Tomorrow, I get to go take a friend out for lunch to celebrate her birthday. One of her friends from her home group arranged for 40 of us who love her lots to celebrate her birthday for 40 consecutive days. I think it's a great idea. Her friend who organized this suggested we put our creativity to work to come up with some special way of remembering the day.
So....Grasshopper and I painted an unfinished wooden picture frame I picked up from Michael's. I really wanted this to be Grasshopper's work, so I just gave him several brushes and put several colors of acrylic paint on two paper plates and let him go for it. He combined his brush work with using his hands and elbows. The whole frame looks like one incredibly colorful modern work of art, and you can see a few places where his hand or finger prints come through clearly. It's adorable. All I did was paint around the inside and outside edge to finish it, and then put Grasshopper's name and age on the back.
I had watched this neat card making video on a blog awhile back and filed it away as something I'd want to make some day. Today was the day. It took forever to relocate the video, but once I did I was reminded it was worth all the effort. The card I made took awhile to make, but I loved every minute of it. I'd take pictures, but it has real names all over it. So you'll have to watch the video to get the idea. My card starts out with red, blue and yellow, and then turns into ivory and teal and a fun plaid, which then turns into the plaid with some blue and purple blocks. It ends with rose colored paper in various patterns and solids. It is a very cool card, and I'm so proud of it. I think it will definitely be one I make again for a gift for someone else.
Here's the video tutorial I used. I would watch a step of it, complete the step, and then go back and watch the next portion. That made it easy peasy. The only thing I did differently was to use double sided scrapbooking tape so I wouldn't have to worry about waiting for glue to dry or paper getting too saturated or wrinkly. I've played with the card enough already to see that the tape should be strong enough to hold it permanently. This is such a fun gift! Check it out!
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Sunday, December 12, 2010
A Christmas Gift For You
My mom told me about this video tonight. I guess she's from around where they live. It's pretty special if you ask me. Just the right Christmas gift as I look over at the manger with the handmade baby Jesus that was well kissed tonight by a little boy I love.
Check it out!
Check it out!
Friday, December 10, 2010
Beautiful
Lots of life has been happening. My toddler was in the hospital for a bit. We traveled home to the States for a bit. Our adopted family here has been in the midst of a tough journey. I've been following what I think might be a new calling for me. All kinds of stuff. But I don't feel much like writing. Instead, I'll just share a video I love right now. A blogging friend I hope to one day meet has this song on her blog, which made me decide to find out who Forever Jones is. And that led me to watching a few videos. This one makes me want to dance with God.
*Loading this was a bear and I have NO idea why. If you click on the partial box in the far right hand corner at the bottom, it will take you to YouTube where you can watch it there without having any of the screen cut off.
*Loading this was a bear and I have NO idea why. If you click on the partial box in the far right hand corner at the bottom, it will take you to YouTube where you can watch it there without having any of the screen cut off.
Monday, October 25, 2010
Sacred Stories
“Story is the way the Spirit of God can bind up our wounds. When these words find their mark, God heals two hearts-yours and mine.” ~ Ann Voskamp
I read this quote on a blog, can't remember which one. But it is so true. I've been reading John Little's book, Catherine's Gift. I highly recommend it. I wrote him yesterday to thank him for the way his book is helping heal my heart. And he wrote me back. It's like there is finally someone who truly understands the emotional impact of a traumatic birth injury. While I married for love and at an age that was definitely considered adult, and had all the advantages of a wealthy western nation's health care at my disposal, the injury still happened and it still wounded my heart just as much as it wounded my body. So while my story is not entirely like those of the young women in his book, our hearts echo the same refrain.
And so it is true that his book is healing my heart like nothing else. And it is also true that story is a way that God's Spirit binds up our wounds. The stories of the women from Ethiopia are doing just that for a redhead in Canada. His words found their mark - my heart. And such is the way that God heals.
I read this quote on a blog, can't remember which one. But it is so true. I've been reading John Little's book, Catherine's Gift. I highly recommend it. I wrote him yesterday to thank him for the way his book is helping heal my heart. And he wrote me back. It's like there is finally someone who truly understands the emotional impact of a traumatic birth injury. While I married for love and at an age that was definitely considered adult, and had all the advantages of a wealthy western nation's health care at my disposal, the injury still happened and it still wounded my heart just as much as it wounded my body. So while my story is not entirely like those of the young women in his book, our hearts echo the same refrain.
