Day 4 - A *Quiet* Day at Home

Dash and JackJack coughed all night last night, and I offered to keep them home today rather than dragging them on the train and sitting in the Embassy for hours.  It was a good decision.  Mr. Incredible and Elasti-girl said the whole thing took much longer than expected, but at the end of it all, Baby G was pronounced an American citizen.  Elasti-girl asked the woman who assisted them if Baby G is also a British citizen, but she didn't seem completely sure.  So, who knows?

The big boys spent the better part of the day on the couch playing computer games.  You'd think I could figure out how to build a bridge, but apparently now.  Mine caved in every single time.  How embarrassing.  We also got outside for a bit - I was hanging laundry and they were having a Nerf war.  JackJack showed off his two-wheeler skills and we baked chocolate chip cookies.  So, along with some power cleaning,  it was a very productive day.

I think I'll be going to bed early.  :)

 www.coolmath-games.com is ALOT of fun!

Dash waiting for the perfect shot.  

JackJack shooting from the 2nd floor window.

Day 3 - Day Trip

Tomorrow is the big trip to the American Embassy in London to register Baby G's birth.  In preparation for that, Elasti-girl, Baby G and I took the bus into Oxford today.  Baby G had to have passport photos taken, so we made a day of it.  Any excuse to get back to Oxford works for me.

Here's the day in photos!

First, a bath for Baby G.

Next, a bus ride to Oxford.  It amazes me that roads not really wide enough for two cars will somehow accommodate two buses.  Just when I am convinced a collision is inevitable, the moment is over and the buses have somehow magically passed one another without incident.

A walk around the downtown area, with memories of having seen these amazing structures last year with Flyboy.  Missing you, honey...

Next stop, passport photos.  The nice ladies laid Baby G on a white backdrop.  One tried to keep him looking straight ahead while the other stood on a crate shooting time after time until she finally got the shot she was looking for.  Baby G was cooperative but curious, laying still but looking in all directions at the same time.  After about 25 tries, success!

A lunch break at Pieminister in the Covered Market..  My yummy bean pie was served over mashed potatoes with gravy.  Delish!

We walked some more, stopped in a few shops, and landed here at the Natural History Museum.  The structure was as amazing as the exhibits (in my opinion).

Tomorrow, London!  We're leaving at 0-dark-30 to catch the bus.  The appointment at the Embassy is at 9:30.  We take the bus in, and then will walk about a mile to our destination.  I, for one, am hitting the hay early tonight.  

Day 2: Rugby and St. Ebbs

Daytime Savings Time began here in England today, so I got to lose an hour TWICE this year, on top of the five I left in the USA yesterday.  I slept like a log last night and woke up today ready to roll.

Today started with Rugby practice (or *training* as they call it here).  Jack-Jack is in a tag rugby league, which like touch football, is non-contact.  Except for all the little boys who, while waiting for their turn during drills were wrestling one another to the ground.   

 Hydrating.

Getting equipped with tags. 

Dash watching brother train.

Playing catch with Dad.

"Puppies in a box."  This is what my boss calls middle school boys, but it is particularly true of 6 year old boys. 

Clowning around.

Later in the day we (Mr. Incredible, Dash and I) went to church in Oxford.  If Flyboy and I could find jobs in Oxford, I could totally live there.  I think it is an amazing city full of history, education and beauty.  St. Ebbes Church was vibrant and alive and...packed. There are three Sunday services and we happened to attend the one weekend service where five students and one young adult were confirmed.  We heard a sermon by the Bishop of Oxford that was inspiring and introduced me to a whole new side of the Church of England.  Mr. Incredible explained that the Church of England is a very broad organization with many different arms that go in many different directions.  I was certainly blessed.  I liked this C.S. Lewis quote: 

 I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen:

not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else.

And now, on to the star of the show.  I have referred to my daughter and her family in this blog (and my previous one) for years as "The Incredibles".  There are amazing likenesses between each family member and their caricatures.  But now that miracle baby boy has shown up on the scene, I find myself in a prickly situation.  The only other family member in the movie is a girl (Violet) and while Elasti-girl says it's okay to call our boy Violet (because he may well feel invisible with two older brothers), it just doesn't feel quite right.  So what to do?  Ideas?  For the meantime, I will refer to him as Baby G.

And here he is!  Having been on the go today I was not able to get any shots of him. However, a friend of Elasti-girl's shot these last week.  Enjoy! 

 

Here!

Outside a little nap (see photo below), I have been awake for a very long time.  My plane left O'Hare last night at 10:30pm and arrived in London at 11:30am England time (which was 6:30am CST).  I was greeted by my two favorite six year olds (and their parents) and met our new grandson Flynn.  After lunch and errands, we finally got back to the house about 3:30 in the afternoon.

