A post about....um...stuff?

I took this afternoon off work so I could get my teeth drilled (sadly, I am no longer a member of the Cavity-Free Kids Club) and since I was just sitting here waiting for dinner to cook and the kids to finish school so I could grade them, I had this great idea that I should blog something.

I really want to write a blog post about learning language. Preferably in Spanish, since I am getting so good at it I am even impressing myself. But no point in doing that since most of my friends wouldn't be able to read it. Maybe someday when I'm feeling a bit more ambition I'll do the bilingual thing--write a paragraph in Spanish, and then translate it to English. But then I'd have to do it in Word and then copy in paste, because I don't have accent marks on my keyboard. But yeah, I'm just so excited about how far I've come in the past year since I graduated from college. I feel like in school, I learned how to put my shoes on and tie them, and this year I've learned to run.

Our cat is pregnant, by the way. We banished her to being an outside cat because we don't want to risk fleas when we are trying to sell the house. She's been hanging with the neighbor cat, who now eats her cat food, and they've invited a raccoon over to share the bounty. Our cat obviously makes poor choices in a mate.

Anyway, back to language. All I want to say is that if you want to really learn a language, I advise two things: Listen and read. I have been listening to sermons as often as possible in Spanish, and in just a few months I have gone from barely picking up a word or two to understanding casi todo (that's "almost everything") that I hear. At least in a sermon. My extensive biblical vocab helps a lot, because I've been reading the Bible exclusively in Spanish for the last year and a half. For someone like me, raised in church, this has made reading the Bible much more interesting. I am the type that reads a book once and then never reads it again, so the Bible...well, I've read it. It's hard to get interested in reading something I've read and heard preached on so often I could do it myself. But this way, in another language, is muy interesante! (That's "very interesting," for my monolingual amigos out there)

Oh, and Jay is moving out Sunday, moving to Indiana to work for my parents. He's all grown up. He was seven when I started this blog. Seven! Can you believe it? He's eighteen. It's true what they say about them growing up so fast. I didn't used to believe it. And Joy just got her first job, working in the convent that Jay was working at. And Sarah is in Driver's Ed. Remember when she used to be afraid of the cat walking down the street in the opposite direction when we lived in Missouri? Remember little Abby, who didn't know the words to say she'd had enough sleep, so she would tell me she was full? She's going to be 14 in a couple of weeks. I remember when I couldn't wait to have teenagers. I will have five by the end of the year. Rachel, who was just a baby when I started this blog is taller than me now, and Timothy, who wasn't even born yet, is ten!

The timer went off on the oven. Excuse me un momento.

You should be very jealous of the food I just made. If I was the type to do so, I would take a picture and post it on Facebook.

I should mention that I am not on any sort of mind-altering drugs from the dentist. I am writing in this disjointed manner because I want to and it's my blog and I can do with it what I want. Y, es lo que quiero.

An announcement

Today Erick made the difficult announcement that he is resigning as pastor of our New Salem Assembly of God. For now, he will not be taking another pastorate, because he has been offered the opportunity to be mentored by one of the pastors at Calvary Temple in Springfield. Although we are sad about leaving our church, we are excited about the opportunities we will have there. We will miss the people at our church, who are like family to us, but know that God is in this decision and that it will be a good step for us and for our kids.

Along with the mentoring program, Calvary Temple also offered Erick a full-time job working at one of their ministries; Hope Thrift Center in Springfield. He began working there part time a couple of weeks ago and will be going full time after his last day, which will be March 22nd. It is a very nice thrift store, with high-quality merchandise.

Since Erick and I are both going to be working days now, this is going to make it difficult to continue homeschooling. However, we really do not want them to have to go to public school. Calvary Temple runs a private school, so we are praying for God's provision to put Abby, Rachel, and Timothy in their school this fall. Jay will be graduated by then, Joy will only have a year to go, and Sarah will be in her Junior year this fall, so they want to finish out their education at home and I think they will be fine doing that on their own.

It's quite a transition for us, but we really want to stay here. I have a good job here with the Illinois State Police, and there's not really any reason to move. The district leaders have invested a lot of time in Erick and me, and we feel this is where we should stay for this next season in our lives. We will probably put our house up for sale and move to Springfield, though, if God should give us the opportunity, since most of our ties will be there.

We will miss the people at New Salem Assembly. They have been like family to us, and I am thankful for the time that we have been here. God has been good to us and we feel so blessed to have been a part of this ministry.

