'Teaching' - first week

Folks are asking how it's going. All is well, but it's not quite 'going' yet. I have been given the opportunity to prep for class and observe this first week of school. This has meant hours (perhaps too many - perfectionism strikes again) of making PowerPoint presentations and brainstorming for activities. (Sitting in the corner of the classroom, which has itself pricked some of the students' curiosity.) So I am still nervous. If there is no class discussion, we may end up sitting around looking at each other for half the class. There a couple of gals in the class that I may be able to count on for relevant input, and I realize that I have friends and family that are confident in my ability to carry a discussion all by myself, but it will largely depend on the atmosphere in the classroom.

The night before

student teaching.
Tomorrow is my first day teaching. I feel I am more nervous than I would like to be, but I don't know how else anyone would feel about being nervous. It is common for student teachers to adopt one of the cooperating teacher's courses for the duration of the quarter. I will be teaching an Interior Design course for the time that I am at Boyceville. (3rd quarter) I took the primary course related to interior design the first semester that I was at Stout. My learning curve during the course of the class was evident. But the designing that has been done in my corner of the basement isn't so evident. I think I am going to have to provide more information than 'hang some pictures and get some plants'. (regardless of the fact that the walls aren't finished)

The course outline is built on defining Interior Design as a 'Functional Form of Art'. I can then use the definition as an outline - going from structural, to design, and topping with expression. I think I may need more than the five slides that I have ready for tomorrow. Every time I start thinking of interior design this is the picture that comes to mind:












During the celebration that we attended in the Masaai village, we were invited into this family's home to 'see what it was like'. It was gracious of this woman to allow us to come into her home when she knew that we were primarily curious. We couldn't see while we were in there. Most of my own understanding of the space has come from these flash photos. There was a smoldering fire in the center of the room and it was (to me) oppressively smokey. Like all the people that we took pictures of while we were in the village, she did ask that we would send her a copy of the photo.
I learned something about hospitality during the time in Tanzania. I don't know how many Americans would open their home to foreigners to allow them some gauk time. I also found myself questioning the excess of all that I have. I don't think I've been called to take a vow of poverty in the sense of abandoning a position (or potential position/job) in this society by abandoning the capacity to maintain it, but I also don't think I need as much as I've accumulated.

Whoa! That's Quite the Update!

This is a posted copy of my 2006/beg 2007 newsletter.

Greetings from my corner of half of the basement!

This June, Grandpa took five granddaughters (Sheryl (my sister), Amanda (Bobbie/Matt’s), Caitlin (Paul/Laurie’s), and Sarah (Marilyn/Pete’s) to Tanzania for three weeks. My time was extended by about a week to complete some observation/interaction time for one of my courses at the International School – so I was there a tad over a month. The question resounding in my ears since then has been ‘How was the trip?’ The answer, ‘Amazing’ hardly covers the experience. ‘Remarkable’ may leave enough open for interpretation and more information, but ultimately there is still no simple answer to the question. The experience was exhilarating and exhausting; relaxing and adventuresome; inspiring and heart breaking. There were moments of great joy and great fear. There were times we got on one another’s nerves and we continue to thank God for the gift of our family, each other, and the time that we all spent with one another. The world shrank and grew at the same time. The doorway was opened to the ability to consider, dream, and love on a global level. We have been challenged to consider America’s influences on the global market and culture. We witnessed the influences of Western society while marveling at the vast differences between the worlds of the peoples that we met and spent time with.

Will I be going back? Hopefully, or at least ‘going’. My future is planned as far as graduation and after that I have only rough ideas as to where I will find myself. I do know that this trip and the brief exposure to a fraction of the global community coupled with ongoing contacts with missionaries and family abroad would play a role in the shaping of my teaching philosophy and focus.

The trip, after the rest of my family arrived, was divided into four 4-day trips. From our home base with family, we went on a Dorobo safari, to the beach at Pangani, back to portions of Grandpa/ma’s mission fields, and into Maasailand. Each of these short trips stood out in stark contrast to the others in regards to the things that we saw, the people that we were with, meals that we had, and the activities we did. The unifying factor throughout the trips was the time that we spent together. The vast majority of this time was considered quality and good time, while some moments were just considered a bit close. An 85-year-old mzungu (who speaks Swahili) and his five granddaughters stand out a bit in Tanzania. We met scores of people, learned what tribes they were from and what families they had. Scores of people met us and they (and we) learned which of us are ‘binti’ (single – Amanda, Sarah, Caitlin, and me) as opposed to bibi (mothers - Sheryl).

