Wednesday, November 30, 2011

The awkward things that will happen to you


Dear Reader,
There are things that will happen to you. I don't mean to alarm you, but unless you are the prima ballerina for the Russian Ballet, you will probably have awkward things spill into your lap and stain your dress pants. That should ease your apprehensions a little, knowing that these madcaps are common to the general populace. In fact, you've probably already experienced some or all of these. Hopefully, you have the presence of mind and mastery of wit to turn them into fantastic moments of comedy, after which you can bow and sign autographs. And now, for the list, not in any particular order.

1. Losing your skirt/shorts in public.
For an instant, you feel that free as a toddler in a backyard wading pool feeling. Quickly enough, that happy ancient memory is replaced by the sinking of the stomach in the realization that you have lost your skirt. Whether it's been tucked into your undies after a bathroom break or you happened to be running across campus and the elastic wasn't in as great of shape as you thought, you've managed to make a spectacle of yourself. This is unfortunate, but probably won't ruin your career unless you're a politician or you happen to have national secrets tattooed to your upper hamstring.

2. Spilling things.
Considering that you spend most of your first years doing this, it's remarkable that you even expect to go through adulthood without doing it. Sometimes it happens on airplanes, which is OK unless you're sandwiched between people who are asleep. Sometimes it happens in restaurants. If you're wearing white and you think it's a good idea to order spaghetti because it's cheap, just remember what it will cost you in stain remover to get that sauce out. You might not even be the clumsy one, but watch out for waitresses. Most of them are masters of balance, but there is the occasional clutz.

3. People who are bad at having normal conversations.
You know these people, you might even be one yourself. They just aren't great at making small talk. Their sense of timing is slightly left of true North, or they feel frustratingly ingenuine if they talk about things besides politics and economics or the latest development in technology. Having conversations with these people is not for the faint of heart, but someone has got to take the time to model normalcy for these poor unfortunate souls.

4. Dodging strangers.
This happens to me a lot. I'm in an airport or a busy store or on the sidewalk and someone is walking towards me. Somehow, in a moment of body language illiteracy, I dodge the wrong way, right myself, and then walk to the other side, but by then they've readjusted and we look like we're doing some tribal jungle dance in the middle of the street trying to get around each other.

5. Kissing.
It is likely that you know this just from watching romantic comedies. I don't fully endorse watching them, but I have been known to indulge now and then. There can be lots of potentially awkward things about kissing, but one of the notable ones is noses. It's important to tilt the right direction or else you're going to knock noses and the romantic sentimentality of the moment will be thwarted. It's also important not to go smushing people's noses so they can't breathe. Be considerate. Try to do some thinking while your heart is racing and your eyes are sparkling.

6. Being a third party to an untimely comment.
Sometimes watching the awkwardness is just as bad or worse as being involved in it yourself. For example, if you're talking with two people and one person says something dreadful like, "People with green ears are imbeciles. I don't know how they function without a brain." without knowing that the other person has green ears. Oh dear. You are privy to information that not everyone has. There's nothing you can say to undo the comment, so the best thing is usually to steer the conversation to something pleasant like spice cake or cows.

7. Receiving Tiffany rings and giving Target ones.
In the spirit of Christmas, my last example of awkward situations you will find yourself in is the realm of gift giving. You have friends (I hope) and each of these friends has a different idea about gifts. Some love to give gifts at any and all occasions, while others aren't into gifting. You, by logical reasoning, fall somewhere in between these two spectrum ends. Awkward things can happen when friends live at different ends of the spectrum. You might meet a friend to exchange Christmas gifts and you're handed a Tiffany blue box a fabulous ring in it, but all you have to give is the Target one you found last week on sale. Not good, folks, not good.

This post is dedicated to the girl who walked in front of me this afternoon, whose awkward story can be found in my previous post.

LMS




Identities, library adventures and walkward moments...

Do you ever look at yourself in the mirror and think "Um, who are you, and what are you doing in my mirror space?!" Maybe it's just where I am in life and in the world, but sometimes I just feel like a million different people.

Today my outfit consists of Adidas socks, tennis shoes, jeans (that are wet on the cuffs because the weather is abominably contrary and wet), my OBU intramural softball t-shirt, a side ponytail and a trucker hat that is sitting on my head crooked and backwards, oh and my nails are currently Sally Hansen "#250 Lightening". Then there's my slightly hipster slouchy cardi with big dramatic sunglasses look, my tropical wear bold prints and Costa Rican earrings from Liz look, and the black sundress with the narrow belt and pearls look. I also have my outdoorsy hiker chic in Chacos and diva in heels and wide leg trouser looks. I mean… WHAT? Who do you think you are?

It doesn’t stop there. Oh no. Even with my friends I'm different people. My best friend, Zanna, told me once that I'm a chameleon, and I just adapt to whoever I'm with. If I'm with the ranch cousins, I'm Cowgirl Sunshine. If I'm with the Compass crew, I'm Outdoor Sunshine. If it's Han - Dance Party Sunshine, Liz - Change the World Sunshine, SG - Tea and Scones Sunshine, Katie - Theatrical Sunshine, Rach - Coffee Time Chat Sunshine, Chez - Slightly Hippie Spontaneous Sunshine, Princess Punkin - Politics and Fashion Sunshine… you'd think I was Barbie or Baskin Robins ice cream or something.

Granted, there are some things that don't change. I'll tell you I love Jesus and cows and dancing whether I'm in a little black dress or having a mud war… but do I need to get a life? Are there rules about these things? Once again, I'm playing in the adult league and no one has handed me the rule book! Maybe that should be my next writing project if one doesn't exist already - writing a rule book for surviving in the real world.

Today I went to the library with SG. We love the library. It's our second home. I went to get a book and SG went to study. Now, when I say get a book it sounds simple. There are books everywhere, so you should just be able to pick one off the shelf and walk out the door. Mission accomplished. As it turns out, it's such a difficult task! After you've read the likes of Lewis and Lenski and Dickens and Austen, there's no shortage of high standards. I want a book that will woo me, bring me flowers, tell me the truth and be so enthralling that I hate it for making me want to spend all my time with it.

I wandered through the aisles aimlessly, reading the back of a book here, checking the title of a classic there, and always looking for cool covers. I'm such a sucker for cover designs. I have a hard time reading a book if I don't like the cover. Just as soon as I'd find an interesting one, I'd find that it was about some person having an affair or being abused by someone or something. Can I just have a good novel without all the gory sex details please and thank you? I walked home with a 400 page biography of Martin Luther. I'm not entirely satisfied, but it's won awards, so we'll see how we go.

On my walk home, one of those awkward things in life happened. You know how there's an unwritten list of awkward things in life? Well, this is one of them. I was walking up the hill and a girl crossed from the other side of the street to my side, walking the same direction as me. Our paces aligned and I was walking a couple yards behind her. AWKWARD WALKWARD! What are you supposed to do? Just walk slower? Walk faster and pass her? Walk faster and then slow down when you get to beside her and strike up a conversation about why she's carrying yellow wrapping paper? Being ambitious and competitive, I went for option 2… AND FAILED! I sped up to the point where we were walking beside each other, but then she sped up a little and the hill was getting steeper by the stride, so I relinquished my lead and fell back, turning to option 1. Ohhhhh awkward things in life. I think I'll write a blog post about that.

Much love,

LMS




Monday, November 28, 2011

The first Christmas carol the angels did sing...


To say that I love Christmas would be so far from the truth as to nearly be a lie. It would be like saying LA is near to New York. Well, it would be a truth if you compare the distance to Australia, but it still hardly captures the real truth. To say that I sing, breathe and long for Christmas from December 26 - December 24 is more accurate. On a sunny day in July, it is not unlikely that I will be singing The First Noel or O, Holy Night.

