Welcome to Napili!
We have been in our new home for going on four months now, and I think I'm unpacked...maybe. But I didn't say organized.
Don and I took over this place from the dear couple who had our dog, jeep, and snorkel gear (all important yet not interchangeable) the last week of September, and we have been busy nesting ever since. This nest - the latest in a series of a few nests - is a bit smaller than what our last homes have been. At least long term homes, and oh please God let this be a long term home. Anyway, it is not as big as our furniture is used to. This was made abundantly, dramatically clear as we hit our moving day. The guys we hired were a tough, fast moving, and very competent crew, but the floor ran out before the furniture did. The movers wanted to place furniture as it was going to be placed, but we just looked on them fondly...and laughed. It isn't even the slightest bit of hyperbole to say that every bit of space was filled with furniture and boxes. The piece de resistance was the sofa set between the fridge and the kitchen island, thus making them both useless. I wonder if Weightwatchers ever thought of this...??? Anyway, we had to crawl on top of things to get to our air mattress bed in the guest room. Tonight on "Hoarders": The Daltons Move to Napili.
Before we did the actual moving in part, came the painting part - always a big favorite of Don's. But he knows that his wife has an allergy to Navajo White in spaces larger than three square feet. By and large, this place is just such a pasty beige-y white - with a couple of notable exceptions: the front bathroom was pained a cheery pastel green, and one of the secondary bedrooms, that served as a nursery for their ADORABLE baby girl, Selah, was painted a pink-coral color, with pastel stripes on one wall (including pinstripes done to OCD perfection). The bathroom we left as is, but while the pinky-coral striped room was every little keiki wahine's dream, for an office...not so much. There were also a couple of accent walls - a dark brown one in the living room behind where the tv goes...theoretically, and an aubergine (browny-eggplanty-purply) at the end of the hallway. We opted to leave those as they were, also, but chose a nice sage green for living room, dining room, foyer, and family room. Fortunately, they are all in the same room. We chose a warm camel (the color, not the beast) for the office, and a cinnamon brown for the bedroom (makes it very cocoony). We also decided to extend the green into the hallway and leave the kitchen area the boring white. So why am I telling you all that?!!? So I can tell you this:
Painting any place, large or small, can be a daunting task, so we enlisted the help of a good friend from church. Justin handled all the tedious stuff - removing switchplates, removing drapery and blinds and their hardware, taping off, and painting the 17 coats of primer needed for the baby room turned office. Our furniture and boxes were coming two days after we started painting. We figured we would have plenty of time. We were wrong. The problem with choosing darker colors is that it takes more than just one coat - and I do NOT care what they say on the ads!!! The problem with painting in a more rainy climate like we have here in Napili is that nothing dries as quickly as you would like. On top of that, we were three grown people trying to share two ladders, move around paint cans/trays/rollers/brushes, step lightly on drop cloths, and try to stay out of each other's way. What made it more adventurous is our very narrow hallway that is only one-and-a-half super models wide. None of us are super models. When it came time to work on said hallway, we at first attempted politeness and deference. When it was obvious that time was running short and the movers would be there before we knew it, we became Laurel and Hardy plus one. Or, more aptly, as my husband pointed out, the Three Stooges. As movers were arriving with our stuff, Justin was getting the window treatments back on and switchplates on, I was pulling miles of tape, and Don was still doing touchup. I felt like one of those home improvement shows where the object is to redecorate a fifteen bedroom mansion with a budget of $28.57 and a time frame of six hours. We lost. But ultimately, it got done. Praise God.
Movers gone and walls painted, I began to wrap my mind around the task at hand. I think I described it as trying to fit a size ten foot into a size six stiletto. Of course, I only know about such things in the abstract.... Moving on. You know those frustrating little tile puzzles, where you have to move those sticky squares of cheap plastic, that have either tongues or grooves on their sides, trying to make a picture of a car or some kind of creepy face?!?! Well, that is pretty much what we were trying to do - except the creepy face part. Of course, with those little plastic tile puzzles, one could always cheat by prying the little tiles out then popping them back in to make the desired picture of the man with the unfortunate features. No such cheating possible here. We would move things around, from place to place, slipping things around until all found a home. Sometimes, it meant that the dining table was in the living room and the dining chairs were dangling from the chandelier. Of top importance was getting access to our fridge which I had to convince my beloved was more urgent than getting the big tv set up. We actually killed two birds with one stone - we slid boxes and occasional tables toward the sliding glass door, making a spot for the sofa, which then had to be moved further along to make room for the credenza, upon which stood precious flatscreen, then scooted the sofa back to in front of said television. Right in front. As in squooshed right up to it. Don and I had to access the sofa from either side, avoiding the plastic that was still attached to parts we couldn't reach, then scrunch up together for our tv watching - which consisted of a couple of squiggly channels, since the cable wasn't hooked up yet. I think we should have just read a book instead...
The bedrooms/office were suffering from their own personal brand of lunacy and mayhem. Both the master bed and the guest bed had been completely dissembled. Over a year before. Don and his accomplice- uh, I mean, helpful friend, was a young man from our church. They took apart the 2,045 pieces from each bed and put them in a bag. The bags went...somewhere. Considering that we left with almost the haste of people trying to escape without paying next month's rent. Wait....bad metaphor... Suffice to say, it was not the usual organization with which I like to do things. After having a few nights on a blowup bed, and over a year without my big comfy bed, I was no longer willing to wait until hardware magically appeared, so we began to search in earnest. After a long while of fruitless searching, Don brightened with a silent "aha!" on his face. He went to our good drill, opened the case - EUREKA!! All the AWOL hardware had been discovered - but we still had to assemble the beautiful beast known as our Master Bed.
To be continued...
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Monday, January 16, 2012
Land Legs
Way back in the olden days of 2000, Don and I took a cruise to celebrate his 50th birthday. We lived in San Diego at the time, and we found the perfect voyage for us - a repositioning cruise (meaning the ship was changing from its winter Mexican Riviera cruises to its summer Alaska cruises) that would depart from San Diego, then bounce up the coast until we reached Alaska, then scoot around a few ports there. In all, it was about two weeks, and what a trip it promised to be. While not normally prone to seasickness, I had a terrible bout of it on our one and only family cruise a few years previous (a four-day, three-night trip to the Bahamas through a tropical depression. Who navigates these things!?!?), and I was determined to not repeat it. Ever. My doctor prescribed a magical little dot - or, more precisely, a few magical little dots - to place behind my ear, so as to prevent my repeat the scenario of me lying on a bed, praying for death, watching the little weather nav thing they had on the ship's t.v., and cursing all on the crew who refused to GO AROUND THE BLESSED THING!!! I still shudder a little at the memory....but I digress.
