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Life Map

2012-01-11T13:42:00.000-07:00

I'm part of a women's mentoring group at work and for our next meeting we've been asked to create a life map. Basically it's timeline of your life with significant events listed in order.

Then, over the top of it we've been asked to create a zig zag line connecting points that indicate how close we felt to God at each of those times in our lives.I finished my timeline done and found that it really made some things stand out. They were things I already knew, but suddenly I feel like I understand them better.

1. The word MOVE is in most of the significant events I listed. When I noticed that fact I decided to list all the moves I had experienced and made a startling discovery. I moved about 18+ times the first 18 years of my life and I've moved 30+ times in the 45 years I've lived.

2. I've had 3 times in my life that I consider to be the worse. So much so that I've named them. The Year of Fear, The Year of Repatriation, and The Time of Great Grieving and Loss.

When it came time for me to put my points with the connecting line to indicate how close I felt to God I really struggled. I've always known God was there for me and I don't describe it (to myself) in terms of closeness. I realized that I describe it in terms of Psalm 23. So that's what I used.

For one end I wrote Valley of the Shadow of Death. That's where the dots for the worse times of my life are. For the other end I wrote Green Pastures/Still Waters.

It's been an interesting exercise and I would encourage you to try it. What stands out for you? What brings some clarity to how you see yourself and the patterns of your life? Can you see what might have influenced you to arrive at where you are today?

Joy

2011-12-21T13:30:00.001-07:00

Whats Worth Sharing | VML from VML on Vimeo.

Stories for Christmas: Simeon

2011-12-03T16:56:00.001-07:00

I must tell you this story before I die, for I have lived a very long time and it will not be long before I am gone.

Not long ago, the Lord spoke to me while I was worshiping in the temple...

Wait, let me go back a bit and start at the beginning. I live in Jerusalem and have all of my life. My father was a merchant and taught the business to me so that I could take it over when he was old and needed to be cared for. He also taught me to love the Lord and every week he took me with him to the Temple to worship. My faith grew as I did and I have seen God’s hand of blessing on me and my family. In time, I married and had children of my own. I too taught my own son to be a merchant and to worship the Lord. In time he took over the business and now cares for me in the same way I cared for my father.

Now that I am old, I spend most of my day here at the Temple. I come here right after breakfast and only leave when it is time to return home for the evening meal. My daughter-in-law is a good woman and cares for me as she would her own father. She always prepares a mid-day meal for me to take since she doesn’t approve of the food that can be purchased at the Temple gates.

One day, not long after I retired from the business world and began spending my time at the Temple, God spoke to me. I was seated against a column deep in prayer when I heard him as clearly as if he was seated next to me. I know it was him because it was early in the morning when there are only a few of us in the Temple that early and no one else was close. It could only have been the Lord.

Following the example of the prophet Samuel I said, “Speak, I am listening.” The Lord spoke to me again saying that I would not die until I had seen the Messiah. I was overwhelmed with amazement and relief. My father had fervently prayed that the prophesies would be fulfilled and that the promised Messiah would come. He understood that the Messiah was not for the military freedom of our people, but for the spiritual freedom of the world. He studied the scriptures that were recorded by the prophets about the Messiah and his coming and he passed that passion on to me. So when the Lord told me that the Messiah would come and that I would see him before I died, I was so overwhelmed with joy that I could not speak, only weep and pray for the remainder of the day.

We, as the nation of Israel, have longed for our Messiah for so long that many no longer believe. This was so with my daughter-in-law. When I went home that evening, I told my son and his family what God had told me, but they were skeptical. They were respectful as I spoke, but I could see in their faces that they did not quite believe me. On another morning when my daughter-in-law thought I had already left for the Temple, I heard her confide in a friend that she believed that I was beginning to show signs of senility because I believed that the Lord had spoken to me. However, from then on, I made sure that I was at the Temple early and I watched the young families as they came there for the circumcision and naming of their sons.

The day they arrived God’s Holy Spirit sent me to the Temple even earlier than usual and drew me to a young, poor couple, with their small son. The young man was carrying their offering of pigeons and the woman followed him close behind, holding the child close to her heart.

I walked to them and greeted them with respect. I think they were taken aback that a man like myself, dressed in the robes of a merchant would greet them, a poor couple, with such respect. When I asked the young woman if I could hold her son, she gently gave the child to my arms, still regarding me with wonder.

As I held that small body, I knew for certain that he was the Messiah. I prayed at that moment, looking in the child’s eyes saying, “Lord, I can now be at peace! You kept your promise and I have now seen the Savior. He will show God to the nations, and is the glory of your people Israel”

As I was praying, I could see his parents looking at each other in amazement. I imagine God had told them who their child was and they were wondering how I could know. I handed that little boy back to his mother, then I placed my hands on their heads and blessed them and told them that this child would fulfill the prophesies, be rejected by many in our nation, and that it would be their undoing. That the deepest thoughts of our hearts would be revealed and that her heart would be pierced with such great pain it would cut like a sword.

After I had blessed them, I realized that a woman named Anna had come to stand behind me. She was another person, like myself, who spent a great deal of time in the Temple. I often wondered if she ever left since several times I saw one of her grandchildren bringing food to her. When I finished my blessing, she too knew who the child was. She continued on by going to everyone who came into the Temple, that the Messiah had been born. Sadly, most looked at her with scorn. Just like my daughter-in-law, they had waited so long that they no longer believed.

When I went home that evening, I told everyone of what God had shown me that day. I don’t think that my daughter-in-law believed, but my son did. After the evening meal, as we sat on the roof watching the light of the sun fade away, we talked of it and of what might come.

Now it is up to him to look for the Messiah and what God’s plan for Israel is. For the child must grow to adulthood before he will accomplish the salvation of the world. I will be gone, but my son will be here along with his son to see the prophesies fulfilled.

I praise God, for he comes to take away the sins of the world.

Stories for Christmas: The Magi

2011-12-03T16:47:00.001-07:00

I will never forget the star that sent us on that incredible journey. I am a court astronomer to the king of Persia and it is an important position with a long and illustrious history. We are not just astronomers, but also translators of dreams and advisers to the king on all important matters. One of our illustrious predecessors was Baltasar, also known as Daniel to his own people.

One evening, when I was very young and new at court, I and my colleagues were on on the roof of the palace observing the movements of the heavens. Then we saw something we had never seen before. It was amazing. A star, telling us by its timing and position that a king had been born in the land of Judea. We observed this star for several days and determined that a small company of us must set out to find this king and take him gifts to celebrate his arrival. We knew he was a very important king. The stars are rarely so specific, so when they are we pay attention.

I and my companions gathered the necessary provisions for our trip and we set out. All along the way we observed the star every evening. And every evening we received confirmation from the stars. Again and again I was reminded of our predecessor, Baltasar. He was a Judean who had been brought to the court of Nebuchadnezzar and eventually became one of the most powerful court advisers of all time. He was sent through many perils but always kept his faith in his God, Yahweh. In a chronicle it is recorded that he interpreted a dream for the king. It was a dream of prophesy that spoke of the future kingdoms of Persia. The last part of the prophesy says that God will set up a kingdom that won't ever be destroyed or conquered even though all other kingdoms will disappear.

We believed that this new king was going to be the foundation of that kingdom and the stars continually confirmed our belief.

It took us several weeks to reach Judea and when we arrived we went to the capital city, Jerusalem. There we began asking where we would find the king of the Jews. Eventually we were summoned before Herod who asked the teachers of the religion of their one God where we might find this king. After consulting their sacred texts we were told that he would be found in Bethlehem. Herod asked us to return after we had found the king so that he could also pay homage to the king. Little did we know, that was not his true intention.

We went on our way to Bethlehem, still guided by the star to the very house where he lived with his mother and her husband.

Oh, he was a sweet child. And his mother was very wise for a young woman of her age. I wish my own daughter could have had even a portion of her wisdom.

After worshiping the child, the king of the Jews, we presented our gifts. I’m afraid the parents where rather overwhelmed. It was probably more wealth than they had ever seen before. But we could give nothing less than the best to this mighty king who was still a child. It is shown in the stars that his kingdom will last for eternity and will stretch over the whole earth. It will encompass every tribe, people and nation.

That night, as we slept, it was revealed to us in our dreams that Herod wished to kill the child. So when we awoke, we resolved to go home without returning to Jerusalem.

I am a very old man now, but I will never forget that child. A few years ago, I heard about him again. He had become a teacher. They must not have liked what he taught because the Romans executed him. A peculiarly morbid form of execution where the offender is nailed to a cross and left to die a slow, agonizing death. It seemed strange to me, after what the stars had told me, that it should happen to him.

But just a few days ago I was in the marketplace and there were several young men talking about him. When I took them aside to ask them for more information they told me he had risen from the dead three days after his execution.

Then he ascended into heaven and his kingdom goes on in our hearts. It is a divine kingdom rather than an earthly one.

Suddenly it all became clear to me and now his kingdom reigns in my heart as well.

Stories for Christmas: The Shepherd

2011-12-03T16:37:00.001-07:00

I’m nobody really. Just the youngest son of a youngest son. Being the youngest it’s my job to watch the sheep and I spend all day, every day, out caring for them. I’m practically a part of the herd. No one pays much attention to us shepherds since they don’t see us much and when they do we are so dirty that they avoid us.

But I know that God cares. You know how I know that? Because my buddies and I were the first to be told about the birth of the Messiah. Let me tell you about it. It’s pretty awesome.

So, we were out sleeping with the sheep. We’d put them all in the pen and had set up camp at the gate and were just getting settled down for the night. One of the other guys was just dousing the small fire that we had cooked our supper on when suddenly the sky was bright with light. We all shaded our eyes it was so bright. It was an angel and he spoke to us! He said that the Messiah had been born, that he was a baby, and he was not far away in a stable. We were to go see him. Then just as our eyes were adjusting to the brightness, it got even brighter. The whole sky was full of angels and they were singing about God’s glory and of peace.

They were gone as suddenly as they came and we sat there, stunned, sleep forgotten. We were overwhelmed. We knew we hadn’t dreamt it because we all had seen and heard the same thing. Then we all started talking at once. I was all for going to find the child Messiah. My Mom had often told me stories about the longed for Messiah and I wanted to see him. I needed to so that I coudl tell my mother all about him. She would be so excited to know that he had come and would be so proud that the angels had been sent ot tell me, her son.

The pessimists in our group were hesitant. They weren’t too sure that the angels really meant for us to go find a stable. Surely they meant a much nicer place. Surely the Messiah wouldn’t be poor like us and have to be born in a stable. Besides, people didn’t like having us show up since we stank. And someone should stay and look after the sheep. In the end the rest of us convinced them to come along and after securing the gate to the sheep pen, we went out to seek the Messiah.

While the angel hadn’t given us specific instructions, I had a pretty good idea of where we should look. There’s only one inn and I was certain that’s where they would have gone first. Since the angel said we’d find the baby in a manger, it made sense to start at the inn’s stable. I was right and that’s where we found them.

They were an ordinary family, obviously tired from traveling and her especially tired from having just given birth. There were people camped out all around under the stars and, when asked, one of them had confirmed that there had been the cries of a woman giving birth a while earlier.

When we had explained to the couple why we had come, they were happy to have us draw close. We learned that they were Joseph and Mary from Nazareth and had traveled to Bethlehem especially for the Roman census.

The baby’s name was Jesus. We stayed there awhile then, realizing that they were exhausted, we left them to rest. We were so excited as we picked our way around the camps of travelers that we were rather loud. People snapped at us to keep it down and return to our sheep. We didn’t care about the insults we were so excited. So all we said was “ The Messiah has come! He is here and we have seen him!” Some just rolled over and ignored us. Some were just curious enough to wake up and ask how we knew. However, when we said he’d been born in a stable, most lost interest and rolled over to go back to sleep.

Eventually we made it back to our sheep. They were just as we had left them. Asleep and unharmed. We couldn’t sleep, so we stayed up the rest of the night talking about it.

From then on, we told anyone who would listen about that night. Eventually, I married and had children of my own. My wife puts up with my story of the Messiah but I don’t think that she has ever really believed it. My children certainly got tired of hearing about it.

Except for my youngest son.

Stories for Christmas: Mary

2011-12-03T16:23:00.001-07:00

It was many years ago, but I can remember my first pregnancy very well. I’m sure every mother remembers her first pregnancy as if it was just last year, but mine wasn’t exactly a normal one.

An angel appeared to me one day while I was going about my chores and he told me that I would become pregnant by the Spirit of God. He also told me that the child was going to be our prophesied Messiah. I was stunned, but it never occurred to me to question it until he was gone. When God sends an angel, you don’t argue. It wasn’t until I was sure that I was pregnant that I managed to work up the courage to tell Joseph. I have to give him credit. He was upset, very upset, but he didn’t yell at me or break off our engagement.

Yes, we weren’t married yet. Just engaged. Our marriage was an arranged one, but we had known each other all our lives having grown up in the same village. So we had affection, even love, for one another. I was so relieved when he didn’t break off our engagement. We were married, in spite of the fact that I was showing by then and all the gossips were talking behind their hands about me. It wasn’t until after we were married that I found out that Joseph really had intended to quietly break off our engagement. He didn’t because the same angel that had appeared to me came to him in a dream. The angel told Joseph the same thing that he told me along with the fact that we were to name him Joshua, or Jesus as you know him.

It was a time that really tested my faith in many ways. I was totally reliant on God’s promises through the prophets and the angels, as well as Joseph’s faith in God and faithfulness to me.

There were so many things that, according to the prophets, had to happen and I had no idea how it would all work out. Like the fact that the Messiah was to come from Bethlehem. We lived in Nazareth in the north. Bethlehem is in the south near Jerusalem.

But God is in control and his will is done. I could never have guessed that a census required by Caesar would be the way that God would use to send us to Bethlehem in time for the birth of my son. My mother was upset, of course. She had never accepted that the child wasn’t Joseph’s and the humiliation of a daughter pregnant before the wedding was mostly overridden by the fact that it was her grandchild. My father and in-laws were not as forgiving and wouldn’t even allow us to travel with them to Bethlehem. My mother never forgave them for that because not only was she prevented from helping me travel, but they weren’t there to help when the child was born.

Joseph and I set out for Bethlehem one morning. We couldn’t afford a donkey to help carry our few belongings, so Joseph carried most of our things. I carried the few items that we would need for the baby when he arrived. My mother had managed to make and give me a blanket without my father knowing. At first we traveled quite quickly. I was young, strong, and fit. However, as we drew near to Bethlehem, we went a little more slowly. My back ached and my feet were swollen. We were just outside town when the labor pains started. Joseph really started to worry then. He wanted to stop, but I knew (and hoped) it would probably be a few hours before I gave birth, so I insisted we press on. We kept going with the hope that there would be a warm bed in an inn where we could rest and prepare. Also, there would be other women around to help.

However, when we got to Bethlehem, the place was overrun with people. We finally found a little space in a barn that was out in a field owned by one of the innkeepers. By the time we got there, the labor pains were coming in ernest. All I could do was sit and gasp while Joseph prepared a corner for us as best he could. He delivered the baby himself. We were both relieved that it wasn’t a complicated delivery. That was surely by the grace of God.

I was exhausted, so Joseph cleaned up little Joshua and wrapped him in the clothes and blanket that we had brought. The cleanest place to lay him was in the trough used to feed the oxen. I dozed on and off for quite a while, until some visitors arrived.

It was utterly amazing. These shepherds showed up with the most incredible story. Angels, a whole host of them, appeared to them out in the field beyond the barn. These angels had told them that Joshua had been born and that he was the prophesied Messiah. I will never forget that visit. It was a confirmation to me that what Joseph and I had experienced and endured was all according to God’s plan. God had taken care of us and would continue to do so because we were his children as well as the parents of his son, the Messiah.

Yes, it was a hard time for us, but after the census was over we continued to live in Bethlehem. Joseph joined one of his cousins in a carpentry shop and was able to make a good living. Gradually our relatives became more accepting of me and our situation and so it was easier and more economical to stay than to try and return to Nazareth. About a year or two later we had some more unusual visitors. Persians showed up looking for the King of the Jews. It was rather surprising to have them appear on our door step because we hadn’t really told any of our neighbors about who Joshua was and the family didn’t talk about it. It was rather a relief to escape the scorn we had experienced in Nazareth and we certainly didn’t want to invite the same thing in Bethlehem. Besides, with a man like Herod on the throne with the backing of the Roman emperor, you don’t want to claim that a poor carpenter’s boy who’s not even two years old is the King of the Jews.

I invited them in and we shared our small supper with them. They paid homage to my little boy and gave him such expensive gifts. Gold, myrrh, and frankincense from Egypt. When we went to bed that night I commented to Joseph that I didn’t know what we were going to do with these gifts. People would think we had stolen them. Although, they were probably already talking about the foreign courtiers who had visited us. I wasn’t sure how we were going to explain that. Joseph reminded me that God had taken care of us so far and would continue to do so. Besides, we could hide the gifts away for a rainy day. No one would need to know.

Little did we know that night that we would be fleeing Bethlehem for Egypt the very next day. Apparently the Persians had come looking for Joshua by way of Jerusalem. The star they had been following led them there and they cannot be blamed for assuming that the King of the Jews would be born in a palace in the capital city. From the description they gave to King Herod, the scribes determined that they were looking for the Messiah. So, quoting the prophet Micah, they sent these travelers off to Bethlehem with Herod’s request that they return to tell him where this king could be found. God revealed to them what Herod’s true intention was to use their information to kill Joshua, and so they returned home without going through Jerusalem.

