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. 

A New Year's revelation.

What if we could know exactly what this year holds for us?  Would anything change?  What if we believed Jesus when he warns, "I'm sending you out like sheep among wolves.  You'll be persecuted, mocked, hated, and devoured.  But here's your chance, bear witness to my name!  Endure and you'll be saved!"?  Would it still be worth it?  What if we believed God when he says, "I know the plans I have for you.  A future and a hope.  Look for me with all your heart.  I will be found by you!"?  Would that be enough to make a difference?  Imagine...

Total abandon of self.  Freedom in trust.  Boldness through faith.  Courage to witness.  Wisdom from the Spirit.  Joy in persecution.  Sold out.  Poured out.  Crying out.

Finding rest in His promises.  Alive with the Message.  Breathing the air of Truth.  Feasting on the Word.  Quenched by Living Water.  Overwhelmed by Love.  Overflowing with compassion.

A strong will.  A unified spirit.  A barbaric heart.  Facing sorrow.  Embracing pain.  Challenging death.  Unafraid.  Unashamed.  Unshaken.

Refined by fire.  Cleansed with blood.  Redeemed.  Renewed.  Reborn.

A new Creation.

A vulnerable need. A bold prayer.

There is only one thing harder than being patient.  Being vulnerable.  Well, that and being willing to fail.  I'm learning that these are the top three job requirements for missionaries.  Nobody told me that two years ago when I gave my heart over to this vision.  Now I know.  Three qualifications I don't have.  I'm not cut out for this job.

Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness.  And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.   -James 1:2-4 

These past two years have been an intense lesson in the purpose of waiting.  Waiting produces growth that is watered by time.  Nurtured by the Spirit.  Pruned by the Word.  Waiting produces a steadfast faith.  Perfect and complete.  And in all this waiting, my soul finds purpose.  Fulfillment.  Passion.  Courage.  Hope.  Confidence.  Rest.  Life.  Joy.  Reckless abandon to the will of my Creator.

Continue steadfastly in prayer, being watchful in it with thanksgiving.  At the same time pray also for us, that God may open to us a door for the word, to declare the mystery of Christ.   -Colossians 4:2-4

It's time for me to be something more than patient.  It's time to be vulnerable.  Time to express my need.  Time to leap with faith.

Currently, I have 30% of my monthly support.  I lack $2,500 a month.  I am asking for 50 pledges of $50 a month, $600 a year, for 3 years.  I am asking for individuals, small groups, and churches to partner with me in this vision for Dublin.  Share in this journey.  Join this work.  Your support provides a door for the word, that the mystery of Christ may be declared in Ireland!  

Let your reasonableness be known to everyone.  The Lord is at hand; do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.  And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.   -Philippians 5:4-7

Jevovah Jireh.  Our God the Provider.  Your dreams are greater than our own.  You are faithful and generous in your provision.  I wait with excited anticipation.  I wait with faith-filled expectation.  You are at hand!  I ask all these things believing they have already been accomplished, in accordance with your will.  Amen.

Thank you for joining me in this prayer!  If you would like to share in this vision financially, I ask that you respond by January 31.  Hope your holiday season has been full of joy.  Happy New Year!

Counting sheep never works.

I can't sleep.  Dakota is snoring and twitching.  She must be chasing rabbits in a field of dreams (get it... field of dreams?).  Apparently she hasn't caught any yet.  Though Dakota is being quite obnoxious, I can't blame my sleepless-late-night-woes on her.  Wish I could.  Sometimes my mind gets stuck on things.  Then it refuses to do anything else... like sleep.  Tonight it's a song.  Playing over.  And over.  And over.  There's only one thing I can do.  Let it play itself out.  Listen for yourself or just keep reading.

The lyrics:
I can't find the words to pray.  I'm a little down today.  Can you help me?  Can you hold me?  I feel a million miles away, and I don't know what to say.  Can you hear me, anyway?

Lord move in a way that I've never seen before.  'Cuz there's a mountain in the way, and a lock on the door.  I'm drifting away, waves are crashing on the shore.  So Lord move, or move me.

I've looked everywhere to find a simple peace of mind.  I can't find nothing on my own.  So I gotta leave myself behind, take up this cross of mine, give away everything I hold on to.

Lord I know, the only way is through this.  Lord I know, I need you to help me do this.

Lord move in a way that I've never seen before.  'Cuz there's a mountain in the way, and a lock on the door.  I'm drifting away, waves are crashing on the shore.  So Lord move, or move me.

Mountains I can't climb.  Doors I can't open.  The way to Dublin seems impossible.  Lord, move.  Or move me.

Just your average rhino.

I just finished an awesome book.  The Barbarian Way, by Erwin Raphael McManus.  I don't typically like non-fiction.  In fact, I usually get bored around page 5 and call it quits.  Not this time.  I'll admit it took me a while, but I read every page.  Erwin said lots of things that resonated deeply, but my favorite part came 5 pages from the end.  Let me paraphrase.

Rhinoceroses can run 30 miles per hour!  Erwin points out that squirrels run up to 26 mph.  I'll add that the average male rhino weighs 4,500 pounds (my VW Beetle only weighs 3,656 pounds.  I looked it up).  The average squirrel weighs less than 2 pounds.  Fascinating, right?  One problem.  Rhinos have terrible eyesight.  They can only see 30 feet in front of them.  Erwin puts it this way:

"Can you imagine something that large plowing ahead at 30 mph with no idea what's at 31 feet?  You would think that they would be far too timid to pick up full steam, that their inability to see far enough ahead would paralyze them to immobility. But with that horn pointing the way, rhinos run forward full steam ahead with no apprehension..."

