I‘ve been speaking about a simple principle as I’ve witnessed it in South Africa over these past two years {the principle that without discipline nature will take over again} and I would now like to take a moment to speak about hope, and how all this can apply to our spiritual lives. {You can read part one here.}

For many of us, when we first answered the call to follow Jesus, we might remember a sharp about-face. That’s the way repentance should be: it is often described as if you are walking in one direction, and you make a one hundred and eighty degree turn, and start heading in the opposite direction.

The call to follow Jesus is often a call to swim upstream. It is a call to walk in ways that are contrary to our nature: loving our enemies, praying for our persecutors, learning that greatness is synonymous with service and that the last will be first. It is a call to choose love over fear, trust over worry.

We can start the race with these things in mind, eager to follow closely, to find the crosses we are called to bear and carry them with vigor and wholehearted enthusiasm. But over time, nature tends to take over, even in our own hearts.

Our natural tendencies will surface and resurface as we navigate the refining fires of a life of faith. Like gold being purified by fire, when things get hot, the undesirable elements begin to rise to the surface.

Zeal and ardent enthusiasm will only carry us so far. We will need discipline to overcome — to pass through those fiery furnaces and allow the Lord to remove the old nature in us as it rises to the surface.

But over time, we may become careless about matters that we were once committed to taking seriously as a part of our desire to follow the Lord. Perhaps it’s the words we are willing to allow out of our mouths, or the commitment to spending time in prayer, or studying God’s word and applying it to our lives.

Without discipline, nature takes over again.

Thankfully, no situation is without hope. With forethought and commitment, things which were allowed to go wild can be subdued and domesticated. Just as old roads can be rebuilt and repaired, so the tongue can be tamed and re-tamed. The wildfire of political corruption can be put out, just as the corruption in our own hearts can be made to acquiesce under the Lordship of Jesus.

None of this will be possible without a patient kind of discipline. In the case of a country, it is a united and sustained effort towards a common goal. In the case of our own souls, what is needed remains much the same.

There is great depth to the truth that the Crucifixion that brought us forgiveness was a lengthy and sustained affair. Jesus patiently submitted to the abuse and punishment of a mocking trial, a scourging, and hours of torture on a cross. He wasn’t shot or stabbed and he didn’t face the electric chair or a lethal injection. Our forgiveness wasn’t won with a sprint. It was paid for with a marathon — and endurance.

Could this be why Hebrews admonishes us:

Therefore, we also, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which so easily ensnares us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith, who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. (Heb. 12: 1 & 2}

It goes on to say, “For consider Him who endured such hostility from sinners against Himself, lest you become weary and discouraged in your souls.” {v. 3}

Indeed, the chastening of discipline has the promise to produce good fruit: “Now no chastening seems to be joyful for the present, but painful; nevertheless afterwards it yields the peaceable fruit of righteousness to those who have been trained by it.” {v. 11}

When the Hubs was training in the pool, in his days as a Swimming Champion and Olympic hopeful, he constantly meditated on the motto that pain was good. “No pain, no gain…” kept him pushing through another lap, strengthening his arms and legs to slice through the waters faster and faster.

But the race isn’t always to the swift. The seed that falls on good ground doesn’t spring up as quickly as the seed that falls in rocky places. We are called to a race akin to the marathons held in Greece in the first century that Paul alluded to when he spoke of running toward the prize.

Though our salvation is absolutely a gift of grace, yet the call to follow is simultaneously a call to become a disciple, to take up a cross. We can trust His yoke is easy and His burden is light. Still, there is a weight we are called to carry.

In Romans 12:2, Paul urges us not to be conformed to the image of this world {a world where we’re encouraged to “do what feels good” or to “follow your instincts”} but to be transformed by the renewing of our minds. He ends those words with this promise: “Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is–his good, pleasing and perfect will.”

Nature has a way of taking over again. But in God’s glorious goodness, for a beloved country or a beloved soul, there is always, always hope for transformation.

xCC

I am an American, born to American parents who were born to American parents who were born to American parents. I don’t know that I have any African heritage in my history, though I feel adopted by that beautiful continent by virtue of my time there and my deep love for one of Africa’s sons. I ask for grace to speak about South Africa, and hope to do so with humility, because even after living here for two years, I remain an outsider, looking in. {Foreword side note: I wrote this post a few weeks before we left South Africa last year.}

I‘ve observed more of the complicated nature of the country of South Africa in my last couple of months here than perhaps in the past couple of years of living here. This could be because I have just lately been watching the news, or because we are travelling around South Africa and it is giving me the opportunity to see.

