It climbed to 88 degrees today.  Even the wishing wells were thirsty.  Those of you in the mid-west, send us Spring back, please.  We want to put our froofy gypsy dresses away until summer.

This Year's Foreign Mission

Many of you know that I will be in Zimbabwe for a couple of weeks in June.  I am the missions chair at our church, and we are embarking on the journey of establishing a foreign missions ministry.  It's been a long time coming and an answered prayer, for sure.

While in Zimbabwe, we will mostly be working and staying here, the Nhowe Mission.  We will volunteer in the hospital, preach and teach, serve orphans, the poor, the sick, and the lost.  It is truly a situation where the workers are few, and the needs cannot be met by simply sending a check in the mail.   I found most of the pictures online of the current situation in Zimbabwe too disturbing to post here, so I went with smiling toddlers.  If you want a more accurate picture of the current situation, feel free to google it.  Though isn't it a life lesson that children can find a smile in about any circumstance?

It can be expensive to obey the Great Commission.  The local community outreach ministries we've organized are far less expensive, and we are very busy with those as well; however, "all the world" is bigger than my neighborhood.  I am still in need of about $500 to meet my fund raising goal for this Zimbabwe mission.  If you feel compelled to give, please do so here.  It is quick, easy, online and secure through Paypal.  The people of Zimbabwe thank you.

And in case you wondered, Zimbabwe is in southern Africa, just north of South Africa.  It is officially syncretic (a blend of Christianity and animism), a place where Satan has cast dark shadows of fear over peoples' hearts in the form of superstition and demonology.  The average life span is about 40.  The HIV/AIDS rate in Zimbabwe is just under 25% (yes, that's 1 in 4...).  They are in the midst of a cholera epidemic, an orphan crisis, political turmoil, inflation leading to starvation and desperation.  Many literally gather grains of food to eat that have fallen off of passing trucks to survive.

THANK YOU for helping me share some of our spiritual and physical abundance with them.  If nothing else, please pray for the Zimbabwean people and our mission team.  The Spirit can do amazing things though us when we work together in His name.  Blessings,

Easter

Get ready to hand me the Bad Mom award.  You can cut me a little slack when you hear the details, though.  A little...
Yes, Easter pictures should always be taken out-of-doors, in and among Spring flowers, preferably with children lost in the hunt of candy filled eggs.  These pictures are indoors, and there are no eggs, plastic or otherwise.  

But you see, Tim is gone still, and Sunflower isn't walking yet.  So outdoor pictures would involve trying to man a camera while keeping all three toddlers out of the street and preventing Sunflower's white tights from getting grass stained.  Impossible.  

What's a library room for anyway if not Easter pictures?  Yeah, I know; it just isn't the same.

We call this one, "demure":

Where's the eggs?  Well, we didn't even do that.  I know, shameful.  BUT, J. colored eggs in speech therapy, academic therapy and preschool.  C. colored eggs in occupational therapy and preschool.  And we all did an egg hunt at playgroup.  So they didn't totally miss out; we just didn't color eggs at home.  As for the symbol of an ancient fertility cult that now represents Easter in America?  Why avoid him at all costs every year.  He kinda gives me the creeps. Rabbits should not be six feet tall.
We did get Easter presents though: candy, paint by number books, new shirts and books.  We wore Spring colors, did our memory verses and went to church, of course.  So all was not lost.

Did I at least get a cute family Easter picture?  Uhhh....no.  But I tried.  See?  I really did try.

And Tim, because I know how much you love the boys in pink, this one's for you:
Happy Spring everyone!  Try not to spend it all indoors; it loses something.

April

April is for the lyrical, a national poetry month that descends like its rains and the colorful spiral that marks the days until Tim comes home again.

The phlox is bursting purple, lilac in a pillow of green lusciousness, and the pines are mating

leaving the toxic neon yellow remains of their love on sidewalks, cars, noses and windowsills.

Achoo!

To pass the minutes until Dad returns we prowl around with socks 

in our mouths, 

which is perfectly logical when you're one, 

yet mysteriously nonsensical 

to those who have crossed into the clutches of adulthood.

We peer into the world of the opposite gender, climbing towers, 

princess crowns, 

curtsied bows, 

pearl slippers and down 

filled carriage pillows, 

"ewwwing" appropriately, 

of course.  

And when that grows tiresome

we read Newsweek, competing, 

who can find the the word or image "Obama" the most?

And after a warm April rain we dig in the mud with yellow plastic shovels, 

tugging at worms

slimy, elusive accordions without bones that do not illicit 

the unanimous little boy, "Ewwww,"

but rather a bath

and cookies.

The Crawlk

She'll stand.  She'll "surf" with her knees bent and her arms extended for balance.  She'll look around and pinpoint her destination.  Then, she crawlks.  She bends over, feet flat, palms flat, and high-bottoms it to wherever she's headed.  Surely this means she'll walk soon.  Right?  Maybe she just wised up on how to avoid crawling-knee rash?  She's a ham.