Saved by the Tag

Friends are the greatest! I have been avoiding a real live post due to just some really hard things I am going through so my friends keep on saving me with great posts to recommend and games to play. My old standby for avoidance is also to blog about my kids. So now the secret is out. But sometimes when you are going through stuff (or growing through stuff) it is hard to put in words the whole of it until you have completed the majority if the process. And it is just so all consuming that it is all you talk about when you really talk. If that was too mysterious for you I do apologize. I hope you still like me and continue to read my blog. :-) I will get a real post up eventually.

My friend Becky tagged me. She goes by Rebecca now. We met in high school at which time we all called her Becky. Now she is a published author (no joke folks, I know a famous person) and so she goes by the illustrious name of Rebecca J. Gomez. She and her husband Jake - oops, um Jacob :-) - have three wonderful children. I was SOOOO happy to be able to spend some time with them last year on our furlough trip. We went to a pond in a park to feed the ducks and there was a huge water rat swimming around stealing all the pieces of bread we threw to the ducks. Oh yeah, and there were turtles too! Aside from the wildlife it was so great to just spend the day with my friend. That would be really great right now. I miss her very very much. Ok - tears in the eyes not good for typing - I will get on with the game. I love you Becky!

The rules:

1. Pick up the nearest book.
2. Open to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences.
5. Tag five(ish) people and post a comment to the blogger who tagged you.

"The Divine Conspiracy"

They find themselves beyond the limits of human acceptability. This is a fact about them, regardless of how silly it may seem. To say, "How silly of you!" is not exactly to bring Jesus' good news of the kingdom to them

I tag all people who want to play or who need to avoid real post. :-)

Recommendation

One of my friends that I have gratefully reconnected with after more than a decade thanks to the wonderful world of blogging posted something that I think everyone should read.

I met Amy in Botswana (that is in southern Africa) in 1996. She and I were “the engaged girls” on the Teen Mania summer mission trip. We lost touch until last year. Now she is married, has a boy named Silas and has a little girl on the way due very soon. Their family is a testimony of the faithfulness of God. They will be moving to South Africa this summer. You can read her past posts to know more about this sweet family.

Here is the link:

http://expectantandbeyond.wordpress.com/2008/04/20/making-me-matter/

You will not be disappointed.

Doing What They Do

My ten year old trying her hand at oils for the first time. She is an artist. Her preferred style of expression is pencil drawing. But anything pertaining to creative arts is her outlet. She loves dance, music, painting, crafts, clay, sewing, drama, making books and whatever else she can do to create.


My eight year old doing a word find. These or sudukos are his choice these days. Anything that is building or constructing he enjoys as well. I am amazed at what he can do with his legos and other building sets. He is a thinker.


My six year old doing her lessons in school. She is a worker. She says to me, "Mama, I want to work hard in school today." Her undaunted approach to tackling problems is inspiring. I am wondering what God is going to do with her life. It will be amazing to see, I am sure.


My eighteen month old licking a book. So far he has tasted: deodorant, hand lotion, crayons, bubbles, all the furniture in the house, door handles, books, and seat belts. I can't complain because this flows over into his eating of actual food too. He will eat anything!

This was a glimpse at what my kids like doing. What did you do today that was YOU?

Oil

So while a sweet gal from the church watches my kids and cleans the bathrooms for me this afternoon I head out to get the oil changed on the truck. Little errands like these are fun for me. Mainly because I get out of the house and see new things.

As I am driving up to the car place I see a paint store. “Perfect,” I think to myself, “Raimy needs to have some of that stuff that you rinse your brush out with when you use oil paints for an art project she wants to do.” I tell the guys at the shop everything he needs to know about the truck and head out the door. It is a beautiful day and the little walk is very nice. I passed: a couple fruit stands, a bread shop, some other oil change places, some corner markets, some car parts shops, some bicycle repair shops and a place that sells lawn sculptures. Then I come to the paint store.

The guy is helping another customer at the counter. I go up and explain to him that I need the stuff you use to wash out brushes when you are using oil based paint. This is not an art supply store, just lots of big paint buckets and big brushes around. So he gives me the normal response, “We don’t have any of that.” Knowing that was not true I explained once again. This time he said, “We don’t have that. But we do have…” And now I am going to phonetically write what he said: TEE nair.

One strategy I have developed in understanding Spanish is that sometimes the brand names and the newer technical terms keep their English spelling and are just pronounced in Spanish. So I listen to the way they say the word, picture how that would be spelled in Spanish and then read that word in my head in English. So this would be the Spanish spelling for the word he pronounced: Tiner. The letter ‘h’ is silent in Spanish. So I make the connection and understand he is referring to: thinner! He has paint thinner! Perfect for my little daughter in her first attempts at an oil painting.

