If At First You Don't Succeed...

...and your mom makes you try, try again...you might have a good time.

Maybe...

But meanwhile, your mom will be incredibly stressed out, wondering if this is the worst vacation plan ever.

To the top of the story...

For Spring Break, Mark and I decided to try taking the kids skiing.  We thought Brianna, being the natural athlete, would take to it quickly and absolutely love it.  We were a bit concerned that Matt, with a tendancy to quit when the going got tough, might not enjoy it, and would throw in the skis, so to speak.  So we prepped him, saying everyone falls when they're learning, etc., and that you just have to laugh at your mistakes and try again.  And I told him about the first times I went skiing, back in high school.  And about how I didn't really know how to stop, except by falling.  And about the time when I went down the mountain (hill really, after all it was northern Ohio) and couldn't stop, and took out the skiers waiting in the lift line (including my school ski club sponsor, Mr. Aufdemberge), and finally stopped about a foot from the half frozen river at the bottom of the hill.  And I got up and skied again.  But apparently I didn't tell Brianna.

So, we told the kids we were going skiing, and Brianna shrieked in delight.  I mean blood-curdling scream of joy.  While I was driving.  Fortunately I kept the car on the road.  They were both thrilled and excited, though Matt really wanted to snowboard instead.  But we talked him into skiing, partly because Brianna didn't want to go to a lesson without him.

So snow day arrives.  (By the way, we had beautiful, spectacular snow weather the couple days before the trip, and the snow in the mountains was fantastic, for Arizona spring skiing).  And to make a long story a little less long, we get the kids signed up for ski school, get them to their class, and then Mark and I head up the slopes.  Where I find that I'm not really at all comfortable going fast.  Not that I ever really liked speed, but now I just want to leisurely go down the mountain.  Which we do, and it's fun, and I start to get my ski legs back, and then we wait for the kids to get out of their lesson.

When we ask them how it went, they both say great, I love skiing, etc.  Still wanting to see how they are doing, I go up the "pony slope" (they called it a bunny slope when I was a beginner), and I head down the mountain with Brianna.  Only she's a bit out of control, and falls as she tries to make her first turn.  She tells me she doesn't like it, and wants to quit.  I talk her into another run, and her second fall is worse than the first.  And, "I hate skiing, and I'm never going to do this again."  She takes her equipment off, and heads off.  Mark goes with her while I take Matt, who's doing quite well for a beginner, up the mountain to some green slopes. 

Matt does well for a beginner (way better than me my first several times), but of course falls several times on the way down the mountain.  But he perseveres and does a few more runs.  Meanwhile, Mark has gotten Brianna back on the pony hill to try a few more times.  She's slightly better with him ("Dad's way better helping me than you, mom"), but still falling a bunch.

This, by the way, is the girl who decided to potty train one day, and was done. (I know, TMI).  She decided one day to ride a two-wheeler, and did.  She decided one day that she would overhand serve in Volleyball, and she served 5 aces at her first game.  From her first talking days, it was "I do myself."

Now we've finished the first of our two days of skiing, Matt wants to snowboard tomorrow (we agree to let him try it), and Brianna is saying she hates skiing.  Mark talks her into taking another lesson on the second day.  But when it's time to get up in the morning, I can't even really get her out of bed.  Finally succeeding at that, I get her into the car to head to the mountain, but she covers her head with her blanket and "sleeps."  When we arrive at the slopes, somehow we get her out of the car and up to the desk to register for ski school (reminding her that she told Mark yesterday that she would.) But she keeps saying, i don't want to go to ski school.  I don't want to go on the mountain.  I just want to stay on the pony hill.  You can't make me go.  We sign her up anyway.

As Matt heads off to his snowboard lesson, Brianna keeps telling me "you can't make me go.  I hate skiing.  I'm never skiing again, etc." And, "You're pretty much forcing me to do this you know." (and I'm thinking we could be charged with child abuse or child endangerment)  We (Mark) manage to get her in the class with 13 and up (that's the class she was in the day before with Matt), because she doesn't want to go in the "Kiddie Corral". and we're pretty sure that if forced she will never speak to us again.  Fortunately the person in charge bends the rules, and the instructor Dave (a WONDERFUL, seasoned instructor...probably in his late 60s or even 70s) takes her into his group. 

