Give it a Gander
Wednesday
I'm one of many blogger featured at Two Talent Living this week. Go here to take a gander at several women blogger's picks of their best blog of 2005.
Lions and Narnia and Little Women Oh My
Saturday
I saw two movies today, both familiar.
One: Narnia. In English, no doubt. We've read the series to our children and have them on tape, so I am very familiar with the storyline. Perhaps that's why I was surprised at what impacted me.
First, it was Aslan's death. Something clicked inside my head, a little voice that whispered, "Jesus' death was real." As in He died. He really, really died. No longer breathing. No heartbeat. No life. He died. It harkens me back to those I love who have died, how cold my grandmother's hand was when I touched it, how frozen my grandfather's face was (he died almost a year ago), how desperately sad I was at ten when my father died and I never got to say goodbye.
Jesus died.
And He rose.
Second, I cried most when Peter said, "For Narnia, for Aslan" before he charged forward in war. My heart leapt, caught in my teeth. Because I realized all this suffering we've done in France is for a reason. It's for the joy of heaven and for the sake of Jesus. Seeing that pictured on a screen in Cannes renewed my heart for the fight.
Tonight we watched Little Women, actually we ended up being Sophie and me. She's thirteen today and I'm sensing the crossing over with us, from mother-daughter to mother-friend. We cried when Beth died, cried when Jo found love at last under the canopy of a rain-drenched umbrella. But the words that struck me most was when Jo's future husband said something to the effect of, "I thought you had more in you. This story has so very little of you in it." He went on to encourage her to write from her heart, to pour her life onto the page. Tough love, but good words.
Those are the words the Lord has cajoled me with this year, to tell stories with myself impaled on the page. It's excruciating. Cathartic. Frightening. But I'd rather write from the depth of me than write words others may want to read but aren't reflective of my heart.
So here I am. Living in France with knowledge afresh of Jesus' very real sacrifice for me, an Edmund-prone girl. Running forward to the fight for the sake of Him and His country. And penning my heart so, hopefully, others will see Aslan there.
One: Narnia. In English, no doubt. We've read the series to our children and have them on tape, so I am very familiar with the storyline. Perhaps that's why I was surprised at what impacted me.
First, it was Aslan's death. Something clicked inside my head, a little voice that whispered, "Jesus' death was real." As in He died. He really, really died. No longer breathing. No heartbeat. No life. He died. It harkens me back to those I love who have died, how cold my grandmother's hand was when I touched it, how frozen my grandfather's face was (he died almost a year ago), how desperately sad I was at ten when my father died and I never got to say goodbye.
Jesus died.
And He rose.
Second, I cried most when Peter said, "For Narnia, for Aslan" before he charged forward in war. My heart leapt, caught in my teeth. Because I realized all this suffering we've done in France is for a reason. It's for the joy of heaven and for the sake of Jesus. Seeing that pictured on a screen in Cannes renewed my heart for the fight.
Tonight we watched Little Women, actually we ended up being Sophie and me. She's thirteen today and I'm sensing the crossing over with us, from mother-daughter to mother-friend. We cried when Beth died, cried when Jo found love at last under the canopy of a rain-drenched umbrella. But the words that struck me most was when Jo's future husband said something to the effect of, "I thought you had more in you. This story has so very little of you in it." He went on to encourage her to write from her heart, to pour her life onto the page. Tough love, but good words.
Those are the words the Lord has cajoled me with this year, to tell stories with myself impaled on the page. It's excruciating. Cathartic. Frightening. But I'd rather write from the depth of me than write words others may want to read but aren't reflective of my heart.
So here I am. Living in France with knowledge afresh of Jesus' very real sacrifice for me, an Edmund-prone girl. Running forward to the fight for the sake of Him and His country. And penning my heart so, hopefully, others will see Aslan there.
Did you know this about France?
Thursday
There are many interesting things about living in France. I could expound about line-cutting, always having to say a greeting when I enter a store (which is really quite nice once you get used to it), or the glory of the CHOCOLATE AISLE at the grocery store this time of year. But, I'll hold off on the mundane and share some quirky things.