I have noticed a pattern throughout my travels in this beautiful country, and it is one that gives me concern for the country’s future. In different ways, wherever I look, I see evidence that nature is taking over again.

In Bloemfontein, the sidewalks and curbs are crumbling, and the streets are littered with potholes. In Johannesburg, buildings once great and sturdy sites for businesses, have fallen into complete ruin, not even safe for the homeless to live in. We travel the roads with concern, as some have fallen into such disrepair they are almost impassable. In many corners of the country, it seems infrastructure is lacking to fight the bush fires that break out, which means they ravage acres upon acres of land.

There are small and simple examples, too: The children’s play area where we were staying in the Drakensberg was falling apart and clearly not being maintained. Trash was being left outside and the baboons were having a rarely hindered field day.

It is evidence of a simple principle that applies to all of life: without discipline, nature takes over again.

My husband speaks of the South Africa he grew up in, and I see both joy and sorrow in his eyes. It is a place that once was and is not likely to ever be again. On our way up to the Kruger, we pass a picnic area. He tells stories of precious family holiday memories — he and his brother and sister would pile into the backseat of the family car early in the morning, and the family would travel for a while and then stop to enjoy the breakfast they’d packed at one of those picnic areas on the roadside.

A lot of things were wrong then, but some things were right.

Today those picnic areas are no longer maintained, and even where they are, it is not always safe to stop. The one we passed that sparked the story was overgrown with weeds, the table cracked, the cement benches crumbling. “No one will come to repair it,” he remarked with sadness. “And it will just fall into ruin.”

If I had to describe the situation in South Africa at present, I could only use one word: complicated. We had a very positive life experience when we lived in the Western Cape. It is the only province of the country ruled by a political party other than the ANC. When we are there, I feel hopeful about SA’s future.

But in Mpumulanga near Kruger National Park, in the Gauteng and Johannesburg, or in the Drakensberg in the province of KwaZulu Natal, there are so many signs of decay and disrepair, it is more difficult to maintain a sense of hope.

“My family used to take a drive through that valley, up that way,” my husband explains while we’re in the Drakensberg, “but I asked someone at reception, and the roads have eroded so badly, they’ve closed them.”

The truth is, the maintenance of a country takes discipline. To keep the roads in good form requires planning ahead, and hiring individuals who are qualified to build roads. But the political agenda of empowerment has meant that people without the skills and knowledge to successfully build or repair a road are being hired to do so. Thus, the roads that are being rebuilt are crumbling quickly — they have not been built properly, and trucks with oversized loads are travelling them because no one is taking the initiative to firmly regulate the trucking industry.

I understand the desire to attempt to even the playing field, and to give a previously oppressed people group a hand-up, but at what cost? The crumbling of a country? The oppression of another people group?

I remember Mandela’s very important words, spoken after Apartheid had ended and he was elected: “Never, never, and never again shall a people group be oppressed in this nation by another.”

I’m afraid I see evidence to the contrary.

To combat the forces of nature which seek to hinder the prosperity of a nation takes discipline. The discipline to successfully uphold the law in all cases. The discipline to budget and plan ahead for the maintenance of a country’s road and railway systems. The discipline to carefully protect the natural resources which are the country’s greatest wealth, be it wildlife or diamonds or coal (through regulation rather than nationalisation, I would humbly digress to note.)

It takes discipline to keep peace, rather than to pit one people group against another for the furtherance of a political agenda.

Without discipline, nature will succeed in taking back what was once hers. Roads will naturally crumble over time. People will naturally begin to blame one another for their troubles, and violence will be the result. Without discipline, laws will become suggestions or rules that only apply to some of the people some of the time.

Without discipline, nature takes over again.

Do you see evidence of nature taking over again in your own life? I’m planning to share more on this subject tomorrow.

xCC

{You can read part two of this post right here.}

It may have occurred to you by now that at some point, it has to happen. I’m still writing With Love, but I’m not writing With Love from Africa anymore. The process of re-entering life here in North Carolina after six years abroad, and two of them in Africa, has been many things, including a grieving process.

I’m grieving the beauty I left behind.

Grieving the poverty I left behind.

