The Break

My students write a little story called Fortunately. They start out with an event, then something unfortunate happens, then something fortunate happens, then unfortunate, and then fortunate. You get the picture. My favorite part is their imaginative unfortunate events. The craziest things always happen in their stories. Well, Christmas Break was just like their stories, except I didn't make up any of the crazy parts.
Here is my story:
A few days after my break started, I received a phone call from my mom.
Unfortunately, my grandma was sick in the hospital, so I immediately flew home.
Fortunately, she miraculously defied the odds and was able to come home. (Yeah!)
Unfortunately, the day she came home I became sick as a dog (miserable, moaning, awful sick), the basement flooded, and the ceiling began to leak. (My poor mother and father.)
Fortunately, I got better, we got the basement dried, and the leak stopped. (Phew!)
Unfortunately, I then started to break out into unfathomable, horrible hives. (A mystery still.)
Fortunately, they weren't the kind that stop you from breathing, and we had a fabulous Christmas. We even went out for a little run in the middle of the night.
Unfortunately, when we got back, the basement was flooded again. (Insanity!)
Fortunately, you can't keep a good person down.
Unfortunately, sometimes a good person will fall down while cross country skiing and do a little something, something to their ankle. (However, can you see the beautiful snow and sky? It was worth it.)
Fortunately, I gave it a little wrap and a little rest, and it is doing better.
Unfortunately, I had to leave the promised land of the hometown.
Fortunately, I got to visit friends in the Valley (or should I say Phoenix area?) and had a delightful time, they even turned on their air conditioners. (Air conditioning in January?)
Unfortunately, Utah isn't so accommodating and during my flight back it began to snow, and they shut down one of the terminals. We had to wait and wait, and then drive through ice to get home.
Fortunately, we're use to the snow and ice and got home safely.
And that is how the break ended, a little insanity sprinkled throughout, but as all stories should end, happy.

Merry Christmas from the Whole Family

In the blink of an eye, life became crazy, and I didn't get out a single Christmas card. I hope this makes up for the loss, my mother's festive card of the whole fam. That is right, the whole family wishing you a Merry Christmas!

The Door Whisperer: A Spooky Story

This is the true account of my brush with danger a few weeks ago. Read at your own discretion.


I will be the first to admit that I have a very active imagination. I will also be the first to admit you do not want to go with me to a haunted house. ( I tend to push, shove, and throw people into the face of danger.) I must also admit, I don't do very well being alone. However, I really do try to be brave, and I was doing just fine living in apartments. I knew my neighbors, there were always people out and about, and there were so many people together. Unfortunately, as soon as I got home from Africa I moved. (Yeah, it was a little crazy.) Fortunately, I moved to a nice new town home. Unfortunately, they are still building a lot of the town homes, and so that means few occupants, dark, vacant buildings, and a roommate who has been gone for the last four weekends. I of course, did what any person with a vivid imagination would do, I went to my brother's house every weekend. That is, I did until someone told me to suck it up and stay by myself. Unfortunately, I don't do well being thought of as a chicken, and so I decided to be brave and stay home. I devised a little plan to keep myself busy until I was so exhausted I would fall asleep. And so, I paid every bill, wrote in my journal, read my journals, organized my photos, read all of my friends' blogs ( they are all so great) and by about three I fell asleep watching T.V. I woke up a little after four, and I knew I was so tired I would sleep like an angel. I turned off the T.V., picked up my pillow, and walked over to the front door to turn off the lights.

(This is the cue for the scary music.) As I reached for the light, I heard a faint sound outside the door, puzzled I learned in closer and that is when I heard a man whispering. (Yes, it is true) It was at that moment that my heart leapt into my throat, I felt like I was in one of my nightmares. ( You know the kind where you can't move and all you feel is horror.) I however, found I could move, and I did. I leaped up the stairs with my heart pounding. I flipped open my phone, "Who to call, who to call?" In terror, I realized that I didn't have one person in my phone who lived remotely close. And so, I took a deep breath and tried to think more rationally. I knew I had a big imagination and so I wondered, "Was I just imagining the door whisperer?" I crept back down the stairs and went to the door again. Holding my breath, I listened again. . . . . Ahhhhhhhhh. . . . . . I heard the voice again, and this time I heard what he said, "There is no peep hole." All thoughts of being rational left me. Anybody who is talking about a peep hole at four in the morning is not rational. I hurriedly dialed my brother, woke him up, told him to stay on the line while I snuck out the back door into the garage, and hopped into my car. I locked the doors and raced out of the garage. As I drove by the front of the house, there was nobody there. Ahhhhhhhh. . . . . .. I was so spooked I couldn't stop my leg from shaking, which was bad because you have to brake when driving. I drove like mad, and then I got mad and decided to turn around and see if someone was really trying to break in. I am all for justice being served, and I had my phone out ready to call the police. (Nobody scares me like that and gets away with it.) Luckily, nothing appeared to be amiss, and so I drove to my brother's house and fell into bed relieved from worry.

