The Fortress

Walt Disney really got around. According to the local tour guides, after Disney visited Segovia, Spain, he was inspired by the Alcazar and rushed home to build Cinderella's castle in Disney World. Wikepedia concurs, so it must be so.

Nowadays, with nuclear war looming at every turn, it seems almost quaint to think that a fortress was the first line of defense against an enemy. Could the whole town's population really fit inside its walls? When I took the tour of this palace, it sure didn't seem as though that would be the case. (Maybe people were smaller back then.)

But let's assume they could. What a wonderful feeling that would have been, to know that you were safe within the walls of the castle and that someone, preferably many, well-armed and well-trained soldiers would defend you against marauders and murderers and approaching armies.

I've always wanted to think of my home as my sanctuary, a place where I can kick off my shoes, change into something cozy and get comfortable when I walk inside the door. . . a place where I'm safe from the outside world, where I'm accepted as I am, and where I don't have to work at being accepted or understood. In an ideal world, that would really happen.

But the real world sometimes slips under the doorjamb and invades my vision of what my 'house of refuge' is supposed to be protecting me against. Doors slam, voices raise, or even worse, an uncomfortable silence permeates every nook and cranny.

When that happens, it's good to know that there is a Mighty Fortress who I can run to. I will always fit within His walls, I will never be shut out, and He's always home. I can run 'home' any time I want.

Cinderella's Castle may have been a figment of one man's prolific imagination, but my God, thankfully, is not.

"The LORD is my Rock, my Fortress and my Deliverer; my God is my Rock, in whom I take refuge, my Shield and the Horn of my salvation, my Stronghold."

Psalm 18:2

Blue Nudes

So many of the people in my life are artists--Phyllis Jean paints sublime blue nudes on Chinese silk. Maggie is an emerging sculptor. Donna writes poems. Susan creates jewelry. Bob carries his trumpet in his back pocket and plays anywhere there is a stage and an audience. Peter plays the harmonica like Bob Dylan. My sister, Karen, was an actress, a seamstress, a chef. Sandy, my niece, writes screenplays. Kristi sings like an angel, and my daughter dances like an angel. There are many others...all so creative that I envy their talents.

However, not one of these people earn (or earned) their living solely using their artistic talent. I'm reading a book right now about Claude Monet. Just about everyone today recognizes that name as the founder of the Impressionism art movement and appreciates his genius. But for much of his life, he lived in abject poverty and struggled to make ends meet, unable to sell his work for many years. For so many gifted artists, it is the same.

Where does the passion and drive to create such beauty, even in the face of hardship and obstacles, come from? Why don't they just get up, brush their teeth, go to work, go home, eat dinner, watch TV and go to bed (like the rest of us)? What inspires them?

I'm not an artist, so I can't begin to imagine how each of them sees the world and how they strive to interpret it using their particular gift. How does a sculptor 'see' the David in a block of marble? How does a white canvas become a blue nude or a pond of water lilies? How do musicians 'jam'? How does a dancer see the steps in the music? I haven't a clue. Truly, these are gifts from God.

God has created in each of us something that not only understands beauty, but craves it. Unlike any other created being, we are able to appreciate it when we see it, hear it, touch it, taste it. Amazingly, there is even something in us that compels us to create beauty.

God made us 'in His image', that is, a little like Himself. He is the One who streaks the sunset across the sky, sparkles a full moon over the ocean, sprinkles the glistening morning dew on blades of grass, and whistles the winter wind through naked tree branches.

We are a little like the Artist and Creator of the universe...now there's a thought that inspires me.

"So God created man in His own image, in the image of God He created him. . God saw all that He had made, and it was very good." Genesis 1: 27, 31

Guapote

This fish is about as ugly as they come. When I first arrived in Nicaragua, a naïve young 20-something year old, I think my husband-to-be enjoyed testing me to see my reaction to some of the peculiar foods he put in front of me: tripe soup, stewed tongue, live black oysters, deep-fried pork skins, and my favorite, a fried fresh-water whole bass smothered in tomatoes and onions, called 'guapote'.

