What is ME

What is Me-->I say:
"I am NOT a morning person" = I get to be grumpy in the morning because I want to sleep more
"I am a yeller"= when I'm passionate, mad, sad, excited I yell, so deal with it
"I am a planner" = when YOU don't plan things, I don't want to do them; basically I'm more evolved than you
"I am a jealous friend" or "I just love you so much I don't want to share you" = I want to be the only one that enjoys your company because I always want to be having the most fun with the best people

This list could go on and on infinitum, but you've got things to do, so let me get to my point.  As a Christian, I can hold on to my "what is me," even if it is not the very best of me, and most people will nod and go on with their lives.  But what is gained if I continue to do this?  What is gained if I put them down, choosing joy and the Holy Spirit to show up every time "what is me" starts to show?  He transforms "what is me" into what is glorifying to Him, what is LOVE to everyone:

What is Me-->I say:
"Good morning lovely" (to my daughter & husband & myself, because I am a child of The King)= loving into the moment, allowing the Spirit to do mornings with me, leading me into each step
"I am listening"= I stop and listen well, and GO to where I am needed, gently remembering who I am talking to, and what they need
"How can we do this together"= instead of taking it all on myself, or accusing non-planners, how do we adventure into THIS MOMENT together, equally
"You are dear to me"=letting them know they matter, no matter how much time we can spend together, I care for them, and want to love on them whenever they have time.

I am currently re-reading Francis Chan's Forgotten God, and it is already pushing me to open the windows of my soul, and remember that the Holy Spirit is everything.  HE is my joy, ever present.  NOW.  I need to keep those windows open, and the doors too!  Throwing everything open to let Him take over all the "this is me" bits, so that he can glorify his name in all that is HIM!

Sometimes I mourn for us

Sometimes I mourn for us.
Those moments where we yearn for things we don't know how to ask for, for things we feel we should need not ask for--they are out of reach, our fingers scrabbling at the edges, ever close, ever unreachable.
Our anger comes in times of sadness, in times of fear, in times of loneliness, in times of misunderstood-ness, it comes. Always.  It is our shield--we can always rely on anger.
Those moments we scream out at the universe, and wonder why the birds don't scatter with fright at the monstrosity of sound, bees don't buzz away in fear, dogs don't tuck their tales and run for the hills--our heads about splitting with the sound, but our faces etched with vacant stares.
We are strong you and I.  Courageous, fearsome beings--but we ache.  We ache to be held in spite of ourselves, our retched selves with our horrible behaviour and in the action of pushing back from the table of humanity.  In our worst moments we want to be cuddled.  In our terrible decisions we want to be wrapped with warmth even though we have self-harmed and scared you too, brought tears to your soul for our sakes.
We want to be joyous beings--ever giving--ever loving--never yelling or scaring or making you sad and tired and lonely and weary.  We want to dance, to burst at the seems with laughter, the lines of our eyes being only from happiness and not from sorrow.
What is there to say--but God forgive us.  God, in YOUR great grace, in YOUR great name, hold us anyway.  Oh your peace is beyond all understanding.  Oh you glory too bright to behold.  All our stains melt away, your shoulders shoulder it all, your heart is never too full, and your fierceness only protecting.
To you all the glory, to enjoy you forever, to bask in your sunshine.  Ever. More.

The Glue's All Gone

My Daddy could fix anything with a bit of super glue or Duck Tape.  I accidentally knocked over one of my precious little statues from South Africa, the mother and child one, and it broke into pieces--my husband fixed it with super glue.  Super glue fixes a lot of stuff that we care about, but it can't fix everything.

When I try and just "hold it all together," but fall apart, bursting at the seems, and cracking in all most intimate details--super glue won't fix it.  When I tell myself to "just buck up," "be stronger," "be more independent," "be better"--super glue can't hold me in.  When I look all around for solutions to problems so much bigger than me--super glue isn't that answer.

And I think Jesus just smiles fondly at us, all a mess in our little brokenness, a puddle of tears and snot and ugly crying, and says, "Yes."   "You finally get it.  Your brokenness is the whole point.  I make everything beautiful.  Not you trying harder, being better, running just a little bit longer on those worn out legs--I. Am.  It."  How many times do we have to reach rock bottom before we remember Who is our Rock?  How many times are we disappointed with loved ones for not being enough, and even MORE for ourselves, that we aren't enough?!?  We think, "Well what am I meant to do?  Just sit here in my puddle and say, 'I can't do it anymore!  I give up!  I quit life!  I suck at this and I'm not trying ANY MORE."  Cause that is where I am on certain days where I just can't hack the hard of this anymore--I want to desert this army.

But I think, maybe I do need to  just give up.  We need to give up on thinking we can do it, any of it.  Philippians 4:13 says, "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."  Which in turn means, I can do nothing without Christ who strengthens me.

I think about Gideon a lot.  I just finished reading the story of Gideon.  He didn't think much of himself; he wasn't in a good place when God called on him.  But God prepared him, and guided him, and constantly reassured him.  And so he did what God told him to do.  And then he messed up some more.  And isn't that us?  We look backwards and see some shining moments when we bowed down low, and God was raised up high, and they were momentous times.  And other times we see the constant tragedy of our useless striving--paddling desperately for shore when we are stuck in a riptide.

Well I'm done.  I'm not striving.  Hell I'm not even dragging anymore.  If you see me, feel free to give me a hug, but be warned I might sob on your shoulder cause my emotions are all leaking out everywhere.  God has called me to great things, and I tried to live up to them...and failed miserably.  So I'm pretty banged up right now--but I'm done striving.  God IS MY STRENGTH--and He is it ALL.

