Dardinelle

I have this friend. Her name is Leslie. We are having twins! That's what we say because we are having babies at about the same time. It's very exciting. This will be my 5th, her first, so she has time to do amazing things like start a onesie business. This is not to under-appreciate Leslie's overall brilliantness...she is everything cool you ever wanted to be: a rock star, an artist, an amazing teacher...blah, blah, blah...the list goes on. I wanted to make a few gender non-specific onesies for our baby (we're waiting until it's born to find out the gender) but it's all I can do to make sure we all have clean underwear right now, so I don't know if the nesting thing is going to save me or not. Leslie's onsie shop is, ironically, just what I'd been wanting to do except even more amazing! It's called Dardinelle and I really want you to help her get it off the ground! So here's what you can do: pick the onesie that you love the most (it's really hard to decide) and buy one for me! Wouldn't that be wonderful? Leslie will appreciate you, and our baby will appreciate being clothed. Really. I have a bunch of receiving blankets left over from the other kids, but that's about it. I pictured the hippo onesie "because," as the caption says, "they are always hungry." I love it!
Now go shop, and spread the cuteness!

Perjinkities

Perjinkities (pur-JINK-i-teez) n. Those little fuzzy balls hanging off of cheap sombreros.

Look at me!! I can sew!

I am really proud of this skirt I made for a little girl we know. I feel like a real sew-er...errr, seamstress. I'm making one for my girls as well, but theirs will have equally cool ORANGE ric-rac lining the bottom instead of lime green perjinkities. I've been really into orange and green lately.

The thing is, you've probably never heard of perjinkities. You've seen them, you know what they are, but the name for them has only been around for about 10 years. It came out of a game of Balderdash, which the gang played up at Westmont one night in the early 90's. It was yet another night of laughing and hilarity at lord knows what....how come we don't laugh like that anymore? I think I just haven't made aquaintences in my adult life as silly as the friends I grew up with, and like a drug, I sometimes long for a few minutes of those days so bad I can almost taste it.

Well, I tried to look up perjinkities in the dictionary and it isn't in there, which makes it seem impossible that it was in the game. Maybe I spelled it wrong. But no matter...it's still a word to us. And isn't it ironic that everyone gets giddy when they see perjinkities, they are just so fun and cute! But to me they tap into a giddiness deep down inside me, past my grown-upness, into a place between youth and responsibility where gas was cheap enough to drive all over town doing ridiculous things almost every night of the week, filling our backpacks with laughter. Ohhh, the addictive taste of laughter...

Something old, something new, something sandy, something blue!

Last Saturday we got to go on a much-needed date, much thanks to some neighbors and some very generous friends. We don't normally go on dates during the day, so we don't really know what to do but see a $3 movie at McMenamins. So we decided to go blueberry picking at Sauvie Island Blueberry Farms. It was the best blueberry picking I've ever done (except for wild blueberries in Austria that turn your mouth blue). It was lovely just to be together in nature, time to talk and be quiet and harvest and snack. They also sell Dahlias at the farm...so pretty!

We also wanted to go out to Sand in the City but we ran out of time. Then, we were going to take all the kids there, but the older ones started acting up so Dave stayed home with them while I took Morgen & Micah. It was really crowded so I'm glad I only had the two. Half the time was spent finding a bathroom, but I think they enjoyed our little outing...

The Great Wall of China
(ode to the Olympic Games)

Micah & Morgen are rockin' the Starbucks samples.

"tree-hugger"

Micah says "I love deez tings!" And he went around and labeled all four water spouts: "Kowah, Tayduh, Meghen, Micah!"

"Is it coming??"

They even got to ride the MAX... how fun!
Morgen sat next to a guy with a pretty pink mohawk and half-way through the ride Micah noticed it, gasped, pointed and yelled, "A HO-HAWK!" He was very excited.

Fourth of July, part 1...or, One Country's Birthday is Another Man's Death

"A 19-year-old man who was hospitalized after nearly drowning at Blue Lake Park, died early Saturday morning." By NICK BRADSHAW, kgw.com Staff

I really don't know what to say about this. I don't have anything spiritually or personally profound ready to pour out onto the page. I just feel that it needs to be mentioned. Something tells me that when you go through something traumatic, you ought not to ignore it and pretend it didn't happen. So by completing the Fourth of July blog with this tragedy (or starting it, depending on when you've started reading), I might be helping myself to process it, but I might also be honoring what was a real life, and not something on the news that I might take for granted.

