The Power of a Female Pack

I am not saying that I need a lot of girlfriends to survive. I am just saying that there are reasons women travel in packs to the restroom, there are motivations for why we call each other for a brief 90-minute chat about our feelings and dreams, there's a primal urge we feel to connect when life deals another blow.

We may not need each other, technically, to survive. But without positive female interaction, we wither like a geranium in the high desert. Our energy wanes. Our creativity drains. Our lifeforce dwindles.

There is power in the female pack.

That's never been more obvious to me than it was this morning at a brunch of eight amazing women in their 30s and 40s. I was visiting from out of town, looking back on some rare and beautiful friendships, wishing I could cling to these girls and do life with them on a daily basis. Wishing I could pack up the energy swirling, whirling around the room and take it back to my little home, a state away. There was power in the conversation, as it quickly flitted from our husband's snoring, fertility and hormones, life dreams, health problems, apparent miracles in 2008, the power of faith, and the zany ways God provides for us--the ways we know that we can keep trusting him through it all.

I'm here to testify, I felt the power of the female pack. And as respect flowed around the table, mingling with genuine affection, a few tears appeared. Delighted exclamations, too. Nods and encouraging words. Graciousness and laughter. Friendship and fellowship. Precious and potent.

I

miss

my

friends.

Not too long ago, I read a book about relocation. It said that I must learn how to transition to my new life, and there is one thing that would help me: discover the difference between clinging and cherishing. Clinging to the old life I had will not help as I seek to build the new one. I have to let go to grasp something new. But, cherishing, that's another matter. Cherishing allows me to thank God with fondness for the deep and beautiful relationships he has woven into my past. While anticipating the new things he is doing in my future.

That's where I want to be--and who I want to be. But for today, I smile and sigh, and am a little amazed at the energy and warmth generated by today's female pack of 8. Thank God for shared sisterhood. Thanks for the ability to even cherish something so precious.

A little bit of our first Christmas

Just 6 days. Approximately 144 hours. It's the nightly advent readings that get me truly excited. We light our advent candles, now burning lower and lower, and read from the book Jotham's Journey, a remarkable children's fiction book that leads up to the birth of Christ (which incidently should probably be rated PG-13, due to the cruelty of the world Jesus was born into). We're getting excited. And it's not just all the festivities and parties. It's the knowledge that our Savior, God with skin on, was sent in a small package. Never mind that he arrived, 2000 years ago, and changed history. We're back in the moments and days and months before Mary went through childbirth. We're rejoicing with Elizabeth, whose babe kicked up a storm in the presence of the unborn Christchild. We're marveling at Joseph's calling, and Mary's "yes." We're full of hope and anticipating the joy.

And this is a little bit of our Christmas:

Our table

Our snow

Our half-Christmas tree (thank you jcpenney.com, it fits flat against the wall!)

Our cranberries, now strung up for all to see

And our Advent wreath

We're keeping it simple, and trying to keep it real. What am I looking forward to the most? I love that my mom will be traveling to spend Christmas with us. But I'm especially happy that our church has a simple, beautiful Christmas Eve service planned. A time to worship. A time to sing for joy. A time to celebrate the rescue that meets our deepest need. I'd like to bottle this hope and keep it shining all year through.

Broken things

It started with the Christmas newsletter. Completely deleted. The day progressed with a broken crock pot, shattered...completely my fault, with no one else to blame. And then the brand-spankin'-new 1000-watt blender several days later. A result of a failure of the bottom of the blender to latch. Again, user error.

It reminds me of the IT guy who said most computer problems happen between the chair and the keyboard. Hmmm.

I really, really want to stop breaking things.

This morning, I finished a whale of a book titled The Hour I First Believed. I can't recommend it to you, mainly because of the profanity and immorality I found in its pages. I almost gave up on it myself. What kept me going was the hope of redemption. The protagonist's wife was a nurse in the library at Columbine during the shootings, and let's just say the axis of the main story line is how this quite certainly ruined their lives--post-traumatic stress led to drug addiction, drug addiction led to hitting a kid with a car, which landed her in jail, which....

Well, anyway, the characters are tormented at times. And they keep asking themselves, if there is a God, how could he ever let these terrible things happen, how could he let evil have free reign? The book went on and on, exposing the characters at their weakest, as daily trials came their way. But I was hoping, from the title, that the main character, Caelum, would find redemption, like I said. I was hoping he would find a loving God who hates suffering as we do, who offers a way of redemption, who will give us hope despite our present sadnesses and the twistedness of the world.

Instead, Caelum begins to suspect there is a higher power. And he sort of sees how history progresses and that good can still happen. And that is THE HOUR HE FIRST BELIEVED?

I wanted to weep. Because with his wife dead, and the character's mother and father's histories, his three marriages, alcoholism, etc., I wanted him to find more than a glimmer of hope. Something in me wanted him to find Jesus. To be broken so he could be filled up. What I didn't want was a sappy Christian ending. What I did crave was a resolution that fills the God-shaped hole in our hearts. A surrender.

I read page upon page of brokenness, lust, greed, envy, pride, and hatred. And I happen to know personally that those who are most broken most see their need of a God who rescues. I know this personally, from some really tough struggles with depression. I know something about how my heavenly Father "binds up the brokenhearted" and "proclaims freedom for the captives." I have been the one at the end of her rope. And he so patiently rescued me--more than once.

Isaiah 61

 1 The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is on me,
       because the LORD has anointed me
       to preach good news to the poor.
       He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
       to proclaim freedom for the captives
       and release from darkness for the prisoners, ^[a]
 2 to proclaim the year of the LORD's favor
       and the day of vengeance of our God,
       to comfort all who mourn,
 3 and provide for those who grieve in Zion—
       to bestow on them a crown of beauty
       instead of ashes,
       the oil of gladness
       instead of mourning,
       and a garment of praise
       instead of a spirit of despair.
       They will be called oaks of righteousness,
       a planting of the LORD
       for the display of his splendor.

The Hour I First Believed is just a book, you say. And that is true. But the themes in it ring true and loudly: does a God who supposedly create the world care about me? And if so, how could he ever allow this &*%$ chaos to happen.

It's universal, my friends. Talk to your neighbor or your mail carrier, your mother or your mentor. Underneath, we're all asking the same questions, in different ways.

Let me be clear on one thing: it is true. All of it. Jesus really does love the whole world, and you and me specifically. We can all find the rescue our hearts long for. Keep searching. And while you're at it, read the book of John in the Bible and one particular Psalm--Psalm 139.

What about you? Is our Abba-Father restoring the broken pieces in your life? Do share...

The Monday morning blues

The Y around the corner practically bursts at the seams on Monday mornings. You think I'm exaggerating, but believe me, people are doing penance. Sometimes they even talk about the nasty things they ate over the weekend, which they will burn off with a simple 30-minute session on the elliptical. At least that's the hope.

But working out brought on the blues for me this morning, due to a couple of perky, blonde, 20-something fitness instructors who were using the nautilus pull machine next to my mat. The nerve. 

I gotta tell you, I laughed at Anne Lamott's story of "The Aunties" in her book Traveling Mercies. I mean, I've read it two to three times, to be honest. Her tale of woe about her aging body in an ill-fitting swimsuit always made me feel better. Those teenie-boppers around her will get older, she said, and then they'll see. Oh, yes. And I always thought that was just a funny line.

But now I get it, Anne. Oh, I feel your pain...and your justification. Call me. We can commiserate.

