Gifts of Grace

Grace /gras/ n 1: unmerited help given to people by God 2: freedom from sin coming through divine grace 3: a virtue coming from God 8:CHARM 9: ATTRACTIVENESS, BEAUTY 11: ease of movement

I had a nasty temper. I mean really ugly, un-controlled, violent anger volcano-ing out of my eyes, mouth and hands at the least provocation, anger that had been a part of my internal make up since childhood. God is worked miraculous victory, changing me from the inside out – but those memories of ugly rage, sinful lashing out, and agonizing feelings still shape the way I see myself. So you can imagine how much it meant to me when a woman named Grace for whom I have great respect- a woman who to me embodies quietness, gentle grace and productivity that is precious in the sight of God, gave me an unexpected mother’s day gift along with an encouraging note. If the weight of a compliment is measured by the character of the giver the words of that note were solid gold, which I shall treasure for the rest of my life. The gift that came along with this blessing of words was a book titled “Glimpses of Grace: Treasuring the Gospel in Your Home.” I looked at the book, read the back with much excitement and then stuffed it in my carry-on bag and ran out the door to Hartsfield International Airport. I had a short flight from Atlanta to Detroit, then a layover, then a fourteen hour flight from Detroit home to Seoul. It was a long trip to make alone with three kids, and moving around the airport was especially tricky as we had used our trip back to the states to buy all our summer clothes and were thus hauling seven bags in addition to our pillows pals, souvenirs, and a homemade bow and arrow, but I wasn’t terribly worried. I had done the reverse flight just a few weeks before and the kids were great travelers. So, with a little patience and plenty of digital entertainment I figured we would be fine. But then, the flights were full and we, travelling on standby, didn’t get on. No big deal, this sort of thing happens when we fly stand by. We would just try the next flight- except that flight was full too, and the next, and there were no more flights until the next day and they were already full too. When we didn’t get on the last flight I felt devastated. I was tired and hungry and I wanted to go home to my husband. There were these kids who had already been sitting in an airport for an entire day and were tired of carrying their heavy bags and there were all these people and no one could tell me how I was going to get home. Was it awful? Were we miserable? Was this where my nasty temper took charge with angry growls at the children to sit down and stop complaining? It could have been- for a brief moment it almost was- but then, there was grace. As we sat after that last plane I read the book, my gift of grace from Grace. I read about the gospel, and God’s gift to me, and getting home didn’t seem so desperate any more. God took any frustration or desperation from me and let me enjoy the challenge instead- he freed me from my ugly temper- he gave me grace. Then God gave all three kids great attitudes even though they did enough walking and ruck marching for Dallas to develop raw spots on his shoulders where his backpack straps rubbed him through his t-shirt- God gave us grace. We had no trouble getting a hotel, and even though it was past bedtime, we pulled bathing suits out of our bags and tumbled into the hotel pool- where we soaked in grace. The next day was another entire day spent in the airport. Time and time again fellow passengers complimented the kids on being well behaved, or talked and laughed with us about our adventure. Stressed gate agents stopped and talked to me about their day and did everything they could to make us comfortable. My three kids and I ended up stuck in the Detroit airport for two days. We flew out of Atlanta on Tuesday morning and on Thursday night we flew back to Atlanta to try another route home. Between those times we spent hours sitting in the USO waiting for flights, we traveled up and down the concourse at least six times carrying our entire luggage from gate to gate to gate, and we experienced a glimpse of grace. It was grace- a free gift from God that helped us, that kept me from being slave to my temper, grace that gave us gracious attitudes toward one another. It was grace that attracted people to us and made it easy for us to move through the airport. Because God is gracious, even though we didn’t deserve it, He gave us the ability to move through this adventure with grace. See, grace is like that- it’s the nature of a gift, but it’s also the nature of the giver, and the nature of the work upon the receiver, just like my book, Glimpses of Grace, was a gift from Grace and helped me be graceful during my adventure in Detroit. So, this today, I am saying “thank you Grace, for grace.” And as a side note, I did eventually get home to Seoul- I’m there now writing through a jet legged haze, sitting next to one of my biggest gifts of grace.

A Wedding Toast for My Sister

On May 11, 2013 my baby sister married a boy named David who has captured her heart as wonderfully as my beloved husband has mine.  My heart can’t contain how happy I am for her as love positively glows off of her and I hope this is the begining of a powerful work of God in both their lives.  Spilling my champaigne with nerves I was able to share a few words at their reception in the traditional Maid of Honor toast.  My dad asked me to write them down, so here is my last hurrah at being a bossy big sister.

“David, I haven’t gotten to interrogate you the way I would really have liked, but I know you must be a man of exceptional character because of how hard my sister has fallen for you.  So let me take a moment and tell you about this woman that you have married.  You already know Kaitlyn is strong, hardworking, tough, and determined, but this is also the blond haired toddler who could climb up on the knee of our Korean War Vet, Marine Corp grandfather and convince him to make Grover’s funny voice every time he read Grover Goes to the Farm.