And so it is true that his book is healing my heart like nothing else. And it is also true that story is a way that God's Spirit binds up our wounds. The stories of the women from Ethiopia are doing just that for a redhead in Canada. His words found their mark - my heart. And such is the way that God heals.
Overheard
The other day some friends of ours were discussing my usage of "Inkling" on everything. They thought it must symbolize something, but they didn't quite know what that might be. When I told them, they had the typical "aha" moment, and then life went back to normal with our boys playing and the men talking and me sitting quietly and making sure no one toppled Grasshopper over in their enthusiasm for life.
Even though I feel as if part of my brain has disappeared since giving up all teaching jobs and moving to Canada to become a wife and mother, I still try to stay somewhat connected to my love of all things literary. It's not particularly easy when my toddler would rather have me read Goodnight, Gorilla five zillion times in a row. But I try. I even made the owner of a local used bookstore light up when I asked him if he had any John Buchan or Arthur Quiller Couch in stock. I think he'd had one too many people trying to sell him their cast off Danielle Steele's that day, and he needed a sign that not all was lost in the realm of literature appreciation.
So, do you have some literary loves? Do you too wish you could have been invited to an informal meeting of the Inklings? Do you wish you could have known Henry David (the original one, not my husband) to ask him about his writings and thoughts? Or am I the only one surreptitiously smelling books in used bookstores and looking to know Hugo Dyson and his fellow comrades a little better? Please tell me I'm not the only one. But if I am, maybe that's okay. After all, that leaves more Q for me. =)
Even though I feel as if part of my brain has disappeared since giving up all teaching jobs and moving to Canada to become a wife and mother, I still try to stay somewhat connected to my love of all things literary. It's not particularly easy when my toddler would rather have me read Goodnight, Gorilla five zillion times in a row. But I try. I even made the owner of a local used bookstore light up when I asked him if he had any John Buchan or Arthur Quiller Couch in stock. I think he'd had one too many people trying to sell him their cast off Danielle Steele's that day, and he needed a sign that not all was lost in the realm of literature appreciation.
So, do you have some literary loves? Do you too wish you could have been invited to an informal meeting of the Inklings? Do you wish you could have known Henry David (the original one, not my husband) to ask him about his writings and thoughts? Or am I the only one surreptitiously smelling books in used bookstores and looking to know Hugo Dyson and his fellow comrades a little better? Please tell me I'm not the only one. But if I am, maybe that's okay. After all, that leaves more Q for me. =)
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Bits & Pieces
So I guess it's been awhile since I've written. Life has been so busy, and though I've been learning and experiencing a lot, I haven't had a whole lot to say that could be shared in this spot. But I'll give it a try....
~ Grasshopper is growing. He is such a delight. He isn't talking outside of a very few words. I worry sometimes, but his comprehension and ability to understand are so great that I'm trying to just be patient. People keep telling me that he will be one of those kids who just starts speaking in paragraphs when he turns three. I hope that's correct. For now, we he's good at saying "no, bah (for bottle), bo (for book), yeah, mama, dada, ball, dat (for that)" and he makes various animal and machine sounds.
He still sleeps in our bed. Henry David is probably going to build him a bed of his own, and I'm hoping to move out my dresser and put it there until I can feel comfortable having him in the nursery. Because the nursery has the boiler closet in it, that makes me more than a little nervous. Plus, I like having Grasshopper close by. I sleep better and so does he. But it's getting to be that time where the mama and the daddy get their bed back to themselves.
He still isn't a great eater and he still asks for a bottle at night. We're working on this. If chocolate could suddenly possess all the nutrients of the fruits and vegetables of the world, we wouldn't have a problem. But as it is not the same as a green bean or piece of kale, I will continue to try to get my child to eat enough so he can grow.
He loves to help me with chores, regularly running "errands" for me around the house, emptying out the dishwasher and handing me the dishes, loading and unloading the washer, and helping me mop and sweep and dust. He's actually quite good at it. For 21 months, I find that impressive. The trick will be helping him keep that desire to clean and do chores once he's into his elementary years.
