Church at 30,000 ft.

Today I was flying and, due to there being no movie on the flight, decided to listen to a podcast on Romans 1:18-32. The sermon was exceptionally good but was hard to hear because it was about the fact that, left on our own, we not only worship ourselves but do terrible things to each other. As the preacher is listing many of the horrific examples of our utter and total depravity I am suddenly very aware that I'm sitting between two men and I'm traveling alone. It occurs to me to be fearful. And then, as though on cue, the man next to me starts singing Amazing Grace.

He can't possibly know what I'm listening to for two reasons: one-I'm using my earbuds and two-he's asleep! I noted this fact by using my masterful skills of deduction and observation. Also, he was snoring and drooling moments before and after the song. And his eyes were closed and... He was singing in his sleep, ok! The point is that he had no idea what I was going on in the seat 3cm from him.

But God, who is rich in mercy, knew exactly what was on my heart. You see, the man next to me shared with me earlier in the flight that he just lost his wife...yesterday. I was sitting there trying to figure out how to minister to him and he ministers to me, in his sleep no less! He had just suffered great loss yet he sings about God's grace. Tears filled my eyes as I imagined this was exactly the same hope the author of the old hymn was expressing when he penned the profound lyrics to "It is well with my soul". What a powerful reminder and incredible blessing. While I was dead, Christ made me alive by His grace. He loves me despite myself. He loves me and cares about the smallest details of my life. Amazing. Thank God there was no movie on that flight.


A few days after this flight God showed me an even deeper lesson...

God is bigger than my fears. Even if something horrific happens to me, He's still bigger than all of it. He can be trusted to be in control of everything. He is almighty God, maker of heaven and earth. He can breath life into dust and He can cue a sleeping man to sing of His amazing grace at the precise moment I needed comfort. He addresses my fears, He doesn't brush them off. He pays attention, always. "He never grows weak or weary. No one can measure the depths of His understanding." He is absolutely everything that I need.

my first costume/birthday party

It was the moment I knew my party was a success.

The night before I felt like calling it off. I was too nervous that it would flop and be boring. But it was too late to back out gracefully because I'd sent out invitations and had been talking about it for weeks. I was going to have a birthday party. There was no getting around it. "Can't go around it! Gotta go through it!" The words of 'Goin on a bear hunt' swirled in my head.

I wasn't sure how it would go with all my worlds colliding but I knew I loved everyone who I invited and I hoped they would at least tolerate each other. They did much better than tolerate, they seemed to get along pretty well!

I knew I was having a wonderful time but I wasn't sure how they rest of them felt until that moment. The one that blew my worries and expectations away. "Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably (exceedingly abundantly above) more than all we ask or imagine" I almost missed it. Had the wind changed a moment earlier or the crowd gone outside a moment later, it would've been too loud for me to overhear the conversation that took my silly party to whole other realm of beautiful.

The moment I keep referring to was a simple yet powerful discussion between my dad and another dad. These two men are completely different in almost every way. Though separated by 25 years in age and walking vastly different lives they have one powerful thing in common. They each have a son with a developmental disability. This commonality bonds them in a unique way and they can talk about their experiences.

I didn't hear the whole conversation but I didn't need to. What is sealed in my heart as treasure are my dad's words "when he was diagnosed I had a family member come up to me and ask what sin I had committed". It wasn't the words themselves that blew me away but the fact that my dad was sharing that painful memory with a man he'd known for all of 25 minutes. He rarely talks about those days, and never with new people.

It has long been a dream of mine to bring parents, especially dads, together who have wisdom and empathy (not pity) to share with one another. The thought hadn't crossed my mind that it could happen at my costume birthday party amidst food, games, and music. But there it was happening before my very eyes! I'm just so very glad I didn't miss it.

Here are a bunch of pics from the best birthday I've had since last year ;) enjoy!!

I made my invitations because I had a specific look in  mind and didn't want to pay for it.

Mary Poppin's tape measure

my mom and my (honorary) sister Jen
(my mom's still learning how to take selfies)

Mary Poppins, Bridesmaid, Blind Referee
these two will do almost anything for me :)

Vicky, my friend and coworker 

Cousins 

these two boys make me so happy
Logan came as Captain America
Jeremiah came as Spiderman
I get to hang out with them each week at church. They teach me a lot.

Emma came as Belle
(She's Logan's little sister.)

