quilted hearts: mentoring for the long haul

Dear Hazel,

I wasn't ready yet for you to go.
In your own unassuming way, you "held the ropes" for us.

It's not just that I loved you. You loved me back, too.

I bumbled into your sewing circle in the church basement, a young mom full of zeal. Mentoring was what I wanted most, advice for how to raise children, how to make my way in the world. Since I was 40 years younger than the next youngest member of the group, I thought it an ideal place to learn. I prodded, asking questions, seeking wisdom. The women hunched over the quilt looked at each other and shrugged. I think you answered first, Hazel. You said something like "Don't ask us! We're no experts!"

It bothered me then, your reticence to pass along what you had learned. I didn't realize that your answer really was an answer, the answer I needed most—that all of us muddle through the best we can and figure things out as we go, and that what we discover along the way is that there's no single right way of doing things, and no guarantees that what worked for you will work for me.

When I was silent long enough, swallowing my questions and slowing my pace, the conversation drifted back to its natural cadences—TV shows and recipes, small town news and medical reports and silences. These conversations held no instant magic, but I see now that each was another quilting thread, connecting hearts as thread joins layers of fabric stitch after stitch.

Hazel (center), the last time I saw her (photo: C Imes)

Now that you're gone, the fabric is torn and so is my heart.

Quilting is slow work, and so are relationships. Your faithfulness over the long haul created something beautiful. We could always count on you to keep the conversation moving. Although you stopped short of giving advice, you gave me something even more important—you genuinely cared about me and my journey. I know because your face would light up when I entered the room. This, too, was a kind of mentoring.

You were there when Eliana cruised around underneath the quilt frame, her bald head a traveling bump. You were there when we sold our things and said our farewells, headed to the Philippines. You were there when we returned, broken and bleeding. You said farewell again when we moved across the country. And you were always there when we came home and I showed up unannounced at sewing. Every time the group was smaller, as friends went on ahead -- Elizabeth, Vesta, Edna, Ruth, Bertha, Alice -- but I could count on you to be there.

How I wish your chair didn't stand empty now! I'm afraid if I take my place around the quilt again my tears will make a mess of it. I didn't realize how much you meant to me until it was too late to tell you.

I'd like to know how many quilts you stitched, how many dollars they fetched for the cause of world mission, how many lives were changed as a result. As meticulous as they are, the minutes of the Women's Missionary Society won't be able to tell me that. But I know that your faithful giving and serving has brought light and life to many others around the world, including mine.

So Thank You, Hazel.
You'll be sorely missed.

friends of many colors

Anthropologists and missiologists sometimes use the term "Third-Culture Kid" (TCK) to describe those growing up in a culture that is not home to either of their parents. As a result they end up feeling like they don't fully belong in either culture, but are comfortable interacting with others from around the globe. I have often wondered if this label applies to my own children.

Though we've been missionaries for 13 years, all but 2-1/2 of these were spent in the U.S. Eliana was a wee thing when we lived and traveled overseas. But she has changed zip codes innumerable times. (Ok, that's an exaggeration, but she is attending her 9th school this year and living at her 10th address!) She's experienced living on the East Coast (South), in the Midwest, and in the Northwest, as well as the Philippines. And even when her feet are firmly planted on American soil, she has a magnetic attraction to other cultures.

How magnetic, you ask? Here's a list of the nationalities of some of her closest friends at each age of her life:

Age 2-3 - British, Filipino, Korean, American
4-5 - African-American
6 - Cuban and Japanese
7 - Indian
8-9 - Ethiopian, American
10 - Indonesian
11 - Filipino, African-American, Guatemalan
12 - Mexican-American, Filipino, Dominican
13 - Korean, American
14 - French, Brazilian

What is responsible for Eliana's multi-culturalism? Why is she more comfortable with nationalities other than her own? Why is her favorite class this year AP Human Geography?

Is it my own fascination with other cultures?
I'll never forget the day in 4th grade when Ana came home and told me she had made a new friend. She was apologetic because her new friend was white (!). That's when I realized that I had probably been too overt about my own quest for cross-cultural relationships.

Is it all the books we've read from around the world?
Many of those books are featured on my 'Best Kids Books' list to the right of this post. It started Eliana on a reading journey that continues today.

Was it living in the Philippines at a formative age?
This might have had the opposite effect. Eliana associated Tagalog with being pinched or otherwise harassed in the market. She refused to speak Tagalog, even when she understood it, and began to hate going shopping with me so I left her at home. On the other hand, "Nanay" was a beloved member of our family while we lived in the Philippines, and Eliana spent many happy hours with her. She also loved attending preschool with friends of many colors.

Or is it part of God's call on Eliana's life? Part of how he's wired her? Time will tell!

For now, I am thoroughly enjoying the journey.

bored by Leviticus or lost in Numbers? don't miss this

I've already mentioned this resource last year, but it's getting better all the time as more videos are released, and I'm guessing that some of you blew me off the first time, so I'm going to say it again, LOUDER.

This is quite simply the BEST COLLECTION OF BIBLE VIDEOS I have ever seen. The content is solid. The graphics are impressive. The cost is affordable (It's FREE!). In just minutes you'll begin to understand how the books of the Bible fit together, and how each one contributes to the Bible's overall message.

There's a reason why over 42,000 people have already subscribed to these videos on YouTube (Genesis is nearing 200,000 views).

