Ten years ago...

I woke up in a different world ten years ago today.  My bed was wobbly beneath me, a gentle rhythm that I would quickly get accustomed to.  My new home was a 520 foot long hospital ship that I shared with 400 other people.   I woke up that morning on the bottom bunk, surrounded by strangers who would quickly become my sisters.  Jet-lagged and a little unsteady on my feet, I set about exploring my home for the next three months.  I remember stepping out on deck and the air just felt so different, let alone the smell of it.  My eyes scanned the horizon and all was unfamiliar; large ships, hundreds upon thousands of containers, small fishing boats and the ocean beyond.  A ship in port is not even remotely glamorous.  It was almost too much for me to take in.

I've spent much of the afternoon looking through old pictures and being flooded with memories of my time in Cotonou, Benin with Mercy Ships.  To label it life-changing is certainly appropriate, but doesn't even begin to cover it.  It was the hardest 6 months of my life, but also some of the absolute best.  Mornings were spent worshiping and soaking in the teaching of some of the greats that YWAM had to offer. I spent my afternoons scrubbing the toilets and showers, mopping floors and polishing wood on really loooong corridors.  It was good hard work that provided lots of opportunity to think.  And there was always much to think about. Evenings were long, but soon filled with new friends, a modest library, 10pm laundry slots, dance lessons on aft deck and exploring small parts of the city.

Fast forward three months to our Outreach Phase and the world tilted once again as I fought to be content in every circumstance.  Some days I won, a lot of days I lost.  But He was faithful to me in a way I didn't know I needed Him to be during those long days in the village.  We poured ourselves out and dealt with more then a little resistance to His Word.  Everyday tasks were a challenge, a burden.  I wish I would have learned to accept it and move on a little faster, but eventually I did.  I embraced the dust and dirt on my feet 10 seconds after washing them.  I loved the quiet nights of sleeping on the roof and the sky full of a million stars.  Buckets of mangoes and fresh bread filled our bellies and His Truth and His Spirit sustained us.

I'm not overstating it by saying that I wouldn't be who I am and where I am today without the time I spent with Mercy Ships/YWAM.  He asked a small town country girl if she trusted Him. And then He took her about as far away as you can get from the world she knew.  But He knew what He was doing.

God expanded my vision and stretched my heart to capacity.  He cracked it open for the people and places of Africa. He loved me that much, to orchestrate such a wild plan and show me more of Himself then I ever dared to ask for.  He laughed when I said I'd never return because He already knew about the boy who would capture my heart and call me Mama.  He who knew that my first trip to the continent wouldn't be my last and in fact, pieces of it would stay with me forever.  It's an amazing story, really.  And I think He's just getting warmed up.

Remembering

I have spent the better part of the last week in the area where I grew up surrounded by my family.  Together, we buried my grandmother yesterday.  And while it's sad, it's also been a celebration of the remarkable woman she was.  I've encountered countless people and heard story after story about the way she impacted them.  A public school teacher and administrator, a committed member of her church, Bible study leader, committee member, college professor...not to mention single mother to 6, aunt, sister, friend.  And don't forget grandmother of 14 and great grandmother of 18.  I realized as I listened to people share stories about her that I really only understand her through the lens of being her granddaughter.  It's been such a gift to have that view expanded and see her in a new way.

She wasn't a warm and fuzzy lady, but she had her moments.  She was intensely practical and expected others to act in a similar fashion.  She taught us that the world isn't that big of a place and to go and see all of it that we could.  She modeled for her whole family, in countless ways, that you make the most of every situation-good or bad- and don't use it to make excuses for yourself.  She never did.  She showed us what determination and hard work look like.  She was articulate (exactly what you'd expect from an English teacher!) and always ready with some insight or encouragement or a kick in the pants- whatever she thought you needed that day.  She'd smack me in the middle of my back and tell me to stand up straight and be proud of the height God gave me.  She taught my mom, who taught me, how to care for people and make them feel welcomed and wanted in my home.  She was thrifty and loved to get a good deal (I come by it honest!).  She was fully present in conversation and comfortable with silence.

She was all of these things and so much more.  She was my last living grandparent and I feel like something has come unhinged with her passing.  I can't quite articulate it, but I don't really like how it feels.  But I know what I need to do.  And it's her voice I hear in my mind saying, "Buck up, Kate."

I will, Gram.  I will.

Meeting Haven for the first time in April 2006

1:51am

1:51am

The world as I knew it stopped in that moment, never to return to the course I'd come to know. I was left to find a new path, a new way.

