Precious Jewels

This is Matteo, our youngest grandchild, not counting his sibling still under construction.

He needed a cup and a child-sized plate, so I hauled out the old Bunnykins dinnerware.   His mother was worried.  "It might break!", as if I was taking some huge risk on a priceless heirloom.
"Oh well,"  I replied.
The risk was worth it, seeing him enjoy the set our children had used over thirty-five years ago.
Matteo doesn't really talk yet, but he showed his pleasure by pointing to each rabbit chasing around the rim of the plate.  
We're trying to downsize our possessions to fit a houseful of "stuff" into a smaller condo.  So far, it hasn't been too painful because not everything has been brought in.  My instructions are to be ruthless in my selection process, discarding things that we really have no use for, and even, that we haven't used for years.  This is a bit difficult for me, because I've always been a hoarder. 
It's a toss-up between real mementos and too many papers and unnecessary objects.
They are only things.  The real treasures are those that have eternal value: our family.
I thought of a children's hymn we used to sing in Sunday School:

When he cometh, when he cometh
To make up his jewels,
All his jewels, precious jewels,
His loved and his own 
      Like the stars of the morning,
      His bright crown adorning,
      They shall shine in their beauty,
      Bright gems for his crown.
Little children, little children,
Who love their Redeemer,
Are the jewels, precious jewels,
His loved and his own. 

Precious jewels win in this downsizing process.

Zion National Park

This is a back road through Zion National Park in Utah, that wound in and out of the park. At the top we were supposed to see over Kolob Canyon, where Terry hoped to spot condors.

These trees remind me of our (former) back yard.

7,900 ft in elevation!

Finally we gave up, even in four-wheel drive.  It didn't make sense to get stuck in the middle of nowhere.  Later, as we looked at the map again, we realized it wasn't even the official road to Kolob Canyon!
Inside the main entrance to the park, we parked our car and from that point rode a shuttle bus.  That was a first in a national park!  You could get off at any of the eight stops, and get on anywhere; another bus would be by a few minutes later.
This is the Court of the Patriarchs:

Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob

We got off at the last stop to walk in a narrow canyon.  The shallow Virgin River was accessible at several points.

 

This little fellow was hoping for a handout.
You weren't supposed to feed the wildlife, but the squirrels appeared to be already trained, and fearlessly approached hikers along the trail.

 We did get to drive our own vehicle for a few miles, then parked again for a hike to the Canyon Overlook.  At one point, looking at the sky through my binoculars, I spotted a large bird.  Was it the condor?  Terry isn't sure, because it was so far away.  But I like to think that we actually saw this elusive bird.


              

a tunnel is a novelty for some

                                                                     Terry wasn't aware that he was so close to a drop-off!                                                                            At the end of the day, we were glad we decided to stay
                                                                     one more day in southern Utah. The weather was great,
                                                                     comfortable enough for walking, and not too hot.
                                                                     We'll be in a snowy landscape soon enough!                                           

Highway Adventure

Our time in California was over, and we were leaving Indian Hills Camp after two months there.  We had left the crazy-busy freeways of southern California behind us, and were heading north-east to Barstow.  Near there, we hoped to camp at an RPI campground, a membership park in a camping organization we belong to.  We weren't supposed to arrive early, but were ahead of schedule.
"Now what do we do?" I asked.
"Let's stop at Calico."  It was a tiny dot on the map, a ghost town.  We'd seen lots of ghost towns, but it was something to do. We soon found out it wasn't an abandoned, crumbling ghost town like Rhyolite, that we'd briefly stopped at near Death Valley.  This was a full-blown tourist attraction charging admission at the gate.

Parking Baby B. on a slope near the other cars, we joined the people straggling up Main St.  The only large group there was a busload of French speaking tourists. (They didn't recognize that the "Restroom" sign really meant "toilettes".)

 You get the idea what kind of place this was, a booming town during the California gold rush.

Returning back to our parking spot after exploring for two hours, Terry made his usual inspection by walking around the trailer.  He looked at Baby B's tires.  Uh-oh, FLAT!  We thought we'd missed those boards on the freeway. Large nails stuck up from one of the two boards that lay right in the middle of our lane.
"Don't drive over them!"  I had yelled. Terry swung over to the left, but still managed, Thump, thump, to hit one of the boards.
"There was a car right beside me; I couldn't get over far enough," he told me later.

