The Oregon Trail

We are currently sitting in the van driving west on I-90, listening to a story on our CD player. The baby is sleeping. The children are quiet. It is peaceful. The scenery is beautiful. It is an illusion. To be completely truthful it is not an illusion, but only half the story. Here is the other half.

Thirty plus hours driving across the country with small children can be a challenge. My husband, Eric, told us at the start of the trip, "Today we are going to be happy because we choose to be."

First, there is the problem of getting out on the road. It is amazing how many things need to be done in the morning. Things like changing diapers three times for one child. Cleaning out the van before we get started for the day. That took me over an hour and a half one day. Not surprising considering that we have the contents of seven backpacks emptied all over the floor; as well as blankets, pillows, coats, a diaper bag, food and two book bags of mine. Yes, it's a little full.
Surely we could get started sooner if we cut out eating. Do we really need to eat? Today Eric came back to the hotel room after taking the boys to breakfast and said, "Remember those parents we've seen in the grocery store with crying kids throwing a fit? Today that was me."
I guess Caden doesn't think we should cut out eating because he had a meltdown when Eric ended his breakfast early.
I have actually had a cashier in a grocery store comment that she wanted to video tape how well-behaved my children were in the store and post it on YouTube because otherwise no one would believe her. Never put too much stock in those comments. The meltdown may be coming.
Eric remains optimistic. "We're getting out in good time today," he says. We left at 10AM, again.

Next, there is the problem of getting everyone to the bathroom in time. Seconds after the exit for the rest area Shiloh tells us he needs to go. He is immediately desperate and begins crying. He can't wait. We either have to pull over to the side of the road or have him wet his pants. We decided to do both.
Not wanting to repeat the mistake we had just made, when I saw a sign for a rest area in two miles I asked the boys if anyone needed to stop. At the rest area parking lot Eric checked on the bike rack and realized it was not secure. One of the bikes was hanging by the chain with the handle bars toward the ground. He took all the bikes off, unfastened the bike rack and began unloading our luggage into the parking lot in search of his tool box.
Seemed to me like this would be a long process, but that worked out well because it gave me plenty of time to clean up after a sick child in the bathroom. Caden started coughing and then throwing up all over the bathroom floor. I am glad it wasn't in the van like the day before. Those antibacterial wipes my mom bought for our trip sure came in handy.
I sent another child back to Dad for a diaper and Caden's pajamas (the only clean clothing of his left in the suitcase).
While I was cleaning up the mess and changing Caden the cleaning lady came into the restroom with her little arsenal of cleaning bottles. Her arsenal didn't seem strong enough to match the enemy lurking in those stalls. I watched as she quickly sprayed the sinks and toilets. In a few minutes she was done. It just didn't appear long enough to sterilize and kill all the germs. Made me wonder why we ever use public restrooms.
I emerged from the bathroom to find my six month old baby riding on a bike. Well, being pushed around on it. Never to early to start, right?
They call this place Crazy Mountains. The story says that a woman on the wagon trains went insane and ran off into the mountains. They used to call it Crazy Woman Mountains, but then shortened it to just Crazy Mountains. Maybe she wasn't crazy at all. Maybe she just had a small child vomiting in the wagon, a baby trotting off into the woods on the ox, and a husband spreading out all their belongings in a 100 foot radius around the wagon muttering, "I know I put that bundle of horse hair somewhere, then I'll fix that broken axle." The mountains started looking really good -- quiet and peaceful.

