Dresser without drawers gets a new life

I love old wood. This is a project that I stressed over and put off for a long time, but it ended up being quite simple. Hopefully this will inspire someone else to save an old family heirloom.

When we found this old dresser in my parents attic, I was taken aback by the beauty of the design and the wood, and also so sad, because it had no drawers. We didn't know what to do with it, but it was much too pretty to throw away, so it was placed in a corner of my sister's shed with my name of it. I forgot about it until I noticed it again 15 years later and was like, "Duh, I could add shelves." I brought it home and it sat at my house for several more months while I worried about how to accomplish this.

I thought about hiring my nephew, who is a professional woodworker, but I kind of wanted to do it myself. I am not extremely handy, even though I try. I'm the person who hangs my own curtain rods with much sweat and tears, and ends up with five extra holes in the wall.

Still, I wanted to try this project because when something does work out, it's fun! Finally I worked up the courage. I measured the spaces where the shelves would go....then measured again. I picked out a very long piece of shelving wood at Lowe's and had them cut it down to size with their nice big saw. I only own a small Black and Decker that would have murdered that wood. Then I brought the pieces home and held my breath as I slid them in to see if they would fit. (The board was non-refundable because it was cut, and too expensive to buy again.) I was blessed to find that the top two shelves slid right in without much problem. The bottom shelf was a little more problematic since the drawer slides were missing. I was able to secure it with some simple brackets though.

I thought I wanted to stain the shelves to match the wood of the dresser, but this wasn't working out too well, so I decided to just go with black paint, and I'm pleased with how it turned out. I went to about five different stores picking out the baskets. Then I just mixed them up to create the eclectic mismatched look that I love.

Monkey Bars and Chimney Tops

I was sure that it was a bad idea for John to hike to the top of a mountain, the last part of which involved scaling bare rock without ropes. It sounded dangerous and my instinct was to pull out all the stops to plead with him not to do it. My pride told me to fight, fight, fight. I felt responsible for his safety. If I let up, and something bad happened, it would be my fault. 

Fortunately, in the midst of my fuming and scheming, I had a moment of humility, and remembered to pray. I said to God, "I don't know it all. I can't control it all. Please give me wisdom." 

As the Lord spoke to my heart, the fog of my brain cleared, and I remembered way back in elementary school when I used to walk the monkey bars. Most kids would crawl across, but that was too boring for me. I have always had excellent balance, so for me, walking across the top, no hands, was the only way to go. I'm sure this was terrifying to the recess guard, who reported it to my teachers, who reported it to my parents. I was commanded to stop. 

I recently read an article explaining the importance of letting kids take risks because it is important for their psychological and physical development. Humph. If only my parents had let me continue walking the monkey bars, where would I be now? Olympic athlete? President of a corporation? Ok, maybe not. But we will never know. 

But at least this helped me to loosen up a bit on my husband. I decided to let him take a risk. I even decided to go on the hike with him. Gasp. And when we got to the rock climbing part, I didn't scream. Amazingly, he made a wise decision without my assistance, and stopped short of the steepest and most treacherous part of the climb. 

Also, I loved this hike. It was a 1,400 foot ascent in 2 miles, and I got a taste of hikers euphoria. I was practically skipping on the way down. 

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart
And do not lean on your own understanding.
In all your ways acknowledge Him,
And He will make your paths straight."

Proverbs 3:5-6

Crosses and Towels

There is an old saying that we all have a “cross to bear” in this life. I have always disliked this saying because it is wrong. Yes, you have a unique burden to bear in life, but please don’t call it your cross. A cross is not for carrying around; it’s a place to die.

Jesus said to his followers, "Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.” (Matt 16:24) Where did Jesus go with his cross? He didn’t carry it around and show it to people and talk about how heavy it was. He died on it, and if we want to be his follower, he says we must do the same.

Those are heavy words. What kind of religious leader asks all his disciples to follow him to his execution? He tries to help us understand as he goes on to say "For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it." As we lose our selfish way of living, we exchange it for real life.

He is not talking about physical death, though losing your life for Jesus can sometimes lead to this. We will all leave our bodies eventually, but the death he wants us to die starts now, while we are still alive in our bodies. The apostle Paul explains what it means to die, yet continue to live. “I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.” (Galatians 19:20)

What does it mean to die, yet continue to live? It means giving up pride, and the right to be treated fairly by the world, or even by your best friend, because you know these things are meaningless compared to the value of who you are to God.

