Sarah Palin is my hero!

Today marks the 24th anniversary of "the accident." On August 30, 1984, our car was hit by a speeding logging truck and shoved into a fatal embrace with an oak tree. Greg and I each broke both of our legs (as well as sustaining many other injuries). Lindsay (3) and Danielle (5 mos), who were strapped into their car seats behind us, were miraculously unharmed.

Our four-year-old autistic son, Jonah, didn't fare so well. As a friend put it at the funeral, "Jonah fell asleep in his daddy's lap and woke up in his Father's arms."

Twenty-four years after that terrible event (which included me being cut from the car with the jaws of life), the wild pain has abated. We still miss Jonah a lot--we were telling funny Jonah stories with the family just last night. But in his absence, God birthed some new things in my broken, but healing, heart.

First of all, I have a deep longing for heaven. Before the accident, heaven was just "pie in the sky" to me. That "sweet bye and bye" seemed very far away. Since Jonah's death, however, a part of my heart resides in the heavenly places. There's a longing in my spirit, a groaning to be in my real home every time I worship. I can't sing songs about heaven without weeping. Not because I'm sad--I'm just homesick! Jonah's death opened my eyes to the truth that heaven is our real home. Everything down here is just passing away.

Secondly, I have a deeper appreciation for the sanctity of life. Life is a gift from God--even life that we deem sub-standard in our society. Too deformed, too slow, too old, too much trouble--we find so many reasons to snuff out that sacred spark. All life is precious to the Creator, though. Jonah's autism made life more difficult for us--and him--at times. But he was such a gift from God and his brief life touched so many people. And he continues to do so.

Which brings me back to my blog title. Sarah Palin rocks! Her list of accomplishments as a politician are impressive. But what impresses me most about Sarah is her character. She's a believer, a hard-working Alaskan woman, a mother of five. She loves to hunt, fish, snowmobile and eat mooseburgers. If I still lived in Alaska, I'm sure we'd be best friends :)

Did I mention that her last child was born with Down's Syndrome? Not only did Sarah choose to give birth to this special baby, she publicly thanked God for him! In an age where at least 60% of women who find out they are carrying a Down's Syndrome baby choose to abort, Sarah took a hard stand and did the right thing. And I know from experience that Trig will bless their family beyond their wildest imaginings.

So far, the biggest criticism I've heard about Sarah being McCain's VP pick is that she doesn't have any foreign policy experience. That can be quickly acquired, I would think. But what she does have--and what Obama is lacking--is the fundamental understanding that human life is sacred. Period. She has aligned herself with the very heart of the Creator on this issue--a very wise position, if you ask me.

I was blown away by a line from a movie (The Boys Next Door) several years ago. The gist of it was this: A nation's greatness is judged by how it treats its weakest members. I actually googled this phrase and found this sentiment has been echoed throughout the ages, from Aristotle to the present Pope.

And I'm pretty sure Sarah Palin would add her "amen" to that statement, too.

And there's probably no elections in heaven, but I think I know how Jonah would cast his vote . . .

The Help Stephen get from Sudan to the States project

This may be news to most of you, but Candyce met a young man while traveling about Africa last August. He's very special to her. I'll let her describe Stephen in her own words:

So, When I was in africa last summer, I had some incredible adventures and God taught me more than I ever could have asked for.
It was a time of complete and total trust and full abandon to his will, and because of that, it was one of the greatest summers of my life.

While I was in Sudan, I met a man named Steven. At first, I took not notice of him because I was tired, and frankly pretty bummed that my friend and colleague, Minju, was not able to come to the north of sudan with me because of visa issues.
But after awhile, Steven and I became friends (actually it all started when I had malaria and he pretty much saved my life).

Steven has been working with YWAM for 8 years, partly in Cairo, partly in sudan, and now he has the opportunity to come to the US.
He speaks 3 languages, and is very bright, and is one of the most Godly men I have ever met. He does what I do (staffs DTS' and takes them on outreach) he just does it in africa.
He has his visa to the states, but he still needs some money. He has about $400, but the plane tickets cost around $1800.
When he comes to the states, it will be to better his english, speak in churches. support raise, visit friends, plan for his future, and see me of course!

He has been planning this trip for awhile, and it is no small miracle that he got his visa on his first try at the american embassy in uganda.

I spoke with one of Stephen's colleagues from Sudan today. He verified that Stephen is a wonderful, godly young man who is trying to come to the States to become better equipped for his ministry in Sudan. I haven't met Stephen yet--but am looking forward to it--but I do know his father was killed during the Sudanese civil war. He was raised in poverty by his Christian mother, who encouraged him to follow after God with all his heart.

