Growing up, I was lucky enough to have three grandmothers. Baba was my mom's mom and lived just a mile from us. Grandma was my dad's step-mom. For the first few years of my life, she lived a few miles away then they moved to Washington. Grandma Charlotte was my dad's birth-mom who I didn't meet until I was nine or ten. She lived in Washington too.
Shortly after my 11th birthday, Grandma Charlotte died. I remember being sad because I barely knew her but my dad always said that I had her eyes.
A few months later, Grandma died. She was scared and depressed and took her own life. I was stunned. So stunned that I couldn't even cry. It just didn't make sense to me that my sweet, loving Grandma would do that to herself.
When I was 19, Baba died. I was with her when she lost consciousness though she officially died a few hours later at the hospital. When the nurses took us to her, I threw myself across her stomach and sobbed. I'm crying now just thinking about it.
I've often begrudged friends who are lucky enough to still have their grandmothers. How lucky they are to be in their adult years and still have a grandma! I've also often wondered why God transplanted my grandmothers out of my life. And more often than not felt sorry for myself.
But today, I realized how richly blessed I am. Yes, I have three grandmothers who have left this world. However, I have eight "new" grandmothers.
It took selling Avon for me to acquire these new grandmothers. I see them every other week. I sit at their kitchen tables and listen to their stories. They give me recipes and share advice. I ask for cooking tips and sewing pointers. They know my children and husband by name, though few of them have actually met Scott, Adam or Gracey. Often enough they send me on my way with homemade goodies, flowers from their garden or some other little treasure. Some call me honey, others call me Kris, one doesn't always remember my name at all. I've laughed with all of them and cried with some of them. We solve the world's problems and we giggle at our mistakes. A few tell me they love me, but they all make me feel loved.
So though these "Avon Grandmas" will never replace my real grandmothers, they are terrific surrogates and I am forever grateful to have them.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Saturday, June 11, 2011
bad news and The Good News
The river is up a few inches to 17.51 feet. And this was in the paper this morning:
It's a good thing that before reading that, I read Psalm 29-33.
The verses that stuck out:
Psalm 29:3 The voice of the Lord is over the waters; the God of glory thunders, the Lord thunders over the mighty waters
Psalm 29:10 The Lord sites enthroned over the flood; the Lord is entrhoned as King forever.
Psalm 29:11 The Lord gives strength to his people; the Lord blesses his people with peace.
Psalm 31:9 Be merciful to me, O Lord, for I am in distress; my eyes grow weak with sorrow, my soul and my body with grief.
Psalm 31:24 Be strong and take heart, all you who hope in the Lord.
Psalm 33:20 We wait in hope for the Lord; he is our help and our shield.
Road in Bismarck possibly washed out by floodwaterThis stretch of Sibley Drive is the stretch we drove through last Saturday as we evacuated. We drove through it again the other night and it was already much worse. And now, it is impassable.
By The Associated Press | Posted: Saturday, June 11, 2011 1:15 am |
The chairman of the Burleigh County Commission is warning Bismarck residents not to travel over a road he says has been potentially washed out by flooding.
Brian Bitner says Sibley Drive south of Sherman is impassable because of emergency flows from Garrison Dam. He says some residents had still been driving over the road to get to their homes but that doing so now would be more treacherous.
It's a good thing that before reading that, I read Psalm 29-33.
The verses that stuck out:
Psalm 29:3 The voice of the Lord is over the waters; the God of glory thunders, the Lord thunders over the mighty waters
Psalm 29:10 The Lord sites enthroned over the flood; the Lord is entrhoned as King forever.
Psalm 29:11 The Lord gives strength to his people; the Lord blesses his people with peace.
Psalm 31:9 Be merciful to me, O Lord, for I am in distress; my eyes grow weak with sorrow, my soul and my body with grief.
Psalm 31:24 Be strong and take heart, all you who hope in the Lord.
Psalm 33:20 We wait in hope for the Lord; he is our help and our shield.
Monday, June 6, 2011
Transparent
One of the many things I'm learning during this flood crisis is that people have a want and a need to help other people. Depriving them by refusing to accept help hurts us as much as it hurts them. Of course, in order to accept the help you need to be transparent and vulnerable.
Witnessing the kindness and generosity of friends, family and strangers during these last two weeks has truly humbled me. And it's taught me that it's okay to be vulnerable. It's okay to be transparent.
These days it doesn't take much for me to wear my heart on my sleeve. Every failure is met with tears but so is every victory. Each glimmer of hope is written on my face as is every doubt.