'Guapote' live in Lake Nicaragua, one of the only places in the world where fresh water sharks are found. These bass are caught the same day you eat them and served whole, usually with the eyes staring right at you. All I could think of when it was set before me for the very first time was, "My mom couldn't eat this."

Actually, this dish turned out to be my all-time favorite, one that I would travel miles for. I wouldn't think of a trip to Nicaragua without a trip to Granada for a 'super-sized' guapote and all the fixin's.

There really isn't a region or country that I have visited that I haven't enjoyed the local cuisine. I'll try pretty much anything. Some of it has been gourmet, some of it downright unusual. Once in Taiwan I discovered, after several minutes of being 'lost in translation', that I had eaten stir-fried bumblebees. (Was that tour guide just testing me??)

When God breathed life into man and woman, as recounted in the book of Genesis, He also provided everything we needed to survive and to live an abundant life. He meant for us to be 'fully satisfied' so that we would turn to Him in thankfulness.

Unfortunately, that's not exactly how the story ends...but I will start by being thankful for an ugly fresh-water bass from the waters of Lake Nicaragua.

It's going to take a little more time to be thankful for stir-fried bumblebees.

"I will be fully satisfied as with the richest of foods; with singing lips my mouth will praise You." Psalm 63:5

The Volcano

Santiago, one of Nicaragua's numerous active volcanoes, is one of the few volcanoes in the world where you can drive to the rim and peer into the crater to see the hot, molten lava--without being consumed by it, or I wouldn't be here to tell the story.

The day this photo was taken, years ago, my sister and I felt compelled to crawl, not walk, to the edge on our hands and knees. I remember thinking how wild and untamed the area was. There were no guardrails to keep people from falling off or throwing themselves off. No one did that day, but I wouldn't have been surprised to hear that it had happened. There was kind of an eerie 'pull' that threatened to drag you downward.

On the other hand, here in the States I have always felt that nature was tamed and safe and predictable. National parks have park rangers, well-marked paths, picnic tables, trash cans, and maps with little arrows that say, "You are here". Of course, people do wander off the beaten track and sometimes get lost or fall over a waterfall, as happened this summer in Yosemite Park. But you have to ignore a lot of warnings and safety rails in order to do so.

I think sometimes we tend to put guardrails around our perception of God and think we can tame Him somehow and compartmentalize Him. We don't quite realize how majestic and holy and completely untamable He truly is.

Putting a guardrail around the crater may lull us into thinking that we are safe and that the lava is harmless and manageable. How silly. Only God can tame the potential fury of the molten lava and keep it from erupting.

Or not.

"Ascribe to the LORD the glory due His name; bring an offering and come before Him. Worship the LORD in the splendor of His holiness. Tremble before Him, all the earth! . . .Let the heavens rejoice, let the earth be glad; let them say among the nations, "The LORD reigns!"

I Chronicles 16: 28-31

Mudpies

This may be a weed to you, but to me it spells 'm-u-d-p-i-e-s'. In the Midwest we call it 'Queen Anne's Lace', and it was the key ingredient in the luscious concoctions my sister and I made when we ran out the back door to play in the forest behind our house on summer afternoons.

We grew up in an innocent era when our moms shooed us outside to play, and we'd spend the entire day roaming the neighborhood. The only restriction in our family was we had to be back by 5:00. Or else.

But man, those mudpie afternoons. . .when I think about how simple and carefree life was in those days, it seems like another person might have lived them. Not only has my life changed dramatically over the years, but it seems the whole world has changed. It's a lot scarier for kids and parents alike. If I was a young mom today, I don't know if I'd let my kids ride their bikes to school or play in a park unsupervised. Heck, I don't know if I'd let them walk down a hallway alone!