"Lord you know this vessel is a million itty bitty pieces--but you sure do like a mosaic.  I'm ready Lord.  I'm ready for you to do and BE it all.  Please remind me daily you are my everything.  I'm done trying to take your place with my own power--it is useless.  Lord use me greatly for your honour.  Your power is the only power.  Your love is everlasting.  Your grace and mercy are all sufficient.  Thank you for drawing me into your kingdom.  Make me ready to fight."

Hills

I've just finished reading the book, 60 Degrees North by Malchy Tallack, which I highly recommend. It's a true story of man that goes in search of a stronger connection to the word "home" along the 60 degree parallel; he is from the Shetlands. The artistry with which he writes is utterly beautiful.  It is a long drink of water, drawing on historical, cultural, and geographical information to give the reader a great amount to think about and consider.

As Dave and I drove back from our second annual Valentine's trip to Pitlochry, on what is turning out to be a very white time of the year, I looked out over the snow dusted hills and considered what "home" means to me.  Growing up in the Piedmont of N.C., hills were plentiful, but mountains were a small drive away.  Yet when I consider some of my favourite memories, hills are etched in everywhere.  From camping at Morrow Mountain twice yearly with my family, to skiing in the mountains of West Virginia, to seeking solace in the Smokey Mountains where a part of my "home" still lingers, my heart seeks to be on a higher plain.  Even in the High Desert of California, I felt closer to God, closer to the desires of my heart, closer to being at peace.  I like the view from the top, but my husband would tell you I'm reluctant to climb (which is not untrue; I'm lazy).  However, when I can muster the clearheadedness of action, knowing I will love the feeling of seeing from a higher space, I love looking down on the bigger picture.

Where is "home" for you?  Thankfully there are mountains everywhere; hills in lots of places.  Wherever God calls us, he can lead us "home."  He is on the mountain, and the valley.  If we anchor ourselves in Him, we can go wherever the winds blows us, and never be far away.

Seasons

We went.  We laughed.  We cried.  We talked...Fiona talked a lot.  For all of November, Fiona and I stayed with Grandma and Grandpa-Daddy, and it was good.  I had the privilege of sitting with him through his November chemo sessions--he now has a closed chest port that helps administer his intraveinous chemo more easily.  His symptoms stayed away for most of the month.  We went to a Hornet's basketball game, the local professional team, with my little sister, and Dad's little sister, Aunt Cathy, and it was a great game.   We went to the beach together--he played in the pool with Fiona and her cousin Kemp, and some of us even chanced the cold ocean water.  Every night I hugged and kissed him goodnight.  Every night I thought, "What else? Is there something else I wanted to say, or do, or show him?"  But I'll always be asking that question, even if he lives to 100.  He is still doing well, though chemo is up and down with different numbers rising or falling, as seems to be common.  And so it goes on.  The new chemo is showing promise, but new things have continued to pop up.  I have hope for this new year, as I do every year, that it will come with blessings--blessing of hard times and good times, joy and sorrow, strengthening and weakening at different times.  And so my hopes for the new year come in waves on the morrow....

~run with abandon--even if that's only after Fiona and her new bike skills
~hope for a visit, here in Scotland, from my parents
~pursue adoption
~finally get my yoga certifications (emails were sent today!)
~read more literature that pushes me; challenges
~see more of Scotland with my family--camp more!
~let more things go--dirty dishes/clothes/house--pursue people--have great relationships!

So there it is.  Here's to a bright 2016 (though I'm in Scotland, so the "bright" is purely metaphorical, you understand)

Mist

There is a morning mist rising from the hills, and I wish my soul were rising with it.  The sun shines hopefully through the clouds, and I grasp at them to join in their hope.  The washing machine whirrs, Fiona plays in her room, and my coffee steams beside me; it is a normal day, and life continues.  And yet, my normal has come crashing down.

Yesterday, we found out that Daddy's cancer has once again spread.  More tumours have appeared in his lungs, and at least one in his pancreas.  While he and my mom have only been back in Papua New Guinea for three months, they are now returning to The States to start new treatment.  And I ache for them.  I am so proud of the choices they have made, to become missionaries, to return to mission work even when it was a difficult choice, an uncomfortable one.  I know they trust Him with this too, this returning, this continued fight for a "new normal" health.  And selfishly I ache for myself...

His traveling will be restricted, meaning they won't be returning to Scotland for a visit on the way home.  His energy is low, and I think of all the things I wish I had done with him while he could still do it all.  And yet, I know it would never be enough.  I am starting to prepare Fiona for Grampa-Daddy's new look--he's already lost 20 lbs since Christmas, and she hasn't seen him since his hair has turned completely white, though even that may not be around much longer.

I feel bereft of solace, and yet I know My Comforter is here, His arms around me.  It is enough that He will walk with us in this.  Healing may come, I have faith He can heal.  But He doesn't need to for my trust in Him to continue.  His glory from our weakness.  His grace and mercy in our pain--a kind parent to hold us in this time.  I pray for His glory in everything, for hearts to turn to Him.

So Fiona and I will return to The States soon too, probably for an extended visit.  Most likely we will be there for a month, maybe November.  The plans will have to come together quickly, so please pray for all wisdom given to us that we make the right decisions.  God is in this season.  It will be hard to be away from Dave for so long, but he and I want to make the best of this time.  We will need support, and I know God will provide dear friends.

And the sun lifts, and warms my legs.  The coffee brightens my eyes.  Change is coming swiftly--I will embrace it as a friend.

She Wants to be Everything

She wants to be everything.  She is a ladybug, a butterfly, a princess, a doctor---all this in dress-up clothes includes: play high heals, 4 tutus, a ladybug costume with antennae and wand, butterfly wings, and a doctor's smock.  I laugh a bit, and think, "Don't we all," or "She's trying to be a woman, and do everything at once."  But then I get a bit more introspective.

