yard sales and goodbyes

It's about 8:30 on Saturday morning... Ellen woke me up as she left the house to go running and as my head hit the pillow to go back to sleep I heard the sounds of little girls laughing and saying, "HIII MISS ELLEN!" from across the street.

I smiled, and threw on tennis shoes.

These three girls have been a huge part of our lives for the last nine months. Maria and Psalms (the beautiful 7 year old girl on the left) moved here about a week after we did in August because Maria was completing a nine month graduate program at the JAG school here in Charlottesville.

They were some of the first neighbors we really connected with here, and on the first day we discovered that Maria had to be at class everyday at 8am, but Psalms didn't get on the bus until 8:10 each morning. Thus began months of the doorbell ringing right at 7:45 :) Psalms would hang out with us each morning-- we have played countless games of War, colored many pictures (some of which are hanging in my office), and dropped about 50 ice cubes into steaming mugs of hot chocolate.

Over the year it has been a challenge to watch Psalms in the mornings-- not because of her behavior by any means! She's the most polite child and we are all "Miss" to her! But between the three of us balancing breakfast dates or the need to catch some more sleep, it has really drawn us together to have to figure out who can get up with her each day. At times we have gotten frustrated... and there are other mornings where I lay in bed and hear the doorbell ring and think in my unwilling heart "Nooooooo".... then I hear Ellen's door open and her sleepy voice greet Psalms, "Want to play cards?" If anything, it has made the three of us more of a family... we just borrow other people's children. :)

About a month ago Maria's husband, James, packed up their house in Texas and brought their three year old, Zion, to join the party here on Short 18th. Yes-- Maria and James have been apart the majority of this year! It's always so sweet when a visit is approaching because Maria and Psalms count down to the day. The whole family has been here for about a month as they get ready to leave this place. Maria has been stationed in Germany for the next three years beginning June 1.

So today was another morning of being greeted by the voices of little girls, and sleepily pulling myself together to go spend time with them. Today wasn't a school day... just a special one as I know it's the last Saturday they will be here.

The whole family has been hard at work at their house manning a yard sale... when Maria moved here they bought most of their stuff at Goodwill so that they could just get rid of it at the end of the year. I spent about 20 minutes just hanging out with little Zion this morning while Maria sold off a child's bed, some puzzles, and some of the girls' clothes.

I will miss this family. They are Christians, and it was sweet to share fellowship with them and to pray for them during their time here. Who knows, maybe one day I'll get to visit them in Germany! We are already praying for who will rent their house next... it's a tiny one, but we're hoping for another family whose life we can be a part of.

I love this city, this neighborhood, this street.

article on beauty...

http://www.nicholenordeman.com/article.aspx?id=528407

check it out girls... its really good!

being beautiful...

This is a beautiful article written by Nicole Nordeman about the pressures of being "beautiful" by the world's standards... I breathed a sigh of relief just reading the comments from artists about how they feel the same pressure I feel every single day.

http://www.nicholenordeman.com/article.aspx?id=528407

I am used to this time of year being about gearing up for a summer at camp. Four years of camp life had gotten me used to the no make-up, overall wearing days being standard. But now, living in Charlottesville the city of beautiful people, I have to make an extra effort to avoid getting caught up in the materialism of life and appearances.

My sweet friend, Joy, is on her way to Liberia tomorrow, and she writes about this very thing on her blog just a day before she leaves for the missionary life: http://finding-joy.blogspot.com/

Check it out :)

pondering patience...

As I sat in my car waiting for the light to change and let me out of the Gold’s Gym parking lot, I haphazardly flipped through the radio stations trying to find some song that fit my mood. Settling on a local station, the DJ soon came on, announcing that the singer of the previous song had recently been seen with his “on-again model girlfriend” which was a surprise because it had been rumored he was cheating on her. The DJ declared that this made no sense, because, “If he wasn’t a musician no one would want to go out with him,” she pronounced.

