Squeaky Clean

Yes, it's officially Spring, and you know what that means, of course. No, I'm not thinking of baseball, birds in their nests, or warm weather right around the corner. I'm talkin' about Spring Cleaning! That's when we knot a kerchief around our hair, tie an apron around our waist, and carry the a feather duster like a torch in our right hand. Wait ... that's a past generation I'm thinking of. Lucille Ball, June Cleaver, and their friends.

But that's the kind of deep-cleaning I need to do this year, sans the kerchief and apron. We want to get the house on the market by the end of this month. Time is scampering away from us like a two-year-old trying to escape their mother's clutch at bedtime.

Yesterday I spent most of my energy whipping the house into shape. With just John and me living in it, it really doesn't get too out-of-control. But I'd been sick over the weekend and a few things needed my attention. Plus, I don't usually clean with Q-tips. A feather duster, maybe, but not their Mini Me cousin, the Q-tip.

I know those cute little things were designed to clean the outer aspects of my ear, but I must confess I love to dig a little deeper. There's something so satisfying about being able to reach an itch that's just beyond where the tip of my pinkie will reach. Those swabs got a big workout yesterday, as I used them to clean the tracks in our sliding windows, reach into small corners and dig out accumulated dirt, as well as to scratch inside my ear. I even dug out the putty knife to remove extra caulk and plaster around some of the windows. Things I should have done three years ago when we passed our final inspection.

Why is it I've waited until some stranger is going to buy the house before tending to the little details that make it perfect? When we moved here, I told myself I would always keep it in ready-to-sell condition. But my human-ness crept in and here I am doing the nitty-gritty cleaning for someone else to enjoy. I'm sure there's more I could say about this phenomenon, but if you'll excuse me, I've got an itchy ear to attend to!

When the Roof Caves In

Have you ever been through a major building project or remodel at your home? You know, it always takes longer than estimated and something unexpected is sure to happen along the way. One wrong move and the whole structure of the house is changed, leading to cracked walls and a falling ceiling. The same thing can happen in our personal lives. So, what do you do when life as you know it takes a U-turn? When you’re hit in the gut with devastating news that impacts every aspect of your existence?

During the past month I’ve had to deal with these questions. I’ve gone to places and feelings that I never dreamed would be part of my life.

My initial reaction was to cling. To cling to the Loving Heavenly Father with Whom I’ve developed a relationship and deep trust through the past decades. It’s been a time of realizing that though the circumstances of life are changing in ways I wouldn’t have chosen, the Giver of Life remains the same. God is good all the time. All the time, God is good. I remembered that this incident didn’t take Him by surprise. That there are lessons He desires me to learn as I walk through it, and character traits He wants to develop. The worst thing I can do is to waste this experience—to be the same a year from now as I was before the roof caved in.

I don’t know what challenge you’re facing right now, but know that you don’t have to go through it alone. Cling to the Lord and remember His promises. Turn to Christian friends for prayer and support. Be honest about how you feel. Expect to hurt, but also expect to grow. Accept the peace God offers. And remember He is the one who can put your house back together, even when shingles blow off and beams collapse.

“God will strengthen you with His own great power so that you will not give up when troubles come, but you will be patient.” Colossians 1:11

The Gales of Change

Now that Christina has posted about her situation, I'm free to write about it also. If you read her blog (http://authorchristinaberry.blogspot.com) you know that her marriage of thirteen years is over. This came as a complete surprise to her, as well as us, and the shock of that cannot fully be conveyed. There was no time to prepare for the bad news and its ensuing pain.

It feels like an unexpected death in the family. It creates that "I'm on the verge of throwing up" feeling in the pit of my stomach. It takes me to a place I never thought I'd be.

I realize that many parents have to watch their children go through the devastation of divorce and that it's never easy. But John and I are in a different situation than most. For the past four years we have shared a multi-generational home with Christina and her family. John built the lower story into our dream home, where we planned on living until we died. Instead, it's the kids' marriage that has died.

Because of the change in her financial situation, Christina will no longer be able to afford to live upstairs. And we certainly don't want to live here without her. Ashberry Lane is more about the people than the locale. Our piece of Eden has been changed by the fall.

So not only do John and I have to watch our daughter and her kids go through this change in every part of their lives, but our future is drastically changed too. We will be putting Ashberry Lane on the market and looking for new housing in whatever nearby community Christina moves to. We won't share a house, as we'll never again find a place like this, but will live close by.