~ I've been reading. After a long time of literary starvation, I am making up for lost time. I read David Platt's Radical recently and am attempting to take on the year long experiment he suggests. I also enjoyed some books about First Nations, and one woman's journey through Labrador. And of course, I'm always checking out cookbooks from the library and discovering new recipes and methods of cooking. My latest find is a cookbook from Iraq. Books for Grasshopper are also on my reading list, with the latest being one on mollusks. (Did you know a slug is a mollusk? We have a lot of those, and he is very intrigued with them, so getting a book on them seemed like a good idea.) I'm in the middle of reading Ravi Zacharias' latest, Has Christianity Failed You?, and it is proving to be rather intriguing. I'm also in the middle of reading Chesterton's Orthodoxy, which is one that I've been wanting to tackle for awhile now. And finally, I'm in the middle of reading Catherine's Gift, which is a sequel of sorts to the book Hospital by the River about a doctor who pioneered fistula treatment in Ethiopia. This book is breaking my heart all over again, and as much as the idea of traveling to Africa makes me want to puke, the idea of loving on women who have been through a hell that I can definitely begin to understand firsthand makes me want to go despite my fear. I keep dreaming of all the things I would load in my suitcase to take to them. (Poise pads included.)
~ Speaking of fistula treatment....that continues to be a journey. I continue to press on with physical therapy to regain my ability to run and do anything requiring the use of my core. I go on a retreat in less than two weeks, and during the free time I plan to use that time to put my experience into official words for the official complaints. A part of me would rather just forget this part of my journey and go on with my life, but protecting other women from the poor medical practice of the folks involved in my case is a responsibility of mine. (God didn't give me a justice complex for no reason.) The surgery appears to have been successful, and though I still experience pain at times, the fistula seems to be gone once and for all. We still won't know for some months, but I am hopeful that my days of living with an abscessing fistula are permanently over. Now the hard work of getting back into shape after nearly two years of mostly sedentary living has begun, though it is hampered by not yet being allowed to run or do anything that would use my abdominal muscles to a great degree.
~ We are going "home" for Thanksgiving for the first time since getting married. I am excited to get to celebrate with Americans and really experience all the tradition again. I try to keep it up here on my own, but it's not nearly as fun. And it's also not nearly as easy since Henry David doesn't get American Thanksgiving off as a holiday in Canada, which means I'm cooking all day all by myself. So going home is going to be special. I can't wait!
~ I'm being stretched and challenged in a few areas of life, not the least of which is my collection of clothing and books. I'm being moved to share it permanently with others around me who actually have greater need of it than I do. So far, I've made some small attempts to share. Nothing earth shattering yet, but I'm on my way. A friend of mine was gifted with my favorite wool skirt and some favorite wool sweaters and some favorite tops. I don't know yet if she has chosen to keep them (if they fit and if she likes them), but I'm hoping they bless her in some way. My goal is to feel the "freedom we find from the things we leave behind".
~ We're doing a marriage book as the current study for our home group (a small group of couples from our church). The women are reading For Women Only and the men are reading For Men Only. We decided to do this after realizing that we collectively knew too many couples to count who have been married for years but are throwing in the towel, as well as other couples who were going through a tough season (us included). So we're reading the books and discussing them, and then standing together to commit to encourage one another in marriage and to stand by each other as couples. After that, we're talking about reading a book that deals with the whole idea of being "downwardly mobile" and participating in distributing wealth. (In other words, there isn't a shortage of wealth in our world. There is just a shortage of distribution and sharing. Not to be equated with socialism or communism, of course!!!)
~ This summer I didn't get to harvest any berries, but I did get to can peaches and make grape jelly. A young couple in our church are starting up a community garden on the hazelnut farm our church owns for next year, and I jumped at the chance to sign up for a plot. I can't wait to get back into gardening and putting up fruit and veggies. It should be easier next year because Grasshopper will be older and my health will be hopefully back to normal, enabling me to actually go pick berries and plant a garden. When they announced this idea on Sunday, it took everything in me not to cheer loudly. As it was, even my "soft" cheering collected stares and some laughter from those sitting around us. Obviously, I'm pumped!
