my heart is on the ground.

I quit doing heart updates awhile ago. I guess it was the same a lot, and got boring! Oh well.
Things are really rough right now. On a lot of levels. The three people that read this already know most of them...so I'm not going into details. I guess it's stuff I've done (or not done)...stuff others have done (or not done) to me, and stuff others have done (or not done) to others that ends up affecting me. I've been crying a lot. I mean a lot.

No, it's not depression. I'm used to dealing with that, and I know how to get out of it. It's more like discouragement. The world has so many people doing stuff (or not doing stuff) and everyone hurts everyone and everyone hurts themselves. I don't know why I'd be exempt from all that...I'm not.

It just doesn't seem much like the fairy tale I wanted. Where is my castle? I am wandering. Where is my dragon? Oh...far too easily found. Where is my prince? Fighting many, many, many battles. Yes, he fights for me. But his heart is so heavy... Where is my King? He is here. But I still cry...I still feel alone.

how do you fight like a girl?

I have been doing a lot of thinking lately about fighting. Not the irksome quarreling that goes on in daily life, but the bigger, meaner battle that goes on just outside of the everyday we see.

Father Christmas told Susan and Lucy to only use their weapons only "in great need." For, he says, "battles are ugly when women fight."

Certainly that is true in this physical world. There is something very horrible about a woman dying in battle. It is as though war is an arena of strength and yes, brutality, neither of which conjur up many feminine images. There are strong women, both evil and good, and yes, there are brutal women. But I know that I am neither one of these. I am only strong when I am supported, and brutality of any type is unthinkable to me.

And yet..."our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms." (Ephesians 6:12 NIV)

I am certainly able to fight these battles. I am most definitely able to advance the kingdom of God. I am well equipped.

The weapons we fight with are not the weapons of the world. On the contrary, they have divine power to demolish strongholds. (2 Corinthians 10:4)

I know this. I know that I have the weapons and the armor to fight, and that I have the ability to succeed. But how do I, as a girl, go about that? You see, I don't want to fight. I like shining lights in dark places...but destroying strongholds? Good night. I have some tea to make. I need five or six nice strong boys to...nope. As tempting as I find that (run away and someone will protect me while I drink a good hot cup of earl grey) I know that that is not the answer.

But what is the answer? Lucy healed with her potion and Susan sounded the alarm. Peter killed the Chief Wolf and Edmund snapped the wand of the witch. So what do I do when I am faced with White Witches and Chief Wolves? Blow a horn? Yes...and no.

I am protected by many wonderful men who love God and serve him, fighting for him daily. God has given them the strength to do so. And when I need it, they fight for me. But I want to fight too. I want to kick some evil butt. But I don't like it. I'm squeamish, I'm prissy, I hate being bloody.

I suppose I have a question and no answer yet. Sigh. I'll keep going.

The Continuing Adventures of Anonymous Family

Setting: The anonymous dinner table, this time eating anonymous chicken steak sandwiches.

Anonymous Youngest Child begins pouring himself the milk. Reader should note that he has already succeeded in pouring the water all over the table before the events illustrated below.

Anonymous Older Brother: (believing that Anonymous Youngest Child might suffer from inadaquate depth perception) Hey, watch it! Let me help you! (Anonymous Youngest Child ignores him) Stop it!

Anonymous Little Sister: Hey, Anonymous Youngest Child, STOP! (Anonymous Youngest Child ignores her)

Anonymous Middle Sister and Anonymous Older Sister: (in stereo) Stop! (Anonymous Youngest Child proceeds to pour the milk)

Anonymous Siblings: Stop! (Anonymous Youngest Child wrinkles his nose and continues to pour. The glass wiggles ominously.)

Anonymous Older Brother: (stops shrieking like female siblings) Okay, look, let me do it. (takes glass and milk and pours it)

Anonymous Middle Sister: (condescendingly) Anonymous Youngest Child, you need to listen when people are talking to you. You already spilled the--

Anonymous Older Brother, Older Sister, and Little Sister: (in a tone of "can it already, chica") Anonymous Middle Sister...

Anonymous Middle Sister: Okay, okay. (Anonymous Youngest Child has developed a milk mustache)

Anonymous Father: You know, Anonymous Mother, I think they don't need us anymore. They can self-parent now.

Anonymous Little Sister: (grins like a jack 'o lantern) Does that mean Anonymous Middle Sister has to do whatever I say?

Anonymous Middle Sister: (ready to leap across the cucumbers and strangle Anonymous Little Sister) Oh, don't you even try that on me! You just...

The Anonymous Parents decide that the children might need a little more parenting after all. Anonymous Older Sister does the dishes.

The Love Life of Anonymous Little Sister

Setting: An anonymous family is eating anonymous stir-fry around an anonymous dinner table. The anonymous conversation drifts toward very anonymous guys.

Anonymous Middle Sister: Well, I think Anonymous Little Sister likes So&So.

Anonymous Little Sister: I do not!

Anonymous Middle Sister: You said he was cute! I saw him and he got his hair cut now.

Anonymous Mother: (realizes what the Anonymous sisters are talking about) Anonymous Little Sister is starting to like boys? When did I miss that one?

Anonymous Little Sister: Well, I only kind of do. Sometimes I look at So&So and I'm all like, "Whoa." (pauses for dramatic effect, eyes wide. Or maybe now is a 'whoa' moment) And then the next time I see him I'm like, "Eeeeewww." (makes a face and sticks tongue out) But then I see him again and I'm all like "Whoa." (pauses and contemplates the ceiling for a moment) Maybe it's because I don't get enough sleep at night. That's probably it.

This re-telling is Anonymous by the demands of Anonymous Little Sister. May she live forever.

