God Felt

Katy's poem on the Incarnation from last year's creative writing course. I like it.

God Felt

God's Self poured into the form of man--

Word to Flesh. Universe's Splendor confined

In mortal shell--Son of God. Son of man.

Spirit fused with bone

And blood.  Forsook well-deserved Paradise.

Planted His feet on fingertip-molded

Globe, touched Creation and Felt:

Dirt caked between toes

and rain of prostitute's tears swirling into mud.

Leper's mangled skin melting

into smooth under His fingertips.

Tickle of salt-sweat tumbling down skin.

Cracked-dry tongue pleading for wet

And scratching of vacant stomach.

Pain of friend's death

and hot tears of agony sliding down face.

Severed Roman ear sticky with coppery blood

Then reunited with trembling body.

Nail sinking into skin and embedding

In wood beneath. Fellowship of Father

Refused. Piercing pain of Trinity

Split.

Droplets of moisture gathering

on stone sepulcher thick with Dark and

Silence.

Crashing of Stone shattered. Cave

Flooded with torrent

of light. Victory of Death

Crushed. Creation.

Redeemed through the beams of the Son.

Snow chicks

I used to laugh at my mom who would get giddy when all of her "chicks" would come home. I don't laugh at her anymore, only with her, understanding now her delight.  Michael came home on Thursday and it is sheer pleasure to have a full house again, to set 6 places at the table, to hear how Katy, Abigail, and Daniel's personalities change, or maybe become more full, when they are all together. I have thanked God over and over again for the treasure that they are to me, and have thanked Ed repeatedly for entrusting these kiddos to me. 

We've had wonderful snow, Thursday and again today, at least a foot. So, even Michael and grumpy riser Abigail woke up early today to shovel and head out, snowboards tied down and bodies bundled up, trying to beat the crowd at Poiana. It's an amazing thing to be surrounded by people zipping by on their skis and snowboards, and yet feel like we're the only ones there. So it was today, but we hope to go back Monday when everyone else is working and really be the only ones around!

Ed said, after Katy and Daniel's close call with the head clonking, "That does it, we're getting helmets." Some of us whined and others began planning their outfits. In the end, all of us got them, and we think we all look good.  Michael even brought me a new jacket for Christmas to match my baby blue Barbie-ish helmet. (I think they were embarrassed with my previous outfit.) 

Katy, Daniel, and Abi zipping down. Michael is the photographer this time.
And, though we're really too old to be doing this, Ed and I have fun, too. The amazing thing is that our kids want us to come with them. I guess we're not too embarrassing and maybe not too old, either.
He looks Air Force doesn't he?

Crossing cultures part 2

This time last year we were killing a pig. Saturday morning I woke up to the squeal-the death squeal. You can't imagine how unsettling that noise it. It's a familiar sound these days, though. I read the other day that it's one thing the EU law enforcers may be willing to overlook when it comes to Romania complying to their codes of both sanitation and animal rights. It was reported that 1.5 million pigs will be slaughtered in backyards this Christmas in Romania. That's a lot of people to make angry if that traditions is taken away.

Traditionally, Romanians kill a pig a few days or weeks before Christmas and feast for the holidays. They don't just eat ham, tenderloin, roast...Their delicacies include toba (the parts that would likely be thrown away by most of us but are instead boiled and stuffed inside the stomach and smoked); piftea (similar parts, i.e. ears, feet, snout...boiled into a gelatin; a meat jello, if you can picture it); pateu (liver, heart, tongue... ground and then baked like a meatloaf). And then they do the more subdued dishes like sausage stuffed in the intestines; tenderloin wrapped in sausage and then wrapped again with the parataneam (you remember from biology class, the lacy net that holds the organs together).

So, from the sound of that pig, our neighbors have been busy, cutting, burning, boiling, stuffing and anxiously awaiting the feast to come. How do I know? We did it last year.

"Entering in" is what we're called to do. We did with this extremely traditional and cultural event last year. It put us on the inside as we visited people throughout the season, exchanging pig cutting (that's what they call it) stories. I think they were surprised and grateful that we shared their lives in that way.

So this year, we've chosen to spare our stomachs and the pig, trusting that our efforts from last year will suffice.