My friends have gathered around to lend support as I walk through this painful time. Everyone is so shocked by what has happened to Christina and how it is going to impact our lives. I have held on to the fact that God has not been surprised by this. He is still in charge, still in control. He will bring beauty from ashes and restore our joy. He has lessons to teach us, character to build. I want to accept this with an open heart and not waste the suffering.

Out of the Mouths of ...

Last night a friend of mine came up and said, "I just have to tell you what one of your AWANA kids did today." As she started her story, I soon realized she was talking about her seven-year old son. She had walked out to the living room and been shocked to find three-inch high letters scratched into the beautiful finish of her piano bench. A lone pair of scissors lay in guilty silence nearby. "Elijah, what did you do?!!" He admitted to the crime, though he didn't seem to understand the seriousness of it right away. So his mother spent some time talking with him about his transgression and of how he could never do something like that again. He asked her to put the scissors up high where he wouldn't be able to reach them, but she said she wouldn't do that, as he needed to learn self-control. She went on to say that he would need to be punished, but stipulated that the punishment would be determined by him. "Elijah, I want you to think about the seriousness of what you've done, and then you tell me what you think you should take for doing that." He thought for a bit, then seriously replied, "Mom, I think I'll take mercy!"

The IDAhope Writer's Conference

Christina and I had a wonderful time this past weekend when we flew to Boise, Idaho, for the first-ever IDAhope Writer's Conference. It was hosted by the local ACFW chapter, headed by Angela Meuser. She and her fellow officers did a phenomenal job putting everything together.

What was especially exciting for us was that Christina and I were invited to be presenters, for the first time in our writing career. We had a blast planning our two sessions. We taught one class together, called "Writing in Tandem: How to Maximize Your Writing Relationships." That covered dealing with editors, agents, critique partners, readers, mentors and mentorees, and of course, co-authors. It was very practical, as we shared things we've learned in our years of writing together.

Christina taught a class on her own (we're not really joined at the hip!) entitled "Five Best Tips for a New Writer." It was fun for me to sit back and watch her do her thing. She has developed into a good public speaker and people came up to me afterward to say how much they had enjoyed both classes. Christina, as a contracted author, was able to sit down with some of the conferees and help them make their writing better. One of the ladies she worked with approached me later and said, "Your daughter is so sweet. She's able to be positive and yet show me what I need to work on. She really knows how to work with a middle-aged woman." I said, "That's because she lives with one!"

What seemed surreal to us was that we were on the author panel Friday evening along with Robin Lee Hatcher. We first read her books years ago, and in all our time with OCW and ACFW had never had a chance to meet her. She lives in the Boise area and taught a couple of classes for the weekend, as well as did a key note speech. She's written over 60 books now, and she's not even that old! I mean, how can a person write more books than their age??!! We got to spend some one-on-one (I guess it would really be two-on-one) time with her Saturday afternoon. What a friendly, down-to-earth woman she is.



We flew back to Portland on Sunday morning and were home in time to prepare for hosting a Super Bowl party and leading at Awana. By the time Sunday night arrived we were both pretty tired and glad for the chance to sit down and relax before starting a busy week by showing up in court Monday morning for a foster care case.

It seems the Lord has suddenly opened up speaking/teaching opportunities for us over the past few months, and in to the coming months. We hope that keeps happening. And we'd love to get invited back to the IDAhope conference!

The Responsible One

In my family I was always known as "the responsible one." I'm the oldest of five children, so I guess I came by the nickname naturally. (I'm also known as Bubbles and Moochie, but explanations for those terms of endearment are not for this post.)

Because of the experience I had today, I think one of my siblings is going to have to take the title away from me, as I am no longer deserving of such an accolade. I hang my head in shame to admit to the following story, but those of you who follow my blogs understand that I am entirely capable of doing this brainless thing.

It all started very innocently. Christina was accompanying her second grader on a field trip today, so she asked me to take her foster daughter, "Angel", to her visit with her mother. No problem--I've done it before, I could certainly do it again. The one-hour visit went well and Angel and I returned to my car. I unlocked the passenger side of my two-door T-bird, threw my keys and purse onto the console, and securely fastened Angel into her car seat in the back. I slammed the door and went around to the driver's side to get in. Lifted the door handle, but nothing happened. I figured I hadn't hit the button from the other side that would unlatch both doors, so went back to the passenger side to do so. Lifted the handle--nothing happened. Yep, right there in the parking lot of DHS I had managed to lock a 2-year-old foster child in my car!

