God Still Speaks, part three

Another week passed. I was in the usual rush for work but decided to race one last time upstairs to grab a CD to listen to in the car. (Enter rant) Yes, I still listen to CDs, regularly, although I have recently agreed at least to stop buying them. What can I say, I guess I like buying tangible objects? Needless to say, I just can't seem to get my music together. Part of me wants needs to put all of my CDs, meaning every single one, on iTunes. But who has the time or the hard drive for that? Being the perfectionist that I am, I can't just pick some of my favorite songs, so then I question why should I even start if I can't do it right? Then there is also the complication with having CD players in my car and on my desk at work. They still play music perfectly yet I feel commercial pressure to replace them because my life will be "easier" if I do. The insanity!  But this is all beside the point. (Exit rant)

I didn't have time to think about it and Storyhill (aka Chris & Johnny...anyone? I'd be very surprised if anyone reading this has heard of them before) practically jumped into my hands. The CD I have is titled "This Side of Lost," it is a very random CD that I aquired after hearing them in a coffee shop about 14 years ago now while I was in college. After all.these.years. I still enjoy listening to this album. Maybe I haven't tired of it because I don't listen to it very often? It seems to make it off the shelf at least once a year as I have mentally categorized it as one of my favorite "fall" albums.  I ran back downstairs and was off to work.

I listened to it all the way to work and it continued to play again when I got in the car to go get some lunch. I wasn't paying too much attention to the music but then suddenly heard:

"You've been our anchor
You've been our beacon in the night
Through struggle and anger
You've shown a peaceful way to fight
Around your table
You brought together a family
I'm standing strong now
'Cause I once sat on your knee"

-Lyrics to "Old Sea Capitan" by Storyhill

A song I have heard many times but up until that day had never paid attention to the words. I remember a big smile coming across my face as I realized how obvious it was now that God was telling me something.

To be continued...

You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.
Jeremiah 29:13

God Still Speaks, part two

:: the book ::

The week following dad's funeral, I set out to a local Christian bookstore to find some reading material on death and the grieving process. I didn't have anything in mind and I didn't really know where to start. I wandered to the section on grief. I scanned the books in the section for those about death, picking up anything that had a cover that looked appealing. I found a book compiled by author Nancy Guthrie that looked like it would suffice and headed to the checkout. As I was waiting, I re-read the back cover and realized that the author had a preceding book that boasted translation into several languages, "Holding on to Hope: A Pathway through Suffering to the Heart of God." Hmmmm...on second thought, maybe I should start with the first book? The title said it all.

I was having difficulty locating it on the shelves, so I walked up to the help desk to see if someone else could locate it for me. The woman kindly told me that it was out of stock but she could order it for me. Let's face it, I live in 'generation now' and although the thought of reading a book on my iPhone still makes me scowl, mail order was not good enough. I decided to try a few other stores first. Barnes & Noble was the next place I checked - none at either location in town. Humph...the library? I guess I can settle for borrowing it if it means that I get it faster. Nope, neither library that I have cards for had it. As I struggled to locate a copy, I decided it was a sign that I really needed to read this book! I called Dan in a panic. He talked me down and then into ordering it on half.com. Thankfully, just as fast as he ordered it he received an email confirming same day shipping. I wasn't thrilled about waiting but thought I could get by for a few days. It took TEN DAYS for the book to get to my house. So for those of you who may have wondered this before, I have come to the conclusion that The Pony Express is still used in some parts of The United States.

I opened the cover and began to read. Below is what I found printed inside the page to the introduction (and the first sign that I believe I really was meant to read this exact book):

"Hope is symbolized in Christian iconography by an anchor. And what does an anchor do? It keeps the ship on course when wind and waves rage against it. But the anchor of hope is sunk in heaven not on earth."

-Gregory Floyd, A Grief Unveiled

Aha. That explains it. Faith, Hope, and Love are the symbols on my charm. It all makes perfect sense! Why didn't I think of that before? I have absolutely no idea why I didn't, and I have to admit that the word "duh" came to mind after I read the excerpt. I don't feel too bad though because my girlfriends also did not know that the anchor was a representation of hope! I love my charm so much more this way because I had the chance to attach my own personal meanings to it first.

To be continued...

You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.
Jeremiah 29:13

God Still Speaks, part one

My dad unexpectedly passed away on August 30th. It has been almost three months now and for some reason I feel ready to write again. My dad always loved reading the stories on my blogs and although he never figured out how to leave a comment, he always called me after reading and we would laugh together recalling the events. He won't be calling me after I post this, and that is hard to accept. I have had so many emotions since I first heard that he was gone.

I'm happy; that we had the relationship that we did and I don't have any big regrets. I had the blessing of spending the day with my dad the day before he passed away and I remember very clearly that the last thing I did was give him a big hug, kiss him on the cheek, and tell him that I love him. I didn't have to search my memory banks trying to remember; I was and will always be very conscious of that last moment. I have always been a daddy's girl. My dad knew me, I knew him and we enjoyed spending time together. We were so good at making each other laugh.

I'm angry; that he is gone. How he died. It was at least 20 years early. Why him God? Why now? I wasn't ready.