I think that's about it. I need to get back to chores and completing my "homework" to facilitate tonight's home group. The chapter is on respect. I'm just hoping my questions resonate with the women in the group. We are technically the babies of the group, having only been married for 4.5 years. Everyone else is in their second or third decade of marriage. Bye for now....
~ Grasshopper is growing. He is such a delight. He isn't talking outside of a very few words. I worry sometimes, but his comprehension and ability to understand are so great that I'm trying to just be patient. People keep telling me that he will be one of those kids who just starts speaking in paragraphs when he turns three. I hope that's correct. For now, we he's good at saying "no, bah (for bottle), bo (for book), yeah, mama, dada, ball, dat (for that)" and he makes various animal and machine sounds.
He still sleeps in our bed. Henry David is probably going to build him a bed of his own, and I'm hoping to move out my dresser and put it there until I can feel comfortable having him in the nursery. Because the nursery has the boiler closet in it, that makes me more than a little nervous. Plus, I like having Grasshopper close by. I sleep better and so does he. But it's getting to be that time where the mama and the daddy get their bed back to themselves.
He still isn't a great eater and he still asks for a bottle at night. We're working on this. If chocolate could suddenly possess all the nutrients of the fruits and vegetables of the world, we wouldn't have a problem. But as it is not the same as a green bean or piece of kale, I will continue to try to get my child to eat enough so he can grow.
He loves to help me with chores, regularly running "errands" for me around the house, emptying out the dishwasher and handing me the dishes, loading and unloading the washer, and helping me mop and sweep and dust. He's actually quite good at it. For 21 months, I find that impressive. The trick will be helping him keep that desire to clean and do chores once he's into his elementary years.
~ I've been reading. After a long time of literary starvation, I am making up for lost time. I read David Platt's Radical recently and am attempting to take on the year long experiment he suggests. I also enjoyed some books about First Nations, and one woman's journey through Labrador. And of course, I'm always checking out cookbooks from the library and discovering new recipes and methods of cooking. My latest find is a cookbook from Iraq. Books for Grasshopper are also on my reading list, with the latest being one on mollusks. (Did you know a slug is a mollusk? We have a lot of those, and he is very intrigued with them, so getting a book on them seemed like a good idea.) I'm in the middle of reading Ravi Zacharias' latest, Has Christianity Failed You?, and it is proving to be rather intriguing. I'm also in the middle of reading Chesterton's Orthodoxy, which is one that I've been wanting to tackle for awhile now. And finally, I'm in the middle of reading Catherine's Gift, which is a sequel of sorts to the book Hospital by the River about a doctor who pioneered fistula treatment in Ethiopia. This book is breaking my heart all over again, and as much as the idea of traveling to Africa makes me want to puke, the idea of loving on women who have been through a hell that I can definitely begin to understand firsthand makes me want to go despite my fear. I keep dreaming of all the things I would load in my suitcase to take to them. (Poise pads included.)
~ Speaking of fistula treatment....that continues to be a journey. I continue to press on with physical therapy to regain my ability to run and do anything requiring the use of my core. I go on a retreat in less than two weeks, and during the free time I plan to use that time to put my experience into official words for the official complaints. A part of me would rather just forget this part of my journey and go on with my life, but protecting other women from the poor medical practice of the folks involved in my case is a responsibility of mine. (God didn't give me a justice complex for no reason.) The surgery appears to have been successful, and though I still experience pain at times, the fistula seems to be gone once and for all. We still won't know for some months, but I am hopeful that my days of living with an abscessing fistula are permanently over. Now the hard work of getting back into shape after nearly two years of mostly sedentary living has begun, though it is hampered by not yet being allowed to run or do anything that would use my abdominal muscles to a great degree.
~ We are going "home" for Thanksgiving for the first time since getting married. I am excited to get to celebrate with Americans and really experience all the tradition again. I try to keep it up here on my own, but it's not nearly as fun. And it's also not nearly as easy since Henry David doesn't get American Thanksgiving off as a holiday in Canada, which means I'm cooking all day all by myself. So going home is going to be special. I can't wait!
