Our Baby's in College

I think I'm in shock - that's kind of how it feels. Today at noon we drove away from the Linfield campus after helping Hannah get all 5 suitcases, a small refrigerator and an assortment of "must haves" into her dorm room. I made her bed up with the new linens we purchased a couple of weeks ago - that felt like a good mom thing to do. I truly felt like the momma bird pushing the baby out of the nest as I tried to get us all to leave while she was complaining that she didn't know where to go to meet with the cross country team and we "obviously" didn't want to help her. We did help her connect with her coach and then kissed and hugged her one last time. I'm excited for her, I know she'll do well, I miss her terribly, I'm weeping as I write.

A few minutes ago I wandered into her impeccably neat room and wondered how 18 years could go so fast. I knew it would and told myself it was going fast but still wasn't prepared for the shock of knowing that this would now just be her vacation home. Her, while I'm not somewhere else, home. I saw on a curriculum website that we only have 940 weekends with our children and then it starts counting them down saying, "if your child is in Kindergarten you have 636 left, if your child is in 3rd grade you have 468, 9th grade - 208 and if your child is a senior, you already know how few you have left." I'm right there and it's causing me to be both grateful for the incredible privilege of being her mom and indescribably sad for all the ways that I've let her down.

I wanted to be the perfect mom, but unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately) there is no such being. So I did the best I could and always tried to point her to God. Since the time she was very little I always told her how much her dad and I love her - "tons and tons," and then quickly followed it with "but you know Who loves you even more than we ever could? God! (or Jesus)"
Now as I think of her in her dorm room alone (her roommates won't come for another 10 days since she's running cross country) I take much consolation in knowing that she isn't really alone -she has the Father, Son and Spirit with her.

In this age of nannies and daycares and early preschool I find myself wanting to say to every parent that I meet - do you know what an amazing gift that child is? Do you cherish the moments - even the tough ones? Do you treat every day as an adventure and are you quick to mend the broken places in your relationship? No one does this parenting gig even close to perfectly but I trust that the good outweighs the bad and that "love covers a multitude of sins."
So here I sit, in the dark, feeling the weight of 18 years of responsibility being shifted to a beautiful young woman who stole a big piece of my heart and is now walking around with it - outside of my body. Here's to you, Hannah Ruth Greider, have a fabulous first year of college.

Back to Africa

Africa, the place where I bump into myself, my culture, my agenda and then I have two choices: to force my way or to let go and see how things develop. I'm so glad that I can see the improvement from my first journey yet even so, I'm still wrestling with my expectations.

Yesterday we went to New Destiny for the first time to visit with the widows and orphans who have banded together in order to sew, make beads and garden as a cooperative. This is the group that we brought the first sewing machine to and it was great joy to see their new building with 15 sewing machines! I was eager to jump in and help them with their sewing projects and so promptly planted myself in front of one of the machines. Without an interpreter, I began to find out the Kinyarwandan names for needle, thread, bobbin, etc and to try and teach them the english words - that was a lot of fun! However, when I began to actually use the machine, I discovered that this is a "horse of a different color." After breaking a couple needles, struggling to get the tension right and trying to get the foot treadle to cooperate, I was forced to deal with the reality of sewing in Rwanda. I had an ideal in my head but I ran smack dab into Rwandan reality. I had visions of us efficiently diving into the project of shopping bags, perhaps with me leading the way. What I discovered is that sewing in a dark, stuffy room with uncooperative machines is hard work.

The garden was even more overwhelming to me - not the neat, tidy rows of vegetables that I'm accustomed to but rather fields of weeds and plants growing together in disarray. I'm not quite sure if this needs to be but I did acknowledge that working in the African heat with primitive tools is grueling.

So today we went back to New Destiny and I was determined to try a new approach. Learning how to sew from them and getting a real feel for what it's like to produce something in their sewing room. What happened instead is that we got a late arrival after wandering the market with Steven in search of a new place to house their operations. When we got there, they were not prepared to sew because they had decided to work on beads instead. After adjusting my expectations, once again, I sat and talked with them about their machines: what they need, how many were inoperable (most!) and how simple it would be to get them going again. I also got to hand out the sewing supplies that had been sent from Betty Ann and that was such a delight.