God sent an angel to Joseph at the same time. The angel told him that Herod wanted to kill my son, so he was to take us and flee to Egypt. Talk about a rainy day. We could not have made the trip to Egypt, let alone paid off our debts in Bethlehem or even set up Joseph’s business in Egypt without the gifts that the Persians had brought.

Later we heard the horrible news about what Herod did to the children of Bethlehem. It makes my heart ache for all those mothers just thinking about it. He had every boy under the age of two slaughtered. I thank God for his mercy and am reminded of his grace toward us every time I think of it.

Later, after we heard that Herod had died, we returned home to Nazareth. We had a couple more children when we moved back there and quite a few more after that. Joseph rejoined his family carpentry business and, of course, passed his skills on to our sons. When my daughters married, I realized how difficult it must have been for my mother to deal with my pregnancy and the subsequent events that took us far from home and far from her. A mother holds her children close to her heart regardless of what they do or where they go. Little did I know at the time, the anguish that was in store for me. I could guess at it, but I never imagined…but that is another story for another day.

Holiday Stress

2011-11-29T12:25:00.001-07:00

Whew! November is over.

It begins with the craft fair at work. I start getting ready a couple of months before, making things to sell. But the big push happens in the week before the sale. Gathering things together, deciding what to charge, making the tags and attaching them. Then setting up the sale and taking it back down again.

Then I have to redo all the tags for the Front Range Fiber Artisans holiday sale that comes a couple of weeks later. It also requires a shift of product. The craft fair is lower end and the holiday sale is higher end.

During that are 2 birthdays in my family which we all gather for and celebrate. We took the niece and nephew to the Denver Art Museum that day to have some fun and get out of the house.

As soon as the sales and birthdays are done it's time to gear up for Thanksgiving. With my immediate family all living fairly close together, it's always a big affair. With the addition of my Dad's side of the family we had almost 20 people at my Mom's house. Naturally we all pitched in to help with all the work. It was great family time, but wore me out.

Then, there's the new addition to the family. Calypso. Kittens are so adorable it's hard to say goodnight. So I find myself staying up too late just to enjoy her.

And now it's December and time to get ready for Christmas.

Christmas us fairly simply compared to the families of many of my friends and coworkers. We try to keep it with little to no financial expectations with regard to gifts. It's about family, not the presents. Although, that's more of a grown up attitude, so we try to have nice (but not too extreme) gifts for the kids that feed their interests and will inspire them long after the holiday is past.

Since my husband was laid off, it's a handmade Christmas for us this year. Fortunately we both sold enough at the sales to buy materials to make gifts. But, handmade gifts take time. So while Paul sits at his jeweler's bench all day, I sit in front of the TV and crochet and knit all evening...when the cat isn't playing with my yarn or knitting needles.

Tree hunting is a family tradition and that's on Sunday the 4th this year. So I should be able to get fairly far along on somebody's gift on the way up to the tree cutting area in the national forest.

Inventions That Make a Difference: LuminAID

2011-11-07T16:22:00.000-07:00

It's been a long time since I did an Inventions That Make a Difference post. So here's something I ran across today.

LuminAID inflatable solar lights.

It's a flat piece of plastic with a hole to inflate it. On one side is a film thin solar panel with a place for 2 coin cell rechargeable batteries. It's a great idea and puts out a lot of light. Especially for disaster areas.

The only long term drawback I see is the batteries. How long do they last before they need to be replaced? If they have to be replaced, or the light itself has to be replaced, how do you go about doing that in a long term, developing world situation? Solar is awesome until your batteries wear out and you can't replace them. Then you're back where you started.

If you're interested, they are seeking funding for further development. If you are part of an NGO interested in using something like this, give them your feedback. They will appreciate it.

58: The Film

2011-10-21T12:18:00.000-07:00

View this trailer, then download it for free (sign up for free account) here.

Regarding the Glass Ceiling

2011-10-14T14:32:00.002-07:00

Quote from Big Think:

"What most women are seeing in the workplace is a bunch of guys throwing out half-formed ideas, not particularly well-thought out, yet they’re rallying everyone and getting tons of resources put behind them while many women are waiting for their idea to be more researched, more perfect." Tara Mohr

The Crazy Ones Think Different

2011-10-06T10:38:00.000-07:00

I've always liked this Apple commercial because it resonates with how I'm made.

Those of us who "think different" run into a lot of barriers, walls, and people who insist we have to toe the established line. We're always having to disassemble those barriers, tear down those walls, and try to educate or go around those people who insist we have to toe the established line. It's amazing that we get anything done at all.

Which is probably why I also like the phrase...

So if this commercial resonates with you whether you're an Apple fan or not...

September Past

2011-10-04T16:30:00.002-07:00

I think I'm always going to look back on September 2011 with mixed feelings.

• It started out slow, too slow, at work. It was so slow and I was so bored, I just wanted to put my head on my desk and take a nap. That would have looked bad, so I took them with my head on my chin facing my computer. That way I looked less suspicious...I hope.

• Work picked up about half way through the month. No, it didn't pick up. It went from 0 to 100 in an afternoon. It became so insane I didn't even have time to think back blissfully on my naps of the first half of the month.

• At the beginning of the month and the end of the month we got to celebrate family birthdays with family get togethers. I come from a very functional family and we love to hang out together. I'm sure it can be a strain on those who married us, but they manage. My aunt had hers at the beginning of the month. My brother's birthday is technically at the beginning of October, but as he was going to be away we celebrated at the same time as our niece who turned 6. A lot of fun and food was to be had by all.

• In the middle of the month, my almost 16 year old cat Calvin passed away while Honey and I were out of town for a break. Thankfully, my dear sister-in-law was there with him. But I miss him a lot. He was the sort of cat that proves the cat haters wrong. Devoted is definitely an accurate description. The house is so quiet without him.

• At the end of September Honey was laid off of work. I don't even know what to say about that yet except that we'll get through it and I know God has something awesome waiting for him on the other side.

• I got a bill from Ravelry, for Unyunga pattern sales in September at the beginning of October. That's a good thing since it means I sold more than $20 in patterns during the month. Could business be picking back up for the winter? I certainly hope so.

So pardon me if I'm not quite sure what to think about September 2011.

Ikea Gave Me Hope

2011-08-30T13:50:00.002-07:00

My studio could have qualified for an episode of Hoarders. About 3 1/2 years ago I developed a negative association with it because of some stuff I was dealing with and couldn't stand to be in there for long. By the time I felt like I wanted to get back in there and work, I couldn't. The furniture I had was always inadequate to my needs and, because I would only go in to grab or dump, things got out of control.

Then Ikea moved to Denver.

I have a friend who might almost be accused of idolatry in reference to her love of Ikea. So naturally I had to see if they were all that.

I got online to see what their desks and tables looked like and, lo and behold, I discovered the Expedit Workstation. An answer to one of my main problems. Not enough work surface and not enough storage. Then I found the Lack Coffee Table, an answer to another main problem. My flat drawers sat on the floor, taking up floor space and minimizing my storage space. The flat drawers are just the right size to sit on top of the coffee table. The coffee table raises them to work surface height and provides additional storage below the flat drawers.

So I've spent August reclaiming my studio space and I'm almost done. I promise to post photos when I am.

I now have a work table that has a 30"x45" surface. I also have a desk with the same dimensions. Each has a shelf where I can put tools and stuff that is relevant to that workspace. I have a new work space because I was able to raise the height of my flat drawers from 24" to 42" and more storage underneath.

I have a little more of the original mess to sort through, but I'm almost done. I've gotten this far by taking small bites at a time, but taking bites almost every day.

Hallelujah!

How to Tell if You're Doing Your Life's Work

2011-08-08T16:15:00.000-07:00

"When you’re on auto-pilot, no problem. You’ve done it before, so you recognize every pattern you’re in and there’s no need to worry.

But this also means you’re going the wrong way. You’re getting no new input, so you’re not recognizing any new patterns. If this is the way your life is going, you are actually actually becoming more useless. In an increasingly chaotic world, the best pattern recognizers win.

So the way to have an amazing life is to be constantly fearing failure, but driving forward anyway. It’s difficult to be doing this all the time. You need to pick your battles." Julien Smith, from his blog post "How to Tell if You're Doing Your Life's Work."

Slow Movement

2011-08-01T12:58:00.000-07:00

In a previous post I talked about Continuous Partial Attention and Slow Cloth. While I don't encourage the use of Wikipedia as a source for scholarly research, it is useful for general questions and research.

I really like their entry about the Slow Movement. It lists many of the "slow" movements going on right now. It's not just happening in the craft world. It's happening everywhere.

There's not a day goes by that I don't resent the fast pace of American culture. It's damaging in so many ways. So when I see people rediscovering the value of a slower lifestyle, it makes me happy.

Speak the truth in love.

2011-07-25T10:49:00.002-07:00

"Speak the truth in love."

What is more important? The truth or the love?

In many cultures the love is more important. The possibility of a relationship means they cannot tell you the total truth until they are secure in the relationship and know that the truth will not hurt it.

People in the U.S. do it differently. Speaking the truth has a higher premium so we are unguarded. We speak the truth, call a spade a spade, at whatever cost. And if the relationship suffers, well, that's too bad, the important thing is that the truth was spoken.

So what's more important? The truth or the love? The strength of the relationship or laying it all bare?

Becoming Mom

2011-06-23T13:22:00.000-07:00

As we grow older we find ourselves gradually turning into our parents. I am no exception to that. The older I get, the more like my Mom, my Dad, my grandmothers, and my aunts I become. Sometimes it's okay. Sometimes it's embarrassing and I just have to resolve myself to it. But sometimes it just feels weird, like I'm trespassing. Especially when I find myself turning into Mom.

I'm typing up my journal from the trip Honey and I took to Uganda in 2009. As I type it stirs up the happy memories from the trip as well as the memories that trip resurrected from my childhood. I came back to the point in our trip where we were preparing to go to bed in Lira, northern Uganda. The mosquitoes were bad and we definitely needed the mosquito net provided.

"Then with Honey in bed, I tucked in the net and got in myself."

I remember that as I tucked in the net around the edge of the bed that it was Mom who had done that the last time I had slept under one. Somehow it felt like I was all grown up. Never mind the fact that I was 42 at the time.

I guess there are just some things that become the domain of our elders and when we enter into that domain ourselves, it feels strange.

Playing For Change | Three Little Birds

2011-06-01T15:05:00.000-07:00

Playing For Change | Three Little Birds
Check this out for a fun music video. It's a composite made of musicians and singers around the world. The whole site is full of good stuff like this.

The Two Marys

2011-04-21T20:12:00.003-07:00

As I climbed out of bed in the cold, dark morning, my whole body ached. Not with my arthritis, but with the grief of loss. Loss of hope in a better future. I tried not to disturb my husband as I pulled back my blanket and stepped gingerly over the sleeping forms of my two youngest children. I pulled a wrap over the top of my robe, combed my hair and tucked the package I had prepared and wrapped the night before under my arm.

As I quietly closed the door behind me, my friend Mary broke away from the shadows touching my arm lightly. Together we turned and walked in the beginning dawn, down the street.

We reached the city gate just as it was being opened for the day and continued out toward the gardens and orchards that lay just outside the city walls. Mary and I had planned this as we were preparing the evening meal after the Sabbath the previous night. The day before that was the day that Jesus was crucified. We were, all of us, in a state of shock. None of us had seen it coming. We were all still numb from it all and how fast it had happened.

Last night Mary and I had talked about it, processing, trying to understand. Somehow, it seemed to help to talk about it. My husband refused to and so I needed someone. That was when Mary reminded me that there hadn’t been time to properly prepare his body for burial. The men had gone with Nicodemus to take care of it while we women stayed home to finish preparations for the Sabbath. There had been barely enough time to wash his body, wrap it and place it in the tomb. So we had decided to go early, as soon as the sun began to rise, in order to finish the proper burial necessities.

We didn’t talk at all as we walked. The only sounds were of roosters crowing, the slap of our sandals on the path, and our breathing, a little heavier from moving quickly in order to stay warm.

As we neared the garden where the tomb was located, we slowed down. It was darker under the olive trees and we didn’t want to miss our footing. Mary was leading the way when suddenly she stopped and gasped. With my head down to watch the path, I nearly ran into her. She spun around and said, “How will we get in? We can’t move the stone on our own.” We hadn’t thought of that last night. We were so wrapped up in our grief and needing to do something that we had forgotten about the stone over the door. “Maybe someone will come by that we can ask to help us,” I said. She turned around and we kept going. Just as we were almost to the clearing in front of the tomb we saw a flash of bright light coming through the trees and heard men's voices crying out. We ran forward in time to see a blinding white figure rolling the stone away from the tomb entrance. Mary and I held onto each other, seeing Roman soldiers laying on the ground as if they had been struck dead. When the stone came to a halt, the shining figure sat down upon it, looked right at us and said, “Don’t be afraid. I know that you’re here looking for Jesus of Nazareth. He’s not here, he is risen from the dead. See? The tomb is empty. Go and tell his disciples.”

I thought I was going to hyperventilate. One moment we were in utter despair and fear and then this glorious man was telling us that Jesus wasn’t dead anymore. He was alive!

Mary and I looked at each other for a moment, then picked up our skirts and ran back the way we had come. “He’s alive!” I gasped. “We have to tell everyone,” she flung back. Being a lot younger than I, Mary got a little ahead of me. At the edge of the trees I saw her come to an abrupt halt then fall down on her face on the ground. I caught up within moments and joined when I saw that he was standing there before us. We wept and whispered, “Master.” He was beautiful. He came to us, raised us up and said, “Rejoice, I have risen. Go and tell everyone – especially Peter.” Then he sent us on our way again. We ran even faster then, climbing the hill, plunging through the gate and rushing down the street. By the time we reached my house, I had lost both my package of burial spices and my wrap. I burst into our house where my family were just getting up and around.

“He’s alive! He has risen!” I shouted. “We must tell everyone." My husband looked puzzled as I turned and went back out to follow Mary running up the street. We ran to Nicodemus’ house where the disciples were staying, my husband and children catching up with me. Mary pounded on the door until one of the servants let her in. We pushed our way through to where everyone was just getting seated. Mary shouted, “He’s alive, he’s risen. The tomb is empty and we saw him on the way back. He said to tell you that he is risen, just as he said he would be.” After a brief stunned silence, there was a sudden uproar of voices, asking questions all at once.

I looked for Peter. I loved him like a son and knew that he hurt more than the rest of us after his rebuke and then his betrayal. He was still seated, a little off on his own with a look in his eyes that told me he wasn’t sure if he dared hope. I went to him and knelt down beside him. “Peter, he said to tell you especially. He’s no longer dead. He’s risen. An angel showed us the empty tomb and he met us on the way back. He especially wanted you to know." At that, without a word, he leapt up and ran out of the house.

After that, so many things happened that it’s all a blur. I do remember when Peter came back. He was no longer quiet and withdrawn, but had returned to his own impulsive, rambunctious self. He had been to the tomb after I spoke to him and found that not only had Jesus left, but he had removed the linens they had wrapped his body in. They had the stains from his wounds but had been neatly set aside and left since they were no longer needed. He really had risen!

Some were still skeptical and we were all still afraid of repercussions from the priests and the Romans. Somehow they had hushed up the story the soldiers who had been guarding the tomb must have told. I often wonder what happened to them. However, it was getting around that Jesus had risen and our little group kept growing throughout the next couple of days.

One evening after our meal, the disciples were discussing what to do next. They had elected a new member to replace Judas and his name was Thomas. He was one of the main skeptics, but participated with firm opinions on what course of action needed to be taken in order to avoid the authorities.

Then suddenly, Jesus was there. He was standing in the midst of us as if he’d been there all along. As people realized he was there, they gasped. Mary and I simply exchanged glances and smiled. We knew he would show up again. The next few days were utterly amazing and ended with our Messiah rising into the heavens to sit at the right hand of the Father as an advocate on our behalf. Some became discouraged and fearful again, but all that changed during Pentecost.

But that’s Peter’s story to tell.

The Doctor’s Story

2011-04-15T18:32:00.002-07:00

I'm not a writer, but God gives me stories to write occasionally. I've kept them to myself until now because I never think they're quite good enough. Over the last few months God has been convicting me of that. I guess he means for me to share.

My uncle recently passed away from cancer. He and my aunt were hoping he would be able to go to Palermo for Holy Week, but instead he celebrates in the presence of God. My cousin is accompanying her Mom in place of her father.

So, I step out in faith and dedicate the stories of Easter I'm going to post in his memory.

Uncle Vince, you're missed but we praise God you're in His presence.

The Doctor’s Story
My name is Dr. Nick Demus and I have an incredible story to tell. My specialty or preferred area of research is law and theology. I’ve participated in many debates and contributed to the laws that people have lived by in my country. I have always enjoyed my job and the things I’ve been able to accomplish. However, it was never quite enough. Something was missing.

I started hearing about a teacher who had been traveling extensively throughout the country. I started making enquiries to learn more about him because the reports I had heard were quite positive. Apparently his specialty was, like mine, law and theology. However, I couldn’t find any evidence of higher education which caused my interest to be piqued even further. He was an independent scholar. From what I was hearing he had extensive knowledge of the law and a controversial theological interpretation of it.

When I began to hear grumbling and complaints about him from my colleagues, I decided to seek him out and hear what he had to say for myself.

I found that he was interested in returning to and clarifying the original intent of the law. Over the years, those of us who had added specifics so that adherence the law could be measured had mired it down in confusion and restraint. It had become so confining by the time I had begun my studies that even fixing food to eat on the Sabbath was against the law. There were those of us who sought to return to our Lord’s original intent, but mainstream resistance was intense and we risked ending our careers and sacrificing our credibility if we were too anti-establishment.