Note to self: when traveling across the ocean, one might think that leg room is the most important consideration when choosing a seat.  During the daytime, this may very well be true, but on an overnight flight, being able to lean one's head against the window is much preferable, lending to much needed sleep.  I can say this with conviction, having observed the girl next to me sleeping while my head was bobbing, awakening me every five minutes.  I will remember this next time.

After 36 hours without much sleep to speak of, I'm not entirely cogent and cannot be held responsible for rambling.  So instead of carrying on, I'll get to the stuff you want to see anyway - PICTURES!

But before I do, I would just like to comment that driving through the English countryside sort of felt like coming home.  Maybe it's all that English blood that courses through my veins.  There was just one thing conspicuously missing - Flyboy.  I miss him already.

 Gigi and Flynn taking a snooze.

 Carter wasted no time constructing his lego dinosaur.  He IS a clever boy.

Way to help with supper, Elijah!  Washing skewers for grilled kebobs.  He was so proud.

Soul Connect

After Christmas and all of the accompanying festivities, I've been slow to get back on the blogging horse.  It's not because I've lost momentum in regards to the series I'm working through, because I'm thinking lots of thoughts and being refreshed in my spirit as I ponder.  Matters of the soul are rather difficult to wrap one's mind around, much less one's pen.  I don't think I've ever given this much thought to the human soul.  Ever.  I've never attempted, in my own head, to make a differentiation between the heart and the soul, but I figured since Jesus did, maybe I should try to figure out what He meant.

Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.  ---Mark 12:30


How does one go about defining the human soul?  I have thought about it in terms of the connecting point between God and man.  When we talk about inviting Jesus "into your heart", where exactly does He go?  How does the Holy Spirit divide Himself between millions of believers, inhabiting each and every one of them?  I've come to think that the soul is the part of me most made in the image of God.  It is where He speaks to me in the deepest place of who I am.  It is the part of me that cries out to Him.  The writers of the Psalms say over and over again, "praise the Lord, oh my soul."  That is where praise begins.

When our children were 5, 7, and 9, we were young in ministry, growing up in our first church out of seminary.  One of the things we did regularly was visit people in the nursing home up the street from the parsonage. These visits included a monthly birthday party, where all the residents would gather in the dining room for cake, ice cream, songs, games, and balloons in honor of those who were born in whatever month it happened to be.  When the party was over, we'd help the staff roll the residents back to their rooms and clean up the dining room.  On this particular day, Bamm-Bamm, our five year old, reached for this sweet little old lady's wheelchair handles and began to slowly pull her backwards, away from the table.  She shouted at him, "GET YOUR &#&@%* HANDS OFF OF MY CHAIR!!!"  His hands flew up and away as if he'd just touched a hot stove, unable to comprehend how a 90 year old woman could have just cussed him out.  I have often prayed that if who I really am underneath is what comes out when I don't remember who I am anymore, then please, God, have mercy.  Help me to make sure who I really am is a nice person and not someone who has spent a lifetime trying to convince other people I'm a nice person all the while ignoring the condition of my soul.

I'm rethinking that whole premise.

Just who am I anyway?  Why am I so afraid that the "real" me might be someone I really would rather not own up to?

Who am I?  I am God's beloved child, redeemed by His very own blood, bought back at a very high price and promised an inheritance beyond my wildest imaginations.  I am created in the image of the One True God.  I have been given victory over sin and death.  I have, at my very core, a connecting point with the Sovereign God, the Creator of the universe.  Who am I, that I should be so regarded by this amazing God?  Who am I, that He should equip me with a soul connection to His fullness?

In the depths of my soul, I have sensed a restlessness for a good long time.  I have ridden the roller coaster all over the park, one minute blaming myself for not being spiritual enough and the next frustrated because I can't quite figure out the secret mystery code for how to live this illusive life of faith.  With the help of Sue Monk Kidd (author of "The Secret Life of Bees" and "Where the Heart Waits", to name a few), I am realizing that the restlessness I feel is the real me, buried beneath the layers of pretending and trying to get it right, yearning to break free.  My soul - the part of me that connects with God - does not want to stay where it is.  Somehow innately knowing there is more to want, my soul wants more.

The question is, where to go from here?  Again, the Psalmists speak:

Wait for the LORD; be strong and take heart and wait for the LORD.  ---Psalm 27:14


It's not a matter of decoding the mystery or being spiritual enough.


LORD, I wait for you; you will answer, Lord my God.  ---Psalm 38:15


What?  I don't have to DO something?


