Fresh Thoughts on Christmas

Yesterday, our staff team took off to paint the first new house of our newest staff couple, covering up the bright reds, blues, yellows and greens to make it their own. I ended up in the living room painting edges while the new owner came behind me with the roller. In the course of conversation, he began recounting his conservative heritage and his school memories of homeschooling with the Bill Gothard curriculum. He continued on to their leadership training with its unique character building program, which took him all over the world. Applying taupe paint over gold, we discussed the pros and cons.

Our conversation only added to my already turning brain about acceptance of unique approaches to our faith. We go to a great church where one of the hallmarks is that, while tenaciously holding to the Word of God, respect for differences of opinions on how the spiritual life is displayed and worked out in each life exists. (I Corinthians 14 discussed yesterday—who really has the definitive answers?) Even on our own very unified and loving team, we have differences of backgrounds and opinions on the finer points.

Just as Bill Gothard may not have gotten it all right, neither did St. Patrick with his interesting life with the Druids, Madame Guyon with her strange physical self-denial, St. Augustine with his Just War Theory, Shane Claiborne denouncing that theory today in light of the Simple Way, our very own forefather the devout Puritan Samuel Sewall with his office of presiding over the Salem Witch Trials, Martin Luther with his transubstantiation—so many more colorful characters like Jerry Falwell and Martin Luther King we have known in our lifetimes.

Include some Christians you know personally outside your own worldview. God likely has used each to lead many to the truth and it is 100% up to Him to take what He wants and vaporize (at least) the rest of it. He wants all of it He can to take into eternity with Him.

The bride of Christ will be an incomprehensibly beautiful mosaic of the best of each heartfelt view with all the quirks refined and burned out. That is why we do what we do as a team of mobilizers—there are yet colorful lives in every pocket of the world who, when they finally do embrace the gospel, will add their own still different and unique quality to the radiant church bride. Yes, there will be more strange customs and thoughts tainted by the world of injustice each one may have grown up with, but the Christ in Each of Them, the hope of glory, will be added to His complex, mysterious, dazzling, soon-to-be-revealed Bride fit for a Groom of Perfection.

That is what we celebrate at Christmas. Enjoy yours with a new expectation of what it will one day be like to share the Spirit in all of us as One!

It's Not So Bad

I love those people who say the glass is half full!

I ran across this article and he has many a good point. Here is his take on the Ten Blessings of a Recession:
1. More familes eating dinner together
2. Shorter gas lines
3. Less junk mail
4. More coupons
5. Free fitness - more walking and biking
6. Bargain SUV's
7. More entrepreneurial startups
8. Growth in the popularity of gardening and growing your own food
9. Musical inspiration - more heartfelt anthems
10. New perspectives - reflect and reassess the true meaning and goals of our lives

Read it for yourself at http://www.bankrate.com/bos/news/pf/20080625_reasons_love_recession_a3.asp

Intensely Happy

Not prone to introspection, this was an interesting weekend that ran the gamut of emotion. After two staff dinners at our house, an unexpected thaw of our freezer requiring “cook it or lose it”, a new project at work, and late night sessions watching the Olympics, my energy level was low. Still, I wanted to join in the Welcome Dinners for new international students by hosting them for dinner Saturday night. We also had an offer to join our old dinner group in Little Rock for Freddy’s famous fish fry, and that sounded really exciting to our sometimes homesick hearts. What to do?

GUILT: As is sometimes the case for us, who like to keep our options open, the options expired without taking action. First, the LR trip was checked off, then the Welcome Dinner. The consolation was that with forecast of rain, we could just stick around and work on our projects. I don’t usually work on Fridays, but last Friday was spent at the office until later than usual and I ended up sleeping on the couch during the coverage of Day 7 then sleepily slipping off to bed—no projects yet. Saturday morning, I got up early to wrap a birthday present for Tozer’s Birthday Party #2 and I was glad we could be in town for that.

FEAR: While wrapping the little package, though, an alarming thought gripped me with fear. “Where are those two (sizable) checks I swept up and stuck somewhere when cleaning up the house last Thursday?” A quick look around in the usual hiding places yielded no results and my anxiety level cranked up a notch or two, but I was due to pick Liz up for the party. I kept telling myself it didn’t make that much difference, but that occasional fear that is not only in your head and heart but also moves down to your stomach was taking hold.