So, now armed with a little dot behind my ear, and a few more dots in my luggage, Don and I made our way on to this adventure on the high seas. Lo and behold, the magical dots worked!! Even when things got a little gnarly between Seattle and Victoria, I was good. I was smoooooooth. After thirteen plus days, we landed in Vancouver and were met by friends who would be entertaining us for a couple of days until we flew back to San Diego. I had felt nary an ounce of queasy - until we hit land. It seems that my entire system, from my toes to my nose - and particularly my inner ears - had gotten so used to the motion of the ocean that it was now traumatized by the...stand of the land. Okay. It sounded better in my head. Point being, I was now ground-sick. I not only was completely nauseous, I wobbled like a party girl on a Friday night. It's amazing how many walls and columns kept leaping in front of me. My mother said that I needed to find my land legs again. It took me a few days, but by the time we landed back in San Diego, I was all better and could actually pass a field sobriety test.
I have found myself in just such a metaphorical predicament the last few months. If you are a regular reader, then you know all the craziness and ups and downs of our life the past 16 months. If you are not....well, ya gotta read the stuff to catch up with the rest of the class!! Anyway, God took us on that difficult voyage - and while we never, ever stopped longing for home, we got our sea legs and learned how to get by and be grateful for His provision. When God did bring us back, and put us in this home, we got knocked sideways again by the death of my mom. The land legs I was just gaining were all skewiffy (one of my mom's favorite made-up words) again. I was still unpacking, then packing to go back to the mainland, returning home to the considerable chaos that exists with a new move, and rolling headlong into the holidays. Egad. Writing didn't just take a backseat, it was left somewhere on the curb.
While all this sounds like a fancy, wordy way to make excuses....it is just that. I told Don recently that if I am going to identify myself as a writer, then I'd best get to writin'! Don't know if sounding folksy makes me more creative sounding, but it just seemed to fit at the time. All this is to serve fair warning: the next chapter - however long God has designed it to be - will be flooding your inboxes in the next few days, with more to follow. I pray that God will use these words to serve some kind of purpose, and for His glory - not mine. It blesses me when I hear from many of you, but I will try to keep my ego in check. I can't promise that they will all be succinct. In fact, it's a good bet that NONE of them will be so. But remember....
You have been warned...
So, now armed with a little dot behind my ear, and a few more dots in my luggage, Don and I made our way on to this adventure on the high seas. Lo and behold, the magical dots worked!! Even when things got a little gnarly between Seattle and Victoria, I was good. I was smoooooooth. After thirteen plus days, we landed in Vancouver and were met by friends who would be entertaining us for a couple of days until we flew back to San Diego. I had felt nary an ounce of queasy - until we hit land. It seems that my entire system, from my toes to my nose - and particularly my inner ears - had gotten so used to the motion of the ocean that it was now traumatized by the...stand of the land. Okay. It sounded better in my head. Point being, I was now ground-sick. I not only was completely nauseous, I wobbled like a party girl on a Friday night. It's amazing how many walls and columns kept leaping in front of me. My mother said that I needed to find my land legs again. It took me a few days, but by the time we landed back in San Diego, I was all better and could actually pass a field sobriety test.
I have found myself in just such a metaphorical predicament the last few months. If you are a regular reader, then you know all the craziness and ups and downs of our life the past 16 months. If you are not....well, ya gotta read the stuff to catch up with the rest of the class!! Anyway, God took us on that difficult voyage - and while we never, ever stopped longing for home, we got our sea legs and learned how to get by and be grateful for His provision. When God did bring us back, and put us in this home, we got knocked sideways again by the death of my mom. The land legs I was just gaining were all skewiffy (one of my mom's favorite made-up words) again. I was still unpacking, then packing to go back to the mainland, returning home to the considerable chaos that exists with a new move, and rolling headlong into the holidays. Egad. Writing didn't just take a backseat, it was left somewhere on the curb.
While all this sounds like a fancy, wordy way to make excuses....it is just that. I told Don recently that if I am going to identify myself as a writer, then I'd best get to writin'! Don't know if sounding folksy makes me more creative sounding, but it just seemed to fit at the time. All this is to serve fair warning: the next chapter - however long God has designed it to be - will be flooding your inboxes in the next few days, with more to follow. I pray that God will use these words to serve some kind of purpose, and for His glory - not mine. It blesses me when I hear from many of you, but I will try to keep my ego in check. I can't promise that they will all be succinct. In fact, it's a good bet that NONE of them will be so. But remember....
You have been warned...
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Postlude
Funny, I thought I was done with this particular chapter - or group of chapters. We are back home in Maui, getting settled into our new place. But tonight, in the middle of the unpacking, we are packing once again.
You see, my mother died. Ironically, when I was noting the passing of one year since having a home with some security, my mother was passing from this world into the arms of her saviour. So, we are going back to the mainland tomorrow to celebrate her life with friends and family, then we'll return home here to our little island in the Pacific.
But I'm okay - at least as okay as one is in the face of losing a parent. In fact, my tears are equally balanced by a sense of joy and gratitude - not just for my mom, that she is without pain or worries any more, even though that would be enough to keep a smile on my face. I am blown away by the wisdom and tenderness and compassion of our Lord.
I spent a lot of time the past year crying out to God - and many mere mortals, as demonstrated in blogs - as to why we were going through what we were going through. And now it is so clear. He did it for me.
My mom and I have had some rough times in recent years, but this summer, they all seemed to fade away. I got to spend time with her. She was so tender and sympathetic with our plight, and genuinely thrilled for us when we returned a month ago. During our time in what we then viewed as our exile, I was able to complete a novel I had been writing for -literally - years. Mother read it, loved it, then kept bugging me about when it would be published and when was the sequel coming out!
I ask myself, would I have finished the book had we not been in that position? Likely not. Would we have spent that kind of time with her and the rest of our family had we not been forced to? Certainly not.
God is so good.
Mother was planning a cruise out here to Hawaii, but she had been becoming increasingly confused of late. I think that scared her and prevented her from making those plans firm. I praise God for sparing her the loss of her sharp mind. I praise Him further that my Mother's family has been spared the pain of watching their Matriarch slip slowly away, losing bits of herself as she faded.
So, I end this series of blogs with one blog more than I intended. Seems right. Because what I intend is never, ever better than what God designs.
You see, my mother died. Ironically, when I was noting the passing of one year since having a home with some security, my mother was passing from this world into the arms of her saviour. So, we are going back to the mainland tomorrow to celebrate her life with friends and family, then we'll return home here to our little island in the Pacific.
But I'm okay - at least as okay as one is in the face of losing a parent. In fact, my tears are equally balanced by a sense of joy and gratitude - not just for my mom, that she is without pain or worries any more, even though that would be enough to keep a smile on my face. I am blown away by the wisdom and tenderness and compassion of our Lord.
