Not Easily Broken

I love Birch trees, always have. It is therefore fitting that my married name is Estonian for "Valley of the Birch". I might be making that up, but I think my memory of what Arvo's dad told me is correct. They are a beautiful tree, the Dalmatian of the tree world with their white bark and black spots. They can be used for so many things, including Birch Bark canoes. They stand out in a crowd of more typical brown and gray trees.

The name birch derives from the sanskrit word bhirgo, meaning "tree whose bark was used to write upon". I love these kinds of names. Similarly, did you know that cinnamon roll is derived from the ancient sanskrit "bumpolitis" meaning"bread that places globules of cellulite"? These are little known facts that help me through my day.

The silver birch take 25 years to bear fruit, yet the birch are associated with the Norse goddess Frigga, the goddess of married love. They are thought to be hardier than oak, and make the strongest plywood. So beloved is this tree that it is the national symbol of Finland. While they can grow singly, many grow in clumps with multiple trunks. They can live for 50 years, but many die young because the soil must be just right, or they succumb quickly to pests and drought.

What a wealth of symbols God gives me in the Birch tree! While they can stand alone, they prefer the close company of others. They are hardy and strong if they are rooted in the right place. If not, they quickly wither and die. They are the symbol of married love, and take 25 years to bear fruit in some cases.

I love that my name means Birch Valley, because while I am not as strong as I should be, if I listen to the message of the Birch, maybe I will be stronger. I should be rooted in something secure and true, like the nail scarred hands of Jesus' sacrifice on my behalf. I should cling to others and not try to go it alone. I should recognize that marriage like any worthwhile relationship is a process, takes time and energy, and the fruit of that may not be immediately obvious. And best of all, my skin with all its age spots and wrinkles can be peeled off someday, exposing a strong smooth core.

Ecclesiastes 4:12
Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.

The Offering

I have mentioned many times that my art students bless me more than I could ever hope to bless them, and that happened again yesterday. One of my young students is very quiet, very careful and methodical with her work, and one year took nearly the whole semester to finish one little painting for her grandmother. I have learned never to push her to work too quickly because her rhythm of life would be too disturbed by that kind of pressure. She is so quiet and undemanding, she could be easily overlooked in my bustling, boisterous class.

Recently, she came to me at the end of class and showed me artwork she was doing during the church sermons. She listens (I am certain very carefully) and draws. She showed me page after page of lovely landscape paintings. This is the child who did one painting for 3 months? She is apparently churning them out, from the quiet but deep center of her being. Suddenly, not only does she seem to have found artistic confidence and a technique she loves, but something creative inside her is begging to be let out.

Yesterday, her sweet mother dropped off a bag of dogfood donation for Hollow Creek Farm, and we chatted a while. I mentioned her daughter's sudden outpouring of beautiful landscape paintings.

"She does those in church," answered her mother, "Last week, when the offering plate was passed, she had finished one and put it in the offering plate."

I hope the church recognizes what a treasure they received. I hope they understand that there was no greater tribute to God this child could have offered. I hope they see her mature comprehension that God gave her talents, and now she returns them to Him. And I hope when they are in a back room, counting the checks and lift this beautiful picture, they all gather around in awe, smiling in the presence of pure love, a pleasing and fragrant sacrifice.

Ephesians 5:2
and live a life of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.

Petals Falling Away

It is a rainy morning. Matt heads back today to finish out his undergraduate career. As I was looking for an artwork for today's blog, I thought this picture looks just like how I feel. Putting on a sunny face but really, feeling droopy with petals slowly drifting off.

I guess we all feel that way sometimes, wanting to lift a perfect and joyful blooming visage to the world, but not quite having all it takes to do so. I also like how the picture shows that there are a bunch of other sad sunflowers, some in even worse shape propping each other up. They can't prevent the petals from falling, or browning, but they can help the tender stalk remain up right, at least for a while. I am quite sure it is not what I was consciously thinking when I painted the picture, but I am also sure God knew someday I would need to look at it and find comfort.

I love sunflowers. Once, when Asherel was still very young and I was pulling her in a little cart behind my bicycle, we spotted a whole stand of sunflowers in a field. It was a vacant field, and the sunflowers were wild- maybe leftovers from some ancient farmer. I went and dug a few stalks, roots and all, and piled them in the cart beside Asherel. We then biked home, with my baby surrounded by 5 foot tall sunflowers waving in the wind. Lots of people honked and waved. It is not every day you see sunflowers out for a bikeride.

So rain and the gloom of worries may be sitting beside me, but I have visions of biking sunflowers dancing in my head. Even if petals are flying off, it is a glorious ride.

