tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-300757992024-03-07T17:02:46.476-06:00Floccinaucinihilipilification“We have the present...?”
“So has the butterfly. But I would rather be a caterpillar with a future.” --George MacDonaldRuthhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10236253702237918037noreply@blogger.comBlogger70125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30075799.post-5041926035467424222012-06-08T02:20:00.000-05:002012-06-08T02:26:00.637-05:00Durban ho!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5gnFH6LZnoO2BNhmdRqozczyu6utG4tQGqRPpWRYkfYQniU8SRbqEK8zsux1yuAPAVF4cet5oj-_dcCpSTgB-KSFdQiCxeb-4uRQUAPNRdeE1-OvonG3yiHjCyJji_Itpl33X/s1600/1-IMG_3488+(2).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5gnFH6LZnoO2BNhmdRqozczyu6utG4tQGqRPpWRYkfYQniU8SRbqEK8zsux1yuAPAVF4cet5oj-_dcCpSTgB-KSFdQiCxeb-4uRQUAPNRdeE1-OvonG3yiHjCyJji_Itpl33X/s320/1-IMG_3488+(2).JPG" width="213" /></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">A long ride in the mini-bus and we arrived in that
Indian-flavoured African city.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The city is
beautiful – but I’ll let the pictures tell you firsthand of the stately
buildings, Zulu dances (carefully censored so Curt & I don’t have to dress anyone in magic-marker swimsuits), and many Indians (apparently the
largest concentration outside of India itself.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Aaron had his beautiful DSLR Canon along, and whenever we cracked it out
for pictures we felt every eye gawking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In a place where people are killed for their shoes, we felt it was
something of a liability.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And perhaps
that’s why we were a little less careful of my camera –take note.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anyways, we hightailed it for the ocean and
spent that afternoon in salty sunlight, tossed about in the Indian O's warm
surf.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We eventually emerged to discover
that my camera, left under the eye of the lifeguards, was gone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was foolish of me and I’m sorry to you,
Dad & Mom, who gave me the camera.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
also lost many pictures, and there will be none for the remainder of the
trip :(<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nonetheless a good
curry dinner cheered things up a little, and we scuttled off to a hotel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Metro
Lodge</i> had the luxury of toilet seats (the first we’d looked at didn’t!) and
we booked two rooms there for the night (for those wondering, rules of
propriety were definitely followed.)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">On Tuesday we went to uShaka – shark, in Zulu-speak.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s a massive marine aquarium, the best I’ve
seen yet, and we were thrilled by the graceful dance of the dolphins, the
slinking sharks, the crotchety old faces of sea turtles and muscle-crackers,
and the African penguins who were swallowing fish twice the length of their
heads.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I think I liked the seal show
best – it was more of a play than anything, and one hapless gent was voluntold
from the audience to come “on stage.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But he was petrified by animals in general and only ventured near the
area at the persuasion of the trainer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There a seal burst out from nowhere, he gave a girlish scream and the
seal chased him off stage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The seal
returned a minute later with underbroekies in his teeth :)</span></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMjAR_HfnJ2AJZbHkF8n8xWRu2-PWqFkREj6-_-MN9ryhYfOfYJSdD7gMp0ctOAO7ZoRTXs9Mw_PK6YJ4iBPH5aaLqkmtosDMfZF5-DBd6w3TvCzKFG23Lt20XoCCf0Dc00k_O/s1600/1-IMG_3869.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMjAR_HfnJ2AJZbHkF8n8xWRu2-PWqFkREj6-_-MN9ryhYfOfYJSdD7gMp0ctOAO7ZoRTXs9Mw_PK6YJ4iBPH5aaLqkmtosDMfZF5-DBd6w3TvCzKFG23Lt20XoCCf0Dc00k_O/s320/1-IMG_3869.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">And then we left the blue and yellow world of
Durban –its sea, sky and sunlight—and headed back to Richmond.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I said goodbye to Aaron (it was really REALLY
nice to trade experiences with an old friend!) and arrived much later in
Pretoria.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And there’s not much more to
say, except one very interesting event.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>While waiting for my ride in Pretoria, a young man sidled up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was Sebastian.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And his story poured out in emotionally-loaded
pieces: parents dying, leaving him only deep debt, depression setting
in...<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A close encounter with death and
deep scars to tell of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then somewhere
along the line, God stepped in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He sent
a man to tell of Jesus and offer hope.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After
some time in rehab, Sebastian was released three days ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had been living in that terminal, trying
to raise funds to make it to Pietermaritzburg where he might have family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And so our paths crossed: he was headed for
the very place I’d left!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Suddenly I knew
why that ride was taking so long.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
prayed together, and I told him of Immanuel’s Wish Foundation (the hospice/ rehabilitation
centre) in nearby Richmond.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God willing,
he is in Pietermaritzburg as we speak – and if he doesn’t find family, he’ll
find help at Immanuel’s Wish.</span>Ruthhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10236253702237918037noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30075799.post-36386852075850442412012-06-08T02:11:00.000-05:002012-06-08T02:23:44.861-05:00Just clownin' aroundUgh, this is really long. But so much happened!<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I set out early Friday morning for Richmond, Aaron and
ultimately, adventure in Durban.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our coach
began rolling bumpily across South Africa’s bumpy rolling scenery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even now I’m distracted by the barren scenery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The flat brown mesas look like this land of
hills was run through a planer that sheered its peaks off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A speedy Greyhound is ok, but one can’t help
but long for a horse-back trek through it all.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The bus held some fascinating characters: Louisa, marketing
intern from Germany who’s still trying to sorting through South Africa’s social
puzzle, Marcus, the Zulu with a genuine perma-smile and dozens of tales about
his people and Rashul, the emo from Durban who is “addicted to sadness,” longs
for heaven but isn’t sure if that “kind and gentle” Allah will let him in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Between roadblocks and delays it was a slow
ride but at last the brown scenery began to crack with green, opening into the
lush valleys around Pietermaritzburg.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Anticipated arrival 6:30 pm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Actual arrival 9:30.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is
Africa.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Vo0MQbBo4omB7hpol_6yCD9aiWgOAvNRDl30e4VqrWU_evlPClNaiXW5_p28MO_gAVEqQClr_5U6UI6DqyKOgTduraI4oQpm_N8O2ZL26F5NUvnWgIIuR9WmBQ0luzvwIB6B/s1600/1-IMG_3177+(2).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Vo0MQbBo4omB7hpol_6yCD9aiWgOAvNRDl30e4VqrWU_evlPClNaiXW5_p28MO_gAVEqQClr_5U6UI6DqyKOgTduraI4oQpm_N8O2ZL26F5NUvnWgIIuR9WmBQ0luzvwIB6B/s320/1-IMG_3177+(2).JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were all quite
relieved to see each other at the terminal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Aaron had been wondering why his three calls hadn’t connected (I forgot
my phone in Kwamahlanga) and I was worried about them being worried.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The next day was designated a “Fun Day” at the hospice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While that combination may sound a little
odd, it was actually, well, quite fun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
kids from the nearby squatters’ camp were invited in for a rollicking time on
the rented jumping castle, the pool (if I hadn’t seen the water beforehand I would
have sworn it was filled with old coffee!), musical chairs, dance competitions
and face painting!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was lord-high clown
and fool – while I wasn’t a natural at it (no smart comments, Matt!) :P I did enjoy
painting 40 squirming black faces!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A mulungu
(white person) can be frightening, but a painted white person?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s enough to send little babies screaming.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I smiled bravely through it all :D</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVglwyo7mopu-jC00Crd5L9hKDIDNCFZAAjKhKXRTTZwSPzYsJZMxxEk_2QtKhOSl_u48Er6FdkIcCTamMIT5Vl9gM02JA3sQTlgY3lqPTeCHSQo0vNx5jsztUckuuE3t31aht/s1600/1-IMG_2801.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVglwyo7mopu-jC00Crd5L9hKDIDNCFZAAjKhKXRTTZwSPzYsJZMxxEk_2QtKhOSl_u48Er6FdkIcCTamMIT5Vl9gM02JA3sQTlgY3lqPTeCHSQo0vNx5jsztUckuuE3t31aht/s320/1-IMG_2801.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">As yet another batch of candies was pressed into little
hands and mouths, I commented to Linda that these kids were going to be hopped
up on sugar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“That’s a good thing,” she
said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What on earth did she mean?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“No, it is a good thing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Many of these kids don’t get square meals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s a good thing.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wow, there is indeed a season for everything.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Linda was one of the very special people at Immanuel’s Wish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m not sure how much I should say about her
story, but God has clearly brought her from darkness into light.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her compulsive hugs and bright smiles are a
testament to recreation in Jesus.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Then came Sunday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Aaron had warned me that this church put the charisma in charismatic,
and we weren’t disappointed...<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>or, well,
you know what I mean :)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a glossy
blue and white church, and with its royal hangings, flags, replica of the ark
and various Zulu artefacts it defined beauty in an African style.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The music was likewise: bright and loud.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And then the pastor came on and launched into
the story of David’s anointing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In shouting
baritone, he performed a one-man drama of Samuel’s task.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A man in the front row was the recipient of many
rejections as Samuel filtered through Jesse’s sons. Upon reaching David, the
man’s bald head was seized and rattled back and forth in acceptance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All this while a Zulu translator leaped like
a shadow and echo alongside the pastor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>While the sermon didn’t follow the finer points of Calvinistic
hermeneutics, it brought the story to life and showed God’s power poignantly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And so were quite sad when health and wealth
sneaked in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Three hours later and it was
all over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Second service, anyone?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We walked towards Richmond after church.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Call it lost, call it “not entirely sure
where we are” as Aaron did, but we were in unfamiliar territory.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We spotted a house with six dogs... and a man
with a parrot: with so many animals we knew he must be of good character.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And so we asked directions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And within five minutes, Steve was inviting
us in for a cup of coffee with his wife Zurika!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They were a delightful couple.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
met the rest of the family (two more parrots, two cats and unnumbered fish,)
and before we left they invited us to their church’s evening fellowship.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is getting quite long, so let me just
say that soup and buns were served alongside an informal play about Aladdin,
with the upshot being that God is NOT our genie.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoCypDPBDmwHfyuRFgibYKSeEKIigcX5V-MoxM-qK6BwlLy4iWJczAzT0Z92KgzjYQfBj_EcpkogOTbrqhENf4FgwjCjwaxeOrHB91nl1UrsQ4NbTkDv9C7CZYb_fArhlOqWXG/s1600/1-IMG_3260.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoCypDPBDmwHfyuRFgibYKSeEKIigcX5V-MoxM-qK6BwlLy4iWJczAzT0Z92KgzjYQfBj_EcpkogOTbrqhENf4FgwjCjwaxeOrHB91nl1UrsQ4NbTkDv9C7CZYb_fArhlOqWXG/s320/1-IMG_3260.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
Photo credits to AaronRuthhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10236253702237918037noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30075799.post-50310934059220262322012-05-23T08:45:00.000-05:002012-05-23T08:45:20.485-05:00Joburg<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Today I’m sitting on the sunny porch of a Johannesburg
house, feeling completely at home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This
house is the warm heart of a very unique couple – Jans, who’s lecturing habits
don’t end when he walks out of his Mukhanyo position but merely moves to
fascinating facts about South African politics, ibis habits and tales from
remote lands – and his wife Anneka, special-needs teacher and hostess
extraordinaire, with a story about every curio and person we meet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They love to travel and have explored Abbu
Dabi, Rome, Mikanos, Malawi (Nkhoma even!), Zimbabwe, the list goes on...<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and they love wildlife and adventure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What a perfect combination :)</span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Also in the house are three canine children and one Kidane,
an Eritrean friend from the seminary and a sort of adopted son of this lovely
couple.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We just came back from a tea party and after a parade of
sweet delicacies, I am as replete and energetic as the hippo statue yawning in
front of me.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sorry, there are few exotic stories to tell
you...<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But today especially, life is
