Family Life
Day 1: JMT “In Need of a good washing”
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July 14, 2014
Day 1: Devil’s Postpile to Mineret lake ~ 8.4 miles
My heart, mind, and soul have been in a horse race, jockeying for position. It’s not as if I don’t quickly find myself at home – right where I left off last summer. Within miles from our start at Devil’s Postpile,as soon as the crowds were left behind, the familiar rhythm of clicking along on the trail calmed my soul, just like it always does.
And it’s not as if I am battling with that same fear that once plagued me – the one that had my mind shackled to the ever nagging question, “What if it happens again?”
And furthermore, it’s not as if I am battling an injury that threatens to cut our trip short. All my parts are working good this year. Hips, knees, and feet are all feeling great.
No, all the important things are in place, lined up, and pointing to a great trip. Most of my trail thoughts were just that, “Wow, we are actually doing this – the full JMT – the real McCoy! And today is just the beginning!” I found myself wondering at what lay ahead, this time I did so with excited anticipation of the places we’d see and the interesting people and potential new friends we’d meet.
My mind, soul, and heart, like three horses pulling my carriage, seemed to be trotting along in equal strength and in unison. And then my heart would stumble – sending a jolt through the horse trio that was pulling my carriage up the trail.
My mind attempted to reason with my heart but found it began to falter too. Then my soul stepped up its pace, pulling the other two along and steadying the troop back into rhythm.
This is how I spent the 8.4 miles we hiked since lunch. As memories of recent ER traumatic events popped to the surface, I found my emotions struggling to stabilize.
May 17 was the fateful day my dad shocked us all with a massive heart attack. A silent, lurking killer – my dad narrowly escaped with his life. Nearly two months later, he was just starting to gain strength but progress was slow and peppered with uncomfortable and confusing setbacks.
We spent three separate visits to his home, helping as we could and have decided he was stable, freeing us up to vacation a little. But guilt sets in, what’s a “good” daughter to do? Well meaning and not so well meaning texts filled my phone, confusing me more. Some induced guilt. Some encouraged us to carry on. Some elicited fear. The little girl in me instantly responded to the guilt and thought I should abandon my family to fly to his side. But my mind reasons with that internal little girl that my dad will be fine and just needs a lot of time to find strength again.
God knows how long we all have, reminded my soul to the other two horses, delivering the final and closing arguments that even in living and dying, I need to learn to let go. I am not in control. Stay calm and hike on. Stay calm. Let go.
Yes, the horses jockeyed hard for position and sometimes when the horse of my mind faltered, my heart would also stumble remembering another traumatic moment just two weeks earlier in an ER room in Provo, Utah. “He’s having a heart attack” the cardiologist told us. Fear, shock, and then tears came from Cory as he locked eyes with me across the room. My focus quickly turned to Bekah, who was sobbing and clinging to me while my world went white and I thought I might faint. I got down to her eye level and locked eyes with her, letting our souls speak to each other, as her searching eyes pleaded with me to help her. As we stared deep into each other’s eyes, her soul heard the message: I’m here for you. We will do this together. You are not alone. I love you. My eyes spoke the same message my mouth did, “Daddy’s going to be OK”.
For the next forty-five minutes she cried over and over again, “Please God, don’t take my daddy” while Cade just screamed in terrified anger that his own, youthful daddy would be having a heart attack. Bekah eventually passed out, eliciting a flurry of medics around her and Cade got faint and was quickly ushered to a chair. At one point, all three of them were on hospital beds.
What a roller coaster of emotion we endured as we went from utter fear to complete elation upon learning the heart attack was a misdiagnosis he simply has an athlete’s heart which can throw the ECG off. After extensive testing it was concluded that he has nothing wrong with his heart, sorry for the scare, you can continue with your vacation plans as normal. The cause of chest pain we concluded was simply a pulled intercostal rib muscle from throwing cinder rocks around the week earlier.
Adrenaline shocks to the system like that don’t just disappear overnight. There are after shocks. Many from home have voiced concern that we would venture out in isolated wilderness travel.
So the soul speaks again – he’s been cleared. He’s healthy. Why stop living out of fear? Is not this very trip the very thing you need to reset you, shift the adrenaline button off, and downshift your system?