Psalm 30:11
You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy

Riding Goofy

We have returned victorious from our snow boarding trip. Matt and Asherel looked like real snow boarders by the end of the day. I broke no bones and lacerated no body parts, thus my goals were accomplished.

The mountains of North Carolina are beautiful, but we were incredulous as we approached our hotel, only 2 miles away, and as yet saw not one drop of snow. The ski mountain was only 2 miles from the hotel so we could not imagine how it could have snow. It was 60 degrees, by the way.

Even as we pulled into the ski parking lot, we asked the attendant, "Where is the snow?"
He pointed behind him, and indeed there was a snow covered mountain. I don't know how they refrigerate a mountain, but somehow they do. We were early, an hour before our lesson so we got our equipment and went bravely to the slopes. Of course, at first, we stayed on the level slope. The first terrifying realization was we had no idea how to step onto the board- there is no sign that says heel here, toe here. There was also a strap that we had no idea what it was for. So
I found someone who had snowboarded 3 times and thus was an expert and asked him. Asherel had done some research before we had arrived so knew that our first step was to lock in one foot and then push around with the other to get the feel of sliding. This was surprisingly difficult. It uses muscles that I am sure I rarely if ever use, and they were not happy to be called into service. Within a few minutes though, we were climbing partway up the bunny slope and sliding tentatively down. Matt even braved the whole bunny slope.

Then the first thing they taught us at our lesson was that people like me who are the rare exception of using right foot as the lead foot are "Riding Goofy". I was only one of two Goofy riders in our lesson, so everything the instructor taught, I did the opposite. When the rest of the class did a heel dig, they curved left. I curved right (at least in theory- I never did quite get the knack of turning....) So as if it wasn't bad enough being the only gray haired wrinkled raisin of a human trying this dangerous sport which is made for maniacs under 25, I was being continually called "Goofy".
To use the rope pull to the top of the slope, regular riders face the rope and grasp it easily. Goofy riders have to have their back to the rope, twist their aged torso and hang on while their arm gets wrenched out of the socket. It took me several painful tries before I mastered that.

Matt and Asherel got quite good. We had to force Asherel off the mountain and pry the snowboard off her. This was difficult as by that time, I was so tired that even my fingernails ached.
"Why are we leaving?" she cried.
"Because as of yet we are uninjured," I answered, "And we have been here for 7 hours tempting fate."

I slept the whole drive home, though of course, with my eyes open since I was driving. This morning, I ache all over, but there are no bruises which is because the snow was so soft and slushy that it cushioned my falls. And I hope someday when my children are standing on the Olympic podium, collecting the Gold medal for their half pipe performance, they will remember fondly the aged mother riding goofy on a snowboard.

1 Thessalonians 3:5-7
...has just now come to us from you and has brought good news about your faith and love. He has told us that you always have pleasant memories of us and that you long to see us, just as we also long to see you.

Dilemma

Matt and Asherel are still asleep. I meanwhile am envisioning all the potential and horrific likelihoods of Snowboarding disasters. We are at the hotel, which is why I don't have access to my photos so we will have a picture-less blog today. I didn't expect to be able to write at all, however, so this is a nice surprise. I have been up for two hours already. I have been researching the impact of most ski accidents and the resulting trauma to the tender skull.

Fortunately, most snowboarding accidents happen only to unskilled novices who are fifty or older with brittle bones and should never be anywhere near a ski mountain. I have the option to downgrade to skiing, which I know how to do to some extent since I cross country ski. So on the drive, I asked my kids if they would mind if I took the ski lesson instead and of course would then join them on the bunny slope after the lesson.

"Don't you already know how to ski?" asked Matt, sweetly, of course, but the insinuation being I was afraid to try something new.
Asherel was more direct.
"Oh just try it! You can always downgrade to skis if you don't like it."

This means that I will downgrade to skis after I snap my femur like a twig, of course.
I was hoping for a down pour that would melt the hundred inch snow base, but it is not raining. So in just a couple minutes, I awaken the kids and off we go to the mountain. I have an hour to decide will I be brave, or a fool, or both.... or play it safe. Mind you, we will be learning on a near level field, and have been informed that we are not allowed on even the bunny slope til the instructor feels we are not a threat to ourselves or others. If I pass that test, it will be for perhaps the first time in my life that I am neither.
Psalm 34:4
I sought the LORD, and he answered me; he delivered me from all my fears.

Singing Another's Song

We head for the hills today. While it is supposed to hit 60 degrees, there is still snow on the mountain and we are doomed... er,.... excited to know we will indeed finally be able to snow board. This is particularly thrilling for me as yesterday my toenail fell off from the severe trauma of a few months back, so that foot is a little tender anyway. I am hoping the pain of that in a snowboard boot will take my mind off the broken hip and dislocated shoulder sure to follow this adventure.