Twenty pounds of pressure in the two tires on the right, instead of fifty.
While I heated up some soup for lunch, Terry was already thinking of taking the tires off.
"Wouldn't AAA cover this?"  I asked.  We hadn't used this insurance coverage before.  Despite the fact Terry's cell phone didn't have coverage for the States, we used it anyway. This was an emergency. Many minutes later plans were made, and we settled in to wait a couple of hours for the tow truck to arrive.  Terry read his book, and I worked on the letter I was writing to my aunt.  At least it wasn't hot out, and we were out of the wind.
Finally at 5:00 pm, a smiling young man with "Arnando" embroidered on the pocket of his coveralls arrived with a big flat deck trailer.

after  three hours, the tires looked worse

Baby B. was winched up and strapped on while I snapped pictures and looked for cool rocks by the side of the road.Then we followed the tow truck to the recommended tire shop.

Riding off into the sunset

"Where's a good place to eat?" we asked the receptionist.  Soon we were ordering at Denny's, which happened to be at a Flying J truck stop.
"Is it OK to stay in your parking lot overnight?"
The clerk seemed surprised that I even asked.
"Of course.  Just park over by those other RV's."
After picking up Baby B. and FOUR new tires (might as well replace them all, Terry thought), that's just what we did.
Free campground, but an expensive day.  By the way, I had a good sleep, and 6 degrees C in the morning felt warmer than the same temperature back in Indian Hills.  Welcome to the desert!

Jesus said, here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart, because I have overcome the world.  John 16:33b

Teamwork

Lola does a great job scraping

 Our ladies' team of three has finished its first project- painting a set of bleachers in Western Town.

Behind the bleachers, bunk beds hide in the covered wagons

Barbie paints where she can reach

It took us seven mornings.  Sometimes we had to wait for the dew, and even frost, to disappear.  It was the first time I had applied paint with a roller. Fun!  The last morning was so hot, I just couldn't finish the last step, near the ground, where Lola had scraped the dirt away with a hoe.  Terry rescued me after his work, when most of the bleachers were in the shade.
Our next project is sewing an awning for the zip line, high above the platform. The men were working on these uprights, to hold up the modified trusses.

Lola's husband, Roy, on the ladder

Around here, awnings cover many of the playground activities, as the gigantic live oak trees don't extend everywhere to create shade.
Last month, some of the ladies sewed heavy coverings for the gables of cabins, for the space covered by screening, to make them warmer for winter use.

 This job really involves teamwork.  The vinyl is so heavy, two ladies are needed to lift it as another sews.  I had the privilege of sewing one of the gable pieces that went on the back.  The biggest challenge was getting a grip on the vinyl, and sewing in a straight line; it bothered my perfectionism  that my stitching wavered all over the place.
  "No one will see it, they're not going to inspect it," they told me.
 We were nervous about using the heavy-duty industrial sewing machine. The other SOWERs from last month had moved on, and a resident  at Indian Hills who understood the machine was having surgery that morning, and wasn't around to advise us.  Only Lola remained, but she hadn't actually used the machine.
As I was sewing a hem on this new project, the bobbin somehow jammed and the wheel wouldn't turn.  Lifting up the machine to inspect the underside, I saw that it looked familiar, and started to  fiddle with and reposition the bobbin pieces. Just a piece of  stray thread   The bobbin casing was just like the one on my Bernina at home.  God is so good.  Lola later told me it didn't look anything like her sewing machine.
I now have a deeper appreciation of the value of all the experiences in our lives, that prepare us for something else we may have to do later.
What is hard to imagine is how our life experiences, and our reactions to them, are actually preparing us for our "jobs" in eternity.

Big Rock in the Jar

Terry made reference to an object lesson in his devotional message to the SOWER group last week.  A jar was filled with three or four rocks, and the question asked, "Is the jar full?"  It appeared to be.  Gravel was added, however, to fill in the spaces.  "Is it full now?"  No, sand was added.  Surely the jar was full now!  But another thing was squeezed in - water.  Now the jar was really full. The point was, if you didn't get the big rocks in first, you wouldn't get them in at all.  Terry was using the illustration to say, "Keep your eyes on the 'big picture', in other words, persevere."
I was challenged.
My life is like that jar. The 'big rock' I want to fit into my life is writing, and having it published.
A few years ago, when I was only working half time, I took a writing course. I had always kept a journal, and I love to apply Bible truth to my life.  I wanted to be able to teach others, and it's easier for me to express myself through writing than speaking face to face.  The course taught how to write articles and short stories with the aim of having them published in various magazines. Even Christian magazines are listed in the market guide .  After I had successfully completed the course, I didn't take the next step, however, thinking my life was full enough.