good :)</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifoCNDxl9QT_amwGYvwy2KpyTxyn7NgBDTT4D4etK3b-8peolYy6RNpkFSeOaWC6oIm7zPxDOrI6oeteSWqy5ei7njW8K0FeX_X4S9e52yV4l0wzErZnlt0ErywsxDVV3F08-w/s1600/hippo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifoCNDxl9QT_amwGYvwy2KpyTxyn7NgBDTT4D4etK3b-8peolYy6RNpkFSeOaWC6oIm7zPxDOrI6oeteSWqy5ei7njW8K0FeX_X4S9e52yV4l0wzErZnlt0ErywsxDVV3F08-w/s320/hippo.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Ruthhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10236253702237918037noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30075799.post-67863220332310913302012-05-04T04:48:00.000-05:002012-05-04T04:48:07.756-05:00First Impressions<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’m writing this by the light of a flickering candle on
old-school notepaper to conserve laptop battery – ever so appropriate, since
here also two realms collide.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is a
light here, but insufficient to see by and this emergency candle has to
do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My room is beautiful: all brick and
stone and thatch, with a gorgeous be-mirrored bathroom big enough to waltz
in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our little farm-compound lies in the
midst of a shanty-town thudding with rave music, spiritist rites and barking
dogs – and the night’s more peaceful chorus of crickets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here, I’m told, the village’s youth dance and
carouse into the wee hours, drinking to forget that their chances of success
are low in a micro-economy where 85% are unemployed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“The jobs go to the whites,” they say, yet a
friend’s 20-something year old son who’s white as any malungu recently
committed suicide over the reverse plea.</span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Jesus offers hope: you see it plastered about, yet when hard
times come, I’m told it’s back to the old ancestor worship.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’ve met some lovely people: Jane, who always has a joke and
story; Prity, who’s name describes her person and personality; Peter, a
video-editor dating her; Harry & Joke, my Dutch hosts who are so warm and
welcoming; “Jukes” who tells me he chases away ghosts and ancestral spirits
with his hammer (I showed him a picture of Dad building our igloo home to pay
back that yarn,) and little Anna who took my hand and pulled me to the table.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Yet the dangers one can’t see are spoken of and people do
not leave their homes at night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And
here, in the midst of a community-smothering village, I feel a little isolated
within this electric-fenced compound.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In
this land of contrasts and fiercely national pride, first meets third world,
progress leaves poverty, and it’s not all black and white.</span></div>Ruthhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10236253702237918037noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30075799.post-61832101042179674772012-05-02T02:27:00.000-05:002012-05-02T02:27:41.091-05:00Enroute: Hello Amsterdam!<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So here I am, only five hours left of this comatose state we
call “travelling.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But where the body
sits bound by inertia, at least the mind soars.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Between the ongoing debate “do I or do I not have that
delicious snack KLM offers on the hour,” I’ve trebled my pop culture knowledge by
watching more movies in 20 hours than I typically see in four months.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lovely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I can see Dad’s brow rising at this dubious achievement.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And with it comes an education of a different sort, on the
life and times of Joan Barberry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>See, if
you want to get to know someone, miss a plane together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But if you <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">really</b> want to get to know someone, share a Queen-size bed
together. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It began in the Delft-blue airport.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Admittedly my brain was not firing on all
four cylinders as I dragged body and possessions snail-like across Amsterdam’s massive
airport.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Arriving at the G7 gate (as my
ticket specified), I checked with the nice-looking lady across from me if this
was indeed the flight to Johannesburg.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Yes it was, and I pulled out my laptop to Blurb.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was still Blurbing away when I heard across
the intercom, “Barberry, VanDyken, Smith, you are delaying your...”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ah, I laughed, some nit-witted relative is
missing his...<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“flight to Johannesburg.”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I looked up, right into the face of that nice woman and the
realization smacked me between the eyes: the only other passenger I’d confirmed
with was as woefully confused as I was!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Then began an all-out sprint through 2 kilometers of
airport, luggage flying and me spiralling around the slow-moving vehicles that
filled my path.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That nice old lady in
her seventies packed some serious speed, but I was to run ahead and “stop the
plane.”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">10 minutes later I arrived at the dead-end of a terminal,
gasped the story out to the officials.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>No no, you’re at the wrong terminal – you missed a turn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Inconceivable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So I turned and once again burned past the travellers
waiting sanely for their flights.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Another
kilometre (I resolved I would hitherto go jogging while towing 20 lbs of
luggage) and I arrived to find the lady looking deflated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That airplane was there, calling – but sealed
up like a tank.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Joan and I introduced ourselves, rebooked our flights (no charge thanks
to KLM!) and booked a hotel room together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The “Yotel” was space-age: purple light bounced off shiny white PVC
furniture, all contained in about 12 square feet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The “Queen-sized” bed extended from the
wall, and I wouldn’t have been surprised if sleepers were strapped in and
stored vertically, like dishes on a rack.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Ah well, it was a bonding experience.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And to our mutual relief, we both presented
rather sane, normal characters to each other (Joan has not confirmed this,
though she has invited me to her Yukon home.)</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The rest of the day had been spent touring/ falling asleep
on the bus and a lovely canal tour of Amsterdam.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We reflected that night -- with me wearing Joan’s extra pyjamas
and she falling under the influence of my sleeping pills – just how quirky
providence can be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And that was
confirmed in 10 minutes, as I once again found myself sprinting through an
empty airport in desperate search of anti-histamines.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Joan was having an allergic reaction to those
sleeping pills, and “anaphylactic” lent wings to my feet.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">But here we are, just crossed the macro sandbox of the
Sahara and above Africa’s greener climes – and what’s travelling without a
little adventure?</span><br />Ruthhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10236253702237918037noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30075799.post-32750093389004363422011-06-20T21:50:00.003-05:002011-06-20T21:59:51.029-05:00VBS StoriesAfter "writing" these stories for the Z's, Mrs. Z suggested I post them where they can be used. Feel free to borrow or use any of them; they're there for any means that will glorify God.<br /><br />The theme was the miracles of Jesus, with a broad focus on legalism vs. the Law of Love, and the amazing Deity of Jesus.<br /><br /><br /><strong>Jesus Turns Water Into Wine<br /></strong>John 2:1-12<br />Have you ever been to a wedding? It’s a happy, joyful event isn’t it. So many smiling people, all dressed in their best. That beautiful bride standing with her new husband. Fathers and mothers watching with mixed emotions. And after the actual marriage comes the feast. There is music and speeches and of course FOOD! Lots of it! You can picture the tables piled high with sweets and treats and steaming chicken biriyani, palak-paneer bursting with flavour, delicious dahl, channa, roti and nan... Too much good food to mention! And there’s chai tea, lots of it! Some people seem to think that the food is the MOST important part! That’s not true, of course, but it IS an important part of a wedding.<br />Back in Jesus’ time, food was pretty important for weddings too. It was the bride and grooms’ way of saying, celebrate with us! We are so happy to have you here at our marriage! Weddings were quite a bit different back then. Their feasting lasted a looonnnng time: they would celebrate, eat and drink for seven days in a row. Imagine that! And all the while, the guests would be eating and drinking. Food was important, but so was wine. God doesn’t want us to drink too much wine so that we can’t control ourselves, but the Bible does not forbid drinking a little. Wine in that culture, as in many, was a celebrative drink. So if you were a Jewish person at a wedding back then, you would drink a little bit each day. A little bit of wine over seven days for a lot of people? That’s a lot of wine, isn’t it? Think about that as you listen to this story about Jesus.<br />Jesus, His mother and disciples, were invited to a wedding in Cana of Galilee. There was a lot of dancing, feasting and drinking, but by the third day, something really bad happened. The bride and groom ran out wine! Only three days into the week-long feast, and they had already run out of wine. Can you imagine how embarrassed they must have been? At that time, it would be like saying to your guests, “We don’t think you’re special enough to give you enough wine for the whole week.” The bride and groom must have been so sad. Jesus’ mother Mary soon learned of the wine shortage. She found Jesus and said to Him, “They have no more wine!” Jesus said to her, “What does this have to do with me? It’s not my time yet.”<br />What do you suppose He meant by that? Do you think He didn’t care about the embarrassment of the bride and groom? Does Jesus care about little things like that? And yet Jesus DOES care, as we’ll soon find out.<br />After Jesus said this to Mary, she said looked around and told the servants, “Do whatever Jesus tells you to do!”<br />There were six massive stone jars in the building, meant for holding water for washing. Jesus told the servants to fill the jars to their very brims. He then said to the servants, “Take some to the master of the feast.” (he’s like the MC.) So the servants brought a cupful to the master of the feast. The man lifted the glass to his lips, and do you know what he tasted? Not water, but delicious, AMAZING wine. It was SO good that the MC called over the groom and said to him, “Usually people serve the best wine first. But you have kept the best wine until now!” The wedding must have continued after that with more than enough wine: after all, they had six huge jars full. Jesus saved the bride and groom from embarrassment.<br />But this story – which is the very FIRST miracle Jesus did to show He is God – shows just how big our God is. Who can change water into wine? That is a miracle, isn’t it? It takes the hand of the Creator – the hand of God – to change something from one thing into another. When the disciples saw this, they believed Jesus.<br />But even though Jesus is SO big and powerful, He still cares about the “little things” that we care about. (No one was going to die from not having enough wine, were they?) Not having the wine sure meant a lot to the bride and groom, and Jesus understood that. That’s because He is both God AND a person. He knows what it’s like to be embarrassed, to be sad or scared or even hurting from a cut knee. And He hears our prayers, whether they’re about big things or very small ones.<br /><br /><strong>Jesus Walks on the Water<br /></strong>John 6:16-21 and Matthew 14:22-38<br />Imagine a thunder storm: think of the clashes of thunder that bang through the air. They come all of a sudden, again and again, and fill your bedroom. You can’t imagine anything louder than that crashing thunder! And the lightening! It doesn’t stop. It streaks across the sky. It lights up your bedroom and your frightened little brother’s face. And it shows how WILD things are outside! The trees are bending so far, they look like they’re going to snap! It feels like the whole world is out of control. That thunderstorm is sooo scary. It’s so wild! Is there anything more terrifying than a thunderstorm? Is there anything bigger than a thunderstorm?<br />That must have been what Jesus’ disciples were thinking one night. It had been a long day for them. Jesus had just fed five thousand people. He had told them to get in their boat and meet him on the other side of the Sea of Galilee, while He went up to the mountain to pray. The disciples were experienced fishermen, and weren’t scared of crossing the sea by themselves. So in they got, and set out for the other shore. But when the boat was in the middle of the sea, the weather began to change. Dark clouds filled the sky. A wild wind came and whipped up huge waves all around the little boat. The little boat tossed around in the water like a leaf. The disciples did their best to row towards the land, but the wind was directly against them. All night they fought the waves, trying to get to shore.<br />Then came yet another, scarier thing. There across the waves was a man. He seemed to be walking on the water, and He was coming toward them. The disciples screamed out in terror, “It’s a ghost!” But immediately, a loving voice called out to them, “Don’t be afraid! It is I!” Who was it? It was Jesus, walking on the water! Can you imagine how relieved the disciples must have felt? But you know what, those disciples STILL weren’t sure. Was it really Jesus? How can a Man walk on water? Have YOU ever seen someone walk on top of water? He wasn’t just skittering across a sandy patch of sea. He wasn’t skating on ice. He wasn’t swimming, or surfing, or any of that. He was walking in a wild, crashing sea full of waves. And He was walking on TOP of those waves! So the disciples couldn’t believe Him when He said He was Jesus.<br />Peter had to test Him. Peter said, “Lord, if it really is you, tell me to step into the water and come to you.” And Jesus said, “Come!” So Peter stepped out of the boat. He put his feet onto the water and began to walk on it! How amazing and strange that must have been! Peter walked toward Jesus, but soon he began to look around himself. He looked at the pounding waves, the wild wind stronger than anything he knew, and Peter became terrified! His feet began to sink into the water, and He screamed out “Jesus! Save me!” Jesus reached out and took Peter’s hand, pulling him to safety. Jesus said to Peter, “Oh Peter, you have SO little faith! Why did you doubt me?”<br />Think about that for a minute. Why did Jesus say that to Peter? Peter had faith (or belief), right? He had enough faith to step into that wild sea in the first place. But when did he start to sink? Peter started to sink when he began looking around at the waves. Peter stopped looking at Jesus, and started thinking that those waves were far more powerful than anything he knew. More powerful than anything... even Jesus. Is that true? Is a massive storm bigger than Jesus? No, of course not! You know who made those waves in the first place, right? God did! And if God created the sea and the waves, do you think He has power to control them? He sure does. God is far bigger than the sea. He can swirl up an ocean storm easier than you could swirl up the water in a glass with your pinky finger. God makes storms, and He ends storms. All that thunder and lightning: every jolt is planned and sent by Him.