I'm sad; I can't call him anymore, not at any time or for whatever I need. He is gone. I wish I could remember everything he ever said to me. I think about him and I stop breathing. My heart has a constant ache; in fact I now truly understand what it means to have a "heavy heart." Hannah remembers him now, but I know that won't last forever, and for future grandchildren dad won't be there to welcome them to our family. He will not be there to sing "Grandpa loves a her!" or say "Well...hi!" and click click click to make her smile. (What a baby hog he was!)

I'm thankful; I had 14 adult years with my dad. He was there for many of my happiest moments, like when I bought my first car, my first Jeep, and when I graduated from college. He was there to answer the call from Dan asking for his blessing to marry me. He was there to walk me down the aisle, lift my veil over my head and give me away. I have pictures of dad and me at my wedding smiling from ear to ear. He was there when we built our house and it was in that driveway where he stood waiting for us when we arrived home from the hospital with Hannah. He celebrated life right along with us.

I'm unsure; Yes it happened. I have to tell myself that over and over like I'm schizo or something. It was not just a bad dream. He is gone.

I'm scared; they are big shoes to fill. I don't feel capable. First Grandpa Netley, then Grandma Netley, and now dad - the three biggest Christian influences in my life - all of them have now passed. This Christmas will be the first without grandma and dad.

Amidst these emotions and more, I have been talking a lot to God, more than I used to. I am hearing His voice.

:: the charm ::

On the night of my dad's prayer service, I received a special gift in memory of my dad. Some of my best friends drove all the way from Des Moines to the little Adaville Methodist church near Akron Iowa where my dad grew up. They brought me the gift, a charm for my Pandora bracelet. They knew the history behind my bracelet and that my dad, the collector that he was, had been the one that had most encouraged me to fill my bracelet with charms. The charm they gave me was silver and inscribed in it was a cross, a heart, and an anchor. They explained to me that the cross was to represent our Christian faith, the heart our love for each other, and the anchor was a symbol of the memories spent with dad up at the lake. It was perfect. That evening I carefully threaded it on my bracelet.

The more I thought about it throughout that sleepless night; I decided that really the anchor was a representation for who my dad was. He was the anchor. The next day as we stood in church waiting for the funeral service to begin, I leaned over to my stepmom and told her about the charm and what the symbols each represented to me. She squeezed my hand in agreement.

You can imagine my surprise when during the funeral the pastor said:

"The truth of God's word is an anchor for our soul, it's what we need, giving us strength for today and hope for tomorrow."

I heard the word "anchor" and sat up a little. Was it just a coincidence? It's not like we reference anchors very often...it was so special to me. After hearing this the charm was even more meaningful to me. The next week when I returned to work, I wrote my friends an email stating that I was so grateful to them for the gift and that not only was it symbolic of our memories up at the lake, or that my dad was the anchor, but that at the funeral I had been reminded that the bible is also our anchor. The charm will not only remind me of my dad but that I have my heavenly father's written word to comfort me until we meet again.

To be continued...

You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.
Jeremiah 29:13

prayer for today

God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.

Living one day at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
Taking, as He did, this sinful world
as it is, not as I would have it;
Trusting that He will make all things right
if I surrender to His Will;
That I may be reasonably happy in this life
and supremely happy with Him
Forever in the next.
Amen.

--Reinhold Niebuhr

Senior Year part 3

Eleven years ago today: Monday, August 23, 1999. It was my twenty second birthday and the day I really knew it was love. Dan had been in Iowa City helping me move into my new apartment the past weekend but had to leave on Sunday to go back to Ames to take care of his own living situation and prepare for his classes at Iowa State that would soon begin. We said goodbye and planned to meet up the next weekend again, as our plan was just to take one week at a time. Neither of us was looking forward to the long distance part of our relationship but we both wanted to make it work. Lucky for us traffic rolls at an average of 80mph on I-80, keeping the drive between Iowa City and Ames under two hours (actually well under two hours but don't tell my dad I said that).

It was early evening and I was standing in the living room talking to one of my new roomates and her boyfriend when all of the sudden I see Dan walk by our living room window. I wondered if I was just seeing things for a second but knew it had to be him as he was wearing his favorite mustard yellow Abercrombie baseball hat, a ringer T, jeans, and (I'm sure they were) shiny white sneakers. In his arms were a dozen roses. "Surprise! Happy Birthday!" he said as he walked in the door and handed me the flowers. He said it with his laughing smile, knowing that a surprise it was. My roomate and I stood with our jaws dropped in total shock, I remember her saying "You were just here!" and going on and on about what a great surprise it was. Her boyfriend smiled and just shook his head. It could have been because it was obvious Dan was smitten and he knew he wouldn't hear the end of it from his girlfriend for months, or maybe it was for the same reason as me...as I was holding a bouquet of crimson and yellow, the colors of rival ISU. I changed into less scrubby clothes and just like that a seemingly uneventful birthday became a night out on the town with the person I most wanted to spend it with.

This bold move was more than just a nice gesture, it was the true starting point of our relationship. Although things had much improved over the summer, I was still a little unsure if he loved me and if he was willing to make the commitment to be with me alone. This was how he told me that he was. From this point on we spent our weekdays working really hard so that we could spend our weekends together without having to work or focus on schoolwork. We spent every single weekend of my senior year together, alternating mainly based on family events and twenty first birthday parties. We spent our time between Iowa City, Ames, Sioux City, and Pomeroy; always together.