There's a reason why I used class time to show these videos to seminary students earlier this year.

And there's a reason why all three of my kids were captivated this afternoon watching them. After watching Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, and Hebrews, Eliana (age 14) announced that she was going to head to her room and watch them all again. Emma (age 10) said, "That was amazing!" And Easton (age 7) declared that he wanted to send some of his own money to help fund more videos.

They're that good.

Think the Bible is boring? or confusing? Or do you love it and want a way to share that love with others? Look no further! Watch it come to life at www.jointhebibleproject.com or get started right here:

Is the video you want to see not available yet? Keep checking back. The team is upping production speed so that all the biblical book videos will be out as soon as next year!

Best. Mother's Day. Ever.

This is my 15th Mother's Day as a mom, if you count the one following my first pregnancy, which ended in miscarriage. I've received a lot of sweet crafts and cards from my kids, and flowers, chocolate, etc. But this year tops them all.

First, 10 days ago my girls took me on a special early Mother's Day date. Eliana paid for lunch at The Old Spaghetti Factory and then the new Cinderella movie. It was a red letter day. We loved the food, enjoyed our time together immensely, and were enthralled by the movie. It was wonderful!

Then, when Mother's Day actually arrived, I had the honor of sharing the podium at church with my delightful 14-year-old daughter. It wasn't originally planned that way, but two events -- my preaching and her announcement -- just happened to find their way to the same day on the calendar. Mother's Day was the occasion for my invitation to preach, but because of Eliana, yesterday was also "Compassion Sunday."

Months ago we received a letter in the mail from Compassion International. Because the child we sponsor shares a birthday with Eliana, all the mail from Compassion is addressed to her. This one invited her to become an advocate for Compassion International by hosting an event at our church. It caught her attention. A few days later, we were on campus together at Multnomah and a volunteer representative from Compassion just happened to be there manning a table. I was busy meeting with a student, so Eliana wandered over to the table to find out more. Without any involvement from me, the correspondence between them continued over the ensuing weeks. Before long a box came in the mail for Eliana with photos of children waiting to be sponsored, a T-shirt for her to wear, and posters to hang at church. She met with the Compassion representative along with one of our pastors to plan the event.

Yesterday I sat proudly in the front row and watched Eliana address our congregation and introduce the Compassion volunteer. She looked completely at ease as she give a stirring plea for all of us to consider. Where did this beautiful, responsible, articulate, and motivated young lady come from? And what happened to our little girl? The best part was that Eliana planned the entire thing from start to finish. What a gift to see God at work in and through our children!

Wait . . . that's not all. By the time we packed up and headed home, 13* new children had sponsors! Way to go, Eliana! That's the best Mother's Day present I can imagine.

-----

*Update: Some folks took a week to think and pray about sponsorship. By the end of the next week's services, the grand total rose to 20 sponsored kids as a result of Compassion Sunday!

In case you missed the press release in 2013, Compassion International submitted to an independent study by academics in the social sciences to find out if child sponsorship really works. The outcome far surpassed expectations. Compared with un-sponsored kids from the same families and communities, sponsored children grow up to earn more, learn more, be healthier and become leaders in their churches and communities. Sponsorship empowers young people to exit the cycle of poverty. Educating girls is the single most effective strategy for alleviating world poverty.

For related blog posts about inspiring kids to make a difference, click here and here.

"all grown up"

This was a big week at our house. And I mean BIG.

I taught a FULL week of classes at Multnomah University and Western Seminary, subbing 14 hours for one of my mentors while he was out of the country and beginning my own class on the Gospels and Acts. I taught Exodus, Leviticus, New Testament Biblical Theology, Hermeneutics (for Heb-Rev), Bible Study Methods, and Gospels.

One of the best parts of teaching this week was sharing the experience with Eliana (age 13). In November, I paid her a dollar to read through my syllabus and look for typos. She thought the class sounded so cool that she wanted to sit in on it, too. Since she's doing high school online through a public charter school, she has a flexible enough schedule for that to work. I'm delighted to have her rubbing shoulders with such a great group of students and experiencing the campus that was so formative for me and Danny.

One morning I came down to breakfast dressed for teaching. Eliana did a double-take and said, "Mom, you look all grown up today!" Um . . . as opposed to . . . yesterday? (when she said I looked very "professional") This is the same daughter who told me recently that I really need to look into getting a refund for the wrinkle cream I'm using. Gotta love having a teenager in the house!

As if having a high schooler was not enough to make me feel old, our "baby" had his last day of first grade yesterday. Easton's teachers and principal decided that he should move up to second grade. Effective immediately. Which means that this fall I'll have a 3rd grader, a 5th grader, and a 10th grader. In three years we'll be sending our oldest off to college and in 10 we'll be empty nesting. Where has the time gone? Before you know they'll all be grown up!

embracing the ordinary

In the two months that have passed since my most recent post, a lot of life has happened:

• 2 weeks in Israel on a study tour with my Dad, my doktorvater, and my pastor
• 10 days to pack for a cross-country move and say our goodbyes
• a garage sale in Wheaton
• a drive across 7 states to our new home with a 3-day stop in Colorado to be with family
• Easton's 6th birthday
• the death of my grandmother, age 93, in Washington state and her memorial service the day after we arrived in Oregon
• getting settled in our new home and integrating all of my grandma's things into it
• reconnecting with friends and family
• a garage sale in Oregon
• finding a new church in our neighborhood
• figuring out grocery stores, libraries, parks, museums, etc.
• a 5-day camping trip with Danny's mom and all of his brothers and their families
• helping with a week of Vacation Bible School at our home church in Oregon
• getting the kids registered for school
• organizing and re-organizing the garage to make room for Danny's office
• buying a washer and dryer
• beginning dissertation research again after a 4-month hiatus

With the exception of my trip to Israel, this list is not glamorous. It represents a lot of sweat and a lot of stress, and even a good deal of fun, but it does not appear to be a recipe for changing the world (or making a splash in academia, for that matter). This was brought home to me when I encountered a (very blunt) young adult from our home church this week who has watched the adventure of our life unfold over the past dozen years. He remembers when we set out for the Philippines in 2002, ready to reach the lost for Christ. Our early letters, he says, were exciting and inspiring. But then life got ordinary. We moved to North Carolina to work at headquarters, and our "biggest" news then was playing soccer [sic: kickball] with the neighbor kids. He didn't need to even mention our next move -- a journey into academic obscurity in Wheaton -- for me to get his point: we've become rather ordinary, nothing to write home about.

Fair enough, I told him, and moved on with the task of eating my dinner and getting ready to be mobbed by more than a dozen precious kids, well over half of them hispanic, for a loud and crazy night of VBS. All through the crafts, games, snacks, and Bible stories, I pondered our brief conversation. Was he right?

In my younger years, when we started our adventure in missions, I would have agreed with him. Life was too short to waste it on ordinary suburban life -- a house with a cute front yard, a minivan, 2.5 kids, plenty of time with family, and occasional trips to Disneyland. I still agree that if that's all there is to it, something is amiss. But a dozen years in ministry has taught me that the recipe for a transformed life calls for large quantities of patient, ordinary, faithful investment and only an occasional headline-making event. Going to Israel was great, for example, but the true fruit will come from years of Bible teaching injected with personal passion and on-the-ground experience. 

View of Ancient Shechem from Mt. Gerazim - Photo C. Imes

A Samaritan Village on Mt. Gerazim - Photo C. Imes

 On Tuesday night of VBS, we heard the story of the Samaritan woman at the well, which I've blogged about before. I was excited for two reasons. First, the story was being told in first-person by my teenage daughter, who did a fabulous job!  But I was also excited because I have been there. While we couldn't get to the well itself because we lacked a bullet-proof bus, we drove to the top of Mt. Gerazim and looked down into the valley where the ancient city of Shechem (and Jacob's well) has now been swallowed up by modern-day Nablus. 

We drove right through a Samaritan village and climbed off the bus at the site of their annual sacrifice (commemorating the sacrifice of Isaac on -- they say -- Mt. Gerazim). We saw their distinctive dress and saw first-hand how the 600 Samaritans alive today maintain a distinct identity from their Jewish neighbors. 

A Samaritan Priest - photo C. Imes

It was my first opportunity to spice up a Bible lesson with a story from our trip, and I hope there are many more opportunities in the days ahead. Our lives may look ordinary on the outside, but it's never been about us anyway. We carry inside this ordinary vessel the extraordinary power of the gospel:

"For what we preach is not ourselves [good thing!], but Jesus Christ as Lord, and ourselves as your servants for Jesus' sake. For God, who said, 'Let light shine out of darkness,' made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of God's glory displayed in the face of Christ. But we have this treasure in jars of clay [that is, ordinary jars for everyday use] to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. . . . So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal." 2 Corinthians 4:5-7, 18

We have new neighbors who need to meet Jesus, and we'll be far more likely to earn an opportunity to share Christ if we take the time to play kickball with them than if we decide that the effort is not worth our time. So here's hoping for lots of ordinary days . . .

on the lighter side

Eliana (standing by my dresser, holding a bottle quizzically): What is this, Mom? Some sort of hairspray?
Me: No, it's wrinkle cream.
Eliana (a bit startled): Wrinkle cream?! But it's too late!

So true. :) May I age with grace ...

"You who are young, be happy while you are young,
and let your heart give you joy in the days of your youth."
Ecclesiastes 11:9

"Even to old age and gray hairs, O God, do not forsake me,
until I proclaim your might to all the generations to come."
Psalm 71:18 

dearly beloved

Whether playing games or working on my dissertation,
Ana and I make a great team!

Christmas break afforded lots of extra time with the kids. Thanks to -40 degree windchill we had a few extra days to snuggle and play together. I sure love these dear little people! Highlights from the past few weeks include gifts, games, and a marriage proposal ...

Eliana (12) took on an extra project last week: skimming my dissertation and highlighting all the abbreviations so that I could type up a complete list. She's getting taller by the day (already up to my nose!) and delights in spending time with her parents. She enjoyed all the extra game time with me this break. Our new favorite is Ticket to Ride, but Backgammon is a close second. She played 'Hand and Foot' (a card game) along with all the grown-ups this year, and looked very grown-up herself in her new Christmas dress from Grandma.

Emma reading to her cousin, Charlotte

Emma (8) has been full of holiday sparkle. She comes alive giving gifts, and the holidays give her the perfect opportunity to bless those she loves. She is so good with little ones—she bonded instantly with her Colorado cousins, Charlotte (3) and Kate (2). It was sweet to watch her reading to them, playing with them, and caring for them. She's also become quite the game player—I keep losing these days!