Sometimes I think of Christmas carols in modern language and chortle with mirth…

The firrrrst Christmas carol, the angels did sing was to keep the shepherds from freaking out in their pastures with their sheep on that nasty cold night. Christmas carol, Christmas carol, Christmas carol, Christmas carol, born is the King of Israel.

Hey, pay attention! The messenger variety of angels sing, Honor to the newborn King, peace on earth and a gentle kind of mercy, God and sinners can experience harmony again. Nations, get on your feet and get excited, get in on this praise fest that's going on with the angels and let everyone know that Christ the King is born in Bethlehem!

I really doubt that this will be my only Christmas post. Like Advent, there will probably be a lead up to Christmas. I'm not trying to compare the importance of my blogging with Advent… I'm just saying you will hear about Christmas more than once, if I have anything to do with it.

Also, I've been specially commissioned this year to write the family Christmas letter. This is a big deal. This is also a hard deal. I'm not really sure why I volunteered for the gig in the first place. I think I got a little overeager and excited about Christmas and acted impulsively. Mom asked who wanted it, and I won the bid. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. How in the world am I supposed to do this (competitive to the core)? My dad is a writer, my mom has the organizational prowess and longstanding experience, my brothers have comedy dripping from their fingertips. This is a high stakes test of my writing skills, and I haven't even been in the same state, much less the same country as my family for most of the year.

This Christmas post is going to end up being a mishmash (sidenote: mishmash is Arabic for apricot) of things because I don't even know where to start with a Christmas post. I could make a list of things I love about Christmas or things I want to do over Christmas break, or my Christmas list, or reasons that people hate Christmas. Shoot, I could just make a list of Christmas blog post ideas.

Most important things:
Christmas is awesome (not as awesome as Easter, but pretty darn close and Christmas has better songs)
I'M COMING HOME FOR CHRISTMAS IN 17 DAYS
Sometimes people hate Christmas for reasons that don't have to do with real Christmas
I'M COMING HOME FOR CHRISTMAS IN 17 DAYS
You don't have to buy me a present, just call and talk to me on the phone, but when we run out of things to talk about, please make up a reason why you have to go because talking about nothing is awkward
I'M COMING HOME FOR CHRISTMAS IN 17 DAYS
Remember to floss during the Christmas season because fudge and candy canes can give you cavities

I'm abandoning this list because it's turning into nonsense because my excitement for Christmas has rendered me disorientedly ecstatic.

Yours truly,

Little Miss Sunshine

PS I apologize for the flurry of posts, refer to Confession 36 for an explanation of this phenomenon.


Yelling at People


I love to yell.

My friends don't like this about me, but thankfully, they haven't disowned me yet for it. I just love to yell. Maybe I feel it communicates my excited fervor more satisfactorily than if I just talk in a regular old volume. Because I'm a well-integrated member of society, I realize that cultural propriety severely limits the occasions when it is appropriate for me to yell. I have never quite forgiven culture for this. Yelling at sporting events is OK, and yelling across distances is OK if you're outside, and yelling if there's an emergency is OK. Do you realize how limiting this is? How absolutely stifled I feel? Ugh.

If I could yell at will, I would probably yell about most things. I would yell about happy things…

HAPPY BIRTHDAY! I AM SO GLAD WE'RE FRIENDS!
I JUST LOVE COWS, ISN'T THAT THE MOST BEAUTIFUL MILK COW YOU'VE EVER SEEN?!

I would yell sad things…

I HATE IT WHEN PEOPLE BREAK THEIR PROMISES!
I’M SO SORRY YOU'RE SICK!

I would yell mad things…

I FORGOT THAT ASSIGNMENT!
DON'T TALK TO ME LIKE THAT!

For the sake of the rest of the world, it's probably a good thing that cultural norms have curbed my volume and verbiage. If I didn't think it would hurt people's feelings, sometimes I would yell at them that they're being absolutely ridiculous. This usually happens when I'm talking with people who should know better but don't seem to, like people who say they follow Jesus but do really immature things, or people who sneer ad hominem arguments that are demeaning and illogical. Instead of yelling at people, I just blog. You don't know who I'm talking about, and most of the time I'm just generalizing anyway.

I was talking to SG about it the other day. A situation happened and a person did something dumb that they knew was dumb. I wasn't there, but I yelled afterwards to make up for my absence, which was convenient because the person wasn't there to witness my outburst. After I declared her a silly, unprincipled human, I realized what a dodobird I was being. How is it that I claim to know and love the grace of Jesus but fail so often to extend that grace to others? That's not an excuse for letting people do dumb things, but maybe there is something to that gentle, quiet restorative spirit.

As of now, I haven't yelled anything at anyone in anger, but I'm still working on decreasing my happy yelling. From what I can tell, sometimes it's just annoying, and I dread and loathe the idea of being annoying. Maybe I'll just buy a field for yelling. Then I can just shout away all kinds of things and be the calmest, collected girl there ever was when I have to be. Guess I'd better start saving for a field or something.

LMS

Running Around Headless


Look carefully then how you walk, not as unwise but as wise, making the best use of the time, because the days are evil. Therefore do not be foolish, but understand what the will of the Lord is. Eph. 5:15-17

Sometimes I feel like I'm running around like a chicken without a head. (It's really kind of ridiculous to butcher chickens and let them run around. It's much more efficient and tidy to tie them upside down to a fence pole before you decapitate them.) Today, in particular, was busy. We started the morning with breakfast with Bill (a Monday morning ritual), walked down to the pre-school playgroup, walked up to the house to lunch, rode our bikes to the school for Bible study, caught a ride to cut out art projects for a friend, dressed for work, grabbed a nectarine on my way out the door and walked back down the hill to serve tacos.

This morning, I heard a mom at playgroup comment about how she always feels busy but doesn't really know what she's busy with, but that it's ok because at least she's busy.

Do you ever hear things or see things and think "NOOOOOOOO!"

Thankfully, I didn't say that. How easy is it to spend your life buying groceries, paying bills, running errands, without actually living in a direction? Let's practice a little self-awareness here. All of the things you're doing, you can think about too. At the restaurant, for example, I could just do. I could take plates, take orders, take money, sweep, wipe down tables, sounds like what I'm being paid to do, but it would sort of be running around headless. It would be so much more profitable if I kept tabs on what supplies needed re-stocking, made fruit mixes in my spare time, and tried to make my trips to and from the kitchen the most efficient possible. I could figure out the best way to keep multiple food orders organized in my head without using pen and paper. I could hone my restaurant intuition and practice some self-reflection on how I could improve my customer service skills.

I'm sure, as a mom to a three year old, this woman does plenty of changing diapers, wiping noses, and trying to keep up with household things. I'm not downing her for being busy or seeing life as a blur, but I wanted to tell her not to let her life just go. Before she knows it, Jay is going to be 10 and his values and intellect are going to be well on their way to being fully formed. If she doesn't "take life by the horns" (thank you, Chevy), she might get to the end of these years and find some regrets. As a very goal oriented person, I think everyone should have purpose statements for things. This might be a little silly, but I feel like it keeps expectations organized and minimizes disappointment and miscommunication…

Purpose statement for going out to dinner: try new food, don't feel stuffed when you walk out the door

Purpose statement for going to the store: buy apricot jam, red bell peppers and coffee

Purpose statement for my next road trip: stay alive, stay within the budget, have a blast

Purpose statement for parenting a 3 year old: teach him French, teach him to throw a baseball, teach him that Jesus loves him

SG and I could get really busy saying yes to every offer we get. Let me tell you, we've had some great offers - come spend the night outside for a homeless fundraiser, come hang out with youth and eat icecream, come see this art gallery… and we could just run around saying yes to things without thinking about them, but where would that get us? Tired and having accomplished a lot of random things. We have had to have several conversations, and continue to, about how we use our time in Australia. What is it that God has gifted us in? What has He put us in Australia to do? Are the things we're doing things that are making Jesus bigger and us smaller? These are just some of the questions we have to ask as we figure out how in the world we are supposed to "walk as wise" chicks in a very busy place.