<br />And who is Jesus? Jesus is God of course. So He had that storm totally in control.<br />That’s why Jesus rebuked Peter. He was reminding Peter to trust Him, because He was completely in control.<br />Jesus and Peter walked over the waves and back to the boat. As soon as Jesus got into the boat, the wind stopped instantly. The disciples worshipped Jesus, saying “You really ARE the Son of God!”<br />Remember that thunderstorm we talked about at the beginning of the story? I asked you if there’s anything bigger than a thunderstorm. Is there? Of course there is! And just like Peter, all we have to do is pray “Jesus, save me! Keep me safe tonight!” And we’ll know that God Himself is looking after us. But it gets scary sometimes, doesn’t it. Just like Peter, we can think “Wow that lightning is so much bigger than me!” That’s when we have to stop looking at the waves, and keep looking to Jesus.<br /><br /><strong>Healing at the Pool of Bethesda<br /></strong>John 5:1-18<br />Our Bible story today takes us to a very special place in Israel. It’s called the Pool of Bethesda and at the time of Jesus, everyone would have known about it. It’s a large pool, sort of like a swimming pool. There are five huge pillars around it, each holding up the roof. Between the pillars and around the pool lie many, many people. Are they enjoying the sun? No. In fact, most seem to be very sick. There are blind people, with rags tied across their grey, unseeing eyes. There are deaf people staring straight ahead, in a silent world of their own. Some people have twisted legs, or legs that are completely missing – these are the lame. Some are paralyzed and haven’t been able to move by themselves for years. But most of these sick people have healthy friends with them. Everyone sits and waits... They look eagerly at the pool, eyes lit in excitement. They’ve been waiting for days, weeks, months, maybe even years! What could they all be waiting for?<br />If you asked them, they’d be happy to tell you. Why, this is the Pool of Bethesda, what people call the “house of grace and mercy!” On certain days, a very special thing happens. An angel of God comes down and stirs the water. Whoever gets into the pool first when the water is being stirred comes away completely healed! What an amazing thing! No wonder these people watch with such anticipation. The sick people have strong and healthy friends with them, ready to help them be the first one to get into the pool.<br />Jesus was walking here one day. He walked among the invalids, all waiting their chance to leap into the water. But look a little closer. There among the crowd is an older man, all alone. He’s been there a long, long time. In fact, he has been sick for thirty-eight years. Jesus walked up to him, knowing his long, disappointing wait. He asked the man, “Do you want to be healed?” The sick man answered, “But Sir, I have no one to help me into the water when the angel is stirring it! Every time I try to go into the water, another person gets there first!”<br />Jesus looked at that man with mercy and said to him, “Get up! Take up your bed (mat) and WALK!” And immediately that man was better! He grabbed his bed and walked for the first time in thirty-eight years. Can you imagine how happy he was? He must have jumped and run, trying out his strong legs again. What a feeling of freedom, to be able to run after years of lying in bed!<br />But that day was the Sabbath – the day of rest for the Jews. God had made this so that His people could rest and focus on worshipping Him. But the Jewish rulers –the Pharisees—said they were not allowed to do ANY work on Sunday: not even carry a bed or walk too far! They made many detailed rules that the people had to follow. These rules ended up being a huge long list of “do’s and don’ts”. This was the Pharisees’ way of showing how holy they were. But that did not make them holy. It was just a way to make themselves look better.<br />Well, the man was still carrying his bed when he walked past the Pharisees. And what do you suppose those Pharisees said? Did they say, “WOW! We’re so happy that you’re walking after lying sick in bed for almost forty years!?” or did they say, “Who made you better, so that we can see Him too?!” No, they didn’t. All those Pharisees did was frown and growl, “It is the Sabbath and you’re not allowed to carry your bed!” But the man who had been healed answered, “The man who healed me told me to carry my bed and walk!” So the Pharisees said, “And who is He?” But the man didn’t know Jesus’ name.<br />A little later, Jesus found the man in the temple. Jesus said to the man, “See, you are better! Don’t sin anymore, and nothing worse will happen to you.”<br />After this, the man went to tell the Pharisees that it was Jesus who had healed him. Then the Pharisees started persecuting Jesus, trying to catch Him and put Him in prison. But Jesus answered, “My Father and I are working.” By this, Jesus meant that He and God were working together as equals. Then the Pharisees hated Him even more, because He claimed to be as strong as God Himself; because He actually is God.<br />Do you think those Pharisees really cared about the sick man?<br />They didn’t at all, did they. They weren’t happy he’d been healed – they were only angry that he was breaking one of their many little rules.<br />Do you think they cared about God?<br />God’s rule and commandment is to love – to love God Himself first, and also to love everyone around us. But those Pharisees sure didn’t show love to the man who had been healed!<br />Instead, the Pharisees cared most about themselves. They made all those rules, not to love and serve God, but to show how good and holy THEY themselves were. And God hates this.<br />But Jesus shows us love, both for God and for people.<br /><br /><strong>Jesus Heals the Man with Dropsy and the Man with the Withered Hand<br /></strong>Luke 14:1-6 and Luke 6:6-11<br />What does it mean to obey? Look at this quick story for a minute: suppose Mom tells Jimmy and Joey to each go and clean his room. They’re not allowed out until they’re done. Joey doesn’t care much for the job, so he wants to get his done as fast as possible. He works very hard, throwing dirty laundry across the room into the hamper, making his bed neatly and quickly. His stuffed animals fly through the air and land with a bump in their places... For Jimmy, it’s the same – he also doesn’t like cleaning, and works to get it done fast. Mom is in the backyard and the boys are busily working when BANG! their little sister Sarah has a big fall. Sarah starts to cry. She’s very hurt. What should those boys do now? Joey thinks to himself, “well Mom said I wasn’t allowed to leave my room until I was done!” So he keeps working hard. Jimmy thinks, “But poor little Sarah is hurt! And Mom’s not around! I have to go comfort Sarah.” So Jimmy leaves his room to give Sarah a hug.<br />Who was obeying? Do you think Mom would be pleased that Joey stayed in his room while Sarah was hurt? Don’t you think Mom would care far more about comforting little Sarah than about not leaving the room?<br />In some ways, God’s commands are like that too. He says, “Keep the Sabbath day (today that means Sunday) holy and don’t work on that day.” But above all, God commands us to LOVE: love God Himself, and to love those around us. We love God by keeping His commandments. We love the people around us by caring about them and showing love. Love is the whole reason behind every rule God has given us. You see, we can obey all God’s rules, but if we’re not showing love, we’re missing the point altogether. In the next story, watch how Jesus follows this by showing love. And watch the Pharisees: will God be happy with their obedience?<br />One day Jesus went to eat at a Pharisee’s house on the Sabbath. The Sabbath was the day when people weren’t supposed to work. The Pharisees were watching Jesus carefully. They were hoping to catch Him making a mistake and breaking the Sabbath. A man with dropsy came into the room. Dropsy is sort of like epilepsy: it means that the man had fits and his body broke out in spasms. Jesus knew the Pharisees were trying to catch Him sinning. So He asked them, “Is it right to heal on the Sabbath or not?” The Pharisees didn’t know what to say. In their hearts, they knew it was good and LOVING for Jesus to heal. But they really wanted to catch Jesus breaking the rules. So they didn’t say a word. Then Jesus turned to the man with dropsy and healed him.<br />Jesus turned back to the Pharisees and asked them, “If your son fell into a deep hole or well on the Sabbath, or if your cow fell into a deep hole, would YOU just leave them there?” Again the Pharisees had nothing to say. They knew that they would show love and care to their own son, or even to their animal. So how could they be against Jesus showing love to a sick man?<br />But do you know what? Those Pharisees didn’t learn their lesson at all. On yet another Sabbath, Jesus was preaching and teaching. There was a man there who’s hand was withered, weak and useless. These days, a weak hand is a sad thing, but back then, a man who had a weak hand could hardly even make a living. He might even have to beg for his food. It was a very serious thing to have a useless hand.<br />The Pharisees were looking very carefully at the man and at Jesus. Do you think they were hoping Jesus would help the poor man? No, not at all! Just like last time, they were hoping Jesus would heal the man so they could say that Jesus had broken the Sabbath! Yet again, they were trying to catch Jesus! But Jesus knew their thoughts. He said to the man with the withered hand, “Come and stand here.” The man came to the front. Jesus turned to the Pharisees and asked them, “Is it right to do good things on the Sabbath, or to do bad things? Is it right to save a life or to kill?” Jesus looked directly at them, but no one answered. Then Jesus looked at the man with the withered hand. There was the hand, fingers curled up in a tight, useless ball. Jesus said to the man, “Stretch out your hand!” And that claw-like hand opened and became healthy and whole! Think of what that must have meant for the man: suddenly he could work, now he could feed himself, now he wouldn’t have to beg! What a loving thing for Jesus to do!<br />The Pharisees must have been so happy that the man was healed, right? But no, they weren’t at all. They were terribly angry. They plotted against Jesus, wondering what they could do to stop Him from these acts of kindness.<br />You see, the Pharisees followed all the rules God laid out in the Bible. They kept the Sabbath day, and didn’t work on that day. They were EXTREME in their obedience of God’s rules and law. But they missed the big point, the real point. What do you suppose they missed?<br />They missed God’s command to LOVE. They didn’t LOVE God as they should have, and they certainly didn’t love the people around them. But Jesus showed love, didn’t He? He sure did! He healed the man with dropsy and He healed the man with the withered hand.<br />So what is obedience? What does it mean to obey? Like Jesus’ example, obeying is following God’s commands – like keeping the day of rest, a day meant for worshipping God. But to really obey God’s commands, we have to do more – we have to obey out of LOVE. Because obedience without love is totally empty.<br /><br /><strong>Jesus Heals Legion, the Demon-Possessed Man<br /></strong>Luke 8:26-39, Mark 5:1-20<br />If you were living in the Gerasenes, near the Galilean Sea at Jesus’ time, there would be one place just outside of town that you would never, ever want to go to. Frightening and mysterious stories must have been passed around about that area, because there was a wild man there. This man had no home, but took shelter among the rocky tombs there. He wore no clothes either. Several times, the townspeople had captured him and bound him with heavy chains and iron shackles. Yet each time, he would break those heavy chains as if they were just string, would snap the huge shackles in half, and would break free and run into the desert. Even when he was closely guarded by armed men, this man would STILL break away and run. He was a wild man. The mountains and tombs echoed night and day with his wild cries. Even the strongest men in the town must have shuddered at the sound of those screams and howls.<br />Why was he like this? He was overtaken by many, many devils. These devils are Satan’s helpers, and they kept that poor man in the worst kind of imprisonment. There were so many devils in this man that he was called “Legion.” Back then, a legion was the number for a thousand. That meant that the man Legion had more than one thousand devils living in him. The devils filled Legion’s mind with terrible and frightful visions. They made him cut his body with stones. Maybe sometimes, Legion would come to his right mind and would be very sad and ashamed. Day in and day out, Legion’s life was a long nightmare.<br />One day, Jesus came across the Galilean Sea to the Gerasenes. As soon as Jesus set foot on the land, Legion saw Jesus and came running up to Him. The wild man threw himself at Jesus’ feet, and cried out in a loud voice, “What do you want with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God?! I beg you, by God Himself, do not trouble me!” You see, it was the devils in Legion who were saying this. They knew who Jesus was, and they were trembling in fear before Him. And how could they not? This was Jesus, the very Son of God! He could send them all to hell with one small word! This was Jesus, who commanded all of heaven’s angels! He could snuff those devils out with a lift of His finger! No wonder they were terrified. The devils knew that they couldn’t possibly fight Jesus, so their only chance was to plead with Him.<br />Jesus looked at Legion and asked him, “What is your name?” He answered, “My name is Legion, for we devils are many.” Then the devils began to beg Jesus not to send them out of the country. On a nearby hillside was a huge herd of pigs. The devils begged Jesus to send them into the herd of pigs. Jesus gave them permission, and the devils entered the herd. The pigs immediately went wild, rushed down a steep hillside and all drowned in the sea. Do you know how many pigs there were? More than two thousand! And all those devils had been in Legion!<br />The herdsmen who had been looking after the pigs ran into the city, telling everyone what had happened. The people came out to see. And do you know what they saw when they found Jesus? Can you guess?<br />There they saw Jesus, and sitting with him was Legion. But it didn’t look like Legion at all! There he was, sitting with clothes on, cleaned up, and in his right mind. He wasn’t wild or crazy anymore, but was perfectly peaceful, sitting with Jesus. We can’t call him Legion anymore, because Jesus had won the victory over the devils that had filled him. There wasn’t a devil left in him.<br />Suddenly the townspeople were very frightened. Those who had seen how Legion was healed told everyone about Jesus’ great power. Who was this Man, whom even the devils listened to? But those people didn’t realize that even though Jesus is someone to be feared, He is also the One to be trusted. Instead of worshipping Jesus, the townspeople begged Him to leave.<br />Jesus walked down to the sea again. As He was getting in the boat, Legion followed Him. Legion begged Jesus to allow him to come with Jesus. But Jesus said to Legion, “Go home to your friends. Tell them how much the Lord has done for you! Tell them how He has had mercy on you!” So Legion also went his way, telling everyone how much Jesus had done for him, and everyone was amazed.<br />That’s a beautiful story, isn’t it? It shows the peace Jesus brings to people who have lived in total darkness and fear. In some ways, we’re like Legion. Satan can put fear and hatred in our hearts. Satan and his devils are so much stronger than we are and we can’t hope to win against him alone. Yet Jesus, Ruler and Creator of everything, has complete power over Satan. The very name of Jesus holds power: it’s enough to make every devil run in fear.Ruthhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10236253702237918037noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30075799.post-25332449033493815482009-05-09T09:57:00.004-05:002009-05-09T10:09:04.067-05:00In-depth Theology With our Youngers<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsvPWGRVDbkebEXKZePh4qBCc5v7X8tbQGC3HrYHyWV2eBdZZQmJrnKi6DCD5NmSACpZUlboQ9SNvGRs2SDfFq9q7ZSzojE9iXvDqfwOTQde4eofU4iFsjzMUxL5zj033VyzQf/s1600-h/449px-downy_woodpecker-male.