It was like a scene from Jaws, when Brody sees what he thinks is a shark and yells at everyone to get out of the water. They are so strict at Blue Lake Park about kids polluting the water, we joked that someone must have had a little bodily-functions problem. I think I sometimes refuse to see the obvious because I just don't want the unthinkable to be happening. It didn't take long for the heavy reality to roll onto shore like a fog, blanketing the huge crowd that watched and waited. Park workers and police dove in fully clothed...down, up for air, down again. We just stood there praying and waiting, praying and waiting. My struggles with the purpose and good of prayer stood there beside me, and I just ignored it, praying anything and everything, just in case.
Are they sure there was somebody down there? They weren't finding anything! A Channel 8 helicoptor joined us in gawking at the scene, searching for presumptions to make. I am just a bystander; I don't know anything about this person, their spiritual beliefs, their family situation, what events preceded this suspense. Was it a man or a woman? How old were they? I wanted to qualify this person's life somehow, so I could know what to feel: disappointed at the prospect of their death, hopeful for their rescue, at peace about where they were going if they didn't make it...
It occurred to me that someone there had to be waiting with more expectation than the rest of us. It was easy to find the small huddle of folks crying, hugging, watching the search from the beach. So I prayed for them. I played with Micah who only knew there was a ball to throw, and Morgen who wanted to throw a frisbee with mommy. We escorted our oldest two a little further into the realities of life, and prayed with them for the victim, their family and friends. I felt completely helpless in the great big universe that God runs. It was happening, time was ticking, fragile life was expiring before my very eyes; I couldn't even use the CPR training I had completed just days before. I could feel God's presence, but there was no reason for me to be there. It was a very awkward silence.
But in that silence, my heart broke. I wanted to cry, but I stood sentry, waiting for God to unfold the story. It didn't matter, really, if I was there or not, if I had any information at all about the victim and family. This was a human creation, just like me, that God loved. End of story. It didn't matter what neighborhood he lived in, whether his parents were divorced, if he had been intoxicated, what color he was. All the details we wait for the news to spill to comfort us from the emotions of the unthinkable weren't there. God alone was in charge, and we were mere witnesses.
I'm a little bit appalled now, looking back, at my own thoughts and the conversations I overheard at the park. Even the news story seems a trite and brief epitaph to a situation that was so totally out of our control and beyond our understanding. As people, we have a responsibility to search, rescue, transport to better service, and otherwise do everything we can to save each other's lives without knowing anything deeper than the body. But to play God by labeling the situation, putting a completely impalpable circumstance into words to comfort our own selves, is...well, inappropriate and completely selfish. How often do we take it upon ourselves to qualify the news we hear, "oh, I'm ok with that freak's death, they had it coming! ....ooo, what a shame about that family's tragedy..." That's how it's spun. And I wonder if I'm ok with the fact that God's deep knowledge of and love for me is so much bigger than the world's sad ability to deal with reality....

Fourth of July, part 2...or, Friends, Franks & Fireworks!

Some of our favorite people are the Monahans and we were so glad to be able to hang out with them for an entire day (well, what was left of the day by the time we finally showed up). The Vonderkinders are in LOVE with the baby Monahans...Taylor escorts Isaiah around and they entertain each other for hours. We got to hang out with Laura's brother and some other friends of theirs who have twin girls whom Morgen really hit it off with. I wish I had pictures of Morgen running around, a twin in each hand, or chasing each other in circles around our little picnic site. I have never seen Morgen make such good friends...it was so cute! We all had a great time...

Laura & Liam laughing...(great shot, Dave!)

Andy worked for over an hour to get Isaiah to fall asleep...

Yay! The little guy's finally out!

Korah couldn't get enough of the twins' little brother (another Liam). He was a very cute baby.
Notice Micah rooting through somebody's Barbie backpack, uninvited...

Korah's going to be a great babysitter someday soon. I told her changing our baby's diapers (come October) will look great on her resume.

This is what Isaiah thought of the fireworks.

Waiting for fireworks, everyone's playing with their kids...pretty sweet scene. Morgen, to our surprise, actually wanted to be tossed in the air, but the picture shows she was still pensive, unlike Micah, who spreads out and never wants to stop. Maybe he'll be an astronaut someday...

Fireworks were fun... Micah just laughed for the first 5 minutes of it once the booming started. After a while it just got mesmerizing and started putting them to sleep. When we finally got to the car to go home, they all decided they were parched and whined for water as if they'd been stranded on a desert island for three days. From "ooooh, aaahhhhh" and laughing to complete irrational meltdown in 60 seconds. It's so obvious they're tired it has the complete opposite effect on us and we have to laugh, or we start singing goofy songs and acting silly until they are throwing shoes at us from the back seat. And then we drive through BK and get them all waters...
Thanks Andy and Laura, for a great 4th of July. It always does something good in our core to be with you. :)

Fourth of July, part 3...or, FREE BEEF- but this ain't no Les Schwab*!

