you can't come soon enough

I cannot wait for summer.
I am extremely excited for warmth, for the ability to spend time outside (reading, swinging, running, biking), to wear sandals, to get some good ol' vitamin D, to not do school, and the list goes on.

We set up a basketball hoop in the church parking lot this week. This is exciting. Basketball, to me, means warmth (yes, I know basketball is a winter sport, but this ties in with having had a hoop in our driveway for probably the last 6 years or so)- warm leather, warm concrete, warm sunlight- and games with Zoe and/or Dad.
We have to lay the hoop down in the grass next to the parking lot on Bible study, food pantry, and church days (ok, so pretty much whenever we're not using it) so more people can park, but we're ok with that. :)

I got a new bike today. Huffy Cranbrook. It's beautiful, and I'm not too big for it. I'll ride it to the beach constantly in the summer. I'll get a basket for it, plop in a book, towel, and water bottle, and be off.


If you couldn't tell, I'm having a major drooling-for-warmth-and-summer-break moment. But I'd happily take warmth by itself, if it wanted to come earlier than break...

a happy tired

Last Sunday seems like it was some time last month. It’s been a long week- not necessarily in a bad way, though.

                I got asked to teach piano lessons to a couple of elementary school girls. I’m hopefully going to teach them the basics of sheet music and chords (beyond that, I got nothin’). We had our first lesson on Tuesday, and it started out a little wobbly, but once I figured out where to start, it was good :). I think the girls may actually have learned something!!

                We’ve had a carpenter from church here for most of the week working on our bathroom downstairs. She’s taken out the sink and toilet, scraped up the yucky linoleum floor, and laid us a beautiful tile floor so far. Next week, she’ll finish grouting the floor and we’ll paint, then we’ll put the appliances back in.

                With her have come her two daughters (my piano students), and we’ve had a good time playing basketball, swinging, puzzle-piecing, card-and-paper-fashion-making, and library-going with them.

                Also this week, we had Addie, my brother’s fantastic 2-yr.-old, spend the night with us. I played with her most of the day on Thursday. :) I also got to go to the beach with her- a trip she LOVED. It was low tide and too cold for her to take her shoes off, but I having the insensitive hillbilly feet that I do, I slipped mine off and carried her to the water. It was awesome. Favorite quotes of the beach trip:

“The waves are splashing to me!!”

(gasping as she saw a wave roll up) “Oh no!! It’s gonna get us!!”

                Also on that trip, I found a sand dollar! It’s little and grey. I’ve never seen a gray sand dollar before. But it rocks. :)

                We’ve had our doors open and seemingly random people in and out of the house all week. I love it! I thrive on fellowship, and I’m always happy when someone shows up for a visit.

                All this, together with that painful decision about Moldova (see previous post) has added up to make me pretty tired, but I’m tired and happy, which is the best tired to be.

moldova 2011

For a couple months now, I’ve been prayerfully considering a return to Moldova this year. I’ve wanted to do God’s will, and yet of course there is part of me that wants to go whether it’s right in His eyes or not.

Whether God could use me there, whether I would learn from the experience, whether I could raise support… These weren’t really the questions. The question was “is God calling me to go to Moldova in 2011?”

                At the beginning of this week, I felt confident that I should go. My one catch: if the dates of the First Baptist of Hampton camping trip/VBS conflicted with the dates of the Moldova trip, I would take it as a God-sign and say no.

                Tuesday morning, I got the dates for the FBC trip. It was scheduled for the last 4 days of the 12-day Moldova trip. I calmly and quietly accepted: no Moldova.

                I went through Tuesday without telling anyone, except maybe Zoe, about it. Until Bible study. [I would just like to make a note that we have a Bible study made of myself and 3 of the awesomest girls in New Hampshire, led by the best-ever leader] There, Michelle [our leader], who’s been praying about it with me for the last few weeks, asked how it was going. I told her.

                During Bible study, there was a question in the material that sparked something. Zoe told us (she hadn’t said anything to anyone) that she’d been wondering if she should go to Moldova ever since I had. She had some very good reasons.

                We went home and talked to our parents, and, like the bull-headed little girl I can sometimes be, I grabbed on to the hope of going- again.

                By the end of our conversation, I was completely and totally confused and upset. I tried to put it out of my mind for the night, and met with moderate success.

                I woke up in the morning emotionally exhausted. Completely. I didn’t want to think about it, and so I tried not to, but of course I couldn’t help it. I had a couple conversations with my mother throughout the day, and went to bed torn for the second night in a row.

                On Wednesday, I knew I needed to make a decision soon. So did Zoe. Zoe decided not to go. In the afternoon, I called my former pastor, who heads up the team every year. I talked to him about what I was feeling, and he was very encouraging. Something great about Ted: even though he really wanted me to come and made no secret of it, he didn’t try to convince me. Ted asked me what my gut feeling was. At that point, I had no clue. I had been back and forth so much that my gut was as confused as the rest of me.

                I told Ted that last year, I hadn’t been as involved with the kids as I had wanted to be. And while that was ok, I knew I needed to do more if I went this year. I was wondering if there was a possibility that there would be more for me to do. He told me that his wife, who has been the American head of the children’s programs for the last couple of years, wanted to rotate towards women this year. This would leave a big hole, quite possibly to be filled by me.

                I had been feeling anxious to the point of nausea and jumpiness as I hemmed and hawed over my decision. When I heard they could really use me, I was suddenly relaxed. My stomach didn’t hurt and I was calm. I felt called to go. I spent a blissful evening of confidence, but I was questioning again soon.

