Off We Go!

I’m so excited I cannot sleep, although sleeping would be a good idea, as I am getting up at 2:00am!

We are leaving for Europe – London, Paris, and Rome. Just the two of us. Just for fun.

I used to say that I “never really went anywhere,” but in the last few years I managed to get to China (adoption of Daughter Two), and then to Hawaii (25th anniversary splurge). And now I am headed to Europe. Who would have thought?

They say that travel is broadening and I imagine that “they” are right. Of all the really cool things we saw in China, the thing that stands out most to me is how much it really is the same as home. Families enjoying a Sunday out in the same park where we enjoyed the street musicians, carnival rides, and cotton candy. Business people rushing home after a satisfying day at work, hurrying to grab a few precious hours of family time and relaxation before turning in. It occurred to me that, almost without exception, everyone in the world wants the same thing: to be safe, to be loved, to be useful, and to become the best of whoever they are inside. And they want these dreams for their children as well.

I always knew this; I just saw it more clearly when I went to China. I saw that, in spite of spicy eel-back meat and green bean popsicles, it is exactly the same as home.

Now I’m off several thousand miles the other direction. As I take in Westminster Abbey, the Louvre, and Vatican City, I imagine that I will rub shoulders – and exchange smiles with – a whole bunch of people who speak, eat, and dress differently than I do, but who are, in all important ways, exactly the same!

Blooming

My Mother can make any houseplant bloom and grow. She has no magical "southern exposure" window, no secret-recipe fertilizing compound, no training in botany. She simply has a green thumb.

This has been a family legend for years. Once, while doing a super-tidy in my home when my parents were on their way to town, I tossed out a mostly-dead, very ugly houseplant. It had been hanging on by a thread - well, more literally, by about two straggly leaves! - for some time, and I was tired of trying to make it happy, so I tossed it in the trash.

My parents arrived. Inevitably, my mother opened the trash can, saw the discarded plant, and retrieved it. We joked about the poor little thing, and she tucked it away with her belongings.

Six months later I was visiting my parents' home and noticed a new plant - a large healthy, dark green bushy thing sporting small white flowers. "Nice plant," I commented, "Where did it come from?"

"Your trash," my Mother replied, just a bit smugly.

Now, this post could be about our throwaway society, and how we need to repair and nurture, not toss out - a subject upon which I am passionate - but this post is simply about my houseplants.

A few years back my Mother gave me several little leaves she had plucked out of her African violets. She instructed me to place them in water until they rooted, plant them, and then eventually they would grow into beautiful blooming African violets. (I think the key word here is eventually.)

This seemed like quite a bit of work for such a small reward, especially since a person can purchase an African violet - in bloom - for about 5 dollars. But, she is my Mother, so I followed the instructions. Sure enough, the bottom of the leaves grew little hairy roots. I carefully planted them. They didn't do much for some time, but then quite suddenly the leaves multiplied and the plant began to look like something.

Now, 3 years into this project, the first pink blossoms are appearing. I have to admit that it is very satisfying to have grown it from a leaf. Just like it is more pleasing to bake a loaf of bread than to buy one, and more fulfilling to knit a sweater than to purchase one. And, everyone knows that it is much tastier to grow a tomato than to pick one up at the store! It is good to be part of building something beautiful. All it takes is a bit of time and a willingness to work. It all turns out eventually.

Blueprints

Our sweet neighbors were burnt out of their home many weeks ago. It has been so many weeks ago now that we on the street are puzzled at how quiet it is over there.

Following the fire, our little street was a beehive of activity: fire trucks & fire engines, aid cars, the fire chief's own vehicle, Red Cross representives, animal control, and someone from the city whose purpose I never did learn. As afternoon eased into evening on that crazy day, the parade continued: the fire department showed up every hour or so to keep an eyes on things, the police rolled by every so often, the insurance company sent a contractor to board up the windows, and then, just as things got quiet, an alarming number of dog walkers and joggers stopped to gawk as they "just happened to be passing by" our tiny deadend street. Over the next few days and weeks, investigators, adjustors, and salvagers came and went.

What a circus!

But now, it is quiet. It has been almost 12 weeks since the insurance company made the decision to have the house demolished and rebuilt. It has been at least 6 weeks since anyone has attempted to enter the burnt-out shell for any reason...unless you count the family of boisterous raccoons that had to be evicted.

I expected the demolition and rebuilding to begin in May, but nothing happened. June and July passed; it is now the middle of August and there is no sign of activity.