The wonderful Dewey Family

This picture just makes me smile every time.

Superheros!

The serious picture...

and the silly picture.
(I labeled them in case you couldn't tell them apart. hehe)

Yolanda
aka Jeremiah's mom
aka my weekly dose of encouragement

the kids were pretty tired of posing at this point but they still humored me

I can always count on Caleb to be silly with me 

What's a Mary Poppins party without chalk outlines drawings?

my favorite picture of the day
both our dreams came true;
He got to have a long white beard and I got to be Mary Poppins

It really was practically perfect in every way. :)

cupcakes and relationship advice

Sometimes I have conversations with God that go something like this:

God: Hey how bout you become friends w that girl and give her advice about her relationship w her boyfriend?

Me: No thank you.......Really Lord? 

God: Yep. 

Me: So the fact that I've never had a boyfriend makes me perfect for this, right? (I'm sarcastic sometimes)

God: Yes it does. 

Me: This is crazy. 

God: I can see how it'd looks that way to you. But remember this important fact, we've been together for over 30 years. 

Me: That’s true but it's only because You're perfect. 

God: I know. And I can't dwell in unholiness, remember?

Me: Ya. You have taught me a lot about loyalty, trust, honesty, and true love. You've been and will always be all of those things and more to me. 

God: Yes indeed. I will always be with you, even while you're talking to that woman about her marriage and to that other woman about parenting. 

Me: This makes no sense to me but here I go. Please help me to sound sincere without any trace of hurtful judgement or conceit. 

God: I will be with you always. 

A few moments later…

God: How bout you make some cupcakes for your coworkers?

Me: What? Really? I don't even like cupcakes. They don't taste good to me and if I ever take a bite I feel sick from all the sugar. 

God: Bake them anyway. 

Me: So let me get this straight, You're asking me to advice people about their love lives and make them desserts? Neither of which I have any personal experience or expertise in?

God: You’re quick, you're very quick. (He's sarcastic sometimes too.)

Me: Oh my word Lord, here goes nothin!

God: I will be with you always.

He is a change-your-life amazing kid

Happy Birthday to one of my favorite boys is all the world! I got to hold him just days after he was born and he still lets me hold him and squeeze him whenever we are together. He is always ready to play and is quick to be encouraging, kind, and silly. Though he is young, he has been through some really scary and hard things in his life. But he knows deep in his heart that his Redeemer lives because he has called out to God to help him and he has felt the hand of Jesus holding his. He has wisdom and insight far beyond his 7 years and, at the same time, he has the beautiful innocence of a child, a WILD imagination, and an amazing sense of humor.

So, Hudson Joseph Hahn, happiest of birthdays to YOU! I thank my God every time I think of you and I pray that Jesus will continue to show people His love through you. I can't wait to see you and do something silly together!

I love you so very much Hudson!

Love,
Beffy

Read it.

I love a good book. You know, the kind that surprises you by how gripping it is from the first page to the last. The kind that sticks, sinks deep, and changes you for the better. This kind of book propels me forward and awakens my mind to both new ideas and ancient truths. I love the feeling of satisfaction that comes with completing such a book. Shakespearean lines come bubbling out of me like "parting is such sweet sorrow" and "it is better to have read and finished than to have never read at all" Ok, I changed that second one slightly. (I get a little dramatic to say the least.)

My favorite books are the ones that make me cry tears of praise to my heavenly Father. When I read a book and start singing or crying, I know I'm reading a book written by someone who knows the same Jesus that I know. I know the author has accepted the same love and grace that I have. I recognize Jesus in him/her and it never fails to make my heart soar. He's real. Jesus is real. He's living and active and working in the lives of people all over the world. 

Today I finished the book that prompted this post. It is entitled Gospel Patrons: People Whose Generosity Changed The World by John Rinehart. Read it. I know you'll love it.

Psalms

Psalm 23

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want. 

He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he restores my soul.

He guides me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake.

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, 

I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.

You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. 

Surely goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

My Psalm

The Lord is my provider. I shall not be in want.

He leads me through the valley of the shadow of singleness. He never leaves me or forsakes me. 

He restores my soul.

With my family and friends, He comforts and upholds me.

Through the love and admiration of children, He makes sense of my life.

