The Plant Killer's Offspring

After several years of silence, I am sure most of my faithful blog readers gave up hope that I would ever blog again.  However, if you have a really, really, really, really good memory, you might remember that I once wrote a post entitled "My Black Thumb" lamenting the fact that people often give plants at funerals. Unfortunately, plants and I do not get along well.  In fact, I think within two or three months, I have killed almost every plant that has been unfortunate enough to receive my care (or lack thereof).

Exhibit A

When we moved to Korea in January, we moved into the apartment of one of the staff members, who was taking a six month sabbatical in the states. As she showed me around the apartment, she asked me to care for her two plants...Yikes, not my forte.  I thought it was in her best interest to know my history before entrusting her babies to my care, so I made a full confession and admitted my previous life as a notorious plant killer. Despite my honesty, she still left them in my care.  I am proud to say that after four and a half months, and with only three weeks to go, both plants have survived and do not look worse for the wear.  Although, I would be lying if I did not admit that on a few occasions they looked a little yellow and wilted from lack of water or sunlight. However, they still made it. 

Fortunately, I do not think that my tenderhearted daughter inherited my black thumb.  A few weeks ago, she planted some flower seeds in a small pot as part of a kids club. She took the little pot home, and has been diligently watching her growing plants. One day, she accidentally knocked over the pot, and she broke out in tears over her little plant.  Mom to the rescue....I was able to quickly scoop up the poor thing, and we were able to replant the young sprout.  

I often catch her out on the porch moving her plant around to ensure it gets enough sunlight, and sometimes she even sings to it. This morning, I ventured out to the porch to hang some laundry on the drying rack, and this is what I found. 

My little sweetheart found a stool, placed it in front of the porch window, and opened the blinds just wide enough for the stool to be exposed to full sunlight.  Then she proceeded to find her plastic teapot, fill it with water and place it next to her plant.  She told me that the teapot was the perfect way for her to give her little plant just enough water when it was thirsty.

Perhaps, there is hope for the Plant Killer's Offspring after all.  Maybe someday, she will have a flourishing garden, or at least be able to care for a plant for more than six months.  We can only hope...

Playing with my camera settings

Blowing Dandelions

Blowing dandelions is one of my favorite things to do during the spring and summer.  There is something magical about taking a deep breath and scattering seeds attached white fluff.  Who knows where the wind will take them, or what will become of them.  Despite being reprimanded by my farmer parents who know the dangers of spreading weeds, I still occasionally cannot resist the temptation to scatter the seeds in the wind.  In fact, I have even taught my daughter the simple joy of blowing dandelions.

The other day, I babysat a cute little three-year old boy.  We took a romp through our neighborhood filled with twenty-story apartment buildings. In the midst of our urban surroundings, we discovered some fluffy white dandelions, and I couldn't resist teaching him the joy of blowing dandelion seeds.

The simple joy of blowing dandelions makes me think of passages from Psalm 1, Jeremiah 17, and Matthew 13 and makes me consider what kind of soil the seeds will fall upon.

Jeremiah 17
 ⁵ This is what the Lord says:

“Cursed is the one who trusts in man,
    who draws strength from mere flesh
    and whose heart turns away from the Lord.
⁶ That person will be like a bush in the wastelands;
    they will not see prosperity when it comes.
They will dwell in the parched places of the desert,
    in a salt land where no one lives.

⁷ “But blessed is the one who trusts in the Lord,
    whose confidence is in him.
⁸ They will be like a tree planted by the water
    that sends out its roots by the stream.
It does not fear when heat comes;
    its leaves are always green.
It has no worries in a year of drought
    and never fails to bear fruit.”

Matthew 13
¹⁸ “Listen then to what the parable of the sower means: ¹⁹ When anyone hears the message about the kingdom and does not understand it, the evil one comes and snatches away what was sown in their heart. This is the seed sown along the path. ²⁰ The seed falling on rocky ground refers to someone who hears the word and at once receives it with joy. ²¹ But since they have no root, they last only a short time. When trouble or persecution comes because of the word, they quickly fall away. ²² The seed falling among the thorns refers to someone who hears the word, but the worries of this life and the deceitfulness of wealth choke the word, making it unfruitful. ²³ But the seed falling on good soil refers to someone who hears the word and understands it. This is the one who produces a crop, yielding a hundred, sixty or thirty times what was sown.”


It also makes me hope that you are able to take a few minutes to enjoy the simple things in God's creation like blowing dandelions and hunting for ants.

The Young Girls are moving to... Phnom Penh, Cambodia

Cambodia, here we come!

 You can learn all about our plans by reading our recent update letter.



Read our newsletter

A Loooooooooooooong Time Coming

Well, it has been two and half years since my last post.  Can you believe it? Where has the time gone?   I'm not sure where your time has gone, but mine has been invested in classes, books, studying, traveling and life with my daughter.  Sometimes life seems so full and busy that I don't have time to catch my breath let alone put words on paper (or a computer screen) to capture life and time as it passes. 

