Glorious Autumn

There are times when I lay on the floor of my bedroom, curled up in a patch of sunlight, half delirious with the brightness of fall leaves and half suffocated by the suffering world around me.

There are days when I spend hours outside in glorious autumn, planting bulbs, brown, egg-shaped personifications of hope.

There are 43 autumns behind me now, lived out in Alaska, California, England, Oregon and Washington. Yet every single autumn I am surprised by the beauty of this world.

I have spent 43 years watching God move in my life, seeing His goodness, testifying to His grace. Yet every single time He shows up I am surprised by His love.

Last night I said goodnight to the kids at the bottom of the stairs, I turned and quickly walked through the dark office to get to my own much desired bed. My mind was on Saturday's dress fitting for the Nutcracker. Obviously absorbing. The next thing I knew something slammed into me. Hard. I flew back several feet and landed flat on my back with a force that brought a scream and sob simultaneously.  I was stunned and in pain.

After Dave got me to my feet (ah I could still use my legs, good sign) I realized that I had run into the half open door. The solid wood had pushed my glasses into my now swollen eye and propelled me backwards with the same force I had been moving forward. I had walked into a door...don't only old people do things like that? My tailbone took the brunt of it and is now officially elderly.

God has this same effect on me. I move through life swiftly, thinking, planning, organizing my days, and I run into the God of the universe. Sometimes He stops me gently, and sometimes He's a door in the dark. Sometimes I lay on my back longer than I need to, insensible to what's going on. Other times, I'm up and thankful for the direction, for the halt. Maybe, like last night, I hobble to bed wry and bruised and humble. 

But the overwhelming fact is God shows up. He cares enough about our lives and our circumstances to interact with us. He is unpredictable, yet consistently faithful. 

Tonight, the rain rolls down the windows of my home. The trees drip leaves of red and yellow. Avonlea plays the piano and sings and a gray cat walks into my room. I am again overwhelmed by the beauty of life. But the heights reflect the depths and I also think of the suffering of the world, of people I love, and of my own burdens and I lift them up to God. I remember that I am not an exception. This good God who shows up and guides and helps me will also be present in the lives of those in need. 

To live hope is to take a prayer, an action, a word and bury it, bulb-like, in the hard ground; to revel in the glory of autumn is to prepare for the beauty of spring .

Prone to Laugh

I felt that maybe we should have been wearing a label.

"Prone to Laugh." At everything.

In January, at a Mission Conference, I discovered that Sue Gilmore, a Capernwray legend, would be speaking at a woman's conference in Canada in May.

I sent out an email, would my Capernwray girls like to go to Canada?

Johannah was having a baby in March, Canada would not be realistic.
Chrissy was going to Disneyworld, in the opposite direction.

But Traci and Sara were up for the adventure. So we went.

Sara picked me up, whisked me out of a mind-bogglingly stressful May, and drove me up to Seattle to Traci's house. Somehow, I shed 20 years in the drive. Life became a thing to be laughed at again.

We left at 5am the next morning and headed for Thetis Island. A journey including 2 ferries and lots of driving and much laughter.

This is Capernwray Harbor. Unbelievably beautiful.

We saw Sue within minutes of arriving. She was surprised and astounded and happy to see us. And she somehow made us feel like we were AMAZING women for braving the journey to visit her, when really, the AMAZING is all on her side.

As a speaker, Sue was hilarious and challenging. She has lived her life for Jesus. Unabashedly. She is full of the joy of the Lord. She is feisty.

This is our little cabin in the woods.

If I had a dress or a pair of pants that I wore 20 years ago at Capernwray, I wouldn't be able to fit into them. Life has changed the shape of me. I was immensely relieved that I could still fit into the psyche of a young girl laughing at life. That with Sara and Traci, the core of who I still was rose up and asserted itself....even though Traci and I were asked how many grandchildren we had, by an obviously seeing-impaired elderly person. Even though I was asked if I home-schooled because, "you just look like a home-school mom." (Good to know. I obviously wasn't showing my tattoos and body piercings off enough. Probably because I don't have any.)

Trying to escape "Grandma"

And when we told people that we had been to Capernwray together 20 years ago and they replied that we had just given away our age. Traci piped up, "Oh we were very young!" and I backed her with, "We changed each other's diapers." Sara had to think hard about this comment, because we did so many wild things at Capernwray, she wasn't sure if I was joking or not. I was, but the three of us were laughing....laughing.....laughing.

I was glad to get home. Glad to see the faces of my kids.

But I also felt, that in a sense, I had left home behind me. That those girls, that place, that sound of laughter, was my home. That snuggled next to my friends, telling the stories of our lives, singing around the campfire, downing dessert, laying on the dock, worshipping God, listening to Sue and her English accent, were as familiar to me as my daughter's face. And just as dear.