I caught myself glaring at the radio, and thinking of every person listening to considered themselves “not cute” and how they must be feeling about their social status now. Apparently you need to be famous and attractive to get a date. I rolled my eyes at the cultural implications as Bon Jovi’s “I’ll Be There For You” began to play. The light was still red.

“If they make us sit here this long, the light should at least stay green longer,” I thought as I inched forward just in time to see the SUV in front of me slide through the intersection at a pace just slow enough to leave me stranded behind the thick white line.

Eventually, I got my chance to escape the parking lot. Heading down the hill, I was greeted by the glow of red break lights as three lines of cars stood waiting for the next light to grant them passage onto the 250 Bypass—the Road Home. The radio was momentarily eclipsed by the sound of yelling; glancing to my left at the oncoming- but-not-so-much-moving traffic, I saw a man in a green pick-up truck, window rolled down, exercising his freedom of speech. Loudly proclaiming the injustices of traffic, he used several expletives as he rolled forward about a foot. Apparently others agreed with Angry Pickup Man and a few disgruntled honks squeaked out of the cars behind me.

“Goodness. Chill out,” I breathed.

I glanced at Angry Pickup Man now directly to my left, and hypocritically thought, “If he had Jesus he’d be more patient.”

Yes, at the moment I was calming sitting in my car, grooving to a now unknown R&B song, relaxed and far from using horn to express my opinion. Seemingly patient. But I harbor a terrible habit of grinding my teeth, grunting, and yelling “GO SLOWER!” at cars in front of me. I seem to keep my inner traffic gremlin quite tame when I have passengers in the car, but once alone he leaps out and rides shotgun. This is something that surprises me daily, as I find myself exasperated that the people on the main thoroughfare don’t have the courtesy to let me turn left and don’t seem to realize how important I am at that very moment. So do not be fooled my endorphin-induced calm… I am not a patient driver.

But the small encounter with impatience did get me thinking (one of many great distractions you can use to keep the traffic gremlin quiet while sitting in rush hour traffic). Do I really want people to know Christ so that they will be more patient at a stoplight? So that horns will sound less frequently?

“Of course not,” I rebuked my own thoughts. “Being patient is more than just resisting the overwhelming urge to yell and slap the steering wheel in frustration. We wait for a lot more than a green light.”

Or do we?

Sex? Nope… the vast majority of people aren’t waiting to have sex before marriage. What’s the point? As I drove down the highway, I passed a few fast-food restaurants… we don’t wait for meals to be ready—we just grab it on our way. If we want it, we just go get it. I remembered a commercial I had seen at the gym last week for Urge.com, touting the slogan “Obey your urge.” We are a desire driven culture. Is there even a place for patience within it?

“Ok, but I’m saving up for a car right now. I have to be patient because it’s going to take me about two years to have enough money to buy one,” I reasoned with myself.

I turned right onto a side street, bypassing the rows of car dealerships on Pantops Mountain.

“But if you wanted to, you could stop saving and just take out a loan, have the car the same day,” Self countered.

I came to yet another stop light—thankfully the last in my ride home—and paused across from Jak & Jill’s Diner (rumored to be the first fast-food restaurant in Charlottesville actually). “Do we appreciate the time, effort, and skill that goes into a great cuisine? Or would we rather have a hamburger and “world famous” milkshake?” I wondered. Having grown up in a family that appreciates great food, I love to enjoy a meal that’s been carefully prepared. But even today as I ran on the treadmill I was tempted by the efficiency of the Hamburger Helper commercial in front of me. When I am a wife and mother will I take the time to make homemade meals or opt for quicker options?

“Ok what about art,” I asked myself. “We still stand in front of paintings and wonder at the hours it must have taken Van Gogh or Degas to layer the paint, adding detail after detail. Masterpieces take patience.”

“Oh really?” Self cleverly countered. “Are you sure we are not just taught to value that masterpiece because of the price tag? Surely if it costs this much it is worth a lot.”

Self 2. Me 0.