I wondered what it would be like between us when our relationship existed away from the sheltered church camp environment where we met. It was a fact; we didn't know much at all about each others lives outside if camp. There had been very few if any opportunities to meet extended family and friends. I imagined the reaction his Pomeroy friends would have when they heard we were dating...I pictured them all standing around their tractors shaking fingers at Dan in disbelief and saying (with heavy twang) "But she's from the city!" Looking back now that makes me laugh so hard. I couldn't have been more wrong! Slowly we made the transition to "normal" life and the more I spent with Dan, his friends, his family, the more I loved him.

More than halfway

Not that I'm counting or anything but this is just your friendly reminder that we are more than halfway to CHRISTMAS! (enter whistle...It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year). And, I'm starting on my (non-edible) handmade gifts early. I can't wait to get started. It is going to be nuts - as in nutcrackers and chestnuts roasting on an open fire nuts. And if the spirit of Christmas moves me, I might just listen to a little Mannheim while I'm working on my gifts. It's Christmas in July!!

The Sidelines

On Saturday, June 5th, 2010 Dan ran the infamous (around here anyway) “Dam to Dam” 20K Race. Hannah and I woke up at 4:30am to drive him to the shuttle stop where he would catch a ride to the start. We planned to wait at both mile four and near the finish to cheer him on, however the steady falling drops of rain made me wonder how I, or rather how I and a two year old, were going to manage.

I admit it; I’m not always the most punctual person. For many things it doesn’t seem to matter all that much, certainly not enough for me to change my bad habit, but today I knew if we were late by even a few seconds, we could miss him. With that in mind, I figured that going home before the 7:00am start was not a good idea. I would be sure to greatly under estimate the time needed to drive there, get stuck in traffic, arrive on time but have nowhere to park, or worse yet, fall back asleep and miss entirely. I didn’t want any of that to happen so instead we went for a little drive to Ankeny to kill some time. First stop – Wal-Mart. We were in desperate need of a couple umbrellas. Hannah was dressed for the occasion wearing her green froggy rain boots and light pink rain coat but I thought that she really could use an umbrella to complete the look, not to mention a new object might hold her attention for five minutes. We shopped quickly and found the perfect pair – a large black umbrella for myself and a child-sized variety in Hannah’s favorite shades of pink.

One of the most important things to do to keep my child happy is to keep her belly full. With plenty of time to spare we decided that even though it was early we were hungry. Isn’t it funny how that works? As we parked the car, we thanked God for senior citizens because without them IHOP wouldn’t have been open at that forsaken hour of the morning. I ordered the smiley face pancake complete with strawberry eyes and a grin of banana slices for myself and the short stack for Hannah. I wish! Lucky Hannah! The pancakes swelled our bellies beyond capacity and mommy got her coffee. We were happily off to mile marker four.

The rain continued to fall but it wasn’t enough to keep us away or to keep the runners from running. We crossed the street and found an open spot to stand where we thought Daddy would see us and began to wait as the rain gently fell from the sky. I set Hannah down to her feet and she looked at me curiously. I wondered why she looked confused and told her it was ok to splash around. And then I realized as I watched the look of amazement on her face that today was her first day playing in the rain. I tried not to choke on my guilt. My daughter is two and has never played in the rain. Time seemed to stand still as I watched her hold her umbrella over her shoulder and look in wonder down at her boots splashing in the puddles. It may have been late, but I was there for it.

We scanned the faces of the runners as fast as we could, knowing that daddy would be running by any minute. With the race capped at 8,000 runners, we couldn’t afford to look away for even a second. It was then that I heard the dreadful word. You know the one. P-O-T-T-Y. I ignored it. She said it again, and then I made her say it three more times just to be sure it was what she was really saying. I picked her up, told her that we would go find one soon and hoped that she didn’t pee on me. Luckily we soon saw daddy’s smiling face running toward us. We smiled big waving violently and instead of a baton, we passed him the GU.

I wondered when we arrived why almost everyone was standing on the opposite side of the street, the outside of the corner, where I though it would be harder to see the faces of the runners. Now I knew why. Crossing the runners would be an obstacle under normal circumstances, not to mention in a downpour with a two year old and two umbrellas. We waited and waited for a quick break in the massive crowd but knowing that she was likely to pee on me any second I decided it was best to fold up the umbrellas and make a run for it. It was in the opposite direction of our car, but we ran with traffic and eased our way across the street being careful as could be not to cut any of the runners off. Whew - we made it to the potty in time!

Final destination - finish line. While I drove downtown I fought off nightmarish thoughts…you greatly under estimated the time needed to drive there, you’re going to get stuck in traffic, you will arrive on time but have nowhere to park…It wasn’t so bad until we got close and then I couldn’t find a place where I could cross the street; everything was blocked off for the runners to pass through. I finally found what I thought was a spot to cross only to quickly discover that I had pulled onto a dead end street. Amy you idiot. Luckily there were cars packed in like sardines on both sides of the street with barely enough space for me to squeeze through and it only took a half an hour to do a twenty point turn in my large white Tahoe and then as I’m starting to drive out another car pulls in, realizes the same thing and then takes what seemed like twenty minutes to reverse out. It’s a good thing they were looking over their shoulder as they backed out because I’m pretty sure the look on my face read I WILL RUN YOU OVER. I closed my eyes and exhaled loudly out of my nose.