Easton (5) is extremely loquacious these days and lots of fun. One day he told us that the world inside his head is called "Discoveration!" I couldn't have thought of a better word myself. When Easton's not discovering something new he's making up something truly incredible. This morning he was busy caring for 77 invisible dogs and one new puppy!

Danny, waking Easton up one morning: "Hey bud, you said you would wake up on your own this morning."
Easton, sleepily: "Yah, but my dream unsmarted me."

Easton has already spent countless hours
inventing things with the Construx set
he got for Christmas.  Thanks, Uncle John!

Easton: "Mom, can you imagine when I turn 18?"
Me: "Yes, buddy. I can picture dropping you off at the dorm so you can start your degree in Engineering."
Easton, after a few moments of concentrated thought: "Mom, can I skip dissertation?"
You should have seen him dance for joy when I told him that most people never have to write a dissertation!

After playing with a friend on New Year's Eve, Easton informed me, "Mom, when we're 18, Abigail and I are going to move in together."
"Ummm.... you're not going to get married first?"
"No, because I don't like kisses."
The next morning, he announced matter-of-factly, "Mom, I changed my mind. I want to marry Abigail. She's adorable, and I'm in love with her."
Later he composed a letter to her. Emma wrote it down for him (and probably influenced the content considerably, but it does capture his heart):

Dear Abby,
I love you and I want to marry you! It would be so fun to have kids! But I might not be able to marry you because God has plans for me. Thank you for being my friend. Let's be best friends forever! :)
Love your best, best friend, 
Easton

He was delighted when Abigail did not rebuff his proposal. She wants to get married, too. It will be exciting to see what God has in store for these kiddos!

divine appointment

We had no idea. Slipping outside and starting up the hill together, hand in hand, Mom and Daughter, we were thinking of ice cream. We chatted as we walked, swinging our arms. We laughed. At the stop sign we waited, and then crossed the street and stepped onto campus. The lawn's expanse and massive trees always inspire me. But today . . .

I can't recall who noticed it first, the smooth white icing clouds in the East, fading up into lovely pink and lavender haze. Still walking, we looked up, drawn into the beauty, and then slowly turned and stopped, awestruck. Behind us the sky was a stunning turquoise, laced with puffy white trails. The blue's intensity held us, transfixed. We kept staring as celestial winds hastened north, pulling wisps of white in their wake. Down below, beyond the trees, the horizon shone molten yellow, like liquid, brilliant gold. We soaked it in, speechless.

What if we had missed this! We moved uphill together, hoping to catch more of the Artist's painting. In those brief moments everything changed again—from turquoise to resonant blue, from honey gold to flaming fuchsia. Far above us the winds kept coaxing, drawing airy strings across the firmament. At last we surrendered, hearts bursting at the seams. We entered the student center and bought our ice cream, but the memory of that sky pulled us back outdoors, expectant.

Less than 5 minutes had elapsed, but the grand exhibition was over. Some cosmic hole had opened up and all the vibrant color had drained away, leaving only a pale and tired blue in its wake. The horizon was quenched. Our hearts, too, were silent—awed by the display of His majesty.

The heavens declare the glory of God;

the skies proclaim the work of his hands.

Day after day they pour forth speech;

night after night they reveal knowledge.

They have no speech, they use no words;

no sound is heard from them.

Yet their voice goes out into all the earth,

their words  to the ends of the world.

Psalm 19:1–4

rite of passage

A lot of big stuff happened at our house this week.

Easton (age 5) learned to skip.

Eliana (age 12) got a part in the school play.

Both girls started piano lessons for the first time (not counting lessons at home with us).

And Emma (age 8) made a very big decision. She was running away. Things just weren't going her way. To be honest, I can't even remember what set her off. Generally it's the really grievous things like when someone smiles at her and tells her she looks pretty, or when I refuse to help her with a really challenging homework assignment (such as basic addition) because I'm busy reading to Easton. Enough is enough, really.

She demanded a suitcase. I calmly suggested that if she was running away she would need to learn to fend for herself. She stomped off and found one without my help and started packing. The only problem was that we were headed out to eat for dinner to celebrate her 8th birthday. She certainly didn't want to miss that, so she informed us all that she would be leaving in the middle of the night . . . after her special dinner.

As I tucked her in that evening, I let her know that I would really miss her, and that I hoped she packed a toothbrush (she hadn't). She burst into tears, gave me a big hug, and said she didn't want to run away from home after all. (Phew!) We had a good talk about asking God to help us manage our anger, and she went to sleep peacefully. In case you're having deja vu, yes, this has happened before in the Imes household. That story, too, had a happy ending. Running away must be an 8-year-old rite of passage.

A few days later we were getting the house ready for dinner guests when I noticed Emma's suitcase, still packed and ready in the corner. I suggested we unpack it since she had decided to stay. Imagine my delight to discover that not only had she packed a jacket and a pair of pajamas, she had packed her Bible as well. I might be a horrible Mom sometimes, hard to live with and terribly unfair, but I must be doing something right! In any case, it was a good sign. If that's all she takes with her when she leaves home, she'll be well prepared for anything that comes her way.

this summer by the numbers

I realize the irony of writing this post after the last one, but rest assured that none of these numbers define who I am. They just give you a picture of what I've been up to this summer!

