tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-79828745527613882522024-03-14T06:53:31.263-07:00Behind the Scenes with the HastingsMatt and Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01926040068969541936noreply@blogger.comBlogger35125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7982874552761388252.post-87555970824196261562014-06-01T10:34:00.000-07:002014-06-01T10:34:25.029-07:00Why Blogs Don't Work...I've already given my reasons for why I've left Facebook, but I've also taken a break from blogging for a while. Although with blogging, I'm willing to give it another chance, because from my perspective, I believe it can be more easily redeemed than something such as Facebook. <div>
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Blogs, like Facebook are by nature usually quite narcissistic. It's usually an attempt to promote self, or some grand idea that really is a masquerade for promoting self. (i.e. look how smart I am, with this profound advice or experience; let's fill the comment section with how great I am). It becomes all too easy to promote ideas or experience as gospel truth, and anyone who questions those ideas or experiences is being insensitive at best, intolerant at worst. </div>
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As I've grown as person, I've learned that sometimes, people just have bad advice, and other times, people just give the wrong advice. Just because it's blogged about doesn't mean it's true, and yet we see it that way. </div>
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Along with this point is the fact that blogs can serve a smoke screen to hide reality from the audience. I can take a story where I reamed out my kids for something stupid and paint it with words into this beautiful or funny anecdote with a wonderful message, but that doesn't change the fact that I have a real problem yelling at my kids. Furthermore, I can say I "know" I have a problem getting frustrated with my kids, and by "confessing" it in a blog, I'm being "authentic", but really all I'm doing is using the internet as my priest and I have no real intent on changing. Frankly, the hard work of change doesn't happen on a blog post, it happens in the shadows of the drudgery of life. And unfortunately, that's not as glamorous as a blog post that goes viral. </div>
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Another problem with blogs is that the forum validates all experiences. Frankly, that just logically doesn't work. All experiences can't be valid. You can tolerate all experiences, you can hear out all experiences, but they're not all equally healthy valid expressions of life. Everyone sees themselves as right in their own eyes; I know I do, and the last thing I want to do is use my blog space on the internet to further ingrain in my head how right I am and how wrong everyone else is. </div>
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So, can blogs be different? Can I redeem this space? What would a redeemed blog look like? </div>
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1)Humble attitude: Yes, it's my blog, but that doesn't mean I'm always right. I've got to be teachable. If I provide a piece of parenting advice or a leadership principle or a rehashing of an experience I've had, does that mean I'm necessarily right? Of course not! I never want to write as if I know everything. </div>
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2)Appropriate authenticity: On one hand, I don't want to paint myself as having it all together. That's important. But like I stated before, the more insidious aspect of inauthenticity on a blog is that idea that by being "real" on our blog, it somehow absolves us of checking back into the drudgery of the real world and working hard at relationships. A blog better not matter more than loving my child. A blog better not matter more than my husband. A blog better not matter more than a hurting student at church. It's just a blog, and at the end of the day, it's going to always be like priority 15 on my list, because being authentic in real life takes a lot of time and work. </div>
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3)Real conversation: Oh my gosh. If you're going to talk about how awesome my post is, just don't waste the time writing a comment. First of all, I'm an achiever at heart, so telling me how awesome I am doesn't help my cause. Second of all, I'm only 27, so by definition, I'm not that awesome, because I have like zero life experience. I don't have the answers to the universe's problems, so let's save the comment section for offering different perspectives, constructive criticism, and the like. Let's have a genuine conversation, and for goodness sake, let's have the comment section be a safe place to disagree. </div>
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So that's kind of how I imagine a healthy blog functioning. Humility, "real" authenticity (that should be a redundant phrase, but authenticity is such a hip catch phrase today that it's sadly not redundant), and real conversation (as opposed to butt kissing). </div>
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My vision for blogs that function like that was inspired by Richard Beck's blog www.experimentaltheology.blogspot.com. </div>
Matt and Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01926040068969541936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7982874552761388252.post-42607853069047798362014-05-08T06:01:00.000-07:002014-05-08T06:01:37.474-07:00Why I left Facebook and went to the the Desert...Social media for me is like the crisis that early Church Fathers faced when Rome embraced Christianity. <div>
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I know, that doesn't make any sense. So let me explain. </div>
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For years, Christians were the persecuted by Rome. Even if you take a liberal view of history, we can all agree that Christians at least weren't the most liked group in ancient Rome. </div>
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And then, one day, everything changed. Constantine became a Christian and Christianity was no longer marginalized, but celebrated and promoted from the emperor. </div>
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A religion with limited resources now had infinite money at its disposal. A religion that sat on the sidelines now had copious amounts of power. And we all know where this is headed...right? Power, corrupts. </div>
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But there were genuine people still in the ranks. These genuine Christ followers grappled with the question of how to remain a humble servant of Christ amidst the glorified institution that Christianity had become. </div>
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There were two main schools of thought. </div>
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One group said, "Let's try to make this work. Let's be a light amidst the glory, power, and corruption. Let's serve our brothers and sisters in love and be a reminder of what the truth is in spite of the glitz."</div>
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The other group said, "It can't be redeemed, let's go to the desert. Our fleeing will be a reminder that God looks down on this perversion of his following."</div>
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That's how I look at social media, especially Facebook. As I watched for months, I tried to be in group A. "I'll be different," I told myself. "No passive-aggressive posts from me. No quizzical status updates that coerce people into asking how I'm doing or what I'm talking about." If I had a problem, I would either work it out through God, or if necessary talk directly to the person with whom I was in conflict. </div>
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But as I watched, I just got sicker and sicker, angrier and angrier. I tried to post things that brought light- inspiring quotes, thought provoking articles that I always provided caveats for, fun (because everyone needs more fun in their lives). But watching everyone else, it was too exhausting to watch. </div>
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It became a medium for people to be angry without having a conversation. It became a place for people to lie about their lives, painting things as rosy in order to escape reality. It became a place for people to slam others (in the most professional and sly sort of way). </div>
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And then this picture. Church Father, or Desert Monk? Which one was I going to be? Be a light in the midst of poor relational skills and defensiveness (which usually ends up being plain old sin), or let my absence be an indictment on Facebook?</div>
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Interestingly enough, both the Church Fathers and the Desert Monks at this time were largely influential. I was surprised to learn that God effectively used both groups to accomplish His will. Because he is a God of infinite resources, whatever conclusion these men and women took, stay or go, He used them. </div>
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And so I could trust that he would use me as long as I walked humbly with Him. And so I walked away. I walked away from the desire to paint this great picture of my life to everyone else. I walked away from the anger and frustration of others and myself. I walked away from the fear that if I wasn't on Facebook, I'd lose important connections. </div>
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But I learned something through the process. I was a lot happier without Facebook. I was excited to learn things from people when they shared news with me face to face rather than learning it outside of their presence. I learned that I wasn't responsible to micromanage, stalk, or keep up with other people that weren't in my circle. I'm beginning to let God bring people in and out of my life. I'm detoxing from unhealthy social media use and unhealthy social media ways of relating. </div>
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Strangely, Desert Monks went to the desert to be alone, but people followed them. Some of them became frustrated because so many people wanting to learn the ways of Christ followed them into the desert. I'm not saying that I am anyone to emulate (I'm good at some things but terrible at others), but I do trust that some people will follow me out of this strange world of social media and into deep face-to-face relationships. </div>
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This leads me to one last thought. I believe in my heart of hearts that technology will be with us forever. I don't eschew it, and I want to stay ahead of the curve, mainly for ministry's sake. I work with middle and high schoolers, and one of the deciding factors of why I could confidently leave Facebook is that teens don't use Facebook much at all anymore. So, I didn't need it to work with my tribe. Facebook has become a tribe of middle aged people who are desperately seeking connection. That's not where God has intentionally called me. And those who are middle aged who need connection, I'm looking to connect with face to face, not via social media. </div>
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So, I'm not going to totally leave technology. In fact, I think blogs have the potential to be an awesome redeeming space on the internet, and I hope that I can turn this blog into just that. But, that's going to take some time, and some effort, and some relearning of how we do blogs. But that is a post for a different day...</div>
Matt and Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01926040068969541936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7982874552761388252.post-16847627017571195392013-05-18T17:38:00.000-07:002013-05-18T17:38:10.053-07:00The Gospel of RuthI hate shopping. I really do. I have friends who look at my wardrobe and just shake their head. Sometimes, I shake my head, too, because the entire thing just looks utterly ridiculous to me most days. <div>
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But...</div>
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For those who know me, there is one thing that I will spend hours and hours shopping for...</div>
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Put me in a bookstore, and I will stay for a long time. </div>
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Put me in a used bookstore, and well, a search party may be necessary to get me out. </div>
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Needless to say, children don't make my book shopping the easiest activity (which may be a good thing). But, Matt and I have Kindles, so I frequent the virtual bookstore almost daily, scouring Amazon for whatever deals may be present. </div>
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So, I download a lot of free books. Here's the cool thing about Christian literature. I guess it's for publicity's sake, but a lot of times, you can find some pretty good Christian lit for free. And I download these books. And they sit, </div>
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and sit</div>
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and sit</div>
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on my Kindle. </div>
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Waiting to be read. </div>
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Because like anyone who loves shopping for a good deal, it's more the thrill of getting a good deal that makes the shopping so fun, not actually using the purchased item for its intended purpose. </div>
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Anyway, I say all that because I downloaded this book called "The Gospel of Ruth". It looked kind of cool, and it was free, and there it sat on my Kindle. </div>
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Well, then after Matt's first church history class this semester, he says, "So, my professor's wife is an academic, too. She wrote a book. It's about Ruth." </div>
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And me, being the information storehouse that I am, asked, "What's your professor's last name again?" </div>
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And Matt's like, "James." </div>
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And I'm like, "OMG I HAVE THAT ON MY KINDLE!" </div>
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Flash forward to today. I'm 3/4 of the way through the book, and let me tell you, Carolyn Custis James has some quite insightful things to highlight in terms of the book of Ruth. </div>
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I'm just going to bullet point through a few of these for you all (and for me). I hope that it not only encourages you all to pick up this very approachable scholarly work, but that it also spurs us to critically think about the framework we use to approach the book of Ruth. </div>
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1. Quote 1: "Furthermore, my husband, while believing that his work and mine were deeply intertwined, never believed his profession was the answer to questions I was asking about God's calling for me. So did I have a calling?" </div>
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James writes this in the introduction. Call it deep entrenchment in gender roles or insecurity or something else entirely, but THIS right is at the crux of my personal struggle of internalizing God's personal call upon my life. I have lived my entire life thinking of myself as an addendum to someone else (whoever or whatever may be closest to me at the time). And it's strange, because I don't believe this mentality was actively foisted upon me, but for some strange reason, I have this propensity to have absolutely no passion, drive, or vision of what God could possibly want for my life. </div>
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Now, I personally eschew the idea that God has some exciting adventure planned out for us all and that he's just waiting for us to just hop on board; I think God most deeply works through the mundane. So I don't think that God hasn't been working through me, or that I've been out of God's will. But I've always thought it strange that I have no desire to pursue ANYTHING. Like, that's weird, right? </div>
