Here We Go!

Seventeen years have passed since that warm summer evening to remember. We were kids, Ed and I - and not old enough to have learned that yet. We were young, in love (seriously), and eager for a Selma's ice cream cone to cap off the evening.



On our way, through the driver's side window as we cruised through Afton, the sun was setting through thick fog covering a wood-lined hayfield. Its glow sank in a hazy blur of purplepink. It was pure magic. And because we loved beauty, and because we loved metaphors, and because we were young and in love, we stopped the car.

In Faith, Through Thick Fog

Two kids hopped the fence
and, in total innocence,
ran without seeing.

Just because we could.
Just because it meant we would
run together through...

Life - no matter what.
Other side of fences "shut",
and smile, victorious.

Knowing, even then,
Someday, we would run again
in faith, through thick fog.

Here's to the sweet unfolding of another metaphor, part of the larger Story.

Pray if you do, as we 'run'... Thank you.

See you soon, as a family of 3! :-)


-1 Corinthians 13:12-13, The Message-

"We don't yet see things clearly. We're squinting in a fog, peering through a mist. But it won't be long before the weather clears and the sun shines bright! We'll see it all then, see it all as clearly as God sees us, knowing Him directly just as He knows us! But for right now, until that completeness, we have three things to do to lead us toward that consummation: Trust steadily in God, hope unswervingly, love extravagantly. And the best of the three is love."

5 Years Home

5 years ago, on March 26th, we moved into our newly-constructed home here in Hudson. I remember little things: putting Guff's bed in the corner of the master bedroom for the first time, romping barefoot on the new 'soft-touch' carpet, Martha buying kitchen-organization accessories, Kara doing the linen-closet...

Months before that, the night before the construction crew broke ground, family and friends had gathered to pray on the still-dirt-floor of what would later be the center our living room. I remember Ed leading out in prayer for our family, our pastors joining in, Wade asking for safety for us during long commutes to and from work...

My most vivid memory is of the very first morning waking up in our home, looking out our sunny bedroom window. I had never seen so many bluebirds in one place, congregating joyfully on the old fence separating our back yard from the horse pasture. And I had never been so sure I was home. In church later that morning, my eyes welled up with tears of gratitude.

Thanks, God, for the 'homes' you make for us, wherever we go. For the Home that will, one day, be the culmination of all that comforts us. And thank you for bluebirds; that has been an amazing touch.

Anniversaries

Ever find yourself pondering a certain memory throughout the day, then return to reality suddenly to discover it was the anniversary of what you were thinking about? That happens to me a lot.

Today it was thoughts of packing to go to the Bahamas with dear friends last year. I realized that's just what I would have been doing this time last year. Then, I thought back further and realized how many times I've been on trips during this particular week through the years... a lot. Guess I'm kind of programmed.

Feels interesting (in a good way) to be in nesting mode during what would typically be migration season. I wonder if this means Spring will spring early for me... ;-) Did anyone hear what Punksatony Phil had to say about his shadow the other day?

Superstitious

I find it ironic that good ol' Webster's has the following definition of 'Superstition' when, in most Christian circles (and perhaps other faiths), the word 'superstition' raises some red flags.



Superstition:

"(1) Any belief that is inconsistent with known facts or rational thought, esp. such a belief in omens, the supernatural, etc. (2) Any action or practice based on such belief."

Though Webster's folly here is a subject for a different post, I share the views of C.S. Lewis, Madeleine l'Engle, Donald Miller, John Eldredge and other Christian art-lovers who recognize the place of imagination and myth in deepening our knowledge of His mysteries; their power in revealing Truth at heart (not just head)-level. God help us when, for Christians, fact, logic and intelligence become enemies of story and imagination, and begin to mutually exclude one another. What drab and hidden lamps we then become...

That said, my intended post for today has nothing to do with faith-building myth, but rather, plain old superstition. (A distinction Webster's apparently can't make). As I sift through childhood, forming mental piles of what to pass on and what to leave within, I'm remembering some favorite superstitions I actually believed at some point during childhood.

NOTE: Don't blame these on my parents; they might have been responsible for some of them, but I can't remember where others came from! :-)

Vampires: Whenever a low-lying fog hangs across the road, a vampire has recently passed by.




Tomtens: Tomtens are a Scandinavian tradition. Helpful and protective, they are secretive peacemakers between farm inhabitants and the wiles of wild woodland creatures beyond. Brilliant in capturing snow-bound rabbit footprints and turning them into a source of unending childhood wonder.



Bears:Bears live beneath sidewalks. Didn't you know? If you step on a crack, you'd better watch your ankles!






