Where Oh Where has my Passport Gone

                Those of you who know me well are aware that I do occasionally lose things. I have been working on this since coming to Georgia with a modicum of success.  That was all blown apart this morning when the identification items required to complete the process of becoming a sub in Gwinnett county disappeared totally.  The items needed would be my Passport, birth certificate and Social Security Card.  My Driver’s License was in my purse.

                It’s a good thing I got up early because at least an hour was consumed in a futile search.  I waited until this morning because I have a specific file in which those items have a special place.  So, even before I made my bed, I decided to get them out and put them on top of the 1 inch stack of completed paper work.  (I cannot tell you how many times I had to write my address, my phone number, my social security number,  my height and weight -that was only once-,  and date everything.)

                Pulling the drawer open,  finding the right green folder and opening it took mere seconds.  But the pocket in the back of the folder was empty.  No!!!  Wait, maybe it was another green folder, but no passport in any of them.  Maybe I was in a hurry and put it in another folder.  Panicked searching.  It was a good thing I took my blood pressure medication this morning, because it was climbing.

                Then there’s that moment when you pray, Lord, calm me down and help me think, but , the mind continues to contemplate the consequences of not finding them documents.  What if they are lost completely?  What if my identity has been stolen because I left them somewhere.  Now I can’t complete the sub process.  Should I even go?  Oh, but wait, I had to show them to get my Georgia Driver’s license so maybe that would be enough.  No way, bureaucracy doesn’t work like that .

                The clock ticked on while I looked through all my files in two cabinets, rummaged through everything on the top of the desk, searched through every bag and even checked the kitchen counter.  I had them when I got my Driver’s License so I knew they had been here.  But, I needed to get in the shower, because the search wasn’t getting me anywhere. Figuring at least the interview could get done only  completing paperwork would be left seemed to be the right option.  While in the shower, I remembered that I had opened up my Credit Union account and thought maybe they were in the folder from Delta Community Credit Union.  Excitedly,  I found that folder and looked inside.  No passport, birth certificate or social security card.  I had been certain. I could remember taking them to Delta and having copies made.

                Finally, the brain clicked into gear – I had used those documents last week, taking them to have an I-9 employment eligibility form notarized for the online job.  Mental pictures reminded me that I took everything in a plastic envelope that had to be near the top of something.  Walking into the dining area I saw it sitting on one of the chairs.  With heart pounding, I opened the envelope and there they were. Now that spells R-E-L-I-E-F  better than Rolaids.  I copied each one twice as required and also copied my Driver’s license as required, gathered everything and headed out for the interview and document review.

                Everything was in order and all was well, until I had to put my Driver’s License number on a fingerprinting/background check form.  I opened my wallet and no Driver’s License.  But remember I had colored copies of it, so that could be done.

                I am now duly fingerprinted and awaiting the letter that says I can sub in the county, providing of course the background check comes back OK.

                I drove home very carefully and found my Driver’s License on my multippurpose printer.  The passport, birth certificate and social security card are already back in the right place.  I’ll tell you, I may never travel out of the country, but that passport has proved extremely valuable here in Georgia.

My Cup Overflows

     Isn’t it amazing how God works?  This weekend, if I am honest, I was feeling a little lonesome – a tad blue.  My family was gone and I was on Ginger care duty, nothing exciting was on the agenda, I finished a depressing book, and I was tired.  That’s a formula for feeling sorry for yourself.  I officially joined the church where I’ve been attending, but the pastor preached too long and so people had to hurry to their Sunday School classes and get out of the way for the class meeting in the sanctuary, so I really didn’t get to meet anyone new.  Talk about a pity party.

     But today, I was back at school, continuing my volunteer stint in Kindergarten.  The children were glad I was there and Amy (the teacher) was glad I was there to help get ready for Open House and Curriculum night.  Several  people expressed appreciation that some of us would keep coming after our two week commitment was over.  Even the principal stopped in with thanks.  Amy invited me to stay for the Open House and I was glad to do it, because I’ve invested in those children, too, and I wanted to see their parents and loved feeling like a part of the classroom.  Amy had to take her own kids home and feed them so I stuck around and washed some tables and organized a few more things and did a little planning for working with some of the children who are struggling with letters and sounds. The Kindergarten teachers who stayed graciously invited me to join them for pizza.

