A SHY VALENTINES DAY

The very first valentine I received from a boyfriend was from Mr. Pat himself. We had been dating only 86 days and we both felt a bit awkward and shy about giving valentines. My card to him said, "I've sent/ This friendly Valentine/In hopes that it will show/ How really grand (I underlined grand)/ I think you are/ How nice (I also underlined nice) you are to know."

In red ink I wrote, "Happy Valentines Day!" and simply signed it "Nedra"

HIS valentine to me said, "A Valentine wish straight from the heart...(turn page) 'Cause that's where all (here the card company underlined all) good wishes start! Happiness Always" (Always is underlined by the CARD COMPANY). It is signed, "Pat"

It was only signed, "Pat" but those three letters produced a series of bubbly, fizzy, happy feelings that bounced and swirled inside of me, and I couldn't explain them, but the realization that "he" was interested in me was truly awesome!!!!

My family always underlines appropriate words in greeting cards. Pat doesn't. When I first knew him I wanted him to underline, too, because underlining was a way our family communicated our feelings. It was somehow easier than saying the words. Pat says the words. And his words are so much more meaningful than any store-bought underlining (which has become kind of a joke between us now even though I still like to do it!)

Pat, you are my valentine and you are mine (underline, underline, underline!!)

HERE'S THE JELLY, WHERE'S THE...

peanut butter?? There's nothing like making jelly to give me the feeling that I'm a true old-fashioned homemaker, (but those inspirations come less frequently as the years go by). It's just so much easier to pick up a jar of jelly off the shelf, and so what if it doesn't taste as good? But yesterday at the BIG supermarket (a k a Walmart) I was overwhelmed by the boxes and boxes of luscious Niagara grapes staring me in the face and I suddenly felt twinges of "old-fashioned homemaker" and voilà! it produced five jars of jelly--just like that! (Now I must get my hubby to make the peanut butter--he's a good old-fashioned peanut butter maker!)

HOW MANY DAYS?

I was surprised yesterday when I opened a package from my Mom to find (among other things) a picture of myself at three months. It was taken almost exactly 60 years ago!! Ever try to identify with yourself at three months of age? It' s impossible! It was more like looking at a stranger's face. Yet as I looked, that baby represented to me a book of mostly empty pages--MY PAGES. Then I looked at myself with 60 years-full of pages filled in and it was scary!! I couldn't help but wonder if what I am today is what God had in mind for me when I was starting out in life. I do believe each of us has a calling of God on our lives, like the framework of a house. God determines the foundations, the structural beams--our giftings and abilities--but the filling-in of that frame he leaves up to us. I'm an open-ended person (the downside being I tend to leave things unresolved) so I like the idea of freedom of choice, of options, of having more than one "right way" to do things. I don't believe I am a marionette with God pulling the strings. I used to believe that God's perfect will was a terribly narrow line that was difficult to find and difficult to stay on. Today I believe it is more like broad band internet. There is space to move about within God's perfect will. I know I can't change the choices I've made, that's past, but I can decide how I will live today. I pray earnestly and humbly with the psalmist, "So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom." Psalm 90:12

THE DAY-AFTER PILL DURING CARNAVAL

The Catholic Church in northeastern Brazil did try to stop the free distribution of kits containing the "day-after pill" for Carnaval-goers, but to no avail. The judge overruled, stating the pills were to be distributed only to women who were raped or in the case of a faulty condom, and only after a doctor's consultation. Only 31 pills were distributed.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MICHELLE!

FAINT NOT!

"Have you not known? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He does not faint or grow weary, his understanding is unsearchable.

He gives power to the faint, and to him who has no might he increases strength.

Even youths shall faint and be weary, and young men shall fall exhausted; but they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint." Isaiah 40:28-31

GREAT IS THY FAITHFULNESS

( For some reason this photo came out upside down!)

My mind is like a suitcase packed full of memories of 34 years in Brazil. February 7th, 1974 is still fresh in my mind, especially those first years when everything was strange and different and we lived on a roller coaster of emotions and experiences. Here are a few memories:






*bare cement floors

*students singing while they worked

*the dark blue walls of my bedroom that I came to hate

*two fat, long cockroaches wiggling their antennae, clinging to the door of my wardrobe when I opened it to have a look--then slammed it shut very quickly!

*eating rice and beans almost every day

*smilely, friendly brown faces

*people in church shaking my hand and saying, "The peace of the Lord"

*seeing urine trickle down the slanted floor in the church during the service

*our low bed with little bedstands attached to the headboard

*trying corn meal mush

*the thrill of getting a letter from family

*lying in bed for two long months looking at those dark blue walls while recuperating from hepatitus

*beautiful children

That was just a peek in my memory suitcase...I am thankful to a loving heavenly Father who has been and continues to be faithful to us. To God be the glory!