Not only was this teacher not interested in mainstream manifestations and interpretations of the law, he was extremely focused on people. It didn’t matter, rich or poor, young or old. He cared about them. There were reports that, in addition to teaching, he was healing the sick, touching lepers, and offering the forgiveness of sins. Talk about controversy! To touch someone or something unclean is expressly forbidden by law and that is agreed upon in the most liberal of circles. To offer forgiveness is to claim equality with God, and that is blasphemous. It endangers your very soul.

Occasionally my colleagues would attempt to trip him up with trick questions or controversial and seemingly unanswerable questions. They always left those encounters angry and seething in their embarrassment.

I became more and more interested in him and saw him speak and teach as often as I could. It began to transform my thinking and as a result, my life. The more I heard, the more I wanted.

Finally, just before he was taken, I met with him secretly. I had a burning question that I had to know the answer to, but didn’t want to risk discovery over. I met him at night in the darkness on the roof of the house where he was staying.

I asked him the most crucial question of all. “How can I be saved?” I had to know. I knew that before God I was as unclean as a leper. No matter how hard I tried, no matter how well I followed the law. Even with the foolish and cumbersome additions made over the centuries, I knew that even one failure covered me as if I had followed nothing.

His response caught me off guard and at first I felt a flash of embarrassed anger. “You must be born again.” I had exposed myself, become vulnerable and all he said is that I must be reborn. But, I bit my tongue and asked for clarification. His explanation changed the course of my life.

God was calling me to a spiritual rebirth. To become a son of God, not just of Abraham. To believe that Jesus was God’s only son and that through him I could receive a guarantee of forgiveness and eternal life.

My faith in this new revelation faltered when he was taken, tried, and crucified. I felt like my hope had been given a foundation only to have it pulled out from under me. But, I couldn’t let go of the fact that it all made sense and that the life of this young man, Jesus, answered all the questions raised by the law and the prophets. Somehow, I knew that God would work it out. I had no idea how, but I had to trust him.

When we realized Jesus was dead, it became imperative to find a place to bury his body. When my colleague, Joseph asked if I would help him move the body to his personal tomb, I didn’t even have to think twice before agreeing to help. We barely had time to do minimum preparations to the body before placing it in his tomb. The Sabbath was upon us and the women said they would come back later to finish what needed to be done. We had no other choice.

When the women did go back, they found his body gone. He was risen from the dead! When I heard that he was risen...when I heard that he was risen from the dead...that he had overcome death, the joy in my heart was overwhelming.

The word spread among the followers like the hills on fire before planting. We all came together, hoping he would come to us. He did and my hope was restored and my trust justified. I’ll never forget the day that he ascended into heaven. All of us, all of his followers and their families were there.

Now they call us Christians. The message of Good News given to us by Jesus, the Messiah, the Son of God has spread across the world.

The Truth of History: A Voyage Long and Strange

2011-04-09T13:06:00.001-07:00

What is considered the truth of history truly depends on those telling the story. I'm listening to an audio book on the history of the discovery of the new world and establishment of colonials called "A Voyage Long and Strange" by Tony Horwitz which addresses the truth of the history of the United States.

He states that when studying U.S. history, children are told about Plymouth Rock and the first Thanksgiving, but not much about the true place of those events in the discovery of the New World by Europeans. He sets out on his own voyage of discovery to find the true history of European discovery and exploration in the United States and it takes him beyond our borders to Canada, the Caribbean, and Central America.

It wasn't until the 20th century that confirmation of the Viking settlement in Newfoundland was discovered and now people might know who Leif Ericson was. But in spite of the fact that the Spanish settled the Southwest about the same time as the landing of the Mayflower, you don't hear about it in the class room. Even the Spanish foray into, and naming of Florida is mired in fable.

Living in Colorado, it's hard not to be aware of the Spanish colonial influence. It's everywhere in names, language, and the landscape. The main street of Colorado Springs is Tejon (pronounced Tay-hone), one of the high schools is called Coronado, and the state name means "reddish" in Spanish. But the best place to find the history of Spanish colonials is New Mexico.

Unfortunately, much of that history seems (to me) to be tainted by European American obsession with illegal immigrants crossing our southern border. I'm NOT going to address that other than to point out that many people lumped together with illegal immigrants have been living on lands now part of the United States since the late 1500s and early 1600s. As long as (sometimes longer) than those who came on the Mayflower.

But if you'd like to know more about the part of the United States named the Nuevo Mundo (New World) by the Spanish I strongly recommend a visit to New Mexico, some internet surfing for Spanish Colonial history in the Southwest, or reading/listening to Mr. Horwitz's book.

Here's some dates:
• Arizona and New Mexico were explored by Coronado in 1540.
• Oñate returned in force in 1598 to claim the area called New Spain. They established the city of Santa Fe in 1608 and made it the capital of the province in 1610. That makes it the oldest, continuously occupied capital city in the United States and it celebrated its 400th anniversary in 2010.
• In 1821 Mexico declared independence and all New Spain territories became part of the new empire of Mexico. This included Las Californias, Nuevo México, and Texas.
• The annexation of Texas by the United States in 1845 resulted in the Mexican-American War The U.S. won that war and so Las Californias and Nuevo México became territories of the United States about 1848. Statehood turned them into California, Arizona, Nevada, Utah, New Mexico, and Colorado.

The Spanish were brutal (what colonials weren't) but they introduced tools, plants, horses and sheep still found in the Southwest today.

New Mexico is still a very Spanish and Native American place and people descended from Spaniards still live there. They are as proud of their heritage as any descendant of those who arrived on the Mayflower. But Puebloans will be happy to tell you the horrors they suffered at the hands of the Conquistador.

What I have here is overly simplified, but it is a history of the beginnings of the United States that you can discover in person by visiting the people and places of the Southwest. Places such as Santa Fe, Taos, Acoma, Zuni, El Morro National Monument, and Canyon de Chelly where the image of Spanish Conquistadors was drawn on the canyon wall by Navajo ancestors.

Bee Gees

2011-03-08T11:58:00.001-07:00

It's another flashback. The radio was on because I needed to get my mind off of work so I could start thinking about what I needed to do in pottery class. The radio program played a brief snippet of a Bee Gees song and I flashed back to boarding school.

When I was in 6th through 8th grade I shared a room with 3 other girls at Woyke House. We were either elementary or junior high aged. The other girls room was for the high schoolers and it was like a different world. The walls were covered in posters and music played from their cassette tape players. The girls were Americans, Canadians, Brits, and Fijians depending on the semester. The posters were of the hottest disco era artists such as the Village People and the Bee Gees.

The Bee Gees album "Saturday Night Fever" was new and it got played a lot. I didn't know there was a movie since we didn't have a movie theater, but we all knew who the Bee Gees were and loved listening to their music. The boys would sing in falsetto and the girls learned all the latest dance moves. (Don't tell anyone. It was against the Woyke House rules to dance.) Someone even brought a strobe light from Europe or North America that was used at school events and "birthday" parties since we didn't have a disco ball.

Since keeping our Pop culture experience up to date was reliant on those of us just returning from "home" in North America or Europe, we were always a little behind. So when my family came back to the States in the middle of eighth grade, it was rather unnerving to find that no one was obsessed with the Bee Gees anymore and had moved on to other groups and fashions. I never did quite get caught up.

It took me forever to figure out who Journey, Genesis, U2, Van Hallen, Prince, Michael Jackson, and Metallica were. And by the time I did, most people didn't care about them anymore because they'd already moved on to Madonna, Pink Floyd, and the Talking Heads. And so I've given up. I'm finding that I'm too old to relate to some of the newer bands and I get fed up with the spacey DJs, so I just listen to stuff I like.

I think I've gone from out-of-sync kid-from-Africa to too-old-to-care forty-something.

Amazing Thing

2011-03-08T11:32:00.001-07:00

There's this amazing thing that happens when the temperature and weather are just the right combination.

The world turns into a white sculpture. Every branch and blade of grass encased in white.

10 lessons for young designers

2011-02-22T18:24:00.000-07:00

This is from an article about the designer John C Jay.

1. Be authentic. The most powerful asset you have is your individuality, what makes you unique. It’s time to stop listening to others on what you should do.
2. Work harder than anyone else and you will always benefit from the effort.
3. Get off the computer and connect with real people and culture. Life is visceral.
4. Constantly improve your craft. Make things with your hands. Innovation in thinking is not enough.
5. Travel as much as you can. It is a humbling and inspiring experience to learn just how much you don’t know.
6. Being original is still king, especially in this tech-driven, group-grope world.
7. Try not to work for stupid people or you'll soon become one of them.
8. Instinct and intuition are all-powerful. Learn to trust them.
9. The Golden Rule actually works. Do good.
10. If all else fails, No. 2 is the greatest competitive advantage of any career.

Memories of Shaving Soap

2011-02-21T12:01:00.001-07:00

Yesterday my husband and I were in a local kitchen specialty store looking for a cheese slicer. Our favorite one is worn out. After finding one that was like the old one, but more awesome, we browsed.

In the back of the store, a bar of soap caught my eye. It wasn't your usual looking bar of soap. It was a cube about 2 1/2" square, kind of beige semi-transparent, and caused me to flash back in time for a moment.

Our kitchen at Mbingo was separate from the house. It was a big room with windows on two sides, long counter space for working, and cupboards underneath. The wood stove was on the opposite wall and our milk separator stood in the corner near the other windowless wall. The sink was under one of the windows and I was required to help with dishes when our cook had the day off. Probably Sundays.

When doing dishes it wasn't a simple matter of running the faucet and squeezing out some dish detergent. You had to fill the sink with very hot water and carve chunks of soap off a big bar into it until you had enough suds to get to work. In my memories the kitchen and the bar of soap are the same color. Smokey beige.

I'm glad I don't have to carve a bar of soap every time we do dishes anymore. And my dish soap comes in pretty colors now, too.

Wedding Song

2011-02-14T14:01:00.002-07:00

Today I was reminded of the song my husband sang to me at our wedding by a friend who is getting married soon.

So, since it's Valentine's Day...enjoy.

May Your Spirit be Triumphant

2011-01-11T15:06:00.000-07:00

If you've been following my blog, you will have noticed that my last two posts have been about fear. The first one was sparked by a coworker's experience in Haiti after the election announcements in December.

So, I thought I'd encourage you to go check out Brandy's recent posts at Haiti: Rising from the Rubble. The first one is May Your Spirit be Triumphant. The second one is That One Thing. Check back since there will be 2 more posts by her.

It's so easy to allow fear to paralyze us. Even the small fears. While fear can be a healthy thing and keep us from entering unsafe situations, it can also prevent us from forging forward for the Kingdom of God. That's what I love about her first post, May Your Spirit be Triumphant. She talks about that battle in herself between her flesh/fear and her spirit/call from God.

There are new things to fear revealed weekly in my family's lives and I keep telling myself what Jesus said to his disciples. “Take courage! It is I. Don’t be afraid.”

"Even though I walk through the darkest valley,I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me."

Mountains Out of Molehills

2011-01-06T11:05:00.000-07:00

Okay, so maybe I'm a little to interested in fear right now. But I saw a cool illustration today and had to share it.

A blog I like to follow is called Information is Beautiful. It's by a man who's agency specializes in creating beautiful and easy to read images depicting boring statistical information.

His latest post is a marvelous revision of his Mountains Out of Molehills graphic. He has visualized what people have/are afraid of as opposed to what actually happens over the past decade. Click back and forth (bottom right of the graphic) to see the things we obsess over and what actually happens.

Optimists are gonna love it. We worry about a lot of things that never happen and too much about things that rarely happen.

What the pessimists will notice is that we don't worry enough about killer wasps.

Memories: Being Afraid

2010-12-09T13:43:00.001-07:00

There are only two times I that I can remember experiencing fear for my personal safety when we lived in Africa.

Once was on the way to boarding school when I was about 10.

That time we flew. We lifted off from the rough airstrip at Mbingo, Cameroon and headed north and a little west toward Jos, Nigeria. It was rainy season and when it rains, it POURS! Our small, six person plane was unable to fly high enough to get above the rain, so the pilot had to land somewhere.

I don't know all the details and I should probably get those from my parents. What I do know is that we ended up landing on a Nigerian military runway under construction.

Our pilot could not get them to give him permission to land, but he did anyway. There was no place else to go, and he had to keep the safety of all 5 children aboard in mind. He chose to take the risk of landing in the hope that when they saw a plane full of children, that they'd back down.

I remember that when we landed it was a concrete runway strewn with debris, mostly rocks. I thought it was odd that they would leave such a nice runway so messy. When we finally rolled to a stop, a very angry solder with a big gun came running up to the pilot's window. He stood under the wing, protected from the down pour while he harangued our pilot. The gist of it was that we were forbidden to land and that we had to leave immediately. Our pilot calmly responded that he would do so as soon as the rain let up and had only landed to protect the children. It was very tense and I remember that we all just sat and watched silently.

I don't know if the soldier realized the truth of the situation or if he just didn't have a response to that. But he finally stopped shouting and we waited with him standing under the wing until the down pour became a drizzle. At that point he made it clear we were to leave immediately.

The second time was just before we left Africa when I was almost 14.

There was political unrest in Nigeria and we began hearing about things going on in the capital city (it was Lagos then). I remember that one of my classmates was afraid because her Dad had been shot (but not killed) in an attack on their compound. There was also talk about whether it would get as bad as the "last time." The last time was the Biafran War.

Suddenly, the armed guard that watch over our compound at night didn't seem enough. He was there for thieves, not mobs.

Slow Cloth and the Off Switch

2010-12-03T11:48:00.005-07:00

I ran across a new term today. Continuous Partial Attention. It got me thinking about some of the things that I struggle with and see the people around me struggling with even more. The concepts of Slow Cloth and using the off switch.

In the fiber industry the term "Slow Cloth" means pretty much what it sounds like. Something made slowly, by hand, with excellence and pride by the maker and with consideration for the end user. Examples of slow cloth could be the hat a wife crochets for her husband, the dress a grandma makes for her grand-daughter, the table a son makes for his mom, the pendant a man makes for his sister-in-law... You get the idea. Things made by hand, with excellence and love.

Slow Cloth is directly opposed to Continuous Partial Attention. It requires full attention and commitment from the maker while making. No working and Twittering at the same time. Email is out of the question. And no talking on the phone and sewing at the same time. Not if you are committed to excellence and love.

The Slow Cloth concept applies to other areas of life as well.

• When you go to a meeting at work, how many people have their laptops open "taking notes" and checking email, watching videos friends on Facebook posted, Twittering about how boring the meeting is, working on other projects because it's due right after the meeting...? Or do you have their full attention because they've left their smart phone and computer at their desk?

• How many people are driving and on the phone at the same time, not really paying full attention to the road or others around them? I'm very thankful for the "no texting while driving" law in Colorado. What scares me is the need for such a law. Do you try to multitask while driving or do you actually give your driving your full attention?

• Have you ever sat down in a restaurant with your spouse and found that both of you immediately pull out your smart phones and start checking email and Facebook or playing a game? Oops. Guilty as charged and I'm trying to be more conscious about keeping it put away. We should be talking and enjoying each other not distracted by our phones.

This is where using the off switch comes in. Most of those things in our current lives that we allow to distract us (create Continuous Partial Attention) have an off switch. If you can't let the phone ring, ignore email or texts, stay off of Twitter or Facebook, or whatever it is...Turn It Off.

"But I can't. People need to be able to get a hold of me." Set limits and communicate them with people. Then stick to it. You'll be amazed how it changes your life. You'll be MORE productive, more engaged, more connected with those around you, more creative, and certainly less stressed out. Don't believe me? Prove it! I dare you.

So my Christmas wish for us all this year? Be more slow cloth and turn it off if you can't leave it alone. Actually BE with your loved ones 100%. It's the best gift of all.

Dan Phillips on Waste and Creativity

2010-12-01T16:52:00.000-07:00

This guy is good.

He makes houses out of construction site waste and junk and they're beautiful. But I really like how he looks at materials and what many people would call waste. He blames the waste of the construction industry on the Apollonian ideal and lists all the advantages of his more Dionysian method. This doesn't just apply to building construction, but to everything we do.

Quote for the Day

2010-11-22T13:10:00.000-07:00

“What information consumes is rather obvious. It consumes the attention of its recipients. Hence a wealth of information creates a poverty of attention.”
~Herbert Simon

What are we losing, what is becoming harmed or threatened with extinction because we allow ourselves to be consumed by all the information that is thrown at us?

Sense of fulfillment.
Spouses.
Kids.
Co-workers.
Neighbors.
Physical and mental health.
Jobs.

.....

My First Crochet Pattern to be Published in a Magazine

2010-11-08T19:37:00.000-07:00

So I've had a few firsts this year. First article published in a magazine, first time independently publishing patterns for my own crochet designs with the help and support of many people...

And now I'm so excited to announce that my Monte Vista Collar is going to be published in the Winter issue of Knit Circus Magazine due out this Wednesday. My first pattern published in a magazine.

It's a button up cowl made from Classic Elite's Inca Alpaca yarn. The pattern comes with crochet symbol diagrams.

I'm especially honored to be part of the first issue of Knit Circus to include crochet patterns.

It Was a Good Day to Dye

2010-10-30T20:41:00.004-07:00

I couldn't resist the Halloween humor, but it really was a good day to dye. The sun was out, the weather was warmer than it had been and I was able to spend some time with new friends.

I recently joined the Front Range Fiber Artisans, a group of people who work with fiber in one way or another. Knitting, crochet, weaving, embroidery, sewing, quilting, paper arts, etc.

A couple of months ago we got together on a couple of evenings to use knitting machines to knit "blanks." I knitted up about 400 yards of some of my handspun alpaca in a natural white.

I was really pleased with how well it knitted up.

Then we got together today to dye them.