DISCOURAGEMENT: Here it was already Saturday approaching noon, we had missed the opportunity to go home in order to stay home and catch up, but now I was doomed to scouring the house for the missing checks. What do John and Gloria do in circumstances such as these? We took off for an outing to the A-Z store in Alma (45 miles) for an afternoon adventure to get our minds off of the lost checks.

ANXIETY: “Should we try to get back and help our friends now with their international dinner?”
occasionally checking my watch. Another expired option—pizza special picked up from Papa Murphy’s—more watching of the Olympics with one sleepy eye open (still no projects).

ELATION: In the middle of the night, I woke up and passionately asked God to remove the distraction of the lost checks and bring to mind where they might be. (I had tried this to no avail earlier in the day.) In a few minutes, after “walking backwards in my mind” as I used to remind our guys, the thought came to me that I had put an open shoebox on the floor by my bed, so in the dark, I reached over there and immediately put my hand on the blessed box. A quiet trip to the front room confirmed that the missing checks had been there all along, so it was easy to go back to sleep.

MORE FEELING A LITTLE GUILTY: Sunday morning, John’s ongoing sinus congestions was really bothering him. We were on the schedule to greet at church, so we took our positions at the door and decided to sit on the bleachers at the side since he was afraid he might need to get up and leave. Halfway through, we decided he would be better off in the open air (always the case) and on the way out decided we ought to try to redeem the weekend by going on a Sunday afternoon outing to check out the fishing spots he knew about and try to discover new ones. Lee’s short message (to be followed by an interactive activity) was on the Beattitudes, saying “blessed” means “intensely happy”. Being a good Perspectives graduate, I know we are blessed to be a blessing, but “intensely happy” seemed a bit illusive.
INTENSELY HAPPY: The trip to Beaver Dam proved to be just that kind of experience. The weather was near a perfect 10. We sat and listened to the horn blast and watched the water start to flow and felt the cool air moving up toward us. We finished off our picnic on the rocks, laughed at Zipper doing his cute things, and took a few crazy pictures. On the way back through Eureka Springs, we stopped off at Thorncrown Chapel and took more pictures to send to Easton for his “forget me not” book with the chapel in the background. Two often unphotogenic people actually produced some great pictures in the idealic setting. We returned, energized by the day and actually set out to paint the garden benches, clean the grill and do other outside projects.

DISAPPOINTMENT: Downloading the pictures on to the computer is something I’ve never felt very confident in doing, but I wanted to surprise John and do it without asking for help. I’ll spare the details, but—long story short—I forgot to save them and uncharacteristically erased them from the camera. My dear persevering husband spent a very long time trying to retrieve them, but the images were as fleeting as the happiness of the day. After the up and down experiences of the weekend, it was quite a blow to both of us.

So…we both seemed to be processing hard the state of blessedness. This is the life laboratory where it is mixed and the holy compound is produced. I want to record this to recall later because—like fish caught below the dam--we tend to remember the big events but the little ones get away, even though they are daily building blocks of discovering the sufficiency of transformed thinking. Placing lost checks and pictures on the grid of the constancy of the joy of walking in the light is the essence of walking in the Spirit. Monday morning, we find we are a little stronger in our resolve to walk by faith, a little more familiar with our heavenly Father, with a little more insight into how blessing overflows in the most unexpected places.

Thinking about June

Staying close to home is more fun sometimes that going somewhere. This week, we've been remembering why we love Northwest Arkansas so much. Thursday night was a concert at Gulley Park, Friday night was a cookout with some of the staff here, and yesterday we drove over to Eureka Springs for the afternoon. But we've had a busy June and it's fun to remember it. Mike and Susan dropped in to help us celebrate John's birthday.

Tisha and Tozer--the next generation of Kingdom builders at our big National Conference in Dallas.

Amazing Dr. Winter--still looking forward after 35 years of Perspectives.

The "War Room"

It was fun to unite Pasadena and Northwest Arkansas USCWM staff.

Liz and Gloria--the hospitality committee

JP--my boss!

Sussi and her control central team

Kevin, our friend of many years in Little Rock, is helping bring Perspectives to Brazil

Dinner with John's brothers Bryant and Ed and wives at Spring Creek Barbeque on our way out of town.