For those of you keeping up on the blog, you might be wondering what happened to parts 1 and 2 of the Fourth of July, or why I am starting with part 3. Well, simply... part 3 is coming to fruition this weekend, and I wanted to tell the story before it happened. The rest of the Fourth was pretty intense and I'm still processing through it, so I'll get to that when I get to that.

--------------------

Thursday, July 3rd, I'm meeting with my coach for my volunteer leader position as a Two's leader at Imago. I'm telling her the ways that I want to be a better leader, and love on my team more and give them bonding experiences by doing things like...having them all over for a BBQ. But the thing is, my husband is between jobs right now, and we're taking frugal to a whole new level. I'm pretty sure hamburgers for a crowd isn't a real priority for us. So we brainstormed some pretty cool ways that we could get together and bond anyway, and I went away hopeful. But God heard my heart...

Next night...we come home late from watching fireworks out in Gresham, and what is sitting on our porch, but a cooler-full of hamburger patties, cheese slices, buns and chips! I instantly thought, "woah, that's a lot of hamburgers" and then, "now I can have my Two's bbq!" But I didn't want to squander the wealth of food that God had given us in a time of need, and again, I want to keep my priorities straight...feed the family first, right? As we were going to bed, we talked about this blessing of beef...60 hamburger patties in all! David said something that made me laugh and cry at the same time: "God has entrusted us with 60 patties!" I wrote it on the white-board I have hanging in our bedroom (I'm still redecorating). God has entrusted us with 60 patties. That's more than what we need to feed our family; do we really want to eat cheeseburgers for 10 days straight? OK, not that we'd have to eat them all at once, they're frozen of course. But still, that's a lot of meat for folks who weren't big red-meat eaters before. So I thought I'd mention my BBQ aspirations to David. I didn't want to sound self-serving with the provision God had given our family. But David agreed: I needed to have that BBQ. We cried and thanked God as He spoke to us:

• This isn't my ministry, and the passion in my heart was not created by me. I have already come to a point of doing this because I love God, and He's asked me to do it. Because He has shown me that he loves me, I desire to love others. Because of the way He's created me, I will lean toward loving people in certain ways, like feeding them. God knows I love to cook for people, to gather 'round and take care of some practical needs. Having a BBQ isn't about me and my objectives and how I manage my grocery budget. It's about how God wants to speak into our lives through community. If He wants a BBQ to happen, He will put it on my heart and He will make it happen. He will even shop for the burgers: He will speak to the Cox's because He knows they will listen, and He will tell them to give the leftover 4th-of-July burger supplies to the Vonderahes.

• Leading the Two's Room is not just my calling. I am part of a family, and whatever I do in ministry effects my whole family. Whatever is happening with the family effects the ministry. So whether or not anyone else is on the front lines of the ministry, we, the Vonderahes, are partnering together to lead the Two's Room. If God has laid it on my heart to have a team BBQ, it is not selfish to bring that idea to the family, it is appropriate. And as is fitting, we will love on the Two's team as a family. This may seem obvious to the spiritually healthy married couple, but for a family that's experienced years of addiction and abuse and plain 'ole cultural brainwashing, this is a [brighter] light shed on the way God designed things to work, and we are seeing what a beautiful creation He's made in marriage and family. We are Team Vonderahe, and we talk about that a lot...but it mostly has a lot to do with cleaning the house and sticking up for each other on the playground. But to think about how that applies to supporting each other in the ways that God has called us to serve Him...it's much different (and may I say more special?) than the way we might support a missionary, or support an orphan overseas. To support each other as a family is opposite of the American culture's ideal of autonomy, even within the family. I don't think that was God's intention for family, but I'll let that roll around in your head a bit and see what He says to you......

So that's my free beef story. I'm looking forward to the BBQ this weekend and to what God will do there! Hopefully, the sweet smell of grilling, and the sweet smell of Christ. :)

------------------------

*If you aren't from the NorthWest, you might not be familiar with the tradition of Les Schwab Tire Center to give away "Free Beef" with a set of new tires. Go ahead and laugh...it's funny, but so cliche, I think born northwesterners have lost the hilarity of it. But that's just my pov.

