Love, Laughter, and Life

Adventures With a Book Lover


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I DID NOT Steal Those Toys!

The Hill Clan

The Hill Clan

Long, long ago, in a galaxy far, far away, I was a child. Not too young, but still the oldest in a family of four offspring plus two parents. We all lived, incredibly, crammed into a single-wide mobile home. You can picture it, lovely white and gold toned, kids and pets crawling all over the place.

As was often necessary, mom did deep cleaning. She had to, in order to keep up with the vast assortment of STUFF that accumulated in our small home. During these times of cleaning (and might I add, my siblings were really not good at keeping track of their belongings, and often stored them on the floor or under the bed or dressers), mom dug out closets, under beds, and behind bureaus. That being said, I was the thrifty type. I also was developing my super organized skills and methods of storing massive amounts of junk. (READ: packrat).

Mom always threatened us. “If you don’t clean it up and put it away, I’m going to through it away.” She was telling the truth. At the last possible moment, just before the dust pan scooped up the garbage stored on the floor by my siblings, I swooped in and rescued trash. I think I may have been one of the pioneers of ‘trash to treasure.’ I pulled out anything that was in good condition, unbroken, cool, or whatever I deemed save-worthy. I transferred my new stash items to my top drawer. Saved from certain garbage burning, I practiced recycling before it became popular to be green.

Occasionally, and my siblings employ much ganging up and coersion to share their twisted side of the story, I opened my top dresser drawer and offered specific collection items for sale (nevermind that it was back to their original owners). Inflation not being what it is today, I charged fair (scavenger rates) prices, ranging from a few pennies to nickels, dimes, or maybe quarters. Great deals, huh? After all, I needed to recoup my time and energy costs. And I had to support my horse. Horses are expensive! It was a win win situation. They got great bargains, I kept the landfill empty of good stuff, and I added the change to my cash flow.

To talk with them, one would think that I stole the stuff and hid it until it was open store time. NOT SO! They are way younger than I am, so they do not remember correctly. I was like a vulture, waiting until mom had her back turned from the pile of soon-to-be-disposed items on the floor, and I played search and rescue. Who can complain about that? I was practicing humanitarian social responsibility plus keep the world green goals.

This is to set the record straight. Back in the dark ages, when I was a kid, I practiced recycling and helping mom keep the garbage can less filled with good stuff. I did not steal the toys and assorted items from my siblings. Really. I believe I even remember a few items being given to me by a brother or sister, and then they wanted them back later. Can’t blame me for wanting to turn a profit. Let’s call it storage unit fees.

So we’re even, right?


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One of God’s Blessings

Our home church blessed us by building this baby

Our home church blessed us by building this baby

Check out our new storage unit! Kevin mentioned that we were working on storage (as in constantly sorting, selling, trashing, giving, storing belongings), and our church came up with the great idea to build us our own unit! Wow! What a blessing! Many men and women jumped in to work together to prep, build, and finish the shed. It is so cool. Now we have instant access with a short commute from our house (my sister’s home, which we are renting) of about 45 feet. Whew. Exercise AND saving gas…

God is building our faith and trust in Him as He takes care of the details (of which, we never seem to run out of, but in fact, they continue to increase exponentially). No detail is too small.

Amen to that, sister.


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Engaged and Wedding in Sight

Yakima, WA: Breaking news for the Quantrell family. On December 6, 2008, Chelsie and Collin will get be joined in marriage. Performing the ceremony is Chelsie’s father, PK. Wild and crazy arrangements are being made by the bride and groom, various volunteers, relatives-to-be, and a somewhat frazzled mother.

“We love our baby, Peeps, and think December will be a beautiful month for her wedding,” says mom. “Although she is young, she shows incredible maturity, responsibility, and of course, beauty!”

Winter colors of red, black, and snow white are being featured at the wedding and reception. The dress has been chosen, but is being kept secret. A dessert reception following the ceremony will offer a relaxed time of fellowship and socializing with family and friends.

Come one, come all. And bring your favorite calorie laden dessert.

Engagement Photo

Engagement Photo


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The Good Ol Days

The good old days...Help yourself. Just put your money in the box.

The good old days...Help yourself. Just put your money in the box.

There’s hope. I found it. Just about 5 miles away, in the middle of many orchards, there it was.