I am of the generation who was told, "You can be anything you want to be!"  I somehow always doubted that.  What if I want to be a squirrel?  Or closer to reality, an olympic gymnast like I pretended when I was little?  Was I from a family who could throw all its money at me doing that day in and day out for a dozen years, disregarding my other four siblings and their needs? No. That wasn't in the cards.    But that's what everyone thought would help us be motivated to "be" something great.  I remember repeating that mantra when I was first teaching.  How silly.  It's not that we should hope for the attainable, that's missing the point.  It's that we were essentially told to put our worth is something we could "do" or a label that would eventually mean something to other people, not what we were, or that we were loved.

What I want for Fiona is to continue to want to be everything, even a ladybug in her fantastical imagination (I hope she never loses that).  I hope that she loves reading as much as I do, and climbing as much as her Daddy, but I can't wait to see what loves she brings of her own.  But mostly I want to her know, that no matter what she does, she should do it with courage, dignity, love, mercy, patience, self-control; resting in the only label that will hopefully define her--Child of The King, a princess truly.  She will put on many "hats," or possibly tutus, in her life.  She may live many places, or just one.  She may get married, have children, or not.  But she will always be loved by The King.

USA Lovin'--a Celebration

These last couple of weeks have been heaven for me.  My little sister, B, came to visit, and she is one of my favourite people (my other siblings are too--come on over any time ya'll!).  It was a big deal for her to make the trip from North Carolina to Scotland, leaving her toddler and husband for almost two weeks (mind you, they were in good hands, with all the "grands" and Aunt Shannon there to help).  I know she missed them terribly, but she was such a joy to have here.

Showing her our little slice of Scotland helped me love it even more.  She just kept saying, "How do you get used to this place?  It's so beautiful!"  And I kept replying, "I don't.  I hope I never get over it." We went places I hadn't seen before here, and I marvelled at their beauty.  Our trip to London renewed my sense of awe in the history of this country, the "oldness" always reminding me of the youth of my own.  And yet, as we tried to celebrate American Independence Day in London at a kitsch American themed pub party, I began to visualise a list of the things I miss about The States.  B says it seems I never have anything good to say about my home country anymore, and I was sorry to hear that, though in my conversations about controversial things I have imitated that statement.

My memories of our 4th of July celebrations over the years always make me smile.  I don't know how many American flag shirts I've owned over the years--probably the majority being from Old Navy.  The 4th celebrations usually include some body of water, whether that be the beach, lake, or just a swimming pool.  Hamburgers and hotdogs on a grill, some music blaring, watermelon, sweet iced tea, and lots of heat (it's HOT in The South in July!).  Once it gets dark, we find out way to some fireworks--if we're at the beach, we watch them from the porch or maybe take a drive to see some more professional ones.  And this gets me thinking that Americans sure love to celebrate things.  Just look at our holidays--we have a lot of them.  And some people say we are all just about consumerism, commercialism, and Hallmark, but under all that is the good stuff.  We like to hope for things.  We like to make a big deal, a giant party, and whoop and holler!  I miss that--making a big deal out of celebrations--really celebrating the joy of whichever holiday is present.

Impromptu gatherings.  That's another thing I miss.  I love it here, but people don't seem to like surprises.  Growing up, and even after I was married, I don't know how many Sundays I ended up at someone's house for lunch after church, or had someone over on a whim.  The meals weren't usually elaborate, and sometimes involved tossing in a frozen pizza, but it was all about being together.

And here's a few small ones:
-sweet iced tea
-okra
-American Chinese food (I know it's not authentic, but it's what I know)
-fireworks
-pick-up trucks everywhere
-the Southern drawl
-Sonic
-Southern bbq...& hushpuppies

So there's a couple of things, and I know there are more, but that's the first instalment of USA lovin'.  Sorry I haven't written in awhile.  I miss you already B!  Come back and celebrate some more with me soon!

In Need of a Sisterhood

Why are there so many books, TV shows, and movies about "sisterhoods;" three or four girls who grow up best friends, inseparable, sharing everything?  Because that's what we want, what we wish we had, what we wish we were capable of.  Sometimes we even think we are not worthy of it, maybe because we don't think we can be that kind of friend, even if we want that kind of friendship.  We want to be sought out, not always having to do the seeking.  We want to be invited and included.

 I say "we," but what I really mean is "I."  I ache to be known, understood, allied with.  This world tells me I am strong, independent, can do anything--and that's great.....and lonely.  I want to be strong, with some amazing women by my side.  I want them to have their own adventures, to share in the joy of their highs, and sympathise and empathise with their lows.  I want to build them up, and be built up.  I want a sisterhood.  Think of some great ones you got to "share" in within literature or some other medium.  The first few I can think of are The Babysitter's Club, The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, and Charlie's Angels.  I even think of Hermione from Harry Potter, and I wonder if she ever felt lonely with just Harry and Ron--I mean, she was much smarter than the two of them, and pointed out quite often that she had different feelings and emotions than they did.  Didn't she ever just want some girl friends her own age?

God created us in his own image.  Us and the other ones--our counterparts.  But we are uniquely imaged aren't we?  As women we feel, express, and don't consider we experience something unless we share it with someone else.  Therefore, if God created us in his image, then he seeks relationship too--yearns for it with us.  And even though I know this, and love it, and fall into His loving arms, I want these female relationships in the here and now.  I know what they feel like, have experienced them in wonderful array and length in many different places, and am still learning what they look like in this place.  So if you're a woman who is looking for friendship in rural Perthshire--look me up--I'm open for an adventure or two (just don't forget the coffee).

10 Years On

On April 8, Dave and I will have been married for 10 years. 10 years of marriage.  It seems like a huge milestone in today's society, where marriages last hours not decades.  And yet, I can't say I am all that much wiser.  I would probably say I have as much wisdom as a 10 year old child about marriage--she has a gist of it, but the finesse of doing it well is still on the way.  So from my 10-year old point of view, here are 10 things I've learned about marriage in the last 10 years.

