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Josiah had his high school Christmas concert this week: choir, band, orchestra. It was really good. A neighboring school (I use neighboring here very loosely) permitted FCS to use their auditorium. The school is located in the midst of the farm fields and as I was driving in the pouring rain through the darkness, I began to doubt I would find it. It is located on roads that change names and directions periodically just for fun.

I arrived, dropped Josiah off, and waited for Dale and the other kids to find us via GPS. When they arrived, they could not recall their route. It’s just one of those locations you end up at grateful that you are there, without knowing how you got there.

There were several students playing prelude piano pieces, which sadly no one was listening to because I suspect people thought the students were practicing. There was one girl playing what looked to be a very difficult piece that unfortunately no one heard.

The crowd quieted after the welcome and I had great sympathy for the moms who were attempting to keep babies and toddlers quiet. It’s a bit easier with a five year old, although the kid loves to chat. However, I remember quite clearly those days of “Please…just be quiet for five minutes, so I can hear your sister sing.”

I am not an artistic person, so I always greatly enjoy watching the choir director, orchestra leader, and band director when they are full on. Their conducting is filled with such emotion, it is almost like a dance in itself. The band director was in tails and the choir and orchestra director were in formals gowns. I get great enjoyment out of watching them work.

The choir sounded fabulous and I was shocked. I had heard them perform at an earlier event in the gym and they were good, but it is amazing what good acoustics can accomplish. They all sang clear and strong and all the parts could be heard.

Josiah accompanied them on I Need a Silent Night. (Christian radio stations play this song) After listening to Josiah talk about the struggles of pulling this piece together, I was amazed to hear how terrific it came out when they performed it.

Josiah also played the David Lanz version of God Rest Ye Merry Gentleman for an interlude between the band and choir. It was the first time he had performed on a grand piano. Wow! I have heard him play the song many times. What a difference a grand piano makes. He sounded like a recording.

When the programs were printed, Josiah’s name was accidentally left off. Because of this, after Josiah finished the Lanz piece, the band director introduced him. The crowd applauded and one of Josiah’s friends in the band gave him a thumbs up. In return, Josiah gave his friend a thumbs up. The crowd thought Josiah was giving them a thumbs up for the applause and they laughed.

I liked the band’s Deck the Halls with Chips and Salsa, but my favorite piece of the night was the Orchestra version of  Carol of the Bells. It must be great fun to play that on violin.

The night ended with choir, band, and orchestra combined on the Hallelujah Chorus. They kept it together and sounded quite good. I’ve been thinking, with Josiah on piano, Abby on flute, and Gabe on trumpet, maybe I can find a little violin somewhere and get Zeke started.

Last week was filled with art and music events at the school.  On Wednesday, Josiah and Abby played for their middle school band concert.  Josiah plays the baritone and Abby plays the flute.  They both started band 4 months ago and have improved greatly since.  Dale was able to hear the band play at chapel when he was home for R&R.  In fact the blog picture shows them wearing their band uniforms of white shirts and blue ties.  The band played Turkish March, March Militaire, Rock Island Express, and Jump Street Boogie.  For Jump Street Boogie, they donned gold satin vests, black shiny hats, and sunglasses.  I found it quite amusing.  I am now going to have them play Rock Island Express for halftime of Bears games to fire up the crowd.  The crowd, of course, is Zeke and I and the “Defense Defense” chant.  On Friday, I attended the Art Show with Abby and Gabe.  Gabe won a third place ribbon for 2nd grade with his colored paper flower pot and Abby won Honorable Mention for 6th grade with her drawing of an abandoned building.  The High School hosted the Art Show and the work of all the winners K-12 was displayed.  They had live music in each room.  A boy played piano in the main room and two girls played violin in the hallways.  Everyone was dressed up.  Gabe was happy to wear his tie.  Josiah, however, opted to stay home and watch Zeke rather than subject himself to another mandatory tie event.  The level of artwork was impressive.  One student’s scratch off artwork was phenomenal in the detail, some of the paintings were lovely, and the robot created out of junk was clever.  They served hors d’oeuvres and a lovely red punch.  Gabe in his crisp, clean white shirt wanted very much to have a glass of that tasty punch, but he was denied by his unfeeling Mother.

This morning while reading the Bible, I came across a Psalm that sounds like something a mother would say to her kids. The translation is The Message, and the passage is Psalm 15:2-5a:

Walk straight, act right, tell the truth.

Don’t hurt your friend, don’t blame your neighbor, despise the despicable.

Keep your word even when it costs you, make an honest living, never take a bribe.

It’s hard to find better, more succinct advice than that!

