Smell the Daisies

Yesterday

2008-11-18T17:49:00.004-05:00

Monday's can be surprising. Or they can be Mondays. Yesterday was a Monday. While getting dressed, I banged a hanger against my nose, and zipped up a chunk of skin along with my skirt. I made it to work alive, however, and things seemed to be looking up--for the first five minutes, at least. Then, I discovered a project with a looming due date. As in, due that day.

Some sharp nibbles inflicted by gerbil teeth (yes, we have gerbils in our office) confirmed my worst fears: This was a high-caliber Monday. Monday to the extreme. Not your ordinary manic Monday.

Yet, obviously, since I'm writing this on Tuesday, it would seem that I survived. In fact, a few highlights were thrown in to counteract the many other unmentioned Monday moments. A cheery note from my best friend started the upward trend. A picture of a hamster trying to stuff an entire baby carrot into it's right cheek turned stress to laughter. A photo shoot of the aforementioned nibbly gerbils reaffirmed our pleasant camaraderie. An I-love-you kiss from my husband cheered away even more of the Mondayness. A visit from a friend topped off the upswing, and I fell asleep thankful for another day.

So once again life has proven that things are not always what they may at first seem. I thought I was starting off a Monday, but I ended up with a fresh start on my work week!

Two became one

2008-10-12T11:11:00.002-04:00

On September 28, 2008, Alejandro and I jumped for joy as we became husband and wife.

Take a deep breath

2008-06-15T07:18:00.004-04:00

I've been breathing for the last couple weeks, but it feels like it's been a while since I've taken a deep breath. Go ahead, try it.

Breathe in. Fill your lungs to capacity. Then, slowly let it all out. 'Til you feel almost caved in.

Do it again.

How do you feel?

We can survive for a long time with shallow breaths. But, when we breathe in deep, our bodies get all the oxygen they need to thrive!

I'm usually a shallow breather. Especially when I'm feeling overwhelmed. I'm not just talking about my lungs, though.

In the past few weeks... months, really, I've had so much going on, that I've just been focusing on getting it finished. Rarely have I taken the time to call an old friend just to catch up. Or go for a walk just to enjoy God's nature. Or do something really nice and unexpected for someone. I'm missing those deep breaths that will give me renewed strength, and realign my perspective.

I've been a shallow spiritual breather, too. I've been reading my Bible. And, I have a Bible study every week, where I'll take a deeper breath. But most of the time, I'm just getting enough oxygen to keep from falling flat. I'll survive for quite some time this way, but eventually, I will fall flat. And, if I keep this up, I can never thrive!

So, my challenge to myself today, and you too, if you'll join me, is to breathe deeply. Physically, spiritually, mentally, and emotionally.

Meowing down the wrong hole

2008-03-05T23:06:00.003-05:00

Got a minute? This will make you laugh, or at least scratch your head in wonder. It's got to be the strangest cat story I've heard: Catch of the Day

More Than Spuds

2008-02-25T22:34:00.005-05:00

I completely disagree with the name Idaho for the state. Yes, I realize it's been called such for over a hundred years. But, why? Talk about poor marketing. It doesn't even sound appealing!

Okay, so this is all in my humble opinion, and you're more than welcome to disagree. But, the parts of Idaho that I have traversed were beautiful areas. Undeserving of such a name. Really, do you want to visit a place called Idaho? Or live there? ... That's what I thought.

In all fairness, it's true that the word Idaho is thought to be an Indian word meaning "gem of the mountains." That is an apt name, and a good PR move. But, there's two problems with it. First, how many people really know that? And second... well, it doesn't actually mean that. It's not even Indian! A guy named George M. Willing (who was trying to make Idaho a state, but got involved in some messy fraudulent things, as I understand) made up the meaning for it (gem of the mountains).

According to my research (I read a grand total of one article, so if they lied to me, I'm going to have to rewrite a lot of this--see the pdf for yourself), Idaho was the name for the Pike's Peak mining area, before Congress established it as Colorado. Now, wouldn't that have been interesting if the name stuck there? We'd be going to the Idaho Rockies, skiing in Idaho, visiting the mile-high city of Idaho.

Somebody with foresight was on Colorado's side. So, a pretty little funny-shaped territory to the northwest of it got stuck with the name Idaho, instead.

Now, I really have no reason for venting about all of this. It would be a little weird to start changing state names and all that. I just wanted to say that Idaho is beautiful, despite it's name (no, I don't live there, and I gain absolutely nothing by encouraging your visiting). And, oddly enough, the name has grown on me as I've thought about it and researched it.

So, hey. Idaho. Why not?

back in business

2008-02-20T23:21:00.004-05:00

Yes, it's been quite a while. My goal is to start updating this a bit more often. Since it's late just now, I'm simply going to link to a friend's blog which shows my most recent exciting event. I held the first American-side I love you Christmas party, and we celebrated the second year of this holiday's existent on Saturday night. It was great fun! See and read more at the Jan'Eric blog

Millipedia

2007-09-23T11:39:00.001-04:00

After moving back from Norway to a lovely (though overly hot and muggy) little town in Tennessee, I soon found myself settled into a cute, though small, basement apartment. Being in a basement automatically means an increased population of small many-legged visitors, but I thought I had handled the majority of the problem after thoroughly cleaning out all the corners while moving in.