His unmerited favor, faithfulness, sovereignty, and love give me atonement and eternal salvation.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

Open letter to fathers who say they will lock their teenage daughters up or will greet a boy at the door with a shotgun.

Please stop saying that. It makes you sound like a coward and a fool. Neither of which you are.

Also, I don't like it. Here's why:


1. You're exaggerating. You don't actually want your daughter to be locked away in a homemade prison.

2. You don't actually plan on shooting anyone.

3. It's hypocritical for a father to say that all men are untrustworthy. If you want your daughter to trust you, don't tell her all males shouldn't be trusted.

4. You don't really want your daughter to be single her whole life. You want her to get married and have grandchildren that you can tell all your amazing stories to.

What you actually want is for your daughter to be treated with respect and admiration. What you want is for her to have healthy, mature relationships. You even want her to have sex and enjoy it. You want her to have wisdom, self-worth, and confidence in all areas of her life.

5. You are her role model for how a woman should be treated. Loving her mom is the single loudest and most direct message you can send. Louder than any lecture and more effective than aiming a shotgun at any boy.

6. Teach and train. Don't hide behind empty threats and hollow words. Teach her what a good man is so she can distinguish between trash and treasure in a heartbeat. Teach her that there are men in the world who have been taught by their fathers how to be honorable. Train her to recognize and accept protection and love, not how to live in fear of what men will do to her.

7. Don't expect her to disobey and please don't expect her to fail. Don't forbid her from talking to boys and then give her birth control.

8. Be honest about some of your fears. Of course, you don't want her to get hurt or abused! Of course, you want her to be protected from harm! These are the qualities daughters cherish in their fathers. Don't deny your fatherly instinct to protect. Teach your daughter where that instinct comes from and who you turn to when you are afraid. We are all vulnerable in this world. Being locked in rooms guarded by men with guns doesn't change that fact.

On behalf of daughters everywhere, thank you for your  kind attention to this matter.

Am I supposed to love or hate disabilities?

Disabilities cause pain and I hate pain. Pain hurts and causes me to feel very uncomfortable and motivates me to go to great lengths to seek out ways to get rid of it. This line of thinking has caused me to dig deeper into the abyss that is my relationship with disabilities. Do I love or hate disabilities? And do I have to choose?

I love how someone with Down syndrome can cross social and cultural barriers to convey the love of God to people that would have absolutely refused to listen to anyone else. How can I hate something that produces miracles?

I hate how someone with autism can have such difficulty with touch that he can't accept a hug from his own mother or have such difficulty with speech that she can't say 'dada'. How can I love something that produces rejection?

I love how someone with cerebral palsy can urge entire communities and even nations to be more physically fit, to move in any way they can, and to focus not on limitations but on possibilities. How can I hate something that produces hope?

I hate how someone with an intellectual disability can have an adverse reaction to something and, not only ruin the day for everyone, but ruin the experience forever for everyone around him. How can I love something that produces deep seeded pain and resentment?

I love how someone with multiple disabilities can inspire the creation of an entire organization that is designed to bring out and celebrate the champion in her. How can I hate something that produced the special Olympics?

I hate how someone with a seizure disorder can be so controlled by the eminence of another convulsion and so uncertain of how the next seizure will affect her that she feels like a prisoner in her own body. How can I love something that produces so much fear?

So do I hate disabilities? When I see and experience the excruciatingly loud intense pain they cause, I really really do. In those moments of wanting to cover my ears, yell, and/or rock in a corner, I would choose to take away everyone's disabilities. In a heartbeat. In my human foolishness, I would. I'd also make my legs thinner, improve my social skills, and give myself a sense of direction (I get lost...a lot) but those are different subjects. Or are they the same? If I had a magic wand and my own human wisdom the only guarantee is that I'd make everything worse. Just like King Solomon. 

The most beautiful miracle is that sometimes disabilities are what show me the face of God. His very nature and character of Love and His unmerited favor shine through in our most unlikely characteristics. 

Having a terrible sense of direction has caused me to rely on God for direction. He literally directs my paths and has made Proverbs 3:5&6 come alive in my life on a daily basis.

Turns out I don't have to declare love or hate for disabilities or for pain because what I have seen as evil, God has redeemed and used for good. What a relief! Hallelujah! 

Recognized

It happened again this weekend. I was recognized by a complete stranger, not for who I am, but for who my parents are.