I spent a lot of time the past year crying out to God - and many mere mortals, as demonstrated in blogs - as to why we were going through what we were going through. And now it is so clear. He did it for me.
My mom and I have had some rough times in recent years, but this summer, they all seemed to fade away. I got to spend time with her. She was so tender and sympathetic with our plight, and genuinely thrilled for us when we returned a month ago. During our time in what we then viewed as our exile, I was able to complete a novel I had been writing for -literally - years. Mother read it, loved it, then kept bugging me about when it would be published and when was the sequel coming out!
I ask myself, would I have finished the book had we not been in that position? Likely not. Would we have spent that kind of time with her and the rest of our family had we not been forced to? Certainly not.
God is so good.
Mother was planning a cruise out here to Hawaii, but she had been becoming increasingly confused of late. I think that scared her and prevented her from making those plans firm. I praise God for sparing her the loss of her sharp mind. I praise Him further that my Mother's family has been spared the pain of watching their Matriarch slip slowly away, losing bits of herself as she faded.
So, I end this series of blogs with one blog more than I intended. Seems right. Because what I intend is never, ever better than what God designs.
Saturday, October 1, 2011
The Subjective Year
Technically, time is supposed to be an objective measure. It doesn't have an opinion or mood. It doesn't change with the weather. It can't change its tempo. Even though there are very smart people who invented leap years, minutes, and seconds to keep us calibrated, they do it at precise intervals - not at the whim of somebody whose name was drawn from a hat, for the honor of choosing when or how much to leap. Time just is.
Except...where our subjective interpretation is involved.
Take, for instance, a year. Is it twelve short months? Or is it fifty-two long weeks? Our granddaughter turned three earlier this year, and to have to wait another year before turning four is so impossibly long, she has to help it along in increments ("I am three-and-a-half!"). I, on the other hand, refuse to even acknowledge the passing of another year at warp speed. I am not another year older until it is the hour of my actual arrival into the world. A year left in college seems too much to handle for the twenty-one year old, while the eighteen-year-old who just began would give anything to have only that one year remaining. A young military wife spends the long year of her husband's deployment praying that the months will speed by. Tell that same young wife that she has only a year of life left due to the cancer spreading poison in her body and her fervent prayer is that the days will go so very slowly. Time is objective - until our perspective gives it value.
Our first year here on Maui was learning the rhythm of this island - and the time seemed quick, indeed. The next year dragged, as we lost any sense of rhythm in this or any place. A year ago today, we were moved out entirely from our lovely Ka'anapali condo. A year later, we have begun the process of unpacking in our new home, those inanimate objects which have personality to me, and have been in forced hibernation. It has been a year since we have slept in our own big bed. A year since we ate off our own dishes and sipped from our own glasses. A year since I have painted. A year since I have seen my existing art. A year since we have had a proper home office. It has been nearly a year since our own beloved dog has been with us. And now, one very long and difficult year later, it has all come back together again.
We could spend (waste) our time bemoaning the tough times of the past twelve months, but that would give short shrift to the work God was doing on us in that time. I, after all, want to pay close attention to the lessons He was teaching us in hope that we will NEVER have to be taught them again! So, I need to praise God for the year past - and that the year HAS passed. I need to trust in Him for the year ahead, know that I don't know what I don't know. Above all, I need to remember that time was an invention for man, and that Adam was the one who made it finite because of his choice for a fruity snack. In God's eyes, this is only a vapor, a momentary mist - a blink in eternity.
Amen.
Except...where our subjective interpretation is involved.
Take, for instance, a year. Is it twelve short months? Or is it fifty-two long weeks? Our granddaughter turned three earlier this year, and to have to wait another year before turning four is so impossibly long, she has to help it along in increments ("I am three-and-a-half!"). I, on the other hand, refuse to even acknowledge the passing of another year at warp speed. I am not another year older until it is the hour of my actual arrival into the world. A year left in college seems too much to handle for the twenty-one year old, while the eighteen-year-old who just began would give anything to have only that one year remaining. A young military wife spends the long year of her husband's deployment praying that the months will speed by. Tell that same young wife that she has only a year of life left due to the cancer spreading poison in her body and her fervent prayer is that the days will go so very slowly. Time is objective - until our perspective gives it value.
Our first year here on Maui was learning the rhythm of this island - and the time seemed quick, indeed. The next year dragged, as we lost any sense of rhythm in this or any place. A year ago today, we were moved out entirely from our lovely Ka'anapali condo. A year later, we have begun the process of unpacking in our new home, those inanimate objects which have personality to me, and have been in forced hibernation. It has been a year since we have slept in our own big bed. A year since we ate off our own dishes and sipped from our own glasses. A year since I have painted. A year since I have seen my existing art. A year since we have had a proper home office. It has been nearly a year since our own beloved dog has been with us. And now, one very long and difficult year later, it has all come back together again.
We could spend (waste) our time bemoaning the tough times of the past twelve months, but that would give short shrift to the work God was doing on us in that time. I, after all, want to pay close attention to the lessons He was teaching us in hope that we will NEVER have to be taught them again! So, I need to praise God for the year past - and that the year HAS passed. I need to trust in Him for the year ahead, know that I don't know what I don't know. Above all, I need to remember that time was an invention for man, and that Adam was the one who made it finite because of his choice for a fruity snack. In God's eyes, this is only a vapor, a momentary mist - a blink in eternity.
Amen.
Monday, August 29, 2011
Return from Babylon
We are going home. I guess I should rephrase to say we are returning home. "Going Home" for Christians has an entirely different - and eternal - meaning. But for us, it means the end of what Don and I have called our exile.
In the Old Testament, starting at 2 Kings, we see the Israelites sent packing by God out of their Land of Milk and Honey to set up camp as exiles in Babylon. While we in no way compare ourselves to these longsuffering - if stubborn and rebellious - people, the two of us struggled to describe our..."situation". We did not move back home. Maui has become our home. We certainly weren't on vacation. There are a lot more wayside adventures, amusement parks, and tourist traps on a vacation. It wasn't even our idea to come to the mainland at that time. Exile. Yup. And like the Israelites, we felt God's hand in all of it.
Like any difficult season, one is not the same as before the difficulties. Whether the changes are good or bad is largely up to the one enduring it. We have a little bit of bad, and (we pray), lots of good. Of the bad, most obvious is an increased....shall we say....thickness to Don and I. I am a foodie - love to cook, love to eat. Unfortunately, under stress I tend to use food for more than nutrition. On top of that, we are away from our favorite forms of exercise: walking the hills of Maui and snorkeling in her warm waters. This combo is not good. We intend to remedy that quickly.
