Paint and Pallet

The STP was so glad to have me home that he just let me do whatever I wanted to do today. And I wanted to paint this sign for my patio.  So I did. 

Unlikely Events

While we were waiting out the thunderstorm, waiting for takeoff aboard the 757 at O'hare, the pilot suggested we listen to the flight attendants' little presentation on exits, seatbelts, oxygen masks falling from overhead, and flotation devices--in case of an 'unlikely event'.  I believe his exact words were, "Better to know it and not need it, than to need it and not know it."  Happy to report that the plane landed safely in Denver without the occurance of any unlikely events.  So just in case this was my really lucky day, or in case I still had an unlikely event coming my way, I stopped between flights to purchase myself a lottery ticket.

Because you have to play to win.  And my chances were as good as anyone else's.  And better than most Wyoming residents, because true to it's empty map self, Wyoming is one of the 8 states that does not participate in the MEGAmillions lotto.  And even though my chances of winning were slightly less than dying of a lightning strike, I had already lived through a thunderstorm and avoided a plane crash into water earlier that very day. so I was feeling pretty good about my chances.  I could hear that pilot's voice in my head:  "Better to have played and lost, than to never have played." 

I didn't play your birthday.  Or mine.  I let Jesus pick the numbers.  When I got home, I fessed up to the STP that I had gambled a dollar.  And along with the rest of the country, we discussed what we would do with our my millions. I wanted to wait until today to check my numbers.  You know, go to bed with the possibility of being a multimillionaire still on the table.  But the STP talked me into checking last night.  And, sorry to say, I was not the big winner.
(The STP resisted the urge to say, " I wanna show you something, its my shocked face.")
At the end of the day I was not a millionaire.  But on the other hand, I did not get struck by lightning.  I did not have any use for an oxygen mask.  I did not get mauled by a polar bear and a regular bear in the same day.  So I went to bed thankful for the absence of any unlikely events in my day.
But if perchance Jesus helped you pick the winning numbers, I want you to know that I was going to totally share my winnings with you.

Can't Get There From Here

Searching for flights for the summer tour.  Typed in my destination and my travel dates and discovered to my dismay that my search yielded no available  flights.  Adjusted my dates and tried alternate points of departure.  NO MATCHING RESULTS.  A slight panic, major disbelief. Until I discovered that in airport mode PGH is Pantnagar not Pittsburgh. 
Tomorrow I fly from Chicago.

A Tree Grows in Mexico

In Mexico, I got to do a few of my favorite things.  Paint things, move rocks, and garden.
I watered avocado trees in the canyon.  And I watered apple trees at the farm.  And I will not complain about hauling buckets of water from my rain barrel to my SFG ever again for at least three months.
The canyon had an amazing cistern and hose system.  The most amazing thing was that it was on the side of a mountain.  And the trees that needed water were tucked along the mountainside.  In any nook and cranny where there was a semi-level spot.  And in numerous places where they created a semi level spot and stuck in a little tree. 

I tried to get a picture that would capture how much work was required to sustain an avocado plantation in a canyon.

Like extensive rock walls.  The Tarahumara, in addition to being amazing barefoot ultramarathon runners, build amazing rock walls.  The very sight of these struck terror into the hearts of the Goob and the STP.  As though I would get ideas in my head and make them haul more rocks into my yard. Really.

See my friend Lori waiting for me to feed her more hose?  While I am already occupied taking her picture?  But, no really, see how much of a mountainside we were on?

The apple trees at the farm had challenges of their own.  The STP planted some of these two years ago.  And it was encouraging to see them growing.  Because the STP has not been as lucky with the trees he has planted here in Dodge City. 

We watered the apple trees at the farm with a 5 gallon bucket.  With a hole in the bottom of it.

So we filled the bucket as fast as we could and then poured what was left in the bucket into a wheel barrow (which also had a hole) and wheeled the water to the trees that were just planted.  Our goal was to get 10 gallons on each of the twenty trees that were newly planted. 

So the question is, if we filled the leaking 5 gallon bucket two times and poured it into the leaking wheel barrow, and wheeled the sloshing leaking wheelbarrow a fair distance to the trees, and did that about 20 times, how much water did each tree get?  (If we were going 80 mph?)

The answer is that nothing is Mexico is easy.  And in addition to flexibility, you need adaptability.  And maybe some chewing gum, which will at least temporarily fix a hole in a bucket.

Side note:  The lilac between my rain barrel and my SFG shows signs of life.  I rewarded it with a two gallon bucket of water.

You Might Be In Trouble if....