Maybe it's just because I don't have the energy to conceal my emotions right now. But I don't think that's it at all. I think it's because I'm learning that people need to see others at their worst so they realize that it's okay to be broken, hurting, mad, sad, and scared. And it also helps keep our own problems in perspective.
During a particularly rough patch, someone gave me advice that I have kept in mind recently:
Witnessing the kindness and generosity of friends, family and strangers during these last two weeks has truly humbled me. And it's taught me that it's okay to be vulnerable. It's okay to be transparent.
These days it doesn't take much for me to wear my heart on my sleeve. Every failure is met with tears but so is every victory. Each glimmer of hope is written on my face as is every doubt.
Maybe it's just because I don't have the energy to conceal my emotions right now. But I don't think that's it at all. I think it's because I'm learning that people need to see others at their worst so they realize that it's okay to be broken, hurting, mad, sad, and scared. And it also helps keep our own problems in perspective.
During a particularly rough patch, someone gave me advice that I have kept in mind recently:
You go through what you go through so you can help others go through what you went through.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Evacuation Day
Yesterday was evacuation day.
It started off as a fairly normal Saturday morning for us. We actually slept in till 8-ish. The kids were in a good mood and it was pretty quiet outside except for the quiet grumble of our neighbor's Bobcat tractor. That should have been our first clue.
Grammy called at about 9 and suggested we move the rest of our stuff to She-She's and get the kids settled. They were going to go to Lowe's to buy some stuff for the chickens and pigeons and would catch up with us later. About 9:15, she came over to give us something when Jessie (the neighbor with the Bobcat) called to her from his yard.
"Did you know the water's come up? It's almost over the road." He said. "We probably only have a few hours."
Quickly we cleaned up the kitchen, got dress and began the final packing and chores.
Some time around 11:30, as we were loading the cars, we noticed that the water had filled in the yard across the street and had covered that neighbor's driveway. About forty minutes later, the Sherrif showed up and told us we had to leave.
"There isn't a road down here that doesn't have water on it," he told us.
We told him we were just about done and would be leaving soon. A few more tears and then we got back to work. After loading the last of our belongings, we sealed and sandbagged the one remaining door into our homes then joined hands and prayed. It's a good thing God understands all languages because the tears made us sound pretty funny.
We drove out our driveway in a caravan not too unlike the one we formed five years ago when we moved to Bismarck. Pops and Adam in the lead, pulling the trailer with the chickens, pigeons and plants inside. Grammy follwed behind him in the Navigator. Sleeping Gracey and I followed in our Trailblazer and Scott brought up the rear in his work van.
As we passed other evacuees, we cried. Some stopped Scott to ask about the best route out. He told them he didn't know, he just didn't know. But nothing prepared us for what was ahead, just about a mile from our driveway: two feet of rushing water pouring over the road.
Pops zoomed through fine with Grammy right on his tail. But when I got to the water, I froze. We are taught to never, ever drive on a flooded road yet having watched my parents do it with success, she didn't know what to do. The water was deep, fast and strong. And all I could think was "My car is smaller than theirs." But Scott, forever my Prince Charming, pulled up alongside me and gave me isntructions.
"You can do this, babe. Put it in 4-wheel drive, and just go. Whatever you do, don't slow down and don't stop, just go. I'll be right her next to you." I nodded, barely able to breathe much less speak, rolled up my window and did as he told me.
As we emerged from the water, I pulled out ahead of him and rolled down my window again. It was so stifling hot in my car and I needed fresh air just to breathe. By this time, I was wailing like mourners at a funeral. I will tell you right now: that was the hardest thing I've ever done. It went against every instinct. I was so scared. So angry. So sad. So devastated.
We drove in our slow-moving caravan all the way to She-She's house, each of us crying and somehow not believing what was happening.
We spent the rest of the day unpacking and moving into She-She's house. Coincidentally, She-She is in California right now for a friend's bachelorette week-end.
Some time around 9pm, we decided to go down to our neighborhood and see how high the water had risen. Imagine our horror when we looked past the road closed sign and saw hoards of people on ATVs driving through the floodwaters, people sight-seeing and walking on our neighbor's flooded properties and even a young boy and his dad bow-fishing in the flooded backyard of a neighbor. We called the Sherrif but his response was insulting. He said he saw nothing wrong with what the people were doing (including the trespassing bow-fisherman) and that he thought we were bitter about being evacuated. Needless to say, we have filed a complaint.
Two of our neighbors did make it down to their homes last night despite the high waters on the road. They both told us that the water was contained to our culvert and had not yet gone up our driveway or into our yards yet. Praise God! We realize the waters will likely rise, but every day is one more day.
