The Crow and the King

“Who made you king?” Crow called up to Hawk.

Hawk peered down at Crow. “I can fly the highest and fastest.”

Crow cackled. “Really? Fly to the farmer’s house and steal his watch.”

Hawk took flight. When he flew out of the fireplace the farmer’s wife hit him with a skillet.

Moral: Pride goes before a fall.

Hello summertime!

There's nothing like spring in Nebraska! However, I'm in Kansas where spring has proved just as amazing. There have been entire days where there is just a steady downpour of rain. For a Nebraska girl from the Sandhills, the fact that one might actually NEED an umbrella is a culture shock. But the grasses are green and blooming, the few cattle I've seen are already chest-deep in luscious green stalks.

Besides the rain and green grass, things have been changing here at Main Place as well!

At the end of May, two of our staff will be leaving this season of their lives for other God-given plans. The program director is heading to San Diego to plant a church there while my roommate is leaving to spend time with her family and prepare for a siblings wedding! I've only been here for a few months, but both of these women will be greatly missed at the house.

Some of our residents are preparing to graduate the program in a few months (PTL!) and it's been such a blessing to see Jesus work in their hearts and lives and bring about understanding. 

Personally, I've been running around the country like it's my job!

The first week of May I spent a few days in Atlanta, GA with some awesome cousins! They showed me the sights, took me out to eat, and were the best Georgia parents a "homeless" child could ask for. More than anything, though, I enjoyed listening to them tell stories of all the adventures they'd had and getting lots of advice about traveling, life, and taking care of aging cats. =) For the first time in my life, I boarded an airplane by myself and worked through all the travel issues on my own! Needless to say, I'll be doing it much more frequently in the future!

Two weeks ago, I watched three of my very dear friends graduate from college! I was at their high school graduations and I was so proud to see them finish their bachelor degrees. Seeing them walk across the stage, then spending the rest of the day laughing, talking and catching up made me so thankful that Jesus kept us all together through the years. I remember crying out to God years ago, that I didn't want to lose friends like these. The cries came from a selfish place but Jesus used those friendships to force me to grow and reach out to Him more and more.

My parents celebrated their 25th wedding anniversary by sorting cattle all day. This was the first year I haven't been home to start putting cattle out to pasture on our little slice of Heaven, in 12 years or so. It was bittersweet knowing that one of my favorite spring activities was happening without me, but "God is good, all the time. And all the time, God is good."

Within the next few months, I'll be doing more traveling! In July I'm planning on taking a road trip with a college friend. In August, my partner in crime cousin, is getting married! My middle sister turns 16 and I'll be 23 this summer. June will be full of VBS', camps, and going to the pool. I'm hoping to start training to run a 10K this fall and I'm always on the hunt for a perfect cup of coffee. And thus sums up the life of a Nebraska expatriate in Kansas. =)

Prayer is often our last resort when issues arise, but God desires communication with us daily and in every circumstance. Prayers for the House this summer: that the girls will meet with Jesus while at camp in June, that they will realize God has plans for them as leaders in their communities as we work at VBS in town, and that each of them will learn that God's love for us has to spill over into loving others, no matter what we believe their circumstances to be. Prayers for the staff: that we will find a Jesus following, people loving, heart-led young woman to join our team of Teaching Parents, that God's strength in us will continue to grow, because our strength will always fail but His is always and forever present, and that we will speak the truth in love to our girls. Prayers for me personally: that I won't get homesick, that I will be present and forthright, and that Kansas doesn't smother my Nebraska roots.

January adventure update

Dearest friends and family,

            How time flies here in Kansas! It’s been three weeks since I've started here at Main Place Youth and January is officially over.

            A quick break down of what I’m doing here: my position is called a Teaching Parent and it’s quite literally being a parent to these girls. Along with myself there are three other Teaching Parents, Ms. Violet, Ms. Valerie, and Ms. Lenae. All of them have been here for at least seven months so they’ve been great at helping me learn the ropes! Each day my job is to make sure the students at Main Place get through their routine, which is much, much harder than it sounds!

            As we go through the day each girl earns points for positive actions like following instructions, appropriate response, accepting “no,” and others. If they do something negative they also earn negative points for that action. The points correspond to levels and the levels have certain privileges associated with them. It seems like a complicated system but it is effective!

            The teaching parents do all of the appointment running, basketball game going, and organizing of Saturday afternoon games and activities. We also have to coordinate on discipline and any requests the girls make. After doing that for a couple of weeks it quickly became evident that it was vital to be united in Christ as leaders! It’s been awesome to pray together before the day starts and learn and grow together through the church here in Kingman.

