Weight Watchers

1 1/2 years ago, I gave a brief attempt at Weight Watchers in Oxford. I was impressed with the system and philosophy, but for some reason didn't continue (and in Amman, it seemed near impossible). Now I've signed up for three months of WW Online, and really really want it to make a difference! My eating and weight are out of control, and I don't like that feeling!

Today was my first day. By the time I sat down to input my morning and lunch food, I'd already surpassed my daily allowance of points!! Oops... So "dinner" was just fruit and veg. Not bad, when it's ripe peaches, watermelon and home-grown basil with home-grown tomatoes! Please pray for me, as you feel led, to stay strong and resist temptation as I seek to treat my body more as a temple of the Holy Spirit, fearfully and wonderfully made. Thanks...

Final Countdown...

The kids are crossing off the days on our calendar, and our countdown is now 24. Twenty-four days left to enjoy scrumptious yogurt, cucumbers, pita bread, olive oil, date syrup, falafel. Twenty-four days left to be surrounded by Arabic script, language and music. 24 days before we trade our spacious 3-bedroom flat for our cozy 1 bedroom basement apartment. 24 days to get medical and dental appointments taken care of so that we can avoid the crazy American healthcare system for just a bit longer. 24 days to see the last special sights in Jordan and Israel – hoping to make it to Petra, Karak, Jerusalem, Bethlehem, and Galilee.

Our friends have already been leaving for a few weeks now. Because Ramadan falls in the height of summer this year (and will for the upcoming years), even more Westerners are going on overseas vacations than would normally. Though I haven’t experienced it for myself, they almost unanimously agree that Amman is not a nice place to be during a baking-hot month of fasting. So between people leaving for home assignments and others leaving for vacations, we’ve said goodbye to multiple dear friends this month.

In a way, I’m grateful for early departures of friends, as Amman will feel less and less like home, the fewer friends we have here. And the less it feels like home, maybe the easier it will be to leave.

Kid Update April 2011

Ethan (4 1/3)– can write his name, and form all letters by copying them. He loves to write notes to people! With his improved verbal language, we can now understand him much better as he asks all sorts of questions and shows great thought. He has a good throwing arm and a great sense of humor (his speech therapist says he's the silliest child she's ever worked with). He still uses some British terms, like “sweetie” (for candy) and “biscuit” (for cookie), and can not answer the common question "Where are you from?"

Josiah (7 1/2)– is our natural teacher in the family and loves explaining things to Ethan. He loves to run and is so happy to now be playing T-ball. His spelling is on a 5^th grade level and he easily keeps up with Naomi in all our 3^rd grade home school work. He still enjoys playing with his stuffed animals, but also likes to read Hardy Boy books and help me cook. He is quite the comedian and loves entertaining our family with his antics. He is anxious to go back to America to see relatives and toys he'd left behind 3 years ago.

Naomi (8 1/2) – sings constantly, often making up her own songs or lyrics. She also remembers tunes incredibly well, some after hearing only once, others after years of not having heard them at all. She is fascinated with cursive writing, and so I've begun teaching her the cursive alphabet. She reads every minute she can. After having read every Enid Blyton mystery we own, and all the Little House books, she's now working on Nancy Drew. Naomi is great at batting and is loving baseball. She says she’s liked living in different countries.

Things I Miss...

about America:

• my bread machine
• my electric mixer
• having a car
• my pastry cutter
• Root beer
• Cool whip
• Always understanding everybody
• Being able to easily read all price tags and signs
• Endless water supply
• Hot water on demand
• Mexican food
• Big libraries
• Wearing seatbelts
  
• Not standing out as different
• air conditioning and central heat
• One-stop shopping at places like Wal-Mart
  

about Great Britian:

• Gorgeous old architecture everywhere
• Libraries within walking distance
• The Thames
• Green
• British vocabulary and accents
• Orderliness (queuing!!)
• Zed
• Ginger beer and lemonade (fizzy)
• Ginger cake & mince pies
• Buses and trains
• Zebra crossings
• River walks and other paths
• Cycling
• A keen awareness & interest in European & world affairs
• Tea with milk and sugar
• Choir-singing (me and Naomi)
  

