The Best Miserable Birthday

Months ahead of my birthday last month, I told Allyson and Ethan that all I wanted this year was a family camping trip, our first in six years. I had actually reserved a campsite twice in the fall, but both times I had to cancel due to rain in the forecast. This time, I reserved a site with a covered shelter and handicap access so that my sister Amy could go with us, and I was determined not to cancel no matter what. Since forgetfulness runs in our family, I reminded them many times over the ensuing months.

In the days before the campout, the weather forecast grew more and more ominous, but I doggedly held onto our plans. The rain wasn't scheduled to begin until Saturday, so I reasoned that we'd have one good night and could wait out the rain in the covered shelter playing games. 

The celebration began on my actual birthday, a Thursday. Allyson and I drove to my parents' house, where I met Amy and our sister Melody, with whom she lives currently. We enjoyed a delicious meal and our favorite dessert, a concoction made of Butterfinger candy bars, vanilla pudding, ice cream, and Cool Whip. 

Allyson gave me two delightfully practical gifts, a table lamp for my room and a comfortable workout shirt to wear to the gym that I joined recently. She also gave me my favorite healthy candy bar. Best of all, instead of a card, she gave me a full-page handwritten letter that assured me all the love I've poured into her has been received.

Mom and my sisters gave me sweet cards and gifts, too. 

I spent the rest of that evening and the next morning doing what I always do before trips: preparing lots of food and packing my little Kia to the gills. Ethan and his wife Sumer drove out to my house around noon to play with their cat Riggy, whom I've been fostering, and to load up whatever wouldn't fit into my car. This time I had Amy's wheelchair and several other essential items, so packing had been even more of a challenge. 

Ethan, Sumer, and Allyson went on ahead while I packed up the last of the food. Amy and I left about an hour and a half after our planned departure, which is pretty typical. We arrived late in the afternoon to find that Ethan and Allyson had set up their tents, and Allyson was relaxing in her hammock, which she'd strung between two trees. 

The Campsite

The site was amazing! The rectangular covered shelter nestled among lush trees, so close to the lake that you could hear the water lapping against the shore. Just behind and below the shelter was a collection of giant rocks that formed a scenic overlook. I smiled as I pictured how Ethan would have clambered over the rocks if we'd reserved this site on camping trips decades before. 

If You Look Closely, You Can See the Lake

The Best Unanswered Prayer

About a year ago, I endured a bitter disappointment. Over spring break, I made arrangements to fly to Guatemala for a Spanish language immersion program that seemed absolutely perfect for my needs and my priorities. The program combined the school with mission work, and all the proceeds benefited the small mountain village where I would be staying. I was a little put off by the admonition not to drink the water or even to use it for brushing my teeth, but I was more than a little excited about experiencing a primitive way of life. Part of my room and board would cover laundry service... washed in a lake! I figured I would try my hand at doing a bit of laundry just so I could see what it was like for my ancestors.

The week before, I had run several errands in order to update my passport. I was so proud of myself for getting that business taken care of months ahead of time.

In under a week, my new passport arrived! I couldn't believe the efficiency of our government (this time). Inside the package was a pamphlet with instructions for registering my trip so that the embassy would know where to find me in the event of a natural disaster or other emergency. Immediately, I went online and registered. At the end of the process, a travel advisory message filled the screen: "The U.S. government strongly advises travelers to reconsider travel plans to this location." I clicked a link for details about travel advisory level 3 (on a scale of 4).

I was horrified to read about violence on the highways out of Guatemala City, where criminals sometimes set up roadblocks and shoot people before taking all of their belongings. I knew that my fair skin and blue eyes would mark me as a tourist, and that traveling alone as a female could also make me a target.

I literally felt nauseated. I had just spent $900 on a nonrefundable ticket and paid a $50 deposit to the school. For two days, I'd been imagining myself living in that lovely mountain village, pounding my clothes against the rocks at the edge of the brilliant blue lake. Maybe I could just go. The village itself seemed quite safe, and I'd be arriving in the daylight. Surely I could get in and out of Guatemala City without incident.

The words echoed in my mind: "Strongly advises... reconsider travel plans."

If I decided to go, I knew I'd have to lie to my mama. Worrying about her daughter in a foreign country for three weeks would have been bad enough, but throwing government warnings into the mix might just kill her.

Algo Mejor / Something Better

EN ESPAÑOL ABAJO...

[Here is my last bilingual travelogue for a while. School has started and I'm horribly busy with teaching now. For this bilingual series, I compose the story in Spanish and then translate into English so that we can see my progress in learning the language. Disclaimer: All grammar errors in the dialogue are my responsibility.]

ENGLISH TRANSLATION FOLLOWS.

[Aquí está mi último travelogue bilingüe por un tiempo. La escuela ha empezado y estoy terriblemente ocupada con la enseñanza ahora. Todos errores gramatical en el diágolo son mios.]

Muy temprano una mañana, oí una voz masculine y desconocida. Me levanté y me vestí, y entonces me apuré a la cocina.

Allí conocí a un hombre mayor que se parecía a Mecho. Estaban sentados a la mesa, hablando y comiendo.

“¿Es su hermano?” le pregunté a Mecho.

El sonreió. “Sí.”

Le di la mano al hombre y dije, “Me llamo Sarah.”

Él miró a su hermano. Mecho repitío mis palabras. (Aperentemente, mi acento es muy fuerte.)

“Ah. Mi nombre es Israel, pero todos me llaman Lulu,” dijo.

“Oh. Me gusta mucho su nombre… Israel. Y tambien Lulu.”

Lulu reió.

Como de costumbre, no podía entender la conversación de otras personas, pero esto no me molestó. Miré a y escuché a los hermanos y comí mi desayuno con tranquilidad.

Después del desayuno, ellos fueron afuera, donde  Mecho hábilmente le cortó el cabello de Lulu.

“Mecho, usted tiena muchas habilidades diferentes,” dije en mi discurso lento y cuidadoso.

Un Tipo Diferente de Aventura / A Different Kind of Adventure

EN ESPAÑOL ABAJO...