Mark and I leave and head off for an hour and a half skiing on the other side of the mountain.  Before we go, Mark grabs my hand and we pray for her instructor and her attitude.  We have a couple of fantastic runs, (on the green slopes) and then head back to the kids.  They're still finishing up their lessons when we return, but we spy Brianna at the top of the hill with instructor Dave.  Then she makes a run down the hill.  And does a couple wonderful turns.  And gets to the bottom of the hill with a huge smile on her face.  And when she meets up with us she wants to take a break for lunch, take a couple more runs at the bunny hill, and then "go down the mountain."

And we do.  And she does.  And she falls, and gets up, and smiles, and does it all again, and again, and before I know it she's asking if we can stay another day, and when we come skiing next time...

And I thank God for instructor Dave, who worked with her in a way she would accept.  And helped her get some confidence.  And helped her get down that hill.  And Mark saw him a little later, and thanked him for taking Brianna in his class and saving our vacation.

 

(sorry, can't get the pictures to turn...)

Flying the Friendly Skies

For Christmas Mark gave me a trip back to see my friends in Texas.  He intuitively knew I don't need more stuff, I just need my friends.  So he arranged for me to head to Texas for 5 days with friends.  I know, he's great like that. 

In the process of planning the trip he called a friend to see if my old Tuesday morning Bible study ladies (sorry ladies, you're not that old) would be meeting, knowing that I would probably want to see them too.  They were, but during the call Natalie (the friend) offered a "buddy pass" to fly standby, saying it would otherwise go unused as it expired at the end of January.  My husband, ever the bargain hunter (my kids would say "cheap") took her up on it, and my trip was set.

We have been undeserving recipients of many buddy passes from our friends who work for the airlines based in our old hometown.  The first time was the first day we flew to Houston.  Mark's father had died while we were travelling, and we were met with that news at the airport, but also with two buddy passes to fly the next morning to Buffalo NY.  On several occasions Mark flew on a buddy pass to see his mom in times of crisis during the next years.  Then, when Mark's mom and my dad died three weeks apart two summers ago, once again we were saved from exhorbitant last minute flight fees with buddy passes.  Praise God for our friends, and for their generosity.

This is the first time I can remember that I used a buddy pass purely for pleasure.  The thing about a buddy pass is that you fly on standby, and you are on the bottom of the totem pole, or in this case the waitlist.  So I arrived early (4:45 am) for my 6 am flight to Houston.  Only the plane was full and I had to wait for the next flight, a little after 8 am.  Now I was third on the waiting list but made it on the flight without problem.

Once in Texas I enjoyed 5 days visiting with friends, who graciously shuttled me around the state and in some cases let me disrupt their children's sleeping habits and bedrooms to give me a place to stay.  Before I knew it, it was time to return to Phoenix.  And that's when things got interesting.

The night before the flight Natalie looked on the company website and saw that the flight I was hoping to take was oversold by 6 seats, and there were 13 people on standby (I think I was #12)...Not much chance of catching that flight, she said, and because it was so oversold, the flights the rest of the day would probably also be backed up, and even into the next day.  Yikes.  Things were not looking good.

I wasn't willing to concede.  I'd just go to the airport and wait.  I don't mind sitting around and reading for a couple hours.  Natalie said she'd take me to the airport and would be shopping at a nearby store when I was ready for her to come and pick me up to bring me back to try again the next day.  She didn't think I had a shot of getting on that flight. 

I may not have had a shot, but I did have a prayer.  As I waited, at the very crowded gate, the first thing I noticed was that it was time to board but it wasn't. As it continued to be delayed they announced that the crew was changing a seat cushion or cover.  (I will guess that someone had to use the little bag in the seat back during the previous flight...) 

Finally, about an hour late, the flight began to board, and the gate agent began calling names from standby.  Then I noticed he was calling some people two and three times.  Since by now all sections of the plane had boarded, there were few people at the gate.  He called about 4 different names, but each time, no one went forward.  Finally he called a name, and a man jumped up, delighted to have a seat.  It appeared the plane was about to leave when the gate agent closed the access to the plane.  The second gate agent was walking down the jetway. 

Noticing me standing waiting, the last one left, the gate agent called me over.  It seems someone had checked in, but hadn't boarded.  The second agent was going to board the plane and see if he had perhaps somehow slipped by without getting his ticket scanned.  "do you want to wait at the end of the jetway, just in case?  If he's there, you'll have to come back."  Yes, I said, feeling a bit like I was walking the plank. 

