A Man Chasing After Jesus

In the movie "War Room," Priscilla Shirer, aka Elizabeth, says, "I would rather have a man chasing after Jesus than a house full of stuff."  When I heard this, tears sprung to my eyes, because it is exactly what I needed to hear in the midst of our transition.  YES!  YES!  YES!

I do not tell Roy or others often enough what a wonderful man I am married to.  If you moved, there is a a 99% chance my husband assisted in some way - usually in the form of a trailer, pick-up, and muscles.

Church work days?  He's one of the first ones there and last to leave, gathering all the supplies to make it possible to actually do the needed chores.

Quaker Hill Work Weekend?  When not attending a graduation for our little school, he is the one you'll see on the roof tops.

 He has taught all of our children the value of hard work and doing things the right way the first time:

What's more is he build things for his wifey, me, that he does not even want!  Like this chicken coop, here.  He hates chickens... but loves fresh eggs, so we compromised and got chickens.

Beyond work, he is the one encouraging and supporting our children's sense of adventure:

I was thinking this morning that on Mother's Day people rave about single moms and how hard it is to be a single mom and how they have to be both mother and father... when I married my husband, he was a single dad.  He has always been a wonderful daddy and I am so honored to journey with him in life as we parent all our children and learn how to be better parents as we grow up, too.

Thanks, Roy.  Let's Hear it for the Boy!  You are my man!

Happy Father's Day, honey.  As we transition into a different phase of life, I know I can do it because you are at my side.  Home is where we are.  As cheesy as it sounds, it true - we make a house a home and I think we do a pretty good job of it no matter the building, or how big or small it is.

A Few of My Favorite Javi Posts

Because I can, today's post is in honor of my baby's 8th birthday.  Scrolling through past posts, I did the leg work for you and if you want to take a trip down memory lane, just start clicking on the links!

Two Babies - a look into the life of Javi and Zorro

Paco and Javi - days gone by.

Javi's birth announcement!  I read it to him each March 12th, including this morning.

Turning one!

Two years old!

Playing in the tree box!

Compassion Brother and new Bible.

I now know I lost the battle to his fingers.

I could do this all day but homework is calling me and today is a busy day, with it being a special someone's birthday! 

Enjoy this sweet video of Java singing a song he wrote:

I will close with saying this young man loves Jesus and while we are reading through the Gospels for Lent, his heart has hurt so many times over the way Jesus was treated.  He hates to cry in front of others but his heart is tender and he is full of compassion.  He is one of the blessings I count every day.

Quaker Gratitude

As I sit on the beautiful deck, here at Quaker Hill, I cannot help but think of the Friends who saw a need for a camp decades ago and gave of themselves in every way to make it possible. 

All across the country, you will find Friends camps, some are primitive and some are posh. They all are a blessing and meet needs while they provide a peaceful setting to minister in.

Again, I am extremely grateful for the men and women who have seen and met needs then so my needs can be met now; and I can help meet other people's needs.

Peace out.  I have some basking in God's glory to do.
 

#Quakers #Quakerwomen #Quakerhill

Home is Where the Heart Is

I have a guest writer today, my dear daughter, Melynda.  Reach for your tissues, I know I did.  (Choice of photos are from yours truly.)

The packing is mundane and tedious work. It takes an unusual amount of time. I keep getting distracted with the goodbyes. Not all of them are “good-bye”, most of them get to be “see you later! “ The goodbyes are painful and sad; the others are hopeful and happy.

It is Christmas break. We are going home! To each of us that looks like something different. To some it looks like snow and mountains. To others, it looks like a farmhouse on the plains. What does it look like to me? I wonder.

 Is it my beloved mountains?

 

 

 Is it my cozy small town?

 Is it my crazy and excited black lab? 

 

 Is it my giant white cement house?

 Is it the Christmas tree in the window?

All of these things mean a great deal to me, but I don’t think that they encompass the feeling of home. What is it?

My thoughts are distracted by another friend coming to say, “See you in January” I look at my suitcase and notice that I still have a lot of packing to do before tomorrow. I notice that I also need to clean my room. I am just ready to go home. There it is again, that word, home. What does it mean to me?

Is it my family?

 

Is it my church?

 

Is it the school I grew up in?

 

Or is it my old stuffed animals?

Yet again, I cannot pinpoint what that word means to me. I shrug off the thought. I simply want to finish my work so that I can go to sleep. It is starting to get late. After an hour, my work is done. I am all packed; all except for my necessities for the morning. My room is clean, cleaner than it has been all semester. My bed is calling my name. I turn out the lights and fall into a deep and blissful sleep.

Its morning, I am anxious to get home. I have one test to get through. In the middle of the test I am thinking about my family. How am I supposed to be able to focus so close to leaving? It is impossible. I am at the point that I don’t care anymore; I just want to be home. I am still trying to figure out what home means to me.

Is it my mom’s house?

Is it my dad’s house?

Is it my grandparent’s house?

Is it my favorite coffee shop?

Or is it the 19 25 chickens that strut around in my yard?

I am almost done with my test. I think I have done well, but yet again, I don’t care. The test is over and I am on the long drive to the airport. I sleep most of the way there, dreaming about what home is.

