More Estonia Photos!

Arriving in Estonia

The team left on Thursday. We dropped Erin off at the airport and the group took off about 3 p.m. She was excited, not too nervous - but we did get three hugs, so I think the reality of 12 days on another continent was sinking in. They were able to take the train into Stockholm during their seven hour layover. They are now in Tallin, Estonia. Here is an update from Kevin (team leader):

We made it! It is 12:30 p.m. and we're all settled in our rooms, our
tummies all full with McDonald's (the only thing that we could find open
that would be quick). The hotel and van arrangements went perfectly. Both
are very comfortable. The van is brand new and has plenty of room for all of
our luggage in the cargo area.
We were able to take the bullet train into Stockholm for a few hours
and toured Old Town and the royal palace. Other than the initial delays,
our travel went pretty smoothly.
We are planning to have breakfast at around 9:00 in the morning. Then
we are going to tour Olde Towne and hope to visit Lighthouse. We will drop
by the BMC to see anyone is there as well as Generation 2 at Aptik.
We'll plan to send another update tomorrow.

Momma Bird

Mother's Day came and went. I spent the entire week not thinking about it, and mostly wishing it would come and go. I've always thought Valentines Day, Mother's Day and Father's Day were mostly a day for the greeting card companies to convince us that we need to honor the people in our lives that we should be honoring every day anyway - and by the way purchase an overpriced card and some other stuff. I know, it's a little cynical. Kyle and I have a mutual agreement about Valentine's Day, but on Mother's Day and Father's Day I always enjoyed buying Mom and Dad something. Mom rarely shopped for herself because she'd much rather shop for other people. So buying her something was a wide open field. She didn't fit into the category of "what do you buy the person who has everything?"

So although my own children would be shopping for Mother's Day - albeit through the prompting of their Dad - I really didn't have much to think about on Mother's Day this year. Or so I thought.

It was a picture perfect Spring Day. We attended early church service and were out by 10 a.m. Kyle did stir-fry on the grill outside and I sat and watched (yes there are perks to Mother's Day). Under the awning and between the two floodlights on the patio is a snug little nest that the most persistent robin built. Her fortitude astounded us several weeks ago as she continued to bring in twigs and tuck them between the lights. We tried to tell her it was a risky place to build a nest - too close to human life and hot wires. Kyle kept tearing the half-built nest down and encouraging her to find another place. Like the stubborn mother bird that she is, she didn't listen. In fact, one evening she defied our efforts to protect her and built the nest. We woke up one morning to a complete nest with twigs, branches and the mysterious mud that holds it all together. It was done. Nothing to do but allow her to settle in and lay her eggs. Which is exactly what she did. Three little blue eggs. Now, part of the deal that we struck with Momma Bird was that her close proximity to us gave us the inalienable right to document her motherhood. Which we have...and continue to do.

In between stirring the stir-fry, Kyle took the camera and invaded the nest while Momma was out. I'm too short, and so the photos of the inside of the nest are his. I like to give credit where it's due. He snapped photos while Momma sat on the fence and fussed. As long as we don't touch the nest or the eggs or the baby birds, they are safe. So we're careful. We ate out on the patio and watched Momma as she sat on her eggs and tried to ignore us. She has a very determined look on her face, as you can see. We may be too close for her comfort, but she endured our human presence and stayed on that nest most of the day.

The kids gave me my Mother's Day - each of the three picked out their own gift: a CD from Colin (Bruce Springsteen Live...he did good) a book from Erin (always a good choice) and a book from Alison about mothers. It was all perfect and I loved each gift and the sweet attitudes the children had all day. No complaining, no rolling eyes, no arguments or whining. It was nice and I truly loved my gifts. But there was something about watching that Momma Bird that completed this day. A few times she perched on the side of the nest and just stared down into it. I don't suppose birds think, but I had to wonder. Was she waiting for them to peck out so she could see her babies? Was she worried about them? Was she wanting to make sure that hers was the first bird-face they would see when their eyes finally opened to the world? At one point, Daddy Bird (we're making assumptions here, but hoping) came to her and brought her a worm. Fed it straight to her from his beak to hers. Amazing. I hesitate to say that this chunky robin gave me a picture of motherhood on Mother's Day, but I'm saying it anyway. Maybe that's reaching, but I believe that God's creation can give us beautiful pictures if we'll just take the time to sit still and look around. I know...all creatures except humans survive and thrive and live on instinct. But instinct looked quite a bit like motherhood on Sunday, and it was worth watching for a while. And as I sat with my Mother's Day gifts on the table beside me and watched Momma Bird and her nest of babies, I mentally added them to my pile of gifts, and said a prayer of thanks for such a beautiful world.

Yes, I missed my own mother. But I knew that if she had been sitting there with me, she would have understood that even though the purchased gifts are nice, the gifts that we can't buy are the best. She was that kind of mother.

