You Say Soccer, Mike Says Football

My guy Mike got to fulfill a long-time dream whilst in France.


Whilst.


We don't use that word enough in American vernacular.


Whilst, whilst, whilst.


Just trying to make up for lost time here.


So Mike got to fulfill a long-time dream.


Getting to see European soccer while actually in Europe.  In person.


Except they call it football there.


Just to confuse things a bit.

Mike and 1 of 8 headed to Stade de France in Saint-Denis to watch Les Bleus, the French national soccer team. The stadium seats 80,000 fans.


And two of them there were from this household.


And one of them is a rabid soccer fan.

And was long before it became hip to like soccer.


And Mike did predict that Spain would win the World Cup several months before they actually did.


Just sayin'.

1 of 8 was fascinated  by the guys sitting in yellow jackets at the edge of the field, their backs turned away from all the action.


Apparently, they are security and crowd control.


She liked the aesthetic of it, I suppose.

So now Mike can cross a European soccer match off his list.


Now he just has a Spain soccer match...


...and an Arsenal match (that's a British team, for those in the know...)


...and a Brazil match.


One down.


Several to go...

Field Trip!

I'm taking you to Paris this week.

Seriously.

Without any of the inconvenience of that long plane ride.

True to his word, Mike arrived home from France with a file full o'pics.

I was quite delighted.

Mike traveled with 1 of 8 to Paris to get her settled in for a year of study at the Sorbonne. I extracted numerous reassurances that they would take lots of pictures of their time in France together.

And they delivered.

That first picture is of them at the L'Arc de Triomphe. It is a monument to French soldiers, in particular for those who fought during the Napoleonic Wars.

I'm thinking 1 of 8 is already looking pretty French, with her little Audrey Hepburn 'do and her baguette in hand...

And, of course, Mike holding that bottle of Evian makes him look super French too.

It's all about blending in to your surroundings, right?

This was taken on another day from another angle...but it's still my cute honey in front of a major landmark. So I'm posting it.

There will be adventures a'plenty this blog week as I drag you along for Mike's whirlwind tour. And it is a kick to see Mike and 1 of 8 in the city she's been dreaming of for so long.

But I think the thing I love the most from their collection of pictures is seeing them getting to have this experience together, for this first baby of ours who is now a young woman to get to have her daddy join in on this journey that has long been a goal of hers.

Plus I just like looking at pictures of my cute husband.

Sunday Selah

“Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!”

Philippians 4:4

Rejoice.
Chairo. The Greek word for rejoice.

'a primary verb; to be "cheerful", i.e., calmly happy or well-off; be well; be glad...'

To be calmly happy in the Lord.

Getting a crew this size out the door on a Sunday morning to head to church needs this verse spoken over it. The rush to find a couple of missing shoes, the tangle in the back of the seven-year-old's hair that just won't come out, the scramble for car keys and books, the squabble between siblings...or their parents.

But we're supposed to be rejoicing, not just racing.

And I'm supposed to be modeling rejoicing to my children, not just ranting.

Rejoice in the Lord, always.

Yes, I want us to be on time, and yes, I would like for the kids to look presentable. Yes, there is value in honoring the clock and in freshly pressed clothes.

But I do know this about my Father.

He is much more concerned with process.

What am I exhibiting in the doing?

Rejoice.

When cereal gets spilled on a clean outfit. When the toothpaste is missing. When potty training goes awry right as we walk out the door.

Because by the time we load into that big ol' van to head to church, we've already had church. We've been worshiping all in the getting ready.

Rejoice.

Always.

In the Lord.

Selah.

JPEG of the Week

~My beautiful grandmother and me~

~summer 2010~

Answered Prayer

You may remember a post from back on Father's Day about my friends and their adoption of two little girls from Uganda.

Back in June, I wrote:

After overcoming some various challenges, things looked like they were settled and my friends prepared to head home with the girls to their other two children, making them a family of six.

Uganda issued passports for the girls and the Ugandan government gave my friends full adoption of the girls in a time when not many adoptions are being allowed. The Ugandan government also issued the girls passports. We were all so thrilled and assumed the hard part was behind us.

Then Russ and Kristi got to our embassy in Uganda to get the girls' visas before flying out.