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Here's the funny thing. I do believe (to a certain extent-but that's not the point of this post) in gender roles. But what this quote made me realize like a slap in the face was that I had been hiding behind gender roles to excuse myself from exploring what I genuinely enjoy and how God has uniquely gifted me.</div>
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It kind of looks like this: </div>
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"I don't need to really worry about me because we just need to get Matt through his Master's. We can worry about me later." </div>
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"It just seems logical that I'll stay at home with my kids, because they're young and it's best for our family."</div>
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As I write all of this, I think there are two reasons deeply engrained in the core of who I am as to why I do this. </div>
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1) Pursuing something specific means that I must face rejection or failure. I hate both of those things. </div>
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2) I hate both of these things because I so deeply define myself by my successes and being accepted by others. </div>
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Well. This is a problem on so many levels it isn't even funny. </div>
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It shows for one that I have yet to internalize that God has accepted me into his Kingdom regardless of what successes I have under my belt. </div>
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It also shows that I'm paralyzed by fear concerning anything that will show that I'm either not successful or not acceptable because that's how I define my value. </div>
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Oh dear. This is not the way that Jesus has called us to live. This is far far far from Sermon on the Mount living. </div>
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So can I just meditate on this truth for a few decades and really internalize the fact that God loves me and likes me just because I'm me?! If I got this, it would be a good start.</div>
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"Somehow we've convinced ourselves that the more mature we become as Christians-and both Naomi and Job were seasoned believers-the thicker our spiritual skin will become. We'll be resilient in adversity. It's a sign of spiritual failure (so we tell ourselves) when suffering gets the better of us and our faith in God gets shaky. Such notions (which aren't supported by Scripture, certainly not by the legacies of NAomi and Job) get in the way of our spiritual growth and block us from engaging the God who pursues us in our pain. To tell the truth, when the full force of our sufferings hit us, no matter how long we've walked with God or how much theology we've mastered, faith in God can take an awful beating"</div>
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Can we just sit there for a second? This is so profound. I think I knew this, but James puts it so plainly. What in the world does it look like when a church does THIS, instead of awkwardly trying to explain things away? What does this look like 3, 4, 5 years down the road after someone experiences tragedy and it's still so real and raw for them but we've all but moved on? I don't know the answer to those questions, but I do know that I want the answer to be framed around the spirit of this idea. </div>
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"He [God] isn't interested in tinkering with the existing system of human values so we can say we're doing things "better" than others. The gospel completely overhauls the human soul and introduces us to a radically new dimension of human relationships."</div>
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Sometimes, I feel like Christianity is just a cleaned up way of living. And I think in high school and college, it's easy to look at Christianity in terms like that. I felt like Christianity was mainly about the moral decisions I made. And I thought that by making certain moral choices, I was better. But as I sit here today, more than ever I'm convinced that while cleaning up my lifestyle has value, the problem still lies within myself. As Jesus said, the inside of the cup is still dirty. </div>
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This quote for me highlights how far from the truth it is to believe that Christianity is just cleaning up your lifestyle. It's a complete overhaul from the inside out. </div>
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"The Sermon on the Mount knocked down the walls that religious living had constructed around God's law and pointed to a way of living that goes beyond the letter of the law to the spirit. Formal religion only takes us so far-for it is both safe and doable. Love, however, knows no limits, takes costly risks, and looks for ways to give more." </div>
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"The letter of the law says, 'Let them glean.' The spirit of the law says, 'Feed them.' Two entirely different concepts. Ruth's bold proposal [to Boaz for her to glean in his field] exposes the difference."</div>
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I seriously get chills every time I read the second quote listed here. I almost cry every stinking time. If you're not aware of ancient Israel gleaning laws, the basic idea is that if you had land, you were supposed to leave what fell to the ground and not harvest the corners of your property so that the poor would have food to eat. The purpose was so that none would go hungry. </div>
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But then it became more and more technical. How big is a corner? How much should I leave on the ground for the poor? And as the law became more and more technical, the spirit of it was lost. </div>
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How often do I feel proud of myself because I'm following the law that modern Christianity has given me today while others go hungry both physically and spiritually? </div>
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How often do I allow myself to be blind to needs around me because I'm so focused on following law to a T? </div>
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James does a fantastic job of highlighting the role of the barren woman and the widow throughout scripture. I felt like a complete idiot for never putting all of this together, but it was absolutely fascinating to see the role of the widow and the barren woman throughout the Bible. What was even more fascinating was the way God invited them into his purposes. </div>
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James not only highlights the implications of being barren and/or a widow in ancient Near Eastern times, but she beautifully ties in the implications for today's modern widows and barren women. It seriously is some of the better scholarly work I've seen on the study of the widow and the barren woman, and the best part is that it's completely accessible to all of us non-academics out there. </div>
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Those two chapters framed the book of Ruth in a way that I really hadn't seen before. I was guilty for having glazed over the tragedy of both Naomi and Ruth and the triumph of what God was doing in their lives. </div>
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So seriously, I don't know why this book was ever free. But it was. I'd gladly provide a link to it, but I don't do all that coding stuff. It freaks me out. But you could type in "The Gospel of Ruth" on the Amazon search engine and buy the book. It's totally worth it. </div>
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Matt and Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01926040068969541936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7982874552761388252.post-80244942348650421222013-05-12T18:55:00.002-07:002013-05-12T18:55:25.383-07:00A Happy Mother’s Day… <br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">At first when I began feeling achy this afternoon, I didn’t think much of it.</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">As a family, we work pretty hard on Sunday, so it’s normal to feel ready for a nap after lunch.</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">But I wasn’t just ready for a nap, my body was screaming for a nap. I felt like narcoleptic Mr. Bean in the movie Rat Race (remember that?) and I was just going to fall asleep on my feet. </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Then the shivers started. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Then I realized I’d been ignoring some serious pain in my...um...at the risk of saying too much...lactation machines, and being the knowledgable breastfeeding master that I am (much thanks to my mother-in-law), my first thought was the dreaded…</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">DUN DUN DUN…</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b>Mastitis. </b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Great. Happy Mother’s Day to me. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">And that was about all I could think about. How sick I felt; how frustrated I was with myself because I was the one who allowed myself to get so rundown. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I made the conscious decisions the past three weeks to eat terribly, sleep little, and just overall not take care of myself. And I’m not saying that mastitis and unhealthy habits are directly correlated, but I do know from my past experiences that staying healthy and taking care of one’s self goes a long way in the breastfeeding department. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">But something fascinating transpired tonight as I write, so I record this more for my own records than anything else. I was sick, so I had to make a choice. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I had to quickly prioritize things in my head and ask myself, “What are the responsibilities that I just can’t hand off?” “What is most important, and what is least important?” </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I knew right then and there as Hope was having a meltdown on the stairs, that I didn’t have a capacity to listen. But I can’t hand off parenting. I can’t hand off really loving my kids. Matt is there to help, and he </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px; text-decoration: underline;"><b>really</b></span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> did (dinner, tea in bed, taking the kids to the park after dinner, all while he has a final to study for tomorrow), but I’m still there; I can’t check out from my kids’ lives. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">So I allowed myself to let go. And I just did what I could do. And I relaxed because I knew I’d never get to the dishes. I knew my normal bedtime routine with Hope just wasn’t going to happen. It was just going to be what it was going to be, and I just gave myself grace. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">And surprisingly, I was able to live in the moment and enjoy with the little energy I did have all the sweet little things that Hope says. And surprisingly, I was able to give her grace when she began acting up about bedtime. Not because I possessed this super high capacity strength, but because I wasn’t hurrying through her bedtime so I could get on with the other things I had to do. I was just going to kick back my feet anyway. Why not do it in Hope’s bed with her until she calms down a bit? And then Ian wanted to be rocked, and I somehow found energy to just bounce him indefinitely. And my body didn’t ache so bad. And I cherished rocking him. I ACTUALLY CHERISHED it. Because I know he’s going to grow up soon. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I don’t say all this to guilt anyone into cherishing their kids more. I know stuff has to get done. Sometimes, mornings are filled with calls to incompetent insurance companies (not that I have any experience with that). Other times, the dishes just need to be done, and no one else in the house is jumping at the task, and you realize it’s not sustainable to keep pulling cutting boards out of your dirty dishwasher and wiping them down quickly. WE NEED PLATES TO EAT ON, for goodness sake. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">But what I AM saying is this: I will never consciously slow down. I just won’t do it. It’s in my nature. I have to achieve things. And it drives me nuts some days that I’m pouring into these nebulous priorities called children (how do I know if I love my child they will become the person I want them to be? Answer: I don’t know. Love is a huge risk.), and some days, to be quite honest, I feel that something inside of me begging for a chance to check something tangible off my list. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">And it doesn’t happen. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">So I get frustrated at myself. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">And then..I get frustrated at my children. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">But here’s the cool part. I didn’t have to slow me down. God slowed me down. He slowed me down with a 101 fever and some severe pain. And at first, I was frustrated beyond belief. But as I rocked Ian to sleep, I realized that I was cherishing him and loving him! And I was enjoying it! </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Don’t get me wrong. I L.O.V.E my babies. But the crux of it is that there is a war inside of me. And no matter what side I take, I always feel guilty (“Great job Rachel. You’re putting a puzzle together as the toilet bowl continues to collect yuckiness.” On the other hand, I sometimes get, “How can you care more about the toilet than your daughter pleading for you to do one more puzzle with her? What kind of complex are you giving her?”). </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">So what tonight reminded me of was this: I have to get stuff done, but IT’S OKAY to stop. It’s okay to rest. And because God seems to be relentlessly pursuing me (which is almost comical to me at times), he reminds me of that. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">With that mindset, I can be thankful and enjoy the moment. And what surprised me was that by not focusing on what HAD to be done, I enjoyed my life better and I enjoyed my community of little children a lot better. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">In some ways, I think I accomplished more than I have in a long time. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>Disclaimer: I in no way know what it feels like to live in chronic pain. This is not meant to be some cute little blog post to diminish the physical (and mental) pain that some people live with every day. It’s not meant to encourage anyone to just pull up their bootstraps and just work harder. It’s meant to remind me, and anyone else that can relate, that those little inconveniences in the drudgery of everyday life are often the tools God uses to shape us. </i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>Disclaimer 2: Some may be wondering why I haven’t blogged lately. It just wasn’t time. It got knocked off the priority list for a while (for a few good reasons), and I can’t say that it’s moved up in rank. Maybe I’ll blog again sometime soon, though. </i></span></div>