Healed and Home

Since childhood, I have prayed for my mother to be healed of diabetes. As a young child, I simply prayed that the diabetes would go away. As I grew physically and spiritually, my prayers became focused on staving off the ravages of this cruel disease: "please don't let her suffer kidney failure," "please give her strength to endure the dialysis," "please let her circulation stay strong so that limbs don't have to be removed." The prayers were all there - sometimes wrapped in one encompassing prayer: "Take care of Mother."

In God's perfect timing, he knew when it was time to answer the ultimate prayer of healing. He answered that prayer on Sunday, April 20. God always answers prayer, but perhaps not in the way that we might envision. My mother did suffer kidney failure, but not until she was 61 years old, after living with diabetes for 41 years. And the dialysis was terribly hard on her body and heart, but she did it for 10 years - a long time for a dialysis patient. And her circulation failed in the extremities of her body, and she had to have limbs removed...three surgeries. No, my prayers were not answered the way the I imagined, but God gave us something so much deeper and wider than granting my requests for an easy life. Her body was worn out and I know that she was ready to go, but yet she never complained. She never questioned or wavered in her faith. Sitting confined to the wheelchair, she would still say, "God has been so good to me." And she meant it. We have seen a living example of rock solid trust in God that was lived out despite great pain and suffering. Mother died at home, literally in the arms of my father. She slipped out of this world - shedding the broken and worn out body that had stayed so strong for 71 years. She left my father's arms and with new legs walked into the arms of her heavenly Father. I like to think that she ran - on legs that are strong and eternal. Our dear friend Calvin Miller said during her eulogy: "I bet Betty is dancing and saying, 'if only you could see me now.'" I know that she is.

I could ask a thousand questions of God - not the least of which is, "why didn't my mother get the opportunity to enjoy a healthy body for her entire life?" "Why did God give her a body that would struggle to make it to 71 years?" - which doesn't really seem very old after all. "Why?" But those questions really have no answers. Life is full of the unanswerable. If I open my eyes and begin to look at this world, the "why" questions are endless. God walks where I am walking. He knows the pain of death. He knows the sorrow of loss. He did not spare himself from it, so I must believe that there is something beautiful and redeeming about pain and suffering. I don't understand it. In fact, most of it is a mystery. But my mother - who is dancing on two strong legs, understands it completely.

Changes

In the next few days, I will have my new website up and running, complete with a blog. I am unsure whether this blog will continue and be a link from the website, or whether I will create a new blog for the website. For me, the jury is still out on blogging. It can become a tremendously self-serving thing - and can create the illusion that you are connecting with people when in fact it would be easier to connect by email or, heaven forbid, face to face contact. When I count up the time that I spend in front of this screen as opposed to getting out and being with people, I begin to realize the danger of the computer. I'm a marginal Facebook user. I mostly use it to connect with college friends I haven't seen in twenty years, and friends who live far away. So I discipline myself not to hang out on it when I could be out doing some much more productive. Blogging often feels the same way. I've heard plenty of anti-blog people give very good arguments against them, and I am almost convinced. The problem is, in my blogroll I have blogs listed that I read. Most of my blogroll friends are like me, and only blog about once a week, but I love to read their once-a-week posts, and I would be sad if they cut me off from their lives and dumped their blogs. So I'll keep a blog in some form, perhaps without the comments because I really hate that part of blogging. As a writer, It's sort of like asking for a critique of your writing every time you publish something - with the negative critique simply being the lovely little "0 comment" flashing at the bottom of your post for four straight days. Actually it's worse because you're never really certain if someone has read it and just didn't get it or like it - or if no one has read it at all. Anyway, most of that sounds like whining, and this post is starting to sound like a rambling blogger who has nothing more to do than sit at her computer and blab to no one in particular.
So - I'll take my uncertainty about blogging and keep turning it around in my mind for a while. Care to comment?

Books in Queue

These days, I'm reading two books at once. I've always had a real aversion to this. Erin does it, only it's usually three or four books at a time. I'm far too linear, and have always been afraid that I would confuse the contents of one book with another - merging a murder mystery with a how-to book...not good. But I have about 15 books stacked up, waiting on the "to read" shelf and so I've been forced to double up, since four of them are books I must read for a project. I'm interested in them, but I'm trying to balance out each of the two books I'm reading at once. For instance, I've been reading a book called "A Crime So Monstrous: Face to Face With Modern Day Slavery" by Benjamin Skinner, and along with it "Prayer: Does it Really Matter?" by Philip Yancey. This seems to be a balanced combination, although I find myself wondering if praying about the fact that there are 27 million slaves worldwide - a large percentage of them children -is nothing more than an exercise in futility. Yet, as Yancey says in this book, "What is the point of prayer if not to express our heart's desire, especially when it matches we know to be God's will on earth? Who knows what will happen when we pray what we know God desires?" So as I read about slavery in Haiti, Africa, Eastern Europe, India, and yes, the United States, I feel as if I should do something....prayer may seem futile, but it IS something. The fusion of these two books seems to be the right chemistry to take me out of my small little world.