The other bad thing isn't all bad. I feel a little residue of sadness, kind of an emotion scar, as it were. That's okay. I had a hard time coming to grips with that, since I should be over-the-moon happy, right? But just like the four inch scar I have on my leg reminds me NOT to enter rough, murky waters under which lava rocks lurk, this scar reminds me of the tenuous nature of my plans and the foolishness of thinking I can depend on those plans. This shadow also reminds me to never forget the sovereignty of Almighty God. I'm not saying I'm comfortable with this feeling, yet, but I understand its value.
The good stuff is that we absolutely have seen our marriage made so much stronger. We have seen a few ugly moments, but they were brief. For the most part, we feel a new appreciation for each other and a deeper companionship developed through this time. I have seen my husband's faith skyrocket - even as mine struggled, at times.
Another change I noticed in one of those "a-HA!" moments. I have read the book of James many, many times. I love it. Of course, the passage that begins at 1:2, with "Count it all joy, brethren, when you fall into various trials..." is not always met with enthusiasm by the reader (i.e. moi). I have not been in the least little bit joyful. But by reading further, James promises that these trials will lead to patience, and to let that patience have its "perfect work" in me. Later, in 4:13-16, James tell us to avoid saying what we are planning to do and just how much profit we will make and gee, aren't we wonderful. Okay. That last part I just sort of made up - but it's inferred. Anyway, James tells us to say rather that if GOD wills we will do - and fill in the blank with whatever you think your plans may be. It warns against the evil practice of boasting. It protects against the humiliation of looking like a fool when your plans fall apart. It clearly states who is in control of our lives, and to whom we should give the glory for any outcome. God is sovereign.
I finally, finally get it. I have developed a patience for waiting which is only possible because of this. I misinterpreted it, at first, as a strange lack of excitement on my part about going home. I have been known to get all in a tizzy knowing I'm going to Cool Cat for lunch or get my hair done, so this was troubling. But (a-ha!), I am waiting on God to tell me. I am waiting on God to show me. I am becoming patient. Not perfect, but patient. And this patience does not look at all like I thought it would. I do not have a sappy smile plastered on my face all the time. Smiling may not be appropriate. Persevering is hard. Refining hurts. One does not persevere through a day at the spa. A five-layer chocolate torte is in no way a trial or refining fire. Tough times are tough times. Period. And I find that I am done apologizing for not having a perky outlook when things are hard. That's just phony - and more than a little annoying. But, I have also found a deeper meaning of "joy". I have always known that joy is a deep abiding feeling that exists despite conditions, where happiness is always conditional. Thanks, Brother James. I get it!
But I am happy. We leave for Maui on Tuesday, September 13, 2011 - five months to the day of leaving our island home to our exile in Babylon. Though it may not have been our idea, we are so glad that God did what he did. We attended weddings, our son's graduation, a marriage retreat, saw the Grand Canyon, had another crazy road trip up here to Portland, during which we caught up with Cousins Judy and Pam and their respective families, and saw our dear friends, the Bradleys. We made a few new friends during these months. We also reveled in the energy and beauty of our two grandchildren, met our new great-niece, Avery, and hung out with Greg's new girlfriend (the lovely Sarah!). I doubt that the Israelites had it so good.
We are both so very, very happy to be returning home. We are so happy that, once again, God said "yes."
In the Old Testament, starting at 2 Kings, we see the Israelites sent packing by God out of their Land of Milk and Honey to set up camp as exiles in Babylon. While we in no way compare ourselves to these longsuffering - if stubborn and rebellious - people, the two of us struggled to describe our..."situation". We did not move back home. Maui has become our home. We certainly weren't on vacation. There are a lot more wayside adventures, amusement parks, and tourist traps on a vacation. It wasn't even our idea to come to the mainland at that time. Exile. Yup. And like the Israelites, we felt God's hand in all of it.
Like any difficult season, one is not the same as before the difficulties. Whether the changes are good or bad is largely up to the one enduring it. We have a little bit of bad, and (we pray), lots of good. Of the bad, most obvious is an increased....shall we say....thickness to Don and I. I am a foodie - love to cook, love to eat. Unfortunately, under stress I tend to use food for more than nutrition. On top of that, we are away from our favorite forms of exercise: walking the hills of Maui and snorkeling in her warm waters. This combo is not good. We intend to remedy that quickly.
The other bad thing isn't all bad. I feel a little residue of sadness, kind of an emotion scar, as it were. That's okay. I had a hard time coming to grips with that, since I should be over-the-moon happy, right? But just like the four inch scar I have on my leg reminds me NOT to enter rough, murky waters under which lava rocks lurk, this scar reminds me of the tenuous nature of my plans and the foolishness of thinking I can depend on those plans. This shadow also reminds me to never forget the sovereignty of Almighty God. I'm not saying I'm comfortable with this feeling, yet, but I understand its value.
The good stuff is that we absolutely have seen our marriage made so much stronger. We have seen a few ugly moments, but they were brief. For the most part, we feel a new appreciation for each other and a deeper companionship developed through this time. I have seen my husband's faith skyrocket - even as mine struggled, at times.
Another change I noticed in one of those "a-HA!" moments. I have read the book of James many, many times. I love it. Of course, the passage that begins at 1:2, with "Count it all joy, brethren, when you fall into various trials..." is not always met with enthusiasm by the reader (i.e. moi). I have not been in the least little bit joyful. But by reading further, James promises that these trials will lead to patience, and to let that patience have its "perfect work" in me. Later, in 4:13-16, James tell us to avoid saying what we are planning to do and just how much profit we will make and gee, aren't we wonderful. Okay. That last part I just sort of made up - but it's inferred. Anyway, James tells us to say rather that if GOD wills we will do - and fill in the blank with whatever you think your plans may be. It warns against the evil practice of boasting. It protects against the humiliation of looking like a fool when your plans fall apart. It clearly states who is in control of our lives, and to whom we should give the glory for any outcome. God is sovereign.
I finally, finally get it. I have developed a patience for waiting which is only possible because of this. I misinterpreted it, at first, as a strange lack of excitement on my part about going home. I have been known to get all in a tizzy knowing I'm going to Cool Cat for lunch or get my hair done, so this was troubling. But (a-ha!), I am waiting on God to tell me. I am waiting on God to show me. I am becoming patient. Not perfect, but patient. And this patience does not look at all like I thought it would. I do not have a sappy smile plastered on my face all the time. Smiling may not be appropriate. Persevering is hard. Refining hurts. One does not persevere through a day at the spa. A five-layer chocolate torte is in no way a trial or refining fire. Tough times are tough times. Period. And I find that I am done apologizing for not having a perky outlook when things are hard. That's just phony - and more than a little annoying. But, I have also found a deeper meaning of "joy". I have always known that joy is a deep abiding feeling that exists despite conditions, where happiness is always conditional. Thanks, Brother James. I get it!
