Blessed is the man...

James 1:11-13

New American Standard Bible (NASB)

¹¹ For the sun rises with a scorching wind and withers the grass; and its flower falls off and the beauty of its appearance is destroyed; so too the rich man in the midst of his pursuits will fade away.

 ¹² Blessed is a man who perseveres under trial; for once he has been approved, he will receive the crown of life whichthe Lord has promised to those who love Him. ¹³ Let no one say when he is tempted, “I am being tempted by God”; for God cannot be tempted by evil, and He Himself does not tempt anyone.

As I was working today I realized again that I should be continually thanking the Lord. Yes, it was while I was working hard that I realized this because I COULD work hard. In 2010 I had suffered some sudden symptoms suggesting I might have suffered a heart attack. After MANY MANY doctor visits, blood tests, scans and the like it was determined that was not the case. For those who have been reading this blog for a while you might remember this post. It took several months and then my original doctor had mentioned the words "gluten intolerant." Without going into details he also described the testing methods and at that time I was just not interested. But, he told me I could also try eating gluten free. After four months of battling the idea of changing life so drastically I embarked on this new diet, with my husband's blessings. 

It's now been a year or more, and Senior Son has had to walk the same path I have. But, we're making progress. Tonight I'm cooking two dinners... one for the gluten eaters and one for Josh and I. Yes, it's a bit more work, but in the end we are healthier, happier and able to be more awake, more active, less depressed. I've continued to study about gluten intolerance and learned that there are many diseases associated with this... chronic fatigue, depression, and fibromyalgia, to name a few. But, with God's great mercies Josh and I are moving beyond these side effects and learning a new way to live. And, on top of that, we are learning to be thankful for each bite we can eat safely and happily. 

So, while to some this may seem a trial, and in the beginning it was quite difficult to balance the gluten intolerance (and then my added wheat allergy... not even touching wheat products) with caring for my family and myself, God has given me new joy in accomplishing even a seemingly easy task like dinner... which isn't as easy as it once was. I'm very blessed to take from the hand of the Lord what He offers and to grow because of that, not despite that. That's the new focus. 

 For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen.---2 Corinthians 4:17-18

May God grant you His many mercies because of the trials you face, big or small, and may you all grant Him all glory. 

Shalom, 

Kim

Blessings Unfold

It has been an eventful summer since last I wrote. For that matter it's been an eventful beginning to the fall season and a new school year. Over the summer we dealt with unexpected hitches in the boys' education, health concerns for Young Man, along with his missions/class time in Alaska rather than job time in VA, four births which stretched me to the utmost, a change in Dear's employment thanks to the "BRAC" act (Base Reduction And Closure) which shipped his job to CA; the loss of one of his dear friends due to suicide, and then just to make life interesting we learned that I have a "life altering" allergy to poison ivy, and wheat.

But, we persevered. One of the things that I hoped to focus on this summer was service to others. I realized that in our sports centered year last year we had missed many opportunities to serve. So, rather than a summer job, summer schooling, or the like the girls and I would find ways to serve others this past summer. Mostly what we did was to make ourselves available to young mothers who needed help with childcare, at no cost. The girls served a young mother of two children who was on her own while her husband served overseas, they helped watch two young children of another mother who had recently given birth, and were available and used by a number of others. This past fall they have helped to make food for a dear friend as her husband fights cancer. They also come willingly to visit, even thought it's hard, and we usually cry on the way home, we are glad to be of some use.

But, something hit home the other day. Remember that wheat allergy I mentioned? Well, after my poison ivy incident occurred, we learned that not only was I gluten intolerant, but I actually had contact dermatitis when exposed to wheat. So, when I found myself chair/bed bound due to exposure to both wheat and poison ivy my girls took over... cooking, cleaning, changing my ice packs, bringing me food. At the time I was very grateful. Then a friend commented that I was seeing the fruits of the lessons learned over the summer. How funny. When I thought of serving others it never really occurred to me that they would be serving me here at home due to that lesson. Another night found MMH painting the bathroom vanity..."because it needed it, and I wanted to do it," she said; and when I awoke from an antihistamine induced nap I found that WeeOne had cleaned the entire kitchen, even down to the hand washing of pots and pans AND cleaning the trap in the sink. Today it hit home again as WeeOne happily fixed the dryer vent where my larger fingers wouldn't fit. She was 100% pleased with herself for being such a help.

I pray that as they grow older the blessings of serving others continues to unfold in their lives and that they never lose this joy.

²⁵ But one who looks intently at the perfect law, the law of liberty, and abides by it, not having become a forgetful hearer but an effectual doer, this man will be blessed in what he does.

 ²⁶ If anyone thinks himself to be religious, and yet does not bridle his tongue but deceives his own heart, this man’s religion is worthless. ²⁷ Pure and undefiled religion in the sight of our God and Father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained by the world.

Jame 1: 24-27

Shalom, 

Kim

1% + 98%

What does that equal? Well, it equals a successful track season for WeeOne.

I am not now, nor have I ever been, an athlete. I have enjoyed simple sports: biking, swimming, playing "Kick the Can" with neighborhood kids, but I was never part of organized athletics. Well, there was one season where I was a "student manager" for the girls Varsity volleyball team, but...

