So much I need to say to you...

If I was eloquent I would have caught the grammatical mistake on my last post.

I'm not. I won't even correct it. I need to share with any who will read the most simple truth in all the world.

It's so simple a three year old can explain it.

Jesus is your friend. He died on the cross to give you a clean heart.

I would love to sit down and chat with you about Jesus and the forgiveness and grace he pours out freely!

Whatever you are searching for isn't found in the next romance novel or your next fling or your next binge or your next adventure or your next do-good project or the perfect marriage or the perfect house or the next bottle.

You are searching for the simple profound deep abiding love found in Jesus' finished work on the cross. The completeness of what he did for you was confirmed at his resurrection from the dead. Once you've encountered that love and realize that he's not waiting for you to clean up your act or do religious things you'll discover all that he has in store for you.

I haven't figured out a way to say anything to you face to face because I don't want you to feel cornered. I know I tend to be very overbearing in a conversation, especially when I am fully convinced I'm right. I don't want to be that way about that which is supremely important in my life. At the same time I don't want to be silent about what I believe.

I know I am a broken pot held together by the treasures of eternity contained within. I know the message you see in my life doesn't always line up with what I believe. I'm sorry. It's further proof of who God really is. He loves me anyway. He knew I was a cracked pot when he started with me.

If you don't know what I'm talking about, read the Bible and ask God to show himself to you like he did to Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Joseph, Moses, Aaron... the list goes on and on. If you want to know where to start, read the book of John in the Bible.

Don't wait.  Start now and see what God will do.

What did you learn on your family vacation?

I woke with a start this morning; the sun was up and I was not. I'm usually at work before sun up! This is a problem... And so began day nine of this adventure... It would have been reasonable to assume that I overslept because I'm exhausted from taking care of two kids all by myself and working a full time job to boot... But that is not the case you see. I have these great parents, I'm spoiled. They think they spoil my kids; really, they spoil me. My boys are spending their days centrally located at my parents' house. I don't even have to get them dressed or ready for the day or for bed. I don't have to feed them 2/3 of their meals and if I'd give-up dinner with them I could not worry about their food at all... You see I'm spoiled.

Not only do my parents spoil me but my husband and sons do as well. Oh and let me say, I have wonderful friends, too. All of you have made this adventure incredibly easy. Today I am thankful that Kent taught me how to throw red beans and rice together to make a meal... My mom wants me to make it for one Sunday dinner. Yes, it was that good! When my family is around, I am motivated to get up in the morning so I can get home all the earlier to be with them. I miss reading stories to my boys. You'd think I'd pack them up to read when I'm with them but were too busy playing Monopoly Deal. There are so many things we learn together. I miss a measure of security knowing that if I fall down someone is right there to pick me up. I miss the ability to spontaneously gather what we can to throw on the neighbors grill... Kent's really good at that.

So back to that early morning wake-up call... I'd love one... But I'll be glad when my immediate family is all together again!


Good night.

Setting thongs in order....

In honor of spell check, I am not correcting my post title!

So Kent and number one are gone. Should have enough time to get the house in order and accomplish a few crafts I have in mind... If I get the house in order that will be sufficient. However, some of you have been very concerned about our diet while The Crooked Chef is away with his Sioux Sous Chef. I will say that over the years with Kent I have learned to do more than macaroni and cheese. We have enjoyed Chili (and Chili Dogs). We have enjoyed Tacos and Taco Salads. One night we ate Pizza. One lunch we ate Chic-Fil-A. I think we'll be fine. Waffles and strudels for breakfast (I eat oatmeal... no fun!) There's no harm in those, is there? Does it count if one day we had cereal and a fruit smoothie? I will say, I missed the steak dinner he cooked for Clea and Isaac's 10th anniversary! but I did spill Canadian Steak Seasoning all over the kitchen counter and floor... does that come close to actually "crookin'"?

As you can see, we won't starve. We won't have the gourmet magic to which I've become accustomed. Up next: Pulled Pork in the Crockpot... can she do it?

I suppose an update is in order ...

If you know my family, you know we really enjoy missions work. We help. We visit. We go. Well earlier this year we decide that it was time for my husband and 14 year old first born to go on his first trip. The opportunity just happens to coincide with the need for missionaries Isaac and Clea Wootton to be encouraged by a visit from friends from the States.

When I reflect on how we got here I realized that not many know what we do or why we do it.

I'll start with my story and let Kent share his on his blog.

As a youth my pastor led our group on short term missions to the United States poorest region, The Cumberland Gap. We spent two weeks working until we dropped then listening to teaching and worshipping God until we just couldn't go on every night. Then getting up to do it again. By the end of two weeks we were a changed group and changed individuals.

