Book Review: Wings of Faith

This Salvation Army biography, Wings of Faith: The Remarkable Life of Harry Read, was written by Dawn Volz. I first encountered Commissioner Harry Read through his poetry posted on Facebook. I had memories of an Army leader in London who impacted my life when I worked at the International College for Officers shortly after my college graduation. It turns out that was Ed Read. Commissioner Ed Read met with me weekly and gave me reading assignments we then discussed in a mentor relationship. Ed is mentioned in this biography. Harry's life impacted many individuals, too.

The focal point of Harry's story is his parachute jump at the 75th D-Day celebration. At 95-years-old, he was fit and brave enough to jump from a plane (higher than the one he jumped from in his teen years). I think I was most impressed to learn that he authored one of my favorite Salvation Army songs, "God's Soldier." It has a rousing chorus of "We're gonna fill, fill, fill the world with glory; We're going to smile, smile, smile and not frown; We're going to sing, sing, sing the gospel story; We're going to turn the world upside down."

Harry's poetry is meaningful and his life exemplary. He and his wife, Win, "walked, spoke, and ministered together as they drew upon each other's strengths, making themselves fully available to the God they served." I appreciated, so much, hearing of his great humility. In an early difficult time, he observed, "The Lord seemed to be saying, 'Harry, there are some things I can only do for you when you're alone.' I've transposed that insight into every difficult, testing situation since." He demonstrated his deep need for God and God's forgiveness. He did not present himself as above the masses, in spite of great responsibility and impressive gifting. I asked for this book for Christmas a few years ago, but only now got around to reading it. I'm so glad I did.

Compilation - 15 Books About Victorian London

Photo by Hert Niks on Unsplash

My favorite era/location for study is Victorian England. As a teen, I fell in love with Dickens. As a young adult, I pursued a masters degree in history with a focus on Victorian history. Thus, I often read books set in that time/country. Here are some past reads (with links to my reviews) for those who might be interested in fiction or non-fiction about Victorian London:

Fiction:

1. 12 Days at Bleakly Manor by Michelle Griep - 1st in Once Upon a Dickens Christmas series
2. A Tale of Two Hearts by Michelle Griep - 2nd in Once Upon a Dickens Christmas series
3. The Old Lace Shop by Michelle Griep - 3rd in Once Upon a Dickens Christmas series
4. Mr. Dickens and His Carol by Samantha Silva
5. Great Expectations by Charles Dickens 
6. At the Back of the North Wind by George MacDonald
7. The Clockmaker's Daughter by Kate Morton
8. Kidnapped by River Rats by Dave and Neta Jackson

Nonfiction:

1. Dirty Old London by Lee Jackson 
2. The Victorian City by Judith Flanders
3. A Metropolitan Murder by Lee Jackson (I apologize - on further review, this is a mystery novel)
4. London by A. N. Wilson
5. Victoria by Catherine Reef
6. The Wicked Boy by Kate Summerscale
7. The Five by Hallie Rubenhold

Missing Avenues for My Alto

The holidays bring so many memories associated with my alto horn. When I was in high school, my dad and I (on our cornet and alto) would venture out bright and early into the tube station tunnels in Chicago. We would set up the kettle and play duets for the crushing crowd of commuters until I had to leave for school. Several years back, a friend of mine passed along this photo of my dad playing at a kettle (I'm fairly certain that is the edge of my horn next to him) - she found it on eBay while searching for old Salvation Army images, so it has a watermark from some historical images company. Still, it brings back those morning jam sessions like it was yesterday.

I also remember playing through the Salvation Army carol book with my brothers so frequently that we had all the numbers memorized. In my senior year, when my parents were moved to Sioux Falls, South Dakota, I had to wrap my alto in a coat of foam to keep it from freezing as I stood out at the Army kettles. One night, a film crew from the local news station came by and I heard about it the next day from other students who watched (from the warm comfort of their homes - ha).

Since my husband has a masters in trumpet performance from Indiana University, he got in on the game after we married. My friends, Kris and MaryAnn Wood, were the officers at the DeKalb Salvation Army corps for a while. They invited John and I to join forces for their kettle effort. I remember one year, Kris promised to play his trombone from the roof of the corps if they made their goal for that year. I don't believe we joined him on the roof, but he kept his promise.

When we moved to the Indianapolis area, I anticipated the thrill of playing with an Army band again. I assumed there would be a corps band as vibrant as when my teen and college friends were in Indianapolis. Alas, no band. Still, I would play when they invited and after I purchased an alto on Craigslist, I often played for Christmas kettles at the Divisional Headquarters near the Children's Museum. They have since moved buildings and I don't receive invitations any longer.

Last night, while cruising through Facebook, I came across this video from High Bridge Brass. Alto soloist Nathan Miller performs a melodious version of Mary Did You Know?

In my teen years, back when my brothers called me "metallic lips" for practicing so many hours a day, I might have attempted a solo like this. Now, ha - fat chance! Still, it warms my heart to hear an outstanding musician make an alto horn sing! 

A Peek at my Pandemic Season

Celebrating:

I took our old camcorder videos to have them transferred to DVDs (am supposed to get them back today, in fact). Our library offers use of a machine for transferring VHS to DVD for free, but it has been closed since the lockdown started and besides, you must sit there at the machine throughout the lengthy process. While viewing the mini-camcorder tapes to discern chronological order, I viewed a bit of Bryce's birth video (not the actual birthing process, of course, but the preliminary days as my belly expanded and the initial days of his welcome home). John taped me on my 31st birthday, with infant Bryce lying on my chest and me piping up with "This is the best birthday present - to hold my newborn."

This past weekend, I celebrated my 55th birthday. Again, the best birthday present? Having my 24-year-old son home from Texas for a week-long visit! He drove all the way from Houston to see us and brought gifts: a set of my favorite colored pens for journaling and a copy of The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes by Suzanne Collins. I was tardy in placing my name on the library's hold list and dreaded waiting for 30 others to use their 3 week turn. Both Sean and I will enjoy the book. I also appreciated John's gifts (a t-shirt that reads "At times I think to myself, 'Drop the book and get stuff done!' Then, I laugh and turn the page." Plus, a new Sony CD player - much needed for my treadmill listening). We had a cook-out and DQ ice cream cake for dessert. It was fun to combine our celebrations, as we gave Bryce his belated birthday gifts.

We're laughing because I had to stand on the hearthstone in order to get my face close enough to his (he's almost 6'2") - ha!

