Thankful Thoughts: Nashvilleness

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Today, I’m thankful to live in a great city. I never would have guessed how much I would love Nashville when we first contemplated moving here, but I’m glad we didn’t let our reservations keep us from experiencing such a great place to live.

One of my favorite things about Nashville is all of the free and fun things to do. There is never a lack of something interesting going on. Today was a Tennessee History Festival at Bicentennial Capitol Mall State Park. There was an interesting reinactment of a Civil War era encampment, both civilian and military. Each participant is very knowledgeable about the Civil War era, and eager to answer questions.

Right next door is also the Farmer’s Market, where we picked up some produce and had a delicious lunch. The Farmer’s Market is a steady source of fresh and local produce, baked goods, and international ingredients. The food court is pretty great too!

Tonight, we watched the Nashville Predators play their 1000th game, from the comfort of our own home. While we don’t make it out to games like we used to, we love the fact that Nashville has an NHL hockey team. Ken never lived anywhere close to an NHL team in Canada and it seems almost bizarre to think that we had to move to the southern United States to have the opportunity to regularly go to games and practices.

But of course our favorite part about Nashville is the people! We LOVE our neighbors and our church, and they have become like a second family to us here. There have been many dark days that have been brightened by the kindness of our fellow Nashvillians.

So today, I’m thankful that God has placed us in a most unlikely spot: Nashville.

Thankful Thoughts: Congo Contemplations

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Today, I’m thankful for the Democratic Republic of Congo.

In a time when many countries are closing down their international adoption programs, the DRC is continuing to process adoptions, even for infants, which is increasingly rare. Their country has seen much war and destruction of infrastructure, yet they are allowing other countries to assist them in finding homes for their orphans. Sometimes its easier for countries to just close their doors while they heal. The DRC has opened its doors for help to enter.

The people of the DRC are also establishing a democratic process in the country. Democracy can be messy. News from the DRC this week has indicated that there is significant violence, repression, instability, and concern that preparations for the election will not be ready by November 28th. And yet this election and its aftermath is something we must wait through and the government must reorganize before our adoption can be processed. Sometimes democracy comes at a high price. I’m thankful that in spite of the obstacles and dangers, the DRC is committed to hearing the voice of its people.

So today, I’m thankful for, and praying for, the Democratic Republic of Congo. This month is one of the most important in their history, and therefore a very important month in our lives as well.

Thankful Thoughts: Dream a Little Dream With Me

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A guest post by Ken

I am thankful for dreams. Not the counting sheep and pajamas variety, but those are pretty good as well.

I am thankful for the kind that inspire, that cause you to keep on when you feel like giving, or the “we’ve never tried that before” type of dreams.

We continue on our path towards adoption because of the power of dreams.

Tonight as I was driving home from church, I was dreaming about what it will be like when our children are living with us in America. Things that seem so routine will be extraordinary. I started thinking about what it will be like the first time Robin and I take our children to the grocery store. There will be a first time for them to experience the bounty of an American grocery store. I want to be there and I want to see the look on their face as they see the variety and abundance of the produce. I want to say to them, “you can pick any fruit or vegetable you would like”. It may blow their mind!

If you were in their shoes, what would you pick? Would you go with something you’ve tasted before or would you try something that you’ve had before? I think I would go for a watermelon. It’s big! If it’s good, then a lot of it would be great! A tangerine might be tasty, but it would be over before you know it.

Such is the power of dreams. Things may not work out exactly like that, but it’s certainly better to dream about such things than to worry about what might go wrong or might never come to pass.

Perhaps the only thing better than dreams are great memories. And soon we will be making lots of those with our kids!

Thankful Thoughts: A Dog’s Life

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A guest post by Ken

I am thankful for dogs; more to the point for being a dog owner.

It’s not that dogs do much other than eat, poop, sleep, bark and dig holes.

The main reason that I am thankful for our dogs, Buddy and Holly, is that it causes us to live a life that is conducive to having dogs. Everyday we take a walk with our dogs. Robin and I use this time to talk about our day and get rid of stress. They cause us to slow down and take stock of our day. And by being good pet owners, we are actually being good to ourselves.

Our dogs don’t care about so many of the things that cause us anxiety. They bring great perspective. Quite honestly most of the stuff that we fret over really isn’t worth the trouble.Give a dog a place to sleep, a plate of food and a few scratches behind the ears and they are content. They don’t worry where their next belly rub will come from or if there’s enough raw hides for tomorrow.

Their love is unconditional. We get licks and tail wags regardless of how our day has gone. And if you can’t find a pillow, there’s always a soft, furry, warm canine who will volunteer for the job.

