thought on weather

~Post by Brin

I was annoyed as a child hearing my aunt say "You don't like the weather here?  Wait a few hours and it will change." It annoyed me because my other aunts in other states said the same thing. My personality really doesn't do well with frivolous talk, which explains why I have a hard time saying the culturally obligatory "Tudo bem? (Everything good?)" to the lady at the market when all I want is to buy some pineapples and leave. But at the heart of that weather quip lies an interesting truth. The weather did change in Minnesota, that occurred to me while I tried to teach my 5th graders about meteorology and they claimed they had never seen a meteorology report on TV or anywhere really. Well, that blew my whole lesson. Their equatorial life is rain, heat, rain, heat. Do we really need someone to tell us what we already can guess? 

So about weather, I am not a big prayer on that subject. Because I assume that if I am praying for rain, someone else is praying for clear skies. And why should I get what I want? It has been raining for weeks. But I stubbornly planned for Mia's birthday party to be outside. The day arrived and it rained off and on all day just like every other day. But it cleared off an hour before the party and only started to sprinkle just as I was handing out the party favors at the end. I didn't pray for that, one of my students informed me she did and I thanked her and thanked God. 

Mia turned 8 on the 8th. Which my daughters concluded warranted a big celebration. My plan was to have Josh take her up in a plane and call it good. But planes were gone, pilots scarce and we all know about gas prices. So a jungle fairy party in the backyard it is. We invited EVERY girl in the ENTIRE elementary school. Which came to 12 girls. And they all showed up wearing such sweet little fairy costumes, except 1 feisty girl who came in a cowboy outfit complete with guns. Josh and I saw her approach and exchanged looks communicating, "this is gonna be hilarious!" We were not disappointed.

I decided to really impress myself and invite the WHOLE elementary, even the boys. All 4 of them, and technically I recruited them to be ogres that would surprise the fairies by stealing the cake and leading the fairies on a scavenger hunt into the jungle. The boys were up for it and did their roles a little too well. In the middle of Gabriella's "how to be a fairy" lesson, the ogres roared in, grabbed the cake and ran into the jungle. Mia, thinking they were real life party-crashers, stands and yells at them to go away and to quit ruining her party. When no one listens she runs to her room in tears. Some of the fairies (as you can see in the picture) ran the other way, some just stood watching in surprise. The cowboy begins yelling, "Davi (who had taken her guns)!,  Davi! I need my guns!" Now that is entertainment. But we can't laugh too long because someone needs to comfort the birthday girl and coax her out of her room. We tromped into the jungle in search of the cake and I carried one of the frightened fairies even though one of the ogres was her cousin.

Fifth grade ogres and the cake they stole. And no, I didn't trust them to run through the jungle with the real cake. I put out a decoy covered with a pillowcase.

I had to give grades this week. How does that work? For homeschool I just handed out high-fives and rainbow stickers. Gabriella is now preoccupied with her report card, never before having feedback given so explicitly.

An unexpected trip

Harlan Pflederer
September 29, 1917 - February 19, 2012

I'm sitting in an airport terminal as I await my return to Brazil, the memories of the past week tumbling around in my head.   The joy of reconnecting with friends and family as well as the mixed feelings associated with losing a loved one who truly lived a life worth celebrating.  My grandfather, Harlan Pflederer, passed away at the age of 94.  The strongest of my many thoughts and emotions is an overwhelming sense of gratitude.


I shared at the funeral about a memory of my grandpa telling me as a kid, while watching sports on TV, that he roots for whoever is losing.  It's clear to me now that he also had a similar outlook in other areas of his life.  He was drawn to the underdogs, the struggling, the weak.   Everyone that knew him, it seems, has a story of how he touched them, often in an hour of need.  In fact, over a hundred people have taken the time to share a special memory on a Facebook page set up for him during his final days.


I'm grateful to have spent a week talking about, remembering and honoring my grandpa.  I'm grateful as well for all the memories I have of him, many of which involve him doing something to bless others.  But more than all, I'm grateful for the legacy he has left.  A legacy that draws me forward when I find this Christian life difficult.  A legacy not of how to win at this life, but how to embrace what is really important.  A legacy that is sobering as I contemplate if I will ever live up to that standard that has been set.  But I suppose grandpa would be the first to point out that he was nothing special, just a man who loved his Savior.

All of my siblings together for the first time in several years.

(Last two photo credits go to Angie Puckett Photography)