A Joyful Army of Six

A Temporal Blessing

2009-02-26T18:28:00.000-08:00

This is a recent essay by Brandt, commemorating our First Amendment freedom of religion, given in the Bill of Rights. We're studying American history this year. It was a gratifying moment to see Brandt's knowledge of history, government, and his testimony of faith merge together. He's obviously listening and observing our lives all the time. What a humbling thought!

A Temporal Blessing
By Brandt Bergeron

During a 2007 survey, 42% of all Americans claimed to be “born-again” Christians. Of that dwindling number, a whopping 37% firmly stated that their personal belief was that their good works could get them into heaven (Barna Research Group)! Correspondingly, the First Amendment of the Bill of Rights grants Americans freedom the practice their unorthodox faith freely. Yet, according to the Bible, what is true religion?

I believe in a triune and perfect God, who created the universe. By his sovereign grace, He ordained that I would be His joyful servant. I believe that the three persons of this everlasting godhead, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, exist in unchangeable unity of relationship. I hold it to be true that They desire to bring people into this relationship. I must praise God every moment of my life, because He commands, desires and owns this praise, for He created me. Because my praise is imperfect, by faith alone I must trust that Jesus makes the way for God to accept my worship. I pray each day to Jesus, who sacrificed His body for me on the cross like a meek lamb. I read the Bible, God’s holy word. I make it my aim not to be oppressed by servile trepidation of the Lord. On the contrary, I should bear nothing but filial affection and fear toward my Heavenly Father. God’s grace moves through me to bless others. His grace abounds incessantly. By dying on the cross, Jesus redeemed me from slavery to sin, in order to bring me and other sinners into eternal blessing. Undeniably, one of the temporal blessings He has given me, as an American, is my First Amendment freedom of faith. The numbers fight against biblical Christians. In fact, the whole world is licking its chops trying to catch Christians off-guard. However, “If God is for us, who can be against us?” (Romans 8:31)

Nana's Famous O-Bone Roast

2009-02-05T09:15:00.000-08:00

We have a pretty incredible selection of pasture-raised beef in our part of the world. The Prather Ranch isn't far away and several of my friends in the community raise cattle for beef, nearly all of it organic--though not certified. Right now, our family has a freezer full of beef. Although we all tend to think of roasts as a special occasion or a Sunday meal, I love them for their hands-off nature. Once you've dredged the meat and seared it to get a good crust, the oven does the rest of the work for you. You need a roast with the bone in. This increases nutrition (think bone broth) and taste considerably. You’ll probably have to ask your butcher for a bone-in roast. Ask for an O-bone or a 7-bone roast.

This recipe belongs to my Nana, one of the best cooks I know.

Salt the roast well and dredge it in flour.
Preheat oven to 325 (do NOT use convection setting).
In a large Dutch oven, heat about 2 Tablespoons grapeseed oil or coconut oil (both have a high smoke point so will not produce free radicals when heated to high) to high heat.
Sear roast 4 minutes per side or until a light crust forms. This takes some wrestling with hands, spatula, and cooking fork.
Remove from heat and set in a large roasting pan.
Turn heat off.
Skin 4 cloves garlic and slice in half.
Pierce crust of roast with a knife and insert garlic cloves evenly throughout.
Slice 2 onions in halves and place in the bottom of the pan.
Prepare several whole carrots (washed, scrubbed).
Prepare several whole potatoes (washed, scrubbed, halved).
Place roast back in Dutch oven on top of onions.
Fill in empty spaces with potatoes and carrots.
Fill pan with about 1 inch of water.
Salt and pepper vegetables well.
Pop on the lid and place in oven.
Check after 1 1/2 hours to see if water level is adequate.
Return to oven for another 1 to 1 1/2 hours or until roast is tender. Remove from oven.
Remove vegetables from pan to a platter.
Slice roast into serving size pieces. Add to platter.
Add onions to platter.
Pour pan juices over and salt to taste.

Our Resident Theologian

2009-01-10T15:16:00.000-08:00

Seth, our third in line at age 6, is often inadvertently hilarious. It seems the only time the Bergerons are funny is when they aren't trying!

There's been a lot of fanfare in our home over the national championship; Seth likes Tim Tebow from the Florida Gators because he's a Christian. A couple days ago, Seth said to Brian (you have to imagine his high-pitched voice): "Dad, do you think Tim Tebow is a credobaptist or a paedobaptist?" Yes, seriously.

Fast forward about a week: Brian was preparing to send a copy of Given For You, Recovering Calvin's Doctrine of the Lord's Supper, to "Pastor Ryan" of Desert Springs Church, the church we attended with our friends in Albuquerque. Seth, reflecting upon our time in Albuquerque, quipped to Brian, "Daddy, Desert Springs Church was a good church. I liked Pastor Ryan, even if he did have a Zwinglian view of the Lord's Supper!"

A Story by Brandt

2008-11-21T21:17:00.000-08:00

This is Brandt's version of the Boston Tea Party story. You can see many of the same ideas and word choices as they both took from the same source document. But the style is different. As are the metaphors, similes and word choices. My favorite metaphor in Brandt's is "pickled vengeance." He worked hard for that one!

The Boston Tea Party
a story by Brandt Bergeron

In December, 1773, a cool evening had developed in the congested streets of Boston. Abnormally, the regularly clamorous crowds seemed tense, as though waiting for something. People conversed in hushed tones. Ten-year-old Paul stood with his elder brother, who was a member of the impassioned Sons of Liberty, waiting. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen but he knew that it had to do with the three sleek British ships, bursting with tea, lying in the harbor like still and defiant rebels.

According to rumor, Paul’s father had told him that the Exasperating Roadblock, King George of England, had taxed the colonies greatly on items such as paper goods, ink, lead, and, most of all, tea. The governor enforced taxes cruelly. Fuming colonists despised it. They became indignant. Determinedly, they refused to buy highly taxed items and felt cheated and angry and demanded that the recent shipment of tea to the colonies be sent back to England at once. However, the unrelenting governor stated that, “The King’s orders are imperative to right living and that, to obey them properly, the tea must be completely unloaded by the night of December 16.” Tonight was that very night.

Suddenly, dozens of “indians” wove warily through the crowds. As they passed, Paul realized that the “indians,” who were carrying axes, weren’t Indians at all. They were the Sons of Liberty! They boarded the ships. Then came an ominous noise . . . “Whack! Crack! Split! Splash!” After a few moments, the pungent scent of tea and sea water filled the night air like pickled vengeance. A cry broke out and people began to chant wildly, “Rally Indians! Bring your axes, and tell King George we’ll pay no taxes!” Paul was certain that the disdainful King George would understand this bitter message.

A Story by Gresham

2008-11-21T21:08:00.001-08:00

The following is one of the promised writing samples from Gresham, our 8 year old. This is a fictional story that he created using his first "decorations," some metaphor/similes and three short staccato sentences. There are three similes in the story and they're as easy to spot as a yellow polka dot bikini in a sea of Oregon corduroy (pardon my late night attempt at the same).

The Boston Tea Party
a story by Gresham Bergeron

It was December, 1773. Colonists roamed the streets. They fumed. Patiently, Paul sat transfixed on a lumpy bench watching the crowd walk past. His brother was one of the irate Sons of Liberty, and had told him something exciting was about to happen. Above the tumult, mischievous Paul dallied like a dejected street urchin. He guessed the hullabaloo had something to do with the three towering ships in the harbor, which were loaded with British tea. These were cargo ships.

King George taxed the tea. Colonists calmly refused to buy. King George raged. Colonists felt cheated and angry. Concerning the matter, they told the governor, who acted like a puppet, to take the loathed tea back to England. But foolishly the flimsy governor said, “The King’s orders must be obeyed,” and the tea had to be unloaded like an autumn tree taking off its leaves by December 16th. That was tonight.

About this time, the crowd started to stir and 100 queer “indians” broke through the crowd like grim gila monsters. Paul comprehended they were obviously carrying axes. Then in the moonlight, the Sons of Liberty boarded the ships. Whack, whack, whack! Openly the “indians” endeavored to chop open the chests of British tea and discard the boxes into the harbor. The scent of tea was in the air. The people started to chant, “Rally Indians! Bring your axes, and tell King George we’ll pay no taxes.” Paul knew King George would understand this message. Paul sensed conflict had begun.

Why This Mom Treasures a Writing Program

2008-11-03T21:04:00.001-08:00

Institute for Excellence in Writing has been a Knight in Shining Armor to this mother of three boys! I know from experience being around other children that our three boys have what might even be termed "verbal gifts"--perhaps sometimes in excess. But they are still boys. Boys do not like to write. Or maybe I should say that boys do like writing but would prefer to do anything else except write, if given the opportunity. Baseball calls. The green golf course beckons. Pencils are a thrall around the neck of a boy's desire for wide open spaces and the free exercise of their Outside Voices. Or, as Andrew Pudewa, the Atascadero-based commander in chief of IEW would say, "Boys know that the Whole Point of Life is to build forts."

So how did I, one lone mother in a sea of requests for special non-writing dispensations and the doleful pleas of writing callouses, manage to pull off not one, but TWO, reports on colonial life in two short weeks? The answer is in the IEW curriculum's sequential checklist format, its practice-until-you-master-it mentality, and its refusal to go the open-ended blank page creative writing route of most curricula. In week one, both Brandt and Gresham checked out several sources from the library children's section (research skills too!) Then they read the sources to one another while I made dinner in an entirely different room! Please don't tell anyone that I left my homeschooled children unattended. In so doing, the boys each collected their own key word outline of useful and most interesting facts about their topics (colonial travel and colonial houses). From this key word outline, they wrote one sentence after another until they ran out of facts. Then the paragraph was done. Whew! Did I really expect them to write THREE paragraphs? And how!

Thus far we're in Week 9 of our Classical Conversations-based IEW program. The "dress-ups" introduced to the children are
1. A quality adjective
2. An -ly word (adverb)
3. A strong verb
4. A who/which clause (adjectival clause)

The sentence openers introduced to this point are
1. A very short sentence
2. An adverbial (-ly) opener
3. A prepositional phrase opener

My goodness, are we learning English grammar too? Why didn't I ever hear the word "adverbial" before I was 35?

Because these dress-ups and openers are introduced gradually and practiced in every single paragraph every single week, my boys are finally to the point where they know how to find the better word choices and the clearer clauses and phrases for themselves. In the first week, their assignments were twice the work for me as for them. We literally spent HOURS every day trying to write what I began to think of as "That Insufferable Poem About America." My husband taught the writing one morning while I was at the dentist and claimed it was "the hardest thing he'd ever done in his life (F-15 training notwithstanding)." I have to admit secretly that the dentist was a decent excuse for a break that week. But that front-loaded work of explaining over and over again is now paying dividends.

Another step we took from the beginning was to write in a notebook our own collection of quality adjectives, strong verbs, -ly words and rousing nouns. While the boys often fail to find the word they're needing in these collections, I find that the suggestions get their writing genes up and stretching. At this point, I still answer PLENTY of their questions--but they're along the following lines: "Is it okay to put a prepositional phrase here?" or "Is this an adjectival clause?" or "Do I put a 'who' or a 'which' after this noun?" Compare these questions to the statements of desolate boys facing a blank page of creative "leaders:" "I don't know what to write." "This is dumb." "I have a writing callous from that last baseball game." And now you see why I've been prompted to wax eloquent over the idea of a writing program.

Additionally, the boys have learned how to formulate a topic sentence and restate it at the end of the paragraph in a "clincher." You may notice some of the clumsier attempts in the writing samples I plan to publish here over the next week. You will probably chuckle at the dressiness of some of the dress-ups ("They tied the thrilled horse to the post." Yes, it was in fact a "strong adjective.") However, a 'tween girl never learns how to expertly apply her makeup without some initial clumsy attempts involving glitter and blue eyeshadow, right?

A Letter to a Friend: A Sermon and a Book

2008-10-27T07:25:00.000-07:00

I received your e-mail a few weeks ago and I was thrilled to know that it encouraged you in some way. Our family has been reading a book about Mikhail Khorev, a Russian pastor who was imprisoned for years during the time of the Soviet communist regime in Russia. The book is called “A Small Price to Pay” and is published through Christian Light. It’s not particularly well-written but it’s so interesting, gripping and inspiring that you can get beyond the mundane writing style rather quickly. Brian will read us the last chapter tonight and I can’t wait to see what happens. . .

In a parallel fashion (often the way God works—two or more concurrent events/moments in our lives that reinforce His point), Dr. Richard Gaffin, recently retired from Westminster Seminary in Philadelphia, preached a sermon on Matthew 6:24-45: “Do Not Worry.” In the sermon, Dr. Gaffin said that the antidote to anxiety is prayer and thankfulness (from Philippians where Paul exhorts us to take our requests to God with thanksgiving). Worry cannot live in an environment of prayer and thankfulness. Additionally, a pastor/counselor friend of ours at church suggested some very recent scientific research which reported that the emotions of anxiety and gratitude are so mutually exclusive that they cannot subsist concurrently in the human brain! I’m not sure how these scientists measure such a thing but it is always ironic when Science concludes to be true what God Word has asserted from eternity past.

I apprehended more of this Truth as I contemplated how long and how often Mikhail prayed, sang, and thanked God while in prison. He never had time to dwell on the possibility of being beaten (he was not), tortured (he was not), or shot in the head (he was not) because He was so busy thanking the Lord for the small comforts and asking God how he could be used of Him while in prison. Strangely enough, Mikhail never asked the Lord to be delivered from prison. Even on the night when he laid in solitary confinement (he was in “The Hole” 15 days at a time for over 100 days during the course of his imprisonment) forcing himself to stay awake because, if he did not, he would fall to floor and his skin would affix permanently to the frozen grate, killing him slowly—even on that night—he felt there were three choices left to him: he could pray to be back home with his wife and children, he could pray to die, or he could pray that God would work His will through him. He prayed for the latter. The next day he was taken from “The Hole” and allowed a warm shower.

I hope that the Lord heartens you again with this sermon and a story that has so inspired me of late. A similar day of reckoning for Christians in this country may be sooner than I think. Or perhaps not. Despite the circumstances, I want to be characterized by Christ’s peace in the midst of suffering and the serenity of uncompromised Truth. Yet even the possibility of a cold shower or a night in the open fills me with dread. How much more of Christ I must have to face the days ahead—even if they are as relatively peaceful and prosperous as the last 36 years of my life!

In Jesus’ love,
Cara

For Classical Homeschoolers: A Laugh

2008-10-24T16:56:00.000-07:00

I absolutely had to share this hysterical moment with you. Perhaps it was the hour of the day and the fact that we’d been doing IEW for at least 90 minutes—but I laughed so hard I nearly cried.

A teeny bit of history: we’ve been looking at Latin derivatives and were discussing, just this week, that the most proper meaning for the word “vulgar” is the definition “common.” I think I probably did explain that it has come to mean “offensive, indecent, risque, etc.”--unfortunately a biting commentary upon American “common” culture. Nevertheless, I wanted them to understand that the word comes from the Latin word “vulgus”--for “common people.”

Given that history, the next part might now be funny to you: Brandt and I were working to finish his second paragraph for “Houses in Colonial America,” his Essentials oral report/writing assignment for this week and the next. He had written most of the sentence but needed my help finishing it.

“Rooms in colonial homes often served a dual purpose; when the colonists put their rooms ‘to rest’ by moving all of the furniture to the walls, then they could use them . . .”

I was playing teacher, trying to draw out some ideas: “Brandt, what types of things did the colonists do after they’d put their rooms ‘to rest?’”

Brandt: “Uh . . . Normal things?”

Me: “Like?”

Brandt: “by moving all of the furniture to the walls, then they could use them . . . for vulgar purposes.”

Perhaps the funniest part was the bewildered look on his face when I began to chuckle and then giggle and then choke with laughter. I’ll leave the funny rating to you. If you’ve had a long week of schooling—or if you are a grandparent who, by definition, thinks that everything is adorable, I hope it makes you smile!

In Light of the Debates and Upcoming Election

2008-10-17T21:27:00.000-07:00

I literally stumbled upon this poem today by Rudyard Kipling. I've read it before but it never trounced me with such a twanging chord as it did today. I've been so busy schooling the kids recently that I've not heard every jot and tittle from Palin and Obama. But I've heard enough that Stanza 4 had me praying Kipling's words. . .

RECESSIONAL
by Rudyard Kipling

God of our fathers, known of old—
Lord of our far-flung battle line—
Beneath whose awful hand we hold
Dominion over palm and pine—
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget—lest we forget!!

The tumult and the shouting dies—
The Captains and the Kings depart—
Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice,
An humble and a contrite heart.
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget—lest we forget!!

Far-called our navies melt away—
On dune and headland sinks the fire—
Lo, all our pomp of yesterday
Is one with Nineveh and Tyre!
Judge of the Nations, spare us yet,
Lest we forget—lest we forget!!

If, drunk with sight of power, we loose
Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe—
Such boastings as the Gentiles use,
Or lesser breeds without the Law—
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget—lest we forget!!

For heathen heart that puts her trust
In reeking tube and iron shard—
All valiant dust that builds on dust,
And guarding calls not Thee to guard.
For frantic boast and foolish word,
Thy Mercy on Thy People, Lord!!

Amen.

Sunday: Blue Mountains and Back

2008-08-18T19:12:00.000-07:00

Sunday: Mount Victoria and Mount Tomah, Blue Mountains

Sunday morning we checked out of our hotel and drove to Mount Victoria to St. Peter’s Anglican Church for services. I snapped a few photos of the outside of the building, built of stone in 1891. According to Brian, my resident counter of all things, there were 21 other people, all Australian, worshipping with us. The temperature in the old building, despite the space heaters mounted to the walls, was frigid--so that I actually saw my breath in the church. As Brian said after the service and the following “bit of tea,” “It’s always great to see what the Lord is doing amongst Christians all over the world.”

The highlight of my Australian experience, thus far, was that trip to church. We were at least a full 30 years younger than anyone else in the service, so I’m not sure if this is the reason; but I’ve never seen so much tweed in one place in all my life. And if you’re wondering about the fashion viability of plaid wool pants, they are apparently alive and kicking on this continent. A kind and quiet woman named Mary poured my tea and it was her friendly husband Peter who was wearing the pants in question. Truly, I must have experienced this new world by now! Despite our obvious differences, we sang hymns that were familiar to us and the two passages of scripture preached by the rector were from Jeremiah 31 and Hebrews 10—two passages we’ve been studying side-by-side in our weekly Klamath Falls bible study. Christ is certainly alive and kicking throughout the world and the Church belongs to Him!

Thus far, the Australian people seem the friendliest on earth. Yes, they really do call each other “mate” and they do say “no worries.” They also say “hi” for “Hello” and “ta” for “thank you.” A “hike” is always referred to as “a bushwalk” and their expression “very nice” is just as likely to be misinterpreted in Australia as it is in the States. Australians are difficult to understand when excited and speak a bit louder than Americans, if that is possible.

After church we made a quick drive back to Blackheath for a spectacular breakfast. Brian had what he called The Vegetarian Special—lamb chop, sausage, bacon and poached eggs! I had an omelet—what the kids call “A Three Egger.” We finished with two slices of banana bread, a favorite over here, covered with ricotta cheese. Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it, America!

From Blackheath, we drove the Bells Line of Road to Mount Tomah Botanical Gardens, truly the most beautiful and extensive gardens I’ve ever seen in my life. The gardens were gifted to the people of New South Wales by a plant-loving family in 1972 and have been extensively developed since by the Royal Botanical Gardens of Sydney. Included in their collection is over 800 species of rhododendron, only one or two of which were in bloom. However, there were bulbs, lavender, heathers, flannel bush, red flame and some large succulents in bloom. The foliage and texture juxtapositions and the grandeur of the mature trees and moss-covered boulders were all so spectacular that it more than made up for the lack of flowers. We walked the grounds for about 4 ½ hours and both agreed that it was, perhaps, the most dazzling thing we’ve seen since arriving in Australia.

The drive back over the Bells Line of Road (an old Aborigine trail) was full of quaint orchards, rolling hills, and pastoral scenery aplenty. But swiftly the scenery took a nosedive as we headed past Richmond—graffiti, mass commercialization, metal fencing, strip malls and industrial debris have all taken their visual (and otherwise) toll on Australia as they have in the States. We finally made it back to our hotel—after missing a major turn—around 8PM and watched the finals for the women’s individual vault competition before crawling into bed at 9:30.

