ENCOUNTER

Loving Life

2009-04-03T15:25:00.000-07:00

Recently I told someone that the happiest I've ever felt has always been in India. But I think I need to correct myself.

I am right now the happiest I have ever been.

If I say anything here...

2009-03-28T05:56:00.001-07:00

... will anyone listen?

Just wondering.

What Kind of Coffee Are You?

2007-07-26T16:13:00.000-07:00

You Are a Cappuccino

You're fun, outgoing, and you love to try anything new.

However, you tend to have strong opinions on what you like.

You are a total girly girly at heart - and prefer your coffee with good conversation.

You're the type that seems complex to outsiders, but in reality, you are easy to please.

Happy Easter!

2007-04-07T18:28:00.000-07:00

"God made him who knew no sin to be sin
for us, that in Him we might become
the righteousness of God."
II Corinthians 5:21

"Surely he took up our infirmities
and carried our sorrows,
yet we considered him stricken by God,
smitten by Him and afflicted.
But he was pierced for our transgressions,
he was crushed for our iniquities;
the punishment that brought us peace was upon him,
and by his wounds we are healed."
Isaiah 53:4-5

"He poured out his life unto death,
and was numbered with the transgressors.
For he bore the sin of many,
and made intercession for the transgressors."
Isaiah 53:12

"And if Christ has not been raised, our preaching is
useless and so is your faith... But Christ has indeed
ben raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those
who have fallen asleep."
I Corinthians 15:17, 20

"...Christ was raised from the dead through the glory
of the Father, so we too may live a new life."
Romans 6:4

I Feel Like I'm Inside One of These...

2007-03-27T19:34:00.000-07:00

...Heaven help me!

WANTED

2007-03-11T16:36:00.000-07:00

I guess the day of the wanted poster has long passed. But I've been wondering...

Is my face posted on a website somewhere with the caption "Figure out my future!" under it? Sometimes I think it must be, though I haven't found it yet. Other possible captions include "Hire me!" "Send me to a foreign country!" and "Marry me!" (Scratch that last one - only wishful thinking.)

Well, I am living in the land of opportunity. I guess I shouldn't be so surprised. But really folks - I'm only half kidding about the internet thing, because... the opportunities do abound.

Believe me, I consider this a good thing. I'm just rather puzzled by it at the moment. With so many options out there for my future, though I don't know which one(s) I will actually pursue, I am convinced that the path before me is bright and full of adventure. I actually enjoy the unknowns (sometimes), considering the rich possibilities found in living the abundant life.

Yay for the future!

A New Kind of Christian

2007-02-11T18:09:00.000-08:00

I recently read McLaren's book "A New Kind of Christian." It was an unexpectedly challenging read. I don't mean it was too intellectual or hard to follow. It actually was a rather delightful narrative. It just challenged so many of my long-held assumptions and beliefs about Christianity and what it means to follow Jesus and be a Christian. I found myself taking up offense on behalf of my religion. But no sooner than I set the book aside in disgust, I picked it back up again with renewed interest. I guess being challenged is fun.

A friend offered another challenge - to be more specific about what I agree and disagree with in the book. I found it surprisingly difficult to come up with specifics. I just know I was taken aback and grew defensive frequently. But almost as frequently, I found myself nodding my head in acquiescence to some of his other assertions. My challenge to myself tonight is to simply come up with compliment and one criticism of "A New Kind of Christian."

Let's start on the positive side. The author, contrary to what I would have anticipated, holds the belief that the modern church's view of sin is too narrow. I would have guessed his conversational approach to spirituality would naturally allow more room for interpretation when it comes to what is sin and what isn't. Not so, and I appreciated that. He claims that modern Christianity, particularly Western modern Christianity, has limited the definition of sin to mean specific wrong acts/thoughts/words that are committed, thought, or spoken by individuals. But when you look at the Bible, you see God punishing Israel for national sins of idolatry and oppression. Probably not every individual in Israel personally oppressed the poor, or used dishonest scales, or charged unfair interest to the needy. However, the nation as a whole allowed it to happen on a wide scale, and the entire nation was held responsible and shared equally in the exile. McLaren suggests that we are guilty of sins we have possibly never considered - sins of negligence, ignorance of the plight of the poor, and apathy when it comes to injustice. Personally, after living in India, I have considered these questions and have viewed my own lack of interest in the world's needs in a new light. "A new kind of Christian," McLaren points out, would have a larger understanding of what sin is.

Now for a criticism. I'll be honest - my first thought is "how will I pick just one?" But when I really pause, I realize I haven't organized my thoughts enough to express more than one negative opinion anyway. So here it is: the author appears to question the traditional interpretations of what the Bible says about heaven and hell. One of his characters, the one from whom all the "emerging" ideas are spouted, actually suggests that there is only one final destination for all people after death. This one destination will only vary in that people will experience it differently. Those who love God will rejoice in His presence and bask in His light. Those who have lived in darkness will cower and shrink back from the light and that will be their suffering. He doesn't pose this idea as truth, but suggests it as a valid option.

This was one point at which I put the book firmly down on my little Starbucks table. (I read on my breaks.) I actually got mad. And yes, later I went back to Scripture to read what it says about the afterlife. And I honestly just don't see where this guy is coming from. For one thing, I simply cannot brush aside a huge portion of Scripture as mere evocative language used to paint a metaphorical picture, as he seems to be doing. Also, I personally need to know that heaven and hell are real. If hell were struck from my working theology, I would be left wondering what it's all for. Life isn't long enough to work that hard to improve it for some. Why help the poor, if by dying they could simply escape their misery and reach that "one destination?" No, if everyone's eternity will be spent in the same place, I have to admit my motivation for missions and evangelism will drop significantly.

I guess one reason the book troubled me so much was that if he could take Scripture and come up with something as apparently heretical as that, why can I believe the rest of what he says? I do believe some of it, and I agree with him on several points. But to be honest, the book scared me. I found myself wondering if my own long-held faith could be shaken and altered in a way that would damage, not improve it. I felt... well, "challenged" is the right word, I guess.

Before you all jump on me with your comments, I do know that questioning is a good thing. I do know that the very fact that I went back to the Bible to see what it said was a good thing. Questioning, even doubting, should never be the downfall of well-placed faith. And I know it will only strengthen, not weaken, my own.

But still... I feel rather on my guard.

What about you? Anybody else read this book? I'd be interested in your thoughts.

New Year Pics

2007-01-01T18:39:00.000-08:00

Last night, in spite of my cough and fatigue, I ventured out into a winter wonderland of snow. I brought along my camera and had fun experimenting with the night setting on my camera. Here are a couple of my favorites...

2006-12-23T08:48:00.000-08:00

I'll be home for Christmas...

2006-12-23T08:46:00.000-08:00

...and I'm so excited!

Fighting the Fade

2006-12-14T20:07:00.000-08:00

As time goes by, some things fade away. Some things seem to lose their significance simply because they happen so often. Other things, of a more uncommon nature, are drowned out by the cascade of minutes that make up each day.

An example of the first: it occurred to me three days ago that I am no longer amazed by hot water showers. Every day I wake up and step into a never-ending waterfall of clean, hot water. I can stay in twenty minutes, and it doesn't even cool off. And I no longer marvel at this.

Just six months ago, if I wanted a shower, it was cold. If I wanted hot water, I heated it first, and poured it over myself one cupful at a time. The only time warm water came out of my shower was during the middle of a sweltering day, when I wanted the water to be cold. And you know what? I was thankful for that warm water, even when I didn't want it. I just enjoyed the fact that it was coming out warm, even though it didn't cool me off. And when I took those "showers" out of a bucket of hot water, I was incredibly thankful for the way it warmed me up. And when I took freezing cold showers on cold mornings because I didn't have time to heat a bucket, I truly appreciated the fact I had a shower at all. All the people I met in the slums bathed in public, covered in a wrap of sorts, by the community well. I had a shower.

When I came home, I was almost overwhelmed with joy every time I stepped in the shower. I laughed at how easy it was - just turn it on and get in. I loved it. And now... I'm back to my old self, I guess. I don't even think about what a privileged life I lead.

What brought on this sudden musing? This quote, taken from an ad in the most recent Reader's Digest:

"We believe that everyone has the right to a hot bath."

Really.

No! Hot showers are not a basic right; they are a blessing. I should marvel. I should be thankful. I should remember my friends who live such different lives, far away in a place where hot showers are for the elite. I wish there were a way to keep these things from fading away into distant memories. I can feel the fade beginning, and I resent it. I want to fight against it. But how?