House Centipede

Everyone's napping except for me because it's just too hot, but that leaves me a perfect opportunity to learn how to use images from the web on my blog without breaking copyrights. So hopefully I have properly back-linked this picture of a House Centipede, because Dave smashed the one we found before I had a chance to take a picture of it. To his credit, he was saving my life from "this crazy scorpion...cockroach...centipede...thing" as it sped past my foot as I stood innocently at the stove putting globs of cookie dough on the stone. This happened the other night, and it was one of those things where you rush to the computer and type in something like "creepy insect with lots of legs" and you instantly get a picture of the exact thing you just smashed. Who knew this was so common? We were surprised by it, as was almost everyone else who posted a picture on Flikr. So I thought I'd share what we learned about this most creepy-looking insect.
First of all, Wikipedia (which I'm really starting to love as an information junkie) has some great information, of course. House centipedes feed on spiders, bedbugs, termites, cockroaches, silverfish, ants and other household arthropods. They live anywhere from three to seven years, depending on the environment, and mostly live outdoors in cool, dark places. So while gross and scary, they seem pretty useful! We definitely have ants at our house, and there are spiders everywhere, especially in the spring and summer...and I'm ok with those in moderation (as long as they stay outside and aren't making our house look like a haunted mansion every night) because some of them eat the poisonous spiders (like Recluses), I'm not a big fan of the flying things (mosquitos, moths), and it can be good for the garden. I see the occational silverfish, which is annoying, but I don't think they do much serious damage. We might have a few termites, but I'm choosing to ignore that for now. As for bedbugs, I'm not sure that I'd rather have a House Centipede in my bed taking care of that problem, so I'll just keep washing the linens and vacuming the mattress on a regular basis. Man, if I ever see either one of those things in my bedroom, it's time to redecorate! And cockroaches...I think I'd have to opt for the centipede...or maybe the exterminator wins that one.

Micahliciousness

"Where's Micah?" is a phrase you're going to hear if you are around the Vonderahe family for more than 20 minutes. This zaney kid (his middle name is Zane, coincidentally) constantly keeps us on our toes as a family. He's already had special priviledges that his older siblings can only aspire to, like undergoing cranio-facial surgery, being escorted home by the police, riding in an ambulance and a few near-drownings. I know...and really, I hope....that he will continue to elude death on an almost daily basis by running after life with such joy and abandon. He's not sneaky or dishonest or testing, as much as he just sees a mountain top and knows he needs to be there. I really love that about him. It inspires me to trust God and reach higher, be bolder, be unafraid.

With all those moments of panic, suspense and surprise, knowing Micah also affords us some pretty good laughs, and I want to share a few recent visuals of the hilarity that is our little "Zaney Baby"...

"Super Hero" was his favorite thing for a while, which is funny because we don't really talk, read or watch anything super-hero related. Maybe that's just his calling........

....Oh, well, except for Mr. Incredible, but he didn't have a cape. "NO CAPES!"

He likes to dress up and swing. He swings successfully in wigs and daddy's old ties.

OK, this was shocking! I was a little confused at what I was seeing at first. Korah left her suim suit in the bathtub and so, hey, why not? He has a sense of humor! And I'm thinking that suimsuit doesn't fit Korah anymore if it just about fits Micah. I'm taking it out of the system.

One night after everyone was in bed, Korah came to us and reported, "Micah was playing around with toys and fell asleep upside-down!" It looks like he gave up on the Rubik's Cube and passed out. When I lifted him up onto his pillow, he had a really firm grip on that ladder. He always has preferred to be upside-down!


Oh, and his laugh is amazing...the best sound in the world!

JOY. That about sums it up. It's freezing cold and we weren't really doing anything that exciting at the moment, but this is how Micah felt! It's contagious!

...And I love him to bits & pieces. How much more does God love him?
Micah means who is like God.

"How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are! The reason the world does not know us is that it did not know him. Dear friends, now we are children of God, and what we will be has not yet been made known. But we know that when he appears, we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is."

John 3.1-2

The Return of Summer, Hot & Sweaty

I will not complain...too much. Summer was too long coming to Portland to complain of the heat now. Being pregnant in the heat is no picnic, but I'd rather have chores piling up because it's too hot to be inside than because the rain is making me too depressed to move.

But things are looking up finally... I made some iced coffee which was nice in itself, but it pleased the man so much it made it twice as nice! Not only that, but we sat in our plastic deck chairs at the side of the kiddie pool, soaking our feet, sipping our deliciousness-on-ice, just pleased as pie at how much better we felt outside. When my glass was empty, I just decided it was time to take the plunge into the grass- and toy-infested waters myself, clothes and all, which delighted the little ones to no end, who immediately dog-piled my pregnant body. AHHHHHH, REFRESHING!! Then we turned down pleas from the older ones to visit the local public pool in exchange for spending the last of our vacation money on going to see WALL*E as a family....a perfect air-conditioned ending to this hot and sweaty day. And to top it all off, I found something cute to wear to church tomorrow, again getting creative with the clothes I have rather than fork it out for billowy maternity dresses. (I'll admit, however, that I spent the day in a very comfortable -and kind to the sunbrnt, pregnant body- Mu'u Mu'u, which I got from Hawai'i and not from the Polyesters-R-Us Catalog, no offense you-know-who!)