I finished the book about slavery several nights ago, and am pages away from finishing Philip Yancey's book. I highly recommend both of these books. So what's in queue? Not sure yet. I'm still looking for the right chemistry between two books on my "to read" shelf. Stay tuned.

A Gift

Yesterday was one of those "ugh" days. It was rainy and messy, and we had kid issues and I had articles that just wouldn't write themselves. By the time the afternoon rolled around and the teenagers got home, I was ready for bed. About 5:30 p.m. someone rang the doorbell. A man was standing on the porch holding this octagonal stained glass window. I was not in the mood for buying anything so I tried to look pleasant when I opened the door. He introduced himself as Noel, and said that he lived in the neighborhood. I kept smiling, waiting for the sales pitch. Noel said he had driven by our house quite a bit (we live on a main drag) and had noticed our octagonal window in the front. I should mention that I never liked that octagonal window, and had thought several times lately that it needed a round stained glass in it. But just as I had decided that, I had also taken a vow of House Decor Poverty. In my efforts to curb the ugly monster of consumerism, I have looked around my house and decided that I have "enough." My walls are aren't blank, we have furniture to sit on and coverings over our windows and full bookshelves. So I decided not to pursue round stained glass. But then here was Noel standing on my front porch, and I was sure he was going to give me a sales pitch that I needed to buy this perfect octagonal stained glass he held in his hand. But that's not what he said. He told me he had purchased this stained glass in Branson, but recently one of his parishioners had given him a stained glass that he had hung in place of this one. "So I thought I would offer it to you." He said, smiling. I'm sorry to tell you what my response was:

"How much?" I asked.

He looked puzzled and held it out to me. "I don't want you to pay me for it. You can have it...if you want it." Honestly, I didn't know how to respond. I was waiting for the catch. But he just stood there holding out the stained glass to me and smiling. I took it.

Noel is the former rector at a local Episcopal church not far from our house. Now I don't know if rectors in Episcopalian churches regularly hear from God any more than pastors in Methodist churches. But whether he knows it or not, Reverend Noel listened to God. Every day we have choices to make. We can make the easy choice and put the stained glass in the Goodwill donation box, or the riskier choice of noticing that someone else might have a place for it, and show up at their doorstep out of the blue on a rainy Monday afternoon. If it were me, I think that piece of stained glass would probably be sitting in my Goodwill donation box. I didn't really NEED the stained glass, but I kind of needed a little boost - a gift to remind me that God is near, and loving us through the hearts and hands of other people. I don't have that many serendipitous occurrences in my life, at least not ones that I notice. But God gave me one yesterday and reminded me how something so simple can mean so much. God provides us with all that we need. "Don't fret", Jesus says in the gospel of Matthew, "God knows what you need and he'll provide it for you." That's my paraphrase. So God provided a little something yesterday: a little stained glass and gentle reminder to be a blessing for someone else...even if it's a tad risky.

Thank you Reverend Noel. I'm so grateful that you listened.

Guatemala and Mexico

World Water Day

Women carry water in Bangladesh


And in Ethiopia


Today, March 22, is World Water Day.

I vividly remember a hotel in Los Angeles near the airport where our family checked in after a long flight from Guangzhou, China. We dumped our suitcases on the bed and I immediately walked into the bathroom, turned on the faucet and started drinking water straight from the tap...just because I could. We had been in China two weeks drinking bottled water, boiling our drinking water, and being careful to use purified water to brush our teeth. Even in the shower, we closed our mouths.

In our country, turning on the tap and placing a cup beneath means almost nothing to us. It's just the way it is. In most countries, drinking water means everything because it's a matter of life and death. Here's an amazing fact: Count to 15. Now count to 15 again. Two children just died from a water-related disease. For children under the age of five, water-related diseases are the leading cause of death and a child under age five dies every 15 seconds from one. At any given time, half of the world's hospital beds are occupied by patients suffering from a water-related disease. Less than one percent of the world's fresh water (about 0.007% of all water on earth) is readily accessible for direct human use. A person needs 4-5 gallons of water per day to survive. The average American uses 100-176 gallons of water at home each day. These facts amaze me, and now when I brush my teeth I turn off the water instead of letting it run down the sink. That simple amount of water could mean life or death for a child. Could it save a child's life in another part of the world by turning off the teeth-brushing water? I don't know. But at the very least it is a reminder that this resource that I take for granted and rarely give thought to is something that women in countries like Ethiopia will walk three hours to get, and more often than not the water they bring back is from a polluted source.