So, adjusting my expectations has been, once again, the constant challenge as I learn to unplug, relax, let go and take cues from my Rwandan friends. I am definitely back in Rwanda.

New Starts and Fits

New job, new attitude, new calling, new family room and a renewal of me. But I'm still in the midst of it all and not finished with any of it. The middle ground where being stuck is a huge temptation. And that's where I'm at. The already and the not yet - the place where life happens and faith is the only thing that keeps me moving forward.

Snowboarding - Dude

I've thought about learning to snowboard, even joked about it with my sister-in-law, Heidi. Yesterday I took the plunge and hit the slopes (literally). We decided to do something a little different for our last day of mid-winter break and took the kids to Stevens Pass for their first attempt at "sliding (slang for both skiing and snowboarding). The girls and Hallack wanted to ski but Ben wanted to snowboard and at first I was just going to hang out in the lodge. After I thought about it, I decided that it wouldn't be fair to Ben to send him out alone on a board and here was my chance to try it as well.

Not knowing how difficult it would be to learn, Ben and I googled snowboard lessons and found several videos, which we watched. The best piece of advice we got was to wear padding so both of us donned some knee pads but were at a loss as to how to pad our behinds. In retrospect, I wish I'd taken the padding part a little more seriously and was really grateful for the kneepads!
Our first stop was at Bothell Ski and Bike to rent gear and from there, we headed out highway 2 toward the pass. It was a gorgeous early spring day with a noticeable lack of snow until right before Stevens. We found parking, carefully put on all our layers and gingerly hiked our way through the icy lot to the lodge. Purchasing our tickets, looking over the map to find the bunny hill, we sat down on the snow just outside the lodge to put on our boards. It was just now 3pm and our evening lift tickets were operational so....time to get going. Here's where Ben and I encountered our first difficulty - putting on our boards and standing up. To the amusement of at least one bystander, I made a comment about "the blind leading the blind." I finally came to the conclusion that we needed to walk to the starter hill and go from there. Saying goodbye to Hallack and the girls, we trudged off to the base of the easiest hill and observed toddlers riding up the "magic carpet" (a motorized rubber belt that takes you up the hill.) "Ah," I thought, "so much better than the old rope tow!" We did manage to figure how to use the magic carpet on our own, as well as how to flip our boards over and stand, ready to go down the hill. Perfect. Ben even made it down the hill several times without falling but I was determined to learn how to turn so that I'd have some measure of control. So I fell. And fell again. Forward, backwards, on my butt, on my hands, laughing, trying not to think about how this would feel tomorrow.... Until finally (after an hour) I came to the conclusion that we were not going to learn how to do this on our own. No phone, no car keys, no wallet, no ID, armed only with my memorized credit card number, expiration date and security code, I headed into the lesson hut to beg help from the nice ski school people.

This turned out to be my best decision of the day. From here it mostly gets better. I signed us up for a two hour coaching with the school's best instructor - Ken Bailey. Ken is 48 and a recent convert from skiing to boarding himself. Ken was in the corporate world and seven years ago decided he'd had enough and now works for Stevens in a variety of capacities. He understands people and started off by finding out about us. I really liked how he took us through everything: clothing, equipment (or tools as he called them), body mechanics and then began teaching us how to stand, balance and finally move on the boards.

When we finally took our first ride up the "magic carpet" it was 5:30 and the sun had set behind the towering mountains around us. That meant that the temperature dropped dramatically and the previously slushy snow turned to ice with a dusting of loose snow on top. That proved to be my undoing. My first foray down the gentle slope was fine, as was the second and my thought was "hey, I might actually get this!" Ben was doing great - his natural balance and feerlessness were a good combination. My tendency to overthink things got me into trouble on my third trip down. I quit feeling the ride and as I got some momentum, fear took over and I did all the things I wasn't supposed to do. I lost control, leaned back instead of forward, began flapping my arms, took my weight off the center of the board and transferred it to my hind end so, guess where I landed? That's right, on the buttocks, on the ice, hard. Not content with that injury to my body (not to mention my ego), I finished with a nice whiplash of my head to the ice as well. Ah ha, now I know why a helmet is a good idea - even on the bunny hill!