            The girls are sweet and have shown me a lot of grace as I get started here. There’s definitely a learning curve with each individual girl, feeling out exactly how they will respond to criticism, what their strengths are, and where they stand in their relationship with Christ. As the girls advance levels they are allowed to participate in school activities and sports. Most of the girls are very into music and art so it’s fun to hear them singing as they get ready for the day!

            Kingman is only 45 miles or so from Wichita so on my days off I’ve gone shopping there and checked out the city a little. It’s still far larger than any place I’ve driven on a regular basis so I still hesitate to drive there very often. The city of Kingman has a population of about 3,000 so it’s a little more familiar to drive in!

            There’s so much more that I would love to share with all of you but it’s so hard to type it out in a letter. If you think of it I would really appreciate any prayer you can spare! The first thing you could pray for is that all of the teaching parents here would continue to exhibit Christ through their interactions with the girls. Second, pray for the girls to experience Christ during their time here at Main Place. Third, if you can pray that the girls will have a true heart and lifestyle change while they are here and afterwards, that the change will stick for life.

            Hope and pray that all is well with you! Please write, call, email, or text anytime because I’d love to hear from you all!

In Christ,

Jennifer Connell

1111 N. Main Street

Kingman KS 67068

Jenn.anita.conn2010@gmail.com

The north wind changes everything

My dad tells a story about when he was a young man and went out hunting with his grandpa.
It was a cold and windy day, the arctic north wind a sudden change from the pleasant southern breeze that had been blowing all summer and into the fall. Even down along the river bottom with it's abundance of trees both big and small the wind zipped along, making your cheeks smart. They'd already walked a long way when Grandpa finally spied some turkeys in a clearing. They loaded their guns.
"Don't shoot unless two or more of them have their heads together," Grandpa warned. To dad it seemed like an impossible suggestion. But sure enough, as soon as two or three turkey heads were all lined up, Grandpa squeezed off a shot. By golly, he brought the birds down alright.
Unfortunately, three birds with one shot still meant three turkeys to clean in the wind and the cold.
I'm sure there's a lesson in there somewhere.
But it has always struck me that more important than the stalking, more pressing than the need for meat, out of a hunt whether for turkey, antelope, deer or bears, was the need to glean a good story.
My own deer hunting story is really one of pure luck.
It was Saturday night of closing weekend and I was heading back to college the next day (shameless plug for Wayne State College) so this was my last chance to get the big buck I'd been salivating over for a week straight while I languished in the intellectual cage known as higher education. I've always been a kid after my dad's own heart and I shared a love of hunting, though not of early morning hunting, with the guy who gave me his name.
I was nervous. Not because I might have to shoot something but because I might not kill it with a shot. I was wracked by the idea that we might have to finish off the poor booger at close range. If there was a time to make a clean shot just like we'd practiced, this was it.
We took off around 4:00 with sunset just over an hour away. The best place to find deer is along the river so over the bridge and around the bend to Grandma Jamison's house we went.
"Keep your eyes open for some deer." I quickly went to scanning the trees and hay meadows as we trundled past in the big green pickup. Nothing moved.
We topped the hill on the east side of our ground. That's when we spotted him. Across the hay meadow and standing broadside on a hill was a buck of good shooting size. I won't lie and say he was the biggest buck I've ever seen but I will say my dad shows everybody with any interest in hunting the rack from my first deer.
Anyway. We got out of the pickup, crunching as quietly as we could across the vaguely scattered snow left from a freak storm a few weeks back. The buck didn't even raise his head.
Strategically placed, because we strategically place things instead of losing them or forgetting them at our ranch, on the field was a half of an alfalfa bale. A perfect place to brace up and take aim at the old buck.
I sighted him up. Dad asked if I was ready to shoot. All I remember thinking was: if I wasn't ready now, I didn't think I'd ever be.
I squeezed off a shot. The reverberations bounced off the trees and came ringing back in waves. The bucks head came up, he ran forward a few paces, the does with him scenting the air and skittering away. He limped on three legs.
Dad squeezed off a shot beside me.
I'd like to tell you that the buck went down after that or ran away without a scratch.
He didn't.
He kept standing so I squeezed off another shot.
Nothing.
Dad gave it one more go and the first big buck I'd ever shot dropped to the ground.
All said, we hung up the deer about sunset, one of the shortest hunting campaigns I've ever heard of. But it made a good story and when you go hunting. that's really the prize you come home with. That, and the sting of a north wind on your cheeks.