...your report card comes certified mail.

No Speakum Spanish

I own Rosetta Stone.  Not the company.  I own a set of Rosetta Stone CDs which, if Michael Phelps is to be believed, should have helped me learn Spanish way before now.  In actuality, I have made slow progress through unit one.  Which did help me know the M on the outhouse door did not stand for Men.  And if I had seen any 'ninos' on 'bicycletas' I would have been golden.  One word I picked up quickly in Mexico was POLICIA.  Because part of the whole mission trip to Mexico involved driving after dark.  When flashing red and blue lights, and burly men dressed in dark colors with big weapons, are just a tad scarier than in the light of day.  When we were pulled over for the third time or so, the policia approached our van first.  Because I guess we were the most suspect.  And our driver, a retired Americano Policia himself, managed to stammer out, "Americano.  No speak..., um, Spanish."  Because even with Rosetta Stone in your pocket it's hard to think of words like 'Espanol' on a dark deserted Mexican road with an automatic weapon pointed your direction.

I took a blurry picture from the back seat, so you could feel the fear yourself.  (Just another service I provide for you, my faithful readers.) 

I spent the rest of my time in the car learning and reviewing the first names of everyone on our team.  Because our fearless leader, (who I believe had a few fearful moments himself throughout the week) suggested that the most important thing we would build on this trip was relationships.  Which comes about as naturally to me as Spanish.  It isn't for lack of trying, just that I really have to work at it.  I am the person about whom people might ask at the end of ten days with me, "What's your name, again?"  or more likely to wonder aloud, "The STP's wife was with him?"

Mostly I hung out with the STP, or when he wasn't available with my friend Lori.  Who, without any Spanish language skills to mention, still managed to build relationships.  Because she spoke a universal language. 

Where unit one includes the phrase,"Tebow, Tebow, Tebow."

And reaching out cements new friendships.

And pointing is worth a thousand words.

Where a giggle can substitute for any words you don't know.

And sharing yourself gets you invited in to the inner circles.

My friend Lori speaks the language of John 15:9.

The STP preached about this verse through an interpreter.  (Because he is not any further in Rosetta Stone than I am.)    

My friend Lori speaks love.  Which doesn't require much interpretation.  I'm glad I invested a week deepening my relationship with her.

John 15:9  As the Father has loved me,

 so have I loved you. 

United We Stand

We decided to fly to El Paso to begin our Mexico adventure.  Because we wanted to miss a minimal amount of school and work, and because the last thing we wanted to do was drive a long distance and arrive late, tired, and exhausted to begin our trip.
Cody to Denver, Denver to El Paso.

The STP set the alarm for 3 am.  So we would be on time for our 6:30am flight.  Which boarded on time.  And taxied to the runway on time.  And then it got complicated.  As in aborted take-off complicated.  And I admire the pilot for being able to make a decision between revving the engine and the end of the runway that allowed for a safe return to the airport terminal. 
So one airplane mechanic and two hours later, we tried again.  With great success.  And we arrived in Denver at 10:20am.  Too bad for us, our flight for El Paso took off on time at 10:17am. 
And then things got a little more complicated by the United computer fiasco.

Which was barely in service.  As noted by the long lines at customer service and the blank computer screens which should have been displaying departing flights.  45 minutes later the customer service representative, with the aid of 2 IT people and 2 computer manuals, managed to get me on a flight that evening, and the STP and the Goob on a flight late the next day or on standby, maybe.  Which wasn't really going to work for us.  So after 46 minutes, we told him to forget it.  I think he wanted to strangle us.  The feeling was mutual.  He gave me my boarding pass anyway.  I took it and thanked him for his trouble.  Which I think was only beginning.
How far is it from Denver to El Paso?  10 to 12 hours by car.

And can I just say that people in the travel industry should comb their hair, even if they have to work on Sunday mornings. 

 We paid extra for the GPS.  Because we really had no clue how to get from Denver to El Paso.

Me:  What states will we drive through?  Do we have to go all the way through Texas?  Texas is a big state.

STP:  Do we have any snacks?

Me:  No.  Because we are supposed to be relaxing in our hotel in El Paso before lunch.

Goob:  When is lunch?

Imagine our surprise to be welcomed to New Mexico.  And when we stopped to pick up a map at the welcome center, even more surprised to find El Paso  on the map.  Instead of having to drive the whole way through the great state of Texas we only had to drive about 20 miles into Texas.  And we really are good car travellers.  The STP did all the driving, the Goob slept and I took pictures out the window.