I’m so tired of negative news and bad reports and ugly things happening to people. And not so nice people being ugly to their fellow humans. Am I alone is saying, that’s enough garbage? Can I please have some good news (and maybe less mud slinging campaigning please) in the paper and on TV? Maybe that’s why I don’t watch and never seem to know current news. It’s depressing. It’s like looking at grafitti. In our area, if someone does beautiful landscaping or freshly paints buildings, even as I enjoy the new touches, there is a niggle of ‘man, how long will it take for the grafitti artists to spoil that?’ I’d like to figure out how to be a fly on the wall and help local law enforcement cut that crime to zero.

But that’s all negative. Today, I found hope. Hope that there are still good people out there. True neighbors who are willing to take the risk and trust others. As we were driving on Old Naches Highway, I had Kevin stop at a farm that had a sign hanging ~ Apples. Kevin and I pulled into the driveway and up to the barn. There, complete with an old fashioned hanging scale, empty boxes, a wooden wagon full of fruit, and hand lettered signs for the apples, pumpkings, and grapes, was a metal cash can. Right out there in public! Nothing special about the can, just an older decorated metal tin, small enough that dollar bills had to roll around the edges. Instructions said to weigh out your own fruit, bag or box it, and put your money in the tin. That’s it. Lovely, fresh, fall scented, fruits of the valley.

Hope. Found along on an old highway. Serve yourself. I trust you.

Grapes, apples, and pumpkin from Old Naches Highway farm

Grapes, apples, and pumpkin from Old Naches Highway farm

Ahhhh. God Bless Us Everyone.


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Fools for Christ

On the road again (to Boise)

On the road again (to Boise)

(France) What? Are you crazy? Sell the house, car, and belongings, pack up and leave the kids, family, and church? Out of our minds? Fools in the eyes of the world? You bet! What does it take? Obedience and willingness to follow the Lord, wherever He leads, whatever the sacrifice!

Kevin and Angie Quantrell, recently appointed as IMB missionaries to Paris, France, are willing to obey and go. “When we look at what God gave up for us, His only Son, who died a horrible death on the cross, and what Jesus gave up, His rightful place in heaven with His Father, it doesn’t seem silly to sell it all and head overseas to follow Him. The world thinks we’re nuts for giving up careers, home, and family to go and tell people in France about Jesus. What seems foolish to us is to ignore His command to go. He gave us everything, and He will take care of each little detail. Is He our Lord? Is He worth the sacrifice? Yes! Crazy would be saying no…”

We are fools for Christ’s sake, but you are wise in Christ!…

(1 Cor. 4:10a)

Pray for Kevin and Angie as they live foolishly for the Lord, giving their lives as a living sacrifice for the One who gave all for us.

~ Kevin & Angie Q., IMB workers


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Ode to Annabelle

My nanna

My nanna

Webster’s II: ode 2. A lyrical poem often in praise of an object, person, or quality and usually marked by exalted style (2001)

The joy of my kitty, who thinks she’s so pretty,

Fills my heart with big laughter and smiles.

When she is purring, she knows she’s deserving,

Of carasses, loves, treats, ~ no denials!

Overeating, her specialty, she’s addicted to food,

But milk, alas, no, the result is way rude (ugh).

Princess Pinhead

Princess Pinhead

Her belly, ahhhh, soft, white, and so furry,

Rolls abound plenty, mid-aged sag, don’t worry.

They’ve said pets resemble, an owner or two,

Mmmm, I fear to admit, jiggle and rolls prove ’tis true.

OCD she is that, takes after her dad,

With loud demands makes her wants known.

Her cat box must be perfect, her water quite fresh,

Her coat coiffed so neatly, I don’t know who is owned!

Verbal is she, talks a mile a minute;

And dare you talk back, c’mon, just get on with it.

Pound kitty was she, but a family she has now,

Nanna, banana, my black and white cow!

(Don’t tell her I said that, she’s sensitive about her weight!)

Help for Mommy

Help for Mommy

 

Sad but true. Annabanana, Nanna, Banana, Annabelle must live with a new mom and dad when we leave for France. She cannot speak French, and has not passed college entrance exams for taking French courses. So behind she stays, and I know I will miss her warmth, extra fur (found everywhere) and our devotion time where she tries to hog my lap instead of my Bible.