I Am Unique

2006-10-29T11:51:00.000-08:00

HowManyOfMe.com

There is:
1
person with my name
in the U.S.A.

How many have your name?

Which Leaf Is Your Favorite?

2006-10-26T21:08:00.000-07:00

I crunched through a bunch of crisp leaves yesterday. What fun!

Open Invitation

2006-10-20T20:38:00.000-07:00

Anybody up for getting some Indian food around town somewhere? There is an Indian restaurant pretty close to my house. There are also several other Indian places around the Twin Cities. I'm open to location suggestions.

Only two warnings if you come. First, it may be on the expensive side. Second... you may not like it. But I will. :)

Iced Decaf Triple Grande Caramel Nonfat Extra Hot With Whip White Chocolate Mocha

2006-10-19T15:33:00.000-07:00

I got a new job. Come and see me at the 98th and Lyndale Starbucks on weekday mornings.

All the Colors of the Rainbow

2006-10-18T07:57:00.000-07:00

On Sunday morning, while rushing around to get ready for church, I stubbed my toe. Not the big one. The middle toe. The one you'd get in trouble for waving out the car window when someone cuts you off in traffic. ("Did you see that? She gave me the toe!")

Anyway, it hurt. It hurt so bad I didn't cry. I just hit the ground face down, yelling "Ow!" But with no other recourse, I simply finished getting ready and hobbled off to church.

That afternoon, I removed my shoe and sock to find my toe had turned a curious shade of green. Really. By nightfall, it had lost the green and taken on a definitely preferable hue of violet. Monday morning, violet had deepened into a rich purple. And yesterday when I woke up, it was bright pink. It has now faded to a dull gray.

I wonder if my toe is tired of being a chameleon, or if this color show will continue indefinitely.

P. I. (Post-India)...

2006-10-01T14:33:00.000-07:00

THINGS I WILL NEVER AGAIN TAKE FOR GRANTED:

1. Walking into a dark room, flicking on the light, and seeing absolutely zero cockroaches
2. Hot showers
3. Streets where a majority of the cars drive in actual lanes in the correct direction
4. Cow-free roads
5. Being able to communicate with everybody all the time with no language barrier
6. AC
7. Windows with screens on them
8. Falling asleep with no fear of anything crawling on me in the night
9. Clean water, with no risk of typhoid or hepatitis
10. Good live music at church and elsewhere
11. Non-instant coffee

THINGS I MISS ANYWAY:

1. Chai
2. Vigorous (and cacophonous) Hindi worship songs
3. The thrill and challenge of crossing the language barrier with poor-quality Bengali phrases
4. Taking a tepid shower on a sweltering afternoon
5. Seeing the foothills of the Himalayas every day
6. Tailor-made, cheap clothing
7. The lively open market
8. Sharing Jesus with people who never heard of Him before
9. Finding new adventures and every day doing something I never thought I could
10. Being called "madam" by strangers, "didi" by younger friends, and "sister" at church
11. Early morning prayer walks in the tea gardens

People I Miss

2006-09-27T20:20:00.000-07:00

my roommate Dengziki and my friend Kima

the Andersons!

my pastor and his family

my neighbors
(pretend I'm not in the picture - I clearly don't miss myself!)

Mint Condition

2006-09-27T14:13:00.000-07:00

Caribou Coffee's Mint Condition...

My taste buds are throwing confetti, shouting "hooray", and doing the Macarena all at once.

What's your favorite drink and favorite place to get it?

Something New

2006-09-21T13:41:00.000-07:00

Isaiah 42:9
See, the former things have taken place,
and new things I declare;
before they spring into being
I announce them to you.

Isaiah 43:18-19
Forget the former things;
do not dwell on the past.
See, I am doing a new thing!
Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the desert
and streams in the wasteland.

I am hungry - not for what was, but for what will be. I want to know God today, not merely remember how I knew Him yesterday. I want to hear from the Lord about what He is doing now, not only about what He did before. He asks me to go forward, not to turn back.

Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.

-Philippians 3:13-14

False Alarm

2006-09-20T13:12:00.000-07:00

The phone rang at 2:56 p.m. today. It was Pastor Tom.

"Hey, Mindy! Uh... how ya doing, buddy?" His voice was unusually hesitant.

"I was doing great. What's going on?" I'm thinking, somebody died!

"Well, we had a little accident here at church. A pipe burst in Room 44, and... well... all of the One By One materials are ruined."

Long silence. Ok, so nobody died, but this was still a shocker. When I finally got my breath back, all I managed was a low "oh." And then a moment later, "That's bad."

"Anyway, I was thinking maybe you guys wanted to head over here to see if you can salvage anything before the custodians throw it all out."

"Yes, please don't let them throw anything out before we look at it!" I was adamant on that point.

Two brief phone calls followed. One to Natasha, the other to my mother, who was out shopping. They both took it admirably well. No fainting, no crying, no shouting, no murder.

After I hung up the second time, the phone rang again. It was Carrie, Tom's secretary.

" 'Destroyed' was the wrong word choice," was her opening comment.

"Huh?"

"Tom and I went and checked it out, and you definitely do not have destroyed materials. You do, however, have some slightly soggy, and possibly wrinkly materials. But they are definitely not destroyed."

Oh, I was breathing easy! What am I saying, I was grinning like a fool!

"So please do not rush over here to check things out. You can stop by before or after church tonight. There is absolutely no rush."

"Thank you, Carrie. Thank you so much."

"April Fools!" was her final, humorous remark.

Honestly, I am so relieved. I've never been so thankful for soggy, wrinkly educational materials in my life!

Hot and Bothered

2006-09-13T19:15:00.000-07:00

When I get angry, I get hot. When I feel terribly embarrassed, I get hot. When I speak my mind on a topic about which I feel strongly, I get hot. So in spite of my India-thinned blood, I'm not cold one hundred percent of the time. (That being said, I must admit I'm still putting on sweaters while others nearby are wearing shorts.)

I had one of these "hot flashes" (not like yours, Mom) just last night.

It was 8 p.m. and I had just walked into Sam's Club, heading for the photo counter. I recently bought some nice picture frames for India pictures, and I was planning on ordering digital prints. A quick Sam's stop, and straight on to Ikea. But right from the get-go, it went all wrong.

Four of the five digital workstations were down. The fifth was just being booted up, and an older gentleman was watching it start. As I watched, he selected one envelope from a large stack of them he had stowed in the front of his cart. He pulled out a CD and an order form. It soon became clear that he was ordering prints for members of an entire class reunion. Not only was he printing all kinds of photos multiple times over, he was painstakingly typing each person's name and the title of the reunion at the bottom of each picture. Good golly.

After a brief chat with the photo lab technician, I realized my only option was to wait - and wait I did. After about fifteen solid minutes of standing in one place, I began to weary of the inactivity. So I stepped about ten feet across the aisle and sauntered around, looking at windbreakers and hooded sweaters and shirts. I ended up leaning up agains the jacket display, watching Slow Poke from a distance.

After awhile, I happened to look at the many TV screens across the way. Anything to keep my mind active. When I glanced back, there was a women just coming up to the photo workstation with a CD in hand. I quickly crossed the aisle and regained my place behind Mr. Poke.

"There's only one computer working," she informed me.

"Yeah, I asked about that when I got here," I responded.

"Looks like this guy has a lot to do," was her comment. "And I have a lot of pictures to edit and print, too, so..." she looked apologetic.

Apologetic? Yes! She was implying that perhaps I wouldn't want to wait for her to finish. Um, I wasn't planning on waiting for her. I was next in line. I began to feel a little warm. Then it occurred to me that, to her, it seemed that I had walked up just after she did. As I was considering which would be the politest way to let her know I was there first, she threw another surprise.

"I've been already been waiting for quite awhile," she said with confidence.

Excuse me? I watched you walk up here less than 90 seconds ago! I could feel myself flushing. I thought I'd nicely let her know the truth.

"Actually, I got here almost a half hour ago. I've been waiting the whole time."

I was nice. I promise. But she gave me a look that clearly spelled out her disbelief. She obviously thought I was lying. But I knew she was! I started thinking about taking off my sweater.

Right about then, Slow Poke finished up and moved his cart away from the workstation. Without waiting a millisecond, she wheeled her cart right in front of me. Oh, feel the heat rise! What is she doing?! But... still wanting to be nice... and really needing to leave... I decided to just ask. No accosting, no accusing, no attitude. Only asking.

"Ma'am, I only have a dozen or so pictures to order. Would you mind if I just did that really quickly?"

