A Cup of Tea with Me

Autumn Fever

2010-11-02T13:46:00.003Z

I'm just back from a nature walk with Jack's class -- three mums, two teachers and 28 kids walking the wooded trails behind the school.

The kids were collecting things to make autumn collages, so their eyes were mostly on the ground, but about halfway through, Jack looked around and said, "I've been here before! But... now everything's changed!"

Sure enough, it was the same place we'd picked blackberries with Sarah and Stirling this summer. Now, though, the brambles are empty, and the trees are afire with amber and gold. The wind was blowing, and hundreds of leaves said good-bye to their branches, flying free and then floating gently down to join the thousands already on the ground.

Glorious!

The Princess Doth Persist

2010-10-09T18:48:00.008Z

With a little prompting, Sophie can now recite the days of the week in order. But she's still coming to grips with the broader concept of time and often uses terminology like yesterday-before-yesterday and tomorrow-after-tomorrow.

Which helps explain her recent flash of insight while playing with her brother:

Prince! Prince! Yesterday you said that you would marry me tomorrow. Well, today IS tomorrow!

* * * * * * *

This next exchange is all the sweeter if you imagine her speaking in her (normal) English accent.

Sophie: Storm Trooper, would you like a biscuit?

Jack: (silence)

Sophie: Storm Trooper... Storm Trooper! Would you like a biscuit?

Jack: (sigh) No.

Sophie: Popcorn then? It's vewy good for your tummy...

Summertime In Review (Complete with Photos)

2010-10-03T18:47:00.019Z

Since we moved house at the end of May, we spent most of the summer months just getting settled. For a homebody like me, the process involves so much more than just placing furniture and hanging pictures. It means getting familiar with our surroundings and doing ordinary things over and over again until they become routine. It means waking up each day in this different place with a different arrangement of rooms including a different kitchen with a stove/oven that works differently and doing something normal like making French toast or popcorn or chocolate chip cookies.

It also means getting to know the neighborhood and meeting the neighbors. In this post I wrote about meeting two elderly ladies, and I mentioned going blackberry picking with them. That is something else I did a lot of this summer: picking blackberries.

A couple years ago, back when we lived in Greater London, I wrote about blackberries here, but now that we live outside the City, it seemed like we came across a new patch of blackberry brambles every time we went out. It was practically ridiculous. They were everywhere! And I couldn't just walk right on past them, could I? They were way too luscious, way too tempting. Halfway through August, I even started carrying plastic containers in my purse "just in case," and I ended up bringing so many buckets of berries home that Matt started to call me a blackberry thief!

(I felt much better when an English friend kindly offered this correction: "Actually, we call it foraging," she said. Sounds so much more civilized than thieving, doesn't it?)

Anyway, here's a picture of sweet Sophie on one of our berry-picking outings. Notice she is trying to steal the berries from my bucket and put them into hers so she can eat them on the spot! Notice the telltale berry stains on her fingertips and around her mouth. Like mother, like daughter!

And here are a batch of berries ready to be washed and turned into jam. Yes, I spent much of my summer vacation making jam! (And not a little bit of my summer vacation eating jam. Ahem.)

Here I am, scraping the last bit of jam into a jar. (Missing: The picture Jack took of me frantically stirring jam on the stove while talking to my Mom on the phone and saying, "I've got to go, the jam needs to be poured out." Notice how calm I am at this point in the process. A couple minutes earlier -- not so much.)

And here's Jack, proudly holding up our first attempt at jam tarts. Mmm, they were yummy. (Happy 17th Birthday, Sarah! So glad you could be here so we could help you celebrate!)

In the background of this picture, you'll see some jars of jam. Of course, you might not notice them right off, being distracted by the monstrous, 19-inch zucchini on the counter! Not to mention those beautiful raspberries.

The couple who live across the street (also older, but only in their 60s I'd say) have an allotment, a patch of land outside town where they plant fruit and veg for their own use. The woman was so excited to share some of their produce with us -- they harvested much more than they could eat themselves -- and we were equally excited to receive it. In fact, I think my kids ate fresh broad beans every day for three weeks! But that's a topic for another post.

Anyway, the only thing I could think of doing with that humongous zucchini (UK translation: courgette) was to make zucchini bread. So I got out the food processor, shredded the entire zucchini (minus the stem and bottom ends) and turned to a favorite recipe in a favorite cookbook.

Here are the first three of nine loaves of zucchini bread that I made from that crazy thing. Nine loaves! And that only used half of the shredded zucchini. The rest went into spaghetti sauce and soups.

Some of the jam and most of the zucchini bread was shared with various neighbors and friends. (The older folks were especially surprised that a vegetable like courgette could be made into cake!)

Summer is over now. The days are distinctly shorter, wetter and colder. I'm happy to say that we're feeling nicely settled in our house as well as our neighborhood. And it feels like home.

Crying In My Kitchen

2010-09-28T20:27:00.008Z

A friend came by today, a colleague of Matt's who recently moved here from a country in Central Asia. We've known of each other for several years, interacting briefly here and there, but haven't had the chance to spend much time together until now. And she is now what I was at one time -- nearly 30, a single American woman living overseas.

As we talked, I found myself sharing about my former life, about Kenya, about Rift Valley Academy, about the work I did and the kids I loved.

And she said that she had gone to college with a guy who went to RVA. Did I know him? Are you kidding? I helped sponsor his class!

(Right then, I realized: Oh my goodness, my kids are getting ready to turn 30!)

Then she said one of his friends from RVA used to come and visit campus, and whenever this girl came, she stayed with her. Did I know her? Are you kidding? She was one of my 35 original 6th graders! I have a picture of her (and eight beautiful friends from that class) sitting on my desk right now.

And then I began to cry.

I could hardly get the words out: Thank you for befriending him, for hosting her, for being there. These past 11 years I've missed those kids so much and wished I could have been there for them more than the occasional email, phone call or prayer. Thank you for being there for them when I couldn't be.

I'm absolute rubbish at multi-tasking. I can pretty much only focus on one thing at a time. Right now it's Jack and Sophie -- and Matt, of course -- and I wouldn't trade them for the world. For a long time, though, that other life was my focus. I wouldn't trade that, either. I'm so thankful that I had those years. My heart is so much richer and fuller because of the time I shared with those kids.

And today in the middle of my life -- this all-consuming life -- in the middle of my kitchen, my heart overflowed.

All War is Fratricide

2010-09-26T13:06:00.001Z

There's a blog post I've been wanting to write for a while now, something along the lines of How I Spent My Summer Vacation. I pictured myself sitting down to write it at the beginning of September, before the kids went back to school. Then I pictured myself sitting down to write it after I dropped them off on the first day. Alas, here we are getting ready to start Week 4 of the school year, the weather has turned wet and cold, the leaves are beginning to fall and I'm afraid that by the time I finally get around to it, summer will be a distant memory. Forgive me. My organizational skills, especially where time is concerned, aren't what they used to be.

I keep thinking something's going to change, but in the daily-ness of Life With Small Children, my brain feels scattered, scrambled. My mind races, and my heart feels overwhelmed much of the time. Someone told me the other day that I always appear to be calm and peaceful, which is really ironic because first thing every morning I wake up in utter panic, wondering, "What day is it? What needs to be done today?" and from that point on, I find myself doing whatever it is that needs doing, for however long it takes to do it, in hopes of finding a few minutes to spare so I can sit quietly with a cup of tea before rushing off to do the next thing.

Ahhh, and that's what I'm doing now, sitting with not just a cup but an entire pot of tea -- pineapple oolong, to be precise. (From Singapore! a thoughtful gift from a thoughtful friend.) And although the Summer Vacation post will have to wait, I'm going to share something else I've been wanting to post ever since I read it this summer.

(Because in those snatches of quiet, with a cup of tea, reading a book is the perfect escape.)

I came across Birds Without Wings by Louis de Bernieres in our local secondhand bookshop. Set in the southern part of what is now Turkey, in a time when Christians and Muslims coexisted peacefully, the storyline sounded like something that I could really immerse myself in (one snatch at a time).

But then I found and decided to read first the author's more famous novel, Captain Correlli's Mandolin. Wait, don't dismiss the book if you've only ever seen the movie! The book is entirely different – with rich, full characters and an amazing, amazing, amazing story, expertly and eloquently told. Through much of it I laughed out loud! And by the end I was sobbing. If you've seen the movie but haven't read the book, consider this: The book is like a perfect chocolate cheesecake, appealing to all your senses, a true work of art. The movie is like a chocolate covered digestive biscuit, nice to dunk in a cup of tea but nothing special. In other words, read the book! It's poetry, drama and a bit of history in novel form. And as I said, it's amazing. (For actual book reviews by people who know how to write them, click the links above.)

This post is not about that book, though. Because then I read Birds Without Wings.

It's an exquisitely beautiful, excruciatingly tragic historical narrative of the collapse of the Ottoman Empire in which de Bernieres fairly portrays the various people groups involved -- Greeks, Turks, Armenians, Kurds and soldiers from the various Allied nations -- while acknowledging the atrocities committed by them and to them. (Truly, war is hell.) Nothing I can write can do justice to the beauty and pain of this book.

I won't lie to you, it's a hard story to read. At least it was for me. Aside from the fact that these horrors happened in the past, the modern parallels are too obvious -- the prejudice, the fear and resulting terror that comes from pitting one group of people against another. It's a difficult, devastating reality. Especially in this current slice of history.

I write this as an American who is deeply ashamed of the rising hostility toward Muslims in our country.

I write this as a mom who wants her children to know the joy of embracing people of other cultures and faiths, the way people of other cultures and faiths have embraced me.

I write this as a Christian who believes that if Christians actually lived what Jesus taught -- about loving our neighbors and forgiving those who sin against us -- then we might actually have a chance of breaking the vicious cycle of hatred and revenge.

Here's the paragraph I've been wanting to share:

Where does it all begin? History has no beginnings, for everything that happens becomes the cause or pretext for what occurs afterwards, and this chain of cause and pretext stretches back to the palaeolithic age, when the first Cain of one tribe murdered the first Abel of another. All war is fratricide, and there is therefore an infinite chain of blame that winds its circuitous route back and forth across the path and under the feet of every people and every nation, so that a people who are the victims of one time become the victimisers a generation later, and newly liberated nations resort immediately to the means of their former oppressors. The triple contagions of nationalism, utopianism and religious absolutism effervesce together into an acid that corrodes the moral metal of a race, and it shamelessly and even proudly performs deeds that it would deem vile if they were done by any other.

Where will it all end?

Christmas will be here in a few months, and at some point in the holiday we'll all hear that song, and maybe some of us will even sing it: Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me.

Please, please, please: Let's not wait for Christmas.

We're All Foreigners Here

2010-08-17T05:38:00.004Z

It's that most delicious time of year in England: blackberry season! The kids and I have been foraging up and down the myriad pathways of our town, enjoying the break from school and the simple joy of picking and eating blackberries as we walk along.

Ripe berries seem to be waiting for us everywhere we go, and since the weather has cooled off I’m back to wearing jeans so as not to be intimidated by the stinging nettles and thorns. This past week we’ve picked and picked and picked. On Thursday we made three dishes of bramley apple/blackberry crumble. One for us, one for the elderly couple who live two doors down and one for another elderly neighbor whose dog Rosie loves to play with Jack and Sophie. On Friday, in between spells of rain, we went delivering pudding!

Rosie's owner invited us in to meet a friend who had come for lunch. Both of these ladies are 80 years old if they're a day, and both of them just bubble over with laughter and energy. Before I knew it we were making plans to go blackberry picking together on Sunday afternoon!

There’s a path just outside town, the old coach road, where the blackberries are plentiful and the pathway peaceful -- definitely worth the mile walk, they said. Should we drive? I asked, thinking they might appreciate a lift.

"Oh it's close by," they said, "and the walk is good for the children." So it was settled. (And when Sunday afternoon came, we had so much fun! At this rate, my fingernails may be stained black permanently).

As we chatted, my accent gave me away, and I admitted that I grew up in the States. These ladies practically clapped their hands with glee. "I'm from Germany!" said one. "I'm Italian!" said the other.

"How lovely," the German lady laughed. "We're all foreigners here!"

Lovely indeed. Lately I've been reminded how much I enjoy living among people from other places, how fascinated I am by cultures that are different from my own, how delighted I am by women whose background is not what mine has been. I’ve been reminded how similar we are in spite of all those differences. I’ve been reminded all over again how very much these friendships make me feel right at home. This is definitely my very most favorite thing about the path my life has taken.

We’re all foreigners here.

I’ve been thinking about that from another angle, too -- while reading about the ten aid workers killed last week in Afghanistan, while watching the news about the horrific floods in Pakistan, while praying for the ongoing situation in Haiti. Life is short, fragile, precious. It can be frustrating and even painful at times, but it can also be over in a moment. This world is not my home, I’m just a-passin’ through. Remember that old gospel hymn?

We’re all foreigners here. Sojourners traveling together. And all those differences between us aren't meant to divide us but to make the journey more interesting.

Signs of Hope

2010-04-14T08:16:00.008Z

Well friends, it has been a long winter. I haven't been on the computer much. Taking a step back from the virtual world has felt good. I even fasted from facebook for Lent, which wasn't so much a sacrifice but was good to do without anyway. Unfortunately, less time on the computer has meant that I haven't posted here in three months. Three months!

Three months ago Haiti was devastated by an earthquake. Somewhere in my deepest self, this event caught hold of me and has yet to let me go. So when I have gone online, I've consistently checked in with my friend Ruth and with her friends Troy and Tara, among others. I'm so far removed from all they're describing, but through the power of prayer I feel like I'm right there with them in the Spirit. So when I read the following story, I cried tears -- but instead of tears of heartache and despair they were tears of joy and of hope.

This was initially posted by Barbie B on her blog, Haiti Is Such a Strong Word, and reposted by Troy:

Go online and search out Destiny's Child "I'm a Survivor". Hook up your speakers, turn the volume on high, with a whole lot of bass, and with apologies to your next door neighbors, rock the house. Then close your eyes and listen to the chorus. And imagine what we saw today...

We were discouraged. We'd lost our physical therapist to a family emergency, and our patients appeared unmotivated without his constant encouraging presence. Moods were low. Apathy was setting in. Oppressive heat overwhelmed our tarp covered courtyard hospital. Little six year old Dina, now in a walking cast from her open tib-fib fracture, refused to put down her crutches and bear weight on it. Afraid. Lillian, 10 year old with an externally fixated femur fracture...crying with each episode of physical therapy, more and more fearful of the pain. 59 year old Leeann, lying stoically in bed 23 hours a day, not exercising her healing leg -- going backwards in progress. Our 76 year old below-the-knee amputee Genine, needing to learn how to walk again, having a difficult time even standing up. 20 year old Amanda, with her paralyzed left arm and shattered left leg, lying sadly and disinterested in her cot, staring blankly off into the distance.

We'd hit a wall.

"We just need to get them MOVING..." one nurse said.

"Maybe we could get them to do physical therapy together..." someone else said.

"It needs to be fun," someone else said.

And so the idea spiraled. It was born from the knowledge of a perhaps little-known fact, outside of our hospital, that our Haitian patients have innate and amazing rhythm. And soul. Every night, they sing and clap and stomp together in song in impromptu mass that goes on sometimes for hours. Rocking the house. Rocking the neighborhood, over the cinderblock walls, beyond the plastic tarp that is our roof.

It was evidenced when we watched the film "Madagascar," projected one night on a white cotton sheet tied up to the cinderblock wall. In this Disney film, dubbed in French, shipwrecked zoo animals land in the wilds of Madagascar with a bunch of lemmings who break out into fabulous song, singing a hip deep bass beat, "You got to move it, move it. You got to move it, move it. You got to move it, move it...MOVE IT!!" There was nothing cooler than to watch heads start to bob and hands start to sway to the rhythm as all of the patients started to sing along to the beat.

It became obvious that our patients have rhythm.

"Let's make them exercise to Move it!" recommended someone else. We all laughed.

Then someone said, "No, really!"

No.

Really.

So, somehow it happened that we pulled out the electric sound system used to project movies on the wall at night. And plugged it into Dr. Jen's computer. A quick search of her iTunes files revealed a great assortment of deep beat, hip, rhythmic dance tunes. Including the song, "You all ready for this???!!" -- normally danced to at NFL halftime shows by cheerleaders in skimpy tops and pompoms.

We walked around to each patient and said, "In a minute, we're going to turn on the music, and you will do your PT."

Some patients were assigned a helper. Amputees were given the task -- stand and balance on your strong leg, and try to squat up and down. Bilateral casted patients -- stand up with your walker and balance, then sit back down. Young Dina, who refuses to walk without her crutches...when the music starts, you will walk on your cast...with one crutch, not two. Young Lilian, who starts to cry at the idea of physical therapy -- you will stand with your crutches and just walk around. Each patient assigned a task. They all looked at us curiously, a little dubiously. A little apathetically. A generalized look that shouted...ok, perhaps whispered, disinterestedly, "Ok, whatever..."

But then, the magic happened.

This was no circus music. No accordion music. No elevator music. No polka or grandma's parlor music. This was raging urban hip hop rhythm with wicked bass and deep musical soul. Yes, this music required apologies to the neighbors over the cinderblock walls for its volume. Yes, it perhaps shook a bit of dust off the walls. Yes, it was played like your car stereo when you drive solo, speeding down the highway with the volume and bass cranked, wind screaming through your hair. Because on the count of three, when Renauld our interpretor-turned-DJ hit "PLAY", at two in the boring afternoon at our Haitian Field Hospital, he literally rocked the house.

