My Girls

As Thanksgiving approaches, I am already becoming consumed with the preparations.  Each year I ready the house to receive as many as 30 people, who come and leave at different times throughout the week.  I cook and bake ahead as much as possible, and I fret ahead of time over how my feet will hurt so at the end of that day.  But I also remain mindful each day leading up to the big day of all the many blessings in my life.  God is so incredibly good.

In thinking about all the preparations yet to be made this morning on my walk, I rounded the corner onto my street and envisioned all our family members pulling into the drive anticipating this most-loved holiday in our family.  I wondered about the other houses on my street.  Do they celebrate Thanksgiving?  Do they travel, or do they have family that comes?  Is theirs a peaceful weekend, or is there strife?  I pictured our houses without roofs, where the inside reality was visible to everyone.  I wished everyone could see and participate in the grace and support and love and true gratitude our family shows every year as we stand in our huge circle before the feast.  We pass the communion bread and cup and each tell what we are thankful for about the person standing to our right.  Sometimes we cry as we recall an especially difficult year for that person, and sometimes we laugh hysterically at a memorable moment.  We are always touched as the little ones take part and learn how to affirm each other and give thanks for our amazing family.

We aren't perfect, of course.  And we aren't always happy, or even nice, for that matter.  But we are close, and we love each other and we are doing the best we can.  So it's at this time of year that I begin to feel that warm swelling that rises up when we think of certain people.  I feel it at different times for different people, but I feel it for my immediate family ALL the time.  And especially for my girls.

I have loved, loved, loved being a mom, and now that my girls are moms, I can't sit them on my lap or braid their hair, or tuck them in at night.  (Thank God for memories!)  But I do love them now as friends.  Each of our friendships is different, just as our relationships were when they were growing up.  I have taken what I learned as we raised them and still apply it to our friendships today.  I know not to pry or ask too many questions to the one, and I actually remind myself not to talk so much at all.  Rather, I still just show up and listen, and eventually she will share what she wants to.  To the other I can give subtle suggestions, then allow her to grow them as her own, passing along full credit for even the hint of the idea.  And to yet another, I am most free to agree or disagree without ever giving a thought to any fatal damage, knowing we always come back around to meet again in the middle admiring the other's strength and ultimate wisdom.  

My girls are truly like three facets of myself, only in most perfect forms.  None of them are exactly like me, yet all of them have characteristics that are amazingly like me!  They are quiet, thoughtful, fun-loving, passionate, intense, wise, and creative.  They love God, and are raising their children to be kind, faithful and responsible.  They are much less legalistic than I was, and a million times more witty and wise.  They don't worry about the temporal and aren't the least bit shaken by what others think (usually).  They are funny beyond funny and caring beyond caring.  They are pragmatic and loyal and trustworthy, and they have a healthy respect for all things Southern (which pleases me to no end, as I wasn't born there, but got there as soon as I could!).  And finally, they each have given birth to seven of the most beautiful, intelligent and adorable angels that God has ever sent to earth.

So this Thanksgiving, I may not be standing next to any of my girls, but in my heart I will be most grateful to God for allowing me to mother three of the most amazing young women on the planet!
I love you, Shannah!
I love you, Jocelyn!
I love you, Lauren!
(Next post needs to be about my loveable hubby, huh?  ha.) 

Beyond Precious

Even though our grandkids all live within just a few minutes of us, we get to enjoy them overnight every now and then when their parents are out of town or have a late night planned.  Such was the occasion the night we kept Lauren's girls.  One of the highlights is always getting to hear all about what they are learning in school, even though the first answer is usually, "Uhh, I dunno." 

This night, however, Simone was very excited to recite her Bible verse for the week, because it happened to be the same one her big sister, Savannah, was also memorizing.  What made it so exciting for her was she had memorized not only the same verse, but the verse following, which of course made her much smarter then all the second graders.  Especially since she is only in Junior Kindergarten! 

I was thrilled when she proudly recited it for me to record, since Simone always has a mind of her own, and you never know when she'll cross her arms in resolute refusal, or when she'll be perfectly delighted to perform.  This time, she was perfectly delighted to perform.  So, may I present Miss Simone!

WORLD SERIES CHAMPS! PART 2

Tsk - tsk.  A week has gone by and no World Series Part 2 post until now.  I have been busy with a most awesome excuse, however.  Our friend, Izella, had her baby this week!  Izella found herself on our doorstep about nine years ago, new to America from Mexico, and moved into our hearts and our home.  She moved out after seven years, married two years ago, and had baby Juliana Sophia this week!  I have been busy being her stand-in Mom, and preparing my house for her sister and niece and nephew to come visit for two months!  They will stay with Izella and Dominic part of that time, but we are happy, happy to have them here again!  So that's my excuse, perhaps I will share more about them and the new baby later, but now on to the "Rest of the Story".


I began my last post by imagining being a 10 year-old boy in a World Series-winning city.  I could not have been more excited for the Cardinals to be in the World Series, so I couldn't guess who might be more excited than me... Grayson or his Papaw.  I told you about Doug's obsession with baseball, and he is obviously thrilled to have a grandson to pass his obsession on to, but mostly to share it with.  (He also has Xavier coming up through the ranks, but Xave's dad is also a baseball fan... the CUBS, of all things, so you can imagine the rivalry. Poor Xavier will be caught in the middle his whole life! ha)


I will shrink the World Series down to the final game (even though Game six was the one to remember!), and tell you that I was happy to go with Doug to the first game.  After that, I was hoping and praying that the series went to seven games, because I knew the plan was for Doug to take Gray to the final game if they made it that far.  Win or lose, Papaw and his little buddy would be there to witness baseball history. 


