Slater Made Me Cry

I have actually said this more than once in the last couple of months. If you bug me to, I will blog more about why later.

And tonight it happened again. But I can't post comments on his blog anymore to tell him he made me cry. And I understand and respect why--but I had to put it somewhere.

Slater made me cry. In a good way. Go read it if you haven't yet. It's not boring.

Yeah, yeah. A real post later. Soon. Maybe. We'll see. It's 6:07 PM MST and I can't keep my eyes open. Does this tell you anything?

I'm okay. Truly. Happy, even. Weird, I know.

Persistent Widows

Wow--I think have surrounded myself with lots of persistent widows. Apparently, beating at the door over and over again can work.

Tony got the visa.

Oh, my goodness. Glory to God. Thanks to all of you for your prayers. And thanks to MANY of you for good counsel, patient listening, and for not stuffing me in a barrel on several occasions over the past many months. You are all too good to me.

Can you believe it was almost a year ago that Tony and I met? It will be a year in January. Amazing.

Thank you again, and love and kisses all around :)

And sorry to my mommy for all her new gray hairs over waiting for the outcome on this ;)

Prayer by Monday Night, Please

I have been wanting to type about this for two weeks, but haven't been able to make myself. It's a long story why. Anyway, now it's down to the wire. And tonight will likely be my last decent sleep for this week, so I am going to keep this brief. Thank heavens we know each other well enough that I can just cut to the chase. And if it's out here, then you'll want to know the answers to the prayers, and that will make be blog again. Convenient, eh?

1. Tony applies for a visa again--time #3--Tuesday morning 8:00 AM in Uganda. That's 10:00 PM Monday night Pacific Time for most of you (you majority of West Coasties, you). Please pray. If it's granted, he'll be here for a visit in December. I can't even begin to explain how I am feeling, but it you drew a graph and then splattered paint all over it Jackson-Pollock-style, you'd pretty much a chart of where my brain and heart have been about this--all over the place. I have no idea what condition I will be in Tuesday morning after I hear from Tony, whether the answer is yes or no. I don't want to think about it right now.

So will you pray with us, please?

2. I have officially signed papers, as of this afternoon, to purchase a house in Boise. Escrow is set to close November 29. I leave for California this Thursday, November 8. I return to Idaho Saturday, November 24. If Tony gets the visa, he arrives December 5.

Do you see the fun ahead? Oh my. And, oh yeah, it's a bit o' a financial stretch. Can you pray for the process, please? I know Slater can :)

Thanks. I will yammer more later, but for now--please pray, friends. Thank you, and love to all.

What Else Am I Gonna Do?

Like Michael, I should have been able to work just fine today--I don't live in California, I don't have a home I own there to worry about anymore, and the people I love most are safely off the mountain. But did I get a lick of anything productive done today? Nope.

I am as addicted to the updates as anyone, my boss and dear friend who lives in Crestline is in Nairobi so his sweet wife had to evacuate alone and I have been helping keep track of her, I have had good conversations with Mom, Michael, Liann, and Holly, and have been letting the dozens of people who have stopped by my desk, emailed, or called to ask about my family know that they are okay and thank you for praying. Every few minutes I remember someone else I know and love on that mountain and wonder how they are. Add to that the just plain funny feeling of not being there with my family and friends right now.

Nope. Not so much getting my MAF job done at the moment. Need to fix that tomorrow.

In the midst of it all, I continued my house hunting today in Meridian and Boise. How obtuse is that? Liann's home is likely gone at this point, and Michael's is in serious jeopardy as I type, and I am house hunting?

Maybe I need to get a really big one so everyone can come stay with me :)

Prayers and love to all, especially those in So Cal. I prayed with my work team this morning as a reminder to myself that God is sovereign--not an angry, impetuous sovereignty, but a perfect, holy, grace-beyond-measure sovereignty. Praises and thanks to Him in the midst of all.

Good Night, Walt

We'll see you soon.

Walter Houston Slusser, Paw-Paw to Michael and me, passed away Wednesday, October 10. Happily, we know he went home to Jesus, so in eternal terms, it won't be long until we are all catching up again, hugging and listening to stories about Paw-Paw's days as a railroad detective, WWII Navy mechanic, and filling station owner (ever wonder why I am partial to Chevron? Paw-Paw owned a station for 23 years).

His most important roles? Being the love of my grandmother's life for 62 years and the father of four children, my wonderful daddy included.

After a very healthy and full life, Paw-Paw struggled with Alzheimer's Disease over the past 4 years or so, then a serious deterioration in his general health over the past 10 months. The picture below is from 2005--his body was still good, but the mind was melding memories from the past when he spoke. Joanna and my cousin and I were not granddaughters in his mind anymore, but sweet, pretty girls who came to listen to him tell about his successes and exploits in his younger days.


He had been in convalescent care since June of this year, and was about half the weight he is in these pictures. Mom and Dad asked me to come down when he was moved into professional care after I got home from Uganda in June, because it looked then like he might not be with us for too long. He actually started to thrive a little, however, so though we knew this would be his last stop on Earth, it looked like he could be with us for a decent stretch. I resigned myself to receiving one of those late night phone calls in Idaho when something happened to him, and having to make arrangements to fly down to join my family when he passed. God, however, had a much more beautiful plan.

I was in California meeting with ministry supporters and churches for the first two weeks of October. On the Wednesday afternoon of the second week, my mom received a call from my uncle; the home had alerted the family that Paw-Paw had stopped eating and taking his medications, and that he was at the stage where he could be with us for a few hours, or five or six days--they just couldn't say. It worked out that Dad, Mom, Michael, and I could get in the car and head right down to San Gabriel that evening; Joanna wonderfully agreed to stay home with the kiddos so Michael could join us.

We arrived to meet my Grandma Quack-Quack and my aunt in Paw-Paw's room. The next 90 minutes were spent holding Paw-Paw's hands, cooling his fever with a damp cloth, stroking his hair, and talking to him, though he could no longer respond vocally to us. We sang some hymns to him, and some Christmas carols and songs from the 40s--his lips tried to stretch to sing. Michael read to him from the Bible, and we said thank you for all he had done for us, and meant to us--he built scooters for Michael and me when we were small, taught me how to blow the wrapper off a Popsicle, set off sparklers and snakes with us on the 4th of July, pointed out every road runner on a cross-country trip when I was five-years-old, made me tapes of Country Bear Jamboree and Winnie-the-Pooh, and let me spend hours at his Chevron station jumping on the tire bell, sitting at his big desk looking at old family photos under the glass top, and drinking orange pop from an ancient soda bottle dispenser.

We reminded him that all his children know the Lord, and all his grandchildren, too--even his first two great-grandchildren. We whispered, "All is well; we'll see you soon."


We actually went around the corner to Monrovia for dinner, and after interminably slow service at the restaurant, we were at Starbucks getting coffee for the drive home when the phone rang again--these were his final moments if we wanted to hurry back. We were able to turn right around and head back to the home for the final goodbye. If dinner had been served at a normal pace, we would have been half-way back to San Bernardino when that call came. God's timing is awesome!

Good night, Paw-Paw. Love you a bushel and a peck!

The Chasing

I am homesick for home. Of course, I now also have this weird thing where I am homesick for Kenya, Uganda, Lebanon, etc. Seeing a video of some of my June Kenya trip yesterday reminded me how much I am missing some folks.

I had a cool moment in church this morning, though, where I was suddenly grateful to be slightly discontent with who and where I am. Of course I should be discontent-this is not my home! Duh! I do forget this sometimes, and then the energy goes into trying to make the current location nice and smooth. How silly--and how wonderful and freeing to be reminded that sometimes I am silly, and it's grand to have a holy discontentment.

