Ireland-bound

Another day in London almost gone.  How time has flown.  Today we Tubed-it to the Tower of London to hang out with Beefeaters and ogle the Crown Jewels.  If any of y'all are thinking of coming here for such a sightseeing trip, take the advice of our pal Rick Steves and head directly for the Crown Jewels first.  We got right in, but 2 hours later, the line was hours long.  I'm quite sure that even the Bedazzler-addicted have never seen quite so much sparkly bling as is housed in that place.  We took the tour with our appointed Beefeater, which was bloody, funny, and entertaining for adults. Scarlett wasn't a fan of standing still in a mob of 200 people, and Sierra kept saying, "Tell my WHY you think this is funny."  No, beheadings are not particularly humorous, but the way that he told the stories of those who lost their heads, often was.  The moral of the story - don't cross a medieval king of England.  Period.

After a quick stop to see Big Ben, the Houses of Parliament, and Westminster Abbey closer-up (from the outside), we returned to our hotel to repack our things and to catch a bus north.  Tomorrow morning, about the time y'all are going to bed, we'll be waking up to get on a plane bound for Cork, Ireland.  Since we're flying out of a smaller, more remote airport, we opted to stay overnight nearer to the airport.  Won't make 3:15 a.m feel much better, but it will reduce our travel anxieties a bit.

Erik and I went to Ireland about 11 years ago.  I think it's still the favorite place we've ever been.  It's just so green and lovely and peaceful.  We're hanging around the Irish countryside, avoiding the hustle and bustle of the big cities, because that's what we've found to be the most refreshing.  We'll watch Erik get acclimated to driving on the wrong side of the road (and car) again, we'll see lots of sheep, and we'll just breathe in the beauty of SW Ireland.  It'll be an entirely different trip with our daughters along, but I feel certain that they'll enjoy more space to run and play.  And Sierra needs to practice her Irish accent, since she feels she's mastered her British accent.  :)

As an aside - the other day, Sierra turned on some BBC station, and The Smurfs were on.  She watched the show for at least 5 minutes, and when I said, "Are you really watching The Smurfs in German?" she said, "No.  I don't think so.  Wait...well, maybe."  I'll just chalk it up to being tired.  Or maybe she innately understands Deutsch.

I'm so looking forward to being in the country where our souls have felt at rest before, with 2 kids who might not give us rest, but they do give us joy.

Top 10 Random Thoughts on Great Britain

- I can't look at one of the trademark London red phone booths without getting Maroon 5's "Phone Booth" stuck in my head.  Thanks, Adam Levine.

- I love that baked potatoes in Great Britain are called "jacket potatoes."  

- I'm thankful that many street corners have the words, "Look Left" or "Look Right" painted on the pavement.  Foreign pedestrians like ourselves need all the help we can get, trying to figure out from which direction crazy drivers may potentially maim us.

- I simply cannot hear a Scottish accent without immediately saying, "There is a piper down!" (in a Scottish accent and under my breath, of course)

- I get that fries are called "chips" and that chips are called "crisps," but I'm sorry, I still like ketchup with my chips/fries, even if it makes me look like a tacky American with no culinary sophistication. 

- While on the subject of dining out, I don't quite understand why it's more expensive to "Eat in" than to "Take away."  Are we that much of a nuisance sitting in their restaurants, as opposed to taking food out?  Even fruit at cafes is marked up if you plan to eat it there.  Perhaps it compensates for a lower expectation of tipping.

- I also don't understand why it's necessary to flash the yellow light along with the red light to alert drivers that the stoplight is about to turn green.  Perhaps Americans are better at anticipating the green (by going several feet into the intersection while still on red) than Brits are.

- I don't mind "minding the gap" at Tube stations.  The Tube is truly excellent.  

- If I haven't walked enough this summer, I'm making up for it this weeks.  Calves of steel, coming right up.  Sorry, I should say - calves of steel, coming straight away.

- I'm addicted to Lion candy bars.  It's a good thing they don't sell them much in the U.S., or I'd eat them every day.  As a matter of fact, instead of blathering on, I think I'll have one now.  Cheerio!

