I should be napping...

What is it about children and naps? I would give my right eye and possibly my left leg (since it has a dozen mosquito bites already that I am just sure are Dengue fever ridden anyway) for a nap right now. But NO, Jude is laying in our bedroom screaming his lungs out because he is being forced to take the rest I so badly need. You may be asking yourself why I need a nap so bad, and I will tell you – because I am a mother. Kids don't need naps. Mom's do. Because in the last week we have had 2 Christmas celebrations, said goodbye to everyone we know and love, made a 49 hour traverse to Florida with 7 children (2 of which puke when they get in a car), flown to a foreign land, drove 4 hours to our apt. (which is beautiful but OH SO COMPLICATED), and enrolled in language school and begun our “adventures”. It has been quite physically demanding: climbing over a ½ dozen car seats every 10 minutes to reach an every important blankie, cracker, or bane-of-my-existence water bottle which contributed to a never ending need to “stop and pee,” hauling 300 lbs. of luggage (which I am proud to announce after MONTHS of packing – seems to be about adequate, and finally in the last 2 days we have walked miles on end to procure every item except a kitchen sink (including a bucket big enough to bathe 2 kids in) that we couldn't pack. But more than my utter physical exhaustion ( which I KNOW Jude shares – and which is why – thank the Lord – He just went to sleep) my emotional exhaustion is about the end of me. 

We have “slept” in 5 different places in the last week but I may have gotten 5 hours of sleep total. I wake at every noise thinking the kids must be waking and are frightened of the new surroundings... and than I spend the next hr. thinking about how the past day went and how the next day will go and he 10 million details that could go wrong. I sound like the picture of emotional health don't I. Oh and by the way – I miss you all... and it takes so much of my energy. So much, in fact that I thought a few minutes on the computer might be more resting than sleep. Does that make sense? I didn't think so... but neither does my life.

Needless to say, I have a million stories to tell... details of puke and pit stops that make me evermore amazed at the Lowery clan, but that will never be fully scribed because of my new found amazement with Honduran culture. How am I ever going to share my life with you while I am here? I don't know... week by week I guess... photo by photo... don't forget about us down here... we are doing well... God is working... somehow... we will only know in hind sight I'm sure....

Please write. I love you all.  

IOWA

If Christmas in Iowa with Jarod's family is not predictable I don't know what is. I've been joining them for this “traditional” gathering, whenever we can for the past 8 years. And with my erratic personality and our mobile life each year I more deeply appreciate the routine, and the comfort of the known and expected (It also gives me a renewed insight into why my husband is the stable man that he is). Now that I know what to expect, this year's 8 hour drive to Iowa was ALL that I knew it would be. There was:

Grandma Mary: The matriarch of the family, who, is managing a farm all by herself and greets our noisy arrival after days of hurried preparation.

Farm. Each year something breaks or has been broken for months but Grandma Mary in her frugility has done without until some in-law or grandson comes along with a few tools and few hours on their hands. This year it was faucets and bathtubs....

Ping pong... I don't know, I don't play... but someone always is... for days straight... and they start 'em young.

Snow (in large amounts which caused much discussion and slight worrying about pipes, roads, etc... like every year... but plenty of inspiration for the smallest guests to venture out in -20 wind chill.)

Food (I could predict the menu 2 months in advance but NO ONE can predict just exactly how much sugar I can consume if it is laid in front of me for 3 days straight.) Next year, another in-law and I are going to do hourly blood sugar tests on ourselves and chart the damage. (We have this EXACT picture of me last year - except last year I was debating over which cookie to eat - this year I have a second waiting in the wing...)

Cousins. I guess this is why we go... all of us making the long journey to a town in nowhere U.S.A. For several days which revolve around the kitchen and the bad weather... so the cousins can know each other... and know where they are from... so that they can grow up to be stable, predictable, and consistent people... just like Jarod.

Speaking of consistent – check out our children … we are pretty consistent, don't you think?  

It's all over but the cryin'

...Well, almost... and the packing, and the traveling. I guess it is really just beginning, but in the last week: we have had our last family dinners, I spoke at our last ladies Bible study, my parents hosted a fabulous going away party for us, Lucy started eating cereal, Jude debuted as a Shepherd in a Christmas program, and Jarod and I both had our birthdays).  And this is all just a running start to the weeks ahead. If they are all this good I will die a happy woman... but I will die shortly of exhaustion.