Playing the game

I've attended a lot of sporting events in my life. Basketball and volleyball games consumed the majority of my sports time but for a short spell, my mom (bless her soul), got us interested in soccer (futbol).
Now at the time I didn't have much appreciation for the game, let's face it, I was twelve. And on top of that, I was from the Midwest, specifically Nebraska.
Nebraskans are die-hard American football fans. We even built our stadium so that it alone dominates the Lincoln skyline. Little boys dream of one day playing for the Huskers. Every man, woman, and child owns some piece of Husker memorabilia while each fall thousands of fans make the pilgrimage from their homes to THE Homeland: Memorial Stadium.
So when the World Cup came around I expected a handful of fans to be interested in the game because that was about the number of fans that turned out for the games when I was 12.
What I found was that futbol is becoming popular in the Midwest. And I was behind on the times.
The sports bar in Lincoln, complete with Husker jerseys, pictures, and logos on all the tables, was packed with U.S. fans. In fact, I was informed, Lincoln was the starting point for a group of fans known as the American Outlaws which now spans the country cheering on U.S. futbol. Each tense moment in the U.S. v. Belgium game was met with cheers, jeers, and sighs. The tension was nearly as thick as a Husker game as blasphemous as that sounds.
In this city where American football is the epitome of Nebraska-ness, fans of every size and shape gathered to cheer on a team playing a sport popular the world over. The Midwest has caught futbol fever and I don't think it's going away.
Nebraska is changing, slowly but surely, and this change in sports taste reflects that. Whether it's in the big stadiums of Europe of the backyard games we played after VBS futbol is a popular sport.

You think I would learn

You'd honestly think that I would learn.
September is not traditionally a frigid month in Nebraska. It's a time of changing seasons: the cottonwoods, old creaking, giant trees, begin to change their leaves the bright green waving pieces turning brown and yellow before falling to the ground. The sea of green that was prevalent the entire summer suddenly becomes dotted with bright red bloodspots as the sumac plants shed their normally muted green leaves for the bright red suit of autumn. The air chills but not by much; every other day is still a good hay day or at least that's what my dad says.
Which is why, when the temperature suddenly dropped in the first few weeks of September, I refused to believe it.
Dad and I had been going out to the calving pasture every morning for the past few weeks to tag calves and run out pairs. This particular morning, I watched my dad dig out his winter coveralls, put on two layers of coats and his heavy boots. My dad usually digs out his coveralls as soon as the temp gauge hits 60 degrees. I usually don't dig mine out until much later. In fact, we tease him that he's just silly for wanting to put on his coveralls in the middle of summer.
So while the morning looked like another summer day, the gauge in the window said differently: a measly 36 degrees to start out the morning, and cloudy to boot.
Dad shrugged into his layers upon layers of clothes and I just put on a heavy coat, sweatshirt and my ball cap, chalking the coveralls up to my dad's overdeveloped sense of cold. I didn't bother to look at the temperature in the window myself.
You'd honestly think I would learn.
The clouds hung low and ominous over the green Nebraska prairie as a fine mist dripped onto everything. Beads hung on the tall grasses, Trees collected raindrops like fine diamonds, holding them on thin leaves until they grew too numerous for them to keep to themselves and they spilled from the sky in a shower of sparkles onto the gray earth below.
As soon as we pulled the four-wheelers out of the shop I knew I'd made a terrible mistake. The slight northern breeze felt like a hurricane force gale when combined with the self-created wind of the four-wheeler. I could already feel the sharp singing of the windburn begin on my cheeks. The thin summer gloves I'd decided would be enough for my fingers let every needle-like finger of wind through, numbing my hands until I couldn't feel my thumb anymore. But my pride, the same pride that made me ride on the sled behind the tractor during a winter storm without ever admitting to my dad how cold I was, kept me from running back to the house for more clothes.
I glanced at my dad from beneath the layers of hoods that I, thankfully, had conceded to wear. He looked cozy in his coveralls.
You'd honestly think I would learn.
We sorted off one pair. I watched, shivering as my dad searched through the dozens of little red tags in his pocket for the correct one. With a sinking heart, I watched him put ALL of the tags back in his pocket, look up, and say, "I'll have to run back and make one."
So there I sat, shivering in my Carhartt coat, one sweatshirt and summer gloves, holding myself as close to the warm four-wheeler as I could, cursing my stupidity only to have the words snatched away by that bone-chilling northern wind.
I tried to convince myself that it wasn't that bad. But mind over matter doesn't work on that north wind; it blows and howls without a care for anyone that stands in it's way, no matter how many blustery words they blow back at it.
If only I'd taken my dad at his word and put on my coveralls. After so many years he knows when it's cold out, really cold, coveralls cold.
You'd honestly think I would learn.