First, did you know there is a department for the French language, kind of like the French language police? Here's the name of the department (take a deep breath, it's long):
La terminologie des moyens de communication.
Say that ten (dix) times fast. I dare you!
Anyway, with all these new words floating around (like email, MP3 players, etc), this department has had their hands full coming up with French sounding names for English computerish words. So, drumroll please.
Pa rum pa pum pum.
The word for podcast (some have called it le podcasting):
baladodiffusion. From two syllables to seven. Hmmm.
And what happens if, through saying this very very long word, you get a tooth ache? Well, say no more, and DRIVE no more. There is a tooth extraction service that comes to you in a large U-Haul looking truck with the word TOOTH REMOVALS on the side. I've pasted the advertisement below. First, why would they put a Christmas bow on this ad? So that I can give Patrick a gift certificate this Christmas that reads, "Dear Patrick, I know you don't need all those teeth, so to celebrate Noel, I'm having the Tooth Removal Folks drive over here. Merry Christmas!"
Since I've experienced French dentistry first hand, maybe a mobile unit would be better!
Alas, though, if you read the ad, you realize, that even though it is shaped like a tooth, the removal service is actually a moving service.
I figured it out when I puzzled over these words:
I also learned these important stats:
First, did you know there is a department for the French language, kind of like the French language police? Here's the name of the department (take a deep breath, it's long):
La terminologie des moyens de communication.
Say that ten (dix) times fast. I dare you!
Anyway, with all these new words floating around (like email, MP3 players, etc), this department has had their hands full coming up with French sounding names for English computerish words. So, drumroll please.
Pa rum pa pum pum.
The word for podcast (some have called it le podcasting):
baladodiffusion. From two syllables to seven. Hmmm.
And what happens if, through saying this very very long word, you get a tooth ache? Well, say no more, and DRIVE no more. There is a tooth extraction service that comes to you in a large U-Haul looking truck with the word TOOTH REMOVALS on the side. I've pasted the advertisement below. First, why would they put a Christmas bow on this ad? So that I can give Patrick a gift certificate this Christmas that reads, "Dear Patrick, I know you don't need all those teeth, so to celebrate Noel, I'm having the Tooth Removal Folks drive over here. Merry Christmas!"
Since I've experienced French dentistry first hand, maybe a mobile unit would be better!
Alas, though, if you read the ad, you realize, that even though it is shaped like a tooth, the removal service is actually a moving service.
I figured it out when I puzzled over these words:
- "Full removals, part loads, and single items" So, they'll extract ALL my teeth? Or part? Is one tooth considered a single item?
- "containerized security storage depots" What? Why would I want to store my extracted tooth, and why all the security?
- "worldwide packing, transport and delivery" So, they pack the tooth, pull it, transport it and deliver it? Where? Is there some sort of tooth black market somewhere in the world I don't know about?
- "Local removals, regular service to Paris." Maybe folks in Paris need my teeth?
I also learned these important stats:
- The highest consumption of cocaine and cannabis in France is here on the French Riviera!
- The Bic pen was invented in France.
So, there you have it. Long words. Odd advertising. Drugs. And pens. That's all I have for today!
Sledding in a Winter Wonderland
Monday
We went to Grioliere le neige last Saturday, searching for some neige (snow). Thankfully, we found some. The kids had a great time sledding (and we did too). 
Julia with her pink Barbie coat on. She was a daredevil on the sled slopes!
Sophie a litte apprehensive about the ice-run.
Aidan happy to be creating snowballs.
The kids--our three snowangels.
Julia with her pink Barbie coat on. She was a daredevil on the sled slopes!
Sophie a litte apprehensive about the ice-run.
Aidan happy to be creating snowballs.
The kids--our three snowangels.Mary, I am not
Friday
Please forgive my yoda-speak. I've been thinking about that story where two women interact with Jesus--one named Mary, one named Martha. Mary sits at Jesus' feet, adoring Him, listening to Him, being with Him while Martha bothers herself with tasks and weariness.
Mary, I am not.
And, therefore, merry, I am not.
Martha, I have become.
