The mud hole

It started out as a simple little hole that D and his friend E would “dig” into with their plastic trucks a few years ago.

When it rained a few times over the summer, the hole would get a bit bigger and D would continue to dig into it, by himself or when friends were over.

Soon the hole became big enough for D to actually sit in, which he liked to do when playing outside by himself with his trucks and tools and buckets.

Then L came along. It took awhile before he was able to join D in the hole. Last summer was filled with adventures in mud, whether that was in the hole or a patch of dirt in the backyard.

It’s 88 degrees today. That’s pretty warm for us, being only April. Both boys have been itching to be “one with nature” for the last week or two in the backyard, mostly wanting to get into the pool (which for us is the $25 special plastic pool from WalMart).

To remember

It’s 10pm on September 11th.

 

There’s still time to remember.

 

To remember the apartment I shared with a friend, a friend who’s parents were in the skies somewhere in America that very same morning 10 years ago.

To remember the panic that rose up within me, wondering if I should go to work, knowing I would not get any work done that day.

To remember watching and listening with co-workers as that morning played out, and the questions and fears that were in our words to each other.

 

To remember the days and weeks following, how I could not help but wonder if the airplane I was viewing above was destined for something terrible…again.

To remember the first time I sat in an airplane seat after that fateful day; how I thought about what those saw, heard, felt, knew that morning.

To remember shaking my head in disbelief as story after story poured forth of heroism and tragedy.

 

To remember the falling bodies, the darkened skies, the ash-covered faces, the fearful eyes, the grief.

 

So much grieving. So many lives lost who touched countless lives in nations around the world.

 

To remember to be thankful that God gave me another day to live, another day to love, another day to remember.

Ridds Camp In

The boys and I read a super cute book the other day called “Lucille Camps In”. The story is about a little pig who has to stay home with her momma while her papa and older brothers get to go camping.

At first she has a bad attitude, but then she decides to have her own camping experience with items from her bedroom. She traipses down the stairs with a blanket, a flashlight, and a few other camping accessories and her momma helps set up the living room as their “tent”. They even roast marshmallows over a fire in the fireplace and have a camper’s breakfast the next morning.

My parents, my brother and his family, and other families from my dad’s church are camping this weekend up in Oregon. Our summer plans didn’t allow for me and my family to participate. Still, I had high hopes earlier this summer that we could squeeze in a short camping trip somewhere.

Once again reason took over and I decided we were already over-extended in our finances, our energy, and our sanity, so a camping weekend was out. However, I really want my boys to have that camping experience…someday. I know it will be stressful the first few times, especially since Hubs and I haven’t done much camping ourselves in the past decade or so.

Breakaway to the Arctic Freeze!

It’s been a busy week around here, but all good stuff. It was Breakaway at our church all week – formerly known as “VBS” to us old-school folks. Some churches do still hang to the Vacation Bible School name, but Breakaway it is for us!

Excavating sea creatures from the ice!

This year’s theme was Breakaway to the Arctic Freeze, so the church was done up to look like you were walking into a big igloo. They did a fine job of the decorations and all the crafts, drama and such were centered around that theme.

The verse the kids learned all week was Joshua 1:9:

God is with you wherever you go

Each day they were told a portion of the story of Joseph and they added a little symbol to their “snow globe” they were making all week. Glitter represented the rainbow colors of Joseph’s coat. Small beads that spelled out the word “HOPE” represented  the hope Joseph had that God had not abandoned him when he was imprisoned. A red plastic heart represented the love Joseph chose to have for his brothers when he was in charge of all the food. A marble represented 2 things: the dark part of the marble in the center represented TROUBLE – as in life, there will always be troubles. The lighter part of the marble surrounding the dark color represented God’s presence – because He never leaves us, even when there are troubles in life.

The Palestine Experience

Brown. White. Green. Yellow-gold. Black.

Those are the colors that come to mind.

Desert. Rolling hills. White buildings – so many white buildings. Dirt roads. High walls. Olive trees. Fences. Shacks.

Those are the images of the landscape that are still fresh in my memory.

Flies. Crowded cars on crowded streets. Yelling. Rocks. Guns – very big, very loaded guns. Green military clothing. White and black scarves.

Those are the sounds and sights that brought fear and uneasiness to my soul.

I have only kissed the ground – literally – in one place on this earth. That would be the Laguardia airport in New York. I had arrived back to my homeland of the United States after spending 6 weeks in Israel and Palestine.