I believe he is doing so.

If you'd like to help Stephen come to the states--he'll be visiting us here in Oregon, as well as other bases and churches around the country--there are a few things you can do.

Numero Uno is PRAY!

Like Candyce said, it's a miracle he got his visa in the first place. Pray for funds to
come in, details to work out, connections to be made, etc. Mostly that God's will be done in Stephen's life. Secondly, you can donate to the cause. You can give directly through http://www.ywamcolorado.org/. Click on the "donate" button and click on "other" for where you want the donation to go. Then type in "Sudan--Stephen". I was assured by Stephen's colleague, Michael, today that all donations will go toward a plane ticket for Stephen. And
be tax deductible for you!

Or, you can buy something from one of my etsy shops. All sales proceeds that come in the next two weeks will be donated to the Stephen fund.
My vintage stuff is at: http://www.strantiques.etsy.com/ and my journals are: http://www.sparrowtracks.etsy.com/. It's not tax deductible, but it's more fun :)

Thanks so much for your prayers and support on his behalf! This feels like the beginning of a very big God-adventure to me . . .

staging . . .

Greg and I have been on a mission to sell our house and move closer to Gresham--where his new ministry is located. All summer long, we've worked feverishly to get our house ready to put on the market--put in new deck and lattice around the pool, stained the older part of the deck, landscaped, patched and painted, decluttered rooms . . .

One day our real estate agent (and friend) Wayne, came over and showed us how to stage the place.

"Put away all personal photos--people want to be able to picture themselves in a home," he instructed. "Take everything off the fridge, and take down half of all other decor around the house. Simple is attractive." He pointed out a few spots in my house that weren't as alluring as they could be. It was quite enlightening to see my house through another person's eyes.

The staging of my house was much harder for me than any of the yard work or repairs we'd made. I'm a collector of way too many things. I'm a starter of projects that will never be completed (seriously, I've hauled an antique chair all over the country--I've had it for nearly 20 years--intending to someday re-cane the back so it's usable. It's still sitting in my garage, gathering another layer of dust). I have two on-line businesses which require lots of space and create unending messes.

But I started "staging" with a vengeance, and now I like my house so much I don't want to move :) Actually, Greg and I sat down and crunched the numbers (I don't really know what the phrase means, but I've always wanted to use it) on a property we liked and discovered that we would be paying $500 a month more for a house worth a lot less than ours.

Who knew? I guess we'll just be a part of the Happy Valley crowd until the real estate market picks up a bit.

But Wayne, I have to tell you, the concept of staging has changed my life! I feel like I'm in a new house now--it's so uncluttered and simple (compared to what it used to be). I'm selling stuff I haven't used in years on ebay and Craig's List--and giving it away with great gusto. I'm slowly bringing order out of the collective chaos I've created.

Greg, of course, is thrilled to see his home becoming organized and streamlined. My daughters have given me the thumb's up--Danielle even said my living room looked like something out of Simple magazine! And I didn't do a thing to the room except remove clutter--and spiff it up a bit with orange and yellow paint.

Now I just have to resist the temptation to start buying stuff that matches my new, simpler look . . .

Going for the Gold

My dear husband made me stay up way past my bedtime this week to watch Michael Phelps take the gold yet again at the Olympics.

"Honey, you're seeing history being made!" he informed me, annoyed at my yawning lack of enthusiasm.

I don't have a competitive bone in my body so the whole "wide world of sports" has always been a puzzle to me. I don't have the least bit of interest in who won the Superbowl this year or how many Trailblazers were arrested last month. Ducks and Beavers are just cute little critters to me. My eyes will glaze over if you try to talk to me about sports.

I may try to feign interest, but I just don't care.

This could stem back to the days when I was a painfully shy fifth grader, all thick glasses and chubby legs. Even though I was afraid of the ball, had NO hand/eye coordination AND was practically legally blind, my dad decided I needed to play softball.

All I will say about those dark days is this: I was the worst player on the team and he was the coach. The experience scarred me for life.

Anyway, back to the Olympics. There are certain events I enjoy watching--gymnastics, for instance. I personally think swimming is boring to watch, but it's really cool that Michael Phelps won so many medals and set new world records. What I don't like is that fact that he's become an instant superstar. Our national super hero in a speedo.