Planting a church is hard. Being in a foreign country amplifies its difficulties. Loving my children, extending hospitality, going to meetings, organizing worship, paying bills, writing nearly full-time, cleaning--it's all too much. From task to task to task I flit. I'm Martha on steroids.
If I shut my eyes, I can see Mary, adoration adorning her face. When I look in the mirror I don't see adoration, I see apathy and fatigue.
Maybe it's just because the end of the year has caught up with me. It's been a roller-coaster year, with, oddly, mostly uphill climbs and few exhilarating twists and loop-de-loops. Maybe my body has caught up with my tired heart. Maybe I just need some encouragement.
Ever feel that way?
The truth is, I want to be both merry and Mary. I see how I want my life to be--as a girl dedicated to Jesus, sitting at His scarred feet, hearing His song over my heart. Instead of flitting, I'd rather be hearing His tasks from His mouth, His encouragement.
What is it in me that keeps going and going and going without this holy fuel?
I can say this. Martha has got to go. She's wearing me out. She's wearing my heart out.
Lord, I want to be Mary. I want to be merry. Sitting at Your feet is the best place. Take me there today. I need Your refreshment, Your words, Your encouragement. I need to hear You, need to know You're not terribly disappointed in me for my frailty and my addiction to frenetic activity. Slow me down. Hold me close. Help me to see it's all about being near You and not about doing a bunch of things that look like dedication. Make me Mary and merry.
Amen.
Mary, I am not.
And, therefore, merry, I am not.
Martha, I have become.
Planting a church is hard. Being in a foreign country amplifies its difficulties. Loving my children, extending hospitality, going to meetings, organizing worship, paying bills, writing nearly full-time, cleaning--it's all too much. From task to task to task I flit. I'm Martha on steroids.
If I shut my eyes, I can see Mary, adoration adorning her face. When I look in the mirror I don't see adoration, I see apathy and fatigue.
Maybe it's just because the end of the year has caught up with me. It's been a roller-coaster year, with, oddly, mostly uphill climbs and few exhilarating twists and loop-de-loops. Maybe my body has caught up with my tired heart. Maybe I just need some encouragement.
Ever feel that way?
The truth is, I want to be both merry and Mary. I see how I want my life to be--as a girl dedicated to Jesus, sitting at His scarred feet, hearing His song over my heart. Instead of flitting, I'd rather be hearing His tasks from His mouth, His encouragement.
What is it in me that keeps going and going and going without this holy fuel?
I can say this. Martha has got to go. She's wearing me out. She's wearing my heart out.
Lord, I want to be Mary. I want to be merry. Sitting at Your feet is the best place. Take me there today. I need Your refreshment, Your words, Your encouragement. I need to hear You, need to know You're not terribly disappointed in me for my frailty and my addiction to frenetic activity. Slow me down. Hold me close. Help me to see it's all about being near You and not about doing a bunch of things that look like dedication. Make me Mary and merry.
Amen.
For those hard to buy for folks...
Dave Barry's Christmas list of fun and interesting gifts. Read it here!
The Bible Tells Me So
Thursday
I've been ruminating a bit about the Bible. For years, I've read it, mined it, studied it like a math book, memorized it, contemplated it, made lists from it, and shared it with others. I've dissected bits and pieces out of it. But seldom have I thought about it as a whole--as an amazing, surprising, sometimes tragic, melancholy, joyful, enigmatic story about God and how He intersects humankind.
Could it be that all my piecemeal thinking has ebbed the life from its sacred pages? That in thinking the Bible is just about tenets to better living, I've severed its most important themes?
I'm readying myself to write another parenting book--this time about how parents can raise healthy children in a postmodern/emergent society. In my study, I came across some wonderful words by Ivy Beckwith:
This new year, along with laughing more, I want to read the Bible not merely for bullet points, but for a better grasp of the story of God, for the mystery, for the tidbits of His character I miss when I trivialize His words into spiritual to-be lists.
Could it be that all my piecemeal thinking has ebbed the life from its sacred pages? That in thinking the Bible is just about tenets to better living, I've severed its most important themes?