Alas, she will live with her grandma and grandpa. They will be trained very quick, just to her liking. After all, she is a brilliant, verbal, demanding cat!

"I just tell her the words, and she types," says Annabelle.

"I just tell her the words, and she types," says Annabelle.


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Oklahoma City

Testibyte Time

Testibyte Time

We did it! Last Friday, one week ago, Kevin and I were appointed as missionaries in Oklahoma City with 32 of our friends. The service was held at Southern Hills Baptist Church (as Sebastian, my nephew used to say, a Big, Big, huuge, church). The choir was about 75. They had rockin’ worship music and vibe. It was a blessed time for us, one we will always remember.

One portion of the service was when each of the candidates gave his or her, in our case ‘our’ testibyte. We were limited to 155 words, together! Kevin and I both totally messed up during rehearsal…so you can imagine the stress and nerves while waiting to see if it would happen again. Only three units (yes, we are a unit) were after us…so the wait was long. Oh, and after rehearsal, complete with walk-throughs and microphones and seating arrangements, one of the men in charge said, “Oh, and tonight they will have a closeup of your faces on the two big screens that you face (in the rafters). So just don’t look at yourself, and you’ll be fine.” Yikes! Nothing worse than myself magnified by 50% (math people could help with that estimate) and shining off of 3 screens in the auditorium.

We made it! I still blanked out on 2 words, but filled them in with something suitable (I hope). We found that we were able to listen and concentrate more on the entire event AFTER we were done sharing. Fortunately, they video taped (CD’D) the service, and we will receive a copy in about a month. So we can go back and listen and watch it again, without the sound of adrenaline rushing through our ears.

The blessings of our great God, fantabulous friends, adopted family, cool music, good charge to the candidates, chocolate at the reception, … A great time was had by all.

And Tiny Tim said, “God bless us, every one.”


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Uhhhh…

We think we\'re going to France! (official RLM\'s!)

Look-out!

Being eloquent and totally bilingual in French (I hope you recognize sacasm when you read it), I impressed someone who will probably never respect me…

As a part of our journey to live and work in France, we must secure a Visa (not the kind with variable interest rates and bonus points). I wasn’t worried, as we have a French consulate in Seattle, a mere 2 1/2 – 3 hour drive, depending on traffic. I hunted down the phone number and called the consulate, never considering that the people working there could possibly be French citizens (or at least totally bilingual). When the receptionist answered the phone, it was in total and speedy French! I was not prepared. Let me give you a direct quote on of my witty comeback.

“Uuhhhh,” I said.

Quite clever, non? I may as well have handed over my certificate of future French dork. Let’s see, au francais, ‘Je suis une idiot americain.’

I could hear her rolling her eyes (do they do that in France?) and mentally switching gears to help the pathetic petitioner on the line.

Nevertheless, she was quite helpful, and informed me that we had to travel in person to San Francisco to procure our Visa. I’m sure I detected a faint smile when she told me this. After 9-11, the French consulates were reduced to 6 worldwide, and they require in person visits for a biometric (is that the right word????) Visa. Meaning, we will have a microchip on our Visa that includes fingerprints and photo. Ahhhh, technology.

My honey and I are off to San Francisco, probably in August. We will entertain ideas of favorite tourist destinations and/or restaurants. No idea how long we will have to stay, or if we must just buzz back home. Buzz in this case means a day and a half drive one way.

Send us your ideas, s’il vous plait!


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Way Back When

My bad! I haven’t blogged for quite awhile…but who’s counting? Kevin and I are getting ready to head to Richmond, Virginia, and Oklahoma City for our appointment week! Yeah! That means one more step in the process to serve the Lord overseas in east Paris. 🙂

I was reminiscing recently, thinking back to when our 2, Bub and Bubbette (thanks Grandpa) were preschoolers. My journey through missions began then. But my love of all things French started much earlier, high school, or maybe middle school. I was fascinated with the French people and culture. I dreamed of visiting or studying in France. (visited – yes; studied there – no). My mom likes to say I was born French, just in the wrong country.

Fast forward to Kevin and I having 2 little Q’s. I needed something to do with them on Wednesday nights, while Kevin was working with the youth. Nothing was offered for preschoolers or children. Our pastor suggested we try Mission Friends. Wow! What a great and life changing choice for us. The curriculum is great. We had a ball learning about people groups, countries, cultures, customs, foods, languages…and missionaries that lived and worked in different places around the world to tell others about the love of Jesus. With each lesson and unit, I became more and more involved and in love with missions (living with the love, heart, and eyes of Jesus).