0 - landlords on the planet who are better than ours
1 - core dissertation chapter left to write

2 - new cousins our kids gained this summer (wahoo!)
3 - VBS programs our kids participated in this year

4 - total number of core chapters in my dissertation

5 - years since Easton was born
5 - live paintings I did on stage during VBS

6 - hour drive to Honey Rock to pick up Eliana

10 - days Emma and Easton had swimming lessons

12 - total days Eliana will spend at Honey Rock

15 - years Danny and I have been married
16 - years old our oldest neice is - old enough to come visit us!

17 - days' notice we had before Danny's brother got married

18 - days until school starts
27 - number of camp scholarships raised by VBS kids

32 - books left on my comprehensive reading list

36 - years since I was born (as of today)

43 - days until my next chapter is due

45 - weeks until our lease is up in Wheaton

48 - months this blog has been running
91 - pages in my latest dissertation chapter
125 - kids in our church's VBS program

188 - books I have finished on my comps list
189 - approximate gallons of latex seal coating Danny applied to driveways with our landlord

207 - days until my defense draft is due
235 - total pages I have written so far

273 - pictures I took at Danny's brother's wedding
280 - days until graduation
315 - total number of blog posts I have published
1,349 - dollars the kids brought during VBS to help fund camp scholarships through Sports Friends

2,589 - pages left to read carefully for comps

15,232 - total pages to read carefully for comps

26,171 - words in the chapter I turned in yesterday
34,182 - pageviews on my blog to date

73,080 - words I have written for my dissertation

100,000 - dissertation words I am allowed to write

limitless - grace of God that has carried us through another season!

just one year

my second chapter in progress

They say the first year goes by quickly, and that it should be cherished. (By this I'm pretty sure Carter's means that you should go ahead and buy lots of darling outfits for your baby, because they'll only be that little for a short time—a clever marketing gimmick!) It's true. Time flies.

But I hope this year does not. Danny informed me yesterday that I have exactly one year before my dissertation defense draft is due (click here if you need a refresher on what that is). I'm shooting for a defense date of April 11, 2014. That means it's time to buckle up and buckle down!

my second chapter ... finally done!

A Wheaton dissertation must be no more than 100,000 words (roughly 300 pages). I've written over 40,000 words so far (about 130 pages). Last week I turned in my second of four main chapters. Today I'm revising my first chapter. Next week I'll dive into my third.

I'm still taking one PhD Seminar and studying Ugaritic, but in two months I'll be ABD, with nothing standing between me and the deadline. Eliana (11), who doesn't miss a trick, has begun telling her friends they can call me Dr. Imes.

Easton celebrates progress!

Meanwhile, I'm chipping away at my comprehensive reading list, and the kids are cheering me on every step of the way. After I turned in my second chapter, Danny and the kids picked me up from the library and whisked me away to Olive Garden to celebrate. I had barely opened the van door when Easton (4) asked cheerfully, "Mom, are you done with your PhD?"

Not yet, buddy. But I'm getting closer!

friendships—ancient and modern

After a very intense first year of doctoral study, it feels like we're coming out of a tunnel and into the sunlight. We're ready for friendships, ready to invest in conversations, ready to show hospitality, and so glad to be out of "survival" mode. It's good timing. Eliana is in middle school, now. With Emma in 2nd grade, Easton in preschool, and me at Wheaton, we have 4 different school schedules to keep track of and lots of potential connections with other families.

In the week preceding the start of school, I was asked to read Aristotle's Nicomachean Ethics. The title is more intimidating than the book itself. It was surprisingly easy to read. He has two whole chapters on the nature of true friendship and the factors that must be in place in order for friendships to thrive. I found his words strikingly relevant to our context. Most of what he says about friendship is still true today.

For example, he says,

• "Perfect friendship is the friendship of men who are good, and alike in virtue" (page 196 in the edition pictured)
• "those who wish well to their friends for their sake are most truly friends" (196)
• "a wish for friendship may arise quickly, but friendship does not" (197)

Meanwhile, Eliana and I were working through another book together: The Smart Girl's Guide to Starting Middle School, a practical and helpful publication by American Girl. When we came to the chapter on friendship, I almost laughed. Their advice sounded exactly like Aristotle. Who would have thought?

Check this out:
"Another question that arises is whether friendships should or should not be broken off when the other party does not remain the same" (Aristotle, 225)

"It's pretty clear by now that you'll be be going through a lot of changes in middle school—both physical and emotional. And the same will go for your friends, too. Since friendships are often based on having the same likes and activities, you may find your relationships strengthening or souring ..." (Smart Girl's Guide, 66)

So take your pick on what to read—Aristotle or American Girl. But do yourself a favor and find a friend.

Friendships are such an important part of life. It can feel like life is too busy for friends, but a friendless life is not sustainable. And that's why I'm delighted that Eliana has had such a great time getting to know a new friend. She and her best friend Gwyn have connected with another new student. Caasi is from the Philippines, and her dad is a new PhD student at Wheaton. Since we lived in the Philippines for 2 1/2 years when Eliana was little, it's been really fun for all of us to have a new connection with a Filipino family.