Freedom is my new excitement word: I need it. I need it like I need grace. I need freedom to think things and wonder things and be honest before God. He is making it happen. That's cool.

As I pondered a few weeks ago how to draw more strength for this too-big ministry work I am in, and how to be okay asking God once again whether this is where I am to be, he led me to Paul's lovely words to the Ephesians in 3:7-13 (emphasis mine):

I became a servant of this gospel by the gift of God's grace given me through the working of his power. Although I am less than the least of all God's people, this grace was given me: to preach to the Gentiles the unsearchable riches of Christ, and to make plain to everyone the administration of this mystery, which for ages past was kept hidden in God, who created all things. His intent was that now, through the church, the manifold wisdom of God should be made known to the rulers and authorities in the heavenly realms, according to his eternal purpose which he accomplished in Christ Jesus our Lord. In him and through faith in him we may approach God with freedom and confidence. I ask you, therefore, not to be discouraged because of my sufferings for you, which are your glory

Fed me for the day. Which is the key to daily bread, I imagine.

Also, I have wanted to say for weeks how I LOVE that in this sweet circle of folks in this funny little blogging thing we do, our collective discontent is not about our cash flow, and our longings are not for mansions and jewels. It is for peace, for one another, and for more and more of Jesus. For many of us, our biggest struggles are with our longings to be nearer to Him, in presence and in likeness.

We know that Psalm 84:10 is true:

Better is one day in your courts than a thousand elsewhere.

We love Psalm 27:4:

One thing I ask of the LORD,
this is what I seek:
that I may dwell in the house of the LORD
all the days of my life,
to gaze upon the beauty of the LORD
and to seek him in his temple.

A friend and I chatted in church this morning about God's beauty, the reality of who He is, being the only thing that is powerful enough to keep us longing to be true to Him, and powerful enough to slay us where we stand and cause us to let his light chase out our darkness. So awesome.

Glad to live here with you, dear ones.

And we are different

On reading 1 Samuel 8 / March 11, 1999

Walter Brueggemann

On Reading Romans 8

I have heard sermons and read books on certain topics, and sometimes I take in what is suggested so completely that it eliminates other truths. Things like "all we do should be for God's glory" make perfect sense to me, but sometimes it pushes out other things.

Last Tuesday was hideous because I felt completely defeated by my inability to accept God's love, or even begin to understand a wink of it, beyond His generosity in not wiping my sorry self off the face of the planet. I was almost incapacitated by the emptiness I woke up with at 3:30 that morning--almost incapacitated, but also angry. Angrier than I have ever felt, I think. I was sick to death of not comprehending in even the tiniest way this core part of God's character. I can't get over this brick wall in my core that says that all joy waits until after this life--unbiblical as that is. What made it worse was that I felt I had gotten a glimpse of it in March and April--where the hell did it go? Say that sentence with a lot of venom, and you have me in the wee hours of the morn last week.

I went to work 90 minutes later than usual, because I felt like I could not move--and if I did, what was the point? I cried the whole 2 1/2 hours I was in the office, I felt so frustrated and defeated. God bless my amazing brother for being a patient, loving voice in a Google chat that morning, gently pointing out all kinds of things my vision is skewed about, including spiritual attacks--geez, I miss him. And right about the time I decided I couldn't stand to be at work one more moment, he recommended I go home and just rest in Jesus and try to let some things soak over me. So at noon I left.

I also had a very quick text chat with Tony before I shut down the computer, and in that I asked him to pray for me, but did not want to take the time to explain the specifics of why. As I drove home, he called my cell and wanted to know what was going on so he could pray more effectively. I pulled over next to a bunch of cows and tried to keep it short. I explained quickly that I was struggling to understand God's love for me, and I can't figure out how to get out of "performance" mode, even though I know it's theologically unsound. And that it made me feel so awful I had to leave work. He suggested I spend some time in Romans 8. And God bless Tony, who does not say, in the midst of my sniffling, "My dear, I am here in the jungle of Sudan trying to run a training workshop, with a horrific case of typhoid, so sick I can barely function. And your problem is what?"

Romans 8:1-4, (NLT) with parts that struck me late last Tuesday night, the end of a wretched day, in bold...

So now there is no condemnation for those who belong to Christ Jesus. And because you belong to him, the power of the life-giving Spirit has freed you from the power of sin that leads to death. The law of Moses was unable to save us because of the weakness of our sinful nature. So God did what the law could not do. He sent his own Son in a body like the bodies we sinners have. And in that body God declared an end to sin’s control over us by giving his Son as a sacrifice for our sins. He did this so that the just requirement of the law would be fully satisfied for us, who no longer follow our sinful nature but instead follow the Spirit

Here's what came to me suddenly, suddenly, just before midnight on Tuesday.
___________

I bought that "it's not about me."
I bought it so completely that I wiped myself off the map.

I bought that "it's about God's glory."
I bought it so completely that I figured that this means nothing for me, except salvation, and I am selfish to want anything. That somehow I am selfish to wish for anything except to be a tool, a means, an invisible stone on the path to more people seeing Christ.

This is why there is no love in my schema.

If it's not about me, but all about Him, I need to adore Him, but not need anything in return—not even love.

Where is the relationship, the fullness between, or in, the truths of "God's glory" and "God so loved"?

That's why the family love and human child metaphors don't always work for me to understand God's love. People ask how I can struggle so much with this when I have a family that loves me so dearly, and I don't doubt their love. I know it's not about Mom and Dad's glory, so I am not a tool to something. I know Michael and Joanna don't want their kids to worship them.

God is different.

But similar.

How?

I need freedom. Freedom to say I want to be loved by the Creator. I want a life with someone. I want to know what Tony means to me. I want God to know all the brokenness in me and still love me. I want Tony to know all the brokenness in me and still love me.

I want to know God's voice when I hear it. I want to trust it when I do. I want to trust Him when He's quiet.
____________

It was a better night's sleep. And it was a better week. And God has been faithful to just keep dosing this new insight a little more each day. The view is shifting a little at a time. Things like Romans 8:15-17 (CEV)...

God's Spirit doesn't make us slaves who are afraid of him. Instead, we become his children and call him our Father. God's Spirit makes us sure that we are his children. His Spirit lets us know that together with Christ we will be given what God has promised. We will also share in the glory of Christ, because we have suffered with him.

Thanks for letting me share. See, Liann? The dimmer is only there on the Sluss once in a while--I am still so extreme. Pray for the dimmer to get firmly planted in me, so I can see all the shades in things, not just the light off or on. That I will start to thrive in relationship view, not right or wrong view. I want to see lots of facets of the face of God at once--not just a myopic view of one at a time.

I trust it will come.

Hugs all around.

For Ornery's Wife...

Do I know Rick and Rebecca? :)

Here's a picture from April 2003 in Moscow. I had just joined MAF in January of 2003, and this was my first overseas ministry trip. I met Rick and Rebecca, who, even though I stayed in a flat close to the office and not in their apartment, were wonderful, amazing hosts.

The picture is at the oldest conservatory in Moscow. It was the 100 birthday celebration of Armenian composer Aram Khachaturian, who composed the "Sabre Dance", just one movement from one of his ballets in a huge list of works. He also composed pieces specifically to inspire the Russian army during WWII. It was one of the most moving concerts I've ever been to.