Things seemed to be going well enough for the first week, but by the middle of the second week in my new home, I could see that I had been mislead. An unexpected type of animal had begun to invade my small residence. Tiny millipedes (about an inch long) were squeezing their way through the crack under my door. At first, I only spotted a couple, but quickly their numbers increased to ten, then twenty, then at least thirty each day. I was doing millipede checks every morning when I woke up, every afternoon when I returned home from work, and every evening before bed--finding and eliminating ten or twenty at a time. Constantly on the alert, I spotted them on the floor by my chair while eating breakfast, sneaking in through the doorway when I would try to relax with a book, crawling along the bathroom wall as I combed my hair.... It was rather disconcerting at times.

Thankfully, their migration has ceased (I did some research and found that they tend to swarm into basements during their migration, and, if left unchecked, could cause a mess and repeat the pattern year after year), and I see them only rarely and usually outside by now. But, during the heat of my two-month-long battle against them, I was asked to write about them as an object lesson. So here are the thoughts they provoked:

“Home at last,” I sighed, opening the door to my basement apartment. I stepped across the threshold, then hopped back, wishing I could close the door and never come back.

Millipedes speckled the floor. Crawling millipedes, probing millipedes, sleeping millipedes. They made themselves right at home, though not a one of them had ever paid rent!

If anyone had told me last year that I would live in an apartment in which fighting off millipedes, spiders, and insects was a daily activity, I would have produced an unladylike snort of disbelief. I have a tremendous fear of creatures with more than four legs. Which is, of course, the reason God has given me the opportunity to live in a place to which millipedes (note the Latin here: 1000 legs—much more than four!) are inexplicably drawn.

In the short weeks since I moved into my place, I am already noticing progress. Instead of finding ways to dispose of them from the greatest distance possible, I have reached the point where I am able to pick up most of my many-legged intruders with a tissue.

For me, this is a stepping-stone. I have long dreamed of visiting and serving in many countries around the world, but when missionaries tell me about the giant spiders and roaches and scorpions they have chased out of their homes, my enthusiasm wavers.

Now, though, I know first-hand that God will prepare me for anything He calls me to do. He’s given me the courage to dispense of hundreds of millipedes without even a shudder, and He will give me the strength I need to face any other challenge that comes my way. It is true that the only things to fear are the things I face without God by my side!

Iceland for Easter

2007-05-27T17:41:00.000-04:00

Picture yourself reading this about a month and a half ago, just after I returned from Iceland. I'm a little behind, so I'll just write it as if I have just gotten back.

Monday, April 2, found Elisa and I sitting in the Oslo airport, waiting to board our plane. As we sat there, I happened to look up from the book I was reading, and see two people I knew! They saw us at about the same time, so they moved to sit closer, and we began to chat. Before long, Jan David and I decided to head on a journey of discovery.

You see, in the international section, at least, of the Oslo airport, spaced about 20 meters apart are some tall silver poles that loop around at the top like canes, and then form into an upside down bowl shape, with a small cylinder poking out of it. Jan David told me that these cylinders emitted sounds that could only be heard by the person standing directly underneath. I had to admit I was skeptical, but very curious, so off we went to listen.

Sure enough! I stood under the first one, and heard a woman whispering soothing words like "waves, ocean, light, etc." It wasn't very clear, but it sounded like she spoke some words in Norwegian and some in English.

Well, that was interesting, but then I had another question: Did the other ones emit the same sounds? So, we went to find out! The next one we encountered was the sound of the seashore. If I closed my eyes, I could almost smell the salty air. Well, not really... But, it did make me want to find out what the next one sounded like! It turned out to be a baby gurgling and cooing.

So, that was my first discovery, before I even reached Iceland! After that excitement, we boarded the plane, a little later, and were off, to explore a new place!

Iceland is one of the most interesting countries I have ever experienced! It's beautiful in a barren way. People have said it's like being on the moon. Well, I've never been there, but I would imagine it to be similar, but with less soft and squishy moss.

Besides the interesting landscape, however, the first discovery we made is something you may not expect. We sat in the bus, watching the island pass beneath us as we entered the outskirts of Reykjavik. Suddenly, Elisa exclaimed, "There's a Taco Bell!"

I gasped in astonishment as I turned and saw that it was true! A Taco Bell in Europe! They do exist!! Well, this one does, anyway. Alas, though, it was still a ways to the main bus station, where we got off, and we never made it back to try out an Icelandic Taco Bell. Sigh. I guess I will have to wait a little longer still, before I can get some cheap, fake Mexican food.

Well, we reached our destination, at last. The Hlidardalskoli, where the first European Youth Convention was being held. We were able to stay there, and explore a little bit for the first two days, before the meetings started. So, we experienced the luxury of the Blue Lagoon, the sights of Reykjavik and the strangeness of a cave in an earthwake rent and volcanic island.

Then, the conference began. I've attended quite a few conventions, and almost all of them have been very good, but for some reason, God used this one to particularly inspire me to reach out to those who do not know Him! So, I have a much stronger desire to do evangelism, and to work for God in any way that I can!

If you're interested in some of the meeting topics, let me know, and I'll put those up. Otherwise, I won't make this post even longer. I will simply say that it is time to tell people about Jesus! Friends, we have been offered eternal life with our Saviour! How can we be so selfish as to not pass on the message with others!

