Tuesday, September 7, 2010

Black Caps and Cackle Berries

Labor Day weekend of 2010 had me at a small private camp site just outside Newberg. The reason: the Fendall Family Camp Out. My mother-in-law was a Fendall by birth. The second of two children born to and raised by Dave and Bev, she became one of many cousins. Dave (my newest, yet oldest living grandpa) is the oldest of the seven Fendall children. All grown and grandparents now, they still manage to reunite every summer over the Labor Day weekend and the joyous craziness that occurs is nothing short of amazing. We arrived on Friday, having once again loaded our car with our camping gear and making a drive to some place that would allow us a weekend of sleeping in a tent, and were immediately greeted by my in-laws and new grandparents. It was dark as we set up our tent, but we made a quick job of it, and then rejoined the rest of the campers around a campfire. A hexagon shaped shelter of sorts plays home to the concrete fire pit which is surrounded by picnic tables and affords one side for a counter that would hold meal elements. Sitting around the campfire were Landon's grandparents, a few siblings and a few more grandchildren, cousins, sons and daughters. Without much light to really see the whole camp, I was content to sit and visit with those I had been introduced to. To me, this weekend was an opportunity to meet and get to know another vital part of my husband: his family. I had never realized the importance of this to me until Landon and I began to get to know one another. And here I was, surrounded by all those I had heard so many stories about. I could not have been more excited.
Saturday morning found me waking up to the smell of grilled bacon and the sounds of laughter as other campers gathered around some good camp-style food. Landon's dad and I both really enjoy a good cup of coffee in the morning and were a little nervous when we didn't see any. Luckily Landon had suggested I pack our french press coffee maker, so with some Trader Joe's Bolivian coffee in the bottom, and the water Janelle had heated, both of our coffee cravings were satisfied.
After breakfast and a business meeting of sorts, we were invited to participate in some friendly 'games.' Janice and Jessica had researched and put together all sorts of funny challenges, the likes of which consisted of attempting to get a bunch of ping pong balls out of a tissue box that had been belted onto our waists, moving an Oreo cookie from your forehead to mouth without using your hands, and many more. These brought much laughter and playful jeering from the audience. Something I began to appreciate very much was the joy everyone seemed to exude. It was apparent who the older siblings were, and who was younger. Dave's sisters, Charlotte and Lois, were especially good at jabbing at people, but always in love. In my family sarcasm and laughter is welcomed and the norm, and I was relieved to experience the same with Landon's family.
After a full spread at lunch and being joined by even more family members, it was time for an interview. Charlotte began these a few years ago after realizing that sometimes we don't even know the simplest of things about our own family members. Phil (the second oldest) was in the hot seat this year, and so for about an hour we all sat in audience as Phil shared his life story with us with Charlotte acting as a sort of Barbara Walters. We heard of his birth, grade school years, high school adventures, marriage, children, career, successes and some regrets. I appreciated so much his openness and willingness to share, even when the subject swayed towards aspects of life that have not been pleasant for him. He shared about picking black caps, which I learned are a sort of black raspberry that are really good for dying one's hands, or other materials. It was intriguing and fascinating, to listen. For the past few years I have felt this desire to hear people's stories. How did they get to the point they are in life? What has driven them? What is their favorite part of their story? I thanked Phil later for sharing with everyone.
The evening meal was again a sort of potluck, with delectable dishes being brought by everyone. If I learned one thing this last weekend, it was that the Fendall's enjoy food. I'm glad I married into this family... Landon and I went on a walk after dinner, hoping to catch the sunset over the neighboring vineyards. To our dismay, there were no clouds to provide the art we were hoping for, but instead I got something much better. Sitting in the straw-like grass, next to my husband, watching the sun sink ever lower, I was blessed with an incredible contentment. I have only felt that way a handful of times in my life. A deep founded peace, knowing that where I am in that moment is exactly where I am supposed to be. It was a heavy and thick peace, and I was silenced by it...
Making our way back down to the camp ground we began laughing at the screams and exclamations coming from the camp fire area. Bunco had begun, and even if people didn't know how to play they were roped into it, and in true Fendall fashion, that meant plenty of jokes and laughter. I sat down next to Grandpa Dave and just admired the craziness. They sure did love rolling that dice!
