Ant Attack

One of my jobs at the YWAM base called Gleanings for the Hungry, at Dinuba, CA, is gardening.  At first it was enjoyable and satisfying to pull out tenacious weeds from the rock beds, where they wormed their way through the black garden fabric and between the rocks. I got my kneelers strapped to my knees and attacked the weeds one by one.
One day I encountered an ant nest. Ants came pouring out of one tiny tunnel and before I knew it, I was bit several times.  These tiny fire ants, are only about three mm long. But, boy, can they bite. Then the bites are itchy, even keeping me awake at night. I kept my arm out of the covers, as keeping my skin warm made the itch even worse.
People have offered me cortisone cream, but I like natural remedies.  I found vinegar and Tiger Balm effective for a short while, and even sprayed the area with a kind of acidic water, the by-product of an alkaline water machine, that is supposed to be good for insect bites, and the skin in general.
Once these bites healed, I tended to forget the dangers of gardening.  My gardening partner and I decided to thin out some Aloe Vera plants that were crowded together, and plant them in areas that had no plants.

  I knew better than to kneel down, and was leaning over to cut the thick sucker that connected the plants sideways.  Long-handled pruning shears did a great job, and the baby plant was severed. I went for another plant.
Oh no! Here come the ants.  Thousands of ants swarming everywhere! Jumping back with a yelp, I peel off my gloves, brushing ants off my arms.  Even my top layer comes off and gets a vigorous shake. I keep up the brushing and shaking for a while, and they keep coming. My partner feels sorry for me, so brings some ice, and tells me to take it easy.  I'm happy to have a window of time to finally write an up-to-the-moment blog.

The ant attack reminds me of what the King James version of Ephesians calls "the wiles of the devil".
Other versions use the words schemes, strategies, deceits, and everything the devil throws your way. The behaviour of the ants is cunning and tricky.  You don't expect anything so small to have such power. And to come up at you so sneakily, when you're not thinking about danger. A good reminder to be on the alert to resist the tricks of the enemy of my soul.  They are as subtle and fast moving as those little ants.

Put on the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil. Ephesians 6:11

Grandchildren 2018

Livi is enjoying her Popsicle

Elliston (5) enjoying his S'more

Livi enjoying her play cereal

Livi (now 3) and Nellwyn (now 1)

Elliston and Matteo at the Museum

Matteo (7) and Rainbow

Elliston at Big Valley

I'm glad I'm not in jail

Elliston and Wishes

Grandma B's 70th birthday. We're looking at the coloured flame on the birthday candles.

Grandpa's 70th birthday

at Pusch Ridge, AZ

The teenagers--Caleb (16), Emma (14), and Zachary, (15)






Merry Christmas from Terry and Alice!

Pima Canyon Trail

The Pima Canyon Trail in Oro Valley, near Tucson, AZ, was a real workout! The first part of the trail skirted private property; that was the boulder hopping segment.

I carefully watched my steps as we slowly worked our way towards the canyon, hugging the mountain slope that was the edge of the Coronado National Forest.

Six Javelinas in the wild! We had seen them before as they wandered through the schoolyard, or slept at the Desert Museum, but these were really in the wild, about six of them, nibbling on the vegetation instead of on leftover bits of student lunches. The picture below shows one at the school, but today we watched instead of photographing.

Javelina in the schoolyard

Javelina snack. Ouch!

About halfway through the morning, the vegetation changed from prickly pear cactus, barrel cactus, creosote bushes and lots of saguaro cacti, as we entered the side of the canyon, the shady side. Mesquite trees, ocotillo, and other small leafed trees (live oak?) lined the trail, creating a dappled shade. The path wasn't quite so littered with rocks. I don't have a picture of the shaded part.

Tall Occotillo

The first landmark was the Cottonwood trees,

 and even a few shallow pools of water and 

bits of a stream escaping downhill. Water!

 Every time I heard a sound that wasn't people talking, we stopped to try to identify it. A Bridled Titmouse was a new bird for the year's List. Today was the first time Terry mourned aloud the loss of his beloved digital camera, left behind on the BC ferries during the summer.

“What on earth is that?” I exclaimed. 

 Something large and brown moved in a small tree, but it wasn't a bird! At first it looked like a group of monkeys. Russet brown fur, long bushy tails, and faces like badgers or raccoons. The Arizona Coati! These creatures were eating the berries of the tree, truly hanging in every direction just like monkeys.

