J4CK13 C4R

28 hours in a day?

2008-05-03T20:24:00.002-04:00

All of a sudden, the days seem longer. I don't know what to do with all this time I have acquired. I have had to fight the urge all week to produce, to measure every moment and pack it full. I will sheepishly admit that I've gone to bed early this week, not because I was tired, but because I didn't know what to DO with myself. I have had to talk myself into resting, to allow an evening to go by and be OK with having nothing to show for it. It is a new world for me...

Here are some of the things I've managed to find to occupy my time.

1. I've spent some time organizing shelves and drawers and closets that before I've peered into with dread and just shoved things into and shut the door quick, knowing I didn't have the luxury of time to do anything about the mess inside.

2. I've *thought* about reading for pleasure. I'm not quite ready to do this yet, but I'm happy to start thinking about books that I could read merely for the pleasure of reading them.

3. I watched a movie and went for a drive (for no reason) with my husband on a beautiful spring night.

4. I stayed at work late and still had time to relax and recharge for the next day.

And now, my greatest challenge will be to not fill my schedule back up. I lived in such better balance in Cairo--managing to balance friends and work and play SO much more effectively.

Balance is such a great and necessary thing to strive for and yet so difficult to achieve, isn't it?

Graduation!

2008-04-28T21:37:00.003-04:00

Here is an overview of my graduation day. Click through to our flickr account for comments and details!

Blind Grief

2008-04-12T08:11:00.003-04:00

Miscarriage invokes a blind kind of grief.
A grief that
Gropes in the darkness,
Trying to find something to hold on to.

When what you carried was

lost.

And what you thought was real

wasn't.

Joy dashed to pain
Hope flung far away
Peace longed for

Why would I even want to step into the same place
And knowingly put myself in a position to

risk

Joy dashed to pain
Hope flung far away
Peace longed for?

I don't.

Huh?!?

2008-04-10T21:19:00.007-04:00

I know, I know. This can be defined as nothing other than a RASH of blog posts from me. Three in one night is crazy. There really are so many stories to tell about my week long trip and I need to tell them soon or they'll expire.

I don't know what to say about this house, other than it has a freaking MOAT around it. I remember it being under construction when I was still living in Cairo (3 years ago now) and I thought it was going to be a place of business.

It's not. It's someone's freaking HOUSE.

Check out the front door:

What I will say is that I broke my general rule about not looking like a foreigner and hopping out of the car to take pictures along the road. I couldn't resist this one and I was more than willing to look like a full-fledged tourist to take a few shots of this beauty. I really, really wonder about who lives there.

Lingering Evidence

2008-04-10T20:39:00.006-04:00

In three days it will be a month since I left for my trip to Cairo.

I keep reminding myself that I *did* actually go to the land of affordable pedicures. Here's the evidence:

(Picture taken April 10, 2008)

Matter of fact, ladies, I got a pedicure, manicure, and had my face threaded (why the *heck* do I do that to myself...owwwww)--all for 50 Egyptian pounds or $10. I gave my friend Hannan a good wad of "baksheesh" (tip) since I felt like I was paying her nothing for a glorious and relaxing hour of pampering.

Meet Hannan. I heard her life story in short while she painted away.

(Taken March 21, 2008)

Since this pedicure is the last remaining physical evidence that I actually did go to Cairo, I'm kind of nostalgic about taking the polish off.

If you see me with red chipped toenails in July, you have my permission to pin me down and take off all the polish once and for all!

First Morning in Cairo

2008-03-27T20:58:00.010-04:00

Hany is the kind of person you want to have on your team. He is a wonderful, jovial guy with a heart of gold, and would give you the shirt off his back. I am proud to call him a friend of mine. He has been a faithful friend to me through some difficult times. His laugh comes quickly, and he will do anything to help.