Come on mind and heart, said the soul, let’s canter in beat, feel the wind in our manes and let the freedom and quiet melt away this doubt. You might limp for awhile and we might be off sync at times, but don’t give up. Press on. Hike on. This is the exact journey you need to get back in unison, back in rhythm.
The moments that first evening when all three horses were galloping in unison, I had time to notice a few interesting and amusing occurrences. Bekah hiked in the lead this first day and only Cade could keep up with her. A far cry from the past years when Bekah fell back, hiking slowly while daddy kept her company. As the kids sped up the trail, they didn’t bicker. It was just the first day but they were enjoying the hike and enjoying each other. They played games like “I Spy” and twenty-questions to amuse themselves. It was how they ended their trail time last summer but last summer it took most of the summer to get to that point, and as I listened to them chuckle over a clever twenty-question answer, it felt as if no time had passed since we found our groove last summer. They just continued where they had left off.
At camp, the tents were set up with ease and Cade sped off to fish, cheering within ten minutes from his first catch. Previous years it took many nights of tears and frustration, trial and error, and a few angry outbursts before the first catch was made. By the time the evening was over, he had landed 22 trout. An expert had arrived at the shores of Mineret lake, amateurs were left in the wake of past summers.
Cory made dinner while I sponge bathed in the lake and soon Bekah and I were atop our mats journaling in compete contentedness. She paused her musings on paper to gather willow branches and grasses to create her first little doll companion of the trek. I hadn’t put two and two together until I found her in rapt attention atop a granite rock with her project that she had purchased tippit so that she could tightly wrap grasses and willow twigs together to create these nature dolls. She came prepared!
After dinner I volunteered to wash dishes as Bekah bathed. As I brought the soiled pot to the lake to fill it up, it occurred to me that we all were like that dirty pot. The year was a good one but as life does, it’s left some grease and scum on us. My dad’s heart attack. My job loss. Cory’s hospital stay. I squirted the soap into the pot, put the cover on it, and walked the requisite 200 yards from the lake, shaking the pot forcefully. As I cleaned each dish in the sudsy lake water, I thought of the same cleaning we were getting , surrounded by the gorgeous rugged skyline of the Minerets. I left the soapy dishes on a rock, emptied the pot of the sudsy water, and returned to the lake for a refill of fresh water. Back and forth I went from the lake to the soapy dishes to rinse away the scum, grease, and soap from each item. Somehow this simple ritual resonated with me. The rugged scenery, quiet evenings, warm mornings, sunrises glistening on lakes, limited to do lists, and all the majesty of this wild place would do as Muir wrote it would do, “Wash your spirit clean” (Alaska Days with John Muir, 1915, chapter 7). Muir told people to, “Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature’s peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop off like autumn leaves.” (Our National Parks, 1901, page 56).
I still wonder how nature does this. How God in nature does this. But it has done this for humanity in time past as it does for humanity now. Once again, we come to our summer hike in need of a good washing.
A Sneak Peek: Chapter One Preview from my upcoming book
At 8,500 feet, I kicked off my barely two-week old marriage sliding down a snowy
embankment, face down and unconscious.
It was day two of our seven-night trip in the Eagle Cap Wilderness of Eastern Oregon (The Wallowa Mountains).
I had spent at least three miles absorbed with my new reality: I was a wife, a spouse, a part of a
duo, no longer answering for just myself. Traveling side by side with my college sweetheart was
the beginning of a lifetime of doing this together. In my mind I sounded profoundly older as I
tossed around my new name: Mrs. I couldn’t have been happier.
And then my world went black.
Cory made a quick grab for me, missing by inches. He was left to helplessly watch his
new bride slam into the rocks at the base of the snowfield. He leapt down the slope, racing as fast
as he could to my unmoving body where he threw down his pack, grabbed the top edge of mine,
and rolled me over. My eyes were rolled back into my head. My mouth gaped, and I choked out
small breaths and grunts. My legs and back were rigid and straight. He tried to make sense of this
nightmare, his mind racing through his emergency wilderness training.
Mike was over 200 feet away across the ravine when he heard Cory scream, “Julie, Julie,
breathe!” He fell to his knees and prayed, begging God for a miracle to spare my life.
Just four minutes earlier, there was no sign I was in trouble. My breathing was labored
but strong and my muscles were tense with the excitement of the descent. My backpack was
loaded with a week’s worth of equipment and food. It pressed on my hips and pulled back on
my shoulders, forcing me to turn into the slope and use my foot to dig into the snow-covered
mountainside.
