Lumberjacks with a Debit Card

                “Amy, Jenny wants to get our Christmas tree tomorrow, but I have to take Nama to the doctor. Can you two take my debit card and go pick one out? Oh, and take a load to Goodwill on your way.”

                “Sure, Mom,” I answered. I love taking Mom’s debit card. 

                “And try not to spend over $50. $30 is good, and $40 is ok.”

                No problem.

                My little sister and I decided to make it a sister-date. And since all good sister-dates involve matching outfits, we both wore our flannel shirts and our fake UGGs. Never was a pair of more ravishing sisters ever spotted at Goodwill in their cherry red truck. The Goodwill boy accepted our 7 bags of clothes and CDs eagerly. 

                “Hey let’s get coffee at Cutter’s!” Jenny offered. “Oh…but I don’t really have money…”

                “Neither do I,” I said, “But I have Mom’s debit card!” 

                “Yes!”

                I gave Mom a ring and yelled 5 times, increasing in volume every time, “CAN WE USE YOUR MONEY TO BUY COFFEE?” because she happened to be in a parking garage. She acquiesced with cheer and goodwill, once she understood. 

                With our double tall eggnog lattes soon in hand, Jenny drove the little red truck to the local country market and I documented our date. We parked next to the fence surrounding dozens and dozens of beautiful trees, one of which was destined to be in our living room. Our boots crunched across the parking lot as we neared the Christmas-tree pen, pine and chainsaw filling our frozen noses and reminding us that December has come. 

                A bearded man in a jumpsuit met us inside the fence and greeted us like a farm boy. We may have giggled. He began to follow us down the rows of slain firs and nobles, and I thought to myself, “Oh shoot. He won’t ever leave us to decide. Now I feel pressured.” I determined to take my time and make sure I picked a good one. 

                We had the farm man hold out some high-altitude nobles for us to examine before deciding we wanted to go fuller this year. So he led us to the well-fed nobles, and pulled out a six-foot beauty. “Oh, what’s the price on these?” I remembered to ask.

                “Nine dollars a foot.” 

                Jen and I both silently calculated in our heads, “Nine dollars a foot…six feet…That’s just a little bit over $50. What did Mom say again?”

                We sauntered down the row and stopped short when the Helen of all noble pine trees appeared on the fence in front of us. “Can you show us that one?” Farm man did our bidding.

                “Wow…” I thought. 

                “That one,” Jenny breathed.

                She was full-figured and fragrant with just enough character and blemish to keep her from looking plastic and factory-like. Tall, healthy, and dark green, she was made to stand on our ice blue carpet while a cousin of hers blazes in our red brick fireplace. 

“All right, we’ll do this one.”

                Farm man heaved her to the side and pulled out his chainsaw to give Gorgeous a fresh cut and to remove her lowest branches. It was only now as farm man’s partner came out and Jenny pulled up the truck that I realized Helen was a bit taller than that six-footer. I tried to calculate 9 times 7 as I followed the man in doors with Mom’s debit card. 

                He punched in the numbers on his register and added the tax, and it came to a whopping $68. Oh dear… 

                On the way home, feeling like super cute lumberjacks with our pine needle princess in the truck bed, Jenny and I talked through our crisis. 

                “Jen, we just spent almost $70 on a tree…”

                “Mom said no more than $50, didn’t she?”

                “Oh man…most of our friends go cut them and never pay this much.”

                “Oh maaaan…”

                “Oh, I’ll just pay the extra $20.”

                “It IS a beauty!”

                “And we’re having fun. Mom likes us to have fun together.”

                “…With her debit card.”

                After we pulled into our driveway we got the camera out to model with our tree and the red truck. Mom arrived just in time. 

 

                “Mom, Mom…so…we might have paid a little extra.”

                “The guy wouldn’t leave us alone and made me feel pressured.”

                “And you TOLD us to go THERE…”

                “Well, how much?” Mom asked.

                “…$68.” 

