Guten Tag!

We awoke to the alarm's punctuated ngh-ngh-ngh, and held each other under the warm feather-down comforter "just a few more minutes," before crossing Monday morning's threshold into another week. This last weekend was beautiful... sunshine, relaxation... and lots of time with the Torres Family. My first thought this morning was the realization, again, of the shortness of life. And the eternal-ness of eternity.





Although we've known the Torres' just a little over a year, we spent more time with them this last weekend than all year. They PCS, (meaning the government is transferring them to another station), this coming Friday. And I keep asking myself why we didn't take advantage of the time we had. In fact, lately I've been doing a lot of thinking about what matters. Mine and LeRoy's list of "What We Can Take to Heaven With Us" has come to mind: People, People, People... in no particular order.





While I was in Spokane in August, a girlfriend and I spent a night at her place on Lake Coeur d'Alene. As we sat there lounging peacefully, catching up with one another's lives, people kept showing up. I mean, they didn't just pass by in a boat and wave a hello, they saw us, paused, and then joined us. It was beautiful! These people sat down with us and engaged in conversation, laughing with us, mulling over lake politics, the real estate economy, their latest projects, what they had cooking in the oven presently, the acquaintance they'd met recently. To me, it was an unfolding metaphor of the most important moments in life... of how I think life should look on a general moment by moment basis. I wish I could remember their names, but I can still see their faces -- their smiles. I can still hear their laughter and feel the warmth of their friendship. One woman invited us over for breakfast the next morning -- and oh, how I wanted to drop everything to spend more time with these people!





That was the most difficult part of my visit to the States -- I wanted to bring everyone home with me when I returned to Germany.





I started reading a book over the weekend that my girlfriend loaned to me, "One Thing You Can't Do In Heaven" by Mark Cahill. And Sunday morning during our family meeting, we decided to go through the book, "Just Walk Across the Room," by Bill Hybels. I just keep thinking, if we're made for eternity... by a God Who longs for us to enjoy intimacy with Him... then it's probably a good idea to care about what God cares about... people...





A friend of mine emailed a couple of days ago to tell about their upcoming trip to California to visit their son and his wife who is just about to have a baby. I could feel the passion and excitement coming through her email as she told me about the "refinished rocking horse" and the book box they're taking down to their grandchild. I read the line in her email, "I just want to hold him and read to him," over and over as I drank in the sweetness of those dreams. The simplicity. The eternal-ness of those values. The community...

Thanks for "listening" to me share what's most pressing on my heart these days...

Oh! And by the way, I got several emails from people saying they couldn't link to the website I posted! Oops! I gave the wrong one... ugh... It's www.therebelution.com and you can get to their blog from there also.

REBELUTION

It is 3:12 AM, (thanks to my blessed insomnia... or I don't know when I would have time to sit down and write this... smile). I am so very excited to tell you about my experience on Wednesday. Our neighbor, Janine, invited me and the boys to visit her English class at school, "to tell [them] about America." Okay, sounded great.


When we got there, (on time!! Thank You, Jesus!), the teacher met us out in the parking lot and walked in with us. Emphatically, she told us over and over how glad she was that we would come visit them... "real Americans, in person!" she said. The boys and I looked at each other and giggled as we certainly did not expect such a welcome, then we followed her into the school and waited for Janine to meet up with us for their 20-minute break. When the bell rang, 5th through 9th graders spilled into the hallways and out into the sunshine and crisp autumn air. By the time we made our way outside, children were standing in small groups chatting and eating their bröchen filled with sausages. It was so cute. Right away we were surrounded by a group of girls asking us questions. (I'm convinced it's because I had my handsome boys along...) The leader of this little group was named Scarlet and she wanted to know when we were coming to her class. "Why don't you come on Friday!" While the teacher told her we would work out a time, I was thinking this girl had great entrepreneurship skills!