She put the CD into the computer. "Oh, I won't be very long." It was at this point I thought I was topping out at about 104* F.

Five minutes passed, and I absolutely had to leave. Ikea was closing soon, and that was my next stop. I was so hot and bothered that, powered by my own steam, I was almost all the way to the back of the parking lot before I realized I'd parked in the front row.

It took me several minutes to cool down again. And yes, I drove with the windows down.

Eavesdropping

2006-08-27T12:57:00.000-07:00

What do two sunflowers gossip about, anyway? I couldn't get close enough to catch the whispers. But it certainly seems that some secret was quickly spreading across the field I stopped to admire.

By the way, did everyone but me already know about the masses of sunflowers the state of Minnesota produces? I had no idea, but I sure passed dozens of them on my way home from Roseau last week. They were fun to watch, all of them facing the sun like an audience at a giant outdoor movie theater.

Kalimpong, West Bengal, India

2006-08-22T18:58:00.000-07:00

Driving Miss Mindy

2006-08-18T16:24:00.000-07:00

Hello, hello.
I just returned from a roadtrip to Roseau.
Seven hours up on Tuesday, seven hours back on Friday.
All by myself.

I actually had loads of fun. Not just in between the driving days, but during. More on that later. But first, here's an idea of how excited I was to go up and see my beautiful friend Emily and her husband Rob....

I stayed fairly entertained the entire time. I'm not easily bored. Here I am listening to Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream. I look pensive because I am. I'm trying to remember my lines from once upon a time when I was in that show...

I'm telling you, the entire trip was thrilling. There were... fields... and trees... and lots of lakes. Oh yeah, and then the fields. Did I mention fields? And ponds? The shrubbery and trees? It was awesome. I wasn't bored even once. Really.

Ok, maybe by hour number seven I was a little ready to get out of the car. Fun pictures from the trip coming up later!

Oakwood City Residence

2006-08-13T14:42:00.000-07:00

Traveling the world has its ups and downs. Missing your flight home after being gone a year is definitely one of the downs. But when Steffi and I missed ours because of a not-delivered wake-up call, we discovered one of the ups: free hotel stays!

We stayed at Oakwood City Residence in Bangkok, Thailand for an unexpected extra night. After the initial disbelief and devastation - "We're NOT going home today?!" - we found we had been given a beautiful gift. Our first night was short and hurried - quick swim in the pool, quick tour of the grounds, and quick instant noodle dinner. Our second, unplanned day was leisurely and pleasant. We discovered beautiful nooks tucked away in various corners of the hotel...

We spent the morning reading our Bibles at the side of this beautiful pool...

...and even had a sweet hour of prayer in these beautiful surroundings...

We also spent time at the nearby mall sampling various Thai foods and buying cheap jewelry. After adding in laughter, a warm sunny day, and just the fun of spending time together... we found we wouldn't have gone back and changed a thing! God's little surprises are always different from what we expect... and better!

Oh, the Pain!

2006-08-12T19:59:00.000-07:00

Last night I played on my sister's co-ed softball team in her place, as she is having fun in the sun in Florida. Seeing as I hadn't picked up a glove, bat, or ball in over a year, I warned my brother-in-law that I might not exactly be an asset to the team. He countered with, "Mel, we're short two girls. Basically, we need a body."

Well, I have one of those. And boy do I feel it! They stuck me at catcher, where I could do the least possible damage to the team. We played a double header. That means there were two full hours of squatting down to catch the pitch and standing up to throw it. Squat, stand, squat, stand, squat, stand, on and on (and on) until I couldn't even guess the number of squats. All I know is it was WAY more than I would ever do in my right mind in any exercise class. Seriously.

This morning when I woke up, I could hardly walk. I can't wait until tomorrow. It's always worse the second day...

Second Try

2006-08-11T11:01:00.000-07:00

While we were in Cross Lake last month, we decided to climb this old fire tower.

It took quite a long time.

And when we got to the top, the watchtower platform was locked up. But the view was still worth it.

First Try

2006-08-10T17:27:00.000-07:00

So call me a little behind-the-times, but I've never posted a picture on my blog. Here goes my first shot. This is me and my beautiful sister at her birthday dinner. We love P. F. Chang's. We also love sitting at a table so near the restaurant's front door that incoming diners can sample off your plate, and the Piccadilly valet boys keep asking which car you were waiting to pick up. It was a fun night.

Just Wondering

2006-08-09T18:59:00.000-07:00

Maybe it's some kind of magic number thing, but I was kind of waiting for five.

Four listeners... is that enough to start doing something with this blog again?

"Testing... Testing... one, two, three...."

2006-07-19T19:48:00.000-07:00

This is a sound test. Is anyone still listening?

Post a comment, please.

Thanks, Chris, for the Quiz

2005-08-10T17:38:00.000-07:00

No big surprises here...

Your Brain is 73.33% Female, 26.67% Male

Your brain leans female
You think with your heart, not your head
Sweet and considerate, you are a giver
But you're tough enough not to let anyone take advantage of you!

Wanna take the quiz? Go here, and sorry if I can't get this to link properly...

http://www.blogthings.com/genderbrainquiz/

I'm Sorry!

2005-07-31T22:07:00.000-07:00

I think I forgot I had a blog. No, really. Today a friend I won't see again before I leave was saying goodbye and reminding me to email her.

"Or," she said, "you could just update your blog every once in awhile. That would be as good as an email."

Hmmm, I thought, my blog. I have one of those? Oh yeah, I think it's pink.

Seriously, folks. I do apologize. But there have been a few other events, concerns, and plans keeping my mind and fingers otherwise occupied. I've been operating on an event-to-event basis. Yesterday was the One By One picnic, today was my duet recital. Next up, Candi's bridal shower on Thursday, and singing in church on Sunday. (Why, oh why, do all these things require so much prep time?)

Vietnam stories... ... they are so good. I'll have to just bit the bullet and neglect India shopping (or something) to get a couple more out. I clearly lied when I promised I'd completely finish before leaving. Well, no, I take that back. A lie is intentionally deceitful. This was more of a misunderstanding. (Or perhaps just optimism?)

We'll see what I can do. But in the meantime I have some interesting facts for you:

#1. I will be living alone for two to three weeks when I first get to India. Just my luck. Good news is I've already been invited to dine with the Andersons until my roommates get back and help me adjust to a new kitchen (and way of cooking.)

#2. In India, if I want to eat chicken, I have to go pick out a live one and have them kill it for me. (They remove the feathers, I'm told. I hope.)

#3. They don't wear or sell deoderant in India.

#4. There are no normal toilets in India. (In other words, I will be an expert at the "squatty potty" by the time Thanksgiving rolls around... wait. Hopefully WAY before that.)

#5. After August 11th, all of my girl friends will be married except two. Two!

#6. Duet recitals are way more fun than solo recitals. You're much less nervous, so you can play with much more confidence and sensitivity. Plus, you get more breaks.

#7. When someone says they'll bring cookies to a recital, it doesn't mean they will. Luckily, people never eat as many cookies as you think they will.

#8. It is now 10:04 pm.

#9. Even if you wait two years to give someone a CD you promised them, they're still grateful when they receive it.

#10. It's difficult to come up with interesting facts when you're talking on the phone.

And that's about it, folks!

:)

Old News and a Vow

2005-05-29T00:11:00.000-07:00

First the Old News, which all of you know by now. But it's related to the vow, so I have to include it. Here it is: I am leaving mid-August to spend the next school year (ten months or so) in northeast India. I will be teaching two missionary kids, 3rd and 6th grade, and seeing what else God has for me to do over there. The nearby Youth With A Mission's DTS program has a fine arts focus, so there likely will be opportunities to work with them in music and drama, which has potential to be very fun. But anyway, the point is I'm leaving.

Now for the Vow. In light of my upcoming departure, I am setting a goal. It is my intent to finish blogging about my Vietnam trip before I leave. Hey, stop rolling your eyes. You have no idea how much there is to say! Two and a half months will be barely squeezing it in. I'm calling it a vow, just to make it sound more official and important. Maybe then I'll actually do it. :)

I give you permission to get on my case if it looks like I'm going too slow!

I Must Be Bored...

2005-05-26T21:45:00.000-07:00

... because I created a quiz about myself! If you're bored, too, go ahead and click here: http://www.quizyourfriends.com/takequiz.php?quizname=050526224346-22733"
And have fun while you're at it.

PS - I will be posting again about Vietnam, don't worry. Just hang in there.