She is the preschooler who went gaga at Minnie’s House in Disney Land.

She’s the middle schooler who spent a summer living on our porch roof with her best friend calling themselves roof gnomes.

She wore hot pink tennis shoes under her homecoming dress.

And her nephews and neices think it is important for you to know she can run fast, but not fast enough to beat them in a race.

 

In short, David, this girl is the treasure of our family.  So here’s what you’re going to do.  You are going to spend every minute of every day intentionally, passionately, whole heartedly loving… your Savior.  You are going to read your Bible every day, and you are going to pray for wisdom to lead this family which has been entrusted to you by God and us.  You are going to pray for humility to love and forgive Kaitlyn as God has loved and forgiven you.

And you, Kaitlyn- you are going to read your Bible every day.  And you are going to pray for wisdom to support David in his decisions and be his vanguard against sin. You are going to pray for humility to follow him, and to experience the joy of being loved by a man of God.

And everyone else, who joins with them to celebrate their marriage- here’s what you are going to do.  You are going to pray for them, and for every couple like them who is trying to do the impossible: to put to death their sin natures and self interests, and become a living, breathing picture of Christ and his beautiful bride, the church.  So let’s do that now.  Lift your glasses with me as we lift up this couple.  God, we pray for Kaitlyn and David, that your spirit will fill them and bind them unshakably.  And now…

To Kaity and David and the Spirit who Binds Them.”

Mr. and Mrs. David Witt

 

Chocolate Bubbles

“Mom, today is the first day of the month!  That means I cook!”  Dallas had been begging me for weeks to set aside one day as a “kid’s cook” day.  “David and Ana and I can pick out the menu and get the ingredients when we go to the grocery store and then we can do all the cooking and you and dad can go read your Bibles.”  Really, how do you turn that down?  So I had agreed to make the first of every month “Kid’s Cook” Day, but today was the first of May, and not only had we not planned a menu or picked up ingredients, but we were leaving for an international trip the next day, we weren’t packed, my todo list was a mile long, we had spent the entire day cleaning the kitchen and we were supposed to attend a pot luck at church in the evening.  It was not a good day to turn kids loose in the kitchen.  Still, I had committed, however regrettably, to this date, and two big brown eyes weren’t going to let me forget it. “Ok, Dallas.  I guess you could make a cake for Bible study.  We could grab frosting while we are out this afternoon, but please, please keep the kitchen clean.   You know we just spent the whole morning scrubbing it.”  “OK Mom.  Don’t worry, I will take care of it!”  I gave him the recipe.  A chocolate cake from scratch.  Ambitious for an eight year old, maybe, but Dallas has actually done quite a bit of cooking.  So, I handed him the recipe, made him responsible for his little brother, and took his little sister with me to clean the bedrooms.  “Let us see what Squirt does flying solo” right? (Finding Nemo)  And when I passed through the kitchen a few minutes later I was impressed.  Dallas and David had mop and dish cloth in hand.  After each ingredient they were mopping up any spills, then Dallas would read the next ingredient and measure it out for David to pour in. Over the next thirty minutes I checked on them periodically and they ran in to ask the location of certain ingredients.  Elliana and I were hunched on the bottom bunk of the boys’ bunk bed, scrubbing a smudgy wall with magic erasers when Dallas ran in again.

“Mom, we only have enough baking powder for one cup and the recipe calls for three!”  Pause.

“Dallas, did you just put a cup of baking powder in your cake batter?”

“Yes, the recipe calls for it.”

“Go read it again.  I don’t think that is what the recipe says.”

“Yes, it is, see, right here, ‘three…’ oh, ‘three teaspoons.’  Oops.”

“Yeah.”

So we looked in the bowl, and there was the baking powder, dumped right on top of the sugar, salt, flour, and all kinds of other all-white ingredients.  I scooped out what I could, dumping it into the trash while telling Dallas “I’ll do what I can but  it’s hit or miss.  The cake might not work now.”  “Just from one ingredient?”  “Yeah.”  Dallas finished the cake, we mixed it up and it tasted great.  It was just the right texture.  The kids took turns carefully scooping it into a muffin pan, and I slid it into the oven.  Five minutes later I noticed the cupcakes smelled done already- in fact, they almost smelled burnt.  Hmmm… Opening the oven to investigate I was hit in the face with a cloud of black smoke.   The cupcakes had erupted up in a mushroom cloud of atomized chocolate then collapsed in a ring of sticky, gooey, chocolate sludge.  “Kids, I hate to break it to you, but I think your cake might have exploded.”  I grabbed oven mitts and started pulling the toxic waste out of the oven, but the fall out on the oven floor was still smoking and we live in an apartment building.  If our smoke alarm goes of the whole building evacuates.  Envisioning a crowd of angry housewives and toddlers spending the morning in the parking lot because of our chocolate cake I shouted to the kids to grab towels and wave them under the smoke detectors while I turned off the oven and tried to stop the smoking.  Chaos erupted briefly as kids ran back and forth across the house shouting and waving dish rags, but in the end the alarms did not go off and a few minutes later I caught up with Dallas:

“So, what happened?”

