Irreconcilable

The first time it happened, we were at Disneyland.  

Back in May of 2009, we took the kids and flew to California to visit Jeff's family and our friends there--the last family trip we've taken to California, as a matter of fact.  (We're eager to go again, but finances. *sigh*)  While we were there, Jeff's sister Kim blessed us immensely by giving us free tickets to Disneyland, and Jeff's mom blessed us immensely by keeping 16-month-old Tobin so we could take only Josiah and David (well, Shav got to go along, too...in my womb) ;-) and have a little more freedom to do things with them.  It was a spectacular day, filled with laughter and fun.

Except for one part of it.  Towards the end of the day, Jeff took the boys on a more thrilling ride, the name of which escapes me at the moment; and since I was pregnant, I decided to sit that one out.  While waiting for them, I fished a book out of my backpack and opened it, eager to snatch a few moments to read.  The book was A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini.  If you haven't read it, you should.  Also, if you haven't read it, I'll simply say that it's about Afghanistan, specifically the unbelievable challenges that women there face.  If you haven't read it, this next part might not make sense; but bear with me.

As I continued to read, I COULD NOT RECONCILE the horrible things I was reading about with the happy, carefree life I was living.  The contrast COULD NOT HAVE BEEN GREATER between beautiful, sunny Disneyland, with its throngs of happy-go-lucky families and its appearance of prosperity and freedom and the unspeakably difficult conditions in which the women in the book lived: no freedom, much pain, no wealth, much abuse, no hope.  And I think that last one is the worst of all, because without hope, what does one have?

I sat there on the bench at Disneyland, sunglasses hiding my eyes, my hands holding the book, my ears hearing the cheerful voices around me, but as if from a great distance.  Because of the intensity and the power of what I was reading, I felt myself removed from the reality that was swirling around me in southern California and suspended somewhere between there and Afghanistan.  

I was wrecked.

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It happened again tonight.

No, I wasn't at Disneyland (too bad, right?).  :)  And no, I wasn't reading A Thousand Splendid Suns again.  But I was reading a book that gripped me so tightly I felt myself transported away from real life here in snowy, peaceful Virginia and set down in a concentration camp in Germany in 1945.  

The book is called Rose Under Fire by Elizabeth Wein and was recommended recently by Rebekah, so I reserved it at the library and eagerly started reading it.  Tonight I COULD NOT PUT IT DOWN until I had finished the last page.  That's not totally unheard of for me, because I do find it easy to become engrossed in a book and not want to stop reading--especially when I *should* be doing something else, like dishes or laundry.  ;-)  But it was different this evening.  I was so swept up in the story that I would literally look up from my book, glance around the living room, and find it strange to see our furnishings that ordinarily look quite normal to me!  I would look up, see the boys' coats and hats and gloves and boots from their time spent playing outside in the snow today, and feel so puzzled by that.  I'd look down, read some more, then let my eyes wander from the book...until they found something like the colored pencils Moriah had scattered all over the floor earlier this evening...and then it just wouldn't make sense.  Like the Disneyland experience, I COULD NOT RECONCILE what I was reading with what life was really like for me tonight.  I literally had to tell myself, "It's OK.  I'm in Virginia.  It snowed today.  The kids had fun in it.  Tomorrow is Valentine's Day.  I need to remember to get the gifts for the boys out of the minivan tonight.  We have plenty of wood for the woodstove.  We will be warm enough.  We have food.  We aren't starving."  Well, you get the idea. 

The contrast between the safe, happy time that this little sweetheart had today...

...and the conditions of utter horror that existed in the Nazi concentration camps was so huge that it almost defied belief.

It wrecked me.

I know I'll wake up tomorrow morning and be back in touch with the reality of my amazing, secure, abundant life; and I'm grateful for that.  But tonight, I feel as if the veil has been lifted, and I've glimpsed anew what life is and has been like for so many people born into circumstances so much more difficult than mine.  That chasm is so wide that I can't even mentally reconcile it, but I can--and I will, every single day--say thank you for this life I've been given.

Of Caves, and Gifts Too Precious to Use

I've been in a cave for a few days.

Oh, not a literal one, of course, but a mental and emotional one.  I wasn't even sure I wanted to tiptoe out of this cave and post anything online tonight, but here I am, reluctantly.  I haven't figured out exactly why I feel so hermit-ish.  Well, not much use pondering that for too long, I suppose.

Speaking of caves...  Sunday a week ago, Jeff gave Josiah and David the assignment of looking up the Biblical account of David, who hid in the cave of Adullam and longed for a drink of water from his hometown of Bethlehem, and then, when some of his men got one for him at the risk of their lives, poured it out on the ground.  Jeff wanted them to not only find the story and familiarize themselves with it, but also think about some of the deeper meaning behind it.  They eagerly embraced the challenge, and it was fun to watch their enthusiasm for their assignment.  After they found it in the Bible (in 2 Samuel 23) and read it, we talked about it together; and then Jeff gave them and Tobin and Shav the task of acting it out, which they did with great fanfare.  It was a sweet, spiritual time together as a family.  