Eating Before Prayer: Forget to pray over your sandwich? Better stick close to the bathroom because you won't be feeling well very shortly. Food rots in your stomach if you don't pray over it first.




Santa: And last, but by no means least, Santa, of course! At Grandma's, we kids would rush downstairs to the basement at the prompting of shooshing parents and aunts and uncles... Soon, we could hear the jingle bells, the reindeer hooves, and Santa's black, heavy boots in the kitchen hallway. It was never a problem that Grandma didn't have a fireplace; he knew her well enough to just come on in the front door. When he left? ALL the gifts were beneath the tree... SO fun!

Which ones will we keep? Well, I'd say anything overly fear-based is probably on the outs. That leaves at least two bearded guys... maybe a stray bear or so if I can't resist. :-) I have to say though... even with the fear-based beliefs, there was little long-term injury with years of childhood magic. What superstitions did you buy into as a young child? Are there any you didn't pass on, and why?

The Paradise of Grace

INVITATION
Speaking of gifts you can never pay back... In 2002, as Ed and I were healing from a tiring year of loss and illness, good friends asked us to 'rest up' with them for two weeks in the South Pacific. As this trip was 10 times beyond our budget (they desired to gift us), we thought briefly about letting our pride get in the way - but, thankfully, the fun factor won out. It strikes me that surrendering to Grace is a similar concept. Imagine it's you...

APPROACH
In a fluke collapse of all your good reasons and better judgment, you say 'yes' and find yourself floating above what has been made possible by someone else's sacrifice on your behalf. You can see it, but you're not there yet. It's a glimmering jewel in a priceless azure setting. As you descend toward it, tears well up when you realize you've done nothing to deserve this and can do nothing to pay it back. Yet, it is a reality. Try as you might, you simply cannot calculate the difference between what you've earned and what you're being given.

TRANSPORT
After all that's been done for you, surely it's only right that they would offer a canoe or a row boat for this final stretch. It's a short jaunt to your destination, and only fair you should have some part in working your way there. But 'fairness' is not the style of the giver. There's a padded speed boat with spectacular views from every angle. The driver honors you with wreaths of flowers. You are a VIP guest, your passage pre-paid by someone who's gone before you. And sweet air and sunshine brush against your face as you freely ride, propelled by an engine you do not own and cannot fuel.

WELCOME
On the dock, you are warmly greeted by beautiful smiles, warm washcloths for your face and sweet music for your spirit. Then, ushered up a manicured cobble-stone path into an exquisite, castle-looking enclosure where you are seated on comfortable couches and given a colorful, refreshing drink. Your luggage is carefully moved to the bungalow specially prepared for you while care is taken to learn your shoe size, food preferences and other unique details, to best accommodate your recreational and culinary needs. Someone is anticipating how you, specifically, might be offered gifts that lead to your maximum joy.

BELONGING
You are escorted to a luxurious bungalow where you find everything you've ever needed or wanted for rest and fun. A sliding glass door opens to a generous deck and you realize your dwelling is completely over the turquoise, 86 degree water. Through the glass floor beneath the coffee table, there are fish in every color waiting for you to come and play. There are no "NO JUMPING" signs - not that you can see, anyway. Instead of rushing by, the afternoon stretches out as you relax in the sun and discover colors in fish, shells and coral you never thought were possible. Large, friendly stingrays engulf you, and you feel no fear - only joy. You understand that this was created for you to enjoy. Your being able to revel in it was made possible by generosity you cannot afford. This fact makes you feel full - not obligated - because your benefactor takes delight in your fullness.

INHERITANCE
After a long afternoon of play, you explore your surroundings, looking out over the entire island from a specially-created niche at the top. Because there are so few inhabitants, it is as if this place belongs specially to you, in a way. And, in a way, it does - not because you earned it (how could you ever earn such a thing?) - but by the generosity of the giver. He has shared everything with you - what's his is yours, and he's held nothing back. You are there under his name and reservation, and he delights in freely giving you everything that's called 'his'... which IS everything, by the way.

Yes, there are limits to the metaphor (there always are). But it's pretty close, isn't it? What if the recipient were to hang her head in shame saying, "I'm just not good enough. I don't deserve this," cautiously tip-toeing past the bungalows, insisting on sleeping in a storage room for fear of angering the Giver? What would you say to her? Would you want to point that these concerns of hers were missing the point completely? How could you do this without adding to her shame?

Worse, what if she insulted the boat-driver, insisting on a canoe - and upon arriving, exhausted, demanded her heavy luggage, making multiple trips back and forth to the storage room. Tired from hauling her own baggage, crabby and joyless... because she feared the Giver instead of enjoying His gifts? Wouldn't you want to gently explain she's misunderstanding Him and he's dying to really have her KNOW him for who he is?

