Lost

Lauren and I were spending the day in Portland, combining business with pleasure as we're so talented at doing. To hit only the highlights, you would think it was a charming, uneventful day: drop siblings off where they are reenacting, visit Schuback's Violin Shop, wile away two hours at Powell's bookstore (with Stumptown coffee in hand), pick up a few groceries at Trader Joe's, have a late lunch at The Old Spaghetti Factory, and then pick up siblings and head home. 

Except we got lost. Horribly lost. Multiple times.

When I got my license, GPS was not a commonplace car accessory, so I learned to manage with MapQuest (I have a horrible sense of direction). But in recent years, I've been spoiled with a talking device that tells me when and where to turn and even recalculates like magic when I take a wrong turn. This time, however, Mama was using Mabel (our GPS), and bereft of our gadget and even a simple street map, Lauren and I did the best we could with our printed MapQuest directions (neither of us are quick to jump on trends, so we also didn't have the aid of a smartphone). Did you know that MapQuest doesn't recalculate? Or tell you what you did wrong? Or help you detour around construction? Our day ended up looking like this:

1. Drop siblings off.
2. Take a wrong turn, but get back on track within five minutes, and arrive at Schuback's.
3. Spend 30 minutes driving the 3 minute trip to Powell's (no, there was no construction or traffic).
4. Uneventful drive to Trader Joe's--hooray!
5. Spend 60 minutes driving the 9 minute trip to Spaghetti Factory (there was construction, but that only added five minutes to our trip), including getting on the wrong freeway, ending up in the wrong part of town, making a lucky guess to get back in the right part of town, driving back to Powell's (where we KNEW where we were) three times, and discovering that Portland's streets are in alphabetical order in NW Portland.
6. Take a wrong turn, but get back on track within five minutes and pick siblings up.
7. Uneventful drive home--hooray!

Remarkably, Lauren and I did more laughing than crying, and we weren't horribly late to anything. Even with the ludicrous amount of time spent off the beaten path, we still had a delightful day.

I couldn't help but think of all the times when I feel just as lost in life as I did that day in Portland. When every moment seems fraught with stressful decisions; the road ahead is foggy and imperceptible; the directions seem unclear; and even my fellow sojourners don't know the way. But if life is a journey, it is certainly not a trip through a maze of big-city streets, where the destination is solely dependent upon my navigational skills! 

Life is much more like a voyage: I and every other Christian are traveling in an immense ocean liner, steaming to the edge of the world. Our passage was purchased by the blood of Christ, and our destination is heaven. Certainly, the web of hallways and decks and rooms are daunting, and we often falter, finding ourselves separated from our fellow Christians and seemingly from the Captain Himself. But we have only to go back to what we know to be true (hint: prayer and Scripture!), before all is right again and we are walking in Truth and Light. Yet all the while--even when our heart races and our stomach fills with the familiar dread of being in unknown territory--the Captain has never abandoned us. We neither leave the ship, nor are we truly lost. Even in the moments when we find ourselves in a dark pit in the deepest bowels of the vessel, we are still cruising at maximum speed for heaven. 

Hallelujah! 


Photo Credit 
Photo Credit
Photo Credit
Photo Credit

Mum's Day

 

"Mother's Day is really about God, because celebrating Mother's Day means that you are celebrating that men and women are created differently by God and that children are a blessing and that those children should be honoring and blessing their mother." --Mr. W. in our church's Mother's Day sermon

We get some of the best sermons on Mother's Day and Father's Day, and this year was no exception!

Jonah, Melanie, Lauren, Mama, Mikaela, Susanna, and Micah

 

We spent the day together as a family, rejoicing in each other's company, reflecting on the immense blessing of our mother, and reveling in God's beautiful creation.

At the Elk Rock Garden of the Bishop's Close, we scampered up rock stairs, thrilled at tiny delights of dwarf trees and succulent gardens, and ran breathlessly between the rain drops.

Jonah

We found a room in the rock wall...

Mel

...and a room made out of this incredible wisteria!

Susanna

What is the meaning of this?

The shocking realization!

