Louis Armstrong - What A Wonderful World

the cutest video ever!

The community garden experiment

I may be a bit premature in blogging about this subject, but I am too excited to wait! I got an email from Mitch yesterday and he asked me what sized plot I would like in the Sunnyside Community Garden!

I'd called to get more info on the garden after seeing it advertised by a local church. Mitch said he'd put me on the list, that the ground was being tilled this week, and we'd go from there.

Mitch, of course, has no idea that I have no idea where to go from here. I've never grown anything edible, never canned, can just barely keep all my lovely flowers and lawn alive. But I have lots of friends with green thumbs--and I am volunteering weekly at an organic farm--so I should be able to figure this out.

So, about that plot size--I have no clue! So I called my good friend and neighbor, Val, and enlisted her as my somewhat reluctant gardening partner.

"Val, from looking at the other email addresses in this post from Mitch, it appears that about 12 other parties are interested in this community garden. The email says the area we can use is about 4500 square feet. So how much would you and I need for our little plot?"

Val, who can build/fix/figure out most anything, thought for a minute and then said, "20' x 20'?
See what Mitch thinks of that."

Then we chatted for a bit about what we'd like to plant. I get to bring starts from the farm where I'm working, greens, peppers, tomatoes, cilantro, onions. We both like green beans and carrots and Greg loves fresh peas. I wonder if there's room for corn? We might go walk around the plot today and pray over it this week.

I'm stupidly excited over this--my daughters think it's great and Nich, Lindsay's finacee, says his mom will drive over from Prineville when it's time to put up our bountiful havest. Apparently, she's the canning queen!

And I'm not sure now this would work, but I keep thinking it would be so fun to take some of our plant starts with us to Nulato, to share with our missionary friends--and also to contribute to Brother Bob's community garden. That would be a gift that would keep on giving!

Partners in Crime

Warming!!!! This is another silly blog about my crazy pets . . .

I'm getting used to coming home and finding the house in pet-induced shambles. Today was no exception !

This time, however, the animals took it up a notch. They actually worked in cahoots, pitting their little pea-brains together to commit a gruesome crime.

They stole--and ate--my chocolate!

Greg gave me a little box of chocolates earlier this week, a foretaste of what's to come on Valentine's Day (right, dear?). There were only four yummy candies in the heart-shaped box and I'd already picked out my favorite--the chocolate-covered caramel. I'd put the lid back on the box and left if sitting on the counter for easy access.

Bad idea! Sometime after I left for work today, Chairman jumped up on the counter and ate who knows how much butter before he noticed the box of chocolates. Being the curious, obnoxious kitten that he is, Chairman batted the box off the counter on to the kitchen floor--where he and Scout evidently figured out how to open the box!

When I got home from work, all I found was the empty box on the floor. The little brown papers that cushioned the chocolates were gone. The candy was gone . . . Scout slunk away guiltily as I scolded her. Chairman just yawned and licked his chops.

A search of the house showed that one--or both--of the pets had chewed up two of my chocolates (the ones with the fruity fillings) and spit them out on the carpet. The third, the choco-cream filled delicacy, was never found.

Moral of the story:

HIDE THE CHOCOLATE!

a coward's guide to witnessing

I've always had a hard time sharing my faith. After being totally traumatized by an evangelism program in our first ministry (read Death by Evangelism ), I decided I was not called to be an evangelist. I adopted St. Francis' motto as my own: Preach the gospel at all times, and if necessary, use words.

Yep, I'd just love on people until they asked why.

The problem was, nobody ever did . . .

Well, every now again again someone asked a question that opened the door for me to share my testimony. And it's never been difficult for me to tell others how Jesus rescued me and completely changed my life (my testimony). But as to sharing with another person the actual steps to salvation . . . I'd get the four spiritual laws confused with the five-finger exercise and then get completely turned around on the Roman Road. I never could bring myself to ask the question, "Do you know where you'd go if you died tonight?" And the thought of leading someone through a formulaic prayer made me shudder.