69° 42' N, 19° 00' E

2007-03-25T18:42:00.000-04:00

I greet you from a few hundred miles north of my usual spot, in the city of Tromsø, Norway. Elisa and I boarded a plane early Thursday morning and, just two hours later, we touched down in the Paris of the North, or, as I prefer to call it, Heaven on Earth. Stepping off the airplane, we both paused to gaze up at the mountains jutting upward on all sides. To our left, the sea divided us from another island, where we discovered we would be staying.

Lidvar, a friend from Southern, met us at the airport, and showed us the ropes on the bus system as we rode across the bridge to Kvaløya, or The Whale Island, where he lived. We deposited our luggage in a snug little room in his apartment, and ventured back out into the snowy wonderland, where drifts rose above our heads, and one of the ways to the road passed under a snow-arch.

Back on the bus, we traveled across the bridge back to Tromsø, another island, tootled around the south end, and crossed an identical bridge to the mainland, passing the Arctic Cathedral, Polaria and Old Tromsø, among other things, and continual being distracted by the snowy peaks jutting their way into the sky.

Returning by bus to the city center, we disembarked, leaving Lidvar to attend a class and taking some time to explore the city for ourselves. As we had watched buildings slip past our window, both Elisa and I had seen a sign that drew us. So, once we were on our own, our first goal was to find the International Food Store. Luck was on our side, and before too long we were surrounded by brightly colored labels proclaiming the contents of various shapes and sizes of containers in many different languages.

As I perused the shelf, a small carton caught my attention. Thai Green Curry Paste, the label stated. As I read it, a memory popped into my head of another time when I had read the words “Thai Green Curry.” That time, it had called out to me from a menu, and, since the first forkful touched my tongue, I was hooked. Needless to say, I didn't leave the store empty-handed.

After stepping inside a couple souvenir shops, a book shop, a shoe store, a consignment shop and an army surplus store, we declared it time to purchase food for the duration of our stay and head back to our headquarters for supper. Two more international food stores drew us into their walls before we found a grocery store, and, bags full, we finally hopped on the bus that would take us home.

The next day, after bidding farewell to Lidvar, who was embarking on his own adventure, we stepped outside again to explore this arctic paradise. Polaria, the arctic marine museum, was our goal, and upon reaching it, we were loath to leave. A film about Svalbard (Spitsbergen in English) gave me even more of a longing to visit the northern island. When it ended, we had over an hour to spend in the small museum before it was time to train and feed the bearded seals. After examining the various sea creatures and the information given about them to our satisfaction, we went into the entrance area to take pictures.

Half an hour and many cheesy pictures later, we ventured back into the aquarium area to watch the seals. As that ended, it was almost time for a short film about Antartica, which we enjoyed before venturing back out into the arctic city.

Arriving at the apartment, we agreed that Friday night was the perfect time to enjoy a taste of Thailand, Cheryl-style. It was quite excellent, but I would still recommend that you let me practice a few more times before I make Thai green curry for you. We ate slowly, savoring the food and the anticipation. We were both looking forward to the time when the night would grow dark and we could watch for the Aurora Borealis.

At about 9:15, Elisa pulled on her boots to step outside and check the sky. I joined her a minute later (she has pull-on boots, mine lace up), and we both pulled out our cameras and lay down to watch as a light green sash danced across the center of the sky.

I could spend hours simply trying to describe the northern lights. It was Friday night, like I said, and I felt as if we were glimpsing a piece of God. Maybe his smile, or maybe just His finger, tracing the beauty of His love across the sky for us to simply look up and read. A few splashes of red flitted in and out of the dance during its peak, and, then, I am sure He was winking at me. Giving me a special sign of His love and a reminder of His promises.

After an hour, the sky faded to a clear midnight blue, with a few stars twinkling on, happy to have regained their prominence in the sky, and the quarter moon still suspended above the barren trees. We returned to the warmth of the indoors, our vocabulary consisting of little more than a repetitive and whispered “Wow!”

Sleep came and went, as is usually the case, and the next morning again found us venturing into Tromsø, this time with the purpose of attending church. Thankfully, Lidvar had led us to the church when we arrived, and we were able to maneuver through the streets and up the proper hill with confidence. A confidence that paled as we reached the doors.

A baby lay outside sleeping in a stroller, content and safe, but with no one around standing guard to ensure that she remained that way. Entering the foyer, we were greeted only by the sight of teenaged girls huddling in a group and a few older people standing and sitting in pairs and threesomes. No friendly voice wished us welcome, no warm hand reached out to take ours. We simply stood, right next to the doorway and stared around, smiling uncertainly as we wondered if it was really a church or if we had mistakenly walked in on someone's birthday party. A quick glance at the bulletin board assured me that this was indeed the right place, and we walked forward, feigning self-assurance and smiling at each person who dared to meet our eyes.

We made our way to two chairs and ensconced ourselves in them, peering around at the activities of the members. We were both relieved to finally see a few people who were dressed in what we are more accustomed to see as church clothes. Our skirts had seemed very out of place during the first few minutes.

We enjoyed studying the people as they slowly filled the church to nearly max capacity. And, as the church began, we discovered that the 7^th and 8^th graders had prepared an interesting and somewhat lively program.

We joined in the singing, and I did my best to translate the message for Elisa. Both of us missed a little bit of the skit they preformed, but the whole message was focused on the importance of studying and knowing what you believe for yourself. As it drew to a close, we dawdled a little bit before rising from our seats to exit, hoping that if we stayed a bit longer, someone would approach us.