A Narrow Escape

2005-05-19T21:16:00.000-07:00

I saw the creepy guy from "One Kind of Flattery" at Perkins the other day. I quickly walked away and he didn't see me.

Whew.

"Just the Bear Facts"

2005-05-13T22:58:00.000-07:00

I have a journal with chairful of adorable teddy bears on the cover. Just above the picture it says "JUST THE BEAR FACTS." Very cute. And very untruthful.

Bare facts are not exactly what went in this journal. Oh, there were plenty of factual events I related from my own life, but most of it is a little more colorful. I received this journal from a friend when I was ten years old. I named it "Josie" (don't ask me why) and I wrote in it haphazardly for a couple years, at which point it began to appear too childish for me, and I graduated to a notebook. But from time to time my notebooks would fill up, and this teddy bear journal would fill in until I got a new one. I've had fun paging through it tonight.

My very first entry is a rather boring account of my brother's birthday party.

My very second entry is exactly three months later. (I had a little trouble getting into the habit of writing.) This entry is a list of all my relatives. Really. It's thrilling. But the last paragraph got me thinking...

About three weeks ago, my dad found out that the place where he worked had shut down, so now he won't have a job after June somethin' or other. You might be surprised, but I'm really not worried about it. One night in Minnesota, mom prayed with me about it. I've never worried about it since. I'm really trusting God that he'll provide our needs, job or no job. He's praying about applying for a North West job in Minnesota. I'm not sure I'm ready for that.

The loss of my dad's job way back in1991 was the first real "trial" I had encountered so far in my life. And how reassuring it is to look back and realize that in that very first uncertain time, God made His peace known to me. Can't I count on Him to do the same thing now? I know I can.

Lest you think I was a super-spiritual little preteen, here's an exerpt from 7-8-93:
Tonight we took Jodi out to Burger King. We talked to some relatives there, and then I saw Gary Mayhew. He is so cute. SSSOOO CCCUUUTTTEEE!!! Dreamy. But he never even looks my way. Why should I care?

After 1993, the teddy bear journal became an outlet for strange impulses. In eighth grade, I wrote a series of journal entries as a character I was playing in "Loudmouth George" at Child's Play Theatre. In ninth grade I went through a phase of writing down absolutely everything I ate every day. (That's a real page-turner, now.) There's a poem or two as well, and then....

10/29/96
Guess what? We started going to Bloomington Assembly a few weeks ago. (Who knew we'd end up in a big church?)

After that, a short story. Pretty darn good, I think. But I'm not including it here. There's a few pages of Scripture quotes and then we skip ahead to a very momentous day.

8/27/99
I feel so strange. This is my "last" night home, and my journal is packed away. I move in to NCU tomorrow morning. I should be excited, nervous, scared, sad, or happy. But in the midst of all the packing and rushing around, I've felt... almost nothing. Just an odd sense of vague uneasiness.

Oh Mindy, Mindy. Little did you know. Your last night home? No, dear one. Your last night home is yet to occur, but it's on its way. And I do know it will feel strange. Just how strange I have yet to discover. I imagine I will be excited, nervous, scared, sad, and happy... all at the same time. Or will I again feel nothing? Time will tell.

It's Okay, You Can Laugh at Me

2005-05-07T22:32:00.000-07:00

I am about to open myself up to endless ridicule, I know, but I can't help it. This story is too good not to share.

On Wednesday, I was about thirty minutes ahead of schedule, and I ended up having some time to kill before I began teaching piano. So rather than sit in my car outside my students' house for half an hour, I drove about three blocks to a nearby sledding hill, which of course right now is lovely and green.

For most of the next half-hour, I went over my notes for youth service. (I was speaking that night.) The warm breezes were blowing through the open windows of my car, and the sun was warming my skin. About five minutes before I needed to head back, I stepped outside the car and stood at the top of the hill, surveying the so-far unparalleled spring day. Sunshine sparkled off a nearby pond, and the trees at the bottom of the hill swayed contently. And that's when it happened.

I decided to run down the hill.

Now before you laugh at me or patronise me, take a moment's pause. Haven't you ever been overwhelmed by the joy of a beautiful day? Have you ever been so caught up in the excitement of just being alive that you had to do something? I remember one day when I was in high school, my mother and I took a walk. It was a lovely day and I was happy with life. So I skipped a bit. I twirled around once or twice. Then I remember asking my mother if it was because I was young that I was doing this, or if it was simply because I was me? She just looked at me, confused. I came at it from another angle. "Mom, when you were young, did you dance around when you were excited? 'Cause you don't now." She answered in the negative. So I decided that it had more to do with Mindy than it did with youth, and I figure that even when I'm eighty I'll be a little bouncier on beautiful days.

Anyway, all that to say... I decided to run down the hill. (Go ahead and laugh, now that you've taken pause.) It's a pretty steep hill, so as I ran I got a little out-of-control. It was that feeling of my feet just spinning under me - there is no way I could move my legs that fast on purpose... they just sort of went. And I knew that if they sort of didn't go... I would end up on my face. So I'm glad they made it on their own.

I ended my brief, downhill sprint at the bottom of hill, breathless and laughing. It was great. Then I turned around and climbed back up to my waiting car. End of story. Or not.

See, when I got to church that night, I went to put my cell phone into my purse and... couldn't find it. The batteries had died earlier that afternoon, so I thought I had just left it in the car somewhere. I didn't see it, but I wasn't worried. My car was a mess - it was in there somewhere - I'd find it when I got home that night.

I didn't. Neither did I find it when I looked again the next morning. Getting more concerned, I searched my purse again, my room, my pockets... Aha. My pockets.

A hypothesis began forming in my mind. My cell wasn't in my car, or anywhere else that I could discover. If I had happened to have it in the pocket of my cords, it should still be there. Except... memories of racing down that darn sledding hill came creeping into my consciousness... if it had been there when I ran down the hill...

I got in my car and drove back to the same spot. I examined the parking lot thoroughly, and then started on the hill. Rather embarrassed to see a dog-walker and his pooch staring curiously nearby, I nevertheless proceeded to walk a slow, back-and-forth pattern across the approximate path I just yesterday had careened wildly down.

Please let it be here, please let it be here.... changed to... God if it's here let me see it as I reached the end of my search. My heart sank and I felt pretty silly standing there. And then I saw it. My precious cell phone laying on its face in the grass just a few feet from where I stood! Yes! Feeling a strange mixture of triumph and embarrassment, I scooped it up and headed back to my car.

So there's the story. My cell phone is none the worse for the wear, and I enjoyed a good laugh after it was all over.

Plus, running down the hill was just plain fun.

Chapter Six - The Bombshell

2005-05-03T21:57:00.000-07:00

No, there were no bombings in Saigon while we were there (or since we were there, for that matter.) But Thursday evening at our team meeting, some news was dropped on the group that felt like a mortar explosion to some of us. Allow me to explain...

...on one condition. You must request this one personally, folks. You know the drill. Email me, or post a comment right here (as long as I already have your email address.) It does start getting really good, at least in my humble opinion. So email me. Or comment. Whatever.

mindy_dahlen@hotmail.com

Chapter Five - Cu Chi

2005-04-26T21:57:00.000-07:00

Believe it or not, this is the fifth chapter and I am just now describing our first full day in Vietnam. At this rate… never mind, I don’t want to think about it.

Our hotel in Ho Chi Minh City– the An-An (pronounced ayng-ayng, sort of) – was one room wide, two rooms long, and eleven stories tall. That morning we climbed to the highest floor (or took the elevator) for the first time, where we found the room on the right was the kitchen, and the room on the left was a small dining area. This was where we would breakfast every morning on whatever happened to strike our fancy from the menu. Personally, I opted for yogurt, fresh fruit (anybody ever tried dragon-fruit?), and bread just about every morning. The breakfast menu was where we got our first money conversion shock. Imagine looking at the menu and discovering it costs 10,000 dong for two eggs and bread… and then puzzling it out until you figure out it’s actually about sixty cents.

Even in the morning, it was sticky and too warm, but the dining room had two walls that were nearly completely windows… and the view was fabulous. How can I describe it... ? If you’ve ever seen a massive city that’s not too clean, that’s a good start. Now make all the buildings really narrow and close together (think San Francisco) and add lots of bright colors. We didn’t see many beige or brown buildings in that city – they were yellow, orange, blue, green, and pink! Now place a few cars in the streets, but just a few… and then fill every highway and byway with speeding mopeds! Add fruit stands on almost every corner, with lots of people lounging outside on white plastic chairs… and you’ve just about got it.

