Mashulaville Dormitory Trip

In classic procrastination master fashion, I've got some updating and pictures to add from the last few months that I've been neglecting to share. I'll start with a trip I took back in March to Mashulaville, Mississippi. I went with my dad on a work project from my home church in Middlebury to do some repairs on the Mashulaville Dormitory, which is a Mennonite hospitality house. Chances are I just named about five things in those last few sentences that are pretty unfamiliar to most non-Mennonites, so to better explain what I'm talking about here's a couple of links to help out: This is the website for Menno-Hof, which is an Anabaptist learning center in my hometown, and this is an article I wrote for their publication talking about our trip. The article is much condensed and there's not a lot of room for pictures, so I'm expounding for you image-hungry readers. (I say that like I have hordes flocking to my blog. I'm pretty sure the only person who reads this is my mother. Ah, well, a fan is a fan.)

So anyway, now that you've read the article and know what we were doing (I'm just assuming you're going to read it because I don't want to re-type it and there's not THAT much space on this page), here's some more images from the trip. It was pretty darn fun except for all the rain. Most notable was the comment from the owner after what I thought was one of the scariest rainstorms I've ever seen: "Well... I haven't seen a storm like that since Katrina went through. Come to think of it, I hadn't really seen a storm like that before Katrina went through. Come to think of it, that's pretty much what Katrina was like... just shorter." Excellent. So we were treated to the cliff notes version of a hurricane. I'll stay here in Oregon, thanks... the worst that's going to happen here is that we're all going to fall off the coast in a giant earthquake... but as we all know earthquakes only last for a few minutes, not 24 hours, so it should be a nice quick and easy death. Grisly, perhaps, but quick. Hey, I'm digressing. I never do that. (I'm never sarcastic, either.)

Okay, so here's the goods! Some before shots of what we were working on:

The dorm itself:

The ceiling of the porch:

The roof of the porch, which was also used as a bit of a hangout for the teens, and (we hear) a place for girls of the dorm to meet their boyfriends back in the day. Scandalous!

Back porch that needed a ramp:

There was also painting projects here and there, drywalling, plus the girl in me just couldn't handle that dingy sign hanging above the doorway. So we had our work cut out for us.

So! We were on a mission! We weren't afraid to get our hands dirty!!

Which we did. First things first- repairing the water line that we broke. Day one is so fun.

Those guys did an amazing job with the sidewalk. The nerd in me was totally fascinated. The artist in me wanted desperately to help them make it pretty. The idjit in me just messed it up further.

Thankfully there was someone who screwed it up even more than I did to take the spotlight off my ineptitude. This IS a law of pouring sidewalks, right? There has to be a dog around somewhere to do this?

Anyway, after shots:

New sidewalk:

Porch ceiling:

I forgot to take an after shot of the roof, but you can see they're working hard:

And the ramp to the back door:

Don't think that we didn't make sure to do all the necessary activities for a Mennonite gathering- after all, where two or more Mennonites are gathered together, there shall a game of Euchre be also. But they wasted no time at all in collecting all the mushrooms...

Yes. They fooled me too. Them crazy guys...

And the basketball- both the watching of the NCAA tournament and the playing in the afternoons. This guy had aspirations to be an NBA player. He was pretty good. I think Dad might have had a chance, though, if he hadn't been, oh, five feet shorter...

Waiting for the rain to stop:

This dog didn't live here, but just kept coming around begging to play.

And of course, what is perhaps our greatest trademark of them all: the food line. Note how the two not directly serving themselves are casually sizing up the guy with the plate, making sure that he's leaving enough for them when it's their turn. What. If. We. Run. Out. Of. Pie.

Now many people have false images of what the Mennonite lifestyle is all about. I don't want you to get the wrong idea. We're not all buggies and black dresses. We drive cars and watch TV. Why, we even have cell phones in today's modern era. Of course, we have to walk out to the middle of the field to use them...

Dad made fun of me the first day because I swiped the (second) mirror from one of the two bathrooms to put into my bedroom. After all, I was the only girl and I figured there would never be two men in the bathroom at the same time to require two mirrors. Poke fun all you want, Dad, but I caught you enjoying my mirror when there was a line and you needed to shave... ;)

Truly, this was an amazing trip. I had a blast. Even the rain was cool. If you ever feel compelled to do some good, go check out the website of the Mashulaville Dormitory and find out how you can help out.