Sure, we fought far-away wars overseas, but no one worried about neighbors kidnapping children out of their own bedrooms or snatching them from the school bustop. How could you ever have even conceived of a plane flying into a building on purpose?

If I had known a little botany back in those days, I might have had a healthy respect for the lowly, lacey weed called Queen Anne's Lace. Turns out, it is not only a type of wild carrot, but it's also a dead ringer for poison hemlock! Gulp. What if I had actually EATEN those mudpies??

But if I give in to the terror of unknown evils lurking behind every corner, I become a prisoner of fear. God desires us to face our world with grace and courage, not with fear and trembling. He alone can give us that calm assurance that we can face each day with confidence, knowing we are infinitely loved and that we matter eternally.

"The LORD is the stronghold of my life--of whom shall I be afraid?" Psalm 27:1

The Wedding

There is nothing quite like seeing your child get married. This spring I was privileged to take part in my son's wedding. It couldn't have been more beautiful--on Miami Beach, in the botanical gardens, under the stars...the romantic quotient was way high that night.

So much planning goes into a wedding. Anyone who has gone through it knows: a year is not too far ahead to begin. But really, I have been praying for my kids' (potential) future spouses since the time they were little.

It was strange to pray that prayer while they were still playing in the Little League, or riding bicycles, or roller skating, or sleeping in choo-choo-train jammies... and then to think about some other little boy or girl growing up somewhere else who would one day be part of our family...but I believed then, as I do now, that God has a plan for each of their lives, and if that plan included a spouse, then He has had that person in His mind since the beginning of time.

In the romantic glow of the wedding vows, all things seem possible. But anyone who has been married more than a few days also knows that the most satisfying and the most difficult thing you ever do in life is making that relationship work every single day.

What a mystery marriage is--and what a picture of God's tender love for His crowning creation, human beings. Man and woman, each created uniquely different, but complementary to each other, are joined together as one flesh to share all aspects of their lives--their hopes, their dreams, and their sorrows.

God draws near to us and desires to be in relationship with us. He paints pictures of Himself in the world we live in--in marriages, in children, in sunsets and romantic starry nights. As we share our hopes and dreams and sorrows with Him, He rejoices in our victories, comforts us in our sorrows, and gives us hope for a better day tomorrow.

The prayer I prayed so long ago was finally answered in my beautiful daughter-in-law. (So cool, God!) I think I can get rid of those choo-choo-train pajamas now.

"For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and they will become one flesh." Genesis 2:24

The Vine

Once you've lived in California like we did for four years, you understand why people love it there. If you can live with the thought that an earthquake can happen at any time (which it did while we were there, in 1989), it's fabulous! Within four hours of San Francisco, you can be in the mountains, on the beach, in the redwood forest, or in wine country.

This August I discovered another wine-producing area, that is to say, not Napa or Sonoma, in southern California: Temecula, where my nephew and niece were married. My daughters and I visited the vineyards and did some wine-tasting--we loved it all so much we joined one of the vineyards. We'll be tasting the 'fruit of the vine' for months to come.

To see the grapes dripping off the vines was thrilling. The vineyards are not lush, which surprised me. The soil is dry and dusty and stands in stark contrast to the green foliage of the vines. When you get up close, you see the grapes huddled behind the leaves, protected from the scorching sun. How they coax those plants into producing such a bounty (not to mention the wine!) is astonishing.

So much of my life has been striving to accomplish things--getting a degree, teaching, moving, raising kids, paying the bills. There has been so much rushing around, (I've counted 18 moves in my life so far), that having the time, at this stage of my life, to be 'still' has been a luxury.

God longs for us to 'be still and know that I am God' (Psalm 46:10)--in fact, when we do, and we allow ourselves to get connected to the true Vine, an amazing thing happens: we bear fruit. And we don't even have to move a muscle.