Somehow, when the boys left home for college I figured my days of being a "sports mom" were done. After all, I had girls. I was a girl. I didn't do sports. My girls wouldn't do sports. Guess again. MMH decided her 8th grade year that she wanted to play volleyball. Mind you, she had never played before, nor did she even know the rules to the game, she just knew she wanted to play. Then around comes her freshman year and volleyball was at the forefront again. At least until that season was over and basketball began. Two sports? Not even the boys did that.

Then around Christmas we started hearing the word "TRACK"... but it wasn't coming from MMH, rather it came from WeeOne. She of the never-ending energy had decided that Track and Field would be HER sport. After all, she knew how to run. Right? HA! And then, horror of horrors, big sister decided she ALSO wanted to participate. At which point I thought I might lose my mind. Three sports in one year? I was tired, tired, tired of the driving, but Dear gave the go-ahead, so we went ahead.

Week 2 hit in the Varsity track team and MMH had to drop out... Osgood Slaughters (let's simply say debilitating knee pain) was the causal agent. Meanwhile WeeOne had begun her season and she was NOT happy. Actually the word "QUIT" was heard being murmured and mumbled from her region of the back seat after practice each day. We talked about learning how to "stay the course" how to "run the race that is set before you" and many other such things. In the end, we simply said, MMH HAD to quit, but you may NOT quit. Just tough it out.

Goals were set, and eventually met, and finally one day she exited practice with a smile on her face. Within one week she was saying that she might think about running next year, and a week later she told us she was 91% sure she would run. Meanwhile the rains kept coming down, meets kept getting cancelled and we all began to wonder if this would be a season with no competition.

Always a good idea to let your coach know if you're leaving the field. Ahem!

Note WeeOne in the upper left corner.

FINALLY made it to the start line. ALWAYS wait till they say if your heat is or is not running before you walk off.

Finally her first meet came around and she was able to compete. She didn't win, but she did win one of her heats, and she did well. And, when it all ended this past week she said, with a big smile on her face, "I'm 1% + 98% sure I'll be running next year." Now THAT made for a successful season!

This is the face that sums it up. She decided she wanted to run, and run fast. She won this heat.

So, all in all a good year. Tonight at the dinner her coaches recognized her as the team member that never complained, and also the team member who really improved her time. I'm proud, she did indeed run the race set before her.

Therefore, since we have so great a cloud of witnesses surrounding us, let us also lay aside every encumbrance and the sin which so easily entangles us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us... Hebrews 12:1

I pray she may run all her races in such a manner. 

Shalom,
Kim

Lessons Learned in Childbirth ~Husband Led Childbirth~

(as found on ~Doulas~  one of my other blogs)

As you may have noted if you saw the list of blogs I work on, I have some varied interestes. For many many years, about 25, I've been involved the birthing community, first through La Leche League as a group leader and a breastfeeding support person, then through ASPO/Lamaze as a childbirth educator and an "unofficical birth coach" and  now, most recently through Childbirth International as a certified labor doula. All in all, you could say that I'm hooked. I love to be involved with families as they are preparing to give birth, giving birth, or need some support post-partum.


A few weeks ago we hosted the first ever "Indiana Christian Childbirth Expo" and while it was not a huge affair, as numbers go, it allowed us to share some important thoughts with the people who did attend. Below is a copy of the talk I was supposed to give... long story... which I did end up sharing with about 7 women there as a personal testimony. All this to say.. it might be worth a read... it continues to encourage me very much in what I do. But, even more, it is a great reminder that I NEED my husband... he is my spiritual head in this family, the family leader and "the final word" when need be. Such a blessing!

HUSBAND LED CHILDBIRTH

Hi, my name’s Kim and I’m a labor doula. The road I took to get to this point started even before my own first child was born. As I’m a storyteller you’ll probably hear more story than lecture, but the idea of husband led childbirth has been a constant theme as I walked this path.

Twenty five years ago I attended my very first birth ever. My husband and I had a young unmarried woman living with us while she was experiencing a crisis pregnancy. Hers was rather a typical story, college romance, a baby conceived and the birth father becoming absent. As she needed someone to help her I soon became her birthing partner. Imagine a young married woman, having never had children, all my friends were childless or single and here I was trying to tell this young woman what to do. However, by the time she gave birth I knew my life would never be the same.

But, it was not merely the realization that God might have been placing a call upon my life to serve the birthing community it was the beginning of a journey that led me to understand that the birth room, whether it be in a hospital, birthing center, a home, or even the back of a car is not removed from God’s created order of things.

22Wives, be subject to your own husbands, as to the Lord.

23For the husband is the head of the wife, as Christ also is the head of the church, He Himself being the Savior of the body.

24But as the church is subject to Christ, so also the wives ought to be to their husbands in everything.

25Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ also loved the church and gave Himself up for her,

26so that He might sanctify her, having cleansed her by the washing of water with the word,

27that He might present to Himself the church in all her glory, having no spot or wrinkle or any such thing; but that she would be holy and blameless.

28So husbands ought also to love their own wives as their own bodies. He who loves his own wife loves himself;

29for no one ever hated his own flesh, but nourishes and cherishes it, just as Christ also does the church,

30because we are members of His body.