We soon found our way. With the race and the ever popular farmer’s market going on at the same time downtown – parking was indeed nonexistent. Don’t panic. It was best to stop wasting time looking for a close parking place. The last thing I needed was getting stuck behind a Buick creeping through a parking ramp, driving through each and every level pausing every time a spot appears to be open or someone appears to be leaving only to discover that there are no spots available in the entire ramp. Yes, I am speaking from past experience! (Dam to Dam 2009). Instead we drove farther away where I knew we could find a spot and walk/run to the finish.

Watch out people – crazy mom on the run! The words didn’t even have to come out of my mouth, people just knew. We dodged people, dogs, cats on leashes, and everything else you see downtown on any given Saturday in the summer. The humiliation of running with a non-jogging stroller was worth it because we made it. We saw Daddy’s big finish! We cheered and clapped, we were so proud of him! Not only did he finish his first 20K but he did it in the rain. I was also proud of Hannah and myself; we had finished a race of our own. To celebrate, we met Daddy at the Nollen Plaza fountain. Hannah looked at me in amazement as I rolled up her jeans and told her to splash around with the other kids (including me)! I was there for it.

:: note ::

Before I started writing this I thought I was taking a different approach. I was going to talk about how difficult it can be to stand on the sidelines. Even though I can be extremely happy for someone else, at the same time I often think “I wish that was me.” And on this particular day I was standing there happy for Dan, but at the same time wishing I would have ran it. It made me think about how it isn’t always easy to be on the sidelines…Poor me.  But then I wrote it down and I recalled the joy I felt that day. How proud I am to be Dan’s wife and Hannah’s mother and what a good day it was, just as it was.

Light shines on the godly,
and joy on those whose hearts who are right
Psalm 97:11

Book Study: Reflections on “Mere Christianity”

I was particularly curious as I flipped through the preface while standing in the religious section at Barnes & Noble debating if this was the next book for me to read. I’d never read anything by C.S. Lewis before. I’ve heard it referenced occasionally in sermons at church and for that reason “Mere Christianity” just seemed like one of those “If You are a Christian You Have to Read It” books. I was also interested in the C.S. Lewis section because I’m always drawn to authors and books that have been made into a movie and therefore was also considering “The Chronicles of Narnia.” If someone wants to make a movie out of a book, then the book must be good. I decided on “Mere Christianity,” and then begged Mel, Debbie, & Aimee to read it with me. Luckily it didn’t take much convincing, they are awesome like that! We finished it last Thursday. It was quite a read, different from any book I have ever read. 

I was captivated after reading the foreword. The book is broken out into sections that were originally a series of radio talks by C.S. Lewis. Not just any radio talks, these were broadcasted from 1942-1944 to men at war, men that knew their chance of survival was slim. They knew they were about to lose their lives. Just what does someone say to another in that situation? Thank God it wasn’t me, because “Baaaaaa…” is all that comes to mind. I was also intrigued by the fact that C.S. Lewis himself at one time was an atheist, and I find it interesting to read through another’s conclusions as to why God is real.

I have to say honestly that this book is above my intelligence. Thank goodness for my study group, talking through it with them was so helpful. Many times I had to read and reread to understand what he was saying. It’s not just the comprehension either; Lewis writes about things that I have never have thought about; never even felt a need to think about. The thought of proving this is this because it was based on that and if this is true then that ….no, these things never ever cross my puny little mind. It’s just not me! Although it took awhile to get through it, and I’m not sure how much of it I will retain, I did enjoy reading it. There are a few points that really stuck with me that I would like to highlight.

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Book 2 : What Christians Believe - Chapter 4: The Perfect Penitent
“I have heard some people complain that if Jesus was God as well as man, then His sufferings and death lose all value in their eyes, ‘because it must have been so easy for Him’. Others may (very rightly) rebuke the ingratitude and ungraciousness of this objection; what staggers me is the misunderstanding it betrays. In one sense, of course, those who make it are right. They have even understated their own case. The perfect submission, the perfect suffering, the perfect death were not only easier to Jesus because He was God, but were possible only because He was God. But surely that is a very odd reason for not accepting them? … If I am drowning in a rapid river, a man who still has one foot on the bank may give me a hand which saves my life. Ought I shout back (between my gasps) ‘No, it’s not fair! You have an advantage! You’re keeping one foot on the bank’? That advantage – call it ‘unfair’ if you like – is the only reason why he can be of any use to me. To what will you look for help if you will not look to that which is stronger than yourself?"
--------------------------
Book 3: Christian Behaviour – Chapter 6: Christian Marriage
“This is, I think, one little part of what Christ meant by saying that a thing will not really live unless it first dies. It is simply no good trying to keep any thrill: that is the very worst thing you can do. Let the thrill go – let it die away – go on through that period of death into the quieter interest and happiness that follow – and you will find that you are living in a world of new thrills all the time. But if you decide to make thrills your regular diet and try to prolong them artificially, they will all get weaker and weaker, and fewer and fewer, and you will be a bored, disillusioned old man for the rest of your life. It is because so few people understand this that you find many youth, at the very age when new horizons ought to be appearing and new doors opening all round them. It is much better fun to learn to swim than to go on endlessly (and hopelessly) trying to get back to the feeling you had when you first went paddling as a small boy.”
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Book 4: Beyond Personality Or First Steps In The Doctrine Of The Trinity - Chapter 10: Nice People or New Men
“Do you not see why? Christ said ‘Blessed are the poor’ and ‘How hard it is for the rich to enter the Kingdom,’ and no doubt He primarily meant the economically rich and economically poor. But do not His words also apply to another kind of riches and poverty? One of the dangers of having a lot of money is that you may be quite satisfied with the kinds of happiness money can give and so fail to realise your need for God. If everything seems to come simply by signing cheques, you may forget that you are at every moment totally dependent on God.”
---------------------------

