free to be

2007-10-27T11:03:00.000-05:00

CLICK HERE FOR OUR NEW SITE.

2007-10-14T16:30:00.000-05:00

It makes me CRAZY that I can't get these to post on our wordpress site. It's something with my site only...works if we try to post it on kyle's.
oh well, here's some pics of our bonflicker last night. So much fun. I missed photo ops of a whole group of people but they were new...and I didn't want to frighten them right from the beginning by whipping the camera out. Next time, they are fair game. ;)

2007-09-25T14:45:00.000-05:00

www.free2be.wordpress.com

ughhh. I cannot for the life of me figure out how to get these things to show up on the wordpress site so for those of you who still check this, here's a few more photos from home.

2007-09-20T20:45:00.000-05:00

Here's the scoop. Our blog site is moving to the following address:

www.free2be.wordpress.com

I have no idea what I'm doing on there yet. Kyle is out of town but hopefully he can give me some lessons when he gets back. Right now I have no idea how to post slide shows...and most of my posts are duplicated because I accidentally imported my blog twice. So be patient. The look of the site may change a lot...much like myself, it is a work in progress. ;)
peace!

2007-09-20T18:05:00.000-05:00

the first few shots from WI. I have loads to upload but it takes forever--and they are on the mac, which is presently in KY, with my husband. SO, this is just the first group that has been downloaded...mom, that means you are not allowed to freak that your face isn't on here yet. It's coming. I promise. ;)

2007-09-17T16:52:00.001-05:00

Blended.

That’s right; we are officially blended.

So the big reception/party at the house was a hit. Dad had a huge white tent put up; we set up a volleyball net, had logs burning full force in the fire pit; and plenty of other outdoor activities for the kids or the young at heart. He also had a beer cart dropped off with two port-a-potties which I honestly believed was a joke until they were literally dropped off out back. Rhonda’s family brought their campers and crashed out at the house after all was said and done Saturday night. Loads of people came in and out-so many faces I haven’t seen in forever.

The weather was gorgeous—it felt like a perfect fall day.

Ever since the plane landed, everything’s felt good; celebratory; peaceful. But then yesterday, the day after the big party, I felt…I don’t know, like I was fighting constantly to hold back tears.

I love this new extension of our family. I like that the house if full of activity & life & laughter. I like that dad is teaching little ones to hunt and fish and that he’s cheering them on from the sidelines at their games. I can deal with fake cockroaches on my pillows and in my sheets—and with new brothers who like to try and flick fly heads on me. (I have a fly head smeared on my pant leg as I type, from one battle lost). I enjoy getting to know all of Rhonda’s extended family. I genuinely love these new people who are now a part of us.

So why the tears?

Growing pains, maybe?
Probably, and I suspect I’m not the first to feel this way.
A couple of the kids had major meltdowns during the party—which was probably the kid version of what I’m feeling/experiencing. They physically let it all out while I struggle to find the right words to find the same sort of release.
Everything just feels so different and while we are in a good place, occasionally I get those sad pangs. Bedrooms that sheltered us as we grew and tested our wings, are now responsible for growing new kids up. Traditions are different. Expectations are changing. New stories are unfolding within the confines of these walls—and while I once felt like a main character, I’m now more of an observer. That feels strange. And though I would not change one thing, elements of even the best and happiest new changes tend to carry with them, a twinge of sad.

But then we get together at the table for one of those meals where kids say the craziest things or we have a movie all cuddled up in lumps downstairs and I know the world is as it should be. Growing pains are temporary.
It’s good to be us, blended together.
Me, with my fly guts. ;)

2007-09-13T12:26:00.000-05:00

back to my roots.

brats; cheesecurds; atv's; fleece; cabelas...

we've been home not quite 24 hours and yet we've managed to take in all of the above. We really are our own breed of people up here and I forget sometimes how much I love the very things that most people would ridicule. I can't tell you how amazing the cool weather feels. Dad has a stock pile of wood out back to have a bonfire this weekend--and it's the perfect weather for it.

Okay, so, we had our first family dinner last night with rhonda and her boys. They've grown up sooo much since the last time we were with them. So here's a little window into family life...
Dinner is delicious we're all jabbering away and then for whatever reason it becomes silent. I didn't really notice because I was focused on the food that was disappearing off the plate in front of me but then this one lonely voice breaks the silence with this question.

"Mom?"
"What does,
bastard,
mean???"

SILENCE.
I thought I would die.

I looked up at Rhonda.
Then over to Conner-who was waiting expectantly for an answer to his big question.
Then I glanced sideways at Kyle, which was a big mistake, because he was shoveling a forkful of food into his mouth to prevent a total outburst--which nearly got me started.
Then there was Dad, at the other end of the table, who had amusement written all over his face--but who's mind was obviously already reeling with the best way to answer the question.

The next 5 minute discussion that ensued was everything one ever wanted or needed to know about the word bastard; dad even grabbed Websters to provide a completely ridiculous definition that no 10 year old would ever understand. Rhonda answered everything perfectly--and of course got to the root of where this word was introduced to her son. I CANNOT EVEN BEGIN TO TELL YOU HOW HILARIOUS THE WHOLE CONVERSATION WAS. Once the boys got up from the table we could not control ourselves. And again, as we crawled into bed last night we laid there and laughed some more.

It was a little bit of insight into family life.
Sometimes I forget that this is what dad is about to do all over again but last night was a perfect reminder. And the thing is, they are so ready. Bring it on!

I called Camp Ruff-n-more to check on Stinky today. (My disclaimer: I normally do not do this but because he's been sick-o I thought I should check on him). I talked to Cory and he said that Oliver was doing well. I asked if he was playing nice with others. Cory laughed and said," yeah, he's completely fine and social." "In fact", he said, "he's been entertaining us because he keeps mounting the other dogs."

WHAT???
I was completely mortified and felt like I should apologize but I have no idea where that comes from. I've seen him try this with my niece--sorry Riley--but as a general rule this is not something we have problems with. It definitely isn't learned behavior.
ha ha.

So there you have it.
We're having a good time; Oliver's getting cheap thrills at camp. We're having conversations about bastards while Stinky is putting the definition to the test.
can't wait to see what day number 2 brings!

2007-09-07T11:48:00.000-05:00

I've been trying to stay one step ahead of myself all week. But not today. Today, it all caught up with me. Good stress...bad stress...it doesn't seem to matter.

Our chaplain asked me to pray with him this morning and as soon as I quieted myself, everything got blurry. Everything I've tried to swallow down this week rose up despite my best efforts.

I got that job offer...actually, the position has been tweaked a little. I told them I would let them know on Monday what my decision will be. So I have 3 days. Do I go? Do I stay?
How do I leave?
it's not the end of the world. it's a job for goodness sake.
do I take a more "family friendly" job before we even have the family?!?

Next week, we go home.
I realize on a blog where family check in, it's best to hit the highlights and keep it at that. But, the truth is, there is apprehension in the mix of my emotions. Sometimes it's just hard, plain and simple. Not a criticism.
just life.

BUT, enough of that.
What's WI, without a par-tay? My cousin Tony is getting married tomorrow!!! We hate to miss that big bash but we know it will be loads of fun and with my mom in attendance, I'm confident there will be stories. Anyone catch that killer football game last night??? Go colts! (jim, we hope you're recovering...) Can't wait to see the Meltons; 'Conversations' at church this week was real and unfiltered--so exactly what we've craved; and so far--my call night has been blissfully quiet and lovely. ;)

a bit of happy from our week.
(these pictures never quite turn out the way you hope they will. haha.)

2007-09-02T14:27:00.000-05:00

I lied.

I promised no more possible house pics until it was official. The great and glorious thing about blogs?!? You don't have to read this.

So after a long, long day of house hunting it boils down to two. Both homes are asking about the same price. The home in Unicoi county is a bit more off the beaten trail but it's completely ready to be moved into. I wouldn't have any desire to change anything. Kyle's not crazy about the county it's located in but the street is wooded and beautiful and taxes are cheap!! The johnson city home, is in a better location for work and church, etc. but it will need some work--nothing that absolutely has to happen right away but eventually. (pink countertops; a strange ceiling above the hot tub which ought to be open; funky carpet, etc.) Thoughts, concerns, objections?? Pass them on...we need help.

The Unicoi home...

living room--opens into dining room

kitchen

master bath on main level

entryway off of the garage

spare room above the garage. likely an office or playroom.

A new Johnson City home we found yesterday.
Kyle's favorite...meg's number 2

the dining room

what you see as you come in the front door

kitchen

master bedroom

master bath

hot tub (can't figure out why this wasn't left open on the deck. strange.)

2007-08-31T15:21:00.000-05:00

Last Sunday night, we were asked, "what do you dream of when you dream about the church?"

No more complaining...or comparing battle wounds. No more hands clutched protectively over our hearts. No more lugging baggage around from church to church. What would we look like if we decided to stop taking inventory of our wounds and chose, instead, to be that difference? To love people the way you needed to be loved? To listen to someone's story the way you wish people would have heard your own?

We are people who are gifted differently. We are people who abide in Christ in many different ways--beautiful ways, hand crafted and individualized by the very One who gave us breath. Some of us praise Him with clay or canvas; some people sing and lift their hands; others worship Him in writing and word. Some people feel closest to God under a canopy of trees or on top of a mountain. Other's could spend hours alone-just Him and them; or seek out people/community to talk and pray and dream with.

So what is my dream for church?
I dream of sharing life with every kind of person--motivated not by an agenda, or a need to promote our church, or a desire to "fix" someone but motivated out of love. Love that changed my life and makes me want to seek Him & find Him in all of His people. That means peeling labels off; putting myself in places that I might not ordinarily frequent; rolling up my sleeves and meeting physical needs of people; having friends from all parts of the world. It means taking an initiative to listen to someone's story. It also means not forcing conversations about God. Talking about Him is good, necessary and powerful when it's genuine and authentic--when it truly overflows out of deep love & gratitude for Him. It is not helpful when my purpose for mentioning Him is rooted in a deficiency; a desire to give myself a self righteous pat on the back. People can tell where your heart is when you haven't even looked into their eyes and you're already 'preaching'. It turns people off--it becomes some of their baggage that they lug around.

Is it too much to believe the church can be all of these things? Services that utilize music and messages; art and dance; a quiet room to escape or a room full of people? Services lived out on the streets with people who would never dream of walking into a formal church service? Can I invite the man who lives on the street; or the person who might be in the throws of addictions? My neighbor who's a single mom? Can I love those whose sexual orientation is different than mine? Will they, too, feel that they have a place--not just within the walls of a building, but a true genuine community; will they understand just a fraction of God's deep and amazing love for them by the shred of love in us?

I've struggled at how to write about what's happening on Sunday nights. A conversation is taking form that is bigger than the small handful of us that gather together. But these are the things of which we dream. It's not about us--which might be part of the trouble I have when I sit down to write. I'm afraid I'll pollute the things we've talked about.
But I dream, because I too have a story-and I'd be nothing if not for the mercy and grace of Jesus. We want to truly love people the way He would have us love them. We desire to walk with people who might never darken the doorway of a church because we get it; we relate.

"judas betrayed you for thirty pieces of silver.
forgive me for all the times i've done it
for free.

yet you've chosen to call me friend.
help me to live like it.
i'm both captured and set free by
the mystery of your love." -Story

2007-08-27T20:39:00.001-05:00

HAPPY BIRTHDAY HUSBAND!!!!

yep...that's right, today's the big day! Kyle turned the big 3.2. ;) Sadly no wild, crazy birthday adventures (well, maybe just one) but we did enjoy a fabulous dinner with some of our TN family. Kyle could seriously spend every day out on the slopes in the winter so, to celebrate him and all that his 31st year brought with it, he's going to get some skies--finally! Long overdue!! Thanks to all of the family who have contributed to the fund. ;) Chris and Lara, get ready for us...Boulder here we come!

AND HAPPY ANNIVERSARY JACLYN AND JOSHUA!!

Jacs, we will always think of you as we celebrate. I can't believe a whole year has already passed! We love you and Joshua...and we love the two of you together. So cheers! Hope it was a great day.

So much other stuff I could write about but for tonight I have to cut it short. More soon.

2007-08-25T20:17:00.000-05:00

Blowing Rock, NC

we. are. exhausted.

So here's the new thing (well, new for us anyway) when you get ready to put your home on the market: you have a stager that comes over and does a walk through. Then she gives you homework; which turns into a fabulous reason to purchase the non-essential but asthetically pleasing things you've never allowed yourself to get. More pillows for the bed? a plant here? mmmm, what's that? a new lamp shade? ;) $200.00 dollars later, I confess feeling a bit smug thinking that the house has never looked so well put together. Best part? Not feeling guilty about the receipts-afterall, it was homework. ;)

Kyle and I got our to do list on Tuesday knowing full well that she'd be coming back today. So after 4 full days of procrastination today was our day to start cleaning as the sun came up. We spackled and painted; dusted and mopped; mulched and planted; & boxed up all the bizarre things that closets & drawers accumulate. We worked all freaking day--with the exception of an hour or so when we ran over to the tree streets garage sale to eat a little bbq and see some friends.

Then, this evening she came back. After killing ourselves all day, I thought we were finished rearranging but nooo...we pushed and pulled furniture for another couple hours. And now, I have another list. cha ching...
but our house is rockin if I do say so myself. It hurt me a little to box up all of our "personal" photos and I felt a bit protective as she eyed our orphan photos on the walls but hey, they'll make their debut again soon.
so tell your neighbors and your friends!! This baby hits the market this week! We have no idea where we're going...look out, we may be sleeping on a street corner near you!

Yesterday, when we ought to have been getting a jump start on cleaning, Kyle and I escaped and went to Blowing Rock. I love it there. We walked up and down the streets, did some window shopping and made two tiny purchases. We had a tasty dinner and enjoyed a little blue grass music on the streets afterwards. good stuff. It's kyle's birthday on Monday--and this month marks one full year that the business has been up and running so it was nice to get away for an afternoon to celebrate!!

2007-08-22T20:49:00.000-05:00

"I never liked jazz music because jazz music doesn't resolve. But I was outside the Bagdad Theater in Portland one night when I saw a man playing the saxophone. I stood there for fifteen minutes, and he never opened his eyes.
After that I liked jazz music.
Sometimes you have to watch somebody love something before you can love it yourself. It is as if they are showing you the way.
I used to not like God because God didn't resolve. But that was before any of this happened." David Miller, Blue like Jazz

I remember the first time I went to see a broadway play. In was Christmastime in Chicago. The streets were blanketed with snow and Christmas lights winked at us as far as our eyes could see. I was probably about 10 years old and although I understood very little about the play we were about to see, it was mesmerizing in every way.
When it was over, I remember walking out of the theater, bundled up in my coat. A solo saxophone player stood at the street corner with his hat on the ground. He was playing Christmas carrols, seemingly oblivious to the cold. A few people stood in a street corner and listened. As he played, taxi's raced by, people scurried here and there and big, heavy snowflakes danced from the sky.

I remember, even then, that there were other people on the streets that night. Figures in the periphery; faces I could never have identified in a line up because I intentionally stared at the ground. I took quick peeks at them every now and then to satisfy my curiousity, but there was 'us', and then there was 'them'. I was buffered in my warm coat and I had just enjoyed a play I would never forget. While most of us walked purposefully to a destination--in our case, a warm hotel room, these statues in our periphery, stood in one place; hands out-stretched.

"Sometimes you have to watch somebody love something before you can love it yourself. It is as if they are showing you the way."

That night in Chicago, I was exposed to an art of music and dance that over time, would weave it's way into my being. I learned that some people cry at broadway plays, and some people listen with their eyes closed; their love of music pulsing through their very souls. That night I watched a man lose himself in the notes he played from his solo performance on a busy street corner.
His song gives melody to the memory of that night.

Have you ever watched someone love with that same kind of abandon? Those who stop to connect with the people who rest in the street shadows, palms outstretched? Not superficial love-the kind that puts quarters into upturned hands while rushing by, but real love. The kind that sees and acts. listens and sacrifices.
There's a difference.
Every now and then I get a glimpse of love like that and it stops me in my tracks.

I, too, used to think God didn't resolve. Actually, I still have my days. But I listened once as a man came into my classroom and told his story about life on the streets. He had wisdom in those eyes that no one used to see. He was accustomed to being the blur in the periphery of passerby's and he felt dead inside. But someone loved him differently. One day someone stopped and listened and took his hand. It changed his story and led to the greatest love story ever.
Redemptive love.

If I could open up the pages of the Bible and lose myself in the chapters, we'd see love like that. Over and over again. Love that makes you want to close your eyes and breathe it in. Love that lives in us and through us.
We're called to love like that.

"Someone pointed out to me
that a pebble and a diamond
are alike to the blind man.

maybe I've been fingering
diamonds all this time,
without ever realizing it.
-steven james, Story

2007-08-20T20:30:00.000-05:00

a few things to be grateful for-

1. In a few short weeks Kyle and I are heading north for WI. Once there, we will get to spend time with my family. All of them. This never happens anymore--in fact, we do well to see each other once a year and now that we're all scattered all over the country, we are NEVER all in the same place. But for a few days, it will be a big reunion.

2. My dad's getting married! I can't believe I haven't mentioned this before because this is huge for him and for our new--expanding family. I will be gaining 3 little brothers!! :) After all of the heartache and turmoil that my dad has been through over the past two years it does my heart good to know that he's so happy.

3. My girl Marcia, along with Greg and Ava, will be coming to WI the weekend we are there. It's never the same going 'home' without her so this will be one of the biggest highlights of our trip home.

4. Kyle's having a birthday! The best reason ever to go somewhere and lock ourselves away from the rest of the world for a day or two. We need a mini va-ca.

5. There are things happening at church that have me so excited I can hardly stand it. More on this will come soon--but I just feel really blessed to be in this place at this time.

6. Friends. We've spent time lately with people we admire and love more than words. Some people we continue to get to know on deeper, more vulnerable levels. Other friends, seem to know us better than we know ourselves and they are safe, beautiful ramparts to our souls.

a few things to ponder-

1. let's just say I might have a new job opportunity. I'm not exactly sure what to do with this. Everyone that knows me, knows hospice is my heart. But at the same time, the thought of regular hours, no call, a three day weekend every week is more than a little appealing. but what's my motivation? would the perks be worth it?

2. a stager is coming to our home tomorrow night to walk through it and give us suggestions before it goes on the market. We have been through half a dozen more homes. I'm particularly crazy about one of them but the verdict is still out with husband. :) We will make the big reveal when it's official.

3. family. I feel like I have a block when it comes to this topic...it's just hard to write about...and it's so personal that I don't always feel like I can just put it all out there. It's just this lingering presence. I know all the 'godly' things I'm supposed to think and feel about where we're at and when the time is right for babies but there's dissonance between how I'm truly feeling and how I think I'm supposed to feel. I know, I know. Pray about it, right? i think i'm just tired. With international adoption always tucked away in our hearts, I wonder how long we wait before we get serious about filling all the paperwork out, hiring the social worker, and sending the money in. No real answers, and that's okay; just one day at a time.
I'm working on the whole patience thing. ;)

2007-08-15T13:51:00.000-05:00

oh my. where to begin...

a little debriefing inside my head.

We have a patient who is sustained by a ventilator. I wrote about him before. It was understood at the time of admission that when his disease progressed to a place where he could no longer communicate by blinking his eyes, the ventilator would be turned off...his wishes, of course. Never before have we had a patient who is perfectly coherent but ventilator dependent so this is all new territory for me and for our team as I know it. I really, really like this man and it's been a little much to try and process. This week however, it's become real--decisions are being made and this is no longer abstract thoughts we can push away for some distant time. And unfortunately, it's not some lifeless body we're talking about. There's a man in there who is funny and intelligent and strong.

He's tired. He blinks to tell us he wishes to die; not when he can no longer communicate, like he initially had said, but now. What does that mean? That means his team of health care providers are ethically responsible to carry his wishes out.

I haven't really allowed myself to think about this too much because even as I type I feel this gigantic knot in my throat. I can't imagine. It's all so huge and foreign. To stand there and watch his loved ones say goodbye. I can't fathom that kind of grief. It seems the weight of the air in the room would make it impossible to stand or breathe. And what about him? It takes such courage to stay alive-trapped within the most oppressive prison. But wont it take even more courage to die? To tell us for that last and final time that it's okay...that it's time to turn the machine off?

In living rooms and bedrooms all over the tri-cities, people are saying goodbye. But this is not the same. There's nothing about this that is familiar.

To be clear for those of you who are not in the medical field. This is NOT physician assisted suicide. This is a man who would be dead if not for the artificial lungs that mechanically force breath in and out. Just like you and I must decide if we should want life support to sustain us, he made his decision. Initially he chose the ventilator and it has given him more time to be with his family. Now he is competently making a decision as to whether or not the time is right to let his body do what it tried to do a year ago.

