Dear Gentlemen,

Last week, I went dancing.  I don't know if you know this, but I love to dance.  When I say love, I mean I'd rather dance than eat.  In my short 23 years, I've danced on my fair share of dance floors, been dropped on my head, and attempted to follow lots of different lead styles.  Along the way, I've discovered some things it would be good for guys to know about dancing with girls. 

Dear Gentlemen,

1. Please do your best to keep all our joints in their appropriate sockets.

Last week, I danced with the strongest lead in the history of my dancing escapades.  I think he downed a Monster/RedBull/Amp/RockStar cocktail for a little liquid courage before he asked me to dance.  The kid was dancing double time and flinging me to the far corners of the earth like a professional yoyo stunt man.  I quickly developed a coping technique that involved anticipating his next move so that my shoulder would stay properly attached to its socket. 

Here's the deal, guys.  We like a strong lead.  We like to know where we're going, and we're not exactly fragile, but we do appreciate a little gentleness.  It's even OK if you spend some time not dipping/twirling/aerial-ing us.  That's called giving us a breather, and it's absolutely permissible.  We and our ball and socket joints salute you. 

2. All you have to do is ask.

When I go dancing, I like to, um, dance.  I would say that's what most girls like to do when they "go dancing".  I know asking girls to dance is scary and what if we say no and you have inner manly man insecurities, etc., etc.  Be of good courage, men.  We want to dance with you.  Although I can't give it a 100% Sunshine Guarantee, there will be few circumstances under which you will get rejected when you ask a girl to dance.  These might include… recent hip replacements, vertigo, sprained ankle or heat stroke.  As all those things are pretty rare, ask away. 

We don't care too much if you're just learning and have to do the same steps for the whole song.  We don't really care if you're shorter than us or don't look like a GQ model.  You don't have to be Mr. Super Suave and whisper sweet nothings in our ears (actually, we'd probably prefer that you didn't).  Just do your best to treat us like ladies, and we'll tell all our friends how lovely it was to dance with you.    

3. Don't talk about other girls.

This should be self-explanatory.  We like to feel like you want to dance with us, not the girl with the long blonde hair that you keep looking at and talking about.  I know this should be obvious, but I include it because it's happened.  The exception to this rule is if you're dancing with a girl who's flirting her boots off and you need to reassure her that you're very happy dating the girlfriend/fiancée/wife you already have. 

4. Lead the way.

A few months ago, I was at a Scottish Highland Ball twirling and galloping my feet off.  To my delight, someone under 75 asked me to dance.  Of course, I said yes (refer to #2, above).  He asked if I knew this particular dance, and I said no, I'd just follow him.  He replied, "Oh, no, don't follow me!"  To this, I discreetly rolled my eyes.

Gentlemen, we don't expect you to be Fred Astaire or Gene Kelly.  We understand you may not be eligible for the next season of So You Think You Can Dance.  What we do expect and understand is you're supposed to lead.  We don't mind tagging along as you try to figure that out.  Even occasionally stepping on our toes is a pardonable offence if you're penitent and trying your best to lead.  We know leading isn't easy, and we know it takes learning.  That said, we have full confidence in your ability to acquire this art, and we expect you to try. 

5. Be a credit to your sex.

Set the bar high for what a girl expects of her next dance partner.  For the sake of clarity, I'll be explicit… smell nice, brush your teeth, don't give us dirty looks when we miss your cues and mess up, smile, ask us our name, thank us for the dance when the song's over.          

We appreciate you and respect the guts it takes to ask us to dance and lead the way.

Most affectionately,

Little Miss Sunshine

How Communities Change

I don't like the tsunami of emotion and help that pours out when tragedy happens, but slowly and surely ebbs after a few weeks.  Columbine, 9/11, Virginia, and now Aurora have left scars on the pages of our history.  We are a nation who is heartbroken for families who are now missing people they love and angry that someone would dare take lives in that way.  There are stories of heroism, visits from the President and celebrities, and articles from all the news corporations.  People will freak out about gun control vs. the right to bear arms.  Theaters might not have the same magic for a while. 

But what about in a year or two?  Will anyone have shut down this theater of horror playing out in our country?  I don't know.  Things don't change by themselves.  But what if people got tired of hearing about these stories on the news?  What if someone decided to make sure the people around them didn't feel alone and helpless.  What if two people did that, or five, or a thousand?  What if someone decided that mentoring young people was really important, so important that it deserved some time out of their week?

What if sports and the arts were seen as a way out of gang culture and vandalism?  Kids could learn how to win and lose graciously, and work in a team.  They could learn to funnel their frustrations into punting a football or sketching sky scrapers instead of smashing windows and throwing up graffiti.  We might have a generation of renaissance men and women who could strive together for a more beautiful tomorrow. 

What if we started urban community gardens?  San Franciscans aren't the only people who ought to eat vegetables.  Kids in Kansas City and Detroit and Miami need veggies too.  Maybe if grandmas and grandpas and aunties and uncles and cousins all came out to grow some fresh food, we'd see a nutritional revolution clearing out hospitals better than the best prescriptions.  Dinner would become a family event again, and communities could be built around the land bearing fruit. 

What if we valued the land more highly?  Cleaning up our creeks and rivers, planting native flowers and doing some recycling could be merely aesthetic, but maybe it would be easier to live a beautiful life if we lived in a beautiful place.  Parks would be a place to play frisbee and have family picnics, not deal drugs and get into trouble.  Runners wouldn't have to grimace when they ingested smog on their daily jog around the block.  By living responsibly, we could be better stewards of the beautiful land we have. 

Wow.  I've wound myself up into an inspired frenzy.  Let's do it!  Let's change the world!  Let's start a non-profit!  Let's start a babysitting service for single parents!  If we just got a few people on board, we could be change agents in the world.  They would definitely include us in the 2100 editions of history books.  Before you gather all your besties for a brainstorming coffee date, stop.  All these things - art clubs, community gardens, mentoring programs, reducing pollution - are great things.  They might alleviate the symptoms of our dysfunctional culture.  They might convince us that we're really making a dent in things.  They might even win some awards.  But we are dead wrong if we ever think that these things alone will solve our problems of family disintegration, violence, and brokenness.