I am going to attempt to keep up with Monday blogging but for those of you that are keep a running tally of the insanity, here goes:

Tomorrow - move out 

Wednesday - clean

Thurs - Sun - Iowa trip to visit Tippy family

Mon-Wed - figure out how to get all this stuff into manageable luggage, and say goodbye and cry a lot

Thurs - Christmas... leave for Miami - 7 kids under the age of 5 on a 28 hr drive. Prayers anyone?

Sun Dec 28... foreign soil....

Until then please enjoy:

A LITTLE BIT 'A JUDE

P.S.  The Tourrettes is in remission or maybe just the calming atmosphere we provide him has cured everything! :)

A LITTLE BIT 'A LU

P.S. I love the audio on this more than anything... it just shows that it is all down hill after breast milk... sorry my dear Oregonians... our Christmas cookies are just better here...

2 pans, 2 pair, 8 days

So with 8 days until we move I am feeling a little overwhelmed (as evidence I filed my nails last night at midnight – I haven't done that since I was overdue with Lucy... I only do that I guess when big stuff needs to happen but I feel helpless... can someone psychoanalyze that for me?) Anyway, they look nice but my house does not. Partially because as Jude says, we have “turned our house into a store.”
Last week 3 international students came through and bought all but two of my pans. For $7. I don't really know why I decided to sell my pans along with our car, furniture, motorcycle parts, nicknack's and unused greeting cards but my friend bought those for me 5 years ago for $10 and well – you get what you pay for. I guess am kind of hoping that if the Honduras thing doesn't work out at least I'll get new pans out of the deal. In the meantime, according to Jarod - “We'll starve.” and I guess Jude will keep begging to sell his stuff at our store too (He is saving for a new fire helmet.. which he will have to wear on the plane because Jarod has enforced a 150 lb luggage limit on a family of 4... not fair... not even nice).

Then as I was going through some old trunks I found these handy little sunglasses of Jude's... I was just thinking the other day Lucy was gonna need a pair and WA-LA there they were... so I guess we are COMPLETELY ready to move ... and maybe I'll go paint my nails now.



P.S. Here's Jarod with his 2 screens... notice the new one isn't 1/2 the size of the old one so he is going through a little trauma as well these days...

P.P.S. Korene... if you read this... I loved the pans.. and I really got your money's worth out of them :).

So they say he has Tourette's…

My family has always been a strange flavor of hypochondriac. Because of the nature of my parent’s work, where others see "quite", they see "autism". Where others may see "moody" they see "schizophrenic." They are like a pair of walking DSM-IV's. And where I see Jude with a scratchy throat they apparently see the beginnings of lifelong nervous tics and social estrangement. Ahhh… it warms a mother’s heart to know that the grandparents think the kid is a freak. No, in all honesty 4 months ago Jude did developed this odd blinking obsession that comes and goes – we attributed it to our premature and thorough “winking lessons” – but now he has developed this nervous “throat clearing” that is anything but endearing. Actually it is so annoying it makes me want to cry.
But they say whether it’s Tourette’s or “transient tic disorder” the worst thing you can do is mention it to the child - so I am venting to cyberspace tonight. (Oh and the second worst thing you can do is put your kid through any kind of stress… but I am assuming that means any stress other than moving him from his home, his toys, his church, his friends, his grandparents, and his cousin to a developing country where he doesn’t speak the language and can’t drink the water… right?)
Anyway, I won’t go into my file of hypochondriac issues that my children have narrowly escaped (but suffice to say that I am more relieved than one should be that they both have 2 arms and are gender specific.) But just know that a dear friend of mine came over today and just said, “I always prayed over my children and any medicine they might be taking.” And seriously… it was like a novel idea to me. Huh? you mean I could pray instead of directing these elaborate mental melodramas about how my outcast child will cope with his sophomore year? That is far too practical... I’ll have to think about that.
In the meantime I have decided that if my parents have formed a correct (and I might add miraculously early) diagnosis… it really isn’t that big of a deal. Right? He’s gonna be made fun of. And well, he is gonna be made fun of anyway, because last week in his little Alphabet class the teacher laughed at him when he said thanksgiving was, “about God.” And well folks, there just ain’t nothing I can do about that situation either. Actually I could pray about that too, couldn’t I? But I think I’ll worry a little first… oh and review these photos to remind myself how ADORABLE the ticy little kid is.