Yes, the woman’s body is doing the work. Yes, the woman is experiencing the pain. Yes, the woman is rather central to this issue. Nevertheless God still expects the husband to be the head of the house. Not merely a coach barking orders, but rather a godly man who is willing to lay down his life for his bride. He will not shirk the hard things, but that doesn’t mean he has to do everything.

I’d like to share some stories and help you see what I learned over 25 years.

That very first birth I attended to I’ve already mentioned. There was a mother, her baby and me. The father was notably absent. In fact, within the next two years he would have removed himself altogether from his child’s life, and from the life of the woman he had sworn to love. I learned that although women are very good at giving birth, and I can be an adequate to excellent birth partner, I can never replace the husband/father in the birthing room.

Several years later we gave birth to our first two children. Both preemies. Both a bit scary due to circumstances. But I recall that although I had no idea what I was doing the first time… we gave birth on the second day of childbirth classes… I was totally dependent on my husband’s voice and his touch. When all else was new, scary and out of my control I could look to him to keep me focused, to love me and to help me. The second time around was a wild ride as we gave birth 13 minutes after arriving at the hospital. We went to sign in, it’s one in the morning, my water has broken, my contractions are about 90 seconds apart and I’m seriously in labor. I finally told the person in the office that I HAD to get off my feet or I was going to have the baby. I’m not sure if she believed me or just wanted my panting body out of her office, but she called for a nurse and sent me upstairs. I was no sooner in my room than I wanted to push, BUT I held on till Dear made it to the birthing room. I needed him there. I knew what I wanted in the birth, but what I needed was my husband. I needed his strength, his sense of order, and his very presence. Not only that but as soon as our son was born and the room became still and my husband spoke the entire roomful of medical staff watched as our son turned directly towards him, recognizing the voice he had heard for months already. That moment once again established that idea of husband-led birthing. After that birth I trained to become a childbirth educator, and from there began accompanying clients into the birthing room.

Of course over the years not all my clients were Christians, and to be honest, not all my clients were married, but for married Christians I truly believe that the husband still needs to be the head… even in the birthing room.

One of the things I have learned through scripture, the preaching of the word, and good teaching is that the Bible never contradicts itself. So, as we heard earlier, the husband is the head of the wife, and that does not change merely because she’s demanding, hurting, or busy. It’s at those very moments where God’s love manifests itself so strongly.

Another year, another birth. This was my second time working with this couple. Their plans, as plans are wont to do went a bit astray. Childcare, in the form of a family member, just wasn’t happening. Despite frantic phone calls no one showed up to watch baby number one. Well, it seemed obvious to me that I would just step into the childcare roll and allow mom and dad to work together in the birth of their next child. But, I was suddenly confronted with a brand new issue. My client asked her husband to watch the child, and for me to be her sole birthing partner. While I understood that she wanted someone with experience, my presence upstairs while her husband was downstairs seemed to mock the very marriage God had created. And yet, was it? Who made the decision for me to remain in the birthing room?

Again, another few years, another birth. An odd call from a mom close to her due date and every 2-10 minutes the phone went dead as she dropped it and breathed heavily. Finally her husband came on the line and I asked what was happening when the phone went dead each time… “Well,” he says, “she sort of doubles over, holds her stomach and starts breathing.” I tried to keep a calm voice as I asked how long this had been going on, meanwhile trying to figure out the timing of running back to our picnic site, establishing a ride home for my family and zooming to the hospital. I learned this had been going on for about 6 hours and her husband finally convinced her to call me. Although no pattern had been established, she was close to delivery. She would not believe she was in labor because the contractions were not setting up a pattern. But, she would listen to her husband who suggested she call me and that’s when she learned she had to get to the hospital, fast. By the way… she arrived fully dilated to 10 cm. and had a baby within 2 hours.

As you can see time after time women doubted, needed help, needed guidance and their husbands stepped in. Some by direction, some by stepping back and having someone else do what they felt needed to be done.

When I spoke to several couples about the expo and this talk, one of the husbands wanted to know how I defined “husband-led.” He was afraid, or perhaps concerned, that what I expected was for the husband to always be present at the birth, for him to have done a huge amount of reading, and for him to make all decisions on his own.

Let’s step back and see what I really mean. One of my favorite quotes regarding childbirth is taken from a sermon preached my Martin Luther in 1522. The sermon is entitled “The Estate of Marriage” and in section three he has the following to say:

A wife too should regard her duties in the same light, as she suckles the child, rocks and bathes it, and cares for it in other ways; and as she busies herself with other duties and renders help and obedience to her husband. These are truly golden and noble works. This is also how to comfort and encourage a woman in the pangs of childbirth, not by repeating St Margaret legends and other silly old wives' tales but by speaking thus, "Dear [so and so], remember that you are a woman, and that this work of God in you is pleasing to him. Trust joyfully in his will, and let him have his way with you. Work with all your might to bring forth the child. …If you were not a woman you should now wish to be one for the sake of this very work alone, that you might thus gloriously suffer and even die in the performance of God's work and will.

This then is the first work, and main work of husband led childbirth. Husbands are to lovingly remind their wives that their very bodies were created for this purpose. They are honoring God as they strive to deliver their child. There need be no fancy rhetoric, barked commands, or fearful suggestions. The wives are to take strength from their husband’s words.