Jesus knows exactly who he is, and where he stands with the Father and this is why it is easy for him to serve others and perform menial tasks without shame. He knows that the opinions of men mean nothing, and to be the greatest, you must be the servant of all. (John 13)

Jesus showed his greatest humility when he died for us, but he also showed us what it means to die, yet continue to live when he served his disciples by washing their feet. He took up the task of the lowest servant of the culture at that time by picking up a towel, and bending down to clean the smelly filth and grime between their toes. Then he asked them, and us, to do the same for each other.

If you want to be like Jesus, it's time to stop carrying your cross around town. It's time to die on that cross. It's time to die to your pride and your right to be heard, respected and appreciated. Only then can you can rise to truly live, by picking up a towel. 

Four Reasons To Love “Call the Midwife”

It’s hard to believe how awesome this show is, so I thought I should let you all know. Here are the four reasons why I love this show. (Seasons 1-2 are available free on Netflix.)

1)     Positive Portrayal of Christians

Seriously, this should not be so rare, but it is. Christians in this show display morals, compassion, and common sense, just like the ones I know in real life. How refreshing to see the entertainment industry creating a show that brings this truth to the screen.

2)     No Wasted Characters

I won’t spoil it by telling you who my favorites are, but after finishing season three, I think I can say I have fallen in love with all of them. They are real people, just like us – fat, skinny, oddly shaped, and of course multi-dimensional the way a good character should be. I could just hug them and take them home with me.

3)     Accurate Historically and Medically

It’s based on Jenny Worth’s memoirs, so it’s a true story. I spoke with a real midwife about the show and she said, “Yeah, that’s basically what I do. I just use a car instead of a bike.” You get a great sense of poverty and health care in the 50’s in London, and how things have progressed, for better and for worse.

4)     British People

Because British people rock. We have to put on subtitles to understand what they are saying, but that’s ok, because they rock. Think Downton Abbey, but with better morals, and even better characters and story.    

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1983079/ 

Finding the Master

I sometimes have to take my dog out to the backyard at night when it’s dark. I walk us out with a flashlight, then when we get to the backyard, I untie her from her leash and wait while she does her business. I keep an eye on her with the flashlight, but I have found that when I want her to come, I have to shine the light on myself. When I shine it on her, she can’t see me and doesn’t know where to come to. But when I shine it on myself, it is easy for her to see where the master is, and she comes running.

God is the same way with us. He doesn’t glorify himself or put attention on himself because he is narcissistic or selfish. He does it because that’s what is best for us. He is the one with the light. We are the ones who need to see the light, come, and be led home.

“This is the message we have heard from him and declare to you: God is light; in him there is no darkness at all.” 1 John 1:5

Truth: The Ultimate Attitude Adjuster

Something happened tonight that was a disappointment and an inconvenience. My instant reaction was to be miffed. I almost let it ruin my day.

Fortunately, as I was driving home I remembered a recent sermon from Danny Bryant. He talked about how the enemy of our souls knows he is not going to win, but he’s mad about it, so he does all he can to hurt us anyway. It’s just like the way a losing team behaves in the last quarter of a game when they know they have no chance of winning. The still give the winning team a hard time because it’s all they can do. They know they can’t win.

From this I developed a picture of a Chihuahua nipping at my heels. He can bruise and bite, but he can’t do me any real and permanent harm. The very worst the enemy can do to us is like a Chihuahua nipping at our heels, compared to the weight of glory we will inherit in the end.

This image made me laugh…out loud. The day was saved and my attitude took a 180, not because of my will power or determination but because I realized the truth. The truth is this: We win!

Nothing that happens in this world is worth worrying about. It’s all just Chihuahuas.

“For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.” 2 Cor 4: 17-18

Happy Father's Day!

I love these two pictures of my dad because the black and white one is just classic and the other tells three huge things about his life and character. 1) He loved airplanes. 2) He loved being silly 3) He never gave up on living. When he stopped being able to walk, he never complained; He just rode his scooter to the tractor or lawn mower or airstrip and kept doing what he wanted to do. 

When you lose your parents, it doesn't get easier, it gets harder as you get older. The older I get the more I think of things I would like to talk to them about or laugh with them about. I realize how much I squandered my short time with them by my immaturity. At the same time, I have the firm hope of seeing them again, I carry great memories, and I know that they are not far away.

Happy Father's Day.