The woman who hosted had dyes mixed up in bottles ready to go as well as a couple of tables. Another member of our group showed up with the steamers (giant ones she got at the local Asian market), a couple more tables, and commercial sized rolls of plastic wrap.

We laid out our blanks (soaked in water and acidic wash) and, using syringes and brushes, applied the dyes. When we had finished coloring, we wrapped each piece like a tortilla in plastic wrap and placed them in the steamer for an hour.

After pulling them out of the steamer we let them cool down, unwrapped them, rinsed out the excess dye, and squeezed out all the excess water.

This is what mine looked like after it was unwrapped. I had painted on random stripes of blue, purple, and green. In the steamer the edges blended together causing the colors to transition softly.

I took it home and unraveled the knitting when it was dry enough. A little kinky, but the colors are beautiful.

Now, what to make with it.

When I got home, my creative engine was still rev-ed up, so I decided to break out the kool-aid. I had a blast.

America or the United States of America?

2010-10-04T10:59:00.000-07:00

Can I just rant a bit?

I've noticed an increase in the use of "America" instead of "The United States" or "The United States of America" or "USA" lately and it's driving me nuts! People have always done it, but it seems like the use of it is getting worse. Even the government is in on it with their america.gov site.

America is made of up 2 major continents called North America and South America with a nice little connector area commonly known as Central or Middle America. They're all full of wonderful American people.

So when we talk about America, we should remember that those of us living in the USA are not the only ones in America. Granted, calling ourselves the USofA-ans or USers or United Statesians is too cumbersome. So we call ourselves Americans. But calling our country "America" is going a little too far.

So PLEASE, refrain from calling our country "America." We are the the United States of America.Or the US, USA, United States, or even just The States.

Do we take no pride in our country that we abbreviate its name inappropriately? Are we so ethnocentric as to think that the people living in the United States are it and everyone else doesn't count? Or are we just lazy? Calling the United States by just the name America is like wearing pajamas to the grocery store. Eww! Just don't go there!

Just because other American countries have it easy and can just add "ans" or some other form to the end of their country name doesn't mean we should take over all the rights to the word "America."

Calling our country "America" could be compared to France calling their country "Europe," South Africa calling themselves "Africa," or China calling their country "Asia." Yeah, it doesn't work does it?

So that's my rant today. It's been on my mind for a couple of months now and I just needed to say something. Maybe it's because I've lived on the outside and have had my perspective skewed a different direction from those raised in the USA.

But then, maybe that's what's needed. A little different perspective.

Simply Great Idea: A Better Pizza Box

2010-09-23T10:33:00.001-07:00

Ideas to Give Away: Watch Batteries Made Easy

2010-09-21T16:15:00.001-07:00

I really hate changing my watch battery.

I used to take my watches to a kiosk at the mall. Not only was it inconvenient, but the very last time I went they broke the crystal and replaced it with glue everywhere. I made them fix that, but afterward my watch face fell apart inside. So now I do it myself. It's not complicated, just tiny.

So I would love it if someone could invent a watch battery that could be recharged without removal. Like my iPod or computer. Before bed, you just attach a tiny plug to the watch and the other end to the wall and in the morning it's all charged up. Maybe they have and it's just so out of my price range that I don't know it exists. In that case, make it affordable.

Better yet, if a battery could be invented that could be charged through the watch body then you could use it on any watch, not just special ones with plugs.

If you're up to the challenge and decide to do this, please consider me as a tester. I'd love to help.

Ideas to Give Away: Motel Art Cooperative

2010-09-17T15:03:00.000-07:00

Since I've been inspired by my previous post, I'm going to start telling you about ideas that I have. They're available to anyone who wants to pursue them. I'll keep the ones for me to myself.

Idea: Motel Art Cooperative
Every now and then I see one those motels where there's a house/office in the middle surrounded or backed by small room units that's kind of run down and lonely. I can't help but think that it could make a great art cooperative.

Imagine this: The house/office becomes a retail gallery space. The rooms become studio space. Every one of them has running water and a bathroom and the room is often large enough for the average artist looking for space.

Those who rent the studios can show their work in the retail gallery and help to run it just like a regular art cooperative. If there is space on the grounds, a garden to house larger sculptures could be created, giving the whole space an inviting feel to passers by.

It's also an ideal situation for a studio walk since you could visit 15-40 artists very easily, moving from room to room. Most motels are grouped in the same area, making other businesses within that cluster likely to succeed with the touristy crowd.

Bureau of Idea Approval

2010-09-16T12:02:00.001-07:00

I love this blog post on Monetize Yourself. Pardon the pun, but it's a good idea. We should all work together to make our world a more idea-friendly place. I have experienced how idea-unfriendly our culture can be.

"Wait a minute," you say. "I see a lot of people making their ideas happen. The United States is built on the concept of entrepreneurship."

My response to that is, "Then why aren't you acting on your good ideas?"

What you've probably discovered is that if you tell someone about a good idea you have, especially if it's your spouse or someone close to you, you were probably humored if not immediately discouraged. When I say "humored" I mean that they don't believe you can do it but they don't want to say it out loud.

Those who turn their ideas into reality aren't the only ones with good ideas. They were either well supported and encouraged by those close to them, had to convince their loved ones that it's worth encouraging and supporting them, or they simply chose to go against the grain and do it anyway.

So, are you one of those people with a great idea? GO FOR IT. DO WHATEVER IT TAKES IF YOU REALLY BELIEVE IN IT!

Have you been discouraged by those close to you who don't believe in you or that you can do it? That's a hard one.

Your road is going to be much harder. If those holding you back are friends or other people you're not married or related to, get them out of your life. You don't need them. If you are related or married to them, you then have to figure out how to develop a healthier relationship so that they can learn to encourage you in your dreams.

Poverty

2010-09-07T11:27:00.000-07:00

This is a quote from "Nine Hills to Nambonkaha" by Sarah Erdman. She was a Peace Corp worker in Ivory Coast and this book is her story about her experiences there.

"Poverty no longer means rags to me. It doesn't mean mud huts and no beds, because that's how most live here. It doesn't mean starving kids, because most of those round bellies are just swollen with worms; serious malnutrition seems more of an accident than an obstacle. Poverty is something I nearly forget in the village, because it's so well disguised in the good sense of community and the homogeneity of life. The villagers are too proud to let it show. It takes shape in the things you can't notice just passing by. Maybe you can see it if you look closely at the dinner bowls: Is the starch slowly edging out the sauce? Is there macaroni in the sauce instead of fish? The villagers seem so smiling and carefree, seem so happy, make me sure I could be glad to have nothing too. But how much do they suffer quietly? How much hunger do they swallow with a smile?" (pages 157-158)

It brings to mind what so many of us in the wealthy West suffer from. She says that poverty isn't the symptoms that are so easy for us to see. It's deeper than that and in order to eradicate it we must bring ourselves to them, humbly, as a community, with dignity. They do the best with what they have and us coming in to fix the symptoms won't work. We must love them first, and work along side them to see where the poverty really lies. Both in ourselves and in them. Then we can work together to eradicate each other's poverty.

Perhaps our gift really is to help them fill their bowls with meat and to discover how to prevent their children from getting sick so often. Even how to be able to hope for the future.

Perhaps their gift is to us is contentment with what God has given us, faith that he will always take care of us, and the ability to be generous appropriately.

What is needed all depends on the truth that is found in a relationship of trust.

Inventions That Make a Difference: Learning Landscape

2010-09-05T16:06:00.000-07:00

Invention doesn't just mean objects. It might mean interactive landscapes as described in Design Revolution: 1001 Products That Empower People by Emily Pilloton.

Project H Design came up with a Learning Landscape for teaching math. They installed one at an orphanage in Uganda and it's designed to be sturdy, fun, and educational. They designed 10 math based games to be played within a square grid with tires placed on end and buried half way up in the ground.

The games are designed to teach all the basic math concepts as well as spatial and logical reasoning.

Learn more about it and how to get one here.

Inventions That Make a Difference: FreeRice

2010-09-03T21:00:00.000-07:00

We all like games and FreeRice is a fun, educational, and helpful one featured in Design Revolution: 1001 Products That Empower People by Emily Pilloton.

It's fun because it's a game. It's educational because it teaches you vocabulary. It's helpful because while you're playing and learning, you're feeding people.

For every correct answer you get 10 grains of rice in your rice bowl. When you win 10 grains of rice, 10 grains of rice are donated to United Nations Word Food Program initiatives. The more you play, the more rice you win and the more people you feed.

For those who don't enjoy vocabulary, there are other versions which include chemistry, geography, and languages.

So go play!

Inventions That Make a Difference: Foldschool

2010-09-01T11:13:00.000-07:00

A really fun idea in Design Revolution: 1001 Products That Empower People by Emily Pilloton that might make you want to be a kid again is Foldschool DIY cardboard furniture.

If you go to the Foldschool web site you'll find free plans to download and make fun furniture for kids out of corrugated cardboard.

If you try some of this, let me know. I'd love to hear about it.

Inventions That Make a Difference: SinkPositive

2010-08-29T20:47:00.000-07:00

Here's a great idea for conserving water in Design Revolution: 1001 Products That Empower People by Emily Pilloton for those of us with toilets.

It's called SinkPositive and it can transform any regular toilet tank into a sink. Basically it's a tank lid with a faucet and a sink.

This is how it works. You've done your business and you're ready to flush the toilet. When you flip that little lever, the toilet's normal flush and refill cycle causes the faucet to spout water for washing your hands. It drains down a hole into the tank where it's used to refill your toilet bowl and tank for the next use.

You don't need clean fresh water for your toilet, so by using the SinkPositive you're getting double use out of the water you're going to use anyway and using less of it. Lower water bills, here we come!

You can get one here.

Inventions That Make a Difference: SODIS

2010-08-20T20:31:00.000-07:00

Here's another great clean water idea from Design Revolution: 1001 Products That Empower People by Emily Pilloton.

SODIS. I have no idea what the letters stand for but I do know that it's a simple solution.

If you have a clear water bottle or jar, you fill it with clear water. It has to be clear enough to read newspaper headlines through the water looking through the standing bottle from top to bottom. If it passes the clarity test, put the bottle on your tin roof and let it cook for six hours on a sunny or slightly cloudy day. If it's cloud all the time, you have to let it cook for two full days.

That's it! You've just killed the stuff that can cause diarrhea and other waterborne diseases.

The SODIS web site is here.

Inventions That Make a Difference: Hippo Water Roller

2010-08-19T17:30:00.000-07:00

The second water idea that I like from Design Revolution: 1001 Products That Empower People by Emily Pilloton is the Hippo Water Roller designed by South Africans Johan Jonker and Pettie Petzer.

It's basically a big plastic barrel with a old fashioned lawn mower handle. You roll it to your local water source, fill it up, and roll it home. It holds about 24 gallons of water which is enough for a family of five for a week.

They say that even though it weighs 40 pounds when full, a child can use it on flat terrain. They have also observed that the level of "coolness" is high enough to get the men fetching water. Needless to say, that frees up a lot of time for Moms and daughters to start businesses and go to school.

Check it out here.

Inventions That Make a Difference: Clay Water Filters

2010-08-18T19:36:00.001-07:00

I found a great book at the library called Design Revolution: 1001 Products That Empower People by Emily Pilloton. It's full of a lot of awesome designs that are try to or are solving a lot of common problems experienced here in the United States as well as globally.

When trying to solve problems experienced in the developing world (Majority South) it's hard for those in developed countries (Minority North) to remember to keep it simple. However, I think that Tony Flynn has done a pretty good job with his Clay Water Filter.

He's developed a three-ingredient water filter made from locally available materials. A pot is made from crushed terra-cotta (think tile roofs and flower pots), organic material (leaves, coffee grounds, rice hulls...), and water that is combined to form a clay substance. It's then sun dried and then fired in dry cow dung and leaves for 45 minutes. In the firing process, the organic material is burned away leaving a porous (think leaky) pot through which water can pass, but not the bad stuff (big word: pathogens).

Check out pictures here.
Get instructions here.

Creepy Crawlies

2010-08-13T11:23:00.000-07:00

Most people have problems with some form of creepy crawlies. What I have trouble with is snakes.

When you live in Africa, you learn that if you see a snake you kill it then see what kind it was. If you wait to identify it first, you're dead. Or better yet, run away REALLY fast.

So I've never been too keen on seeing a rattlesnake. It's something we have to watch out for here in Colorado, but I'd never seen a live one until yesterday.

I was walking out to my car after work rather nonchalantly, not paying a lot of attention when something small moved on the ground a little ahead of me. When I looked down and saw what it was, I literally jumped back about 2 or 3 feet.

It was a baby rattlesnake! As my curiosity drew me closer, my instincts pushed me side ways. I stood there and tried to remember if babies are poisonous and seemed to remember they were. But I had to have evidence that it was right there on the concrete step.

So, tiptoeing a "safe" distance away and keeping one eye on the snake, I pulled out my phone and turned on the camera app. Staying where I was at and leaning over very slowly so as to keep from scaring it, I took this picture.

Then I walked really quickly to my car while paying very careful attention to the ground. Where there is one baby, there are others. Thankfully, I didn't see them.

Lessons Learned

2010-08-12T12:02:00.001-07:00

I'm continually learning about myself. The funny thing is, the things I learn have been "hitting me over the head" for a long time before I finally learn. I guess that's just how it is.

Most recently learned: I process through writing.

I'm not called to be a writer, but I write a lot. It helps me think through things and figure them out. It helps me discover things and then to put them where I need them to be in my mental archive. It separates the good from the bad, the good ideas from the kitch, and even just validates my existence some times.

The learning I'm working on: I need to declutter my life continually.

I grew up in a slower paced world than the one I live in. Stuff keeps getting shoved at me or I keep picking up stuff and adding it to my life. Much of it is good stuff, but too much good stuff turns into bad stuff. And sometimes something that was good for awhile isn't good anymore. It's had its time and needs to end. So I keep tugging away at the stuff and trying to get it tweaked down to size. I think this learning is going to take an entire lifetime.

Unusual Design

2010-07-28T19:58:00.000-07:00

I'm smitten by this shop on Etsy. It's a woman named Clarice who makes beautiful "bubble" shawls and scarves. It seems she lives in Turkey.

It makes me wonder. There are some incredible crochet and other needlework traditions in Turkey that seem to be alive and well, but it's hard to find anything but pictures by Turkish women who are keeping it alive.

From what I can tell, part of the problem with finding information is how the tradition is carried on. By learning to do the basics, learning to really see how something is made, and using a swatch as your pattern.

I've been crocheting a long time and can often look at things and see how they are made to the point of writing a pattern. My Mom taught me, my brother, and sister how to see. That's a tradition that's almost lost in American culture. It seems that we've gotten to the point that everything must be handed to us.

Where's the fun in that?

My challenge to myself from this? I'm going to go get my crochet hook and see if I can figure out how Clarice does those bubbles.

Spy Book and Typewriters

2010-07-14T12:48:00.005-07:00

So I was flipping channels the other night and briefly stopped on History Detectives. I stopped and watched for a bit since they often do interesting topics.

This time it was about a spy book. I took one look at that book and my mind went off in all directions.

First, I like journals. They spark my imagination. I started reading old journals that had been written by explorers (both professional and otherwise) a few years ago and find what people write about their trips fascinating.

Second, this journal was typed in lines as close to the edge of the paper and as close together as possible. Who does that? I suppose the writer must have had such bad handwriting that it was necessary to actually sit down at a typewriter, roll in the tiny pieces of paper and type it all up. But then I had to remind myself that typewriters used to be common place. In fact the closest thing to a typewriter that I've seen lately are the fonts I like to use.

Then I thought, wouldn't it be cool to do something that looked like those pages in the spy book.

Small Spaces Require Innovation

2010-05-05T16:08:00.000-07:00

What this amazing video. This guy has been really innovative with his very small space.

Green

2010-04-25T18:06:00.000-07:00

I'm always surprised by how I'm attracted to certain colors. One of those is green and I've found myself particularly drawn to it in the last few months. So here's a collage of green in my life. Some of them are things I've had for awhile and some of them are new.

In order, left to right, top to bottom:

New quilt, purse, current crochet project, and silk shawl.

New hat from Uganda, new crochet scarf, painting, and new luggage.

Fabric, mat behind framed prints, curtains, and ziplock on a compression bag.

Tissue box, towel, new calendar, and me in a beautiful place called Mbingo.

Designing Patterns

2010-03-08T21:06:00.000-07:00

Well, I've finally done it. I'm a crochet pattern designer. Whoohoo!

Granted I only have one pattern posted, but I've got 3 more almost ready and 2 more ready for photographing and editing. Then there's the 3 designs in the "figuring out" stage and the many more sketches that are waiting their turn. I can't seem to crochet fast enough.

To find out more check out my new Unyunga blog.

A special thanks goes to my husband for his fantastic photography of me modeling. More thanks goes to my Technical Editor, Ada Lai, who helped me get my pattern format streamlined and professional.

Fight Poverty

2010-01-24T23:59:00.005-07:00

I once went into a shop in a resort town and saw a sign behind the counter that said, "I fight poverty. I work." It made me so mad that I had to leave the shop immediately to keep from saying anything. I knew it would turn into a pointless fight since the man clearly doesn't understand poverty.

I often read comments to TED postings where people say we should just give up on Africa or other of the poorest parts of the world since the places are run by war lords.

I have so much I'd love to say about it. How wrong those view points are. How easy it is to choose to believe the worst so that we don't have to do anything about it. But I don't have the words to say it.

So please visit these three links. Haiti is all over the news right now. They need help RIGHT NOW. But they need much more than our money right now. They need our long term commitment to help them achieve what they need in the future too. No more, "we're the West and we know the best" anymore. Okay?

