Quilts for Japan

A few days after the tsunami in Japan, I started praying for ways to help. I felt incredibly helpless, but I had to do something. I've rarely, if ever, had a tragedy strike me so personally, and I still don't know why this particular one should grieve me beyond any other, but it has.

It occurred to me then that there are many people - especially children - who have lost everything, and are homeless now. While Japan does a marvelous job of taking care of their own, what better way to show those people love than with handmade quilts?

Unfortunately, I had no idea how to get quilts to Japan, or even how many I could make. I am a very slow quilter (though I'm hoping with the new foot I just ordered for my sewing machine to be able to start quilting a bit more expeditiously!), and one person alone, even a very fast quilter, couldn't do much.

Then this morning I found the perfect place to send quilts through - they are collecting quilts from all over, so it's not just one person, and they have connections in Japan, so the quilts will have a local distribution center.

http://www.quiltersnewsletter.com/blogs/insideqn/2011/03/18/call-for-quilts-for-japan/

For my Canadian friends, if you don't want to have to ship to the US, I also found a Canadian group doing much the same thing.

http://www.quiltsforjapan.ca/home

If you are a quilter, and you've been looking for a more personal way to help Japan than just sending money, here's a great opportunity! They need the quilts by the end of April, so don't delay too long. I just bought fabric this weekend to start a spring quilt for Gracie, but I think that project will have to way just a little bit longer. She has a nice comforter on her bed already - the need in Japan is a bit more pressing.

Thankfully I have lots of scraps for quilt tops, and reams of fleece to use for backing (which also eliminates the need for batting - nice), so I shouldn't have too much difficulty in putting together one or two by the deadline.

Hopefully some of you will join me!

If You're Boring And You Know It ...

Wow, between my last three posts I've managed to garner one comment. I must be getting really boring. Sorry, guys!

The thing is, this week has been really terrible for me. I've felt like dirt for most of it. Unloved, unlovable, even unlikeable. None of which makes for really compelling blogging, you know? (And also, I thought I had outgrown the whole angst thing in my teens. Guess it was just lurking in the corners, darn angst. At least it should make good fresh reference points for my next YA novel.)

The good news is, I'm getting out of it. I did a ferocious pre-spring-cleaning cleaning on Wednesday and Thursday, which included moving the girls back into the same bedroom and turning Grace's room back into the playroom (and might I mention that in order to move her bed I had to take the mattress and box springs off the frame, turn each piece on its side, shove and haul it through one narrow doorway, across the hall, through another narrow doorway, and then set it all back up, all while trying to avoid two little "helpers"? I only mention this because accomplishing all that went a long way toward boosting my sense of self-worth). This was all good, but also not compelling blogging.

I'm also working on polishing up my query letter (and I DID blog about that, but on my writing blog, not here), which is taking up my sparse amount of free time.

So, boring life = boring blog posts, and I do apologize. Hopefully next week will be better!

Enjoy The Ride

 

We went back to our favorite state park this weekend. My uncle was visiting, so we all went up to run around, play, and look more at the waterfalls. In just one week, the water had increased so they were roaring even more, ever fuller, water always pouring and never stopping.

Isn't it like grace? God pours it down upon us, just cascades it down. Out of his fullness he gives us grace for grace, as John writes.

There has been much happening recently that makes my heart ache, that can seem overwhelming. Japan, obviously, for one. The adoption situation in Ethiopia, for another. Personal frustrations, little tiny things that pile up and seem insurmountable.

And yet. There are rocks and trees and heart-stopping drops along the way, but it only makes God's grace in our lives all the more powerful and impressive. Without the obstacles, our lives would just be calm rivers or streams, meandering along.

With more difficulty comes more grace, and a life lived in the knowledge of grace. It's easy to be complacent when you're a sluggish stream. When God grabs you and jumps over the edge with you (shouting "Wa-hoooo!" as we go) ...

That, my friends, is the opposite of complacent.

And personally, I would rather know God's power, his mercy, his love, and his grace, then slip along in a lifelong stupor.

Let's jump in and enjoy the ride! Our Guide is one who never fails!

The Promised Pictures

While we were collecting the pussy willows, we startled a pair of wild ducks, who took off and flew out of the marsh. Two proofs of spring, right there!

This picture makes me think of an AA Milne moment!

It is so nice to be able to walk with our girls and have both of them walk (or run, as the case may be). They both still ask to be carried once in a while, but it's not constant, which makes it so much more fun for all of us.

These girls LOVE their Papa!

Without hopping over the fence and balancing precariously on a cliff (which I might have tried had I not had two small children and a husband watching me) this was the best shot I could get of this waterfall. It was far more impressive in real life - Joy couldn't stop talking about it after we got home.

Two in May - my baby's growing up! She is one amazing kid.