As Good as it Gets

Normally, I catch up from the weekend on Mondays, but I have a new bullet in my job description--getting out a resource newsletter to Perspectives alumnae. What looked like a short hour or two turned into an afternoon at our office, but it is a joy-filled task and I was well aware that God had given me a great privilege. I went home and cooked the corn on the cob and tomato wraps that we had bought at a roadside vendor we just discovered, right on Crossover by our house. Life is good.

It was beautiful and cool so I went out to do a little painting and ended up priming two garden benches that had weathered over the winter. Then the phone rang. It was Evan, husband of Emily and father of our dear Ella and Easton. John pretty much did the talking as I painted but I noticed my heart kind of sinking as they talked. As much as I love what we are doing right now, there is always that ache that there are grandkids a 15-hour drive away that I would love to be taking to the park, reading to, treating to McDonald's for breakfast, having puppet shows with, playing dress up with. The threatening cloud of dispair over my head turned into a full-fledged rainstorm when I came in, checked e-mail and found out about Carolyn, free of cancer for 16 years, but now faced with it again.

Just what kind of Christianity am I on a team trying to export around the world anyway? If it isn't able to fill the gaping holes of "heart hurt"--whether it's serious like starvation in a world far away or life-threatening anywhere or loneliness and disappointment--what good is it? He tells me to test me in this and see what I will do. I'm stepping out on what looks like thin air and you are the solid rock, suddenly materializing. It's good--and--it's worth exporting.

Our Cambodian Adventure

John and I just returned from two wonderful weeks in Cambodia with Hayden. One day from my journal captures the essence of the whole experience, I think. Write me at glomom@aristotle.net if you'd like to suffer through the whole account.

Sunday, May 18:
We were up early again, expecting Vonnie, Hayden’s old roommate to pick us up at 7. It was more like 7:45 after having picked up a niece and nephew (or cousins?) spending the day with him. We headed off to his village for church (Baptist), not too far out of town. We were a little late, but they graciously brought us chairs and water. At the end, they brought out some cookies for the congregation. Hayden said snacks were traditional and he added some bananas and other unidentifiable fruit to the table which was quickly snapped up.

Someone announced that those involved in the movie to be made (teaching Cambodian to tell Bible stories, effective in a Buddhist culture) should come to Vonnie’s house so when we got there in Vonnie’s brother’s borrowed Toyota, there was already a crowd. We had to wait a while until Tharit (Samuel) and David showed up. I pulled out some Kissable candies and put them on the table and they looked at them rather warily and a few disappeared. They said our food was too strange for them. Vonnie’s father was sitting at the table reading Hayden’s Cambodian Bible and later set the candies on the Bible and carried them into the house. Tired of waiting, the guys put on the costumes and they went ahead with the scene where Samuel chooses David out of a lineup of brothers.

More cell phone conversations, more confusion as to where to meet Tharit. So in the time we drove back up to the church to meet Tharit, he had arrived with his church van (rented from the church rather than a company so they could receive the $60 rental instead) and picked up all the guys (not the plan, but who wants to tell them they can’t come now? Not Hayden). By this time, it’s getting close to lunch, so both loaded cars head up the road. This mission requires sheep, almost non-existent in Cambodia but Tharit had managed to locate some dark rough-looking ones that—for the world—looked like they belonged in David’s world. The decision is made to stop for lunch, as it’s still an hour’s drive away to the sheep. The restaurant is a big open-air affair with large tables that everyone sits around on cross-legged. Hayden orders 4 dishes for the group, but the waiters see a chance to increase the income from this large group and brings out 13 dishes. Tharit and Hayden go and complain but the damage is done and the movie budget for the day has been increased substantially. I couldn’t eat anything but the rice, but these young guys seemed to think this soup with bugs in it (really!) was great.

Without any thank-you’s for the budget-breaker lunch, we loaded up again, and eventually pulled off the roadside at a non-descript little spot where they spilled out again and ran down to the muddy flowing river. We waited for a boat to cross and ferry us back to the island, inhabited mostly by widows. We noticed the boat was taking in water and were relieved to get to the island where everyone disembarked. In the typical unorganized Cambodian way, the scene was shot and the sheep cooperated beautifully. Afterwards, Tharit told us this had been a killing field and took us across the field to look in a shed where he said the bones had been gathered but someone had buried them. No one, obviously, had baled water out of the boat, so still taking it in, we arrived at the other side and, paid up, Tharit returned the vanload of boys back to the village. We were becoming hopeful that we would be returned ourselves.