There is one solution, and His name is Jesus.  His love cracks open the most tightly locked hearts.  His peace comforts the shaken and distraught.  His strength gives courage to do what is good.  He died so that we could live.  He said Himself:

The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy.  I came that they may have life and have it abundantly. 

John 10:10

He is the life giver.  There is no program, no mission statement, no organization that can do that.     

Whoever has the Son has life; whoever does not have the Son of God does not have life.

1 John 5:12

So, what if we cared about people because they are made in the image of God?  If we showed them the love of Jesus in whatever we do - youth orchestras or mentoring programs or running clubs - maybe they would come to know Him and begin to truly live.  If we taught people how to take care of their bodies and take care of the natural resources around them because we've been entrusted with God's very special creation, maybe we 'd see less obesity and more people out walking and riding their bikes. 

We all have gifts!  We all have passions for areas that we can make a difference.  That's not just a coincidence.  God has given us tools to use to make His name known in the world.  We tell people about Jesus, and we love people like Jesus did, and we spend our lives so that people can know Him and follow Him.  That's exciting!  I don't mean to squelch your love for recycling.  By all means, recycle.  Start community gardens.  Volunteer.  Do what it is God has gifted you to do here and around the world.  My caution is to make sure your foundation is built on the Rock, Jesus.  He is the one who makes deep, lasting change. 

We want communities that are whole, dynamic and healthy.  Sometimes that requires programs and budgets and committees, but may we never forget that the true trouble with people is not that they need a program, but a Life giver. 

Little Miss Sunshine


http://www.biblegateway.com/

The Rending

Definition of REND

transitive verb

1: to remove from place by violence : wrest

2: to split or tear apart or in pieces by violence

3: to tear (the hair or clothing) as a sign of anger, grief, or despair

4a : to lacerate mentally or emotionally b : to pierce with sound c : to divide (as a nation) into contesting factions

Pasted from <http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/rend>

There was the first rending.  As soon as Eve believed the lie and ate the fruit, Heaven and Earth were rent in two.  After the first rending, there was murder and slavery, cheating and pride.  Strangely enough, God didn't walk away.  He stuck around and taught people about what life was like before the first rending, when things were perfect.  He gave them laws to teach them, and a promise to give them hope.  Someone would come that would set things right.  Some day, things would be like they were in the beginning, before famine or war or infidelity. 

A few thousand years and a world of hurt later, this One came.  They thought the One bringing hope would come with an army or at least a battle plan.  Overthrowing the Roman Empire is no task for the unprepared.  They thought perhaps he would be like Saul, a head taller than everyone else, and good looking too.  They were wrong.  When the One bringing hope came, He said odd things like only those who are like children will enter the Kingdom of God, and one should pay taxes to Caesar, and to be first, get to the end of the line.  He taught on the hillsides; He taught from boats.  He healed bodies, but He also healed hearts. 

Then they killed Him.  That was odd too.  He told them the truth, and they gave Him a Roman execution.  He said He was the Son of God, the Messiah, the One bringing hope.  They had no reason to believe He was lying or crazy.  Lying people give up lying when faced with a Roman flogging.  Crazy people can't heal leprosy.  As He hung suspended between two railroad tie-sized nails, He died.  Down the road at the Temple, the curtain was rent. 

Now, this wasn't just any old curtain hanging in a window of the Temple.  This curtain separated the areas where priests could go, and the place called the "Holy of Holies" that could only be entered once a year by the High Priest.  When Jesus, the One who brought hope, died, that curtain was ripped from top to bottom physically, signifying that we no longer needed a High Priest to make sacrifices for our sins.  The One who brought hope gave Himself as a sacrifice, once and for all. 

A couple thousand years later and we have libraries of literature written about the first rending, the second rending, and everything between and since.  God kept His promise.  He always does.  When we had done the unthinkable, broken the relationship between God and people by eating the fruit, He made a way for us to be together again.  By rending that curtain, He was mending what had been broken.  By coming to God on the basis of what Jesus did, of that hope that He brought instead of our own abilities, that relationship is knit together again.  We still damage it sometimes.  We say things that dishonor Him or treat people like they don't matter.  We spend freely on ourselves and skimp when it comes to giving to others. 

Jesus, rend our hearts.  Break them when they are calloused against the evil we do to each other.  Break them when we think we can be god ourselves.  Let our hearts not be in one piece if that piece is like shiny tin- cheap, impenetrable, inflexible.   Help us remember that hearts are never made whole except by Your hand.

Little Miss Sunshine

Credits

http://www.answersingenesis.org/articles/2011/10/11/contradictions-temple-veil-torn-in-two

The Michelin Miss Hits the Desert

Thursday morning, the friends bundled us and all our gear into Cherie's parents' monster SUV (which was 4WD and a manual) and departed for the airport.  *insert standing ovation for Cherie's driving a manual monster in Melbourne morning traffic*  TJ and Sam provided navigation and comic relief, while Monica added anecdotes from her seat among the luggage.  Cath even came along via cell phone. 

The dread was mounting as we approached the airport.  There were enough suitcases for everyone to lug one along.  You'd have thought we were all going somewhere instead of just SG and I.  We held our breaths as we weighed our suitcases.  No troubles there, surprisingly.  We downed a quick latte and headed toward the red carpet of the international departure entrance.  I didn't really know what to say, and I'd cried all my tears out on Sunday, so I attempted cheerful things like, "Well, we love you"  "We'll come visit" and "It's going to be OK".  I hate saying goodbye.

Off down the red carpet we went, passed through customs without mishap and sat down at our gate.  Nearly 14 hours and 4 movies later, we emerged into the urban jungle known as LAX.  We'd passed from Australia to the US and from winter to summer.  This was especially evident when I stepped into my home airport wearing a tank, t-shirt, flannel long sleeve, puffy vest, red pea coat, jeans, leg warmers and my cowboy boots.  I looked like the Michelin Miss.  My family, plus Zanna and Auj were there to welcome me and immediately started laughing at my red-faced, overheated appearance.  I started peeling off layers to match the 105 temperatures.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch...