So I ask how they sell it. They come in half liter or one liter. How much is the half liter? Six Bolivianos, the equivalent of about 90 cents. I’ll take it. He walks over to some large plastic jugs with screw tops down behind me. He crouches down and begins filling a personal size empty Sprite Zero bottle with thinner. He screws the lid on and hands me the bottle. I give him the money and chuckle as I walk away. I am carrying paint thinner in a half liter Sprite Zero bottle! That is just funny to me.

Excerpt "Breathe Easy"

This is the first chapter in my book Breathe Easy. I wrote it with the mind to connect Latin women with their Heavenly Father in a relationship that provides freedom from vice, addiction and sin.

CHAPTER ONE

The Woman

Intrepid she quietly made her way into the room. Many years of intimate interaction with human baseness had given her an austere and detached demeanor. Yet the group in the lofty hall noted a contrasting contentment on her face that did not coincide with her seductive stride. Unannounced a less observant participant may have easily mistaken her for one of the servants serving the meal. Yet all eyes were quickly drawn to the woman as she fearlessly approached the guest of honor.

But why would anyone have feared the great teacher? Surely he commanded attention by the authoritative way he spoke. Even children were drawn to the attractive way that he looked into the eyes of those he spoke to. In the past this woman did have reason to fear. Her former profession had gained for her the well known reputation of a popular but despised member of society. Her ungodliness had separated her from his deity. But those were things of the past; a not so distant past that seemed like ages ago. Things were going to be different now. She approached the teacher with her head drooping down causing her long hair to cover her face. She ducked away from his line of sight and positioned herself just behind the reclining figure. Now her gaze met his and she saw the same captivating eyes that were calling her from captivity; those eyes that poured forth such a mix of justice and welcome.

As she bowed low the clank and chatter of the meal slowed and finally stopped. Everyone watched in a solemn hush what this woman did to Jesus. The only sound to be heard were repressed sobs emitted from deep within the woman’s soul. She wept at his feet. The soul could not contain the emotion and it came spilling out in the form of warm salty tears. Her inclined posture causing the flow to run down on the master’s feet. If her eyes had not been clouded over by her tears she would have noticed that his feet were uncommonly dirty from waking around the dusty city. Little did she know that it was her own soul that was being cleansed as the filth dripped away from his feet to the plush cushions on which they rested. The crying subsided as this worshipful woman knelt. Not yet lifting her head she realized that she had wetted his feet and thus began to wipe them with her dark locks that hung down. As if to apologize and show her submitted heart she repeatedly kissed the now clean feet. Drawing from the folds of her robe the object of her intent in coming to this private gathering she began to pour precious ointment on the wearied feet.

She had known that he would be there. The gossip had traveled fast. Jesus would be dining with Simon the Pharisee. Her heart skipped to know that he would be in her town. She had heard of him, of the great miracles and wonderful teaching he brought. She had even heard his message personally. She had heard the words he spoke and they were like cool rain after a long dry summer. And now he was so close to her! Could it be her opportunity? Could this be the chance she had longed for? So long she had suffered under the weight of her affliction. So long had she heard the jeering and hissing as she walked through the market. She was known for her sin. There was no denying it. But now there might be just that small glimmer of hope to put that past behind her. Maybe this man brought the answer that would calm the torment that raged within her, maybe, just maybe. She had to act fast. Seeking out the most valuable thing she could she enclosed it in her robes and headed for the prominent home of the Pharisee. Possibly the precious ointment had been given to her by one of the wealthy dinner guests as payment for an intimate encounter. Nonetheless it was the best she had to give.

Her hands trembled slightly as she took the top from the box of alabaster. The ointment inside now seemed trite next to the magnificence of the man. But she had to express some kind of sacrifice of honor and respect. As the glistening liquid poured forth from the box and began to cover his feet the woman felt a deep sensation of release from her soul. Yes, this was the right thing to do, the only thing she could do; and more than that the best thing she could do.

The silence was broken when Jesus opened his mouth to speak. She had heard him before and now listened intently. Yet his words were not directed to her but to their host, Simon. Simon had been surveying the scene with mixed emotions. He had been so proud to have a renowned prophet grace his presence by accepting the invitation to dine with him. And now he was embarrassed and indignant that such a renowned sinner had also chosen to intrude. But then his pharisaical mind began to fixate on the validity of his guest. Was he really a prophet? If he really was who he said he was then he would know that this woman was a sinner. Why would he continue to allow her to touch him so? If he knew the truth then he would never allow it. This logical reasoning racing through his head was stopped abruptly by the calm yet commanding voice of the prophet on trial in his mind. Leadingly Jesus said, “Simon I have something to say to you.” Simon might have thought that Jesus was going to ask him to have the woman removed. He did not know that Jesus had been weighing the matters of the heart of the woman and the heart of his host. In his intellectual yet simple way Jesus presents a sort of riddle or enigma.