It seemed like the one easy detail of a long journey.

And yet.

Unfortunately, the US Embassy in Uganda has not issued the visas for the girls. After days and days of waiting, Russ had to make the tough decision to return to the U.S.A without Kristi and the girls. Kristi has now been in Uganda for over two months, several weeks with Russ now stateside, waiting upon the US Embassy's decision about the girls' visas.

Well, here we are in September.  And after five months of paperwork and red tape and heartache and hope and prayer, Kristi and the girls are now safely back in the U.S.  It is my hope to have Kristi guest blog here in the near future and share with you the incredible adventure they have been on.  Suffice it for now to say...


...we are grateful.
Thankful.
And so excited to welcome these precious girls into our community of family and friends.


Many thanks to all of you who have prayed for this precious family, who have emailed me asking for updates, who have extended your hearts and faith to this amazing adoption story.

Home Again

This guy came home from Paris last night.

Paris, France.

Not Paris, Texas.

Around here, simply throwing out the city name of Paris doesn't always make the continent location of that city abundantly clear.

As more proof that I live with people who have the nocturnal metabolism of gerbils, this guy was up for 24 hours getting home, went to bed last night at his usual time and was up and out the door to the office this morning at the crack of dawn.

I, on the other hand, finally got a really good's night sleep. When Mike's away, I stay up until the wee hours rearranging furniture and watching odd documentaries on the history channel. And then I drag around during the day and scold myself because, unlike several members of my family, I do actually require sleep.

So I need Mike as a governor to enforce my bedtime.

Mike tells me that he and 1 of 8 took great pictures in Paris and that he may even be in some of those pictures.

Which would be an improvement over his two trips to NYC this summer, one trip being to get 2 of 8 settled in the Big Apple at Joffrey Ballet and a return trip to visit her.

That snapshot above is the only photographic proof I have of him in NYC with 2 of 8.

Yep.

That's it.

So I'll be curious to see what kind of camera memory card treasure trove of Paris might be in evidence.

Paris, France, you understand.

Not Paris, Texas.

Just wanting to be clear...

Lovers, Rescue and Ferrets...and the Capulets...

I'm trying to decide what we're rescuing here...


Are we rescuing people who love ferrets?


Are there ferret lovers, a la Romeo and Juliet, who need to be rescued from their feuding families?


The Ferret Capulets?  The Ferret Montagues?


Or does this mean that ferrets rescue lovers?


I have so many questions...

Raindrops and Puddles

It's raining today.

Buckets.

The sky is heavy and gray. The streets are shimmering. The green of the trees and the lawns looks even more verdant against the steely backdrop.

I love it.

Love it.

And I might just love possibly even a tad more that I did one of my longer training runs last night a day early...before the storm moved in.

It seems so apropos for this day after Labor Day, the day most folks consider as the first day of fall, to look the part.

And you wouldn't want to wear white out in this precip party anyway.

So I confess to being somewhat egalitarian in my meteorological tastes. While I crave the bright sunlit beaches of summer, I'm ready for the shaded days of fall. And this downpour seems the perfect launch party.

What weather speaks to you? What kind of climes are near and dear to your heart? Dish in the comment section below...

Hangin' On

...trying to hang on to summer for just a few more days.

And trying to hang on to that boogie board.

Which seems to have sprouted legs.

6 of 8 was just 11 months old when we moved to the island...so she's a true blue beach baby.

And 8 of 8 thinks there is no better place for running and jumping and surfing and general all over sandiness....

2 of 8 is quite the patient surf instructor...

7 of 8 is rocking the Hello Kitty bikini...

If I could get the kids to work on their schoolwork as diligently and as long as they did to secure 3 of 8 in the sand, they'd all be in college at the age of nine...

I'm looking forward to the cooler climes of fall, to the pumpkins and leaves and candy corn. But these waning days of summer are sweet indeed....

Sunday Selah

Say to the Israelites: 'On the first day of the seventh month you are to have a day of rest, a sacred assembly commemorated with trumpet blasts. 25 Do no regular work, but present an offering made to the LORD by fire.'

Lev. 23:24

A new year begins this week.
And not just in the scholastic sense.

Not just with kids heading back to school and college football kicking off.

It is the beginning of the new year on the Jewish calendar.