Virtual Viewing:

Carey Nieuwhof wrote an interesting article outlining 7 new disruptive church trends. I can attest to 1 detail. Instead of viewing my home church's service, I tend to view Salvation Army services (often the Oakbrook Terrace corps service, where my brother and his family attend and where my nephew and his wife serve on the worship team). In addition, I seek the sermons of great preachers and apologists. This week, I've sought the convicting and inspiring words of Ravi Zacharias. A brilliant and articulate champion of the faith, Ravi died of cancer last week. If you have the time, I highly recommend this 12 minute video sharing some of his final thoughts:


Two longer (35-40 minute), but worthy investments of time: His Passion conference sermon and a sermon from Gateway Church, both from January 2020. I've also been watching the sermons of Dr. David Jeremiah. This 4 minute snippet of Dr. Jeremiah's sermon outlining all the positive results from past times of sheltering is encouraging:



When not listening to sermons, I relish Salvation Army brass banding fare. Here's a virtual performance of the Salvation Army song, "I'll Stand for Christ":



And I don't know if this Facebook video link will work (not sure what the poster has for privacy settings), but an outstanding performance of "Day by Day".

Close-up Viewing:

I bought a cedar bluebird feeder for John and he put it up in his bird sanctuary behind the house:

For days, it sat untouched, so John removed the plexiglass. Although I've seen a bird or two swoop in, grab seed, and fly away, this is primarily what I see when I sit at my upstairs desk (not the new desk), gazing out the window:

We get plenty of goldfinches, house finches, indigo buntings, bluejays, cardinals, orioles, hummingbirds, and woodpeckers:

I've also seen a fox (didn't capture photos) and a brown baby mink right up on the stones, catching a chipmunk, but the photo is unclear, and when I tried to crop it (mink in mddle of photo), it only blurred:

Thankfully, he came back (just now) and I captured some clearer shots:

Usually, we only see raccoons, skunks, opossums, and deer. Plus, I noticed a part-albino squirrel that lives in a nearby tree (full white tail, white underbelly, and four white paws - again no photos).

Purging:

Despite the sentiment on my new t-shirt, I applied myself to get something done and weeded through Sean's and my clothes. I know they were favorites, but did I really think I'd get back into those size 8 pants someday? We sent about ten bags to Goodwill, much to my husband's delight (oh, how that man loves to purge and re-organize).

Pondering:

After viewing videos of my days in DeKalb (prior to our move to IN when Bryce was 10) and reminiscing on my days in Oxford (thanks to a gentle stirring from a memoir), I've been pondering the irretrievable loss of my former self. I used to be intrepid: flew to NY without a job or housing lined up, walked across Harlem alone on a Saturday morning, seized whatever opportunities came my way, including the Wheaton-in-England program where I studied at Oxford). I used to be unflappable, handling unexpected changes with grace and understanding. Aggressive and driven, I had so many goals and dreams and wasn't the slightest bit intimidated by any of them. I handled any shifting path. Now, as John likes to say, I'm fragile. I don't rebound when difficulties arise, or handle stresses or changes in expectations. I'm nervous and easily irritated. I'm fearful and pessimistic.

At the beginning of the pandemic, I worried shortages might limit access to the medication for my clinical depression, so I began taking it every other day, until John insisted I go back to my normal dosage. All of that to say, I'm deeply saddened by my altered personality. Yet, no matter how much I wish to go back to the person I once was, I can see she's gone for good. If I had to pinpoint the alteration, it coincided with the isolation and identity-shift stemming from our move to Indiana and the birth of my last son at age 41. After almost fourteen years of this altered reality, I may never go back to being more adventurous than anxious, more driven than despairing, or more fearless than fragile. If I had known I was crossing the Rubicon, would I have entered the boat? R.I.P., old Wendy. Just know, you are sorely missed!

Where Did She Go?

Two days ago, my father posted an old photo of me on Facebook that has been haunting me ever since:

There I stand in my Salvation Army uniform, complete with the seldom-worn bonnet, looking eager and hopeful and full of life. I immediately remembered the location of the shot. It was taken in the dining room of the International College for Officers in London, England. ICO was an old house on Sydenham Hill used to provide training for Salvation Army officers from all over the world. They hired young girls to work as domestics. Up until this time, most of those girls came to England from the continent with aims of serving while taking classes to hone their English language skills. I believe I was the first American to fill the role and I was so very grateful for the opportunities afforded through that job. I met many delightful officers who invited me to come stay with them during my travels in the final months of that travel period. I was young and the whole world lay waiting for me to explore it.

(photos courtesy of The Salvation Army.org - obviously not my poor photography quality, ha)

Here are some blurry photos of my time serving in that dining room. If I could have removed them from the album without damaging either the photos or the album, I would have attempted to scan them. Alas, they were stuck fast after all these years, sorry).

The top photo was taken for a specific reason. I had written an article and submitted it to the British Salvation Army periodical called The War Cry. They wanted a publicity shot to go alongside the article and sent someone over to take the photo. They must have given me a copy of the shot and I must have sent it home in a letter to my parents (if my father found it in their belongings).

At that time in my life I was so sure of myself. I was going to do great things. I was going to see the world and change it for the better. I had plans to return to the States and enter graduate school to study for a masters degree in history, with the intention of one day working as a curator for a special collection of literature, not unlike my work with The Wade Collection at Wheaton College (where I transcribed all of C.S. Lewis's personal letters during my undergraduate days).

I also recently decided to take action on my husband's continual requests for me to purge my endless papers in the basement. I started with a file full of notebooks and papers from my days at Wheaton and the University of Illinois. I found my diplomas, a British Literature Handbook written by Professor Leland Ryken, many notebooks full of class notes, and my 37 page research paper entitled "The Integration of Law and Religion in 19th Century Britain," along with the accompanying comments and a grade of A- given by Professor Walter Arnstein. Of course, I kept most of those things still. They bring forth such intense longing within me to return to those days, to return to the person I once was. But that young woman is long gone.

In her place, there is a tired old woman who seems to accomplish nothing and seems to be going nowhere. I sit waiting for a writing career to take off and prove that my time here is of some value. Day by day passes and the most I can say is that I am raising my boys. Whether or not I am effective in raising them to be the young men I hope they will become is yet to be seen. But, as I look at the above photo, it brings forth so many unfulfilled hopes and dreams. I never did find a curator position. I left off my schooling after my masters degree, so that I could put my husband through graduate school. Then came children and the move to this isolated house to raise them and somewhere along the way, my ambitions and lust for life evaporated. How I long to be doing more with my one life! How I long to be making a difference in some way!

I went on-line the other night and, out of curiosity, plugged in the term "museum jobs in Indianapolis." While most of them brought feelings of indifference, there was a job I felt I may have been qualified for back in the day. It is a position with the Indiana Historical Society as Multicultural Collection Coordinator. There are many things I find appealing about the position. Its multicultural emphasis brings up so many of my feelings stirred in my missions work in the Philippines. The job requires completion of at least 20 oral histories and that brings to mind my experience with oral histories (I assisted Professor Lyle Dorsett as he interviewed C.S. Lewis's first cousin, Ruth Parker, and then went on to conduct my own oral history interviews with two elderly Salvationists when I wrote a history of The Salvation Army in Champaign-Urbana, Illinois, for their 100th anniversary). I absolutely loved conducting oral history interviews and writing up my findings. I would so love to work with a library again, as I did back at the Wade Collection, providing tours and leading individuals in their search for historical information.