~ I'm being stretched and challenged in a few areas of life, not the least of which is my collection of clothing and books. I'm being moved to share it permanently with others around me who actually have greater need of it than I do. So far, I've made some small attempts to share. Nothing earth shattering yet, but I'm on my way. A friend of mine was gifted with my favorite wool skirt and some favorite wool sweaters and some favorite tops. I don't know yet if she has chosen to keep them (if they fit and if she likes them), but I'm hoping they bless her in some way. My goal is to feel the "freedom we find from the things we leave behind".
~ We're doing a marriage book as the current study for our home group (a small group of couples from our church). The women are reading For Women Only and the men are reading For Men Only. We decided to do this after realizing that we collectively knew too many couples to count who have been married for years but are throwing in the towel, as well as other couples who were going through a tough season (us included). So we're reading the books and discussing them, and then standing together to commit to encourage one another in marriage and to stand by each other as couples. After that, we're talking about reading a book that deals with the whole idea of being "downwardly mobile" and participating in distributing wealth. (In other words, there isn't a shortage of wealth in our world. There is just a shortage of distribution and sharing. Not to be equated with socialism or communism, of course!!!)
~ This summer I didn't get to harvest any berries, but I did get to can peaches and make grape jelly. A young couple in our church are starting up a community garden on the hazelnut farm our church owns for next year, and I jumped at the chance to sign up for a plot. I can't wait to get back into gardening and putting up fruit and veggies. It should be easier next year because Grasshopper will be older and my health will be hopefully back to normal, enabling me to actually go pick berries and plant a garden. When they announced this idea on Sunday, it took everything in me not to cheer loudly. As it was, even my "soft" cheering collected stares and some laughter from those sitting around us. Obviously, I'm pumped!
I think that's about it. I need to get back to chores and completing my "homework" to facilitate tonight's home group. The chapter is on respect. I'm just hoping my questions resonate with the women in the group. We are technically the babies of the group, having only been married for 4.5 years. Everyone else is in their second or third decade of marriage. Bye for now....
Friday, September 10, 2010
Where Do You Put Your Heart To Work?
Lately it seems that the world's brokenness is just so huge, so impossibly big for a 5'1" redhead to change. But like JJ Heller sings about how a cup of cold water can change the world, I keep on giving out cups of cold water and accepting the occasional cup that comes my way to help heal my own brokenness.
This morning I listened from our little den in Canada to my President answer questions. Someone asked him about the sorry state of something or other and asked for the reasons for it's brokenness. Of course, the President said something perfectly acceptable and expected. But inside, I kept thinking, shouldn't he mention that this world is a broken place in need of a Savior, The Savior?
Too many couples to count are being assailed until love begins to fail, hearts grow cold, and the fires of love and commitment die down and threaten to become ash. We watch on the sidelines, and sometimes we are in the horrible game ourselves. It's a fight. A fight to keep love alive. A fight to stay faithful to one's vows made before so much water under a bridge. We alternately cheer the ones we see struggling to keep on fighting, and then we fight to keep our own marriage intact and strong.
Babies are being born with Trisomy 18 and I just ask God how long. How long must mamas have bursting hearts? How long must parents fight for the care they need for their precious wee ones while the doctors and various organizations (social security, etc.) are saying that a disorder is incompatible with life and therefore not worthy of an effort or a fight.
The women and children in the Congo. Forever impacted in their bodies, minds and hearts. How long, Lord? Will You step in? They need rescued.
Those children in families in tin shacks on the side of a mountain in Guatemala who cling to life just as the tin of their home clings to the side of the mountain. Will their lives rush away like the walls of their homes when the rains come unrelenting? Who will come to them and provide even basic clean water and food and shelter? Who will keep them from harm? Who will tell them about a Savior? Who will be their savior?
A young woman forever altered because of medical malpractice seeks to get a normal life back and protect other women from injury. As I (the young woman) research this area to see about help and healing, I uncover story after story of heartbreaking neglect and incompetence. Who will speak up for the helpless? Who will fight an uphill battle against a modern day Goliath?
A doctor well loved in the community discovers he has Parkinson's. The disease is held at bay for a few years, but then it begins to show. What of his faithfulness? Who will be his Healer? He who has worked to be healing hands to so many?
