Well, folks. A big decision was made today. After traveling with me around the States and to Jamaica and the Bahamas, Stanley has decided that he will not be traveling with me to Europe. He feels like he needs to stay home to oversee my parents as they oversee the workers who are building my dad a home office. This evening, as they overlooked the building site, Stanley and little brother Fred discussed the trip, and Stanley gave Fred the wings he needs to fly. That’s right, everyone: Fred is going to Europe.
Some of you may be thinking, “Dee, I didn’t even know you were going to Europe.” I know. It’s hard to believe. But I am going to Europe. I leave Wednesday. I am both excited and nervous. And I haven’t yet started to pack.
Two years ago, my aunt asked if I’d be willing to travel with her to the Scandinavian region of the world. Being the geographical dummy that I am, I didn’t know where Scandinavia was, but I happily agreed to being June Gail’s travel companion. Why not? Not many opportunities like this arise.
One year ago, my aunt asked if I’d be willing to leave a couple of days early to go to Iceland. Sure! Why not? Again, not many opportunities like this arise.
And what is this opportunity?
It’s a 15-day Viking Sea Cruise around the Baltic Sea with a three day prelude in Iceland.
My aunt, who has traveled around the world, has spent many hours studying the places that we will be going and talking with both her travel agent and representatives of Viking Cruise Lines. Together, we spent an entire Saturday planning our excursions, and we have a jam-packed itinerary. I am fully prepared to be exhausted upon my return—and maybe during the trip—but I’m also prepared to do everything I can to experience as much as I can. Because, well, not many opportunities like this arise.
I’m nervous about getting motion sick. I’m nervous about eating something that makes me sick on my stomach. Okay. I’m nervous about getting any kind of sick. I’m nervous about missing a flight or missing the boat. I’m nervous about losing important documents. I’m nervous about being so far away from friends and family. I’m concerned about the divisions in this country. But. I think I may be more excited to see more of the world.
And what of the world will I see? You might want to pull up a map for this :
Reykjavick, Iceland: Thingvellir National Park, Geysir Hot Springs and included lunch, Gullfoss Waterfall, Kerid Crater, Blue Lagoon
Stockholm, Sweden: Meet The Royal Swedish Opera, Stockholm City Tour
Helsinki, Finland: Tour of Helsinki, Porvoo and Haikko Manor
St. Petersburg, Russia: Catherine Palace and Gardens, Panoramic city tour, Church of our Savior on Spilled Blood, St. Petersburg Ballet, Hermitage Museum, Peterhof, Hydrofoil across Gulf of Finland
Tallin, Estonia: Old Town Tallin and Manor Houses
Gdansk, Poland: Gdansk City Tour
Berlin, Germany: Sachsenhausen and Berlin Tour
Copenhagen, Denmark: Copenhagan City Tour, Tivoli Gardens, Evening Jazz Cruise Through Copenhagen
Alborg, Denmark: Wild West Coast and Lighthouse Tour
Stavenger, Norway: Stavenger Walking Tour and Oil Museum
Flam, Norway: A Panoramic Half-Day Railway Trip and Flam and Osterbo Mountain Lodge Tour
Bergen, Norway: Fantoft Stave Church and Grieg's House and Recital
Mamers, United States: VBS 2016
The Viking Sea does include complimentary internet access, and I have upgraded my phone so that I can more easily keep in contact and post pictures of Stanley’s little brother, Fred. So…I will try to keep in touch, but…I’m going to try harder to be fully present on this trip.
Keep us in your thoughts and prayers. And believe me when I say that I know how extremely fortunate I am to have this opportunity and that I, personally, am praying that I will be able to use this trip to bless others. Somehow. In some way. Amen.
Monday, July 11, 2016
Thursday, July 7, 2016
The Art That Surrounds Me
If you’ve never been to my house, then you’ve never 1) been barked at by Bullet [who is super cute but incredibly protective and therefore inhospitable], 2) heard my mom play her piano [which is an incredible experience], 3) had my dad share one of his breakfast table sermons [which are often profound], or 4) experienced an aesthetic overload when visiting my living quarters upstairs.
I don’t know if it’s because I’m intuitive, feeling, blue, or just plain sentimental, but I like to surround myself with visual reminders of the people I love, the things I’ve experienced, or the words and images that inspire me.
Earlier today, when mom and I saw a storefront building for sale, I joked that we should buy it so that I could live in the apartment upstairs and use the downstairs for my art gallery.
I have a lot of art.
As I write these words tonight, I’m sitting in the orange fish art room. I have a huge fish that Barb the Art Teacher painted me for being Teacher of the Year the first time around, a multi-textured fish that Jack the Nephew made for me in 7th grade art class and another little finger painted fish that Jack made when he was 4, a yard art piece that Holli Who Lived In Laos painted orange for me, four surrealist prints that various friends have given me, and quite a few other pieces as well. They probably aren’t worth much to anyone but me, but to me they are worth so very much.