Saturday: Blue Mountains

2008-08-18T18:50:00.000-07:00

Saturday: Leura, Everglades Gardens and Blackheath, Blue Mountains

Awake by 4:30, we packed quickly and made a killer egg and bacon sandwich for our breakfast. Even after checking e-mail, we were on the road by 6:15 and had arrived in Leura, Blue Mountains (west of Sydney), by 10:30. We bought a great little hiking/bushwalk guide to the Blue Mountains at the Visitor Centre. It was very expensive at $32—much more than you would expect to pay for a book in the U.S. The best part about the book is at the end—an illustrated guide to the flora and fauna of Australia.

Our first stop in Leura was on the recommendation of the concierge at our hotel. He emphatically recommended, with ample and amusing body language, that we eat at The Red Door café. He implied, with said body language and Australian nuance-- much of which was lost on me--that most of the cafes in Leura are places to “get taken” and are full of pretentious snobs. The Red Door, on the other hand, has barristas second to none (who, apparently, are often drafted for the Sydney café scene) and “hearty food, honest food.” After eating a hearty, honest breakfast there with the most amazing Earl Gray tea I’ve ever had in my life, I can at least vouch for the tea and the ham/feta/tomato omelet with pesto mushrooms, if not the coffee or anything else. Tea is well-done in this country, served in a small teapot with cream and sugar and a saucer and spoon. You can while away at least an hour with a friend and a $3 investment in tea.

After tea, we did some looking into the little jewels of shops in Leura. But our step into a used bookstore owned by a friendly French monsieur was our doom—or at least that’s probably how it felt from Brian’s perspective. Ah, the trials of being married to a bibliophile! About to leave, I “just happened” to spot a very small little brown book with an inscription from 1862: “A prize awarded to Emily Puill from the Sabbath School Rope Creek (as best catechism scholar) Christmas Day 1862.” The title of the book was “First Steps in General Knowledge: Vegetable Kingdom.” Immediately, I was engrossed in this book—a botany course for children in the form of a conversation between a Christian father and his children. I could not put the book down, even as Brian was politely trying to extricate my body from this too-cosy, too-inviting little shop with all the romance and atmosphere of a European vacation. Poor man! Not only books—but now a book on botany. The combination was too irresistible. I raised pleading eyes to his as he spied the $30 price tag. Of course from Brian’s perspective, it could only get better, the closer we came to payment and a quick escape. But no! Monsieur had just spent the past month acquiring all but one of the titles in the series, one of them a rare first edition. And so we left with Brian’s wallet $150 Australian dollars lighter and carrying all but one in the series: Vegetable Kingdom, Mineral Kingdom, Animal Kingdom, and The Starry Heavens—all written and published by Clarendon Press, Oxford “For the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge.” Our nighttime reading with Dad routine will be amply enriched for the coming years.

After the bookstore, we decided against looking into the shop scene any further and proceeded to Everglades Gardens, now a public trust garden in Australia. This garden was once built and owned by a Sydney businessman of Belgian descent named Henry Van de Velde. The garden was designed and overseen by Paul Sorensen, a Dane with big vision. The garden was spectacular—with unobstructed views in places of the grandeur of the Blue Mountain sandstone cliffs, with huge rhododendrons, with giant moss-covered boulders and perfectly puzzled stone walls, with a man-made fern grotto that looks entirely natural, with stately Eucalyptus trees and bulbs everywhere. In another week or two, the entire garden will be in riotous bloom. For now we were content to observe the grand garden bones without the bloom and to enjoy the little that was in bloom. Visual texture has been mastered in this garden. The pictures say so much more than I could.

Post-garden, we continued to Blackheath, another town in the Blue Mountains, to see their version of the Grand Canyon. We took a taxing (for me) bushwalk to a spectacular lookout as the sun was getting low on the horizon. The shadow play was tremendous. The photos will never do it justice. This canyon is much smaller than our Grand Canyon—but a gynormous (Eva’s word) tribute to the creative hand of God once again. The bottom of the canyon is covered with blue gum (Eucalyptus) trees which exude an oil that gives the mountains the name of “blue.”

After a quick look in Blackheath at some of their shops and cafes, we made it to Katoomba—Tourism Central for the Blue Mountains—to view Australia’s version of The Three Sisters as the sun began its setting. It was perfect picture-taking time but also superbly chilly. Our “booking” for Indian food was sounding inviting. . .

Once again, we were tucked in bed by 8 PM.

Friday: Port Stephens/Salamander Bay

2008-08-17T18:37:00.000-07:00

This morning we were awake by 3:30 and starving. Brian told me I ought to go back to sleep. I replied that I could not stay in that bed one moment longer—and he agreed. After a shower and a quick check on e-mail, our tummies were complaining. We called the front desk to find out when the grocery store opened: 8:00. But Australia is not the land of “Open 24 Hours.” The restaurant was open by 7, so we decided against making our own breakfast this morning. 3 ½ hours to go before we could eat—and, of course, no snacks because we were not traveling with the kids.

After a leisurely breakfast at the restaurant, Brian met the Klamath Falls team and made his way to RAAF Williamtown. I settled in for a long morning of work—answering e-mail mostly. But then the Unexpected: I could receive my e-mail but I could not send. It’s a helpless feeling to have directors with questions and to have the answers so close to me but so far from them. We’re still working the “send” issue and hope to have it resolved by Monday.

I spent the rest of the morning going to the grocery store and watching Andrew Pudewa of Institute for Excellence in Writing. It seems I have to travel 6000 miles to find enough time for Andrew.

The grocery store was an insight into quotidian Australian culture. It was a Woolworth’s grocery store! Much about Australian material culture is a throwback to the 1980s in America. The “Target” was much along the lines of the first Target I visited with Mom in 1984. The store signage is very red, white, blue, and plastic with large sans serif type abounding. The grocery store had many American and European products—and vegetables larger than any I’ve ever seen in the U.S. By the time I arrived at the store, I was already hungry for a burrito; but requests for pinto beans produced a strange look and the suggestion that I try the health food aisle. Candy is referred to as “confectionery.” Bacon comes in a “rasher.” Gas is “petrol.” Dog food is not dry but fresh and comes in huge chubs. Lamb hearts are also available in plenty for canine consumption, a fact that was lost on me until I’d contemplated for at least 3 minutes how one might cook a lamb heart.

At noon I was able to Skype with the kids—which was gratifying for all of us. I gave them a 360 degree tour of our bedroom (the internet access is plug-in, not Wi-Fi) and we chatted about Australia and their newly acquired golf gloves for 25 minutes.

Brian returned to our apartment around 2:00 and we set off for the famous beaches of Port Stephens. We walked along Shoal Bay for about an hour. The water was actually warm enough to swim and beautifully clear, though I didn’t have the faith to bring my swimsuit. I collected some shells for the kids and enjoyed the feel of squeaky white sand under my feet—after a two year hiatus. We returned on the footpath streetside and were startled to see an abundance of jazzy rainbow lorikeets flying from tree to tree. That same day, I also spotted a yellow cockatoo flying around as plainly as you might observe a seagull in the U.S.

After our “bushwalk on the beach” (is that a contradiction?), we had dinner with two of Brian’s teammates at Soldier Point. It was one of “those meals”—an incredible 270 degree view of the sunset over the water, an exceptional waitress, dazzlingly fresh fish, good conversation and a perfectly relaxed pace.

Again, Friday night we were asleep by 8:00.

Departure & Arrival in Sydney

2008-08-17T17:08:00.000-07:00

The next few posts will be about my trip to Australia with Brian. First time ever out of the country without our children. First time apart for more than three days. . . We miss you guys!!!

Tuesday night: Flight to Sydney
We boarded the plane at LAX with heavy hearts. Eva had begun vomiting one hour before we left for the airport and we did not relish the thought of being out of contact with Mimi and Papa for the 15 hours that were to come. Our flight on Qantas was quite nice—not plentiful leg room but adequate, in-seat entertainment, fairly comfortable sleeping conditions (we slept nearly 8 hours) and a large crew of Aussie flight attendants, nearly all of them men!

Toward the end of our flight, while waiting for the bathroom, we met a native Australian named Deb—who now lives in Bend, Oregon! She was very sweet and even came back to our seat to hand us her business card, asking us to look her and her husband up next time we’re in Bend! What a surprise she’ll have when we’re there next—with our four children!

Thursday morning: Arrival in Sydney
We arrived at 7:30 AM Australia time and disembarked with phone in hand, hoping to call home ASAP. We were able to get in touch with Mimi, who said that Eva was still vomiting occasionally but not yet listless and still taking ice chips, some drinks, and complaining of hunger. Those were all promising signs—even great ones—but my mother’s heart rebelled at being 6000 miles away from our baby.

After a mixup with the rental cars for our party from Klamath Falls (they were downtown), we finally had our baggage through customs and our car—a Toyota of sorts. We headed off to the Aquarium with good directions but nevertheless managed to become lost in inner-city traffic moving the “wrong” way. Darling Harbour in Sydney is extensive, with fingers into what seems like every part of the city. My favorite quote (Brian): “All we need to do is to find the Harbour and we’ll be there.” We found the harbour—several times. We even found the Ian Thorpe Swimming Center. By the time we arrived at the Aquarium, I was well-versed in the terrors of turning right in a drive-on-left country, apparently into oncoming traffic. Brian’s least favorite quote (Cara, shrieked while turning right): “Aaaaaahh!!!!!!”

The Aquarium was nicely set up, with displays and aquariums for each of the wetland and ocean regions of Australia. We were able to observe a platypus, a snake neck turtle (just like it sounds), a behemoth saltwater croc, myriad eels, and a psychedelic assortment of Great Barrier Reef fish and organisms.

After the Aquarium we wound our way (all driving in New South Wales feels like winding) up the coast to Newcastle, where we had a meal at Brian’s favorite restaurant, Goldberg’s. This place was amazing to an American but actually quite typical of Australia. It’s a coffee shop that serves real food and real atmosphere in equal proportion. Water was “serve yourself.” Brian had a healthy portion of pasta with real veggies and meat. I had a generous bowl of dahl with raita and rice. Well-filled chalkboards and antique playbills filled the walls of the place. Baked goods were stacked high. Prices were very reasonable by Australian dining standards—around $15 each for lunch.

Post-Newcastle, we drove past several farms to our resort—more on the model of corporate apartments surrounding a giant circular pool. Our little apartment at the Oaks Pacific Blue Resort Salamander Bay is so pleasant--very clean and comfortable with somewhat-central heat (it is chilly), an outfitted kitchen, a living room, bedroom, closets, and bath. Even the bed is comfortable. Apparently many of these units are privately owned and rented when not in use. Compared to lodging prices in Sydney and Blue Mountains, the overnight price is stellar—a bit over $100 per night and the ability to cook in your own place. We were in bed and asleep by 7:00.

A New Post!!! Life Lessons from Golf

2008-08-06T20:53:00.000-07:00

In the past six weeks, Brandt, Gresham, and Seth have been decidedly blessed by the Running Y's Youth Golf program. Not only were they all able to take lessons (yes, Seth too!) when Grandpa came to visit at the end of June; they since have been allowed to golf 9 holes every day of their choosing after 3PM--for a rock-bottom rate. Two weeks ago, we went out as a family on a Sunday afternoon and golfed together. Eva and I walked the course and the boys, including Brian, all played. Here are a few lessons I learned along the way:

1. It is possible for four boys/men to be quiet at once--if there is competition involved.

2. There is much to be said of the male capacity for imagination--if there is competition involved.

3. Boys and men are capable of encouraging one another without the persistence of a woman--but congratulating a friend on his double bogey (2 over par) is probably not the best way to start.

4. Thrust without vector makes for cringeworthy exhibition.

5. Multitasking is when you get in a long walk and a suntan with four children in tow.

6. Ruthless focus is at least one requisite element of success.

7. Walking nine holes took us nearly three hours: "For this fragrant oil might have been sold for much and given to the poor." Matthew 26:9. Time is a luxurious commodity in 2008. It is for pouring out on the rich blessing of people.

Update on Evangeline

2008-01-28T22:29:00.000-08:00

Our visit with the metabolic specialist in Portland was really wonderful. He spent 1 1/2 hours talking with me and, after looking Eva over thoroughly and talking about her past problems, he said that he does believe that there is something metabolic going on but that he doesn't believe their more drastic testing will turn up the proverbial "needle in the haystack." Instead, he seems to think that her body, when she gets sick, just burns through carbs so quickly that she immediately begins to burn fat as sugar. When that happens the body produces ketones and the ketones cause her brain to think that something deadly is occuring and that it needs to get rid of the problem. So she vomits more. When she vomits that further depletes her body of sugar/carbs and she burns more fat, producing more ketones in a vicious cycle until she's finally ketoacidotic and has to have vast amounts of fluids in order to recover.

For some reason her body is tricking itself and the metabolic doctor seems to be okay with the lack of explanation. He sees much more complicated developmental and neurological cases every day. He did, however, say that usually kids like Eva grow out of their metabolic condition and that he doesn't routinely see teenagers coming in with this same problem. The explanation was not, however, good enough for our local pediatrician who has now referred her to an endocrinologist. I haven't yet seen the results for her liver function test or her metabolic panel or her urinalysis. I'm hoping to get those tomorrow.

While we were in Southern California last Monday we had the opportunity to test the metabolic specialists "management techniques." Eva began to vomit (the other kids and Brian were sick as well). This time we were able to start her Zofran a few hours into the vomiting and it was controlled with 1 1/2 doses (I only give her 1/2 dose at a time). We were able to get a bunch of juice/water mixture into her so that her body had some carbs to burn and we avoided the dehydration and listlessness and eventual rundown of past episodes. Praise the Lord for this!

On Friday, we discovered that either Eva's never been tested for celiac disease as we thought she had been or the results have been lost. So I took her for a celiac blood panel at our local hospital. I also took Seth & Gresham for the same. After talking to several friends whose kids all have celiac disease, and too many doctors saying to me, "Are you sure Eva's been tested for celiac?" I finally took the hint that I believe the Lord was giving and asked to get them all tested. The one thing that I sincerely ask any of you reading this to pray for is an ACCURATE test result for these panels. The blood tests for celiac are often inaccurate or inconclusive as the results depend heavily on eating gluten beforehand so that the immunological response can be determined. Since we're not eating a diet with much gluten at all, it's dubious that the results will read well. However, both Brian and I believe that the Lord has brought us to this place and that the conversations and testing were signs from Him to pursue this lead. At this point I wouldn't exactly WELCOME a celiac diagnosis; but I do feel like it would give us hope for a better prognosis.

It's not that we second-guess the Lord's perfect plan. He is still working in our family and in each of us as individuals as we go through the allergies and the new diets and the blood tests and the doctors together. It's just that thinking and researching and making appointments, meeting with doctors takes up so much precious time. We really want to get beyond this "wondering stage" so that we can walk more simply in obedience--and so that we can walk forward instead of in circles--even if it means we'll never have another slice of homemade bread or a beer again. We have faith that the Lord will not leave us to wander the Sinai peninsula forever!

All My Heart - Christmas Day

2007-12-25T15:10:00.001-08:00

Hymn #217 Trinity Hymnal: All My Heart This Night Rejoices
A hymn attributed to Paul Gerhardt, 1653
Translated by Catherine Winkworth, 1858

All my heart this night rejoices
As I hear far and near sweetest angel voices.
"Christ is Born," their choirs are singing
Till the air everywhere now with joy is ringing.

Forth today the Conqu'or goeth,
Who the foe, sin and woe, death and hell o'erthroweth.
God is man, man to deliver;
His dear Son now is one with our blood forever

Shall we still dread God's displeasure--
Who to save, freely gave His most cherished Treasure?
To redeem us, He hath given
His own Son from the throne of His might in heaven.

He becomes the Lamb that taketh
Sin away and for aye full atonement maketh.
For our life His own He tenders;
and our race, by His grace, meet for glory renders.

Hark! A voice from yonder manger,
Soft and sweeth, doth entreat, "Flee from woe and danger!
Brethren from all ills that grieve you,
You are freed, all you need I will surely give you!"

Come, then, banish all your sadness
One and all, great and small; come with songs of gladness.
Love Him who with love is glowing;
Hail the star, near and far, light and joy bestowing.

Dearest Lord, thee will I cherish.
Though my breath fail in death, yet I shall not perish,
But with thee abide forever
There on high in that joy which can vanish never.

Brandt (missing two teeth after his clash with the ice skating rink on Friday) with his Campbell's Living Forest series from Grandma and Grandpa. Yes, the teeth were permanent. Thanks much to our dentist, Tim Moore, who saw Brandt immediately on Friday evening following the accident. It remains to be seen if the teeth can be saved.

Evangeline shows off the present that Gresham picked out carefully just for her. This is a tradition we've developed over the past three years. The kids draw each others' names and take some time choosing a gift. This is a huge blessing as we see each of them spend their time and their money to find something thoughtful for their sibling.

The kids show off the zip line that Grandma and Grandpa bought for them.

Eva opening her present from Gresham

Brian and the kids right after they gave him the "Ten Ps in a Pod" present they bought for him

Gresham with the watercolor set that Brandt chose for him. Gresham threw his arms around Brandt and said, "Thanks so much Brandt!" with all of the feeling he could muster. And for Gresham, that is a lot of feeling!

Seth and Eva with the game that Eva "bought" for Seth.

Me, showing off my soft shall jacket that Brian bought for me in Denver

The White Before Christmas--6 Inches of it!!!

2007-12-21T14:57:00.000-08:00

See Below for a Sampling of What was on Our Plates, Our Minds, Our Hearts & Our Technological Devices in 2007

2007-12-19T11:47:00.000-08:00

New on our iPod in 2007

2007-12-19T11:32:00.000-08:00

"The Shadow of Your Wings: Hymns and Sacred Songs" - Fernando Ortega
"The Hidden Face of God" - Michael Card
"Messiah, Oratorio" - London Philharmonic Orchestra & Choir & Walter Susskind
"Classical Conversations Cycle 2 Audio CD" - Don't laugh. There are some rockin' tunes on this one!
"Early American Christmas" - Miller-Rowe Consortium
"Coventry Carols" - The St. Michael's Singers
"Joy for Every Age" - Arcangeli Chamber Chorus and Orchestra
"Dancing Day" - Atlanta Boy Choir
"Psalms of Scotland" - The Scottish Philharmonic Singers
"Ben Hur" - Focus on the Family Radio Theatre
"The Hiding Place" - Focus on the Family Radio Theatre
"Waves of Grace: The Story of John Newton" - Focus on the Family Radio Theatre
"Good Advice" - Jamie Soles
"The Way My Story Goes" - Jamie Soles
"Fun and Prophets" - Jamie Soles
"Help My Unbelief" - Red Mountain Church
"Fun French for Kids" - Beth Manners
"Lingua Angelica: Christian Latin Music and Prayers" - Memoria Press

Safe Sin Management

2007-12-17T16:47:00.000-08:00

The term was coined in a sermon which we heard preached by Mark Sumpter of Faith Orthodox Presbyterian Church in Grants Pass. It sums up the modern Christian's approach to sin. It sums up our every tendency to dilute the concentrated cleansing power of the blood of Christ. I'll try to paraphrase the sermon here as it marked a turning point for our family in the latter part of this year:

When Jesus restores Peter in John 21, He does so after Peter has gone back to fishing. His denial of the truth is now only a distant memory; the scab has hardened. At first, the scab only hurts a bit when Jesus prods Peter: "Simon, son of Jonah, do you love me more than these?" We can only imagine the look on Peter's face: a mix of "Oh, c'mon Jesus do we really have to go here?" with a pinch of startled guilt mixed in.

The sinful scabs that we wear around are most revolting and painful to those around us because they see them more readily than we do. Isaiah (Ch.3) says "...they declare their sin as Sodom; they do not hide it. Woe to their soul! For they have brought evil upon themselves...Because the daughters of Zion are haughty, and walk with outstretched necks and wanton eyes, walking and mincing as they go, making a jingling with their feet, therefore the Lord will strike with a scab the crown of the head of the daughters of Zion, and the Lord will uncover their secret parts."