The first link is to a blog where the author has published her account of Haiti on a visit in 2004.

Haiti: Back in the "Day"

This link is to posts from a "man on the ground."

Compassion Blog

This link is to a photo that I think says it all. Both for today and for the future. If we set out to help Haiti in the future with the same intent and intensity as we are in the aftermath of this earthquake, we could see more of this kind of joy.

Kiki

Now go help, right now! There are a lot of places that are advertising opportunities. Here's my favorite. They are in Haiti for the long haul and they're on the ground giving help to people right now.

Compassion International

People I Envy Most

2010-01-22T19:39:00.000-07:00

I realized today, as I've been sitting here racked with fever and chills (some magnificent pills have taken care of the debilitating pain), that some of the people I envy most are fictional TV characters.

The ones I'm thinking of are intelligent, creative, tell the truth, get to do what is their heart's calling, and get paid for it all. I'm sure I don't have to give examples since you are all thinking of someone already. But just in case, here's some hints. Of the many I'm thinking of, one's a forensic anthropologist and another is a math professor. Some movie examples would be an anthropologist who hates Nazis and a suave secret agent.

Yes, yes, I know. They encounter troubles, too: people who disagree with them, people who don't get it, along with bad guys every episode and a few who try to kill them. But the great thing about fiction is it has to all work out in the end. And no matter what they go through, people care and want to hear about it and help. The good guys always win.

Ah well, back to reality. Shut up and put up.

On the other hand, those pain pills are supposed to cause hallucinations in some people. Hmmm. So when do they start?

TED talk by Ken Robinson who says Schools Kill Creativity

2009-12-29T17:21:00.000-07:00

This guy has really nailed it on the head.

TED talk by Elizabeth Gilbert on Nurturing Creativity

2009-12-29T17:20:00.000-07:00

This is really good. It's a long one, but it's worth watching all of it.

Cameroon: The Last Leg

2009-12-11T21:42:00.001-07:00

Friday, Sepember 25th

Since Brian was leaving in the evening, we went to the Parc National de la Mefou (National Park of the Primate) instead of working.

“It is where rescued primates are taken. As many as can be are released back into the wild, but most cannot and so live there for the rest of their lives. That’s a long time considering that many are orphaned as babies when they come and can live into their forties (chimpanzees).” (Excerpt from Cameroon journal.)

“Each enclosure is multiple acres or hectares and has one or two keepers. The fences are very high and electric so that it delivers a shock if touched. The interior perimeter is kept short to prevent the inhabitants from climbing above the fence and leaping out. However, they are only out during the day. They are fed in cages in the evening and locked up for the night. Reason being, when the keepers are gone they contrive escape using wood sticks to pry the wires apart and prevent electrocution. If escape does happen, most are easily caught again by their keepers. The keepers are part of their troupe/group and so are family. Escaped individuals will come to them when called.” (Excerpt from Cameroon journal.)

It is really a fascinating place housing chimpanzees, gorillas, and baboons along with a few other small primates. When the young animals are brought in, they are put with others of their kind an in their age group. This becomes their group and when they're old enough to leave the nursery, an enclosure is built for the group. They are never split up. One of the gorilla groups that we were able to visit has been there long enough that the second generation has begun. It was interesting to see the very evident family relationships of alpha male (Dad), Mom, and aunties and uncles.

From there we went to the SIL Cameroon Training Center compound to shop at the boutique. One of the women keeps it stocked with sewn items made by a women's self-help cooperative in Bafut, called Seheco.

Saturday, September 26th

It was a rest day!

Dad and Lendl went to a soccer game and I stayed back at the compound reading and doing laundry. At one point in the afternoon I thought I heard rain, ...but it wasn’t raining. It kept getting louder and then I remembered. The rain was coming across the city and I was hearing it on the metal roofs as it got closer and closer.

I ran out to the line and began frantically pulling down the clothes. Just as I stepped back onto the verandah, the rain reached me. I was just in time.

Sunday, September 27th

"Covenant Baptist Church. It was planted by the first church that we went to here in Yaoundé. Their service is bilingual, so everything said in English was repeated in French. While the pastor preached in English, he would pause every 1-3 sentences so that the turn-talk could repeat it in French." (Excerpt from Cameroon journal.)

It was really good to see how the Cameroonian church has grown in both size and leadership. They are firm in their faith and are sharing with others. It was good to see that what my parents invested in when I was a child had grown and flourished. The pastor that did the sermon is a Cameroonian who evangelizes Muslims. They have missionaries! We could use a few of them here.

We rested that afternoon, then joined SIL people at the Cameroon Training Center for an evening chapel. My Dad volunteered to do the devotional. His topic was about living by faith instead of just trying hard. It was really good.

Monday, September 28th

Another work day. I was looking forward to putting up ceiling pieces with the same men I had the week before. But new guys had been hired and, being new, they were not experienced with working with white people as the other construction workers were. They might have been in awe if I had been a guy, but since I was a gal they really didn't know how to respond or what do do with me. I stuck it out and did my best to let them know I was capable without treading on their toes and being a nasty white woman. It was certainly an adventure.

Tuesday, September 29th

I switched jobs again and got apprenticed to a wall builder.

"I watched for a bit, then he showed me how to place adn adjust the blocks. He did the ends adn the corner and had me do the middle ones." (Excerpt from Cameroon journal.)

Those cement blocks are heavy and seem even heavier when you have to lift up and set down slowly and fairly accurately. I was really missing my muscles I had back in my picture framing days. I could have used them.

For supper Dad and I were the guests of an interesting couple.

"He's a linguistic consultant and she's a literacy consultant. They travel a lot, both together and separately." (Excerpt from Cameroon journal.)

Since they not only travel, but move house a lot they don't weigh themselves down with a lot of possessions. The apartment they hosted us in was rented along with all the contents. The only things that were theres were the necessary personal items and a very few decorative items acquired during their stay there.

Wednesday, September 30th

"Today I got to help Deudonner finish the wall. He had me do one row of mortar but after that he had me just hand him blocks and keep him supplied...It was too high for me and he needed to get the wall done that day." (Excerpt from Cameroon journal.)

It was SO HOT that day. I think the only dry part of me was the last half inch on the tips of the bandanna around my neck.

"For dinner we had more African food. Several forms (3 to be exact) of njama-njama, fried plantains, boiled plantains, and boiled sweet potatoes." (Excerpt from Cameroon journal.)

Thursday, October 1st

Since Deudonner was off in his village negotiating a bride price I ended up back on the little tractor. I cut a new place to keep the gravel they use for concrete and finished up with the back hoe just as it sprung a leak. So, while Dad and Johannes tried to see if they could fix it, I finished up with a hand shovel. It was another extra hot day, so I took longer breaks than normal in the shade, keeping myself hydrated.

When I was done with my spot, I went to help Lendl. He looked as tired as I felt. I kept him supplied with dirt while he compressed it in the hole he was filling up by hand.

Our after dinner bonus was getting to see Lendl's pictures of where he lives in the Democratic Republic of the Congo. It's a beautiful country which looks quite run down from the civil war. There's some real need there.

Friday, October 2nd

It was our last day in Cameroon. Since I had a lot to do before leaving, I didn't go to work at the school site. Instead I did laundry. That was a little more stressful than I was hoping for since it was overcast and humid. While trying not to think about the laundry getting dry enough to pack, I sorted through things and started to pack them up. Throughout the day, people kept showing up with letters for me to post back in the States for them. I think I ended up with almost 300 pieces. They were good padding for the ceramics that I was taking back.

I kept checking on the laundry, turning it occasionally, trying to shorten the drying time. Finally, mid-afternoon, it was dry enough. You see, in Africa you don't want to take your laundry off the line too soon since if it isn't completely dry there are these little bugs that like to burrow into your skin and...you get the picture. One way to take care of that problem if your laundry won't dry is to iron it and I REALLY didn't want to have to iron everything.

After supper, we finished up the last of our packing and waited for Mickey to take us to the airport. I sat on the veranda for awhile to soak in the sounds and smells one last time. When he did come, there was another family in the van who were also going to the airport to return home to the States.

"When we pulled into the airport parking lot, a swarm of porteurs raced across the ground toward us. We grabbed our small things before opening the doors so that a porteur wouldn't grab them. They were a little disappointed with how little luggage there was for so many people."

We boarded our SM Brussels flight, and left Africa.

Saturday, October 3rd

We were home again. My sister and her family met us at the airport and it was so good to see them. I still had some Cameroonian money so I gave each of the kids a 1000 franc note.

"We collected our things from baggage claim and went out to the car. Brenda had some bread, cheese, sausage, and apple slices to munch on and Dad and I talked about our trip all the way home." (Excerpt from Cameroon journal.)

Cameroon: The Mbingo Weekend

2009-12-08T19:14:00.003-07:00

Friday, September 18th

“Got up, got ready, and we loaded into the van and headed out of Yaoundé for Mbingo...Mickey was wearing a Cameroonian football (soccer) team jersey which I complimented him on. He said he always wears it when he travels because it often helps with getting quickly through checkpoints if stopped. We managed to get out of Yaoundé without too much difficulty and cruised on a smooth paved road at high speeds.” (Excerpt from Cameroon journal.)

Oh, joy! We were going to Mbingo!

When I was six years old, we moved to Mbingo and lived there for four years. Four years may not seem long to many, but when you’re a missionary family, that can actually be a long time. Mbingo is one of the places that I count as home and I never thought I would ever get to go back to that beautiful place.

As we got closer and closer to Mbingo, the landscape became more and more familiar. When we got to Bamenda, I was truly almost home. As we climbed that road toward Mbingo Valley, Dad commented on how bad it had been when it was raining. Slippery and difficult even for a Land Rover. Now it’s paved.

“It all looked so very the same, yet so very different at the same time.” (Excerpt from Cameroon journal.)

As we came into the valley along that winding road, we could see the Big Waterfall off on the valley’s back “wall.” The same as it was before. However, we passed a grove of palm trees that hadn’t been there. The market was still where it had been, but now there were permanent cubicles for the vendors instead of just poles and grass roofs. The same sign announcing Mbingo Baptist Hospital stood where it always has, but the hospital has expanded to meet it rather than sitting back at a discreet distance.

After stopping for a key, we continued up the hill to the house we had lived in. The road up to it is as steep as ever.

“The house has changed so much. The yard is smaller. There is now a flower hedge not far from the house on the south side. You can’t even see where the carport was or the hill I learned to ride a bike on.” (Excerpt from Cameroon journal.)

I spent quite a bit of time investigating everything, remembering how it used to be and deciding how I felt about what it is now. Purely by chance, my bags were deposited with Nora’s in my old room.

What hasn’t changed is the magnificence of the view out toward the open end of the valley.

“About 4:30 or 5, Dad and I walked down the old path to the back of the hospital and through past Hiller’s old house and the one where Aunt Gigi and Aunt Myrna lived, over to Aunt Pat’s house.” (Excerpt from Cameroon journal.)

To missionary kids, all adults are Uncle or Auntie and that never changes. It was great to visit Auntie Pat in the same home that she lived in when we were there and where she taught me art.

Saturday, September 19th

“We all had a big breakfast around the table of pancakes, fried spam, and scrambled eggs.” (Excerpt from Cameroon journal.)

We set out to do some more sightseeing and shopping in the area.

“The first place we went was Presbook to their arts and crafts shop. ...After that we went to Bamenda market. That brought back a lot of memories...Barb and Nora had found some boiled groundnuts and some guavas. We headed out of Bamenda after that and took part of the Ring Road to the Ndop Plain to visit PresPot. We got a tour of the pottery works from one of the senior potters named Primus. He showed us where they pull the clay out of the ground during dry season, and the process they put it through to clean it for use. Then he threw a pot, showed us the kilns, and talked about their glazes.” (Excerpt from Cameroon journal.)

Sunday, September 20th

Sunday morning we went to church at Mbingo Baptist Church and discovered that there was going to be a wedding. The bridal car arrived just as we did with the best man, the head of the bride’s family, the groom, the bride, the maid of honor and the ring bearers and flower girls. There was a sign on the back that said “About to be wed.”

“The wedding was completely integrated into the service. During the first song was the processional. The groom and best man came in first followed by the flower girls and ring bearers. Then the bride and relatives came in. They were all seated up front during the singing for worship. We sang for a long time. I think the “solemnization” - wedding vows - were next, then the sermon from Malachi 2. Then the presentation of the gifts and more singing. Church started at 9:30 am and we were finally done at 12:30 pm.” (Excerpt from Cameroon journal.)

I wanted hike up towards the back valley. Not all the way, just up to the waterfalls. However, our time there was so full, I wasn’t sure I’d get to. It was going to have to be Sunday afternoon, but during lunch it started to rain. Hiking up a mountain in an Mbingo downpour on Mbingo slippery mud isn’t a good idea.

“Brian and Lendl talked about hiking in the rain and we talked them out of it. They were determined to go, so when the rain stopped, I went with them. We took the road up. It curves around and gives great views in all directions. We eventually came to the stream that feeds the Little Waterfall.” (Excerpt from Cameroon journal.)

We climbed up as far as the Big Waterfall even though it was going to make me late getting back for another dinner at Auntie Pat’s. It was worth it.

Monday, September 21st

“While they were packing up the kitchen, I went for one more look at the valley. I found myself crying. I suppose I was grieving for both goodbyes. This one and the one in 1977. Mbingo is one of the places I call home and didn’t know if I’d ever get a chance to return. Now part of me is afraid that this was the last time.” (Excerpt from Cameroon journal.)

We headed back to Yaoundé then.

Cameroon: Getting Into It For Real

2009-12-05T17:11:00.005-07:00

Wednesday, September 16th

The small tractor was fixed, so I was looking forward to not hammering nails. I had taken some pain killers in the morning so that I could get through the day with minimal troubles.

“Brian went back to hammering nails and Dad taught me how to use the smaller tractor to move sand piles. Soon I was on my own while he worked on the generator.” (Excerpt from Cameroon journal.)

I had fun learning to coordinate my hands so that the bucket operated smoothly. The hardest part was trying to pick up sand and get as close to the bottom of the pile as possible without scooping up dirt along with it. I'm afraid that the ground wasn't even close to level and I was highly unsuccessful in keeping the dirt out of the sand. However, I hope I didn't have too much contamination. At one point I disturbed a driver ant colony, so I worked in another area for awhile. The last thing I wanted was to have them attacking the tractor to get at me.

You laugh? You've never encountered driver ants then. You wouldn't laugh if you had!

"For supper we had real fufu. A lady brought the fufu in little bags along with njama-njama and properly cooked plantains. It was so good! I finished mine and then took the second half of Brian’s. And yes...I ate with my fingers.” (Excerpt from Cameroon journal.)

Talk about heaven. Real Cameroonian food using real palm oil. For those not in the know, njama-njama is like spinach, but has a more bitter taste. The reason I ate with my fingers is because that's how you eat fufu. In some areas they stipulate that you only use the first two fingers and you never eat with your left hand anywhere since that's the hand you use for unclean things. (Sorry lefties.)

The reason I took the second half of Brian's helping is not because I'm greedy or unfeeling. According to my husband, fufu is an acquired taste. The kind we had is made from cornmeal mixed quickly with boiling water and a little salt to a play-dough consistency. Bland is the word often used.

But think about it. Mashed potatoes are bland too and it's a matter of what you're accustomed to and what you eat it with. So I could hardly let good fufu go to waste. Brian had his taste and was fine with that, so I finished it off for him.

Thursday, September 17th

“We were joined by a newcomer named Lendl. He’s been working in the Democratic Republic of the Congo and decided to use his vacation time to visit Cameroon.” (Excerpt from Cameroon journal.)

We were expecting Lendl to join us and he had arrived late the night before, after I had already gone to bed. It was nice to have another addition to our little group. Since Dad and I had each other, Brian and Lendl were buddies.

“I drove the tractor again. Finished the sand pile as well as could be expected. Then I learned how to fill and compress a ditch.” (Excerpt from Cameroon journal.)

You'll notice that I've skipped a few days right here. That's because I've made it a different post. So you'll have to read the next one too. A little 101 Arabian Nights strategy for you.

Tuesday, September 22nd

“The men were already in the middle of putting up a rafter when we got there. The guys helped with the next one and sent me running for a camera. I sat and watched as they hoisted two more up then began sliding them into place and bracing them. At lunch time we were invited to join them for lunch and had fufu, njama-njama, and chicken.” (Excerpt from Cameroon journal.)

Wow! That was incredible to watch the guys putting up those rafters. I've had the privilege of watching a really good crane operator place I-beams on a construction site and it's like watching ballet. This raising of the rafters was all about brute strength and total teamwork instead. There were 20 men doing the lifting, 2 men on the roof with ropes, 2 at the other end on rafters already raised (also with ropes), a man on each wall, and one man directing it all.

They estimated that each rafter weighed about a ton and this is how it was done. First off, the job of the guy directing it all wasn't just to tell them how to do it, but to coordinate their efforts. So, when everyone was ready, they would bend over to prepare to lift. The director said, in a deep and booming voice, "Brrrujjay, brrrujjay, one time, Go!" At "go," they would all lift together.

First they would lift one end up onto the wall and push it far enough out to free the other end up. The other end would then be lifted up onto the opposite wall and they would all be standing holding the rafter in a flat position, ends on the walls, with boards. After nudging the rafter down next to the last one raised, they would switch to longer boards in order to raise it into a vertical position. Each effort was coordinated with the same cry from the director. "Brrrujay, brrrujay, one time, Go!"

When they had them all vertical together at one end, they began taking them one by one across. Each one positioned so that they were spaced correctly for the roof. In order to keep them vertical and move them at the same time, two men would hold long boards crossed for tension against one another.

