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Oh, just 3 young virtuosos playing some bluegrass in their bedroom.  Nothing to see here.

brothers Johnny, Robbie, and Tommy

Matt and I stumbled across these guys the other day.

I smile watching them.  So fun!

Behind the technology curve

I admit that I'm a little behind my generation when it comes to technology.

Multiple remote controls give me a headache.

Now in some ways, I feel quite proficient and speedy.  I finally own my very own Iphone (and am comfortable with it!), I know how to use dropbox, I can type well, copy and paste with (not to brag) pretty amazing speed, and maneuver my way around various programs for professional and personal use.

However, there are some things that escape me.  Actually, it's not that I can't understand them; it's just that I haven't gotten around to learning some things.  I'm a little lazy with learning things that I don't need to know, until I care to.  And sometimes I don't care for a long time.

But then I get a little embarrassed when my sudden desire to know springs up and makes me look the archaic fool.

Take today, for instance.

We're in our cozy living room, me grading, him studying.  A regular, quiet Saturday.  Boring, perhaps, to some.  But I felt content.

Me - Do you mind if I turn on the radio? (walking towards the armoire which houses our stereo, which I still call the "boom box") 

Him - The radio?  Liane, we have the internet where you can listen to anything you want at anytime.

Me - Oh, okay, let's do that....(long pause)...How do I do that again?

Him - (smiles and hangs his shaking head, then looks up, still smiling) Liane! You're stuck in the nineties!  The radio.  Want to listen to some UB40 and Ace of Base while you're at it?

No, no I do not.

I just want to turn on my boom box.

I don't understand God's kindness

Before I share these recent stories about God's kindness, my hope is that His goodness is what is highlighted, not my prayers or moments of right thinking.  But HIS GOODNESS, which I'm still trying to understand.  Perhaps when I'm a parent, I will understand His good gifts better than I do now.

Story #1
A couple of weeks ago, I was looking in my towel closet at our dingy, detergent stained bath towels.

And I found myself saying, "Lord, I know this isn't that important, but would You make a way for us to buy new towels?"

To be clear, I do not see God as a genie.  But I feel totally free to express my desires to Him and then leave them in His capable hands, knowing that whatever He decides to do is for my good and His glory.

The next day, I got a package in the mail.

I was confused when I opened it and saw our wedding program and a congratulations card. Then I saw a BedBath&Beyond gift card! along with the sweetest and sincerest note of apology from one of our wedding guests, stating that she was mortified when she found the unsent gift while cleaning up around her house.  Matt and I will celebrate our 7th wedding anniversary in a couple of months.

The wedding gift we got in the mail...7 years late.  But perfectly timed.

It's just towels.  There's child slavery in the world.  And the Lord heard (and cared about) my request for towels. I don't understand His kindness to me sometimes.


Story #2
A week later, Matt and I headed to the beach to spend some time with his family.

Our connecting flight got delayed, then cancelled due to weather.  We managed to fly stand-by on a later flight and reached our destination.

My suitcase, however, did not reach our destination.  It remained in our connecting city, but we were assured that it would be on the first flight the next morning.

No biggie.

So I went to bed in my airplane clothes and anticipated my bag coming.  Fortunately, I had traveled in a casual, comfortable, long dress.

The next morning, I checked my bag's status.  It was still in the delayed city.

I called the airline and was told there were several flights the bag could be put on, and it would likely come at some point today.  As an optimist, I figured, "It'll be here in a few hours, tonight at the latest, I'm not gonna sweat it.  I can endure anything for one day."

So I went down to the beach, still in my long dress, and soaked up some rays on a beach chair.  The sun felt nice, and I was content to be out there for awhile.

Then I got hot, and having no other desirable options, I went inside.

That's when I started to miss my bag, for a change of clothes or a swimsuit or my hairbrush. Something to feel comfortable.

I proceeded to check the status of my bag periodically for the next several hours, discovering that my poor suitcase had not made it on the first 5 flights out that day.  Then I was told that over 2,000 bags were stuck in the wrong cities due to all the delays and cancelled flights. My optimism took a little hit at that news.

The day wore on.  No bag.  We ate dinner.  No bag.

I started to think about a handout I saw at church recently about source idols.  And I started thinking that perhaps God was trying to expose a comfort idol that I have.

In the meantime, we enjoyed sunsets like this

And Matt took this cool picture of the sand after some rain.  And I marveled how God knows how many grains of sand are on all the beaches.  And I thought about the fact that He saw fit for my suitcase to get lost. 

I vacillated between having a good attitude and one of quiet (but real) frustration.

My healthy perspective inner record would play this:  "There's child slavery in the world...There's child slavery in the world...There's child slavery in the world...This is a first world problem...I have all my limbs...Thank you for my limbs, God....I have my hair...Thank you for my hair, God...I have no real reason to complain...We are with our family who loves us...the fact that we're even ON a vacation is reason to be grateful....I am not a victim of human trafficking....I am not a victim at all...This is a first world problem...Wow, the ocean is really pretty...Thank you, God, for your beautiful creation..." and so on.