                Mom’s eyes got a little big and she repeated back to us our statement that we had indeed paid almost 70 dollars on a Christmas tree. Not to mention, we also bought ourselves double tall Eggnog lattes with her money. I offered to pay her a third of the price, when she sighed and laughed and said, “No, no, you’re ok. It was enough that I didn’t have to go do it!” That’s right, when you’re a mom, time is worth money. And then Jenny threw the icing on the cake when with a sparkle in her large doe eyes, she gave us this epiphany:

                “We didn’t even HAVE a tree last year! We were in San Diego!” 

                YES. You know what this means? By a simple equation of division and cancellation (or subtraction with a dash of deductive reasoning and hope) the Christmas tree of 2011 only cost us $34: the perfect price for a beautiful tree, hunted by two sisters in a little red truck. 

               

A Favorite Picture

       My older sister Jessica and I are standing in the back of a Nissan truck on a hill in North Africa, dumping water into barrels on the ground to be used to mix concrete. The water came from a river about three or four miles away. This was the second trip to Africa for both of us, and the first trip for my parents. Many of my most cherished memories come from this place, with this sister and the rest of my family, biological and not.

Oh Give Thanks!

And I will give thanks for...

* Belonging to the Father.

* Through Jesus.

* By the Holy Spirit. 

* Fellowship with brothers and sisters.

* Disagreements that are discussed because we love each other and we care about what is true.

* Really smart friends!

* Really funny friends.

* MY SISTERS

* MY BROTHER

* The man in my life.

* PARENTS who are wise and loving.

* A job that is super fun.

* Phil, and his new Christmas album.

* Coffee with eggnog.

* A warm house.

* Chickens.

* Pink rain boots.

* Well-behaved, intelligent, and beautiful pets.

* Cute babies.

* Literacy!

* Knowing a foreign language and communicating with people I love in a far away place.

* Traveling.

* Fellowship with the body outside the barriers of my own earthly country.

* The opportunity to serve and befriend in my OWN language again. :)

* Trees.

* Beautiful boots.

* Compliments on my hair, when I haven't done anything. Created this way! ;}

* Blue eyes.

* Singing at the top of my lungs.

* "Oh Holy Night"

* FOOD.

* FOOD.

*COFFEE.

* Married friends.

* Single friends.

* Sunshine.

* Pouring rain.

* My little sister's attractiveness and adventurousness and fashionableness.

* My big sister's eccentricity and intelligence and gorgeousness.

* My big brother's handsomeness and bigness and calm, no-questions-asked, caring-ness.

* My mom's wit, patience, wisdom, and teaching-talent.

* My dad's hospitality, wisdom, discernment, silliness, and his love for the unlovable.

* Talented writers who don't ramble and use too many words like I do sometimes. Haha. 

* My special mug.

* A time to shower every day and dress to impress with earrings that match your shoes and colors that compliment, because it's culturally acceptable in your current location and it's fun.

* A time to keep from showering and wear dresses over baggy jeans, colors that don't compliment, (like plaid with paisley) and scarves every day, because it's culturally acceptable in your current location and it's fun.

* Friends who truly love me.

* Blogs

* Western toilets

* My red 5-speed car.

* Socks.

* Banana bread that my sister made at 11:00pm.

* A chair to sit on.

* Leather stools from Fez.

* Chocolate from Sweden.

* My orange coat.

* Food and shelter and relationships.

* Hope...Even when all these things pass away. 

<3

Go Bake Your Mother Some Date Bars

     This afternoon, I was thinking and interpreting life around me without depending on God’s word as my source of truth. I was depressed. I was making assumptions about my situation because of the emotions I was feeling, and I was becoming uglier by the second.  As I sat in front of my computer, deep in my moody bedroom, I slowly became a tearful extension of the folding chair beneath my rear-end. I suddenly knew I was doing just what I had vowed not to do about 3 hours earlier when life was sunny. Then I had been satisfied with God’s purpose for me. But here I was, being a brat. So I shook myself in disgust and bowed my head to pray. Soon, however, I felt the Holy Spirit tell me that my prayers weren’t going to help right now, because I was still sitting in my chair. “Amy, staying in your room will not help. Get up, go downstairs, and make your mom cookies. You can pray in the kitchen.” I responded, “Ok, Lord. I’ll do that,” and left my cave. 