I pictured Gray in his 10 year-old mind seeing all things World Series bigger than they actually are, if that's possible.  Or maybe that's the awesome part... it would actually BE every bit as big as a 10 year-old could create it to be.  The players, the legends, the grass on the freshly-cut field, the crowds, the lights, the autumn night air, and of course, the hot dogs and pop, all boyhood wonder to be called forth night after night in his memory until Gray is an old man, and his Papaw a dear, faint memory. 


If you knew the relationship between Doug and Grayson you would get all of this.  This is more than just any 10 year-old boy's experience of the Cards going to the World Series.  And maybe even more than any 10 year-old boy's experience of getting to GO to the World Series. And quite possibly even more than any 10 year-old boy's experience of getting to go to the World Series with his Grandpa (although that's special, I don't care who you are).  This relationship is tight.  Doug and Gray revere each other.  Theirs is a bond so inseparable, so sweet.  When you know about this relationship, you know it was divine in the making; providential, and truly a gift from God.


Any little guy who finds himself without a father at the critical age of five is a lost little guy.  That's typically about the time boys really begin identifying with a male figure.  And Gray was the perfect little boy for a Daddy.  (see May 2009 post.)  He was inquisitive, loyal and tender-hearted.  And Doug, who had no sons, was beyond blessed to have his first granchild be a boy, Grayson Douglas.  Moreover, he got to live within five minutes of his little namesake who was now fatherless.  And so began this hand-in-glove thing between them that no one could come between.  More than once Doug held him when he melted down, as his ill-equipped, juvenile behavior tried to make sense of his loss.  He reinforced his mother's ettiquette lessons, and rough-housed with him on the living room floor.  He spent hours in our basement letting Gray ride his Harley Big Wheel tricycle around and around, and lovingly pretended the 100th round of "Speed the Road" was just as exciting as the very first time Gray created the game.  He celebrated with him the first ball he caught, and was there when he took off on his first real bike.  I have seen Doug weep over Gray, pray over him, discipline him, play with him, encourage him, wrestle with him, praise him, teach him, coach him, and laugh hysterically with him.  And now I was blessed to watch them share everything the game of Baseball represents to fathers and sons and grandfathers and grandsons all over this country.  I don't know who God's favorite team is (gasp!), but I do know that as He is the giver of all good things, He surely loves baseball, and at the very least, stood up with tears in his eyes, and cheered at the final game of this World Series 2011.  Not because of which team won, but because He is a God who lavishes on us blessings upon blessings (John 1:16), and He thought about and planned for this special relationship long before Gray needed a trustworthy man in his life and before Doug would try his hand at influencing a boy who would one day be a man. 


Of course Doug was also taking in how special it was for him to share that night with his best buddy.  He was taking in the moment when the last out was made, and the crowd went wild, and the fireworks were booming overhead, and the confetti was raining down all around them, and the players were in hopping heaps on the field, and no one was leaving the stadium.  Knowing how he would have felt as a boy, it was surely a time Doug could fully appreciate and ponder in his heart.  But evidently Gray was also fully appreciating and doing some pondering of his own.  As they were walking away from the stadium Gray looked up at Doug and said, "Hey Papaw, just think... you and me were here together for the first pitch Opening Day, and we were here tonight for the last pitch of the last game of the World Series."       
Baseball Buds forever.  Man, I love those guys.

WORLD SERIES CHAMPS!! Part One.

I need to back up a few days to the World Series celebrations here in St. Louis.  GO CARDS!  What a thrill for our grandson, AND his Papaw!  Let me just say that having no brothers or sons, I can only imagine what it would be like to be a 10-year old boy (who loves baseball!), growing up in a baseball town when your hometown team makes it to the World Series!  It's the stuff Mom and apple pie (and apparently Chevy trucks), are made of, so I hear.

I grew up in Cincinnati, and have fond memories of my dad sitting in a lawn chair in the backyard listening to the Reds' on the radio go long into the ninth inning.  I still know exactly how Marty Brennaman and Joe Nuxhall sounded announcing the play-by-play.  Their voices are burned in my memory as they brass through that distant AM radio white noise while the crack of the bat and the faint cheer of the crowd play the backdrop.  That's the sound of baseball to me.  Occasionally Woody Gleason, from across the street, would bring by a bucket of leftover chicken the nights he worked the closing shift at the new Kentucky Fried Chicken.  When we got to stay up late and eat chicken outside in our shortie pajamas while Dad listened to the game... that was summertime heaven.  So, while I had no brothers or sons, I sure have an appreciation for America's favorite past time.

Fast-forward years later when I dated a kid that lived three blocks from me who use to sit with his Dad on their front porch and listen to the same games on the same nights. The only difference was they ate fried bologna sandwiches while we were eating Woody Gleason's leftover chicken.  Doug grew up obsessed with the game, and went with his Dad as often as they could get the "company seats".  In fact, our first official date was to a Red's game at the brand new Riverfront Stadium. We sat in the blue section in those "company seats" of The Ohio Knife Company, where his dad was an executive, and that, my friends, was a BIG deal!   By the time we married, baseball was as much a part of who we were as our own DNA. 