Currently the dam release is running at 115,000 cubic feet per second. Tomorrow they will increase to 120,000 cfs. Tuesday it goes to 130,000. Friday it will be 135,000 cfs and some time next week it goes to 150,000 cfs. The release will remain at 150,000 cfs into July. No one knows how long it will take the floodwaters to recede. We've heard it could be 7 weeks or it could be 12 weeks.
The good news is that the high-velocity water continues to deepen the river channel which means the water levels are not as high as the experts expected them to be. Of course, the flipside of that is that the Corps could decide to increase the flows faster since the river can contain more water. Let's hope that doesn't happen.
As for now, we are safe and dry at She-She's. The kids are sharing a hide-a-bed in their basement bedroom. Scott and I are in the guestroom. Grammy and Pops are in their motorhome in the driveway. It's cozy but it works.
Please keep praying. We're not out of the woods yet.
It started off as a fairly normal Saturday morning for us. We actually slept in till 8-ish. The kids were in a good mood and it was pretty quiet outside except for the quiet grumble of our neighbor's Bobcat tractor. That should have been our first clue.
Grammy called at about 9 and suggested we move the rest of our stuff to She-She's and get the kids settled. They were going to go to Lowe's to buy some stuff for the chickens and pigeons and would catch up with us later. About 9:15, she came over to give us something when Jessie (the neighbor with the Bobcat) called to her from his yard.
"Did you know the water's come up? It's almost over the road." He said. "We probably only have a few hours."
Quickly we cleaned up the kitchen, got dress and began the final packing and chores.
Some time around 11:30, as we were loading the cars, we noticed that the water had filled in the yard across the street and had covered that neighbor's driveway. About forty minutes later, the Sherrif showed up and told us we had to leave.
"There isn't a road down here that doesn't have water on it," he told us.
We told him we were just about done and would be leaving soon. A few more tears and then we got back to work. After loading the last of our belongings, we sealed and sandbagged the one remaining door into our homes then joined hands and prayed. It's a good thing God understands all languages because the tears made us sound pretty funny.
We drove out our driveway in a caravan not too unlike the one we formed five years ago when we moved to Bismarck. Pops and Adam in the lead, pulling the trailer with the chickens, pigeons and plants inside. Grammy follwed behind him in the Navigator. Sleeping Gracey and I followed in our Trailblazer and Scott brought up the rear in his work van.
As we passed other evacuees, we cried. Some stopped Scott to ask about the best route out. He told them he didn't know, he just didn't know. But nothing prepared us for what was ahead, just about a mile from our driveway: two feet of rushing water pouring over the road.
Pops zoomed through fine with Grammy right on his tail. But when I got to the water, I froze. We are taught to never, ever drive on a flooded road yet having watched my parents do it with success, she didn't know what to do. The water was deep, fast and strong. And all I could think was "My car is smaller than theirs." But Scott, forever my Prince Charming, pulled up alongside me and gave me isntructions.
"You can do this, babe. Put it in 4-wheel drive, and just go. Whatever you do, don't slow down and don't stop, just go. I'll be right her next to you." I nodded, barely able to breathe much less speak, rolled up my window and did as he told me.
As we emerged from the water, I pulled out ahead of him and rolled down my window again. It was so stifling hot in my car and I needed fresh air just to breathe. By this time, I was wailing like mourners at a funeral. I will tell you right now: that was the hardest thing I've ever done. It went against every instinct. I was so scared. So angry. So sad. So devastated.
We drove in our slow-moving caravan all the way to She-She's house, each of us crying and somehow not believing what was happening.
We spent the rest of the day unpacking and moving into She-She's house. Coincidentally, She-She is in California right now for a friend's bachelorette week-end.
Some time around 9pm, we decided to go down to our neighborhood and see how high the water had risen. Imagine our horror when we looked past the road closed sign and saw hoards of people on ATVs driving through the floodwaters, people sight-seeing and walking on our neighbor's flooded properties and even a young boy and his dad bow-fishing in the flooded backyard of a neighbor. We called the Sherrif but his response was insulting. He said he saw nothing wrong with what the people were doing (including the trespassing bow-fisherman) and that he thought we were bitter about being evacuated. Needless to say, we have filed a complaint.
Two of our neighbors did make it down to their homes last night despite the high waters on the road. They both told us that the water was contained to our culvert and had not yet gone up our driveway or into our yards yet. Praise God! We realize the waters will likely rise, but every day is one more day.