"In the end, your middle school friends will likely be a blend of old and new friends" (Smart Girl's Guide, 63). So, go out and make a new friend today!

deep in conversation

I've had very little time to blog for the past month, because I've been busy listening in on ancient conversations. What a joy it's been to dig around in the library and unearth treasures old and new! After two months of a rather intense schedule of research and writing, I've produced a draft of my first full-length dissertation chapter. Though I'm still waiting to fill a few holes (once books arrive from other libraries) and edit the final project, it feels so good to have the bulk of the work done.

Here's a glimpse of what it takes to write a dissertation chapter (now that I know!):

Step One: Listen to Lots of Voices (and take good notes)

Step Two: Get Organized

Step Three: Choose Conversation Partners


Step Four: Write and Write until the Conversation is Finished

Step Five: Revise and Submit

Ironically, when I attended Curriculum Night at Eliana's Middle School this past week, her Music teacher was describing the five steps of the Creative Process. I frantically wrote them down, delighted to find that I had intuitively been following these steps in order to write this chapter: Input, Finding Potential, Reorganization, Production, and Evaluation. First, I had input from hundreds of sources. In my case I switched steps two and three because I had to organize my sources into categories before I could choose conversation partners (i.e. 'find potential') to represent each point of view. I'm happy to report that I found LOTS of potential this summer, tucked away in obscure places like the Shepherd of Hermas, the writings of St. Bonaventure, and the Pesikta Rabbati. It was fun to discover friends all across history! The writing process sent me back to the stacks many times in search of clarification of various points of view. But I'm now nearing the end of the process, and I have 60 pages written, and lots of new friends. What a privilege to join the conversation!

four

Yesterday was an exciting day at our house. Easton turned four! I arrived home from Notre Dame in time to celebrate with the family. Indeed, we have much to celebrate. Our baby is now dressing himself, brushing his own teeth, done with diapers, and riding without training wheels!

A few weeks ago Easton asked Dad to take the training wheels off of his bike. We were a little surprised, but he insisted, so we tried it. On his first try he kept telling Dad to let go. Within 24 hours he could start, stop, and turn, and now he's an old pro. This distinguishes him as the youngest member of our family to reach this milestone. (Danny was 10, Carmen and Eliana were 8, and Emma ... well, after seeing her brother take off on 2 wheels she decided she'd better try it, too. So Emma, at 6-1/2 has followed in her brother's tracks). That means we're a family without diapers and without training wheels.

For those of you who don't have the joy of watching Easton grow up before your very eyes (that's most of you), he is an adorable kid.  He loves to figure out how things work, and often asks for a screwdriver so he can check out the insides of his toys. We'll often find him during his "nap" time with a flashlight all taken apart. He loves to try putting it back together to see if it will still work. It usually does. When given the opportunity, he would almost rather "study" the instruction manual ("map") than play with a toy. He pours through his Thomas the Train catalog, memorizing the names of all the best trains, and carefully examines the instructions for his remote control car set, showing us which parts are missing and how everything works together. Yesterday he got real tools of his very own and two toys that needed batteries installed, including a fire truck and a train (among other things). He was such a happy kid!

Easton's Birthday Lunch at Two Toots Train Restaurant
in Glen Ellyn, Illinois, where your food is delivered to you
 on a model train. A little boy's dream come true!

Trains, tools, musical instruments, books, school, "time with Mom," helping Dad, and hanging out with his sisters are all high on his list of favorite things. And he's high on ours. What a blessing to have been entrusted with Easton! He hasn't lost his baby cheeks, in spite of his other accomplishments, so we'll keep kissing them while we can.

finding our vocation

One of Eliana's 5th grade teachers asked her what she wants to be when she grows up. She gave the same answer that I did for most of my childhood: "a missionary in South America." If she'd had more time, she would have given the longer answer: "I want to be a lawyer working with the International Justice Mission in Ecuador, helping the poor fight for land rights and providing safety and freedom for women who have been raped."

That, my friends, is a great dream for an 11-year-old to have. If she aspired to be a professional basketball player, I might be concerned, because it would be so out of the blue. But this is a dream that fits her -- with a keen ability with languages, a love for travel, and a heightened need for justice -- she's got what it takes.

A clear sense of vocation fuels daily discipline. It gets Eliana up in the mornings to do Rosetta Stone Spanish before she heads off to school. It motivates her to work hard to earn good grades, and then keep working even when no one is watching, like when school's out. Yesterday she received a Presidential Academic award bearing President Obama's signature. Today we spent our first morning of summer vacation (by request) . . . homeschooling. Eliana (11) taught Easton (3) to write lower-case letters while Emma (6) and I worked on cursive. Next came math and vocabulary. What a blessing to have such motivated children!

Teaching is a vocation that took me a while to discover. It wasn't until an education class in college that things clicked for me and I realized what I was born to do (though Mom and Dad knew it all along). Now, more than 16 years later, I'm in the thick of preparation for a teaching ministry. Being a woman in academia brings unique challenges (childcare chief among them), and so I was delighted to discover a newsletter designed with women just like me in mind. The Well, published by InterVarsity, is "a virtual gathering place for graduate and professional women to receive wisdom, care, challenge, and inspiration as they seek to follow Christ in the academic or work world." If you check out their current featured articles, you might be surprised to see that you know at least one of the contributors. I was delighted when they asked if they could publish a recent blog post.