An ode to summer

If you rearrange the letters in SUMMER you get the word freedom.
Okay, so maybe not so much the exact word freedom but you get the sense. No school, no schedule, no snow, no boots just bare feet, pools and hayfields.
Summer in Nebraska means cool, humid dawns that rapidly dissolve into hot, muggy mornings which then transition into hay weather by early afternoon: hot and dry with a little breeze blowing in from the south. Clouds often build from wispy, thin strips on the western horizon into monstrous thunderheads by the time the sun sets. They rumble, deep, throaty voices making the whole plains shake. Time seems to stand still in those moments as the inhabitants of the summer plains wait to see if blessed rain will pour from the sky or if a sharp crack of lighting will steal the hard work of their hands from them in a flash of fire.
Freedom is playing with kittens all morning in the cool shadows of the house then clambering into the pool when the afternoon with it's oppressive heat comes sneaking along. It's spending so much time swimming that little red heads fade to blonde and freckles become more prominent.
Every day is spent gathering in the summer grass so that a little piece of the warmth can be unfurled when winter finally does come. A long arduous process that can seem monotonous becomes an adventure as the first few fawns of summer peep their heads above the long prairie grass and turkey nests come alive with baby chicks as the tractor roars close to their home. The sweet smell of mowed grass mingles in the air with the heavy fragrance of the wild plum bushes as they bloom in the humid summer evenings.
It's the first few sips of sun tea when the heat of the day is still lingering in the jar. It's the feel of laundry right off the clothesline, crisp and warm from time in the sun. It's racing back while chasing cattle as a storm closes in from the west. It's going to summer camp, having friends over, and celebrating birthdays. It's target practice and fair time. It's vacation Bible school and the croaking of frogs in the dam below the house.
Summer is freedom. hayfields, swimming, and thunderstorms.
The season is short and you have to savor every single moment, saving it to remember when the snows blow in and the temperature drops below zero.
Those sweet, free days of summer never last long. School starts too soon and before long those simple days of kittens and pools are just a happy memory.
Until next summer.

The end of a never ending road

The long road home

It's one pale stretch of gray pavement that mars the otherwise flowing green hills of northern Nebraska. Marching in a straight line from north to south, the road is the conduit through which the small trickle of travelers hurry through the most beautiful part of Nebraska on their way to somewhere "more important."
It runs from river to river, with only a hill or two to break the monotony. But the distance is short and the road is simply the most convenient way to connect two points rather than a grand display of the benefits of American infrastructure.
The road seemingly stops just beyond that last rise. It crests the valley hill then simply disappears. That's where the world ends.
Sure, there are towns that exist beyond the edge of the river but they are inconsequential. The road, for that matter, is of little consequence as well. While hours may go by without a vehicle traversing the gray expanse, the fields and gravel roads, invisible from the highway teem with life. Cattle wander from pasture corner to pasture corner, grazing slowly on the tall blades of summer grass. Mowers hum and buzz as they make sweep after sweep around fields slicing down the grass to dry before a rake sweeps it up to be baled, a little piece of summer that will be served during the long cold winter that inevitably follows the summer warmth. Children play and laugh in makeshift pools and creeks,the tumbling, rushing water cutting valleys into the prairie floor. All this activity happens in the byways and hedges along that solitary stretch of road far from the rush of traffic that plagues other parts of the state. Life happens away from the road, houses are built miles from the highway with dusty country lanes creating spidery maps over the fields.
Most locals' commute takes them out onto the road; mothers in their vans and suburbans cautiously making their way onto the highway to take their young children to the little schoolhouse, fathers in big pickup trucks lumbering away to tend to the cattle, teens zipping past on their way out of the hollow to the high school far from the straight road. But the road never rushes like the interstate, with cars ebbing and flowing over it like the river over rocks.
The road, a straight arrow to the heart of the heartland, leads the wandering children back again to the world from the abyss beyond the river. Just to follow that lonely, empty road will eventually bring the wanderer home.