I asked the family what was happening, and was puzzled by the answer: they do not wish to bulldoze the house until they have a complete plan for the new one. They acknowledge that any plan for a new home will include demolishing the old house and clearing the property, but they cannot quite bring themselves to start this process until they know exactly how it will all end. The old house is worthless, but they cling to it because it is here and it is known; the new house - as beautiful and useful as it will be - is not yet visable.

If someone were to ask my advice - alas, no one has! - I would saythis: "Let it go and let God give you more than you imagine."

When I was 15 years old I met a young man and immediately fell in love. We were just good friends for years, and began dating unexpectedly when I was a senior in high school. We were obviously too young to be serious, but I knew in my heart he was the one. A few happy years passed - we stumble into our fledgling adulthood, a part of a supportive group of young Christian friends, still dating regularly, but not really considering the future. Then, suddently, we broke up. I never really understood why, and I don't believe he did either.

I was stunned, and immediately started bargaining with God about the whole thing. In all my 19-year-old wisdom and maturity, I explained to God how this young man and I could do great things for God if only He (God) would arrange for the other he (my young man) and I to get back together. I had a plan. I have always been good with plans.

God did not rise to the challenge of fulfilling my plan, which surprised me at the time. After several weeks of wrestling with God over this issue, I found myself on my knees - actually, flat on my face - acknowledging that God was God and I was not God - now, there's a revelation! - and that I would serve Him no matter what He chose to do or chose not to do in my life. After the darkest night my young soul had known, I let that young man go. Just let him go.

The story has twist...we will celebrate our 27th wedding anniversary this week. :)

Although the growth has been irradict, I have, over the years, gotten much better at letting God make the plans instead of just trying to get Him to approve mine. I am learning to let him clear away the old things and start rebuilding the new even before I know all the details.

More on this later.

Camping

As was promised, we went camping for a few nights last week. It was - as camping always is - an amazing procession of packing and loading the car, unpacking and setting up the campsite, repacking and reloading the car, and then unloading, unpacking, and putting everything away again. Daughter One was a bit surprised, I believe, at the sheer volume of the movement of objects that camping entails.

Between us, Daughters One & Two and I set up camp. We brought the tiny tents so that (not having the Amazing Husband/Father along) we could set them up independently. Daughter One took charge and made a nice sleeping compound with two tents and a tarp. Very charming and cozy...we were warm and snuggly even the night of the thunderstorm, lol. I set up the kitchen, out of which we all enjoyed a steady stream of snacks and meals.

It turns out that we were the only family truly "camping." Each of the other families turned up in amazing motor homes outfitted with all the conveniences of home. Sorry, guys, if you are reading this, but you have to admit that you looked pretty funny...a stately parade of huge, portable homes, perched primly along the campsites, filled to the brim with happy campers "roughing it."

Camping was great fun! Despite her initial skepticism when she saw we didn't have a "house" like the others, Daughter Two loved tent camping. Despite her worries that there would be no one her age, Daughter One had a great time swimming and goofing around with the other children. Highlights for me included solving the mysteries of the camp stove and rowing assorted children around the lake in a canoe.

I can ramble on and on about our pleasant camping trip - indeed, I seem to be doing so! - but I really do have a point. Here it is:

On the second night of camping, all four families ate together. It was so tasty - satisfying in the way that only good food eaten outdoors after a day of activity can be. There were melt-in-your-mouth steaks, beautifully grilled, and fresh sweet corn on the cob, perfectly steamed in their husks. We brought our offering - red grapes and a box of chocolate cookies, and laid them on the groaning board. Both were much welcome, especially by the children, but as I looked at my grapes and cookies, I smiled at their modesty. I had brought them because they were what we had.

Now, as nice as grapes and cookies can be, they are not in the same league as grilled steak and fresh corn on the cob. This reminds me a bit of my relationship with God. When you think about it, what I am and what I have to offer God, compared to who He is and what He has to offer me, is ridiculous! And yet, when I bring to him what I have...my talents, my treasures, my time, He, in return, provides for me abundantly. I am invited to feast upon the steak and corn He brings, not only upon the grapes and cookies that I have provided. God is not "fair" and "just" in the way we think of these words. He is generous and forgiving, loving and giving to a degree that we can barely perceive.. He gives over and above. Always. Just because He loves me. Wow!

Knitting Lesson

I have been knitting quite a bit the last few years and I've decided that it is really good for me! I have never been a person known for her patience, but knitting has created a calmness and determination that tends to promote at least the illusion of patience in my life.

No matter how fast (or slow) I knit, no matter how even (or crooked) my stitches are, no matter how simple (or complex) the pattern I choose, all my knitting shares this one trait: I can only knit ONE stitch at a time.

