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.
Today was Gabe’s District Spelling Bee. The school had sent home a notification that the boys should wear ties. It was a bit of a surprise since Josiah was allowed to wear his regular school uniform complete with sweatshirt over it for his Spelling Bee. Josiah has been much relieved that he no longer is required to wear a tie to school. He is not a boy who enjoys getting dressed up. He has a bit of his Father’s fashion sense. Yesterday, he was wearing his blue school pants and blue school shirt and went to put on his belt. He put it on so that the brown side not the black side was facing out. His sister looked at him and suggested he change it to black side out. He was not interested in her opinion. She replied, “I’m just trying to give you some fashion advice.” I can’t wait until her Father returns and starts getting her fashion recommendations as well. My favorite fashion moment with Dale was when he went to buy a suit when we were in Germany. The sales girl convinced him that he looked great in a certain suit, shirt, and tie so he bought it. When he showed it to me, I commented that I was surprised that he was willing to wear a pink shirt. He said, “It’s not pink, it’s tan!” I then was forced to explain to my colorblind husband that he had really bought a pink shirt which was quite stylish at the time, but not exactly in his style. Why the Elementary students needed to be dressed to the nines, I didn’t know. Gabe, who on most occasions is dressed in rags, thanks to his unerring ability to stain, rip , and shred his clothing had gone to school over the last month in pants with a large rip in the knee. Thankfully, his Grandmother arrived last week to patch his school pants. I, however, decided that a large patch on the knee might detract from a nice tie. So, this week I went to purchase Gabe some new clothes. I bought him a new tie, a white shirt, and blue dress pants. Gabe decided that these new clothes warranted new actions. He decided to take a shower when he woke up. Grandma ironed his shirt and pants. Gabe found Josiah’s old black school shoes from Australia and went looking for polish. I didn’t have any in the house, so Grandpa decided to shine them the old fashioned way with ample quantities of spit. Grandpa combed Gabe’s hair and when Gabe was dressed he was looking quite good. Gabe didn’t win the Spelling Bee, but as his Grandma told him, “He was certainly the best looking one there!”