Sisters: Mikaela, Lauren, Susanna, and Melanie

Chelsea Clinton was recently asked in an interview, "Your mother has been an extraordinary champion of women's issues. Do you call yourself a feminist, too?" To which she replied, "Of course. And everyone I know is a feminist." What a narrow circle of friends! I'm thankful to know both feminist women and feminine women. And perhaps because I do know both, I'm even more grateful that my mother has embraced her calling as a wife and a mother--a truly feminine and strong lady. She has taught me that God created men and women different and that we have different roles and different purposes, but neither gender is lesser than the other. I can't think of any better reason to celebrate my mother and every mother on Mother's Day!

Micah

Father and son

The paths dripped with abundance, and the little hills rejoiced on every side (Psalm 65:11-13).

God is good all the time; it was a good day.

My Pleasure

“Most of them want to come for reasons other than serving or helping, so I require something of them. Those kids have money to burn and closets full of designer clothes!” I overheard a friend talking about his ministry to the homeless in Portland, OR. Of course, my conscience contentedly patted me on the back—I had gone to help him this past fall, doling out hot breakfast, warm clothes, hygiene essentials, encouraging words, and friendly smiles for four hours in the pouring rain.

My friend, however, wasn’t done. “So, there’s a few junior-highers that still come every month. And you know what they say to me when we’re done? ‘I had fun.’ And I think, ‘I didn’t bring you out here to have fun! I didn’t want you to have fun! Tell me you were shocked or humbled or embarrassed—but don’t tell me you had fun!’” He paused a moment to consider. “Maybe these kids can’t be shocked anymore…maybe ‘I had fun’ is the only way they can express themselves.”

 

I moved on, but my thoughts stayed on this conversation. I could have just as easily been one of those flippant teenagers saying, “Thanks! Watching five year old homeless boys come out of the woodwork to get a hot meal was fun! I had a great time!” In fact, I could remember many serving opportunities I had judged by the measure of enjoyment they provided.

We insincerely say “it was my pleasure” as if our entertainment is the highest compliment we can pay to another human being, when it is often just an indicator of our sinful hearts. In this egotistical, self-centered, instant-gratification society of ours, we seek one thing above all others: amusement. The US spent $10,632,527,005[1] (yes, that’s BILLION) on movie tickets alone in 2009—and that doesn’t even begin to include the total entertainment budget. As the world becomes increasingly humanistic and men fall on their faces in awe and worship of themselves, the highest fulfillment—the greatest compliment—the most rewarding purpose has become fun. We are becoming “lovers of pleasures more than lovers of God (II Timothy 3:4).”

 

A commercial I recently saw was advertising a website with thousands of movies available for instant streaming. “In fact,” the geeky guy exclaimed as he touted his company, “It would take you an entire year to watch all of the titles we have available!” Then he got a dreamy, far-away look in his eyes (or maybe it was just a dumb, idle stupidity—I couldn’t tell). “That would be the best year of my life.” Everyday, men and women pursue the fleeting sensation of fun—and this cotton-candy-like experience claims costly, nonrefundable hours of one’s time. Time, though, is pocket change compared to what many people sell to fuel their addiction: their souls.

 

So what is a Christian to do? Shun all movies? Live like a medieval monk? Read only the Scripture? Boycott Monopoly? Ultimately, of course, we must come to terms with Hebrews 11:25: “Choosing rather to suffer affliction with the people of God, than to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season.” John Piper offers a practical and sobering suggestion too: "think about your death. Think about your death a lot....I think about the impact of death, and what I would like to be found doing, and how I would prepare to meet him and give an account to him (see the endnote to read his excellent article in its entirety).[2]" When we have chosen to suffer with God’s people and shun sinful amusement, then we can enjoy a balanced diet of wholesome “fun.” Psalms 35:27 says, “Let them shout for joy, and be glad, that favour my righteous cause: yea, let them say continually, Let the LORD be magnified, which hath pleasure in the prosperity of his servant.”

However, may we remember in all our doings and prosperity to say first and foremost, “Thou art worthy, O Lord, to receive glory and honour and power: for thou hast created all things, and for thy pleasure they are and were created (Revelations 4:11).” Therefore, the next time you go out to brighten your corner, consider changing your typical “Oh—it was my pleasure!” to something more profound and honest. It’s not all about you, and it’s not all about fun, but it certainly is all about God.

 

This is a repost of an old favorite.  I hope it was a blessing!