The dreamlike sparkles of sunlight on the snow stretched before me like a carpet of
diamonds as tiny rocks tumbled ahead and lodged themselves in the gullies below. I could see
our trail exit about 100 feet below us, and I knew that the nervousness I felt about traversing
a steep, snowy slope would disappear the moment I stood on that narrow ribbon of snow-free
I took a deep breath, inhaling cool, crisp air that tasted of sweet tea on a hot day. As I
walked, my mind began to do what can happen on a trail with endless miles ahead. It began to
wander, concentrating on the descent as needed.
“Help, I need help! Mike, I need help!” cried Cory as he knelt down and cradled my
My body relaxed, my eyes closed, and I gave one long final exhale, before I ceased
breathing all together. As Mike ran up the slope toward us, he saw Cory hold my lifeless body
and put his cheek close to my face, hoping to feel me breathing. Then he unclipped my pack’s
hip belt and positioned himself to begin CPR. He checked my neck for a pulse, and when he
found one, paused momentarily to consider the safety of beginning artificial breathing.
Then, without so much as a twitch, my mouth suddenly opened and I gasped for breath.
Two breaths, then three, filled my lungs. My eyes fluttered, and the veil of black turned white. I
opened my eyes to find Cory’s face contorted with fear.
“How are you feeling? I mean, are you okay?” Cory tried, without success, to steady his
“What do you mean? I feel fine.” I said. He helped me to my feet.
My mind felt free, disassociated from my body, like I was floating. I looked up the slope.
Voices sounded muted and distant. I felt confused but not exactly sick.
I noticed Mike climbing the last switchback to reach me. “Hey, oh my gosh, Mike! What
are you doing out here?”
“Really, you don’t remember?”
“Okay, okay, what’s the joke here, guys?”
Mike and Cory were notorious for messing with my mind; a prank was not out of the
ordinary. College roommates for four years, they could finish each other’s sentences. Both in
rigorous academic programs, they often chilled out with their guitars in the evenings. If they
happened to have the same break in their weekly schedules, they’d meet on a muddy trail to
power up local forestry roads and single track on their mountain bikes. More times than I can
count, I’d stop in to visit after class to find them laughing together, mud-splattered as they hosed
down their bikes.
During a particularly difficult time for Cory and me that nearly broke us up for good,
Mike showed up at my doorstep, took me out to coffee, and insisted I tell him my side of the
story. Equipped with the full picture, he was able to bridge the gap between us, a gap we were
not capable of bridging ourselves. We laughed that Mike was the reason we ever made it to
marriage. It was only fitting that he’d be by Cory’s side during the most terrifying singular event
of his life so far.
Mike said, “Well, we’re on your honeymoon hike, you know. We planned this months
ago. You really don’t remember?” He glanced with a furrowed brow and nervous eyes at Cory.
They quickly decided that they needed to get me down to the nearby lake basin to a flat spot and
an area that was more populated. Fifteen minutes later, on our way down the slope, I collapsed
again. This time, Cory was able to watch what was happening and determined that I was having
seizures. This seizure left me far more disoriented. My speech was slurred and the fog that
settled over my mind was thicker.
We were eight miles and over 2500 feet of climbing from the nearest trail head,
surrounded by the stunning granite ridges of the Eagle Cap Wilderness in Northeastern Oregon.
Our cell phone was not operable in this remote location. Our hiking group of friends numbered
eight, only two of whom had any prior backpacking experience. No one in the group had the
medical background sufficient to save the life of someone whose body was trying to asphyxiate
Cory and Mike carried me down the final few hundred feet of trail and placed me in a
tent to get me out of the sun. Less than an hour later, a third seizure rendered me unconscious,
and the seizures repeated every forty-five minutes. With each convulsion, my body became
less and less able to return to normal breathing. My conscious mind was not aware of what was
happening, my body did not hurt, my mind was floating somewhere between dream-like and
completely asleep.