I am attempting to conjure up the paragraphs that would encompass all that has been ‘news-worthy’ over these past two years. I was violently ill the spring of 2005 – with about 10 days encompassing final projects and exams that I was unable to get out of bed. I have come through the ordeal much more careful about getting enough sleep and heeding warning signs about stress levels. Throughout that summer I spent hours every day kayaking Tainter Lake healing and recovering (or something like that). Mid summer I took off to the apostle island area to go on a guided kayak tour over a ship wreck. It was a beautiful trip and solidified my personal desire to take off on a bit of an adventure once a year. As it turned out, the next summer I ran around London for an afternoon. (and did see a lot of pigeons)

Also the summer of 2005 Sheryl and Mark moved to Eau Claire from Albuquerque. They married August 13 and the next day I ripped off the end of a finger. It was torn from the outside edge of my middle finger up, crushing the bone – I left a miniscule strip that was apparently large enough to house enough nerve to someday again have feeling. All-in-all it was an eventful summer. The finger has healed although it will never look the same – it is a continual reminder that no one else pays overly too much attention to the length of my digits. At the beginning of this December, one of the 5-year-old girls in my Sunday School class did pray that God would help me not cut off my finger again – I wholeheartedly agreed with her. Sheryl and Mark’s launch into married life has been much less painful or disfiguring and we enjoy their general ‘nearness’ and frequent visits.

I did end up cutting back on my class load that semester as it would’ve been difficult to type and keep up without being able to type. The injury healed as an open wound and it was months before I could go without the bandages. I did have the bandages off by the time my mother cut off the end of the middle finger of her right hand. She did a much cleaner job of it and hers now looks normal. She, however may have severed both bilateral nerves that service the tip of the finger and she seems to have less sensation than I do. With her excellent nursing skills; the practice that she has at work and had on my wound, she healed without infection as well. As is evident – it has been a bonding experience for us to discuss and compare sensations and phantom pains and such.

The spring semester of 2006 was difficult. My class load was heavy and I had courses to finish carried over from the semester that I was ill. Shortly after the New Year the dream was hatched for the Tanzania trip with Grandpa. Added to the deadlines were visas, passports and itineraries. Grandpa phoned much of the foot work in these areas and then family in Tanzania provided the needed (and more) support from the Tanzania side of the Atlantic. The first of June I flew out for Tanzania, elated and terrified. But not scared enough to stay in Heathrow Airport and miss out on London. I met a group of people at the airport and several of us hopped a tour bus and saw as much of London as quickly as possible. (My photos of London are on a CD that refuses to cooperate, so if anyone knows how to reach the unreachable, let me know.)

Africa is half a world, and now (amazingly) half a year, away. My final semester of classes flew by and I am now reeling at the thought of being done with university classes. I feel at home in a classroom, which at least validates the idea of teaching. I will be student teaching this spring in Boyceville (Grandma Peterson’s hometown) and Bloomer and will then be done with the degree. Come July, the sky’s the limit – or rather the job opening is the limit. I will be graduating with a B.S. in Family Consumer Science Education with minors in Chemistry and English Literature. Contrary to what I had thought, this will not enable me to be a licensed teacher (in a public school in the US) in Chemistry (or Lit). What all this will mean for a job, I have no idea. I am reminded that the degree is meant to open doors, but at the moment am not even sure where to knock. Luckily I still have a semester of teaching to focus on. There are multitudes of opportunities to teach English abroad and I am strongly considering various options in this area. With increasing numbers of students graduating with significant student loans, organizations are becoming more obliging to work with those who are in debt.

Launching:

I had, for quite sometime, been typing up thoughts, observations and such (with photo enhancement) as a word file. With encouragement and a name from my Dad, this habit became my ‘blog’ (web log or journal, “Basement Blog”, in May of 2006. The frequency of ‘posts’ (entries) is indirectly proportional to impending deadlines, but I enjoy the outlet nonetheless. My existence is expressed in a wide variety of pursuits and passions, certainly not limited to this blog. There is much more to life than the loss of half a digit (with lots of pictures), the chemical balances of my fish tank (with fewer pictures) or the cricket hordes in the basement (no pictures – yet). When I returned from Tanzania I focused on organizing and printing the hundreds of pictures that I (and the girls) took while there, but I did not get many of them posted on the blog. I intend to ‘back-post’ and share some of the best.