15 Year Anniversary

June 12, 2014 (13 photos)

So thankful for my wonderful life with my sweet husband and best friend, John Michalak. I grow to love and respect you more each year. After all this time, you are still my favorite person, and home with you is my favorite place. Happy 15 years.

John surprised me with these roses
 for our 15th anniversary

 

This was taken in 1998, the
summer before we got engaged.

The Round Barn Inn where we got married.

We took a carriage ride around
Indianapolis after the wedding.

Career Choices: I don’t have this figured out yet, but I’ve learned a few things

March 5, 2014 at 7:03pm

PublicFriendsFriends except AcquaintancesOnly MeCustomClose FriendsFamilySee all lists...South High SchoolNorthviewHallelujah AcresMiscNew Creation LifeUniv of ArizonaHoly Trinity LutheranMusiciansTerre HauteCoveNorth CarolinaIndiana UniversityCommunity CrossingHallelujah AcresNashville, Tennessee AreaUniversity of ArizonaStatesville, North Carolina AreaEnergyUnitedTerre Haute South Vigo High SchoolFamilyAcquaintancesGo Back

My inspiration for today is Julia Child. She was about my age when she started her TV series "The French Chef." It's good to be reminded that you are never too old to do something entirely new and find something you are passionate about that will also change the world.

I just watched an episode from Julia’s first series on making quiche Lorraine. She was nervous and a little awkward, but cute as heck, and most of all passionate. Every once in a while you see a little smile come over her face and you are reminded that she enjoys what she’s doing. She gets a kick out of it.

Having a health crisis that forced me to take a three month break from working was a good opportunity for me to do some much needed soul searching.

Two things I learned about work:
1) Work is hard.
2) Without work, life is BORING!

When I quit my job in October, I didn’t think I would ever go back to a programming job. I was focused on all the negatives. I explored every career choice imaginable and tried a few on for size. Three months later, I’m back at a programming job and loving it. But I’ve made a few adjustments because….

I learned a few things about myself:
1) I don't like cubicles.
2) I need to be around people.
3) I hate working 40 hours a week.
4) I like solving problems; I’m a good analyst. I just needed to find a way to do this while still satisfying items 1-3.

During this process of deciding how to return to work, I met a recruiter at TEKsystems named Alathea. She listened patiently while I rambled on about what I liked and didn’t like about my programming jobs, and together we figured out what was most important to me. Then she found me a job, doing what I do best, and avoiding the things I hate.

No matter what you do, there are always going to be moments that are frustrating or boring that are going to make you question your life and choices. That’s because work is work. If it were easy, everyone would do it.

But if, like Julia, there are moments in your day, or at least your week, when a smile takes over your face, success after a long and difficult project takes your breath away, and at least some part of you – your intellect, strength, or creativity is tapped to the max and beyond what you thought you were capable of, then I’d say count yourself fortunate.

At the same time most of us are not going to find one occupation that encapsulates all of our hopes and dreams. I had to learn to stop freaking out about this. The solution for me is to work part-time, which buys me more time for my other passions.

Like I said, I don’t have it all figured out, but I have more peace about digging in every day, even in the moments when it’s not fun. Good hard work never hurt anybody.

You Could Learn a Lot From a Seed

February 3, 2012 at 7:07am

PublicFriendsFriends except AcquaintancesOnly MeCustomClose FriendsFamilySee all lists...South High SchoolNorthviewHallelujah AcresMiscNew Creation LifeUniv of ArizonaHoly Trinity LutheranMusiciansTerre HauteCoveNorth CarolinaIndiana UniversityCommunity CrossingHallelujah AcresNashville, Tennessee AreaUniversity of ArizonaStatesville, North Carolina AreaEnergyUnitedTerre Haute South Vigo High SchoolFamilyAcquaintancesGo Back

"...if you have faith as a mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move; and nothing will be impossible to you." (Matt 17:20)

I know the common interpretation of this verse is that if you have just a teeny tiny bit of faith, as much as a tiny mustard seed, that's enough to move mountains. I'm not saying that isn't true, but for a long time I've wondered if there could be another meaning. What if he was talking about the faith that a mustard seed possesses, rather than faith the size of a mustard seed? What if he was talking about the faith of a seed -  to be planted and to die - trusting that something greater will grow in it's place.  I do not know Greek and cannot say for sure what he meant. Maybe he meant it as a double meaning. Either way, it is an interesting thought.