When I began hearing about our church's work digging water wells in Tanzania, I had no idea of the world water crisis, and so I was largely ignorant of the fact that what we are doing saves lives. I just thought we were making things more convenient for them. I've seen photos of the water that these Tanzanians drink - brown, sludgy and certainly filled with all kinds of microscopic bugs that I wouldn't want planted in my intestines - and the water that now comes from the new water wells - clear, clean and life-saving.

For more information about World Water Day and the world's water crisis, you can click the title of this post and it will direct you to a great website with information. Here is how I see it: if almost two in three people in the world lack access to clean water, then those of us who call ourselves Believers should at the very least be aware of the facts. I'm not trying to be preachy, but if we claim that "God so loved the world" - then we must believe that this breaks His heart, and it should break ours as well. I know for myself that just turning off the water while I am brushing my teeth isn't enough, so I will be researching other ways to be a good steward of the water that is at my fingertips. We, who have so much must share the resources. This means that we don't treat what we have as if it our right to waste it or use it up. There are those of you that are reading this and lifting an eyebrow because you have been to my house, and you know what sits right outside the back door. Yes, I have a large swimming pool in my backyard...so I'm even more culpable for waste and more responsible for water use. So perhaps it is time for me to pretend that I am back in the Phoenix desert and 'learn how to preserve'. Happy World Water Day.

Finally...

After all those guitar lessons, and Geoff Logan's attempts to get Colin to practice, practice, practice, and our hounding him to turn off the amp after 10 p.m....he finally ventured out and found a band. This is their first concert at a record shop called Under the Mooch. if you can stick with the video long enough, Colin has a guitar solo. By the way, if you don't know him, he's the guy in the gray t-shirt....with the short hair. They write most of their own stuff, and play quite a bit of folkish acoustic, which I got on video but am not posting because I'll probably get in trouble for posting this much. But Colin is in Guatemala. He'll never know...

Well Done, Old Man

I remember the day we got Raleigh. It was January in Phoenix, and the weather was perfect - sunny and mild, no wind, and we drove to the the animal shelter which was about 20 miles away. The shelter had confirmed that morning that they had a Lab mix puppy, actually a six-month old, but still technically a puppy. We hurried across the city with 5 year-old Colin and 4 year-old Erin, tossing around names on the way. We settled on Raleigh on our way back home, after the shelter worker had trotted out the black puppy with the white streak down his chest, and after we had signed paperwork and paid the requisite $50. Raleigh panted with excitement all the way home, and from that day forward he was our dog. He's been with us through two states, three moves and the addition of another child. He weathered thunderstorms and ice storms and blazing hot days. He accepted the encroachment of his territory by one grumpy black cat and a Westie named Pierre. He mostly lived outside, because that was his domain, and he was our sentry guard.

In Phoenix, we lived near a busy thoroughfare in the central part of the city. We decided to get a dog because the kids were a good age for a pet, and we wanted a reliable security system. Raleigh seemed to instinctively know that his purpose was to guard the perimeter of our backyard, whether it was located in Phoenix or Tulsa. Every house we have lived in has been protected by our faithful Black Lab/Border Collie mix. It was as if he knew his job description, and yet he rose far above it. Not only was he our watchdog, but he played with our children, learned to sit, shake and catch a tennis ball in his mouth when you threw it softly to him. He was gentle with the new puppy, and tolerant of the cat's hissing on the few occasions that he came inside the house. He really wasn't much of an inside dog. He paced and panted and showered the furniture legs. But every now and then we invited him in but it wasn't too long until it became apparent that he preferred being outside where he could roam the backyard and make sure he was fulfilling his protective role. In his later years he became afraid of thunderstorms, but that was about the only sign of old age that we saw. He still loved a brisk walk around the block and would prance like a puppy when Kyle walked out the back door every morning with his canned dog food. He savored food. He was one of those wise dogs that didn't swallow table scraps in one gulp, but instead took his time and enjoyed every bite. He loved a shoulder massage, and would melt into a laying position the longer you rubbed him. He hated baths, and as soon as he saw the hose come toward him, he would slink toward the garage until he was dragged back out into the middle of the yard. Our pool cleaning guy never liked him, but that's because Raleigh was always on duty - and refused to acknowledge that the guy had any right to enter our backyard if he didn't live here.

Two weeks ago, he was his usual healthy self, then he stopped eating. For a dog that savored food, it was a red flag. Turns out he had a tumor on his spleen, but the vet did surgery, removed it and deemed it non-malignant. We were relieved, and brought him home to recoup from the surgery. In a couple of days his paws swelled, and a few days later he could hardly walk. We took him back to the vet, and she discovered he had a valve blockage in his heart. Nothing could be done. He was miserable. So we said good-bye to him yesterday. Kyle gave him one last shoulder massage, the girls have him ear rubs, I kissed his nose, and then the doctor gave him a shot that slid him into a permanent state of sleep. He felt no pain, took five last breaths, flicked his tail and was gone. It's amazing how our pets become a part of our family, and when they are gone for good you feel a dreary kind of emptiness. Dogs give, and ask for very little in return (can't say the same for the cat). They are faithful to the last moment of their lives. You can always see it in their eyes.