Skip forward many years. I was blessed to write curriculum for Mission Friends (another love of mine is preschoolers) and articles for Mosaic. With each assignment, I became thirstier to join the team of those serving the Lord in other lands. My call to missions didn’t happen immediately, but God used numerous layers of experiences to point out and confirm His will for me. Another layer was the mission trips I took. Kevin went with me to Paris to work alongside believers in the city. That trip confirmed our call to serve overseas. It also gave us our destination – Paris.

Leap ahead again! (God knew we would take awhile to be really ready!) We are poised on the edge of leaping totally into His arms of care and into a different culture. Our little Mission Friends are grown up and ready to live independently of mom and pop (ouch! it went so fast). So instead of them leaving home, well, they really have already, mom and dad are moving away!

On Friday, June 27 in Oklahoma City, we will be appointed as missionaries. (Please pray for our commissioning service and the weather! As true northwesterners, we are used to volcanoes, rain, wind, snow, dust, sun, snakes, scorpions…not tornadoes!). Upon our return home, we will prepare in earnest to transfer residence to France. The house is gone, but too much stuff is still hanging around. You know what that means ~ yard sale, storage unit, giving away, selling, packing, loaning…the paperwork alone is daunting. Kevin will still be PK (Pastor Kevin) until December 28. In January, we travel to Richmond for orientation and training. We anticipate being in Paris and attending language school in early April. Tres bien, oui?

Good news – we have YEARS of experience. Bad news – it is harder to learn a foreign language as an older (not ancient) adult. We were even advised of this tidbit at a previous meeting. Sigh. But I do believe these 2 old dogs can learn new tricks – and vocabulary. So, woof woof, I mean au revoir, mes amis.


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Hold on Tight

Have you ever had a song stuck in your brain? I had that song “Hold on tight to your dreams” running through my brain (and out my mouth at weird moments) all day. I had no idea where it came from, but I just kept singing it.

It’s been one of those over busy days. In fact, the next 3 days are like that. I’m looking forward to Monday already! But tonight, I was finishing up some gifts for our Women’s tea, and making homemade chocolates (Grandma Hill’s recipe, yummers, sugar free NOT, maybe I’ll share it later). I decided to call our youngest to check on her. Well, if you know teenagers, they have other things to do besides talk to mom. She barely had time to talk with me – maybe 2 minutes max. Then she had to go and continue with her previous pursuits.

That was a signed, sealed, and delivered invitation to my own personal pity party. Put on the hat and get out the party horn. I had a little whine fest (notice I spelled WHINE, not WINE), thinking of my empty nest, and how the kids have grown up and don’t need me anymore. They are ready for their own life, sans maman (without mom). So what about poor old mom, who is on her way to white hair and dentures, if you ask Peeps. Ok, I confess, I even shed some woe-is-me tears. Just a few. Sheesh. Only the cat seems to need me these days. And the husband.

Then I heard that song. For real, not just in my head. “Hold on tight to your dreams, hold on tight to your dreams, yeah.” You know, it’s a car commercial for a popular brand that is stolen and stripped quite often in our valley. Smell the tires burning and hear the screeching brakes. It was like God put the brakes on my pity party and slapped me back to reality.

“Hello? Are you down there? You need to hold tight to your dreams. Hold tight to my dreams, the ones that I have for you, remember? It’s not over for you. It’s just going to be different. I have some great plans for you, exciting and new adventures. So put away the pity party hat and horn. And hold on tight to my dreams. It’s gonna be fantastic.”

I was reminded of something I recently heard at a Women of Faith conference. When God says Behold, He means be there (be present) and hold on tight, I’m gonna do something great! Hmmmm, behold is used a lot in the Big Book. I better pay attention to that one, be present (it’s way too easy to be somewhere but not be present) and hold on tight, ready for the ride.

So, party is over. Even though I could still sing “It’s my party, and I’ll cry if I want to…” I won’t (at least for now). I’ll just keep that car commercial song playing instead. “Hold on tight to His dreams, yeah!”

I still have a cat on my lap and a sleeping, snoring, drooling (oops, that’s me) husband. Ain’t life grand?