I am not normal. By Michael Lusk

Evenin'/Mornin Bloggeroonies.  Today's entry is provided by my anything-but-normal husband.  I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

Hi. This is Michael Lusk. I’m not normal.

In fact, I am not even trying to be. My wife, as you can see, is pretty out there, too.  As you might guess, our kids are following in suite.

I suppose we just decided that our standard for life is not based on what everyone considers to be “normal”.  Sure, maybe our extreme, missionary lifestyle isn’t palatable for some, but we decided a long time ago that we are going to live “sold out” to the One who died to save us – to live like we really believe that what we say about Him is true.  That’s what has lead us into our greatest adventures and joys as a family.

Like when…

We lived in a cute little guest house with giant spiders.

We ventured out of our safe home in Michigan with our suitcases and a six-month-old baby.

Or the time we had about twenty grand in small bills on our person walking the streets of South America.

How bout the time we had to fight off the street dogs just to get groceries.

I could go on…

There are challenges when you decide to follow Him, no question.  But nothing compared to what’s it’s like blazing your own trail and calling your own shots.  Frank Sinatra said, “I did it my way.”  Well, look where that got him – dead. (OK, so everyone dies – my point still stands.) Sorry, Frankie, but your life mantra is psychotic.  No, sir.  I put my hand to the plow.  I’m never looking back.

This picture was taken in Gancedo, Chaco. (Argentina) That big rock is earth's second largest meteorite.  We stopped en-route to an open air crusade where we witnessed miracle after miracle.  Jesus is alive!

Linus or Facebook? You decide.

Linus, you've got competition. Make it good.

Feel free to send these wonderful Christmas adaptations to others. 

Click the envelope icon below.

Once again,

Merry Christmas.

'Twas the week before Christmas...

... and all through the house, not a creature was stirring... except for a bright eyed, bushy tailed, mother of three.  (up at 3:11am and feeling strangely well rested... Cue song "I believe in miracles.")  The stockings are laid on the floor with (some) care, until I figure out where to hang them, they shall remain there.  The children are sleeping all snug in my bed,  one with his feet placed against the other's head.

     And so on and so forth...

     What a gloriously beautiful morning!  As I type this blog with steaming coffee nearby, and only the magical glow from the Christmas trees (yeah, I said trees... big new house... lovin' it.) illuminating the night, I am able to think clearly without interruption for what seems like the first time in weeks...  Precious.
        This moment right here, is what I asked Santa for :)  Well, maybe it wasn't Santa... I chose a Higher Source... and it was more like begging and pleading than a simple request.  Friday night after I tucked in the bambinos, I dropped to my knees and admitted that I could use a little help.  Finances, homeschooling, presents, ministry, photography, parties, housework, unpacking, snow shoveling, and keeping two kids alive by myself... Well, 'nuff said, right?  I should've talked to God about it before, but I had a rather distorted view of prayer for a while.  Don't get me wrong.  I always pray. It's just that I  was praying about "noble" things... like our ministry partners, and starving people with aids in Africa, and the stray three legged dog that I maybe shoulda' put in my car, taken home and named, "Stooge".  That sort of thing.    Anyway, I put my pride aside and asked The Big Man to help a sista' out. I also asked Him to return my five long-lost packages that, according to the USPS were "left on the porch."  If only they had been left on my porch... Sigh.
     The next morning my Mom called me and jokingly said, "Christina, did you pray for help with the kids and your house or something last night?  Because I guiltily tossed and turned all night thinking about how I should be over there helping you out today."  Ha!  My God is a riot I tell you.  (If you don't know Jesus well, you need to get better acquainted with Him... He's totally pro-endorphins.)  There was more work to be done than just us two could accomplish though... It's a good thing my dad, aunt, and grandma volunteered too!
      Sometime between Dad fixing the vacuum and television and Mom unboxing Lucy's room, there was a knock on the door...
      "Hi, you must be Christina Lusk.  I wanted to get these to you sooner, sorry.  They've been sitting in my front room for over a week."  Yeppers!  My packages.  Thank you kind and honest new neighbor Melissa.  I like you.