There has been plenty of sleeping included in my days home so far.  Catching up with friends has been great, as well as just hanging around the house and getting pedis and lunch with Mom.  It's been an adjustment, having a schedule and an apartment and a roommate to having no job and living in my own room, oh, and going back to a church big enough to have a café and bookstore. 

The game plan right now is to see a few friends in CO and TX before settling into the daily grind.  Because it's going to take a while longer to transfer my license from Arkansas, I'll probably substitute teach for a bit before getting a full time teaching job.  There will be some plugging into stuff at church, and finding my place in a city I haven't lived in year-round since high school. 

Do I miss my friends in Australia?  Yes.  Am I glad to be home?  Yes.  Is it annoying and confusing having both these emotions at once?  YES. 

Sorry to leave, happy to be home,

Little Miss Sunshine

Exchanging Unpleasantries

Religion.  Politics.  Sexuality.  Bioethics.  Racism.  Money.  Is there anything else I'm not allowed to talk about?  Ok.  I think that leaves work, family, Pinterest and the weather (though perhaps not because we might disagree on climate change).  Let's face it, talking about things we might disagree on would be unpleasant and uncomfortable.  Comfort is paramount and must be maintained, at all cost.  If conversation centers around things that don't matter, no one will be offended and we can get by with exchanging pleasantries.

Welcome to the land of political correctness.  The powers that (we allow to) be make the rules about what we ought to say and how we ought to say it.  To offend is the cardinal sin, and with the rules above, offense is always close at hand.  I am no political analyst.  I am no history buff.  I'm not even 30 year old, but it seems to me that these conversational taboos are the things we should be talking about. 

Let me qualify that last sentence.  There are some people who talk about difficult issues by holding up nasty signs and yelling angry things.  There are other people who jabber about current events like it's celebrity gossip but don't bother doing any research or macro-evaluation of the issue.  I think time would be better spent putting down the picket signs, coming in off of the street corner, pouring a cup of coffee and doing a bit of thoughtful non-Facebook-based inquiry. 

What do you think about euthanasia?  Does it set a precedent for ending the lives of the voiceless, or does it allow nature to take its course a bit faster?  How about two guys being recognized as married?  In what ways does it affect the status of a man and woman who are married?  In what ways does racism still exist in the South towards whites or blacks or anyone else?  Is there a God?  If so, why do bad things happen?  I could go on, but let's not overwhelm you with the possibilities. 

I know.  You're disappointed.  You were perfectly content talking about the labraschnitzadoodle puppy your sister came home with and the Thai restaurant you ate at last night.  Let Washington worry about what to do about illegal immigration and Planned Parenthood's treatment of African American women.  Let schools worry about how to teach money management and generous stewardship.  Let the church teach my kid about right and wrong.

There's a problem with only talking about labraschnitzadoodle puppies and Thai restaurants.  "Land of the free, home of the brave" is not a default setting.  Nations don't start out as virtuous and prosperous, nor do they continue as such if left to themselves.  Governments don't always gravitate toward justice, and leaders are not always drawn to wisdom.  It is by the active, thoughtful involvement of a people of integrity that nations succeed. 

John Adams, the second President of the United States wrote this in a letter in 1798: "should the people of America once become capable of that deep simulation towards one another, and towards foreign nations, which assumes the language of justice and moderation, while it is practicing iniquity and extravagance, and displays in the most captivating manner the charming pictures of candour, frankness, and sincerity, while it is rioting in rapine and insolence, this country will be the most miserable habitation in the world." (emphasis mine)

Catch that?  Here's a paraphrase, "if Americans ever settle for talking about the right thing instead of doing the right thing , the U.S. is going to be a crap country".  Ha.  Adams wrote this over 200 years ago.  I love being an American, and I think we enjoy more freedom than most of the world.  I would argue that that is exactly why we shouldn't shy away from speaking of what is difficult.  How can we do what is difficult if we aren't even willing to talk about it?   

There might be some areas where you and I have different ideas.  So what?  That's OK.  Let's exchange some thoughtful unpleasantries.  I don't mean all the time and at every Christmas party, but know what you think and be able to back it up.  Disagreeing doesn't have to mean you're rude.  Take my good man, Patrick, for example, in his speech in favor of being independent of England.  He certainly isn't talking about easy issues, but he's not making silly ad hominem arguments either. 

"No man thinks more highly than I do of the patriotism, as well as abilities, of the very worthy gentlemen who have just addressed the House. But different men often see the same subject in different lights; and, therefore, I hope it will not be thought disrespectful to those gentlemen if, entertaining as I do opinions of a character very opposite to theirs, I shall speak forth my sentiments freely and without reserve…  and in proportion to the magnitude of the subject ought to be the freedom of the debate. It is only in this way that we can hope to arrive at truth, and fulfill the great responsibility which we hold to God and our country. Should I keep back my opinions at such a time, through fear of giving offense, I should consider myself as guilty of treason towards my country, and of an act of disloyalty toward the Majesty of Heaven, which I revere above all earthly kings."

 - Patrick Henry, March 23, 1775

Go ahead, think about something controversial.  Better yet, read long and hard about it.  After you've examined both sides and taken a look at history, go on and do something about it.  Let's agree to disagree - passionately, candidly and thoughtfully.

Happy belated 4th of July,

Long live the land of the free and the home of the brave,

Little Miss Sunshine

A Year in Books

The are ways to measure a year.  You can measure it in days, in projects accomplished, in weight gained or lost, in children's growth in inches, in the ring of a tree, or you can measure it by the books you have read.  I can say with confidence that after a year in Australia, I am more literate than I was before I came.  SG and I have spent hours at the library, as well as plenty of time reading at home.  Alan Paton and Harper Lee are much more engaging than nights on the town, and cheaper, too.  Not only am I a cheapskate, I'm a nerd.  Be that as it may.

What follows is a list of what I read this year with a mini review that should help you decide whether you'd like it or not.  And don't you dare feel like this is exceptional or that you're under-read.  I have no children or husbands or even rose bushes, and this was a year with lavish free time for reading.

A Tale of Two Cities - Dickens

Absolutely deserving of its "classic" status.  The last few pages are a gripping insight into humanity.  It's not for the faint of heart, but the literary ascent is worth it. 

