The Miss List, volume one

One month from today I'll be boarding a plane to Dublin!  It's almost official.  I've purchased my ticket through a missionary travel agency.  I'm just waiting on an invoice from them.  Then it will be officially official.  One month.  That's crazy!  I'm trying to cram as much into the next few weeks as I can, which makes the time seem to pass even faster.  So much to do, so little time... totally cliche and totally true.  My excitement to go gets a little clouded by my reluctance to leave.  There are so many things I'm gonna miss.  Here's a list, off the top of my head:

*Playing Gin Rummy with Jes.  The current score is something like 6,650 to 6,470.  I'm winning.  We're trying to figure out how we can play on Skype.  It's gonna be tricky.
*Sonic Happy Hour.  Where else can you get 44 ounces of Diet Coke with vanilla and easy ice for $1.10?
*My little Red Team swimmers.  They have a tendency to drive me bananas, but they've grown on me.  I'm gonna miss coaching them.
*My sewing machine.  Access to cool fabric.  The Quilt Asylum where I get most of my cool fabric.
*The sun.  But not the heat.  And the sun has been known to make an appearance in Dublin, so maybe this one won't be as bad as I think.  But in case it is, I'm gonna go ahead and add "being tan" to the Miss List, too.
*Target.  No explanation necessary.
*Working out with Jes.  Working out alone isn't nearly as fun.  I may have to recruit the girls on my team to join me... get ready, girls!
*Lunch with Mooly.  That's our time to get caught up on current events... The Young and the Restless.  The Bold and the Beautiful.  Days of Our Lives.  Oh, and I can't forget Project Runway, it's probably the most legitimate waste of our time.
*Baseball.  Even though the Rangers haven't been giving me much reason to hang around.  Hopefully that'll change soon.
*Mexican food.  Tortillas.  Quesadillas.  Chips and salsa.  Cheese dip.  Guacamole.  Fajitas...
*Hot Tamales.

Of course I'll miss the big, important, obvious things too... my family, my Dakota, my friends... but those are all too sad to dwell on, so we'll pass over them quickly...

I'm sure I'll think of several things to add to the Miss List after I've been in Dublin for a while.  In the meantime, I'm going to overindulge in as many things on the list as possible!

Mooly's Day

This year, Mooly bought baseball tickets so we could all celebrate Mother's Day Mooly-style.  The Yankees came to celebrate too.  Remember this post?  Mooly loves the Yankees.  (Well, not all Yankees, just a few particular ones).

We went to Jes and Brother.In.Law's apartment for brunch after church.  Then we all piled into the car and headed for The Ballpark.  Mooly picked the best seats ever!  We were way up above home plate.  Thirty minutes into the game, we were in the shade (I don't think the thin layer of SPF 15 I sprayed at the apartment would've lasted me 3 hours anyway), and there was a nice breeze blowing through the stadium.  I take that back... the "nice breeze" probably cost us a homerun or two... maybe it wasn't so nice afterall...

B.I.L had never been to a Major League Baseball game before.  We made him sit by the Yankee fans on our row.  He didn't seem to mind.  He did eat a hotdog.  And he whistled a few times.  Really loud.  I didn't know he could do that.

Mooly hit me in the arm for booing the home plate umpire after he made a less-than-satisfactory-and-extremely-crucial-bad-call.  "We don't boo!" she said.  I said he deserved it.  She said it didn't matter.  I didn't boo when the first base ump made a similar mistake.  Mooly was proud.

We didn't win.  But that's okay (at least that's what I keep telling myself).  We still had a perfect time.  Perfect seats.  Perfect weather (in the shade anyway).  Jes and I shared a perfect pretzel.  It was a Perfect Mooly's Day!

A Dublin kind of day.

I used to hate running, as documented in this post from way-back-when.  In recent months, however, I've had a change of heart.  I wouldn't go so far as to say that I love running, but I will admit that I'm starting to like it slightly more than a little bit.  Especially on days like today.  Low 50's.  Gray.  Drizzle.  Dublin weather.

As much as I complain about the heat, I do love the sun.  Because it makes me tan.  Sometimes too tan (as illustrated in this picture).  But I'm willing to trade a few months of bronzed skin (plus the premature aging and melanoma that goes with it) for an entire year of cooler weather.  Call me crazy, but I love days like today.  Dublin kind of days.  Guess I'm making the right move... "literally".

I need more cardboard, please.