EENSY, WEENSY SPIDER

went up the waterspout, so says the nursery rhyme, but what I saw in my bathroom was NOT eensy nor weensy! I was merrily sudsing myself in the shower when I happened to look up, which I don't normally do while showering, and shuddered at the size of the enormous spider that was getting restless by the steamy water that clouded his vision! Yikes! I hurried to finish, then ran for my camera. After the picture taking session, in which he cooperated nicely, I sprayed him with a letal poison, then waited for him to die--which he didn't immediately do. He fell to the floor, so I zapped him with more poison, then left the room. When I came back, he had advanced to the porcelain toilet bowl. That was too, too much, so I smacked him with my sandal and that was the end of that! Now, before you get hysterical and decide to never come visit me, let me just say this: I have found many, many big spiders in my house through the years, I have met up with many cockroaches in my life, I even lived for a short time where there were scorpions, but I have never, ever been bit or stung by any of these things. Just for the record. Just so you know. God takes care of us.

DID YOU KNOW...

that the word "crisscross" literally means "Christ's cross"? It is the cross at the head of an alphabet, for the symbol "X" , abbreviation of Christ. So says the New World Dictionary of American English.

SEXY SIXTY

I was in the shoe store rummaging through dress shoes on a discount table when I spied the perfect pair: pearly off-white that cast rainbow reflections if held in the right light, delicate straps and a three-inch heel. Would they have my size? I was feeling giddy, thinking how well the shoes would look with my new dress—the whole reason for this shopping trip.
I bent over to slip the heels on, Cinderella-like, then straightened to a standing position to admire my “delicate” foot in the mirror. I was unprepared for what I saw. You see, I don’t often look that far down my body or very closely either, and was shocked at what met my eye: a web of bluish-purplish skin crisscrossing varicose (very-close) veins starting at my ankles and meandering up my calves like a world map. Disappointed was putting it mildly. Those legs didn’t match those shoes, but I bought them anyway. Vanity does that to a person. I told my hubby, then, about my reaction and said, “I prefer to think of those marks as ‘love marks’,” because they’d made their ugly appearance during my pregnancies.
The shoes turned out to be a bad buy. The three-inch heel was a wee too high for this gal and after a few hours of wear, the toe straps left my foot feeling strangled and red. But vanity requires sacrifice, I figure.
Three days ago my hubby came back from a week-long trip. As he unpacked he animatedly told me all about what he’d done and who he’d seen, but every so often he’d stop, look at me and say, “Umm, your legs look good!” (blush, blush) Suddenly, he caught me in his arms, murmuring tenderly in my ear, “I remember seeing those legs when you first walked on campus,” (referring back to our Bible school days.) I giggled like a teenager and decided right then I had a jewel in my arms and I better believe every word he said.
Yes, sixty can be sexy after all.

Not Even Solomon

...in all his splendor was dressed like one of these.

If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith?

So...do not worry...your heavenly Father knows what you need.

50 MILLION CONDOMS

That's how many free condoms the Brazilian government is distributing during Carnaval weekend. It's an attempt to control VD and aids. Everyone knows there will be lots of "hanky-panky" (have I dated myself??) going on, so the rationale is to try prevent disease that will weigh on government coffers in the future. Two cities in the northeastern part of the country took a more radical step and prepared kits containing, among other things, two "the day after" pills. At this the Catholic Church reacted with a strong statement on TV that if the city government does not reconsider, they will take the matter to court. I hope the church wins.

I AM ELINOR DASHWOOD

I took the quiz...you can, too.

NEW WAY TO PLAY DOMINOES!

VITAL STATISTICS

Porto Alegre (pop. 1,314,032) has all the tics of a burgeoning metropolis: street vendors barking their sales pitch, shoppers hustling down crowded sidewalks, city buses spewing diesel smoke into the air, businessmen in smart suits and ties, beautiful parks, two professional rival soccer teams, an art museum, St. Peter's theatre complete with balconies and crushed red velvet chairs, two large universities among others, dozens of hospitals, McDonald's restaurants, Pizza Hut, fancy shopping centers and much, much more. Spiritism, for example. I don't have recent statistics, but just to give you an idea, the following was taken from the city newspaper in 1995 on a series done about the city that "no one sees."
*There are 8,000 mediums in the city.
* An average of 93 roosters and chickens are sacrificed per hour--or more than 1 per minute, 2,233 per day or 67,000 per month.
*There are 1,500 stores or stands that sell religious articles.
*960,000 candles are lit every year--two candles per minute--at the 8,000 spiritist centers throughout the city.
Does this impress you? I was profoundly impressed and saddened by these stats until I found something that impressed me even more:

*God knows the number of hairs on my head! (Mt. 10.30) The average is from 100,000-150,000 with blondes having the most--140,000 strands. Multiply that by 6,645,490,513 inhabitants and you have a daily astronomical math problem.
*Not even ONE sparrow falls to the ground without God's approval. (Mt. 10:29) Alaska alone has 51 species of birds in the sparrow and warbler family; multiply that by all the states and regions in the world if you want to get dizzy trying to calculate this teeny part of the day-to-day happenings in the universe.
*God's steadfast love toward those who fear him is as great as the heavens are high above the earth. (Ps. 103:11) How high is the sky? If one counts the distance from the ground to the boundary of earth's atmosphere it is 100 quilometers, but if one goes into outer space to the farthest star, we are talking millions of light years away!
*God has removed our sins from us as far as the east is from the west. For starters, the distance from the east coast to the west coast in the USA is aproximately 3,000 miles.
*God has cast our sins into the depths of the sea. (Micah 7:19) The deepest point of the ocean is in the Mariana Trench, seven miles down, down down--deeper than I care to go.
*God's love is from everlasting to everlasting! (Ps. 103:17) I can't wrap my brain around everlasting.
*The following cannot separate us from God's love: death, life, angels, principalities, things present, things to come, powers, height, depth, anything else in all creation! (Ro. 8:38,39)

I think God has all the bases covered. Hallelujah!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, GRANDMA

My Grandma Lena was born 124 years ago today. I remember her as a gentle and quiet soul. Some of my favorite memories of her are: humongous, round sugar cookies, getting a birthday card in the mail with a dollar bill tucked inside, trying to beat her at Chinese checkers, crocheted doilies on the backs and arms of all her stuffed chairs and couches, thinking it cute of her to say Jugene instead of Eugene, sugar cubes at coffee time, her navy blue polka dot silk dress, her green bottle of mentholatum, spending lots of time admiring her salt & pepper collection, putting puzzles together, her slipping a nickle or dime in my hand for an ice cream cone, getting a letter from her with the admonition to "be a good girl," her devotion to God. Grandma, if you were alive today, I would give you a big bear hug for your birthday. I LOVE YOU.

I'M PROUD OF MY HEAVENLY FATHER'S CREATION

I've heard two popular names for this tree: gold rain and gypsy earring. These delicate flowers

delight my soul and I'm drinking in their beauty. As Joyce Kilmer says, ..."only God can make a tree."

How Much Does a Soul Weigh?

Since becoming a pastor's wife, I've discovered that "souls" are quite heavy--and frankly, I'm feeling the weight and not knowing how to deal with it. Right now I want to be free from this responsibility. So much has happened these last days...
*a man called on the phone, crying, because he had returned to doing drugs, but this time had induced his wife to join him, and after doing cocaine all night together with "friends", he was full of remorse and wanted help.
*another man who had been off drugs, was helping in the church and building his business, had three bad relapses in short order. On his last fling he disappeared for three days, returned home to a distraught wife who sent him off to a rehab center.
*a young 14 year-old girl turns up with a boyfriend and a guilty face. She's avoiding me, but I need to talk to her.
*a drunk 19 year-old totters through his parent's front gate early in the morning, to be greeted by a very sad father.
*the man who rented to us when we first moved to this town died of cancer only 15 days after he was diagnosed, but he died a believer, PTL!
*a young mother's C-section in May still has not healed. The cut is gaping open and the doctor said she has to live with it because her body has rejected the stitches.
*9 year-old André's kidney condition is worsening. At his last hospital stay, the doctor's wanted to stop his kidneys from functioning and put him on dialysis, but his parents refused.

The list could go on, plus I didn't mention the little misunderstandings that occur between members, leaders who don't lead, followers who won't follow. And this is called church. I'm very glad that Jesus said, "I will build my church, and the powers of death shall not prevail against it." (Mt. 16:18) Sometimes I forget that he's in charge, not me. You know what? This blog has helped me. I feel better already.

Beat the Heat!

We took two vacation days to spend with our kids and grandkids earlier this week. One day we went swimming at Lagoa dos Patos, the second largest lagoon in Latin America. You can see a satellite picture of it at this link: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lagoa_dos_Patos

While Patricia dreamed about how to decorate baby "Julia's" room (Yes! They chose Julia Joy Dugan Batista for their baby's name), Pat and Reesha munched on corn on the cob--a must at the beach. Emily concentrates on hers while Eric enjoys the good life.

Why Vacuum a Christmas Tree??

My sister-in-law Linda asked why one would vacuum a Christmas tree. I hasten to explain.
December in the tropics brings together a completely different set of circumstances. First of all, it is HOT. Hot means opening all the windows to catch a breeze, even if warm. Multiply one hot day by 30 or 40 (depending on when one puts up and takes down said tree) and one has fine dust blowing across room and settling on tree unbeknown to owner unless he or she accidentally bumps into branch and sees a cloud of dust rise! Tinsel (I still love it and save it from year to year!!) gets blown and tangled and strewn across floor. Christmas decorations get dusty, and because of high humidity, metalic decorations can possibly begin to rust.

Traditional Christmas foods are often made in the oven, but when it is 90º one doesn't get excited about roasting anything. Having said that, I must add that my American traditions have always won out inspite of being "counter-cultural." I bake cookies and pies and roast turkey, heating up an already very warm kitchen, sweat pouring off my body--all in the name of tradition...and I love it anyway! Try replicating Christmas on the hottest day in July or August to get the "feeling!"

Brazilians don't do a lot of baking for Christmas. They will serve roasted turkey for the Christmas Eve celebration at midnight, but Christmas Day is usually a barbecue and they serve lots of fruit. It certainly makes more sense, but then, it wouldn't be Christmas!