I'm reminded of Paul's words to Timothy: "Do not neglect the spiritual gift within you, which was bestowed on you . . . Take pains with these things; be absorbed in them, so that your progress will be evident to all" (1 Tim 4:14-15). It's one thing to decide to be a lawyer, or a college professor, but quite another thing to become one. Natural talents and spiritual gifts must be nurtured and shaped by daily discipline over a long stretch of time. Nobody wakes up in the morning and finds themselves in an academic career. It's the culmination of thousands of daily choices, the fruit of discipline nurtured by mentors who are a few steps ahead of us on the journey. That's why I'm so glad to have a resource like The Well, a companion for the long pilgrimage of finding and fulfilling my vocation.

How about you? Do you have a passion buried inside you just waiting for the right season to take action? You may not be able to throw yourself into it completely at this stage of your life, but perhaps there are tiny steps that you can start taking now . . . so that when the time comes you'll be ready to roll.

on being a ripe mom . . .

The kids all climbed in bed with us this morning and watched while I opened their carefully-wrapped gifts: a butterfly pin and a tiny clay pot from Emma (age 6), a rock painted to look like a lady bug and a hand print from Easton (age 4), a picture frame for the kids' artwork from Danny, and a card full of coupons from Eliana (age 11). Eliana's coupons had me in stitches. Does she know her mom or what?

• I'll bake you brownies for your study carrel.
• You can force me to help you with your dissertation.
• I will clean up your desk (presumably after I eat the brownies).
• I'll give you a free lecture.
• You can force me to read your "thesus".
• I'll write you a commentary for free! (This, she figured, would be cheaper than buying me one.)

I'm eager to think of a way that Eliana can help with my dissertation. Perhaps helping me pack and move my books into my larger study carrel will be just the thing. I'll get an upgrade later this summer with more shelf and desk space. But meanwhile, my kids are bringing lots of joy to the journey.

Emma wrote an acrostic poem using the letters of my name in honor of Mother's Day.

Creative
Artistic
Ripe (Emma tells me this is much better than being rotten. 
         I trust she does not mean ripe as in "ripe old age" . . .)
Mousy (And this, apparently, means I slowly tell my kids what to do,
             which seems very unlikely, but it does, in fact, start with the letter "m,"
             which is the main thing.)
Encourager
Nice

Another of her "pomes" goes like this:

roses are red
vilot are blue
evreyone loves you
lu! lu! lu!

I'm such a ripe mom, in fact, that this week I took the kids on a spontaneous field trip to Blanchard Hall with Flat Stanley, who was mailed to Emma by a friend in North Carolina.  

 We ate snack together and the kids did their homework, and then we explored all the fun staircases, round rooms, and odd windows in the 140-year-old building that houses Wheaton's top administrators and is named after the school's founder.

I showed them the room where I had my proposal defense last month, and we peeked out of a round window in the main tower to get a view of the Billy Graham Center, where my classes are held. As you can see, we took lots of pictures along the way to document Flat Stanley's historic visit to Blanchard Hall. We'll send pictures back to Emma's friend, Logan.

It's great having places like this just a few steps from our front door, and having children to explore them with me! I am a happy mother indeed.

making sense of Easter

We're all at various stages of trying to make sense of Easter.

Last night was pretty rough on Easton, poor kid. We attended a Good Friday service, and warned Easton (age 3) ahead of time that we were going to church to help us remember when Jesus died for us on the cross. Before he even got to his class he was crying, so we let him sit with us in the service. But the somber tone of the service was too much for him. He just curled up in my lap and sobbed. "I don't like Jesus dying on the cross," he kept saying. "I don't want Jesus to die." He and I spent much of the service in the lobby. Between his bouts with tears I explained more about Jesus' death and why it was sad but good for all of us. He listened intently to Pastor Ray's message through the speakers and picked out words that he could understand (blood, death, shepherd, etc). He told me, "The Lord is my shepherd." But he refused to accept the idea that God planned Jesus' death. He simply likes Jesus too much to be okay with his death. And of all the hundreds of people who were at the service, I'm guessing no one had a clearer picture than he did of the most sorrowful and mysterious day in human history.

Emma and I went on a picnic date to her school playground this morning. We had imagined that it would be cool and quiet, sunny and breezy. What we didn't imagine was a city "Easter" event in the park next door, complete with costumed characters, loud music, and crowds pushing strollers. Emma (age 6) was disappointed not to be able to hear the birds singing, and she confessed to me that she did not like the music because it wasn't worship music (I was inclined to agree ... Madonna's 'Material Girl' was not my idea of Easter music). Later this evening on our way to church (where an Easter Egg hunt was planned for the kids) Emma was still trying to make sense of the way our culture celebrates Easter. Her musings went something like this: "Easter has nothing to do with bunnies or eggs, but eggs are a little like Jesus, because he went off by himself in the garden to pray. Not many people knew about it. He hid away just like the eggs." A valiant effort, I'd say! I'm afraid I can't think of a better way to connect the two, unless we want to talk about eggs as a sign of fertility . . . and God's promises of a lush new creation (?!).

And what does Easter look like from an 11-year-old's vantage point? The kids visited Awana (a kids Bible club) on Wednesday evening, and Eliana came back jazzed about the message the leader gave about the atonement. "It was so deep," she told us. "I mean, I didn't agree with everything he said, but he really made me think." She's so ready for a challenge, and has great theological questions.