I know, I’ve already heard it, some woman may say, “But my husband is not that interested.” Or perhaps, “He wants to be there, but doesn’t want to upset the doctor.” Or again, “I’m not sure I trust him.” Wives, your husband is not called to suddenly have both a medical and counseling degree in order to be the perfect caregiver and advocate. What he is called to do is to love you and care for you. This can look different in different births. It may be the husband knows his wife needs a certain person in the room with her, or that she needs to call for help, or simply that she must do what he says at that moment until something else comes for her to do.

About three years ago I was asked to be a doula for a young couple having their first child. The husband is a godly man, and has a strong personality. The wife is also strong with a strong sense of order and how things must be done. The pregnancy and then the birth was a time of testing for her to learn to step back and listen to her husband rather than her own desires. It became easier for her over time and it was beautiful to watch. But, I still hear that question from the other night. WHAT is the husband to do? Well, this husband basically told me what he would do and what he wanted me to do. I could deal with the birthing matters, and he would love his wife. He did not abdicate, he made an informed decision. I was the one who had studied this and experienced this. But, as regards to loving his wife and encouraging or even exhorting her, that was his place.

More recently still I began to actively teach the idea of husband led childbirth. The birth I attended was very sweet and touching, again a young couple, first child. I had told them during classes that there may come a point when the wife lies to the husband. I know this shocked them, it shocks most couples. But, I added, she is not meaning to lie, it’s just that there’s a point at which her body wants, NEEDS, HAS TO start pushing. The problem is that sometimes it’s not quite ready, or you’re without someone to actually catch the baby. Imagine her surprise when this happened to her. I was behind her, watching, her husband was holding her hands, and I happened to notice that she had stopped her breathing pattern, tucked her head down and was holding her breath. I bent forward and whispered in her ear, “Look at your husband and submit to him. “ I figured this was the moment when I’d either get a tongue lashing or I’d see the power of God at work. She looked up, her husband looked her in the eyes and said, “Jess, put your head up, blow and stop pushing.”

Funny thing is at the time I didn’t realize what had happened. But as Jess and I spoke later she said that was a memory that was stamped on heart for ever. She had to stop doing what she wanted, trust her husband and follow him. She told me, “It was the biggest relief I had felt in a long time to know I could depend on you to guide us, Paul to lead me and know that if I followed I was not stepping outside of God’s will and could trust that I was doing the right thing even though it was still very hard physically!”

That’s the moment when I knew I wanted to share this with all of you. As I said earlier I’ve attended births for 25 years now. I’ve been to births where the husband was a college frat guy watching a game with his buddies as his wife labored, I’ve been with a single mom who had no one else and I’ve been with husbands and wives where the husband continued to be the head of the household. It won’t always make for a “perfect birth”, as a matter of fact, things may appear to go terribly wrong, but in the end you will know that your marriage will grow stronger, you’ll love your husband more than ever, and he will love you even more for walking this path… the woman’s path of birthing… and for listening to him, trusting him and honoring him with your respect.

God cares for us in many ways. During birth he gives us doulas, midwives, nurses, doctors, family and friends, but the biggest support he offers to you is a husband who is not afraid to lead… in whatever way that works out in your birth story. May God bless you all as you walk this path.

Shalom, Kim

(A Quick Reminder... Don't forget my giveaway... it's still going. Just click on the link in the sidebar and you'll be redirected to that post! Come on... join in the fun!)

"And in your brotherly kindness, love"

As any of you women know your house is "YOUR" domain. NOT!

Your house is a home to your family, a refuge for your husband where he may look forward to the end of the day, refresh himself from the world's drudge and be well loved. It is a place where your children may learn not the world's ways, but the ways of Christ in regards to loving one another.

In regards to this last statement I recall one young man saying to me about his family and brothers, "I'm his brother and I 'get' to beat him up all I want. But just let anyone outside of this family try that on my brother and I'll back him up 100%!"

On the one hand that is incredibly funny. And, to be honest, that is just how that brother was. He was quick to pick on his brother (any of them), but he would not let anyone outside of the family harm a hair on his brother's head. But, how much better if we also learn to love one another? I realize that as a "not male" person... i.e. a woman I don't always understand the importance of all things male... (beating up your brothers?) but I'm trying to learn so as to support my (almost grown) sons and my husband in a way which attests to their manhood and does not try to feminize them. That would be dreadful.

In the meantime I also have daughters and I need to help them to learn to work together as well. If any of you have daughters you know that although things may rarely get physical there are often verbal battles being fought... and not always openly. I need to learn to share "my" domain graciously and to set an example. I also need to learn to have an eagle eye and to recall that daughters and sons require some different parenting tools.

This year both girls are taking Latin. At first they begged to take it. Then they begged not to take it. But I am determined they will finish the year. Part of the plan was to have them work TOGETHER... they work on flash cards, conjugations, declensions (and what ARE those anyway?!) and all the other icky fun stuff which the study of Latin entails. (Did I mention I have NO CLUE HOW LATIN WORKS? NONE? Whenever I have tried to help, no matter how hard I try it comes out as Spanish about 90% of the time!) So, in order to receive help and practice they must learn how to work together.