Not one person reached out in any way but to respond to a hi from me. That was a disappointment, especially after the warm and truly hospitable reception we had received the week before on our visit to the Stavanger church. As we trudged back down the hill to find our bus, we both vowed to always look for visitors so that we could make them feel especially welcome in our church, wherever it might be in the future.

The afternoon found us hiking out into the world to enjoy the sunshine and drink in the surrounding nature. The highlight for both of us was when we had paused on the bridge and happened to be watching the water at just the right time to see two creatures playing tag. From our height we were in disagreement as to whether they fell under the category of sea otter or harbor seal, but both of us were content to enjoy their playing until it led them completely out of view under our bridge.

The return to our lodgings was made against the backdrop of the golden sun plummeting beneath the horizon, and various shades of violet caressing the sky.

A lifetime of stepping out into scenery like this would never be enough to take it all in. As it is, I am only here for one more day, so I'm trying desperately to gulp down as much as I can. A long term stay would allow me to sip just a little at a time, but never would I reach the bottom of the cup. Each new day highlights a new sight to wonder at, and each day some little nuance has varied, subtly and slowly repainting the picture until it is an entirely different piece of art.

As I wish to drink it in continuously, though, I am reminded that the Artist is always the same, and He has painted the landscape wherever I go. The more untouched landscapes are simply those that are closer to the original. But the real painting will never be shown in any gallery here on earth. And, when I remember that the beauty here will seem dull and pallid compared to that, I can only gasp in wonder as I try to imagine the delights that await me in my heavenly home!

A Tuesday Blessing

2007-03-04T11:37:00.000-05:00

“Mmmhh,” I breathed, stretching, as I turned to look at my clock. 3:15 in the morning. “Oh!” I sat up, remembering the deal I'd made with God the night before. “All right, God. You woke me up. That means I've got to get to work by 4:00.”

I'd been stressing constantly about how much needed to be done at work, and I needed a chance to go in the peaceful hours of the morning and see how much I could get done. So, I dragged myself out of bed, went through the proper motions of preparing myself for the day, and 3:47 found me walking up the hill to the school where I work.

I peered forward through sleep-bleared eyes, wishing I could turn around and crawl back into my bed for the next four hours. But, after a few minutes in the crisp, snowy air, my mind became a little more alert, and I began planning where I would begin. My walk slowed, when a sudden movement caught my attention.

On the road ahead of me stood a large dark animal. I peered at it, intently. A moose? my heart leaped at the thought. No, not a moose. A doe. We gazed at each other, as I continued toward her, slowly. As I drew too near, she turned and bounded gracefully up the hill she had just meandered down. I watched her go, again reminded of God's care for each of us. For me, it seems that every animal I see, when I'm alone, is a little greeting from God to me, personally.

The rest of my walk was spent talking to my Creator, thanking Him for the day and for life. Before I was ready, I reached my destination. Slowly, I changed into my slippers, then flipped on a hall light so that I could make my way up the stairs to my office.

A few hours later, the rest of the world woke up, and some of them began to make their way into my office. I had accomplished some of what I needed, but it seemed like I kept running into hitches with everything I did. By noon, I had worked eight hours, and I could feel it. About the same time, my co-worker and I both agreed to go snowboarding that afternoon. I began to count the hours, sometimes with excitement, sometime with trepidation. My limbs were heavy and my eyelids were drooping, and I feared how my body would react to being forced into activity on the slopes. But, I had yet to spend time on my board, and it was one of the most perfect days for it! The snow that had been falling for a week eased to a stop around lunchtime, leaving fresh, soft slopes for us to ride without the stinging snow flying into our cheeks.

Just before 3:00 pm, I set out back down the hillside to prepare for the adventure. I grabbed some money, cringing as I thought of my need to save up. I hesitated at that point, then took a breath, and decided it would be worth it. Just before 4:00, we piled into the car with another friend, and headed west, to the slopes. There we met someone else, grabbed our stuff, and trekked toward the ticket booth. Just before I reached it, I was stopped by a voice. “Would you like this ticket?” she asked me in Norwegian.

I stared at her for a second. “Sure. How much?”

“Just take it,” she told me. “I'm going home, now.”

I thanked her in shock. Wow, God, thank you for taking care of that for me! Now I didn't have to spend any money! We all hit the slopes. I was on a different board, so it took a couple runs to get used to the feel of it. Soon, I began to love it! I sliced through the snow, attempting jump after jump (succeeding about half the time on those), enjoying the wind, the fresh air, and the good company.

At one point, I stopped where the trail split to see which way the group wanted to go. They flew passed me, to the left, and since I had stopped on a flatter area, it took a minute to get going again. Just before I reached the slope, the corner of my eye was tickled by a hint of something on the ground. I turned to see what had caught my attention. Was it...? 100 kr! Wow! God, wait a second! You give me a free ticket, and then some money to boot? Well, I've got to do something good with this. Would a Norwegian check lost and found for something like this? That's not their style. Maybe I'll share it with the others.

As we ended our day, and gathered in our cars, I announced that I would buy everybody ice cream! We met at the store, and unanimously voted for a box of frozen Snickers bars. After buying them, we ventured out to a picnic table by the river nearby. We sat on the back of the benches, digging our feet into the foot-and-a-half of snow that rested on the seats, and set the box in the center of the snow piled up on the table. It was cold, but our hearts were warm, and our taste buds were delighted!