But then, my inner naysayer kicks in and says, "Why would they possibly hire you? You haven't been in the workforce for a decade, your qualifications are all out-dated and dried up. You'd never get the job. Besides, you're more interested in part-time work, so that you can continue to pursue your writing." But then I take a look at that picture again and something stirs within me, a deep desire to re-capture the person I once was. As my life coach once told me, several years ago, I wasn't made to swim in the shallows. I was meant to swim in the deep. How to get back out into the deep? Now, there's the question of the hour. If only all it took was to put on a uniform and a bonnet again.

Caroling on K-Love

I mentioned in an earlier post that I was given the incredible opportunity of playing with an ensemble on K-Love's national radio station. Last night, my niece in Kentucky sent a message saying that she heard me on the radio. How cool is that!

Here's a photo of our group:

I'm holding my $60 Craigslist instrument and I'm the only one in the group not wearing an official Salvation Army uniform (gave mine away back when I got married and joined my husband's church; not to mention, that one probably wouldn't fit me now anyway).

If you want to hear the brief blurb you can either click here for the sound cloud bite or go to the K-Love Morning Show blog. At the blog site, you can find a second carol. (I'm the one playing the second part - in the harmony line-up.) I don't know if they'll end up playing all four carols at some point, but it was thrilling just to have this rare opportunity to play with the group on the radio.

Merry Christmas from our small Salvation Army band ensemble!

Preparing for Music Camp

Once again, this year I'll be on the faculty at The Salvation Army Indiana Division's annual music camp. I always feel humbled by their request for my participation because I don't really feel like I am naturally a great leader for the youth singing group. Having sat under some great leadership, I know how far I fall from the mark. The singers I will work with will be beginners at best. Plus, my biggest dilemma is that I never know what to have them sing.  To be honest, there's never been a great deal of selection available at my disposal. I sometimes feel like they are asking me to weave gold out of straw.

When I went in to look over the materials this year, I discovered that several split-track Cd's which were available in the past are no longer there (perhaps they were returned to the individual corps - churches - they came from). In fact, there was nothing with accompaniment and I'm not a pianist and have no pianist for an assistant (merely a camp staffer - probably a teenager at that). I began to feel really terrified.

The camp director gave me a few demo Cd's from Brentwood-Benson Music, but soon I discovered they were only demos and did not include the split-track Cd for accompaniment purposes. Nonetheless, I fell in love with the first two songs for a musical called "Here for the Gold." They are quite upbeat and have melodies which are infectious and fun. So, I have requested the purchase (too expensive and wishing the company would make downloads of the individual songs for a reduced price from the package deal, since we are not actually performing the entire musical, just using two selections). Now, my stress is the worry that the music will not arrive in time for the camp.

Still, I am beginning to feel excited about the prospect of camp. I was hesitant to participate again because I felt stretched so thin in the past two years (with somewhere around 7 or 8 assignments for the week), but I was happy to learn that, with new leadership, they are streamlining some things and cutting out some others, which will mean far fewer assignments and more of a chance to relax and enjoy the week. The staff is smaller but I already feel a sense of kinship with the individuals selected.

I located my son's pretend microphone (something I had wanted to have the students take turns using for fun and to get them to feel more comfortable singing in front of others) and am bringing an old coffee container for students to take turns practicing keeping rhythm. I will spend a fair amount of time reviewing the wonderful videos on You Tube by Kathie Hill (who does a remarkable job of illustrating techniques for teaching kids to sing). Hopefully, the closer the date gets, the more prepared I will feel for the task before me. Plus, I genuinely hope that the students have fun and make great memories.

Heading to Music Camp

Over the past five years, Bryce has relished the opportunity to attend The Salvation Army's Indiana Divisional Music Camp.  We've been grateful for his involvement.  When he entered high school, he learned that you had to be in the marching band if you wished to pursue the band class.  Thus, given his intense schedule with football and wrestling, he opted out of participating in band.  He's an outstanding drummer, with intense natural ability, and this camp is perhaps his only chance to play music in an organization (okay, our corps wishes he would volunteer to play drums with the Sunday morning praise band, but his attendance is sporadic and he doesn't wish to be involved).

This is the first year, however, when I will be able to attend the camp with Bryce.  I have so many fond memories of my childhood and teenage years, attending Salvation Army music camps.  I would count down the days until the next camp every year.  I have never before been on staff.  This year, I was asked to lead the 9-12 year old chorus and the Puppetry elective class.  I will admit that I am a bit nervous about my abilities to fulfill these leadership positions.  I haven't led a singing company (Salvation Army-speak for youth choir) since my graduate school days, over twenty years ago.  I've never taught a puppet class, or even ministered with puppets all that much, but I have been collecting small puppets here and there over the years.

My husband could really be teaching the puppet class.  For years, he would regale Bryce with puppet performances by Ronald McDonald (a puppet we received when we scheduled Bryce's 4th birthday party there) and Dopey and Woody.  Each of them had their own distinctive personalities and he did an outstanding job of altering his voice for each character.  Of course, they were sometimes naughty.  Woody did teach Bryce a little ditty that went: "Roses are red, violets are blue, poopies are stinky and so are you."  I was mortified when Bryce stood on his chair at church and repeated Woody's silly poem.

I am hoping and praying that we will have a really good time and that the students will benefit from whatever it is I can offer them in the way of instruction.  The main supervisor told me not to be nervous because "this isn't university ... it's just camp!"  I'm also praying my boys will be well-behaved in my absence.  I have two sitters lined up for Saturdays (when John works) and my mother-in-law is covering three days during the week.  It will be neat to have this memory with Bryce and fun to be involved in a music camp again, after so many years.

Our CBLI Experience - Part One

Prior to leaving for CBLI (Central Bible Leadership Institute), we had five days of peaceful quiet. Trevor spent from Sunday through Thursday at his grandmother's house. It seems horrible to say, but all of us enjoyed the quiet. I accomplished so much more than usual. Bryce and Sean spent loads of time cuddled in with each other on the couch or bed playing with I-Pods.

Amazingly, Grandma said that Trevor was as good as gold. The moment we arrived (Thursday night), he began showing off for his brothers. It was good to know that he behaved for Grandma, but it sure would be nice if we had a bit less attention seeking here in our home. Ha!