“I didn’t read the recipe right and the cake exploded!” (Said with the glee and appreciation only an eight year old boy can invest into the word “exploded!”)

“And what were the consequences?”  His face turned a little more serious, not downcast, but thoughtful.

“We don’t have a cake, and there’s kind of a mess.”

“Mmmhhmm, and what about all those ingredients you used?”

“Well, I guess they were wasted.”

“Yup. So who is going to take care of most of those consequences?”

“Me?”

“Nope. I am going to make sure we have something for small group.  I am going to clean up, and Dad is going to keep working so we can buy more ingredients.”

“Oh.”

“See, when you are little we will help you out with the consequences as much as we can, but when you are bigger there will be no one; you will have to take care of them yourself.  That is why Dad and I are always harping on you about being self controlled.  Go slowly and think before you act because a minute of carelessness always has consequences.”

“OK.”

Then we ate the remains of the exploded chocolate cake.  With apples, we called them chocolate bubbles.  Dallas is working on perfecting the recipe- intentionally this time.

 

 

Spring In Seoul

    It should be considered a travesty that I can title a post “Spring in Seoul” and not include a single picture of cherry blossoms.  About a week ago every patch of dirt peeking through the concrete was suddenly filled with flowers.  Pear trees and azaleas in every shade from white to red, forsythia, lilac, clematis, orchids outside of every restaurant, and exotic-looking bleeding hearts and columbines enchant the city like rainbow will-o-the-whisps appearing around every corner and peeking out from the most unexpected places. There are no daffodils- no Bradford pear trees (and no one mourns,) and its colder that we are used, so we can still be found wrapped in our coats and huddling in the sun, but in every place that grass triumphs over concrete there are kids, pulling off their shoes, picking dandelions, splashing in puddles and climbing up every vertical surface.

Every Korean kid has his own umbrella and when I have taken my little ones out without umbrellas other adults will actually hold their umbrellas over my kids heads as they walk along with us.  Here David is walking home from the library holding the new sketch book which the librarians gave to every child to celebrate library week.

Elliana at Blute

On Thursdays we join a group of our neighbors for a hike around Seoul.  Our first hike took place in a drenching, cold rain, (one of those times when strangers felt the need to hold their umbrellas over my boys.)  To hide from the rain our guide brought us into a hybrid coffee shop/florist called Blute.

Choco mint latte

The kids were soaked and freezing, (a trend I am noticing about our time in Korea.  Maybe it is time to invest in rain coats.)  Wanting to reward them for their courageous attitudes I bought them a 6000W ($6) Choco Mint Latte (mint hot chocolate.)  I thought I would be smart and read the name in Korean.  After about five minutes of sounding out the Hangul characters I realized they were pronounced  “choco mint latte.”

With every tray a bouquet!

Entering Blute is like stepping into a pre raphaelite painting.  There were so many neat details that I let the kids take turns wandering the store with my camera and practicing their photography skills.  Leave it to David to break into some kind of class happening in the basement and snap this priceless shot that just shows what it is like to be David.

If rainy days are flower shops and fancy hot chocolate, sunny days are compost and the community garden.  We were blessed to meet a family who brought us on board with this start up venture.  This week we interrupted our school day to gather green waste and stuff pallets for lasagne gardening.  Saturday the men managed to somehow find a wheel barrow which they pushed off into the furthermost reaches of Hannam village and magically returned filled with dirt.  The kids helped transport the dirt over the chain link fence and spread it on our garden.

We call this creative gardening- yes, those are mixing bowls.

No garden is complete without a fairy house.

