spring break

Thanks to a spur of the moment decision to take Friday off, I packed up my camera and headed for the Woodburn Tulip Fest today. My kids were otherwise engaged (with their pillows) and Steve had to work (poor thing) so I took some longed for solo time. I dropped the dog off at the beauty shop and got to the tulip fields before the dew dried. If you live in the area and want adorable Easter pictures of your kids - go here! Go this weekend while the blooms are gorgeous.

I was done by the time the crowd started getting thick and in the way. On the way home, I stopped by the Settlemier House in Woodburn to take a few more pictures and dropped the newspapers that have been sliding back and forth in the back of my car for two weeks at the church.

This was a GOOD day.

george fox journal reflection

The following is a small portion of a reflection paper I wrote for class recently. To say that Fox was a radical is an understatement. I’m certain that I would not have liked George Fox had we ever met. At the same time, I have a deep appreciation for him. He set the pendulum swinging back in the right direction and I realize that only a cataclysmic personality could do something so drastic given the times he lived in.

George Fox begins his journal with these words, “That all may know the dealings of the Lord with me.” I am impressed with Fox’s radical obedience to God while at the same time wonder if I would have listened to him myself. Madman or saint? At times it’s difficult to say which Fox was, especially in his early years, except for the trusted testimony of those close to him. I admire Fox’s vision, tenacity, reliance on Christ our present teacher, his single-mindedness, intellect and willingness to provide strong and discerning leadership to the early movement. The infrequency of sensing ‘the Lord’s power over all’ in our time is what disturbs me most when reading the journal now.

Some qualities that enabled Fox to become a formidable leader were his relentless pursuit of Christ himself. Fox’s spirituality is marked with an extraordinary ability to listen to the Light within. Fox’s every word and deed appear bathed in the same powerful Spirit he preached of.

By definition, Fox was a prophet, mystic, reformer, and Pentecostal/revivalist. He was gifted with spiritual and moral insight, he believed it possible to have direct knowledge of spiritual Truth, his endeavor lent itself to both church and social reforms, he called for a return to the early church and embraced expressive worship and the spiritual gifts of everyone. I don’t think he aspired to be those things. I think he became those things because he aspired to be obedient to God.

The Journal reminds us of more than just our Quaker roots. Today it serves to point us toward the power of Christ, our Teacher within that can be accessed by anyone. It kicks our religion out of the church building into the community where it belongs. It calls us all to listen to and respond to the Spirit. It reminds us to care for each other and for creation. And, maybe most importantly, it demands we not let our leaders do our seeking for us lest we forget what we’re looking for or, worse, come to feel we need not seek Him any more.

Do we really want to go back to our roots or let our roots inform our future? What do you think?

ahhh sunshine...

Is anyone else super excited about this? We had two glorious days of sunshine this week.

madd

My hands were still shaking when we got home tonight. We’d just dropped my car off in Mac for repairs and were driving the back roads home when we ended up behind a red Ford Taurus, Oregon license XMT 490, that was using the double yellow as a sight line. When he (or she) wasn’t in the center of the road, he was off the pavement on either side. When he turned toward town on North Valley Road we decided to call the police and Newberg’s finest stood ready for him to cross the city limits. Unfortunately, he crossed College onto Bell Road instead and after he passed Zimri Drive they transferred me to the county Sheriff’s department.

Just past my parent’s house, he missed the first sharp turn and went off the road on the left. Going too slow to do any damage, he corrected enough to start up the curves on the wrong side of the road. Winding slowly up Chehalem Mountain, sometimes at 20 miles an hour, we watched as he crossed the line multiple times, stopped in the middle of the road to let an oncoming car pass, and miss the T at Mt. Top and Bell, correcting enough to get back onto Bell in the wrong lane.

He turned off Bell at the food-processing plant in the dip just before the Washington County line. Unfortunately there were no deputies in the vicinity. We found a place to turn around, relayed the address to the dispatcher as we passed it on our way back and headed home – past my parents house, where they sat safe and sound in the front room reading, and eventually into our own driveway where our kids, thank God, were snug as bugs.

I can't tell you how many times I've come barreling down Bell Road. My cousins lived at the top and before we could drive, we rode our bikes back and forth. When Steve is driving, I can picture our exact location with my eyes closed just from the feel of each turn, rise and dip. This guy has messed with my world and I resent it.