Currently the dam release is running at 115,000 cubic feet per second. Tomorrow they will increase to 120,000 cfs. Tuesday it goes to 130,000. Friday it will be 135,000 cfs and some time next week it goes to 150,000 cfs. The release will remain at 150,000 cfs into July. No one knows how long it will take the floodwaters to recede. We've heard it could be 7 weeks or it could be 12 weeks.
The good news is that the high-velocity water continues to deepen the river channel which means the water levels are not as high as the experts expected them to be. Of course, the flipside of that is that the Corps could decide to increase the flows faster since the river can contain more water. Let's hope that doesn't happen.
As for now, we are safe and dry at She-She's. The kids are sharing a hide-a-bed in their basement bedroom. Scott and I are in the guestroom. Grammy and Pops are in their motorhome in the driveway. It's cozy but it works.
Please keep praying. We're not out of the woods yet.
Friday, June 3, 2011
Utter Exhaustion
I've worked hard before. I've been exhausted before. But I can tell you I have never felt as bone-tired, as dried up as I do today. Every muscle hurts. Every thought and action requires absolute concentration. I'm just toast.
I'm trying to keep a good sense of humor about this whole thing. It's waning. But, after reading a friend's facebook post yesterday, I was inspired to re-write the lyrics to two popular songs:
Some civil engineers were out at our property yesterday. They are serving the community by visiting affected homes and giving advice on the sandbag dikes, etc. The good news is that both our home and my parents' home have a ground floor above the highest predicted floodwaters. The bad news was they thought our sandbag dikes needed strengthening. So we collected four loads of sandbags yesterday. A formerly unknown neighbor saw us unloading sandbags and stopped to help. We've never before met this man but now we count him as another one of our "Sand Angels." My next post will be all about Sand Angels.
Today, we finally completed our interior preparations. Though we've been told our homes should stay dry, it's not a risk we are willing to take. So we took down our bed and put the upright piano up on blocks and plastic. All the other furniture is upstairs or moved out. Scott just finished removing the toilets and capping the drains. This will prevent any sewage from coming into the house if it is pushed up the pipes by the rising ground water.
Our old cul-de-sac was evacuated this afternoon. They have closed our old street and the street connecting our old street and our new street. This is because the river is at the top of its banks and threatening to come over the road at that intersection.
However, we still remain dry. And in many ways we still remain hopeful that we will emerge from this unscathed. As I look out my kitchen windows while writing this to you, I am again baffled by the amount of water that could be covering my yard. It has so far to travel yet at the speeds it is moving, it will likely close in on us.
Speaking of water, I have a few visuals to give you about the water releases.
-Today they have increased the water flow out of the dam to 115,000 cubic feet per second. That is roughly a World Trade Center Tower worth of water moving out of the dam every second.
-On or around June 15, they will increase the flow to 150,000 cubic feet per second. At that speed, the New Orleans Superdome would be full floor-to-ceiling in 14 minutes.
-One acre of land is 43,560 square feet. At 115,000 cubic feet per second, our 5 acre parcel could fill in under four seconds.
The truly sad things is I can now give these examples without blinking, without crying. This has become my life. I'm tired. I'm sad. I'm angry. But mostly I just miss the life I was living 10 days ago. And I know that that life is forever changed.
Keep praying.
I'm trying to keep a good sense of humor about this whole thing. It's waning. But, after reading a friend's facebook post yesterday, I was inspired to re-write the lyrics to two popular songs:
Mr. Sandman, build me a dike
bung, bung, bung, bung
Make it the biggest that I've ever seen
bung, bung, bung, bung
Wrap it in plastic. Tape it all over.
bung, bung, bung, bung
Tell me this flood's almost over.
Killing me softly with this flood, killing me softly.
Tearing my whole world apart, killing me softly. With this flood.
Some civil engineers were out at our property yesterday. They are serving the community by visiting affected homes and giving advice on the sandbag dikes, etc. The good news is that both our home and my parents' home have a ground floor above the highest predicted floodwaters. The bad news was they thought our sandbag dikes needed strengthening. So we collected four loads of sandbags yesterday. A formerly unknown neighbor saw us unloading sandbags and stopped to help. We've never before met this man but now we count him as another one of our "Sand Angels." My next post will be all about Sand Angels.
Today, we finally completed our interior preparations. Though we've been told our homes should stay dry, it's not a risk we are willing to take. So we took down our bed and put the upright piano up on blocks and plastic. All the other furniture is upstairs or moved out. Scott just finished removing the toilets and capping the drains. This will prevent any sewage from coming into the house if it is pushed up the pipes by the rising ground water.
Our old cul-de-sac was evacuated this afternoon. They have closed our old street and the street connecting our old street and our new street. This is because the river is at the top of its banks and threatening to come over the road at that intersection.
