Transference

The Boy has made his initial school transfer to our area. We're still waiting for word about which credits will be accepted for transfer. In his self-paced program, he was a senior in standing needing only one and a half credits to graduate. Our local district has a different set of requirements (no technology course required, but two years Foreign Language required and three years preferred) for graduation. In the meantime, he has taken almost every possible Social Studies, Math, and Science course available at any level which will make it difficult to concoct a full day's schedule of classes if he needs to continue through next year to complete his credits.
The benefit of delaying his graduation until 2013 is to have the full graduation with the same class he entered kindergarten with in 2000. That means ordering formal announcements and senior photos, walking across the stage to receive his diploma with peers, and all the general pomp and circumstance surrounding the milestone. There is definitely an up side to delay in this instance. On the other hand, he's already earned some college credit. Rejoining the high school population after working at his own pace and gaining experience with college level courses has limited appeal. With a desire to get a job, the high school diploma and flexibility of a college schedule could make The Boy more attractive to potential employers as well. Either way, he is looking forward to finding the rhythms of a new routine.

2011 Holiday Home Tour

Time for the 2011 Holiday Home Tour coordinated by Jen on the edge. The spiffy, collectible Hallmark ornaments probably made the move, but there's no telling just where the box came to rest in the attic of New House. The important kid-made ornaments are all on the tree. This is a vast improvement over last year's sad, mostly naked branches. (At least the lights, star, and garland made it on before the 2010 Holiday Home Tour. That was definitely not a given.) Not that there's a tremendous difference in the look of the Christmas decor around here aside from the less indifferent application.



There was a vast difference between last year's apathetic (at best) decorating and this year's day-after-the-day-after Thanksgiving festivities. Still reeling from the Boy's sudden departure from our midst, it was a challenge to find desire for anything remotely festive. This year, that circumstance remains, but we worked around it. Rather than a family affair, Middle Child's two BFF's helped fluff the wish-I-was-pine tree, draped themselves and, eventually, the tree in garland and ornaments, and generally made the whole chore genuinely merry with their antics.

 

Middle Child and the Best Kind of Friends



Skater Girl and Middle Child

 

Maurice

Last night I sat waiting in a coffee shop to be joined by a pair of ladies who were coming from a women's Bible study. I was reading my unrelated study guide when the waiter, who had already been told I was waiting for friends, asked about my booklet. He was politely curious about whether or not we were meeting at the restaurant for our Bible study. Explaining that we went to different churches, the conversation took an interesting turn as Maurice expressed his faith in God and in Christ but expressed that church was not really for him and said without saying that he'd been burned at some point along the way.
Excited, I flipped to the pages in the guide featuring the following Scripture that felt right for Maurice:

 "36 Then one of the Pharisees invited Him to eat with him. He entered the Pharisee's house and reclined at the table. 37 And a woman in the town who was a sinner found out that Jesus was reclining at the table in the Pharisee's house. She brought an alabaster flask of fragrant oil 38 and stood behind Him at His feet, weeping, and began to wash His feet with her tears. She wiped His feet with the hair of her head, kissing them and anointing them with the fragrant oil.

    39 When the Pharisee who had invited Him saw this, he said to himself, "This man, if He were a prophet, would know who and what kind of woman this is who is touching Him—she's a sinner!"

    40 Jesus replied to him, "Simon, I have something to say to you."

    "Teacher," he said, "say it."

    41 "A creditor had two debtors. One owed 500 denarii, and the other 50. 42 Since they could not pay it back, he graciously forgave them both. So, which of them will love him more?"

    43 Simon answered, "I suppose the one he forgave more."

    "You have judged correctly," He told him. 44 Turning to the woman, He said to Simon, "Do you see this woman? I entered your house; you gave Me no water for My feet, but she, with her tears, has washed My feet and wiped them with her hair. 45 You gave Me no kiss, but she hasn't stopped kissing My feet since I came in. 46 You didn't anoint My head with oil, but she has anointed My feet with fragrant oil. 47 Therefore I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven; that's why she loved much. But the one who is forgiven little, loves little." 48 Then He said to her, "Your sins are forgiven." " Luke 7:36-48 (Holman Christian Standard Bible)
As he finished that final line, Maurice smiled and gave an enthusiastic, "Yeah! I know that's right!". I commented that I also identify with the woman of poor reputation and debtor who owed a greater amount than many other better people, and I am thankful to be welcomed into church so God can keep changing me. Maurice was noncommittal regarding visiting our church building, but he was interested in hearing about the internet campus. He said that sounded more appealing to him.
 