I find myself reaching the end of one significant stage in my life -- my degree (finally) completed. I’ll resist the temptation to claim that I am standing at the edge of a precipice and wondering in which direction to leap, but my emotions are somewhere in that vicinity. I would covet your (continued) prayers concerning strength for the final stretch and clarity of direction for the next step. I have stated that my life and direction are my Lord’s and I would only ask for the presence of mind and heart to head in the direction of the door that is open.

With Love,

Kristi

orchids and Rorschach

Sheryl, Mark, and I went to the conservatory today. The company was delightfully invigorating. Conversing with the two of them challenges me to think.This is a rather small orchid. The background, as it often does, showed the physical structure of the greenhouse. I did a 'watercolor' effect on the picture with my photo image program. I would like to learn to paint someday, but right now it is only an expensive, time/space-consuming dream, so I'll make the computer do it.I think this reflection photo looks like the old Disney wolf is in it. I don't know what this says about my personality though. (The blue half moon to the right and low of center is his eye with his mouth going to the left and he's going to eat something.) The movement in the water is created by the curious koi mulling about near the surface. The black portions of the reflection are the beam structure in the sky roof.


I have leaned how to frame photos (click on 'photo frame') and have been enjoying the effect - boundaries can be a good thing.


"The artist doesn't see things as they are, but as he is." - Anonymous

Today I haven't seen myself as an artist, so I don't know where that leaves me.

Pene wears socks for school

but she doesn't like to.

Our final assignment for Secondary Reading was to write an instructional booklet for our students. My Family Consumer Science group chose to instruct on the topic of basic survival skills for the fledgling young adult. I got to write the laundry portion. I enjoy doing the laundry -- to the extent that Sheryl has not 'let me' do her laundry as it seems a bit too odd. I think it is magical that dirty clothes can be put into a machine, buttons pressed and then largely ignored until CLEAN! (I say largely ignored because we have a front loading washer with a window in the door - Rainman knew what he was talking about.)
The first step of my laundry instruction booklet was to 'Find Clothes'. I think that any school assignment that allows you to throw your laundry about the house and then take pictures of it is a pretty fun assignment. The picture of Pene wearing my socks was a part of this 'Find Clothes' step. She looks about as happy as she was about the entire process.
The only possible secret in laundry is the sorting process. So I guess there isn't much magic in that. I realize knowledge is supposed to sap the wonder, but it remains wonderful to me.


Grades are in and are good. I had completely blanked on my Quantitative Analysis midterm, but did well on the final. Environmental Chemistry did answer my questions about the fish tank. Simply stated, the introduction of the oxygen with the underground filtration oxidizes the nitrites to less-nasty-for-the-fishes nitrates. Waste-water treatment plants have a similar step in their processes. I thoroughly enjoyed my environmental chemistry course. The direct application of the science was precisely how my head wants to think and anytime you can learn how to save a few fishes it's gotta be a good thing.

My next step is the direct application of my teaching skills. I enjoy teaching, but I am sure that I will have much to learn about the real-life application of planning, structure, and classroom management. I am thankful that I have been teaching my Sunday school class each week, but somehow doubt if classroom management of 4-year-olds will be the same as high school. At least the four-year-olds are smaller than me - standing up goes a long way.

After graduation - I don't know where I go. I am not the type of person who plans well (I am actually quite uncomfortable with set, long-term, binding plans). I hope to head toward an open door rather than a closed one.

mouse boogers and humble pigs

This is my Birthday card from Sheryl, Mark, Brook and Guinness:

We laughed out loud.

It has been a wonderful birthday. My canker sore is finally healing. I got to wear my favorite socks. My cross stitch bird looks like a bird. (kinda) I got to watch Charlotte's Web with Sheryl, Mark and Brook and to be with Brook a little more before she flies home. I went to Michael's craft store and didn't spend a lot of money. But I did get 2 calendars for $.50 a piece - there are lots of things I can do with calendars... I have bookmarks for each of the books that I have started and not finished! - this way I at least do not have to reread what I had started, so some time is not wasted. I got to start listening to Bill Bryson's A Brief History of Nearly Everything, which, it turns out, is 'my kind of book'. - full of fun facts and party trivia. (I'm not sure why I don't party much...)

The night before last I developed a bit of a life plan (it bein' the new year and all) for the next three years. (I graduate this spring - attention deficit or not) This plan is certainly not set in stone, but is productive and will be good for helping me to get to wherever it is that I am going. I can only hope that when I get to where I'm going, there are days like today.