For most of my life I have been irritated by this situation. I felt like people didn't know who I was, they just assumed they knew me because they knew my parents. I wasn't seen as me but as my parents' daughter. If my face wasn't recognized, my last name would be. For many years I would introduce myself just by my first name and only say my last name if someone specifically asked. (I still find myself doing that but now I think it's because Beth is easier to remember than Warkentin.)

I used to think this recognition thing would only happen in my hometown where my parents are well known. Boy was I wrong.

About 15 years ago, I was sitting in the airport terminal waiting for my flight out of LAX to Fresno when a couple, who looked about my parents'  age, approached me and said those fateful words, "Excuse us but are you Don and Janet's daughter?"

"Uh, yes..." I said very hesitantly, "Who are you?"

"Oh we're (names?). We went to high school with your parents! We knew they got married. We didn't know if they had kids or how old you would be but you look just like them so we were sure you were their daughter!" said the wife. I was too shocked to even hear their names.

"Really?!?! You could tell that from all the way across the terminal?!" I exclaimed.

"Well, ya. We were pretty sure but we looked at the passenger list to double check.  He's a pilot," she explained, pointing to her husband, "so he went over to the desk at the gate and glanced at the list. We saw you're last name and then we knew for sure!"

I was stunned. Absolutely stunned that two strangers, who didn't even know I had been born, could spot me from across a crowded airport and identify me as my parents' daughter. Incredible. I knew then that there was no denying it, I look just like them. I may as well embrace it.

In January I cut 8 inches off my hair and for the first time since infancy my hair was shorter than my mom's. Right after I got my hair cut, I went to my parents' house and was sitting across the table from my dad when he suddenly looked up from the newspaper and said, "You're beautiful." This statement immediately made me suspicious because all my life he has made it a point to compliment my character instead of my appearance. Then it hit me. I squinted my eyes, tilted my head, and said accusingly, "I look just like mom, don't I?" Yep. Spitting image. I could feel it. I wasn't upset though. I just laughed and smiled.

I've been recognized by strangers many times since that day in the airport and each time I'm surprised by it. But each time I'm able to embrace it a little more and understand a little more deeply than it's a gift to have such an amazing heritage. I'm happy to be a Warkentin and am proud to be known as Don and Janet's daughter.

Wow. I must be growing up. ;)

The day my mom offered to sleep with my teacher

My parents let me choose which high school I went to, Immanuel or Dinuba, and when I chose Dinuba High I have a feeling that's when her dream took one step closer to becoming a reality. She would have to be patient and wait for the most opportune moment but she was no stranger to things taking awhile. She believed good things come to those who wait. She would be ready when the time was right. She didn't need to practice her line. It was perfect just as it was. 

And oh how her patience paid off! 

It was my junior year of high school. My mom and I were at Back to School Night. We had visited several classrooms and were approaching my math teacher's room when it happened. She excitedly grabbed my arm and blurted out the line I will forever remember, "You want me to sleep with your teacher so you can get an A?!?" 

Her time had come, the moment was perfect, she had delivered the line like a pro, and I wanted to wash out my ears with soap. "Ahhhhh!!! Noooo!!!", I said in protest! She didn't really hear me because she was reveling in the shear genius of her idea. 

How could my mom suddenly turn into the kind of person that would make such an offer?!? 

"Well", she said, "Anything for my kids!" This line was followed by hysterical laughter lasting several minutes. She was so amused by my adverse reaction to her offer to sleep with my teacher that she could hardly contain her laughter. 

When we walked in the room, I told my teacher what my mom had just said. (I'm such a tattle tail.) Upon hearing the offer, he looked at my mom with hope in his eyes but then shook his head and said,"I don't give away A's.", then his face brightened, as he exclaimed, "But I'll still sleep with you!"

OMG!!! My parents were out of control!!! 

I earned my own A by doing my homework and acing the tests, thank you very much! But having my dad for a math teacher sure made for memorable moments!

Congratulations on over 41 years of not only being an amazing teacher but being an incredibly honorable man! I love you Dad and I'm so proud to be your daughter...most of the time. :)

Joni and Friends Family Retreat 2014

I was so very excited when I signed up to be a Short Term Missionary (STM) at the Central California Joni and Friends Family Retreat and then came the week that almost knocked me out...