I was exhausted when I fell into bed at 1:00 on Wednesday morning, but I was thankful to God for the many gifts He'd given me that reminded me not to stress, but to simply trust Him, and do my best!

Under the swollen sky

2007-02-25T10:47:00.000-05:00

Snowflakes lazily floating down out my window, gently nudging my face as I climb the hill, softly settling on top of their predecessors to create a thick covering over the barren earth. This is winter. The winter to be dreamed of and hoped for by every young child, dreaded by every grown man or woman who must rise early to clear the streets for those who would traverse them, and loved by me, who sees a miracle in every snowdrop, and in the cleanliness of the world around me. It's amazing how white the world can be when the sky is swollen and low, almost touching the earth, just avoiding doing so by letting little pieces of itself go, to float down, tossed by the playful breeze until they reach the earth. Houses, trees, any blemishes are covered by this graceful cloak. Why does it turn our hearts so? Every one of us longs to be so clean, so fresh, so beautiful. We cover ourselves with makeup, with rich clothing, trying our best to appear clean and fresh and beautiful. We can never stay this way, though. We need to let ourselves be covered, be covered inside with the snowy white cloak of God's grace. Then, and only then, will we truly be clean, fresh and beautiful. The earth doesn't put snow on itself; the sky sends the snow to the earth. The earth merely remains still, letting itself be covered. Let God cover you, my friend. You don't need to try, simply let Him. Isaiah 1:18

And that's what popped out, as I came to post something. It's been a while. Maybe, hopefully, it won't be so long next time. But, in the meantime, God bless you!

Crash!

2006-10-05T15:51:00.000-04:00

This morning, as I was sitting at my desk, there was a sudden "creak, rumble, boom, boom CRASH!" I looked up, as the noises began, just in time to watch two large bookshelves hurl themselves toward the ground, sideways. My co-worker and I both screamed (though not too loudly), and ran to stop what damage we could. Sadly, one shelf bit the dust, as well as a picture frame. Only a few books suffered minor damage, and we all got some teamwork experience, putting things back together without them falling even more! Good times :) Here's just one picture I took. (I'm in PR. I take pictures =p)

Good times :)

The Pear Tree

2006-09-19T12:05:00.000-04:00

It's been a while! But I just wrote a story the other night for my best bud, and I kinda like it, so I figured I'd share it with a few others. Have a great day!

Once upon a time, a young man, whom we shall call Sam, met his mother for a birthday brunch. Sam had started a business designing chicken beak jewelry, and using all his marketing skills, had become very successful. His mother came to his large veranda to be served a number of delicacies by his polite, but condescending butler. His mother had watched him earn more and more money, and build more and more onto his house, and hire more and more people to attend his every beck and call, and she knew that there was nothing that she could get him for his 30^th birthday that he could not get himself. So, instead of trying to get him something fancy or exciting, she decided to give him something a little different.
He frowned in confusion when she presented him with a little sapling. “A tree?” he said, curling his lip, slightly.

His mother smiled gently, not at all surprised at his reaction. “Yes, it's a pear tree. And it will be simply lovely in your yard!”

A pear tree,” he repeated, still bemused.

I do love pear trees!” she exclaimed, not allowing his response to daunt her in the least. “They are so lovely in the spring when all the flowers blossom. And so nice in the fall, when they droop with sweet, juicy pears! I just knew it would be perfect for you!”
And, so, Sam's mother helped him plant the tree in his front yard. He felt that he could do nothing about it, because he did love his mother, and he knew she would be sad if the pear tree wasn't taken care of, and wasn't in his front yard.

Alas, it was only a couple years later that his mother died. After the tears stopped, he realized there was one bright spot to the situation. He could now remove the pear tree! However, he didn't feel quite comfortable destroying it, so he asked his gardener to transplant it into the forest that grew up to the edge of his manicured lawns. Soon, he forgot entirely of the tree's existence, as is so often the case when something is no longer seen.

Years past, as they do in this world, and Sam met and married a beautiful lady with a heart of...well, silver, I'd say, though I can be no judge. A child joined their family, and though he grew quickly, his curiosity and adventurous spirit seemed to grow even faster. His heart, also, grew, and he loved to care for all people and all things as best he could.

One day, the little boy was examining a brightly-colored beetle which had settled on a blade of grass near his feet. He glanced back up and realized that his nanny had wondered toward the house with the cook, and neither of them were paying him any mind at all.

For ever so long as he could remember, the forest, so near to where he now stood, had beckoned the little boy, each tree reaching out it's soft needles and bright leaves toward him as if to welcome him into their shade. He did enjoy the many shade trees of the manicured lawn which he knew so well, but something about that wild forest was more enticing than he could quite bear. So, after another glance at his nanny, he scampered toward the trees, promising himself he would only take a look and hurry back, so that she need not worry.

His breathing shallowed as the excitement welled in his chest. He was finally going into the woods! The wild trees, so fresh and alive thrilled him! The small, perfectly shaped trees in his yard were not nearly so vibrant! This—this was a true garden! He reached a gentle hand to caress the bark of each tree as he passed it. Every small flower or fallen twig or mushroom he passed received the full attention of his childish scrutiny. A small, happy sigh escaped from his lips as he sat down on a small, mossy rock and leaned back. Snippets of blue and sunshine peaked through the puzzle of leaves and branches shivering above his head in the breeze. He smiled and slowly turned to peer in each direction.

