Hello, my long lost journal friends...
Life is such an
ebb and flow, isn't it.
Sometimes the statements made
by penning your experiences actually
end up going by
out of an expressed silence.
That silence for me,
is one created out of moments,
connected by thoughts,
kept hidden by seasons simply to ponder.
Till one day, you wake up
with new thoughts ready to be
shared...
Welcome with love
Livia Jane
{smile}
Let's get reacquainted shall we? Our family has been a bit off-grid this last month. But now that we are safe and settled into our new gig, I hope that this space of mine will again reflect the dailies of our fun little clan.
We have loved our Portland adventure! It has literally altered the trajectory of our lives in such significant ways that it will forever impact who we are and our ability to radically lay down our lives for the kingdom of God. I'm learning that it is the only way to live.
While the rest of the family were packing up the big yellow truck, Nicholas was attending GU 2011. After loving CBC youth ministry and admiring the character of its leadership from afar, it was an amazing privilege for our oldest not only to attend this in-house conference but also to call it a personal group of friendships that, old and young, will last him for years to come.
Which lands us at our temporary digs. It's fully furnished, and a joy to inhabit, especially since the morning view is this...
And when the sun rises over those mountains, I almost consider becoming a morning person...but not quite.
So while all the beautiful belongings that make up our BeHome joys are sitting in a big metal unit, we ourselves are alive and well living a new and exciting experience to end all experiences!
And there's the man himself, walking across the parking lot, with the humble privilege to lead pastor a new congregation of amazing people. I love this picture. It seems that our whole journey is spoken in it's context.
Have you ever believed that there is something inside you that is growing? Something that was given to you in your innermost being that makes you feel most alive. Every once in awhile you taste it or touch its effects on your life. Maybe it's through a conversation that went far deeper then the friendships involved, but yet were somehow intensely wrapped up in them as well. Maybe it was in a moment when nothing on the outside was special per se but on the inside, for an instant, you felt aligned. Maybe it was something that took you altogether by surprise and you knew there was more designed, more created, more birthed in the days ahead for you. Where is the moment when you discover that what is yet ahead of you is more accurately you than what you've lived so far? And how do you make sense of the choices that define how close you get to becoming... {you}
My family and I are making one of those choices. Not the last choice to be made or maybe even the most significant one, but one that marks out quite tangibly fear in the One who created you. Who created us, our family. As Psalms 47:4 says, "He chose our heritage for us..."
We are moving to Portland, Oregon. A place that is many miles from were we are now. In order that it may bring us to a place where we long to journey in the many roads ahead. Beautifully, our children are excited to see what may become of it as well. It probably won't be a long stay, maybe a couple of years. It is an opportunity that, once presented, we just couldn't get it out of our minds and hearts. And mostly because it touched that part of us that has been growing into being the most...{you}
I love China.
I love the people. I love the culture. I love the nation. It's hard to know which came first, whether it was a heart for the faraway nation itself or the adoption of one of its abandoned beautiful daughters. I guess it doesn't take much imagination to understand the weaving that both have done in my heart over the many years. But since we have brought Annika home a strange weaving of another kind has happened. Of course there is the heart of a mother expanding the resources of her love for yet another child, but this particular weaving is in the hearts of my men.
They all, husband and sons alike, have taken all things Chinese into the fabric of their daily thinking. Some of this is to be expected. Not a day goes by but that Annika's heritage finds it's way into our thoughts and feelings. But beyond that is the longevity of the conversations that seem to springboard from these things. Sometimes I hear them wrestling with the thought of whether they want to go on vacation or back to China! And my men love their beach time, let me tell ya.
And than there is the child like faith of my smallest man. Today he asked how long we would all be staying in China the next time we went. All of us, as in the whole family is going next time, apparently. I answered with the standard 2 weeks, even though it was 3 weeks with Annika. George's reply was that he hoped it would be 11 weeks! In fact, he followed that up with he hopes just to go live there awhile. Dreams start young my friends.
So in the smallest way, we chip at the understanding of all things Chinese. For us. For Annika. For our dreams.
:: Chinese New Year celebrated at the Nelson-Atkins Museum
:: Even the massive statues bring understanding. All idols hold the same empty space and the philosophies that they embody do nothing for the redemption of the human soul, for they are dead. The underground christian church of the chinese people is a heartbeat of truth resounding in the midst of it's suppression. Pray on.