I fell in love with Rebecca's Armenian cooking, and got to spend an evening with her at The Bolshoi seeing La Sylphide. It was brilliant. They are tied into the ministry thrust that I am with at MAF (Learning Technologies--we provide training and resources for pastors in remote parts of the world), so we stay in touch. In fact, I just got to see Rick when he came to Idaho for a few days in July to meet with our team and another colleague about the opportunities opening to serve in Siberia. It was a good visit.

Thank you so much for your encouraging comments, and please forgive me for taking so long to post. It's been a month of busyness, new things, and a slightly self-imposed exile from the world so I could find my brain and heart again. I am so glad for this "chance" meeting! The day that you posted, my mom was here for a visit from California, and we talked in the afternoon about everyone's blogs; she asked what it was like when someone "new" posted comments--was it weird? I talked about the serendipity of people finding blogs that interest them. We went to dinner that night, and when I came home, I checked my blog and you had posted your comment asking about MAF and Rick and Rebecca. I yelled down the hall to my mom, "Hey! Remember that 'strangers on a blog' question? Sometimes people aren't really strangers! Check this out!"

And hello to everyone else, as well :) I am still alive, and being hounded by Liann to blog. I'm getting back up to speed.

Tonight, for Marilyn

My heart is breaking tonight for Marilyn. As I thought of her, in the midst of my reading this evening, God brought this poem (it's in my Philip Yancey Prayer book. I did not pause to read it last night as I read the text around the sidebar it's in; I forgot that I had skipped it, and after praying for Marilyn this evening, I opened to the page it was on--not a coincidence, I think). It is new to me. My mind went directly to Marilyn. Then it went to all of us. This is for my sister, and for us.

I love and treasure you all, dear ones. And I am deeply blessed to know that this crowd will not hesitate to pray for and encourage this precious one in Minnesota--there will be many hands carrying her on her mat to Jesus, lowering her through the hole in the roof, because we love her, and He loves us.

Ich bete wieder, du Erlauchter

I am praying again, Awesome One.

You hear me again, as words
from the depths of me
rush toward you in the wind.

I’ve been scattered in pieces,
torn by conflict,
mocked by laughter,
washed down in drink.

In alleyways I sweep myself up
out of garbage and broken glass.
With my half-mouth I stammer you,
who are eternal in your symmetry.
I lift to you my half-hands
in wordless beseeching, that I may find again
the eyes with which I once beheld you.

I am a house gutted by fire
where only the guilty sometimes sleep
before the punishment that devours them
hounds them out in the open.

I am a city by the sea
sinking into a toxic tide.
I am strange to myself, as though someone unknown
had poisoned my mother as she carried me.

It’s here in all the pieces of my shame
that now I find myself again.
I yearn to belong to something, to be contained
in an all-embracing mind that sees me
as a single thing.
I yearn to be held
in the great hands of your heart–
oh let them take me now.
Into them I place these fragments, my life,
and you, God–spend them however you want.

Rainer Maria Rilke, from Rilke's Book of Hours: Love Poems to God
September 18, 1901

BLECH!

It was so awful, I have to post about it right now, this very morning. Liann and Holly will say I have been taking these kind of risks for years, and I totally had it coming. It was horrid. You know that almost-gonna-hurl, workin'-hard-to-keep-the-memory-of-it-at-bay feeling you get, trying to constrict your throat so you don't yark a little?

That is the fallout from my breakfast this morning. Ugh. Beth, someone, anyone, has to tell me what I did wrong. It seemed like something that ought to go together, in a weird kind of chi-chi-la-la sort of way. Even though I made it up as I stared, wet-haired and barely awake, into the refrigerator this morning.

Basically, it was little squares of ham (admittedly, not super top quality brand), cut about a quarter inch thick. They were all warm and nice, and I put a little square of brie on each one, then a slice of hard-boiled egg. On a few of them, I put a little dollop of dijon mustard. Each little stack was the equivalent of about two bites. So I had 12 bites of what I thought would be a nice little breakfast on my plate.

The first bite made me think of caviar--bad caviar. I thought, "I must not be awake quite yet. Wake up, Mouth!" I took another bite. Hmmm. I was appreciating the nice creamy effect of the brie from sitting on the warm ham, but I was starting to rethink that extra little shake of salt I put on top of each slice of hard-boiled egg. I mean, I know the ham was already salty, but you simply cannot eat hard-boiled egg without salt on it. What was I supposed to do? Break a hard and fast law of the universe?

By now I was facing 10 more bites. I figured it had to get better. I couldn't see any reason that these ingredients should not be friends. I tried another one with the dijon mustard, and then another without. They both were just like angry little salt skirmishes in my mouth.

I made myself finish it all and I just sat there, staring at Diane Sawyer and Robin Roberts on Good Morning, America. Maybe there would be a segment on the dangers of making creative little squares of protein for breakfast. I am still baffled. What went wrong?

I bet reading this was just like reading when Beth posts beautiful descriptions of food exploits on her blog, ain't it?

On a happier note, today is Holly's first day teaching at her new job! If you have a moment, say a prayer for her, both of thanks for some really cool stuff that has already happened and for her and her kids as they start the year together. She will be exhausted this week, but she has to post about the coolest thing that happened to her yesterday. If you don't see it in a day or two, bug her!

Hee hee! She's in!

For those of you who have been waiting years for a peek into that girl's brain, I have good news--Liann has started a blog! Treat yourself to a taste at Patriot to Heaven.

For many reasons, I am thrilled that she has taken this leap. First and foremost, it will spark either jealousy or pity from all the people who love and care about me. You will be either most envious that I lived with such a smart, insightful, honest Jesus freak for 13 years, or you will be swamped with waves of compassion for the time I spent under the same roof with a woman who thinks Pee-Wee Herman and farts are funny, chows frozen burritos and pizza like they are gourmet cooking, and has an honest-to-goodness addiction to her huge red couch from Pottery Barn. Having to put that thing in storage while she lives with her parents was like unhooking an IV.

Seriously, I love the reasons she gives for taking the dive into this netherworld of cyberspace. And, as you all know, I just love her to pieces. Moving away from one another was absolutely like unhooking an IV for both of us. I am glad she misses me and my buddies ;)

Props to you, Mc!

Copycat Kathie

Because I am a follower, here she is:

Dazed and Confused Kathie: the perplexed expression as I try to be still and let God rearrange my view of Him, the backpack for the crazy amount of travel I do and this current feeling of not knowing where I am headed, the teddy bear for my pervasive homesickness, and the red rose because Tony gave me a fabric one when I went to visit, which would have been real if we could have figured out a way to keep it alive across the Atlantic.

At least for the moment, Beth is roasting beets in my oven, Lisa is happily reading, and I am content to let them do the thinking for the weekend. Life is good :)

Kayak Therapy

Dad was trying to be nice.

He called me on Monday from Mammoth Lakes, where my whole family, sans ME, is vacationing. We love it up there. In the summer, Mom and Dad are crazy generous and rent a too-huge condo and let Michael's family and Liann and me, and anyone else we want to bring, come up and just enjoy. We hike, fish, golf, kayak, swim, eat out at nummy-nummy places, play games in the evenings, and just stare at the beauty of that place and enjoy the cool and the rains when they come.

Needless to say, I am super bummed I can't be there this year. I love kayaking and eating. Not at the same time, exactly, but there's a lot of those two activities in Mammoth.

So Dad's phone call Monday was nice. Sorta.

He called to tell me that he was fishing, and Denver and Poncho were seeing how much mud they could stir up along the shallow water of the lake, and Mom was snapping pictures all over the place. Everyone was having a lovely time. He told me it was all so cute, and this way, when I eventually saw the pictures, I would know just when they were taken.

I expressed much joy for them, despite the fact that I was in my office cubicle, looking forward to another meeting. Sigh.