He is also a well-connected individual who helped me out often when I was living in Cairo. Here he is (in sunglasses) with the jeweler who custom made our wedding bands. He also hooked me up with a loaner mobile phone during my week-long trip to Cairo and gave me the number a month ahead of time so I could give it out to people and hit the ground running.

He and his lovely wife, Rita, have two beautiful kids and they welcomed me into their home in Shobra my first night in Cairo. He works in telecommunications and got me right on his VOIP stateside line so I could call my honey and my parents to let them know I had arrived safe and sound.

Rita was sure the kids would wake me up in the morning, but in my jet lagged stupor, I managed to sleep through quite a "dowsha" (lots of noise!) and wake up at the crack of 11 a.m. After a lovely breakfast of pasterma (pastrami) and scrambled eggs and coffee, I went out to the balcony of their home and was greeted by this beautiful sight:

Ahhhh. Cairo at its springtime best. The beautiful Nile river and some welcome green spaces. Hany came out to tell me that President Mubarak often lands his helicopter in the large (open green space of ) garden so that he can visit injured Palestinians who are being treated in the nearby hospital.

The freshness of Spring was in the air....right along with all the Cairo smog. The view out to the right off their balcony was amusing. Check out all the satellites and the efficient parking!

Home, Sweet Home

2008-03-21T11:37:00.002-04:00

It has been a whirlwind trip to Cairo—6 days to be exact, squeezed into one measly week of Spring Break. In celebration of the near completion of my master's studies, I happily returned to my beloved Cairo, the place I called home for six years of my life. A token day for every year of my life I spent in that amazing place.

As soon as I stepped into the airport in Cairo, I had that old familiar and comfortable feeling—like stepping back into a pair of the most comfortable shoes you've ever worn--the guys in their orange and blue jump suits sweeping away, the putrid smoke of Cleopatra cigarettes dangling out of everyone's mouths, the worn red carpet as I walk down the ramp where tons of Egyptian men are grouped holding signs and beckoning their guests toward them. I know the routine and walk directly to the bank to buy my visa. Then I head to Passport Control, feeling the thrill of being home again welling up in me. I already hear the foreigners in line behind me complaining about being overcharged for their visas even though the prices are clearly posted. Oh boy. Some things never change.

I easily slip right back in to that purposeful gaze that looks through and past everyone in my way, averting eye contact by staring at the official's shoulder as I answer his questions and quickly make my way through passport control. So far, so good. Both suitcases pop up on the conveyor belt quickly and I lug them onto my cart and head for the door. Hany is waiting for me, not surprisingly talking on his cell phone, and I give him a quick wave before focusing on maneuvering my cart out into the dark night toward him.

He takes my passport and heads to the duty-free shop to buy alcohol and chocolate and then we start to board the shuttle to take us to his car. Two guys in those gorgeous orange and blue jump suits appear out of nowhere and fight to load my luggage into the shuttle, wanting a bit of "baksheesh" for their efforts. I haven't changed any money yet, so I let Hany deal with them and then we're off into the yellowish dusty night streets of Cairo with horns honking and cars weaving back and forth. Traffic moves in a weaving mass of vehicles, creating space and moving freely in and out of lanes at various speeds. Ahhhhh. It feels so good to be home!

Itinerary In Hand

2008-02-01T23:30:00.001-05:00

Oh yeah. I'm goin' to Cairo! The week after I present my Action Research paper, I'm off to reconnect with a place and people who are near and dear to my heart. It is a well-earned graduation gift to myself. It's been too long since I've been connected to that other side of who I am.

I'll be heading over to Om idunnya from March 13-March 21 during my Spring break. Most of my friends are gone during the summer, or I would visit when I had more time to spare. It will be hard to have only 6 full days to spend there with all that I'll want to do and all of the people I'll want to see--but 6 days is better than nothing at all!

Since I have the ticket in hand (and the money out of my bank account :( ), and four offers of friends who I can stay with, I am starting to allow myself to anticipate and open parts of my heart that have been closed off. It feels great to blow the dust off these friendships and anticipate reconnecting with my Cairo friends.