I'm still finding it.

But today I'll get up with a heart full of memories. I'll live the life I hope he'd be proud of. I'll kiss the babies he never got to meet. I'll fix a dinner he would have loved to enjoy at my table. I'll remember the good and push away the hard, just for today.

I'll keep finding my way.

Growing up

I had a 25 minute drive each way today to do some shopping. I'd put an old cd in the stereo last week, but hadn't listened to it until today. The kids indulged the turned up volume and my singing along. It's amazing how music can transport you to a different time and place. I don't think I realized how much I grew up with this music.

I was awash in memories...

...a 16 year old devastated by a change in plans and my big brother bought me a CD that made me feel at least a little bit better... sitting in my car, confused and second guessing decisions I'd made; but He showed me the answer I needed and I walked through the door He unlocked... a girl longing for love and wondering when someone would feel about me the way I heard it expressed in a song... struggling through major life changes and disappointments and figuring out what I believed and Who I believed in... a night spent waiting to say goodbye to one who wasn't mine... being half a world away and missing the familiar; putting my headphones on and listening to music that made me feel connected to the life I missed...finally understanding what they were talking about when it came to love...

And then it's back to reality. I'm married to my best friend, mom to the greatest kids and driving a station wagon. Is the life I imagined as that 16 year old, sitting on her floor crying? Or sitting on a boat in Africa wishing I were home?

Nope.

It's better.

...in case you care i was listening to this...

For today

Driving over the streets of the city where we first met today. Our conversation isn't all that different then it was in those days. If you close your eyes and pretend there aren't two car seats, with two small children in the back, you might think nothing has changed. And in some ways it hasn't. But in the most important ways it has. There are marriages and children, scars and disappointments, joys and new experiences that mark both our lives. We never were carefree single girls in our early twenties. There's always been a bit more to us then that, and thus the deep friendship that began many summers ago.


Flashes of scenes and situations we found ourselves in. Jokes that only we think are funny. Road trips that never lacked for excitement. Cruising through bookstores looking for cheap reads to add to our shelves. The nights spent laughing and praying and trying to figure it all out.


But now the miles separate and daily emails keep us involved in the details. We can go months without actually talking on the phone, but I know her better then just about anybody. Sometimes it's only a few lines sent out about how there's no time to email that day. Other days it's novel length tomes that are cathartic for both the reader and writer. No matter, it's always connection. It's always -I'm thinking of you today and I just need you to know that.-


Almost everything in our lives has changed since we first befriended one another. But thankfully, all those changes have made us appreciate each other more. We've grown up together in many ways and I have a feeling there's more of that to come.


But today I'm thankful that the miles don't separate. I'm happy to be sitting next to her. To see her laugh and love on my children. To just sit and be together, remebering our younger selves with a smile. To speak of the mundane and the deep across the table.


I'm thankful to just be.

thirteen years later...

i still miss him.

the longing for his presence in my life is still fierce. the sharpness of it takes me by surprise at times.

my life, our life, is just so good...i want to share it with him. i want him to be here, to be part of what started with him in the first place. i want him to see the fruit that has been born out of the seeds he sowed deeply.

but he's not. he's not here.

so i'll just keep missing him. and thanking God that he was mine to call dad.

easier said then done.

especially today, thirteen years later.

Fresh cut grass

I lived in Cotonou, Benin, West Africa for 6 months in 2001. Cotonou is a port city and I lived on a boat in the port for part of that time. There was no grass to be found. Even in other parts of the city yards and open spaces comprised of dust, dirt and more dust. As students with YWAM our cheapest mode of transportation was zimijans (small motor bikes for hire) with a driver. It was always interesting trying to communicate to our driver where you wanted to go and agree on a price with little to no French (for me) or English (for him).

One particularly hot day, I had hired a zimijan to take me to a restaurant where I was meeting some friends to eat. The driver headed out of the port area on a road I had not driven on before. At that point my knowledge of the city was very limited so I didn't think much of it. We were headed in the general direction of the restaurant so I just sat back and tried to enjoy the ride (while holding on for dear life to the bar behind my back!) It seemed to be taking a little longer then I thought and I began to get a little worried. I had recently had a traumatic experience with another zimijan driver who I could not communicate with and left me in the middle of nowhere, yelling at me as he drove away. I did not want a repeat performance. I was just about to ask him to pull over so we could review my destination when I smelled it.