Rosh Hashanah marks the beginning of the a new year on the Jewish civil calendar and is heralded by the blowing of the shofar, a trumpet of sorts made out of the horn of a ram or a goat. In Jewish tradition, Rosh Hashanah commemorates the creation of the universe, specifically the creation of man. It is called the Feast of Trumpets in the Bible.

With our Western traditions of the new year starting on January 1st, we usually take the opportunity to create 'resolutions' for the upcoming year. We make goals, set out new fitness routines and focus on improvement and growth.

But Rosh Hashanah begins the Jewish new year with a slightly different focus.

Because the new year is seen as kicking off with God surveying our deeds from the past year and calling us to repentance. It is seen as a day of judgement and an opportunity for repentance.

It's a chance to begin a new year cleansed, to cast off the sin of the yesteryear.

And it involves introspection, remorse and resolve to walk a more cleansed life, to take the blank pages of the unfolding year and to use them as step stones to walk closer with God.

Not a bad idea, I'd say.

One of my brothers and his wife pursued all kinds of graduate degrees, my brother earning a master's in environmental science and my sister-in-law earning her PhD in bimolecular chemistry. For many years of their adult lives, the fall season began for them as it had all through their childhoods; new school classes, fresh notebooks, new pencils and pens, the latest textbooks. My brother related to me how odd it was the first fall that rolled around after he and his wife had completed their degrees, how strange it seemed to not have blank notebooks to fill and pencils to sharpen. There was something renewing in the heading-back-to-school fall season for them.

We come to the season of Rosh Hashanah with our folders ratty from the previous year and our pencils down to the nub. And by His grace, the Lord offers us a fresh start, a chance to learn more of His ways. But to understand the value in that gift, we must first understand and admit and own where we have been. A new year chock full of new resolutions doesn't hold much promise if we can't repent for the mistakes that have led to those resolutions. It doesn't mean we wallow in the past. It does mean we need to look it head on, without trying to dust it off and pretty it up and excuse it away.

And the Lord can take that mess and He can take our sincere apology.

And He can hand us a fresh notebook of grace where we can chose to write words of life.

Rosh Hashanah.

The trumpet blows.

Happy New Year.

Selah.

JPEG of the Week

~7 of 8~

~taken by 3 of 8~

Indy Film

3 of 8 continues his film writing, directing and editing. In this latest offering, he interviews one of his clones, accused of calling the pizza man...

Supporting a Good Claw....

This is the convergence of all things American right here.

Fun song, baseball and supporting our troops.

And you can help!

Our pastor, Randy Phillips of Phillips, Craig and Dean, wrote a rap song for the Texas Rangers baseball team. It has quickly taken hold as the 'anthem' for the Rangers, being played at the stadium to celebrate great hits and spurring the crowd to do 'The Claw'.


Cool stuff.

But here's where it gets even cooler.

There is a special group of soldiers at Fort Hood called the Phantom Fighters. They go into enemy territory to scout and survey conditions prior to troops being sent in. Their work is incredible important...and dangerous.

You can help support the families of these brave soldiers by downloading The Claw. Proceeds from the song purchase will go toward provided gifts and letters to the families of the Phantom Fighters.

Click here to go the Ranger Claw homepage. You'll find the iTunes link there and more information about the song.

Doing a good deed. All with a few clicks of the keyboard.

Make you proud to be an American, doesn't it?

Viva La France!

Talk about letting them spread their wings and fly.


She up and flew all the way to France.

1 of 8 left yesterday for The Continent  to start school.

In my head, I had planned on taking pictures of her with all her siblings and of her in a beautiful beret a precious friend gave to her and of 1 of 8 loading her suitcases into the car and of her checking in at the airport.


And then there was the reality of the scramble to grab everything and get out the door.

All the little kids, 5, 6, 7 and 8 of 8 slept in her bed last night.  They are already missing her.

1 of 8's Mini Me, Miss 7 of 8, refused to hug her sister goodbye.  We had explained to 7 of 8 that 1 was going to the city of 7's favorite movie, American in Paris.  We explained that 1 of 8 was going to that place where Gene Kelly is in the movie (bit of movie trivia: none of American in Paris was actually shot on location in Paris.  You're welcome.).