And then in moments of weakness, my bummed perspective inner record would play this:  "Shucks, some of my favorite clothes were in that bag....And the hair dryer that Matt just got me....And all my toiletries....I don't want to have to replace all that....It stinks being at the beach without my swimsuit....I want to play in the water....I could just go get one...but what if my bag arrives?....And to add insult to injury, my journal and favorite Bible were in that bag, so I can't even process my frustration the way I feel like I need to....I'm so frustrated right now!...Maybe I do have a comfort idol...Is it so wrong to want my stuff?...Liane, it's just stuff...I know, but it's MY stuff and I want it....I want to fully enjoy this vacation and not be tied on the phone with the airline the whole time..."

I went to bed that night in my airplane clothes again.  By this time, we had at least replaced some toiletries, because, well, hygiene is important.  But I was hesitant to replace clothes, etc. since I kept thinking my bag was going to arrive the next hour.

Before going to sleep, I cried out, "Lord, please help me see this rightly. And respond rightly. I don't want to be dependent on my stuff for happiness, but I'm super frustrated right now and starting to loathe this stupid dress.  I need to see your kindness in this.  Please show me your kindness in a new way.  I believe You ARE kind.  I know your kindness does not necessarily equate my comfort.  It does not demand my comfort.  Help me to see Your goodness in this."

And I did.  More than I expected to see.

Ways God showed me His unexpectedly lavish kindness:

• The next day, Matt and I headed to Target (Thank you for existing, Target) to get me a swimsuit and change of clothes.  While there, I got a phone call from some dear family friends who happened to be in the same beach town that week and insisted on meeting up with me to give me some "birthday money."  (My birthday's in April.)
• My suitcase was finally delivered to where we were staying.  Nothing was missing or broken.
• The airline agreed to extend our travel day by 1 day at no extra charge and offered to reimburse us for interim purchases.
• On the flight home, Matt and I both somehow ended up in first class.

Living in the lap of luxury in first class.  What am I doing here?!
A completely unexpected surprise.

treats!

Are you kidding me, Jesus?  I just wanted my bag back.

I didn't know how to process it all.  I think I may have uncovered that l have a comfort idol.  But then He goes and makes things extra comfortable for me?

I don't understand His kindness.

The giant rodent on our Mexican vacation

This Cinco de Mayo, I transport myself back to the beach to relive the Med School Moon to Mexico we took last summer - a "last hoorah" get-away, if you will, before starting the long, loan-riddled journey that lay before us.

Sure we could have saved that money to go towards our med school expenses, but we saw it as an investment into our marriage.

Well-aware that it may be our last beach vacation for awhile, we soaked it in.  I am very grateful we went.

Ahhh.  I feel myself relaxing.  I hear the waves.  I smell the salt water.

I want to go to there

Imagine my delight when I discovered my favorite snack was available at every. single. meal.  Bliss!

I'm fairly confident that I could contentedly live off a steady diet of chips and salsa.

Ole!

Unfortunately, this image comes scuttling across my memories as well.

This here is...how you say?....a capybara (a.k.a. the world's largest rodent). 

The reason he comes to mind is because I awoke on my beach chair to find one of his family members sniffing around in my beach bag (!)  The top of his furry back was inches away from my hand.  (cue scary music)

After a quick glance down to see what I was dealing with, there I sat, frozen, eyes wide, staring ahead, while nearby European tourists looked on and giggled.   The giant, man-eating creature then proceeded on his way, but not before walking directly under my beach chair. (I felt the hump of his back going under my chair - ewwwww!!!!)

When he was gone, I turned to those European tourists who were snickering good-humoredly and asked with concerned eyes, "WHAT WAS THAT?"  They explained in thick accents that it was a capybara, quite harmless, and that he and a few of his friends often roamed the garden of the resort from time to time.  I asked if it bites. They assured me that it is actually gentle and friendly.

I don't care if it's philanthropic and discovers a cure for cancer, I don't want to see one at the beach when I'm on vacation.

I think that my intense disdain for rodents developed from a childhood trauma that involved me finding a dead possum (or is it opossum?) (and now, come to think of it, was it really dead? ah!).

Is there anything more vile than a possum?

The story goes like this:  I was 8 years old and dutifully doing my chore of sweeping the garage.  I had strapped on my roller skates to make the chore seem more fun (reminiscent of Pippi Longstocking), even though I'm pretty sure it took me 5 times longer to finish the chore.  It turned out to be really difficult to balance on wheels and sweep effectively.  But I told myself I was beating the system and having fun, so the skates stayed on.

my childhood chore inspiration

Aaanyway, with broom in hand, I skated my way over to one corner of the garage and saw a hideous possum (which I mistook as a rat), threw down my broom, and ran/rolled/tripped inside screaming bloody murder.

I adore my dad.  He's one of my all-time favorite people.  But he made a parenting error here and sent me back down to the garage where he told me to "Sweep around it."   So I did.  But make no mistake, a dark cloud veiled my heart that day. 