Candidate for Guinness Book of Records

The Guinness Book of World Records "chronicles all kinds of strange and extreme talents, feats, and accomplishments" (per the web search I just made). I would like to recommend myself for the extreme talent it took to vacuum our Christmas tree in 92º F. heat while eating a leftover Gingerbread man. Any votes?

Redeeming Christmas Church Windows

The picture I showed of the Christmas Church Windows did not do justice to its true beauty. Here is a better picture of this delicious Christmas treat!

YOU ARE MY BODY...

It was close to 1 a.m., but I had just read Michelle's New Year's Resolutions and wanted to share them with Pat. He was still awake due to our getting home late from an all-day planning meeting with the church board held at a member's beach house two-hours from home. (To keep you from getting jealous, I walked down to the beach to only wet my feet at 7:30 p.m.-- after the meeting).

We laughed and laughed as I read through Michelle's list of resolutions--Oh! how I missed her. I turned off the light but sleep wouldn't come. Then I had an "existential moment"-- possibly brought on by many different factors. Who am I, afterall? I used to be the primary care giver for four precious children who now live independent lives far from me. So who am I now? The question hung in the air. I didn't know. My identity used to be so closely intertwined with theirs, but this independence thing is supposedly life. Moving from center stage to the periphery is tricky business. The timing has to be right--the lines well thought out. It would not do to throw a wrench in the works to prevent the cycle from progressing. (I just heard of a mother who called her married son twice on his cell phone during Christmas dinner). Hot tears started rolling down my cheeks and I looked up at the ceiling and asked God, "Is there a balm in Gilead? Is there?" I kind've expected God to mystically reach out to my soul when I realized instead that human arms were hugging me. My husband was tenderly smoothing down my hair, and in the silence touched my face, held my hand. And in that moment I knew we were not alone, that a third person was present--God himself, my Father, and his embrace was the balm I had been asking for.

Mercy Drops Round us are Falling...

...but for the showers we plead--no rain, please!

It was Sunday night and upon arriving early at church discovered that there was no one there to open the door for us. Others were waiting, too. After several phone calls we discovered that the doorkeeper had been given wrong information, had been there earlier waiting to open the doors, and then left thinking there was to be no service. (That very Sunday was the first night we were to meet an hour later than normal). Someone took off to get the key while we waited. Then we noticed the sky getting darker and yes, "mercy drops"started falling and we all ran for shelter under the trees, but alas! the drops got thicker and larger and fell faster and in spite of the tree leaves, we all started getting wetter and wetter! Fortunately, before we were completely soaked, our salvation arrived and we all found shelter inside.

Christmas Church Windows a la Brasil!!

Yeah! We had Christmas Church Windows afterall! Patricia and Reesha found a marshmellowy candy that worked great...and they tasted almost identical to the original version.

Santa's Workshop

Here is proof that Santa was not shirking his duties this year....



Santa Reesha made this detailed miniature of our band!!!

A knick-knack shelf for daughter.

And another shelf & daughter...

An easy-to-set-up tent for Eric & Emily

A Hot Christmas Day Morning!

I was in the process of making coffee for our Christmas morning breakfast. Instead of using the coffee maker, I grabbed the basket part of the coffee maker and set it on top of the mouth of a thermos so the steamy brew would pour directly into it. The basket was too big for the thermos , and I noticed it tottering precariously and mentioned to my daughter, Reesha, who was nearby to be careful! The next few seconds are a blur. I just know that all of a sudden a basketful of coffee grounds and boiling water was dumped on me smack onto my stomach and right leg! I ran into the laundry room next to the kitchen, peeled off my clothes while Reesha grabbed a towel for me to make a dash to the shower. Pat decided we needed to see a doctor, so off we went. A burn is a burn, but fortunately it hasn't been very painful though most unsightely. I'm soooo thankful that my grandkids were not the victims instead of me! And they waited so patiently for us to come back from the doctor before peeking into their stockings! God is loving and compassionate!

Norwegian Lover's Knots???

A heritage from my Grandma Lena's kitchen at Christmas time was a cookie called Lover's Knots. It wasn't my favorite, but its name had a cool ring to it and the cookie did taste good. Fast forward to the early 70s when we pastored a small church in South Dakota. I was elated to be invited to a "cookie recipe party" put on by none other than Karen, the high school principal's wife. I looked up to Karen--she seemed to have it all together. We were told to bring a favorite cookie and write up several recipe cards to give away. I chose Norwegian Lover's Knots (This would be different, I thought, because this was not Norwegian country). I assumed everyone would exchange recipe cards with all those present, but that was not the case. After sampling all the cookies, if someone asked for your recipe you then produced your neatly written card. Well, guess what? Not one person asked for my recipe of lover's knots. I looked at the 10 salmon-colored cards in my hand thinking what will I do with ten recipe cards of lover's knots. (I'm still using one of them in my recipe box). I must confess I was a tad disappointed and wondered why no one had asked for my recipe. But the evening was not wasted. It was that night that I gleaned many Christmas cookie recipes that became traditions in our family like: pecan tassies (I think I suggested exhanging cards with this lady), Christmas Church Windows (so delicious!!), and Date-Nut Finger Rolls (no longer a tradition because I quit making them!)