As I waited, I prayed that the man wasn't on the plane.  The baggage guy, who was waiting at the end of the jetway to get gate-checked bags, looked at me.  "Standby?" he said, and I nodded.  "I hate that wait," he said.  I smiled and told him I was praying that the other guy wasn't here.  Moments later the second gate agent came off the plane and said, "You're on," took my ticket, and the baggage handler took my bag, and I was on board, just as the flight attendant was telling people it was time to turn off their laptops and electronic devices.  I had a couple quick texts to send, to Natalie and to my husband, telling them I made it.

My best guess is that because of the delay, several of the people ahead of me on stand-by decided to give up the wait.  Maybe they could make it out later that day, or just change their flight plans.  As for the man who checked in but never boarded, I'm guessing he may have been thirsty and headed to the lounge. His following headache was my blessing...and I'm praising God for flight delays.  The airline's ontime record may have suffered, but I'm not complaining.  Smile.  And welcome to the friendly skies.  Where we fly on a wing...and a prayer.

Light in the Darkness

I first wrote this 6 years ago, as a tragedy was taking place just down my street.  It seems incredibly appropriate to republish it today.  My heart breaks for all those families, and for the lost innocence, and cries out "come, quickly, Lord Jesus."  

Light in the Darkness

It was a week from hell.  A friend, a young mother with two young daughters, is diagnosed with breast cancer.  Another, whose children are the same ages as my own, is rushed to the ER with severe chest pains.  My mom e-mails that she’s been getting tired and winded very quickly, so she has seen a doctor.  Twice before she’s had cancer—this time it’s a rapid irregular heartbeat.  She’s on medication for 3 weeks, and then the doctor will “shock” her heart into a regular rhythm.  Until then, there’s a concern for blood clots and stroke.  My sister-in-law, whose twin sister died almost exactly a year ago in a tragic car crash, now loses her mother to cancer just a week before Christmas.  And on my own street, in a quiet suburban neighborhood, not more than a few doors down, two women are killed.  Fear and police activity fill our street as a teenage neighbor is arrested for the murders.  We try to shield our 5 and 7 year olds from the ugliness as they see police cars and television crews, but there’s no shielding ourselves from the world gone dark.  I’m overwhelmed.

And so, a week before Christmas, I sit in the pew as we begin to sing “O Little Town of Bethlehem.”  On the second line, tears begin to fall, “…above thy dark and dreamless sleep…”  That’s what I feel—the darkness and dreamlessness.  The world seems to have been overtaken by the prince of darkness.  There is so much pain and grief and suffering; how can we endure?  And why all this suffering at Christmas, the season of good cheer?

Despite my flood of tears the song continues.  Though I am unable to sing, I hear the words, “…yet in thy dark streets shineth the everlasting light…” and I know the darkness is temporary because there’s a light in the darkness that can’t be put out.  Psalm 139:13 says “Even the darkness will not be dark to you…” and Ps. 18:28, “my God turns my darkness into light”.  That’s exactly what Christmas is about.  John tells us, “The true light that gives light to every man was coming into the world.” (John 1:9) God entered our world at Christmas to be the light of the world.

Recently I learned when Jesus said, “I am the light of the world,” it was at the end of the feast of tabernacles.  This festival was known for the beauty of its lights.  A ring of lights from camped pilgrims surrounded Jerusalem, and in the temple courts a giant menorah burned for 7 days.  But at the end of the feast, the light in the temple courts was put out, and as the pilgrims prepared to go home it felt like the world was plunged into darkness.  That’s when Jesus said, “I am the light of the world.  Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” (John 8:12) God is the God of time and of timing—when our world is plunged into a darkness we can’t understand, he says, “let there be light.” And he says “I am the light.”

That night I turn out the lights in the living room and just turn on the lights on my tree.  As I look at the lights I remember God’s words, “The people living in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of the shadow of death a light has dawned.” (Matt 4:16)  And from the prophet Isaiah, “I will lead the blind by ways they have not known, along unfamiliar paths I will guide them; I will turn the darkness into light before them and make the rough places smooth.  These are the things I will do; I will not forsake them.”

(Is 42:16)

Despite the darkness of this world, there is a Light that darkness cannot overcome.  I will let that Light be my guide.

Stainless Steel French Door Refrigerator

When we looked at the house that we eventually bought, the owner had a stainless steel refrigerator in the kitchen.  It looked great with the stainless oven and microwave and dishwasher.  We had our realtor ask if she was willing to leave it.  The answer was no.  Now, we had a perfectly good side-by-side refrigerator that is not even all that old...less than 5 years.  But it is white, and definitely clashes with the other stainless appliances.