     I checked my cool new Smart phone for messages and found one from the Gwinnett County Substitute Coordinator saying that I should come for an orientation, class, document gathering and fingerprinting on Wednesday.

     Then the parents came, and they had heard all about Ms. Beaver.  It was humbling to be reminded of the impact we have on children.  Amy went through her presentation and came to the volunteer section.  Then she blew me away as she introduced me and brought out a bouquet of flowers and started to cry.  Well, needless to say, I cried, too.  It brought home again how important the job of teaching is and how hard it is to do it well.  No good teacher wants to do anything less than the best they can for every child, even if there are 28 children in a class.  Amy made me feel like I had really made a difference and few things could give me more joy than feeling like I made a difference for learners and for their teacher. 

It only got better when several parents made it a point to come up to me to talk about their child and how they kept talking about Ms. Beaver.  Truly, I am honored that God through Beth and her church provided me with the opportunity to continue to yse the gift He has so graciously instilled in my heart.  It’s quite likely that this volunteer gig will give me opportunities to sub in this school if all works out on that front. 

     Indeed, I am tired, but my cup is overflowing tonight.

Church Home

     I started writing a Facebook post to a few friends this morning, and it ended up saying things I am feeling strongly right now.  I hope all of you know how important my faith is to me and how much I rely on being part of a church body where I can worship, learn, and serve.  Several of you have prayed for me to find that church.  Thank you so much for your prayers.  After attending Gwinnett Community Church for several weeks, I wanted to either commit or move on. 

     Since there are no perfect churches, I approached this decision not seeking perfection or even total  comfort, but the place where God could work with, me and I could feel right about being there.  This is definitely the south and a good evangelical church stands on every corner.  I exaggerate, but not a lot.  Being a product of my own specific faith journey means there are certain things I hope for in a church and from the people who are there.  Much of it is common sense – friendly, Biblical, loving, good teaching - but some are rather intangible and more about feeling connected. 

     Website searches found a few churches for the final check-it -out list even before I arrived.  Because we had family plans on my first Sunday here, I chose the church that had an early service, so we could do our brunch.  (That’s the same way I got to Shalom the first Sunday and never left.) That church was Gwinnett Community Church (GCC).  Friendly greetings awaited me at the door, the worship was God centered using music that blesses me and leads me to worship.  The pastor used a Bible version that just happened to match the new Bible I had purchased specifically for carrying purposes.  Before he began his message on a challenging scripture passage, the pastor quoted a saying from long ago in the church that has been part of our Women’s Bible Study covenant at Shalom: In the essentials – unity; in the non-essentials – liberty; in all things – charity.  He shared his insights into the passage at hand, and did so with grace for those who might have a different view, and yet with clarity and the challenge to consider the passage carefully.  His words provided clarity for me.

     I decided to return and to jump into a women’s event later in the week.  After two more women’s events and full participation in a summer Bible study, it seemed right  to consider whether this was the place to start establish roots or to move on.  The time to evaluate arrived, and that would involve a visit with the pastor, who had actually been gone quite a few weeks on a missions trip and a short vacation.

    GCC seemed to be the right church, at least for now, but I had a couple of little things niggling me.  Praying about those and asking the Lord to erase those concerns or make it very clear if they were significant certainly led to anticipation for what the day would hold.  In the course of the Bible study and separate from any question or prompting , the leader directly spoke to my concern about rigidity or too great a list of essentials.  More and more it feels like neither I nor even Biblical scholars have all the answers.  God is simply bigger, greater, more powerful, more knowing, than that.  He has revealed much in His Word and we can know God by knowing Jesus, but I really think that we will just never know it all, not even in heaven because He will still be that same God and we will be worshiping Him because He is GREAT! 

     I love all the traditional favorite verses in the Bible, but where I am right now puts Isaiah 55:8-9 firmly in my list and in the current top spot for favorites. It's the verse that says "For my ways and not your ways,” says the Lord, “neither are my thoughts your thoughts.  For as the heavens are higher than the earth so are my thoughts higher than your thoughts and my ways higher than your ways.”  I also love the quickness (aliveness) of the scriptures.  They really are new every morning, because we come to them as a different person, and thus they speak to us differently.  Don’t get me wrong, there are bottom line truths where I stand,  but my essentials list is pretty small compared to how I was raised.