Cause as I was lying on the floor mat, dutifully doing some crunches, stretches, and stability ball exercises, the two perky instructors and their two twenty-something friends started gabbing. They were laughing at their pregnant friend and discussing ways to get rid of stretch marks. And then one of the instructors blurted out: "Yeah, my SECOND kid always acts like that." And I was like, oh, my goodness, how many children does that skinny thing have??"

And that was my ugly thought for the morning, that surprised even me in its intensity.

And then came my second thought, equally as troubling: your body is 36-years-old and starting to droop. If it ever happens to produce a child, said body will likely not spring back into even its present droopy state. Oh, dear. I am now the older woman wishing for the younger body. How did this happen? On what day? 

All this time, I've been a big health proponent, eating well, exercising moderately, etc. And I thought I really believed that size does not matter, and that I should try to be a healthy person and leave the rest to God and nature. I used to be called "skinny" and hated it. Now I'm calling someone else the same, if only in my head?

Self-awareness is the first step to recovery, friends. And so I'm going back to chat with God this morning about the important things. He'll correct my skewed view of my tummy and my thighs, and I'll ask him to help me focus on how I can serve him and others today, instead of worrying about the big droop.

Somehow, I'm starting to feel better already...got a body image story of your own? Please post. You, too, Anne Lamott! Ha.

The Arranged Marriage Gone Right

Finally, a picture of the happy couple I mentioned a few posts back. The arranged marriage, 46 years strong, filled with ministry and many wonderful memories. We are thankful to have these dear missionaries in our Sunday School class now--they are a true gift from India!

----------------------------------------------------------

The husband and I had a warm and welcoming time at the Sunday School Christmas party last night. There was Christmas punch with raspberries, chicken wings, delicious dips, and some beautiful homemade candies. I have to tell you, we did indulge. But the best part was the fellowship of friends. This morning in S.S., our teacher, Doug, spoke up during the "praises" part of the prayer time. He was thankful, he said, to be friends with David. To wonder all these years why such a nice guy had not found a good wife. And look what God has done this year, he said. We're so grateful.

That's make three of us, Doug. You, me, and David, too. As I always suspected, we are most grateful for the things we ache and pray for the longest. How many hundreds of thousands of prayers paved the way for this, our first Christmas together.

Joy to the world has taken on a whole new meaning. It still means the same thing--but this year, the joy in my heart feels brighter, more boisterous, even rambunctious. 

Oh, joy.

Things a girl might learn on facebook

Facebook is fun...but also funny.

Take for instance, the way my mom didn't want to be listed as "single" on facebook. So when she changed to no status, it said "she is no longer single" with a heart next to it. Oh, dear.

Just today, I learned that a friend showered, that "people suck," and who went to whose house for Thanksgiving by viewing photos. I have been zinged by lots of snowballs (finally discovered how to "block" this feature) and reunited with folks I might never have seen again, including two friends from high school.

All of it still feels a little surreal. A little like a parallel universe. And so....so, I am trying to develop a new habit of only checking my facebook account once a day. Really. I'll have to let you know how that goes. Perhaps I'll have to start communicating the old-fashioned way...via email. Ha!

A Certain Blackmail Photo

He's all boy. And someday he will thank his aunt. He will thank her that although she witnessed his Thanksgiving weekend bath and captured said event on camera, she did utilize the power of strategic photo cropping. Got the Elvis look on the hair, got rid of...well, you know. Kind of makes you want to suds up now, doesn't it?

An Arranged Marriage Gone Right or How I Came To Wear a Sari

I am not of India or anywhere remotely exotic. I was born in Chicago and have spent most of my life up till now in the great Midwest. So I gain culture from my friends and acquaintances. At least I try.

A few weeks back, we were attending a church gathering of our Sunday School class...a really vibrant, challenging group of people, and our friends Oe and Mariam decided they wanted to do a sari presentation.

That is, being from India, and having recently returned from an extended missions trip there, Mariam wanted us to see these beautiful displays of silk and color. And I was voted in as the manikin. I didn't complain, though. I've always admired Mariam's Indian outfits. And so she wrapped me up. And everyone admired my new look.

But at the time, I was thinking more about the fact that Oe and Mariam, being from India after all, must have had an arranged marriage of some fashion. And so I asked the question and was rewarded with a fascinating love story.

That is, it all started out rather beningly, but when you realize what become of the arrangement, it's quite stunning. Two young Christian people in India, waiting to find their life's mate. He was 28, she 20, which is not uncommon. Their fathers met and discussed their personalities, their Christian values, and...well, the possibilities. It was decided they should meet. But going in, Mariam knew she could say no if she wasn't excited about the prospect. She knew she had veto power, which made it a little easier.

So they met for a 1/2 hour, discussed personal and spiritual values they held dear, and decided to do it. Her only hesitation? "Mother," she said, "He is a Christian worker and I am afraid on his salary he will not be able to afford many saris for his wife." And if that is your only red flag, well then, marriage must be imminent. And it was.

What became of their union? 44 years later, it is vibrant and true. They became missionaries to Kenya, where Oe taught at a Bible institute. He is now a very well-respected Bible teacher--his partner, Mariam, has a Christian spirituality that runs deep and a heart of gold. And so, several children and grandchildren later, after Oe (72) and Mariam (64) have been settled near children in the states, they have decided to take trips to India to help a Bible institute there. For much of the time I have known them, they have been in India or just returning. It was hard there, quite difficult at times and very trying, but God was faithful. The reward is knowing you've been obedient and seeing God work in amazing ways. Even opening up a well for drinking water, in an area that had been without water for as long as anyone knew. An area that was in desperate need.  This Sunday in church I looked over at OE and leaned over to see the pin on his lapel. Do you know what it said? "Expect miracles."

I guess the arrangement worked out alright, eh? I love a good story where love conquers all. And when a union is based upon the pure, true love of Christ, miracles do happen. And we should expect them.

(Sorry, I don't have a pic of this happy couple; perhaps I can post one later!!)

VEGAN HOLIDAY TREATS: Almond Carob Bars

They make your mouth water. With a delectable blend of honey, coconut, peanut butter, carob. No one I know can keep their hands off them. And the fiber content insures your blood sugar won't drop to your ankles while you are nibbling on these rich treats. You don't have to think of them as healthy...just think yummy. And everything in moderation. They're actually quite rich! (And don't say I told you so, but you can probably just as easily substitute chocolate/cocoa for carob. Just make sure you use the healthy dark stuff!)

Almond Carob Bars

-1 c. honey                                                      -3 c. oat bran

-2 c. unsweetened coconut                              -1/4 c. carob powder

-2 T. water                                                       -1/2 c. soy milk powder

-1/2 c. peanut butter

1. Mix above ingredients.
2. Spread oat bran mixture in a 9”x12” glass dish, packing it down, and frost.
3. Sprinkle with coarsely chopped almonds.

Frosting:

-2 T. peanut butter                                 -1 c. carob chips

-2 c. roasted almonds (or less)

1. Microwave peanut butter and chips for a few seconds to melting point and mix.
2. Spread immediately with metal spatula and quickly sprinkle chopped almonds.

Store in refrigerator and will last at least a week. Yum-o. The man of the house and I have started making them every other week. Our friends and family can't get enough of them. Sometimes we don't even mention that they use all "foods as grown." Our little secret...

A quote from Mother Teresa

She served the poorest of the poor in India. The rejectables. She loved Jesus and devoted her life to him, while also struggling with her own dark night of the soul. I love this woman.

"Spread love everywhere you go...Be the living expression of God's kindness; kindness in your face, kindness in your eyes, kindness in your smile, kindness in your warm greeting."