Matt and Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01926040068969541936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7982874552761388252.post-80818631427027864672011-04-21T10:58:00.000-07:002011-04-21T11:27:20.253-07:00Nail Clippers and the Joys of FailingI would consider myself a pretty relaxed parent (besides the constant washing of my child's hands, and reading labels on toys to make sure the plastic is BPA free, and still not allowing food, formula, bottles, or pacifiers in her mouth) but there is one thing that sends me into a mild panic attack. <div><br /></div><div>clipping Hope's fingernails. </div><div><br /></div><div>And because she is growing at the rate of Great Dane puppy, nail clipping is not a once every 10 day excursion. </div><div><br /></div><div>It's multiple times a week. </div><div><br /></div><div>So, as I look at her nails getting longer and longer, I have this mental battle within me. "Maybe I should wait...but they're collecting dirt....maybe it's not such a big deal...but she'll scratch herself in the face with them." And finally I give in and get out the nail clippers. </div><div><br /></div><div>The first time I clipped her nails, I had Matt hold her when I did it. Here's the deal. Babies are small. Thus, they have REALLY small fingernails. It's a really tedious job. It is sort of like that game Operation I used to play as a kid, except instead of getting a red blinking nose when you make the wrong move, you get a screaming baby. </div><div><br /></div><div>Babies definitely have different cries. There's the "I'm frustrated" cry, and then there's "I'm tired" cry. But then there is the, "I am in pain" cry. And that cry is by far, THE most pitiful cry in the entire world. It makes you want to curl up in fetal position and just give up. </div><div><br /></div><div>So, you can guess what happened the first time I clipped baby Hope's nails. I got through 9 of them safely. The last nail, the left thumb. She was sleeping like a baby (obviously) and I thought I had it, but it took me about 1.35 milliseconds to realize that something had gone TERRIBLY wrong. </div><div><br /></div><div>Her eyes shot open and she let out this pitiful cry of agony. I hurt my own child. So now, of course, this sends me into hysterics. So here is poor Matt, trying to console not only Hope, but me as well. It was a mess. </div><div><br /></div><div>Eventually after Matt telling me about 20 times that I was not the worst mother in the world and that Hope in fact did not hold an everlasting grudge against me, I was able to continue with life. </div><div><br /></div><div>All too soon, nail clipping came again...and again...</div><div><br /></div><div>Okay, at 16 weeks, it's a bit easier. I clip her nails when she is on the toilet (yes, my 4 month old uses the toilet; she's been doing it from around 6 weeks), and when I feel like I can only get a good angle on 4 of the 10 fingers, I just let it be. My obsessive compulsive self just has to take a backseat and let go of the fact that my child has 6 super long nails and 4 short nails. </div><div><br /></div><div>And as with EVERY STINKIN THING in the world of parenting, there is a lesson learned. For me, the lesson is that I am not a perfect parent. Sometimes we mess up when we're clipping fingernails. Sometimes, when we're putting children into car seats, we accidentally bump their heads on the car door frame (yes this has happened too, and yes my child cried, and yes the car guard looked at me like I was the most irresponsible parent in the entire universe). </div><div><br /></div><div>But it's not going to end there. </div><div><br /></div><div>When she's 3 or 4 it will be a careless word towards her. </div><div><br /></div><div>When she is 5, it will be a frustrated look towards her when all she really needs is patience. </div><div><br /></div><div>When she's a teenager, it will be suspicion when what she needs is confidence and belief. </div><div><br /></div><div>Being a Christian is so much more real to me now than it ever was before Hope was born. Before she was born, I perceived that I didn't really need God because 9 times out of 10, I created a pretty good life for myself. Sure, I had a relationship with Him. I liked Him. I had no qualms with Him. I believed He was real (it just made sense). And I needed Him in theory. </div><div><br /></div><div>But I didn't really need Him. </div><div><br /></div><div>In these early stages of the journey of parenthood, it's more than obvious that I'm not going to be receiving the perfect parent award. And so daily, I have to throw myself at the feet of God and beg Him for mercy and beg Him to work through me. I am utterly dependent on Him to raise my daughter. </div><div><br /></div><div>I am SO thankful that I don't have this parenting thing down. And I pray that I never deceive myself into thinking that I do. I hope every child I have is so unique and different to the previous ones, so that I can never rely on my own understanding in the world of parenting. </div><div><br /></div><div>Because in my true neediness for Christ, I've seen Him show up in ways I've never experienced before. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Matt and Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01926040068969541936noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7982874552761388252.post-22047216286984546482011-04-11T08:37:00.001-07:002011-04-11T09:07:25.652-07:00Help! I go to a mediocre church!<span class="Apple-style-span" style=" border-collapse: collapse; font-family:arial, sans-serif;font-size:13px;"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; font-family:Georgia, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Well, I don't really go to a mediocre church. I actually really enjoy my church [I'm not paid to say that], and I really do enjoy waking up and seeing what Southpoint Church has on the cards each morning. </span></span></div></span><div><br /></div><div>But let's be honest, it's REALLY easy to slip into the mentality that your ministry or your church of your small group or your bible study or WHATEVER just isn't doing it for you. </div><div><br /></div><div>And then maybe you voice this to your spouse, or your roomie, or whoever will listen to your commentary on how the music was a bit pitchy today or so-and-so is actually just such a know-it-all and you just wish that they weren't in your group anymore or the pastor sort of did a prooftext today and technically that verse was out of context and blah blah blah. </div><div><br /></div><div>And then it just sort of just becomes this wildfire of complaining and everyone thinks that by complaining the world will be a better place. </div><div><br /></div><div>I was talking to some friends the other day, and we decided that there definitely IS a place for constructive criticism (I'm not advocating walking around with rose colored glasses when your church is about to implode on itself), but in my case, I tend to criticize for the sake of...well...criticizing. </div><div><br /></div><div>It's sort of like when you get a tub of Ben and Jerry's ice cream (Phish Food flavor for me) and in certain contexts it would be good to have like a couple of spoonfuls, but you actually just end up sitting there, scooping it into your mouth, bite after bite, until the pint is empty. Then you want to vomit everywhere and you realize, that wasn't a really gratifying decision, but it seemed fun at the time. That's sort of how criticism goes in my life. </div><div><br /></div><div>I read this quote the other day by A.W. Tozer in the classic "The Pursuit of God" (which everyone in the whole world should read) and it sort of sums up in my mind what makes a great church. And the thing that I realized was that great churches and great small groups and great ministries don't start with the program; they start with the people. </div><div><br /></div><div>Tozer says the following:</div><div><blockquote></blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">"Someone may fear that we are magnifying private religion out of all proportion, that the "us" of the New Testament is being displaced by a selfish "I". Has it ever occurred to you that one hundred pianos all tuned to the same fork are automatically tuned to each other? They are of one accord by being tuned, not to each other, but to another standard to which each one must individually bow. So one hundred worshippers met together, each one looking away to Christ, are in heart nearer to each other than they could possibly be were they to become "unity" conscious and turn their eyes away from God to strive for closer fellowship. Social religion is perfected when private religion is purified. The body becomes stronger as its members become healthier. The whole Church of God gains when the members that compose it begin to seek a better and higher life." </span></span></span></div><div><br /></div><div>Wow. It's simple. It's obvious. And yet, it's SO difficult for me to internalize. </div><div><br /></div><div>So when I wonder, why is [insert Christian event here] so mediocre? I'm going to ask myself first and foremost, "Is it because my relationship with Christ is just...mediocre?" </div><div><br /></div><div>Second (and secondmost?) I'm going to start to pray for the PEOPLE instead of the program. Imagine if you had a small group of people who were all tuned to God in their private lives...what would that group look like? Or on a bigger scale, what would a church or a ministry look like if everyone was tuned in to God on a regular basis? </div><div><br /></div><div>I don't actually know what it would look like, but I think it would be a pretty spectacular sight. </div>Matt and Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01926040068969541936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7982874552761388252.post-73750306754069545882011-04-09T02:28:00.000-07:002011-04-09T02:29:21.344-07:00I'm So Sorry<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small; ">Dear Friends, Family, Acquaintances, and people I don't even know:<div><br /></div><div>I owe you an apology. It's long overdue. </div><div><br /></div><div>I'm sorry for the way I've talked about you. Chances are, if you are in my close circle of friends or family, I've cast judgement on some decision you've made in the past couple of weeks, and I've probably shared that commentary with my husband in some other circle of friends of which you are not a part. That way, it won't get back to you. </div><div><br /></div><div>You may have frustrated me recently, but you wouldn't have known it. I would have just smiled and then mouthed off about you either to God, to myself, or to some other friend who won't tell you. Rather than going to you and sharing how I feel, I'd rather just keep the frustration inside because I'm too cowardly to talk to you and be transparent. Rather than believing the best about you when do something upsetting, I am suspicious of your character. Maybe I've shown you that I'm slightly upset by being passive-aggressive, but I probably would deny that there was a problem even if you asked. </div><div><br /></div><div>If you are a friend from the past or an acquaintance, I pass judgement on you, too. I look at your pictures on Facebook or hear stories through the grapevine and offer a commentary to my close friends about how stupid you are or how I would have done things differently, using your failures to elevate myself and prove to others that I'm better than you. </div><div><br /></div><div>I've probably told your secret to someone, even if it was just my husband or my mom. Even though my better judgement tells me to keep my mouth shut, I ignore it more often than not. If I haven't told your secrets, it's not because I am a faithful friend, it's probably just because over time, I forgot what you told me in the first place. </div><div><br /></div><div>To those of you I don't know, I read the news and I pass judgement on you and I talk about your incompetence. I look at the beggar on the street and first assume that he probably deserved to be where he was. I maybe even use my theology to justify what I'm saying and feeling. Maybe there's truth to what I'm saying about you, and maybe there would even be value to speaking that truth in certain contexts, but I mostly speak these "truths" with the hope that people will think I'm articulate, smart, or witty. I use your demise for my own gain. </div><div><br /></div><div>Of course, I usually pass all of this off as venting or sharing prayer requests or philosophizing. That's how I live with myself every day. I've created a carefully woven paradigm that allows for me to perpetuate the way I speak about you and feel minimal conviction that how I speak is even wrong in the first place. </div><div><br /></div><div>I just want you to know that I'm sorry. Not only am I sorry, but I am ready to strip my mind and heart of this way of living and thinking and speaking. </div><div><br /></div><div>I wish I could say that I am turning a new leaf and that is that, but the truth is, I will revert back to my old paradigm. I will talk about you again behind your back. I will cast judgement on your decisions. I will use your own mistakes and failures to elevate myself even if it means dragging your name through the mud. I'm pretty clever and have learned by now how to make sure that none of what I say gets back to you, and I'm too much of a coward to admit to you when I do mess up. </div><div><br /></div><div>But I am trying. </div><div><br /></div><div>So when we're sitting together over a latte or talking over Skype or chatting after church in a big group of friends, and when I begin to revert to this way of speaking, just gently nudge me and remind me of what it is that I'm REALLY doing. I'm not just sharing the latest news; I'm not just sharing genuine heartfelt concern for others; I'm not just venting; I'm casting the first stone; I'm removing the piece of sawdust from the eyes of my friends before I remove the plank from my own eye. </div><div><br /></div><div>And it may be hard for you to remind me. It may feel awkward. You may be younger than me and it may feel strange to bring this to my attention. God forbid, you may be interested in hearing this nugget of information that I'm about to share with you and ready to proverbially stone the person with me. But think about the wellbeing of the people that I'm about to slay with my words, and remind me of my potential sin for their sake. Because tomorrow you may be the person that I target with harsh words, and you'd want want the person listening to me to stop me before I even begin. </div><div><br /></div><div>Thanks for listening. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; "><p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">All kinds of animals, birds, reptiles and creatures of the sea are being tamed and have been tamed by man, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">but no man can tame the tongue. It is a restless evil, full of deadly poison. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; ">With the tongue we praise our Lord and Father, and with it we curse men, who have been made in God’s likeness. Out of the same mouth come praise and cursing. My brothers, this should not be. Can both fresh water and salt water flow from the same spring? My brothers, can a fig tree bear olives, or a grapevine bear figs? Neither can a salt spring produce fresh water. James 3: 7-12</span></p></span></div></span>Matt and Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01926040068969541936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7982874552761388252.post-35248704796681665022011-01-20T10:48:00.000-08:002011-01-20T10:57:03.799-08:00Theology and Childbirth?<p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">I once heard a rumor that Katie Holmes wasn't allowed to scream during childbirth because it was against her and Tom Cruise's religion...