Now, the real adventure began when we walked into the classroom after the break. The children, (really, 8th graders), came in and noisily set bags under chairs, dropped books and folders onto the desks, the boys threw things at each other before tackling and then wrestling with one another, and the girls immediately formed groups of two and three to seemingly catch up on all the latest. The boys and I stared. We looked at one another and then back at the chaos. The bell rang, signifying the start of class, but the class acted oblivious. The teacher was yelling at them in an attempt to get their attention. Some of them paused for a moment to look at her and then went back to their talking... or wrestling. I noticed a few quiet girls, sitting as if trying to avoid being hit by one of the wadded up paper balls flying across the room. This went on for almost 10 minutes into the class. All the while, the boys and I sat there taking it all in.


Finally, the class quieted down... sort of. I'd start talking and they'd talk, too. After several "false starts" and much yelling both from the teacher and the students -- they were yelling at each other to be quiet -- I introduced myself and the boys. (The boys were astonishingly quiet and shy!! Could it be that they were finally outdone by the noise and ruckus?!) I began telling them where we were from, I showed them on the map, told them we're known as the Northwest and that Seattle is the Home of Starbucks. All the while, they are shouting intermittently at one another, the paper wads are still flying back and forth, the teacher is telling them to be quiet, and the students are yelling at the teacher, pointing fingers, yelling at one another, laughing... I'm looking at the situation and feeling like I'm in a movie -- not sure what kind of movie, but definitely in a movie. I realize these children couldn't care less about America or what I might have to say about it. I look at the clock. This is a 2-hour class and we're only 20 minutes into it. My heart starts to beat fast.


I walked over to the chalkboard, picked up a piece of chalk, and wrote across the top of the board: R-E-B-E-L-L-I-O-N.


"Do you know this word?" I ask the class. The teacher panics as she approaches me from the back of the room, coming in close, whispers that they really do want to be good but "they're just excited" and pleads with me not to be upset. I smile at her reassuringly, "Oh!" I tell her, "It is no problem! I'm having fun!" And, suddenly, I realize that I am having fun -- I've slipped into one of my "black outs." Adrenaline is coursing through my body, as if I've received a shot of endorphin through a direct line to my heart. I'm talking fast, I'm weaving in and out of the desks, making eye contact with the students, leaning in. Passionate, I've come undone. It's intense. But before I know what's happened, the students are quiet, they're sitting in their desks, they're raising their hands, waiting for me to call on them. I'm asking questions and they are eagerly carrying on a dialogue with me.


I write on the board, www.rebelution.com , and tell them they must visit this website. I write underneath that -- quickly -- "A rebelution is a rebellion against low expectations." Suddenly, I adore these children. I want to know them. I want to hear their dreams, their fears, their stories. They don't want to hear me spew facts about America. They want to hear about my life... about real life. These are intelligent human beings, our next generation of leaders, brimming with potential, and wanting what every human craves: to make a difference. Before I know it, we're talking about expectations and dreams. I ask them if they know the word "Integrity." The teacher writes it on the board and then puts the word "Awesome" after it. what? Okay, so we keep talking.


One boy raises his hand and tells me several places he wants to visit in America: New York, Chicago, Los Angeles... Springfield. I walk right into his dialogue, "Missouri? Why there?"


He smiles and looks around the classroom and I can see I've fed into his mischief. He says it loudly, "The Simpsons!" Everyone laughs. The teacher asks who watches the Simpsons and most of the class raises their hands. My adrenaline and passion goes up a few notches.


"Is that the most you expect of yourself?! Do you realize you are at an age that you can make a difference in the world? I read stories all the time of students your age who are making choices that are making the world a better place. Don't you think you could do that? Why not raise the bar, stretch yourself, and achieve your goals?" The passion is coursing through me faster than I can articulate and I feel frustrated by my lack of eloquence. I'm not even sure how much they've understood by this time. But I still have their attention.


Before I know it, the class is about over and I need to leave. The boys hand out the treats we brought them: Reese's Peanut Butter Cups and Peanut Butter M&M's (they love our peanut butter!), and the teacher asks me to tell the class what I think of their behavior during our visit. "Please!" she says, "Be honest! Tell them what you really think of their behavior!" I smile.