Peter's still not getting it that Jesus won't be content with cursory treatment. He says to Peter again "Simon son of Jonah, do you love me?" My surmising only but I'm imagining that Peter is getting a little irritated at this point--the sort of irritation that precedes complete humiliation. After all, it's Jesus' business to forgive. It's why He died, isn't it? Let's just forgive and forget--get on with life. Put the fun back in dysfunctional, right? Peter answers Jesus again, "Yes, Lord, you know that I love you." Maybe Peter is gaining insight--an unforgivable sin against an infinite God--but it's not yet recovery.

Jesus then gets really obnoxious with Peter. Which of us 21st century pragmatists would dare to ask our brother the same shameful question not twice but THREE times? And yet there Jesus is--sitting down with Peter, right at his level, loving him with methodical love, questioning him in a methodical sorting out of vice from virtue. We moderns abhor this sort of loving. We don't want a loving father; we want an indulgent father.

But Jesus had to get Peter beyond the safe management of his denial so that he could be useful for the kingdom. If we want to do great things for God, we do well to begin with our sin and with our futile "confessions." We need to stop chuckling about it and using words like "struggle, trouble, problem, and poor choices" and use the real words that remind us of our desperate need for cleansing. Sin is "a scab, prostitution, and iniquity" that mars our entire being. It's not just a blip on the continuum; it's a completely wrong state of things. It permeates everything and leaves it with the rottenness of a dead body. Joshua the high priest sat before Satan and God the Father in "filthy garments" (Zechariah 3). Sin is a corruption that requires a complete remediation, not just plastic wrap to quell the stench.

We do well to let Jesus' spirit sort out for us the vice from the virtue. After Jesus questions Peter the third time, Peter finally repents: "Lord, you know all things: You know that I love you." Jesus says to him: "Feed my sheep." We never get the idea that Jesus is having a little fun with Peter. It's all deadly serious and its serious end is to make Peter the rock upon which He will build the Church. Jesus doesn't tease. He probes below the foundation level of our lives so that He can find that something of value upon which to build. And when He finds it, the realization is that He put it there to begin with. He really does know all things. And He really does sit down in fellowship with us to rid us of the excess and excrement that prevents a stable building process.

This was the first of two Mark Sumpter sermons we heard in 2007 and as we drove back home on Hwy 140, Brian and I sat alternately quiet and then bursting out thoughts in ramshackle fashion. As we approached Klamath Lake, the Holy Spirit was showing me that I make so many excuses for laziness in my life--and laziness is the iniquity (oh, can't I please call it a problem?) that is holding us both back from greater use in the Klamath Basin. We discipline our children for laziness but what sort of discipline will our Heavenly Father be forced to use if we continue to ignore the scab? The fact that we're organized people and that we are productive when we choose to be does not make up in any way for the fact that there are plenty of times when we choose to sleep instead of work or we choose to be entertained rather than to think.

My cheeks burned with shame as I confessed to Brian this sin that he could already see so plainly, this sin with which he himself was struggling. The minute I confessed it, I wanted to get back to fishing. I didn't want to think anymore about it, but there was Jesus, questioning me with patience and love: "Cara, do you love me? What will you do about this? What steps will you take not tomorrow but this evening to be rid of this entanglement with the demon that has plagued you so long?" For how can I feed his sheep--even those in my own home--if I don't first get out of bed?

What We've Read/Are Reading in 2007

2007-12-17T16:31:00.001-08:00

This list spans my reading list, Brian's reading list, and our read-aloud-to-the-family list. This does not include the ten times each I've read Poppleton or Mr. Putter and Tabby...

Teaching the Trivium by Harvey & Laurie Bluedorn
Far As The Curse Is Found by Michael Williams
God of Promise: Introducing Covenant Theology by Michael Horton
Given For You: Recovering Calvin's Doctrine of the Lord's Supper by Keith Mathison
A House for My Name by Peter Leithart
Through the Year with William Still, edited by David Searle
The Auburn Avenue Theology: Pros and Cons edited by Calvin Beisner
The King's Shadow by Elizabeth Alder
Adam of the Road by Elizabeth Janet Gray
The Trumpeter of Krakow by Eric P. Kelly
The Hidden Treasure of Glaston by Eleanore M. Jewett
Into the Wild by Jon Krakauer
If All The Swords in England by Barbara Willard
The Hawk That Dare Not Hunt by Day by Scott O'Dell
Augustine Came to Kent by Barbara Willard
Beorn the Proud by Madeleine Polland
L'Abri by Edith Schaeffer
Two From Galilee by Marjorie Holmes
Upgrade: Ten Secrets to the Best Education for Your Child by Kevin Swanson
The Well-Designed Mixed Garden by Tracy Disabato-Aust

The Year in Review in Pictures

2007-12-17T11:18:00.000-08:00

We began 2007 with a prolific snowstorm that covered our unenclosed living room with as much as 3 feet of snow in some places. It seemed we shoveled for weeks.

Gresham turned 7 on February 14.

Brian turned 35 on March 7 and his parents were here--hooray!--to celebrate the happy occasion with snow, cake, and kisses. Though we've taken them on several trips looking for real estate in Klamath, they've yet to find something that suits exactly. Nevertheless we keep hoping that we will lure them up here in their retirement years.

Easter was spent down in the Bay Area with my brother, Aaron, and sister-in-law, Shauna, my nephew CJ, and the newest addition to their clan, Abigail Julia. The cousins all had a rousing time of learning how to "SHARE"--a word which seems to have several pronunciations depending upon who is speaking at the moment.

Ginger and the kids (Boston, Grayson, Isabella, Aspen, Annalise) came to visit for a week in July and Brian took them up to Crater Lake for a day. The photos are almost completely unaltered. That is the no-kidding, real-life shade of blue that you will see if you visit in person.

We spent the middle of July camping by a stream with my mom and dad, Charyla and Gil, and Aaron, Shauna, CJ & Abby at a secluded campsite in the Cascades. There was no one there but us, save for a quiet, kind woman from Medford with two dogs. After three days we went back home for much-needed showers for everyone and a drying for all the gear. Evangeline celebrated her 3rd birthday with a few of her favorite people.

Soccer season hit us like a ton of bricks. Brian (was) volunteered to coach--not one but THREE soccer teams. Providentially he had an ultra-organized and talented assistant coach in Alexis Deutscher, a friend from Florida and also from our current squadron. Between the three of us and some very helpful parents we managed to keep the children from killing each other and headed for the goal. No, I'm not kidding. Every practice was homeschool appreciation day! Brandt played U-10 and showed some real talent for seeing the field and passing. Gresham played U-8 and amazed us with his increased ball handling. Seth played U-6 and spent his time on goal kicks, otherwise avoiding the ball at all costs! Eva thought she was playing U-6 as well and would have voluntarily, fearlessly played in every game but her sweet little buns lacked the finesse to deal with five-year-old tornados.

Seth turned a very earnest and slightly precocious 5 in October while Mimi and Great Grandma Nana were visiting. I'm ashamed to say that I never even got up from the couch. Our entire family save Brian was down for the count in some part of October with The Plague--2007 version. One of our Classical Conversations history sentences says "In the late 1300s rats carrying The Plague killed one of three Europeans." I believe it; and those who didn't die wished they could.

Poor Mimi and Nana had the joy of dealing with the tail-end of The Plague while Brian and I dashed off for a weekend of flybys and excitement in Denver, where we spent some time with squadron friends and even more time with PJ & Stephanie Mendicki and their girls. For you USAFA grads, that's Tony DiCarlo ('95 guy - boxer) on the left with his wife Candy and Cadet C1C Rob Erickson ('91 guy) and his wife Megan in the middle. I've heard that Rob was once a man who struck fear into the heart of every USAFA underclassman but you would never know it these days. In fact, I'm pretty sure that if he ever reads this post, he'll be mortified that I mention it at all. But what fun is life if we can't look back and laugh at the way it was.

Shortly after our homecoming, Eva was down again with the tummy bug which left her acidotic and fighting for her life. We spent a few days in the doctor's office and just one night in the hospital this time. In January, we will be taking her to Doernbecher Hospital in Portland for some follow-on appointments with an enzyme team. No pictures of the hospital stay.

Brandt turned 10 on November 15 and soon after Mimi, Nana, Papa, Uncle Aaron, Auntie Shauna, CJ & Abigail were visiting for Thanksgiving. We had a wonderful time together during the holidays at last after all of these years apart. We even managed to snap about 80 photos of the kids in the matching outfits that Mimi & Papa had ordered. Out of 80, well.... you can see how many keepers we had.

After the F-15s were grounded in November, we found ample time to launch another Bergeron-Oregon Christmas tradition: cutting our own tree. We took the kids down to Keno (by the California border) and they were able to sled and nail each other with snowballs while Brian and I searched for the perfect tree. Little secret: When there are 1000 spruces gathered all together with 100 foot Douglas Firs in the background, you don't realize how sparse those branches really are. Another little secret: Don't bring a dull saw to cut one down. Next year we'll probably try the "Oregun technique" of shooting it down at the base!

Speaking of guns, I don't have pics but the boys are having a rollicking good time using their BB gun to ping the deer that accost our property on a daily basis. For those of you worried about such things, the BBs don't hurt them permanently. They just leave our yard because they're mildly annoyed by the swat on the bottom. One of my favorite Oregon stories thus far: I was on the phone with a friend in the D.C. area and about 8 deer came into view in both the front and side yards. They began to methodically eat away at my newly-planted shrubs and I began to yell, "Boys! Boys! Get the guns and come shoot 'em quick!!!" Poor Mary, perfectly in the dark on another side of the country, was wondering out loud, "Guns? Shoot whom?"

I'll leave you with a picture that to my mind sums up the exquisite created beauty that assaults our senses on a daily basis. This is a view from our kitchen windows that routinely calls forth the Doxology from my inadequate voice. Our prayer in this Advent season is that you routinely find around you the joys that call forth praise to our Creator and that, in finding them, you give Him all that He is due--even inadequately.

The Invisible Woman on a Weekend Getaway

2007-10-01T09:12:00.000-07:00

My good friend Ellen sent me this marvelous article called "The Invisible Woman." She ought to know. Hers is a familiar story at an older age than most of us. She spent the adult years of her life in a good job with pretty clothes and the respect of respectable society. Not that her life was easy by any means. Only that she wasn't married-with-children until age 35. And then, in the space of 5 years she was married with THREE little blessings. God be praised as He gave her the desire of her heart. So it is with most of us women. We spend all of our years leading up to married-with-children dreaming of being in that blissful state, ignorant that to be so blessed also means invisibility. And so we are unprepared when, as another good friend put it, "our lives close in around us."

The article can be found at: www.parenthood.com/articles.html?article_id=10240

My life closed in around me completely by the time we got to Alaska. By then we had two toddlers and were contemplating the most homebound task imaginable: homeschooling. There were weeks in the ubiquitous Alaska winters (can I even remember a summer there?) where I left the house exactly once per week--to go to church. I was invisible to all save those perceptive souls who sought me out--probably because the Holy Spirit wouldn't leave me alone until they did--Betty, Bern, Brandie, Beth...Ellen.

These days I've become almost comfortable in my invisibility. Chalk it up to five years of homeschooling. Living in a small town. Being the one left behind when Brian goes TDY (fighter pilot's version of a business trip) like a rock star. Don't feel sorry for me. I've never been one to be bored by being alone. There are moments when being invisible hurts--like when Brandt drew the picture of the people he loved and said, "Mom, did you notice that you're not on it?" He was five. Seth will be five this week and just said to me, "Mom, I love you THIS much but I love Dad THIIIIIIISSSS much." The finer points of having boys...

So what is an invisible woman to do when she's faced with the prospect of a weekend getaway with her husband (besides let out an enormous whoop and pull out that dusty book?) It's not just any weekend getaway either. It's actually a TDY to a whopping metropolis where Brian and his buddies will perform two flybys--one at an NFL game. In the past these guys have been treated like rock stars on such TDYs. In some ways I was a little envious but now that the coveted opportunity to fly the coop presents itself, I wonder that I want to remain invisible.

Here are the reasons I should not go:
1. When I'm not at home, I'm not doing my job. Brian pulled that one out of his repertoire a few years ago and I was livid at the time. But now that I've had a few years between my anger and my reason, he's right. It's my Deuteronomy 6 responsibility to teach, train, love, and disciple my own children. If I'm not at home with them or they're not at home with me, other people will fill the void I've created.
2. I look at my invisible woman's closet and see nothing that remotely resembles rock star gear. The last miniskirt was given away when I realized I had more children than legs.
3. I see myself eating at restaurants where I consume a child's pair of shoes or a daughter's needed dress in four or five mouthfuls. When going TDY, penurious scrimping on meals is not respectable.
4. I could get used to sleeping in 'til 8.
5. It has been at least ten years since I navigated myself around a big city. And even then, it wasn't pretty. All my "survival skills" were more the work of unseen angels.

Here are the reasons I am going:
1. My mom and Nana are incredibly capable women who will do a praiseworthy job of looking after the children for the allotted days.
2. There is more to me than the miniskirt I gave away.
3. My husband INVITED me to go. MasterCard is right in one way: there are some things money can't buy.

No-Sugar Plum Marmalade

2007-09-27T20:35:00.000-07:00

Here is a recipe for Plum Marmalade made with Agave Nectar, a 100% natural sweetener which will not raise insulin levels and is safe for celiacs & the allergic. I made it last week and liked it so much that I begged about 20 pounds of plums off my friend Heather so that we can make more on Monday night. In honor of Plum Season here in Southern Oregon and with many thanks to Christina, the crackerjack cook who gave me the Sucanat version of this recipe...

4 lbs. plums
1 cup water
3 small or 2 large lemons
2 cups agave nectar
4 1/2 teaspoons Pomona's Universal Pectin
6 teaspoons calcium water (calcium mix comes with the Pomona's Pectin)

Combine plums & water in a large, heavy-bottomed saucepan and bring to a simmer. Cover partially and simmer over low heat for about 20 minutes or until tender. Remove from heat and let stand for several hours (or overnight) until completely cool. Remove the pits from the plums and reserve the plums in their juice.

Note: If you're using a prune-type plum, you can eliminate this first step by pitting the plums first, chopping them roughly and simmering for 10 minutes with 1/2 cup water.

Bring a large pan of water to a boil and submerge your jelly jars and their lids. Bring to a boil and then turn heat to low. Allow the jars and lids to stand in the water until the final step.

Quarter the lemons, remove the seeds, and slice the quarters crosswise as thinly as possible. Remove the seeds as you go. If you have a mandoline or a knock-off brand slicer (like mine), this tool works quite well for this task. Place the lemon slices in the saucepan with the plums. Pour in the calcium water and stir thoroughly. Bring the whole mixture to boil over medium-high heat.

Meanwhile, in a medium mixing bowl, add the pectin to the agave nectar and stir thoroughly to combine. When the plum-lemon mixture begins to boil, pour in the agave nectar w/pectin and stir thoroughly for 2 minutes. Remove from heat and pour into jelly jars. Wipe the rims clean, place the 2-part lids over the jars and screw down tightly. Return filled jars to the water bath and boil for 5 minutes (add 1 more minute for every 1,000 feet above sea level). Remove jars from water and allow to sit overnight.

I turn my jars upside down to make sure they seal but everyone laughs at me about this precaution because, once my jars are turned right-side-up, my jam "sits" in the jar upside down!!!

Buncha Reasons to Fall for Southern Oregon

2007-09-24T21:56:00.000-07:00

To all of my friends who've ever contemplated a move to Southern Oregon (some of you don't even know who you are. . . yet!!!) I'll just say I had to tear myself away from the cozy fire that Brian made for us tonight in order to get these posted...

Wild blackberries are one of the blessings of living in Oregon. The brambles grow everywhere water is available--if you look closely enough. We picked these at a friend's workplace. It was about 45 minutes of picking for all of us--except Eva. She picked alright but there wasn't a berry left in her bucket when she brought it back to us. Kerplink! Kerplank! Kerplunk! for all of Robert McCloskey's fans.

This is a large Cutthroat (sea run) Trout (I won't try to estimate size because I'll just over or underestimate) that Brandt caught in the Williamson River, about 50 minutes north of Klamath Falls. It was a great afternoon of fishing. Below is Brandt with his fish and below that is Seth with HIS first fish ever--a gorgeous Rainbow!

Ministry opportunities for largely unchurched Oregonians abound, as attested by the photo below of the Puppets in the Park ministry that Faith Orthodox Presbyterian Church of Grants Pass does several times each summer. Love that church! Eva's current favorite color is acid orange, thanks to a plethora of bright orange puppets singing praises to the Lord one bright Sunday afternoon in August. Uh, Dad, I think they may be looking for backup singers, come time for your retirement!

Welcome Home!

2007-08-27T21:24:00.000-07:00

I know. I know. These are long overdue. Some of your polite e-mails nevertheless have me feeling very guilty. I'm not including pictures of every single room in the house. Perhaps as each room is finished, I will post more. We still have a little work to do in the boys' room (painting built-in beds, installing window treatments, saving up for Cole to upholster an enormous window seat cushion) and window treatments to hang in Eva's bedroom and the guest bedroom; but, as of this week, most of the little details have been wrapped up. Here are pics of the completed rooms:

FRONT DOOR (ABOVE): Last week the boys and I planted the Japanese Maple that we bought for Brian for Father's Day. If it survives (it seems to be doing well), it will reach about 12 feet tall. The boys remember the name of the variety but I've forgotten. It has leaves with wine tops and bright orange undersides. It has a very open, vase-like habit and will be a beautiful focal point in that front bed, which just happens to have the perfect southeastern exposure for a Japanese Maple in our climate.

LIVING ROOM
This picture was taken looking from the landing in the stairwell into the living room.

KITCHEN
The kitchen is part of the great room which includes the dining and living rooms. It's my favorite room in the house--perhaps because I spend more time in there than anywhere else. Either that or it's my favorite because it was finished first!

DINING ROOM
This seems to be everyone else's favorite room in the house. No sooner have we cleaned up one meal than the questions start coming: "Mom, what's for . . ."

This is a small seating area that we made in the dining room with two chairs and an antique desk. It's probably the coziest spot in the house. It's even next to the fireplace! The two chairs flank part of an antique desk that I bought for Brian when we were in Alaska. The other bench-half of the desk is in our entryway. The desk was made from solid pieces of pine (not planked). Those trees had to be ENORMOUS. The desk was in an elementary school built in 1880 in New Hampshire.

MASTER BEDROOM
This picture is taken looking from the bedroom out toward the side yard. When we lay in bed at night, we can see the stars through the transom windows. That is perhaps my favorite "feature" of the house and it was entirely by accident.

This picture looks toward the opposite side of the bed. The gold "thing" in the foreground is actually a naugahyde family heirloom bench that my dad and four uncles sat on for many meals. I painted the wood frame black and it added just the right funky touch in our bedroom. I'm all for good taste but sometimes what a room needs is a little bit of bling-with-a-(his)story, you know?

These paintings were given to us by the Allens in Panama City. They knew we enjoy California missions and wanted to give them to us from their amazing art collection. They're now in our bedroom directly across from our bed.

MASTER BATH
This is a view of the vanity and the shower. Our cabinetmaker made the vanity using two huge porch posts from an old house in Georgia. Brian spent quite a bit of time sanding those enormous heart pine posts and then priming them. We went with an open vanity because we were afraid that the bath might seem a little cramped otherwise and I think it was one of the best decisions we made in the bathroom.

This is one of my favorite hangouts late at night but, unfortunately, the shade that will cover that window is on backorder until mid-October. I've been known to singe my hair on the requisite candles that must accompany the bath as Brian is adamant that the lights cannot come on. I'm not too worried. Our nearest neighbors seem to go to bed early.

COMPLETED EXTERIOR
I really like the way our exterior came out. When you're building, you never know how it will really look when it all comes together; but I enjoy turning the corner onto our street and seeing that welcoming front gable with the four big windows. It is finally feeling like home!

Two More Weeks and Counting

2007-06-01T23:11:00.000-07:00

This is the water heater that runs the radiant system (see all of the manifolds) and our domestic hot water. I only include this for you engineering types who are actually interested in this stuff.

The fireplace is nearly finished. FP is installed. Tile is finished. Mantle is installed but I still need to stain/seal the corbels to match the mantle. Trim still has to be painted.