Alison sat at the breakfast table this morning and through tears tried to come up with some positive spins: we'll spend less money on dog food, and Pierre can have the whole backyard. I never thought I'd say it, but I'd take the stinky dog bed back, and spend the money on the canned dog food, and listen to him bark at the helicopters and the planes if I could just see him catch that tennis ball in his mouth one more time. Fare well Raleigh dog. We'll see you on the other side.

Refreshed

There are those people who are like a breath of fresh air. They refresh the heart and the spirit through laughter and long conversations. Instead of depleting, they fill us up. We've just spent four days with friends like this, Shannon and Kenny, and although I am tired (lots of late night conversation), these days have been like taking a deep, cleansing breath. I love our friends, and feel it is just not right that we live so far away from each other. We have both prayed that God would allow us to live closer together, but God has kept them in Phoenix and we will stay in Tulsa, and so it is not the season for them to be Okies, or us to be Arizonans (we've been there and done that). So we cherish the snatches of time we have together, and wring all the best out of the moments. It was a great four days. We did a little moving, some home improvement projects, they watched our slide shows of Ethiopia and Azerbaijan trips (only true friends would do this), ate at Cafe Ole, sat with Mom, had dinner with Dad, and they made our kids laugh. They are treasures, and we are blessed.

A Friend Indeed

There are those times when you send out a silent SOS, praying for a little relief, and someone hears. My best friend heard. About a month ago, when Mom was about to have her first amputation surgery, Shannon heard something in my voice that made her book a flight to Tulsa. She gave me a choice of two dates, one immediately and one in about a month. I chose the one in about a month - March 7, because I thought if things got worse we might be hanging on by our fingernails. Which we are. So tomorrow she is coming, just when I need her most. This road is proving to be longer than we anticipated, and we are tired and in great need of someone who will come and give us some help, some laughter, some perspective, and a few tears and hugs.

I believe that it is an amazing blessing to have that one friend who is as close as a friend can get. That's Shannon. In fact, we're such good friends that I'm not even cleaning my house for her. She's bringing her husband Kenny, at my request, because on Saturday we are going to try to move a few pieces of furniture into Mom and Dad's new house. Hospital sit-ins, furniture moving, cold Oklahoma weather, a dirty house. And they are actually excited about coming. That's true friendship.

Around the Corner

I like to know what's coming. Some people prefer the element of surprise, and they tackle life with the posture of someone in the front seat of a roller coaster: eyes open, arms up, screams of excitement. They don't mind that they can't see the impossibly steep drop that appears after ambling through the dark tunnel. That just makes it more adventurous. They greet the drop with shouts of exuberance. I'm not so much this way. In fact, if someone was kind enough to take me on a preliminary walking tour of the roller coaster route, mapping out the drops and hairpin turns and upside down loops and preparing me for the unexpected jolts, I would welcome it. Then I could ride the roller coaster having been adequately prepared. Of course, that begs the question of whether I would proceed to actually ride the roller coaster if I knew it was going to slam me against the side of the car on that hairpin turn or hang me upside down on a double loop. Maybe I would walk away and opt for driving the Model T's that follow a scenic and safe track at 5 miles per hour. I've always liked those.

These days, I feel like I'm walking in the dark, wondering what might be around the next corner - maybe a drop or a hairpin turn. I'm working on this "one day at a time" idea, and it's going pretty well. I'm getting better at not worrying about tomorrow because "tomorrow has enough trouble of its own." I'm learning to suck the life out of today so that I don't spend all my time regretting yesterday or stressing about tomorrow. But there are those days when I just would really like a walking tour of all that lies ahead. I'd like to map out the scary moments, the dark days, the anxious hours. If I just knew what was coming that would make life so much easier. It's a tempting thought, but I know it's not true. How many times would I have locked myself in my bedroom if I had known what was getting ready to happen? Or not taken that trip. Or not begun that relationship. If I had known about all the tough times that were around this corner or that corner I would have run the other way. And, I would have never known what it means to walk by faith.

My wedding program (almost nineteen years old now) is a tri-fold and on the center fold is printed this poem:

"God does not lead us year by year,
Nor even day by day,
But step by step our path unfolds,
Our Lord directs our way.

Tomorrow's plans we do not know,
We only know this minute.
But He will say, 'This is the way,
By faith now walk ye in it.

And we are glad that it is so;
Today is ours to share,
And when tomorrow comes, his grace
Shall far exceed its care.

What need to worry then or fret?
The God who have His only Son
Holds all our moments in His hand
And gives them one by one."

So I'm learning that thank God for those moments - whether they are good, or bad. Whether they slam me against the side of the car or send me reeling up into the air gasping for breath. He's with me every step, ready to sustain me for whatever is around the next corner.