After he walked away promising to take extra good care of our table (which he did), I tried to hop online via my phone to put in a prayer request for Maurice but could not access the Online Campus prayer page. So I shot a text message relating the details and asking Walker, who is shepherding the online church, if she could post the request for the online congregation to be praying for Maurice. Imagine my surprise when Walker messaged back that she and another friend were actually headed to the same coffee shop at that very moment!
 
Both pairs of ladies arrived at the same time. I got up from the table and went over to greet them as Maurice was seating Walker and her companion. I laughed as I told him that I had sent a prayer request for him to Walker not knowing that she was headed to the restaurant. I also told him that God must really have something in store for him to be putting so many people in place to let him know that there was somewhere for him to be joining in Worship. He looked pretty pleased with that take on the situation, and I hope that he will soon find whatever place God is preparing for him.

Tidbits: Results

• In acknowledging God's power to heal in response to prayer, there must also be acknowledgement that He will decide when and if... and He will be right, or faith is fickle. With Mr. T's next EEG to test for seizures less than a week away, Green Girl says it well. It is not solely the results of prayer that express the power of prayer or of God.
• My chest CT was clear. My blood work was not. That could mean that thyroid levels are loopy because of decreasing estrogen levels. (Current hormone levels are kind of like highly-caffeinated kindergartners on a trampoline sans adult supervision. Whee!) My lymph nodes remain clear of any sign of cancer related to that thought to be previously cured, or the specter of those that go hand-in-hand with immune deficiency.
• An arthritis flare is in full swing. Fortunately, outside is a solid sheet of ice that has resulted in widespread cancellations across North Texas. Tomorrow's forecast high of 29 degrees (Fahrenheit... ) and tonight's low of 6 degrees (still Fahrenheit...) are unlikely to allow melting. That means I can wait out the flare without missing anything since almost everything in this portion of the Lone Star State cancels at the mere hint of wintry weather. 
• The Super Bowl is second only to the weather in today's local news programming. Fortunately, both the teams arriving in anticipation of playing in this week's big game are from places more accustomed to cold. Not that I'll be paying much attention to the game (despite more than a few friends who are die-hard fans of the teams playing) because, unlike most Texans, football.makes.me.bored.

Attending

It was going okay until she said, "This morning, Ralph said..." Because she won't be able to say that ever again. Tammy was referring to her husband. I stood on the screened porch staring at nothing while Tammy, those family members who live in town, Tammy and Ralph's pastor, several ladies (who are more sisters than friends to the newly bereaved), and two little children playing on the floor waited for the Medical Examiner to conduct the necessary business inside the house.  The memorial service will wait for January 18th at 2:00 p.m. It will no doubt be well attended because there is much to celebrate when considering the life of Ralph Adler.
Gentle Readers may recall that the Spring of 2008 was spent in preparation for a prayer team to travel to Poland, and that the team faced an unexpected challenge. Missionary to Poland Shelley (ShelleyinPoland) and short-term team member Lisa's father became gravely ill that March. There were huge prayer chains formed via e-mail across the globe to pray for Ralph, and for his family. Months later, when he returned home, I took a scrapbook documenting the months of his illness and recovery with the prayers of individuals pasted into a book along with the faithful updates sent out by Tammy. That book was a testimony to the power of prayer, but it was a small thing compared to the impact of the man who mentored countless men including my mister. Steve Lucas put it well today saying, "The world has become poorer, and Heaven richer."

Having been part of a team praying for Ralph, a team including two of his daughters praying for Poland, and a smaller team praying for Ralph's daughter Lisa to be blessed with a child, I contemplate an image of Ralph holding the hand of that daughter shortly before the birth of his granddaughter. It is an image that speaks of faith and the power of prayer, and of the legacy of a man who loved God and others.