I look at where I am now, look at where I’ve been and wonder — did it make a difference? Couldn’t I have been more… done more?

What did it mean?

I read stories like this one — about Katie Davis, a girl who took off for Uganda instead of university in 2007 at age 19, and has since adopted 13 daughters, started a child sponsorship program and a feeding program, and is hoping to open a school this year.

My heart gets turned inside out.

Am I back in the West, and have I forgotten where I was?

I have too many clothes.

I want my very worst addiction to come to an end: my addiction to me.

The part of my re-entry that is currently shocking? How dang easy it’s been to get comfortable. Quick.

***

I think it would be a fair assessment to say that Steve Jobs changed the world during his time in it. He created a market where one previously didn’t exist. He took personal computers in a beautiful new direction. I’m not just saying that because we’re a Mac family — Apple recently surpassed Microsoft and is basically the largest company in the world now.

One of my favorite things Jobs said during his time on this earth was in a commencement speech in 2005, to the graduating class at Stanford University.

I pondered the simple words for a while, and I think I have come to better understand their meaning. Jobs said:

Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish.

When I was younger in the Lord, I was hungry for more of Him. Hungry to see Him move. Hungry to see change in the world around me — hungry to be a part of the change that our Father had in mind for His children and the world He created. Hungry to be the hands and feet of Jesus — going to the broken, touching a world in need.

I was foolish enough to believe I could make a difference.

Perhaps Jobs was hungry for a different kind of change. He was hungry to innovate, hungry to create and develop. He was passionate about beauty.

This hunger of mine, though, it’s a hunger and a thirst for righteousness, a hunger to do the will of God, knowing that if we came together and did His will this world would be a radically different place.

I don’t want to get comfortable and lazy — I want to stay hungry for a life that exhibits … exudes God.

And that foolishness — maybe that’s not getting too wise in one’s own eyes, being hungry to learn, to listen.

Was Jobs foolish enough to believe he could change the world, I wonder? Because he did.

Maybe like Bono, I’m foolish enough to believe that Where You Live Should Not Decide whether you live or whether you die. Foolish enough to think ours literally could be the generation that ends extreme poverty.

All the world is hurting, truly — for a while, Africa was where my hands labored to do some healing.

It might be nice to have some new colors here, some new pictures, a change of pace, a change of name.

{I write these things to let you know it’s coming, so that you won’t arrive and think you’ve lost your way.}

But I want, at the core, for all of me, including this, to be about one thing — staying hungry to hear the voice of God and to write what I believe He says, to write like I mean it. And with that, staying foolish enough to believe that changing the world is possible. With my pen, my hands or even a pair of shoes.

The best news? The adventure is really just beginning.

But God has chosen the foolish things of the world to put to shame the wise, and God has chosen the weak things of the world to put to shame the things which are mighty; and the base things of the world and the things which are despised God has chosen, and the things which are not, to bring to nothing the things that are, that no flesh should glory in His presence. But of Him you are in Christ Jesus, who became for us wisdom from God—and righteousness and sanctification and redemption—that, as it is written, “He who glories, let him glory in the LORD.” {I Cor. 1:27 – 31}

As always, with love,
xCC

When we got back to the States and I saw the cost of a nice loaf of bread, I was more than a little bummed. My awesome health insurance plan in South Africa gave us discounts on healthy food purchases {brilliant idea, American insurers, take this one up!} so we got really nice, healthy bread at a very fair price.

The Hubs bought some cheap bread at the Piggly Wiggly not long after we settled in, not knowing what he was signing up for. When he tried to spread some peanut butter over a slice and the bread tore, we knew we had a problem.

Cheap bread is full of yucky stuff, and cheap in the bad sense. Healthy bread is pricey. Where’s the third option, pray tell?

Shortly after this perpuzzlement, I heard a rave review (by the Nester) about a book called Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day and I asked my Mom for the book for Christmas. I also got a pizza stone from my Dad for Christmas, and a wood cutting board that has been helpful in the process. But neither of those are an absolutely necessity starting out.

I was hesitant to think it could possibly work out well, and pleasantly surprised when it did.

And when my awesome piano playing, great-cooking, tidy housing, homeschooling awesome awesome photo-taking (yes, I needed to say it twice) friend Hope asked about it, I suddenly realized I needed to share.

And then I got really excited and created a picture with text and if you pin it on pinterest I might wet my pants.