     The cheery kitchen brightened my heart and Mom was more than happy to help me decide what to make, though the options were slim. When we found that we had no peanut butter, no molasses, and no chocolate chips, I pulled out the dates and declared I would make date bars. I love dates. I can eat them any way and any time. I grinned with sheer delight as I chopped the succulent morsels into gooey chunks, and reflected upon the life of desert nomads and how God provides food even in scorching wastelands. In fact, the last time I made date bars was in North Africa, and quite honestly it was like running through a gauntlet…those dates had maggots. So on that occasion, with every careful chop I was holding my breath and ready to throw the date into the trashcan at the first sign of a fat, wriggling, and lumpy worm. But huzzah! Today’s dates were from sunny California and were probably amply sprayed by chemicals before they were packaged and shipped. And now, they were mine to bake. I boiled them with water and sugar until they thickened to a pudding. Next, I mixed together flour, brown sugar, baking soda, and salt, adding melted butter and egg whites. Half of the crust I padded into the trusty 9x13 pan, sprayed with non-stick, and the date filling I spread on top, finally adding the rest of the crust. After sliding the burdened pan into the oven, eating became something to look forward to. (But when is it not?)

     As I sit here at my computer, waiting for dinner and then dessert, I know I’m already starting to feel bored and depressed again. I think now is the time to sit with my Bible and let His words be the source of my attitude for the rest of the day. Sometimes I need to get up and DO something if I’m thinking too much. And after God calms my mind through the activity, I’m able to sit down with His word and let Him fill my mind with His truth. I’m thankful for His still, small voice that tells me to “get up” when I need to get off my bum, and to “rest” when I’m going too fast, and to “get over it” when I’m only thinking of me. If you’re anything like me and think too much, consider doing things. Don’t just sit. If you do sit, be sure you are thinking on whatever is true, honorable, just, pure, lovely, commendable, excellent, and worthy of praise [Phil 4:8]. And sometimes to do that you need to get out of your dark, depressing bedroom and go make your mother some cookies. 

Back to Work

     When you come home from 5 months overseas and you know going back to your barista job of five years isn't where your heart is anymore, and when you're living with your parents and not sure what else you'll be doing for the next 3-12 months of your life, it's usually the time to look for a place of employment. For me back in September...that place was big blob of mystery. All I could think of were waitress/barista positions or receptionist jobs. (insert sub-culture reference here) I didn't want to do coffee again, because my loyalties lie with my beloved job of 5 years, and so Starbs was not an option. But what do I like besides coffee? Teaching...but there's that problem of a degree. I finally realized near the end of September that I really like shopping at REI and that it is considered one of the top 100 best places to work in the nation. So I applied, and am very thankful to say that I now have a job! I was officially hired at REI about three weeks ago, after a long and dramatic application/interviewing process.

     I began by writing my resume for the very first time. It turned out pretty great, and I was encouraged when I saw my life experiences written out on paper; I have been places. The next step was filling out the REI online application, which was extensive. I felt the first twinges of dread and discouragement when I came to the part that asked me to rate my knowledge of activities such as rock climbing, snowboarding, canoeing/kayaking, snowshoeing, cycling, camping, etc. I had to put a 0 or a 1 on most of these, though I said my knowledge of women's clothing/shoes was "3" and I got REALLY excited when at the bottom of the list it said "travel" and I got to put a 4.Mmmm-hm, that's right.

     I showed up at the job fair on Sept 29 waaaay early, and was 2nd in line at the door. As the time got closer, I looked behind me down the side of the building and saw that I was 2nd out of over 250 hopeful applicants. My odds seemed grim. Like a fairytale.