Funny How Time Slips Away

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Yes, it's been a long while since I have posted. And no, I haven't given up blogging for Lent, although the idea might be appealing. I wrote this post on Monday the 18th, but didn't publish until today, Sunday the 24th. I really have been trying to decide if I'm blogging because I'm writing, or if I'm writing because of my blog. Years ago, when I got into scrapbooking (I got back out quickly), I found myself taking pictures so that I could scrapbook, which seemed backwards. I should have been scrapbooking because I took pictures. So I don't want the blog to be the thing that drives the writing. Instead, the writing should drive the blog. Yes, I've become too philosophical about it. Maybe the real reason that I haven't posted is because I have been a bit busy cleaning out drawers and closets at my parent's house. We are moving Mom and Dad closer to us, which is turning out to be a good decision, because my mother continues to have operations to amputate her limbs. She is having another amputation tomorrow, and they will also be re-amputating her other leg, which sounds impossible but basically means that they will be removing more of the leg. So in the midst of the surgeries and the recovery and adjusting to a completely new way of living, we have also been taking a few jaunts down Memory Lane.

The passing of time is mysterious. Sometimes it feels like life is creeping along, and sometimes we turn around and wonder where time went. As we prepare for the move, we've found old photos that I had never seen. They were stuffed in a chest and dresser, destined for obscurity - probably the dumpster - and so we decided to go through them with "toss" and "keep" bags. I found the photos in plastic bags, envelopes, thrown loosely in small boxes. And when you're cleaning out drawers and closets that contain old photos, there is just no good way to do it quickly. It takes time to sit and soak in the time and place and moment when the photo was taken. As I looked through all these photos, I was taken back to sights and smells and sounds that I thought were gone. And I saw faces that had faded from memory. My Aunt Mary's image had become a blur, and suddenly there she was in a blue dress with pearl clip-on earrings. And even my own childhood face had been a little lost with the passing of time. Did I really wear sponge rollers as I pedaled around the neighborhood on my bike? I didn't remember that. And was there really an era where young mothers wore ponchos and headscarves...on vacation??? There was my mother staring out from the faded images of the old photos...young, healthy, with two legs and her whole life in front of her. She has fleeting moments of wanting to give up these days, but we tell her that she can't because we need her and because life can go on without legs, and because she is still the same person regardless of what parts of her body are removed. As I look at the pictures, I wonder if my words sound empty to her. As she told me last night, "this isn't happening to YOU, it's happening to ME." And she is right. It is her body, and I can't feel what she is feeling. So all I could say to her was, "Let's just take it one day at a time...one moment at a time." So now, the passing of time seems to be creeping along because we aren't going to allow ourselves to look too far ahead these days. Just a day - a moment at a time. But we're doing it together. We're still making memories even though we have aged and changed since the old photos were taken.

Time passes. Life goes on. And God has brought us to this place because there is still life to live and so we will live it. It makes me realize that I simply must start taking more photos of these days. Because time has a habit of slipping away.

Happy Year of the Rat!!

Chinese New Year begins today and lasts about 15 days. And it's the year of the Rat.

Ever since I learned to love Chinese food in high school, I've loved reading the Chinese Zodiac placemats. Usually you find these at the less fancy restaurants (and Royal Dragon in Tulsa), but I always go through everyone whose birth year I know and compare the traits with the person. And amazingly the Zodiac seems to be pretty accurate. I'm a Snake. Here is my Zodiac:"Rich in wisdom and charm, you are romantic and deep thinking and your intuition guides you strongly. Avoid procrastination and your stingy attitude towards money. Keep your sense of humor about life. The Snake would be most content as a teacher, philosopher, writer, psychiatrist, and fortune teller." See? Pretty right on except for the romantic part. And I would never say I'm stingy with money - I'm just thrifty. But of course it's oh so true about that wisdom and charm. And who wouldn't agree completely that their Zodiac is accurate when it starts with those traits. You see how these things work, don't you?
Kyle and Alison are dragons: "Full of vitality and enthusiasm, the Dragon is a popular individual even with the reputation of being foolhardy and a "big mouth" at times. You are intelligent, gifted, and a perfectionist but these qualities make you unduly demanding on others. You would be well-suited to be an artist, priest, or politician." Absolutely, they would agree that this is accurate. Gifted and intelligent. Who would argue? Not sure that either one of them are foolhardy or big mouths. Although Colin would say that Kyle is a great "lecturer", so maybe not a bigmouth, but long-winded....? See, this can be a dangerous exercise and we've gotten into more than one heated discussion over the placemats.
You can read how accurate your Chinese Zodiac is if you click the title link.

I'm not sure how we'll celebrate Chinese New Year. Last year, we were invited by Chinese friends to the Buddhist Temple, and that was interesting. We were floating on the incense by the time the service was finished, and Alison had learned to bow every time the gong sounded. She was like Pavlov's dog. We're not much in the celebrating mode this year, so maybe we'll just find one of those placemats and talk about each other's Zodiac traits.