Twice.

Anywho, about the book.

The premise is that you can mix together a nice heap of dough (the kind made from flour, not the cash) with the book’s very good instructions, and that probably takes ten or fifteen minutes, tops. And you can keep said dough in your refrigerator for up to two weeks. When you’re ready to bake a loaf, you grab a chunk of the dough, shape it based on what you’re making, let it rest according to the recipe’s instructions (usually about 20-40 minutes while the oven and your pizza stone are preheating) and then you bake 30ish minutes, depending on the recipe. {That whole process probably takes five minutes of active effort. For me, maybe seven.}

And boo-yow. Yum.

So far I’ve just tried a few variations of the most basic recipe (I wanted to use white wheat flour once and I accidentally bought the wrong type of flour the first time because there was this gentleman at Walmart who used to be a chef and loves to bake and we had a really long conversation about the book, different types of flour, and the fact that I couldn’t find an oven thermometer. He came and found me again later and had an oven thermometer to drop in my cart.

{Thank you, dear Sir.}

I have really, really enjoyed this learning experience, and the fruit of it, so far.

My honest review?

THE PROS:

• The bread is really good. As in, it tastes really good. And I’m still just rocking the basic basic recipe. Pass the oil and balsamic, please.
• It has just four basic ingredients: flour, yeast, kosher salt (usually) and warm water. (Which seems healthier, methinks, than all those funky ones I can’t pronounce.)
• It is really an un-time-consuming process that could work for a Mom who gets home at 5 or a Mom who’s home all day. Or a Dad. Or grandma.
• My Dad and I worked out some rough figures on the math and using a nice unbleached white flour I was probably averaging 40 cents per loaf. Mixing in some unbleached white wheat, I probably knock another 15 cents off. And up the health factor. Ka-chow!
• One single batch of dough will make four loaves, which will stick around for about a week around here because I don’t make it every day. (You can easily double the recipe if you want more, and I think that’ll maybe add a minute or two to your mixing time.)
• The book has a ton of recipes in it and I’ve just scratched the surface, trying to get the hang of things before I start getting fancy. {Watch out instagram!}
• It works as bread for sandwiches — the bâtard {appreciate that I looked up that special character just for you} is nice, though a bit holey sometimes. I haven’t tried doing it in a loaf pan yet, but apparently you can do that to. I’m just scared because I’m not sure if the loaf pan I inherited is a proper nonstick.
• All the boys love this bread. The Hubs, the Bear, Tiger Tank…six thumbs up.

THE CONS:

• The loaves are smaller than I expected. They are, however, a good-sized accompaniment to a meal. A loaf will probably get finished if four adults are at the table. {You might want to just make two loaves and throw them in the oven together if you have a big family.}
• Because the loaves are small, they go quickly. Baking a loaf of bread has become a part of my morning routine so that we have it for lunch. That may or may not work for you. {It doesn’t last for lunch the next day because we almost ALWAYS eat the rest of the loaf with dinner.} I’m still planning to get a bread maker to do sandwich loaves, but I will also keep doing this type of bread — sometimes for lunches, often as the perfect accompaniment to spaghetti and salad or curry and rice or … I haven’t found a meal it doesn’t play nicely with yet. Pass the oil and balsamic please.
• It’s a learning process. Your first few loaves might be wonky. One of mine had a booty like J Lo.
• It’s an investment, though not a ginormous one. The book, $13 used, a pizza stone if you really want to give it a proper go, though you can try it with a baking sheet for the first wee while if you want. They recommend a food grade storage container for keeping the dough in the fridge, but I’ve been using a really big pot with a lid, since it’s not supposed to be airtight anyway. I hope that’s allowed.
• I feel like I should have more cons but I’m struggling to think of anything else.

MY RESULTS:

So far, really good.

Here’s an early loaf awaiting its destiny:

This may have been the one that had a booty. It tasted good anyway.

My prettiest loaf so far accidentally flipped over when I was sliding it onto the pizza stone. I tried to flip it back, but it was stuck, so I just wet and slashed the other side. I prayed a little. It came out gorgeous.

Here’s a more recent one:

Do you sense the improvement? Are you impressed?

And here’s today’s loaf, a bâtard, which started all these shenanigans. {I posted it on instagram, which Facebooked it.}

It would feel cheeky and morally wrong {not to mention probably disrespect the laws of copyright} to give you the recipe that these writers/bakers worked countless hours perfecting — and I also think you need all of the surrounding instructions from the book to give it a proper go. And they are thorough, though not too lengthy. I hope that doesn’t bum you out.

