Survivor VBS 2014

We just wrapped up a week of Community Vacation Bible School in Jordan. (Technically, it's only four days worth, but for some of us those four days are the culmination of several months of preparation and prayer. I should just say, "We wrapped up the 2014 VBS season" as though it was NFL or NBA or something.)

This year's theme was Wilderness Escape about the journey Moses and the Israelites took after leaving Egypt, how they had to trust God for everything. We broke into tribes of about ten kids per leader and helper, each tribe having a different color and name.  My tribe was Simeon and we were orange....as in "Orange you glad you're in Tribe Simeon?!?!" "YES!!!".  (This was the first year I was not a station person, so I was very worried I'd get a tribe of delinquent Israelites and would spend my whole time dragging them around by their precious little ears, fiercely (but lovingly, right?) whispering threats of desert torture.  I'm not going to lie, I hit my knees hard, begging God for mercy in this area.)

He WAS merciful.
I ended up with the sweetest group of big eyed, kind hearted, funny kids...
I mean, look at them!

If you think I spent all week hugging them and telling them how glad I was that they were MY tribe, you'd be right.  One little girl only came on Day One...I don't know if we scared her or if she had a family vacation or what, but we were then a tribe of nine.  I took THIS picture on the last day and we were eight, because a teeny little soul decided she was defecting to her big sister's tribe.  

I had a pair of helpers that tag teamed during the week.  We'd leave a station with one and by the time we got to the next station, it would be the other.  I seldom saw them do the hand off, so it was kind of startling to find a new helper at the end of our raggedy line.  

On the last day, we went to the Snack station first:

It was Ten Commandment Tablet cookies and water.

I don't know about the other tribes, but mine was hungry ALL THE TIME.

Including me.

On Tuesday, we had quail (Peeps) and manna (Frosted Flakes) during the Bible story time, above and beyond snack time. I think it was THE most effective lesson of the week, partly because it saved our (real) starving lives. 

Part of the reason VBS is so high energy is because of the sugar that's regularly applied throughout the morning.  

The next station was crafts, where we wrapped up a three day weaving project on cardboard looms with recycled tshirt strips. 

You'll note the brilliant example of boy-child bedhead on my little friend at the front of the picture. 

I'd look over at him throughout the morning and just grin...it didn't hurt that he was beaming right back at me with his hair waving.

On to Moses' Tent, where we had the dramatization of the day's Bible story.

Seriously.

Don't you just want to squeeze each of these precious things?

They were such good kids.

I'd look at other tribes with sincere pity, all week.

I noticed that there was some coveting of my kids, too, but it was in vain.

Team Simeon was tight.

We left Moses and eased down the hall to the missionary room which was all about water...our offerings taken daily were to help families who had no clean water to get it for a year. Only $2.50 would do that!

Each time the kids gave an offering, they got to put a blue balloon "water drop" in the tank.

They gave so much that the station leaders ran out of blue balloons on Day Three.

That's cool. 

Our last station was fun and games....literally.

Every day, we had an injury.

Sometimes it was a head to head crash, sometimes it was a sliver or cut...nothing serious, but just enough that I ended up finishing out the session with a tired little body on my lap, anxiously looking for some sign of blood. 

We never did find blood, except for the red paint of the sacrificial lamb of Passover from Moses' Tent.

After all this, we'd tromp back down the hill in the middle of the street to the Assembly of God church for the finale, which consisted of much singing, bouncing, loud memory verse recitation and so forth.

There's a core group of us that have been doing this VBS gig for about 7 or 8 years, I think. We started with no money (save our own), no solid curriculum, about 20 kids (including our own) and lots of determination fueled by prayer. 

This year, we were blessed with enough money from donations and fund raising to be able to buy necessary supplies and even some we considered "luxury" that in years past we'd make ourselves. (Luxury meaning posters that were purchased, the bandannas for each kid, etc.)  We ended up with about 45 kids solid for four days, and an enviable staff of volunteers that helped make things like snacks/games/missionary themes happen. 

Sometimes I forget that not ALL missions are overseas or inner city, you know?  The best part of this is that I will be able to keep in touch with these kids throughout the year, visit with their parents and keep track of their little lives long term.  They're going to be prayed for every week...my tribe and ALL the kids...because the folks who "produce" VBS have them in their hearts and on their minds year round.  

Tessie Lou, Brittany Supermodel

I'm horribly biased, but I think Brittanies are the prettiest, classiest dogs in the canine world.  Especially the females, with their flouncy feathered legs and perky triangle ears....not to mention the bright eyes that notice EVERYTHING.

Here's Tessie at 9 months...
Ready for a centerfold spread in Gun Dog magazine.

Here is the bird who has built a raggedy old next in one of our spruce trees and who swoops and cusses at the glamour girl for getting too close.

Fierce looking little thing, isn't he?  

I know this is the daddy bird because he did a horrible job swooping and cussing.  The mama bird returned a few minutes after I finished taking the photos and took him to task over his relaxed attitude toward property protection. 

I think she was secretly pleased that we said disparaging things about the nest because she herself had not thought it up to snuff and so was validated in her criticism. 

Crazy Cukes

This is going to seem ridiculous in its simplicity, and you'll wonder why I'm even posting such a recipe because surely I'll remember it until I die, but I wanted to share it.  Kind of like a dumb joke that you can't keep to yourself.  Or something.  

I started making this when I tried a recipe for Korean Tacos made from beef short ribs, which I always have an overabundance of and no real inspiration for using them.  The tacos were amazing (yes, I'll post that recipe later) but the cucumbers were what we couldn't keep out of!  