And all because he can swim really fast. I mean, in the eternal scheme of things, does that really matter? Will anyone remember his achievements ten years from now? Like Paul wrote to Timothy back before the Olympics were televised: "For bodily exercise profits a little; but godliness is profitable for all things, having promise for this life that is now and also the life that is to come." (1 Tim. 4:8)

Have you ever noticed that God is utterly absent during the Olympic games? It's all about human achievement--what we can accomplish. Never mind that He created our incredible bodies and amazing minds! The glory of the gold dims for me when the Lord doesn't receive the credit due Him.

Don't get me wrong. I cheered when Phelp's team won the relay the other night. He worked hard and deserves his medals. But I give all glory and honor and praise to the Maker of heaven and earth-the Creator of Michael Phelp's very fine-tuned--and finite--body.

"You are the Lord, the famous One, the famous One, great is Your fame in all the earth . . ."

Hikes I Like

As I mentioned in my last blog, I love to hike! In fact, my idea of the perfect date is a hike with my beloved husband (and my spazzy little dog, Scout). We'll pack a light picnic--usually crackers and fruit, red wine and aged cheese--and head for the hills. Or the beach. Or the Gorge.

That's the beauty of the Pacific Northwest. There are so many wonderful trails to choose from!

I think, if pressed to pick my favorite hike, I would have to go with the Mirror Lake/Tom, Dick and Harry Ridge trail up on Mt. Hood. It's a moderate 5.2 mile round trip hike, but there are so many things I love about this trek! For one thing, you reach Mirror Lake after 1 1/2 miles of lovely switchbacks, and on a clear day, you have a stunning view of Mt. Hood. Hike around the lake, and you get a visual double-whammy--the majestic peak mirrored in the alpine lake. You can fish, swim, camp or just catch your breath at the lake. It gets a little steeper going up the ridge, but the payoff at the top is worth it. On a clear day you can see five different mountains from the ridge: Mt. Hood, Mt. St. Helens, Mt. Ranier, Mt. Adams and Mt. Jefferson.

We usually save our picnic for the ridge--it motivates us to push on through the more rigorous part of the trek!

Greg and I hiked this trail a few weeks ago, and there's a patch about halfway between the lake and the ridge that was so strewn with wildflowers it took my breath away. We were came around a bend and Mt. Hood sprang into view, glorious as always. But it was the extravagant array of color that stopped me in my tracks. I felt like God had rolled out the red carpet for us that day! Lupine and Indian Paintbrush, bluebells and trillum, arnica and wild roses--and there were so many I can't even name!

Another plus--there are oodles of huckleberries to pick in the fall. And you can snowshoe up to Mirror Lake in the winter. Mt. Hood doesn't look too shabby with its winter coat :)

For trail in the Gorge, I'd have to say Angel's Rest is my top pick. It's just 4.6 miles long and deemed "moderate" in my hiking book. There are some fairly steep spots--you get a workout--but there are lots of scenic places to stop along the way. Again, I love the payoff at the top--there's an amazing outcropping of rock where you can sit and picnic and enjoy a panoramic view of the Columbia River gorge. And when you get back down to the parking area, Multnomah Falls Lodge is just a few miles down the road. I've developed a real addiction to their soft-serve ice cream!

This week I hiked another favorite--the Silver Falls loop (not far from Salem). The only drawback to this trail is the fact that dogs aren't allowed in the lower Canyon--which is where most of the waterfalls are. You can do either a 5 or 7 mile loop and enjoy waterfalls, wildlife and rainforesty flora. Our big adventure on this hike was watching a small garter snake drag a very large mouse up the side of a steep hill.

If you live in the area and like to hike, I lead an "Extreme Women" hiking/fishing/snowshoeing group you might be interested in. We usually meet on the first Saturday of the month and enjoy the great outdoors together. I keep a blog fairly updated about upcoming events. www.scoutspals.blogspot.com (it's listed as Extreme Womens Events under my links). You'll probably find pictures and links to the hikes mentioned above.

If you have a favorite hike I've not mentioned, I'd love to hear about it! Leave me a comment if you'd like!

(Pictured are Danielle, Candyce and me at the Silver Falls trail)

I like to hike

I grew up in Kansas, the flattest place on the planet, and didn't have a clue about the joys of hiking until we moved to Alaska. I took walks when we lived in California, but there's a distinct difference between walking and hiking. A wrong turn on a walk results in having to ask the nice lady out watering her lawn for directions home. A wrong turn on a hike could result in a supper of bark and pine needles and a chilly night in the company of wolves.