</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">I don't know if that is true, but if it is true, and if I were Katie Holmes, I'd be in big big trouble. </span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">Apparently there is such thing as a painless childbirth. Mine wasn't one of those. I experienced a lot of pain, both during and after the birth itself. Now, granted, a lot of that pain was what I'd label "manageable". Some people look at me in disbelief at the fact that I was in labor for 16 hours sans medication. I can't really toot my own horn over that fact. The first 14 hours were very much manageable and simply could be controlled with a mind over matter mentality (it reminded me a lot of my years as a dancer. There were plenty of times where I didn't get that lambs wool in my pointe shoe just right and suffered the consequences of my toes scraping against the side of my shoe as I balanced my 120 lbs on top of it. Alas, the show must go on, despite bloody, blistery toes...that's mind over matter for you.). </span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">But...those last two hours were unprecedented pain in my book. Mind over matter went out the window at that point and it just became survival mode. I mean, I seriously thought it would never end. I felt like I was at the end of my rope and that I just couldn't go on. </span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">When all was said and done and Hope was here with us on the outside, my thoughts immediately gravitated towards the spiritual aspect of childbirth. The Bible talks about childbirth and uses it to paint a picture for its readers. Now, don't ask me how Paul was fully acquainted with the pains of birthing children when he wrote this, but now that I've experienced it first hand, the following verses take on a fresh perspective for me. </span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 16.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">...that the creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the freedom and glory of the children of God. We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption to sonship, the redemption of our bodies...</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 16.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">There's very few times where life is painless. There always seems to be something, doesn't there? You can call it life, you can call it bad karma, or anything else you'd like. I call it sin. We live in a broken world run by broken people. We can literally feel in our bones (more often than not) that something just isn't right. And like childbirth, we try to numb the pain (but talk to any mother who has had a medicated birth, and she won't tell you that it was painless, either). No matter how hard we try, we can't get away from the pain. We'll never be able to numb it enough, ignore it enough, or tell ourselves enough that it's just mind over matter. At some point in our lives, we'll sit where I sat in those last 2 hours, wondering if the pain will ever end. </span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 16.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">I think that's why this picture in the Bible is so encouraging now being on the other side of birth. Because I know...the pain does end. And when it ends, nothing else matters. </span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 16.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">You see, the beauty of childbirth, which can't often be said for other painful experiences in life, is that the reward after the pain is instantaneous. I sit in pain for 2 hours, wondering if I will survive, and then a miracle is placed on my chest. I forget the pain and it's all a dream. My life that was completely entrenched in this pain is but a vapor, and my new life with this beautiful gift is here. </span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 16.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">I imagine that is what it will be like when we meet Jesus. The pain in our lives, in our bodies, and in our souls will be like a dream. It won't matter anymore. The pain that so often defines our lives, the pain that we spend so much time trying to drown or numb or ignore will mean nothing anymore. </span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 16.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">So...what have I learned from all of this? </span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 16.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">I don't want to spend my life trying to numb the pain life will inevitably bring. I don't want to try and drown it out with money or entertainment or stature. It's not worth it because I know that while it's not as immediate as the gift of a child, there is a great miracle waiting on the other side of this life. </span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 16.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">Rather, what I want to do with my life is embrace the fact that there is pain and trust that God has given me the grace to endure it. </span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 16.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">My pain is gone and my reward is here...Hope. But maybe if you're reading this, the pain of life is still here and there's no light at the end of the tunnel. If you're of the persuasion that there's anything to who Jesus said he was, then I hope you remember that there is a miracle waiting for you, and it very well may not come in this lifetime, but when it does come, all that pain will be but a distant memory. </span></p>Matt and Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01926040068969541936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7982874552761388252.post-52686670697804109302010-12-31T12:11:00.000-08:002010-12-31T12:59:08.739-08:00My Birth StoryOne blog does not suffice to cover the many lessons I've learned already in this new journey. But I think it's important to share these lessons publicly for a few reasons. <div><br /><div>1) Documentation and conversation about lessons learned helps us better grow as people. </div><div>2) Positive stories encourage others. </div><div>3) My story is atypical. </div><div><br /></div><div>So, I'll begin by documenting my actual birth. I think it's important to share my birth story because one of the most encouraging things for me when I was pregnant was hearing positive birth stories. I don't know if everything ever goes 100% planned for anyone, and there's no point on dwelling on things that didn't go according to plan in a birth, so my story is mainly in hopes of giving yet another perspective to those in the future who will give birth. </div><div><br /></div><div>During my pregnancy, I was conspicuously absent from my blog, mainly because the road was so difficult and I didn't have much to say about it. So, I plodded along in silence, wondering what childbirth and parenthood would have to bring. </div></div><div><br /></div><div>I spent most of my days being a student of birth, learning about different types of birth and reading all the schools of thought (and there's a lot, and there are diehard advocates on all sides). I decided that I wanted to try for a natural birth, but from what I had learned, the desire for a natural birth doesn't necessitate that it is carried into reality. </div><div><br /></div><div>So, I started doing various exercises to help strengthen my body for a natural birth, going to antenatal classes with Matt, reading various books with Matt and spending hours in discussion with him about what we hoped to happen and how we could best achieve those hopes. </div><div><br /></div><div>At the end of the pregnancy, I felt as if I'd done all I could do, and I just had to go forward with whatever happened, trusting God with the rest, whether it was what I expected or not. </div><div><br /></div><div>Monday morning (27 December) at 6am, my water broke. I figured it would either then be today or the next day that our baby would be born. Matt and I began timing contractions and spent the morning cleaning up the house. We eventually phoned our midwife around lunchtime to let her know that she'd probably be spending the evening with us. </div><div><br /></div><div>Hours went by and finally our midwife phoned us and asked us to come in the hospital at 4:30pm to check out and see what the baby was doing. If all was good, then she'd send me home where I'd continue my labor until it intensified. At this point, contractions were 6 minutes apart and lasting about 45 seconds, and they were very much manageable. At the hospital, the baby's heart rate, my temp, and my blood pressure all checked out. So, my midwife sent me home. </div><div><br /></div><div>After a dinner of delicious burritos (around 8pm), my labor kicked in with contractions 2 minutes apart, 30 seconds long. Matt and I decided that it was time to check into the hospital. Contractions were difficult, but still manageable. During earlier contractions, I could still talk through them and move around a bit, but with these, I had to focus until they passed. </div><div><br /></div><div>At the hospital, I continued to labor in a birthing tub and then with a birthing ball. Around 10:30, the pain became what I would consider unbearable. I fought while laboring for about a half an hour and then began to beg for medicine. My lovely husband, remembering my desire for a natural birth, helped me put off medicine for another half an hour, but finally allowed me to consider medicine after much begging and pleading from my side :)</div><div><br /></div><div>At this point, an epidural was out of the question. I was a centimeter from pushing. But, there was an injection that I could have that would help my cervix finish dilating. The only problem was that my midwife had to give me the injection SLOWLY and I couldn't move. Ironically, right when she began the injection, I also began a contraction, and so she got through less than 1/4 of the injection before she had to stop and take out the needle (try sitting still during a contraction...it's near impossible). </div><div><br /></div><div>Then, she said I could breathe some pain killing gas during a contraction to ease some of the pain. So, during the next contraction, I tried, but after 2 breaths, I hyperventilated and had to stop the gas. So much for medicine. </div><div><br /></div><div>They say that during labor there are different stages, and that one of these stages is where you want to give up and think you can't do another contraction. This stage of labor is also the shortest stage and gives way to pushing, which, in some ways, is easier. Even though I knew all this in theory, I really wanted to give up. I didn't know how I would make it through another contraction. </div><div><br /></div><div>But, just like the textbooks say, right when I was ready to give up, I was ready to push. Pushing a baby out with no meds is hard work, and I really cannot take any credit for my whopping 20 minutes of pushing or lack of need for stitches. That credit goes all to my amazing midwife who knew how to coach me and my amazing husband who stood with me and encouraged me with every contraction. </div><div><br /></div><div>After all that pain, all that self-doubt, all that wondering as to whether it was worth it, the moment of culmination arrived. I remember screaming because it hurt so much and then a split second later my midwife saying, "Rachel, hold your baby," and she plopped this wet, warm little creature up onto my chest. Her eyes were open and she didn't cry. She just looked at me and Matt and moved around a little bit.</div><div><br /></div><div>After 9 months filled with nausea, insecurity about my not-so-skinny self, self-doubt about choosing a child over a career, and wondering if I was crazy in the first place for getting pregnant at such a young age, it all culminated in this one moment. The nausea is but a memory. Yes, it was worth every stretch mark. Yes, a baby is worth more than any career could be for me. And no...I was not crazy for getting pregnant at a whopping age 23. </div><div><br /></div><div>So, I guess what I'm saying in all of this is that pregnancy was no bed of roses, and neither is a natural birth (although I'm happy I did it and I'd do it again in a heartbeat-but that's another post for another day), but what great miracles require no pain? I can't think of any. Hope Brianna Hastings is no different. It was a painful journey for me (and I'm sure it was for her too!) but she is our little miracle and she was well worth it. </div>Matt and Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01926040068969541936noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7982874552761388252.post-71105223778273611902010-10-03T05:03:00.000-07:002010-10-03T05:30:42.629-07:00Book Review/Life ReviewNow that the nausea has abated, I'm back into my habit of daily reading. I just finished up a great book by Donald Miller titled <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">A Million Miles in a Thousand Years</span>. In a roundabout way, you could categorize the book as a "guide to story writing" but it's more about life than anything else. <div><br /><div>The question that permeates the pages is, "What kind of story are you writing with your life?". In his usual amusing and thought-provoking manner, Miller challenges the reader to live more than just a boring life focused on comfort, but rather to embrace difficulty and conflict and to write a life story bigger than one's self. </div><div><br /></div><div>The book spoke specifically into my life as I prepare to bring a new life into this world. One of the quotes I loved was the following:</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">As I've said before, the main way we learn story is not through movies or books; it's through each other. You become like the people you interact with. And if your friends are living boring stories, you probably will too. We teach our children good and bad stories, what is worth living for and what is worth dying for, what is worth pursuing, and the dignity with which a character engages his own narrative. </span></div><div><br /></div><div>Whether baby Hastings likes it or not, it's getting thrown into the middle of my story, a story that will drastically affect this little baby for better or for worse. And while I am well aware that an aspiration of perfection is delusional, it has at least caused me to critically think about the "WHY" of my story, rather than just the "what". </div><div><br /></div><div>So, thoughts such as the following have floated in my head over the past few days...</div><div><ul><li>Why do I shy away from conflict and confrontation? </li><li>Why do I spend my free time mindlessly reading news articles on the computer (or on Facebook)?</li><li>Why do I get so worried about making people upset? Why am I a people pleaser?</li><li>Why do I worry the way I do?</li><li>Why do I refuse to engage with certain emotions that I feel?</li></ul><div>And so while I've learned to live pretty comfortably with these realities (many years of practice), baby Hastings is a blank slate. And when baby Hastings watches how I react in a conflict, it will learn from me. When it watches how I spend my free time, it will follow suit. When it watches me worry...well, you see where I'm going with this. </div><div><br /></div><div>Like I said earlier, it's the "why" rather than the "what" that I've been mulling over. I'm not as concerned with what exciting things I'm doing or what adventures I experience, but rather why I interact with life the way I do, regardless of circumstances. </div><div><br /></div></div><div>So, there you go. If you want thought-provoking, easy reading, then take a couple days to chew on <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">A Million Miles in a Thousand Years</span>. Whether your in a situation like me, about to move into completely uncharted territory, or if you're in a season of consistency and stability, this book is one that will challenge you to live for something bigger than your own personal comfort. </div></div>Matt and Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01926040068969541936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7982874552761388252.post-54245159140970469672010-09-26T10:40:00.000-07:002010-09-26T12:07:45.278-07:0023 and PregnantThis has been an interesting 5 months in the Hastings' home. The biggest news in our lives is that I, Rachel, am pregnant with our first child! <div><br /></div><div>I've been conspicuously absent from the blogging world due to a 2 month stint of perpetual morning sickness (which, by the way, is by no means confined to morning hours). </div><div><br /></div><div>During the months of August and September (as the nausea abated a bit), I rebuilt my chaotic personal life, friendships, and home. Sadly, the blog was just one of those last priorities, but I think it's time to reenter the blogging world. </div><div><br /></div><div>I figured I'd begin with a post about some interesting aspects of pregnancy. I imagine that at least SOME of you are curious about what it's like to be pregnant. I mean, statistically, I'm very much a minority. I'm a 23 year old married girl who is planning on raising a child in 2011 and beyond. Crazy, right?