I feel like there are so many dimensions to all of this. I could write volumes but this is about all I can stand to think about for today.

So...not the brightest most pleasant blog in the world but it's the most prevalent thing on my heart today. I'll write more soon--
and I promise to keep it light. :)

2007-08-13T18:59:00.000-05:00

Here's my beautiful friends Jaclyn, Marcia, and sweet little Ava.
(sorry marcia for stealing it straight from your blog! I just loved it that much!)

Marcia just officially got her new business, brightspot photography up and rolling. So, here's to you, Marcia! We are so proud of you for following your heart. If you want to take a peek at her blog/website (brightspot photography) please do! You'll have to check out the galleries. SOOOO talented! I'm lucky that I know so many uber talented photograhers out there! yeah...you know who you are!

I will try to write more in a few days. I've sort of been at a loss the past couple weeks. Kyle's parents are in town right now so we've been running here and there and everywhere. We constantly have full bellies and the home improvement projects that we always think about doing always amazingly get done when they get into town.

more soon!

2007-08-08T16:47:00.000-05:00

(this is for you Becca) ;)
I've been Tagged...

The Rules:
1. I have to post these rules before I give you the facts.
2. Each player starts with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
3. People who are tagged need to write a post on their own blog (about their eight things) and post these rules. (if you don't have a blog, email me)
4. At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.
5. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read their blog.

8 random things:

8. I have a grandma named Olga
(who just so happens to be the cutest little german lady that has ever lived.)

7. I secretly want to be on Broadway and I practice when I'm home alone.

6. I watched the entire 6 seasons of Sex and the City during the 6 weeks after surgery last year.

5. I dream of adopting at least one child from Africa.

4. I like beer.

3. My favorite movie ever is pride and prejudice. (the new version)

2. If I could have any super power, I would fly.

1. I see dead people. ;)

okay...Marcia, Allison, Jacs, Lara, Morgan (miss you!), Chris, Ken, husband...you've officially been tagged. (Luke, John, & Tony-I'm counting on the fact that you've each already participated!)

2007-08-05T18:20:00.000-05:00

Happiest Sunday.

I'm not sure what the weather's been like for all of you who are scattered across the globe but here in our little corner, it's been super hot all week and the humidity envelopes you the second you step outside. I get sticky standing perfectly still. yuck. This is always a little shocking to my senses because you would swear it's frigid outside with how cold Kyle likes to keep the house (a whopping 68 degrees at bedtime). I sleep in pants, socks, a shirt--occasionally my robe, covered with a fluffy blanket and a down comforter while Kyle kicks it in...well, not so much, with the fans blowing overhead.
Ah, married life. :)

Best thing about my day today?
Sitting at a cabin by the lake, talking about everything and nothing. After church we all migrated over to this little oasis on the water. One of our friends from church was baptized and then people hit the lake to tube, swim, or just kick it on the dock. While Kyle-and many others-were flying all over the lake on the jet ski and people were tubing and laughing out on the water, I so completely needed time to just be. Most days I'd be out there too, loving every minute of the waves and the sun and the water. But today, I loved sitting and talking and it was nice to listen to the laughter all around us. Thanks Becca for hanging out-I didn't realize how much I was craving that.

I miss my girls from home so often. I miss those nights at college where I would stay up forever-laughing and talking with my girl allison, even though we'd lived all of our stories together all day long. Today, was a little more of that and it was lovely. ;) Happiest, most peaceful Sunday of the summer so far.

So, here's to another week: More sunshine and evening thunderstorms; more sweltering heat and wearing parkas to bed; here's to that peaceful pause at the end of every day and to the people we're meant to share them with.

2007-07-31T19:10:00.000-05:00

oh, in the beginning, when you were alone,
did you dream of someone like me?
in the beginning, from soil and stone,
when you breathed out a world to be...

did you dream a great dream,
did it glisten and gleam,
for all of the angels to see?

in the beginning, in the depths of your heart,
were you thinking, already,
of me?

-Steven James

It's been one of those weeks already. The kind where I wish I could crawl on his lap; hear his laughter; place my head on his chest to feel the beating of his heart. I hunger for tangible love: eyes that smile and hands that move.

We started a conversation in church on Sunday. We talked about a God who welcomes the vagabond home and how he covers us with His grace and hungers for our real, imperfect hearts. Near the end of church, one brave young woman shared pieces of her heart. Her voice became broken and her head fell into her hands. She couldn't see how beautiful she was in those moments with her heart so exposed and vulnerable. I don't even know if she noticed how her vulnerablity gave others in the room, permission to do the same.

Christ with skin on...that's what we crave some times. A young voice in the back of the room; a beating heart; hands that move.

Vagabonds and prodigals; imperfect hearts.

And yet, He dreams of me.

2007-07-30T15:55:00.000-05:00

Few in number, but mighty in strength! :) Some of our kids from church did a service project at Appalachian Christian Camp. They did a great job; such a big hearts!

2007-07-29T17:31:00.000-05:00

Recently, I met a middle aged man who was diagnosed with ALS (Lou Gehrig’s Disease) 5 years ago. He is dependent on a ventilator because he lost his ability to swallow and protect his airway a long time ago. Today, the only muscles he has any control of is the ability to move his eyes and blink but even that is becoming difficult. One of the most devastating things about ALS is that while the muscles of the body atrophy, the mind stays fully intact.

The day I met him I was a nervous wreck. I know little about ventilators and because of that, I get a bit freaked out by them. Most of our patients are able to communicate with us and those who are unable, typically have some sort of dementia. It feels awkward to talk ‘to’ someone instead of ‘with’ someone. You become acutely aware of your tone…of the pauses…of how ridiculous certain things sound when you’re using words as fillers instead of as a genuine means to connect; which is a lesson in and of itself.

When I walked into his room, I found him sitting up in his wheel chair. There was high tech equipment all over the place-including the very chair he was sitting in so the intimidation factor grew exponentially in those first few minutes. I walked over to him and introduced myself. His wife and a caregiver watched us from the couch. My hands were shaking-I hoped I was the only one who noticed but even if he did, he smiled…his eyes squinted up just a little and the corners of his mouth followed suit. I laughed and said “I’m just going to be honest here…you can probably teach me waaaaay more then I could ever teach you.” And there is was again…a tiny hint of a smile. Yeah, he noticed; he was on to me from the second I walked through the door. ;)

I watched as his wife picked up the communication board. She stood in front of him, pointing at letters, her fingers flying across the board. He communicates by blinking to spell out words. (you have to observe him closely to actually see the ‘blink’ because it’s more like a tiny squint that is sometimes hard to catch.) It was amazing.

Still trying to overcome my bundle of nerves, I asked for the board and had her give me a quick lesson. Then I turned to him and said “alright, consider yourself challenged…give me a word, any word!", and we began to converse.

It was the most exhilarating thing in the world-which I know sounds crazy but it was incredible. He spelled out c-i-g-a-r, which I thought was funny. Next thing I knew we were placing a cigar soaked in scotch into the side of his mouth. He can’t suck on it but he loves it. ALS has got nothing on this guy.

Before I left, with the cigar dangling out of the corner of his cheek, he spelled out “come again tomorrow and we can party”.

And there you have it, I have the greatest job in the world.

Aimee's Story
More Stories of Courage

2007-07-25T16:19:00.000-05:00

One day recently I found myself watching Oprah when Fastasia was a guest. I absolutely love this girl and at the end of the show she sang "I'm here" from the Color Purple. I read the book, I saw the movie...and it resonated in so many ways but nothing compared to how I felt when I watched this performance. There I sat, all alone on my couch, glued to the TV, and as she got to those last few lines of the song, there I was, crying right along with her. I wonder if it's the same in living rooms all around the country...or if there's something wrong with me? ;) Anyway, I loved it so much that I went straight from the couch to my computer, to do a search about taking a trip to New York while she's still performing.

My good friend Luke, who also wants to be a black, soul singing, hip shakin powerhouse, listened graciously as I shared my cathartic Oprah experience. He ever so kindly put her performance on his blog so that I could get a little fix every now and then. (you're the best, Luka!) He was over last night doing laundry and we watched her -- while I cried, yet again. :) Admit it Luke, you were holding back tears--I could see it!! And while I completely love the rendition he has posted, I found my Oprah moment today and decided to share it too. If you get a chance to hop over to his blog click on a tab at the top that has something about performances on it...that will take you to many more listening treasures.

I'm serious about the trip. I think I might do whatever is necessary to get there. Kyle's in, even though I don't think he's quite as desperate to see the Color Purple on Broadway as I am. He's always a good sport! Marcia? Jacs? Luke? Any other broadway lovers? Allison, this obviously excludes you since you fast forward through the songs of every musical we've ever watched together. ;)

2007-07-17T18:22:00.001-05:00

I stole this from Kyle because I love it so much. He did a video for Tina Wilson who is an AMAZING photographer in this area (second only to Rebecca Marr!!) It makes me happy; thought some of you peeps who are far away might enjoy a peek at his work. make sure the speakers are on! hope all is well!!

2007-07-15T17:38:00.001-05:00

Redeemer Olympics!!

Yes, that's right. Today after church we went to the Fooshee's for a little friendly competition. We divided up into teams of 5-6 and spent the afternoon doing three legged races, sack races, balloon tosses and much, much more. It was a really fun afternoon in spite of the sweltering heat. I thought I would post a few pics and I'll try to add a link to the right if anyone who was there wants to see.

We redefine carb loading. The athletes load up before the big games. mmmmm. mmmmm. good.

Our fearless leaders!! (1/2 of our team)

the balloon toss

our cheerleading section

carry your baby...our team gets a point for having the biggest baby! We'll take whatever points we can get!

the thrill of victory

Jim, still celebrating after everyone's moved on...

10 minutes later--arms up--stiiiilll celebrating! ;)

my favorite pic of the day.
sooo funny.

the other 1/2 of our team; pridefully wearing our 'no, you're not a loser, everyone's a winner, medals"

2007-07-11T13:55:00.000-05:00

Happy Birthday Chris!!! We miss you!
Chris and Lara just moved to Boulder--which Kyle and I are super jealous about. BUT, my husband is already planning a ski trip so I guess we'll get a few perks from the new move! Chris, if you read this, have a 'cocktail' for us...Kyle suggests a black and tan. :) SEND PICTURES! We're dying to see the new place! (and besides, this is about the only recent picture I have of you & it's years old--with the exception of the "muppet picture" which has already been posted once, to your chagrin.)

Also, I was a bad friend and forgot to wish Allison and Natalie happy birthdays. Natalie is 1 year old aleady...how is that possible?! Allison came up to visit Monday night and crashed here with Natalie so I get to post a couple pictures! It was my first time meeting Natalie and it had been years since Allison and I were last together. Allison was one of the greatest gifts ever from my Milligan days. I honestly don't know if I would have made it through college without her...it certainly wouldn't have been half as fun or entertaining. As we sat on my couch Monday night eating ice cream and oreos I felt that not a minute had passed since our days as room-mates. She's one of my favorite people in the whole world.

Thanks for coming Allison! We loved seeing you...& we're SO glad that you're living within driving distance again!!

2007-07-05T22:44:00.000-05:00

When I read a story, I like for it to come full circle. I love symmetry; a good lesson threaded throughout; closure; the satisfactory exhale.

At work on Friday, a few of us were talking before going our separate ways for the day. We were having a heart to heart, on our feet, in the middle of the office. Mostly, we were replaying some events that had taken place during some of our visits the day before. As we shared, I noticed that I was having a hard time putting my experience into words. My sentences would trail off into unfinished thoughts. Someone was always there to pick up where I left off-morphing our individual experiences into something we could all collectively understand. Our disjointed conversation took us in and out of various homes. It was obvious to me, as I fumbled for my words, that I was still trying to figure out why I had a need to share-not fully understanding what it was about this one particular visit that had me still 'lingering'.

Because I like stories that come full circle, it's hard for me to write (or talk) about things that may ultimately feel unfinished. I'd like to package my thoughts up nicely-with the ah-ha, 'thanks for reading', moment at the end but I'm afraid this time, I've got nothing. :) So, this is my disclaimer for those that may be along for the ride. This story is what it is; an unfinished thought-a reflection.

Thursday
I walked in and made my way down the hallway, announcing myself as I went along. Normally the home is busy with activity, & the patient rests quietly while those around her do the talking. She smiles; she tells us she’s coping well; she denies pain. Today, she was alone in her bedroom, tucked away on the backside of the house.

I wasn’t even through the doorway of her room and already I could tell the pace and tone with which she was calling to me was desperate and sad. She told me she’d had a rough morning. She tried to nonchalantly nod off her tears as ‘a little spell’ but the tears kept coming.

I crawled onto the bed beside her. She continued to speak, and the tears fell one after another. Her words literally poured from her, filling the room. She clung to my hands. It felt so desperate—her mannerisms; the language and the emotion.

She doesn’t want to die but she knows that she is.
Her daughters keep talking as if she’s going to get better so she smiles and fights for each day and then feels like a failure when she just can’t ‘go’ anymore. She’s scared; for her and for them. She believes, but now when she needs to feel Him most, she feels beyond His grasp-outside His love; abandoned and terrified. ‘Why wont He save me?’

It’s a surreal experience to watch someone desperately cry out to God, ‘Save me’, as death lingers at the doorway. In my two years with hospice, every single time I’ve heard a patient cry those words out to God, the patient has died. Not one, has been ‘saved’.

I think about that as I watch her cry, wishing I could say the things she wants me to. I can’t tell her that I think she’ll get better. I don’t even like to talk about physical healing with our patients anymore-in fact, as she references these very things I feel everything alarm inside me. I know that although He is able to deliver her from this disease, it will likely play out as it has in every home I’ve been in before. One day, and probably soon, no matter how hard she fights against it, she’ll close her eyes and take that last breath.

have I become a skeptic? It's really not a faith issue. The alarms that go off inside me are not so much related to believing God is able but out of a deep and genuine concern that the person will not make the most of the time he or she has left. In these homes where the mantra is "I will get better", families tip toe around the disease, things that need to be said become regrets, and healing on every other level is dwarfed.

I asked her if I could pray with her and she looked at me, startled. Still weeping, she said, “You’ll pray for…me? I didn’t know you could do that.” I explained it’s one of our favorite things to do. And so we prayed. We breathed Him in.

He hears her. I know that He does. That’s the only reason I can bear to see her tears. It's breaking His heart too. Watching her cry and plead leaves this knot of nausea in my stomach--because I know she's scared and I wish we could make it less so. I want her to feel Him in the dark. I believe that today, in this home, on this bed, He’s there, holding her hand. He sees why all of this is necessary; and I would imagine, her tears shine fresh in His eyes.

It was the same in the garden & on the cross. The desperate pleas, the piercing cry:
“Father, all things are possible for you; remove this cup for Me, yet not my will but yours be done”. And then from the cross, “My God, My God, why hast thou forsaken me?”

If anyone understands, He does.
at the end of the day, in all of those bedrooms, that's all I want each patient to know.
it's okay to rest; to say good-bye; to cry.
The miracle has already been done.

2007-07-04T17:14:00.000-05:00

I'm reading a book right now entitled Hebron Journal, by Art Gish. It was recommended to me by our friend, Paul, who is presently volunteering with Peace Brigades International. The men and women in such groups are trained to go into areas of intense conflict to provide peaceful accompaniment/presence to those who are threatened as they try to carry out humanitarian efforts or to those who are oppressed; simply trying to go about their daily lives.

Art Gish writes that those in his team stand on the side of whomever the gun is pointed at. I'm discovering that sometimes this is literally true. This type of presence involves intense relationships with all sides of the conflict. They work with both Israeli's and Palestinian's.

I know even as I write this, using words like nonviolent peacemaking-stirs something in people's souls. I'm guessing that many people might not even read another word because it doesn't bode well with them. It's true that the author's insights are at times different then my own, and in my opionion, this is all the more reason to read!! I'm curious. I want to know what he has to say, afterall, here was there, on the streets, in the middle of intense conflict, putting his life on the line. Here in lies the whole point of the book: Listen. Lay it all aside and take it in, digest it.

There is much I do not understand. I confess almost total ignorance with regards to the complicated conflict that takes place in these specific regions. But one day recently, I asked Paul if he would recommend a book that I could read to 'open my eyes' and this is the book he suggested. He said he relates to many things the author describes...which is sobering and heart breaking to say the least.

Art begins his book by writing:
...When we engage in serious dialogue across the lines of culture, gender, class, race, and religion, our whole beings are challenged. As we listen to each other and engage in deep conversation with those who are different from us, we have to either grow or retreat. When this happens in the context of putting our very lives on the line, the possibilities for growth are greatly increased. With all the conflicts everywhere around us, the opportunities for engagement are everywhere. We can retreat and put up walls of defense, or we can engage in difficult conversation and struggle with those who are called our enemies, with those who are different. To engage in the struggle, armed only with faith, hope and love, is a wonderful opportunity. It is too good to turn down.

This world is not so big. Opportunities for engagement happen every day to varying degrees no matter where you live. I can't imagine standing in front of someone knowing I may bear the bullet that was intended for them. I can't imagine hearing gunshots and fighting and running into the heart of the conflict. I can't imagine initiating conversation with someone who is hot with anger and rage. And yet, people do this very thing every day. They go to prison; people spit in their face; they are called every kind of obscinity.

I'm not paul and it is probably most unlikely that I will ever find myself in similar shoes but his testimony and that of this book challenges me to listen. To ask questions; to seek understanding. I'm beginning to see why the news is littered with stories about Palestinian suicide bombers; I also am beginning to understand the sufferings of the Israeli settlers. Both sides are wounded which is something we all know a thing or two about.

What makes me bristle? Who is difficult to love? Wounded people exist within my community; my church; my family. It's just a reminder to listen and to engage. To 'put on love'.

I can't imagine that Paul will ever read this but if you do, please pray for him.

2007-07-04T17:04:00.000-05:00

HAPPY BIRTHDAY LORI!!

We hope you are having the happiest birthday ever-and that your day is nausea free! ;) It was SO good to see you this past weekend. We love getting to hang out with you guys any chance we get. Give our girl a little love from us...
wishing you the best!!

2007-07-02T19:01:00.000-05:00

Happy Birthday Mama Kitty!!

First and foremost, a shout out to wish mom a happy birthday! Happy birthday Mom! Wish we could be there to celebrate with you. I want to see you in your celebrity, hot mama glasses. ;)
Mom had eye surgery last week, and let me just tell you, I could blog an entire entry on that alone. Too funny. The anesthesiologists could NOT knock her out...which is pretty amazing for someone who's 90 pounds soaking wet. Rumor has it, the doctor would come back in the room after giving her the sedatives and he'd hear "I'm stilllll here...". And then once the clamp was in place--holding her eye WIDE open...her eye was equally as obstinate and wouldn't be still. It jerked and jumped all over the place. Ohhh, mom...the stories.

We had such a good weekend with Kyle's family. Sometimes little, impromptu trips are the best. We were terrible and didn't take hardly any pictures of the family or of Riley but she's beautiful and growing so fast! The BIG news of the weekend?!? Kyle and I are going to be an aunt and uncle for the second time!! Yay! Another little one to love! Congratulations you guys. We love you!!

a more serious side of our girl...eating playdoh.

tom had an event Saturday night-he biked with 4,000 others at midnight along Indianapolis city streets. Very cool!

And THEN, this morning, we got the call that Emily and Jody had baby Grace!

Emily should be the poster girl for pregnancy, labor and delivery...amazing! We went to see them once we got back into town tonight and I thought I would post a few pics. The images are grainy because I didn't want to use my flash and blind her sweet face. I love this family with all of my heart. She's beautiful you guys--in every way.

And so, that's it on this end...at least for now. Wishing all of you a wonderful 4th of July!!

2007-06-29T21:10:00.000-05:00

Kyle and I are heading out of town tomorrow morning--an unexpected trip!--but I wanted to post a few pics of the home we looked at today. I'm sure you're used to us by now--you've endured this before but we are really loving this home. Not exactly in the location we originally had in mind; not exactly the number of bedrooms we hoped for; but everything else is beyond our hopes/expectations. This is mostly for our family who are too far away to do the walk through with us.

**a word about the builder--AMAZING guy who looks about our age. He's incredibly talented and has literally built this home from the ground up. His heart is in every detail. He is disabled so the floor plan is usually open and spacious.

front of the home: the view faces west--sunset is rockin

the back...the home is on one acre--very wooded lot

living room

Kitchen...(dishwasher never been used)

Master bedroom

as if I wasn't already sold, this bad boy is in the master bath.

2007-06-24T17:51:00.001-05:00

Rediscovering you.