But 7 of 8 was having none of it.  Wouldn't pose for a photo with 1 of 8.  Wouldn't give her a hug.  Wouldn't wave goodbye.


I thought 7 of 8 must be overcome by 1 leaving.


Until 7 of 8 filled me in later.


As we were driving to an appointment for 7 of 8 yesterday afternoon, she said, "Gene Kelly is MY boy.  Not 1 of 8's!"  And then she went on to tell me how American in Paris is HER movie and again how Gene Kelly is HER boy.


So that was apparently the hiccup in the sentimental goodbye to her oldest sister.


It was a good ol' fashioned cat fight over Gene Kelly.


And Paris.


We'll see who wins.

77

My new favorite number is 77.

Because that's the temperature in the house this morning.

The HVAC guy came back yesterday.

Twice.

I was beginning to wonder if getting the AC fixed was going to require animal sacrifice.

I think the HVAC guy was beginning to wonder that also.

Although he wouldn't admit to it.

77.

On our way to 73.

And we all slept last night. In beds. With light covers.

77.

So that's the big news around here.

That, and the France thing.

As in, 1 of 8 heads to France today.

For school.

And culture.

And no air conditioning, for the most part.

77.

Personal Style

He found some scissors.

Friday night, when Mike and I were on a date.

And he decided to go all old school.

Or old monastery.

And tonsure himself.

We're calling him Friar 8.

It will grow.

Right?

Sunday Selah

Your love has given me great joy and encouragement, because you, brother, have refreshed the hearts of the saints.

Philemon 1:7

I used to 'go to church' because I thought that I would get into big trouble with God if I didn't attend.
And then once I got over that way of thinking, I went through a phase where I was trying to figure out what the point of 'going to church' actually was. I knew I could call on my Father just as easily from the seat of my car as from my seat in a pew. I knew I could worship Him in song as I washed dishes as deeply as I could from the depths of an auditorium.  While Michael and I have always kept the habit of weekly attendance, it is a question we do receive from people from time to time, why all the 'church-going'.

I do know why I'm going this week.

Air conditioning.

Don't stone me just yet.

In our hot August Texas climes, the air conditioning at the house played out mid-week. By late Wednesday, the HVAC technician thought he had it patched back together well enough to see us through the weekend until a key part comes in Monday.

That lasted all of 24 hours and by Thursday night, the house was back to feeling like a pizza oven. Another technician showed up late Friday afternoon and tried another work around, which lasted until yesterday morning.

And then the compressor decided to join its fellow failed air condition components of fan and circuit board.

And the mercury outside and in has climbed and climbed.

Obviously, most of the world's population lives without the luxury of air conditioning. And they live just fine. We ourselves have actually begun to adjust over the past few days, finding that when the temp in the house drops to the mid-eighties during the evening, we feel downright comfortable.

Well, maybe not comfortable. But tolerable.

We're a little draggy, a little subdued. The heat does make one feel lethargic.

But if we had to survive without AC, we could.

That said, we are all very excited this morning to head to church. Because there is cool, refreshing air there.

And that speaks to me, given the events of this week.

Yes, we can meet with the Lord anytime, anywhere. It's one of the great privileges extended to us because of the cross. And those times of getting away somewhere, alone, to focus on the Lord and His Word are amazing.

But there is also great refreshing that comes in gathering as a community of people, in attending the family reunion of our brothers and sisters in Christ. To stand in the congregation, to pray in unity, to look into the faces of those we are walking this life with, to know trial and victory and strength and hope beyond the self-involved walls of our own head, this is one of the key reasons of 'going to church'.

To be a part of what is really 'the church'. The people.

The messy people, the loving people, the inspirational people, the lost people. To be amongst the hodgepodge of hearts.

And to feel the cool refreshing of Christ's community whisper across our lethargic souls.

We come together to refresh and re-energize and encourage one another. We come together as a family united. We come together as living reminders of His mercy and grace and salvation, even when the week of the world has left us tired and depleted.

We come for the air conditioning of the Spirit, that incredible place where the climate of our hearts can be changed from stormy to peaceful.

Going to 'church'.

To be the church.

And to find refreshing.

Selah.

JPEG of the Week

~New 'Do~

~shorter, sassier~

~2 of 8~