Vonnie, though, thought it seemed normal for Hayden and his parents to participate in the customary Sunday afternoon visiting of each other’s houses. Vehicles used to haul things during the week were loaded today with people riding around from place to place. We stopped at a relative’s house, thinking it was where the niece and nephew lived, but they got out and played while we sat on the table in front of their house, not talking, just drinking the water they had offered us. We walked down to the river behind their house then Hayden suggested it was time to move on. One more stop was in order and this time it was where the children lived, but we still accepted another bottle of water and visited best we could. Hayden ran back over to the office and returned with spicy tuna and bread and we all collapsed. I told John while we were sitting at Vonnie’s that I felt like I might as well be in outer space, the whole thing was so surreal and I think we will always refer to Sunday as our alien adventure.

I Scream, You Scream, We All Scream...

According to that great American poetry, we all scream for ice cream! This weekend, we had a staff retreat at Silver Dollar City, ate at Fuddrucker's across the street from the hotel, and then mosied over to Cold Stone Creamery afterwards on the other side of the parking lot. At CSC, if you want just a taste, order the "Like It". If that doesn't seem adequate, order "Love It". But if you want the mother lode of that frozen delight, go for the "Gotta Have It"! If life is an ice cream parlor, why do I always order "Like It"? Provider of All Life's Delights, increase my appetite for all you have, mixed with all the add in's. I want to feel like I "gotta have it".

Connoisseurs

Since we have moved to Fayetteville, we are amazed at how the junk mail producers have found us up here. In today's mail, John received a free year reservation card from a magazine called Robb Report, subtitled "for the luxury lifestyle" for a mere $65, $153 off the newstand price. This is very interesting, considering we are doing anything but pursuing a "luxury lifestyle" up here at the USCWM. Better check that target market, Robb.

It clearly states "It's a state of mind. A way of life. An attitude. It's nothing but the best." The little enclosure for hesitant recipients--they all have these, I know; I was a marketing major--says "Why you?" They think John is "someone with sophistication, style, and a self-assured sense of the finer things in life" (meaning yachts, Chateau Haut-Brion 2002, Matasa cigars, Patek Philippe Swiss watches, Lamborghini's $1.5 million Super Coupe,...). They think John is "a connoisseur of life's rewards". That one hit me--if they only knew what a connoisseur he is, well versed on the glories yet to be revealed. He knows exactly where life's rewards are and I'm guessing they're not found in the pages of Robb Report.

Clouds, smartwater, and other pure thoughts

I'm not really sure why certain shapes appeal to your sense of design more than others, but the Glaceau smartwater bottles are irresistable to this normally sales-resistant Scotch soul of mine. Coming back from a recent trip, I made my purchase at the Shell station and was dreamily watching the billowy clouds out the window in the passenger seat as we slid down I40 (sheer contentment!) and casually read the copy on the back: "Is it just us or do clouds get a bad rap? while we admit they're not as great to have around on a beach day, as say, the sun, clouds are unsung heroes because they contain nature's purest source of water...".

My mind drifted to Joni Mitchell's song, "I've looked at clouds from both sides now..." then to riding in the window seat of an airliner, dreaming about walking on the clouds, thinking how God looks down on the earth... I'm back home on a dreary rainy day, and when I got ready to write about this, I looked up the lyrics for that song--what a depressing song!

"Bows and flows of angel hair and ice cream castles in the airAnd feather canyons everywhere, i've looked at cloud that way.But now they only block the sun, they rain and snow on everyone.So many things i would have done but clouds got in my way...."

"Moons and junes and ferris wheels, the dizzy dancing way you feelAs every fairy tale comes real; i've looked at love that way.But now it's just another show. you leave 'em laughing when you goAnd if you care, don't let them know, don't give yourself away."

"Tears and fears and feeling proud to say "i love you" right out loud,Dreams and schemes and circus crowds, i've looked at life that way.But now old friends are acting strange, they shake their heads, they sayI've changed.Something's lost but something's gained in living every day."

Joni, I wish I could sit down with you and give you a better perspective. There is much to be gained in living every day, knowing that the reality is the sun that is always there, regardless of the clouds we see. Enjoy the "angel hair and feather canyons"! Walking by faith and not by sight gives us "x-ray vision" to see beyond and REALLY KNOW the One who spoke it all into existence, the One who is preparing a place for us--all paradise, no clouds.