It also brought to my mind a time when someone did something similar for me.  Not that anyone crept through enemy lines to bring me back water from Bethlehem's well!  But when we lived in San Diego, a kind friend named Adriana made a cake for me, and I felt so honored and humbled by her gift that I could hardly eat it.  If my memory is correct, it was a heart-shaped cake...and, more significantly, it was the first time she had ever made a cake.  And she made it for me.

When I was younger, I read the story of David's men bringing him the water, expecting him to feel very grateful, I'm sure, and to drink it--obviously!  I always thought that if I were them, I would have thought, "Good grief, David!  We just risked our LIVES for that water, and you're using it to water the grass?  WHY IN THE WORLD would you do THAT?"  I didn't get it at all.

Now I understand that sometimes a gift is so precious that you can hardly bring yourself to use or consume it.  Adriana's cake was that way.  (Although I do remember that we did eat it, so the comparison between that cake and the water that David's men brought him only goes so far.)  ;-)

All of that makes me think of grape jelly.  Why?  Because, until recently, on one of the shelves in my cellar sat a jar of grape jelly, made by my mother and labeled with her handwriting.

It's the last jar of grape jelly left from the years when she used to fill the cellar with home-canned goodness.

I've looked at that jar of grape jelly for a long time, not wanting to open it, not wanting to admit the finality of the thing: that this will be the last jar of grape jelly from my mother.

It is, like David's water, almost too precious to use.

However, I have enough of my mother's sensible nature in me that, unlike David, I am not going to pour it out on the ground.  ;-)  Instead, we've been enjoying it on rolls and on peanut butter & jelly sandwiches; and as I spread it on the bread, I'm reminded of the many sacrifices of time and energy my mother made to provide good food for her family and the countless ways she loved and served us.  And I am grateful.

Water from Bethlehem.
A cake made by an inexperienced cook.
Grape jelly, the last of its kind.
All expressions of love that were poured out, either literally or figuratively, before the Lord, the One who sees us and who is with us.

Even when we're in a cave.

In the Big Ol' Net, Vol. 3

You know how you can tell when I've run out of time late at night to finish a "real" blog post but really want to post something quick anyway?  Because I post one of these internet round-up things.  :)

(Vol. 1 is here.  Vol. 2 is here.)

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I found it fascinating to read Isaac Asimov's predictions back in 1964 about what life would be like 50 years in the future.  Now that we're here, have we achieved what he thought we would?  :)

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I looked at this with Josiah and David, and these camouflaged animals blew our minds.  The Creator of all of these is AMAZING!  (And #16 was incredibly difficult to find!)

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I'm always interested to hear how others "do school," and this particular article about Finland's school system was particularly encouraging to me because the way we personally homeschool is more similar to it than to the public school system here in America.

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It goes without saying that the transfer of faith from Jeff and I to our children is one of the absolute highest priorities of our lives.  With that in mind, I read with special interest this article about why children are leaving the faith.

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This video of forgiveness after tragedy is kind of long (9 minutes and 42 seconds), but it's a wonderful story of redemption.  The part that hit me the most, however, occurs at 3:55 when Erik speaks of our lives as being a 3x5 snapshot that we're trying to make look right, but we have no idea that God "paints on a canvas the size of the universe."  In the recent challenges to get my heart soft enough to accept the changes that are coming as a result of my mom's Alzheimer's, this spoke deeply to me.  This word picture of God painting on a canvas the size of the universe while I hold a 3x5 picture in my hand makes me feel small; but even as it humbles me, it lifts me up to great heights--and fills me with hope that God is making something beautiful out of this pain.

Wordless Wednesday {Wednesdays Are for Violin Lessons}

They Keep Finding New Uses for It

I still haven't figured out exactly what to call it, this indoor bouncy house thingy that defies a concise, specific name.  When we first got it with Christmas money from Grandma Fisher, I was delighted to see how much Moriah--and her brothers--enjoyed it.  But eventually, as is inevitable with such an item, it got a leak in it; and the bouncy floor part of it wasn't very bouncy anymore.  Jeff found a leak and patched it, but still the air slowly escaped.  He looked some more, patched some more, and still the same result.  After quite a few repetitions of this scenario, he got the brilliant idea to turn it over, and it became the boys' clubhouse--not that Moriah couldn't enter if she wanted, but she never seemed very interested in trying to crawl into it, so we let the boys take dominion over it.  I was just glad that what, in retrospect, seemed like a very poor decision on my part to buy the thing in the first place turned into something else of value, even when the original intent was gone!

This evening, Tobin came up with yet another use for it.  See?

 A lounge chair for two, just perfect for a boy and his little sister.  :)

 You think it would hold me?  :)

I might just sneak into the living room while all the kids are sleeping and try it.  Shhhhhh, don't tell 'em...  ;-)

Snow in NC+Man from PA=Happy Me in VA

Remember that snow that fell in North Carolina a few days ago?  That, my friends, was the best snow that ever fell in that state.  Why?  Because...