Incidentally, I've been trying to figure out where I stored all my "butt covers*" and long sleeve shirts since my dear husband won't be coming along with me to ward off competing males.

*long shirts covering the buttocks so men are less tempted to grab my butt--why do they do that, by the way??

The End Is In Sight

2008-02-01T23:04:00.000-05:00

Yup, that's how I feel these days. Papers floating everywhere, buried in data and analysis and writing that needs to be finished yesterday. I get through a long day at school only to have some dinner before re-motivating myself to dig back in and be productive. Sometimes I am able to crank out a few more paragraphs, other times I just have to put the computer down and grab a magazine (and feel guilty while I'm reading thinking about how much more I have to do and should be doing at the moment).

But now there is a light at the end of the tunnel. Eight years working on this dual masters degree and I'm weeks away from being finished. I can't imagine what it will feel like. I present my action research on March 8th and graduate from Eastern Mennonite University on April 27th.

What will it be like to come home from work and have the luxury of doing light work around the house, flip through a magazine (guilt free), or spend an evening watching a movie with my husband? What about when my weekends are back and I can make decisions about how I want to spend them? What will it feel like to not be constantly managing my work load and making trips to Pennsylvania for classes and presentations? Wow, I can't wait.

Oh, and by the way, I already have a tentative date picked out for my graduation party -- put May 10th on your calendars, people!

Change

2007-12-09T11:45:00.000-05:00

I've been writing this post in my mind for the past several weeks--planning how and when I would tell the world that I was pregnant. But those words have crumbled away and now the reality ahead of me looks quite different than it did a week ago.

A week ago I happily unpacked two articles of clothing I bought online at a huge discount because they were out of season--I was so proud of myself. My first two pieces of maternity clothing bought with hope and expectation. I was looking forward to wearing them this summer when I was 7 and 8 months pregnant.

A week ago I happily told a few close co-worker friends that I'd be seeing my baby's heartbeat that afternoon at the ultrasound appointment.

A week ago I was deciding when to announce my pregnancy to the teachers at school and thinking about how I would adjust to staying at home with a new baby at the start of next school year.

A week ago I was excited about all the good friends around me who are pregnant and how good it was to be WITH them in this whole new process of wonder.

A week ago I was following my baby's growth each day in a daily pregnancy journal and wondering if I was eating the best possible things for my baby's growth and was carefully avoiding anything that might harm my baby.

So much has changed in a week. When we walked in to the lab for the appointment, we were excited and delighted at the chance to see our little one. We left in shock trying to adjust to the new reality that the pregnancy was not viable, and that which we thought was there all along, had stopped growing long before we knew.

Now begins the processing of taking all the little things we had begun to collect and move them into storage--the baby seat, the breast pump, all the little board books, the journal, the info from the midwife, the prenatal vitamins. I just want all of it to be out of sight for awhile.

I started a private blog for my baby--it didn't have many entries, but in each of the entries I wrote, I included things like, "I found out today that you are real and here," and "You are indeed for real and you're growing and changing inside of me". My body was continually changing and I was experiencing early pregnancy symptoms. As a result of the irony of what I was thinking and feeling versus what was actually happening--well, let's just say that my innocence is gone.

I've erased several endings which seemed to tie my thoughts up a little too neatly. Actually, they aren't neat at all. They're ragged and ugly and angsty and yet somewhere down there I know there is a line to hope. I just don't know how to get there and I'm actually not wanting to get there quite yet.

The Laptop Sessions

2007-10-05T10:00:00.000-04:00

When my dear friend Terri was home in Milwaukee this summer from Casablanca, Morocco, we were able to get together with she and her two college age daughters, Vanessa (on the left) and Stephanie (on the right) and ask the three of them to sing together. And sing they did, in all their beauty!