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333841101042409826" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 153px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 222px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsvPWGRVDbkebEXKZePh4qBCc5v7X8tbQGC3HrYHyWV2eBdZZQmJrnKi6DCD5NmSACpZUlboQ9SNvGRs2SDfFq9q7ZSzojE9iXvDqfwOTQde4eofU4iFsjzMUxL5zj033VyzQf/s320/449px-downy_woodpecker-male.jpg" border="0" /></a>It definitely has been a long time since I've looked at my blog. Time plays a large part in this, of course. But the old question comes to mind again; some things are too amusing, too ironic or too good to forget. And what better way than through writing it down?<br /><div></div><div></div><div>We've been trading stories about kids and theology.</div><div></div><div></div><div>From Aunt Mary:</div><div>Holly was teaching two-year-old Andrew about the miracle of the Red Sea crossing, and how Moses made it all the way across, completely dry. Andrew was fully impressed; “Wow! Did he wear underpants too!?!”</div><br /><div><br />From Daniel & Raewinn:</div><div>While teaching his four-year-old about the Bible, a pastor had focused primarily on Jesus and His mercy. The full result of this came to light at a spanking; the boy was screaming, “Have mercy, have mercy! Would Jesus do this?” From then on, the pastor knew; hell and damnation first, mercy after.</div><div><br />Long ago, when Phillip was just learning to talk:</div><div>“Look, look Phillip! A wood-pecker!” “Wood-whacker?” “Yes. He’s pretty isn’t he?” “Nooooo...” “No?” “No. He perfect.”</div><br /><div></div>Ruthhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10236253702237918037noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30075799.post-55332139850659160552008-10-28T20:04:00.006-05:002008-10-28T20:16:29.100-05:00And more yet...<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi97tgKnxYZd6d8xLmH5FuU8_j4TtrO769sXdIGJ_94ChrsUNmodDH9AtTLnkCAeLvGMO3EufteWqnIvqOqz_wmdqaIwATPdRWPzIj_XDZjmCramudMy9fuSNF8DuadvYXaQXAI/s1600-h/Camp+Tamarack+039.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262377671430440146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi97tgKnxYZd6d8xLmH5FuU8_j4TtrO769sXdIGJ_94ChrsUNmodDH9AtTLnkCAeLvGMO3EufteWqnIvqOqz_wmdqaIwATPdRWPzIj_XDZjmCramudMy9fuSNF8DuadvYXaQXAI/s400/Camp+Tamarack+039.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1dk2ctd-grYk22wwO0ls9bmhM0WE84h4RHRNCO2D5cPKD4X0sQ_YcZETEDw2p9G65PSTPt_1ugnHOqdh7Np2iqwM2X4YnKGcgAgPFYbby4dvz1Qb4oWXGk2O-gBcRR1ImbIKL/s1600-h/Camp+Tamarack+003.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262377668879515442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1dk2ctd-grYk22wwO0ls9bmhM0WE84h4RHRNCO2D5cPKD4X0sQ_YcZETEDw2p9G65PSTPt_1ugnHOqdh7Np2iqwM2X4YnKGcgAgPFYbby4dvz1Qb4oWXGk2O-gBcRR1ImbIKL/s400/Camp+Tamarack+003.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv7O7B7wNOnXduMvts2KW6UwjqFpEQBShkYrxji9Sf7Bk7wiFhrKQvEajYMxb9cjo2LhJnMOLB4RFA_ZJuVNAumNBahphHteI4n9GqVfdGHPVj5xkl5c8y1tOIYb2FiqYTjxN5/s1600-h/Camp+17.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262377658544784978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv7O7B7wNOnXduMvts2KW6UwjqFpEQBShkYrxji9Sf7Bk7wiFhrKQvEajYMxb9cjo2LhJnMOLB4RFA_ZJuVNAumNBahphHteI4n9GqVfdGHPVj5xkl5c8y1tOIYb2FiqYTjxN5/s400/Camp+17.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgvr3dwswlUyFwyFiNYPFAraSDy-GwOCHr3heWQN1j6cV4nwlXe_MOSMTcnhYlkfDzoOR0NL5u2Y-JSiQ9p_GLAqN1BCjk5miAcXG4SuNqpdWIwmHIMcmj34NIsX5hdvoRKLxv/s1600-h/Camp18.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262377654216758178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 249px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgvr3dwswlUyFwyFiNYPFAraSDy-GwOCHr3heWQN1j6cV4nwlXe_MOSMTcnhYlkfDzoOR0NL5u2Y-JSiQ9p_GLAqN1BCjk5miAcXG4SuNqpdWIwmHIMcmj34NIsX5hdvoRKLxv/s400/Camp18.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262377837765234738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQfeGrXEuWwbOaMNH9aJiMkqXiqSVMTBu8JAxWykT2wiy-HLVvstlZuI5Lhl29NQ0azkh02gGoQDQho037PhyD0TbE-mCwViooduVIxI_o7Po7XvDuoMxNm2CacY0L32OL4wM7/s400/Camp+Tamarack+145.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFyzo6CHDCnqd23Io1sSJxYjVscd9G7LuQlnkUpEVomNTxZjXPYwGq7eka1UQcHKN1s2T_aa7p6WJNbFiMY0XmfUhfTKKk8fdvJlUpnj5L0A24d4o9suovW2MsHx85r741qc1G/s1600-h/Camp+16.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262377650081047378" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFyzo6CHDCnqd23Io1sSJxYjVscd9G7LuQlnkUpEVomNTxZjXPYwGq7eka1UQcHKN1s2T_aa7p6WJNbFiMY0XmfUhfTKKk8fdvJlUpnj5L0A24d4o9suovW2MsHx85r741qc1G/s400/Camp+16.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCJ_pzIlnryqomYd2aFfk4ORjMdl18iLIDe3ocAaXMYAq29FE9po0zmtK4G4iKtL_dkZWUrbEOCHEZGIYJazj0ibwjlRjgI1rwqOgN8Ob683l3WjuOf0RWqEDgUDh_XVnIsCpG/s1600-h/Camp+15.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262377310761539394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCJ_pzIlnryqomYd2aFfk4ORjMdl18iLIDe3ocAaXMYAq29FE9po0zmtK4G4iKtL_dkZWUrbEOCHEZGIYJazj0ibwjlRjgI1rwqOgN8Ob683l3WjuOf0RWqEDgUDh_XVnIsCpG/s400/Camp+15.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4ILRnRZSUwubnGFbZAVl0kvN207mQpD_VBhrIKOEqN3zRPTUKngJc8KfwlPS6bjj-AUWLCys8eE9XlfeBJNrbdUxb66E8OKyW9vzyC3YJ1OK6GozLd0PcVGHdWP3M1wUgaZ2d/s1600-h/Camp+14.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262377305695779986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4ILRnRZSUwubnGFbZAVl0kvN207mQpD_VBhrIKOEqN3zRPTUKngJc8KfwlPS6bjj-AUWLCys8eE9XlfeBJNrbdUxb66E8OKyW9vzyC3YJ1OK6GozLd0PcVGHdWP3M1wUgaZ2d/s400/Camp+14.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4iIqlXBF21DtuiX0XwZME273u3MudTrj7vmag14KfFBzaP-lHqVD6e4D-z_mJV16EU-ST1l67mavO1B-1Bmi5-K4xI7_SMqmIY1hjQ5no5oWTmlfL-SQzpyOUofagP3tz0oGN/s1600-h/Camp+13.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262377304194811234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4iIqlXBF21DtuiX0XwZME273u3MudTrj7vmag14KfFBzaP-lHqVD6e4D-z_mJV16EU-ST1l67mavO1B-1Bmi5-K4xI7_SMqmIY1hjQ5no5oWTmlfL-SQzpyOUofagP3tz0oGN/s400/Camp+13.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgId16iI_aJCUyaPo_Smy4a98uSNuloqbb7GficpHyzkWjcvJTQsG_Zv6oX-SsRINa_rt8A_m8Z2LCjx-LS7av4czv6i5BJyT_ER7-nZgNJkVFTWGe7qOBDwmo_Tj1yZ9KpqDNA/s1600-h/Camp+12.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262377300538105010" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgId16iI_aJCUyaPo_Smy4a98uSNuloqbb7GficpHyzkWjcvJTQsG_Zv6oX-SsRINa_rt8A_m8Z2LCjx-LS7av4czv6i5BJyT_ER7-nZgNJkVFTWGe7qOBDwmo_Tj1yZ9KpqDNA/s400/Camp+12.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibeZgb_mkGOpUdZA89QdhjUSZXdh6g6KYA-ho3gH9VM1Wuo7exLbGpgPyEXOA9uk5trduj6gk9wBmH03u3fETZw6b1Wps3JgvsuOehHheLeot-WjnpNCiIoZI1JQiJF6egRoe3/s1600-h/Camp+11.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262377298149795906" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibeZgb_mkGOpUdZA89QdhjUSZXdh6g6KYA-ho3gH9VM1Wuo7exLbGpgPyEXOA9uk5trduj6gk9wBmH03u3fETZw6b1Wps3JgvsuOehHheLeot-WjnpNCiIoZI1JQiJF6egRoe3/s400/Camp+11.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyy7AqanCHMK7cwOXqY4hMbH_LfELdoL7dWs28R7aOGNUUVxSTmB96gqmiO4bY3SOQiFdyE4SLJc42ClYMErtDJaqnu5fvSFmXkDwN5LbkMvaNn1RKmKBi0hDVGpjI6p6Mo3wX/s1600-h/Camp+10.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262376498942324482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 266px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyy7AqanCHMK7cwOXqY4hMbH_LfELdoL7dWs28R7aOGNUUVxSTmB96gqmiO4bY3SOQiFdyE4SLJc42ClYMErtDJaqnu5fvSFmXkDwN5LbkMvaNn1RKmKBi0hDVGpjI6p6Mo3wX/s400/Camp+10.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivw3Jr9HnD93cTCXPqbETy_rAWyFI5vXyXKXPEnaRTXOdx7E2lLEtmmpo6rey07tRb4JKiu1emStmTcnI-pteooaxS9dALI4-97gIMwilXIY1L3835_-AFi69nZKODQVtij3iO/s1600-h/Camp+7.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262376493704129874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivw3Jr9HnD93cTCXPqbETy_rAWyFI5vXyXKXPEnaRTXOdx7E2lLEtmmpo6rey07tRb4JKiu1emStmTcnI-pteooaxS9dALI4-97gIMwilXIY1L3835_-AFi69nZKODQVtij3iO/s400/Camp+7.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1kRW-IjpZGqwk53ucTLi9cMt4nPqmMCvw-qswBfhoC2-mQ6Px0kd7Owond0fmqffBFTtoESYe5BNSEr1WOqfMrLHY8zl6jslh8iwDcyeWef1gjO2M0VF2Dn-i4ZMN8c3Lb39Z/s1600-h/Camp9.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262376489675999938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1kRW-IjpZGqwk53ucTLi9cMt4nPqmMCvw-qswBfhoC2-mQ6Px0kd7Owond0fmqffBFTtoESYe5BNSEr1WOqfMrLHY8zl6jslh8iwDcyeWef1gjO2M0VF2Dn-i4ZMN8c3Lb39Z/s400/Camp9.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGMfAtpisL_1C9hfUkoLt27zU4Xi3Rodc0rCzJ8gBs1qddn7ApeGsLzEAMpXxxZupr47O8OwxPF_fng845QNzx8xgFtPukdJahStT2Hvs0dUtBDVLth9UFciK9_eT__W1SkjLk/s1600-h/Camp8.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262376478588309218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGMfAtpisL_1C9hfUkoLt27zU4Xi3Rodc0rCzJ8gBs1qddn7ApeGsLzEAMpXxxZupr47O8OwxPF_fng845QNzx8xgFtPukdJahStT2Hvs0dUtBDVLth9UFciK9_eT__W1SkjLk/s400/Camp8.jpg" border="0" /></a> <div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYBxMHAVrVzjoOr2282QBD4iUXeK-BvgKVJenX8RxNr4rg9V4xcuol-PRB6zR7VNlBUXTbG8UAL631VANmCsD9bhedDs62T76l4junfB0tM4Wt0ia1nP-obt9QOYpQ7UoG9Tlo/s1600-h/Camp6.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262376473686668530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 266px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYBxMHAVrVzjoOr2282QBD4iUXeK-BvgKVJenX8RxNr4rg9V4xcuol-PRB6zR7VNlBUXTbG8UAL631VANmCsD9bhedDs62T76l4junfB0tM4Wt0ia1nP-obt9QOYpQ7UoG9Tlo/s400/Camp6.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcuHYQgvLvjiTvrU1T4z6TbtVgedYTOsj853At9_tbUgVjwNTdGHcs2B2lj6tBheu4GWs8y31iStOIlZ3Rk92n47pGU8IwvxLFHqslp5pf5WwEmHI4fP9yhSAQjfIhDrperA_0/s1600-h/Camp5.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262375744110919154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 266px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcuHYQgvLvjiTvrU1T4z6TbtVgedYTOsj853At9_tbUgVjwNTdGHcs2B2lj6tBheu4GWs8y31iStOIlZ3Rk92n47pGU8IwvxLFHqslp5pf5WwEmHI4fP9yhSAQjfIhDrperA_0/s400/Camp5.jpg" border="0" /></a> <div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7giSVC8eoED2sisf7GhSBtdqYzVeSVGryqBho3GMBKsq-VBlK8iQdxu99EOMNrHotkjTmLJq42rXvmoJaU7OcF7SJdsmps1dU4QYHcoyjSFWN6dPIasw7EfNIE-KU7Ho55ymk/s1600-h/4.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262375735909624738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7giSVC8eoED2sisf7GhSBtdqYzVeSVGryqBho3GMBKsq-VBlK8iQdxu99EOMNrHotkjTmLJq42rXvmoJaU7OcF7SJdsmps1dU4QYHcoyjSFWN6dPIasw7EfNIE-KU7Ho55ymk/s400/4.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY8xXu5j1GDdz2O6tvIx6mNZ1j1wrjZNKMwDZ4gqAsilgrXAf4Y171zxPFWZpd9vLDyMJsqmyRocAwjAao80JGNDlvlXQMv4zYgBo6LAeOaZID2Rvmf9yo51UDc-_fFDMw8QvJ/s1600-h/3.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262375732434616258" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY8xXu5j1GDdz2O6tvIx6mNZ1j1wrjZNKMwDZ4gqAsilgrXAf4Y171zxPFWZpd9vLDyMJsqmyRocAwjAao80JGNDlvlXQMv4zYgBo6LAeOaZID2Rvmf9yo51UDc-_fFDMw8QvJ/s400/3.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUTf2wBafQj6vDr3sf7tntWhScY2aJKSQm1x_d9TFn4I28VsBVKt8hmHd_wYOvaqN_kKt7FxIaNhWysgJKhvu1eZBjjf-ZL4Q4H41Iu3vrdoC0HcMLzPRubH16TnuIz-e4xQ-y/s1600-h/2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262375726425306514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 266px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUTf2wBafQj6vDr3sf7tntWhScY2aJKSQm1x_d9TFn4I28VsBVKt8hmHd_wYOvaqN_kKt7FxIaNhWysgJKhvu1eZBjjf-ZL4Q4H41Iu3vrdoC0HcMLzPRubH16TnuIz-e4xQ-y/s400/2.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJCTaljviPOnO50__AfND6ED7QoVkrwia7HAvgPZwlkZ8OG7ZgYTj5WGmi-ejwVuyf2ksMWicKbBeaZZI-pvy8vemXEcnMG_OBm-QsAJNOcxMFEW2gyyoUXp283536596mpstU/s1600-h/1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262375722242308706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 266px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJCTaljviPOnO50__AfND6ED7QoVkrwia7HAvgPZwlkZ8OG7ZgYTj5WGmi-ejwVuyf2ksMWicKbBeaZZI-pvy8vemXEcnMG_OBm-QsAJNOcxMFEW2gyyoUXp283536596mpstU/s400/1.jpg" border="0" /></a> <div>There, done at last :) Hope you enjoyed them!</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Ruthhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10236253702237918037noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30075799.post-25662726532360662192008-10-28T19:56:00.003-05:002008-10-28T20:00:51.836-05:00More Tamarack Pictures...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBxgF6B8j79BcxgiotKILr0povzgzBPf-1gayLm8txPCltbvoSm6_9LHS4TQsjZ8Dmam0XIdHwFXEiSNXvCG9E8MuJ6Dj7_Tq6K3CXfkIO0F9xLX3UDY5OhuK3RQ6zHKsWgJ_p/s1600-h/Cabin10.jpg">Late-night cabin shots :)<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262374179124237730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBxgF6B8j79BcxgiotKILr0povzgzBPf-1gayLm8txPCltbvoSm6_9LHS4TQsjZ8Dmam0XIdHwFXEiSNXvCG9E8MuJ6Dj7_Tq6K3CXfkIO0F9xLX3UDY5OhuK3RQ6zHKsWgJ_p/s400/Cabin10.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDjVXp1NlGiwO5jDsMGAJoIohahwX9om7EJ5N6_Y_qWllFUJNG7Sgx6rH7MwwJww3eQMWqmOD8aeMp4zE944_aPNZ5Ay7yNSY7Hjn8eBOZ6P-5HePIHsD4pNt245TatcUR9OcY/s1600-h/Cabin9.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262374181986928866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDjVXp1NlGiwO5jDsMGAJoIohahwX9om7EJ5N6_Y_qWllFUJNG7Sgx6rH7MwwJww3eQMWqmOD8aeMp4zE944_aPNZ5Ay7yNSY7Hjn8eBOZ6P-5HePIHsD4pNt245TatcUR9OcY/s400/Cabin9.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1p1_iqhgfHeyG8IR2f8ETAkqvxAYkqQ-3xUA_UIZ7YQHI2qHCDw70cIJgisVEF4GF3Y5OlNwKEGfg1AYZK_w4xtJerDsgT8AJ2veCCOCApsDTcCEe34L3cBzzwczTs23BYerc/s1600-h/Cabin8.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262374166212822306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1p1_iqhgfHeyG8IR2f8ETAkqvxAYkqQ-3xUA_UIZ7YQHI2qHCDw70cIJgisVEF4GF3Y5OlNwKEGfg1AYZK_w4xtJerDsgT8AJ2veCCOCApsDTcCEe34L3cBzzwczTs23BYerc/s400/Cabin8.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWOT6v3VR2NS3y5yvvS4tTwtQYa6cH_fMj1hLtIMecnp4Yd-M0bAG5NKkTuzs94C8gjkpNVRk6HkdElwfJSjZjSQU5GfnOvdZ48niCNeqvSPzRhecy9uHkwtJK8nnY-9xv7Xgd/s1600-h/Cabin5.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262374158999027138" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWOT6v3VR2NS3y5yvvS4tTwtQYa6cH_fMj1hLtIMecnp4Yd-M0bAG5NKkTuzs94C8gjkpNVRk6HkdElwfJSjZjSQU5GfnOvdZ48niCNeqvSPzRhecy9uHkwtJK8nnY-9xv7Xgd/s400/Cabin5.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7wfHFGi48HV6oc1KtEizOFO1Tg8eMiXSGkAm1qKpaBeSah17abwHBIeMHcjUONUxtDy32xdz6hxRi2B-73DUA2CyexETCLne6NHEHEeGXx6OQm2Ux9fWLD44868MuhRNikHgQ/s1600-h/Cabin7.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262373760408403698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7wfHFGi48HV6oc1KtEizOFO1Tg8eMiXSGkAm1qKpaBeSah17abwHBIeMHcjUONUxtDy32xdz6hxRi2B-73DUA2CyexETCLne6NHEHEeGXx6OQm2Ux9fWLD44868MuhRNikHgQ/s400/Cabin7.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlkTDndzIyu-XwapMpyC3AEGyrP6xA-hO5reCIk4oihj7fWd4lPjeTiiPv6vmbriazFz-iLWZgsQVhOUvw_29L7w4FkBsW2osOJJk_1o_nRmxDMFjuQjkVVUTXvkd3R441aUVC/s1600-h/Cabin6.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262373752918037986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlkTDndzIyu-XwapMpyC3AEGyrP6xA-hO5reCIk4oihj7fWd4lPjeTiiPv6vmbriazFz-iLWZgsQVhOUvw_29L7w4FkBsW2osOJJk_1o_nRmxDMFjuQjkVVUTXvkd3R441aUVC/s400/Cabin6.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8D6OeT3KfqR6FR2a1FwFjTQDcKpmc6tvoX6VNpCqCytDaR5tXKJ3vwWSkYm43SRLtrlne34dCPX8SVjR8I4aZC3uIBJI3Q1WibCV0LZnMMfqZIxc61oIF2_8Yz-r2VE5P5ZHV/s1600-h/Cabin4.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262373747759352978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 310px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8D6OeT3KfqR6FR2a1FwFjTQDcKpmc6tvoX6VNpCqCytDaR5tXKJ3vwWSkYm43SRLtrlne34dCPX8SVjR8I4aZC3uIBJI3Q1WibCV0LZnMMfqZIxc61oIF2_8Yz-r2VE5P5ZHV/s400/Cabin4.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizFUoUQ2kxyKDWYx3-rwacAXxlmssXny_pTDFFUe5PBf5qfe5mhbk0zFnBNtgzL0ZbgTgwzMl5dfKvpr1V94ZVCPFH4xpgb4QI7DG0shMPONed-X_ONvm3zM_J26qoeRqAhfqS/s1600-h/Cabin3.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262373747584933714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizFUoUQ2kxyKDWYx3-rwacAXxlmssXny_pTDFFUe5PBf5qfe5mhbk0zFnBNtgzL0ZbgTgwzMl5dfKvpr1V94ZVCPFH4xpgb4QI7DG0shMPONed-X_ONvm3zM_J26qoeRqAhfqS/s400/Cabin3.