P.S. I also have an untreatable condition… it is called GLUTTONY and the symptoms are usually latent for many years, appearing only in slowly increasing underwear sizes… but after 3 thanksgiving dinners and twice that many pieces of pie, every inch of my body is feeling the pain….

thankful

I shan't waste your time with my laundry list (DO waste your time on the videos) but my top three this year are living in Hays, my husband and my children; which in a theological summary is to say: I am most grateful that the God of the Universe has a blatant and reckless disregard for what I swore I did not want from life.

Ahhh ... Kansas, Where else could you get this?




What do you get when you combine my mother, a dozen kids, 6 tweens, a church potluck, one teenager with a camera, a few instruments, and ten minutes to kill? This... I guess





It brings me a lot hope that I can be so deeply happy living what I thought would be the worst life ever... maybe one day I will even be thankful for this bloody new camera ( I hate mastering new electronics... almost as much as I hate the quadrillion useless pictures we take in the process.)

blogging is for cry-babies

The deep emotion of embarrassment can still overwhelming me if I think of my mother crying throughout my childhood. My mom cried. A lot. At funerals, weddings, family gatherings, church pot lucks, reading the newspaper, telling a story, saying hello, eating ice cream (actually - never eating ice cream… she says, in fact, that is why she eats junk food – because she learned long ago you can’t cry with a whole candy bar in your mouth).
In short – I am now my mother. ‘Cause people, I need a whole lot of candy bars these days.
My public crying life started at 18 when I first cried over a ridiculous baby animal video – my friends stared in disbelief and it has all been downhill from there. The overflow of tears may have worked to my advantage in some marriages but Jarod learned within the first year that they didn’t really mean a whole lot other than “She’s ‘feeling’ something,” therefore he might as well just wait it out. He actually had to accompany me at times when I went to talk to professors because otherwise the poor old guys wouldn’t know what to do with me. He’d say, “Don’t worry about her crying… she just strongly disagrees with xyz.” Ball-babys generally aren’t considered very intellectual. Hormonally it has just gotten worse with each child, and genetically I think was screwed from the beginning. I used to think it was just mom, but now I think that this is why my dad doesn’t speak publicly ‘cause he would just cry too. And folks, I am telling you it is humiliating enough for me.
But here’s the deal. I can’t shut up… and if I cry when I am joyful, sad, angry, fearful, deeply amused, frustrated, passionate, in large gatherings, when I’m nervous, in intimate groups, where I’m comfortable, when I talk to people I care about, when I talk to people I wish I knew better, etc., etc, I pretty much can’t communicate at all anymore… except through my blog. So thanks for reading – it seems to be the only way left for me to speak through my tears.
(P.S. I volunteered to ‘speak’ to the ladies of our church 2 weeks before I leave my home, friends, family, caretakers and confidants; in a room suffocating in estrogen. Sometimes the wretchedness of my own ideas amazes even me…)
(P.P.S. The hopelessness of the situation finally hit me last night in church when Jude’s little friend was collecting the offering and he dropped a few nickels in… and I started crying.)


Here are some photos I’d probably cry about if you were around….




Jarod swears a kid is going to loose a head sitting in his lap... but look at that smile






She's getting cuter... but I kinda' already miss her "lump with eyes" stage.





They're never gonna play ball in this yard again.... excuse me I need a moment






Tusha left for Honduras last week...







Dad returning safely from Indonesia after handing out of 20,000 Bibles, and his mother is still alive ... com'on you'd cry too... wouldn't you?

A day is as a thousand years

As with all things in life there is no debriefing time. As we started our return from NC we were informed that Grandma had fallen and broken her hip and was going into surgery. She made it out beautifully but now the long and painful process of recovering is underway. Made much more difficult by her dementia and fears that we are all poisoning her. So 3 of us are working in shifts...and I of course bring Lucy because I have to feed her... but actually she is the only thing that brings a smile to grandma's face.... and today she visited 2 other elderly people in recovery.
But this is my view... and I was thinking how fast each of my days go until I enter this room with the elderly and the babe.... to them each day is an eternity... one just waiting and wanting to die – and one oblivious to time as a whole.... I'm in a time warp but I am in the midst of the circle of life.

(This moment brought to you by Jarod's new laptop... I love being married to a nerd!)