I am a multi-tasker at heart. I can - and generally do - have several things going on at once. I bake bread while scrapbooking. I do laundry while I garden. I always have 3 or 4 books by the bed, and I generally read a bit from all of them each day.

When I was very young - and a bit stupid - I once multi-tasked changing clothes while driving over Snoqualmie Pass. (I don't recommend this.)

It is easy to do something else while knitting, as long as the "something else" does not require the use of one's hands! Frankly, knitting would probably make me crazy if I couldn't listen to a CD, help with homework, and/or hold up my end of a lively conversation while doing it! But still, no matter how many things I can juggle at once, I still cannot knit more than one stitch at a time. one - stitch - at -a - time. And a project may have tens of thousands of stitches.

So knitting slows me down a bit. It reminds me that little things can eventually add up to something worth noting.

The photograph shows a purse and beret set I made for a beloved young niece. I could have purchased a hat and purse and saved myself dozens of hours of work, but I like the idea of creating a gift one loving (and somewhat patient) stitch at a time. It adds up to something.

Camping

I am currently getting ready to take the girls camping for a few days. Michael will stay home and "relax" in between working, commuting, and refinishing the deck.

It is a huge job to get ready to camp. My to-do lists are cross-referenced, scribbled in the margins, and being continually updated.

It is taking more time to get ready for this camping trip than we will spend on the trip.

As I prepare to basically move housekeeping outdoors a hundred miles away, I keep thinking of my grandmother, who started life in the "good old days" of wringer washers, flat irons, wood stoves, and kerosene lanterns, but lived to see all manner of modern conveniences.

I don't know why I keep thinking of my grandmother today. Maybe she is giggling away in heaven, observing that tent camping - basically leaving home to work harder than usual just to survive - is a rather odd hobby.

But she was a good sport, so she might think that the star gazing, hiking, swimming, and sitting around the campfire roasting marshmallows would render the effort worthwhile.

Update on a Sunflower

This is the sunflower I mentioned in my first blog.
It was the first in the garden to bloom, and is now
starting two more flowers further down the stem.

It is still staked with a bamboo stick and a length of fuzzy white yarn, but it does not actually need this support any longer.

Makes me smile!

My Girls

Just to add a bit of visual to my comments...the beautiful smiles shown in this photograph belong to Daughter One (15 years old) and Daughter Two. (almost 4)

Daughter One sings, dances, and giggles like an angel on holiday. Her next goal is to drive. (dream on, kid!)

Daughter Two draws, dances, and is planning to be a princess when she grows up. (She practices daily.) Her next goal is to be allowed to take tap dance as well as ballet. (one more year!)

Laughing at Myself

I do not think of myself as a vain person - especially about my physical appearance - but I just had to share this.

Yesterday I was in a supplements store with a friend asking for help in selecting a new multi-vitamin. A knowledgeable employee showed me 3 or 4 options, explaining the benefits of each. Then she picked up one more, frowned as she put it back and said, "That would be a good one eventually, but it will be years before you will need it." She left to help other customers.

Curious, my friend grabbed the rejected multi-vitamin and started laughing. It was labeled for women ages 50 and up.

"Years" before I qualify? Try 51 weeks.

Yup, I walked on air for hours after that one...I'm not above a bit of flattery!

Pinching Back the Basil

The basil looks great.

Weeks ago, when the basil plants were so small that I could easily count every tiny leaf, I pinched off a few precious leaves here and there to encourage the plant to branch out and thicken. It was hard to make myself pinch the plants back – it seemed as if I was taking away so much of the plant, and that I was wasting the potential of the removed leaves that would never have a chance to grow large.

Of course, the pinching back was necessary. If I had not forced the plants back, they would never have grown to be so generously proportioned. These plants are huge and thick; some of the fragrant leaves are 4 inches long and 2 inches across! Every day I pick basil for our summer meal preparations, but the supply never seems to diminish. At the end of the season, there will still be enough basil left to put up several batches of pesto for this winter’s pleasure.

I feel a bit like that pot of seedling basil, sporting more potential than leaves, because God is always pinching me back. I am perfectly happy being my rather small self – thank you very much! – but God desires that I become more, so He pinches back my leaves, and removes little parts of me. Sometimes the things he asks me to prune back seem just a bit too much - WAY outside my comfort zone, but as He prunes He encourages me to branch out in new ways. In time, this always happens.

I cannot honestly say that I enjoy the pinching back, but I do enjoy the result: a stronger me that is of more use to myself, to others, and to God himself.