After church today, kyle and I decided to drive to Roan Mtn. As we were on our way, we realized it was the weekend of their annual festival--which just so happens to be where we went and what we did on our very first date, 7 years ago!!

The past few months, in the world of the Long's, have been an adventure all unto their own. In more ways than I could ever express, we are truly in a place right now where we are rediscovering each other.

It's no secret that Kyle and I are wired in completely different ways. We express ourselves differently; we process things differently; we learn and abide and grow in different ways. Because of that, it hasn't always been easy to understand each other. Over time, as what often happens with those with whom we are in close or familiar relationship with, we often neglected to pursue; to ask questions; & to seek understanding of each other.

Recently, fueled by some activities at church (like the strengths finder survey, etc) we have sort of accidentally stumbled into this new awareness of each other and it continues to surprise and amuse us, almost on a daily basis. It's been this God given breath of life into our home and into our marriage. I can't explain it completely, but I'm starting to get him. I know, I know. Theoretically, I should have 'gotten him' a long time ago. I guess it's that "Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus" syndrome. These days, I'm beginning to truly feel how his heart beats and it makes the love and respect I have for him grow. Somehow, I think he's beginning to get me too. How do I know? Because I feel understood--and it's the most validating feeling in the world.

The other day I was sitting downstairs at the table all alone, TV off, not doing anything. He came around the corner-laughed and said..."party going on up there?!"
Yep.
Just like usual--only now the secrets out.

Today before our trek up the mountain, I realized that once again, for one more month, we are not pregnant. When my eyes welled up with tears and I lost my words, he got it. He put his hand on top of mine and said all the right things. And suddenly, I didn't feel so alone.

It ended up thundering and lightening shortly after we got to the mountain. We went down only a few little trails, took some pics and some stock footage for Kyle's video production, and then high tailed it back to the car. On our way home, the rain came hard and fierce--like sheets pounding the windshield. Inside, with the IPOD pumping out music and Kyle putting up with me singing loudly and poorly, I felt unusually full, undeservedly blessed.

2007-06-20T18:18:00.000-05:00

This is belated...but happy birthday to two of my most favorite people in the entire world. Gina and Jason--I miss you both waaaay more then I could ever say.
Love you both.

ps. Gina--those photos were hilarious and beautiful!! I'm so glad you have your sister back. Did she LOVE Argentina?!? Wish I was there celebrating with you!

Gina and Karen

Jason and Justine

2007-06-17T12:06:00.001-05:00

"fairies and butterflies; church and the beer tent"

Yesterday I had a makeover. I laid on my belly surrounded by barbies and let a 5 year old scrutinize my skin and nails. She decided a manicure was a must. On one hand she carefully selected the color of each nail. My pinky would be purple, my ring finger hot pink...then a swirl of blue-green-orange...etc. The next hand was a project unto it's own. When the last splash of color was brushed onto my final finger, I found the courage to look down. A rainbow manicure would have been something, but the entire top third of all of my fingers were a siren of colors. There's no staying in the lines when you're 5.

Next, was make up. Body glitter was the order of the day. She glammed up my arms and put sparkly lipstick on my lips. I was sure one look at me and Kyle wouldn't be able to restrain himself. Once our makeup was complete (we had to match) we went downstairs for our tea party. I'm pretty sure I've never had a tea party before so I had to rely on her for instructions. First, I was to go to the pantry and pull out 4 marshmallow peeps (2 for her, 2 for me). Then we microwaved them to get them all soft and huge. Sitting at our little pink table we had our party and she giggled the entire time. With full bellies we adjourned from the tea party and made our way to living room and a mountain of barbies.

I've never really been good at the barbie scene. I didn't have many barbies of my own as a child because the only thing I knew to do with them was their hair, and it didn't take long for that to get boring. But this particular afternoon, we were creating a story as we went along...I followed Joci's lead. At one point, she lifted up her barbie and said in a loud, booming voice, "Attention all fairies and butterflies..."

It was then, with that one simple statement that I realized how blessed I was to be there, on the floor with my 'come get me' make up and my glow in the dark hands. I was transported to a world of make believe--and it had been a long time since I'd peered at anything with the eyes of a child. This is a little girl who believes she's a princess when she puts on her princess dress and crown; who delights in tea parties and colors outside the lines. So beautiful!!!

When I came home looking a bit hooker-ish, it was hard for Kyle to believe anything that profound came out of our time together. Kyle and I went to a fancy place for dinner (by way of a gift card) and I sparkled, literally, over candlelight.

Switching to a completely unrelated topic, this morning I was on the phone with mom. We were talking about a relative with the nickname "sug"--like sugar. (His last name is Cane...seriously, my family is not right. His daughter goes by "candy"--no joke). Anyway, mom was telling me about a recent fall that he had. The story went something like:

"Well, it was Memorial day and they had an event outdoors at the church. It was really hot outside so Sug stayed in the beer tent."

I'm sorry. Did she just say 'beer tent'?
at church?

The story did not end there, in fact it was just getting started. She was already on to describing his fall, (which allegedly did NOT happen from one too many) but as she continued talking, I was still back in the beer tent, kicking it with Sug. There was a time in my life when that would have seemed normal to me, too, but let me just tell you, I fear those days are long gone. Church functions in this part of the world simply do not have beer tents on the front lawn.

hmmm...Jim, John, I think I just found my talent!! ;)

2007-06-15T19:43:00.000-05:00

This past week I got to co-lead my first youth group experience. Everyone laughs at me when I say this but I'm telling you, I was ner.vous. I had visions of really bored girls, with really blank stares-nodding off and drooling. Me, in the circle, droning on and on...and on. Completely out of touch. Misery.

I'm not sure if you remember what it was like to be 14, but I most certainly do. I remember adult's saying "these are the best years of your life" which, just for the record, is exactly how not to validate your teenager. :) (and no, my parents never said such crazy things) Looking back now, there are certain freedoms of my teenage years that I appreciate but the truth is, those were the hardest years of my life. Someday I hope to articulate that so much better but for now that's all I know to say. I felt like I had two lives and I was good at living them both. I know I was a bit of a paradox to those under my roof and I'm sure I perplexed those who wanted to get inside my head.

As a teen, who didn't read her bible and knew very little in the way of Scripture, youth group was the first place I ever heard that whisper "He loves you". Over the years, it became a constant, recurring theme. There were moments when those words seemed to get inside my heart: camp, Campus Life trips, etc. For a few minutes, a night or a week, I would really, truly believe it. He loves me. How desperately I wanted it to be true. I loved that youth group was fun, safe, and full of activity. I loved that my best friends were there and that we made some significant lifelong memories. It wasn't long before we became student leaders. I was passionate about the people in our group; I talked the talk; and I wanted to believe it but I'm not sure I ever really let those words be true.

So now I'm 28. My moments of experiencing God are becoming a bit more frequent but in so many ways, I still feel like that student leader. The cry of my heart-almost on a daily basis is to spend time with Him but I don't always know how to get there. Hungry-that's how I feel. Sometimes I open up my bible and flip through sections of it-barely letting my eyes focus on the text; not knowing where to start or what to read. Sometimes it's just a bunch of words that feel as if they were written for anyone other than me; a different time; a different place. And then there are my moments. The times when those very same words get inside my heart. The times when every hidden piece of me feels like it's sprinkled through the pages. The times when I know it to the depth of my being...He loves me. I want nothing more then to be captivated by Him. But thus far, in this life, for whatever reason, I am still fueled by moments--this is not the place I abide in on a daily basis. Sometimes I feel like I'll always be that girl who never truly gets there--as much as I want it to be true. A good friend asked me last night "do you think it's possible to experience Him like that here (in the flesh)?" And my answer is yes. I do believe that; I can't imagine Him creating us to live any other way.

So Weds. night I was nervous. Not so much because I worry about what our girls think about me but because I remember what a tender age this is for them. I remember that things are not always what they seem and I want them to believe they are loved with a love that redeems. I want more for them then moments. I wonder how God can use someone like me to help young women grow when I still feel so very young and foolish in the ways of Him. I wonder if it's to their detriment that I'm still hungering...still longing...still seeking much in the way that I did over a decade ago?

Well the good news for my first study was that it was a very small, intimate group and it felt a bit like family as we sat and chatted. There was laughter folks and no drooling insofar as I could tell. ;) My pastors daughter, who's 7 (?), sat with us and she participated probably more then anyone else. I'm thinking if things don't work out for me, she'd be a perfect replacement. :)

2007-06-13T20:41:00.000-05:00

Oliver is sick.

Yes, for those of you who know me at all, you know what this means. This stresses me out waaay beyond what is normal. It started out as allergies. Harmless enough right? Wrong. He can't breathe and he walks around the house gasping, sneezing, and struggling. Oh yeah, and let's not forget to mention the diarrhea that he's left for us to find around the house. The gag reflex comes on hard and strong for me-which a new thing for this nurse. Our first vet appt was two weeks ago when they put him on steriods. Didn't help. This past week he had chest x-rays...and now takes steroids, bronchodilators, an antibiotic and an antihistamine. Kyle said "don't tell me we're going to have one of those dogs"...as if we didn't already fall into that category before illness struck. ;)
Poor little guy.

Kyle got to take a ride in a friend's helicopter yesterday. Yeah, work is tough...I managed to steal a photo and I know he'll post more on his blog if you want to see more. He was super excited.
Loving work, as usual!

And then, last week we went to Cinema on the Lake. Every Thursday night in June they play a movie by the lake at dusk. We had never been to it before and last week we met up with some friends to take in the show. I was exhausted so I don't think I appreciated it for all that it was but it's definitely one of those happy summer things that people/families do together that becomes a lasting memory. Good stuff.

I could write loads more but Kyle is itching to get on here so I'll close for now. Take care sweet friends!

2007-06-03T13:29:00.000-05:00

Living your strengths.

Kyle came home one day recently and handed me a book given to him by Jim. I flipped it over a time or two trying to size it up. Being a lover of books, especially of those that claim to get inside your head, I decided to give it a go and opened up to the first page:

This is what I read:
The Gallup Organizations's 2002 national study of congregation memebers revealed that most people (53%) do not strongly agree with the statement:
"In my congregation, I regularly have the opportunity to do what I do best".

Page one and already, that one simple statement stopped me.
"in my congregation, I regularly have the opportunity to do...

Growing up, at least in my early years, there was always the small handful of do-ers...and then there was the rest of us. ;) Church was a quiet, passive place. A place to sit and to stand and to pray with your eyes closed. People didn't know my name much less care what skills or gifts I might have. And honestly, I was good with that. Personally, I didn't care much about the woman beside me either. It wouldn't have even occured to me that I should be doing something. At confession I told my sins to the priest behind a screen so that he wouldn't have to look into my dirty, sinful eyes. :) I definitely got the vibe early on that there was nothing 'megan' brought to the table in a religious or spiritual sense.
My place was on the pew.
eyes closed.
Fortunately these things changed as I grew a bit older and started to attend a different church but nonetheless, it is a reality for many.

The second part of the statment: how does what I do best apply to my "congregation"?

What does that mean exactly? I guess I define 'what I do' by my chosen career and I feel nearly 110% certain that my congregation doesn't want me sending them off to meet Jesus every weekend. (Don't read too much into that...yes, they all want to be with Him and walk the streets of gold but, let's be serious) I'd have no friends at all. The problem? I'm not even sure I know how to answer, when asked 'what is it you do best?'

I do know that I don't sing, don't teach, I'm not great with organizing events--or at least I wouldn't know for sure because I haven't ever tried. The truth is, for as much introspection as I've done I'm still a little perplexed when it comes to applying the things that make me, me, to the benefit of a church body or community. I have a good handle on my weaknesses. The things I wish I could be, do, or say.
Which, according to this book is how most everyone operates. You might agree.

So I read the first chapter and took the strengths finder tests. I was surprised. And just the fact that I was surprised, surprised me. I thumbed through the book and read about a few other strengths (the ones that I didn't get) and found myself getting jealous. Again, seeing my weaknesses in what might be another's strengths, wishing I was something 'other than' instead of me.
What is that?!

Today, after church there was a little lump of us who were standing together talking about this book and the test. It was fascinating to listen to each person talk about what their strengths were. There was a buzz; an energy to the conversation and I walked away feeling excited about all that is to come. The wind is blowing; could it be possible for each of us to truly do what we each do best? The next few chapters of this book are application; what I wonder, will that look like?

Obviously we don't take these tests to give ourselves a self righteous pat on the back. No one is interested in knowing one's strengths or skills just for the sake of knowing. Rather, the purpose of any of this--the book, the test, the conversation is to propel us out into the world, to serve others and to honor Christ with our lives and our ministry. What you do best, is different from me. And for once, I might be okay with that. ;)

2007-05-28T20:12:00.000-05:00

This past Saturday, Kyle and I took some wedding pictures for our good friend, Kari. She used to be Kyle's running buddy & friend at Milligan-but she's grown to be a close friend of both of ours over the past 5 years. She was married at her parent's home and it looked to me, like something out of Southern Living magazine. Very intimate and unbelievably beautiful. Her parent's home rests at the top of a hill, surrounded by mountains. Kyle took some awesome pictures but I'm afraid I'm only able to post some of mine--maybe his will come later. :)

Sunday we hooked up with Luke and some friends to play out on Boone lake. I laughed all afternoon long-about everything and nothing. We likely blinded people with our pasty white bodies, and it's a miracle we all made it back to land fully intact. good times.

Today was a leisurely, lazy day. We fired up the grill for dinner tonight and I couldn't help but miss my family. We've been blessed with a lot of amazing friends in this part of the world, but these are the days that feel like they are just meant to be shared with family. There's just this little lingering ache in my heart, brought on by the smells of the grill and the sunshine.

Tomorrow is a big day for us. Tomorrow, we officially put on our big people panties/boxers and step into the grown up world of child rearing. I have literally grown up surrounded by kids, I love kids, I've wanted to be a mom since I said "I do" and yet, tonight, I confess, nervous energy is beginning to pulse through my veins. I'm sure I'll have plenty to blog about once our week is through.
Rebecca, you are my "person to contact in case of emergency" person. ;)
No pressure.

Hope all is well for those of you far away.

2007-05-20T16:24:00.000-05:00

A few highlights from the weekend.

Em's baby shower: Kelli and I threw Em a shower on Saturday morning. It was another georgeous day so we got to spend some time outdoors and Emily looks amazing with 6 weeks left to go. She's due on mom's birthday so I've suggested she name her baby girl, Kitty. For some reason she's not commiting to that right now. ;)

Saturday night Kyle and I went out to eat and then we picked up a movie. Since the weather is unbelievable Kyle wanted to watch the movie outside, on the deck. Soooo, we piled up the blankets, lit some candles and camped out on the deck to watch the movie. I do wonder what our neighbors think about us. We know we're dorks. We're okay with that. Next time I think we'll have to invite them. We had fun and as long as I've lived here, I've never admired the stars from this corner of Copper Hill.

Sunday-off to church and then over to a couple's home for lunch. Kyle and I are going to be babysitting/house sitting for them at the end of May so we wanted to meet the kiddos and get a feel for their home. This is the first time Gary and Stacy are getting away for a week since moving here. Kyle said to me this afternoon, "don't you think it's crazy that this is the first time they're getting to go on vacation and they're trusting their kids with us ?". Nice. Nothing like being confident going into this. ;)

And then this afternoon we also finally got to go to an open house for a home we've been obsessing about. From the street, we both are in total agreement that we love it...love the style, the colors, the neighborhood, the trees, everything. The inside though, needs a LOT of work. It's 1980's to the core and honestly, there's not a room that doesn't need work. Structurally, the home is sound but...we'll see. Jim played the role of dad for us today by being so kind as to come and crawl in crawl spaces and check out the wood siding/roof, etc. So Jim, if you should read this, thank you. It may not seem like much to you but you have no idea how much that meant to us. We are most grateful for our TN family. :)

2007-05-15T21:10:00.000-05:00

With the window cracked a couple of inches, just enough to let the breeze sweep across my face, I weaved in and out of the mountain roads. Sandra McCracken and I were singing a duet loud and carefree in the car. The sunshine was warm on my face and I was relishing the fact that I get to enjoy these things while 'on the clock'.

I turned down a dusty, country road and took a quick peek at my directions. I was getting close. I saw the silver mailbox 'with the door that hangs open' and turned into a narrow gravel drive. Directly ahead of me, stood an old, white house. I looked again at my directions and felt a flutter in my stomach. The home looked as if it should be vacant. I slowed the car and put it in park. Three young kids were already out of the house and running wildly, like excited kids do, towards my car. As I turned the engine off, one little girl was already peering in my driver's side window and two other faces peered intently at me from the other side. Their little expectant faces were covered in dirt.

I got out and was immediately surrounded. They examined everything in my trunk and asked a hundred questions. They were excited and ran to the house yelling ‘the nurse is here!’ I stepped through an open door and smiled my best smile as my eyes slowly focused to the dim light. This old, tired, wilting home was nothing more than a frame. There was nothing of substance to fill it. The home was barren. The floors covered with dirt. The kid’s appeared well nourished but there was nothing in the home I could see to eat, except for a couple of bags of potatoes. They offered me what they had. I wondered if I would be so generous if the tables were turned.

The kids were happy. They talked about growing up to be nurses and doctors and the little boy dreamed out loud about growing up to be a bull rider. As I wrote my note they circled around me and tried to make sense of my scribbles. They touched my hair and played with my badge. It wasn’t unlike my experience in Africa; in fact so much about this visit took me back to that place. One of the little girls gave me a hug, and then the little boy rested his head on my side. They were hungry.

I'll never be able to articulate how it feels to stand in these homes. I'll never be able to describe how these hour long visits change our lives. Because they do--they change everything. In that home today, I was surrounded by laughter and curiousity and love, and yet I was a smile away from my tears. Not because I pitied them-which is what initially stirred within me when I pulled up to the home but because they possess treasures I do not. They were beautiful, this family hidden away in the mountains with little more than a roof as their shelter.

I drove away, my car bouncing and kicking up gravel along the driveway, with three little faces singing goodbye in my rearview mirror. Hope, personified: more beautiful then the sunshine; more refreshing then the breeze.

2007-05-12T14:51:00.000-05:00

Happy Birthday Marcia and Ava!!
We love you guys!!

Ava, one year later.

2007-05-08T12:54:00.000-05:00

“Give us the grace to
admit we are ragamuffins,
to embrace our brokenness,
to celebrate Your mercy when
we are at our weakest, to
rely on Your mercy no
matter what we may do.
Dear Jesus, gift us to
stop grandstanding and
trying to get attention,
to do the truth quietly
and without display, to let
the dishonesties in our
lives fade away, to accept
our limitations, to cling to
the gospel of grace, and
to delight in Your love.”
~ Ragamuffin Gospel

Ragamuffin, I am. The quote above has been my prayer for a couple of months now. I guess I'm hoping if I say it enough it will begin to sink in. :) Oh, to live quietly and without display. To cling to grace and to delight in His love. Such is the place I pray grace will take me to.

Full.

that's how life has been lately and this is exactly how my heart feels as I sit and type. Our days are full, our weeks fly by, but there's a quality to living lately that seems to make everything brighter. I'm learning to appreciate the fullness of the people in our lives. I'm learning, contrary to what I've believed to be true, that this type of fullness does not make one weary; it enriches and satisfies.

Today I met a woman from church for coffee. I've never had a heart to heart with her alone before and it was surprising at how easy it was to be with her. It completely made my entire day. And so it's been lately with the people around me: adults and children; people I've brushed shoulders with but never really slowed down enough to know. Women of all ages, hopes and ambitions. Their energy is contagious.

I write with a grateful heart. I know who I am, what I deserve. And yet the sun shines, flowers grace the porch, we enjoy a meal by candlelight, under a canopy of trees. I am surrounded by people who bring depth and beauty into this world. His hands and feet. Ragamuffins.

2007-05-01T16:39:00.000-05:00

Our weekend was the best because we got to see this little face for 4 whole days!! If only we could get a dose of her more often!
Jim, Lori, and Riley came to visit this past weekend and it was sooo good to spend some time with them. We grilled out, went biking on the greenbelt, rocked out to the veggie-tales (something I thought I'd never see my brother in law do!!) and ate until the point of nausea on more than one occasion. Oliver did way better with Riley then I ever hoped. He was all packed and ready to be shipped off to camp but he suprised us! No traumatic humping episodes like last time (although I dare say he considered it a time or two). Our little guy is growing up. haha.

Once upon a time, Jim and Lori didn't think they would have kids. And now we have Riley which is the best thing that ever could have happened. She's so funny with her independent personality-vocabulary of a 5 year old-and a disposition that allows us to drag her anywhere. We talked a lot about who she gets what traits from...& so far they don't have to do any finger pointing. Not yet anyway.