                Thursday was another day of being caught up in a whirlwind of confusion. That night, I asked God to help me step back and look at things the way He wanted me to look at them. I asked that I either wake up knowing or know by the end of Friday.

                This morning, I woke up knowing. I didn’t want to admit that I knew, though, because I did not like the answer. My gut had figured itself out, and it said no. I still held on, though.

                This afternoon, my parents told me it was time to decide and asked me what I was thinking. I told them: I really, really want to go, but I don’t think it’s right. Five minutes later, Dad had fired off a text to the pastor to let him know Zoe and I wouldn’t be coming, and I was in tears.

                I wish I could say God gave me a sign that I needed to tell Ted I was coming, after all. I wish with all my heart that I could go.

I love those kids. So unspoiled and full of wonder and imagination, so ready to be shown God’s love via action (by the way, their parents do show them daily). I want to be the American who cares.

I love those adults: so obedient to God, so passionate about Him, so trustful towards Him, even though they live lives filled with extreme hardship. I wanted to be a blessing to them through their kids.

                Ted tells a story about the first year he went, how he was talking to people and getting email addresses and contact info, telling them he would write as soon as he got home. The missionary we work with in Moldova quietly took him aside and said, “Ted, don’t be a splash-‘n’-dash. Don’t tell them you care about them if you’re not willing to make them a priority. You’ll break their hearts if you don’t really keep in touch with them.” Ted’s response was that he wasn’t going to be a splash-’n’-dash. And I don’t want to be either. I hoped I could be an American they could count on, and I think maybe I still can be, just not this year.

                I really do have a heart for these people. I can’t say enough how much I wish I could go. But I’m not going because I’m not convinced God is telling me to.

                As I look back at all my see-sawing and holding on over the last couple of months, I realize that the lesson in this is probably just to let go if it’s not what God wants. I think I knew the whole time, underneath it all, that I probably shouldn’t go, but I wasn’t willing to admit it to myself, much less other people.

                It’s incredibly painful to let go. I’ve cried a lot today, and I’m not out of tears yet. But I think I really am making the right decision, as much as my heart cries out against being torn like this. I need to put out roots here this summer, and the VBS trip will be a good way to do that. But it’s more than that. If I believed in astrology, I’d say the stars had aligned to keep me from going to Moldova. I’m a Christian, so I say that it just wasn’t in God’s plan for me this year.

                This does not mean in any way that I’m not going back to Moldova. In fact, I firmly believe that I’ll visit it again in the future. Just not now. But I can’t wait for the day when I am able to play soccer (horribly) with those little boys and hug those little girls again.

               

(practically) new room

So, my room is officially redecorated. Well... It's painted and there are curtains and some things on the walls, and that was all it needed to be just right for me :)

gotta showcase the painting!

aaand my mirror distorts things. note the curvy edges on the bureau in the reflection.

gilmore girls

"Hi. I'm Jack."
"Paris."
"Did your parents travel a lot?"
"What? No. Why?"
"Well, your name is Paris."
"Oh. Did your parents change flat tires a lot? Or plug phones into the wall a lot?"
"No."
"Well, now that we've got THAT out of the way..."

I could quote Gilmore Girls 'till the cows come home. It's the satire I wish was ok to use in real life.

dogs and roosters, grandparents and aunts

Whenever I’m in Maine, I want to write. Is it how pretty it is here? Is it how almost everything I touch has a special memory attached? Or is it just because I have nothing better to do?

My Grammy loved roosters and chickens. She had lots of rooster/chicken things. She had salt and pepper shakers. She had cookie jars and timers. She had little figurines. The timer has passed on, the cookie jars are with my cousin, and, quite frankly, who wants salt and pepper shakers shaped like roosters? But the little glass chickens still sit in the windows for all to see and remember. There are also a few other little pieces of memorabilia that have lasted.

Last surviving rooster glass, and my favorite.

These hang in the kitchen/dining room.

I don’t see a rooster anywhere without thinking of Grammy for just a second, at least.

Since my aunt came to live with Grampa a couple of years ago, a lot of things about the house have changed. But they're good changes. Sometimes it's easy to just want to hold onto the "perfect" pass in whatever ways we can, but in the end, it's not healthy. Moving on is incredibly important, and even a little change in decor can help with the process.
 

Today in a few words: dogs; snow; aunts; laughter; cookies; pictures; wind; chili; boots.

My aunt Francine comes over for a couple hours, and we just sit and talk. We laugh a lot- about things that my aunts and mom remember from childhood, about the way we are... I love these ladies.

The dogs are nuts. We Lowes brought our dog up to Maine for the first time this week, and it's the first time Brutus and Annie, the big, beautiful boxers belonging to my aunts and uncle, have met him. James is about 1/2 the size of Annie, who is considerably smaller than her son Brutus. When all three of them are in the room together, the background noise (if you can call it that) is the loud sound of 60 hard little dog's nails clicking on the wood and tile floors. 

James is a little intimidated by the other dogs, who don't appear to like him very much- he's too timid to really play with them, for the most part. They do things like block his path up the deck stairs until a human comes along to make them move. But they usually behave, and all's pretty much well when they're outside. 

Yesterday, Zoe and I attempted to go sledding with a girl we’ve known all our lives from Grampa’s church. Attempted was the key word. We have to remember, in the future, that sledding should not be tried when the snow is at least 2 feet deep and you are walking to your hill. We each slid down the hill once or twice. Then, we sat on our sleds in the snow and threw snowballs at each other. We walked home (my feet were so numb I could hardly feel the floor under them) and had hot chocolate. It was fun, but next time I go, we either need a better hill or about 20 less inches of snow.