</div><div><br /></div><div>So, here's what I've learned thus far...</div><div><br /></div><div>1) <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">EVERYONE'S experience is different.</span> I have a great friend who is pregnant as well, and boy have we had COMPLETELY different pregnancies! My friend hasn't been very sick during her pregnancy. I, on the other hand, have probably thrown up more during a two month period than I have in my entire life combined. Furthermore, everyone has a suggestion of what worked to curb their nausea during pregnancy; those suggestions, by no means, are prescriptive suggestions. You just can't put pregnancy into a strict formula...</div><div><br /></div><div>2) <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Your body does strange things. </span> Seriously, if you have questions about this, ask me in private, because something tells me that I should not get into my bodily function issues on my blog. But your gastrointestinal tract, bladder, stomach, and brain just do a lot of really really strange things. And many times, those changes are uncomfortable and sometimes painful. </div><div><br /></div><div>The common factor, though, is that you're not in control of a single one of those changes. Being young and healthy, this has been an interesting change for me, and I can't say I've dealt with it gracefully at all times. People often laugh this concern off when I express it with them. "But you're carrying such a wonderful miracle in you!" they say. And while theoretically I am very aware of this, it doesn't lessen the reality that I am out of control of my body. </div><div><br /></div><div>The implications of that truth have genuinely tested my paradigm. Where do I place my value? Is it in what I look like? In other words, do I equate my value with what I look like and what I'm able to do? Unfortunately, if I value myself because of my body shape or physical capability, my perceived value proves quite unstable, as it is contingent on outside circumstances. </div><div><br /></div><div>3) <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Pregnancy is a TWO person journey. </span>I know there are plenty of single moms out there, and I honestly don't know how they do it. You are my heroes; my respect for you is just out of this world. </div><div><br /></div><div>If I didn't have Matt here, I think I would have just curled up in fetal position and given up. There are days where he'd come home and my day pretty much consisted of me laying on the couch holding my stomach in pain. No housework done, no shopping done, no dinner planned. So, after a nice 8 hour day, Matt then played housewife. </div><div><br /></div><div>I really don't have the ability to overstate the contribution Matt made to our partnership during those rough months of nausea. It was really a time where Matt had to give 200% because I was giving 0%. But, being on the other side of that dark season now, my respect for Matt's character has grown exponentially. He's a good guy. </div><div><br /></div><div>4) <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Do the research yourself</span>. Really, don't get me started on this one. This is my soapbox of note. I am an avid researcher, so I had been researching pregnancy and birth well before I was pregnant (Sept./Oct. 2009). </div><div><br /></div><div>Sometimes I feel like I'm in the Twilight Zone because I've literally watched the motherhood and pregnancy articles that pepper mainstream news transform before my eyes. How is it that no more than a year ago, once you'd had a C-Section, you'd always have a C-Section? Now, though, the latest "research" is that it's actually BETTER for the majority of women to try to have a natural birth after they've had a C-Section? Why, all of the sudden, is mainstream media taking an unprecedented interest in breast milk and its benefits over formula or skin to skin contact immediately after birth or the increased number of induced labors in America? </div><div><br /></div><div>I know many of those on the natural end of the spectrum would love to equate it to the many grassroots movements that promote natural ideology, but this research isn't groundbreaking or new. Dr. Bradley, among others, has been saying this stuff since the '70s (Husband Coached Child Birth by Dr. Bradley is a great read, by the way). </div><div><br /></div><div>Sadly, I tend to subscribe to the philosophy from <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Aladdin </span>that whoever has the gold makes the rules. Whoever has the gold also spins the news. More specifically, whoever has to fork over the gold for expensive medical procedures spins the news...and you can read into that whatever you'd like. </div><div><br /></div><div>The point of this all, however, is to just do the research yourself. There's so much raw data and studies from decades of research available at your fingertips! Don't just let someone else tell you how this entire pregnancy and birth thing is supposed to go down. </div><div><br /></div><div>and finally...</div><div><br /></div><div>5) <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">It's okay not to feel attached to this stranger in your belly. </span>I really struggled not feeling any emotional attachment to this baby. I saw so many of my friends who were pregnant and they seemed so excited about their growing babies. I honestly can't say that I feel like that. In one sense, I know there is this separate being growing inside of me, with a completely different volition than my own (I mean seriously, when I want to sleep, the baby wants to be awake. Even now, I can't make this being do anything!), yet I don't feel any attachment to it. </div><div><br /></div><div>I felt rather worried, so I did what any mature, independent woman would do. I called my mom. Looks like you never stop needing a mom :) She really eased my fears, telling me that she sort of felt the same way while she was pregnant with me but that once I was born, her mothering instincts kicked in. That's good to know, because I don't feel very "instinctive" at this moment in time. </div><div><br /></div><div>So, I've sort of accepted my emotions toward the baby for what they are. I'm not worried anymore that I don't feel like this baby is MY BABY. I still wrestle with the idea of loving someone that I've never met before, but I don't expect myself to understand that yet. </div><div>.......................</div><div><br /></div><div>So that's what I've learned so far. Take it or leave it. It may have been completely different for you, or it may be completely different for you one day :) </div><div><br /></div><div>It's been a season of reevaluating my paradigm. It's been a season where God has revealed Himself in new and very real ways (for me, unprecedented ways). I wouldn't label it blissful or even enjoyable, but I would call it special, and I wouldn't trade it. </div>Matt and Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01926040068969541936noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7982874552761388252.post-81602049344048312852010-03-23T09:50:00.000-07:002010-03-23T10:38:01.397-07:00SUSHI!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjllC8MiYH2vCXOrm4aqWN2zF12UyjdsEbJtGuWNkqtT3c2LcCXRsVfAcvSt9Ad7zKzX-dH00xwoMquZT3sjI3zlWXjuW23uZRom6MNARL3t4YRDjMrJscze5nky18Vm5eHcHPr9ttxQR4/s1600-h/DSC00240.jpg"></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggSTySvmHvjtQnxn2ry7JQ1uPghPPYssBoyeiYaWBrCBN4_Zg6od5JJu3HSTwrtRwtEK3oixcHOXacQbcgHJUna5e2vAa6UgySUaiwJVatC72TQ5kuSSRv-tC4-3UYtcIM4K8Z4ON49Vo/s1600-h/DSC00239.jpg"></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKZ6i9oJmgG1UooNoVoe367Uhx5NNHUySdrpwwacIku09o9-x8IfMtcSCaKc3IbUxN42xvL2U9I8i0go3Od0U2SHFPZ-1azfUFkHJKffwonGuf3_h2E12m0d0g-9IRM11CDeR_tViPKQU/s1600-h/DSC00235.jpg"></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSYfHWxK1EX8JG0P2PYJ9eQ0xKWL_PinvXVmPS4y1f88VobeK27300eGbNYaejAGxwBVTCfm8ROIGRjTgfN3lLgvsIwIDgpfIQZjBnko_auUL-qFRoidk1ZglcM8VdcDyv5Szrj6V7wBc/s1600-h/DSC00245.jpg"></a><div>Earlier this month, we decided that we'd indulge our creative culinary skills and try our hand at sushi. Sushi chefs only have to study for three years on how to create perfectly sticky sushi rice, so it can't be that hard, right?<div><br /></div><div>But we didn't want all of our blog readers to miss out, so we documented the experience with our little camera!</div><div><br /></div></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTH5qgxBiAxJRQdUE-cXBmli4_bWPyVTQJukun_c6CAgstTgHoGnT92Mksfrtlp928bGq7omSar5Ou9jZSkwvl3EkncPxsd_nF2btRBUXRLnSOD-fAUoEfTHiDfQCy_2s9kgi5iB2yiLs/s1600-h/DSC00217.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTH5qgxBiAxJRQdUE-cXBmli4_bWPyVTQJukun_c6CAgstTgHoGnT92Mksfrtlp928bGq7omSar5Ou9jZSkwvl3EkncPxsd_nF2btRBUXRLnSOD-fAUoEfTHiDfQCy_2s9kgi5iB2yiLs/s320/DSC00217.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451879361568907490" /></a><div><br /></div><div>First things first. There's a lot of prep work for sushi. Since I don't have such a great track record with knives, Matt opted for veggie prep. I worked on the rice.</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitp9PacZ8oMA__TbCD3egj0qpd4CBPjs9xl9ai5AjCxxJRsu6vjCrTgiKTyVAQAsi2RF3J1nzATsZkhBP2SWP936cjBQTlF4RRJ6ay2Sc5Tsx1pi-vihSCx83VDfWpE8-RnpH0NbtnBgo/s1600-h/DSC00220.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitp9PacZ8oMA__TbCD3egj0qpd4CBPjs9xl9ai5AjCxxJRsu6vjCrTgiKTyVAQAsi2RF3J1nzATsZkhBP2SWP936cjBQTlF4RRJ6ay2Sc5Tsx1pi-vihSCx83VDfWpE8-RnpH0NbtnBgo/s320/DSC00220.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451879837960243714" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a><br /><div><br /></div></div><div>In order for your rice to come out at the proper consistency, you have to wash it until the water drains off clear. Then it sits for an hour like that. Here's a picture of the freshly rinsed sushi rice. </div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqh2st79SV7vxFSsANm3SeHxUjTRRt2Tg2RXyVLvN2x1899j9brRbbBOtFRFmirlS9F_65oVbhHhWOyOSbvy8cr6-Y51Sq6w9yAPpOSTMj5llGgGYvvT8_qmbwUN3t80VQbQJJAAwWhYI/s1600-h/DSC00224.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqh2st79SV7vxFSsANm3SeHxUjTRRt2Tg2RXyVLvN2x1899j9brRbbBOtFRFmirlS9F_65oVbhHhWOyOSbvy8cr6-Y51Sq6w9yAPpOSTMj5llGgGYvvT8_qmbwUN3t80VQbQJJAAwWhYI/s320/DSC00224.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451880696468417538" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a><div><br /></div></div><div>Capetonians, we bought sushi rice from Woolworths...but there's a Chinese supermarket at N1 City where you can get it A LOT cheaper (thanks to the advice of the Morris Family). <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">Tip #1: But you may want to opt for the more expensive Woolies on your first go around with sushi because the cooking directions on the back of the bag make for some perfect sushi rice!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRGEm7Ua6vWI4zNiMRBL8Rvs6ae2YST1fjaykFv720f_QgerHwGQyzl_FqTLiklR9rnCzcdGJzNg0hdKvn6gBGrHBgKMjN9EDQLTUXEF0nenLknJnDetv6gfRxLpoOGrrG2eskjJOre2o/s1600-h/DSC00223.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRGEm7Ua6vWI4zNiMRBL8Rvs6ae2YST1fjaykFv720f_QgerHwGQyzl_FqTLiklR9rnCzcdGJzNg0hdKvn6gBGrHBgKMjN9EDQLTUXEF0nenLknJnDetv6gfRxLpoOGrrG2eskjJOre2o/s320/DSC00223.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451882203229411586" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a><div><br /></div></span></span></div><div>Below, you'll see the sushi creation space I put together for us. The rice, the goodies for inside, the seaweed, sushi mats, and a bowl of water for dipping the fingers. Sushi rice is STICKY!</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib6d-uT4v7dgUENRgGCUxcW-ZUkepqs6fxOvdYGcvFoY26YQcN6wWeyerBky2yXclhXrjot-v_54PYpcm0J3UCSd05ChU9lgGgA9wixH3gw4mbtVsiO2KXsrBuMNPBvBbspHce3r0Zn7Y/s1600-h/DSC00234.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib6d-uT4v7dgUENRgGCUxcW-ZUkepqs6fxOvdYGcvFoY26YQcN6wWeyerBky2yXclhXrjot-v_54PYpcm0J3UCSd05ChU9lgGgA9wixH3gw4mbtVsiO2KXsrBuMNPBvBbspHce3r0Zn7Y/s320/DSC00234.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451881020583966434" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a><div><br /></div></div><div>From here, it's pretty simple. Spoon out some rice, press it all over the seaweed with wet fingers (leaving a few centimeters at the top of the seaweed empty), make a small indentation at the bottom, and fill the inside with whatever you'd like!</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKZ6i9oJmgG1UooNoVoe367Uhx5NNHUySdrpwwacIku09o9-x8IfMtcSCaKc3IbUxN42xvL2U9I8i0go3Od0U2SHFPZ-1azfUFkHJKffwonGuf3_h2E12m0d0g-9IRM11CDeR_tViPKQU/s320/DSC00235.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451883986552163250" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></div><div><br /></div><div>Ok, now for the apex of the experience...rolling the sushi! Wet the strip at the top of the seaweed with your finger, and then, SLOWLY, roll up your sushi roll. As you can see, once it's rolled, you squeeze it for a few seconds in the sushi matt, as my husband demonstrates so wonderfully!</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaLAV7UEgH_-3llCun0piFIBp4xDBpNGDVkN0oGjWTTvZq3dySnpgWr8Qxip3SZyRnnofj-o1IYT9JTsUbGtfwmCTiMOvwSg3EEX3bR5A7TAModtbAF4rew_hv4PnMcRUom_IvTnYPri0/s1600-h/DSC00236.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaLAV7UEgH_-3llCun0piFIBp4xDBpNGDVkN0oGjWTTvZq3dySnpgWr8Qxip3SZyRnnofj-o1IYT9JTsUbGtfwmCTiMOvwSg3EEX3bR5A7TAModtbAF4rew_hv4PnMcRUom_IvTnYPri0/s320/DSC00236.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451882561599959042" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjllC8MiYH2vCXOrm4aqWN2zF12UyjdsEbJtGuWNkqtT3c2LcCXRsVfAcvSt9Ad7zKzX-dH00xwoMquZT3sjI3zlWXjuW23uZRom6MNARL3t4YRDjMrJscze5nky18Vm5eHcHPr9ttxQR4/s1600-h/DSC00240.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjllC8MiYH2vCXOrm4aqWN2zF12UyjdsEbJtGuWNkqtT3c2LcCXRsVfAcvSt9Ad7zKzX-dH00xwoMquZT3sjI3zlWXjuW23uZRom6MNARL3t4YRDjMrJscze5nky18Vm5eHcHPr9ttxQR4/s320/DSC00240.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451884647032690994" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a><br /></div><div>And there you go! Sushi roll! Now you just cut it with a nice sharp knife. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;">Tip #2: Make sure to have a damp cloth to wipe the knife between each cut. It makes it easier!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggSTySvmHvjtQnxn2ry7JQ1uPghPPYssBoyeiYaWBrCBN4_Zg6od5JJu3HSTwrtRwtEK3oixcHOXacQbcgHJUna5e2vAa6UgySUaiwJVatC72TQ5kuSSRv-tC4-3UYtcIM4K8Z4ON49Vo/s320/DSC00239.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451884309971678786" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></span></div><div><br /></div><div>Finally, you eat!</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSYfHWxK1EX8JG0P2PYJ9eQ0xKWL_PinvXVmPS4y1f88VobeK27300eGbNYaejAGxwBVTCfm8ROIGRjTgfN3lLgvsIwIDgpfIQZjBnko_auUL-qFRoidk1ZglcM8VdcDyv5Szrj6V7wBc/s1600-h/DSC00245.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSYfHWxK1EX8JG0P2PYJ9eQ0xKWL_PinvXVmPS4y1f88VobeK27300eGbNYaejAGxwBVTCfm8ROIGRjTgfN3lLgvsIwIDgpfIQZjBnko_auUL-qFRoidk1ZglcM8VdcDyv5Szrj6V7wBc/s320/DSC00245.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451882928713997522" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaLAV7UEgH_-3llCun0piFIBp4xDBpNGDVkN0oGjWTTvZq3dySnpgWr8Qxip3SZyRnnofj-o1IYT9JTsUbGtfwmCTiMOvwSg3EEX3bR5A7TAModtbAF4rew_hv4PnMcRUom_IvTnYPri0/s1600-h/DSC00236.jpg"></a></div><div>.................................................</div><div>Review of experience:</div><div>After our first experience, Matt and I have made a few tweaks that we have since tried and find them to be quite helpful!</div><div><br /></div><div>1) <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Less is more with the rice</span></b>. Seriously, you don't need to pile the rice really high on the seaweed. The overall taste was much better of the sushi when we put a thinner layer of rice. </div><div><br /></div><div>2) <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Woolworth's wasabi paste is a no g</span></b><b>o</b>. Go to the Chinese supermarket, pick up some Wasabi powder and make your own. Firstly, it's cheaper, and secondly, Woolworth's wasabi paste is NOT HOT. BOOO!!!