-Mother Teresa, Catholic missionary, 1910-1997

A Most Magical Evening

Sunday night almost always finds the husband and I home. Eventually, he will find his way to the navy blue leather couch and lie down. Snoring ensues in about 2.7 minutes. (Here's the part where I'd love to describe it as "a gentle, whiffling snore," but...) I haven't timed how long it takes for the snoring to start, but let's just say it's a pretty accurate guesstimate.

So last night he was laying there in his thick cotton navy blue robe, matching the couch, no less. And his legs were sticking out the bottom, all hairy and cute. The homemade granola was cooling on the top of the oven, and a healthy vegan apple crumbcake was on the counter. I had already consumed one piece, fresh from the oven.

No doubt about it, I was in an expansive, even joyful, mood.

After spending some lovely days with friends and family in Michigan, I was HOME. And it feels like home. I have days when I get restless, and I wonder what direction God is steering me in sometimes, but I'll admit, there's no place I'd rather be than our home. With my HUSBAND. It feels like a luxury I have been waiting for my whole life. Wait just a sec, I guess I sort-of have been waiting that long!

But what made the night especially magical was that I had talked the husband into taking a walk in the dark. I'd guesstimate the walk was almost two miles, me bundled in a thick padded coat with a hat, scarf and warm gloves...the husband in a lightweight jacket. He still had his hat and gloves, though, which was providential.

Because as we rounded a bend on the trail, white fluffy stuff came floating down. Yes, snow has arrived.  And it even began to accumulate on his black hat. Which made me smile and stick my tongue out to catch a flake. And I almost started skipping, I think.

It felt like Christmas and my birthday and a hug by a loved one all rolled into one. I felt hope and promise in the air. And my love was by my side, his breath visible in the night air, his hand holding mine through our gloved fingers.

And then we tripped and fell on our faces. Kidding! Just trying to lighten the sappiness, friends.

We headed toward our little gray house on our quiet little street, and we bustled in, discarding our coats and things, our noses red and our hearts warm. But the best part of this magical evening was the ending. And I am not about to get all romantic on you. Puh-leease. This is even better.

The husband and I sat side by side and we prayed. Up till now, we haven't done this that often, but we've recently been reminded of how important it is to keep our marriage grounded, to keep us sticking together through thick and thin. We prayed for married friends who desperately need a miracle in their relationship, we prayed for another friends' daughter who so badly wants to feel her legs again so she can walk. We prayed for our pastors and our neighbors, our families, and finally, we prayed for ourselves.

We thanked God for each other and the change each of us has brought to the other's life. We prayed about our future, about David's job at GM, which seems uncertain in these times. We prayed about the directions God is leading me in, and about whether our family will grow or just remain the two of us.

We talked to God about all of this. And my tears flowed. And then I dried them. And then I kissed my husband on his head before he drifted off into dreamland.

And that is one magical evening, friends. Magical, indeed.

A Confession of the Literary Kind

I have a confession...gulp! I shamelessly, mindlessly, tend to read about 6 books at a time. I do this because I have many needs, people, and the one-book-at-a-time approach simply cannot meet them all.

I need an escape, which for me includes what I personally deem to be literary candy. For me, this means Jan Karon or Philip Gulley, served up chapters at a time, producing many smiles and sighs. Allowing me to put my brain on "coast." If I'm sick or even feeling down I could Real Simple, More, Good Housekeeping, Reader's Digest, etc. all day long. With a cup of tea. It's utter relaxation to me.

I need challenge or encouragement, which I sometimes find myself ravenous for, with my appetite satiated by books like The Lost Women of the Bible by Carolyn Custis James. See if that title doesn't expand your feminine horizons, ladies! Oh, the amazing plans God has for us!

Quite frankly, I need HELP. This is why I read books like Get Rid of Clutter, Organizing Magic, The Firstborn Advantage (book review coming) and Sheet Music (good choice for any of my married friends).

I need to grow spiritually. So sometimes I read a very straightforward (I wouldn't say it's dry exactly) book that outlines the 16 articles of my church's doctrine. I'll be honest--I have to be disciplined to do this, but when I did, I gained knowledge I need.

NOW FOR THE BIG CONFESSION: I have not finished For Whom the Bell Tolls, even though it is on my "blog reading list." It just hasn't totally captured me, so I might do something some of my friends would frown at. I might just...not finish it! Life is too short, people...

Now, confession time for you--what are you reading, and why??

We're on eharmony.com!!

Hey peeps:

You'll never believe it, but the husband and I are a success story on eharmony.com under the "Nearly Gave Up" link.  What was I thinking when I didn't add "meet your spouse" to the benefits of the internet below. Yeah, howdy, I'll definitely have to fix that...

Want to see for yourself? Click here.

Next thing you know we'll be wearing those cheesy "bride 08" and "groom 08" tshirts they sent us and I'll be posting a photo. But only if my hubbie agrees. :)

What the Internet can do for you

Intrusive, mechanical, removed...the Internet often feels this way to me. And so I often feel that my facebook/email/blogging persona is a different person. And the part of me that's real and longs for connection with a real person sitting next to me sometimes wishes for more.

And yet.

And yet the Internet has transformed my life, practically speaking. And I can be a very practical girl.

Consider some of these technological wonders:
-Wedding jewelry for $20 on ebay. Check.
-Long torso swimsuits from the clearance section of landsend.com. Check multiple times.
-Keeping in touch with 50 friends around the country courtesy of facebook. Priceless.
-Discovering how to properly fold a fitted sheet on about.com. Yes, I actually did this. I'm not ashamed.
-Posting wedding pics for the world to see on this very blog. Pure sappiness...er, happiness!
-Looking up "football" on wikipedia to show my husband I love him. Nope, I'm still clueless there.
-Google search of available ingredients to find perfect recipe. I'm a pretty doggone good pseudo-cook now.
-Amazon.com. Need I say more?
-Freelance work courtesy of an old colleague on linkedin. Bonus!

-Meeting your husband. (Duh, can't believe I forgot this one. Thank you, eharmony!)

How about you? How have the wonders of the Internet changed your life for the better...please post!

Explaining our new eating

A boring title, but I thought I should elaborate. If you see the post below, it will give you some context.

We basically came to learn, through the CHIP program, that eating excessive amounts of animal protein contributes to the three big killers--heart attack, stroke, and cancer. It began to make sense to us that our diets are typically WAY too weighted on the side of animal protein and fat. Then there's the fact that cow milk really isn't created to be digested by humans. It's created to be digested by calves who will grow to be humongous cows.

So what I'm not saying is that one should never eat meat or dairy. All I can tell you is that since we cut way back on the aforementioned, our bodies are working beautifully. Less sugar, more fiber, less fat and animal protein = really good health.

Others who are on the chip program have been able to get off all or some of their prescription medicines. And the program has also helped many people to get rid of type 2 diabetes. Not to mention making everyone much more regular! :)

Anyway, lest you think we're wasting away, we get plenty of protein through nuts, soy, and grains that are quite high in protein. Don't get me wrong, I still like meat and dairy, but if we do eat it, it's more of a condiment or a side dish.

Not buying it? You like your meat and cheese too much? Just try one thing, then--learn how to cook oat groats for breakfast or fix a big bowl of oatmeal with only a little maple syrup. After a few days, you'll be surprised how it keeps you going throughout the morning.

Cheers!

A little bit vegan or how we became crunchy granola types

You might not believe this, but the man of the house and I have been eating vegan. Seriously. Most of our meals no longer include meat and dairy. Except for the weekends and the moderate amounts of cheese we use when we make pizza.