Paper thin slices of 1 cucumber mixed with paper thin slices of red onion, a good splash of sweet-and-tangy rice vinegar, salt and pepper to taste...shazaam!...fresh pickles you'll be hiding from your family and lying about the existence of.  And you won't even be ashamed of it.  

For those of you needing more specific measurements, let's say:

1 cup of paper thin sliced cucumber

1/2 cup of paper thin sliced red onion

1/8 cup of sweet and tangy rice vinegar

1/2 tsp salt

Four grinds of fresh ground pepper (or more to taste)

Toss in bowl and let sit for 5 minute if you can bear waiting that long. 

These are exceptionally good on roast beef sandwiches.

And if the bowl empties in 10 minutes, just add more cukes and onions to the brine...no problemo!

The Gift

There's an Ian Tyson song about Charlie Russell's gift of being able to capture the wild beauty of Montana and her inhabitants, to the extent of God telling Russell that he was in charge of painting the sunsets from heaven because "I can't paint them quite as good as you".  (It sounds irreverent, but it's not, really.)
If you click on the bright red words above, you can listen to the song and it will make more sense.

Russell and God were in fine form this week, so I'm posting some pictures of their work for you to ooh-and-aah over. (These were all taken from my deck or yard, and are unedited.  Those are the true, real colors.)  I grew up with this richness and still find it stunning, never becoming blase' about the sky here in Eastern Montana.  
By way of understanding scale, in the fourth picture you'll notice a little round ball on the bottom left side...that would be a tree on the hill to the north of our house by the county road.

This post is especially for Myron and Ada Pentz in Perth, Australia who sent me a stunning little book by a woman rancher who takes photos of the color around her in the Outback.  

Thank you for the additional inspiration! 

This is Montana...

Where you and your daughter will drive 80 miles to attend a 40 horse parade in the rain with friends  who drove 40 miles themselves to join you.

A friend who will bring two books about women ranchers in the West who write. A friend who still has your kids' clothing from a 120 mile sleepover with her four and your two kids five months ago. You'll visit as hard as you can with her while the kids "drink cocoa" in a local sandwich shop.  The decision will be made to feed them at McDonalds and the visit will continue, with french fries and stories of brandings.

 You'll then load up and drive another 78 miles, narrowly avoiding a speeding ticket, to go to a baby shower in a bar for a friend you've only actually seen in person one other time.

The other time was a seven day blind friend-date in another state with a concert and fauhncy dinners scheduled...the binding interests being (among other things) wine, Pat Green, and an Eastern Montana upbringing. A friend who understands the idea of deep roots and a restless heart.  A friend who subscribes to Bon Appetit magazine so you can both try kohlrabi salad, two states apart.   

The baby shower in the Blue Room (which is actually red) will be filled with complete strangers to you....but only for about 15 minutes because after that, connections will be made in a manner such as this: "Do you know the Greens? My Aunt Bev is a Green.  Here...Aunt Bev, this is Mary Pluhar from Cohagen.  She knows Mike and Thelma." "Now, what Pluhar are you married to?" and so forth.  You're not a stranger in Montana very long, no matter where you're from.

Now that you've driven nearly 160 miles and have made at least 5-10 new friends in the area, you decide to stay for the After Shower Festivities (which is where everything REALLY happens, as most Eastern Montanans know.).  But that gathering is to be held at the ranch where the guest of honor was raised... 

Which ALSO happens to be the ranch of your father-in-law's friend from college in the 1960's, a friendship that has lasted for nearly 50 years.  Completely random circumstance, as it happens.  

Let's say you and your daughter load up the flowers and leftover cheesecake to follow your friend to her folks' place after she and her mom pick up a pizza "just around the corner" (it's actually the OTHER direction than that they were indicating with their nods and hand gestures...tricky).   The ranch will be 30 miles from the Blue Room (yes, still red) in the bar around the OTHER corner from the pizza joint, through gorgeous Montana breaks country.  

There will have been a little drama involving cars that were borrowed and a wedding that no one really wanted to go to but had to, in the car that was borrowed and currently 70 miles to the north.  Pizza will be consumed, hair curled, drivers and replacement cars designated and dispatched.  

Which would leave a smallish party of the new mama, baby, new grandpa and the guests from Cohagen, who ended up discussing mutual acquaintances and areas....some with surprising connections. Although it's not REALLY that surprising because Montana, after all, is one big small town. 

At some point, you'll have to leave because even though this IS Montana, sleep-over baby showers are not in vogue unless it rains 3 inches and there's a gumbo road.  It will be hard, because the day has been so happy and besides, you might not see these friends for another couple years...when the baby is running and climbing trees.  

You and your daughter will take a shorter alternate route which may lead you to the highway or Ashland, depending on the accuracy of your turns. But you'll make all the right turns, pausing for cows on the road and buck deer in the velvet crossing the gravel road in front of you. 

You'll find the highway and drive north for 65 miles in a stunning summer evening, where the sun is setting like it's made for a movie, listening to your daughter name horses she'll never own.  And you'll wave at every car, thinking that one of them is the car returning to your friend's dad's ranch.  

There'll be a street dance on Main Street, so you'll turn on Ian Tyson cowboy songs in support of the festivities for the last 80 miles home, thinking over how amazing that life is to joined these people by way of a humble blog started by a lonely ranch wife in the depths of winter.  

It will smell of rain and you'll pray for a torrential downpour as you pull into your driveway and shut the rig down, gather up your books, camera, daughter and new memories...walk past the moths beating on the porch light...

Better get to bed.  Tomorrow you'll move cows.  You'll hope it's in the mud.