Then there's the problem of keeping five boys quiet in a hotel room after they have been in a vehicle all day. Fun.
"I'll work hard to keep them quiet," Eric promised the hesitant hotel receptionist.
Why does he make promises?
"Don't worry," Eric reassures me. "We have our secret weapon -- NyQuil."
Yes, desperate times call for desperate measures. The night before we didn't sleep much. One boy woke up wet and needed to be changed. Caden's coughing made it hard for him to sleep, and Judah, who also isn't feeling well, woke up and wouldn't be pacified. He cried and cried. He was happy if we stood up holding him. I think that must be one of the rules in the Secret Handbook of Babyhood -- Never let anyone sit while comforting you. Needless to say we didn't get much sleep.
The next day after we left the hotel at 10AM we headed to Walmart to buy some cough syrup. So many choices. Then I saw it. NyQuil! After that I could see nothing else. I couldn't stop my hand from grabbing it off the shelf. With a new skip in my tired feet I headed to the checkout.
At the van again Eric asked if that was all I got. If I was planning to give them NyQuil during the day too. I clutched my bottle of promised peace and sleep. Yes, most definitely yes -- they were going to drink it in their water bottles. Kool-aid, anyone?
It's been a long trip; and between the rest stops, the repairs, the late starts and the sick children we haven't got much driving done. But Eric, always the optimist encourages us on, "At least we are faster than the Mormons when they walked over with their hand carts."
Today is a new day. I think today we will make it to Oregon.

Something Better

My Grandma always wanted to live in Utah. She thought it was one of the most beautiful states. Smart woman. She also wanted to build her own house. But throughout her life, she never lived in Utah and she always lived in houses that wouldn't have even been considered nice by many American families. Her husband served most of their married life as a pastor in small churches and they gave sacrificially from the small income they had.

Our pastor and his family recently left our church to serve as Wycliffe Bible translators in Tanzania. It is hard to give up your friends, ministry, or the home you have know for years -- not to mention living in a different culture.

They lived their lives in faith, trusting and waiting for the promises of God. They embraced God's truth and believed that they were strangers and pilgrims on this earth. They declare plainly that they seek a homeland, but not here. They desire something better, that is, a heavenly country. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for He has prepared a city for them. (Heb.11)

If my Grandma can give up Utah, so can I. If my friends can give up their church and friends, so can I. And perhaps this sounds strange, but if my friends can go, I can be willing to stay. We all give up different things. God has a different place for each of us. But ultimately, the question is... Are we seeking something better?

His Name is John

We had been giving money to Gospel for Asia, and were very interested in their native missionary program; but were hesitant to actually support a missionary because our finances are so uncertain. A native missionary is someone who is working full-time within unreached areas of his or her own culture or one very similar. Because they already know the customs and dialect of the people, they can begin working with people immediately and will not be considered an outsider. Also they can be accepted into areas where Westerners are typically not allowed to share the Gospel. I think it also helps people to know that God is not the foreigners' God, but also the God of their people.

I started to think what we could give up each month so that we could support a missionary. Then I thought, if I put aside the same amount each month that it is costing me for dental, I can give that to missions instead.
The dentist said I need to come every three months to keep the problems with my teeth under control. Is it really necessary? I don't know, but I prayed to God and said that we would give that money to missions, if He would protect my teeth. I asked my hygienist if i could try a six month schedule instead and we did. At my checkup she said my teeth were looking fine.

So now we support a national missionary. His name is John. I liked the name because I can actually pronounce it. When he became a Christian, his Hindu family kicked him out of home and he faced severe opposition. Through the urging of a pastor in his life, he eventually went on to Bible school and is now serving the Lord as a pastor and evangelist in India with his wife and three children.

Oh, Possum!

There are just some things you hope never to find in your house. (Or your garage, shed, or attic for that matter.) For me a possum would definitely be on that list.

I do not like mice. When we lived in the country, we had a big problem with mice. One time my husband saw a mouse in the kitchen. He jumped up from the table grabbed a bar stool and chased the mouse into the living room. The mouse ran behind the couch. My husband flipped the couch over and killed the mouse, who was probably holding still from shock, with the stool. Disgusting. Nothing like a mouse to make a man feel like a warrior.

Rats are even worse. Not only do they carry all the bad qualities of mice, but they also, in my mind, carry disease. Remember the Black Death of the 1300s.

Now possums are even bigger rodents than rats. If you have seen The Princess Bride you may remember when they are in the forest and are attacked by a Rodent of Unusual Size. That was a possum!

