Just a Quick Update...

Our caseworker was sick last week so we've rescheduled for Wednesday. I did ask her when we were on the phone if this meeting was standard or if there was a problem and she said it's standard for starting the homestudy process. So, I'll post again after Wednesday! Thanks everyone for asking how it went. :)

Meeting Tonight

We have a meeting with our caseworker tonight. I guess the agency looked over all of our paperwork and wanted to talk about some stuff. I'm not sure if this is standard procedure or if they're concerned about something, so I'm a little nervously curious about what she'll say! We had to take a pretty extensive personality test and we were totally honest even when it exposed our ugly places, so I hope we didn't score as psycologically unstable or something. We do have our moments... :)

The great thing about trusting God and His sovreignty is knowing that we don't have to worry about what happens because He has the best for us no matter what. But hopefully we're not nuts.

How it All Began

At 17 I didn't want to date. I didn't want to get married. I didn't want to have kids. I thought that getting married and having kids was an automatic disqualification from any adventure and all intense forms of ministry, not to mention a death-sentence on personal freedom. It was from this frame of mind that I was operating when Matthew decided to pursue a relationship with me. Needless to say, it didn't go so well at first.

He tried the typical tactics... told some friends that he was interested and let it trickle down the grapevine. I made it clear that I was not interested and sent that right back up the grapevine. He got the message, but was not deterred. He showed up wherever I was, always sat next to me, and just basically hung around until we had built a really strong friendship. How we got from friends to boyfriend and girlfriend is kind of complicated. I would say it started with a Diamondbacks game that he thought was a date and I didn't. It lasted 7 awkward innings and ended with a very long conversation in the driveway of my parents' house. I can't remember everything we talked about, but it involved dating, labels, marriage, individuality, and freedom for ministry. I don't know how long we sat out there, but I do remember whatever CD we were listening to repeated itself several times before I went inside. There were several crossroads like that in our relationship, and eventually I came to trust Matthew that he would not let us become what I feared: self-focused, cautious people with small dreams and fading identities.

We married in 2001, at which point I still wasn't sure I'd ever want kids. I did know, however, that if we did have kids I wanted to adopt. I'd even have been happy to only adopt and not have biological kids at all. Somewhere along the line that changed, but the desire to adopt did not. God placed the passion for the outcast inside me years earlier and it only grew stronger as I saw our marriage growing. I was frustrated that Matthew didn't share that passion and for a time it was a source of dissension for us. But God, who uses broken things, turned it into one of the biggest milestones in my journey as a wife as He taught me to let go, trust Him, and trust Matthew's leadership. I also started praying about it. My prayer was that God would change one of our hearts. Either He would give Matthew the desire to adopt or take mine away. To my delight, He chose the former.

As our family has grown, our passion for adoption has grown with it. For Matthew it has been a gradual process of being drawn in to the heart of God for the needy, the broken, the defenseless and the fatherless. For me it has been watching our family unfold and wanting to share that incredible blessing with a child who is without it. We have been waiting, waiting, waiting for the right time and we feel like this is it. We're seven years down this road now and I am so thankful that I was wrong about marriage, wrong about kids, and wrong about what it really means to be free.

Something New

Obviously, blogging has not been a very high priority for me lately. I've been considering just taking it down and being okay with saying “I had a blog once” and looking off fondly into the distance. An idea from our friend Luke, however, has brought new life and purpose to this neglected page.

Something that has been a high priority for me lately is navigating through the process of adoption. We're in the very beginning stages, so much of what we are navigating is our own hearts, our thoughts, our fears, and our desires. We have come to the point where we know with as much certainty as possible that we will adopt, and we will adopt relatively soon. Everything else is totally up in the air. There is a lot to be thought through and a lot of decisions to make and we'll surely need some help. That's where this will come in.

Our friend Luke is living his dream and planting a church here in Arizona, Second Mile Church. He also is doing some major navigating, thinking, praying, and decision making. He has a blog for the church, email updates, and most importantly, a prayer team. He suggested to Matthew today that we do the same thing for this adoption. So, this is effectively becoming my blog about the adoption. Suddenly I have plenty to write about.

Now what we need is a prayer team. Anyone who reads this can just pray for us as you keep up with what's going on, but if you'd like to formally “sign up” and really commit to pray us through this, you can leave a comment or just email me and we'd love it.

Much more to come....