I am at the airport. I am embarrassed when I have to stop and ask for directions. I was a little late to get to the airport so now I am rushing to get through security. I am sweating and I am afraid that I am going to miss my flight. What will I do if that happens? How will I get home? Home… what does that mean for me?

I finally made it to my gate, ten minutes before we board. I am relieved. I am so close to going home and yet, it feels so far away. I sit in my seat. I put in my head phones and watch a movie during my two and a half hour flight.

I come back to reality by the sound of the flight attendant’s voice. “Can I take your trash?” “Yeah, thanks.” “We will be landing shortly.”  That statement made me eager to get off the plane. We finally land. I have all my stuff together; I am just ready to get off of this plane. I feels like we taxied forever. It took so long. My knowledge that my family was waiting for me down the corridor, on the other side of the doors made me excited.

We finally arrived at our gate, the seat belt sign is taken off. I jump up so quickly that I hit my head on the overhead compartment. I step into the middle isle as soon as possible. Finally I am off the plane, my heart starts racing. I am practically running through the terminal. I round the corner and I can see my family through the glass door, my heart starts skipping beats because it is racing so quickly.  I walk through those glass doors and my heart warms.

 

I drop all my bags as my two youngest brothers leap into my arms yelling, “You’re finally home!”  I am crying now. My little sister gives me a huge hug, “I’m glad your home,” She says. My grandparents are there too, they both hug me and say that they are glad to see me.

 My dad gives me a huge hug and a kiss, “I am happy you are home mija.”

I finally get to my mom. She has tears streaming down her face. She gives me a hug, a hugs she has been wanting to give me since I left, lots of hugs all put into one. “I have missed you” she whispers into my ear. I feel my body relax in her arms; I feel all the stress from school fall away. “Welcome home,” she says to me.

Yes.

I am home.

I now realize what home is: It is the love of the people that I love, the love that has supported me through everything. It is the love of my family.

 

 

 

 

P.S. I get to wrap my arms around my baby girl tomorrow night, God willing.  Love, Moma  

My Honest Shopping Helper!

Yesterday, I went shopping for sunglasses and a swimsuit. I figured sunglasses would be easiest & fastest so started there. After trying on several pair, I asked Jav what he thought of "these ones."

He turned and busted out laughing saying, "you look ridiculous!"

Back on the turn thingy they went. So went the glasses experience. He, however, found a pair for him & his brother. Hmmmm.

Giving up on glasses, we moved to suits. I knew what I was after and since I now am dressing my truth, I quickly pulled out 4 suits to try on.

Suit #1: "okay, Jav, what do you think?"

"Oh no! There's way too much 'booby crack' (aka cleavage)!" I'll also have you know I have never said or heard that term
in my life!

Off with that one!

Suit #2: "uh, mom, it shows your bum."

Okay, then!

Suit #3: "this is good mom. See how it comes up high & covers your bum? That means you can wear it too see Roosbell.* Plus, it's red!" (His favorite color.)

Yay! A real swimsuit (you know, one piece that has racer back that "real swimmers" wear.

Suit #4: Black Nike tankini with cute swim skirt bottoms.

"Well, it shows a little 'booby crack' but not too much & it looks good on you. The bottom is good because it covers ALL of your bum and if you don't shave nobody will see it." (Insert red face here.)

We came home with two suits and a bonus one since the red suit is fully reversible to all black!

I can only imagine what the sales lady standing outside our door folding clothes thought!

Thanking The Lord for my honest shopping helper.

*Roosbell is our Compassion child I just visited in Ecuador. In Jav's mind, this means I need to 'be covered up!'

The Babe in the Manger

 This was sung in 2008 or 2009.  It's not the best of recording but I love that we have it to cherish. 
It's one of my favorite Christmas songs as it reminds us that the babe in the manger is Christ on the Cross. 

 ~ Merry Christmas! ~

 

 THE BABE IN THE MANGER
 

Do you worship the Babe in the manger,
But reject the Christ of the Cross?
Your redemption comes not by the manger,
But the death of Christ on the Cross.

Refrain: The Babe in the manger was God’s only Son,
Who came to the world to die.
The Babe in the manger could never have done
The work of His God on high.
 

If you worship the Babe in the manger,
But ignore the blood of God’s Son,
To you Christ is only a stranger,
Til you trust the work He has done.
 

The Babe left the manger and went to the Cross
To pay the wages of sin.
Your way of forgiveness is not by the Babe,
But the Christ who died for your sin.

– W. S. and Mildred Dillon

1961 by Good News Broadcasting Assoc. Inc.

"Songs You Love No.6" ~ Ruth I Johnson.

Christmas From Days Gone By

From my Great-Grandma Elda Brown's journal:

1934

1935

1936 all she says is, "Roy & Marie came to spend the holidays.  We have our family tree at Kenneth's."

1937, my Great-Grandma Elda received the following:

Table Cloth, Purse, sandwich dish, gown, dresser scarf, book ends, dog ornament, picture, picture of baby, handkerchief.