</div><div><br /></div><div>3) <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Ginger and sesame seeds are not just compliments, but necessities.</span></b> The first time we thought they weren't necessary; we'd just use soy and wasabi. But the sesame seeds and ginger make it so much better! Buy the pickled ginger (we got ours from Woolworths), toast some sesame seeds on a frying pan, and it will make the sushi experience go from good to great!</div><div>...................................................</div><div><br /></div><div>Oh! And one more thing! Did you make a few too many rolls? <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;">Tip #3: Wrap the uncut rolls in saran wrap and put them in the fridge. You can eat them the next day and they still taste great!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;"><br /></span></div><div>Anybody else tried to make their own sushi? Any advice? Feel free to comment!</div><div><br /></div>Matt and Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01926040068969541936noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7982874552761388252.post-36632962795997102632010-03-01T05:13:00.000-08:002010-03-01T06:24:25.581-08:002010 Adventures!<div style="text-align: left;">With a little help from my tech savvy husband, I am now going to upload some beautiful pictures that I've amassed over the past month! For those of you who are Americans reading this blog, maybe it will entice you to take a journey over the Atlantic!</div><div><br /></div><div>Adventure #1: <a href="http://www.oldmutual.co.za/about-us/sponsorship/arts-and-lifestyle/kirstenbosch-concerts.aspx">Kirstenbosch Summer Concerts</a></div><a href="http://www.oldmutual.co.za/about-us/sponsorship/arts-and-lifestyle/kirstenbosch-concerts.aspx"><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0AUTy-Nk4G7xrHcKo9HsgxaMUtDqPhWHJqnh4rJMfytu3-49F6wozPd6RjGKzN4aZTBIxFu742kq8ftFDu9B7rRe1uvSlzEH9QUjvyzHr-htvOPLJoyfGubsSN1QuX3cbWls51obGtu8/s1600-h/DSC00108.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0AUTy-Nk4G7xrHcKo9HsgxaMUtDqPhWHJqnh4rJMfytu3-49F6wozPd6RjGKzN4aZTBIxFu742kq8ftFDu9B7rRe1uvSlzEH9QUjvyzHr-htvOPLJoyfGubsSN1QuX3cbWls51obGtu8/s320/DSC00108.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443660669572441122" /></a><div><br /></div><div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnICjVfra8pQS4dw3jeGCDGJ939LjezqVvpzzLQd9fhfRPnSckvUE_VOBXZW-tgifyPIHX1ydNJJ7mdg_ick-5wpQZWCMc-wIehV46mKKPuriiOA5_9qBIRTdkCA8Y5Svu-1E6v4wv7uc/s1600-h/DSC00113.jpg"></a><div>A couple of weeks ago, Matt and I went to a summer concert at Kirstenbosch. Our friends, Andrew and Hannah, are adventure seekers, too, and they always have cool ideas for fun-filled days. </div><div><br /></div><div>What we didn't know was at the concert they would be having a display of snakes that we were able to hold! This is the Burmese Python that Matt and I had the opportunity hold. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnICjVfra8pQS4dw3jeGCDGJ939LjezqVvpzzLQd9fhfRPnSckvUE_VOBXZW-tgifyPIHX1ydNJJ7mdg_ick-5wpQZWCMc-wIehV46mKKPuriiOA5_9qBIRTdkCA8Y5Svu-1E6v4wv7uc/s1600-h/DSC00113.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnICjVfra8pQS4dw3jeGCDGJ939LjezqVvpzzLQd9fhfRPnSckvUE_VOBXZW-tgifyPIHX1ydNJJ7mdg_ick-5wpQZWCMc-wIehV46mKKPuriiOA5_9qBIRTdkCA8Y5Svu-1E6v4wv7uc/s320/DSC00113.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443660201829693522" /></a>I remember learning in science class that reptiles are not slimy, but in fact quite cool to the touch. This big guy felt like one big bulging bicep! He was not slimy, but he was strong! The scary thing is that the snake gets cold so he begins to wrap himself around your legs and torso to keep warm. I didn't feel like he was going to constrict me, but I'd be lying if I said that I didn't have the fear flash through my mind a couple of times as I was holding him!</div><div><br /></div><div>The concert was fun, but the snake holding was quite an adventure for me!<br /><br /></div><div>After that trip, a team of North Point staff came over and visited us! Matt and I had a great time taking two of the guys, Donny and Shef, all around Cape Town. </div><div><br /></div><div>Adventure #2 Cape Point</div><div>Obviously, we took Donny and Shef to <a href="http://www.capepoint.co.za/">Cape Point</a>, because it's one of those places that you've gotta see if you come!</div><div><br /></div><div>That day, the baboons seemed to be out in full force! </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRhfxAcx2lQh-dPSTuHc3EE_iJHJYjtnekuma_mxRVWQv_CFf8EGsDPnVq6tOs5qPSmkhkkwx68WaS4vHPiiAGzICIs5TyK-kN6EDNDYf-vCjZ6VT_oejITzAB4ZoBB2TXetTBlpmcTmw/s320/DSC00122.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443666847147722994" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /><div>This guy is just chillin' out on a sign, which I thought was pretty cool. As you can tell from the picture, I'm still in my car. For those of you who aren't familiar with baboons, they're cool to look at from the safety of your vehicle, but you don't want to try and make friends with them. They have anger issues.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKU32OseI0yXGjN-U8qtOsTG76Snoj737izZfPQWUpeI5kuxTco9Ib43DsC9KY3KodRNBBpzJJZiGlgcv6PFo5IfjwjRDShgZ7iUXavQjkbqwk5qmwd6_J8aUSx8pKJj89AJOp_J1THWo/s320/DSC00141.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443667576476833458" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>The babies, of course, are adorable, so I couldn't help but snap this picture! But as cute as the babies are, there are some things about baboons that aren't so cute...check out the next picture. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyWhRZMwQduY8V2FaWlZe5Eitr9oWLQMiq6QbTca9GtPFVm5RL08R3LQfRwacDW1Bb_7XCUP0hbe7XjCzd6UCaUJeX3Gwh8FA-x0yI_WWfE0tquMMpNQP9_ELZEAATXot85tC8tEqN43Q/s320/DSC00131.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443668151867035474" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">Now you may not be able to see it very well right now, but check out the big guy, far left in the picture. His butt looks a little strange, doesn't it? That's because some baboons have the unfortunate lot of having what I'd like to call "an infected butt." It's really disgusting, and there's always at least one in every pack who has a very very nasty looking behind. The picture doesn't do justice to the nastiness of what's going on back there. Trust me. </span></span></div><div><br /></div><div>Shef has an awesome blog that you can check out <a href="http://coachshef.com/">here</a>. He is the Director of Middle School at all of North Point's campuses. Unlike in America, South Africa doesn't have a middle school, so even though our ministry here is technically "high school", we have kids that are middle-school-aged that attend our high school program, InsideOut. </div><div><br /></div><div>Kendra, the Director of Children's Ministries at North Point spent some time with us as well! She's really an awesome woman and Matt and I learned tons from her! She just posted an awesome blog about her experiences in Cape Town that you can read <a href="http://insidenorthpoint.org/kids/2010/02/26/a-trip-to-south-africa/">here</a>. </div><div><br /></div><div>Well, I'm all blogged out. All of this uploading of photos and HTML coding (thanks to my new knowledge I gleaned from Morgan and Gary) is wiping me out! Stay tuned for more adventures and, hopefully, more pictures! </div></div></div></div>Matt and Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01926040068969541936noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7982874552761388252.post-62087129996994924292010-01-08T06:57:00.000-08:002010-01-08T07:45:29.811-08:00Of Mice and Maggots<div><div>This story starts during our trip in America. Matt and I were traversing through the beautiful aisles of Target, a simple pleasure on American soil that I have come to value greatly since moving to Cape Town, when we received a phone call. Apparently there was a waterfall coming down the stairs of our apartment complex that was originating from our front door. Who knew a small leak from the hose of a washing machine could create such a deluge after weeks of neglect? Thankfully, a few of our friends raced over to our flat, opened our flat, turned off the water, and cleaned up the mess. We have tile floors, luckily, so nothing was damaged except for the wood under our cabinets. </div><div><br /></div><div>Fast forward to two weeks after arriving back in Cape Town. </div><div><br /></div><div>As I'm sitting in the silence of a beautiful summer afternoon, I notice ants in our lounge. Now, I don't have a particular problem with ants. If I see them in my house, I don't kill them. They never hurt me, so I don't hurt them. They just follow each other in a line, one by one, like a class of third graders going to lunch or to the water fountain after recess. So, I leave them be. </div><div><br /></div><div>But ants usually don't come into my lounge; they usually scout around on the tile floor. It seemed interesting to me that they'd venture over into our little lounge. I go into the hallway only to discover that I don't have a line of well-behaved third grader ants, I have what looks like a swarm of panicked ants. No, these ants look like an army about to take over my home. This little ant nation had crossed a line, and I was not about to just sit there passively. </div><div><br /></div><div>I quickly got out the mop. These little guys were in for an untimely demise. So there I go like a crazy woman with some vendetta, killing these ants and washing them down the drain. All of the dirt that didn't stick to my heavy-duty mop I piled up in the center of my tile floor. 'Job well done,' I thought to myself, as I went for the dust pan to sweep up any jailbreak ants. </div><div><br /></div><div>Then, in my little pile of debris, I noticed...rice...wait...no, not rice. The rice was moving. Moving rice? Inchworm rice? It took a few seconds of watching the swollen pieces of rice frantically inching themselves away from my debris pile for me to realize that these new creatures were, in fact, maggots. </div><div><br /></div><div>Yes...maggots. </div><div><br /></div><div>Yes...maggots in my house. </div><div><br /></div><div>Well, then I went on a killing spree, Rambo style. I took my flip flop off and began banging these little guys into oblivion. How dare they take up residence in flat C302?!</div><div><br /></div><div>I eventually put it all together and realized that the wood that had gotten wet from our washing machine hose fiasco had been the perfect breeding ground for little maggots, and my vigorous mopping had ousted them from their hiding place. </div><div><br /></div><div>And all of this really begs the question, why so many ants? Apparently they knew about the unwelcome visitors long before I did. They were carrying them off for an afternoon snack. Africa's circle of life displayed before my very eyes (cue Lion King theme song)!</div><div><br /></div><div>*Note concerning title: I must give credit where credit is due. As I discussed my plans for this blog with my dad, he came up with the brilliant title! Catchy, isn't it?</div></div>Matt and Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01926040068969541936noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7982874552761388252.post-1770582689829170822009-12-24T02:12:00.001-08:002009-12-24T03:23:59.186-08:00On Encountering Deadly African Animals...<div>I've had people ask me if I see lions and tigers and elephants in Africa (definitely not tigers, as they don't live in Africa, I often have to explain). The answer is that I do see animals, but it's probably not any more exciting than the animals that you see. Then again...maybe my evening last night accounts for an exciting African animal encounter. </div><div><br /></div>After a busy evening out at the mall and movies with our friends, Matt and I made our way over to the place where we were house sitting. The mall had been packed that evening, and we walked around quite a bit, so we were both ready to settle into bed. I stayed awake a little longer than Matt, thoroughly engrossed in my book. Finally, as sleep overtook my eyes, I settled in and turned off the light, snuggling in close to Matt. <div><br /></div><div>As soon as the room turned dark, I heard a small crunching noise. I froze...was someone in the back yard? The dogs didn't seem to rustle, but I was sure that I had heard something. Then, I heard it again, its duration lengthening this time. Surely this was something that my valiant husband, not me, should deal with. I shook him lightly, but he continued sleeping. Finally, overtaken by fear, as I realized the sound was much closer than I initially thought, I poked him repeatedly in the collar bone as hard as I could. </div><div><br /></div><div>"Matt...are you awake?"</div><div><br /></div><div>"Yeah...that hurt," he mumbled.</div><div><br /></div><div>"Do you hear that?"</div><div><br /></div><div>"No...."</div><div><br /></div><div>"Listen..."</div><div><br /></div><div>There was the crunching noise again. It sounded almost as if a small creature was gnawing on a piece of wood. </div><div><br /></div><div>"Rachel, it's just a mouse and it's probably in the roof somewhere," he said as he turned over to go back to bed. I was not about to settle for that explanation. </div><div><br /></div><div>"No, Matt. It's not in the roof. It's in this room!" Matt turned on the light and got up for what I thought was a diligent search of the room. Instead he stumbled to the bathroom in a semi-conscious state to use the toilet, leaving me alone with the mysterious crunching sound. Images of a rogue rat climbing up the covers and biting me filled my mind. What if it was infected with the Black Plague or rabies or something?! I didn't move. I heard the sound again and said in desperation, "Matt, the sound is in this room, and I think it's behind the chest of drawers beside my bed." </div><div><br /></div><div>The chest of drawers is probably less than two feet from where my precious head sleeps. I was not about to doze off into slumber, knowing that there was some sort of animal inches from my bed. It was like those childhood fears of monsters under your bed, but real this time. Matt returned from the bathroom and decided to move the chest of drawers out. On his second attempt to move it forward, the culprit showed his face. Faster than my drowsy mind could comprehend, I saw the little brown body of a mouse zoom out from behind the drawers and under our bed. I shrieked and jumped from the floor to the bed, distancing myself as much as I could from the foreigner. </div><div><br /></div><div>The good news was that I wasn't crazy, but now this mouse was seeking refuge under the bed. This was not a good enough solution. Matt started pressing the mattress down with his elbow to try and oust the mouse. Suddenly, it zoomed out from under the bed and scurried under the crack between the bedroom door and the floor. We were safe, for now. </div><div><br /></div><div>Matt began to crawl back into bed. </div><div><br /></div><div>"Are you serious Matt?! If the little guy can get under the crack between the door and the floor, he can surely get back into the room." I looked for anything small that I could stuff between the crack. Finally, I found a pile of magazines and began stuffing them in the crack. </div><div><br /></div><div>"You're crazy. It's not going to hurt you."</div><div><br /></div><div>"Well, I don't want to find out if the thing is a nice mouse or a mean mouse. I just want him to leave me be."</div><div><br /></div><div>A couple of seconds of silence follow...</div><div><br /></div><div>"Oh, I forgot to tell you, Rachel, they (the owners of the house) told me that they thought there was still a mouse in their house." We knew that they'd previously had a mouse, but we thought he had left the premises for good.</div><div><br /></div><div>"And how did you manage to remember to tell me only now?"