Just for fun, this was one of my favorite pictures. I could wax all poetic, you know, beauty in the darkest spots, blah blah blah, but a) I'd be stretching it, and b) that might reveal a side that's neither sarcastic nor indifferent, so... hey, isn't this a really pretty flower?

So maybe I'm the only one...

Confused and Possibly Naive Soapbox: on.

So...I guess it's possible that I'm the only one who feels his way. I could be. I doubt it. But maybe I'm the only one who's weird enough to say it out loud. I've always been a little off, so I guess I'll go ahead and just admit it:

I did not throw a party Sunday night.

That's right. Sunday evening, when I heard the news of Bin Laden's death, I did not wrap myself in a flag, take to the streets, and begin chanting pro-American sentiments with the rest of the horde.

Was I relieved at the news? Admittedly, yes.

Was I worried about retaliation? Just a tad.

Was I disgusted by the immediate response? Hay-ell yeah.

Ten years ago, I joined the rest of America in horror-struck fascination as we watched the towers crumble before our eyes. The very idea that I was watching in real time and living color the deaths of thousands of people gave me the first taste of shock and awe, coupled with not a tiny bit of nausea. I found it impossible to separate the massive loss of life from what had to be an even bigger tragedy: the fact that it was a statistical probability that many of those people hadn't yet accepted Jesus Christ as their Savior and had now lost their chance to understand God's real love and sacrifice for them. What a massive failure on all of our parts: 3000 people gone in the blink of an eye, 3000 souls potentially lost forever. 3000 misses. It was horrifying. Disgusting. Humbling.

It only got worse. In the following days we were treated to not only incessant replays of the horror, but also to feed after feed of crowds of radical Muslims dancing in the streets, shouting and singing with jubilation about the suffering inflicted on America. This was even more disgusting. What kinds of animals did these people have to be, I thought to myself, that they could rejoice in the devastation of so many people? Hadn't they ever lost a loved one? Didn't they know that some kinds of human suffering were universal? Couldn't they imagine and sympathize with the pain that individuals must be feeling? Didn't they as members of the human race have even a tiny bit of empathy? What monsters must these people be?

And then Sunday night I saw it again, only in my own backyard. Dancing in the streets. Jubilation over loss of life. "Enlghtened" Americans reveling in the loss of human life. Proud, boisterous celebration from people who had absolutely no hand in this man's death yet were staking their claim in victory over one they believed had no right to live.

Now I know what you're thinking: it's totally different. This was justified joy over the death of a man who stole thousands of lives and committed countless heinous acts of the devil in the name of God. He didn't deserve to live. He needed to pay for his crimes. Bin Laden was a disgusting person, not even fit to be called human. Why should we be anything but elated that he's gone for good? This was not death, this was justice.

Fine. I admit it. I'm glad he's gone. But I cannot, absolutely cannot believe that the death of a person- any person- is cause for celebration. Especially for a soul so clearly lost as this man was! As far as misguided fools are concerned, this guy was clearly perched at the top of the totem pole. Even those who share his religion admit that. But imagine... just imagine... what if this man had woken up? What if one day something had sparked a realization in his brain, triggered a hint of truth, appealed to the tiny piece left in his soul that yearned for good? What if he had come around to a sane way of thinking, left his life of terrorism, repented, turned to God, and willingly presented himself to the world for restitution? Can you imagine the party going on in Heaven if that had happened? After all, Jesus came to save ALL people, not just those of us who live a supposed lily-white suburban lifestyle. What a victory that would have been for Him to have won back the soul of one who had wandered so far astray!

I know that the idea of Bin Laden being greeted by angels and walking streets of gold with Jesus is, to be honest, rather off-putting. But imagine this: you're a parent. You have an errant child. Despite all that you've done to raise this kid, as an adult they've turned to a life that spirals them downwards into misery and causes destruction to others wherever they go. No, you haven't raised a radical terrorist, but your offspring is still nothing to write home about. Suddenly, you receive news that this kid of yours has finally gone and done it- killed themselves with a drug overdose or gang shootout or some other such nastiness. Would you say to yourself, "Thank goodness that's over, that kid needed to die to spare the world any more pain!" Of course you wouldn't. As a parent, you would mourn the loss of your child. You would weep for the fact that he never understood the truth of Jesus love and redemption. You would give anything for just one more day with your bad boy so that you could try one more time to bring him back to the fold.

