Star Valley

The three of us recently took a short trip to Star Valley, Wyoming. I've often heard people refer to places they love and consider beautiful as God's Country. Star Valley is God's Country for us. Don't be surprised if we decide to move there one day.

We stayed in a cozy little cabin at the north end of Afton. It was kind of a last minute excursion and the best part was that we had no agenda. We did whatever we wanted which amounted to eating a lot, trying to fish (the Salt River was too high and was moving too fast and I kept having visions of Marshall getting swept down the river in a matter of seconds), reading (I read, Jesse played his guitar), hiking, a little shopping, and relaxing.

As we were driving along a road that led to Bridger National Forest we happened along an alpaca farm. There was a guy standing outside the little red barn who saw us looking and motioned for us to come over. We pulled over and saw a little baby alpaca with his mom. The guy told us that the baby was only 30 minutes old. Talk about being in the right place at the right time. It was so cute to see this wobbly little animal trying to stand on it's skinny little legs. (If you are eating while reading this or just have a weak stomach I suggest that you stop reading because this will get a little gross.) The baby was so new it was still wet and the mother had not even delivered the placenta yet. She delivered it while we were there and that was when Jesse decided it was time to go; the man can only handle so much. After we got in the car Marshall said "She has a balloon on her butt." Which is exactly what it looked like.

On our way home we stopped at a fun playground in Bear River. Marshall loved this horse swing. They sell these at CAL Ranch and I keep trying to convince my parents that they need one for their barn.

We had a blast and we plan on making Star Valley a regular getaway for us.

A Night Out with The Eagles and the Old Timers

Okay, they weren't that old; in their fifties and sixties mostly.

This past weekend Jesse and I had a most interesting experience at the Eagles concert. We went with my mom and dad and a few of their friends, not to mention the other twenty friends my parent's happened to run into that night. I can't go anywhere with them without running into someone they know.

Before this concert, if you were to ask me what songs The Eagles sang I would only be able to tell you "Hotel California". After going to the concert I realize they sing a lot of songs that I know and like; I just didn't realize they were Eagles songs.

I was expecting it to be a really mellow night of relaxing and listening to some older music, then my dad started talking about how everyone would be standing through the whole concert. I told him I didn't think they would. He told me how he and my mom went to a KISS concert when they were younger and everyone stood through the whole thing. I said, "That was thirty years ago. Now everyone is old and arthritic." My dad wisely replied while holding up his beer, "Yes, but this is arthritis medicine." He was right. Those old timers stood through the whole concert! I was worn out by the end and they were all still raring to go.

It was crazy. They were standing on chairs, dancing in the aisles, breaking the ties holding the chairs together so they could have more room to sit, and, of course, there was that oh so identifiable smell of marijuana drifting through the stadium. And I thought I was going to spend a nice, wholesome evening with my parents. The concerts Jesse and I have been to have all been very mild in comparison.

One thing I found very interesting is how friendly they all were. By the end of the night everyone around us was talking like they were old friends and my dad had even been given a few nicknames. I told my mom that was a big difference between their generation and my generation. The girls my age just kind of stare each other down and the guys are too busy being cool. There's no attempt to be friendly with strangers. We tend to stay in our little bubbles. Maybe that's one area where I should start to imitate my parent's crazy generation. **Note to self: Be more friendly.**

It was a fun night and a big thanks to my dad for buying us the tickets.

Naughty Horn

Our neighbor plays an uncommon musical instrument and on occasion can be heard practicing outside. It's the kind of instrument that just fills the air with music and we can't quite tell from which direction its coming.

Jesse and Marshall were hanging out on the deck listening to the music from this instrument the other day. The next day Marshall was telling me about the "naughty horn" he and daddy had heard on the deck the night before.

I couldn't quite understand what he was talking about so after a little probing I figured it out. I first realized he was not talking about a horn but a pipe. This naughty pipe could also be described as bad.

Can you figure out what musical instrument he was talking about?

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It was the bagpipes! Or, according to Marshall, the bad pipes.

Let's Go Fly a Kite

Marshall is afraid of the wind. He yells at it to stop when it's blowing and runs for the house if it gets too windy when he's outside. One day when it was windy at the playground, he curled up on my lap so scared while my niece was happy as a lark to have the wind blowing through her hair while she ate her grapes. I tried to explain to him that God is the One who controls the wind and that He cares more about him than even Mommy or Daddy. That helped a little but then Grandpa Dick and Uncle Richard found out about his fear and, in my family, you never want to show your weaknesses because they will be completely exploited; even if you're two.

In my effort to cure him of that fear I thought I would get him a kite to show him that the wind can be fun. I let him pick out the one he wanted and he chose Thomas the Train.

I decided to undertake this little wind intervention in Erda because all that wind has to be useful for something. After hiding around the side of my parent's house for a few minutes he finally let his guard down and joined the fun with Grandma Lisa. He was totally relaxed flying it and sat so content in my lap as we flew it together.

I think my intervention worked!

On a side note, my mom and I took him to a playground and there was a couple there with a little girl for Marshall to play with. As Marshall was walking up the stairs to play he was counting each stair he took, "One, two, three..." The lady there commented to Marshall about how smart he was and right on cue Marshall launched into his repertoire of knowledge with "A, B, C, D..." I couldn't have trained him to perform better even if I tried.