But guess who kayaked that night?! Ha--me! That's right; God sent my friends Kevin and Wendy and their giggly-cute baby girl up from So Cal, to Kevin's parents' stunning home on a private lake, just so they could invite me over for dinner and kayaking and swimming, just so I could feel better!

Okay, maybe they didn't come up just for that. It could be that Kevin and Wendy love Kevin's folks, and that Kevin's family has a long history of outdoor fun, great conversation, and warm hospitality.

Of it could just be me :)

It was wonderful. Delicious dinner, raspberry margaritas, good laughter, a rice cereal-coated baby, ducks and geese, blueberry dessert, coffee that we think was decaf (I slept fine!), and catching up with one another. Kevin's folks were very kind well over a year ago to spend some time with me in Redlands before the move, reassuring me of the joys of living in Southwestern Idaho.

They were right on the mark! And it was a special blessing for me to spend the evening with them again, and a huge treat to get to see Kevin and Wendy and meet Miss Super Cutie. Plus, as Wendy pointed out, there were probably scenes I never imagined when Kevin and I were taking square dancing lessons many years ago--among them being Kevin trying to keep rice cereal inside his baby daughter rather than on her, and the fact that the slightest bit of baby drool sends him clambering for a cloth to wipe it up :) Who knew?

So, I am grateful to God for sending the first wave of intervention--thanks!

Wave #2 happened tonight with my buddy Arnila, and involved the first half of Anne of Green Gables and great talk about the ills of the world. "Great" as in how to cope with the ills and where God is in all things--not "great" as in ills are good.

Wave #3 will hopefully happen in Portland next weekend! Sweet!

Intervention, Anyone?

Ummm, so which one of you is volunteering to fly up here to do an intervention? Boise is beautiful this time of year...

But first you have to deal with me. At any given moment, I could be in complete admiration of God for the past six months and totally at peace, or I could be ready to pitch the biggest, sobbingest temper tantrum on the planet. This evening feels like a temper tantrum night.

Or at least an avoidance evening.

At this very moment, I am flipping channels back and forth between Are You Smarter than a 5th Grader? and My Name is Earl. When I am not scolding the idiot who doesn't know the title of our national anthem or wanting to give $25 to the 5th grader who does, I'm laughin' out loud at Earl's droll narration of his kooky escapades. I'm also feelin' pretty good that I got lucky enough to hit an episode guest-starring John Leguizamo. He fascinates me in a car-accident kind of way.

I have never even seen more than 45 seconds of this show before. People, if this is not a cry for help, I don't know what is.

I am homesick for family in California. I am homesick for Tony. I am tired of being positive. I am tired of being open to listening to God and feeling unanswered, and having this confidence that things have to remain unanswered for a while. Crap.

I am sure this is the part where Beth takes me to task for being a whiner. I think I would just stare at her dazed and steely-eyed and say, "Yeah, I know."

But then she would mother me and feed me pork. This is why I love her.

I do know that everything will be fine, and actually is fine. I have no doubt whatsoever about the Lord being in control and working all things out for His good.

But this hurts!!!!!!!!!!! Geez!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And it's not all Tony stuff. It's lots of things I experienced on the trip, including being face-to-face with people in the deepest poverty I have personally witnessed to date. And feeling more helpless than I ever have in my life.

So obviously I need God to show up in some new ways in my heart. And I know He will. But I am so sad right now.

And this new thing has crept into me--small, very slight in fact, but it's there. It's a twinge of jealousy over people happily together, people kissing on TV, people going home to their families, people getting engaged, people newly married, people singing about love on the radio. I know it sounds crazily impossible, but that has never really been a part of me, at least as an adult. I truly am able to be just genuinely happy for people when they pair up or anything like that. This new little "tweak" in me has cropped up since my return home from Africa.

I am one shallow monkey.

I am gonna go watch Marshall's link to Kermit's Lime in the Coconut. It's like medicine. And goes good with the margarita kick I am on. Even though I have been drinking them with Asian food. See? I'm all twisted around. Pleh.

Seriously, I am grateful to know you people. Thanks for being good ears. And, Risa? It would have to be a wild trip, because clearly 'ritas must be involved :)

All Over the Place

As in, that's where my brain is. Yet, magically, it is also nowhere, and terrifyingly empty. I think I am the most emotionally spent and brain dead I have ever been. I would elaborate, but I think you see the issue at hand--I can't hold two thoughts together in my wee noggin.

So, after putting together a chapel presentation about the Kenya/Uganda trip for work tomorrow, I rewarded myself by searching for stupid things in YouTube--all of the Tiny Toon, Animaniacs, Muppets, and Sesame Street nature. That's right--now you're getting the picture of what my insect-repellent, too-many-airplane-rides, don't-know-what's-next-for-Tony-and-me addled brain can handle.

In honor of Miss Liann, who among many others, has had to do way too much listening to me lately, I present one of her favs--"C is for Cookie". Indeed it is.



Has anyone else always admired how Cookie Monster chows the cookies? Makes me happy somehow.

Okay, I can't think, but I can copy things from notes I made while on the trip. Wanna know what was playing in the Nairobi Airport while I was waiting to fly to Entebbe, Uganda to see Tony? Of course--Linda Ronstadt. Blue Bayou all the way, baby. Followed by John Denver, Kenny Rogers, and Dolly Parton. It was the all-country channel lifting our spirits there in toasty Kenya. And nothing lifts my spirits like Dolly belting out Jolene. Still, nice and benign. I can hack that.

Of course, on the way out of Nairobi, heading home to the States, after saying goodbye to Tony, what was playing in the airport?

Love songs. Nothing but 80's love songs. Just when I need Kenny and The Gambler, I get Phil Collins and Separate Lives. Ouch.

In honor of the love song pain, here is Richard Jeni, doing the oft-Slusser-quoted love song bit. It makes us laugh, but be warned: there are few mild expletives and a bit of rudeness. Not for the kiddies.

First Things

First things first--Dr. Skaggs, I have two 500 ml bottles of Stoney Tangawizi sitting in my apartment for you. They made it home intact, in my packed luggage, no less (I couldn't put them in my carry-on since I had a layover in Amsterdam--they confiscate bottles of liquid). I fully expected to open my duffel in Idaho to two bottles of exploded soda. You love me :)

Now the real first thing--thank you to all of you for praying. I can't fathom having taken the trip and survived it--both physically and emotionally--without the prayers. I could type pages and pages, but honestly I am still exhausted to do much except bang out the budget I need to do for work this week, and get myself to California this weekend to see my grandfather who went into hospice care last week. I wish I could pop back to life here like a daisy, but I get my butt kicked when I fly west, and crossing nine time zones is just goofy. Heading east--no problem. West--well, let's just say that when I got home last Monday night, I took a shower, and the next thing I knew, I woke up on my living room floor, and realized I needed to get myself into the bed. Hee, hee :)

I am sure you would all love to hear about the pastors and churches, roads and food, hippos and crocodiles. I do hope to post about all those great things in the days to come. Okay--here is a croc picture from the Nile to hold you over:

That's no telephoto on my camera--just us in a boat on the Nile, and lots of crocs. They open their mouths to warm themselves. Eeeeek! This was actually part of a float of about 40 crocs in one spot.

But I know you really want to know how it went with Tony and me. Most of you got my email about it, but in short, we were faced with both how we feel about each other (oh, love, love, love), and with reality (the demands on the time of an African pastor are beyond anything I have ever seen). We have not completely shut the door on the possibility of a life together for us, but it's terribly hard to imagine things can work in the long run. We are still highly committed to our friendship, praying for one another, and continuing to listen to the Lord for His guidance and care.