 We didn't see any muffler men, and the STP would not stop to take a picture of the giant pistachio nut. We arrived in El Paso before midnight. Having driven a great distance.  Late, tired, and exhausted.  Ready to begin our Mexico adventure and thankful that the only thing that crashed was a computer system. 

I Took This One Good Picture

I took 646 other pictures in the past week.  My camera battery was never dead.  My memory card was never full.  I have 600 blurry memory joggers.  I will share some of them with you.  But right now my body needs recharged and my mind is full to overflowing.  So I am going to bed. 
It's good to be home, but I'm glad I went.

Out of Touch

Back in a week and a half.  Until then I will be carrying on my Lenten quest to give food to the hungry, drinks to the thirsty, hospitality to the stranger, clothing to the naked, care to the sick, and visits to the prisoners while the dust accumulates here in my absence.
Just a side note that I wrote to someone in prison and then they got their whole Bible study to pray for me.  So if you get back more than you give, does that count? 
Lent is easier if you just give up diet Pepsi.

Packed My Bags

(When I was in grade school we used to sing this little song about being born on a farm down in Iowa.  It had a line in it which was "packed my bags and sacks of foam".  Many years later I realized the words were actually supposed to be "packed my bags and saxophone".)  ((Suddenly the "root-a-toot-toot" line made a lot more sense.))  (((Is it wrong to start writing parenthetically?)))
I am relatively all packed for Mexico.  But I am not necessarily ready to go to Mexico. The STP, the Goob, and I leave Sunday morning.  We have no idea what we will be doing, but we have adopted the motto "We Live to Serve."  Truthfully, I have adopted this motto on our behalf.  We are traveling to the not-a-tourist-area of Mexico.  This week I saw a commercial for tourism in Mexico.  Bright colors, fun music.  I think it was designed to make me forget the news stories about tourists in Mexico being robbed at gunpoint.  The newscaster said the robbery happened in the second most dangerous city in Mexico.  Then he mentioned that Juarez is the most dangerous city.  Juarez?  Yeah, that's on our itinerary.  In preparation for the trip I have been reading.  Born To Run--about ultra marathon runners in the Copper Canyon.  The Circle Maker--about praying big prayers.  And I just finished Small Things With Great Love--about loving people like God loves them.  A big thought from this book about going fearlessly where God calls us to go:

 Fathers who rush into burning buildings to save their children...aren't moved by courage...They're moved by love.... courageous self-giving love depends on God's unshakable love for us and God's unwavering love for those in need. 
Let's review the writing in the dust.  

I John 4:19  We love because He first loved us.
Luke 17:33 Whoever tries to keep their life will lose it, and whoever loses their life will preserve it.

So my plan is to go fearlessly where God calls me.  Unshakable love.  Great big prayers.  And maybe even some bright colors and fun music.

Sad Truth

I don't have any chalk.

Ms Brenda Paints an Appliance

I have a refrigerator.  It moved across the country with me in the truck.  It keeps my food cold.  And my popsicles frozen.  It has been doing all of that since the last century.   

It suffered a few scratches on the cross country trip,which I cleverly covered with large magneted items stuck to the front of it.  I wanted a new refrigerator.  Like on HGTV.  I priced new refrigerators.  But since the last book I read was about starving people in Mexico, and  the one I am currently reading is about loving poor people, (Not to mention the next one is entitiled "Living Simpler") and because I priced new refrigerators, I decided to paint my refrigerator.

And before I could paint it I had to clean the outside of it.  (I wasn't painting the inside, so there was absolutely no reason to get carried away and clean inside or even under the refrigerator.  In light of my Lenten committment, I felt a little guilty cleaning off the top.)  And it looked a lot better just being clean. 

But I had already bought a quart of Chalkboard Paint.  So I pressed on.  As in, I pressed on the blue tape.

And once the STP roughed up the finish inside the tape lines, I was pretty much committed. 

And after one coat, I thought maybe I should be committed.  Or maybe I would be getting a new refrigerator after all.

But really,  it did not turn out too bad.  I can't write on it until tomorrow.  So you will just have to imagine it covered in totally cute chalk drawings.  Recipes.  Stick figures.  Go on use that imagination. 

I'm pretty pleased with it.  Too bad it has to sit next to my stove. 

Which was bought off of Craig's List,  moved in the truck, damaged and repaired with coated wire.  But since it still cooks and bakes as much as I desire to and as well as I aspire to, I am going to keep it at least until April.  When hopefully God will lead me to read something a little less convicting.

The Writing On The End Table

Dust a reminder before my Mission trip to Mexico.

  Luke 17:33