I am sure most of  you who haven't given up reading my blog are aware of the direction my life has taken, but here's a brief recap for those that don't know. 

Sometimes when one dreams ends a new one begins.  For me, that process has slowly occurred over the course of the five years since my husband passed away.  I spent the first two years in survival mode trying to grieve and establish a new life and new routines.  Slowly over time, I began to seek a new dream for my future.  While I loved camp ministry, I knew it was not conducive to single parenting, especially once my daughter reached school age.  My summers are crazy busy, and the rest of the year she would be in school, allowing us almost no time to spend together.

 I began praying and considering my skills and passions.  Since I was in middle school, I have experienced a love for all things international, and I have borne a desire to live and minster abroad.  I also enjoy working with kids.  About two and half years ago, I decided to pursue a teaching license with the intention of using it to live abroad and work at an international school, which combined both of my passions.  I spent the next two years working, studying and parenting like a crazy woman.  Which brought me to where I am today....

Today, I am sitting in a little coffee shop overlooking a little park in Uijeongbu, South Korea on a lovely spring day in early May.  Last week, I completed my semester of student teaching and I am enjoying a few weeks of R&R in Korea while my daughter completes her Kindergarten school year.  Two weeks ago, I officially accepted my first international  teaching job, and we are poised on the edge of a new adventure.  Our new dream is beginning to take shape.

A Moment of Sheer Joy

For months now, I haven't been able to write anything. In the beginning, I would sit at my computer and blankly stare at the keyboard. For some reason, words refused to come. As the weeks turned to months, I just avoided blogging and journaling all together. In fact, not only did my writing cease, I also slowly stopped sharing my heart with people and pretty much stopped communicating in general. Stuck in silence....

This week, three things happened that actually made be want to write again. (I will probably post them in three separate posts.) I am still processing their significance, but since I feel compelled to write, I might as well get the words out before they disappear.

A couple of days ago, I took Abigail to town in attempt to distract us from the fact we were so tired, and help us cope with jet lag. It was dusk, but I decided to stop at a park and let Abigail run around for a bit. When we arrived at the playground area, there were only three other people. Two men in their late twenties/early thirties and a boy of about 4. At first, I thought it was a bit strange that all three of them were on the bouncy bridge part of the playset. I typically don't see grown men on playground equipment. As Abigail rushed off for the slide, I studied them a bit more closely. After watching them for a few minutes, what was happening was began to dawn on me. One of the men was blind, and the other two were showing him around the play equipment. They helped him across the bridge, up a few steps, slide down a pole, and climb a ladder. I was mesmerized as I watched him painstakingly work his way over to the monkey bars. I watched as the man's friend showed him the bars and then forced him to try to hang on the bars and work his way across them. I could see the uncertainty on his face each time he moved one of his hands. As he waved each hand desperately trying to find his next handhold, my heart broke for the man. Despite all of his concentration and determination, he only made it about halfway across the span before he fell.

As I watched my three-year-old daughter and the other little boy easily navigate the play equipment running and laughing, I wondered how frustrating, difficult, and humbling it must be to live every day having to ask for help to do things that even a three-year old-can do easily.

Not long after the monkey bars, the blind man's friend led him over to the swing set and helped him get settled on a swing. As the man began to pump his legs, his whole demeanor changed. His face took on a look of awe and wonder. His stark white teeth stood out against his dark skin as he broke out into a huge grin. He let out half-laugh, half-shriek of pleasure as his swing went higher and higher. I can't recall the last time I saw any one's face covered with such sheer joy. For a moment, I was almost jealous. He looked like he was enjoying himself so much. I secretly longed to jump on a swing, close my eyes, and try to catch a glimpse of the joy he was experiencing, blindly swing with the wind on his face.

For the next 30 minutes, the man swung back and forth, the smile never leaving his face. A few times, I think I even heard him humming. As darkness closed in, I packed up my daughter and left the park. In my rear view mirror, I could still make out the man's swinging, smiling face as I drove away.

Even though it has been two days, I can't quite seem to shake the image from my mind. While I don't know this man's story, I can imagine that life is not easy for him. I watched him struggle across a set of monkey bars, only to see him moments later swinging in joyful abandonment. He could have been so consumed with his struggles that he didn't enjoy the swing, or he could have been so concerned with what other people might think of a grown man shrieking with joy on a swingset made for children that he held himself back. However, he didn't care what anyone thought. Instead, he seized the moment and enjoyed it to the fullest.

That man probably did not even know I was at the park watching him, but he has inspired me to look for moments of joy amidst the struggles of life, and truly relish them when I find them.

Christmas in a Blizzard

This year, we went to the farm in Iowa for Christmas for 9 days. We arrived just before a blizzard hit and spent most of our vacation snowed in. Even though we probably only got about 18 inches of snow, every time the wind blew the little county gravel roads became impassible. While I did get good time with my parents and sister, I barely got to see my brother's family. I also didn't get much time to spend with my friends and extended family. There is just something about being snowed in that leaves me feeling claustrophobic. Overall, it was an okay trip, but I was so looking forward to it that I left feeling a little disappointed.