We spent the night there Thursday and then headed for CBLI on Friday morning. Before we left, Trevor showed us the helmet and knife Grandpa used during World War II:




He also presented Sean with some gifts that Grandma allowed him to buy: a necklace (broken within an hour - sob,sob) and this "adorable" shirt (?).



We were placed in Sandpiper cabin again this year, which meant a huge walk up a steep hill several times each day. It also meant no Internet access. However, the real plus to Sandpiper is the close proximity to friends and a lounge to watch movies in (I watched "A Beautiful Mind" in the evening while the boys slept) and play. Of course, there's always the hallway, too:



The boys were really pleased with their classes. Trevor's kid's track featured loads of exploratory science experiments. They made slime, dropped eggs from a tall ladder (attempting to avoid breaking), decorated a t-shirt, and investigated owl pellets (yuck). He also loved the daily trips to the pool.

Sean's 4s and 5s class studied bugs and God's creation. Sean even was able to hold a tarantula, with no squeamishness at all. At the end of camp, they always present a video about what has gone on in the small children's classes. This year they asked the fours and fives questions designed to get "kids-say-the-darnedest-things" kind of responses. Sean delivered when he answered their question of who the Commissioner is. When asked what he wants to be when he grows up? Tall! You can view this here It is a short, five minute video.

The boys also enjoyed the carnival on Wednesday. They played games and had their faces/arms painted. With tickets won at the games, they were able to buy some cool prizes (like a Paper Jamz guitar, Hot Wheels cars, etc.).




As for me, perhaps I was just in the right place for things to mesh, but I would say this was the most productive year for me, spiritually, in a long time. I appreciated Commissioner Ken Baillie's instruction during the Bible Study time (didn't miss one - a first). Plus, I really gained a lot from Linda Himes' class on Titus. It was a precept class. Generally, I find this method of study quite tedious with all the focus on individual words and the circling and underlining and noting. However, when it comes to Linda Himes' classes, she always manages to bring us around by the final class to a place where the whole thing gels into a complete picture. For me, I liken it to a painter, painstakingly making little dots on a canvas, until in the end it reveals a bigger picture that is beautiful and uplifting. More than anything, I believe these two classes stirred within me a passionate desire to get back into the Word of God more fully (and more daily).

I was also thrilled with the leadership of Major Steve Yoder. From the outset of the first evening meeting, he did a fabulous job of making everyone feel welcome and included. After getting things off the ground, Linda Himes led us in a massive game of Bunco (new for me). Even though it was a bit intimidating at first, it provided a wonderful ice-breaker so that we left feeling we had made connections with the other adults at camp. Usually, it takes me about three days to feel a sense of belonging at CBLI. This year, Steve and Linda produced that feeling by the end of the welcome meeting.

But my favorite day of all was the second Friday. On that day, one of my married friends, Tom and Cheryl, offered inclusion in a Ladies Day Out. Tom took on numerous children (ten to twelve, I'm guessing) and supervised them (with the help of the lifeguards) at the pool, while us ladies went into Antioch, Illinois.

We began our time at a delightful ice cream shop, then posed for a funny photo in front of the tattoo parlor (humorous because some of us are Salvation Army officers), then investigated an interesting jewelry shop (bedecked with posed mannequins that made me slightly uncomfortable - ha) and rounded out our time at the local thrift shop (where I found an educational insect game, three workbooks, a Thomas Kincaid print and a frame - all for about $6). This is the kind of thing that I just don't get enough of these days and I thanked Tom and Cheryl profusely!

Addressing the Missing Social Spokes

Our new Salvation Army corps officers recently requested volunteers to help take some disadvantaged children to Target for some back-to-school shopping. Although I don't want to take on so much that I feel even more depleted than I already am (caring for three boys and a husband), I do believe that volunteering helps to meet my personal need for social interaction and caring (as Liz commented on the last post). When I discovered the officers would provide supervision for Sean in the gym while I assisted (Trevor is visiting his Grandma for a few days), I jumped at the opportunity.

I was paired with a delightful 6th grader named Monay. She told me that she is named after the artist Monet, but her mother wanted to spell it differently. She just recently moved into the neighborhood near our Salvation Army corps and came with her younger sister, Dayonna, who is going into kindergarten.

We were given a budget of $80 for the purchase of school uniforms and school supplies. Monay was my kind of girl. She explained to me at the outset that when she shops with her Mom, they find something and then hang it on the end of the cart handle. If they find a similar item for a cheaper price, they return the more expensive item to the racks and place their final choice in the cart.

Monay was true to her word, and a delight to shop with. As we neared the end of her list, she ran into her sister and sister's shopping buddy. She turned into an extension of her mother. She picked up each extravagant item and informed her sister that she really didn't need an $11 pencil box that looked like a mini suitcase, covered in sparkles and labelled for a princess when she could purchase a plastic one for 50 cents and then have more to spend on other school supplies she really needed, like glue and pencils and markers.

As we sat waiting for all the other children to finish going through the check-out line, Monay turned to me and told me that she really enjoyed shopping with me. That made my day!

Here is a photo of me and Monay:



And one of her little sister, Dayonna:



Later that day, I visited with a lovely retired lady named Delores. I met Delores a few weeks ago, when she was having a garage sale at her son's home. She was selling the cutest little note cards accompanied by a tea bag holder and tea bag, with this little poem tucked inside:

"Wish we could get together
and have a cup of tea,
but since we can't
when you drink this
I hope you'll think of me."

I purchased one and sent it to my mother. Then, I began to kick myself for not purchasing more (they were only 50 cents each). So, I drove back to the house and asked for her name and number. She invited me to come to her house and purchase more.

Here are the six additional ones I purchased:





I plan to give one to my mother-in-law, since she is often looking for little money-making projects for bazaars at her Salvation Army corps.

It was such a lovely thing to stand and chat with Delores for a while. She certainly puts people at ease. I found myself telling her all about our house here, my parents in Florida, their ministry to retired officers, my family Christmas visits and how spread out my family is. When she heard that my brother lives in Kentucky, she asked where. She couldn't believe it when I explained that he used to live in Wilmore. That is the exact town her nephew lives in because he attends Asbury College. I went on to tell her that my father went to Asbury and so did my brother, Mark, and sister, Dawn.

I'm feeling like the social spokes, which have been neglected, are finally being restored somewhat. Plus, I have a handful of clever little crafts to give out to others.

Longing for the Road Not Taken

There was a time when my musical instrument was my passion. And I mean PASSION! During the high school years, I practiced so many hours on my Alto Horn (a brass instrument slightly smaller than a baritone and in the key of E-flat) that my brothers began to call me "Metallic Lips." I had a clear goal and I would stop at nothing until I reached it. That goal was to make it into the very top band, Wonderland Band, at Central Music Institute (a famed Salvation Army band camp in the Central Territory).