Fresh cut grass. To my right was the Cotonou Hilton and inside it's gated walls were acres of green. freshly cut grass. My mind was instantly transported. I was no longer on the back of a motorcycle in dusty, dirty western Africa, I was home. I was driving through the rolling hills of my childhood home breathing in spring. It was only a moment, but it was enough for my homesick heart. A glimpse and a reminder of what I'd left behind. You might think it made me even more homesick, but the opposite happened. It reminded me how big my God was. That He chose to lead a home loving, country girl like me to the other side of the world to experience Him in amazing ways. He loves me that much!

Spring is finally here. Trees are blooming, spring bulbs are bright with color and the grass is slowly turning green once again. As I was driving home from the store earlier this week I caught my first waft of fresh cut grass. And this time I found myself remembering the girl on the back of the motorcycle and the God who loves her.

O tannenbaum

There are not many things that smell better then a fresh cut Christmas tree. That's how my house smells tonight and it makes me feel cozy and settled and incredibly nostalgic. Actually the nostalgia probably results from the decorating of the tree. You won't find some matchy-matchy "themed" tree at our house. It's a hodge podge of our lives and I can honestly say that I can tell you where each ornament came from. I love it.

I love our big colored lights that so many people think are tacky. I love the star on top that is too heavy to ever stand straight. I love our square tree skirt that (gasp!) Cale designed and my mom and I sewed our first Christmas together. I love the old blue glass ornament with silver stars that once hung on my grandfather's tree. A grandfather I only met through stories my dad told. In my mind I can still see my dad smile when he would pull that ball out of the ornament box and thoughtfully find a place for it on our tree growing up. There was always a great sigh of relief that it had survived another year. Now I'm the one pulling it out and remembering, not one, but two dads who are gone.

I am so glad that Cale and I started collecting Christmas ornaments on our honeymoon and have added to our collection each year when we celebrate our anniversary. So many ornaments, and so many memories...Haven's first Christmas and her little hand print ornament, the peach that graced our tree in Namibia, the cross stitched ornaments my mom made for me growing up, the ornament a thoughtful friend had made for us of our wedding day, the glass and wooden hand painted balls from places all over the world...

I guess our tree does have a theme. It tells a story of our life and the places that we've been and the people that we've loved. Memories that belong just to us; it's the story of us.

October

October and I have a love/hate relationship. It is a month ripe with memories; the best of the best and the worst of the worst. It's a month of reflection and remembering. Remembering the joy and the hope as I said, "I do" to Cale and the pain and the heartbreak of saying goodbye to my dad. The two most defining moments of my life all wrapped up in the same month...it makes for an emotional me.

As I was thinking about it today I realized how both of those moments were absolutely saturated in God's grace. They are experiences that reside at completely opposite ends of the spectrum, but are not separate. They are both pieces of me, my story.

A story of a loving God with plans so far beyond what I could ever imagine. He's the one who gave me a dad that showed me how much I was worth and taught me to never settle for anything less then God's best. God's the one who gave me a dad that walked by faith in ways I am still experiencing and gave me a passion for learning and understanding and growing.

And He's the same God who brought Cale into my life and everyday is the best there could ever be for me. He gave me a husband who daily works out this life of faith by my side and encourages me to think and grow and try new things. He gave me a husband who's belief in me is unwavering.

So today I'm sad, but God's grace is no less sufficient. My mind is full of memories and I will myself to recall new ones that I haven't yet remembered. Somthing else of my dad to hold on to, even for just a moment.

This weekend, I will be hopeful as I rejoice with Cale at what God has done in six years of our marriage. And God's grace will surround us in that joy, too. We will recount God's faithfulness to us and look to the future with great expectation.

There is much more to this story...but the theme will never change.

"And from His fullness we have all received, grace upon grace." John 1:16 (ESV)

Grandma Margaret

She's not my real grandma. But don't tell her that. Or me, either. She's known me since the day I came home from the hospital and she's loved me every day since. Childhood memories of summer almost always have her house as the setting.

Sitting on the porch trying to keep cool. Running through the yard catching fire flies. Climbing trees and having crab apple fights with my brothers. Pumping water from the well and splashing around to cool ourselves off. Playing in the barn on tractors and combines and acting out scenes from "The Fall Guy". Tables full of Grandma's delicious food and lots of people to share it with. Sitting on Grandpa's lap and listening to fairy tales read from the big book. Picking vegetables from the garden and thinking that there was no way we could eat all those tomatoes.

These are the memories that helped define my life, that give me a sense of belonging and an understanding of what home is.