Being around her all weekend caused kyle & I to wonder a bit about what personalities our kids might have should we ever have any of our own. Thanks to my brother, we already have visuals of how mutant-like they could look. :) We're convinced we'll have little monsters-especially in light of how amazingly good Riley is.
From my gene pool alone we have the following things floating around, just waiting to crop up in our off-spring.

the X factor:
We all know a certain woman in my life wears animal print and leather. She paints her nails hot pink, and has a collection of shirts that carry sayings on them which forces parents of small children to divert their kids' attention and to shield their eyes. She loves drama, uses the phrase "it's all about me" and vacations with cruises and trips to Vegas. There's occasional snorting with laughter. She blasts country music so loud it gets her into trouble with the golf association. She has a ring on every finger and they clink when she talks in her animated way.

the Y factor:
My dad likes to mount animals on the walls where the pictures of Chris and I used to be. We're not just talking birds either...oh no, there's deer, bear, & mountain lion. Interior design may not be his forte but he makes a mean fish soup (yes, if that just made you gag--welcome to the club). We have more pictures of him and his brothers in camo then in any other atire. He has this disease where he absolutely cannot simultaneously watch TV and carry on a conversation over the phone-on in person. He 'vacations' to the woods or on the lake, or up in a tree stand. He IS Wisconsin...all things that represent that frozen state are among dad's favorite things.

chris and I: It's been said that we bribed our cousins into jumping out of tree houses and barns when we were little. We both drove illegally (only one of us was smart enough not to get caught). We picked, and fought and screamed at each other all the time swearing hatred but inwardly loving every minute of it. One of us threatened to call social services to report emotional abuse for having to take piano lessons--which clearly, is abusive on many levels. One of us also wrote a letter begging our parents to trade the sibling in for his/her best friend.

So there you have it. That's what I bring to the table. :) Look out baby Longs!
Funny thing is, it's all good. The animal prints, the camo, the attempts to bribe our parents into getting a new and improved sibling. We like it just the way it is. Always something to talk about...

Riley will likely always be the golden child.

(more pics from the weekend to come).

taking a bath

Cracking herself up.

2007-04-23T16:53:00.000-05:00

Celebrating Life Cancer Free!

I've mentioned that I work with some amazing ladies (and gents). :) Well, to offer proof I thought I would enclose some pics from today. Jackie carries many titles, some of the most important being wife, mother, daughter, friend. However, it's also worth mentioning that she, too, is a hospice nurse & cancer survivor. She oriented me when I came on staff and I saw very quickly how much our patients loved her. They welcomed her into their homes' like family; she'd love, kiss and joke around with them like she was nothing less. Jackie was diagnosed with breast cancer when her boys were very little but in spite the fear, the chemo treatments, and the sickness, she continued...to hope, believe, pray and live one day at a time. With a bald head, and a smile, she'd do her visits. I may be slightly biased but, truly, isn't she amazing?

5 Years ago, to date, Jackie received her diagnosis. To celebrate how far she's come, & the sheer gift and blessing of life, she decided to donate the hair from her first cut in 5 years by giving it to locks of love. We gathered together today at Design Studio to cheer her on.

Jared does the honors and makes the first cut! (sorry it's blurry-I came in just as he was about to do it so I fumbled around to get the shot...and you can tell!)

Locks of Love donation

The full celebrity treatment from Sam

Hot mama flip flops to go with hot mama hair!

Jared gives her a kiss

Sam, the stylist, and Jake and Jared

Love you, Jackie! You're amazing, my friend!
Cheers! ;)

2007-04-20T13:53:00.000-05:00

Sissy and I : Celebration of Life

So, I've been out of the loop for a while! My goodness, have things been busy!! I know I'm disconnected when I get phone calls checking to see if we're still breathing...or, just as amusing, threatening our lives if we don't call back. The latter approach has proved to bring about the quickest turn around time. :)

Let's see...updates. Home improvement projects have been kicking our butts. We have found lots of little things to update before tackling the big stuff--like landscaping the side of the house. It never fails that the seemingly simple, undaunting tasks turn into gigantic headaches when all is said and done. Nonetheless, it feels good to walk around and see some progress.

Last night we had our annual Celebration of Life. It's such an amazing night. Not only do we get to see families of patients that we miss but I also always find myself looking at the people I work with, feeling completely grateful for who they are. We are soooo different; seriously, in every possible way we are different. There is not one person in our team who is like the other and our differences amuse and entertain us constantly. We laughed a lot last night--the kind of laughter that stops all other conversation in a room while people turn to see what's so funny. The kind of laughter that makes people lose their fake lashes. Sooo funny. It was good to laugh; to celebrate; and to have genuine peace with the families of those patients who have passed away. Dont get me wrong, we did the ugly cry a time or two also, but as I drove home I was full of this happy sort of peace. Sissy and I were volunteered by our cohorts to get up and talk for a few minutes during the service. As is typical Meg's, I was full of nerves but thankfully, they quickly passed as I looked out into the faces in the room. It really felt like family. I told a couple of stories: one about our youngest patient from this past year and one about one of our oldest. On my left arm, I wore a bracelet made for me by the little girl. Her parents were sitting almost directly in front of the podium and it was so good to be able to look them in the eyes and tell them what a ministry they had in their home. Strongest, most amazing parents I have ever known. And that little girl? She is riding a horse in heaven, I'm certain. That's exactly where she told us she would be.

A few photos attached of my hospice ladies.

giving patty a little love

Marlene and Connie

2007-04-10T19:15:00.000-05:00

Kyle has the coolest job ever.

Guess who else might be headed to Africa?
I know I just got back. I know I shouldn't be jealous. But while some of us have to fill out applications, search the internet for possible opportunities, and pay lots of money to go, kyle gets these amazingly incredible opportunities that seem to fall straight from heaven.

He'll know much more at the end of the week but if you have a minute, check out this video that tells a bit about who he'd be working with: horizon video. The website for this agency is www.horizoninternationalinc.com

There's so much going on in our hearts since my trip so I can't even put into words how exciting just the mere possibility of all this is!

We'll let you know what happens!

2007-04-07T21:25:00.000-05:00

It's the day before Easter and the weather here is crazy. As I was leaving the house this morning, the driveway was covered with white patches of snow and deep purple patches of flower blossoms from our trees. Our irises that were just about to bloom appear to have bitten the dust. Not my fault this time!! We even kicked back with a fire in the fireplace this afternoon.

Tonight we had dinner at Jim and Karen's. I'm beginning to know my way around their kitchen and they don't mind if we 'make ourselves at home'. At any given moment throughout our evening together there were kids running through the house-shrieking with laughter in pursuit of the new puppy or cat; a fire crackling; music serenading; coffee brewing; a dog barking; & adults conversing around the kitchen table. the makings of family. Tonight as we were getting to know a new couple for the first time, we all asked lots of questions to one another. I could listen to people's story's all night long. Especially these people. We laughed a lot and I learned a great deal about where each person comes from. Sometimes I wish I could not say a word; only listen. Do you ever feel like your story will bore people to tears? :) I feel that way sometimes. (and no, I do not need anyone's encouragement--I know we all have our stories...blah, blah, blah...but you've felt this way, too, at some point-I'm sure!) Tonight? Tonight, when conversation began to grow roots, I had this overwhelming and perplexing feeling that I was going to cry. Right there at the table, seemingly, for no reason! I almost couldn't talk--and I was not about to tear up around new people for fear that I'd acquire some sort of 'unstable' label from this day on. :) It was all I could do to answer a few questions-and distractions, like a barking dog or inquisitive children were a relief. It gave me a few seconds to re-group. Even when we got in the car and were driving home, the lump was still in my throat. Hormones? Fatigue? Or fear? I could probably make a case for all three but I think tonight I felt what happens when walls come down, chip by chip.

"Today is Friday, but Sunday's coming." We've been quoting that a lot in our office this past week. It's a phrase dripping with hope and truth. One Friday, the only one in history that truly matters, Christ hung on a cross and the weight of his death must have hung, so thick and oppressive in the air. But Friday had to be everything that it was, so that Sunday would come as promised.

With new life & fresh hope for those who believe.
happy easter sweet friends and family!

2007-04-02T18:39:00.000-05:00

Happy Birthday Grandma!

just a little update.

It feels like summer in this part of the world: All the trees are blossoming (including the mean poison ivy that grabbed me by the ankle and plagued me for a couple weeks) & the birds have resumed their place on our bird feeders. We've been outside tonight pulling weeds with the hope of doing some serious landscaping in a week or two. I always miss our neighbor Rachel this time of year; I wonder if she'd be happy to see us outside in her garden or mortified at what it's become, despite our best efforts.

Kyle is loving his work. He's been consistently busy with all kinds of different projects. I'm thankful. For many things, but mostly for who he is, for where we've been and where we are today. He also does a mean rendition of the song 'unwritten'-which wows me into...hmmm, shall we say, awe? every time. :)

We are, once again, house hunting. Brace yourselves, I think this time, it's for real. :) I was all set to settle in to our little home for a couple more years but after lots of discussion, we are checking out what's on the market. We want to get our house ready with updates and landscaping over the next 2-3 months and then, we'll see what happens. It's exciting! Lots of dreaming and planning...I like to live "in my head" so I LOVE running around and looking at homes. One thing we've realized as we've driven around, is that we are finally completely on the same page!! I know. AMAZING.

Work for me, continues to be my heart. It was a sad week last week-we've lost a lot of patients recently who meant a lot to us. They brought in a counselor one night last week just to have a debriefing session with our team. It was nice to hear my co-workers thoughts. No longer is turn over a big problem; no longer are there any significant conflicts. I feel like we've really grown as a team...and it's satisfying to go through work with a group of people I respect so much.

Church is becoming a more real, significant part of our lives. (I know I talk about my faith and church and God a lot and if I'm redundant, I apologize. But I'm afraid I can't promise to stop because there's bound to be more, it's such a reflection of where we are right now.) I wish I could articulate what I see/feel happening in and around me but I'm still mulling it all over. On Sunday, John mentioned that this summer we will be encouraged to really dig deep into the lives of people in our community. My stomach flutters even as I type. I want so desperately to be challenged in that way. Sure, I could go there on my own; but the truth is, I haven't.
It's time.

And so there you have it.
Our life in a few paragraphs.
We hope all is well on your end!

2007-03-27T18:14:00.000-05:00

Last week I read by way of email, those dreaded words, “she found a lump”. I filed the words away because some things just can’t be true. My brother informed me that last Friday was the date of the lumpectomy, including a biopsy of her lymph nodes. Again, I couldn’t bring myself to call. No news is good news, right?

Growing up Chris and I, became permanent extensions of this family. We spent our weekdays, holidays, vacations, and sick days under her roof. She had 4 kids of her own-all older than us. They were my idols growing up…I permed my hair to look like theirs, I did my bangs big and stiff just like theirs…I memorized lyrics to the songs they loved. It was fun to be with them-and somehow they always seemed to make room for us.

She delighted in us: in all of her ‘kids’. She’s the kind of person who cries at commercials; or at a simple homemade card. She’s a person who always put herself last-and never complains. Laughter always comes easy. She makes a big deal out of seemingly little achievements. I remember, at 14 years old, standing at the top of her stairs after I found out my grandma died. I had that shell shocked sort of look-even though it was anything but a surprise. My grandma was my best friend but I wanted so badly to appear okay. That day, she did all kinds of little things to make me feel special. She knew what I needed when my heart was sad. Sick days? Throwing up? Strep Throat? All of those illnesses were remedied in part, on her couch.

Today, I bit the bullet and picked up the phone. I knew it would be okay-it had to be. And much to my relief, the news was good: the cancer is not in her lymph nodes and the surgery removed the mass, whole. She’s about to start radiation and hormone therapy but I have a feeling she’ll walk through it with the same grace she’s known for.

It had been a long time since we talked; too long when it comes to someone who means so much. And when I hung up the phone I realized there was so much I didn’t say. So this is for you, Nancy-for your heart, your strength, your tenderness and your courage.
We love you!!

2007-03-25T18:22:00.000-05:00

..."building His kingdom with earth's broken things".

Did you know a squirrel can run 26 miles per hour? Me neither, until church this morning. We learn all kinds of glorious truth at Redeemer. :) Jim began his message this morning by saying "God has given you unique gifts that make you, you. When you do not show up, we miss you."

we miss you?

It's been a long time since I've believed that to be true when it comes to corporate worship. But this morning, sitting as one part of the whole, I could tell that he was serious; he meant what he said. He didn't look away-instead he locked eyes with some of us as if to say, it's true. I looked around the room, at many individual faces, and was struck by the fact that I knew some significant pieces of the stories represented by each person present. I could identify a gift of nearly each person my eyes rested upon. I know these things about each person not by my own merit but because we have been encouraged by those leading us to ask questions of each other, to listen, to show up. As a result, each person matters not just to our body, but to me.
We need each other. It's true.

I get scared sometimes in this new body. I don't know why. I'm praying we'll become that city on the hill. Sparkles of light all over our town and world as we launch each other out. I pray that the people who come to fill the seats in our gathering place will reflect the same people Christ ministered to while he walked among us. He's building His kingdom with earth's broken things.

So it's true that the squirrel can run 26 miles per hour. And that a chameleon's
tongue is twice the length of it's body. It's also true that I was challenged and blessed by the message today, and by those who used their gifts to lead us in worship songs, I was blessed by the art that was created during the message, and by the hugs of a sweet little girl. And that's just the beginning.

For by the grace given to me I say to every one of you: do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgement, in accordance with the faith God has distributed to each of you. For just as each of us has one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, so in Christ we, though many, form one body, and each member belongs to all the others. We have different gifts, according to the grace given to each of us. If your gift in prophesying, then prophesy in accordance with your faith; if it is serving, then serve; if it is teaching, then teach; if it is to encourage, then give encouragement; if it is giving, then give generously; if it is to lead, do it diligently; if it is to show mercy, do it cheerfully. Romans 12: 3-8

2007-03-19T17:20:00.000-05:00

On any given day, I do the same routine assessment on each of my patients. We go over each body system...making our list of things that are in need of some tweaking with regards to meds, etc. We also spend a great deal of time talking with patients about their psychosocial/emotional/spiritual needs. Most of the time, our patients or their families could talk for hours about how they feel; in fact, often this is the part of the assessment that takes the most time. It is rare that people have little or nothing to say-which is why sometimes our experiences with the latter, can be the most profound.

A few weeks ago--or maybe even longer then that--I asked a man if he was hurting...to which he told me,'no'.
We went through each body system:
Are you eating? Having difficulty sleeping? Problems eliminating?
Again and again, he replied a simple, but profound, 'no'.
We then moved to the psychosocial/emotional/spiritual questions.
Are you anxious? fearful? sad? hopeful?
No...no...no...and, no.

Believing him to be a man of very few words and not in the mood for such an assessment, I began gathering up my things to leave him in peace. It was then, at the last minute that he whispered, with his eyes closed,
'I'm a bundle of nothing'.

I wasn't sure, at that moment, what to do or say--or even if a response on my part, was necessary. In some ways it was as if his silent thought just slipped out, unaware of the echo it would make in the small room. His few whispered words took the breath right out of me. I sat down and stared at his rising chest; his pink cheeks flushed with life. He exists; barely, but with his mind fully intact. He is existing in that lonely place where he no longer feels human: no purpose; no joy; no pain; no eating or drinking to sustain a body that will not function.
A bundle of nothing.
Or, so he states.
What, I wonder, would that be like?

No one has ever used those words before to describe this phase of life & maybe that's why his words struck me so.
There was a profound sort of truth in his simple statement and yet I wanted to tell him, 'no'. I wanted him to open his eyes. To feel. To breathe in life. I wanted to use my words to convince him-nothing, he is not.

But something told me he didn't want my words or any other feeble attempt to convince him otherwise. It might have made me feel better but my words would have likely sounded desperate and empty to him.

And so we sat, quietly, in silence. Me, lost in my thoughts about what it must be like to be him. Him, existing between breaths; between the pulsing beats of his heart; hovering above the bed yet still confined to it. Waiting for his release; unaware of how great his living presence filled the room.

2007-03-14T17:42:00.000-05:00

a gift from kyle's parents...a little bit of happy

Tom and Marcia by the Smokeys

best buds...haha.

a toast to end my dreadful day

the sunset from our yard

2007-03-08T22:46:00.000-05:00

Tonight was ladies night. The instructions were simple: dress in comfy clothing; bring your favorite nail polish, a bath basin for the pre-pedicure soak, and a towel.

First thing first...
get home and do a quick shave up to the knees so that if I must roll my pants up, no one will be mortified. Second: find my favorite nail polish. Quite simple, considering I have one lonely bottle...one lonely, clumpy, 3 year old bottle-which for this night only, will bare the title of 'favorite' because it has no competition. Third...the bath basin. This proved to be most challenging. Kyle and I stood in the garage and surveyed our options. There was the cooler-our red, trusty sandwich and drink toting cooler which was about the right size but I was sure I would be terribly ridiculed. Then, there was a tall tuperware container that holds all of our paint supplies. Too much trouble. We settled on a smaller tuperware bucket...it wouldn't exactly fit both of my feet at the same time but considering my options it seemed the most worthy choice.
Last but not least, i was ready to tackle the subject I am most familiar with: "wear comfy clothes".
10 minutes later, I stood before Kyle clad in my pink furry slippers; bright green hospital scrub pants, and in my beloved gray, red lettered wisconsin t-shirt. With my not-so-pedicure friendly bucket, & my expired nail polish in tow I could tell he was struck silent by the 'woman' in me.
yeah. i'm positive that's what it was.

I arrived at church and sat in the parking lot, wondering if I was at the wrong place. There were a lot of people on the main floor that I didn't know and I was beginning to second guess my wardrobe selection. I called Kyle to confirm: yes, yes, I was in the right place...which could only mean we were meeting upstairs; past the people. right, then. I got out of the car, grabbed my bucket and gave myself a silent pep talk: Walk like you are proud of the slippers; own the slippers, Megan; afterall, it IS spa night.
I ever so nonchalantly breezed through the front door, smiled, and flashed my bucket as if to say, "it's spa night, please don't judge me".
I, then, scurried upstairs.

My ladies were gathered together in a small room, pants rolled up, naked feet at the ready. There, resting in the middle of all the spa luscious activity, in the midst of yummy lotions and scrubs and high tech foot soakers...sat a blue cooler. Someone's chosen bath basin.
Suddenly, my slippers and I seemed to fit right in.

As she soaked her feet unapologetically in the cooler, I borrowed a new shade of polish and let spa night, in all of it's glory, soak in. There was a place for each of us in that small circle of ladies. Those with the high tech soakers, soaked alongside those with the buckets and the one with the cooler. :)
We were women-being women; without apology.

2007-03-04T14:41:00.000-05:00

Today I was asked to say a few words to our church body about my experience in Ethiopia. The questions were basic; no big deal; nothing to get stressed about and yet, I had no idea how to answer a simple, simple question:

What did you learn?

Is it possible that I hesitate to answer the question honestly because in doing so I sound like a girl with no roots? Is there some sort of spiritual measuring stick that I am afraid of not measuring up to?

I remember with crystal-like clarity the moment in Ethiopia when I realized to the depth of my soul, 'we are nothing without Him'.
Nothing.
And while that may not be profound to some of you, it was to me.

In theory I should have believed that long before the trip. As profound as the truth of that statement is, it's a basic prinicple of believing in Jesus. However, despite years of calling myself 'a believer', and for as much as Scripture tells me that it's true, I have created a lifestyle for myself based on seeking the approval of others. The 'Megan' in me wants to believe I have things to offer of my own merit. But why? Why do I need to believe I have worth apart from Him? Where does that come from? Pride? Fear? Sin? Why do I strive and struggle to be someone I am not...and that I never will be?
Isn't it enough to know that I am His?

It used to bother me soooo much to hear people talk about how they, as human beings, are nothing apart from God. I didn't understand how that sort of thinking could honor Him...after all, we are His, right? It felt somehow wrong--like they were beating themselves up for something they couldn't help or even worse, that they were being falsely apologetic. I see that differently now. I'm glad we are nothing without Him. The truth of that doesn't make me feel like an unworthy, good for nothing person. On the contrary. It makes for the greatest love story ever.

I'm learning that it's hard to believe a God you don't know. It's hard to stand for anything different than the status quo when the approval of others is how one measures her worth. It's hard to know who you are, and where you're going if 'you' change depending on who you're talking to. Bottom line, I'm learning the only reason I fight to make a name for myself is because somewhere deep inside I'm not believing He is who He says He is...or that I am who He says I am. I am unwilling to trust Him because I don't know Him-I haven't spent my time alone with Him. My unbelief has been great; my heart distrusting; my time with Him undisciplined and wavering. Is it any wonder?