The great room now has tongue & groove on the ceiing, trim is finished and painted, beams are in place and stained (nothing is sealed yet), drywall is complete, lighting is up in a few spots, and the paint is halfway done in this room but nearly complete in the rest of the house. The concrete floor has not yet been stained.

Gresham standing next to the frame for his built-in bed (one of the ones that caused the leak in the PEX?)

Garage door was installed yesterday.

To Make You Laugh

2007-06-01T22:59:00.000-07:00

Yes, that is Miss Evangeline with a new haircut. We're trying to grow the bangs out with the hair. We're now down to two layers or less . . . and counting. She's looking at some of the 560 seedlings that the kids and I started this past month. We've now got nearly all of them planted in huge recycled wine barrels. Those things are beasts. I cringe to think of how we will move them to the new house. Thank Providence for moving dollies!

You know you're building a house when...
Eva came into the kitchen after her bath carrying a brush and asking me to brush her hair. I asked her if Daddy had washed her hair, to which she replied: "No, he didn't put any air conditioning in tonight!"

You really know you're building a house when...
Your daughter points out every single outhouse around town as though it's a vacation destination: "Look Mom, dere's de outhouse!"

Funny mistake:
Seth was caught red-handed the other day with something he'd stolen. I took him to his room for "the routine." We ended with a discussion about stealing and he recited the eighth commandment to me (You shall not steal) very nicely. However, when we went to pray, he confessed, to my surprise, breaking the seventh commandment. "Dear Father, please forgive me for committing adultery!"

Past Photos of House

2007-06-01T22:41:00.000-07:00

This month has been a literal whirlwind of site visits, errands to various home improvement and electrical supply stores, trips to Medford, prepping for next year's Classical Conversations program, and finishing our year of homeschooling. Last Friday we finished our last day of school and I took Brandt and Gresham to see "As You Like It" at the Bowmer Theatre in Ashland. It was fantastic and it was a much-needed break for all of us. We camped for a few nights at Valley of the Rogue campground between Medford and Grants Pass. The weather was incredible--warm but still enjoyable. Our campsite was spacious, grassy, full of trees, and only a few hundred yards from the Rogue River. The big boys and Brian caught several small trout in the Rogue which pleased them as well as it ought to please men & boys. Here are some pictures of the progress on the house that has been made in the past month. All character lessons gleaned from the experience have not been captured on film.

My favorite landscaping feature: Blaine (Travis's brother) used the backhoe to place these huge flat rocks going up the hill to our front stoop. The kids love to use them to get up to the front door and I can't wait to fill their planting crevices with cascading plants.

The Great Room, pre-drywall, looking toward the living room portion with the fireplace and then on to the front yard and down the street.

The pile of rocks that was leftover will, Lord willing, become an enormous rock garden if my best-laid plans come to fruition.

After the drywall came the (fortune in) paint.

Another view of the great room without drywall, looking toward the stairwell and hallway this time.

Southside Bistro Black Bean Soup

2007-05-03T21:12:00.000-07:00

Although I never actually ate this soup at Southside Bistro in Anchorage, this recipe supposedly hails from that restaurant. And the restaurant was one we really liked. I have, however, made this soup at home more times than I can count. The current recipe differs in some respects from the original but is true to the intent of the dish. I also made it for our Truth Project friends a few weeks ago.

A note on the number of varieties of onions in this dish: I think that it actually makes a difference in the taste. I've made the soup when I didn't have the right onions and the taste was a little less complex. As with most soups, the salt content will make or break this soup, so check it carefully toward the end and add salt, a little at a time, to taste.

2 cups dried black beans
2 Tablespoons olive oil
1/2 red onion, diced small
1/2 white onion, diced small
1 stalk celery, thinly sliced
2 Tablespoons chopped garlic
2 Tablespoons chopped shallots
5 Tablespoons chopped cilantro, divided
4 ripe or canned tomatoes, chopped fine
2 Tablespoons sliced scallions
1 serrano pepper, seeded and minced
1 teaspoons ground chipotle chili (in the dry spice aisle of the grocery store)
2 cups chicken stock or canned chicken broth
1/2 cup freshly squeezed lime juice
2 teaspoons coriander
1 teaspoon ground cumin
2 teaspoons chili powder
black pepper & kosher salt to taste
garnishes: sour cream, crushed tortilla chips

Place beans in a large Dutch oven. Rinse beans thoroughly in cold water one or two times. Fill the Dutch oven with water until the beans are completely submerged with an inch or so of water above the beans. Soak beans overnight or for at least 2 hours. Turn burner to medium high and bring to a boil. When beans come to a boil, reduce heat to medium-low and cover. Simmer for another 2-3 hours or until beans are tender. Check water level every 1/2 hour or so. It's better to add a small amount of water several times over rather than a lot of water at one time so that you do not burn the beans or interfere with the boiling process. Toward the end of the cooking process, add about 1 Tablespoon of salt. If you add the salt too early, you may have difficulty getting the beans to soften. Just ask Brian and PJ: You may end up with "marble soup" (reference to one of my cooking experiments early in life)

In a separate saute pan, combine oil, onions, celery, garlic, and shallots. Over medium-high heat, saute until onions are translucent. Add in tomatoes, 2 Tablespoons cilantro, green onion, and jalapeno and stir gently to combine. Pour the whole mix into the beans when the beans are nearly tender. Add in chipotle, chicken stock, lime juice and remaining spices, including the additional cilantro (3 Tablespoons) and some salt and pepper. Bring to a simmer again and taste for salt and spice content. Adjust seasonings and lime juice if necessary. Serve garnished with sour cream and crushed tortilla chips if your diet permits dairy products.

Hot & Sour Soup

2007-05-03T20:59:00.000-07:00

recipe loosely based on one published in Cottage Living, November 2005
Provided you have leftover chicken prepped ahead of time, this recipe comes together very quickly.

2 oz. fresh shiitake mushrooms, thinly sliced
3 Tablespoons vegetable oil
6 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
4 Tablespoons fresh ginger, minced or grated
2 Tablepoons red chili paste (such as Tuong Ot Toi Vietnam)
2 lemongrass stalks, cut into 8 chunks & crushed to bruise (find it with the fresh herbs in the produce section)
12 cups chicken broth (preferably homemade, but boxed/canned works fine too)
1/3 cup Bragg Liquid Aminos or 1/2 cup soy sauce
1/2 cup rice vinegar
2 teaspoons sesame oil (in the Asian section of the grocery store)
2-3 cups shredded cooked turkey or shredded cooked chicken
2 eggs, beaten
salt & pepper to taste
garnishes: thinly sliced scallions, chopped cilantro

In a large Dutch oven, saute over medium high heat mushrooms, garlic, fresh ginger, and lemongrass stalks until garlic and ginger are just softened. Add in red chili paste and stir to coat. Pour in chicken broth, liquid aminos or soy sauce, rice vinegar, and sesame oil. Bring to a simmer and taste. Add salt and pepper to taste if necessary. Add in chicken and bring to a simmer again. Just before serving, gently stir in egg to form ribbons. Serve with scallions and cilantro.

Precious Moments

2007-04-26T10:03:00.000-07:00

Last night my mom and dad helped all four of the kids put together a puppet show for my birthday. It was all priceless, including my dad's shivering rabbit with an English accent, Brandt's puns delivered without understanding, Gresham's queen slapping the king because he wanted to go out hunting foxes (I hope that vignette wasn't gleaned from everyday experience), Eva poking her head through the stage to say that the king was taking a trip to Oakland, and Seth's dialogue-free, action-packed fight. We laughed and laughed.

Earlier in the day, I took Brandt out with me on a "date." We painted 18 tiles at our local paint-your-own-pottery and then ate a great lunch. From there we went to a local antique store and had one of those too-weird-to-brush-off providential experiences...

For 6 years Brian has been searching for a church pew to put in an entryway or mudroom area. For years both the extra space in the house and the pew have eluded us. Several options have presented themselves but the timing or the product or the price were always off somehow. Nevertheless Brian clung to the idea and I've joked with him that the next thing he'll be buying is an antique pulpit so that we can do family worship right! When we measured our mudroom for a bench, its 100" length suggested either a behemoth bench or the as-yet-unlocated church pew. But here we sit in Southern Oregon--not exactly a thriving church culture. Why didn't we find something when we actually lived in the Bible Belt? I looked a bit online and couldn't find anything in decent repair for less than $700--unless I was willing to fly to England--and that wasn't in the budget for this (or any) month. Yesterday I walked into Spring Street Antiques with Brandt and told the owner that I was looking for a bench, to which she replied, "How about a church pew?" The quip that my brain unwillingly offered but that my mouth refused to say was, "Did the Holy Spirit tell you to say that?" I followed her husband out to the side yard where he showed me an 8 foot (and 1 inch) wide, sturdy and plain orange church pew. Yes, I did say orange. At $115 it was perfect. We bought it and thanked the Lord.

From the antique store, Brandt and I progressed to Home Depot where I bought the kitchen sink for our new house. I scooted it out into the aisle and Brandt convinced me that the two of us could pick it up and put it in the cart together, despite its being nearly my size and two times his weight. But I was so impressed by his valor that I put my better judgement aside and the two of us picked it up. Alas, (Brandt's) height was not on our side and we had to be rescued by two kind construction workers shopping nearby. After we paid there was still the matter of getting it into the car; but through Brandt's determination and a bit of female ingenuity, we managed. From there Brandt offered to take the cart back to its spot. As he was taking the cart, it escaped his control and he had to run after it. I was impressed by his situational awareness and then even more so when he chased another runaway cart and brought it back to its rightful place. He didn't even know anyone was watching. It was another precious moment.

As I got ready for bed last night, I ran through the events of the day in my mind. I was full of the scenes that make a woman grateful to be a mom. Yesterday the blessings showered down and it was good to bear the title "Mom." But as I contemplated Proverbs 31, I realized that THAT wife/mother is never mentioned in combination with puppet shows, lunches out, shopping trips or situationally aware children. Not that I think she would have a problem with such things if she could fathom the leisure time required to enjoy them , but she seems to be so "un-21st century." She's all about drudgery and labor--without making them drudgery and labor. She's inextricably linked with the kinds of precious moments brought about by hard work. I'm pretty sure she never read "Parenting" magazine because "quality time" wasn't mentioned once. She works with her hands. She grows her own food. She rises early--to which my 21st century mind and body say "argh!" Her arms are strong from growing grapes and laboring hard. She stays up late at night--not chatting by the fire but WORKING. She clothes her family and cares for the poor. She sells the excess of her labors and covers every bit of the work with wisdom, kindness and compassion. Not a word is mentioned about "mom things"--no planning the family vacation, reading on the couch, going to the gym, coaching the soccer team, or tickle wars. She may have some of that and yet it is not for those 21st century reasons that her children rise up and called her "Blessed."

As I contemplated the precious moments of yesterday, I was well aware that today I would not be queen for the day. And yet somehow God reminded me that the moments of work and discipline, cleaning and directing, monotonous though they may be, are His work. They are precious moments in His sight if they are covered with wisdom, kindness, and compassion. Father, make it so...

It was one of those moments when it is good to be a mom. Or so I think.

Framing Complete

2007-04-18T09:25:00.000-07:00

Here is the latest picture of the house. The framing and insulation inspections were done last week and everything checked out okay. This week the drywallers started hanging "rock" (Brian says I have to use the proper terminology) and they are scheduled to finish by the end of the month. Travis's brother Blaine is also working on our grading in the yard and so we will place boulders on Friday and Saturday. By the end of next week, we hope that there will no longer be a trace of an ICF showing either on the exterior or interior. All of our lighting has arrived as has the whole house vac and a good portion of our tile. I finished the drawings of the boys' built-in beds and their window seat last night. Closets are next on the list of things to draw.

We are still thrilled with Travis, our contractor, although we fear that he is getting discouraged as he worries that he underbid the job. I have a lot of empathy for artisans and craftsmen who can't say no to a thrilling job, despite the fact that it makes little to no business sense. Brian would never do such a thing but I come from a long line of such people. I wish that we could pay him much more as he has built a solid house for us and treated us honestly throughout the process. I don't believe that there is a day that goes by that we do not wonder and thank God for His provision of Travis.

Oaten Cakes

2007-04-18T08:37:00.000-07:00

We've adapted this recipe from a REALLY dry and tasteless version of Celtic Oaten Cakes from a kid's history book and a completely oatless pancake from Laurel's Kitchen. Go figure! I've made these numerous times and believe that the oat/flour ratio is right; but countless variables may interfere, including the brand of oats you use. So if at first you don't succeed...

2 cups old-fashioned oats
3 cups rice milk (or other milk)
4 Tablespoons honey
4 large eggs
2/3 cup grapeseed or canola oil
3 cups whole wheat or barley flour
2 teaspoons salt
4 teaspoons baking powder
1 Tablespoon Earth Balance or butter

Soak oats and rice milk with honey for at least 5 minutes in a large mixing bowl. Add in eggs and oil and beat thoroughly.

Preheat griddle to medium-high temperature (I set mine to 6 out of 10).

Pour in flour and then pour salt and baking powder on top of oat & milk mixture. Stir in gently with a fork until just combined. Drop by 1/3 cupfuls onto griddle greased with 1 teaspoon Earth Balance or butter. Turn when pancakes are looking just dry around the edges. I discontinue using Earth Balance on the griddle after the first three pancakes.

Pitch and Patience

2007-04-17T13:29:00.000-07:00

Our house was difficult to roof because the pitches are so steep. The 2-story portion is a 10-in-12 pitch which means it rises 10 inches for every 12 inches it runs horizontally and the great room portion of the house (the part that sticks its nose out toward the street) is a 12-in-12 pitch which means it's even more sloped. It took Travis and his crew about 2 weeks to deck the roof before we could bring in the roofing crew. That was two weeks where we could only watch, wait, and pray that no one was killed while working on our house in the sleet and snow. See the footing holds in the 2nd photo down. Last year, when Ed and Judy's house behind ours was being constructed, a roofer with over 20 years of experience fell off Ed & Judy's roof and nearly died. Here are the photos of our dangerous but now finished roofing project:

Older Photos of House

2007-04-17T12:42:00.000-07:00

For those of you who are really interested in the details of this project, I thought I'd include a few more photos from the past 4 months that didn't make the cut in previous blogs.

Post-Christmas, foggy day: walls are all up and the trusses are layed on top of the house but they're not in position.

Now the trusses for the great room & master bedroom are in place.

Looking from the great room (kitchen, dining, living rooms) toward the kitchen, hallway to the master bedroom, and the master bedroom and bath

Looking down from the second story (kids' rooms & guest room) into the great room. We could walk (or fall) through walls when there wasn't any insulation or drywall.

Looking at the back of the house from up on top of the ridge. If you could look behind yourself, you'd see a slice of land and then Upper Klamath Lake directly below you.

Pragmatism

2007-04-13T16:49:00.000-07:00

I haven’t blogged in ages but my brain has nevertheless been active despite tile and lighting orders, fireplace sketches, and meetings with the electrician. I feel that I ought to split this entry up into five or six days. It really IS unmanageable as I've been "writing" it in my head for a month. And for that I’m sorry. Perhaps you could read a paragraph per week, sort of the way you might read a textbook. I won’t be the wiser if you choose that route. Without further ado, for your reading pleasure or torture, my thoughts on Pragmatism.

Our family, along with two other families in our squadron, is going through a biblical worldview course by Focus on the Family called “The Truth Project.” We’re not really studying but, more precisely, surveying the various ways that people seek truth. Last week we surveyed philosophy and where Truth comes from. This week we surveyed anthropology and studied the nature of evil. Via my one and only philosophy class in college, I was vaguely familiar with Socratic thinking, still ruminating on Rene Descartes’ defense of God’s existence, and still puzzling over the upside down (my opinion) logic of Immanuel Kant. But I’d not known that my own mantra was a philosophy—and a distinctly American one at that!

In the circles in which I've traveled, to be pragmatic has been tantamount to a compliment. Pragmatic people made things happen. They produced results and checked stuff off their to-do lists. Not that most pragmatists would subscribe wholeheartedly to the entire philosophy of the system, but it nevertheless is helpful to understand its roots. Pragmatists live by the worldview that “what we’ve got is all we’ve got. It may not make rational or transcendent sense, but we can still do something with it.” C.S. Pierce, William James, and John Dewey, the architects of the philosophy, said that meaning was merely in what we could perceive (i.e. NOT outside of ourselves) and that the only function of thought is to guide action in a course that leads to the most success and value for the least possible short-term cost. In other words, the truth of the proposition is dependent upon the success or failure of the result.

Increasingly, over the past few years, I have winced to see that Pragmatism is not only a stumbling block to my faith in God; it is the antithesis of my faith in God. Pragmatism is faithlessness itself.. It is the sugar that we prosperous lovers of fast food swallow most frequently, believing it to be good for us simply because it tastes so good.

Under Pragmatism, the truth of the claim is dependent upon the perceived success or monetary value of the outcome. For example:

Truth claim: Prostitution is a good thing for society and should be legalized.
Evidence: It decreases criminal activity, provides jobs for women who would otherwise be unemployed, and provides benefit to both parties involved.

Truth claim: It is wrong to discipline a child.
Evidence: Using methods other than discipline (such as coaxing, bribery, agreements, and withholding privileges), you can obtain the desired result without running the risk of making the child and/or yourself uncomfortable.

Truth claim: It is undesirable to have children.
Evidence: Little people contribute nothing to society and drain the pools of human labor and finances.

Truth claim: It is foolish to stay in a difficult marriage.
Evidence: Choosing to stay in a difficult marriage will result in further quarreling, mental and emotional stress for both parties, and can result in violence or emotional retreat.

As ludicrous as are some of these pragmatic arguments and as realistic as are others, they have one thread in common: pragmatic “truths” have no device by which to account for intangibles—things that we can’t see but that we know, down deep in our souls, are precious. Pragmatism can’t measure freedom, selflessness, joy, human dignity, emotional peace, honor, or inherent beauty and therefore it cannot bring those intangible values to bear upon its truth constructs. Although all of the Pragmatists of my acquaintance (including myself when I’m acting like one) might like to account for such things, we cannot do so without invoking some other value system outside the realm of Pragmatism.

The other activity in which Pragmatism fails is in measuring effects over an expanse of time. Pragmatists cannot account for long-term effects because they’re so busy acting upon the “truths” validated by short-term evidence . For instance, in the truth claim which says “it is undesirable to have children,” the evidence is swayed by the immediate result of having a baby—tons of diapers, hours of screaming, and whopping helpings of thankless self-sacrifice only to be followed by more of the same. Yes, in the short-term, babies and toddlers are a drain to everyone and everything they touch (short-term effect)—but that assumes that they never grow up to get jobs and care for their parents (long-term effect).

Despite its evident drawbacks, Pragmatism continues thrive in its American breeding ground. This is for two reasons that I can see and, I’m sure, for more reasons that I fail to understand. Pragmatism is concerned with the payoff--and what more objective indicator for success can we find than possessions? And which country has the most citizens with the most “stuff” (“Better Off French? World Magazine, May 13, 2006)? Schwack! Americans have washing machines, computers, televisions, pillow shams, and Elvis paintings by which to measure their short-term success. We coined it here: “The one who dies with the most toys wins!” Compounding the success of a philosophy concerned with payoffs is the fact that we Americans are mesmerized by the temporal and focus, almost exclusively, on the short term. When those same truth constructs prove false or inadequate as time goes on, instead of blaming our truth constructs, we’re prosperous and active people who can conveniently find plenty of alternative causes at hand.

For instance, when we were looking for the cause of Seth’s constant tantrums and screaming, we failed to remove corn from his diet. Corn was one of the few grains he could eat (or so we thought) and it was inconvenient to take it out of his diet. Honestly it was not only inconvenient; it would have been painful. Seth loves cornbread and corn on the cob. And it was summertime. Our truth construct: “Corn is good for Seth” was validated by the fact that eating cornbread made him happy and it made my life in the kitchen easier. The problem was that Seth continued to throw tantrums, complain of headaches, break out in rashes, and scream hysterically in the night. His fits were much less frequent than before he’d come off the wheat, berries, and sugar but we were still dealing with at least one miserable day per week. When those miserable days came, instead of seeing the corn that he’d eaten a day or two ago, I saw a later bedtime as the cause or I pointed to his brothers as being more irritating than usual. There was always something else to blame. I was so enamored by the positive effects of the corn that despite my newly-acquired knowledge about the powerful interactions of food with the human immune system, I failed to realize that something eaten a day or two ago was having long-term effects.