I'm okay. Okay, I'm a little depressed. But I am amazed to be loved by someone this wonderful. And I will tell you later about some of the terrific perks, large and small.

In the meantime, here's a picture upon my arrival in Entebbe, the airport about 22 km south of Kampala, right on Lake Victoria:


Here's another at departure from the airport, headed home via Nairobi, Amsterdam, Seattle, and finally, Boise. Man, that's alotta planes :)


And the mosquitoes liked me--a lot. Apparently there aren't too many folks as pasty as me who visit Northern Uganda, and the mosquitoes discovered a new flavor. I think I was the other white meat.

I missed being able to check everyone's blogs! It's been nice to catch up on all of you over the last week. Thanks again for being part of my circle--I am more grateful than you can imagine to know you all as we navigate this unpredictable life.

The Price Thus Far

Ugandan visa application to visit United States (even when it's denied): $100
Too many books on courtship and intercultural marriage: $70
2nd Ugandan visa application to visit United States (even when it's denied): $100
Four months of Skype credit: $225

Learning patience and trust in ways I never dreamed: Priceless

Ummm...gee whiz. Goodness. Oh my.

That's pretty much the extent of my vocabulary these days. Except to sometimes sputter out, "There's no way!" (about 16 times a day) when I ponder all the challenges Tony and I will face if this works out. And all the challenges God has me facing in just facing whether or not we should face a life together.

Got all that?

Blissfully, Liann and Holly came to visit over my birthday weekend. It was really cool--Liann was here for a day before Holly, they overlapped for a day and a half, then Holly was here for another day, so I got some time with each of them separately as well as together!

Liann noticed within the first day that at least once every hour, she caught me silently shaking my head. I had to own up that it crosses my mind quite regularly, in various ways, how this just can't work out.

Holly, on the other hand, took great joy in noticing that I apparently get all pink in the cheeks and smiley when I chat with Tony on Skype. Embarrassing, I tell you.

How do we reconcile these two different Kathies? Easy--I have been schizophrenic for about 4 months now :)

Turns out I am finally able to admit what people have been telling me for years: I am a perfectionist American workaholic. This does not lend itself easily to "letting go and letting God" as those bumper stickers recommend.

Even though my math is so poopy I can barely add Scrabble scores, I try to make everything in my world fit on a balance sheet. I have discovered something; if everyone did this, no one would EVER get married. The pros never outweigh the cons; the simple never outweighs the complex.

People have been trying to explain to me that this is why when you meet someone special, God often makes your heart go BOING! That He has to smack you with some mystery and knock you off your balance.

Especially if you are like me and try to make sure the math always makes sense in your decisions. And you spend a lot of effort making sure you stay in balance, and in control, and try not to look dumb or foolish, and scramble madly to keep your act together every blessed moment.

Someone this week said to me, "Love is like the new math. It doesn't make any sense, but it works!"

So for the record, I am head over heels for Tony. Devin asked me a couple weeks ago if I was "in love with the guy," (in a very kind, sweet, Devin-y way).

Ummm...yeah :)

I fly to Kenya on May 29 for follow-up work to a project started in January, then on to Uganda June 7-17 to see Tony. And to talk about whether we keep talking as we are, which is quite seriously. And to do some ministry work with him. And to meet his family. And to see if I can even fathom a life in Africa in some pretty restricted circumstances. And to try not to faint when I see again in person this handsome, gracious man who likes to point out to this perfectionist American workaholic that he loves me not for what I can or can't do, but for who I am.

Pondering two cultural changes at once - marriage and Africa: Insane

The one thing that makes this worth pondering - Jesus: Eternal

A New Record

This was a first--I have never hit double digits for comments before--14 on the previous post! Hilarious!

And I thought BSG and Tolkien and Wild at Heart got you guys all hot and bothered...

Thank you to everyone for the positive encouragement. And do you know who has actually been the most flex out of all the grown-up crowd? My parents! I guess I shouldn't be shocked, but they have been adorable, and way cool. While they were here in Idaho the week before Easter, we stayed up until 1:00 AM the night before they left, watching Guess Who's Coming to Dinner? There were more than a few chuckles as we watched it again with a whole new perspective!

Marilyn actually made me tear up with her comment, that "he looks like someone who would be good at loving our Kathie." So sweet!

And Chris and Devin, you'll be pleased to know that there are still untold numbers of folk who are hearing after you. This whole thing has been like a 9.5 on Kathie's weird-o-meter, so I am still processing plenty, praying more, and having edges shaved off my character in droves. Couple that with the fact that in Uganda, this whole thing would be a really, really private process until and if there was something official to announce, and Tony and I are trying to live in the give and take of the cultural differences, which means I have been quieter than normal about this. Which all means there are still people finding out here and there.

That said, I am sure you will believe me when I say I honest-to-Pete don't have the emotional energy for a decent blog post, but I wanted to get in here and acknowledge people's wonderful comments and love--thank you!

And please, do pray. The challenges for this to work are overwhelming. In fact, they seem downright impossible at moments--we have insane work schedules, technical communication challenges, half a globe of distance between us, completely opposite backgrounds, and cultural differences to cope with. Yep--feels impossible sometimes.

But in common, we have a God of the Impossible. One "who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us," all for His glory if he desires.

So, now it's on record--if this happens, God will have overcome tremendous obstacles for us. There will be no one to give credit to but Him!

And even if it does not turn out as we hope, we know He is good, He is perfect, and He loves us perfectly. And we are both blessed for even having met.

I agree--as everyone said in one way or another, and Devin said specifically, "Yay, God!"

And, yeah--Odin, cute, blah, blah, cutest baby in the world, blah, blah, Skaggs you lucky, lucky man for marrying a beautiful woman which saved your baby's genetic biscuits, blah, blah...there, all better :)

I'm down with Kristin--it' such a shame that sweet baby ain't doted on enough! There must be some agency to report that to...

New Things

I hope Skaggs doesn't mind, but I am going to use his Thanks post as a springboard to sharing some things I want to "put out there", as the purpose of this blog God made me start suggests (and I am not kidding--He made me do it). I am also going to be sly and use it as a segue to talking about something that it would just seem too weird to suddenly drop in here.

But first I have to share this way-too-cute picture of The Baby Viking. I would give credit to Chris's zerbert to making Odin laugh that hard, but in truth the kid is just that ridiculously adorable all the time. His grumpy days are way better than most of my good days! Apparently Beth is fond of hugging him and saying sarcastically, "Oh, it's so sad you have such a surly baby..." Chris and Rebekah have a huge success of genetic commingling on their hands :)

I love when God works in big, wide circles of answered prayer and cool stuff that I could never arrange. I was glancing back tonight at my It's Just a Thought post from last October. There are so many things, like being more vulnerable and asking for help and understanding His unconditional love, that I have spent the last couple years really asking God to help me fathom--things I long to be, do, believe.

So here I am, almost three weeks out from a stunning blessing of a visit to Imladris in Newberg--Kathie was the flat, needy, soul-stretched friend who took shelter at the Skaggs' house. And my post from last October (one of many with a similar theme) is evidence that God had been preparing me for this visit for a long time. And Chris's post from a couple weeks ago evidences that these friends and their home, in answer to their prayers, were indeed used as part of a provision for my needs that began long ago. And, because God is just too stunning and beautiful to be predictable or boring, the visit to their home was a place to safely seek answer to new prayers as well--things I never dreamed I would be pondering.