The consensus is that you should read it if you haven’t. I know I am thinking more seriously now about reading “The Chronicles of Narnia” with Hannah when she is a little older. But as for our book study, I think we’ll mix it up because we deserve a lighter read. Next up… “All I Need is Jesus and a Good Pair of Jeans” by Susanna Foth Aughtmon.

Senior Year; part 2

I was very anxious to get back to Iowa City in the fall of ’99 to start my senior year. If you hadn’t guessed it, Dan was the boy that followed me from camp. It was obvious to us that we were compatible and both really liked each other; however we had previously gone through some ups and downs. So we talked. Like adults. (It was crazy). I was surprised to hear the words come out of my mouth because I really, really liked him and didn’t want to, but near the end of the summer I told him exactly how I felt. I said that I liked him, but I was tired of the game. Simply put; I was moving on. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what happened. From that moment on, we were inseparable.

I have to admit, having a boyfriend came in handy when I moved into my new apartment. And that was one of the many reasons (after moving my stuff NINE times in THREE years between summer camp, dormitories, and apartments) my dad really liked him too. My new apartment was on the corner of Church and Dubuque Street and I shared it with two new roommates. A major benefit to my new place was the much shorter walk to and from the Art building. I would still look goofy carrying 18”x24” drawing pads of paper, art projects, my design tool tackle box and portfolios to class, but it would be much easier. My new apartment was also one of those places I mentioned in Part 1 that had parking spots available for rent. And by now, I saw the advantage to renting one. Why wouldn’t I want a VIP spot? Heck yes. Of course I also thoroughly enjoyed the adrenaline rush upon returning to my apartment to see some fool (probably some dumb freshman girl) parked in my spot, subsequently requiring me to call a tow truck, show them my signed lease and rightful ownership of the spot, and have her ass towed. Heh heh. I miss that. I do. I really do.

My art classes would include drawing, painting, and design. By this point I had eliminated all of the required puke coursework so what was left to finish up was my favorite types of art classes and gym. It was awesome. This year there was a married couple from Montana visiting as art instructors, and I am so thankful for them: Terry Carson and Sara Mast. Terry was my professor for “Life Drawing” and Sara for “Painting I.” In all my years of school they are the two teachers that stand out; they are the two that I will always remember. I’m sure they had a similar impact on all of their students, but I especially felt like when I was in their class they were teaching to me alone; they were speaking just to me.

In “Life Drawing” we spent our class period drawing the human body in the naked form. Yes, I have seen lots of people naked and drawn them. Yes, completely naked including their boobies and pee-pees. When I tell most people this first their eyes get all big, they gasp, and then snicker. It just seems ridiculous to most. The truth is that I owe a lot to those models. Without them I wouldn’t have been able to learn how to draw the human form. Through the semester I gained an appreciation for the human body and learned to see it as a work of art.

Terry encouraged me at each class, giving me constructive criticism when I needed it. I started to notice that when I tried to draw perfectly or like the others in my class, he didn’t approve. He liked it when I drew the way that I wanted to; fast, big, always with charcoal, smudging and blending with my fingers and an eraser. Through class discussions and reviews I gained confidence in my drawing abilities. I still remember the day back when I first arrived at Iowa and ran into a friend and talented artist who was in the Art Education program. We were talking about our art projects and he told me that artistic talent is not hereditary. I was shocked to hear that because I had assumed he was just born with the ability to draw. “You learn the skills, and you learn to see things differently,” he told me. That was happening to me.

“Painting I” was a totally new experience for me. Outside of walls, furniture, and some camp signage, I had not painted since I was a kid. Our primary medium was oil paints. We painted both on paper and canvases that we learned how to prepare ourselves. To this day I love to assemble and gesso my own canvas. For that reason I will never buy one that is “ready-made.” If you know me well, this shouldn’t come as surprise.

I was thrilled for the chance to use color in painting. None of my previous art classes involved color. For design we created black and white technical drawings, and for drawing classes we used black charcoal. Color was new and exciting. I found myself intimidated at first but it became empowering. I am the artist; I can use the colors I want to. I loved making my own rules; altering and replacing colors as I chose, using swift strokes of paint and understated lines to create form. Just as Terry encouraged me to do things with my own style, Sara provided the same type of encouragement. I noticed that of my paintings, the ones that I painted quickly (Maybe because I procrastinated on the assignment?) were her favorite. I soon realized that it was because when I painted quickly I didn’t over think it.