Crossing cultures

First of all, I am guilty. When I suggested that we start a blog, Ed warned me that it takes nothing to start a blog; keeping it up is the challenge.  He was right.  So, since last post, lots really has happened. Maybe that takes at least part of the blame for my negligence.  Let's see to fill in the gaps with the big events...in the last month Katy and I have been to Mississippi to visit Millsaps and Belhaven college; Ed, Katy and I were in Atlanta for 2 different sets of meetings together, and Ed had a third without us; I had a root canal; Ed had a tube put in his ear; Ed was diagnosed with a skin-eating disease on his elbow (which a high dosage of antibiotics has cured...we hope); we had the Watnes in our home for several days and celebrated Thanksgiving with our entire team, minus Nena who was in the States; Ed and I went to London for an IPC presbytery meeting. And this is all in between the normal events of our lives: a late night discussion around the kitchen table with Danez, Monica, and Simona about marriage and relationships; weekly phone meetings for me with Melania and Ed with Daniel (pastor and his wife in Tirgiu Jiu); Ed's weekly 4-5 hour meetings with Danez, Razvan and Erwin; weekly prayer meeting and our monthly day of prayer and fasting with the team; music lessons; art lessons; a sleepover with Jessalyn Ebbers; weekly wine and games with Angela and Traian, that last week turned into fish soup and liver (see next blog); weekly meetings with the pastors with whom we're working; regular email maintenance; Ed's meetings with a couple whose marriage is in crisis, a man whose wife is dying of cancer, and a couple whose 21 year old daughter recently died in a car accident... I wonder why we're tired. We've been talking lately about not growing weary, and I've been wrestling with the balance of working and resting. We're called to both; I find it challenging to maintain equilibrium between the two. Sovereignty of God and Responsibility of Man. That's been the running theme in our discussions as a family for the last few months. Labor...for it is God who works. Rest. Run. Be still. Work. Wait.  

We met with some friends of ours from El Salvador who have been in Romania for about 8 years. Their home culture is a lot more like Romanian culture than American culture is like either. I think for them, it's been an easier journey in some respects to adapt to this different lifestyle. As we discussed with Francisco our sense of being weary, his response was, "You're so American. So product oriented." I think he's right. We so want to see things happen, which is a good thing, but often forget that the "happening" isn't really dependent on us. Even after 2 1/2 years, I find it difficult to shake the desire to "do". Romania's culture is much more of a "be" lifestyle, which is refreshing. They typically don't live with agendas or schedules. The process is enjoyed as much as the product. The down side of this is that things don't generally (if ever) get done when we'd like. "Imediat" one would think means "immediately" and by definition it does; however, we've learned that the real meaning of the word is "whenever I get to it". So, we're reminded again that both are fallen cultures, in need of redemption from our over driven-ness and our excessive lack of it.

Midterm Report for Kingstone Academy

Abigail and Daniel are studying the Middle Ages through the Reformation this year. Nicholas has selected a pretty stout reading list, including Augustine's "Confessions"; Eusibius's "Church History"; and Beowulf, thus far. Before they're through this year, they will have tackled "Canterbury Tales", "Sir Gawain and the Green Knight", and "Here I Stand" by Luther, as well as others I can't remember. Challenging, I'd say. Yet, they have read, wrestled, written, and discussed without complain. Almost. Nicholas is really good at pushing them to think and then to communicate their thoughts. He's been great for each of them. The only problem, that's not really a problem but a blessing, is that they no longer come to me for help because so much of what they are studying is beyond me. Now, they are reading Augustine and writing a journal each week about what they've read. Daniel said, "I really like this guy. He's got lots of good quotes." Nicholas has also begun purchasing "The Economist" which they are all reading weekly and writing a journal on what they read. I think this came about when no one knew anything about the presidential election, or who might be running. They both love biology, and Daniel said Algebra is getting hard.

Katy is presently reading Macbeth, the third Shakespeare play she's studying this semester, and in the process is wrestling through the issue of war. Is there a just war? Is war ever necessary? What about the war in Iraq? What does God think of war? It's made for some interesting dinner table discussions. She's also been doing Dave Ramsey's class on managing finances. We call it economics. She comes home wanting to invest in mutual funds, talking about compound interest, and asking about budgeting. I don't worry about her blowing money in college! Her government class is with an online school, The Potter's School, primarily for homeschoolers, but also used by small Christian schools. She meets once a week (Thursday nights) for a live online course with about 10 other kids. Her teacher worked with the US Department of Homeland Security. So, it should be an interesting class, but she's been a bit disappointed because it's mostly discussion with kids who have a pretty narrow perspective on politics, life, and culture. (I think living cross-culturally has opened our kids' eyes; now the challenge is to not become proud in their own eyes.) She was hoping for more influence and wisdom shared by her prof. Maybe that will come later. She also loves physics, which is causing confusion in thinking about what to pursue in college: International Studies or Chemistry/Physics. We're praying a lot these days about college choice, trusting that the Lord already has the right one selected for her.

Our latest Kingstone Academy event was Tuesday night in our barn. Ed, Abi and Dan worked all weekend trying to finish walls and windows so that our barn out back would be ready for the Beowulf Feast that the 9th grade had planned. The event was a brain child of Nicholas, who wanted to read the entire play aloud in one sitting. His original idea was to rent out the Lutheran church (built in the Middle Ages) for the night. We nixed that idea for simplicity's sake. Abi's idea was to research and prepare a feast with a menu originating in the Middle Ages. Daniel just went along. So, just before guests arrived (Elena, her sisters, Ana, Jonah, Darin, Jessalyn and Aaron) the windows were installed and a fire lit in the soba, that made the "Mead hall" quite toasty and cozy. We ate grilled chicken and beer bread (by Daniel); cooked cabbage, peas and a meat pie (by Abigail) and bread pudding (by Nicholas). It was all quite yummy and prepared us well for the 2 1/2 hours of reading that followed. The kids dressed in black, looking like beat poets, and read with gusto. We listened intently at times, and sleepily as the night wore on; but we were faithful to the end. I've even heard discussion from some of our eager readers of hosting a Shakespeare reading. The 12th grade would probably have to recruit the project manager from the 9th grade to help her pull off a night like this one. One guess who that party planner is!