P3T3 pushed record and we captured some moments (see the neet new player over there on the right of my blog! or click here to download a zip of the MP3s) which will have to tide me over for a while until I can see them again. Actually getting the whole family together again - on the same continent - is getting harder and harder.

These are precious jewels. Enjoy them.

And here's to you, Ter, Steph and Nessa with all kinds of love in my heart. Thanks for this precious gift!

The Benediction

2007-09-17T20:38:00.000-04:00

This one's for you, Mike Stavlund!
The benediction from our church service yesterday:

Lord Jesus
May we endeavor to
be your hands
be your feet
be your eyes.

Lord, increase our capacity to look with great compassion on the world.
On our neighbors,
on our co-workers,
on the guy in the car next to us,
on the woman at the toll booth,
on our spouse or significant other,
on our children,
on the beautiful people who make our burritos and probably have 3 jobs...

May we look for ways to do good and to be a blessing
to everyone we come in contact with in the course of our daily lives.
Amen.

Summer

2007-09-17T20:05:00.000-04:00

Wow. Could it possibly have been 3 months since I posted last? Where did the summer go, I'd like to know?

I'm a teacher, right? I have all the time in the world during the summer. I've got one of those great jobs where we have "off" for a 3 full months, all the holidays, and I go to school late and get out early and even get snow days (ok, the snow days are REALLY great).

I also get to pay for my own continuing education and do all that training when I'm not at my job. So when in actuality I leave school at 6 pm, then I get to go home and study and write papers and read scholarly articles until I'm too exhausted to do any more and my brain is fried and I go to bed and get up at 6:30 a.m. to do it all over again.

I do love teaching, and I'm learning to love my new job as a Reading Resource teacher, but I can't express how happy I'll be to have my master's degree in hand and have some time to choose what I would like to do after school rather than having my schedule all laid out for me.

Which brings me back to what I was doing this summer. More course work. A couple classes, a trip to Milwaukee to visit my dear friend Terri who lives in Morocco (stay tuned for a sampling of some of the songs we recorded in a quick summer recording session!) and Pete's family, a visit from my nephew Zach and his parents Mark and Julie, a quick camping trip, and a weekend at the boathouse in Solomon's island.

It was a good summer, but it just flew by. I did find moments to rest and play between blocks of work, but it turned out to be a little more work than I had hoped for. Too bad I have only one appendix to burst. I'd kinda like having to STOP life and slow down a bit. When will that ever happen?

Appendicitis = Much Needed Life Selah

2007-06-10T12:45:00.000-04:00

Though I wouldn't necessarily recommend it, there is something about being pushed off the treadmill of life and laid flat on my back, helpless, that has been so healthy for me. At this time of year, school is quite stressful (end of year grades, preparations for next year, packing up and closing down a classroom for the summer), never mind the assignments for my grad classes that I'm trying to finish up before summer classes start, in addition to keeping up with life in general. And yet all of the things that were so important to me last Sunday as I thought about all I had to do and how "on purpose" I would have to be with my time in the coming weeks to get it all done--suddenly became less important when the dull ache and heaviness in my abdomen wouldn't go away.

I spent Monday all day in the ER, working on report cards, carefully maneuvering around the IV in my arm, trying to find a comfortable position to write. I was still trying to eek out every bit of time "off" I had to get done what needed to get done. Out of the two doctors, radiologist, and surgeon who saw me, no one would give me a completely straight answer about what was wrong with me. I'm not one to worry about something until it's time to worry about it, but they had mentioned all sorts of scary reproductive system problems that could be contributing to my pain, and that was a nagging fear in the back of my mind all day. But I tried to push it away.

