Who Am I?

What we term the holiday season—Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s—brings much joy, but can also usher in heartache we have managed to squelch the rest of the year. Instead of focusing on our blessings, perhaps depression settles in because of losses we have suffered.

This depression can very well be linked to how we view ourselves—our identity. The world, our environment, may look at us and say, “You are a teacher or a housewife, or a miner.” In other words, we are identified by our job or career.

There’s the aspect of relationship in identity—you are a spouse, or a parent or a child. Perhaps a friend or fiancé.

When something happens to change what we consider our identity, depression may well become part of our life. We lose a parent, a spouse, a child, a friend, or a job. Even our health can be an identifier.

We describe ourselves as unemployed, chronically ill, a widow/widower, divorcee, an orphan.

Our pastor gave such a great lesson on identity recently. He said, “Never base your identity on something you can lose.”

We can lose family members, relationships, jobs, health, beauty and brawn. But the one constant we can never lose is God’s unconditional love. Once we have given ourselves to Him and accepted the forgiveness He freely offers because of what Jesus did on the cross for us, we are locked into an identity that will never change. That being a child of the King of kings.

Which brings us back full circle to Christmas and a new year.  In chapter three of the gospel of John, we read in verse 16 that God loved the world (and we can each insert our name in place of “the world”) so much He sent His Son, Jesus into the world so we can live with Him forever.

In that same gospel of John, the very first verse says, “The Word (Jesus) became flesh and lived with us. Jesus loved us so much He was willing to leave the awesome beauty and perfection of heaven to come to earth for thirty plus years and then take the penalty of our sin upon Himself. But it didn’t stop there. He was resurrected—He smashed death so His children no longer needed to fear it.

A child of the King--hat’s an identity to claim with a passion!

The Storm-Calmer

Death—of beloved young people in plane and car crashes, beloved elderly people to disease. Upheaval of families due to depressed financial situations or worse yet, torn apart by divorce. Chronic illness, depression, job stress, relation stressors—all part of the storms of life that come to us at some point just by virtue that we live in a fallen, imperfect world.

A scripture jewel I read and thought about this week was Luke 8:22-25 where Jesus asks His disciples to take Him to the other side of the Sea of Galilee, the obvious and quickest way being by boat. They all piled in and Jesus was soon asleep because He was tired out from teaching and healing a mass of people in the area He was leaving.

A storm arises which is a common occurrence on the Galilee and the wind and rain were about to swamp the boat, drowning all on board. Someone woke Jesus to tell Him about their dire straits. He immediately rose up and rebuked the storm which instantly calmed. Then He turned to His disciples and scolded them a bit by saying essentially, “Where is your faith?” Even though they had seen Him work miracles with food, heal sick and twisted bodies and even raise the dead, they didn’t understand that their Rabbi, was also the Creator of the universe—so nothing was impossible for Him to do.

As I read this scripture, I was so grateful for the analogy between that storm the disciples were dealing with there on the Sea of Galilee and the storms of life that we have to deal with during our life here on planet Earth.

As Sarah Young aptly wrote, we are so prone to try to fix problems when our abilities are actually very limited. Changing our top priority from trying to fix problems to seeking such a close relationship with the Lord that we are able to see His perspective on the matter makes all the difference. David shared what the Lord told him in Psalm 32:8, “I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go. I will counsel you and watch over you.”

Praise God—the same Jesus Who calmed the Galilee is also able to calm the turbulent waters in our lives.

And Then There Was One

Werener and Hannalie Gronewald made the momentous decision to leave South Africa with their small children and move to Afghanistan in 2003. Werner was the senior pastor at a Dutch Reformed Church and Hannalie was a doctor at a trauma unit.  Their children were ages three and five at that time. They had gone on a medical mission to the area some time earlier and felt an unmistakable calling from the Lord to move. They did so with eyes wide open, knowing they might well lose their lives in Afghanistan because it is a country extremely unfriendly to Christianity.

The move was not easy, the culture difficult to adjust to and the couple was particularly concerned about the educational and social needs of their children. However, the Lord was faithful in taking care of their needs and by 2014, John-Pierre, 17, was hoping to study aviation technology at Moody Bible Institute and Rode, 15, was becoming a gifted writer as well as being interested in the arts. Over the years Werner worked with various humanitarian agencies teaching leadership institutes for Afghans, community development, and always planting seeds of the Gospel. In addition to caring for her family, Hannalie also worked as a doctor in a clinic in Kabul. 

The Gronewald Family

On November 29, 2014 Hannaliie and her fellow doctors had been put on standby at a UN meeting because an attack by the Taliban was expected that day. She had no idea that her family was to be the target.