We went to visit Grandma on Sunday and her presence, all 4' 10" of it, is a comfort to me even still. Watching Haven and Grandma walk down the hallway, hand-in-hand, makes me aware of the flow of life in a new way. Hearing Grandma say my name in the way only she does makes me feel like I'm five again, standing in her kitchen. Kath-a-leen. Seeing the way her eyes light up when we talk about days gone by and knowing that we all miss the same people who fill those memories with love.

She taught my parents, and thus, my brothers and I, that family doesn't just mean the people you share a biological connection with.

She is my grandma.

NKOTB

I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own two eyes. This morning, on the Today Show, the New Kids were back at. Yes, you read that right. New Kids on the Block are back together, with a new CD and a tour. Hello, flashback!

I'm certain I wasn't the only NKOTB crazy back in the late 80's. My bedroom was lined with their posters, their cassette was always playing in my boom box and I would carry my humongous Joey pin back and forth to school everyday. It had a little stand on it so Joey could sit there and watch me do my fourth grade schoolwork. Joey was my favorite, hands down.

It was bizarre to hear the old songs (and yes, I did sing along!) and watch my own daughter dance around to the music and clap her hands in appreciation. It's as if my world has come full circle or something. But there is something mildly disturbing about the whole thing. There fans don't seem to care and are as crazy as ever. People were in hysterics over them and some had camped out for a few days so they could be close to the stage. I'm thankful I grew out of my obsession back in '91.

So who was your favorite New Kid?

The end of an era

We went there as a family for the first time when I was seven years old. We had our pop-up camper hooked up to the back of the car and the three of us were tired of being cramped in the back seat together. We'd never been to this campground before, but had come with another family whose aunt and uncle owned the place. Our spot was on a corner, right underneath the biggest weeping willow tree I'd ever seen in my life. It gave us lots of shade from the summer sun and was fun to swing on. A two minute walk took us right down to the water and all you could see was Lake Erie for miles and miles. I don't remember how many nights we stayed on our first trip, but those nights were simply added to the weeks of nights I would spend there over the next 20 years.

We had always been a camping family, initially with our little pop-up camper towed behind our current car. Our summer vacation consisted of a week here or a weekend there, traveling around to different campgrounds within a few hours of home. Sometimes another family or friends from church would also be there. Those early days and nights of camping fill my mind with memories of Twizzlers, Uno and my rainbow stripe swimsuit...sneaking marshmallows with my brothers and the dog being afraid of fireworks so my dad had to hold him...mountain pies and washing the dishes in big, deep plastic basins on the picnic table.

Shortly after going to the campground on Lake Erie my parents decided that was enough of the transient camping for us. We bought a big old camper that would be in a permanent spot, ready for us whenever we wanted. It was only 35 minutes from home so we could sneak up there for a night anytime we wanted. We still spent our summer vacation up there- two weeks straight sometimes. Lazy days filled with my BFFs, tons of books, countless hours swimming in the lake, gorgeous sunsets and evenings spent around the fire. Conversations and moments shared that are integral to who I am and what I believe. Love and laughter and stories that made bedtime come too early.

The days of childhood gave way to those of my youth, but the back drop of summer remained the same. My biggest dilemma would often be choosing which friend to bring with me to pass the days with. My mind remembers hours of shooting pool in the camp "store", laying on the tennis courts counting shooting stars, sneaking out to meet our new "friends" long after my parents were asleep, and getting into my first (and last) fist fight with a mean girl named Becky who chased me all the way down the hill back to our camper. I also remember the lounge chair my dad would pass the afternoons in- reading or snoozing or just relaxing. Sometimes he'd be off golfing or fishing or maybe just tinkering with something that needed fixed. See, this was his place; it was his escape from the pressures of life and one of the only places he could truly relax. Even after he was sick it was a place we could go and try to forget what was happening. Sometimes it didn't work, but at least we tried.

After my dad died, it was hard to go to camp. It seemed empty and hollow and like we were always waiting for someone who never showed up. We kept trying though and it did get easier with each passing year. Life didn't allow us to spend nearly as much time up there as we had in the past, but I still have great memories of sharing this place that had meant so much to me with new friends. We still had family picnics and spent evenings around the fire. I still managed to take my BFFs with me and sit around the fire talking about boys and dreams and eating mountain pies. All of my nieces and nephews have been there and heard stories about their Grandpa Jon and how he loved that place.