“Two men were in debt to a banker. One owed five hundred silver pieces, the other fifty. Neither of them could pay up, and so the banker canceled both debts. Which of the two would be more grateful?” Jesus asked.

Simon answered, “I suppose the one who was forgiven the most.”

“That’s right,” said Jesus. Then turning to the woman, but speaking to Simon, he said, “Do you see this woman? I came to your home; you provided no water for my feet, but she rained tears on my feet and dried them with her hair. You gave me no greeting, but from the time I arrived she hasn’t quit kissing my feet. You provided nothing for freshening up, but she has soothed my feet with perfume. Impressive isn’t it? She was forgiven many, many sins, and so she is very, very grateful. If the forgiveness is minimal, the gratitude is minimal.”

Then he spoke to her: “I forgive your sins.”

That set the dinner guests talking behind his back: “Who does he think he is, forgiving sins!”

He ignored them and said to the woman, “Your faith has saved you. Go in peace.”[1]

Thrilled her heart began to sing. The shame dropped away, just as a heavy cloak slides off the shoulders when the constricting tie is loosened from the neck. She was forgiven! Everything was wiped clean. Jesus himself had spoken directly to her telling her that her sins were forgiven. Then, what a compliment he gave her, this honored teacher; he commended her faith! Her faith, seemingly insignificant, was expressed in her solemn act of reverence. Yes, this is what she had hoped for. And it had been granted: salvation. Saved from the sin. Saved from the guilt. Saved from the heavy load. Saved, really, from herself. She could finally breathe easy.

First forgiveness, then salvation and finally peace were bestowed upon a once despised life. Go indeed. Yes, she would go and be in peace. Her whole existence submerged in that peace.

~

This story is true. It was true for the precious woman that had come to the end of her own self and found her only hope in Jesus. And it continues to be true for anyone who would choose to believe that Jesus can set them free from any and all oppression. Freedom is extended to the hopeful heart. Whatever it is that is pressing down upon you can be removed and forgiven. Jesus can forgive you. Faith in Jesus can save you. Jesus can give you peace.

“A woman in the city brought an alabaster box of ointment, and stood at his feet behind him weeping, and began to wash his feet with tears, and did wipe them with the hairs of her head, and kissed his feet and anointed them with the ointment.”

“Her sins, which are many, are forgiven; for she loved much.”

---

[1] Portions of this story were taken from The Message by Eugene Peterson.

Tagged by Jackie

This is a tag prompted by Jackie.

I usually don't do tags. But Jackie is a new friend - so in the spirit of good sportsmanship I decided to play along. :-)

How to play:
1. Go to http://www.photobucket.com/
2. Type your answers to the questions in the “search” box.
3. Use only the first page.
4. Insert the pictures into your Blog.

1. What is your current relationship stat? (Married)

2. What is your current mood? (blasé)

3. What is your favorite band/singer? (none - meaning I don't have one)

4. What is your favorite movie? (Far and Away)

5. Where do you live? (Cochabamba, Bolivia)

6. Where do you work? (At home, mostly)

7. What do you drive? (Our friend’s truck – yeah!)

8. What do you look like? (smiley)

9. What is your favorite TV channel? (I don’t watch T.V. much)

10. Describe yourself. (wife, mama, missionary)

11. What are you doing today? (Church, lunch, rest, church)

12. What did you do last night? (watch a movie)

13. What is your name? (Angie Washington)



You can play if you want.

Killing Taste Buds

A theory that I have been testing was proven last night by my eight-year-old son when he said, “Mom, it’s just that the food is too tasty,” as an explanation as to why he was unable to eat his dinner.

Here is my theory: one of the purposes of parenthood is to successfully kill as many taste buds as possible.

This task should be completed before the child reaches the age that he or she can completely embarrass the parents in the presence of guests or hosts with a rude squishing up of the nose, the disgusted shudder, the eyes widened by terror and the phrase of doom, “Ew! What is that? I don’t like it!” Followed by a reddened face, a nervous giggle and the strained smile on the part of the parent as he or she says to the child with a flash of a death threat and then back to the clenched, forced grin, “How do you know you don’t like it if you haven’t even tried it?” The sing-songy fakey tone that the parent has employed confuses the child at first and then they quickly realize that no command has been given and the game has begun. This is nothing more than a fun test of wits like in checkers or battleship. A retort is given; unchecked. Child 2, parent 0. The counterattack is a sharp squeeze to the thigh of the child from the parent under the table as a plea for silence. Usually the issue is dropped at this point and another person at the table excuses the child and changes the subject. The parent tries to regain composure and wonders where they went wrong.