Another doctor watches patients with months and weeks left here on earth and finds that all the important words to say don't often get said. He uses his time and talents and resources to write songs, lullabies actually that will soothe their injured hearts and comfort them as they face death. Who will partner with him to get these songs into every needy hand and every hurting heart?
Those youth on the streets on a Friday night. Looking a little lost despite being in the middle of the herd. Knowing that their home life is a bit of a wreck. Who will come and mentor them? Who will tell them that they were created as masterpieces with a purpose?
The original occupants of our lands, those aboriginals, natives, whatever label the area places on them, what of them? Displaced, addictions enabled, government that seeks to help too little too late after too much damage, high suicide rates, separated from the rest of society where both sides have become unwilling to understand and live together in harmony. Some of us long to reach out, but our color is the first thing they see and it is not at all attractive to them because of the history they carry in their hearts. Where will healing come from?
And I could keep on writing until my fingers were raw and bleeding from typing. So much brokenness. So much hurt.
So what are you doing with your heart and your passion and your resources? Where are you putting them to work? Where is your cup of water going to help change our world? And how in the world can I make my cup of water grow into thousands upon thousands of cups of water?
This morning I listened from our little den in Canada to my President answer questions. Someone asked him about the sorry state of something or other and asked for the reasons for it's brokenness. Of course, the President said something perfectly acceptable and expected. But inside, I kept thinking, shouldn't he mention that this world is a broken place in need of a Savior, The Savior?
Too many couples to count are being assailed until love begins to fail, hearts grow cold, and the fires of love and commitment die down and threaten to become ash. We watch on the sidelines, and sometimes we are in the horrible game ourselves. It's a fight. A fight to keep love alive. A fight to stay faithful to one's vows made before so much water under a bridge. We alternately cheer the ones we see struggling to keep on fighting, and then we fight to keep our own marriage intact and strong.
Babies are being born with Trisomy 18 and I just ask God how long. How long must mamas have bursting hearts? How long must parents fight for the care they need for their precious wee ones while the doctors and various organizations (social security, etc.) are saying that a disorder is incompatible with life and therefore not worthy of an effort or a fight.
The women and children in the Congo. Forever impacted in their bodies, minds and hearts. How long, Lord? Will You step in? They need rescued.
Those children in families in tin shacks on the side of a mountain in Guatemala who cling to life just as the tin of their home clings to the side of the mountain. Will their lives rush away like the walls of their homes when the rains come unrelenting? Who will come to them and provide even basic clean water and food and shelter? Who will keep them from harm? Who will tell them about a Savior? Who will be their savior?
A young woman forever altered because of medical malpractice seeks to get a normal life back and protect other women from injury. As I (the young woman) research this area to see about help and healing, I uncover story after story of heartbreaking neglect and incompetence. Who will speak up for the helpless? Who will fight an uphill battle against a modern day Goliath?
A doctor well loved in the community discovers he has Parkinson's. The disease is held at bay for a few years, but then it begins to show. What of his faithfulness? Who will be his Healer? He who has worked to be healing hands to so many?
Another doctor watches patients with months and weeks left here on earth and finds that all the important words to say don't often get said. He uses his time and talents and resources to write songs, lullabies actually that will soothe their injured hearts and comfort them as they face death. Who will partner with him to get these songs into every needy hand and every hurting heart?
Those youth on the streets on a Friday night. Looking a little lost despite being in the middle of the herd. Knowing that their home life is a bit of a wreck. Who will come and mentor them? Who will tell them that they were created as masterpieces with a purpose?
The original occupants of our lands, those aboriginals, natives, whatever label the area places on them, what of them? Displaced, addictions enabled, government that seeks to help too little too late after too much damage, high suicide rates, separated from the rest of society where both sides have become unwilling to understand and live together in harmony. Some of us long to reach out, but our color is the first thing they see and it is not at all attractive to them because of the history they carry in their hearts. Where will healing come from?
And I could keep on writing until my fingers were raw and bleeding from typing. So much brokenness. So much hurt.
So what are you doing with your heart and your passion and your resources? Where are you putting them to work? Where is your cup of water going to help change our world? And how in the world can I make my cup of water grow into thousands upon thousands of cups of water?
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