The Education of the Anonymous Short Ones

Scene 1:

Anonymous Youngest Child: (reading his science book) "Oh, that's why I have spit in my mouth. I always wondered why I had spit in my mouth."

Anonymous Little Sister: "Saliva, Youngest Child. Saliva."

Week three of the Education of the Anonymous Short People has begun.Though their science books are different, they run along similar tracks, so right now they are both learning about...digestion! Oh yeah, it's that exciting. What else would cause a ten-year-old to spend the entire time she was eating lunch trying to swallow holding onto her tongue (to see if she could because her book said she couldn't) and an eight-year-old to stare at a mirror saying "aaaaaahhhhhhhh" for a good five minutes in order to see his uvula (that thing that hangs down in the back of your throat that you always see when cartoon characters scream)

Scene 2:

Anonymous Youngest Child is staring out of the window instead of concentrating like a good little boy should on his lovely little math lesson.

Me: (fearing another school day iiinnnncccchhhiiinng till 4 o'clock) Youngest Child? Hey! Youngest Child! (he jumps, startled.) Can I close the curtain for you so that you don't get distracted and stare out the window?

Anonymous Youngest Child: (eyes wide in horror) No! That wouldn't help! If you did that then I would just stare at the curtain!

Anonymous Little Sister: (from across the room) Youngest Child, you are so weird.

Scene 3:

Setting: School Room/Parent's Room. Anonymous Youngest Child is working at his desk. I am sitting on the bed grading math. Anonymous Little Sister is on the floor cutting up magazines for a project about eating good food. Rain falls steadily into the flooded street in the background.

Aononymous Youngest Child: (reading his science book) "Speaking of digestion, I really need to go to the bathroom!" (he jumps up and runs out of the room. Little Sister and I exchange a Glance.)

Yes, we are still in the mysterious world of digestion. We've moved away from the mouth and are now learning all about the amazing, wonderous tube known as the small intestine, which we discovered is 23 ft. long. The large intestine is only about 7ft. long. So then we had to figure out why they gave them such misnomers...trust me, you don't want to know. But Youngest Child did. I just want to stop moving along. It's getting kind of gross. Why don't people photosynthesize?
It's still raining.

And that was just science.

Ben left today to live on his own. I miss him. He's teaching English over near Phaya Thai, about 40 minutes away from me over here in Bang Na. To get there you take a mini pickup truck down to the main road (from the soi to the thanon) and then a bus to the skytrain. Then you take the skytrain from On Nut to Phaya Thai and walk across the intersection. The whole trip costs around $1.25 (cheaper if you take an un-airconditioned bus.)
Now I have a bad headache, probably another sinus thing brought on by the nasty smog the stupid buses create. But I'll drink water and if it gets bad enough, take meds...though that will knock me out good.

My Little Sister: Fashion Maven

My sister Jaimie is ten. If you don't know my family, she is fourth in a line of five kids, of which I am the oldest. She's pretty cute as kids go, with a killer smile. She's homeschooled, and lives in Thailand. Right now she's on a Shakespeare kick and is reading through Much Ado about Nothing. Okay, I'm sure you can see her in your mind. She's a ten year old homeschooled missionary kid living on the other side of the world who is so socially inept that she likes reading Shakespeare.

No...not hardly.

Jaimie woke up this morning and did her hair in pigtails--low ones behind her ears. She carefully let two strands hang over her face. Over that she slid on my brother's navy blue knit beanie (we live in a tropical climate, k?) and put on dark blue boot cut jeans (because she won't wear anything but boot-cut) and a crimson shirt that says "I Bite" in rhinestones. To top it off, she adds a decidely gothic choker. Where did she get that? So imagine this...a little punked out ten year old reading Shakespeare and singing Newsies songs at the top of her lungs.

Me: Jaimie, where did you learn to dress like that?

Jaimie: I made it up.

Me: No you did not. That is totally a TV look. Did you get it from a movie?

Jaimie: Nope. I made it up.

Me: Do you have friends that dress like that?

Jaimie. Nope. I made it up. I just thought it would all look cool together.

So, if anyone knows where my silly, cute sister went, let me know. Although the silly, cute, fashion maven is certainly adorable. Just a little...frightening.

doo bee doo bee dooooo

So. The Question of the Day.

Where did it go? The answer? Irrelevant...

I'm learning to play the piano and I'm kind of good at it. Despite never touching an instrument except the piano to the point that I could play anything resembling a song (and the piano experience comes from when I was six and Daddy taught me Do, a Deer from the Sound of Music with one finger) I actually have something of an ear for it. I guess.

Everyone always comments on the oddity of a father who is a brilliantly talented musician with five children, none of whom play anything but computer games. There must be a reason for this...I suppose it's that we never had lessons. Why not? Because Dad could teach us. But he never did. Brilliant people have trouble explaining their brilliance you see. This is why we have jargon in the world.

Jargon is so that the brilliant people who are insecure in their brilliance because they cannot explain it can feel like they are brilliant despite their lack of interpersonal skills.
Not that my Dad has poor interpersonal skills--far from it. It's just hard to listen to a child thunk piano keys really slowly. But brilliance and jargon and my Daddy are not why I'm writing. They are the unedited flow of my mind...which seems to flow and is enabled in a rather unhealthy way by the ellipses... ... ... those lovely friendly looking triple dots.

I'm writing to say that I'm learning to play the piano. And I like it. So now I like writing and drawing and dancing and playing music. Jill of all hobbies and master of none.

sigh

Today I took five children and Luke from the water park to a concert with Ben.

In Bangkok.

I still know where all the children are, amazingly. And Luke will show up eventually, I'm sure...I left my house at six am, came back to get the children very quickly, then did water park, concert, bar, concert, english...and got everyone safely home by 10:30 pm. I'm DEAD.

g'night...whoever reads this...