Ken got to me quickly and, with much concern in his eyes, began to ask me simple questions like the day, date and where the heck was I? When I answered all correctly he switched to a more encouraging tone and told me I was doing great but then asked if I would like a break for a few minutes? Since my head was pounding and the pain from my derrier was making it difficult to sit or even think about standing, I agreed. If the truth must be told (and it must) I was seriously thinking that this would be the end of sliding for me. Never being a quitter, I decided that I had to "get back on the horse" or, in this case, the magic carpet. So after a few minutes, I crept over to the rubber belt and up the hill I went. From here until the end of the lesson at 6:30, I managed to stay on my feet, learn how to control the board (sort of) and traverse the hill. Ben got a little extra coaching at the end while I went off to practice a bit by myself. I did take a couple more spills but I managed to not permanently damage my tailbone. For which I'm eternally grateful.

At home, I took Ken's advice and loaded up on the Ibuprofen as well as took a relaxing bath. I woke up stiff and sore today but much, much, much less than I had anticipated. I'm sitting a bit more gingerly, walking a bit more slowly but am thinking about what I'll do differently next time. Really - there will be a next time but there will also be a lot more padding and a helmet.

Going Under Construction

Yesterday I had a fateful meeting - with Mark Johnson the handyman. We walked and talked through all what it will take to transform our family room to the welcoming place of hospitality that I envision it to be. I am almost beyond words in my delight that this is actually going to happen. I have hoped, planned, despaired, been resigned, been renewed and gotten stuck so many times that I can hardly believe it's finally going to happen. Today the kids and I are going to go to IKEA to look at some cabinets and then I'm going to visit the door store as well as the neighborhood flooring store.

What finally convinced me, gave me the "umph" and the courage to proceed, you ask? The deep sense that this is something God is calling me to do. To step beyond my fears, inadequacies, doubt and truly believe that a new family room will not only bless me or our family but will bless our community as well. This morning I was envisioning new ways to use our home as a place of healing and restoration. Just as God has been restoring and healing me, I know He can and will use our new freedom to bless others. I'm eager to begin; delighted with the prospects and confident in God's provision. He's a wonderful, heavenly Daddy who loves to give good gifts to His children. Thank You, Daddy! And so it begins....

Van Asselt

The week before Christmas break and the week following were spent at a school on Beacon Hill. I went there to help with a little boy who was out of control - throwing temper tantrums, screaming, running away and generally disrupting any attempts toward teaching the other 8 children in their special education kindergarten class. I walked in and discovered that the teacher was someone who had worked for me at Lake City. She and the other instructional aid had been working hard at bringing structure and boundaries to this sweet little class. As the story unfolded for me, I learned that they had been through two other teachers and were determined to make this new team work.

So I came in with Miss Pearl and offered my services in any way I could. Thus began a happy relationship with a classroom that has touched my heart. I left yesterday so very grateful for the opportunity to let my deep joy answer a need.

Not to say that every moment was a delight - far from it. I had to forge bonds with each of the kids and learn how to curtail the temper tantrums of the little boy who was at the center of the maelstorm. There were times when I was counting the minutes I had left but there were also times when I could see that my presence was making a difference. In the end I could tell that a new norm had been established and I'm confident they can carry on without me. What I've discovered in my three months in the Seattle school district is that using my puppets helps me to forge bonds much more quickly than I could without them. Miss Pearl, with her southern accent and pristine manners can calm a rowdy Kindergarten class faster than anything else I've ever seen. She asks for behavior that it would take me days to cultivate and she does it in such a loving and gentle way. I appreciate this so much because I know that many of these children are used to screaming and yelling (from their parents) in order to get them to listen.

I don't know where this adventure in substitute para-professionalism and puppetry is leading but I'm confident that I'm learning, growing and serving. And that can't be all bad or bad at all.