Student Ministry and the Supremacy of Christ - Ross

What started out as an assignment for a youth and family ministry course turned into a startling revelation of what God meant working with youth to look like.  Read it if you have kids, work with kids, or just want to know more about the whole "youth ministry thing". 

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society

This is the book you pack for the beach this summer.  It's a great light, witty historical fiction set during WW????????  It's the volume you pick up when you just want a good story to read. 

Short story from volume 3 by W. Somerset Maugham

What You Need to Know about Project Management - O'Connell

Don't even get me started on this book.  I think it should be required reading for anyone who has ever led a team, begun a project, or even thought about working in an office environment.  And by "begun a project", I mean anything - baking a cake, redecorating your kid's bedroom, getting in shape, improving your driver distance, whatever.  It's the most down to earth, accessible thing I've read on projects that could benefit CEOs or young moms.

What's So Amazing About Grace - Yancey

Yipes.  This book needs to come with a highlighter and a box of tissues.  Yancey takes on the world and attempts to show us the way Jesus means for things to be.  It will make you look differently at yourself, your family, and the world around you.  It will challenge you to see God the way He is, not the way the world would have Him.

The Promise - Chaim Potok

Be forewarned, it was written somewhere during the 70s or 80s, so it has that weird literary flavor from that period.  That said, the wandering through is worth the insight into Jewish culture as well as a fantastic plot twist ending.

Cry, the Beloved Country - Alan Paton

I borrowed this from a set of host parents we had.  What Paton has done here is written a heartrending story that gives us insight into South African apartheid and the human soul.  Read it. 

A Grief Observed - CS Lewis

This is no light reading; for that, see book #3, above.  Lewis looks grief in the face, having gone through it himself.  He writes about it without turning it to cold science or giving pat answers.  He allows the ache to reverberate along the empty hallways of the heart and leads us to a place where grief and hope are not mutually exclusive. 

The Death of a Salesman - Arthur Miller

Short.  Depressing.  Insightful. 

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time - Mark Haddon

I love Haddon's particular style of writing.  He writes masterfully from an often unheard point of view.  The book does have quite a bit of language, and I don't know if the story's quality is worth wading through it.  You can judge that for yourself. 

A Wrinkle in Time - Madeline L'Engle

By the end of this list, it will be no secret that I love children's literature.  I will confess that I hadn't read any L'Engle before this, though she is championed as a master of almost Lewis's caliber.  The plot was well woven, with only a few moments of awkwardly worked dialogue.

Little Women - Louisa May Alcott

So much better than the movie!  Alcott writes an excellent description of life during and after the Civil War.  It's a values book, so set your kids loose on this one, as well as yourself.  It's ageless.

The Soul and the Afterlife - Bill Thomas

A well intentioned autobiography meets philosophical treatise, this mini volume was written by an Aussie local.  Don't look to it for coherent arguments on the purpose of the cosmos.  It's more of a hopeful, though misdirected, pondering about the existence of lost loved ones.  [I recommend A Grief Observed instead]

Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad

This book is dark.  And weird.  And slightly hard to follow.  It's a jungle adventure meets psycho thriller.  It's interesting, but it's not in my top 5.

Hudson Taylor and Maria: a match made in heaven - John Pollock

READ THIS BOOK.  It's a well-written, accessible biography on the lives of Hudson and Maria Taylor.  Their story is absolutely beautiful and filled with hair raising adventure and sparkling faithfulness to the gospel.

As You Like It  - Shakespeare

I read this from a second story window sill overlooking the ocean, and I was laughing my head off.  Just make sure you get an edition with notes.  You'll love the escapades and comical scrapes the characters get into and the way goode olde Shakespeare ties up the loose ends.

Of a Boy - Sonya Hartnett

This book is too sad.  Don't read it. 

The Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald

I started this book because my friend, Mark, loves it.  It's a "classic" and full of all the glamour, internal anguish and romantic intrigue you'd expect of the roaring 20s.

Ender's Game - Orson Scott Card

Thank, Hannah, for telling me about this book.  Don't be fooled by it's kid book or sci-fi status.  This book deals with family, politics, and identity in a powerful way.  You might even cry. 

Tuesdays with Morrie - Mitch Albom

Mmm.  Mixed feelings about this book.  It comes highly recommended, which makes me want to like it more than I do.  Albom begins interviewing a former professor who is slowly dying.  He acquires plenty of good advice, but there is no ultimate hope.  Sad.  Interesting.  True to life.

The Hunger Games - Suzanne Collins

Ohmygosh the Hunger Games.  Here's the deal.  They're chock full of violence.  It's not graphic, but people are dying all the time.  It's an interesting commentary on government (whether or not Collins intended it to be).  The plot craft is excellent, and it will keep you reading.  You won't want to put it down, so don't start it unless you have some spare time.  Just remember, it's kind of a teen thriller - complete with eye-rolling teen romance.  For a sap like me, that's not a problem, but for some I hear it's a turn off.

The Tipping Point - Malcolm Gladwell

Dear Malcolm Gladwell, will you marry me.  Oh wait, you're old enough to be my dad.  Nevermind.  This was my first exposure to Gladwell.  WOW.  The man turns statistics and research into something useful and interesting.  This book is about how ideas spread and what makes trends catch on or die.  If you're interested in cultural epidemics, pop culture or networking, read this.

Catching Fire Hunger Games #2 - Suzanne Collins

Still chock full of twists and violence.  Still a seat gripping page turner (although it's a bit tough to grip your seat and turn pages).

The Communist Manifesto - Karl Marx & Friedrich Engels

I hope the people who still think communism and socialism are a good idea will read this book.  It's absolutely nuts.  I apologize for the less than eloquent verdict on this book, but that was my lasting impression.  It's short, but the language is a bit thick and archaic so it's slow going in some places.  Long live capitalism, at least for the sake of not having to be a wife held in common for the male population.  Ew.

Cannery Row - John Steinbeck

Slightly uncouth.  Raw.  Short.  Slightly puzzling.  Lovable.  This is only the second Steinbeck I've read, and I preferred it a thousand to one to Of Mice and Men, which I loathed.  The characters are wonderful multi-dimensional small town people with all the good intentions, complacencies, and malices that accompany small town people. 