"YOU ALL READY FOR THIS????" the song called, followed by the deep rhythmic beat of sound. Sound which suddenly dragged patients' eyes open, pulled giant smiles from their lips. Heads began to bob. Feet began to tap. Eyes came afire with life as the sound system blared its rhythm across the courtyard. I helped our 76 year old amputee onto her one leg. Her shoulders started to sway in rhythm. A smile crinkled her aged, wrinkled cheeks. Ten-year-old Lillian, afraid to stand, threw down her crutches and danced with her hips swaying and arms undulating rhythmically, balancing crutchless for the first time. Dina marched to the beat on her casted foot, then began to spin and dance. Amanda lay in her cot, brilliant smile, rhythmically rolling her shoulder to the beat. Song after song, shining smile after smile. Little Emmanuel, three year old boy with the crushed face, stood in the center of the courtyard and danced the free-spirited dance of a child. Smiles and rhythm of joy. Old and young. Nurses and patients and translators and visitors. Rocked the house.

Then the last song, "I'm a Survivor," by Destiny's Child, began to play. I paused as I stood in the middle of the courtyard, slowly turning around to see the patients dancing and swaying and squatting and bending and smiling and laughing -- incidental physical therapy amidst the endorphin releasing joy of blaring song. Dancing like they were 16 again... perfect... whole... young.. .strong... in their bedroom secretly in front of their mirror. In a club. At a rock concert. A better day. A freer, more innocent day. Rebelliously blaring the music.... When life was simple and beautiful.

The deep, strong African American female voice pounded forcefully from the speaker in front of me. With each lyric, my eyes glanced off of each patient...their stories of survival...of pain...of endurance...of recovery...of spiritual resilience... flashed repeatedly in my mind. Fabulous. Amazing. Unbelievable.

I'm a survivor...
I'm not gonna give up...
I'm not gonna stop...
I'm gonna work harder...
I'm a survivor...
I'm gonna make it..
I will survive...
Keep on survivin'....
I'm a survivor...
I'm not gonna give up...
I'm not gonna stop...
I'm gonna work harder...
I'm a survivor...
I'm gonna make it...
I will survive....
Keep on survivin'...
Keep on survivin'.

If you liked reading about the Heartline patients, check out the video! Those smiles, along with the dancing, are precious signs of hope.

Help for Haiti

2010-01-16T21:20:00.006Z

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

2010-01-16T07:53:00.007Z

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

2009-12-22T17:42:00.007Z

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

2009-11-28T09:24:00.002Z

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

2009-11-09T16:39:00.009Z

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

2009-10-30T08:47:00.009Z

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

2009-10-20T13:36:00.000Z

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

2009-09-09T12:53:00.016Z

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

2009-07-31T13:45:00.009+01:00

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

2009-07-24T15:48:00.006+01:00

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

2009-07-23T13:41:00.018+01:00

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

2009-07-22T09:46:00.000+01:00

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

2009-07-11T21:01:00.012+01:00

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

2009-07-08T13:30:00.007+01:00

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

2009-06-19T13:58:00.003+01:00

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!

Catching Up

2009-05-13T13:35:00.010Z

You would think, with as many times as I’ve done it, that I’d have this process down to a science, that I’d be able to make a move and hit the ground running, not missing a beat, all the while keeping my ducks in a row. Aside from the cheesy clichés and in spite of moving more times than I care to count, for some reason I tend to harbor ridiculous expectations for myself. Sure, I remember how much time it takes to pack up and prepare to leave a place, but somehow I forget how much time it takes to get everything set back up again. I seriously thought I’d be back to blogging within a week of moving. Silly me! Even in a place like England, readjusting takes time. Time to settle into a new home, meet new people, get used to new routines and figure out where things are, like the grocery store and my sense of normalcy. So please forgive my silence over the past few weeks. Life has been rather full.

* * * * * * *

When we lived in Cyprus, Matt and I used to watch Escape to the Country, a British lifestyle tv show that takes someone tired of living in the city and helps them find their dream home in the countryside. Where we live now is only ten minutes outside the M25, and our house is just metres from an A-road. You can’t see the traffic, but you can definitely hear it whooshing past. Still, living here feels very Escape to the Country-ish to me. For one thing, this is the first time I’ve been able to hang my wind chimes without worrying about disturbing the neighbors. Also, they have such a relaxing sound, these wind chimes, and they’re great at disguising the background traffic noise. Especially in combination with all the grass, flowers and trees of the surrounding area, it’s easy for me to imagine the whoosh-whooshing of cars is actually the sound of a waterfall or ocean waves.

We’ve had truly glorious weather the last month or so. I love that spring in England is an entire season! Its long, slow kiss of radiant color and permeating green is intoxicating. As we’ve started to get out and explore this new place on the weekends, we’ve spent a lot of time saying things like, “Wow, look at this!” and “Oh my goodness, did you see that?” (Or in Sophie-speak: “Oh my gway-shus!”) Sometimes we only get as far as saying, “Oh… my…” before our mouths freeze open in awe at the view around us. I miss a lot of things about city living, most of all our lovely friends there, but I have to say, the natural beauty of this part of the country is pretty spectacular.

* * * * * * *

Everywhere I’ve ever lived, I’ve been blessed with the most wonderful friends. Still, every time I move to a new place I’m amazed by the kindness of the people who reach out to befriend me. The day we moved in here, one of our neighbors invited us to her house that very evening, and she invited one of the other neighbors as well, just to introduce us to one another. Last week was only Jack’s second week at school, but Tuesday morning I was invited for tea at the home of one of his classmates. I didn’t know the mum well enough to hug her, but I really wanted to! Would you believe it, this morning another woman invited a few school mums over so that I can start to get to know them. I’m really touched by this. I want to buy them all flowers, bake them all cookies, tell them they are each a living, breathing answer to prayer.

* * * * * * *

Jack’s new school is in a nearby village, and he really loves it! I’m so relieved. He hated to leave his other school, his friends, his most beloved teacher. So it has been a comfort to watch him embrace his new situation. Mind you, his new school is so small that when a student comes in the middle of the year, everybody knows about it ahead of time and is crazy with anticipation. His first visited on a Friday afternoon, before starting the following Monday. Walking with him across the playground felt like having a little celebrity by the hand. We heard kids calling to one another: “There’s Jack Jones!” and “It’s Jack Jones! He’s here, he’s here!” and “Jack Jones is in my class, not yours!” His teacher said she’d never seen a child so eagerly awaited. So really, who wouldn’t love that?

Kids here wear uniforms to school, which I really like. Not only does it make getting ready in the mornings a lot easier, it cuts down on laundry (and we already do a gracious plenty of that) and it gives all the kids at each school a sense of belonging together. So that first Friday afternoon we bought Jack’s new school jumper (American = sweatshirt) and tie. His other school didn’t have a tie, just their jumper over a white polo shirt and grey trousers. When I showed him the tie, Jack looked a bit worried and said, “But Mommy, I don’t know how to tie this.” I told him not to worry, that Matt would teach him the proper way to tie a tie. What I meant was, Matt could tie it for him each morning before school, and eventually, at some point, he’d learn how to do it for himself.

That is not what Jack heard. The next day, Jack brought his tie to Matt and asked to be shown how to tie it. Matt went through it a couple of times, and then Jack disappeared up to his room. About 15 minutes later, he came back thoroughly discouraged because he couldn’t get it! We tried to tell him not to worry, plenty of grown men have trouble with tying ties. They’re tricky. After all, no one expects a six year-old to tie his own tie every day.

But Jack is nothing if not determined, once he gets an idea in his head. After another demo he went back up to his room to work on it again until he got it right, and he’s been tying his own tie every school morning since. Now he really looks, as well as sounds, like the stereotypical British schoolboy.

* * * * * * *

Our little girl is growing up, too, with plans to take over the running of things, starting with our family. Last week Sophie informed me that she was the Mom now, and she would be doing the driving from now on.

“Oh,” I said, “so who am I, then?”

She looked at me as if the answer was so obvious, I should have known. “You’re the sister,” she told me. Luckily, when she’s not being the Mom, Sophie’s just as happy to be Tinkerbell. She insists on wearing her fairy dress-up clothes whether we’re at home, picking up Jack from school or going grocery shopping. Skipping and flouncing her way through these days, Sophie’s definitely in her own world.

* * * * * * *

I have to say, I do miss walking Jack to school. We spend a lot more time in the car here. In order to make the most of our daily commute, I’ve decided to teach the kids a new hymn each week. Given the incredible beauty all around us, even on the roads, we started with this oldie but goodie:

This is my Father’s world
And to my listening ears
All nature sings and round me rings
The music of the spheres
This is my Father’s world
I rest me in the thought
Of rocks and trees, of skies and seas
His hand the wonders wrought

This is my Father’s world
The birds their carols raise
The morning light, the lily white
Declare their Maker’s praise
This is my Father’s world
He shines in all that’s fair
In the rustling grass, I hear Him pass
He speaks to me everywhere

This is my Father’s world
Why should my heart feel sad?
For though the wrong seems oft so strong
God is the ruler yet
This is my Father’s world
The battle is not done
Jesus who died shall be satisfied
And earth and heaven be one

Couldn't Have Said It Better Myself

2009-04-14T19:57:00.008Z

Today the kids and I were in the car, on our way to meet some of Jack's school friends for a picnic at a playground about 15 miles away. We were ooh-ing and aah-ing over the gorgeous trees in bloom -- white, pink and even brilliant magenta blossoms beckoned us along the road -- and congratulating God on the incredible beauty all around us. (As in, Great job on that tree, Jesus! That was amazing!) Suddenly Sophie burst out clapping and said, "Hoo-way! Hoo-way! Hoo-way for 'pingtime!"

Lost in Transition

2009-04-12T13:54:00.002Z

It's Easter, my favorite holiday! Mind you, it's hard to beat Christmas, but as I see it the only thing better than celebrating Jesus' birth is celebrating all that God accomplished in His death and resurrection. And the only thing better than reading or telling the old, old story is reading or telling it again. There's always something fresh to learn, something new to discover among precious reminders along the familiar path. Just because I've walked this way before doesn't mean I know all there is to know. Sure, I know what I know, but one of the wonderful things about God is there's always more to discover. Not a single one of us has Him all figured out. And so I press on, reading and rereading; telling and retelling; pondering and pondering some more.

I've been pondering a lot lately, in general, because we're walking along another familiar path at the moment, one that involves a lot of mental and emotional energy for me: We're moving. A week from tomorrow.

It's not another international move, and for that I'm immensely relieved and thankful. But a move is a move. We're leaving greater London for a town that's definitely English instead of multi-cultural. I'll be walking less and driving more. The neighbors are fewer, the high street a bit further away. I've driven down there a couple of times and I like it, I really do. In time I'm confident that I'll come to love it. It's just... different from where we are now.

In pondering the move and my response to it, I've come to a realization: My pattern in past moves has been one of emotional resistance, trying to recreate in the new place what I loved about the old place. In my struggle to come to emotional grips with the process of leaving, I've often done a fair bit (and sometimes an unfairly large bit) of wallowing in my sense of loss, missing What Was. This time I'm going to try very hard not to do that. I'm going to try to let the new place be what it is and enjoy it for its uniqueness, enjoy this next season of our lives for what it will be.

We plan to come back here on Sundays, to continue going to our wonderful church and staying in touch with our wonderful friends. So I have the luxury of knowing we'll be back, and soon. That has helped me relax. Well, as much as is possible when the house is in an upheaval. It's all a matter of perspective!

Anyway, this transition is one of the reasons I haven't posted on this blog in a while. I've been a little distracted. Hopefully I'll get back to more regular posting after the move. Stay tuned!

Breakfast Theology

2009-03-29T08:22:00.004Z

In preparation for Easter, we're reading from the children's Bible at breakfast -- a couple stories at a time in hopes of arriving at the Resurrection story on Easter morning. This morning we read about Jesus' first miracle (water to wine! at a celebration of love and happiness! listening to your mother!) and then about Jesus' teaching on prayer.

I only got through the first line -- Jesus went up to a mountainside to pray -- before I interrupted myself to say, "When you're old enough to go out into nature by yourself, you're going to love it! There's nothing like being outside to pray."

Then it was Jack's turn: "And pee-pee."

Ooops. In my head I was scrambling, "Hm. Wasn't expecting this. Not sure how to respond. Daddy usually handles such boy issues, but he's away this week..." when Jack explained, "Do you know why it's so great? Because there's no one around."

Whew! That was my cue. "And that's exactly why it's perfect for praying, because you're all alone with God," I said.

Somehow we managed to finish reading the story about the Lord's Prayer, and I thought it would be good for us to say the prayer together. Jack repeated each line after me. The language is a bit tricky, but he got most of it. I liked his first line the best: Our Father in heart and heaven...

Unplugged

2009-03-04T22:35:00.005Z

It has been so long since I've posted on this blog that I keep telling myself I better come up with something good to make up for it. Trouble is, I haven't made the time to sit down at the computer and compose anything, good or otherwise.

I've been on a sort of technological reprieve. I've pulled back from blogging, facebooking and computer-time in general. I haven't gone so far as to join the moleskine rebellion, although I have determined to get back to proper journaling, in a notebook, with a pen. There's something very therapeutic about that. Does it have something to do with the fact that no one else will see it? Maybe. And maybe it has to do with the slower pace as well. My little world, slow and simple to many, has been spinning too fast for my comfort, and I've decided to get off and rest a while.

I'm not sure how long I'll be on hiatus, but tonight I read this article about the joys of bargain shopping and couldn't resist sharing it. Finally, finally, at long last, my style is in style!

With the economy in shambles and so many people losing their jobs and homes, it is no longer considered cool to brag about possessions and purchases.
For many during a deepening recession, conspicuous consumption is out and frugality is the new black.
"People have long used the way they shop and what they buy as a way to communicate with other people about their values, their tastes and their interests," said Kit Yarrow, a consumer psychologist and professor at Golden Gate University in San Francisco, California.
"A year ago, what was considered the ultimate status symbol would have been the chicest bag or the most luxurious outfit," Yarrow added. "Now what's chic is being the most knowledgeable and efficient at saving money."

My mom and I are bargain hunters from way back. We've hit the proverbial jackpot so many times at the Goodwill Store in the town where I grew up that now we just call it Our Favorite Store. As in: I love your blouse/jeans/jacket/you name it. Oh thanks. I got it at Our Favorite Store. The last time I was in the US, I bought four tops for $35 at a Goodwill boutique. Three of the tops still had the tags attached, one of which was silk, from Talbots, and had originially been priced at $89. Now that feels good, baby!

Here in England it's all I can do to walk past a charity shop without going inside, and whenever Matt and I visit a new town, their charity shops call to me, siren-like. It's the lure, I guess, of what treasures might be waiting there to be discovered.

Right now the treasure I'm enjoying is some quiet time focused on our family and local friends. I may post bits and pieces from time to time, but it may be a while between posts. Don't worry, I'm still here. I've just gone back-to-basics.

It Looks Like Narnia Here!

2009-02-03T21:31:00.008Z

I haven't made time for blogging lately and hope to remedy that soon. In the meantime, enjoy these pics from our wintry world:

Speechless

2009-01-11T08:26:00.007Z

Not for the first time, I've run out of words. I simply don't know what to say. What's going on in Gaza is heartbreaking on both sides.

I don't have answers to the age-old dilemma in the Middle East. It's messy, complicated. But even I can tell that the Eye For An Eye approach isn't working. Perhaps what we all need is A New Playbook in Responding to the Gaza Conflict. Perhaps we need to start with the obvious: Nonviolence Begets Nonviolence. Certainly we need to ask ouselves: Where Are the Peacemakers? And: How can we contribute to peace ourselves, in our thoughts, words and actions, right where we are?

For these and other articles with a God-honoring, people-loving approach to politics and culture, I urge you to go to the Sojourner's blog, God's Politics.

I don't know about you, but especially when words fail me, I return to the simple yet powerful prayer Jesus taught His disciples:

Our Father in heaven,
May your name be kept holy.
May your Kingdom come soon.
May your will be done on earth, as it is in heaven.
Give us today our food for tomorrow,
and forgive us our sins, as we have forgiven those who sin against us.
And don’t let us yield to temptation, but rescue us from evil.
For yours is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever. Amen.
(Matthew 6:9-13 NLT)

Behind the Scenes

2009-01-07T09:05:00.009Z

Finally, finally I've sent our holiday newsletter. Here's the photo that went with it:

And here are the outtakes...

What She Said

2008-12-28T20:51:00.003Z

Tonight I'm going to bed early. (Hooray!) But first I want to share with you three bits of the blogosphere that really made my Christmas this year, in that reading them made my heart/mind/soul go "Aha!" and "Aaahhhh..." at the same time.

Two are from an insightful woman young enough to be in the graduating class of 1999 at Rift Valley Academy but with wisdom beyond her years and an eloquence I envy. She's also a tough little cookie, living and serving as she does among prostitutes in South America. Anyway, first is her post of Dec 16 about Zechariah and the cost of being the parent of a child who does crazy things for God. And then her post of Dec 22 about how old, familiar Christmas carols take on a raw, relevant energy in the context of Life Outside The Comfort Zone.

And lastly, the Dec 24 post from the blog of another amazingly insightful woman is really a link to the text of a Christmas Eve homily about angels and their message of hope in response to our tendency to fear. She didn't write these words, but I'm sending you to her blog first because that's how I arrived here and because her blog is fabulous in its own right, as is she.