The Three Who Are Gone

That evening on her way home from work, Hannalie received word that their apartment had been attacked. Eventually, she discovered that Werner, two Afghans, and their two teenagers had been gunned down. Hannalie said in an interview that her one regret wasn’t necessarily that she survived but that “I wanted to be there, especially with the children, just to…hold them and face the bullets.” However, there is no doubt in her mind that Jesus was right there with them.

On October 2014, Werner had spoken at a conference on “Counting the Cost for Christ.” He ended his presentation with this statement: “We die only once. It might as well be for Christ.”  The Gronewald family practiced what they preached.

(Anyone interested in hearing Voice of the Martyer’s interview with Hannalie on September 23, 2016 can go to VOMRadio.net. You can also watch Hannalie's story at persecution.com/idop)  

Which Will It Be?

Enervating? Or energizing? On a recent morning I woke up thinking of cocoons. Actually, I woke up thanking the Lord for the comfy, snuggly cocoon I was nestled in made of several blankets. Since I keep my hair cut short, my ears and neck are exposed, and when it comes to cold, winter winds or drafts in my bedroom, I pretty much become a hibernating human on chilly nights.

As I debated the pros and cons of emerging from my cocoon, there was the continuing warm, safe, snuggly sensation as opposed to the time on my clock announcing it was 6:22 AM. This was a day I could sleep in a bit, but I was properly "guilted" that I should get with my morning schedule as I had a full day ahead. 

As I pondered the idea of cocoons, I naturally thought of the lowly worm that encases itself in a cocoon and at the proper time emerges as a beautiful butterfly. That transformation or metamorphosis in nature is also possible supernaturally for us humans—not that we’ll become butterflies:) but we can become transformed. The apostle Paul explained this best in ­­­­Romans 12:2a, “…be transformed by the renewing of your mind.”

So, just as I cannot stay in the comfy cocoon of my warm bedcovers on these chilly mornings, and as the worm cannot stay in its cocoon, I must emerge from that safe, snuggly spot, perhaps going so far as to get out of my so-called comfort zone and be/do whatever the Lord has laid out for me on a particular day. I can retire to my nest of snuggly, soon to be warmed by body heat, covers at the end of my day, ready to be energized at the start of a new day if He so wills.

Sparks of Joy

I recently returned from a delightful vacation which included seeing dear high school classmates at a Branson, MO get-together (no, we didn’t graduate from that area). In addition to enjoying visits with classmates I hadn’t seen in four years, I got to ride in one couple’s Mustang convertible, see a couple of good shows, take a railroad excursion of the area in a dome car, and enjoy my son’s company on the road trip there and back to Ft. Worth.  

 

Branson bridge from train window

The first part of our return trip back was gorgeous because of the beautiful vistas of all the GREEN trees. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen so many green trees, which, I imagine, have now turned to glorious colors of orange, red, yellow and brown with many shades in between.

Jeff at lookout on Hwy 7

My trip from Elko was actually to celebrate Jeff’s birthday with him on the 14^th but he graciously agreed to drive me to Branson for the first weekend. We were back in TX by Sunday night so he could go to work the next day and I could begin to settle in for the next ten days.

Happy birthday Whole 30 style

I got to do a lot of reading done (and actually some writing on Debra, too) and two of the books I read are really what I want to write about now. In my mind they are linked, but that sounds rather preposterous as the first author is a Buddhist “tidying” consultant and the second, a Christian psychologist:)

Spark Joy is a method of sorting through all your “stuff”, by specific categories, deciding which item gives you joy (meaning you want to keep it). If it doesn’t give you joy, you give it away or throw it away—the last, depending upon its condition. The six categories she lists are Clothes, Books, Papers, Kitchen, Miscellaneous, and Sentimental, and the categories are to be sorted in that order. Once all the sorting is done you are ready to make permanent storage for all the things which give you joy. The book is small and easy to read and she also has some Youtube videos on her method which is called the Kon Mari Method of Tidying.

The next impactful book I read was Dr. Henry Cloud’s Nine Things You Simply Must Do to Succeed in Love and Life.  I have to admit, I found the title a bit cheesy and figured I wouldn’t get through more than a chapter or two. But who can resist chapter headings like, “Act Like an Ant,” or “Hate Well?”

I came away from reading the book motivated to re-memorize piano pieces that I will have to learn a measure or phrase at a time because of my vision limitations, reviewing finger-picking on my guitar—and implementing a lot of what I’d read about what I now call “sparks of joy.”

When Jesus said He “came to give us abundant life,” I believe the sparks of joy we come to recognize in our lives may well be a piece of that abundance. May your day contain many of those “joy sparks.”

Yearning

I was searching for a subject to write about and when our pastor used the word, “yearn” as a central idea for his message on Psalm 63 a couple of weeks ago, I knew I wanted to explore that.