Love from a busy and happy LMS

Saturday, November 26, 2011

That thing that makes your blood pump

I spent most of the day stuck in a room filling out paperwork and looking outside where the rain was coming down from a very leaky sky.  Sounds like the makings of misery, but it was great instead.  It was great because it was a training session for CRE that SG and I attended.  CRE is short for Christian Religious Education and it's a program in Australian public schools, which sounds quite foreign to this American ex-education major.  Christian religion?  In public schools?  Believe it.

They stopped the program a few years back but reinstated it when they realized the kids they were graduating were missing some of the values that CRE used to instill in them.  The program works like this.  If there are trained teachers available, the school is supposed to allow them to have a CRE program in the normal school day.  The kids can opt out of the class if their parents send a note, so it's not compulsory.

As CRE teachers, we get to teach the Bible and character lessons, but no preachy converting allowed.  That's fine by me because most people don't like that anyway.  I am SO excited to be back in the classroom.  I realized this today when our training manual had things like Maslow's hierarchy of needs, learning styles, and lesson plans in it.

I love being in the classroom.  It's that thing that makes my blood pump, besides that heart/electromagnetic stuff.  Combine that with my love for God's Word and boyoooo, lookout, rambunctious teacher coming your way.  I mean, it shrinks under the shadow of my love for Christmas and cows, but being in the classroom is definitely a highlight of my life.

Hopefully, SG and I will get placed at the elementary school that is closest to the church, which is central to everything we do.  Excited excited excited.  Did I mention I'm really excited to be in the classroom again?  I spent four years getting ready to be in a classroom and then I up and went to Australia.  Here's my chance at practicing classroom management, differentiated instruction, and all that other teachery mumbo jumbo.  It makes me want to my school supplies and teacher bags and dry erase markers.  Mmmm classroom.

If everything works out, we'll teach starting next semester, which basically begins in March, until the end of June.  They seem to have a great curriculum that's full of ideas and resources and covers the Bible in a way that gives kids a sense of chronology.  AH.  Can't wait.

Love,
LMS

Thursday, November 24, 2011

Two Pilgrims, Five Indians


It was with some misgivings that I boarded that great airship for a land called Australia. I didn't know what sort of place I would find it to be, or the people I would meet, but that wasn't enough to stop me. When I arrived with my friend, SG, we found a hospitable group of natives eager to meet us and know our names. They taught us the language and showed us around the settlements. They shared their customs, their dinners and their homes with us.

Yesterday, we gave thanks. For these kind new friends and a place to stay, we Pilgrims gave thanks. And this is how we did it…

Tuesday night, we made a menu. Yes, I know Thanksgiving dinner was the next day, but you have to do what you have to do. Wednesday around 11, we went to the store. I'm not a mom yet, so I can still do some things last minute. The first item of business was the turkey. Australians don't really eat turkey, so this was a bit of a problem. Our choices were pre-cooked whole turkey (WEIRD!) or frozen turkey breast that was in a mysterious loaf pan box (FRIGHTENING!). We went with the mystery box, hoping it would be nothing like turkey meatloaf. Next we divided to conquer - apples, onions, sweet potatoes, green beans, bread, all of that. SG was armed with her detailed list that included weights and measures for each recipes. I was armed with… well, let's just say I was a little less prepared but hoping that my previous Thanksgiving memories would steer me in the right direction.

Twice I enlisted the help of the trusty assistant to the foreigner - the shelf stocker. He helped me find a pie crust, which was called a flan form? He also helped me not find cranberries, as they don't carry frozen ones, and the fresh weren't in season. Don't take your local grocery stores for granted, at least you can get cranberries at Thanksgiving.

After we paid for our bounty, we stuffed and loaded the things that couldn't be damaged into my backpack and trekked up the hill. There, we recharged with some lunch and made a list of tasks, including break options that included watching Hannah and Sam's wedding video and a dance party… little did we know that neither of those would get done.

We chopped, minced, diced, sliced, massaged, snipped, blanched, and engaged in a lot of other culinary verbs all afternoon. In my mind, we'd do some prep work, then take a nap, wake up and pop everything in the oven. Wrong. By the time we were done prepping, it was time to put things in! We had roses for centerpieces and awesome place cards, courtesy of SG's awesome Thanksgiving stickers. The guests arrived, we hastily changed into party clothes, swept up our hair and touched up the mascara.

Midway through the turkey cooking, we realized it called for an extra half hour of baking, on top of what we'd scheduled, so we extended our dinner time a little, and were only 37 minutes late in the end. Thankfully, the turkey was done, and didn't look like turkey meatloaf. We feasted on herbed turkey breast, sweet potato casserole with marshmallows, sauteed green beans with bacon and garlic, dressing, and finally pumpkin pie with home made whipped cream.

Our guests, which included our host parents, their son in law and grandson, and our friend Bill, who comes to breakfast every Monday at 8am, all thought the flavors different from what they were used to. The sweet potatoes were a mystery to them, and the sweet tea and pumpkin pie were nearly inconceivable (or incontheivable if you're a Princess Bride fan). They all left feeling full and happy (we hope). There was no football, but there were plenty of family stories and gales of laughter. We even had some leftovers for lunch today!

As all the guests were leaving, I shouted at SG, who was two feet to my left. She looked a bit startled as that volume in normal people is usually used to indicate a fire or other natural disaster. It all came clear in that moment, and I loudly and excitedly explained to her that this really was the first Thanksgiving! We Pilgrims had come to a strange land and had been greeted by local Indians who kindly guided us through the rhythms of life in this new place. What a great way to celebrate in the true spirit of Thanksgiving!!

We found hosting Thanksgiving dinner to be quite an endeavor, but well worth it for the sake of our wonderful Indian friends.

For all these things, we give thanks,

Little Miss Sunshine

Only, Solely, Alone

It is a desolate place. The earth is sun baked from scorching summers and stained a rusty red from the blood that has often fallen there. Bits of metal and rubbish litter the ground, the resting place of many tears. You would be a fool to kneel there, the place where human carnage has sullied what was once christened "and behold, it was very good". There are no prayer shawls, plaques or icons here. Two beams of wood and a handful of nails stand tall. It is a place of bereavement. There is no alternate route, no options. You wish for "it will be OK" and "don't worry about it" and "it's only a religious symbol" but there is only a deep and penetrating silence. The slightest breath grates deafeningly on your ears.

This is a place that knows things. There is no crevice of your heart that is unscrutinized, no thought unnoticed. There is no worship band, no bulletin, no offering plates. Here only two things exist, you and those two beams of wood, heavy, bloody beams of wood. It is enough. God's death is sufficient. Not God's death plus outreach programs. Not God's death plus prayer and fasting. God saves sinners. It is enough.

There is a gripping power in the paradox of the Gospel. The thing you most desperately desire is free. It cannot be earned or achieved, only accepted.

Follow me. Seek first the kingdom, my kingdom, and the rest will take care of itself. Don't seek first social justice. Don't seek first Bible translation. Don't seek first food pantries. Seek me and you will find me, and you'll get the rest thrown in. It is no surprise that the rich young man found the cost of the Gospel too high. The gift is free for receiving, but receiving it will cost you everything. And in that loss, you will find the greatest gain.

If we disregard the power of "And there is salvation in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given among men by which we must be saved." we must resort to programs and universalism to entertain the people who warm our pews. Entertain? Has church become merely a pageant where people are brought into conversation but never conversion, and spirituality masquerades as faith? Let it not be so.