However, we still remain dry. And in many ways we still remain hopeful that we will emerge from this unscathed. As I look out my kitchen windows while writing this to you, I am again baffled by the amount of water that could be covering my yard. It has so far to travel yet at the speeds it is moving, it will likely close in on us.
Speaking of water, I have a few visuals to give you about the water releases.
-Today they have increased the water flow out of the dam to 115,000 cubic feet per second. That is roughly a World Trade Center Tower worth of water moving out of the dam every second.
-On or around June 15, they will increase the flow to 150,000 cubic feet per second. At that speed, the New Orleans Superdome would be full floor-to-ceiling in 14 minutes.
-One acre of land is 43,560 square feet. At 115,000 cubic feet per second, our 5 acre parcel could fill in under four seconds.
The truly sad things is I can now give these examples without blinking, without crying. This has become my life. I'm tired. I'm sad. I'm angry. But mostly I just miss the life I was living 10 days ago. And I know that that life is forever changed.
Keep praying.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
P.S.
I forgot to mention that I've grown completely accustomed to the sound of a Blackhawk helicopter over head and Bobcat tractors all over the neighborhood. Today, the National Guard detail has increased. I'm seeing the trucks more often, and just now two went by at the same time.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
New Normal
When you go through a transplanting, especially a difficult one, you discover a "new normal." I'm looking at this flood stuff as a transplanting process. Physically, many BisMan folks will be transplanted to new (hopefully temporary) homes. Physically, our bodies will never be the same after all these sandbags either. (you're supposed to smile at that)
But this 'event' is a part of a spiritual transplanting as well. We will emerge from this process as new creations; we will never be the same spiritually, emotionally, and mentally. What was once important may never be important to us again. And vice versa.
The reality is we're already changed and changing. Here are some "new normal" facts for me:
-I know that at least once a day, a National Guard truck will patrol my neighborhood. There's guardsmen posted at nearly all the main intersections near my house.
-I could care less if my hair is combed or my make-up is on. I haven't worn perfume in almost a week. I had to force myself to put on something more presentable than gardening clothes this morning.
-There's no furniture in my house, so we sit on the floor. We live out of suitcases. We eat off paper and drink out of plastic.
-I cry as soon as I hear a friend's voice. I cry when a stranger says "good luck."
-When in public, I tend to smile at and chat with strangers. Besides the fact I've only been in public twice in almost a week, the last thing I want to do is smile much less chat.
-I'm forcing myself to eat because people are bringing food and I'd feel guilty if I let it go to waste. But honestly, I don't feel like eating. Food doesn't even taste good. Not even chocolate.
-Gracey is constantly looking up into my face to see if I'm crying. Since usually I am, she says, "Don't cry mama, don't cry." This only makes me cry more.
-Adam knows all the flood terms. This one especially breaks my heart. He's 7. He shouldn't know what cubic feet per second or evacuation means. He shouldn't care what level the river is at or how to stack a sandbag.
-I'm completely comfortable crying in front of strangers and accepting hugs from them.
-Once an avid planner, I can't even think past 30-minute increments. I hear that when they knock on your door to evacuate you, you have 30 minutes. This is what our old neighbor told us this afternoon when he called.
-I miss our bunny, my neighbors, and my best friend. She's busy fighting the flood at her house. I'll be there tomorrow to help now that we're done here.
-Every morning I wake up and think, "Oh good it was just a dream." Then I look outside and see the piles of sandbags around my house. And I cry.
-I cry a lot. I try and laugh and make silly jokes but then I just cry some more.
I think those are all the changes for now. I know more are coming because in a day or so, we'll move to my sister's house.
But this 'event' is a part of a spiritual transplanting as well. We will emerge from this process as new creations; we will never be the same spiritually, emotionally, and mentally. What was once important may never be important to us again. And vice versa.
The reality is we're already changed and changing. Here are some "new normal" facts for me:
-I know that at least once a day, a National Guard truck will patrol my neighborhood. There's guardsmen posted at nearly all the main intersections near my house.
-I could care less if my hair is combed or my make-up is on. I haven't worn perfume in almost a week. I had to force myself to put on something more presentable than gardening clothes this morning.
-There's no furniture in my house, so we sit on the floor. We live out of suitcases. We eat off paper and drink out of plastic.
-I cry as soon as I hear a friend's voice. I cry when a stranger says "good luck."
-When in public, I tend to smile at and chat with strangers. Besides the fact I've only been in public twice in almost a week, the last thing I want to do is smile much less chat.