After lunch I had to quit playing spectator/event recorder and get back to work.

“I moved sand and concrete blocks for the rest of the afternoon.” (Excerpt from Cameroon journal.)

Wednesday, September 23rd

“The guys finished installing the rafters and I moved a pile of gravel. It took me all day.” (Excerpt from Cameroon journal.)

Thursday, September 24th

“Today I did something different. It began to rain as soon as we got there, so we found different jobs. I started helping nail plywood onto the ceiling of one of the first buildings. The scaffolding was a little high for me so I had to hunch over a little bit. And it took 3 or 4 panels to figure out how to hammer up without bending most of the nails.” (Excerpt from Cameroon journal.)

It's quite different hammering nails on a ceiling when one is used to doing it facing the other direction. It didn't help that the hammer was a little too heavy for me as well. All the ones that have been donated to the project are for men. We ladies usually need something a little lighter. However, I made it work.

That evening I got to go shopping!

“An artisan brought his goods and Barb had him set up in an empty apartment. Carvings, paintings, jewelry, and such.” (Excerpt from Cameroon journal.)

He had some wonderful things and I was able to get a few gifts to take home as well as a little something for myself.

Cameroon: The First 5 Days

2009-11-17T17:16:00.017-07:00

Friday, September 11th
"We had ice cream over western Nigeria and northern Cameroon. Looking out the window I could see the sun glinting off of metal roofs. I watched as we transitioned from savannah to mountains, from yellow dirt to red, open spaces to forest. When we finally landed at Yaoundé it was the smoothest landing I had ever experienced." (Excerpt from Cameroon journal)

We were met at Nsimalen International Airport in Yaoundé by Mickey. He and his wife, Barb, take care of the volunteers who come to Cameroon through Wycliffe Associates and they do a really great job of it. They worked hard to make our accommodations in the city comfortable and safe and provided many chances to meet Cameroonians and see the country.

One of our teammates in this adventure was Brian and he arrived safely on Saturday. Our final teammate, Lendl arrived later in the week.

Sunday, September 13th
"They took us to church at Etoug-Ebe Baptist Church...The interesting part, to me, was the baby announcements. They announced as many births as deaths and the congregation really responded to that. With joy at the births and sadness at the deaths." (Excerpt from Cameroon journal)

Monday, September 14th
"...at about 7:15-7:30 we heard the voices of little children running past talking about the super hero status of one of their classmates. The Parent Run School for the elementary kids is next door and there is a connector gate in the wall." (Excerpt from Cameroon journal)

In the morning, we saw where the Rain Forest International School (RFIS) is currently set up and sharing space with the Summer Institute of Linguistics training facilities. Both are getting too big to share anymore and so the construction of a permanent home for the school has become a high priority.

"The RFIS compound is very large. One end is dominated by the soccer pitch. On the slopes at the other end is the school buildings area. They have 5 buildings in process. Various stages are represented. Two more buildings need to be completed but they need another $250,000 to do it." (Excerpt from Cameroon journal)

When we saw the RFIS site for the first time, we could see that it had been cut out of the jungle with walls not only for security, but for holding the forest back.

Tuesday, September 15th
"Paul said that the tractor needed reparing so I hammered nails in roof trusses all afternoon. I was having to go through 3 layers of hardwood and it seemed that the last layer was harder because the last inch on the nail was the most difficult. By 4 pm my right arm was in serious pain." (Excerpt from Cameroon journal)

I was relieved when Paul, the Wycliffe Associates construction administrator, set me up with the small tractor the next day. I can handle a manual transmission and a bucket or back hoe better than 4 inch nails in hardwood any day of the week.

Imagine...

2009-11-17T09:49:00.007-07:00

Close your eyes and imagine this...

You're getting ready to send your daughter off to international boarding school. You're sewing the little ribbon name tags into the back of each piece of clothing. You've taken the list provided by the hostel where she'll be living and gathered things like sheets, shampoo, toothbrush and toothpaste, towels and washcloths, book bag, and all the other things she'll need to be as self-sufficient as possible far from Mom and Dad. You've even cut her long, beautiful hair short so that she can take care of it by herself with the braid wrapped and stored as a keepsake. You send another prayer up that her visa comes in time since she's not only going away from home for school, she's going to a different country.

I'm having to imagine it myself since I'm speaking for my Mom. She is the one that can truly tell you what it's like to send your child off to another country to boarding school.

However, I can speak as the child since I was that child. Mom and Dad did a great job of making it an adventure. I felt very grown up to be going off by myself to school. I knew other kids who had already begun doing that, and at the time it was normal to start boarding school in 4th grade. Mom had home schooled me up to that point because Cameroon didn't have public schools that were good enough to keep me at the same level of education as my peers in the United States. Now it was time to do big girl things and go to school in Nigeria.

I have no children of my own, but even imagining my nieces and nephews being sent off at a very young age causes me fear. Would they be safe? Who can they go to if they get homesick or need help with their homework? Will they be okay? What happens if they have trouble in school with other kids or with their teacher?

So when I found out about the opportunity to go to Cameroon to help build the Rain Forest International School (RFIS) for missionary kids, I checked out their web site. Since it's a fact of life for a lot of missionary kids, I wanted to find out if they had goals and beliefs that would make the school the best it could be. It's important to me that when parents send their children away to school that it's safe and the child comes first. I liked what I saw and decided that I wanted to be a part of that.

So, I embarked on a journey; raising money to go and be a construction worker at the new school site. Thanks to God's grace and a lot of people who were generous both financially and with their prayers, I left for Cameroon on September 10th, 2009. And, lucky me, my Dad went with me.

Trip Journal

2009-11-16T11:35:00.007-07:00

Here it is, all the thoughts and things I collected on my Cameroon trip.

It's quite full. I have always hand bound my travel journals in the past, but there was no time this year. So I used blank Moleskine Cahiers for both my Uganda trip and this trip to Cameroon.

But it's still stewing and rolling around in my mind. Still very personal, although I'm working on that. It's full of photos I printed on my PoGo every day to accompany what I wrote and the other things that I collected.

Only one sketch, but a lot of other things like a leaf, water bottle labels, tickets, brochures, and all sorts of other bits and pieces glued in that help tell the story. I wish I'd had more time for sketching but it seemed that the only time I was sitting still long enough it was always back at the Wycliffe Associates volunteer compound at the end of the day and I was just too tired.

But don't give up on me. I'll get it sorted out and posted sometime soon.

Going Back

2009-10-29T18:52:00.004-07:00

I've been back from Cameroon for almost a month now and I'm still trying to put things into order in my mind. I went to be a construction worker. I did that, I feel we accomplished a lot, I really believe in what we did............but I can't stop thinking about Mbingo.

We moved to Mbingo when I was six years old and lived there until I was ten. This is the house we lived in as it looks now. A little different but still very much the same in many ways.

I went to on this trip with my Dad and so it was extra special to return to our old home for a couple of days in the middle of our three weeks there. As we climbed into the mountains of the Northwest Province, the temperature got cooler and the scenery got more dramatic and lush. When we got to the house we all went out to the edge of the yard almost immediately.

Our old house is at the back of the valley and on a ledge half way up the mountain side. The view is just as incredible as it ever was. It draws you to it. You can't help but go to that edge and look out, just standing and soaking it in.

As I've sorted through my thoughts and feelings, I've been trying to track down the real heart of the matter for me.

I remember standing on the edge of that yard many times, looking out, watching the people below go about their business. It's where I learned, watching a man cut wood with an ax, about the speed of light compared to the speed of sound. I watched the MAF plane land on the airstrip with people running toward it across the valley. I watched a lot of beautiful sunsets and the creep and flow of clouds from the mouth of the valley, up over our house, and then over the mountains.

But what I think affected me the most were the trees. The tall, beautiful Eucalyptus trees. They stand in a thick grove north and west of the house and line the road up the hill, framing Mbingo Hill looking back.

I've always loved walking in the woods, especially when the trees are tall and have that soft rustling sound going. Now I know why. I spent a lot of time in those trees.

It really was "going home" even with all the changes that have taken place since I was ten. I love that place and it was incredibly therapeutic to be there. I cried when we left.

Meeting Michael

2009-08-31T16:27:00.005-07:00

Meeting our sponsored children was turned into a game. The sponsors were lined up on one side of the lawn and the children on the other. They were told to see if they could find their sponsors on their own. Our sponsored child is named Richard Michael (he prefers Michael) and he struck out the first time, trying another couple first. But he managed to find us on the second try with a little of our help.

A pang of guilt went through me at that. As a matter of fact, it still does. I should have been sending him new pictures of us every year. It had been a couple years since I had sent the last one and we were all bundled up in our winter gear. The poor kid didn't stand a chance.

We gave him the soccer ball we had brought and I took a picture of him holding it with my husband kneeling beside him. Both faces show anticipation with a little uncertainty. I think it took Michael a few minutes to understand that the ball was his to keep. When he did, he got very possessive of it.

Throughout the day we got to know each other better and became more relaxed. With the assistance of a translator, we asked and answered questions of each other. He learned that we have no children and we learned that he liked being our "son."

Lunch was interesting. He wasn't eating his chicken and when asked why, he responded that it wasn't salty enough. So my husband introduced him to the salt shaker. After applying enough salt to clog the arteries by just watching him, he ate his chicken right down to the marrow. He's got strong teeth.

We kicked his ball around before and after lunch, giving him a chance to show off his moves and me a chance to impress my husband. I hadn't played soccer since I was a year older than Michael. Later we took a boat ride on Lake Victoria and went swimming in the wading pool upon our return.

When it came time to give him his gifts we found a quiet spot under a tree in the garden. At first he was very formal but as he opened the first gift, the smiles came. In the package were some lead pencils, colored pencils, a sharpener, and two pink erasers. For some reason, the pink erasers were of particular interest to him and he was overwhelmed. That would have been enough, but being Americans, we had more. So out came the rest...a small sketch book, some matchbox construction trucks, and a pump for his ball. Finally, we gave him a shoulder bag to put it all in.

We gathered his things and put them in the bag to go back to our meeting area. He slung it on his shoulder and carried his ball. My husband and our translator, Wycliffe, walked on ahead while I lagged behind with Michael. He suddenly stopped and was trying to put his ball in the bag. I stopped too and helped by holding it open. The ball fit perfectly! We continued walking and suddenly he grabbed my arm, squeezed it close, and squealed! He was excited! That was the peak of the day for me. That we could give him such excitement over something so small as a soccer ball, pink erasers, and a bag to put them in.

The rest of our time was spent kicking his ball around and soon it was time to go. Quickly gathering together for a last minute group portrait of all the sponsors and children, my husband and I sat on the ground with Michael behind us. He placed his hands on our heads as if to claim us as his own.

As all of the kids and their translators climbed onto the bus, there was a lot of hugging and tears. But goodbyes have been a constant and normal part of my life, so aren't so emotional. All I required was one final acknowledgment after he was on the bus. He did that, reaching up, searching us out, and waving with a big smile on his face.

Dancing, Mosquito Nets, Bore Holes, and Rain

2009-08-13T20:08:00.010-07:00

The second half of our stay in Uganda was in the north. That was when we visited the project that probably had the biggest impact on us.

From the town where we stayed in the north, it was about a two hour drive. When our bus was just outside of the town we were headed to, we were met on the road by a large group. They were mostly women with a few men waving branches, playing instruments, singing, ululating, and dancing. They continued that way, slowly leading the bus toward the town. On the edge of town we were met by a second group of more women who joined the first, leading the bus in, around the roundabout, and up the road past the school and to the project. When we were almost there, our driver stopped the bus and most of us got out to join them, dancing the rest of the way and up to the church. There we were surrounded and greeted by another large group of women, the moms and grandmas of the children assisted by Compassion International. There was a lot more ululating and pressing of hands, Ugandan fashion, as the pastor and project workers directed us to our seats.

The church is an open building designed to provide shelter from sun and rain while maximizing the effect of cool breezes. As we sat during introductions, I noticed the large quantity of holes in the front wall. Most had been patched and some further down and around the edges had not. It occurred to me that they might be damage from bullets. I saw more, unpatched, in the walls of classrooms we visited later. What reinforced my opinion (I never confirmed it with anyone) was what the pastor told us. "You are safe here."

After introductions and reports from the staff was the dancing. And what incredible dancing it was. The first group of ladies came in singing and dancing with incredible expression in their movements that captured the emotion of the words in their songs. On their last song we got to stand up and join them. It was hard to keep up in spite of how simple it looked. They kind of shuffle, stomp, and jump, but the rhythm was fairly complex and so it was hard to tell when to do what. Besides, it was exhausting. A real cardiovascular workout.

The second group of ladies were much more sedate in their singing and dancing. The third group was even more energetic than the first. All lacked the self-consciousness or sexual connotation which is so often present in Western dancing.

I think the most powerful part of the day was the home visits and project tour.

"This village was part of the turmoil created by the Lord's Resistance Army. It was a refugee camp for awhile and most of the kids in the project were born in the bush (in hiding). There was no school until the project was started a year or two ago."

"As our group assembled around the pastor, he was talking to the co-leader of our tour. He said that many non-governmental organizations have been there to help them over time, but they all had a lot of corruption and came, did their thing, and left. They chose to ask Compassion to come help them start a program because of the lack of corruption and they felt that what Compassion had to offer would actually be of help to them."

"We were taken to three home visits and the bore hole. The homes were all small mud huts with mosquito nets and three people living in them. The first two were thatched and were quite cool, the last was roofed with tin and was hot. All the mosquito nets we saw were given to them by Compassion. We ended at the bore hole. There is another one down the road by the school, but it doesn't work very well most of the time. It's solar with too many parts to maintain in such a remote place. The pastor said the land for the new pump was donated and would not have been if anyone else had come to install it. It's one that uses a hand lever and works as long as the person using it is able. Some little girls were operating it when we were there. The 7 or 8 year old was pumping, jumping, and laughing as she did it while a younger girl used the water to wash herself, scrubbing her feet on the concrete."
(Excerpts from Ugandan journal.)

There is a drought in Uganda and so a reliable well that provides clean water is critical to this community. Both the mosquito nets and the well have reduced the amount of sickness that is experienced there. Such small things make such a huge difference.

We were told, when we got there, that it hadn't rained for some time. I know that I was not the only one quietly praying for rain that day and watching the sky as it turned gray with clouds. When we all gathered together before leaving, our tour leader asked me to pray to close out our time. Just as I finished, the clouds began to release their precious treasure... and it rained.

This is a hotel, but a typical structure for homes.

Look, Feel, Taste and Smell

2009-08-10T21:08:00.017-07:00

Landscape

My points of reference for observing the Ugandan landscape was Cameroon and Nigeria.

Kampala region was reminiscent of Cameroon. the dirt was very red and staining and the vegetation was lush and entangled. What I didn't see was a lot of organized farms. There were small-space gardens in odd available spaces all over the city, but outside of the city didn't really seem any more organized. It wasn't until we got further north that farms seemed more intentional.

The houses were different from Cameroon and Nigeria in interesting ways. The only ones with mud brick and grass roofs belonged to the poorest. The next step up from that was mud brick with corrugated metal roofs. From there they upgraded to baked bricks with concrete mortar and corrugated metal roofs. We saw men making bricks from clay and it appeared that people would order clay bricks to be made and stacked in their yards. The base of the stack always had two tunnels and they would plaster the side of it with mud. That done, smoldering fires were started in the tunnels and the clay bricks were baked. After the baking, the pile was uncovered and construction could begin. Building of anything so expensive is done on a pay-as-you-go basis. So it can take a very long time to build a house or a store. The houses usually had verandas on the front and the businesses had tall flat fronts to create a high place for signage.

The northern region seemed more reminiscent of Nigeria. The dirt was lighter and grayer and, consequently, so are the bricks and homes. That was also where we saw a whole lot more mud huts with thick grass roofs. The vegetation was drier and at one point I saw a lot of elephant grass. The whole area was transitioning to savanah. We saw baboons, gray monkeys, a black and white monkey, and a lot of typical, long horn cattle. At the furthest extreme, the cattle seemed to be a shorter horned variety.

The variety of palms all over, was really interesting. Some of them were familiar (coconut and raffia) and others were ones that I had only seen in botanical gardens or photographs.

There were some very unusual trees that we called "Dr. Seus" trees due to the way the foliage formed puff-balls at the tips of the branches. One of the things I particularly enjoyed was walking past the hibiscus bushes at night. Their scent was very intoxicating then. There was a fair amount of bougainvilla around as well. One of the smells that seemed very much in place was the smell of burning. The scent of the smoke was always present in Kampala.

One thing I don't miss about the trip was the constant attack of mosquitoes. Since one cannot keep clean in Africa, it is best to bathe at night before bed. When possible, we did so just before dinner since we usually ate quite late. So, it was necessary to thoroughly cover up with clothing as I couldn't stand the thought of sleeping in bug repellent.

Food

Meals were always interesting.

We ate breakfast at 7 am most days and at the resort it was a buffet from which I usually chose fried plantains, fresh pineapple, fresh passion fruit, hard boiled eggs, homemade yogurt, and lassi. I washed it all down with hot tea with milk and sugar.

"Tea" was served at noon and it varied a little depending on what was offered: water, milk cookies, bananas, fresh ground nuts, and cookies.

Lunch was usually at 2 to 2:30 pm and usually had most of, if not all of, the following: water, rice, Irish potatoes, matoke, ground nut sauce, chicken, lamb (goat), soup (sauce), groundnut sauce, pineapple, and bananas. Some offered soft drinks as well such as Fanta, Krest, and Coke. All with sugar, of course.