In our newlywed years Doug and his college roommates were hooked on this baseball boardgame where they managed their teams for hours while I was employed as non-paid "ground crew", which basically meant I was the concession stand (and eventual babysitter!).  I did, however, learn who all the old valuable players were.  Of course I had heard of Babe Ruth, Dizzy Dean and Hank Aaron, but I also became quite familiar with guys like Honus Wagoner, Ernie Banks, Tris Speaker, Carl Hubbell and Rogers Hornsby.  They practically shared our little one bedroom married student apartment on Hart Street in Nashville, Tennessee, and moved with us to our next 2 places. 

The next 15 years, or so, of our marriage I lost my husband once a year to a week-long pilgrimage with his "buds" to see every National League team play in a week... no trite scheduling talent.  Later, the tradition morphed into a quest to see every MLB stadium in the country.  In addition to the yearly baseball treks, they also practically started the Fantasy Baseball craze. Our phone rang all hours of the day and night during the trading season, and this was before cell phones.  More than once passers-by did double takes to see if they were in the presence of somebody important when hearing strange and spirited conversations over a restaurant table.  "No way.  I'm keeping Nolan Ryan, but I might be willing to let Enos Cabell go for two outfielders.  The team could use a couple o' good outfielders, and you're sittin' there with more money than you know what to do with!"  More talk of rookies, protected players and trade deadlines had everyone within earshot listening. 

Such talk continued and became even more lively when the draft rolled around.  The draft was held every fall at a chalet in Gatlinburg, and conveniently for the married men, wives were cordially invited.  We bailed on being ground crew by this point, however, and opted instead for hours of mountain craft shopping, as the draft drug on round after round after round. 

So, for being a non-athletic girly-girl, I'm surprised how much baseball is in my blood (and my marriage.)   By the way, I bought those four "company seats" for Doug when they closed Riverfront in 2002, and they're in our basement today, symbols of the the love of the game. 

A Moving Walk for Cancer

This past weekend was a fast, fun and emotional few days for our family.  Some of the girl cousins decided the females in our family should all walk in the Making Strides Against Breast Cancer Walk in St Louis.  We made shirts and plans, and the Cincinnati gals caravanned over Friday night.  We met at Starbucks at 6:45am the morning of the walk and headed over to Forest Park to join thousands of other participants who had all donated their money, time and bodies to help wipe out cancer.


Cancer is a formidable opponent.  I lost one sister to cancer, and am SO grateful another sister is now cancer-free after a hugely courageous battle.  I felt so proud of her when all of us walked through the finish line arm-in-arm, symbolic of her own finish line just weeks before.  It was bittersweet to be sad and angry that she had to go through the shock, fear, surgery, chemo, radiation, pain, more fear, anger, and eventual submission and resolve, but at the same time, I felt happy that she made it through and at least had the chance to fight it.  Gloria never had that chance. 


Walking up the final hill with Janet was one of the most special sister memories for me.  She tried her best to tell me about her new perspective on life and what it felt like to have had so much support by so many people throughout her journey this past year.  We both knew I couldn't fully appreciate exactly how she was feeling, and that made me sad too.  For me, one of the very best things about having sisters is that deep understanding that they get you.  Whether you're crabbing about your husband, your kids, the IRS or the lines at Walmart, or telling about a deeply spiritual experience you've had, or just describing the sunset, you know that your sister is really listening and gets what you're saying at the same deep place of practically being there herself... like another version of yourself to share it with.  Exponential empathy.  Some times you just need someone to verify you. 

And in that moment on that hill, here she was, my little sister, my forever sidekick, the one who always waited for me to pave the way, to go first, to make it safe for her.. here she was telling me about the hardest, most scary and painful part of her life, and I couldn't fully get her.  I couldn't be at that same deep place of practically being there myself.  I couldn't verify her.  I could only be honored that she dared to speak of it with me.  And we cried.

And later that day when she took off her hat and I saw her six-month old hair growing in again at 54, I had one of those moments when life stops and everything freezes except your thoughts.  And I took it all in.  I went back to all of our growing up years, our college years, our mothering years, and now our grandmothering years.  I went back to so many laughs, and the blissful, contented hours we spend each year on our boat watching the sunset or rocking to the oldies at the beach house.  I took in once more her silent strength and her backstage wit she seems to have passed on to my middle daughter.  And I thought of all the ages and stages that have been her, that were all together present in her during her struggle with cancer.  And I was thankful she had the chance to have the new perspective she spoke of.  And I was grateful for her gratitude.  And I was mindful she, for once, had paved the way for me.. she had gone first and made it safe for me.  And I am certain that someday if I need her, she will verify me. 
I love you, Sis.  You are a hero to me.   

The Perfect Patch

Last weekend I had the first "Sunday dinner at Gigi's" in way too long. It felt good to return to one of my favorite things, and it was actually quite tasty (except for carving the pork roast a tad too early which made it a little dry by the time we ate - boo). The next day I offered the leftovers to Shannah for their dinner but forgot to include the rolls, rendering it not so much a full meal deal. So of course I delivered said rolls, whereupon I found out Berkley had gone home with Savannah after school. This conveniently allowed Grayson to plea bargain for getting out of the house himself and going out with me for dinner.