So if you aren't familiar with Chinese New Year, here are the facts:

Chinese New Year is the longest and most important celebration in the Chinese calendar.
The Chinese year 4706 begins on Feb. 7, 2008.
Chinese months are reckoned by the lunar calendar, with each month beginning on the darkest day.
New Year festivities traditionally start on the first day of the month and continue until the fifteenth, when the moon is brightest.
In China, people may take weeks of holiday from work to prepare for and celebrate the New Year.
Legend has it that in ancient times, Buddha asked all the animals to meet him on Chinese New Year. Twelve came, and Buddha named a year after each one. He announced that the people born in each animal's year would have some of that animal's personality.
Chinese New Year ends with the lantern festival on the fifteenth day of the month. Some of the lanterns may be works of art, painted with birds, animals, flowers, zodiac signs, and scenes from legend and history. People hang glowing lanterns in temples, and carry lanterns to an evening parade under the light of the full moon.
In many areas the highlight of the lantern festival is the dragon dance. The dragon—which might stretch a hundred feet long—is typically made of silk, paper, and bamboo. Traditionally the dragon is held aloft by young men who dance as they guide the colorful beast through the streets. In the United States, where the New Year is celebrated with a shortened schedule, the dragon dance always takes place on a weekend. In addition, many Chinese-American communities have added American parade elements such as marching bands and floats.

Happy Chinese New Year!!

We're All Sick! (Except Erin)

Fortunately, only one of us has a Man Cold.

We Were There

In October 2005, we traveled to Houston to see these guys. Every concert since then has been kind of a downer. Kyle and I go way back with U2. All the way to about 1984. We remember when Bono had really big hair and wore boots with heels and Edge had hair and Larry Mullen Jr. didn't look like a truck driver. But it doesn't matter. They are timeless. I think what I like best about them is that they are still relevant and they're what some might call "middle-aged." So there.

We were planning to be at this theatrical experience soon after it opened at the IMAX, but we haven't made it yet. Have a few other things on our plate. But soon...we'll be there.

This is True Love

It's official. I have seen true love and now know that my dad is still, after 52 years, completely and totally in love with my mom. How do I know this? I've seen it demonstrated in the most self-sacrificial ways over the past six months. He never complains, never gets down, never whines. He is gentle, upbeat and never shies away from the difficult tasks of caring for her. But now I know the extent of that love reaches further than I had imagined. How do I know this? I know this because yesterday he bought a mini-van. Actually, it's call an Entervan. It's a wheelchair accessible van with an automatic lift and a lowered floor. I had no previous knowledge of these kinds of vans. I've seen them here and there but mostly thought them to be an aberration of the "normal" mini-van like the one I drive. I've not once given them a second thought. But that's the way these things work, so the nice salesman who sold us the van said. "Until you need one, you never think about one." So true. Now, suddenly, I know more than I would ever want to about Entervans - wheelchair accessible doors, the Braun lift system, the E-Z Lock tiedown system. I would rather not know these things, but now I do. And so does my Dad.

He said he would never buy a mini-van...too clunky...didn't need one...liked his Buick, etc. In one day, we arranged to sell that precious Buick and walked on the lot of the National Car Rental and bought this van. My Dad has never in his life bought an automobile that way. He shops cars like he does grocery stores - traipsing from one dealer to the next in search of the Deal of the Century. And he usually finds it, then bargains his way down to a price that he can brag about. I do believe this way of buying cars is in the Dad Handbook. So this is love - to walk onto a lot, buy a vehicle (a MINI-VAN!) in just under one hour, and pay-off the Buick and arrange to have it sold in the same day.

Tough times should change us, grow us, make us better and draw us into a deeper relationship with God. I am working on not being afraid and I am stifling the urge to turn and run from it all. Someone I respect greatly who has studied the Bible and meditated on it a great deal says that: "Learning to suffer well just might be the most important part of the journey of faith." So I am trying to learn what it means to suffer well. We all are. Is buying a mini-van part of this learning process? I guess that's a theological question for someone else, but I do know this: My Buick Dad is excited about this mini-van - this vehicle he said he would never buy. He's not grinding his teeth about it or grumbling about the price. He's proud of this new van, and he hasn't blinked once about selling the Buick. That's true love.

There's Just Something About That Wall...

I'm sitting here watching a Discovery Channel special about the Great Wall and remembering what an amazing experience it was to be "climbing" the wall. And yes, it is a climb. The incline is very steep in places and we were groaning and panting while Chinese men and women decades older than were sprinting up with hardly a whimper. The Chinese are people of great fortitude and endurance. It took over 2,000 years to build this wall - which is not one continuous wall as most people think, but many walls built over many centuries. Peasant laborers were used, but no modern-day machinery. Instead, bricks were laid by hand. Just to give you an idea of how many bricks and stone were used in just the Ming Dynasty portion of the wall, they could circle the earth at five feet high. Millions of Chinese died during the construction of just the portion of the wall built during the Qin Dynasty. During that time, 70 percent of the population was involved in building the wall.