A Mother's Day gift (sort of)

This store was the last stop of the day.
Ashley jumped down from the pickup, landing on the cement with a click of boot heels. She slammed the pickup door shut. It was humid and hot outside. If her hair hadn't been in a ponytail it would have been a floofy mess. There were thunderheads massing in the west. No wonder it was humid out.
She turned and followed Dad into the store. Being around so many people always made her nervous but at least going to town with Dad was more of an adventure than with Mom. Her mother made her talk to people and tried to get Ashley to talk back. Dad just joked and didn't usually expect a reply. Ashley enjoyed that.
Dad got a shopping cart. He usually bought more stuff than he needed. Mom called it junk. Dad called it necessary. Ashley just carried things.
"Suppose they still have chickens?" Dad leaned over and whispered at Ashley. Well, it wasn't really a whisper but he didn't say the words out loud either. Neither of them said the words out loud. It had been at least five years since they'd gotten any chickens at their house.
The discussion had been raging for years between Ashley, Mom and Dad.
Ashley wanted a bunch of hens so she could get eggs.
Mom liked the idea but insisted they build a chicken coop first.
Dad just bought things.
She shrugged at Dad's question but smiled when she saw the glint in his eyes and the little grin he wore. The grin made the scar on his upper lip stand out. Her older sister said that some people thought her dad was intimidating; Ashley didn't think so.
They started to make their way around the store. Dad hefted a bag of horse feed into the cart. Ashley set a new brush for her goats on top. They picked out a couple bags of bolts and Dad looked at the stores selection of gloves.
Then they hit the tanks.
Desperate cheeping and peeping echoed out of the oblong metal tanks. Four little tanks were set in a neat row, topped with a heat lamp. Two men were standing nearby talking. One was wearing the green vest that showed he was an employee of the store.
When the employee saw Ashley and Dad he straightened up.
"Well, hello! Looking to purchase some chickens? These feller's here are only a quarter a piece." He smiled at them and Ashley thought he looked a little sinister. Everybody who made a living selling stuff looked a little suspect to her.
Dad was grinning now. He clapped Ashley on the shoulder. She started to smile a little too but crossed her arms and didn't let the smile get to big.
"We weren't planning on it but that's quite a deal."
Both of the men were nodding now. Ashley felt butterflies come up in her stomach. Goats, a dog, and now it looked like she might get chickens after all. She didn't let it show though. Better to remain impassive; when you get too excited about things, she reasoned, you always got disappointed.
"Are they laying hens?" There it was. The question that the purchase hinged on. Ashley felt nervous.
The employee shook his head.
"Nah, they're roasting roosters." The men laughed at the joke.
Well, there goes that plan Ashley thought. Dad looked over at her again and stuck his hands in his pocket.
"What do you think Mom would say if we brought her some chickens for Mother's day?"
Ashley had forgotten that Mother's day was tomorrow. It was an extremely convenient excuse. She felt a little bubble of laughter come bubbling up. Ashley just shrugged but her smile got a little bit bigger. It was silly but she liked plotting with her Dad.
"There's twenty of them here. Just a quarter a piece."
Dad looked at Ashley again.

And this is how the story ends: dinner

"We'd have to butcher them in a couple of months."
Ashley peered into the tank. They were older chicks so they weren't as cute as the little fuzzy ones. It was much easier to consider butchering them when they looked so gangly.
"Okay." It was just one word but that was all it took to put Dad into motion.
"We'll take 'em!"
The employee grinned and went to get a box. Ashley found she couldn't stop smiling. Mom was going to get the best Mother's day present ever. And Ashley was going to have fun this summer.
When Mom saw what was in her Mother's day present she vowed to never let Ashley and Dad go to town alone again. They just grinned and set about building a suitable shelter.