After breakfast we hopped in a couple taxi-vans and headed over to the Cu-Chi Tunnels, which I had never heard of until that morning. Cu-Chi. Sounded like something you might say to a baby to make it smile. Turns out it’s a site that has preserved the underground tunnels the Viet Cong used in guerilla warfare during the Vietnam war. Cu Chi. Sounds so innocent.

Upon arriving at the tunnels, we were taken by our tour guide into a hot, close little room where we were shown a video portraying the communist Vietnamese perspective on the war. Quite alarming. It made me feel ill to hear a triumphant female voice hail the mighty war heroes, who had slain hundreds of American soldiers single-handedly! The crueler the death, the higher the glory. If an American had to lie suffering for a day before he bled to death, the Viet Cong that built the trap was lauded all the more.

We were shown a little mini-model of what the tunnels were like and how far they reached underground. I felt avidly curious and at the same time repulsed at the thought of so many men living in tiny spaces underground, all in order to wage a kind of warfare hitherto unknown to American soldiers. Afterwards, when we walked outside and were shown many secret entrances to the tunnels, I smelled a hint of the fear that our troops must have walked with as they cautiously entered the area. A trap could be at your very feet, a hidden sniper three feet behind you, or ten soldiers directly under you, and you would never know it until you were wounded. It made my spine crawl.

Maybe you’ve read about these tunnels, and the types of warfare that surrounded them, but actually being there was mind-boggling. Several of the tunnels had been carved out a little larger than they were originally, in order to facilitate the backsides of “fat American tourists” (such as ourselves.) Most of the team braved the dark and the creepy-crawlers and made the descent into the earth. I’ll never forget that experience…

I went in a few feet behind Pastor Darin, somehow feeling a little less spooked with him close by. I felt like I barely fit, walking completely hunched over, with knees bent. In front of me, Pastor Darin practically filled the entire tunnel, blocking all light that was coming up. (There were little electric lights installed every fifteen feet or so that made everything a little more bearable – at least we didn’t have to feel our way through!) I felt the twenty-five feet of earth resting above me, and I was so glad to see a ray of daylight coming from the exit of the tunnel, a steep ladder climbing nearly straight up out of the tunnel. There was the option of going down another three meters, but I was told the tunnel got much smaller and went on another thirty feet or so. I opted out, and reached the fresh air gratefully.

Probably the most disturbing thing about Cu Chi was not the radical video we were shown, nor the system of underground tunnels that were used for cruel warfare, but the actual traps that were still in place. We saw deep pits filled with sharp spikes, cleverly covered with innocent-looking trap doors. We saw small holes dug in the earth that would imbed a soldier’s leg with more metal spikes, positioned in such a way as to keep him from ever pulling his leg back out. We saw the traps they placed in civilian huts, which would kill the person who first entered. We saw so many things I wish I could forget, and yet somehow I know the knowledge of them is worth having.

There was an American tank still sitting in the spot where it had been taken by the Vietnamese. Somehow that made me the saddest of all. I don’t know why. I thought of the men who had been driving it, who no doubt met their Maker in that very spot. It was sobering. It made me think about eternity.

There was a place you could pay five bucks to shoot an actual gun of some kind. (I know nothing about guns, so I can’t tell you what kind. The army kind, I guess. All I know is that many of the guys, and even some of the girls, were very excited at the opportunity.) Several did it. I just covered my ears and tried not to think of those very same types of guns ending lives. I didn’t do a whole lot of smiling at Cu Chi.

Before we done, we had to pass through the inevitable gift shop area. I actually bought my mom a little collectible there, but I can never look at it without shuddering. Tim bought me a drink. That’s a strange detail to remember, but you have to keep in mind how thirsty the heat can make you! It seemed like the one of the most important events of the day, that bottle of soda pop.

After that we scrambled back into the taxi-vans (I keep calling them that because I don’t know if they have a real name)… Oh wait. Before we left, I made the entire group wait while I went to the bathroom. Seriously, the whole week I was one of the only team-members who consistently drank enough. I considered myself the Water Mom, even though I’m not a mom, bringing a large bottle of water everywhere with me so I could share with those who didn’t think ahead. Anyway, I did need to use the restroom, and I do believe the experience was altogether unpleasant.

Finally, we did make our way back to Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon) and found ourselves once again very grateful for our air-conditioned hotel rooms. It was only mid- or late-afternoon, but we were ready for a nice breather before dinner and our team meeting. Dinner was at the Café 3-3-3 (go banana shakes and pineapple pizza!), and the team meeting I’ll leave for another day. Believe me, it needs its own story.

Until next time!

A Commonly Known Fact

2005-04-22T15:32:00.000-07:00

'Plus One' makes great cleaning music!

A Promise

2005-04-01T07:48:00.000-08:00

Look, people, I've had some other things on my mind lately, okay? But I want to reassure you that I will post again, and I will do it soon. I promise.

Hmm. That reminds me of an unspeakably horrible dramatic production I saw last night. Honestly - a friend asked how it was, and I literally answered "unbelievably bad." But anyway, in that scary-beyond-all-reason (for reasons of its poor quality) musical, the antagonist promises a little boy that if he brings his brother and sisters to her, he will be made a prince and will be able to eat turkish delight for the rest of his days! Later on, when she instead makes him her slave, she claims "witches don't have to keep their promises - they only have to make them!"

All that to say, I am not a witch. Really, when I promise I will post, I mean it. And not only do I mean it, I mean to do it. (Are you as confused as I am?) So once again I say it...

I will post again, and I will do it soon. I promise.

Chapter Four - The Transfer

2005-03-03T21:35:00.000-08:00

Same story, folks. The new chapter's waiting. Email me, please, and I will send it to you. Or, if you're 100% sure I have your email address, just post a comment. I'm warning you, though, this one is a bit longer than the others... and that's after I shortened it. I hope it's worth your time.

Thanks, all! Keep reading. It does stay interesting. And keep commenting. The encouragement definitely keeps me on track.

mindy_dahlen@hotmail.com

Chapter Three - Criminal Activity

2005-02-20T22:23:00.000-08:00

Due to the the sensitive content of this portion of the trip, Chapter 3 will be available on a per request basis only. If you are interested in reading it, please post a comment with your email address, or email me at mindy_dahlen@hotmail.com. If I approve of you, I will email Chapter 3 directly to you free of charge. If I do not approve of you, I will deny your request. If you are denied, you will have one chance to write me an email containing a 200 word essay on why you are worthy of reading this account. If you are accepted at this point, I will send you the chapter, but you will be fined for your unworthiness the first time around. If you are denied a second time, you might as well admit it, you are simply not good enough. Sorry.

no, really, I do want you all to read this! I just don't feel confident about the wisdom of posting it on the web. So please do email me. Thanks.

Wrong Number

2005-02-08T21:45:00.000-08:00

Today I was sitting at Davanni's with a friend when my cell phone rang. Looking at the caller ID, I saw that it was a Bloomington number and guessed it might be one of my piano students' parents.

"Hello?"

A man's voice was speaking on the other end of the line. "Put down that drink and answer the phone!"

I laughed in spite of myself.

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, don't play innocent with me, Linda."

Awkward pause as I laughed silently. (When I laugh hard, I always laugh silently.)

"Uh... this is Linda, isn't it?"

By now I had control of my breath. "No, I think you have the wrong number."

There was a brief pause, and then the guy cracked up. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I thought I dialed my friend Linda's cell phone! Isn't this 612-701-5334?"

Still chuckling, I informed him he was just one digit off.

"So sorry about this. Have a great day."

"You too."

And I think we both went our merry ways a little bit more lighthearted.

Chapter Two - Sunscreen, Shorts, and Elephants

2005-01-18T20:11:00.000-08:00

I think I chose the wrong title. My title really should have the word "Bangkok" in it, or at least "Thailand," since that's where all this occurred. Oh well. Titles aren't exactly my specialty.

It's now Wednesday morning. Pastor Darin had us all meet in his room at some ungodly hour (like 8:30 a.m.) to discuss plans for the day. Our rigorous traveling schedule from the previous days should have left us just wanting another nap, but of course, we were on the other side of the world and ready to see all of it!

We hurried back to our rooms to get ready to hop on a couple vans, and here's where part of the title comes in. I don't know... There's just something significant about the first time you put on sunscreen when you're on a missions trip, at least for me. I never know how well it's going to work, because I've never been at exactly this latitude and longitude. So I lather it on until my face is shiny and beautiful.... well, just shiny. In contrast, my roommate for the trip and dear friend Shannon dabbed a miniscule amount on her nose and pronounced herself sunblocked. What can I say.... she wanted a tan, I wanted a burn-free trip!