1) Adventures are a must.  They don't have to be skydiving (although that is definitely on my bucket-list), but a cliff jump here and there, or a mountain bike adventure, or maybe just a daring dinner entree bring you closer together.  Memories of the times when you tried something together cement your "togetherness," especially if it didn't go exactly as planned (food poisoning anyone?). Before we were married, we went on a short road trip through part of southern Ireland.  For our anniversary we are doing it again, five days just the two of us!  New memories and adventures to come!

2) His/her family is your family--learn to love them.  Just the other day I said, "We could holiday with everyone this year! Your sister and her family, and your parents, all the kids together...I would be with your family, how could I NOT have fun?"  And you know what, I meant every word!  I love his family, because they love him, and they made him who he is.  They built him up long before I knew him, encouraged him to take chances, travel, and that's how he met me.  But even more than that--they are kind and generous, and fun, and they love me and our daughter.  Yes we still argue sometimes, like all families do, but that just means we care enough to not always nod and agree.

3) Compromise will make you happier.  I liked to do the dishes as the last bite of dinner was scraped off the plate--jumping up and clearing everything away.  He liked to sit and chat, enjoy the meal and each other, after a day apart.  So now I sit, take it all in, and maybe do the dishes while he bathes the toddler, or more likely the next morning after my coffee :).  And he would rather get up on Saturday mornings and do something right away, but mornings and I aren't really buddies.  He lets me sleep, and we do something later, or he gets up and goes with the toddler on his own, then comes back and makes us all a big brunch!

4) How you spend your money should be a joint discussion.  We decided, probably before we got married, what was important to us when it comes to money.  We wanted to spend our money relationally--coffees with friends, flying to visit family, supporting others as they pursue lives of purpose.   That was our decision.  So when we want to spend money on us stuff, it's not a huge deal, because it's an exception.  We support each other's idea of what is a "good" way to spend money, and therefore we have no reason to hide how it is spent.

5) Your personal growth doesn't mirror their personal growth.  When you learn and change, it's often easy to think your partner needs to change in the same ways.  In my house, this goes a bit like this, "Hey I read this great article on parenting techniques today! I think you should check it out; you could learn a lot."  Which sounds like this, "You suck at parenting, and need all the help you can get."  Fascinatingly he doesn't respond well to that.  Instead, when I read something that challenges me, I should and can share it without any expectation that he takes that on himself.  We learn and grow in different ways, at different times, in different circumstances, using different mediums.  Encouragement in times of learning, and excitement when your partner shares with you makes for a happier time of sharing.

6) Expectations = letdowns.  Before you commit to someone, you have all these hopes and dreams, things that often they share with you in giddy excitement.  Often, after commitment cements, those hopes turn into expectations, shifting from dreams to weights.  Hoping someone will give you a good gift turns into disappointment that it didn't measure up.  Remembering that your partner loves you, and wants to give you good things, to please, is better than expecting them to make your life joyful.  Being joyful is your own choice, no matter the circumstance.  Don't put the burden of your happiness on your partner.  Share and serve each other, enjoy doing life together instead expecting them to give you the life you want.

7) Say "yes" more than "no."  He is more adventurous than I am.  My ideal adventure is reading a great book on an exotic beach somewhere.  His is taking a rainy walk on a Saturday morning.  But you know what, some of my favourite memories come from saying "yes" to things when I was thinking, "but I would rather just stay in my pjs on the couch."  This goes for other things too, and generally it turns out to my advantage to say "yes."

8) Be on their side.  We aren't the only ones that just want to be listened to sometimes, empathised with, and understood.  Does this mean we always have to agree with them?  No.  But in the moment, when they are hurt, irritated, or angry because of someone else, it's better to listen than point out errors they may have made, or play devil's advocate.  Later, if they need advice on a matter that is about their job, etc, then they will ask for it, or your opinion.  But just because you have an opinion, doesn't mean you always have to share it.

9) Remember how awesome you think they are.  You remember when you were first starting your relationship, and you told your friends about them?  What did you say?  Awesome climber, great listener, adventurous, funny, easily made fun of themselves, made others feel at ease, a good teacher, a caring leader.  Don't forget to tell them how proud of them you are, because they forget that they are still getting better, bolder, courageously pushing what "older" can do.  Be their biggest fan, not just when it's the two of you.

10) Grace, grace, grace, and forgiveness.  If I had to list every time I failed to do what I really want to do, I wouldn't have time for much else.  If we really believe that failure often makes us stronger, pushes us to try harder, toughens us for the truly awful that life often throws at us, then we have to believe that with our partners too.  Showing grace and forgiveness to our partners strengthens us as couples to succeed together, not fail alone.  It's not easy, still 10 years down the road I always want to be right, but saying, "It's ok...let's try that again...can we start that conversation over...I forgive you...I'm sorry," will always be better than, "I told you so...why do you do that...just forget it...I'm fine."