     First Peter 5:7 is one of my ALL-TIME favorite promises from the Bible... It worked for me.  I bet it'll work for you too!

           "Cast ALL your cares upon The Lord.  Because he cares for you."

       See you at church this morning?

                   Me.

P.S.  Ever wish you could share an Extraordinary Ordinary Me blog entry with someone, who, just doesn't do the blog scene?  Click on the envelope below to send it to their email inbox.

Merry Christmas Everyone!

P.P.S.  - My apologies for all the wacky layout changes lately... I think I have found one that "suits me". For a while anyway. :)

House... louse, mouse, spouse...

    What to write, what to write?   Hmm.... I have a terribly daunting task before me.  I must weave my day and my thoughts into a journal entry that both amuses the reader, and communicates the heart of God, without sounding like just a buncha' hoo-hah.  Can I do it?  It's too late in the day to contract one of those "Boy, I need a day off", handy-dandy guest bloggers.  So, without further ado, here is my greatest attempt:

       Monday evening, we ventured out once again, in search for "our" house.  We have been looking at homes for what seems like an eternity.  Up 'til now, none of the homes had fit the bill.  It's not that they weren't lovely (Ok, a few of them were the opposite of lovely),  but, Michael and I have very specific tastes, unfortunately they are not collectively specific.  I, being the realistic one in this marriage, lean more towards the practical amenities, like, charm, French doors, green shutters, and a willow tree.  He, however, also had a list of things he REALLY wanted in a home, mostly non-essentials, like non-leaky plumbing, and a newer roof...
     After blabing on and on to the Lord, about our wants and desires, sounding very much like children who are allowed to watch TV commercials in December,  we were confident that God had a relatively complete idea of what were looking for in a house.
     And, back to Monday evening... We FOUND the house - spacious, lovely, green shutters and all!  We had the pre-approval letter.  We made an offer above what they were asking.  Oh yeah, we sealed the deal. Except for the million phone calls the next day about how everybody and their mother had also placed a bid.  My first reaction was like, "Step off, people.  That's my crib." or, jack our offer up to something that may have jeopardized us financially.  But, I was prompted by a voice inside me to instead, "Be still and know that He is God".  
       We are supposed to have an answer about winning the bid by tomorrow evening.  I am anxious for nothing... I am anxious for nothing... I am...   Really, I am not freaking out about it.  Am I madly in love with this place?  Yes. Am a certain beyond a doubt that this is our house?  No.  But, I won't be disheartened if it doesn't work out, because I know if we don't get it, It is because my Dad has something even better up His sleeve.  You see, He's never let me down.  And it's just better to not freak out about stuff.  See my posts titled, Don't get mad....

Be still,

Me

PS.  This wasn't my most humorous or coherent post, so I thought I'd make up for it with this picture of a duck.
  

I say tomato...

When it comes to painting, my arsenal of excuses of why I am too busy to do it right now, is rather infinite.  I've needed to finish this spot in my living room for months now.  And, although my kiddie-free moments are scarce, it seems like anytime I stumble upon them, I always think of something more important that needs to be done, like, applying Pledge to the underside of the table.

Anyway, I needed to complete today's blog entry, so, that's a pretty decent reason to (once again) momentarily put off the painting, right?

Fear not, this entry isn't actually about my bemoaning application of liquid latex.  It's about something completely different, my bemoaning Michigan climate change. No, just kidding.  I actually enjoyed the cooler weather today.  It gave me a wonderful occasion to dress my kid like this.

This little heart-melter really needed to have his picture taken at the apple orchard.  But, Grandma G. was en route to take him away for the weekend (so I could paint).  (Grandma L. escorted the other blondie that resides here, to Mackinac Island.  Lucky Lu.)  So, I did the next best thing, I took him (kinda-sorta without permission, while she was at work) to the neighbor's tomato patch.  I was sure she wouldn't mind if the 'lil guy helped himself a couple of "maters".