On the way he showed me where his "favorite" jeans had split at the knees and were now tattered and frayed... just the way boys like them. The school dress code mandates other ideas, however, which his teacher reminded him of earlier that day. So naturally I did what any good grandmother would do. I promptly made an illegal u-turn and whipped into the local fabric store, knowing I had just enough time to save this poor child and his favorite jeans from the wrath of a too-strict dress code, an out-of-touch teacher and a glaring-eyed principle. (Boys can be dramatic, too.) Our quiet dinner out was reduced to driving through Arby's, and patching the jeans now became the ultimate goal.


Now it's not often a 10 year old boy likes to go to the fabric store, but this is the second or third time I've had Gray in one, and his creative little self actually likes it! The last time we were there we bought NFL Colts fabric to make him a shirt for some crazy fun day for spirit week at his school. I will tell you he had a million and one ideas of how this simple jersey should be designed. We had cottons and quilteds and nylons and prints and solids and all kinds of goodies at the cutting table. So of course, finding just the right denim for knee patches would be equally thrilling. We settled on the perfect color and weight denim, but would also back it with a padding for strength. His idea, of course!


The patching went off without a hitch. We decided on patching from underneath to leave the cool factor of the frayed split on the outside. This led to a discussion of whether this would meet the expected standard of the dress code, the old "intent of the law" discussion. Was it the actual split with knees showing they objected to, or the raggedy fray? It mattered because we were leaving the raggedy fray (though we did clip off the best part of any denim frayness - the uber cool white strings.) I wanted to be a hip Grandma, but I sure didn't want to get the kid in trouble! During the discussion he showed his too-old-for-his-age sense of humor (which he inherited from his Mother and his Papaw), when he regretted not thinking to buy skin-colored fabric to patch underneath the split. Hilarious. Risky, but hilarious.


It was a cherished one-on-one evening just patching his favorite jeans, eating Arby's (I told him it would be broccoli next time), and pouring what love I could into my favorite fourth-grader's heart. I also got him home an hour early, and left him with one final teachable moment about building curfew trust with his parents for those future requests to party with his high-school buddies. You know, those Bible Study parties. Love that boy!

So, Here's the Thing, We're non-Begging Beggars

Thanks to all of you who have shared your stories of how you found Joy after a difficult season in your life. Keep sending them in; I love hearing them, and there is plenty of room for more!

Here's one of the things I and my walking buddy have been talking about recently.  See if you agree.  I mentioned in my blog while I was in India that what always strikes me when I'm there is how completely desperate the women there are for God.  When they ask you to pray for them, they prize those prayers as if they were the highest payment, the most valuable gem in the world.  When they pray together (something we often feel uncomfortable doing here, or at least don't typically practice regularly), there it sounds like stepping out of a soundproof booth into a sports arena.  It's deafening. 

We aren't desperate for God here.  We barely need him.  At least we act like we don't.  We certainly aren't without struggles, though.  We all face them.  Our lives seem to be about trying to get through the latest turmoil or trying to get ahead financially.  "If I can just hang in there until this is over, then I can rest."  Or "If we can make it til the end of the year bonus, we can pay off these debts."  But we always want more.  We're seldom satisfied.  Enough is never enough.  Too much is not even enough!  We aren't always the happiest people around either.  We are depressed, overworked, exhausted, angry whiners and complainers.  I mean we cover it well, of course.  We don't want people to KNOW we're depressed, angry whiners and complainers.  (Being overworked and exhausted seems to be OK for people to know.)  And we do pray about these things.  We go to therapy or a financial counselor.  We read books and go to Bible Studies and seminars.  And sometimes we find some help.  Mostly though, it seems we find new ways to cope.  New strategies to try.  New ways of looking at things.  And therapy can be good!  Financial counseling can be good!  Bible Studies and seminars and books can be good!  We actually need all the help we can get, right?

I am a trained as a Christian Counselor and I believe strongly in emotional and mental health, and I know that God uses many means for our help and healing. Absolutely He uses therapy and books and seminars and His word and nature and conversations with friends, and a host of other ways to speak to us and guide us. But why aren't there more endings to problems? Why aren't there more people being set free? Why aren't we experiencing more real and lasting change? Where in my life does God desire more for me than for me to just "feeling my feelings" when I am troubled and I automatically turn to other means of coping?

So here's the thing.  If the God we serve is the Healer and the Counselor, why do we continue to stay more wrapped up in our problems and our sicknesses than we are about what HE wants for our lives?  Or put another way; Where is the healing?  Where is the help?  Addictions are growing at a faster rate, affecting a greater and more diverse cross-section of our world than ever before.  More marriages are breaking up than ever before.  More children are left to bear the scars into adulthood of their unstable families of origin than ever before.  And we are Christians!  Where is God in our lives?  Where is His changing power?  How is He making a difference?  How are our lives any different than those who don't profess a relationship with God? 

I like the phrase "Christians aren't perfect, just forgiven."  It's so true.  We certainly are far from perfect.  But it can also be a cop-out that means, don't judge me me, don't hold me to any standard, don't watch my life, don't expect anything from me.   So my new favorite phrase is "Beggars showing other beggars where to find Bread" (differing opinions on sourcing that one,  often incorrectly attributed to Martin Luther, possibly D.T. Niles; so I'm going with Anonymous.) 