We kept asking people if there was a destination to our trail, and finally a couple of volunteers who were trimming branches told us about a dam.

“It's about a mile and a half from here. You cross the wash (dry canyon bed) two or three times until you see some cattails and a small dam.”

Rock dam on left

I could hardly wait. I didn't really have our whole lunch with us, but stuffed a few items into my fanny pack at the last minute—cheese, a piece of carrot and one green onion, and a few walnuts and dates. That would have to be our midday meal, and it was noon, three hours after we started.

Finally! There was the dam, a wonderful deep pool of water, and a big slab of rock if you wanted sun, and a granite “bench” to have some shade to cool off. 

Across from us the canyon wall held the promise of seeing the Canyon Wren close up. I had spotted it earlier, but now got reacquainted with its song, kind of a descending trill made up of five notes.

“I bet he'll come right on that rock in front of us” said Terry as we quietly munched on our snack. And he did.

Desert Marigold

Oh yes! I almost forgot the Indian grinding holes that the volunteers mentioned. These were by the dam as well.

As we approached the small parking lot at the beginning of the trail again, five hours later, Terry hugged me and exclaimed, “Well done!”

And I was pleased that I had walked 10.5 km, the same distance as the trail on Madera Canyon, in April 2015.

I think all my muscles will be sore tomorrow, though!

Sunday Morning Meditation

Have you ever opened your mouth and said the wrong thing? Or given too much information for the situation at hand? I have, in fact, I do it a lot. Oh, if only I would think before I speak!

Yesterday this happened to me, and I felt low for hours, with a gloomy cloud of condemnation hanging over my head.

Finally, I had a talk with the Lord, and told him I didn't know what to do about this tendency of mine. No immediate answers were forthcoming as I walked down the cactus lined path behind our travel trailer. All that came to mind was God saying:

Be still, and know that I am God. Psalm 46:10

This morning I was walking to the dumpster, past the rocks lining the sidewalk to the parking lot, when I spied a little bird hopping from the curb onto the rocks. My iPhone happened to be in position in my hand, with the zoom in place, so I starting snapping pictures as the bird hopped from rock to rock.

I wonder if that's a Rock Wren, I thought.

Terry checked his bird book, and affirmed, that indeed, it was. The funny thing was,

yesterday we were at Agua Caliente park on the other side of Tucson.

“What birds have been sighted here today?” asked Terry.

“Well, early this morning the guys saw a Rock Wren by the pond.”

That sounded exciting. That particular bird wasn't yet on our List for this year. But it was nearly noon, and we never saw it.

Seeing the Rock Wren today while I wasn't looking was part of an answer to my prayer. That doesn't really have anything to do with my wayward tongue, but it shows that my heavenly Father delights to bless me with an unexpected appearance of the very bird we wanted to see, despite my lack of righteous actions. His love and care for me never change. He will listen as long as I keep sharing what's on my heart to Him.

1. I love the Lord because he hears my voice

and my prayer for mercy.

2. Because he bends down to listen,

I will pray as long as I have breath!      Psalm.116:1-2

Clue: Look in the lower half, middle

This photo is like a puzzle. Can you see the Rock Wren? [zoom makes it very fuzzy]

The Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum was a great place to spend our day off. The park is made up of various buildings housing live desert reptiles, birds, animals and fish, each in a wonderful representation of its natural habitat. Interconnecting trails featured desert plants and trees, all labelled.

At least six different varieties of hummingbirds darted and swooped amongst the bushes in the hummingbird enclosure. Impossible to capture their beauty with a mere Iphone camera.

I'll just show you the plants that caught my attention, and a couple of animals that caught my attention.

Rufus Hummingbird.






This little lizard was about three inches long, and posed obligingly for me.

The nest in the Cholla cactus is probably a Cactus Wren's.

This is a Fairy Duster, or False Mesquite.  It's one of the few plants that blooms in the winter on desert mountain slopes.

Teddy Bear Cholla. 

A clearer picture .  Don't cuddle this teddy bear, though!

The raptor show this year featured this family of Harrises Hawk. They put on quite a show, swooping low over our heads, guided by little bits of meat a park volunteer would put on various landing points, like dead trees .

 A Mountain Goat clings precariously to this steep slope.  We held our breath as he began his descent, but he made it!