The Good News? You can get the book used on Amazon for like $12.58. And for that price, even if you only bake a dozen loaves, you’ll have paid for the book. I love you and I like sharing recipes here, but I don’t want to go to jail.

Think you might give it a whirl? Got any questions? Please fire away in the comments!

xCC

The folks who wrote this book don’t know me. But I am an Amazon affiliate. {In case you don’t know, that means that if you click that link up there and then decide to buy the book, I get a tiny percentage of the sale. I might also wet my pants.} But I’m telling the truth and not aiming for the cut. Scout’s honour.

Our growth and our progress in following the Lord is a much more cyclical process than I ever first perceived it to be. Like the way plants spring up from the ground in the spring, smile and stretch toward the sky in the summer, turn their faces down to the ground in the fall, and become nothing in the winter — only to begin the cycle again. The walk of faith can feel like that…

“I am filled to be emptied again. The seed I’ve received, I will sow.”

Isaiah described it this way:

As the rain and the snow
come down from heaven,
and do not return to it
without watering the earth
and making it bud and flourish,
so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater,
so is my word that goes out from my mouth:
It will not return to me empty,
but will accomplish what I desire
and achieve the purpose for which I sent it. (Is. 55:10&11)

Like the good old process by which rain comes down and evaporates right back up–the linear side of faith, the race toward the prize, is complemented by the cyclical, almost circular side, as if the race is around a track.

I often marvel at how a lesson I thought I’d learned some time ago comes back, and how I need to learn it again. Though I first I feel frustration at my forgetful heart, yet I think this is instead the way we were created, with these cyclical seasons in mind. It was promised from the beginning, just after the flood, that seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night shall not cease. (Gen. 8:22)

I found myself just yesterday, hiding again, without realizing it. I’ve been disappointed, but afraid to admit it. I had some hopes that didn’t come to fruition. I had some expectations that weren’t met.

Disappointment became discouragement.

I didn’t want to admit all this to the Lord, and so I hid.

Rather than say I don’t like what You’ve given, I’d prefer to say nothing at all.

I sat in the garden and sewed fig leaves, carefully weaved out of “We’re doing fines” and “We’re really thankfuls” and “Look how much we have to be thankful fors.” And though all of those are true, they aren’t honest. They aren’t real.

I didn’t even realize I was sewing. I didn’t even know I was hiding. I simply thought I was pressing on with life. I just thought things would get easier and all would be well.

Praise God for the brothers and sisters He gives us — that first Not Good in the garden {before sin!} was the It is not good for man to be alone. Indeed.

A friend, a sister in the faith, spoke life to me, pointing to the thing I wasn’t willing to admit, perhaps without even realizing she was doing so. I saw my leaves, and saw that I needed His healing, His help letting go.

Letting go is often a necessary part of moving on — but it’s a part I wanted to skip.

And letting go sometimes requires being honest and admitting you have something you need to let go of. Or something of which you need to let go if I’m attending to my grammar.

Why do I forget that I can be honest with God?

Why do I try to hide anything from the One who knows everything? Why am I ashamed and embarrassed of emotions that are the natural result of the way I’ve been created? He already knows I’m a sinner. He sent His Son to cover that.

The breastplate of righteousness I can wear, the one paid for by Jesus — it is the only true covering, but it is so true. And it covers, and it means He looks at me and sees His Son.

Why do I try to dig in my own little drawer of fabric scraps and piece together my own covering?

I am making an outfit out of filthy rags, when the most beautiful, white, flowing robe I could ever wear is hanging in the closet.

Don’t forget that you can be honest with God. If you’re angry, hurt, scared, confused, disappointed and discouraged — He is big enough to handle it.

Psalm 46:10 spoke this to me for the first time, just two days ago, in a way I never understood it before:

“Be still and know that I am God. I will be exalted among the nations. I will be exalted in all the Earth.”

If you get really still — still enough to even try to take that ginormous thought in — you suddenly see how small all of this is. Your hurt and your emotions. Your failures and your fig leaves. That doesn’t belittle your importance — God sent His only Son for you. It gives you perspective — He is on the throne. It is well with my soul. This is all going to end in Glory.