In any case, I scheduled an appointment with the pastor for right after Tuesday Bible Study.  In addition to flexibility in the study, that morning the interaction and heartfelt  sharing  addressed another niggle that perhaps  studies were taught more than shared.  Learning that there was plenty of room for sharing here, and for differences of opinion, was a direct and hopeful sign.

     The meeting with the pastor went well.  He is a genuine person with a love for the Lord and for his congregation.  He holds them in esteem and wants to see people of all ages grow in their faith walk.  Three years ago the church was dying.  Today, with this pastor and strong leadership,  it is vibrant and growing.  I may be among the newest, but most of the people have been there less than three years.  It is a church that is finding its way and place in the community.  So, I have decided to join GCC and see what God has for me there.  I will wait for His call to serve.  I am excited for what might be in store.  In any case it will be good, because God is good, even if I don’t always “get it.”

Lamps and Lights

Apparently, I am supposed to learn something about lamps, lights, and myself.  . 

       As the apartment came together, one significant thing was missing – lamps.  Oh, the overhead lights provided light, the ambience was nonexistent.  An old office light on a TV table provided sufficient illumination for bedtime reading, but that look was not in the decorating scheme.   When the new nightstand arrived, the light looked…ridiculous.  The lamp from my old bedroom worked, but it got lost on the rather large nightstand purchased with the idea of additional storage as well as its primary function.   The living room gradually acquired sofa and chairs, entertainment center, end table and a bookcase but no light other than with the ceiling fan.  The situation became desperate.  The search for the perfect lamps was not going well.  Oh, not that beautiful lamps were unavailable, but at some point, cost does become a factor. Thoughts of using old lamps surfaced, but their size, shape, color and style just didn’t cut it.  Thus, the day came when something had to happen to bring light.  The answer, not high class, but sufficient, was Target and Costco. 

       Of course, when you buy at those establishments, the lamp comes in a box and needs to be assembled.  The torchiere style with reading lamp from Target was first.  Cautiously removing all parts from the well engineered packaging, I carefully and tightly screwed all the sections together, adding the glass pieces with great care.  After sliding the sofa away from the wall, I plugged it in and turned the switch.  Nothing.  Moving the plug to the other outlet accomplished – nothing .  One of the switches in the living room appears to have no purpose, but I thought perhaps it controlled the outlet, but trying every combination resulted in – nothing.   The next series of possible solutions involved light bulbs and testing them in other lamps in the outlets, and once again the outcome was – nothing.  Clearly the light was defective, and I was not happy.  Less than charitable thoughts led me to the conclusion that Target would get the assembled light back.  Packing all of it back in the foam and cardboard just was not going to happen, but since it was well past Target’s closing time, that would wait until the next morning.

       Desiring some kind of success in the lighting department, I decided to see how complicated the assembly of the table lamp for the bedroom would be.  Thankfully, it was just adding the harp and shade.  Even the light bulb was included.  As I set the lamp on the nightstand, plugged it in and turned the switch – light.  One out of two is still only 50, but I could read and then rest.

       Before heading out to Target the next morning, I just walked over and turned the switch on the lamp in the corner.  First the reading light came on, then with another twist the upper lamp alone, and the third click brought both to light..  My mind jumped to “a miracle”, and it was sort of one – though the lamp did not get changed.  The miracle was that I turned the switch in the right direction.  Undoubtedly, multiple lessons could be learned from this, but in the same week a different kind of lamp/light lesson hit home.

       In the Bible study I am doing here in Georgia, we are studying  Psalm 119.  Verse 105 is pretty famous, “Your Word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.”  Between a sermon reference to the passage earlier in the summer, and the deeper study we are doing, some new insights are coming.  In the past, people have pointed out that the kind of lamps, lanterns or torches a nighttime traveler in that era would have had to light a path would have been small.  Probably those lights would have shined only far enough to see the next step.  But the Psalmist says, it is also a light to the path, which seems to imply more than just one step.  This Psalm is all about God’s word, the commandments, precepts, laws, and ordinances God gave to the Israelites and the writer’s love for them.  As I reflected on this, it seemed to me that the more the Psalmist immersed himself in the Words Moses wrote and the ones he himself heard from God, the more light was shed on his path.  It was encouraging.  And perhaps I can tie this in with my own experience by noting that  the light will shine on your feet, your path or you living room, only if you actually turn it on by examining how you interact with it.