[This is not your typical travelogue, but an important part of my story in Costa Rica. For this bilingual series, I compose the story in Spanish and then translate into English so that we can see my progress in learning the language. (By the way, I'm back home now. It was a difficult adjustment.) Disclaimer: All grammar errors in the dialogue are my responsibility.]

ENGLISH TRANSLATION FOLLOWS.

[Todos errores gramatical en el diágolo son mios.]

¿Se preguntaba sobre que pasó con Walter? Me preguntaba tambien; pensaba sobre esto mucho. 

El domingo siguiente mi tour de su campo, Zeidy y yo debíamos tener una cita en su casa. Recordé el consejo de mi amiga Kim el día antes mi viaje: “Pinta sus uñas. Quizás tú vas a conocer al amor de su vida.”

“No tengo tiempo,” he contestado. 

“Si conoces a un hombre guapo, vas a desear que había pintado sus uñas.”

Decidí que corro el riesgo.

Un Día Sin Lágrimas / A Day Without Tears

EN ESPAÑOL ABAJO 

[Here is my fourth bilingual travelogue entry about my experiences in a Spanish immersion program in Costa Rica. If you can read Spanish, please note that all grammar errors in the dialogue belong to me.]

ENGLISH TRANSLATION FOLLOWS.

[Todos de errores gramaticales en el diálogo son mios.]

En mi sexto día en Costa Rica conocí a unos amigos nuevos. Estaba hablando con Zeidy, la hija de Macha, y ella me invitó que acompañarla. No supe dónde, pero estaba feliz de ver cosas nueva.

"Vamos a ir a un lugar muy bonito," ella dijo.

Manajamos arriba una carretera estrecha con muchas curvas y rocas. Traté de concentrar en nuestra conversación y no me preocupé por mi seguridad.

At Least You Know You're Alive

Last week I told you a bit about my family's recent road trip to Indiana. Now I'm going to tell you about the day that most of us will remember when we look back on this vacation.

Our last Tuesday was designated as Chicago Day. Rather than to brave the traffic and fight for parking spaces, we decided to take the South Shore commuter train that runs between South Bend, Indiana, and Downtown Chicago. I've actually ridden that route many times, and I usually enjoy the sense of adventure. This was my sister Amy's first time to ride the train since her stroke, but our sister Melody had done her research and assured us that the train was handicap accessible.

We decided to depart from Michigan City, an hour's drive away, because it had more return options than the closer South Bend station. On the trip out, we had the benefit of a one-hour time difference; we could leave at 7:00 and have plenty of time to catch the 9:00 train.

I got Amy and myself up that morning at 6:15, which seemed like plenty of time. But I had not factored in the shared bathroom, nor the multiple trips to the basement to holler at Allyson and her friend Kambry. Aunt Sue came to rescue by cooking our oatmeal and even washing Kambry's hair in the kitchen sink just moments before we left.

Following Melody and her husband Joe, we pulled out of the driveway around 7:20, not too bad in my book. While Kambry brushed her wet hair, Allyson routed us to the Carroll Avenue station. If all went according to plan, we would arrive with 40 minutes to spare.

A Milestone for Amy

A week ago today, my sister Amy achieved a milestone that she had been anticipating for nearly a year: completing an 11-day road trip to Indiana for a family reunion. Amy suffered a massive stroke in March of 2016, and she is nearly paralyzed on her left side. She initially received top-notch rehabilitation that restored much of her function. She learned to walk with a cane, feed herself, speak clearly, and do basically anything else that you can do with one hand. But when her insurance company decided that she was finished with rehab, her recovery hit a plateau. She's been living with our parents for the last year and a half, and the only therapy she receives is stretching exercises with Mom, who can be a tough taskmaster.

A couple of months ago, she underwent an experimental stem cell treatment using cells from her own body. (Our former brother-in-law, James, provided this treatment at no cost.) Since then, Amy has increased flexibility in her hip and is now able to extend her curled fingers by bending her wrist with her other hand. Her concentration is also improving, and she now reads murder mysteries and even dreams about math.

Our brother Rick strives to push Amy past her limits. He takes her out frequently and brings her home for dinner, and he always insists that she walk rather than use her wheelchair. His front and back porches have a small step, and she has become proficient in navigating those obstacles.

But this Indiana trip challenged Amy on a whole new level. We started with approximately 16 hours of driving over the course of two days. Traveling in a caravan of 12 with passengers ranging in age from 3 to 87, we made a lot of stops. It was a far cry from Dad's idea of a road trip: waking a couple of hours before dark and driving straight through, with everyone holding their pee until we had to stop and fill up or get fast food. No, this time we stopped every hour to hour and a half, and each stop took 15-30 minutes. At every stop, Amy laboriously pulled herself to her feet and walked across parking lots and through truck stops, up hills and down rest-stop sidewalks. This helped ease the pain from her stiff muscles, but all that walking wore her out and made her back hurt because of the way her limp shoulder hangs down.

Sometimes You Just Need to Give Up... But Don't Give In

This past Friday, I administered final exams to my last three classes and headed out around 1:30 to pick up Allyson and her friend Kambry for our long awaited annual camping trip. Yes, I realize it's a little crazy to plan a camping trip for June 1 in Texas, but I knew I could enjoy it much better while unencumbered by teaching responsibilities. Besides, we'd gone a week later the previous year, and the temperature was fine.

This time, my niece Hillary was the first to arrive at Lake Ray Roberts, and she'd staked out a site right on the water's edge. For the third year in a row, I'd reserved a primitive campsite with neither water nor electricity, and we had to carry our gear down a dirt and gravel path. As the four of us carried in the first load, Allyson and I reminisced about our first visit to this same state park two years earlier.

I Press On

At 10:40 AM this past Sunday, just one hour and 40 minutes behind schedule, Allyson and I took off on a short vacation to the Texas Hill Country, bound for what we call The Donkey Cabin. We'd stayed in that charming 1840s log cabin exactly two years before on a trip with Ethan and my niece Savannah, and we couldn't get wait to get back there.

Around 2:00, we met up with Allyson's friend Kambry, who'd been on a vacation with her aunt and uncle just 48 minutes from our destination. I took those giddy girls straight to Longhorn Caverns State Park.

When we turned onto the six-mile park road, I was shocked to see a sign for Inks Lake. "Hey, Allyson!" I said. "Remember that lake where we jumped off the cliff into the water that time?"