Thank you, ladies. Your words have brought me great comfort and joy this Christmas.

You Can Take The Woman Out Of Africa, But You Can Never Take Africa Out Of Her Heart

2008-12-27T22:42:00.014Z

I can't help but mention that today is the one-year anniversary of the presidential election after which all Hell broke loose in Kenya.

Africa is never far from my thoughts and prayers, but especially on a day like today, the title of this fascinating article on the Times Online site grabbed my attention. It's one thing to hear a testimonial like this from a Christian. But coming from a self-proclaimed unbeliever, it packs a powerful punch: As an atheist, I truly believe Africa needs God by Matthew Parris

... Now just how to reconcile the deplorable events of last year with the statistics that 78% of Kenyans identify themselves as Christians? Or how about Rwanda in 1994, considered one of the most "Christian" countries in the world (80-90%)? As both a believer in Jesus and a lover of Africa, I am troubled by these blatant inconsistencies.

Then again, if I'm honest about my own "Christian" culture, I can find plenty of troubling things-that-should-never-have-been-said-or-done, right up to the present day, many of them in the name of Christ. Oh Lord, save us from ourselves!

(P.S. Like many of my favorite people, Mr. Parris is a TCK -- a third culture kid. Methinks this has a lot to do with his gutsy, balanced analysis. To read more about TCKs and their unique view of the world, check out this blog site.)

Why I Especially Love Christmas

2008-12-23T19:56:00.006Z

From the squalor of a borrowed stable,
by the spirit and a virgin's faith;
to the anguish and the shame of scandal
came the Saviour of the human race.
But the skies were filled with the praise of heav'n,
shepherds listen as the angels tell
of the Gift of God come down to man
at the dawning of Immanuel!

King of heaven now the Friend of sinners,
humble servant in the Father's hands,
filled with power and the Holy Spirit,
filled with mercy for the broken man
Yes, He walked my road and He felt my pain,
joys and sorrows that I know so well;
Yet His righteous steps give me hope again -
I will follow my Immanuel!

Through the kisses of a friend's betrayal,
He was lifted on a cruel cross;
He was punished for the world's transgressions,
He was suffering to save the lost
He fights for breath, He fights for me
loosing sinners from the claims of hell;
and with a shout our souls are free -
Death defeated by Immanuel!

Now He's standing in the place of honour,
crowned with glory on the highest throne,
interceding for His own beloved
till His Father calls to bring them home!
Then the skies will part as the trumpet sounds
hope of heaven or the fear of hell;
but the Bride will run to her Lover's arms,
giving glory to Immanuel!

(words and music by Stuart Townend, 1999)

Let Them Eat Caviar

2008-12-22T07:42:00.003Z

In the current economic meltdown, where the bubble of worldwide greed for more-more-more has burst, leaving most everyone affected in one way or another, a diversion: Italian officials recently recovered nearly 90 lbs. of Beluga caviar (worth $550,000) as it was being smuggled into their country from nearby Poland. What to do with the booty? Well, feed it to the poor people of Milan, obviously.

Brain Games in Church

2008-12-21T20:56:00.013Z

Much as I love living in England, and much as I love our church here, one thing is a real cross-cultural challenge for me: singing old hymns (or in this case, Christmas carols) to a different tune than the (American) one I know. Usually the English version is so stratospherically, highly pitched that, even if I did know the tune, I'd never be able to actually sing it.

Sometimes there are even different words, as in this morning's version of Oh Come All Ye Faithful. Of the six verses, I recognized only the first one. It put quite a damper on my normal, con gusto approach to singing in church, let me just say.

But the biggest brain teaser of all was singing Angels From the Realms of Glory to the tune of Angels We Have Heard On High. The whole first verse I was completely confused and didn't figure it out until the chorus, when everyone else was singing, "Come and worship, come and worship, worship Christ the newborn King!" and all I could think was "Glo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-oria, in excelsis Deo!" Once I tracked the tune, I did a bit better, but honestly it was sort of like trying to rub my tummy and pat my head at the same time.

Later in the service we sang one of the first Graham Kendrick songs I ever learned. Whenever I hear it, I'm transported right back to those dimly lit Koinonia gatherings at RVA, and in my head I hear Tim B on guitar and see Kristie M doing the overhead transparencies. Back then I was just beginning to grasp what it means to worship God. It's an ever-continuing journey that, for me, started back then with music. (A decade later, at ICF in Cyprus, it further developed with prayer.)

Anyway, in spite of the silly, narrow us vs. them attitude that I began with this morning, singing that song reminded me how much of my heart-worship has been shaped by the theology of modern British songwriters, how very much I owe them. The lyrics and melodies of Kendrick, Matt Redman and Stuart Townend, among others, have hugely impacted my walk with God.

You could say I walked out of the service less prejudiced, more enlightened and definitely more humbled than I went in.

From heaven You came, helpless babe,
Entered our world, Your glory veiled;
Not to be served but to serve,
And give Your life that we might live.

This is our God, the Servant King,
He calls us now to follow Him, to bring our lives
As a daily offering of worship to the Servant King.

There in the garden of tears,
My heavy load He chose to bear;
His heart with sorrow was torn,
'Yet not My will, but Yours,' He said.

Come see His hands and His feet,
The scars that speak of sacrifice;
Hands that flung stars into space
To cruel nails surrendered.

So let us learn how to serve,
And in our lives enthrone Him;
Each other's needs to prefer,
For it is Christ we're serving.
(Graham Kendrick, 1983)

Writer's Block

2008-12-20T16:03:00.012Z

The other day I came across a forgotten folder on my desktop, and within it was the holiday newsletter I meant to send out last year. I had intended it to be a Happy New Year greeting, but then came such scary, scary news out of Kenya on December 27th, and further disturbing news a month later, that I was overcome with a sort of mental, emotional and spiritual paralysis. I sure couldn’t finish the letter, and even if I had, I couldn’t bear to send it. Our family’s news seemed less than trivial. The New Year didn’t start out so Happy after all.

(Thankfully, a friend -- you know who you are, Melissa -- recommended a book called When Life and Beliefs Collide by Carolyn Custis James. It's a journey, of course, but this book has been helping me put some of the pieces back together.)

I’m now trying to write our family’s newsletter for this year. In spite of its ominous beginning, 2008 was a good one. Our kids are getting bigger, funnier and even more fun. Matt and I are growing together, and we love living where we live, doing what we do. It turns out that Kenya -- which collapsed in violent anger, racism and chaos in response to their presidential elections at the end of last year -- reunited, rejoiced and danced in the streets last month in response to ours. Who would’ve guessed that?

This Christmas I’m freshly aware of the truth of Isaiah 55:8, where God says, “My thoughts are nothing like your thoughts… and My ways are far beyond anything you could imagine” (NLT). Right now, in the face of our present reality at this time in history, the Christmas story holds even greater significance for me. The baby born in a stable to a poor, refugee couple turns out to be God’s most potent antidote for all of humanity’s deepest, most desperate needs. It’s an unlikely outcome if ever there was one.

One of my favorite verses in the Christmas narrative is Luke 1:37, when the angel Gabriel tells Mary, “For nothing is impossible with God” (NIV). A year from now I hope to look back on 2009 and see how God once again did the impossible. Especially when it seems unreasonable and unlikely, like Abraham (Romans 4:18) I want to hope-against-hope, believing God for the miracles that only He can do.

Right now, though, it’s still 2008. And I’ve got a newsletter to write.

Said the Small Girl With the iPod In Her Hand

2008-12-13T16:58:00.002Z

"I want listen ChrisChris tree music!"

Celebrating God-With-Us

2008-12-12T21:13:00.008Z

Usually on Tuesday afternoons a friend brings her two daughters to our house after school. The younger girl is in Jack's class, and her older sister takes piano lessons from a woman who lives across the street from us. So we all walk home from school together, the kids have a drink and a snack, the piano student heads off to her lesson, Jack and Sophie play with her sister and my friend and I have some uninterrupted time to drink tea and talk. Something happened last week that they couldn't come, so this Tuesday was the first time they had come so far in the month of December.

Since December 1st, Jack and Sophie have been opening their advent calendars as soon as we get home. We peel off all the outer layers of weather-wear, Jack turns on the lights of the Christmas tree, we sit down in front of it with their advent calendars and read through the verses, starting at Day 1 and reading all the way to whatever the current day is. Each day's window reveals the next bit of the Christmas story as well as a tasty bite of chocolate.

On Tuesday when we came home with our friends, Jack headed straight for the advent calendars and asked if we were still going to open them. Sure, I said, as long as you're prepared to share your chocolate. He was happy to do that (whose kid is this again???), so I sat there with four eager children instead of two, reading through the verses for Days 1-9 and marveling at the beautiful simplicity in which God often chooses to reveal Himself.

My friend and her daughters are devout Muslims. They must be marginally familiar with the Christmas story from what they've read in the Qur'an and what they've been taught in school. But on Tuesday, almost before I realized what was happening, they were wrapped up in the arms of our little advent ceremony and, rather than being frightened by something strange or offensive, held close by the warmth of our friendship.

Later that evening as we gave thanks for our supper, I asked God's blessing on my friend and her family. As we ate, I said to Jack, That was probably the first time your friends have ever opened an advent calendar.

Really? he said. Why?

Because they're not Christians, I said. (After which I explained that Christian means someone who loves and follows Jesus and that Muslim means someone who believes in God but doesn't think Jesus is His Son and that Muhammed's message was God's final word.)

Jack gave me a funny look, and said, Then why are we friends with them?

Oh honey, I said. We're friends with them because we have lots of fun together. They're good, kind, caring people, and they are such amazingly good friends to us. And because we might be their only friends who know Jesus. By being friends with them, we have a chance to show them God's love in a Jesus-way. And maybe one day they'll come to know Jesus, too. (Inshallah.)

I think one of my many favorite things about the Christmas story is that God comes to ordinary people in extraordinary ways. And sometimes in ordinary ways, too. Jesus was born just like we were, I tell Jack. He became one of us, befriended us in order to show us how great is God's love.

May we do the same at Christmas and all through the year.

These Are The Moments I Envy My Homeschooling Friends

2008-12-09T09:42:00.001Z

Me: Jack, time to get dressed for school.

Jack: I don't want to go to school today. I want to stay home with you.

Me: (Trying to think of something special about school this week) Oooh, remember today you're having a Hot Dinner.

Jack: But Mommy, I love you more than Hot Dinners...

(Sweetheart and sweet-talker that he is, I walked him to school anyway.)

Status Updates on the Homefront

2008-12-08T20:16:00.003Z

Recent highs at our house:
* Jack lost his first tooth! Matt is nearly 4,000 miles away and knew he'd miss the big event, but Jack waited to give the final tug until he was on skype with Daddy. Hooray for modern technology!
* Also, Jack learned to tie his shoes! He's becoming a lot more independent these days. (I'm just glad he will still come snuggle on my lap when he wakes up... Not too grown up yet.)
* Sophie has now decided to call herself "Sophie" and me "Laura". How funny! Jack went through a similar phase at this age. He called Matt by his first name for about six months. (We didn't make a big deal out of it, and at some point he stopped. But we thought it was downright hilarious.)

Recent low:
* I woke up this morning without a voice! So strange. I must have misplaced it somewhere. I mean, it was here yesterday... I think I'll give the apple cider vinegar trick another try. It worked like a charm the last time I had a throat-thing. I think I'll also go to bed early tonight and see if I can pre-empt whatever nasty bug is trying to take advantage of the fact that I'm parenting alone this week.

Nighty-night!

Feed a Cold, Treat the Feet?

2008-12-07T20:30:00.003Z

I received a bizarre-sounding email forward this week — about the powerful, soothing effects of rubbing Vicks Vapor Rub on the FEET. It's supposed to calm severe coughs and aid peaceful sleep without any side effects, especially in young children. Has anyone else tried this successfully?

We don’t have any Vicks Vapor Rub in the house at the moment, but I do have a homeopathic oil remedy that smells similar. I usually put it on the kids’ chest/back/neck/behind the ears before bed when they have a cold. Anyway, tonight I rubbed this oil all over their feet and between their toes and then put their socks on. So far, I am not kidding, Sophie has coughed ONCE, about a minute after I put her down. All through last night and all day today they were coughing frequently, so the fact that both she and Jack are sleeping soundly and in absolute silence tonight is remarkable.

In case it is helpful for anyone out there, here is the recipe for the “Synergistic Blend” I swear by. (from The Fragrant Pharmacy -- thank you, Clare and Paula!) To 30 ml almond oil, add 10 drops each: lavender, eucalyptus and tee-tree essential oils.

(Also, if my kiddos are congested, I dot a couple drops of eucalyptus essential oil onto their pillowcases or on the shoulder of their pajamas.)

* * * * * * *
Updated to add: Jack slept soundly all night long, except for the bit where Edward went missing in and among the quilts. Sophie slept peacefully until 4 a.m. when she started coughing again. (This was after nine hours of deep sleep.) I got up and reapplied the oil to her feet. And voila! She stopped coughing immediately, went right back to sleep and didn't make a peep until she was ready to get up at 7 a.m. It may not work for everyone, but I think we'll be using this method again!

Playing Hooky

2008-12-05T10:36:00.008Z

I suppose he could have gone to school today, but with all the sniffling, sneezing and coughing we decided to keep Jack home. He's not exactly Sick but is definitely in need of a day off. Besides, yesterday was the last of four days in a row that his class performed their Christmas program, and I'd be shocked if the teacher planned to do anything substantial in class today. (This is an obvious attempt to ease my guilty conscience. When I was the teacher, I would have frowned most severely on this sort of thing.)

So I'm sitting here listening to Christmas music while Jack and Sophie (also sniffling) are tumbling from one room to another, thoroughly enjoying one another's company. It does my heart good to hear them that way because, of course, it is not always the case! Be kind to one another, I tell them. Your sibling is your Best Friend For Life. Mornings like this one help them feel the truth in Mommy's words.

And I'm sitting here missing Matt, who is on an airplane and will be gone all next week. Yesterday we celebrated our wedding anniversary and even managed dinner! Out! Together! For all the normal ups and downs of married life during the months in between, every year on December 4th, I find myself freshly amazed at how quickly the time has gone by and yet how it feels like we've been together forever. (I think that might be one of the definitions of soulmate?) Anyway, Honey, if you're reading this, I'm so grateful for these first nine years as your wife and would love to have ninety-nine more!

I'm also sitting here thinking of all the things I meant to write about over the past month but somehow never did:
* Crying through the memorial service for a-friend-of-a-friend who was shot dead in Afghanistan on her way to work with disabled children;
* Visiting the largest mosque in Western Europe and being inspired by the devout, industrious women there who passionately work for peace and to help the poor in their local community and abroad;
* Discussing the book of Esther with my Mums' Bible study group and discovering nuances I'd never noticed before, especially in comparing and contrasting Esther and Daniel in their different approaches to living out the same faith in a secular society;
* Celebrating Thanksgiving with our dear English friends and feeling so very much At Home here while desperately missing our families in the States;
* Giving in to the lure of Facebook and reconnecting with friends I'd lost touch with lifetimes ago;
* Going into London by myself earlier this week and reveling in a Day Off from mothering duties, a chance to tour Westminster Abbey and being seated just behind the choir during Evensong;
* Waiting for three hours to see a doctor about Sophie's swollen, purple nose after she dove head-first into the arm of our wooden couch;
* Marveling at the wonder of Jack's first wobbly tooth!

It's not that I haven't wanted to write about these things. I've just had so many emotions to sort through in order to uncover the words and not nearly enough quiet/alone/alert time to process them effectively. So please forgive my absence over the past few weeks. I hope to get back to more regular posting again now.

Proud To Be An American

2008-11-09T19:49:00.011Z

It was a big, big week -- both at home and abroad. First of all, Sophie is now using the toilet! For some reason, this milestone has been super-intimidating for me with each of our kids. Once we actually get into it, though, it goes so smoothly that I end up wondering what I was so worried about. Of course, the key both times has been Matt’s clever incentive program. (For anyone else out there who lives in dread of toilet training, I’ll describe his plan in another post.) Anyway, I’m so excited NOT to be changing poopy diapers on a daily basis anymore! Freedom comes in many forms…

And then, of course, Barack Obama won the American presidential election by a mega-margin. Woo-hoo! I’ve been rooting for him since that electrifying speech at the 2004 Democratic National Convention, and I couldn’t be happier.

On Wednesday, as soon as I could sit down at the computer, I watched the speeches online: McCain’s concession speech first, then Obama’s acceptance speech and then the speech President Bush gave from the White House garden. And I just want to say how impressed I am by the democratic process.

I’m so proud to be from a country where the politician who runs for president but isn’t chosen by the country concedes graciously, expressing respect and pledging support for the other guy. Where the guy who does win the election doesn’t gloat over his victory but says to the other candidate: I need your help. Where the current president congratulates the person who will take over his job in a matter of weeks and promises to go out of his way to make the transition a smooth one.

Unlike the power-struggle shenanigans that prevail in most other countries around the world, I’m impressed by the peaceful and grown-up way America transfers leadership every four or eight years. This is democracy in action, and it is beautiful.

My primary allegiance is as a citizen of God's kingdom, but this week I've been especially proud to be an American.