Lying in the tent, I was unresponsive, but still breathing shallowly. Original plans to let
me rest and then hike out were abandoned. For thirty long minutes, Cory and Mike hashed out
ideas for a new plan, but none seemed workable. The guys weren’t sure how many more seizures
I could survive. Desperation set in. They were on the edge of a dark abyss, with few options, and
as the darkness grew, it threatened to suck us all into a place void of hope. Every moment that
passed pushed us all closer to that edge, farther from the known into the depth of the unknown.
As Cory looked out across the expanse to a trail descending into our base camp, what
seemed at first to be a mirage in the distance slowly came into focus. My trail angels arrived in
the form of a mule train, kicking up dust as they made their way to the water below.
Cory sprinted toward them, calling out, “We need help! We need help!”
As the group of horseback riders got closer, Cory could hardly believe his eyes, for
the group that stood before him were forest service personnel, trained for and paid to assist in
emergencies. Light suddenly pierced the darkness.
We were in Oregon’s largest wilderness area by far, at 361,446 acres. Just when the
situation seemed hopeless, these men and women happened by the exact spot. Clearly my time
had not yet come. In all the years and miles that we have hiked since that fateful day, we have
never crossed paths with a mule train of forest rangers again.
Luckily, they carried with them the only form of communication that worked in such a
remote area: a ham radio. They called out to their station that relayed the emergency message to LifeFlight.
Waiting was excruciating. As they monitored my weakening vital signs, time moved
so slowly that Cory began to feel faint himself. He was sick to his stomach, helplessly waiting
for my only chance of survival to arrive. With the sounds of the helicopter approaching, the
impatient crowd snapped into action and Cory’s heart skipped a few beats. Help had arrived.
Paramedics jumped out of the helicopter and ran toward my lifeless form, their hair and
scrubs blowing in the wind of the whipping blades. As they yelled to Cory over the deafening
noise, who brought them up to speed on my condition, I had a sixth seizure. While they attached
wires and probes to me, one looked up at Cory and said, “This cycle she’s in is not good. We got
here in the nick of time. I’m not sure she could have handled many more of these.”
Within five minutes of their arrival they had loaded my body with medicine—stopping
the seizure activity—noted that my temperature had soared to 106 degrees, and transferred me
into the helicopter.
Suddenly the quiet wilderness returned without any evidence that minutes before a giant
machine had pierced the silence, landed, and whisked me away to an unknown fate.
Too shocked to cry, Cory stared up into the night sky in disbelief as the helicopter
disappeared into the horizon, with Mike by his side. Would I live or die? Then he and Mike
hiked through the dark, moonless night, tripping countless times in their pursuit of the hospital.
The next morning, I awoke slowly. I couldn’t connect the dots. Nothing made sense.
The first things my eyes were able to focus on were a bedraggled Cory and Mike leaning on the
window ledge with stooped, tired shoulders and huge grins. They were a mess. Disheveled hair;
caked-on dirt covering their limbs and faces; dried blood everywhere; and puffy, bloodshot eyes.
Thankfully, despite the fact that our backpacking trip was completely erased from my
memory, I had no problem identifying them.
“Good morning, Jools. How are you feeling?” Cory asked.
“I feel fine! What’s going on? Why are you asking me? What am I doing here? You two
look like you need a hospital bed more than I do!”
“Hey, do you remember your name?” to which I promptly rattled off my maiden name,
despite being an O’Neill for a little over two weeks.
In classic form, they broke the tension by messing with my already confused mind.
“No, that’s not right! You and Mike got married. You don’t remember?” Cory asked.
“Really? No way. That couldn’t be right! What’s going on? Am I really married to
Mike?” I glanced first to Cory, then to Mike, then back to Cory.
Even in the fog, I felt the intense connection to Cory. The way he looked at me. The way
he wouldn’t let go of my gaze. I knew in seconds that they were messing with me, and that I was
married to the tall, blond guy who couldn’t take his eyes off of me. Their peals of laughter did
serve to ease my rising nerves, though. But what was I doing there?
And then the story started to unfold. How they hiked all night, falling and tripping
and getting scraped up as they raced to the closest trailhead to get a lift by the forestry service
personnel to their cars, parked hours away. How they drove the rest of the night and finally
arrived at the hospital. How they walked through the doors and were greeted by kind staff who
immediately realized why they were there. How Cory’s first words were, “Is she okay?” How he
and Mike wept when the nurse smiled and said the one word he so desperately hoped he’d hear.
“Yes.”