The next significant pre-departure event was the donning of... SHORTS! We were treading on very thin ice here, despite the tropical heat, because we had been instructed by one of our leaders never to wear shorts in Vietnam. However, we weren't in Vietnam yet, and she wasn't there! So... the shorts went on, right over the sunscreen.

So, be-sunscreened and be-shorted, the 20 or so of us scrambled into two taxi vans and headed through Bangkok to the river.

Bangkok, what we saw of it anyway, is quite the city. It's enormous, buildings spreading out as far as you can see in every direction. But what struck me wasn't its size, but its variety. There were skyscrapers, factories, suburban-type homes, shacks, livestock, trains, you name it, we saw it in Bangkok. But most interesting was the way it was all laid-out, or rather, wasn't laid out. We didn't drive past a warehouse district, through a residential neighborhood, and into an inner city with skyscrapers and industrial buildings. No, as we watched the city rush past our van windows, we saw these things, literally in a row: a middle-class home, a garden, a skyscraper, a garbage dump, a factory, a big field with an elephant in it, train tracks, a car lot, and then we got to the river where we were heading all along.

Wait, did I say elephant? Yes, I did. It had us all scrambling for our cameras, not because we'd never seen one before, but because we'd never seen one casually meandering through someone's large backyard. Apparently he's kept by someone to help with the outside chores. I'm not sure if Mr. Long Nose plows fields or carries heavy loads, or what (but I'm pretty sure he wouldn't remember if I asked him! Isn't there some saying about elephants having short memories...?)

Anyway, once we got to the river (and I really should look on a map and see which river this is), we divided ourselves into three groups for 'klong rides.' I have no idea if I'm spelling that right, by the way. But, in my words, a 'klong' is a long, skinny, motorized tourist boat that took us out for an hour or so exploring the sights along the banks of the river.

And oh, what sights they were! But before we get to the sights, I must describe the smells. Or rather, the smell (singular.) Hmm... how can I make you understand.... Ok. Think of three smells you absolutely can't stand. For me, that would be a port-a-potty, a wet dog, and rotten eggs. Please imagine, if you can, a scent that combines all three of your least favorite smells. Now cut the intensity in half, so it's possible to breathe without gagging (although not without making a face)... and you've got something close to what this river smelled like!

And now for the sights. First of all, the river. The main drag was pretty wide, maybe a quarter mile across (?), but there were lots of little inlets (outlets? riverettes?) winding off on both sides, leading off in different directions. The water itself was the color of a cup of coffee mixed with about three creamers, but believe me, you wouldn't want this stuff near your mouth. In fact, every once in a while, the wind would splash a wave up over the edge of the klong into our faces, and my first thought (after clamping my mouth shut and grimacing) was how lovely it would be to douse myself in hand sanitizer.

In spite of the smell and the seemingly toxic water, I was taken with all I saw along this river. I was intrigued not because I loved what I saw, but because everything in sight was so utterly foreign - completely different from anything western. Along the "main drag" (which seems to be the easiest way to put it) were massive hotels, tourist-type stores, and ornate Buddhist and Hindu temples. The wind was up and the boats were moving fairly fast, so the ride was invigorating and refreshing. Then we slowed up and turned into what might be called a tributary. As we floated gently into the more sheltered, narrow stream, the smell made its presence rudely known again.

There were houses all along both sides of the narrow water, jutting out over the water and supported by wooden posts. I remember seeing pictures of dwellings like these in elementary school social studies books. It was strange to see them up close. Most homes were more like shacks, with glassless windows and dilapidated steps leading right down to the water. Several women we passed watched us cautiously as they washed their dishes in the river. In the river. I don't want know what else goes into that river, but I can imagine. In almost every home, we saw either a Buddha or a statue of some Hindu god. A few Hindu flags waved tall above the roofs. We also saw many smaller temples of some sort, probably Hindu.

Sometime during this eye-opening klong ride, our drivers turned off the motors to allow a few souvenir-selling women in pointy round hats (the kind you picture in a rice paddy) to approach us in some type of canoe-like boat. They offered us all sorts of goodies, none of which we wanted. Even if we had, we had no baht, or Thai currency. And towards the end of the trip, the three klongs actually docked by a reptile show of some sort, hoping to entice us in. Um... snakes? Enticing? I don't think so.

When we got back to our original place of departure, all of us of course needed to use the bathroom, but only Linda was brave enough to deal with what she expected to be a "squatty potty." Turns out it was actually a secluded dock with a crack between the planks. That made me feel oh-so-much worse about the women washing their dishes in the river...

When we were nearly back to our hotel, we spotted a McDonalds. Everyone, being famished, thought it would be a marvelous idea to dine there. Since we were so close to our hotel, as our fearless leader Justin promised, we all decided it would be fun to simply walk back after lunch. A little exercize, you know, after sitting in that klong a little too long. Catch a few rays, see some more of the city close up... sounds like a plan. I, for one, thought it was a fabulous idea.

Thirty minutes and a mile and a half later, I had changed my mind. Though I certainly appreciated my previously-applied sunscreen, my modest-but-cute T-shirt was soaking wet, and it wasn't raining. Next time you think you're lost, consider asking for directions in a country you've never visited, to people who speak a language you don't know. It's great fun. But long story short, we got there in a more or less straight line, amazingly enough. We simply weren't quite as close to our hotel as we thought. And none of us will ever trust Justin again...

We did finally get back to our hotel, and several of us felt like kissing the doorstep (and slapping Justin.) Let me tell you, I've never been so glad to be staying at a place that has a pool.

The rest of the afternoon was pretty uneventful. Just a sweaty dance practice in me and Shannon's room, and a session of re-packing before we left for the airport again. But now's where the story gets interesting, or at least more significant, so I better leave it for a later day!

One Kind of Flattery

2004-12-21T15:46:00.001-08:00

Today at Perkins, I had just taken an order and had turned to bring it to the kitchen when a man from the adjacent section approached me.

"Hello," he said. He looked just like toy store owner on Toy Story 2, with a pony tail. "I just wanted you to know that I specifically asked for the young girl's section when I saw you, but instead I got stuck in some guy's section. I really wanted you. And I just wanted you to know."

"Oh... ok." I turned with wide eyes and continued my journey to the computers to punch in the order I still had in my hand. By the time I reached the computer, I had cracked a smile, and after successfully ringing in two eggs benedict and a turkey club, I laughed loud and long.

What was he trying to do? Flatter me? Because all the feeling he managed to excite in me was that creepy, get-me-away-from-this-guy-right-now feeling. Honestly. The young girl's section? If that's not spooky, I don't know what is.

I understand what could have happened. It's very possible he's sat in my section before, and enjoyed himself. So when he walked into the lobby today and saw I was working, he simply asked for my section by pointing to the right and referring to me as the "young girl", to distinguish me from the older woman working in the next room. At that point one of two things happened. Possibly Nack (a Thai girl with limited English skills) was there to seat him, and all she understood was the pointing finger, so she took him in the general direction, and he ended up at one of Chris's tables. Otherwise, it was Josh seating, and his creep radar sounded an alarm just as loudly as mine did, so he did what he could to protect me from the weird guy.

But perhaps the man should have thought before opening his mouth. All it sounded like to me was that he walked in, looked around, found a girl who suited his fancy, and asked for her section. Lucky me.

I choose to believe the first scenario, mostly to keep myself from being too creeped out. But whatever the case, I think that guy needs to work on his word choice. (And the pony tail needs to go, too.)

Chapter One - The Longest Day Ever

2004-12-20T21:59:00.000-08:00

There are some things that can't be understood until they're experienced. One of those things is traveling west across the International Date Line. (Well, either direction, really. Both are strange.) I can never decide if I've lived the longest day of my life, or two of the shortest days back to back. Those of you have made a similar trip are nodding your heads with that I know exactly what you mean look on your faces. The rest of you are confused. Let me explain.

I left my house for the Minneapolis/St. Paul airport as the sun was rising on Monday morning. I arrived in the Tokyo/Narita airport as it was setting on Tuesday night.... with no nightfall in between. I'm not sure this was so good for my mental health or general well being. Daylight is, of course, delightful. But twenty-some consecutive hours of daylight, seen only through airport glass and those tiny plane windows, can be a fearsome thing. I guess we did have sort of a man-made night about midway through the Portland-Tokyo flight (the flight attendants closed all the windows and turned off the lights for three hours), but that just made the experience even eerier.