-I'm forcing myself to eat because people are bringing food and I'd feel guilty if I let it go to waste. But honestly, I don't feel like eating. Food doesn't even taste good. Not even chocolate.
-Gracey is constantly looking up into my face to see if I'm crying. Since usually I am, she says, "Don't cry mama, don't cry." This only makes me cry more.
-Adam knows all the flood terms. This one especially breaks my heart. He's 7. He shouldn't know what cubic feet per second or evacuation means. He shouldn't care what level the river is at or how to stack a sandbag.
-I'm completely comfortable crying in front of strangers and accepting hugs from them.
-Once an avid planner, I can't even think past 30-minute increments. I hear that when they knock on your door to evacuate you, you have 30 minutes. This is what our old neighbor told us this afternoon when he called.
-I miss our bunny, my neighbors, and my best friend. She's busy fighting the flood at her house. I'll be there tomorrow to help now that we're done here.
-Every morning I wake up and think, "Oh good it was just a dream." Then I look outside and see the piles of sandbags around my house. And I cry.
-I cry a lot. I try and laugh and make silly jokes but then I just cry some more.
I think those are all the changes for now. I know more are coming because in a day or so, we'll move to my sister's house.
Friday, April 22, 2011
Once Upon a Time
It's no secret that I am a sucker for fairy tales. My favorite fairy tale of all times is Cinderella. I remember seeing the movie for the first time; when she sang "If you keep on believing, the dream that you wish will come true" it resonated deeply with me even though I was just a little girl. From then on, I was a Cinderella fanatic.
My office is chock-full of Cinderella memorabilia, our wedding was Cinderella-themed and it's not unusual to hear me humming Bibbidi Bobbidi Boo. In fact, for Christmas my dad gave me a hand-crafted leather Bible cover with Cinderella on the front. It was made just for me by an inmate at the prison. (that's another story for another post) As much as I love Cinderella, though, I have to say that I was kind of disappointed when I saw that my mom and sister also got Bible covers but theirs were decorated with beautiful crosses and a Bible verse. I thought my Bible cover looked superficial and trite compared to theirs.
But then I found this verse:
She was called Cinderella because, though the Disney version leaves this part out, she tended the fire, slept among the cinders, and was covered in ashes. Made me think of the Steven Curtis Chapman song:
She was a rich baron's daughter who was transplanted into servanthood/slavery and then transplanted into the castle where she married her prince.
Tears literally filled my eyes as I realized that the childhood story I've clung to my entire life has been so much more. It's been a subtle message from God. We are all children of the Most High King. We are enslaved by our sin. But one day, the Prince of Peace will come and take us home to our castle in the sky. That's so much better than some silly glass slipper.
And I love my Bible cover more than ever now.
My office is chock-full of Cinderella memorabilia, our wedding was Cinderella-themed and it's not unusual to hear me humming Bibbidi Bobbidi Boo. In fact, for Christmas my dad gave me a hand-crafted leather Bible cover with Cinderella on the front. It was made just for me by an inmate at the prison. (that's another story for another post) As much as I love Cinderella, though, I have to say that I was kind of disappointed when I saw that my mom and sister also got Bible covers but theirs were decorated with beautiful crosses and a Bible verse. I thought my Bible cover looked superficial and trite compared to theirs.
But then I found this verse:
Blessed is the one who perseveres under trial because, having stood the test, that person will receive the crown of life that the Lord has promised to those who love him. James 1:12Well isn't that just the perfect verse for Cinderella? She lost her mother without ever knowing her. Then her father died. And then endured jeering, teasing, and underserved punishment by her "evil" step-mother and step-sisters. She did it all with a smile and a song. In the end, she got the prince, a tiara and the happily ever after we all desire.
She was called Cinderella because, though the Disney version leaves this part out, she tended the fire, slept among the cinders, and was covered in ashes. Made me think of the Steven Curtis Chapman song:
This revelation really made me consider my Bible cover differently. Then just a few days ago, as I was closing my Bible, I realized that the Cinderella story is the classic example of a...yep, you guessed it, a transplant!Out of these ashes... beauty will rise
For we know, joy is coming in the morning...
in the morning, beauty will rise
She was a rich baron's daughter who was transplanted into servanthood/slavery and then transplanted into the castle where she married her prince.
Tears literally filled my eyes as I realized that the childhood story I've clung to my entire life has been so much more. It's been a subtle message from God. We are all children of the Most High King. We are enslaved by our sin. But one day, the Prince of Peace will come and take us home to our castle in the sky. That's so much better than some silly glass slipper.