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div> </div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Ruthhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10236253702237918037noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30075799.post-70986959085324721092008-09-26T14:34:00.009-05:002008-09-26T15:06:23.804-05:00Cooking in Bulgaria<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgflIFVyY1A50FCahWDPvsGmM1tJXvubmkPQ-ZCVicBuoFegEUIGytcnJ33tI9jC7pVaCYYuAiv11Eq_z8eXCM0f2ivT_J5C2TFTZAjiaHRgEsM_aNnSBtPwiV6KgMngGvdVt5R/s1600-h/George+Doubtful.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250422329259564162" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" height="288" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgflIFVyY1A50FCahWDPvsGmM1tJXvubmkPQ-ZCVicBuoFegEUIGytcnJ33tI9jC7pVaCYYuAiv11Eq_z8eXCM0f2ivT_J5C2TFTZAjiaHRgEsM_aNnSBtPwiV6KgMngGvdVt5R/s320/George+Doubtful.jpg" width="173" border="0" /></a> I just finished typing up our Bulgarian journal. Here's a blog post I made in Bulgaria but never posted...<br /><div><div><div><br /><blockquote>At the Bombadils, we had the opportunity to "return" some of the wonderful hospitality we’d received by preparing dinner for the family. That was easier imagined than done. Finding all the ingredients for our meal was the first challenge: shopping in a foreign store is no joke! Thanks to our trusty translator, George, though, we got some of what we needed, and lots of what we didn't need. </blockquote></div><div><blockquote><p>Then came the challenge of preparing the "substitutes", "innovations", and "make-dos". Fixing up whole shrimp was truly a once-in-a-lifetime experience. We've created a handy guide for your own future endevours:</p><p></p><br /><p><strong><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNsx80C9Js97VnAQ1DEmAed4k9-AaP1jfxN9hMJJ-roxjhht6oL0y8YVZaeJiudXuiHOTPCXefek_xHbyjB1545Gs_WVd1C2IBDg4PawFnHsDA4O94CUsSlNCS6MghSx2l8dbu/s1600-h/Loopy.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250422923376742802" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 128px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 246px" height="290" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNsx80C9Js97VnAQ1DEmAed4k9-AaP1jfxN9hMJJ-roxjhht6oL0y8YVZaeJiudXuiHOTPCXefek_xHbyjB1545Gs_WVd1C2IBDg4PawFnHsDA4O94CUsSlNCS6MghSx2l8dbu/s320/Loopy.jpg" width="150" border="0" /></a>The Lou-ru Guide to Preparing Shrimp</strong> </p><p>1. Decapitate the creature by twisting its head off. Mind you don't let the green and orange gushy stuff (is it poop? is it brains?) spray in your face. Also, be careful to avoid looking into those pouting, pleading eyes –Precious Moments couldn't have made them better.<br />2. While grasping your shrimp, wrench its hairy legs from it. Retrieve the legs from the floor and the shrimp from the top of the refrigerator. Pull out those red and pussy veins.<br />3. Gently slide your manicured fingernail beneath the shell, and while maintaining a death-grip on its tail, slide the shell off. Retrieve the shrimp from the floor. Rinse thoroughly. <br /></p><br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250421905392006482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 284px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 192px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="255" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTTrX3utzkoPBHwsOrsttj-LCPLiG1ocpKh7DU9Um1bV-GmXBeHPU89zrnGr5ocWcIFIqmwCKVbMJjIn1qsFZY6ktoE-h1eWez8KaXEmTQTssqXy7vd42RjrwNwVtIhvT08wvH/s400/Shrimp.jpg" width="352" border="0" />A bowl of carnage, 2 seriously queasy stomachs and an hour later, you'll find a handful of nicely cleaned shrimp such as you could purchase in Canada for about $2.00.</p></blockquote><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit33x4GGV6YjFxJlxN9_2dRgebyx-KVEYwRDOCGvUgGwOMSWhVZ9tbBhUbjhrknw5tnYzT9l8pPCs2mIUcxFOQMTPY2p1yz0hpae9D_xKCqjZKX5vTV9tuYn9nxcpM-u-_QPRb/s1600-h/Family.jpg"></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250421899611784386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit33x4GGV6YjFxJlxN9_2dRgebyx-KVEYwRDOCGvUgGwOMSWhVZ9tbBhUbjhrknw5tnYzT9l8pPCs2mIUcxFOQMTPY2p1yz0hpae9D_xKCqjZKX5vTV9tuYn9nxcpM-u-_QPRb/s400/Family.jpg" border="0" /></a> The Final Menu: <blockquote><ul><li>Coconut shrimp avec le salsa kiwi</li><li>Pizza (chicken, hotdog :S, mozzerella, feta, pepper, olives, shrooms, hot peppers)</li><li>Fruit salad & special Bulgarian cream</li></ul><p><br /></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250421901162665970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="327" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLppLmtlFyjBhkDTilFZw33fyEFJBaTUPTk7qFiDCR2MzYI38JVYfcPpDwyw8Dz9PO6k9_O89YuWks98zI67ywx5qllQETk5Ka7Z3wQQWk6f72be2wp2Xzss3HkGy5hKHiUrVo/s400/Jifka+and+Paully.jpg" width="244" border="0" /></blockquote></div></div>Ruthhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10236253702237918037noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30075799.post-22860599764459886732008-09-23T21:46:00.007-05:002008-09-23T22:20:31.604-05:00Tamarack 2008<div><div><div>Because I can't stand Facebook's Foto application...<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyKQxEfeq0t1thPnaxd-DpwBXqKhnV1g4nccwW3_E5MEyqTBX-OAcvfM04PzhGu6peHBIPWs1CNxgl-dkeV8YtEiMiqCv4ehOnZN4e20BLbl0H6JGYwAUXIHpqzUoQ2fwkKIMo/s1600-h/Camp+Tamarack+First+Night+004.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249416942633692306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyKQxEfeq0t1thPnaxd-DpwBXqKhnV1g4nccwW3_E5MEyqTBX-OAcvfM04PzhGu6peHBIPWs1CNxgl-dkeV8YtEiMiqCv4ehOnZN4e20BLbl0H6JGYwAUXIHpqzUoQ2fwkKIMo/s400/Camp+Tamarack+First+Night+004.JPG" border="0" /></a> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249415389924357634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs9AGT6EWuKaZTsDs8KMK5Kv_3nC1lsSQMkTT3L5Oxe-4CHlCIVmg926HOKap84ya0SNQiYz2WbTYoNOcopyqpEvu-5Sr_SqEAZ8eu5PL0n6bB5k8CVXHZdF7tDTOVPkSk4hoX/s400/Camp+Tamarack+First+Night+005.JPG" border="0" /> A LITTLE excited for the week :D <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249415408893487634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2Gxzag1Et60pFogAkSj3-JMIo6WeO2-RJBOWLuRCKoLClesQIbuzbooOMYvJCUJQpEagFcA7ppCL1Ho25DszWnfFjcEH4mKke0f40dt-kNvRrYlP5RjsDM_IhnSsD84JNT92I/s400/Camp+Tamarack+First+Night+014.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249415392634261314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWNMb1CVJiT52pMTeumxAjMvCgZbZAqr7S7O5fwQ6jOv7cIoUIUuhLc4_hhEiGfPJqXUv2ExSajH0yr3hYzOcTUe3bqWD9L7tc5sPn6agvQgL9wiyQoh80efjob6osaMDcC_jq/s400/Camp+Tamarack+First+Night+009.JPG" border="0" />The spirits of Harvey and Eomer live on... (Tamarack '07)<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249415399171104290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqLCs0cCb_18XoPMXHQ2TTEGi9dHhBgmAkvMVbt4iQG4KuLgRvyG1zy69_i8RmeFGuvo53URg66aAoXU-CO1hnznzq-2-LEEfTjgcDsiCOFNAG2G259fQXdr-nv84Ao0kN31An/s400/Camp+Tamarack+First+Night+011.JPG" border="0" />And have already captured the heart (and mind too, apparently) of one maiden.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_kXnk5mvLgL9gzThSbfhGzMBkoRMFIa37Y2Xzw7GECwUfDN4IoiP9bWCXeZ7OW-YbzzNhiDKErRKNHrmZ8fBJpZINFVSNUUg-q8Wv5kU68MNj-TofAt7R4e6xbBBg3lHIGbpf/s1600-h/Camp+Tamarack+First+Night+025.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249415794246429506" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_kXnk5mvLgL9gzThSbfhGzMBkoRMFIa37Y2Xzw7GECwUfDN4IoiP9bWCXeZ7OW-YbzzNhiDKErRKNHrmZ8fBJpZINFVSNUUg-q8Wv5kU68MNj-TofAt7R4e6xbBBg3lHIGbpf/s400/Camp+Tamarack+First+Night+025.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdoU4JwWRPD7O7tlh5mexjNdH5DO7t0v0TE1u238o2ZV1QeesWYDJJ1lP_YKu3P4tMOmVYkF01lQ-r_uYC9jUwmaAv0Ra3yvgl50gpPDkrSEX-B6IpeQ0c7L8hT1r2STMpAjB6/s1600-h/Camp+Tamarack+First+Night+036.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249415793990317522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdoU4JwWRPD7O7tlh5mexjNdH5DO7t0v0TE1u238o2ZV1QeesWYDJJ1lP_YKu3P4tMOmVYkF01lQ-r_uYC9jUwmaAv0Ra3yvgl50gpPDkrSEX-B6IpeQ0c7L8hT1r2STMpAjB6/s400/Camp+Tamarack+First+Night+036.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKUUwipoF1byKa3l0noc1BG5ZAcD2GNf_dpJ5749TuZTiZfEQk-YP3l6q9S1iBCWekNyT7WQY8fyaAg0OIGXXfMcRgLuhrXoai5KRbBlDZXSx2PAIvbwiFoROK31CymnWC1BsK/s1600-h/Camp+Tamarack+First+Night+038.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249415798420628466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKUUwipoF1byKa3l0noc1BG5ZAcD2GNf_dpJ5749TuZTiZfEQk-YP3l6q9S1iBCWekNyT7WQY8fyaAg0OIGXXfMcRgLuhrXoai5KRbBlDZXSx2PAIvbwiFoROK31CymnWC1BsK/s400/Camp+Tamarack+First+Night+038.JPG" border="0" /></a> And who doesn't have a picture with Louise cross-eyed and Leah with her tongue out :P<br /></div><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249419832963562642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOsGAgd3tJIOFwbLelZAClnhrPkTr2Y01qtiq23eteGh_6Q6JbzqDet32toKxze5J6Fci5SaJsUYiUlOu3pR14g0_vQyWTPl7MUIfNObcyYK01-Y7qnvwN2-YUNGHhAdQHc8lO/s400/Camp+Tamarack+026.JPG" border="0" />Ooooooh, sour plums!<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249418910282744178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5jSHC4fvMPM9zpze5eS1AWr91r7yyOgaA3qZI5ELHOFFbhKd3KmiTyVwN7_wISDQ6sgZ_vRYIu0GnRaM5TwFGjIvDJUKg112SCv1gqjqYG_cy9Vz4yXpR-5wo4fqJ7Foutz4c/s400/Camp+Tamarack+022.JPG" border="0" />Prince Charming?</div><br /><div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249419830433168402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG8nLLbH-QPl0momLusnZ9jyLm5JghOVqJUgClxBeBsC8vx2tNw0pN6fPN2SlsAMB9BeqhRZZGeCkUXXgkXoJC2zoVjV_EZxnHhxC6ANOwtzRGTx8PpUSLIvhjlRb-eo04VkKn/s400/Camp+Tamarack+020.JPG" border="0" />Or the one that got away... :)<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249419849729385618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU9-eo_YDWczfntjqLzukJxZwbtvaH_S82DfFmq25rPddKQGxN-hV_ZQU9s7-64eHwRT0prjcBV7Xtjrjoi4UJ-YZds6fWZfJ2N5jgfeOkYGI2l2YhA2Ll0xrOoSaQ374GHnf3/s400/Camp+Tamarack+029.JPG" border="0" /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249419838964552402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEfKR53bXJxYIhqm9hcnsk1DEYIgXGvKgJNBJ5krkY_FXgKLX1XRIrds2eQAs1sTaxl6ZRW7IIGsRTu79ShA22ACk0rTxw2f2aDOsfkJC5yiKuEyk-H3_KBbArGxhxNZl6HL2I/s400/Camp+Tamarack+027.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249419851635551362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9zRNh9aOL2RsIMM7J8GtWEy-jFy8v1gN1N_QOEP1YwvqOkWxYVQ-JUxivuVOqCb7dogM-ivHxcyeEqjdhrD-LOJPmTP33ZhvAau8vmx0-U6In1jS2XX4MU96Ai8CLRI16d-gt/s400/Camp+Tamarack+033.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249418890671789074" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBW9d9Hg15g7vgGK9K0nQZkjCEA99pkLmLioXDLkO0cU4gbFpxif7DRpvISvimgj_rglfC60Uev8o0tEGAoLdq3S9j9GaR5h5xwsQim_ZyKQWcXrQmIr2BYon3ggfeQ0oTAYme/s400/Camp+Tamarack+008.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249418899488842898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9LFX6ttAoGnY2W4rwTyBXUehbAqshRDZUUk35IRhPqkg66lNzX4QxzraEl8qVFsmm3DZa0t00eA5sRsYz-fyhWWKa8_Omt5tVfcKRHcZ0dwgNA1V5encM1XJmG5lyXlkldSJ3/s400/Camp+Tamarack+010.JPG" border="0" /> <div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249418905525562178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ1n0mxCTIzvw1JLkzVOwkhsfbW3fZzTn_nsvex1m7zKmv9cwcy-GHEZuobPRYd5DDzYFRfcFwdai9TXmBe3s4wV8hYk-_Feim9vAQcrA83Cq5uTpM7ZcW17qtUpoGhzbL1RXp/s400/Camp+Tamarack+014.JPG" border="0" /></div></div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249421286517034050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoNsXoMRJwbY49ymj8IZhJxNLkBOvujotI14cysonMxSUGdVASeZNg0EFKSeySThz3DZmHadaw8ioEiRbNov_FUDMOY7GUCUp2AQF6Z8RHFQ1eXSUNLx7MtoM29jgVCmdC_G2b/s400/Camp+Tamarack+039.JPG" border="0" /><br />And more to come, when I get around to it...Ruthhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10236253702237918037noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30075799.post-69784536398304762842008-09-04T20:51:00.003-05:002008-09-04T21:00:25.074-05:00Sometimes The Answer Couldn't Be More Obvious<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB7AOChHNy-4iv5-lEg2wFAEYKRiYWViEWlEuOCXqXWeJbVL81sOTDHkW52VBkrdYq59aEItYoQJYIB5rJRN6bY-NtJSVAq9-ObCrHMUhDZcrZTLdwO9q0q0MO37hyphenhyphen3hhAckOT/s1600-h/Camp+Tamarack+First+Night+008.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242351146015141074" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB7AOChHNy-4iv5-lEg2wFAEYKRiYWViEWlEuOCXqXWeJbVL81sOTDHkW52VBkrdYq59aEItYoQJYIB5rJRN6bY-NtJSVAq9-ObCrHMUhDZcrZTLdwO9q0q0MO37hyphenhyphen3hhAckOT/s400/Camp+Tamarack+First+Night+008.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Camp Tamarack, August 2008<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtBKobi7ANv4XjdUIXUyWm7yAJpx7V-67o-3s5-MEOrzlVEHkOqiM7ocbLAUku0sc_Q-Geh0Td76mdXol3Hiu7J2wEv7ISC4FgHrZ9lIDJzA4uIruH1zZ-yYF_9xZrJVyqSBCc/s1600-h/Camp+Tamarack+First+Night+008.JPG"></a><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div>Ruthhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10236253702237918037noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30075799.post-48919560938948232922008-08-19T17:11:00.005-05:002008-08-19T17:38:53.827-05:00August 18, 1970.August 18, 1970. A lovely and beautiful bride was married to her dashing prince. His name was Clifford, hers, Henriette. Many were there to salute the happy day, and many toasts were made for a long and wonderful marriage, including...<br /><br /><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaeuAvtTXLoTxTELxdsY_QddwXhwmy0N_dK85XEsMWlp1OA1GohPQR2sNCJrw-KxfJH_K_3urgskdeeETyCeU5vlLFnTnds3_mS5Oqop2W9EVKd3UwQ9otMklJTFeCyY0y_tXu/s1600-h/Toast.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236355623271594018" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaeuAvtTXLoTxTELxdsY_QddwXhwmy0N_dK85XEsMWlp1OA1GohPQR2sNCJrw-KxfJH_K_3urgskdeeETyCeU5vlLFnTnds3_mS5Oqop2W9EVKd3UwQ9otMklJTFeCyY0y_tXu/s400/Toast.jpg" border="0" /></a>two of their kids? Take a good look at this picture: it's got so much in it. That really is Dad & Mom's original wedding wine, which just demonstrates how long a Dutch couple can hold onto something (they've even got a piece of wedding cake!). This is 36 years after the fact, which also goes to show how long a couple can hold onto a good thing... </p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236361148371774162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 260px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 313px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="353" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOyUWnpdpO_nmt8zVN0sMpIN2B404ZjcVqpFM0wz2PADknE2zUh0BOasGy4vGH7kicX2CL9sid_8KeABJ9YeoR3Kd1DmdVspwtUQrMFq2s6bijNP8qLyVugElpWXO4WZ5C5zrM/s400/Toast+II.jpg" width="276" border="0" /></p><p>And look closely at the source of the wine -a little ironic?!<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236361160295284194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2GO3T-RSb5H356nIG6m0s6H1zXh8BYQUGrpKhsftZP604xrTu3td5blHxuxxPg_ogf2WXaedJ5nMvw_MgA8x8a6XElBoIu17-13PIOGPvVwiJqDNf0kfdfwirFLw0sfDsCnJV/s400/Dad+%26+Mom.jpg" border="0" />God is faithful. Congrats and all our love, Dad and Mom!<br /></p>Ruthhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10236253702237918037noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30075799.post-57693867152646364322008-07-12T17:08:00.013-05:002008-12-11T15:15:40.104-06:00A Bulgarian Legend<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDvz5X6zYQdCzAuTt-hW4f_jtwmokg7UR4d6zUtsdqtX7q7WbBW9QrTYFnmxSg5XiKhL5_jgVx_zYcCn6pvh5mWdJWvsOITU2_gxprcIQDrwegkTdJEBNxWRJKTT0khBGL3U-g/s1600-h/2004-07-08--pavelsko-in-the-rodopi-mountains-bulgaria%2520008.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222253221436447026" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="126" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDvz5X6zYQdCzAuTt-hW4f_jtwmokg7UR4d6zUtsdqtX7q7WbBW9QrTYFnmxSg5XiKhL5_jgVx_zYcCn6pvh5mWdJWvsOITU2_gxprcIQDrwegkTdJEBNxWRJKTT0khBGL3U-g/s200/2004-07-08--pavelsko-in-the-rodopi-mountains-bulgaria%2520008.jpg" width="189" border="0" /></a> <blockquote>The following story is thoroughly "doctrinally unsound" :) but it gives an<br />excellent description of Bulgarian countryside and people.<br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>"Why is Bulgaria so beautiful?"