Thankful Thoughts: Sweets and Slumber

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Today, I’m thankful for the extra hour of sleep that the time change gave us! It felt great to catch a few extra minutes of sleep Sunday morning, and still have time to make breakfast for our college kids without feeling like I had to rush trying to make and keep a hot breakfast hot! And for some reason, we find ourselves still going to bed early, as if the time hadn’t changed. So the extra hour of sleep continues!

Speaking of breakfast, here’s what I made the college students for breakfast this weekend.

Monkey Bread Muffins

  • 2 Cans refrigerated biscuits
  • 1/2 C sugar
  • 2 Tbs cinnamon
  • 1  stick butter
  • 2 tsp vanilla
  • 1 C brown sugar

Preheat oven to 350 degrees and line muffin tins with paper muffin liners. (Trust me, you’ll want them.)

Melt butter, brown sugar, and vanilla together over low heat. Bring to slow boil until sugar is dissolved. 

Meanwhile, separate refrigerated biscuits and cut into quarters. Mix together sugar and cinnamon in a resealable bag, and add biscuit quarters and shake to coat.

Place three sugared biscuit quarters into each lined muffin cup. Sprinkle any remaining cinnamon mixture over biscuits. Spoon melted butter mixture over biscuits.

Bake in preheated oven for 10-12 minutes, until tops are golden.  .  . or you can no longer stand the smell of cinnamon-flavored deliciousness.

 

Enjoy!  

 

Thankful Thoughts: Breathgiving

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Today, I’m thankful for the gift of breathing.

It’s hard not to take breathing for granted. Most of us inhale and exhale over 20,000 times a day. 

Five years ago this month, I woke up with trouble breathing. My lungs felt like they were on fire, I had a hard time catching my breath. I thought it was a simple case of bronchitis. But it wouldn’t get better, and the medicines didn’t really help. Over the next four months, I would get a little better, and then much worse. By the first week of April, my lung function tests were at 28%, and I was sent home with intensive outpatient therapy. But I didn’t stay there long. By Good Friday, I was in the hospital, because the work to breathe had become too hard, and my muscles were at the point of exhaustion. Eleven days later, and thousands of dollars of tests later, I was sent back home with 14 different medications to keep me alive, unable to even walk even 20 feet to my kitchen.

As I laid in bed, struggling for every breath, I had no idea if I would ever be able to leave my home again, work again, or go to church again. All I could do was wait. Wait to breathe, wait to get on with my life, or even to know that things would never return to normal. Not only was I struggling with breathing physically, I was struggling with breathing spiritually. I felt like I was holding my breath waiting for God to heal me, teach me, or provide answers to why this sickness stayed so persistently, and somehow redeem the suffering I was going through.

In Ezekiel 37, God brought Ezekiel to look over the Valley of Dry Bones. I can feel the hopelessness that Ezekiel felt, in the middle of the dry dusty lifeless valley, because I felt I was in a similar valley myself.

Ezekiel 37: 1 The hand of the LORD was upon me, and he brought me out by the Spirit of the LORD and set me in the middle of a valley; it was full of bones. 2 He led me back and forth among them, and I saw a great many bones on the floor of the valley, bones that were very dry. 3 He asked me, “Son of man, can these bones live?”

I said, “O Sovereign LORD, you alone know.”

Have you ever been led to your own valley of dry bones? Refreshment is no where in sight, despair is surrounding you, the parched wind is drawing the very life breath out of you? God seems to be distant, and your only sense of Him is His allowance of the bleak situations and unanswered questions. You are at the mercy of His mercy, and answers don’t come quickly.

I wonder how long Ezekiel wandered among the bones in that valley. There were a great many of them– a great many glimpses of lives that had gone to waste.

How many widows were left by what happened in this great valley of bones?

Were those the bones of a great warrior laying there?

Those bones seem so small – was he just a boy?

A great length of time had passed while God let the bones parch, dehydrate, desiccate. The bones were very dry. The instant healing had not taken place in their lives. Hope had been snuffed out.

I’m sure the bones were a bit foreboding for Ezekiel. So this is what God allows to happen to His people. . . I wonder if Ezekiel expected that He might soon be the next set of bones.

I know I wondered. I waited months for improvement, answers, hope . . . Six months in an arid valley not only suffocated my lungs, but suffocated my spirit. All I could do was wait.

And in the waiting, God began to speak. Not in a bolt of lightning, or in a fierce windstorm, but in a whisper. Almost as if God had to pin me down in breathless exhaustion before I could hear Him speak.