This is the road into the Cove Palisades Campground, near Lake Billy Chinook. It's definately the desert side of Mt. Hood, and reminds us of good 'ole California in the rocky, dry, "maybe it will spontaneously catch fire" sort of beauty. There were Hawks circling the river and lake all the time, who no doubt roost in the rocky cliffs...that was pretty cool. We actually saw a deer and a wild rabbit, and the kids were chasing lizards --um, excuse me-- "Geckos" (but I'm not so sure about the scientific accuracy of that label) every day, and even incorporated them into their playing "house" games.

Camping was a little less satisfying than I expected...and I blame most of it on being 5 months pregnant. I was so wiped out most of the time, and NOT in the mood to be "missional" with my vacation. I wanted to be alone with my brood, with space for wildlife between us and the next family...but that's not how it came to pass. As it turned out (and I should've known this when I booked a campsite that seemed to "overlap" the campsites that flanked it, however perfectly close to the playground and bathrooms it was), we were in the dinkiest campsite, wedged between the Clackamas Middle School Girls' Soccer team and the neighborly Perpetual Campers, whose stay is indefinite because, we speculated, it's cheaper than renting an apartment. This was the worst part, and I'll do all my complaining about this quick so I can end on what I loved. Understand that it's not that I hate people or that I don't want to minister to the neighborhood children (that's actually my dream) but I just didn't have it in me to be social, and thank God (seriously) I have a husband who should totally be running Summer Backyard Kid's Clubs because he was SO awesome at reaching out to this family when I was just struggling to not come off as a total anti-social. David is SO good with the kids! These two smudgy little muchkins were at our campsite from the moment they crawled out of their tents in the morning to come and beg us for bacon until they left with s'mores stuck to their faces at night. Then there was their 12-year old "brother" who was really the little ones' uncle, I think, who would just plop himself down in one of our camp chairs and challenge everything--everything--that David said or did, from how to chop wood, to video game experience. He was disrespectful not only to David, but to his mom and dad especially, which was really annoying...but also really sad. His parents are in their late 50's and possibly retired, possibly with disability, and they have custody of their grandkids (pictured s'mores munchers), so this kid is probably in need of a Big Brother. I'm not sure what exactly God wanted by putting us next to this friendly but boundary-less family, and maybe my pregnant lethargy/bad attitude was getting in the way, but we opened up our vacation and let them in, mostly thanks to David's big heart and gift for loving people. David was especially awesome when we were packing up, and Trey (the little boy) was following him around, wanting to help him with everything, hanging on David's every word. Dave taught him how to "munch" the camp chairs and the tent poles with the bags they get packed in, and would repeat David's rules, like "munch it all up!" and "tie it tight!" When everything was packed, he announced "it's time to load it up [in the trailer]! Load this stuff up!" And when we were all done and ready to roll, Trey wondered if David was going to stay while the rest of us went home. So cute! Hmmm....I'm getting a clearer picture of what to pray for this family, and if I can be faithful to pray and that's the only reason God put us there, that's good enough for me.
Other than the lack of campsite personal space, it was a good spot: the playground was right next to us so the kids could run off and play anytime and could still be seen, there was a loop around it where they could ride their bikes endlessly, and there were huge boulders for bouldering...or playing house, depending on your outdoor experience. This was the first time Morgen had a bike of her very own to ride and she LOVED it. It was so awesome to hear her little voice asking "mommy, can I ride my bike?" I love that she has a bike she can call her own. Then she would strap on her little hand-me-down helmet and go!

For three days we would just hang out at Lake Billy Chinook swimming, building sand walls, rowing around in our awesome inflatable boat (and dreaming of the day when we'll have a ski boat and all the kids get to bring a friend on our family ski trip). Pretty much doing what we came for: relaxing.

Here are some more pictures:

The swimming hole at The Cove Palisades

Mich loves the freedom his Life Jacket affords him.
He loves the water and is pretty much fearless!

Yum...PB&J and chips...lots of chips!
Better known as "camping food"

Grab a snack and back down to the construction site!

Korah liked to wrap herself in her towel and go lay in the sun
on the warm sand, while the rest of us were sweating in
the shade or jumping in the water to cool off!

Mommy & Morgen time

Looking for Geckos...
...and that squirrel that kept getting into our lunch!

Micah's living the good life!

Aren't we all? That was pretty much it, except for our 8-hour adventure getting there, where we broke down, prayed for guidance and God sent an angel (who pulled over behind us for some random reason and just happened to have knowledge and experience with our EXACT problem) who went above and beyond to help us with our car troubles and get us on our way.... but that's a story for another time...

SOOOO excited!

We are SO excited to go camping next week! David set up the tent in the front yard to make sure we had all the parts, and the kids immediately set up their sleeping bags in there. It was hard to get them out and into their real beds tonight!

