The Blue Horse:

Bare with me.

On Wednesday night I have the greatest group of prayer partners. They are all under 10 years old. I often have to explain what we are praying for and we do a lot of jumping, yelling and laughing during our prayers. They NEVER pray about stuff they don't care about. They don't care if they should care about it or if I have told them to pray about it 10 times. They always pray what they do care about – even if each other child has prayed for it. TWICE. They go ahead and cover it again. Cat health over presidential elections. This last Wednesday night I mentioned that a friend of mine was having trouble with schizophrenia and he really needed our prayers. Blank stares. Quick definition pulled out of my ear: When your brain tells you horrible lies again and again and you can't make it stop – like “nobody loves you, your life is terrible, people want to hurt you, God can't forgive you, and you should just die.” This prayer request got covered TWICE by EVERYBODY in our little circle. This is serious business – you know – when your brain gets out of control like that.

So last night our family was reviewing our verse for this year, “Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.” Phil 4:8.

Jarod pulled out the command: Do NOT think about a blue horse. Immediately Jude began to giggle. Then Jarod said it again and Jude got very serious for three seconds and then began to giggle. Jarod asked what he was thinking about and Jude totally shocked said, “A blue horse. I CAN'T stop thinking about it.” Three minutes this went on – him trying to control his mind as Jarod told him to STOP thinking about it. Our 7 year old came to the stark realization that you can not focus on NOT focusing on something and was a ASTONISHED by this truth. Few moments are as rewarding in parenthood as when you see your small child grasp a large truth. We began to focus on thinking about a sunset (all-be-it a blue horse galloped across it at first.)

February 2011 Andrea challenged me to write down 1000 things I was grateful for. I finished this morning. It shouldn't have taken 2 years. (Especially since I wrote the last 46 this morning in 12 minutes.) But you see... I spend a lot of time listening to the blue horses in my head and then focusing on NOT thinking about the blue horses. I forget to focus on the fullness of the sunset – I forget the truths – I forget to take time to count. I'm a little spiritually mentally ill. A little bit of a child. I am thankful that the mentally ill and the children are willing to teach me. These things need double prayer to heal. SO I'll keep counting...

P.S. Jessice Poundstone – the big black blank book gifted to me over 8 years ago. It is full. Thank you for having faith that God would fill my life with thoughts for that great blankness that sat in front of me. 

It Takes a Bucket of Salt

So a modern virtue – only to be rivaled in popularity by tolerance – is diversity. This week FHSU will have it's annual “Celebration of Diversity” - which in actuality is nothing more than Chinese New Year celebrated on the High Plains. Now don't get me wrong, I love this celebration and I love that Hays now has Chinese people to put it together – it's all very marvelous.

However, I think if we re going to tout “diversity” as a virtue, we need to recognize the degrees of diversity which may or may not exist in our lives. Going to a Celebration of Diversity is embracing diversity about as much as a 3^rd grader passing out an “I love you” sweet-tart is exemplifying love. Eating Sushi and Gumbo do not make us cultured individuals anymore than a mouse in a cookie jar makes him a cookie. Same goes for loving “cute little African babies” or marching for some under-served, marginalized, or neglected group of persons. Marching is good. Also I love babies with wacky hair – of all races.

However, I have been thinking so much lately about how these warm-fuzzy-feeling demonstrations of our “diversity” virtue may be a nice cover up for the true virtue that is much more difficult to embrace.

Because here is the thing. Actually adhering to a virtue – I find – seldom makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside. Mostly it makes me cry. Mostly, I am CHANGED by the virtue to which I adhere... (adhere – like glue – like stick myself to it and then hold on for the ride.) I think God is all about diversity because it HUMBLES us. (Well, that and because He talks about it a lot in the Bible – in ways that make people feel REALLY uncomfortable.) Other people may be changed by marches, donations to causes, demonstrations of culture, etc, etc. But I am changed when I asked people VERY different from me INTO my life. Like to participate with me in education, work, family, and cooking. Really – especially with cooking – and recycling – and grocery shopping. It gets tricky.