Yesterday and today I made lover's knots. I didn't especially want to make them, but a couple of ingredients I wanted to get rid of in my frig were in the recipe, and my "saving self" got the better of me.

It wasn't easy or fun. The dough was too soft and I couldn't make the lover's knot. I didn't have the right kind of sugar to sprinkle on top. My penchant for perfection kept pinching me until I realized I was in charge here and I had the autonomy to decide whether or not it had to be done "the right way" (Isn't that always freeing?). That's when the lover's knots turned into lassos. It was so much easier, though symbolically it wasn't good! I used the only color of decorator's sugar I had on hand--pink. The egg whites made a mess on the baking sheets obligating a washing inbetween batches. I was never so happy when I pulled the last sheet out of the oven.

Ummmmm! Those broken pieces sure taste good...

Mary and baby Jesus. He didn't cry once.

The Rabbi gets a mustache with the help of one of the gossipers...

The Angel Gabriel

The stable

Reenacting the Christmas story sounds innocuous, but this year we especially perceived the enemy's attempts to abort our efforts. Our plans were for the church to present a musical performance of the beloved Christmas story at our community center instead of in our church. That's what the enemy didn't like! Here are some of the obstacles we encountered.

1).The Sunday before the event, the youth leaders, together with the young people, were to blanket the neighborhood with advertising. One of the couples in leadership had a big fight over their toilet tank (!) that day and didn't show for the first part of our church service. Later, the wife did appear and instead of blanketing the neighborhood as planned, gave out the advertising to individual church members. After church, we held our first rehearsal. It was ludicrous. Several were unable to come and there seemed to be four or five directors instead of just one! The person responsible forgot to make copies of the script, but went home to print out a few.
2). Monday night the young people were to distribute invitations. The leader commutes by motocycle and a hard rain started falling just when she would be leaving home. The meeting was postponed to Wednesday.

3). Tuesday, the person who would be playing Joseph in the play called to say he had to work the night of our performance and suggested we give his part to his brother(!). He did say he would be done with work by 8:00 p.m. which meant he could still do the play if we started later than planned.

4). Wednesday, when the young people were to distribute invitations, the leader left work feeling dizzy and went home to lie down, but eventually did arrive! She and two of the girls from the youth group scattered throughout the neighborhood while the boys--not the least interested in helping--played a game of soccer nearby.

5). Friday night was our second rehearsal--still without the full cast. I e-mailed changes in the script to our friend but they mysteriously never printed out. We decided to do the play outside instead of inside the small community center.

6). It started pouring rain on Sunday morning even though the forecast was only for a 20% chance of rain at night. We held our breath as afternoon turned into evening and no more rain. Our talented stage hands built a beautiful stable, a bench was rescured from a pile of disgarded furniture on the corner, and things started taking shape.

7). All afternoon I was feeling anxious and disturbed because I hadn't yet invited my neighbors to the event. I needed those invitations! My insides were churning and I felt restless until I fell on my knees by my bed to ask the Lord for help and grace. When the youth leader arrived around seven--an hour before show time--with more invitations, I took to the street with several others to hand out last-minute invitations. We stopped at one house where an older lady was very interested in coming, but at another a stern-faced man bluntly asked, "Who are you?"

8). Just before showtime, a fine mist began to fall. A few umbrellas popped up. Prayers also popped up to heaven for God to intervene. And the rain stopped, giving us a beautiful, cool evening.

Then the play began. I stood by my post to run the sound and lights. The director basically lost it and was trying to help everyone with everything so that no one ended up directing the play!! A whole scene was skipped over, Mary came onto stage too soon and cut off one of Joseph's songs, actors made up lines, but the audience was unaware of our mistakes, and God was present! Little baby Jesus cooperated better than anyone else. He was held, laid in a hard manger, picked up and sung to and throughout the performance didn't cry even once!! His paternal Grandma, who isn't a Christian, cried throughout the play.

The greatest part was that many, many of our neighbors came--many who had gotten a last-minute invitation--and heard the Greatest Story Ever Told, as well as a personal testimony by Pastor Pat. It was a great victory!

The older lady we had invited was enthralled. She wants me to come visit her and says she will come to visit me.

We think we should make this an annual event for our neighborhood. We are so excited at how God can work inspite of human weakness, forgetfulness or failure. To God be the glory!