We can learn a lot from a seed. What would it be like to have the kind of faith that moves you to get planted in the cold dark ground, not knowing the future, but trusting that something good is going to happen. Laying down your own ambitions, to let God create in you something you never could have been on your own. That would take a lot of faith. The kind that would move mountains.

The Advocate and the Accuser

December 28, 2011 at 7:13pm

PublicFriendsFriends except AcquaintancesOnly MeCustomClose FriendsFamilySee all lists...South High SchoolNorthviewHallelujah AcresMiscNew Creation LifeUniv of ArizonaHoly Trinity LutheranMusiciansTerre HauteCoveNorth CarolinaIndiana UniversityCommunity CrossingHallelujah AcresNashville, Tennessee AreaUniversity of ArizonaStatesville, North Carolina AreaEnergyUnitedTerre Haute South Vigo High SchoolFamilyAcquaintancesGo Back

I don’t have any kids but I have dogs - 2 BIG dogs...and they both sort of have “issues.” Bubby is really sweet and well adjusted, but she was hit by a car two years ago and so she can only use her front 2 legs to walk. Bella is normal physically, but she was abused before we got her. She is also sweet as a peach, but she has fear aggression, so she barks (really loudly) at strangers and any guests we have at the house. (Update 2014: Bella is much better adjusted now and only barks at other dogs, not people.)

One day someone who has been around my dogs a little bit said to us, “Your dogs are disobedient.” I immediately took offense at this. “My dogs are not disobedient,” I thought to myself. Sure, they have issues, but if you realized how far they have come you would not say that about them. Bella was a shell when we first got her. She would not go on a leash, and she wouldn’t interact with anyone. Considering where she has come from, she is doing great. And Bubby is a miracle dog. She has overcome incredible odds and any disobedience is probably just the result of her frustration at the condition she has to live with.

This is the same way God looks at us. Satan is our accuser. He acts as an attorney pointing out our flaws, constantly accusing us and trying to get us in trouble for it. But to God we are family. He loves us like a good Dad. We are his kids. He sees where we have come from. He doesn’t judge us by comparing us to anyone else, and he doesn’t judge us unfairly. He’s rooting for us. He sees how far we have come. God loves you even more than you love yourself.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"For the accuser of our brothers and sisters, who accuses them before our God day and night, has been hurled down." (Revelation 12:10)

 “See, I have taken away your sin, and I will put fine garments on you.” (Zechariah 3:4b)

"God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God." (1 Corinthians 5:21)

"My dear children, I write this to you so that you will not sin. But if anybody does sin, we have an advocate with the Father—Jesus Christ, the Righteous One. He is the atoning sacrifice for our sins, and not only for ours but also for the sins of the whole world." (1 John 2:1)

Because of His Great Love For Us

March 20, 2010 at 8:31pm

PublicFriendsFriends except AcquaintancesOnly MeCustomClose FriendsFamilySee all lists...South High SchoolNorthviewHallelujah AcresMiscNew Creation LifeUniv of ArizonaHoly Trinity LutheranMusiciansTerre HauteCoveNorth CarolinaIndiana UniversityCommunity CrossingHallelujah AcresNashville, Tennessee AreaUniversity of ArizonaStatesville, North Carolina AreaEnergyUnitedTerre Haute South Vigo High SchoolFamilyAcquaintancesGo Back

John and I recently lost our kitty Figaro, who had been with us from the beginning of our relationship of over eleven years. He was very dear to us and we still ache over the loss. A few months after he passed, we decided to get another cat, both to keep Boo company, and to help soften the blow of the gaping hole left by Fig. No one could take his place, but if we could find a cat who would remind us of him, our hearts would be comforted.

We looked for online for weeks, and almost got a couple of kittens. Then John found a long-haired black and white cat and we decided to go have a look at her. It only took about 2 seconds for me to decide this was would be my cat. She purred and flirted and twirled around as soon as I started scratching her head. Done deal!

The very next day, as I carried her outside for a photo shoot, our 70 pound dog walked up to check her out. The cat wanted nothing to do with such an introduction. She bolted out of my arms and within seconds had disappeared into the woods. Instantly my heart sank to the floor. Animals get confused when they first move to a new place, and usually start heading "home" since they do not consider the new place to be home yet. They rarely come back. I felt like such a fool for taking her outside, and I knew I could never forgive myself. This was not acceptable. It felt like we were losing Fig all over again, and I just couldn't take it. I gave up all hope of getting her back. I didn't even want to look for her.

