PENSIEVE

On this Memorial Day (and always)...

My sweet friend, Kristen, a military wife, write a lovely post about sacrifice and obedience today at {in}incourage.  Won't you click through, read it and share the names of your family or friends in the military the {in}community will pray for?    

When love overwhelms

between the lines

it's impossible for them to know

this tender desperation

insisting, impetuous

be still, my heart!

 pounding pounding

each wisp of time

skin to skin, sweet assurance

still here still here

for a while not for an ever

looking at them, curious   

sensing the familiar

seeing the new

growth, perceptible

the outside kind

sometimes and always

but the inside kind, too  

slow down! a plea

on deaf ear falls

and in this, a discovery of motherhood:

my hope for long life

has become less about adding years to my own

and more about

seeing them

m e n

b e c o m i n g 

filled out and full

laughter and love

lessons learned well

watching them

still

sometimes and always

tend, work, empty, fill

for good for great for god

this all this

and, yes, more than this

is shouted

and shrouded 

in every hug til then.

Like riding a bike...

One aspect I most appreciate about living in Tiny-Town-with-a-Castle, Germany is the ability to ride a bike everywhere.  Not the case in our hometown.  

There, it is required by law that motorists defer to cyclists.  Here, cyclists are often looked upon with scorn, particularly when they DARE to ride in the street, and heaven forbid if they're in front of you at a light!

I know...because I've had muttered a few words when someone on a bike dares to slow me down.

I'll return, soon, to my little German bike, where now with much warmer weather than before, I'm sure to get my tail into shape.

Hopefully the rest of me, too.  

(I saw Kelly's photo prompt this morning and immediately thought of this iPhone pic; not the best but it was taken after a morning spent with new friends, who discovered it was my birthday and celebrated with cake, flowers, chocolate and art therapy.  I imagine a birthday I'll always remember...!)

Present reminders

It gives me hope that God knows people are very forgetful.  No wonder he tells us to write his words down - on our walls and bodies, no less! - and even to wear them.

Several people have asked me about my bracelets (my Adventure and Dream God-sized Dreams) this year and I love to share their significance.  Words matter to me, they mean something to me, and my sister recently stated the obvious, a truth that somehow escaped me-- "Words are your passion...."

Even with all that, it's good to have tangible reminders nearby.  In this case, I need only look down at my left wrist.

Are you prone to forgetfulness?  What reminds you of the most important things you need to remember?

 

 

Eternal oxygen

On the ceiling of my daughter's closet, a child scribed the essentials of the forever life.  Important things, written on doorposts and gates for now, but on the heart for always.  

 

A smelly(good) post

Have you given much thought to the strength of sense-memory?  How a particular smell can immediately bring to mind people, places or events in your life?

Though I demanded very little in the planning of my wedding, I just had to have gardenias in my bridal bouquet. Out of season and costly, my florist allowed three. To the sentimentalist in me, that delicately scrumptious flower paid homage to my childhood and celebrated my Southern roots.

But mostly it honored my grandmother.

* * * * * * * * *

Continue reading at {in}courage where you'll see how in the world I mashed up Grandmothers, Gardenias and Goodness...and not only my wedding bouquet but what I looked like as a blushing bride*.

 

* For some reason I wanted to be tan on my wedding day, despite it being the middle of November and NOT going anywhere tropical for our honeymoon.  I stuck out like a bronzed sore thumb among my wedding party, and ever-after that decision left me shaking my head at my young, irrational self.  

Little German girl?

Maybe I did it to promote a wonderfully fun, worthwhile event.

Maybe I did it as a small attempt to bridge culture and community.   

Maybe I did it because I had a wild hair ('cause trust me, the hair, she was wild...!)

Or m a y b e I just did it 'cause I'll use any excuse to slip on a Princess dress.

Who knows?

In any event, Christian Hoeferle (of Höferle Consulting) and I had opportunity to sit down with Cindy Sexton and WRCB's 3 Plus You gang to talk about all things Germany and what's going on this weekend in Cleveland to celebrate the culture.  