So my sister texted me a message last week, "Ahhhhhhhhhhh" was all it said. Turned out she had found a possum in her attic. She had unsuspectingly gone up into the attic to clean out some "pumpkins" the children had stored up there. I am not sure what these "pumpkins" actually were, because my son said they found these growing outside in the middle of a Michigan winter. They had brought back these valuable frozen treasures and stored them in the attic above the garage. Now the pumpkins had thawed and become a smelly mess.

Although my sister was afraid, her young children thought they could scare out a rodent that could eat them all in one delicious five course meal. Now I do admit that young, rambunctious children can be frightening, but not to this possum. When it started growling, my sister called them down.

Like little, brave soldiers, they wanted to try again another day.
"Make sure you don't hurt my car," their Grandma cautioned. Never mind that the children are going to be coming back bloody and mangled when the angry, growling rodent attacks. At least the car will be safe.

"If only you had carried it out in a box, when you first found it sleeping in the attic," Grandma told her daughter. Carry it out in a box? Yes, I can see that happening. Carefully pick up the box that the giant rodent is sleeping in, if you can lift it. Then try not to drop it as you climb down the steep attic stairs that you can't see because of the big box in front of you. Then hope not to wake it as you run screaming towards the woods. Nope. I wouldn't have picked up the box either. Though she did clean up the pumpkins, so she is a braver woman than I.

But I am still wondering, how does one rid himself of an opossum?

Do You Trust Me?

The other night we watched the testimony of Ann Conway that she had shared at an Institute of Basic Life Principles seminar. Someone at our church had given us this video to watch.
At the end I sat thinking, what have I learned from this? What have I gained? Because at that point, it seemed that all I got from the video was an over-whelming sense of pain.
When her son was one year old she noticed his diaper was really sagging and it was time for a change. When she changed him it was full of blood and clots. She went from doctor to doctor, anywhere that had some hope of coming up with answers. She waited much, holding her small, helpless son, feeling helpless herself. Waiting. Testing. Hoping to find that one doctor that could find the cure, that would even know what was wrong. This went on for years. How fragile life is, hanging in the balance, and God was asking her ... Do you trust me?
(Eventually they found the right antibiotic and he is a healthy man today.)

Many years later, it was time for her husband to transition to a new job. She wasn't worried if the job search took long because they had planned an emergency fund for this time and they had that cushion of security. But then the letter from the IRS came. Years ago, their business accountant had misplaced a decimal point in the forms and it turned out they owed the IRS all of their emergency fund. Good bye cushion. Good bye security. Now they had nothing, and this lasted for two years.

At one point she was so discouraged, she came to her bedroom, threw down the mail she was carrying, flopped across her bed and cried. Again God was asking.... Do you trust Me?

But then most crushing of all. Her daughter died. She rushed her to the hospital, but it was too late. She had bled to death from a mistake in surgery. The pain is great; I cannot escape it, so I try to think... What was the point of watching this? What have I gained?

Do you trust me? God says. It's easy to say we trust Him when we have that cushion of protection, when things are going our way or are at least comfortable.

But do you trust Him?

In the loss of a business?

In the uncertainty of what will happen with your child?

In financial crisis?

In the death of someone you love?

Because He is trustworthy.

I am left with the impression of how God had not abandoned her. When she needed to rush her daughter to the hospital and turned onto a packed interstate, God supplied someone for her to follow. For years she had followed her husband to work and on the back of his vehicle it read "Pathfinder." When a vehicle with "Pathfinder" on the back pulled in front of her she followed it without even thinking. She said the interstate was like a parking lot, but she recalls glancing at her speedometer once and it read 90mph. At one point she didn't follow and the driver rolled down his window and waved her over. I turned to my husband and asked if that was an angel. He got her to the hospital right before her daughter died.

God did not abandon them when she needed money and was so discouraged that she threw the mail and herself on her bed. In the mail was a letter from someone, that in her mind needed money more than her; but God had told them to write a check and they obeyed His voice. God supplied. He was still there and had not abandoned them.

Then I am left with the thought that one day our faith will be sight. When her daughter pulled up to the hospital she told her mom, "Jesus is here." I really believe He was. I think He was coming to bring her Home. She died shortly after that. I must remember to hold fast to the faith that we have. One day everything we believe to be true will be proven true.