Once my knight in shining armor arrived, he drove me to Reston hospital where I was admitted and settled into a room to wait to talk with the surgeon. I pounded out some quick sub plans for the next day and was relieved when a teacher friend of mine offered to write the plans for the next three days of the week. I had barely finished my plans when the surgeon came in and laid out the options, saying I was lucky she was still at the hospital. I had some of the criteria for appendicitis, but she couldn't conclusively tell from the CT scan if indeed that's what it was. This felt like a huge burden on us to decide whether or not to go ahead with surgery, as we didn't want to do anything unnecessary. I was even given the option to wait until the next morning and see if the discomfort would just go away. After having a pow-wow with our nurse mothers, we felt it was best to not wait until morning to have the surgery. And it's a good thing we didn't. The next day when the surgeon checked in with me, she told me that another day and my appendix would have ruptured...

When we committed to the surgery and they started prepping me, I had a most acute sense of helplessness, and though I'm sure I was being melodramatic, I started thinking, "Oh my gosh. I don't want to die. I just got married, and life is so GOOD right now. God please don't let me die. I'll give all of my life back to you again and again if you don't let me die." In another part of my mind I laughed at myself and my weak little plea bargains with God.

Then the tears came. I felt silly--if anything it was probably just minor surgery, right? But it was surgery, and I was going to let someone cut me open and then maybe tell me something I didn't want to hear. I didn't know what was on the other side--and yet I did want to know.

Helpless. Complete dependence on the surgeon and the anesthetist. Extreme gratefulness when the anesthetist said within ear shot that I was a "low risk" healthy woman. I wonder if he knew how badly I needed to hear that...and then all went white blank for awhile, til I woke up with nasty tubes in my throat and felt the pain in my body. The best part was to hear Pete's voice telling me that everything was alright, that it WAS appendicitis and no more than that. Relief flooded through my body.

Thus has begun the process of healing and forced dependence that has been so good for me. Pete stayed with me the first night, giving me cold water and ice chips through the night, going for nurses when I needed anything at all, stroking my hair and just letting me know he was there. Dee and the boys visited me at the hospital the next morning. It was so good to see familiar faces. I left on Tuesday night, longing for an uninterrupted night of sleep. Our vegetarian friend, Tina brought an amazing dinner for us, not forgetting one blessed little detail, even including MEATballs. My mom made the 2 1/2 hour drive from Pennsylvania for a half day visit before she left for vacation. Dee came back on Friday to hang out a bit and help me out around the house. Friends have stopped by to visit, or called to check up on me. It has been SO GOOD to just STOP and think and refocus and rest.

Selah--"stop and listen"

What a beautiful thing an appendectomy has been for me, in a weird sort of way.

Mr. President

2007-02-27T20:25:00.000-05:00

This year I am teaching first grade at a school just 3 minutes down the road from where I live. I have an amazing class of 16 kids from all over--Honduras, Paraguay, Bangladesh, Philippines, El Salvador, Egypt, Thailand, Pakistan, India... and two are native english speakers from the United States. It is hard work to teach them how to read when most are balancing two languages and some come from illiterate families. But they are a unique bunch who are gifted in so many ways and I love to see what they will come up with next.

Two recent amazing stories:

One of my little girls, Isabel, is a brilliant author. The stories and illustrations she writes are beautiful and creative. She has even started to write bi-lingual stories in Spanish and English. Some of the other Spanish speaking kids noticed her books and asked her how she learned to write Spanish (I didn't teach her). "Oh I just listen to the sounds in the words in Spanish, and stretch the sounds just like I do to write in English. That's how I know how to write in both languages." It's so neat to see her awareness of her two worlds (Paraguay and the U.S.) finding a place in her stories.

A couple weeks ago we were discussing presidents Washington and Lincoln. Later that morning as I worked at a table with a small group of students, I noticed this same Isabel going around with a clip board and piece of paper, saying "Who do you vote for?" After I was finished, I went over to her and asked her what she was doing. "We just elected a class president!", "Hasib is our new class president" she informed me. Wow. All on their own. "And 2 vice presidents, 'cause there was a tie." The new class president (appropriately dressed in a suit that day) confidently looked at me and said, "OK, so I'm the class president. Now what?"

