Baptism by tongue

What do you get when you mix the 4th article of faith with the 6th? Laying on of tongue for the gift of the holy tongue.

Welcome!

What's been happening at the Wilson's? We recently took a trip to Utah. These little kiddos are pretty seasoned travelers, but even so, we had to break out the iPad movies once or twice to keep the peace. Make sure to take note of Keenan's hair here.

Keenan needed a bit of a trim. Shortly after I started, however, I realized my mistake in thinking I could just do a quick trim while he looked at his reflection in the mirror. What was I thinking? And now he looks like this: 

This last one is my favorite of the "Muffins with Mom" event at Adara's pre-K class. It was very sweet to have Adara greet me as I sat down. She asked which drink I preferred (lemonade or water), then served me a drink as well as a plate of mini muffins and some chocolate dipped strawberries.

Sprouted Ezekiel Bread

Has anyone ever heard of Ezekiel bread? My dear husband ordered some Ezekiel grain mix when he ordered our bulk food storage last year. *shakes head* I had never heard of Ezekiel grain or Ezekiel bread.

Making bread from the Ezekiel mix Jon ordered has been a wonderful adventure that I just have to share and record for posterity. So, the picture above is, apparently, dough. I hope. It is not like any dough I have ever made. It is nothing more than the grains in the Ezekiel mix, sprouted, and ground up in the food processor. According to my sources (Googled recipes for sprouted Ezekiel bread), this can be made into whatever bread product you desire.

Stay tuned for the conclusion of this episode in my search for healthy, delicious, and interesting foods for my family.

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Update -- the bread failed. It didn't cook in the middle, and the parts that did cook tasted awful. I will go back to eating it the way Jon made it last time: grind the grains and make bread like normal people! But I will be on the alert for someone who knows how to do this successfully and make it taste good.

P.S. Lisa, it is sprouted bread. It uses six or seven different grains and beans, per God's instructions to Ezekiel in the Bible.

Resemblances

I asked Adara, "Are you more like your mom or your dad?"

"Mom," she said.

"But you look like your dad."

"Yeah, but when I close my eyes, they're black."

2012 Winter in California

Sorry these are so random. It's a smattering of the things we've been doing to keep ourselves occupied while we've been waiting to move into our new home.

This is Naomi sitting on my lap at the children's science museum in Santa Ana. She is watching Dora the Explorer (puppet/mascot), and, though Dora is some distance from us, Naomi is keeping her eye on that puppet, just in case any evasive action needs to be taken.

Outside of the science museum: Adara placed the sticker over her own mouth with no prompting. Hmmm. . .

Just an average view of Keenan at breakfast.

Nana and Poppy came to visit and we all went to the Santa Ana zoo. The carousel animals were exsquisite!

Keenan stew?

My Sweet, Simple Life

These are some of the perks that arise in the midst of the hubbub of raising three young children:

Naomi finally has enough hair for pigtails.

Look at that red!

Little angel face. Well, sort of.

There is a river walk by the temporary housing we're staying in.

My father-in-law described this as an inter-racial couple.

Here We Go . . .

Well, here goes nothing. My first attempt at real storytelling. It's a first draft. I'm posting it because I haven't really done creative writing since, like, the 9th grade. I'd love to know how you like it. And if I lose you anywhere, tell me where I lost you and if you have a suggestion on where I should have taken you instead.

Working Title: "Worldly Love"

“Just like a cartoon.” That's what Jon thought as he fell off a cliff. When he woke up he could feel the blood starting to dry on his face. He remembered washing in the stream, tying his shirt around the gash on his head. It didn't stop the blood, though, so he just put the shirt back on. The next thing he remembered, he was following the river through the jungle. 

He was in Bolivia teaching English as part of a mission trip for his church. It had been over a month and he couldn't speak Spanish. It was frustrating, and he just needed to get away for awhile.


A short walk from the village was a ridge that looked out over the jungle. From the top of that ridge, Jon could see glimpses of the river below. He went down.


It was late afternoon when he decided to start back to the village. Santiago de Chiquitos. There was nothing else nearby except for mountains and jungle. Dense jungle. Jon couldn't find the path he'd followed down to the river. And he didn't have much time. Being in the jungle overnight was not a possibility in his mind.


When he saw the cliff, maybe 15 or 20 feet at most, he was desperate. He’d climbed about 10 feet up before the sandstone crumbled out from underneath him, condemning him for his youthful . . . he balked as the word “stupidity” came to his mind. Consciously, he re-worked the thought: The sandstone had permitted his adventurous impulse for a commendable 10 feet before it succumbed to the pressure.


The sun was moving more quickly now. He thought he saw a girl leading him through the jungle, but his consciousness was fading in and out so he wasn't sure. Her dark hair and white dress made him think she was a school girl from the village.


"I've never seen such ugly girls," he thought. His girlfriend in America was a pretty blonde California girl. Even though he didn't like his hometown, he wished he were there now. His head was still gushing blood, he was most likely hallucinating, and he thought he heard a puma snarling. Then he saw it up ahead: the path back to the village.


***********************************************************

David crouched in the dirt of the school yard, plotting with his friends, their faces the same color as the ground. They watched the gringo English teacher talking to some kids nearby. When he left, David approached Mateo, the tallest in the group.


"That teacher likes you," he said simply.


"Why do I care?"


"He's doesn't know Spanish! Let's have a little fun with him."


"He's our teacher, David! I don't want to get in trouble."


"Mateo, this teacher isn't like the others. I think he can take a joke."


"Yeah, you're probably right. Let's have some fun. What do you have in mind?"


***********************************************************


The next morning David and Mateo watched carefully as the nuns inspected their classroom.


"Hola mamacita. Que tal?" Jon smiled hos most charming smile as he greeted the Mother Superior. The children struggled not to laugh out loud.

It was founded as a Jesuit Mission.  The train from Santa Cruz stopped frequently as herds of cattle ambled across the tracks. Then you had to take the bus through the mountain roads, narrow ledges with steep cliffs dropping down. Jon noticed several times when the exterior wheels of the bus were partly touching the road, and mostly spinning in mid-air.