We had a magical weekend there in September with my brother and his family and my mom. I'm so glad that I didn't know then that it would be our last time at camp together. I'm glad I didn't know it was the last fire I would sit around in the same spot my dad did. I'm glad I didn't know there would never be another evening there filled with laughter and stories and sharing that made me want to stay up way too late. I'm just glad it was a perfect weekend, sharing this special place with Haven for the first time and watching her climb up and down from her Grandpa's favorite chair.

We're saying goodbye to camp this spring. The beloved weeping willow our camper sat beneath for almost 20 years did us in during an ice storm in February. The damage done left it beyond repair. It makes me sad to know that this part of our lives is over, but even in the way it happened I see God's hand at work. My mom would not have let this place go willingly; so the Lord took care of it for her and gave her no choice. In my mind, I know that it's for the best, but my heart is having a tough time agreeing.

There will be no more lazy summer afternoons spent at camp, but the memories of this place, and most importantly the people we shared it with, stay with me for always.

A convuluted trip down memory lane with dinner at the end

Cale has been on a great gift streak for me lately. Not that all his gifts aren't good ones that I appreciate, but there have been some serious standouts of late. On Christmas morning I was delighted that he had bought me cooking classes at a local high-end grocery store. I have been looking over the classes offered this spring and can't wait to take a few of them.

On Tuesday, Cale took me out to lunch for my birthday. As soon as we were situated at our table, he pulled out a large blue envelope with a book inside. Cale had taken all of the blog posts he wrote while we were in Namibia and had them printed and bound into a book. I had no idea he was working on this project and I was completely surprised. It is wonderful to have a record of our time there together all in one place in an easy to read format.

I have been reading through his account for the last few nights and it has flooded my mind with memories. If any of you kept up with our blog while we were gone then you know two things: Cale talked about computer stuff a lot and he felt the need to tell everyone what we ate every day. (Last night I read that we had chicken in vinegar for dinner. I have no clue what he's talking about but I'm pretty sure I never cooked anything in straight white vinegar...maybe he meant balsamic? I really don't know!) He also spent a lot of time talking about what we were learning or reading. Since I have been a very sporadic journal writer for the last several years, I so appreciate his account of what we were walking through during that time.

But back to the food! One of the things that we ate whenever we were out or that was prepared for us was a dish called Bobotie. (Can you even believe that I find a Bobotie article on Wikipedia!) We didn't know it was called that at the time, but it is something that we both enjoyed (even when it was made with kudu!). It is a traditional South African dish that is best described as a sweet, meat stew. Well over a year ago, I came across a Bobotie recipe in Rachael Ray's magazine. As I read over the ingredients I realized that this is what we had been eating in Namibia without even knowing it. Of course, I had to try it and it has since become a favorite here at our house. I've adapted the recipe a bit to fit our tastes, but if you want to see the original recipe go here. Cale loves this and since he's the one that started this trip down memory lane, I will share the recipe with you in his honor!

Bobotie
1/4 cup sliced almonds
2 Tbs extra virgin olive oil
2 lbs ground sirloin
1 bay leaf
2 stalks celery, finely chopped
1 large carrot, finely chopped
1 medium onion, finely chopped
6 Piquante Peppadew Peppers, drained and finely chopped **
3 garlic cloves, finely chopped
salt and fresh ground pepper
1/4 cup golden raisins
1/2 cup mango chutney
1 cup beef broth
2 Tbs curry powder
1 tsp turmeric
1 1/2 tsp ground coriander
1 tsp lemon zest

1. In a dry skillet, lightly toast the almonds for 3-4 minutes.

2.Heat a large skillet over medium heat and then add the 2 Tbs olive oil. When the oil is hot spread the meat into an even layer in the pan. Let it caramelize and deeply brown (which means don't stir!); then stir and move to the sides of the pan. Add bay leaf, celery, carrots, onion, peppers and garlic to the center of the pan, season with salt and pepper and cook for a few minutes, then stir into the meat. Add chutney, broth, curry powder, turmeric, coriander and lemon zest. Stir vigorously until the broth simmers and starts to evaporate and the meat casserole starts to thicken. Remove the bay leaf and add the toasted almonds. Spoon into bowls and enjoy!

**I have never been able to find these particular peppers so I have gotten creative. I've found a red pepper relish that works well. The key is to add some kind of sweet pepper to the mix. The last time I made it I used some random pepper mix I found at the store as well as a chopped orange bell pepper. It was great. So don't worry if you can't find these as I have found it still turns out great!

More than you ever wanted to know about me....or my 100th post!

In following the great bloggy tradition, I will bore you with 100 things about me in honor of my 100th post.