So thank you darling, for helping me along this journey so far.  I'm so glad we've experienced this together.  I look forward to the next 10 years of adventures....and beyond <3 br="">

An Open Letter to J.K. Rowling

Dear Mrs. Rowling,
   I hesitate to even start, as I'm not sure I've addressed you correctly.  Did you take your husband's last name?  Apologies if I have gotten it wrong.  I feel a bit silly writing you, as I know you are ever busy, and haven't time for even a small fraction of your fan's letters, but I cannot sleep for writing you this letter in my head; forgive me, I feel this is mostly for my own benefit of a peaceful night's rest.
   My father-n-law told me I should write you a letter, because I live just down the road from your house near Aberfeldy, and often daydream of running into you in a shop or pub, or perhaps The Birks Cinema.  I don't often take his advice about these kinds of things, so know this is quite out of character. Once, I thought I glimpsed you in the corner of a pub in the centre of town, The Fountain, and my husband thought I was going to choke just from your association!  I am always tempted to pick up extra copies of your Harry Potter books when I see them in the town thrift shop, just in case I need one handy if I see you.
   Let me digress for moment, since the chances of you seeing this are slim, and I like to write/chatter.  I own all the novels you have written, and have loved them dearly (ok, maybe not "Casual Vacancy," but all the rest).  I have read the Harry Potter books through each year for the last several, gleaning something new and insightful from each new read.  They are stories that inspire me, draw me in, and encourage through life's ups and downs.  The Harry Potter series is quite dear to me, because it has inspired a generation of imaginative readers.  You told them to be kind to the people who others aren't kind, to be true to their friends, to believe in each other, to be sacrificial in their love, to forgive (even Malfoy), to understand that people make mistakes.  Thank you.  For writing a story so raw and real in such a fantastical, creative way that we are still aching to be swallowed up by its pages.
   Reading through another of your series now, the Robert Galbraith novels (did you think of that name form the realty company around here, it's name is Galbraith, I always wonder), I am in awe of your writing abilities once again.  How you can first write so well for children growing up, and then still write something quite adult, a visceral crime scene.  I think my favourite thing about all your characters is that there are generally no "evil people"--main characters who we are just told to hate for no reason.  I love following your characters through their story as they make decisions that continue to make them into who they will become, and who they have already chosen to be.
  In closing, I just want to tell you again how big of a fan I am.  I am turning thirty-two in a couple of months, and having a themed party; can you guess the theme?  I'm sure it will seem silly to others, but I am extremely excited.  Dressing up as Professor Trelawney.  This probably won't be the last time I dress as one of your characters, and it's not the first.  So keep up the good work.  I hope you are enjoying it, I know I am.

Sincerely, Your Ever Adoring Fan,
Leigh Nelson

P.S. You are obviously invited to the party, June 27th, in Ardeonaig.  RSVP if you would so I don't have a heart attack.

Glass Houses

The saying "People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones" has, for some reason, caught my attention today.  The saying possibly originated from Geoffrey Chaucer (I say possibly because the "most accurate looking" website I could find on short notice was a wiki site, so that's a loose "maybe" when looking for facts and accuracy).  When this saying came to mind, I was thinking of my old pastor and his wife (and by old I mean, previous, because you guys are so young, hip, and trendy Jeff & Jodi!).  I was talking to a mutual dear friend yesterday about the two of them (all good things), and how we both love the way in which they pursue ministry with a life of humane transparency.  Humane in the way they continue to have faults, but loving in that they openly share them, confess them, ask for forgiveness for them.  Loving in the way they show grace and mercy to those who wrong them.  Down and dirty in the ministry of life.

So when the idiom "People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones" popped into my head, I thought, "Actually, shouldn't they be the exact ones that should?!"  The transparency that Jeff and Jodi exhibit reminds me a living in a glass house.  They surround themselves with people, invite them to see into the nooks and crannies of their parenting, daily exercise regime, and even glimpse into their marriage.  They stand up and say, "We are not even close to perfect, but we love God, and we are seeking Him in our every day life, please join us."

As a Christian, I think this is a true portrayal of the way we should live--humble transparency--glass house.  If we confess our sins (to God), open our lives up for others, and show that we have faults, that we are vulnerable, then we make it easier for others to hear us when we point out problems they may need support with conquering themselves.  Kind of like AA--addicts share their addictions, and eventually they are allowed to mentor other addicts, share their story, and help them on their journey of redemption.  

Some say the idiom refers to how people with vulnerabilities should not start fights, or how people with faults shouldn't point out the faults of others--a statement of hypocrisy.  And while the Bible backs up the statement that those who refuse to look at their own faults shouldn't then point fingers (Matthew 7:3-5), it does not say those who have struggled, stumbled, begged for forgiveness, and gotten back up, should not then help others to do the same.  In this way, we are throwing stones.  I guess it's another way that God is helping me see that life with him is upside down--my weaknesses are His strengths, showing others His love through what he can do through me.  We are one body, here to help all the parts to succeed for His glory.

Cuddles Lost

Dave's parents left this morning after a wonderful week of visiting.  It has snowed here on and off, and would have been terribly lonesome being stuck here without them.  We got to go on snowy walks, build snowmen, and Fi even got to sled with Nana.   As for me, I enjoyed playing cards and Bananagrams, and sharing tea and cake with Mervyn and Sylvia.  Plus, I got to go into town yesterday and meet a friend for lunch, get my hair cut, and wander through the thrift shop ALL BY MYSELF!  It was wonderful.  Not to mention sleeping in most mornings this week--in-laws are wonderful things, and generous people.  But there was something I missed out on; my Fiona cuddles.  When Nana and Pops are here, they get a lot of cuddles, snuggles, kisses, and attention.  And rightly so, they are special people and fantastic grandparents...but Mommy misses out.  Most mornings I would come in to Fiona sitting on the couch with Nana, reading books, and ask for a cuddle.  "No Mommy, Nana gets the cuddles."  Alas, I'm last on the list when Grands are around--oh well, it doesn't happen often enough, so that's alright.  But this afternoon, after they had left to catch the ferry back to Belfast, Fiona once again climbed back into my lap and threw her arms around my neck.  ~sigh~ I missed those arms, that smell, that soft love that only a little one can give.  I soaked it in.  I know I don't have too many more years of this left--but I'll treasure it while it lasts, then embarrass her anyway when she's "too old." ;)

