Good Friday

Last night we celebrated Good Friday. We had a family meal together and read, the account in the gospel, of Jesus at the last supper with his disciples. Dave and I got down and washed our children's feet, encouraging them to go and do likewise. It always surprises me how some of us fight being served. One child refused to remove his socks. A Peter among us asked Dave to wash his hands as well as his feet. It's a vulnerable place. To hand someone your filthy foot and try not to anticipate judgement.

Five or so years ago Dave and I took the kids out to dinner for Good Friday. We had a large gift card to the restaurant so we let everyone order lavishly. Order, like they wouldn't have to pay for it. To our surprise, the gift card that we gave our waiter had never been activated. We had lived largely and had a debt to pay. Thankfully, Dave had money in the car and we were able to leave without washing any dishes. 

I'll never forget the the unwillingness of my child to uncover his foot.

I'll never forget sitting at a table and being told that what I thought would cover my debt, couldn't. 

I'll never forget the moment I realized I needed a Savior, my debt was discovered, my filthiness exposed. 

So we remember. 

A life full of moments that we entered into the life of Jesus, and He entered into ours. 

And we celebrate.

Because Good Friday, really is Good.

The world in resurrection!

Good Friday hike. Getting our clean feet dirty.

Loops

I like loops.
Roads that begin and end in the same place.
I like leaving and I like coming home.
I like continuity.

My first loop experience was at Capernwray where you left the castle door with a chum or two and came back to the castle door with an enlarged worldview or a poetic twist on your common ideas.

Along the loop you'd see things like this:

And this:

The beauty of the journey shaped my soul as much as the conversation enlarged my thoughts.

I have recently experienced another type of loop. This month, Dave and I celebrated our 20th anniversary. Since we met in England we decided to loop back to Europe to toast our twenty. So in May, Dave and I spent a week in Switzerland.

The Matterhorn

We spoke of our own 20 year loop as we looped along mountain passes and waterfalls. We let our eyes feast on the beauty and our souls feast on the faithfulness of God through the long, winding years. I had time to look at my husband and say, "Thank you. You have been a faithful, loving husband to me for 20 years. I appreciate it. You are more than I deserve. God has shown me His goodness through you."

Tolkien's inspiration for Rivendell. Valley of 72 waterfalls.

Dave had time to tell me a hundred times a day that he thinks I'm beautiful and that he feels very blessed to be my husband. I had time to agree with him.

He took my hand when we crossed the street and he put me on the inside of the sidewalk when we walked. Dave took care of me loving and it reminded me of all the times he has sacrificially cared for me.

 

We are starting out from the castle door again. A new loop with new views and hopefully another 20 years journey to look forward to. There will be steep hills and deep valleys and graves by the roadside. But I wouldn't want to walk it with anyone else.

 

A ruin/graveyard I saw from the town and felt compelled to explore.

 



Our hotel served afternoon tea every day and I loved it!!!

We can see some things on the horizon. Avonlea, our first born, graduated from high school three weeks after we came home. We have our foster care training in August. Rowan starts junior high in the fall. Rose got promoted to the next level of her ballet training.

 

You don't think of the Alps as being blinding, but they were! We could barely open our eyes without sunglasses!

But there are lots of bends and dips in the road that we just can't see. But we know who we're following and we know we will walk next to each other. So we trust and we set out.

I like loops.

Roads that begin and end in the same place.

I like leaving and I like coming home.

I like walking next to you.

 



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



Romance

The good news is I'm not walking into walls anymore when I try to go upstairs in the dark.

We are still moving in. Who knew it would take 6 months and many bruises? Not this little optimistic Eskimo. I thought I could do it in a week. Or so.

Dave started to help me put pictures up last weekend. You would think that after having 6 months to ponder where those pictures should go we'd be able to slap them up in a jiffy. I have made some bad calls.

Take the Lady of Shallot for instance. I love her. I thought I would love her in my bathroom.

But it kind of looks like she's trying to peek.

I'm not Lancelot and don't find this flattering. Or comfortable.

In other news...I went to pick the kids up at camp in July and came home with a puppy. Some women impulse buy shoes, I bring home pets. Pets that will someday be LARGE.

 But she's not large right now. She is the yummiest bear of a baby and her name is Pearl. The way I babble at her and cuddle her is proof that I should have had more children.

Two weeks ago we went peach picking. It was highly romantic. Almost as romantic as having the Lady of Shallot watch you take a bath.

Of course we couldn't eat the entire 26 pounds of peaches that we picked so we mixed them up with blackberries and made fruit leather.

Here is the peach/blackberry fruit leather before it went into the dryer. Doesn't it look like a big hearted swan??? I found this extraordinary and very romantic. Also possibly prophetic although I haven't figured out how.

Last week we went on our last summer outing as a family. We explored Fort Vancouver. It seemed symbolic (I think symbolism is romantic) that we step into the past before we step into the future.

