excitement at esl

I had such a fun night at esl tonight. Unfortunately, there was one scary(at the time, but funny now) moment. We were sitting discussing our vocabulary words - always a long task with any Spanish-speakers in the class - and Yeoung Jeoung (sp?) casually mentions, "Oh, there's a rat." It was so casual, that I didn't believe him. But as he continued to look past me into the kitchen (to which our classroom is linked with a doorway, with no door), I jumped up squealing, tore open the door, and ran out into the main room where David's class was being held. They all looked at me (mildly, I thought), as I jumped up on a table, still squealing about the mouse. I was the ONLY one who was the least bit scared. Yeoung Jeoung and Christopher were truly surprised that I insisted we move to the next classroom which had a door. I had a good opportunity to explain the word, "phobia." I'm still surprised about the lack of mass-panic. But Christopher explained that one of the most common dishes in Columbia is guinea pig. yummy.

conversation with laurie and eva

Laurie and Eva are sitting at the table, playing play-doh, and discussing computer games and websites.
Laurie - "Eva, have you ever been on Starfall?"
Eva - "What IS Starfall?"
Laurie - "I guess that's a no."

I think Laurie's been spending too much time with Ashlin.

Later,

Eva, after spotting my cool salt&pepper shakers on the back of my stove - "Hey, my mom has the same salt&peppers."
Me - "Yeah, Aunt Janelley brought them to us when she came back from Zambia."
Eva - "Zambia!? Where's Zambia?"
Laurie, incredulous - "You don't know??! It's in India!"
Me - "Africa."
Laurie - "Oh, yeah. Africa, Africa."
Eva - "Why does Aunt Janelley always go to Africa?"

being a mom....losing my mind

Ok, I'm feeling like a total failure as a mom today. Ashlin (10) has transformed into the haughty-est of preteens. Usually, she is funny and quirky with only hints of "I'm-better-than-the-universe"ish-ness. But this morning....ahhhh, this morning. I've had 10 years to prepare for this, so how is it possible that I have NO idea how to react? My best reaction?...the BEST thing I could come up with?....the I-can-be-angrier-than-you attack. Fail. I recomposed myself and tried a better strategy. A hug with "I don't understand, but I love you." Seemed to work, but then...NO! I got the "I don't know why I don't just run away!" And I still have no idea what prompted these outbursts. They were all over little nothings - Laurie looked at her the wrong way. Ok, patience is totally not my strong point. And I'll admit I tend to use anger as a reset button when things are escalating with the kids. But how can you even reason with someone who is completely set on being contrary and irritable and, in short, holding the entire family hostage?? (No, I'm not refering to Colin, hee hee, although Ashlin IS a mini-Colin) Hey, maybe that's a key....How do I "manage" Colin? can I use the same tactics? No, seriously, I think this is not a time for tactics, but for me to learn and develop patience and incredibly humble honesty. You can parent young children while letting your own flaws slide, but when they get old enough to see through all that, you really just need to be honest with them and yourself. I am not perfect. I am not the commander-supreme anymore. It's a sad day. :) I can expect to be called on every inconsistancy in my life for the next (how long till Laurie's 20?) 14 years?? Ahhhhhh. Somebody help.

sing

O Creator,
thank You for making
my lifesong sing to You
even when i feel
out of tune.
tune me to Your ear
and make my lifesong
SING.

o love that will not let me go
i rest my weary soul in thee
i give thee back the life i owe
that in thine ocean's depths its flow
may richer, fuller be

o joy that seekest me through pain
i cannot close my heart to thee
i trace the rainbow through the rain
and feel the promise is not vain
that morn shall tearless be