I remember using this tent when Korah was a baby and we set up the playpen in there for her, and there was plenty of room left. Now all four kids get in there and I had to wonder where we were going to sleep! So it looks like if things go as planned, it will kinda be like home, with the kids all goofin' around in one tent while we get our own little space to keep clean and tidy in another tent. :D

Now you may or may not be a "camper" but we absolutely thrive on camping. Yes, the dirty, smokey, tent kind of camping where you cook your meals on the fire pit and it takes a half an hour to boil water for a cup of coffee. For some reason, being out in the middle of somewhere new, surrounded by the sounds of different wildlife and neighbor campers, with new rocks to overturn and new trees to hide behind, the kids get along swimmingly for DAYS on end. Dave just builds fires and plays guitar. I journal and read to my heart's content...or I just sit there in my camping chair with my head leaned way back to stare up into the tall trees, listening to the birds chatting about all the wonderful Vonder-crumbs to eat and the kids inventing some new adventure, and I simply enjoy the absence of a to-do list. Now that I've figured out how to prepare food with little to no work or dishes, camping has become so rejuvenating for me. And maybe because I am relaxed, the whole family relaxes ('cuz if mama ain't happy, you know...) and our whole family is simply recharged at the end of our time. Exhausted and wishing we could camp forever, but full of gladness that we went. There are no playdates to drag our kids away, none of our grown-up obligations. It's just us and we love on each other and love Jesus together and I just love camping. Camping is my favorite!

In Loving Memory...

Ralph Arthur Youmans
March 11, 1920 - June 17, 2008
88 years

Laid to rest in Oregon on June 20th, 2008

"May the Divine assistance remain always with us and may the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.
Amen."

This was my first official funeral. I really didn't know what to expect-- like, was everyone going to be sobbing or was it going to be all stoic with fancy black hats and rain? Was it going to be open-casket, or a mysterious box that could have been just for show for all I know? Well, it turns out that when you know the person who died, you just go. It doesn't matter what you wear or how your emotions are treating you, or if you approach the site laughing because the kids you came with are joyously yelling "HI!!" to all the relatives they are recognizing at such a somber occasion. You go because the person meant something to you, and you stand there to represent that relationship. You listen to the words spoken, the songs sung. If you are moved to tears, you are free to flow. If you are moved to joy, you smile and praise God! Oh, and it turned out to be the most beautiful day of the year so far in this area. Surrounded by snowcapped mountains, forests, and wildflower-sprinkled rolling hills, I felt like I was back in the valleys of Austria. It was truly lovely. The picture and words above were from the prayer card the Father gave us.

It began with a soldier playing taps on a modified bugle. I couldn't tell if he was really playing or just cheek-syncing. I've heard taps played by a true bugler and it's very moving. Today's effect was more like pushing play on a boom box to play a wedding march...a little disappointing, so I had to do a little research. I found out here that this soldier was definitely cheek-syncing and there were definitely buttons involved. Oh well. Moving on...

As soon as Taps was finished, Aunt Mary remarks, "Someone can't carry a tune!" Which is hilarious because that soldier wasn't even responsible for that tune and it was so far away she probably couldn't hear it anyway! Vikki told me she'd been wisecracking all weekend. I haven't decided if that is sad or funny.

The soldier came around and met his counterpart at the coffin to ceremoniously fold the American Flag draped across. As long as that takes, I always find it fascinating to watch, and I like to let it reignite the patriotism within me. The counterpart presented the folded flag to Mary with some words she had to lean in to hear, then she sat back and said, "Did you have to learn all that?" Echoes of "oh grandma!" are heard all around. I'm loving it...and realizing that it is more funny than sad. Cierra, accompanied by her brother Brandon, sang Amazing Grace, Uncle Ralph's favorite hymn. She was beautifully overcome with emotion after the first verse, so Laura stepped in with Brandon to sing the rest. It was a beautiful show of love for their Grandpa, and support of each other, something that Ralph himself set a standard for. The Father said some words and prayed, and I can only remember the part that brought me to tears: he spoke about Jesus conquering death by his own death and resurrection, and how because of that, the grave no longer represents sadness, but to believers it means hope and life. I love that Truth! Personally, I picture Ralph patiently waiting for Mary to be by his side again, a little sorry that he broke their pact for her to go first and for him to follow. And when he's ready, he'll be catching up on hugs and kisses with his sister and brothers and other loved ones who have already made it to heaven. Jumping around in their new bodies, for sure!

