Known and Loved

To my dear friends in blogosphere . . .
Thank you for your understanding and encouragement in these past days.
There is healing that happens when we are able to express our feelings
and know that we are not alone.
I want you to know that your words have meant a lot to me and I have  felt your prayers.
For today I will continue in my reflective mood
by sharing the gist of one of my paper journal entries . . .

from Psalm 139
You have searched me,LORD,
and you know me.

² You know when I sit and when I rise;

you perceive my thoughts from afar.

³ You discern my going out and my lying down;

you are familiar with all my ways.

⁴ Before a word is on my tongue

you, Lord, know it completely.

⁵ You hem me in behind and before,

and you lay your hand upon me.

⁶ Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,

too lofty for me to attain.

⁷ Where can I go from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?
⁸ If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
⁹ If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
if I settle on the far side of the sea,
¹⁰ even there your hand will guide me,
your right hand will hold me fast.

When it comes to the One who knows me completely, it is actually freeing to know that I cannot pretend to be something I am not. The fact is  -  He still loves me. In my anger, my disappointments and my shortcomings,  His love for me is saturated in grace. He knows how I am made and is able to see my shortcomings as the perfect condition in which He will show forth His power and glory.
 

From the Mouth of a Child



My thoughts have been on the cost of being a third culture kid. This term was coined in the early 1950s by American sociologist, Ruth Hill Useem, in reference to children who accompany their parents into another society. For myself, it meant moving about a number of times, born into a German speaking family in Uruguay, moving to Brazil for elementary schooling and then to Canada to learn my fourth language. Maybe it's knowing the feeling of trying to fit into a new culture and how that can affect you for the rest of your life, that has had me contemplating this.

I did not even have to think long on it when, one evening last week, Tehya came back to our place from her choir practice crying. When I asked her what had happened, she told me that no one had talked to her and that she had felt left out when groups got together to plan for weekend choir camp. Taking into consideration that she is not completely new here and that this can happen to anyone I wondered if this was something to talk about in more detail. Hesitating somewhat, I asked her if she sometimes felt this way because she did not have the history with the other kids here. She immediately nodded, and said yes. She knew what I was talking about. I told her I know what she feels.

It so happened that earlier in the day she had seen my tears and had asked the reason. I had not given her an answer, but now I thought I would. I explained to her that my biggest sadness about them going away is that one day she will find out that she has no place to really call home. Do you know what she told me?

"Well, that is a sacrifice I can make."

She is a strong girl, our Tehya. So much so, that she will not ever want to make anyone else feel left out of the hope they can have.



Nighttime Soul Searching

In the dark, the bedroom clock moves on to the third hour while my weary mind tries desperately to find that illusive sleep.  Turning on my tear stained pillow, my inward being fights the nausea and the next wave of tears coming on, afraid of the tell tale signs the morning will surely bring. I'm angry about my tears and what they are doing to me, maybe even more so than about the announcement that is causing me this grief.

People ask how I feel about my kids moving back to Indonesia. How do they think I feel? Another nail pounded into the coffin of that perfect world with my loved ones around me.

It is a peculiar game now playing with my sadness, postponing acceptance by by my denial, anger and bargaining - trying to find a peg to hang my hat on. There are the moments I tell myself that I don't care. These do not last long but, to my chagrin, only serve to bring more tears. Then, there is a close follow up emotion of simply resigning myself to this life of long distance relationships, only to find that resignation is not good enough.

Could it be that God has something better for me? I know He does, but to be honest, I'm afraid of what it will cost. As the clock ticks on, I pray. Search me, O God, and know my heart. Try me and know my anxious thoughts and see if there be any wicked way in me and lead me in the way that is everlasting.

My sleep comes when I begin to thank Him and trust Him. I thank Him for these two bonus years I've had and what they have meant. I thank Him for good relationships and cousins getting to know each other. I thank Him for how He has made something beautiful of the future I feared ten years ago. If He has done so much already, can I not put my trust in Him to do the same again?  Trusting in His sovereignty is a moment by moment choice, not easy, but the most rewarding in the end.

Deja Vu and Reality

Tehya, Paeton and Makenna moved in with us for part of this week while mom and dad were away.
In this unusual reality, my thoughts have been with younger moms
and how their days play themselves out.
I decided that if I were a young mom, I would not find time to blog
 There's a whole lot of things I probably would not be doing.
Having said that, I wish to tell any moms out there in the midst of raising your children,
it's going to be okay. On days when it feels like you are forever
picking things off the floor
wiping counters
folding tossed clothing
running the bath
cleaning up the bath
moving shoes around
filling backpacks
fixing messy ponytails
listening
comforting
thinking ahead
picking up milk again . . .
with no one really noticing


 

 

or applauding the hero you are when
 they are called to dinner,
when they find their matched up clean socks in the basket,
when you watch from the side at a steamed up indoor pool,
when you remind them to practice piano . . .
help them find the supplies for a school project . . .
 cheer them on from under an umbrella in a cross country run,
take them to Sunday school and clubs
and camp and youth . . .

. . . let me assure you, this is not forever.

One day you will watch them walk across that stage
and you will cry and you will be proud and know you did the best you could.
You will have helped them become the heroes of the next generation . . .
and then there will be time for all the things you wish you could be doing.

For today and every tomorrow, know that what matters is what God sees.
I look back in wonder and thank Him for His grace.
 

The kids were handed off and my hat changed . . .
We have been preparing two menus to cook up for the kitchen theatre
at the West Coast Women's Show
The first is on Friday at two
the second one Saturday at noon.

Much of the rest of the time we'll be hanging around the beautiful Winks booth.
Two years ago they were excited to sell our first cookbook at the show . . .
this weekend they are bringing in a number of boxes of the Celebrations book as well.
As you may know, all author royalties of this book go to the WASH program in Kenya
while Winks has committed their  profit to a charity on top of that.
We'll be happy to see all who can come!

 

Leaf Crunching on a Sunday Afternoon

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bathroom Makeover

The 1980's cabinet

and the 2010's  cabinet.

I cleaned our the entire old cabinet with a trash bag close at hand.
Sometimes you have to wonder why you've kept something for so long.
One example:
I like having my make-up off the counter but easy to get to.
Many moons ago, I concocted an organizing scheme, using an assortment
of those thin plastic cookie liners found in a bag of cookies, such as oreos.
These liners, along with a few card box lids, worked great!
I could have kept them for another few decades and my girls would have had a good laugh
when their time comes to clean out my cabinets.
 

But no more! I found this beautiful vanity organizer
(don't you just love the name?)

and wouldn't you know it? It fit in the new drawer, like it was made to order!

For bigger personal items, I use a couple of low Ziploc containers.
His and hers.

Now I'm just waiting for someone to tell me they prefer the first cabinet
and why did we change it up?

 . . . for everything a season . . .