It's been a busy, long eight months since the move to Idaho. Good, but wearying. My work schedule and travel from last November through mid-February was also just a load of good stuff, but it slammed me. Add into that the fun of Liann and I listing and selling the house in Springs--and an escrow that still has not closed. By the time I got around to writing to the Skaggses in the last days of February about the visit we had been talking about me making since October, I could barely compose a coherent email. I had to stop typing and trying to make decisions about whether to visit, about dates, or how to get there--and beg them to just tell me what to do. Praise God for friends who know when to just boss you! They said come, on these dates, and drive. And don't rush home too soon.

The eight-hour drive to Newberg, including going through the Columbia River Gorge (both directions), was just right. There were things to pray about; listen to the Spirit about; praise the Father, Son, and Spirit for; cry about; be honest about; and toughest for me--to ask for--to admit that there are things I want from God. Things that I have thought for years were shallow and needy and if I were actually mature in Christ I would not care about.

One example: during the Kenya trip, there was a fellow who could not stop taking pictures--of everyone and everything, including me. As we would talk in the evenings after work and dinner, he would load all the pictures and video he had shot onto a flash drive, give me the drive to load the stuff onto my computer, and then wait to see my joy at all the pictures he had taken. And video. And lots of it of me. Ugh. It was hideous. In case I have not mentioned it, my hair got about four times bigger in Kenya, and I felt like a sweaty, pasty blob.

And that's exactly what the pictures looked like to me. Hideous. I kept waiting for one decent picture or snippet of video to make me smile. I felt so selfish, but I wanted at least one picture to not make me feel ugly. The loud thought that came to me was, "You are a troll. It doesn't get much worse than you." And one night I finally actually cried tears in my room and told God, "I'm sorry, but I want to be beautiful! I can't believe it matters, and that I feel like this, but it's true--I want to be beautiful." It felt so pathetic. I had some flashback to parts of Captivating; didn't they say that this is what every woman really wants answered? Do you delight in me? Am I captivating?

Part of the time in Newberg was to talk about spiritual warfare, and Chris deftly pointed out that the thought that came to my brain was almost certainly not mine. It was an accusatory thought, and it came in the second-person--"you are...". I forget that we have an enemy. One who wants me to buy the line that I could never be adored by anyone, least of all God. Not saved, mind you--that's not the tack that works with me. That's solid. But adored--I sink right under the waves, because who would adore me? And what is wrong with me that this is what I want?

So, a series of events starts to unfold after my crying, which it turns out was in process even before the crying and asking. It's a long, great story that leads right back to me finally starting to believe--even celebrate--that God desires me and loves me. And much of what needed to be hashed through happened in Oregon. And it's a crazy web that I could never explain unless you had a few hours next to me on a couch with a cup of coffee, but some of it has to do with a new person in my life. Oh, man...here goes...

I met someone in Kenya. His name is Tony, he is Ugandan, and currently works in Sudan. And I know there are only like ten of you who even read this blog, and about half of you know this news already--but I am putting this out here because I want the other half of you all praying, too!

Tony is pretty introverted and will likely faint if/when he discovers that I put this information on the Web. In all of our cultural differences, though, I suppose it's better that he find out sooner rather than later that I have people in my life that I have known since my age was still a single digit, and that I can't not tell them stuff :) Besides, I know Christina is jumping up and down with glee right now--how could I not give her that gift?!

It's quite the story, but God apparently spent the two weeks in Kenya turning my heart and Tony's upside down--completely unbeknownst to one another. Can I just drop in the reminder here that Kathie has not been in a relationship since 1993? This does not happen everyday. Thus, it took Kathie a good while to even realize what was going on.

And, yes, Tony was the picture/video fellow. And this courtship journey we are in has been unlike anything I have ever experienced and is amazing on multiple levels.

Not the least of which are the deep, good things happening in my relationship with my Heavenly Father. And other things that were surfaced and discussed and prayed for and forgiven and answered and cried over and pondered in Newberg. Because there was a home opened by friends who asked God that they might be used to refuel, refresh and rejuvenate His children.

No, Chris--you are not making too much of my intentions or the time there. It was indeed an arranged appointment with you and Rebekah, but not arranged by me. Our Dad set it up. Thank you for listening to Him, and to me.

Quote I Am Digging this Week

When God asks us to let our seed of destiny be buried in the soil of relationships, it is because humility – recognizing that God is God and we are not – is the only catalyst that can enable our character to germinate properly….

Choosing to trust people, especially those who are different from ourselves, has a lot to do with trusting the One who is managing the path of our lives.

The Ascent of a Leader
Bill Thrall, Bruce McNicol, Ken McElrath

A Couple of Great Listens

I have one of the coolest bosses in the world. Who else out there has a boss who finds awesome sermons online and all kinds of other cool resources and points them out to his team?

Richard finds treasures, and I listened to two this past week that were great. They are both from John Piper's website, Desiring God, and are messages that were part of the 2006 Desiring God National Conference. I could go on and on about how great I thought these were, particularly the one by Mark Driscoll, but it's a little like buying everyone you know a copy of a book that rocked your world when not everyone you know is in the same place of heart or experience you are. Some will like, some won't, but most will ignore.

But I can at least share. I think some of you would really dig the messages. Download 'em, burn 'em on CDs, and listen in your car if you don't want to plant yourself at the computer to listen. I think you'll be glad you did. If you haven't had some churchin' in a while, this is a great way to get excited again about Jesus, and if you have any sense of humor at all and pay attention in any way to our modern culture, you will laugh often. But be warned--these are not your average, sleepy Sunday, God-make-me-more-comfortable sermons.

And seriously, don't let the titles of the messages scare ya. I almost didn't put them on here, but you'll see them when you get to the link anyway. The titles sound super-lofty, but these are really accessible, especially the Driscoll one. The Baucham one is a little headier, but some of you will eat that up.

Mark Driscoll: The Supremacy of Christ and the Church in a Postmodern World

Voddie Baucham: The Supremacy of Christ and Truth in a Postmodern World

Be blessed and loved. Man, we serve and follow and LOVE the most extraordinary God! Hallelujah!

Arrrgghh, Mateys!

When "Anna and the King" came out several years ago, Beth sent me an email. I have it basically memorized. It said:

I have three words for you: Chow. Yun. Fat.
Run, don't walk, to see this movie.

Liann and I obeyed. And were, of course, wonderfully rewarded with a few hours of big, smiley joy (read: Chow Yun Fat in Thai pants).

In fact, when I bought the DVD of the flick when it came out, I called Beth from the car, as Liann sped east on the 10 Freeway from Ontario Mills toward home so we could watch it anew. I said, "Guess what I have in the car with me? Three words: Chow. Yun. Fat." Elizabeth, in a swell of jealousy, called me a name I shall not post here, may I say.

That's friendship, baby!

So, even though there is only perhaps two seconds of him in here, I am posting the new trailer for "Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End." Three words for you: May 25, HURRY!

And why do I have to be in meetings in Grand Rapids opening day, and flying home that night? Crazy, I say!



And on an unrelated topic, do most of us blog better in our jammies or our street clothes? Do we blog better in the daytime or late at night? On or off Ambien?

That last one is just for me :)

Brain Clutter

Contrary to what my blog has evidenced in the last several posts, there are deep, surprisingly unexpected things happening in my heart and life these days. For anyone who is curious, the start of deep things was last mentioned on the January 28 post, in what Liann later chided me for being a very vague bit of blather. Rude! And quite likely correct--it just wasn't time to share things yet.

So I think I will do it in my next post :) Ha!

Today, I unload the clutter o' me brain. And like a happy leprechaun on this St. Patrick's Day, I do it with a tummy full of corned beef, cabbage and potatoes, that I was able to cook in the apartment without the whining of a former roommate who shall remain nameless. One who has a very sensitive nose. And a weakness for cookies.