"Yeah!"

"This is the same road that leads there. What was that? Three years ago? Yes, it was the same trip when we found out we'd gotten the contract on our dream house, right before we watched the fireworks. Wasn't that the best day ever?"

"Yes, it was! Can we go back to Inks Lake?"

"We'll see," I said. "I thought you wanted to go to McKinney Falls this time."

Best Days of My Life

This past Friday evening, aboard a sunset dolphin cruise in Destin, Florida, I was feeling pretty melancholy because it was already the last night of our much-awaited beach vacation, a graduation celebration for Ethan and my niece Hillary. I'd been longing for a quiet week to rest, lie on the sugar sand, and maybe walk along the beach with my Beloved. But somehow, all six days had slipped through my fingers, and I was still waiting for that relaxation I needed so much.

My sister Amy, me, Allyson

Amy, our sister Emily, nephews Charlie and Sam

Charlie, nephew Jacob, brother-in-law Paul, Sam

Nieces Hillary and Savannah, friend Sarah

Charlie and our crazy captain

Just as I was trying to shrug off my dark mood so that I could enjoy the sunset and the sea spray, Summer of 69 started blaring from the very loud, crackly radio. For a moment, I enjoyed the nostalgia as I always do, but then I started thinking about the words: "Those were the best days of my life." And I thought, "What were the best days of my life?"

More Beautiful Than a Sunrise

Week before last, I spent six days on a spiritual retreat called HeartQuest, completely unplugged from civilization. With 28 total strangers, I boarded a bus for a ranch in the Texas Hill Country, where we would steal away with our Beloved.

I won't share the details of what we did there because our time was sacred. But I will tell you that I came home with 28 sisters, all cherished daughters of the King. Here are some of my favorite memories of my time with God....

On Thursday, I set off at sunrise to find the place where God was calling me to spend the day alone with Him. I was excited but also nervous because I wondered how I would hear His leading. I walked straight down the ranch house drive, a backpack on my back and a camp chair slung over one shoulder. "Should I go left or right?" I whispered. "Or just keep going straight?"

All I heard was birds chirping.

As I waited for direction, I couldn't keep my eyes off the sunrise. Looking to the east, my eyes fell on a little drive. I was drawn to it, as if following it would take me closer to the rising sun. But I hadn't heard the Voice of God. "Is it okay to go this way?" I asked.

All I heard was the leaves rustling in the gentle breeze.

Squinting against the sun, I struggled to breathe against the gathering tightness in my chest. "How will I know where you want me to go?" I asked, not bothering to hide my frustration. "I don't hear anything."

A couple of tears rolled down my cheeks. "Why is it so hard to hear you?"

Just then, I spotted a white and black metal sign: Keep Out.

I laughed out loud and wiped my nose with the back of my hand as I turned in my tracks. "Okay, that's pretty clear guidance."

With that rueful laughter, all the tension drained away and I began to just enjoy walking on these gorgeous grounds. I stopped listening so hard and just let my feet take me where they wanted to go. I squeezed through a crack next to the large iron gate, crossed the country road, and followed some wheel ruts that could pass for a road. Both sides of the road were wooded, with rather squat trees and a few cactus plants.

 After a few hundred yards, I lurched abruptly to the right, headed into the woods. I hiked due west, but didn't stray too far from the wheel-rut road; I've always had a fear of being lost in the woods. I set up my purple chair under a circle of evergreen trees. The branches were only sparsely covered, but they were still pretty, and later I would be thankful for their modest shade.

I'd just settled into my chair when six or seven deer trotted past. I could barely glimpse them through the trees, but I could make out a couple of does and some fawns. One of the does froze, nose lifted in the air as she searched me out. A moment later, they all ran deeper into the woods, their hooves thundering softly on the pine needles that cushioned the ground.

Tears pricked my eyes as I sang softly, "As the deer panteth for the water, so my soul longeth after thee. You alone are my heart's desire, and I long to worship thee."

I thanked God for sending the deer and asked Him if he could send some a little closer so I could get a better look.

Over the next few hours, I didn't see any deer, but I did see an assortment of baby trees ranging from two inches to about three feet tall. They were so cute, these miniature trees with nearly adult-sized leaves. One tiny tree had just four leaves which dwarfed its spindly branches. I thought of all the Bible verses about trees and imagined my own growth, my gradual transformation into an "oak of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of His splendor." (Isaiah 61:3)

As I examined a tree trunk intently during a short hike, a lizard startled me, and I cried out. It darted away to safety before I could get a good look at it, and I was disappointed. But God graciously sent me another lizard later while I sat in my chair inside the circle of trees. It stood at the foot of my chair as if it were posing for me. Instead of cringing as I usually do when I spot anything lizard-like, I marveled at its tiny snout, tail, and clawed feet.

Several times throughout the day, I noticed what appeared to be a hawk circling lazily overhead. (I later learned it was a turkey vulture, but I prefer to think of it as a hawk.) As I admired its effortless flight, I praised God for the way His creatures delight in doing what they were made to do. That's how I feel when I write, and even more so when I open my heart to love someone.

I also saw a jackrabbit at one point. Its tall, pointed ears were definitely rabbit-like, but I was shocked to see it walking on all fours rather than hopping. It was most peculiar and quite cute.

The only creatures I did not enjoy were the gnats that buzzed relentlessly in my ears and nose. I figured they must have some spiritual meaning, like how we have to persevere and push past the distractions that pull our focus from God's purpose in our lives.

It was an imaginary creature who made me laugh at myself. A city girl to the core, I haven't had much experience with peeing outside. The first time, I didn't take gravity into account, and I ended up making a puddle right behind my heels. The second time, I felt pretty clever when I found a gentle slope and tried to pee downhill. However, I'd been drinking so much water and Gatorade that I--well, let's just say that the stream was so strong that it defied gravity and probably splashed a bit onto my jeans. [Men, count your blessings.] The third time, I went back to my gentle slope and bent into a deep plié, with my behind just an inch or two off the ground so as to minimize the splashing.