"Space curves in a way that allows it to be boundless but finite. Space cannot even properly be said to be expanding because as the physicist and Nobel laureate Steven Weinberg notes, "solar systems and galaxies are not expanding, and space itself is not expanding." Rather the galaxies are rushing apart. It is all something of a challenge to intuition." p 17 A Short History

I suppose something a akin to the pool balls rushing apart but the table is not expanding - except there is no 'table' because without the boundaries that are defined by the playing surface for the balls - there simply is no table - or universe - or galaxies - beyond where the expansion has already occurred. As a science dives further into itself, the trinity is not so strange sounding. It seems that we will be able to 'prove' the other dimensions more sooner than later - then what are we to do with the possibilities of life within our own planet? Perhaps heaven is a place on earth.

be thou my vision

Obviously this photo isn't as recent as today or even yesterday, but it is on my mind this evening - or often times even.
Last Wednesday evening we celebrated Grandma and Grandpa Peterson's 60th wedding anniversary. This photo was the wallpaper on my computer and was therefore sitting on the screen as we waited to know what was happening before the slide show started. Grandpa read the verse and (although I interrupted because it was just my wallpaper and not a planned part of the presentation) his reading it added truth to the sentiment. He and my grandmother have given their lives for the inheritance of and in heaven. This verse from 'Be Thou My Vision' sums up all that I hope for and long to embody more truly. I can think of all that I 'have' - all the material possessions and even relationships, that, in truth - have me. I am realizing that before I can even think of leaving here - the house, the state, the country - I have so much stuff that I need to sort through. I have rationalized not flat out getting rid of everything in the facts that I will probably continue to teach in some capacity and there is no sense in getting rid of one project to replace it (and thereby pay for) with another one.
Tonight's thoughts on 'Be Thou My Vision' revolve around the layers of meaning within the phrase. The fact that God is our vision - that which we see the world by and through as well as our vision - that which is revealed before us, often inspiring. Existing simultaneously in both capacities God is our present and our future; our life and functioning as well as our capacity and potential.
There are the similar layers in the verse "Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart." (Psalm 37: 5-7) Having known beautifully faithful Christians who have for decades prayed for prodigal children I don't always like this verse. I am sure there are prodigal children who go to meet their maker with their parents never knowing the state of their relationship in Christ. For me, this verse is one that is answered on more layers than granting my wishes. I have also heard many people say that if prayers are unanswered the fault is mine in the fact that I must not be delighting myself in God, doing good, or committing myself to him fully enough. I think that God is more often unknown to me than He makes His blessings contingent on the level of my good doings.
The layers in this verse revolve around the phrase 'give me the desires of my heart'. It is the human capacity to desire, to hope that separates from the rest of creation. It may be that this is part of the attributes of humans that we are created in the image of God. He also hopes and desires. So God gave us the desires of our heart in our very capacity to desire anything. So why then would we be created to desire things that will never come to pass? Because in this we share in the heartbreak of our creator. In this fact we share the pain of people who can and will refuse Christ's sacrifice and go on to live separated from God.
Most commonly I am told that as we grow close to God He places within our hearts His desires. I think this is certainly true - but I do not think that simply because our desires are placed there by God that these wishes will come true. It seems that millions of God's own desires have gone ungranted in the joining of 'He wills that none would perish' and 'the wages of sin is death'. So either He doesn't will that none would perish or hell isn't real.

(The photo was taken from the new deck on October 2 in the golden light of sun setting - the next day the leaves were past prime)