Darkening Thoughts

I'm reading Lisette's List about a Parisian woman in a Provençal town during the Second World War.  Not to ruin the story, but her husband dies pretty early on.  I read mostly in the evenings/nights.  It's terribly sad, yet inspiring, but also makes me think dark thoughts.  What would happen to Fiona and I if Dave died?  How would I tell her she will never see Daddy again?  How would I not fall apart, oblivious to life outside of grief, for her sake?  What would we do?  Where would we go?  Would we stay in the U.K. or go back to the States?  Would we go back to the NC mountains, or near family in the piedmont?   How would I just put her in childcare and go back to work after her world has fallen apart?  How would I teach/work after my world has fallen apart?.....and the litany of questions goes on.  Most of the time, I can keep myself from these "what if" questions.  Is it ever a good thing to dwell on something that may not come to pass (for possibly quite a few decades)?  And then there's the good fear of "we REALLY need to make a Will."  Yes, we really quite should...must..eek can I just print one out right now?!?  Well those are my thoughts for today...just in case you were wondering.  ps--check out the book; it's good stuff, even the sad stuff.

Shlub

"Oh Danggedit."  That's what Fiona says now when she does something she doesn't like by accident.  Guess I've been saying the variant of that a lot lately, though it does make me realise I have cut down on hardcore swearing, so there's a plus.  It's raining, slowly washing away the snow and replacing the sludge with more sludge.  It was snowing heavily last night as I was driving home from book club, obliviously driving away from my lost debit card.

This morning, after I had already picked out things to buy at the bakery, I realized my debit card was missing.  I was instantly angry at Dave because he had taken it out of my wallet A.G.A.I.N. without telling me!!! Thankfully I had some cash--that I was supposed to use to pay a lady for clothes I was buying from her, which now I was short a few.  Ugh.  I immediately texted Dave "Did you take the debit?!!!"  And the clothes lady texted back with a "?"..."Ooops, that was for my husband :) ".....Then I called him, angrily, and yelled, which always makes people, especially husbands, want to be sympathetic of your stress and help you.  Then I realized I had used it last, as in last night, late, so he couldn't have done it.  Ooops.  Danggedit.  It must be me.    I was frantic, because I am anal about that card, and I always put it back in the slot in my wallet where it goes (but that slot is getting loose...), so THEN I knew it had to have fallen out somewhere....in the snow....in town.  I yelled all of this at my husband.  He told me to stop being hateful and he would deal with it.  He did, deal with it.  He called the co-op, it had fallen down the side of the cash register, he went and picked it up, using up his lunch break to go to town and back.

The "funny" thing is, I was late for a Bible study with a friend--rushing to get everything done so as not to be late.  We are studying a book that tries to guide us into better parenting.....hmmmm...maybe I need a marriage one next.  I feel like I'm actually becoming a better parent, and a worse spouse.  Double ugh.  We will have been married for 10 years on April 8.  I am so desperately looking forward to our anniversary trip--a trip just for us, not business, not Fiona, not other family, for a few days all to ourselves.  Blessedly, Dave's parents are graciously watching Fiona--she can't wait, and wants to go tomorrow.  I am thirsting for this trip, this time to reconnect, to remember that I was a wife first, and just to be his for a few days, to be each other's "person."

Until then I will keep praying for him, I'm pretty sure I've missed a day since the start of Lent, already. I'm going to do that now, and greet him first at the door tonight, and smile.

Putting On

The Starbucks New Mexico mug is my favourite.  I have quite a few Starbucks city & state mugs, and I love them all, but N.M. is my first love.  Every time I look at that mug, drink its steaming contents with a splash Starbucks caramel flavouring (no they are not paying me for all this advertising, but I wouldn't be against it), I think back to when I got it.  I think of that road trip where I really met my two sisters--one younger, one older.  Setting up the tent in the state park, we left the fly off because it was so warm. In the warmth, we decided to head for a night swim in the lake.  We ran down the boat ramp--three skinny girls in our bathings suits--right past the "no swimming" sign.  It was cold; we shrieked and took pictures and finally dove in for a quick lap out and back.  The fishermen on the dock laughed, and said they wouldn't tell, they were fishing beside a "no fishing" sign after all.  I think of the rabbits that kept running in front of our headlights as we went back to our campsite.  And always the millions of stars I looked up to as we lay in our sleeping bags that night.  I had never seen so many stars.  I would not think of that night so often if I didn't have this mug.  I would not think of how blessed I am to have two amazing sisters, and one very memorable adventure, just the three of us.  You two are absolutely stunning you know--don't forget it--God made you fabulous, and I'm so glad you are mine :).

I've decided not to give up alcohol for Lent--there are just too many drinking holidays during this 40 day period.  In all seriousness, I have decided to "put on" a few things.  First, I'm going to write every day.  Whether that be a letter, a journal entry, a love note, or a blog, just some form of writing every day to bring Him glory because he gave me joy in writing, and he loves when I am joyful! Second, I'm going to be more outward reaching--meeting people for coffee, or inviting people over, or just stopping and having a chat--all is welcome.  And lastly, I'm going to pray every day with and for my husband.  I love him, and I want to connect with his heart more, and prayer is a great place to start.  So there it is, my Lent plan.  Ask me how it's going--I'd love to chat!  Now I gotta finish my coffee before it gets cold...again.

Lent, Not the Fuzzy Stuff

This Wednesday starts the Lenten period with Ash Wednesday.  Growing up, I wasn't in tradition-based churches.  The only thing I knew about Lent was that my Grandmother celebrated it, so I figured it was a Lutheran thing.

The first church Dave and I immersed ourselves in when we got married was The Grove (at that time Franklin Grove Baptist Church--it later dropped "Franklin" and "Baptist," and became a non-denominational church).  Pastors also changed, and the new pastor brought new traditions, but also an opening of the church doors to flow out into the community more than into itself.