Our future is this: Avonlea is a Senior and graduates this June. Grant started public high school. Rowan and Rose keep me busy as 4th and 5th graders at opposite ends of the education spectrum. Rowan wants to know everything because he wants to be President of the United States as soon as he turns 30. He eats up everything I can feed him mentally and asks questions that keep Google and I tight. Rose on the other hand has no ambition except to be a ballerina missionary. When questioned further she will tell you she wants to dance for Africans. But in general it's best NOT to question her further.

(She wrote a poem the other night that said "the moon is sining, all the stars sin together". She meant shine. She asked me if I wanted her to illustrate the poem. NO. No thank you dear, go practice your ballet.)

Dave and I's future is always together....for the romantic moments and the not-so-romantic moments. For the puppies and the starry nights (whether sinning or not)  and the morning fog. For the four lives that bind us so closely to each other and our God. For pumpkin patches and huckleberry picking and laughter.

A future built on a mountain of memories and a foundation of love.
So we welcome fall, I have a tingly feeling that it is going to be very romantic.

Clarification and 80's Love Songs

Apparently quiet time did not solve all my problems. I wrote my post last night and entitled it "Real Life" after the poem of the same title that I was going to close with. I forgot to add the poem and caused some heads to tilt in confusion. Sorry. I'm not going to post that poem now because it wouldn't make any sense with this post which is about '80's love songs. Did you get that?

Ahem.

So I have this fear. A creepy-crawly-hair raising kind of fear that I appear too spiritual on this blog. I don't want you to think that I only see the holy side of life, because that's not true. I see every side of life and sometimes I can focus right and see the eternal aspect of it and sometimes I can't. But I also see how far short of those holy landscapes I fall. Grace has to boost me up on a regular basis.
So, it's maybe misleading for me to write that I went up to the mountain and sat quietly for 16 days. Because that's not totally true. I had a couple unholy nights.
One of them started with my wardrobe selection. I was in such a hurry to get up there that I grabbed a basket full of clothing that did not match each other in the least. I had one outfit that worked. The rest were odds and ends and random colors that made me moan when I opened my drawer in the morning.
One morning when I was alone, I ended up in a light pink t-shirt with black undergarments. I looked like Madonna. This made me laugh.
That night when I was painting the bathroom I had a crazy idea. Dave had left his computer and I decided to turn on Pandora and hit their '80's love song station. I haven't listened to 80's love songs since the '90's. I swear. I'm really not sure what possessed me except the aforesaid pink/black Madonna combo.
The first few songs were about broken hearts and I remembered Page and I listening to them and crying. Not, mind you, because we had boyfriends that had broken up with us, but because someday we might, and wouldn't that be sad?????
Then I started listening to the words of these songs, and they were so funny.

"I should've known better than to fall in love with you...."
"Though it's easy to pretend, I know you're not a fool...."
"I'm never going to dance again, guilty feet have got no rhythm..."
"The beating of my heart is a drum and it's lost and it's looking for a rhythm like you..."
"Once upon a time I was falling in love, now I'm only falling apart..."

I could go on.
That last one was from my all time favorite 80's song entitled "Total Eclipse of the Heart." When it came on, my paintbrush froze mid-stroke and my mouth gaped. Oh the memories! Dancing in the kitchen on a summer night (by myself), riding the waves of that passionate song. Oh and here it comes...my favorite line...I have to sing it loudly...."I'm living in a powder keg and giving off sparks!!!!" Yes! Who cares that for years I didn't know what a powder keg was and sang "polygon" instead. It worked and no one ever knew. The important thing was that I WAS IGNITING!!!

I completely cracked myself up that night in the cottage bathroom.
I wasn't quiet.
I wasn't praying.
But I think God was entertained.
So I suppose it was holy after all.

Sometimes I remember...

Sometimes I remember.

I remember that I am a continuation of someone.

The source of the spring called "me" began long ago and far away.

I look at the place I occupy now and find it absorbing and it somehow nullifies the past by it's "nowness".

I have always been a wife, mother, teacher.

I have taught ballet at Friday School forever.

I can't recall how it felt to cook with gluten.

That's not the truth.

But I forget it's not the truth.

Tonight as I looked out the window to the balcony I caught a reflection.

It was a reflection of our bedroom.

Over our bed hung a sun and moon mask from Venice.

It's a symbol of dusk.

The calm luminiousness of the moon uniting with the blazing passion of the sun to form a union of moderation; peace.

I used to expand on this theme, every relationship had a dusk, I believed. The passion of personalities finding a safe haven of acceptance. The melding of spirits to produce beauty. The Venn Diagram of life.

I discovered all this while running around Europe.

I was in those days much more the beaming sun than the subtle moon.

I was impulsive and a little, well....wild.

But I was not finished.

God has worked and whispered and sustained and I am changed.

I lived today on fast forward. My full concentration was in the moment and the next moment, I did not once look over my shoulder, until tonight....

When I caught a reflection of the sun and moon that have given theme to my life.

Then I remembered.

I remembered that I am a continuation of someone.

And I am still going...

And this is good....

Because I'm still a little wild.

Passion #2

Boys and their frogs...........