good ol' boys and the horrors of Thanksgiving

I am privileged to the be the teacher for the 4-yr-old Sunday School class at church. Four-year-olds have a deserved reputation for chasing rabbits. (and cats, and puppies and parrots when available). In attempts to bond with my class and make the entire experience one that is relevant to their lives we talk about their lives, their concerns and we pray for the things that they bring up. We often talk about pets because I have figured that it is a topic that I can ask them about and the answers will be in 'safe' territory. We have prayed for Gracie's cat, who has had to adjust to a new type of food when the store stopped carrying the kind that it was used to. I have been assured that the cat, apparently a very old cat, has adjusted well to this unexpected change in diet. Not to be upstaged by a distressed cat, Andrew announced that his dog 'got dead'. It has apparently been a bit a while since the vehicular demise of the dog, but a traumatic retelling all the same. (and an excellent opportunity to reiterate the importance of not crossing the road without adults, so that we stay safe and do not 'get dead' like the dog). During singing time with the nursery group, each week Paula asks the children to sit quietly and raise their hands to request a song. They are very good about requesting songs that we know and have sung in this singing time on previous Sundays. They persistently ask to sing 'Twinkle, Twinkle Star, and we have gently asked for song requests that pertain to Jesus or God. (We have since, due to their persistence, decided that emphasizing that it is God who made the stars is sufficient for Twinkle, Twinkle.) Andrew rendered all the adults in the room unable to respond without laughing when he stated he would like to sing the 'Dukes of Hazard' song. I suppose Jesus could've been a 'good ol' boy' and he was in trouble with the law from the day he was born... One of my initial introductions to small town Wisconsin life was sitting at a table and listening to three 'good ol' boys' quote the lyrics of the 'Dukes of Hazard' song -- spoken, without the tune. The moment was a bit of an epiphany and the light bulbs in my head each blinked 'We're not in Kansas anymore'.
This week we made Thanksgiving turkeys from hand cut-outs and foot cut-outs. Dorian brought hers to her dad and he asked why her turkey was so sad. She laughed as she said, "Because he doesn't want to get shot."
Last week, during the same singing time the kids were asked what their lesson was on. They responded that Jesus had made a 'drink'. Paula, patiently probing them for greater retention asked what drink. (I had not emphasized what drink since the painting in our story book depicted a rollicking crowd, that looked to me, quite inebriated.) The kids did not miss the question though, annunciated 'Kool-Aid!' -- to their delight and my embarassment. To their credit, this had been the prop in the class. I told them that Jesus didn't have to use powder and sugar to make the drink. They said is was because he had powers because he was God and I think that was the truth of the matter and the alcohol content was beside the point.
Life, for me, is in the little things -- the side shoots and tangents; pet concerns and the availablity of kool-aid. Obviously in God's requests for us to pray without ceasing, He takes an interest in these little things as well.

without a coat

Today, walking to class at ten of eight in the morning, I thought, 'I don't need my coat'. It is quite confusing to not need my light jacket on the eighth of November.
I have spent the last 3+ weeks reading books and texts, listening to audiobooks and lectures, and watching documentaries about global warming. I haven't gotten through the books and arguments written by the 'so-called skeptics'. After tiring myself out with facts, figures, arguments, opinions, and the varied lenses to read the same data - I have decided that if the dire predictions about global warming, the direct relationship to carbon dioxide emissions, and the anthropogenic sources and influences on it all are correct -- there is nothing we can do about it.
and in this cynical state of mind, I will simply enjoy my day without a need for a jacket.

tired like an onion

Layers of fatigue go in layers like onions. The outermost layer gets tired and is rejuvenated with a good night sleep. As the fatigue sinks further and further through the layers it doesn't seem to matter how many 'good night sleep's I get -- I'm still tired - increasingly so. I don't mind always having something to do, it's the always-having-something-to-do-under-pressure that is getting to me.

we bear what we must

The resilience of the human spirit and will are remarkable to say the least. Ask anyone who has survived hell how they did it and they will always say 'One day at a time'. (Sometimes mixed with support, God, counseling, or drugs) If then, we survive what we must, I wonder if it all begins to crack up when there is an inkling that the 'must' is not as imperative as we had thought. Contrariwise, I wonder if life has become so comfortable that the 'must' has lolled off altogether. This summer's drought prohibited the sunflowers around the bird feeder from coming up until about a month ago. They have just started to open and despite their small size are still quite pretty. They seem to stand in brave defiance of the imminent fall and ensuing winter. Wisconsin has its own 'must' built into the seasons and surviving the inevitable. But I do suppose a person could say that all of life is surviving the inevitable.

LCD

Yesterday a friend of mine said that her manager at work had stated that 'There was not one person at work that she could have an intelligent conversation with'. My friend had found this offensive, and rightly so. Today while I painted at my own place of employment I thought of something my mom had said to me in high school. I had come home stating that everyone hated me and I didn't get along with anyone at school. Rather than telling me to go eat worms, my mom said that it probably wasn't everyone's problem. (I was then certain that mom could join the club. ) She stated simply that in situations that one person is having a problem with everyone else, the responsibility for the situation probably lies with the one person and not with the masses. I thought of not being able to have any intelligent conversations at work. I, for one, have had delightfully intelligent conversations with Penelope Lane. At least half of the discourse is downright brilliant. (At least in my humble opinion - she is a bright little thing.) So perhaps before stating that there are not intelligent conversations to be had it may be best to first consider the common denominator.

concerning road kill

When I saw this deer along the road this morning, I thought 'That deer looks burnt'. When I drove past it coming home this evening, I thought 'It really does look burnt - how odd.'
So now I'm sure about it, but I think there are more questions than answers.