John had more faith, and while I was out doing errands, he kept looking and looking and went around to all the neighbors asking if they had seen her. He sat in the yard for hours waiting for her to come home. Later that night I went to my Bible study. We prayed for her, and feeling a little encouraged, I prayed on the way home. Let me re-phrase that. I prayed my GUTS out ALL the way home.

I basically had a heart-to-heart with God, reasoning with him and pleading with him. By the time I got home from my hour long commute, I had come to believe that God would bring her back, unless there was a really good reason not to. My faith took a 180, from knowing I WOULD NOT find her to knowing that I WOULD find her.

Those eyes. This cat has the most glowing eyes I have ever seen. That's it! I would take a flashlight out and look around the yard until her eyes lit up. As soon as I got home, I raced out the door, flashlight, tuna and treats in hand, calling "Pwrrrttt, pwrrttt, here kitty, kitty, kitty" and believing every second that I would find her. It's amazing how faith that something will happen changes your actions, and your whole attitude.

I searched the east side of yard first, then the front, down the creek and over to the woods. Then I went in the back, inside the fence, around the woods, and there she was. She let out a little, "Mew" when she saw me. "There you are sweetheart!," I answered back.

But she ran from me.

What? You prefer the cold, dark, rainy woods, with no chance of eating, but a great chance of being eaten? You prefer that to the safety of my arms, where I will take you into a warm dry house, feed you good food and clean water, and give you all the attention you could ever want? If she only knew how much I loved her. She would have come running to me. But to her I was still a stranger.

She slipped through a hole in our 4 foot high cattle fence, and I had no choice but to climb over after her. She continued to walk away from me. I dropped to the ground and started praying and pleading with God to tell her it was ok to come to me. As I prayed, she started to come towards me, and after a couple of tries, I was able to grab her.

She was in my arms now, but we were not out of the woods yet, literally! I was now on the OUTSIDE of our fence, holding onto a cat for dear life, and would have to walk all the way around the outside of the fence, in the dark, braving slippery rocks, spider webs, and thorn bushes before getting back to safety. But failure was not an option! I would get this cat home, even if it meant breaking a limb or losing blood. I loved her so much, that any sacrifice required of me seemed completely trivial. I was overjoyed that I had found her and nothing could stop me from bringing her home.

We made it back into the house, and she is still with us to this day. We are thankful every day for this small but meaningful gift God has placed in our lives.

As I was carrying her home that night, I was reminded of what Jesus went through for us. We were strangers when he called us, sinners, running from him, because we didn't understand that what he offered was safety and warmth. We ran from him, but he went after us anyway, and he willingly, joyfully sacrificed himself, because of his great love.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"But because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions—it is by grace you have been saved." (Ephesians 2:4)

Bella's "Meet Your Neighbors" Program

May 8, 2008 at 1:24pm

John and I have always had good intentions about meeting and getting to know our neighbors. Over the years we have gotten better at it, but there is plenty of room for improvement.

This is definitely the friendliest place we have ever lived. Even before we had finished unpacking, our neighbors across the street came over on their golf cart and introduced themselves. Bubby and I met the self proclaimed mayor of “Hog Town” on a walk and stayed and talked for 20 minutes. Even the people at the voting poll and the local convenience store treat you like family. Everyone we have met so far has been very kind and welcoming. So, we have no excuse. Still, we are shy.

Leave it to Bella. We now find ourselves with the necessity of meeting every neighbor within a five mile radius as we try to locate the source of Bella’s latest conquest - chickens! Yes, our dog is bringing home chickens. Chicken #1 was promptly disposed of by her mother (me). She did not resist much when I pulled it away from her. Chicken #2 got away and is now hiding behind our shed. (See picture) Chicken #3 was not so lucky and has joined Chicken #1.

We went on a walk this morning. Still no luck locating the chicken owners. But we have leads on where to look next, and some dog sighting reports. “Oh, those are your dogs. I was wondering whose dogs those were. I see them all the time over there on the hill.” Hmmm.

UPDATE: 7:44pm. The chicken pictured here endured one more attack from Bella, then got away, unharmed. John brought home an invisible fence. We just got back from meeting a few more neighbors. Still no sign of any chicken owners. Someone said they sounded like game hens because of their color (black and brown) and that perhaps they are wild. They have seen wild turkeys around here. Also, we learned that one of our neighbors has a reputation for shooting dogs for sport. So, yeah, we are going to be using that invisible fence!