You might not believe this either, but we make our OWN granola. I suppose that makes us crunchy granola types now. David eats it every morning for breakfast, and I just know it will be a long-term habit. (Considering he ate the same breakfast cereal each morning for four years prior to that.) As for me, I eat oat groats. Sounds appetizing, doesn't it? Quite simply, it's the whole oat kernel, not the "cut oats" most of us are used to eating. And for me, a big bowl of oat groats ensures that I will not be hungry again for five hours at least. A big change for me--and I am a lot less grumpy before lunch these days. :)

What has possessed us? We joined a CHIP (coronary health improvement program) program a few months back and took a 30-day eating challenge. We were going to clean up our diet and eat foods simply prepared, foods as grown. Something went terribly right with both of us on this program, as I stopped getting those dastardly "blood sugar swings" that make me grumpy. David, well, he's in a league by himself--having lowered his blood pressure and dropped twenty pounds total. (He had started losing some weight before the program.)

So, anyhoo, I'm a nicer person now, and David, well, he's fit into a suit he hasn't worn in years. The one I was insisting should go to Good Will only a few months ago.

Just to give you an example of what we eat, here are some of our new recipes:
-pasta primavera (sauce made from cashews)
-mediterranean lentil soup
-carob almond peanut butter bars (to die for! we make them almost every week)
-millet cheese (an amazing nacho cheese substitute-made with cashews & pimientos--that is great with mexican)
-spicy beans, tomatoes, and rice
-tamale pie (with cornmeal, kidney beans, and olives)

And, wow, how our shopping list has changed! We're really enjoying our vanilla silk soy milk, but we have yet to dive into the tofu world, although we're considering it now. We've also found that when we occasionally do eat meat we eat less of it, since we're filling up on grains and fruits and veggies. Anyway, I'm seriously considering posting the best of our recipes very soon, since some facebook friends also want them.

And I'd simply love to post a picture of my hubbie making granola. He's got it down to a science--and oh, the smell of honey and cinnamon in our kitchen. As Mr. Food would say, "Oooo...so good."

facebook, discovered

I totally caved. It happened when I was the youngest in my Biblestudy and the only one NOT on facebook. Don't plan on becoming a total junkie, but I am live now. Part of the rest of the world online community. Had several friends waiting for me, too. Kind of like instant gratification, eh?

My tall, loveable, goofball of a guy

The man of the house is a cutup. Proof #1: we hosted a fun event at a local coffee house last night where my friend Cal made some outstanding music, and David decided to ham it up. His excuse? It's Halloween. And that's why he went from this...

To this...

In case you're wondering, that's my famous "Serena" wig. Quite a contrast, eh? And so thought the rest of the people at the coffee house. Including a few stunned acquantainces who were meeting him for the first time. Including a fellow-chaplain's wife!

Nope, you never know quite what will happen with David around. My friend Janet told me before we were married that she believed David's goofiness would be a perfect match for my seriousness. She believes he is just what the Dr. (or the Creator) ordered. I'm in complete agreement.

And in case you're wondering about the seriousness of the goofball claim, here's further supporting evidence:

You gotta love a man in uniform. So sorry, ladies, but this goofball of a guy is all mine!!

The Blessed Imperfectness of Church

The husband and I attend a great church across town, full of delightful characters. We have many of the elderly in wheelchairs and walkers, we have a whole Sunday School class made up of those who are mentally challenged, who really love to worship Jesus and talk about him. We have plumbers and school principals, babies and stay-at-home moms. Career women and retired missionaries, and everything in between.

I've really never been a fan of southern gospel music, but when they play and sing it at this church, which they often do, I don't mind so much. I sense that they are really, sincerely, worshipping God, and it makes me sing louder. (Ask the husband, I do sing plenty loud in church.)

One of the things I hate in churches is fakeness and hypocrisy. Sorry, that's two things. And I happen to believe God hates them, too. And being raised as a Baptist pastor's daughter, I have an uncanny nose for such things. Insincerity stinks, and I can smell it a mile away. That's another reason I like our church.

Now, I'm not saying it's a perfect church--I'll admit it's quite imperfect. We are all imperfect creatures, after all, always in need of God's grace. But there's a freedom at the church that I really dig. 

I like that there are old people and young people at our church. I like the way people raise their hands often while they are worshipping God, young and old. I like the way they kneel at the altar up front to pray for needs, and the way they pray out loud, leaving nothing on the table. Pouring it all out to God. Especially my 73-year-old mentor, Doris. She's been praying practically her whole life, and she prays like God is listening and ready to respond; she prays boldly and often. It's a way of life for her, really.

And here's something that's pretty fantastic, too: when I go to prayer meeting on Wednesday night (which I never pictured myself doing, but I love), people come in who have messed their lives up royally but are turning back to God. And these people, of whom some are "the least of these" Jesus tells us to minister to, show signs of God's movement in their lives, and you remember how very real this relationship with Jesus is. And how it changes everything. And these people pray to Jesus very desperately, in a good way. And they know he is their only hope. And that is a very beautiful place to be.

This is why the church has a food pantry, and Angel Food Ministries, and a hispanic campus, and several outreaches throughout the year where they provide things that people in the community need. It's because Jesus loves everyone intensely, but he especially commanded us to serve the poor.

And there's something really cool about our church that's brand new for me, too. Our particular denomination ordains women, and we happen to have an amazing female pastor at our church. She heads up the evangelism ministry, while her husband serves as senior pastor, and together they make an amazing team. To say this is shocking to some of you would be an understatement. 

My own views on this issue have been evolving, first as I undertook a study of all of the New Testament women several years ago, and then as I've been noticing some things in Scripture for the first time that actually assume women were involved in prophesying in the early church. But don't get me started about Lydia and Phoebe, Nympha and Tabitha, Susanna and Joanna, Mary Magdalene, etc. And how about Deborah in the Old Testament? This is neither the time nor the place. :)

It's just freeing to see Pastor C., a woman using her giftings to their full potential, doing exactly what God has called her to do. And quite frankly, this is one of the reasons I am pursuing chaplaincy ministry, because I feel God's call on my life. It is not to make a point, except for this: Jesus loves me and those around me very intensely, wants to rescue us from our sin, and wants me to share the beauty of what that rescue means with others, so they can know him, too.

In summary, I'm experiencing church in a new and different way. But it's a good different. In chaplaincy ministry, it's amazing to see how chaplains of so many different denominations come together to share Christ. It's moving to see so many people who approach their worship and sometimes their faith differently, still hold the essentials of what Jesus has come to do for us dear. 

I am blessed by the imperfectness of church. And I hang on the shining moments when people who love Jesus love well in return. Even in the midst of a very precarious time in history, it gives me great hope for the future. 

De Grand Hotel

Ever visited Mackinac Island? If so, you'll agree that it's a kinder, slower pace there. Friendly and stately, it's one of the largest destinations where travel is done strictly by foot, bicycle, or horse-drawn carriage. No motorized vehicles are allowed.

So last week, we were heading to the Island--and the Grand Hotel specifically--for a wonderful marriage conference. And here's the husband waiting very patiently to board the ferry.

In case you're wondering what he's thinking, I'll take a guess: "There she goes again, snapping my picture for her blog. Maybe if I act like a statue she'll snap a photo of the boat or something, anything else. Rrrrr....maybe not..."

As for me, I was just happy to be headed to one of my all-time favorite places:

Due to some pretty amazing October squalls, the 15-minute ferry ride looked like a car wash, with waves crashin' and splashin' against the windowed walls. Check out the mini-prism on the left.