I will not surprise Him, disturb Him, or even belittle His greatness by bringing Him everything — the crowns and the crossed arms, the Hallelujahs and the WhyWhyWhyWhyOhWhyOhWhyOhWhys.

I said I was hurt. Disappointed and discouraged. I said I was sorry I hid. I sensed Him hearing all of it — as if He’d been right there waiting for me to see all along. I told the Lord I loved Him with tears in my eyes — and it was perhaps for the first time in a while that 100% of me meant it.

xCC

The Hubs checked out the ten months post last night and pointed out that I’d forgotten his favorite photo. Which was also my favorite.

And it turns out I sure did.

Because it was in the drop box and I forgot to download it.

Because I was distracted by Speedy Gon-crawl-les racing out of the room to find some mischief.

Or maybe it was his brother’s fault.

But here’s to saving the best for the last of the last. Even though this is the third to last opportunity to take these monthlies before he’s one!

Oh no!

So here it is, belatedly.

Be still my heart.

No Thomas the Tank Engines were harmed in the taking of this photo.

Though one may have been drooled on.

More than a little.

xCC

So. Today is officially the eleven month birthday. And I’m posting the ten months photos. Meaning we are a little behind. Though perhaps a big behind at the same time. Well, better late than never I always say.

You say that a lot too?

What a coincidence.

It sure feels like it was ten weeks — not ten months ago — when we made that infamous ride to glory, and Mr. Potato Head surpassed 100 mph, heading to a hospital in Somerset West.

But here he is, practically growing a mustache and sending applications in to work at Starbucks.

And wasn’t this last week?

But this might be my favourite month of photos. Ever.

Turns out the Tank has an aptitude for fishing.

His crawling skills went from mediocre to warp speed in about ten minutes.

Which means I “have my hands full” when trying to clean or cook or get stuff done

because this sweet little darling doesn’t like being still.

Funny expression, that, having your hands full.

I now know exactly how far away from the potty I have to sit the Tank

{whom we also refer to as “the Tiger” because of his tenacious attitude toward doing something he wants to do}

{[after being told no repeatedly]}

{[(he may or may not take after his Mama)]}

{[({I'll let you decide})]}

…I have to make sure he’s far enough away from the potty that I can get my trousers down and get from standing to sitting before he gets there.

And heaven forbid I should be in the middle of shaping a loaf of bread or have my hands deep in a mess.

Because if I should happen to lose sight of this Tank the Tiger who can also be called Tenacious B,

I most certainly know right where to go looking for him.

If anyone has forgotten to put the lid down,

He’s likely to be found splashing in the loo.

{[({Gasp!})]}

So if you drop by the Collie house any time soon,

please put down the lid.

Ten wonderful months! Isn’t the Lord good to us?

xCC

A few weeks ago I mentioned that I’d been working on finger knitting, and it was a fun little crafty project that was super cheap and made me feel like I’d accomplished something. I’d seen a scarf at Kohl’s for like $20 but didn’t want to pay $20 for a scarf even though I really liked it. So when I got the idea to do something different (via an instragram by the Nester and a tutorial by Gussy Sews) I was excited to go in a different direction.

Now, if you’re anything like me, you love bacon, dislike cleaning, and sometimes tend to make things more complicated than they already are.

I’m not the only one? Good.

So I read through this Gussy tutorial which said this would probably take me about ten minutes to figure out. I followed the instructions and studied the pictures, but still something didn’t seem quite right.

I managed to stay calm and never said anything like I’ve got half a PhD, surely I can finger knit a dang scarf! Look at all these kids doing it on youtube! What the heck is my problem?

You can decide whether or not you believe me.

But eventually I realized seeing it in action would probably help a lot more. I’m better at watching than listening, I admit it.

So I found this other tutorial on youtube, which varied slightly in instruction. You start out at your pinky with Gussy, at your pointer with this other gal, (I might have that backwards) but everything else is basically the same.

Being the persnickety gal that I am, I also discovered that if I didn’t push the string all the way down my fingers each time — if I only pushed it down about halfway — the weave would look tighter and a little less sloppy. And that made me happy.

This is the youtube video:

And here’s the final product:

I love gray these days.

I made a couple of necklaces like Gussy’s to figure it out, and then I knitted and knitted and knitted to make a super long scarf and then tied the beginning to the end. I wanted to be able to loop it over my head seven or eight times to stack it up, because I wanted it to be poofy. And maybe diminish my double chin, by association.