* * * * * * *
(I won’t go into all the reasons I think Obama is the man for this moment in our country’s history, but among other things, the fact that he is a third-culture kid goes a long way with me. I'm not a TCK -- I grew up in America -- but I've lived outside the States for twelve of the past sixteen years, and one of the most enriching things for both my faith and my politics has been connecting with and worshipping alongside Christians from many other countries in the world. My views have come to reflect the world, including America, as seen through their eyes. My understanding of our role as Christians -- to be in the world but not of it -- resonates with the messages of groups like Christus Victor Ministries, Sojourners and the London Institute for Contemporary Christianity. Just in case anyone’s interested.)

Having Kids Changes Everything

2008-10-29T07:42:00.010Z

In Jack and Sophie's minds, no birthday is complete without blowing up balloons, singing the Happy Birthday song and blowing out candles on a cake -- in addition to opening presents, of course. So in celebrating Matt's birthday recently, we went all out. It was just the four of us, but with hats and horns and the other accompaniments, it was definitely a party!

Matt had asked the kids to decorate his cake. In addition to a handful of candles each, Jack contributed two Hot Wheels cars, and Sophie added the baby from her doll's house family.

We even played games like Pin the Tail On the Donkey and Pass the Parcel.

The following evening Matt and I marked the occasion as grown-ups do, by going out for dinner and a movie -- which was fabulous, of course -- but I'm not sure anything could top the fun of our family party, kids' style.
Happy Birthday, my Love! You bless us in a million ways, and I'm so grateful for another year together.

Have You Seen This Dog?

2008-10-24T21:48:00.002Z

This is Edward, a beloved, dachsund puppy sent from a kind-hearted friend in Berlin when Jack was born. At first Jack called him My Little Puppy, but just over a year ago, I don't know why, Jack decided to give him a proper name. (It's sad, I know, but for lack of creativity on my part all our kids' stuffed animals have been called by what they are: Duck, Donkey, Elephant, Teddy, Lamby, etc. Oh, except for the kitty cats which are affectionately known by the sound they make: Mao.) Since then Edward has been Jack's constant companion and essential snuggle buddy at bedtime. As you can see from the photograph, Edward even tagged along when Jack and Sophie raced around in their super capes. Edward has been to Sainsbury's, to church, to school and even to downtown London...

You already know what I'm going to say, don't you? Edward went missing about a month ago. He was last seen under the table at supper, but somehow, between tidy-uptime, bathtime and bedtime he disappeared. We searched high and low, in every room of the house, in every cupboard and every drawer, beneath and behind every piece of furniture... Jack handled it better than I thought he would, to be honest, but every couple days he'd say: We really need to find Edward.

Of course, on top of the sentimental factor, not knowing what had happened to Edward was driving me crazy! I hate when things go missing and can't really rest until they're found. In my desperation, I even got online to see if I could find a look-alike replacement, but no! It didn't exist. The company who made him seemed to have vanished as completely as Edward himself.

(Big sigh.)

So what to do? It may sound silly, but I prayed about it. Something along the lines of: Lord, I know that You know exactly where Edward is at this very minute. We've exhausted our ideas of where to look and are tired of rechecking the same old places with no new results. Will You please show me where he is? I need You to lead me to the place that we've obviously overlooked. It's such an insignificant thing, I know, but it would be a comfort to Jack and a relief to me.

This morning I looked around our dining room/playroom, mentally checking off the places we'd already searched, trying to think of a logical (but not normal) place for Edward to be. Somehow, my thoughts wandered over to Jack's guitar, zipped up in its vinyl carrying bag. I pulled it from its place, snugly tucked between the fireplace and the kids' toy cupboard, and sure enough, there was a big, soft lump protruding from within the front zipper pocket. I unzipped it and found Edward, a bit squashed but happily with us once again. Hooray!

And: Whew! Another answer to prayer. Silly or not, as answered prayers go, this experience got me thinking about other, more serious, times in my life when certain things have seemed "lost" to me: Trusting God to provide for the next step: college, jobs, financial support for ministry overseas, new friends in each new place He's taken me to, etc... Wondering as I turned 30 where in the world my husband was? I felt for sure that he was out there somewhere and knew I hadn't met him yet... Believing God for a miracle in the life of a family member not yet walking with the Lord... Waiting for news: a friend's diagnosis, the birth of a baby, the resolution of myriad situations out of my control...

I'm so grateful for all the times God has answered my prayers. The challenge, for me, is to live now, before the answer comes, in the freedom, joy and confidence I'll have afterward. Not all prayers are answered the way I'd like, of course. Friends aren't always healed, and to be honest, the lost aren't always found. But God's goodness isn't dependent on whether or not I get my wish. Sometimes things turn out differently than I'd hoped. Unfairly. Even wrongly. But my prayers are still answered. I may not understand it at the time, but I believe that God can make even these things into something beautiful, something beneficial in His divine economy.

That hope keeps me going in times of real struggle -- not the Edward type of thing, but when serious circumstances look bleak, when there's no news of progress in a particular situation and all I can see ahead is a big, black hole. I hope-against-hope because I really do trust that God knows what's going on. I really do believe that He's in control. And I believe I'll eventually have the clarity and understanding that He already has. So whether I can see it or feel it for myself, right now, I know that the answer is on its way, in His timing. It's real, it's just not here yet. This is what it means to walk by faith.

Thanks, Edward, for reminding me of this Truth. (P.S. Hey buddy, I'm glad you're back!)

Walking Out of Church This Morning

2008-10-19T19:54:00.002Z

Jack said: Mommy, look at that tree. It's nearly bald!

I'll Tell You What's Not Fair

2008-10-14T20:33:00.003Z

Jack is at the age where he's noticing the lop-sidedness of things -- mainly that his parents get to make more decisions than he does at this point in his life. When we tell him to do something he doesn't want to do (ie., brush teeth, eat veggies, tidy up toys), his latest response is, "It's not fair!"

Poor kid. We haven't consoled him a bit. Matt has seen more of the world than I have, up-close in all its genuine un-fair-ness, but I can't stand to hear my child complain about such piddly things. My unsympathetic response usually goes something like this: "I'll tell you what's not fair: That millions of children around the world don't have access to clean water, and we have as much as we want, every day. We don't have to go anywhere to get it, either -- it's piped right into our house. Now brush your teeth."

I know. It may be a little harsh for a five year-old. But hey, what about all the under 5's out there for whom dirty, disease-infested water (and worse) is a daily reality? Talk about harsh.

As I said, Matt has seen a lot of this kind of thing in his travels. When he gets back from an assignment, one of the things he does is filter through the thousands of images he's taken and identify the best 200. Then he goes through those to find the very best ten or twenty. That's called the top edit -- it's all that most people will ever see.

This morning I was brought to tears by this heart-rending photo essay on Time.com: The Perils of Childbirth in Afghanistan.

I was left wondering about the many pictures that didn't make the edit, about the vast numbers of other Afghan women whose stories haven't been told.

Talk about not fair.

Good Table Manners: A Work In Progress

2008-10-13T20:26:00.009Z

Jack and Sophie are great at helping to set the table before a meal and remembering to say thank you afterward. It's the stuff in between that needs a little work! So at breakfast this morning, we came up with the following list:

Close eyes and hold hands when giving thanks.
Don’t look around or act silly during prayer.

Sit properly.
Don’t play around.

Stay in your seat.
Don’t get out of your chair.

Eat what is given to you.
Don’t say, “Yuck.”

Chew with your mouth closed.
Don’t talk when you’re chewing.

Talk about pleasant things.
Don’t say rude words like poo-poo or bum-pum.

Listen when someone else is talking.
Don’t interrupt.

Wait to leave the table until everyone is finished.
Don’t get up before you’re excused.

Elijah Update (October 2008)

2008-10-10T18:56:00.007Z

A Recurring Theme

2008-10-08T19:00:00.005Z

There are times, as you go through life, when you look back and think: Gosh, I wish I hadn’t done such-and-such. At the time you may have thought nothing of it; you may have even sincerely believed you were doing the right thing. But given a little time and perspective, you realize that you were wrong, that you would go back and change it if you could. (Sad to say, I’ve had plenty of these.)

And then there are times, as you go through life, when you wake up in the morning, take a fresh look at what you’re doing and think: If I continue in this direction, I’m not going to like where I end up -- I’ll regret this. So you do what it takes to make changes according to what you know in your heart you’ll look back on and be glad about. You feel lighter, freer for the change and buoyed by a renewed sense of purpose.

This is where I’ve been the last week. And so: I changed my mind about Sophie going to preschool.

Our church has a great ministry to the children in our community. The preschool is wonderful. The teachers are capable and kind, and Sophie seemed to love it. I just realized I’m not ready to be apart from her two mornings a week.

I was getting to the gym those mornings, and that was a good thing. But I wasn’t home, and I wasn’t with Sophie. I found myself overly, unnecessarily busy, distracted by the pressure of where-we-need-to-be-when. I felt overwhelmed and stressed by things that normally don’t make me feel that way. It was horrible.

I’m happy to say that I feel a lot better now! Not quite as fit, perhaps, but better in every other way. My mum friends have noticed the difference, and my kids have, too.

* * * *

A couple weeks ago I had the chance to see one of my former Rift Valley Academy students who lives here in the UK. Spending the afternoon with her, and watching our daughters play together, was like tonic for my soul -- sweet and strong. On the way home and for several days afterward, I was caught up in memories of my years at RVA. Two thoughts kept coming back to me:

First of all, it doesn’t seem possible that sixteen years have passed since this breathtakingly beautiful young woman was a tiny, bespectacled girl standing beside my desk, defending her spelling of favor as favour, initiating me into the phenomenon of American vs. English language, culture, worldview -- so similar and yet so different. (It’s amazing how much my mindset has changed since that first year at RVA.) (And wow, sixteen years? I must be a lot older than I feel.)

Secondly, I wish I’d spent more one-on-one time with her, and with the other girls in the Class of ’99, when we were together on a daily basis. At the time, I was trying to balance teaching with all the other things that are inherent in serving at a boarding school. In retrospect, though, my official responsibilities don’t seem quite as important as they felt back then. Not that I shouldn’t have been prepared for class each day or able to read, remark on and hand back essays within a reasonable time of being written. But knowing now what life has held for many of these girls in the nine years since graduation, I wish I’d spent more time nurturing them individually, taking advantage of being in the same place at the same time. (Mind you, they’re all strong, capable women. They’re doing fine, and they don’t really need me. It’s just my mother’s heart for them coming through.)

Since that afternoon a few weeks ago, I’ve been thinking about the carpe diem concept: Seize the day. Time flies, so make the most of now. This too shall pass.

* * * *

While we were in Michigan this summer, my mom, my mother-in-law and I went out for a day’s shopping. (Woo-hoo! Besides our families, of course, shopping is what I miss the most about America.) We were in a department store, among the sales racks in the women’s section, and I said I wanted to see what I could find for Sophie. So I turned the corner and found that, in order to get to the toddlers’ clothes, I had to go through infants’. And I nearly burst into tears to realize that we don’t shop there anymore.

Here in England this is called feeling broody. No, we’re not planning on having more children -- we got started too late for that -- but I’m really missing the days when my kids were babies. Each stage of their lives has been magical, and I have no doubt they will continue to be. But this season seems to be over too soon. I don’t feel ready for it.

A friend once passed along to me a bit of wisdom she had received about being the mother of young children: The years go fast and the days so slow.

Donna, you were right.

It's Here!

2008-10-02T12:03:00.002Z

My absentee ballot arrived in the post today. I'm so excited! I won't wax political, but I will say that I really, really love voting in presidential elections. So today is a happy day -- and the sun is shining!

Getting Back in the Groove

2008-09-30T22:20:00.002Z

I've felt pulled in too many directions the last few weeks for writing anything coherent to post on this blog. But I'm doing some reorganizing in terms of time and commitments, so things are looking up in that regard. I'll write again soon, but finally! Here are some pictures from our oh-so-lovely holiday at my parents' house in August.

Among other simple joys, Sophie and Gran caught up on coloring together.

We spent a day at Greenfield Village, visiting Thomas the Tank Engine. Jack was overjoyed to discover that Thomas was REAL. He and Sophie had a blast finding their way through this maze of hay bales, and Pa had fun trying to keep up with them.

Although he's a huge Thomas fan, Jack's favorite thing of all was unlimited plunges down this enormous, inflatable slide!

It was a full day. Thanks to my Dad, Sophie didn't miss her nap after all.

Sophie enjoys an afternoon on Lake Fenton with my beautiful sister.

An impromptu picnic in the back garden. Memories are made of moments like these.

Thanks again, Mom and Dad, for everything! You're the BEST.

My Sweet In-Laws

2008-09-30T22:02:00.000Z

Our time in Michigan was all the more blessed because Matt's parents joined us for the last few days. If I started counting the ways my in-laws are so wonderful, I'd be up all night. As rare as it is to marry someone as perfect (for me) as Matt is, I think it's a precious thing to fall in love with his parents as well.

Here's Jack and Grandma discussing the joys of throwing pennies in a fountain.

And here's Sophie and Papa trying out the neighbors' swings.

After the kids and I returned to England, all four grandparents went on a weekend holiday to Mackinac Island. It's gorgeous up there in the summertime, and the tranquility was just what they needed after the excitement (read: emotional and physical exhaustion) of our visit.

I'm so fortunate to have you in my life, Mom and Dad. I'm glad we're family together!

God Never Needs Alone Time

2008-09-12T18:37:00.013Z

Bedtime prayers take a very l-o-n-g time at our house because, in addition to thanking God for our many blessings and asking Him to bring healing, hope, courage, strength, joy, peace, etc. to those who need it, Jack is full of questions. No matter what or who we're praying for, there's always something else he wants to know.

Sometimes he asks more about the people we're praying for. Sometimes he asks why things are the way they are in the world. Sometimes he asks about God or what it's like in heaven. Tonight, in addition to a host of other things, he asked about prayer itself.

Jack: Does Jesus ever say, "No"?

Me: Mm-hmm, sometimes He does.

Jack: Does He ever say, "Shhh"?

Me: No, honey. He never does.

I always learned more as a teacher than I did as a student, and now as a parent I'm learning more than I did as a child. Somewhere between Jack's questions and my responses, I'm able to see, as if for the first time, the enormity of the answers. Tonight I realized two things:

1) As his parent, I need to find ways to enable Jack to feel heard more.

2) Unlike human parents, God is never in a hurry to get us into bed so He can have a break before another day begins tomorrow. He's always available to us, welcoming our prayers and our communication with Him. He's always actively, intently listening.

* * * * * * *
I love the Lord, because he listens to my prayers for help. He paid attention to me, so I will call to him for help as long as I live. (Psalm 116:1-2 NCV)

Where Are The Kiddos?

2008-09-07T20:57:00.010Z

This morning in church our pastor asked the children if they had all gone back to school this past week. Then he asked if anyone was going to start school this week. Little Sophie raised her hand! Clever girl. She'll be going to our church pre-school on Tuesday and Thursday mornings, and she couldn't be happier.

I haven't posted photos in a while. For those of you going through Adorable Angel Baby Withdrawal, here are some pictures, compliments of my wonderful father-in-law. In the first one Jack is holding one of my Mom's cats, and in the second one he's holding a month-old bunny at Grandpa Tiny's Farm in Frankenmuth, MI. This boy loves animals.

Of course, you can't go to Frankenmuth and not pose for one of these:
I'll try to post more pictures of both kids, especially from our super-fun holiday, soon.

Obsessive-Compulsiveness Goeth Before A Fall

2008-09-05T13:31:00.010Z

The calendar says that we had a summer, but the weather begs to differ. Delighted as I was to visit my family in Michigan in August, the thought of possibly missing out on two weeks' warmth and sunshine here (because England is gorgeous when it's warm and sunny -- amazingly, breathtakingly gorgeous) did cross my mind. Well, luckily for me and unluckily for the other 60 million residents of the UK, it rained the entire time we were gone. And it's still raining.

Everywhere I go -- to Jack's school, the library, the supermarket, the charity shops -- everyone is complaining about the rain. The reason the British talk about the weather so often, the saying goes, is that there's so very much of it. And today the weather is coming down, down, down.

Autumn is here, or very nearly here. I smelled it in the air a couple days ago, when we woke up to sunshine and the rain stayed away until evening. Hooray! My all-time favorite season! I'm ready to get out in the garden and start the fall process of tidying up the beds, but so far all we've been able to do is talk about getting the patio furniture in the garage, out of the rain. In spite of the dreary 10-day forecast, I hope we have some dry days soon. I just bought some lovely tulip bulbs that I'd love to get in the ground. But for now I'm sitting inside, watching the rain. Enjoying some time alone while Sophie naps. Eating leftover pasta and drinking another diet Coke.

I know, I know! I claimed to be so over it in my last post. You probably saw that coming, didn't you, and yeah, I should have, too. I should have known that I'd be haunted by those four cans of diet Coke in the fridge. That I couldn't just let them sit there until someone, sometime came for dinner or a chat and said, "Forget the tea. What I could really go for is a diet Coke!" That I'd be pushed over the edge of reason by that nagging temptation of Just One More. That then, when only three remained, I'd rationalize how much better it would be to go ahead and finish them all so there wouldn't be any more left to tempt me. That infinitely stronger than the desire for another taste of diet Coke is my craving for neatness. Order. Closure. Control.

I'm glad it's September, not just because the leaves will turn colors soon but also because fall is such a good begin-again time. Summer holidays are over, the kids are back to school and we're getting back into a routine. It's a fresh start in so many ways: I'm setting the alarm so I can have an hour or so to myself in the mornings, which makes an enormous difference in the rest of my days. I'm going through our closets, taking inventory of what doesn't fit and what has hung unworn in the past year or so, gathering clothes for the charity shops. I'm getting back to the gym regularly, building it into my normal schedule.