[1] http://www.the-numbers.com/market/2009.php
[2] http://www.desiringgod.org/ResourceLibrary/AskPastorJohn/ByTopic/13/3907_How_can_I_break_free_from_an_addiction_to_entertainment/
Picture source: http://trappedinh4mess.files.wordpress.com/2007/09/chained.jpg

A Fairy Tale Evening

 Months in the making.  Careful saving.  Eager anticipation.  Dress purchasing, outfit planning, ticket buying.  All for our first Broadway musical: Beauty and the Beast.

January 15th was the date, and fifteen of us slipped on our finest gowns or outfits, fitted on our most uncomfortable shoes, and carefully curled our hair. 

From l-r: Melanie, Lauren, Susanna, Mikaela

 Sarah was the mastermind, and we all gathered at her house to take photos and carpool to the performance in Portland.  The play didn't start until 7:30, but we arrived at 5:45 for good measure. 

Froml-r: Jo, Hannah, Rachel, Sarah, Grace, Benjamin, Emily

Cameras and smiles flashed, and we could hardly believe that the night we had been waiting for for so long was finally here!

Kaytra and Titus, sweet sister and brother duo!

Two of our group were to meet us in Portland, so unfortunately we didn't get photos of them.  This, however, is the rest of the group.  As soon as the flash died on this photo, everyone dashed to don coats, grab purses, locate GPS's, and load into the two minivans (ahem, limos) we were taking to Portland.  We were driving our van, so half the group piled into it, and then Mikaela turned the key.  The sound of the classical music station cheerfully filled the car, but there was no whirring of the engine.  The car was dead! 

Current time: 6:00

Curtain on the play: 7:30

We decided that one of the guys should try turning the key, since they sometimes have the magic touch, but it was to no avail.  We prayed with all faith, grabbed the keys, and tried the ignition, but still there was no sound!  The hood went up, but we soon realized that even if we succeeded in starting the van, we didn't want the battery to die again in Portland.  So Benjamin heroically stepped in to drive his family's twelve passenger van in downtown Portland, and half of the group piled out of our van into his. 

(Rabbit Trail Alert: Jumping the car did nothing, and we spent the night with Sarah and family as planned, but then Papa drove down Thursday morning to tow the green van home.  From this experience, however, we have learned a moral: when you purchase a van, and the person you are purchasing it from does not know the code for the anti-theft device in order to pass it on to you, be aware that even after 10 years of owning said van, the device may accidentally get bumped and prohibit the car from starting in an endeavor to restrict thieves.  You may then be required to tear apart the dash in order to cut the wires and enable your van to start again.  End of rabbit trail.)

We finally pulled out of the driveway, made it to Portland, and found parking near where the GPS said the auditorium was. 

Current time: 7:05

We met the last two additions to our group and trouped down to the auditorium, only to discover it was the wrong one!  A kind security guard informed us we had eight blocks to go, whereupon we girls glanced ruefully down at our high heels and started power walking regardless! 

Current time: 7:15 

At 7:27, with only three minutes to spare, we arrived panting, flushed, and thrilled at the auditorium.  In the last half hour we had been asked if we were going to prom several times, which only elicited laughter from us.  We were handed our programs, found our seats, and sat back to watch the story unfold. 

Photo Credit

The moment when Belle walked out in her iconic yellow dress was breathtaking!  Although there were a few things that we didn't like about the play, it was as a whole very sweet, amazingly well-done, and an experience of a lifetime!  It followed the Disney version of Beauty and the Beast in general, but offered several new songs and also added several endearing scenes. 

 

When the play was over, and we were done with our standing ovation, we retraced our eight block hike, chattering about the sights we had just seen the entire time, and headed to the Rimsky-Korsakoffee House, a quirky place where all is not as it seems and we had been forewarned not to go the bathroom alone. (!)  Sure enough, when the younger girls headed upstairs to the bathroom, we soon heard shrieks pealing down the stairs, and we soon had our own experience when we went to see for ourselves.  But I'll say no more, for I wouldn't want to spoil the surprise should you end up there someday!

The place was eccentric and charming, with each table having the name and photo of a different composer under the glass.  The menu of delicacies didn't take itself too seriously, either, with several options crossed out, and a few chocolate spots precisely placed to guide you to the most delicious options. 