Just Checking In

Okay, so it’s been a really, really long time since I’ve written anything here. I think I've actually been pretending that I don't even have a blog. I guess I’ve been busy with other things. Good things. We’re working on the next CD which I hope will be released this Fall. I love how it’s turning out so far. We’re working with a really talented engineer this time and it’s fun just to watch him work. So that’s been a bit time consuming, but well worth it of course. I get people who will come up to me and tell me they listen to my cd like every day and I just think to myself, “man, I’ve got to get something else out there for these poor people to listen to!” So hang in there, all you who are ready to jump off a bridge if your kid asks to hear the intro to “Daughter of the Lord” one more time. Something new is coming.

We start classes tonight at Christian Family Care Agency to take the next step as we look into adoption. I’m excited to get more information and hopefully come to the point where we can really make a wise, educated decision about if and when and who and where.

We’re still fighting with Benjamin’s eczema, and Bethany was pretty sick last week. Between the two of them I think I was at a medical establishment 4 times in 3 days. That was a rough week. I can’t imagine being a parent of a child who is really sick, like sick all the time. Be thankful for healthy kids, and pray for those that aren’t.

I hardly recognize my front yard! The Tru-Vine crew just finished up an all-day project revamping the landscaping. Our drip system and our sprinkler system were totally dysfunctional so instead of repairing both we just repaired the drip and ripped out the lawn. Well, we didn’t rip out the lawn, they ripped out the lawn. The kids and I sat at the breakfast table and watched one guy with a shovel go at it for 5 hours. They said it was his first day on the job. By about 11:30 he looked to me like he was already considering a career move. Bethany said she wants to do that when she grows up, but she wants to be a girl landscaper, not a boy one. They did a great job and Bret is a great guy so here is his number if you live in my area and need residential landscaping: 480-330-5711.

The outlook for the rest of the summer is fun! We have a bunch of trips scheduled, and we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves earlier this month when the two of us got away to northern Arizona for a little biking and hanging out. I’m into making videos out of the photos now because it’s more fun to look back at, so here’s a link to the one I made for that trip: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fgV1W8QlU8g. I’m not savvy enough to actually post it here. So then next month we head back up north with the whole crew to support Daddy as he rides his bike from Flagstaff to the Grand Canyon. Then a few weeks later, we head west to Del Mar for a few days. Then, in September, we’re doing the big one: Disneyland! Top 3 reasons for going in September: 1. Low Attendance 2. Lower temperatures 3. Harper is still two and gets in for free.

So, now when you check in down the line and see that Kristie STILL hasn’t blogged, at least you’ll know what I’m doing instead. :)

Priorities

My 3-year-old was on the potty doing her business the other day and it was taking her a little while.

"You know Bethany, you could always flip through a magazine while you're sitting there," I suggested.

"Well Mommy," She explained, "I can't hold a magazine because if I let go of the toilet seat I'll fall in."

Good call, kiddo.

I Have a Dream

“Writing has been difficult lately as time has been scarce, but I love it so much. It's only been the past year or so that I have been seriously pursuing professional songwriting although it's always been a dream of mine. I guess I just kept it to myself for a long time because I felt like a little kid who dreams of being an astronaut, and I didn't want to look foolish when it became clear that I didn't stand a chance. (Typical writer's self-deprecating thought patterns.) But now I've decided that true failure would be never trying at all, so here I am. I wouldn't necessarily say that God has flung open any doors, but He has left a few ajar. And it's been just enough to keep me going, keep me plugging away, hoping that one day I just may make it to the moon.”
-Posted by yours truly on a songwriter’s discussion board two years ago

Well, this is a big week for me. After signing my name on a dotted line I will officially become an astronaut. I’ve been working with a great guy from a small publishing company just outside of Nashville for a while now, doing single-song agreements and a few assignments here and there. It has been such a great outlet for my songs and a wonderful relationship and I have felt the providence of God through it all, as cliché as that sounds. A few weeks ago he called and offered to bring me on as their first staff writer, and, after much thought and prayer, I accepted! So here I sit, awaiting the paperwork, marveling at the goodness of God in my life.