Youngest sibling syndrome

It was hot.
Too hot to be outside but she was out there anyway. Both her sisters were in the hayfield so Sam just sat on the step, her head in her hands.
Hot and boring.
At least at camp last week she'd had lots of other little friends to play games with. Now there was no one to play anything with. Mom was busy working in her workshop. Dad was out with the sisters. Even the dog was boring; he just laid in the shade of the doghouse his pink tongue lolling in the June heat.
Maybe they could fill the pool.
The idea gave Sam hope. She jumped up and ran into the garage where Mom was working. The saw was running, the buzzing blade filling the shop with so much noise that she slowed down and put her hands over her ears to block it out. Mom was deaf to anything else so Sam just stood and watched.
When the saw stopped, Mom smiled at her. "What's up buckwheat?"
Sam took two giants steps closer trying to think of a good argument for mom to go get the pool. Absentmindedly she stood on one leg and scratched a bug bite with her toe, the pose reminiscent of a crane standing in water. Bubbles the cat, scratched herself on Sam's leg while she was standing still. The cat meowed piteously.
It gave Sam an idea.
"Never mind!" She turned and scooped up the cat, grinning brightly. There was always something to do even on a hot Nebraska afternoon. Sam tromped out the door back into the sunshine.
Her captive struggled as they went from the cool shade of the garage into the muggy sunshine. Sam held on.
"We're gonna play hide-and-go-seek Bubbles." She set the cat down on the cement but kept petting her to keep Bubbles content. The dog raised its head watching the pair. "Now, I'll count and you go hide." This was the best idea Sam had had all afternoon.
She covered her eyes with her arm and began to count. "1, 2, 3, 4, 5..." All the way to fifty. "Ready or not, here I come!" With a flourish she opened her eyes. Bubbles the cat, looked up at her from her spot on the cement and meowed.
"No Bubbles!" Sam stamped her foot and growled. "Ugh you're supposed to go hide." She sighed. "Fine, you count and I'll hide." Scooping up the cat she marched over and deposited her on the step. "Count to fifty Bubbles." Then Sam ran away to find a hiding place.
Luckily, Dad's pickup was parked outside of the garage. She jumped in the back and waited. And waited, and waited and waited. Sam began to wonder if Bubbles had forgotten about her.
She poked her head up and looked around. Bubbles wasn't on the step anymore. "Where's--" But before she could finish the question the cat jumped up on the edge of the pickup meowing at Sam. "You found me Bubbles!" Sam crawled down and covered her eyes. "Now you hide."
As she counted, Sam wondered if the goats would be better hide-and-go-seek players. Maybe that was what she would try next. She reached fifty and opened her eyes. Bubbles was strolling lazily toward the cat house not even trying to hide herself. Sam sighed, got her boots and went down to see if the goats would be better at games.
There was a chance she could teach them to play Tag. "Come on Bear!" The dog jumped up from his shady spot to race after the little girl. Even if the cats or goats couldn't play games like her friends at camp, Sam knew one game they were good at: Pretend. And in the end, that was the best game of all.
"Bear, quick! Get in the ship, this ocean is full of snakes!" She jumped in the rickety old wagon and it became a great pirate ship the rolling hills of grass and sand becoming the ocean she had never seen. The dog followed her, Sam's faithful second-in-command. "Let's go find buried treasure." Bear barked once in agreement his pink tongue lolling in the hot June sun.
It was still hot as the sun began to sink in the west but the day was no longer boring.

The everyday adventure begins

One interstate runs through the bottom third of the state of Nebraska. It links Omaha, Lincoln, Grand Island, Kearney, and North Platte as well as dozens of smaller towns along the way. For most people, this is the only glimpse of Nebraska life they'll ever see: the miles and miles of unbroken pavement that zips by at 75 mph.
But if you ever want an adventure, exit at Grand Island, drive north for three hours, watch the landscape shift from farmland and little towns to prairie where you can see for miles. Take a left then a right and before you know it you'll end up in the heart of the heartland. This is the place where one-room schoolhouses still exist and the closest neighbors are five miles away (as the crow flies). This is the place where fields of sunflowers grow wild, cattle outnumber people 5 to 1, meadowlarks and coyotes sing side-by-side, and change comes slowly but life is an everyday type of adventure.
That is home.
I'm the fifth or sixth generation to live on the same plot of ground that was homesteaded all those glorious years ago. And even though the years have passed, not much has changed. Winter is full of chores, hardship, and snow. Summer is full of freedom, dust, sweat, and sunsets that tug at a persons heart and make you wonder how God could ever paint anything so beautiful. Fall is full of apples right off the tree, garden harvesting, and one lazy afternoon watching the Huskers play football before going back to work. Spring is full of hope, rain, and tender green grass that just begs for a nap in the shade of a tree with the river singing in the background. But while the basic template of rural Nebraska life has remained the same, everyday is a different adventure just waiting to happen.
With my cast of characters who are more apt to improvise their lines than stick to the corporate script and a pristine wild setting I want to leave the city lights behind. I want to show you what Nebraska is really all about: diligence, perseverance, patience, joy, dirt, sweat, grass, fresh air, neighbors, cattle, and freedom.
This, finding the everyday adventure, is Nebraska.