Unquestioned answers
We live in an age where we do not struggle with
Unanswered questions but rather the issue is
Unquestioned answers.
We get bombarded with answers all day long through flashes on our iphones, Facebook pages, twitters, and computer screens.
Flashes, flashing, lights, camera, action.
But what happens when that all stops. And we can slow down enough to question these answers. Turn them upside down and shake them around and see what comes out.
Perhaps that is exactly what the folks in the Silicon Valley at a very spendy private school have done and the result: a computer free school. Top execs in HP, Dell, Google are sending their kids to computer free schools. Crazy.
Brilliant.
Consider Power Point. Powerpoint was created, after all, as an easy tool for us adults to be able to learn easily and make our presentations a little niftier. Do we have to spend our valuable elementary education minutes and days clicking around in Power point to pick our favorite transition effect or might more creativity be unleashed if we put a group of students together and made them become their own Power point, computer free presentation. Afterall, who is the real creative power behind a slick Power Point presentation? Yep – the creative geniuses behind the creation of the program.
Instead of computers this Silicon Valley school has paper, crayons, yarn, crochet needles, paint, blocks, and endless possibilities.
I love it.
I probably love it because it brings me back to the simplicity of the trail where toys are formed from acorns that get fashioned together to make an acorn squirrel, or twigs become the building blocks for a log cabin, or time is spent just watching clouds ebb and swirl to form characters in a story painted in the sky.
So today I am questioning the answer that was given to me by the technology industry that kids need technology. There’s time and place for it, yes, but when their minds are craving a 3D experience and their hands were created to touch, feel and make things, how much 2D screen time we put our kids in front of is a great answer to question.
Excerpt from my upcoming book: Living Without Walls
When Cade would recount his favorite moments from his 215 mile trek, without missing a beat, he’d say, “Making my own fishing pole out of a willow twig,” adding with a huge smile, “and it worked! I caught fish with it!”
I’ve never seen him beam with such a blinding glow from spending time in front of a screen. Frank Wilson, professor of neurology at the Stanford University School of Medicine concurs, “We’ve been sold a bill of goods – especially parents-about how valuable computer-based experience is. We are creatures identified by what we do with our hands.” Richard Louv adds, “Much of our learning comes from doing, from making, from feeling with our hands, and though many would like to believe otherwise, the world is not entirely available from a keyboard.” 39B
Louv underscores this point as he expands on the real-world effects of a generation that is using their hands less: “Instructors in medical schools find it increasingly difficult to teach how the heart works as a pump as [Wilson] says, ‘because these students have so little real-world experience; they’ve never siphoned anything, never fixed a car, never worked on a fuel pump, may not even have hooked up a garden hose. For a whole generation of kids, direct experiences in the backyard, in the tool shed, in the fields and woods, has been replaced by indirect learning, through machines. These young people are smart, they grew up with computers, they were supposed to be superior – but now we know that something’s missing.” 39C
Ankle deep, our little fisherman followed by his adoring sister, ventured into the river to snag a fish. Within ten minutes, to our surprise, his homemade pole was bobbing with a 6” Golden Trout. Cheers echoed off the canyon walls. He caught one more fish that night and went to bed beaming.
The why just embedded deeper into one 11-year-old boys heart.
Christmas Letter 2011
From Nicaragua
we have had an amazing year. Every year seems like a better one then the last, and this one is no exception. It’s been such a full year that somehow the news that we sold our home (in 5 days!) in September barely even made the list to be mentioned here!
Cory is working hard to develop and implement the engineering program at Redmond High School, as the department head. He loves the hands on classes he is teaching that inspire kids to come in during their lunch and groan when class ENDS. Julie continues to teach High school Spanish, elementary music, and piano at Central Christian School (and in our private home studio) where Cade and Bekah are 5th and 3rd graders. Both kids have found a love for soccer and are progressing nicely on the piano (and a little guitar!). My big project of the year culminated on Dec. 14th, with our elementary Christmas musical of 2 showings to a crowd of at least 700 folks that watched us sing, dance, and act out the truth that it truly is better to give than receive!
Our summer adventures began on June 20th when we hooked up the trailer and said goodbye to our home for a 10 week life on the road. It started in Zion National Park for 10 days. Then off to Nicaragua for 3 weeks. After Nica, we “convalesced” at Bryce National Park as Nica was quite exhausting. It was nice to get home to safe water, food, dry air, and our own vehicle after giving 110% for 3 weeks. 