First Big Snow

One of the nice things about our job, is that after a Sabbath that didn't include much physical rest and ended at midnight after finishing a prayer letter, we were able to take the morning off of school and work and enjoy an unexpected snow on the quiet hills of Poiana for a couple of hours.
Elijah and Ed
Katy and Jessalyn
Elijah Ebbers balancing on the bottom half of Abigail's snowman.
Our pleasant morning ended with Katy and Daniel's accident, which involved two sleds colliding, bodies tumbling, and heads crashing. Nicholas said it reminded him of the song from Aladdin "Tumbling, soaring, freewheeling..." The fact that they were both nearly knocked unconcious, lost their peripheral vision, were nautious, and had major headaches led us to the conclusion that we would buy helmets this year for snowboarding. After a quiet afternoon around the fire, reading and resting, all is well and no trips to the hospital were made. We can still say, "A good time was had by all."

A morning off

Our lives are busy. Judging the "to-do" list against the "done" on that list, the busyness isn't always apparent. But we're tired. Almost always. Some of the tired comes from thinking in two languages. I grow weary from stressing about not being able to speak as well as I want, so that even on a day when I don't speak so much Romanian, I'm tired. And we spend a lot of time with people. While that's great and we enjoy it (and it's what we're here for), eventually we hit the bottom and say, "No mai pot!" (I can't do it anymore!) Our escape has become "vegging out" in front of a movie, which usually gives us some brain rest, but lately Ed and I have realized that our relationship requires more than that. So, we got creative.
Wednesday after the kids left for school we gathered blankets, a tiny camping stove, a tent, coffee, soup, and a loaf of bread, and headed to a quiet spot. We've discovered this little village, Holbov, in the middle of nowhere but only about 45 minutes from our house, that is absolutely beautiful! You drive through this dying village to a road that winds in between hillsides dotted with hay stacks. There is an occasional house on the hilltop. We wonder how they live like that. No electricity. No running water. No roads to their houses. As we were driving home that day, we met two girls walking home from school. They said it was a 1 1/2 hour walk. I asked, "There and back?" She said, "Oh, no. One way."
So,our neighbor owns some land there and said we were welcome to go whenever we want. Not sure whether he meant it or not. Romanians can be like Southern Americans telling you what you want to hear but not really meaning it. But we believed him and went. After hiking up this incredibly steep hill covered with hoar frost (a new word for me…the only other time I've heard of hoar is in the hymn, How Firm a Foundation where it says something about hoary hairs), we set up a tent, laid out a few blankets, and spent the morning walking, talking, reading, relaxing, and enjoying each other's company. For 5 hours the only sounds we heard were muffled cowbells ringing in the distance, the wind blowing through the trees, and only an occasional annoying dog barking. On this perfectly clear day that was unseasonably warm, I told Ed it was the nearest feeling to being at the beach I had known since we've been here. It's on days like this that we say with real pleasure, "I love MTW!"

Can you teach an old dog new tricks?

Sometimes I feel like an old dog. Ed often describes living in Romania like dog years. For every one human year, there are 7 dog years. That would make us 14 years older than when we left the US. So that's why I'm so tired! Another "side-effect" of life in Romania is that I can't remember. Our kids would say that was always true, and they're probably right, but I think it's gotten worse. I like to excuse my forgetfulness by the extra strain of living in between two languages and two cultures. However, having Ed's dad here for the last 10 days has made me realize that may not be a reasonable excuse. One, he's way older than I am. He's also lived half his life in this culture and half in America. (They were Saxon Germans living in Romania until they fled communism in 1964 with their kids--Ed was 4.) He speaks 5 languages pretty fluently and can use several more. And he remembers! Everything! Earlier this week we visited the place where he grew up. As we entered the town, he pointed out that so-and-so lived here. The mill was over there. They played in this creek. And then he said, "This house up here used to have children's faces above the windows." We all shook our heads in unbelief when we drove by and saw the stone cherubs fixed above each window. All week he's told stories of how his mother prepared her mamaliga (polenta, a Romanian staple); of what people wore when he lived here (often commenting, "I can't believe the girls are wearing jeans!"); of the bike he and his brother made out of scraps of wood (the only one in the village); of what it was like to train home on his free weekend from the labor camp where he spent over 3 years (which is actually not far from our house)...
So, I decided that if we didn't write these things down, his stories and our own, we'd surely forget them. This blogsite is an attempt to keep that from happening. Plus, some of the things that we experience are worth sharing.
I realize remembering doesn't really have anything to do with an old dog and new tricks, but we had a neighbor over a few nights ago and we were discussing whether they have that saying in Romanian. So, it was on my mind.