Worst... what if she never got on the plane in the first place? What if pride over-ruled the fun factor? I've been that slave. No more though... Where are you? Bungalow? Storage room? Watching others board the plane? Anyone wanna go on a trip?

F.K.A.

I had always admired Julies called by, 'Jules'; Rebeccas called 'Becky' or Christinas called 'Tina'. Alas, for me, a cute, girlie nickname was never to be...



It was my 17th birthday and, as I sat amongst my group of friends (who obviously had too much time on their hands) in the cafeteria of New Life Academy, I suddenly found myself at the center of a clown-fest. Complete with cake, balloons, singing, silly card-tricks... and 'Happy Birthday, VONDA SWINBORNE!!' written on the chalk board at the back of the room. I was honored and completely humiliated simultaneously - and will never forget the sweet generosity of my friends to celebrate me, even if it was TOTALLY embarrassing.

At some point in all the chaos, Steve Williams, the class Bono, strolled up to the chalk-board and erased the letters, 'V','N', then 'B','O' 'R', and an 'N'. He had no ill intent; Steve and I had been friends from grade-school and it was all affectionate. Nevertheless, my name was 'Oda Swine' (amongst friends and enemies) until the day I graduated.

Some people just have a knack for creating nicknames and making them stick. They deserve to be kicked. Hard. (JK)! ;-)

This isn't the only nick-name I've ever held; just the one with the best story. How about you? What are you 'formerly known as'? Who gave you your childhood nickname - and why?

P.S. Thanks to pw for the fun topic idea... :-)

Journey of My Hair

Time for a shallow, somewhat vain post... Each time I grow my hair out (once every few years at least), there's one particular day where it's FINALLY official: ALL strands of hair go back in the binder. No stragglies. Today, my friends, is that momentous day. Happy Pony Tail Day!


In celebration, thought it would be fun to explore the journey of my hair this past decade or so. At age 24, I discovered the joy of having a professional hairstylist - and have been making up for lost time ever since. People tease that my hair changes every time they see me; you be the judge...

On the Road Again...

My soul grows an extra pair of legs this time of year; I start to long for the road. Not in a sad, escapist kind of way; just a road trip. Still - what's up with that? Everyone else is 'home for the holidays'; I'm ready to gas up and fly. Here are a few creative ways I've satisfied this urge through the years:



WTRL Trips:

WTRL = "Where the Road Leads". You give yourself 5 and 1/2 hours, $200, and get behind the wheel. Choose a direction: right or left. And that's the ONLY way you turn. And you only turn when you absolutely have to ('T' intersection or 'exit only'). You don't change lanes. The point is to find the exact destination to which the lane leading out of your driveway leads - in 5.5 hours. Then find the nearest hotel, crash there, and explore a new neighborhood for the first time. Or a familiar one in a new way. I have yet to find my WTRL location from our Hudson house and am itching to do so.

Ocean Emergency Trips:

I've had a number of these via airplane. But the most desperate was the day after Christmas, 1998: a flight straight down I35 all the way to Galveston, TX arriving at 3:30 in the morning Dec. 27th. The beach was the only thing open, and my sleeping bag molded sweetly to its shape. 3 days exploring Galveston, its history and shops, feeling the sun on my face, running ecstatically beside the waves... I was refueled and ready to drive home again.

Drive Down Memory Lane Trips:

This is a trip with someone you know and trust. I did one with my sister this past summer. We drove through the valley where we used to play as children, which is now a housing development; the church we grew up in, now under construction - I got in mud up to my knees, insistent on glimpsing the parking lot. Then, we settled some old scores at our childhood camp near St. Cloud, reminiscing about how stuff used to be - and what things will never change. Afterward, I found my thoughts returning to that day, wishing I could re-live it in every detail.

What about you - any creative road trip ideas to share? If I like yours, I might put it to use soon...

Favorite Toys & Trends

As a continuation on yesterday's theme, here's the list of toys and trends I really 'got'; maybe you did too...



-Lite Brite
-Scratch 'n' Sniffs
-Legos
-Smurfs
-Caboodles







-Atari
-Hotwheels
-Viewmaster
-Koosh Balls
-Mr. Potato Head









-Pound Puppies
-Cat's Eye
-Etch-a-Sketch
-Spirograph
-Family Tree House









-Dukes of Hazzard
-Glo Worms
-Huffy Bikes
-Rubiks Cube
-Operation









-Pound Puppies
-Cabbage Patch Kids
-Karate Kid
-Matchbox Cars
-Knight Rider






What should we add to the list?