I love times like this -- taking stock, being intentional, feeling motivated. Reminding myself what's real and what isn't. Choosing to relax (or even just consciously choosing to want to relax) into the moment, rather than just trying to get through it. Choosing to let go of some things I've tried too hard to hold onto. Times like this help soothe that inner part of me that cries out to be productive in order to feel purposeful. Times like this help me regroup and remember what's worthwhile and what... isn't.

After reconnecting with my family and with various long-lost friends who passed through London over the summer, my soul feels full enough and my mind is at peace enough to settle back into our little family's business-as-usual.

Fall is on our doorstep. Which means that winter is next, the season that challenges me mentally, emotionally and spiritually like nothing else. In spite of that, and in spite of the absence of a proper summer season, I look out at the rain today and feel optimistic. It's only weather. I can't control it, but there are plenty of other things I can control -- like being more honest, lowering my expectations of myself and not taking myself or my moods too seriously. That and, by God's grace, dealing with one day at a time.

I won't get it perfect, but that's okay. I don't need to. I do need to keep my eyes on Him. I need to trust Him. And I need to rest in the confidence that He is, ultimately, in control.
* * * * * * *
Look to the LORD and His strength; seek His face always. (Psalm 105:4 NIV)

Be strong in the grace that is in Christ Jesus. (2 Timothy 2:1)

"My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in your weakness." (2 Corinthians 12:9)

An Old Habit and a New Accomplishment

2008-09-03T05:33:00.000Z

For the first time in over twelve years, over the weekend I drank a diet Coke. It tasted exactly the same as it did when I used to drink it daily in my teens and 20s, and although there are four more cans in our fridge left over from my sister-in-law's (wonderful!) visit at the beginning of August, I can't say that I care to have another one anytime soon. Nice, huh, to kick a habit and not even miss it?

For the second time ever in my life, last night I successfully hemmed a pair of trousers by hand. My mom has always been an expert in sewing hems, but I could never do it without the stitches showing through. Motherhood brings things out in us that we never knew were possible, doesn't it? Here I am, for the second September in a row, hemming trousers for Jack's school uniform. He starts Year 1 (American = first grade) today! Which means I need to get off the computer and into the kitchen so I can pack his lunch...

No Place Like Home

2008-08-30T02:31:00.000+01:00

It's 2:30 a.m. in London, and I'm sitting here in the dark. Wide awake.

Less than 48 hours ago the kids and I got back from two weeks with my parents in Michigan. It was the perfect holiday! Lots of space for Jack and Sophie to run, play, explore, chase the cats, jump on the neighbor's trampoline, etc. Lots of one-on-one time with family -- in addition to being with Gran and Pa, my sister joined us for several days at the beginning, Matt came for a few days in the middle and Matt's parents came for several days at the end of our time. Lots of togetherness, in the best sense of the word. I intended to see a few friends and make a few phone calls, but the days got away from me. In the end it was just us, and it was lovely.

Michigan is a great place to visit in the summertime, and my parents' house is wonderful anytime. So relaxing. Just what I needed! The whole time we were there, it felt so good to be home with my Mom and Dad. Retirement and grandparenting really become them! The day before we left, Jack said he wanted to stay and live with them forever. He wasn't the only one.

Jack and Sophie travel really well, except for that part between when the airplane takes off and when it lands again. On long flights, when the kids need to sleep but can't relax because they're too distracted by all the new sights/sounds/smells around them, I am the woman that everyone wishes would make her child stop screaming. I am the woman perfect strangers approach and say, "Is there anything I can do to help?" I am the woman who dreams of the day she can travel alone, reading a book, looking out the window and drifting in and out of sleep while someone else's kid does the screaming.

I am the woman whose husband surprised her with an appointment for a Thai massage the afternoon we got back. It was amazing! Exactly what I needed, along with the clean house and stocked fridge I came home to. I am the woman who thinks her husband is the best.

I also came home to ripe, crisp Cox apples on the tree and fat, red Autumn Bliss raspberries on the canes in our little back garden, to a fresh appreciation for all that I love about our little home and community and a sense of contentment that we live here, that our kids are at these delightful (and challenging) ages, that we are blessed in so many ways on two continents.

Honestly, mine is a charmed life. Well, except for the jet-lag.

Eyes On Beijing

2008-08-09T13:43:00.004+01:00

Jack and I are watching the Olympics. We managed to see the last part of the Opening Ceremony yesterday afternoon, and he was totally into it.

Mommy, Mommy, look! There's the Olympic flag. I love the Olympic flag! Here comes the Olympic torch. I love the Olympic torch! Oooooh, fireworks! I love the Olympic games, don't you, Mommy? Don't you just LOVE the Olympic games?

In spite of not posting in the last few weeks, I can tell I'm not going to get much written today. It's hard to focus with Jack's running commentary beside me. This is his first Olympics, and he's naturally excited, asking questions in one breath and explaining things to me in the next.

The swimmer in lane 3 won! Look! She's very strong. Number 1 jumped in after the bigger numbers. One person jumped two times. Zero is not a number, is it? Wow, that was a quick race. The American won, so we won. Because we're American, right?

The Olympics that stand out in my childhood memory was Montreal 1976. I was captivated by a young gymnast just seven years older than I was at the time, Romania's Nadia Comaneci.

This year the events Jack especially wants to see are diving and gymnastics. We're watching some of the men's gymnastic qualifications now.

Whoa. Wow. Wowee! Omigosh. OmiGOSH. Mommy, did you see THAT? That was SO cool.

We're very impressed, sitting here on this cold, wet afternoon. It's going to be an exciting two weeks, both on the telly and on our couch.

How to Melt the Heart of An Englishwoman

2008-07-23T19:16:00.004+01:00

Bring her homemade chocolate chip cookies, evidently.

Jack and I arrived at school a few minutes early today and headed straight for the office. Yesterday he delivered hand-drawn pictures and plates of cookies to his teachers. Today he brought the same to the head teacher, receptionist, school nurse and custodian.

It wasn't what the receptionist was expecting, bless her. She teared up immediately and looked back and forth between Jack and me, waving her hands in front of her face in that classic, "I'm going to cry, I don't want to cry, oh alright, I'm crying" kind of way. She glanced down at the Thank You note I'd taped on top: For all you do, all year long... Enjoy your hard-earned holidays!

Maybe the only day more emotional than the first day of school is the last one. Right now, though, my favorite is the day after that. Matt arrives home tonight! So tomorrow we're going to enjoy the luxury of being together and not going anywhere at all.

English As A Spoken Language

2008-07-21T12:10:00.004+01:00

We had a breakthrough in Sophie's communication today!

The patio door was open on this gloriously sunny day. Sophie was coloring at the table, and I was sitting across from her, enjoying my mid-morning cup of tea and admiring her handiwork. Outside a gentle breeze was blowing. From one of the neighborhood treetops, a little bird chirped out her greeting to a friend.

Sophie looked up and announced, "I hear bird." And then, just to make sure I understood, she elaborated: "Tweet-tweet."

Snapshot

2008-07-18T17:53:00.006+01:00

We've lived here for two years now -- two years this month. The summer of 2006 was incredibly hot, and as we walked up to the high street and back, getting to know the area, we discovered a sweet surprise: blackberries! They grow wild along unexpected paths, and the place we first found them is just before the bus stop on our main road. When they're in season, we stop and pick a few -- one or two for each of us. It sounds funny, I guess, but it enhances my sense of belonging to this community that we intentionally leave the remaining ripe berries for other passersby.

All fall, all winter and all spring as we walk along that road the children will often point to that particular spot and say, "This is where the blackberries grow in the summertime!" In the past several weeks we've been watching the white flowers and subsequent green berries emerge, and today, finally, some of the berries were ready, black and sweet.

Walking home in the drizzling rain, having spent a couple hours at a friends' house after school, I took a mental snapshot of the moment: Jack looking like a miniature Morton's fisherman in his raincoat, walking beside me with one hand on the handle of Sophie's stroller; Sophie taking off her shoes, taking out her hair bands, singing Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star within her protective plastic shield; me carrying Jack's Thomas the Tank Engine umbrella, having forgotten my own, and all of us tasting the first blackberries of the year.

I like that the anniversary of our arrival in England can be marked by something as sweet as blackberry season. I like that we encounter wild blackberries as we walk along the road. I like that walking is something we do a lot of. I like our little community. And today I didn't mind the rain. Welcome to year three...

Big Hair, Big Deal?

2008-07-15T22:40:00.008+01:00

Anyone who knows me knows my hair: BIG. Always has been, as long as I can remember. It took me years to figure out how to work with it instead of against it. Some super-intensely moisturizing hair care products helped, and I used them faithfully. Expensively. I bought the big bottles, salon size, taped over the caps and took them by multiples in action packers to Kenya. Whenever I would run dangerously low, very kind people -- usually family or close friends who understand the plight of having big hair, or maybe they just indulge me? -- would bring them over to me in their luggage when they were visiting. Six years in Kenya and not one day did I have to do without the stuff. Amazing, really.

I took bottles and bottles of these products to Cyprus, too, but the water there was different... As in, real different. Hard, with lots of limescale. And all of a sudden my products didn't work their magic in the same way. My hair had a wiry, much coarser texture than usual, and it took me a while to work out the kinks, metaphorically speaking (because the literal kinks and curls were still there, of course).

And then we moved to England. And my wonderful, adoring, supportive husband said no to filling up our luggage with giant bottles of hair stuff. "We live in London, England," he said. "If they don't have it here, you don't need it." He had a point, in spite of not having much hair of his own, and I knew he was right.

Plus, it turns out the water here is even harder and more limescale-y than it was in Cyprus! And my hair has been even worse in terms of frizz factor. My old faithful wasn't working. At. All. So I started experimenting with different lines of hair stuff and finally found one! That works! Wonders! Truly! And is available at my grocery store!

Or, it WAS... until a few weeks ago. Suddenly the entire line went on sale and now it's no longer being stocked. I'm stunned and, to be honest, a little scared. I've checked a few other places around but haven't been able to find it yet. It's a British brand, but my particular products-of-choice don't seem to be in demand among the rest of the women in this area. Boo!

It's not actually a big deal. I mean, there's a million other, much more important things going on in the world, but if you were here and we were drinking tea together, you can bet we'd talk hair. For a few minutes at least.

Summertime in England

2008-07-12T10:37:00.009+01:00

Last Saturday we had a break from the rain, and it was just long enough for us to join the throngs of people at a nearby village Fun Fair. Bouncy castles, cotton candy, face painting... The kids were beside themselves!

In spite of my on-again/off-again/on-again/off-again cardigan that day and the fact that we've had to turn the heat back on several times since turning it off sometime in May, not to mention that school is in session for a few more weeks yet, it's starting to feel a bit like summertime.

Sugar Is Sweet, and So Is Sophie

2008-07-11T13:57:00.016+01:00

You know how, when you join a new group of some kind, the leader will often start off with a question for everyone to answer in their own way -- an ice-breaker, they call it -- to help people warm up toward one another and get them comfortable interacting together. Sometimes the questions are easy enough to answer:

What's your idea of a perfect holiday/vacation?
What's one goal you’d like to accomplish during your lifetime?
If someone made a movie of your life would it be a drama, a comedy, a romantic-comedy, an action film or science fiction?

But the one that always throws me is this one:

If you were an animal (or fruit or car or ice cream flavor), which one would you be and why?

It's a good question, but I'm always in a panic about what to say. I'd do better if I could think about my answer for a while, and usually in those ice-breaker sessions you're expected to come up with something right away. Oh, the pressure! In front of people! To come up with an answer! That doesn't make me sound as geeky as I really am!

In junior high Spanish class, the first thing we all learned was how to ask someone what their name is. ¿Cómo se llama usted? The literal English translation is, "How do you call yourself?" Mind you, Sophie is still working toward using English. My consolation is that Jack didn't really talk until he was nearly three, but when he did it was in complete sentences -- and he's been talking nearly non-stop ever since. So I'm not particularly worried. Plus, I happen to know that Sophie uses rather complex grammatical construction -- she has full-length conversations with herself -- it's just not in a language I can understand.

In Sophie-speak, banana is "dub-dub," baby is "bah-poh," sorry/excuse me is "haw-wee" and Signing Time is "Ih-Ih". (Nope, I don't get that one, either.) Mommy is "Mama," Daddy is "Dada," Jack is "Tack" and Sophie is (drumroll please...) "Sheh-gah".

It must be nice to be so un-self-conscious! But why deny the truth, you know?

Collecting My Thoughts and Trying To Hold Onto Them

2008-06-24T12:20:00.007+01:00

I'm making a list.

I wake up each morning intending to do all kinds of things that, somehow, I never do. Little organizational things like putting pictures into frames, going through our closets for donations to the charity shops and updating Sophie's baby book. Big meaningful things like finishing those parenting books, updating our blessings journal and making phone calls I've been meaning to make.

Lists motivate me and help keep me focused. I'm much more productive when I'm working from a list than when I'm just winging it. Some days winging it can be relaxing and therapeutic, but some days I end up feeling like I've wasted a perfectly good chance to get something done.

What I really need to keep a list of, though, in addition to tasks, is ideas for posts on this blog. During the day I'm struck with great ideas -- funny things that happen, little observations on life, conversations with my kids -- but by the time I sit down to the computer, it's all gone. My memory is hopeless. I'm going to have to start doing those special keep-your-brain-active quiz things that they advertise for the elderly. Or else, I'm going to have to carry a pen and paper with me wherever I go.

Because today, for example, several excellent ideas came to mind...

Ummm, what was I saying?

Pardon?

2008-06-23T19:46:00.008+01:00

I took Jack to the clinic this morning. The doctor confirmed our suspicions: a mild ear infection. It's called here, of all things, glue ear: thick, sticky fluid behind the eardrum. Normally the eardrum should be gray and shiny. Jack's is pink and dull. His symptoms are typical: moodiness, slightly raised temperature, loss of appetite and hearing. I knew something was wrong when Jack started turning up the volume on the television and was constantly asking, "What did you say?" The good news: with antibiotics it should clear up in 7-10 days. And also: it's treatable, temporary and not too terribly painful. I'm really thankful for our family's normally excellent health. Counting your blessings, practicing the attitude of gratitude, looking for the silver lining: whatever you call it, it's a habit worth repeating.

Two Years Well Spent

2008-06-21T13:53:00.009+01:00

I just filled out a survey for alumni of Africa Inland Mission's TIMO (Training In Ministry Outreach) program. Although TIMO usually establishes two-year teams among people groups in rural villages in Africa, in 1994-1996 our team lived among the South Asians of Nairobi. Twelve years ago may seem like a vague and distant memory to a lot of people my age (!), but my time with TIMO was one of the most defining periods of my life. Answering the survey questions this morning was like commenting on something real and vital and presently active right now. In fact, I was just saying this week to a former student passing through London on a long layover (It was soooo lovely to reconnect with you, Danielle! You’re a beautiful young woman, inside and out, and I’m so very proud of you!) how much my experiences with TIMO prepared me to do just what I’m doing now, right where we are. The invesment of those two years continues to pay huge dividends in my life (and, I pray, in the lives of those around me).

Then I was single and enjoyed the freedom of disappearing into my neighbors’ lives for days at a time: I began waxing, wore shalwar kameez and painted my nails in matching colors, drank pots of masala tea, ate with my hands, watched scores of Hindi films while listening to endless amounts of extended-family gossip, shopped on Ngara Road, attended henna parties and elaborate wedding rituals and, by God’s grace, had several chances to share Truth. No longer single and no longer living in Africa, I’m tied to our home and family routines. I wear jeans, go sleeveless and shop at Sainsbury’s, but the lessons of putting people ahead of time/tasks and investing in cross-cultural friendships have served me well. Extremely, beautifully, immeasurably well.

I tried to answer the open-ended questions of the survey in broad terms because I knew if I started describing individual women (and their particular situations) who’ve been part of my life since TIMO, I’d end up going on and on. That’s something better talked about in person over a pot of tea in the garden or, say, in heaven when we’ve got all the time in the world. Even the generalities, though, are specific in their beneficial impact on my life and work:

As an orientation for further cross-cultural work, TIMO was:
Perfect! TIMO gave me skills and insight that I rely on constantly, most notably the ability to plant myself deeply in the host culture, building and finding joy in heart-level relationships among women within the local community. This has proved to be my lifeline as a (now) wife and mother of two small children because my husband’s ministry requires frequent travel out of the country and there are no other workers with our company living nearby. My life/ministry here is rich and full with friendships across several cultures, and I feel the benefit and influence of my years with TIMO on a daily basis. TIMO also planted in me a deep love and appreciation for South Asian people, food and culture. In both Cyprus and now England, God has brought women from Hindu, Muslim and Sikh backgrounds into my life, extending my opportunities to interact with our team’s wider people group even though I no longer live in Nairobi.

Overall, my TIMO experience was:
Outstanding! Life-changing! A tremendous gift! I’m amazed to look back and see all the ways God used TIMO to prepare my heart and mind specifically for situations I’ve encountered in the twelve (!) years since our team served together. I’m confident that the coming years will reveal even more miracles of His plan to bless and multiply the TIMO investment, and I’m only one among many!

I have a soft, warm spot in my heart for AIM, for TIMO and for all the people -- colleagues, teammates, RVA students and their parents, African/Asian neighbors and friends, other expats -- who were part of that season of my life. They would probably be surprised to know how very often they are part of my thoughts and prayers during the day and my dreams at night, even after all this time.

