Carneys, circus folk...nomads, you know...

...or, why my brain has been too fried to write on the blog in over a month. Brace yourselves, it's a novel.

A number of years ago, I watched one evening as some friends got adjusted to life as new parents in their 2 bedroom apartment. At the time I thought to myself, "Wow, I'm so going to wait until I have my own house to have kids." I can just imagine God watching from his eternal perspective and laaaaaaaaughing when he heard that. Why? Because here I am, 6 1/2 months pregnant, and living in a dorm room at a Bible camp on the other side of the world. Life's funny that way.

Another good friend of mine reckons that her life was quite on track until she became a Christian - then all her carefully crafted plans flew right out the window, and she's gone in a direction she could never have imagined before. Such is the wonder and the terror of surrendering control over your life to a perfect sovereign God, who sees the end beyond the sometimes confusing and dispiriting means.

Sometimes people doubt that God is big or strong enough to carry them through the challenges and closed doors in our lives. This is not my problem. No, I absolutely believe in heart and mind that God has the ability to do whatever he wants, whenever he wants. My problem is getting frustrated knowing that he often asks me to go through a process of learning and growth (L&G, I call it), instead of just giving me what I ask for right away.

Such has been the case in the unexpected and unprecedented realm of housing this time around. In the first 5 years of our marriage, we rented a grand total of three different places. Though having come to New Zealand only 2 1/2 years ago, we will be soon be onto our sixth place of residence - that's twice the houses in half the time! As we ran off to the Eastern Hemisphere partly to escape the domestication of all our friends by mortgages & children, this nomadic lifestyle was only amusing and slightly annoying for the most part.

But then, somewhere along the path to our 30th birthdays, we got old! We went from footloose and fancy-free to yearning for the house and babies we'd avoided for so long. While those things are all very well and good, what do you do with those longings when you're still in the middle of the itinerant existence? Get pregnant anyway, apparently, then search for a more settled place to live. The second part of that equation has never been a problem before - in fact, we once found a house in 13 days on an emergency basis that turned out to be one of the best and most lengthy tenancies we've had!

Naturally, we didn't anticipate any major roadblocks, since it's not like God didn't know we are extra in need of a house on account of the forthcoming extra dependent. But alas, I guess my hormonally-enhanced self was in need of a good L&G experience right now.

We'd been responsibly working on finding the next house since January (a lease takeover from friends), in order to be sorted when we had to leave our old place in early April. All was cruising along until we got back from our South Island trip in March and found out that one of these friends was unwilling to let us into the new house until a month after we lose the old place. A weeks-long, frantic scramble for temporary lodging ensues. Once that was finally sorted, the bottom really fell out when the owners of the new house, who had previously told us they were fine with us taking over the lease (even the week before), decide that actually, too bad for us, they're going to give it to someone else. Cue big, fat, blue funk on both our parts.

Now I know that God is good, but I was definitely a little cheesed at him in this situation. After all, I had been depending on him, and it seemed the situation was divinely appointed: original timing was good, beautiful spacious house, available long term, helping out our friends, etc. And now looking down the barrel of homelessness, I was fully of the attitude that "I don't want to grow my faith, I'll just take the security and blessing now, please!"

*sigh* All right, all right, I'll commence with the growth already.

While we have definitely had to choose to consider it all joy encountering this kind of trial, we've been gifted in other ways to help it not be too burdensome.
1) The great house that we lost is rather out in the sticks, which could have proved difficult at times approaching my due date and as a new mum.
2) The more we heard about the situation, the owners of that house have seemed increasingly high maintenance and demanding - not ideal, even if you're good tenants.
3) Last but not least, I'm not one who would say that I really "hear from God", other than praying and trying to follow his lead. That said, twice now I've had inspiration for people to contact for help when virtually no one else would that I cannot claim credit for on my own; they really just occurred to me out of the blue.
3a)The first was to ask my old boss about the room here at the camp, which has been soooo helpful.
3b)The second was to ask some old landlords from 2 winters ago if their house would be available again this year. Low and behold, it was! After a delightful lunch meeting with them, we finally have somewhere to go and get set up before you-know-who makes an appearance. It's much more accessible, the owners are obviously wonderful, and it's furnished so we can easily sort through and offload some of our things, which we've been wanting to do anyway (amazing how much stuff you can amass, even when playing at "world traveler").

All I can say is, "Fine, Lord, once again you knew what you were doing all along and I was silly to give into fear and doubt." Oh, that and, "HALLELUJAH!"

Thank you to all of you who prayed for us on this, it was a big encouragement - and to Mom P. & Bethany for the steady stream of reminders of their thoughts and support, even when I know they'd much rather have us home :)

P.S. I'd have added some pics for interest, but thought the types of images around which this post revolves (i.e. shots of random houses we've lived in, and us looking shell-shocked), would not really be an enhancement.

Tapas: Spanish for "world's smallest portions"

For those of you who have never heard of them, tapas refers to any small, savory, usually Spanish dish served as a snack or as several varieties together to form a light meal. As I am usually oblivious to all things trendy, I barely registered when this manner of noshing became fashionable a little while ago. Yet last Tuesday when Chad & I were exploring the lovely Southern city of Dunedin, we decided to try some as a classy alternative to our road trip standard of PB&J. As the tapas were fairly cost effective, we ordered three types, intending to put together the aforementioned light meal. What we received was this:

For reference, note that the little serving bowls were 4 in. across at their widest point.

While clearly beautifully presented and crafted from top ingredients, THREE orders of the stuff failed to provide even the caloric intake of ONE regular appetizer. Now, I'm not stuck on loading down my stomach in the middle of the day, but the whole caboodle cost twice as much as most appetizers, and we would have had to roll ourselves to the car on an equivalent value of food from any other restaurant we would normally frequent.