Greetings from London!

Greetings from jolly olde England!  I had hoped to blog sooner, but our internet has been a little iffy, and who has the time with all we've been doing?  

On Saturday evening, the 4 of us boarded a Virgin Atlantic plane and were wowed by their wonderful  hospitality.  Earplugs, eye mask, blanket, pillow, toothbrush & toothpaste, pen, and the longest, brightest red socks I've ever seen.  We were served complimentary drinks (even spiked ones), as well as dinner and breakfast.  A far cry from the airline we flew the day before, where soft drinks were $3, and I have no idea if they'd actually give you the whole can.  The girls were delighted that they got their own TVs and had a huge selection of shows and movies to enjoy.  I'm sure they'll be even more excited on the way home, since they'll be awake for that whole flight.  I think we all slept for a couple hours on the plane.

Our first day in London began with an accidental tour of the Paddington area, as we searched for our hotel.  After being turned in the right direction, we arrived WAY too early to check in, but hey, a girl can hope, right?  We left our bags at the hotel and went off to explore nearby Hyde Park.  There was a playground right at the entrance, so the girls had fun there.  We checked out the beautiful fountains of Kensington Gardens, and found a place for brunch.  After Scarlett nearly fell asleep in her fried egg on toast (not a big fan of the yolk, as it turns out), we were able to get into our hotel room to nap a bit.  God is good.  :)

Jet lag hit us around midnight, when we all woke up for an hour or more.  I felt like we should've had a jet lag party or something, but I found myself without any refreshments.  Where are tea and crumpets when you need them?  

Monday was a gorgeous day, the perfect day for a double-decker bus tour of London.  We saw many of the famous sights - Trafalgar Square, Piccadilly Circus (which to Scarlett's dismay, has no acrobats or elephants), Big Ben, the Globe Theater, the London Eye, and Buckingham Palace.  Monday evening, Erik and I went to see Rock of Ages, which was a fabulously fun show in a theater completely devoid of air conditioning.  It was probably 70 degrees outside but at least 85 in the theater, which made it a little less pleasant.  But they still rocked.  It's been a very 80's summer, entertainment-wise.  Rad, man.

Today we spent a little time at the National Gallery, viewing a lot of classic masterpieces, which apparently featured far too many naked people for our daughters' tastes.  How does one explain why so many important pieces of art feature nude people?  I told Sierra, "It's because the artist thought they were beautiful," to which she responded, "Well, they were wrong."  

Finally, we spent a little while at the British Museum, which could fill 3 days on its own, but mega-crowds, overheated spaces, and tired children kept our trip short.  We traveled through ancient Egypt, Ancient Greece, Ancient Rome, and a number of other ancient things, in roughly 30 minutes.  30 minutes was also roughly the amount of time we then spent waiting to use "the loo."  We did get to see the Rosetta Stone and some Egyptian mummies in our time there, so we were pleased.  Try explaining mummification to a 4-year-old and an 8-year-old.  "They took dead bodies and wrapped them up so they could keep them?  That's disgusting."  Probably.  But they're older than Jesus, so that counted for something.

It's been a good few days.  I hope to keep you updated on our travels again soon.  

Random Observations While Being Stranded at O'Hare

1. Plastic-wrapped toilet seats may be more hygienic, but they’re certainly not designed for bum-comfort.
 
2. The countdown to automatic flushing could be really helpful for Scarlett, who’s always anxious about the unexpected flush.

3.After making a big production of hocking up a loogie into an airport bathroom sink, I’d suggest that you just leave quietly, rather than striking up a conversation about jewelry with your audience.

4. There is an airline that will actually give you a refund if your flight is delayed several hours and you need to get out of it.

5. Grown men should not wear purple Elmo T-shirts.

6. 4-hour delays are much more fun when you’ve got friends to be goofy with.