</div><div><br /></div><div>"I don't know, I guess it just slipped my mind." He sort of smiled and then rolled over and turned out the lights. </div><div><br /></div><div>So, my husband did defend me from the African beast, albeit quite reluctantly, and it seems that no matter what country you call home, mice can still be pesky little creatures. </div>Matt and Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01926040068969541936noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7982874552761388252.post-90270513066636042172009-12-18T22:42:00.000-08:002009-12-18T22:57:36.210-08:00Cooking with RachelAs the minutes tick by, we draw closer to the InsideOut Christmas, and Matt has been working nonstop this morning on his message for tonight. <div><br /></div><div>Being the domestic queen that I am, I decided it would be profitable to whip up some sort of baked creation for him this morning. I seem to go through various stages in the kitchen. </div><div><br /></div><div>There was a time where I measured everything, down to the pinch of salt. That didn't last long. Too many dirty dishes afterwards. </div><div><br /></div><div>In rebellion to my previous cooking habits, I then went in the kitchen with a boldness that thought I didn't need to measure anything. This worked about fifty percent of the time. The other fifty percent of the time it was just never ending unmet expectations. </div><div><br /></div><div>My most recent kick was cooking without refined sugar. I'd substitute honey or molasses for the sugar, but it seemed that my final product just wasn't that satisfying. "There's no refined sugar in these muffins, honey. Can you believe it?" I'd ask Matt. "Oh, yes, I can believe it" he'd reply. He'd stomach them down, but there were often leftovers, something that doesn't happen unless the food is REALLY bad. </div><div><br /></div><div>But, there's one thing that hasn't changed in all of my cooking phases. Every time I cook, I always make some sort of haphazard mistake. Fast forward to today. I decided on coffee cake; easy enough, right? Yes, it would have been if I'd read what size pan that I was supposed to use. Midway through pouring my mass of batter into a very large rectangular pan, I glance at the recipe only to see it calls for a much, much smaller square pan. Great. </div><div><br /></div><div>So, I scoop everything out of the bigger pan only to find that I don't have a square pan. In fact, I just have this oval corning ware dish (which now I'm thinking is much too small because it was only supposed to take 25 minutes to cook, and it's getting close to 40.) </div><div><br /></div><div>So...will my blueberry apple (it became blueberry apple because I ran out of blueberries) coffee cake be edible? Only time will tell...</div><div><br /></div><div>(Pause as I go check for the 4th time)</div><div><br /></div><div>Well, I have a feeling the consistency will be anything but uniform, as the edges of the oval seem quite crisp and the middle is as soggy as a wet sponge at this point. </div><div><br /></div><div>:Sigh: Rachael Ray makes it look so easy!</div>Matt and Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01926040068969541936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7982874552761388252.post-24584489509637269052009-12-18T04:30:00.000-08:002009-12-18T04:39:18.078-08:00InsideOut Upside Down ChristmasWell, well, well...it's been a while since my last post, but I've been on quite a few adventures this past month, which I'll get to next time. <div><br /></div><div>For now though, I am super busy planning for our InsideOut UpsideDown Christmas. This is our Christmas event that we're creating for our teens and their families and friends. It's happening tomorrow (Saturday) at 7pm. We're having a variety of vendors coming in who will be selling food as early as 6:30pm. </div><div><br /></div><div>I don't want to give too much away, but it will be similar to our other events, with games, prizes, and a few words from my lovely husband :)</div><div><br /></div><div>At InsideOut, we've been talking about kingdoms, focusing on the fact that everyone lives their lives for a kingdom. Matt left us all in suspense and tension at the last InsideOut, as he informed us that oftentimes, our kingdom and God's kingdom will collide. At IO Christmas, Matt plans on resolving a bit of that tension. </div><div><br /></div><div>Although I'd love to write more, I need to put some last minute touches on our games for tomorrow night. </div><div><br /></div><div>Expect more updates soon with...</div><div><br /></div><div> -stories from my trip to America</div><div><br /></div><div> -an update on InsideOut</div><div><br /></div><div> -adventures in Cape Town</div><div><br /></div><div> -and pictures of our home!!!!! (we bought a digital camera in America!)</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Matt and Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01926040068969541936noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7982874552761388252.post-89909500866821658672009-10-21T07:33:00.000-07:002009-10-21T07:53:11.519-07:00The Blessing of ObedienceI wanted to share with you all a very interesting experience I had this afternoon. I had noticed a friend of mine was working on a paper, and she had asked me if I could answer a questionnaire. I saw it was a mass email, so I decided to wait and respond until after InsideOut. <div><br /></div><div>Much to my surprise today, I saw that the questionnaire was concerning our views on abstinence before marriage. In the world we live in today, I realize that I am one of very few who believes in waiting until marriage. Out of the few that believe in it, I was one of the even fewer who (by the grace of God), was able to wait. </div><div><br /></div><div>It was such an enlightening experience to be able to explain on my questionnaire the benefits of waiting until being in a committed marriage relationship to explore those levels of intimacy. Working through her questionnaire, I really was able to see and explore some of the many benefits Matt and I have experienced due to waiting until marriage. Even today, almost six months later, I'm so thankful we made that decision...and I'm even more thankful for the accountability of a few friends who stuck with us through our dating and engagement seasons. Furthermore, I'm just thankful to God for giving us the grace and means (even if that meant living across continents) to live out what we believed was the right thing in our hearts. </div><div><br /></div><div>I can't even begin to explain to people the firm foundation that abstinence prior to marriage sets for couples. Maybe this is something that people are familiar with, but for me, it didn't truly make sense until I was on the other side of the fence. I wish that I could have understood prior to marriage the positives...I'm sure I would have been even more careful in guarding my purity...but I must say, God's Word is spot on in why it begs for people not to engage in what it labels as sexual immorality. I can truly say with confidence that God wants this act to stay in marriage because it is such a blessing on us if we wait. </div><div><br /></div><div>I have a hunch that my experience with abstinence and purity will be similar with other commands that God gives. They may not make so much sense now, but once I get to the other side of the fence, I will experience blessing beyond measure. </div><div><br /></div><div>It's moments like these that define my paradigm and relationship with God. It makes sense that God credits our faith to us as righteousness...because, f<span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'Charis SIL';">aith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see." </span>If you love someone, you trust them, even when what they ask of you doesn't quite make sense. What better way to manifest our love towards someone than trusting them over all others? </div><div><br /></div>Matt and Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01926040068969541936noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7982874552761388252.post-36721567313266436312009-10-20T00:30:00.000-07:002009-10-20T00:55:02.261-07:00<div>To keep it organized (which I fail to do when I blog), I am going to number the big points of interest over the last month. Then you can pick and choose what is important for you!</div><div><br /></div><div>1) InsideOut: It went really well! We had it on the 16 of October and launched our small groups that week. I am working with my friend Tamara with the grade 10-12 girls. It was really awesome to get to know them a little better, and I look forward to working more with those girls in the coming years. The crazy thing was that we had 23 grade 10-12 boys! Typically, youth events have more females than males, but that hasn't been the case with us. It's really awesome to see a significant portion of those young men excited about deepening their relationship with Jesus. I can't even begin to imagine the positive influence these men will have on their future families if they continue on this road. It's such a blessing to be the means that God is using to guide these teenagers. </div><div><br /></div><div>We also did a hip hop dance at InsideOut that my friend Brendon and I choreographed. There were five of us. We began working on this dance in August, so it was nice to see the fruit of our labor. Lots of positive feedback came from that. </div><div><br /></div><div>The last thing was our fashion show that we did. It was absolutely hilarious! We had all the teens bring in their old clothing and we dressed our small group leaders up and paraded them through the building. We're donating their clothes to an organization called The Warehouse. It was a great way to help those who have little but also have fun in the process. </div><div><br /></div><div>We have our next InsideOut the 13 of November!</div><div><br /></div><div>2) Books: Matt and I have found something more engrossing than the internet or the television...Ted Dekker's Circle Trilogy. They're just impossible to put down. I just finished the third book in the trilogy only to find out that there is actually a fourth book (a prequel). The books, although their fiction, really focus on the idea that just because one cannot see something does not mean that it is not there or that that unseen thing cannot have effects. I love the line at the end when the protagonist says, "The battle over flesh and blood cannot compare to the battle for the heart." For me, it helped me especially in considering the afterlife, since the concept of death scares me so much! Anyway, they're not the most profound books in the world, but certainly entertaining!</div><div><br /></div><div>3) Musings: I've been thinking about pride a lot lately...where and how it manifests in my life, how to subdue it, how it affects my relationships with others. Frankly, it's just mind-blowing how sneaky pride can be. Pride can look like fear or insecurity, or it can look like something really good, too! I was reading about Saul and his decision to disobey God and not kill all the animals in Amelek in 1 Sam. 15. God had told him to "Go and strike Amalek and devote to destruction all they have. Do not spare them, but kill both man and woman, child and infant, ox and sheep, camel and donkey." But Saul decides to leave the best animals alive and sacrifice them to God. Samuel comes in and sees what is happening and is just like "Saul, what are you doing?! This is not what God told you to do." After a little banter, Samuel says the line we've all heard, "Has the Lord as great delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices as in obeying the voice of the Lord? Behold, to obey is better than sacrifice, and to listen than the fat of the rams. For rebellion is as the sin of divination and presumption is as iniquity and idolatry." I'd never really taken that in context before to try and understand it, but what I really gleaned from my reading is that on the outside, Saul's decision didn't look like a bad one. In fact, it looked like a logical, wise decision. It looked like he had the best intentions in mind (the people will be happy with my decision, God gets sacrifices, everybody wins). But in fact, it was the opposite of what God had asked him to do. And that all goes back to pride, because pride is thinking that we know better than what God says for us to do. I couldn't help but think of all the times that I knew what I was supposed to do (be patient, rejoice, don't grumble, consider others better than myself, pray), and yet I try to reason with God and say, "But God, your commands are really illogical; I think my plan of how to deal with this situation is better. In fact, it's probably wiser." When I really got to the root of it, I realized that all of that inside of me was just pride. So, I've been thinking a lot about this lately and praying that God reveals to me areas of pride in my life. It's just not healthy to have that pride, and it really seems to hinder what God wants to do with us. </div><div><br /></div><div>Anyway, that's about it on this side of the ocean. InsideOut, Ted Dekker, and pride. And that, ladies and gentlemen, has filled my life for the past few weeks! Hope everyone has a splendid day. And all of my friends in America, go look at the trees as they change colors for me and enjoy them!</div>Matt and Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01926040068969541936noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7982874552761388252.post-18619211377669553672009-09-22T07:35:00.000-07:002009-09-22T07:45:14.426-07:00Update from Whale HuntingAfter looking on the horizon for a few minutes, we saw an amazing show from a whale. He was far away, but he was jumping out of the water and making huge splashes! It was AMAZING! We went to this awesome Deli called the Olympia Cafe and went window shopping. I saw these really cute dresses for like R500, and I kept reminding Matt that I would like a new dress for Karis' wedding. Haha, we'll see...I'm not sure how keen I am about spending R500. The dresses had this sweet, vintage look; maybe I can make one for a whole lot less ;)<div><br /></div><div>Anyway, today has been a day of cleaning. Sometimes I feel like I'm Susy Homemaker meets Nancy Drew. Like, I really have a desire to have a nice, cute, home, but I totally was cut out for something more mind-boggling, like solving mysteries. But actually, I really like my style of my house. It's very simple...no frills...just the basics. It's easier to clean that way. The less things you have, the less you have to dust. Plus, I imagine there was a day where Nancy decided it was time to hang up the magnifying glass and go ahead and tie the knot with Ned. It's just, as I so poignantly read in Ecclesiastes, that there's a time for everything...and it's my time to CLEAN and not solve mysteries. </div><div><br /></div><div>So...I'll keep you posted. We're going on a retreat tomorrow, so I'll let everyone know how that goes! </div><div><br /></div><div>Have a delightful day!