Let us not forget that place of death from which life springs, the spiritual warring that brought us peace, the wounding that resulted in healing for any who would receive it. All our attempts at religion and graceful goodness pale in comparison. What is our petty offering to charity compared with these bloody beams? Here, a whole life was offered. Can we truly stand in this desolate place thinking we have done any good? These towering splintery posts slowly strip away illusions of personal moral grandeur like wind erodes the soil, until there's nothing left of you but you.

Only you stand before the cross. Gone are your greatest achievements, your claims to fame. You cannot bring friends to stand with you, or loved ones to hold your hand. You are alone in this place, but it doesn't leave you alone for long.   It takes all you clung to and fills you with new life. The love that drove the nails now fills you.  Only now can you begin to be who you were always meant to be.     

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Flat Stanley and I Go to Melbourne

You know those situations where you could say no, but you say yes instead?  Those situations that sound crazy and are crazy but you made the choices that got you there?  I think I'm in one of those.

Clocks in houses all over this time zone have recently chimed seven in the morning.  Where do I find myself on this newly minted Tuesday morning?  A train, and not just any train - a train I ran for and didn't look to see which one it was!  All trains go to Melbourne, right?  This is what I reasoned as I jogged after the woman from my early morning bus.

Rest assured, dear reader, it was the right train.  being on the train this morning reminds me of butterflies that get on and off subways and hat purchases that will likely turn out to be a mistake.  This morning I am headed to the city to... well, I'm not quite sure yet.  What I do know is I have Flat Stanley tucked safely in my bag and we're going on an adventure.  I packed my bag the night before so in the morning all I had to do was roll out of bed, slide into my jeans and a plaid and tighten down my Chaco straps.  I have my favorite Melbourne map, notebook, Bible, Stanley the traveling flat kid, and of course a wallet and an apple.  (They have beeeautiful pink Lady apples in this country.)  When in doubt, always pack a wallet and an apple.  I was going to eat it on the train, but now I'm knee to knee and hip to hip with three middle aged women and they might mind the crunching.  Back to inventory.  Left back pocket holds my train ticket, right front pocket is the usual chapstick and packet knife and front left is a cough drop and five dollar note.

Here's why this could possibly be a terrible idea.  I'm sick.  Any mother within earshot of my wracking hacking cough would make me stay in bed and give me an IV of soup and herbal tea.  But i packed tissues and a cough drop instead.  Also, tonight, our host parents are hosting a BBQ for some of the people staying in their short term flats.  There will be salad making and cole slawing and general entertaining to do.  Oh yeah, and tomorrow, we host Thanksgiving for 7.  Have we done so much as made a menu?  No.  As you can see, there are carious reasons why this could be a terrible idea.  General foreboding aside, I'm reasonably optimistic that this could turn out alright.



Now arriving in South Yarra, says the recorded voice of the train.  I'm back on the train.  It's 10:40, but it feels like 2 in hte afternoon because I just power walked half of the city.  I am pleased to report, this was not a disaster.  Flat Stanley and I toured the east half of the city after we disembarked at Flinders Street Station.

Let me tell you - Prince of Egypt is a great soundtrack for busy train stations.  i struck out confidently, not knowing where I was going (as is my custom) and went north on Spring St. where I detoured through the Treasury Gardens and saw some Occupying of Melbourne happening.  Then there was the Old Treasury building, Parliament Gardens and the detour on Albert Street to St. Patrick's magnificent Cathedral where I met the lady from Colorado who offered to take a picture of Stan and I.  Then she told me about coming here for her daughter's wedding [don't worry yet, mom], and her trip to a village in Herzegovina where there are aberrations of the blessed mother, which, from what I gathered, means the whole town can feel Mary's presence.  I said, yeah, it's great that we have God's presence with us in the Holy Spirit.  Haha. Divine appointments.

Stanley and I also went through Chinatown and Koorong, the local Christian bookstore before going up to the Queen Victoria Market.  There was a lot to see, but I just bought a mango and a chocolate chip brioche.  I power walked out of there (in the wrong direction), asked for Flinders Station and about faced.

I just had time to job (again) and make it on the train.  i don't remember what to do at the bus stop because I've only done that part once, and that was with SG and written directions.  Oh well, I'll figure something out.  Hopefully, with what's let of my lovely day off, SG and I can plan a Christmas program, plan Thanksgiving and go to the beach before the dinner guests arrive!

Much love,

LMS 

Sunday, November 20, 2011

When a conservative girl gets asked to speak in church...


So... our dear Pastor John had a weekend off, this weekend and he asked if SG and I would give a reflection/sermonette/message on the passage of the week.  Being raised in Baptist and community churches, we didn't know what to think about being women speaking from the front of the sanctuary.  I confess, I still don't know what I think, but it happened.  And this is what I said...

Hi, my name is Little Miss Sunshine, and today I want to tell you about a fantastic cleaning product. It’s called ReligionOn, and it will change your life. It has the power to clean up your life, your relationships, and your career. The secret to ReligionOn is its dynamic combination of ingredients. Specially formulated by scientists, it combines Jesus Christ, ethics, morality, philosophy, and the essence of self-esteem and positivity to clean away any grime you have in your life. You can buy this revolutionary product all for the amazing price of $19.95. You heard me, $19.95!

An advertisement like this would be something to laugh at, if you were to find it on TV or in the newspaper, but really, ads like this exist and they are no laughing matter. The world has all kinds of products that claim to make your life better. Meditation, spirituality, community involvement, even a promotion and taking up running would do you good.

The people found in our reading today lived in a similar situation. They didn’t have TVs or email, but they lived in a place that was full of people telling them that a solution other than Jesus could be found for life’s big questions.

The book of Ephesians is a letter Paul wrote to the church at Ephesus. Here are some things you should know about the city of Ephesus. In 100 AD, it had a population of about half a million. There were three major roads that passed through Ephesus, as well as a port that brought in cargo from around the area. Because it was a sort of international/intercultural crossroads, it was also an important religious hub. That gives us a little historical/cultural/geographical background.

As Sarah mentioned earlier, this portion of the book of Ephesians is a prayer. Paul has worked with this church, we read about that in Acts 19, and he knows their situation. He spent a couple of years teaching and preaching there. God was doing miracles and people were coming to know Him. So Paul knows that they are a strong, growing church. When we come to the prayer, which is a common feature in Paul’s letters, he says this, the first part Sarah read to you, and here’s the second part, beginning in chapter 1, verse 19:

and what is the immeasurable greatness of his power toward us who believe, according to the working of his great might that he worked in Christ when he raised him from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly places, far above all rule and authority and power and dominion, and above every name that is named, not only in this age, but also in the one to come. And he put all things under his feet and gave him as head over all things to the church, which is his body, the fullness of him who fills all in all.

As Sarah talked about earlier, this prayer for a spirit of wisdom and revelation in knowledge of God, and a knowledge of this great hope and inheritance finishes with a prayer that the followers of Jesus in Ephesus would know the huge, great, awesome power that God has toward those who believe. He doesn’t conclude there with an Amen and dive into instructions for the church. Instead, Paul takes a moment to write about the ultimate demonstration of that power, the resurrection of Jesus, to give credence to this idea of power in the lives of believers.

After the resurrection, Jesus was seated at the Father’s right hand, “far above all rule and authority and power and dominion, and above every name that is named, not only in this age, but also in the one to come.” The Ephesians would have been well acquainted with those ideas of hierarchical power, in everything from being governed by the Roman Empire to the pagan religious powers present in the city.