I love that I came to a place where I realized, although I was raised with an unspoken "Us" vs. "Them" mentality, that we are ALL "Them"!  We are all beggars!  We are all hopelessly lost in our sins, our struggles, our addictions, our pride, and ourselves, really.  Of course I have capitalized the B in 'Bread' to mean the Living Christ, the Bread of Life, the only true nourishment for our souls and our lives and our problems.  The only One out there who can actually SAVE us from ourselves and our messed up ways.  And I have changed the 'telling' to 'showing', because I like the idea of walking alongside someone and bringing them to the One who is the answer for all their problems.  I am, after all, a counselor, who should be walking alongside, not merely telling.  "Beggars showing other beggars where to find Bread".  Awesome.

But even with that being my favorite phrase and something to aspire to, it doesn't seem we are as desperate as beggars.  It doesn't seem the Bread is really filling and really nourishing us when we do find it.  Perhaps it is difficult for me to see it since I, and many of my friends, have been raised in the church, and our lives haven't been dramatically changed.  I've loved Jesus for as long as I can remember.  But shouldn't that be all the more reason to know how desperate I am for him?  How desperate my life would be without Him?  Wouldn't I be a pro by now at having Him help me with my struggles?  Shouldn't there BE a difference in my life? 



So I have begun praying for God to show me where I am desperate for Him.  "Where do I need you most, God, and don't even know it?"  Where is it that my soul hungers and thirsts for you?"  "Where am I filling myself with busyness or pride or folly or food or apathy instead of coming to you and letting you fill me?" 

I'll let you know what He says.  Maybe.

 

Are you a Success Story?

I'm wondering how many of you out there consider yourselves success stories?  I know it's hard to give ourselves so much credit sometimes, but I know many of you have really suffered through some tough things in life, and come out a better person because of it, and I'm interested in your story.  Perhaps you've been through a divorce, have navigated life as a single mom, suffered through a spouse's infidelity, experienced the heartache of infertility, lost a spouse or a child, struggled with an addiction, lived through cancer, managed a long-term illness or physical challenge, or even been a caretaker for someone else who has struggled through a lengthy, difficult situation.

I'm writing a book on what it takes to put the joy back into our lives after such long, stressful chapters of our lives seem to change who we are and rob of us joy.  Did you find yourself pulling back from people and activities that once were an important part of your life?  Did you find that your confidence dipped and caused you to avoid involving yourself in areas you formerly felt so competent?  Did you stop singing or dancing or painting or enjoying some other creative outlet just because the joy was gone and there was really no point?  If any of these sound familiar to you, I'd love to know exactly how you made the decision to change.  What made you decide not to settle for the dull, lifeless existence that had become this new you?  How did you manage to open yourself back up again, and how did you go about doing that?  What steps did you take to bring the joy back?

If you are willing to take a few minutes and share the answers to these questions, please leave a comment on the blog, or email me at pfrenchmo@gmail.com.  If I use any of your experiences, your name will not be used, and the details of your story will be changed, unless you give permission for your first name to be included.  Feel free to share this with anyone you think may also have an idea of how to bring back the joy trauma and difficulty have stolen from their lives.

Thanks!  I look forward to hearing from you!

Indian Recovery

It has been almost a week since I returned from India, and I actually miss many things about being there. Of course, I actually do not miss many other things (long, uncomfortable van rides and squatty potties!), but I always leave a part of my heart there. It feels strange to be so blessed with a soft, clean mattress and limitless drinkable water. I am tempted to ask why I have it "so good", but am reminded about the missionary who asked that question, only to sense God reply, "Who are you to decide what is good and what is not good?" Truly, the Christians that I met in India are happy, happy people... happier than many Christians I know here; myself included at times. That being said, there still remains much work to do to level the playing field regarding basic human rights.... clean water, adequate nutrition, basic education, access to simple medicines and disease prevention, and a way to earn a living. In my humble opinion, of course.

I am finally rested, and on the local time zone, but tomorrow I leave for Nashville, TN to attend the AACC conference for the rest of the week. I always look forward to filling up professionally, even though I am still trying to decide what to be when I grow up. I love to learn and grow.

Although this post is short, I hope to be continue waxing elephants from time to time, in case anyone out there is listening. I'll let you know how the conference goes!

Homeward Bound!

HOMEWARD BOUND!

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA!!! We are in Newark and almost home!!

There has been LOTS of travel drama. Allow me to just go through the list;

1. Unbeknownst to just about every international traveler leaving Delhi, they had changed the regulations to allow only one piece of checked baggage and one carry-on. Every one of us (and every other female traveler!), had 2 of each. The weird thing was that 2 of us got agents who didn't seem to care and checked us through without a word, but everyone else had to repack, rearrange and pay a lot of money. There were suitcases opened, clothes flying and women bitching all over the ticket area, pardon my French (not us of course, we still had "the annoiting". Ha... It was quite a sight and quite the delay.

2. For some reason Continental had Vicki booked to Miami, which may have been a nice trip but after 2 weeks in a third-world country, Casper, Wyoming was the ONLY placae she wanted to go. Finally they got heer headed to the right place, but they refused to check her bags any further than Newark! Really ??! So, more delays.