Toys & Trends I Never 'Got'

So, lately, I'm thinking about Eva being home next Christmas and the difference that will make in the number - and type - of gifts under our tree. That got me thinking about the toys and trend items that I might have gotten through the years... but just didn't 'get'. KnowwhatImean?


-Gumby
-Michael Jackson
-Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles
-ALF
-Monchichis








-Santa Bears
-Boy George
-Weebles
-Garbage Pail Kids
-Max Headroom








-Teddy Ruxpin
-Inspector Gadget
-Garbage Pail Kids
-Hans & Franz
-Hello Kitty








-Easy Bake Ovens
-Mullets
-Trolls
-Madonna
-He-Man









-Punky Brewster
-Barney
-Q-Bert
-Rainbow Brite
-Pee Wee's Playhouse







Tomorrow's list? Toys I DID get - and loved. How about you? What toys did you hope Santa would keep to himself?

Note to Eva

Last week, I promised - and here she is...! One of my less vocal committee members is a 13-yr.-old version of me; we'll call her 'TeenV' (a.k.a. "Bangs"). Despite the bangs, glasses, sweater, and a number of other less obvious issues, TeenV is actually a sweet, conscientious and remarkably intelligent little thing. And, since she had the honor of writing the first-ever note to my children (her future children), I'm honored to introduce her and give her a voice. Go, TeenV!! Her note (scrawled in turquoise pen with hearts over 'i's and bubble exclamation points on a ripped-out triangle of lined notebook paper), has somehow survived 20 years and 10+ moves, and surfaced recently in my bedside table. It reads:

"Kids,

This sounds pretty funny to me right now because I don't know who you are yet or even who I will marry yet, but anyway - Someday, I'm going to read this letter to you when you get sent to your room because of something that seems unfair or hurts a lot. Right now, I am SO upset! I'm 13 yrs. old and my mom has sent me to my room. I feel like such a dork! I was fixing some pudding for our family - me, mom & dad, Jeremy, & your Aunt Valene (that's weird!!) and I told Valene not to tell mom because it was a surprise. Well, you may or may not know this already, but little sisters are pains in the behinds & she told! ;-) I got mad and "accidentally" smacked her. So, here I sit in my room feeling miserable. Someday, I will be able to remember what I feel like now and help you!

I (heart) you! (heart on the bottom of the exclamation point).

Mom"

Well, hopefully 20 years has equipped me with some better parenting and conflict resolution skills - but we all start somewhere, right? Good job, TeenV, way to make a contribution! And, wow, you sure do know how to fix some bangs...

Ode to Tallulah

Ed and I go through cars like a ground squirrel in a bucket of tulip bulbs. Together, we put over 50,000 miles on our vehicles each year, and because we're on the go so much, our cars need to be dependable. When they stop being dependable, they're gone. Period. End of story. Here's what I believe to be the comprehensive inventory of vehicles in our history:



1. '81 Chevy Caprice Classic Wagon - "Tallulah"
2. Gold VW Golf
3. White VW Golf
4. Red Ford Escort
5. Gray Oldsmobile Achieva
6. Tan Honda Accord
7. Green Saturn
8. Green Jeep Grand Cherokee
9. White Mazda Protege
10. Red Honda Pilot
11. Brown Mazda Tribute

And we've been married 11 years.

I had crushes on the Accord and the Pilot. But the only car I've ever truly loved is Tallulah... my first. I had a surge of affection for her on my way home from work tonight so thought I'd share her story.

I inherited Tallulah from my parents - and she had a V8 engine (heart) that could have powered a freight train. 0 to 60 in no time flat (I tested this often). She was so long, she could spit in righteous disdain at the mere mention of a bus. I passed my driver's test with flying colors on the first try despite knocking over a cone during parallel parking - and I had the fat mean tester guy!

Tallulah faithfully transported us (and enough college paraphernalia to overwhelm 5 buses) through 5 years of 11-hour round trips between home and Indiana. Never once did she break down on us - even after the mechanic told us to take her slow over railroad tracks. And she handled treacherous Wisconsin blizzards with the trepidity of a Sherman tank. Her cracked windshield and rusty rump were a tribute to her feisty perseverance. In short: they don't make'em like that anymore.

After our wedding, Ed and I began to have cars of our own and, alas, it was time to part with our faithful friend. My little brother, Jeremy, inherited the family jewel... and her heart was true to the very end. As legend has it, Jer was pulling out of a parking lot one day when Tallulah's front half turned - but her back half couldn't follow. And despite the powerful rev of her still-purring V8, it was time for Tallulah to be laid to rest. I like to think she's been reincarnated somehow, her loyal pistons still giving life to some happy, speedster machine.

How 'bout you all? Have you ever really, really ever loved... a car??