</strong> from a Rodopian<br />perspective. Our story-teller is Tinka :)<br /></blockquote><div></div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb1L5O2a-0rsYYdpYliW52zMoadgRR8e8o2DF1aFKPh82WTjpfeIZYi8Ky4YLJPM7EOI9QqhmE4iadgKSdb-iqetThtu7W2CgZG3HOglYhJawkiCkIf71XzY-2XWF22EM3cKZe/s1600-h/srebarna.jpg"></a></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>"After God created the earth, he gave each nation a special gift. To Austria he granted a piece of the Alps. To Australia he gave the rough and rugged outback, to Canada, a generous portion of ice and snow :P, to Greece he gave a gorgeous Mediterranean coast... etc, and so on. But behind each country was creeping a devil. After each country had received his gift, the devil stole the best portion of the gift and put it in his bag. At last, it was Bulgaria’s turn to receive his gift. Alas, Bulgaria was the last country, and there was no gift for him! "Who took Bulgaria’s gift?" said God. Then he looked around, and saw the devil with his bag. God seized the bag and gave it to Bulgaria, and that is how Bulgaria came to have the best of each country in the world." <div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzRNqUx1ICEobUHmlam2Xbr4H3AgkQHckmHdqHmtS00Dg1wIE0rHlCUMJ31NmT8NQk5kAvB3mo_jf3Qo3N2cu3Y5JhmSDPfvXc6Iieq9LcNKPpyoQerX5TeMXeZ3SRi16BKGT-/s1600-h/image.jpg"></a></div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb1L5O2a-0rsYYdpYliW52zMoadgRR8e8o2DF1aFKPh82WTjpfeIZYi8Ky4YLJPM7EOI9QqhmE4iadgKSdb-iqetThtu7W2CgZG3HOglYhJawkiCkIf71XzY-2XWF22EM3cKZe/s1600-h/srebarna.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222253215177605778" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 207px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 117px" height="114" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb1L5O2a-0rsYYdpYliW52zMoadgRR8e8o2DF1aFKPh82WTjpfeIZYi8Ky4YLJPM7EOI9QqhmE4iadgKSdb-iqetThtu7W2CgZG3HOglYhJawkiCkIf71XzY-2XWF22EM3cKZe/s200/srebarna.jpg" width="207" border="0" /></a></div><br /><div></div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzRNqUx1ICEobUHmlam2Xbr4H3AgkQHckmHdqHmtS00Dg1wIE0rHlCUMJ31NmT8NQk5kAvB3mo_jf3Qo3N2cu3Y5JhmSDPfvXc6Iieq9LcNKPpyoQerX5TeMXeZ3SRi16BKGT-/s1600-h/image.jpg"></a></div>Ruthhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10236253702237918037noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30075799.post-15697520008423924842008-06-19T10:01:00.004-05:002008-07-09T21:19:52.001-05:00Bulgaria Report, The Unabridged Version :)<p>There's also an earlier update available at <a href="http://acitizenofheaven.blogspot.com/">Louise's blog... </a><br /><br />So, after we’ve said “we should really write an update” literally a hundred times, here we are, sitting, typing and doggedly punching an email out to you. If this gets to you, we’ll have succeeded :) The truth is, nothing short of a lifetime has passed, and the thought of putting that all on paper is daunting indeed… There’s so much to tell about!<br /><br />Ahhh… now Louise is back and is asking “Now, where do we start?!!” We know this is horrendously long: it’s the unabridged version of an email –sorry!<br /><br /><strong>Todor & Daniella’s, Pomorie</strong> --Ruth<br /> After the Bombadils’, we moved to Pomorie on the coast of the Black Sea. Here we met Todor & Daniella, and their four (!) children (four kids in Bulgaria is almost unheard of… it made us feel like we were back home in the Dutch community :) Dariel is the oldest; he’s the boy that wrote us before our trip, declaring that he enjoyed having “salutary” conversations (and no, we certainly didn’t know that word before our ESL student taught it to us ;) He enjoys books like Narnia and LOTR (which seem to be universal in Bulgaria), has a glint in his eye which reveals his love for fun, and was a most appropriate wise man for our play, (despite his short 12 years of life experience :). Then there’s Debora (not “Debra”, but Deb-o-ra, as she was careful to correct me), who’s 11. Debora is one of those people who take a little while to get to know, but are well-worth knowing when you do. She likes creating things, being artistic and the apartment was full of her creations. The small apartment was also very full of her little sisters, who were always close behind or around their big sister. Jessie is a five year old with big, beautiful eyes, and Becky (3) is a bundle of energy that was always popping around some corner and calling out a cheery “HELLO!”<br /> We may have mentioned something about the way time works in Bulgaria; it, well, sort of doesn’t work. The truth is, Bulgaria has a time zone all of its own: a slow and meandering one, where the sun is the only thing that really regulates things and prevents Bulgarians from squeezing in 25 or 26 hours into each day, as they’d like to. We really felt (and enjoyed :) that at Todor and Daniella’s. Each night found us cozily in their kitchen, talking until 2 or 3 in the morning. Todor and Daniella spent 10 years volunteering abroad for Youth With a Mission (a Christian outreach organization), and the stories they have to tell are truly amazing! They really experienced the meaning of “God will provide” as they traveled about with 4 children in tow! This email is getting long, though, so I’ll stop here. We have some of the stories safely secured in our journals.<br /><br /><strong>Yordan and Kalina, Pomorie</strong> – Louise<br /> Okay. Get ready for the love chapter. Ha! got you worried, didn’t I? ;) we’ll tell those stories later… ;) but for now, we want to tell you about this special family; they were particularly demonstrative in their show of affection – I hope the following memories and descriptions are not too sappy! J love, love, love; I love love, do you love love? hehe :)<br /> From the moment that we entered Kalina and Yordan’s home, Ruth and I were wrapped up in love and welcomed as part of their family. Upon our first meeting with Ralitsa (12) and Mariela (7), we were welcomed with such wonderful, heartwarming hugs as I’ve never experienced before – hugs which were more than those momentary ‘flash hugs’, hugs which one could sense more than words could say. Their home was happy and fun filled, full of singing – singing ALL the time! during our time there, we taught them various English songs including “There was an old woman…” but oh, we never wanted to hear about that old woman again! we must have sung that song a thousand times! yet they never tired of singing these songs over and over again J Kalina instilled in her girls a love for music and song; they’d even all listen to music together with Yordan over Skype. Just 10 days before we arrived at their home, Yordan had moved to Finland, where he and his family are hoping to emigrate as soon as the conditions are right with his job and community. It is very hard for each of them to be separated from each other; there was more than a few tears shed for his absence. It was so touching to hear Kalina talk about her husband and to hear the delight in each of their voices and to see it in their eyes when they heard his voice. From what we heard about Yordan, he is a wonderful family man, a romantic husband, and one who cares so much for the environment that his family grows up in. Yordan and Kalina decided to move to Finland to seek a better future both for their children and themselves; they’re both quite fed up with Bulgaria, especially with the Communist history and post-communist mindset and the immoral culture.<br /><br /> For lack of time (and possibly by this point, interest on your part ;)) The memories from our time at Kalina’s house are much to special to let them pass by unsaid, and yet there’s so much to write about. And besides which, Rome is waiting outside our door, yet here we are, typing, typing, typing away….) so point form will have to do.<br /><br />* Kalina: petite, young-looking (and young :) mom who is “one of the girls” and every bit as spunky and fun as a young person. We enjoyed many talks with her after our late night dinners, extending into the wee hours of the morning.<br />* 1AM walks on the beach by the moonlight<br />* singing ALLLLL the time – silly songs, happy songs, Christian songs, fun songs<br />* searching for sea shells by the Black Sea shore; exclamations of the girls on the beauty and design of each one<br />* creating a picture/design with sea shells and rocks that we had found<br />* I got to play piano here! it was so delightful… I just can’t wait to get home and play my piano again though…<br />* learning about all sorts of things in our various ‘classes’ when we were going through their homeschooling lessons<br />* listening to the girls play piano and practice for their concerts and recitals<br />* We were a little dumbfounded at the girls’ love for bacteria and spiders and fungus – it seemed slightly out of character, considering that their home was the most UNFRIENDLY place for such creatures. Their home was always incredibly spotlessly clean, due to the tireless efforts of Kalina, who took great delight in making their home as neat and clean as it could be.<br />* their impeccable manners – each of them was an amazing hostess, always asking us first and checking if we needed anything, or if we needed a nap or tea or something to eat etc etc.<br />* their pet history: while we were there they were taking care of a rooster named Chernovsky “blackie”, and a turtle (forgot his name). They had also had pet pheasants, pet rabbits, and parrots/love birds… this family looooves any living thing!<br />* Kalina takes care of a sweet little 3 year old Jacqueline; she’s almost like their adopted sister… we had fun getting to know her a little bit<br />* some quotes from the girls: “I am sooooo happy right now”… “I love you so sooo soooooooooo much!” [while giving us vigorous and lengthy hugs] “I’m going to miss you”<br />* goodnight kisses/hugs<br />* going out for dinner to a nice restaurant in Nessebar, an old town/fortress on the coast, with Iavor, Jishka, and Kalina, and spending the majority of the evening in religious debates…<br />* going to church in Burgas and meeting the wonderful people there including<br />- Iavor (the pastor), his wife Jishka and their 1 year old son Javor<br />- Maria, 20 years old, sweetest girl ever, whom we convinced to visit us in Canada<br />- Meetko and Yanny, the 2 guys in the youth group; both were so sweet and friendly; Meetko had been to the States before, and will again going when he gets his visa ready<br />- Julia & Mishu and their 3 year old daughter, our next hosts<br />- Meetko & Elena, a sweet young couple, recently married; Meetko runs a hotel and Elena’s an opera singer<br />- Lily, a professional piano player/ music teacher<br />- there’s others too, but this is all I can do for now<br /><br />One last memory to segue into the next home: during our stay at Kalina’s, I got sick with my second sinus infection EVER – for 2 days straight I was trying to turn the faucet of my nose ‘off’ but it just kept running and running until it was raw… not a fun time… and then poor Ruth got it too (we’ve been sharing everything else on this trip, why not share the germs too? :P). However, Ruth’s version of this cold went straight to her chest, and such a nasssty cold/cough it was! poor girl… she got lots of sympathy – but having a cold made for a difficult time at the next home we stayed at (Mishu & Julia’s). Both of us were still drained from being sick.<br /><br /><strong>Mishu & Julia’s, Bourgas</strong> --Ruth<br /> Perhaps Mishu & Julia best illustrate just how excited and committed Bulgarian Christians are to homeschooling. It really has affected their entire home. Their daughter Lily is just three years old, and still mastering Bulgarian. Despite this, they were quick to take part in every opportunity available: they were excited to host us and to glean English from our conversations, and Julia and Lily faithfully attended the final conference in Pomorie. Mishu & Julia are teaching Lily English as well as Bulgarian, so that she will be well prepared for the English homeschooling programs. Lily is a bouncing, pig-tailed little girl who likes to learn. Her 3 year old rendition of the ABC song is something else :) Mishu works for AVG anti-virus, and “all that sort of thing”, and his computer speals were interesting but quickly went over our non-techy heads :) Mishu met Julia in university, where they both studied together. She enjoys translating Reformed/ homeschooling materials into English.<br /><br /><strong>Hasovitsa Conference</strong> --Ruth<br /> On May something we set out for Hasovitsa. The curving, twisting road followed a meandering river, and Lou’s ever-responsive stomach reacted accordingly. Of course, car-sickness is bad of itself, but when you have two car-sick little girls draped across you, one gets a double-dose. Thus we greeted Hasovitsa with varying sighs of relief, the loudest coming from the turmoiled depths of poor Louise. We stepped into the “Rodopian Region”.<br /><br /><strong>The Rodopian Region, for anyone who likes Geography/ History</strong> --Ruth<br /> The Rodopian mountains span much of Bulgaria. In many ways, the region is a nation of its own. It is entirely different from the westernized Bulgarian coasts and plains: it is old Bulgaria, or Bulgaria as it once was. The landscape is different, for one: Hasovitsa is a little village perched on the edge of a mountain. Towering evergreen forests alternate with alpine meadows that always made me feel like running to the top of the mountain. The village itself is filled with authentic “old-ness”: old men and women walk about the streets dressed in knit sweaters & shawls, embroidered skirts and traditional wear (and no, this wasn’t a re-enactment for tourists!) They tended goats and brown cows, but the chickens and geese ran loose through the streets. This is all quite useless; we’ll have to show you pictures of the place because words can’t describe the village aura.<br /> The Rodopians have a saying, “The mountains bear people and the valleys bear pumpkins.” LOL, coming from mountain people, it sounds a little assuming, doesn’t it? The history of the region, though, reveals its truth. When the Ottoman invaders came and conquered Bulgaria, many people stayed behind in the cities and valleys. They capitulated and “converted”, and still today are known as half-Turks. On the flip side many people chose to remain Christian; the dissenters fled to the mountains and established another, true Bulgaria. These are the Rodopian mountain folk, the “people” (or non-pumpkins) of the saying. Today there remain duplicate villages: there will be a lower village peopled with former “half-Turks” and a mountain village established by those who fled. This history, perhaps, explains the pervasive Rodopian pride which they mix with humour. It’s always good for a laugh: their word for fork, for instance, is “forkalitsa”, which they like to joke is the root of the English word, not vice versa. Same with “potatnik” and “potato”, and even “Shapin” (or something close to that), which is an ancient Japanese (!!!) title :) Hmm, it was so interesting… and there are so many more stories to tell, but we also have those securely locked in a journal :) (Oh, one other thing: this isn’t necessarily 100% accurate, my memory and notes aren’t always that great!) And those are the real “people” of Bulgaria :)<br /><br /><strong>Back to the Hasovitsa Conference</strong> --Ruth<br /> The villa we slept in was as picture-perfect as Hasovitsa itself. It was heated only with fireplaces, built of concrete, block and tile, and could sleep 20 people in BEDS! (Have you ever heard of such a place?) We were heartily welcomed by our two hostesses, Zlatka and Tinka. The two ladies are sisters who live with their extended family in a huge house in the nearby city of Smollyen. Zlatka is a computer programmer and Tinka is a home-maker. They were so incredibly unique! Both had a hilarious sense of humor, a warm heart and vast knowledge of mountain herbs. There was hardly a day when they weren’t collecting something from the mountain-side, whether it was pine sprigs for pine honey (mmmm…) flowers for juice (!!!), or the like. LOL, they even pointed out the source of Viagra :) Zlatka has a sweet imp of a boy named Bobby (6 years). Bobby wore a wily, smily look about him and always had “a trick!” or knew “this trick!” We’re pretty sure he’s going to be a magician when he grows up :) Ninka (8) is his sister and the daughter of Tinka. When a girl is as sweet and kind as Ninka is, it’s a bit hard to describe her. She was a bit quiet, and obviously treasured every moment spent with friends. When Louise and I remember Ninka, we are also most encouraged by what God has enabled us to do for our Bulgarian friends. At one point in the week, an English friend of hers (Cindy) spoke to her mother. Hearing the English conversation, Ninka exclaimed, “Mom, Cindy speaks Bulgarian!” The truth is that Ninka wasn’t used to understanding English! That was SO exciting to hear :)<br /><br /><strong>Elian & Radoslava</strong> --Ruth<br /> I haven’t mentioned one of the main organizers of our trip yet: Radoslava. Before traveling to Hasovitsa, we stayed a few days at Elian & Slava’s house. They have two wonderful and lively daughters, Teddy (8) and Vicky (5). Teddy likes surpass the boys (she’s a confirmed tomboy), and yet she likes to dress up and dance. We’ve established her future career to be a lion tamer :) Vicky is constantly singing –in fact, due to her 5-year-old English skills, this was one of the main ways we got to know her. She loves to hold hands or hug. She’s also got an eye for fashion, and we’ve set her out as a future fashion designer, in the classic style of frilly flouncy dresses. Their father Elian works with computers as well and works admirably hard at his and Slava’s small business. By the end of the trip, Slava felt like a very close aunt for me. She’s a historian, and has a unique story or saying for every little custom or site one comes across. It was so sad to leave her, her girls, her wisdom and stories behind.