I'd just started peeing when a tuft of grass tickled my butt. Thinking it was a bug, I lurched forward, spraying pee onto my shoes. Aiyee! There was no one to laugh with but God, and we shared a good chuckle. It reminded me of the first time I had shared a joke with God.

The best moment came at the end of the day, while I was engrossed in reading some notes from friends and family that brought me tears of joy. When a loud snort interrupted my reverie, I looked up to see a proud, magnificent buck staring right at me. He was standing in a clearing, maybe 50 feet away. I caught my breath, eyes wide with wonder. After ten seconds or so, he snorted again and galloped away.

In all the day's adventures, I'd forgotten my morning prayer, but God hadn't. He'd even prompted that deer to catch my attention so I wouldn't miss the moment. "Oh, thank you," I breathed. I felt certain now that I'd found exactly the spot God had chosen for me.

Early Morning Rendezvous

Two days later, I awoke long before 6, much earlier than I'd planned. I lay in bed for a good 30 minutes, trying vainly to fall back to sleep. At home, when I wake up in the dark, I figure God wants to talk to me. But at the ranch, I shared a room with three other women, and there was no cozy prayer closet, only a cold hallway. "Can we talk later? I'm really sleepy," I prayed silently.

At last, I gave up and drug myself out of bed. As I pulled on my clothes by the light of my flashlight, a wonderful thought occurred to me. I could watch the sun rise! It would be so amazing to see it peeping over the horizon across the wide open field. I hurriedly gathered my Bible and journal and padded down the stairs and into the darkness, grabbing a camp chair off the porch.

I set up my chair next to the ranch drive, just at the edge of the meadow, and watched the sky intently. Slowly, slowly, the blackness gave way to gray light. Where was the sun?  Could I be facing the wrong direction? I thought of the time my friend Angela and I had stayed at Hideaway Ranch. We watched the most gorgeous sunset over the back porch of our cabin, and then watched for the sunrise on that same porch! We were so mad at ourselves when we remembered that the sun rises on the opposite horizon from where it sets.

This time, I was certain. I distinctly remembered admiring the sunrise across that same meadow.

While I waited, I talked with Jesus. I shared something that was heavy on my heart, and I felt a peaceful assurance that He was not only going to take care of everything, but that His plan for this situation would end in a beautiful picture of His grace.

After 20 minutes or so, several of our leaders emerged from the gray darkness, walking down the long drive toward the main house. "Sarah, is that you?" one called. "What are you doing?"

"Waiting for the sunrise," I answered.

"Oh, I don't think there will be much to see today," Toni said. (Or maybe it was Ginny; it was hard to tell in the darkness.) "Too many clouds."

I smiled. Surely God hadn't woken me up and brought me out here if there wasn't going to be a sunrise. Besides, don't the clouds usually make a sunrise even more colorful?

After another ten minutes, I had to admit that Toni was right. It was now fully light, but there was not a hint of color on the horizon. Instead, there were many, many shades of gray. I had to laugh. A gray sunrise!

And then it dawned on me (so to speak). The beauty of this silent morning wasn't in the sunrise. It wasn't even in the birds chirping. The beauty was Him. He had called me out there to spend time with Him.

Therefore, behold, I will allure her,
and bring her into the wilderness,
and speak tenderly to her. (Hosea 2:14)

"Thank you that there was no sunrise," I prayed, my cheeks wet with tears. "If there had been, I would have been distracted. You are so much more beautiful than a sunrise, Beloved."

I want to carry the beauty of that gray sunrise the rest of my days.

One Beautiful Moment at a Time

As always, I've been saving up so many stories, but there's only time for one. Here it is....

The week of July 20th (over a month ago now), we set off on our first family vacation since the divorce (unless you count our giant family vacation to Oklahoma the spring break before last). I was nervous about a lot of things, like packing up the car without Bill's expert help, and planning the itinerary on my own. I chose a remote cabin in the Texas Hill Country, but beyond that I left it a little loose, figuring each of us could choose an activity from the Texas vacation magazine we'd borrowed from Bill. There were so many activities in the Hill Country region, all clustered around our little dot on the map, a town called Kyle. 

I put the most planning into our meals. We had a limited budget, and I didn't want to blow the bulk of it on restaurant meals. Over the course of the preceding week, I'd made three oven meals for the freezer so that we could have dinner at the cabin each night. The frozen meals would keep the cooler extra cold for the eggs, milk, and fruit that I'd bought for our breakfasts. I felt so clever, and thrifty! Surely I would have made Dave Ramsey proud. But I'd forgotten what often happens to the best laid plans....

The Saturday before we left, Allyson was with Bill and Ethan was with his father, Byron. I picked up my niece, Savannah, that morning so that she could help me get ready for the trip and also help with some housework. We worked hard all that day, checking off one cleaning task at a time from the giant list I had made. Savannah was a huge help. I enjoyed spending a whole day with her, and especially going to the Saturday service with her. What a joy to worship together! 

I spent most of Saturday evening packing and going over all my lists. Sometime around 11, Allyson and I sat down at the computer to map our route. We could scarcely contain our excitement as we looked at pictures of the cabin and read about the amenities, including a river running right through the ranch. But then I discovered something really awful: there was no kitchen, just a "kitchenette" including a tiny antique sink, a dorm fridge, and a small microwave. What? No oven? Nooo!

I ran to the kitchen and put two of the meals into the oven, and then pulled the frozen broccoli chicken casserole out of the deep freeze to thaw in the refrigerator overnight. Now I'd have to get up an hour and a half earlier to bake it and let it cool a bit before packing it in the cooler. Argh!!

It was around 1 when I collapsed into my bed. After what seemed like only a moment, the alarm went off and I woke up cranky and stressed. I quickly hit my next snag. There was no way to fit all that food into our rather petite cooler, and now that the meals weren't frozen, I didn't feel good about leaving any of them out of refrigeration for the four-hour drive. I ran to a neighbor's to see if I could borrow a mini cooler but had no luck. So I thought hard and arrived at a great solution: 

...a cake carrier and a Ziploc bag full of ice. It was the perfect size for the meatloaf and the casserole. Who says I don't have any common sense? 