(This is perhaps the anticlimactic part) The next day we all went out to the house and checked everything out. It seemed okay. And since then I haven't heard the door whisperer again. However, I have also not stayed home alone again, nor will I ever in the future. I really don't care if people think I am a chicken, nothing is worth having to be home alone and hear the "Door Whisperer."

Tanzania, Tanzania

Here are a few moments of life in Africa:

-Each morning we awoke to the Ramadan call to prayer and the smell of burning trash. (Which they just piled up by the road and burned each day.) Every night began with the slathering on of deet, the pulling on of long sleeved clothing, and the tunneling into our mosquito net for the night. Each night, as I looked up at the ceiling, I gained more appreciation for that net, knowing it not only kept out the mosquitoes, but the spiders, the beetles, and the lizards.

-Each day as we came out of our gate we would see donkeys, cars, goats, Masai on bikes, and women carrying huge buckets on their heads, all sharing the same road.

-I learned to enjoy porridge every morning and rice and beans every lunch and dinner. (Okay, perhaps at the end of three weeks the word enjoy may be a tad bit generous, it is true I actually dreamed about pizza.)

-I learned to teach without a classroom, and then in a room with no desks, no chalkboard, and no books, to children who spoke only a few English words.

-The last few days, I wiped away happy tears at the sound of those children saying English letter names and sounds, colors, numbers and words.

-I found myself screaming in horror as two, fat, killer lizards fell from the ceiling onto the floor in the middle of class. Forgetting all restraint, I ran from the room. Of course, all the children did likewise and tried to calm me down. Call the animal police, but the other teacher killed them as she exclaimed,"The children play with them. They are their friends. They will not hurt you." Friends or not, I did not feel an ounce of sadness. (Do not feel bad for those lizards, they were awful.)

-I discovered that all those random wet spots all over the playground were actually student made bathroom puddles.

-We explored a Chagga bat filled cave, where Nick decided to take a picture of a sleeping bat. I decided to run for my life after it woke up.

-We marveled at the Masai sand and dung insulated huts with live chickens inside.

-We cringed at the gaping holes in the Masais' ears, which according to the Masai preacher, were first started long ago when their herds were far from home, and they would put the new lambs in those holes to help carry them home. It's true, that's what he said.

-We rode what they call the dala dalas. They are old vans that act like buses for the people, since most don't have their own cars. They are however, crazy. There is always a man hanging out of the door scanning the road for anyone who needs a ride. The use of seats is also optional. People sit on the floor, on your lap, or hoover over your head. The dala dala is never too full for more riders.

-We were able to go to a newly formed L.D.S. branch. In a place so different, it was wonderful to find the same peace.

-We heard testimony in one of the U.N. Rwanda criminal tribunal court cases. (Which are still happening, even though it has been over 14 years ago.) It was fascinating, extremely sad that the genocide ever happened, and hopeful that justice will be served.

-I hummed Lion King music throughout our safari, as we saw amazing animals. They were extremely beautiful, okay, some of them were not, (Have you ever seen a wildebeast?) but all were extremely fascinating. I also have never seen such beautiful sunrises and sunsets in my life.

-I found myself falling asleep in the campground to the lullaby sounds of hyenas, lions, and water buffalo, the campground without any fences or gates. Amazingly, I actually slept.

-I learned that things aren't what make us happy.


-This is how my students would say goodbye every day. They would pray, sing about Jesus, shout about how happy they were, and then sing a goodbye song to their teachers. It makes me ask myself the same question each day, "Are you happy?" Humbly, and gratefully I know I can always say, "Yes!"

AFRICA

I'm finally almost 100% back from Africa. (I got home a little over a week ago, but my body has taken a little longer to get back.) Africa was a million different adjectives: amazing, despairing, fascinating, hard, heartwarming, heartbreaking, beautiful, frightful. . . . . . and the list could go on. I went with a nonprofit organization to teach, learn about the culture, and have some free time to explore. However, when I got down there I was truly overwhelmed by the immense need. It was hard because I knew I could not give back parents to all of the orphans, cure all that were sick, feed all that were hungry or give money to all that were in need. Looking around I felt very small and inadequate, however, I was reminded that I had two things that I could give in abundance to all I came into contact with. The first was knowledge. I am a firm believer that knowledge is power. We taught the children, the teachers, and the community. As a pastor we met said, " If you give me money I will cry and thank you, but I would rather you give me knowledge because after the money is gone, the knowledge will still be there."
The second thing I could give was love. My eyes were never dry as the children would run to grab my hand, sit on my lap, brush my hair, and squeeze in to be held. I spent most recesses with my arms around five or six children that didn't want to let go when recess was done. It was heartbreaking to realize that there are not enough hands to rock, hug, and love these little orphans. If only I could have brought them home.
I have truly been humbled and filled with gratitude. Whenever we told people we were from America their eyes would get big and they would cheer, "Oh America, that is our favorite country." We met many children named after American presidents, who have given great aid to the Tanzanian people. What a great country we come from, we are so blessed. It was however, also amazing to see these people who had nothing were so happy and welcoming. What a wonderful people and beautiful country. I would love to go back.