Scotland

A friend reminded me today of a story that I began in the church foyer several weeks ago, I was interrupted in the middle of it, and it was left dangling, glinting in the memory with the allure of the unknown, unresolved. A half-told story is an appealing thing. And yet, my friend, correctly surmised that that is an analogy of life right now, an interrupted story, a thing of interest half-told.
Morning comes and the story I begin here is interrupted a dozen times over, but I know it will get told eventually. So I persist in the telling, I take the detours, but I always come back to the story in the end. And in the meantime, it glistens in the atmosphere of our day, a tantalizing reminder to my children that someone cares enough about them to persist in the story.
So despite the fact that summer has ended and the ceaseless rains puddle deep, despite the fact that we have transitioned into school and activities with a surprising resemblance to a Tasmanian Devil, despite the fact that I'm driving my time without a spare, I'd still like to finish my story of our journey this July.
So I will. At least until I'm interrupted.

We drove out of London up to Edinburgh, Scotland. "Drove" is such an easy word to write. But WOW! try driving on the wrong side of the road, in the wrong side of the car, on round-a-bouts with just under a dozen exits, and you have a panic attack waiting to happen.
Once we got out of London, we were okay. That's a little like writing "once we got out of the bear's den we were fine." We had enough mess-ups to stretch our 6 hour car ride into a 8+ hour car ride. Fun is truly not the word.
Anyway.
Once we got to Edinburgh, we lived it up.

St. Giles Cathedral

Edinburgh Castle



Mary Queen of Scots bath house. Love the idea of a separate, multi-storied house to bathe in.

Some monument to something.

Grant wants it documented that there was lots of loose change in this park.

Gotta love the bagpipes.

Sir Walter Scott's monument, one of Scotland's famous authors.

We ended up coming home with a reindeer hide and an Icelandic sheep hide.

Avonlea is carrying the aforesaid hides in this picture. Note the cobblestone streets and phone booths. Disregard the Subway sandwich shop.

Another angle of Edinburgh Castle.

Rosy and I in front of some happy houses.

Hanging out. On a canon.

We spent quite a bit of time on this canon for some reason.

This is the castle draw-bridge, going over the moat.



We only stayed in Scotland for two days, but we thoroughly enjoyed every minute of it. This is a picture of the country-side as we drove to Capernwray from Edinburgh. Can you see the lambies? See the tombstones?

I feel like Scotland itself is a story half-told, because I want to go back.

And this journey is still only half told because I have to go to bed.

But it's pleasant to have the unwritten words still dangle alluringly in the future.....

I'll leave you with a picture of a monument that they only got half way finished before they ran out of money. The Scottish people decided they liked it the way it was....there was something tantalizing in the very half-finishedness of it....

In The Beginning

In the beginning there were six happy travelers going on an adventure.
One of them was yummy.

All of them were eager.

We each had a carry on suitcase and a backpack. Each of us got 3 changes of clothes plus what we were wearing. The rest of the luggage was filled with gluten-free food because we didn't really know what to expect when it came to eating in England. And because, as we ate the food we could fill the empty space with souvenirs. I'm always thinking.

So, we had a 40 minutes flight up to Seattle. Still happy, still eager.
Then a 5 and 1/2 hour flight to New Jersey. Still happy, eagerness wearing a little thin.
Then a taxi ride at midnight from New Jersey to the New York airport (can you say free tickets?). We spent the night on the floor of the New York airport. No comment.
The next morning we boarded a 7 hour flight to England. Still happy but rather drowsy. We are not on speaking terms with eager at this point.
The highlight of the flight for me was Avonlea's conversation with a woman sitting next to her. I was in front of them so I could conveniently eavesdrop.
"So why are you going to England?" asked the woman.
"Our family is going to a Bible camp."
"Oh. Have you ever read the Bible?"
"Yes."
"The whole thing?"
"Yes."
"Do you have any of it memorized?"
"Yes."
"Would you say some of it for me?"
I waited in anticipation to see what verse Avonlea would choose. I was a little shocked to hear her begin quoting the book of Phillipians.
Avonlea told me later that the woman started losing interest after the first chapter so she stopped.!!!

By the time we got to London it was 11pm. We got a taxi to our hotel. We were all more or less just relived to be there and waiting nothing more than a BED.
We were trying to check into our hotel but there was some confusion.
Finally a man who looked uneasy (to put it mildly) came out to tell us that they had overbooked.
There was no room in the inn.
My children were sprawled out on the lobby floor (tile). I was exhausted and starving and not happy at all.
Not happy. Not eager. Not.

The staff apologized profusely and packed us off in another taxi to a hotel on the other side of London. We fell onto beds and slept for 11 hours. I was awakened by the phone in my room saying the taxi from the other hotel was coming for us and our room there was ready.

Luckily we hadn't taken anything off so we could basically roll out of bed and into the taxi.

 So we began, 3 days after we had left home, our adventures in England.
And we were happy. And eager.

And one of us was yummy.