Since I was writing this out for you I thought I should maybe measure it to see how long it is, just so I could tell you. And then I laughed. The reason I can wrap this thing around seven or eight times is because it’s 23 feet long.

Yes, 23 feet. 7ish metres for my peeps who’re rocking the metric system.

But I did it in a few hours — maybe four hours, one evening. While watching Elf.

Please let me know if you decide to try it. Total cost for the project? An evening of my time, ten minutes of the Hubs’ time before he said he wouldn’t help me figure it out, and about $1′s worth of yarn from Walmart. I bought the locally made in Washington, North Kakalaki yarn even though it was a dollar more. Worth it.

In closing, do you like my scarf, do you think I’m a nerd and want to send me $20 to get the one at Kohls?

xCC

That was a really long title. But I just couldn’t leave any of it out. For the past week or ten, I’ve been talking about a few different things. I’ve been talking about faith, thankfulness, and how lots of Australians seem to visit this site but don’t comment.

I’ve also spoken about parenting. And if you’re the observant kind, you’ve probably noticed that I feel like I’m struggling in it. It’s everybody’s story, perhaps, but right now it’s mine.

The older one is cheeky and I lack the energy to reel him in.

The younger one is teething and, well, not sleeping in a manner conducive to me getting reasonable amounts of sleep many nights.

{This morning’s pajama dance party with DJ Jazzy Tank.}

And somehow in the back of my mind, thoughts from posts like this one or this one, are whispering in my ear: You’re not savoring enough! You’re not enjoying enough! You’re not smiling and laughing and taking snapshots with your mind enough!

Exactly as this brilliant woman described it in an article in the Huffington Post, the well-meaning voices of ladies who were once in this stage are echoing these exclamations: It goes by so fast! Enjoy every minute! Are you loving every. single. minute. of mothering? You should! Cuz it’ll be gone before you know it!

But at the end of many-a-day, just like Melton described it in her article, I am often just glad my boys are asleep with all of their fingers and toes still attached to their bodies.

The truth is, the goal of enjoying every. single. moment. of parenting can leave you feeling like you’ve fallen off a wagon you never knew how to ride.

And why, oh why, even after realizing it before, does it suddenly occur to me: I feel like I’m failing because I’m using the wrong measuring stick.

Enjoy. Every. Last. Stinking. Minute. is not a reasonable expectation. Not for marriage. Not for motherhood. Not for just about anything except a roller coaster ride or a brief video on youtube.

It’s only natural that the peaks and troughs will come — the lower the troughs, the higher the peaks feel.

I’ve been doing a bit of informal research as to how Christians feel about dating. Specifically, I’ve been asking why does Christian dating often feel so awkward? (Feel free to comment with your opinions — anonymously, if necessary!)

One of the common threads I’ve seen has everything to do with expectations. Expectations on the part of brothers and sisters in the Church that feel entitled to know every. last. stinking. detail. about a couple’s relationship as it unfolds. Expectations on the part of the girl or the guy that the one the Lord has for me will be like this and like this and like this but not like this or this or that or that or that.

There are often mutually unrealized expectations about how a relationship should unfold, and that sure does seem to make things messy.

It is a necessary part of life, our beautiful ability to think about what we’re thinking about. And it probably wouldn’t hurt to think about it a little more. I think.

Sewiously, there is great value in taking the time to ask if you’re feeling guilty about something you’ve done or left undone, when the only person you’d ever expect to achieve that goal is you. Are you expecting yourself to be an everything home-cooked, always under budget, kids always tidy, smiling through every circumstance, always on time, don’t worry I’ve got it together Mamacita?

Is that a Reasonable, Realistic goal? For this season of your life? In these circumstances?

If you are the kind of person who wants to beat yourself up for sinning and falling short, even though you know it’s forgiven and long-gone and the Lord has removed it as far as the East is from the West, you are probably the kind of person that has high expectations for yourself. And that’s not always a good thing.

Leave some room for Grace!

In addition to a little introspection, it ain’t a bad idea to put your hand on your chin like the Thinker and consider the expectations you’ve set for who other people are, who they should be, and what they should be doing.

Do you mayhaps have unrealistic expectations for your spouse? Your best friend? Your second cousin’s third grade teacher? Your pastor?

Are you hanging up an unfair measuring stick for you, or somebody else?

