Fall and falling

The colors are grand this year. I have no idea if they were grand last year since we were not here to observe last years Fall season. This year,though...it is wonderfully pretty.
I am in a funk of some sort and I can't seem to shake it no matter how spectacular the colors are. Uncle Frank passed away at the start of the week. Aunt Wilma his wife is in a nursing home. These were my houseparents growing up in ,then it was called, Irian Jaya. Uncle Frank also walked into Mapnduma with my Dad 45 years ago to start 'the work' there. These men and women risked a lot to be where they were. I wonder would I have done the same? There was a kind of cavalier attitude in the adventure of it all. Risking family relationships, marriages and often times health to go farther and do more for the Kingdom. All good then, maybe now...who knows. Scott and I think often about going back to Papua. There is in me that quiet voice calling so intently...make a difference, do something bigger then running errands and fixing lunches, make your mark by giving yourself away. Serving harder, serving better, serving at all...I don't know anymore.
It is Fall here in the beautiful Northwest, we have had a spectacular one so far. Me, I am falling deeper into a funk. No worries though, it is only a season.

A Whole Week

It has been a whole week since I last posted. I am usually not that bad...why this week? It was one of those weeks that slipped away before I knew it was gone. I have been working on my MA and a Powerpoint about Papua, and getting my classes ready and making sure the kids are where they need to be...and apologizing to Scott.

By themselves each moment does not evoke beauty or grace, but strung together...dew drops in a necklace of silken thread.

I have been wretched with Scott but yet his forgiveness erases the guilt. The PowerPoint on Papua puts in perspective again the year of wonder and how grateful we are for that time. Getting my MA done, I really never thought it was possible to sit down and write something that could be considered MA material, and it is coming together. Running the kids back and forth allows me glimpses into their journey, even the 5 minutes from school to home gives me enough information to continue the conversation at home. Getting my classes together, I am always surprised students like me and allow me to teach them. Every semester, every year I am given the privilege and I am always struck with those holy moments.

It has been a whole week...I am looking forward to the next dewdrops on silken threads.

Being Busy

This is the family not too many weeks ago. They were all advertising for the worst team in college football, our underdogs of underdogs...the Huskies. It was a moment in time...it seems we have wandered so far from where were were not too many months ago.

We are busy... not bad busy, not too busy, but fill your calendar for several months ahead of time busy.

I am not...busy that it is. I am the eye of the hurricane as these three run here and there. Nick with football, Mijo with drama, and Scott with drill, work and classes.

I keep thinking about when were were in Papua. Not so busy and if we were, we were busy with the same things. Here in Lynden the business does not intersect and often times it collides. I know it is a season and I am not worried about it, but it does seem that we are much more disconnected as a family. I don't think it is a badge to brag about...I am not one of those who thinks being busy is next to being godly or even American. I think being busy is a choice...and it creeps quickly into the 24 hour period of time we call days. I would like to be busier, I think it would make me feel more important. But if I was busier, then these 3 couldn't be.

As I peruse Facebook entries I realize we are all busy. I think it is good that we are involved and creative. What do we do when we are not busy...do we connect more, laugh easier and wonder? Because I am not so busy..I would like to connect more, laugh and wonder but everyone else is busy.

Now for something completly different!

8 times...I ferried my children back and forth 8 times yesterday. Let me tell you...7:35..Mijo to ITF ( worship team thingy)...8:05 Nick to school...11, me to school...3:15 Mijo home, 4:00 me to Nicks football game ( 32-14 winning season)...5:20 Mijo home to school for play practice, stay and wait for Nick to be done...6:45 Mijo from one play to the other one she is in...9, Mijo home again home again jiggety jig. I don't mind them being busy...I am very glad we live in the town where all these things are happening. Today...not so much driving...just 5x.

Wrap up!

When I write something I usually have learned something, thought about something and usually I can wrap it up nicely in a bow....This time...I don't know how to wrap it up...The question that woke me up the other night was simply...Where is God when you get old? I am sure many of you have wandered the hallways of an old folks home and thought...May I never end up here...Please may I die in my sleep before I get to this condition.
As much as someone can tell me that God wanders those hallways in those homes...He seems as absent as most of their wills to live. It seems a big, huge elaborate waiting room...
As I look towards the inevitable aging process...I wonder will God whisper His presence in my failing ears? Will His Peace invade the anxiety of forgotten memories? Will His joy enfold my loneliness? Maybe, because we don't hear about God when our bodies and minds are failing we think He is absent...Oh to have the voices from those saints speak into our growing fears and reassure us that Yes, God is not only with us when we get old but He is even sweeter.

Old men and dogs

After my diatribe about Mocha I settled down and looked at this picture again. This is what I want, not the being an old man, but the companionship of a dog on a leisurely walk on an Autumn day. The settled understanding between man and beast...rather then the intensity of a puppy with too much energy and not enough room to run.

Scott can't bring himself to let the dog go... there is an old man hiding under his youngish..well, I guess middle aged soul. He is that man walking his dog, that is his vision of Mocha even in the middle of all her piddle. He still hopes for her so he perseveres even in all the frustration.

Me...I am working so hard to live in the present that the present situation overshadows the futures possibilities. She still is here...grabbing the pizza off the counter, eating my corn bread off the counter, barking in my ear...and loving me every moment she sees me. Enthusiasm which knows no bounds as I enter the room. So I look at this picture, I am envisioning the future...strolling down the road with said dog strolling along in the sunshine.

Update on Mocha

What to do...what to do. This dog is causing much concern in our household. She will not listen, she still pees inside...we have no idea why. When we try and discipline her concerning her bladder control, she looses control again. She will not stop jumping up and at times for no reason we can discern becomes uncontrollable afraid of Nick. I have come to the conclusion that she needs to be in a home where she can live outside, in a barn with other dogs. What is most interesting is that Scott is thinking the same. We needed a dog when we came back, but maybe when all is said and done what we wanted was Winzig and Mocha is no Winzig.
There are certain things that are the same as they are both the same breed...but replacing a memory with a reality, doesn't seem to work. At the same time though, we are willing to work with her but she does not seem to want to work with us. Maybe we had too many expectations for her as well. We have not given up...But, we certainly are not as enthusiastic :). If any of you dog whisperers out there have some ideas for us, let us know. AND
If you know of anyone who would want a beautiful, livered German Short Hair, with lots of spirit and enthusiasm and who will be able to hunt with some good training...we have a dog for you.