 On that magical, beautiful evening we made memories together that will last a lifetime.  Mikaela, Sarah, and I finally rolled into bed at 2 in the morning, so we woke up groggy and exhausted the next morning, hardly prepared for our busy schedules ahead.  Nevertheless, we all knew we wouldn't have traded anything for the dream-like night we went to see Beauty and the Beast.  And it just wouldn't have been the same without a dead car and an adventure in finding the auditorium, now would it?

How It Came to Be

"Sorry, we're sold out," the lady in the glass hexagon told us. Lauren and I both stared at her, hoping that the longer we stood there, the greater our chances that the answer would change. Finally, we turned away and stood under the marquee, murmuring about our options.

"I'll go inside," Lauren decided, "and see if they have any tickets there."

"Okay?" I answered, highly skeptical that the inside ticket sellers would be hoarding tickets when the outside ones were empty handed and apparently oblivious. "I'll stand out here and look pathetic."

Joshua Bell is one of the great violinists of our time--do not be deceived by his disarmingly youthful good looks. He is forty-four and has been a serious violinist since the age of twelve, having now recorded over two dozen albums, in addition to movie soundtracks, received the prestigious Avery Fisher prize, and been appointed Music Director at my favorite orchestra, the Academy of St. Martin in the Fields. So one might imagine the ecstasy of Lauren and I on our sweltering August birthday last year when our parents and siblings gave us each a ticket to experience Joshua Bell playing the Shostakovitch Violin Concerto (changed in the last month to the Brahms Violin Concerto) with the Oregon Symphony.

Snow was the last thing on our minds.

Nevertheless, as the monthly countdown melted into a weekly countdown and then into days, the weather report obstinately insisted that snow was predicted for the Northwest. We were all nerves, anxiously hoping our special day would not be snowed out. Sure enough, Sunday dawned cold and white, and though we made it to church safely, Mama was decidedly uncomfortable with the thought of Lauren and I driving to Portland on our own. At this point, our dear Papa volunteered to take us, reluctantly deciding that he could spring for a $45 ticket (the cheapest available at this late date).

Through relatively excellent road conditions we drove, making it to the beautiful Arlene Schnitzer concert hall in downtown Portland, where Papa dropped us off to investigate tickets while he began the arduous task of locating a parking spot. And yet, we were immediately informed of this terrible news that there were no more tickets available. I felt glum and melancholy as I stood outside the Hall, knowing that Papa would cheerfully brush off the fact that he had taken the long trip to bring his daughters to Portland, only to sit in the car or a coffee shop for 2 1/2 hours waiting to drive them home.

I turned to look at the entrance, watching people flood the doors with white and orange tickets clutched in their gloved hands. I didn't have to worry about looking pathetic--it came quite naturally. A coupled moved in front of me, blocking my view.

The man held up his ticket in the air. "I have an extra ticket," he began loudly. I was right there, and I jumped and exclaimed, "Yes!" I had been lost in my own world, not thinking about him, not preparing to pounce. But in the split second after I had reacted, two men behind the ticket benefactor also jumped forward to claim the ticket. Truly, the Spirit had prepared and prompted me, for I was now the rightful possessor of one $62 ticket, gratefully pouring out my thanks to the couple and explaining the situation.

I pulled Lauren out of line, and we jumped around gleefully, waiting for Papa to walk up so we could pretend we had spent $62 of his money on a ticket. The concert, which included not only Joshua Bell and his own genius cadenza, but also Handel's Music for the Royal Fireworks, and two Oregon Symphony premieres, one a Baroque piece--The Battle--by Adriano Banchieri, and the other a gorgeous Sinfonietta by Leos Janacek, was breathtaking. Joshua Bell was astounding. Meeting Joshua Bell was exhilarating. And going out to coffee afterwards with Papa was delightful.

Yesterday, as Lauren and I rested in the snow from our sledding endeavors with the kids, she asked, "Did you think why God sent snow?"

I paused, blank faced, thinking about the allegories of snow and purity and the wonderful application snow can have on our spiritual lives. But as Lauren explained, I realized what she meant. We bemoaned the snow and worried about its coming all week, hoping and praying the God would keep it at bay so we could attend our much-anticipated concert. God, however, had a much more magnificent plan in store for us. Even as Papa agreed to come, wondering where $45 would fit in the budget, God had it all worked out. And then, when the ticket lady told us they were all sold out--that was God's providence too.