It took a sea of people, a crowd of upturned hands and pleading eyes, sickness beyond my comprehension to be stopped dead in my tracks with the utter realization that it's true. He is all that matters. We are not enough. I needed that illustration to be that huge-that real-for me to get it. If it would have been anything less I would have believed myself and others as capable of meeting those desperate needs. When the truth of something like that gets inside your heart, it changes everything. You can sit in a room with someone in a foreign land, without a common language, with significant cultural barriers and still relate on the most basic level.
You can breathe easier.
We are not enough.
We are children in need of a Savior.

We lack His power, His strength, His love, His grace, His compassion; & His heart by will of His great design. It is good that we are not enough...that's supposed to be freeing!! It is good that it is not about me, or acts of service, or appearances of any sort.

So maybe it's that simple. I'm learning: to be still, to spend time with Him, to believe Him, and that He is not just enough; He is exceedingly more.

(thanks morgan and duane for these photos! )

2007-02-28T11:30:00.000-05:00

Well, after 10 solid days back on US ground, life is feeling a bit more like my own: might I even say, a bit better? :)

I love toilets that flush...and the throne with which to rest! I enjoy the luxury of brushing my teeth with water from the faucet...and that with one reliable turn of the nozzle, water comes out...every time. I am loving that my amoeba friend who took up resident in my belly appears to have surrendered to the antibiotics. Oh, the list could go on and on. Not because I didn't love every bit of Africa--I loved it more than I could have ever dreamed but simply because I needed fresh eyes and a realigned heart. Even over the basic, nonessentials of living.

Two random things I want to share:

Forever and always an Andrew Peterson fan, I loved his most recent journal entry and I thought some of you might too. So if you have a second click on the link below. Just further evidence of why he will always be my most favorite musician, song writer, and author...even if it's by way of his blog. :)

The Tick of the Clock-Andrew Peterson

And for the ladies out there: At Christmas I got this purse that was hand-made by Hands of Hope. I'm enclosing a link (just click on hands of hope in the previous sentence) because I love it that much. (thank you Milzareks!) It was my constant companion on my recent travels and now that I'm back I'm still loving it for every day stuff. It's simple; small; definitely Megs...not so much Kitty-(haha) but nonetheless, for kindred spirits out there, I think they make incredible gifts. If you go to the site, it's hard to tell by the pics just how beautiful the fabric is, you'll just have to trust me.

I copied a small blurb from their site because its worth noting who they are and why they exist:

Hands of Hope is a sewing business that aims to provide former commercial sex workers and other at-risk individuals in Cambodia further opportunities to build new futures for themselves and their families. Hands of Hope began as an extension of House of Hope, a Christian rehabilitation center located in Kompong Cham Province. Hands of Hope is a part of the ministry of InnerCHANGE, a Christian order serving among the poor.

Hands of Hope has created sewing and handicraft jobs for graduates from the House of Hope program. The anticipated goal is that each seamstress will remain an independent contractor and will successfully run her own small business sewing and creating Hands of Hope products. Through this, each woman will achieve an improved quality of life for herself and her family.

Good stuff.

2007-02-25T15:14:00.000-05:00

Last Day of Clinic
The least, the lost, the last.

…back at clinic for our 8th and final day. Morgan and I were told that we could triage 100 patients that morning. After a break for lunch we would then try to see some of the pastors and their family members who were not able to register due to the conference. Our plan was to be completely done seeing patients by 3:00 pm, pack up the supplies, and go to bed early so we could leave at 0400 for the game park and some African wildlife!

Oh, how plans change.

As Morgan and I were triaging the last two patients that morning, I couldn’t stop thinking about the people waiting outside the door. I wondered what their chief complaint might be…how long they had waited…did they come from far? Hasn’t someone told them yet, that this is it? Why do they still sit and wait: patient; hopeful; expectant? As we sent the final two on their way to see the doctors, I closed the triage door and accidentally made eye contact with what would have been patient #101. As Morgan and I packed up our stethoscopes and papers neither one of us spoke. It wasn’t until the triage door closed behind us that I realized she was crying too. We linked arms and did our best to move forward through the people; our eyes fixed on the ground in front of us. I wasn’t about the make the mistake of locking eyes with someone else.

Self protection. Even after everything, I couldn’t look the people who were left waiting, in the eyes. The thing is, no matter what...whether we were there 1 week or 2 weeks, there would always be one more. And I cannot tell you how awful it feels to walk by...to look away.

At lunch, I didn’t have much to say. We were out of jelly so I couldn’t tell if the lump in my throat was from the tears that were walled up within me or from the peanut butter that just wouldn’t go down. One of the clinic workers spoke with a member of our team. She didn’t think it would be wise to bring the pastors in to us, with people still behind the gate hoping to be seen. To avoid any risk of rioting, they made the decision to allow 50 more patients—a combination of local people and the pastors. And so, that afternoon, #101 came through the triage doors after all.

Just as were closing up for what would in fact, be the last and final time, I stepped outside the triage room and was met by a small crowd of men, one yielding an AK 47. “Sister, sister, please. This man is seriously ill”. I looked down and there was a man, lying in a make shift stretcher with a blanket covering his face. I kneeled on the ground beside him, and removed the fabric. He was emaciated and hot to the touch. I could tell by his appearance that he was indeed dying-likely from AIDS-and while I knew we could do very little, I had them follow me to the treatment room. Unlike hospice patients in the US, there were no morphine drops to offer him for comfort. Instead we gave him a few liters of fluid with hopes that it might lower his fever and make him more comfortable for at least a short period of time. Through the aid of our interpreters we learned that he was a prisoner-hence the AK 47. We offered to pray with him, and he refused. And so, we waited while the fluids trickled in. As I sat on the bed beside him, Scott looked at me and said, “it’s ironic, isn’t it, that he’s our very last patient.”
Since day one we were reminded by our director over and over again of why we were there…to serve and love the least, the lost and the last.
He was all three.
But I wondered what his cup of cool water looked like.
Maybe it was enough just to sit in silence.

As we finally packed things up late that day, I again, felt void of any and all things. Later that night I would become sick…the plans to go to the game park would be put to rest…no 0400 departure. thank you, Lord! But things were stirring in my soul. I craved the very thing I came to offer.

2007-02-21T16:58:00.000-05:00

One last slide show...

2007-02-20T19:11:00.000-05:00

“Weepy Monday” 2.12.07

The weekend came and went quickly. Saturday we ran the clinic and we continue to triage about 200 patients a day. Apparently, without our knowledge, the crowd got a bit wild the other day, and the police were called in for crowd control. The result is that the crowds that used to hover near the triage door have now been moved away from us, behind a gate. Time will tell if this is a good solution. It feels wrong to have them out there-away from us-for we came to engage and connect.

Sunday, we went to church. Morgan, Ryan, Ben, Yeong, and I went with Pastor Jack. There were times during the praise and worship when I felt joy to the deepest part of my soul. Freedom; this is what it looks like—this is how it feels. I know that might not be true for everyone but for me, if I could free myself from all of my self imposed rules of conduct regarding worship, this is what it would look like. Some people might say that it's over the top; that it's showy...not me. I know these people dance and sing and celebrate because they are in the throne room--and He is worthy. Showy? Showy is when I close my eyes and lift my hands when my heart is far away and cold. Showy is when my public displays of worship or praise exceed what I do when I'm alone and on my knees.
One woman pulled out a huge drum and the whole room was filled with the most amazing music and dance. I thought of my church back home…they would love this.

Now, for today and the title of this entry. Scott has, in my opinion, appropriately coined the phrase ‘Weepy Monday’ for the Monday that follows the first full week of clinic. He should know—he’s done this a time or two before. From what I can gather, this is the day when even the most stoic of men become, well…weepy. Fatigue settles in, the meds begin to run low, the bodies grow deep. When I penned the title of this entry it was just a name for the day. Now, I’m afraid I have consecrated the day and made it official.

It is, indeed, weepy Monday.

I have not been emotional thus far on this trip. In some ways, that’s bothered me. I expected to be overcome. I’ve held countless babies with their little bodies ravaged with disease and in those moments, with my eyes upon their faces, I find myself so detached. "How can I feel so little?" I wonder as I look at them. Especially, when I’m a girl who normally feels so much? I’ve definitely had my moments…but that’s just it. I’ve had moments. And, few of them, at best. I expected to live in that real, raw place every day. I came with the desire to be broken but in reality I feel...okay.
or maybe that's not an accurate statement.
I don't feel okay. I feel void; which is so unfamiliar-almost unsettling to me.

After Clinic today, we all piled onto the bus and our driver took us on a “scenic drive” towards home. Or so we thought. To our surprise, a group of pastors planned a surprise certificate ceremony for us. There, in a tiny, brightly painted room in the middle of town, we gathered together. As the sun began to set, casting long shadows into the room, we took our turns cheering one another on 'Ethiopian style'. To my left, through the empty hole of a vacant window sill, curious little faces strained for a glimpse into our festivities. The night was full of energy and joy. As the evening drew to a close the pastors said they wished to pray for us—and of course, we desired to do the same for them. And so, we placed our arms around each other. We did not stand side by side, linked in a prayer circle but rather, we morphed into one tangled web of flesh and spirit. Male, female; black, white; sitting standing; singing, silent. A chorus of English and Amharic filled the room. In this tiny, yellow room in the middle of Yabello-under a big African sky and in the presence of an even bigger God, the room filled with music. And power. I felt the hair on the back of my neck respond to the Spirit in the room. The first tear hovered, threatening to slide down my cheek. I dared to open my eyes and then it was hard to close them. Two tribes of people; covered in grace; broken but free. I realized in those moments, that one of the things I am most called to do is to pray for this band of believers in this forgotten (by the world) little town. Our mighty warriors-few in number but great in strength, courage and power. I often say that prayer is necessary-that it’s important-but do I really believe it? Does my life reflect that? Not hardly. After that one lonely tear paved it’s way down my face, the tears came hard and fierce. I am void, no more; but still perplexed for I don't even know why I cry.

A silent video of Morgan with the kiddos:
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A silent video of the crowds waiting to be seen (wish you could hear the audio...funny!)

2007-02-19T06:42:00.000-05:00

Mark 1:29-38

And when evening had come, after the sun had set they began bringing to Him all who were ill and those who were demon possessed. And the whole city had gathered at the door. And He healed many who were ill with various diseases, and cast out many demons; and He was not permitting the demons to speak, because they knew who He was. And in the early morning, while it was still dark, He arose and went out and departed to a lonely place, and was praying there. And Simon and his companions hunted for Him; and they found Him and said to Him, “Everyone is looking for You;” And He said to them, “Let us go somewhere else to the towns nearby, in order that I may preach there also; for that is what I came out for.

Day 1 of Clinic 2.5.2007

We arrived at clinic and found a crowd of people gathered by the building where we would later triage patients. They waited patiently as our team dispersed and set up each of our individual areas. I was nervous. After all of the stories I had heard about previous trips all I could think and silently pray was “please, God, don’t put me in triage…anywhere, but triage.” I had heard one too many stories about the escalating tensions of the crowds and of last year’s triage nurses having to jump out of a window to get away from desperate people. That day, as we gathered our supplies and set up, we got our assignments. “Megan and Morgan” (drum roll please), you two will be in…
triage!

Funny, how that works.
And so, Morgan and I, the two newbies, took our respected places in triage. Thankfully, the day went smoothly. No jumping out windows. No gun shots to quiet the crowds. Just a peaceful day. At the start of the day, 500 people were ‘pre-registered’ by the clinic to be seen by us. As we closed up shop at the end of that very same day, the number was 1600. Word obviously travels fast. Even in Yabelo.

As the day progressed, we saw a lot of non-specific aches and pains as well as parasites, viral infections, and sick, sick babies. I got my first taste of the local EMS services: people came by way donkey, or make shift stretchers, or even in the arms of others. I saw the face of AIDS in adults and in babies. I’m sure it’s true, that much progress has been made in Africa regarding awareness and preventative teaching but it’s still very real and rampant, killing generations of people; it is still wrought with stigma; and leading officials still try to sweep it and it’s victims, under the carpet.

At the end of clinic today I was feeling overwhelmed. If I’m honest, maybe even a bit angry. Definitely, I was feeling disconnected from myself and from God. From time to time as we worked today, I found myself staring into a sea of people; the sickest people (collectively) that I’ve ever before seen. I began to feel almost as if we were teasing them with our team of health professionals and our meds. They don’t know, I thought silently, that we can only give them a months worth of medication. They don’t know, we can’t make the serious stuff go away. Someone needs to tell those who are walking miles-or for days-to turn back. That it’s not worth it; that there’s nothing we can do.

And then, just when I needed it most: the devotion for today. A cup of cool water to a thirsty soul. Mark chapter 1. Sam read the above scripture to us and emphasized a few important truths.
1. Christ healed many, when with one word He could have healed them all. Instead he chose to heal some, one on one; with compassion and love.
2. He took time away to be alone and to pray. Even in the midst of desperate needs and many desperate people He took time to be alone with God. He chose to connect when it might have seemed inconvenient-or possibly even seemingly less important than healing the sick.
3. As the people and the needs multiplied, Christ makes the decision to leave that town and to travel to another. Why? To preach the Good News…”for that is why I came”.

Today, I mistakenly and pridefully saw myself as a nurse-and my team, as a mere handful of medical professionals. I got preoccupied with treating the physical manifestations of disease. I was overwhelmed that we could not rise above the need; that we could not catch our breath for there were too many out stretched hands. It’s no wonder I became discouraged, disillusioned, angry. I am not God; a glaringly obvious truth but despite it all, I seem to frequently need reminding. God, I am not, but I am His: chosen for this time and this place-and He is a God who is big enough to heal all with one word. He may not; we may come and go at the end of these two weeks and barely make the tiniest dent in the way of physical disease, aches and pains. But hopefully we will leave the fragrance of Christ. And hopefully we will be vessels that can be used to touch lives for eternity.

We are here as disciples of Christ. We are here to love. Above all, and if nothing else, we come to proclaim the Good News. We have nothing to offer these people that’s of any consequence apart from Him. So let the people come; I was mistaken. Don't let them turn back. We come by the grace and power of His Spirit to offer a cup of cool, life-giving water to desperately thirsty souls.

2007-02-18T17:24:00.001-05:00

thanks to my tech savvy husband, we were able to post a few photos. There are many, many more but that took much longer than I first anticipated. :) So, the rest will come later. If you were on the team, and do not see your face--it's coming, I promise! Along with a link to snapfish.

I've talked a lot today...so much that I can't muster up the words right now to write about the trip. Maybe tomorrow. :)

In the meantime, here's a glimpse into Ethiopia.

2007-02-17T19:53:00.000-05:00

Just a brief note to say we made it home, safe and sound. I will post pictures and journal entries over the next few days. It was the most incredible trip; full of amazing people.

After 4 days of travel this is one weary girl so for now know that your prayers, notes of encouragement, and love made all of the difference.

It's good to be home.

more soon. megs

2007-01-28T15:33:00.000-05:00

Daily Prayer Guide for Ethiopia Medical & Pastoral Team Mission 2007
Yabelo, Ethiopia - February 1st to 17th

NO NEWS IS GOOD NEWS!! We will not have access to email or phones so I'll write more once we get back. Thank you all so much for your phone calls and notes! God bless!

2007-01-27T16:29:00.000-05:00

Ethiopia!!

So many people have been asking questions about the trip--which is wonderful, thank you! It's now days away-which is so hard to believe! Until recently, the most inteligent thing I've been able to utter in response to most questions was "Mmmm, I'm not really sure". The fact that I've known so little, really hasn't bothered me-which is shocking to some of you, I know! :) I have this incredible peace; it goes beyond packing lists, medical supplies, politics and fears of getting sick. I know this trip is beyond anything I can conjure up in my mind so it's easy to just go with it...especially when you know so little!

Over the past couple weeks I've received frequent emails from Sam Molind, our team leader and the medical director for Global Health Outreach. The following is an email I received today from him. Please click on the link he provided and it will bring you to an article about where I am going. It was written in 2002--which sounds terribly out-dated but he tells us the climate of the region is very much the same. I will post again soon with the prayer guide he emailed us. Please pray. I've realized in preparation for this trip, that the very same fervor with which we pray about the details of this mission should be no greater and no less than the way we approach prayer in our daily lives. It's not about one mission trip; or acts of service; it's not about taking up a cause for a day or a week or a year. It's not about how loud you shout about the issues. In fact, it's not about us at all. We all have the same purpose and mission-whether we are waking up in the US or in Africa or anywhere else. Nothing of consequence in our daily living is possible without His Spirit.

Here's an excerpt from the email. Prayer guide to come soon!
love, megs

Ethiopia Team,
Here is a report from 2002 on the area where we will be serving in Ethiopia. It is still a forgotten and destitute area with needs that are of such a great magnitude that only the Lord can provide.
Yabelo, Africa-article

In the Yabelo Health Clinic some progress has been made now there is intermittent electricity and some running water and few more clinic workers. Love and compassion are something that they have not seen in this forgotten area - especially the love of Christ and so they may not respond to our efforts as we would expect. Often they can develop the mob mentality with a fear that they will not be seen and that this may be there only chance. And yet we may see some of the people carrying their family members or friends for care.

2007-01-22T10:17:00.000-05:00

Editors note:

it seems I was mistaken. Last night, as we watched the Colts play, something happened to my husband. It started with some loud shouts of disgust during the first 1/2 of the game. He was not in a good mood. No love for wifey; not at all amused by her ploys to get his attention. And then it happened somewhere at the beginning of the second half. Kyle got the crazy eyes that I've seen in the men of my family while growing up. He was on his feet, he was yelling at the boys; he was cheering, pacing, complaining of 'tension in his neck and shoulders'.

And then, the heavens opened up, God smiled down--the Colts had it in the bag-they were officially super bowl bound! Kyle had been standing for the last 3 minutes of the game but then to my amusement, he started a victory dance I didn't know he had in him. There he was, shaking his rear end at the TV, clapping and carrying on like you wouldn't believe.

My heart swelled with pride.
The Roehrig clan's got nothing on him.

2007-01-21T16:37:00.000-05:00

GO COLTS!!

So, I may not qualify as a die-hard football fan. Actually, I'm far from it. In all fairness, I do rank higher than many-especially with regards to the ladies out there but it's not really the football that gets me revved up. (which completely disqualifies me as a true fan, I know). I'm all about the food and mood. Today, I will pull on one of Kyle's big oversized colts sweatshirts. I'll grab the coziest blanket in the world and I'll curl up with husband & stinky on the couch. Kyle's made some chili in anticipation of the big game and we have wood to burn in the fireplace. mmmm. Doesn't get much better, does it? A friend or two may join us--and company is always something to smile about.

Now this is different then Packer games at Grandma's. There's not as much racket with everyone yelling and clapping (or, occasionally cussing) at the TV. The spread on the dinner table is not nearly as varied or as tantalizing to the tastebuds. And sadly, there are no big, thick white flakes falling from the sky-which is what is happening in my home town today. But, the mood of the night is delightful--just like it always was on game day in the frozen tundra.

I'll play the part of a football fan for the rest of my days. it's just that good.

2007-01-15T22:49:00.000-05:00

“So, tell me why you’re here.”

Staring down at my feet, I tried my best to formulate an answer. I squirmed a bit in my seat knowing that he was waiting for my response. I felt swallowed up by the oversized chair I was sitting in. The office was dimly lit in an attempt to make it feel less threatening. Nonetheless, I felt like a child in the principal’s office. The room had the distinct, mildly nauseating air of a clinic. My mind was reeling and I felt my heart pounding in my chest.
‘Why am I here?’

Generally speaking, I'm a 'glass half full' kind of girl. :) However, a number of months ago, the world felt terribly dark and I wanted to hibernate day and night under the covers. It was unfamiliar territory for me. I was sad but I didn’t know why. I dreamed, and talked, and wrote about freedom because it felt so terribly far away from my reality. Like a caged bird dreaming of open air, I longed to get out of the prison I found myself in. It was as if all of the painful parts of life were catching up—threatening to overtake the false sense of peace I created in my heart. And while the solitude of the covers felt safe, I hated being alone. I wondered on a daily basis if I would feel this way forever.

So, one day I found myself in that room, sitting on that slick, oversized chair, wishing I could be swallowed up. ‘why am I here?’ On day one, I simply followed orders. “Go see a counselor” occupied a single line on a script of things I ought to do in order to feel better. And so I went, dragging my feet-staring at the ground, feeling somewhat ashamed. But as it turns out, I was meant to be in that chair and every day I've returned since then, I’ve gone in pursuit of something greater.