Because people who are DIFFERENT from us DO things DIFFERENT – THAN us. It's profound. I know. And when they spend their money or time differently than everyone else we know (including ourselves) it removes a blind spot – it removes a, “That's how it's always been done.” And eventually – all these blind spots are opened and you experience disequilibrium because all this time you thought there was only one way to eat a grape and one way to use the restroom. But then you find out you are wrong. And then you cry. And then those other people who are being diverse with you cry. And then you tell each other all of the millions of things that you see each other doing every single day. And it hurts.

It hurts to have someone point out how you waste perfectly good pineapple cores and your kids dump milk out EVERY SINGLE DAY, and you probably shouldn't have waxed your eyebrows that way, and you really could eat healthier, and you really could be more intelligent in your uses of modern technology, and, and, and....

And then you realize that the reason people only SAY they like diversity but avoid people of different age groups, disabilities, religions, economic status, childhoods, education, political thinking, race, and personality type – is because it is honestly VERY uncomfortable for the status quo.

Every word and action of those VASTLY different from us must not be taken with a grain of salt but with a whole bucket. I dump buckets of salt on myself every night when I go to bed. It is called grace and it's called prayer, and this is how the bucket goes,

“Wow God, a lot of crazy stuff went down today. I said a lot of stupid things. I did a lot of stupid things. Some pretty amazing people in my life called me out on a lot of them. Thank you for that. Please give other people the grace to hear the heart behind all that I say and do. Please give me the grace to do the same. Thank you for revealing new blind spots in my life... give me the courage to change based on the new info. Thank you for this salt to heal the wounds... but ummm... it's kinda slow – old-school medicine. Could we try something a bit quicker? Just a thought.”

So – do not fear the diversity... just make sure you have plenty of salt.

Also, I recognize the irony that I am writing this in Hays, Ks.

You need not point it out.

Because I will forget...

My children – the men – the students. They say a million hilarious things each day. And I swear I won't forget. But I will. I do. And I don't take time to write them down. Our lives are so full of material for a book or a sit-com or random reality TV. I never watch TV because my life is better. But sometimes I stare at my kids and think, “Were you really smaller than this?” I don't remember.

Yesterday Jude ran into his “wiggles” teacher from our life before. Before Honduras, when he was two, and we went to Hays Rec center twice a week – just he and I. And he said, “at first I didn't remember her... but then I remembered that balance beam. I LOVED the balance beam.” He did? Good to know.

And then after dropping Maysyn and Lucy off at ballet at Hays Rec I took Jude to Aikido just a few blocks from our house. When getting out of the car he said, “I'll just walk home.” And he did. By himself. And I went home. By myself. Turned on some music and finished the laundry and started dinner, and thought, “Soon they won't need me.”

Well, what do you know? That 8 years went quick.

Soon I won't be giving them rushed baths 1 hour after bedtime with naked Lucy singing in my exhausted face, “Two children are a BL-E-SS-IINNNGGGG.” An out-of-no-where reminder that she apparently saw I needed.

Soon the three of them won't be serenading us before dinner with Martin Luther King's “Free at last” - complete with harmonic solo. And Lucy will move past her after-dinner international concerts and “ballon Korean dance.” They won't do “gungnam style” 50 times a day. At random. In the grocery store.

Soon they will realize that EVERYONE in the olympic swimming pool is starting at them as the waddle from one end to the other in the flippers, goggles, and foam weights they just scored in the supply closet. It took 3 whole minutes for the oblivious parade to finally get in the water. And we will have to teach Lucy that she doesn't need to “wiggle her booty” with every jump off the diving board.

They probably won't be as fascinated with the grass-hair they planted in a head-pot with Grammee. Meaning they will only check it twice a day like I do – instead of 15.

Lucy will someday develop tact and stop telling her Grammee that her face skin, “is just so shriveled” - unless of course these Chinese girls rub off on her too much... then she'll say such lovely things into her 30's.

