Wednesday, August 31


Being in a state of transition, we have not had a television set up yet in our new house (now the debate - should we or should we not??). This has kept us pretty alienated from the storm in the south. Allan and I are both news junkies, so we have kept up on the words of description, but there is nothing like seeing the pictures of pain to spur one's heart to prayer or action or empathy.

I read this response to a post on Mike Cope's blog today and thought it was very profound.
Does anyone ever notice that in most of our hymn books, and especially in the age of praise, that there is little songs of lament. One thing we as Christians need to do is lament, complain to God why this has happened, complain why tragedy must occur and why it seems that those who have the least are the ones suffering the most. As we lament, we then can, as Israel did in their Psalms of lament, hope and anticipate the redemption of God once again from this great, great tragedy. ...And maybe our prayers of lament will also move us to help in what ever means become available to us. God bless!

Saturday, August 27

Little Joys

We are settling into our new home. We have more home improvement projects than there are types of drills at Home Depot. There are moments when that realization causes a paralysis - what do I start on next?! Yet, amongst the half-empty boxes scattered everywhere, the bare walls, the painfully cracked driveway, the hideously ugly bathroom and fence that needs to be moved, I find joy in little aspects of our new home. One word: dishwasher. For the last six years I have had permanent prune-tipped fingers from hours of soaking in Palmolive. Surveys often show that couples fight about two main things: sex and money. Not us. Ours was dirty dishes. Satan found his foothold in my need to have order before retiring for the night and Allan's need to have the dish fairies take care of the evening cleaning. Getting a beautiful, shiny chrome dish drainer and a better attitude helped immensely the last year at our old house. Ah, but now we have a dishwasher. It's truly a thing of beauty and a gift from God.

Friday, August 19

I've Been Tagged...

Several days ago, Rebecca tagged me, saying I need to share my top ten music loves of the moment. This was a hard task for me; I just don't pay attention to who sings what! So I did a little research and annoyed my husband incessantly until I came up with this:
  • Warning Sign, Coldplay
  • One, Johnny Cash
  • Beautiful Day, U2
  • What Am I To You?, Norah Jones
  • Ode To My Family, The Cranberries
  • God Of Wonders, Third Day
  • Burn for You, Toby Mac
  • Sitting, Waiting, Wishing, Jack Johnson
  • 100 Year, Five For Fighting
  • Where Is The Love?, Blackeyed Peas
So, my dear fellow bloggers, I now tag Amanda, Emily, Allan, Jason & Cheryl. Remember to give your list and tag five more unsuspecting readers!

I, Kristi, take you, Allan, to be my beloved husband...

Tenth Anniversary
Ten years later and I love, respect, honor and adore you more than I ever thought possible. Thank you for loving me completely.

Tuesday, August 16

Summer Bliss

Things I love about summer...
  • fresh blackberries on my cereal
  • drying my kids off after they have insanely been jumping in the Arctic waves of the Pacific Ocean (I totally did the same thing as a child)
  • pulling weeds
  • picking blueberries (the easiest of the NW berries to pick - natural shade, no stooping & no thorns)
  • watching dragonflies and butterflies dance in the flowers
  • napping on the beach
  • the sunsets
  • barbecued corn on the cob
  • wearing sunglasses & flip-flops
  • sunlight until 10 p.m.
  • nothing on t.v. worth watching (both a love and a hate)
  • ice cream cones
  • hiking Powell Butte with my family
  • ice tea
  • watching my husband mow the lawn
  • the stars


Thursday, August 11

Marriage Bliss

I have been vindicated. Isn't it great when you really screw up, but then someone comes along and wipes it from memory with their own transgression?

As you know, we have recently acquired a little house. We are in that limbo stage of getting the house ready enough to move in, all the while biting our nails in anticipation of actually spending a night there. So, at the end of a long day, I carefully locked all of the windows and bolted the front door (we are in NE) before exiting the side door. Then Allan asked the question that made me want to beat my head bloody against the nice tan, vinyl siding of our new abode: You grabbed the keys, right? And, to remind you, I have just carefully secured the house into a Fort Knox-like structure. I really hate messing up; I generally try to avoid it. But, I have to tell you, the thing that really bugged me about this was that I could tell Allan was mad. No empathy, no it's okay honey - these things happen. Nada. Just a wisp of steam coming out of his ears as we drove back to my parent's home for the night.