While the events of my life were very uncertain, I learned that God is not. Instead of wrestling with God and wondering what would happen to me, I discovered the balance of living in a state of expectant uncertainty. The questions of why God was allowing me to become so sick, or if or when my illness would end, were indications that I, in fact, was not fully surrendered to God.

The truth is, God is not as concerned with my comfort, health, or happiness as He is with who I am becoming in Him. The purpose of my relationship with God is not for Him to heal me, bless me, or even inspire me, but to develop my understanding of Him and my love for Him. I do not want to overlook the enjoyment of God today while waiting for healing to take place. I want to desire Him more than His healing.

The truth is, the dry valley may not be as much about the bones, as the journey God took with Ezekiel through them.

Ezekiel 37:4  “Then he said to me, “Prophesy to these bones and say to them, ‘Dry bones, hear the word of the LORD! 5 This is what the Sovereign LORD says to these bones: I will make breath (or spirit) enter you, and you will come to life. 6 I will attach tendons to you and make flesh come upon you and cover you with skin; I will put breath in you, and you will come to life. Then you will know that I am the LORD.’ ” 7 So I prophesied as I was commanded. And as I was prophesying, there was a noise, a rattling sound, and the bones came together, bone to bone. 8 I looked, and tendons and flesh appeared on them and skin covered them, but there was no breath in them.
9 Then he said to me, “Prophesy to the breath; prophesy, son of man, and say to it, ‘This is what the Sovereign LORD says: Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe into these slain, that they may live.’ ” 10 So I prophesied as he commanded me, and breath entered them; they came to life and stood up on their feet—a vast army.”

God put breath back in me. In May of 2007, my health began to improve. My doctors and I surmised that a strange combination of a lung-remodeling virus, medication side effects , and new onset of allergies to all trees, grasses, and weeds, corn, potatoes, carrots, almost all raw fruits and vegetables, fish, nuts, and dust mites, as well as irritants like perfume and household cleaners had kept me in a persistent state of breathlessness. Obviously, I am much better today. After avoidance, careful living, and God’s healing, my allergies have dwindled. Today, the only dangerous allergy that remains is to tree nuts.

But God also breathed new life into me spiritually. God taught me much about living in a state of expectant uncertainty, and loving each individual breath of life He has given me.

So today, and every day, I’m thankful for the gift of breathing.

Thankful Thoughts: Created to Be Creative

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Every month, I look forward to the first Saturday of the month for one reason: 1/2 price at Goodwill day. And if I go to the Goodwill in Berry Hill, I can also stop by the Goodwill Outlet, which is located next door. With items priced at $1.39/pound, one doesn’t need a half price sale to get a good deal. For me, shopping at Goodwill is not just about frugality, although I am pretty cheap. But more so, it’s about buying clothing from a company that has social redemptive value, in the same way that we only drink fair trade coffee.

At the regular Goodwill, I found this cute jacket.

 

And after having my eye on this project  that I saw on Pinterest, I stopped by Goodwill outlet to purchase some super cheap t-shirts to make a scarf with nothing more than 3 t-shirts, and a pair of scissors.

Start by cutting off the seams of the bottom of the t-shirts.

Then cut 2 cm strips of t-shirt from the bottom of the t-shirt.

Give the t-shirt a good stretch, then wrap it around your hand 5-8 times, depending on the size of the original t-shirt. Rings should be 3-4 inches in diameter.

 

Repeat approximately 30 times, using two or more t-shirts.

Using either similar width strips of t-shirt, or the seamed portions that were cut off earlier, cut 4 inch long strips of t-shirt fabric to serve as ties. I used two t-shirts for the loops, and one t-shirt for the ties.

Tie loops together either alternating, or in some type of pattern.

 

I think it turned out pretty cute, and is extremely easy!

And I think it looks great with my new-to-me jacket.

Today, I’m thankful for creativity. I believe that God is the author of creativity,and that we are so blessed to be able to enjoy His handiwork all around us in nature, and even within us. I spend most of my week immersed in the sciences, and on my day off,  I so enjoy the chance to express creativity. And since God is a creative God Himself, I think He must be pleased when we enjoy the creative process too.

Thankful Thoughts: Playing Dad

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A guest post by Ken

I am thankful for cartoons, hot wheels, Crayola markers, Lego sets and action figures. Not only are they the stuff of my childhood, but Lord-willing they will soon be the tools of the trade when I become a Dad (which cannot come soon enough for me!).

Perhaps this can explain what I mean.