Well, yesterday as we continued our discussion as to what MMH would take for a language in high school (EEK! THAT'S NEXT YEAR!) WeeOne said... "OH, then I don't have to take Latin anymore because you (me, the "mothernator") can't help me and she won't be taking it. Much to my surprise, and pleasure, MMH said, "Of course I'll still help you. Just because I'm not taking that class doesn't mean I won't be willing to help you."

Ahhh... such a sweet sound. One child willing to help another. Without being asked. Perhaps the plan is working. Not to mention that WeeOne's Latin won't begin to sound more Spanish than not. And, did I mention Senior Son coming over a few days ago and asking to help with the chores? Yes he did. He vacuumed all the dead lady bugs from our light fixtures in the basement. Seriously... for those who live in this area you know what a big job that can be. And yes, I should have done it in November, but they were still moving! Not to mention the fact that I would have missed this moment with my son. (And yes, this was a manly chore... it takes a TALL person to reach the light fixture, a brave person to open that thing up where bugs were/are living, and a strong and coordinated person to hold the vacuum in the air in one hand while maneuvering the hose with the other!)

I am truly enjoying watching my boys become men. I am also enjoying watching the girls practice the skills that I pray they need some day if the Lord calls them to be wives and mothers. I do feel very blessed and fortunate to see them learning to work (and learn) together.

Shalom, Kim

5Now for this very reason also, applying all diligence, in your faith supply moral excellence, and in your moral excellence, knowledge,
6and in your knowledge, self-control, and in your self-control, perseverance, and in your perseverance, godliness,
7and in your godliness, brotherly kindness, and in your brotherly kindness, love.
8For if these qualities are yours and are increasing, they render you neither useless nor unfruitful in the true knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ.
9For he who lacks these qualities is blind or short-sighted, having forgotten his purification from his former sins.
10Therefore, brethren, be all the more diligent to make certain about His calling and choosing you; for as long as you practice these things, you will never stumble;
11for in this way the entrance into the eternal kingdom of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ will be abundantly supplied to you.

2 Peter 1: 5-11

Never Say Never ~Teachable Tuesday~

In a former blog life I used my own "memes" to encourage myself to write. While bouncing around looking for Tuesday memes this morning I finally decided to return to my own meme idea. Wonder if anyone else wants to join in... should we make this a big thing? I can add a linky thing at the end if need be... just let me know.

Often when I wrote about "teachable" moments I highlighted our homeschooling lifestyle using the kids to show the lessons of being teachable. However, I think it's that very lifestyle that has helped me to become more teachable.

Once upon a time there lived a young girl. She dreamed of the day she would teach in her very own classroom. She would move back to her hometown and teach in the very school which she had attended. Over the years things changed. Mind you, she still wanted to teach, but maybe not back home, after all there was a young man to consider now. Soon they finished school, married and found a home. Alas, her own classroom was not to be, but she did "get to" substitute in classrooms throughout the county. (That's another whole blog post!) Eventually by the next year she did have her very own classroom. And her very own pregnancy. And her very own pre-term labor. And her very own bed rest.

During this time her principal tried to encourage her to come back after baby was born. Okay, maybe not full time, but why not as a kindergarten teacher. This young woman was flattered that her skills were desired, but she wasn't sure.

Then came "THE DAY"... "B DAY"... or the birth of their son. Once that warm little bundle landed in her arms she knew there was no turning back. She wanted to be a stay-at-home mom. She took "early retirement." She also informed a family friend and church elder that "she had told God she would never teach again." To which he replied with great deals of laughter. After he picked himself up from the floor he suggested that it might not be wise to tell God "never" because He, in His infinite wisdom, might have plans of which she knew nothing.

Ah yes... and thus began the next 22 years of life where I taught every single year. I taught Sunday School, I taught breastfeeding moms, I taught by homeschooling our fourn children, I taught childbirth classes, and I taught co-ops. I even taught for a short period in a kindergarten... but in a small Christian school where my youngest at that time could come in with me.

I learned. God is always wanting us to learn. He makes our lives to be full of "teachable moments," some of which are brief and others last for decades. I have learned that to be teachable is to allow God to use me and for that I am grateful.

Blessings, Kim

Road Trip

Today we took Young Man to the airport so he might return to school and studies. His classes resume tomorrow. Although we are sad to say good bye it's so exciting to see a young person who is HAPPY to return to studies, hard work and achieving life goals as set by the Lord. We'll miss him, but pray he is doing well. Hopefully he's all the way back now, although I am missing the calls he was SUPPOSED to make to inform me of the fact. Oh well... he's almost 20 and I can't hold his hand forever.

On the way home I thought we'd try a new antique store. Apparently that was NOT a good idea. Or, it was not a good idea with MY Garmin. Ahem! Bad directions, missing roads, dead ends, construction and 35 minutes later we ended where we began... never having arrived at the antique store which was supposedly a "mere" 5 miles away. Umm...yeah. So, back on the road south and I decide to give it a third try... and BINGO... it says one of my favorite stores is a mere 9 miles away. YEAH! And SCORE!

Found a bunch of good stuff... sorry, no photos yet. MMH found some sweet sheet music, but poor Wee One found nothing which she could afford. (However, she is still piecing the quilt from the pieces she found last visit.) The BIGGEST (literally and figuratively) item we found was a Victorian photo album covered in velvet. Not totally full of photos, but enough. Each page is like the inside of a cabinet photo or photo folio. So, my folio cards will become wall hangings (i.e. I'm taking this baby apart!) The cover has some incredible metal work which will also be used and even the hinges and lock will be used. SCORE! I think the velvet may end up on a bottle... we'll see. Additionally ... well, I'll show you all later.