We then enjoyed a 5 week stay in Eastern California where we backpacked over 150 miles in the Sierras and camped in between trips. Nothing beats the Sierras for the O’Neills!!
Our mission trip in Nicaragua for 3 weeks was life changing, to say the least! It is our sincere prayer that we will get to return in a summer. I loved being able to connect with the locals through Spanish conversation and Bible schools I lead but it was amazing to watch all 4 of us discover our niche there. The kids played with the kids day after day as if they knew Spanish – Love knows no language! 
Cory and I got to spend a day fitting folks with eye glasses and never grew tired of watching faces of young and old light up when we found the right prescription and they could see for the first time!
Cory also spent about 10 days working on an orphanage property installing solar panels – this was not pre planned. We heard about the orphanage, gave them a quick call, showed up and found that they had been praying for an engineer to come and help them with this project (and needed a worship leader too which Cory enjoyed doing in the evenings). Cade helped daddy a lot
while Bekah and I played with the kids, led a Bible school, and helped in the kitchen.
Here’s the main solar tower completed and ready to be anchored in the ground:
The truth about short term mission trips is that it allows us to go to a different part of the planet and see a different face of God in the lives of those that live there. We did get to do some amazing hands on helping type projects, but the real lessons were the ones our hearts learned through the gracious people we met while there.
With all these epic trips, some of the best memories are contained in the simple essence of those moments when we deeply connect with someone -(Bullfrog lake below: another 12,000 foot lunch at an exquisite lake!)
holding hands with Cade as we walk across a campground, a killer run that gets the sweat pouring, going out to coffee with a friend, a hug from a student, tea time with Bekah or a quick surprise visit from someone all weave the days together with true joy. 
We do feel so blessed at our full and bountiful life and for your friendship in our lives. May you have an amazing 2012, where you seize each day with joy and hope.
Love, the O’Neills
Cory, Julie, Cade, and Bekah
Our next adventures
In 2 years, for our 15th wedding anniversary, how about we take the family on a mission trip to serve others in need as a way to celebrate being a family for 15 years…?”
– Cory, August, 2009
Dear Friends and Family,
It’s hard to believe that we are on the precipice of celebrating 15 years of marriage, but we are. As a way to commemorate our 15 years together as a family, Cory dreamed, as we hiked in a high-Sierra trail in 2009, that during the summer of our 15th year together, we’d take our entire family to Nicaragua on a mission trip. The trip is being planned through our church, Redmond Community Church for the Mustard Seed Missions, which was started by our friends Michael and Lisa Perkins over 5 years ago. http://www.themustardseedmission.org/
It is our heart’s desire to give our children experiences that will immerse them in what it truly means to give, selflessly, and to recognize the need for Jesus goes beyond our political country boundaries to all people. Nicaragua is one of the poorest countries in Latin America with very little infrastructure or modern conveniences. Families often have little choice but to let their young children scavenge in garbage dumps for food and their daughters to work the streets for money. Unlike in the U.S., there is not a safety net of social services that provides basic needs like food, medical care, and education to people in poverty. By joining efforts with the ongoing ministry that Michael and Lisa have established, we strive to be part of a loving movement that is breaking family cycles and changing legacies. Vocational training for women, feeding and nutritional training programs for the hundreds of people that are living in the Managua city dump, and building projects for homes in major disrepair are just a few of the things we will have the privilege of being part of. Our days there will be jam packed!
The dates of our trip are July 2 – July 10th, 2011. We are very excited for this amazing opportunity! We hope to bring our own special touch to the team through leading worship as well as Julie’s understanding of the Spanish language, that will hopefully allow her to connect with the local people at a deeper level. Our children are natural ice breakers as they easily make friends and will be a vital part of the team as they reach out and connect with Nicaraguan children in a way that only other children can do. And finally, Cory, being the talented work horse that he is, plans to put in long hours, building and repairing infrastructure.
We are humbly writing to you to ask you, first and foremost, to please keep us in your prayers over the next months and during the time we are in the country. Specific prayer requests are:
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Health and safety while in Nicaragua (no malaria or dengue fever please!)