More sobering and to-the-point is the example of my parenting of Brandt when he was young. While I’m sure that I said I was parenting “by faith and not by sight” (what else would a Christian say?), my truth construct was that God’s way of discipline administered in love must not work. I never would have admitted that to myself, much less said it to you; but when I could finally look back with some degree of perspective, I saw my faithless heart as plainly as I could see the county dump. Every time Brandt gave Gresham a right hook to the gut, every time he woke us in the middle of the night with belligerent demands, every time he said “No!” to my face (and boy did he know how to say it!), every time he insisted upon whining instead of asking, I chalked up more evidence for my truth proposition. I had days of sins heaped up as ample evidence that God’s way “just wasn’t working.” Fortunately (providentially) I didn’t have anything else to try, not having been raised in a manipulative household and not having read many “other” parenting books. I was stuck using God’s truth constructs to raise my child but I chose not to exercise the faith that would complete its efficacy. Outwardly, I was following God’s way. Inwardly I was sure that God was failing us. “But God, who is rich in mercy, because of His great love with which He loved us, even when we were dead in trespasses, made us alive together with Christ (by grace you have been saved)” (Ephesians 2: 4-5). Apparently it’s not only a verse about salvation.

So I applied the discipline and said the right words; but I was plagued mentally and emotionally by frustration. This, in turn, often influenced by behavior toward Brandt. I couldn’t believe God’s plan because I couldn’t see it. And that made me desperate. There were many times when I sinned against my son by speaking to him in an exasperated tone or by reinforcing his rebellion with pleading and coaxing and then, in despair, administering the discipline I should have given at the first. What was the poor child to think? And then, after years of faithful discipline accompanied by faithless thinking, the Lord began to change Brandt’s heart. And in so doing, He changed mine. He softened us both visibly. Thank God for the prayers of the saints! Brandt began to obey cheerfully and immediately. I began to believe in God’s power to change a heart of stone into a heart of flesh. Oh that I, who had seen that power before in my own life, had believed that as I ought! Shame flooded me at the same time as I experienced the relief of seeing God’s ways bearing fruit. I am still ashamed by my phariseeic efforts, but since Brandt’s journey through toddlerhood, we’ve continued to have the opportunity to see God grow both them and us.

Gresham followed Brandt into “the terrible twos”—but in completely different ways. And just when we thought we had some of the parental formulas within our grasp, God gave us Seth and Eva—a whole different set of issues than either Brandt or Gresham. Each time, trusting God has become a little bit easier even when there is more at stake. Each time, I get the opportunity to see my phariseeic heart just a bit more clearly. Each time He reminds me that the blessings are here now if I obey unquestioningly and they are waiting for later also. By faith, I don’t have to worry about the long-term consequences of short-term gratification. By faith, I can put to death my pragmatic nature.

Seen in light of its limitations, Pragmatism shows itself as a worthless philosophy. So why do we continue to run to it, embracing it as the de facto operating procedure for our lives? It is because the alternative is almost unthinkable. The alternative is faith in God’s principles and faith in His immutable and priceless Word. Faith in imperishable and eternal truth constructs is not a mode in which we can operate without the direct intervention of God. And that requires that we humble ourselves and do, without requiring an answer or a result beforehand, exactly what God has called us to do. When we trust God as He has revealed Himself in His word, He takes into account both the “intangibles” and the long-term effects in His perfect truth constructs. Not only that, He takes into account the people who are likely to be affected by those truth constructs. He says He loves little ones precisely BECAUSE they have nothing to offer in the short term (Matthew 18). He says He loves us although we have nothing to offer but our filthy rags and whitewashed hearts. Those who follow Him will reign with Him in a kingdom of intangibles: a kingdom of love that can’t be measured, a kingdom of joy that will never end. And all of it lasts longer, much, much longer than the short-term.

Halibut Poached in Coconut, Ginger & Basil Broth

2007-03-22T14:23:00.000-07:00

This one's for you Christina! And for you too Mom! Catch us some fish this summer, okay?

Serves 6
From Fine Cooking, June/July 2006

6 pieces filleted halibut, 1-1 1/2 pounds total, sliced no more than 1/2" in the thickest part
kosher salt
ground pepper
1 Tablespoon grated fresh ginger
1 cup roughly chopped sweet or Thai basil
1 Tablespoon olive oil
1 large shallot, thinly sliced (about 1/4 cup)
1 2-inch pieces fresh ginger, julienned
2 cloves minced garlic
2 ribs celery, sliced 1/8" thick on the diagonal
1 small fresh hot chile, sliced into thin rings (seed intact)
1 cup chicken broth
5 1/2 oz. can coconut milk (I prefer the brand Mae Ploy)
4 scallions, thinly sliced on the diagonal
2 Tablespoons fish sauce, or more to taste (I prefer Tiparos)
2 Tablespoons fresh lime juice
1 Tablespoon mirin (Japanese sweet rice wine) or maple syrup
1 teaspoon finely grated lime zest
2 cups jasmine rice, cooked

Spread the fillets on a work surface, skin side down. Season lightly with salt and pepper. Divide the ginger among the fillets and spread as evenly as you can. Sprinkle about 1 Tablespoon of the basil over the fillets. Roll each fillet, starting at the thicker end. Secure each roll with a toothpick (or green scallion tops make very pretty twine as well). Sprinkle the rolls lightly with a little more salt and pepper. In a small Dutch oven with a tight-fitting lid, heat the oil over high heat until it shimmers. Add the shallot, ginger julienne and garlic. Saute for 1 minute, stairring constantly. Add the celery and saute for 30 seconds. Add the chile and continue to saute, stirring, until the celery starts to soften, about 2 minutes. Add the chicken broth and heat for 2 minutes. Turn off the heat and arrange the rolled fish in a single layer over the celery mixture. Pour the coconut milk over the fish and turn the heat to high. As soon as the coconut milk comes to a simmer, reduce the heat to medium low and cover. Simmer until the fish is opaque and cooked through, 8-10 minutes. If you're unsure, flake apart a bit of the center to see if it's done.

Meanwhile, transfer cooked rice to a serving platter. Remove the fish pot from the heat and transfer fillets to the serving platter on top of the rice. Return the pot with the broth to high heat. Add the remaining basil, scallions, fish sauce, lime juice, mirin, and lime zest. Bring the broth just to a simmer and then taste. Add more salt, mirin or fish sauce as needed. Pour the broth over the fillets & rice.

Thankful for . . . SNOW!

2007-03-05T22:32:00.000-08:00

Brian was leaving on Friday, so, of course, on Thursday morning I woke up so sick with the flu that I literally could not walk. I spent the entire day on the couch in my PJs. The kids brought the school books to me and read most of their work out loud. I sort of gestured to them and tried to stay awake. The next day I was quite a bit better but still in my PJs. Brian had left early that morning.

Saturday morning found us running a few critical errands because, with snow in the forecast we wanted to be prepared. Well, we wanted snow and it was SNOW we got. Not a typical Oregon come-and-go snow; this was a stay-on-your-street-and-shovel-your-drive snow. There were a few power outages that had my mother's heart overly concerned. And it lasted for nearly two weeks! In other words, Brian went on his TDY for nine days, diverted to Portland in bad weather, found a very brief hole in the weather on Sunday morning, landed with a shovel in his hand and started to use it. Both he and I shoveled snow in some capacity every single day for over a week. There was, on some days, up to 18 inches of snow in our house under construction.

Providentially, I had just been listening to Focus on the Family's Radio Theatre, The Hiding Place, with the kids. Although I've thoroughly enjoyed nearly every one of Focus's Radio Theatres, this is by far and away my favorite although I've literally cried my way through the entire thing. In this true story, one of the "scenes" involves Corrie and her sister, Betsie, huddling together on a tiny bed in Ravensbruck Concentration Camp. They are trying to recall the scripture that they've learned from that morning. They remember it and recite it there in the frozen bunker: I Thessalonians 5:15-22 "See that no one renders evil for evil to anyone, but always pursue what is good both for yourselves and for all. Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, in everything give thanks; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you. Do not quench the Spirit. Do not despise prophecies. Test all things; hold fast what is good. Abstain from every form of evil."

Corrie wants to go to sleep but Betsie insists that they give thanks for every aspect of their circumstances. They begin to pray and to thank God for the Bible they were able to smuggle into the bunker and for the other women in the bunker with them. And then Corrie feels something biting her. It's a flea and, as another prisoner informs them, the bunkers are crawing with them. Betsie insists that they give thanks for the fleas but Corrie balks. She will not give thanks for such a disgusting creature; but Betsie, in her gentle way, insists that they do so. God's word, after all, says "in everything give thanks." Corrie gives in, they thank God for the fleas, and then go to sleep.

In German concentration camps, all meetings are forbidden, a fact that Corrie and Betsie and their friend Mene remember with pain. In their former camp, Mene was subjected to fierce torture for two weeks, the price she paid for participating in a bible study. But in Ravensbruck, their bible studies are never discovered. The guards never even come near their bunker. When Corrie finally wonders aloud at this miracle, she is set straight by one of her friends: "Of course they won't come near these bunkers. They're infested with lice and FLEAS!"

"In everything, give thanks." If Corrie and Betsie could be thankful for fleas, then we can certainly be thankful for snow--even days and days and inches and inches of it. I'm not sure about you, but I'll take snow over fleas any day of the week! And who knows what great thing God may have in mind?

Evangeline--Little Butterfly

2007-03-01T15:49:00.000-08:00

Evangeline Noel Bergeron is now 2 1/2 years old and nearly every day has seemed a miracle. First, our little footling breach, born caesarean section on her due date was just so DIFFERENT from our three boys that we could not fathom she belonged to the Bergerons. Then beginning at four months of age, she began to lose weight. First she fussed while nursing. Then, by 7 months of age, she wouldn't nurse at all. Nor would she take a bottle. And every bit of solid food that we tried elicited an agonizing series of allergic reactions.

The appointments with doctors and myriad blood tests began. The first diagnosis: "failure to thrive" as though that answered our unspoken questions and our worst fears. Brian and I and those around us searched each others' eyes for answers, no one daring to say what we were all thinking: She was growing thinner. The first blood tests came back revealing abnormal liver and thyroid functions. Subsequent tests only confirmed what we could now see--jaundice brought about from a failing liver. We tried all of the formulas and all of the tricks of geting them into her emaciated body but to no avail. She began to reject all foods, either vomiting them up or her body issuing violent complaints through rashes and diarrhea. We began to beg and plead with the Lord, to bargain with the Lord, issuing ultimatums we could not hope to keep.

After a few weeks of frustration and desperation, a friend mentioned to me that I ought to keep a food diary of the foods I was eating. I registered the typical reaction that most people do when they hear the "food diary" phrase: "What good will it do? She doesn't nurse except in the morning anyway. Her reactions are so different and so unexpected that I'm sure it won't help. Even if I discovered the foods to which she is allergic, she won't eat anything anyway..." But, like most people who eventually subject themselves to the food diary, I was so desperate that we tried it. Lo and behold I learned a LOT in one week. Not only dairy products but wheat and pineapple and soy and sugar were all wreaking havoc on her defenseless system. We had something to share with the pediatric gastroenterologist--if only he'd believe us! Lo and behold, by the grace of God, he did; and then he referred us to the pediatric allergist. After a few trips to the allergist and a few discussions with him, we had both me and Evangeline off of all products containing even traces and derivatives of dairy, wheat, sugar, and soy. It was an exhausting task requiring better eyesight than any normal person possesses (have you tried to read 25 tiny labels in a grocery store with four small children in your cart?) but one in which I was bolstered and strengthened by my good friend Shonda who was going through something similar with her daughter Leah, born 2 weeks after Evangeline!

A few more months passed and Evangeline began to get healthy again. Her color came back to peaches and cream instead of nuke yellow. She gained weight, first in ounces and then in pounds. She was still developmentally delayed but she actually began to do something besides sleep. She was curious about her environment and finally played sweet little games with us. She began to laugh. And we all laughed with her for pure joy.

On her first birthday, I remember thanking the Lord for his perfect act of deliverance. We did not deserve to have this beautiful daughter who was actually growing. She belonged to the Lord. He had kept her perfectly even when our faith had faltered.

Three days later, as though to test our hope, we checked into the Panama City hospital with a listless baby who would not stop vomiting. Within a few hours, her little body was swelling up with fluid and nurses were running everywhere. The doctor appeared back in our room, though she'd only just left. They were planning to do a CAT scan and a kidney scan and then they would be taking us by emergency transport to Pensacola, to the children's hospital. Our new enemy was a word called "Acidotic," an alkalinity of the blood sometimes brought about by failure of the kidneys. As I continued to recite the litany of her allergies to every professional who entered the room, we all grasped at straws for answers and Brian and I prayed and begged the Lord to save her unresponsive body.

About an hour later, shortly before her CAT scan, she vomited suddenly in my lap. The nurse with us at the time looked at the mess and said "What in the WORLD did she eat? That looks like poison!" To make this long story less long, suffice it to say that it wasn't poison from a cupboard. It was poison (e.coli) from the hurricane-damaged beaches of Panama City, as we were to find out later upon visiting the nephrologist. Crisis averted by a strategic (thank you Jesus) bout of vomiting...

We brought Evangeline home and nursed her back to vitality and health, only to take her once more to the hospital in Panama City, severely dehydrated by vomiting. This time it was "just" a virus but her condition was further complicated by allergic reactions to the intravenous antibiotics and oral medications they gave her. The hospital stays were getting shorter and we had reason to be thankful; but my Mommy Tolerance was getting thinner. Every sound she made at home had me jumping with fright and beset by doubts about my competence as a mother. She continued to have bouts of vomiting that seriously depleted her system and the weight that we'd so painstakingly helped her to gain. When, O Lord, would this trial be over?

As we left Florida for Oregon, we were certain that a healthy dose of Western air was what she needed. She was vomiting when we left Florida but seemed to be fine upon our arrival in Louisiana. A week in Cajun country seemed to do her little French Canadian body some good; but by the time we'd seen the Grand Canyon she was vomiting again. Brian took her to the hospital in Phoenix to get her enough fluids so that we could make it to Hemet, our hometown; but by day three of our stay in Hemet it was apparent to everyone that she would have to be admitted again. After ten days of fighting this monster virus, she finally rallied back to health, leaving us wondering if she'd had a run-in with a viral type of meningitis (we never had a spinal tap performed on her).

In the ten months and one birthday that have passed since her last hospitalization, Evangeline has spent her time growing and making up for much lost time. Friends and family often ask the question, "Is she well?" The fact is that we really cannot know what God has done in her body or what He has planned for her future. We can say one thing with grins from ear to ear, "She is getting VERY chubby!"

Although most people who observe her see her as very reserved, she doesn't know the meaning of the word around her brothers. She is showing a little girl's penchant to take charge and to (gulp!) shriek quite readily at the first sign of danger or resistance. She is beginning to make connections, often to hilarious effect. Last night I pointed out the rainbow in the picture of Noah and the ark and said to her "Evangeline, why did God put the rainbow in the sky?" She said, with characteristic certainty, "Because He wanted to play with it."

She loves all creatures "baby" whether stuffed or real. Currently her obsession is with the photos of her newest baby cousin Abigail (on my side); but while we were home for Christmas, it was all talk of Baby Sophia, her brand new cousin on her daddy's side.

Two nights ago, we were cleaning up the wooden pizza and I said to her "Eva, please go get the rest of the pieces." She responded "No, Mommy, I can't because they lost." I countered, "Eva, where did you have them last?" She responded, "Mommy, they lost in da livin room." I tried again, "Evangeline please go look for them in the living room." Her response? "Mommy, no fwuitless ahguments, okay?"

How we do praise God for the very breathing of Evangeline's precious body and for her active mind. We do not deserve to have her here and yet here she is, saying "Where my seconds?" at the dinner table, asking for "Jesus Loves Me" when we tuck her into bed, and begging us to pray with her. She is our priceless reminder that the mercies of the Lord are even for undeserving sinners such as us.

And one "sideways benefit": You will never call the process of building a house "stressful" if you've first experienced a near-miss with one of your children!

Misunderstanding Jeremiah

2007-03-01T15:26:00.000-08:00

Jeremiah 7:4-7
"Do not trust in these lying words, saying, 'The temple of the Lord, the temple of the Lord, the temple of the Lord are these.' For if you thoroughly amend your ways and your doings, if you thoroughly execute judgment between a man and his neighbor, if you do not oppress the stranger, the fatherless, and the widow, and do not shed innocent blood in this place, or walk after other gods to your hurt, then I will cause you to dwell in this place in the land that I gave to your fathers forever and ever."

The above passage was from this morning's bible reading. In order to discern if the kids were understanding, I asked this question: "What did the tribe of Judah THINK was pleasing to the Lord?" Brandt answered "the things in the temple." Then I probed further: "What was God saying was TRULY pleasing to Him?" Gresham raised his hand frantically and then out came the answer: "Executing your neighbor!"

What can a mom do but burst out laughing?

The Long-Awaited Blog on Seth

2007-02-24T21:16:00.000-08:00

I'd hate to forget Seth. For all of the obvious reasons but mostly for the reason that all mothers of more than two children children fear. Number three always seems to be getting lost in the mix. It's what well-meaning but unthinking visitors say to you when you're still recovering in the hospital with #3: ""You'll never be able to do for three what you could have done for two." Or how about what I could have done for one? I mean, I certainly can't do for THREE what I would have done for NONE. Where does the logic begin and end in that statement? Who has decreed that "One is good. Two is best. Three's a crowd!" I say "well-meaning" because I know that they don't actually realize that in your postpartum state your few precious hours of sleep are already subjected to vicious nightmares of what MIGHT happen. And now that I have four, I know that there were no "ifs" or bad dreams involved: incompetence and insufficiency are inevitabilities! There just aren't enough eyes or arms or laps to make all four of them kings & queens for a day. But that's not to say that Seth doesn't try...

Seth has never been the child to get lost in a crowd. Even now, at the grown-up age of four, he'll beg me to hold his hand in the store. Yesterday we were downtown in a parking lot and he refused to get out of the van on his side. I asked him why and he said "Because I might get hurt by those cars zooming down the road." The kid really is street smart! He seems to have his eyes and ears everywhere and, much like his older brother Brandt, he's inevitably searching for The Big Picture. He doesn't just ask when Daddy will be home. He wants to know the schedule and the menu that follow. For this reason, his least favorite hymn is "Trust and Obey."

Seth also has incredibly sweet moments. The grandmothers at church are thoroughly smitten by him because they rarely see him dig in his heels or blow me off. All they see is this enormous blonde head and eyes sized to match, hugs and kisses at the ready. He looks at them when he's telling a story and nods his head with a VERY knowing look--honestly a look of perceptiveness that you might see on an average 30-year old. And then he says something like "Yes. YES! I don't mind at all. I PROMISE I'm pulling your leg!" Never mind that most of the language is entirely inappropriate to the situation at hand... His look and his manner will convince you and all grandmothers that he is fully cognizant of what he's saying.

Seth loves to do puzzles, read books, and do heaps and heaps of math workbooks. Don't worry; he gets even weirder. Connect-the-dots seem to be the discovery of the year and have followed hard on the heels of coloring with markers, the results of which would provide a thesis for Freud. He doesn't color with multiple colors. Nor does he skip around coloring different characters on the page. Nope! He picks up the black or brown markers (his two favorites) and proceeds to cover the entire page ... METICULOUSLY! No amount of pleading that he try a different color will do. He is going for the prize: Most Painstaking 4-Year-Old Artist Ever!

The most delightful development in our family to include Seth is that The Boys (a.k.a. Brandt and Gresham) have found the grace and motivation to include him in their games and their imaginings. Whereas just a few months back his entry into the room elicited groans of "Can't we save this to play later Mom, when little ones are asleep?" Now they all tear around the house together with their knights and pirates, legos and paper airplanes. Part of this is a notable maturity in our little boy so that he is mostly able to deal with conflict in a more peaceable way than piercing screams. But moms everywhere know what I really mean: It's a work of God. A tiny, everyday miracle that would perhaps be lost on most people if they hadn't been around two weeks ago to hear the howling as it began to abate.