The cacti below looked soft and fuzzy, but again, don't touch it!

I don't know the name of these flowers, but they made a splash of colour against the brown-green desert.

Actually, the desert appeared much greener than we've seen before because of recent rain.

One of the many varieties of Prickly Pear.

Pusch Ridge Revisited

Welcome to a new SOWER (Servants on Wheels Ever Ready) season! It's been almost two years that we've done a volunteer project with this organization, and the last one was on Vancouver Island at Nanoose Bay. (February and March 2017)

Our last US project was the four months we spent in California in the winter-spring of 2016.

Now we're back at a project we experienced in 2014-- Pusch Ridge Christian Academy, just north of Tucson, AZ.

 We're parked at a new campsite, a bit removed from the hustle and bustle of the school, but on the edge of a busy parking lot. 

 Here is a view of our big back yard .

Night visitors to the deserted basketball court where I sit to get best WiFi reception.

The Javelina is a kind of peccary, although it looks a bit like a wild pig. It lives in the desert, and is attracted to the school grounds in search of tasty morsels from stray lunches.

The DeGraaf/Wieringas are serving with us for the month of November.

We ladies have been working in the kitchen, peeling, assembling lunch components, and making croutons. 

 Easy work, and the morning goes fast. The men have been trimming mesquite trees, lining a soccer field, and painting.

Such a blessing to have sunshine every day!

How's this for a far reaching chainsaw!

Aha! moment

Life got in the way, and I haven't yet summarized our India trip. Our seventh grandchild, born just before we left, is approaching three months; looking at her the other day reminded me that I had promised to wrap up my impressions after the trip was over.

During our trip, the pastor asked me one day, as we were sitting around, "Are you having a good time?"
"I don't know."  I replied truthfully.
I had signed up for the trip thinking, This is great, I'll get to teach English!  After all, I've had experience in this!
I prepared for days, thinking up songs and games to play, and gathering props and teaching aids to help me.  All this stuff fit neatly into an old suitcase I had found, and I didn't plan on bringing it home again.
The first day of classes was a bit of a shock, to say the least.  There were four classes that morning, the youngest of which was a class of three-year-olds called Nursery. They sat neatly dressed in their uniforms in desks way too large for them, staring up at our team of six adults as we loomed over them.  There was not much room in each classroom to play any games. I'm quite sure they had never seen white people before, and they all eyed us with trepidation.
We launched into our first song, and then expected them to dialogue with us and each other as we went over the phrases we were trying to teach them.  They could hardly open their mouths to speak, and then spoke so softly we couldn't hear them saying the English words.
After three more classes, whose students were four, five, and six years old, it kind of seemed as though we were swimming against the current.
 In our room afterwards I collapsed on our bed in defeat. I felt like running away. I felt like not doing this any more.
"God, I can't do this!  You have to take over!"  I wished I hadn't been appointed leader of one of the teams.  It was humbling to come to the end of myself.
As our team brainstormed that evening, we realized we had to approach our task in a different way.  We decided to break up into small groups in the classroom and use puppets and some of the small props I'd brought along.  It seemed silly, asking them the repeat the names of colours and numbers, but we did try to incorporate them into games.

I found out it wasn't my expertise in English that was needed.  Our goal was to focus on the children's pronunciation. That was nearly impossible, given that we were only actually in the classroom for three days, and were to do a craft activity on the fourth day.  It was interaction that was wanted, not teaching new words.

I found out that what God did THROUGH me was far more important than what I did FOR Him.  The lesson I learned on this trip was to be FLEXIBLE, in other words, GO WITH the FLOW.
Once I got this straight in my mind, the noise and chaos of the craft day didn't bother me.  It didn't bother me that the glue didn't hold the felt eyes and ears onto the slippery nylon fabric of the sock puppets, or that there were only a handful of glue bottles for sixty children, and we had to wait our turn.
I sat on the floor with my little group of six children, and practised their names while we waited. I felt in an oasis of peace.

The children were patient, and their absolute delight in the sock puppets that they had created was reward in itself.















Apparently, what we accomplished in the school was well received.  The children were happy with the special attention and a change in their routine.  Some parents were already registering younger siblings, thinking it would be worthwhile if a team from North America came to "teach", however briefly.
I can say that I'm glad we went on the trip.  And yes, I did have a good time.