Maifest is in its seventh year and when I'm done slaying  swimming with  riding rowing dragons I plan to join my German expat friends for an afternoon of fun.  

Thanks to Dawn Scowronnek for the link to our segment below; not showing up for you?  Try this.

When did I become a DRAGON SLAYER?! (Oh, yeah...and PLEASE HELP ME!!!!)

A Dragon on a boat, not to be confused with the Dragon Boats descending on Chattanooga on Saturday!

What would YOU do if you had only two months in your hometown before leaving the country?

I, for one, can tell you what I'm doing--cramming as much into 60 days as possible.

Take Saturday, for example.  

Saturday morning I'll be all "PADDLES UP, Y'ALL!" at Chattanooga's Dragon Boat races; I'm joining the BEST team of them all:  Chamber Ambassadors of Hope.

I've known about this event for years and cannot wait to be a part!  Not only is this a fun community tradition, it's a fundraiser for Children's Hospital; we've had many friends whose children have had reason to go to Children's through the years...and they've always been provided exceptional care and service.

Would you PLEASE consider a donation?  Our team's individual goal is $172/paddler; but I'm not satisfied with the minimum and I like round numbers so I raised it to $250.  The competitor in me would LOVE to be the single largest paddler fundraiser of them all, but since that's not likely unless a generous benefactor finds my page, I'll be happy just to reach my goal.  

Donations in any amount will bless my socks off, and you can choose to be anonymous if that's more your style.  Just click the thermometer below; the process is painless and you'll be doing a very good thing.    

One last note:  I really need my friends and readers OUTSIDE CHATTANOOGA to contribute, too!  Many locals are either participating themselves or are supporting other paddlers, and YOUR support of my little effort will mean a lot to me.  A VERY lot  ❤.    

Click Here to Donate

 

(When I say "thank you," I really, really, REALLY mean it.  Thank you!)

The reason I wish I had a million blog readers

I started blogging in the Fall of 2005 after a friend invited me to read hers (I didn't know what a blog was prior); my first post referenced an article that reported the number of blogs to be 30,000 strong.  Today, Mashable author Sam Laird reports there are over 3.9 million "mommy bloggers" alone...though he plays fast and loose with the definition of mommy blogger.  

My blogging life has seen many seasons--ah, those long-ago times when I published at least once a day, commented generously and often, and enjoyed an engaged community where I knew more about my online friends than those new people I was meeting in a new town.

When I noticed the difference between me owning my blog vs. my blog owning me, I walked away from that season.  Plus, there's a lot of NOISE in the blogosphere, and I decided if I wasn't adding something of value, it was better to write less but better.  

But, always ALWAYS I have whole-heartedly believed and declared there is no better reason for writing than to use my voice for those who have none.

I've supported a fair amount of great causes over the past six years, given them my voice and my checkbook.  And though all of them are worthy, there's one that stole my heart:

Compassion International. 

I had the privilege of traveling to India with a group of Compassion bloggers three years ago, and my experience not only changed me then, it continues to affect me deeply and for the good.  

This week, several of my friends (and bloggers new to me) have joined leader Shaun Groves on a trip to Tanzania, to witness the work of Compassion.

They see then they tell a great story of HOPE.

Hundreds, thousands? of children will be sponsored when readers are moved to action by their beautiful words.  

I wish I had a million readers because that would mean I had a pretty big sphere of influence; and if I asked you nicely to sponsor a child, even if only 1% responded to my plea, 1000 kids would be sponsored!  

One thousand children's lives would be saved.

That's not an exaggeration friends.

When you sponsor a child, you're providing for needs, the type of needs we take for granted.  Food, shelter, clothing, education; physical, emotional, spiritual.  

When you sponsor one child, the entire family benefits.  Because you're relieving the financial pressure for one family member, their other limited resources can be used for everyone else.

Please read my favorite accounts from each of this team's bloggers (linked below); then I'm asking you...begging my considerably smaller-than-a-million-readership to sponsor a child--

Their lives and YOUR LIFE will be forever changed for the better.  