I turned the question back on them and asked, "OK guys, so now what?" An interesting discussion followed as we talked about the role of a president. In their words, here is what they came up with:

1. It's the president's job to save the world.
(When I asked them how he will do this, they suggested that he teach someone how to do something--like if a person can't swim, teach him/her to swim. They also suggested that he should do things to keep the Earth clean.)

2. The president writes and writes and writes.
("Writes what?" I asked. "He writes laws," they answered.)

3. The president has to make sure that people don't get hurt.

4. The president helps people to follow the rules.

Wow. What Incredible initiative!

Tongue in cheek, the next day I called on Hasib as "Mr. President," and almost laughed when I said it... but he looked directly at me and answered calmly and seriously, "Yes??". Nobody blinked -- it wasn't a game for them. They were completely serious about this.

They have already discussed among themselves the process for an orderly transfer of power...geez. These kids are amazing. I am impressed with what 6 and 7 year olds can come up with when given a safe environment and space to create.

My first married Valentine's Day

2007-02-14T19:58:00.000-05:00

On this year of firsts, my wonderful husband made a delicious Valentine's Day dinner for me. He's cooked for me before--it's what I love to request to celebrate special days. But I truly didn't expect how exquisite and carefully thought out this lovely meal would be--down to 'le menu. It brought me to tears. I imagined being treated like this only in my wildest, farthest out dreams (that I knew would not come true). I knew love and marriage would be much more practical. So that's why the tears rolled when he led me into the dining room to find this:

and this

and this

Pay special attention to the Pete-esque liners below each menu item. :)

I am savoring these memories. Every one of them.

Here's to my husband whom I love with all my heart--thank you honey. I'm so glad I found you.

Happy Valentine's Day.

Gotta Love Cairo

2007-01-21T16:14:00.000-05:00

Though I am slowly adjusting to my life here in the NOVA area, I think there will always be a part of me--no matter where I am--that longs for Cairo. Here are a few reasons why. First, the dust still hasn't come out of the clothes and books and computer I had in Egypt with me. Seriously.

Secondly, I swear my blood is still thin from the desert heat--I'm freezing even inside, wearing polar fleece under a blanket (but of course only when Pete the Exothermic Carnivore isn't around).

I didn't take these pictures, but a friend of mine still living in Cairo posted them to her blog. Just a year and a half ago, my day to day life was filled with images like this...MAN I miss that place...

Won Car and Driver (Cairo edition) top ten award for most fuel effective family vehicle in 2006. The most I ever saw on a bike is five, but I was never able to capture that picture!

All Cairo safety laws and regulations are being fully observed and adhered to in this picture.

The line between laziness and ingenuity is at times indiscernable...

(Ditto). Architectural flexibility--all civil regulations are likewise being observed in this picture.

Single File Homes

Flip flops are called "ship-ship" in Arabic--think of the sound they make as you're shuffling along.

"Maadi Canal School" --this school was just around the corner from where I lived in Maadi...I recognize this security guard who stood outside the gates of the school. Guess they don't realize how critical that missing "C" is!

I've seen so many butchered English translations like this one--it warmed my heart to see this sign. I could have had a full time job editing menus and signs all over Cairo.

And finally...legendary Arab hospitality, but maybe a little more than they bargained for...

My Grandma

2006-12-17T22:08:00.000-05:00

Family.
I've got a great one. Our trip to Pennsylvania this weekend for the yearly Denlinger gathering struck a chord deep within me. How good it is to be with people who have known you and loved you all your life. They've watched you grow through all the different phases of your life and they're still there. Watching, cheering, loving.

I have always appreciated this time to gather with my aunts and uncles and cousins and get caught up on their lives and see how much their kids have grown and changed, especially since many years I was half a world away in Egypt and was unable to attend this gathering. What a wonderful thing to take a mere 2 hour car ride and be able to hang out with some of the most wonderful people I know. We get together far less now than we did when I was growing up, but the history that we have together is something to be treasured and cherished.