After I'd put together the makeshift cooler, Savannah helped me cram the real cooler, the camp stove, the electric griddle, our bags, and a few other things into the tiny trunk. It took a couple of tries, but we managed to get most of it in. Allyson and Savannah had to keep their bags under their feet, and the plastic bin of dry food took up the little space between them in the backseat, with the cake cooler perched precariously on top. (We soon learned that the cake cooler wasn't watertight. As I rounded a curve, the carrier tipped, and out poured a greasy yellow liquid, right onto Savannah's zebra blanket. Ugh!)  

By the time we picked up Ethan, who was about 40 minutes in the wrong direction, it was nearly 11, and Allyson and I were already getting hungry. And that's how we ending up stopping just past the edge of the Metroplex, under an hour after we'd started out from Byron's house. 

"This is the nice thing about not traveling with a man," I thought. "We don't have to worry about making time. We can stop whenever we want, and we don't have to leave at the crack of dawn." (Actually, when my dad was in charge we often left well before the crack of dawn.)

As I pulled off at a poor excuse for a rest stop, Ethan's indignant voice interrupted my reverie. "What?? We're stopping already? We're barely even out of town!" 

"I know, I know," I said. "But we're hungry." I pressed my lips together to hold in the laughter; I'd forgotten that Ethan is a man. 

"I'm staying in the car," he grumped. And that's exactly what he did. Unperturbed, Savannah, Allyson, and I sat at a cement picnic table and ate our tuna sandwiches and cheezies while Ethan pouted in the car. 

Funny, Ethan wasn't complaining when we stopped in West an hour or so later for world-famous kolaches at the Czech Stop. Not even when we had to wait in this line that stretched along two sides of the large convenience store: 

Sweet Savannah

 We all agreed it was worth the wait when we tasted these:

Well, all but Allyson, who thought her kolache tasted "weird." I was only too happy to take it off her hands. 

Near Austin, we stopped at Natural Bridge Caverns, where we all marveled over the stalactites and stalagmites, and over the unnerving sensation of total darkness. 

When we came back out, we found that the ice in the cake cooler had turned to hot water. My stomach lurched. What if the food had spoiled? After all that work? 

"It'll be fine," Ethan said.

And he was right. We ate all of it, and we lived to tell about it. But I'm getting ahead of myself. 

After we'd driven through tiny downtown Kyle and down a two lane road that tapered to gravel, and after Allyson had opened and re-latched two big gates, at last we came to our 1840s log cabin. All the females squealed with delight. (I'm not sure if Ethan made any sound because I was too caught up in the rapture.) See for yourself:

 After we'd exclaimed over the tiny living room, kitchenette, and master bedroom and bath, Allyson asked, "But where's the second bedroom?"

Oh boy. Maybe an oven wasn't the only thing missing in this quaint cabin! That church bench in the picture above was the only semblance of a couch.

"Oh, here it is!" Allyson said. Indeed, tucked in the corner was a wooden box of sorts, and inside that was a scary cross between a ladder and a stair case. Each step was a narrow slat of wood that creaked under our weight.

In this sharply peaked room, the original cabin owner had raised 17 children over the course of three marriages! 

Despite the inconvenience of the impossibly tiny fridge (concealed behind a curtain that kept getting shut in the door), the shallow sink, and the tiny microwave (behind the green shutters below), I had to admit I could see the appeal of this authentic 1840s kitchen.

I imagined myself cooking for 17 children in that fireplace (though I'm sure they didn't all live here at the same time). Her kids must have been way, way more helpful, I concluded.

Allyson was pretty helpful!

Allyson insisted on the bonnet and apron,
though I'm pretty sure they were just for looks. 

One of my favorite moments came while I rocked in the cane-bottomed chair, wondering if that other mother ever felt as hopelessly worn out as I do most days. Just then, Allyson coiled herself on my lap, knees touching her chin, arms wrapped around me, with her cheek pressed against my heart. Did that mother ever experience such sharp sweetness when a little one crawled in her lap? A lump gathered in my throat as I recognized this as one of those moments that I always pray to enjoy, one at a time [in the Serenity Prayer, which I recite each Tuesday while we all hold hands in a giant, misshapen circle].

Allyson and Savannah's favorite moments were probably feeding the funny donkeys that followed us everywhere. Savannah even forgave this cheeky one for accidentally biting her hand while she fed it grain that the cabin owners had left for us. 

We convinced ourselves that the one below was pregnant, though I bet she was just fat. We all pressed a hand to her side each day, feeling for donkey kicks, but we never felt anything. We did get to watch another mama nurse her adolescent baby, which was funny because when she wasn't in the mood for nursing, she nipped her big baby's bottom. Even funnier was the time when the cheeky donkey squeezed through the chained gate and into our cabin yard, and then all the others followed. 

Aside from an amazing day at the giant Schlitterbahn waterpark, which even I enjoyed immensely, the rest of the vacation did not go as planned. Turns out that the Hill Country region of Texas is way larger than I'd imagined. Many of the attractions clustered so closely around the town of Kyle were actually two to three hours away! 

It didn't really matter. It wasn't really the "memorable" touristy things that I will cherish. No, it was the odd, unpredictable moments: 

• Dozing on two grassy beach towels in the shade of towering cypress trees at Blue Hole while the kids jumped in and out of the bone-chilling, spring-fed water. Only half hearing their muted shrieks, I savored the gentle sun as I remembered the jolt of that water after they convinced me to jump off the dock, and after I made myself jump off the rope swing just to prove that I could. 

• Walking along the dry river bed and attempting to skip rocks in the brackish water that remained in one small hollow. And then laughing nervously over all three kids' fear when they ran from a boar that was rooting in the brush. (They all abandoned me, for the record.) 

• Forcing the kids to help me wash dishes in that tiny sink. We made a great, if reluctant, team. 

• Playing Dutch Blitz at the antique table by pale lamplight. Allyson wanted to quit after Savannah and I won the first two games, but after she won the third, she wanted to play again to break the tie. I said no; now we were all winners. (Ethan was up in the loft. He's too cool for games.) 

• Reading the Bible aloud in the loft while simultaneously scratching both Ethan's and Savannah's backs, with a bit of help from Allyson. 