     We were in line for 5-minute mini interviews done by REI employees. When my time came, I was immediately put at ease by the friendly guy who seemed just as unsure about what he was doing as I was. Somehow, I answered every question without any hesitation and didn't even feel weird talking about myself. But he didn't ask me the one question I prepared for beforehand: "What are your strengths and weaknesses?" Phew. After this, I had to wait two days before knowing whether I was called back for a second interview or not. Even though deep inside I had an inkling from the Lord that this job was from Him and that it was in the bag, I was SURE they didn't want me. But they did! And I was called back for the second round, which was a hairy scary group interview, a week later.

     The group interview was a little fun but mostly on the awkward side. There were twelve of us in this group (there had been another group of 12 that morning) and the overall feeling in the room, to me, was something like this: "I want this job and I will fight you to the death for it, but I will pretend to be your bosom-buddy for the next 2 hours because they want to see us have fun and be friends and work together on all these interactive activities." Since this was my FIRST INTERVIEW EVER, I'm not sure how this one compared, but I really did enjoy it. And by the grace of God, I was able to be myself. I didn't talk a lot and I was honest about my "love of the outdoors" without making my experiences out to be bigger than they were. We got to perform skits and practice selling things. I was discouraged again when I was stuck as the one selling a pair of boots, and it became very clear that I had no idea what I was talking about. I went home again with the attitude of a deeply down-trodden bunny-rabbit wallowing in a pit of complete and utter despair.

     But oh how I jumped for joy and how my parents whooped and nearly cried when I received a phone call from a manager who first asked me if my requested days off were negotiable or not, and after I said yes they were, he said, "Well then I'd like to offer you a job, if that's ok." Um, YES!

     The following two weeks were back-to-back training days with the entire group of 12 new seasonal hires (who finally DID act like bosom-buddies!), and the third week was specified training for us cashiers. (I'm a cashier!) I am now fully trained and have my first official work day this week. I'm thankful to the Lord for the long process that made me trust Him with where He's taking me and with the skills and personality that He has given me and I'm excited to see how He uses this experience later in my life. Most of all, I'm thankful for the blessing of having a job and being able to support myself as I try to live life joyfully being back home again. Though there's still plenty of pain in being patient, I AM having loads of fun being a working woman again.

     "Commit your way to the Lord; trust in him, and he will act."- psalm 37:5

2 Things: You Are Strong, and You Love Me

 Life is hard sometimes and I don't understand it. But I have a God who tells me to trust him and NOT my own understanding, and to acknowledge him in all my ways...because he will direct my paths.


Psalm 62

My soul finds rest in God alone; 
my salvation comes from him. 
He alone is my rock and my salvation,
He is my fortress, 
I will never be shaken.

How long will you assault a man?
Would all of you throw him down -- this leaning wall,
this tottering fence?
They fully intend to topple him from his lofty place;
they take delight in lies.
With their mouths they bless,
but in their hearts they curse.
                                                    Selah

Find rest, O my soul, 
in God alone; 
my hope comes from him.
He alone is my rock and my salvation; 
he is my fortress, 
I will not be shaken.

My salvation and my honor 
depend on God; 
he is my mighty rock, my refuge.
Trust in him at all times, O people;
pour out your hearts to him,
for God is our refuge.
                                                   Selah

Lowborn men are but a breath,
the highborn are but a lie;
if weighed on a balance,
they are nothing; together they are only a breath.
Do not trust in extortion
or take pride in stolen goods;
though your riches increase,
do not set your heart on them.

One thing God has spoken,
two things have I heard:
that you, O God, are strong, 
and that you, O Lord, are loving.

Surely you will reward each person
according to what he has done.

My Princess Room

I am 22 years old, and I have my first ever "princess room". I'm actually excited to keep it clean because I love BEING in it so much! And for me, that's a big thing...