Robin had asked me to work on a small project that would become a play mat for our kids. Robin had discovered “busy bags”. She had asked me to draw a simple landscape for hot wheel cars. So I grabbed a handful of markers, put on a movie and enjoyed a snack.

So while I was on my day off playing with toy cars, watching a movie, “Captain America” and snacking on Halloween candy it dawned on me: one of the great perks of being a parent is that you get to re-live parts of your childhood. I realized that I wasn’t playing, I was practicing to be a Dad! This was field research.

Maybe being a good parent was nothing more than being able to relate to a child at their level in their world. It may be that they don’t need lectures, but for me to just be there for them. Even if I don’t know what to say, I can try to enter their world and listen. For months I have been wondering and worrying about what kind of a father I would be. I could have saved myself a number of sleepless nights if I had only known that part of being a good dad is the ability to be a kid again. I can do that!

Perhaps those pearls of wisdom that my Dad was able to dispel when I was a child were simply his ability to remember what it was like to be a little boy as well. I may not remember much from the lectures, spankings and other attempts at instilling discipline, but I distinctly remember playing catch in the backyard, camping trips and countless game nights in our household.

So I might not have all the answers or always know what the right things to say, but one thing I am certain of is that I can be there for my kids and I can enjoy playing in their world. And perhaps that’s what love is for a five year old.

I just pray my children love building with LEGO!

Thankful Thoughts: A ReWedding to Remember

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It all began when Ken and I were married back in September of 1996. We were both working for a church that was neither Wesleyan nor Nazarene. The pastor of that church, our boss, insisted that he perform our wedding ceremony, instead of my father (who is ordained in the Wesleyan church) because, “Weddings are a religious ceremonies, not family affairs.” What could I say? I was brokenhearted, but he was my boss. The pastor told me I could only have one song in our wedding. He attempted to control every detail. He spread untrue gossip about Ken and I around the church, and shared information that had been discussed confidentially with whoever he wanted to know. He was rude to me, my friends, and my relatives.

Then, only six weeks after we were married, Ken and I left the church after finding out some unseemly details about the pastor’s life– multiple affairs, embezzlement, fraud, death threats, etc.  When we tried to explain to the church board what we knew of the pastor, but they didn’t want to hear our story or see our evidence. They reluctantly “allowed us to resign,” and gave us 10 days to get out of our parsonage.  “How dare you accuse a man of God of such things,” they scorned. We were homeless, penniless, and Ken lost his permission to work in the United States until we could refile for another immigration visa (which took nearly a year). A month after we left that church, we found out that the pastor had subsequently confessed to immoral and illegal activities— what we knew of and more. We never received an apology or even an acknowledgement from the church, the denomination, or that pastor. And “that pastor” got an extensive paid sabbatical, and a promotion to a larger church in another area of the country.

All that to say, our wedding day ended up not being the fairy tale day that every girl dreams about. It was supposed to be the one happiest days of my life, the one day that was about us, the bride and groom, but it was forever marred by a man who shouldn’t have even been in the picture, except that he invited himself to be there. I never even ordered pictures. I tried not to think about my wedding day. The important thing was that Ken and I were married. There is so much more to a marriage than the wedding day, but a part of me was always a little sad that I couldn’t look back on the day with untainted joy.

However, in 2002, the week of our sixth anniversary, as I was starting to teach a Thursday morning lab section at Indiana Wesleyan, Ken walked in the door of my classroom wearing a tuxedo, with a videographer tow. Ken came to the front of the classroom, got down on one knee and asked me to marry him all over again, as he presented me with a diamond necklace.
I said yes.

I went home for lunch with my mind racing through the details. What would I wear? Ken handed me a box from my mother, who had bought me a re-wedding dress. Flowers had been ordered. Bridesmaids and groomsmen had been arranged. Music was chosen. Wedding cake was ordered. Ken had taken care of every detail. Our current pastor, whom we dearly loved, agreed to perform the ceremony.

That Sunday night, in front of friends and students from Indiana Wesleyan and our college ministry, the Search, Ken and I renewed our vows. We snapped new pictures. We ate cake with new friends. We recommitted ourselves to lives devoted to each other.

Ken gave me the most precious gift imaginable: joyful wedding memories. I had not asked for a re-wedding, but he wanted me to look back on our wedding with delight, because he believes that every bride should have her special day. 

Today, I’m especially thankful for my husband who has the integrity to stand for what is right, even when it meant losing our jobs and our home. I’m thankful for a husband who loves the Lord more than he loves me. And I’m thankful for a husband who reminds me every day that I am his beautiful bride.