Six Months Later

It's amazing that six months have passed since a devasting earthquake struck Haiti, destroying so much, killing so many, and leaving so many injured, homeless, and in despair. You'll remember that the children in the care of One Vision were unharmed; however, the quake left them homeless yet again.

Since the earthquake the children have been living in a temporary location closer to the property where the orphanage will eventually be built. And they are doing well. They are still receiving clean water to drink and food to eat from One Vision, thanks to the money their monthly sponsors faithfully give.

The children wearing their new One Vision t-shirts, with a Knoxville team who travelled to Haiti in June 2010.

The challenges One Vision face are plentiful: a great number of children were orphaned because of the quake. This means many more children are now in One Vision's care. The cost of providing water, food, and medicine for the children tripled as a result of the quake. And the children have been split into two groups [the older ones (teens and young adults) and the younger ones (elementary age)] and now live in two different locations.

At the end of this year, the older group will be released from One Vision's care. As someone who visited the entire group twice in 2009 and specifically worked with this older group in November, it's hard to think about this; however, I understand that this was a difficult decision that One Vision had to make. So, how can we help this group? Pray for them. Pray for their protection, their provision, and for opportunities for their future.

The younger group, which continues to grow, will eventually move onto the One Vision Hub, which will include the orphanage, a church, and a school. Construction is to begin later this year. Groups continue to travel to Haiti with One Vision, and these five-day trips are amazing opportunities to see the great need of this land, the inspiring smiles of these children, and the tremendous hope of the One Vision project firsthand.

To know more about One Vision, to learn how you can sponsor a child, and to inquire about upcoming trips, please visit www.onevisionintl.com.

Lyrical

Imagine a gauky teenage girl sitting on the floor in front of a dual-cassette player. She's tediously transcribing the words of Lionel Richie's "Truly." (Play, rewind, play, rewind...)

In a time when one can find the words to nearly any song online, it's been a long time since a song has moved me to sit down with a notebook and pen to write down the lyrics. However, that's exactly what Andrew Peterson's new song makes me want to do.

"Dancing in the Minefields" is a beautiful ballad about marriage...sharing life with another, committing to the journey, and perserving. The lyrics are so rich and true that I want to pause with every line to echo an affirmation, "Yes, yes."

Listen to this amazing song, and watch the beautiful video. And Tim, if Casey Kasem was still around, I would dedicate this one to you.

Click here, and give it time to "buffer" before you play it. That way it won't stop and start and you can enjoy it without disruption: Andrew Peterson's "Dancing in the Mine Fields"

While you are waiting for it to buffer, read the article about Andrew Peterson on the left-hand side of the page. It's an excellent portrait of this man and his rich insights about life, art, community, and faith.

Hello Tonight

When I was a teenager, my mother was extremely cool to take my sister and me to concerts. From Loretta Lynn, Kool and the Gang, and Chicago (our first three) to Amy Grant, the Jackson's Victory tour, and Sting, she was a good sport to sit through performances that didn't really appeal to her musical taste.

Well, I am learning that life comes full circle and often surprises us when it makes a complete loop. Last Thursday night was one of those moments. Tim and I went to see Chris Tomlin in concert for the third time with our friends Jennifer and Andre. This time we decided to include our middle school-age sons, Seth and Eric.


The billing on the Hello Tonight! tour is Chris Tomin and TobyMac. I have to confess that: #1. I assumed Chris Tomlin would be the main act, and #2. I was not too familiar with TobyMac's music. Instead, Chris Tomlin came onstage first. His performance was, as usual, amazing, and it was a joy to watch Seth and Eric engage in the worship along with the thousands of others in attendance.

Next, TobyMac took the stage. I knew immediately that I was outside of my comfort zone. After awkwardly moving/dancing/clapping to the first song, I sat down. I reluctantly confess...my 40-year-old body didn't know how to respond to the hip-hop/rock/funk/soul! Unfortunately, however, the boys took my lead and sat down too. I was a party pooper...who couldn't remember how to dance!

So, when the next song began I stood back up. (They stood up too.)

As TobyMac's performance continued I noticed that I loosened up and forgot to worry about my awkward moving/dancing/clapping (okay, nearly forgot). He was a great performer...passionate, energetic, and engaged. And I was reminded that worship can happen, regardless of whether the music happens to be familiar tunes or "Funky Jesus Music."

The finale was my favorite part of the evening, as Chris Tomlin joined TobyMac on stage for "City on our Knees," "God of this City," and the final song of the evening "Jesus Freak." It was incredible! And I found myself moving/dancing/clapping AND smiling along with the rest of the freaks (Jesus freaks, that is) in the crowd.

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A Festive Fourth

Our Fourth of July was a blast as we started what will hopefully become a new tradition: a camping trip with our friends, the Alves family. We spent three nights at the Elkmont campground in the Smoky Mountains. The first night got off to an exciting start, as coyotes skirmished near our tents. We were all jolted awake by their yelps and howls. (Thankfully the next two nights were free of any four-legged visitors.)

Here are some pictures from our holiday weekend:

A highlight of the Smokies is creek hopping, but this year it took on new meaning after a few days with no shower. Ahhh, that cold creek water felt refreshing. (If only I could have brought some shampoo with me...)

Reed and Maya had a great time playing together, whether riding their bicycles through the woods surrounding our campsite, exploring the creek, or playing WebKinz in their private tent.

Here the four friends take a break from exploring the creek: Maya, Reed, Seth, and Eric.

Jennifer and I watch the kiddos having fun in the creek. Within minutes, they were all soaking wet!

The kids found this rock, which made a great little water slide. That first slide into the creek was shockingly cold.