I am left with the impression of how these people listened to God's voice. On the day their daughter died, her husband was scheduled to be at a meeting in another city; but really thought God was telling him to excuse himself from the meeting and come home. He obeyed God's voice, and called his wife to let her know he was coming. He explained that he didn't know why, and not to think he was crazy. Of course she didn't think he was crazy because then she told him that their daughter was in Heaven. WHAT! Can't you just hear the shock! Now he understood why God wanted him to cancel his meeting. He was already at the airport on his way home.

I am left with the thought that when everyone else is gone... Jesus is enough. Her daughter had just died. The doctors and chaplain were no comfort. Her husband was out of town. She was alone in a room in the hospital. Alone with Jesus...and He became enough for her.

So in the midst of this painful story, these jewels are left.

God will not abandon us.

Jesus is alive; Listen to His voice.

Jesus is enough.

Famous Men

Last night I stayed up until midnight reading a biography of Daniel Webster. I am fascinated by it, but am not sure why because it's really not that dramatic or suspenseful.
I think what is interesting is how God perfectly orchestrated his life. He becomes a famous orator, and looking back we can see how God prepared him for that. Choices that seemed so hard then, seem clear looking back. Of course he wouldn't work as a clerk, recording other people's cases; but instead, he would go on to be a lawyer himself. The people he met make sense, the people that influenced him make sense, the people he learned from make sense because they were shaping him into what God had planned.
Even the books he found interesting as a young person seem to show the direction that God was taking him, shaping his heroes and his desires even then. I recently finished reading a biography of Stonewall Jackson, and it's interesting to compare the similarities and differences. Jackson found war heroes interesting, one of his favorite books was Parson Weems' Life of General Francis Marion. Webster preferred the work of Cicero the orator of Italy. He actually enjoyed translating it from Latin.
I remember reading once that Thomas Edison wanted to start on one shelf in the library and read every book. Webster also worked through the library reading every book.
Daniel Webster's father worked hard to make a living and didn't want his sons to have to work so hard just to scrape by. He thought college was the solution to this problem, and sacrificed greatly for his son. He kept saying, my life is for you, and if you will promise to do all you can for yourself, I will do what I can for you.
What am I doing to shape my children toward the future God has gifted them for? Am I developing those gifts? What are their interests? Am I challenging their young minds with heroes? With a love for learning and discovery?
My boys don't need to be famous men, but will they use everything that God has gifted them with. Will they discover their God-created niche? Will I help them?

10:10

This past fall was a very important date in the lives of my husband and me. The date was October 10, 2010, or 10-10-10. For more than 15 years now I have prayed for my future husband (and then my actual husband) when I saw the numbers 10:10. It could be a date, a page number, a clock...
So in honor of our 10-10 anniversary in the year twenty-TEN, Eric and I played a game at Meijer to celebrate our married life together.
We each took turns picking one item from the shelves at Meijer that reminded us of our life together. We picked a total of ten items and the total price goal was ten dollars. (10,10)

1. A candle -- to represent romance, the bubble baths, candlelight dinners, etc...

2. A "Get Well Soon" balloon -- to represent the times of sickness, the chicken noodle soup that has been lovingly prepared, the middle of the night searches on the internet for information on how to relieve some ailment

3. A card about money -- to represent the countless business ideas and ventures my husband has had or tried, to represent our years of toil owning the tree service

4. Pencils -- to represent the love letters we have written to each other

5. Stickers -- to say I will stick with you, for better or worse

6. Power Steering Fluid -- to represent our vehicles, the repairs we are constantly needing (and God's faithfulness in keeping the vehicles going), the many vehicles Eric has given away, and the one he actually sold

7. Nail clippers -- to represent the times I have taken care of Eric by clipping his nails (This is one of those strange things I do for my husband because he likes it.)

8. Baby food -- to represent our children

9. Breath mints -- to represent the kisses

10. An apple -- to represent the fun times we have had together -- one of those fun times being apple-picking

Total cost including tax: $10.25