Mom-in-Training

Our 8-year-old daughter Sierra is a mommy-in-training.  Or a mommy-wanna-be.  She’s always been a responsible, conscientious kid, but after her sister came around, her mothering skills kicked in.  She didn’t try to change her sister’s diapers or carry her around, but she’s always felt the need to take over as disciplinarian when she feels her sister has strayed from the right path.  I’ll never forget the time when I heard, “Scarlett!  Put away your toys.  Now!  One…two…”  By the time I got there, she was on “two-and-a-half,” and I said, “Sierra, why are you counting?”  She said, “Scarlett’s not putting her toys away like I told her to!”  I said, “What were you going to do if you got to 3?”  She wasn’t exactly sure, but I was quite sure she wasn’t able to carry her sister upstairs for a time-out, the typical consequence of “the big 3”, in the few times her actual parents have actually gotten to it.

I can’t tell you how many times we’ve had to tell Sierra to let us do the parenting.  I’ve actually asked her, “Are we that bad of parents, that you feel like you have to take over for us?”  I find it to be a little amusing, because we are neither lazy parents, who don’t discipline our kids for anything, nor are we super-strict parents, who discipline them for every little thing, like Sierra seems to think we should do.  For her sister.  So was she born with this instinct to parent and discipline, even when it’s not in her job description as an 8-year-old?

I think she was born with the instinct to help.  When she was 5 or 6, she declared that she wanted to help collect communion cups at our 11:00 worship service, since we had no acolytes.  So for almost 3 years, we’ve had a pint-sized cup-collector (and often a similarly-sized friend) at that service.  She started helping set up and clean up communion when the scheduled volunteers would let her.  She even helped train a new volunteer, simply because she knew exactly what to do and when.  This past year, Sierra declared that she wanted to host coffee hour.  Now, this is a multiple-hour commitment, which often requires baking ahead of time.  But she was determined.  So two different Sundays this year, she’s been behind the serving counter, her head just a little higher than the counter, making sure worshippers have goodies to eat.

Sierra is a wonder to me.  Where did she get this from?  While Erik and I are both concerned with hospitality and caring for others, we most certainly didn’t encourage her to do any of these very grown-up things.  Frankly, I never thought an 8-year-old would want to be involved in ways that often it’s hard to get adults involved.  But she’s delighted when she gets to help at our church’s free lunch, something even I have rarely done, since I’m committed to other things.  Sometimes I wish she’d enjoy being a kid more than she seems to, but most of the time, I’m just humbled by the maturity and compassion of this child who is proving anew to me that kids aren’t just the future of the Church – they’re the Church already.  Thanks be to God.

Stop & smell the daylilies

Our daughter Scarlett is a character.  She's four (and a half!) and has more energy than the rest of us combined.  She has a creative mind and a vivid imagination.  Her stuffed dog named Martha is often "responsible" for things I was unaware that stuffed animals were capable of.  We often have to threaten to make Martha sleep outside, because we've found that she "barks" at bedtime, which keeps poor Scarlett awake.  Scarlett also has a whole houseful of imaginary animals - Max the dog, Sam the cat, Towerlick the fox, Kuchina the ladybug, and others.  Thankfully, they don't shed or eat much.

It doesn't take much to keep Scarlett occupied.  She's content to tell stories as she runs around the back yard, and she can turn a stick or a box into a whole afternoon of fun.  The problem is, she has so much fun playing by herself, that she doesn't always have time for kids at her school.  If they don't want to play what she's playing, she'll just play with her imaginary friends and have a fun time.  We're trying to affirm her imagination, while encouraging her to learn to play with others.

This summer, she's had lots of time to play with other kids, during her sister's softball games.  There's a bunch of other younger siblings who run around the sports complex, playing together.  There's no playground, and they're not the type of kids to sit and watch the game, so they make their own fun.  I think they created at least 3 different activities with the rocks they found near a walkway.  Granted, one of those activities involved throwing the rocks, but we put an end to that quickly. 

Last night during a game, Scarlett came over for a drink of water, and I looked at her face.  Her whole nose was crazy-yellow.  Did she take a bite of somebody's hotdog and put her nose in the mustard?  Then I realized what happened.  Scarlett's a kid who can't pass up a puddle that could be jumped in.  She hardly passes a flower without smelling it.  And she found the only batch of daylilies in the whole sports complex, stuck her nose in good, and took a big whiff, covering her nose with pollen.  It turns out that pollen sticks on skin pretty stubbornly, so she sported the yellow nose for most of the night.