We did cardboard testimonies as part of the Easter service at church this past Sunday.  I got a call at the beginning of the week asking if I'd be willing to share my story and God's faithfulness.  Of course I agreed.  When we got to church on Sunday, my sign was waiting for me.  The first side said, "Needed funds."  The other, "Going to Ireland."  I read it again. Five words.  The wrong words.  They were true words, I had a need and God had provided, but they didn't speak deeply enough.  These words were all about financial need, monetary provision.  That's only a tiny part of my story.  The wrong part.  The less important part.  So here's the Whole-Story-So-Far, written by the Author and Perfector, and condensed into sentences that could fit on (lots of) cardboard:

Graduated college feeling lost and seeking a greater purpose.
Moved to Chile to teach English for 1 year.
Came back home after 3 months, feeling even more lost amidst my deflated dreams of adventure.
Went to graduate school, for lack of anything else to do.
Decided that a job at Heifer International would fulfill my desire for purpose.
Applied for several jobs at Heifer.
Prayed for an interview.
Got an interview.
Didn't get the job.
More feeling lost.  More prayer for purpose.  More desperate searching.
Moved to Little Rock.
Got a job at Starbucks.  Loved it.  Left after 9 months.
Starting working at an outdoor outfitter.  Enjoyed a killer discount on awesome gear.
Transferred to Northwest Arkansas with said outfitter.
Got let-go after 3 months for my increasing wander-lust, that nagging desire for something bigger.
Got a call from my Daddy.  He'd heard about a team going to Ireland, thought I'd be interested.
I wasn't.
Got 3 calls from strangers, talking about Ireland.  Thought I'd like to come meet them.
I went.
I found purpose.
We formed a team.
We trained.
We visited Dublin.
We prayed for financial support, sending churches, spiritual oversight.
They got it.  I didn't.
They moved.  I stayed.
I had my purpose, but no provision.  Now I was lost in frustration.
I waited.  I prayed for patience.
I found assurance in ancient promises of hope and future.
I found rest in my Creator.
I found a testimony forged in His faithfulness.
Then it came.  The financial support, the sending church, the spiritual oversight.
Going to Ireland.

Here's a summary of the Whole-Story-So-Far:  God is faithful.  Faithful in His pursuit.  Faithful in His call.  Faithful in His timing.  Faithful in His refining.  And, yes, faithful in His provision.  Is that too much testimony for cardboard?

My wonderful sister found this post before it was finished.  She decided to add a little flare of her own:

Jes is awesome and so pretty. I want to stuff her in my suitcase and take her to Ireland.

Take me out to the ballgame!

I got to go on a date tonight... a special date... with my Daddy... to a baseball game.  It was special for lots of reasons.  One, because I was with my Daddy.  Two, because he got the tickets from work.. which meant they were super-fancy-you-get-to-ride-the-special-elevator-to-the-upper-suite-and-don't-have-to-wait-in-line-for-a-hotdog tickets... which meant we got to be fabulous and super-fancy ourselves.  Three, because I got to wear my official Kinsler jersey for the first time (sorry, no picture of that).  You can, however, see my really cool hat.  And the view from our really cool seats.  It's a shame the Rangers lost.  But who can complain when you can have all the free nachos and diet coke you want? 

I have a sending church!!!!!!!

Last Wednesday, I got the news from University Church of Christ in Tuscaloosa, Alabama.  I first met Bob and Kelly a year ago at this dinner for Missions Resource Network.  A couple of weekends later, Craig and Merschon went to Alabama to present the vision for our work in Dublin.  Soon after, UCC signed on as the Hutson's sending congregation.  The Hutson's left in August to join the rest of the team in Dublin, leaving me here all alone.

Fast-forward a few months.  Craig and Merschon made a visit to Alabama to check-in with their UCC family when they came back to the States for a few days after Christmas.  During a coffee-conversation with Bob and Kelly, Bob said "What if University sent Jo, too?"  That began a month of scheming, dreaming, and praying on the part of the Hutsons, Bob, and Kelly.

Fast forward another month.  While I was in Dublin for a two-week visit, Craig and Merschon let me in on the conversation.  Bob had sent them an email saying that UCC would like to move forward with the possibility of becoming my sending church.  When I got home from my trip, we made plans for my own visit to Alabama.

I have never been around a church with a more generous heart, a more unified spirit, or a greater involvement in discipleship.  Everyone I met was genuinely excited about the work that is already happening in Dublin.  What a great cloud of witnesses!