It wasn’t just that Jesus died and God evacuated him from the situation and left us to our own devices. He didn’t come to earth as a secret agent, complete his mission, and move into retirement. Paul says “[God] put all things under [Jesus’] feet and gave him as head over all things to the church”. Jesus is the head of the church and its chief cornerstone. He is not absent or distant. He is not outdated or so meek as to be rendered powerless. He is still in on the action, working in his church around the world today. This is the Lamb John writes about in Revelation 5:9-10

And they sang a new song, saying, ‘Worthy are you to take the scroll and to open its seals, for you were slain, and by your blood you ransomed people for God from every tribe and language and people and nation, and you have made them a kingdom and priests to our God, and they shall reign on the earth.’”

This is the God of power that Paul prays the Ephesians would know. He doesn’t ask that they would know the power of God through Jesus and the power of positivity. He doesn’t ask that they would know the power of God through Jesus and the power of being involved in organizations. Jesus and Jesus alone is King, worthy of our time and trust. There is no need to buy the exclusive Jesus plus package. Luke summarizes this for us in Acts 4:11-12 when he quotes Peter speaking to the high priest:

This Jesus is the stone that was rejected by you, the builders, which has become the cornerstone. And there is salvation in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given among men by which we must be saved.”

The power of the empty tomb is enough. It is this power that Paul prays so fervently for the Ephesians to know in their own lives. Is our own situation so different? Living in a world where commerce and culture are constantly being transacted, where the theme of the day is religious pluralism – whatever works for you is fine, Jesus plus Buddha, or Jesus plus mystical spirituality, or even a common favorite, Jesus plus apathy! Jesus is fine, as long as you leave room for everything else, a religious buffet. But this Jesus who healed the blind and raised the dead, this Jesus who wept in the garden, who defeated death by his resurrection, this Jesus fills us so completely with his hope and his power, that there is room for nothing else.

What is our response to such a prayer? How do our lives reflect the eternal truth of Paul’s description of God’s power through Jesus? As Sarah said earlier, pray it! Pray it for the people you love, for yourself, for the world, that people would know the power of God that is found through Jesus Christ. Remember it. Tomorrow when you wake up, remember that you serve a King whose power is bigger than circumstances, worry, and broken hearts, and whose presence is forever with his people through his Holy Spirit. Live it. Live every moment as a person of hope, as a citizen of an eternal kingdom. Pray it, remember it, live it. Thank you.

* Three roads, major port, temple of Artemis, library of celsus (BiblePlaces.com/Ephesus.htm) 500,000 pop in 100 ad, 27 bc, under Augustus, was second only to Rome. (en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ephesus)
*Verses taken from the ESV Bible

Rainy water, swimming water, living water


Today was a rainy day. Sometimes it sprinkled and spat, sometimes it cascaded down in sheets, taking the occasional half hour break. I haven't done much today, in that I haven't left the house, and was in my pajamas until 11. However, I did move my lazy bones a bit in preparation for tomorrow. It's a pretty big day, tomorrow. SG and I are leading family Sunday school, helping with the music, giving our weekly report, reading the Scripture reading, and giving a reflection on the reading. That makes it sound like we're a big deal. We're not.

Sometimes I get the idea that I am, that I am important and autonomous enough to put a cap on my helping. If someone asks me to carry one more tricycle out to the playground, I'm going to let them have it, I grumble. Why won't these silly high schoolers eat crust toast. Don't they know there are people who would kill for crust? I complain. We get invited to come hang out with youth, but I don't really want to go because I don't want to be tired for Sunday. At night, as I kneel next to my bed like a four year old, I pray. Jesus, make me more like you. Jesus replies. Do you know what that means? I had no limits to my love, I didn't outgrow washing people's feet, I died the most painful death because I didn't want you to. Do you know what you're asking for?

Thursday, we got to hang out with our Aussie friends for dinner and prayer and general mucking around (Aussie for goofing off). Cath told us stories from her trip to Cambodia and showed some photos of the vibrant colors and glaring poverty there. It's easy enough to ignore when poverty is far from your neighborhood and human sex trafficking doesn't happen on your street corners. She told us about meeting some friends from IJM who do work in the country.

I always leave that house feeling refreshed and challenged. We talked about how silly it is for some to argue that social justice should be our focus of ministry while others say evangelism should be our priority. Can you separate the peanut butter from the jelly? Does loving God and others with all your heart allow any room for neglecting either meeting physical needs or meeting spiritual needs?

Yesterday, I took my first swim in the ocean! Chez met me down at the beach and Sam wandered over as well. As SG often reminds me, we are so blessed to have time for conversations on the beach in the middle of the afternoon. We talked for a while about Thanksgiving and Christmas break and how cold the Antarctic Ocean is. After a reasonable amount of egging on, I vacated my beachfront seat, took off running and plunged headfirst into the water. It really wasn't that cold. Funny enough, I'm still surprised every time I taste salt in the water. Too much time swimming in lakes and rivers for this girl!

Continue to pray for Mr. Matthews, as he's in a lot of pain with his pinched nerve, and they aren't really sure what course of action to take. He hates not being laid up and not out gardening, working with kids, and helping around church.

Well, friends, it's off to work at my favorite local taco joint!

Much love,

LMS


Friday, November 18, 2011

Curious George Makes Her Christmas List

 Dear friends, sorry it has been so long since I've written.  In other news, I have decided what I want for Christmas.  *drum roll, please*

1. Boyfriend
2. Lint roller
3. Headlamp
4. Rings, big, gaudy ones that make my long fingers look not so long
5. Knife sharpener

Now you may applaud that I have succeeded in completing this task before the first of December.  Thank you.

Anticipating a mixture of bewilderment and backlash from you, my dear friends, I am prepared to explain myself.  Firstly, the boyfriend.  I think it's about time.  I haven't been on a date in ages, and I've had enough of being single.  It's fun and all for a while, and I've had quite a hayday, but now I'm done.

When I mentioned this to my mother over the phone while delivering my Christmas list, she asked how I planned on getting a boyfriend for Christmas.  I haven't quite worked that out yet, but I'll keep you posted.  I'm quite picky, but also full of hope.  Besides, there's a kind of romance about Christmas.  That might work in my favor.  Lots of events, lots of people to meet at Christmas parties, even Jenny Harper's wedding to go to... I'm not entirely without ideas.  Even distressed damsels have to figure out how to get themselves distressed in the first place.

The second item on my list, which is without sentimentality, but full of class.  Do you ever see important, or just well dressed people with lint on their blue suits?  I think not.  I don't have a blue suit, but I do own a pair of blue trousers that happen to get rather linty when I wash them with my yellow hoodie.  If I were particular, I would separate my lights and darks and all that, but only people with an enormous amount of laundry can carry off such a feat when living by themselves.  Instead of walking around looking like Big Bird, bespeckled with yellow fuzzies, I'd rather delint myself and look presentable.

Headlamp.  You do not know how many times in the last 6 months I have thought to myself, I should've bought that headlamp on sale!  Who has enough hands to carry a flashlight, open your toothpaste, squish it onto your toothbrush and brush your teeth?  That's only basic survival, you can forget about clambering through slippery dark caves.

Rings.  Fingers full of rings.  I think it fitting for people of my occupation, age and socioeconomic level to wear interesting jewelry.  It needn't be expensive, only interesting.  As my fingers are long and almost embarrassingly spidery, I find bulky rings to be a helpful finger mask.

If you cook at all, you know what a hazard dull knives can be.  You think I misspoke and meant sharp knives.  No, indeed!  Dull knives are wildly dangerous.  You try to cut an onion, slice with all your might because your knife is dull and off comes your finger instead of an onion ring.  Oops.  Guess I should have sharpened that knife before it cost me my finger.  Not only is it dangerous, it's terribly tedious, and I do not like things that are tedious.   