And of course, how could I forget (But I am sure I will) that when Jude received 5 semester-end awards and we sheepishly complimented him asking, “Did you get every award available?” His reply was that, “No, everyone received at least one award.” Puzzled, we asked what they were. Half-embarrassed he tilted his head and said, “Honestly – I think they just look at some kids and think, 'What can they do?' - then they make that award.... 'Like, best smile.'” YIKES. He figured it out. When I told his teacher that perhaps, we were dealing with a bit of a strange kid – who might be too perceptive and blunt for his own good – she just stared at me and said, “Oh – I know. Yesterday when we were counting money he said, “Oh good – counting money. I'm so good at that. Someday I am going to be a banker, get rich and - ALL the POWER will go to my head.” Really? What do I do with these comments? And what do we do when he is old enough to know he should say them but still harbors them in his heart?

Someday it won't be impressive when Jude read's us 10 minutes from his Bible and I won't get excited when Lucy can actually open her school door by herself. (Right now I am still clapping for both.)

Yesterday, I got a good chuckle when I noticed that in 7 days of laundry Lucy managed to only have 3 pairs of underwear. Maybe we aren't ready to be dressing ourselves yet. Which I also should have picked up on by the eternally wrong-footed shoes, backwards shirts, and pants that still have store tags on them. All of which walk into school each day bouncing below the disheveled hair... me thinking, “bless her heart.. she just can't pull herself together... and I OBVIOUSLY have NOTHING to offer in this area.”

Someday soon they will quit acting out every movie they see – distributing lines and practicing accents. In the meantime I will try to hide my amusement as they say such lovely things as, “I'll give you to the count of ten to get your yellow-bellied Kester off my property...” followed by machine gun noises. My parenting just didn't turn out how I thought it would. Honestly.

And as I come to the realization that my “mother of preschoolers” 8 year season will come to an end in less than 8 months I find myself giggling over something John said yesterday in a meeting...

After his months of fits, tantrums, being fired for NEVER doing what he is told, regressing in drooling and table manners since my mom left the dinner table, 10 times a day telling Jarod and I that he is “going to report us,” falling down intentionally to try to get bruises that he can report, calling us bad names, walking off, and being a general pain in the neck for months on end – he was asked by his caseworker:

“How much do you like where you live and work?”

Very much

much

some

a little

or not at all

He wanted to just circle “VERY MUCH” and be done with it. SERIOUSLY???? VERY MUCH, John? Since when? Why don't you act like it??!! At least 10 minute a day - act like you like this place VERY MUCH!!!

And then he smiles and his teeth fall out and he says, “Weeeellllll, you're all right.”

And I giggle inside as I think, “Very much.” I like where I live and where I work OH SO VERY MUCH. These last eight years that are coming to an end... as my kids walk off on there own to school, library, Aikido, and pool. I liked them very much. I circle “very much.”

And to my friends who still haven't pottied in private or slept through a night, or finished a meal without climbing under the table to wipe up something for what seems like YOUR WHOLE LIFE. Someday you will probably circle VERY MUCH. Thank you for doing this season with me.

And to my husband who has allowed me to live these 8 years at home (babe, I really was at home some) – thank you for giving me this season. I liked it VERY MUCH. (I know, sometimes it WAS hard to tell.)

And to you Jesus, I'm sorry about the way John and I behave... we are a bit handicapped you know. We really do like this life VERY MUCH.

… but I MIGHT forget...

... also, there are no photos because my I-phone, I-photo, and other "I things" do not like me "VERY MUCH" - but you really can't blame them... I'm an idiot.  And Jarod is too busy and important to be bothered with this :).  

Editor's Commentary

Jarod is posting our “2012” year video to facebook. 1 minute for every month. We have been doing this for 8 years. I dreaded doing it this year because – to be honest – it hasn't been my favorite year. I was NOT the director – nor am I ever (which can seriously get me bummed sometimes). Just the editor. And as the editor - I have a few comments as you watch our life unfold.