Everyday these two become more and more of two peas in a pod. The symphony of personalities meshing into pure fun is a beautiful thing to behold. Some days when I spend all my morning tutoring the older boys I wonder what these two preschoolers could be learning if I had more one on one time with them. But in this past week I have realized that there will always be something more to sit and read or cut and paste, however, learning to be best friends with your family members is worth every moment that imaginary play together can foster.
:: The masterpieces of George and Annika include a family portrait of us at the beach-house and the organizing of our library books just right and then dancing around them with joy!
As the last few warmer days slip out of view and even with the sunshine the air has a chill, I am reminded how much I love the seasons - again. Tomorrow is the highlight of autumn. A gathering to feast on the harvest of the crops planted so lovingly many moons ago. I cannot deny that I am a suburban dweller and therefore have very little interaction with the sowing and reaping effect on what we daily consume. There are many things in this modern age that we can only employ our imaginations instead of our experiences.
But even so, harvest time is full of the benefits of thanksgiving. No matter how far removed from the point of origin we know the satisfying nature and comfort of food in good supply. This Day of Thanksgiving is a moment of remembrance. To the days of plenty and also the days in need of prayer, both are seasons and as such draw us toward a thankful heart today.
Some days feel so full that I use all of my precious moments encased in a very serious state of mind. I end the day wondering what it was that I accomplished. Yes, we did get further in our school books than the day before but not as far as I wanted. Yes, I did get some laundry done but not as many loads as necessary. And yes, I did get to interact with my beautiful children all day long but so many other ideas that could have been done together never happen.
So today I had an hour. All the children were doing other things quietly and alone (it's required, not a natural occurrence!). I decided to turn on the fireplace (a modern term that kills the romance of any writing to be sure). It was pleasant. Next I choose a book. No small feat when you're wanting something just right. Finally, to decide what is the closest thing I can cuddle up in. A lovely shawl that was knit by my aunt. Perfect.
And it was perfect. It revived the soul.
Later in the evening, fire still blazing, Andrew came home and my kiddos all wandered around the living room. Per chance we picked up a library book - Vile Verses by Roald Dahl. I had to laugh at particular poem taken from an excerpt from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. I, as follows, share it with you. But you must read it out-loud, verse doesn't sound the same without the rhythm of your voice partaking in the fun. And, you must read it with my previous "soul reviving" thoughts interwoven. Because as confessions go, my children will be watching a movie following the writing of this post! So here goes...
Concerning Mike Teavee
The most important thing we've learned,
So far as children are concerned,
Is never, never, NEVER let
Then near your television set -
Or better still, just don't install
The idiotic thing at all.
In almost every house we've been,
We've watched them gaping at the screen.
They loll and slop and lounge about,
And stare until their eyes pop out.
(Last week in someone's place we saw
A dozen eyeballs on the the floor.)
They sit and stare and stare and sit
Until they're hypnotized by it,
Until they're absolutely drunk
With all that shocking ghastly junk.
Oh yes, we know it keeps them still,
They don't climb out the window sill,
They never fight of kick or punch,
They leave you free to cook the lunch
And wash the dishes in the sink -
But did you ever stop to think,
To wonder just exactly what
This does to your beloved tot?
IT ROTS THE SENSES IN THE HEAD!
IT KILLS IMAGINATION DEAD!
IT CLOGS AND CLUTTERS UP THE MIND!
TI MAKES A CHILD SO DULL AND BLIND
HE CAN NO LONGER UNDERSTAND
A FANTASY, A FAIRYLAND!
HIS BRAIN BECOMES AS SOFT AS CHEESE!
HIS POWERS OF THINKING RUST AND FREEZE!
HE CANNOT THINK - HE ONLY SEES!
"All right!" you'll cry. "All right!" you'll say,
"But if we take the set away,
What shall we do to entertain
Our darling children! Please explain!"
We'll answer this by asking you,
"What used the darling ones to do?
How used the keep themselves contented
Before this monster was invented?"
Have you forgotten? Don't you know?
We'll say it very loud and slow:
THEY...USED...TO..READ! They'd READ and READ,
AND READ and READ, and then proceed
TO READ some more. Great Scott! Gadzooks!