The Last Battle - CS Lewis

I love Lewis.  I don't know how he can write so many volumes at a such a standard of literary excellence, but he does, and this is no exception.  Beautiful imagery, intense battle, good, evil, it's got everything you want.

A Swiftly Tilting Planet - Madeleine L'Engle

Although I felt there was a disappointing mischaracterization of unicorns, this continuation of A Wrinkle in Time was a fun read.  It's light, well written, and full of magic. 

The Silver Chair - C.S. Lewis

This volume predates The Last Battle and is just another reason to love C.S. Lewis.  An evil queen serpent monster, an underworld, spells, knights, giants, it has all the classic ingredients of a fairytale, but made modern by the presence of the Pevensie school children.

Mockingjay Hunger Games #3 - Suzanne Collins

I read this in one day.  I couldn't put it down.  When I finished it, I felt like I could get on with my life.  Whew.  Then I saw the movie and then I found out Gale is going to marry Hannah Montana.  WHAT?! NOOOOO!

To Kill A Mockingbird - Harper Lee

I love this book.  I love this book.  I love this book.  It deserves every accolade it receives.  Set in the South, it tells the story of civil rights in a way that breaks your heart and gives you hope all at once. 

Outliers: The story of success - Malcolm Gladwell

So you want to be successful, and you think you know what it takes.  Read this book and think again.  Gladwell traces the histories of groups of successful people, answering questions along the way like why professional hockey players are born in January, why Asian people tend to excel at math, and why you're more likely to get in a fight with a guy from Alabama than a guy from Michigan. 

The Pirate's Dilemma: how youth culture is reinventing capitalism by Matt Mason

Prepare to have a look at the pop culture underworld.  This is less about "Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum" pirates and more about people who use media illegally.  Mason considers how pirates challenge businesses to run more efficiently and effectively by their innovations and use of sharing.  I don't agree with everything he says, but he makes some interesting points. 

Love in the Time of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Don't read this book.  I don't care if someone tells you it's a classic. 

The Extraordinary Education of Nicholas Benedict - Trenton Lee Stewart

Read this book instead.  It's far superior, even if it never gains classic status.  Also, it's by a guy from Arkansas.  It's quirky, witty, endearing, and I loved it.

The Mysterious Benedict Society - Trenton Lee Stewart

Stewart doesn't disappoint here in his continuation of the story of Nicholas Benedict.  This time, he's grown and begun his own agency of brilliant children, who he enlists to help save the world from evil. 

Wonder Struck - Brian Selznick

If you saw Hugo in theaters, or read the book, this is a similar novel by the same author.  I don't know how Selznick does it, but he blends the illustrations and text so effortlessly as to make it one book.  I wasn't as impressed with the story line of this one, but the art is still fantastic.

Radical - David Platt

Read this book.  Read this book.  For heaven's sake, read this book.  Platt takes on the church, American culture, and many of our preconceived ideas of the Bible. 

Death Comes to Pemberly - PD James

Thanks to Stephanie who recommended PD James in one of her blog posts a while back.  James is a British crime writer who worked in the justice system for many years before sitting down to write her novels.  This particular one is a continuation of Austen's Pride and Prejudice.  The Bingleys and Darcys have settled down and had a few children.  Chaos strikes in the form of, you guessed it, Wickham and Lydia.  A bit plodding in parts, but a well written period piece.

Make 'Em Laugh, Make 'Em Laugh: a history of humour - Rick Coy

Hehe.  I did laugh a lot in this book.  It really is a history of humour.  Coy talks about what laughter is, what causes it, and the differences between genres of humor.  There are jokes on every page.  Most of them are clean, some of them are...not.  Warning, this book has language unfit for small children. 

Boys and Books - James Moloney

Love this book.  It has sections on boys and reading for every age, how parents can encourage their sons to read and what teachers can do to encourage reading in the classroom.  It's an easy read and worth the time.  Moloney provides a huge book list at the end with books divided into categories by age and genre.

Goat Boy - Peter McFarlane

This was an author I found on one of the booklists in the previous book.  McFarlane tells the story of a boy's relationship with his neighbor who has autism.  They set out on an adventure with the boy's cousins and father to the Australian wilderness and wind up in some tight spaces (literally).  One or two spots of colorful language.

Beasts and Monsters - Anthony Horowitz from the Legends series

Let your kids read this book!  Horowitz takes ancient myths and modifies them to be read and understood by children.  I loved it, and they're going to love it when they get to high school and have already encountered the characters of Oedipus Rex.

Just Do Something - Kevin DeYoung

Read this book twice.  The first time I read it, I liked it, but was frustrated by the seeming lack of interest the author implies God has for our decision making.  Then I read it again and heard more of what the author was saying  and less of what I was trying to hear.  It's short and to the point - 5 points, actually.  The man loves the number five. 

Artemis Fowl - Eowin (Owen) Colfer

Teen fantasy.  Yep.  It is.  Your point?  While I reserve judgment on Colfer as an author, I do like the style of this book.  Aside from being a bit odd (high tech fairies and primitive trolls), the story flow is great and the word craft is, as I said, engaging.  I'm not phoning the library to reserve the next one in the series, but I am intrigued by the idea of a 12 year old criminal mastermind. 

Shrinking the World - John Freeman

Read this book!  Part history of communication, part plea to a technology-obsessed world, Freeman takes on email as a wonderful invention whose dark side is ruining our lives.  He examines the acceleration of time involved in communication, as well as the idea of the internet self.  Well worth the read.  If you really must, start halfway through and read to the end. 

Battles and Quests - Anthony Horowitz from the Legends series

Another wander into mythology, this volume is similar to the other Horowitz title above.  Be warned, they are a bit violent, though not particularly graphic.  There are also a few scheming maidens who try to seduce brave knights and heroes.  Again, not graphic, but present.  Well written, and a good overview. 

The Plot of the Pyramid - Terry Deary

Short, simple chapter book for an age range of 7-11.  It's historical fiction set in Egypt around the pyramids.  I found this title on a list of books for boys, so there's dead rats and smashing bad guys and all that good boy stuff.