Lauren showed me this passage that had come to her mind about Sunday:

"By the breath of God ice is given,
      And the broad waters are frozen.

 Also with moisture He saturates the thick clouds;
      He scatters His bright clouds.

 And they swirl about, being turned by His guidance,
      That they may do whatever He commands them
      On the face of the whole earth.

 He causes it to come,
      Whether for correction,
      Or for His land,
      Or for mercy.

 'Listen to this, O Job;
      Stand still and consider the wondrous works of God.'"

~Job 37:10-14

Such a small thing really, but oh so precious to me. I rest confidently in my God, knowing that each turn of events in my life are for my good and God's glory.

Scripture taken from the New King James Version. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson,
   Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Biblio Files

This weekend involved many highlights, from scrapbooking to gardening classes with Mama to the premier of a song by a new composer (and friend) to spending a lovely few days with our friend, Sarah. Sadly, I have no pictures to prove the weekend's existence, so I decided to focus on one small, short aspect of our time: Powell's Books. Seeing as the name alone strikes me speechless, allow me to copy their own description from the website:

Powell's City of Books is a book lover's paradise, the largest used and new bookstore in the world. Located in downtown Portland, Oregon and occupying an entire city block, the City stocks more than a million new and used books. Nine color coded rooms house over 3,500 different sections, offering something for every interest, including an incredible selection of out-of-print and hard-to-find titles.

The City's Rare Book Room gathers autographed first editions and other collectible volumes for readers in search of a one-of-a-kind treasure.

Every day at our buyers' counter in the Orange Room, we purchase thousands of used books from the public. Powell's purchases special collections, libraries, and bookstore inventories as well.

A few facts about the City of Books:

• 68,000 square feet packed with books
• we buy 3,000 used books over the counter every day
• approximately 3,000 people walk in and buy something every day
• another 3,000 people just browse and drink coffee
• our parking garage provides space for 40 cars (ok, so there are bigger parking garages)
• we stock 122 major subject areas and more than 3,500 subsections
• you'll find more than 1,000,000 volumes on our shelves
• approximately 80,000 book lovers browse the City's shelves every day, in Portland and via the Internet. So is our mother ship the world's largest bookstore? Hey, it may be bigger than your whole town.

While we were there, we eagerly picked up one find: Spring Came on Forever by Bess Streeter Aldrich who wrote one of my favorite books of all time, A Lantern in Her Hand. We looked at slim paperbacks of poetry by Christian poet Christina Rossetti (for the record, there is a disproportionately large amount of cute people in the poetry aisles). We searched for E.P. Roe, a rarely read author in the 21st century whom we discovered from our grandmother's book collection (start with Opening a Chestnut Burr if you want to try him). We also drooled over Gene Stratton Porter, Margaret Sidney (of The Five Little Peppers and How They Grew fame), marvelous editions of The Last of the Mohicans, centuries-old books by Saint Augustine, and gorgeous antique books in French (we couldn't read a word, but they were beautiful!).

Many years ago, we bought a book we had never heard of (What Katy Did, written in the 19th century by Susan Coolidge) at Powell's. After reading the book, though, we knew it was going to be a staple on our bookshelf. Coolidge unravels the tale of a rambunctious, awkward, quick-tempered girl who is the oldest of six motherless children (their father and aunt tend to the bunch). Katy loves her siblings and sincerely wants to guide them, encourage them, and be patient with them, but her own unthinking self always seems to get the better of her noble desires. Through a series of devastating events, however, Katy grows up and learns how to be best friends with her own siblings.

If some of these favorite authors and books are ones that you have yet to read, I highly encourage you to check them out! You may not be blessed to live near Powell's, but where there's a bibliophile, there's a way!

Shop Around the Corner

Lauren and I reached the seven-foot tall ebony-colored door and tugged at it to no avail until Mama came and rescued us, opening the door and letting us inside. Our world changed.