Make it, I DID! I will never forget the first rehearsal. A friend of mine, Kevin, was also getting his first exposure to playing in a top-notch band like Wonderland Band. He and I exchanged glances that said, "Can you believe we're here? Can you believe we are living this incredible dream?" It was powerful. I wanted that moment to last forever. I wanted that music to last forever. I wanted those friendships, honed in part by the music, to last forever.

Forever DIDN'T happen. Life intervened. Shortly before my senior year in high school, I was approached by the bandmaster of the Chicago Staff Band with news of an opening in the horn section the following January. All I needed to do was graduate from high school one semester early. Sadly, my parents (S.A. officers) received moving orders and the South Dakota high school I moved to placed my three remaining courses in the second semester, ruining my one chance of joining that prestigious band.

I carried my passion overseas after college, when I worked at The Salvation Army's International College for Officers. I attended a large London corps where I was refused admittance to their senior band. Even though my abilities matched those in the horn section, they were not yet allowing women in the upper band. I was offered a spot in the junior band and time in their weekly rehearsals. I decided to make do with the rehearsal time and, again, thoroughly enjoyed the opportunity of playing with an outstanding Salvation Army band.

When I returned from London, I began graduate school at the University of Illinois and eventually met and married my non-Salvationist husband. I kept hoping, over the years, that somehow the Army would lure my husband in (since he has a masters degree in trumpet performance and is a far more gifted musician than I am). Alas, that hasn't happened. I haven't played regularly in a Salvation Army band since we married.

I have been able to get my Salvation Army fix from our annual attendance at our ten day Bible camp (CBLI) and sporadic corps attendance over the years. I am able to sing those great Salvation Army hymns and associate with Army friends. But my passion for Army banding has lain dormant, burning like an ember that refuses to be fully snuffed out.

This past week, I have found myself in full-blown homesickness ... homesick for those moments of belonging to an Army band ... moments of hearing the tones blend in such a way that an audience can be moved to a spiritual pitch of worship unlike any other. The Chicago Staff Band has been in London performing with various other Salvation Army staff bands. I have viewed the photos of old friends who are living my dormant dream. I have watched the videos of a magnificent march up the mall towards Buckingham Palace (the very Palace I was privileged to visit with my Upper Norwood friend, Ray). It makes me want to weep.

But, I am holding back my tears and clinging to the promise of God's wisdom for my life. A few weeks ago, I spent a few days with a faithful Army friend, Lisa (who also left the Army when life intervened). As we talked, she was marvelling at all the amazing opportunities God brought my way in my twenties. She married young and had children early (and is already enjoying the grandparent phase of life), while I travelled the world and had my children late (what feels like my geriatric years).

I regaled her with my tale of tea with Ray at the Palace. I told her about the awesome privilege of an invitation to tea with theologian John R. Stott, while at Wheaton College. She listened as I explained how I landed a job transcribing C.S. Lewis' personal letters for four years. Then, I told of the rare chance I had to travel with Dr. Lyle Dorsett and his wife to Scotland for an oral history interview with C.S. Lewis' first cousin, Ruth Parker. During my time at ICO (International College for Officers) I was able to return for an individual visit with Ruth Parker and bring her a Madeira cake (her favorite). I travelled with a missions group to the Philippines. The Lord blessed me with so many fantastic, enviable opportunities.

So, while I sit here in my little farmhouse, babbling with preschoolers all day every day, Lisa declared it "no small wonder" that I am casting backward glances to the many opportunities of days gone by. My heart is frantically searching for direction, some passion to move my life in a direction of purpose ... to regain an identity apart from my mothering role. It is too easy to look back and say, "Lord, why did you carry my feet on a different path than I expected?"

At this point, I have to continue looking to God and asking Him to guide my steps, even if they lead away from passions like Army banding. Perhaps I must carve out a new purpose and goal for my life. I truly pray that He has more amazing opportunities lying just ahead of me, waiting to be seized. And I'm also praying that He won't turn me to a pillar of salt (like Lot's wife, who, leaving family behind cast back a wistful glance) for my longing for the road not taken. It can't hurt to put a further Army banding opportunity on my bucket list, can it? Only God knows where my feet are headed. All I can do is lay my passions and my willingness at His feet.

Ah, The Irony!

Yesterday, I mentioned my brother-in-law, David, and his efforts with The Salvation Army to provide disaster relief services to the people of Haiti. He is returning home this evening, while my own corps officer, Captain Geffory Crowell, is arriving there to continue those efforts. I'm sure my sister, Dawn, and their kids, will be eager to see him arrive home safely.

There's a funny story that I must share about Dawn and David. As I said in the previous post, our parents were Salvation Army officers. Thus, there are many aspects of life which Dawn and David shared automatically while going into marriage. Life in The Salvation Army is a particular culture and sharing that culture with your spouse has to be a great blessing. When both individuals are officer's kids, there are numerous shared experiences you could expect.

When we all gathered together for David and Dawn's wedding (19 years ago), David's sister, Julie, stood to share some words. As she spoke, she began to share a story about a time when her father went to pick David up from middle school in the only vehicle available, the Army's canteen.

If you don't know what a Salvation Army canteen looks like, here are a few examples (one from the present efforts in Haiti and one from a Salvation Army news blurb):



These are small recreational vehicles, equipped with refrigerator, microwave, cooking supplies, etc., which are used to distribute food and beverages during disaster relief efforts.

As Julie continued her story, all of my family began to stifle chuckles and glance furtively at each other. She went on to say that David was not going to have anything to do with being picked up from school (middle school, no less!) in the canteen, so he dashed back inside the school and hid.

I don't remember if the story ended exactly the same or not, but my whole family was in stitches. The exact same scenario played out in our family. My dad had gone to pick up my sister, Dawn, from middle school in the canteen. Dawn ran back inside and called a cab.

As we sat there, enjoying a good chuckle, none of us knew that David and Dawn would go on to become Salvation Army officers. None of us had a clue that they would become so extensively trained in disaster relief themselves. I imagine God had a good laugh, as well. He knows the plans He has for us!

Now, I'm wondering whether or not they have ever pulled that stunt on their kids. Their oldest child, a daughter, is the same age as my eldest son. If they ever renew their vows, I suggest they ride off in a Salvation Army canteen, dragging cans, with a sign saying, "Give us your poor, your tired, your hungry ... we truly care!"

Tied Up With a David Bow ( but not David Bowie)

Today, I have been thinking about my oldest brother, David. Older brothers can be a marvelous thing. They can be fiercely protective, incredibly inventive and thoroughly cool; plus, they can help you gain access to circles you might otherwise have missed out on.

Every Sunday when I attend The Salvation Army corps here in Indianapolis, they conclude their service with a united benediction called "Total Praise."