I'm readying myself to write another parenting book--this time about how parents can raise healthy children in a postmodern/emergent society. In my study, I came across some wonderful words by Ivy Beckwith:
"[The Bible] is not simply a fact-filled textbook to be studied and from which to glean bulleted tips for a better sex life or for dealing with difficult people or even for ways to live a moral, antiseptic life. When we use the Bible with children simply to teach doctrinal tenets, moral absolutes, tips for better living, or stories of heroes to be emulated, we stunt the spiritual formation of our children and deprive them of the valuable, spiritual story of God."
(Beckwith, Ivy: Postmodern Children's Ministry: Ministry to Children in the 21st Century. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, p. 126).
This new year, along with laughing more, I want to read the Bible not merely for bullet points, but for a better grasp of the story of God, for the mystery, for the tidbits of His character I miss when I trivialize His words into spiritual to-be lists.
Fun Girl Gift
Dena Dyer and Laurie Barker Copeland have created a laugh-out-loud (and sometimes cry-me-a-river) compilation of groovy stories from a variety of women in varying stages of life. It's the kind of book you can digest in small sittings, but may want to keep reading well into the night. I was especially happy to see my friend Leslie Wilson's piece entitled "No Place Like Home." If you're looking for a lighthearted, funny, and touching gift this Christmas, The Groovy Chicks' Road Trip To Peace may be what you're looking for.
Happy Birthday to an Almost Teenager!
Our sweet nearly-Christmas baby, Sophie, will be thirteen on Christmas Eve. I still can't believe it! So, to celebrate, we told her she'd be getting a new 'do by Gaspar, an amazingly wonderful hairdresser. He painted subtle lowlights in her hair and shaped it. Here are the before and after pictures!
A little nervous, perhaps?
A little nervous, perhaps?
Me, Gaspar and the new Sophie. Happy Birthday, dear Sophie!
Walking in Fading Light
Sunday
We're trying to recapture our Sundays as days of rest. Part of rest for me is getting outside, seeing the world God created. I am rejuvenated in His creation. So, we planned on taking a walk, but as the day wore on, the light waned.
We could have decided against it as dusk settled in around the golden red hills of Le Rouret. Could have stayed put in the quiet of our home. But we didn't. We put on shoes, coats, gloves and hats and walked the dusk.
I came back alive, more alive than I felt before we left. We passed by homes with light emanating from within. We saw the sky blush salmon. The trees reached toward heaven in a sacred song. The scent of pine made me smile.
We meandered along a country road, a road I've run on before. Perhaps I was running a bit too fast to really notice. Tonight as our family walked, nostalgia grabbed me.
A white picket fence.
Those of you who know me well know my longings for a home in the country, complete with a white picket fence. I have never seen one in France. It's more of a wrought iron or stone fence place. But there it was, long and white under a darkening sky, with tangles of roses climbing in and through.
It was God's reminder to me that He is my picket fence. He is my dreams, hopes, and longings all wrapped up in the person of Jesus. I may never live in the country, encircled by pickets. But I will always live encircled by His delight.
The moon smiled back at us as we ambled home. We passed the picket fence, still white in the graying light. I held Julia's hand, wondering what her dreams were.
We could have decided against it as dusk settled in around the golden red hills of Le Rouret. Could have stayed put in the quiet of our home. But we didn't. We put on shoes, coats, gloves and hats and walked the dusk.
I came back alive, more alive than I felt before we left. We passed by homes with light emanating from within. We saw the sky blush salmon. The trees reached toward heaven in a sacred song. The scent of pine made me smile.
We meandered along a country road, a road I've run on before. Perhaps I was running a bit too fast to really notice. Tonight as our family walked, nostalgia grabbed me.
A white picket fence.
Those of you who know me well know my longings for a home in the country, complete with a white picket fence. I have never seen one in France. It's more of a wrought iron or stone fence place. But there it was, long and white under a darkening sky, with tangles of roses climbing in and through.
It was God's reminder to me that He is my picket fence. He is my dreams, hopes, and longings all wrapped up in the person of Jesus. I may never live in the country, encircled by pickets. But I will always live encircled by His delight.