3. Finally now with no more time to spare, we headed to Security which went without a hitch until the last person, ME. One of the gifts I had been carrying in my carry-on all over on our flights throughout India (and left in there to lighten my checked bag weight), was evidently now being considered a weapon, because part of it had metal on it. If you've ever bought souvenirs abrouad, it's not easy to find just the right thing for people, and I did NOT want to leave this item there and have something for 2 daughters, and nothing for one. After practically getting the Indian embassy involved, they decided I could gate check the bag, but that requires me leaving the item, going to get a gate agent four miles away at our gate, finding someone who was not talking to friends on a cell phone, begging them to come back to security with me, running four miles back to security, waiting, waiting, sweating, sweating, listening, translating, and begging in my best foreign-traveler non-verbal communication. Permit me to draw up the image in your mind. It begins with meek and pleasant smiles, and runs the gamet through raised eyebrows, shaking head NO, shaking head yes, palms-up (what's the big deal?), more assertive shaking head NO, raising eyebrows while tilting head toward gate agent (deferring to whom I hope is my advocate), palms down assertively on security desk, finger shaking side-to-side with more assertive NOs, folding hands with fingers interlaced (please, please) which FINALLY wore him down), and ended with hands folded prayer style at forehead (typical Indian thank you), and a slight but ever-so-meaningful head bobble to finish the transaction! THEN- grab bags, and run with gate agent 4 miles back to plane, slide into seat dripping sweat on my seatmate, just in time for take-off. Who cares? I'm going HOME!!! (and Shannah, I hope you like your gift!!) Ha.

4. Shortly before landing, Vicki became quite ill again and by the time we touched down, she had thrown up several times and needed a wheel chair to even get off the plane, which for some reason took an act of congress. Then because several of us claimed cookies as "food" on our customs forms, we were detained for Agriculture! BUT since Vicki was so sick, they put us to the front of the line. Finally, we all got to zoom to Vicki's gate on one of those "Scuse me" cars.

5. I left to find a place to wash up (my family will thank me!), and happened upon a couple in distress. The man was chocking, the woman going hysterical, so I helped with the heimlich (a guy trying it was using one hand!?), and helped calm the woman down after he bagan breathing, pale and blue as he was. I was actually glad to see he was pale and blue (after he was OK), because for a sick moment the thought crossed my mind that this could be a diversion while someone grabbed my wallet and passport from my bag I tossed aside in the rush to help. Alas, all was well.

6. We parted ways and said our goodbyes only to get TO THE DOOR of my plane and be turned back indefinitely because... Wait for it...

There was no pilot for my flight and no replacement to be found. Not sure how this happens (Did he forget to check the schedule in the break room?), but at least they were honest and up front with it. While a plane full of passengers angrily migrated over to customer service, I raced to the airline club where they were more than happy to save a seat for me on a later flight just in case. So I was able to go back to the other gate just in time to say another goodbye to Vicki (who had thankfully recovered like watering a thirsty plant). It wasn't long after that a merciful pilot agreed to come in on his day off and drive us to St. Louis. So the rest of us walked back over to my gate, said a final goodbye, and I got on the plane. I'm trusting Belinda, RaeAnn and Dana's flight went off without a hitch, and we'll all be back in our respective homes getting Welcome Home hugs and kisses from our dear, sweet husbands who supported us and loved us across the miles. It was a glorious, amazing, challenging trip. We went there to touch and encourage and help change women from another place and another culture, and we were the ones touched and encouraged and changed. Women do that for each other.

Thanks for reading and going with us on this journey!

Now to him who is able to keep you from stumbling and to present you blameless before the presence of His glory with great joy, to the only God, our Savior, through Jesus Christ our Lord, be glory, majesty, dominion, and authority, before all time and now and forever. Amen. (Jude 24-25)

Goodbye from India

This is why we do what we do. Beautiful women of India;

Deserving of so much more. Thank you for joining our efforts!

God bless you!

Update on our LONG day

Update on our LONG day

We got to our rooms in Delhi, had midnight dinner, went to bed at 3-ish after packing for our long flight home, got up after 10 minutes (ha), and left hotel at 6:00 for the Taj Mahal.

Just so you can fully appreciate the travel in India, get this-- Mapquest shows the distance from Delhi to Agra as 215 kilometers (133 miles) and 2 hours, 37 minutes with traffic. We left Delhi at 6:00am and arrived at noon! That's right, boys and girls, SIX HOURS! And what a ride it was!

However... The Taj Mahal was completely worth the trip! Beautiful and amazing. To think all the marble was hand-chiseled and such a structure was built in the 1600's is truly hard to believe. It took 22 years to build and consists of additional buildings, (a mosque and surrounding overnight accommodations plus north, south, east, and west gates forming a square to complete the structure.). The Taj Mahal was build by the Mughal Emporer Shah Jahan as a memorial to his late wife, Mumtaz Mahal. Wow, what a guy! (of course, my gentlemen readers are likely saying, "Wow, what a wife!" Touche'. Wondering what she did to deserve that! Ha.

We had exactly 15 minutes inside the Taj. Now on one hand, that's really all you need to see the two ornately carved coffins of the Emporer and his beloved wife, but on the other hand, 15 minutes is pushing it, since the only single door in, is also the only single door out! That's what is so puzzling about the Indian people...They can build things like the Taj and have hands down the best airlines around, but they can't figure out the essentials like trash and sewers and roads (and traffic, for that matter.). Still it's such a compelling place with magnetic people.