And I love my Bible cover more than ever now.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Transplantable
trans·plant /v. trænsˈplænt, -ˈplɑnt; n. ˈtrænsˌplænt, -ˌplɑnt/
–verb (used with object)
1. to remove (a plant) from one place and plant it in another.
2. Surgery . to transfer (an organ, tissue, etc.) from one part of the body to another or from one person or animal to another.
3. to move from one place to another.
4. to bring (a family, colony, etc.) from one country, region, etc., to another for settlement; relocate.
–verb (used without object)
5. to undergo or accept transplanting: to transplant easily.
–noun
6. the act or process of transplanting.
7. a plant, organ, person, etc., that has been transplanted.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Origin:
1400–50; late Middle English < Late Latin trānsplantāre, equivalent to Latin trāns- trans- + plantāre to plant
—Related forms
trans·plant·a·ble, adjective This variation of transplant is particularly interesting to me. It indicates that not all things are able or willing to be transplanted. My plumeria, for example, was transplanted each year and this contributed to its growth because it needed more space for its roots in a bigger pot. But some plants like the desertbells flower is not transplantable. It won't survive. This makes me wonder about our transplantability. I believe we are all transplantable. God does it to help us grow and thrive. However, sometimes our transplanting leads to a temporary period of non-growth, suffering or wilting. And then it begs the next question, if we resist transplanting by refusing to take a new job, move to a new place, serve in a new ministry do we become non-transplantable? I mean to ask you this, are you transplantable? Are you allowing God to transplant, prune and shape you for future growth?
trans·plan·ta·tion, noun
trans·plant·er, noun
re·trans·plant, verb (used with object)
re·trans·plan·ta·tion, noun
un·trans·plant·ed, adjective
–verb (used with object)
1. to remove (a plant) from one place and plant it in another.
2. Surgery . to transfer (an organ, tissue, etc.) from one part of the body to another or from one person or animal to another.
3. to move from one place to another.
4. to bring (a family, colony, etc.) from one country, region, etc., to another for settlement; relocate.
–verb (used without object)
5. to undergo or accept transplanting: to transplant easily.
–noun
6. the act or process of transplanting.
7. a plant, organ, person, etc., that has been transplanted.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Origin:
1400–50; late Middle English < Late Latin trānsplantāre, equivalent to Latin trāns- trans- + plantāre to plant
—Related forms
trans·plant·a·ble, adjective This variation of transplant is particularly interesting to me. It indicates that not all things are able or willing to be transplanted. My plumeria, for example, was transplanted each year and this contributed to its growth because it needed more space for its roots in a bigger pot. But some plants like the desertbells flower is not transplantable. It won't survive. This makes me wonder about our transplantability. I believe we are all transplantable. God does it to help us grow and thrive. However, sometimes our transplanting leads to a temporary period of non-growth, suffering or wilting. And then it begs the next question, if we resist transplanting by refusing to take a new job, move to a new place, serve in a new ministry do we become non-transplantable? I mean to ask you this, are you transplantable? Are you allowing God to transplant, prune and shape you for future growth?
trans·plan·ta·tion, noun
trans·plant·er, noun
re·trans·plant, verb (used with object)
re·trans·plan·ta·tion, noun
un·trans·plant·ed, adjective
Thursday, March 31, 2011
There's a New Rose in My Garden
No. I am not pregnant.
Scott started his new job last week. He spent the first week away in Missouri at training. And now he is almost done with his second week.
The thing is, he now works from home.
This transplanting of my husband from his out-of-the-house office to his in-our-house office has been an adjustment for both of us. To say the least it has been an adjustment. One to which we are still adjusting.
Monday was a crazy day because I had to run him to Mandan to get his new work van. Being that it's been stored outside for three months, it was buried in several feet of snow. We were told to to come back when they'd released it from its snow trap. The day was all chopped up, but we rolled with it.
Tuesday he began conducting inventory of his van. Most of the inventory ended up on my dining room table. I'm a "place for everything and everything in its place" kind of gal, so this put me off-kilter despite his warnings that he'd made a mess in the house when I got home from story time with Gracey.
Wednesday he had to go to one of the branches he services for part of the day and did so after clearing out my dining room. I was grateful to him for doing so.
Today we have managed to stay out from under each other's feet, so I think we're finding our stride.
Now if only he'd remember this new office building of his does not come equipped with a separate men's room, so it would be much appreciated if he'd put the seat down when he's done. :)
Scott started his new job last week. He spent the first week away in Missouri at training. And now he is almost done with his second week.
The thing is, he now works from home.
This transplanting of my husband from his out-of-the-house office to his in-our-house office has been an adjustment for both of us. To say the least it has been an adjustment. One to which we are still adjusting.