Sunday morning was when our family was charged with making breakfast and conducting the worship service. Landon and Steve manned the griddles, cooking up pancakes, bacon, eggs and little smokies, as I cut up fruit and Janelle made sure everything was out. I had found some pumpernickel bread at the Kiva a few days before we left Eugene, and after asking Steve to toast it for me, was pleasantly surprised by how good it was with a little butter on it. Better not risk stomach issues when so many people had to share one port-a-potty.
Neil and Kelsey arrived about half way through breakfast. Kelsey and the boys had come the day before, but due to work my brother in law wasn't able to come. They made it for church, though, and Neil lead the gathered group in worship. There is not much that beats an acoustic guitar accompanied by voices lifted in praise, in my opinion. After Neil closed in prayer, Landon took his place behind the microphone. We had spoke numerous times about what he would say, to which the final answer came, "I'm going to just be God's mouth piece." It was poignant, what he said, and I fought back tears the entire time as I saw yet another side of my husband displayed. A peaceful reassurance swept over me as I listened to my best friend express his heart for his family, and their relationships with the Lord. This marriage honestly gets better and better, bringing joyous surprises every day. As Landon finished sharing his heart, he requested that the Fendall siblings pray over the rest of us, in a way imparting in us what God had placed in each of them. It was beautiful to me, and though I had sort of a back row view, I wasn't upset by that. Instead I was able to witness what God wanted me to, and able to take it all in. After we all found our seats again the microphone was 'open' for others who needed or wanted to share prayer requests and then subsequently for those who felt urged to pray for specific things. I'm not sure that everyone expected the service to go that way, but it turned out to be an incredibly healing thing for many of us, I believe. Church under the trees. Simply wonderful.
Sunday lunch was the 'all-out' potluck. This meal was when everyone brought their planned dish to share, and the spread was incredible. I ended up talking with another of Janelle's cousins, Cheryl, for quite some time which prolonged me going through the line but there was still plenty. I loved that about this weekend. Sharing, community, laughter, serving. It was incredible to watch and witness.
After lunch while games were going on, Elliott and I went on a hike of sorts. He is a mover, and very energetic, and began the whole adventure by climbing up a hill and standing near some tall grass. We weren't sure what he was doing so I ascended the same hill and asked. "I'm standing in the grass." We began to walk side-hill, heading for a trail. Elliott is really smart for the two and three quarter years that he is, and he was pointing out numerous things to me. Every question I asked, he knew the answer, so I felt a sense of accomplishment when I showed him what a thistle bush was, and demonstrated to him that it was pokey. "Fissle bush. Fissle bush. Fissle..." He repeated it again and again, reminding himself how to say it and what it was. Its amazing to me to watch as young children learn.
Sunday afternoon also held a golf tournament of sorts. Teeing off on the same road that Landon and I had watched the sunset, there was a long drive and closest to pin contest, with brackets for men, women and 18 and younger. I am not a golfer by my own admission, so to get out of the humiliation of slice after slice, Elliott and I went to visit the horses. A little startled at the size of the animal at first, he was shy, but as I showed him how to hold the grass at the end furthest from the horse's mouth and the horse actually ate it, he was excited. After that became boring we started walking down the driveway. I finally got Elliott to turn around after asking him if he wanted to see the puppy, otherwise I think we'd still be hiking across the valley.
That evening many people made their exit, so when Landon and I woke up from our nap it was only a select few left. We were able to spend more time with a few family members on more of a one-on-one basis, and I was blessed by the time.
The next morning was simply breakfast and clean-up. Gary made some pancakes and cackle berries, which I had learned this weekend are eggs. One thing to say about the Fendalls, they have a few interesting names for things. Snorks: hot dogs. Black caps: black raspberries. Cackle berries: eggs. Plus many more I can't remember now. Made for interesting conversations, and more laughter... Breaking camp was a semi-sweet thing. Though I was excited to get a shower (four days is a little long to go without) and needed some more sleep before work that night, it was also sad to leave. Family is huge to both of us, and I was welcomed in to the Fendall family as if I had been born in. The plain joy of the whole weekend is something I didn't want to leave, and both Landon and I were somewhat somber as we drove away from Heritage Hill. I am blessed to be a part of this family, and look forward to many more camp outs.