I know many of you are very much aware that this has been part of our journey over the past few months. Not typically the type of thing one blogs about…right? The thing is, it’s been good. Not fun, not painless, but real...and real, is good. The door to that lonely cage has opened up and now I feel like I’m sitting on a threshold. Soon the time is coming where I will make a choice: leap or retreat. This girl wants to test her wings.

“Slow down Child. At this pace you will not be whole. Wholeness takes time with God, letting Him bind us up from the bruises and bumps of inevitable living.”

It’s amazing how we slap band aids on bleeding wounds and leave them unattended, to heal on their own. Eventually, the band aids aren’t enough. You can go to all of the counselors in the world, you can share your story with a handful of others, you can cry and make resolutions to do better or to be better but if you don’t get on your knees and let Him have your broken, sinful heart, you’ll always be a dreamer. Freedom will always elude you. Wholeness takes time with God. Period.

I’m thankful for that stiff, uncomfortable chair; for compassionate counselors and friends who pray. I’m thankful for medicine which promotes sleep and takes the edge off of my grumpiness. (cheers to that, right, Kyle?) But above all, I’m thankful for a God who meets us where we’re at and that He doesn’t allow any of the above, apart from Him, to take away the hurt.

2007-01-12T20:39:00.000-05:00

Jane, Karen, and Lindsay

Rebecca, Tony, and John

Jim and Kyle

2007.

To bring in the New Year, Kyle and I spent the first part of the evening gathered together with some friends from church. Everyone brought a dish--and now our new friends are very much aware of my domestic challenges when it comes to cuisine. Fortunately, for them, no major flops but our relationships are just beginning so they've been warned...it's only a matter of time. :) It was fun to be together. Much like our community group, there's love all over these people. We ducked out early and headed to the house to have Ryan and Tara over. When the ball dropped we raised our bubbly and standing with the three of them, I was thankful, again, for the amazing people God has put in our lives.

One side note: Not to be left out of the festivities, my 12 pound always out of control dog, managed to scale the heights of our counter--pull a plate of shrimp down--and inhale 18 jumbo size shrimp with shrimp tails intact. I was sure we'd be visiting the local vet for a small bowel obstruction but once again, he survived. 2007 might be prove to be his last.

Since then, Kyle's been to Texas and back and somehow, the first couple weeks of the New Year have gotten away from us. Neither of us made any big resolutions...only because I've yet to keep just one. However, I want to be intentional about my days. I've forgotten so much of 2006 but I know our days and moments are not lost. One day we will be reminded.

Cheers!

2006-12-31T15:33:00.000-05:00

Recently I sat in a crowded auditorium, snuggled up against Kyle, listening to a Christmas concert by Andrew Peterson and friends. It's the most amazing show to be a part of. If you've been to one of Andrew's concerts you know it's not about the lights or special effects or even the people singing. It's about Truth & passion in the form of song.

Sara Groves was a featured guest this particular evening. There was a tremendous amount of talent that quietly took the stage over the course of the night but she told a story and sang a song that I cannot seem to forget. Sara described being inspired to write a song entitled "Why it Matters". She wrote the song after learning about a man who lived in a war torn country. She told us that every day he would get up, as war waged around him and he would take his solitary place on the street. While destruction ensued all around him he played his cello, day after day. It was his peaceful protest: a thing of calm beauty in the chaos; a bit of life among the dead in spirit. After sharing the story with us she went on to sing 'Why It Matters'. The song references the man and his music but uses the symbolism of a tall statue that stands like a pillar in the center of town. It was the kind of song that takes you to a different place. As I sat in the auditorium that night, I felt like I could see the silhouette of this man playing his cello on war torn streets; with shattered buildings and shattered lives in the streets around him. For some reason this song penetrated every bit of my being. What motivated him to get up every day to take his solitary place on the street? Does one man and his cello bring peace to his war enraged country? Does his song make the slightest difference in the grand scheme of things?

As the story plays out Sara sings, "with it's protest of the darkness; with it's beauty, how it matters.
How it matters."

Since that night, I've listened to that song countless times. For whatever reason, it's become personal. One man gifted the world with his song. In the midst of our mountains and sunsets, the flowers and the rain, war rages around us and within us; the temporary and eternal clash and chaos is all around. But then there's that person-or persons-who seem to bring light into our lives-- into the dark. Some teach, some create, some build, some sing, but our lives are meant to be light; protests of the darkness; a constant melody.

I want my life to be like that of the man who made music in those war torn streets. I want to be motivated by His Spirit to get up and to go out, day after day. Did one man's music affect the outcome of the war? Not likely. But I bet it mattered to different degrees for those who were close enough to listen. Maybe it calmed them or comforted them; maybe it even gave them hope: a thing of beauty in the darkness. I believe his music mattered to the One who placed the song in his heart. And much like the man and his cello, we too, are called out-each with our different gifts and our different stories to bring beauty and music into a broken world.

Stand apart; shine like stars; sing.

"Like a single cup of water, how it matters.
How it matters."

2006-12-25T21:20:00.000-05:00

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!

ahhh. It's been that kind of weekend.

It definitely didn't look so promising when we decided to head north for the holidays. Kyle's mom spent 1/2 the week in the hospital terribly sick with the flu or food poisoning. Tom, Kyle's step dad, spent a couple days in the hospital room right next door to her recovering from surgery on Tuesday. Riley, our niece, had her first bout with the flu this past week. And Jim, our Brother in Law, followed suit. Needless to say, we thought we were a little bit crazy when we packed up the car (with our sanitizer in tow) and headed toward the land of sickies. Fortunately, everyone was feeling a bit better by the time we arrived. We got to Kyle's parent's at 2 am on Saturday morning and were back on the road headed in the direction of home Sunday afternoon. Once upon a time, I might have said it's way too much traveling for such a short trip but this was not the case. It was so good to be together. If only I could bottle everyone up.

With that said, a piece of me was with the Roehrig clan at Grandma's on Christmas Eve. I missed the laughter, the caroling, the paper fight, the feast and the football. Another part of me was in AZ watching movies with mom. It's hard having those that we love so far away. If only it were possible to be in 4 different places at once.

Today, Kyle and I spent the day together. It's our only Christmas that I can remember where we had absolultely no agenda. Friends ever so graciously extended invitations to join them but today felt like it was made for just the two of us. And it was good. All in all, it's been a weekend that's been full of the things we most love and we wish all of you, the same.

Happy Christmas sweet friends and family!

2006-12-13T17:16:00.000-05:00

I admit it. I love the rush that comes when I'm searching for that perfect gift. I even enjoy the crowds, the bustle, the same old Christmas tune repeatedly playing overhead. I like the way Christmas lights soften and warm a room; having friends over for a fire in the fireplace and a toast for the season. I love the snow and the cold because without them both, I wouldn't appreciate hot chocolate and a warm blanket or good book. The season is full of so many fun, beautiful, warm things...but sometimes they distract me. I didn't even know until last night how far my heart had drifted from the truth of Christmas.

Last night I walked through the doorway of a home I had never been to before. It was late, and I was tired. I was cursing the beeper in my pocket that kept going off, ultimately taking me farther and farther away from my bed and pillow. The home was located in the projects and I had already heard bits and pieces about the man I was to see. As I walked through the unfamiliar doorway and into a small living room, my eyes adjusted slowly to the dim glow. A haze of cigarette smoke hung in the air. Across from me stood a small brightly lit, tinsel strewn Christmas tree that illuminated the crowded room with color. To my left lay a dying man in a hospital bed. Scattered around the room sat various people; most of which were homeless--as was the man I had come to see. They gathered together, in the home of a friend, to take care of this man who once showed them how to survive on the streets. Around his bedside, they shared their stories with raw humor and brutal honesty; some had visible wounds fresh upon their faces. It was, as one of my co-workers said, one of the most profoundly beautiful and painfully sobering things to behold. On one hand, I observed this eclectic group of men and women living not as individuals but as one tightly bound body. I watched as they demonstrated selfless, shameless love for the one in greatest need. They wiped his face, they turned him, they gave him water. On the other hand, in the midst of this love and by the glow of the christmas lights, there was palpable pain; fragmented lives.

For a couple of hours, I was a part of a community that I have never before been in. In so many ways I did not belong. I didn't talk like them or dress like them. My stories were nothing like the ones being told and yet, I might have been the only one who noticed. For a couple of hours I was far removed in mind and spirit from the bustle and activities of which so recently consumed my attention. As foreign as this living room and the people within it's walls felt to me, a part of me longed to stay. I was afraid I might not have this experience ever again-or at least for a very long time. Although no one ever mentioned God I felt Him in the room. I wondered if He was in the hospital bed. As I stepped back into the dark, into the cool of night, I was quieted in my soul by what I had just been part of.

This was what was missing. Jesus. He came for this-for them-for me.

In the midst of the bustle I hope we become people who are caught up in His Spirit. I hope that we intentionally invite strangers in and gather together to meet the needs of each other. I hope that we unashamedly wipe the brow of one who needs it. May we live and breathe and love by the beat of His Spirit. He's the reason everything is so sweet.

I think the sparkles, lights and snowflakes are because He likes to leave us breathless.

2006-11-27T20:36:00.000-05:00

a kiss by the tree!

Ryan and Tara on Thanksgiving

Riley!!

The past few weeks have flown by but they've been full of really, really good things. :)

1. a trip to Indianapolis--We finally had time with our niece who we couldn't possibly love anymore than we already do. We are currently referred to as "Munga and Ki". Munga is a new one for me...I've been around a lot of kids and never has my name come out quite like that. I'll admit it doesn't exactly have that lovely roll off your lips kind of ring to it but at the same time, when she says it I think it's adorable. :) We also spent an evening with Marcia, Greg, and Ava. A cozy fire in the fireplace, cocktails and hours of conversation was more than I hoped for. Between them and Kyle's family living there too, we have plenty of incentive to move north. Marcia, if you read this, thanks for taking time to hang out. We love you guys.

2. Thanksgiving with Ryan and Tara (and Tara's mom and sister Sarah). We got to spend the holiday with some people we love the most. We laughed all the way through dinner-and enjoyed a movie with full bellies. good stuff.

3. It's a wonderful Life at the Barter Theater. This past Saturday night we went on a real date to see a play at Barter Theater. The play was wonderful and it felt good to get dressed up, and to go somewhere special. We had coffee afterwards in this quaint coffee shop. We stayed all warm inside despite the cool temps outdoors. The drive was beautiful with the first glimmers of Christmas lights winking at us from the side streets.

4. Another Thanksgiving day dinner with Em and Jody. Yeah, we've eaten well this past week! We had a lot to celebrate with them since they recently found out they, too, are pregnant. yay! It's always good to be around them. They make us laugh; they love each other well.

Those are the highlights but even in the middle of all of that there have been more sparkles of good.
Wishing you the same!

we decided this is a turkey bulge not a baby bulge...nonetheless, it's a preview of coming attractions!

Ava! (Marcia is the pro on the other side of the camera)

Marcia and Ava

2006-11-06T12:47:00.000-05:00

With a room full of eyes upon me, I took my turn twirling around the cafeteria of the assisted living center. The man who had me by the arm was doing his best to chorale me in a graceful fashion. I was bumbling around; it was obvious he knew what he was doing and, hopelessly, I did not. 5 minutes prior to our impromptu rendezvous, he proposed to me over pureed turkey, mashed potatoes and ensure. I held up my hand and flashed the bling. With a shrug of his shoulders and a smile that would break your heart he decided to settle for a dance instead. With the record player crackling out a tune from long before my era, he tilted his head to the side and extended his aged hand with eyebrows raised. "Oh, Lord, please no" was the silent cry that raced through my head. I tried to laugh his request off. I looked around the room for support-or better yet, for another victim to sic him on. He was not deterred. And then, to my horror, the whole room started cheering us on. He was suddenly on his feet and standing before me. As color crept into my cheeks I knew I wasn't going to get away without a spin around the floor. And so, there we went. Hand in hand. This 20 something year old girl with cheeks ablaze and this 80 something year old man reveling in the spotlight. He led without skipping a beat-I’m not kidding, this guy was smokin. Our knees knocked together a time or two as I tried to go one way and he tried to go the other. It was quite a spectacle. All around me were men and women in wheelchairs, smiling big unrestrained smiles-they'd be dancing if they could. They unpacked their pride a long time ago. Everyone clapped; everyone cheered. And this is just a guess but I don’t think they were cheering on my lightness of foot. As the last notes of our dance melted into the noise of the crowd, I got one of those cheek kisses that older people are always a bit overzealous to give away. And then he smiled a big genuine smile that managed to make up for all of the embarrassment I had just endured on his behalf. I went back to my seat and attempted to resume the process of feeding the woman whom I was sitting with. I had one of those moments that occasionally creep up in perplexing situations when I can't help but wonder "what. just. happened?" Marriage proposition over a denture friendly diet, dancing my heart out in the cafeteria to a man with tan, leathered skin and a toupee. If only my friends could see me now. :)

2006-11-05T20:24:00.000-05:00

I have a promise coming.

In the daily routine of living, the getting up and lying down, the individual rhythm to which I move about my day; I have a promise coming. In the days or weeks or seasons of life when nothing feels easy or rehearsed; I have a promise coming.

How can there be peace, joy and hope in the middle of darkness? Because on the other side of 'it' is a piece of our promised land. Faith fights. God conquers. We have to press the thing through in order to reap and savor the benefits. I serve a God who is mighty and able to deliver us from any and all pain but He desires to turn our weakness into strength. He desires to see us through. Why? Because we have a promise coming. And there is nothing small about His promises.

The Master Builder

It's hard to see things grow old. The town in which I grew up is growing old....Some of the buildings are boarded up. Some of the houses are torn down....The old movie house where I took my dates has "For Sale" on the marquee....

I wish I could make it all new again. I wish I could blow the dust off the streets...but I can't.

I can't. But God can. "He restores my soul", wrote the shepherd. He doesn't reform; he restores. He doesn't camouflage the old; he restores the new. The Master Builder will pull out the original plan and restore it. He will restore the vigor. He will restore the energy. He will restore the hope. He will restore the soul.

-The Applause of Heaven

Romans 15:13 :)
"May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.

2006-10-22T14:15:00.000-05:00

I'm afraid pictures of fall never seem to do 'fall' justice. Nonetheless, here's a couple shots off the porch. The color's not quite as bright here as it was in NC but no complaints, as it's still so beautiful!

Also, here's a couple pictures of some of our new friends from Ghana. They are at ETSU getting their masters in Chemistry...so brilliant! We are trying to help them find a car--so if you're local, and know of anything, please let us know. They want to find a car for under $2,000.

It's been a good weekend. Kyle made it home safe and sound from CA with plenty of stories to tell. I will try to write and update more later when I have a few more minutes. A big shout out of 'Congratulations' to Kelli and Andy. 16 hours of labor and one cesarean section later, we have another baby to love! :)

2006-10-17T18:17:00.000-05:00

Who needs kids when you have Oliver?

About two weeks ago Kyle's favorite dog and most beloved pet, began to snort and choke anytime he got the least bit excited. At first I was alarmed. I jumped to my feet ready to come to his rescue. Airway obstruction?! I wondered if he'd finally managed to swallow the right combination on inedible objects to be the death of him. If you could see all of the things our dog has managed to digest in his short life, it's a wonder we haven't had to do canine CPR a long time ago. Recovery, on this particular day, came a few short minutes later. After a few days of more of the same, Oliver's new found habits turned from alarming to annoying. He'd circle around our feet carrying on in such a way that it stopped conversation dead in it's tracks. I have been told he might have allergies and that over the counter benadryl is often effective. So we tried it. No such luck...still snorting. A bit more sedated, which has its own perks but the breathing issues remain. Around the same time the snorting started, Oliver also started to lick his paws incessantly. Yesterday I came home and he was hobbling all over the house on three paws. He's about licked one of his paws raw. Lovely. So tonight I must wrap his paw. And give him his benadryl. And keep him calm as to prevent the snorting cycles. And, yes, we will be going to see the vet before he manages to chew off any more appendages.

Come home soon, husband!

2006-10-15T16:16:00.000-05:00

blessings.

I've mentioned this before but there's this amazing cabin in Blowing Rock, NC that has become an oasis of sorts for a small handful of ladies. Last weekend, Kathy, Brenda and I loaded up Kathy's SUV and headed east to our weekend retreat. We left after sunset, with the moon large and rotund overhead. I stared out the window with the same sort of fervor I do when I can see the depth and height of the mountains in plain view. This time, however, the darkness was a calm companion. I was very much aware of what lay hidden in the dark; it's awe was not lost by the mask of night. As we drove, we each took turns weaving our thoughts together. Three separate woman on separate journeys yet ever so tightly bound. Sandra McCracken serenaded us as we weaved and crawled up the mountain.
Once at the cabin, we each claimed our respective beds and the conversation continued for the next couple of days. On this trip, I listened a lot more then I normally do. It was good, to listen. I realized I don't do that nearly as much as I should. It blessed me to hear the inner workings of their hearts. I learned about faith that fights and the conversation of prayer. We returned to Johnson City the same way we came, only this time we were blanketed in a cloud of fog. Every now and then the fog would lift and color would shout at us from the tree tops. There we were-with our eyes fixed on the hazy horizon-in anticipation of those fleeting moments of breath taking clarity, with Sandra McCracken still singing softly in the background, and our conversation quieter, more relaxed in the knowing of each other's souls.

Work was busy this past week. I have found that when I first started working with hospice I always felt this need to come home and digest some of the things that happened--especially deaths. Early in the week I realized that somewhere over the course of the past few months I've come to a place where I can come home without feeling the need to blurt out "someone died today" the second I come through the door. I'm not sure if this is a good thing or a bad thing. Just an observation; although I'm leaning towards 'good thing'. Maybe I'm finally beginning to realize it's not about me. Not even in part. What I do know is this: there is a Holy balance in this type of work. I have the privilege of walking on sacred ground every time I go into a patient's home. People who live with the awareness that they are dying, generally live at a whole different level. Being around them changes everything.

And then, finally, we had a visitor this weekend! My mom came to East TN for a few days and she came at just the right time. We again went to Blowing Rock and words cannot describe the beauty of the leaves. It was a kaleidoscope of color! We did a little shopping, we looked at homes and strolled around Jonesborough, and we had dinner with some friends. It was a calm, enjoyable, relaxing weekend. Oliver was most amused by mom and her antics...and vice versa. Kyle tried to get mom to take Oliver with her but she said we couldn't pay her enough. My poor dog.

Kyle leaves for Newport Beach, CA this week! He too, has been so busy. He's been a rock.

blessings are everywhere: in the dark. in the color. through the fog. in the quiet. in conversation. in the living. in that final breath.

may we each have eyes to see.

2006-10-01T18:34:00.000-05:00

Another week come and gone! I've said before that sometimes "life as usual" makes me feel like I have nothing of any significance to say or update. When I think back over the past couple weeks though, it's safe to say that besides the day to day routine of things, life has been anything but usual.

The same might be said for the weather!! Fall is in the air! I drove to Mountain City a couple times last weekend and as I passed by the lake, I noticed small patches of color, bubbling up into the vast expanse of green. In a matter of a few short weeks color will be everywhere. Lucky us! The weather is such right now that you can't help but step outside and take a deep breath; inhaling life and God and wonder all mixed beautifully together. Kyle is dying to get a camping trip in before the weather gets too cool. We didn't do very well at all in the camping department this summer. Poor guy. We may have to resort to pitching a tent in the back yard...our neighbors might make fun but we'll be the ones with the memories. :)

Kyle has been keeping busy working on a few projects. It's exciting to watch him create art with his gifts and passion-all within the walls of our home. The other day I asked if he is loving his new career and he continues to say, with a smile, "It doesn't feel real yet". Nonetheless, our spare bedroom is being transformed before my eyes into a makeshift office and I can tell that even though it may not feel completely real to him yet, he is in a good place with his chosen career.

Things we're contemplating: Kyle is reading "Sailing between the Stars" by Steven James. Steven and Kyle have worked together on a couple of projects. Steven is a talented guy with a huge gift for storytelling. I haven't read this book yet but I snuck a peek at a few pages and I can tell I'm going to love it. He paints incredible imagery with words. He writes the way I long to converse. The national storytelling festival is in Jonesborough next weekend. A longstanding tradition of the festival is that one night the town is lit with teaky torches and people congregate with their lawn chairs and bug spray to be lulled and enchanted by world renowned storytellers. It's one of those events that make the world feel just right.