I started the week feeling nervous because of all the unknowns. Then I started feeling cocky when I was asked to explain different disabilities and how to listen and learn from the campers. Next thing I know, I'm crushed. My pride is drained. My attitude is terrible. I hate disabilities. (That feeling has reared it's ugly head only about 5 times in my life.) I was in the depths of despair and felt like I had been swallowed and deserved to stay there. I didn't know what to do or how to handle anything. Everyone around me was doing amazing work and I was knocked off the pedestal I had put myself on. It was as though I'd been competing with amateurs and always winning by a landslide and now I'd come to the Olympics where everyone was at least as good or better than me at this sport. I was blown away by the caliber of the athletes and the ease with which they were kicking my ass. I was no longer the expert, gold medal favorite, gifted, talented, saint who was the standard, the example for everyone to follow. I was ordinary. common. average. I was everything I always said I wanted to be. But when it actually happened, I was devastated, shocked, and completely uncomfortable. I wanted to leave and never look back. 

God had a much better plan, of course. He used my weakened state, my brokenness, my sorrow to help me see Him, depend on Him, & acknowledge Him in all things. He was my strength when I was weak. He was my comforter. He was my guide. He showed me that I was still finding my identity in being a sibling instead of finding my identity in Him alone. In Christ alone, I place my trust.

God is not satisfied with saving me, helping me grow, and then putting me on cruise control. His love is RELENTLESS. He showed me this week that He will never stop showing me how to depend on Him. He is faithful to allow pain to point me to Him.

After being home for about 24 hours, I realized I hope to go back next year. :)

the hills were the best

woohoo!
i like this picture simply because i look skinny :)

and up the next hill we go!
God gave me superhuman strength to push the wheelchair and explore the entire camp with Maddie.

Maddie and I having a bonding moment

She loved the therapy dogs that came to visit us at camp.

Happy Birthday Mom!!!

I was born on Halloween, my dad on Thanksgiving, and my mom was born on April Fool's Day. Yep, it's true.

The irony oozes from these dates we entered the world because I don't like candy, scary, or strangers, my dad doesn't like to be told by the calendar when to express gratitude, and my mom is no fool. 

No matter how old she gets, she remains wise beyond her years and young at heart. Her sense of humor breaks the rules of survival. Her love runs deep. Her joy is genuine. And her servant's heart is bigger than anyone's I've ever known. 

She can see the positive in absolutely anything, except in using her sewing scissors to cut plastic tags off clothes. (Don't do that. She will say your name is mud.) She can remember everything about me, except my name. She called me Na-Beth and Precious Girl a lot. Close enough. She can make 4 dozen cookies, bake 12 dozen zwiebach, and do 5 loads of laundry before I wake up in the morning. And sewing is like breathing to her. She has made me countless shirts, shorts, skirts, and the best twirl dresses a girl could dream of.

She has been in the same two Bible Study groups for over 30 years. She is an amazing friend, loyal and true.

She loves me more than I can even understand or fathom. And oh am I ever grateful that she's my mom.

Happy April Fool's Day Birthday Mom!!!!!!! I love you. You don't look a day over 64. :)

p.s. i typed this in the largest font just for you. ;)

Support Letter Ethics

It's hard for me to ask for help. Sometimes it feels like I'm allergic to it. I forget that it's even an option. I don't drink milk and I don't ask for help.

I'm happy to pour you a glass of milk, do you a favor, or even give you something of mine. Why not? It doesn't belong to me anyway and people are more important than things, right? Sure! It's easy for me to do but not easy for me to accept from others.

Enter stage right: my Easter break missions trip      

Enter stage left: the support letter

I'm in the middle of these two characters and I'm not sure what my next line is...or if this is a show down or a family reunion.

The basic contents of a typical support letter consist of a greeting, brief reminder of who the person is that's writing the letter, a description of a short term (week-10 days) or long term (months, years, lifetime) mission project or trip of some sort, and the many ways in which you can "support" the person writing the letter. You can just commit to praying for the person (silver level). You can pray and give a meager amount (gold level). Or you can pray and fill in your own extremely generous amount of money on the blank line (platinum level). If you are super holy, you will give sacrificially.

As you may have gathered already, to my ears, these letters often read like holy sales pitches, that might as well include the line "And that's not all! Give now and we'll throw in a surprise blessing!" The motivation to give then seems to come from guilt, obligation, or fear of looking unsupportive. And the letter feeling more like a test of friendship or measure of commitment to a relationship rather than a way to ask for help in a healthy way.