It’s not that this is going to make me famous. And as my writer friends would attest to, it certainly isn’t going to make me rich. To the majority of the population, it’s probably not even something to aspire to above any other occupation. But for me it was a dream and even though not a whole lot will change because of this piece of paper, it’s a big deal in my book. A lot of that is probably because “Songwriter” is not exactly the kind of position that you get by answering a classified ad. There’s this great chasm that exists between unpublished writer and published writer that, try as one may, a writer simply can’t bridge on their own apart from some sort of spark from elsewhere in the universe. That’s what makes it feel a little like trying to become an astronaut or an athlete or a rock star. Those are my back-ups, by the way.

Like I mentioned in the excerpt above, I kept most of my grand ideas to myself lest I shared them and they be squashed shortly there after. It was a defense mechanism. Don’t try to hard and for goodness sakes, don’t let anyone know what you’re trying to do. That way if you fail, it won’t hurt so much. I wrote my first song at 14, then a few more after that, all of which were heard by a sum of probably 6 people. I began writing a lot more in high school, started some garage bands, and then put out some recordings for my local church and anyone else that liked the songs enough to shell out 10 bucks. I remember in high school my junior year they made us all take a computerized test that is supposed to tell you what job is the right fit for you so you can select a college and a major. I had already decided I wasn’t going to go to college, but I took it seriously just out of curiosity. After nearly an hour and over 100 questions, my occupation of choice popped up on the screen: Composer. Even though the title “Composer” meant more like Bach and Mozart to me, I still felt somewhat validated by the little computer program. After all, I did have a dream, I just wasn't ready to go making any speeches about it.

I’m realizing that at this rate, this already lengthy blog will become obscenely long, so let’s fast forward. Actually, I guess that’s a little old fashioned. Let’s Tivo and skip the commercials. Graduated in 2000, went right to corporate work and kept writing/recording on the side. Got married in 2001, kept working, kept writing/recording on the side. In 2003 I attended a little local songwriting event and was pleasantly surprised to discover the existence of a vast, underground Christian songwriting sub-culture, with t-shirts and everything. A little like Trekkies, but with a significantly lower weirdness factor. In the years that followed I slowly ventured deeper and deeper into this network of people that shared my passion and found not only a songwriting family, but also the courage and confidence to admit to myself and my world that I indeed had a dream to write songs on a professional level.

In 2004 I was offered a management deal from some random little firm that wanted to develop me as an artist-writer. That was a big fork in the road for me because it forced me to decide what exactly I wanted, and what sacrifices I was willing and not willing to make. With a new baby in my arms, I turned it down telling them thank you, but that I didn’t want to be an artist, I wanted to be a writer. It was a little scary to make that decision because I found myself asking “Was that it? Did I just pass up my only shot?” But while I probably could have squeezed my dream into that opportunity, it was clearly a square peg and a round hole. So, I waited. Then, a few years later, the spark came. Through a listening panel at a songwriting event, someone gave one of my songs to someone else who gave it to someone else and, three years later, presto! I’m a "professional songwriter".

I have no idea where God will take this from here. I may just keep writing music for church services and for print, I may get a big artist cut someday. Honestly, at this point I would be perfectly happy if things just continued as they are. I am a wife, I am a mom, I am deeply imbedded in ministry, and, I am a songwriter. God has been so gracious to our family, and for as long as He decides to let me have my cake and eat it too, I am going to enjoy every morsel.

One More Beautiful Reminder

Yesterday after church we all gathered at my mother-in-law’s beautiful home to celebrate Easter with our family. It was a sweet time, similar to last year, with good food and an egg hunt for the girls. I took this picture during the egg hunt moments before Bethany, as she so often does, provided me with yet another allegorical insight into my relationship with God.

My mother-in-law had filled each plastic egg with some sort of tiny treasure. Some held stickers, others plastic rings or fuzzy toy chicks. Bethany and Harper wandered around the yard picking up eggs, opening each one and peering expectantly inside. Several eggs into it, Bethany had come upon a purple plastic necklace. “A necklace!” She declared with delight. She couldn’t put it on fast enough and she smiled as she gazed at it hanging around her neck. Soon after she found another egg containing another necklace, this time with blue plastic beads. With equal excitement she adorned herself with it and continued picking up eggs.

After a few more eggs, she opened one egg and stopped, staring inside. Without saying anything, she rose to her feet and slowly lifted its contents into the light. It was a “real” necklace, made with a metal chain and a glass heart pendant. She stared at it for a moment as it glittered in the sun. “I don’t like these necklaces anymore,” she stated matter-of-factly, and she yanked the two plastic necklaces from her neck. She tossed them on the ground behind her, all the while never taking her eyes off the shining new necklace. She ran over to Daddy for help putting it on, and from that point forward all other plastic necklaces she found were promptly relegated to Harper.