Haughty Eyes

This week I began to meet people- insistently initiating conversations on the playground, forcibly inserting myself into face book conversations, doggedly hounding those poor people who had given me their phone numbers into becoming a part of my social circle and trying to impress everyone with how great I am.  Yeah, you read that last part right.  See, I had planned on blogging a tour of my new apartment this week, but it turns out God wanted to take me on a tour of my heart instead- and it stinks.  Proverbs 21:4 says “Haughty eyes and a proud heart, The lamp of the wicked, is sin.”  A lamp shines outward, spreading the light it contains to those around.  So, if haughty eyes and a proud heart are the lamp of the wicked, maybe they are the visible manifestations, or output of wickedness.   If so, what does that say about me?  I have been looking around myself at the residents of my new home with haughty eyes.  I have pride-fully considered others as less than myself- “ I bet they still have boxes to unpack.”  “I bet they aren’t having as nutritious a dinner as us tonight since I have already cooked this morning and they are just running to the commissary at 6 pm.”  “I would never treat my kids like that.”  I am a show-off, eager to present my “togetherness” to others.  The truth is that every good thing in my life- the blessings I enjoy in my family life, my beloved husband, my relationship with Christ- are all gifts from God, and not only do I do nothing to bring them about, I am almost constantly a terrible steward of them.  If you got 30 seconds to glimpse into my heart you would be sickened by the inclinations and thoughts from silly to violent, from unwise to pornographic, that are laced through my nature.  If you could know this real me- the base and ugly adulteress, ill-tempered and lustful, then you could see just how much God does for me every day.  If you could see how He intervenes to protect me from myself and how He festoons me gifts of righteousness- a moment of patience here, a glistening drop of compassion there, a sparkle of faith piece by piece remaking me- then you would know that He is undeniably gracious and mighty and good!  If you could see how bad I really am than you would know just how incredible He is.  Yet, I spend all day every day trying to create the opposite effect.  Rather than letting you see how great is the work He has done in my life, I spend a ton of energy trying to make it seem as if I don’t really need Him.  I hide His signature on my life by making it look like I have it all together.  I hide Him and that is wickedness.  Proverbs 21:10 says “The soul of the wicked desires evil; His neighbor finds no favor in his eyes.”  1 Corinthians 13:4 says “Love… does not boast, it is not proud.”  Proverbs 6:16 says that God hates and despises haughty eyes.  My haughty eyes need to be cut out.  Ugly scars would be a better reflection of the real me and blindness would give others a chance to watch God’s gentleness and romance in leading me.