The tour guide we had for the day, (name unknown, now that I think of it!), was awesome to keep us on schedule and he took us to the most amazing shop we've been in the whole trip for Taj souvenirs and our last India shopping. The merchandise in this place was incredible, and I actually bit the bullet and bought a couple (really) nice things for myself! (Sorry, honey!) The first was this small gorgeous jeweled rug which I justified by telling myself I should have something in my office to remind me of my travels here. The second was basically unjustified and was a result of the best salesman in the world meets easiest target in the world.... American pushover woman with poor boundaries and a slight uncertainty/ fear of small Indian men with glasses and brightly orange dyed hair. I'm not gonna lie; he seemed harmless, but that hair was scary. I was afraid to say no. Notice I'm not saying what the purchase was. It's too shameful. Ha.

After our power sightseeing/ shopping trip, we drug ourselves back on the van for the 6 hour ride back to Delhi. Did I mention that it was a thousand degrees at the Taj and we left the hotel at 6am and would be going straight to the airport for our 16 hour flight home? At one point RaeAnn calculated we would be in our clothes for 44 hours. OH MY GOSH, WE WREAK!! Between non-stop sweat, curry coming out our pours and this stupid putrid henna, we can't STAND ourselves!! So, we're all crammed in together again and at least there were a lot of interesting things to see on the journey. It was truly the making of a children's book (note to self) because "On the road to Agra", these are the animals we saw:

Water buffalo

Regular bulls

Brahma bulls

Goats

Cows

Oxen

Camels

Elephants

Monkeys

Horses

Dogs

Black horn Sheep

and Pigs (hugh wild black ones and cute little pink ones!)

It's really impossible to convey how maddening it is to be waiting with your camera n the ON position for a long stretch of the trip and be constantly aware of your battery life. So as soon (and I do mean the very second!) as you turn off your camera, you pass the most incredible sights!! It became standard to hear, "Anybody get that?!", only to hear groans of frustration and lamenting over this very issue. I was finally able to capture a few of these shots when I decided to forget worrying about my battery and just go for it. It finally paid off.

So, here we are, headed back to the Delhi airport, back to the states, and back HOME!

Before I close this post, I do want to Praise the Lord or His evident protection over all of our travels here in India. If you could only see the road conditions and experience the drivers here, you would agree it is nothing less than miraculous that I have been here 3 times now and safely covered the territory I've covered in the vehicles I've been in all without a seatbelt. Thank you, Jesus, YOU ROCK!

I also want to thank my family and friends for all of the cards you sent for me to open daily. I know I was only gone two weeks, but when you're on the other side of the earth and NOTHING is familiar, it is the nicest thing to open a card and read that you are special to someone a world away. The grandkids' pictures and hand-spelled notes were precious, and all the encouraging words from everyone else got me through. Lauren, your card made me cry. My biggest cheerleaders are my girls. I only hope to still become what you already think I am. A special thank you again to the women who sent money with me for Women With A Mission, and for you all who prayed us through every day. That truly was our strength and peace so many times.

Finally, I have to say to others who may be reading this blog that these women I am traveling with are four of the most fun, most compatible, most spirit-filled women I have ever met. I'm sure their family members are proud of them. Spoil them when they get home- they deserve it!!

Over and out.

Look where we are!!!

Taj Mahal

Real live Water Buffalo Crossing!

Brahma Bull (super holy cow!)

gods along the highway

Monkey Business

What country are we in?

Woo-Hoo! We made it to the Delhi airport!

On the way home!

Home Stretch

We're on the home stretch! YAY! We landed safely in Dehli tonight and we're at the hotel Singh Sans having a late late late dinner at 12:30am. We haven't eaten since lunch was served after the conference today at noon, so we're a tad famished. We have to leave the hotel at 6:00am to get BACK IN A VAN to travel 5 more hours to Agra to see the Taj Mahal. I suppose we'll hop out of the van, take a picture an d hop back in to drive back to make our flight home tomorrow night. The good news is we get to see the Taj Mahal and we have a flight HOME tomorrow night!!! Can you tell I'm excited to come home?

We are officially tourists now, as we left Prati at the Mumbai airport after the leadership training session of the conference. Of the almost 300 women who came to the conference (staying together in the hotel just like we do!), about 40 of the WWM leaders stayed for today's session.

Prati opened today's session with a long charge to her sisters about servant leadership, and again her vulnerability was really touching.

The rest of the session was more speaking and having them write and pray over what gifts/ strengths they have as leaders and what personal weaknesses might hinder their leadership.

The women had time to share and ask questions, and were so appreciative of our time with them.

The rest of the day was travel, travel, and more travel; speeding back down that mountain we chugged up only two days before and hustling airport security lines and fighting (and paying!), to take the extra luggagewe brought back home! Go figure. The Mumbai airport was on high security alert and the morning news papers said they were cracking down on anything more than one carry-on and one checked piece of baggage. Of course we all have more baggage than that! Who doesn't? Ha.

We are spent but still trucking. Really looking forward to a 5 hour van ride tomorrow at 6am! Woo-hoo!

Another Sari day (this time WITH RaeAnn!)

Leadership training

Down the beautiful mountain

GOODBYE, Prati, we will MISS YOU!!

The children sing for us

Last Full Conference Day!

Last full Conference day!

Today was another long conference day, but not as long as last night! At dinner last night, Prati gave us new directives for our sessions, so that what we were saying was closer to the conference theme. To say that put some of the team in a panic at that late hour (9:30pm!), after an already long day, is an understatement.

Most of us got a few hours sleep, but we can sleep on the plane in a few day

s, right? There sure doesn't seem to be any time for sleep until then!