May, 2010

Joy

Last Christmas was a little weird. This Christmas has been hard to even recognize. A pep talk from Walker kick started the conversations with the fam identifying just what needed to be a priority as the Advent Calendar dipped from double digits into single with alarming speed. Still, it's been a challenge to find the joy in the season. And then, it was here. Our church opted for two Christmas Eve services. The first Christmas Eve Service ran December 23rd earning it the title "Christmas Eve Eve".
Turns out that was just the thing. Traditionally, the 23rd is the day and evening for running crazy to finish up grocery and gift shopping. There are eight One Last Trip drives to the store with each one involving impulse purchases in hopes of avoiding the subsequent trip. There was still some of that with a couple of small gifts still on the list, milk and coffee both needed, and the mister and I trying to finish up holiday party attire for the Company Christmas Party (that has conveniently rescheduled to be a Company Holiday Party on New Year's Day). Little Bit's shoes were also trashed and her foot is growing. Anywho. The point here is not all the running around during the daylight hours. After dark, we left the main streets and the crazed drivers to join those arriving at the church building.
There, we greeted our loved ones exchanging hugs, chatter, and Christmas wishes until the lights began to lower with the filling of the sanctuary. The music swelled. It filled the room transforming from notes into Worship. The congregation became Worshippers. After a month spent examining the names of Jesus,  the final name "Yeshua" was woven into the narrative of the Christmas Story as Shakespeare's Juliet was quoted asking what was in a name. The answer was that the name we celebrated last night was not any ordinary name, but that brought on Angel's mighty lips from Heaven itself. A name spoken first to Mary and then to Joseph, and last night proclaimed again and again.
I lay awake until just past midnight thinking of God's Son on a night usually given over to the worldly and cultural trappings of Christmas. And even though all is not right in the world, there is peace in it because the day when we celebrate the birth of the Mighty King is upon us. And in the dark and stillness, there was a sweet, quiet joy that had been missing. If you wish to join in the celebration with Christ Fellowship, a live online service will run tonight at 7:00 Central.

Gifted

Middle Child's Christmas observance was all about the gifts. She wants to make lists of potential gifts and recipients, shop-til-she-drops (which is way past when her middle-aged mother drops), wrap lots of gifts in festive paper, and make piles of pretty packages. This year, when I cry, "Uncle!" opting for gift cards, has seen multiple trips out exhaustively searching for just the right items to suit Middle Child's gift-giving penchants. Not that she's been monetarily extravagant, but she is particular. She's one of those gifty sorts (I read Gary Chapman's Love Languages, and that chapter was written about this girl child.) who shows love through gifts. Which also means she receives love through gifts.
Have I mentioned that I wimped out and went with the universally easy and likable gift cards? Even Middle Child will find a gift card or two tucked amongst her goodies, but they were oh-so-carefully chosen to reflect her personal preferences. Because an inappropriate or poorly chosen gift is worse than no gift at all for her. (No pressure, though. Really.) Of course, the item she most wants to find under the tree is a plane ticket to Honduras.
Speaking of gifts and Honduras, today our family received a surprise gift. We received a Christmas Gift that speaks directly to our hearts. A gift was given to the Reach Out Honduras Education Fund in our name. This was given by the same friends who have heard me lament, whine, fuss, and try to work out an answer to how on earth a group of children who live at subsistence levels can possibly gain an education. About the kids who dream of going to school that is out of reach financially. About the tias (aunts) who prefer that funds from sponsors go to provide education before other basic needs. About the individual stories of this one who would be a doctor, and that one who wants to learn about Social Studies... It is the gift of hope for these children who we love that we have received for Christmas.

Picture Post: Prayer Sowers

Reach Out Honduras Thanksgiving Team 2010

Aidan marked the spots where the team prayed with stones that brought to mind Joshua 4 where God stopped his people from moving forward instead requiring them to focus on Him rather than on the tasks they were undertaking. Victoria's Land is a field where we prayed for opportunity in Puerto Lempira whether that means a garden that provides fresh fruit and vegetables or perhaps the addition of a home for street boys...

Our team prayed at the hospital during the prayer walk on our first day. This photo serves as a representation of those whose situations need not appear in an image to be remembered.

Laura used the 2 1/2 minute iShare video on an iPad to show the gospel in Spanish to the kids at Mama Tara's while I prayed. The sweet girl next to me is Claudia. There will no doubt be more words devoted to this sweet new friend in days to come. She and the boy in orange are both new believers in Jesus!