And, picking tomatoes must've looked like fun, because some kids on our block (upon receiving permission from Yours Truly, who, was already stealing and trespassing) swarmed the plants like seagulls on an open package of Doritos.   I promise I never meant for them to pluck EVERY SINGLE TOMATO.  It just sorta' happened.  It happened fast.  

      So, the owner of the naked vines sometimes reads this blog when she gets home from work (just about now), and I'd just like to say... Um, Hi, Sandy.

Also, before true confession hour is over, Noah, may have picked a flower from your garden...

or two.

But, we saved you a good amount of the tomatoes.  You're gonna want to wash them though.  

Some of them got licked.  

I told Noah if he gave you a wink, you would probably forgive us.

'Cause you're a lot like Jesus.  

If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.
                                                             1 John 1:9

And now, I must paint.

But, there are so many lovely new photos to edit...

Happy Fall Everyone.

Christina

Don't get Mad... the continuation...

Perusing some of the archives of this place (I stole that from FRESH MOMMY's blog), I happened upon a promise to finish a story... I am making good on that today...

Dont Get Mad...the continuation...      Click HERE for Part 1

     Seven years ago, a young couple phoned the airlines to confirm that the flight that was to return them to their homeland was indeed leaving at Eleven o' clock.  Upon verification of departure status, they (infant in tow) had one H -E - half circle - K, of a taxi ride, but, by the grace of God, arrived safely at the airport.

      9:59pm - To my husband,  "Michael, this is our gate... why does the sign say "PARIS"?

     To the man at the desk, - "Sir, We are here for an 11:00 flight to Miami..."

     His reply - "Let's see... hmm...It looks like that flight was changed... yes, it left at 11:00 this morning."

     To God, Satan, the angels, and the frightened man behind the desk, "WHAT!!!!???"

And, before I could sputter another word, my husband said something very, very wise.  He told me, "Stop." I obeyed, curious as to why he wasn't a bit more flustered by the situation.  Then, very calmly, he said, "I think we just need to allow God to do something ... Let's pray."  (That guy sure is a good influence on me.) We had no money for food, or a hotel... and the next flight to the United States didn't leave until the next morning...  We were five hours away from anyone we knew.  But, we had a faith in an all powerful God, who, we asked to take care of us in this difficult moment.

The airport had a couple of metal benches. We asked the lady at the information counter if we could camp out on them for the night... She hesitated, then looked at our precious baby, and replied... "Yes."  (Michael noticed she was reading a bible as we approached.  Fascinating.)

Two adults, one hungry infant, 240 lbs. of luggage, and a couple of 4 and a half foot benches... We made ourselves as comfy as possible.

Not long after, the same woman asked to speak with us... We thought we were getting kicked out for the night.  Instead.... "I spoke to my parents, they have a luxury apartment nearby that they aren't using right now, if you feel comfortable staying there, they will take you there, and bring you back in the morning."

Now, we don't usually encourage leaving with strangers in a foreign country, but we felt peace about this incidence...

We were picked up by a lovely couple (WHO SPOKE ENGLISH), and taken to a magnificent apartment (Which also happened to have A CRIB) We were given food... we chillaxed a bit while we watched cable,  hot baths....etc..and in the morning, they brought breakfast and a wrapped gift.

Completely refreshed, we boarded the plane, and guess what!? There's like an hour more to the story.
I guess you will have to come back again for part 3.  Do you want to hear the rest?

Tune in tomorrow:  Same bat-time, Same bat-channel...


"BAM!", "SOCK!", "POW!"

Christina

PS.  (What would my posts be without a "P. S."? ... Shorter, I guess.)

Here's a song, with...., forgive me Dan Moen, painfully outdated music. The words are appropriate though.  Do try and make it through it for me, will you.  Click on the photo.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1zo3fJYtS-o&feature=related