 “Yearn” is not a word we use much in our vernacular these days. My synonym finder listed words like “crave,” “desire,” and “long for” to help define “yearn.” The word seems to have a connotation of great intensity, rather like soul-hunger.

Back at the beginning of time when God created Adam and Eve and placed them as caretakers in the beautiful garden He’d created, everything/everyone was perfect (something we can only guess about). Communion and communication between God and His creation, Man, was also perfect. When sin entered this perfect place through pride or rebellion or whatever you want to label it, that perfect connection between God and Man was broken. And ever since then, that hole in Man’s heart has yearned for God and that perfect connection with Him.

When King David wrote Psalm 63, his kingdom was on a dreadful, downhill slide with his own son, Absalom, seeking to take his throne from him.  David was on the run, not a pleasant sight nor a pleasant plight.

When David said he was yearning for God in a dry and thirsty land, that was literally where he found himself physically because Scripture says he was in the Desert of Judah. Those of us who live in Nevada are well acquainted with dry and thirsty land because we live in it. Nevada’s average rainfall is 7.87 inches. The wilderness of Judah gets a rainfall of 16 inches in a year  yet the pictures look even more bleak than Nevada..

David, the man after God’s own heart, writes in verse 1 that he was seeking, thirsting, and yearning for God. In addition to the harsh country the king was having to traverse, I imagine his father-heart had moved from discomfort and anger to great mental pain. His own son had turned against him and had led many of his countrymen to turn on him as well. This had to be an extremely difficult time for the king.

Yet in the next few verses we witness how God fulfills David’s yearning for Him because David writes in verse 5: “My soul is satisfied…my mouth offers praises with joyful lips.” That doesn’t sound like someone fleeing his enemy in the hot, dry desert. God plainly answered David’s yearning for communication/comfort.

We all have to endure some of that “dry, desert land” time. It may not be in a literal desert like Nevada. It could very likely be a time of illness, a time of loss, whether it be that of a relationship, a loved one, or a layoff at work. As we yearn or seek or thirst or meditate on God’s power and love, we will see His glory and then we can praise Him. Praise leads to a satisfied soul. And a satisfied soul has no need to be concerned about a dry and dusty land.

Travelogue Blog

Team Calgary’s mission was to travel to Calgary, Alberta to help Dan and Amber Sweaza with their new church—Connect Church--which will have its first worship service on September  11 in a movie theater. We left Elko on Saturday morning about 6:30 and stayed the night in Helena, MT—most of the group sleeping on the floor of a church and a few of us fortunates snagging a motel room and sharing our showers with the “less fortunate.” Our group of 19 ranged from age 2 (Genevieve, my seat mate) to age 72 (me).  

Two of our group inside a
huge metal skull sculpture
across from the capitol bldg.

We got to worship with the church who lent the group it’s floor and travelled on to Calgary on Sunday afternoon where Jared, our fearless leader, got very well acquainted with the Border Guard. After about two hours, much trepidation and a phone call to Pastor Dan (Connection Church), the Guard decided we really were not going to be taking work opportunities from Canadians and let us through.

Waiting at the border

We arrived at the seminary grounds where we were to stay the week—parceled among three homes, two having a bath and a half with washer and dryers and the third with two full baths, but no laundry facilities. Monday brought the rain and we headed for Pastor Dan and Amber’s house to fill bags of candy and label left over door hangars for our task the next morning. 

Houses "cheek by jowl"
9 feet apart

We eventually headed for Costco for the largest grocery shopping spree I’ve ever experienced. Food for 19 bodies plus a Neighborhood Block Party fills at least four shopping carts, as we were expecting around 250 parents and kids to show up Tuesday evening.

Four carts full at Costco

Tuesday morning was door hanger time in the area we’d been praying over for several weeks—Panorama Hills. Lovely homes—very close together, all with a flight of steps. Our teams finished in about two and a half hours and headed for Dan and Amber’s where our lasagna was baking for lunch (I think that was the menu).   

Steps and Door hangers

Then we loaded up and went to our park, unloaded the trailer and started arranging our “stations” Our food tent, the face painting station and the crafts station were busy the full time we were there. The “Bounce House” was also very popular as was the Princess from “Frozen.” Dan and Amber were very happy with the good contacts that came from the Party and the Lord orchestrated a gloomy weather forecast into a pleasant evening.

"Frozen" Princess at
Block Party

Lined up for face painting

Wednesday morning saw our group putting out more door hangars for another new church start that Dan found out about. This church will have its start in November (I think) and these door hangers were advertising a block party they were having the next week.  We finished our task, ate lunch and headed for Hope Christian Camp, a camp of disadvantaged children as well as an outreach to the homeless in an another city. 