Do I have enough of myself to go around? Never! But I have a Savior who does. The Bible says that His love is "an everlasting love." It never runs out. And He has condescended to entrust our imperfect family with a body and soul in Seth. He most certainly will give us whatever we need to cause this breathtaking soul to bloom and thrive.

Brandt's Reading List

2007-02-21T17:06:00.000-08:00

I'll try not to rant--not that I don't do that, huh Mom & Dad? It's just that I've tried to guard from it on this blog. Okay, so I'll just give you a little background (read hobby horse here). Every year some new series of books comes out. Lately it seems to be books that either flirt with or dive right into the occult. "Fringe" seems to be in on book runways for spring 2007--and has been for about ten years now. And often I'm left speechless by the persisting argument, "Anything that causes a child to love reading is worth reading." Now let's never mind the completely illogical "cart driving the horse" problem with that statement and admit the real assertion that people are dying to make: "Everything new is best." But here in the Bergeron household, we tend to think that everything new is ... just new. It may be noble, true and new or it may just be the same philosophies (pragmatism, humanism, logical positivism, relativism) repackaged. But I don't bother much with questions like "Should Christian children be reading Harry Potter?" because I have a 150-book list that we've simply GOT to wade through before our sons, enamored someday with the novelty of the novel, come to us and ask to read Harry Potter. And then it won't be Harry Potter probably (how long can Rowling string this out, I wonder?) To be sure, it will be the same ends-justifies-the-means all-power-comes-from-the-same-source-it-just-depends-on-you philosophies; but we can afford to put that off for a few more years. In the meantime, we've got a world of tried-and-true mind-expanding reading waiting to be explored!

Arguments aside, I've promised some of you a list of chapter books that Brandt has read over the past three years. I have not personally read every single one of these. If they were on a friend's booklist or from another trusted source, I did not deem it necessary. If you want to know what is future on our reading list, you can check out Veritas Press's new interactive online catalog at www.veritaspress.com unless perchance you have my Amazon password and can hack into my shopping cart! I know I've probably forgotten a handful of books. Although some of these we have used as read-alouds for our whole family, I'm astounded at how much one child can read when he's at home for a good portion of his day with many books at his disposal. Thanks Mom, Dad, and Nana for buying so many of these and thank you Lord for providing in the book budget even when it should have long since run dry!!!

Natural History
On the Far Side of the Mountain - Jean Craighead George (more in this series)
Frightful's Mountain - JCG
My Side of the Mountain - JCG
There's a Tarantula in my Purse - JCG
Gentle Ben by Walt Morey
Minn of the Mississippi -Holling Clancy Holling (more in this series)
Paddle to the Sea - HCH
The Call of the Wild - Jack London
Where the Red Fern Grows - Wilson Rawls
Shiloh - Phyllis Reynolds Naylor

Historical
The Witch of Blackbird Pond (New England Witch Trials)- Elizabeth George Speare (see more by this author)
The Bronze Bow (time of Christ)- EGS
Ten Boys Who Made a Difference - Irene Howat
Ten Boys Who Made History - IH
Ten Boys Who Changed the World - IH
Outcast (Roman Occupation of Britain)- Rosemary Sutcliff (see more by this author)
The Shining Company (British fighting Saxons in 600 A.D.) - RS
Why Not, Lafayette? - Jean Fritz (see many more by this author)
The Great Little Madison - JF
Twenty and Ten (WWI)- Claire Huchet Bishop
Caddie Woodlawn (Frontier) - Carol Ryrie Brink
The Children's Homer (Iliad & Odyssey - Padraic Colum
Hittite Warrior (Israel's Battle Against Sisera) - Joanne Williamson (see more by this author)
God King (Hezekiah's Battle Against Assyrians) - JW
The White Stag (Huns & Magyars) - Kate Seredy
A Place Called Heartbreak (Vietnam) - Walter Dean Myers
Turn Homeward, Hannalee (Civil War) - Patricia Beatty
Castle Diary: The Journal of Tobias Burgess - Richard Platt
Son of Charlemagne - Barbara Willard (see more by this author)
True Stories of the Second World War - Paul Dowswell
Rifles for Watie (Civil War)- Harold Keith
Adara (Israel's War with Assyrians, time of Elisha) - Beatrice Gormley
Esperanza Rising (Immigration from Mexico, 1930s) - Pam Munoz Ryan
From Wales to Westminster (Martyn Lloyd Jones ) - Christopher Catherwood
Beric the Briton (Roman Occupation of Britain)- G.A. Henty (see tens more by this author ... warning: a trifle verbose)
Hostage Lands (Roman Occupation of Britain) - Douglas Bond (see more by this author)
Duncan's War (Scottish War Against England) - DB
King's Arrow - DB
Rebel's Keep - DB
Daughter of the Mountains (Tibetan Girl's Journey - Buddhism) - Louise Rankin
All-of-a-Kind Family (turn of century Jewish family in NYC) - Sydney Taylor (see more by this author in this series)
South Sea Island Rescue (story of Scottish missionary John G. Paton) - Kay Walsh
The Adventures of Tom Sawyer (mid-19th century South) - Mark Twain
Bull Run (Civil War) - Paul Fleischman
Hadassah: The Girl Who Became Queen Esther - Tommy Tenney
The Apple and the Arrow: The Legend of William Tell - Mary & Conrad Buff
Sarah, Plain & Tall (Frontier story) - Patricia MacLachlan
Keep the Lights Burning, Abbie (true story of Abbie Burgess, 1856) - Peter & Connie Roop
Shades of Gray (Civil War) - Carolyn Reeder
The King's Fifth (Conquistadores in New World, 1500s) - Scott O'Dell (see many more by this author)
I, Juan de Pareja (story of Diego Velasquez) - Elizabeth Borton de Trevino
The Golden Goblet (Ancient Egypt) - Eloise Jarvis McGraw
Tirzah (the Exodus) - Lucille Travis
Little House on the Prairie Series - Laura Ingalls Wilder
Detectives in Togas (Ancient Rome) - Henry Winterfeld
The Door in the Wall (Middle Ages) - Marguerite D'Angeli
Adam of the Road (Middle Ages) - Elizabeth Janet Gray & Robert Lawson
Mr. Revere and I (Revolutionary War) - Robert Lawson (see more by this author)
The Red Keep (France, Middle Ages) - Allen French (see another by this author)
Almost Home (Mayflower Puritans) - Wendy Lawton (see more in this series called "Daughters of Faith")
Carry On, Mr. Bowditch (Revolutionary New England, Classical Method) - Jean Lee Latham
The Boy in the Alamo (Mexican-American war) - Margaret Cousins
The House of Sixty Fathers (Occupied China, WWII) - Meindert DeJong (see more by this author)

Science
Archimedes and the Door of Science - Jeanne Bendick

For Fun and Imagination
The Adventures of Pinocchio - Carlo Collodi
Misty of Chincoteague - Marguerite Henry (see more by this author)
Misty's Twilight - MH
Stormy, Misty's Foal - MH
Sea Star: Orphan of Chincoteague - MH
Chucaro, Wild Pony of the Pampa - Francis Kalnay
Ginger Pye - Eleanor Estes (see more by this author including The Moffat Family Chronicles)
Pinky Pye - EE
The Hundred Dresses - EE
The Bears on Hemlock Mountain - Alice Dalgliesh
...And Now, Miguel - Joseph Krumgold
The Railway Children - E. Nesbit (see more by this author)
Chronicles of Narnia series - C.S. Lewis
The Tower of Geburah - John White (see more in this series)
The Milly, Molly Mandy Storybook - Joyce Lankester Brisley
The Wheel on the School - Meindert de Jong
The Cricket in Times Square - George Selden
a few in the Boxcar Children series
a few Hardy Boys and a "few" more in future, I'm sure

Photos of the House

2007-02-10T08:24:00.000-08:00

Without further ado, some pics of the house (for those of you who have been waiting patiently--and even for those of you who have NOT!).

This was taken a month ago when we still had a little snow left - first story external walls were complete but no internal framing is evident. Taken from the great room looking out down the street.

Looking through the future den and mudroom toward the driveway.

Now with internal framing - the den/schoolroom.

Half of the trusses are in place.

Looking toward the master bedroom, bath, closet (standing in the great room).

Triolet on Ezra

2007-02-01T22:15:00.000-08:00

Since I just finished blogging about the two older boys, I thought I'd include a sample of some of the poetry they've written during this past school year. A triolet is an 8 line poem with the rhyme scheme abaaabab. Line 1 is repeated as lines 4 and 7 and line 2 is repeated as line 8. This was a really fun one and, with the exception of my helping them to find rhyming words and steering them a bit, this is all Brandt and Gresham's work.

Triolet on Ezra 9-10
In astonishment I've torn my beard;
God's Israel has pagan wives!
They're free but from the truth they've veered;
In astonishment I've torn my beard.
Our children are not properly reared;
The time is now to live new lives!
In astonishment I've torn my beard;
God's Israel has pagan wives.

Gresham

2007-02-01T21:21:00.000-08:00

What can be said about Gresham as he approaches seven years old? Or, more appropriately, what can't be said about Gresham? He's Jim Carrey and Maurice Chevalier in one. He's the believer of the best in everyone--so trusting of others despite the many times we've burned him that sometimes he makes me want to cry for shame. He has never met a stranger yet strangely is the most reserved in our branch of the Bergeron family--yet strangely is capable of the most unexpected and very loud noises at any given moment. If you can't find Gresham, he is most likely in some "scuddly" (his word, not mine) corner of the house talking to . . . his shadow. You'd think that two brothers and a sister might be enough, yet Gresham never seems to have enough friends. "Shadow" apparently makes the fifth child in the Bergeron household.

Gresham is the first child who made me understand why most parents like to send their children away to school; yet he is also the child who would fare the worst in a school environment. Either that or it's his teacher who would fare poorly. It's not that he doesn't like school and it's not that he's a troublemaker. Correction: it's not that he means to start trouble. He just has a knack for drawing himself and everyone else into whatever spontaneous version of a party that he has invented for the moment. As his parents, it's a huge challenge for us to both train him toward self-control and yet still enjoy him as the amazingly creative blessing that he is. Gresham is a child who revels in being enjoyed. Despite his aversion to books and lined paper, he loves learning. Science experiments, sculpture, drawing and painting, inventing poems, memorizing extremely long verses, inventing complicated stories--these are all Gresham's strengths. Yes, we still require that he sit still during Latin and during family worship and that he write out his spelling words and participate in the reading; but we also try to give him ample time for less "bookish" stuff. Gresham's learning theme: "If you can build it, I will come!" Nevertheless, he is slowly acquiring a love of reading, thanks in part to the Hardy Boys. Being a girl myself, I'd have never guessed that's what it would take. We tried Ramona books. We even tried Nate the Great--but it was The Bears on Hemlock Mountain that did the trick during the week that Daddy was the teacher . . . "because that's a REAL book, Mom (i.e. like what my big brother is reading)." Gresham really enjoys soccer, football, rollerblading, street hockey--but he only seems to understand one speed . . . FAST. We're cringing a little as we contemplate what that may mean on the slopes this winter!

Gresham is one of those children with a tender conscience who, I think, will never have a "crisis of conversion." He is being raised in a covenant home. He knows the promises and capacities and characteristics of the Lord and still he chooses simple trust. He is sad about his sin--sometimes even deeply sorry--but it's never expressed in the passionate way that we sometimes project upon repentance. There is obstinacy in him and, of course, ample evidence of his sin nature, but he is one of those children who always desires the nearness of Jesus. It doesn't ever sit well for him to stand outside "the city of blessing" (Revelation 21)--even for a little while. He is constantly seeking restoration with his God and never doubts the power of Jesus to keep him in that relationship of blessing. He forgives readily and, I trust, is therefore forgiven much (Matthew 6:14-15).

Cabbage & Carrot Stir-Fry with Toasted Cumin & Lime

2007-02-01T21:04:00.000-08:00

Serves 6
from Fine Cooking January 2007

This dish can be served warm or cold (like cole slaw). I served it cold at the squadron. It can also be used as a filling for enchiladas--although I haven't ops tested that one yet?!?

1 1/2 teaspoon cumin seeds
2 Tablespoons canola oil (I use grapeseed oil instead)
a few drops of chili oil if you have some (my addition)--chili oil is available at Trader Joe's
1/2 teaspoon freshly cracked peppercorns
1/2 jalapeno or serrano, finely chopped
6 cups thinly sliced green cabbage (about 2/3 of a medium cabbage)--I use a cheapy "mandoline" from Pampered Chef to do this step but you can also use a food processor
2 cups julienned or grated carrots
2 1/2 teaspoons kosher salt; more to taste
1 1/2 teaspoons granulated sugar or honey
1/2 cup loosely packed fresh cilantro sprigs, finely chopped
3 Tablespoons fresh lime juice (I wish I'd cut this back to 1 or 2 Tablespoons but it's obviously your preference)

Toast the cumin seeds in a small skillet over medium-high heat, stirring frequently, until deeply browned and beginning to smoke, 3-5 minutes. Transfer to a bowl to cool and then pulse in your blender or spice grinder until you have a fine powder.

Heat the grapeseed and chili oils with the coriander and peppercorns in a large skillet on your biggest burner (or in a wok if you have one). Add the jalapeno and cook until sizzling and just starting to soften, 1 minute. Then add in the cabbage and carrots. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the cabbage has wilted yet is still al dente, 3-4 minutes. Stir in the freshly ground cumin, salt, and sugar and cook for 30 seconds more. Stir in the cilantro and lime juice and taste for seasoning.

Chicken Tikki Masala & Chicken Tandoori

2007-02-01T20:33:00.000-08:00

This is the Indian chicken dish that I made for the squadron during night flights last week. It seemed to be a bit hit so I thought I'd include it here. I will note dairy substitutions where necessary.

One note on the spices: It really does make a difference if you use fresh spices. If you've had the same cumin sitting in your pantry for 2 years, throw it out and place an order with Penzey's. When we had to get rid of dairy and processed sugar and wheat, we took refuge in really wonderful spices and I'm convinced that fresh spices are one of the secrets of excellent cooks. You won't pay anymore at Penzey's (most times you'll pay a lot less if you order in bulk) but it does take a bit more planning to assure that you have the appropriate spice at the right time. Try to combine your order with other friends as the shipping is a pain if you're only placing a small order. You'll find garam masala and a myriad of other glorious Indian curry powders (try the Rogan Josh and Vindaloo mixes as well--highly recommended by Brian and the kids) under the headings "Spices, Herbs, and Seasonings A-E" and then click on "Curry Powders." And just in case you don't like what we white bread Americans always call "curry powder," do not despair. Curry, in my amateur opinion, is just another word for "really great mix of spices." This dish does not taste of boring yellow curry powder.

First, you have to make Chicken Tandoori. You don't need a tandoor to do this, contrary to what I'd heard previously--just an ordinary vanilla oven will do.

Chicken Tandoori
from Fine Cooking, Oct/Nov 2006
Serves 6

12 bone-in chicken thighs, skin removed
1 cup plain yogurt (I used plain soy yogurt)
1/3 cup fresh lemon juice (I used lime juice because we had limes in plenitude)
1 Tablespoon peeled and finely chopped fresh ginger
1 Tablespoon finely chopped garlic
2 teaspoons ground coriander
2 teaspoons ground cumin
2 teaspoons garam masala
1 1/2 teaspoons kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon cayenne
1 lemon, cut in half

Marinate the chicken:
With a sharp knife cut slits into the chicken thighs almost to the bone. In a large shallow bowl mix the yogurt, lemon juice, ginger, and garlic, coriander, cumin, garam masala, salt and cayenne. Add the chicken, turning to coat completely. Make sure that the marinade gets into all of the slits of the chicken. Cover and marinate in the fridge at least 2 hours but up to 12 hours.

Roast the chicken:
Position a rack in the center of your oven and heat to 425F. Transfer the chicken to a large baking sheet (I love my Nordic Ware "Natural Bakeware" Half Sheet), discarding any remaining marinade. Roast until the juices run clear or an instant-read thermometer measures 170 in the thickest part of the thigh--approximately 25-30 minutes. Remove from oven and squeeze the lemon juices over the thighs.

Chicken Tikki Masala
from Fine Cooking, Oct/Nov 2006

1 2-in long hot green chile (preferably serrano), stemmed & chopped
1 1-in piece of fresh ginger, peeled and chopped
1 28-oz. can whole peeled tomatoes
8 Tablespoons unsalted butter or Earth Balance
1 recipe Roasted Tandoori Chicken, meat removed from bone in large pieces (try not to shred)
2 teaspoons sweet paprika
2 Tablespoons cumin seeds, toasted lightly in a saute pan and ground fine in blender or spice grinder
(yes, it does taste better when you grind the spices yourself)
1 cup heavy cream (I omitted the cream for my family and it was still delicious)
kosher salt to taste
2 teaspoons garam masala
3/4 cup coarsely chopped fresh cilantro

In a blender or food processor, pulse the chili, ginger, and tomatoes until pureed. Set aside.

Melt 6 Tablespoons of the butter in a large Dutch oven over medium heat. When the foam subsides, add about 1/3 of the chicken and cook, stirring frequently, until chicken absorbs some butter and begins to brown, 3-4 minutes. With a slotted spoon, transfer the chicken to a plate. Repeat with remaining 2 batches of chicken.

Add the remaining 2 Tablespoons butter to the pan. When it's melted, add the paprika and cumin and stir until pieces just begin to darken, 10-15 seconds.

Immediately add the tomato mixture. Simmer vigorously, stirring frequently, until the sauce has thickened slightly, 6-8 minutes. Add the cream (optional) and 1 teaspoons kosher salt and stir well.

Add the chicken and stir gently to mix. Reduce the heat to medium low and simmer, uncovered, stirring occasionally, for 10 minutes. Stir in the garam masala and remaining cumin. Remove from the heat, cover, and allow to rest for 15 minutes. Taste and add more salt if necessary. Transfer to a serving bowl and garnish with cilantro.

Brandt

2007-01-24T22:20:00.000-08:00

Enough about the wonder of HAVING children and a little more detail ABOUT them, you say? Introducing Brandt, our firstborn--and he won't let you forget it... Brandt turned nine in November--as though we needed a reminder that our days of grand and exclusive influence in his life are now on the wane rather than on the rise. Not that I expect the teenage years to be a nightmare--rather this past birthday has been a gentle reminder that we're halfway to raising an 18-year-old who could, in theory, support himself with a job, go to college, be drafted, or trot off to Europe with a backpack on his own dime! I am so thankful that our situation in life allows us to homeschool Brandt so that the next nine years with him are ones that we will see, enjoy, and respond to with our own eyes and ears.

Brandt entered the world with a piercing scream and an extreme sensitivity to all stimuli but has gradually learned to accommodate the rigors of the 21st century. He started out as an easily irritated toddler who nevertheless had an enormously accommodating heart for a (very) select group of friends, parents, and grandparents. He has retained the generous heart, remains fiercely loyal to that original group of friends & family, and has lost more than a little of the irritation. Nevertheless, he still likes to know The Master Plan at all times, which, in a family of six with a fighter pilot for a father, is more easily expected than delivered. By the grace of God, he will learn to trust Providence a little more. I have great faith for I am personally familiar with this strength which so easily turns into occasion to sin!

This year has seen a huge change in Brandt's heart. For years we were faithless and therefore hopeless in our observation of what seemed to us a coldness toward the things of God--even skepticism. That's right, I said "skepticism"--from a three-year-old. And then from a four-year old and a five-year old. But over the past three years, God has used His word, His discipline, and even our failures & confessions to continually soften our son's heart and to cause him to TRUST. This past year we noticed a sincere desire to repent of sin when he was confronted and a longing to know more of the things of God. Brandt started asking us about the Lord's Supper and about the blessings of being in the family of God. On the day he made his profession of faith at Covenant in Florida, you should have heard the booming voice with which he answered the Book of Church Order! And the excitement on his face when he first tasted the sacraments: you might have actually guessed it was spiritual food for our souls...