And what I think I'll miss about Jordan:

• Best fresh pita bread ever
• Fresh hummus
• Fresh falafel
• Palm trees
• Cheap taxis
• Very international church
• Spacious house
• Sunshine
• Modestly dressed women
• Camels, sheep, donkeys & goats
• Crazy driving
• Bakeries
• Roman ruins and Biblical sites
• Arab music
• tea with mint
• being next door to a corner shop that carries (almost) everything!
  

But of course, for everywhere, what I miss (or will miss) the most is dear people. Family who have known me my whole life. Friends that I've made recently, and friends who I've known for years. And godly, Bible-teaching, hospitable churches in every home we've had.

Trust in the Midst of Darkness

Our year in Amman is winding down, with a departure date now set for
June 22. Everyone assumes this means we have a “next step.” We don’t.
We’ll have a 24-hour layover in Rome (YAY!!) and then arrive in D.C. on
June 23. Thankfully Steve’s parents are gracious enough to let us crash
at their place in Lexington, VA, while we get our life sorted. 

Steve had applied to many graduate programs, hoping to do a PhD in Islamic history next year, but most have said “no.” It’s a bad time to need a funded program, as everyone’s finances are so strapped. We still have two possibilities, but I don’t know how much to hope for. One would be in Tennessee, the other in Exeter, England.

It’s not a fun place to be, in this desert of uncertainty. With loans to pay back and 3 kids to care for, the stress can overwhelm us. We alone do not have the means or the strength to endure, but we have a God who knows no bounds and works all things for good. The hard part is trusting him through these dark valleys, and surrendering all plans to him. He might very well have something completely unexpected in our future. May we have the grace to accept whatever it is.

Memories of Grandpa's House, Part 2

Though my grandparents’ house is small, every one of its few rooms holds sweet memories. There are two bedrooms, and in one of those, I remember watching a few great movies. I’m not sure if the TV was always in that room, or whether it was wheeled in there so the grown-ups could have some adult time. But “Black Arrow” was one story that impressed me as a child.

I spent my first 14 years living within a couple hours of San Diego, so I had many chances to spend nights at Grandma and Grandpa’s house. One such night, I was sleeping in a sleeping bag, on an inflatable air mattress, and woke up in the middle of the night to the repeated sound of a bell ringing. In my groggy half-dream state, I assumed it was the grandfather clock striking midnight. The next morning, I found that I was completely on the floor, rather than on the air mattress, and heard the report that there had been an earthquake the previous night. My grandparents didn’t own a grandfather clock, so what I had heard was the doorbell dinging during the quake. And I’d slid right off the mattress during the shaking as well.

The kitchen holds both really early memories and much later ones. My grandma was an artist and I treasured the times we spent in the kitchen working on projects together. Sometimes she would have ceramic figurines ready for us to paint, and I’m not sure which I liked more: painting them myself or watching my artistic mom painting hers. Sometimes she would have iron-on crayon activities for us. One year she let us decorate pairs of underwear with our own designs. This was a fun thing for 6- and 8-year olds! Another year, she had us make designs that reminded us of special summer memories, and we ironed them on to bed-sheets, one for each of us kids.

I also have fond memories of my grandpa in the kitchen. The funniest was when Grandpa would throw spaghetti noodles onto the ceiling to see if they stuck. I think the idea was that if they didn’t, they weren’t yet ready to eat. But many years later, as a college student, the kitchen is where Grandpa and his wife Julie kindly taught me about American football. On the small kitchen TV, I watched my first football game. Can you believe it took me 19 years to see football? At the time, I was developing a friendship with a classmate who was quite athletic. Football was one of his sports, so Grandpa and Julie felt I should learn at least the basics. A month later, as I watched the Superbowl at Jeff’s house, I was glad that Grandpa and Julie had helped me out like that!