Yes, it was part of the
"muck-out"

Our job was to muck out a house used for storage, organize an office space, do a woodburning project, mow a portion of the grounds (when it stopped raining) and re-arrange a bunch of picnic tables. 

Cynthia w/a finished
woodburning product

The rain stopped for a while so we could get the outside chores accomplished and then started again just before we piled into the vans.

Thursday we headed for a First Nations Reservation close to Cochrane where we were staying. John the church planter there has been building relationships for four years, starting as a volunteer at the Food Bank. He has been allowed to teach beadwork (he learned how on YouTube) to the women at the Women’s Shelter (a first) and is now known as Santa Claus at the elementary school even though he greatly dislikes the philosophical idea of Mr. Claus. He tutors kids in math and has come up with an idea that the chiefs have bought into for employment for the men there as unemployment on the Rez is abnormally high. John has gotten permission from the tribal elders to use a pavilion for worship (during the warmer months) which has been discarded by the Sun Dance organizers. 

Working on the
Pavillion grounds

Even Genevive helped

Sweep the floor--yes there's
a huge hole in the room

The grounds are what we worked on that afternoon—cleaning out the fence row, tidying up the grounds and sweeping the floor of the pavilion. We left the Rez, enjoying the beautiful scenery but saddened by the poverty of the people.

Friday was Play Day as we headed for Banff, Lake Louise and Moraine Lake. Saw lots of beautiful mountain scenery complete with glaciers and shopped until we dropped in Banff. Also climbed into a canyon where several of us reached the Lower Falls (1-1/2) miles) and one of our intrepid group made it to the Upper Falls, a 3 mile trek.

Jared, Skye and
Moraine Lake

Lower Falls of
?? Canyon:) 

The catwalk above the
water impressed me!!!

Saturday saw us heading for Anaconda, MT where we received a warm welcome including dinner. We stayed with church members and I got to stay with my new friend, Teyrl, who turned out to be a native of Anaconda and lives in the hamlet of Opportunity, Wisdom being the first tiny hamlet outside Anaconda’s city limits.

The road signs say it all

 I didn’t hear the stories behind these names, but I’m sure they’re interesting. I have to say that I find the beautiful mountain scenery between Great Falls and Butte, MT to be as awesome as the imposing peaks of Banff, but I’m grateful to be able to enjoy looking at them all—something a flatlander from Missouri only dreamed of in earlier years.

Anticipation still resides in my heart as I look forward to hearing how God works at Connect Church in the next months and years and how He will draw the hearts of the First Nation people to Himself.

(As a postscript to this lengthy missive, if you go to my FB page, you can see many more pictures of our trip as Jared collected pictures from the team and tagged us all.)

Anticipation

The theme of this post was actually triggered by a chapter I read in Ruth Graham’s book, Fear Not Tomorrow, God Is Already There, but I woke up this morning with Carly Simon’s song, “Anticipation” in my head. The beginning lyrics are so appropriate:  We can never know about the days to come But we think about them anyway.

I think of anticipation as an emotion—a really powerful one that can raise your blood pressure, leading you to imagined great joy—or even imagined fear, but I intend to explore the positive aspect.

Remember how you looked forward to Christmas or your birthday, or a trip to Disneyland when you were a child? Anticipating marrying the most wonderful person in the world, thinking of holding your newborn child (or grandchild) in your arms—all of these life experiences are part of anticipation.

Now think of a time when your life’s journey seemed to hit a stop sign or a detour and you didn’t have a clue as to what might come next. That’s when we get to practice trust in God. Remember, He’s already in our tomorrows and He’s promised He will never forsake us. On top of that, He really wants His children to anticipate what He has in store for them.

I’m writing this just a few days before I leave for Calgary, Alberta as part of a mission team from my church. We’re going to help/encourage a new church starting in that city in September. And I am really anticipating what God is going to do in Calgary using me and my teammates. Three of our group are retirees which goes to show usefulness and anticipation are not only for the youngJ

When Israel was in bondage to the Egyptian Pharaoh, they anticipated freedom and were led out by 80-year-old Moses.  In Luke chapter 2, God graciously allows us to meet two aged, Godly people who had been anticipating the appearance of Messiah their entire lives. Finally, in their senior years (I’m guessing both Simeon and Anna were in their 80’s), God just happened to orchestrate a meeting between each of them and the young couple from Nazareth with their new-born son, who just happened to be Messiah.

Talk about anticipation with lasting benefits! I guess this being said, I would encourage ALL of us to anticipate what God has ready for us to join in with Him next. If we are looking for it, He won’t have any problem showing us.:) Are you excited yet?