The moon smiled back at us as we ambled home. We passed the picket fence, still white in the graying light. I held Julia's hand, wondering what her dreams were.
Did you know there was more?
Tuesday
I've been working through issues (or "ish" as my friend Jen calls them) in my life lately. (Actually, being the overly introspective sort, I'm constantly refining and redefining my ish--it's a weird mental hobby of mine!)
I chatted with my personal coach about my plethora of ish. She asked me if I'd read the serenity prayer lately.
"Oh yeah, sure. That one about accepting what you can't change and the wisdom to know the difference?"
"Yes, but there's more," she said.
So, for those of you who have ish, I offer the REST of the serenity prayer for you. It's good stuff.
God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.
Living one day at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
Taking, as He did, this sinful world
as it is, not as I would have it;
Trusting that He will make all things right
if I surrender to His will;
That I may be reasonably happy in this life
and supremely happy with Him
Forever in the next.
Amen.
--Reinhold Niebuhr
Wow. The living one day at a time, one moment at a time is a challenge for me, a gal with ish. My poor crazy head is spinning, spinning, spinning with ideas and scraps and thoughts, that it's hard for me to be in the moment, truly alive and aware.
Accepting hardships as a pathway to peace? That's hard. I would rather ram my head against hardships, not embrace them, but then I remember that pesky J.B. Philips translation of James about counting it all joy. "Don't resent them (trials) as intruders, but welcome them as friends!" James is one interesting guy! I bet he had ish.
Taking the world as it is and not as I would like it? Another counterintuitive one. Accepting reality is hard to take sometimes, but I see Niebuhr's wisdom.
Finding my ultimate joy in Jesus is something I should pray more often, particularly when I'm flooded with ish upon ish. It's all about Him, His glory, His filling, His attention to my ish, His strength through my ish...
So, there's a bit of armchair psychology for you. Read/pray this prayer this week. And ask God to still your heart so you can be in the moment, embrace trials, accept life and find joy in Jesus.
I chatted with my personal coach about my plethora of ish. She asked me if I'd read the serenity prayer lately.
"Oh yeah, sure. That one about accepting what you can't change and the wisdom to know the difference?"
"Yes, but there's more," she said.
So, for those of you who have ish, I offer the REST of the serenity prayer for you. It's good stuff.
God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.
Living one day at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
Taking, as He did, this sinful world
as it is, not as I would have it;
Trusting that He will make all things right
if I surrender to His will;
That I may be reasonably happy in this life
and supremely happy with Him
Forever in the next.
Amen.
--Reinhold Niebuhr
Wow. The living one day at a time, one moment at a time is a challenge for me, a gal with ish. My poor crazy head is spinning, spinning, spinning with ideas and scraps and thoughts, that it's hard for me to be in the moment, truly alive and aware.
Accepting hardships as a pathway to peace? That's hard. I would rather ram my head against hardships, not embrace them, but then I remember that pesky J.B. Philips translation of James about counting it all joy. "Don't resent them (trials) as intruders, but welcome them as friends!" James is one interesting guy! I bet he had ish.
Taking the world as it is and not as I would like it? Another counterintuitive one. Accepting reality is hard to take sometimes, but I see Niebuhr's wisdom.
Finding my ultimate joy in Jesus is something I should pray more often, particularly when I'm flooded with ish upon ish. It's all about Him, His glory, His filling, His attention to my ish, His strength through my ish...
So, there's a bit of armchair psychology for you. Read/pray this prayer this week. And ask God to still your heart so you can be in the moment, embrace trials, accept life and find joy in Jesus.
Fete de Noel
Sunday
Every year our village of Le Rouret has a Christmas fair. I thought you might enjoy a few pictures of today's event:
This little piggie went to market...for those of you leaning toward vegetarianism!
Under a sunny canopy, folks sell their art, pottery, cheese, bread...
Mr. Turkey gobbled and gobbled.
Cute children posing in front of pottery.
Traditional dancers.
Deck the Halls!
We tackled the tree...
With this crazy three
How blessed are we!
To be older than three(It's amazing to see her hand grow so much!)