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Revisiting

This song by Brooke Fraser has impacted me time after time, and again, as I revisit it, I am struck again.

Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Noc Shift

I arrived at work tonight at 11 pm, a little tired, with a coffee in one hand and my name badge in the other. The feeling brought back numerous memories beginning two years ago, when I was hired into my first full time position at PeaceHealth. I was blessed to extern at a fairly ideal time, also known as, the opening of a new hospital. RiverBend celebrated it's grand opening in August of 2008, providing me with a job right after graduation. My hours would prove challenging: an eight hour day shift, then a twelve hour night shift, and two more ten hour night shifts, over the weekend. I would spend many weekends sleepless, experiencing a myriad of aches and pains my body used as an alert system to the lack of rest I was getting. Migraines being the worst, I was relieved to board the plane for Rwanda and leave the night shift behind me. Or so I thought... A couple of weeks ago the opportunity arose to have weekends off with my husband. The catch: back to night shift. This time the hours would be Monday-Thursday, but nonetheless, working whilst 'normal people' sleep. After talking it over with Landon, I decided to put in my resume, not knowing whether I'd get the position. But here I am. Back on nights, and strangely enough, extremely excited for it. I love the feel of the hospital at night, the culture of the staff. It has more of a feeling of a team, and there seems to be more patience for each other. There also isn't a lot of management. I consider our department blessed with the supervisors and managers we do have, but there is a simple joy in doing my work and not because someone is watching every move I make. I also am excited to learn more. I believe that this shift will afford that more, in different ways than just x-ray. So here's to all those night shift workers out there! I'm back in it with you and I admire your strength.

Monday, August 30, 2010

Number 18

Over the weekend we joined some of Landon's friends in Maupin, OR, for a raft down the Deschutes River. I would assume that my grandparent's might call going through Box Car a little nuts, so I am saying that this float fulfilled Number 18 of the 25 before 25 list.

Friday, August 27, 2010

One Year Ago

One year ago I had just arrived in Kigali, Rwanda. I had purchased a plane ticket, stepped down from my position at the hospital, said goodbye to loved ones and began a three day long mirage of flights and airplane food that would finally bring me to Rwanda once again, hugging on ones I had missed for the better part of a year. It would be the beginning of a three month long adventure that would not only humble and break me, but also encourage, strengthen and grow me in more ways than words can express. I would learn how to cope with a huge language barrier, wash my clothing by hand, and not only survive but really live in a country not my own. Only one year ago this was all beginning, and now, to see what has transpired since then... I'm speechless. The past few days have found me wondering when I'll return. The longing on my heart has not waned, and the desire has only increased. As I've said before, I know that I am here on purpose and for a season, but it doesn't make the want subside. I am not discontent where I am, but I am not content either. I am learning, growing and plowing ground while I am here, which is all needed in its own right, and is teaching me far more than immediately being gratified. But it doesn't make it any easier. My husband told me recently that "God hasn't forgotten about this," as he tapped his finger on my chest, indicating my heart. "He hasn't forgotten." I nodded in agreement, but still couldn't keep the tears from rolling out of my eyes. It still hurts, but I know it will be good.
Those who sow in tears will reap with songs of joy. Ps 126.5

Monday, August 23, 2010

Nine Months Later

I have these really incredible friends. A group of women, all around my age, passionate about following hard after Jesus and loving on people. We all came to know one another through a college group we were going to, and bonds began to form, the ebb and flow between them changing, but nonetheless present. We've cried with each other, laughed with each other, and shared. They've supported me in my greatest adventures, and invited me to support them in theirs. Its a group of women I am incredibly thankful for.
This past weekend Erin got married. We all came together to once again offer our love, prayers and support, and as I looked at the picture of us and one exactly nine months earlier, I was amazed. Nine months ago, on November 21st, we had all convened in Bend, OR, for a getaway weekend. I was fresh off the plane from Rwanda, heart in shambles and jet-lagged. These women were each going through their own things, but as we got together there was encouragement. I was allowed to 'be', seemingly always apologizing for my social awkwardness, but gently told it was nothing to apologize for. We rested, laughed, played games, window shopped and had numerous conversations, ranging in topic from the incredible win the Ducks had pulled out to the deepest longings of our hearts for the next part of our lives. Providence brought us together that weekend, and I am forever grateful for it.
Since that November weekend, numerous events has transpired for us: weddings for two of us; travels to the likes of Kazakhstan and Australia; decisions to return to college; and much spiritual growth through various circumstances. It is amazing to me what can occur in a nine month period, and yet I am reminded through these pictures that relationships last, and are worth every effort to strengthen. So blessed by these women...
November 21, 2009 in Bend, OR
Nine months later, August 21, 2010, in Junction City, OR. (Missing Bec)

