Thursday, April 23, 2015


  Here's a post from a little while back. The words I started with were a little too deep, so I scrapped them and will opt for a picture post instead.  

Lily's Barbies get more disturbing by the day.

...especially with this face. 


Not so fierce. 


Lily likes to wear Rosy's coat on backwards, zipped up with the hood on the right way. 

She wrote this backwards on the outside and then closed the door. 

Insert maniacal laughter here.

Hallo. Kto je tam?

Lily tells me this is me laying on a bed, dreaming of Rosy (in the bubble). 

Lady milk carton in a mini skirt and high heels (my description).


''Pani Poštarka'' (Mrs.Postwoman)

First haircut

Counting rings

She called it Horseland

Wednesday, April 22, 2015


Ruminating in my heart lately...

''We are to come to him even though the world calls us in a hundred different directions. We are to be fools for his sake. We are to take risks for him and be merry for him. We are to work for peace and pray for miracles. We are to go places and do things and speak words that, without him, we wouldn't even dare dream of. We know so much more than we ever let on about what he would have each of us do in our own lives- what door to open, what hand to take. We have within us, each one, so much more of his power than we ever spend- such misers of miracle we are, such pinchpenny guardians of grace.''  Frederick Buechner; Deliverance/ A Room Called Remember (emphasis mine)

     There is a young man I see very often around our neighborhood, almost on a daily basis. And almost exclusively the only time I ever see him is on his way either to or from the grocery store to get alcohol. He lives in an apartment building near ours, which is next to the playground where we take Lily and Rosy to play. Sometimes he sits on one of the benches outside of that building with one of two women who also live there, who visibly have some mental problems. I had always felt a sadness when it came to this guy, who is probably in his late 20s or early 30s, but it wasn't until the other day that I started to pray for him. For whatever reason I had started to notice him more in the previous days, or pay more attention somehow, and then last week I was walking down the sidewalk by Lily's pre-school, and up behind me came one woman whom I know by name (but not much more than that). I have taken notice of her because she wears the difficulty of her life on her face maybe more than anyone I have ever seen here. You can imagine what I mean. She is thin and frail looking, she has large, dark circles under her eyes and a mouth which appears to be permanently puffing on a cigarette. I have never seen her smile. I took notice of her approaching behind us because I wanted to be sure and greet her, as is the custom here even with narrow acquaintances. I also noticed that the young guy was coming toward us. He seemed to be in a drunken stupor, but then something happened that left an impression on my heart. When he noticed the woman, his face lit up and he softly cried out ''Mami.'' (Mommy). (A side note: It is not uncommon or at all strange here for full-grown men and women to call their moms ''mommy'' or their dads ''daddy.'' It is a term of endearment, and shows that families stay very close here, despite age. I used to find it a little bit funny. I mean I would smile about it, but now I find it really, truly precious and lovely). But when he said it, the woman kept walking quickly, and snarled something at him as he chased to keep up with her.     
     Now of course I know absolutely zero about their situation. All I know is that both of them seem to be desperately unhappy and in need of deliverance. Actually, I hadn't even realized that that was the name of the Buechner address that I took this quote from. I only realized that I felt a prick in my spirit that I should pray for them, and I found myself praying along those lines. And that's all the more I have to share about it for now. Except to say that I am scared to death of what God might ask me to do. Talk to them? Tell them God loves them? Share my faith? But on the other hand I am sick to death of not speaking up. Keeping quiet. Hiding like a skitterish little mouse, like I have most of my life. I want to take risks for Him. Experience the miraculous and lavish it upon others. Is anyone with me?  

Tuesday, April 14, 2015


      Last Saturday our friends invited us on a hike to Bradlo, not far from where we live. The weather was perfect. The distance and difficulty were perfect (read: hard enough to push Lily, but doable). The company was perfect. I got a botany lesson and even got to forage a little. Andrejka's snacks were perfect and timely. She has a gift for this. She knows just what to bring and just when to bring it out. This year it was string cheese on the way up and brownies and apples at the top.  Then of course there was the campfire afterwards at the house she and Jurček bought recently. When I went into this house I experienced one of my top three favorite feelings in the whole entire world. The sense of being transported back in time, in a place you absolutely love. I can't even explain it. But the way that house made me feel was amazing. The furniture made me...I don't know...want to grab it and run? The tiles, the carpet, the walls, everything reminded me of a Montana farmhouse built in the 1940s or so. I meant to take pictures but forgot (future post!) Anyhoo, Tomáš' eyes were making indents in the backsides of their sockets with each and every comment and gasp I made. It's disappointing to know that I will never live in a house like this. He does not share my enthusiasm for this kind of interior decoration because for him it's just exactly what you'd find in an old village house. Something in need of a complete redo. Škoda.
     I so desperately needed this day. There's just no replacement for getting outdoors with friends and exploring. And Slovakia is a perfect place to do it. I'm always taken aback at the beauty of the mildness of this country. Montana is a state of extremes. Extreme cold in the winter, extreme heat in the summer, and the landscape reflects that. Jagged, rocky mountains. And it's beautiful. Slovakia is a country of mildness. Mild winters, mild summers, gently rolling green hills. And it's also beautiful. Maybe this summer we'll (finally) get to explore the Montana-like High Tatras in mild Slovakia. It might just be(come) my favorite place on Earth.
Lily's dinosaur egg

Juniper berries. Sweeter than I thought they would be. 

Checking out a crocus. 


I'm guessing this was responsible for my upcoming migraine


Planting strawberries

Feeding the goatsies


Wild garlic our friends brought me!