Happily, snappily, we arrived on the Island, where we promptly hiked the back way to the Grand Hotel. Actually, we didn't have a clue where we were going, but after one island-dweller with a completely straight face insisted we needed to take a boat down to Chicago and then over to Detroit, before returning to find the hotel, we discovered we could hoof it there by walking through the lawn of the Island School. After cresting the hill beyond the school, the hotel soon came into view.

Pretty grand, isn't it? For all of you who appreciate history:

It's quite a breathtaking place, really. But since it was made in oh, 1887, specifically, it does have a few quirks. One of them was our room, which happened to have two full beds and a really strange slope that moved dramatically downward from the windows to the entry door. You actually walked up to get to the other side of the room. Which meant David almost fell out of bed that night, when he began to roll toward the door. Thankfully, he managed to keep himself from falling overboard...er, overbed.

All in all, we had a great stay...complete with a fancy-shmancy dinner in the hotel dining room. Here's me, smiling real big after tasting some exquisite creme brulee.

Oh, and here's a photo of my shrimp and scallops appetizer. Not a lot of food on a plate, but it was delicious nonetheless. And they make up for it with an incredible amount of silverware. Four spoons and five forks, for pete's sakes! 

We leave you with one more photo of The Grand Hotel courtyard, where Christopher Reeves and Jane Seymour fall in love in the movie "Somewhere in Time." But before we do that, for any couples who could use an inspiring romantic getaway, we highly recommend the Celebrate Marriage conference, with our friends Jay and Laura Laffoon, held at Mackinaw six times a year. It's money incredibly well spent as you make this memory together. Cheers!

Cardboard Testimonies

Tears. That was the natural reaction, as this video of "cardboard testimonies" representing lives changed by Jesus' love. Thanks to our dear friend, Janet, for emailing the link. Not all of us have eight minutes to spare...but we can usually find eight minutes if needed. I have to tell you, your time will be well invested:

Thoughts?

What Would Jesus Say . . . about Politics?

I'll admit it. I've missed the last two presidential debates. And I really hate to say this, but I feel like I haven't missed much. Today I received an email from a friend whose sister had sent along this quote from the book In the Name of Jesus by Henri Nouwen--a dear author, Jesus-follower, treasurer of the least of these, and Catholic priest. (If you get to know him through his writings and things written about him, you'll come to treasure him for his pure love relationship with Jesus.)

Read below and you might understand why I consider myself neither a Democrat, a Republican, or an Independent. (This is a big change for me from just 15 years ago.) You might even start to contemplate how a Jesus-follower like Billy Graham could be a Democrat while ministering to several Republican presidents, or why a Republican might sincerely love a Democrat and come to respect his or her perspectives.

That would be because these individuals are not about politics. They are about listening to the voice of love that can be heard only by sitting at Jesus' feet. Note the sentence I highlighted, too, guys...and feel free to comment on this post! Would love to hear from you.

"Christian leaders cannot simply be persons who have well-informed opinions about the burning issues of our time. Their leadership must be rooted in the permanent, intimate relationship with the incarnate Word, Jesus, and they need to find there the source for their words, advice, and guidance. Through the discipline of contemplative prayer, Christian leaders have to learn to listen again and again to the voice of love and to find there the wisdom and courage to address whatever issue presents itself to them. Dealing with burning issues without being rooted in a deep personal relationship with God easily leads to divisiveness because, before we know it, our sense of self is caught up in our opinion about a given subject. But when we are securely rooted in a personal intimacy with the source of life, it will be possible to remain flexible without being relativistic, convinced without being rigid, willing to confront without being offensive, gentle and forgiving without being soft, and true witnesses without being manipulative."

More on Henri Nouwen: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Henri_Nouwen

Dream this, dream that

I do not understand my dream life. Not at all.

Just yesterday, I took an afternoon nap and started to awake in the middle of a vivid dream. I was having a picnic with Obama, folks, a real middle-America picnic, and I believe Robin from Good Morning, America was there also. Couldn't tell you why exactly. Except that I really like Robin. She's always struck me as the friendly sort--and besides she appeared on TV every morning while going through chemotherapy and radiation!! The girl is strong AND kind.

So there was Obama, standing behind this table with a red and white checked tablecloth, of course, when he said something unusual. He said that all of the food we consume at this picnic must be red. (Which is ironic, isn't it, considering he's hoping for "blue" states, not "red" ones.) But anyhoo, I'm not making this up. So I was panicking a little, when I realized I could eat a red-skinned potato at this picnic. Yes, I was even pleased at the prospect. (Why? Probably because I have red-skinned potatoes in the cupboard. David thinks I should have chosen watermelon.)

But anyhoo, we moved away from the food table to encounter a pretty young thing who claimed she had a picnic with my darling husband a year ago. The nerve! I was pretty worked up, at her having spent time with my sexy husband and all, when I woke up.

I told David the whole dream, and he asked me what color the girl's hair was. I told him blond, and he said "Not to worry. I've never gone for blondes." Which was supposed to be comforting. When meanwhile, I am thinking, can anyone make sense of this incredibly strange dream??

Any ideas? :)

The Country Chiropractor

Yesterday the husband and I traveled a good 35-40 miles to get to a good chiropractor. My neck and jaw were out of alignment, and it was making me grumpy and tired. The husband was hoping we could fix these ills and get back to our normal domestic happiness.

Enter the country chiropractor. I'll call him Dr. H. The minute we pulled up to his small office and I saw the "The Country Chiropractor" on the front of the building, I couldn't stop smiling. The chairs inside looked like real leather. And the front desk opening was all wood--it looked just like the post office teller's desk or something in Little House on the Prarie. This was going to be interesting. Before long, I found out Dr. H and his wife had been in business in this office for 45 years!

Despite their longevity, Dr. H's methods were very up-to-date. He uses an electric activator, which looks sort of like this picture, except it is electric:

I climbed on a small platform, then he lowered the table down. It appeared Dr. H's goal was to make both of my legs the same length. He kept watching the legs to see if they were aligning as he took the electric activator and zapped my neck, my lower back, my jaw, etc., etc. I say "zapped," but there was no shock, and it only hurt once on a sensitive area of my neck. He kept asking me to look left and right so he could tell if things were lining up correctly and if he was fixing my neck so I could have full range of motion.

When all was said and done, he lowered me back on to the platform and said I might be slightly dizzy. I was, but within seconds regained my balance. I was trying to assess if the treatment had worked. Within five minutes, while we were still in Dr. H's office talking with him and his Mrs., I knew that it had. I was so loose, relaxed, and in alignment, that I thanked him again.

I'm not sure, but that might have been the best chiropractic adjustment I have ever had. It certainly was gentle and effective. And loads better than the two adjustments from the "I'll beat those kinks out of ya" chiropractor I had a few months back. No spasming or inflammation this time. Just pure comfort. From a country chiropractor. Who knew?

For more information on activator techniques, see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Activator_technique

 

Oh, and many thanks to Dr. H and his dear wife. Hope they stay in business for years to come. I can truly say he is the best country chiropractor I have ever had occasion to know. I'm not saying he's a miracle worker, but he did fix my neck and restore domestic happiness in my home. And I'm grateful!

Cheers.

An Open Letter to My Facebook Friends

Dear people who live on facebook.com:

No, I am not signed up. This does not mean my US citizenship has been revoked or that I'm turning into a hermit, or that I've forgotten my friends of yesteryear. 