Lord, I will lift mine eyes to the hills
Knowing my help is coming from You
Your peace You give me in time of the storm
You are the source of my strength
You are the strength of my life
I lift my hands in total praise to You.
You are the source of my strength
You are the strength of my life
I lift my hands in total praise to You.
Amen, amen Amen, amen
Amen, amen Amen, amen

I would love to say that when I sing this chorus, I focus on giving my total praise to the Lord. However, every Sunday, my focus is distracted by the actual music itself. You see, the sound track they use features an ensemble which includes my brother, David, and my sister-in-law, Miriam. For the life of me, I can't listen to this song without thinking about my brother (and about Miriam).

When I hear their voices rising over everyone else's (which is what happens for me), I am assaulted with feelings of love and longing. I feel great love for David and Miriam. But, I also feel sad that distance and the busyness of life have become an obstacle to the closeness I feel for them. I suppose that is why I have spent some time thinking about David today.


- David and Miriam and their youngest daughter, Kari.

He was always a protective big brother. When I was a freshman in high school, my parents had just moved to Chicago. I attended Carl Schurz, a large public school. My brother, Mark, who was only one year older, had managed to secure a spot at Lane Technical High School, so he didn't attend the same school. If David, who was a senior, had not gone to my school (even though he only attended about half of the day ... how did he manage that?), I would have felt terribly overwhelmed. I knew David would look out for me.

He was also a master at grand ideas. When we were younger, he gathered us together to look for old discarded Coke bottles. Dragging our wagon behind us, we would find as many bottles as we could, then walk with him up to the confectionery and purchase small candies with the deposit money we earned.

Moreover, he was just plain cool. During our high school years, we participated in the Northern Illinois Youth Band together. Several of the older kids, the ones who were David's age, would get together to make zany films together. Even though I wasn't really a part of their crowd (they were mostly guys), I was allowed to tag along for many of these adventures.

It was always obvious that the older girls would seek out my friendship, not for me, but because getting closer to me meant a chance at possibly getting closer to my ultra-cool, very good-looking big brothers. I was just the younger sister (in fact, several of them called me "Gidget" - somehow they said I reminded them of Gidget), but I didn't mind the extra attention via my brothers.


- Back in the day ;)

I fully realized that my older brothers were responsible for most of the social circles I frequented. What a blessing it was to walk in David's shadow. He had great friends and, as a result, they often became my friends.

In fact, I have spent quite a bit of time this weekend praying for some friends who are my friends via David. When David and Miriam first encouraged me to attend CBLI, they worked in the children's program with their good friends, another set of officers, Todd and Cathy T. Through David and Miriam, and through our numerous years at CBLI together, Todd and Cathy became my friends as well. In fact, Todd has always been kind to involve my sons in his fishing exploits at camp.

This weekend, I discovered that their 19 year old son, Trevor, had surgery to remove a brain tumor. Trevor and his wife are mere days away from welcoming their first child. At this point, the news is good. The doctors were aggressive and believe they removed most, if not all, of the tumor. Plus, he is eating and is up walking around.

Still, they will remain in my prayers. And as I pray for them (and yet another cancer victim), I will also be lifting praise to God for my brother, David, because through him God has blessed me with an extended circle of friends. I'll also say a word of thanks that even though I can't see David as often as I would like, I can listen to him preach whenever I want (another blessing). Plus, I get to sing (of God's peace in the midst of storm) with him on Sundays, even when he's not standing next to me.

Stepping Back in Time, with One Foot Planted in the Present

Sometimes, when you are young, you don't really grasp the enormity of opportunities which lie before you. You take everything in stride, because "this is just how life is". You aren't keenly aware that life could, in fact, be different in any way.

I have had a chance to look back on my own youth and recognize the blessings and opportunities I took for granted. Sadly, those opportunities really aren't available for me now. But, I did have a rare and wonderful weekend to plunge myself back into the realities of my youth and ponder anew God's many gifts, especially music, friendship, and spiritual support.

Music has always been vitally important to me. When we were kids and reached the age of seven, my father taught us how to play an instrument. Three or four years later, we were allowed to decide if we wished to continue. I believe most of us stuck with it. I know that my two older brothers and I did, because when we moved to Chicago, at the beginning of my freshman year, we were allowed to join the Northern Illinois Youth Band.

Despite the fact that there were few young people at our Salvation Army corps appointment, we were able to nurture friendships with other music-minded teens from around the Chicago division. Looking back on those days, I realize how fantastic that opportunity was. The sense of belonging was intense. The friendships were solid. I knew that if I had any difficulties at all, I could freely share them with my youth band friends and they would rally around me.

Last weekend, with the blessing of my husband (who bravely kept the three boys at home), I travelled back to Camp Wonderland to attend the 75th Central Music Institute's Alumni Reunion. I attended CMI from 1979-84. My father attended during his teenage years. I had hoped that my ES would attend this year, but his summer had already been so busy and it would have meant him missing the first three days of school. As a teenager, CMI was the highlight of my year. As soon as it ended, I began counting down the days until CMI would come the following year.

Thus, I was thrilled to be able to enjoy a weekend getaway and relive memories of that fabulous music camp experience. Many of my Northern Illinois Youth Band friends (who had watched the event grow in its appeal through Facebook updates) were there as well. And, the special guests for this year's CMI were our old NIYB bandmaster, Dr. John Richmond, and a bandmaster my husband sat under at the University of Illinois, Dr. Jim Curnow.

What a blast from the past! We stayed up late talking and reminiscing. We gals shared a cramped cabin with one bathroom and talked fashion (well, they talked fashion ... I listened and marvelled) and old times, just like when we were 16. Of course, these conversations were also peppered with remarks about ailments and health challenges, children, marriage, and jobs. We stood back, amazed at how each of our personalities has remained the same over these many years. We contemplated pranks to pull on the guys in the cabin next door, but in the end, were too exhausted to carry them out. We shared joys and trials and we wondered why we ever allowed a quarter of a century to go by without rekindling these fast friendships.






Saturday evening we were up until almost two in the morning, reliving memories from our youth band days: My tendency to click on my valves during any string band performances. Youth band trips to various destinations (like Missouri, Pennsylvania, North Carolina). Various things that went wrong on those trips, like ... the outdoor concert, in NC, where every breath we took in and blew out, processed a million horrid gnats ... the concert in PA, (or was it Delaware?) where the bandmaster stopped at one point, turned to the audience and said, "I'm sorry. The bandmaster has made a mistake." and later on, to poke fun, the band stopped and said, "We're sorry. The band has made a mistake." ... or the time the Army people at our destination forgot that we were coming and thus, we all stood around on the evening of our arrival being divided up into impromptu billets where the families clearly had not been expecting us!