Suddenly, his attention was caught by a...leaf? No, it couldn't be a leaf. It barely moved with the wind that caused the leaves to dance. Is it...? A pear! And more pears! A whole tree full of pears! He let out a delighted cry and ran to grab one of the fruit. On the second hop, he snagged one of the pears, and bit into it with the greatest delight. Juice filled his mouth and trickled out as the sweetness melted on his tongue. I wonder how this pear tree came to be here, he wondered.

The little boy had found his grandmother's pear tree. The gardener, commissioned to replant the tree, had simply tossed it into the woods, thinking none would ever know, and there was no need to plant it, anyway. The tree, lying on the ground just a few yards from the gardens of its former home, did not give up so easily. The sun, peeking through the other trees, encouraged it to lift up its head and grow taller. It's roots had slowly found their way into the ground, digging deeply to soak in the nutrients the earth provided. Day by day, year by year, that little tree grew, becoming stronger and stronger to get more and more nutrients in spite of the other trees competing for them. Every fall its branches drooped with luscious pears, refreshing the rare traveler that passed beneath its limbs. The tree, so well cultivated in its youth, yet thrown into intense adversity while still young, had overcome that drawback, and reached upward toward the life-giving sun and thrived, producing pears sweeter than any tree that was fully cultivated could ever grow.

As the little boy savored each delicious bite, he examined the gnarled tree. All the trees around it grew straight and true toward the heavens, but this tree grew up from the roots, then its trunk curved, stretching across the ground for a few feet before bending back upwards in it's thirst for sunlight.

A voice startled him from his contemplation. He turned and ran back to where his nanny stood, looking around for him.

The next day, the little boy took his father to see the tree. Sam rarely took the time to go outside with his son, and would normally never venture into the woods off of his property. But, when he heard of a pear tree, his mind vibrated with memories of his mother and the tree that had stood in his front yard where now a beautiful, but thorny rosebush grew.

A lump rose into Sam's throat as the pear tree came into view. The sight of the gnarled tree struck his heart, causing him to realize how much he had pushed his family out of his life. If he didn't take time with them and make them a priority, would they, too, become gnarled and twisted?

He lifted his young son on his shoulders so that he could reach more of the pears. The little boy handed the first one he grabbed to Sam, who bit into gingerly, humming with delight when he discovered how fresh and sweet it tasted. He and his son sat down on trunk, where it stretched across the ground, and Sam told the little boy the story of the tree. Both sat for a few moments when he finished, letting the sounds of the forest flow around them after he finished.

Dad?” the little boy held out his hand to his father.

Yes?” Sam asked, engulfing the small hand in his own.

“Can we put the tree back in our yard?”

Sam reached out a finger to follow the pattern of the tree's bark. The tree was bent. It would look terribly out of place next to the straight and carefully trimmed trees already in his yard. But it was his mother's tree, he thought, looking into his son's eyes. And it was beautiful in its own unique and wild way. “You know, I never liked that rosebush right there, anyway,” he told his son. “Let's put the tree right back where it was before!”

Father and son walked hand in hand back to the shed, where they themselves got the necessary tools and returned to the forest to transplant the tree another time, back to its place in the front yard. It fast became their tree. They always worked on it together, and they came and sat on it's sideways trunk together, and they ate it's sweet and juicy pears together every fall. And anyone who visited Sam's home paused by the pear tree, surprised at it's bent shape amidst the perfectly manicured gardens, and even more surprised at the wild strength and beauty that the misshapen pear tree possessed.