A Great Sense of Humor

Before we moved to Korea my father gave us a piece of lighthearted advice. “There are two things you need to enjoy your time in Korea: a great sense of humor, and no sense of smell.” We knew the second was true the minute we landed, but it has taken experience to understand exactly what my father meant by saying we needed a great sense of humor. It may be true of life in any foreign country, but our last few weeks have been full of moments where we had to chose between frustration and laughter. Whether it was trying to transport five people, five suitcases, three bags, a box of groceries, and a guitar in one taxi or walking three miles with the kids to the hospital for more asthma medication only to have our appointment rescheduled for six hours later. Or maybe the time we got settled in the booth for a nice American meal at Outback, only to have our eyes pop out of heads when the menu revealed the prices were nearly double what they are in the states. Oh, and not forgetting the time the automatic gate broke and it was raining and dark and we had to walk the entire perimeter of the village along the back alleys of Seoul. Yes, we are learning to rename disasters as “adventures,” but our greatest test yet came yesterday.
The buds are beginning to open on the cherry trees, and in Seoul that means city wide picnicking. So, we packed up a bag of sandwiches, fruit, dip, and water bottles and hopped on the subway for the Seoul Children’s Grand Park. (Which, by the way, is about the most amazing free attraction for families in Seoul!) We planned to spend the day at the free zoo, riding a few cheap rides, and picnicking, then watch the musical water show and ride the subway home. We pictured a day of family fun and Korean culture and the Park is defiantly a great place for that, but, well…. First we learned that one of our children gets claustrophobic in the tight packed Korean body crowds. He coped pretty well until he tried to curl up on the floor in the middle of the bird house. So we broke away from the crowd, lost two kids on the playground and eventually regrouped. When we caught our breath we realized we were in the middle of a series of beautiful water features: fountains, waterfalls, tranquil pools, all strung together over rocks and under bridges to form a man made stream. In that stream, with rolled-up pant legs and bare feet Korean children were wading. Coats (still needed in the windy 50 degree temperature,) were laid on the river bank, homemade boats floated down the current, older siblings helped younger ones keep their footing in the gentle flow- the more adventurous children were even climbing the low limbed trees that over hung the water. In short it was idyllic- a paradise of peace and play- or at least it was until three loud America children stampeded into the water in a cloud of splashes and shrieks. While every other child enjoyed the water quietly without even splashing their shirt sleeves, in a manner of minutes our three were completely soaked from fleece pullovers to sneaker-ed feet. (How did they even get their shoes wet when we had taken them off before they entered the water?) They had a few minutes of bliss racing up fountains and down waterfalls and ruining the tranquility of the peaceful ponds before the temperature suddenly froze them in their tracks. Then, there we were standing in the middle of Seoul Children’s Park in the middle of a crowd of silent, staring Koreans, with three dripping, freezing, crying children. (Dallas here insists I interject that he was only half soaked, and freezing and was not crying, so I guess you can change that to two freezing, dripping, crying children, and one who was just cold.) What could we do? We had at least an hour walking and riding the subway in order to get home and we were quickly realizing it was way too cold to make the kids suffer the consequences of their actions. We attracted actual pointing and staring from the Koreans with their kids in coats and hats as we carried our shivering, crying troop through the park in search of a restroom. There we split our forces and rung out the kids clothes. Alone in a bathroom stall holding my shaking, crying little girl, who was trying to form possible solutions between her blue lips- “Maybe Daddy could go home and get us clothes and we could wait here?”- I had a decision to make. Elliana was soaked, and it was getting colder, we had a long ride home, and I was wearing a cami and a cardigan, no extra jacket, what could I do? I took Elliana’s pants and dried them in the hand drier as best I could, then I wrapped her in my cardigan. The neck line was too low so I turned it around backwards, and used my earrings to hold it closed. I stuffed her wet clothes in the massively heavy picnic basket, that it was becoming apparent I had carried needlessly all day, I hoisted Elliana up and walked out of the stall- in my spaghetti strap camisole. Given the choice between my daughter’s health and my modestly what else could I do? Outside I found Kenny had similarly clothed our wet boy. So we walked out of the park: Kenny and Dallas followed by David, still crying and blue wearing his daddy’s pullover which reached his shins with the sleeves dragging shapelessly off the ends of his arms. Then me, wearing a cami, carrying a picnic bag, and a crying girl in red cardigan fastened with robin’s nest earrings. And if we thought people were staring before, well, you just have to picture a crowd of Asians in winter coats, parting like the red sea before the family of soaked, half naked Americans. Once we got to the subway I huddled in a corner, trying to hide behind Elliana, and warm up David at my side. Here we decided to do some clothing shuffling. David had mostly dried (or at least stopped dripping) under Kenny’s hoodie, so we decided to give the hoodie to Elliana and get me back my cardigan- and on a side note, if you are ever an America considering wearing a tank top in Korea, don’t! They can wear skirts that are only six inches long and its fine but let an American show her arms and the mothers will cover their kid’s eyes and turn them away in horror. So, we were in the middle of trying to shirt swap surreptitiously- I had Elliana half out of my cardigan and mostly into Kenny’s pullover- when a random Korean man decided Kenny would be a good place to practice his English. “Hi! What your country?” Umm… how do you say we’re Americans and would you excuse us while my wife gets dressed in the subway? Then another friendly Korean sat down next to David. Seriously, we ride in ignored silence every other time but when we are wet, naked, and miserable, everybody wants to be our friend. This Korean actually put his arm around David and started taking pictures of him and talking about how cute and friendly he was… until he felt the wetness from David’s still soaked cargo pants soaking through his own jean leg. Then delight turned to horrified confusion and we had no idea how to tell him it was water not pee. Eventually we got home, and got baths and hot soup and bed, and our day of family fun and Korean culture was behind us. That’s when Kenny and I sat down on the couch and cracked up. I will never forget my Hester Prine walk through Seoul Children’s Park, or Elliana shivering in her designer outfit, or David wetting on a man on the subway. We all have those experiences that we know we will laugh about later, but to really enjoy your time in Seoul you have to learn to laugh about them as they are happening. My dad was right, you need a great sense of humor- and possibly the Korean words for “water, not pee.”

Seoul Children’s Grand Park

The Musical Fountain

Part of the Wading Creek

The Moment Before Disaster Struck

Comfort Idols

My associate pastor, Tim Gwin, once taught a Sunday school class on idolatry.  He said that you know you worship something when you are cut off from it and can no longer be happy or satisfied.  He also said that an idol is anything you look to for your self worth other than Christ.  We are currently living without most of our worldly possessions, in a country where we know no one, without a church home, and I am convicted.  When I think about all the things I miss: cooking, talking to friends, painting, taking care of the house, our activities at church, I am aware that I might as well be listing my idols.  I am proud that I cook homemade meals for my family.  I feel a mite superior when the house is tidy and organized.  Even my friends and activities at church (while essential towards my growth in righteousness,) can be used by my twisted heart as an easier path to comfort or happiness.  Now, separated from all these things, I find myself discontent, dissatisfied, missing out on chances to enjoy my children or my husband because I want the things that make my life more comfortable.  I want my comfort idols!  I say the joy of the Lord is my strength and that I rejoice in the Lord but this time is showing me that in practice I actually use a lot of other things to make myself feel good and I call it rejoicing in the Lord.  Really I am rejoicing in the things the Lord has given me, which is fine, until I become so dependent on them that I can’t serve Him without them.  I see now that all the times I let myself become moody or overwhelmed what I am really saying to God is “I can’t enjoy You until You make this other thing the way I like it!”   I am not glad that I still haven’t figured out international grocery shopping, or that it has been nearly two months since my last social encounter, and certainly not that we are currently without a church home, but I am delighted and honored that when I wake up tomorrow I will be complete, and whole, and content, solely because Christ is with me and I know He has a plan for me.  I am hopeful that the next time disappointment and discouragement strike I will be quicker to fall into Christ and less emotionally ruled by my circumstances.  I’m honored that the Holy Spirit is teaching me what it really means to need Christ alone.

