Hmmm…

T-minus 14 days until the launch of fall decorations. Today’s high temperature? 95 degrees – surprisingly low.

I don’t care if it’s still so hot the squirrels are wiping their furry brows while cooking little pans-full of eggs on my sidewalk.  Come September 1, the storage boxes appear and autumn takes over our house.

It’s been on my mind for a while now. …Say, since the end of last fall.  And today I saw one of the signals that a new season is just around the corner:

Chile. That’s chile with an “e.” Not  to be confused with my beloved chili, especially Texas chili – the real deal. But, like Texas, that’s a whole other conversation. I digress.

It was as I crossed the Albertson’s parking lot this hot afternoon that I spotted and smelled that annual herald of fall, the chile roaster. Now, I didn’t know about chile roasters until we moved to southeast New Mexico eight years ago. Maybe you did. If you’re familiar, you’ll know that this time of year grocery stores and some smaller sellers and fruit stands across the southwest pull out the black metal drum-like roasters for all passersby to see. Those buying bags of chiles tote them over to the roaster person, often waiting in line to have them roasted on the spot. The train of carts waiting outside Albertson’s today stretched 12 deep.

And the scent of freshly roasted chiles fills the parking lot.

Mind you, I don’t buy the roasted chiles myself, usually.

But I do like that it’s one of the reminders that the heat of summer will fade away…eventually. And fall will come. Praise God.

So, what early signs of fall do you look for each year? Do they make you smile, or do you frown about thinking that summer weather is almost over?

969 days.

That’s not much time.

It may sound like a lot, but it’s really not.  Not if you’re planning to meet and connect with local people, win them to Christ, begin Bible studies and plant churches – all before the 2014 Winter Olympics and Paralympics in Russia’s coastal/mountain city of Sochi (pronounced SOH-chee – I didn’t know myself until last year).

But that’s the exciting plan that God has unfolded to leaders of Engage Sochi. There’s so much more to it, so whether or not you like the Olympics, I hope you check out Engage Sochi.

How did I get involved? Just a couple of weeks ago I heard from Marc Hooks, Engage Sochi Co-Director and our buddy from the Vancouver Olympics mission trip. He needed writers to create content for their site so it could launch before the Southern Baptist Convention this week.  He and wife Kellye were Russia-bound until then. He’d never read a lick of my writing, so he asked either from a great deal of faith or from sheer desperation (or both). I don’t care which because it’s been fun so far. I’ve had a blast giving myself a crash course in a more journalistic style of writing. Can we say Journalism for Dummies?

A small handful of writers contributed the articles. More content will be added regularly. I hope you have a chance to read as many as possible.

I’ve been asked which are mine. Look on the main part of the page – not the side menu – under Recent News. So far, I’ve written From the Sea to the Snow, What is Engage Sochi?, Praying for Engage Sochi, and Have You Heard of the Olympic Spirit? Some of the stories may be under the Archives. Bonus points if you spot the stories written under the influence of sinus meds and one written well after the time Cinderella had to be home.

If you watch the video connected to the Sea/Snow story, look for some faces who might be familiar to you.

Thanks for visiting when you can. My prayer is that God uses all of this missions effort for His purposes and glory.

I’ve been a happy writer. The manuscript of my WWII novel Wild Blue Yonder still inches along. The process continues to challenge and inspire me…I’m convinced that the blood, sweat, and tears of this seemingly endless project will be worth it, even if it’s just for me. I wouldn’t trade it. Josie and her cronies intrigue me.

In the meantime, God has dropped a few fun, volunteer writing opportunities in my lap. These little pieces offer variety and exercise new writing muscles I’ve been eager to stretch.

One of them I can tell you about in a few days.  A cause that means a lot to me is gaining momentum, and I’m glad to be a very small part of its media strategy.

So, stay tuned…

Some of you know that David and I got to run away last month. Vacation called our names, and we didn’t turn a deaf ear. Two states showed us their amazing sights. One of my favorite stops was Antelope Canyon near Page, Arizona.

At first glance it doesn’t look like much.  If you didn’t know it was there (and if fences and tour guides were gone), you might pass by the scene below without a second glance. This was the opening:

But just beneath the surface lies one the most famously photographed slot canyons in the world. David took this. (You can see more from this trip at Reflections of Creation.)

