This is a test...

...to see whether I can actually post on my blog from Cameroon.

The whole reason I decided to jump on the bandwagon and get a blog was the
idea of posting via email. Posting from Cameroon would be such fun... not
only does the forum of "a blog" fit my favourite communication style, it's
also a way to dispel the imbedded myth that missionaries are superpeople
without normal lives. I want to blog about normal life on the
missionfield.

But I want to find out if this works BEFORE I lose internet access for a
month at a time. So here goes...

Precious

"Way Out West... With a Baby." Hannah handed me the book. "Wead dis one?" I found myself reading with a distinct drawl, in rhyme, about Dan, Deke, and Dom, who found a baby lost on the prairie, fed him, got spit up on, stopped "spitting and cussing" ("we gotta raise this baby right!") and then returned him to the wagon train he had been lost from.

Happy story. Happy two-year-old (does she want to be a cowgirl?). Happy Sharon...

~*~*~*~*~

"This is Miss Sharon, Daniel. She is a friend."

He looked at me sidewise, unconvinced, until I blew on the bottom of his feet. Giggling through his hiccoughs, he decided Mommy was probably right. But the clincher was the shiny round thing hanging from my neck. Anybody who wears a sparkly, silver, oversized Cheerio around her neck must surely be a friend...

Um... rather

News flash: I am now a "biker babe." -Don't ask me for the picture. I don't have it.

Happy Book gem: "It's really scary when you only recognise people by their corpses." I'm not going to attribute this one, unless someone really really wants credit for it...

Highlights

First. The most dramatic thing I learned yesterday: The static coefficient of friction for wet algae is nearly nil. Attempting to cross a four-foot-wide stretch of running water and algae, set on a 40-degree incline, may be hazardous to your health (or you may just end up slimy, green, and muddy).

Second. The most beautiful thing I've heard in a while. At breakfast this morning, spoken by a dear friend who has been diagnosed with a brain tumour: "I think it is a lovely thing to be able to savour your entrance into heaven." Marge, your face radiates light and serenity and joy; I think those of us around you have a glimpse of the ineffable sweetness you are savouring. Thank you.

Relevance theory

My grandpa's eyes focused on something far away that I couldn't see. "That sounds... familiar."

He went on: remembering, searching for a word that eluded him, reliving that summer at the Bible Institute of Los Angeles when he and my grandma had broken up because "she was pretty set on the missionfield. And I, ah, I wanted to be a journalist. I loved writing."

My grandma's eyes shone quietly, perhaps even more deeply than they do in the black-and-white photo I have of their wedding. "After we got married, a couple years later, we did apply to Village Missions. But instead, God gave us a pastorate in Fort Bragg, CA... maybe more of a 'village mission' than the one we thought we wanted overseas."

God finds creative ways to remind me that His plan is WAY bigger than mine.

Thoughts on graduation

There's nothing like attending my little sister's graduation to make me feel... no, not old. Maybe "adrift." If that was me five years ago (and as hard as I try not to see it sometimes, there are definitely uncanny similarities), then who am I now? Has the space of five years really developed five years' worth of maturity in me?

Despite my somber introspection, however, I'm immensely proud of my sister. She succeeded in being an almost invisible (and quite indispensable) accompanist, a very visible (and quite persuasive) speaker, and a generally well-liked member of her graduating class. Go Stacia!

On a more serious note, Stacia, may God continue to give you the unshakable certainty that no matter what happens, He is good.

What Adam had and forfeited for all,
Christ keepeth now, who cannot fail nor fall.

I love you, little sister!

Overcoming Blogophobia

I suppose one could say I've succumbed to peer pressure.

I think the truer version would be that I've decided my fear is irrational.

You know, the fear that if I sign up for a blog, I will suddenly stop having anything interesting to say and become a bore. Either that or the fear that I will post religiously for about three months and then abandon it.

It takes a bit of creative thinking to be afraid of a blog. But here I am. Perhaps I should direct my creative thinking into other channels...