The outdoor centre where I was working wasn't too keen on Christians, as we tend to be relatively normal in our humanity, and screw things up quite often.  I was no different.  People there knew somewhat that I was Christian; I asked for Sunday mornings off if it was a possibility, and didn't get smashed and high every weekend, but other than that I wasn't too different.  People were generous there--inviting you to enjoy what they had even though it usually wasn't much--hippies are cool that way.  They taught me to be confident in my skin, my abilities.  But though they were open to belief in living the good life--being spiritual within nature and their own bodies--they weren't sure about church (unless it was their definition, smoking pot by the lake on Sunday mornings).  The Grove started to change that feeling.

The Grove started to serve down at the outdoor centre: serving meals when there were staff celebrations and having their band play good music.  Generally being around, meeting people, showing up to live life with people.  And not only at the outdoor centre, but in town too.   They served hotdogs and chips during the Halloween celebration.  They did a big production and free meal at the school gymnasium for Thanksgiving dinner.  The band won best float in the Christmas parade one year--I think that was the year of the Grinch theme, or maybe Charlie Brown.  A room in the church upstairs was filled with baby gear--clothes, diapers, blankets, cribs, etc, to give to families that needed them.  And during the time leading up to Easter, it asked people to do something different.

So Lent begins this Wednesday.  Lent is supposed to be a time of fasting--mirroring the forty days of fasting Jesus did in the desert, when Satan tempted him, but He withstood the temptations.  The first year The Grove talked about Lent, I decided to fast two things I liked very much--celebrity gossip & coke (aka all soda in The South).  I spent way too much time on celebrity gossip sites and magazines, and it was a wonderful thing to get out of that habit--at the end of the forty days it didn't come back.  Coke did, but in moderation.  That time was my first taste of giving something up for Lent.  But the next few years of Lent involved a bit more effort.  The Grove started to ask people not just to give something up, but to be more God-focused in their Lenten activities.  It asked them to research charities and give to one.  Invite people over for a meal once a week.  Do without a shower at least once a week, praying for those without clean water, and giving to those causes.  It asked us not to text or use our cell on certain days--to do everything personally, and talk to new people.

Every year since I have moved away from the mountains of North Carolina where The Grove Church is, I have looked at their Lenten calendar, and tried to implement as many of the things they asked of their congregation as possible.  This year I return to thinking about that calendar.

I thought about just giving up alcohol for Lent--I've been drinking more since I moved to the U.K.  Probably because it's more accepted here, and not the least because I have a toddler now who's constant energy and chatty communication drives me to the drink by 8 pm.  I think it would be a healthy abstinence, but I'm not sure I would really be giving it up for the right reasons.  Dave is thinking about giving up coffee, good on him, I'm not doing that.  We considered maybe being more active during this time, walking or exercising, yoga-ing every day--but that seems more like a New Year's Resolution than Lent.  I want to pray more, write more, exercise more, give more to people---maybe I'll do it all, but I'll probably check The Grove's calendar for ideas.

Whatever I decide, I want to make this time holy.  Focusing on giving of myself, meditating on the scriptures, and being Christ to people in the every day, even if that's just paying for coffee for someone who needs it.  It definitely will include trying to be a more loving, grace-filled mom to a loving, life-filled little girl.

Home...

Sometimes I wonder if I can ever truly be myself here.  I try to be myself, but lighter--like S. Africa's Coke Light.  Something that is me, but probably more of a heavy shadow.  I know how people feel about the U.S.A.  I didn't know until I was twenty.  The first time I really understood how "the world" felt about us, I was a gappie in Ontario Canada.  They "learned me good."  I was defensive at first, only thinking of the way I was brought up, and the things I believed about my country.  Then I started to swing the other way.  When I was home I could see how other people saw it, but they could never experience it like someone from there--someone like me.  It hurts to realize you have started to despise yourself, your country, because others do.  It hurts to see and hear yourself diminish it to nothing--its accomplishments, its progressions, its humanity.  America is me--I am from there, it is a part of me like every person who was born somewhere, who's from somewhere.  My nationality is American.  Even if I gave up my citizenship, which I don't plan on ever doing, I would be from there.  It is like family.  I know it can do amazing things, loving things, good things, but bad ones too.  I know there are lots of gun-toting bigots, but there are lots of gun-toting servants too--those who hand out food and money and clothing to those who need it, those who give up themselves every day to those who don't know them.  We like stuff--lots of stuff, but sometimes we give away lots of stuff too.  I know we like to promote old white men, but we're realizing that the colors of the rainbow can rule the world.  But sometimes I am sad, sad that everyone can't see the things I love about my country, and the things that make be proud to be me.  I'm sad I can't be loud and rambunctious and lively not be called an "arrogant loud-ass American."

I just read this passage tonight, and I'm going to quote it in its entirety, because it brought me to tears with its feeling of loss--real loss of who you are.  The book is called We Need New Names.

Look at the children of the land leaving in droves, leaving their own land with bleeding wounds on their bodies and shock on their faces and blood in their hearts and hunger in their stomachs and grief in their footsteps.  Leaving their mothers and father and children behind, leaving their umbilical cords underneath the soil, leaving the bones of their ancestors in the earth, leaving everything that makes them who and what they are, leaving because it is no longer possible to stay.  They will never be the same again because you just cannot be the same once you leave behind who and what you are, you just cannot be the same.

Look at them leaving in droves despite knowing they will be welcomed with restraint in those strange lands because they do not belong, knowing they will have to sit on one buttock because they must not sit comfortable lest they be asked to rise and leave, knowing they will speak in dampened whispers because they must not let their voices drown those of the owners of the land, knowing they will have to walk on their toes because they must not leave footprints on the new earth lest they be mistaken for those who want to claim the land as theirs.  Look at them leaving in droves, ar in arm with loss and lost, look at them leaving in droves. (p. 146)

I love this new place.  Its beauty inspires me every day.  But I know in my bones where my heart sighs, my bones lighten, my memory returns year after year.  My mountains, my rivers, my trees, my coffee shops.  They are part of me--who I am.  I can live somewhere else, but I cannot become someone else with happiness.  The land is in me; it is me. take me as I am dear friends, take me as I am.