Doesn't mean any of that.

I've received your multiple invitations, and your emails, and your "I think you're the only one not on Facebook" exhortations. Due to the tide swell of invites and the multiple conversations I've had about facebook, I've considered signing on.

Wouldn't it be fun, I've thought, to see what old classmates/boyfriends/roommates are doing now? I'd really like to hear from some old friends. And I haven't entirely ruled out becoming a member of facebook at some point in my life. It would be something to pass the time if I were bed-ridden, for instance. :)

But right now, I'm afraid that facebook would suck me in like a vacuum cleaner, beckoning me into constant online conversations and frankly, wasting my time. I'm already good at wasting time (sometimes on this blog!) and so I've resisted the grand, loud and insistent facebook vortex.

I have just said no...for now. But that doesn't mean I don't love you, people. Seriously. If you'd like to convince me otherwise about facebook, I'm opening myself up to your honest, heartfelt feedback.

Post below. Let's here from you on why you love or hate facebook!

Cheers.

 

"One big and painful red pimple" or "Why in the world am I so vain?"

OK, so I knew the title of this post would get you reading. Forgive me for having a marketing background for a minute, would ya?

And now back to the big, painful, bump of a red pimple on my chin. It's true, I don't normally blog about such things--hey, at least I spared you a picture! Ha! Stick with me here...there's a point to this post.

Yesterday I noticed that what was just a smidge of oil on the left of my chin had turned into a monster. OK, maybe I'm slightly overexaggerating, but it was the pain that first alerted me to this big red dot. I tried to kill the dastardly thing overnight with a swab of apple cider vinegar, but it would not be felled. This morning, as I squinted while re-examining this piece of work in the mirror, the big ugly thing stared back at me. It took a fair amount of mineral makeup to make the big bump "flesh-colored" as opposed to "flaming red." 

But honestly, I shrugged it off on my way to church as no big deal. It hasn't been as big a deal, to be honest, since I hit my 30s. But just before book club tonight I did something I try not to do: for some reason, I told myself maybe I should just skip book club because of this painful red bump on my chin. Yes, I actually had this stupid thought. And I am not 13 or even 23. (Fortunately, I quickly got over it and went anyway.)

I had these thoughts because I am human, and female, and many times, much too obsessed about the image I'm presenting to the outside world. Too often, I buy into the hoopla all that advertising tries to manufacture in my brain that what I am is not quite enough.

Can you relate to any of the following thoughts/comments?

* "I wonder if he or she can see my roots while we're talking, because I know I have at least 4 or 5 more grays..."

* "If I just found the right brand/fit of clothes, I just know I'd look more curvy, slimmer, classy, sexy, polished, or more like Jennifer Aniston. If only.... (sigh)"

* "Thanks, everyone tells me I have nice eyes, but really, it's just because I wear colored contacts..." or "You like this old thing? You don't think it makes me look (fill-in-the-blank) fat, old, too eager, too dressy, too much like Nancy Grace?"

* "When I get rid of my ... extra 30 pounds, or my acne, or my big nose, or my lopsided ears, or my crooked teeth, or my age spots, or my ugly [you-name-the-body-part], I'll feel loads better about myself and life will be good."

* "If I start to improve myself, I might, somehow, one day, attract a man I want to date or marry."

I'll stop here, although I could go on. Glamour, and even Redbook and Woman's Day have sold us the idea that physical perfection is a worthy goal. And as a result, we just can't get over ourselves. I'll admit it: I can be totally consumed with what I perceive to be my own inadequacies. I can be a self-improvement junkie. Even though I'd really love to call myself low-maintenance, I use Neutrogena nighttime cream as one of my final bedtime rituals, and Neutrogena daytime lotion before I can think about starting my day. And those are only two of the personal products that keep me prepared for the world, my friends. I'd actually be embarrassed to go through my list.

If I let myself, I can have this terrible habit of being alternately obsessed with my looks and how to improve them, or self-effacing and negative when presented with a compliment. (For instance, I wanted to believe David's aunt when she told me I had a beautiful smile a few weeks ago, but I told myself she didn't see the crooked teeth hiding in my mouth.)

And, don't you see, friends, that either choice comes from pride and self-addiction? The truth is, I need to get over myself. And when I make this choice, and see myself like God sees me, I smile. And I relax and feel warm inside; I know I have something that is valuable to my Creator, and it has nothing to do with how much I weigh or how many pimples might or might not pop up on my chin.

It's all about the beauty found in Psalm 139, this one particular psalm in the Bible, and how God created me, knows me, values me, and protects me. And suddenly, when I am secure in a love that transcends any physical limitation or anxiety, it's not about me anymore. It's about me loving people around me in a deeper way--no matter what they look like. It's so much closer to the way God thinks, even though I still have a long way to go.

Sometimes you meet people who remind you so clearly and definitively about how God feels about each of us. And my dear friends' daughter Angie is one of these people. Once an athletic and social 17-year-old, a car accident put her in a special chair and for now, has taken her ability to speak. But on the other hand, she communicates a lot. Each time I see her, her whole face lights up in a smile that is hard to describe beyond the words "pure and lovely." Her whole being radiates this delightful peace and joy that she shares with everyone who meets her. God's heart shines through her and reminds me that I can rest in His love, and let go of my self-addiction, and really start to believe that each of us, just as we are, are infinitely treasured in all our uniqueness.

When we realize this is true of us, we can start to see others in the same way, too. And we can say "so what" to one really painful red pimple--or any other thing standing between us and discovering how to choose a life of love instead. We can forget about ourselves more often and say an honest "thank you" when someone pays us a compliment. And the side benefit of believing what God says about us is that it creates a rare inner beauty in today's world--a quality that many around us are drawn to like moths to a flame.

I don't know about you, but when I'm honest with myself, I'd choose the inner beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit anyday. 

Thoughts?

My Birthin'day

Today I am 36 years old. David calls it my birthin'day.

This morning, half-dazed and wiping the sleep out of my eyes, I stumbled into the bathroom and noticed something unusual. I saw a gift bag sitting on the sink with a beautiful card from my husband (Some days I still can't believe I have a husband). And the card had the word "Love" written on the front of it.

This is when the following hit me:

1. Today is your birthday and you are 36.
2. About five months ago, you married David and moved away from everything to be with him.
3. Your wonderful husband calls you "Love," and expresses his love in a million other ways, too.
4. Life might be short, but God is always up to something new.

OK, so it took awhile for me to have all these thoughts, but come they did. And as the morning progresses, as I think about all that is happening in my life, I want to do something with significance today--anything. This is because today I am 36, and in what will seem like tomorrow, I will be 46; then suddenly 56, and so on.

Life moves by at a steady clip, and there is no revisiting yesterday. Only pressing on toward what is ahead, as Paul stressed in the book of Phillippians.

You find out how grateful you are for a parent when he quite quickly dies of cancer. You discover how much your health and vitality mean to you when they are snatched away and then restored. You understand how important the daily work of your hands and your heart is, when your life takes a completely new turn, when you realize you must do the thing God has placed on your heart, or your soul will shrivel.

Time here on earth is finite, and I don't want to waste it on unnecessary email, extravagant clothes, or even well-prepared meals. Any of these things can be fine, if they are not a distraction from the bigger thing: Jesus came with a mission of love to save me out of my self-addiction. He did this precisely so that I might know his love and inhabit it. So I can own the privilege of sharing His love with others daily.