Who's Afraid of the Poop Monster?

MY DAD!!

He came through in a pinch and watched Marshall for me yesterday all by himself. This is quite the feat for a man who could probably count on one hand the number of times he has changed a diaper. He had to add to that number yesterday.

While visiting my grandpa in the hospital, Marshall did the worst thing he could possibly do with my dad in charge. He pooped his pants. After asking several nurses if they would change him and getting the response "Are you serious?" my dad finally decided to cowboy up and change the diaper himself. I have proof.

Yes, that is my dad in the picture and, yes, he is wearing surgical gloves. But he did it and I'm so proud of him. And here is the after picture that shows he survived the horrendous experience and lived to tell about it.But the panic didn't end there.

Later that day, I received a phone call from him at work. Our conversation went as follows:

Dad: "Christa, I put Marshall down for a nap. Why won't he go to sleep?"

Me: "Well, what's he doing?"

Dad: "He's standing up in the crib crying."

Me: "How long ago did you lay him down?"

Dad: "About 30 seconds ago."

Me: "Calm down, Dad. Give him a few minutes and he'll fall asleep."

All things considered, my dad was a great babysitter. Although Marshall may have been hanging upside down from the handle in my dad's truck with his pants off when I arrived to pick him up, at least he had a clean diaper on.

Book Review of "The Shack"

At one point The Shack by William P. Young was going around as the latest craze within the "Christian circles" so I was immediately intrigued. I wanted to read it, if anything, just to know what all the fuss was about. I know this review comes a little late in the game but I figured I might as well express my opinion on it. It's been a while since my last post and since I have nothing else on the horizon to blog about, a book review will have to suffice.

Just to give you a little bit of an idea of what this book is about, this is the description on the back cover:

"Mackenzie Allen Philips' youngest daughter, Missy, has been abducted during a family vacation and evidence that she may have been brutally murdered is found in an abandoned shack deep in the Oregon wilderness. Four years later in the midst of his Great Sadness, Mack receives a suspicious note, apparently from God, inviting him back to that shack for a weekend.

Against his better judgment he arrives at the shack on a wintry afternoon and walks back into his darkest nightmare. What he finds there will change Mack's world forever.

In a world where religion seems to grow increasingly irrelevant "The Shack" wrestles with the timeless question, "Where is God in a world so filled with unspeakable pain?" The answers Mack gets will astound you and perhaps transform you as much as it did him. You'll want everyone you know to read this book!"

Now on to my review.

I had a very hard time with this book. I didn't really care for the story line let alone the theology that was portrayed in it. I know it is fiction but it is fiction trying to pass itself off as Biblical theology and that is where I have a problem with it. When it is sold at the Christian bookstore I tend to have more of an expectation that it will be a little more theologically accurate. If someone who was not very familiar with the God of the Bible was to read this book they would get a skewed idea of who He is.

I'm no theologian but I have read my Bible and do know a little something about it. A few specifics that bothered me:

-A lack of respect and awe when face to face with the Creator of the universe to the point where Mack (the main character of the book) feels okay to even curse in front of God.

-Papa (the author's name for God in the book) telling Mack when they first meet that they will do things "on his (Mack's) time and on his (Mack's) terms." We do things God's way; not each person choosing what's right for him. "There is a way that seems right to a man, but in the end it leads to death" is repeated twice in the Bible, once in Proverbs 14:12 and again in Proverbs 16:25.

-The idea that there is no submission to authority within the Trinity. The author even portrays it as sinful to think that there is any authority within the Trinity. A few verses that completely contradict that are 1 Cor 11:3, 1 Cor 15:28, John 6:38 and John 8:28. Those verses do not mince words that God the Son is subject to God the Father. The author portrays that there cannot be equality if there is authority involved.

-God the Father being portrayed in human form. In John 4:24 we read "God is spirit, and those who worship Him must worship in spirit and truth." Jesus was God in human form, not the Father.

There is more but I think I'll leave it at that. If you've read it, let me know your opinion. If you haven't read it, I still welcome your thoughts.

Photo Tag - Grandpa Louie

I was tagged by my friend Stefanie to pick the sixth picture in my sixth folder in My Pictures and blog about it. Well, it may surprise some of you that my pictures do not have individual folders. They are in one folder in a huge, jumbled, unorganized mess. I feel like Monica from Friends when Chandler discovers the messy closet. As a result, I'm going to have to go with the sixth picture in my only folder.

This is my Grandpa Louie on Christmas day at his house in 2007. He is my dad's father. The most amazing thing about my grandpa is that he has been a wonderful father and grandfather in spite of the fact that he was under no obligation to fill that role. It was his choice. He is not my dad's biological father but he chose to adopt him when my father was about two years old. I praise God for placing this good ole' Magna boy in my family. He as been a wonderful influence in all our lives. This picture is really so great because it captures him doing something that I will forever remember about him - whistling. Grandpa Louie is constantly whistling whenever he does anything from puttering around the house to doing some kind of wood working project. I love you, Grandpa Louie, and your whistling too!