It's amazing to think about how crucial the wall is to the identity of China and its people. Everyone knows that it was built to keep people out of China...now the wall brings people into China. It truly is a wonder. Alison, who has never seen the wall, always tells people it is her favorite thing about China. I don't know what it is about the wall, but it seems to embody everything that is amazing about the Chinese people and their complicated and magnificent history. A group of us are going back in 2010 to bring our beautiful Chinese daughters back to their birthland, and yes we will climb the great wall again. I want Alison to see it. Tonight at dinner she said, "China is such a cool place," and I agreed with her as I always do because I want her to be proud of her birth country and the Chinese people. But I have to wonder what China really means to her, this place that defines her in so many ways, yet a place that is lost to her memory. This place called China is a mystery to her...as it is to all of us.

These photos of us at the Great Wall were taken in 2001, two days before we held Alison in our arms for the first time. The next time we climb this wall, she'll climb it with us.

This Girl's Family

Four nights ago we met my Dad at Steak n Ale because they had a special on prime rib. I think he just wanted to get away from the hospital for a little while so he could feel somwhat normal again. We had a great dinner. He told stories - some we had heard, some were new - and the teenagers actually enjoyed listening along with the rest of us. We laughed and skipped down memory lane. I drove him back to the hospital, and on the way there he said, "There are those times when it hits you how much you need your family." My Dad is a tough old guy. He doesn't like to admit that he needs anyone's help. He is determined, and if you tell him something is impossible, he'll do his best to prove you wrong. But he knows that he'd be lost without his family. So would I.

They say you can choose your friends but not your family and this is true. But I believe that God has blessed me with people that I would probably choose anyway. We're all a little quirky, none of us perfect, but we all seem to fit together as if it were divinely ordained. Imagine that. During my turbulent teenaged years, I convinced myself that I just didn't fit into this family because they were not my blood relatives. I felt as if I were the square peg in a family of round holes. But so many people have been grafted into this family of mine over the years and I have realized that God has placed us together to hang on to one another whether we share the same genes or not. My Dad is right, we need each other, even if some of us are so independent that we often don't realize it. So here is my family. I love them. And I'd choose them all over again if God hadn't already given them to me as a precious gift.

An Invitation

I don't really like to write a blog post that means absolutely nothing to certain people, so I'm not going to do that. But for some of you, portions of this post will mean absolutely nothing. But please keep reading. At this point I don't know how long I'll ramble and there just might be something for everyone.

If you have a Senior High student at Asbury Church in Tulsa, your student has been asked to bring art supplies for the patients at a psychiatric hospital in Central Asia. I can't get anymore specific than that since this post will travel far and wide. But if this part of the post applies to you, you'll know the details of the place.

In Luke 14: 12-13, Jesus, while dining at a Pharisee's house, tells the guests that when they have a banquet it really doesn't count if they invite friends, brothers, relatives or rich neighbors because those people can always return the invitation. Instead, he says, invite the poor, crippled, lame and the blind because they can't repay you - and your reward will come from God, not from man. So the Senior high students at Asbury are inviting the psychiatric patients to the banquet. They are doing something practical for them that most people would never do because most people have decided that these people don't matter...they don't count. But they matter to God, and they count in the kingdom of God, and so they deserve an invitation. So the students are collecting art supplies to send with two of their own when they travel there in the Spring. The patients take art classes, and create beautiful works of art, and our students want to encourage them to continue to develop their talent. The students are learning that the kingdom of God is open to everyone - even (especially?) those that society has tossed aside. As teenagers, they are tempted to put people into categories of those that matter, and those that don't matter. If we can get them to think upside down (because the kingdom of God is all about upside down) then they can help change the world. Sound dramatic? I don't think so. We'll see.

So anyway, if you have a Senior high student, ask them about the list of art supplies, tell them to go shopping and bring the supplies by March 9. Help us help our students invite these precious patients to the banquet. It's going to be a great party.

And Now For Something Completely Different

My mom is stil doing well. Thanks again to all of you who have prayed, visited, sent food, flowers and cards. We have such awesome family and friends!!!

Sometimes you just need some comic relief. My friend Donna posted some photos on her blog of her kids playing in the Mac Photobooth. I agree with her that the Photobooth is one of the great things about having a Mac. So I'm posting some photos of our kids playing in Photobooth. It seems like I never am able to post photos of Colin, because he can't keep a straight face in a photo. So here he is, although as you can tell, these are certainly not straight-faced photos. When our Internet was down, Colin and the guys spent part of an evening taking photos of themselves. After the last several days, it seems like a good time for something mindless, and no one does mindless better than teenagers!!