I went on a site visit inside the city of Mosul this morning. There is a curfew in effect throughout the whole Ninewa Province due to an ongoing Iraqi Army operation. This offensive has been reported in most major news media. Because of this, the streets were particularly empty as we drove to the different sites today. All three of the sites we visited are sewer/storm drain projects. Below is a picture from the Al Jasaeer project site. The contractor installed a new storm water sewer system on the right hand side of the road where the new manhole and pavement is visible. Before this, there were no storm drains in this area, just like in Phoenix!

As we were returning from our mission today, I noticed an interesting tattoo on one of the team members. Instead of wearing a wedding band, he has a tattoo on his ring finger. It’s hard to read in the picture, but it says Chrissy.

Happy Mother’s Day from Mosul.

When spring arrives the innate urge to plant something in the ground can be overwhelming for a gardener. The back left corner of my yard seems a perfect spot for my vegetable garden. Last fall, with Dale gone and my focus of painting and organizing the house, I knew it was not wise to prepare a bed for spring planting. If I wait for Dale to return, he can help me and if I do it correctly, my garden will be more fruitful next spring. But this spring is here and I am truly my Mother’s daughter in planting without preparation. My Mother had a terrific garden in Minnesota, but it was a hodgepodge that lacked a cohesive plan. She would buy a plant or be given a plant and say, “I have to plant it somewhere” and so she would. Because of her house renovation this winter, her new garage is now where her garden was and her plants have been dug out and scattered amongst friends and neighbors. She gets to start her garden anew and has asked a friend to help her with the plan. I know if my husband returns for his two week break to find me with a rototiller, he will be a bit irritated. I have told him that he does not have a to do list and that he may sleep for the entire two weeks. So, I must accept the fact that a rototiller is detrimental to our marriage. I have decided to instead focus on the existing flower beds. I have planted various things at most of the houses I have lived in and have hated only one garden. Our house in Australia was a professionally landscaped garden that was drought tolerant. It was full of spiky things and spiders and overrun with weeds that I would battle all summer long. I loved only the camellias that bloomed when it was cool. After I moved into this house, I asked the previous owner to walk the garden with me and tell me what was planted where. My Mother followed along with a piece of paper making a rough sketch. The previous owner has planted many trees, shrubs, plants and bulbs. I have planted many of these same plants in various places we have lived, but never saw them mature. I really feel it is a gift that I am able to enjoy the 28 years of care that he put into this garden. I know I need to make an accurate sketch, track the amount of sun, choose a color palate, amend the soil, coordinate bloom times, research the best place to purchase plants, etc. Yesterday, I went into the home improvement store to buy a pair of loppers to battle the wisteria. “I’ll just look around a minute,” I thought. “Oh, pincushion flower…I love pincushion flower.” Oh well, “I have to plant it somewhere”.

The last two days have been warm and the insects and frogs have started making sounds at dusk. I am praying that Spring is arriving. Last week, while my parents were here, the weather was cold. We had the pellet stove burning every day. Winter did not want to give up it’s hold just yet. As well as the cold last week, we had sickness. Zeke and Abby both got the gastro (as they say in Australia), better known here as the stomach flu. It was a bad one. I slept on a cot in Zeke’s room for a few nights because he had “the throats”, his wording for throwing up. He still periodically informs me, “I’m all done the throats, Mommy.” Throughout their times of sickness, I fought the fears and worries that tried to beset me. “What if I get sick? How can I handle this?…” My worries can just go on and on and on until I work myself into a tizzy. Then, being in a tizzy makes me mad and I begin to rage at the injustice of Army life. “Why did they have to send my husband to Iraq? Why do tours have to be a year or longer? Why won’t this tour ever end?” My rage does me no good. For the Army, Family is far far down the list. Although it is capitalized. In the midst of my worried and angry mood, Zeke came walking down the hallway towards me with a giant tin of marbles and dropped them. Marbles were soon rolling everywhere. I looked at him and said, “You and me Zeke, we’re both losing our marbles.” My friend Martyn calls from Australia to encourage me. My brother, Howie calls and prays with me. Then, all the things that God has been trying to speak to me are once again heard. Peace comes again into my heart. God is faithful to me. Throughout this deployment, God has been faithful to me. I am surrounded by people who have helped me when I’ve needed it and I know would help me again. I tell myself, “think on the good not the bad, be grateful not selfish, love…always hopes.” Spring is full of hope. I see it in the robin looking for worms, the daffodil that has just opened, the yellow stems of the forsythia, the soft buds on the pear tree. “Play some baseball, Mommy?”, Zeke asks. So, out Zeke and I go to pitch and hit and hope for the best part of Spring which will arrive in just over a month.