Stumbling upon the realization that we value something, not for the amount of time it took to prepare or create, but simply because the monetary cost dictates its worth to us, saddened me.

Will technology’s value overshadow art in our society, not because it is masterful, but because it is expensive? Thoughts of the blue-glow of computer screens masking the shadowy beauty of Rembrandts many self portraits flooded my head.

“Is there anything for which we are willing to be patient?” I asked.

“Ah… more importantly, can you prove that anything is worth your patience?”

Point, Self.

I made my last left turn, and drove home to microwave my dinner.

Redskins v. Falcons

This weekend the long-awaited Redskins v. Falcons game finally happened! Even though the skins lost (and we got lost about 6 times), it was a fabulous trip... check out some pictures :)

All Saint's Fair

Here are some pictures from our All Saint's Fair at Trinity this weekend!







Mr. Burton and his son Stephen who is in my 2's class. We just found out we are neighbors!




Kaylin and Kendall Verbrugge on the left with little Chloe Doran, Dennis's daughter.

Greg Thompson, our senior pastor, with his youngest daughter Margaret. She was a little overwhelmed by everyone dressed up, but seemed to like getting her nails done.

Sweet little Annabel dressed as Snow White :)

Some little ones trying out the bowling game...

Although tiring, the night was a huge success for the families and for their little ones. I'm learning a lot just by watching the parents around me. I was always amazed at Anna Steltzer's ability to stop everything and listen to two year old Colton stumble through words to tell her a story. I think it can be easy to tune out children as they speak to us because they may not notice as much as an adult might... but on the other hand we have all these teenagers that tell us they dont feel like anyone really listens to them. Maybe it started when they were two and telling a story.

Even this morning as Psalms and I were playing cards on my living room floor before the bus arrived, I was tempted to flip on the Today Show and catch the news while we played. Then I realized that tells her she's just a part of my normal day, that I'm not really being attentive to her. It's a privilege to give her my undivided attention for 20 minutes every morning, even if we only talk about who is winning Crazy 8's.

Children have taught me a lot lately and are redefining how I think about things...

Patience now means watching Psalms try and flip her little stack of playing cards all the right direction and try and hold them in her hands without just straightening the pile for her...

Self control has come in restraining myself from succumbing the the charms of crying 2 year olds and giving them hugs when what they need is to be disciplined...

And Faithfulness has been shaped by the little things in Sunday School preparation like making sure every table has enough crayons... it seems like nothing to me, but to the teachers it is the balance between a smooth-running classroom and a 3 year old meltdown. Making sure there are exactly 8 copies of every activity sheet in the folders seems tedious after counting to 8 about 100 times a day... but to the one child who doesn't get a coloring sheet it makes a big difference.

Who knew you could learn so much from such little people :)

Hmm...

Dad I know you're going to have an opinion about this one :)

"Albert Wolters offers helpful clarification as he differentiates between the 'structure' and 'direction' of culture. Wolters says that 'structure refers to the order of creation, to the constant creational constitution of any thing, what makes it the thing or entity that it is.' The structure of something is positive and good. In its substance, essence and nature it was brought into existence by God at creation and was part of his perfect created order. 'Direction, by contrast, designates the order of sin and redemption, the distortion or perversion of creation through the fall on the one hand and the redemption and restoration of creation in Christ on the other.' In other words, all the ingredients in the cultural soup are either moving in the direction of obedience or disobedience to God's will."
- Walt Mueller Engaging the Soul of Youth Culture

I agree to some extent... but what about things like cocaine? Is that, in its substance, essence, and nature positive and good?

Thoughts...?

Fall in C'ville

There goes my hero....

This afternoon while I driving home from work I glanced at my watch. 5:15pm. Dad will be home and hopefully not too fair into his afternoon nap. (Being an introvert and an 8th grade teacher is an exhausting combination). Dialing home, I smiled to hear his surprised, "Hello?" Apparently I didn't interrupt naptime but did disturb him from his crossword puzzle. He'll make a great grandpa one day.