"I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in Me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from Me you can do nothing." John 15: 5

Baby M2.0

All my nieces and nephews are having babies. Or at least it seems that way. First, everyone was getting married. Now, it's babies. This summer I had the privilege of meeting a few more who had been born this past year. They are beautiful bundles of energy--just watching them was a little exhausting.

This sonogram is a photo of my niece and nephew's second baby, at the moment referred to as 'Baby M2.0'. Ultrasound images have improved remarkably since I had one years ago--now you can clearly see their little profiles or fingers or...well, you know.

When I was younger, I had my life-plan list: college, travel, marriage, babies. I wanted life in a neat package, and I expected to 'have it my way'. Of course, it didn't turn out exactly the way I had imagined it, but many of the things on the list I was fortunate to have been able to experience, including the birth of three remarkable children.

If you ask a woman who happens to be a mother what day was her most memorable, I'm sure most would say the day her baby was born. I would have to say the same. What a miracle birth is! How is it possible that two people can come together and create a new human being? And from the moment of birth, these little people have their own unique, individual personalities. If you have more than one child, even twins, you are even more convinced. They charge through the birth canal with their own 'life plan', and the adventure begins.

The womb, however, is not the secret place it used to be, now that ultrasounds can produce such detailed sonogram photos of the baby in the womb. But the fact that we can see images of the baby only intensifies the sense of wonder and awe of the miraculous event that is unfolding. The miracle is not that humans create a baby, but that God creates a baby and then breathes life and a unique personality into him or her.

I can't wait to meet Baby M2.0. I'm sure he or she is already making her life plan--and the rest of us, this 'tia' included, will just sit back and watch the adventure unfold.

"I praise You because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; Your works are wonderful, I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from You when I was made in the secret place, when I was woven together in the depths of the earth." Psalm 139:14-15

Bread

When I stopped my car by the side of the road in Wisconsin to take this photo, I was struck at how time seemed to have stopped. Obviously, what I saw was the result of many hours of labor, yet all was now still. The bales seemed to be saying, "We are ready. What now?" An air of expectancy lingered in the air.

The central plains of the U.S. is commonly called the 'breadbasket of the world'. We are capable of feeding so much of the world's population. When my Nicaraguan aunt first came to the U.S. to visit us in central Illinois, it was springtime, and the ground was ready to be planted. The soil was black and rich and had just been turned over. She asked if they had 'burned' the ground already. 'Slash-and-burn' is still common in Central America but makes the ground increasingly nutrient-poor each successive year. It is usually practiced where people are growing for subsistence, just to survive another season.

God has abundantly blessed this country. It was not until I left the States to live overseas that I really understood how much. What we take for granted here are luxuries in many parts of the world--potable water, food in the markets, nutrient-rich soil, individual rights, just to name a few.

I don't think there are many hearts that do not melt when they see the pitiful babies on TV from overseas that lack the most basic of human needs: food and water. Statistics say that about 13% of the world's population is malnourished, many of them children.

I know my heart breaks, especially for the children. How do we reconcile the suffering of innocent children and a compassionate, loving God? I wish I had the perfect answer to that--but I do know that much of the suffering we see is caused by man's corruption, greed, selfishness, political maneuvering, apathy, or the insatiable lust for power.

God calls us out of all of that and longs to fulfill our basic needs--hunger and thirst. It starts with a longing for Him and ends with a deep satisfaction that penetrates to the center of our souls--and then moves outward to encompass a genuine love for others. There is no 'slash and burn' here, just a burning desire to change the world, one tender soul at a time.

"Then Jesus declared, 'I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never go hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.'" John 6:34

Water Lilies

One plant in the Botanical Gardens stopped me dead in my tracks. It always amazes me how diverse the flora and fauna of a region is, but this particular plant blew me away.