Of course it all worked together for good (of course it did!), because what began as panic produced great results today, and many good lessons were learned. (Those will be made known on the palne as well, I'm sure!) Ha.

I had the first session today and spoke on a plan for living out God's mission here on earth from Jude 20-23. Interesting how that teaching came to be; in my daily cards, my Mom simply sent me the scripture from Jude 2, that says, "Mercy, peace and love be yours in abundance.". I decided on one of our long van rides to read that scripture and continued on reading the rest of the book, and this teaching jumped

off the pages! So, thanks, Mom, for encouraging me with that beautiful verse. You just brought an awesome message to the women of India! Isn't God amazing?!

There are always tea breaks at the conferences (and in these women's daily lives), so after the tea break, we were blessed with 2 songs from the Children from one of the Children's homes here in Maharashtra. If you know me, you know my hea

rt for children. I've always said one of my favorite sounds in all God's earth is the sound of children singing. My heart completely melted during their little song about the devil having to run away because Jesus lives in their hearts. PRECIOUS! (Janet, didn't we sing a song like that on Miles Rd when we were little? We didn't have bongos.)

After the children sang, RaeAnn touched the women's hearts by meeting them where we all are tender- our relationships with our children. She told how she used to be an angry, bitter mom until God came into her heart and she allowed Him and the Fruit of the spirit (patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control), to change her life. The women all related and loved her vulnerability. (She also gave a shout out to Breakthrough, so Paul and Susanna, your ministry has gone international!)

Before lunch, Vicki taught on being an ambassador for God's mission here on earth

by being His hands and feet, meeting the needs around us. Vicki is the Missions director for her church in Casper, Wyoming. It is clear they have the right woman for the job! She has such a gentle strength and huge compassionate heart.

Prati always sprinkles her words between sessions, which she did again today tying everything together for the women, and probably smoothing over our mistakes! We wouldn't know; we haven't a clue what she's saying but it's always powerful.

Lunch was brought in for us at the conference center, and was a typical Indian lunch; "pickled" vegetables, bread, white rice with curry sauce and a banana. We were sooo grateful they brought us spoons. They always eat with their fingers (scooping rice is an art), and usually we do too, but it was nice to have a utensil.

After lunch we heard wonderful stories from several women leaders reporting what God is doing in their villages through WWM. These women are being mobiliz

ed and are reaching other women for Christ, and their lives and families are being transformed. God cares about the welfare of the people of India and He is using the women here to better their lives and redeem their souls.

Dana continued the afternoon sharing with the women the story of how God made it clear she was to go to India. She encouraged the women to trust God and allow Him to do amazing things in their lives.

Belinda spoke with passion about the importance of keeping our relationships intact, about restoration and reconciliation. Women get that no matter where we live. We're all about our relationships! Her words were powerful, but it was quite comical when she actually stopped and waited for the pastor translating for her to translate her words, "Oh Belinda!". So she waited and he finally shrugged his shoulders and

turned around toward us and said, "Oh, Belinda!". The whole place cracked up!

Prati ended the conference with a very moving and thought-provoking message to the women from Acts where Peter has the vision of the sheet being lowered from the four corners of the world with clean and unclean animals on it. The message from God was that nothing that God has created is unclean. She passed out large white handkerchieves and asked the women to write names of people they avoid helping or ministering to because they are a lower cast and are considered undesirable. She is brave to speak out against the wrongs in her own culture, and

openly mentioned the inconsistency between casts and Christianity several times in

these conferences. The women responded with tender hearts toward other women who are marginalized in this society. I can't explain the deep heart probing in me from seeing firsthand the reality of some people being made to feel less than. Of course I was tempted to self-righteously think at least our country doesn't have that problem, but my heart sunk when I admitted, yes... we do. The final blow came when I had to confess that as much as my justice meter goes crazy when someone is counted of less value for any reason, there are times in my life when I avoid

ed or failed to reach out to someone else just because they weren't like me and I couldn't be inconvenienced. My heart was broken at the real life picture of this right in front of me and all the implications and consequences. Humans can truly be base.

After the conference the shopping ministry was needing some attention briefly, and then.... and then.... Yes, we all got Henna tatoos!! One of the pastors wives here (she's totally an Indian Christy Todd (Winsinger- sorry!), offered to do them for us. She is a nurse (BSN) at the mental hospital here in Nashik, and we teased her if her job ever fell through she could always fall back on Henna! Of course none of us realized we couldn't do anything until they were completely dry, so packing to leave early in the morning was a problem. Vicki and I were up til 3:15 last night and it's

2:08 now, so maybe we won't mind that 6 hour van ride back to Mumbai tomorrow afterall. Bite my tongue.

Tomorrow is a half-day leadership training conference for the leaders and directors of the Maharashtra state. The rest of the women have gone home. They were completely precious, and each of us has unbelievable stories about specific women we met.

Off to peel this Henna off and see the finished product!! (No, Mom, it's not permanent.) :)

Sign at Hindu conference center.

Good to know Big Macs are up there with Beer and Alcohol!

I'm first for the day

RaeAnn shares

Vicki's turn

Prati speaks to her sisters

Where the women eat

Our lunch is served

Dana gets the afternoon session

Belinda's heart comes through

The women share their "Unclean" lists

Hennapalooza!! (thanks for the title, Vicki!)