Sometimes I’m the one who’s surprised, as I was by a call on my mobile phone during a mums’ Bible study recently. The number on display began with 254, the country code for Kenya. “Excuse me,” I said to the other mums. “I really need to take this call.” And suddenly, there was the familiar voice of my Muslim neighbor from South C, calling to say they’d had another grandbaby and when are we coming to see them in Nairobi?

Often I even have a little déjà vu moment, like earlier this week when Sophie stood perfectly still on one of our dining room chairs as a Muslim friend combed and braided her hair. (She never stands still for me!) I was brushing and braiding the long, thick, dark hair of my friend’s two young daughters, and the scene reminded me of the untold hours I spent “doing hair” with the daughters and female cousins of that very same neighbor family. (As Sophie gets older I’m having fun rediscovering girly things and sharing them with her!)

(Many of my friends here have boys because they’re the mums of Jack’s friends at school, but God brought M into my life when we first moved here and renewed our relationship this spring when her elder daughter began taking piano lessons from a woman just down the street from us. Now every Tuesday afternoon M and her daughters walk home from school with us. The children play sweetly together, T goes to her lesson and in the meantime M and I drink tea and chat. She has a lot of pain in her life, and our weekly visits are ideal opportunities for me to share Scripture and speak Truth to her deeply felt needs.)

All this reflection on my TIMO experience and its relevance to the wider call on my life makes me even more grateful to God for the ways He has led me and for the grace-full gift of faith and willingness to follow Him on His terms. It makes me want to encourage young, single believers everywhere to pursue cross-cultural opportunities like TIMO now, while life is relatively uncomplicated and unconfined, just God-and-me. It makes me appreciate the continuity of life, even of seemingly different phases, and the importance of teaching my children the song as well as the concept: Trust and Obey.

It also makes me wonder where Jack and Sophie will end up living when they grow up, in which cultural contexts they will plant their lives and among what people groups they will find the joy of living out their faith for Jesus’ sake?

Every Child Should Be So Blessed

2008-06-15T20:57:00.004+01:00

Ten years ago next month, God brought a wonderful man into my life. So wonderful, in fact, that I still wake up each morning intensely relieved, with feelings of admiration and attraction for Matt and indescribable gratefulness to God. One of these days when our little ones are older and my time is not as occupied, I'll sit down and write the story of God's grace in bringing us together. On my end, it was after a season of intentional singleness while recovering from years of regrettable decisions in dating (say that five times fast). To sum up: it was a miracle.

Even when I knew that I loved Matt and wanted to marry him, it wasn't until I really felt God say, "This man is from Me; you can trust him," that I knew. Part of the revelation came in my recognition of Matt's integrity and strength of character -- I knew that he would be a good father to our children. I still remember exactly where I was, coming around the break in the hedge at the end of my early morning walk, when it hit me: Our children would be safe and well cared for on every level.

Of course, when you've known someone ten weeks it's impossible to imagine all the ways a statement like that will play out over ten years' time -- how much I would come to depend on his common sense in times of both certainty and self-doubt; how much his humility and honesty would give our family the love and security that no money can buy; how often his sense of humor would dissolve tension and enable us to find the balance that is crucial to a successful team. Back then, how could I have known these things?

How could I have known how heart-meltingly lovely it would be to see his sweet nature expressed in Jack's personality and his brown eyes reproduced in Sophie's expressions? Or how intensely, how immensely my feelings for him would grow over the years while watching him give and receive affection with them -- playing, teaching, encouraging, praying?

It's not easy, working on something as important as building a family with someone as different from one another as we are in many ways. But I see God's wisdom in bringing us together so that we can trust one another's strengths and balance out one another's weaknesses. We're definitely better together than we are separately, and I'm in awe that I get to be the one walking through life by his side. Our kids have a tremendous role model, and you only need to see their reaction whenever he walks into the room to understand how much they value him as well.

You are an extraordinary man and a truly amazing dad. Happy Father's Day, my Love!

Another Benefit of Being An Older Mom: My Kids Are Too Young To Feel Embarrassed By Me (Yet)

2008-06-12T12:46:00.007+01:00

A friend of mine here has a list of things she wants to do before she turns 40. It never occurred to me in my 30s to make such a list. I’ve never been good at long-term goal-setting. I’m great, though, at looking back and being really grateful for the opportunities that have come my way.

I can confidently say that I would never have aspired to start running at age 40, but guess what? I’m halfway through the Couch to 5k program. And on Tuesday night I attended my first Bollywood Dancing class. You heard me! I’m so excited and, simultaneously, so shocked at myself. I’ve never been athletic or physically coordinated by any stretch of the imagination. Not only that, but I have absolutely no innate sense of rhythm.

But here I am, turning 41 in a couple weeks, enjoying the challenge of trying to make my body do new and strange things. I wonder: Is this what it feels like to embrace the freedom of getting older, or is this what a mid-life crisis looks like?

I'm Still Here

2008-06-10T15:30:00.009+01:00

I haven't posted much over the past few weeks. First of all, my sister was here! It was pure joy, both having her join in on family life during the day and having her all to myself when the kids were in bed. Lynda came for Jack's half-term break from school, halfway through the two weeks Matt was gone, and we didn't dare waste time on frivolities like watching tv or writing blog posts. Instead we played with Jack and Sophie, took them to the park and hung out in our back garden. We laughed and sang and danced. We made and ate gorgeous meals. We read some, went to the gym some and talked lots. She flew back to NYC last Tuesday, and I fully intended to write about how wonderful her time with us was, but going into all the details was too hard. I missed her too much!

I also haven't spent much time on the computer because the weather has been beautiful, and much of every day I've been outside in our little back garden! This is our third summer here, and after planting, pruning, moving and removing various plants, I'm really happy about how it's all progressing. So won't you pardon me for not posting as regularly while this glorious summer season is here? I want to soak up as much of paradise as I possibly can, while I can.

The other, weightier thing I've been caught up in is the new phase of parenting we find ourselves in. The baby phase I loved, I mean loved, both times around. It's physically exhausting but emotionally rewarding, and we were blessed with sweetsweet, easy babies. The toddler phase can be challenging, I'll admit, but all in all it was predictable, manageable and I still felt somewhat in control. This, though? Not so much. I don't even know what to call it, but basically in the past several months Jack has become his own person (!) with his own ideas (!), his own agenda (!) and his own priorities (!). The hardest bit for me has been facing the fact that I'm definitely not in control.

At first I felt threatened. Then angry. Then defensive, and then scared. I thought about it. I prayed about it. I started talking about it -- to Matt, to the other mums in my small group and at coffee mornings with mums from school -- and I soon recognized that the problem wasn't so much with Jack but with me. I had allowed my expectations of Jack's behavior to affect my attitude toward him, and we were both showing clear signs of feeling the disconnect.

In addition to some refreshingly honest mom blogs, I've been reading some books that are challenging me to think outside my normal box of Proper Parenting. Although not written from a specifically Christian perspective (no offense, Dr. James Dobson, but Bringing Up Boys gave me nothing practical or substantial to go on), they emphasize the importance of treating our children with respect and honor, the way we would want to be treated -- parenting by the Golden Rule -- and showing them unconditional love. These two ideas (not really new, are they? but freshly examined and applied, you might say) have radically affected my thoughts, words and actions toward both Jack and Sophie in the last several weeks.

I hesitate to share the titles of the books because I'm several chapters into each but not all the way through any. And I hesitate to share specific examples of situations I've mishandled with Jack because I'm not brave enough to expose my parenting weaknesses that fully. (You're okay just taking my word for it, right?) But I will say that the reason this new approach is making sense to me is that I know how drastically differently I respond when I'm confronted with something I've done wrong, depending on how I'm confronted. Although I'm no longer a child, my inner sense of security is the same as it has been my entire life: strong and confident when approached gently -- with humility, understanding and grace -- and fearful and defensive when approached harshly -- with judgment, criticism and condemnation. In the former, I'm truly sorry and eagerly look for ways to change/make amends for whatever I've said/thought/done. In the latter, my gut reaction is to defend myself and resist accepting that there may be some truth in the matter.

It's also making sense to me because the Bible is clear that God loves us unconditionally and that, as our Heavenly Father, He's the ideal parenting example. How many times have I done something wrong and been shouted at from the heavens or immediately struck by lightning as a direct result? By contrast, how many times have I done something wrong and been uncomfortable in my conscience, confronted by the words of Scripture/a thoughtful friend/pastor/counselor or suffered the natural consequences?

It may appear that I've become more permissive as a mom or that I've loosened my grip, lowered my expectations and softened my approach toward parent/child accountability. My ongoing quest is to exhibit wisdom, balance and truth in my parenting, to treat my children with dignity, grace and unconditional love and to lovingly prepare and enable them to -- willingly and joyfully -- make wise decisions, both now and as they continue life's journey.

Anyway, that's where I've been the last several weeks.

* * * * * * *
Love is patient, love is kind... It is not rude... it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails. (1 Corinthians 13:4-8a NIV)

Elijah Update (June 2008)

2008-06-06T14:04:00.007+01:00

For new readers to this blog, the following update is about a strong and brave little guy named Elijah, born February 6, 2007. His mom and I worked together at Rift Valley Academy in 1996-1999. Elijah has Hemophilia B, but more importantly, he has a worldwide prayer support team! Since my initial post about Elijah and his mom's initial update the very next day, posting updates from Elijah's parents on this blog is a small way I can give support from far away and generate much-needed prayer for Elijah's continued growth and healing. So please, join the praying!

Dear Elijah Warriors,

Wow! God is AMAZING! Have you ever looked out at the world and thought, "What is God doing?" I learned a long time ago that He knows exactly what He is doing, and we are here to bring our praise to the Father no matter what our circumstances may be.

Throughout our days, weeks and months in the hospital, not knowing if Elijah would live the next few hours, we commented several times that we cannot imagine our lives without Christ. God carried us through our tough times and carries us daily as we face the unknown of the future. Whatever your circumstances, remember that God has a plan. We may NEVER know it here on this earth, but He really does have a bigger plan.

We haven't sent out an update since Elijah's birthday in February, but we've heard from many Elijah warriors who are going through some withdrawal, so we thought we'd throw out a quick update and let you know that Elijah is doing GREAT!

He will be 16 months old this week and hasn't needed any replacement factor for Hemophilia since August of 2007 -- almost a year! He is trying to figure out the crawling thing now. He is quite funny how he scoots on his side. He is a FAST roller, though, and can get to where he wants to be before you blink if you're not paying attention. If something is in his way, he rolls over it -- toys, pillows, etc. Nothing can stop him from his goal. We love to see this daily as he continues to develop cognitive skills. There appears to be no evidence of damage from his brain hemorrhage. God is AMAZING.

We had hoped that Elijah would be walking by October of this year as he will become a big brother around October 9, but he is moving at his own pace and strengthening his muscles after months of surgeries and being "bundled like a burrito" so he couldn't pull out any tubes. Be praying for us as we work with him to crawl and walk, keep him from having severe injuries and work with a newborn at the same time.

You may ask... "What if your second child has Hemophilia as well? Why would you have a second child?"

God tells us that children are a blessing, and we are so excited about a second one. We pray that our new little one is free from a bleeding disorder, but there is nothing wrong with Elijah. We don't want him growing up thinking he is different or odd. He has a condition that is treatable, and we are grateful for his life.

If Elijah's brother or sister has Hemophilia, we will praise the Lord. Elijah will then have someone to teach, someone to talk to about life, someone to go to camp with, someone who will understand when he feels down about infusions. If our boy/girl does not have Hemophilia, we will yet praise the Lord. Praise Him in all circumstances. He really does know the big picture!
We hope you are enjoying your start of summer. Schools are out here in Kansas, and we are awaiting the wheat harvest in a few months. As always, we appreciate your prayers for Elijah and for us.

In the love of Christ,
Judy, Joel and Elijah

Sugar and Spice

2008-05-22T12:20:00.012Z

Much of my parental energy lately has been focused on Jack, on the joys and challenges of his turning five -- five! I know, when did that happen? -- and on my mother-version of separation anxiety. I keep meaning to write a post about it, but that will have to wait until I can crystallize my thoughts and separate them from my emotions a bit.

So today I'm just going to post a couple pictures of little Sophie. Although her own determination is becoming apparent, she's at an age that is so much less complicated, so much easier on me!
See what I mean?

Home Remedy Revelation, Or The Apple Cider Vinegar Trick

2008-05-17T21:09:00.011Z

If my great-grandmother was still alive, I might have gotten rid of this pesky cough a lot sooner than this weekend. Yes, I'm talking about the cough that has plagued me -- and the family and friends who've had to hear me hacking away -- for the past two months at least. Just before Matt left on Friday, he said if I was still coughing when he got back, he would take me to the doctor himself.

Although I thought the cough was on its way out, the sore throat seemed to be getting worse, so last night I got on-line and Googled my symptoms: sore throat on one side, difficulty swallowing. I was looking for a home remedy and knew there had to be something I could do besides eating orange ice lollies (or popsicles, if you live in America), which was the only thing that seemed to ease the pain, and that only temporarily.

The first site that I clicked had posted endless testimonials about the wonders of apple cider vinegar. Since I had a bottle on the counter, next to the olive oil beside the stove, I tried one of the recommended recipes: 2 Tbs. honey, 2 Tbs. apple cider vinegar, 1/2 glass water, 1/2 glass orange juice.

It burned going down, but in a good way. I went to bed with high hopes. Woke up this morning and my throat was still sore. Still very inflamed, as in it hurt to swallow my vitamins. Made another dose of the concoction. Again it burned a bit, but not so much that I was worried or thought I'd made a horrible mistake.

The pain in my throat had been setting in by 4:00 each day, increasing until bedtime and not subsiding until about 9:00 the next morning, but around 5:30 this afternoon, I realized that it hadn't come back. My sore throat was gone! I drank another dose tonight just to be sure, but really -- I can now swallow, easily and without pain, for the first time in a long time. And the cough is gone, too! Who knew the healing properties of apple cider vinegar? In my generation, I mean.

Ahhh. Now I'm going to bed for my favorite home remedy of all: a good night's sleep.

Mother's Day Afternoon

2008-05-16T10:12:00.001Z

Better late than never, right?

Mother's Day Morning

2008-05-11T14:21:00.005Z

I've been getting up early again, trying to avoid the creaky places in the stairs and sneak down to the kitchen without waking anyone else. The days are so lovely now, sunny and warm, and I hate to miss a minute of this gorgeous weather. With a cup of tea in hand, I wander around our tiny back garden to examine yesterday's growth, admire emerging life and soak in the serenity of birdsong floating above the sea of brick houses that is our neighborhood. I really thrive on having a bit of quiet -- time and space all to myself -- in the mornings. The rest of my day goes immensely better when it starts off with early solitude.

Jack got a watch for his birthday. He knows what 6:30 looks like, and he knows to stay in his room until that time, when Thomas the Tank Engine comes on Nick Jr. This morning he was downstairs by 6:10.

"Can I snuggle with you, Mommy?"

I said I would snuggle with him at 6:30 and sent him back to his room. After touring the garden, just as I was going to make another cup of tea and sit down at the patio table with The Daily Light, Jack came back down. I really thought he would follow his usual morning routine of heading to the couch, turning on the tv and calling for a cup of milk, but he came right outside and climbed into my lap. In addition to being funny, smart and extremely headstrong, Jack is truly the sweetest, lovingest boy. We snuggled together for a few minutes, talking about how big he is now (five!) and how much the garden is growing. I said I was going inside to make a cup of tea.

"Bring a cup of tea for me, too, Mommy..." I heard him say as I walked inside.

And then, just as I said okay, he added, "...please."

A mixture of pride and relief flooded me in that moment. Maybe all my repetitive prompting is actually taking effect? In recent American Express ads, Tina Fey says her proudest accomplishment is that her daughter says "please" and "thank you". I can totally relate.

* * * * * * *
Yesterday afternoon Matt and Jack went to Sainsbury's while I was getting supper ready. I heard the car pull into the driveway, and then the doorbell rang. When I opened the door, Jack held out an armful of gorgeous yellow roses.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Mommy," he said. "These flowers are from Kenya."

Matt said Jack picked them out all by himself. He looked and looked at everything on display before settling on these. Then Matt saw the label on the plastic sleeve: Fairtrade. Grown in Kenya.

My heart melted, and tears leaked out of my eyes. Nevermind about the confusion in holidays. Lots of love, expressed in cards and flowers -- I'll take it by any name.

The Brits celebrate Mother's Day in March. I think the timing is on purpose, to give women a much-needed emotional boost before spring has fully sprung, but it means Mother's Day cards aren't available here in May. That's okay, too, actually, because then I get original, handwritten messages. Matt coached Jack to correctly spell the words in his cute-on-the-outside, blank-inside-for-your-own-message card, but this morning Jack wrote another, spontaneous version on a card he made himself: I lve yoo ssssssssssssssss much love Jack to mom

I used to stay up late grading essays, circling in red my students' mistakes in spelling and punctuation, pointing out errors in their literary analysis. But my perspective and priorities have changed in this season of life. This boy, this amazing and marvelous creature who initiated me into motherhood, gets an A+ from me.

* * * * *
Sophie gave me a gift this morning, too. Well, two actually. First of all, she slept until 8:00! After an hour on my own and 90 glorious minutes with just Jack, I was beginning to wonder where she was when I turned to see her little tousled self peeking at me out the patio door. (I may need to get up early to start my day off right, but Sophie is sweeter after an extra bit of morning sleep.)