I asked him how school was today and he said it was a little somber since he taught about 9/11 today. His current 8th graders were in 3rd grade when the terrorist attacks occurred, so their memories are scattered at best. Too young to personally connect with the date now pregnant with meaning for older Americans, they listened to Dad explain the heroics of those on board Flight 93. Men risked their lives to bring that plane down in Shanksville, Pennsylvania rather than in a government building in DC or New York. As he held up the Flag of Heroes, an American flag where names of fallen 9/11 rescue workers in red form the flag's stripes, the spoke about what it means to be a hero.

I remembered a conversation in our worldview class last year about heroes as we struggled with an assignment to write a one page paper on our personal hero. Many of us had a hard time identifying "a person who lived their life in a way we'd want to emulate." By the end of the semester most of us had written on a family member or close friend. Few wrote on a nationally recognized public figure. John Cunningham, our teacher, pointed out the shift from public to personal in our generation. It seems Dad has picked up on the trend as well. He quickly distinguished between a celebrity and a hero with his students and explained how a football player's actions on the field are not heroic, although they may be admirable. What he doess off the field may (or may not) make him a hero. Dad and I agreed that kids are less likely to choose a public figure as a hero because the minute after they are exalted by the media for their public actions that benefit the common good, they are likely to be slandered for an element of their private life that is less than heroic.

Or worse, the media continues to exalt a great athlete for his prowess on the field, choosing to ignore or overlook the minefield of a personal life unworthy of exaltation. This disconnect has taught our generation to be cynical towards public figures. Their once "heroes" carry reputations tarnished with allegations of rape, excessive partying, and other evidences of inconsistent lifestyles. So what pictures does that paint of "goodness" for this generation?

I think it's twofold. First, "goodness" is only a shiny door on a closet full of skeletons. No one can possible be really good in this world (which is somewhat true-- Romans 3:23 all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God). So they view people with cynical eyes, always waiting for the other shoes to drop.

The second impact is it teaches that a mess of a private life can be ignored, even excused, if your "greatness" can be exalted publicly. Greatness-- in music, athletics, fashion, even business-- has replaced goodness of character and heart. The modern teen longs for greatness... and why not? If you're "one of the greats" you can get away with anything...

Or can you?

[pictures]

Sometimes when I am praying and trying to figure out how to think about God, I ask for a picture... I am a visual person and having some sort of image to guide my thinking or to refocus me is so helpful. This morning I was so thankful for how God speaks to us through what we see everyday-- children laughing (and crying!), the sun rising one more day, rain washing down on everyone without showing favor or restraint... and then through Oswald Chambers I got another picture of how God works.

John 7:37-38 says, "If you are thirsty, come to me! If you believe in me, come and drink! For the Scriptures declare that rivers of living water will flow out from within."

Every river finds has a greater source in the ocean, but the rivers, creeks, and streams touch parts of the land that the ocean itself doesn't reach. They are meant to flow out of the ocean and into the land... it takes time for them to carve their beds around rocks or even underground in order to reach the dry parts of the land, but they find a way.

The church where I work, Trinity Presbyterian, is studying Acts right now in an effort to figure out what it really means to be a church for this city and for the world and the resulting question for me is what does it mean to live a Christian life as part of that church? In his sermon Sunday Greg asked that question... does it mean to be nice to everyone? does it mean that I should just avoid doing bad things and live a good life? Is that all?

This is a big church... but sitting out here at the end of Fontaine Avenue it's not going to reach all the places and people that are thirsty. So what does it mean for me to be a part of this church? I know it means that God has sent me to live in a certain area of Charlottesville... I've been praying about it since early last year and He just opened doors and hearts to allow us to be on Short 18th Street downtown... so now what? I dont know specifically... I (for once) have no plan or timeline laid out... all I can do is ask that I will be like those rivers flowing out of the Source and trying to reach dry land.

Most of the time I just think like an (almost) 23 year old girl going about her business each day... but I'd like to think more about what it means to be a part of His business. What does it mean to be a Christian?