BYE, BYE, RUFUS & RUBY

Rufus and Ruby Robin (I have chosen what I consider appropriate names) are now two weeks old. Their comportment changed drastically this week. Whenever I approached the window, Rufus would tuck his little head down into his feathers. The "fear of man" mecanism was definitely working. They were awake more of the time. Today, in my zeal to get a better picture of them (as you can see the one posted here was taken through a dirty window) I ever so carefully began to slide the window open, which the nest leans against, and to my utter surprise, Rufus, spread his wings and glided away! (He didn't even know he could fly, my goodness, but the fear instinct won over good sense.) Then my good sense didn't function either, and I continued my pursuit of opening the window when Ruby spread her wings and flew away, too. I was too shocked to look where they landed, but for certain it was in my neighbor's lot! Oh, Naughty Nedra, look what you've done!!! The parents are clucking and swooping low in the next-door lot and hopefully they will find their children. Please forgive me, Mr. & Mrs. Robin, for scaring your children away.

PART OF MY CHAT WITH EMILY ON MSN

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nedradugan@hotmail.com diz:
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IF YOU FALL, DO IT WITH CLASS!

Pat left in the car this morning to buy wood for Santa's workshop. He called me at noon to say he was on his way home when the car mysteriously stopped. He would call the mechanic, he said, but an hour later he called again to say he was still waiting. About a half hour later he pulled into the garage grinning sheepishly and said, "Don't ask me what was wrong!" And then proceeded to tell me.

While waiting for the mechanic, a church member pulled up and offered his help. Soon another couple from church (and neighbors as well) pulled up, too, and after a bit, the husband said, "Could it be you are out of gas?"
Well, that thought had occured to Pat, but because the gas tank indicator wasn't even in the red, he had discarded the idea. Now, it seemed like a good idea to check it out, and because the gas station was close by, he took off running like a track star, only to trip and fall head over heels in the gravel. He fell in the correct fashion, however, rolling his body, but making quite a spectacle of himself. As he peeled himself off the ground, he noticed the church member's wife had witnessed the great fall. "I'll just tell them you were picking something up from the ground," she teased.

Well, after the car guzzled some gas, it purred like a kitten and brought my hubby home safe and sound except for a scrape on his hand.

No Matter What

No matter what my circumstances, my moods or feelings, I always want to

Praise God from whom all blessings flow;
Praise Him all creatures here below.
Praise Him above ye heavenly hosts,
Praise Father, Son and Holy Ghost.

OUR DATE...

Twenty years ago--no--ten years ago, I wouldn't have thought a sixty-year-old couple had much romance left in their relationship. How wrong I was! How I have underestimated and condemned "senior citizens" to being little more than vegetables.

Well, today Pat took a day off and after taking care of a few things in the morning, we left the house after lunch to just hang out together. We drove to the neighboring town called Novo Hamburgo (New Hamburg) and the first thing Pat announced was that he would "show" me around the city (I've been there before). That consisted of walking the business district while he gave a running commentary--Dugan style--about what we were seeing. We ended up in the air-conditioned shopping center where we mosied through decorated corridors and had a McDonald's ice cream cone while listening to Christmas music in English coming from a beautifully decorated area where Santa Claus was on duty.

Now he's waiting for me to finish this so we can watch a Woody Allen movie and eat popcorn...

I Believe in Miracles

André (Andrew) just turned nine on December 2nd.


Tonight at our cell group we read the first chapter of Luke. I asked everyone to keep their eyes peeled for "miracles" and when one appeared to call out "MIRACLE" as we read the text. That helped keep the 'youths' attentive and it was a good exercise for us all. We found so many! And speaking of miracles, nine-year-old Andrew needs a miracle. His kidneys are not functioning well and he has been hospitalized for nearly a week now. His mother has been staying with him this whole time. Please pray for him and his parents.

Martha, Martha, you are worried...

The pastors gathered around our small table.

Pat gets the honor of digging the first shovel-full to place the 'symbolic' cornerstone. My disciple, Karine, was the first of our four baptismal candidates.

I was a Martha all last week, busily cleaning my house, planning what I would serve, food shopping & wondering what was the best way to distribute the seven pastors who were coming from all over Brazil ( who should get a room by himself either because he snores loudly or because he is important, who should be sent to the neighbors, who would not mind sleeping on the bad mattresses in the TV room, etc...).

The earliest arrival would be Thursday night. On Wednesday one of the pastors called and said he would arrive the next morning. That was all the incentive I needed to finish my cleaning on Thursday morning. My hands flew over the furniture, dusting, waxing, washing windows, wiping all those nasty cobwebs from crooks and crannies. But the first pastor only arrived after lunch on Thursday! Whew! My house was ready for him. A phone call later that night confirmed that the next batch would only arrive the next morning. Whew again! After our evening snack I delivered the one pastor to my neighbor's house for the night since my husband was traveling. Shortly before lunch on Friday "the batch" arrived together with the news that another pastor, his wife and her friend would also be arriving shortly! My heart did a quick flip-flop because I wasn't expecting to entertain women as well (and they would notice all the dirty corners I hadn't gotten to.) God always knows which information to withhold from us, and for me, this was it.

It was settled, then, that I would have 9 guests and my neighbors 2. (The lady friend didn't come after all).

It always sounds so spiritual to be a servant, but I discovered this weekend that it's mainly just a lot of work...and I didn't even make the main meals.