So that is my Christmas list.  I have a small regret that it's not filled with romantic things like volumes of Frost's poetry or new colored pencils, but it will do.

Much love,

Georgia Delaney Hawthorne

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Crafting, because everyone's doing it!


First, a confession. I am not going to finish that book. Hunch or GoodReads recommended it to me, but it's just not good writing. Coyotes north of Portland that talk and have scarlet uniforms? No. Maybe for 250 pages, but not an ambitious 541. It was promising. It was a kids' chapter book, which I like, named Wildwood, which sounds nice, containing adventures in the woods with talking animals and magic, which was promising. The wording was descriptive, but it just didn't flow quite right. I asked SG what she thought, she wisely advised that life is too short to read bad books. Goodbye, Wildwood, I hope your author improves with practice.

Second, a purchase. Today I bought a dress. I love dresses. I love sundresses, little black dresses, wedding dresses, sweater dresses, even… OK, what the heck. I keep hearing this ticking noise in my room, like Captain Hook's croc is standing outside on my balcony or something. The annoying thing, besides its actual existence, is its inconsistency. Either stop and go away, or be steady enough that I can find you and dispose of your properly, ticking noise! Excuse me while I tend to this situation. Balcony's absence of crocodiles, check. Suitcase's absence of crocodiles, check. No, I didn't pack Scattergories, check. Noise has now stopped again, check.

Back to the subject at hand, dresses. A week ago, I moseyed into the op shop near the library. (Op shop = Australian for thrift store) There, in the recesses of outdated two piece women's suits, I found it. The cutest little tank top floral dress, all for the grand price of $3. (If you're counting, that's a whole 2.10 cheaper than that latte I bought at Starbucks) Impulsively, I tried it on. It fit, and, what's more, it had the feature most dresses should not be without, POCKETS!

Alas and alack, I left it on the rack, thinking, I really don't need more crap. Did I mention it was a little short? Well, today, dear friends, I went back with my compatriot, the illustrious SG, for a second opinion. I bought it. Three dollar dresses that fit are few and far between. Also, I bought a solution for the short problem, a pillowcase. That might a little like What's the capital of Idaho? 5. But it's true. I bought a yellow pillowcase with a ruffle in the artistic hopes that I could just add another band at the bottom. So, yes, I'll conform and post pictures, like all those real crafters who make light fixtures and furniture and knitted hats.

Third, an encounter… maybe that's not the right word. It sounds like I ran into a ghost or a rabid dog or something. Let's call it a… you decide for yourself what you will call it. Today at the little market, SG and I ran into two people! When you move to a new place, those kinds of events become landmarks of settling in. We are blessed to help out with the church play group, which boasts about 70 families spread over three days. That's a lot of moms. Plus there are church people, work people, high school people, and there's always the friends to run into, like when I ran into Jake and distracted him from studying by asking about his apple shaped beanie. It's a good feeling, knowing you have people to run into.

In 29 days, I'll be running into people I haven't seen in a while, and that will be a most joyous occasion, see you there.

LMS

Large plans and little experience


You might say I packed my apron for such a time as this. Prepare yourself… I'm having more Thanksgivings overseas than I have ever had in the U.S. of A. Thanksgiving No. 1 will be held next Wednesday at our host parents' house. They usually have Wednesday night dinners with their son in law and grandson. It's fun to have a family dinner every week, and we just asked if we could cook next week for Thanksgiving. They've lived in the States before, so they know about Thanksgiving. 

Thanksgiving No. 2 is two days afterwards at the home of our pastor and his wife. They're both great cooks and have offered to have us and our first and second host parents over for dinner. There will even be American ingredients, more about that in a minute. Thanksgiving No. 3 has not been confirmed yet, but will hopefully be with "the friends" the Thursday after Thanksgiving. Yes, you noticed correctly, we won't be having any of these actually on Thanksgiving proper.

What have we signed up for? I've never baked a turkey before. I've stood by and watched while dad basted, massaged, and meticulously monitored temperatures of the departed fowl for hours. Zero to three Thanksgivings? Maybe we bit off more than we could chew (haha, Thanksgiving joke)? 

Hopefully, my practical side with take command over my thoughts and we'll have a solid, sensible homage to our forefather Pilgrims and Indians. As an extrapolation of the data in Confession 36, I could either be up until midnight cutting out paperdoll turkeys and rolling out hand made pie crust, or buy something in the freezer aisle and hope for the best. Oh, middle road! Where are you in this tumult?

Speaking of food… on Tuesday, SG and I made a pilgrimage to the famed Queen Victoria Market in Melbourne (pronouced: MELL-bun). Showing ourselves as public transportation ninjas, we went by bus and train to the city, where we consulted our maps and after only getting lost once, we arrived. To say this is a huge market would be silly. First, the word huge is not worthy of such a market, second, it's larger than huge.

With the majority of it occupied by open air stalls under giant metal sheds, the market boasts aisles of everything from Aussie flag bikinis (that was a hard decision), boomerangs, and Middle Eastern table cloths to any kind of produce your heart could desire. The other portion of the market is indoor and is composed (comprised, composed??) of permanent tiny storefronts. There are fish mongers, butchers, coffee and tea shops, delicatessens draped in salamis and great wheels of cheese.

The first part of the morning, we wandered, aliens in a land of options. We agreed to just take stock of our surroundings, as we had several hours to finish any shopping we wanted to do. Up one aisle and down the next, a man heralding the price of cherries, and being told I should buy a boomerang and catch a man with it. After an hour and a half, we were overwhelmed and purchaseless. What's a girl to do in such dire straits? Why, seek out the nearest beacon of American culture, Starbucks. Although paying $5.10 for a tall gingerbread latte is exorbitant, I did it. Dire straits indeed. So we sat outside Starbucks. I ate half a piece of Turkish flatbread and SG, her PBJ. We regrouped and refueled while people watching on the sunny streets of Melbourne. After a short walk back to the market, by way of the beautiful State Library, we had connected with our inner retail warrior and girded our loins for what lay ahead.

We went to battle with epic enemies like "would Aunt Gertrude like this tea towel?" and "how many Australia magnets do I really need?" . Such foes have the potential to derail any Christmas shopping operation, but we routed them. I would give you the fine list of acquisitions, but they're Christmas presents, so I'll remain mute on the subject. Suffice it to say, we did well. Pastor John picked us up, as he was already in the city for something else and gave us a ride home. On the way, we stopped at USA Foods. This nondescript little shop on a nondescript street is a treasury of such gems as Dublin Dr. Pepper, Libby's canned pumpkin and Doritos. I think giddy would be an appropriate word there.

And so the two American girls arrived home footsore and triumphant after another day in the city.

Little Miss Sunshine



Tuesday, November 15, 2011

A Sense of Place


Miles of sunbaked desert dirt stretch out underneath a fiercely blue sky. Saguaro extend their arms stoically upward. The only things that can live out here are scaly rattlesnakes and prickly peccaries, well, and Arizonans. Some would say the desert is a barren, desolate wasteland, but they haven't seen it after a spring thunderstorm. A fiery blaze of wildflowers quickly transforms that barren, desolate wasteland into a lush garden of creamy yucca, poppies and fuchsia prickly pear blooms. After sunset, the temperature plummets and anyone about will have front row seats to the eerie symphony of the coyote and the owl. That same fiercely blue sky that later glowed with a sinking pot of gold is now the darkest of blues and alight with more stars than can be numbered, like thousands of votives at a candle light service.

Some would say the desert is too open, exposing, baring your existence to the world. They are used to leafy canopies of maple and oak, where the sound of gushing water is never far away, and the forest is populated by small woodland creatures that rustle and chirp. They haven't felt the almost tangible silence of the desert as a friend, driving you to the deepest, quietest places of your heart. They haven't experienced the miles of sunbaked desert dirt as freedom to run as far as you could run, unhampered by trees or rivers. Not that you'd want to run miles into the desert, but with that much open flatness to the horizon and beyond, you feel as though you could.

