Photos from the Park...

I promised to post photographic evidence of our trip to Rib Falls, so here we have it:

This is Thea and Karina trying to find a way to cross the rapids on stepping stones

...Thea and Karina realizing that the stepping stone crossing is a dumb idea, and returning to shore...

... getting sidetracked by the sight of a particularly large crawdaddy...

...waylaid by a well-meaning brother who feels personally responsible for helping girls overcome their unreasonable phobia of pinchers and all things slimy...

This was taken moments after an unfortunate incident which involved an algae-covered rock, a river, and a blonde who thought she could stand on the rock. Obviously, the river won...

Enjoying the view (we had a pretty handsome photographer for this shot)

Handsome photographer included in this one--it's what they call a "package deal," perhaps?

Moments with Karina

This past week and a half has been an experience in and of itself, so I'll just take a quick moment to recap some of the highs and lows.

Ana Karina Ojeda Mondragon came all the way from Morelia, Mexico, to join our family on Saturday, July 5th, and our shy little Mexican maiden has since been adjusting quite well to life in Wisconsin. We regret that she can only stay a month, and I do believe at least one of my brothers is considering the possibity of hijacking one of her suitcases on the return trip for sinister stow-away purposes.

One of the many wonderful things about Karina is that she speaks Spanish. Really well. And she's very patient, and very gracious. In fact, she typically refrains from laughing at my attempts to speak Spanish, save for one or two memorable instances in which I accidentally said something completely and unforgivably preposterous while earnestly believing that I was communicating something rather different.

Sunday evening we went to the local park and took her down to climb on the rocks by the waterfall. She had never seen a crawdaddy before, so my younger brother, Josiah, caught two of them and spent a good five minutes trying to convince her that their pinches aren't fatal, and that she should touch one. (I was on her side on this particular issue). The crawdaddies were finally sent sailing back into the water in a series of graceful underhand pitches. Josiah had also found a tadpole, however, which he convinced her to hold in her hand for a moment while we examined the legs sprouting from its slimy little body and commented on the unusual shape of its strange puffy head. She squealed every time the tail flipped, which Josiah found tremendously amusing.

I thought it would be fun for her to learn to play racquetball while she was here, since she's already an avid tennis player, and there's some similarities between the two sports (meaning that both involve a ball, and raquets. I have found that the similarities end there.) However, she graciously agreed to spend an hour with me last Wednesday morning hitting the ball around and learning some of the basics. The two of us played as a team against a friend for the first half hour, and then she asked if she could sit out for a bit and watch us play to get a better idea of what this crazy game is really all about without having to worry about decapitation due to poor raquet handling in the meanwhiles. (Did I mention that she's intelligent? She is.)

The guy we were playing with that morning is a more experienced player than Karina or myself, and he was hitting fast drives down the center of the court after she stepped out to observe. On the third one, I went in for it a little bit too low and a bit too stretched out. As my racquet connected with the ball, there was an odd popping sound in my right knee accompanied by a strange searing sensation...and that was the end of the game. I spent the rest of the morning playing "take the X-ray" and "meet the doctor," accompanied by my wonderful Mom...one of the primary rules of this new game is apparently "ice it." What fun. We'll find out what the damage was after the MRI, but in the meantime...

Karina and I spent Monday evening at the Langhaven, enjoying a wonderful time of reading, talking, laughing, and eating tasty food as we discussed the finer points of Hannah Hurmand's "Hind's Feet on High Places" with a number of lovely ladies. There was a lot of very good discussion as everyone began to compare notes. When asked on the home trip how much of the evening conversation she had understood, Karina laughed sheepishly, shrugged a bit, shook her head, and said, "It was very...fun." What a trooper! English is a pathetically tough language to master...

We've enjoyed many great conversations since she came, and her language skills are certainly improving. Being laid up for the past week has forced me to slow down a bit and focus more on the relational aspect of her visit than I had originally planned for--it's been good, although I confess that having to give up some of the things we were hoping to do together hasn't set well with me on various days.

Pictures to come shortly! I'm discovering that a month is a surprisingly short span of time!

Of Boys and Toys...

Peace reigns in the house. The only sounds which break the beautiful silence are the contented murmurings of little boys playing trucks together. I am holding my breath and crossing my fingers as I head back upstairs to start the supper dishes. Maybe this whole 'playing together until bedtime' thing will actually work? I wonder hopefully.

But such is not to be the case. Angry shouting and lugubrious wails begin to drift up from the basement, demanding immediate attention from a certain babysitter. Me.

As I stand in the doorway taking in the whole situation, I feel a thoughtful smile twitching at the corners of my mouth. There's something oddly amusing about selfish human nature when it surfaces in lively little boys--pathetic in a way, but also amusing.

The two young gents before me were each intent on proving that he was the one who had been woefully wronged by his pesky brother. I was greeted, amid much racket, by two lovely sets of healthy tonsils, the owners of which were roaring angrily, heads thrown back to give additional volume and add to the dramatic effect.

It was eventually ascertained that a certain younger brother had stolen the very same red Lego that a certain older brother was just preparing to put to honorable use in the construction of his lovely rendition of the Eiffel tower. Tragic, certainly. But not for the reasons they expected. Both youngsters were sent off to brush their teeth in preparation for bed while pondering the virtue of selflessness, and I returned to the kitchen where the dishes were still waiting, shaking my head laughingly, and wondering why it is that little boys and girls are so often unable to see the beautiful personalities God has placed in their siblings.

As the water started sudsing in the sink, I was struck by the realization that it's not just little boys and girls who are blind to the beauty in people around them. How many times have I myself failed to recognize or appreciate the awesome imprint of God's image as it appears in the men and women that He brings into my life?

I plopped a stack of plates into the soapy water, and began to scrub. What is it that keeps us from being intimate with the people around us? What comes in the way of genuine fellowship? What makes it so difficult to recognize and appreciate the boundless value of each and every person? I raised an eyebrow thoughtfully.

James 4:1 popped into my mind: "Where do wars and fights come from among you? Do they not come from your desires for pleasure which war in your members?"

All too often I am unable to appreciate others because I am so intent on achieving my own pleasure, of proving my own significance. My drive to be important, or to feel loved and appreciated, comes between me and the true blessing of God-glorifying fellowship and honest friendship that God intends for each of His beloved children.

A lesson from Focus on the Family's "Truth Project" emerged from the memory archives of my mind. Del Tackett had been musing on the tragedy of Saul's relationship with David, lamenting the fact that Saul's hunger for significance and human praise destroyed a potentially beautiful bond between the two of them. In closing, he turned to the class and asked, "Can you be willing, and joyfully willing, to lose your significance?"

Oof. That's tough. Joyfully insignificant? I bit my lower lip as I built my own rendition of the Leaning Tower of Pisa in the dish drainer. Tough, yes. But if my true significance comes from my worth in God's eyes, then I am foolish to think that His love, His affirmation, and His acceptance is not enough. In fact, it is worse than foolish--it is the equivalent of prostitution to say to God, "You are not enough," and to look elsewhere for the fulfillment that He is so willing to bountifully give me. He is the true Lover of my soul. He has made me for Himself, and He alone can bring satisfaction, significance, and healing into my life.

I breathe in deeply as I listen to the clink of silverware movings between my fingers, basking in the knowledge that I serve an awesome God, a God Who speaks...
And then I hear shouting coming from the bathroom, where my two little munchkins have been busily preparing for bed:

"You're using my toothbrush!"

"Nu uh! Thith ith mine!"

Arg. Learning life lessons is apparently a life-long process.