PHD in Passion and Vision

I read in the morning meeting notes from Pasadena that yesterday was the 40th anniversary of the death of Martin Luther King. That brought a marker to the forefront of my mind of the day I heard about this. It's one of those dates that remind you exactly where you were at the time; for me, it was a night in Room 408 of Hotz Hall at the University of Arkansas, reading an English assignment, In Cold Blood by Truman Capote. Those were dark days of campus unrest and pessimism, largely due to the Vietnam War and a groundswell of cultural decline. I had wanted to major in art, but my family insisted that I go the business route so my upbringing and my personality allowed me to produce excellent grades as a Marketing major and acquire a BSBA but not with a lot of heart. In fact, there's not much from my college academic education that prepared me for anything I have done in my life--at least, so far. Furthermore, all of our lives and our daily education has been tainted by the likes of Ophah--not good--see http://youtube.com/watch?v=JW4LLwkgmqA.

USCWM. FMF. PSP. PCW. Everything has letters in our office. There is a move afoot to train new class coordinators in a greatly improved way (PCW)--not just how to fill out forms and conduct the class but to do all these things with passion and vision. I caught myself yesterday with my elbow on my desk and my chin in my hand, staring beyond the notes on my computer screen, thinking how every avenue of our education, unlike my college experience, should teach you how to walk through the motions but always with the ultimate goal of passion and vision.

One of the major things every good Perspectives student takes away is that the Great Commission of Jesus in Matthew 28 really means, "As you go, make disciples, teaching them identification with the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit and to do what He says--no matter how hard it looks or how strange. He says, "I will hold your hand through it all. You'll be really glad you did because we're the only Ones who will be around until the end of the age." Well, that's my paraphrase anyway. I feel like I've been in the under-achiever's track in my Great Commission class over many of my years, not headed for any degree really. By God's grace, though, He has put a desire in my heart for that PHD. And why does anyone want a PHD? They want to teach!

Ruined for the Ordinary: Personal Reflection

I am ruined for the ordinary. It happened after taking Perspectives on the World Christian Movement. In fact, so many of us have been ruined that, I--who now work for Perspectives, am editor of a newsletter that goes to Class Coordinators and Instructors called...yes, "Ruined for the Ordinary".

So what did "ordinary" look like for us? Going to church every Sunday, raising kids that would hopefully do the same for the rest of their days while meeting their need in every possible way to join in team sports, get the best education, be as comfortable as possible and enjoy all the American lifestyle has to offer, AND know how to get along with everyone in their world without carrying any emotional baggage into their adult lives so they could raise their children in the same way.

So what happened? Unbeknownst to us, God had had us on a collision course with the ordinary for some time. It was innocent enough--commit to read a big textbook and listen to 15 different people talk about their exotic experiences in places like tribal Indonesia and post-Christian Amsterdam. Somehow, the Spirit of God whispered to us, "Comfort and clean living put you at the starting block; now run the race!" After the first five weeks of hearing the Story of His Glory, all that has run through our minds is SIGN UP AND START RUNNING. And, by the way, prepare for a marathon, not a sprint.

So how are you doing? Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night, like last night, and--I admit it--the ordinary still sounds really good. I don't know if it was going to our staff friends' daughter's soccer game and coming home feeling nostalgic about the days when our lives were busy with family activities. Thought balloons: They are ruined too, but they still have their family. I have boys and they don't keep up too well. It sure would be easy to go back to Little Rock where we had roots. I just let those thoughts roost a little too long. It's not Mile 21 where I've hit the wall. It's much more like where you slow down a little to grab the Gatorade being offered to you from the sidelines, to regroup and refresh, and to get your mind back in the game.

That's not ordinary. That's extraordinary. That's what I'm ruined for--the rush of spiritual adrenalin that comes to you in the low points and reminds you to run like the wind--a long obedience in the same direction, as Eugene Peterson calls it. I press on through sleepless nights for the upward call of Christ Jesus knowing there's a finish line. From the other side of the line, ordinary doesn't look like a very good option.

Hayden's World

Well, we did it. We have been saving our credit card miles for years now, and finally reached the point where we can cash them in for American Airlines tickets. They will only take us as far as Bangkok, but I'm sure we can find some interesting mode of transportation to Phnom Penh.