In no particular order…

Sunshine's Top 5 (during a year Down Under)

To Kill a Mockingbird

What You Need to Know about Project Management

Hudson Taylor and Maria: a match made in heaven

Ender's Game

Cry, the Beloved Country

So go read, already!

Little Miss Sunshine

The Year of Living Slowly

For a while now, I've been trying to figure out how to title this year.  I like titles, especially alliterative or allusive (or whatever allude's corresponding adjective is).  It makes it easier to categorize and store information.

Anyway, I've been looking for a title.  I've tried on The Year of Walking, The Year Down Under, The Year at the Beach, among others.  All these capture a large part of the year, but not to a satisfactory degree.  Tonight, sitting in my Sydney hotel room, it came to me in a flash…  an ironic juxtaposition.  This was, I think, A Year of Living Slowly. 

When we arrived in Australia, we didn't jump into an organized role.  We were the first of our kind at St. Mark's.  Slowly, we began taking on projects, saying yes to roles, and finding our place as the youth and families interns.  Culture was no different.  We didn't immediately infer the definitions to drongo, bogan, footy, and tucker.  Little by little SG and I added to our bank of cultural savvy. 

The two groups of people we worked the most with this year were old and young.  I don't mean old and young as a sweeping generalization for people of all ages.  I mean literally, people who are 84, and people who are 2.  Both of these kinds of people live slowly.  Walking beside Margaret or Joy at church means taking slower steps than my typical powerwalk.  They both use walkers.  Walking beside Flynn or Izzy means taking slower steps because their legs are shorter than mine. 

Eating meals takes longer in Australia because they still have vestiges of British culture.  Sometimes we start with soup.  There are slices of bread and dishes of butter.  That's followed by meat and veggies.  After you've tackled a plateful of roast lamb and pumpkin, don't untuck your napkin.  You can't have dinner without dessert.  It might be pavlova or passion fruit sponge.  After this, there's a cup of tea or coffee.  This isn't every meal in Australia, or I'd have gained ten kilos this year, but this gives you an idea of the time that is taken with food.

Storytelling.  Anyone who knows someone over 60 knows they usually like to tell stories.  Having lived much longer than SG and I, the people we go to church with love to tell us all about their adventures.  Let me tell you, they've had some doozies.  Traveling in Southeast Asia.  Teaching in one room schools.  Working for a Count (the royal kind) in France.  Working in apple orchards.  As you know, old people stories aren't usually confined to "when I was little, a dog bit my thumb off and my mother sewed it back on with her needle and thread, the end."  There's the hook, the background, the story, the punchline, and sometimes the moral.  It takes a while, but that's OK, this is the year of living slowly. 

We lived slowly by eating long meals, hearing slow stories, but it's also been a year of slow because we only just got a car.  Before that, we were afoot, or beholden (is that a real word) to other people for rides.  Sure, walking was slower and took longer than if we could just zip down to the church or the library or up to the high school.  It's also better for us, cheaper, and helped us get to know the place we were living.  You see more rainbows, pick more dandelions and hurtle puddles better when you're on foot anyway.

This year we were presented with circumstances that made living online more difficult.  The church internet was reasonable, but we'd have to walk there to log on.  The library internet was also free, but it's a further walk and has short hours on Mondays and Saturdays.  Three of the four places we've lived have had internet, but the house we're looking after right now does not.  This means we have a lot of time to read.  I know, it's not as visually stimulating as watching videos on YouTube or Tweeting that you just brushed your teeth, but I think it's been a #win for us. 

Even road tripping here has been slower than my usual experience.  A Sunshine family road trip (of which there were many) meant getting from Point A to Point B as fast as the speed limit would allow.  The jumbo bag of Jolly Ranchers nestled on the console next to the CheezIts.  There would be a drive through Taco Bell or sandwiches from the ice chest for lunch.  Road trips in Australia mean stops for morning tea.  If you're near a town, you find a café and order a cuppa.  If you're on the road, it means you pack a thermos.  Then there's lunch.  Don't forget afternoon tea.  This takes a while, but at least you're well caffeinated and have a chance to see the countryside. 

Watching God work in us and in people took time.  Lots of it.  Sometimes it was really frustrating.  Sometimes I wanted to throw things.  Why couldn't I learn and change quickly?!  Why couldn't Jesus just make people understand His truth right now?!  But He was working, slowly.  He was changing people from the inside out, in a way that wasn't always evident from the outside.  But there was change.  Even if it wasn't on my little schedule, God was here in Australia with us, teaching people about His glory. 

There you have it, a year in 10 paragraphs, or 11 when I finish this one.  I'm not the most patient person, and I think this year has been good for that.  We've taken our frenetic American college student impulses and buried them in the sand here in Oz.  I think it's been good for our blood pressure.  Summing up a year is difficult, but I rationalize that if I keep writing and representing it in different ways from different angles, you might just pick up on what a wonderful year it has been. 

Love from the slow lane,

Little Miss Sunshine

See ya, Sydney

Having toured and traipsed all over Sydney, we are now driving home through the country towns along the coastal road.  I will readily admit, I was never too keen to see Sydney, but so many people were thoroughly convinced it was a good idea, so I assented to the trip.  With Ian and Joan as our guides, it would have to be fun, whether or not Sydney was as fascinating as people said. 

We stopped in Canberra (can-bruh, remember?) and continued to Sydney the next day after seeing Parliament House and the War Memorial.  Upon arriving in Sydney, we checked into our hotel and set out in search of food, like nocturnal animals coming out to hunt in the jungle, except this was the urban jungle and we aren't nocturnal.

Anyway, we wandered into Chinatown and down a stairway following a neon sign that read "Food Court".  I can tell you're intrigued.  You should be, unbeknownst to us, we were headed into the black market of Asian food.  When I say Asian, I mean Asian.  There was Thai, Japanese, Chinese, and probably other "ese"s that I couldn't distinguish, being rather illiterate when it comes to Asian food. 

As for being the black market, that's mostly because it was downstairs, chaotic, and most of the small shops looked a bit dubious in the hygiene department.  I wandered around, weighing my options.  I decided deep fried or vegetarian were my best options for avoiding food poisoning.  I queued  up at a busy window plastered with pictures of Chinese dishes.  A girl wrote my order for vegetarian fried rice on a piece of paper, took my money and handed me a number.  After a few minutes, a plate came through the window heaped with fried rice.  Bingo.  Dinner.  Joan, Ian and Sarah, were sitting at one of the center tables and I ploughed through half of my pile of rice.  Sometimes you eat to stay alive, not because the flavor of the food compels you to eat.  This was an occasion of the former case. 