Things brewing in my heart: a lot of inventory is taking place these days. Ever feel like you have a vision of what you hope to be someday--and it feels terribly far off from your present realities? That's where I'm at. When I think of how I want to grow, I have visions of a person who lives in the daily grace and freedom of Christ. What does that look like? Alive, congruent, relational, full. Having nothing to do with circumstance. It would make no difference if we had 3 kids, 5 kids, or no kids; if we are rich or poor. Sounds idyllic right? Who doesn't want to live there? But I look around me and I wonder, "How many people do?" We dream God sized dreams but we go on living the same ways day after day until one day we're grown up and the dreamer in us has long been put to rest; the wounds of our youth still bleed; we still blend into the crowd wherever we go because we never let God's love fill us to the point of not caring what other people think. I have no idea what it means to really live in that kind of freedom but I do believe we were created to abide in that place. I know I've mentioned all of this before and I don't mean to bore you with repetition but I can't stop. I believe we are meant to be free. I've seen a handful of people who are daily being transformed by God's grace and I long for that kind of living. Life is exhilarating AND painful right now. But at the end of day, I'm glad.

2006-09-18T20:12:00.000-05:00

We can't help but post a picture of our adorable niece...they don't get much cuter, do they? We miss you Milzareks!! Give her a kiss for us!

2006-09-17T19:55:00.000-05:00

Happy Birthday, Lara!!

We miss you and hope you've had a wonderful day!

2006-09-10T13:54:00.000-05:00

"God is calling our hearts to remain warm, exposed, and pulsating with new life."

It's been a crazy week. No. It's been a crazy month. Change is everywhere and most days it's all we can do to hang on. Don't get me wrong, change is good and there is much to celebrate but in the midst of it all, I've lost touch with some of the things that matter most. I suppose that might be why I feel so overwhelmed; too much hanging on for dear life. It's time to let go; to breathe. I've been working somewhat frantically trying to control things that at the end of the day, I'm thankful I cannot. It makes me wonder what my world would look like if I really could control it all. I can see it already: my tiny little box, shared with just a few people who won’t shake things up too much. Far too safe and predictable. Bor. Ing. As wild as things are right now, I know God is orchestrating every detail--so I remind myself to take a deep breath, be still and be glad.

I started writing this blog a few days ago and oddly enough, every topic I've encountered in church, small group and bible study since then has been about relationship/community. It's not a new topic; in fact it's one I feel strongly about. However, if there's one thing I know all too well about me, it's that when life gets overwhelming or painful, I retreat. This faulty 'coping mechanism' that I've developed seems to defy everything I value. Nonetheless, while tucked away within our man-made walls I'm blissfully under the illusion that I am capable of filtering out any unwanted demands that could be placed on me. Not only is that an illusion of sorts but I can't figure out why the very notion of such mindless solitude is appealing to me. I don't want to be alone. A battle ensues between my flesh and the Spirit.

Wednesday night, I was exhausted and I longed for the comfort and mindless solitude of my couch. But, since neither Kyle nor I had been to bible study in weeks, we felt we should go. The last part of that statement makes me cringe because if you knew these amazing people that we have the privilege of meeting with, it wouldn't make sense for me to feel this way. Obviously it's not a statement about them; it's a reflection of the condition of my soul. People have needs; people are wild and unpredictable; people require us to be engaged. All of those traits are exhilarating and wonderful unless you're running on empty. Therefore, by default, when life gets crazy or painful, people get filtered out. God gets filtered out. This sinful soul wants to go at it alone.

"There’s no healing when you're hiding." I heard those words in church today and they gave me pause. There's comfort in being 'too busy' for God and for others. Not only does it eliminate potential demands but it allows us to go for days or weeks or months without tapping in to the deepest parts of who we are. The empty parts, the bleeding parts, the sinful parts. So very unhealthy. There have been times when I've laid my broken parts out for people to see. To my surprise, the world didn't stop; they didn't walk away; God didn't strike me down. The 'problem' was, they loved me anyway and they want to walk with me towards healing and freedom. The fear that propels me toward the couch rather than to community group rests in this: what happens after I lay it all out there? What then? That's the scary part, isn't it? Accountability? Follow up? It's not okay to stay broken forever-and most of us are comfortable with our brokeness. Healthy community should always move us towards healing.

I am still confident of this, that I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Psalm 27:13

I dream about heaven a lot-probably more than the average person my age-I suppose it comes with the kind of work that I do. I dream about what freedom we will know; to be in the Holy presence of God!; joy beyond our wildest comprehension; beauty beyond beauty. But, I continually remind myself that God promises us all of those things with each breath He's given us. We have been given life to live in the here and now. God is about the business of restoration. The goodness of the Lord is in the land of the living! He shines brightly in those with whom I lock eyes with. He's in the sunset, the mountains, in every created thing our eyes take in. We all have broken parts. Fellowship is God's gift to us; He calls us to have hearts that are "warm, exposed, and pulsating with new life". May we become catalysts for each other as we lay our hearts open and invite God to move.

So what happened when I got off the couch and went to group Wednesday night? We were met at the door with kind faces and open arms. We were serenaded with a round of happy birthday and enjoyed birthday cake. I laughed real, heartfelt laughter and felt an awakening in my tired spirit. I listened to people's prayer requests-some were courageous enough to put it all out there, we studied scripture, and I lost that self absorbed frame of mind I was basking in pre-group. That night, around our table, I saw the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living and at the end of the day, I couldn't imagine why I would have ever picked solitude on the couch over all of that/them. Or Him. And that's the thing about community that I forget when I disconnect. I'm always healthier when I'm engaged-with God and with the people He's put in my life.

2006-09-07T17:43:00.000-05:00

Roots

Despite having been in TN for almost 10 years, there's no denying my roots. Oddly enough, I have to admit I feel some strange element of pride each time I cross over the Wisconsin Stateline. I know most people out there aren't clamoring for bragging rights over cheese, the cold, the cuisine, or (let's be honest), even the Packers these days. But, nonetheless, going home always feels so good to me. Despite my protests of the blistering cold, I like that we 'survive' the winters; that our wardrobes reflect our preference to be 'warm and frumpy' than 'cold and fashionable'; and that every Sunday during football season is a reason to congregate at Grandma's. I even feel the tiniest bit of acceptance over the animal skins and stuffed birds that dad is beginning to display all over the house. Creepy at times, yes, but enduring in it's own Wisconsin-ish way.

I mentioned briefly that my dad invited the whole Roehrig clan over to his house one evening while Kyle and I were home. As I sat in the midst of my relatives and listened to their laughter, it felt good to be a part of them. I love that they enjoy being together. With Kyle and me living far away, I sometimes forget how it feels to be with them. It isn't until evenings such as this, when I am once again a part of something bigger that I feel that satisfaction and that ache. I love that these people are my family and that one's hurts are the hurts of the whole. I love how they care for each other.

There is one constant that colors every single event for which we have gathered together over the years. It hasn't mattered if the occasion was happy or sad. Even in the midst of loss and grief, I have witnessed how laughter permeates everything. As children, Chris and I used to get sent to our rooms when we'd become hysterical at the dinner table. I could not, no matter how hard I tried, keep the laughter (and at times, the milk) from hurtling past my tightly pressed lips-and when it finally burst forth, it was uncouth, occasionally messy, and always unrestrained. At holidays when we all journeyed to Grandma's, the exact same thing would happen to dad and his siblings with my Grandma (Olga) being the ring leader. The only difference between their outofcontroledness and mine, is that somewhere along they way they all mastered the art of laughing silently. Guests always remark on how everyone's shoulders shake incessantly around the table-the only audible noise is that of people coming up for air. Chris realized early on, that if he could make me laugh when we were fighting, it ruined everything. Surrender always came in the form of one unsuppressed giggle. Therefore, fights typically never lasted long because once I cracked it was over--and I always cracked.

My brief trip home reminded me that I'm proud of where I come from. Sitting outside at dad’s that night as one small part of the whole, filled me up in a place that I’d forgotten. There’s satisfaction journeying across the Stateline because it means coming home to my camo clad family who always make time for each other and who are never without a reason to laugh. Perfect, we are not, but the first time my kids spray milk all over the room in a fit of laughter I’ll see evidence of where they come from and for that, I’ll be proud.

2006-09-04T20:22:00.000-05:00

Dad and I

What a whirlwind of a week! I want to sit down and write more in a few days when I have some time but for now I thought I would post a few pics. Jaclyn and joshua's wedding was classy and gorgeous in every way. She was a picture of beauty. As I type, Jaclyn and Joshua are sailing the deep blue sea and enjoying the sweetness of their honeymoon.

Another huge highlight of the weekend was simply being reunited with friends that mean everything to us. It was home. The conversation, the laughter, the comfort of each other...there's nothing better.
After the wedding, we journeyed north to spend a mere few days in WI at my dad's. Dad was kind enough to invite his family over one night and they were kind enough to come! The trip in it's entirety went much too quickly but we relished every moment. And now, back to the working world.

I will write more soon but for now, the photos must do the talking. :)

Photos of Jaclyn & Joshua

Coming 'Home'

Kyle and I

Good times with Grandma!

2006-08-24T18:46:00.000-05:00

"The dog is ruining our marriage."

And so began the first real arguement of my married life. With these few words spoken into existance, the discussion that ensued took on a life of it's own. As the weight of Kyle's words hung in the balance between us, I smiled. He had my full attention. Never had those words been used before. "He's kidding, right?" was all I could think as I searched his expression for the smile I was sure he was hiding. Ruining our marriage? "Isn't that a bit dramatic?" was all I could utter in reply.
Ah, yes. Expectations. With neither of us having never owned a dog before, and being completely ignorant of all that dog ownership entails, there was never any discussion 'pre-Oliver' about the basics of puppy rearing. How hard can it be raising man's best friend? Hard enough, I found out, to potentially ruin a marriage...at least in the eyes of my husband.

So what were the problems? If I really give you the full blown list, Kyle may have sympathizers. :) I'll admit that my husband did have some valid points. Yes, indeed, the dog had presented some challenges and inconveniences. The gravity of his so called offenses, however, all rest in the eyes of the beholder. In my opinion our sweet little pup could do nothing so serious as to render him homeless. Afterall, if the dog was neurotic, wasn't it Kyle and I who were to blame?

The arguement that night did not end peacefully. There were tears. I vowed, out loud, that I would never get rid of our dog.
That was 3 years ago.

Although we've made a lot of progress in the dog department, it hasn't all been roses over the past three years insofar as 'Stinky' is concerned. But, yesterday, the chasm that began between Kyle and I on that fateful night, grew a few feet smaller. Upcoming travel plans are forcing us to find a home for Oliver. Due to his neurotic tendencies, it's not easy to ask people to watch him. And so, out of desperation, we went searching and found Camp Ruff-n-More: a day camp for dogs. (I know, I know.) Oliver had a trial run there today and LOVED it. Kyle is happy: we now have a place to leave the dog on a moment's notice--spontaneity is alive and well again in the Long home. Megan is happy: Oliver will be well cared for and I can rest easy knowing he wont be holed up in some dreary kennel for a week. Oliver is happy. Not that that matters to most people or to Kyle, but it does to me. :)

And, so, tomorrow we're off to Chicago! Can't wait to see some of your faces!

2006-08-14T14:36:00.000-05:00

With the end of August fast approaching, we have a couple fun trips to look forward to! This coming weekend we are heading to Cave City, KY to hang out with my dad and Rhonda and her family. Rhonda's family is having a reunion and since they will be within driving distance, we're going to be lucky enough to take part. It looks like spelunking at Mammoth Cave and water sports will be on the agenda-and who doesn't get excited for campfires with pudgy pies and smores? Mmmmmm.

The following weekend we are heading to windy city for the biggest par-tay of the summer. Jaclyn and Joshua are getting married!!! Since we were going that far north we decided to make a vacation out of it. A few days in Chicago playing in the big city and then a few days in WI visiting friends and fam. It's been waaay too long! If you're presently in that neck of the woods-prepare yourself, we might be visiting a couch near you soon! ;)

Updates on this end? It's official: kyle is wrapping things up at the church and will be transitioning into free lancing full time in a couple of weeks! We wont lie, we're a little nervous but we're believing big things in all of this and we're excited about all of the possibilities. It's one thing to dream--it's something else entirely to jump. I love what I see in my husband's eyes these days: they are alive with the joy that comes when one does what s/he believes they were created to do. And that makes this wife incandescently happy. There's no one else I'd rather be jumping with.

2006-07-30T17:21:00.000-05:00

Ah, Summer!

It’s been a good weekend! Kyle had some long time friends/mentors, Dave and Sheree, stay with us Friday night. Dave was Kyle’s youth minister growing up and the two of them share that bond youth ministers always seem to have with 'their kids': lots of laughter-lots of stories. The four of us went to the Outback for a tasty dinner and then we all returned home for banana splits. I don’t think there was a quiet moment between all of us the entire time they were here. If only we had a few minutes more!

Saturday morning rolled around, we saw our friends off, I grabbed my yoga mat, hopped in the car and journeyed to the Yoga Tree while Kyle went to the gym. This has turned in to a Saturday morning ritual in our home. It was a dreary day so while we originally had plans to participate in “Field day”—an afternoon of outdoor games sponsored by Knetic, we decided instead, to hang out indoors. I was fully intentioned to order a movie off of the TV but I got side tracked with the movie idea because The Contender was on. Who knew? This show brings out a side to me that I never, EVER knew existed. Somehow I got hooked during Season One and unbeknownst to me, Season Two is upon us. Kyle came downstairs yesterday expecting me to be lazily watching “Pride and Prejudice” and instead he found me sitting upright, at the edge of my seat, watching The Contender. I get all worked up rooting for my chosen victor and yet, at the end, I always end up a bit teary eyed for the guy who has to go home. “Megan. It’s box-ing”, Kyle will say with an exaggerated roll of his eyes, as if he’s telling me something I don’t already know. He's right but it never makes me any less weepy. :) I'll always root for the under dog--even if it IS boxing. Anyway, the day came to a close as we went to church and enjoyed an evening together.

Today, after Kyle got home from church we went out to Boone Lake which is a mere mile or two from our house. It was such a beautiful day. The lake was alive with the activities of summer. Hammocks; kids fishing with their dads; the echoes of laughter floating all around us.

Presently, Kyle is outside washing the vehicles while I sit upstairs and type. We enjoyed our dinner out on the deck-the smell of the grill lingering on our clothes. We tricked Stinky into giving him a bath and so now he’s tearing through the house trying desperately to dry off. It’s been a weekend full of ordinary life-and someday it will blend into the recesses of my mind where every other ordinary weekend resides. But for today, these are the moments that feel good to my soul. Simple summer pleasures.

2006-07-27T20:10:00.000-05:00

…“Why am I afraid to dance, I who love music & rhythm & grace & song & laughter? Why am I afraid to live, I who love life and the beauty of flesh & the living colors of the earth & sky & sea? Why am I afraid to love, I who love, love?”

--Ragamuffin Gospel

There’s a young woman at church whom I have never spoken to. I do not know her name. She comes regularly with her family, and they always take their seats near the front of the congregation. If I had to guess, I would say that she appears to be in her early teens; she is not one who blends in with the crowd. There is nothing average or ordinary about this girl. To judge by appearances, one may recognize that she has some cognitive delays but that’s not what makes her extraordinary. She has a spirit to her that sparkles. She has no idea, as she takes her seat, that 5, 10, or 15 rows back I take notice of her and I find myself grateful, once again, just to be in her presence. Her joy infects me. When the music starts? She jumps up from her seat when they ask us to stand; it’s almost as if it was taking everything in her to stay seated. She rocks and sways as we sing…hands clapping on beat, off beat and every beat in between. She sings to her own melody without care or consideration for what the person beside her is doing. There’s no volume control. If her heart is happy the Lord knows it and so do we. And her family? There’s no sideways glance at their neighbor as if to say, ‘so sorry, we apologize for our daughter’s unrestrained behavior’. They choose to sit in the front of the church without apology. It’s the most amazingly beautiful worship I’ve seen to date. Sometimes, when I’m close enough to hear, I close my eyes and silence myself and listen to this young woman sing. I imagine what it would be like to look down from heaven. One girl rocking and swaying in the middle of hundreds; unafraid to worship and love our Creator with unrestrained joy and abandon. This is not to say that she’s not surrounded by hundreds of people who are equally passionate about loving and praising the Lord. But, she moves me because I see in her what I long to experience for myself.

…"We have been given God in our souls and Christ in our flesh. We have the power to believe where others deny, to hope where others despair, to love where others hurt. This and so much more is sheer gift; it is not reward for our faithfulness, our generous dispositions or our heroic life of prayer. My deepest awareness of myself is that I am deeply loved by Jesus Christ and I have done nothing to earn it or deserve it.” --Ragamuffin Gospel

I'm praying that I'll grow to experience and know the freedom that has already been won on my behalf. There's a war waging within me; a war between my spirit and my flesh. But God is big--bigger than the battles and His love is always enough. I don't want or need to wait on heaven to worship with abandon-He desires it in the here and now--and honestly, my heart craves it. Every week--or every few weeks--I get a picture of what that freedom looks like. It comes in the package of one young girl; completely unaware of her ministry. Oh, to experience the fullness and richness of life as God intends. To bask in the knowledge that we are deeply loved by God. What, then, shall I fear?

2006-07-25T21:20:00.000-05:00

“Tell me about something beautiful.” Her request caught me off guard. I looked up from the note I was pensively writing and looked at her face. I leaned in close and looked intently into her eyes for the first time since I entered her room. She was my last visit of the day—added to me at the last minute so I will confess that my heart was not engaged in what I was doing. I was rushing to wrap up my day. Upon getting to her home, I mechanically completed her assessment. As I inspected her from head to toe I filled the silence between us with chatter. Once I was satisfied with how she was checking out, I silently sat down beside her and became lost in my own thoughts as I feverishly filled out the paper work. I nearly forgot she was living and breathing beside me. Her question came as an intrusion to my disengaged mind and heart. “Something beautiful?” Now that she had jarred me back to the present moment, I was floundering a bit to come up with something that I thought might be satisfying but real. With her vision almost completely gone and confined by the limits of the hospital bed, I knew what she meant. She wanted a taste of the sunshine. She wanted to see with someone else’s eyes; out of the bedroom; free.

I retraced the events of the day. I told her how the sun was shining brightly as I left my home early this morning and that even in the early morning hours, I could already feel the humidity like a cloak around me. I told her about the winding road I traveled as I drove to my first patient’s home; the bends of the road in perfect harmony with the river on it’s east bank. I described how the river road became wooded with it’s canopy of giant trees of old, and how for a few minutes the glory of the sun was muted by the lush green leaves overhead. I told her about a patient who smiled today who’s smile we had not seen for quite some time. As I recounted the day’s events in light of beauty, it made the feel of the whole day different.

And that’s when I saw it. The shine of tears in her eyes; upturned corners of her mouth. She transcended the confines of her withering body and journeyed with me. I didn’t get to tell her about the “something beautiful” presently lying beside me due to the emotion that had crept into my throat. In her quest to see beauty with someone else’s eyes, someone else’s eyes beheld beauty.

After a few minutes, I packed up my things, gave her a kiss on the forehead and said good-bye. She nodded yes with her gaze fixed on the ceiling-her expression unchanged. I hoped she was still driving along the country roads as I walked out to my car and got inside.

I know we all get busy, we all become disengaged-we can’t expect ourselves or anyone else to be “on” every moment of every day. But I didn’t notice the brilliance of the sunshine today in the early morning hours until I recounted it this afternoon. I didn’t appreciate the canopy of trees along the river road until I traveled it once more in my memory. I wouldn’t have seen her, if she hadn’t asked. Sometimes I’m so busy living ahead of myself, getting stressed over my list of things to do/ people to see, that I miss it.

I’m reminded at the end of this day that God delights in our pleasure and that He created a world full of beauty for us to behold.

Today, was a good day. A day of beauty. And to think, I almost missed it.

2006-07-13T22:15:00.000-05:00

My neighbor, Rachel, was quite a lady. A woman of wonder. She had this larger than life personality-the kind that welcomes strangers off the street and bakes for all the neighbors; the kind that thinks nothing of prancing around outside in a night gown, all hours of the night and day. With her deep, raspy voice from far too many years of chain smoking, we’d delight in her story telling—even when we already knew, verbatim, how that particular story ended. Rachel had a love for gardening. Flowers bloomed year round in the small plot of land in front of her home. Stiff joints and creaky bones made it increasingly difficult for her to stay stooped over in her garden. Therefore, in the springtime, we had this system down where she would insist on financing all of the mulch for our adjacent gardens and Kyle and I would be the work horses. She’d stand on her porch and shout orders at us as we moved plants to and fro, yanked weeds, and mulched the flower beds. When the skies grew dark and the thunder clouds rolled in, we could always peek out our front window and there she’d be: sitting in her white rocking chair, in the shelter of the porch, appreciating the spectacle of the storm in all of it's glory. Any time a rainbow graced the horizon, she’d come knock on our door and all three of us would stand together, in the middle of the yard staring up at the sky. She always said, “I hate to bother you but something like this is just too beautiful to experience alone”. And she was right. I remember once, after a snow storm, I glanced out the window again just in time to see her pick up a handful of freshly fallen snow and eat it. This is a strange thing to watch a full grown adult do but somehow, it was fitting and not at all surprising. The wonder of it all.

