Moving Forward: The Wedding Dress Project

The missionaries went to Rwanda this summer. They delivered our dresses. They came back - with more to do. I know their trip was deeply meaningful. You could see it on their faces, and feel it in their lack of words. But now, the dust has settled, and there is more - more to do.

Cookie brought back several projects that need her attention, and so, I am taking over the wedding dress project. It's exciting to think that brides have already worn some of our dresses; that some other women have also said, "I do," in the very same clothes that we wore when we uttered those same words.

I smile to think of them growing in love with their spouse as I have had the privilege of doing with mine. I pray for them and wonder about them often.

Here are some photos from the original delivery of the dresses. They are pictured in a room at the local Anglican Church. A shop was being rented in town as our missionaries left to come home, and as I stated before, the business is operating.

Since this business is an ongoing project, we are continuing to collect all sorts of items:

wedding dresses
bridesmaid dresses
flower girl dresses
pieces of lace, head dress, notions
monetary donations
PRAYER - lots and lots of prayer

Thanks and blessings!

Revelation

I had a revelation while I watched the children (especially the boys) in my two's class where I work. Picture the scene with me. One child has a toy, a pair of yellow plastic glasses from a Mr. Potato Head set, and the glasses themselves are bent and worn. The child puts the glasses on his face, and dances around in front of the mirror with the way too small toy shoved just so on his face. He is so, so happy. And so, he shows his new found happiness to his friend - who promptly grabs the old, bent yellow frames off the child's face. Because the friend suddenly wants what another has. And the friend wants that used, beat up toy, more than anything. And out of an uncontrollable urge, the friend takes them, no matter who gets hurt. And the first child cries.

And as a teacher, I intervene. We talk about sharing and asking politely and accepting "no" as an answer. Sometimes one person just isn't quite ready to share. Maybe the item in question is new, or it is newly rediscovered, or it is just an all time favorite. But for whatever reason the child can't share - just yet. And the other child has to accept this disappointing fact and find another toy. Soon, both children are happy again. Friends again. Until another toy becomes envied; and the cycle continues.

As a parent, I tend to scold and act as though I just can't imagine what has gotten into my boy. He's not usually like that. Except that we are really all like that. We all envy what others have. We all want something new, or rediscovered, or familiar, as long as it is more than we have right now. It is in our human nature. It seems against our nature to just be genuinely happy for another in their good fortune. So often the envy is there, somewhere, even if we've grown to hide it well. And so, for me, that would be where Jesus comes in. Where the Spirit within me rises up. Where God becomes needed. Because when I am centered around God, with Jesus holding my hand, rather than God centered around me, and Jesus doing my bidding, I find that I can go against nature. I can find joy in others' good fortune. I can think outside of myself. And I can dwell in the Spirit, content despite my circumstances. Aware that actually, my circumstances are quite good. And for that I can only say, "Praise God."

Third grade: First day

I just took my oldest to his first day of third grade and I am weepy this morning. I used to teach third grade. Now I am home, unshowered, getting ready to play Wii Sports with my four year old, and I have one more year before there is a shift. There are probably going to be other shifts in preparation for the big shift, but I really would be fine if they all went away for a bit longer. Third grade is a wonderful year in school. It's a biggie. Kids grow up, become independent in many, many ways, grow deeper in friendships, and move from still little and needy to no longer kissing their mommas in public and fixing their own breakfast toast. They also tackle cursive, multiplication tables, and writing pages of thought. Space gets introduced in science because third graders are getting mature enough to comprehend outside what they can see. Good stuff. But if I could, I'd pause right here for just awhile. I am okay with him kissing me in public, and I am okay with him believing me for better lack of understanding. I am okay with second grade. I am okay with standing still - no shifting - for just a little bit. I am aware it is inevitable, and I am excited about future experiences, but just for today I am ignoring that summer is over.

He's having a great time as I write this, by the way. His two best friends are in his class, and the teacher naively put them all at the same table. Luckily he's still young enough, for a awhile longer, that he tells me everything, and I can't wait to hear all about it!

Tabouli and the 4th of July

Yesterday we went to the mountains. It was beautiful, blue skies, warm breeze, cold, cold water, and lots of rocks to climb. The adults got ourselves situated while the kids played, and once we all settled down, we could fully enjoy our surroundings. Our surroundings. Which included numerous other family groups in similar situations, save one minor detail. The picnic area was beginning to smell delicious - cooked red meat delicious. And that heavenly scent was not coming from our little picnic area. No. Because I grew up in a tabouli family. The kids took about five minutes of all this before asking when dinner would be served, and what exactly had we packed in our picnic basket? Indeed, what had we packed? Well, I graciously informed them that we had luscious strawberries, carrot sticks, and...couscous and fresh parsley salad. Yeah! Oh, yes, we were all thrilled with our yummy organic vegetarian meal amidst a constant breeze filled with the fumes of charcoal and barbecued beef. For my children, it was torture. They asked if someday soon we could go to Chick fil A. My father thought the whole situation hilarious - he was the maker of our gourmet organic vegetarian couscous salad. For me, well, it felt just like the fourth of July back when I was around sixteen. Because I distinctly remember those wonderful summer holidays where we would pack up a cooler, pop a squat in an ampitheater somewhere nearby, listen to a patriotic concert, and eat....tabouli salad. My best friend, Christie, will most certainly have the same memories, since I dragged her along. Tomorrow, we will have salami sandwiches. In the mountains. It's a compromise. But I have finally insisted that once we come home, we will eat hamburgers and roast marshmallows. Maybe we'll even go all out and make smores. I mean, seriously, a girl can only take so much.