But I am happy. We leave for Maui on Tuesday, September 13, 2011 - five months to the day of leaving our island home to our exile in Babylon. Though it may not have been our idea, we are so glad that God did what he did. We attended weddings, our son's graduation, a marriage retreat, saw the Grand Canyon, had another crazy road trip up here to Portland, during which we caught up with Cousins Judy and Pam and their respective families, and saw our dear friends, the Bradleys. We made a few new friends during these months. We also reveled in the energy and beauty of our two grandchildren, met our new great-niece, Avery, and hung out with Greg's new girlfriend (the lovely Sarah!). I doubt that the Israelites had it so good.
We are both so very, very happy to be returning home. We are so happy that, once again, God said "yes."
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Respite
respite |ˈrespət; riˈspīt|
noun
a short period of rest or relief from something difficult or unpleasant
(sigh!) My computer is on our dinette in the rv, which means there isn't any dining going on at the dinette. It also means that I can look out a nice big window and see what there is to see. Tonight, I have the pleasure and blessing of watching sunset over Mission Bay. Tall and elegant palm trees make jet black silhouettes against brilliant pink and orange and coral swaths in a dove blue sky. ahhhh... My feet are are wearing the perfect amount of salt and sand, applied as Don and I sat in our beach chairs with our feets in the water of De Anza Cove in San Diego's Mission Bay. Respite. Respite from the desert.
As you recall from our last episode, we had returned to Hemet, CA for our free week in the trailer park. It actually wasn't that bad...much. But we had lovely triple digit weather to keep us toasty and ants to keep us company. We also had a fun side trip up to Idyllwild, a little town about 60 minutes away from, 5,000 feet higher than, and 20 degrees cooler than Hemet. There isn't a whole ton to do there, but it was a nice break - except for the cliff-hugging road that is about 6 inches wide and 5 miles up. Okay. Maybe I exaggerate...but not much. But we got there alive, and once Don coaxed me up from the floor of the car, we wandered around this cute mountain town. We opted to have lunch up in Idyllwild, said lunch being three of the most delicious chocolate truffles - each big enough for Don and I to have a hearty bite. Well....maybe I took two on the peanutbutter filled...but I did let Don have a quarter of it. Or was it a tenth?? At any rate, we got finished with our (ahem!) lunch, when Don got a call on his listing that has been in escrow since Larry King was a boy. Having left his computer behind, it meant that we had to go BACK down the cliff-hugging, 6 inch wide, 5 mile high road back to Hemet. I learned a couple of things during this trip: one, chocolate truffles make a very good lunch, and two, being in a flat desert has its benefits.
Before we moved to Hemet, we listed Don's car on Craig's list in two regions and on Auto Trader. We had a couple of interesting calls that went kafoof once they found out that one should not reasonably expect to buy a nice car for $12.06. After a week or so we got a call that was the real deal, and we made arrangements to meet this woman and her 81-year-old mom (who was the actual buyer) at the Downtown Disney parking lot - they live in Anaheim and Don and I were looking for another side trip. I figured this would also be a little less harrowing then careening around hairpin turns with two tires hanging off the side of the road. I was wrong. Anybody who has traveled on any one of the 8,104,932 freeways in Southern California knows that these roads are filled mile after mile and side to side with angry drivers who are apparently late for something and you are just in their way. Or, they are wannabe stock car drivers who chase perpetual checkered flags. At any rate, we were driving Don's pretty car, all shiny and clean, to meet her potential new mom.
I must confess that since being over on the mainland, knowing we were selling the car, we have been pretty much paranoia on wheels - and this day was no different. We prayed that no one would decide that this was the day to play bumper cars on the 91. We never thought about praying for protection from random little rocks being flung up from anonymous tires. Yup. Somewhere in Yorba Linda a little stone found its way to our windshield and left a dandy little nick, which promptly shot out little spider veins to the size of a quarter. Are ya kidding me!?!?!? Praise God for our modern electronics and the brainiacs who invented them. I got on the phone to a repair company who connected me to our insurance who found out that the first company couldn't do it immediately so he found me another one who would meet us in the parking lot of Downtown Disney, Anaheim, California. Whew!! We arrived in the parking lot, sweating each and every pot hole and speed bump. Shortly after, the potential buyers arrived, and took the car for a very tight spin in the lot, and then the repair guy showed up. Quick as a bunny, he had the windshield repaired, and he was gone. The potential buyers had left with the promise of calling the next day after they thought a little more. And Don and I were on our own. From the moment the rock went CRACK to the excitement being over was about one hour. Things here really are a very different pace than in Maui. Unfortunately, the very, very nice lady called me the next morning to tell me she decided to buy a new car instead of our lovely but used (and recently injured) car.
So, that brings us to here and now. Don thought we should head for San Diego for a week or so, to catch up on some business appointments and friends and family and all things San Diego. We had no reservations anywhere, but my sweet hubby was confident that we would find lodging. I don't like that. I like reservations. I like clear destinations. But after a couple of hours chilling in a parking lot on Mission Bay, we investigated a couple of places around the bay. A couple were less than appealing and practically sat between the 3 and 4 lanes of the I-5. Don remembered one hidden behind the mobile homes on a thumbprint of land on this lovely bay. Tah-dah!! The park itself is rather like a giant parking lot, but with uber big spots, and clean as a whistle. When the numbers are down, we have a gorgeous bay view, and every night, we take a walk around this thumbprint. Except for the high cotton, it might as well be the Summertime that George Gershwin wrote about in his song of that name - the living is easy and fish are certainly jumpin'! The bay is generally glassy at night, unless there is a faint ripple caused by breezes from the west. The quiet is broken by fish leaping up to the tiny bug buffet God has set out for them. After they grab a particularly yummy critter, they belly flop back into the water with a loud splash, leaving more ripples in concentric circles.
The mobile home that are on the other side of the walk are only mobile homes in the technical sense. Most of them have breathtaking views of the shimmering water and the lights from the city that are reflected. They all have these huge picture windows and large decks. Many have big gardens and one has a big topiary zoo in the front yard. We have passed by many folks as they sit on their decks, or innocently catch glimpses of them through their picture windows as they live this blessed life.
Before we came down here, we got another inquiry on Don's car. This guy seemed very legit, as he was asking questions that were pointed and knowledgeable. After a few more texts and phone conversations, he came with his wife to see the car, meeting us at the dealership where said vehicle was getting her 60,000 mile checkup. The guy talked to the mechanic, checked the records, already had the car fax, test drove it....and BOUGHT IT!! Yup! Finally!! This car which seemed to be more leper than Lexus found a new home. We are without a car for a few days until we rent one until we go home (very soon!), but there is a cool beach here, so why should we go anywhere!?!? Our Lexie II has a new mom and dad in Yuma, Arizona! HOT!! And, ironically, the 81-year-old lady's daughter called right after we made the deal. Seems that Mom changed her mind. Ah, well...