Spread

I'm thinking of the twenty-five kids at Familia Alastero this morning who Reach Out Honduras is ministering to through child sponsorships. At the last Board meeting, a vote was passed to administrate sponsorships for supplemental food, clothing, and educational expenses. In the scant weeks since that vote was passed, the first sponsorship was donated. Two more have been spoken of, and a fourth came over the week of Thanksgiving. In week since the short-term team returned home, two more of the children have received sponsorships. For the scorekeepers, that's four down, two anticipated, and nineteen to go.
There is consistent prayer for the provision of this sweet extended family. We visited the home where 18 of the children live with two tias (aunts), and the space was roughly equivalent to my family's living room. There are two sets of triple-decker wide bunk beds built last Spring by a short-term team from New York over Spring Break that sleep all 18 kids who range from preschool to their late teens. The family's relatively few possessions are neatly organized, and their home is clearly well kept. The kids sang hymns and songs in Spanish, and then treated us to recitations of Scripture. A picture post or two later will follow to better illustrate. The visit, and meeting the individual kids and tias, has added depth and even greater desire to the prayers for the provision of this children's home.
This morning, praying again as I pulled up the spreadsheets related to the sponsorships, I was surprised to see a familiar name in the sponsor field next to one of this week's recipients. The name was only familiar because I have seen her comment on another friend's Facebook posts. This is the power of social media for ministry. It is the power of the story teller. The common friend has been faithful to "like" Reach Out Honduras-related posts and links on the social networking site, and has also "liked" or commented on personal posts or photos related to the ministry to help spread the word. God provides, but seeing how His people are working together through new technology to be part of the solution to the age old question of how to help the poor, and I cannot help but imagine the potential for word to spread until nineteen more people hear of the Alastero kids.

*Since I seem to be slow in posting the details of the Thanksgiving Team's week, I offer up Phil Morgan's perspective of his experience as one of the eight who spent Thanksgiving week planting seeds in Honduras.

Passenger

There's an old song with a line that says, "I am a passenger, and I ride and I ride." At the moment, there's a familiarity to the rider in the song who is observing the world as it speeds along outside the windows. Not that I realized that I was observing anything specific. Last Spring, Walker and I completed a 10K to benefit the homeless shelter in our city. It was a first experience with any such event, and the planner's mind was fascinated by how it differed and was similar to the sorts of events that have fallen within a planning experience that previously ranged from meetings to parties to conferences. That's organizer's eye is usually watching, even if it is subconscious. That eye took in the details around the big kids' Cross Country season and the annual elementary school fun run fundraiser this year, too.

It was the idea behind the 5K Evan and Katie ran to benefit the school in Uganda a couple of weeks ago that brought the images that had been collecting into increasingly sharper focus. The similarities between Reach Out Honduras and the group to benefit from the event were enough to gain my full attention. The day the kids ran, I was fully present cheering them on, but each aspect of the race was being cataloged in my mind (and with the more objective camera) for later consideration. Research and online requests followed as the idea of such an event to benefit Reach Out Honduras ministry and increase familiarity with the name and needs of tiny Puerto Lempira. Last week, a meeting with one of the organizers of the established event that Walker and I participated in earlier this year yielded the incredible opportunity to observe in meetings as the team prepares for their 2011 event. Tomorrow, there will be a meeting with the organizer of the smaller Fun Run for the Ugandan school. There will be a more balanced perspective between the two similar yet disparate groups and events as well as growing knowledge of contacts, important details, and the dreaded what-not-to-do that usually is only revealed through those twins Trial and Error.

The ROH Board has not yet voted on the idea of a fun run. The full proposal is coming together, and one member is seeking leads within our community for potential corporate sponsors to help determine feasibility. It's challenging to know that for less than $100 a family in Puerto Lempira could receive a chicken coop with two chickens and their own garden to provide ongoing sources of nutrition. The funds that could pay for those items pale in comparison to the overall costs of race-related items. That was a difficult thought, but after praying about it, I believe sponsors who would want their business logo on a t-shirt or banner to help put on a running event in our local community are looking at a marketing expense for their company. That may represent a different group than those who would choose to give directly to the humanitarian programs that Reach Out Honduras hopes to administer as a testimony to Christ's love.

It's not yet certain if I'm just riding along checking out the scenery in passing. Or if I'm headed for a transfer that could require recognizing the route along which others have already traveled. Despite feeling insufficient to the task at hand, I know that God's infinite power and grace are more than enough to take those on board far beyond the limitations of the horizon in view. The trepidation is not a lack of faith, or worry over the unknown. It is simply the waiting that comes as one moves toward a destination wondering "Are we there yet?"