The Cat's Pajamas

2006-08-06T18:32:00.000-04:00

I have news to share with you. Last Friday, twelve people, the same number of sleeping bags, a few tents, some clothes, and a few boxes of food all migrated together about two hours northwest of Skotselv to a lake sprinkled all over with little islands. I was one of those happy twelve. I'll tell you about the trip later, but first I must share with you the event that took place on the road as we drove toward this idyllic lake. As the seven of us who shared a van made our way down the road, a movement on the roadside interrupted our steady forward motion. As the driver slowed, the passenger sitting in the seat sometimes known as shotgun called out a single word that changed my experience in Norway irreversibly. In a voice that carried clearly throughout the van, she exclaimed, "Moose!" I jolted upright and leaned over the seat in front of me to see more clearly this long hoped-for sight. Indeed it was moose. And not just a single moose on the other side of a large field, so far that he could be mistaken for a boulder (or vice versa). A mother and her two mooselings were making their way across the road not thirty feet away from our headlights. I gazed in awe as the magnificent display of God's creation passed before my eyes. Others in the car responded with similar excitement but in different ways. One who was next to me jumped and shouted, "Moose! Where? Whoooooaaaaaa!" in a voice that carried out the windows and into the ears of the astonished animals. Their leisurely stroll turned into a quick trot and they galloped away into the woods, increasing their speed when another member of our party began to pound on the windows in her excitement. My gaze followed them until our movement in a different direction from theirs tore them from my vision. Then, I leaned back and sighed with joy. At last, I have seen moose in Norway. That is the fourth and final goal I absolutely had decided to accomplish while living in that great country. My sojourn there is now a fulfilled one, and time is the only thing that keeps me there. Not that I mind. I intend to fully enjoy this coming year that I have commited to staying there. (By the way, more on the camping trip when I get all the photos together from that and put it on my photosite. I'll let you know as soon as that happens.) Part of enjoying that is enjoying my work, which has been leading me to different parts of the world in quick succession this summer. It has led me most recently to Dallas, Texas, where I am currently sitting in my room at the Gaylord Texan. The Adventist-laymen Services and Industries (ASI) convention took place here from Wednesday to Sabbath of the past week, and my coworker, Erin, and I have been here to represent the Heartgood Foundation with booth and smile. God has blessed, allowing us to talk with many people who have interests in our project for various reasons. We look forward to seeing the results of our time spent here. Also, it's been a great opportunity to run into some old friends and make a few new ones. Another invaluable part of the convention is the inspiring meetings. The messages, music and testimonies have shown me a little piece of what heaven must be like. Of course, the hotel itself has also been an important part of making this a pleasant trip. For those of you who are familiar with the Opryland hotel, picture it Texas style. That is where I'm staying. The lobby is full of gardens and moc-buildings and streams. Waterfalls pour into the outdoor pool at intervals, and we are welcome to try some of the grapes growing in the vineyard that stretches out beside the jogging trails. I have taken more pleasure in the steam room and sauna here than anywhere before. After dropping off my stuff in a locker and enjoying some super hot wet or dry air with a cup of lemon or cucumber water nearby to cool me off when I wish it, I can hop into a shower with the provided shampoo, conditioner, bath gel, razor and shaving cream. When I've finished there and wrapped a giant towel around myself and a smaller one around my hair, I can grab a q-tip, cotton balls, a fresh toothbrush and mouthwash, if I'd like, and some body lotion. Then, once I've gotten dressed, I'm free to do my hair with their sanitized combs and mousse, hairspray, gel, or whatever else I need. There is no longer a need to use the shower in my room or my own toiletries if I would rather not. I can pamper myself as much as I please for the remaining night that I am staying here. So I have gotten a small taste of the lifestyle of the rich and famous. And being just after a weekend of island camping heightened the contrast. After this experience, I've concluded that I am still content wherever I am. Too much of either of those extremes would quickly grow old, but a happy middle ground with a few variations from time to time is quite a pleasant way to go about it. So, I praise God for putting me where I am, and continuing to lead me as I go forward in life.

Forming good habits

2006-07-28T05:01:00.000-04:00

Last week, at campmeeting, we had some amazing speakers. One of them talked about different ways of getting into the habit of spending time with God, and I don't think I'll ever forget it.

If you currently aren't spending time in prayer in the mornings, hide one of your shoes far under your bed before going to sleep at night. Then, when you wake up, you'll have to hunt for your shoe, and when you remember where it is, you'll have to get on your knees to reach under the bed for it. While you're down there, say hello to God! It's just a few seconds, but it's a start, and let it grow.

If reading the Bible isn't as high a priority as it should be, lay it, open on top of your TV every morning. Then, reach back, and unplug your TV. When you return from work, and settle down to watch TV, you'll realize that it's turned off. As you reach behind it, you can't miss the Bible on top, so read a verse while you're there. Again, start out small, and it will become a bigger and bigger part of your life.

Well, I've got quite a few habits I need to develop more strongly. One of those is writing in my blog. So, I simply need to think of a method for making it impossible not to do so! Well, for a blog I may not do that.... But, I could come up with a couple ideas, even so...

Bravo Italia

2006-07-13T04:41:00.000-04:00

I'm sure every other blog has already commented on the game. But, since I have been in England, and not had a chance to get online since it took place, mine is coming a little late.

The World Cup Final this year was the first football (real football, not the American sport) match I ever watched in entirety (on screen, that is). And I enjoyed it! I was rooting for Italy. My condolences to all of you who sided with the French. To my untrained eye, I thought both sides played well! I cheered for the Italians, only because I watched it with many Europeans, and the Italian cheering section was more in need of voices than the French. As I watched, though, I became more attached to the Italian team! They were more fun to watch. At the beginning, at least, they were more smooth with their feet, and tended to keep the ball closer to the French goal. They seemed a little more tired after halftime.

I could comment on some of the calls and the goals, but since that's been done over and over, I won't. Not even to discuss the headbutt. I just want to mention something that impressed me about the Italians. From my vantage point, many of them practiced great sportsmanship. No, not all of them, but many. I saw an Italian reach down to help up his opponent at least three times. Also, they didn't seem malicious in their play. As a general rule, it was not the Italians who were grabbing faces, etc. They are not perfect, that's for sure, but I appreciated their overall sportsmanship. So, my congratulations to Italy!

And, I must send my condolences to France. I wish both teams could have won, for both were amazing teams! I cheered when Italy won, but a part of me was sad for the dashed dreams of France. So, rock on, France! You've won before, and you will again.

Good game, everyone!

On flirting...

2006-07-13T04:39:00.000-04:00

I'm not a natural when it comes to flirting. I can flirt back, usually, but that's about the extent of it. Every so often, though, I forget this fact, and make an effort even so. Last Saturday night was one of those times.

I attended a convention in England, and while there, we had a gala dinner. It was a posh evening, with fancy dishes, friendly chit-chat and silly entertainment. Very much like every other gala in many ways, but I enjoyed myself nonetheless. Soon after I sat down at my place, I noticed one of the men working there, manning the drink station (I would say bar, but it was completely non-alcoholic in this case, so I don't want to send the wrong impression). You know how it is, sometimes a person will catch your eye, and you'll ponder ways to talk to that person. Well, I was with a friend, and I mentioned him to her. I'm sure you also know how that is. She, of course, egged me on.