We lost Rachel one warm, sunny spring day when the skies were blue and the garden was blossoming. Copper Hill, as we knew it, would never be the same. And fortunately, neither would we.

Today, her white rocking chairs grace our porch. The single guy who moved into her home doesn’t know a thing about gardening and Kyle and I are doing our best but that doesn’t say much. The wind blew in a storm today and it reminded me of her. Sometimes I think I feel her in the air. I wonder how many rainbows we’ve missed without the knock on our door? But, days like today it all comes back: her larger than life personality and the warmth and wonder of it all.

2006-07-07T21:37:00.000-05:00

Dreaming of missions

I can't begin explain what goes on in my heart--Kyle says I'm easily swayed from one day to the next. If I'm being honest, there's no denying it--one day I want a baby, the next I want to travel; one day I want to save every penny and the next I'm ready to put the down payment down on our home. But, one thing I know for sure, I have this gigantic dream to go overseas and to spend time in an orphanage. The older I get the more intense the dream becomes. For as long as I can remember I have dreamed of medical missions-and my heart has been set on Africa. Naturally, most people with whom I share this want to know, "why Africa?" And the thing is, I'm not really sure why. Is that strange? There are orphanages everywhere and children too many to count in need of love and attention, so why a land that is foreign to me in every way? But, then, why nursing...why Tennessee...why does my heart delight in anything? Where does any passion come from? I dream of missions; I don't know all the reasons why but I know what happens to my heart once I'm in those settings. In some ways, I become broken. In other ways, broken parts begin to heal. In all things, I see God and His grace. I see Him in the poor, in the sick, in the widows and the orphans. I see the human condition in some of it's purest forms: inexplicable strength, joy, sorrow, hope. I see life, with all it's worldly distractions sifted away. To live in that place for a day or a month changes everything. To go where nothing is familiar or comfortable is when God is wild and big but always good.
I don't know when but I do hope to get there someday. And maybe only then will I truly begin to grasp why my heart beats for the people of that far away place.

I realize this doesn't fit with the 'African' theme but recently the CMDA went back to Ecuador (where Kyle went last year). Carolina, the girl who stole my husband's heart was still at the orphanage and sent a friend of ours home with letters and drawings to share with us. We thought we'd post her picture below: she's holding the bear we sent to her.

2006-07-06T14:51:00.000-05:00

babies, babies everywhere!!

All our love and best wishes to Allison and Chris. Natalie Grace was born July 1st: 7 pounds 2 ounces. So beautiful! Everyone is healthy and my girl Allison has her sparkle back after a long, hard labor and delivery. ;) We love you guys! Keep the pictures and stories coming!

Also, one of my favorite pictures ever of Marcia, Greg and Ava. We can't wait to see you guys and love on her!

2006-07-01T15:48:00.000-05:00

"I've learned it's worth it to have the fight. The 'throw your arms up in the air, cry if you must', sort of fight. The hardest times over the past 5 years have come when we've tried to pretend it all away. Sometimes the best way to love each other is to go where it's crazy, painful and chaotic--knowing that when we do, it always gets us to a better place than when we first started."

Last night over dinner we bantered back and forth about what we've learned over the past 5 years of marital bliss. Some of our present realities are: I still can't cook-it's looking like I never will. In the mornings, I look like some wild unkempt version of the woman he thought he was going to see each day. My version of clean and his version of clean are two completely different things. (We'll let you come to your own conclusions about that.) Sometimes, I "lose control" when I find something amusing--occasionally this aggravates my husband which only fuels my outofcontroledness. I love yoga--the last time I tried to talk him into a yoga position he got stuck. He loves hiking the Appalachian Trail and all things outdoors. I prefer a fuzzy blanket and a good movie.

There's freedom in marriage. Freedom to own every bit of who you are and to celebrate every detail of the other. Can't dance? Shut the blinds and crank the music and dance like you've never danced before. Can't sing? Turn up the tunes and sing like a rock star. Can't cook? :) Pull out the cookbooks and try to make the most amazingly delicious meal in there. Body composition not what it used to be? A little wobbly around the edges? Right then. I think you see where this is going. We love each other as much for what we lack, as for what we are. It's safe to do the ridiculous in the presence of each other.

I've never been one to deal with conflict and neither has Kyle. But, we've learned by default along the way, that every now and then, there's nothing more cathartic or healing than a good fight. :) It keeps us honest, it keeps us moving forward and it allows us to love each other's quirks for what they are. So, here's to the next 5: may we love hard, fight hard, trust each other with the ridiculous and always extend grace knowing that there is far too much at risk when we do not.

2006-06-11T15:22:00.000-05:00

And then the day came,
when the risk to remain
tight in a bud
was more painful
than the risk it took
to blossom.
--Anais Nin

Community. Real, authentic, accept you 'just as you are' community. Does it really exist? It sounds good in theory but how many people truly live in that place? More specifically, does such community exist within the church? Sure, the church may be crawling with small groups but what really happens as we gather together each week? How are we loving each other? How are we loving those outside the group--especially those who are different from us?

Last year I read "Blue Like Jazz" and for the first time in my life I felt like I was reading a book that completely reflected my heart in terms of my faith and community within the church. I've been told this is a controversial book to some. For me, it was honest. A breath of fresh air. I may not agree with all of the author's thoughts and perceptions but the heart and soul of the book really spoke to me. It served as a tool that encouraged personal introspection and facilitated discussions about topics that actually meant something to me.

A little over a year ago, I was a huge skeptic when it came to community-specifically within the church. I was not at all interested in being a part of another small group where talk is superficially deep and where it's an unspoken prerequisite to be a clone in order to be accepted. However, Kyle and I were also at a place in life where isolating ourselves wasn't working for us either. It was painful. We craved authentic relationship, and we dabbled in it with a select few but we still just wanted it on our terms. If I'm honest, the same could be said of my relationship with God. One day, through unrelated circumstance, the Lord blew us into the home of a couple from our church as they met with their own small group. Each person introduced themselves to us and most of them had been a part of the group for years...5 years, 6 years, 3 years, etc. Years? That got my attention. In the past, it was all I could do to hang in there for 1 year or a summer. When it was my time to introduce myself I was suddenly overcome with emotion. Emotion I didn't even know existed. I could tell I was in a room full of people who loved each other differently. It rendered me speechless and it made me cry. Not only did I desperately want that, I was created for that.

And now it's a year later. The photo above was taken when the women from my group went to a cabin in North Carolina. It was late at night, the sky was black but a handful of us ran outside to see the stars. The laughter was real. And so was the community. It really does exist--even for this skeptic.

It's scary to invest in people at the heart level. I cry a lot more these days--but I laugh more, too. And more importantly, there's life in my walk with God. I didn't even know, before I met them, how much unbelief I harbored. I didn't know that I was missing out on all the joy and beauty in loving God...and in loving people. Authenticity is still a struggle for me personally but I'm thankful that I have people in my life who constantly give me permission to let it all out-the good, the bad and the ugly. If you haven't read Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller, I recommend it. And then talk about it...and don't stop. Maybe the Lord will blow you through someone else's open doors.

2006-06-11T07:36:00.000-05:00

Week with the In-Laws!! :)

Here are a few shots with Marcia and Tom while they were with us. We had a really good time together! We spent a day in Jonesborough house hunting, a day on the lake, drinking in the sites at Lake Lure, NC, and a day of window shopping in Boone, NC. There was lots of mountain scenery and plenty of delicious food. We even fired up the grill and ate out on the deck for the first time of the summer season. These pics do not do the mountains justice-it was beautiful!

Summer is upon us sweet friends so please come and visit!! We'd love to have you!

2006-06-11T07:09:00.000-05:00

To be or not to be...

Over the past month, we've become a bit more serious about finding ourselves a new home. I'd love to say, we're ready to make the big move into a home that can accomodate a growing family but something tells me Kyle might have a different response. :) Here's a photo of one of the plans we really love. This house is being built in a community/subdivision, New Halifax, where all of the homes are made to look like old homes of the South. It's a really wooded neighborhood which will be within walking distance of downtown Jonesborough--a quaint, cozy neighborhood with good eats and small town culture. Oh, and it's home to a tiny ice cream shop that has a sign on it that advertises dairy products from Fond du Lac, WI!!! CRAZY! We don't necessarily love the exterior colors of this model but the good thing about purchasing a lot to build on, is that we can have our say when and if the time is right.

I wonder what one can tell by watching couples walk through prospective homes?
I'm sure it's a bit amusing. I gush, some may say too loudly, over every wonderful detail. I walk into rooms and immediately have visions of nurseries and children--I picture the street lit up with Christmas lights and family around the table. My face absolutely reflects what's going on in my heart...I may be every realtor's dream. Flaws? Inconsistencies? Areas of improvement? I see none of that--its all about the dream. :) My husband, on the other hand, always with a poker face, examines every constructed detail and looks for possible areas of improvement. He's opening doors and crawling in storage spaces, scanning every crook and corner. His expression is guarded--but every now and then our eyes meet and the corners of his mouth start to smile. Yeah, that's right, he's loving it too but I may be the only one in the room who knows just how much. Together, I suppose we balance each other out and make a pretty good team. And so far, I'm happy to say, this house is getting approval from both of us!

2006-05-14T08:05:00.000-05:00

Happy Mother's Day!!

Here are some pictures of Marcia and Greg with Ava. They hope to take her home from the NICU today--she's done really well! We love you guys!

We hope everyone has a happy mother's day! With our moms far away, we don't have big plans for this afternoon. Our love goes out to them as always (that means you, too, Nancy!) We're also grateful for all of the surrogate moms we have here in TN-what would we do without you?! Let people love on you guys today! :)

2006-05-11T18:00:00.000-05:00

Happy birthday Marcia and welcome to the world, baby Ava!

“She dazzled everyone with her grace and charm.
And, yet, she was even more amazing on the inside”.

I'm afraid I’m a little bit homesick today. Not for Wisconsin, but for a certain group of people. For the lovely ladies pictured above. My soul sistas. :) These unbelievable women have, over time, gradually become permanent extensions of myself. I'm homesick for a brave woman in Indy who just gave birth to her first baby, for another woman in Texas who tenderly cares for a family of 5, and for yet another woman, living in the heart of Chicago who is full of passion and life and who will soon be embarking on a new journey of her own. I would do anything to be there to witness all of these incredible life changes. I long for time with each of them but mostly, I ache for what the experience is like when we’re all together. Real. Raw. Unfiltered. Free. All of our journeys have been so different-but our common thread through the years has been our faith. And because of this, for as long as I can remember, they’ve been my heart. My insides. That may sound gross to some of you but there's a small group out there who get that & surprisingly, may even take it as a compliment.

In some strange way, I’m thankful for the ache; for what it represents.
wishing each of you a bit of the same.

2006-05-05T22:01:00.000-05:00

Tonight was date night.

It had been waaay too long since we planned a night out to simply enjoy and celebrate each other and I must confess I was most excited to be with my man. As cheesy as this sounds, and I warn you-it IS cheesy-I had one of those moments tonight when I saw him walking across the room from me and I had to remind myself that he was coming to sit beside me...'lucky girl' I thought to myself as I stifled a foolish grin. :) After dinner we decided on a movie. As we walked up to get our tickets, we ran into some friends of Kyle's--also on date nights of their own. They asked what movie we were going to and Kyle bravely said, "Akeelah and the Bee". The angst! It was palpable. :) They, and the rest of Johnson City, were in line for Mission Impossible III. I know they probably thought "poor guy" as he walked away but he held his high. It WAS date night, afterall. Nothing to be ashamed of. And here's the thing, we both ended up loving the movie--which hasn't happened in a long time! No huge special effects-but a story line that moved us both. Oprah was right (yeah, I know, time to go back to work). Everyone should see this movie.
And so, at the end of the night, sleep is beckoning. I'm afraid it's true, all good things must come to an end. But, I can rest easy knowing the best thing in my world is right beside me.

Here's to date night and Akeelah and the Bee!

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same."
--Marianne Williamson (from the movie...)

2006-05-03T12:49:00.000-05:00

Andrew Peterson-one of my favorite musicians of all times! The lyrics to his songs are brimming with truth. I'm enclosing a link to his site (at the very end of this blog) where he keeps his journal entries. The entry I've copied below, incase you'd rather not go to his site, is his most recent and it's worth reading if you have a minute.

Freedom
May 2, 2006
Andrew Peterson

There’s a short list of things I’m sure I’ll never forget.

Things that burned themselves into my mind’s iris, so that even when my mind’s eye is closed, I’ll see them still. I’ll never forget seeing my wife for the first time, lit up with a hot Florida sun in front of my college. I’ll never forget the births of any of my children. I’ll never forget the smell of the hayloft at Grandma Click’s house in South Florida, or the vivid cloud spray over a field of corn near my house in Lake Butler one night when I was riding my little Yamaha scooter at sundown. I had pulled into the field to watch the colors fade, and the farmer who owned it saw me and barreled down a dirt road to where I was straddling the scooter. He asked me what I was doing, and I remember embarrassingly saying that I liked to paint and I was there to watch the sun set. He snorted and told me to look for inspiration elsewhere. Then I realized that the little black key had jarred out of the scooter somewhere along the road and I had no way to crank it up again. As if it weren’t already awkward enough being shooed out of a cornfield on a scooter, I had to push the scooter the few miles home through the country. I remember how sheepish I felt, but I also remember that stark gold and red sunset, and it’s the same one I think of every time I hear the Rich Mullins song The Howling, where it says “In the West I see an evening, a scarlet thread stretched beneath the gathering dark / Red as the blood on the hands of the savior, rich as the mercy that flowed from his broken heart.” That’s the sunset that I see in my mind, and the lyric changed it from being a thing of beauty to being a thing of Truth.

I could write about each of those things that I’ll never forget, and maybe I will, but right now I want to tell you about a woman sitting on the front row of the Maine Correctional Institution’s church service Sunday morning. Andy Gullahorn, Ben and I were invited to play there by a sweet woman named Joy. She’s a seminary student who runs the church services (among other things) at both the men’s and women’s prisons there outside of Portland. We didn’t really know what we were getting into, but it was impossible not to think about Jesus saying, “I was in prison and you visited me.” How could we say no? We loaded up our instruments into Joy’s car, exhausted from the late night/early morning schedule of that weekend, glad that we didn’t have to worry about a sound system. I tell you that when I get the honor of sitting with Ben and Andy to make music without bothersome cables and direct boxes and microphones, it’s something special. I love being able to hear all the nuances those guys put into the songs, and we all play better, because we can really hear each other. Anyway, we walked through several series of iron-barred doors, and every time they clanged shut behind me I was more thankful that I would be allowed to leave that place that afternoon. I can’t imagine what it would feel like to be stuck there for years upon years. The men filed in with their handlebar moustaches and their tattoos—and their bibles—and listened to us play for forty five minutes or so. It was exactly like you’d imagine. A sparse room. An unemotional but grateful audience. That common feeling of gratitude in the face of gratitude when you’ve actually managed to do something selfless for once. What I mean is, the men at the prison kept thanking us for coming, but all we could do was thank them for having us. The kingdom nurtures itself on the Spirit of God in the saints who serve. Joy asked us to close with After the Last Tear Falls and we could hear several gruff voices singing along.

We packed up again and did the same thing for the women’s prison. It was very different in the women’s wing. It still felt like prison, but a little more like a high security hospital. Still sterile and cold, but shinier. A prison with a woman’s touch. Joy busied herself with bouncing around the area with my charango, flaunting its strangeness in an effort to get women who wouldn’t ordinarily come to church to listen to us play.

Because the intimidation was less, I looked more directly at the women prisoners than I did the men, though most of them could’ve beat me, Ben and Andy to a pulp if they’d wanted. There was a sweet little round black lady named Peaches who wouldn’t look me in the eye. There was a kind woman named Stacy who was missing most of her teeth. But the woman whose face I’ll never forget sat on the front row very quietly, even delicately. She held her bible in her lap, wearing the same blue prison issue jumpsuit as the rest of these women, but her face bore a kind of innocent sadness that struck me. I realize now that she looked to me like a personification of hope. I can’t explain why. That’s just how it seemed.

One thing Joy warned us about was not asking any of the prisoners what they’d done to get there. That was information that we’d only find out if the inmates volunteered it, and I can’t imagine them wanting to talk about it. It was so hard for me to imagine what these women had done to be sentenced to prison—not just jail, but prison. It’s true that it wasn’t a roomful of June Cleavers, but they weren’t a room full of Cruella De Vils either. It was easier to imagine the men breaking the law than the women.

I couldn’t imagine what this small woman could’ve possibly done to be arrested and sentenced to prison. I sang the Queen of Iowa and told the story of the woman I wrote it for, how she’d gotten AIDS from a rape, and I heard sniffles. I realized then that some of these women probably know what it’s like to be raped. I pray the hope in that song seeped into them. At one point, the woman on the front row who looked like hope said in a soft voice, “After the Last Tear Falls?” It occurs to me now that it’s the same song that spoke the most to the Queen of Iowa. We played the song at the end, and every line to that song hit me in a new way. I risked a glance up at the woman who’d requested it, and I saw a sublime picture.

She sat still as a statue, hugging her bible to her chest. Her head was slightly bowed and she stared at nothing in particular. I saw two perfect teardrops gliding down her wet cheeks and she had the faintest smile on her face. My chest convulsed and I was unable to sing for a few words, so pure was that image. A criminal holding on for dear life to her bible, brimming with regret for whatever she’d done to end up there, comforted down to her very marrow by the hope that Christ really is as powerful and loving and forgiving as He promises to be. And like I said, she was hope, and I found hope in her. It was easy to believe that the human I was singing for was an immortal, bound up in Christ and made for eternity, though her skin and bones were locked behind the bars of that cold, cold place. In Christ, she was light in the darkness. In Christ, she gave hope even as she was desperate for it. She poured it out even as she drank it up. Just like the men in the prison who thanked us while we were thanking them, and the other women who sat and cried and learned to not look away from their suffering but through it and into the eyes of God.

I'll never forget that picture. I'm writing this from the freedom of my living room in Nashville, and she's asleep in her prison cell right now, just as free.

"I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us."

I can’t remember her name.

AP

http://www.andrew-peterson.com/journals.php

2006-05-03T11:53:00.000-05:00

Thanks to a digital world, and plenty of harassment from friends and family who love them, Lara sent us some gorgeous pictures of her beautiful babes! Keaton is just a few months old-it's amazing how quickly the time goes. I thought I would share a couple photos since a handful of you out there know them, too! Also, my cousin Andrea just had her first baby, Aiden. Once again, so SO beautiful! Congratulations to both families! Please love on those kids for me until we can see them in person!

Parker and Hayden at Easter

Baby Keaton--the newest addition to Lara and Jeremy's family--Congratulations!

My cousin Andrea with Aiden-Welcome to our family Aiden! Brace yourself for karaoke at Christmas-or even more frightening-aunt kitty's rendition of barnyard christmas! It probably wont be long before she's sending you leopard print and leather so here's to hoping the genes are in your favor! ;)

My aunt Mary Lou with her first grandbaby!

2006-05-03T11:36:00.000-05:00

Celebration of Life 4.20.06

Tonight was a first for me. Every year our hospice organization has an annual celebration of life—an evening where Hospice staff members are reunited with the family and friends of our hospice patients who have passed away over the previous year. I have listened to my co-workers talk about the significance of this event and after a night full of remembrance, I understand.

Tonight, I watched survivors gather together. For some, laughter now comes easily and the stories of their loved ones are ever present on their lips. For others, the ache is still so raw and fierce but they brave the night anyway because they crave the presence of silent understanding. I wish I could tell you the stories of the heroes that were seated all around me—and of those that they represented. They would be the true, albeit imperfect stories of love and forgiveness and strength.
Love far beyond description.

And for those whom we remembered: our courageous patients--our greatest teachers. What a privilege to have known them. With gratitude, always, for the eyes they’ve given us to see.

2006-04-17T13:08:00.000-05:00

Easter at the McNeills!

We hope you all had a wonderful Easter! Typically, I am one homesick girl on holidays of any sort but thankfully, we spent our day with so many wonderful people that I didn't have time to feel sad. Bobby and Debbie were kind enough to open up their home to a whole group of us...lots of strays in need of family. It was wonderful! So, I'm attaching some photos--good times!

Luke, Kathy, and Malorie

Bobby and Debbie

Pepper

Debbie and JoAnne

Luke, Kyle and I