Thomas Chalmers preached a famous sermon titled “The Expulsive Power of a New Affection”. Yesterday I saw that expulsive power at work in my three-year-old. Chalmers’ premise is that it takes more to quell a love for worldly things then simply to say “Bad, bad worldly things!” It takes a new and greater affection to replace the lesser one. And of course, that one great affection that expels all else is Jesus Christ.

When I take the time to truly behold Jesus, I want to respond as my daughter did. I want to be so dazzled by His glory that I find myself tearing from my neck the plastic imitations and refusing all lesser treasures in order that I might have the One great thing, the “real” thing, and so to be ruined for this world.

Thank you Bethany, for one more beautiful reminder.

No Photo for This One, Folks

(This is not a tale for the weak of stomach, nor for anyone who happens to be eating at the present time).

Everything happens to my side of the bed. Sippy cups left lying on their sides to drip a slow and steady wet spot into the mattress. Diapers seem to leak only when the child is playing on my side. Then there was the time Bethany shuffled into our room in the middle of the night complaining that her tongue hurt. I turned on the lamp and told her to open her mouth so I could examine her tongue. She opened wide and promptly threw up all over me and, yes, my side of the bed. So it really came as no surprise to me when the events of last night revolved around my half of the mattress.

The girls were playing together in the living room and Matthew and I were in our room talking and setting our alarm clocks. They has been playing out there for a while and we knew from past experience that eventually one of them would realize they hadn’t seen their parents in a while and come looking for us. So when we heard Harper call “Mommy?!” and the sound of little footsteps coming our direction, we thought we’d be funny and hide. We jumped into the bed and under the comforter and waited. We heard her come into the bathroom. “Where are you?” she asked, not seeing us at our sinks. We snickered loudly under the covers so she would be able to find us, and sure enough, she did. She laughed as she found our feet and patted down the comforter to find the rest of us. Still under the covers, we then learned the reason for her pursuit of us. “Mommy and Daddy, I went poo poo in my panties.”

We shot up like a couple of rockets to see our bare-butted two year old holding her panties in the air. “Harper,” I asked slowly. “Is the poo poo in there?”, pointing to the unfortunate pair of Curious George underwear. “Ya,” she replied. “I went poo poo in my panties.” I took the panties from her, handling them as I would an armed nuclear missile, and peered inside. There was evidence that poo poo had indeed been in these panties, but was there no longer. The situation had escalated.

We quickly moved into the living room, stepping lightly, and scanned the area. No poo poo. We didn’t know how long she had been walking around like that, or how much ground she had covered. All we knew was that somewhere in our home was an MIA piece of poop. While Matthew put Harper in the tub I continued to search the rooms but still found nothing. I rejoined Matthew in the master bathroom where Harper was playing happily in the tub.

“Did you find it?” Matthew asked, cringing hopefully.

“No!” I replied, throwing my hands up in disbelief. “Where could it be?” As possible answers to my own question flashed through my mind, I knew that we just had to find this poop. Remembering Harper had been at our bedside I grabbed the comforter and flipped it back. Intending to look under the covers, I was not expecting to see something launch off the comforter into the air and hit the floor with a thud.

Eureka. We’d found it.

And once again, on my side of the bed.

When Matthew leaves for work tomorrow, I’m rotating the mattress.

One... Two... Three...

There have been numerous times over the course of my life when I have tried the popularized method of counting sheep to get to sleep. I would close my eyes and picture a wooden fence with a bit of grass growing at the base of it, and one by one sheep would come into the picture, jump over the fence, and exit stage left. But it never got me to sleep.

Recently, however, I tried a new way of counting sheep. Instead of the sheep jumping over the fence, I pictured a whole herd of sheep standing close together and tried to count them as they moved around and smooshed into each other. I guess it was so difficult and frustrating that rather than continue such a tedious, pointless task, I just went to sleep.

Maybe you too have been fruitlessly counting your sheep jumping over a fence. Try the herd. It just might work for you too.

And maybe, just maybe, the rest of you have always counted the herd and I've just been somewhere out in left field with sheep jumping over fences. If that's the case, forget I ever mentioned it.