Excelling in Love

I woke up Thursday morning with an almost panicky feeling that I need to put every aspect of my line on Excel spreadsheets--projects, bills, maintenance (physical, emotional, and spiritual!), recipes, birthdays--everything! Now that I work in an office in this new season of life and I really know what an Excel spreadsheet does, I guess it's getting to me.

Then--a most comforting thought came to me--The Lamb's Book of Life only has two columns--my name and "heart". When I stand before Him one day, He will not get out a big wide notebook with my spreadsheet and an infinite number of columns of minutes or days and how I organized my thoughts on any given day, he only looks at the first column--her love for Me--her heart. That's it.

English Country Dancing in Fayetteville

Always looking for the unusual and the exotic in the fine print in the Weekend section, we discovered a group in North Little Rock somewhere in the 90's that did English Country Dancing every Friday night. Venturing over to a rustic (un-air-conditioned) VFW Hall became a regular part of our lives for a couple of years. The high point of the year was the Twelfth Night Ball at the Old State House where we dressed in period costumes and danced the night away. Think "Virginia Reel" or line dancing in Jane Austin movies. The intimidation factor was always present for me as the caller called out the steps and we would respond and intertwine our steps with the others in our circle or line. The good part, though, was that when someone inevitably turned the wrong direction or forgot what to do, everyone rushed to your rescue to restore the smooth execution of the lovely union of steps and rhythm.

Allemande left the lady on the left

Come back and swing the one you left

Opposite ladies chain over and back

Right and left through with the left-hand two

Do the same across from you.

We drew many friends into "the dance", a lot of whom really didn't want to go but were so proud of themselves later for going and experiencing the satisfaction of having gotten out of their comfort zone.

This week at the US Center has been a sort of Kingdom Country Dancing. We squeeze all 16 weeks of a normal Perspectives course into 8 days of classes, reading, and discussing the Kingdom of God in our midst. What normally happens once a week happens here twice a day--no wonder they call it an "Intensive". The Dance begins for the staff here, taking cues from the Coordinator--as well as serving the students, we make airport runs, feed, house, nurse ailments, arrange meetings, and otherwise accommodate the Instructors who come in for one morning or evening. It's the "Twelfth Night" dance, as the Instructors who touch down here are the best of the best in our circles and we've snatched chunks of time here and there to sit at their feet as well. We are going to be so sad when the dance ends next Wednesday, even though it has taken all our energy and focus.

We are blessed to be partners in our line here, continuing into eternity cued by the Great Caller of The Dance. He wants that line of dancers to be long and the costumes to be from every tongue, tribe and nation!

Nashville--City of Dreams

Even if you were like me and grew up avoiding the room your dad was watching Merle Haggard and Porter Waggoner in on Saturday afternoon, I am now of the opinion that everyone should spend at least a little time in Nashville observing the culture of music here. It is hard to miss the fact that these people love what they do and are proud of their musical heritage. And--surprising to me--it's contagious!

We met Lyle and Anne here this weekend and decided to make an outing of the Country Music Hall of Fame. As we walked in at 12 noon, we were directed to a songwriters workshop they assured us we did not want to miss. You probably wouldn't recognize the names of the two guys--we sure didn't--but they were masterful musicians. They joked about "feast or famine" lives, but they obviously were doing what they loved, and we were fascinated by them.

Last night, the hotel sponsored a group where the lead singer told us how she almost made the Big Time by recording "Harper Valley PTA" but Jeannie C. Riley beat her to it. She's still around though, singing her little heart out in lesser arenas because that's what she loves to do. What a picture of pursuing your dreams, and dreams are as different and varied as the dreamers themselves. It's hard for me to imagine anyone aspiring to play the dobro (ugh!) in the Grand Ol' Opry, but what I admire and seek to understand in my own life is their perseverance, risk-taking, and drive to follow those dreams. Quite a study!

I Feel Sorry for Pepper...

Salt gets all the attention, and we want to say, "Let's hear it for pepper!". We have always spurned the already ground type in the can from Kroger's for the oh-so-fresh ground type from pepper mills. John's dad, Bockie, was a woodworker and we have pepper mills that nostalgically remind of of him. This Christmas, We got a really big one like they bring to your table at the restaurant and say, "Say when." With us, I'm sure the waiter is wondering, "Are they never going to say 'when'?"