“A Quick Thrust of Trust"

The title of this post is a quote from Sarah Johnson’s book, Jesus Calling.  I’m a sucker for alliterative phrases and this one caught my eye as I read her Biblical nudges recently.

The whole idea of trusting Jesus every second of your life is, as Johnson points out, not a suggestion, but rather a command. (“Don’t worry about tomorrow” Matthew 6:14). I love the idea of how God created Time from the very beginning—you can check out Genesis 1 re: Day and Night-- and in addition, for we obsesive Westerners in the 21^st century, He has even divided Time into hours, minutes, seconds (and you can carry this further if you so wish).

All of this discussion about our lifetime and worry boils down to the idea of Jesus and His strength and grace being able to safeguard us moment by moment. But He’s not going to show us any more of the future than the moment we are living in right now. Think of it as a protective shield. Don’t we worry enough about the future moments as it is? What if we really knew the future moments of our lives on earth? Talk about the worry factor escalating through the roof!

As I mused on God’s moment by moment there- ness (Presence), I was reminded of the time when the children of Israel were wandering in the desert for those 40 years. God, in His mercy and grace, didn’t kill off His disobedient children immediately (just let natural attrition do it), but instead, He sent manna from heaven—every day—just enough for each family for that day. The rule was if you gathered more than you needed, you discovered the excess amount had rotted. And, when the Sabbath day came around (see how Time is already in use?), adequate manna appeared to feed your family for two days because no one was supposed to work on the Sabbath.

Jesus personally told His disciples as well as teaching the crowds who gathered around Him, not to worry—about anything. It won’t “add to your stature”, i.e., make you taller, more attractive, or wealthier (Matthew, chapter 6). He is capable of taking care of our needs and we may be surprised at how many desires He will also fulfill.  All because He loves us.  That kind of love makes it easy to trust Him--with all of our moments

As Time Goes By

That title heads a lovely classic song made popular in the 1942 movie, “Casablanca.” The song is now the theme song for a British romantic comedy series first televised in the 1990’s starring Judy Dench. Dean and I enjoyed watching the show because it mirrors family life complete with adult children, etc. Our PBS station re-airs the series often and I love to watch it repeatedly as I catch one-liners I missed previously because of the British accents and my poor hearingJ

I'm waxing nostalgic  because the month of July deals with such things—my birthday—completing one year and beginning a new one, and Dean’s graduation to a new life when he left Planet Earth and got to meet the Lord and be reunited with many loved ones and friends.

To celebrate my birthday and Dean’s “graduation,” my boys and I decided to spend the July 4^th weekend in Rawlins, Wyoming, the town Dean considered his hometown. Rawlins was literally Brian’s hometown because he was born there and Jeff was only nine months old when we moved there in 1972.

We tried to go, do, or see the things our family typically enjoyed during our years in Rawlins, 1972-1983. Friday afternoon we picked Jeff up at the Salt Lake City Airport and stayed the night in Evanston, WY. Saturday, we got to Rawlins, bought some silk flowers and a little American flag and put them at the gravesite of Dean and Mom and Dad Diehl.  

We drove out to Bairoil, the (formerly, Sinclair) oil camp whene both Dean and his dad had worked as well as driving by our old neighborhoods (we lived in two different houses during our stay in Rawlins).

Aspen Alley

Belinda "riding" her log pony

Dean’s sister, Belinda and her husband, daughter and friend met us for the weekend which increased the enjoyment. We walked around the town, looking at the interesting architecture and then on Sunday we drove south of Rawlins to what is known as Aspen Alley and picnicked in the mountains above Encampment.   

After lunch we drove down the other side of the mountain and toured the Encampment Museum guided by a very knowledgeable young lady.

Jeff & Gidget-2 story Outhouse

A Forest Ranger tower has been moved to the museum grounds so most of our group (I had to hold GidgetJ climbed the 75 steps up—and the 75 steps down. Since most of them looked a little green when they got back to terra firma, I was glad I had been the designated dog-holder.

To get back to Rawlins from Encampment without backtracking you have to go through Saratoga and it was a beautiful drive. It’s the Platte Valley with beautiful ranchlands—very easy on the eyes. The one thing we did not do as we headed out of Saratoga was go agate hunting which was a favorite weekend pastime for our family when the boys were little.

We had to travel back on July 4 so headed for Salt Lake City after a leisurely breakfast so Jeff could catch his plane back to Fort Worth. Brian and I got home before dark, all of us grateful to have travelled safely and glad to be home. I just finished reading Big Tiny by Dee Williams and this quote from her book is a perfect closing to this blog post: "...home was still the place we all fell asleep, even if some of us were missing.”