I experienced my first real hike in Alaska. In the Great Land, hikers apparently don't believe in switchbacks. That would make things too easy. No, the trails pretty much run right up the side of the mountain you happen to be climbing. I've hiked all over the state--from the Yukon to Kodiak Island to the Anchorage area--and it's always the same. Straight up you go.

I thought I was in decent shape when my friend asked me to hike a paltry two miles to the top of Bird Ridge, which overlooks Turnagain Arm. But only 1/2 mile into the hike, I thought I was going to die. My lungs screamed, my legs cramped, my water bottle was empty. My sudden interest in Alaskan wildflowers gave me an excuse to stop and catch my breath every five minutes or so and prevented my early demise. My friend wasn't even sweating when we reached the top of the Ridge. She runs even steeper trails on a regular basis--just for fun!

But I was hooked--the views from the Alaskan heights I scaled were a fair trade for the pain. And every trail led to adventure. Once, I took a group of gals from Campus Crusade (they were spending the summer in Anchorage) on a hike to the top of Bald Mountain. I'd only lived in Alaska for six months, but was already a self-proclaimed fishing and wild-life guide.

"Look at these bear tracks," I said, pointing out some very large prints with the toe of my hiking boot. "Looks like a grizzly to me."

My hiking buddies were impressed with my knowledge, which made me all the more dangerous.

"And that's fresh bear scat," I announced, poking at the steaming pile with my hiking stick. Suddenly, I felt a frantic tapping on my shoulder.

"Is that a b-b-b-bear?" one of the women squeaked.

I looked up to see the rear end of a very large brown bear. He was standing upright, stretched to his full height, investigating something in a nearby tree. We'd just come up over a ridge and were probably about 200 feet away from the bear. I momentarily thought about getting my video camera out of my pack and filming the griz, but my saner instincts kicked in and I motioned to the ladies to turn around quietly and head back down the trail. Glancing nervously over our shoulders, we silently hoofed it all the way down the mountain.

Yep, we'd cheated death again.

The biggest fight Greg and I ever had involved a hike. One night after church, my best friend and I decided to climb Flat Top Mountain. It was a sunny summer evening and we knew we could be up and back before midnight. Greg thought we were getting too late of a start, but I whined and he gave in, so Kristy and I drove excitedly across town to the trailhead.

We parked and scrambled up to the summit in record time. We took in the amazing view for a few moments--the Chugach Mountains on one side and Cook Inlet on the other, and then trucked on down the trail. We got back to our car quicker than we expected, but then hit our first snag of the evening--a flat tire.

I found the jack and Kristy went to work on the lug nuts--which were completely stripped. Defeated, we sat in the growing dusk by the side of the road and prayed for God to intervene. As if in answer, a very beat-up old van rumbled to a stop next to us.

"Janie, get out there and give 'em some elbow grease," a man's voice bellowed from inside the dark van. A young girl leapt from the passenger seat and ran to our rescue.

Janie was strong for her age, which looked to be about 11. Her dad barked instructions from the driver's seat, but those lug nuts didn't budge. The midnight sun was setting, so Janie's dad asked us if we wanted a ride back to Anchorage. The road was deserted by this time, so we reluctantly acceped his offer.

I could probably write a book about that fateful ride, but I'll just relate the highlights. For starters, the windshield was so cracked and dirty that you needed x-ray vision to see through it. And the van's starter needed some coaxing--Janie's dad had to let it roll down the mountain for a bit and then popped the clutch. Thankfully, the engine sputtered back to life.

"Old Blueberry's got her quirks, alright," he told us, stroking her dusty dashboard. "But she just keeps going . . ."

We found out on that long ride down the mountain that Janie's dad "recycled" for a living. Meaning, he picked up everyone else's garbage and turned it into cash somehow. The back of the van, I mean Blueberry, was filled with his day's discoveries. He'd even managed to fit part of an airplane wing in his vehicle. I know, because every bump Blueberry hit sent the wing tip slamming into my back.

I am not making this up.

Since we lived on the opposite side of Anchorage, I asked our rescuers to just drop us off at a nearby friend's house. We woke them out of a dead sleep, but they graciously let me use their phone to call and wake my husband. Greg was pretty cranky when he showed up at 1 a.m. to fetch us. He was even crankier when he realized I'd left the pink slip in the glove compartment of the car--which was all the way back at Flat Top Mountain. I think the sun was coming up by the time we got to bed that night. And I'm pretty sure Greg didn't speak to me for days . . .

Next blog, I'll list my favorite hikes. They don't all end in near-disaster!

(that's Lindsay in the picture, atop Tom, Dick and Harry ridge in Oregon)