A Night Out On the Town

Matthew had to work late tonight so I told the girls that we would go out on the town, which basically means perusing our favorite outdoor shopping center. First we browsed through Tea and Trinkets, a princess store aimed directly at little girls like my Bethany who’s pulse quickens in the presence of anything pink or sparkly. Benjamin clearly felt a bit uncomfortable, but politely kept it to himself. After saying “no, honey” five or six hundred times we walked over to Pei Wei for some dinner. The waiter looked doubtful as he set our order down on the table- one plate of Mongolian beef with rice and a big bowl of chicken lo mein. I got the feeling he thought we had bitten off a little more than we could chew, but by the end we proved him wrong with 3 clean plates (save for the pile of carefully extracted vegetables on Bethany’s) and fortune cookies to boot. I always feel a little sorry for the unfortunate bus boy that comes to clean up the floor when Harper has just had her way with a plate full of noodles. But the way I figure it, if she means anything to him it’s job security.

As we left Pei Wei we stopped by one of the big fountains and the girls put it their two cents… and their hands… and then their forearms. When feet had clearly become the next objective I decided it was time to move on. We walked the 50 or so yards to Barnes and Noble, stopping along the way to take pictures and point out important things like ants and “pokey tactuses”. As we passed A.J.’s Fine Foods Harper asked to see the cakes, so we stopped by their bakery for a minute or two. With both of them poking and touching everything within reach, a few minutes was all I dared stay for fear of having to pay for a dropped box of twenty-five-dollar imported ruby-crusted muffins. Fortunately we made it out without incident.

Finally we reached Barnes and Noble and went straight to the children’s area, where we played the game where they take every book off the shelves and discard them on the floor and I follow behind them, desperately trying to put each book back even remotely near its original location. We looked at lots of books and I read them a few stories in a big comfy chair. After purchasing a new book of Bible Stories it was off to our final and most highly anticipated destination, Paradise Bakery to get a cookie. (In case there is any debate, fortune cookies do not count as cookies any more than Fig Newtons count as cake). Harper ate her cookie the way she eats lots of flat food items- by taking bites straight down the middle and disregarding the growing sides until she is literally smashing the food against her face to get to the bottom. She left with chocolate from ear to ear.

We piled back into the van, fat and happy, and headed for home. Nothing like a night out on the town.

Four Things

There is a "4 Things" survey email ricocheting through cyberspace and it hit my inbox last week. Everyone in my blogosphere is posting their answers and I'm having such a good time reading them that I think I'll post mine too.

Four jobs I have had in my life:
1. Journalist
2. Administrative Assistant for A.C. Green
3. Sound Technician
4. Florist

Four movies I would watch over and over.
1. Tommy Boy
2. Rudy
3. A League of Their Own
4. Any of the "Oceans"

Four places I have lived:
1. Mesa, Arizona (2 times)
2. Phoenix, Arizona (2 times)
3. Tempe, Arizona
4. Gilbert, Arizona
And I'm not planning on leaving. So there.

Four TV Shows that I Watch
1. The Office
2. Dora the Explorer
3. Sports Center
4. Re-runs of Cosby, Friends, and Raymond

Four places I have been:
1. Hong Kong
2. Mexico
3. Canada
4. Inside a dryer

Four of my favorite foods:
1. Anything deep fried dipped in ranch dressing
2. Great Sandwiches. Not just sandwiches. Great Sandwiches.
3. The spinach dip at Charlestons
4. Noodles in any way, shape, or form

Four places I would rather be right now:
1. Nashville (Those in want out, those out want in!)
2. The beach
3. On a horse
4. Disneyland (and in 2 weeks, I will be!)

My New Favorite Christmas Ornament

So, it’s the New Year and everyone is posting fantastic New Year’s entries on their blogs and I feel like a lump for not following suit. So here it is: my fantastic New Year’s post. I used to write in my journal without fail every first of the year, but that tradition comes to an end this year. I hardly journal at all anymore, especially with this blog for my creative writing outlet. I’m thinking for the blog this year I might start adding pictures. When I began I wanted to have a strictly textual blog, but as I read other blogs I realize that I really enjoy the pictures. It’s also a great way to post without actually having to say much. So look forward to a little more visual stimuli around here, and hopefully a little more frequency.

In fact, why not start off 2008 with a photo? That way I can get away without saying anything of real significance. Friends, I give you my new favorite Christmas ornament, created by my friend Kacey McGinty.