The freedom of loose expression in drawing and painting were balanced by rigidity and problem solving in my design classes. I needed both. My final design class was titled “Problems in Design: Form and Function.” My instructor’s name was Cory; I had him for a couple of other design classes already so I knew his teaching style well. All of my design classes presented a challenge of some sort; I particularly enjoyed the challenges he presented in this class emphasizing the necessity that a design not only be appealing but also serve its purpose. Make a chair out of cardboard. I knew fully well that he had to be able to sit in it. Build a bridge out of a single repeating block. The catch - it must support a bucket of sand hanging from it. The projects almost always required annoying trips to Menards for plywood, dowels, wire, etc. I had a slight advantage in the class having a boyfriend that worked construction! I would show Dan my sketches and he wouldn’t try to change my design or do (much of) the work for me, but he would help me find the best materials and tools that I needed.

At the end of each design class we were required to turn in a portfolio, which counted for the majority of our grade. You could skip every class if you wanted to, but you had to be able to complete the portfolio (which would be difficult even if you missed one class). It included slides that we were to have taken of each project created, along with absolutely perfect photocopies of the line drawings of the forms. It took a ridiculous amount of time, bottles of white-out, and many trips to Kinkos to assemble all necessary parts of the portfolio. They were so time consuming in fact that the previous year I made a little call to Bath and Body Works and quit my job over the phone because I didn’t have enough time that week to both work and complete a design portfolio. (I can still hear my manager’s self righteous voice “You will never work for Bath and Body Works or a Bath and Body Works affiliated company again!” Darn). The portfolio was a lot of work, but it was such a sense of accomplishment when finished. With this design class I felt that more than with any other as I opened my portfolio and saw an ‘A+’ scribbled in Cory’s handwriting. It wasn’t a grade normally given, especially by him. It was the frosting on my cake.

Senior Year; part 1

After thirty two years, if I had to pick one year of my life where I experienced the most discovery of self - without a doubt it was my senior year of college. It was back in ’99-’00. I had spent the previous year adapting to some very big changes. My junior year was my first at The University of Iowa; Iowa City was new to me and much further away from home. I changed my field of study from Education to Art and instead of a dorm room; I lived in an apartment with two roommates. I definitely went through an adjustment period, and I’d say it took about a year.

This may sound silly but by the time my senior year rolled around I was adjusted to walking to and from class. Upon arrival to Iowa I immediately refused to drive my car or ride the bus to class. I had already been warned that driving was not a good idea because parking was a nightmare. In fact, parking was so scarce that many apartment complexes had to charge you a monthly fee for a parking spot. Rent your own parking spot? The idea was crazy to me. I didn’t ride the bus because: A. I’m just not a big fan of them and B. they seemed confusing and scary. So I walked and walked and walked, through the sun, rain, sleet, and snow. And when you have to walk over a large hill, it is uphill both ways. A brisk walk to the art building alone took about 20 - 25 minutes from my apartment at the end of South Johnston Street. Iowa is not like many campuses where the buildings are all clustered together so your only challenge is just getting to campus. Oh no. The campus is very spread out and by the end of an average day I had spent about two hours walking.

I was adjusted to a vegetarian diet. I have never really been a big fan of meat and living with two vegetarian roommates my junior year was just one more thing that swayed me. (I have since eaten meat again - although had a large aversion to meat when I was pregnant - but I go back and forth all the time about returning to a vegetarian diet.) People always ask how I ever found anything to eat, but I never had a problem finding non-meat items to fill me up and there were plenty of places in Iowa City serving delicious vegetarian meals.

I was adjusted to buying my own groceries, working part time, and paying bills (Although the real lesson of paying bills would come after graduation because it doesn’t really count when your parents are giving you a large portion of the money you pay the bills with. Wait…my parents helped me with my bills for awhile after graduation too. Crap. Never mind.) Of course some of the discovery of self comes about by realizing what is not for you and my junior year I tested out the world of working retail and found it to be among those things. Bath and Body Works may you and your over powering headache inducing aromas and round wooden apple picking baskets die in a fire.

I was fully adjusted to having divorced parents. Everything was finalized the spring of my sophomore year and by the time my junior year ended I had already muddled through feelings of loss; what it was like not to have a “home” anymore and sharing time between my parents. The second year was easier than the first; time was a huge part of the healing process. So by the time my senior year came, I was no longer sad about it all the time. About a year after the divorce my dad found a new love and Bev would become my stepmom in the fall of my senior year. I couldn’t have been happier that they found each other.

I was adjusted to being an adult. I survived my twenty first year, turning twenty two a week before my senior year began. At eighteen you might technically be an adult but everyone knows that twenty one is the real thing, with so much more to celebrate. We all know what that is! And can I mention that Iowa City is a great place to celebrate?

Lastly, I was adjusted to the fact that my summer camp days were over. I drove away from my fourth summer working at Twin Lakes Christian Center and I knew that I would not be returning for a fifth. Summer camp was one of the things I loved most and always proved to be a great experience. I looked forward to going every summer, so much that I would request to come early and spend a few weeks there working before the entire summer staff arrived. I knew it would not be possible for me to work there after graduation. I made many life long friendships and had so much fun spending my days lifeguarding and playing with kids at the lake. After four summers it was time to let go and leave it behind…well, at least most of it. That last summer, a significant boy followed me when I left.