We are forever trying to impress on the kids the difference between "wants" and "needs".  And no, they don't NEED a new Playstation 3, or another pair of tennis shoes, or an iPhone 17.  And we didn't NEED a new refrigerator...but it sure would be nice...

When we moved in I told Mark, let's keep our eyes open for a sale, some good deal, maybe a close-out floor model.  It could be a year or two, but let's just look.

A couple nights ago Mark went to Home Depot for a new grill brush for his new grill...we had left the old one behind in Texas, deeming it not worth the move due to its age and condition (funny, a doctor once told Mark he should get a flu shot, saying, "well, at your age and condition...)  Anyhow, he walked in the door, and what did he see but a close-out, french door, stainless steal refrigerator, formerly the floor model, at a discounted price.  He came home and told me about it, and the next day we went to take a look.  Yup, just what I had been looking for.  At a deeply discounted price.  With an extra $200 off in a "buy more/get more" sale.  Too good of an offer to pass up, at nearly 30% off.  So we are now the proud new owners of a bouncing baby refrigerator.

I look at it and I know that this will not bring lasting happiness.  Things of this earth rarely do.  The only thing I like as much now as I did when I got it is my husband (despite the fact that he bought me something with an electric cord for my birthday :) ). (Just kidding...he bought it two days after my birthday).  And my kids (some days).  And a few friends :) (you decide if you're one of them...j/k)

Clothes shrink or fade in the wash.  Gadgets get out-dated or wear out.  Appliances break down. I find out that my bar height kitchen table is not comfortable to sit at for extended periods of time. The stuff of this world is only stuff, and does not last forever, or bring lasting joy.  "The grass withers and the flowers fall, but the Word of our God stands forever." (Isaiah 40:7) Only what is from God lasts forever or brings lasting joy.

But for now, I'll look at my stainless steel french door refrigerator and smile.

In other news...the bifold door on the pantry is broken, today my toilet wouldn't flush, and we still need to get our roof repaired.  Oh, the joys of home ownership.  maybe next time we'll buy new construction :)  (or course, that's a week or two away :) )

Beauty in the Desert

I first began to appreciate the desert about 10 years ago, when Mark and I were able to take a trip to Big Bend National Park, on the border of TX and Mexico. Although our springtime trip missed the desert blooms by a couple of weeks, we still were able to marvel at all the life in the desert, and the beauty in the barrenness, finding once we were out in it that it really wasn't as barren as it appeared.  Life flourished in the desert...it was just a different kind of life than we were accustomed to.

Fast forward about a decade, and I'm beginning to choose to see the beauty in the desert once again.  As the weather begins to get  (infintesimally) cooler, as homeownership finally draws closer, as we begin slowly by slowly (a favorite Kenyan phrase) to establish a life in Arizona, I am able to see the beauty here.

Over the last few weeks I've enjoyed morning walks in the neighborhood across the street with Lyric. One morning when it was particularly cool I  began to see the refreshing beauty in the local landscaping.  I shot some pictures on my phone: (if I actually knew what I was doing in inserting pics into a blog, I'd be dangerous...as it is, I apologize that they are not in a beautiful, scrapbook-like display...you get what you get and you don't throw a fit)

 

 

 
Not only did I notice the beauty of the landscaping, but also the added beauty of the doors.  These are not front doors, as in this neighborhood you can't even see the fronts of the houses. What you see are driveways and garages, and walls...big concrete/stucco walls that surround the properties.  But through many of the walls, at least in this neighborhood, are beautifully colorful doors...entrances that say "you are welcome, despite the wall that has been built."  Entrances that say "even though I am desert, I don't have to settle for drab." 

And so, I am seeing the beauty around me.  And I'm choosing to see the desert metaphors in my life, as I think God is speaking volumes here as well.  I'm reminded of lyrics from a song we frequently sing at church,


Blessed Be Your Name
In the land that is plentiful
Where Your streams of abundance flow
Blessed be Your name

Blessed Be Your name
When I'm found in the desert place
Though I walk through the wilderness
Blessed Be Your name

Every blessing You pour out
I'll turn back to praise
When the darkness closes in, Lord
Still I will say

Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your name
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your glorious name

 

And I'm reminded of these verses from Isaiah 35 "The desert and the parched land will be glad; the wilderness will rejoice and blossom.Like the crocus it will burst into bloom; it will rejoice greatly and shout for joy. The glory of Lebanon will be given to it, the splendor of Carmel and Sharon; they will see the glory of the LORD, the splendor of our God"

 

As we continue to adapt to life in the desert, I'm praying that we continue to seek out the beauty, and to listen to God's voice and see His handiwork in our lives.