Monday was a crazy day because I had to run him to Mandan to get his new work van. Being that it's been stored outside for three months, it was buried in several feet of snow. We were told to to come back when they'd released it from its snow trap. The day was all chopped up, but we rolled with it.
Tuesday he began conducting inventory of his van. Most of the inventory ended up on my dining room table. I'm a "place for everything and everything in its place" kind of gal, so this put me off-kilter despite his warnings that he'd made a mess in the house when I got home from story time with Gracey.
Wednesday he had to go to one of the branches he services for part of the day and did so after clearing out my dining room. I was grateful to him for doing so.
Today we have managed to stay out from under each other's feet, so I think we're finding our stride.
Now if only he'd remember this new office building of his does not come equipped with a separate men's room, so it would be much appreciated if he'd put the seat down when he's done. :)
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Saul: From Donkey to Crown
1 Samuel 9-10 tell the story of Saul, a Benjaminite man who "stood a head above the rest" of Israel, who at the time, was crying out for a king so they could be like other nations. 1 Samuel 9 dawns with Saul being sent out to look for his father's lost donkeys. But when he doesn't find them, he and his servant set out to find the prophet Samuel so they might be told where to go next. God has already told Samuel that He will show him who the king of Israel will be and when Samuel sees Saul, God says, "This is the man I told you about." By the end of chapter 10, Saul has been crowned king.
Within 2 short chapters of the Old Testament, this young man goes from searching for lost donkeys to becoming king of Israel. Talk about a career change. Talk about a major transplanting.
When Saul set out that day to search for the donkeys he had no idea he would end up king. His story is not unlike that of Moses, Joseph or David. All are physical transplants, being moved from one place to another, from one purpose to another, from one occupation to another. And none of the ever suspect it until God acts.
The moral of this transplant story: Sometimes God surprises us with a crown when we were looking for lost livestock.
P.S. Does anyone think it's a coincidence that hundreds of years later the King of Kings chooses a donkey to ride into Jerusalem? I don't.
Monday, March 28, 2011
Transplants
How did I get here? It's a question we ask many times whether it's about our home, job, marriage, financial status or even some sort of mess. How did I get here, God? I've asked it of myself again and again.
During the long(er) winters of North Dakota, I ask myself this question even more. And sometimes I chuckle. If I, through some sort of time-travel device, go back and tell my younger self that I would one day be a stay-at-home mom who sells Avon and lives in rural Bismarck, I would have certainly questioned my own sanity. Surely I always planned on getting married, having kids and doing something I loved. But Avon was for old ladies and North Dakota was farmland in the middle of the country where my grandparents' funny-talking relatives lived.
The road between that Kristy and this Kristy has been a long one. But to answer the question, "How did I get here?" I will say this: God transplanted me.
Sometimes God transplants us in order to accomplish the work He has set forth for us to do. By doing this, He draws us closer to Him and, through us, brings glory to Himself. And, if we were not transplanted, or somehow resist the transplanting, perhaps we'd miss out on bringing Him glory the way He intended? Maybe we would never accomplish the work He set forth?
The Bible is full of transplants. A few notable transplants to think about:
During the long(er) winters of North Dakota, I ask myself this question even more. And sometimes I chuckle. If I, through some sort of time-travel device, go back and tell my younger self that I would one day be a stay-at-home mom who sells Avon and lives in rural Bismarck, I would have certainly questioned my own sanity. Surely I always planned on getting married, having kids and doing something I loved. But Avon was for old ladies and North Dakota was farmland in the middle of the country where my grandparents' funny-talking relatives lived.
The road between that Kristy and this Kristy has been a long one. But to answer the question, "How did I get here?" I will say this: God transplanted me.
Sometimes God transplants us in order to accomplish the work He has set forth for us to do. By doing this, He draws us closer to Him and, through us, brings glory to Himself. And, if we were not transplanted, or somehow resist the transplanting, perhaps we'd miss out on bringing Him glory the way He intended? Maybe we would never accomplish the work He set forth?
The Bible is full of transplants. A few notable transplants to think about:
- Jesus: He left heaven, came to earth as a man to sacrifice Himself so we could all be saved.
- Disciples: They left their homes, jobs and families to follow Jesus.
- Moses: Set into the Nile in a basket, he ended up in Pharoah's household and then fled Egypt only to return to set the Hebrews free.
- Hebrews/Israelites: If you read the Pentateuch (the first 5 books of the Bible), you will see that this group of people were transplanted time after time, most obviously into Egypt, then out of Egypt then into the desert and finally into the Promised Land.
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