My nephew Jacob, who lives in Pennsylvania, was supposed to play in a soccer tournament in North Carolina this weekend; and my brother David was going to go with him.  But because of the winter weather, the tournament was cancelled, so since he didn't have to drive all the way to North Carolina, my brother decided to just drive halfway and come to visit us here in Virginia.  I love impromptu changes of plans like that!  :)

Usually when we get together with our Pennsylvania family, it's for a reason: Christmas or Easter or something like that.  But yesterday's visit was different in that we had no real agenda.  We just hung out.

It was sweet.  :)

So what did we do with ourselves during such an open, relaxed day?  Well...

Uncle David crawled into the boys' clubhouse (which is this turned upside down), and paid his dues to be part of their club.

A penny a week was the original amount of the dues (which go to the eventual building of a treehouse, according to the club members), but then my boys had a quick discussion and decided they should raise it to a nickel a week for anyone over the age of seven.  Uncle David did even better: he paid A WHOLE DOLLAR.  ;-)

 What else did he do?  Uncle David held his little niece.  Moriah took quite a liking to him and often went over to him, wanting to be picked up.  Maybe because he's so tall.  :)

 What else did he do?  Uncle David played games with his nephews...

 ...Mexican train, as seen here...

 ...but also I Doubt It, a game of cards.  (Could also be called Who's The Best Liar?)  ;-)

 What else did he do?  He posed for the picture of the Davids that we always have to take...and what do you know? He also got photobombed by that Tobin Bear.  :)

Besides the things pictured, he also...
~ ate our simple lunch of potato soup with us,
~ burned his tongue on Jeff's salsa,  ;-)
~ spent time at my parents' house,
~ listened to Mother play the piano,
~ bought yummy, unique Russian desserts at a fundraiser bake sale for the girl who was hit in the road close to our house back on Labor Day,
~ walked through and looked around the building that was the first school that he and I went to, way back in the early 80s (that building is now a Russian Baptist church, and the fundraiser was held there, so it was a perfect opportunity for David and I to retrace our early educational steps--so much fun to reminisce!),
~ loaded some dishes into the dishwasher,
~ worked on getting a fire going in our woodstove,
~ ate sweet and sour meatballs and rice with us for supper,
~ and most of all, graced our day with his cheerful, patient, steady, loving presence.

As you might imagine, the main reason he made this quick trip was to be part of the family discussion about the next step in my mom's Alzheimer's journey.  He spent time talking with my dad and observing my mom and getting a feel for what life is like on a daily basis right now.  He composed and sent us a really wonderful email today, based on his observations.  Having a cool but caring head to share insights is so helpful on this journey.

The cherry on top of this special treat of a day was that my brother Doug, who is a truck driver who drives all across the country, "just happened" to arrive in our town yesterday evening; and on his way back up to Pennsylvania, David met up with him.  We can't remember for sure, but we think it's the first time they've seen each other since December of 2000.  That is significant.

And all because God gave North Carolina the unexpected gift of a snowfall.  :)

Sweet {Literary} Treats for Valentine's Day

Some nights are for sharing deep, meaningful thoughts here on the blog.  And some nights are...not.  ;-)

This is one of those "not" nights.  Although I could write pages and pages about our family's adjustment to my mom's worsening Alzheimer's, I'm going to ignore all that for the moment and share some sweet pleasures I've enjoyed recently: children's books for Valentine's Day.  :)

I didn't go on any big search for books in this category, and I'm sure there are scores more that I am not familiar with; but three of these I happen to have on my shelf, and the fourth one was borrowed from the library a couple of weeks ago after it happened to catch my eye.  I like them all very much.

The first, Valentine by Carol Carrick, is a tender tale of a single mother raising a daughter with the help of the grandmother--and the weak, dying lamb that is born on Valentine's Day to the grandmother's favorite sheep.  Even though the scenario involves a single parent, it's not heavy at all but is a simple illustration of the life-giving power of love.

And I love the illustrations (done by Paddy Bouma).  :)

The next is a brief, historical account of the man for whom this holiday is named.  I'm not enough of a ancient Roman historian to know if all the details in this story are accurate; but even without that, it is wonderful to read of the sacrificial love of Valentine, as well as the unwavering faith that ultimately led to his martyrdom.  Of course, the martyrdom is only alluded to in this book, not written out in full detail!  I think this one is a great introduction to the story behind the holiday, a valuable thing to learn about all of our holidays!

This next one has been a favorite of mine ever since I got it at the Green Valley Book Fair in 2007.  :)  I'm crazy about the way these two bears relate to each other--so generous, so loving, so playful, so silly.

So, so sweet.  And the fantastic illustrations by Jan Brett, one of my favorite illustrators, are icing on the cake!

This last one is the one I spotted at the library and decided to bring home, and I'm glad I did.  The Little Bear books make me smile (Little Bear's mother is so sensible, not to mention cheerful, patient, and loving), and it was fun to get acquainted with a previously-unknown-to-us book from a previously-known-to-us author!  :)

Although these books aren't deep by any stretch of the imagination, they do have a whole lot of love mixed into them!  Love for family (close and extended), love for animals, love for God, love for the hurt, love for the beauty of nature, love for a husband or wife, love for a child, love for neighbors.

This much love makes life so sweet, but at least this kind of sweet is the calorie-free kind.  ;-)