Giddy

For months Reach Out Honduras has been awaiting the I.R.S. approval of 501c3 status that would give donors a tax deduction for their contributions. The designation has sometimes felt like asking for a worldly stamp of approval for this organization that serves God, but it is also a set standard that indicates a certain legitimacy. It's been challenging to be patient with the dreams and ideas waiting for word of the approval. Yesterday, the ROH Board of Directors was scheduled to meet, but the 501c3 application that was still pending was casting a long shadow over the meeting agenda.
At Laura's request, I placed a call to the representative yesterday. The ringing was met with his voicemail and I left a message hoping against hope that he would call back. Or that the letter with our approval would appear in the Waits's post office box. That somehow the news would come in answer to so many prayers for this status to be granted.
At around 1:00, my cell phone rang downstairs. I tore down the stairs as the idea that it could be the representative with an answer. Heart-hammering, but too late, I saw the area code that was either the I.R.S. or a sales call that was going to get answered. The phone dumped the call to voicemail while fumbling fingers tried to unlock the touch screen. I had to wait while the caller left a message before calling back, but did so without listening to the message.
The representative answered the call back, and he looked up Reach Out Honduras's information. Stomach in knots, heart hammering, and forgetting to breathe, I heard him say, "Oh, that was approved on on October 1st... Haven't you received our letter yet?" EEEEEEEE! (Fortunately, the shrieking was kept internal.) I thanked him, and was given the address where the letter was sent and a phone number to again change the mailing address listed. He assured me that the letter was a formality, and our group was welcome to proceed with any plans. Even as we have been praying for the approval over the past weeks, God had already provided exactly what was needed. We just did not know it yet.
Hanging up the phone, I, um, ran, laughing out loud at desperately praying for what was already given, through the house as animals scattered seeking cover from which to peer out at my apparent loss of sanity. The sheer relief and celebration of the moment was utterly overwhelming. After the initial reaction, I found the phone numbers for our friends in Honduras, and phoned one number only to fail in reaching a person. The second call yielded Alex who heard the news, and passed it along to Laura with the phone. They totally got the "EEEEEEEE!" from which I'd felt the need to protect the I.R.S. representative's ear.
There are so many possibilities open to Reach Out Honduras. Even with the U.S. economy still shuddering from the contractions of the last couple of years, there are people choosing to give to fund the ministry in Puerto Lempira. With the 501c3 designation, those givers will receive a small worldly return in the form of a tax break. Last night's meeting brought new opportunities that will no doubt be detailed here in the future in hopes that Gentle Reader will pray for and potentially partner with us in some way to benefit the children of Puerto Lempira who are still vulnerable in so many ways, but who have a team of people who are praying for them and now have increased potential to help fill the bellies and minds of those children who have already heard that Jesus wants to fill their hearts.

Wash

In 2008, I flummoxed my mister with a crying jag over not having lice. Not because I wanted lice per se, but because ShelleyinPoland had ended up with a case while serving children suffering from the critters. Not having lice on that day meant that I had not been amongst the team loving on those children. It was a very real grief.

Salon Services

An answer to my prayer to be able to minister (as ShelleyinPoland and the team she served with had) came almost two years later. The opportunity to share in shampooing thirty-odd heads of hair to relieve the children at House of Hope of their itchy scalps was presented last March. It was delightful to finally get the chance to act on what can best be described as a case of Holy Discontent. The experience brought relief to the kids while highlighting the issue of a severe water shortage affecting those in Puerto Lempira for Katie and I (who are both very accustomed to turning on the tap without having to consider from whence that needful resource springs). The whole experience was overwhelming, but one that is a treasured memory of that week in Honduras.

When the Reach Out Honduras Thanksgiving Team was given the opportunity to collect 20 RID lice treatments and repeat our "Beauty Salon", there was no hesitation in agreement. It was delightful to contemplate the repeat opportunity to be part of again meeting the kids' need for relief from that too common pest. Out of the blue this week, Mama Tara asked Laura about lice treatments for the children who shelter with her. Last night, Laura e-mailed asking if it would be possible to purchase an additional 13 treatments. Trip Leader Amy immediately responded that her mother was in possession of $100 given that day toward the purchase of the $9-$10 lice treatments. It was with a happy heart that I followed up Amy's response with the news that I had received another $25 yesterday for the treatments as well. While not sure if we have the full compliment of the original 20 treatments pledged yet, I know of at least ten plus two promised by former Operation Prayer Surge (Poland, 2008) teammates ShelleyinPoland and Lisa.