In it, I have paintings I've painted, antiques I've discovered and "inherited", tea sets from Japan and Morocco, cactus-silk bedspreads, hand-embroidered pillow cases, leather stools, and my great-grandfather's old sea chest.

 It's still a work in progress, I have many ideas and improvements I want to make...like a wall-sized antique-hued map of the world for the wall behind my bed. But I don't plan being here forever, so I can't get too comfortable...

But it's lovely, so please enjoy. (If anyone can tell me how to rotate pictures...please do.)

 My tea corner and book case.

 My antique wardrobe.

 My antique dresser and the graphite and watercolor castle painting I did in my sophomore year.

 My Moroccan bed. :)

 Tea set and oil painting of an Arab horse.

 Tea corner, leather stools and old metal sea chest.

 Top of my bookcase, Moroccan shoe photograph and donkey calendar.

...But what are you going to BE?!

                O how this question PLAGUES me. I know it is usually asked with purely innocent and kindly intentions, but to someone who really has no idea what she should be doing with life, it’s one of the most unpleasant questions ever. 

But let me just tell you a story. 

                When I was a little girl, animals were my favorite. My earliest memory is of my 3^rd birthday when I received Rosy, my male black and white Dutch Dwarf rabbit. Later in life, we had dogs and cats. As a child I witnessed one litter of kittens and two litters of puppies born in our house. I taught our dog Molly to run and jump through a home-made agility course in our backyard. And when I was a bit older, I discovered horses, and my girlish crush turned into riding lessons and a sweet relationship with a big lazy quarter horse gelding named Champ. 

                “What do you want to be when you grow up, Amy?” Hmmm…well I like animals…I’ll be a vet! 

                About age 10 was when I discovered James Herriot, and his books about his house-call veterinary profession in England in the last century. I was enthralled by his narratives of cats and dogs and the medical and relational aspects of being a vet. But the story that gripped my fascination and really never let it go was when he saved a near-disastrous birthing of a calf by sticking his entire arm up the mother cow, taking hold of the baby’s hoof, and tugging him about in order to correct his exit position. He saved the day. And I knew I wanted to do just that one day: stick my arm up a mother cow. 

                Though that was a vivid experience that excites me to this day, I later found out that livestock veterinarians must go through nearly 8 years of school to have their degree. So much school did not appeal to my 11-year-old mind, and I soon decided I wasn’t THAT passionate about helping baby cows get birthed. So I went through a time of being content to just be a kid, while also planning my future ranch with my 37 brood mares and my red stallion named Flame.

                About the time that I was finishing junior high, I realized my drawings of Flame and his mares were quite good. I had the makings of an artist. So what does an artist do for a living? That’s when I learned of something called interior design. And thought THAT was surely my calling in life, because it had more of a ring to it than “horse artist.” 

                Soon horses and indoor décor turned into entire homes, and I started drawing and designing my own floor plans. I checked out books from the library on log cabins and architecture. And I realized I didn’t just want to decorate rooms…I wanted to design the houses around them! ARCHITECTURE was now the thought in my head as I began my Associate Degree education at the community college. 

                I was a smart kid. I got a 4.0 in Calculus. I was a favorite in art class. I was on my way to a higher than 3.5 GPA, and thought for SURE I’d get into college for the competitive field of architecture. But all of a sudden…I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to continue in math, though I was good at it…I didn’t want to sit in an office and always be clean and wearing business suits…and I just didn’t want a career. So then, what was I going to college for? I had always been one of those girls who WOULD go to college. My sister did, my parents did, so I would. And I told my friends that I thought everyone should go to college, because…this was my primary argument…what if you DON’T get married??? Well, they all did. But that’s beside the point…

                This is when God taught me that my plan for my life would RARELY work out the way I wanted it to. He took away all my interests. He turned my life upside down, and started leading me down a long path of “not knowing”. So I didn’t move on to a university after I graduated…I stayed home and continued making coffee for a living. I was the professional barista with a 4.0 in calculus math. 