Ephesians 5:16 is that famous Bible verse that talks about "redeeming the time." One of my favorite music artists, Chris Rice, may have illustrated this point most clearly in his song "Tick-Tock":

Got our heels dug in
But time is draggin' us toward
The time when time won't matter anymore
They say life is but a vapor
Just a blip on a radar screen
Not the dates on your tombstone
But the dash in between
There's just today, that's all we got
There's just today, that's all we got

Tick-tock, the past is locked
The future's far away
You can't go back, you can't hurry it up
You gotta learn to live today
Tick-tock, it's now o'clock
The little hand is ours
The second hand sweeps us around
And the Big Hand has the power
The Big Hand has the power

Well am I livin' or am I dyin'
Will the world get another day?
I hear a baby cryin', and I pluck out another gray
I'm always talkin' about a change
But talkin's all I've done
I'm gonna start tomorrow
But tomorrow never comes
There's just today, that's all we got
There's just today, that's all we got

Funny, as I pasted these lyrics in, I began to hear the tick-tock of the wall clock in our kitchen. A reminder that I must get up off this couch and start redeeming some time. 

Cheers...

A Spacious Place

He brought me out into a spacious place; he rescued me because he delighted in me.
Psalm 18:19

Girl-time
Just this last weekend, my friend, Brenda, was visiting from Michigan.  We sat on our navy blue leather couch, settling in for a deep heart-to-heart chat, sharing about the movement of God in our lives.

I was quite sobered to realize that the above verse, the one I have prayed for myself, for my mom and also for my dad, has quite literally come true in my life before my eyes; the promise in this verse is now as real to me as the warm oatmeal I consume for breakfast, or the book I hold in my hand. It seems fully materialized in my life. Friends, I am in a spacious place!

Undesired answers to prayer
Some of you may remember that I prayed the above verse out loud over my dad's life countless times before he died of cancer. His dying process was an 8-month journey for us. Two to four months in, his spacious place looked less like a long life, and more and more like a heavenly one. Oh, his spacious place would be glorious alright--but it would mean separation from those he loved. I knew in my heart it was his family who would suffer the loss, not him. He would be rescued because God delighted in him. And so he was. He was ready for his heavenly home at least three weeks before his spirit left this earth. And he talked of heaven with fondness, wistfulness, and finally, peace.

Oh, the joy and the sadness. To this day, 15 months later, I still burst out in tears from time to time. A spacious place, my friends, does not preclude sadness. Oh, no. This temporary separation from my dad stings, and it reminds me of heaven. It stares me in the face daily, repeating, "Heaven is a real place...the place you were made for."

Desired answers to prayer
Has your heart ever been "to-the-touch" tender about some deep desire? So tender, in fact, that you sometimes try to ignore the voice that speaks of the desire, to forget it exists? Been there, done that.

Several years ago, I started a photo frame with about eight openings. I was going to be flat-out honest with God about my tired desires. Those that remained unfulfilled. It was a bold thing to do, me wanting to hang it in my work office and all, but it never got hung, due to the fact that I never found all the pictures I was looking for.

Here was the gist: I would hang a pic of intertwined elderly hands, to signify my burning desire for a lifelong mate, even though I had no prospects on the horizon in my 30s. I would hang a black and white picture of my niece's tiny feet, to symbolize my desire for children, even though my biological clock was ticking faster and faster. There was a picture of a dolphin, as I have had a lifelong dream to swim with one. I had a picture of a sunset already placed in the frame, too; it was the Ludington beach, and it symbolized the beauty and tranquility of heaven to me; the place I would one day be forever. You get the idea...it was my heart served up on a photo frame. The idea was magical and beautiful to me; it was equally as painful.

Sometimes you stop praying for the things you desire the most; it gets too hard, and you are so afraid of another year of disappointment. We do this, I think, because we lose sight of God's goodness; we easily forget that He is being good even when we don't have what we ask for. That, quite frankly, He is supplying our needs, and He is working on our behalf, even when we don't "feel" we are tasting of his goodness.

Such was the case for me at times, for sure.

This place is spacious and different
Who would have known, even 15 months ago, that David and I would fall in love? Who could have predicted that the decision to leave my job, my friends, my church, my everything, in Michigan would have been an easy one? (Even though I knew I'd miss my friends dearly.)Who'd a thunk it? Not me, no, not me. There were many days and nights where the dream of a loving, Godly mate, seemed forever out of reach.

And then this whole story happened to me, to us. It was the sort of thing where you start to get to know a guy, and you try to peer into his heart, to get a good look, to make sure he has a good, if imperfect heart. And David was doing the same, honestly; he was assessing me for possible wife material. The only way any of this worked is that each of us had decided to keep our hearts open to the possibility that even though we had waited a really long time on this one desire, God just might want to step in and fulfill it. We were each waving a flag of "hope," and hoping on hope that God just might do something amazing.

And I have to tell you, God did! Have you ever read the proverb, "Hope deferred makes the heart sick."? Well, this was exactly the opposite of that--hope granted after a long wait makes the heart entirely, completely grateful and amazed.

Where to from here, God?
Sometimes David will wrap his arms around me or even just grab my hand, and I will get misty-eyed. I cannot get enough of his affection after going for so many years as an affection-starved single. To tell the truth, I cannot get enough of this one blessing in my life--I may be complacent about it someday, but not just yet. I'm drinking it in like a tall, cool glass of water on a hot, dusty day.

And I am thanking God for this spacious place. I'm thanking him for rescuing me out of depression and for propping me up and holding me fast as my dad's physical pain propelled him toward heaven. I'm thanking him for the way He is sustaining my brave mother. I'm down on my face, loving on God, thanking him for the blessing of David and all the newness it has brought to my life.

But many days I'm also asking, "Where to from here, Lord?" "What is it you want from us?" And God is answering, albeit slowly, and sometimes not on my time schedule. And I am learning to be OK with the "in-betweenness" of it all. I say I am LEARNING, because some days I'm just impatient.

A few months ago, I looked into applying to be a part-time workplace chaplain in our area, even though it did seem like a bit of a long shot, to be honest. But inside me has been a burning desire to share Jesus's love in a one-on-one sort of way. So I was putting out this fleece, asking God to show me if he might use me in this way.

And now, a few months later, God has answered with  a "yes!" In a few weeks, I will be trained to be a backup chaplain, assisting chaplains who are already in our area. And as more companies request chaplaincy help in our area, they are hoping to place me in a part-time position.

Oh, I'm humbled about this. For a day or two, I was even a little bamfuzzled about it, as my southern friend would say. But all that God's been doing, all he's been teaching me and leading me to discover, might just have prepared me for such a ministry as this.


Thank you, Father, for this spacious place. As thankful as I am for all You've provided, I'm even more thankful to have experienced Your goodness in both the difficult, painful times and the beautiful, joy-filled times. Thank you for loving me well and abundantly; help me to share your love with others lavishly, to give unselfishly, and to show off your heart towards us unceasingly. 

The story of tomatoes

We have a big, hairy, organic, overgrown, beautiful and bountiful tomato patch in our backyard. See what I mean?

Sometimes, when I'm leaning in through all that vegetation to grab a big, juicy one, I have to be extra careful I don't fall in. David might never find me again amidst all those vines. And since we've only been married like four months or something, you have to agree that would be a crying shame.

As for varieties in this monstrosity of red and greenness, we've got:

Roma? Check.

Beefsteak? Oh, yeah...

Heirloom grape tomatoes? You betcha.

I'm always amazed at how seeds turn to vines, turn to green tomatoes, turned to big, ripe, red, juicy ones. From the backyard to our table, we've been feasting on some of the finest-tasting tomatoes you'll find anywhere.