I can’t really describe how beautiful it was to be down there. Even though it was just for a couple of hours, the memories will stay with me forever, I imagine.

Later the thought came to me: how often do I pass by things in my everyday life that deserve a second glance?  What do I miss out on in my busyness?  Heaven forbid if I veer a smidge from my to-do list.

Yet God does give us those chances. A mosaic of people and places fills my mind – mental snapshots reminding me of times God has made me slow down so I wouldn’t miss it. I’m grateful. It could be as simple as stopping to watch a sunset seen from my backyard while I’m hurrying my chores, chatting with a sweet person while waiting forever in line at Walmart, overhearing a little kid telling a joke, or talking with an elderly person only to learn that he’s a Pearl Harbor survivor.

They’re brief, sometimes forgotten moments, but they can form some of the treasured touchstones along the journey of our lives.

I pray that every day I’ll have the eyes to see before I pass up the treasures.

This post is dedicated to the person who’s been requesting it for months. You know who you are. In case you don’t, your name is Kerri.

It was the best of espresso making, it was the worst of espresso making. (…Betcha saw that coming.)

Oh, the caffeine highs and post-caffeine-crash lows of being a married couple addicted to specialty coffee drinks. It’ll drive you to feed your addiction in creative ways. It’ll also drive you to Starbucks so often that they’ll mail you a shiny, re-loadable gold card with your name printed on it. Or so I’ve heard.

Yet over the years we’ve been learning from our habit. I share our wisdom now with you.

Lesson Number One: Don’t give away your heart too easily. We told ourselves, We should buy our own espresso machine. We can make them at home and rarely darken the door of a coffee house! Think of the money we’ll save! This is a sound idea in theory. And it worked to some extent.  Yet we didn’t know we’d have our heart broken in the process. After carrying home our on-sale, chrome-and-black pride and joy, we settled happily into our new roles: David morphed into Coffee Drink Creator Extraordinaire, and I the lucky taste tester. Flavored mochas galore! Oh, how the aroma filled our home when he worked his caffeine magic.

But the magic didn’t last (sigh). A year or so later, our first-bought went kaput. We lovingly laid it to rest in the local landfill.

Lesson Two: Beautiful machines make lousy traveling companions. Let’s buy a better-quality machine that’ll last longer, we said. Marvelous plan!  We combed websites and read reviews for weeks. Finally, we laid eyes on it: a sleek, high-quality refurbished model for a decent price. We knew it belonged with us. It arrived, and we made a place for it on our kitchen counter and in our hearts. This beaut had style and could make a mean mocha. Proudly I invited friends over and attempted my own creations, using a page-long list of David’s coaching instructions.

But, alas, it was too good to last. The time came when we couldn’t bear to leave it behind during a camping trip. Yep, you heard me. You see, many of you know that we love camping in our little RV. When talking about it, though, we call it “camping” with air quotes; it’s hard to claim that you’re roughing it if you’re toting along a queen-sized bed, TV/DVD player, and full kitchen  – even a microwave! So when we went “camping” one Thanksgiving, we oooohed over the idea of sipping coffee drinks while watching the Macy’s parade. Into the RV the espresso machine went.  Will it be okay on the kitchen counter while we’re on the road?  Suuuure, it’s heavy enough that it’ll stay put, we reasoned.

What I would give to have had a video camera inside the RV to capture the machine’s maiden voyage when we had to slam on the brakes.  I’m certain it happened in slow motion; the theme to 2001: A Space Odyssey could’ve been a fitting soundtrack. Upon arrival, we peered inside to see that it had sailed high enough to knock a chunk out of the counter top then land six feet beyond on the floor, metal arm severed clean. Oops.

Lesson Three: Once an espresso machine owner, always an espresso machine owner. It gets in your blood, this addiction of ours. The forlorn metal arm couldn’t be mended, nor could the rest of the machine. But that didn’t stop us.

We allowed ourselves time to heal…about a year. Then one day – tears long dried – we found its successor. Another gorgeous, capable maker. The space on our kitchen counter sits filled once again, along with our coffee cups.

And so it continues…