Sunday, August 22, 2010

Hospital Hallways

I sometimes think I have it down. I perform my job duties adequately, interact with other staff well, and leave after my shift in good spirits. I have it down, I can do it. But then things happen that challenge my prideful ego. Little faces badly hurt, young bodies broken and mangled, and elderly patients trying to hold on. Their vulnerability hits deep and lingers, bringing up memories of others like themselves I have attempted to adequately serve. My job is only a small piece in the whole puzzle of wellness, but it is also within my control. It is within my control to offer softness instead of rigidity, to speak kindly instead of harshly, and to maintain their dignity while completing the task I have been charged with. I look around at those I labor with, and I am humbled. Each incredibly different, but setting those differences aside in order to serve the one in front of us; the hurting, broken, and sick one in front of us. Sometimes I have it down, but some days I walk these hallways and tears fill my eyes to the brim. Its humbling, beautiful, challenging, and wrecking, all in the same overwhelming moment...

Numer 21

Yesterday with the company of my husband, our friend Scott, and Scott's dad, Jeff, I checked off number 21 on my 25 before 25 list: mountain bike on the McKenzie River Trail. It was a beautiful day for it, and the trail was amazing. Though extremely technical and more advanced than my limited expereience is ready for in some parts, I thoroughly enjoyed myself, even after realizing I bent my rear disk brake. Darn lava rock.
The crew, with all four bikes piled on the Mazda. Inspecting the 'damage' after flying over the handle bars.
Enjoying this.
Clear Lake beauty.
Scott and Jeff tearing it up. Crossing above Sahalie Falls.
Waterfalls are incredible to me.
Fashioned precisely for each other.
"And I'm spent!"

Thursday, August 19, 2010

Numer 25

Done at 1 pm, August 19th, by a guy name Erich. 'Suubi', in my husband's handwriting, means 'hope' in Lugandan, the national language of Uganda. The sparrow represents provision, protection, and freedom, inspired by Matthew 6.25-27.
Her name is Patsy, she's 75 and got her first tatoo today at the same shop I was getting mine done at. Said she's wanted one since she was ten and she saw the one on her uncle's arm. It was a picture of a girl and when he flexed, the tattoo 'danced.' You're never too old...

Slow Down a Bit

Convenience. Lately I have felt an echo in my soul to refrain from immediate gratification, remain for a moment, smell the breeze. It has been an interesting journey, one that began sometime at the beginning of last year, but it is creating some new realities in my life, for which I am grateful: the microwave in my house is under boxes in the utility room, I'm selling my car, though an air-conditioning unit is available to us it's not in use, commuting on my bike has become more and more prevalent, cooking from scratch is the new norm in our kitchen. I don't know what sparked all of these changes, but I am so thankful because these physical changes are also paralleled by spiritual ones as well, and though more difficult to explain, the effects are just as real and life-changing.
"The idea of cultivation and exercise, so dear to the saints of old, has now no place in our total religious picture. It is too slow, too common. We now demand glamour and fast-flowing dramatic action. A generation of Christians reared among push buttons and automatic machines is impatient of slower and less direct methods of reaching their goals. We have been trying to apply machine-age methods to our relations with God. We read our chapter, have our short devotions and rush away, hoping to make up for our deep inward bankruptcy by attending another gospel meeting or listening to another thrilling story told by a religious adventurer lately returned from afar. The tragic results of this spirit are all about us: shallow lives, hollow religious philosophies, the preponderance of the element of fun in gospel meetings, the glorification of men, trust in religious externalities, quasi-religious fellowships, salesmanship methods, the mistaking of dynamic personality for the power of the Spirit. These and such as these are the symptoms of an evil disease, a deep and serious malady of the soul." (P64-65, The Pursuit of God, A.W. Tozer)
These words from Tozer challenged me today. I am realizing there are no immediate results in things that matter the most (namely relationships) and I am learning that diligence is a beautiful characteristic to possess. I would like it said of me. Those things I have waited for mean the most in the long run. I want to work hard for things, little by little building on a solid foundation. When I helped build the house in Rwanda, the foundation was sure. It had not been rushed. The builders knew that the foundation was vital to the life and stability of the home. How true of life and relationships. Longing for more, I'll wait. Give me the lasting, not the immediate.