I of course have some delightfully crazy stories about falling lizards, swooping bats, sneaky pickpockets, and prowling lions that I will have to share next time.

THE FUGITIVE

Last weekend was the big family reunion. Every two years we get together with my only first cousins, and we head out to the mountains for a weekend of good old fashioned family fun. We had a fabulous time doing yoga (can't you tell I'm completely relaxed) swimming, rowing in the boat, eating yummy food, playing badminton, and foosball (I accidentally hit the ball into our own goal three times, Crazily, nobody wanted me on their team for the next game.) The best part of course was being together. This reunion may sound like any other family reunion, except for a slight twist, and that twist was . . . . . the fugitive.

You see the first night as we were enjoying a delicious dinner on the deck, we noticed helicopters circling the mountains. My uncle told us there was a fugitive on the loose. While he wasn't a killer, he was a juvenile delinquent who had escaped from a wilderness program in the mountains. They had planes and dogs combing the area. We were warned to lock up our cars and the cabin. I looked back at the mountain, locked the doors and didn't think too much more about it. That is I didn't until two days later, when my mother told me some people had been by again to warn us about the fugitive. They said he was wearing a blue shirt and had brown hair, "Uh, huh." I said distractedly as I helped whip up a salad. However, not two minutes later, I looked up, and who did I see? That's right, the fugitive. There he was walking down the hall with my dad and uncle. Convinced that I was the only one who knew who he really was, I whispered to my mom, "It's the fugitive." And no sooner had I said that, then my dad came bustling into the kitchen and said, "We need to get this kid some food." I nervously whispered again, "It's the fugitive." My brother looked at me and said, "Yeah we know." Completely baffled, I watched as they led the fugitive to the table, had him sit, and started feeding him our food. Personally, I was thinking more along the lines of grabbing him, tying him up and calling the searchers. (I tend to err on the side of caution.) However, if you know my dad, you know he befriends all, and so they set him at the table with food and listened to the fugitive's story. (I shouldn't have worried so much, it's true all the guys were right by him at the table, and my seventh grade cousin gave me a glance of his pocket knife telling me not to worry, he had it covered.)
This is the story that the fugitive told:
At the camp where he was they would take away the kids' shoes each night, so they wouldn't run away. However, this fugitive still ran. In fact he had been running for 6 days, over 35 miles away from the camp, without any shoes. Crazy! He also had been running without any food but a granola bar, beef and cheese stick. He said they almost got him one time, but he climbed a huge fence and jumped. Then he hid in a little cave, so the planes wouldn't see him. He drank water from a nearby stream and took shade in the Aspen trees. At night he slept up on the ridge, and every night below him he would see all of our cabin lights on. He said, "You guys are the loudest people I know, I could hear you all the way up on the ridge." ( It's true we are a tad loud, and when you get over 20 of us playing a game of werewolf, it sounds a lot like real wolves howling at the moon.) And so after 6 days he lost his adrenaline and decided to come down and turn himself in, and what nicer people to turn himself into then the werewolf howlers. He came and knocked on the door, and asked to use the phone. My dad knowing who he was (I guess I wasn't the only one.) told him a lot of people were looking for him, that we would give him something to eat, and call someone.
Now here is where the story turns into a Hallmark Hall of Fame movie, but I promise it is true. The fugitive called his dad and his dad (who had flown across the country and hired his own private investigator to find his son) came to the cabin to get him. His dad knocked at the door and when he saw his boy he held out his arms. The fugitive nervously asked his dad what was going to happen, and his dad took out a picture of his son from his shirt pocket. (I swear I'm not making this up.) Then he said, "I put this picture of you here by my heart while we were searching for you. I just want to love you right now." And the fugitive went over to his father for a hug. Now I'm sure there will be heck to pay later, but I thought it was a perfect ending to the reunion. The message: Your family is there with arms outstretched to love you, even when you aren't at your best. Now isn't that nice? Hallmark you can come get the story rights from me, because this one is a real winner.

The Big Event

The big event of the summer is finally here, I am officially braceless. I didn't think it would ever happen, but I still rotated my ankle during every kid's report, put on my makeup balancing on one leg, and pushed and pulled during every newscast, and I am overjoyed to say it finally paid off. My doctor even released me yesterday with the ability to jog on the treadmill with no brace. Can you believe it? Jog-no brace. I tore home to put on my running shorts (shorts, I could actually wear shorts) and walked into the gym. Amazingly, there was nobody staring or critiquing my fashion. Can life get any better? I guess so, because today I got to choose from any of my shoes, not just my fatty brace shoes, and I could wear anything I wanted. ( I know, I said I was over the fashion thing, but I must admit I have seen way too many episodes of What Not to Wear to know they will get you at your worst moment.) My students clapped and cheered my success this morning, and my foot is feeling great. Yeah!!!!! And so sadly, this concludes the last of my endless posts about my foot. I'm sure it has been fascinating reading, I know it was all I could think about. No worries though, I still have one more surgery to go. (Don't get too excited though, I am not going to write about it, well, unless it is as fascinating as this last experience.)