These moments brought to you from NC... Aunt Teresa... I'll get all the photos in the mail as soon as I can. Is my cellphone charger at your house?

Things that make me smile tonight

Spider-man with Tinker-bell cousin.



Jarod’s pumpkin of the year… complex, ink-blotesque yes, but endearing


HINT:




A mass of pumpkin art from the youth group, ME girls and international students… only one injury in the whole night (and we told her not to use the butcher knife!!)



And finally 2 family pictures that were not a picnic to take but priceless none-the-less.




I’m off to N.C. to meet baby Wyatt….

See you next week

"My inbox is a toilet...

… and that’s why our country’s in the crapper.”

This is the first thought that flooded my half-conscience mind last week as I lay in bed watch Jarod complete his morning ‘informational-download’ ritual at the computer which sits at the end of our bed.
And here is why my inbox is a toilet. THE ELECTION. Now, don’t feel bad if you have sent me political propaganda over the last few months. I understand – it was necessary – you are passionate and that is admirable. And really, since I refuse to be involved in any proactive way I have placed myself in this sewage position.
But here is what I have concluded on this – the day I will vote. The election, my friends, is not about the candidates – it is about us. The thought that the act of voting is our highest responsibility as citizens of this globe is high on the laundry-list-of-lies that we the American people have bought into. This lie has bred, as far as I can tell, only three attitudes. Apathy, cynicism, and FEAR.
This is my pep-talk to myself against all three (because my schizophrenic self harbors them all) as I prepare to vote.

Apathy:
Timothy 2:1 I urge, then, first of all, that requests, prayers, intercession and thanksgiving be made for everyone- for kings and all those in authority, that we may live peaceful and quiet lives in all godliness and holiness.
I really have no right to complain about those in leadership because the amount of time I spend in prayer for them is PATHETIC. (Yes, even comparable to the sweet potatoes of last week!). Well, it is pretty hard to pray for people I know nothing about. I mean, sure I am spectator to as much mud slinging as everyone else –but I wouldn’t want people to pray for me based on biased gossip. As I was rousing myself from a long bout of political apathy I made a search for such nonpartisan information to which I met blank stares from those I asked and more cyber sewage. But alas I long for excuses and someone to blame for my disobedience and apathy.

Cynicism:
Daniel 2:21 He [God] changes times and seasons; he sets up kings and deposes them. He gives wisdom to the wise and knowledge to the discerning.
Even greater than my apathy for the political situation is my cynicism toward the entire system. I have a bad attitude. Yeah, that definitely drives the apathy. But this is ironic since I call myself a Christian. Christians are supposed to have HOPE, and as near as I can tell that is pretty antithetical to cynicism of a system that God is clearly going to work through to somehow bring about God’s glory and eternal good (no matter who wins.)

Fear:
1 Peter 3:13 Who is going to harm you if you are eager to do good? But even if you should suffer for what is right, you are blessed. "Do not fear what they fear; do not be frightened. "But in your hearts set apart Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect, keeping a clear conscience, so that those who speak maliciously against your good behavior in Christ may be ashamed of their slander. It is better, if it is God's will, to suffer for doing good than for doing evil. For Christ died for sins once for all, the righteous for the unrighteous, to bring you to God.

1 John 4:17-19 In this way, love is made complete among us so that we will have confidence on the day of judgment, because in this world we are like him. There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love.
We love because he first loved us.

Where’s the love? I don’t know… I ain’t feelin’ the love. Oh and Ooppppsss… nobody has been asking me lately to give a reason for my ‘hope’…. Maybe it is because I have been giving off that cynical-apathetic vibe … or maybe that fear vibe like every other person who speaks to me about this election. Here’s the deal folks, God isn’t asking me to have ‘hope’ in any candidate. He has already sent a Messiah and that Messiah is suppose to be working in ME. And He never works through fear or hatred… EVER. So I pretty much think we have sent D.C. up a creek without a paddle and they are going to be frozen in fear and hatred and won’t get anything done no matter who is elected. It matters today HOW I vote much more than WHO I vote for. And it matters much more what WE DO in the 1400 days after we elect our president than in the 4 minutes it takes to cast a ballet. We are much more free to BE THE CHANGE we want in this world than an entangled bought-out politician is. You want clean air? You want to save babies? You want global health care? You want to stop war? Don’t wait for D.C. to make it happen… they are so stuck in boxes that the organic matter of my brain is starting to feel like a cubist art form! I’ve got some ideas on how we all ought to make this stuff happen…. They are WAY out of the box…. Oh and I am way out of time.