1. I can't wait to meet the child God has for us in Ethiopia.
2. I love being a wife and a mom.
3. It's all I ever really wanted to be.
4. I am not an ambitious person- especially as it relates to a career.
5. I went to three different colleges.
6. Four if you count my Discipleship Training School credits.
7. But I only have one degree that took me five years to complete.
8. One college was Catholic, one was Wesleyan Methodist and one was Assemblies of God.
9. I am a denominational hodgepodge.
10. I grew up a pastor's kid in the United Methodist Church.
11. I have two older brothers, two sister-in-laws, two nieces and three nephews.
12. I was born in the city that I now live in.
13. I have only lived in two states my whole life.
14. Except for the nine months I lived in Benin, West Africa and in Namibia.
15. As already mentioned, I am a YWAMer and proud of it.
16. My DTS on the Mercy Ships was the most incredible life changing experience.
17. But I didn't really like living in Africa.
18. My first mission trip was to Puerto Rico in March 1998.
19. It changed the course of my life.
20. I hope I have more trips in my future.
21. Cale and I went to Namibia together in the fall of 2004.
22. We literally spent 4 months together 24/7.
23. And we loved it.
24. My favorite number is 22.
25. My favorite color is red.
26. I am a great cook.
27. And I love to cook, too.
28. I make some fantastic Chicken Tikka Masala.
29. I like to bake, too, but am not as patient as is sometimes needed.
30. I am not a perfectionist.
31. I like to take walks on the bike trail behind our house.
32. I get excited about finding a good deal.
33. I also get excited when a friend I've been discipling starts to disciple someone else.
34. One of my favorite books is "Two-Part Invention" by Madeleine L'Engle.
35. My other favorite book is "Knowledge of the Holy" by A.W. Tozer.
36. That book radically expanded my understanding of God and His greatness.
37. I am currently under investigation by a state government office.
38. This makes me angry.
39. I am getting new windows in my house.
40. This makes me happy
41. and also pooorer.
42. I went to a Billy Graham Crusade when I was 14.
43. It was an experience that I will never forget.
44. I have had malaria twice.
45. The second time almost killed me.
46. I have broken and sprained my ankles more times than I can count.
47. I have had surgery on my right ankle two times.
48. After the second time, I fell down the steps and broke my other ankle.
49. I spent six weeks of my junior year in a wheelchair with two casts on.
50. My favorite shows on tv are all on NBC- the Office, ER and Friday Night Lights.
51. The only reality tv show I like to watch is The Amazing Race.
52. I never thought I would ever make it to 1oo posts.
53. The first blog I started reading regularly was In the Midst of It.
54. My favorite season is fall and that's why I got married then.
55. Cale and I went here, here and here for our honeymoon. Fantastic!
56. We spent our first Valentine's Day married driving up Highway 1 on the California Coast.
57. I have been a bridesmaid in seven weddings.
58. And I've got the dresses in my closet to prove it.
59. I heart Target.
60. Although it does occasionally cause me to stumble and want things that I don't need.
61. I love those little orange stickers.
62. I just got new glasses and I really like them.
63. My husband thinks I'm wonderful.
64. Sometimes I agree with him.
65. I like to get Christmas shopping done early.
66. I am one of the crazy people who likes to shop the day after Thanksgiving, even if I don't have much to buy.
67. I delivered Haven naturally using the husband-coached childbirth method.
68. It was an amazing experience for both Cale and me that I wouldn't trade for anything.
69. I had the best nurses and doctor taking care of me.
70. The only doctor I like going to is the chiropractor, especially if it includes a stop with the massage therapist.
71. I once met Bill Cosby in a small airport near my house.
72. I saw Nelson Mandela's prison cell on Robben Isalnd.
73. A sobering day seeing first hand the evilness of men.
74. My head is starting to hurt from thinking about myself so long.
75. I used to sing in a quartet when I was in middle school with some girls at church.
76. I really can't sing that well.
77. I have arthritis in one joint of my second toe. Weird, but true.
78. I broke my left ankle in the fourth grade roller skating.
79. I was then named the Reckless Roller by the cute boy in my class.
80. Cale liked me before I liked him.
81. We used to go to concerts together all the time.
82. One of the best was Appleseed Cast and The Get-up Kids.
83. One of my favorite restaurants in Cleveland is a fantastic Thai place called Lemongrass.
84. I am not a city girl, but sometimes I miss living in Cleveland Heights.
85. I did a lot of growing up the three years I lived there.
86. I have nannied for five different families.
87. I was the personal assistant for David Copperfield's tour manager for about a year.
88. It was a fun, random job that paid really well.
89. Cale and I have completely remodeled our house.
90. We started that the day after we found out we were pregnant.
91. I took the test twice because I didn't believe it.
92. I didn't have a very fun pregnancy.
93. I developed asthma in my 6th month of pregnancy.
94. I craved chips and salsa all the time when I was pregnant.
95. I love the snow and winter.
96. I learned how to drive in the snow.
97. My favorite beverage is water, but I do enjoy some fountain Coke on occasion.
98. I love eggplant in all its various forms.
99. Pizza is my perfect food.
100. I'm glad to be done with this ridiculously long list!!