Well, I saw him going around and pouring juice, etc. into some people's glasses. So, with a little nudging from my friend, I went over to him while he was behind the bar and asked for a glass of pineapple juice. Then, of course, my courage left me, and I said nothing more as he dropped in some ice and poured the juice into the glass. He smiled, set it on the bar, and said “1.60.”

Well, my heart jerked at that. No, his voice wasn't so stunning. I simply had never considered the idea that it might cost something. I assumed everything was included in the dinner. It would explain, of course, why he didn't come around to all the tables to offer.

Well, I had no money, of course. I fumbled for what I could do, and looked and felt quite silly. He was a gentleman and told me not to worry about it. I apologized and thanked him, then turned away, red-faced, to return to my table.

So, again, I am reminded that, in my case, it's better to just smile and let the guy do the approaching. However, the experience wasn't so bad all around. It did give me another reason to laugh (always a good thing, even when it's at myself) and a free glass of pineapple juice (never something to complain about).

On the rope

2006-07-04T03:57:00.000-04:00

Ever tried to walk a tight-rope? Literally, I mean. I'm not talking about the metaphorical balancing act. I decided sometime last fall that I would really like to learn to walk on a tight-rope. Well, slack-line, really, if we want to get specific. My balance is not the most impressive, and I thought it sounded like a good cure for such an ailment. If I can walk across a tiny rope, surely then I would be able to stand up on a big solid floor without tipping! That's my philosophy, anyway.

Well, I've walked on a couple of slightly rope-like things (my roommate's foot board, the railing along the road by my house...) since then. But it wasn't until today that I actually got to try prancing across a real rope! And guess what! So far, I'm terrible!

I passed a friend who was trying it as I walked to the store, so I stopped to try it out myself. We took turns for about thirty minutes or so. He had been trying for a couple hours, and while I was there, he crossed the whole rope, turned around, and took a couple steps back! My most successful attempt landed me on the ground about four feet from where I started. Then, I needed to run so that I could make it to the store.

On the rope, I felt like a little child, learning to walk. First, I could barely stand, holding on to something and shaking like the last leaf on a tree in the fall wind. Slowly, I was able to stand on my own, and then take a step! Five steps is the most I took, but I'm so happy for those!

The moral of the story? If you're starting to feel old, learn something new! You'll feel like a little baby again! =p

2006-07-03T03:12:00.000-04:00

I'm single. No, I'm not announcing that so you'll look me up or anything. It's merely a fact. One I'm quite content with at this point in my life. My best friend was just married, and someone commented that I ought to be careful about being a bridesmaid too many times. You know the saying, “always a bridesmaid, never a bride.” Well, I do appreciate the concern, but as I've told many people, I'm having a great time being single, and I will remain so until I meet the man that I can enjoy living with even more than I enjoy being single. I want marital bliss, not a marital mishap.

I crossed six time zones on Thursday/Friday, and my sleeping schedule hasn't quite adapted. So, this morning, I gave up trying to sleep at 1:00am. It's actually one of the best things I could have done! It's a little after 3:00am as I write this (having no internet in my home, I'll have to post it later) and I've spent the last two hours reading and praying. And I'm still wide awake, so I'll keep doing this, with a break for a morning run, until it's time to get ready for work! In my reading, I've been catching up in my devotional books. I've been doing a lot of travel, and I usually don't take the space to pack all three of my devotional books along with my Bible and journal. So, I've gotten quite behind. The thought that inspired this particular entry was written for the 30^th of May. It comes from the devotional Sanctuary by David Jeremiah, and is entitled “Single Peace.” It's not the most profound page I have ever read, but it's beautiful and true in it's simplicity. That's why I'd like to share it. Maybe you're not single, but it doesn't only apply to looking for a mate. It applies to any search or desire that fills your life and distracts from God. I won't retype the whole thing, just the last three paragraphs.

“Seeking marriage is not wrong, but don't let that search dominate your life. We must not make finding a marriage partner the supreme goal of our lives by putting all our energies into searching fore a mate. We must learn to be in God's will. A very wise person said, “There is something far worse than single loneliness, and that is marital misery.” Learn contentment for it is great gain.

“If God has a mate for you, He knows how to bring the two of you together. Don't take things into your own hands.

“Wherever you are, whatever your situation, use the time to grow both mentally and spiritually.”

Entering Blogdom

2006-07-03T03:09:00.000-04:00

Change. It's a simple enough word, just one syllable, and neither very pretty nor very ugly. But what that one word can mean! It brings a cringe to the hearts of some and a quiver of fear to others. In my heart, though, it causes a leap of curious excitement!

Not quite a year has passed since I began living and working in my current position. My job is filled with excitement and creativity and never a moment of dullness. Yet, I'm already looking forward to a change! I've come through many in the past year, some very negative, but these are not enough. I'm ready to do more, to go somewhere else, to meet, head-on, the next great challenge in life!

Yet, I'm also ready to thoroughly enjoy the coming year here in this position. But I guess that is part of the reason I've started this blog. It's just a little thing, but it's new and different, and therefore exciting. A little bit more of the change I crave in life!

So, welcome me to the blogging world. I've yet to keep a journal for more than nine weeks straight, but I have high hopes for changing that about myself as well! Check back in 10 weeks to see how I'm doing :)

(btw: actual date of this writing was the evening of July 2)