Sometimes, Scarlett's curiosity and free-spirited explorations get her into things I'm not crazy about.  But more often, she reminds me that there are a lot of things we grown-ups don't take time to enjoy in the summer.  We don't take time to climb trees, catch fireflies, walk barefoot through puddles, or smell the flowers near often enough.  So for the weeks that are left of summer, I've resolved to enjoy some of it like a kid, because it sounds much more fun than just talking about the weather.  So go ahead.  Stop and smell the daylilies.  I don't know if they're very fragrant, but you'll get an awesome yellow nose.

Forgetfulness

Being on Sabbatical, we've had some times of relaxation, times to travel, and times to work on things we wouldn't otherwise be able to work on.  There are some writing/editing projects I've wanted to work on - things I haven't had time for otherwise.  In hopes of being more productive, I've tried to get away from home a few days to work on those projects. 

So yesterday, I drove from Beloit to Cedarburg, WI to visit my parents and to do some writing at their house.  I was more than halfway there when I realized I hadn't put my purse in the car when I left.  I had my overnight bag and my computer bag, but I never grabbed my purse.  Immediately, panic set in.  What would I do?  Turn around and drive 50+ miles to get my purse?  Continue driving and survive without it for a day?  I opted to do the latter, but I've felt a little naked ever since.  Not to mention feeling like a gigantic idiot.  Who forgets her purse on an overnight trip?  Duh.  I kicked myself around the block and back again.

Obviously, this isn't the first time I've forgotten something.  I've forgotten my pajamas or a toothbrush more times than I care to remember.  On one trip to a conference, I forgot deodorant.  I was alone in an hotel far away from convenience stores, I didn't have a car to go to a store, and the temps in that city were going to be around 100 the whole week.  Yikes.  I could just imagine people at the conference sniffing the air suspiciously, then shifting 4 seats away from me in disgust when they discovered I was the source of the odor.  Fortunately, after I settled down, I discovered that the hotel sold overpriced deodorant downstairs, so KC was spared from the B.O. Incident of '11.

I suppose we all forget things.  How bout you?  If you've got amusing "Here's what I forgot" stories, feel free to share.  This little forgetful episode adds to my anxiety, because next week, we'll be leaving on a trip that will actually be 2 trips.  We head to Dallas for 4 days for a conference, and after a night in a hotel near O'Hare, we retrieve our children, repack suitcases, and fly to London and Ireland for 9 days.  What if I forget something at home?  It's a long trip with very different climates.  What if we leave something in the car?  Our kids would freak if we forgot their blankets.  What if we leave something in one of the hotels we're staying at in the next 3 weeks?

The anxious "what-ifs" could easily overtake my sanity in the next couple weeks.  But I'm not going to let them.  I'm going to do something very un-Jennifer-like and get fiercely organized.  I'm going to summon my latent anal-retentive powers, and I'm going to make lists and check them twice and thrice, and then I'm going to say, "Good enough."  There are things I can control and things I can't.  So I'll focus on what I can control, and then I'm going to let the rest go, trusting that things will work out, and God will continue watching over us.  So I invite you to join me.  Think of 1 thing in your life that's stressing you more than it should.  Find creative ways to deal with the parts of the issue that are within your control.  And consciously work to let the rest go.  It may not be easy, but it's so much healthier and will help you learn to "chill out" about things around you.  So as I try to organize, then chill out, I wish you the best luck as you try to do the same.   

Bon Jovi

When I was in Jr. High, we did not have school dances.  We had Polka Parties.  Seriously.  Yes, I grew up in an area with many folks of German heritage, but still, having a “Polka Party” at a public Middle School seemed odd.  We were 80’s kids with pinned jeans, Valley Girl expressions (“Gag me with a spoon” comes to mind), and high altitude Aqua-Netted bangs.  Oddly, I’m not even sure if they ever played polkas at these much-anticipated events.  But by the time I was in 8^th grade, a DJ or a (non-polka) band played these Polka Parties.  My theory is that the principal was concerned about how serious “school dance” sounded, because we were too young for slow-dancing close, so Polka Party sounded more age-appropriate, even if it wasn’t all that accurate.