But I'm getting ahead of myself here. At the very beginning of The Day That Wouldn't End, I was just a Minnesota girl at home with 120 lbs. of luggage waiting by the front door. After stuffing it into my mom's trunk, we stopped to pick up my friend and fellow Vietnam-bound traveler (who had more like 150 lbs. of luggage, plus carry-on) and were ready to meet the team and check in before 7 AM. When bags were weighed, checked, and taken away from us, I turned to say good-bye to my mom. In some ways I consider myself a "seasoned traveler," having been on 7 overseas adventures. So the sudden tremor of nervous energy that surged through me as took my leave was surprising. I remember thinking, I feel like I'm leaving for the other side of the world. It momentarily occurred to me with some unwarranted shock that that's exactly what I was doing. I hugged her and smiled, but my mouth felt all trembly and funny, and I knew if I stayed one more second I would burst into tears. "Bye!" I said cheerfully, and I picked up my backpack and went.

The nervous excitement that took up residence in my little tummy was short-lived. Long or multiple flights have a way of stripping me of just about every normal human feeling. And this day's flights were both multiple and long. So the anticipation and anxiety that rattled around inside had settled to a barely-registering low by the time we landed in Portland. After a four-hour layover there, it was at zero. By the time the nine-hour-flight to Tokyo, the excitement level had plunged into the sub-zeros and I actually think I had some sort of negative tally. We had another three hours there, and all I could do was breathe. Not eat, not talk, not laugh, not enjoy a book or a CD... just breathe. And walk, I guess. I had the vague notion that if I didn't move, I might cease to exist, that's how non-human I felt. So I walked with a friend (the same friend of the heavy-luggage reputation.)

But as those few hours drew to an end, I felt a surge of... something. Not really energy, but at least happiness in some measure. Tokyo to Bangkok was our last flight of The Day, and we were about to board. Now, I'm not sure where we got this idea, but our entire team was under the impression that this final flight was going to be the shortest. I mean, heck, we're already in Asia. What can the airtime be between two Asian cities? An hour or two at most, right? Then the news was broken - this was a 6-7 hour flight, depending on tail winds. My heart sunk and that excitement level plunged even deeper in the hole. I'm not sure what I would have done if I hadn't noticed a mother of four children struggling to wake her little ones so they could board.

Instinctively, I approached and asked if I could help. She spoke fairly good English, and accepted my offer thankfully. Her youngest, a little girl of two at the most, was sleeping on a blanket, and would not wake up, not even to the hearty shaking from her older brother. I scooped her up gently and led the troops to the front of the line, where we were allowed to board first. As we walked down the walkway toward the plane, the little girl suddenly picked her head up and looked at me with wide eyes. After solemnly surveying my face for a few seconds, she carefully put her head back on my shoulder and went back to sleep. It was precious. As the mother thanked me, I felt gratitude fill my own heart. For just a few moments, I was lifted out of my emotionless, sub-human state and given something to do. It was a lifesaver.

We landed in Bangkok, Thailand and arrived at our hotel just before midnight and just after we all decided it might be better to just lay down and die. After 3 or 4 shuttle trips, all our luggage was accounted for and we headed up to our rooms. Stifling heat greeted us, but the AC cooled things down pretty quickly. As my head rested on a pillow, and my body was stretched out all the way (both of these are luxuries, as you realize after that much traveling), I felt as though I had not only left my home years ago, but also become someone else entirely in the process. No longer did I care about the Bread, the camp, or the upcoming training in Vietnam - all I wanted was sleep. And I got it.

Besides, I knew everything would look differently in the morning!

Detour

2004-12-09T14:44:00.000-08:00

Sorry, folks, but it occurred to me that it might not be that wise to write about my trip online, where just about anyone would have access to it. I'm running the idea past someone who would know better than I would, and I'll let you know as soon as I find out if Chapter 1 is actually on it's way or not. Sorry for the delay.

My Idea

2004-12-07T10:06:00.000-08:00

Last June, I went to Vietnam. I'm trying to find words that aren't cliche to describe what that trip was like. I want to say "words cannot describe..." but that's so overused. I want to talk about how it "changed my life," even though just about everyone who goes on a missions trip says that when they return, and really, for how many is it actually true? I want to tell you all about how it "opened my eyes" to so many things I'd never seen before, but again, so many people say that.

I returned from Vietnam on July 3rd. The very next day I celebrated American freedom with a patriotic service and our traditional family outing to Excelsior to hear the the Minnesota Orchestra and watch the fireworks. And the day after that... life took off again. Every night as I fell asleep, I promised myself I would start writing about the trip... tomorrow. Days became weeks, and weeks months. And here I am a solid 5 months later, with not one word written about this incredible experience. (Well, I take that back. I think I did write one journal entry about the elephant I saw in Thailand, but that doesn't count.)

So my idea is this: to write about Vietnam in a series of posts on this blog. My reasons are these: first, typing is faster than pen-and-journal; second, if some of you get interested in my stories, and I quit, you might complain, and that would help me to continue writing. And I really want to get these stories out. I've said them several times, but not for several months, so it may take several attempts to get them all out accurately. So please bear with me.

I promise it will be worth it, at least to me, but probably to you, as well. Because (I might as well come right out and say it) words really can't describe how amazing this trip was, and it really did change my life. It honestly opened my eyes to a world I had never before encountered. And I never want to forget why.

So stay tuned. Vietnam Chapter 1 is on its way.

One Day

2004-11-23T16:13:00.000-08:00

Dishonesty. Sure, it's wrong. Certainly most people would love to deny that they occasionally lie. But the more I observe, the more convinced I am that deceit is a thread running through the very fabric of humanity.

You don't have to look very far to find proof. Ask around. Check the weight listed on people's driver's licenses. Then weigh them. Watch how many little piano students simply nod when asked "did you practice this week?" Then talk to their parents. Ask the reporter how many attended the political rally last night. Then ask a reporter with an opposing worldview. Most assuredly, you'll get widely different answers.

But why am I looking so far from home? I don't have to look past myself to find evidence of deceit. Why on earth do I occasionally make references to "going running", when if I were more candid, I would admit it's more of a "run/walk." Uh, scratch that, and call it a "walk/run". Scratch that one more time, because in all honesty, it's really a "run-until-I-can't-stand-it-anymore-(which-is-about-30-seconds)-and-then-walk-until-I-recover." Why don't I just say I'm taking a walk? If people want more details, I can inform them I jog intermittently throughout. But calling it a run is stretching it a bit too far.

Stretching. Even that word is telling. We hesitate to use the words "lie" or "deceive", preferring instead "stretch the truth" or "exaggerate." Why do we do this? What is the root? Certainly pride is a heart of the matter, and sometimes fear. But I must admit, there have been times people have told me things that weren't true, and there was no obvious gain. I've done the same thing. So why? All I can come up with is that deceitfulness is buried deep within the heart of man (ok, woman, too), a never-forgotten ingredient in the recipe of humankind. It's human nature. It's sinful nature.

No, you might say, I'm not a deceitful person. It's simply not in my nature. Uh, check again, my friend. "The heart is deceitful above all things and desperately wicked; who can know it?" Remember what Jesus said? "Out of the overflow of the heart the mouth speaks." So if you lie (or exaggerate or stretch the truth, call it what you will) even one time... it's comin' from your heart, baby! No way around it!

So do we sit back and accept it? Alright, I've got this marvelous (catch the sarcasm here) nature, and apparently my heart is bent on evil. Oh well, guess that's the way it is! May I borrow a phrase from Paul? "By no means!" We may have been born into it, and we may carry the effects of it through life to the grave, but we know that ultimately we are delivered from it. That's why Paul talks about us (and the rest of God's creation) groaning as we long to throw off the flesh we now have and take hold of the life that is truly life - free from the sinful bent we inherited at birth.

I guess dishonesty just served as my launchpad for a bigger topic here. The truth is I feel my flesh like a weight. I don't want to be inclined to lie, and yet I am. I don't want a sinful attitude to leap into my heart towards a person who wrongs me, yet it does. I don't want to ever have to take back words I shouldn't have spoken, yet I do. I am housed in a temporary dwelling - this flesh, and I long for it to be swallowed up and forever lost in eternal life.

I know as long as I breathe, I will have this struggle. But I persevere, for I know that perseverance produces character, and character, hope. "And hope does not disappoint us..." I know I will receive the fullness of God's salvation and life, and I struggle on toward that end. For one day I will shake off this mortal flesh and be clothed with a heavenly dwelling, and the earthly battles will all have been worth it. I live for that day.