curiouser and curiouser

death in the basement

I began this post the 6th of September, (It is now the 6th of Ocotber - the blog's date is the date is was begun, not posted) Bimquist died the night/morning of the 5th/6th. Since then, school has begun in full force and I have had little time to type more than my notes. I have also not had time to 'grieve'. I couldn't grieve for a mouse in the way the word denotes the emotion, but there is a loss. Something that I was taking care of is dead, and there was nothing I could do about it - and I tried. His eyes had opened a day or two before he died. I was so proud of him. I don't suppose it makes sense to be proud of something that happens naturally, but I was proud nonetheless.
About two weeks into the semester, we had an assignment in Secondary Reading class to tell the class of a mistake we had made or a time that we had gotten into trouble. I sat and tried to think of times I had gotten into trouble and nothing came to mind. I tried to think of mistakes, and nothing came to mind that I could tell my class. Then Sheryl mentioned Bimquist and the hole under the bathroom cabinet. So I told my class of my long history of rescuing. I knew that there were ways that this instinct has encouraged me to make decisions in life that have had devastating consequences, but I also knew that I could not share this with 30 strangers. I began the story with our squirrel Nutkin. While we all still lived in the cabin in WeirWood, Dad brought home a squirrel that he had found walking along the driveway at work. It was in sad shape and it certainly needed a mom - we knew that ours would do it wonders. And wonders she did. During the day she monitored the goings-on of a four-year-old and a two-year-old while feeding a sickly, orphaned squirrel. Our squirrel Nutkin thrived and, still a juvenile, moved to town with us. He matured at the new mansion of a house and began to live outside. He still came in for treats and attentions, but he was getting less and less domesticated. We would see him in the yard and offer him food. He began to bite us as he took the food and (wisely) we offered it to him less often. We were certain that he was doing well and saw him about the yard often.
One day on the bus to swimming lessons, the neighbor girls came unto the bus singing 'We shot your squirrel, we shot your squirrel.' I don't remember how we got the whole story, but they, essentially, had. One of them had been trying to feed him and had been bitten. Concerned, another neighbor had shot our Nutkin. We learned from this, not that we shouldn't rescue animals, but that we should wean them into the wild - safely away from people.

For my class, I then told of the guinea pigs adopted from the petting zoo. I don't think that they actually needed to be rescued, but I am certain that I did not need to have them. Both of them were 'wild hair' guinea pigs - one had two colors and one had three. They were named Beely (Mbili) and Tatu respectively. I was violently allergic to them, only less than Sheryl was - who could not step into the basement. When the guinea pigs came to the basement, there were in residence: two cocktiels, one rabbit, two fish tanks, a dog and me. The menagerie was a bit overwhelming and my allergies took a turn for the worse. Apparently I was not the only one being affected by the mix of animals in the basement. The guinea pigs both became ill from a bacteria that I believe they may have gotten from the rabbit. I hadn't believed that a guinea pig could express pain until I was with those two piggies through their deaths. Thankfully, their final hours were just that - hours, not days. I had class right after Beely died and we always started class saying a little about ourselves- if the day was great or horrid. I had come from holding my dying guinea pig to class and didn't make it though my statement of how I was doing. I felt ridiculous for crying about a guinea pig in front of my class. But I suppose being real with each other on some level was the point of starting the day that way. I also knew that Tatu was sick and there would be nothing I could do for him. I tried though. I blended vegetables and feed him with a syringe. I hoped if I could keep him hydrated he would stay alive long enough to beat the bug he had.

After the story of the guinea pig I told of Bimquist and his hopping and his escape under the bathroom counter. Finally I told of his untimely death.

The instructor for the class tied my retelling of our pets' death to the lesson that I wished to portray by saying specifically we cannot always rescue - nor are we 'called' to. As teachers there will be students that we may want to rescue. Families that we want to rescue. Rescuing is not the calling. Rescuing so often times means trouble for all parties and in the worst cases, death to one and possibly hurt to the rescuer as well. I think my rescuer tendencies go hand-in-hand with my inability to hurt someone - at least to their face. This lack of assertiveness tends to wreck havoc on my boundaries and has made for some situations, that had the hurt been dealt with and dealt out early on, the resulting pain and suffering would have been far less.
(Digston did not die in an untimely manner, he lived to a ripe, old (unknown) age after his borrowed time given him by our cutting his teeth for him. - it did make more sense than getting him braces.)