I walk between the rows of desks, "I think you've all behaved perfectly horrible!" I tell them. (The teacher meant well when she encouraged me to be honest... but that's something I rarely need encouragement for.) I'm looking into their eyes, pausing, searching, "But I want you to know how very much I love you." Their eyes open a little wider. There is a ripple of soft giggles. "I know, that sounds like mushy American sentiment, but it's true. I really do love every single one of you. I look into your eyes and I see so much hope, so many dreams, and I want you to know how valuable you are."


Later that day, Janine told me that they would like us to come every month. What a relief! There's so, so, so much that I wanted to say... So much that needs to be said in the context of a relationship. I want them to know Who loves them so much more than they could ever imagine; the Reason I can even dare to offer up my small little bit of love for them. Marco, Yvonne, Olga, Lisa (pronounced Leeza), Janine... all 29 of them... I want them to know that they're made for eternity by a God Who longs to enjoy an eternal relationship with them. That they're created with purpose, a purpose beyond themselves. Hopefully, they'll visit the website I wrote on the board. I had brought the book the boys and I are reading, "Do Hard Things," by Alex and Brett Harris, the twin brothers who also author The Rebelution Website, but I didn't sense that I was supposed to tell them about it... yet.


Throughout our visit, Eli, Isaiah, and Ezekiel sat perfectly quiet. Hm. Perhaps next time, I'll sit perfectly quiet while they lead the discussion! smile. They did tell me they had a blast and that they can't wait to go back! Me, too!!

Getting Ready For Another Week

Let me back up just a little. August 30 - September 1st we were in Switzerland. Lately, our family has experienced so many moments where we exclaim, "Hey! That's a picture of God's glory!" As we were driving through the Swiss Alps, visiting with people at L'Abri, a community set high in the Alps in the village of Huemoz, (I'll tell you more about that later), visiting with our friend, Katja, and sightseeing in Bern, there were countless times when we were in awe as we reflected, "That's God's glory!"


Tuesday, September 2nd, we settled back into real life -- LeRoy returned to work, Israel went back to German school, and me and the 3 boys settled back into home schooling. Well, at least that's what we were supposed to do. Our weekend in Switzerland was so dreamy... so... magical, that "settling" in didn't feel possible. My engines felt like they stalled out.


After puttering around all day, ignoring a mountain of laundry, letting the boys have "recess" for like 5 hours, and wondering what in the world was wrong with me, I decided to settle it with some (more) spontaneity. LeRoy called at his usual time, (right before coming home from work to check the "emotional climate" at home), and I prepared him -- a little. At least I told him I had dinner packed in the trunk of the van and that we were going for a drive as soon as he could change into play clothes.


We drove 10 minutes north of our house to the village of Meerfeld... and one of the crater lakes in this area. I regret that I didn't have our camera as we ate our dinner sitting on the lake's edge and then walked around the perimeter. The sun was taking it's sweet time setting and the reflection across the lake, the deep greens along the surrounding hills, the quaint village, me and LeRoy walking hand in hand with our children running, laughing, and pretending yet more adventures -- no doubt out of "Lord of the Rings," put us back into that whole surely-I-must-be-dreaming mode. A breath-taking picture of God's glory. We just can't get over how extraordinarily gorgeous it is here! And this is 10 minutes from our house!


(I'm going back to get pictures!)


Well, we got back into the groove of things. Okay, I got back on track. Home schooling is... intense. We're enjoying ourselves... mostly. I love it, but I'm exhausted at the end of each day. All last week I went to bed between 8 and 8:30 every night... and fell asleep shortly after laying down, hardly able to keep my eyes open to read a few paragraphs out of a book. We're still studying Ancient Egypt. (Of course, we're thinking it would make for a grand field trip to go on a cruise on the Nile or visit the pyramids in Cairo or something along those lines... smile. The APPLE culture is still very much a part of our mindset when it comes to experiencing life instead of simply reading it out of a textbook!)