I'm consistently amazed at the blessings that come in sometimes odd packages. Yet, I find an overflow of thanksgiving that this perhaps yucky ministration is the ministry which God offers again because the act of meeting this need for those we serve ministers to my own heart. Again, I find tears coming in response to children who have lice. It is with absolute gratitude that I contemplate the incredible gift of being one of those who will be serving in a way I so keenly missed years ago. Here's to taking our shampoo and comb out salon even further and reaching out to ever more people with a ministry that might not be for everyone, but means the world to me.

Tidbits

• Birthday Party is planned, the guests have all replied with their acceptances, and the girls' books are on their way from an online retailer. Headed over to order the ice cream cake (White cake and vanilla ice cream because her friend does not like chocolate. Love that she's more interested in her guests than herself.) and see if movie tickets can be purchased a week in advance.
• Word from Laura is that all was well with them this morning. She was wishing for friends to assist in the post-storm clean up efforts, and I was wishing we were there to help. I keep repeating, "Soon." Not soon enough, though.
• One of Erin's party guests is actually the daughter of a Honduran Daddy and a half-Honduran Mommy.
• We picked up runners from the Middle School Church Retreat, but ended up taking the girls out for breakfast when lightning caused their meet to be cancelled. We dropped the girls back off in time for them to join in worship and what promised to be a fierce dodge ball tournament.
• The Boy's meet was not cancelled since he was running in another suburb at a later time where there was no lightning. He ran his best time in a race so far this year: 22:13 for 3.1 miles. Run, Bronco, Run!
• We can carry 50 pounds of "stuff" per person to Puerto Lempira in November. We have 10 pounds of baby formula, 35 pounds of school supplies and backpacks, and seven and half pounds of bed sheets. These sorts of numbers are causing the girls to question what we will wear during our stay. Toga anyone?

Right

Years ago, someone made a comment about something seemingly innocuous, but it was deeply hurtful. This comment was made in the church that the mister and I were newly attending. It was a place where we were seeking God; yet, this individual and the words spoken sent me running from that place. Soon after, I was driving by a country church with one of those billboards out front that tend to have little pithy sayings. This one asked what was coming between me and God. The sign and my hurt feelings inspired a little conversation with God as I drove.
Me: Lord, I want to know you. I'm trying. That person was awful to say something like that to me.
God: [silence]
Me: That person hurt my feelings. That person didn't care about my circumstances, and You are not limiting me according to what she said.
God: [probably pointed silence]
Me: You are not limiting me. Really, that person isn't limiting me. My reponse is limiting my access to You because I am more concerned with that person being wrong than I am with being right with You. Uh-oh.
God: [in infinite patience is still silent]
Me: Well. I'll just keep right on coming to that church, and I will just keep right on seeking after You! In fact, I'm going to be so nice to that person that they won't know what hit 'em.

I thought of this exchange that happened many years ago this morning. The exchange that could have driven me from church, and become something I held up as a shield of bitterness between myself and God is now one I treasure. The person who I would have let push me away, is someone who I hold intensely dear. (We have never discussed that offhand conversation, and the speaker of those fateful words probably does not remember them. I remember it, not out of hurt, but because it reminds me that my perspective is not the only one.) It is also an illustration of an idea that fits in with Jesus' teaching in the Sermon on the Mount. Whatever might come between the vertical relationship with God and His follower, needs to be flattened into a horizontal position that nothing would impede that most important relationship. If I am right with my Lord, then I believe all else will follow.

Antibodies

I arrived at the appointment for my flu shot. In discussing anti-malarial drugs and immunizations for Honduras, It was interesting to hear that my IVIG makes the immunizations largely redundant. Medications intended to help the body create antibodies to fight off infection are not necessary because the IVIG is full of antibodies. My body cannot do anything with the immunizations, so we will revisit whether or not to give boosters or additional immunizations in the future. The IVIG is potentially a better source of protection because it contains a global pool of antibodies (the things the body produces in response to the introduction of a vaccine that are specialized to fight off specific diseases) already.
There have been consistent prayers for my health as travel has been undertaken in the last two years. Medical science is often the means by which God chooses to answer those prayers. Over Spring Break in Honduras there were many with tummy issues of one sort or another, but I did not become ill with even this most common source of gringo discomfort much less some dread disease. Chalking that up to answered prayer, I was still uncertain as to why I would remain untroubled while my teammates experienced the yuckiness. Ah. Antibodies.