All disciplinary discussions aside the problem lies in the fact that these parents did not kill enough of their child’s taste buds when they had the chance. It is a scientific fact that a newborn baby has taste buds covering the whole inside of their mouth: the tongue, the roof, and the sides; everywhere. As the child grows little by little the buds slough off. It is also a fact that our taste buds can die and lose the ability to sense a taste. Once that bud dies there is no regeneration. That is why when you burn your mouth on a cup of hot drink it takes the whole day, if not two days to get complete feeling back to your tongue. They are sensitive little buds. (These facts also lead me to believe the reason Starbucks is so successful is that they are strategically killing their client’s taste buds so there is no diminishing return factor to deal with, but that is another post.)

So as parents we must bombard our children’s tongues with as many different flavors and varieties of foods as we possibly can. Don’t be so fanatical in this venture that you damage the child’s mouth. But do put forth the energy to make your children eat their food. Do not settle for a graham cracker and cheerio diet. No! You have some taste buds to kill!

New Email

Gmail was the overwhelming choice. I made the switch today and feel great about it. Still getting to know Outlook. Thank you for all your input. :-)

Email Server Advice

For years I have been using Juno email. It is time for a change. Little by little I have been making the change to use my Yahoo account. But before I make the big ‘announcement’ of a change of address I wanted to do some shopping.

Here are my three questions for you to answer

1. What Email server do you use?

2. Pros and cons to your server?

3. What server would you recommend for my needs (listed below)?

What I am looking for:

a. Free or very economical price

b. Compatible with Mozilla Firefox browser (Juno is not)

c. Composition options: message from sender in reply, attachment capabilities, etc.

d. Storage for sent and received messages

e. Address book with filing and grouping capabilities

I haven’t started using Outlook. My husband does and he likes it. My average email load is about 20 a day received and about 10 written. So it is pretty easy to manage. In the future this will increase and I may need to use Outlook, so I would like the email server to be compatible with that too (maybe they all are and I just don’t know because I haven’t researched it).

I think it is so cool when people have their name or the name of their organization in their email address. (fake ex: angie@christnationministries.org) Is that something that you can do with any server? Or are there certain servers that provide that option? How do they do that? Any advice you have in that area would be great too.

Thanks for your input!

Ingrained

A fall is not when you contradict your knowledge
A fall is when you topple off the ledge of professed omniscience
Is what you know all there is to know?

Goodness is… propitiatory
Happiness is… secondary
Love is… primary

Questions are… revelatory
Children are… celebratory
Rules are… regulatory

To be doubted… my premonitions
To be trusted… love’s intentions
To be dismissed… my hasty conclusions

Self-perception… under construction
Self-ambition… eternal satisfaction
Self-indulgence… vehicle acceleration

Music moves… my feet
Art moves… my heart
Beauty moves… my soul

To change is to survive
To grow is my pursuit
To learn is to live alive

The AM

Yesterday this:
Hope deferred maketh the heart sick… (Proverbs 13:12)

Today this:
… but joy cometh in the morning. (Psalm 30:5)

This:
My voice shalt thou hear in the morning, O LORD; in the morning will I direct my prayer unto thee, and will look up. (Psalm 5:3)

And this:
Cause me to hear thy lovingkindness in the morning; for in thee do I trust: cause me to know the way wherein I should walk; for I lift up my soul unto thee. (Psalm 143:8)

The long and short of it is that the prospective house help came to the house on Monday, I showed her around, explained the job, we talked about hours and pay and together we decided that she would start Tuesday at two. Two o’clock rolled around, 2:15, 2:35, 3:00 and still a no show. I call the number she gave me and talk with her sister, who is clueless. Then the work I had been saving (so I could train her how to do it) I had to do. It wasn’t the work that upset me. What upset me is that this is not the first time this has happened and it causes me to over analyze everything.

So what am I going to do if she decided to show up today? Good question. I will know when and if the moment presents itself.

Things look brighter now. Thanks to all who sympathized with me, I really appreciate it.

While we are on the topic of the morning… some of my morning sounds:
Cars in the busy street we live on
Airplanes over head
Husband moving about
My kids playing
Venders opening the market
Children rushing to the school in front of our property
Our pets asking for breakfast
Birds
Staff watching DVD bible school courses
Kids in the orphanage praying as I hang my clothes on the line

What is the best part about your morning?