I've been tagged
So, the sevens are making their way around the blogosphere and I have been tagged. Here are my responses:
Seven Things to Do Before I Die
1. Climb Mount Rainier
2. Run a marathon
3. See my kids get married
4. Reconcile a relationship
5. Go to Israel
6. Learn to like wine and/or fois gras
7. See the churh we're planting here start, grow, and plant other churches.
Seven Things I Cannot Do
I cannot...
1. Play the guitar well (I try, but it's painful)
2. Seem to understand that my worth isn't tangled with everyone else's opinion of me.
3. Do pushups.
4. Or pullups.
5. Bike up to Gourdon (but I want to some day)
6. Ever stay warm, even in summer. My toes are icicles as I type this.
7. Get used to using French (but I want to get better).
Seven Things that Attract Me to My Husband
1. He loves Jesus.
2. He loves me more than any other human has ever loved me.
3. He forgives me.
4. He's cute as all get out.
5. He's hilarious (in a dry humor sort of way)
6. He is a positive, glass half full kind of guy.
7. He takes risks for the sake of the Kingdom.
Seven Things I Say Most Often
1. Help!
2. Hold on.
3. Crazy.
4. Jesus, I need You.
5. I love you.
6. Bonjour.
7. A bientot.
Seven Books I Love
1. To Kill a Mockingbird
2. Peace like a River
3. The Secret Life of Bees
4. Margin (By Richard Swenson)
5. My Utmost for His Highest
6. When God Weeps
7. Changes that Heal
Seven Movies I Would Watch Over and Over Again
1. To Kill a Mockingbird
2. Strictly Ballroom
3. Star Wars
4. It's a Wonderful Life
5. The Sound of Music
6. Little Women
7. Pride and Prejudice (A&E version with Colin Firth and Jennifer Ehle)
Seven People I Want to Join in Too
1. Heather Cady
2. Brian Newman
3. Troy Cady
4. Kelly Crull
5. Rogier Bos
6. Justus Heyman
7. Samantha Heyman
*All these folks belong to Christian Associates and are missionaries in Europe or the US. I think they'd offer a different perspective.
Seven Things to Do Before I Die
1. Climb Mount Rainier
2. Run a marathon
3. See my kids get married
4. Reconcile a relationship
5. Go to Israel
6. Learn to like wine and/or fois gras
7. See the churh we're planting here start, grow, and plant other churches.
Seven Things I Cannot Do
I cannot...
1. Play the guitar well (I try, but it's painful)
2. Seem to understand that my worth isn't tangled with everyone else's opinion of me.
3. Do pushups.
4. Or pullups.
5. Bike up to Gourdon (but I want to some day)
6. Ever stay warm, even in summer. My toes are icicles as I type this.
7. Get used to using French (but I want to get better).
Seven Things that Attract Me to My Husband
1. He loves Jesus.
2. He loves me more than any other human has ever loved me.
3. He forgives me.
4. He's cute as all get out.
5. He's hilarious (in a dry humor sort of way)
6. He is a positive, glass half full kind of guy.
7. He takes risks for the sake of the Kingdom.
Seven Things I Say Most Often
1. Help!
2. Hold on.
3. Crazy.
4. Jesus, I need You.
5. I love you.
6. Bonjour.
7. A bientot.
Seven Books I Love
1. To Kill a Mockingbird
2. Peace like a River
3. The Secret Life of Bees
4. Margin (By Richard Swenson)
5. My Utmost for His Highest
6. When God Weeps
7. Changes that Heal
Seven Movies I Would Watch Over and Over Again
1. To Kill a Mockingbird
2. Strictly Ballroom
3. Star Wars
4. It's a Wonderful Life
5. The Sound of Music
6. Little Women
7. Pride and Prejudice (A&E version with Colin Firth and Jennifer Ehle)
Seven People I Want to Join in Too
1. Heather Cady
2. Brian Newman
3. Troy Cady
4. Kelly Crull
5. Rogier Bos
6. Justus Heyman
7. Samantha Heyman
*All these folks belong to Christian Associates and are missionaries in Europe or the US. I think they'd offer a different perspective.
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