My grandma, Ruth Hershey Denlinger, the matriarch of the family, was an amazing woman who tied us together in the first place. She loved having her family around her, and I remember many joyful holiday meals at her house. She was an amazing cook--I used to really believe she had some kind of grandma magic in her hands and as she cooked, whatever she touched turned delicious. Even toast bread.

She was a hard-working farmer's wife who in her late eighties was still out shoveling silage and helping out on the farm. She would let us kids climb into the silage cart and roll us along the corridor as she shoveled silage into the trough for the cows. I would stand beside her, entranced by the magic of watching her call the cows in from the field with a warbling, "Sooookeeyyyy, soooookeeeyyyyyy, sookey, sookey, sookey!" I loved staying overnight at her house. She would let me sleep in her bed with her and would tell me stories until I'd fall asleep. I still remember some of those stories.

Living in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, in the heart of Amish country, she served as a taxi-service for Amish in her later years of life and would take them places that were too far for their buggies to go. Amish will ride in cars, but do not drive or own cars. So they'd call up my grandma and ask her if she would take them to the doctor, or the grocery store, or wherever they needed to go. She had great relationships with many Amish families in the area. She kept a little notebook in her purse and would often page through to remind herself of the trips she needed to take. I would often ride along with her as she went on her "runs". That was a fascinating cultural experience for me.

My grandma lived a selfless life of service and loved extravagantly. Her faith was profound in its simplicity. She was a Mennonite, and wore a head covering, but never made a big deal about these external symbols of faith. Rather, she constantly modeled love and acceptance. In highschool we were given an assignment to write about a hero in our lives and then give the person the gift of what we wrote. My hero was my grandma.

She lived to be 92 years old. I was in Egypt when she died and was unable to come home for her memorial service. She had actually been slipping away from us for the last few years of her life, so the goodbye was mercifully gradual.

My grandma wrote this letter to her children and grandchildren, in her familiar scrawling handwriting, to be read along with her last will and testament. I will read it to my children and grandchildren and can only hope that I will grow in the wisdom, grace, beauty and simplicity she modeled.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To my children and grandchildren

I hope you will always be friends and visit one another even when you are older and live miles apart.

I pray that you will never let material things separate you. You each were born to us, and it would be such a marvelous gift if you could always treat one another with affection.

As you already know, not everyone is able to leave their children a big estate made up of lands and mortgages and bonds, but as your loving mother, I bequeath to you, my children, an estate worth infinitely more—one for which you will rise up and call me blessed.

I leave to you an honorable name and a good reputation. I have tried to leave the memory of a Godly life and a record of fair dealing. I have endeavored to teach you to have a profound respect for fact, a deep reverence for character, a thirst for knowledge and a willingness to work. If you have all this you will not need any money that may be willed to you. If you do not have this, no money left to you will do you much good.

I also hereby bequeath to you, my children, an appreciation for all the beautiful everyday things around you. The beauties of nature, the wonders of the stars and the gorgeous sunsets. Walk in the woods and see the beautiful wild flowers and birds. God has given us these things to enjoy, so take time to watch the sunsets and see the stars. Instead of worldly goods and valuable antiques, I leave to you a whole wide world of wonder. Learn to live in the present moment.

Read God’s word and pray. Live for Jesus every day. I thank God of every remembrance of you, your love and understanding. May the peace of God rule in your hearts. See you soon in heaven where we’ll never say goodbye.

Love,
Mother

2006-12-02T10:04:00.000-05:00

I really don't have the time to do this...but every now and then I get the thought that a morsel of something happening in my life might be blog-worthy--whatever THAT means. I step forward with much hesitance and a healthy dose of skepticism.

I refuse to blog

2005-10-01T16:00:00.000-04:00

My husband set this blog up for me, but for now I'm not giving in to the pressure.....