But first, we are stopping at an outlet mall. The kids are very excited about snowboarding, but Matt in particular, in preparation for law school, loves shopping at outlet stores. He intends to be if not the best law student, at least the best dressed law student. He loves finding $2000 shirts for $10, and seems to have a knack for doing so. So we will spend the afternoon, wandering stores, without a toenail. (The better writers in the group are no doubt laughing and saying "Of course stores don't have toenails," but I must admit I am unsure how to phrase this so it is clear that it is me, not the store that doesn't have a toenail.)

Please do not tell my kids , but this one is for them. I really have very little desire to snowboard (can you tell?) and even shopping has lost its allure for me. We are currently booked in a very low cost and I fear moldy hotel, but it is just for one night. This is an offering of love to the children that I can never hold as tightly or as closely as I wish or they would suffocate.

Sometimes, despite your own taste in music, you listen to someone else's favorite song. Every parent out there knows that at times, you must subject yourself to the musical whims of your progeny just because you love them. You grab any connection to them you can as they blow up the balloon of life and start to float away from you.

And the strangest thing is, I come to love it all.... not for the intrinsic love of the activity itself, or the loud song itself, but for the joy of doing it with the people that I love so much. I remember once when I asked Arvo if he wanted to go to the playground with us, he told me, no, I could go, because I loved it so much. I stood there stunned.
"You think I love pushing swings, chasing toddlers, and riding dinosaur see saws?"
"You seem to, " he told me.
I am here to admit right now that I do not love pushing swings or riding dinosaur see saws.... but what I do love is seeing the joy in my child's face because she loves it. (well, used to... she is 12 now and would not be caught dead on a dinosaur see saw)

And this I realize is how we are to pursue God. Not to bargain for all the good things He will bring us that will make our lives fun and easy.... but to try to discern what He desires, and find joy in fulfilling that. I suspect that if I cannot do that, I really don't know what it means to love God, or anyone for that matter.

So, probably no blog post tomorrow. I will be off singing my children's songs......

Deuteronomy 30:20
and that you may love the LORD your God, listen to his voice, and hold fast to him. For the LORD is your life

Picnics of Life

Life is no picnic, but without picnics life would not be so much fun. So this is our picnic week. Matt is home from college for Spring break, and we have big plans. We are taking the week off from homeschool (mostly) and if it doesn't rain, we plan to hit the slopes (the bunny slopes, and only the bunny slopes) to learn to snowboard mid-week. If there are no blog posts Wed. and Thursday morning, it is safe to assume that I am lying in a hospital bed somewhere with 3 broken arms and don't know my name.

If however, I emerge unscathed along with Matt and Asherel, it will be one of those picnic moments in life, those times when you purposefully put aside all the siren demands. I know how it goes with kids graduating from college... they get this harebrained idea that they are adults and able to leave their parents and strike out on their own. They are filled with high ideals of independence, and self sufficiency, armed only with our credit card....

Thus we are doing perhaps our last picnic with Matt, which is the main reason I hope we don't break or chip any important body parts snowboarding. Asherel recently asked, "Why did God rest on the 7th day? Do you think He was really tired?"

I know I would be, particularly after creating the duck billed platypus. He was obviously out of ideas for either mammals or birds, so he made a hodge-podge with the platypus. But the Hebrew word "kalah" used in the verse that tells us God completed his work, means He "fullfilled" a goal. It is the same concept as the word teleos, the Greek word used much later in the New Testament for Jesus' last utterance from the cross, "It is finished!" (It is completed, it is fullfilled.) So I don't think God was tired in either case. I think He had reached His goal, and there was nothing left to do for a little while. In the first case, He had created the universe, and in the second, He had made a way for a fallen universe to be covered in righteousness and make its way back to a Holy God. Even more interesting, the word "rested" used when God finished creating is the Hebrew word Shabath, and means to cease and celebrate! God was having a picnic in a sense, a celebration of His completed work.

Now my work is not completed in the same way at all.... but I do think that Matt is a fine creation which I had a small part in, and graduation from college is a fulfillment of sorts. So we are taking some time off, not a full fledged rest because the goals aren't reached yet, but just a picnic of sorts, a little moment of delight on the bunny slope.... and only the bunny slope.


Esther 9:17
...they rested and made it a day of feasting and joy.

Genesis 2:2-3
² By the seventh day God had finished the work he had been doing; so on the seventh day he rested from all his work. ³ And God blessed the seventh day and made it holy, because on it he rested from all the work of creating that he had done.