The issue is further complicated for me when financial support is requested by someone who doesn't seem like he needs that type of support. A grossly exaggerated example would be if Bill Gates asked me to help pay for his flight to Africa where he will be helping eradicate malaria. He doesn't need me to help him with his travel expenses but that doesn't take away from the worthiness and nobility of the cause.

So today, I posed this question to several people that I trust, "How do you feel about people asking for financial support to go on a missions trip they can totally afford to pay for themselves?"

I got so many good answers and such good feedback. I was reminded of how much priceless support I already have everyday.  I feel much better about just taking  breath and sharing what I'm going to do over spring break. So here's the scoop...

On April 13th, I will embark on what could be the best week of my life. Or it could be just like my other camp experiences, a mixture of fun, awkward and disappointment with a splash of life changing miracle. Or I might just hate it. I probably won't know until it's over on April 18th.

I'm going to the Central California Joni and Friends Family Retreat as a Short Term Missionary (STM). It's considered a mission trip because I'll be a volunteer matched up with a camper with a disability and will be his/her support person all week. I don't think I'll find out who I'm matched with until I get there. It could be a child or adult of any age and could even be a sibling of someone with a disability. All I know is that I've been wanting to do this for years! It's bucket list material. An absolute dream.

Asking people for money to fund the experience feels kinda like asking for money to go to Disneyland! I keep mulling over and over and over this question of to ask or not to ask for support. The conclusion I keep wanting to come to is no. I should pay for it myself, go about writing about my experience, and soaking in all that God has for me that week. And keep it all to myself. Ugh. That's where I keep getting stuck. Keeping it all to myself doesn't sit right with me this time. Why is that? I'm not exactly sure yet. I know part of the problem goes back to the allergy to asking for help but is there more to it than that? When does it become a team effort, in a healthy way? I don't want to automatically reject the idea of asking for support if there's some value in it that I don't recognize.

Then I go back to not wanting to talk about money. I'm no Bill Gates but at the same time I'm not worried about money either.

Then my friend Karisa said this: "You're about to spend a week helping someone else. Maybe God wants you to get a glimpse of what it feels like for your partner to ask you for help. They might struggle with that."

She got me there.

But then I was reminded of one of my core beliefs. I never want to take a task away from someone that he can do for himself, if by doing so I deprive him of his independence, strip him of his dignity, or negate his abilities. It's not respectful or kind to withhold patience.

I have the ability to fund the trip myself and I intend to do so. I do need help in other areas though and it's in those areas that I can feel good about asking for help.

Pray for me. Write me if you're excited with me. Learn more about Joni and Friends. Help me find a new swimsuit that I'm not embarrassed to be seen in (that'll be a miracle). Ask me how it went. Listen to my stories. Tell me your stories. Praise the Lord with me. Tell people you know about Joni and Friends and you may inspire someone else to be involved in missions. Who knows, one day you may even get a support letter from that person. ;)

After much debate, I realized that, for me, it all comes down to these two desires:

1. I want everyone to know about Joni and Friends Family Retreats so they can benefit from them.

2. I'd like to shout from the roof tops, "Hey Everybody! I get to fulfill a huge dream next month! I just want you to be excited with me."


There you have it...what are you thoughts???

Recite Pi

My dad has always been better than me at everything but I've always made him prove it. Just assuming that he would beat me at something was unacceptable because one day I would beat him at something. He always told me that day would come but I was always skeptical.

Take basketball for example, when I was a kid we played a game called Around the World on the basketball court in the driving way. The game involves taking turns shooting baskets from previously determined spots around the court that end up looking like a semi circle. You shoot from each spot, only moving on if you have made the previous shot. You complete the semi circle and then you take the same path back to the beginning. If you miss, it's your opponent's turn, unless of course you choose to "chance it". If you make it, then you continue. If you miss, then not only is it your opponent's turn but your next turn starts back at the beginning. The first person to make all 14 shots wins! Sounds pretty simple, right?

Well, there's more! We added a few more rules to make the playing field a little more even. I had to make the shots and I could "chance it" twice. My dad had to "swish" all of his shots, meaning the ball couldn't touch the rim, and if he "chanced it" and missed then he's automatically lose the whole game.