As Time Goes By

That title heads a lovely classic song made popular in the 1942 movie, “Casablanca.” The song is now the theme song for a British romantic comedy series first televised in the 1990’s starring Judy Dench. Dean and I enjoyed watching the show because it mirrors family life complete with adult children, etc. Our PBS station re-airs the series often and I love to watch it repeatedly as I catch one-liners I missed previously because of the British accents and my poor hearingJ

I'm waxing nostalgic  because the month of July deals with such things—my birthday—completing one year and beginning a new one, and Dean’s graduation to a new life when he left Planet Earth and got to meet the Lord and be reunited with many loved ones and friends.

To celebrate my birthday and Dean’s “graduation,” my boys and I decided to spend the July 4^th weekend in Rawlins, Wyoming, the town Dean considered his hometown. Rawlins was literally Brian’s hometown because he was born there and Jeff was only nine months old when we moved there in 1972.

We tried to go, do, or see the things our family typically enjoyed during our years in Rawlins, 1972-1983. Friday afternoon we picked Jeff up at the Salt Lake City Airport and stayed the night in Evanston, WY. Saturday, we got to Rawlins, bought some silk flowers and a little American flag and put them at the gravesite of Dean and Mom and Dad Diehl.  

We drove out to Bairoil, the (formerly, Sinclair) oil camp whene both Dean and his dad had worked as well as driving by our old neighborhoods (we lived in two different houses during our stay in Rawlins).

Aspen Alley

Belinda "riding" her log pony

Dean’s sister, Belinda and her husband, daughter and friend met us for the weekend which increased the enjoyment. We walked around the town, looking at the interesting architecture and then on Sunday we drove south of Rawlins to what is known as Aspen Alley and picnicked in the mountains above Encampment.   

After lunch we drove down the other side of the mountain and toured the Encampment Museum guided by a very knowledgeable young lady.

Jeff & Gidget-2 story Outhouse

A Forest Ranger tower has been moved to the museum grounds so most of our group (I had to hold GidgetJ climbed the 75 steps up—and the 75 steps down. Since most of them looked a little green when they got back to terra firma, I was glad I had been the designated dog-holder.

To get back to Rawlins from Encampment without backtracking you have to go through Saratoga and it was a beautiful drive. It’s the Platte Valley with beautiful ranchlands—very easy on the eyes. The one thing we did not do as we headed out of Saratoga was go agate hunting which was a favorite weekend pastime for our family when the boys were little.

We had to travel back on July 4 so headed for Salt Lake City after a leisurely breakfast so Jeff could catch his plane back to Fort Worth. Brian and I got home before dark, all of us grateful to have travelled safely and glad to be home. I just finished reading Big Tiny by Dee Williams and this quote from her book is a perfect closing to this blog post: "...home was still the place we all fell asleep, even if some of us were missing.”

Cousinhood Connections

As often happens when I get up in the morning, sipping my first cup of coffee and feeling my brain cells stretching and yawning, I sit and stare somewhat mindlessly at my fireplace and surrounding bookcases. Not that there’s any reason to sit and stare at them. It just gives my eyes a place to rest at that particular time.

I’m very grateful for the luxury during these retirement years to leisurely sit and slowly wake up as, unlike my husband Dean, who was wide awake and energized the moment he sat up in bed and then touched his feet to the floor, I find it almost painful if I must rush through that first cup of coffee.

At any rate, I digress. One of the abovementioned leisurely mornings last week, I was sitting there thinking about my mom and dad, and in particular, Mom's cousin—and then my cousins—and then my sons’ cousins. The question that surfaced in my mind was description of relational levels.

Using my mother for an example: she was the eldest grandchild on both sides of her family, her maternal side of the family consisting only of she and her younger sister as grandchildren. No first cousins there.  However, on her father’s side, he had two siblings with progeny.

Thus appeared my first question: were my mother’s first cousins my second cousins or were they my first cousins, once removed? And what degree of cousinhood were the children of my mother’s first cousins to her? And to me?

Googling “cousinhood degrees” I clicked on a promising-looking link and read what was, to me at least, a rational answer to my question. Family Tree Magazine posted this statement, “All cousins share a common ancestor.” So you figure out your relationship from that common ancestor.

My mother and her first cousin, Virginia Lee shared common ancestors, namely their grandparents

The cousinly “removes” enter the picture when two relatives don’t have the same number of generations between them and their most recent common ancestor. One generation difference equals one remove.

Therefore, my mother’s first cousin, Virginia, is my first cousin, once removed since I’m one generation further distant from our common ancestor (her grandparents). However, Virginia’s son, Larry, is my second cousin because we are an equal number of generations distant from our common ancestors, Virginia’s and my mother’s grandparents.