I Am...

Strong, confident, independent, outgoing, talkative, energetic, sarcastic, fun-loving.  I am...daughter, mother, sister, wife, cousin, granddaughter, friend.  I am...  It's easy to start answering that with the positives isn't it?  Well, I'm confident, so I'll say yes ;).  But if I want to go the other direction, though not as fun, it's still pretty easy.  I am...often angry, a yeller, frazzled, impatient, ungracious, expecting more from others than I'm willing to give myself.  If I had to pick one that I feel has defined me for quite a portion of my life, maybe even most of it, I would say, "yeller."  I yell.  And in that moment, I feel powerful.  But in the next, I feel deep regret, to see the pain I've inflicted, pain that I cannot reverse, but only offer apologies for, try to mend.

As I was reading this morning, several verses stuck out to me.  I've gotten in the habit of reading a bit in the Old Testament, and some in the New, when I do at all that is.  In Psalms 9:20 it says, "Let the nations know that they are but men!" Ah, how relevant that is on a daily basis.  I am just "man!"  I cannot change things outside my power--I cannot bend time back and regain those minutes to do something more, or take back something that has been said, or change the weather to suit my needs, or heal a wound instantaneously (although kisses seem to work miracles on wee "boo boos").    I am but woman, do what woman can do.  Then I flipped (and by flipped I mean tapped as I read mostly on my iphone) to Romans 6:12, 14, & 16-17,"Let not sin therefore reign in your mortal body, to make you obey its passions...For sin will have no dominion over you, since you are not under law but under grace...Do you not know that if you present yourselves to anyone as obedient slaves, you are slaves of the one whom you obey...But thanks be to God, that you who were once slaves of sin have become obedient from the heart to the standard of teaching to which you were committed."  And here's what I got from that.  I am a woman, and can do what only woman can.  But I am a woman who has committed my life to Christ, have become a slave to Him, and therefore I DO NOT, I CANNOT be a slave to sin, if I am obedient to Christ.

You know I have heard that verse about not being a slave to two masters all my life, and I have always put weight on myself with it--just be better, you have to choose always the good.  That's exhausting!  But that's not what it's saying.  It's saying--you were chosen, and you chose Christ yourself as well!  Now you don't have to listen to that voice that says, "I must control it all!  I must yell and storm and rage and exert my reign!!!"  I don't have to--He will do it.  I just have to sit, and let Him!

Well, at THIS moment I must let him, as my toddler is banging on her door (she's supposed to wait on me in her bed).  I'm going to go get her, and hopefully bring her out to my lap, love on her, and pray for our family with her.  Thanks for letting me share with you today!

ps--the snow has pretty much stopped, but the rain and wind is whipping itself into a frenzy!  So there's ice, and a little less snow now.  Hoping the roads are clear on Saturday so I can go to Perth for thrift shopping day!!!

Snow Mom

I am sitting quietly in my living room, trying not to make enough noise to wake my toddler from her nap, as getting her to sleep today was an all-out battle.  Apparently she's "still a baby" and does not want a new toddler bed, but prefers to stay in her crib/cot.  Who knew.  I think I should have made a front-loading plan for this like potty training.  Oops.  Now I've got to hard-ball it.  Other than that it's a beautiful day out.

It's been snowing for a little over two days now.  I haven't seen this much snow accumulation since I was a 20 year old living in Canada as an intern.  There are feet of snow--British feet or U.S. feet it doesn't matter, there's both.  Our cars have slowly disappeared.  Fiona's little legs can't quite walk in the snow, and she doesn't really like being pulled in the sled because she keeps falling out face first.  Thankfully the powder is very soft, and she doesn't mind too much.  Her favourite thing to do is eat it.  "We" made a snowgirl today--putting pine bows as her pigtails.  Fi put on the arms and collected pebbles for the face and buttons.  She was quite excited about putting on the carrot nose we begged from the centre kitchen.

Last night we made snow cream, which doesn't seem to be a thing here--no one has ever heard of making ice cream from snow.  My Daddy use to make it any time we had a big snow as a kid, and I'm continuing that tradition.  We even put sprinkles on top, and had it before dinner--dessert first!  It's snowing again as I type; if this keeps up we are gonna run out of some essentials.  I think I might be able to barter some milk from the centre, and we have enough frozen food to last a few more days, so we'll be fine.  Thankfully Dave is all about making bread in the bread machine, we have two different homemade types right now.  We will run out of fruit and fresh vegetables after today, but we have pizza, mac-n-cheese (which I brought back from the States), and hotdogs, so junk food it is!  We also have gin, which is important, and some wine.  So we're stocked!

Even though it's been snowing for a few days, Fiona still says, "It's snowing!!! Look Mommy it's snowing!" every time it picks up again.  The dogs disappear in the drifts, and like it, except they would prefer grass to pee on.  I'm worried I'm going to loose them--white dogs, white snow--what could go wrong?

Well, I thought I would write today, because I haven't in a long time, and thought maybe something profound would come out, but that was pretty much a journal entry.  Well there ya go--a window into my soul ;).  I really should start the fire now as my nose is getting cold even though I'm wrapped in a big fuzzy fleece.  I wonder what the sheep are doing?

ps--I may participating in a Women's Rural olympics next week--apparently it consists of throwing beanbags in holes and seeing how many goals you can get with a soccer ball/football and the like--and we usually have the youngest team (aka some women in their 30's as opposed to 50's & up!).  Should be "good crack" as the Irish say ;)