What's a grandma to do?? Angel smiled at me from the back seat, enjoying the yummy treat Mommy had given her during their visit. I yelled through the window that I would be right back, and ran through the icy rain to the back door of DHS and rang the button that would let them buzz me in. When a man answered and said I could enter, I opened the door and said to the faceless voice on the intercom, "I need some help!" He came out and I explained the situation, feeling like a complete idiot. (I kept an eye on my car this whole time, though the chances of someone being able to drive off with Angel in my locked car were pretty slim!)

Long story shorter, the case worker came out and stood in the rain while I went in and called AAA. I couldn't give them much info, as my AAA card was locked in the car, but as soon as they heard I had a two-year-old in a locked car in wintry conditions, and eating a snack that she might choke on, they said they'd make it a high priority call and get someone there as soon as possible. I went back to the car and spent the next fifteen minutes making faces through the window and singing Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star to an adorable little girl who stayed happy and didn't choke. (The case worker and I decided we'd break a window if necessary.)

Finally a tow truck pulled up and a big old guy got out, hitching up his pants as he made his way to my car. He worked and worked, putting wedges in the door, snaking a wire in to try to lift the door lock. (Every time he moved, his pants slipped down, his shirt slithered up and showed off an over-indulged stomach, but he was still a hero to me!) He tried for nearly 20 minutes, but wasn't having a lot of luck.

Another tow truck pulled up then, dispatched by the local police department. The guy got out and brought his tools around to the driver's side and started working. I've heard of dueling banjos, but dueling locksmiths? Forty-five minutes after trapping my keys, purse, and ... oh, yeah, a child in the car, I was rescued. The first man was able to get a wire to grab hold of my bunch of keys and bring them out through the wedge in the door.I was chilled to the bone from having stood in a big puddle all that time, and was ready for lunch, but oh, so glad that Angel had found the whole episode hugely entertaining and hadn't fussed at all.

Yes, I will be exceedingly careful to keep my keys in my hands or pockets at all times when I'm putting Angel in the car (if Christina ever trusts me with her again,) but the bigger lesson in all of this was for Angel. It was a day of teaching her opposites: warm--cold; dry--wet; full--hungry;
responsible--not so much!

Around the Bend

I awoke to beautiful sunshine Friday morning. Such a nice change from the arctic blast and snow of last month. When I opened the blinds and took a closer look outside, I saw the trees and driveway were covered with frost.

A little later I jumped in the car and headed to town to do my Curves workout. As I pulled onto the highway I noted the countryside was covered with white, but it wasn't snow. It's what we call pogonip, which I think is a Native American word for the icy fog that sometimes forms and encases the trees and each individual blade of grass with a frozen grip. Two curves later I entered a fog bank. Where was the sun? It had been streaming in my eyes just moments before.

For the next 16 miles I drove through the thick cloud, unable to see more than a few yards ahead of me. I got to Curves, did my my exercise routine, and headed to the grocery store. About two blocks from the store the weather changed yet again, and snow covered the ground. It fell against my face as I walked into the store, covered my windshield by the time I returned to my car. I retraced my way home, my headlights straining against the dense fog. Suddenly I burst out into sunshine and blue sky, but with the pogonip still painting the countryside ice-crystal white. The contrast of the icy trees against the azure sky was phenomenal. If I'd had a camera with me, you'd be looking at that beautiful winter scene right now.

My simple journey made me think of my life. I wake up in the morning having no clue (no, don't stop the sentence there!) of what will happen that day. Of what will be around the next bend in my life. I may be walking in sunshine one moment, then suddenly halted by dark circumstances that surround me, making it hard to see more than a few steps ahead. And when I think it can't get any worse, it does! Then there are those times when the pogonip and blue skies come together, the harsh realities of life mixed with the hope of more luminous days ahead.

I'm reminded of the verses from Isaiah 42 where the Lord says,"I will lead the blind along a way they never knew; I will guide them along paths they have not known. I will make the darkness become light for them, and the rough ground smooth. These are the things I will do; I will not leave my people." What a great promise to hold on to, no matter what the weather in your life.