My 1st Polka Party is my 1st memory of Bon Jovi.  I must’ve heard Bon Jovi songs on the radio before that, but hearing “Livin’ on a Prayer” blaring from giant speakers in my school cafeteria made an impression on me.  My college roommate was a big Bon Jovi fan, so we listened to her CDs regularly and slept with a large “Keep the Faith” poster watching over us.  So how could I not become a fan?  It certainly didn’t hurt that he was dreamy either.  I’ve continued to be impressed with their music that’s continued into this century as well.

For Christmas last year, Erik got us tickets to the Bon Jovi concert at Soldier Field this past Friday.  I’d never seen them in concert before, and it was awesome.  They sound good, look good, and put on a really great show.  As I stood there, I was taken back to all those points in my life – ‘80’s Polka Parties, a ‘90’s dorm room, 2000’s as an adult.  But what struck me most was the age range of the audience.  There were children of the 80’s, like ourselves, which I expected.  There were children of the children of the 80’s, who seemed to love the band as well.  There were parents of the children of the 80’s.  Every generation was well-represented.  It was cool to see the 70-year-old man with his Bon Jovi tour shirt from 1989, and the 6-year-old with his brand-new Bon Jovi t-shirt.  Bon Jovi has been around for 30 years, and they impress me because they continue to put out great new music (not just the greatest hits from the 80’s), and they bring together people from many generations.

Uniting generations that have little else in common with one another is something I deeply appreciate.  It’s one of the things I love about the Church.  There aren’t many places in our culture where young and old come together and participate as equals.  But just as we stood, singing old and new Bon Jovi songs on Friday night, we weekly stand together singing old and new hymns in worship.  And as we do, there is no distinction between young and old, male and female, no distinctions of race or class or lifestyle.  We come to worship God as we are, which is good enough for God.  We unite our voices in praise, breathing as one, being united by Christ, and reminded of God’s grace.

What's Behind Us

If you think this post is going to be a profound reflection on the things that have happened in our pasts, you might want to stop reading now.  You're going to be disappointed.  And possibly a little shocked.  Because I'm writing about something else that's behind us.  Consider this Friday (Eve) Frivolity, if you like.

My children are totally amused by their butts.  AKA - bottom, bum, rear, behind, derriere, hinder (a family fave).  Our younger daughter Scarlett (4) frequently announces that she's got a wedgie in her bootie, and she thinks it's hilarious.  I'm not sure what it is about the posterior that is so humorous, but a lot of our funny moments in this house have to do with that particular feature.

I don't even remember what happened to whom, but one of the girls fell and cried, "I think I broke my butt!"  When I said, "Oh no!  It's got a crack in it!"  Sobs turned to laughter.  Gotta love the classics.

A couple weeks ago, Sierra (8) was in the shower.  We have glass doors, and once the doors steam up, it's fun to make handprints, footprints, and nose-prints on the glass.  And well, you know what came next.  That particular day, she made 2 butt-prints and said, "Look, Mom!  If you make 2 butt-prints, it looks like a butterfly!"  This is an observation I'd previously been ignorant of.  And today, in the shower again, Sierra made her butterfly and said, "Mom, is that why they call it a BUTTerfly?" 

I'll have to Google that.

There's nothing quite as amusing as bath time at our house.  Because neither child can get out of the bathtub or shower without doing "a bootie dance" for the other, prompting her sister to laugh hysterically.  I suppose I should tell them it's inappropriate, but frankly, it's just way too funny.  And they do know that similar dancing elsewhere is not appropriate.

As adults, we try to be more serious and mature about what's behind us.  We sit on it faithfully, but otherwise, we try to ignore it, or we're critical of its magnitude or topography.  But today, I was particularly grateful for my behind, as a slippery floor and gravity got the better of me.  I could've been seriously injured, but thanks to my posterior cushioning system (PCS), I'm fine, other than the aforementioned crack.  And frankly, I thought it was pretty funny (other than a sore toe).