The next day, we toured the Queen Victoria building, an old market that's been converted into a shopping center.  We ducked into the ABC building and the Sydney Library (which used to be the customs building).  We bought tickets to go up in the Sydney Tower.  WHAT A VIEW.  Wowza.  I had no idea Sydney Harbor was so beautiful.  It has myriad nooks and crannies, most dotted with the masts of sailboats.  SG and I snapped off photos like it was going out of style.  We stopped for morning tea (of course) before walking down to the harbor. 

I didn't really know much about the Sydney Harbour Bridge before I came to Australia, and I had only seen the Sydney Opera House on The Amazing Race a couple of times.  Let me tell you, it's worth the trip.  Seeing the giant arc of the bridge over the sparkling water stops you in your tracks.  Just to the right is the Opera House, made to look like ship sails full of wind.  Taking the ferry from Circular Quay ("key") to Manly, we could see the bridge and the opera house from the water, which made me even more glad that I'd come to Sydney. 

We stopped for lunch in Manly at a little Italian sandwich café where I had the best chicken wrap I've ever had.  From there, we wandered down the beach and met some Americans.  It wasn't on purpose, but as we watched the group of high schoolers walk past, their Chacos and Nalgenes were a dead giveaway.  Ian marched right up to them and started talking, as is his custom.  We soon followed and found out they were a group of high school kids on a service/travel trip.  They asked if there were Outback Steakhouses in Australia.  I said no. 

The next day we set off for the Elizabeth Bay house, but it was closed, so we toured an apartment for sale instead.  We made a quick stop at the Cruising Yacht Club and toured the Kathleen Gillett, a historic boat with a great story.  We continued to Vaucluse House, owned in the mid 1800s by W.C. and Sarah Wentworth.  I like historic houses.  It gives my imagination a good workout, and I'm partial to architecture.  Ian took us to Centennial Park, a huge park in the middle of Sydney where their son in law used to work.  Being the 4th of July, I was determined to have a hamburger.  So I did, I even ate the beetroot, which comes on all good Australian burgers.  I had another hamburger today, but I'll tell you about that in a minute.

The next part of the story is on the extraordinary side of things.  Back when my mother was in town, we went on a road trip and ran into some students from the Hillsong College up near Sydney.  They said the Hillsong conference was to be the first week of July and we should come up.  That was around the time we were planning to visit Sydney, so I checked it out online.  When we got to the city, I phoned and asked for more information.  They said the evenings were free and the conference was being held in the Olympic Park. 

I wasn't sure it was going to work out, but Ian and Joan were willing to go with us, so we found the place using Ian's iPhone.  Now Ian and Joan go to church with us, but they are over 70, and not the sort of raise your hands when you worship over 70 year olds.  SG and I weren't too familiar with the doctrinal soundness of the Hillsong Church, only that they were a bit charismatic.  All this to say, we were a bit nervous taking Joan and Ian to Hillsong, but what the heck, the conference was on and we were in Sydney, of all places.  We could hear the music pumping walking over from the parking garage.  We hoped it wouldn't bother Ian's hearing aids.  We were a little late, but they found us some seats in the nosebleed section. 

The first thing they did?  Take an offering.  Who gave the giving spiel?  Joyce Meyer, herself.  Yes, she did get into a little prosperity gospel nonsense (if you give money to God, He will bless (pay) you right back), but maybe no one heard that.  They played a song and then some guy with a bass clef voice that sounded like he had laryngitis introduced none other than Louie Giglio.  What?!  Yeah, show up in Sydney and wind up sitting in the 2000 Olympic Park listening to Louie Giglio.  Pretty cool.  They ended with a beautiful hymn medley that we sang out lungs out to.  It is good to worship the God who sees.

This morning we had breakfast at 8 in Joan and Ian's room (the usual cereal and toast - Joan packed their toaster).  We were off down the southward coast road.  Ian saw a sign for a temple, so we stopped off at a huge Buddhist temple near Wollongong.  We wandered around, had morning tea and revisited the age old dilemma of Jesus being the only way.  (It's not really a dilemma, it's just less comfortable.) 

Not long ago, we stopped for lunch at the Bewong Roadhouse, where I ordered a hamburger more laden with trimmings than any I've ever seen.  As is customary of an Aussie burger, it had BBQ sauce, pineapple and beetroot.  It also had coleslaw, tomato, cheese, lettuce, bacon and a egg.  Oh, and the actually hamburger patty itself, though it might as well have been left off for all the other things that were on it.  It was a great spot.  If you're ever driving south from Sydney, plan to stop off at the Bewong Roadhouse.  It's a dive, and it's so worth it.   

That's all for now, folks,

Little Miss Sunshine, from her seat in the old Mercedes

Sydney Roadtrip 2012!

I'm sitting in the back of an old school Mercedes next to SG with Ian at the wheel and Joan in the passenger seat.  We're on the road to Sydney.  Matt Chandler is winding up a sermon in my earbuds and eucalypt trees are whizzing by.  We just left McDonalds (Maccas - read with an Aussie accent) where Ian got a chocolate thickshake and Joan and I got hot drinks. 

What the heck am I doing, you ask.  Oh, we're just on a little roadtrip with the host parents to Canberra and Sydney.  As an aside, Canberra (Can-bruh) is the capital of Australia and is located in the Australian Capital Territory (like Washington and the D.C.).  It is almost halfway in between Sydney and Melbourne because in the early days of settlement, the two cities couldn't agree on where to put the capital.  The political impasse was resolved by building a city in between.  While there are supposedly some beautiful government buildings there, Canberra isn't much to get excited about. 

The mileage sign just said Sydney is 562 kilometers away.  I don't really know what that means without doing the calculations.  We won't go to Sydney until tomorrow anyway.  We're staying with Ian and Joan's friends in Canberra tonight.  Someone's mother is supposedly cooking up a storm in anticipation of our arrival.  I think I'm going to like these people.