(To see her incredible work or book her as a photographer, go to http://www.kaceyluvi.com/.) Hey, why not plug a friend? It's the least I can do.

Happy 2008!

FYI

There is no such word as "nother".

The word "another" is broken down as "an-other". Should you wish to emphasize your point by inserting the word "whole" into "another", the correct format would be "an-whole-other". Because "whole" does not begin with the vowel sound, the "n" in "an" is rendered unecessary, and thus should be removed. Therefore, the correct phrase is "a whole other".

Thank you.

What is That Smell?

I love Christmastime, and the weeks leading up to it. In the footsteps of my mother, I spend much of the advent season plastering the outside of my house with Christmas lights. This year, in spite of adding several new elements to the display, I finished a full day early just before the rain came. The lights fared surprisingly well in the deluge, each connection carefully protected in Saran wrap, so I thought that my lights had withstood the test and would now shine uninhibited for the rest of the Holiday season. Unfortunately, this has not been the case.

Each night I have gone to turn them on, something has gone wrong. Some nights I plug them in and nothing happens. Other times they come on but only momentarily, as if playing some cruel joke, and then go off again. Still other nights parts of the yard are aglow with luminous splendor while select trees and shrubbery remain stubbornly in darkness. Matthew and I spent about a week of this fiasco running extension cords to different outlets, hitting the reset buttons, and flipping breaker switches to no avail. But Saturday night was a turning point.

All of the outlets on the exterior of our house are what is called “GCI Protected”, which basically means if something goes wrong it automatically shuts off to prevent you from burning your house down. They are also connected to all the bathroom outlets, so whenever the Christmas lights go out, Matthew’s electric toothbrush doesn’t charge either. This, I believe, has been the added motivation needed to secure his assistance through it all.

Thinking that perhaps the rain had gotten into the exterior outlets, we tried running everything into indoor outlets without the GCI sticker on them. We plugged them in and viola! They worked! We had finally solved the mystery. It would be a hassle to have to unplug the washing machine every time we wanted to turn on the light display, but at that point I was just thrilled that they were on. Satisfied, I made a run to Wal-Mart and Matthew did some work at home. I returned about an hour later and regrouped with Matthew. As we chatted in the kitchen, we both stopped and looked around. “What is that smell?” Matthew asked, sniffing the air. We went to the outlet where one of the extension cords lay coiled around its plastic spool. The spool was melting. It wasn’t turning into a puddle of orange plastic, but it was warm and squishy to the touch. This was not good.

Needless to say, we have shut down the light display until further notice. Maybe it’s a faulty strand, or maybe it’s a bad connection. Maybe it’s electricity’s way of saying “Hey, crazy lady- scale it back a little!” In any event, we have a little more troubleshooting to do to solve this problem. Until then my house sits in Scroogely darkness, and the city of Phoenix power grid rejoices.

A True American Thanksgiving

The Pilgrims set anchor at Plymouth Rock on December 11, 1620. The Mayflower was overbooked and the Midnight Buffet had been a bit of a disappointment, so everyone was a little edgy when they arrived. They hadn’t pre-purchased any land excursions and the shopping looked pretty slim, so they got right to work setting up the colony. Their first winter was extremely difficult, especially because their electric blankets were not compatible with American power outlets. It was a long and cold season, and only about half survived.

But the harvest of 1621 was a bountiful one. And the surviving colonists decided to celebrate with a feast-including 91 Indians who had helped the Pilgrims to survive their first year. The Pilgrims had barely made it through the winter because they had great difficulty working the land and growing adequate food in the cold weather. The Indians, on the other hand, had lived through many winters and assisted the Pilgrims with their agricultural knowledge, survival skills, and abundant gaming revenue.

The feast lasted three days and was quite extravagant. The menu included wild fowl, boiled pumpkin, fried corn fritters, fish, berries, watercress, lobster, dried fruit, clams, venison, and plums, all of which were also available in a low-carb wrap. They spent days in preparation, and took many precautions to ensure the survival of the remaining colonists. Everything was prepared with zero grams of trans fat and the turkey deep-fryer was placed outside so as not to burn down the already tenuous settlement.