One half their lives was reading books!
The nursery shelves held books galore!
Books cluttered up the nursery floor!
And in the bedroom, by the bed,
More books were waiting to be read!
Such wondrous, fine, fantastic tales
Of dragons, gypsies, queens, and whales
And treasure isles, and distant shores
Where smugglers rowed with muffled oars,
And pirates wearing purple pants,
And sailing ships and elephants,
And cannibals crouching round the pot,
Stirring away at something hot.
(It smells so good, what can it be?
Good gracious, it's Penelope.)
The younger ones had Beatrix Potter
With Mr. Tod, the dirty rotter,
And squirrel Nutkin, Pigling Bland,
And Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle and -
Just How The Camel Got His Hump,
And How The Monkey Lost His Rump,
And Mr. Toad, and bless my soul,
There's Mr. Rat and Mr Mole -
Oh, book, what books they used to know,
Those children living long ago!
So please, oh please, we beg, we pray,
Go throw your TV set away,
And in its place you can install
A lovely bookshelf on the wall.
Then fill the shelves with lots of books,
Ignoring all the dirty looks,
The screams and yells, the bites and kicks,
And children hitting you with sticks -
Fear not, because we promise you
That, in about a week or two
Of having nothing else to do,
They'll now begin to feel the need
Of having something good to read.
And once they start - oh boy, oh boy!
You watch the slowly growing joy.
That fills their hearts. They'll grow so keen
They'll wonder what they'd ever seen
In that ridiculous machine,
That nauseating, foul, unclean,
Repulsive television screen!
And later, each and every kid
Will love you more for what you did.
P.S. Regarding Mike Teavee,
We very much regret that we
Shall simply have to wait and see
If we can get him back his height.
But if we can't - it serves him right.
Whoo! that is the longest post ever! Fun though!
Moral: So next time my "nursery floor" is covered in books pulled from their shelves I guess I'll smile before I tell the kids to clean their room! And hope that their souls were revived in the solitude of their imaginations.
My grandpa was a tremendous woodworker. I remember his workshop in the basement of my grandma and grandpa's home. The smell of wood shavings and a old tools was sweet to the soul. Grandpa left us many memories of himself when he went to meet his Savior many years ago. He was a wonderful grandpa so fun and humble. We named our son Peter after him, Lawrence.
But on Easter I have an bit of something more. I love so much to remember all that this holiday is. To understand a risen and relevant Lord both through the scripture and in the present moments of life. It's an extra sweet holiday when I set on the mantel reflections of Easter carved from my grandpa's own hands. For he love the Lord as well.
The wooden cross with symbols of the death and resurrection of Christ is a rare beauty when all I seem to find lovely for this holiday is full of bunnies and eggs. But I love those thing too. Which is why the other objects of his craftmanship are also deserving of a mantel display.
Every year my grandpa would lath a wooden egg. Each unique and a piece of art in and of themselves. He would always carve the date of each year they were made. I loved to see my grandparents mantel covered in these works of devotion to his craft. When grandpa passed away grandma felt we each needed a bit of his love for us within our own home. So every child and grandchild received the wooden egg of the year they were born and then one more that each person personally found particularly wonderful.
This Easter I know, as I have always known, that Jesus Christ lives today that I may have eternal life. But oh, how sweet that eternity when you anticipate a life lived again with those you love.
The couple in the frame are actually my grandpa's parents. It is a picture that graces our mantel beyond the holiday. I included it in the photo because my grandpa was the spiting image of his father.
Children's Hope International, our adoption agency, just got approval for rejoining the Waiting Children Program from the China Center of Adoption Affairs!
See how the farmer waits for the precious fruit of the earth, being patient about it, until it receives the early and the late rains. You also, be patient. Establish your hearts, for the coming of the Lord is at hand.
Behold, we consider those blessed who remained steadfast....for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking nothing.
For God is not so unjust as to overlook your work and the love that you showed for his sake in serving the saints, as you still do. And we desire each one of you to show the same earnestness to have the full assurance of hope until the end, so that you may not be sluggish, but imitators of those who through faith and patience inherit the promises.
James 5.7-8,11 - James 1.4-4 - Hebrews 6.10-12
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