VBS Homework: Jesus take two

For the past several blog entries I have been answering questions that will be discussed during my children's VBS in August. In the last entry I discussed feelings I have towards Jesus. I would like to elaborate after coming back to that entry and rereading it.

I grew up in a liturgical church that talked a lot about the Trinity, but I feel it also spent more time educating me on God, the divine being, and the Holy Spirit that dwells in and amongst us. By no fault of others, I did not have as close of an understanding of Christ, the third link to the Trinity. In my opinion as a teenager, openly talking about a relationship with Jesus sounded very Baptist to me. And I was not Baptist. As I have grown older, I have often talked to God, and have gradually melded into talking to Jesus, but I still did not have a clear image of this relationship in my mind. I use imagery to help me comprehend intangible things, and I have been able to imagine God and the Spirit. Now, after having the book, The Shack, shake up stereotypes of the Trinity, I have started having an easier time in understanding the three parts as a whole. In my mind's image, Jesus now rides in the car with me, and he wears Levis bootcut jeans, a Target t shirt, Keens on his feet, and hippie jewelry. He's much more approachable to me in this image. Call me crazy. My point is, I think I came across earlier as not liking Jesus. It has never been that. It has just been not feeling as connected with him as with the other branches of the Trinity. And now that I've cleared that up, I feel better. Don't you?:)

VBS Homework: Five loaves and two fish

Read John 6:1-14

Make a list of seven things about yourself.

1. I have grown more appreciative of pink since having two boys. A little girliness helps me feel balanced in my testosterone world.

2. I love kids; I love working with kids; I love having kids; I love observing kids; I love kids.

3. I have lots of hobbies because I have a short attention span and must mix it up regularly.

4. Flip flops should be our state shoe. I mean, really.

5. I used to want to be African American so that I could have an afro. I am not kidding. I am pale with freckles and straight average brown hair. When I was younger I wanted dark chocolate skin and big hair that held headbands in all day without pins. I even permed my hair twice in one month to try to get this look. It didn't work. And I think my kids have the same dream because they made their Miis brown skinned. With afros.

6. Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday because I don't have to buy anybody presents or feel guilty about not writing thank you notes, I get to see people I love dearly - both families are great - and I get to cook and eat fabulous food. All day.

7. I am leaving this one open, because I have lots of things I could say, but I have an indecisive personality and could not decide what to share:)

VBS Homework: Hearing Jesus

Read Matthew 4:18-22



Following Jesus - We all have different experiences when it first comes to "hearing" about/ from Jesus. What's yours?

I have something to admit. I have avoided talking directly to Jesus for most of my life. It's not that I didn't believe in him. When I get down to it, I have always believed in Him. It's that he didn't make sense to me. Most people have trouble understanding the Trinity because they don't get the Holy Spirit, or they don't like the idea of God as the Father. But I'm different. I have a great dad, so God as Father is comforting. Always has been. And the fact that the Holy Spirit dwells in me, flows through me, bounces around in the world, and infuses our lives makes perfect sense to me. His presence natural. His absence scary.

Yet I have struggled with getting Jesus. I decided early on in my prayer life that God loved me enough that he wouldn't hold it against me when I didn't pray, ".....in Jesus' name, amen." My reason for refusing to pray in this manner was also my confusion as to how he even worked. If he is God and man, why can I not just go ahead and talk to God, like talking to the CEO instead of the vice CEO? In my maturing of faith over the years, I have settled into including Jesus in the mix, but when I read The Shack, I finally had an analogy that worked for me. A friend in Jesus - cheesy, corny, just plain embarrassing - until I had permission to make him an old guy friend I could shoot the breeze with and talk to whenever I wanted. Now he's not so cheesy anymore; he's also not wearing long robes either, which helps.

I guess the reason I finally, openly, admit this difficulty with understanding Jesus all the while considering myself Christian is because I am guessing I am not alone. But doubting for me is also a form of curiosity which spurs me into a deeper, seeking faith with God. I don't want pity because I am a Christian that is at times uncomfortable with pieces of my faith. In the end, I am Christian, and I have always been Christian. I have had times where I have doubted, where I have felt confused, where I have wondered if I'd ever feel comfortable with the idea of three in one, where I believed and yet felt frustrated in choosing to believe in something I didn't understand. I have had times where I have told myself it's better to agree with Jesus just to be safe eternally, only to lecture myself that only admitting his existence on the surface as a form of self preservation was still doubt - not true belief. I have then soulfully gone back to the point of, okay, this isn't it; this struggle, this life, is not over at death. I cannot accept a fate so dire. And so, out of desperate need I choose to believe. Maybe this too is another form of self preservation, but it comes not from caring about covering my rear, but surviving while I drag my rear around in it's current condition.

When I was little, it was easy to be Christian; I sang songs, went to church, and played the heck out of some hand bells. As I became a teenager, I took pride in being Episcopalian, linking myself with the Catholics, and continuing along fairly easily. In college, I partied, and in late night deep philosophical discussions debated the existence of a divine being. In adulthood, I come back to where I started, minus the hand bells; only this time it's harder, the responsibility for my faith on my shoulders instead of my parents. And yet, it is where I do belong through all my searching, back to the place where I was raised, ultimately believing in Jesus, and a curious mind to continue learning more.