Such a nice, nice day. I hope all my birthday celebrations can be so pleasant!

Almost-Birthday Thoughts

Gracie is snuggled up on my lap. I'm supposed to be delivering her to the bathroom so Papa can help her brush her teeth, but I'm procrastinating. We're all delightfully full from a delicious day-before-my-birthday dinner, and something about cuddling with a snuggly baby who is holding her sister's stuffed kitty and meowing to it is too precious to disturb.

Although her head is getting heavy on my arm!

*****

(an hour and a half later)


Girls are in bed, with teeth brushed, stories read, songs sung, and prayers spoken. And lots and lots of kisses and giggles, of course. I finished washing up the dishes from supper and am taking advantage of the warm-ish night to run my oven's self-cleaner, since the baked sweet potatoes decided to leak out their skins all over the bottom of the oven. Next time, I'm baking them in the microwave!

It's been a good weekend, albeit with a thread of sorrow running through everything whenever we think of the tsunami - which is almost constantly. I am amazed at how many people seem to have just taken this in stride, and I would worry about being over-sensitive except that Carl has been just as shaken by it as I am. I have to confess, it troubles me greatly at how it seems the world has been quicker and more heartfelt in its response than the Christian church at large - if there was ever a time for Christians to show themselves as loving and compassionate children of God, THIS WOULD BE IT.

Were it not for that, however, this weekend would have been almost perfectly lovely. The four inches of water in our basement yesterday morning due to the sump pump not working properly provide the "almost" in that statement! Even that, however, didn't seem so bad in light of Japan (kind of hard to complain about a wet basement with no damage when you look at even one of the pictures from the tsunami's aftermath).

The nice thing, I've decided, about having a birthday on Monday, is that you have a legitimate excuse to drag your celebration out all weekend. So yesterday, after getting the sump pump working again, we went to Panera for breakfast, followed by a pussy willow hunt and a walk in the state park later in the afternoon. There was still snow up on the mountain, but there was no wind, and it was warm enough that even without mittens none of us felt cold while we walked.

Well, until Gracie tripped and fell and caught herself with her hands, at which point she let her indignation at how we could be so cruel as to trick her into walking in snow made known quite plainly. But even then she stuck her thumb in her mouth and forgot about it until the next snowy patch, at which point she demanded to be carried.

It was a nice walk. And I was so, so pleased to find the pussy willows - that's always been a harbinger of spring for me, finding the pussy willows, and I've never been able to find them anyplace we've lived since we've been married. This year, though, we finally tracked them down, and now I have those lovely grey-starred branches delighting my eye (and fingers) every time I pass through the dining room.

We didn't do much beyond church today, but it's still been nice. I enjoyed trying my hand at these cupcakes (part of my birthday dessert tomorrow) this afternoon. They turned out a little squashed, and a little heavier than proper angel food should be, but not too bad for my first-ever attempt. Next time I'll get the cake flour and see if that makes them lighter (I adapted my all-purpose flour, but I still think the actual cake flour might be better). Since they are going to get torn up and used in trifle, though, I don't think the heaviness of them will be too much of a problem this time around!

I will be twenty-nine this year - the last year of my twenties. Sounds impossibly old for me! Carl reminded me that this is the age everyone older than me wants to still be - so it must have something going for it.

I've enjoyed twenty-eight, but I think I will enjoy twenty-nine even more. We'll have to see!

I took a bunch of pictures during our walk yesterday, but I haven't had a chance to get them on the computer yet. Maybe tomorrow!

Trying Not To Fret

Guys, I need some reassurance.

Gracie is 21 months (she'll be two at the end of May). She babbles all the time, but hardly any of it is intelligible to anyone else. For example:

Louise: "Grace, do you want some crackers?"

Grace: "Eh! Ah-ya-yo-do-yo-do" (while nodding emphatically).

Now, I know through past experience that this means yes (and the nodding is a good clue). Sometimes she can be persuaded to make the letter sound ("C-c-c" when we ask about crackers, for example), and of late she has become very good about always saying "Mu-mu-mu" when she wants more of something. There are times even when we think we can figure out what she is saying by cadence and number of syllables - just now, for example, she came over and I asked her if she wanted to get up in my lap.

"Eh. Ah ooh ah uh."

I'm pretty that meant "Yes. I would like that."

She will always say "bu-bu" for Grandpa, and usually "Pa-pa" for Papa, and she does most animal sounds very well (her owl chuckle is the cutest thing I've ever heard). She will not say Mamma, and Joy's name only occasionally. Other relatives/friends get the babble.

She almost always gets her point across by non-verbal cues, which might be one of the reasons she's so slow to speak. She has the most expressive face! She is also very stubborn, and trying to persuade her to do something is usually a sure way to make her decide not to do it (yes, I am worried about this next year, when she is two).