• Window shopping in the picturesque town of Wimberley. I couldn't believe that even Ethan enjoyed that. I was even more surprised when he and Allyson enthusiastically dug through the clothing racks at a thrift shop and walked away with some crazy-cheap treasures. I'm glad they aren't too proud for thrift shop clothes. 

• Sitting alone on the front porch in the mornings, with lowing cattle and joyous birds for company, surrounded by more trees than my eyes could drink in. God met with me there in the stillness, and He quieted me. The only fly in the ointment was being deviled by all the bugs in the great outdoors. On the last morning, I almost fell out of my chair at the approach of a whirring insect nearly the size of my fist... that turned out to be an exquisitely delicate hummingbird! As I watched breathlessly, it drank nectar from a bush just off the porch and then hovered over a bloom in the hanging basket above my little table. I don't think I'd ever seen a hummingbird in person, outside a zoo, and I was enthralled, warmed by this kindness from my Father. Again, I wanted to store up this one beautiful moment. 

• Ethan's amazing helpfulness as we packed up on the last morning. He kept us on schedule for our 11:00 checkout and effortlessly loaded the trunk, with room to spare. 

The best moment of all may have been a quick prayer that last morning with my sobbing daughter. Everyone else had gotten to choose a day's activity, but we couldn't do what she wanted to do because there just wasn't time to drive to the lake, and the rest of us didn't want to drive all the way home in soggy bathing suits. I held Allyson close on that church bench couch and prayed that God would lead us to an activity we could all enjoy, and that He would help us to appreciate this last day together. I asked that He would help Allyson let go of her disappointment so she could enjoy His plans for us. 

In the car, I told her to choose between McKinney Falls (her original choice) and the Austin Nature Preserve, which was Ethan's suggestion. She pondered the choice soberly and then graciously agreed to the preserve. I was so proud of her.

I can't imagine anything we would have enjoyed more. There was a tiny, fun museum with hands-on science experiments and fossils we could touch. There were displays of rescued animals including an adorable raccoon and several birds of prey. There were rugged nature trails with amazing views. And it was all free! 

Here we are atop a brick ledge overlooking downtown Austin, far below. 

Do you see that? Even Ethan is smiling! And sweet, gracious Allyson is having the most fun of all. 

As hard as it was to let go of our too-short vacation, it was a gentle joy to return to my beloved home and wonderful neighborhood. I am blessed beyond anything I could have imagined. 

Vancouver Visit and Family Pasta Night

In my last entry, I mentioned that I've been saving up some happy stories to share. Here they are...

Vancouver 2012
On Christmas day we went for what will most likely be our last family vacation, and probably my last trip to Vancouver as well. For that reason, the whole experience was very bittersweet.

We had a rough start as our plane was initially delayed by about 20 minutes, during which time snow started falling thickly. "Ooh! Look at the pretty snow!" Allyson and I exclaimed. (We don't get much snow in Texas.)

We wouldn't have been so excited had we known that that snow would cause us about a six-hour delay. First, we waited interminably for de-icing. Just when we were next in line, a flight attendant announced that we were returning to the gate. Due to a federal law passed to "protect our comfort," we could not remain on the tarmac more than 2.5 hours. "Merry Christmas," she said wryly.

So we sat at the gate another hour or so while they figured out what to do next. While we ate federally mandated cookies and had a sip of federally mandated water, the flight attendant explained that most of us would probably miss our connections in Seattle, and there was no guarantee we could get a later flight. She cheerfully added that there was no guarantee that we could get a flight the next day, either. And the airlines was not going to pay for accommodations in Seattle since the snow was not their fault. (They conveniently forgot that we would have missed the snow had we departed on time.) Also, if we were to exceed the 2.5 hour maximum wait again, our flight would be canceled. "Merry Christmas," she concluded. About a third of the passengers disembarked, including my seatmate. Sweet! Now it was just me and Ethan in the back row, right across from the toilets that were probably near to overflowing by the end of our ordeal.

We decided to take our chances and stay on the plane. About two hours later,  we were de-iced and in the air! And after about ten hours on the plane, we arrived in Seattle. When we landed, we found we'd been automatically booked on the 11 P.M. flight, about three hours later. But Bill's dad had driven down to pick us up, so we claimed our luggage and climbed in the car for a 2.5-hour drive. I think we all preferred that to boarding another plane.

So we arrived at the house shortly before midnight. Despite the late hour, we sat down for Mom's customary soup and sandwiches. Delicious!

The rest of the trip went much better. The highlight for me was an 85-minute massage at the Harrison Hot Springs Resort, compliments of Mom. This was a wonderful blessing as I'd been longing for a massage for months. I also greatly enjoyed soaking in the hot pools, which were heated by the local hot springs.

Or maybe the highlight was playing cards and dominoes with Bill's family--especially when I beat them all on New Year's Eve.

For the  kids the best part was probably skiing at Hemlock Mountain, where Allyson had her first lesson. She had the 16-year-old instructor all to herself, and he did a great job with her. It must have been rather harrowing for him to ski behind her on the tow rope; she usually ended up sliding backward when she got off, and he had to catch her before she knocked all the other beginners down like dominoes.

 

Looks Like She's Playing Twister

Practicing Her "Pizza" Stance

At the end of 1.5 hours, the instructor pronounced her ready for the easiest chair lift, and Bill bravely took her up. He said she got off the chair easily enough, and then she took off down the mountain at breakneck speed. I guess she forgot her pizza and went with french fries instead. Daddy had told her to sit down if she couldn't stop, so she tried to sit but ended up in a tuck position and went even faster. At last she fell, flipped, and got a face full of snow. (That's the way she tells it, anyway. Bill says it wasn't such a bad fall.)

She'd made it about a third of the way down the slope, but now she was spooked. It took 30 minutes or so to go the rest of the way down because she'd ski about six feet and then make herself fall down. But they finally made it to the bottom, all in one piece.

Allyson's cousin James learned to ski also. Trevor pushed him up the bunny slope over and over, and he fearlessly skied down. For the next day or two, he kept saying, "I love to ski."

James (Age 4) and Bill's Brother Trevor

I'm told Ethan has now totally mastered snowboarding, but I never got to see him this time. I wish I had a picture to share.

We also went walking along the sea wall at White Rock Beach. The kids enjoyed looking for crabs and shells.