The meal was a wonderful time of enjoyment and community for both the Pilgrims and the Indians. To keep the atmosphere festive, they were careful to avoid potentially awkward topics of conversation like religion, politics, and Christopher Columbus. After the meal, everyone was stuffed. The men headed back inside to catch the big match-up between the Redskins and the Patriots, and the women, delighted that Starbucks was open on Thanksgiving, went out for Gingerbread Lattes.

The first Thanksgiving was a wonderful time had by all, and a tradition we all do well to keep.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Write About Jesus 2007

A Couple Cool Moments from Write About Jesus

It was Saturday morning and we were having a praise and worship time after breakfast. We were all singing our guts out to “Here I Am to Worship”, which is a song I’ve sung a hundred times, but this time the Spirit applied it in a new way. As I was singing I was able to say to God “Here I am, in St. Louis, at Write About Jesus, to worship. To worship by using my talents, by writing songs, by building relationships, by serving others.” We always talk about how worship isn’t just singing, but it’s a lifestyle. So it was really cool to connect the singing and the living in that moment, as God reminded me why I was ultimately there: to worship.

I had a moment this weekend that was potentially head-swelling, and I realized that as soon as it began. I sensed that it was a moment that would reveal to me a lot about where I was with the Lord and songwriting, so I was very attentive to how I would respond- not in action, but in my heart before God. So while this moment was happening, I began to pray that I would be faithful and have a heart-response that was glorifying to God. I thought I’d try to turn this blessing back to Him, so I started to thank Him for allowing me to write songs and for giving me this particular song. He promptly interrupted and spoke as audibly as he ever has to me (which isn’t audibly at all, it's just in my head). He said “It’s not about you. It’s not about the song, or even that I gave you the song. It’s about what that song says about Me. It’s about the truth, and it’s about My glory.” Instantly my prayer expanded, like a camera lens focused on a single blade of grass pulling out to reveal a sprawling countryside. My thoughts shifted from what God had done for me or in me or through me and I just starting praising Him for who He was and for the truth about Him in the song that was playing on the CD player.

A Few Things I Love about Write About Jesus

I love how nobody there dresses to impress. We’re all in tee-shirts and jeans and whatever we feel like. I love it that I can wear the same pair of jeans all weekend and not feel judged for it!

I also love how you never know a songwriter by the looks of them. I’m continually surprised! We had a winner that was in high school and a winner that could have been my grandmother. That is way cool.

I love being around people who really get me. I forgot how much I enjoy the company of several of the people there.

I love being able to feel things again. Seems like at home with the way life is, I just go and do and try to keep my head above water. It wasn’t until maybe Friday afternoon, but I remembered what it’s like to feel and to drink it all in. I plan to change that about regular life if at all possible.

I love writing songs, and if I want to keep loving writing songs, I need to make sure I only write songs because I love to write songs. If that makes sense to you, than you are SUCH a songwriter. :)

Amazing and Wonderful Matthew

Feeling very restless today. I get on a plane Thursday morning and head out to St. Louis for Write About Jesus, a songwriting workshop that I’ve attended for a couple years now (for more on that, check the archives. I think I wrote about it last summer). I don’t know if it’s having three kids this time around, or if it’s not having gone to Estes in August, but this year the thought of three and a half days away seems even more refreshing than in years past. I’m anticipating a great weekend of freedom and creativity and spending time with like-minded friends. Best of luck to the babysitting team that will be here at home, handling the three-ring circus while I’m gone.

I was talking to my friend Hayley on the phone a few minutes ago about the trip. She commented on how wonderful of a husband I have that he would enable me and encourage me to do things like this. I must say, she is quite right. Matthew is wonderful indeed.

A lot of folks have heard our crazy story of how we met and began dating, about how I ran and ran and ran and Matthew just pursued and pursued and pursued. It was pretty simple from my end. I didn’t want a boyfriend because I didn’t want a husband. From where I was standing at the time, seventeen years old and full of angst, getting married meant giving up your freedom, limiting your ministry, compromising your dreams, and possibly even losing your identity. Not interested, thanks.

A lot of that pursuing that Matthew had to do was actually convincing and proving. Convincing me that my view of marriage was perhaps a bit skewed, and proving his love for me was a love that would never want any of those things for my life. I was scared of losing myself, but he reassured me over and over again that he wouldn’t let that happen. He would protect me. He committed to support and even cultivate my passions and dreams, and he has more than lived up to that commitment ever since. Of course I gave up some freedom with marriage, and especially with having kids. But I know I’m more to this world than a dishwasher and diaper changer, and Matthew makes sure of it.