• Decorating Truths from a 15-year-old Tanzanian Boy (Warning, it'll tug tears from the crustiest of hardened souls, by my lovie Nester Smith)
• In Defense of Jesus (A great explanation to both believers AND those who aren't professing Christians why Compassion's motive IS Jesus; by Shaun Groves, truly one of my favorite & most-admired writer/artist/Jesus follower/theologian/musician/friends.)
• Hope is slow (Kelli feels deeply and out loud, evident in her writing.  Read this one but scroll through all her posts to see what I mean.)
• Letting your dirty feet rub against the dirty feet of your neighbor (Always enthusiastic and oozing adorable, my creative friend Maggie Whitley takes a fall, bruises her ego...and becomes the one ministered TO.)
• Meeting my sponsored child (There is something uniquely special about meeting a child you sponsor; I chose my friend Amy's account to share with you.)
• In which I cry again (Jolanthe shares the impact of a family gift...and so wonderful to hear the reciprocal impact to her.)
• Where there is no vision, the people perish (Scott Williams has a LOT to say; fantastic perspective.)

YOUR TURN:  Is this the first time you've heard of Compassion International or have you been following the Compassion Bloggers already?  Do you have a child sponsorship story you can link to or share in comments?  

 

On our first visit to Salzburg: how I almost wet my pants

Salzburg is famous for a lot of reasons ~

• birthplace of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
• where The Sound of Music was filmed
• beautiful baroque architecture with some of the most famous churches in the world
• it sits at the northern boundary of the Alps and borders the Salzach River.
• it's 45 minutes from our German home (okay, that's not so famous) and I discovered the most delicious, thick, frothy hot chocolate IN THE WORLD.  I'm pretty sure that's not an exaggeration.

But the first time we visited I almost froze to death despite wearing thermal layers that had me walking like the Abominable Snowman.  Impossible to take pictures with gloves on - temperatures below freezing - I gave up when my naked fingers stiffened into claws.

I haven't seen so many ankle-length fur coats since I played dress-up at the Fur Department in Belks, or either giant minks with human heads had taken over the city.  

We braved the Salzburgian Arctic Tundra as long as humanly possible; but before heading home, Tad needed to use the restroom.  As we've discovered in several European cities, public restrooms might require payment.  

And, get this:  some demand that you declare your business!  Number 1 costs less than Number 2, which to me is just TOO MUCH INFORMATION but I suppose it's based on water consumption and they're just trying to be fair.

But I'd prefer anonymity and injustice and pay a little more to protect my privacy. My shy bladder looks bold compared to my reclusively private bowel!

Which is likely TMI for you.

Though I didn't need to "go" I decided to blow my nose while Tad "went"; I wandered into the women's side of the public WC to hunt for a roll of toilet paper.  My frozen nose hairs were holding back a dam of snot, which sounds mildly offensive, but what IS the nice word for snot?  Mucus?  That doesn't sound right, so please--I'm beggin' for your suggestions.  

But I digress.

I discovered coin slots mounted on all the stall doors, and since I had no euros to open the doors, I turned to paper towels hanging over the sinks.  While I blew my frozen, raw nose with the equivalent of sandpaper, I noticed another wall of sinks and mirrors on the other side of a little hallway, vaguely hearing but dismissing a voice inside my head that said "The bathroom sure didn't look *that* large from the outside...." 

When I got to the end of the hallway, I noticed a small yellow basket with coins in it sitting in a chair to my right; in a nano second I tried to reason "Why does this side have the honor system...?" when a man's voice thundered "WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN HERE?!"

Well, I might not have had to go but I about wet my britches and jumped backwards into the ladies room.

Had I just looked to my left, I would have seen a row of urinals and my husband turning and zipping up.  Thankfully, only my husband.

Why there are doors for a men's side and a women's side is beyond me when it's one big happy bathroom with a teensy hallway dividing the genders.

This isn't quite what I had in mind when I declared 2012 The Year of Adventure.