Speaking of cookies, I must amend my previous post. I was stopped in the hallway by a colleague last week who pointed out that it is possible to eat a box of Samoas, also known as Caramel deLites, and feel no ill effect. I pondered for a moment and had to agree. They go down so nicely...and the toasted coconut is so yummy-licious. After looking online, I can also confirm that this way-too-educated-about-Girl-Scout-cookies-than-a-man-over-six-feet-tall-should-be guy was totally accurate in his information to me that the name of said cookies depends upon which bakery makes the cookies, Little Brownie Bakers or ABC Bakers. Marshall, I doff my sticky-fingered cookie hat to you!

And Devin is also correct--a roll of frozen Thin Mints goes down superbly, and YES...I see the word Tagalog every stinking time I look at a box of Tagalongs. I almost circled the 'n' on the box I bought so I would remember to say it correctly if ever I am dumb enough to purchase some again.

Back to Marshall, he let me pick some cool 80's tunes to burn onto a CD for my road trip to Newberg last weekend to see the Skaggs and Foxes. Marshall has no idea who these people are, by the way. It's just that I find he and his wife, another colleague, so adorable and funny, that I am constantly pestering them...so I think he started to read my blog to see if there is any explanation for my pestering and clambering to hang out with them. And feeling the need to liken significant events in their lives to game shows I make up in my head that are along the lines of "Wheel of Fish" from UHF. They are very patient with me, obviously! In fact, when he first offered to let me pick songs for the CD from his collection, I told him he could just do it for me. He begged off, warning me I might wind up with stuff like Weird Al. That turned into a 5-minute drivel from me about all the Weird Al and Dr. Demento I have been exposed to. Like anyone needs that peek into my life...

All that to say he let me make a cool CD. And just as I pulled out of Baker City, Oregon, my first stop for gas on the way to Newberg, Mike + the Mechanics came on--"The Living Years". There I was, on Interstate 84, singing away, beef jerky in one hand, steering wheel in the other, Baby Ruth candy bar on the passenger seat waiting to chase the beef jerky. And I took my first deep breath in weeks. Ah...that's a road trip!

More brain clutter--I saw these things called "Grāpples" in the market today. Looks like four apples in a plastic case. It says on the container, "Looks like an apple. Tastes like a grape." WHY?

And because someone will be pleased to know, I tasted linguiça last week, Portuguese pork sausage. My pastor came to cook breakfast at MAF for some meetings our team was having--the guys had been subjected to bagels and yogurt for two days, so Pastor Mark came to make "Man Breakfast". That's some good stuff...and it'll last ya for a 7-hour road trip, I might add.

Off to finish a tube of Thin Mints from the freezer. Each one is "only wafer thin!"

Note to Self

Contrary to my previously held opinion, yes, in fact, you can eat too many Girl Scout cookies.

Since I got back from Kenya, my eating habits have actually improved slightly. Maybe it was all the super-duper mango and pineapple. I suddenly crave lots of fruit and veggies, and for a while, sweet stuff and red meat was not overly appealing. That has changed back to normal of course, and I again long for prime rib and brownies, but I have been fairly well-behaved.

Enter this afternoon. For some reason, I suddenly hit the end of my rope about something in the office, and medicated my attitude by pounding, pretty much right in a row, four Tagalong Girl Scout cookies (the peanut butter patty kind).

First of all, these are not the best cookies, by any stretch. Liann loves them, so I bought a box mostly out of old roommate nostalgia and memories of shared cookie time in our house (and for anyone who does not know, Liann is a complete cookie-holic; if you need to bribe her to do anything, don't bother with cash--bring peanut butter chocolate chunk cookies and she'll totally cave in). Anyway, Tagalongs are okay, but they are a little on the greasy side. They leave a sort of slip-n-slide feel in your mouth that is not so nice.

Secondly, the wave of unwell that struck me about 10 minutes later, and lasted for a good couple hours, was not the medicated attitude I was looking for. Bleech--I felt like I was one of those kids at the carnival who gets their first good slam of cotton candy and stupidly climbs on the Tilt-a-Whirl right away. Kathie no likey.

So, boys and girls, watch yourselves and those you love during this GS Cookie Fest. Those little Brownies and Girl Scouties look all sweet standing outside the market when you come out the door, but beware the draw of eating a whole vacuum tube of Thin Mints at once. I know it seems so much easier to just finish the thing, but save some for later.

And I recommend that practice based on a previous note to self as well :)

Laziest Post to Date

I found this on a friend's site (and, no, it wasn't one of you regulars, before you go checking to see whose good idea it was!). Anything that makes me laugh out loud more than once deserves to be posted.

And here's to me finally figuring out the easy way to post from YouTube. Crickey.

Presenting, Le Grand Content. Just let your mind float for 3 minutes, 52 seconds. That's right--I said float with me. You all know your minds have already been this distracted and whacky :)

Notes from a Plane

Ugh. I feel like I have spent the last two and a half months on airplanes. See now why no new blog posts? I can't do it from the cabin of an aircraft! In honor of my hours in the sky, however, I thought I would share some of the random thoughts that pass through my brain as I travel through the clouds and the morass of humanity.

• Who decides what shops go into airport terminals? Who in the world buys a Fendi bag or a Burberry necktie or Beluga XXL caviar in an airport terminal?
• Yes, I am one of those people who could now recite the safety features along with the flight attendants. I must keep myself from snickering at my own little snide comments as they run through my brain during the instruction narration: "In case of a water landing, your seat cushion may be used as a flotation device..." Kathie adds in her head, "except for the ones that sink like rocks..."
• I also add the "Tommy Boy" comments in my head, like "And... what about seat belts? To fasten, take the little end and stick it in the big end and... you know what? If you guys don't know how to use a seatbelt, just ring your call button and Tommy will come back there and hit you on the head with a tack hammer."
• There is shocking little humanity in airports. After two longer-than-8-hour flights and a 6-hour layover in London, I landed in Chicago on my way home from Kenya. I had to collect my bags, go through customs, then recheck the bags on to Boise. I stood at the baggage carousel, marveling at its speed (you start to notice these things after a while), watching the people around me. After helping two people pull their luggage off the carousel without so much as a nod or thank you from them, being shoved out of the way by people who clearly felt they needed to be closer to the carousel than I, and listening to a woman's several small children behind me who were crying and yelling as they beat the snot out of one another, I actually prayed to God to show me a little humanity in this place. Suddenly there was another woman who needed help with getting her bags off the carousel. I gave her a hand, and she was so glad. On the train shuttle ride around to my next terminal, there was a woman with a cart full of luggage and a small baby in a one of those front packs on her stomach. This baby had had enough of traveling. She was just crying, and her mom was trying to console her, but also keep her own wits about her. When our stop finally came, I didn't even ask her--I just helped pull the front of her cart around to the door to help her get off the train before the door slammed shut on her and people piled in without letting her off. She just gave me the most grateful smile. It made my heart soar. Please don't confuse these incidents with me expressing a need to be appreciated--I really did just want to see people act like they had some nice inside them. I was also very happy to listen to a woman on the train who made nice chit chat with this poor mom traveling alone while her exhausted baby cried.
• And, oh yeah--"A" is for anal retentive! As in the "A" line for Southwest flights! Good night! I think the most uptight people I have ever met are the "A" group folks who fly Southwest. They guard their place in line like their very existence depends upon their position and order of loading into that plane. In Oakland, the boarding gates are too small and ridiculously crowded. On my last pass through there on the way to Ontario, I was in line right at the spot where the "A", "B", and "C" lines could not stay completely separate--there simply was not enough room for people to stand three abreast between the seats in the boarding area. I thought people were going to chew off their own limbs they were so annoyed that they could not make certain they were in EXACTLY the correct line. I spent a fair amount of time reassuring the people behind me that the "B" people would scoot right out of the way when they called the "A" group and some of the "A" people in the front of the line made room for people to move forward. Gee whiz! And I was a freaking "A" person! And I had "B" people helping me to convince the panicked lot behind me! Peanuts, anyone????
• I had my first Mormon friend chat on a flight from Dallas. After we chatted about all kinds of innocuous things, he discovered that I worked for a Christian evangelical ministry. He leaned right over asked, "So, what is it that evangelical pastors have against Mormons?" There's a conversation starter! It was actually a very good talk--he gave me an invitation card to call for my free DVD, and I gave him my business card to come to MAF for a tour ;)
• Brace yourself if you ever fly into Reno. Dear Heaven, it is the bumpiest ride in the world to get in or out of there--pass the sick sacks! Unless you take off from Ontario in the wind--now that's a lesson in trust!
• People, people, people--the arm rests are not really there for you to rest your arms. They are simply the polite dividers between you and me. They are not mine to rest my arms, nor are they yours--you may only touch them to adjust the channel and volume on your video screen. Then you get back into your own space!