Peppercorns do you absolutely no good until they are ground and crushed, and all the oil and flavor is newly released, ready to do what they were made to do--season food and allow you to enjoy it to the fullest. Yes, we are called to be salt and light, but consider those times when the sometimes crushing circumstances you face release in you, obvious to all, your extraordinary responses of love and hope, made possible by a seasoned life of walking by faith not by sight. Yea, pepper!

A Near Perfect Day

What does a perfect day in a fallen world look like? Tuesday wasn't perfect, but it was really close. As usual on Tuesday, the staff gathers on Tuesday mornings--this Tuesday was a business meeting. Were that everyone's business meetings centered around God's glory. John read a letter from a couple we know in Kenya who are serving the people traumatized and displaced by the civil unrest there then we spent the rest of the time dreaming together about our first upcoming national gathering of Perspectives Instructors and Coordinators. After the meeting, I met at Arsega's Coffee Shop with one of the wives to talk about memorizing Scripture and hear about the amazing network of Fayetteville people who love International students. While we ate a dinner, immediately ready because I had already cooked it, we agreed that it was an ordinary day but one you just sensed nothing was going to go wrong. UPS had delivered two packages we had ordered, both questionable. The first was a replacement part for the carpet cleaner--fit perfectly. The second was a Playstation 2 game we bought Lyle from eBay, described as not working--worked perfectly. After that, I was off to a meeting of New Heights women gathering to talk about and sample healthy food and to talk, talk, talk--"perfect" ending to a "perfect" day. Thank you, Ruler of Heaven and Earth, for the pledge of future truly perfect days with You--every day for all of eternity.

Wallpaper

Last night, during the flinket episode, we changed the screensaver from Ella and me playfully sticking our tongues out at each other to a picture Hayden sent when he celebrated Christmas with the E's in New York. I love this picture, but I think I'm going to have to change it to something else. It makes me so sad, but we are counting the days until March when we are planning to go see them and when we do, I'm going to pick him up and not put him down the WHOLE TIME!

Friday Night Flinkets

When our guys were in high school, we used to love the 10 o'clock news with their Friday Night Flights coverage of the football games. We also had a little in-house joke that when you had a restless feeling, you had the flinkets. I think last night I had the Friday Night Flinkets. After a great week with the team here, we got home late then had a quick but excellent dinner of tomato basil soup, stir fry, and Spam sandwiches then settled down in the living room and started flipping through the channels. Nothing. When we heard the first few explitives fly out of Nicholas Cage's mouth in Trapped in Paradise, we jointlly decided, "This is definitely not what I had in mind for entertainment." I looked around--I had letters to write, a map lying in the living room floor I wanted to frame...but somehow that wasn't it either. We came in the office and downloaded some of Hayden's pictures we hadn't seen before and that WAS entertaining, but it really made me miss him. Flinkets rising and I started feeling my energy draining. I don't know if anyone reads this but our friend Jerry (thanks, Jerry!) but I want to archive this for myself--Flinkets are the call of my heavenly Father who wants me to retreat under the shadow of His wing where He wants to love me, direct me, and encourage me. Now that's not "trapped" but it is "paradise".

The Great Unless

I love living in Arkansas. We woke up this clear morning--only moderately cold--to the sound of singing birds and the sun spilling into the house. Christmas is like the tail lights in a time exposed picture at night in Paris--a bright streak of pleasant memories--but with a strong desire to get the tree taken down and make it look like January around here with something other than red and green. For real now--put the new batteries in the smoke alarms (on the to do list since the time change as suggested by the fire department), try again to get everyone's birthdays on a calendar where I can really remember them, organize the 2007 pictures--and, of course, actually jump on the little trampoline instead of piling giftwrap on it and eat carrot sticks instead of carrot cake. A smile creeps across my face when I think how God set the stars and planets in motion to add regular cycles of life to our existence. It's almost a cliche in our circles that He loves fresh starts, but He does! Just as the anticipation of Christmas dissolves into "enough", so our new resolve for living passionate, disciplined lives wears thin by February. The great "unless" is that His mercies are new every morning and His offer to fill our senses with a new awareness of His great omnipresence is waiting on the pillow. Somebody remind me of this in a few weeks. I may forget.