Hermine

Ah, hurricane season. Tropical storms and hurricanes blow in off the gulf and spend themselves dumping water and wind along the journey inland to nothingness. Hermine is the big story around here today. She showed up yesterday to leave the mister and I slightly damp after our two mile lap around the neighborhood. This caused a slight error in judgment that resulted in Walker and I being a couple of miles away when light rain became something more. There was a certain amount of laughter, clinging to the belief that the situation would one day be a funny story, and eventually the need to take off our squelching, squishy shoes and socks to cover the final quarter mile barefoot. Not that Hermine was satisfied at that point.
The mister and I spent the day yawning as the rain continued. There was enough of a lull for the high school boys to get a few blocks away from the traffic snarl that goes with carpools, teen drivers, and staff fleeing the workday before I picked them up. That break was quickly replaced by pounding rain just as the elementary dismissed. Little Bit has a fear terror of storms, so the goal was to get to her as quickly as possible. Sitting with the left turn signal blinking monotonously, we stared at the line of cars already lined up to make a right turn that stretched on past the end of my vision. Finally, another mommy took pity on us and allowed us into the line slowly snaking up the drive toward the back of the school where upper grades can be retrieved. Erin hopped into the car, and we headed home to pull into the drive just as the rain abated again. And the tornado sirens went off.
We were not swept away in a funnel cloud. The only first-person reports of the wall of clouds that triggered the alarms came from friends on Facebook who were further north than our home. Middle Child did get stuck at school because the district held those students still in classes until after the tornado warning was officially lifted fifteen minutes after the usual end of the school day. The students and the staff were equally thrilled. No doubt the parents already sitting in the carpool lines were even more tickled to hear that they could come inside the school to wait until the schools were able to release students. Eesh. Thankfully, we had no real disaster, but simply an enhanced drill. Now, we just have to try not to float away.

Idol

"Out of the heavens He let you hear His voice to discipline you; and on earth He let you see his great fire, and you heard His words from the midst of the fire." (Deuteronomy 4:36, NASB) This verse is smack in the midst of Moses proclaiming idols bad and reminding the Israelites that God's laws are for their benefit. As a Mom, the whole passage is one which brings to mind thoughts of how easily a parent can get caught up in one's child(ren), and that someone can become an idol if that person takes precedence over God in daily life. This is increasingly evident as our household ramps up for Back-to-School.

This morning's quiet time occupied all of ten minutes, but it will have to see the heart, mind, and soul through Cross Country practice pick-up, middle school schedule pick-up, athletic locker assignments, year book pictures, Cross Country team pictures, finding Middle Child a new swimsuit after she suddenly grew just in time for a water park outing, and whatever else comes up today for the offspring. Had that few minutes not come early today, this would likely be a day without an infusion of scripture. The Bible is where the voice of God is found if only there is enough desire to seek Him and the discipline to do so when there are many other distractions. (Many of those distractions are beneficial, but...) Really, no desire exists to get to that fire part that tends to singe one when the focus becomes centered on anything other than God. (Whether kids, self, activities, work...) In fact, I'm pretty content to read the words and commands given by God to the Israelites without getting them firsthand from the Creator who inspires no small amount of awe.

There was a time when I wondered with a lack of humility how the Israelites could get so much wrong so much of the time, but these days it is crystal clear how easy it is to become caught in the snares of activity and commitment that leave little energy for prayer and contemplation. For today, I'm just uttering a small prayer of thanksgiving for a start to this day that honors what I say I believe over the suburban American Dream the mister and I have been busy building for so many years.