So, now we begin the mad dash to get ready to return to our island home. I'm not saying that we think the trial and challenges are over. Not even close. We know that we have a lot of hard work still ahead. We also know that the lack of such trials means that we are likely not of any significance to the enemy. This is not a good thing for a Christian. In the meantime, Don and I will revel in this respite.
I am finishing this at noon the day after I started it. No, it doesn't take me that long to write, I just wanted to eat and sleep and do other stuff. But now, it's bright and sunny and salt water and sand are calling to me (sigh!)
noun
a short period of rest or relief from something difficult or unpleasant
(sigh!) My computer is on our dinette in the rv, which means there isn't any dining going on at the dinette. It also means that I can look out a nice big window and see what there is to see. Tonight, I have the pleasure and blessing of watching sunset over Mission Bay. Tall and elegant palm trees make jet black silhouettes against brilliant pink and orange and coral swaths in a dove blue sky. ahhhh... My feet are are wearing the perfect amount of salt and sand, applied as Don and I sat in our beach chairs with our feets in the water of De Anza Cove in San Diego's Mission Bay. Respite. Respite from the desert.
As you recall from our last episode, we had returned to Hemet, CA for our free week in the trailer park. It actually wasn't that bad...much. But we had lovely triple digit weather to keep us toasty and ants to keep us company. We also had a fun side trip up to Idyllwild, a little town about 60 minutes away from, 5,000 feet higher than, and 20 degrees cooler than Hemet. There isn't a whole ton to do there, but it was a nice break - except for the cliff-hugging road that is about 6 inches wide and 5 miles up. Okay. Maybe I exaggerate...but not much. But we got there alive, and once Don coaxed me up from the floor of the car, we wandered around this cute mountain town. We opted to have lunch up in Idyllwild, said lunch being three of the most delicious chocolate truffles - each big enough for Don and I to have a hearty bite. Well....maybe I took two on the peanutbutter filled...but I did let Don have a quarter of it. Or was it a tenth?? At any rate, we got finished with our (ahem!) lunch, when Don got a call on his listing that has been in escrow since Larry King was a boy. Having left his computer behind, it meant that we had to go BACK down the cliff-hugging, 6 inch wide, 5 mile high road back to Hemet. I learned a couple of things during this trip: one, chocolate truffles make a very good lunch, and two, being in a flat desert has its benefits.
Before we moved to Hemet, we listed Don's car on Craig's list in two regions and on Auto Trader. We had a couple of interesting calls that went kafoof once they found out that one should not reasonably expect to buy a nice car for $12.06. After a week or so we got a call that was the real deal, and we made arrangements to meet this woman and her 81-year-old mom (who was the actual buyer) at the Downtown Disney parking lot - they live in Anaheim and Don and I were looking for another side trip. I figured this would also be a little less harrowing then careening around hairpin turns with two tires hanging off the side of the road. I was wrong. Anybody who has traveled on any one of the 8,104,932 freeways in Southern California knows that these roads are filled mile after mile and side to side with angry drivers who are apparently late for something and you are just in their way. Or, they are wannabe stock car drivers who chase perpetual checkered flags. At any rate, we were driving Don's pretty car, all shiny and clean, to meet her potential new mom.
I must confess that since being over on the mainland, knowing we were selling the car, we have been pretty much paranoia on wheels - and this day was no different. We prayed that no one would decide that this was the day to play bumper cars on the 91. We never thought about praying for protection from random little rocks being flung up from anonymous tires. Yup. Somewhere in Yorba Linda a little stone found its way to our windshield and left a dandy little nick, which promptly shot out little spider veins to the size of a quarter. Are ya kidding me!?!?!? Praise God for our modern electronics and the brainiacs who invented them. I got on the phone to a repair company who connected me to our insurance who found out that the first company couldn't do it immediately so he found me another one who would meet us in the parking lot of Downtown Disney, Anaheim, California. Whew!! We arrived in the parking lot, sweating each and every pot hole and speed bump. Shortly after, the potential buyers arrived, and took the car for a very tight spin in the lot, and then the repair guy showed up. Quick as a bunny, he had the windshield repaired, and he was gone. The potential buyers had left with the promise of calling the next day after they thought a little more. And Don and I were on our own. From the moment the rock went CRACK to the excitement being over was about one hour. Things here really are a very different pace than in Maui. Unfortunately, the very, very nice lady called me the next morning to tell me she decided to buy a new car instead of our lovely but used (and recently injured) car.
So, that brings us to here and now. Don thought we should head for San Diego for a week or so, to catch up on some business appointments and friends and family and all things San Diego. We had no reservations anywhere, but my sweet hubby was confident that we would find lodging. I don't like that. I like reservations. I like clear destinations. But after a couple of hours chilling in a parking lot on Mission Bay, we investigated a couple of places around the bay. A couple were less than appealing and practically sat between the 3 and 4 lanes of the I-5. Don remembered one hidden behind the mobile homes on a thumbprint of land on this lovely bay. Tah-dah!! The park itself is rather like a giant parking lot, but with uber big spots, and clean as a whistle. When the numbers are down, we have a gorgeous bay view, and every night, we take a walk around this thumbprint. Except for the high cotton, it might as well be the Summertime that George Gershwin wrote about in his song of that name - the living is easy and fish are certainly jumpin'! The bay is generally glassy at night, unless there is a faint ripple caused by breezes from the west. The quiet is broken by fish leaping up to the tiny bug buffet God has set out for them. After they grab a particularly yummy critter, they belly flop back into the water with a loud splash, leaving more ripples in concentric circles.
The mobile home that are on the other side of the walk are only mobile homes in the technical sense. Most of them have breathtaking views of the shimmering water and the lights from the city that are reflected. They all have these huge picture windows and large decks. Many have big gardens and one has a big topiary zoo in the front yard. We have passed by many folks as they sit on their decks, or innocently catch glimpses of them through their picture windows as they live this blessed life.
Before we came down here, we got another inquiry on Don's car. This guy seemed very legit, as he was asking questions that were pointed and knowledgeable. After a few more texts and phone conversations, he came with his wife to see the car, meeting us at the dealership where said vehicle was getting her 60,000 mile checkup. The guy talked to the mechanic, checked the records, already had the car fax, test drove it....and BOUGHT IT!! Yup! Finally!! This car which seemed to be more leper than Lexus found a new home. We are without a car for a few days until we rent one until we go home (very soon!), but there is a cool beach here, so why should we go anywhere!?!? Our Lexie II has a new mom and dad in Yuma, Arizona! HOT!! And, ironically, the 81-year-old lady's daughter called right after we made the deal. Seems that Mom changed her mind. Ah, well...