I am probably the only one out there who has been confused on this issue. If that’s the case, go ahead and feel superiorJ

If we go back into ancestral lines far enough, we are all related. And as far as God’s family is concerned, we don’t have to go back as far as cousins. By accepting what Christ did on the cross and through His resurrection, we no longer need be under the curse of our sins and ensuring death. Acceptance of His gift of salvation puts us into the family of God—that means we have lots of brothers and sisters. (Who needs cousins?)

The Crossroad

“Two roads diverged in a yellow wood….” I love this poem by Robert Frost although a divergent road doesn’t quite fit my story—it’s just sounds more romantic.

From fifth grade through college graduation, my life’s path was aimed at the goal of teaching and more specifically, teaching music. I was born and raised in the Missouri and spent my first year of teaching in Illinois. That spring my Chinese college roommate asked me to be maid of honor at her wedding in California. I had no inkling at the time, but a major crossroad was soon to appear in my journey.

After the wedding, I flew back only as far as Wyoming since I planned to visit another college roommate, Ruthie, who was home there for the summer. And it so happened that Ruthie had an older brother. Older brother drove 120 miles to the Rock Springs airport in his powder-blue MGB (along with his sister) to pick me up. That first meeting piqued my interest and the week I had planned to stay in Wyoming soon moved past seven days. I even began getting calls from my mom asking when I planned to return homeJ

Three weeks later I arrived back in Missouri, sensing a major life change was in the offing. But I had signed a contract to teach another year at the school in Illinois so Dean (the older brother), made plans to come to Missouri at least a couple of times during the school year to visit. In the meantime, many letters crossed the western plains (there was no e-mail or FaceBook in those days).

The crossroad appeared when I received a phone call from a school superintendant, a friend of Dean’s family, who was moving to a new school and needed a music teacher. I told him I’d already signed a contract with the school in Illinois and he urged me to ask for a release. I doubted my chances because both my principal and superintendant had retired at the end of the school year so I doubted I would have anyone sympathetic to my desire to move West (and see more of Dean).

Now came the decision. What if the Illinois school board released me from my contract? Did I have the intestinal fortitude to move to Wyoming to teach on an Indian reservation under a supervisor I’d never met? Dean and his folks lived 120 miles from where I would be teaching, so I would essentially be living among strangers. Dare I make a drastic turn at this crossroad or continue on the straight path I was on?

I wrote to the school board of the school in Illinois and within a couple of weeks I received a reply from them releasing me from my contract. And my decision was made.

There have been many divergences from the major direction change I took at that crossroad—some were planned, some were surprises. They would include marriage, children, major illnesses, financial disaster/well-being, and widowhood. Career changes would move me from public school music teaching to private studio teaching to secretarial/bookkeeping positions and then retiring to write.

How many of these paths/life changes might have transpired if I hadn’t met Dean and moved West at that crossroad? I don’t know. But I married a wonderful man, have two loving sons and have enjoyed multiple experiences, making many friends during this journey. I have no regrets about that crossroad decision and can say at this point, “that has made all the difference.”

The Flowers That Bloom in the Spring…

In thinking about a title for this post, the Gilbert and Sullivan ditty from “The Mikado” came to mind—“The flowers that bloom in the spring, tra-la, breathe promise of merry sunshine.”    We have had enough moisture plus warm days to bring out the blooms in my front flower garden. The irises appear to be blooming their utmost and before those buds appeared. the tulips did their thing.

The earliest tulips were a cheerful, bright red-orange. But I had a pleasant surprise after our last snow-rain to see two sturdy tulips, this time in a cool lavender hue. They lasted for a week on my dining room table and you can see by the second photograph, the sad demise of the first one.  

 My friend/accountability partner and I are memorizing Psalm 103 and verses 15 and 16 came up to be memorized about the time my tulips bloomed and then slowly died. The verses read as follows: “As for man, his days are like grass, he flourishes like a flower of the field; the wind blows over it and it is gone, and its place remembers it no more.” (NIV) 

The lesson I got from my tulips along with the verses we were memorizing is this:

1)    I  know my next breath isn’t guaranteed, so I need to cooperate with the Lord in the way I use each of the remaining minutes He allows.

2)    I don’t know how long my family and friends are going to be left on this planet so I need to let them know I love and appreciate them. And see that I do that more than once a yearJ

Obviously there are verses surrounding the ones I mentioned above and the psalmist (and God) doesn’t leave us on a negative note as we can see in verse 17 of Psalm 103: “But from everlasting to everlasting the Lord’s love is with those who fear him, and his righteousness with their children’s children—“

My flowers give me joy and I can thank the Lord for them. You, my friends and family also give me joy and I love you. May I ever be aware of opportunities to say so and thank the Lord for you.