Pat had arrived at noon on Saturday after being gone five days, only to pack his bags again to speak at a church retreat. He would come back Sunday afternoon

I was awake by 6:15 Sunday morning already thinking about breakfast. The pastor-.president of our denomination had suggested we do a barbecue for lunch, but before I could start on that I had to deliver messages to church members in our neighborhood about our own church program that afternoon. Later I would have to to make a quick appearance at a baby shower. At 4 p.m. our church was holding a symbolic cornerstone-laying ceremony, followed by a baptism in a neighbor's swimming pool, followed by Christmas program practice! Some of our pastor friends would be leaving after lunch and with that many people trying to get ready, here's a little of what transpired:

Do you have an iron?

Is it 110?

Could I have some water?

Do you have a hanger we could use? We'll bring it back.

My friend would like to buy 5 of your cds. ...

Could I use your computer? (one pastor)

Could I use your computer and printer? (another pastor)

Would you download that picture you took of me so I can transfer it to my Ipod?

By the end of the day I was exhausted. My husband more than I. Then he realized he would have to wait up for the group that had traveled to a nearby city in order to open up the gate for them to park their car. (They got home at 1:30 a.m.) I heard them come in. I heard them knock on our door at 4:30 a.m. to wake Pat up to travel. I heard Pat's alarm go off shortly afterwards. I heard Pat's alarm go off again! Pat got up to tell them he wasn't going to travel with them as previously planned and waited up to open and close the gate. Then we slept until 8. Today was my Sunday. I had the opposite of an adrenalin rush today and I think I understand perfectly the Martha, Martha from the Bible. I'm convinced she was a fine woman.

One-Week Old Robins

These babies don't do much during the day--only eat and sleep. What a BIG mouth!!

Unless you become as little children...

Do you like this pose?

They devoured the milk voraciously--like we should "drink" the Word.

Well, maybe this isn't what the Scriptures mean about becoming like little children, but it felt good to go for a ride on the back of an eight-year-old pony and give a bottle to a pair of month-old lambs! These animals are part of the "living manger scene" that will be performing throughout the month of December in the public park in town.

Wild Pig, An Anteater and Transformation by Pat Dugan

Our boat, Angel of the River

Pat and Benides, our leader in Paraguay

Edgard and his happy crew!

I gnawed another bite off the wild pig’s rib straining to catch some meaning from the babble of guarani mixed with Spanish. I was several hours up the Paraguay River from Asunción finishing off an eventful day in the company of my missionary colleagues and a happy array of river people. Edgard, a Christian for five years, who fished not only for catfish but for men, was trying to tell me the story of his daughter’s healing that had led to his conversion. I wasn’t getting very much of his earnest testimony. His twenty-three-year-old wife, her straight black hair and high cheekbones a tribute to her Indian heritage, was trying to keep order in spite of her swollen tummy. She is expecting her eighth child (yes, you read that right) in a couple of months. The kids, neat and clean in simple clothes, healthy and happily uninhibited, alternately jumped up on our laps or devoured roast pig.
My mind went back a few hours to another family gathering two and one-half hours up river. We had enjoyed the breezy trip north on the boat run by the Bethany team in Paraguay. The river was gorgeous and the scenery serene. In a moment of excitement a wounded wild pig, later to be our supper, had been fished out of the river by the experienced crew and quickly killed and butchered. Finally, the Anjo do Rio (River Angel) glided to a stop just below a scattered group of simple dwellings high on the bank. After a twenty minute walk we arrived at our destination, one
of the boat ministry’s preaching points. The matron of the clan welcomed us warmly.


The other adults and older children peered warily at us from the shadows of the long, low, thatched-roof house made of palm logs staked in the ground. There were no doors, no windows; just a basic, single, multipurpose room that opened toward the river and a patio of packed earth. We seemed to be in a cultural limbo midway between tribe and village. There was no electricity, no bathroom or running water (except for the murky river water) but ironically a cell phone hung from a pole!



As we sat on the patio, the older family members hid in the house while missionary Benides described the darkness of their lives, the uncertainty of fishing and the manioc harvest, the frustrated attempts at life in the city, the isolation due to the lack of Spanish language skills. But beyond the facts of their precarious existence, the moral and spiritual darkness he described was almost palpable: the endemic sexual abuse of children. Parents, sometimes in desperation, offer daughters as “ticas-ei” (lovers) in the hope of finding a bridge to a better life for the family. Their only spiritual alternative is a wildly syncretistic, idolatrous form of Christianity.

The hostess brought out a bowl of freshly roasted anteater meat served with bread. It was fatty but spicy and good. Pretty soon a missionary guitar started to strum Paraguayan rhythms and sing gospel songs in guarani, the language of their hearts. The younger ones drew slowly nearer. The little ones quickly lost their inhibitions and began singing and doing the motions to songs about Jesus and salvation.

Home is where you hang your hat!