A Daughter Remembers

It has been eleven years since I first had to say the phrase, "My dad died." Back then I probably chose different words, but the meaning was all the same.

"My dad's gone. He passed away. He's in a better place."

I probably thought that saying it a different way made it not sound so bad, but is there any good way to say that the person you loved most in this world was no longer going to be a part of your daily life? I don't think there is. In fact, I'm sure that there isn't.

Eleven years later the words still sting. They don't have the power they once did in my life when the wound was fresh, but it hurts just the same. Now the pain has a different type of depth as I think about how different my life is. A 17 year old senior in high school with all the world ahead of her to the 28 year old happily married mom that I am today. Now the sadness is laced with all the things my dad doesn't know about me and my life; all the joy that we are both missing out on.

My dad never met Cale. He would laugh to know that I did marry a man much like him. Cale's life isn't quite as complete without his father-in-law to encourage, inspire and learn from. My dad would delight in our sweet Haven and I have no doubt that his daughter's daughter would hold a supreme place in his heart. Haven's life will be a bit less rich because her Grandpa Jon is only someone who exists in stories.

And while today is a sad day for me (you never "get over" the death of a dearly loved parent, you just learn to live life in a new way without them in it), I am trying to think of all the wonderful things about my dad that have shaped me and made me who I am. My dad left a rich legacy and I treasure it and pray that I will be able to pass it on to my own children.

My dad taught me to love Jesus. He lived a life of faith. He taught me about grace and patience and love that knows no bounds. He taught me how to pray and that wherever you are is the best place to practice it- on the phone, on the street, in a hospital corridor, at home, in the car. He taught me how to think for myself and to form intelligent opinions. He helped to develop a mind that cares about what is going on in the world around me and to not get so caught up in my little corner of it. He talked to me about politics and current events and helped me to understand my part in it.

And no, my dad was no saint. I assure you that my memory of him has not become foggy with the passing of time. I recognize his strengths as well as his weaknesses and hopefully have learned something from both. I just know that my dad made me set high standards- for my self and the people around me. He is why I didn't settle for just a husband, but married my best friend and the love of my life. He is why I don't get hung up on seeing God as my Heavenly Father.

I cling to the hope that we have through Jesus of being with my dad again in Heaven. And while it may be true that he is no longer alive here in this world, I am completely confident in the truth that he is alive in Christ. Sometimes there isn't much comfort in that. I want him here, now, tangible, available. But for today I will find joy in the thought of having all of eternity together. The pain of this world forgotten- all of the moments of wishing he were here and all the sadness of the things we never got to experience- GONE.

Now that is something to remember.

Old and new

The friendships that I have with Godly women are not something I take lightly. My circle of friends fluctuates during different seasons of my life, but right now I feel overwhelmed by all the great women I can call a friend. Last week was filled with time spent with so many of them. Old and new; there is comfort in the friends who have walked with you through much of life and there is joy in feeling instantly connected to someone that you are just getting to know.

I had lunch with one of the new friends last week. She is young and passionate about the Lord. She spent much of our lunch asking me questions because she truly desires to know and understand me. It's refreshing to spend time with someone who doesn't want to talk about themselves! That same evening I was blessed to get an entire evening of kid-free hang out time with Amber. We were celebrating our semi-regular Girl's Night Out. Shopping, eating, shopping, dessert and a movie. Seven hours of total freedom! It was wonderful and I am daily thankful for this woman's friendship and influence in my life. I love having a friend that I can still talk on the phone to for 25 minutes despite the fact that we just spent several hours together. I love that we share the ins and outs of our day and I know what she's cooking for dinner and that I get as excited as she does when she gets a great deal.

