The Wurglers

Day 1: Finally boarded the train and I have been riding in luxury for about 4 hours already. I've successfully read 68 pages of my book, dined on fine Asian cuisine (Ramen noodles), and taken a 40 minute nap. Travelling without kids is a tad different than this. I woke up just now to beautiful country-side, a far cry from the urban jungle I am used to. However, the white haze lingers and follows wherever I go, like a shadow. This is not my first time on a train in this country but it was the first time I got to experience the euphoria of the wonderful train station we traveled out of today. Wowsa. That place make the craziest airport feel like Sesame Street. The train station is, I've decided, the Mecca for pushing, for shoving and frantic looks, not to mention sweat-stained clothing: backs with a finger lake reaching  south-ward to belt lines, necks with deep end pools which lazily bottom out to rotund bowls and armpits with crater lakes beneath them. Hey, it's hot. ...

I'm frantically running through my daily life, grasping for things that I think will make me matter, make me worthy.  Suddenly.... The Voice.... in my heart.  Like a depth charge in my soul.  A single utterance that breaks through my chaos, my defenses, my fruitless clawing for significance.  The Voice that with a single word makes me drop to the ground and cover my head.  A burst of soul-deep emotion breaks through... cuts through the desert of passionless nothing.... A feeling of shame and acceptance.... only in the Presence of one Person can both exist together.  The striving ends... the busyness of fighting battles in my own strength that He has already won for me.  Will I lay down my pride and my desire to earn everything given to me... this desire that is ingrained into the fabric of my flesh... Will I lay it down and RECEIVE the love of the One to whom this Voice belongs?  Will I RECEIVE from the One who holds back nothing from me?  Wi...

Anyone need some socks?

A couple of weeks ago I had the opportunity to take a development class in another city in our country. I flew down with some friends a little unsure because anytime you are taking a seminary level class entitled "Sexuality and Sex Counseling" you might be setting yourself up for something major. Well, the "major" I had in mind really didn't prepare me for what I was going to encounter. I didn't have a lot of expectations, but even the ones I did have were completely annihilated halfway through Day 1's material when the professor said "Everyone has been abused and everyone will be an abuser themselves." Here's what I processed and wrote on January 8, during the week I was taking the class... I have learned that, regarding abuse, no one is safe. I was a victim of different kinds, although minor compared to others' stories. I am and have been the abuser. And everyone I know has lived out both those roles as well in some capacity in ...

Its been a while since I've put one of these up, but given the Christmas season, I thought I would share this great gift idea for that "TARNSFROEMRS" lover in your life.

This past weekend I had the opportunity to travel with a group of women from our church to a foster home/orphange in another city.  I was glad for some time away and a chance to actually be out "doing" something in this country.  My wonderful husband manned the homefront all by himself for 4 days- bless his soul.  It was.... a journey.... as I learned about the orphan situation in this country and got to interact with many of the special needs children being cared for there.  I wrote this on the train ride home: One of the first things I noticed as we walked into the building was the word "SEE" written on the wall.  My own journey of late had surfaced hard questions and the thought of "seeing" the reality of true hurt and brokenness in these sick children... well, would my heart and faith take the hit?   Could I SEE? Or would my heart turn away?  Could I look into the eyes of the child whom it would never be possible for me to adopt b...

I am the type of person who keeps a to-do list.  When Aaron and I first got married, he despised seeing one of my sticky note to-do lists lying around.  Perhaps it was the quantity of sticky notes or it may have been the things that were written on the lists.  Nothing crushes spontaneity and fun like having to check something off a list.  But I feel good about checking things off.  I feel good about producing.  I feel like I'm useful when I can produce something even when all it is is taking a shower (yes, as a mother of small children, it has to go on my list every now and then).  I hop on my production treadmill and ramp up the speed.  Washed the guest room sheets, check.  Made pumpkin bread, check.  Paid the bills, check.  And then I up the speed a little more.  Updated the baby books, check.  Organized family photos, check.  The treadmill is whirring and I am sprinting.  Created new fall decorations for our h...