1. The first picture in the video is a photo I took years ago of my cousin Nic planting a flower with his mom. The song I chose is one that I have looped in my van and my brain since Jan. 2nd when He died. We read this quote last night and it reminded us of our inner dealings as we sat and stared at the year on a timeline,“Optimism and Hope are radically different attitudes. Optimism is the expectation that things – weather, human relationships, the economy, the political situation, and so on – will get better. Hope is the trust that God will fulfill God's promises to us in a way that leads us to true freedom. The optimist speaks about concrete changes in the future. The person of Hope lives in the moment with the knowledge and trust that all of life is in good hands.” - Henri Nouwen
2. As Jarod and I failed so many times and ways in our lives with international students, our family, and Bethesda this year, it was easy to feel overwhelmed. But as I looked at the fullness of our lives, I was reminded of what my cousin Jeff always said when I was learning to water ski “like a man.” He said, “When you stop falling you know you are done learning.” At 30 my goal in water skiing is now NOT to fall – not to improve. I hope we never get to that point in life. In Christ we are righteous, therefore Prov 24: 16 applies, “for though the righteous fall seven times, they rise again.” We have fallen SO MUCH this year... we have to have learned a TON.
3. International friends take more pictures than our American friends. Our white friends matter – and 2013 will contain a photo shoot of them. Also, my mom is getting crazy good with her I-pad so I think I'm covered.
4. Jude's imaginative obsession moved from Star Wars to Indian Jones to The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings this year. Praise be to God and Jude's father that we are finally into some literature that we can parent from. (Not to say we didn't have a million 'dark side' conversations.)
5. Finally, I am a little bit of a legalist which means: I will do this video thing every year – no matter what. 2. Because it is so beneficial to us to sit and contemplate our year I think every set of parents should be forced to make one. :) I'd love to see yours.
   
   
   So, “here is to Hope in 2013”... but mostly - here's to the Lord Jesus Christ who makes hope possible... 
   
   
   P.S.  I HATE "Gungnam style" but it is sadly a huge part of our lives right now.

Monday blogs

I miss doing my Monday blogs. Scratch that. I miss having DONE my Monday blogs. They may be lame - but consider it my first draft. Anne Lamott says they get to be - so there.
I am going to fix my face this year. All Asian women who have ever lived in my house will be Relieved! Apparently it has kept them up at night- trying to fix my complexion. It's totally acceptable in Asian culture to make NASTY comments about one's face. Think of it as constructive criticism. It is also advisable to comment on weight gain every .5 lbs. I know - LOVELY. But hey, they are thinner than us and with better complexion. I swear though it is just genetics - so here's to a year's investment to see if I can fix this white girl face.

Other note I would like to make today: the best thing I do as a mom is have bags. I have this one bag by the back door that alternates between swim wear and snow suits- sand toys and craft supplies. It's always there. And then there is the snack bag and the grocery bags and the bags of egg cartons and the things that need to go back to mom. By the front door there are the Maysyn bags and the stuff to Joan bags. The food for friends bags and the bags of packages and letters that go to students and students cousins and sometimes students-cousins-friends. And I use to hate all these bags. But not this year - this year I'm gonna learn to love my bags- just not the ones under my eyes ... Those apparently - have got to GO. I wonder if they make an invisible cream that I could spread on all my other bags? Probably not because then I'd use it on my piles of laundry... And invisible clothing would NOT be good...

See why they don't recommend making stream-of-conscience writing public?

The Lottery

When Jarod and I were in college. We played the lottery. Not often. Maybe twice. Only when the pot was over two hundred million. Every Saturday night after our shift at the coffee shop (when our week had been too long, night too late, and we were pumped full of coffee and sugar) we would drive by the billboard with our “megabucks” pot info. And we'd talk about it all the way home. And then – when it was over 150 million we would write down a list of what we would do with the money. Because here's my thinking – You don't want to win the lottery UNPREPARED. So when we bought our tickets it was with itemized list in hand (adjusted of course for tax – leaving us with $74 million). Every single dollar was planned out and we could not deviate because there could be nothing worse than letting good fortune ruin a perfectly average life. I'm that practical.

Yesterday, I spent the second day of 2013 cleaning out the 35 year untouched attic of Bethesda Place. I had dirty dusty David by my side and the youth of Bethesda's next door neighbor, Mary, pushing all the way. It was a beautifully productive time and we found literally THOUSANDS of mason jars and THOUSANDS of empty wood boxes. There are parts for 20 broken wooden chairs and enough nails to build another house – and the story – in pieces -of the hundreds of projects the men have tried over the years. And I just kept thinking: What do you do with Mason jars, empty boxes, six handicapped guys and the girl from next door?

