Hello, Tuesday

We love Tuesdays.  It's our day off.  Don't get me wrong, we love going to "work" (play with kids, teach Bible stories, talk with 93 year olds), but days off are welcome.  Yesterday, our socks were on by 7:20, shoes by 7:30 and we were running for our lives.  One of the many things I appreciate about SG is that she's a runner.  I run, but most days I wouldn't consider myself a runner.  SG, on the other hand, is a fabulous runner, and is patient enough to drag me along whenever I like.  So we ran. 

This was followed up by a stint in the library nestled in the kids' section (the grownup section doesn't have bean bags).  Right now, I'm reading A Swiftly Tilting Planet  by Madeleine L'Engle.  It's not bad, but I look at it as sort of an ugly stepsister to anything C.S. Lewis wrote.  She has some good ideas, but her wordcraft isn't as effortless.  I know, I'm biased. 

Speaking of books, can we take a break in our regularly scheduled blogging to talk about The Hunger Games?  I know, you've all read them and seen the movie, the hype's ebbing and you're tired of hearing about it.  But really, over here in small town Australia, I'm languishing away because book 3 is still checked out at the library!  AHHHHHHHHHH.  Do you hear me?  Lang-uish-ing!  Collins is a wonderful plot crafter, to be sure.  While I question her liberal use of violence and nakedness to get her point across, there is no question that at least the first two books are cliffhangers of a narcotic sort. 

How do we approach well crafted novels that have objectionable content in them?  The violence is not seen in a positive light, but more of a necessary evil, and one that becomes quite common as the Games progress.  Teenagers killing each other with their bare hands in order to survive.  How much does that become modeling for teenagers and young adults reading the books?  What process do we undertake to encourage free speech and great authorship while still being aware of the impressionability of kids' minds?  Let me know if you have any great ideas.

Back to Tuesday. 

When library time was over, it was coffee time.  Coffee time is usually a daily ritual, but only on Tuesdays does coffee time take place in a café.  SG and I are tightwads, to put it succinctly, so we generally only indulge in buying coffee on Tuesdays.  We've tried almost all of the cafés on the main street, which is quite an achievement.  This week, we chose poorly.  In this café's defense, it's brand new, and there's still a bit of unfinished construction in the back corner.  As noted in the previous post, the lattes were unremarkable.  Coffee aside, we made use of the internet and booked our trip to Queensland.  Frequent flyer miles, here we come. 

We couldn't stay at the café too long because we had an afternoon engagement.  Pastor John had commissioned George and old Ian (not to be confused with big Ian and Ian P) to show these uneducated girls Chariots of Fire (yay, running).  George picked us up and Ian met us at George's.  They've been friends for 20 years.  They're both remarkable, kind, wonderful old men who deserve to have books written about them.  We all sat in George's living room and watched the movie, turned up to full volume because Ian's going deaf.  Afterwards, of course, was afternoon tea.  George made the tea and then brought around rocky road fudge, short bread, and caramel slice (favorite!).  Such a great way to spend an afternoon!

On the way back from George's, SG fished the grocery list out of her bag and we split to do some grocery battle.  Back at the house, we unloaded the tahini, honey, eggs, and heaps of produce we plan on using in our week's menu plan.  Yes, we meal plan, you can be impressed. 

Zucchini safely in the fridge, we set off to Joan and Ian's (Ian P) for dinner with the Africans.  I use the term African, not in an ignorant way, just as a short cut for saying they were from Zimbabwe, Angola, Malawi, etc.  Joan and Ian are excellent hosts and had invited a dozen engineers studying for a month at a local university for dinner.  I ducked out early to play on Chez's basketball team in place of Eliza, who's currently on her honeymoon in Vietnam. 

Basketball.  I quit basketball after basketball camp when I was 8 and discovered I couldn't dribble.  I took it up again informally in high school and for one season for intramurals under my brother's coaching.  That said, I don't have much going for me.  I don't know very many of the rules, hardly any strategy, and I can't shoot.  Oh, and I'm short.  The one thing on my side is I'm aggressive and fouls don't worry me too much.  The team we played was short and quick.  They were aggressive and worked together pretty well.  I got the ball a couple times and passed it off straight away.  I think I still have a slight fear of dribbling.  That aside, I did get my first chance at making a free throw.  Although I had to ask which line I stood behind, I missed the first shot and nailed the second.  We lost by one point.

Back to dinner with the Africans, where SG was playing co-hostess along with Ian and Joan's son in law and grandson.  I got there just in time for dessert.  Perfect.  At the end of dinner, everyone said goodnight and thank you with various renditions of blessings in their heart language.  We shook their hands and they piled back into the bus with the Chinese bus driver who always brings Ian and Joan's international visitors from the university. 

We caught a ride home with Ian's son in law and promptly went to bed. 

Goodnight, Tuesday, it's been fun.

Little Miss Sunshine 

Run Away

I want to run away.  I hope she's forgotten.  I think of falling asleep, rendering me ineligible.  The weather looks inclement.  There is no way I could do it.  To me, not trying is much more appealing than trying and failing.  This is much too big.  Impossible thing she is asking me to do.  She is perfectly capable.  Me?  Forget it.

And.  Yet. 

She didn't forget, as I'd secretly wished.  I didn't fall asleep, as I'd schemed.  My inner conqueror is disgusted.  Of course I could do it.  It was only a matter of putting step in front of step, knowing and believing it was not an impossibility. 

So we leave. 

Needtobreathe, TobyMac and B.o.B close at hand, dear Nikes tied in double knots.  There is the trailhead with the hill and the exposed tree roots.  You have to watch coming down by the storage shed, the sand is an easy spot to turn an ankle.  The gazebo.  Trotting through the park.  She says we should go to barefoot bowling sometime at the lawn bowling club.  She's listening to Ben Stuart, arms swinging rhythmically back and forth.  I'm listening to TobyMac, trying to forget about my legs, attempting dance hand motions without throwing off my groove.

Shrubs, trees, glimpses of beach.  People with dogs, other pairs of runners, walkers.  They serve as little distractions to the big task that is slowly being accomplished.  She asks me for ten more minutes.  I feel good, minus my feet being asleep, so I say yes.  Eventually, we make it back to the house.  I am alive.  The insanity didn't get the best of me.

This is just physical challenge, but what of other impossible things?  What of a doctorate or a book written or a garden that provides produce year round?  Are they impossible the way this is?  The way this is slowly being done, step in front of step?  Is the obstacle to doing something with your life not inability but lack of faith? 

In the biography of Hudson and Maria Taylor I'm currently reading, faith is a constant theme.  Not ever advertising financial need, and thought of as crazy for doing so, Taylor wrote after being criticized for living from hand to mouth, "Yes, from God's hand to my mouth.".  During even a crisis of this great faith, Taylor prayed, "Thou, Lord!  Thou shalt have the burden.  All the responsibility lies on thee, Lord Jesus!  I surrender.  The consequences rest with Thee."

He has parted the Red Sea, healed the sick, fed thousands.  What more of a sign do I need to assure me that He is trustworthy?  When He says Go or Stay or Get out of the boat and walk on the water, He can be trusted. 

Challenged to stop running away,

Little Miss Sunshine