Sunday morning at our campsite, and only Reed seems to have energy left for our one remaining night at camp. The Alves had to leave on Sunday, so we toughed out one last day and night at camp without them. We enjoyed a quiet day with naps, ice cream, creek hopping, and Yahtzee.

Here are the guys with the kids on Sunday morning. Everyone is all smiles...I guess that means the first annual Tucker/Alves camping trip is a success! Looking forward to next year...minus the coyotes!

Into the Woods

My friend Jinda can remember a conversation years ago when I declared I would never go camping. Well, I guess this post confirms the old adage, "Never say never."

Last summer we began our family's camping adventures (gently with a campout in the backyard and then weekends in Elkmont and Cosby). We continued the adventure this weekend with a Father's Day trip to Cades Cove.

The highlight of our weekend was riding the 11-mile loop of Cades Cove on our bicycles. We left our campsite at 7:30 on Saturday morning to begin the ride, and we finished around 10:30. Cars are not allowed onto the loop until 10 a.m., so we enjoyed the entire ride without seeing a single car.

We did see wild turkey and deer - plenty of them. At one point, we came upon a deer grazing on the side of the road. We stopped our bikes to watch, and she contentedly kept munching. It was a wonderful morning. The one-lane road was recently paved, so it was a smooth and scenic ride.

Another highlight of our camping trip was welcoming guests to our campsite on Saturday afternoon: my parents surprised us, and friends Joe and Amy Coker, with their sons Layton and Conner, paid us a visit. It was a pleasure to visit under the canopy of trees and along the creekbed.

Our next camping adventure in July will push me even further, as we extend it by one additional night - three nights in the woods...without a shower. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm looking forward to it.

Pseudonym

This morning as I was helping out with a project for church I came to the moment that is always tricky for me: the moment when I am asked to declare my title (or occupation). Generally it happens at the doctor or school as I am filling out the patient/parent questionnaires. In my flurry of scribbling down the usual facts, I come to this one and pause.

I know many women who gussy up the term "homemaker," feeling it doesn't properly reflect all we stay-at-home moms do ("domestic engineer" being the most common that leaps to mind). My pause this morning, however, came not from a hesitation to label myself a homemaker. It came from a resistance to label myself something else entirely.

Writer.

My kind friend who was working with me on the project stated matter-of-factly that this is what it would say under my name. Instantly my stomach churned and I felt warm. I had to correct him. To admit that it felt untrue. To suggest that we stick to something that I know to be true: "Wife, mother, friend." Yes, yes, and yes. This is who I am. But writer?

Long after he was gone and the project was finished, I was left thinking about my hesitancy to label myself a writer. Why? Well, first of all a writer writes. And I have to confess I haven't been doing much of that lately - at least pen to paper (or more accurately fingers to keyboard). My head has been busy cataloging story ideas and blog entries, but that seems to be as far as I get these days.

What would give me the confidence to call myself a writer? If I were published? If I posted fresh material faithfully to my blog? If I had an audience of readers?

Truth be told, I've known I was a writer since my high school crush admitted my letter made him pull over his truck as he read it on the drive home. I've know since my essay was published in our senior yearbook. I can still remember the response of my classmates. I've known since my first college English class when the professor (notoriously tough to please) praised my first essay. I've known as I've worked with student writers, edited professional writers, and mentored (and been mentored by) aspiring writers.

To say that I am something doesn't mean it must be my occupation. Wife, mother, friend...not my occupations, but essential parts of who I am. In the end, I see that adding "writer" to this list isn't a deception but an admission - I am a writer. It is part of my gifting and part of my glory.

It takes courage to say it; it takes even more courage to believe it. But here it is (I'm not sure the fill-in-the-blank is long enough to hold it all): "Daughter, sister, wife, mother, friend, seeker, student, believer, mentor, teacher, leader, listener, encourager, worshipper, ponderer, and writer." I'm sure that answer will merit a double-take at the doctor's office.

Advantage Susan

What is the bravest things you've done lately? Well, for me, it is tennis.

Yes, you read that right. I began taking tennis lessons just over a month ago. I started partly so I could learn to volley the ball back and forth to the boys, who have been taking lessons for the past six months.

However, I admit that the larger reason I began taking tennis lessons is to face a deep fear of mine. It's not a fear of tennis exactly (now that would be silly, wouldn't it?) It's a more complex fear that looks something like this:

Neophobia (fear of anything new) + Scopophobia (fear of being looked at) + Ataxiophobia (fear of muscular incoordination) + Atychiphobia (fear of failure) + Enissophobia (fear of criticism) + Xanthophobia (fear of the color yellow - admit it, those small yellow balls whizzing toward your head are terrifying!)

When I parked at the courts for my first lesson I sat behind the steering wheel fighting back tears. One might think I was about to single-handedly face the Williams sisters. I told my coach to teach me just as he would Reed and admitted how terrified I was. He smiled, encouragingly, but I knew he really had no clue how much baggage I was bringing onto the court.

Then something amazing happened. My coach tossed me the first ball...and I returned it. He tossed me the second one...and I returned it too. Forehands and backhands, I hit more balls than I missed. And with each whack, I sent a painful memory, a physical agreement, or a low expectation back over the net.

Over the past few years, I've seen that sometimes I enter into situations just to prove that I am brave. Those moments usually leave me trembling and terrified. Other times I enter into situations to face a fear, and I find myself seeing more clearly, breathing deeper, and smiling wider as I pass through to the other side still standing. I don't know how to explain it, but there is a difference - perhaps it is simply in my motives.

I no longer want to be held captive by fear. And I've found that life offers surprising invitations to face our fears for the sake of healing. For me, this has meant speaking, leading, running, writing, and so much more. And now the path of healing happens to include a racquet and little yellow ball. (And maybe, someday, a cute little tennis skirt.)