But, just as nostalgic as the friends made me, the music knocked the breath out of me as well. I guess I really hadn't realized how long it has been since I have read music and performed with a group, either a vocal group or a band. During the Saturday morning rehearsal for the Alumni Chorus, under the direction of Dr. John Richmond, I kept turning to friends and explaining that I felt like a deer in the headlights.

Granted, John Richmond is a choir leader extraordinaire. He articulates the need for focus. He gently reminds us of technical clues and notations. We only had a limited time to rehearse and we sat in our chairs mesmerized by the sheer magnitude of the fact that we were singing under John Richmond's direction again.

At that point, it was still nostalgic fun. Saturday afternoon, we had a brief rehearsal for the Alumni Band. I haven't really played regularly in a Salvation Army band since my graduate school years in Champaign, Illinois, during 1988-90. I was thrilled to be able to sit in the second horn section (while in the past, I would have clamored for the first or solo horn section). Lisa, a NIYB friend, sat behind me in last chair. We were both simultaneously amused and mortified by our mistakes. Key changes were deadly.

It felt so amazing to hold the horn to my lips once again. I was enjoying every minute of it, until John Richmond came forward to sing during a piece called "Our Petition." (You may watch our performance with him here, at the 15:00 mark). I have vivid memories of this piece and John Richmond's voice singing these poignant words. As he began to sing, during the rehearsal, the magnitude of my loss began to overwhelm me. I finished that song and the next fighting back tears.

I don't know if I can even articulate what it feels like to participate in a Salvation Army brass band. The music isn't just a catchy tune, it is music which has been written to honor God and to stir souls. It is, as John Richmond reminded us in our choral rehearsal, a high calling to present music. Musicians fulfill a ministry of the priesthood (oh, if I could only recall his specific words!). When I sit in a band and play such music, it moves me beyond anything else I know. I have always felt that way, but I had forgotten. Now, the "what-ifs" and the "whys" of the course of my life, the paths which led away from The Salvation Army and away from those brass banding opportunities, flooded over me.

I looked down and noticed Peggy Paton Thomas watching our rehearsal. This only caused the tears to fall more intensely. She gave up so much of her time during my teen years to offer me private lessons, gratis. I could never thank her enough, because it meant a lot to me. But, it felt so sad to sit there struggling with the music and wrestling with God over the horn that was set aside.

I called my husband and tried to share my emotions with him. Somehow, with the kids clamoring in the background and him moaning over how the boys destroyed all his cleaning efforts during the four hours when he was at work that morning, I don't think he understood. His final words shook me back to reality. He said, "Well, it's not like there's any opportunity for you to pick up a horn now, anyway."

Finally, I was thrilled to partake of those old opportunities for spiritual support. As I said, my youth band friends readily offered spiritual support back in those days. At CMI encampments and other occasions, we met in groups at the altar and prayed for God to walk us through the trials and difficulties of adolescence. But, now we were standing in the services watching those in our children's peer groups line the altars and pray together in close-knit clusters.

Towards the end of the Sunday morning service, as the altar call (in the Salvation Army, at the close of a service, you are always invited to come forward to kneel at an altar and address any spiritual needs you might have) purred along, the friend next to me grabbed my hand and held it tight. Soon, another friend approached and had a word with me.

She wanted to apologize for not being aware of my recent isolation and loneliness in this move to Indiana. She offered such sincere comfort. Her words were soothing and a balm to my soul. "You are not alone... I'll be praying for you... Let me give you my phone number ... it would be great if you could find a mentor, or someone to meet with regularly to share and pray with ... etc." That meant so much to me.

And for all of it - the music, the friendship and the spiritual support - I consider myself so fortunate to have been able to attend that CMI reunion. I know she was right. I am not alone. Several of the other friends who attended, felt the same needs met. As women, we can pour our lives into meeting the needs of our families and forget that we are still those same girls of our youth and need friendships and passions and spiritual support.

This past week, Pete, one of my CMI friends, posted an enticing status on Facebook. He suggested offering monthly CMI refreshers. I'm sure I could never get away for a weekend every month. But, boy did it whet my appetite. The thought of more than annual gatherings. It is too much. Not to mention, we'd get to sing the CMI theme song more often. What a blast!

More CBLI (With Photos) - Part II

The Tuesday evening Western Hoedown Family Night turned out to be a lot of fun, as well. After a picnic cookout, numerous activities were available. At each activity, the participant received a ticket. There were pony rides (my boys wouldn't even consider it, but if I had a daughter, I'm betting she would have been in the line several times), stick horse races, watermelon seed spitting competitions, a jail (which required $1 bail, with proceeds going to the missionary collection), a beaded bandana craft (which Trevor tried), face painting and a spot where you could get a family photo taken.

If my scanner worked, I would scan the professional photo they took at that booth. Instead, here is a photo a friend snapped of us on our way down to the festivities.


I think my boys enjoyed the petting zoo the most, though. We returned to that area time and again. At one point, Sean was holding a baby chick and quietly set it down on the ground. Mayhem ensued as everyone around tried to wrangle the baby chick to come out from under the wagon where most of the animals were penned.


At the end of the activities, we accumulated enough tickets for Sean to purchase a lovely hardback Scholastic book on Bikes, Cars, Trucks, and Trains and Trevor to purchase a truck from the county store.

The boys didn't last long for that evening's viewing of "Toy Story 2", but the following evening (when most of the camp was enjoying a day at Great America) they sat still through an entire showing of "Journey to the Center of the Earth." Go figure!

The other meeting they couldn't possibly manage was the Saturday evening Kids program. I managed to keep them quiet and seated long enough for them to watch the videos of highlights of their individual programs (2s - 3s and 4s - 5s). Sean seemed to be in so many of the photos. He especially loved the ball pit. At the end of the video for his track, there is an adorable image of Trevor and Sean on the hayride, Trevor with his arm draped protectively over Sean. If you would like to view these brief videos click here, and toggle over to the 13 minute mark. This is the Saturday evening program (they have begun streaming the programs live so people at home can watch). The videos are introduced around the 13 minute mark and are about five minutes long, each.

It is actually quite cool that they are now offering videos of the meetings on line. My parents were able to watch a few meetings live from their computers. One of the highlights of the final Sunday morning service was a drama presented by the teens. It was a very powerful experience and one I highly recommend viewing. During this same service, a woman sang a Nicole Nordeman song, that I am determined to find. Thankfully, I can watch it all over again and gain clues to help find it.

Still, it doesn't beat being there! For example, it was such a stirring blessing to sing "The Days of Elijah" in the first Sunday morning meeting - at the 8:40 mark - yet, when you watch it on-line, it cannot carry the intense feeling you get singing it in the midst of the crowded sanctuary. It was amazing and so worshipful!