Cut scene to the next afternoon. After paying Hamid $45 to jimmy my front door open in all of about ten seconds, I worked terribly hard all day turning the Santa Fe burnt orange and turquoise living room into a pleasant sage green. I had enjoyed the quiet, sans kids day of listening to NPR while working on my larger-than-life canvas. Knowing that I would have to live with my work for some time, I was as careful as one could be to not get a blip of that paint on the carpet (do you see where this is heading?) When he joined me at the end of the day, my dear husband did a great job of oohing and aahing over my work of art. He began to swiftly move across the room to point something out, when in slow-motion, I saw that he was about to field-kick the can of sage green paint that was sitting in the middle of the room to Timbuktu. My svelete ninja-like reaction was to simultaneously suck all of air out of the room with the most earth-trembling gasp you have ever witnessed, while covering my eyes with both hands. And that is where I stayed for quite some time. I couldn't look. I knew from the colorful words bouncing off of the fresh paint that danger had not been averted.

What was that about locking the keys in the house?

Monday, August 8

Uganda Missions Blog

My brother, Jeff Cash, and his family live in Ft. Portal, Uganda, East Africa, where they have been serving as missionaries for the past ten years. He has recently started a blog (he still wants to be like little sister), which I can say without hesitation, will be worth anyone's time to keep up with. Jeff is one of the most gifted storytellers I know. He's also fairly crazy, getting into dire straits that most of us would only have nightmares about - which will keep the entertainment value high as well!

Sunday, August 7

Connor Update

The last few days have revolved around a certain, adorable two-year-old boy. We had the ER visit after he hurt himself Wednesday night, we saw a specialist on Friday morning and they scheduled his "surgery" for 9:00 Friday night. That's a lot of trauma for a little guy!

They gave him a dose of something that made him very relaxed...and I mean, very relaxed. "Heeey, daddyyy! You're heavyyy." It was funny, but rather disturbing, to see my toddler stoned. It did make the handoff to the strange people much less anxiety provoking. Allan and I had not even settled on a t.v. show in the lobby ("ooh, ooh, cable!") when the doctor came to tell us everything was good. Connor woke up very mad and was inconsolable until we got him back to a Thomas the Tank Engine movie in his room. A popsicle, a few vitals and some wiggling fingers and we were headed back home.

He's doing well with his heavy arm now. Nighttime is the only trouble area, as I'm sure it's hard for him to get comfortable. Thanks for the prayers!

Friday, August 5

A Little Spill

Connor's broken arm - 1

This temporary residence that we call Earth is a violent, cold world, especially for a toddler. One day you are innocent, running amuck and diverting obstacles and danger without even being aware of their presence. Your greatest daily worry is that someone may knock your Thomas train off of its miniature little tracks. Your biggest decision of the moment is whether to dig gigantic holes in the plethora of mole mounds scattered throughout the yard or to practice the fine art of precision bubble-blowing.

My little man finally met his match. How was he to know that his slight two-year old body was no match for the onslaught of three-, four- and five-year-olds (not to mention the one twenty-seven year old), rolling like an unstoppable locomotive down the grassy embankment in a heap of arms, elbows and knees? Connor's cry of pain temporarily overshadowed by the callous and unknowing shrieks of laughter, he experienced in that moment the loneliness and betrayal reserved for those sailors lost adrift at sea or the lone mountain-climber wandering, having been separated during a blinding snowstorm from his party, his security, his future.

Connor has a broken arm - fractures in both bones of his forearm. Quite a bummer, to say the least. He is in a splint and sling now ("Take it off, Mommy!"); tomorrow we will visit the orthopedic surgeon to determine how it needs to be set and cast.

Tuesday, August 2

Home Sweet Home...Finally!

After an almost year-long pregnancy and a delivery that seemed to go on forever, Allan, the kids & I are the proud parents of a beautiful new house! It is a nice little place, with room for us to make improvements and add our personal touches. What makes this place just right for us, though, is we are now just three short blocks from PUMP and within short walking distance from so many of our friends: Lanny, Suzy & the girls; Andrew & Aimee; Ike, Kaelea & the kids; Steve, Alasha & Jonah; Amanda; Billy, Brenda & Jacob; and other PUMP folks. We are really excited to be in close proximity with these folks who mean so much to us.

Come visit us! If you come any time soon, feel free to bring along a paint brush or a hammer and we'll visit while we work!