It's a peculiar place, the desert. Seemingly hostile to life, it teems with activity during the cooler night hours. Appearing unchangingly dusty and desiccated, it is transformed with the help of monsoon showers. It is unforgiving, and, like the sea, a force to be reckoned with. I don't really know why they built a city in the middle of it, entrenched in a ring of mountains. Maybe it was just a stop on the way to greener pastures in California and Oregon, but some crazy man with a vision decided to stay and build a city, one that has become a sprawling metropolitan center for agriculture, business and engineering.

A third generation Arizonan, I inherited a little of that spitfire spirit, that wild west sense of adventure and determination. My ancestors were small business owners, cowboys, and teachers who made the desert their home and built lives from its dust. There's still a trace of their indomitable spirit racing through my veins.

As a sense of place, it's a long way from the ragged mountains of Colorado or rolling hills of Virginia. It doesn't have the appeal of a sprawling historic brownstone in New York, or the cozy feel of a family farmhouse in Minnesota. The desert provides a strange kind of comfort. It's not welcoming or cozy. It's wild and unruly, more like a wild mustang than a gentle plow horse, but it's home. The smell of creosote after the rain and the yellow saguaro blooms are home. The sun that goes down blazing behind the line of mountains in the west is home. The desert is home.

Little Miss Sunshine

Monday, November 14, 2011

Dates of the up kind

Tonight I was brave at work.  I answered the phone.  Answer the phone?  You may ask.  Little Miss Sunshine has no problems with talking to people.  How does answering the phone take bravery?  

Answering the phone in a noisy restaurant in another country is DIFFERENT!  Sometimes when the phone rings and I'm standing by it, I walk away and find a table to clean so an Aussie will answer it.  Cowardly.  I take responsibility for that.  I've answered the phone a couple times, and I haven't had any major disasters.  I usually just have to ask people to repeat themselves, and take a guess at what they said their name was.  I refuse to be afraid of answering the phone.  There.

In other news, which this is a newsy post, so there will be news.

What's a Lorry? 
Saturday last, a silver Mercedes pulled into a particular lane halfway up the hill that sits at the edge of the little town.  Armed with my nothing sandwich (two pieces of bread, which happens when I don't make time to make an actual sandwich), a couple apples and a carrot, a water bottle, camera, and my thoroughly scuffed cowboy boots.  After a half hour car ride in aforementioned Mercedes, we arrived at our destination, generically The Dandenong Show.  But my experiences at this show were far from generic.  The primary reason I went to this show was I was invited.  A couple from church have several Clydesdale horses that they show, sometimes driving lorries.  A lorry is the Aussie term for a light wagon.  It's also the name for an 18 wheeler, but I'm not talking about those. 

Things I Did at the Dandenong Show
  • Present awards for the Clydesdale horse show
  • Present awards for the cow and calf show
  • Drive a lorry 
  • Ride on a lorry in the Grand Parade

It was an incredible day.  I even got to practice my fair queen wave while I was in the Grand Parade.  There were plenty of other things around at the show - dogs, chickens, alpacas, crafts, expensive icky fair food...

Sundays Are for Singing
Sundays are a pretty big day around here.  The day starts with family worship service, then the regular service where SG and I help with music and present our weekly update, then morning tea (social time), SG usually goes to work, I come home, then she comes home and I go to work!  This past Sunday was special, though, because we had the "Musical Afternoon" after the church luncheon.  

Everyone brought a plate (which means potluck, you don't just bring an empty plate), and we sat and talked and drank tea, etc.  When the slices and sandwiches had been exhausted, we moved into the sanctuary for some music.  SG played some clarinet duets with our first host mom, and I played a little Beethoven.  Our first host dad even came, who doesn't usually come to church.  

Old people are so great.  If you don't know any, go search hedges and highways until you find some.  If you don't think they want to talk to young people, you're wrong, they're just nervous.  

That First Day's a Doozy
This morning, SG and I had the pleasure of attending our dear friends, Sam and Hannah's wedding via Skype.  It's so great to have technology that makes you feel like you're halfway around the world.  We really missed being able to celebrate in person, but so excited for them.  From there, we went to Breakfast with Bill, our Monday morning tradition with our host parents and their friend Bill.  Playgroup at the farm came next, with acres of gardens, pastures, and some very nice scones.  Bible study at the high school was after that, then I crashed and didn't move for an hour.  I dragged myself out of bed for a cup of joe and went to work.

Pray
Please pray for our dear friend, Mr. Matthews.  He has a pinched nerve in his neck and has been stuck at home in lots of pain, unable to eat anything because the pain meds are upsetting his stomach.

Pray for God to grow his church in Australia.

Heaps of love,

Little Miss Sunshine    



Sunday, November 13, 2011

10 Things I Learned from Being a Waitress

1. Details can make or break a night - out of cake but have a birthday?  Just stick a candle down a straw in a slushy.

2. Customer service matters - if people wanted just food, they'd have gotten fast food or takeout.

3. Some people have bad days and take it out on waitresses - maybe they just lost their job, don't let it get to you and give them the best service you can.

4. Find the best person at your job and study them - I want to be like Lana and Mercy because they work hard, quick, and smart.  They always seem like they're in command of a situation without being bossy. 

5. Just because you have seniority doesn't mean you're any good at what you do.

6. Watch the person from #5 and figure out how in the world they still have their job.

7. Being a ninja makes carrying plates and dodging people and children underfoot easier.

8. Scrape plates well for the dishies and respect the kitchen, they may make you chocolate nachos - thanks, Ellie!

9. Treat all customers like they're the Queen, they might turn into regulars.

10.  Work like your pants are on fire, but never be too busy to help a customer - it's tempting to get too busy and look it.  Don't. 

Another busy day at the restaurant, check.  Learning lots of life lessons about treating people well.  

Much love,

LMS, who will be home in 32 days!

Saturday, November 12, 2011

In Favor of Nationalism


Red, white and blue. Bald Eagles. Parades. Bigotry. Ethnocentrism. Hubris. Rednecks. Whatever it is that you think of when you think of America, it's yours.

"When in the course of human events" is yours.

"...in order to form a more perfect union, establish justice, ensure domestic tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general welfare and secure the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity" is yours.

"Give me liberty or give me death" is yours.

"We hold these truths to be self evident, that all men are created equal and are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights" is yours.

"I have a dream" is yours.

The ugly scars of the Civil War are yours, internment camps for Asian Americans, broken contracts with the Native Americans, a national debt in the trillions, and a reputation of ignorance are yours.

In an age where the world has shrunk, bringing cultures hurtling towards each other in globalization, nationalism is viewed as a silly trapping of antiquity. Business is international and foreign affairs are no longer relegated to arranging a marriage to the crown prince of the Holy Roman Empire or conquering your neighbors. International travel has become a hobby.

Those who would beam wearing a badge of political correctness would say taking pride in one's country is narrow minded, that we should be much more open to diversity and other cultures. What great things has America done, anyway? The would scoff. They've poked their nose in everyone's business, they're consumed with greedy capitalism, and beyond that they're conceited about being Americans. They would sneer. We are global citizens. Nationalism is only an obstacle to progress. They would coo.

Well, I think they're wrong.

Before you get worked up, listen to what I'm not saying. I'm not saying we oughtn't teach children about other cultures, or that we shouldn't make people of other cultures feel welcome in our country. (Isn't that how we were founded, after all?) I'm not saying we'd be better off going our own way, forget global cooperation and commerce. There, now, calm down.