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That this time of ministry would draw our family closer together and closer to God
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That our time in Nicaragua would allow us rich connections with the people in Nicaragua
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That God would open or close doors as He leads to pave the way for us to bring high school students and our family back to Nicaragua in future summers
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That funds for the trip would be provided for
We are also writing to you to ask you to consider partnering with us financially to make this trip possible. The total cost for the trip is $5000. As I type that number, I truly feel all at once overwhelmed by it and confident that since God Has prompted our hearts to want to go that He will clear all obstacles to making that happen. To help keep track of your support, we are asking that you send any donation through our church. Address the checks to RCC and note “O’Neill Nic trip” in the memo line. Your entire donation will be tax deductible. We will send you a tax statement (and a big smiley thank you note/letter of what we did on the trip ) in time for your April 2012 taxes!
Leave a comment with your email address so I can send you a support letter and address of where to send your donations to. Thank you so much for considering joining us in this new adventure into God’s Great Plan!
Santa is still coming to our house
Over this issue of Santa Claus I can sense that I might be in the minority in our Christian school but our family has had fun with the idea for years. Bekah still enjoys the giggling fun of Santa. My own pastor dresses up as Santa for his kids (when they were younger anyway!). It’s just fun. And fun is good! 🙂
We also celebrate Advent all month as well as St Nick’s day where we learn about St Nick – but on Christmas morning, Santa Claus and his reindeer visit our house. I actually kinda believed in this fun little fantasy through 7th/8th grade.
As a mom now, I love that I can give to my children “in secret” as this is a Christ like model of giving that someday, my kids will be able to do for their own children. I now look back on Christmases of my youth and tearfully realize, that my parents were the sacrificial givers of those gifts I knew had to be from Santa because “there was no way they could afford it.” That’s Christ like love personified.
I whole heartedly agree with James Dobson’s perspective on this and thought I’d send it along:
“Can Teaching Your Children about Santa Claus Interfere with Their Spiritual Beliefs Later in Life.”
James Dobson: “I don’t believe that those early, early fantasies really interfere with later Spiritual beliefs. I haven’t seen any evidence of that, either in the life of my kids or in the lives of those I have had anything to do with. To allow a little bit of fantasy in a child’s life enriches his intellectual life and I think he needs it. Children thrive on fantasy. It enriches our mental existence. Reality can be a pretty cold and hard place. I think children need the fantasy that Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and other childhood mythical creatures bring.
Dr Bill Maier: Childhood fantasies can be fun and help develop a child’s imagination. As long as the fantasies are not unhealthy, there is no need to “correct” your kids any earlier than necessary”
For this same commentary in audio form here is the link:
Summer sun has set
We play hard. We do.
A 2 month road trip (5,000 miles of road gravy!)? There were some moments when I might have wanted to dilute the concentrated togetherness, when the trailer or tent seemed a bit too cozy, and when I did wish I could just drop them off to play with someone else for a change. I knew I would and sure enough I am, kicking myself for even daring to think these thoughts. In these precious few years where I am still “Mama” and the playmate of choice, I am so grateful that our lives allow for such concentrated time together. So, YES, I will go toss the football with you all afternoon after swimming with you all morning. YES!! Summer months are rather liberating for kids, I think, because the adults in their lives can say Yes more – sure we can have icecream for lunch, why not! – sure we can get up, skip chores, and bike all day, why not! – sure we can swim all morning and eat berries and honey all day – why not! It’s that blessed time of year where “No, it’s a school night” turns into “YES!”
We were not indoors (other than our trailer or our backpacking tents) once. But what we were doing is a lot of looking into each others eyes, holding hands, eating every single meal together – all day – laughing – a ton – swimming, running, jumping, and of course….
walking miles of trails, getting gallons of water out of pristine streams, seeing God paint the canvas above with insane colors every evening…
Courtesy of www.coryjoneillphotography.com
courtesy of http://www.coryjoneillphotography.com
You light up the sky to show me You are with me
I I I can’t deny
No I can’t deny that You are right here with me
You’ve opened my eyes
So I can see You all around me
Light light light up the sky
You light up the sky to show me
Dear Cade
Since he wrote us a letter, I decided I oughta write him one. How fun it is to write love letters back and forth! Thank you Bo, from http://bostern.wordpress.com/ for your inspiration for my letter.