I saw in their beautiful tanned faces the shine of infant innocence and purity…the look of children around the world, just like the four I had raised. As they danced and laughed I tried to imagine what those beautiful brown eyes had already seen of suffering and evil as well as what they saw as their future. I paled at the thought. Their only link to a better life was a little crew on a modest river boat that pulled up to their shore.
A bowl of banana ice cream brought me back to the present. Edgard was still telling his stories and extolling the Lord. My mind had closed down and refused to decode any more obscure language. Still I watched him as he alternated talk with hugging his
exuberant progeny while downing ice cream.
The River Angel

Here is what the gospel of Jesus Christ does in the life of a family. Not just a ticket to heaven, but life abundant in an isolated village on the bank of a river—or it could be in downtown São Paulo. I was tackled by one of his little boys and as I wrestled happily with him I thought, “What a difference the gospel makes! I am glad to be a missionary.”
Of course I do much better in the city where there are showers and shopping centers and Pizza Hut. The wild pig is okay but I can think of things I’d rather eat…

IT'S THE BEST TIME OF THE YEAR!

Bethlehem Blue

I want to go caroling...

...or make a snowman!

I remember my one-room school house!

Celebration!!

Expectation...

Yesterday I cleaned until after midnight. When I finally fell into bed I wasn't the least bit sleepy. My legs felt sticky from my great physical exertion. My right knee ached and my hip. (Maybe I shouldn't have picked up that 20 pound-flour bag??) At 1:15 a.m. I got up and showered. Back in bed I was still not sleepy. I tried reading the Psalms, I tried counting backwards from 1000. Sometime after two I fell asleep. Today I was motivated to clean. I flew through the house, washing windows, waxing the living room floor, dusting, making up the beds and placing the sweet-smelling comforters on all the beds (another task I did yesterday was washing all the comforters and hanging them on the line so they would have that fresh, country smell. I only have one line, and I overloaded it because it broke and all my freshly washed bedspreads fell on the floor--some in a puddle of water--but damage was minimal! )--all because one of the pastors called and said he would be in town by 10:30 or 11:00 a.m.
"Oh, Lord," I pleaded as I whipped the floor rag over the smooth kitchen tiled floor. Why hadn't I been more focused on the other days?? But, mysteriously, (God moves in mysterious ways...) I was able to sail through my tasks, and when the phone rang at 1:30 p.m. I was basically READY FOR COMPANY--a true miracle. Now here I sit at the computer while my guest is watching the evening news. We have had our evening meal and done a lot of talking about churches. Later I will send him over to the neighbors for the night as none of the other pastors will arrive until tomorrow morning.

And there's a chocolate cake waiting to be eaten upstairs.!!

The 3rd robin's egg hatched, but there's no sign of him in the nest. I think he's in birdie heaven.

P.S.

I'm happy to say that's the last of my Thanksgiving leftovers!

TURKEY SOUP AGAIN TODAY!

I'm really getting mileage out of my Thanksgiving leftovers. I froze some of the turkey soup I'd made thinking my husband would love the privilege of tasting it, but I didn't have the courage to serve it. Instead, I had turkey soup today and yesterday while my husband is traveling--again. Today is Day 3 and I must admit I'm not motivated to do much. The regional superintendents of our Bethany churches will be staying at our place over the weekend and that still hasn't been enough motivation for tackling my housecleaning with vim & vigor. I've been picking at it since Monday. Without my husband I get introspective, analytical and life gets way too serious. I can blame part of this "moodiness" on the movie our cell group watched last night, "At the End of the Spear" about the missionaries to the Auca Indians in Ecuador . Today I watched the documentary part and it left me teary-eyed and pensive. It's definitely a must-see if you haven't yet watched it.

Now it's back to cleaning...

BABY BIRDS BORN

I had another surprise today. As I walked past the birds' bedroom, the mama or papa (?) bird looked like it might be pecking the little blue eggs, and my presence startled her so she flew away and gave me a chance to peek in the nest. Two of the ugliest birds lay in the nest, their hearts beating like crazy. Their eyes bulged out and they looked very uncomfortable, just kind of bunched up. But how exciting to participate in this little family affair.

WOULD-BE STUDENT FOR A DAY

For weeks I wrestled with the issue of going back to school. I tossed the pros and cons around like a professional juggler. I prayed. I prayed. I prayed. I searched the web. I sought counsel from two important people at the university...and then I made the leap! And as I leapt, I prayed, "Lord, I feel like a blind person feeling his way, but here I go..." I registered for the entrance exam and paid my fee on the deadline for registering. Then Pat and I celebrated by having coffee at the University Coffee Shop. I began to imagine myself rubbing shoulders with college kids that could be my children and I wondered if I could actually DO the classes, but before that, I wondered if I could even pass the entrance exam. We drove home, my mind chuck-full of new possibilities.

The very next afternoon as I was driving in traffic, my cell phone rang! It was the gal from the university I'd talked to yesterday and she bore sad tidings: not enough students had signed up for the course I'd signed up for and they would be unable to offer it. Would I like to migrate to another course that would have some of the same classes???

All of a sudden my plans turned to ashes, but I strangely felt peace about saying no to it all. I'd prayed for God to guide me. He'd allowed me to go as far as paying the exam fee, then shut the door, but I expect he'll open a better one...