May your light shine today.

The Varsity

                The boxes of books in the closet are among the impediments to actually getting settled.  Thus, a trip to IKEA was in again in order.  Their bookcases range in price from truly cheap to those that cost quite a bit more, but look like real furniture.  One of each will have to do.  The books that don’t fit will simply disappear.  Should that happen, the day will be sad, as I like books. 

                Friday’s trip to IKEA was indeed successful, and it led to a little downtown Atlanta adventure.  The holy grail of fast food and the world’s largest drive-in is The Varsity, a “greasy spoon” diner serving the Georgia Tech campus, and apparently the rest of Atlanta, Georgia and the southeast US not to mention visitors from around the country and around the world.  When we decided the IKEA’s meatballs just aren’t as good as they used to be, I asked to go to The Varsity to see what all the hype was about.

                As we shuffled our way through downtown traffic, Beth said, “Before we go, I should tell you that they yell at you there.” I think she was a little nervous about my reaction to the rather chaotic scene that was coming.  After one wrong turn and a little more traffic dodging, Beth exclaimed, “There it is!”  All that I could see was a sizeable two level parking ramp, and said so.  With a chuckle, Beth responded, “Yeah, that’s it.”  The bottom level was full so we headed to the second level which lead us by the actual drive-in portion of the restaurant.  We had already opted for the air-conditioned dine-in option.  As we drove past the cars lined up and the car-hops delivering burgers or dogs to the cars, I noted that these were not sweet young gals or cute guys.  The car hops in their red uniforms with paper hats piled high on their heads were probably grandpas.  They stepped to their routine and really moved rapidly and efficiently.

                After parking, we entered the crowded building – full to capacity at 2:00 in the afternoon. In fact the 10-15 station ordering area was completely jam-packed.  Parties were five and six deep at every counter.  Customers must plan out their complete order before arriving at the register to order.  No changing your mind is allowed. In fact, it is indecision or slow ordering that brings on the yelling. Most of the lines move quickly, although as per usual, we picked a line where we waited and waited.  Finally, we divided and thus conquered as Beth moved to another line and actually got through before the lady ahead of us was served.  The menu was pretty basic. Most people either hot dogs or burgers, though a couple of chicken items were available.  But if you are going for an experience, why would you order chicken salad?

                The burgers were fairly small, but with really fresh ingredients; the cool limp fries wouldn’t bear comparison with your favorite fast food restaurant; but the thick, hot, crispy onion rings tasted wonderful.  Obviously, they came directly from a sufficiently hot fryer so the oil did not soak into the batter.  Delicious and worth another order to share.

                But the Varsity is less about the food and more about the experience.  The diners’ faces reflected the world.  The rainbow of color came in people’s skin, hair, and clothing.  Different languages  slipped by as patrons headed for their tables.  This variety accurately reflects the city itself.

                The Varsity is indeed a unique experience, one shared at some time by a host of the rich and famous including a number of past presidents and rulers of the world, actors, musicians, athletes, and even Elvis.  The brochure claims that on average “two miles of hot dogs, a ton of onions, 2,500 pounds of potatoes, 5,000 fried pies and 300 gallons of chili are made from scratch daily.  They opened in 1928, and of course, Coca Cola has always been the beverage of choice. 

Plantation Visit

                Yesterday marked the beginning of exploring the sights of northern Georgia.  My new home area is filled with significant history from the early days of our country through the Civil War (aka The War of Northern Aggression) to Martin Luther King to Jimmy Carter to Newt Gingrich. 

                To digress a bit, those of you who live back in Minnesota may smile, but I witnessed some of the strong feelings about the Civil War first hand when a man giving a devotional  remembrance for the Fourth of July.  He was reading a list of quotes from presidents and famous people in American history related to our country giving God His due and honoring God as a nation.  All were thought provoking and affirmed a strong sense of leaders who recognized that their success would come from a blessing of God on their efforts.  After a number of quotes, the gentleman pulled off his glasses and spoke of finding it difficult for a Confederate like him to read the next quote.  Replacing the glasses and taking a deep breath, he quoted Abraham Lincoln.