Drama Queen

WARNING: this blog post will be overly dramatic. Things will be looking better in the morning.

These are my eyes this evening full of weariness, contempt, disillusionment, hurt and disgust. Oh, I do so want to believe in people and take them at their word… but who am I kidding?

This is the hot chocolate with three big marshmallows that I used to drown my sorrows. This, of course, after spending all afternoon washing, scrubbing, cooking, cleaning and tending to the house alone.

(pluckiness will be following after I am done wallowing…)

Happenings

Just some bullets to let you know what has been going on:

Finished writing my book Breathe Easy

DaRonn returned from Chile on Saturday

Hired a Christian house help gal

Trying to figure out Tyler’s new affinity to licking deodorant

Gabrielle taught Tyler how to say, “Hello-wah”

What odd thing did you eat when you were a kid?

Funny Fruit - Granada

“Look my tongue is purple!” Raimy greeted me at the gate of her friends’ house where they had passed the afternoon. Promptly she went on to explain that they had been sucking on ‘granada’ fruit. The English term for this historic fruit is pomegranate. The boughs of this full bushy tree growing beside their house were decorated with dozens of pinkish colored balls of fruit. There are hundreds of bright red seed pods inside this fruit. You scoop up a bunch and put them in your mouth. Squishing them around the seed pods burst open and you swallow the tart juice then spit out the tiny cream colored ‘pepa’. And your mouth is tinted purple. Pomegranates are common trees to have in your yard here in Cochabamba.

For an interesting history of this word click here: pomegranate etymology

Necessary Edification

In Spanish Ephesians 4:29 reads like this:

Ninguna palabra corrompida salga de vuestra boca, sino la que sea buena para la necesaria edificación, a fin de dar gracia a los oyentes. (Reina Valera 1960)

You may be more familiar with the verse in English:

Let no corrupt communication proceed out of your mouth, but that which is good to the use of edifying, that it may minister grace unto the hearers. (King James Version)

The verse in Spanish expresses my thoughts on this subject most clearly. Here is my understanding…

Not one word that is corrupt should be allowed to escape your mouth; rather that which is good for necessary edification, with the end goal to give grace to those who hear you. (Angie’s paraphrase)

In Spanish the noun ‘building’ is ‘edificio’ and the verb ‘to build’ is ‘edificar’. In English a building is also an ‘edifice’. So now we can look into this phrase: necessary edification.

The words we say can corrupt or build. Think of the foundations of a building. If rot, rust, infestation or other such corrupting elements set in the building will be unsafe to use and might even topple over. Our words can do that to the lives of others.

There is no middle ground here. Necessary edification indicates that the words we say can be the life line that another person needs. You can build the life of another person. Compliment and you are laying the concrete. Bless and you are laying the bricks. Your encouragement is necessary for those who hear you. First for the person you try to build up and next for the people who overhear you encouraging and imitate your efforts.

Pick a person to intentionally edify with your words. Trust me, they need it. Then come back and tell us how it went.

One Chapter More

My wonderful husband bought a book for me about writing fiction called “The Lie that Tells a Truth” by John Dufresne. So I am finally in the last chapter. In his chapter about writing dialogue he addresses the motives behind why we communicate. Do any of these apply to why you post or read blogs?

Now, we all know there is no comfort in small talk, no solace in chitchat, no substance to idle jabber about the weather or mutual acquaintances. So why do we do it? We talk with each other for various reasons: to inform, to compare, to seduce, to clarify, to cloud, to charm, to deceive, to alarm, to evade, to demur, to bedevil, to reassure, to offend, to warn, to befuddle, to flatter, to belittle, to thank, to bluster, to rattle, to arouse, to soothe, to illuminate, to apologize, to inquire, to amuse, to brag, to inspire, to order, to explain, to encourage, to dissuade, to convert, to argue, to process, to instruct, to vent, to accost, to excuse, to call attention to ourselves, to hear the sound of our own voices, to be polite, to pass the time. But when we talk to understand, to understand ourselves and what we’re doing or what we think we’re doing and why we’re doing it, then we tell each other stories. Stories are how we remind ourselves who we are and how we’re connected. Stories are sacred and communal like a burial and the gathering after it.

While we are on the topic of chapters… Thanks to two marvelous women from the church I had four completely uninterrupted hours of time at my home to myself today. I cannot remember the last time that this happened. So I decided to get some heavy work done on the book I am writing. Can you believe I wrote four chapters and have just one left to write? Then the final tweaking and it is done. I am so excited.