Supper was always late, about 7:30 or 8 pm. We often didn't finish until 9 or 9:30 since the service was leisurely, allowing for proper conversation and digestion of our food. The chef at the resort was Indian, so the cuisine was what I call Ugandan-Indian fusion. When we stayed at the hotel in Lira, the food was Ugandan all the way.

The one food we had which was not generally offered at our meals was the avocados given to us by a woman at the first child development center we visited. Our tour leader would cut them up as they ripened and put them on a plate to pass around at our evening meal. They were huge and very sweet. My one food regret is that we never got any guavas. They were out of season along with the mangoes.

People

One of the things that struck me about the people was, in particular, the women. We wore skirts since we were going into very traditional environments, but we did see a few women wearing pants in the city. It also was not at all uncommon to see women drivers in their own vehicles, usually small personal cars.

The common way of greeting was to softly take the hand of the visitor in both hands and slide off. Women often added a slight curtsey. Men had a funny little grasp and shake that was firmer and made me think of secret handshakes and brotherhoods. They were all soft spoken and I had to pay attention very closely to hear anyting at all some times.

When we went to the projects, we could always tell the project children from the rest. They all had uniforms that seemed to be school uniform bottoms (shorts or skirts) and usually t-shirts with a saying or verse on the back. And so, when we would drive up to a project, we were always greeted by an array of bright colors, usually red, blue, green, or yellow.

The Ugandan women had an interesting traditional dress that I never quite finished figuring out. The wrap skirt was pleated so that the bottom was wider than the top, but I couldn't see how. The top was quite elaborate with mid-length sleeves which were magnificently peaked at the shoulders. The neckline was square, buttoning closed on the left side. The fabric of the lower half continued on around the waist to be loosely secured by a sash with the excess shirt fabric draped over it. The men we encountered simply wore dress pants, dress shirts, and a tie if they owned one. Naturally, most everyone we were introduced to were dressed in their very best clothes.

Hope and a Future

2009-08-06T19:42:00.004-07:00

Compassion International does the full spectrum. Starting with the Child Survival Program to assist moms and their babies, the core Child Development Program for school age kids, and finally the Leadership Development Program to send the exceptional students to university. In the developing world a university degree guarantees a job, thus ending the cycle of poverty. We met a lot of the graduates from the Child Development Program who went or were going to university not only to get a job and end their family cycle of poverty, but to go back to their communities to help those still in it. They are amazing!

"We drove to Uganda Christian University and met several LDP students. We met in a room in the chapel building. A representative of the university talked and then the Compassion staff person. She introduced all the students to us and had 5 speak about their testimony. When they were done, they each took 1-3 people from our group on a short tour of campus. It was a student named Yvette who took us around. She showed us the cafeteria, laundry area, dorms, some of the buildings with classrooms, the soccer field, and the library. It was fun to talk to her and exchange questions about college, our countries, and ourselves. Everyone met up at the beautiful fountain by the entrance gate and we took pictures of everyone. They have about 7000 students on campus and about 153 of them are LDP students." (Excerpt from Uganda journal.)

Home Visit

2009-08-06T19:26:00.001-07:00

On day two of our stay in Uganda we visited a Compassion International child development center outside of Kampala. Part of our visit included splitting up into smaller groups to visit homes of some of the children. It was an opportunity for us to see what real, extreme poverty is and the people we visited were honored to have us come. It was a humbling experience.

"We were taken on home visits. Our home was a woman with 5 kids, although not all lived with her. She was a squatter when her house was torn down because the land had been sold. However, the land owner chose to give her a small piece of the land that was next to her sister's. So she and her children are living with her sister while she builds her house. Since she can only build as she has money, it's taking months to complete.

The picture above shows her with her grandson (her daughter is 15) peeling a matoke banana." (Excerpt from Uganda journal.)

Adrenalin Rush

2009-08-04T20:16:00.003-07:00

Our first afternoon in Kampala was spent at a Compassion International Child Survival Program.

"We were greeted as we got off the bus by several women who were introduced to us in the church as staff or volunteers at the church for the CSP program. Inside we sang with the women and their babies, heard testimony from two of the women, and got reports from the overseer and the program facilitator. We were shown case files of several women to illustrate how the program works to monitor the health of both mom and baby. They showed us the beautiful woven mats, bags, and baskets, paper bead jewelry, and crocheted items that they make to sell. Then we split up and half of us spent time with the crafters learning to make the paper beads and the other half went to the play room. Then we switched. When everyone loaded on the bus for the home visits, Paul and I stayed so that I could teach the crafters to make yarn and crochet bags our of old plastic bags." (Excerpt from Uganda journal)

Teaching the craft at the CSP project has a place in my heart of special importance. I saw it on Ravelry, learned how to make the plastic yarn (plarn) from grocery bags and found a great pattern to try. I immediately realized the potential for this as an income generating craft for CSP moms. I was actually that specific in my thoughts. Problem was, how to get it to them. I didn't know who to talk to or even how we would transmit the information from here to all the CSP projects around the world. I hadn't figured it out yet when I was approached by our Uganda tour guide. She knew we would be visiting a CSP project on our very first day in Kampala and asked if I would be bringing along my plastic bag as a craft to teach. She guaranteed that I would have the chance to teach it, so I packed the bag I had made, a ball of prepared plarn, my one N crochet hook, and 4 or 5 plastic grocery bags.

While the others were off on home visits, I got to teach. As soon as I pulled the crocheted bag out of my backpack, the women swarmed around me. I pulled out the bags, hook, plarn, and my multi-tool and sent the sample bag passing from woman to woman. They had a couple pairs of scissors as well, so I showed them how to cut up the bags. We passed out the pieces so that everyone could have an opportunity to learn how to connect the loops. Once everyone was caught up on that part of the process, I took the sample bag and showed them, using basic English and turn-talk (translation into Luganda) to explain that the bag was crocheted from the center-bottom up. I then demonstrated how to make the chain with the women watching me very closely. Then I gave it ot one of the women sitting beside me to finish the chain. When it was a good length, I took it back and demonstrated the single crochet along the chain, the increases on the end, and the return on the other side. I kept handing it off to the two ladies sitting beside me (with the others watching closely) as I went. Once we were done with the first row, I handed it off entirely and simply followed as the first woman taught the second, who taught the third...and so on. I simply offered corrections and demonstrations as needed along the way. By the time we had to stop, at least seven women had learned by working on it and we had about two inches of a bag started. Then the matter of getting more hooks arose. One of the women took a look at mine and declared that they could make them. She looked at me and I knew her unspoken question...I told her that they could keep my hook. Not only that, I made a promise. I would purchase some when I got home and send them back with a woman from the local office when she came to visit in a few weeks. They promptly informed me they would need forty of them.

I was so stoked after that one hour! That is what I love and want to do. How do I get more?

So I'm back here in the States working to keep my promise of getting forty, size N crochet hooks back to the CSP moms I met that day. I will not let them down.

Home again...or not. Back from Uganda

2009-08-04T20:05:00.004-07:00

It's been 12 days since I was in Uganda and now I think that I'm finally "back." It takes a while for the body to readjust to the time change, food, culture... When people ask, I tell them that it's been like readjusting to a foreign country. I'm not joking. It really is.

When we landed at Entebbe on July 13th, we made our way through customs, got things loaded up into the bus and van, and Joseph drove us north to Kampala, through the city and to our hotel. I just sat there and took it all in. The sites, the smells, the colors, the people.

Being the self analyzing type, I checked up on myself about half way. What was I thinking and feeling? After running my self-diagnostic I realized that I felt normal. Really normal. It was the first time I'd felt normal in a very long time. I was home.

When we finally arrived at our hotel, the jolt of it kind of made me mad. I wasn't done absorbing.

Books on Africa

2009-07-03T19:00:00.001-07:00

Why is it that 99% of books on Africa in bookstores are about war and colonialism? It's no wonder people in The States have such a sckewed and negative idea about Africa. How do we fix that?

New Projects

2009-06-30T12:14:00.005-07:00

I've been doing a lot of crocheting. I was doing a lot of spinning and some sewing, too. But mostly I've been interested in crochet as a creative outlet.

I've given in to my love for bags completely. Why do other things, when bags are what I really love? I'm not just making them though, I'm creating them.

I've just finished crocheting a purse from a purple Alpaca/Peruvian wool blend and an orange Mohair/wool blend. I love tapestry crochet and so when I saw some German embroidery patterns, I knew they would work well for this bag. I sketched them out on graph paper and went for it.

I definitely need to sew in a lining. Not only to add pockets for functionality, but to add structure. The fabric stretches a lot.

I used the mohair to give a textural contrast to the smoother alpaca, but it took a lot of patience to work with. If you've ever knitted or crocheted with mohair you know that a looser stitch is better and that you don't want to make a mistake because it's really difficult to rip out if you do. Well imagine what it's like to try and make a snug stitch with mohair. However, I'm glad I did it. It turned out as well as I had hoped and adds dimension to the design.

I made a strap that is adjustable. Since I knew it would stretch, I didn't want to end up with a strap that was too short or too long. So I did an strap that is only attached at one end. On the other side of the top of the purse is a loop that I ran the end of the strap through and tied it once. As the strap has stretched, I've shortened it a bit.

I've just started a back pack. It's also tapestry crochet, but from a nice silky cotton. Who wants to wear a wool back pack in summer?

When I did the initial idea sketch in my notebook I could see, in my mind's eye, a lizard running across the bottom. So I found some photos of lizards for reference, sketched it out on top of a graph (left in the photo) and converted it to the grid. I then transferred it to Carol Ventura's right leaning crochet graph and added some crosses for a more dynamic composition. The cross idea came from some Zimbabwe throw pillows I had seen a few weeks ago.

I'll post more as I get it done.

Count Down to Uganda

2009-06-22T12:32:00.003-07:00

It's only 19 days until we leave for Uganda.

The days are flying by. With family coming over 4th of July weekend and then camping, we've got to have everything mostly ready to go by this weekend.

The next thing to do will be to purchase the last few things, finish putting the capri conversion laces on my new pants, lay everything out that we plan on taking and divvying it all up between our carry-on baggage and our checked baggage.

It's going to be an adventure!

Dish Cloths

2009-06-11T21:45:00.004-07:00

Last year I knitted a bunch of cotton dish cloths for a craft sale. They were a hit and I sold all of them. I wanted to do more this year, but didn't want them to take so long. Liking the knit style more than the typical crocheted versions, I decided to try using Afghan crochet. The resulting dish cloths have many of the same desirable qualities of the knit ones, but work up a lot faster. I can do one in 45 minutes versus 3 hours.

Materials: One skein of Lily N'Creme Cotton in your preferred color. One 95 yard skein should make two dish cloths.

Hook: J afghan hook

Finished product should be approximately 8.5”x8.5”.
Gauge is about 14 sts wide by 9-10 rows high for a 4”x4” swatch.

Ch 29.
Pick up 28 loops all the way across starting with second ch from hook. You should have 29 loops when you’re done (loop on end of ch counts as 1).
Work Afghan stitch for 21 rows. Tie off and weave in ends.

When I do the Afghan stitch for this, I’m picking up my loops by going through the front loop of yarn in the horizontal part of the stitch instead of through the vertical part of the stitch as shown in the tutorial. I skip the first horizontal since I have the ending loop already on my hook. I pick up the last loop in the last vertical stitch on the left end of the row. This helps keep it from curling as much as it does if I pick up the loops through the vertical part of the stitch.

Afghan stitch is also called Tunisian Crochet or Tunisian Knit Stitch.

Dream: Crossing the Equator

2009-06-01T10:15:00.003-07:00

One of my life dreams has been to cross the Equator. It would be a shame to come so close and never achieve it.

I lived just north of it for 6 years of my life. For four years I was in Cameroon, which shares part of its border with Gabon. The Equator runs through Gabon. Then we moved a little further north into Nigeria.

The question is whether my husband and I will manage to do it in July. We're going to Uganda and there is a possibility that we could cross it while in the air depending on how we are required to come into the airport at Entebbe . Whether we cross it on the ground will depend on the planned itinerary.

I'm crossing my fingers and toes.

On the Edge of an Adventure

2009-05-19T13:07:00.005-07:00

Soon we'll be in Uganda. ...Okay, it's still 52 days away, but time flies by.

We'll be visiting our Compassion International sponsored child Richard Michael and we're really excited.

First and foremost, we're excited about seeing Richard Michael. We've sponsored him for 5 1/2 years and from his pictures we can see that he has grown so much. From his letters, he seems a quiet, formal boy, but I wonder. I'm looking forward to seeing and talking to him in person. Seeing what he's like when he lets his guard down. I think we saw an inkling of it in a photo we got after Christmas one year. It shows him sitting at a table in brand new clothes and a chicken and rice feast that our $15 Christmas gift had helped buy. It's amazing how far $15 will go!

For me it is a return to Africa after a long "exile." Even though it's a country I've never been to, I still anticipate a sense of returning home. For my husband it will be his first foray into the developing world and I know he's excited for the new experience. Since this trip is a tour put on for sponsors wanting to meet their sponsored children, it's arranged to be as safe (especially for the stomach) and as saturated as possible in what Compassion International does and how being a sponsor can really make a difference.

Uganda, for those of you who don't know, is in East Africa, right next door to Kenya. More posts to come.

Travel Packing

2009-05-05T14:47:00.005-07:00

With an upcoming trip (July) to Uganda to visit our sponsored child, I'm obsessing about my packing list.

I like to look at lists people post in blogs since there are many of us who obsess about packing as lightly as possible. One of the things that I've noticed is that 99% of the lists I see are guys on short business trips. Occasionally I'll see a posting about a woman's light packing, but rarely will there be a list.

Perhaps, because women often require a little more on their packing list, they might feel a little self conscious. For those of you who don't know why, women's packing lists can be a little longer for a few reasons. One reason is that social acceptance requires some level of style in the form of hair, make-up, and clothing that is often higher maintenance than for men.
~Women's hairstyles are usually more maintenance than most men's. I have personally gone quite short, but still need it longer on top to prevent a military recruit look.
~If you have blond eyelashes like I do, it's almost mandatory to wear mascara.
~For a woman on a business trip the "nice looking" travel pants and shirts a lot of men can get away with just aren't acceptable attire.

Since this list is for a trip to a non-Western country, where hotel freebies and drugstore shopping are not to be counted on, it is more extensive than if I were going to Europe. We will be traveling for 14 days, so we'll be doing laundry. In addition, I've tried to keep my attire at a socially acceptable level for Ugandan culture. Not paying attention to this is a mistake a lot of people make.

Clothing:
Dress Shirt, long-sleeved shirt, short sleeved shirts (4), wrap (for warmth), bras (2), undies (5), nylon pants that button up to capri length, nylon skirt (reversible), Crocs, socks (2), swim suit (for waterpark with kids), Merrill sandals, Wallaroo Hat, sleeping attire, arch Supports (to keep the feet happy).

Toiletries:
Facial care: minimum required to keep acne away.
Makeup: mascara and eyeliner
Tools: mascara comb (I want to prevent the Tammy Faye Baker look), nail clippers, toothbrush, comb, razor
Other: Soap, sunscreen, insect repellent, tylenol, lotion, shampoo, toothpaste, malaria pills, deoderant, prescription meds, Pepto Bismal, Imodium tablets, small first aid kit

Accessories:
Umbrella (packs smaller and more effective than jacket), sunglasses, travel clock, sewing kit and safety pins, laundry soap and sink stopper, iPhone, personal snacks, camera w/extra batteries, clothesline, LED light, water bottle, travel tournal/pen/pencil, passport, neck pouch.

Gifts for our sponsored child:
TBD: toothbrushes, matchbox cars...small, light, stuff.

Service project items:
2 packages of construction paper
4 lrg boxes of crayons
12-16 glue sticks
12 small children's scissors
2 tablets of drawing paper
Lots of stickers

Extras if I have room:
Book for the plane ride.
Pogo printer, cord, and paper for the travel journal

Since all of this will not fit in my carry-on bag, we will have to have a checked bag. However, that will free up space for souvenirs. I'll let you know how it goes.

My carry-on bag weighs less than a pound, so I'm going to see how full I can get it and weigh it. I like to stay under 12 lbs. I will also take a day bag for carrying the camera, snacks, waterbottle, and other things we will need during the day. I plan on packing that in my main bag and only using it once we get there.

Stay tuned.

Fear

2009-04-26T20:35:00.001-07:00

Think of fear like alcohol. It impairs judgement. You shouldn't make any decisions while under it's influence. -from "Iconoclast" by Gregory Berns

Growth Required

2009-04-24T15:30:00.001-07:00

But when things start to plateau in any area of my life, even if it’s a contented sort of plateau, I do not remain happy for long. I need constant growth or I get bored. In my mind, something ceases to be worth doing when there is no more growth in it. I couldn’t bring myself to continue at a gallop pace doing the same thing every day. If you can coast along happily I do envy you. For the rest of us, you know what I’m talking about.

~Joel Falconer

Earth Day and World Malaria Day

2009-04-21T13:17:00.003-07:00

Did you know that what you consume and how you dispose of it directly affects people in developing nations? People in the U.S., on average, have the largest carbon footprint in the world. For example, 80% of the paper consumed in the U.S. comes from outside it's borders. Paper!

Did you know that very little of our plastic that we so faithfully put into our recycle bins gets processed in the U.S.? It gets sold off shore where there are no government restrictions to make sure that it's done safely and without harming both the environment or the people who live there.

Did you know that plastic bags cost thousands of dollars to recycle material that is only worth a few dollars when the recycled product is done? So instead of being recycled, they go into landfills, get caught on trees, end up in the sewer and washed into waterways clogging harbors and eventually joining a large mass of them in the Arctic ocean near Spitzbergen. Even worse, as they degrade, they become more and more toxic.

So this Earth Day on April 22nd, think about reducing your carbon foot print by reducing your paper and plastic bag use. You can figure it out. Get creative!