Katie, Allyson, James

Katie and Allyson

Mom limited each child to two shells. "Can I keep one, too?" I asked. She smiled and nodded. I had found a lovely purple clam shell. I brought it home as a reminder that--for a clam, at least--a painful bit of sand results in the iridescent beauty of a pearl. I pray beauty comes out of my pain as well.

As always, there was one sumptuous meal after another, plus all our favorite treats, including way too much shortbread. I gained five much-needed pounds while I was there. I also caught up on my sleep. One morning I even slept until 11! I don't remember the last time I slept that late.

I have to share one more airport misadventure that occurred when we landed in Dallas. As we exited the Jetway, I stopped and bent over to put some books into my carry-on bag. I didn't notice that the man ahead of me had stopped also and was bending over to put something in his bag. Nor did I notice that he had about three inches of pasty white butt crack sticking out of the top of his sagging jeans. So when I stood back up, I very nearly put my nose where the sun don't shine! I all but yelped as I backed away. Bill caught my eye, and we both cracked up, so to speak. It felt good to laugh with him.

Family Pasta Night
The night after our return, Allyson and I went over to Uncle Rick's for what I hope was the first of many Family Pasta Nights. Rick and Mindy had prepared the dough ahead of time, and I helped knead it. Then we passed it through all six settings on Mindy's new pasta roller. Allyson manned the crank, and the rest of us took turns feeding the dough in and catching it as it came out.

Here's how it looked on the first setting:

By the last setting, it was 10 or 12 feet long!

Rick, Mindy, and Rick's Friend Dave

Here's how it looked after we cut it into segments and ran it through the cutter attachment: 

We served it with Gorgonzola walnut Alfredo sauce and roasted kale. For dessert we had Purdy's chocolates from Bill's mom. It was all unbelievably delicious, better than a fancy restaurant!

Speaking of Cruise Ships...

When I told you recently how I learned I was pregnant while we were on a cruise, I was reminded of another cruise ship story that I just have to share. It's a favorite with my family, especially my Aunt Becky, who always says, "Tell that story about the cruise" when I see her in Indiana. So here it is...
Back in the spring of 1998, my ex-husband Byron and I went on a Caribbean cruise with our friends Thomas and Julie. Eleven-month-old Ethan stayed with Aunt Emily.

It was a budget cruise line, on a relatively small refitted military ship that seemed gigantic to me. It was rather spartan, but the entertainment was good and the food was phenomenal. It was a smaller group than you find on the larger lines, more relaxed and personal. You could actually get to know people, or at least recognize them--as we would find out later.

Me (age 27) and Byron

I immediately developed a raging allergy attack or perhaps a cold. I paid a ridiculous sum for allergy medication in the gift shop and then spent the rest of the trip in a fog. For example, I fell asleep during a high-stakes bingo game where I could have won big money. Here's what I do remember about our trip...

One of the stops was in Jamaica, where we took a raft ride down a lazy trickling stream surrounded by lush greenery. The rafts were propelled by wiry, sweaty young men with long poles.

Thomas and Julie--I Suppose They Have the Matching Pic of Us

We rode docile horses and battled mosquitos on a trail ride in the blazing Mexican sun. We browsed through outdoor markets where you had to haggle over prices with proprietors who followed you down the street. I came home with a beautiful tanzanite ring; it was the first time I had ever seen that lovely purple stone.

The highlight of our trip was supposed to be the stingray excursion in Grand Cayman. We went out in a boat on the shallow water to a spot where a school of tame stingrays came for daily feedings. My heart pounded as I climbed down the ladder. I have an irrational fear of all fish, let alone fish whose sting can be fatal.

See that girl in the yellow bikini petting the stingray? No, that's not me. Are you crazy? See that other girl with both hands up, looking nervous? No, that's not me either.

Where was I? Back in the boat with the old ladies and the little kids. I'd made it about ten feet away from the boat. My legs almost went out from under me when I saw hordes of sting rays swirling around us. But it was all over when I stepped on one--almost, but it darted away, brushing against my foot with one velvety smooth wing. I would have drowned had the water not been waist deep. I spun around and tried to climb out of the water on an imaginary staircase. I might have even climbed over the nearest strangers in my scramble for the ladder.

So there I sat, woefully watching other people have the time of their lives while I berated myself for my cowardice. Byron tried to coax me out, but I wouldn't budge. He stayed out there until the guide shooed everyone back into the boat. He petted stingrays, swam with stingrays, and took lots of pictures of stingrays.

Just before we left, one of the guides lured one of the biggest rays over to the boat and held it while the tourists petted it. I watched one person after another take a turn, even the little kids and the old ladies. Just before it was time to head back, I forced myself down the steps and ran a trembling hand over the silky surface of that gentle sting ray. It wasn't gross or slimy at all. It felt like wet satin, and was not much thicker than satin at the wings.

As memorable as that experience was, it was nothing compared to what happened on the next stop. Each morning when we left for the excursions, the ship's staff would have us synchronize our watches to the latest time zone, and they would repeat the ship's departure time over and over. "Do NOT be late," they warned. "We will not wait for you, and you'll have to make your own travel arrangements to get to the next island or back home. It will not be cheap."

I shuddered at the thought of being left behind. No way I would ever let that happen. Usually, there was no worry anyway because if you went on an organized excursion, they brought everyone back to the ship in plenty of time.

But by the time we reached Cancun, we were running low on funds and decided to spend the day on our own. We did a bit of shopping and then lazed around at a famous bar whose name escapes me. The whole time, I kept eying my watch and getting more and more antsy as the 3:00 deadline approached.

Around 2:00, I insisted on heading back. "Relax. We have plenty of time," Byron said as he stopped and admired little trinkets in the street market. We bought a couple of things along the way and arrived back at the port by 2:30.

It took us a moment to notice that the port was empty. "This is the wrong place," I said.

Byron looked around. "No, this is where we docked this morning. I'm sure of it."

My heart started pounding, and my chest felt so tight that I could scarcely draw in a breath. "Wh-where's the ship?" I sputtered.

"I don't know," he said. He noticed some sort of guard hut at the water's edge, and we hurried over.

A uniformed officer spoke to us in Spanish.