~ smile ~

Old rugged

The secret of the Lord is with those
who have been broken by his cross and
healed by his Spirit.
~ Scottish minister, P.T. Forsythe

 

The message of the cross is foolish to those who are headed for destruction! But we who are being saved know it is the very power of God.
~ 1 Corinthians 1:18 NLT

 

The last 15 and wishes on stars

I missed his birthday.

I didn't forget it, that would be ridiculous...impossible.  But with an ocean dividing us and 5,000 miles in between, I wasn't there for a sweet indulgence, his TWO favorite desserts for breakfast; neither of them a birthday cake but our special tradition; or to look at him and study him, to bear witness to this overnight change.  I wasn't there at midnight to kiss him while he slept and welcome his new year; he never would have known, but I would.  

The calendar marks time impassive to mothers' wishes on stars--one more day like this.

How can a day, a number for goodness sakes, make such an impression, such a difference?  

Fifteen.

My youngest.  Last born.  Baby.  

He acted as if this was okay, my absence.  He certainly celebrated and was celebrated.  There was no void of attention, I did, at least, make sure of that. 

Why does this thing--a mother's guilt--pluck heart chords?  It is false and faulty, a thing we should cast aside but can't quite manage.  

So it picks picks picks and does its best to defeat us.

But I'm raising a defiant fist in the face of False Guilt.  My son is cherished and he is good and he is enough.  

And that is enough.

Your sons, your daughters are cherished and good and enough, too.

Our children don't expect, they don't even want, perfect parents; they just need to be loved and led.  And isn't that what we give?

Isn't that what I've given since before he was born?  Isn't that enough?

Love comes daily, in moments sometimes memory-stored but mostly just thankless and forgotten.   The leading comes in the doing and being--loving their father, serving others, seeking the Kingdom and knowing the King, making choices sometimes hard but wise, inviting them to real life when it's going through mountains and not over or around them.  

They're always watching, even when their eyes are closed.

Mine were part of the Hard Choice we made, the one that called each of us to sacrifice something precious.  They are the reason we could make the hard choice, and yes, we've praised them over and over, and oh, how they rose to the occasion.

Let 'em rise, let 'em rise!  Can you hear it in the silence?  What an injustice...what a disservice...to never give them space to rise!

Rising has a cost but the benefits outweigh.

False guilt, be damned!  I see the good and the glory if I just look for it, and isn't mother-guilt nothing more than satan's ploy to strike at Achilles Heel?  Kill, steal, destroy--oh how he knows a mother's weak spot.  He uses our babies as an offensive shield and when I think of it like that, I think Really...I'm letting my children serve as a weapon against me?  Puhlease....

I'm not interested in giving him victory, especially when my children are the casualty.

* * * * *

My baby is 15.  Yesterday I drove him to the DMV to take the written test for his learner's permit and a new driver was born.

When he was fast asleep, I tiptoed into his room to congratulate him and welcome the milestone with a belated birthday kiss.  What he doesn't know won't hurt him.

And because I'd never pray it, my wish upon a star went something like...

*

*

*

if only one more day like this.

(in)RL, irony and I'm kinda an idiot

Chances are, if you come to my house for a party, I'm going to put you to work.

 

Everyone gathering around to add their personal contributions
for our (in)RL Recipe Book; scroll down to see the end result.

Saturday evening, a dozen friends in my house joined 1,700 around the world as incourage launched its first ever...

(in)RL.

(in)RL might be difficult to grasp at first, but once you understand its premise, you'll see its BRILLIANCE:

It's a global initiative by (in)courage (DaySpring's website for encouraging women) to encourage women to engage in their community and, with great intention, to strengethen and nurture friendship.  

Once hosts registered a meet-up, it was up to them whether to have a large function at a central venue, meet friends for coffee or something in between.  On the day we announced the (un)conference, two local women immediately signed up to host! My plan all along was to attend both of THEIR meet-ups.

Until one of them had to back out because of a personal conflict.

Long story short, the remaining meet-up host (and a sweet friend of mine), Megan (Life Together blog) and I decided to join forces and have a party at my house.  

I am so thankful to Megan and (in)courage for prompting me to do something I've wanted to do often and forever!  They gave me that little nudge to just DO IT!