In fact, we practically have tomatoes coming out of our ears and our windowsills, friends.

I'd LOVE to share some with you personally, not virtually, but since we're not next-door neighbors, I'll do the next best thing...I'll share with ya a fresh roasted tomato sauce recipe from our darling of a cookbook, The Weight Watchers New Complete Cookbook. Don't think low-fat now, think flavor.

Roasted Tomato Sauce

Makes 5 servings

*3 pounds (about 18) plum tomatoes, cut in fourths lengthwise

*1 large Vidalia onion, halved lengthwise, then sliced crosswise

*1 Tablespoon balsamic vinegar

*3 garlic  cloves, minced (I used 5 or 6 cloves)

*3/4 teaspoon salt

*1/4 teaspoon freshly ground pepper

1. Adjust racks to divide oven in thirds. Preheat to 375. Spray 2 large nonstick baking pans with olive-oil nonstick spray. (or just spread olive oil in the pan)

2. Arrange the tomatoes and onion in single layers. Sprinkle with vinegar, garlic, salt and pepper, then spray lightly with nonstick spray. Roast, switching the pans from one shelf to the other halfway through, until the tomatoes and onion are lightly browned and have an intense, sweet aroma, 50-55 minutes. Transfer to blender or food processor; pulse until the mixture is combined but still a bit chunky.

Suzie's note: basil and more seasoning wouldn't be bad; if you can spare extra fat, you might add a bit of olive oil in the blender along with the possibility of a bit more salt, if you aren't watching your sodium.

And here's what it looks like:

Mmmm.

Whirr.

Piping hot, fresh roasted tomato flavor. One 2 cup serving for the fridge, and one for the freezer.

And while I'd love to get into the story of our peppers, times a-wasting. Talk to you later.

Blogmania: Suzie says hello to international visitors

Color me excited--I just discovered that folks have been visiting my blog from Australia, Kenya, the Bahamas, and the UK. (Not to worry, I have no idea who you are...I can just see I got a visit from your city/country.)

Welcome, international friends. And please forgive my myopic all-American perspective on life. I love Jesus, and dear friends and family, books of all kinds, dark chocolate, and almost any kind of music. In short, I love exploring and living life to its fullest.

Enough about me, though...I'd like to hear about you. International friends, please comment and tell us about yourselves!

Fall into Organizing (free charts attached!)

September 1 is here. And as the calendar turns over a new month, my urge to organize begins to rise. To help us all in this quest, feel free to download the attached "birthday organizer" list and the "cleaning chart," courtesy of our well-organized friends at realsimple.com.

FREE ORGANIZING CHARTS TO DOWNLOAD:
www.realsimple.com/birthday
www.realsimple.com/cleanchart

And tomorrow the house gets swept, swifferized, dusted, vacuumed, and generally cleaned from top to bottom, including the cobwebs in the corners. And, ah, the smell of lemon and orange after a day of cleaning from A-Z. Long may tidiness and order reign!

Calling all "bibliophiles!"

"Book lovers"...in case you were wondering. Only two more days left to take the "how many books did you read this summer?" quiz on the left. And I don't mean to get all political on you, but EVERY vote counts.

And Sarah Palin, you go, girl! Oops...I'm getting swept up in the presidential fever.

Happy holiday weekend...

Update on 9/1: 9 of you read 6 or more books this summer--3 of you 3-5. Thanks for voting!!

10 Ways Jesus Showed Love

You can't believe everything you read on the Internet. But sometimes you run across a gem you feel you must share. And since I don't do those dastardly "email forwards," I'm sending along this link to beliefnet.com:

http://www.beliefnet.com/gallery/tenwaysjesusshowedlove.html

Did you ever think of Jesus as a creative or a man filled with joy and laughter? You might now...you'll have to click "next" to see the whole slideshow from Stephen Post. (Oh, and you'll have to press that pesky "skip ad" link on the top right, but it will be worth it. You'll see.)

Enjoy! And happy holiday weekend to ya.

Winding Down the Rogue River

We were ready to canoe when we set out this morning. Yes, we were. David even commented that it might be good or bad for our marriage--sharing a canoe, that is. We were going to test the waters, so to speak.

Until we showed up at Powers Outdoors in Rockford, Michigan, and we saw the solo kayaks sitting there. Suddenly, David pictured us making our way down the river side-by-side in separate kayaks. He got no complaints from me. I'm all in favor of marital harmony.

The temp in Michigan got down to a chilly 48 degrees this morning, but by the time we hit the water, I think it was about 70. And so proceeded 2 1/2 hours of alternately drifting lazily and paddling quickly to make sure we didn't hit major boulders or downed trees.

For most of the 2 1/2 hours, I followed just a bit behind David, staring at the back of his head while I pumped the paddle to catch up. I always wax sentimental when I'm near the water; I've tried to just relax and enjoy the ride, but you know me. Always digging deeper.

And so, as David led the way, I started thinking about how he's literally ahead of me age-wise for always by about  seven years. And what that might mean for our future... See what I mean, journeying down a river gets you thinking.

Until you ramp up your kayak on a bunch of rocks and get stuck in the middle of the river. Then you just think about being stuck. Instead of struggling to break free, I asked David to stop for a trail mix break.

Soon, we broke free and kept on drifting. We saw a stately blue heron twice, but she always flew away in a flash. We saw two turtles, tons of minnows, and a few too many empty beer cans. And we got just close enough to see how big swans really are!

It's hard to believe it, but we were the only voyagers on the Rogue River today, until 4 local women met up with us toward the end, leaving us in their wake. They were just paddling down to a local restaurant for lunch.

And then we banked up on the shore, very close to the well-known Rockford dam. There are only two things I would try to remember if David and I do this kayaking thing again anytime soon: sunscreen, of course; and many, many questions to ask my husband while I have his captive attention and he has nothing else to think about. Nothing like trapping your man on the water to unearth deep relational riches. Spoken like a true woman.

Cheers!

Midwest Living, It's the Thing for Me

...Green Acres, it's the place to be. I've visited New York City (loved it!); Denver many times; Asheville, North Carolina (one of my favorites); Florida and California, Texas and Tennessee. I lived in Greenbelt, Maryland, once for the summer while commuting as an intern into DC. All of these experiences were exciting and noteworthy; I love travel and I love to experience new people, places, food, and culture. And I wouldn't mind living in many of the places I've visited.

But I live in the Midwest.

And let me ask you--where else can you...

* Leave your gas grill on your back patio without worrying about it being stolen.
* Share a common "green space" area with 30-40 neighbors.
* Wave and greet passerbys and bikers on the street without fear of being labeled a stalker.
* Hang your car keys on the wall at the local Y during your workout without fear they'll be taken.
(This one really amazes me!)
* Get virtually anywhere in your city in about 20 minutes.
* Find and buy fresh produce that comes from a field approximately 1 mile from your home.
* Go to a cheap theater where tickets are only $1--and just .50 one day each week!
* Enroll in an adult summer reading program at your library and get prizes for reading.
* Be within a few hundred miles of Amish country.
* Find churches of all sizes where God-fearing people sacrifice to share God's love with others.
* Get your fill of snow in the winter and warm weather in the summer, plus a beautiful autumn!

I'm not saying I don't wish for some of the buzz of the big city--I'm just saying life in middle America can be pretty darned good. Great, in fact.

Today, we leave for a short vacation up in Michigan, where we plan to give canoeing a try. We'll be sure to let you know if fun in the Midwest is all its cracked up to be.

Happy weekend to you...