Ten Minutes :: Into the Sun

10 Minutes

I saw a commercial once; I think it was for a cereal bar. I don’t remember the specifics including the brand of cereal bar – wait…was it a cereal bar? It was a healthy breakfast product of some sort. (Due to the fact that I can’t remember what product or brand name the commercial was for, I have to conclude that it might have been a BIG FAIL for their marketing campaign. It didn’t work for me anyway). However, I do remember the point and it stuck with me.

It first showed a person eating an unhealthy breakfast product; we will call it a breakfast burrito. Then for lunch they chose pizza and pop. And throughout the rest of the day, candy bars, junk food, more pop, etc, etc. Then it showed the same person starting off the day with their healthy breakfast product. For lunch they chose a salad and water, and they continued to make healthier food choices, fruits, vegetables, etc. throughout the rest of the day. And the ending statement was:

Because one healthy choice will lead to more healthy choices.

The commercial made me stop and think. It is true – and not just in regard to the food I eat. I can apply this also to my attitude and how I spend my time throughout the day. But what is one choice that I could make to potentially change the outcome of my day?

When I think about how my day usually begins, I am a little amazed that some days I actually do overcome my poor attitude. There is never enough time to get completely ready (confession: I frequently dry my hair in the car), the house is a disaster, the clothes I want to wear either aren’t clean or don’t exist in my wardrobe, the kitchen counters are covered with clutter and the sink is filled with dirty dishes, I don’t have anything to bring for lunch, and I’m late. This is how my day typically begins. If only I had 10 minutes alone - to be still and focus - before jumping into the craziness of my day. It sounds so easy, but it isn’t, for me at least. I have this thing I do where I like to make very simple things difficult. This is what it would take for me to have those 10 tiny, itsy bitsy, measly minutes:

• Energy to get out of bed instead of snoozing
• A child that doesn’t wake up when she hears my alarm or me sneaking downstairs
• A dog that stays quiet in my bedroom when I sneak downstairs
• A clean kitchen; which means that I have to clean up after making dinner the night before
• Breakfasts & lunches ready to go, otherwise I would just do that instead of the whole “be still and focus” thing; which means that I also have to do that the night before
• Plenty of time to get everyone ready and out the door so that I can actually relax and focus instead of just thinking about how late I’m going to be for work; which means I need to get up earlier

Could the 10 minutes really be worth all of this?

Last week I took about 10 minutes during my lunch break to read one chapter in a book that we are reading for my women’s bible study (I have only read the first few chapters and I already highly recommend the book if anyone is looking for a light and humorous read). My point is that those 10 minutes changed the rest of my week. And all it took was 10 minutes. This is what I read:

God who knows me and keeps me
Forgive me
Help me get over who I think I am
Help me let go of who I am not
Help me let you be who you are
Don’t ever leave me
Amen

These words have helped me to realize that I need to wake up - literally. I have been a little depressed and developed some really lazy habits. I’m not even going to blame it on the season, how much snow we have, or how dark it is at night. I have flat out been lazy. And I need to snap out of it because this isn’t who God designed me to be. I don’t want to be that mom that is so focused on the fact that she is running late that she backs out of the garage before she puts the door up. Or, while parallel parking she slams on the gas instead of the brake. Everyone knows that a mother’s mistakes while driving will haunt her for the rest of her life! (I know you are laughing because you are now recalling of all the dumb stuff your own mom did while driving). Looking over my list above, if I just did a little cleaning and made lunches at night – maybe that would be enough encouragement to wake up 10 minutes earlier? I’ll give it a try.

Stay tuned for random pictures of what I see in those 10 minutes.

In Plain Sight

And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.  Matthew 28:20

Lately I have had a lot of fun watching Hannah hide. I’m aware that encouraging this will come back to bite me someday (like when we are out in public and she decides to hide from me) but it’s so much fun! Soon after we get home for the day, we hear the garage door open, immediately look at each other and say “Daddy’s coming! Hide!” Hannah repeats “Hide, hide, hide” and runs off on twinkle toes as fast as she can. 

It is quite hilarious watching how she chooses to hide. Sometimes it’s pretty clever, like behind the lower level of hanging clothes in our bedroom closet. Other times, not so much. She throws a blanket over head with her legs and feet sticking out of the bottom, or stands tall behind her rocking chair that is shorter than she is. My personal favorite happened last week – while sitting naked on the potty she just covered her eyes with her hands. No matter where she is Daddy always pretends he doesn’t see her and walks around the house saying in his loud teacher-y voice “Where’s Hannah? I can’t find her… Is she under the couch? Nope. Is she in her room? Nope. Where is she?” This goes on until Hannah can no longer hold her squealing inside and Daddy shouts “There she is!” and he sweeps her up in his arms and hugs her tight. 

I’ve been thinking about this and how at times I think I am hiding from God.  Oddly enough it seems to happen when I shouldn’t be doing something that I am. I seem to forget that I am always in plain sight. I wonder if God humors me, playing along similar to how Dan does with Hannah. I imagine He does. “Where’s Amy? Is she at church? Nope…she’s not there. Is she reading her bible study book? Nope. Where is she?” Even though He wishes I wouldn’t try to choose when to include Him in my life and when not to, He accepts my imperfection and understands that I have a lot to learn. And the best part – knowing that when I seek Him it doesn’t matter how long it has been, He celebrates and welcomes me with open arms. “Wait…what’s that…There she is!!”

