A dream deferred.

I really shouldn't abuse the record of serious experiences that give rise to good poetry by comparing them to trivial things like that which follows, but this month, I've gotten to do something that I've wanted to do since childhood, something that I'd almost given up on. I have the opportunity to build a pinewood derby car. Pinewood derby cars are blocks of wood that contestants carve and paint to resemble cars, usually race cars. Contestants compete by rolling them down a wooden track. The cars are powered solely by gravity, kind of like small soap box derby cars. Boy Scouts and other kids' clubs hold annual races, and some of the competition can get quite fierce.

When I was a kid, only the boys got to build pinewood derby cars. The kids at my churches went either to Cadets (Calvinist Cadet Corp) or G.E.M.S. (Girls Everywhere Meeting the Savior/ Calvinettes). The Cadets got to make pinewood derby cars. The Calvinettes got to decorate cakes and learn things like counted cross-stitch, an activity I abhor to this day. I never quite forgave the Cadets for learning to make derby cars and operate saws and tie cool knots.

It just didn't seem fair. But my current church takes a more liberated view. Both the boys and the girls get to participate in the pinewood derby event. And this year, so do the adults. My pastor overheard me griping (note to self: don't gripe around the pastor; he might take steps to rectify the situation, and then you have to do something. ) that I'd never been allowed to make a car, so he said, "Why don't you make a car?" So now I'm making a pinewood derby car. My car is modeled on my real car. I designed it and cut it out myself. It's big and boxy and painted gold. I don't really have a convertible, as shown above, but I had to make this car a convertible because it already had part of it removed. You can see the seat and the soft top and the inside of the windshield from this angle. I haven't put in the details yet. Those will come later when I have more colors of paint. Wheels and axels will be stuck in those little slots that you can barely see, and it will fly down the course. At least I hope it will. I'll post pictures of the completed car before the competition.

Lots of pictures.

I want to get these out quickly so Seth can download them. We just went to my parents' house for a week, so we had lots of picture opportunities.

My dad loves tigers. He has two that are just Boogaloo's size. She took them everywhere. The activity of choice for the weekend was planting. Dad made Boogaloo a sandbox which thrilled her to no end. Boogaloo learns that marker can flavor tea (that's what's in the bottle). That's not jam. That's ink. Some of the gorgeous skies over my parents' house over the weekend. I love watching the storms roll through the Valley because the sky is so broad that you can really watch them roll through. Boogaloo running through the sprinkler. Boogaloo discovers hiding. She thinks that if she can't see us, we can't see her. Boogaloo and Auntie Abby coloring (and wedding planning). Boogaloo in her own sunhat in our backyard.

Boogaloo with her umbrella and her kitty in our backyard. She doesn't like umbrellas for rain, but she likes them for sun.

Hat and pjs.

What shall I call this post?

My head isn't working especially smoothly this evening, but it's been a wonderful day, and it's also been a while since the grandparents got any new Boogaloo pictures. I haven't really had time to take pictures lately, but when I realized that we had gone two whole weeks without a single picture taken, I grabbed the camera and made some time. After all, Daddy is counting on a continuous stream of information about his little girl.



Today was so gorgeous that we actually went outside without coats. Boogaloo, being at an age where it doesn't matter what one wears, also went outside without pants. She was, however, careful to take her sun hat, and when she dropped it and I put it away, she took mine.
She really loves my hat and her Sunday shoes.

Boogaloo is at an age where she's very interested in nature. She's beginning to distinguish between birds and butterflies. She recognizes bees and their distant cousins. And she picks flowers, which she calls "wishes." A little friend got her started on that. They began with dandelions, which, as you know, will grant you a wish if you blow all their seeds off in one try. Soon Boogaloo was pulling the heads off all the dandelions in my yard, and I encouraged her. After all, if they have no heads, they can't reproduce. But now all flowers are becoming wishes. The California poppies by the mailbox are no longer safe, and today she picked part of my bleeding heart. I can see that I'm going to have to reinforce the arbitrary distinction between plant and weed.

And here is a special bit for Daddy who is away from us right now. Love you, Love.

Chin Up, People.

We're happy again. After a deep breath and an excellent sermon at church, I can tell you that things are picking up since my last post. Annika is healing, and I haven't forgotten to do anything absolutely or even marginally essential. Actually, apart from the stress of sudden injuries and the frustration of figuring out how to organize my life without my husband in it, I'm doing pretty well. Fatigued, yes, but no tears. I might just be successfully hiding from his absence in my mind, but I'm more inclined to say that God is supporting me through the prayers of my friends and family, so thank you. Your prayers make a world of difference.

We have had gorgeous weather the last few days. The clouds seem to be coming back in now, so I guess I can expect more rain soon, but we had fun while it lasted. The air was so warm that I mowed the lawn and hung laundry on the line. Boogaloo got to play with the neighbors, and we went to the park today and played on the slide.