I'd studied all the salvation passages in the New Testament, and there just didn't seem to be a cut and dried method of making sure another human being connected with Christ.

But I had a very interesting experience this weekend. I went to a Women's retreat at the beach. I don't usually do Women's retreats, but I was asked to share my story and agreed to do it. Four of us shared out stories over the weekend, and I got to go last.

I've given my testimony lots of times, but I really felt the Lord wanted more than that from me. I worked in some jokes, a bit of our spiritual journey thus far, how we came to Cornerstone . . . but I still felt His prodding to keep seeking. There's nothing I love more than a good walk on the beach with Jesus, so I spent a lot of time just walking and seeking His direction.

On Saturday night, during a casual conversation, I spoke with someone who did not seem sure of her salvation. She'd been raised Catholic, and even though she'd been attending evangelical churches for a while, she was obviously missing something. So I shared my testimony with her, prayed for Jesus to come fill her heart, hugged her neck and went to bed pretty satisfied with the way the evening turned out.

The next morning, though, another woman who'd been in on the conversation told me she didn't think our new friend had connected with Jesus, that she was still stumbling around on the perimeters of Christianity, looking for a way to get in.

"Someone needs to close the deal," Kris said. "She doesn't know what to do next."

Kris never mentioned any names, but I got kind of defensive. I'd shared my testimony, I'd prayed a wonderful prayer over my friend, couldn't God take care of the rest?

But as I was getting ready for the morning session, going over my talk in my head, I felt the Lord's prompting to offer an invitation.

You've got a hot tub and the ocean right here, He reminded me. Don't forget the part about being baptized.

To make a long (but cool) story short, I obeyed and, after sharing my spiritual journey, I gave a very shaky invitation to the women to commit (or recommit) their lives to Jesus. I offered a simply explanation of the gospel, then asked them to join me in an impromtu confession of faith. I have no idea what I said, but I felt completely surrounded by His love as I prayed.

My friend did not respond that morning, but told me later she felt Jesus when I prayed. I'm not sure what that means, exactly, but hope to unpack that with her as we journey together on this amazing walk of faith.

As cool as that was, I kind of whined to God while I packed up my things: "Why did you make me do that--even mention the baptism thing? I was kind of bummed that no one responded."

You responded--you obeyed, the Lord reminded me.

Um, good point.

And who are you to judge what happened in their hearts?

Got it--I'm not responsible for the results!

I came home from the retreat actually excited about sharing my faith--and inviting others to join me in that journey. My prayer is to never miss an opportunity again (thanks, Christine!)

Want to come?

She said yes!

Lindsay got engaged this week!!!!!

Nich met with the parental units and got the thumbs up on Tuesday morning. He had me crying so hard I felt sorry for our waitress! He'd planned on waiting until Thursday to pop the question, but Tuesday was so beautiful he felt it the perfect backdrop for a proposal.

They drove to the top of Mt. Tabor and he totally surprised Lindsay--he handed her the ring atop a cuppie cake and asked her to marry him! She said yes, and it looks like we have another wedding in June. More details on that later!

I just wanted you all to share my joy!

the fellowship of suffering

I cannot remember the last time I had a full night's rest.

I suffer from periodic bouts of sleeplessness, but this last round has about worn me down. My typical night goes like this:

Go to bed between 9:30 and 10. Usually fall asleep in 20-30 minutes.

Wake up somewhere between 12:00 and 2:00 a.m.

Get up and take herbs, supplements, anything besides ambien to help me get back to sleep

After 1 to 2 hours of trying unsuccessfully to force myself back into slumberland, I cave in and pop the little blue pill.

And for the next 4 to 6 hours, I enjoy a drug-induced coma.

I get up, feeling spaced-out and exhausted, and drag myself through another day.

I think insomnia is where all insanity begins . . .