roast beef dinner

I backed the van out of the ice-covered parking spot, and headed for the highway that would take me downtown. Saying goodbye to Nana, as she headed back out west, was a sad occasion, but roast beef dinner at my parents' would be warm and joy-filled. Janelle would be there with her husband, Patrick. Hopefully, he wouldn't be too disappointed to be the only son-in-law there. My husband was too tired, after a 50-plus work week; even for roast beef. I was tired too, but I really wanted to see Nana one more time, and my girlies needed to see her too. The three of them were discussing Pokemon in the back of the van. "Uxie EX is my favorite card," Ashlin gushed. Laurie, always wanting to be like her big sister, tried to follow the maze of pokemon facts, "That's the rarest one you have, isn't it?" she remembered. She did a better job of it than I ever could - all that random data. We pulled up to the apartment building and found a parking spot on the little side-road. "Thankfully, there's no need for money in the parking meter on Sundays," I thought. "Don't forget the ice cream," Marcella said as she climbed out of the back of the van. Marcella was not distracted by the pokemon-talk. She was looking forward to mashed potatoes, gravy, roast beef, and then, ice cream!
"Sorry we took so long," I sang out as we came in the door, "I had to take Colin home and then stop to pick up the ice cream." Janelle was videoing us on her camera. "Look at you, skinny-minnie,"she said. I wished it was true. Nana was sitting on the couch, writing in a book for Janelle. It was called "Memories for my Granddaughter." I went into the kitchen to see if I could help. "Can you mash the potatoes, Joey," Mom asked as I gave her a hug. "Sure," I answered, and searched for the masher. Dad came to carve the roast. This was how it was always done. Mom cooked it and made the potatoes, veggies, and gravy, but Daddy always carved the meat. "Aaaahh! we have to eat soon before the yorkshire puddings fall," Mom panicked. We crowded around the table, the kids squabbling about where to sit. Nana took my hand as we waited for Dad to thank God for the food. "Here you go, JoJo," Nana gave me the beef. I took a tiny piece. Potatoes, gravy and lots of vegetables were my favorite, but the meat I could definately leave. As we ate, Nana gave us little tid-bits of memories of her childhood. She seemed to be back there in her mind, because of the memory book. "When my father would go to the market, he would get up about three in the morning and bring us bannock with jam, and tea in bed before he left. I remember watching for him to come home all day; we could see about a third of a mile down the road before it turned." "Did he bring you treats from the market?" I asked. "Yes," Nana remembered, "He would bring american apples, nice red ones, or sometimes dulce, or a sugar stick." There was a bit of table talk, as Nana pondered these memories - some "pass the potatoes" and a "c'mon just have a little more, then I can wash the bowl!" I scraped up the last of my peas - delicious! "A little way down the road," Nana said, between bites, "there was a hazelnut tree. And my father would go sometimes and bring us back hazelnuts. They were a real treat." "Did you roast them?" Dad asked. "No," Nana was surprised at the idea, "we just ate them." "Ooooh," Dad liked to tease Nana, "I don't think I'd-a-been eating them without roasting them, first." "No," Nana was serious, "they were really delicious. We ate them just as they were." Dad's eyes twinkled when he was being a tease. He winked at me and took the last bit of mashed potatoes. Nana was quiet for a bit. "My father used to tell us how his father..." she started, "well, this would have been in 1845 or '46 during the potato famine. He remembered walking and seeing people dead on the sides of the road with grass in their mouths." She sort-of choked out that last bit. I looked up, a bit startled. Nana was holding back tears. Here was an eighty-something year-old woman crying at the memory of something she had never even seen herself. I felt a lump in my throat. Mom had tears in her eyes, too. "There was just nothing to eat," she explained. We understood. Nana reached for my empty plate and stacked it on the others. I got up to carry them to the kitchen. Mom put the tea on, and I scooped out the ice cream.

let me be a plant

For there is hope of a tree, if it be cut down, that it will sprout again, and that the tender branch thereof will not cease. Though the root thereof wax old in the earth, and the stock thereof die in the ground; Yet through the scent of water it will bud, and bring forth boughs like a plant. Job 14: 7-9

I was struck with this small passage, not in the way Job intended as he wrote it, but with the idea of new life. If the tree of my life needs to be cut down - if it is rotton with sin or diseased with self, then let me be a plant to the glory of God. I feel that this is a promise from God. I may need to be cut down, and the result may look like nothing but a stump - I may be a fool! But beneath that stump will grow a bud, that will bring forth boughs like a plant. And, oh, to be a plant for God is greater than to be a tree, full of sin and self!!

a new year

A new year, like a fresh clean page without any writing on it, always causes me to pause and take inventory of myself. Usually, I find I have allowed my mind, my habits and thoughts to become scattered. Living is messy. My house is proof of that. If I neglect my front entryway for even one day, it becomes a pile of coats, boots, hats and mittens; and the endless piles of "stuff," that seem to appear out of no where, take over. Mentally, I need to dust and organize regularly, too. And if I leave it too long, it becomes a gigantic mess that requires a few days to untangle. That's where I am now. I constantly find myself saying, "Where did this come from?" or "What should I do with this?" Re-evaluating takes alot of energy. My usual response to things that take too much energy is procrastination, which never helps! So, I'm trying to dive in and start by sorting through all of the clutter in my "house." I need to start with the basics, and answer some tough questions. "What is really important to me?" , "What have I allowed others to tell me is important, that isn't?" , "Who am I?, and Who do I want to be?" , "Who am I trying to please?"...the list is long. As I begin to sift, I find the answers are not easy. Sometimes, the answers aren't what I thought they would be, and so I realize I have been living "someone else's life," and holding myself to someone else's standards. These questions are intimate - between me and God. Only He can help me sort this mess! O Lord, You have searched me and known me. You know my sitting down and my rising up. You understand my thoughts afar off. You comprehend my path and my lying down, and are acquainted with all my ways. There is not a word on my tongue, but O Lord, You know it altogether. You have beset me behind and before, and have laid your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me..... Psalm 139