"Where's the ship?" Byron asked.

"No hablo Inglés," he answered.

"The ship," I repeated, spreading my arms out wide and then pointing at the water. "Where is it?"

He pointed out to the horizon, where the ship was a tiny speck.

"What are we going to do?" I wailed, tears streaming.

"Un momento," the officer said, holding up one hand as he spoke into his radio.

A couple of minutes later, a tiny motorboat pulled up to the wooden dock, and the officer herded us over. He spoke to the driver and another officer, probably telling them about these foolish Americans who were too careless to get back to the boat before it embarked. The driver gestured to Byron, who clambered into the boat and held out a hand to me. I hesitated for a moment, but then the officer on the dock took my elbow and helped me down onto the bobbing boat.

I huddled next to Byron on the hard bench, my heart fluttering as we chased after the ship through the choppy water. Shouldn't we be wearing life jackets?

At last we pulled alongside the ship, so massive next to this toy motorboat. "How on earth will we get onboard?" I asked no one in particular.

Just then, a hatch swung open about halfway up the ship's hull, about 25-30 feet up. Next, a rope ladder unfurled down the side of the ship. No way!

Yes way. Our driver maneuvered the boat right up to the ship and pointed at the ladder, which moved up and down just like our boat, only not at the same time. I stood up on rubbery legs. "Wait!" I said, leaning to whisper in Byron's ear. "Do you think we need to pay them?"

"Vámanos," said the officer, taking my arm and nudging me toward the ladder.

I slung my shopping bag over my shoulder and grabbed a rung with both hands, my knuckles brushing against the cool metal. Holding my breath, I groped for a lower rung with one flip flop and then the other. I clung to the ladder for a moment, stock still against the solid, relatively stationary hull. 

"Come on up. You'll be fine."

I looked up into the eyes of a man leaning casually out the hatch and reaching a hand down toward me. And then I saw some fellow passengers watching us from the deck railing, laughing and shouting and pointing.

I inched up that ladder and into the hatch, almost collapsing in relief when I stepped inside. But the man didn't even wait for Byron to make it up the ladder before commencing his lecture. I honestly didn't hear much of what he said but it was something about "Do you know how much money you cost us?" and "Did you not hear that we were departing at 3:00?"

As soon as I could get a word in edgewise, I said, "B-but I don't understand. It was only 2:30. They said 3:00."

He looked at me like I was crazy. "No-o. It's Three-forty-five now."

I looked at my watch. "No, it's 2:45."

"You forgot to set your watches back this morning," he said as he led us through the bowels of the ship, past twitching boilers and humming gears, to an elevator.

"No one told us to set our watches back," I said. "And I don't think it was in the bulletin. How were we supposed to-"

Byron took my arm. "Come on, Sarah."

"But we didn't forget. No one told us," I repeated.

"Just don't let it happen again." The man turned on his heel and walked away without a backward glance.

I leaned against the side of the elevator and sobbed.

"It's okay," Byron said. "We're fine. We didn't get left behind."

"I just need a n-nap," I said.

After a nap and a warm shower, I felt ready to face dinner. But I was not prepared for our reception up on deck. Some passengers laughed and slapped us on the back while others just pointed and whispered. "That's the couple who missed the boat!"

Over dinner, Thomas and Julie explained that at least two other couples had been late for the same reason; not all the groups had been informed about the time change. They'd had to let the gangplank back down twice. This was very lucky for us; without that delay the boat would have been out to sea.

For the rest of the trip, we were greeted like celebrities. After I'd had a good night's sleep, I had to admit that I rather enjoyed the attention.

I wonder if even the captain knew about us. If he did, he didn't say so.

So now you know what it feels like to miss the boat. May it never happen to you!

Odds and Ends

I have lots to tell you about a trip to Indiana last week, but first I need to post some more Vancouver pictures and tell you a couple stories I've been saving up...
We met our newest niece, Mila, on Christmas day:



Bill's sister Lisa rented a skating rink on New Year's Eve for a game of ringette, which is similar to hockey.

Lisa, Shortly Before Bill "Shoved Her into the Boards"

Lisa's Daughter Katie, in her Ringette Gear

Daddy Took Allyson for a Spin or Two

Nana Enjoyed Snuggling Little Mila

Ethan Scored a Couple Goals - I Had No Idea He Could Skate So Well!

Emily Who?
Katie got a cake pop maker for Christmas, and we decided to try it out on New Year's Eve.

"This isn't so bad at all!" I commented, though Lisa was doing all the work. (We shooed the girls out of the kitchen and told them they could help dip the balls once they were made.) It was so simple compared to how my sister Emily makes her amazing cake balls--bake a cake, swirl it with icing, scoop out the balls, freeze them, dip in chocolate.

We didn't bother to read the directions when we melted the chocolates on a double boiler, and they ended up really globby. But there was no way we were throwing out all that chocolate. Lisa stirred in some milk or cream to thin it out, and we laboriously dipped the cake balls in the lumpy coating.

I had a new respect for Emily when I saw the contrast between her work and ours:

 But our second batch, which we melted in the microwave, came out much better.

"Emily who?" said Lisa.

 When the girls asked to help dip the third batch, we shooed them out again. "You can help decorate," Lisa promised.

They put on loads of sparkles and crushed peppermints.

They were even more delicious than they looked. Yum! But Bill laughed at how we spent two or three hours on them. Lisa said the infomercial never mentioned anything about three hours. Time well spent, if you ask me. I personally enjoyed about 10 of them (over the course of days).

Walk on the Beach
On our last full day in Vancouver, we went to White Rock Beach around sunset. Gorgeous!

Bill's Brother Trevor, Nephew James, Niece Katie, Bill, Allyson

Allyson Was So Beautiful in this Purple Coat - Took My Breath Away

And in Bread Machine News...
I finally baked a perfect gluten-free loaf! Remember all those problems I had trying to bake a loaf by hand? Well my beloved new bread machine makes it ridiculously easy. I just ground my brown rice and dumped it all in. Yum!

Too Bad I Still Haven't Mastered Slicing Bread

Howdy, Pardner!
Allyson had Western Day in Kindergarten today. She was so excited as she gathered up her costume over the last few days.

It was a mighty fine day!