A tentative timeline: I'm going back to Alabama for one more visit the 1st weekend in June. The plan is to leave for Dublin shortly after that, sometime around June 8th or so (excited squeal)!!!!

"He who calls you is faithful; he will surely do it"  --1 Thess. 5:24

And He has!

Night-night, Jes.

Last night, around 11 pm, my sister wrote the following post on my facebook:

Will you please write a new blog... I like to lay in bed and read it on my phone before I go to sleep.

Okay J,  here you go.  Consider this your bedtime story.

A long, long time ago there was a little girl named MaryGeorge.  She was sweet and perfect.  So sweet and perfect, in fact, that her parents decided the family would be twice-as-wonderful if MG had a little sister.  MG was so excited about her new sister.  She loved Rosi from the very beginning.  They played and played.  Sometimes they fought.  But mostly they loved, and as they got bigger, their sistership got stronger.

There lived, nearby, a Boring Woman.  She detested the girls and their sistership.  Too much laughing.  Too much playing.  Too much fun.  All the noise interrupted the monotony of her boring life.  If only I could make them stay inside, she thought.  Then they would be bored too, and I wouldn't have to listen to their joy.  So she cursed the sky.  The clouds grew big and black.  Then, with a flash of lightening and a crash of thunder, the clouds broke into heavy rain.

MG and Rosi started running home, terrified by the frightening storm.  Then they remembered a song they'd learned long ago.  If all the raindrops were lemon-drops and gum-drops, oh whatta day that would be.  They mumbled the words quietly at first, then louder and louder.  The song melted away their fright.  Soon they were dancing in the rain as they continued to sing.  We'd stand outside with our mouths opened wide, ah ah ah ahahahahahah.  Their laughter returned, and so did the sun, breaking the curse of Boring Woman.

Furious, Boring Woman raised her fist to the sky, screaming more angry curses.  Immediately, the wind began to blow.  The air turned icy and cold.  The clouds returned.  This time it wasn't rain, but snow, that fell from the clouds.  A blizzard blinded the girls.  They shivered against the wind.  They fought to see past the white.  And again they began to sing.  If all the snowflakes were hershey bars and cupcakes, oh whatta day that would be.  The wind subsided.  The snow became calmer.  The flakes seemed to dance their way to the ground, joining the sisters' song.  We'd stand outside with our mouths opened wide, ah ah ah ahahahahahah.

Boring Woman was appalled!  Even the weather was having fun!  Boring Woman couldn't stand it anymore. She threw all her boring things into her one boring suitcase and moved far, far away to the boring land of Thor, where it was dark and gloomy all the time.  The sisters never saw her again.

The end.

Night, night, sister.

Procrastination... or, avoiding the present at the expense of the future...

I think the key indicator of being great at something is to make it look easy, effortless, to fool everyone else into thinking it was never hard to begin with.  And, generally, we don't get to choose what we want to be great at... it's chosen for us, already determined, predestined.  (For example, I will never be a great singer.  Or dancer.  Or basketball player.)  Of course, this doesn't mean greatness is guaranteed.  It still requires hard work, determination, tenacity, and all the other persistent qualities that accompany its achievement.  I say all that to get to the following:  I am a great procrastinator.  I don't mean to be.  I try to fight it.  But the inevitable is always the victor.  At the end of the day, when I look back at all that time, wondering where it all went, not a moment seems to have been wasted.  I am extremely productive at not getting anything done.  And I make it look so easy.

Take today, for example.

I'm leaving town tomorrow, going to Alabama to meet with a possible sending church.  It's kind of a big deal, you know, since I've been praying and waiting for this opportunity for over 2 years, and since it could lead to a phenomenal display of how God lavishes us with His faithfulness.  My To-Do list was simple.  Clean all my rooms (bed, bath, sewing) and pack.  That's it.  Two things.  Well, four, but who's counting...  Here's what I did in-stead, in-between, and in-addition:


Made this functional and totally unnecessary pin cushion out of a mason jar...
Sent a way-too-lengthy-message to a friend on Facebook...
Watched an episode (or two) of How I Met Your Mother...
Played fetch with Dakota...
Skyped with Craig and Merschon (they didn't enable me on purpose)...
Painted my fingernails green (Happy St. Patrick's Day!)...
Read Denise's new blog post...
Made a smaller, equally functional, and just as unnecessary pin cushion out of another mason jar...
Posted pictures of previously mentioned pin cushions on Facebook...
Watched American Idol with Daddy and Moo...
Etc, etc, etc...