God hear my prayer. I don’t want to hide from you – I know that I can’t. Help me to remember what a blessing it is that you are always with me.

Excited about Poopy

We started potty “learning” this week and it has been a constant reminder that sometimes you just have to get excited about poopy! It’s a metaphor of sorts.

Maybe it’s just little stuff that is dragging you down, like missing the sunshine. Seasonal depression always looms around our house this time of year. Maybe you are sick and tired of being sick and tired. Maybe it is something bigger; a constant fear or loneliness. Maybe you are mourning a loss. Whatever it is that you may be going through, I’d like to share a verse that helps me:

James 1:2-4
“Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.”

I have read this verse many times but never have thought much about the word “perseverance.” Why was this word chosen? And, ultimately…why do we want to develop perseverance? I decided to look it up (source).

Perseverance (noun)
1. Steady persistence in a course of action, a purpose, a state, etc., especially in spite of difficulties, obstacles, or discouragement.

That’s what I thought it meant; nothing unexpected there. I looked at the synonyms on the thesaurus tab and there are many words listed that are very descriptive and appear appropriate substitutes. (I also learned a new word - - moxie - - but I don’t think I’ll ever use it because it just sounds dirty, doesn’t it? But you might want to just file that one mentally under “Words that you never use but come in handy when playing Scrabble/contain an X.”) I particularly like the ones in bold.

Backbone, constancy, continuance, cool, dedication, determination, doggedness, drive, endurance, grit, guts, immovability, indefatigability, moxie, persistence, pertinacity, pluck, prolonging, purposefulness, pursuance, resolution, sedulity, spunk, stamina, steadfastness, stick-to-itiveness, tenacity.

So what is different about “perseverance?” Looking even closer at the definition I see something more. I notice that it is the only one that also lists a theological definition.

Perseverance (noun)
2. Theology. Continuance in a state of grace to the end, leading to eternal salvation.


…that’s why.  And I think understanding that helps.  Do you agree?

Proverbs 3:5-6

Grandma Ninon passed away last Thursday.  She was 86 years old and lived a good long life.  Saying that she was a devout Christian her entire life is a big understatement.  Christ was the center of her world and every word or thing that she did showed that.  I received a letter from her in the mail the day after she died.  In her letters she would always write a verse in them for me to look up. 

Proverbs 3:5-6
Trust in the Lord with all your heart; do not depend on your own understanding.  Seek His will in all you do, and He will show you which path to take.

She couldn't have picked a better verse, it is so fitting.  I have been thinking a lot about her and her life and I am so struck by what an amazing woman she was.  First of all, just living 86 years is amazing.  "She was born in 1923 on the family farm" reads her obituary.  She was born on the family farm.  I have been thinking about all of the events that she lived through.  I wonder how many times the economy went from low to high to low again in the past 86 years.  I think about wars, presidents, and world events.  So much of what I read about in history class - she endured.

One of my family members shared at the prayer service that Grandma and Grandpa had survived a fire, losing everything that they owned.  I had heard about the fire, but not that they had lived in a chicken coop for a year to get by after that.  A chicken coop.  Next time I complain about anything I will try to remember this. 

"Ninon was preceeded in death by her parents; husband; four brothers; and a sister."  Everyone in her immediate family died before she did.  Imagine what that would be like.  She was married for 64 years before my grandpa passed away in 2006 and bravely faced those next almost four years of life without him by her side as he had been every second before he passed.  How do you live with someone every day for 64 years and then suddenly carry on without them?

And through all of this she carried a smile on her face.  I don't remember seeing her without a smile on her face.  Ever.  Ever.  In fact, we don't remember Grandma Ninon ever crying, unless she got to laughing so hard that tears started to roll down her face (which at times was followed by her peeing her pants).  She saw every experience in a positive way, fully trusting that God had a plan for her life.  Her faith, talking to God, and praying for others was always the most important thing.  Throughout everything.

Five minutes before her last breath we are told by the staff at the nursing home that the french doors leading out to the courtyard that are always locked (it was nighttime and the courtyard is full of snow) suddenly blew open.  We all know that angels were coming to take her home.  Goodbye for now Grandma, I will see you again someday.  Until that day I pray that I can have faith like yours.

Pure Simple Joy

This past year it happened to be Saturday October 10th. No way. I looked out of the window first in disbelief, and then in sheer excitement. “IT SNOWED!” I shouted it through my house as I laughed, then I picked up Hannah and spun her around turning her look of confusion to a big smile. There was an entire eighth of an inch of snow on the ground, but it had blown and drifted into the creases of my patio chairs to what appeared in my exaggerative nature to be at least an inch deep. YESSSSS! I immediately sent my dad a text message to tell him the good news. He sent me back a picture of snow on his porch as well. The news was all over Facebook. It was impossible to wipe the smile off my face. 

In that moment nothing else mattered.

If only I could save that feeling in a jar and open it every morning. While I can’t do that, I am trying to focus on having pure simple joy; a joy that isn’t bound by age, possessions, a job title, or circumstance. Someday, I will look back on my life and if I wasn’t able to say that I had joy…what a regret that would be. I hope to share that joy with you through what I write and my photography on this blog.