              I learned a little more of that when we were searching for a short day trip since Beth didn’t have her little summer “day care” charge for a couple of days.  I thought a plantation visit would be fun, and with the typical arrogance of one who does not know, assumed there would be something quite close by.  That notion was quickly dispelled when one of the search results talked about all the lack of plantation houses and other artifacts of pre-Civil War Atlanta.  Though Georgia was one of the 13 original colonies, Atlanta was not founded until 1836 and not incorporated as a city until 1847. Though no major rivers or waterways that typically mark great cities are present in the area, Atlanta grew to become a major city because it served as the central hub for four southern railroads.  And for this reason, Sherman marched to Atlanta, the commercial and transportation center of the south, to burn and destroy it and thus disable the Confederacy.  Though hospitals and churches were spared, the rest of the city was burned to the ground. 

                The closest plantation house was in Jonesboro, southeast of Atlanta, so we headed to Stately Oaks, one of three plantation style houses which served as inspiration for Tara of Gone with the Wind fame.  The home was actually dismantled from its original location and moved to an area that is being developed as a museum by Clayton County.  The site currently houses an old store from the late 1800s, a fireplace from Margaret Mitchell’s home, a small Cree Indian village, and the Greek Revival house with several accompanying outbuildings, like the kitchen, laundry, and outhouses.

                The young gentleman who was out tour guide shared many interesting facts about the home and its owners, the movie, and the culture of the times through which the house stood.  As we went through the rooms, and he described how that room and its contents were used, he connected many of their cultural actions to quotes we throw around like “marking time” or “it’s snowing down south.”  I’ll have to go back with pencil and pad to get them all, though a few might have been stretched a little.  While the site was about what you’d expect from a little county museum depending primarily of donations for their work, it was a nice introduction to the area and awakening of the desire to learn more about this beautiful place I am coming to call home.

                When we finished the tour at 2:30, our stomachs were in revolt, so we hastened to a little store front cafe called Gina’s Bistro.  The extensive menu of sandwiches, soups, salads, and meals  was printed on several blackboards above the ordering counter.   The myriad of choices available in the little bistro boggled the mind, but hunger called for quick decisions.   Beth and Katie chose sandwiches, which were full of good fresh ingredients.  They obviously didn’t carefully pull apart exactly three pieces of ham to make Katie’s sandwich.  I chose a soup and sandwich combination with homemade vegetable beef soup that was among the best I’ve ever had, perhaps at the top. Oh, it was good, even on a warm Georgia day. 

Of Progress and Peaches

The problem with progress is that we don’t define it properly.  Or perhaps that is just a personal failing.  Too often my mind thinks that if it isn’t DONE, progress is nonexistent.  That’s not true; progress implies movement, an ongoing journey, if you will.  So, I am not completely settled, but my new home is evolving.  Certainly, it is fully functional: I can cook, eat, sleep, wash sheets, watch TV in high definition (very cool by the way), surf the net, come and go, sweep, vacuum, read, shower, study, and find most things. Only a few boxes and bins await a permanent placement. Some clutter is even beginning to accumulate, which is certainly counterproductive. Friends’ prayers and encouragement certainly helped.

            Lamps and window coverings are the main projects left.  Today, Beth and Bill hauled in my new nightstand, the one new piece that is REAL furniture, i.e. not from IKEA or Kohl's.  On the other hand, Beth told me that indeed I did have something to bequeath to her – the new sofa, even if it was falling apart in 30 years.  Now that’s a delightful thought – she really enjoys the sofa and could put up with me for 30 years.  I should be so blessed – actually, I think I am.

            On an entirely different note, Georgia is the Peach State. Since arriving, I’ve been waiting for real Georgia peaches.  A couple of weeks ago, the sign said it was so, and I selected a few peaches. Perhaps they came from the Georgia that was part of the former Soviet Union, because clearly they were picked well before they were ripe. Peeling them was rather like scraping a knife against wood. Each slice of the knife was audible and raspy.  Barely a drip fell to the counter.  Chewing them could perhaps be compared to munching celery.  But this week, the peaches were finger kissing good.  The knife slipped easily between the skin and the flesh of the peach.  The juice covered my hands as the sweet fragrance drew me into the experience.  Each bite almost melted in my mouth.    The taste was worth the wait.  Hopefully, more will come.  Perhaps that fruit of Eden was not an apple, but a peach - a real sweet Georgia peach.