I'm sure you have seen one before--a water lily. So far, so good. But this one is a GIANT Victoria water lily, which can grow over 9 feet in diameter. They produce a flower that lives only lives 48 hours. The flower begins life as a female, attracts beetles to its center, and then closes and traps the beetles. In the morning, it releases the beetles, which then cross-pollinate the plants. But the flower is now male. Soon after, it wilts and dies. Wow. What a life.

You can't choose who your parents are, what country you are born in, what language you grow up speaking, or whether you are male or female. But I have often wondered what it would be like to be a man, to experience life from a male vantage-point. And there were certainly days when I wished my husband could have traded places with me for just one day--(I would have picked a 'birth' day I think...or maybe a day during menopause.)

Even though I lived with a member of the male species for over 35 years, he remained a little bit of a mystery to me. We thought differently, reacted differently, felt and loved each other a little differently. He was as 'male' as they come. I dare say, even a little 'macho'--a true Latin and a true gentleman--vive la difference!

But God sees us, like the giant water lilies, as both and neither male or female. Unlike me, He understands both because He created us uniquely and awesomely just the way He intended us to be from the beginning of time. Human. Male or female. But not, thankfully, as beautiful as they are, a water lily.

"There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus." Galatians 3:28

Discipline

Disciplining your kids is the hardest part of raising them. Your natural inclination as a parent is to give them everything they want, whether it's their favorite dessert or the newest fad toy on the market (who didn't stand in line in the pouring rain for a Cabbage Patch kid??). But if you give in to that on a regular basis, you will end up with a spoiled brat who can't get along with others and whom you hardly want around yourself.

Mark Twain had a solution: "When a boy turns 13, seal him in a barrel and feed him through a knothole. When he turns 16, plug up the hole." I'm sure he wasn't serious, although I might have been tempted had I thought of it in the midst of those terrible teen years.

My daughter is now a caseworker for a non-profit foster care agency. She has a challenging job--she sees some of the toughest cases of child abuse and neglect in the county. In some extreme cases, she may even need to recommend separation of children from their parents in order to safeguard the child. In my most egocentric moments, I want to think that she is well-prepared for her job because of the upbringing she had. The fact that she had boundaries and loving discipline as a child makes her better able to see and understand how sadly far off the mark some parents are.

Either extreme, too lax or too strict and harsh, is never good parenting. Somewhere in the middle is the gold standard: administering loving discipline and realistic boundaries. Although they squawk and complain, (and parents often find it almost as painful), most kids don't seem to thrive without a good dose of both.

I'm glad I never tried the barrel technique. But I'm also glad I stood in the rain for that Cabbage Patch kid.

"No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it." Hebrews 12:11

Gray Hairs

It may not look like it, but there is a head of gray under all those highlights and lowlights. Actually, my stylist calls it 'salt and pepper', not gray. She is in no danger of losing her job. She's set for life, if my loyalty to her is any indication of the devotedness of the rest of her clients.

I have no idea how gray I really am, since I've never actually seen them. But I know I've earned every one of them. If stress turns hair white, then I've certainly had my share--I've lived through a revolution in Central America, an earthquake in California, a hurricane in Miami, a break-in to our home, theft of our car, several cross-country and cross-cultural moves, raising three kids (now, why would THAT cause any stress??), the empty nest, the loss of my sister, my husband, and recently, my father, not to mention the normal stresses of living in this modern, ever-changing, fast-paced world of ours.

Who wouldn't have a few gray hairs?

Figuring out how to confront and handle the inevitable stresses in our lives is not easy. Only my 97+ aunt is clueless as to what role stress plays in life. She can't even define it! The rest of us try to ignore it, cover it up, stuff it down, or take it out on someone else.

But I have found the best solution is to give it away to Someone big enough to handle it all for me: Someone who can hang the stars and the moon, keep the planets revolving around the sun and rotating on their axes, and still carry my burdens for me.

He promised. Gray hair and all.

"Even to your old age and gray hairs I am he, I am he who will sustain you.
I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you." Isaiah 46:4-5