Then there is my room. The art work on my walls is an eclectic mix that holds pieces from as far back as high school. Currently, I have the pieces in my room grouped by subject/artist. I have a section of paintings that my friend Karen painted for the women’s retreats we used to attend. I have a section of drawings by a local artist that I stumbled upon in Vass. I have a Jesus section—that includes Laughing Jesus and a modern interpretation of the poem Footprints. I have a Fabio Napoleoni wall. I have a cross wall. I have a miscellaneous wall. I even have a wall-border of paper plates that I colored in college.
I have words in my room, too.
Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will direct your paths. Proverbs 3:5-6 [Not only one of my favorite verses, but also cross stitched especially for me.]
Embrace yourself as you are. Celebrate yourself as you long to be.
It’s not about controlling. It’s about being present, being open, being aware—and allowing it to come.
The baby in the womb was the maker of the moon.
And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.
Just keep swimming.
There are others words. Poems that people have written and shared with me. Words that I hold close to my heart.
And there are pieces of pottery. Ornaments. A Scentsy warmer. Orange fish and other collectibles.
Every piece of art in my room has a story that has influenced my story, just like every piece of art in this room has a story as well. And every time I look at the pieces, those stories and the people who helped make the stories run through my head—and I find myself remembering and praying and feeling the full gamut of emotions that they bring. And I am grateful. I am so very grateful.
I don’t know if it’s because I’m intuitive, feeling, blue, or just plain sentimental, but I like to surround myself with visual reminders of the people I love, the things I’ve experienced, or the words and images that inspire me.
Earlier today, when mom and I saw a storefront building for sale, I joked that we should buy it so that I could live in the apartment upstairs and use the downstairs for my art gallery.
I have a lot of art.
As I write these words tonight, I’m sitting in the orange fish art room. I have a huge fish that Barb the Art Teacher painted me for being Teacher of the Year the first time around, a multi-textured fish that Jack the Nephew made for me in 7th grade art class and another little finger painted fish that Jack made when he was 4, a yard art piece that Holli Who Lived In Laos painted orange for me, four surrealist prints that various friends have given me, and quite a few other pieces as well. They probably aren’t worth much to anyone but me, but to me they are worth so very much.
Then there is my room. The art work on my walls is an eclectic mix that holds pieces from as far back as high school. Currently, I have the pieces in my room grouped by subject/artist. I have a section of paintings that my friend Karen painted for the women’s retreats we used to attend. I have a section of drawings by a local artist that I stumbled upon in Vass. I have a Jesus section—that includes Laughing Jesus and a modern interpretation of the poem Footprints. I have a Fabio Napoleoni wall. I have a cross wall. I have a miscellaneous wall. I even have a wall-border of paper plates that I colored in college.
I have words in my room, too.
Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will direct your paths. Proverbs 3:5-6 [Not only one of my favorite verses, but also cross stitched especially for me.]
Embrace yourself as you are. Celebrate yourself as you long to be.
It’s not about controlling. It’s about being present, being open, being aware—and allowing it to come.
The baby in the womb was the maker of the moon.
And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.
Just keep swimming.
There are others words. Poems that people have written and shared with me. Words that I hold close to my heart.
And there are pieces of pottery. Ornaments. A Scentsy warmer. Orange fish and other collectibles.
Every piece of art in my room has a story that has influenced my story, just like every piece of art in this room has a story as well. And every time I look at the pieces, those stories and the people who helped make the stories run through my head—and I find myself remembering and praying and feeling the full gamut of emotions that they bring. And I am grateful. I am so very grateful.
Monday, July 4, 2016
It Is For Freedom
I confess. It’s easier not to write. I got off schedule during the last week of school because after working on an end-of-year computer requirement that involved writing for at least 8 hours each day I was, quite frankly, tired of looking at the computer. In fact, if I remember correctly, when I got home that Thursday night, I was so tired of everything that I plopped onto the couch and didn’t move for over three hours. Then I went to Florida to surprise non-internet using G-mama, to kid-sit Griffin the Nephew and Amelia the Niece, and on family vacation where internet connection was hit or miss. I could have written each of those nights. It was possible. But, like I said, it’s easier not to write. It’s easier not to do things that take time, discipline, vulnerability, and sacrifice.