But wait...there's more! 

At the very end of the game, we had to recite Pi. That's right, you heard me, to win the game you had to make 14 shots and recite Pi. Okay, not all of it because it's an infinite number and we had to go inside when it was time for dinner. We just had to recite one more digit than the other person could do. My dad's a high school math teacher so guess who won this part of the game every single time? That's right, ME!! Turns out the one thing that I can do better than my dad is memorizing and reciting digits of Pi.  I know, I know...please hold your applause until all the digits have been recited.

Yes, of course I'm embarrassed. Why do you even have to ask? But I was better than him at something! Have I made it clear how very unusual that has always been?!? Also, I was little when this particular contest started and I'm pretty sure for the first few years, he was faking losing because he was so excited that he had convinced me to play along.

He and I have always played mind games like that to make the other person feel like it was probably his/her own idea to do something and not the other person's ability to use reverse psychology (or in our case reverse, reverse, reverse psychology) to make the other person participate in an activity. So if he said memorizing digits of Pi was too hard for a 6 year old then he may have meant exactly that OR he may have just issued a challenge that he'd hope I'd accept. I may have said I don't want to memorize a number that never ends but then again maybe I could win this contest. I don't usually like to be competitive but I love an evenly matched contest of almost any kind. My dad is an expert at setting such contests up.

I, of course, reached the age of being more embarrassed than proud of this random skill. So when my dad would start reciting digits of Pi, I would do my best to discourage it by acting like I couldn't hear him. But when he'd get a digit wrong, my knee jerk reaction was to shake my head to let him know that he had just "chanced it" and lost. My reaction would bring him such joy because his real goal was to prove to that I hadn't forgotten.

3.1415926535897932384626433897950

I just typed that from memory, I promise I didn't look it up. I think it might be right.

Oh, I just looked it up and I got it wrong. It's actually 3.14159265358979323846268327950.

Anyway, one summer I came home from college and my dad says to me "288, that's the next 3 digits. I know more than you now". To which I said, "No, now we're even because you just told them to me!" "Ahh, no!", he exclaimed (pretending to be exasperated when in fact he was just really glad I was home and was still willing to play his silly math games.)

Why am I telling you all of this, you ask? It's because today is March 14 or 3/14, aka Pi Day! It's the one day of the year when my dad wants to celebrate something because of what the calendar says. He's not a big fan of Christmas, Valentine's Day, Father's Day, or even his birthday because he thinks we should show love to each other every day, not just because of a date on the calendar. But all that calendar attitude disappears when the date changes to 3.14! He lets his students bring pie to school and takes time during class to pause and celebrate by eating a sweet treat. Of course he's teaching them about math during the pie cutting and eating because he just can't help but be a teacher.

Today, 3/14/14, is his last Pi Day as a teacher because he plans to retire at the end of the school year. I hope it was the best one he's ever had!

Happy Pi Day to all you nerds who actually read all the way to the end of this post! ;) Be proud of what you know, even if it just means you can do one thing better than someone way smarter than you!

The Best Dog I Ever Had

A little photo tribute to my dog. I've been missing her for exactly a year now...

Lucy Eleanor Moderatz Warkentin soaking in the sun.

she's sick and i'm crying

she comforted me

she always let me pick her up

we drove through my 20s together

she would press her nose to the window
there's still a smudge that i can't wipe away

her head tilt 

Even today, when I think of her, I am flooded with emotions but the most dominant feeling is gratitude. I am so very grateful to have had her in my life for 10 1/2 years.

Lucy was the very best dog. 

Act Cool

SHE did it!!!

That was what he told the police officer as he pointed his accusatory finger in my face. I could have punched him. The officer basically saved his life. 

I was 27 years old and Nathan was 30. We had been driving from Visalia to our parents house in Dinuba for our usual Sunday visit. I had just passed another slow driver but had forgotten the crucial step of slowing down after crossing back over the yellow line. I saw the police car pass me and do an immediate U-turn. When his lights started flashing, I knew I was guilty. 

My stomach sank. In my 9 years of driving, I'd never been pulled over before for anything. I was never even been a passenger in a car that was pulled over. So I could only reference TV and movies for how this process might go. I certainly didn’t know how he was going to react to the situation. I had no reference for how to predict what would happen next.