"It's understanding that the Spirit has come to reshape our
understanding of what it means to follow Him in the world, to send us to places
we didn't intend to go, to love people we did not intend to love, to bear sorros
we did not intend to bear. But we do that to honor God and for the good of the
world." -- Greg Thompson "The Spirit of Hope" http://www.trinitycville.org/worship/sermons_online.php

Your Mercies Are New Every Morning...

Sweet clarity

Of mind, heart, and soul

A new morning

And new mercies

Swept away with night's dark blanket

Are my worries, fears, and doubts.

Risen with the warm golden sun

My hopes and dreams come out.

A day that holds

All things new

And unguarded you see my heart.

A brand new day, new chance

New start.

I stand just still enough

In the dawn's cool air

To see Your work begin

In me create a new desire

To delight in my God within.

It's here You dwell,

Lord of my Life

In my morning moments

When my vision's unclouded

My heart-all hopeful

For what is yet to come.

Lord run with me

Through this day,

Draw close and near to me

That I may always remember

This morning

This glimpse of sweet purity.

July 28, 2005

...a camp memory...

Cast out of the Garden
and walking among thorns
they found themselves alone, from His presence torn
by their own hands' admission
sin laid a guilty claim
upon these two creations
and all who bear their name.

Doubting and unsure of
A promise so unheard of
They laughed at Him.
How could someone of my age
Be the one to bear a son?
But a nation you have promised, with new names you have called us
Your will be done.

A gentle girl and a carpenter
you chose to bring the word
of your Great Love.
And when she held this tiny child
she saw a king to be
But why and when and how
Remained a mystery.

And then upon that cross
It seemed all hope was lost
Proclaimed a criminal, they led him to the Skull
where all could see.
This Savior you have called, now helpless, beaten down
And although he wore a crown
Sin, he bore, 'stead majesty....


...

Reaching...

The Beauty of Pursuit

Last night when I was cutting out magazine clippings I wasn't sure what I was going to do with them... and then I got really excited about worshipping in a different way, mainly inspired by Kelly and her artistic talents. So this morning I got up and took out my sketchbook and gathered some of the clippings and made a collage about beauty and wrote in verses and prayers around it. It was SO FUN! Its like a different way of journaling, and having images before me helps me to worship and praise God for specific things. and we all know that I can't sit still to save my life, so doing something while praying was helpful (although I acknowledge it is still important for me to be still sometimes). But this is what God showed me...

Because we are created in His image, and He is a creative Creator, we have a desire to create as well... and when we make things beautiful and create new things with our hands we feel His pleasure in creation...
Psalm 139:13 kept coming into my head while I worked...

For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb...

So often we look at the huge ocean and see His power or at the little petals on a flower and see His intricacy... but how often do we look at ourselves and see His workmanship, His masterpiece? The psalm continues...

Your works are wonderful, I know that full well...

By His works, David means US! I was so blown away by that realization that I started over at the beginning of the Psalm reading it aloud, and just started to cry realizing the way God pursues us. This Psalm is about the delight of being known, deeply and wholly. I think I have always viewed verses 7-8 as David fleeing God...

Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there...

and the first few verses as God being a watchdog of our lives...

O Lord, you have searched me and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar...

But no... David is FINDING God in all places, not fleeing Him. And that God knows our every move and every thought is meant to be comforting, not threatening. How our pride and fierce independence and mistrust of being known makes us defensive against being known so intimately. But when I read it aloud this morning I saw how these are not words of complaint, but rather words of praise. The God of the Universe can predict our actions and finish our sentences-- much like a husband can for his life-long wife because he knows her so well.
I heard it said once that we were born gagging on God-- that sin has made us adverse to Him, and that as we are redeemed we become more attracted, more in love, and our desire for Him is restored. It is perplexing that what we want most in the world, to be known, is also what seems the most threatening to us, isn't it?
Nevertheless, regardless of our adversity, stubborness, and resistance... our God chases us.

Breathtaking.