Honestly, I’ve given serious thought to discontinuing these Monday and Thursday posts. I started writing them six years ago as a means of letting people know that those of us in full-time vocational ministry were not super-humans but regular-humans that experience life just like everyone else, and while I ended my work in full-time vocational ministry 2012, I’ve kept writing. I’ve kept writing because I knew it was a discipline that was good—a simple spiritual discipline of sorts—not a spiritual discipline listed in Foster’s Celebration of Discipline—but a discipline nonetheless. Yet many times my non-super-human self finds itself wondering, “What’s the point of posting each week? I don’t have anything profound to say. I write about Bullet and my family and school most of the time. And when I do write something spiritually or emotionally significant, most people don’t read it, so why put the words out there? Why not just stop?”
Before Mister Pastor Patrick announced that he and his family were returning home to live in Texas, he had scheduled yesterday and next Sunday as vacation time and asked my dad to fill the pulpit on those two Sundays. So my dad spoke yesterday and preached about freedom—about a people’s challenge to use their freedom not to take care of themselves and build up their own riches but to honor God and take care of one another.
In setting up the sermon for the children, Rebecca the Children’s Minister asked the children to recite the last line of The Star Spangled Banner: “O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave.” She told the kids that even though we are each free to do pretty much anything we want to do—as long as we don’t break the law—we, as Christ-followers, are challenged to do things that are good and right and of God—and those things often take bravery.
As I write tonight, fireworks are going off around me. Bullet is petrified but hundreds of thousands of people around the country are celebrating freedom. I am grateful. And I am challenged to uphold and share a message of freedom to the people of every tribe, nation, and tongue, for the freedom that dominates my heart and mind tonight is a freedom that transcends tribe, nation, and tongue.
You, my brothers and sisters, were called to be free. But do not use your freedom to indulge the flesh; rather, serve one another humbly in love. For the entire law is fulfilled in keeping this one command: “Love your neighbor as yourself.” If you bite and devour each other, watch out or you will be destroyed by each other…[And] the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. Against such things there is no law. Those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit (--excerpts from Galatians 5).
Freedom. Love. Patience. Self-control. Discipline. Bravery.
I could stop writing. It would be so easy to stop writing. Life would go on and the world would keep turning. Yet on this Independence Day as I recognize that I am fortunate to have the freedom to pretty much do as I please, I also recognize that freedom is not free and that it comes with a call to be greater than myself. It comes with a call to be brave and to live by the Spirit that once called and continues to call me to walk this journey of faith with those around me…together…sacrificially…with discipline…and Love.
Honestly, I’ve given serious thought to discontinuing these Monday and Thursday posts. I started writing them six years ago as a means of letting people know that those of us in full-time vocational ministry were not super-humans but regular-humans that experience life just like everyone else, and while I ended my work in full-time vocational ministry 2012, I’ve kept writing. I’ve kept writing because I knew it was a discipline that was good—a simple spiritual discipline of sorts—not a spiritual discipline listed in Foster’s Celebration of Discipline—but a discipline nonetheless. Yet many times my non-super-human self finds itself wondering, “What’s the point of posting each week? I don’t have anything profound to say. I write about Bullet and my family and school most of the time. And when I do write something spiritually or emotionally significant, most people don’t read it, so why put the words out there? Why not just stop?”
Before Mister Pastor Patrick announced that he and his family were returning home to live in Texas, he had scheduled yesterday and next Sunday as vacation time and asked my dad to fill the pulpit on those two Sundays. So my dad spoke yesterday and preached about freedom—about a people’s challenge to use their freedom not to take care of themselves and build up their own riches but to honor God and take care of one another.
In setting up the sermon for the children, Rebecca the Children’s Minister asked the children to recite the last line of The Star Spangled Banner: “O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave.” She told the kids that even though we are each free to do pretty much anything we want to do—as long as we don’t break the law—we, as Christ-followers, are challenged to do things that are good and right and of God—and those things often take bravery.
As I write tonight, fireworks are going off around me. Bullet is petrified but hundreds of thousands of people around the country are celebrating freedom. I am grateful. And I am challenged to uphold and share a message of freedom to the people of every tribe, nation, and tongue, for the freedom that dominates my heart and mind tonight is a freedom that transcends tribe, nation, and tongue.
You, my brothers and sisters, were called to be free. But do not use your freedom to indulge the flesh; rather, serve one another humbly in love. For the entire law is fulfilled in keeping this one command: “Love your neighbor as yourself.” If you bite and devour each other, watch out or you will be destroyed by each other…[And] the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. Against such things there is no law. Those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit (--excerpts from Galatians 5).
Freedom. Love. Patience. Self-control. Discipline. Bravery.
I could stop writing. It would be so easy to stop writing. Life would go on and the world would keep turning. Yet on this Independence Day as I recognize that I am fortunate to have the freedom to pretty much do as I please, I also recognize that freedom is not free and that it comes with a call to be greater than myself. It comes with a call to be brave and to live by the Spirit that once called and continues to call me to walk this journey of faith with those around me…together…sacrificially…with discipline…and Love.
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