I am arguing in favor of a hearty helping of nationalism. I think that you - whether you are from Australia, America, Morocco or Ireland, should love that country. Oh, citizen of whatever country, love her truly and dearly. There is no need to be convinced that she is the best nation in all the world, a shining nation with no flaws. She need only be your favorite. There is no need to hate the rest of mankind and their nations, but bear your own title with determination. Love your nation when she is wrong, for who else will put her to rights, if not those who love her deeply? Love your nation when she is right, for who should celebrate more happily? In an era of global this and that, have we also done away with a need for roots and a sense of place? I think not even the most advanced engineering could do that for (to) us.

And so, on this Remembrance Day in Australia, where red poppies are pinned to lapels and shirt fronts, and the banners read "lest we forget", love your country, whoever she may be.


Little Miss Sunshine

Thursday, November 10, 2011

Confession 36


Confession 36.
I have hardly an ounce of temperance in my body.

The longer I live, the more thoroughly I become acquainted with this natural deficiency. I confessed this to some friends the other night, and they just laughed and nodded. I'm not talking about drinking too much alcohol here or temperance movements or any of that. I'm talking about plain old moderation.

Is the no middle ground? Am I not a balanced human being? I used to think so, as my dad would often say I had a good head on my shoulders. I wouldn't consider myself moody or flighty per se, the oscillations make their appearances in different ways.

I'm either running pell mell flying down the hill, or sitting lazily on my bed not wanting to move. It's like my body has two settings - fast and furious or sluggish and sedentary. I gulp my water a whole litre at a time, then wait hours between drinks. In my mind it saves time and space in my shoulder bag if I just fit a whole water bottle down my gullet instead. Either I'm being a laid back hippie who lives life on the spur of the moment, or I'm the most annoying Type A planner you ever met in your life.

I either want to make the decisions, or just be told what to do. Just make me the top and give me some free reign (or rein if you're of a western mind) or give me good instructions and I'll set to work. When I'm working, I usually have two approaches - work ahead or race pace. The work ahead approach helps clear up time for gadding about spontaneously, and it means I've finished an assignment weeks in advance far before it's necessary to start thinking about it. This is the approach I'm using right now for job searches. I've already started looking for next fall. It's an exciting project, so I started far before anyone ought to be thinking about a job next August. The other approach I take to getting things done is race pace. This is along the lines of flying pell mell helter skelter hoping you don't hit any speed bumps or else you're dead. This happens when I underestimate the amount of time a project will take and overestimate my ability to do it. Thankfully, I've had only a small number of speed bumps, and just a good collection of late nights and early mornings. Children's Literature task cards…? Mmm.

It's clean or dirty. I'm in the mud up to my knees with slime in my hair and all manner of grossness on my face, or I want to stay far away from the mud and muck to keep my shoes nice. Either commit and be messy, or find a gentleman with a cape to lay across a puddle. In the same vein, I feel similarly about rain. Non-committal rain drives me mad. None of this spitting now and then business. Either commit to rain, and pour with all your might and muscle, or stay dry and give me the sun. I tell the sky this often.

Even in travel I see a bit of this bent. On the right hand, I think, why not pick a place, live there, buy a cow, plant an orchard, and put down some roots in the community. Be one of those 1940s sort of people who live in a place for a very long time, raise their kids there, know their neighbors and see things through feast and famine. But then on the left hand, I think, this travel thing is a pretty good gig. You should just travel in your spare time, visit friends around the country, see the world, make that your hobby. [You can't have a cow and travel in all your spare time.]

Husbands fall under this intemperance as well. Either I want one RIGHT NOW, or I can't be bothered with love or men, and I'll be the aunt who takes her nieces and nephews on holidays. I guess you could say waiting isn't one of my natural virtues. Emotions can't escape this curse either. I may feel a thing so acutely I fear my heart will crack and crumble, or burst with swelling. Every blade of grass is an exquisite masterpiece and every line of poetry fit to make you cry. I may feel absolutely nothing and getting water from a rock would be a more hopeful prospect than getting an ounce of emotion out of my heart.

Well, there you have it. I am intemperate. This shall not always be, as I imagine time wears off rough edges, and sanctification is a great catalyst in the project.  Until then, poor SG and the rest of my compatriots will have to endure.

Yours truly,

LMS

Green Acres is the place to be, farm living is the life for me...


I could sing the theme song with all it's faux Hollywood twang. Most of you probably wouldn't know about Green Acres, a show I caught on the second time around. It's about a couple who leaves New York City for the pleasures and ridiculous escapades of farm life. Tuesday, I was reminded how dearly I love farm life. But that's not half of the adventure…

Monday, after playgroup, we jumped in a Subaru (wo)manned by a howeveroldshewas retired school teacher and principal. Her name was Leslie and she is the best traveled person I've met to date. Among her list are Bhutan, Japan, China, Russia, Zimbabwe, Iceland, Canada, USA, Greece, Scotland, New Guinea, the list goes on… Never married, she spent her life teaching kindergarten and later, traveling. She has a holiday house on Phillip Island, which is an island southeast of Melbourne. It's used by her nieces and nephews and all of their kids, and she wanted to take us.

My island experience has been almost exclusively confined to what could be classified as tropical islands. Philip Island broke the trend. It's covered with paddocks (Australian for pastures or fields) which are in turn covered with cows or sheep. Our first stop was Surfer's Beach, near Woolamai. Talk about some pristine beaches. Wowza. It was beautiful. Next we stopped at the house and ate some sandwiches before piling in the car again and heading off to the Koala Conservation Center, where we made Jeff Corwin and Crocodile Hunter inspired videos. We also saw some wallabies and a kookaburra.

Back into the car and off to the Nobbies, a gorgeous set of rocky cliffs/formations on the west end of the island. There were rolling hills covered with tall grasses, tumbling down into jagged cliffs right into a sapphire sea. The banks were swathed in a pink succulent and speckled with sea gull nests. I felt like I was at the white cliffs of Dover, except that these weren't white. I just didn't expect Australia to look like this. It's a contender for the most beautiful place I have ever seen.

Fun fact, Phillip Island is home to only one species of snake, the copperhead, which has no specific antivenom. And WE SAW ONE! We drove over it in the car. I don't know if we actually hit it, but it was wriggling across the road when I looked back. It was long and horrid.

Having (again) been worn out by an old person, we stumbled into bed when we returned to the house that afternoon. We revived ourselves for a quick dinner and were off again!

We waited with great anticipation. Hundreds gathered, donning hats and coats for the occasion. The sun set, and they came. I'm not referring to Santa and his elves, or aliens and their spaceship. I'm talking about the Penguin Parade! We descended the boardwalk to the ocean's edge and garnered 5th row seats on the beach bleachers. After much waiting, the penguin parents coasted in to the beach, gathering in groups called rafts to cross the beach before dispersing to their burrows among the sand dunes. We saw penguins in the WILD! God is such an amazing creator. Wow.

The next day, we went to Churchill Island. Now there's a way to spend a morning, galavanting through paddocks, and roaming over hillocks. The island is set up as a kind if historical working farm, with old homestead buildings still intact. There were towering draft horses, lots of sheep, a couple very loud peacocks, chickens, and COWS. And we got to milk a cow. Oh, friends, that is my happy place. Head leaning against the warm stomach of a cow (just like Almanzo in Farmer Boy by Laura Ingalls Wilder) listening to milk hit the side of a tin pail. To top it all off, it was a Jersey, which happens to be one of my very favorite cows. 

 After that bit of euphoria, we romped a bit in the paddock. There weren't any signs telling us otherwise, so we just went through gates and trod the sod. There were giant lavender beds, a windmill, and barbed wire. How could anyone live in the city?? While I doubt I would ever farm for a living, I absolutely love country life.

Much love,

LMS