Another important day this week is World Malaria Day on April 25th. Malaria is 100% preventable and it kills more kids in Africa than AIDS. 75% of those who die from malaria in Africa are kids under the age of 5. So let's do something about it!

Jordan Foxworthy learned about malaria on a family trip to Africa as well as how simple it is to prevent it. She realized that even though she was only a teenager, she could do something about it. So, she is, and she's asking all of us to participate. Go here to learn more about malaria, watch the videos, and bite back by buying a net.

Got a POGO Printer

2009-04-18T12:03:00.001-07:00

I just got a POGO printer. Now it's time to play! I'm hoping it will work well for travel journaling.

Recycling Crafts: Making bags From Grocery Bags and Old Towels

2009-04-15T10:16:00.006-07:00

I've been doing an investigation of recycling crafts and find that most stuff is not up to my standards. Some of it takes junk and makes junk. Some of it, I'm just not interested in. But I have run across an idea that I like and has me making and thinking.

I ran across this pattern for a bag crocheted from plarn. Plarn is yarn made from plastic grocery bags. I lost the printout I had, so mine doesn't look like the pattern but is still quite functional and has motivated me to collect grocery bags that my friends have collected and don't know what to do with since they started using reusable bags.

So I've been trying to look at stuff or trash and try to think of a reuse.

I have some old towels that I haven't thrown out because I've been trying to figure out how to reuse them. The fabric is good, but the dye has leached out in places and there are snags everywhere. So I thought I'd try turning it into yarn to make into a bag as well.

It's working. I cut off the seams on both ends and then started to cut a 1/4" strip but left the last 1/4" from the edge uncut. Then I started cutting from that edge and what I have is a zig zag of 1/4" wide terry cloth yarn. (Tarn?)

I grabbed my size P hook and have begun crocheting it into a bag. My guess is that one towel will make one bag. I'll post a link or photo when I'm done.

If you decide to try this, do it someplace easy to clean up. The terry cloth loops that get cut end up all over the place. In addition, please note that this is hard on the hands. Just cutting the heavy terry cloth (they were quality towels) was a strain, but so is the crocheting.

If you're a germaphobe...don't read this post.

2009-04-13T12:24:00.009-07:00

When I was growing up in Africa, we didn't have facial tissues. We had handkerchiefs. I do remember references to "dirty old rags" and things like that; but most of the time, they weren't that bad.

I've always had a fascination for the "lost" art of handwork on linens. Doilies, table clothes, dresser scarfs, handkerchiefs... So I have started looking for great examples in good condition at antique stores and shows. One thing I've collected quite a few of are in the handkerchief category. I've even embellished a couple of them myself.

Then, the other day as I was reaching for another facial tissue, it came to me. I've thrown a lot of those in my trash. I started thinking about all those nice handkerchiefs I have and realized that I didn't remember them being so bad for every day. You grab a new one in the morning and throw it in the laundry at the end of the day.

So I dug out a few handkerchiefs and have begun using them every day. So far, it's working very well. I still have the paper ones handy and will probably not get rid of them entirely. But not only can I reduce waste, but I'm looking forward to making a few new ones to add to my stash.

Africa

2009-04-06T13:34:00.003-07:00

If you've read my blog for any amount of time, one of the things you might have picked up on is my interest in Africa. Or maybe it's not as obvious as I might think it is. Any hoo...it's going to become a lot more evident.

At one point I was actively going to school in order to apply to graduate school and study African art history. I still do, but due to life's unfortunate turnings I've had to put that dream aside (at least for now). After a period of disappointment and grieving, I'm coming out the other end and picking up my interest in a new way.

My long neglected reading list includes a lot of African history. Art is affected by historical events and circumstances, so I feel I need to learn as much as I can about African history and archaeology. I would like to post reviews or summaries on some of the books I read.

I have two trips to Africa planned this year. The first is to Uganda where we will get to meet our sponsored child. The second is to assist at a construction project at Rain Forest International School in Cameroon. I'm going to do posts starting with the preparations and following through with the post-trip reflections. If able, I will try to do posts during each trip, but internet connectivity can be sketchy there.

I want a PoGo printer

2009-02-24T22:52:00.005-07:00

I've discovered Polaroid's answer to digital. The PoGo printer. And I want one. Bad.

I'm taking a trip to Uganda in July and it looks like this printer could be a nice way of adding photos to my travel journal during the trip.

This Flickr site shows some of the fun and creative things people are doing with their PoGo printers.

Based on the reviews I've read, if you're a techno geek who looks for true colors and perfect pixels, forget it. If you're the creative type who likes to have a bit of fun, go for it. I fall into the second category and I'll let you know what I think if I can get my hands on one. Gotta save the pennies.

The two criticisms I've seen consistently is a short battery life the fact that it doesn't work with iPhones. Apple, get with it!!!

Resolution Progress

2009-02-17T15:43:00.004-07:00

In an earlier post I talked about some goals/resolutions for the year. Here's a little update to keep me accountable.

My studio is rearranged, but still in disarray. I have too many UFOs (UnFinished Projects). So I need to work on those and get them out of the way so that I have room for the things I haven't begun yet.

I have finished the painting, building, and installation of the storage cabinet I bought. I'm still working on filling it. It's full, but some of the containers need labeling and organizing.

I have purchased the stain and 9 of the legs for my new work tables and desk. I'm purchasing the parts as I have money.

I've purchased new outlet covers to stain and install when I've got other things out of the way.

And it's only February!

Schematics

2009-02-09T19:07:00.002-07:00

I've figured out how to cut all three new tabletops for my studio from one sheet of plywood. Now to draw the construction details.

What Makes It All Worth It?

2009-01-25T12:38:00.003-07:00

"If you can change the life of just one person, life is worth living."
-Al Pitman

Green? Really?

2009-01-09T14:07:00.005-07:00

One of the things that concerns me about the "go green" push is the "bandwagon" mentality I'm seeing. Or even, "if so-and-so says it's true, it must be true" type of attitude.

My company is trying to become more sustainable and green, so the"green" team has been doing research into what we can do. What we're finding is a lot of assumptions along with the smoke-and-mirrors. Frankly, it's very disappointing.

1. Plastic: We can't find anyone who can tell us what happens to plastic sent for recycling after it leaves the USA. In other words, is it really being recycled and if so, is it being done in a way that is environmentally safe? So far we have very little evidence of what happens and most of what we do have is downright scary. One manufacturer I spoke to that makes plastic items out of recycled plastic said, "We're starting to see recycled plastic coming back now. Most of it comes from Europe, through China." Knowing what I know about how China "recycles" we've opted not to use their products. In fact, after not being able to get ANY recycler to tell us what happens after it leaves the country, we're loath to even "recycle" it. We'd rather suffer the consequences of our own consumption than foist it off on others. Better to focus on reduction.

2. Fluorescent Lights: This is touted as the ONLY type of light to use in spite of their toxicity once disposed of and the detrimental effects that it has on some people.

Mercury is key to making compact fluorescent light bulbs (CFLs) efficient. Electricity sent through the lamp, which contains mercury vapor and an inert gas such as argon, zaps the mercury, setting off a reaction that creates light.

By ignoring the issue of proper disposal and recycling of fluurescent lights, we will end up doing more harm to the environment than we will prevent by using them exclusively.

Some people do experience harmful effects from fluorescents, especially (but not exclusively) where standard ones are used. I've found studies on the internet that indicate that ADD and autistic children are especially susceptible to the harmful effects and fluorescents can cause headaches, migraines, stomach aches, fatigue, eye strain, anxiety, and irritability. Fluorescent lights can also negatively impact the immune system, making people sick.

However, just try and tell someone who's on the fluorescent bandwagon that people get sick and you'll get the same reaction that Galileo got when he declared that the Earth revolves around the Sun.

3. Bogus Surveys to prove your greenness: One survey I recently took (just to see what they called "green") really isn't very green. Their survey was largely based on things like what percentage of the cotton in my wardrobe is organic. Am I'm supposed to go dump all my cotton clothes and replace them with organic cotton clothing? That's not very sustainable! Creating trash just to have something greener is not green. When I indicated that I sometimes eat beef, I got a negative score. The survey builders don't seem to understand that some of us who eat beef are eating grass fed, not grain fed, beef. Very sustainable. Does buffalo fall into the "beef" category? I assumed it didn't, but most of my beef consumption is buffalo, which is not only sustainable, it's very eco-friendly since buffalo is native to the US and contribute to the building of complete and natural eco-systems.

All of the surveys that I've run across are all the same. Ignoring reality and penalizing people for generalities. If we're really trying to get people to think greener, we cannot rely on generalities.

Resolutions

2008-12-30T15:40:00.004-07:00

With another resolution in mind, I purchased a book at the Denver Art Museum while there on Saturday.

It's called Art and Craft in Africa by Laure Meyer and it looks very interesting. When my studio make over has settled down a bit, I'll have to take the time to read it.

Here's a quote from the first line of the introduction.

"It has often been said that the "objet d'art" in the European sense - that is, and object created more for the sake of its beauty than its utility - does not exist in Africa. Yet perhaps nowhere is the art of the object and the love of aesthetic form so present in daily life as it is in Africa."

Redecorating and Organizing

2008-12-30T15:10:00.003-07:00

As part of my New Year resolutions I'm getting my studio back in working order. Step one is well under way.

I purchased a white melamine storage cabinet and have been painting it before assembling. I have some bookshelves that are a very dark rosewood color and 2 carved plaques on the wall that are mahogany. So I chose a paint color close to the mahogany.

As I was painting last night, I realized that the color reminds me of the dirt roads in Cameroon. Since my studio has my African art in it, I felt it was appropriate.

Since the cabinet is made from pressed wood it is REALLY heavy. I purchased some Mighty Mover Furniture Sliders that should help move it around without throwing my husband's back out or dropping it on my toes.

When I worked at a frame shop we had these on the legs of a table with computer and printer on it. That table floated over the carpet so easily we never had to worry about it. I'm hoping to get the same results with the cabinet.

New Year Resolutions

2008-12-24T10:47:00.003-07:00

I resolve to get back into going to Tai Chi 3 times a week. I've gotten out of that in the last 2 months due to work and personal circumstances that have left my plate too full. Something had to give.

I resolve to renew my interest in African Art History. That took a hit this last year and so now I need to take it up again. Perhaps not as earnestly, but certainly on a more active basis than I have been.

I resolve to create more art this year. I've come up with some ideas for combining my fiber fascination with my book fascination and plan to explore that more. I'm moving my print stuff into the studio so that I can do some printmaking this year as well.

With that in mind...

I resolve to get my studio back in working order. I've avoided it as a place to create most of the year for personal reasons and it's time to forge ahead.
• I'm getting a new storage cabinet today that should help free up space and help store materials much more efficiently. I need to get it primed and painted to match my studio decor over Christmas break.
• I have plans for new work tables and need to rearrange the furniture I have to be sure that my plans will work. I hope to build a new desk, a work table big enough for my flat drawer space to fit underneath, and a taller work table with a drop leaf work space.
• I'm moving as much of my creative pursuits into that room as possible. Some of it is out in the family room and I'd like to make that space available for my husband to move most of his silversmithing indoors.
• I'm going to try and work my creative pursuits around materials I already have. My flat drawers are overflowing with wonderful decorative and art papers. I have empty frames waiting to be filled with art that fits. I have fabric just waiting to be turned into something special whether utilitarian or artistic. There's no reason to go buy more stuff to make things out of.

And out of that...

I resolve to come up with a business plan for an Etsy store. This is going to be the tough one.
• I need to design a look and feel as well as page templates and pattern templates.
• I want to start out with some prints and possibly develop a few knitting and crochet patterns for people to download. I'll build from there, hopefully with some stash-busting art.

Green Christmas

2008-10-31T08:31:00.003-07:00

As I was looking at a Christmas decoration display in a local store the other day (already on sale) I was thinking about how we generate a lot of junk for Christmas. Why is that?

So my creative challenge to you is this: How can you make your Christmas less about junk, more Green and Sustainable, and more about Relationships?

Believe it or not, this takes some real creative problem solving.

Something that I used to do when I had to live on a tighter budget was to have my groceries bagged in paper rather than plastic. Then I would cut open the bags so that they laid flat and decorated them with whatever I had. Usually a bottle of 99¢ red or green paint. That was my wrapping paper and it was beautiful.

But since I'm encouraging you to use fabric bags for your groceries, try finding other ways of wrapping gifts. Here are some ideas:

1. Reuse paper from last year. I know this sounds awful and cheap, but it's not a bad idea.
2. Use part of the gift as the container or covering. You could give each person a fabric grocery bag and put the rest of their gift inside. Wrap a gift of jewelry in a matching scarf. It might mean you won't want to put some of the gifts under the tree until the last minute, but it would save on all that paper that just gets thrown away.
3. Use newspaper. The funnies section would be great for the kids, give the financial section to the accountant in the family, give the ads to the bargain shopper...

Are you getting the idea?

Some of us are crafty/arty and have stuff around the house that we can assemble into gifts. That's a great way of reusing or recycling. If you knit or crochet, you've probably got a yarn stash that could be raided for good scarf or hat materials. Instead of buying toys, make paper pads for coloring. Take a stack of paper and drill 2 holes at the top edge. Finish by tying the stack together with string through the holes. What a great way to encourage creativity and to use materials you probably already have.

If you don't have stuff to use to make gifts, you can purchase the materials to do so. A really nice hand made gift is knitted cotton dish cloths. They're nicer than the sponges or dish cloths that you can buy, they last longer, and they're a lot less expensive. I can usually get 2 out of one ball of yarn. That makes the cost for each $1 plus my time. I imagine that if they ever end up in a landfill that they'd decompose a lot better than a sponge as well.

If you like to take photographs, put together a photo book through one of the various web sites that are available out there. If it's for grandma, put together a bunch of pictures of the grandkids from throughout the year. If you like to do art photography, put together a book for the photography lover in the family.

I hope this is sparking some ideas. Let me know what you do to make this coming Christmas less about junk and more about what's good for the environment and for the relationships in your life.

Anti-TV and Pro-Creativity

2008-10-13T14:42:00.002-07:00

"One evening a year or two later, I had a life-altering experience: I turned off the television (I watched a lot of it back then), pulled a book of short stories by Rudyard Kipling off the shelf and started reading. I read well into the night … and the next night, and the next. I realized that reading that stodgy old Englishman’s writings was light years more enjoyable and satisfying than sitting through another episode of the Beverly Hillbillies.

I was soon addicted to classic literature and spent the next 30 or so years reading virtually nothing but the classics. I also turned off the television and didn’t turn it on again for about 10 years. (Believe that if you will, but it is true.) With good literature at hand, television was no temptation. I am certain that I became a professional writer because of that period of my life"

Click on the quote to read the whole thing.

Simplify

2008-09-26T15:15:00.004-07:00

"Simplicity is the hardest thing of all" was the title of an art show I did in 2001. All of the works were sumi paintings which use just a few expressive lines to capture the essence rather than the literal appearance of the subject.

Simplicity is hard with words, too. I work for an internal corporate design agency and we're always trying to get our marketing department to trim their words down. More is not better. But it's hard and they often resist.

But rather than trying to explain, I'll give you this post. Leon Ho says it much better than I could.
Limit Your Word Count When Making a Point

Color Combinations

2008-09-14T16:35:00.006-07:00

Are you someone that likes nature and natural things? Do you tend to get stuck in your decorating ambitions because you're not sure how to choose or combine colors?

Go out into your garden and pick things up that you like. Then raid your herbs and spices and start making a mess.

1. Take apart any flowers you picked. The reason for this is that it becomes easier for you to see the color of each part.

2. Make little piles of the herbs and spices on white paper.

3. Start laying the stuff you brought in from the garden next to the piles and see what wonderful combinations you can come up with.

The herbs and spices are fairly neutral and can represent your wood and paint. The garden items can be more layers of color and accent items.

Writing My Life

2008-09-11T16:08:00.006-07:00

I'm writing my autobiography.

It all started with a mid-life crisis. A friend of mine suggested I try it since Write a Novel Month is coming up. Then my sister talked about a retreat she went to that had them writing their life story for 4 hours every morning. She's continued adding to it and suggested that I try it.

So I started writing. I started just writing whatever came to mind that was part of a specific 4 year time span. I was doing it in my pocket sized Moleskine that I carry with me everywhere and quickly realized I needed a notebook exclusively for this project. I picked up one of the new extra-large softcover Moleskines, transferred what I had already written and kept going.

I took a look at the Write a Novel Month website and decided that my memory doesn't work on a novel timeline, so I'm just going at my own pace. I've numbered as many pages as will hold the number of words they recommend (50,000) and I'm about 1/6th of the way there. Not that I'm going to make that a hard and fast rule. It's simply for goal purposes.

It's been an amazingly positive experience. I just write what comes to me and when I'm not writing and remember something, I jot it down on a small piece of paper and stick it in the Moleskine for later. I've been reading through some old family letters in order to spark memories as well. I think that in the final rendition, it would be good to include exerpts from the letters with my part of the story. I think it could also be interesting to combine my efforts with my sister's while retaining our individual voices. Then we'll have to comb the family photos for the appropriate images to illustrate our story.

I know that I'll get to parts that hurt, but I'm going to persevere. I think it will have it's own healing from the honesty of writing it down. The mind often supresses the parts that hurt and sugar coat them over time, which really isn't good.

I'm not doing this necessarily for publication, but for me and my family. So much of a family memory is lost because it is no longer passed from generation to generation. In this way, my neices and nephews will have the best heirloom of all.

7

2008-08-16T19:25:00.000-07:00

warm fuzzy cats
snuggling on a rainy day
cozy