Calling for W

2004-10-26T22:28:00.000-07:00

Low, gravelly voice: Hello?
Me: Hi, is this Harold?
Voice: No, this Lois.
Me: Oh, I see...

Let's try this again.

Dial.
Ring.
"Hello?"
"Hello, my name is Mindy, and I'm a volunteer calling on behalf of President Bush..."
"WHY DON'T YOU GET A REAL JOB?!"
"Well, actually-" Click.

Hm. That didn't go so well. Onto the next one.

"Hello, my name is Mindy and I'm calling on behalf of George W. Bush..."
"I'm already voting for him, what more do you want?"
"Oh, well that's wonderful. We're just calling to-"
"I've been supporting him all along. Come, on what more do you people want?"
"Nothing, sir! I'm just so happy that Bush will have your support-
"He's got the votes of my entire family, for Pete's sake! Good grief!"
Click.

Not sure what went wrong there, but something seemed to be rubbing him the wrong way. Let's do one more...

Ring, ring, ring.
"Hello?"
"Cecilia?"
"This is David."
Long pause.
"Why don't I just pretend this call never happened?" Click.

A Song in the Night

2004-10-17T23:34:00.000-07:00

Something about that phrase captivates me. Call me cheesy, melodramatic, idealistic, whatever... but when I hear those words, there's a faint resonance inside me like wind blowing over an empty glass bottle.

Maybe it's because you can't hide from yourself at night. All the laughing and chatting subsides, the lights are turned off, and the time glows on the alarm clock. The thoughts that daylight always hides come swirling in close, and no amount of tossing and turning can chase them away. The image of how others see you is lost, and you are left with who you really are. Night is a time of honesty. Transparency. And for many people, that is a frightening thing.

So the idea of being all alone, in the dark, with a song... it takes my breath away. I read what David wrote and want to cry. "I remember of you in the watches of the night - I sing in the shadow of your wings." Does it get any better? We all know David lived much of his life in heartache and sorrow. But when he lay awake at night, he didn't worry or fear or daydream about the life he would rather have... he sang.

Something inside me cries out for that. I've often been awake at night, sometimes restless, other times startled into consciousness by a bad dream, and of course there's the occasional caffeine high that keeps my eyelids open till the early morning hours. But have I ever in my life been alone, not with my thoughts, but with a song? I'm sorry to admit the answer is only twice, and out of 23 years of nights, that's not an impressive statistic.

But the memory of those two nights gives me more hope than you can imagine. It reminds me that there is a God who, while He doesn't always overwhelm my senses with His presence, occasionally does become "tangible" - in the form of a song. Twice now, in the midst of sorrow and confusion, and in the silence and dark of night, He has surrounded me so completely, and filled me so utterly, that before I knew it, I was whispering a love song into the stillness.

This is the One who is with me every day, even when complaining is more frequent than praise. This is the One who remains with me each night, even when I worry and dream instead of sing. And I know He is real, because in spite of my unworthiness and lack of faith, He gives me a song in the night.

The Sparkle

2004-10-11T22:38:00.000-07:00

No matter how dark things may seem, there's usually a glint of light somewhere. A flicker is all that's needed to reassure you that the sun is still shining, even if you can't see it. And if you've got something that glows a bit... you can make it through the longest of tunnels.

I've got much more than a flicker or a glow. I've got something that sparkles. And even though much of what surrounds my life in this season is shadowy and vague, this one thing flings tiny, brilliant flecks of light in my eyes.

It's almost silly, really. It's just a kid. Every Monday night I tutor an 11-year-old named Elkin. We work on math facts and read stories, sounding out the words that are hard for his Spanish-speaking tongue. We look up Bible verses together and find out exactly what happened to Adam and Eve. We stick stickers on his attendance chart and eat snack. Such simple, ordinary things. But there's a sparkle there. It's in his eyes when he asks for his favorite story. It's in his grin when he beats me at a math game. It's all over his face when he recites a verse by heart.

I guess it isn't just Elkin. The room lights up with the glow of a whole bunch of kids. I get to teach them every week... teach them things that will change their lives forever. I see their faces beam as they understand for the first time where everything came from, and why they need a Savior. I see them bow their heads in prayer and I see the light in their eyes after they give their hearts to their Creator. I see every glint, every flicker, every sparkle. And I know exactly how they feel. Because I sparkle, too. Just like they twinkle and shine for me, I think I light up a little bit of their night, as well. We're like a bunch of mirrors facing each other, reflecting tiny dots of light for infinity into the distance.

I guess it isn't about me, or Elkin, the rest of the kids, or even about all of us together. What sparkles isn't me or him or them - it's Him. "Walk in the light," He says. And "you are the light of the world." I guess when we're doing what He wants, the door cracks open and the light peeks out.

But I like "sparkle" better. :)

I Figured It Out

2004-10-09T21:50:00.000-07:00

In this case, "it" is why people do this blog thing. I've been pondering it and several other significantly more weighty concerns, and this is the only one I've managed to figure out. That's like 1/10. Not great, but much, much better than 0/10.

Anyway, onto "it". Here's the newsflash, folks. People "do the blog" (sounds like a strange, clumsy dance move) because it makes them feel as though they've published something. You type in a little white box, slap a title on your verbal meanderings, and - wa la! - there it is for all to read, in a neat font on a nicely laid-out web page. You're a published author, just like that! Only... it's not really just like that. See, we all know in order to actually be published, you must have a considerable amount of writing skill, a considerably significant idea to communicate, and someone must be willing to put out a considerable amount of money into printing your stuff (not to mention considerable confidence that they'll get their money back and then some!) This stuff, however fun, is not the same thing as being published.

But I can see the charm of it anyway. I actually felt a little thrill when I saw my first post leap outside the little white box onto a terrifically pink website. It looks so important. So official. So worth-reading. So... pink. I'm sure it's a tiny taste of what I might feel if I saw an article I wrote in Time magazine or the Star Tribune. I (believe it or not, folks) actually did have a short article published by a missions periodical last year. And even though it was on the last page, and they edited out what I considered to be all the good parts, I was darn excited about it. This blog kind of reminds me of that.

Well then, I guess I'm joining the ranks of the rest of you pretty-much-unpublished. We think we might be ok at writing, we're fairly confident we have an idea worth sharing, and we're sure as heck nobody's putting any money into us. So here we are.

(Your line: "Welcome to the club, Mindy!")

Thanks.

Peer Pressure

2004-10-08T23:27:00.000-07:00

Forget all my former warnings against the evils of peer pressure. Peer pressure is why I'm writing this now.

Actually, I might temper that, instead labeling it "peer influence" or "peer-induced curiosity". But call it what you will - the simple truth is I am only doing this because people I know are also doing it. My brother's doing it, several of my friends are doing it... But Mom, everybody's doing it! I might as well join in on the fun.

Where the fun is in all this I have yet to discover. Right now I've just randomly selected a template for the site (I guess I was in a pink mood) and arbitrarily named it. For a couple years I've said that if I ever have my own youth group, I'm naming it "Encounter". I think it has a lot of potential and could be used in a whole bunch of ways. You encounter Christ at salvation, encounter the Holy Spirit in worship, encounter each other in relationships, encounter the world and help the world encounter Christ. I like it. But anyway, a youth ministry is the last (and only) thing I've ever thought of naming, so it was the only thing that came to mind when I found I had to have a name for this thing right away.

Keep in mind here, this is completely random. I'm sleepy, I'm playing Spider Solitaire, and suddenly I decide to do this. I don't really know why. Maybe it's because I often write in a small black leather book (uh... journal) and nobody ever reads that but me. That is, I hope nobody ever reads that but me. And sometimes, one does desire a slightly bigger audience. So maybe I'll even give the address to a friend or relative or two, and let my thoughts be heard by the masses. Er... you know what I mean.

So who knows? This could be the first entry of many. Or it could be a miserably unsuccessful attempt to be like everybody else. Only, I don't actually want to be like everybody else. I'm simply curious as to why everyone else seems to be doing this. Maybe I'll find it's therapeutic. Or maybe I'll find that it's just like so many other things that aren't all they're cracked up to be (like the majority of movies people tell me I just have to see.) I guess we'll see. Make that "I'll see." There isn't a "we" yet, is there? Not until you're reading this, which I'm sure is long after 10-8-04.

Anyway, thanks, oh ye peers who have pressured me. We'll see if anything good comes of it.