I did manage to get my rooms picked-up and clean... mostly.  My bag is packed... pretty much.  And now I've spent the last half hour writing this little post.  Call it what you will... a last-minute effort to postpone what's coming next... a desperate cry against the limiting nature of time.  I call it a final attempt at greatness.  Destiny fulfilled.

I'm SICK of this!

Sick of being sick.  Three (make that) Four days with a fever.  A real fever.  My sister, Jes-The-Nurse, says you don't really have a fever if the thermometer reads less than 100.5.  She explained it all to me when I called her and said I had a low-grade fever of 99.7... soon after, it was over 101, a real fever.  Of course, there's been coughing and achy muscles and a touch of delirium to go along with it.  I do have one thing going for me though, a secret weapon to help me battle Sick.  My Mooly.

A lot of things have changed as I grow up, and living at home at twenty-seven is a lot different than living at home at just-plain-seven.  But one thing will always be the same: when I'm sick, I need my Mooly.  Just look at that gentle, smiling face.  Who wouldn't need that in a fight against Sick?

Believe me when I say that my Mooly is a mighty warrior!  Her hands are just the right size and just the right cold for my hot head.  When she goes out, she brings me things I knew I needed (like Ben & Jerry's Chocolate Fudge Brownie ice cream) and things I didn't know I needed (like mac and cheese from Panera... yum).  She massages my back with the electric massager.  She sits on the couch with me and watches hours of Project Runway (okay, we were already planning on doing that, but she didn't complain a single time about my loud-frequent-and-totally-obnoxious coughing).  She plays fetch with Dakota in the back yard.  And of all the times I asked her to get up and get me something, only once did she say, "You can get it yourself.  You need to get up for a little while.  And you probably need to go to the bathroom."  She was right.  I did need to go to the bathroom.

I have the best Mooly in the whole entire world.

"Mamma Mia, here we go again...

... my, my, how can I resist ya?"

Three peanut butter pies in less than two weeks is acceptable behaviour (oops, i spelled that the wrong way), right?  I mean, nothing's too excessive when you're on vacation.  That's the argument I'm sticking with, anyway.

Merschon made the final pie for our Mamma-Mia-you-can't-help-but-sing-along-party (see Meryl Streep in the background there?).  And she wrote my name on the top.  Even though everyone thought I did that part on my own, and no one would believe me when I tried to defend myself.  Needless to say, all but one teeny-tiny piece got devoured that night.  Our innocent sing-along turned into a raging double-feature when we mixed in a little Moulin Rouge.  Ewan sang to Nicole, I sang to my pie, "In the name of love, one night in the name of love... I can't survive without your sweet love.  Oh baby, don't leave me this way!"

A playground for Big Girls.

Five girls and one Jane doll.  A camera.  And two hours in IKEA, unattended and unashamed.  Dancing through the displays.  Sitting on everything.  Talking loud.  Laughing hard.  Being silly is so much fun!

Bailey and Jane checking out the orange couch.  Because, according to Bailey, if it ain't orange, it ain't cool.

 Hmmm, do you think anyone will recognize me in my flower power mask?  Let's hope not.

 "Juli, put the hat on and take a picture with me PLEASE!  Why will no one take a picture with me?!?!?!?!?!"

 She obliged.  Thanks, Juli.

It started with a vest that was way to small.  Juli added the gloves.  And the neck pillow.  Denise added the nervous warnings that pictures are NOT allowed in IKEA, as indicated by the "No Camera" sign in the lower left hand corner.  Oops.

An Irish nut shell.

This time last week, I was sitting in the airport, waiting on my ride to Dublin, hoping I'd be blessed with my very own in-flight entertainment system in the headrest infront of me... you know, the kind with a remote in the arm rest where you can pick which movie you want to watch and play games and watch TV shows and stuff...  Now, a week later, I'm sitting at the Karnes' dining table, watching Denise quilt and trying to decide how to share all the craziness of these last few days without boring you with all the exhausting details of jet lag, crazy traffic, and so-on-and-so-forth.  How about a nut shell?

Mostly, I've just been hanging out with the team.  Lots of time eating, drinking tea, and enjoying being together.  I even tried playing Super Mario Brothers on the Karnes' wii, then Bailey told me I was the worst player ever, so I quit... 'cuz that's what losers do, you know... 

Last weekend, we went to a farmer's market near the Smith's and Hutson's apartments.  They got lunch.  I milked a cow.  People stared.