The verse I picked for Elliana when she was born in Philipians 4:4-8 ‘Rejoice in the Lord always, and again I say rejoice,” it begins and then it goes on to describe the various ways you should control your thoughts so that you can achieve this constant joy in the Lord. 

I hope as a daughter of God she learns to discipline her heart to find joy above all in her Savior. I hope she learns the lessons God is teaching me now.

 

Venturing Out

 

Crossing the bridge from one side of post to the other. See Seoul Tower in the back ground?

This week we began to explore! We are still living in the beautiful Dragon Hill Lodge. After nine days here we are calling Elliana the Korean Eloise after the books about the little girl who lives in the Plaza Hotel in New York. The children have learned to take turns pushing the elevator buttons, about tipping waiters, and that it is not OK to play merry-go-round with the revolving door. We have become friends with the ajumma that cleans our room each afternoon. She made my day Friday when she gestured around the room at my kids and said “happy family.” That meant a lot after nine days of uninterrupted family togetherness. Every afternoon this week we headed out exploring. To get around we ride the post buses. It took me several days to figure out the on post bus system, which has four lines, involves a lot of math in public and uses military time. The kids have decided that the very back of the bus is the coolest because it sits up higher than the other seats. I discovered it is not a good idea to let them sit there when we are on our way back from the grocery store. (Sorry to all the poor soldiers sitting on the aisle who got whacked in the knees with grocery bags!)

The Commissary has kids sized shopping carts- but beware they are so, so, so loud. Even the kids said we sounded like a stampeded of elephants, heading through the store, except Elliana’s, her’s squeaked like a mouse (which explained the elephant stampede.)

We found two parks, the put-put golf course, the bowling alley, the PX and the commissary. Then, on Friday we were finally ready to venture off post. We rode the bus to the gate, got stuck in the computer monitored gate and then, after nine days in Korean we finally set foot on Korean soil. We ventured forth boldly into uncharted territory, and then about 100 yards off post found an awesome park and had to stop.

This thing has constellations punched in the sides so you can stick your head in and star gaze

That day we also learned how to cross the street in Seoul. See, they don’t have many sidewalks over their major roads. Instead they have subterranean pedestrian pathways. So, to get across the street you enter the subway, walk along and exit where you want. For us it was like playing whack a mole from the mole’s perspective. We went into the subway knowing where we were headed but were never sure where we would pop up.

Saturday Kenny was off so we went as a family to I’Park mall, one of Seoul’s tourist attractions. The reason we went was not a love of malls but simply because the kids and I had figured out how to get there on our Friday explore. There we learned that malls in Korea are about as attractive to us as malls in America. Also, that Korean malls are laid out like a three dimensional puzzle and have no benches for resting. Instead of floor by floor maps, their directory is arranged by product and they have huge seven story department stores that are impossible to escape. We visited E-mart then spent three hours looking for the children’s play area. We found it next to a sign that read 15,000 w admission. That’s $15 a kid, $45 for our family. So, we settled for ice cream and walked back to the park.

We are all really enjoying the simplicity of this time sequestered as a family. I am being spoiled by the lack of cooking and housework, and Kenny is enjoying all the free time for the family. It’s fun to take a break from everything and be able to enjoy family without distractions. Kenny taught the kids how to make lightning with spearmint life savers (the whole family in the bathroom with the lights off crunching enthusiastically.) Dallas built a spa and insists I get my hair brushed every evening. A few nights ago he and his assistants even washed my feet and walked on my back. I told you I am being spoiled! Last night was family night so for something special we let Elliana chose and run the activities. She and I went to the hotel basement and ordered pizza, bought popcorn, and rented a movie, and then we all snuggled up on the couch for Brave, pizza, popcorn and pocky. I hope we are making memories and tying strings between our family members that will last into the future.

The kids spend a lot of time drawing on the coffee table in our hotel room

Welcome to Korea

I am sitting at a desk in our hotel suite looking out at a three panel long panorama of Seoul, South Korea. The view is wide, but shallow, because the ever present, opaque, grey fog only allows me to see Young Son Garrison, spread out nine stories below me and the very first line of Seoul’s sky scrapers. The rest of the city and the craggy layers of mountains beyond are still hidden- like the sunrise. Here the sun’s entrance is just a humble blush in the fog. As the day progresses the fog will retreat, unveiling more of the city, but it hangs in the sky all day long.