Fast forward to college and I had a chance to go overseas. We went to southern India. I had never experienced such different culture and extreme poverty. Before that journey, we had practiced pantomime drama and studied a book about cross cultural missions. We had to learn what was cultural and thus nonessential. This training would prove valuable. Following the lead of our Translators and team guides, sometimes we performed and departed quickly. Other times we performed and lingered to pray with natives who responded to the preaching. The message from my pastor? "Love God. Love folks." I've been working to heed that command ever since.

It wasn't until nearly 10 years later before I would have a chance to go again. This time it was a five (5) days in Haiti. I nearly brought home a precious baby. (I would have failed and been stuck forever.) To have a baby with fever and parasites and have no help for them, breaks a mothers heart. I had a son at home whom I missed. I carried the baby to our clinic and got her the help she needed. Now there is a flourishing church there and a school. I've been there at least three times. Each time constructing on the conference center and helping in the medical clinics.

Having established a pattern in my life we have since partnered with dear friends who have given up their lives to train young pastors to study the Bible and sustain themselves while going to the farthest reaches of Africa to share the gospel. Not often enough some have gone to visit them and serve with them. We are the ones who stay behind with the stuff (verse 2-25) and meet those needs the Woottons have which they cannot take care of from the African continent. We are honored to be so trusted.

How can you be involved?

Read about world missions.

Read about culture.

Take a missions training class. It's not just foreign. Missions is right here right now.

Find out who your church supports and build relationships with them.

Ask your church what you can do to serve.

Pray for missionaries in your life.

Let me tell you about...

my Christmas!

No, I don't have grand kids, although I think my kids are grand.. but that doesn't count...

However, I felt it prudent to delay shopping for Christmas for my husband until last Tuesday. Ask me why... I'll never know...

But I finally decided to buy what I knew he wanted two weeks before. I asked my cousin's husband (He's an Executive Chef... there's more to the story, but today - that's enough.) and he recommended the Cadillac of mandolins for my husband. (Mandolin: Food slicer [use the word food lightly and with a grain of salt... HA!]). That was an excellent decision. What happened next is one for the history books.

I had an epiphany of sorts... since I procrastinated so well, I might as well go all the way and get the "knock off" brand from "you know where". $10 bucks would do the trick and Kent would have all the mandolin he needed for Christmas day (along with at least one package to open - he only gets 1.5 per year, you know). I tucked a picture of the Cadillac into the box, wrapped it up and waited for Christmas morning where nothing is ever as it seems at the Johnson River House.

After all the excitement with three boys opening presents as slowly as they could... Kent and I leaped to the kitchen. I pulled my sous chef duties diligently until the time for the shallots. I just had to see how well it worked... If only I had stuck with the plan... Even now I pay the price twice for stepping out of line. I can't type anything correctly. This is painful. Not only that but I can't raise my arm over my head - why do Tetanus shots hurt so bad?

Now the shallots are ruined, red onions for risotto will have to do. But all is not lost, I didn't have to wash a single dish all day. I took a neighbor to the brink of passing out. I might have done so as well if I'd thought of how bad it must be for hemophiliacs... It's a scary thing to not be able to get blood to quit flowing! I spent the next 6 hours entertaining (use it loosely, we just had a great time with family and friends... we entertain each other.) my oarentsm my brither [see there it goes again. Retry: parents, my brother] and his family, and many of our neighbors (note not all!). My finger was well secured and still not going numb and not contaminating what I did touch. You'd think I'd have taken an hour or two out of the day to visit Patient's first, but that wasn't what we wanted for Christmas and it wasn't flowing freely, just when it was agitated... so I could wait until it was time to do dishes (I wouldn't be able to help anyway!) and my brother was leaving - he graciously gave me a ride to town and I listened to the silliest stories I've ever heard with my fantastic nieces!

The Dr. was amazed (lots of words to use loosely - are doctors ever amazed at people?) , perhaps dumbfounded, that I waited 7 hours to get aid for my finger tip. One glance, two pairs of gloves, a snip of the gel foam and a square if gauze later he was out of sight... When what to my wondering eyes should appear, two nurses one with gauze and tape, the other with a needle for the already ailing right side (my choice not her's). They were ganging up on me!

Not to worry. In a minute my finger was wrapped in beautiful white tubular gauze and I was on my way home.. oh wait, how did I get home? Let me tell you about my kid's Grandpa - yeah that's my dad. In the rainy, foggy, cold Christmas night he ventured out to drive me home!

This post is long enough, but I cannot end without clarifying he drove me home for the dessert that remained at my house. My neighbors cleaned the whole mess we made. I'm now stopping so I can research Kevlar gloves for our family - all five of us... we'll need it!

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