We had such a wonderful time at CBLI this year. The food was especially good this year. There were loads of options and I was surprised by how much fruit was available. As mentioned before, we ate very well and I ate a tad too many desserts. I think my all-time favorites are their monster cookies. The cook was very friendly this year. Several times, he offered to carry trays for families or would stop by and ask if we needed anything. And, mealtimes were so much easier this year, now that I have a 2-1/2 year old and a 4-1/2 year old. No stroller to deal with. Both boys fed themselves for the most part. Trevor even enjoyed the privilege of carrying his own tray up to the counter and dumping silverware in the big bucket of water (sorry for those individuals who may have been splashed when he enjoyed it a bit too much).

Plus (a big PLUS), thankfully, no sickness this year! I was remembering last year (and a highlight I failed to mention - probably because it was just too over the top). On our way home from last year's CBLI, I had to administer Trevor's eye drops for his pink eye. At the camp, I had been placing him on the floor and holding him down to get them in. This time, I didn't want to put him on the McDonald's floor, so I attempted to give him the drops while seated in his car seat in the van. Not only did we attract an audience (because the kid was shrieking like I was attempting to kill him, not rid him of infection), but he threw up all over his clothes and his car seat. Ah, aren't kids delightful?

So, as I wrap up this year's CBLI, I have to say it was a really good year. Of course, I'm still wishing there were some way to change the focus of this event. I understand that the purpose of CBLI is to nurture leadership within The Salvation Army. I appreciate the many years I have been allowed to attend (despite my lack of leadership responsibility within The Army). But, every year, I find myself wishing I could bring along someone else, another family, to be blessed by this splendid opportunity. If I could choose anyone, right now, it would be to bring Cardiogirl and her girls along with us next year. Wouldn't that be a fabulous vision for such an encampment. The theme could be "each one reach one!" At least I can hope that others are blessed by experiencing it via my blog!

Live from CBLI, it's Tuesday Afternoon

I have been trying, since I arrived at CBLI, to access the internet. Most of the time, I have been unable to (either because the connection isn't strong enough, or because the system is overloaded with people). My mind has been full of ideas and emotions, but I haven't been able to get them down, not even in a word file.

Perhaps it is merely the nature of camp life, but my overwhelming need (and thankfully, the need of my two little guys) has been for SLEEP! I have slept more than I would at home and yet every day find myself yawning more and more. One of my goals for CBLI, was to recharge my physical and spiritual batteries. I believe I am meeting that goal.

I love the feeling that I get when I am driving to CBLI. It is like the world is wide open in front of me. We had moments of this while driving. The sky was a beautiful blue, filled with numerous puffy clouds.

Then came the construction and the traffic jams. We were still headed in a glorious direction, but were momentarily (sometimes it felt quite lengthy, instead of momentary) frustrated from reaching our goal.

This is how camp tends to go with me. Highs and lows. Feelings of great spiritual stirring, mixed with times of loneliness and ache. Excitement over where we're headed, mixed with frustration that I haven't yet arrived.

We were greatly blessed in our housing this year. We received a room in the Wonderland Lodge(the equivalent of a large hotel room). Indeed, Trevor been inviting people to our room all week, telling them that we are in the big hotel, in room 110. It is very spacious. Plus, it is conveniently located in the same building where the two boys' classes meet.

The programs so far have been outstanding as well. The first evening, kicked off with a theatrical rendering of the story of David and Goliath, by Lt. Colonel Eddie Hobgood. The second evening offered another theatrical performance, this time telling the story of "Joe the Turk," a figure of Salvation Army history.

The Sunday services featured the preaching of Commissioners Alex and Inge Hughes. During the morning service, I noticed Bryce head towards the altar during the altar call at the end of the service. I was able to find my nephew, Eric, and ask him to pray with Bryce. As I sat nearby, praying for my son, that God would draw him close and move in his life, I became overwhelmed with the depth of God's love for ME. I was aware of the intensity of my own love for my son and began to think about how he is merely on loan to me and that, as much as I love Bryce, God loves him even more. Suddenly, my own doubts concerning God's love for me were quelled.

Then, last night, we enjoyed the rousing preaching of Captain Terry Masango (from Zimbabwe, serving as a missionary here in the States, in the Western Territory). He preached of Ezekiel's encounter with the valley of dry bones. Ezekiel, of his own strength, could not raise an army from the dry bones, but he held unswerving belief and conviction that God could do that work. Captain Masango then boldly asked if any individuals were dry and in need of the Holy Spirit's filling. The altar was lined with young people, and again, my son, headed forward, this time with a group of fellow teens.

My morning classes have been equally profitable. My first class of the day is entitled, "Igniting the Hope Within You," and has been taught by Linda Himes. This class was very much like putting together a puzzle full of small pieces and then standing back to look at the whole picture. We began with the story of Ruth and looked at the role of the kinsman redeemer. Then, in following Scriptures from Genesis through Revelation, we reviewed God's plan and His fulfillment of the role as our Kinsman Redeemer. It was a powerful lesson and one I will return to digest more fully, I'm sure.

The Bible class has been led by Commissioner Alex Hughes. With his pleasant Scottish lilt, he has inspired us to look at God's vision for the church. Time and again, I seem to be reminded that the power for creating the changes God desires in men's hearts and minds comes only from the Lord.

Of course, we have been enjoying our afternoon free times as well. Saturday and Sunday, I thought I would never be able to drag my boys away from the pool. They had such a good time (despite my inability to handle long hours in the sun). And every single afternoon, I have managed to get them both down for a nap. In fact, this is the first time they have napped and I have remained awake. So, we are getting sleep at night and in the afternoons.

I have hopes to get them down by the lake some time when another camper is fishing. Todd Thielke, who was always so good to fish with Bryce when he was small, has offered to let the little boys watch him fish - since I intentionally failed to bring our rods this year. I wasn't quite up to the prospect of fish hooks and piers mixed with two and four-year-old boys. I would also like to take them on a paddle boat ride before the camp ends. Plus, we haven't even made it to the snack bar once yet (ah, I love walking from their classes back to our rooms - thereby not even passing the snack bar, where people wait, in mosquito-laden darkness to purchase ice cream cones and candy bars).

When the boys awaken from this nap, we are going down to the big field to enjoy a cook-out and a "western hoe-down." We have been told this will include square dancing, line dancing, pony rides, a petting zoo, games and activities, followed by a showing of the movie, "Toy Story." Hopefully, I will remember to bring my camera to snag some photos of this festive family time.

For now, since the boys are still snoozing, I think I will join them and get just a bit more sleep. It is probably a good thing that I have been unable to access the internet. The e-mails and blogs will wait, while I recharge with much-needed rest. What a blessing CBLI is, and has been, for my family!