The next day I went over to my friend J's house and we managed to have great conversation in the midst of kids with questions and making lunch. J and I have been friends for awhile, but have been spending more time together and realizing more and more how great the other is. That evening I met up with a friend from our house church that I am doing a Bible study with. We usually meet with our daughters in tow so having an hour with just the two of us at Barnes and Noble was fabulous. We were able to share what the Lord has been teaching us, both through the study we are doing and in other areas of our life. We marveled at the way God's timing is so perfect and the way He always seems to tie things together from different parts of our life. It was an encouraging and challenging hour together.

We headed out of town on Thursday and I was so excited to discover that one of my old friends was in town and we would be able to see her. The only downer is that we didn't meet up until 11pm! And guess what we did? We went to the grocery store and Walmart! Living on the edge, I know! But it was fun because it reminded me of years past and doing necessary things at all hours of the night with her. We talked in the parking lot in her car until 1:45am. So much to catch up on and share. New love in her life and all that God is teaching her through that. Encouraging her that you never get it all figured out (and yes, that is encouraging to know!). She and I have walked through a lot together and some of my favorite youth ministry memories, or really, mishaps revolve around her. She is a stay-up-late-laugh-alot kind of friend who I am so thankful for!

Sometimes I have really great ideas and I had one of those late last week. Jess only lives about and hour and a half from my mom's house so I suggested that she and her husband come spend the day with us. We had a quick stop planned at their new house, but I was feeling the need for more time together. Thankfully, Jess felt the same and she and Curt came over Saturday. We celebrated Cale's birthday together and they so easily fit into the rest of our family. We really didn't do anything special, ate a lot of good food, savored the beautiful weather and just enjoyed being in the same place. I miss that. I miss her. I miss being part of the daily happenings and just showing up at her house to hang out because I had nothing else to do. I miss road trips and praying together and cruising the book store for cheap books. But life changes you and moves you and right now we are in different places. But our connection to each other remains strong and I won't let that go.

We change and we grow. We move on and we look back. It's all a journey and at least for this moment I am grateful to walk through it with these women by my side.

Pick-N-Pay

Yesterday I had to run to the grocery to get a few things. Kroger is not usually my friend, but it's close by so I decided to go there anyways. I was almost done with my shopping when something in the household cleaning aisle caught my eye. I started to walk towards the item when I was stopped in my tracks as my nose caught a whiff of a smell I haven't smelled in some time. Two and a half years actually.

The smell of a particular detergent (I don't even know what it was) immediately transported me to the aisles of Pick-N-Pay in Okahandja, Namibia where Cale and I lived from October 2004 to January 2005. Pick-n-Pay was a part of our daily existence as it was literally a stones throw from where we lived. We made almost daily trips there for brotchen (rolls) and fruit. We spent our mornings working in the office for Christ's Hope International and would get an hour break for lunch. We loved the fresh brotchen for sandwiches for lunch. And by fresh I mean, like hot out of the oven fresh. You can smell the baking bread before you even got in the store.

The view from our roof across the lot to Pick-N-Pay

We spent lots of time in that little grocery store. Initially because I was trying to figure out what ingredients I could get to cook with. The only problem was that new stuff would come and go and sometimes if I had planned on cooking chicken, there was no chicken to be had! I learned how to be resourceful in a whole new way. Our staples included yogurt drinks for Cale, muesli for breakfast, chutney for cheese sandwiches, Drink-O-Pop (like Kool-aid, but you don't add sugar) and pasta. We ate lots of pasta. Our occasional splurge was on a 2 liter of Coke or Sprite. They were almost $3 a piece, so it was definitely not an everyday purchase. Our favorite meal was french bread pizzas. Sometimes we would have to get creative because the store wouldn't have mozzarella that day.

(And as an aside, I realize how fortunate we were to be in a small town in Namibia and have access to a grocery store at all. I spent 3 months of a previous life living in a village in Benin, West Africa where we had to drive for 30 minutes to pick up basic provisions. Butter was our luxury item in those days and since bread made up 2 out of 3 of our meals, we appreciated every last speck of it. )

I remember travelling around Christmas and getting back to our flat in the late afternoon on Christmas Eve. Pick-N-Pay was closing in half and hour and would be closed for the next several days. We made a mad dash over there stocking up on supplies while also buying food for our Christmas potluck. There were so many people jammed in the store. We had someone just get in line (there were 2 checkouts) while the rest of us picked out our items. We bought the last watermelon to be had, the last of the potatoes, the bananas were already gone and there was no meat to be found. It was a crazy experience!

Maybe Kroger isn't so bad after all!