But on a final note – there is no room for pride in a voting booth, so maybe we could all use a prayer like Daniel before we cast our ballets… because we all made this mess together. (Daniel 9:4-19)

Happy hopeful voting and I will see you on the other side … where the real change begins!

Oh and by the way... this campaign started before this kiddo was born...

and if we keep up this ridiculous rhetoric we are more likely to have a civil war by the time she graduates high school than we are to either overturn Roe V. Wade or have Universal health care.... sorry Kinzie

tagged

I was tagged by Alison … is this how it goes?

20 years ago I was in Kindergarten and had just met my lifelong friends Katie and Renee. My mother had to tell my teacher that it was fine for me to be left handed since she kept trying to make me switch. And I kissed a little boy with red hair named John.



10 years ago I was getting to know my husband… ok that is weird. People shouldn’t meet their husbands at 15 but I did. And I’m glad.





5 years ago I had been married and in Portland 2 years. It amazes me how quick Portland became our home… maybe the newly wed thing did it, or our amazing friends and school and church and millions of ministry opportunities or maybe we were from there in a different life… maybe we’ll go back there in a different life.




(oh yeah and 5 years ago we had JUST gotten back from the best vacation to Hawaii with my parents)



3 years ago today I was here in Bavaria.. don’t you wish you were me?

(Yes this is me hanging over a 200 foot cliff with a baby... not a good idea... won't happen with baby #2)



1 year ago today I think I had just found out I was pregnant… I don’t know, because I don’t journal… not even the important stuff and I have a retched memory, so a year ago toady I may or may not have know about Lucy. (I am really wishing my 90 some year old Aunt Iva had a blog so she could do this ‘cause she journals every day. EVERY DAY. And she has a better memory than me .


(oh, and apparently according to I-photo, a year ago today – Jarod carved this cool pumpkin of Jude and we were getting ready to go to the circus.. so much for Bavaria).



Yesterday I dug the most pathetic crop of sweet potatoes ever. Oh it was sad.


But I did pick these delicious things…. Again… Don’t you wish you were me?



I also watched my husband polish and drool over his motorcycle as he FINALLY placed the seat on it… I think we have a café racer folks.


Today I bathed. And that is good because, people, I was smelling a little ripe (I think from digging ALL those potatoes (or maybe from nursing… I think I smell worse when I am breastfeeding – is that possible?). Anyway, I bathed and shaved… while Jude was at music class with my mom (thanks mom). I also just let Lucy suck on my nose –which is gross for both of us – but somehow quite a bonding experience. Oh and I unwrapped the senior print order I got in the mail and I'm an awesome photographer or they are just good looking kids. Oh and I am also avoiding 5 loads of laundry and ignoring the spider-man in the living room playing trains.

Tomorrow hmmmm… well we will see, but the plan is to go to the library and then out to my parents and attempt to get my 92 year old Alzheimered grandmother into my car to go back to aunt and uncle’s house. Lord Jesus have mercy. Then we will attempt to take family pictures… so yeah, you can pray for me tomorrow… that would be good.

Next week I should probably winterize the garden and do something with 10,000 green tomatoes. I should organize and plan and contact people for our move. I should bath more frequently. I should pack for my trip to NC to see healthy baby Wyatt- yeah! I should update my blog heading to include my poor daughter. That is what I should do, but what I am sure I will do is play with trains, feed a baby, and do another 5 loads of laundry.

Next year… ok, now 10 years ago I would have had a huge list of ideas and goals. However, an unexpected husband, 2 unexpected children, unexpected daily experience in housewifery in Hays, Ks and a horribly unexpected pathetic crop of sweet potatoes has taught me to expect NOTHING. Because as soon as I tell you my plans for next year – they wouldn’t happen. But this I know. No matter where I am, no matter what I am doing, I am sure to be learning the lessons I need to learn, and I am sure to be with people God wants me to love. This is the definition of both sovereignty and grace.

I tag Jessica P. Sam R. and CA RN. Have fun…. (Oh and you don’t have to add pictures… I just happened to be going through old photos last week and thought it’d be fun... but it wasn't - it was miserable )