As far as travel conditions go, it's been a positively dismal day.  (Is that a contradiction in terms?)  Drizzly rain, gray clouds, the whole bit.  While I generally loathe this kind of weather, it makes for perfect rainbow hunting conditions.  While Victoria has much more rain than any place I've lived, it also has the most rainbows.  Not half an hour ago, we spotted a towering arch, reaching from ground to ground.  It glowed like a box of spanking new Crayolas.  Spectacular. 

We'll be up around Sydney until Saturday.  I don't know what all we'll be seeing, but Ian typed up an itinerary, which we may or may not stick to, knowing Ian.  Who knew I'd find myself hurtling down a freeway with some of my favorite 70+ friends on a road trip?!  Not me.

More to come,

LMS

                                                         Parliament House, Canberra

Men in Kilts

If you had asked me what I'd be doing in Australia, I can tell you with perfect confidence that dancing with men in kilts at a ball would not have made the list.  Yes, kilts and yes, a ball.  A Scottish Highland ball, to be perfectly accurate.  Our usual co-conspirators, Ian and Joan are always going on about their Scottish Highland Ball revelries.  Their old friends, the charismatic Col and lovely Marg had invited them to a ball similar to the annual one they attend.  I was tired of hearing about how wonderful it all was and decided I wanted in on the action.  Ian and Joan were keen to have us along, and with a quick phone call to Col, it was all set. 

We didn't exactly know what I'd gotten us into, but we decided it was worth "having a go" (a phrase that captures the adventurous Aussie spirit).  One day at playgroup, I mentioned to a couple of the moms that we were going to a Scottish Highland ball.  I asked their advice on what to wear (Joan had been so specific as to say "well, don't wear jeans").  It was a pity I'd sent home my dresses with mom, but thankfully, Suzi came to the rescue. 

Suzi is a mom who comes to playgroup with her daughter, and she offered to let us come play dress up in her closet.  She runs a vintage clothing stall at a market and is always smartly dressed.  When we showed up at her house, she brought us straight into the kitchen and made cappuccinos.  We stood around the kitchen and listened while she talked about God's goodness and providence in her life. 

After draining the last drops of caffeinated elixir, she showed us into her room where she'd laid out dresses from her closet and from her market stall.  I'm not talking about 3 or 4 dresses.  I'm talking about 15 or 20 dresses.  SG settled on a black dress with fluttery mini sleeves and dotted with pearls.  I chose the moonlight dress.  It didn't stop there.  You can't just go to a ball with a dress.  There's jewelry to be thought of and shoes and bags!  Suzi opened her treasure trove of necklaces, earrings and bracelets.  She picked out a few pieces each for us and assured us she'd bring the shoes and bags to play group the next week.  She was as good as her word and I had silvery shoes and a bag and SG had the same in black.  And they were fabulous. 

The days passed and suddenly it was Friday, the big day.  We started preparations an hour and a half before we were to be picked up.  Somehow, it got to be fifteen minutes until the ETD and we were still wearing the equivalent of pajamas.  I was mid-twist, taming SG's tresses, when we heard a "HULLO?" from the living room.  We exchanged looks of panic, I handed SG the strand of hair I was working on and put on my best hostess face.  It was the Matthews.  They wanted to see us all dressed up before we left with Ian and Joan.  We were still in our pjs.  They understandably asked weren't we supposed to be leaving at ten to six.  I said yes, and don't worry and all those reassuring phrases you use to tell people you're about to perform a near miracle.  I told them to entertain themselves and handed them the telly remote. 

I retrieved SG's dress from upstairs, finished pinning her hair, slathered my eyelashes with black gloop, and put on the moonlight number and shoes with rhinestones.  A few flicks of the wrist and hairpins later and the tresses were contained.  Not quite as good as a fairy godmother, but it would have to suffice.  By that time Ian and Joan had arrived and were chatting happily with the Matthews.  We emerged from the bathroom, quite different from our previously pajama clad selves.  Pictures were taken, and we piled into the Merc. 

The beginning of the ball wasn't much to speak of.  Some people were thanked and introduced, the pipe (bagpipe) band played and we met Col and Marg and their daughter Fiona.  Soon enough, they announced the first dance.  Joan and Ian were up and off to the dance floor.  Talk about grace in motion.  They've been dancing together for more than 50 years, and it shows.  Thankfully, Ian was keen to dance and took turns dancing with SG, Joan and I.  He's a great leader.  You might not know the steps, but you'll know well enough where you're going.  We also took turns dancing with Col, whose knowledge of Scottish dancing is extensive.  Some of the dances were progressive, which means you rotate through partners around a circle.  That's fun because you get to dance with everyone.  I've never danced with so many men in kilts.  There were plenty of jokes about what Scots wear under their kilts, but we won't get into that here.

This ball was not unlike a barn dance or a bush dance, except that the program was interspersed with a few ballroom numbers.  There was no caller running through the steps during the dance, but a man with a Scottish accent would bark into the microphone before the music started and introduce the dance and give us a quick run down of the set.  For those dances, it was fortuitous to be dancing with Col because he could direct if we got lost.  Dances ranged from something hearkening back to more refined balls (think Netherfield and Mr. Darcy) to good old fashioned Western barn raisings.  If a  waltz came on, you'd hope you were dancing with Ian, whose spiritual gift seems to be artful footwork and keeping time. 

There were several courses of dinner served in between sets of dances.  You had to eat in a hurry if you didn't want to miss a dance because your soup wouldn't still be there when you returned from the floor.  That's ok, as I'd rather dance anyway.  After several hours of whirling and twirling and do si do and waltz four sets, my feet were sending distress signals.  That was OK, because it was midnight and time to go anyway.  Luckily, Suzi's dresses didn't turn to rags at the stroke of 12, we didn't misplace any glass slippers, and we were able to sleep in the car on the way home.  When Ian dropped us off, there was no Mr. Carson to welcome us (Downton Abbey reference) or ladies' maids to help us out of our coats and undo our jewelry clasps.  Never mind, we managed without a household staff somehow and lived to write about it. 

Wishing you grace on the dance floor and decorum at the dinner table,

Little Miss Sunshine