Outside, dozens of cars raced by, honking, revving, sputtering, and clattering. Inside, however, as the heavy wooden door swung shut behind us, sweet strains of violin music came from a back room, along with the twanging of strings resistant to tuning and the occasional striking of a tuning fork to hear the perfect 440 A. Smells of wood, leather, and varnish faintly perfumed the air. And the sights! Oh—the sights! Tall, panes of glass filled the front wall and looked out onto Portland, allowing great shafts of sunlight to filter inside, illuminating rosin dust floating in the air. Violins and violas lined every single wall, hanging unceremoniously from their scrolls near the ceiling. Beneath them sat gigantic replicas—cellos, squatting on the floor and looking fat and sassy. The rows upon rows of polished wood and gorgeous curves awed my six year-old mind.

Look! A tiny violin no bigger than a Christmas tree ornament!
Look! A pink music stand!
Look! A violin taken apart so I can see inside!
LOOK! A violin made entirely out of shiny, silver metal!

And as someone helped us into a small side room and brought us two or three or four or five tiny violins made for someone just my size, I watched in awe as my soon-to-be violin teacher coaxed beautiful music out of the instruments. We found the perfect violin, with the perfect bow, the perfect case, the perfect shoulder rest, and the perfect rosin for the perfect price. We got to meet with and talk to the man whose name was on the sign out front: “Schuback Violin Shop.” I could have busted a button walking out of that shop with my miniature case firmly grasped in my chubby hand—and I was hooked. Oh, was I hooked.

Through the years, every time I got taller, we had two places to go—the doctor and Schuback—but Schuback was a lot more fun! Now I knew what those gigantic violins were. I knew what the random wooden parts strewn throughout the room were. And I knew what a good violin sounded like. I could carefully discern between tone differences, picking out my favorite—but when all else failed, Mr. Schuback was there to consult with.

When I was thirteen, though, the fun had to end. I had reached the full size, and would not be getting a new violin for awhile—if ever. That day, tugging on the wooden door, and walking in with all the confidence of a wanna-be professional, took a long time. Just like when I was six, nothing but the “perfect” one passed muster. And I walked out of there with my violin—my perfect violin, that has been with me through thick and thin for six years.

Schuback moved his shop after that, but we haven’t lost touch. There’s three other budding string musicians beneath me, you see. And just last week, we walked into his new shop in search of the perfect full size violin for Susanna and the perfect ¾ size cello for Micah. This time, I was the violin teacher testing instruments out for my student. And we found just what we were looking for.

Photo Credit #1

Photo Credit #2

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas!

This weekend, we got around an inch of snow which is persistently hanging around, due to below-freezing highs:
Brrr!

Despite the icy weather, we kept busy this weekend. Christmas tree hunting, parade attending, and the Jingle Bell 5k Run/Walk!

Above are all the cousins who traveled to Portland, OR to participate in this benefit event to promote and further arthritis research. Aunt Hiedie organized the team ("Hiedie's Holiday Hoofers") as her choice for the annual family gift exchange (Go to And the Skies Are Not Cloudy All Day to "meet" Dad's family). As you can see, we were careful to follow Aunt Hiedie's words of instruction as she handed us our bags of race shirts, Old Navy pajama pants, reindeer antlers, and Rudolph noses: "Feel free to not wear anything that makes you look beautiful!" This event occurs around the country, but our event was actually colder than the one in Anchorage!

Left to right: Uncle Larry, Susanna, and Melanie heading for the finish line in front of Portland's skyline!

Left: Micah--almost there!

Below: (back row) Melanie, Susanna, Mikaela, Lauren, Mama, Papa
(front row) Micah, Jonah

After the race, we relaxed at a neighborhood coffee shop, then went to Aunt Vickie and Uncle Larry's home to watch a movie, try our hand at Christmas trivia, sing carols around the piano, eat borscht (a family heritage--it's a Polish/Russian red soup made of beets, cabbage, broth, dill, and vinegar), play catch phrase, and race to unwrap four layers of wrapping paper (with gloves, hat, and scarf on) to get to prize chocolate bars!

That night, after getting home, we decorated our tree! Sadly, this year's trees at our traditional Christmas tree farm were all on the short side. The benefit, however, was that we didn't need a ladder to decorate!

I hope you are all getting in the Christmas spirit now! Just remember that, even with all of these fun traditions and festivities, Christ is the gift of Christmas and the heart of our celebration.