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Matt and Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01926040068969541936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7982874552761388252.post-69068195663638881722009-09-21T01:00:00.000-07:002009-09-21T01:10:53.839-07:00I thought I'd share with you all a quite humorous story that happened yesterday. <div><br /></div><div>Sunday morning is the day that we have to wake up at 5:15am to set up for church. Since our entire church is portable (meaning we don't own the venue; we rent it), we have to set it up every Sunday. It's not like America where there's acres of unused land where you can just purchase, chop down some trees, and up goes a church building. When one outgrows their previous venue, there's really few options available as far as expansion goes. So...we rent, meaning we take about 2 hours to set up everything, run sound check, do a run through of the service, have breakfast, and then do the service. Then, after service is done, we take it all down again and pack it away until the next week. </div><div><br /></div><div>That being said, it is quite important that we start on time, specifically in Matt's case, reason being that Matt has the only key to the store room where all of our decor and equipment is. Well, as usual, Saturday night, we set our alarm, go to bed at the late hour of 9:45, and snooze away. The next thing I remember was Matt's cellphone alarm going off, only it wasn't the alarm, it was someone calling him. As I opened my eyes, I saw that the sun was up. You know that horrible feeling you have when you put 2 and 2 together and realize, "Wait a second! The sun isn't supposed to be up when I wake up!" It's like the pleasantries of waking up to the sun only to realize two seconds later that you were supposed to be up a LONG time ago. That all went through my head in about a half of a second, followed by Matt saying, "Rachel! It's 6:15, we overslept!" The guys from church were calling us wondering where we were, waiting for the key to the store room! Oops! Needless to say, we got ready at hyper speed, probably quicker than ever before on a Sunday morning. </div><div><br /></div><div>All was fine, but it was just one of those mornings where you have no idea how you overslept, but you did. </div><div><br /></div><div>Anyway, Matt and I are going to go on an adventure today to search for whales! We saw some yesterday but they were very far away; hopefully today we get a better view. </div><div><br /></div><div>Also this week we're going on a retreat to learn about how to be better Small Group Leaders! We're very excited about that! And then next week, we start training our InsideOut Small Group Leaders! Lots of exciting plans on the books for Matt and myself. We will continue to update!</div><div><br /></div><div>More pots later...I have some good ideas for posts brooding in my brain, and I'm sure I'll have some exciting stories after today's adventures! </div>Matt and Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01926040068969541936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7982874552761388252.post-72048337487557996402009-09-15T23:24:00.000-07:002009-09-15T23:40:50.280-07:00Rainy day in Cape TownWell, today is yet another rainy day in Cape Town. Winter is like that house guest that overstays its welcome, and just when you think it's about to get up and leave, it's actually only going to get another cup of coffee and sit back down for a while. :Sigh: <div><br /></div><div>I've been blog hunting lately, looking for exciting blogs that exist out there. The concept of blogs is so fascinating, I think. There's so many sorts out there with so many different purposes, and for some reason, I find it just as fascinating to spend my time getting in the mind of these people that I hardly even know! Lately, I've been looking at these new mother blogs (NO, I'm not pregnant, just to clear the air) just to kind of get a fresh perspective of what it is like for different people to take on the decision of starting a family. It's quite interesting because my perspective has broadened concerning parenthood. I found a quite interesting blog that chronicled the story of a woman named Angie (she's married to a guy in the band Selah), and her battle as a mother to decide whether to take her child to full term or not. The child had an oversized heart among other problems, meaning that it would die at birth. Anyway, she's a very colorful blogger. I found her story quite interesting and thought maybe some of you all would, too. Here's the link: <a href="http://http://www.audreycaroline.blogspot.com/">http://www.audreycaroline.blogspot.com/</a></div><div><br /></div><div>There's a link near the top that you can click on to start at the beginning of her story. The first entry is just mind-blowing. </div><div><br /></div><div>Anyway, I've found that it is so important to use time in a way that would honor God. When school, jobs, and other responsibilities aren't breathing down your neck and pushing me to go further, work harder, and give more, what am I doing with my time? How can I use my gifts when I don't feel like anybody out there is really cheering for me, helping me, etc.? Well, I've always liked music a lot, so I've been working really hard in that area. Matt has helped me in the area of piano, first and foremost, and I'm playing a lot at church. I'm not very good yet at this non-classical thing that I'm doing, but I'm certainly getting better. Southpoint is a really awesome venue for that, because I'm better than just a novice, but I'm not a keyboard extraordinaire. I have a place that stretches me, but I actually can make some valuable contribution. </div><div><br /></div><div>Secondly, I've been spending most of my free time taking up a new musical instrument. It would kind of be stupid if one was married to an amazing guitarist with amazing, expensive guitars and didn't take their husband up on free lessons. So, Matt has been teaching me guitar for the last week. I'm having so much fun. So far, I've learned 2 bar cords and I can play 3 songs well and I'm onto my fourth (It's kind of hard though because there are 2 bar cords in it, which are hard for my little fingers). </div><div><br /></div><div>Anyway, besides music, I've been reading quite a bit, and I'm trying to expand my conversational Afrikaans phrases. So, this is my attempt to use my time in a way that expands my knowledge and honors the Lord. It certainly makes for quite an adventure!</div><div><br /></div><div>I am so blessed to be living such an adventure of my life. It is safe to say, even on the dreariest of Cape Town days, that life with Matt is more than I ever could have dreamed...</div>Matt and Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01926040068969541936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7982874552761388252.post-91230052922034816552009-08-27T12:28:00.000-07:002009-08-27T12:44:27.150-07:00Thursday Night Cleaning FestA normal week for me does not consist of the time to actually clean, so when I do get the time to clean, I pretty much try to get as much as possible done. <div><br /></div><div>Tonight was one of those nights. Matt had band practice, I wasn't playing, and I had no plans; therefore, the default plans of the evening were cleaning. </div><div><br /></div><div>You'd think that in an apartment consisting of two bedrooms, a bathroom, a kitchen, and a lounge, it would be hard for things to get dirty. Nothing could be further from the truth. It's almost like the dirt has nowhere to spread out, so I feel like things get even dirtier!</div><div><br /></div><div>Now, granted, I don't mind a dirty house...never have never will, but our "situation" makes things a little more acute. We have white tile floors all throughout our kitchen, hallways, and bathroom. White tile floors pretty much are magnets for everything gross, nasty, sticky, and everything else. It doesn't matter how careful you are, it doesn't matter if you haven't been in the house for a week straight...the floors inevitably get disgustingly dirty. </div><div><br /></div><div>So, the first thing I did tonight (after I made a batch of banana muffins to surprise Matt) was mop. But I have this thing about our mop. I really thing mops are the most disgusting cleaning appliance ever. Who honestly thought, "Hey, I have an idea! Let's get a stick and attach big pieces of cloth to the end of it. Then we'll put it in gross water and use it over and over again to clean our dirty floors! What a sanitary idea" Now, fellow Americans under the age of 30 who read my blog, I know what you're saying, "What's a mop? Don't you have a Swiffer Wet Jet?" The answer in short is, No. There are kitchen appliances that are rip offs of the Swiffer Wet Jet, but they do not come close. So, a good, old-fashioned mop it is. It sits in my bathtub after it's been used, and then when guests come over, it gets moved to the shower. What else can you do with a mop? </div><div><br /></div><div>Anyway, I was not about to go get the disgusting mop, wipe it all over my floors again, just spreading disease every which way, further perpetuating the disgusting damp, filthy, disease-ridden situation. So, I decided to try something different. </div><div><br /></div><div>I don't know if it was any more sanitary, but it certainly was more entertaining. Basically, the process worked like this. </div><div><br /></div><div>1)Throw water all over my floor.</div><div><br /></div><div>2)Run around my house, sliding around bare foot to spread the water out. </div><div><br /></div><div>3)Use my little rubber broom thing to squeegie the water off the floor.</div><div><br /></div><div>4)Get the disgusting water/hair/crumb pile up with a dishtowel and flush it down the toilet. </div><div><br /></div><div>And to dry the floor?</div><div><br /></div><div>1)Put on a pair of socks</div><div><br /></div><div>2)Scootch around the floor until it's dry. </div><div><br /></div><div>It's quite an invigorating experience. You almost chuckle to yourself, thinking, "hehe, I probably shouldn't be doing this, but I can, because I pay to live here and no one can tell me what to do! I'm such a rebel." This is the extent of my rebelliousness.</div><div><br /></div><div>And just wait until children. It will be the most sought after chore in the Hastings Household after I show them how Extreme Mopping is done. </div><div><br /></div><div>Anyway, hope everyone is enjoying their week. If you're bored, try this alternative cleaning method to brighten your day!</div>Matt and Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01926040068969541936noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7982874552761388252.post-37527046485040379852009-08-17T11:37:00.000-07:002009-08-17T11:47:05.253-07:00InsideOut number 2 and a nice weekendWe had our second InsideOut this past weekend, bringing in 22 new kids and bringing the total kids who attended on Friday up to 55! Matt is on his way to getting his head shaved. Everyone who volunteered was very excited about the positive reaction that we've received from IO. It's a great environment for teens grade 7-12, and not to mention, it's an awesome place to volunteer. I think our volunteers have had a great time thus far! (Correct me if I'm wrong :)<div><br /></div><div>One difficult thing that I've found about Cape Town is that Google doesn't bring up as many options of fun things to do as when you're in America. So, for example, if I type in "cool coffee shops in the Western Cape", I get few cool websites. So, we kind of have to go by word of mouth to find cool places to go. Well, today it was 330 pm, and we hadn't left the house yet on our day off. We saw online that there seemed to be a few cool places on Kloof St. so we decided to give it a go. We found this awesome health shop called the Wellness Centre (or something like that), and they have this really cool organic coffee shop in there. They have this great deal of a slice of cake and a cappuccino or tea for only R20 (which is like $1.50). So, I got carrot cake and a cappuccino, and Matt got cheesecake and a cappuccino. It was spectacular and we talked in the little shop for like an hour and a half. A wonderful way to spend the day. </div><div><br /></div><div>We're finally at a point in life where we can begin to explore Cape Town, which has been nice. When I first got here, I was so busy trying to just emotionally survive and get comfortable in my own skin, I didn't even really want to explore. Now, I'm just starting to get the itch to see what is all around here in the Western Cape. </div><div><br /></div><div>In other news, I got lost in the Waterfront mall and didn't have my phone with me so I couldn't call Matt. Luckily, I saw Johan and Miranda from church and they let me use their phone so I could call Matt and find him. I got really scared and confused and ended up on the completely wrong side of the mall from where I was supposed to be. Oops!</div><div><br /></div><div>Well, if any Capetonians have any cool suggestions of other coffee shops/bookstores/cool places to go and browse around where we won't spend a lot of money, please comment on my blog and let me know! Otherwise, I'm sure my future posts will be about my exploration adventures!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Matt and Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01926040068969541936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7982874552761388252.post-13764011405102074742009-07-30T09:52:00.000-07:002009-07-30T10:15:55.419-07:00Things are going well on this side of the ocean! I'm missing the hot weather, but in time, it will come. <div><br /></div><div>Things have been typically non-eventful lately, as life always is after you have some super-charged experience, like InsideOut launch and a team from North Point here. But, it's been nice to take some time and relax. Unfortunately, I've come down with a bit of a head cold today, so I've been bed-ridden for most of the afternoon and evening. Matt's done an excellent job taking care of me, making me lunch and serving me dinner as well. It's novel to him to take care of a sick wife...so he's soaking it all up (much to my benefit!). </div><div><br /></div><div>After the North Point team left, Matt and I took some time to enjoy the scenery in Cape Town. First, we went hiking in the woods together, and this past Monday, we trekked up Lion's Head. The day was beautiful, and it was 70 degrees outside, a nice change from the cold, wintery weather. </div><div><br /></div><div>Last night, Matt and I went to an italian restaurant called Magica Roma and our meal was spectacular! We used a gift certificate that Matt received for his birthday, which was very nice. We also used some birthday money from my parents to go to this really cool pizza place. Thanks to the generosity of others, we've had a few really nice dinners in the past 2 weeks. </div><div><br /></div><div>We're gearing up for our next IO (InsideOut) on the 14th of August, which is pretty exciting! We have some great ideas that are already being implemented, and let's just say it's going to be quite a fun night. Make sure to get the word out about the next IO to everyone you know! You don't want to miss it...and frankly, I'm ready for Matt's head to be shaved :) I think he'll look really cute. </div><div><br /></div><div>I've gotten quite a bit of reading done in the past week. I finished up Wright last week (finally...but it was so worth it) and I read a book about a woman who escaped from the Fundamentalist Latter Day Saint group that was previously led by Warren Jeffs. The book is titled "Escape" and it's by Carolyn Jessop if anyone is interested in reading it. It is quite a fascinating story. For any Jon Krakauer fans (Into Thin Air...a great story, too!), it should be known that he writes the review on the back cover of the book. It reads very much like one of his books...an account of truth that reads like fiction. Quite entertaining, if I do say so myself. </div><div><br /></div><div>I found myself at the end of the book feeling skeptical and cynical of the concept of organized religion. The propaganda that the FLDS used to entrap these women is absolutely scandalous. It's hard to see any shred of the love, grace, and forgiveness that overflows in every message of Jesus in the fanatical extremism portrayed in this book. It has led me back to praying that God lead us to teaching and practicing truth in our lives. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Now, I'm onto a George MacDonald book. It was one Matt bought me for our one year anniversary when we were dating. Finally, I'm getting around to reading it. :) </div><div><br /></div><div>Well...this is the mundane of life. Sorry I can't wow any readers with an exciting story, as I'm sure many of you cannot either : ) But Oswald Chambers puts it better than I ever could...</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; ">"We do not need the grace of God to withstand crises—human nature and pride are sufficient for us to face the stress and strain magnificently. But it does require the supernatural grace of God to live twenty-four hours of every day as a saint, going through drudgery, and living an ordinary, unnoticed, and ignored existence as a disciple of Jesus. It is ingrained in us that we have to do exceptional things for God—but we do not. We have to be exceptional in the ordinary things of life, and holy on the ordinary streets, among ordinary people—and this is not learned in five minutes."</span><br /></div>Matt and Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01926040068969541936noreply@blogger.com1