As I pulled my 1999 Saturn SC over to the side of the two lane country road, I said, “Nathan, I’m getting pulled over for speeding.” He sat up a little straighter but didn’t say anything.

I put the car in park and waited for the officer to appear at my window. But he didn’t.

I heard a knock but there was still no one outside my window. Oh crap!, I screamed in my head. 

“Nathan, roll down your window.” I said (sort of) calmly.

“No.” he replied.

I didn’t have power windows and my arm wasn’t long enough to reach over him to do it myself so I yelled, “Roll down your window, NOW!!

“NO!!!!” he yelled back.

“DO IT!!!!!!!!” I screamed in desperation as I heard another knock.

He extremely reluctantly rolls down his window, points across his body at me, and declares, “SHE did it!”

I could not believe my ears. I had whiplash from the lightening fast shift he made from loyal companion to narc! What a lousy, good for nothing, disloyal brother who was…absolutely right. I had done it. But I thought that was pretty obvious seeing as I was sitting in the driver’s seat and all!

I handed the officer my license, registration, and insurance card. Before the officer had walked two steps, Nathan had his window rolled right back up. Suddenly, he knew how to move fast! I started murmuring inside as we sat in silence and waited, for what felt like forever, for the officer to come back.

Knock, knock!

“Roll it down,” I said sternly

“No”, he repeated just as sternly

Seriously?? We’re gonna do this again?!?

“YES!” I hissed (okay I may have yelled it)

He rolled it down reluctantly and exclaimed once again, “SHE did it!”

Then, he showed the officer the cover of his newest CD and said the words that will forever ring in my ears. “I only listen to gospel music!”

So now I’m angry AND embarrassed. Great, just great. I’ll get him later, when there’s no law enforcement present.

The officer didn’t seem to understand Nathan’s words (thank God for difficult speech!) Or maybe he just had no idea how to respond to being shown a gospel quartet CD as proof that a passenger of a car wasn't guilty of speeding. I feel comfortable betting that particular scenario had never happened to him. In any case, he changed the subject entirely by asking, “Hey, do you know Mr. Warkentin that teaches at the high school?”

For the 3rd time in the span of a few minutes, I couldn’t believe my ears. He’s really asking about our dad while I’m sitting here on the side of the road with my disloyal brother?!? Of course he is.

“Yes”, I said, while shaking my head in shame, “we’re his kids.”

“Oh! I was his student,” the officer said

Perfect.

“Have a good day,” he said

“You too”, I mumbled back but there’s no way the officer could have heard me. You know why? It’s not because I spoke too softly. It’s because the window was already rolled up. He just can’t play along and act cool. Nope. Not Nathan.

As I pulled back onto the road he says, “I won't tell anyone.”

“OH REALLY?? NOW you’re gonna be on my side? Tell anybody you want. It’s a free country.” I huffed.

He started to repeat his promise when I abruptly cut him off with my pointer finger and said sharply, “shut up.”

He gingerly took his Signature Sound CD out of the player and put it safely in his, now infamous, case.

I turned on my music a little louder than usual. Not a word was spoken the rest of the way to Dinuba.

About 15 minutes later, he pushed past my dad and went straight to his room. My dad looks at me quizzically and asked what Nathan’s problem was. I turned to both my parents and confessed, “He’s trying not to tell you that I just got pulled over for speeding.”

Then he appears out of nowhere and all loyalty drains out of him as he points at me once again and exclaims (say it with me now) SHE did it!!

My mom tried to keep a straight face but had to put her head down to try to hide her smirk.

“That’s exactly what he told the officer!" I said. (It was my turn to tell on him.) 

My mom started to giggle.

“He said that to the officer?!?” my dad asked.

“Yep! Guess what he said after that?” I exclaimed. “You want to tell them?”, I said to Judas Nathan.

He suddenly had nothing to say.

“I want to hear what he said!” my mom said eagerly.

“He showed the police officer his CD and said, ‘I only listen to gospel music!’” I testified.

My mom almost fell out her chair from laughing so hard.

“Oh Dad, by the way, your student says hello.”

“Oh really? Who?” he asked

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s on the ticket he just gave me,” I said in exhaustion.

From that day forward, whenever my parents or I feel we are being accused of something by the other one, we invoke Nathan’s not guilty plea by putting our hands in the air and insisting “I only listen to gospel music!” 

Here it is...the I'm-not-guilty gospel music.