Don't we all? Wherever we are in our spiritual journeys, each of us is trying to make sense of Jesus at some level. How can he be both man and God? If he's God, then why does he still need to pray? Was his death inevitable? Did he really rise from the dead? Pastor Ray's message this evening went straight to the heart of the matter. "All of us have doubts at some level," he said. "But salvation doesn't come to us when we finally understand it all. Salvation comes when we grab hold of him." You may doubt whether he can hold you, but you won't know if he can until you throw yourself into his arms.

Christianity doesn't claim to resolve all mysteries on this side of eternity. To some extent, we all need to embrace the mystery, not because Christianity lacks historical reality or absolute truth, but because our ability to assimilate that truth will never be complete in this life.

Faith and mystery—together—drive my study of Scripture. To use the age-old dictum, its a journey of "faith seeking understanding." Following Jesus requires our whole selves, including our minds. God is glorified through the time we spend thinking, pondering, and studying his revealed Word, pressing in for more understanding. But we need not suspend our faith until understanding comes. I believe that God has revealed himself to us in his Word. I believe there is no greater good than knowing Him. I believe He is worthy of my trust and my praise. I believe that Jesus was sent from the Father, lived, died, and rose again. Do I understand how it all works? Not yet. Maybe never in this life. But I keep pressing on to know this great Love. I hope you'll experience his Love for you this Easter and press on to know him more. Embrace the mystery. Throw yourself in his arms.

eleven

Imagine our surprise to discover this evening that our oldest daughter is now too old to order from the kids menu. Where has the time gone?

Not so long ago Danny and I were at our wits end, trying to figure out just what our little 6 1/2 pound bundle wanted so badly that made her scream all night long. That first night home from the hospital was LONG. And now, suddenly, we have an eleven year old.

She folds laundry. She cooks pancakes and bakes cookies. She asks penetrating questions. She makes homemade bread. She dusts the house and vacuums the stairs. She manages all her own homework. She writes all her own thank you notes. She's reading through the Bible on her own. Where has the time gone?

I knew I had worked myself out of a job when I overheard a conversation in the living room the other day. Emma saw some strange markings and wondered what they were. Eliana told her they were Roman numerals. Before I could make it to the living room to seize the teachable moment, Eliana beat me to it. In one minute flat Emma (age 6) had the system down pat, thanks to a big sister who is really good at explaining things.

Eliana and I made our way downtown this weekend to visit the American Girl store. It was "Addy" day, so we brought Addy along for the adventure. And what an adventure it was! We took 3 trains to get there and 3 trains to get back. If you ever decide to brave downtown Chicago on public transportation, be sure to let me know first. I can tell you from experience how not to do it! Eventually we got there and had a lovely time. Eliana treated us to tea at the American Girl restaurant with her birthday money. What fun! Then we set out on the 2+ hour trek home.

I have always dreaded middle school. It was so rough for me, and kids can be so mean. The other night I was lying in bed when this truth dawned on me: she's ready. Eliana is ready for middle school. Changing classes and managing assignments and navigating conflict and finding solid friends. She's confident and mature, smart and fun. Now that we're here I'm not a bit worried. You go girl!

loving college life: part 1

Joy. Momentum. Growth. Ministry. These words capture this semester for me. While last semester I could barely keep my head above water and my heart above panic mode, this semester I've been living the dream.

Deep down I hoped that being on a college campus would offer opportunities to connect with undergraduate students. Wheaton students are bright, talented, passionate, intentional, (twitterpated!) and full of energy. And I love being around them.

(So do my kids. The campus restaurant and the game room are favorite destinations. And so is the gym. Check out Eliana and her friend Gwyn on the climbing wall in the gym!)

A Junior approached me after my talk at missions conference and wondered if we could have lunch. She's headed overseas for the first time and wanted to talk about how to live well in another culture. A Freshman introduced herself to me after an event last week. The girls and I had just participated in "The American Race," an interactive simulation of what it's like to be a minority in the U.S. She appreciated a comment I made during the debriefing session. A Senior and I talked last week about the factors involved in his decision of which seminary to attend (one of his options is Gordon-Conwell). Teaching twice for Dr. Block and giving another presentation last week extended my network even further.

College life is messy. Students say and do some of the most unbelievably immature things sometimes. But the campus leaders (both administration and students) take each opportunity to talk openly about what it means to live in a diverse community and love each other well. The energy around here is palpable. Students are fired up against the global slave trade and excited about sustainable agriculture. A half-dozen teams spent their spring breaks serving needy communities around the country. Students meet to pray for the world and for each other. They tutor refugee children in local schools. A steady stream go overseas to study and reach out.

One of my favorite Christian artists, Sara Groves, was here in January. Her heart for God and for ministry epitomizes the ethos of Wheaton College. She was just as real and vulnerable in person as her music would lead you to expect, and Mom and I thoroughly enjoyed the chance to worship with her and hear her heart. Sara is living proof that you don't have to have "arrived" in order to reach out to others. She sings from the midst of her own struggles. As she says, she's "broken, but grateful." Though she is a big name in music, Sara's travel schedule is filled with benefit concerts for groups like World Vision and International Justice Mission. We don't have to wait until we have a degree in hand, or the counselor says we're healed, or the bank account is in the black to start reaching out. Ministry starts when we realize our own brokenness, recieve the love of God, and begin extending it to others.