This weekend while I’m out basking in creative fellowship, he will be here, knee-deep in diapers, eating out of the freezer, and driven mad by toddler talk. He’ll have some help from the grandparents, but the majority of the burden will fall on him. So if you see him at church on Sunday and he looks a little frazzled, it’s because he is an amazing man and a wonderful husband who is fulfilling his promise to his bride. Feel free to tell him he is amazing and wonderful, and I will be sure to do the same.

If This Were the Mob, They'd All Be Goners

In a couple of hours we’ll be heading out to game 2 of the National League Division Series to cheer on the Diamondbacks. It’s been a wild ride on the MLB train thus far, and we expect nothing less from the post season. Should be a great game.

The problem with baseball was in my first sentence. I had originally typed “our” Diamondbacks, but quickly changed it to “the”. I wish I could say they were my Diamondbacks, but honestly, it’s tough to get to that level in our relationship anymore. I have trouble attaching, trouble bonding, to my home team because every year they are an entirely different group of guys. Just when you spent all season getting to know every player on the roster and his strengths, weaknesses, and quirks, they pull the rug out from under you and trade those guys like they all have “Upper Deck” embossed on their foreheads.

I think this is particularly a problem for female fans as we tend to get more interested and involved as we get to know the players and their lives. Once we get to know them, we grow pretty fond of them, and soon, we want what every woman wants: commitment. I want to know that when I turn on a game, it’s going to be relatively the same bunch of players that I know and love. I want to know that they’ll be there, year after year, ready to make another run at a championship. But at the start of every season, I have to deal with a flood of betrayal when I turn on the TV and see my favorite players wearing other team’s uniforms. It cuts like a slider down and in, I tell ya.

I don’t want to root for a name or a logo or a mascot. I want to root for people. It used to be an identity, what team you were on. You were a Cub or you were a Brave. But it seems now that the only thing that makes you a team anymore is wearing the same color. So I find myself adapting, trying to get behind the team without getting too attached. I end up rooting for players on all kinds of teams because they were Diamondbacks once. So I guess it’s okay. Not ideal, but what can you do? Buy your ticket, eat your peanuts, and hope the jersey you just shelled out $75 bucks for will still be good next season.

Go D-Backs!

A Little Laugh from Grandpa Lewis

This afternoon I spent some time on the Reader’s Digest website. I love Reader’s Digest, though I’m beginning to wonder if anyone else in their twenties subscribes to it. I just have a feeling that I’m not the target market for a magazine filled with ads for hemorrhoid creams and Medicaid. If you’ve spent any significant amount of time in a waiting room or sitting on your grandmother’s couch, you’ve probably at least picked up a copy of Reader’s Digest and maybe come across the monthly section they have dedicated to jokes submitted by readers. I went on the site today to submit some jokes for the section.

They weren’t my jokes. I’m terrible at jokes. They were jokes that Matthew’s late grandfather, Lewis, used to tell. Grandpa Lew died a little over a year ago back in Illinois. I didn’t get to know him very well because of the distance, but he was such a sweet, funny man. He had thick-rimmed black plastic glasses, bushy eyebrows, and one of those perma-grins that kind of says “I’m up to something”. I have to smile every time I see him in our wedding pictures, hunched over in his suit and tie and Sea World baseball cap. He was the kind of man that was always full of stories and music and of course, a timely joke.

I know Reader’s Digest is inundated with submissions so his jokes may or not be selected, but I think it would be so cool if his stuff were to be published. I’ll just have to wait to hear back from them, but in the meantime, here are a few clean selections from Grandpa Lew’s original jokes for your enjoyment.

-What kind of car would a missionary drive?
A convertible.

-Where do Tailors live?
On the outskirts of town.
Where should podiatrists live?
In the foothills.

- The wind was blowing so hard the other day that a hen laid the same egg 13 times.

-What expression must you never say when out hunting?
“I’m game.”

-This man worked for the circus and was shot out of a cannon. He went to the circus manager and said “I quit!” The manager replied, “You can’t quit. Where am I going to get someone of your caliber?”

-What do you call popcorn that has a lot of left over kernels?
Confederate popcorn

-What sound does a grape make when an elephant steps on it?
It whines.

-My wife was on a diet of coconut milk and bananas. She didn’t lose any weight but boy can she climb a tree!