We arrived in Korea two nights ago. The flight that brought us here was about 15 hours long. The boys set a family record by playing ten hours straight of video games. Elliana and I tried BeeBimBop with pickled cucumbers and sea weed soup. Everyone got a little sleep. By the time we landed Elliana could say hello and thank you in Korean and had decided to become a flight attendant when she grows up. The army kept us waiting about five hours between the time we landed and the time we reached a hotel, but it really flew by. Once we traversed the baggage claim and customs I took the kids to a Korean snack shop where I saw ice creams and snacks I remembered as a kid (Will and Kaitlyn, pictures to follow.) Then the kids made friends with another newly arrived army family whose boys were about Dallas’ age. Five over stimulated kids was a bit crazy in the airport and on busses and while were trying to carry bags, but the kids had fun. We are staying in Dragon Hill Lodge, the garrison hotel for military personnel. I used to visit this hotel when I was a kid. I remember the stone lion-dragons outside the front door, a panel of rock carving depicting Korean history, the waterfall in the garden, and the ceiling and fans of the hotel restaurant (funny the things you retrain as a child.) Now, though, the hotel also has a huge children’s area with traditional children’s garden and playground, and the hotel restaurant has been changed into a food court with about five restaurants. There is also a market wing where you can buy everything from souvenirs to a car. Yesterday, our first full day in Korea, the children were up at five, thanks to jet leg. We ate pop tarts from the in PX exchange in the lobby and did school all morning. After lunch with Kenny we went to the hotel pool for nearly three hours. The kids seemed to be doing great but when we sat down for dinner jet leg hit. David literally fell asleep waiting for his food and almost tumbled out of his chair. Elliana ate then climbed in my lap and fell asleep faster than I have every seen anyone. Even I ended up passed out on the couch before 8 pm and then we were all up bright and early at 6:30. So, we are not quite adjusted yet but the kids remain up beat and that makes all the difference. I have learned that our trio doesn’t get whiny when they are tired, rather they become extremely hyper, and lose all judgment. This has resulted in some interesting situations, such as when Dallas attempted to pick up a Korean woman thinking she was one of our suitcases, or when David nearly lost his hand playing “Elf” in the revolving door. Understanding that it is their way of expressing the grogginess Kenny and I both feel we have left off lectures (and in fact feel sort of bad about them,) and are making sure the kids get plenty of attention. It was amazing the difference in their ability to think after just half an hour of our undivided attention. I am sure there must be some principle in child psychology there but I am just glad to know what I need to do. There are other things which require an adjustment period, besides just the time. Korea smells- I can’t say bad because I am sure it smells just fine to a Korea, but it is going to take some getting used to. Also, the food, whether Korean, or American made by Koreans, just doesn’t taste like anything we are used to. For example, lasts night’s bean burrito contained boiled potatoes and plain pulled pork. It was weird. Thankfully, a banana still tastes like a banana so we are stocking up on fruit and veggies. Even the cartoons here are weird- the kids just spent the past hour watching a show about flatulent bugs- no really! Exploring a new culture is so much fun and I can’t wait to get off post and explore Seoul! Kenny is restricted to government property until he finishes in processing on Monday, so, we will use the weekend to adjust and then dive in to our new country!

Elliana watched “Hotel Transylvania” three times

ALL the boys play video games

Amy and Elliana sleep on the flight

The Hotel Pool

Please shower before swimming.

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My Valentine

I have been wanting to start back up on my blog after a year long hiatus, but it occurs to me that some transition might be needed between my last post on God’s gift of singleness and my current thoughts which center largely around my beloved husband.   And really, who doesn’t love to talk about their love story?  So, for those who don’t know, or just love to hear how our precious Father has blessed me, here is the story of how I fell in love.

When the man I married far too young left just before Christmas 2007 I asked God that I would not meet anyone else until I had learned to be completely satisfied in Him.  I pictured the process like flying in one of my dad’s planes- a little effort and struggle as you climb but eventually you break through the clouds and dwell in the sunlight, then wherever life leads from there you are able to carry with you the merit badge of complete satisfaction in Christ.   So, I put in effort and struggled- for years.  But while I knew God was pleased by my efforts, I was distressed to find how often my steps were carrying me in completely the wrong direction.  I felt less like a plane ascending to the heavens then like a hiker lost on a mountainside simply hoping that his steps are carrying him closer to the pinnacle and not back down the slope.  In these past four years I have learned an important lesson: satisfaction in Christ is not a mile marker to be reached on the Christian walk, rather it is the sun that shines down on us as we walk.  Some days are full of sun and radiate with God’s glory, other days we walk in shade born either of the forests we wander into or rainstorms God knows we need in order to grow.  Either way our satisfaction in Christ is not an accomplishment we can carry with us, rather it is a decision we are constantly making as life changes.  As this revelation dawned on me I had to face a new question- if complete satisfaction in Christ is a lifetime journey, had I just commited myself to a lifetime of singleness and, if so, was that a price I was willing to pay?   At 25 years old a life of singleness seemed hard to swallow, but in time I found my answer and wrote it down for all the world to read- I would delight in singleness and wear my baptism as my wedding vow my only love the Lover of my Soul- and God smiled…