John just walked in to say that the brown chicken is in our shed. Has she adopted us? Not too bright.

In Search of Beauty

March 9, 2008 at 8:12pm

PublicFriendsFriends except AcquaintancesOnly MeCustomClose FriendsFamilySee all lists...South High SchoolNorthviewHallelujah AcresMiscNew Creation LifeUniv of ArizonaHoly Trinity LutheranMusiciansTerre HauteCoveNorth CarolinaIndiana UniversityCommunity CrossingHallelujah AcresNashville, Tennessee AreaUniversity of ArizonaStatesville, North Carolina AreaEnergyUnitedTerre Haute South Vigo High SchoolFamilyAcquaintancesGo Back

It was not the best weather for a road trip, but we bundled up as best as we could and braved the snow flurries. This could not wait for another day. Someone’s life was on the line.

The decision to get a pet is not one to be entered into lightly, but worrying too much about everything that could go wrong puts you in danger of missing out on a great thing. I knew I was on the verge of talking myself out of it this time, so I didn’t let my mind go there. Somewhere deep inside I knew this was the right thing to do, even though I knew it would add complexity to my life.

Driving 2 hours to Princeton, West Virginia was cathartic for my cabin fevered soul. It had been months since our last day trip, something John and I both love to do. I was enjoying the moment and anxious to meet the dog who could possibly become our next family member.

When we got to the shelter, they put us in this little room where we waited for what seemed like an eternity while they got her ready to meet us. I could no longer hold back the anxiety. What if it didn’t work out? What if we didn’t “click?” I knew I wanted another dog, but was this the right dog and the right time? What if it just didn’t feel right and I disappointed my husband, who had already decided we were taking her, no matter what?

We had been looking for a Bernese Mountain Dog for about six months now. John and I were in complete agreement that this would be the breed for our next dog. I don’t know the official breed standards, but from what we have seen, they are mostly black, very fluffy, and rather large, with brown and white spots. Sort of a calico dog, if you will. With as many disagreements that a husband and wife go through, it was nice to find our tastes perfectly converged on this tri-colored hunk of a dog.

Pure bred dogs of this breed run about $1500.00. Unfortunately, that is at least $1000 beyond our pay scale, even for the perfect pet. This was a bargain dog we would be looking at today. She ran away from home, and didn’t bring her papers with her. The asking price was a mere $55.00. On the web it said she was mixed with German Shepherd. On the paper in the office, it said Chow. We didn’t care. If she was half as cute as her picture, she would be the bargain of the century.

Then they brought her in. She was a large black bundle of fluff with a painted face, in the arms of a tall, rugged looking gentleman wearing dirty boots. As soon as she was released from the tall man’s arms, she went straight for the corner of the room, with sunken head. Our emotions began to fly. We knew she was gorgeous, but not this gorgeous. We also knew she was shy, but didn’t know she was this shy.

It was obvious she had been through hell and back. Were we ready to take on the challenge of rehabilitating a seriously abused animal? Her saving grace was that she had turned her anguish inward, instead of lashing out. With two cats and a dog already at home, we could not have handled a violent animal.

Knowing that she did not have much longer to live if we did not take her was a motivating factor. Her adorable face didn’t hurt either. John has a very tender heart toward animals. I knew he would not be able to walk out of there without her, and soon realized I felt the same. It’s a good thing John didn’t see any of the other puppies because he would have wanted them all, as well as all the cats.

We have had our puppy a little over 24 hours now, and already she is showing signs of trust. She is sitting next to me sniffing my computer right now. Earlier today, John, our Aussie who is called Bubby, our finger painted ball of fluff, and I sat out on the deck and got to know each other a little better.

While Bubby and puppy sniffed, nosed and jumped around each other, trying to figure out their line of command, their two owners sat and mulled over names. This is very serious business around our house. It’s almost as if the animal already has a name and it’s our job to figure out what it is.

I wanted to name her Lucy. John liked Missy. We almost went with Lira. Nothing seemed quite right. Then John said, “How about Bella? “Yep, that’s it, ” I shot back. That was her name. It was the only possible name for our beautiful mountain dog.

Cracked Pots - All

(May 29, 2008)

My husband John just graduated from Gordon-Conwell seminary with a Masters in Biblical Studies. We attended the commencement ceremony where close to 70 people were graduating with masters and doctorate degrees.

It was hard to keep myself from being mesmerized by all the colorful and interesting robes and hats as they marched in and out and across the podium. I couldn’t help wondering what each color and shape meant. I found out that one advantage of becoming a doctor is that you get to wear a funnier looking hat. 