                In the fall of 2007, I went to Japan to be an English teaching intern. Just like that. First time overseas, not because I really wanted to, but because it was an opportunity to see a different country. And my friends were going. But I DID learn some things about myself: I love to travel. Different cultures don’t scare me like I thought…they fascinate me. And I have the ability to play with little children. Something I had never ever done before. (Truly.) AND…I can teach. But did I think I wanted to be a teacher? Psh. No. 

                Spring 2008, I went to Bible school in Sweden…because I could. While there for two months, I learned more about European culture, different beliefs, travel, and about trusting my God. I learned about Jesus. I learned about walking by faith, not by sight. But I also felt pressured by well-meaning professors who encouraged us students to know what our “passion” in life was. 

I had no idea. 

I still did not know what God had made me to do. And it brought tears to my eyes as I tried to pull different talents out of my hat and make them be what I loved, but nothing stuck. I had many wonderful talks with good friends about the Lord’s purpose for us on earth and about what makes me feel “alive.” But all I came away with from Bible school was simply, “Trust Him. And wait and see.”

                After my second trip overseas, I came home with the incurable travel bug. I also knew I had a desire to serve in a far-away place. So when my sister invited me on a trip with her and a friend to North Africa to help build houses, I jumped right in and learned how to raise money. Little did I know that the trip would spark the first major “desire” in my heart since before I had finished high school. I went back to North Africa the following year, for 4 months. And again I went back the year after that, this year, for 5 ½ months. I worked on houses, I learned Arabic, I made beloved friends, I drank tea, I babysat, I drove trucks, I led small tours, I learned to lead and to follow, and I taught English. 

                What has God revealed to me since that time He took away all my interests in my senior year? I am a traveler. I can live, and thrive with His help, in foreign cultures. I love learning and speaking different languages. I love helping people, especially people who have never been helped before. I have the ability to teach, and enjoy it. I love children. And so what do I want to be?

I want to be a woman who fears the Lord, one adventure to the next. And someday? All I really want to BE is a wife and mother. Yes, all those years when I told my friends they really should prepare themselves to be single by getting a degree, I was just like them…deep down simply wanting to be a wife and mother. One who travels, speaks languages, makes coffee, knows math, draws, paints, writes, teaches, rides horses, drives big trucks…

                I’m home now, in the states. I am still making the transition from knowing exactly what I was doing living in N. Africa, to now living in my parents’ home again without a job and without a clue as to what comes next. I checked out college again, to start in January in a TESOL (Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages) bachelor’s degree, but while visiting the city of this university, God made it clear to me in His mysterious way that I should not to go to college in January. I should be home. Applying for a job that I really hope to get, and serving as a leader in the youth group at my church fellowship. These two things “fell in my lap” soon after I arrived home, and I mean to put my heart into both of them (assuming I get a job…) for as long as the Lord keeps me here. The rest…will fall into place in His perfect timing.

               

A Creative Outlet

Why am I starting a blog? It seems to be the cool thing to do these days...or else the totally "not cool" thing to do, depending on who's opinion is being graciously given at the time. But I'm deciding to think it's cool, because I want to start a blog, and I like to be cool.

AND...I like to write! And my English teacher mother is always telling me, "Amy, you know that time you killed a cockroach with a broom in your bathroom in Africa? Please write a creative essay about it!" Or, "You're bored? Write me a paragraph about when the espresso machine almost killed you." Sometimes I say, "Ok Mom" and I write, but usually I don't have the motivation or a suitable audience to read it, so I don't write. I like having an audience. But it also scares me to death...weird...

But here I am in another valley of inactivity after the adventure I had this year living and working in North Africa. I don't have a job...yet...(interviewing tonight!) and I'm often at home, left to do a lot of the one thing I do too much of: think.

What greater way to do something with my thoughts and my locked-away creativity than to write about everything in a blog?! So here I go. :) Please enjoy. There is more to come.