She also loves to sit and hold a book and babble throughout the pages - pausing as she turns each page, taking a deep breath before the next one - she just rarely says anything that goes along with the book itself (well, except for the Owl Babies book, where she "who-whos" on every page).

So, my question is, should I be concerned about her slow speech development, or is this perfectly natural? Joy doesn't do much talking for her - like I said, she is very capable of making her point on her own - so it's not typical second-child syndrome, where they don't talk because the older one does all the talking for them.

She does have more sounds that are understandable (she recently started saying "ee" when she's hungry, for "eat"), so she has been developing in her speech over the last few months. Just very slowly.

Joy started saying Mamma and Papa around ten months, and her speech just took off from there (which I know is very early, so I'm trying not to compare the two). Of course, she didn't walk until sixteen or seventeen months, while Grace has been running and climbing for what seems like forever. I know that each kid is different, but it would be nice to have some basis of comparison.

I hate to be a paranoid mom. But I also hate to ignore a problem when we should be doing something about it.

What do you guys think?

Also, see what I mean about expressive?

Please Pray

My good friend Jo just posted this link on Facebook. She and her husband are in the process of adopting a little girl from Ethiopia, and this new ruling could drastically delay things. If you have a moment, could you stop and pray for them and for all the others who are trying to adopt from Ethiopia? Thank you so much.

Call to Love

I’ve written on this before, but I’ve been reading articles and blogs recently that make me feel the need to repeat it.

If I had one wish for the church today, it would be that we could stop being so unkind to each other. Not even so much that we would stop dividing ourselves, but that, if we must have divisions, that we don’t treat those as excuses for cruelty and judgement.

This started back a few days ago, when I read a couple articles by Reformed pastors/teachers on Rob Bell’s probable stance on Hell. The general gist was, if he believes what we think he believes, we’re done with him. No dialogue. No loving concern. No allowance for the fact that he is asking reasonable questions, and that possibly his answer might have some validity (since the book in question wasn’t even published when these articles were written, they couldn’t, in fact, respond to his answers, just their assumptions of his answers, in light of the questions he was asking). And much of their criticism came, not from the Bible (some did, but not much), but from a position of Orthodoxy and church tradition.

Growing up in a Reformed church that put tradition above the Scriptures (and they did this openly and unapologetically), that is the sort of thing that raises my hackles.

And yet, yesterday morning when I read some more liberal Christian blogs, and they were sneering at the “Fundies” (Oh, how I’ve come to loathe that condescending name!) for tossing Rob Bell out for daring to go against tradition, my hackles went up again, this time on the other side.

My poor confused hackles.

These bloggers were also openly and without shame judging some people who raised concern with language used in Ann Voskamp’s new book. I read the initial post that they were criticizing, and while I think the writer was overly sensitive, I did not think she was unkind or personally attacking Ann, just stating her concerns with the book. Maybe she was unkind later in the comments; I didn’t read all those. But though her viewpoint might justly be called slightly stuffy, she has a right to her opinion, doesn’t she?

Apparently not. Apparently, whether you are Reformed or Liberal, it is perfectly acceptable to rip a person to shreds for having an opinion that differs from yours. We can show love to those outside the church, sure, but those inside, just on the other side, are fair game.

I do not have a problem with writing about your disagreements with other Christians (if I did, I obviously would not be writing this post). But do you know what word keeps coming to my mind when I read all these various pieces?

Cruel.

Cruel, malicious, hurtful, arrogant … not exactly words I wish to think of when I think of my fellows brothers and sisters in Christ.

“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law.” Galatians 5:22.

In the verses immediately prior to this one, Paul lists some of the works of the flesh - the antithesis of the fruit of the Spirit. Among them are enmity, strife, fits of anger, dissensions, and divisions.

I am not sure how anyone can think, from an honest and humble reading of the Scripture, that it is acceptable to the Lord to use mockery, cruelty, and judgementalism in speaking (or writing) to or about other Christians.

“But Paul used sarcasm!” someone might say. Or “Jesus spoke vehemently against the Pharisees and hypocrites!”

To the first point: yes, Paul occasionally used sarcasm to drive home a point. It was an accepted and common form of argument in those days, and was not meant, nor would have been taken, personally. Also, I believe he used plain speaking and loving rebuke with far more frequency than he resorted to sarcasm. And if you must use sarcasm today, I would refer you to men such as DA Carson or Anthony Thiselton, who wield it as a rapier to make a point, not a bludgeon to beat somebody over the head.

To the second point: Jesus used hard words where they were necessary. Yes. He was never cruel. He did not disguise meanness or pettiness as humor. He never said “Judge not … unless you are judging a judgmental person. Then it’s ok.” Or “Love one another as I have loved you … except for other of my followers who are being unloving. Them it’s ok to hate on.”