Thoughts on reaching out to those in pain

I have a friend who is going through a difficult time. She recently lost her child after a long fight with a debilitating disease. I have another friend whose daughter is struggling with mental illness. Another friend is devastated by the betrayal of a spouse. My heart breaks for my friends who are deeply hurting and crying out for answers, and far too often, I have nothing to offer them. Why do I come up short, especially when, as a Christian, I know God holds all the answers in His hands?

Unfortunately,experience has taught me that there is no right thing to say. because in those moments, everything I say seems wrong. Sometimes my words can be so clumsy. I've read articles with titles like "12 things not to say to a grieving mother" or "15 things not to say to the parents of a disabled child" and cringed at how many of them I've said. Did I mean to offend? Of course not. I meant to offer peace and comfort. Have I offered trite-sounding platitudes in place of genuine love and care? Probably. I have opened my mouth expecting words of healing to flow, and instead my words sound hollow and meaningless. I'm sorry for your loss. I'm praying for you. God is in control.  I don't know the words to say, or how to express that I care. Sometimes well-meaning bloggers have given me better lines, lines that are supposed to help instead of add to the wounds, but I can't remember them. All I remember is the part that says better to just stay silent and give a hug. So more and more often, I say less and less. And then one day I read another article written by someone who went through a tragic time, and no one in her church said anything to her. Nobody reached out to her, nobody offered her words of comfort, not even trite ones. The silence hurt just as much as the clumsy words.

Is it better to reach out, knowing that I am not going to know what to say, or to play it safe so nobody gets hurt? Will those in pain understand that when I say those things that seem trite and meaningless, that I am trying to reach out because I care? When I hug you and awkwardly say, "It's okay," I know things really aren't okay. It just means that I wish they were okay. That if could, I would make everything okay. That I care deeply about you and I wish I could come swoop down and save the day, but I'm not able to. I don't have that power. Only God does. And I truly do pray that He will.

Remembering Grandma Luper

This is Leona Luper, my husband's paternal grandmother. She passed away last night. I think she was 86 or 87. She always told everyone she was 29 and that she had decided she wasn't getting any older than that.

Even though she was my husband's grandma, she was my grandma, too. I was only 16 when I met her, so I've known her most of my life. My own grandmothers both passed away several years ago, so I claimed her as my own.

Other than the furniture being rearranged from time to time, Grandma Luper's house was always exactly the same. The red and white pressed glass candy dish full of jelly beans or old fashioned hard candies. The glass cabinet full of her dolls. Her lighthouses, filling every shelf and corner. Grandma loved lighthouses and everyone knew it, so every birthday and Christmas she received more of them.

So many memories in that house. The Christmases and Thanksgivings where I was lucky to find a square foot of carpet to sit on, so full was the house of cousins and aunts and uncles and in-laws. My little babies, fascinated with the Scrooge doorknocker that said "Bah, humbug!" and the bells that lit up and played Christmas carols year after year. Grandma sitting on the floor, too, insisting that if it weren't for the kids, she wouldn't even bother with having furniture.

I remember bringing over laundry when we lived across the street and I didn't have a washer. I didn't ask her to fold my laundry for me; I just was hoping she'd let me wash my clothes. But she always managed to get them dried and folded for me before I could get back over there and take care of it myself.

Everything was always the same. Grandma would always talk about heaven, and about how much she loved her Jesus, and that someday she was going to go to heaven to be with her Jesus and see her son John again, who died of leukemia. She would always get tears in her eyes when she talked about heaven. Later, after Grandpa died, she would talk about seeing him, too.

Whenever we'd visit her, she would be so surprised to see us and jump up to greet us with a long, hug and a kiss. She would hug us as if she hadn't seen us in a long, long time, and when we left, she would hug us all again as if it might be the last time. Nobody left Grandma's house without a hug, even if she had just met you that day.

One of my kids remarked that she thought Grandma would live forever. It just felt like that she should. She should always be there, in Grandpa's old blue recliner, watching the Gaithers sing on TV, being ready for us to come visit her, no matter when we decided to show up. She should never grow any older, never act her age. She should always be the forever 29-year old grandmother sitting on the floor playing with the babies.

The funeral will probably will be Tuesday or Wednesday, so we'll be headed back to Indiana. I'm sure everyone will be there. Even Uncle Jim is flying from California. It's been so long since everyone has been together. It's kind of sad that it takes a funeral to get the whole family together.

I'm sure it will sink in eventually that she's in heaven now, with Grandpa and John. I'm sure she is having the time of her life. But we will certainly have a void on earth here without her. Things just aren't going to be the same anymore.