Brandt is constantly thinking of kindnesses he can deliver to anyone in his circle. His "acts of charity" fund is constantly sapped whereas his "spending" fund grows and grows while he considers the perfect use for it--PERFECTION being a major driver in our little boy's psyche. Nevertheless, he is growing much more patient with himself--and sweet and tender with his little brother Seth and his sister Eva. Brian and I have both observed him counseling his sister with God's word and holding her little hand gently when she is in the midst of some impetuous leap into sin. And although Brandt swore eternal enmity with our second born, Gresham, the week after he was born, he has now learned to value him as the greatest and best friend a boy could have. The two are inseparable and have sworn undying loyalty to each other I think, whether we're talking football, legos, street hockey, soccer, roller blades, drawing, paper airplanes, wrestling, or bedtime stories.

One of Brandt's favorites is anything--and I mean ANYTHING--to do with college football. Although we don't have a television, he and Gresham would spend every moment of their Autumn Saturday in front of the game tracker on our computer if, well, you know what Nazis we are with Media! Somehow that teeny little box of graphics-only plays on a computer screen has managed to teach him every intricacy of the game--a game which, despite the four males in our family, continues to elude me as to its rules or its meaning. Something to do with "on the fields of friendly strife" I think? Leave it to me to think of a poem when I ought to be thinking about goals--er, touchdowns?

That's Brandt, in a nutshell. I could go on for hours. I'm so humbled by the fact that a little man with great promise has been allowed into my lost little life. He brought us purpose toward God when we needed that kick in the pants. And now he is turning into a straight, strong arrow in our quiver.

A Funny Story

2007-01-17T22:33:00.000-08:00

Last night my Bosch mixer literally stopped dead in the middle of blending some bean dip for dinner!!! Oh sad sad day--but even sadder little Seth! When it died, I looked down and put my hands around it and said "Oh.... It DIED!" And he, whose only experience with death happened 6 weeks ago when Troy died, looked at me in abject terror with chin quivering. I leaned down to hug him and tried to explain to him that the Bosch wasn't a REAL part of our family--only a small kitchen appliance--that everyone was okay and that we could replace the Bosch, etc. etc. etc. but he just started to sob and sob. Reality check for Cara. I still had what really mattered.

A short history of the above Bosch machine: my sister-in-law's mother, sweet woman whom I've known for years, bought it at a garage sale a long time ago. Its age has never been determined but I suppose that now might be the time to pull out my carbon dating equipment--if I actually believed in the concept of carbon dating! Nevertheless I know that this Bosch mixer lived a long and honorable life. It sat in Shauna's kitchen (sister-in-law) and then in a box in their garage for years before it ever came my way. Even if it had only served faithfully in our family for the six years we'd had it, it would have paid for itself a few times over. Never mind that: I forgot it was free. Even better! I'd always wondered how long it could last with the abusive food experiments I'd heaped upon it--barley bread being a very memorable one. This time I'm going to get the new and improved cookie beaters (been through several pairs of those)...

Book Meme

2007-01-17T21:21:00.000-08:00

I have no idea what a "meme" is but I know that one of my best friends in the whole world tagged me to do it--so here goes...

I was tagged by Christina for this book meme. (It's kind of like an online game of tag. Someone posts questions and answers them, then "tags" the next person who is "it".) Here's what you're supposed to do.

1) Grab the book closest to you
2) Open to page 123, go down to the fourth sentence
3) Post the text of the following 3 sentences
4) Name the author and book title
5) Tag three people to do the same

"And there is nothing that is deformed with any natural or moral deformity; but everything is beauteous to behold, and amiable and excellent in itself... All the persons that belong to the blessed society of heaven are lovely. The Father of the family is lovely, and so are all his children; the head of the body is lovely, and so are all the members..."

This quote is from a book that I bought Brian for Christmas called "Heaven on Earth: Capturing Jonathan Edwards's Vision of Living In Between" by Stephen J. Nichols. Nichols is a professor at Lancaster Bible College and Grad School. In the book he explores the idea that Jonathan Edwards espoused that we ought not to be always looking ONLY to our eternal end (i.e. heaven) but we should, in this life, be considering how God's kingdom has come and is coming through Christ for the here and now. Anything that challenges us to think beyond the Wednesday-night-and-Sunday-morning-ministry mentality is always intriguing to me. As Brian so aptly put it last week (when I was in Phoenix helping Ginger and he was here in Oregon homeschooling all the children for the entire week) "If you didn't believe that your daily routine and responsibilities with the children were your spiritual act of worship, I can see how you'd really wonder about the whole point of your life."

I tag Shonda, Kristi, and Marie to do the next book meme; but I have no idea how to link their names to their blog; so if any of you savvy bloggers are reading this, please enlighten me soon!

Also a confession, "Heaven on Earth" was not the nearest book to me. The nearest one also happened to be "The Valley of Vision"--but since Christina already "memed" it (whatever that means), I thought I'd give you something new to contemplate. I'm so glad that Valley of Vision got a plug though, because next to the Bible, that book of prayers has been the single most instrumental tool that God has used in my life to draw me nearer to Him.

Oh, and P.S. I'm really trying to post some blogs of each of our children in the coming weeks. I didn't do a Christmas letter this year but the children have nevertheless grown and changed significantly.

Marveling

2007-01-04T20:25:00.000-08:00

Over the past month as we've tumbled together emotions and events to contemplate both Troy's death and Christ's birth, I'm continually struck by two contrasting thoughts:

1. Grief and its threats always temper even our happiest moments and yet
2. Joy always cuts a rough valley through pain

The kids and Brian and I began memorizing Luke 2 long before we started eating turkey and, as with anything you do or see day after day, you begin to notice all sorts of minutia that previously escaped your notice. In a passage that we tend to associate with great news and great joy, there is also great fear and sorrow. The shepherds feared the angels. They didn't just "reverence" them in our postmodern way of dumbing down the word "fear." No, they were pee-in-their-pants AFRAID. Then Simeon turned around from his beautiful prayer of blessing the Savior and "blessed" Mary and Joseph with the news that a sword would pierce Mary's soul "that the thoughts of many hearts may be revealed." And then Jesus had the audacity to leave his parents for three days. Have you ever thought you'd lost your child for even 15 minutes? We have--TWICE--and both instances leave me panic-stricken in the remembering. It seems that after the "Glory to God in the highest and, on earth, peace, goodwill toward men" there's not much left but numb terror and disasters of the spirit--and Luke isn't even the one mentioning "Rachel weeping for her children" because every Jewish boy under the age of two was cut down.

Yet in the midst of their palpable fear and pain, Luke tells us that the shepherds were glorifying and praising God. He says that everyone who heard of Jesus' birth from the shepherds MARVELED. He tells us that Mary and Joseph MARVELED when Simeon blessed them. He tells us that the people who heard Jesus were ASTONISHED and that his parents were AMAZED when they heard their son speaking in the temple. Luke says twice that Mary "kept all these things and pondered them in her heart."

I'm not sure what to say about this past month. We are still hurting in the loss of Troy and in our compassion for Ginger and the kids. Troy's funeral was perhaps the hardest thing we've ever done--not only because we were dealing with death but because we were dealing with shock at the same time. We miss our friend and some days it seems that the memories will never fade enough to alleviate the pain. To be certain, Troy's death tempered all of the exquisite joy and warmth that belongs to Christians at Christmas; but I was most especially aware, in most coherent moments, of God's incredible ability to comfort. I watched Ginger go through a memorial service attended by 1800 people and a beautiful but remarkably public funeral with the utmost grace and courage. We moved through week after week marveling at the "realness" of God's presence and pondering much in our hearts. There was so much more joy in the turn of our daughter's curls, in Gresham's snaggletooth grin, in Seth's precocious looks ("you and I are in this joke together, Mom"), in Brandt's deadpan imitation of Luigi, in the glory of a new little Bergeron--Sophia Faith, in the fact that Brian was with us in person at Christmas. "Marvel" is the only word to describe the mix of thoughts that continually ran through our minds. There really are no guarantees in this life--except the one that brings more pure joy than any other ... "and lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age. Amen." (Matthew 28:20)

In Memory of Troy

2006-11-29T23:09:00.000-08:00

Troy no longer lives on this earth. I say this to make myself believe it even now--after three long days. He died flying his F-16 near a group of insurgents in Baghdad. Our U.S. ground forces were surrounded by enemies. F-16s were called in to strafe the area at low level. Somehow, in the middle of the fray, Troy's jet crashed and Troy passed from this life into his Father's arms. I still cry as I read these words--as though they are brand new to me--as though I haven't repeated them to myself twenty times a day.

O come, thou Dayspring from on high,
And cheer us by thy drawing nigh;
Disperse the gloomy clouds of night,
And death's dark shadows put to flight.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.

It is to us that the gloomy clouds of night are left. It is to Brian, who silently mourns the loss of a friend who was, essentially, a brother. And, most harmfully, to Ginger, his faithful and capable wife. And to his sons Boston and Greyson. And to his daughters Isabella, Annaliese, and Aspen who will not remember their Daddy well enough. And to countless friends and fellow pilots. And to me. It is to us that the days seem dark and the nights seem long without our friend. It is to us that death's dark shadows all but drown out the memories of Troy's amazing chicken fried steak, his booming laughter, his copious hugs that flew so naturally from his Texas arms, his love of wrestling with his boys and ours. It is to us that the gloomy clouds of night encroach upon our knowledge of him as a hero, an unfailing friend, a romantic husband, and a passionate father.

But Troy, who once told us that he prayed Psalm 144 before he flew, knew that "Man is like a breath; His days are like a passing shadow." He knew the risks and he was willing to pay the price because he knew that the Lord has numbered all our days. The enemies have stolen his body but Jesus was 2000 years quicker on the uptake. He said "Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. But rather fear Him who is able to destroy both soul and body in hell. Are not two sparrows sold for a copper coin? And not one of them falls to the ground apart from your Father's will. But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Do not fear, therefore, you are of more value than many sparrows" Matthew 10:28-31. Troy confessed his Heavenly Father before men and now his Savior is confessing Troy before his Heavenly Father.

Someday soon the Lord will speak peace to us as well--even here in this postmodern life and on this groaning earth--just as He did 2000 years ago. Isaiah 51:12 "I, even I, am He who comforts you. Who are you that you should be afraid of a man who will die, and of the son of a man who will be made like grass?" We are not afraid. We will soon rejoice. The Dayspring from on High will, one morning, awaken us with joy. Emmanuel will come to us. Oh Lord, we believe. Help thou our unbelief!

Saturdays

2006-11-20T23:10:00.000-08:00

For a few years now, we've been trying to make our weekends look different--and not just so that we can claim to be the "weirdest" family in town. After reading a book or two on honoring the Lord's Day (Sunday), we looked at each other and said "Great! But what does this really LOOK like?" If we're not going to turn on the television or study or do chores or play catchup on Sundays, our Saturdays are going to be really HARD. And so it seemed--at first. Part of the reason that choosing to honor the Lord on Sunday is difficult is because it does not look the same for every family. We can't just look at what the Johnsons and the Siebens and the Tiffanys and the Andersons do on Sunday to determine God's declared will for our family. It is the job of the Holy Spirit to "teach us and remind us of all things." He will speak different truths to different families at different times and this is not relativism because the priciple remains the same: to honor the Sovereign Lord of the Universe in very practical ways and, thereby, to give us, His children, His BEST!

And so it stands to reason that our Saturdays don't look the same as other families' either. But the basic principles are these:

1. Sundays belong to the Lord for His glory and our rest. Sundays belong to the Lord for worship. Even the focus of our rest and our games and our delight should be the worship of God. I should perhaps give scriptural clarification here but I think that if you're truly interested in honoring the Lord on this day set apart from all others, you can think for five minutes and come up with about 3 verses that lead you to the same conclusion. For us, the first one starts "Six days you shall labor and do all your work but the seventh day is a sabbath to the Lord your God..."

2. Because Sundays belong to rest and the cessation of normal activity, Saturdays must belong to hard work, preparation, and the continuation of normal activity. So without further ado, our Saturdays. They may look better and more human than what you'd expect from such a "weird" family.

6:30 A.M. Little ones are up and usually cuddling in bed with Brian & me. I pretend to be asleep. The kids always go to Brian's side of the bed. I'm obviously better at faking sleep than he is. Older boys are in family room reading their bibles, playing games, reading books. No math today.
7:00 A.M. Brian and I still trying to catch a little extra cuddle time with two kids wedged on/between/below us
7:15 A.M. Adults finally give up on cuddle time and take a raincheck for Sunday night
7:30 A.M. Beds get stripped of dirty sheets, laundry hauled from the four corners of the earth/house to the washing machine
8:00 A.M. Brian starts the vacuum cleaner. I'm in the master bath "getting ready" and cleaning the bathroom in between takes with the curling iron and helping Eva with pretend "makeup."
8:30 A.M. Boys are finishing up bathroom cleaning
9:00 A.M. I realize I'm still wearing PJs but I go in to make the barley pancakes anyway
9:30 A.M. The whole family sits down to barley pancakes with all of the toppings they could haul from the fridge: peanut butter for the older two, cashew butter for the younger two & Brian, fruit spreads, applesauce, real maple syrup, honey, butter, Earth Balance, homemade berry syrup
10:00 A.M. Older boys have cleaned up breakfast dishes, wiped down the table and everyone sits down for bible reading and prayer time
10:30 A.M. I take a few swipes with the dust rag through one or two rooms in the house, Brian continues with the vacuum. Boys get down to the hard work of playing and wrestling (go outside, boys!)
11:00 A.M. Shopping list still incomplete, I set off with one of the boys (whoever's "date with Mom" is today) to the grocery stores: Cash 'n Carry for Asian staples and requisite large bags of beans, Fred Meyer for produce and natural foods, Thunderbird for water, wine, and local specialties (Masala spices)
11-2 P.M. Brian works outside, plays with Eva, throws football with boys, and holds down the fort. Meanwhile, I take my "date" out to lunch and try to devise a wheat-free, dairy-free, sugar-free treat to be had while shopping. Sometimes it's to no avail and we settle for an hour of painting tiles at the paint-your-own-pottery shop in town.
2 P.M. Brian's helping me with the groceries. Meanwhile, I'm pondering: What to make for dinner tonight and Sunday lunch? What can be heated up nicely or thrown together after the 1.5 hour car ride back from Medford?
3 P.M. Dusting rag comes out again. Boys are glued to the college football game tracker on the computer (did I mention we have a completely disconnected TV?) Brian's monitoring the boys' consumption of Game Tracker.
4 P.M. Little ones wake from naps and mass chaos ensues. Dinner is in prep stage. Clothes are coming out of the dryer. Sheets are everywhere. Some clean clothes are being dutifully put away. Others end up "accidentally" back in the laundry basket. Thanks Evangeline! Brian is in the bedrooms wrestling with mattresses. If it weren't so possibly detrimental to his soul, it'd be REALLY funny--like America's Home Videos type of funny! All the children want to help with dinner. They also want to watch a DVD. They also want to play Scrambled States of America. But they can't get any answers from the Scrambled States of Mommy and Daddy.
5 P.M. Everyone sits down to dinner. World peace has not been achieved but peace with God is about to be savored. Soon and very soon...
6 P.M. Brian's off to soccer practice--usually with the two older boys in tow.
6:30 P.M. Eva and Seth have game time with Mommy. Anyone played "Station Celebration" five times lately? I have.
7:00 P.M. Time for Bible stories and hymn singing with the little ones
7:30 P.M. Bedtime for Seth and Eva--WHEW!!! As though I need reminding: "Sratch my back and sin me song Mommy. Jesus Love Me? Pray?"
8:00 P.M. How can I turn tonight's leftovers into something delicious for tomorrow? Okay, maybe not. You win some, you lose some, you know. That especially applies in the kitchen. On good nights we had roast chicken and it becomes the Infamous Bergeron Tortilla Soup. Maybe I'll go fold laundry for awhile instead...
8:30 P.M. Brian and older boys are back from soccer. Oh, and they listened to the end of the college football games in the car for "a few minutes." Big boys are off to bed and I go in to pick out what everyone will wear tomorrow. Clothes get laid out on the couch.
9:00 P.M. Brian drags out the behemoth ironing board and gets to the ironing. I finish Sunday lunch and clean up the pots and pans.
9:30 P.M. Time to get ready for bed. Will anyone notice if I don't wash my hair tonight?
10:00 P.M. Lights out. Alarm set for 6 A.M. We're ready for that rest.

Barley Pancakes

2006-11-20T22:51:00.000-08:00

4 cups barley flour
1/2 cup flax seed, cornmeal, or just more barley flour
4 teaspoons baking powder
2 teaspoons salt
4 Tablespoons honey
4 large eggs
2/3 cup safflower or grapeseed oil
3 cups rice milk
1 Tablespoon Earth Balance or margarine

Stir together dry ingredients in a large mixing bowl. Make a "well" in the middle of the dry ingredients and add in honey, eggs, oil, and rice milk. Beat the wet ingredients together and then stir gently into the dry ingredients. Do not overmix (thanks Granny, for the good advice)!!!

Heat the griddle or frying pan to medium temperature. Don't let it get too hot or these will surely burn. When griddle is hot, coat with the Earth Balance or margarine and swirl to coat the pan. Pour batter by 1/3 cupfuls onto the griddle and wait until you see the edges just drying a bit before you flip. These are not as sturdy as wheat pancakes but they are almost as fluffy! They're worth a few practice batches so that you can perfect them.

Makes about 18 medium sized pancakes.

Just some notes on barley flour:
1. Grind your own if you can. The nutrients are much more available when you grind the flour and use it immediately than if it sits on the shelf for a month (or longer) before you buy it.
2. Barley is an excellent source of dietary fiber, selenium, phosphorous, copper, and manganese. Moreover, the variety of fiber in barley breaks down into butyric acid (and a bunch of other stuff) which friendly bacteria in the large intestine eat to grow strong. Finally, barley binds to and removes from the body cholesterol-containing bile.
3. Anecdotal evidence only but I find that the adults in our family can eat barley carbs to our hearts' content without gaining an ounce. I can't even come close to saying the same for wheat--not even whole wheat (which I still love anyway)!

Buildings

2006-10-30T19:01:00.000-08:00

Before I get to the topic, I'm going to include the Bergeron quote of the day...

Seth: "Mom, I'm really tired out tonight."
Mom: "Really, Seth?"
Seth: "Yes. I spent all day with you and that has me REALLY tired out."

The following is a reality list of many sorts. If you ever desire to be your own general contractor, this is the list that will help you--and perhaps scare you a bit. Brian and I invested our "one thousand hours"--the requisite number of hours required to be well-prepared and reality-checked if you desire to GC a house yourself--before we finally hired Travis (our GC). "What a waste," some might say. But we believe in the God of processes--the God of the "long obedience in the same direction" (Eugene Peterson?). More on those processes at the end.

In order to build, we began by searching numerous databases of ready-made house plans. Time amounts expended are approximate and, for us, just as well forgotten.

Searching through house plans--80 hours
Measuring rooms and mocking up potential spaces--5 hours
Measuring our furniture--5 hours
Redesigning potential house plans--20 hours
Talking/e-mailing with our architect--20 hours
Talking to potential general contractors--5 hours
Resketching proposed houseplans to-scale for input to architect--8 hours
Researching building efficiencies, cost savings techniques, energy efficiencies and building materials--40 hours
Phone calls/e-mails to friends who've been through the building process--17 hours
Searching for interior and exterior finishes--150 hours
Driving to and from subcontractors' houses to drop off/pick up plans--40 hours
Talking with subcontractors on the phone and in person--20 hours
Crunching numbers on Excel to make the budget work--80 hours
Talking with lenders--20 hours
Meeting with the Architectural Review Committee--2 hours
Reviewing plans with County--2 hours
Talking with each other about the project--30 hours
Talking to the Engineer/Reengineering the plans--8 hours
Finding and comparing bids from the
Excavator
Plumber
Electrician
Framer
Structural Insulated Panel manufacturer
Insulated Concrete Forms
Engineering staking
Asphalt paving
Concrete foundation and flatwork
In-floor rading heating
HVAC
Roofer
Photovoltaic Panels (didn't do those because of the orientation of our house)
Roof Trusses
Lumber Supplier
Door Manufacturers
Window Manufacturers
Fireplace
Plumbing Fixtures
Painter
Deck Carpenter
Flooring
Appliances
Cabinetry
Countertops
Finish Carpentry
Tile and Tile Labor
Garage Door
THOSE BIDS AND CONVERSATIONS finish off the remaining 480-ish hours!!!