Then on Friday at around 4 AM, LeRoy awoke in severe pain. (Now, some of you know that I'm not the most compassionate person in the world; But I've tried to learn my lesson over the years and I think I'm finally starting to get it.) By 7:30 he knew he wasn't going in to work and by 9 AM, he said that something was "very wrong" and he needed to go to the hospital. All the way there, we laughed -- yes, even LeRoy -- at how maddening, crazy, even ludicrous, my lack of compassion was in past incidents. Okay, they mostly laughed because I'm the crazy lady... I laughed, sort of, to hide how incredibly guilty I felt.


As we neared the hospital I prayed for LeRoy and asked God to work a miracle, "let us see Your signs and wonders, Lord," and secretly hoped that somewhere along the way I would mature and become more kind. We drove through Bitburg, found the Krankenhaus (hospital), and pulled into one of those European parking garages made for Smart cars where we literally wedged our chunky Toyota van into a spot. (All the while I thanked the Lord for the opportunity to have driven the embarrassing family Suburban during my high school years.) LeRoy got out and then just as I was preparing to climb over the console into the back so that I could get out the sliding door (the driver's door was about an inch and a half from the wall), he turned around and said, "The pain's gone! I think we can go home now!" What?

I said, "Are you sure? We just came all this way... Don't you want to go in anyway?"


But he said, "Hey, you're the one who prayed for 'signs and wonders,' you know, 'miracles...' I say if God wants to show up and take away the pain, we ought to let Him!" One moment my husband is practically crawling out of his skin in his efforts to cope with the pain, the next he is smiling and acting like it's a day like every day. I felt reluctant to drive away from the Krankenhaus. (Lord? Are You there? Is this You revealing Your glory again? Cuz' I've heard about those weird cults that don't believe in medical intervention... Just checking. Oh, and thank You.)

Back at home LeRoy went back to bed, the children played, and I got on the internet trying to figure out what just happened to LeRoy. Judging from the location of the pain and the symptoms, we're pretty sure he has kidney stones. The rest of Friday was pain-free until that night when he had another episode. I found a home remedy for the pain: 2 ounces of lemon juice mixed with 2 ounces of olive oil. He drinks it when he feels an attack coming on and within about 15 or 20 minutes he feels much better. He's had about 3 more attacks since Friday. I read that it takes about two to three days to pass a kidney stone(s). We're praying this is the case. ...I also read that the pain caused from kidney stones is the most intense pain the human body can endure...

So there's a little update on the most current news happening here. And now you know how to pray specifically for LeRoy at this time. (And how to pray for me in my lapse of character!)


Tomorrow morning starts early. We are finally getting a great routine down that works well for us.


Much love to you,
Sharon


PS -- Would the person named Babs who left a comment recently please send another comment with your email address so that I can get in touch with you? Thank you. I look forward to talking with you.

Feurerwehr (Fireman) Training

This was the scene outside our house tonight: emergency vehicles, men clad in protective clothes, and water arching over our roof. The atmosphere was one of laid-back festivity, as though the men would at some point end their exercise and reconvene at the pub down the street. Even my four children got in on the fun, each taking a turn at holding and aiming the hose -- though it almost knocked all but Eli over on their backside. The volunteer firemen laughed, catching the hose -- and child -- just in time.

Again, because our house is the Gemeindehaus, it is the place where all the action happens. So fun!

Like I said before, I had a great time visiting everyone in the States... and something I decided is that I'm going to try to write about everyday life here. Like that we needed the Feurerwehr people to show up and do their training in our front yard because we desperately needed some diversion to a particularly hard day today. Does anyone else have two children who seem to believe it is their life's calling to outdo and one-up the other? And, if so, exactly what do you do at your house? And, in between the competitions, could you email me some advice?

Perhaps the firemen showing up to put out "fires" was symbolic tonight.

Well, I'm off to bed. I'm exhausted and I long to start fresh (translated start over) tomorrow. Love to you.

Sharon