Un-ordinary life of a camp counselor

Everybody's got somebody that cares.
For one week during the summer I get the privilege to care for God's kids, as the Creator's child.
Make sense?
There are a lot of little things but the point is this: it's an adventure.  Sometimes it's more of an adventure than going overseas for a week-long missions trip.  As camp counselors, we get the honor of sharing the Gospel with kids from all different backgrounds. It's pretty cool.
Don't get me wrong! I'm  a huge proponent of week-long missions trips but there is often a language barrier, time constraints, and the added distraction of being far from home.
No, camp doesn't completely eliminate distractions.
When God compels a heart to serve at a camp it's an experience that isn't easily forgotten.  God has a funny way of bringing just the right people to camp and puts them to the test every day.
Sometimes, to really learn, you have to teach.

~:~But you O Lord, reign forever; your throne endures to all generations~:~

Looking back, but only for a moment

So our conversation turned to weird haircuts we had as a child today at lunch.
Odd, yet not entirely unexpected.
Let's be honest: there's all some aspect  of our lives that we would just rather leave in mom's dusty old photo albums buried in the bottom of the closet.
But those memories seem to surface anyway.
Which got me thinking about the past.
In C.S. Lewis' book "The Screwtape Letters", 'affectionate uncle Screwtape' informs his nephew that "the Present is the point at which time touches eternity.  Of the present moment, and of it only, humans have an experience analogous to the experience which our Enemy has of reality as a whole; in it alone freedom and actuality are offered them."
That's intense.
We almost exclusively spend our entire lives getting ready for the mysterious 'future'.  Before school starts your parents are teaching you little bits of math, science, and English.  You get to grade school and you spend all your time getting ready for junior high.  Junior high preps you for high school and high school for college.  College makes you pay to prep you for the 'future' which by this point, becomes this unattainable goal that is spoken of in whispers in philosophy classes.
And this guy Lewis tells us that "The present is the point at which time touches eternity."
What up.
In John chapter 14, verses 18-20 Jesus says, "I will not leave you as orphans, I will come to you.  Yet a little while and the world will see me no more, but you will see me.  Because I live, you also will live.  In that day you will know that I am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you."
While we do look forward to Christ's return, my focus has to be on how he's here at this moment in my life and I HAVE to trust him with my life.

So I'll take a stroll down memory lane, but only for a moment. =)

How I hate growing older

Let's be honest: nobody likes getting older and getting more responsibility.
You get a job, earn money, spend money, and repeat.
It's a vicious circle that no one has ever escaped from.
Blech!
Friendships become that much more complicated.  You "have" to add relationships into the mix and college is a whole different ball of yarn!
How many of these things are gifts, given by the Creator and how many do I demand as my right?
We talk about in all of our Christian circles about how "once you find Christ you stop searching" or "Jesus met my searching heart".  That's all fine and dandy but don't we continue to search?  I know I have.
But what am I searching for?
That perfect job.  My "best" friend.  Mr. Right. Recognition that I'm something special when I'm not.
It says in 1 Corinthians 2:16-17 "Do you not know that you are God's temple and that God's Spirit dwells in you? If anyone destroys God's temple, God will destroy him.  For God's temple is holy, and you are that temple."
Wow.

[insert clever title here]

Its rainy today and it's made me feel like I should be doing absolutely nothing.  Like I'm just waiting for something big to happen, like the snow coming.  Sometimes I feel like I have rainy days in my faith where I get tired of waiting and so I curl up and do nothing.  I don't talk to people and I don't even wear a smile on my face that says 'Hey, I'm a Christian!', I just sit and do nothing. 
Enter into the picture my desire to go to the missions field.  I really want to go NOW, in other words, I'm tired of waiting.  My rainy day has come and its come to stay and for a while I gave up and decided not to do anything.  But my plans are changing and I'm going to "worship in the waiting" and continue to give God glory even though its rainy and cold and I'm waiting for something big to happen.  I can be doing things now to further the kingdom and I may learn more than I'd ever dreamed and God will continue to bless me even while I wait on a rainy day.

Dear Gloomy Rainy Horribly Nasty Cold Arctic Windy Day,
Bring it on.
Love Jennifer

Where you are...

So at Praise and Worship we sang the lines "I wanna be with you where you are, I wanna be with you where you are Jesus."  And for a moment I felt really, Really, REALLY homesick!  I felt like I was in the farthest possible place from where my Savior was, physically.  I felt like I had told myself enough times that Christ was only at camp, or only at home that I truly believed that.  Then I looked around and realized something; Christ is always with me.  Always.  And no matter where I am he's going to be there, it all depends on whether I actually take the time to be with Him that really matters.  After realizing that, I didn't feel nearly so homesick! =) Because no matter where I go, I'm always home and I'll always have brothers and sisters and mothers and fathers, my family in Christ, all around the globe!