*sigh* I must just be one of the masses when it comes to high fashion and fine dining. Guess I'll have to stick to more lowbrow options like Subway where I belong.

Autumn starts...wait for it...right NOW!

Queenstown, Late February 2009

While watching the weather forecast on March the 1st, the meteorologist remarked,

"You may be worried that the start of Autumn means the golden days are behind us, but we're expecting conditions to stay warm and mild through the end of April."

This statement may not seem odd to you, unless you realize that there is no corresponding astronomical event on March 1st to mark a change of season. That's right, here in New Zealand, the seasons change when we say they do, with no pesky scientific interference from solstices or equinoxes.

Kiwi Summer officially runs from December 1st to February 28th (or 29th in a leap year, of course), simply because those are the months that encompass Christmas and the school holidays. Funnily enough, the weather through to the end of March when the equinox occurs is usually more warm and pleasant than it is in December - but March 21st is so much less tidy and easy to remember, am I right?

It probably came about in much the same way as the recent daylight savings time change. Before 2008, Daylight savings time in NZ ran fairly close to that of other places, including the States (with the springing forward & falling back swapped, since our seasons are opposite) because it was handy enough to do so.
But one day, a few bright sparks said, "Hey! Nobody likes it when daylight savings time ends, so why don't we extend it for three weeks and get some more sun-filled days?"
The government replied, "Oh sure, why not? But just get together a petition and have enough people sign it so we know the idea is as popular as you say it is."
"No worries, mate." they said.
And within a few short weeks they had gathered the signatures and *poof* three more government-certified weeks of daylight savings.

Perhaps it's not the best example, what with daylight savings pretty much being an obsolete figment of the imagination, but it all just goes to show that the power of a government's "Because I said so" can be put to less sinister use - like fiddling with time.

P.S. Dear Jill H., I apologize for not researching the proper grammatical use of quotation marks and dialogue before writing this entry, but frankly, I was feeling lazy.

Status Report: We have reached 50% gestation

Scans are the best! If it weren't for the fact that the medical community isn't exactly sure how much ultrasound exposure is good for the little sprog, I'd have one every week! I mean, think about it: you're looking at someone entirely new, who you can bond with and adore without braving the challenges of actual baby care (like crying for hours on end and spitting up all over your freshly cleaned dress shirt). It's also a time when you can breathe a sigh of relief because you know that right then, in that moment, everything is healthy and well. And even if they have zero personality, the ultrasound tech showers you with glorious words like "normal" and "average" - which, while you may go on to become one of those hypercompetitive parents later on, is the best news ever.

Here's the latest pics of Bubzilla:

Head & torso in profile


Left leg & foot


Bubs at boxing practice, praying, or showing off some biceps & delts action.


And according to the scan, we're having a..................BABY!! Hee hee, it's still a surprise. Sorry :)


And finally, a few things I have learned since getting pregnant:

• You can feel sick and want to eat at the same time.

• You are quite impressed with yourself for growing a real live baby, while also sometimes feeling pudgy and frumpy.

• You're every desire can be played off as "what the baby wants/needs" - but only the first time around. Husbands get wise to this quickly.

• We first-time moms get showered with lots of lovely attention, while second(etc.)-time moms get far too little. Oh sure, try doing it all again with a demanding toddler, and a baby who acts nothing like your first one!

• You feel pleased and yet very weirded out when something starts moving inside you. Sci-fi movies come to mind.

• For those months modesty becomes a thing of the past - at least where medical professionals are concerned. "Take off what so you can examine what? Oh sure, why not."

It's all glamour, I tells ya ;)

Are You Ready for Some Footbaaaaaaaall?!

Chad & I have been in the midst of a loooong football famine - it's literally been years since we've been able to sit down, crack open a cold one (coke, of course) and watch some good ol' NFL Monday Night Football. So we were a bit giddy when we found out that one of the cable sports networks was rebroadcasting this year's Super Bowl a few hours after it ended. Not having time to rustle up even some hot wings, we scurried over to our kiwi parents' house to sponge off their cable TV. They were actually quite interested in what was going on, and finally understood how I feel watching rugby, where it looks interesting, and you get the general aim, but the details escape you. Chad was able to field most of their questions effectively, with yours truly even coming up with useful info on the whys and wherefores of gridiron.

The balmy weather and lack of snacks and team sweatshirts were a little disconcerting, but the UPside was that the rebroadcast was commercial-free, and they even cut out the segments of the game where nothing significant happened. Even so, just the highlights ran 2 1/2 hours, so we were happy little hamsters. While some of you might bemoan missing out on the extravagantly expensive creative marketing offerings by various beer & car companies, my main concern was: when the heck are you supposed to go to the bathroom?! This problem was largely avoided in the end, as both of us had caught up on the way the game went in advance, so we pseudo-psychically knew when there was a minute or two of leeway.

Our analysis: We wanted the Cardinals to have won since we tend to pull for the underdog, but they brought much misery on themselves through silly penalties, and frankly, Pittsburgh just outplayed them. And also, Kurt Warner never smiles. I was glad to see him in another Super Bowl (and that his wife grew out that hideous butch haircut of hers) but the man has lost his ability to make facial expressions since leaving the Rams.

Kurt Warner having just thrown an interception that was returned 100 yards for a touchdown:


VS.

Kurt Warner having just thrown a touchdown pass to give his team the lead in the Super Bowl.


I guess it doesn't matter much since they probably don't offer Saturday Night Live hosting gigs to the losing quarterback.

And now, I wish you all the best and truly sympathize as you enter the difficult stretch that is life beyond football season (no, the pro bowl does not count).