There isn't anything on this earth that God didn't create. Not one thing. Not one person. Everything on this earth is His and His alone. Do you think that God and the angels are popping corks over the eternal loss of one of His children? In. Sane. I just can't believe that the same God who gave Himself for me, for pathetic, miserable, wretched, sin-filled and undeserving me, would consider any one person (no matter how horrible the rest of the world may think they are) a total loss and beyond the reach of His love. It's just impossible. If God wants me, he wanted Osama. And I believe He's regretting the final loss of his soul.

Now, don't misunderstand me. I don't pretend not to be relieved that the threat of Bin Laden is removed from us forever. I'm certainly glad that his reign of terror is over. But I don't for a minute believe that by eliminating him we have eliminated evil. To believe that Satan and all his little helpers are cowering in fear of Big Strong America is a pretty arrogant of us, don't you think? So I'm just trying not to delight in the fact that justice was done in taking Bin Laden's life.

Yes, you read that right. Justice was done. I didn't say that Bin Laden should continue to run wild and free and destroy more of God's creation; how stupid would I have to be to believe that? God is indeed a loving God, but He is also a God of justice. He uses His creation all the time to demonstrate this. To believe that God wanted Bin Laden to continue to kill innocents is an absolutely ridiculous notion. God had His hand in this operation just as surely as He took down the Egyptians in the Red Sea. But: I do not believe that God delighted in the loss of life then, and I don't believe that He does now. I just can't.

That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.

Slightly More Satisfied Soapbox: off.

doggies and donuts and cones, oh, my

So, a bit of background:

Caleb is a licker. Yeah. Gross. I guess he's no more of a licker than most dogs, but when he gets a hot spot that he's interested in, he just licks away and it's really annoying. So, right now he's working on this mole on his back foot. It's awesome. It's turned into a giant ball of inflammation and it's really disgusting. We know from experience, however, that if we can get him to quit licking for a couple weeks it will shrink back to size and he'll forget all about it. So, that means we stick him in the uber-cool doggie cone so he can't reach it... fun, fun. He hates his cone. It's heavy and awkward and he spends most of the day running it into things and staring up at us begging us to take it off. If we're going to be able to watch him closely, we put him in his inflatable collar (aka the donut) instead because it's a little bit more comfortable for him.

Last weekend I was out of town and it was up to Andy to be the licker-sitter. Andy is much more soft-hearted towards the fuzzbucket than I am, so he tried to let the dog wear the donut for the afternoon instead of the cone.

Halfway through Saturday afternoon, I get these pictures sent to me in an email. (It was wordless for me, but I've included captions to make it blog-reader-friendly.)

Caleb: "Hey, dad!!"

Andy: "Hey buddy... where's your donut?"

Andy: "Interesting. That's quite a tight space you got your donut caught in."

Caleb: "I know! It comes right off!!"

Andy: "Interesting. That's quite a good job you've done licking up that mole."

Caleb: "I know! Look how nice and bloody it is!!"

Andy: "Enjoy your cone."

Caleb: "Sigh."

Yes, Mom... I Remembered.

Happy Spring!!!

Now maybe I'll actually go mow my lawn...

Finally, a real hike!

This is quite a belated post, since this hike was done on February 10th. But it's been a really hectic month since then and I just now had time to update the blog. Anyway, Wendy and I decided to upgrade from "a walk in the park" status and do some actual hills. We broke ourselves in easy by hitting Cape Lookout and Cape Meares on the Oregon coast. They were both beautiful views, but for anyone headed to Cape Lookout to watch the whales, be sure you wear old shoes! Sometimes the mud was all the way up over our ankles. Anyway, enjoy the pictures!

View from the beginning of the Cape Lookout trail:

The sun came in and out of the clouds all day.

And this creepy ship followed us along every single viewpoint all day. (Both locations! We think they knew we were hiding an alpine bovine in our packs.)

Beautiful and unusual tree formations all along this trail:

From the actual lookout:

We made it!

Walter is very photogenic, even with a nearly-missing antler. He wanted to demonstrate 1. how good he looks in a tree

2. how brave he was to sit in a tree practically in midair

3. just how STRAIGHT DOWN the cliff was that held the tree he was sitting in.

See? Pretty dang far down.

We forgot to photograph the "summit" of Cape Meares... although there really isn't one.

Beautiful fern and moss-covered cliff face:

Amazing eddies and pool between the two cliffs-this was a scary place to stand!

The Octopus Tree

If you look closely, this is almost a Goonies rock. :) (Maybe we'll do that hike next month.)