 

Arizona Weather Observations

Okay, we've been here more than a month now, and the kids have been in school for 4 weeks.  Here are some of the things I've noticed in Arizona:

1. Weather Alert Radio: it's not just a test.  I've heard at least half a dozen "emergency alert" buzzes for storms.  I don't remember ever hearing any in Houston, even when Ike was blowing into town.  However, they don't interrupt the entire morning's broadcasting schedule to show you that it is raining.  Houston, take a memo!

2. Today there is a flash flood alert for much of the South East Valley...one community registered 2.8" rain.  Huh? A couple weeks after Brianna was born there was a storm with 22" of rain.  Of course, in AZ, 2.8" is a whole monsoon season's worth of rain.

3. I love the doggie door...except on days like today when it's raining...and the dog comes in with wet paws...

4.  Haboobs:  those are those big dust storms that blow into the valley.  Yesterday I was in one that was 2500 feet tall and I think they said 30 miles across.  Watched it approach when I went to pick Matt up from football.  It's just wild to watch.  Kind of like fog...but made of dust/dirt.  Visibility reduced to less than 1/2 mile.  In some cases, Much less.

5. I don't care what anyone says, there's no such thing as a dry heat...hot is hot.  The sweat runs down the small of your back when you walk a dog if it's a hundred outside regardless of how much humidity there is.  And you need a shower after the walk either way.  Also the reason why the dog hasn't gotten as many walks.

6. It's hard to understand the term "cooling trend" when the weather is going down to 103 degrees.  A couple days ago the weather man said "notice the cooling trend" while the weather chart showed one day at 106 degrees and the next to 103 degrees.  How is that cool, and how is it a trend?

7. I'm becoming addicted to the Food Network and HGTV.   What does this have to do with the weather, you say?  Think about it...

A "What Were We Thinking" Kind of Day

Woke up too early today (I could say that every day since we've been in Arizona...my body clock apparently hasn't adjusted to Pacific Daylight Time)...but ready to explore "the new neighborhood". 

First, I had to call our auto insurance to change plans since we have moved.  UGH! Apparently between a new state and a ticket Mark got this summer (shhh, don't tell him I told you), insurance is going up $300/6 months.  Yikes.

Then, just before I was going to leave the house, our realtor called.  Yesterday we gave the seller a list of repairs we would like based on the homeowner's inspection.  Will meet with our realtor tomorrow after Mark gets back in town, but one component was some roof damage, and the seller has said she won't repair, although she will make an allowance of some sort (will find that out tomorrow, too).  Now we need to get a roofer to inspect the damage to see how extensive it really is.  Only, we've had a lot of rain lately, so a lot of homeowners have discovered leaks in their rooves (isn't that the plural of roof...like hoof and hooves?), and it's about to be a holiday weekend, and we are definitely on a deadline.  I think the wind went out of my sails.

Then I drove to our new location.  Only I turned into the subdivision at the wrong street.  After snaking my way through, I found my way towards our home, but had to drive the long way by the elementary school that is a block from our house (and there's no way to get to the house without passing the school).  And I was there at Kindergarten pick up time.  What a traffic jam.  And no, it's not just because it's the first week of school.  Chandler schools started back in July.  I can't yet imagine the traffic jam at the end of the day.

From the neighborhood I decided to find the nearest Jo-Ann's store.  i haven't decided yet if I want to go back to work there, but I thought I'd check it out.  I think the nearest store is about 10 miles away (the same as in Kingwood).  Except it's all city streets.  With stoplights.  Which I hit.  Every one.  By the time I got to the store, I was fairly sure I didn't want to work there, a thought that was confirmed when I went inside.  I didn't get that "lovin' feeling" if you know what I mean.

I also was looking for the nearest grocery store.  Only I don't think there is one.  Seriously.  I drove several different directions from the house, but didn't find anything close.  Or any other stores for that matter.  I'm sure they're out there.  Somewhere.  But I'm feeling like we are going to be living in quite an isolated area.  Did I mention that we will drive by a dairy farm every day from school/church?  Everything in the valley is very built up...except the area where we are going to live.  I'm used to the Kroger a block away. 

I didn't get lost on my drive, but there were several times when I couldn't get where I was going.  Exit ramps from the freeway, but no entrance ramps.  Ugh! More frustration.  I was very happy to get back "home" (to our temporary dwelling), but it was one of those days...