I first met Kenny at my Friday night small group early in the fall of 2011.  I walked in with all my kids and chaos half an hour late, as always, and was surprised to see a random guy sitting across the table.  But rather than love at first sight I added together single dad+ two kids in a different state+ career army+ lives with a roommate and got definitely not the One, even if God was intending to give me a One.  And as for Kenny- he thought I was the babysitter and wondered whose really cute kids I had with me.  Not exactly love at first sight.  We studied together in that small group Bible study for months, both wondering what God had planned for our individual futures and divinely blinded to the answer that was often laughing across the table.  Then, in the coldest week of fall our small group decided to go on a camping trip.  My favorite place to be in love with God is in his creation, for “nature is but a name for an effect whose cause is God.”  So, that night by the campfire as I held my sleepy daughter and watched the smoke fade to night sky and the sparks mix with the stars I felt that, despite the presence of others, it was a special time between just God and me.  Then without prevarication, a voice broke into my moment of private worship.  It was Kenny, and he was singing a praise song.  I had the uncanny feeling that he has somehow heard what I was thinking and was speaking my worship aloud.  He played his guitar and lead the entire group in worship while the kids slowly fell asleep on various laps.  I watched him out of the corner of my eyes all the next day.   Besides his fearless heart of worship I saw a compassion for children which I realized all the children had already recognized as they ran to him and climbed on him and let him carry them when their feet got tired on our hike.  Then again, he stole the words right out of my heart when he pointed out the beauty of God’s creation to the children as mist rose off the lake during breakfast and I wondered, was it possible he saw God in the same places I did?   A confusing few months followed.  I found it impossible to believe that God could be allowing me to care for someone when I had just decided I was content in singleness and furthermore was Kenny even interested?  No one else had been- for more than four years!  Then one night in early December we started talking just the two of us.  Technically it wasn’t talking, it was messaging, which made me feel like a middle school student, but also a little safer because I could hide behind my computer screen and think before typing my responses.   Our conversations were light hearted and fun but then somehow we ended up sharing all the important things about his past and mine and honest things that we would never have said to each other in person.  Often I had to cover my face lest my laughter wake my kids sleeping down the hall.  Other times I would wait with my fingers hovering over this very keyboard watching the “typing” indication flashing on and off while he formed his response.  It was terrifying and new to be talking to a man at all.  In the four years after my husband left I had not so much as a flirtation, and now it was two am and I was laughing with Kenny over a photo featuring both of us- terrifying.  Then one night as I was signing off he stopped me: “I have been thinking about you a lot lately.  I’m not sure what to do about it but I wanted you to know.”  I think I stopped breathing while I tried to figure out what to say.  “Well, I don’t mind being on your mind if you don’t mind.”  Dorky answer.  Terrified girl.  What if this was me running away from God’s will for me?  What if talking to Kenny that first time was taking my life into my own hands rather than waiting for God?  After all, it was me that first pushed that message button.  Scared I shared all with my family, letting my mom and sister read every text message when our conversation moved from the computer to the phone and answering my dad’s nervous questions thinly veiled in humor.  I finally got up the nerve to actually talk to Kenny on the phone rather than texting him when he was driving through Mississippi on his way home from visiting his kids and then, on January 2^nd we went to dinner.  I had to remind myself over and over “just be yourself, you don’t want anyone to like you for something that isn’t really you.”  It was the most unusual first date ever.  We were both honest about our excitement and nerves “I can’t wait to see you.”  “Do I have to dress up?”  “I am so nervous.”  “Is this going to be awkward?”  Then he showed up and we were off.  I could hardly breathe for most of the date.  Every brush of our arms as we walked side by side, the excuse he found to hold my hand across the table, but I was so nervous I giggled and took my hand back.  Anyone watching us would have laughed at us and we sort of knew it.  That night felt like falling and it was terrifying, but it also felt like coming home.   In the 13 months since that first date I have had a sweet word to fall asleep or wake to every day.  I have ended most of my hardest days on his shoulder or with his fingers in my hair.  I have fallen in love with riding motorcycles and floating around in a jon boat.  I have read my Bible and prayed more.  I have learned to trust God’s forgiveness like I never could before.  I have learned three chords on the guitar I bought in high school and let someone else hear me singing along with the radio.  Every day brings a new blessing, some of them small, some of them undeniably miraculous.  Kenny said it best; this is “a gift of grace,” a gift of grace from my gracious Father.