The sun will no more be your light by day,
nor will the brightness of the moon shine on you,
for the Lord will be your everlasting light,
and your God will be your glory.
Your sun will never set again,
and your moon will wane no more;
the Lord will be your everlasting light,
and your days of sorrow will end.
Isaiah 60.19,20

After the funeral we headed to Tom & Adrienne's for food and remembering...I think all of Ralph's children and grandchildren were there, as well as a bunch of great-grandchildren running around, finding the fattest earthworm for Jake to eat for $100 (a collection was taken!). I sat around with mostly my second cousins, the "first cousins". Judy had to get a picture of them all because they are almost never all together in the same place all at once. It was beautiful to hear their stories about Grandpa. He was a hard worker, with very little patience (from which they learned patience), maybe a bit proud, but he had a servant's attitude, and lived to help others. Especially his Mary... it was profound the way he loved Mary. I heard a story of one of Ralph's recent stays in the hospital, where upon waking up from the surgery, he looked around the room desperately, his eyes passing over all the familiar faced until they landed on the face of his Beloved, and he reached out a hand for her to grasp onto, as if to say "I'm back! I haven't left you yet!" He felt a strong duty to take care of his wife...but it was more than duty. He loved his Mary and didn't think anyone could take care of her better than he could, and he was probably right! I hope to be married that long and have a love that deep when we are in our 80's...

Some of the boys were reminiscing about the things that Grandpa taught them, like how to fold a painting drop-cloth, not unlike how the soldiers folded the flag, with ceremonious exactness. He would get so frustrated with them not doing it right, and then they'd just start to mess with him until he understood... but today they won't stand for a tarp or dropcloth to be folded any other way! More than once I heard my cousins say that Grandpa taught them how to drive, and then we would talk about what a crazy speed-demon he was in the end... but there's no way anyone could have ever convinced him to give up his right to drive! I rode with him and Mary once recently, and while I have to admit I was a little nervous, I was struck with how Mary was totally unfazed by the speed and the quick turns. She was totally at peace letting her husband be in control. I just chose to believe that she has learned a beautiful respect for her husband.

I love the fact that Ralph invested so much in his grandchildren's lives. Not having had grandparents close to me, a cross-generational relationship is hard for me to fathom. Yet I can see the humongous legacy that Ralph left through his relationship with his grandchildren. It is certainly enviable. He set a foundation that this family is so obviously rooted in, one of mutual and unconditional respect and love. His family is most certainly not perfect, and has most definitely had it's share of trials and hardships, but they stick by each other and walk through things together, so that here we are at the end of a road, in the wake of a death, and there is probably more love and acceptance in this congregation than at any church you will ever find. From their marriage, to the birth of Kathy to the newest little Layla, this family has journeyed together to this place, and I am thankful to be a part of it, even if just on the fringes. Enviable indeed.

Rest in peace and praises to Jesus, Uncle Ralph....
(...say hi to grandma for me!)

Wishful Thinking....

I really want to blog more....really. And I think I want to blog with my mom in mind...you know, to keep her up on funny things the kids do, etc. And this would be the place for that kind of stuff....serious stuff that's going into my autobiography can be on some other serious blog.

The thing is, I really don't have time to blog. I need to get in the swing of it maybe. But since I'm here now, I'll tell you what happened tonight that was funny...

We're at a cafe up the street, there's a blues duet on the mini-stage, and suddenly Micah (3 1/2) comes out of the bathroom (right next to the stage) with his pants and undies around his ankles. He shuffles straight to his mama for help pulling things up, because that is totally normal to him! Surprisingly nobody saw him really---which I'm glad about---but it was also hilarious, so I'm kinda bummed I'm the only one who saw it.

Restore My Soul

Here's another song that has moved me since, well, at least the early 90's when I first heard it...mostly for the music which is impossible not to dance to...which in itself is impressive being a "Christian" song and all. But recently, as I heard the song again on my old Mix Tape, I heard the lyrics for the first time. Not that I really had never heard them before, but they were sorta poetic garbledy-gook to me before. Suddenly it was me in that picture, my fingers, my spirit, my soul in need of restoration...

Restore My Soul-- The Choir

I call to you with one lung exploded

from breathing the dust of the earth

with my tongue eroded

from licking the crust of the earth

a tear away from reconciled

a prayer away from whole

restore my soul...

I cry to you with two eardrums blistered

from laughing at pictures of night

with my vertebrae twisted

from dancing with creatures of night

a day away from sanctified

a breath away from whole

restore my soul...

I crawl to you with ten fingers smoking

from turning the pages of sin

with my spirit choking

from earning the wages of sin

a bridge away from justified

a step away from whole

restore my soul...

Imagine crawling on blistered hands and bloody, dirty knees toward Jesus. You know that he's closer than he looks--a blurry image out of reach--because you can hear his voice, although it is a Truth that merely whispers through the noisy crowds and clouds of lies and culture, history and codependancy.