Blessed are those who listen to me, watching daily at my doors, waiting at my doorway.  ---Proverbs 8:34


He is calling out to my soul, encouraging me to settle for nothing less than absolute authenticity.  Answers will come.  I'm willing to wait.

Calling Me

There have been times in the course of several classes I've taken when I was instructed to write my faith story.  The format is always the same - 1) what your life was before you knew Jesus; 2) how you came to know Jesus; 3) how your life changed after knowing Jesus.  I have always struggled with telling my story in this way because I have no recollection of a life before Jesus.  Some of my earliest memories revolve around church.  One in particular is when I turned three and *graduated* from the nursery to Sunday School.  I can remember standing in a line watching the door open and marching with the other children to our new class room. We were not babies anymore, we were big kids.  I can remember making a diorama out of a shoe box depicting the home of the widow where Elijah occupied the upper room (I Kings 17).  What I can't bring to mind is a single memory of life before Jesus.

This is not a bad thing in and of itself, outside of the obvious difficulty in articulating a faith story that requires a before picture. It is what we want for our own children: a life of always knowing God.  Beside the in-the-box-faith-story-dilemma, though, the lack of a before lends itself to taking for granted the reality of God in one's life, much in the same way we take our parents for granted.  They have always been there and love us no matter how stupid we are, and that is what we come to expect.  It's not until we reach early adulthood that we realize the sacrifices they made for us and that discipline really is one of the truest forms of love.  The same is true of God, and it is entirely too easy to fall into adolescent behavior, thinking that the world revolves around me and that He is here to do my bidding, not the other way around.

As I ponder the beginning of the new year, I am dreaming about what it could look like.  I am tired of taking God for granted.  I am tired of cliche faith that so easily becomes formulaic: quiet times plus obedience = discipleship.  I am hungry for the kind of everything love that is alive and authentic and vital and makes whatever might have been my before story seem completely irrelevant.

I want to love God with my whole heart, soul, mind and strength.

This is more than a mandate.  It is more than setting time aside for the spiritual disciplines.  It is about experiencing deeper relationship and walking hand in hand with Jesus, loving Him more intimately than ever before.  I think I have been guilty of focusing on the mechanics as the means to an end.   I am praying He will breathe new life into me and help me to see Him in new and refreshing ways.  His love is calling me.  I want to love Him with all that I am and articulate it in a way that those who are on the before side of the equation can hear His love calling them, too.

Soul Food - Part Two

It's Christmas-time.  And as I sit in my living room and look in any direction, I see reminders of the season.  A white three-piece nativity, given to me by my mother, flanked by a snow covered ceramic church and a fir tree, each with a little votive burning inside, softly illuminating them.  Like sentries guarding the baby Jesus, there are two white-lit evergreens, one at each end of the coffee table.  On the buffet a second nativity is displayed, this one carved of wood and including both shepherds and wise men.  Angels, one on each end, sing of the Messiah's birth.  And finally, on the end table, a beautiful blue and white ceramic depicts the flight to Egypt.  Mary holds the baby Jesus, perched on a horse led by the protective Joseph.  Everywhere I look I see Jesus.

My iPod is my constant friend this season, playing the beautiful melodies and harmonies that envelop the amazing words that feed my soul with the wonder of Jesus, leaving the glory of heaven to become a human being who would one day take the punishment for the sin of the world.  I have listened over and over to the music of a local artist (Stephanie Seefeldt) who recently released a Christmas album which includes some of the most poignant lyrics imaginable.  I have been deeply moved by several a capella groups that have brought old words to life in breathtaking new ways.  In every sound that pours into my heart, I hear Jesus.

My soul is grateful for such rich nourishment.  My soul has been longing for such food.

Soul food connects the eternal part of our being with the eternal God Himself.  It is found in the simultaneous simplicity and magnificence of creation, it is found in beauty of music that stirs us to the core, and it is found in the message preserved through the centuries: the living Word of God.  I think one of the reasons the Bible is such satisfying soul food is because its authenticity touches us right where we are.  It introduces us to real people who have the same struggles and doubts as we do and doesn't sugar coat their failings.  When Zechariah was visited by the angel Gabriel and received the news that his wife Elizabeth would bear a son he said, "How can I be sure of this?  I am an old man and my wife is well along in years."  I love the response: "I am Gabriel.  I stand in the presence of GOD, and I have been sent to speak to you and tell you this news."  God sent an archangel and Zechariah still couldn't believe it.  Oh, how I see myself in Zechariah.  It's not enough that God has performed miracles in my life...from time to time, I still doubt.

When I find myself in such a place, I know my starved soul is longing for the touch, a visitation, a word, a connection point with the Almighty God. And when I simply stop running long enough to invite Him to speak and be quiet long enough to listen, He never disappoints.