Dear Cade,
I look at you and see a boy who knows for sure that he is a fast runner, a good leader, a strong kicker and a smart thinker. 
At nine, your only kryptonite is “perfectionism”, but somehow your weakness with that seems to make everything else more charming. You love to play and love to win, but you also love to try. You give everything 110%, even though it scares the perfectionist in you to find your limits. 
I love your spark, your joy, your refusal to – almost never – give up. I love that you believe in the goodness of the people around you and pray that someday you’ll believe in the goodness in you. I love how your eyes twinkle when you are learning, that you crave to learn about anything and everything, including your insatiable desire to read the Bible.
But I wonder (and this is where the mom road gets a little rough)…
…who will be the first to bend your belief system? Someone will do it. Someone will make sure you understand that you aren’t that great or that fast or that kind. Someone will disregard your sparkling storytelling abilities and define you by your internal struggle to define everything in this world as black or white as you painfully learn, this is an impossible pursuit.
A boy who hasn’t been well-loved will want to become a winner by making you a loser. An insecure girl will make herself feel beautiful by convincing you that you are ugly. It will happen.
And sometimes – as crazy as it sounds – I am tempted to pave the way for the breaking. Sometimes I feel like I should prepare your heart for the sting of reality. To soften the blow of that moment when you will feel the rush of the wind, only to discover it’s someone passing you by; winning your race. I wrestle with the dueling desires to “build-you-up” and “let-you-down-easy” and so I ask for wisdom.
Wisdom that keeps me from speaking words that would define or destroy.
Wisdom that helps you learn to define yourself less in terms of black and white, because that system will only leave you believing you are less than your Creator made you to be, and more in terms of the beautiful rainbow of colors that make you YOU.
Wisdom that helps you find both your breaking and building in the arms of Jesus.
Wisdom, to hold you close and launch you freely into a world that isn’t kind, but so deeply needs someone a lot like you.
So I stand in the shadows of your indefatigable optimism and I pray that when the day comes that you discover that there are those who cannot cheer you on, no matter how much they may secretly want to; you will hold tightly to the knowledge that there are those who always will. No matter what.
We love you more than words can say,
your Mommy and Daddy, Bekah, Grandma, Grandpa, Nana, and Papa
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Is it possible that I learn more from my kids then they do from me?
My little Wildman Sprout has been leaning more towards the “wildman” then the “sprout” in his 3rd grade year. He is testing the waters, figuring out what might work in this world and finding out, the hard way, that, darn it, life is hard.
My guy is a bit too smart for his own maturity. His little body has not caught up with his brain and all this is trying to wrestle itself out, crammed in a school desk all day.
His loving teachers are constant reminders to me that, sigh, it does indeed take a village to raise a child and they are part of our village.
Instead of coming up with excuses today like, “why should I do homework when I get As in everything?” he took the advice in stride, seemingly understanding that in the real world, we all have to do things we don’t want to do or even sometimes see the point of at all and that part of responsibility is sucking it up and being willing to do our best, always, even when it’s the last thing we want to do.
And then he wrote us this letter (note: Character grades are given in 7 different areas with 2s and 3s being the lowest and 1s being the highest):
Dear Mommy and Daddy,
I am a new kid now. I have changed very much. I won’t lie. I won’t be a distraction in class. I will slow down in my work. Everything you said I will do. You will find me getting nonstop 1s on my report card. You will find As on tests. You will find the teacher saying “Cade has been wonderful.” All those bad memories are gone. I have a brand new start.
What I learned from this: May I always be as teachable and willing to be molded by God as my son is.
May I: find the eternal treasure in the temporary trial.
Filled up
Simple post to say how filled up I am today –
- With the joy of spending my life with such an amazing friend, gentle man, and the encourager of my soul
- With my son’s joy and exuberance for every thing he does, his swimming lessons he is doing with his class, his soccer practice in the evenings with his traveling team, his book reports, his family
- With my daughter’s creative approach to life – through cards for every one for anything, her eagerness to dance to an Uncle David song at the school talent show, how she sings and twinkles during most moments of her day
- With my many jobs – from teaching my students piano to hanging out with high school students in my Spanish classroom and co-creating choreography with my elementary students during music class to touring the country with my brother doing shows
FILLED to overflowing. Our GOD is so good.
What is your heart filled with today?
Julie A. O'Neill 