Now that I'm retired, I have "all the time in the world".  Working with the SOWERs is great, but women only work three hours a day.  What about the rest of the time?  It's very easy to fill my life with sand, gravel and water, the little things.  There's washing dishes several times a day, sweeping up the ever-present dirt on the floor, and other mundane tasks.  Thinking up interesting things to eat and and cook to stay healthy is challenging, and cooking from scratch definitely takes time. I also need to walk and read my Bible every day, and keep up with  my friends. How about reading a good book, or looking up stuff on the Internet? These are not really little things, but they always demand my attention. I get distracted so easily.
I can't seem to fit the writing rock in because I'm going about it backwards, thinking I have to fit the rock in after putting in the sand and gravel. The sand, gravel and water take up all the space in my life.
No!  I need to make time for the rock first, and then fit the sand, gravel and water around it.  It's a discipline I'm working towards. 

Death Valley

Since we were staying at Indian Hills Camp for another month, Terry wanted to go on a "holiday" during the week before we started with Indian Hills Camp Chapter Two.   His choice of destination was Death Valley, 337 miles away.

 At first it was cold there, although the sun shone.  Wearing our layers, we peered over a cliff at Dante's View which overlooked the whole valley , but could hardly wait to get back into the car.

Another highlight was Badwater, 282 feet below sea level.

No, this isn't snow, but salt crystals which have leached down from the mountains .  An old time prospector was dismayed that his mule wouldn't drink the water from the spring, only to discover the water in the pond was salty.
Points of interest in the valley were miles apart, so we actually spent most of our two days in the car.  At the north end was Scotty's Castle, a mansion built by a man as a getaway.  We didn't take the tour, but walked around, map in hand, and looked at all the outside features.

Scotty's Castle

We did walk through a canyon for an hour, and looked at a salt creek where the endangered pup fish were starting to hatch.  It was almost sunset when we manged to spot a few, thanks to a fellow tourist on the boardwalk with us.

At the Stovepipe Well, we felt the softest, silkiest sand ever. I sat there and let it run through my fingers.  It made me think of Abraham in the Bible.  God told him his descendents would outnumber the grains of sand on the seashore.  That's a lot of sand, I thought, but these grains were even tinier, making them even more numerous.
Another off-the-road attraction was a row of charcoal kilns, and the ruins of a former borax mining operation.

Twenty Mule Team Wagon Train

Terry reminded me that a picture like this was on my borax box at home.  

On the way home, we climbed some sand dunes. What fun!

Death Valley is the driest place in North America.  I didn't really believe I needed to drink more water than usual, since it wasn't that warm.  The morning after we got home, I woke up with such a pain in my temple.  Drinking two huge glasses of water soon fixed that.

Terry would love to return to Death Valley and go "four-bying" on some of the rough roads.  You need another vehicle with you to do that, for safety reasons.  Any takers?

From the ocean to the mountains

The weather was warm enough to check out a recommended beach.

   When we got to LaJolla Beach, all I wanted to do was to sit in a beach chair and relax.  That isn't Terry's style, however. Once he had seen the Pacific ocean, and watched the surfers for a few minutes, he was ready to go.

I persuaded him to walk along the beach.
"Maybe you'll see some new birds," I said.  Actually, after walking down the beach, we did find many new shore birds to add to our list. Since Terry had his book with him, he was able to take the time to sort out the different kinds of gulls and shore birds.  Besides, they're pretty co-operative in congregating in one spot and not moving anywhere too fast.

Marbled Godwit

Willet

Whimbrel

 They all kind of look the same , until you look at them closely.

   By the time we'd returned to our parking spot, it was time for an early lunch.  I got to sit in my beach chair after all, and enjoy the picnic.  It was just cool enough to be able to sit right in the sun.

Sorry, Terry, I caught you in the middle of a bite.  This is the only time, by the way, that Terry's agreed to wear a hat. He selected this one out of our collection.

We looked over a cliff at another spot, still carrying our binoculars.  That's when we discovered this secluded location was the "nude beach"!
The next day we drove to an old mining town called Julian, high in the hills. After a twisty, turning road, we were in a town established in 1870 during the gold mining boom.  The historic buildings along main street were all turned into little businesses and boutiques.  We had the feeling of being in New Denver, B.C., although it wasn't as small.

high enough to have snow on the way

Main Street, Julian

 One of the tourist attractions in Julian was its apple pies.  Of course we had to sample them.  Terry had a delicious apple dumpling, and I was happy to find apple pie, sweetened only with apple cider, not with artificial sweeteners.  A week later, when the weather changed, the town was gearing up for the expected snowfall.  Extra pies were being baked!  Apparently Julian was a favourite location for Californians to experience snow, and the business people were ecstatic at the anticipated surge of tourists.  We were glad, however, that we'd been there when it was sunny.