You've heard of swimming with the dolphins....this is swimming with the frogs.....

Sit Fatty. (I didn't name him).

Medium size frogs in their aquarium.

I was going to post a short clip of Avonlea playing her harp...but I realized that I haven't related any one's passion pursuits but hers! So....we have Grant....eight years old and passionate about frogs. Yes, frogs. He has loved them for years, carried them around in his pocket, fed them by hand, caught thousands of bugs to feed them, and lost many, changing the ecosystem of Camas forever. So this year, being my year of encouraging my children's passions, we set up three aquariums. One really big one for his huge frog that they found camping in the gorge. (Dave and the kids were camping, not the frog.)

Then we went to a local park with a marshy pond. They waded in and got about 25 tadpoles and some froglets. Watching them grow was almost as fun for me as it was for him, they're so cute. They filled aquarium number 2.

We also received about 8 medium sized frogs from sympathetic grandparents. Those frogs reside in aquarium number 3.

He also has an aquatic frog, from a friend, in a groovy aquarium up in his room.

All that equals........lots of frogs of all different shapes, sizes, and colors. It also equals a very happy little boy who is learning to create natural environments, to study what he loves, to work hard cleaning cages and finding food, and to find endless enjoyment in God's creation. He also has an area of expertise now which has given him confidence. He's introduced countless adults and kids to the wonders of frogs, "do you want to hold one?"

Grant has always liked frogs, but in coming along beside him and determining to delight in what delights him, his passion was validated. I don't know how long this passion will last, but it won't outlast my passion for him and the things he loves.

Tire Swings and Roses

The two "R"s asked me to come outside and watch them play today. Well, sitting and watching just happens to be one of my God-given talents, so I assented. Posy was playing on the play structure. She was next to the tire swing, looking at it fondly. Suddenly she gave it a hard push. I winced. Sure enough, it came back and laid her flat. I held my breath and watched her reaction. She got back up, dusted off the bark chips, and walked away.

I have had something of this same scenario this week. For example, (I'll just pull a random illustration out of the hat), you surprise your daughter with a weekend away to the beach with friends (tire swing push). The next week your daughter is tired, whiny, and lethargic (tire swing lays you flat).

Here's another one that laid me out this week. Your husband finally talks you into letting him grow out his hair. He does and it's curly and you love it (t.s. push). An acquaintance tells you she's thought for awhile that you and your husband were separated and you were running around with some guy with curly hair. That's why she hasn't talked to you so much lately (t.s. lays you flat).
You get the picture?
They're coming fast and furious now. Not just this week, but from many weeks.

You spend your days teaching your kids. Rowan's first day of preschool he learns, "A-All have sinned." Any time you try to discipline him after this he shrugs and says, "Well all have sinned."

You lovingly tell your son to be quiet and go to bed and he responds with, "Okay if you don't want me to ask Jesus into my heart, I won't."

You tell your friend about a fun idea and she does it before you.

You love and it's not returned the way you want it to be.

The list goes on. The tire swing is relentless. I suppose it's the same theory of the higher you soar the farther you have to fall. Is the view worth the descent?
Yes.
I tried to live timidly for a while. If I pushed the tire swing, it was a baby push, one that I could handle the repercussions of. If I soared it was more of a hop, careful to keep the ground close by. That was the worst week of my life. And really, no matter how much you try to manipulate it you end up laid out on a regular basis for some reason or another. So you do what Posy did. Brush off the wood chips and walk away. And if you're going to walk away, you might as well walk over to the roses and smell them.

Passion

I remember once when we lived in our old house I came running in the back door, and I dimly but distinctly heard music. Chopin's nocturne in E flat I believe. Tears sprang to my eyes and I wandered into the living room where my sister was seated and said, "I love this house so much I hear music when I enter it!" She looked at me bemused and replied, "I left the stereo on in the bedroom." Ahhh, another moment of romance massacred.
But, thanks to God, I have birthed myself and not my sister. So I have a daughter who spins tales and weaves webs of delight and builds castles in Spain, just like her mommy. (This is the beautiful side of Avonlea and we'll save the gaps it leaves in her memory and common sense for another post (again, just like her mommy)). She dreams large scale and so I don't have the opportunity of fulfilling many of her dreams. (For instance she asked if she could spend her 10th birthday in England). But on Friday Dave and I told her that after two years of longing she could take harp lessons. I found a teacher and a harp rental shop, everything was go. She gasped her thanks and went to clean the kitchen (if you could call it that, this being one of the gaps). When I came in later she looked at me and said, "I'm not saying much because my heart is in my throat." Which put my heart in my throat, so we just looked our love.
This year, one of my goals, was to encourage my children's passions. I have spent the last several months talking to them and listening to them and trying to find how I could best help them develop their interests and deepen their loves. It has been eye-opening to say the least. Some of their passions are utterly foreign to me and others are beloved. But either way, I want them to know they have my sympathy and assistance. With God's help, I will never tell them that I turned the stereo on. Let the romance of passion be immortal!

PS I really love my sister.