So, now we begin the mad dash to get ready to return to our island home. I'm not saying that we think the trial and challenges are over. Not even close. We know that we have a lot of hard work still ahead. We also know that the lack of such trials means that we are likely not of any significance to the enemy. This is not a good thing for a Christian. In the meantime, Don and I will revel in this respite.
I am finishing this at noon the day after I started it. No, it doesn't take me that long to write, I just wanted to eat and sleep and do other stuff. But now, it's bright and sunny and salt water and sand are calling to me (sigh!)
Monday, August 15, 2011
Lord, This is NOT the "Go Back" Of Which We Were Speaking
Well, here we are (sigh!), back in the trailer park that we first landed in four months ago. The same sort of grim, barren trailer park - I mean RV Resort and Mobile Home Park. But it's free for a week, so ya gotta love that! It's their compensation for us after the power surge fiasco caused by their gardeners that blew out our tv and converter (which they did replace, pronto) and cost us serious buckage to replace the tv and have it reinstalled. We accept. Gratefully. But it isn't exactly what we had in mind when, in our heartfelt prayers, we asked God to let us "go back."
Four months and two days ago, Don and I were taking our last drive (for a while) in our little jeep along the highway toward the airport in Kahului, Maui. Our hearts, of course, were pretty much in pieces, but we could see God's hand all over it. We talked about how we had told the Lord that we wanted an "adventure", to which my beloved said to me, "well, next time, let's be SPECIFIC!!" So true, but it seems that we forgot to clarify once again.
It started last week when Don went in to reserve another month at the nice RV park by Kyle and Kristin. He came back with a buncha not-good news and some good news, which helped out the not-good. Seems that the park was not available for the next 29 days. W could pay for a few days at a time, but that becomes prohibitively expensive, but thanks to a couple of concerts (thanks a whole lot, Alan Jackson and Will Farrell), every weekend was sold out through August 28. BUT! On the way back from the office, bearing the burden of bad news he would have to tell to his wife, Don got a voicemail from the manager here at Golden Village offering the free week. God's timing. God's sense of humor.
We opted to stay in the parking lot for four nights - for free - then come out here to Hemet - for free - then back to the parking lot - for free. Do you detect a theme? Yes, free is good. Unfortunately, however, free usually comes with some drawbacks - which is generally why they are free.
Our first night was Thursday, and nice and quiet in an all but empty lot. This parking lot is next to the RV park, and across two large parking lots from Pechanga Casino, and is often the spot for RVers looking for a free spot for the night (or four) and long haul truckers looking for a respite from the road. Thursday night had only us, plus a couple of random cars whose owners needed a parking spot for...?? So, it was so nice and quiet. Then we turned on our generator and that took care of that whole quiet thing. But, we needed power for our tv and satellite and microwave and all. They may call it dry camping, but it bears as much resemblance to actual camping as a chihuahua does to a Saint Bernard - both are dogs, but there the similarities end. So, there we were in our metaphorical Saint Bernard, shutting it all down late at night and sleeping oh-so-late the next day. Hey, this may not be so bad.
We got some work done Friday morning, then headed out for a movie ("The Help" - GO SEE IT). This was Friday. We returned to our parking lot and were reminded. This was F-R-I-D-A-Y. There was a sign before we even got there that told employees to park all around that Winnebago over there. Okay. So the sign didn't exactly say that, but it might as well have. We asked one of the many shuttle drivers scooting around the lot picking up and dropping off if there was anything special going on this very busy night. he laughed and pointed out, "It's Friday." Okay, so maybe living in Maui has made us forget the magic of Friday since days seem to blend into one another in island time. But then he said something even more ominous, "But tomorrow there's some kinda comedy show at the outdoor stage." DUH-DUH-DUUUUUUUH!! (that's scary music in case you didn't recognize the tune).
Friday night was pretty noisy, with employees getting into their vehicles and driving off in a loud hurry, so we didn't feel exactly refreshed Saturday morning. These weekend days are pretty rough for me anyway, and boredom goes off the charts. It's almost impossible to do anything that does not cost some severe buckage or have half a million people involved or both. But we did figure out something to do. We went to the library to donate books, the grocery store, and Starbucks. Okay, so maybe we spent more at Starbucks than we should, but, c'mon! Starbucks!! We returned to find almost nooooooooo parking. We ended up parking quite a ways away, but at least we were on pavement. The last of the RVers had to park on dirt, as well as the latecomers to either work, the concert, or general festivizing-and-money-losing at the casino. Don and I took our nightly walk around what used to be our rv park, and then watched the traffic cops keep people from running into each other as the concert ended. We figured that the cars in the parking lot would eventually leave, and they did. The 6p.m.-2a.m. shift was done, and these good, hard-working people went to their cars and headed for home, calling all kinds of well wishes to one another...with loud enthusiasm. The 8p.m.-4a.m. shift ended, and the whole thing from two hours earlier was repeated, with the added entertainment of somebody needing a jump - two car spaces from us. The rest of the night - brief though it was - ended in relative quiet. We managed to stay awake through church, thanks to anther on-fire and on-point message, and then spent the afternoon with Kyle, Kristin, and the grandkiddies watching golf (WOW! Whadda finish!!), doing laundry, then babysitting so Mommy and Daddy could go see a movie like actual grown-ups.
We were looking forward to a return to the quiet parking lot of the first night, only to find that the lot had not one, two, or three big rigs, but SEVEN - including one right next to us and so close I half expected to find him in our bathroom. Resigned to the snugness of the situation, and the prospect of an early morning diesel start-up mere inches from our ears. We contemplated not using our generator, given the close quarters, but then we realized that these truckers are used to all kinds of noise, so we fired that bad boy up - only to find it was less of Bad Boy than it was an old man with emphysema. It coughed, sputtered, and quit. Oh no. No microwave. No satellite. NO TELEVISION!!! Now we were roughing it. Well, at least in our minds. My husband took his distraught spouse on our nightly walk, both of us playing with the idea of pulling into the park for just a one night stay, or even driving out to Hemet to pull in waaaay early. But it was almost 11:00 at night, and it would be even crazier than our usual level of crazy. So, we walked back to our quiet, powerless motorhome, parked next to a big rig. As we approached our coach, two things struck us: all these huge trucks with their trailers of goods behind them looked straight out of "Cars". We seriously thought they looked like they were going to start chatting with one another. Who knows, but maybe they did when we were not around??? I told you!! We were sleep deprived!! The other thing was as we got to our door, we heard the satisfied and comfortable snoring of the driver of the rig next to us. It reminded me of who was out there moving products around the country so we have full grocery shelves. hmmmm... We quietly retired and added these good people to our prayers. In the morning - very early - all but two of the trucks left, one after the other. But instead of letting their powerful diesels idle and warm up, they each left right away and as quietly as is possible for behemoths like these. Thanks, guys - and no sarcasm in my voice.