Two extraordinary things happened as I drug my tattered soul toward the blurry image of Christ, leaving a trail of bloody mud as I went. The final thing is what I'll tell you first. I recognized one day my own image in the mirror, and it was more like the one I used to know, the one more innocent and clean. The blood was gone, and the wounds were...not open...and still tremendous scars, pretty ugly, gnarly scars, pink and fragile, but what's that? No pain. Even as I touched them, lightly at first--no pain! Of course, once in a while I would have to jump back in a sudden searing sting, like the scars were being meddled with by a tick or some huge, intrusive insect. But a swat away, and my mind is snapped back to that Truth that is all too real to me now, and the pain subsides. I rub gently the scars as the adrenaline melts. I sometimes whisper the name of Jesus over and over.

The first extraordinary thing is that the closer I got to Jesus, the more in focus the blurry image became, the less it looked like what I thought Jesus was supposed to look like. Instead of this iconic, longhaired stranger-man in a dress [robe] coming at me with arms open as if all I needed was a big hug, I saw a woman with blonde hair who makes me feel like I still live in California, and there were tears in her eyes as she watches my Lover dice up my heart and lay it on the table like a tempting sushi display, and I could tell her heart was breaking right alongside mine as she served us both grace in a chocolate cake. I saw another woman with sad eyes of understanding and compassion watch me through plastic glasses, her token red lips telling me that because of Christ, I will survive this. And yet another woman, running alongside me on a treadmill, coaching me to work out the body and heal the soul, and I remember how we strengthened muscles, built up endurance and how my head cleared until I finally understood that Jesus actually loves me, just the way I am, with all this blood and dirt and brokenness. I saw the couple who counseled us, smiling with the certainty that of course we'll get through this, like they knew that we'd already won, and they were calling it like it was, showing us the truth and asking us what was stopping us from doing the hard thing. As the image got clearer I saw that it was actually countless babysitters and friends and neighbors, helping me with the everyday tasks of life, and believing in the future that I myself could not bring myself to believe in. He looked like all the people who said they'd stay by me until my heart was whole, promising that happy endings are possible, that you just have to take the risk and trust God with what 'happy' is going to look like, because you have never seen anything like this before.

As Jesus came into focus I realized it wasn't one guy in a robe--it was a whole crowd of people, each of them carrying Christ's redemption in their own hearts, each of them an oak, a priest, a shepherd. As I approach this Jesus I am enveloped, and I am no longer crawling. They absorb my body and I absorb theirs, and I remember suddenly how my soul got to taking that nosedive into an empty pool. It was a long ladder up to the diving board. I didn't always realize where I was going or that I was still climbing, because there seemed to be so many people there with me, the whole world seemed to be cheering me on, my Lover just rungs above me, just out of reach, and I needed to touch him. Finally at the top I'm so close, I can almost feel-- I lunge out arms extended....into nothing...emptiness.

My lungs explode and I can't breathe, I notice finally the eroded state of my tongue and I can't speak, the pain of my blistered eardrums (I can't hear God!), the twisting of my vertebrae. My fingers burn, blistered and smoking, and my spirit....chokes. What have I done, what have I become?

Then the tears. Days and days of tears. And the prayers. Some are mine, many are not, because I just don't have the strength. Days go by, sometimes taking years just to pass hours, and I have to remember to breathe, so He breathes on me, an immaculate CPR and my consciousness resumes...Those friends, those bodies making up the image of Christ, they have been busy building a bridge for me, and wholeness is on the other side. Before I can wonder if I have faith enough, I realize I've already been walking across the bridge, and my steps have brought me to justification, sanctification..... and I am reconciled... to Jesus! Reconciled to my Father. I plead with grateful tears for him to restore my soul and he tells me it has already been done, and I am whole.

And yes, I'll take that big hug now....

"Return, faithless people," declares the LORD, "for I am your husband. I will choose you...Then I will give you shepherds after my own heart, who will lead you with knowledge and understanding..."

Jeremiah 3:14,15

An Easier Yoke

I don't mean for this to be all about pain and suffering, but it's our common denominator as people, isn't it? We are all broken, everyone you see is going through something hard, or just has, or will soon. How do we ever lose sight of compassion? I love this quote from a friend; it illustrates well a pain we all know or will know:

"Hurting is the blood that drips down to my fungus-infected feet." --J.K.E

I kinda doubt that Jesus had athlete's foot, but this is just a smidgeon of the pain that Christ felt as he hung on the cross for us. Just think about that: your pain times the population of the world... But He died so that our pain wouldn't kill us. Instead, he takes it on for us and we live--we actually find rest for our bleeding souls.

"Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light." --Matthew 11.29-30

Have some compassion today, people. Be gentle and humble in heart...it's a much easier yoke to bear. God loves you.