~Let no debt remain outstanding, except the continuing debt to love one another, for he who loves his fellowman has fulfilled the law.~ Romans 13:8

Spectator sports...

"Life's not a spectator sport"  Again Disney movies come to the rescue!  This time its from the Hunchback of Notre Dame and also from a speaker we had in chapel today.  He talked about how we can sit in dorms and kitchens and classrooms and have deep theological discussions but what good does it do if we don't ever take our own advice!  If we never put into practice the ideas and thoughts that rush around in our deep discussions what good are they doing?  Faith isn't about feeling safe, a lot of times its about that heart-thumping feeling right before you jump, before you take a chance.  We can't fix the world in a day and its not US thats fixing the world, its God working through us and our willing hearts, our desire to learn, and to be led by Christ.
Let's get in the game!!

~By faith Abraham, when called to go to a place he would later receive as his inheiritance obeyed and went even though he did not know where he was going~ Hebrews 11:8

hakuna matata! ;)

This is my favorite philosophy of all time! It means no worries!!  For a long time I thought that this translated into "no responsiblities" but the more I think about it the more I get a different message.  This message is more like, "Have faith and you'll still have responsibility but Hakuna Matata!"  Christ has shouldered all of our burdens and worries so we can live fully by the motto Hakuna Matata! = )  Good-bye fancy clothes and diamond rings!!  So long super nice car! ~Therefore I tell you not to worry about what you will eat or drink or what you will wear.  Is not life more important that food and the body more important than clothes!~ Matthew 6:24-25  Hakuna Matata!  No worries!!

~And who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?~ Matthew 6:27

Doubt.

I've never really openly struggled with doubt.  At least not in a major way.  Sure I doubted, internally, that I could be good at what I do during the summer.  But God took care of that.  Then I doubted that I was good enough to be a part of the OID when that was what I really, Really, REALLY wanted to be a part of.  But God took care of that.  I also doubted whether anyone would ever love me, in a real way (besides my parents of course!).  But God took care of that.  I doubted that I could ever be a leader in any way, shape or form.  But God took care of that.  Then came Mexicali; this was a really big doubt!  How could I, this Midwestern girl, go to a city where I didn't speak the language and still be able to communicate what Christ had done for me?  Words were my biggest ally!  I didn't think there was anything else.  But God took care of that.  He didn't miraculously give me the gift of tongues but he gave me love; the same love that He lavished on me when He sent his Son, he put into my heart to love the kids in Mexico.
(Hmmm....strangely enough there seems to be a pattern here!)

So now I come to something that I have been thinking and praying about for quite a while; full-time missions work.  From Mexicali, I found that I definitely have a huge heart for all kids but especially for the kids in Mexico!!  So being the bright student that I am I decided to do a little research!  I was doing research for a project for a class and stumbled onto some pictures and stories from Mexico.  I'll look into these, I thought to myself.  BaD idea!!  Of course the only thing newsworthy coming from Mexico is the incessant drug wars and the only pictures they have are of the destruction a few people have caused.  The more I read and the more I looked at the pictures, the bigger and bigger my doubt became.  It came to a point that all I really thought I could do was go home and lock my door!! 

But then I started thinking about my doubt and then my desire to serve Christ; the desire began to outweigh the doubt more than I could possibly imagine!!! I could sit back and hear God telling me "I've got your back and I'll give you the words to speak and the actions.  All I want is your willing heart!  Are you willing to let me use you?"  "Yes Lord" I answered.  Although my heart was willing, my doubts were still shadows around my heart.

Later I was listening to the internet radio and someone came on and said "You are far safer out in the world, in places like East Asia, or War-torn Africa, or Latin America doing God's will, then you will ever be at home outside of God's will"  It spoke volumes to me!  Even if I went and did nothing more than make one child's day happier for an hour, I will have done it serving the Lord and I will be a light to his world.  Even if I never get to go outside of the U.S. and all I pursue is this ministry, Street Corner Dance Crew, I will serve the Lord.

So my doubts have fled and my heart is willing Lord!!  Send me where you will and I will serve you with all my Midwestern heart <3

~For if we live we live to the Lord, and if we die, we die to the Lord.  So then, whether we live or die we are the Lord's~ Romans 14:8