And finally, my very sweetest memory of Grandpa’s kitchen was when I was 21. My friend (now husband) Steve had graduated from Wheaton College in ’97 and was living back in San Diego. He and I had spent some time together over Christmas break, while my family was staying at Grandpa’s house. As a grand finale to our time together, I planned to “kidnap” him and take him out to coffee. I borrowed our family’s car, made arrangements with Steve’s parents, blindfolded him, and took him to Starbucks, where we had a great time to talk and pray together.

Then, not wanting the evening to end, Steve borrowed his dad’s car and took me for a driving tour of the hills above his neighborhoods of Escondido and Poway. We were both falling in love, but hadn’t said it yet. And as I drove back to Grandpa’s house at midnight, though I was on cloud nine, I was a bit worried about waking my family up when I arrived.

Imagine my surprise and delight, when my dad greeted me at the front door, and invited me into the kitchen for cups of cocoa. He wanted to hear all about my evening and all about Steve. He’d waited up for me and shared in my excitement. Because my parents and I had been an ocean apart for all my other dating experiences, I hadn’t gotten to share like that with them any other time. I thanked the Lord for a dad like mine, and for my Grandpa’s kitchen.

Memories of Grandpa's House, Part 1

I have lived in 27 homes over the course of my 34 years, some of which were only for a few months, and none of which include my 4 years of dorm-living in college. My homes have spanned 4 states and 4 continents, and yes I feel homeless in many ways.

The one geographical constant during my entire life, is my grandpa’s house in San Diego. Though I sadly haven’t visited there in the past 5 years, I still have many precious memories of every room in his house. When I do go back, I feel like it’s the one safe place in the world. My refuge. My place of identity. My place where I belong, even just as a grand-daughter.

In the front yard, my memories involve plants. Under the living room window were some strawberry plants which provided yummy fruit for little fingers. And along the driveway were sweet pea plants, fragrant and beautiful, as well as an “Elizabeth rose,” which I liked because it matched my name. A large tree on the street sometimes dropped seed pods that I remember coloring in an effort to create pretend food for our childhood make-believe games.

The living room is one of the most precious places. A large wardrobe stood in the corner, the bottom drawer of which held games and children’s books for us to enjoy whenever we visited. It also had a full-length mirror which was fun to dance in front of. When I was little, the living room couches were ones that rocked. We spent many hours cuddling with Grandma, Grandpa, aunts and uncles, on those couches, reading books, singing Christmas carols, playing “Dictionary.” My grandparents used to have a black cat, who would also join us in the living room. For my first 9 years, it was the only “pet” in my life.

Another prize of the living room was a player piano. We would choose a song scroll, load it on the gears above the keyboard, and then pump the foot pedals to make the piano “play” the music. I remember watching in fascination as the piano keys magically moved up and down, producing beautiful music. It was so fun!

The piano was also my first place to test out some piano playing of my own. I’d fallen in love with Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata (movement 1) and when my uncle David heard me trying to copy it on the piano, he offered to get me the sheet music for it. For years, it was the only music I owned, and I quickly memorized the first two movements.

My mom, my aunt Marybeth, and my Grandma all played piano, and Marybeth and Dad also played guitar, so we spent many hours enjoying music in the living room. I have a cousin Marcy who’s 2 years younger than me, and since I didn’t have a sister until I was 5 ½, we liked pretending we were twin sisters. One year at Christmas time, we planned a “ball” and dressed up and danced as the adults patiently and kindly played Christmas carols for us. Those were some of the happiest moments of my life.

Other precious moments were sitting in Grandpa’s lap, enthralled while hearing him read the “Bear story;” lying in my sleeping bag on the floor as Grandma stroked my hair – she was the only one I remember doing that; and then more than a decade later, Grandpa comforting me (the big college student) as I writhed in pain on the living room floor because of a terrible boil in my ear. “If these old walls could speak, they would have a tale to tell…”