Crisis in Kenya

It has been gnawing at me for the past few weeks. I've put it out of my mind choosing to pretend that the violence in Kenya is not really happening. I've pretended with our local paper that it is only worth a small blurb of attention on the last page of the world section. That is all it has held in my mind, but today, as I read of the continued violence in a country I always thought of as the one safe beautiful place in Africa, I feel a growing frustration at my helplessness to do anything. The world is a crazy place. It is a world where a team of five doctors in India can steal kidneys from 500 people (this made page 11... people not paying for Portland Public trains took too much of the front page) and 178.6 million people will be traveling by train for the Chinese New Year. I'm not sure why Kenya stands out amidst all this news. Maybe it is because I've known people who have lived and worked there. Maybe it is because fellow seminarians are from there. Maybe because I have prayed with missionaries who have served there. Maybe because it is a place I've always wanted to visit. Maybe it is because I just finished reading A LONG WAY GONE (which is about boy soldiers in Sierra Leone). Not sure what it is, but I feel frustrated and helpless that there is so little that can be done from my sofa on a rainy Portland day. I found one web site through Africa Inland Mission- a respectable organization serving in Africa. They have set up a relief fund (read more @ http://www.aimint.org/usa/projects/kenya_crisis_fund.html). Anyone have any other ideas? I'd love to hear if you know anyone there or other ways to help.

Rainy Days Don't Always Get Me Down...

Who says rainy days have to get you down (other than the Carpenters)? Rynn, the consumate crafter, finds entertainment in a bit of marker makeup. She's a cat, by the way. Oh...and her afternoon project? A puzzle she made out of construction paper of a person with interchangeable pieces to make it "a girl or a boy"- and I don't mean the clothes or hair.

Doggie Daycare

It was a rough day at the Littles. No room left in daycare so I had to turn to what other than...Doggie Daycare. Eleanor thought she could look like a dog for a day. I mean, after all, there are more daycares FOR DOGS than for children in Portland. Fun fact of the day.

Actually, we had a great day visiting the "Pixie Project," an animal rescue non-profit sponsored by the Virginia Woof Doggie Daycare. Since we have yet to convince Jason that a pet really would bring joy to our house, the girls and I decided to play with some animals after whom we did not have to clean up. BUT, it was a close call to not come home with a Dachsund puppy named Rolo who especially like Rynn. He was SOOO cute.

Snow Bunnies

It has been a bit quiet on the blog as of late. The fullness of the holidays gave way to more visitors and to the return of routine. With what has seemed a relentless forcast of gray skies and rain we have navigated our days stubbornly refusing to bow to the weather. THe children are becoming pros at reminding me, "Mommy, did you bring the towel to wipe off the slide?." With rainboots and mittens we set out to live in this damp mossy city that at times has felt like a very wet dishrag in desperate need of being rung out. All that to say- today was GLORIOUS. Azure blue skies. Full sun. Not a cloud. And a day that ended with a full moon rising over the Columbia River Gorge. Today was a day Jason and I were reminded of the incredible benefits of living in Portland (Mt. Hood is only fifty miles from our house). After two hours ransacking the house for various mittens, hats, boots, and snow gear, two different outdoor stores to find Eleanor water proof mittens, a gas stop, a potty stop, and a duck tape stop (to secure the snowpants to the little guys' boots) we finally arrived at Mt. Hood for an afternoon of sledding with the girls. The always resourceful Jason, not wanting to succumb to buying a $10 plastic sled, decided to strap on his river kayak and push the girls down the hill in his boat. Rynn giggled with delight shouting, "Do it again, Daddy! Do it again!." It was about 15 degrees...but by golly- the Little family got some sun and some fun.

On the Road

Snow Bunnies

"I think this might be good practice for getting her on the river," suggests Jason.

Our view of Mt. Hood. wow. Check out the snow blowing off the mountain in the wind.

See that green dot? Jason's kayak/sled..

This photo represents blood, sweat, and tears. THank God He didn't call us to Alaska.

Ready, Set, Go!

Going Home

Reflections on Port O Potties, I mean, the Year

Have you ever been on a run through your neighborhood, happily moving along, when suddenly this terrible distracting urge to go the bathroom comes upon you like an unwelcome freight train? You are jogging along blissfully enjoying the changing seasons, the new shutters on that old house, or the moving shapes of the clouds when it hits you. Panic descends as you contemplate your options. You could knock on a stranger's door and hope they don't think you are a Jehovah's witness. You could sneak behind a vacant house. You could miserably keep running hoping you aren't doing physical damage to yourself. Or, having tried all the above options, I think the best is to hold out for a Port-o-Pottie. Yes, those pretty blue boxes you see at fairs, road races, and of course in the yard of that house that is finally putting on the new addition. They appear on the horizon promising hope and relief- the runner's salvation- the Hallelujah chorus should be playing in your head.

Why these thoughts on portable potties, you ask? As I went for a mind clearing new year's run yesterday I gained that special clarity that comes from being alone with the pavement. Sometimes life feels like you are just hanging in until the next port-o-potty. You feel like everything is about to fall apart and then, when you can't wait any longer, it all works out. In many ways this last year has felt that way. We decided to move to Portland to plant a church. We wondered if the money would be raised. It finally was. We wondered if we would sell our house. We finally did. We wondered if we would find a house. We found an amazing house. I wonder sometimes if the ache of leaving a place I loved will go away even in the face of a place I'm growing to love. I wonder what our church will look like this time next year. Each curve of the road has new surprises, and in the end, there is usually always a Port-o-Potty- or at least a clean pair of pants at home. Happy New Year! Here's to 2007 gone by and the 2008 yet to come.

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