In the last 8 years, I've learned to see the humor in a lot of things that really didn't seem funny before.  My children introduce me to hilarity I'd never see on my own, and I'm grateful.  So, my friends, laugh.  It's healing.  And fun.  And essential.    

Red Shoes

I have not always been a shoe-lover.  For most of my life, shoes were just another piece of apparel that were necessary for everyday life.  And frankly, to this day, I'd much rather be barefoot (as I am at the moment) than to be wearing shoes.  I bought shoes for comfort and practicality.  I never wore a pair of heels until Prom, and I hardly owned even one pair of heels for another full decade. 

Why?  Because I was too tall.  At least in my mind, I was too tall for high heels.  While 5'7" isn't all that tall, in junior high I grew like a weed, passing up all the girls and most of the boys in my class.  Being taller than almost everybody (for a few years) made me very self-conscious and conspicuous at a time when I would've rather blended in.  I had this sense that I was some sort of freak and figured that boys didn't and wouldn't like me because I was too tall.  So, even after my classmates grew and I didn't stick out so much, I still wore my flats and slouched a bit to seem shorter, all the way through high school, college, and seminary.

I regret the time I wasted, feeling like my height was something to apologize for.  I spent a lot of time hiding, rather than being and becoming the person I wanted to be.  I finally learned to appreciate my height in my mid-20s, partially after marrying a man who I'd never tower over, no matter what shoes I wore.  And one day I saw a pair of scarlet-red satin heels (now known as my ruby slippers) and said, "I don't care who I tower over.  I want to wear those shoes."  And so it began.

I loved how I felt when I wore those shoes.  I finally felt like I was embracing the person I've been all along, and not being afraid of letting people see me.  Now, I own at least 3 pairs of red heels, and many other heels.  My shoes have become one way that I express my style and my personality, which isn't always easy when wearing a drab clergy shirt and robe on weekends.  I like being 5'7", and I like the added height that heels give me.  Where once, my height was embarrassing to me, now I find it empowering.  If I can teach my daughters nothing else, I hope I can teach them to love themselves for who they are, and to wear the red heels (whatever the red heels are in their lives), no matter what anybody else might think.

"You should write a book." 

I write a lot of things.  I write articles.  I write sermons.  I write curriculums.  I write dramas and skits.  I write Christmas Programs.  I write colorful letters, e-mails, and Facebook posts.  And while I've been flattered to hear numerous people say, "Jennifer, you should write a book," I'm not at all confident that I have the discipline to write a whole book.  Maybe half a book.  Or a chapter.  Or maybe a blog.

My first confession to you, is that the idea of writing a blog makes me break out in emotional hives.  If you've never experienced emotional hives, just know that they're almost as uncomfortable as regular hives, just harder to scratch.  The hives are brought on by my Lutheran humility, which says, "Don't be so arrogant as to think you've got stuff to say that people actually care to read about."  But when I told a friend of mine that I felt arrogant expecting people would want to hear my random musings in a blog, she said, "Get over it. You expect people to listen to your musings on Sundays, right?"  I suppose that's true.  And on the up-side, if people fall asleep reading my blog, they can snore as loudly as they want without being elbowed by someone in the pew next to them.

I'm on a Sabbatical right now.  My husband Erik and I serve together at Our Savior's Lutheran Church in Beloit, Wisconsin, a fabulous congregation.  We've served there over 9 years and are taking 6 weeks away to recharge our batteries.  We'll be doing some traveling in the coming weeks, so I expect this will be a travel log for a while.  Our two daughters always give me to get a new perspective on life, so they often appear in my writing.  When I write, I like to look at things in a different way.  I like to make people think.  I like to make people smile and chuckle.  I don't expect that this blog will be heavy theological stuff, and it certainly won't be me spouting my views on controversial issues.  I'm a practical person, I appreciate opportunities to be creative, and I delight in the "ordinary" joys of life.  So I hope this blog offers you something that helps you see things in a new way, that delights your sense of humor, and that reveals the extraordinary grace, wonders and joys that God showers upon us every day.