controlled 'pest', more effort

The mouse, Bimquist Greystone, has been living with us for 3 days now. Yesterday I brought home kitten formula for him which was supposed to help with the diarrhea that had started Friday afternoon. When I took him out and set him on the bathroom rug to feed him the new formula he ran under the sink counter cabinet. There is no access to 'under the bathroom counter', there also is no exit. As his tail disappeared beneath the 1/2 inch gap, I thought 'You've got to be kidding' and 'Hey, you move pretty well' simultaneously. My pride in his demonstrated vigor evaporated as I ran to get something to sweep under the gap. I could not swipe him out with a dowel, carpenter ruler or yard stick. I was concerned that blindly poking at him with sticks could break a leg or in some way hurt him. Lying on the bathroom floor using the smallest flash light we have for light - I could periodically see his feet in amongst the Japanese beetle shells. With both Dad and I lying on the floor we could see his feet more suredly. After locating him and with greater accuracy performing a stick swipe to remove him, he made a horrid discovery. He could crawl up on a piece of particle board that serves as the base of the counter unit and be clear of the removal sticks. With him sitting on that 'ledge', there was no way for me to get him out. I tried a bent wire hanger with a rag tied on the end and then knew that this would be it. (and it wouldn't smell good.) But as it turns out, fathers can remove barriers that are otherwise impassable. Thirty seconds with a jigsaw and a 6"X6" hole provided the necessary access to the (unbeknownst-to-him) doomed mouse. Now Bimquist is no longer allowed to sit on the bathroom floor for his feeding and/or bath time. But he seems to be adjusting to his new formula and his eyes should be opening shortly. I have never felt so relieved to see a mouse as when Dad pulled him from under my freshly remodeled bathroom cabinet. It is good that I will be able to clean the beetle and cricket bits and pieces from beneath the cabinet.

pink frogs and high chair monkeys

Today I got to work in the 'baby room' at the day care. Two summers ago I worked primarily in the baby room. There were four babies born within 2 months of each other. They all learned to sit, crawl (one chose to scoot), and walk at very much the same time. That class will now soon be graduating to the 3-year-old room. They are potty trained and communicate quite efficiently in verbal English. They communicated quite efficiently when they were babies as well, but it wasn't in English.
Isabella's verbal skills have always been good. She told me once that when you cook a frog you can tell it is done when it turns pink. Her favorite color has been green from about 18 months old, perhaps cooked frogs are not then as appealing as live ones. One afternoon, Bella's advanced communication skills contributed to a bit of a squabble in the buggy. (We have a 6-seater buggy for the infants thru two-year-olds.) We all went walking and I asked all the kids in the buggy if they would like to go back to the day care or over to the park. Isabella enthusiastically replied 'Park!' Another girl, younger than Bella, equally enthusiastically answered 'No!' unbeknownst to Bella, the younger girl was not in actuality arguing with Bella or stating that she didn't desire to go the park - she was only verbalizing one of the only words that she knew well. What she clearing communicated was her enthusiasm and interest in answering the question and contributing to the conversation. Bella yelled back 'Park', to which hearty 'No!' was returned and on we went - to the park.
Kamden would climb anything in the baby room - he has always been a strong boy. Once (while I was sitting across the room feeding another infant) he pulled himself to standing on the high chair. He then grabbed the tray and did a full chin up while I panicked on the other side of the room. I was sure if I ran he would startle and fall. After checking the tray top, he lowered himself much more slowly and calmly than my heart rate did. Today I came outside holding an infant and Kamden came running and said 'Watch me'. He then ran up the side of the geodome, turned around on the bar, and jumped off. I couldn't resist the standard line, 'Be careful', but I have always wondered why adults think this statement will change the behavior of a child. Today was Kamden's last day. I don't feel ready to miss seeing the heights he will climb to, although it has been a blessing to witness those he has conquered.

controlled pests

There is a line which once crossed makes pest control more difficult.
It is just sleeping, but not yet weaned and I have no idea where its mother is. (I am sensible enough to have washed my hands.)