Any questions? I actually have many more random thoughts as I walk through terminals, but blissfully, most of them dissipate before we touch down at the next airport. Now, fasten you seat belts, and please use the yellow oxygen mask if we experience a sudden loss of pressure in the cabin. The bag may not inflate, but oxygen will be flowing. Please affix your own mask before assisting others...

$3 Worth of God

A friend at headquarters shared with me something that was presented at the training for our new missionary candidates. It gave me things to ponder, and I thought others might enjoy it as well. It was presented as part of an introduction to our theology of mission.

“Could it be that instead of embracing God’s whole agenda, the church has settled for $3 worth of God?

I would like to buy $3 worth of God please
I want just $3 worth
  Just enough to equal a soothing cup of warm milk
  Or a snooze in the sunshine
  Not enough to explode my soul or disturb my sleep
Enough of God to make me feel love and forgiven
  But not so much to make me love and forgive others
  Not so much that it will make me seek justice for the   oppressed
  Or to embrace the person with AIDS
  Or make room for the refugee
  Or to feed the hungry
Just $3 worth please
  Enough to snack on for two Sunday morning hours of bliss
I want ecstasy
  Not transformation
I want the warmth of the womb
  Not the terrible pain of new birth
Give me a pound of the eternal
  $3 worth of God please
  And could you put that in a brown paper bag…”

Adapted from Tim Hansel

I don't know that this requires much commentary from me. Except to say, I often only seek $3 worth, indeed.

Here's to infinite cost and infinite price. What's He worth to me?

Shaken Up

The Kenya trip—in a too simple metaphor, it was a spiritual snowglobe shaker. Just when you think things are a bit settled from the last shake, God comes and swirls the snow again. I do like it, but it’s hard, too, and it always takes me a bit to catch on that God is trying to speak to me about something.

My final year of teaching at Rim was one of walking with the Lord in lessons of common sense versus faith, security versus His invitation to something where I would meet Him in a new way. When I think about that time now, I wonder with a scrunched forehead how He got me to leave such a secure job and predictable situation to go to—no one knew what. I had no job lined up, little savings, and a car payment and half a mortgage. I remember that year as an incredible time, but when I really think about it now, I am amazed at what God prompted me to do, and how He provided the courage to do it.

It’s taken me a week to really think about some of the things that happened in Kenya, and to notice that God is using it to start a new conversation with me. Today was the day it dawned on me. Some of the themes of the conversation have to do with trust, sacrifice, joy, and priorities. All week my Bible and devotional readings seem to have been asking the question, "What are you clinging to? What and who do you really love?" Being in Idaho and taking this trip have meant meeting lots of new people who are asking what I do at MAF and why I do it. I get to tell a great story of how God led me into this work, and that I am still amazed that this is what He is allowing me to do with my life. Once I got home, though, it seemed He was asking me, "Is that what you still think—that I am amazing? Or have you become settled again spiritually? Where is your heart?"

The cool thing is, I didn’t hear those questions as condemnations, which is a change for me. I heard them gently, from the One who loves me, who wants to draw me closer. But I still was not sure that all the themes I was seeing in my reading were really there, and I did feel a little like I was clambering after the Lord saying, "Really? Are you sure you’re talking to me? What are you trying to say? Are you really trying to get my attention? Is this a personal chat or a general reminder about things?"

Today was one of those sweet, sweet days when it becomes obvious that it’s a personal chat. I love when God is in the details. This morning as I got ready for church, I flipped my "Names of God" daily calendar from January 26 to 27, on the way to 28. The name of God for the 27th was "Altogether Lovely". I flashed right away to one of my favorite songs, Tim Hughes’ Here I Am to Worship. It was one of the songs that God used to minister to my heart in my most homesick moment in Idaho.

I saw the calendar and thought about the question God has been asking me about Psalm 84, which I think the Lord gave to me just after I got home from Kenya for this year as an encouragement and more—a conversation about where my home really is. I think He has been using it to ask me whether I really believe that one day in His courts is better than a thousand elsewhere. Where are my elsewheres? How many do I have, that draw me from His courts? How deeply do I want to dwell with Him? Do I really believe that He is so Altogether Lovely that I will lay my heart down again for Him to refashion anew?

I thought, "It would be cool to sing Here I Am to Worship at church this morning. I’d love that." Well, guess what? Of course, that’s one of the songs we sang, along with a whole bunch of others to do with surrender. And the message was on the final chapter of Jonah, from a beautiful perspective of surrender. I cried through most of the music, mouthing the words when I could, so assured of His calm voice to me saying once again, "I am big enough. I love you enough. Rest, child. Change is coming, but it’s okay. I am doing something new. Trust me."

So, that’s the state of my snowglobe. And I am a mess in some moments, but mostly pretty happy to be shaken up.

Oh, For a Muse of Fire...

Or, mostly, just for time and brain energy enough to type something new in here :)

I arrived home Saturday evening from Kenya and have been in a zoom of house cleaning and work and mail sorting and meeting planning...and, yes, sleep. I think the funniest thing about jet lag is that one minute you are zooming along like everything is fine and you are wide awake, then...CRASH! There's no warning. You are just slam-down-on-your-face tired.

I took Sunday to really try to rest (though I actually wound up cleaning the apartment and putting away some of the stuff from Christmas that I didn't get to since I left for Kenya so quickly after I got home from California, because, of course, I came home to a note from the property management company to say that inspectors would be in the next day for a sale inspection, so why bother to make a mess and actually unpack my suitcases--what a pain!). I told Liann that it would have been nice to have some candles lit while I was home to make the place smell good--but when I am jet-lagged, I am afraid I won't remember to blow them out!

Kenya was amazing on many levels. As always, it was hard to leave because wonderful friendships develop with people. How terrific it is to belong to Christ so that we do not truly say goodbye, but rather, "until later." It's a wonderful consolation.

And I am completely off pineapple or mango in the States now. I have tasted the real thing--fruit actually ripened as it was meant to be, not colored up to sit on a store shelf or be sucked from a can. Yes, you may now address me as Pineapple Mango Snob Girl.

And for Beth--I want you to know that I am as completely capable now of stripping goat bones the way do I chicken bones--you hardly know it's happening ;) Yeah, baby!