Shocking, huh? Further complicating the process is the fact that every single part of the process hinges on another part. Should we minimize the master bath space and run the risk that we can't find a bathtub narrow enough to fit the space (anyone know where I can find a bathtub 72"x32"?) Should you put a double-hung window with mullions in a spot that needs to be screened since the screen will block the view of the mullions? Do you design the house around a kitchen faucet or the great room ceiling? Do you choose your paint colors first or your countertops? The tradeoffs and interrelationships sometimes make my head ache--and I literally don't care nearly as much as most people I know! The ideal and the real deal will never meet up. Our act of creation will require countless people working countless hours to make a product that will, Lord willing, meet our needs; but it will not be perfect by any stretch of the imagination. If all goes as it ought, it will be a strong building that warms peoples bodies and nurtures their souls when they enter--but there will be divots and dings and gaping seams even before we move in.

Last night, in preparation to show our children the wonder of the Incarnation during the month of December, I happened to be reading through a marvelous book called "From Conception to Birth" by Alexander Tsiaras and Barry Worth (caution: not even for older children without some discretionary supervision). It is a secular pondering and showing, through in utero photography, of the wonder of a human being growing from fertilized egg to full-term baby. Here is Worth's commentary:

"Imagine yourself as the world's tallest skyscraper, built in 9 months and germinating from a single brick. As that "seed" brick divides, it gives rise to every other type of material needed to construct and operate the finished tower--a million tons of steel, concrete, mortar, insulation, tile, wood, granite, solvents, carpet, cable, pipe, and glass as well as all furniture, phone systems, heating and cooling units, plumbing, electrical wiring, artwork, and computer networks, including software. This brick and its daughter bricks also know exactly how much of each to make, where to send them, and when and how to piece it all together. Now imagine further that when the building is done it has the capacity to love, hate, converse, do calculus, compose symphonies, and have rapturous physical relations with other towers, a prime result of which is to create new buildings even more elaborate than itself (p. 5)."

Now imagine that the men who so poetically acknowledge the breathtaking perfection of a creative system unequaled and unreplicated--imagine that these men do not acknowledge the Creator of that creative system. They use plenty of divine language--phrases like "a miracle every day" and "drama" and "a grand plan for human reproduction" and "triumph in shape and structure" and the "whole magnificent design"; but no understanding that if the process were up to us--our trying, our reaching, our EVOLVING, we'd never even make it to the next breath. These men are visually and verbally SMART. But they are also blind. They probably haven't tried to build a house (or a skyscraper) either.

Brian and I have made so many rookie blunders in this house building process-and that with what we believed to be the utmost care and plenty of research! How thankful I am to God that He did the creating of our four children--and that He is not only the author of our "birth by water" but He is also the author of our "birth by the Spirit" (John 3). And God has so graciously designed the processes of physical birth AND growing in His grace so that it is slow enough for the human mind to take in a bit of it here and there. For more on this from a Christian perspective (though not as visually stunning), I highly recommend Dr. David Menton's lecture on DVD "Fearfully and Wonderfully Made," available through Answers in Genesis.

Ephesians 2:19-22
"Now, therefore, you are no longer strangers and foreigners, but fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God, having been built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Jesus Christ Himself being the chief cornerstone, in whom the whole building, being fitted together, grows into a holy temple in the Lord, in whom you also are being built together for a dwelling place of God in the Spirit."

Losing My Cool

2006-10-28T16:12:00.000-07:00

This is a poem that I've loved from the moment I saw it. Thanks again Cathy Thompson for knowing decades ago that I'd need this someday. I thought I'd include it here lest you think, by virtue of my last few blogs, that I'm some sort of spiritual powerhouse. I'm not. When I'm good, I'm very very good. And then it's really not me anyway. It's just the working of the Holy Spirit through me. And when I'm bad, I'm horrid. Or so goes a different poem than the one I'm including below. And oh yeah, that's a picture of Evangeline in March 2006.

Losing My Cool
by Debbie Darling

Lord, I'm so tired of the same confession,
"I lost my cool"--
tired of staring Temper
in its ugly fanged face.
I'm tired of being bossed around
by an irrational two-year-old.
Can't someone ever take my part
and say "I know how you feel?"
All I ever hear is--
"These years go so quickly,"
and I feel guilty for my silent
"Not quickly enough for me!"
The years must graciously
retain only sweet memories
or all grandmothers have amnesia.
If I think clearly
I know this is only
a tiny portion of my life
but my heart cries out to ask...
"Will I ever read a whole book again
and not find scribbles on the crucial page?
Will I ever scrub the kitchen floor
and have it stay clean long
enough for anyone to believe I scrubbed it?
Will I ever do the wash,
hang it out,
fold it up,
iron it,
and put it away
in less than five days?
Will we ever have a conversation at the table
or wake up in our bed alone,
without little obstacles between us?"
I know that we will be alone all too soon--
and hate the quiet
(or so they tell me, although
I can't imagine it.)
But all I can feel is the now.
I know that this is the road
of the crucified Self-- but Lord,
I was hoping to be perfected
by something more dramatic,
not piddled
and spilled
and whined to death.
...
But I will not give up
because I know that you see
into this home
and into my heart
and into the future,
and not a hair is pulled out of my head
without Your notice, Your love,
Your comfort.

Potatoes

2006-10-28T00:30:00.000-07:00

Some of you are really not interested in my (meaningful to me) mental meaderings. You just want my recipes for non-allergenic foods. That's okay too. So here is my favorite recipe for potatoes (this month). I will add more as there are so many wonderful ways to enjoy this special root. It's non-allergenic and low in phenylalanine for all of the people I love most. This one's for you Marissa!

Olive Oil Gratin of Potatoes

4 Tablespoons plus 1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil
5 lbs. Yukon Gold or large Red potatoes
3 teaspoons dried french thyme
sea salt & freshly ground pepper
1 tsp. Better Than Bouillon, chicken base
1 c. purified water

Preheat oven to 375F with rack positioned in the middle of oven. Clean and skin the potatoes only in the eye areas. On a mandoline (mine is the cheap Pampered Chef version, not the real thing, but it still works for this recipe just fine), slice potatoes to about 1/8 to 1/16 inch thick. Into 2 separate 9x13 baking dishes, pour 2 Tablespoons olive oil and brush to coat the bottoms. Yes, this recipe makes a lot! In a large bowl, combine thyme, potatoes, and salt & pepper. Toss to coat potatoes and then pour potatoes into separate baking dishes, pressing down lightly to make them fit into pan. In a small saucepan, combine chicken base, water, and 1/2 cup olive oil. Bring to a simmer for 1 minute and then pour half over each pan of potatoes. Cover pans with foil and bake in oven for 25 minutes. Remove foil and press down on potatoes lightly with a spatula to flatten them all over. Return to oven for another 20 minutes. Press down on potatoes again and return to oven for a final 20 minute finish. Remove when potatoes are golden brown.

Power

2006-10-27T22:55:00.000-07:00

"Without deliberate awareness of the present risenness of Jesus, life is nonsense, all activity useless, all relationships are in vain. Living in the awareness of the risen Jesus is not a trivial pursuit."
- Brennan Manning in "Abba's Child"

The kids and I read through Hebrews a few weeks ago during our morning Bible time. Brandt and Gresham teased me because each day it seemed that I would end our time with "Wow! Some strong words for today, right kids?" But for this mom who is always looking for more power to do more than "just make it" through the day, Hebrews is a part of God's word that I never consider carefully enough. In its message is the power that I crave. I always seem to need an insane amount of forbearance, three extra hands to dry tears and tie shoes, a bigger lap for the little ones, better ears to actually HEAR the drywaller amid the screaming, a bigger heart to understand more, a stronger will, a different mind, an extra 15 minutes... There literally is never enough "Mommy" to go around, it seems, and yet to me it seems that I'm giving all that I can.

When Evangeline was born, Cathy Thompson (Brian's sweet "Sponsor Mom" from the Air Force Academy), sent me a timely card. Two years later, I can still picture the doorway in which I read it, the handwriting that inscribed the message, and the general meaning of the words: "If with three children you ever believed that you could do it all, that you could keep it all together, you will find that with four children this is finally impossible. Now the Lord has you where He wants you. You must begin to live 'in the power of His present risenness.'" From that day forward, that mandate has been my mantra in banal moments and pivotal times. Eva needs a diaper change but Seth needs his nose blown: Live in the power of His present risenness. Brandt needs to talk about some serious problems with a neighborhood friend but Gresham just came screaming into the house with a bleeding head: Live in the power of His present risenness. Eva fell and broke her leg and Brian's gone to Colorado for the weekend: Live in the power of His present risenness. Brandt broke his arm on the day our packers showed up: Live in the power of His present risenness. Our only daughter is hospitalized for the third time this year. Her vital signs are getting weaker: Live in the power of His present risenness.

There is no power in the words themselves; but there is power in the FACT that Jesus is now seated at the right hand of God the Father. In our house we like to ask this question: "Why is Jesus seated instead of standing?" Answer: "Because He has finished the work that the Father gave Him. He has already done all that is necessary to save us and sanctify us." That's what "It is finished" meant when Jesus spoke those words on the cross. I don't have to fear and fuss and fume and rage because I've been spiritually checked out of that rathole of despair that the Bible calls "The World" and checked into the Kingdom of God! Could I find a better position than this if I searched the earth high and low for a lifetime?

Hebrews 2:9
"But we see Jesus, who was made a little lower than the angels, for the suffering of death crowned with glory and honor, that He, by the grace of God, might taste death for everyone."
All possible fears are vanquished. Jesus tasted eternal death and physical death for me. What more can my grasping for control add to a done deal?

Hebrews 2:11-13
"For both He who sanctifies and those who are being sanctified are all of one, for which reason He is not ashamed to call them brethren, saying 'I will declare Your name to My brethren; In the midst of the assembly I will sing praise to You.' And again: 'I will put my trust in Him.' And again: 'Here am I and the children whom God has given Me.'"
I have been given to God the Father through the work of God the Son. I am the child of the Creator of the universe ... a "brethren" of Jesus. If God will not ignore the cries of His Son, He will not ignore the cries of His daughter. These are bold words! His power will flow to me and through me when He wills it to be so. I do not need to sink my fingernails in to what cannot be mine but instead open my hands gratefully to what He is choosing to give me at the moment when I need it most.

Hebrews 2:16
"For indeed He does not give aid to angels, but He does give aid to the seed of Abraham."
What more do I need than His aid?

Hebrews 2:17-18
"Therefore, in all things He had to be made like His brethren, that He might be a merciful and faithful High Priest in things pertaining to God, to make propitiation for the sins of the people. For in that He Himself has suffered, being tempted, He is able to aid those who are being tempted."
Jesus sees me. He sees you. He knows and aids because He WAS. He experienced the exact magnitude and genre--if not the exact predicament-- of the temptation that I face today. To be sure, His work was for the propitiation of the wrath of God against my sin; but it's also for all of these unbearable moments. It's for these moments so that instead of fretting and fighting with my intractable will, my impossible impatience, my "overwhelmedness," I can instead lay down in my Father's arms and simply "do the next thing." (Thank you, Elisabeth Elliot for that piece of advice)

I used to think that Christ's power was for salvation and that the subject ended there. Perhaps I wouldn't have stated it that way; but my actions and secret thoughts betrayed me. Overcoming sin always seemed to be a matter of "trying harder" and "remembering lessons from the past." And so I constantly failed. Because the power was all my own and it was no power at all. But the process of raising children kept my aching heart longing for some better way. How could I look Brandt in the eye and tell him to "try harder" when I knew very well that such advice couldn't hope to conquer the monster that lurked within? I'm not sure how the transformation happened, but I believe it culminated and crystallized in my mind when our congregation in Alaska memorized Hebrews 1:1-3:
"God, who at various times and in various ways spoke in time past to the fathers by the prophets, has in these last days spoken to us by His Son, whom He has appointed heir of all things, through whom also He made the worlds. who being the brightness of His glory and the express image of His person, and upholding all things by the word of His power, when He had by Himself purged our sins, sat down at the right hand of the Majesty on High."
I'm not sure I can think of a better reason to continue living and fighting joyfully!

Faith

2006-10-03T23:44:00.000-07:00

I guess my toenails are going to have to wait one more night for new polish because I've worked this blog over in my head long enough. And who am I kidding? I could probably wait until next SUMMER to remove my chipped polish and nobody but Brian would notice... Him and my girlfriends from Texas (you know who you are)...

Beginning of Blog - Stardate 10-4-06:

Hebrews 11:1-2
"Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. For by it the elders obtained a good testimony."

For the past two years, we've been engaged in that walk of faith called Building a House. Here's how it started and how it has progressed, with some copious commentary (feel free to skim) about the substance that we've hoped for and the evidence of God's faithful hands at work, usually unseen but sometimes eerily right in front of our dim eyes.

November 2004:
In a burst of faith or foolishness depending on how you slice it, Brian and I made a somewhat romantic decision (for us, at least) to leave our very young children with our parents in California and fly up to Klamath Falls, Oregon to look at property. What's in Klamath Falls, Oregon, you ask? Not much save 40,000 folks, a new Wal-Mart and a Fred Meyer. Okay, so there is also a little Air National Guard fighter pilot training base called Kingsley Field. And Brian happens to be a fighter pilot. And there is world-class fishing. And a million dollar soccer complex for kids. Still not sure what was going through our minds at the time, but the mountain air must have really gone to our heads, because by the time we left K Falls, we were the proud owners of a half-acre parcel of land. Brian's longing to get the coveted instructor pilot job at Kingsley was still a far-off hope and we were living in FLORIDA at the time. Don't worry. The story gets even weirder.

One year and several trips to Kingsley later, we received the happy news that all of my mother's praying to get her grandchildren back to the West Coast had been answered affirmatively. Brian was hired at Kingsley for the following year. We'd be moving in September of 2006. Yippeee!!! I began putting in the requisite THOUSAND HOURS that a person must in order to be their own general contractor. I read many books, pored over house plans, sketched and measured. Not that I expected to honcho that job alone but Brian was busy with work and I figured I could fill him in on the details later. We were, Lord willing, going to build a house on that half acre at the Running Y. There was just this little problem of how we could come up with the money in a market dominated by California refugees. Oops! I meant "retirees."

Two months later and two days before Christmas, we received a call from Brian's future squadron commander: "Could we come to Kingsley in early spring instead of fall?" Two weeks later, our house in Florida was on the market. And then we waited. And prayed. And waited. And prayed. We could see the housing market in Panama City getting soft and softer. But then, by coincidences too strange to actually be coincidences, we found the IDEAL buyer for our house. We closed one day before we left town--with a few weeks to spare before hurricane season rolled around again.

We might have been exultant--money in our pockets, perfect timing, perfect buyer, perfect EVERYTHING; but we could only find the strength to be tremulously grateful. To this date we still have several good friends trying to sell houses in that market. Just as the saving grace of God is something that swoops down and picks us up from where we were--dangling above the chasm (thank Jonathan Edwards for that analogy), we realized that God's mercy in that dealing was completely unmerited. We were thrilled with what WAS but sobered by the thought of what might have been. And sobered yet again in the knowing that, for our friends who have not yet sold their homes, God's grace is manifested in those situations as well. Somehow, in a way that seems so impossible to us, He is working out our good and His glory in parallel lines.

When we finally rolled into Klamath Falls, we'd covered over 3000 miles and spent 27 days living out of our minivan, with some short jaunts to Acadiana, the Grand Canyon, Sedona, Hemet, and two hospitals. More on that in another post. We felt and looked and smelled like The Grapes of Wrath, I'm sure. I'd never been so glad to squeeze our six bodies into a 1300 square foot rental house as I was on May 23, 2006. Well, that's not exactly true, as I'd done a very similar thing several times before in Brian's military career. Still, you can never underestimate the thankfulness and joy that comes in trading the minivan for a genuine house!

As soon as our furniture was delivered and unpacked, Brian and I both hit the ground running on the home building project. We'd already been working with our architect for several weeks. We were reading home building books voraciously. We were talking to many friends who'd already done it. We were heeding the warnings, avoiding the pitfalls. In our minds, we had our ducks lined up in a neat row. Until the initial cost estimates came in. The Lord took all our ducks out in one shot! We acknowledged this setback as being from His hand, still spent two nights reeling under the shock, and then started looking prayerfully at houses in town. Overpriced houses in town. Houses in town that required another $100K just to fix the giant crack in the foundation, repair the drywall, and put a laundry room somewhere besides the sagging basement...

We set the bedraggled ducks back up again and started collecting bids from subcontractors. If you're not a Christian, you'd probably call us a pair of idiots at this particular impasse. But, as Christians, we believed we were doing what the Bible calls "walking by faith and not by sight." We didn't have any ideas about what God was meaning by His actions but we took the words of a great saint (still living) to heart. Henry Krabbendam says "If God opens the door, run through it as fast and hard as you can until He slams it in your face." Ouch! More on Henry at a later date.

Remember the initial cost estimates that killed all our ducks in one shot? Well, those initial estimates that had taken our breath away were in some cases HALF of the actual bids! All the ducks went down (again) in the slamming door. We extended what I began to think of as our "used housing search" to farmland on the outskirts of town. We began to consider those major remodeling projects and tried to talk ourselves into a place where we could agree with the Lord that HE knew what was best for the Bergerons.

And then our parents came to visit. They both took one look at our land and a few drives with us to see properties we'd considered in town. They both said the same thing: "Do what you have to do but you should build on this land." We weren't sure what they meant. Were we really supposed to go out and rob a bank in order to build this house? We literally gave up. There wasn't anything for us in town. But neither was there a way to bridge the financial gap between the cost of the house and the reality of our bank account. We knew that God had plans to "give us a hope and a future." I think that we really really believed that but there was no picture forming on the horizon as to what that future might be. You know that place in your heart where you finally surrender and admit that God is very VERY big and that you are very VERY little and know just about that same amount despite all your books and so-called education? We were there.

And then it happened. Brian went to Medford with his dad to try one last-ditch effort with a steel truss design and there he "happened" to meet Travis Hoppes. Brian and Rod went with Travis to his two most recent houses. They were very nice. Brian talked with the owner of one of the houses: "Travis is the best builder I've ever seen. He's honest as the day is long. He is as up front as a builder gets. He didn't come near to charging me what he should have for this house." Brian was sold. When I hear "that sound" in his voice, I know, after 12 years of marriage, to just hop on board because he's going to run through "that door" like a freight train.

A few weeks later we had worked up a budget with Travis. Travis had added BACK the in-floor radiant heat that we'd taken out of the old plans. He wanted to build with Insulated Concrete Forms to get a house that is so energy-efficient it can supposedly be heated by a good argument (it gets Alaska-style COLD here)! I was getting the finishes that I'd not even thought possible on our budget. All for a price far less than what we could build ourselves! When God gives you an amazing gift, well, you just want to talk about it...

Excavation began two weeks ago. The initial estimate to move all of those shocking (but beautiful) boulders was over $20,000. As it stands, to date, the excavator found far fewer rocks than he'd counted on and so our bill has not yet accrued to the point we'd feared. We subsist on small mercies right now. The Lord put those boulders down at the foundation of the world, with a few upheavals, of course, and He knew that we couldn't afford to have too many on our property. I guess. Substance/Evidence surfaces when God gives us eyes to see it and so we continue to hope and walk forward. It's called faith and I'm ashamed to say that I'm just now learning to walk in it.

I look at the excavated footprint of this house and it is by far the biggest house I've ever lived in and probably the biggest house I'll ever live in. I wonder every time I see it. Faith tells me that there is a reason for this house, though I still fail to see the big boulders of evidence that I'm looking for. "Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief. This whole project has been your timing, your people, your plan. If I'd had things my way, the schedule, people, and plans--even the size--would have been totally different; but I'd have had no peace. But now that it's YOUR timing, people, and plans, I feel so safe--despite the myriad decisions and financial responsibilities."

This week the footers are being formed and are scheduled to be poured on Friday. We believe that God will do mighty things on our land and in our hearts as He builds our house. We want you to see them too. Check back and we'll continue to keep you posted.