Two weeks after returning home from Germany, I opened my doors for this gathering of girlfriends.  And it was good.

Because I knew I'd be tied up getting my house in order after being gone for two months, I asked everyone to bring their favorite sweet or savory appetizer along with a stack of recipe cards to share; for a little surcie, we made recipe books for everyone to take home featuring the items we made!

Our meet-up was planned for 5:30-8:30 and my favorite part of that was friends stayed until 11!  

 The first irony is we never got to ANY of the (in)RL content of the "planned" activities--

After guests filled their plates FULL of the wonderful food they brought, we sat around my den and played a version of Six Degrees of Separation--introducing ourselves and explaining who we knew in the room and how we knew 'em.  THAT TOOK THREE HOURS!  

And because we're all g.i.r.l.s., there were plenty of bunny trails during our informal meet and greet; like when we got to cancer survivor Keena, and the way she shared about her life-long friendship with Stephanie and how God had worked in and through hard circumstances, well, it was beautiful.  

But here's where I feel like an idiot:  I'm a long-time blogger; everyone knows I take pictures OF EVERYTHING and ANYTHING could end up on PENSIEVE.

But that night, in addition to not sharing the wonderful content (in)courage had available for us, I FORGOT TO TAKE PICTURES!  Now, don't get me wrong, I took a few, but never did it cross my mind to take a group shot, never once did I think "Oh, THAT'S the kinda picture I need for a post," etc.  I got lots of blurry photos of food, but way too few of my FRIENDS.

It was so much fun (at least for me), I was in the moment and just.  not.  thinkin'.  

I KNOW the countless hours Lisa-Jo and the DaySpring team have spent shooting video and writing content for this weekend; and it's wonderful, heartfelt, sometimes tear-jerking content about relationships and love and friendship and community and how Jesus makes us sisters.  

But here's the irony, the beauty:

Though Megan and I never felt like it was "right" to interrupt the flow of conversation to share the (in)RL videos (and we had watched several, so we KNEW they were great), we accomplished the very thing (in)RL hoped to accomplish:

We loved, we learned, we built, we engaged, we cared, we listened, we talked.

And even if that makes me an idiot, despite the irony of "not doing what we were supposed to," I think maybe, just maybe...

that's just fine.

:)

p.s.  Whew!  Lisa-Jo commented and I'm not in the doghouse :).  In fact, I think she might send me chocolate!! 

Simple mom ≠ simple parenting (especially when we're talking about teens!)

Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day;
teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime.
~ Unattributed Chinese proverb

As is often the case, one of the best things a parent can give their teenager is hardly a thing at all: it's room.

Room...

• to make their own decisions and to enjoy the sense of accomplishment associated with wise choices—or—to endure the consequences or poor choices;
• to learn life lessons never taught in a class or between pages in a book; and
• to grow.

Parenting is tricky; time doesn't play fair.

Days are long, years are short—before we know it, our pre-pubescent grade-schooler is learning to drive! There are no defining lines to mark seasons in development; they rarely occur overnight. Sometimes shift is so subtle you don't even realize it when you've left one stage and entered the next.

My point?

 

* * * * * *

Continue reading at Simple Mom by clicking this link; I'm eager and curious to hear your responses...!

Ain't too proud to beg, sweet darlin'

A wonderful, local restaurant, The Public House, asked Chattanoogans to honor a mom in their life by writing a poem about her.  In response, I wrote a short tribute to my mother-in-law (for newer readers who might not know, I lost my mom to cancer when I was a little girl and my MIL has been a God-gift).  At stake is a family meal to celebrate! 

Would you take 30 seconds to vote for us (just click the logo)?  My submission is titled "A Tribute to Sarah."  You don't have to live in Chattanooga ~ or even the U.S., my German co-ex-patriots!! With Tad out of town that weekend, this might just be the only way I'll get out of cooking my own Mother's Day lunch; mostly, it would be a delicious way to surprise my sweet mother-in-love.  (No registration required but Public House would appreciate a Facebook "like".) 

With all my heart (and a growling stomach) I offer my undying thanks!