And thus, my scarring fear of rodents.

I later learned that some people (who clearly did not have a childhood rodent trauma) keep capybaras for pets.

 

And with that, I think this post is complete.

Happy Cinco de Mayo!

My Bucket List

I like to think about eternity, and sometimes I long for heaven - to be rid of this world and be with my Lord in person, forever.

Buuuut, I'm not there.  I'm here.

My older brother once told me that only 3 things last forever:  God, God's Word, and people's souls, and that I need to invest myself in all three.

I believe this.

That said, while I'm here on this Earth, I decided to make a little bucket list of less important things I would also like to do.

Here be that list (in no particular order):

1. Visit NYC (I've never been!)

2. While there, see a Broadway show

3. Own a real camera and learn how to use it

4. Go skydiving (Matt isn't comfortable with me doing this, but I'm hopeful he'll warm up to it)

5. Repaint a piece of furniture

6. Acquire an impressive collection of classic British literature, read them all, and display them on beautiful, built-in bookshelves

7. Have children

8. Can something (like pickles)

9. Globe trot with Matt to Europe and Southeast Asia 

10. Grow a successful garden

11. Run a marathon (nah)

12. Master the moonwalk

13. Paint or draw something that I would be glad to hang in my home

14. Start a school

15. Get Lasik

16. Find cool things at thrift shops and relish in my savings

That's it for now.  Perhaps some of these are overly ambitious, others not ambitious enough. 

It is what it is.

I figure I'll be adding new items to my list as time goes by and as I (hopefully) accomplish some of these things.

Everybody plays the fool

There's no exception to the rule, listen baby 

It may be factual, it may be cruel, I ain't lying 

Everybody plays the fool

Sing it, Main Ingredient.

So I left my car lights on not once, not twice, but thrice in a two-week span.  The only good thing about it is that I just got to use the word "thrice."

An all too familiar sight lately

My excuse is that my Honda's lights are so so quiet (shhh) when I click them on that it doesn't even register in my auditory memory that they were turned on in the first place.  And in the soft morning light, when it's not super dark to clearly see that the lights are still on, it's easy to forget.

Excuses, excuses.

Why do I even turn them on in the not-that-dark morning anyway?  I think it's because I see other people driving around with their car lights on and think I'm supposed to do it too.  Peer pressure.  Or would this be mass psychology?

Here is how The Car Light Saga unfolded.

The first time:  "No big deal, everyone makes mistakes," I think to myself.  Call Matt up to hook up the jumper cables, done.

The second time:  I feel a little more embarrassed.  "Oh, Liane.  What's going on, girl?", I say (out loud this time) to myself.  A co-worker did the jumper cable honors.

The third time:  No words.  Just shame.
Fortunately, I had already thought to move the jumper cables from Matt's car to my car since I would probably be the one needing them, given my track record.  Self-fulfilling prophecy?

I was at my school working again, this time in the evening, no co-workers around.  I just couldn't bring myself to interrupt Matt's study time again to come and bail me out.  Since my school building is also a church, there are often non-school people around, which I was hoping for.  I didn't see any cars parked around me in the back lot so I walked to the other side of the building and found some cars in the front lot - a sign of people! (thank goodness).

After wandering the building for a minute, I found these people.  In a room down the hall. Clearly in the middle of a powerful intercessory prayer meeting.

Hmmm.  Do I interrupt this?  Should I wait until it's over?  When is it going to be over?  Maybe I should join in?  Standing at the door, I sheepishly piped up:  "umm?  Excuse me?  I'm so sorry to interrupt.  Can someone jump my car?  It's dead.  I have my own jumper cables.  Again, I really am sorry to interrupt...."

It was a little awkward.  But a kind man came and helped me.  I couldn't tell if he spoke much English.  So I smiled a lot.  And gently nodded a lot.  And said "thank you" a lot.  (I notice I tend to do this smile/nod/repeat the same words routine around foreigners.)  When Black Beauty (that's my car) was up and running again, I pulled away with another smile and nod and "thank you" and headed back to the Tree House.

Home sweet home.  Matt doesn't need to know about this, I concluded.

And then, a few days later, I did it again.  It's true.  Feel free to judge.  Four times leaving my lights on.  Four. 4!  Enough is enough!  A co-worker (different one this time) came to my rescue.  I thought it best to switch it up/rotate the people I ask help from, so that the same person doesn't think I'm a complete dingbat.  However now, I have let everyone know (or at least all 4 of my blog "followers") as an act of catharsis.

Needless to say, I felt flawed and forgetful and embarrassingly irresponsible (although quite adept at using jumper cables now).  I also felt like I was living a lie, because Matt only knew about the first two times.

I brainstormed with myself some possible solutions to my bad habit and eventually realized that with all other areas in my life, when I want to remember something, I WRITE IT DOWN (grocery list, sermon notes, to-do list, journal...).

 So, I wrote it down.
And I am glad to say that it has WORKED!  No fifth time for this girl!

Sometimes, you just get tired of playing the fool.