We are not to alter our actions or our attitude based on how others live. If others are being judgmental or harsh, isn’t it far more of a rebuke to them if we respond in loving-kindness and compassion? If we stoop to their level, or even, as so many seem to do, go down to a level below that, don’t we appear to justify to them their scorn for us?

Disagree, by all means. If you think someone is living or acting in a manner unworthy of Christ’s name, of course you must speak up, or live with a very uncomfortable conscience (or maybe that’s just me). But do so respectfully. Kindly, even. Humbly, acknowledging that God’s love is bigger than the most liberal Christian can comprehend, his wrath more powerful than the most Reformed of all can think, and above all, his holiness greater than anything we can ever hope to achieve or understand, and that these things being so, it is folly to assume we are absolutely right and our brother or sister absolutely wrong.

God is bigger than all of us, and his ways far above our understanding. For the most part, we are all just trying to live the best we can in accordance with the small part of his will we can understand. If we remember that, I think we might be able to be just a little bit more understanding to each other.

At least, that is my hope.

Note: I deliberately did not link to any of the posts I mentioned as having read. Frankly, I don't want to inflict them on others. I wish I hadn't read them.

When I Look In The Mirror ...

I see specks of toothpaste and smears from little hands reaching out to touch their reflections. Here and there are bigger smears, from Grace trying to kiss her doppelganger (which is positively adorable, by the way, and something I've never been able to capture on camera, though I wish so much I could).

Oh wait. That's looking at the mirror, not in it. When I look in the mirror, what do I see?

Goofy faces, usually, since I've never been able to resist the lure of making faces in the mirror - fake model poses, different exaggerated expressions, that sort of thing. It always makes me laugh.

So, I guess, unlike for a lot of women, the mirror is always my friend. Because the last thing I always see in it, before I turn away and get back to reality, is a laughing face.

I haven't done Five-Minute Friday for a while, but this prompt seemed like something I could work with. Come check out the rest of the posts over at The Gypsy Mama! Also, true story: I actually did this in FOUR minutes, but it seemed like such a good place to stop, I couldn't see blathering for another minute just for the sake of writing. Look, I'm learning moderation!

Learning to Trust

I woke up this morning to finding out more sad news about another friend. Seems like this sort of thing is getting more frequent the older I get.

I turn twenty-nine in a little over a week. I don't feel that close to thirty, but I have been thinking more recently about what it means to be "grown-up."

I was around ten when tragedy first struck close to home - my six-year-old cousin was diagnosed with leukemia. It is a horrifying thing, to be a little kid and realize that someone even younger, someone you love, might die. When your great-grandparents die ... well, it's sad, but they are old, and it's not quite so chilling. But another kid ... it's hard to comprehend.

By God's grace, my cousin survived, and is now the beautiful mama to one sweet little boy born just a week before my Grace, with another expected to arrive this summer. I cried when I first saw the pictures of her little man, partly because I was a hundred weeks pregnant myself, but mostly because I was overwhelmed with joy and gratitude over what God had done in her life.

As a kid and teenager, the first question that always came to mind when tragedy struck was "Why them?" I knew that it was the wrong question - Job was one of the first books of the Bible I had ever read all the way through - but that was still the instinctive initial reaction.

Now I'm an adult (scary). Tragedies and hardships are happening more and more frequently to people I love. I guess that's just part of growing up. Miscarriages, illness, death, divorce, financial disaster ... and not all of them with the happy ending God gave my cousin.

Now my instinctive response has shifted, just subtly. Instead of asking "Why them," my first response is a heartfelt, "O Lord, I do not know why I should be spared this." I don't know why some people my age should get cancer while the worst thing I am suffering these days is chronic lack of sleep and tennis elbow. I don't know why I should have had two healthy (albeit miserable) pregnancies, and two uneventful deliveries. I don't know.

But I know it is not because God loves me more than them. I know it's not because I've lived a better life and so am more blessed. I only know that God loves all his children enough to die for them, and that no matter what happens to a person, he is there. Holding them. Using these circumstances to shape them into becoming the very best person they could be.

For whatever reason - and sometimes I suspect I know what it is - he has determined that I need little, constant pinpricks and small trials to form me, instead of big tragedies. And I think it's because it is easier for me to handle a major crisis than it is to maintain joy and peace throughout a series of tiny but unending frustrations. So this is what he gives to me, in order that I might learn best how to die to myself and become more like him.

And so for me, part of growing up means that instead of asking "why them" when I see another hard thing hitting a friend, I pause, thank God for all he has given me, pray for strength and mercy for those who are suffering, and ask him once again to let me never forget how much he loves us all.

I don't have all the answers to human suffering. But I don't need them. For me, it is enough that I know and am known by the good God who does have all the answers.

I am learning to trust in him in all things, small and great.