Meanwhile I've been pondering my interest in things vintage. Dear once said he enjoyed watching me as I shop in an antique mall. Time basically stops for me, a half hour is in reality several hours and I've been in another era. Part of my love of vintage is the color... it's soft and not jarring. It's harmonious and there's no "apology" for using color...

The soft patina of wear and tear on each item lends it beauty and dignity... well, as much dignity as a "thing" may have. There may be a scratch from a knife slip... perhaps the first time a new husband carved the roast. There may be a ding from where a newly toddling baby caught something and dropped it. Images may be fading from photos of long ago celebrations, but the smiles and joy are still obvious. All a reminder that life is not just here and now, but has been going on a for a while. We are not alone in our joys and sorrows. Others have come before us, and unless the world ends tomorrow others will come along after us. All that passes through my head. Then I hear, "It's time to go." And I have to jump back to today.

Today's focus seems to be all polish, no showing of age, all new new new... no value to things of age. No value to aging people. I'm vintage. Actually, I'm approaching antique... if that means 50 or more years of age... and I too am showing signs of wear and tear. The hair has a bit of tinsel when I miss my salon appointment, the eyes droop a bit... age, sorrow, weight; my once slim curves are now CURVES in all caps with maybe some BULGE thrown in... age, strain, stress, fatigue. Does God value me less because of my age and the signs of age that I bear?

Amazing what one ponders upon while on a road trip. Speaking of which, "How's your patina?"
Blessings, Kim

Post Script...
Hey All, Just to let you know... I'm not sad. I'm feeling comfortable with who I am. Much like the vintage items I enjoy I realize I have many stories to tell. My life is full and I look forward to sharing stories with those who want to listen. My kids laugh at how I love words... I love books, word games, new words, stories to share that have something to ignite your humor, curiosity or a longing for Jesus. It's all about words... "In the beginning was The Word, and The Word was with God and The Word was God." ... words.... His story, our stories, history... that's what I'm trying to say....

Will We Ever Meet? ~In Other Words.... A Tuesday Meme

“When the trials of life unravel the fabric of our plans.

When we face the deep confusion of painful circumstance.

When our feeble strength is broken,and we stand with empty hands.

That’s when the Father whispers ‘Trust the pattern I have planned.’ “
Lyrics from song, The Weaver

On August 4, 2000 we received word that our long awaited travel plans to China to adopt "Suzanna Jane" were now about to be cancelled. Forever. We would never meet her.

My heart was already bloodied and bruised from another trial God had given to us, and I thought this might just be the end. We had been told, "You'll get travel plans next month." And then, "Well, next month." And then we began to wonder. Would we ever go? Would we ever meet this sweet little girl? See her crooked little smile? (She had a cleft lip.) Would she ever be held in loving arms? Would she hear the name of Jesus whispered into her ears?

That Monday morning we received the call. Simply, "She is no longer adoptable. You can try to fight China. Or you can choose not to. You probably won't win. But you can try." Dear was up dealing with our other crisis and I could not believe I had to be alone to take this call. Minutes before his meeting he called me and asked, "Have you heard from the agency?" I hesitated. Surely now was not the time to tell him. He had a hard task in front of him and I didn't want to make it harder. He heard the hesitation and simply said, "Tell me."

We cried. We prayed. He hung up. He had a meeting. We asked our agency for 24 hours to pray and decide. We called our pastor. We called friends. We all prayed. 22 hours later our agency called again and said, "China has removed her name from the list." That was it. It appeared to be the end of our years of dreams, months of waiting, a lifetime of hope. And what would happen next? What would happen to Suzanna Jane?

Looking back we see now that God used her life for HIS glory. Each of our prayers was answered, just in unexpected ways. Through our long wait we told others of her story her and her short seemingly insiginficant (at least to the world at large) life caused a fundraiser to happen online. Five children received life-altering surgeries that allowed them to be adopted. We had the pictures and the stories to prove it. But what about her? What about us?

It seemed nobody understood. "It was not as if we had ever held her", one person said. "We could get another baby," someone else offered. In the end we were given a good name for what we suffered: a silent miscarriage. For months we had begun to "know" this child in our heart, prepare for her in our home, and even had a surgery date to repair her cleft lip. So, started my prayers. Or rather, they continued, just on a new path.

"Lord, if I can't hold her please let someone hold her. If I can't make her smile, please let someone give her joy and a reason to be happy. If I can't share your love with her, let her hear the name of Jesus from someone."

And yet, there she was. Half-way around the world. In an orphanage. Alone. With "brain problems." (We later learned her seizures were the first indicators of cerebral palsy.)

And then something strange, some might say mystical, but I say God-ordained started to happen. We started to get emails from strangers, every now and again I'd receive an email from someone I had never met. They had heard our story. They had been to her orphanage. One person shared how they held her for hours as she cried. Another shared about how they tickled her and she laughed. Another told how they whispered the gospel into her ear. And so, over the years God answered our prayers. Strangers who "just happened" to have heard of our story online answered God's call to minister to our "fourth child"... And, then somehow, they found us and told us.