I was impressed by one of the student speakers, Teresa Kay Hood, who had the foresight to realize we would be distracted by these colorful status symbols. She talked about how she was broken as a person before she came to seminary, and how she had found healing and new life in the process of her studies. She referred to herself as a cracked pot that had been mended. Then she took it a step further, with love, daring to challenge the caste system. “Don’t be fooled by the regalia and bright colors you see today. Underneath these robes are cracked pots – all,” she said, with a sweet smile and quiet confidence radiating from her face.

That was just the beginning of the theme of Christ-like humility that flowed through the entire service. It was unlike any other graduation ceremony I had ever attended. We were there to celebrate human accomplishment, yet the focus was skillfully shifted back to Christ. The highest award was given to the biggest servant. It was called the “Towel and Basin Award.” The professors and graduating students were all humble servants, grateful to God for their gifts and privileges, while oozing with passion to give it all back to Christ and his church.

Haddon Robinson, the keynote speaker, a man of great accomplishment, had no interest in promoting himself,  but exuded the warmth and grace that comes only by walking with God your entire life. His speech was about putting others first, a brilliant mini-sermon, but his heart and example communicated even more than his words. I ran into him in the hall afterwards. He didn’t know me from Adam and Eve, yet he greeted me as if I were his favorite niece.

I no longer believe the theory that seminaries are cemeteries where people go to die and lose their faith. We are already dead, without the light of Christ in our lives. Spending four to eight years with your face in the Word, as well as the words of those who have gone before us, you cannot help but shine a little brighter as you reflect back that light in your own face. I see this light in my husband, and I see it in the faces of those who have dedicated their lives to study. Now my only problem is deciding what my emphasis will be when it’s my turn to go seminary.

Geocaching - Hiking with a Twist

My sister Joyce has been talking about geocaching for awhile. I didn’t get all the hype, but this summer she took me with her. Our brother Harley went too. We were in Indiana for a reunion and she came prepared with her little yellow geocaching GPS and print outs of several “hunts.” I like how it gives you an excuse to go wandering around in the woods, off the trail. And you get to pick up trash!

In case you are not familiar with geocaching and are too lazy to google it – Geocaching is a fairly new sport where you use a GPS to find small containers that others have hidden in the woods and filled with little trinkets. Once you find the containers, you sign in, date it and if you want you can take a trinket and leave something for the next person. You will find things like key chains, buttons and magnets. It is also customary to bring a trash bag and gloves so you can pick up any trash that you find.

We had fun and got a little exercise and fresh air. It sure beats sitting around watching re-runs of the Brady Bunch.

(Originally published in 2008)

Willow Anniversary

(Originally published in 2008)

John and I celebrated our 9 year anniversary in June. Every year he gets me the traditional gift. For example, the first year is paper, so he created a newsletter for our family with stories and pictures. Last year was pottery, so he took me to a place where you can create your own. I made a plate and he made a mug.

This year was willow. He usually doesn’t tell me, and I’m not allowed to ask or look it up. But he was stumped. He couldn’t think of anything, so he asked if it would be ok if we went to visit the largest willow tree in North Carolina. Yep. I’m a cheap date. That sounded fun. It was in the mountains, so I got to combine this with traipsing around looking at antique shops to see if I could find an appropriate gift for myself. I thought about getting a Blue Willow plate or one of those Willow figurines, but after looking at them I realized I already have enough decorations in my house. Pictures of us next to a huge willow tree sounded perfect.

The location was unimpressive for such a grand tree. It was next to a small school which I’m sure is a very nice school, but it was not much to look at – a bunch of gray single-wide trailers. Still, we got some nice pictures and created a memory. And the dogs got to come.

God Lives in a Mobile Home

(Originally posted in 2008, about our previous home in North Carolina.) 

I love where we live. We own an acre of land which is surrounded by several more acres of woods. You can barely see our house from the road when the leaves are on the trees. We have a bubbling brook running through our front yard that was flowing even during the worst part of the drought last year. Our grass was green when our friends’ yards in the next town were brown and prickly. We have a pool, a pond, and two decks. It’s been beautiful with the spring colors on the dogwood, and the little pink azaleas. On our drive home we see gorgeous mountain foothills, horses, happy Holstein cows and beautiful sunsets.