Those 3 sentences hit me like a ton of bricks (or should I say, "like a speeding rhino"?)  The dust settled.  The image sunk in.  One thought was left standing.  I'm a rhino.  My eyesight is terrible.  I have no idea what the future holds.  But it's time to start running.  Full-speed ahead.  With the horn of Truth pointing the way.  With the weight of Almighty God behind me.  A big, fat, unstoppable force for His Kingdom!

I'm preparing to send out new support letters this week.  I'm looking for 50 pledges of $50 a month.  Small potatoes from the Great Provider.  Join me in prayer as I plow forward.  Bad eyesight.  Full steam.  No apprehension.

Dear God. Amen.

I tried to pray about Ireland today.  Let me rephrase.  I pray for Ireland without ceasing.  In the back of my mind.  In the deep of my heart.  Today I tried to bring it all to the front.  To the surface.  Wrap it up in words and send it heavenward, officially.  But my heart had no words.  What to pray?  For another date?  For another sign?  For another dose of patience?  My heart was screaming one thought, How much longer?!?!?!?!  So I prayed for silence.  I prayed for the peace of God to drown out the scream.  And then I searched my heart.  This is what I found.

Complete adoration for Him.  Thankfulness for the vision before me.  Frustration with this season of waiting.  Anticipation of moving forward.  Fear that the moving will never happen.  Peace that He is in control.  Longing to go.  Guilt that I'm not doing enough.  Pressure to do more.  Sadness to leave my home.  My family.  My friends.  Excitement for impending adventure. 

Encouragement in His Word.  Affirmation through the actions of His faithful believers.  Comfort in His promises.  Assurance in His confirmation.  Fulfillment in His Spirit.  Bewilderment that He would choose me.  Ashamed by my inadequacy.  Grateful that His grace makes up the difference.  Desire to know His heart.  Hear His voice.  See His hand.  Allegiance to His Kingdom.  Willingness to do whatever it takes.  Doubt that I'll succeed.  Relief that my success isn't the point.   

Uncertainty.  Hesitation.  Hope.  Confidence.  Expectation.  Eagerness.  Restlessness.  Impatience.  A million conflicting emotions.  Drowned out by the heart of God.  Be still.  Know.  I am. 

Bad things happen to the best of us.

November 23 was my birthday!  I turned 4.  Do I look older?  I think I look older.  And wiser.  And really annoyed that Jo made me pose with this stupid hat on my head.  I tried not to cooperate.  But it can be hard to take a bad picture with a face like this.  Jo is really lucky.  Enough about my good looks, I've got better stories to tell.

Remember that scorpion fiasco I told you about here?  I didn't think things could get much worse.  They can.  Last Tuesday, on my birthday of all days, Jo and Jes took me on a drive.  I was so excited!  We drove a long time.  Somewhere new.  Jo got lost, I guess, she kept having to turn around.  I could hardly control myself.  Where are we going?!?!?!?!  I got so overwhelmed at one point, that I accidently jumped on Jes and scratched her neck.  Sorry Jes, I really didn't mean to do that.  Anyway, if I'd have known where I was going and what was going to happen there, I wouldn't have been so happy.

We pulled up a long gravel drive.  The sign on the road said "Doggie Kamp".  (I thought it was kind of stupid that they spelled "camp" with a "K", but whatever.)  All that really mattered was that I was coming here to play!  There was a huge field with lots of dogs.  I started going crazy.  Jo started yelling.  She does that sometimes.  Finally, I was out of the car and walking up to the gate.  There was a big yard with lots more dogs.  Too many dogs for one yard.  Before I knew what was happening, an old lady had taken me from Jo and shoved me into the yard.  Jo gave her something and she left to make a copy.  Too-Many-Dogs came up to me at once.  I had no where to go.  Jo couldn't come in.  I couldn't get out.  Jo looked worried.  But then I remembered I was big.  I broke away from Too-Many-Dogs and started to sniff around the yard.  I came back up to the fence and gave Jo a final "goodbye, I'll be fine, have a good Thanksgiving" glance to let her know that she didn't need to look so worried.  She left.  I was wrong.  She was right to worry.

Sometime in the four days I was at Doggie Kamp, I think it may have been near the last day, I got bit!  I'm not really sure what happened.  Probably I was playing like usual.  But it's hard to play with Too-Many-Dogs.  Sometimes things get out of control.  Sometimes good dogs get bit.  That's what happened to me. Right on the butt.  

Jo was not very happy with the old lady when she came to pick me up.  We left in a hurry.  I was tired and sore and limping a bit, but mostly I was just happy to be going home.  Over the next few days, my bite didn't get any better.  So this morning, Jo took me to the vet.  We waited for over 2 hours until it was our turn.  They said my bite was really deep.  They said it would need a staple.  Jo said she should probably wait outside.  She's such a wimp.  I'll admit, I was a little nervous myself.

It wasn't so bad.  I got three staples.  The worst part is that they shaved a funny looking circle on my butt.  Now I feel stupid.  At least there's a good chance I'll end up with a really gnarly scar.  That would make me older, wiser, braver... and a whole lot cooler!