A Natural Wonder

After completing my morning regimen, I turned on my computer today and discovered it is Earth Day. I had been considering the following item as a blog post so this seems the perfect day to do so.

As I was listening to NPR several weeks ago on the way to a meeting, a fellow was being interviewed about a “boiling river” he had discovered (not as in being the first to see it, but as a new geographical feature to him—and many others).

I wasn’t taking notes as I listened, naturally, so later I did a search on the internet in hopes of finding further information on this “boiling river.” Bingo! It popped right up on my computer screen.

A young Peruvian geoscientist, Andres Ruzo, had been fascinated about the myth of a boiling river since he was a child. But it wasn’t until he began writing his PhD thesis on geothermal potential in Peru that he began to wonder if such a thing was possible. All the experts told him that hot rivers exist but they are somehow connected with volcanoes. There are no volcanoes in the area Ruzo hailed from.

In 2011 Ruzo hiked into the Amazon forest with his aunt. She and his mother claimed they had actually swam in a portion of the boiling river as youngsters (obviously not the hottest part). When Ruzo arrived, he saw a river rising with steam, so he whipped out his thermometer and took its temperatureJ It was 86 degrees Celsius—not quite boiling but definitely hot enough to cook.   

Thermal pools in other parts of the world get to this temperature, but he witnessed a huge area at that heat—25 meters wide, 6 meters deep, extending for 6.24 km. (When you translate that to US measurements that is roughly 75 feet wide, 18 feet deep, extending maybe 3-4 miles) I’m not sure of my conversion figures but that is a lot of hot water.

The river is 700 km from the closest volcanic system so Ruzo wanted to discover the mysterious source of this boiling river. He got permission from the local

Shaman to study the river and its ecosystem. He discovered the hot water comes from fault-fed hot springs. Here’s the example given: “Imagine Earth like a human body, with fault lines and cracks running through it like arteries. These ‘Earth arteries’ are filled with hot water, and when they come to the surface, we see geothermal manifestations, like the boiling river.”

The river water was analyzed and was shown to have originally fallen to earth as rain. Ruzo hypothesized this happened far upstream and the rain water seeped down into the ground where it was heated up by Earth’s geothermal energy and then emerged as the boiling river.

The next statement in this article is totally fascinating. “This [hypothesis] means the system is part of an enormous hydrothermal system, the likes of which haven’t been seen anywhere else on the planet.”

Ruzo has researched the microbes living in the hot water and has discovered new species. As for swimming in the river, it can be done only after a heavy rainfall has diluted the hot water--personally, I wouldn’t want to chance it. Normally, the indigenous people use the hot water for brewing tea and cooking. (I wonder if some enterprising person has discovered how to pipe it into their home?)

That’s the science lesson for Earth Day 2016. Once again we see how wondrously our Creator has formed our world and everything in it.

Springtime in the Rockies…

often means snow and sleet. At least that’s what we experienced on the Tuesday after Easter (March 29), the day we planned to leave for Tucson. Weather reports the night before were forecasting 18-24 inches in Ely, Nevada during the next 24-36 hours, and that was the route we usually take—Elko-Ely-Las Vegas-Kingman, AZ for the first day and on to Tucson the second day.

Tuesday morning began with no exiting Elko without snow tires or chains, neither of which my rental car was equipped with. Brian kept watching the weather maps via the internet and by 10 AM the Pequops mountain range had lifted the snow tire/chains requirement. By 10:30 AM we were backing out of our driveway and heading for Salt Lake City, UT and I -15 South—a longer route to Kingman but doable.

I wish I had pictures of the blue sky at the edge of the Salt Flats which minutes later turned into a stormy one with road surface and outlying areas covered with icy crystals at least an inch deep. And to add insult to injury, this occurred again about fifteen minutes later. Generally, Brian takes pictures of interesting weather phenomena but this time he was too busy keeping the car on the road (plus, I would have been screaming at him if he’d attempted any photography at the time).

The week prior to that trip, Elko weather had been beautiful—enough so that I brought in some of my daffodils from the front flower garden. This picture was taken before Easter.

Once we got to Tucson, their weather was lovely and visits with family and friends were delightful. We managed to leave Arizona before the thermometer hit 90 degrees and came back to Elko in lovely weather.

However, the storms do love to move in on us from the Pacific, and this most recent one finally managed to bring snow to our valley instead of rain. This is what our backyard looked like this morning (April 15). The snow is gone now but we could well see more before it’s safe to plant a garden without benefit of a greenhouse.

So for you readers who live in a much more dependable climate, you can either enjoy the “boredom” or move to a location where, if you don’t like what the weather is doing, just wait fifteen minutes.