Her second gift to me was that I got to sit in church for the morning's sermon. Finally! After four months of panic-stricken clinginess as soon as we'd walk through the door of the Tweenies Sunday School classroom, last week she suddenly stopped crying and sat down in her chair for songs and a story, nice as you please. Another little girl was crying that morning, and maybe Sophie decided she didn't have to play that role anymore? I don't know. Anyway, this morning she was good as gold. I think we've turned a corner, Oh Happy Day!

* * * * * * *
Among Matt's contributions to Mother's Day this year, in addition to orchestrating the giving of flowers and cards, was tidying up the house while I was at the gym yesterday afternoon and washing the dishes after supper last night. And not saying anything this morning after waiting 15 minutes for me to get into the car for church.

At one point before breakfast, Jack came into the kitchen waving a sheet of stickers. "Which one of these sea creatures would you like, Mommy, for taking such good care of me and Sophie?" he asked.

My immediate reply: The octopus, because I could do with six more arms.

Actually, though, I can't complain. I've got it pretty easy. I'm blessed to have a husband who is actively involved in our family, who has great insight into how to motivate Jack when he's going through a particularly stubborn streak, who is tender and attentive with Sophie, who keeps us all laughing and who often helps me with the more mundane tasks of housekeeping. The list is long, but I'll stop there. Let's just say that, in so many ways, it's Matt who helps me keep my focus in this journey of motherhood.

He's also been encouraging Jack to pray at mealtimes. The four of us hold hands and bow our heads to give thanks, and many times Matt has asked Jack if he would like to do the praying. For months now, Jack has declined. Until this morning at breakfast.

Matt: Jack, would you like to pray and thank God for Mommy?

Jack: Yes... (then, leaning over and whispering to Matt) But I don't know what to say.

So Matt whispered to him and Jack repeated his words with clarity and confidence, and there I was in tears again, caught up in the beauty of listening to Jack's first public prayer, in the wonder of being the mother in this little family, in the joyful capsule of this morning. To everyone else in the UK, it's just another Sunday, but I'm surrounded by a wealth of reasons to celebrate. I want to remember this morning forever.

The Poverty and Justice Bible

2008-05-07T12:34:00.005Z

Since I was finally well enough to be back at church last Sunday, between greeting folks like a long-lost friend and trying to keep an eye on Jack and Sophie as they zig-zagged around people's legs in the crowded foyer, I happened to glance down at a table of literature.

The cover story of magazine called Word in Action, put out by the Bible Society here in England, caught my eye. Together with World Vision, they've just published The Poverty and Justice Bible which highlights verses about God's passionate concern for the poor and oppressed. Included in the Bible is a 32-page study guide encouraging not just an "Aha!" realization but action.

According to The Poverty and Justice Bible website:

It was US pastor and writer Rick Warren who laid the foundations for The Poverty and Justice Bible. He'd discovered that there were 2,000 verses on poverty -- and couldn't believe he'd never noticed before.

U2 frontman Bono, in his talk to the National Prayer Breakfast in Washington DC in November 2006, pointed out that the only time Christ is judgmental is on the subject of the poor. He also referred to the 2,000+ mentions of poverty in the Bible, saying, "That's a lot of airtime!"

It took a team of Bible Society researchers poring over the Contemporary English Version to identify every verse that's specific about God's take on social injustice. These range from Old Testament prophecies to Jesus' radical teachings. Just about every page has some emphasis on justice and fairness.

It's on the global agenda for politicians, activists and opinion formers. But fighting poverty and tackling injustice is no new concept for the 21st century. This Bible is proof that, on issues of social justice, God has plenty to say.

When it comes to poverty and justice, God got there first.

I'm not sure if this Bible is available yet outside the UK, but since many of us believers are becoming more aware, concerned and outspoken about justice issues worldwide, I wanted to pass the Word.

* * *
Updated to add: I just found this order form on Bibles.org, a ministry of the American Bible Society.

How Can I Complain About the Weather When I'm Surrounded By Sunshine All Day Long?

2008-05-06T12:20:00.006Z

Exploring the Flavors (Flavours?) of Britain

2008-05-06T12:06:00.005Z

Grateful as I am to be American, I really do enjoy living outside America. My favorite books are about women from other cultures. Developing international friendships is among my Top 10 definitions of Pure Joy. I love listening to the cadence of foreign languages spoken in conversation and the sounds of music from various regions of the world. Even my political perspective has been shaped by my experiences of living for an extended time as a minority in countries other than my own.

And, of course, there’s the food. Mmm-mmm-mmm. Spicy or sweet flavors, cooked by complex or simple methods, eaten with my hands, a spoon or chopsticks -- I adore ethnic food. Each time I’ve moved to a new place, I’ve thoroughly enjoyed exploring the supermarket and learning how to make local recipes using local ingredients. It’s fun to make now-familiar recipes, given by friends in previous places, using now-local substitutes.

Decades before we moved to England, possibly in fact my whole life, I've been wholeheartedly devoted to the glories of tea. Thanks to the Scottish ladies in our church growing up, I’ve been a longtime fan of shortbread biscuits (cookies) and scones. And having been influenced by a college roommate who spent a summer in London, for the past 20 years I’ve been eating Continental style, with fork in my left hand and knife in my right.

Since coming here nearly two years ago, I’ve discovered that eating beans with a breakfast including eggs, bacon and toast is, as Jack would say, really yum. Not to be confused with the frozen pot pies of my childhood, savory pies -- beef, chicken or fish -- have become my favorite pub lunch, especially on a cold, drizzly day. And Matt and I have both fallen in love with roast potatoes -- served alongside roast beef, chicken or lamb -- when we’ve been invited round to friends’ houses for Sunday lunch.

All of these food faves are within the realm of the expected, but my newest British taste sensation is one I never thought I’d acquire: Weetabix! There’s no way I could make it sound remotely delectable because it’s just a flaky version of shredded wheat, simply wheat in cereal form. No sugar, no cinnamon -- absolutely nothing to jazz it up.

I’m not sure I want to know what this means. Am I getting more entrenched in the culture here than I realized? Have I learned to appreciate even the bland side of flavor? Have my weather-related moods gotten the better of me? Or am I just getting old?

Not that it’s all that worth writing or reading about, but since much of my day involves planning, buying, preparing and serving food for our little family, it was on my mind.

Will You Indulge Me Yet Another Post About the Weather?

2008-04-27T20:02:00.012Z

(We’re all feeling much better now, I’m happy to say. It feels so good to feel good again, to get up in the morning and be productive again.)

Yesterday we had the most glorious weather. It was the first time this year we’ve all been outside in fewer than two layers. Not only was it sunny and a balmy 70 degrees, it was Saturday. A warm, sunny Saturday and all of us were healthy! So after breakfast we got dressed, packed a quick lunch and set out for some woods we’ve been hearing about.

I love the woods. I do; I do; I really, really do. I don’t know if I can adequately describe the tranquil feeling that comes over me when I’m walking through woods, but it’s like suddenly everything is right in the world. I’ve had a lot on my mind in these first months of 2008, but stepping into the woods yesterday -- watching a tiny stream trickle down a crease in the ground, listening to the gentle birdsong floating through the tops of tree branches just starting to turn green again, smelling the freshness of new life emerging from between last year’s fallen leaves and from within no-longer dormant branches -- I felt all my weighty concerns being lifted and carried away by the soft, warm breeze.

When I was growing up, between the ages of four and nineteen, our family lived in a house on the edge of a subdivision that backed up to some woods. I realize now what an incredible gift that was, to have nature so close at hand in a town where man-made things like bricks, cement, tarmac and steel covered most of the ground’s surface and where nearly everyone’s dad worked for the auto industry in one capacity or another.

My sister and I played in the woods nearly every day all summer long -- climbing trees, building forts and crossing the creek back and forth, balancing ourselves on rocks that peeked above the current and trying to keep our feet from slipping in. That was back in the day when we could disappear out of the gate in our backyard for hours and hours at a time, and Mom didn’t have to worry. And when -- without parental supervision, a first-aid course or a safety net -- we kids would climb 20 feet up a tree, hoisting ourselves up over steps made from bits of two-by-four that had been nailed there at some point by someone’s big brother, gaining confidence and independence with each rung until finally, reaching the remnants of a tree house, we'd sit there and look d-o-w-n at the world as we’d always known it and realize: Aha! there are more dimensions to life than we’d thought.

Now that I’m -- I was going to say too old for tree climbing, but I think I’d rather say I’m just 30 years out of practice -- one of my favorite, most relaxing things to do is lie down underneath a tree and look up at the branches waving above. In our back garden here we have an anemic, old apple tree that produces four or five sorry little apples each fall. I haven’t wanted to cut it down, though, because of this very thing. As much as I love summertime for sitting out on the patio -- for lunch with the kids, tea with friends or just to unwind after the day -- if I want to chill all the way out I lie beneath that crazy, gnarled apple tree and gaze up at the beauty in the movement of its branches.

Yesterday, wandering through the woods -- a National Nature Reserve, no less -- felt so lovely, so luxurious, even. After far too many months of being cooped up inside while it was cold, wet and gray outside, this weekend's weather was -- quite literally -- a breath of fresh air. And since the forecast for the next ten days is lots and lots of rain, it couldn't have come at a better time.

I just keep reminding myself: There's another dimension to this life, and whether I recognize it now or years down the road, one day I'll have a better appreciation for how "all things work together".

* * * * * * *
And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose. Romans 8:28 (NKJV)

Sick and Tired of Being Sick and Tired

2008-04-23T12:05:00.003Z

After weeks and weeks and weeks of one or more of us being sick with coughs, colds, stomach bugs, sore throats, sinus infections and even mother-daughter conjunctivitis, I think we're finally coming out the other side. And I do mean finally! It's not serious in the way that cancer is serious, but our little family has never gone through anything like this before. It makes me all the more grateful for the excellent health we normally enjoy.

It also makes me immensely grateful for the "little things" I normally take for granted but really do help all of us feel better when we're sick. My big five: a hot bath/shower, pain relievers, eucalyptus oil, Breathe Right strips and tissues with balsam. Millions of women and children around the world don't have access to any of those things...

Now that I'm getting a little more sleep at night and starting to get my energy back in the daytime, I hope to get back on-line, too.

To the Kind Souls at Carnaby Burger Co.

2008-04-13T18:56:00.006Z

Who warmly welcomed our family in from yesterday's rain and found a table for us immediately, although we had no reservations and the restaurant was otherwise packed...

Who acted like it was no big deal to store Sophie's stroller and Jack's scooter beside the bar in this swanky yet reasonably (for London!) priced establishment...

Who brought our yummy food within ten minutes of ordering, while customers at tables around us continued to wait for theirs...

Who smiled and waved bye-bye to Sophie, as she walked, wandered and waved to everyone along the aisle on our way to the front door...

Who remembered me when I showed up an hour later to claim Jack's forgotten scooter, having realized the mistake and turned back at Baker Street station, and had it waiting for me at the seating host's stand...

Who made our time downtown all the more enjoyable by such (culturally atypical) service-with-a-smile...

All blessings on you!

Mother-of-Two Meets Modern Technology

2008-04-01T17:49:00.008Z

Today I joined the gym and "had a go" (as they say here) at the elliptical machine. I’ve heard about elliptical machines. I’ve seen people using them on tv and in the movies. But I’ve never used one myself. My previous gym experience was pretty basic -- three treadmills, a few machines, a coffee bar. I'm not complaining because I loved going to that gym. It had everything I needed (except air conditioning! in Cyprus!), and I was content. But here in England the gym is state-of-the-art -- high-tech with loads of machines upstairs and rows of treadmills, stationary bikes and elliptical trainers downstairs.

As you may well know, I am not high-tech. Don't get me wrong, I'm not exactly no-tech: I rely on e-mail and the internet for most of my communication and information, I've learned how to send text messages from my mobile phone and I can use our Tom-Tom sat nav to drive to any destination in this, The Country of No Straight Roads. But I still bake from scratch, I keep a simple schedule and I rarely turn on the tv, except to watch movies.

(In the winter of 2000, when Matt and I were first married and he was taking graduate photography classes at Ohio University, I worked for the local temp agency. We were so broke that I accepted the first job they offered, even though it required me to use the internet and I’d never been on-line before. I had a steep learning curve that week! It was a key part of my re-adjustment to living in the States after being in Kenya for six years.)

So today I wanted to get on an elliptical machine and see if I could move a step or two away from feeling like a Frumpy Mum to feeling... I don't know, somewhat cool (and fit) and not quite so behind-the-times as I usually am.

I might have pulled it off, too (if only in my own mind), except that about halfway through the workout program I'd chosen on the elliptical's computer, Matt came by to see how I was doing and pointed out (ever so gently) that my stride was pushing the pedals backwards. Ooops. No matter how fit and cool I may ever/never become, I guess I shouldn't overlook the general health benefits of humility.

The Difference A Week Makes

2008-03-30T21:18:00.011Z

Last Sunday we woke up to falling snow. (Because that's what happens when we celebrate Easter in March.) Unfortunately, it didn't accumulate beyond the initial dusting, so there were no snow people or even snow angels this year -- the kids were soooo very excited and then soooo very disappointed -- but it did make for some darn fun frolicking outside before getting dressed for church.

This weekend we turned our clocks ahead. Besides the temperature being much warmer than it has been (so much so that I went barefoot in the house for the first time since I Can't Remember When), just having an extra hour of daylight this evening has made me feel like a new woman already. Well, that and the fact that I'm finally joining the gym here. (It took me four months after Jack was born to get into the gym in Cyprus, but Sophie turned two years old in February. It's, umm, about time.) Okay, that and the emergency pedicure I gave myself after the shock of seeing my neglected, winterized toenails in the glow of the late afternoon sun.

In more ways than one, I feel like I'm coming out of hibernation.

Both (the Movie and the Memory)

2008-03-28T14:22:00.013Z

Great news for fellow fans of Alexander McCall Smith's No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency series, at least if you read this post before Saturday. For two more days, the movie version is on BBC iPlayer! (I missed it on BBC One this past Sunday night but found out yesterday that it's available on-line for seven days after airing.)

This gorgeous adaptation of the book was filmed on location in Botswana and directed by Anthony Minghella (The English Patient, Cold Mountain). Minghella died of a hemmorage following surgery just last week. This was his last film, and it is truly beautiful. (Perfect, according to McCall Smith himself.) More good news, according to this tribute by producer Amy J. Moore on screenafrica.com, is a continuing 13-episode series being filmed later this year, thanks to the BBC and HBO. Woo-hoo!

This afternoon, watching the No. 1 Ladies movie on my computer with the curtains drawn against the pouring rain, felt very much like certain afternoons at Kijabe when RVA student/staff friends would gather at my place for hot beverages, some form of chocolate and a movie -- afternoons made all the more enjoyable by being together and blocking out the rest of the world for a few hours. Back then, our escape was out of Africa. Today, I was transported back to it. And when the movie was over, the sun was shining -- even here in England, a world away.

I highly recommend it!

Shopping? Ethically?

2008-03-25T13:20:00.010Z

Last May, I wrote a post called Another Wal-Mart Customer Bites the Dust. I didn’t go into details, but I did give the link to the documentary Wal-Mart: The High Cost of Low Price we had just watched, and I declared my intention to never, ever shop at Wal-Mart again. We’ve been back in the States just once since then, over the Christmas holidays, and although it meant going without certain items and paying more for others, I’m proud to say I stuck by my resolution.

For those of you who are interested, especially if you live in the States and shop at Wal-Mart regularly, The Wal-Mart You Don’t Know is an article on FastCompany.com (from December 2003 -- how much further down the scale have things slid in the five years since then?) that goes into details from the suppliers' perspective. (The Wal-Mart movie gives the employees' and local competitors' perspective.)

Thanks to Lissa at Here In The Bonny Glen for posting the link to the FastCompany.com article. Here are a few excerpts:

Wal-Mart is not just the world's largest retailer. It's the world's largest company -- bigger than ExxonMobil, General Motors, and General Electric. The scale can be hard to absorb. Wal-Mart sold $244.5 billion worth of goods last year. It sells in three months what number-two retailer Home Depot sells in a year. And in its own category of general merchandise and groceries, Wal-Mart no longer has any real rivals. It does more business than Target, Sears, Kmart, J.C. Penney, Safeway, and Kroger combined. "Clearly," says Edward Fox, head of Southern Methodist University's J.C. Penney Center for Retailing Excellence, "Wal-Mart is more powerful than any retailer has ever been." It is, in fact, so big and so furtively powerful as to have become an entirely different order of corporate being.

Wal-Mart wields its power for just one purpose: to bring the lowest possible prices to its customers. At Wal-Mart, that goal is never reached. The retailer has a clear policy for suppliers: On basic products that don't change, the price Wal-Mart will pay, and will charge shoppers, must drop year after year. But what almost no one outside the world of Wal-Mart and its 21,000 suppliers knows is the high cost of those low prices. Wal-Mart has the power to squeeze profit-killing concessions from vendors. To survive in the face of its pricing demands, makers of everything from bras to bicycles to blue jeans have had to lay off employees and close U.S. plants in favor of outsourcing products from overseas.