<br /><br /><strong>Jivko and Iliana</strong> – Louise<br /> Jivko and Iliana have three children: Stephan (5), Gabbie (3) and Sammy (1). Jivko is a computer programmer and has his own business. We didn’t get to know him very well, because the only time that we had to talk to him was when we went out for dinner one night with his family and Elian and Radoslava’s family. The majority of the evening, their heads were huddled close as they debated and discussed the latest technology. During their deep conversations however, Ruth and I were able to talk with Iliana and Radoslava and get to know them. Iliana studied a total of five years to become a speech therapist, after which she promptly became a secretary for her pastor. Sometimes it’s strange how little we use our degrees and diplomas in our professions! Eventually she met and married Jivko (their love story is sweet and quite funny as well). Each of their three children are the sweetest, bubbliest, most giggling children you ever could meet. Their ability to speak English was low, yet they understood a lot more than I thought they would. They went absolutely berserk when we’d tickle them; it was hilarious to watch their antics when we played the ‘tickle game’ with them.<br /><br /><strong>More Hasovitsa Happenings</strong> (because we know this is WAY too long already!) --Ruth<br />-Enjoying coffee with cow-fresh milk (after fishing out all the floaties, of course!)<br />-Delicious Rodopian cooking: potato banitsa, croissants Bulgarian-style, flower tea, etc. etc.<br />-Feeding the multitude with pizza and quesadillas, thanks to the integral part of the ladies…, also made Terra Tor (a cold soup of cucumber and yoghurt) and Banitsa R-rr-rrruttt! (“Ruth” Bulgarianized –be sure to roll the “r”)<br />-The late nights continued… lots of planning, knocking our heads together to gather “lesson” plans or game plans for the next day (there’s a pun in there for you, Dad ;)<br />-Lots of late night talks over tea: telling ridiculous stories, jokes, past experiences… We learned the “Ruchenitsa”, a traditional Bulgarian wedding dance (no worries Mom, we don’t expect to put that to use ;)… Practising the chicken dance (some fun pictures from that :P)<br />-The crafty Tinka teaching us how to say “I want to be a Bulgarian bride!” :)<br />-The never ending songs of the children… every time the first words of “My God is so Big” were shouted, we would groan internally, grit our teeth and exuberantly (aka dutifully) join in :)<br />-Seeing lines of children holding hands, walking along a mountain path and singing “My God is So Big” because they wanted to…<br />-Walking along mountain paths... hmmm, beautiful<br />-Meeting Elena, the daughter of Tinka. At 14, she discusses the Scriptural references of CS. Lewis and Tolkien with her strongly atheist teachers! She was sweet, intelligent, always questioning the reasons behind concepts, always looking deeper. In two short days she became a good friend.<br />-Walking 3 km to the nearby village of Pisanitsa (or “Pizzanitza” as we joked with the kids) to buy ice cream. When the shopkeeper was nowhere to be found, we walked to his nearby home/ hotel, and from there received a ride back to the shop in a very old, sputtering Mercedes Benz that looked as if it would like to shoot off the mountain side<br />The week in Hasovitsa is definitely precious among our memories of Bulgaria!<br /><br />So that’s a small snippet of our experiences in Bulgaria. We hope to update you on the continuing adventures of Lou and Ru :P upon our return (internet access has been difficult!) God is blessing us and keeping us safe. We thank those of you who have been praying - we’ve really felt the Lord’s protection and guiding hand throughout the entire trip.</p>Ruthhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10236253702237918037noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30075799.post-3893750990587150052008-04-18T21:31:00.005-05:002008-12-11T15:15:41.004-06:00Education, Phillosophically Speaking<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDTjQx0rN6gE2Nv4m7m5w49PRvEpRzW5EaOO_nzjjTzR_4Dcr1qUmOMMV44Hd9TfVKLHacazbhuddeukcfKFR54LOmE6PMR25uvgNn-jjTXkh9fxVDCf38FgA6hHWekGmal6Ca/s1600-h/Dr+Phil.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5190782192171219922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 321px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 239px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="288" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDTjQx0rN6gE2Nv4m7m5w49PRvEpRzW5EaOO_nzjjTzR_4Dcr1qUmOMMV44Hd9TfVKLHacazbhuddeukcfKFR54LOmE6PMR25uvgNn-jjTXkh9fxVDCf38FgA6hHWekGmal6Ca/s400/Dr+Phil.jpg" width="377" border="0" /></a> <p>with Guest Lecturer, Phillip John<br /><br /><strong>Computer Technology: </strong>People are all confused about computers. I always see the family stuck to them, scowling & grunting, sometimes even howling. Odd, I tell you! Computers are really meant for showing pictures of Holly and baby animals and "bus-ducks" (thanks Google Images), and for the fascinating games of "Car-Car". (Co-author's note: it is regretful and necessary to point out that, at the tender age of 2, Phillip already shows signs of addiction to computer games, owing to the sad influence of father and uncle.)<br /><br /><strong>Spelling: </strong>Is not my best subject. Things started out poorlly with my dear grandma's counsell to Dad and Mom to spellll Phillip "properlly": with 2 "LL"s. I think I'llll ask my grandpa about this one: he's a speciallll ed teacher.</p><p><strong>Health: </strong>Everything feels better after Mommy kisses it.</p><p><strong>Driver's Ed/ Physics: </strong>It doesn't matter: everything, even car crashes, can be fixed with a kiss. (Experience based on dinky cars...)</p><p><strong>Home Economics: </strong>My favourite subject. As my extensive experience has shown, mothers and grandmas aren't too pleased when you shut everything --like the dishwasher, fridge or dryer-- behind them while they're still using it. But they do like help making salad, doing dishes, and that sort of thing. Oh, and sometimes aunts or uncles need motivation to clean their rooms: picking your way through the mess and saying "baach" (Dutch for "disgusting") will do just that.</p><p><strong>PhysEd: </strong>It's good to run on the spot or in circles around the house, but make sure you do it with the appropriate huffing and puffing noises (even if you're not really out of breath --then you sound like Daddy). And as my other uncles/ aunts have schooled me, "hockey is fun."</p><p><strong>Science: </strong>Woodweckkkers (better known as woodpeckers): they're not "pretty", not at all. "They're perfect."</p><p><strong>Phillosophy: </strong>Life is great when you're the only nephew on one side, and you've got doting uncles and aunts on the other :) It'll be even better when there's another baby on the way... Can't wait for "Baby Funner"! </p><p>We miss you Phillip! <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5190782200761154530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixkNIHIWyJkuD9QO1A_a9kdusrJuBL1p0yeQCGKXM55-9ApbQI_oVJOldoJvgo9m86Fx-Bmy726x18mtgpzp1h0masEelBIkgBQ4861XPCwsrU8FcdnQ12pgMZZPC3o3Mr6tKB/s400/Dr+Phil+in+podium.jpg" border="0" /></p>Ruthhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10236253702237918037noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30075799.post-51454770736943562942008-04-08T22:31:00.003-05:002008-12-11T15:15:42.028-06:00The Next Few Months... Bulgaria Trip<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI_m1Ro8eBqK-vZCYcQksqhn7iI51lAtpbPMzGYQTcIBo2MA-j4wzKW3VxjCSfmELloWahZkViJjdtvYwFXb2BpHAJMCFIg5_tAjhCRQd72S_YVjK18f5PGXRtqOeIyerMHrRZ/s1600-h/bulgaria.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5187085733109653746" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI_m1Ro8eBqK-vZCYcQksqhn7iI51lAtpbPMzGYQTcIBo2MA-j4wzKW3VxjCSfmELloWahZkViJjdtvYwFXb2BpHAJMCFIg5_tAjhCRQd72S_YVjK18f5PGXRtqOeIyerMHrRZ/s200/bulgaria.jpg" border="0" /></a> For the past month or so, I’ve been telling the same story over & over again, so now I figured I’d get it all done and over with here :) On May 1, DV, Louise D. and I will be heading out to Bulgaria for two months! Bulglbu-what, you ask? Is that some sort of disease? Nope, it’s actually a country in Eastern Europe. Louise & I hope to help in schooling some of the families out there, teaching them English, etc.<br /><br />There’ll even be a little time at the end for a quick, adventure-filled scamper around Europe. Of course, teaching English to children who enjoy having "salutary conversations" will be an adventure all of itself. (Dariel is the salutary young man: at 10 years old, he’s using English words I have to look up! Now Paul, who’s 2 and knows the letter "A", he’s more at our level :) We’re definitely looking forward to it!<br />If you have any questions, I’ll answer them by message/ email :)<br /><br />A few facts about Bulgaria:<br /><ul><li>Location: South-eastern Europe, bordering the Black Sea, between Romania and Turkey</li><li>Terrain: Mostly mountains with lowlands in north and southeast</li><li>Religions: Bulgarian Orthodox 82.6%, Muslim 12.2%, other Christian 1.2%, other 4% (2001 census)</li><li>Language Groups: Bulgarian 84.5%, Turkish 9.6%, Roma 4.1%, other and unspecified 1.8% (2001 census) </li><li>Occupied by the Ottoman Empire until 1885</li><li>The town of Sapareva Banya has the hottest mineral water spring in Bulgaria.</li><li>Bulgaria has around four thousand mapped caves.</li><li>Varna, on the Black Sea, was a trading centre in ancient times. A cemetery, found in 1972, contained many gold and copper artifacts from around 4600 BC to 4200 BC.<br /></li></ul><p>Sources: <a href="http://www.propertyshowrooms.com/bulgaria/guide/bulgaria-facts.asp%20http://www.worldinfozone.com/facts.php?country=Bulgaria">http://www.propertyshowrooms.com/bulgaria/guide/bulgaria-facts.asp%20http://www.worldinfozone.com/facts.php?country=Bulgaria</a></p>Ruthhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10236253702237918037noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30075799.post-27570743082276883192008-04-03T20:31:00.005-05:002008-04-04T12:17:21.294-05:00Quote of the Day<a href="http://www.geocities.com/Heartland/Plains/6271/bashing.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 184px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 136px" height="133" alt="" src="http://www.geocities.com/Heartland/Plains/6271/bashing.jpg" border="0" /></a><em>"Never before has so little work been done in so much time."</em> --my wise Father, regarding work on computers and the devices in general. <div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>So true, in so many ways... Dad & Mom exploring the baffling intricacies of computers and email and "maximizing" and "minimizing" and "files" and "folders" and "Argh, I just lost all my work!!" and "Oh, that actually matters?" ...And also true, unfortunately, in my essaying. Which, incidentally, I hope to be finished by Saturday :)</div></div>Ruthhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10236253702237918037noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30075799.post-4691644188421782922008-02-20T22:16:00.006-06:002008-12-11T15:15:43.231-06:00Of Mackerel Tails, Banana Fries and Octopai Eyes... And a little sanity as wellWhat could that be, swimming in the cooking pot?<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizBYb9tkXunb3x7enIcDiEISprmt63wTrribVeO16Gomx8-ChyphenhyphenYqXkhWwQEgD72ySqmY56FiEU1ZyapoOYgGs2ptjOnWw2vx7dbn2wRf7bYTpyT3tqaexGeACKls1x_yMsK-RI/s1600-h/Boiling+Octupus.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5169283074282910194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizBYb9tkXunb3x7enIcDiEISprmt63wTrribVeO16Gomx8-ChyphenhyphenYqXkhWwQEgD72ySqmY56FiEU1ZyapoOYgGs2ptjOnWw2vx7dbn2wRf7bYTpyT3tqaexGeACKls1x_yMsK-RI/s400/Boiling+Octupus.jpg" border="0" /></a> Just a continuation of the cooking habits of my <a href="http://tidbitsoflifeinbug.blogspot.com/2008/01/crazy-kids.html">sister's</a> family...<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5169283379225588258" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhawBofY-vhb2bK_a6XG7OpRoOUsA6uoXGo6J-6DAkh_sPaSUlPBCbEtp8gvkNgqqasOOJ4tl_uRvx3rplt_GAicQyR1lw-_1TsFumUU7Xaw2391A8jAB5Pxh1hYxCl3q0-gZ7u/s400/Octopus+Supper.jpg" border="0" />Not to blame Laurie, of course, but that truly was the inspiration behind a tasty dish of octopai. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWHW5x9dVELxlsQWpLl2jZ6OGyDOQvlYocqsxFCA54MP8nIjTZhQwhpA4EXqkl0LDdPcK3iDAf0z_XttImSQH6xG_bftAi75HLH11HU7MX4qaf-_Pm1CTggfDQT7IYhE8Ln3Tr/s1600-h/Swimming+Octopus.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5169283078577877506" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWHW5x9dVELxlsQWpLl2jZ6OGyDOQvlYocqsxFCA54MP8nIjTZhQwhpA4EXqkl0LDdPcK3iDAf0z_XttImSQH6xG_bftAi75HLH11HU7MX4qaf-_Pm1CTggfDQT7IYhE8Ln3Tr/s400/Swimming+Octopus.jpg" border="0" /></a> The menu for the evening (with renowned chefs, Boyar-Curt and Ruthie Crocker):<br /><ul><li>Fried mackerel --the "only redeeming feature of the meal" --Mom</li><li>Melon/Papaya smoothie (spiked with plenty of vodka to drown out the papaya taste)</li><li>Rice with fresh melon salsa</li><li>Boiled octopai avec les onions et les tomates</li><li>Fried plantain banana with coconut milk (optional)</li></ul><p><br /></p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5169283087167812114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgehNYkd9kqRjZXeDMOk1J7oskmlUxrm0QrICTG5NaLKwDzD9CDAPh5VDKk9uw0iYo_c8EBxwqk6nBYyH2MB0_2PUhFgzJ2YZtkhiMyCfCne7Y-vMOQM2DBzWk_Ci7bYQ3D367P/s400/Octopai.jpg" border="0" />Just thought I'd warn you to look closely at your next plate of salad served up at the VD household --we've found a nice recipe for <a href="http://bertc.com/spidersalad.htm">tarantula</a>.</p><p>And speaking of tarantula, I've got some more relevant news. Matt is back on the blogging world, reporting from Honduras. Be sure to check up his <a href="http://ablogofsomeonewhoneverwantedablog.blogspot.com/">update</a>.<br /><br />Also, my bestest friend <a href="http://acitizenofheaven.blogspot.com/">Louise </a>has a blog as well :)</p>Ruthhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10236253702237918037noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30075799.post-29522418969397901852008-02-18T22:10:00.003-06:002008-12-11T15:15:44.145-06:00Like all good adventures begin, this was indeed a dark and stormy night. The wind was howling, the trees swayed to a ghostly rhythm, the stars had long since disappeared into swirling mists, and the rain filtered through the trees... spssshing, freezing, creating a treacherous transparency across all. Two cars set out from the warm house of their hosts to make the trek to Orangeville (cue scary music :)<br /><br />A ditched car marked the beginning of the dangerous leg of the journey. They progressed with care, but despite all, each hill proved to be worse and worse. <br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168539087162995170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUT2bjrQ1MSfEL_g_yrbAh-3FeJNnKJpfRct9ZIO1yDgPBSdLlkKd5rgVuvBw7l6iNCdWvaHatSD4PgDtcBvYjHX2JxYfnCcL9YOl50-aD7HSKV1m3K1BxkdEtH0o-braKwn8_/s400/Slippy+Hill.jpg" border="0" /><span style="font-size:85%;">Pushing the cars up the hill –note Tim on the front of the car and everyone's Sunday clothes :)</span><br /><p>With no way to go but down, there was little choice but to knock on the door of Tim’s neighbor. It was dark without lights, and the place looked sinister indeed.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRWK5hrzlFc2TQ0xxU7r2X_fME8U1XqWzSIGo9X6JTD7i5u7mrXkdKfKZEvYgUJN-PsKHCh-t2ZeoT1VPTaBnXMt2dPeGPTWzznM9qzthaFa8Zp2srZq6RgggQU-hf0fvkBoQx/s1600-h/Dark+house.