What do you do with Mason jars, empty boxes, six handicapped guys and the girl from next door?

We have some trees too. Thousands.
And garden hoses... other hoses too... lots of hoses. And pipe.
We have bows and arrows and BB guns.  Magnetic fishing game poles.

And good health. Other than the 3 weeks of winter illnesses that cycle through. We have unbelievably good health.

We have the collective knowledge of my parents – who survived 42 years of marriage and 32 years at Bethesda against all odds. We have them to draw on.

We have two random (quirky) men who are willing to help us keep the guys happy and healthy.

We have a childhood friend who is in this thing for the long haul.

And the kids. They crack us up. They are always good for a laugh.

And of course the students – we learn something new every day. Some days – more than one thing. But those days can be a bit much.

And we have each other. And the handicapped guys are really the best in the world. Really.

SO... What do you do with A LOT of mason jars, empty boxes, six handicapped guys and the girl from next door?

I won this lottery. It's amazing.

And I am totally unprepared.

But I promise Nic... we are going to do something cool.

 I know you would have. 

Made for January

And He has said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness.” Most gladly, therefore, I will rather boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me. 2 Corinthians 12:9

(contemplations from 5 hours shopping)

I wish I were my mother during the month of December. She was made for December. She thinks and breaths gift giving and sale shopping. She thrives on chaos and her idea of a perfect week has between 3-5 special social gatherings. It is a bonus to her if she has to plan, decorate and cook for each one. The adrenaline rush that comes from tabulating schedules and gifts bathes her brain in fresh oxygen. She has an ongoing mental list of all the people for whom she wants to say and do kind things. She knows who will get a Christmas card and lovely basket of goodies. I want to be that person.

But I'm not. I am made for January (and possibly June). The months AFTER the bigs months. The months where there is nothing to take pictures of and the only events are ones we invent to fill the empty weekends. The months full of reflection – and either warm fires or watching grass grow.

When I was a child I said I HATED Christmas. I didn't. I hated the fact that I wasn't made for Christmas. I thought everything going on was splendid, it was just too much for me and I resented that. I resented the fact that “hubbub” made my skin crawl. This year my skin is crawling but I am learning to embrace that. I am learning to love the fact that I was not made for this month but I have to do it anyway. I don't have to do it well. I will never be the gift giver, card sender, sale shopper, decorate or thoughtful friend that my mom is. And that is ok. I just have to do it with grace. My only goal is to do my best and not threaten to kill anyone. I just have to fill the cart and NOT run over the old lady. I just have to wrap the gift – not prettily – but remember who it goes to. And I have to laugh. A lot.

I have to watch December people enjoy their month, and find joy in their joy. I have to do December – because December people have to do January and June. And they will learn to do it with grace – and I will be able to stand beside them and say, “I know how you feel – we each have our moments.” And I am learning to be glad we all have different moments. Different months. I am glad I don't get out of December – I think it is making me a better person... a person who humbly says, “Yes it was a very nice December – even though: I forgot my husband's birthday twice (don't ask), spent too much on not-thoughtful-enough-gifts, ate foods that I never should have even SEEN and forgot my best friends when sending out Christmas cards.” I did my best – to give the best Christmas experience possible to those around me... and it was good enough because the BEST CHRISTMAS is freely available to whoever so would have Him. Merry Christmas.

In retrospect - I love the busy months.  Like November. I loved it.

Jessie came home for a visit.

Carhendge.  American road trip - for SURE.

And we didn't run out of gas in the badlands.

That's good.

ALMOST running out of gas in the badlands DIDN'T seem awesome at the moment.

Kind of like Christmas shopping.

I wish someone would have taken my picture today.

P.S. Husband - Happy Birthday.  Maybe we should try moving our birthdays again to June.  

I like June.

And I love you... even in December.  

And I am glad your mom is around to make German Chocolate cake. :)