We did go to China in February. We did adopt. We couldn't bear to use the name Suzanna Jane. But, the Lord provided a new name to go with the child He had ready for us all along. She is a blessing. She is our fifth child. Our children still have Suzanna's pictures on their walls or in their albums. She is still in my heart. In June each year I wish her a happy birthday, hoping she is still alive, and perhaps learning more about Jesus. We all still wonder from time to time. But we know that God answers prayer. He showed us over and over again.

He didn't have to. But, he did.

I wonder. Will we have a chance to meet her one day?

Only God knows.

To Him be the glory!

Shalom,

Kim

for more "In Other Words" please visit here.

And now for a change of pace...

Our car was not broken into, rather it was driven into... Okay, the grammar isn't proper, but you get the gist, eh?

We went into the big "W" store (grrr... was only there because of the rain and it being a one-stop store and practice being cancelled without telling us so we were already there... inhale, exhale...) Okay, I'm back. Actually, it was, in the end an interesting and God honoring experience and I'm not joking at all or exaggerating either.

We came out of the store and I asked MMH,"Where did we park?" Because in the spot in which I thought we were parked was a van that looked like ours except for the fact that the back end had been rather crunched in.

So, here's the GOOD side... you know, what it's SUPPOSED to look like.

Please note how the pieces all fit together and there is no TRAUMA to the vehicle.

And then, here's the back corner and the rear left quarter panel.

Note the major division between the upper and lower portion of the quarter panel. Also the squished appearance on the corner. You can't see it but there's a whole lot of champagne colored paint there now as well.

Amazingly the lights are all intact so no need to worry that a policeman will stop me to ticket me for broken/malfunctioning lights. Whew! Sorry for the picture quality. Dark garage, dying camera battery and trying hard not to let my reflection of me in my nightie show... oh yeah, that would be fun. NOT!

So, yesterday the break in, then today the needless drive across town for the CANCELLED practice and now this... but, what was this? Although I really really thought I would get mad I couldn't. Because as I approached the car and a "W" employee asked if I needed help and pointed out the van that did this, a very sad, contrite and crying young man exited the van. I thought of my own boys and what they would be like had this happened to them and how I'd want them treated. So, we talked and I asked if he saw my daughters, now sitting in the car, to which he replied, "Yes." "Well, " I said, "they weren't hurt, I wasn't hurt and you weren't hurt. The only thing hurt was my car and my feelings because I didn't like seeing my new car banged up, but it really didn't matter because it was only a thing." I told him, and later this mother, that it's not like the car really mattered. It was all going to be destroyed in the end, but what mattered was people and their souls. I told him God was being gracious to me, I was being gracious to him. I also told him that I thought God was teaching me to be thankful for the people in my life and I hoped God was teaching him to be a good man. All in all it was quite a good time, standing in the rain, under one umbrella with the 16-year-old boy who had hit my van while his mom stood with us. We had a great time and to be honest I never really did get upset. I will say though that Mr. Policeman could have been a bit more... well, personable? He was very intense, very business like and never cracked a smile. OH well... he did his job so I guess that's good.

Next on the agenda is to find out what this little adventure will cost. OH speaking of which, at one point the young man was able to talk and make a small joke. He mentioned that he now wondered if it was worth it to make this trip to "W" just for yarn and twizzlers. He figured they were the most expensive items he had even bought. You know, $1.65 for twizzlers, a couple bucks for yarn and several thousand dollars in damage to the car. I guess that's why we have insurance.

Blessings, Kim

You shall mount up on wings, as eagles...

Well actually, it wasn't eagle wings, but it was the wings of a Cessna.

Guess we'll start about 17 years ago. This story is about Young Man. I hope to tell Senior Son's story in another post...

From an early age my boys were very different. One wanted to be in the dirt, under bushes, and up in trees, picking up every six legged creature he could find. And, to my "joy" he brought these in to share with me. Wasn't he a thoughtful boy? The other boy was a bit quieter, at times. As a baby he liked to bite noses, giggle, and eat. A Lot!

By the ripe old age of two he had made two determinations in life. You see, unlike his brother he was not interested in the bugs. He liked to watch planes fly. For big brother we would go to the state park and study every little creature we could find. We had all sorts of things to study. But, for little brother we would drive to our small local airport and watch the planes take off.

First things first. At the age of 2 we took little brother to a "Meet the Instruments" gathering at our library. One kind gentleman offered Young Man a chance to touch, hold and "play" the violin. That was all it took. He told us he wanted to play the violin. He was consistent and never gave up. By the age of 5 he was playing. And, in one of those purely "God things" it turned out that the man who introduced him to the violin became a family friend, church elder and a boss to both my sons. Isn't God amazing?

A while later... it might have been within a few months or even a year, while we were sitting watching the planes take off (and big brother was finding out what bugs live on an airport parking lot) Young Man declared he would fly a plane some day.

Now, I'm not sure how many of you would take these thoughts seriously, but we paid attention. From the age of 7 Young Man studied planes, engines, weaponry and the air force. He "knew" he was going to be an air force pilot. Alas, he learned that his eyes would not allow this and he was left in a quandary as to what to do. Now mind you, he was, at this point, merely 11 years old and in the 6th grade.