So, here we are. Back in the desert. I have found myself thinking of the wandering Israelites, and wondering if ever the women were harping at their husbands to pull over and ask for directions. Can't you hear it?? "Hey, hubby, isn't this the same rock we passed two days ago? Look! It still has our boy's 'Shelimelech was here' on it!" But they had to wait for their directions from God, and so do we.
But we are being much more specific in our prayers...
Four months and two days ago, Don and I were taking our last drive (for a while) in our little jeep along the highway toward the airport in Kahului, Maui. Our hearts, of course, were pretty much in pieces, but we could see God's hand all over it. We talked about how we had told the Lord that we wanted an "adventure", to which my beloved said to me, "well, next time, let's be SPECIFIC!!" So true, but it seems that we forgot to clarify once again.
It started last week when Don went in to reserve another month at the nice RV park by Kyle and Kristin. He came back with a buncha not-good news and some good news, which helped out the not-good. Seems that the park was not available for the next 29 days. W could pay for a few days at a time, but that becomes prohibitively expensive, but thanks to a couple of concerts (thanks a whole lot, Alan Jackson and Will Farrell), every weekend was sold out through August 28. BUT! On the way back from the office, bearing the burden of bad news he would have to tell to his wife, Don got a voicemail from the manager here at Golden Village offering the free week. God's timing. God's sense of humor.
We opted to stay in the parking lot for four nights - for free - then come out here to Hemet - for free - then back to the parking lot - for free. Do you detect a theme? Yes, free is good. Unfortunately, however, free usually comes with some drawbacks - which is generally why they are free.
Our first night was Thursday, and nice and quiet in an all but empty lot. This parking lot is next to the RV park, and across two large parking lots from Pechanga Casino, and is often the spot for RVers looking for a free spot for the night (or four) and long haul truckers looking for a respite from the road. Thursday night had only us, plus a couple of random cars whose owners needed a parking spot for...?? So, it was so nice and quiet. Then we turned on our generator and that took care of that whole quiet thing. But, we needed power for our tv and satellite and microwave and all. They may call it dry camping, but it bears as much resemblance to actual camping as a chihuahua does to a Saint Bernard - both are dogs, but there the similarities end. So, there we were in our metaphorical Saint Bernard, shutting it all down late at night and sleeping oh-so-late the next day. Hey, this may not be so bad.
We got some work done Friday morning, then headed out for a movie ("The Help" - GO SEE IT). This was Friday. We returned to our parking lot and were reminded. This was F-R-I-D-A-Y. There was a sign before we even got there that told employees to park all around that Winnebago over there. Okay. So the sign didn't exactly say that, but it might as well have. We asked one of the many shuttle drivers scooting around the lot picking up and dropping off if there was anything special going on this very busy night. he laughed and pointed out, "It's Friday." Okay, so maybe living in Maui has made us forget the magic of Friday since days seem to blend into one another in island time. But then he said something even more ominous, "But tomorrow there's some kinda comedy show at the outdoor stage." DUH-DUH-DUUUUUUUH!! (that's scary music in case you didn't recognize the tune).
Friday night was pretty noisy, with employees getting into their vehicles and driving off in a loud hurry, so we didn't feel exactly refreshed Saturday morning. These weekend days are pretty rough for me anyway, and boredom goes off the charts. It's almost impossible to do anything that does not cost some severe buckage or have half a million people involved or both. But we did figure out something to do. We went to the library to donate books, the grocery store, and Starbucks. Okay, so maybe we spent more at Starbucks than we should, but, c'mon! Starbucks!! We returned to find almost nooooooooo parking. We ended up parking quite a ways away, but at least we were on pavement. The last of the RVers had to park on dirt, as well as the latecomers to either work, the concert, or general festivizing-and-money-losing at the casino. Don and I took our nightly walk around what used to be our rv park, and then watched the traffic cops keep people from running into each other as the concert ended. We figured that the cars in the parking lot would eventually leave, and they did. The 6p.m.-2a.m. shift was done, and these good, hard-working people went to their cars and headed for home, calling all kinds of well wishes to one another...with loud enthusiasm. The 8p.m.-4a.m. shift ended, and the whole thing from two hours earlier was repeated, with the added entertainment of somebody needing a jump - two car spaces from us. The rest of the night - brief though it was - ended in relative quiet. We managed to stay awake through church, thanks to anther on-fire and on-point message, and then spent the afternoon with Kyle, Kristin, and the grandkiddies watching golf (WOW! Whadda finish!!), doing laundry, then babysitting so Mommy and Daddy could go see a movie like actual grown-ups.
We were looking forward to a return to the quiet parking lot of the first night, only to find that the lot had not one, two, or three big rigs, but SEVEN - including one right next to us and so close I half expected to find him in our bathroom. Resigned to the snugness of the situation, and the prospect of an early morning diesel start-up mere inches from our ears. We contemplated not using our generator, given the close quarters, but then we realized that these truckers are used to all kinds of noise, so we fired that bad boy up - only to find it was less of Bad Boy than it was an old man with emphysema. It coughed, sputtered, and quit. Oh no. No microwave. No satellite. NO TELEVISION!!! Now we were roughing it. Well, at least in our minds. My husband took his distraught spouse on our nightly walk, both of us playing with the idea of pulling into the park for just a one night stay, or even driving out to Hemet to pull in waaaay early. But it was almost 11:00 at night, and it would be even crazier than our usual level of crazy. So, we walked back to our quiet, powerless motorhome, parked next to a big rig. As we approached our coach, two things struck us: all these huge trucks with their trailers of goods behind them looked straight out of "Cars". We seriously thought they looked like they were going to start chatting with one another. Who knows, but maybe they did when we were not around??? I told you!! We were sleep deprived!! The other thing was as we got to our door, we heard the satisfied and comfortable snoring of the driver of the rig next to us. It reminded me of who was out there moving products around the country so we have full grocery shelves. hmmmm... We quietly retired and added these good people to our prayers. In the morning - very early - all but two of the trucks left, one after the other. But instead of letting their powerful diesels idle and warm up, they each left right away and as quietly as is possible for behemoths like these. Thanks, guys - and no sarcasm in my voice.
So, here we are. Back in the desert. I have found myself thinking of the wandering Israelites, and wondering if ever the women were harping at their husbands to pull over and ask for directions. Can't you hear it?? "Hey, hubby, isn't this the same rock we passed two days ago? Look! It still has our boy's 'Shelimelech was here' on it!" But they had to wait for their directions from God, and so do we.
But we are being much more specific in our prayers...
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