She is also learning to ride her "bike" (pictured below). She hasn't quite figured out where to put her feet, but she has the general idea of forward motion. We took it to the park today, and she got so jealous when friend Isi tried to ride it. I can see that we're going to have to arrange more opportunities for her to play with kids her own age so we can get this idea of sharing into her experience.

Today, Pastor Dave preached on the book of James, chapter 1 in light of 2 Corinthians 3: 3-6. The gist of what he said was that the goal of the Christian life is to become a mature Christian so in tune with the will and approval of God that the externals and internals that would tempt us no longer move us. The way we become mature is through perseverance. In other words, we come to a tempting circumstance, we ask God what we should do, we get an answer (because God gives wisdom freely and without reproach), and then we DO what He said. Perserverance lies in sticking to what God said until the tempting circumstance has passed instead of giving in halfway through.

I don't know about you, but that's where I have my difficulty. I can spot the temptation easily enough because I'm very familiar with it, and I'm usually pretty clear on how God wants me to respond to it because he always asks for the same thing. But there's this little glitch in my brain that says, "But these are special circumstances" or "It's just a test, so this isn't really sinning" or "You've been doing this so long that it's really more a part of your personality than an actual sin," and I give up on my good intentions or my personal disciplines before I can really get rolling. No perseverance, no maturity. I end up getting shaped by the world instead of the other way around.

Some of my friends will read this and say, "Really, Jenn, what's your greatest vice? Too much chocolate before you go to bed?" To which I say, small sins can be just as destructive as big ones, and internal sins like attitudes are the quickest road to hell. Does it really matter what the sin is if it keeps me from maturity?

My biggest vice is probably discontentment, which, contrary to what society would have you believe, is a sin on the level of rebellion. The circumstances in front of me are given to me by God who only gives GOOD gifts, so they must be for my benefit. That's not a platitude; that's a fact. I like to imagine myself away from my reality. Sometimes I'm reaching for a way to express truths that can't be fathomed in mundane life, but most of the time, I'm just discontent with myself, with my life, with my sphere of influence. I'm an escapist. How unReformed, how unDordtish, how unworthy of a student of true Christian fantasy is that? :) I could make excuse and say that my life is emotionally stressful, but really, whose isn't? I like to put unreasonable expectations on my circumstances, and by extrapolation God, and then zip off into my own little world when my expectations aren't met. Never mind how sinful. How childish.

Pastor Dave said that the trials that we are to consider pure joy are internal trials. The trial doesn't lie in the fact that we've lost a job or a foot or a husband (temporarily). The trial lies in how we respond to it. Our character is tested and revealed by the attitude and action in our response. We get to see all the little bumps and obstacles that our broken beings have put in the way of progress toward maturity. That's where perserverance comes in. We have to 1) continue to see the situation as God sees it, and 2) continue to do what God wants us to do. I respectfully submit that if you don't know how hard that is, then you haven't really tried or you haven't tackled your biggest vices yet.

I found the sermon bolstering in some of the struggles I've been facing, so I thought I would pass it on. It sort of slapped me in the face and said, "You've been compromising, kiddo. It's time to stop. You're going to need everything you have to be the wife and mother you need to be over these next few months. You can't afford to slip away into murky nether realms." Taming this inner tide isn't going to be easy. But God gives us competence that we wouldn't otherwise have (2 Cor. 3:5), and the safety net of grace when we have neither the wisdom nor the perseverance (1 John 1:9), and the road will eventually be clear in front of me. That's worthy of a big smile. I think I'll post one.

Love to you all. Good night.

well, he's gone. again.

Yup, we have started another deployment. With the Lord's provision, this is the second-to-last time that I will have to drive my husband to the base and kiss him goodbye with tears in my eyes. This one's going to be a little longer than usual, but we're almost done. Nothing short of WWIII could convince my husband to stay in the Navy past his due, and I'm starting to agree with him.

For one thing, raising a toddler by oneself is not fun. Boogaloo didn't even wait a day to prove the old Navy maxim "It always happens when the guys are away." She fell off my lap and sprained her shoulder this evening. Now she's resting under the influence of Tylenol, and I'm winding down before I go to bed, anticipating being up at least twice to redrug her. And no one to relieve me tomorrow when I get tired.

And for another thing, I think Boogaloo is beginning to register his absences. She's been out of sorts all day, even before she fell. I let the dog out at naptime, and she thought the squeaky door was daddy coming home. She wanted daddy when mommy was mean enough to make her lie still for x-rays. Daddy could make the owie go away. But daddy's gone. That means she had to snuggle with me, and I don't get anyone to snuggle with.

The morning show I was listening to this morning asked people to describe the last time they had cried. I thought that was fitting then, and I think it more so now. I'd feel a lot better if I could just muster the tears.

Good night.