Countdown to Kindergarten

Two days before Kindergarten!

Glue?  Check.

  Glue sticks?  Check.

     Crayons (24)?  Check.

         Box of markers (10)?  Check.

            Box of McQueen Kleenex?  Check.

Eight dollars and fifty-five cents later we are on our way.

This boy knows how to stick to a list.

I love the smell of crayons, a stack of paper neat and clean, the sound of pencils being sharpened, a new, unmarked datebook full of possibilities.

And that's just it -- brand new school supplies mark a beginning as yet untouched, unmarked, and un-mussed.  

                 The choice of words I used may suggest that: maybe I like brand new school supplies because they have the possibility of perfection.

Yikes.  I've never considered that before, but it seems to hit the nail on the head.

Perfectionism is one of those long-standing values passed down through my family tree.  So that's a tough one to wrestle with for me.

But I'm working on it -- have been for years.

And it's working . . . .

       I'm re-learning to see the beauty in imperfection.  I can imagine the new possibilities of a fuzzy picture or a broken plate or a tattered page.  I can re-shape a mis-shape into something new.

And those things I don't have the power to make new . . . shattered dreams, mis-shapen bodies, bottomless grief . . . 

      

                      are held in the hands of the Mosiac-Maker . . . 

                                          Jesus.

A mosiac is countless times more breathtaking than something "whole" and perfect and untouched -- 

          because the wholeness doesn't come from a lack of marks or cracks or mess-ups . . . 

Wholeness is completeness . . . 

                    peace . . . 

                          fullness . . . 

                               rest . . . 

      in the One whom all things broken are made whole.

How's that for a Kindergarten lesson?

Tales from Montana -- Milkshakes

If the gift of family could be compared to the sweetness of a milkshake . . . 

then being friends with your family would be one of those milkshakes served in a fancy tall, curved glass, adorned with loads of fresh whipped cream, a round cookie-straw, and a cherry on top.  Oh yes, accompanied by that stainless-steel refill, ice-cold to the touch.  Maybe even sprinkles . . . well, of course sprinkles.

Yum.

Yup.  I'd say being friends with your family is that good.  Probably even better.

What a joy to take a trip to visit family . . . and end up visiting friends -- because they are one and the same.

I love that I'm good friends with my brother.  How cool is that?  I love that Melissa is one of my best friends.  Extra cool.   I love that we take the time to visit . . . and share . . . laugh . . . and talk . . . and best of all . . . 

 drink milkshakes . . . 

 under a sweet milkshake Montana sky.

Tales from Montana -- Brother Pastor

My brother Joel is now a pastor.  So that makes him Pastor Joel.  Or, for me, Brother Pastor.  (Or perhaps, Pastor Brother?)

He's new and fresh and barely out of the starting blocks.  I'm incredibly proud of him . . . and incredibly excited for the journey he and his wife, Melissa, are beginning.

Really he should be Pastor Brother times two.  He's serving two churches in two towns in beautiful north-central Montana.  

We got to see their new church homes:

Messiah Lutheran in Havre

The boys were playing "Pastor".  Hey!  Now there's three pastors!

Check out Blazer.  Nice.

Stained glass-ness.

Christ Lutheran in Big Sandy

Checking out the Christmas costumes.

Playing in Aunt Melissa's new preschool room.

Dead bat in the garbage can.  Double nice.

Church family tree

 Uncle Pastor with the boys

New Preschool Teacher Melissa & Pastor Uncle Brother

And so the journey begins --
   
       or more appropriately, continues.

Because we're always beginning new journeys . . . which string together . . . new into old . . . old into new . . . continuing the beautiful, messy journey called life.

Amen, brother!

Tales from Montana -- The Destination

The destination: Big Sandy, Montana

Population: 750

What do you do when you reach Big Sandy, Montana?

Well, we . . .

Cooked, 

ate, 

played pretend baseball with a pretend mitt and batt,

slept . . .

a lot, 

did tricks, 

sat on the front stoop,

played tag, 

and cooked some more.

A full-circle stay involving all the good things in life:

   Family

      Food

         Fun

            and Sleep.

I can almost call it home.

Tales from Montana -- The Journey

I've been listening to country music lately. First time in my life.

I blame Montana.


A week ago today we returned from our Montana trip.

The journey there was quite pleasant.  We took our time.  We stopped a lot.  We turned a 585 mile trip into a two-full-days journey.  Dash didn't throw up too many times.  And he has impeccable aim.  Really.  He always made it into his plastic red cup.

What else did we do?

Well . . .

We hung out with some Silver Valley mining families.

We drove miniature trains.

We danced.

We spent the night in a hotel.

We enjoyed the summer breeze in our hair.

We've heard it once, we've heard it a thousand times: It's not about the destination, it's about the journey.

Here's to slowing down . . . 

     enjoying the view . . .

          and letting the wind play with our hair.

The Run

As I tightened the black laces on my retired sneakers, I could feel it:  it was the evening for the perfect run.

      the warm summer air full and expectant  --
           a whisper-breeze light on my skin

My lungs:  squeezed and full

   My legs: strong and stretched

       My body in a place of physical happiness.

Photo by Hillary Kalmbach, Moses Lake

And then a feast for the eyes . . .

       Pink-grey clouds thick and churning in stillness . . .
                               
                                      a feather-soft heaviness in the sky

 suddenly . . . amazingly . . .

           flooded by gold       cracking through the cloud seams --
             
                    breaking through darkness
           
                            splitting the sky into golden shards of beauty.


The work of a master artist --  with impeccable timing -- in a grand show for those who dare to see.

Who dare to believe

Brilliance.

Popsicles for Two

Summertime . . . when the livin' is easy.

Summertime . . . when you can sit on the front stoop and eat popsicles wearing only underwear . . .



I remember years ago, as a new summer camp counselor, sharing stories of my faith journey with the other counselors.  When I closed my eyes and pictured Jesus, I always saw him sitting next to me on a porch swing, sipping lemonade.  There we were, Jesus and me, enjoying the comfortable silence of sharing a swing-built-for-two on a perfect summer afternoon.

That image has stayed with me -- comfortable, golden and smile-inducing.


Maybe next time we'll try some popsicles.

County Fair

 There's nothing like a family outing to the county fair.

Cows

Pigs

Snow Cones

Fire Trucks

Goats

and a million bales of straw.

It's a quaint, wholesome family affair . . .

                      like a step into another world . . .

                                              gently cupped in this world's hands.

Demo Derby

It's not a demo derby unless there's dirt in your teeth.

Could it be that the county fair demolition derby is one of the quintessential American events?

Country music, fireworks and red rope licorice.


Yup.  That's about right.