His dad and I, on the other hand, "knew" that he was called elsewhere. You see we had chosen his name with a feeling (or a certainty perhaps) that he would be called to the mission field. We chose his name for one who "came along side" of the one who spoke for God. And, when Young Man was determined to fly I had a strong feeling he'd end up as a missionary aviator. He, however, had no clue as yet. His teacher came to me one day and asked, "Do you know he's called to be a missionary?" To which I replied, "Yes." Then he asked, "Does he know?" "Not yet." A few weeks later another worker at his school came up and asked the same questions. We simply waited. One night Young Man came and asked what we thought about him serving as a missionary aviator... well, we sort of "knew" all along that God would call him. It was amazing to see the Lord's hand at work.

Time passed, Young Man finished his one year in an actual school setting and we continued homeschooling. We tried to gear his education to what he would need in his "chosen" field. During this time "At the End of the Spear" came out in both movie and book form. I thought this would be a good measure for Young Man to see what he might be called to do. First we watched "Through Gates of Splendor"... the documentary of the young men called to serve and who ended up being martyred for their faith. Later two of the wives returned and eventually God used this to bring these people to a saving faith. As I sat with my son and watched the movie and realized what God might expect, I began to shake and cry. However, Young Man looked at me and said, "Well, that made my mind up. " I figured he might have changed his mind. After all, who wants to die at the end of a spear? But, he informed me that he knew that was what God was calling him to do.

This past year was his first year in college. His program is Missions Aviation. He will graduate, Lord willing, with a pilot's license, the ability to do mechanical work on the planes he flies, an idea of how to serve as a missionary, hours of class work, mission trips, and now flight. You see, Young Man took his first solo flight. The dream he had 17 years ago came true on Monday. On runway 13O he took off in a Cessna and for one hour lived the dream of a young boy. In just 10 days he will be leaving for Africa where he will serve in his first overseas mission trip to the people of Lesotho, with MAF pilots, and 3 other students from his university.

Never underestimate the Lord. Some he calls early, some he calls late, but he has a destination and call for each of us, believers or not. I pray that you come to know the Lord of the universe as your own Father, that you may call upon the name of His son as your savior, and that He will give you a calling and purpose which will glorify Him forever.

Shalom,
Kim

He said WHAT?

Midweek programs are always interesting in one way or another. Last night we were missing our children's choir director and the teacher of the 4 year-old -Kindergarten class due to illness. Since I am just a helper in another room I volunteered to take on this roomful of energetic and enthusiastic children... 6 BUSY boys and 1 sweet but very quiet young lady. Actually I taught this same class last summer. They keep you on your toes for sure, but you are so abundantly blessed in the process that it's really not a hardship to work with them.

Well, as I mentioned previously, I was a last minute sub, no lesson plans and not even a clue as to what they usually did on a Wednesday evening. Approaching the head of the program with great hope I inquired if there was a lesson plan I might follow. The answer? "Just do whatever you want." Hmmmm

I looked around and saw the handful of mission letters from my son and an idea was born. So, this was the evening in a nutshell:

• Prayer
• talk about the Bible being truth and how we know that
• Read Matthew 28... Jesus wants all of us to talk to others about Jesus... even to the ends of the earth (discussed the ends of the earth answers including: aliens, martians, all the universe and our whole town... I clarified and and we moved on)
• I then shared about Young Man and how he got to be where he was on this mission trip... and then explained that EVERY person has something to do for God.
• We read Psalm 139: 13-16 and talked about "all our days" and "before there was one"

Then came the funny moment of the evening. I explained that God already knew what they would do to serve Him. he had it planned and written out in the book of life. I explained (to the boys) that there were certain things that most men were expected to do. So, to help them figure this out I asked what their daddies did... here are the answers: "My daddy works. He's supposed to work and he does." "My dad is a good really good doctor." "My daddy takes care of us." and then...

"My daddy's a liar." HUH?????? I questioned, "Do you mean a LEADER?" I enunciated slowly and precisely so the difference in the words could be heard. "No, I know what a leader is. Daddy's a liar. "

It's moments like then when you either sit and wonder or you burst out laughing. I squelched the burst to a little giggle and asked why he thought this.

"Well, we're all liars, pastor says so, so Daddy must be a liar too."

Aha... the crux of the matter. And, to be honest, he's right, although I would like to add that the man whose character is in question is indeed a godly man, but his son listens to the sermons and he believes them. Pastor does, in his prayer time and sermon time talk about us all being sinful, all being liars, etc. It's not that he means we walk around as pathological liars, but more that total depravity affects each of us. We are not totally evil in every possible way, but we are all, in each part of us, affected by evil and sin. Since the fall of man in the garden we all are liars, sinners, murderers, etc. And all this was brought home to me as I listened to this sweet little five-year-old in our midweek program.

Thank God for godly parents who encourage their children to really listen to sermons, prayers, and the like, for parents who teach their children that scripture is inerrant and valuable to their everyday life, and for children who are too young to worry yet about "putting on a good face" and tell it as it is. I love teaching this group of kids, they truly bless my socks off!

So, if I ever come to you and say "Guess what your child said in class." Don't worry... just find what he did say and give thanks to God that your child is a tool for His kingdom!

Shalom, Kim