Guidance

The Boy and I sat in the counselor's office at the high school in June making sure he had a schedule for the 2010-11 school year. She suggested that we call in August so he could walk through the building and find his way around before the first day. This morning Evan phoned to discover that he has a new counselor. The new guidance counselor could not find him in the computer system. Uh-oh. The grades from summer school reflected that Evan had received A's for both sessions, and he has been diligently running mile after mile with the Cross Country Team. Despite these activities that would seem to indicate his status as a student of Pleasant Suburban Independent School District, a glitch had caused him to be un-enrolled. Eh? Oh.but.no.
A flash of, "Say what?! Really?!" burst out, but was quickly contained. Assuring the counselor that we would be right over with a set of new registration documents including shot records and proof of residency, the phone was replaced in the base while Mama steamed. Some choice words were spoken, and the Boy and I hopped in the car to run over to the school right away. After registering our son for high school, I walked with him back to the front office. We waited until the counselor came to retrieve us so that a schedule could be created. The last counselor signed Evan up for the least challenging possible schedule and seemed less than enthusiastic when he insisted on taking Latin. It was not an experience that built our kid up, and it was not one that really needed repetition.

Except that sometimes a re-do is exactly the thing. The new counselor who we met with today? Was all over the Boy. He took one look at test scores, previous grades, and began to ask questions. In the end, Evan signed up for classes that likely will challenge him, and he has received a thorough pep talk and words of encouragement from a guidance counselor who clearly has a passion for seeing kids work to reach their potential. He even left with the assurance that his final schedule had been created complete with first period Athletics, the surprise of an AP History class, and the much-desired Latin class.

Provision

Still fighting the voices from my childhood accusing the church of money-grubbing, the mister and I opted not to have Middle Child send out support letters for her trip to Mexico in July. Instead, we made payments to the church for the trip expenses over the months leading up to the team's departure. One family specifically asked about the trip, so Middle Child sent them a support letter. They responded with a gift toward her expenses. Some questions arose when she sent out her prayer request message via e-mail from those who would have chosen to offer financial gifts in addition to their willing prayers that sent our girl out again just a few short months after our return from her first mission adventure. Those questions had me going to God with a few of my own in regard to just exactly why I felt so uncomfortable asking for support when thrilled to be the recipient of just such requests.

The response to those messages was the sending out of an e-mail to a larger group of previous supporters detailing our excitement about returning to Honduras over Thanksgiving. There was a clear memory of keen disappointment over having been denied past opportunities to be part of others' missionary efforts that was present while consideration was given to whom we might send out support letters. Um... that thing about having little faith? Yeah. Uh-oh. Still, I didn't want to bombard anyone. Plus, it had become clear that our daughters were not really understanding the value of the gifts of support. The gifts for which we were asking so that others might choose to join us in our next trip to Puerto Lempira needed to be recognized as sacrifices by those on the receiving end. The upcoming trip called for a varied approach to raising support appropriate to each of us.

Erin and Katie are working like mad to earn support. The varied pet-sitting and baby-sitting jobs have continued to come along. We have begun our ongoing bake sale featuring our chocolate and banana breads in several sizes. Yesterday, the girls spent two hours scrubbing away soot from a friend's hearth and fire screen as well as scrubbing away evidence of a leaky rook from tile grout on a covered patio. (They really, really liked these cool grown-up chores. Who knew?!) The girls are getting an excellent education in the actual value of those financial gifts that arrive in the mail box in response to the support letters that required me to put aside my personal concerns. After all, words like, "me," and "my," have little enough to do with this endeavor. This is an opportunity to simply trust that God provides what is just exactly right for each of us.

Opportunity

Raised in a household that held the often-expressed opinion that organized religion was all about snatching away one's hard-earned cash, I admit to being a bit squeamish about raising support for mission trips. While there is not the slightest hesitation to assume that others want to pray for us, it is more difficult to ask for money; yet, I was put out to discover that people do send out letters to ask others to contribute to the expenses associated with missional travel. Not put out by the requests, but because the people who we had known over the years that went on mission trips had often not sent us such requests.
The first letter I recall was from a former mentor sharing her excitement about heading to Africa. In fact, her letter was the inspiration for my own letter months later, but she was far from the first person we knew who was making a short-term or extended mission trip. The feeling of having missed out on the opportunities to be part of sending others out to places where we were not likely to go was akin to an emptiness in the pit of one's stomach. The realization that our known lack of ready cash had possibly been reason for others to withhold the opportunity to be part of their sending teams left a decidedly unpleasant hollowness. It also led to an added excitement in 2008 as support letters for Operation Prayer Surge in Poland were written and sent out. God provided every penny of the expenses related to that trip, and many people prayed from home as the in-country team moved throughout several cities and landmarks praying for Poles and those ministering to them.