elephants in the flood waters

I'm just home from a brief stint in New Orleans attempting to assist in gutting houses with Samaritan's Purse. There is somewhere between too much to say and no way to put it all into words. The devastation has been well documented, pictorially and in articles, by individuals and news staff since the hurricane. What cannot be portrayed in a photo is the impact of the damage that is evident as you drive past miles and miles of demolished homes, or gutted homes with FEMA trailers parked out front. In the face of the enormity of the clean-up that will be necessary to restore some sense of normalcy to the coast it is seemingly impossible to know where to start in the process. More than once someone on our team or on the staff voiced the question, 'How do you eat an elephant?'. The answer, as we know, is 'One bite at a time.' The pessimist in me wonders if there is any good in eating an elephant if it is rotten beyond benefit by the time you finish. Many of the people of New Orleans have relocated as new opportunities have risen in their 'temporary' homes. There are continues to be red tape for individuals dealing with insurance or settlement issues. The entire clean up process is overwhelming in its magnitude as well as the interlaced and compounded issues surfacing through the process. I ended up thinking that perhaps you end up eating something other than an elephant. But, more so, the people affected have worked as community and neighbors to help each other when possible, but more importantly communicate hope.The greatest gift of the trip for me was the meeting the people that I worked and traveled (+40 hours) with. After the time spent with the team from Menomonie as well as the people of Samaritan's Purse it was quite difficult to think of returning to life without the camaraderie that was enjoyed all week. I have been in missions/ministry much of my life and after this trip I decided to just let it hurt to be separating from the people that I spent the week with. We spent some times together that have to be among the best memories of my life. (Not to mention that I have been taught how to remove a door frame.) The friendships formed remind me that one of the greatest gifts of heaven will be the time that we will have to spend with each other - regardless of schedules, obligations, or physical separation. Time spent with others within tight quarters and hot working conditions was an excellent opportunity for growth. After long days pounding down walls and shoveling plaster, I was still happy to see them when we left the work site. As a self-proclaimed hermit (half the time) this was notable to me - and now it is a bit sad to not have seen them for three days. I suppose when my schedule picks up and obligations increase, perhaps the physical separation will be less noticeable. In some ways, I hope not. I hope that we would learn the importance of community and serving each other before it takes a hurricane to call us to spend time with each other. Samaritan's Purse is an excellent charitable organization. Not only is the work being (albeit slowly) done, the gospel is being shared and individuals have ears to tell their stories too. The accommodations for volunteers are more than adequate as needs are met spiritually, emotionally, and physically. Our safety on the job site was of top priority as were our physical needs of food and water for the work days. The atmosphere created and encouraged by the Samaritan's Purse staff is conducive to enjoying the time there while in the midst of a lot of hard work as well as being surrounded by the destruction from the storm. The trip was the perfect combination of extreme de-construction (hot, sweaty hard work), French cuisine (or at least a French chef), and time spent as Christ's hands and with His people.

So the answer to the age old question 'How do you eat an elephant?' is the answer that has worked for thousands of years. It is best to invite friends and neighbors, especially those who are hungry, to a feast of togetherness and there, one bit at a time, devour that elephant.

slightly distorted

In March, Christine Ruth, at Cedarbrook church was speaking on marriage: the refiner's fire. She used the analogy of a mirror to depict how a marriage should operate as a way to see ourselves. It was interesting that she pointed out that at times our spouses (or closest friends) bring out the worst in us. It is that this is to be expected, and we have the opportunity to grow because of it. Our soul's mirrors extend to our relationships with our children, co-workers, and friends. This is then one of the many ways that community is used as a 'refiner's fire' to expose the flaws within us.
Just recently I have been reading Circle of Quiet by Madeleine L'Engle. She also writes of the our need for a mirror in others.
"I don't know what I'm like. I get glimpses of myself in other people's eyes. I try to be careful whom I use as a mirror: my husband; my children; my mother; the friends of my right hand. If I do something which disappoints them I can easily read it in their responses. They mirror their pleasure or approval, too."
She goes on to say that we aren't always careful of our mirrors. We choose to view ourselves through someone else's mirror, rather than the mirror that is meant to be distinctly for us. Christine Ruth closed her talk by saying that it is in a relationship with Christ that we have the opportunity to allow his refiner's fire to "surface the dross and form us into the pure, tested, and beautiful image of God". I would pray that there is more reflected from within than just me - my wishes, my desires, my thoughts, my demands; but also the love of Christ and the peace of the abundance of life lived in relationship with Him.

cricket control

The basement is full of crickets. I have decided that I won't wage war on the spiders, they eat a lot of crickets. This spider was on my laundry hamper - that's the blue background - then he hopped onto the floor. Then he just hopped all over.

Would crickets lay eggs in houseplants?

I have also tried feeding the crickets to my fish, but they don't eat them and I just ended up rescuing the cricket I had tried to murder anyway.

Ironic: I just paid $5 for algae to feed to my $3.50 plecostomus. Considering the condition of Tainter/Menomin lakes, this seems absolutely absurd. That also exceeds my own lunch budget by 100%.