In 1938 she lists her gifts:
K & M (my grandparents) - Material for dress
Roy & Marie - House slippers
Gladys & Lout - Underwear
Hazel - Motto
A.C. - Parka hood
Vena & Allie - Pillow top, 2 pr. hose

After searching what a motto, is, here is what I have concluded:

It's a cross-stitched saying/print!  Am I correct?

I think my grandma knew what #itsaboutgiving is all about. 

Friends

If I was asked who my first friend ever was, I would have to say Robyn.  She was my first long-term friend BY CHOICE.  Meaning, we weren't friends because our parents were friends or we went to the same class or school or church but we were friends because we WANTED to be friends.  I'm not saying the other kinds of friends aren't as important or lasting but for me, Robyn is the one I think of when asked my first friend. 

We were such unusual choices for each other.  I am three years younger (despite our hair color), she moved away when I was 8 years old and our families were total opposite!  But God knew.  He knew we needed each other and would be able to fall back to each other 30 + years later!!!

My best-est moved to Metlakatla, Alaska when I was 8 years old.  It's such a remote place that at the time it was a true island and you had to take the ferry or fly in.  Now, I believe there is one road/bridge connecting it to the mainland.  That's neither here nor there... she moved a long long ways away and even our letters (YES, SNAIL MAIL!!!) took forever to reach each other.  She has since moved "towards civilization" while remaining in Alaska...thanks to phones, e-mail and God, we have remained fast friends. 

We were such good friends that whenever she came "home" to see her grandparents, we always met up.  I always cried when she left.  There was just a void.  Can I just say, it feels the same today.  I am teary just thinking about her leaving today.

We got some extra time with her kiddos on Friday and made use of the pool and our cool basement as these poor Alaska folks are melting in our 90 degree temps!

Our boys hit it right off and already, they are asking for their new buddy.

What a great group of kids!  This is a combo group of hers, mine and her brother's daughter in the picture.  Who cares, we're all family.

My boys joined right in on their family photo.  I used to do the same when I was their age and feel such a part of this family. 

The kids just played well together and got along:

The little ones, mine is 5 and hers is 6, held hands and went round and round in circles!

12 years ago I went and saw her in AK and 11 years ago I joined crashed their family reunion in Montana.  3 years ago we introduced our children and after this time together, we can't wait to see each other again. 

Perhaps a trip to Alaska is in order?

San Sebastian Coffee!

I told you recently how much I missed my Mexico coffee from the Siera Madres in San Sebastian, Jalisco, Mexico.

Yesterday, we made the trip back to my most favorite coffee plantation, okay, the only coffee plantation I have ever been to.  It's still my favorite!

I was not disappointed.  We toured the grounds, stayed to our designated places since it is an organic farm and loved seeing everything in person.

From limones on the trees:

 To dulce (sweets) made on site:

 200 year old scales that are still used to measure kilos:

 Here are the dulce customers:

 And yours truly posing with 1/2 kilo of coffee.  The rest had to be boxed up and hauled out to the car.  I don't want to say how much I bought our of fear you think I have a problem...

I'm glad I'll be drinking my cafe for months to come.  I figure as fresh as these beans are (yesterday) I can use them for a few months and have them still be fresher than some I get at home!

My Moma

I love my Moma so much!  Let me show you what I love.

Her sense of adventure and love of traveling:

Her love of soaking up the sun:

Her love of hats:

Her love of many style of hats!

I love that she always has an emory board or nail file with her.

I love that she can also file her nails anywhere, anytime no matter how annoying of a sound it makes to those around her - and I really love that she has no idea that it's annoying!

What has my Moma taught me that I am forever grateful?

Her willingness to help others:
(church nursey attendent for ions)

It is never to hot or cold outside or in for hot coffee and hot water!

How to love:

(married 52 years this June!)

To step out of our comfort zone and have fun:

Being frugal creates wonderful memories!
(and better food than McD's!)

She's taught me how to keep and cherish dear friends:

Distance doesn't matter:

Nor does time:

(friends below since 1960)

Even from childhood school days:

(we're talking grade school!)

and hand written letters still exist and will keep a friendship alive for decades. 

From my Moma I've learned that family can be our best friends, too:

Family is very important.  She's taught me that our loved ones won't always be here so we need to visit them while we can.

No matter how far Missouri is from Idaho.

She's shown me that it is never too late to get to know family; really know them.

She's teaching me how to be an awesome Nana.

and to not be afraid to hang on to a young child when going down a steep trail.

 I see a picture of my Moma sitting in a park in Alaska, on WiFi and know that one is never too old to learn! 
Nor is one ever too old to wear black leather biking gear...

I've learned to slow down and enjoy the sights.

and girl time is very important.

She's taught me contentment.

and to love hats.

She shows me everyday how much she loves me:

even going to the water park when she doesn't like water.

and playing games that she doesn't enjoy but one would never know that.

She's taught me how to be a good sport.  I think I mentioned she doesn't care for water:

 But she loves being warm.  And hats.

She has taught me to love coffee and hot water; as well. 

I have to say, though, without a doubt, the most important thing my Moma has ever done for me is shown me by her example how to be the hands of feet of Jesus. 

To be continued...