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168539082868027858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRWK5hrzlFc2TQ0xxU7r2X_fME8U1XqWzSIGo9X6JTD7i5u7mrXkdKfKZEvYgUJN-PsKHCh-t2ZeoT1VPTaBnXMt2dPeGPTWzznM9qzthaFa8Zp2srZq6RgggQU-hf0fvkBoQx/s400/Dark+house.jpg" border="0" /></a>But after a long wait, the door soon opened to reveal the warmest grandparentish people one could desire. They outfitted the distressed children with ashes and plenty of advice, and soon they were ready to go –in one car this time. ‘Twas a little squishy at times...</p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168539078573060546" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiteoeD8hdVkgLkLkBEUcHmU787pq-m6-o8y6AChRVzMu43zehmRbcB_AbloTRuOMfbiK2Yl-cmAcHK7qQJwuLi1MwrO43yIj7Duo1i_uep9jPeXC6Ug0qI6-Xpv-K-33upltk1/s400/Back+Seat.jpg" border="0" />Much running alongside the car, scooping/ swallowing ash, pushing, and praying, and they were back on the main stretch, headed homeward.<br /></p><p>‘Twas an adventure from start to finish: howling coyotes, sinister hermits turned friendly folks, doughty companions, some heart-stopping moments of fear and a warm and welcoming home at the end of it all. Thanks to God for keeping us safe through it all!<br /></p>Ruthhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10236253702237918037noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30075799.post-307617250483266992008-02-15T20:31:00.007-06:002008-12-11T15:15:44.697-06:002 Easy Steps To Contentment<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmF0RhzXMWkp7-1kcEU9JlFfwmAdPbJIiIlPFoOvMOz4ddpxuGG-c1kW-r-2mxOS1MpTyAA4ukSLUarOWJR2t2rB2s_IG3AED99U5vyRhKEnYAA60MMM39NLcUoNxoVNCBn9dY/s1600-h/lady+bug.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5167402243679482290" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 165px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 245px" height="269" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmF0RhzXMWkp7-1kcEU9JlFfwmAdPbJIiIlPFoOvMOz4ddpxuGG-c1kW-r-2mxOS1MpTyAA4ukSLUarOWJR2t2rB2s_IG3AED99U5vyRhKEnYAA60MMM39NLcUoNxoVNCBn9dY/s320/lady+bug.jpg" width="180" border="0" /></a> <div>"One goes into the forest to pick food and already the thought of one fruit rather than another has grown up in one’s mind. Then, it may be, one finds a different fruit and not the fruit one thought of. One joy was expected and another is given... [At] the very moment of the finding there is in the mind a kind of thrusting back, or setting aside. The picture of the fruit you have not found is still, for a moment, before you. And if you wished... you could keep it there. You could send your soul after the good you had expected, instead of turning it to the good you had got. You could refuse the real good; you could make the real fruit taste insipid by thinking of the other." –C.S. Lewis –Perelandra<br /><div><br />Hmm, so the title is a bit of a misnomer –there is no "easy" path to contentment. But Lewis puts the whole thing into such simple terms: God sends us gifts, and we face the option of happy acceptance or sour (and futile) rejection. Life is a gift, then; an endless series of "goods". Awesome... Simple, and yet I make it so difficult to translate into real life. LOL, I guess even this late-night essay that stares me in the face is a gift from God. Time to seize it with two hands :)</div><div><br />"Every good thing given and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shifting shadow." James 1:17<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0QF7PvvHkWZoFI1ND6wqR-g_wXY6DR3zAqtDE7WzdxuwCbbPProZT9-HSnHlRTenc2at_J5V-AH7ZkYDbh8-6cblZEh_xaU_BO1QGxTfD0lOTg_GU6yJnmFYp1v6ht3Tvr9Yd/s1600-h/Matt's+pic.jpg"></a></div></div>Ruthhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10236253702237918037noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30075799.post-71058248956382436312008-02-13T22:13:00.004-06:002008-12-11T15:15:45.069-06:00History Bloopers<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTbMCJRHZ4RSqv5cOU-7wm6BIdkGe3HyqUWVLVQ3WmbtdT3_pvYCTv74fmqamx1hiTRwcby0X0bg8jCZ1FGfosf_aW5fXnKBPQ_G7u2SMl4Nwl-bCX9xwQKUL-TDpPnMDwI5C7/s1600-h/see%2520no%2520evil.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5166694445954003346" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTbMCJRHZ4RSqv5cOU-7wm6BIdkGe3HyqUWVLVQ3WmbtdT3_pvYCTv74fmqamx1hiTRwcby0X0bg8jCZ1FGfosf_aW5fXnKBPQ_G7u2SMl4Nwl-bCX9xwQKUL-TDpPnMDwI5C7/s320/see%2520no%2520evil.jpg" border="0" /></a> "I believe it is peace for our time." Neville Chamberlain, September 30, 1938, describing the Munich Agreement.<br /><p>"...His eyes impressed me most of all. There was a liquid quality about them, which indicated keen perception and profound sympathy."... "I wished him well in his efforts to help mankind." MacKenzie King, June 29, 1937, describing Herr Hitler.</p><br /><p>Hmmm, the irony. Couldn't help but laugh out loud at that one! And can't help but wonder if we're following a blind sort of appeasement in the area of Islamic terrorism... Nobody sees, nobody knows.</p>Ruthhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10236253702237918037noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30075799.post-14688570818830920282008-01-11T09:00:00.000-06:002008-12-11T15:15:46.225-06:00If Life Were a Drama<div align="left"><em><strong>Dramatis Personae</strong></em> </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><strong><strong><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhzVnKjhaeBF6ox9yOf9OcjJNkEqNt_Sry_NPxbRvqyanDROmC11n6fwCUDsRoTYc3jwP2n31kdLZi7VJ-Q4lr8ABwgCgnUBwnZr2Ocd4yN6tUprsrTM2A-BkooO35wxdtg0QS/s1600-h/Matt.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5155923938718188354" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="143" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhzVnKjhaeBF6ox9yOf9OcjJNkEqNt_Sry_NPxbRvqyanDROmC11n6fwCUDsRoTYc3jwP2n31kdLZi7VJ-Q4lr8ABwgCgnUBwnZr2Ocd4yN6tUprsrTM2A-BkooO35wxdtg0QS/s200/Matt.jpg" width="155" border="0" /></a>Matt:</strong> First appears on-stage as the grudging IT of anyone who can claim relation or acquaintance of any sort. He's got a ready, slightly crooked smile, older-brotherly advice, and offers companionship when it is most needed. He's also just a little too smart for his own good --"Does anyone want to play chess with me?" </strong></div><div align="left"><strong></strong> </div><div align="left"><strong> </div><p align="left"></p><p align="left"></p><p align="left"></strong><strong></p><blockquote><p align="left"><strong><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7dlDMsNjbqf46EAARH6wwvEU2El0wM_tveT-JpIxzfdHHCJ8l4Lm9E80UMxti9pI7qJqrbQAKyABQXUKaTRxMrx2XhfsOnfU54H8rF6qSX1EW-ptbMWh06QDiS1sRqR9pm4e8/s1600-h/Jer.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5155923642365444866" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="149" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7dlDMsNjbqf46EAARH6wwvEU2El0wM_tveT-JpIxzfdHHCJ8l4Lm9E80UMxti9pI7qJqrbQAKyABQXUKaTRxMrx2XhfsOnfU54H8rF6qSX1EW-ptbMWh06QDiS1sRqR9pm4e8/s200/Jer.jpg" width="159" border="0" /></a>Jeremy:</strong> Once the child who "only like[d] cheese on Mondays," not much has been lost with ascent to adulthood. His latest harebrained schemes include evading campsite fees by pitching a tent on an 11-foot inflatable raft (how about that sleepwalking?), and planned decimation of the nearby carp population, thereby reaping a triple profit (financially, environmentally and angling-ally.) </p></blockquote></strong><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><strong><blockquote><p align="left"><br /> </p><p align="left"><strong><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoCIJRjAN84r5xcSbUrJUWHP6Oa6uZBkCu2heRDxPkAYZlNq8fFyCA-A7V9p9i8eQl9Satt7jAzAp3Hc9p-IMOF8KuVjBq_MI_H8g78oUhQrJZQUWBWme2yON5lKdoMV2vNXJn/s1600-h/Curt+Jen+and+Flip.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5155923638070477554" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="181" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoCIJRjAN84r5xcSbUrJUWHP6Oa6uZBkCu2heRDxPkAYZlNq8fFyCA-A7V9p9i8eQl9Satt7jAzAp3Hc9p-IMOF8KuVjBq_MI_H8g78oUhQrJZQUWBWme2yON5lKdoMV2vNXJn/s200/Curt+Jen+and+Flip.jpg" width="140" border="0" /></a>Curt, Jen & Phillip:</strong> The "tenants" of the house who are soon revealed to be much more. They're a ready support group for distressed students, advisors in all areas of life (the essentials, the practicals, and the frivolous), and always ready for a culinary adventure or late-night talk. Phillip is quite obviously the live-in comedian: his impersonations & suggestions ("can we put socks on the fishy?") and even his speech (how does a seminarian's son say "truck"?) will bring laughter no matter how down you can be.<br /></strong><strong><br /><strong><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEUVeDok_WyF4s_bDVcBUSTkMoZlhRX7DqA37gF64YaWFQPv5RmA005EWIMli-KDIlNSvCPe74cQtOz3v4kpkPp5UIz76aZeBJpkVyoCsxmplmsM_7yqALxIbUZojaVC701fia/s1600-h/Laurie.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5155923646660412194" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="172" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEUVeDok_WyF4s_bDVcBUSTkMoZlhRX7DqA37gF64YaWFQPv5RmA005EWIMli-KDIlNSvCPe74cQtOz3v4kpkPp5UIz76aZeBJpkVyoCsxmplmsM_7yqALxIbUZojaVC701fia/s200/Laurie.jpg" width="151" border="0" /></a>Steve, Laurie & Co.:</strong> the family who's distant geographically, but close in every other way. Laurie's quick wit, rapid thinking and unending activity leaves the watcher with the urge to rewind and replay her in slow-motion. Steve and she possess a whole family of little gremlins/comedians (the pictures I could post! :) </p></blockquote></strong><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dj7uSdEWdkE/R4eFKkg7ApI/AAAAAAAAALQ/zPWjtOY4NHM/s1600-h/Jonathan.jpg"></a> </div><strong><div align="left"> </div><blockquote><p align="left"><strong><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7TpGK1WwfAlUUMYPM8LTq8nA5DSi1sEpqY6MW03_bya_wihEWBBV2pis22rqUtK3MwmXhDLGuUMp8ANITiAnsAv0KrX1DB_KuufCwWgwa5UEPInZFeOOvD0FJpTiqFXni4OyW/s1600-h/Jonathan.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5155923642365444882" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="181" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7TpGK1WwfAlUUMYPM8LTq8nA5DSi1sEpqY6MW03_bya_wihEWBBV2pis22rqUtK3MwmXhDLGuUMp8ANITiAnsAv0KrX1DB_KuufCwWgwa5UEPInZFeOOvD0FJpTiqFXni4OyW/s200/Jonathan.jpg" width="135" border="0" /></a>Jonathan:</strong> Of course you've heard of the superhero "Margarine Man"? That's him. He's also Jalopy Jon, the Jungle Jop who devours live and flipping fish. He's the energizer bunny who zigzags the road others struggle to finish, and the foreign correspondent who's epistles are much appreciated (hint hint!) </p><p align="left"><br /></p><p align="left"></p></strong><strong><p align="left"><br /></p></blockquote><blockquote><p align="left"><strong><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsnMKsGN-xWb_O-oBt66QOXVVuB4NvPbM-vUB8aVqrXvqgxlrG7bGtael6L8x-mQwYyCWG-80CVDu2kTAuOvw1XOhEQUFDlc-_-5CJIVqt_L9hsdndr4C2NOIKVWwB_LqW3QX6/s1600-h/Mom.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5155923934423221042" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="170" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsnMKsGN-xWb_O-oBt66QOXVVuB4NvPbM-vUB8aVqrXvqgxlrG7bGtael6L8x-mQwYyCWG-80CVDu2kTAuOvw1XOhEQUFDlc-_-5CJIVqt_L9hsdndr4C2NOIKVWwB_LqW3QX6/s200/Mom.jpg" width="164" border="0" /></a>Mother:</strong> Well, she's just that: motherly. Still preparing tea for breakfast, brown-bag" lunches and made-from-scratch suppers, still scolding about messy rooms and socks left inside-out, the way she pampers these kids one wonders if her children ever really grew up?</p><p align="left"></p><p align="left"></p><p align="left"></p><p align="left"></p><p align="left"></p><p align="left"></p><p align="left"></p></strong><strong><strong><strong></strong></strong></strong></blockquote><blockquote><strong><strong><strong><p align="left"><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiyPuAJ4FY69839CaBNS6XMFsNunBZFtrMsnEwp4NqL-7j4bwbb_CawaitaCDIPUSv8AUDylScOCRke6kAZjl-D5143-R1PMjik34l18XBvBTPr7oWG9hKtcRMY6F3mL3t7OE_/s1600-h/Dad.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5155923638070477538" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiyPuAJ4FY69839CaBNS6XMFsNunBZFtrMsnEwp4NqL-7j4bwbb_CawaitaCDIPUSv8AUDylScOCRke6kAZjl-D5143-R1PMjik34l18XBvBTPr7oWG9hKtcRMY6F3mL3t7OE_/s200/Dad.jpg" border="0" /></a></p></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><p align="left"><strong>Dad:</strong> A former third-grade teacher with an affinity for third-grade humour and hinkpinks". Also an avid naturalist with an encyclopedic knowledge of birds, trees, and the "smaller" wonders of the universe. He's got an open ear, a wonderfully absorbant shoulder, and an overflowing fountain of wisdom.</strong></strong></strong><br /></p><p align="left">So there you have it: the people God's put in my life. The more I get to know them, the stranger they get... and the stranger they get, the more I want to know them :)<br />Love you lots!<br /></p></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote>Ruthhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10236253702237918037noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30075799.post-86425484298742895022008-01-08T17:11:00.001-06:002008-12-11T15:15:47.626-06:00Public Safety Announcement: Mango Poisoning<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl_xZlxs1SS7iJRqB5Gs7EqkUo2VqhLoo_6cMYkZ1iUNaNrycTFWFiu3CcJoFqQThvgj7FTVk2KncJThiLDIVzj97Gd2qisHv6mHh_iugVIlr6MVvJ_0av3OvqWob5RJbGWnQp/s1600-h/mango.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5153259061834875314" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl_xZlxs1SS7iJRqB5Gs7EqkUo2VqhLoo_6cMYkZ1iUNaNrycTFWFiu3CcJoFqQThvgj7FTVk2KncJThiLDIVzj97Gd2qisHv6mHh_iugVIlr6MVvJ_0av3OvqWob5RJbGWnQp/s200/mango.jpg" border="0" /></a> Well who could have guessed that something so lush and sweet, the very essence of "tropical beauty" itself could leave in its wake an dermatological disaster? Chrissy, Abby and I certainly didn't as we slurped it in our delicious smoothies... nor did I the next few days as I had a daily mango, even though small and menacing bumps began to appear around my lips. However, when Sunday brought hampered speech and the complete inability to smile, it was apparent that <strong>something </strong>was up. I did a little research, the findings weren't terribly encouraging...<br /><br /><ul><li>"<a href="http://www.allergycapital.com.au/Pages/contactderm.html">A red, itchy and often blistering weeping rash develops</a>."</li><br /><li>"<a href="http://www.peoplespharmacy.com/archives/herb_home_remedy_qa/mango_reaction_mimics_poison_ivy_rash.asp">The resulting horrible rash kept me in my apartment for a week</a>" </li><br /><li><a href="http://gliving.tv/community/comments.php?DiscussionID=724">"Without giving you too much info, I have nasty puss dripping blisters on my face (okay, maybe a little too much info)"</a><br /></li></ul><p>So here are the facts for you. Mangos are in the same family as poison sumacs, poison oak and poison ivy. Apparently it's the mango skin that causes reaction, so wash your hands after preparing it, and don't eat it!</p>Still, I'm thankful for frank friends and relatives who don't bother to soften the truth with tact "Have you gotten a lip job? Botox or collagen?" but cast it all in a humorous light "Circus makeup? You missed the upper half of your face!"Ruthhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10236253702237918037noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30075799.post-9232557088065704042007-11-28T23:37:00.000-06:002008-12-11T15:15:47.790-06:00Life in the Zoo<div>Wild things are happening at the VD house. You think I'm kidding? Well here's a shot of the primates cage...</div><div> </div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyk5Huivpo1MqTad4S8gM3TYB9SN2iz4GGUt95SW5F3kfQjD8gEBcGUGLmzjsn93txd1GGfCKbxo2ihlREM7NpVbB2rCHHdaSwITlud1LE4Es5ndkaEzyEayZDpXmBNAs7m2PA/s1600-h/Phap.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5138133438156250978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyk5Huivpo1MqTad4S8gM3TYB9SN2iz4GGUt95SW5F3kfQjD8gEBcGUGLmzjsn93txd1GGfCKbxo2ihlREM7NpVbB2rCHHdaSwITlud1LE4Es5ndkaEzyEayZDpXmBNAs7m2PA/s400/Phap.jpg" border="0" /></a> With the biggest monkey ever right in the middle :)<br /><div> </div>Ruthhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10236253702237918037noreply@blogger.com3