I've had words with the Lord about this. It just doesn't seem fair that He expects me to deal with the responsibilities and demands of the day when I cannot rest at night. All He ever says to me is that His grace is sufficient. After all, insomnia hasn't killed me yet (although driving while sleep-deprived can be more dangerous than driving under the influence of alcohol, so I pray for an extra measure of grace when I must drive after a sleepless night).

Last night, when I awoke at midnight, I knew immediately that I was up for the long haul. I went through my usual routine of taking natural sleep remedies. But I had a lot on my mind, and the longer I lay in bed, the more worked up I got. About 1:15, I threw in the towel and swallowed a sleeping pill. It usually takes about 20 minutes to kick in, so I opened my laptop and checked Facebook.

I read my messages and then noticed that two of my younger friends were on live chat. Surprised I wasn't the only one up at that ungodly hour, I asked them both why they weren't snug in their beds.

To make a long story short, they both had a lot on their minds, too. They chatted about their struggles, I shared a bit of mine, we prayed for each other and then all (hopefully) went to bed.

It was oddly comforting to find myself in the sleep-deprived fellowship of suffering last night.

Maybe I should start a group for Facebook insomniacs . . . .

after Thursday, I will blog about weightier matters

Whoa, you must be thinking. This lady's life is so dull that all she has to blog about are her stupid pets!

Au contraire. The Lord is moving so intensely right now that I cannot keep up wth Him. But whenever I try to sit down to write about what He's doing in my life, the demon-kitty jumps up in my lap. It's hard to think with his needle-sharp claws kneading my face and his buzz-saw purr in my ears.

Like he's doing right now. Aargh!

So, why don't you toss the cat? you are wondering. Oh believe me, I try. But as the song says, the cat comes back, with a packing peanut or rubber band dangling from its mouth, thinking I've just initiated a game of fetch.

Which I suppose I have.

I try desperately to type between fetches, before Chairman comes bounding back to my lap and drops his prize on my keyboard. He knows I'm a captive audience when I'm blogging. He's no dumb bunny. One day, he looked me right in the eye and stepped on the delete key . . .

Greg and I suspect that our kitten is a bit OCD. He really does torment us (mostly me) on a sort of a daily schedule:

7:00 a.m. The kitten gallops into the bedroom behind Greg when he brings me my morning coffee. He leaps into my lap and nuzzles my face with his snotty little nose, kneading my bare neck with his unsheathed claws. I attempt to simultaneously protect myself and drink my coffee without spilling it. I am not successful.

7:15 a.m. I get my Bible out and try to read. The kitten takes this as a cue to start the fetch game and scrounges up a packing peanut from somewhere in the house. I toss Chairman repeatedly from his perch atop my Bible and try to hide the styrofoam. But he always manages to find it and the game of kitten toss/fetch the peanut reumes.

7:30 a.m. I give up trying to read my Bible and head for the bathroom. Chairman follows me and shows intense interest in every step of my grooming process. He loves water--he's tried to join me in the shower more than once. I have to keep the toilet lid shut or Chairman will drink from the bowl. Today, he tried to climb into the sink to get a better look at my fascinating skin care regimen, but lost interest when he realized he could knock my $800 pair of glasses to the ground and play with them instead.

8:00 a.m. I flee the house and the demon kitten and head for work. When I arrive home that afternoon, Chairman is yawning innocently, perched atop whatever paperwork Greg left lying on the dining room table. I notice that the cube of butter I left out that morning has dwindled to an unappetizing lump and there are several dozen packing peanuts and other miscellaneous items strewn about the house.

If Scout could talk what tales she's tell . . .


But Chairman has a very important appointment with the vet this Thursday. He's getting tutored . . . and if you don't happen to be a Gary Larsen/Far Side fan, let me explain . . . he's having an operation that should nip some of his more agressive behaviors in the bud, so to speak.

We shall see. But for now, the kitten's ready for another game of fetch and I need to get him off the keyboard before he steps on the backspace but--------