Wal-Mart, which in the late 1980s and early 1990s trumpeted its claim to "Buy American," has doubled its imports from China in the past five years alone, buying some $12 billion in merchandise in 2002. That's nearly 10% of all Chinese exports to the United States…

Steve Dobbins has been bearing the brunt of that switch. He's president and CEO of Carolina Mills, a 75-year-old North Carolina company that supplies thread, yarn, and textile finishing to apparel makers -- half of which supply Wal-Mart. Carolina Mills grew steadily until 2000. But in the past three years, as its customers have gone either overseas or out of business, it has shrunk from 17 factories to 7, and from 2,600 employees to 1,200. Dobbins's customers have begun to face imported clothing sold so cheaply to Wal-Mart that they could not compete even if they paid their workers nothing.

"People ask, 'How can it be bad for things to come into the U.S. cheaply? How can it be bad to have a bargain at Wal-Mart?' Sure, it's held inflation down, and it's great to have bargains," says Dobbins. "But you can't buy anything if you're not employed. We are shopping ourselves out of jobs."

... "Year after year," Carey, a partner at Bain & Co. (the global management consulting firm), says, "for any product that is the same as what you sold them last year, Wal-Mart will say, 'Here's the price you gave me last year. Here's what I can get a competitor's product for. Here's what I can get a private-label version for. I want to see a better value that I can bring to my shopper this year. Or else I'm going to use that shelf space differently.' "

Carey has a friend in the umbrella business who learned that. One year, because of costs, he went to Wal-Mart and asked for a 5% price increase. "Wal-Mart said, 'We were expecting a 5% decrease. We're off by 10%. Go back and sharpen your pencil.' " The umbrella man scrimped and came back with a 2% increase. "They said, 'We'll go with a Chinese manufacturer' -- and he was out entirely."

… Wal-Mart has also lulled shoppers into ignoring the difference between the price of something and the cost. Its unending focus on price underscores something that Americans are only starting to realize about globalization: Ever-cheaper prices have consequences. Says Steve Dobbins, president of thread maker Carolina Mills: "We want clean air, clear water, good living conditions, the best health care in the world -- yet we aren't willing to pay for anything manufactured under those restrictions."

Good Friday

2008-03-21T23:20:00.007Z

Amazing service at church today. The pastor opened with these beautiful reminders of Truth:

For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life. (John 3:16)

God demonstrates His own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us. (Romans 5:8)

That's good news for everyone, the kind that puts the good in Good Friday. Each hymn, each prayer seemed exactly what I needed this morning, but this song stayed with me all day:

I have placed all my hope in a crucified man
In the wounds in his side, his feet and his hands
I have traded my pride for a share in his shame
And the glory that one day will burst from his pain

I’ve abandoned my trust in the wise and the proud
For this fragile, mysterious weakness of God
And I dare to believe in his scandalous claim
That his blood cleanses sin for who ever
Will call on his name
Live or die here I stand
I’ve placed my hope in a crucified man

I believe as they beat on his beautiful face
He turned a torturer’s chair to an altar of grace
Where the worst we can do met the best that God does
Where unspeakable hate met the gaze
Of unstoppable love
At the crux of it all there he hangs
I’ve placed my hope in a crucified….

Man of sorrows, man of grief
Will he stay beyond belief?

When the purest and best took the force of our curse
Death’s victory armada juddered into reverse…
And either we bow or we stumble and fall
For the wisdom of a suffering God
Has made fools of us all
I gladly admit that I am
But I’ve placed my hope in a crucified …

Man of sorrows, man of grief
Will he stay beyond belief?

I have buried my life in the cold earth with him
Like a seed in the winter, I wait for the spring
From that garden of tombs Eden rises again
And Paradise blooms from his body
And never will end
He’ll finish all he began
Creation hopes in a crucified man

When I stand at the judgement
I have no other plan
I’ve placed my hope in a crucified man

Like the thief nailed beside him
I have no other plan
I’ve placed my hope in a crucified man

(Words and music by Graham Kendrick)

What's the Sign for "Wouldn't Hurt... Might Even Help" ?

2008-03-20T15:00:00.011Z

Ever since Jack was a baby, he's loved watching television: Baby Einstein, Sesame Steet, Thomas the Tank Engine and sports of any kind. For her first two years, Sophie could take tv or leave it -- but no more! Her new love and daily request: Signing Time. *There's singing time and dancing time and laughing time and playing time, and now it is our favorite time -- Signing Time!*

I've been thinking a lot lately about what society is going to look like when my kids are young adults. Funny, how American parents of our generation (and socio-economic demographic? maybe) are sooooo into providing broad-exposure for our kids in terms of educational experiences during their early years. Wouldn't it be nice if we extended that to include varied cultural experiences (leading up to and including the teen years) as well?

Read-Only

2008-03-18T17:46:00.008Z

I've been reading some great stuff on other blogs these last few weeks but haven't been able to summon the emotional energy to write honestly about the things whirling around in my mind and weighing on my heart. So, like the kid who realizes he can't win a race and quits before he has a chance to finish, I haven't written at all. To use a different analogy, sitting down at the computer has felt kind of like looking at one of those documents where you have the ability to read the text but can't add to or alter it in any way.

I do intend to get back into the swing of things, so I'm going to write a little something every day or so for the next little while, even if it's not heart-level and doesn't require the time/space I usually need in order to write coherently. But in the meantime, I want to share the links to specific posts on other blogs that have encouraged and challenged me during this time:

My friend Lissa at Here in the Bonny Glenn is an author, mother of five and unschooler extraordinaire. In this post, among other things, she talks about two of the aspects of parenting that I find most challenging: exercising the right kind of patience and dealing with the need/desire to be in control. (Edited to add: There's an intriguing, extended conversation going on in the comments.)

Months and months ago, through Lissa's blog, I came across Testosterhome, a mother's blog about life with five sons. I've never met Rachel, and to be honest I don't think I've ever left so much as a comment on her blog, but hers is one I check regularly. She expresses herself effortlessly, it seems, and often she writes things I've thought and felt but can't find the words for myself. I love this post about coming to terms with finding satisfaction in some of those less-than-glamorous tasks that mothering involves.

Ever since I wrote about watching the CNN special called God's Warriors, I've been hooked on the Random Reflections of Greg Boyd. I'm in the middle of his book called The Myth of a Christian Nation, and what I've read so far is hitting home scripturally, philosophically and politically, in that order. I'm going through it slowly, with a highlighter in hand -- I'm finding it that profound. Recent posts on his blog that have been particularly challenging for me (since recognizing this summer my deep-felt belief in pacifism) are his series on why he's a vegetarian and the current one, reconciling the violence of God in the OT with the self-sacrifice of Jesus in the NT. (I don't think I've ever heard anyone deal quite so honestly with this topic, and it's going to be interesting to find out where he's going with this. These links are to the first post in each series, but hopefully -- if you're interested -- you can find the remaining posts from there.)

On a less provocative note, here's Lopez Living, the blog a friend we knew in Cyprus. She and her husband now live in the Arabian Peninsula. This post beautifully describes the potential impact that American women can have on international women without ever leaving home. (I couldn't agree more.)

Happy reading! I'll try to write again soon.

Fortunately For Me, My Addictions Are Few

2008-03-04T09:49:00.010Z

After a trip Matt comes home with a full flashcard, a suitcase of clothes to be washed and sometimes, depending on the country, a stomach bug. He always tries to bring a small souvenir for Jack and Sophie, and he does a great job of finding lovely things for me. This time he was in Thailand, and in addition to several gorgeous gifts from the night market, he also came home with the first three seasons of The Office! So now, once the kids are asleep each night, I'm trying really hard to only watch a few episodes at a time...

Signs of Hope

2008-03-02T21:48:00.012Z

Whew! It looks like the political rivals in Kenya are going to work together after all. What a relief. What an answer to prayer! It took more than five weeks to agree and merely a few moments for them to sign the deal brokered by Kofi Annan, but it will take much, much longer for the country to heal.

Kenya and her people have a steep road ahead. Dealing with the logistics of lost lives, destroyed property and vanished incomes. Dealing with the needs of 600,000 people displaced from their homes -- refugees in their own country. Dealing with memories of violence and the fear and/or (for those who participated in the chaos) shame that remains. Forging a new path in self-governance, incorporating the needs and views of all the people. Facing the issues of land rights. Rebuilding a damaged economy. Forgiving horrible, horrible wrongs and moving on in peace, justice and hope. This is an opportunity for real soul searching.

Please continue to pray that Kenya's leaders will seek to serve the people rather than lording power over them and that the citizens of Kenya, many of whom are believers in Christ, will live out the miracle of God's grace and forgiveness especially during this critical time in their country's history.

In other news -- much less urgent but still uplifting -- it looks like spring is on its way to England. The sun is coming up a bit earlier each morning, which makes waking up feel much more natural if you know what I mean. This week our neighbor's cherry tree burst into pink. Our daffodils have bloomed in the front garden. Buds are forming on various trees and bushes in our back garden, and the forsythia my Mom gave me for Christmas the year we moved here has begun to bloom as well. I think I'll be wearing camisoles and knee socks for a long while yet, but warmer weather is at last on it's way.

Thank God!

Downtown with Jack

2008-02-25T19:58:00.029Z

Today was so much fun that I just can't keep it to myself.

But first, can I just say that five years has never gone by so fast! When Jack was born in Cyprus, we applied for his passport as soon as we could get a picture of him with his eyes open. Valid for five years, they said, which sounded like a long time to me back then, but May will be here before we know it -- and this year my first angel-baby will be five. FIVE!

Today was our appointment at the American Embassy to renew his passport. Friends-like-family from church graciously agreed to keep Sophie so I could take Jack downtown on my own, and oh my goodness, we had a blast.

As I've said before, one of my many favorite things about living here is that walking and taking public transportation are a normal part of everyday life. Our journey started at the Tube station near our friends' house.
I didn't get a picture of Jack on the train itself, but on our way downtown I surprised him with the news that first we were going to the Natural History Museum! To see the Dinosaurs!

After getting off the train, we walked through a sub-way (a tunnel-like walkway underneath an insanely busy intersection) to get to the museum.
One very excited boy at one very beautiful museum.
One very in-awe Mommy. (I love Romanesque architecture.)
And one very scary T-Rex.
Who made loud, scary noises.
Still Jack's favorite, though.
We also managed to see a few favorite mammals.
It was a quick visit but well worth it.
Also, going there first meant we got to see more of the city together.
And it gave us a chance to do what Jack has been begging to do for months and months (but what is impossible when traveling with a baby in a stroller, as we most always do): Ride on the top of a double-decker bus. We even had front row seats!
Dream. Come. True!
Before lunch: a little loopy.
After lunch: happy-happy-happy.
After successfully processing his passport renewal at the embassy:
"Can we go home now?"
On the train ride home: pooped.

From start to finish, the day was perfectly splendid. I really loved going on an adventure with my little man. And Sophie was over the moon to have a day with our friends. Sweet Marie even had supper waiting for us when we arrived back at her house!

The kids are both asleep in their beds now, and to tell you the truth I'm heading that way myself soon. Seriously, is there anything as wonderful as a day that works out exactly as you had hoped and planned? Maybe just this: I asked Jack what his favorite part of the whole day was, and of course it was riding on the top of that double-decker bus. (Ah, the joys of boyhood!) Mine was heading home on a packed train, smiling down at my son's upturned face and hearing him say, "I love you, Mommy."

(Yes, yes, I realize that all my vertical pictures posted horizontally. My big man and photographer/computer guru is away this week, and I've spent the better part of an hour trying to figure out what's wrong, but alas! It will have to wait until Matt gets back.)

As a Matter of Fact, We Did

2008-02-16T19:17:00.005Z

Bedtime reading tonight included We All Went On Safari by Laurie Krebs and Julie Cairns.

Pointing above Tanzania on the map in the back of the book, Jack said, "Look, Mommy, that's Kenya up there. That's where some of our friends live."

Just as I was agreeing with him, he added, "And that's where you and Daddy met yourselves."

Even If You Don't Understand Swahili

2008-02-15T22:57:00.010Z

The message in this music video, featuring dozens of Kenyan artists and pastors, comes across loud and clear:

Wakenya Pamoja (Kenyans Together).

Where, O Where, Has My Baby Girl Gone?

2008-02-15T22:27:00.010Z

Hoo-boy, it's official. Sophie turned two this week. I can't believe it! All of a sudden she seems really grown-up to me. Maybe it's the way she insists on having her own cup and saucer (instead of just drinking from her sippy cup) when we meet friends at the Café.

Or maybe it's other displays of her big-girl personality bursting forth:

Either way, I'm completely smitten.

Today, Global Warming Is My Friend

2008-02-12T22:13:00.002Z

I had almost forgotten how good feels to sit outside and soak up sunshine! We've had four gorgeous, warm, sunny days in a row -- it's February in England, people -- so this afternoon while Sophie napped I took my laptop outside to write an e-mail that was long overdue. A cup of tea and a box of tissues at my side, with daffodils and crocuses in bloom and tiny bits of life sprouting up all across our little back garden, it was Mmm-mmm good.

So Much for New Year's Resolutions

2008-02-11T21:24:00.002Z

So far, my intention to blog more in 2008 about our family's daily goings-on has gone Phhhhhhtt! like a deflating balloon. It's a combination of things, really, but to be honest I've been emotionally caught up in this Kenya crisis, and beyond managing our family's daily goings-on I haven't had much energy -- emotional or otherwise -- for writing.

I suppose maybe just writing that much would have been better than nothing these past few weeks. Sorry about that.

Fortunately for me, I have friends who can not only write brilliantly but also offer great insight about the situation in Kenya. Globetrotter Sue lives in Nairobi and has quite a gift for putting words to what's happening there. Amazing pictures and videos, too! And check out Konings in Kenya, especially this post about ways they're involved in helping families displaced by the violence.

Please continue to pray for justice and peace in Kenya. And if you're inclined to do more to help Kenyans, please consider giving through Africa Inland Mission (AIM), the organization the Konings serve with (and that I was blessed to serve with during my years there).

AIM has established a Kenya Crisis Fund in response to the humanitarian crisis brought about by Kenya’s post-election violence. It is estimated that over 250,000 Kenyans were displaced, and 1,000 men, women and children lost their lives. Africa Inland Mission and the Africa Inland Church, their partner church in Kenya, have already begun responding to the incredible needs around them and will continue to do so in the days, weeks and months ahead.

On a much lesser note of importance, thanks to all of you who keep checking this blog. I hope to get back in the groove soon. The year is still young.

Elijah Update (February 6)

2008-02-06T18:08:00.000Z

Homesick

2008-01-26T22:10:00.001Z

A friend just sent me this great link to a video about Rift Valley Academy in Kenya. Watch it, and you'll see why I loved my years there so much. RVA students are described in amazingly glowing terms on the video, and I want to echo the sentiment and say they most definitely are All That.

My first year at RVA was 1992. Just a few years before, Scott Wesley Brown came out with a song called Please Don't Send Me to Africa, a parody of someone "trying" to live for God but afraid of where His will might lead. In this person's mind, the worst-case scenario was being sent to Africa. Talking with churches and women's groups as part of the support-raising process, I remember people's eyes filling with a mixture of surprise and disbelief when I told them my prayer was the opposite: LORD, PLEASE SEND ME TO AFRICA!

If I had more time tonight, I'd explore this strange belief that God is out to make His children miserable by going far, far away to do hard, hard things they won't enjoy. Truth be told, the entire time I lived in Kenya I was overwhelmingly grateful to be there. Teaching and loving the students at RVA was one of the great joys of my life! Living in Kenya was icing on the cake. I grew up in America, but I grew deep in Africa. I wouldn't trade those wonderful years for anything.

Funny, isn't it, how music comes back to you and instantly transports you to another time and place. The music toward the beginning of this video is the tune to Kenya's national anthem which RVA's entire student body sings while gathered to raise the Kenyan flag on Friday mornings. It's as much a part of my heart as the Star Spangled Banner, and even better it's a gorgeous prayer:

(Swahili)
Ee Mungu nguvu yetu
Ilete baraka kwetu
Haki iwe ngao na mlinzi
Natukae na udugu
Amani na uhuru
Raha tupate na ustawi.

(English)
Oh God of all creation
Bless this, our land and nation
Justice be our shield and defender
May we dwell in unity, peace and liberty
Plenty be found within our borders.

Oh Lord, dear Lord, let it be.

Day of Prayer for Kenya

2008-01-25T10:01:00.000Z

If My people, who are called by My name, will humble themselves and pray and seek My face and turn from their wicked ways, then will I hear from heaven and will forgive their sin and will heal their land. (2 Chronicles 7:14)

On January 25th 2008, we are asking every Kenyan and every friend of Kenyans, everywhere, to take time to make a concerted prayer for Kenya.

We want EVERY Kenyan and EVERY friend of Kenyans in EVERY continent on the face of the earth to be praying together on this one day on behalf of our country.

How to participate:
* Spread the word: send this message to every Kenyan and every friend of Kenyans you know, everywhere -- text, SMS, e-mail, phone call, blog, etc.
* On January 25th, make a point of setting aside time to pray for Kenya. It doesn’t have to be a long time, but it must be a deliberate effort to pray for specific things about Kenya.
* You can pray individually, or get together with friends, workmates, someone on the street, your priest, pastor, congregation, youth group, etc.

What to pray for:
* AMANI, AMANI, AMANI. PEACE, PEACE, PEACE.
* Whatever else you feel in your heart to pray concerning Kenya.

Lord, make me an instrument of Thy peace;
where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
and where there is sadness, joy.
O Divine Master,
grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;
to be understood, as to understand;
to be loved, as to love;
for it is in giving that we receive,
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.
Amen.
(St. Francis of Assisi, 13th century)

Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous man is powerful and effective. (James 5:16)