But there is this one little thing that might make some people turn up their noses at our lovely little farm – We live in a mobile home. I like to call it a manufactured home because it sounds better, and also because it’s more accurate. There is nothing “mobile” about our home. It is on a permanent foundation and has been here for 20 years.

Many people do not understand the difference between manufactured, mobile, modular and stick built houses. Hang onto your hat because you are about to learn. The difference is simply this – Modular and stick built homes are made according to both national and local codes, and both kinds appreciate in value. Manufactured is just another term for a mobile home, and these only need to follow national codes. Historically, they have had a tendency to depreciate in value.

Stick built homes are built from scratch on site, with sticks (a.k.a. two by fours), thus the name. This is the traditional type of home that most people look for. They tend to always appreciate in value and there is no stigma attached to them like there tends to be with other types.

Modulars do not deserve the bad rap they have gotten. From what I understand, they are made to the exact same quality and standards as a stick built. The only difference is that some of the parts, like the walls or the dormers, are put together in a factory, then transported to the site. They come in kits or models, thus the name “modular”, and because they are factory produced, in part, they are cheaper to build.

Mobile homes (a.k.a. manufactured) are built entirely in the factory, then put together, usually from two or three large pieces, on site. They are also called double-wides, single-wides or triple-wides, depending on how many pieces are used. These are the homes you see coming down the road on semi trucks, taking up both sides of a two lane highway. In the 80’s they started building these “trailors” to higher standards, put them on permanent foundations and started calling them manufactured homes.

The manufactured homes they are building these days are looking better and better. You would be hard pressed to tell the difference between some of the new ones and a regular old stick built. This is encouraging to me. I hope that one day they lose their bad reputation and begin to appreciate in value, as they should, when well cared for.

Before we purchased our manufactured home, I did a lot of research to figure out why they tend to depreciate. This puzzled me, and still does. I found that it boils down to two things. One, they are built with cheaper materials. For example, the sticks that hold the walls up are usually thinner. Two, they are harder to maintain because it is harder to find supplies. If you want to replace the tub in an older manufactured home, you can’t just run down to Lowe’s and pick one out. They don’t carry them in the correct size.

Still, I don’t think these are the real reasons they tend to depreciate. I think it is more of a complex social issue. Mobile homes have for years littered the countryside in “trailor parks”. Though I’ve seen some in Arizona which are amazingly lovely, these tend to be places that are not well kept, and this has led many to believe that all mobile homes are junky.

That they are harder to maintain is somewhat true, because it is harder to find parts that fit. But when you do find the parts, you can keep your home in good shape, which of course helps tremendously to keep the value up. We are fortunate to have a mobile home supply store nearby, so we can buy all the tubs and doors we need - made especially to fit our little hobbit hole home with it’s low ceilings and miniature bathing units.

People also tend to believe that mobile homes are tornado magnets and will crumble at the first puff of wind. I’m sorry, but if a tornado were flying overhead, I would not feel safe in any kind of home. On the contrary, these babies are designed to survive while trucking down the highway at 65 miles per hour. I read somewhere that there was a hurricane that hit a section of a town and while some of the stick built homes were flattened, the manufactured ones were still standing.

“Those who live in manufactured homes built and installed since 1994 are as well protected as their neighbors who live in site built homes constructed according to the Florida Building Code. They should be afforded comparable insurance coverage at comparably calculated premiums. Many older site built and manufactured homes can be strengthened in order to be safer and insurable.”http://www.myfloridainsurancereform.com/docs/relatedResources/Manufactured%20homes%20hurricane%20performance.pdf

“In 1994, HUD amended the Manufactured Housing Construction and Safety Standards to provide for greater protection for mobile/manufactured homes from wind damage. During the severe hurricane seasons of 2004 and 2005, no mobile/manufactured home that was built after these new standards went into effect sustained any significant structural damage from the storms.”http://www.flhsmv.gov/mobilehome/MHConstructionandSafetyStandards.pdf

All this to say that even if you still think mobile homes are cheap, they can’t be that bad since that’s what God has chosen to live in. His temple is not built with wood or bricks or human hands. He has chosen instead to live in us, frail and weak as we are.

“Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God?” (1 Cor. 6:19)

I take comfort in this. As my wise friend Kay once said, “God did not put us on this earth to be home owners.” My goals are set much higher than brick and wood.

“Now we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, an eternal house in heaven, not built by human hands. Meanwhile we groan, longing to be clothed with our heavenly dwelling.” (2 Cor 5:1 -2