That same night, we had dinner at the Hutson's.  Well, I thought it was just dinner.  It ended up being a surprise birthday party for ME!!!!  I was very confused and really excited all at the same time.  It was a good excuse for Denise to make a second peanut butter pie in less than a week.  YUMMY!!!!!!

Today, Merschon and I walked to the coast and along the beach.  The sun was out and it was relatively warm.  The wind was a tad strong, to say the least.  And apparently Davis and Bailey are the only ones willing to smile with me in a photograph... unfortunate.

There's still a lot on the agenda for my remaining week.  A team meeting tomorrow.  A visit with the Irish Bible Institute on Thursday.  Church Sunday.  A Mamma Mia sing-along Monday.  And plenty in between.

Oh, and I had my very own in-flight entertainment.  It's the small things that make trans-atlantic flight awesome.

Just a little road trip... shotgun!

I bought a journal at an artisan market when I was living in Santiago, Chile.  It was beautiful.  Handmade.  Leather.  And big.  Four hundred pages.  I know because I numbered them, for curiosity's sake.  It took me 4 and 1/2 years to fill up the first two hundred pages.  Only 9 months to finish the rest.

I spent about an hour flipping back.   Re-living, re-feeling, drawing a map of this journey from Then to Now.  So much time.  So much life.  So much change.  Being stuck in Then for so long, not knowing where to go next, seeing no way out, I could never have imagined the road that led to Now.  Looking back, I was able to see how far He's brought me.  How completely He's transformed me.  What a journey!

He is so patient, so diligent, so careful.  He has refined me in all this time since Then.  The time has been, at moments, painful.  The refining has been gentle, slow, full of purpose.  I am still wrestling with questions and doubts about my own ability.  But my hope is forever in Him.  My peace rests in His promises.  My proof is found in the journey to Now, in the great distance He has brought me.  This journey is forging a testimony that didn't exist back Then.

Where will this lead?  Where will He take my heart next?  I know I can't stay here... in Now.  Besides, I am excited about what lies on the road to Tomorrow.  Challenge.  Opportunity.  More time.  More refining.  The journey continues.  And my Creator walks beside me.

Snow happy, snow fun!

Winter finally came!  It was cold and rainy when we left for church yesterday morning.  As we were leaving church, the rain became big snowflakes.  And by the time we got home from lunch, the ground was completely hidden.  It snowed big and long.  About 4 inches total.  Not too shabby for Texas.

I'm not sure who loves snow more... me or Dakota.  We had a blast obliterating the winter wonderland scene in the backyard.  Now it's a white, slushy mess, but "snow" worth it!

And p.s. - thanks for bearing with me as I play around with my new camera (!) and learn how to make awesome videos with corny soundtracks.  Can't help it.

You're invited!

I love a good party.  Birthday parties are the best.  Especially my birthday party.  But any party will do, really.  As long as there's cake.  Or peanut butter pie.  The worst, though, is having a party that no one comes to.  I tried to throw myself a party today.  A pity party.  No one came.  Then it hit me... pity parties would be so much more awesome if a few other people will show up.  Consider this your invitation.

Let me start at the beginning.  Rob got Jes a Kinect for Christmas, along with a really groovy dancing game.  It plays a song.  Breaks down the moves.  Has you feeling like a pro in no time.  I'm sure you've seen the commercials.  I caught on pretty fast the first time I played.  I got 4 stars!  Then Jes pointed out that I looked like I was doing a working out instead of dancing.  What can I say, we can't change what we are.

Since I've obviously mastered the dancing game (one could even go as far as calling me a hot dance biscuit), I played a new game today yesterday.  A sports game.  Track and field, to be exact.  I was running hurdles when the accident happened.  I threw my arms back to jump a hurdle when--OWWWWWWW!--I jammed my finger into the arm of the couch.  Don't ask me how it happened, all I know is that one second I was in first place and in the next I was crumpled on the floor in pain.  My sisters didn't care one single bit.  They laughed at my pain.  They said I was being dramatic (Dramatic?  Me?).  As I was wallowing around in agony, trying to make the best of a bad situation by hosting a little party, they rolled their eyes and looked the other way.  They didn't even care when it started to swell.  I wasn't looking for some serious sympathy, just an acknowledgement of my intense, not-at-all exaggerated pain.  Nothing.

All that to say, there's plenty of room at the party if you wanna come.  No cake, but I can guarantee lots of dancing!  Luckily, dancing, unlike typing, doesn't hurt my poor-little-jammed-finger.