A friend of mine read the article I linked to above and said she felt like God had lifted a weight off her shoulders when she read it. Why? Because she’s probably like me. I’m freaked out by the fact that the childhood of our children goes by very quickly, and I’m often worried that I’m going to have regrets at the end of it because I didn’t hold on to enough. Somehow.

I needed someone to say: It is okay not to enjoy every minute of it. Yes, some of it is just plain hard. Just savor the good stuff. Enjoy what you can when you can. And everything’s gonna be alright… everything gonna be alright hey… no woman no cry… hey no woman… no..

Sorry I’m back.

Give your expectations a little thought when you get a second. It might take a load off your back, or somebody else’s — I {hesistantly} expect it’ll be a healthy exercise for you, too.

xCC

I‘ve been meaning to tell you about a couple of things. But I get distracted and forget a lot. Only having the opportunity to finish your sentence about half the time is one of the things I’ve noticed motherhood…

Sorry, what was I talking about?

Anyway, we got some good news. Remember these?

The Eighteen Boxes more accurately described as fifteen boxes, two bikes and a guitar that were packed up from our place in Gordon’s Bay on the 28th of June in the year of our Lord two thousand and eleven?

Yeah, those.

They might actually be on their way here.

What? you ask. You don’t have your stuff yet?

No, I reply. We don’t. Thanks for asking. When you ship your things from one continent to another in a shared container, the shippers have to wait for the container to fill up before it’ll be loaded on a ship and hit the water.

But our stuff may have finally hit the water. Hopefully just in the figurative sense. We have a tracking number and can follow the vessel across the ocean and everything.

Nifty, huh?

I am struggling to remember what’s in those boxes, except I’ve especially been missing the Bible Thomas Nelson Publishers sent me when my old one’s Genesis made an Exodus.

And the boys clothes that may or may not fit by the time they get here. And I don’t have any dress pants right now. Because I shipped them all because I hadn’t lost enough weight to fit in them yet last June.

So our things could arrive in February. And golly, gee whillikers, that would be swell.

In more recent occurrences, I wrote a few new articles at Signposts. I usually try to mention that here in case you’re interested in clicking over. Do you click over? I haven’t learned how to follow links and figure that out yet so I’d love to know.

This one talks about whether disability is always a burden, and mentions some great thoughts by Amy Julia Becker who wrote this book right here which I think will be really good. If I get my hands on it.

This one talks about things that are close to the heart of God. Which by necessity means they should be close to ours, too, right?

And this one contains a story about a Theology & Disability Conference I went to in Holland (I shared the Amsterdam photos on this Travelling Tuesday) and a special young lady I met there. And other stuff from the Bible which is worth pondering, mayhaps.

I was also thinking of mentioning that part of the reason you haven’t seen a lot of these lately…

(these being

lekker photos

by the Hubs… and all of these being taken just before we left SA…)

{and maybe after mentioning it in the survey you’re feeling like this about that,}

well, it’s because HH’s lappytop (as they are called in the Collie household) is not doing so well, and it basically takes him a full hour to edit about 8 photos. Yup, sixty minutes. Eight photos. Eight. And, as he would put it, that “does his head in.”

So we’re prayerfully contemplating purchasing a new Mac.

And if’n and when’n we do, you are likely to see the lekker Hero Hubs photo quotient increase exponentially.

I apologize the Tank will be close to eleven months before you see the ten month photos. But you understand, right?

One last anecdote will make this random compilation complete, methinks.

We let the Bear have a cupcake a couple days ago, and he was talking about it being in his tummy afterwards. I’d asked if he wanted to share some with his brother and he explained that he couldn’t because it was already in his tummy.

Today, it is in my tummy, he said.

We laughed and said, and tomorrow, it will be poopy! (Poopy had previously been a part of the conversation. Promise.)

He looked puzzled for a while and then got a very sad and unpleasant look on his face and with great emotion replied,

But I don’t wan’ a poopy cupcake.

Ba-da-bop, ka-CHOW. Thank you, thank you, I’m here all week.

Hope your brain isn’t feeling as fried as mine this Thursday afternoon.

xCC

P.S. I think this might be the most links I’ve ever put in one post. I just thought you should know. And here’s one more just for fun. If you follow that link and don’t smile, you are officially a robot. Or from Mars. Or both. I’ve loved it since college. The first time around.