Or how about double everything? (Stuart, 3 months) 

Double chins aren't so bad, Rose. (Stuart, age 3 months) 

Hurricane Update

I haven't talked to my family since Monday, when Rosemary called to say that at least two households in the clan are fine. They don't have power or phone down there right now (I guess it's a minor miracle that Rose's cell phone worked). Since I haven't heard anything else, I'm assuming the rest of my family is fine, too. No news yet about property damage, or indeed about anyone else I know down there. I guess news will trickle in eventually.

Because Lucedale is inland, unlike Mobile, Biloxi, or Gulfport, my little hometown probably didn't get hit as badly. That, and lots of prayers from friends!

I hope to hear more soon. Thanks so much for all of y'all's concern.

-- SJ

In the Path of Katrina

Generally Mississippi isn't a bad place to live, but hurricane season can get on your nerves. Katrina is Category 5 (165 mph winds), and predicted to hit anywhere from Gulfport to New Orleans. My tiny little hometown is right in the middle. It's supposed to roar in early tomorrow, so please pray for my family.

-- SJ

Vindication

Recently we were chatting with Wayne, whose daughter often babysits for us. He mentioned that while Sarah was playing The Sims, she decided to create and play the Joneses. Two adults, two children, how hard could it be?

After a week, Sarah used a cheat code to get more money, and hired a maid. She said she couldn't handle it.

-- SJ

My Gift, Your Gift

Darren read somewhere (ha, there's an unsurprising start to a post) about what the author called "gift projection." It's one of those handy little terms that encapsulates a concept. As created beings we're all endowed with different talents, and as re-created Christians we're given spiritual gifts for the good of the church. And, then, as self-centered fallen humans we expect everyone else to be just like us. That's gift-projection.

Someone with the gift of evangelism may expect everyone to be able to meet, witness, and add to the Kingdom of God with remarkable success. "It's not like I do anything special. I just witness. You can, too!" Someone with the gift of hospitality may expect everyone to enjoy having vast numbers of strangers in their homes. "The more people we have in our house, the more God blesses us! Why don't you do it every Sunday, too?" Someone who can teach, insists that teaching is enjoyable once you get into it. Someone who sets up and runs events can't see that she's doing anything special, just following her list; can't you take it over next month? And so on.

I'm not saying (here goes the usual disclaimer) that some of us don't have to evangelize, extend hospitality, teach, help with ministries and events, etc. just because we weren't given those gifts. It's just that we're a whole lot better at certain things. Often, since we so enjoy those activities, we don't understand how it can be draining to someone else without our gifting.

Of course I'm sensitive about being projected upon: three of the four examples above are definitely not my areas, and at times I've felt pressured to conform to them. But since I haven't exactly pinpointed my gifts, I'm probably even worse about projection.

I think it's an interesting concept, and one I try to keep in mind. Even on a human level, what I find energizing, enthusing, and enjoyable is not necessarily a universal pleasure. (Anybody for writing a story using seven words related only by their spelling? That was my activity of choice in third grade.) The Church, and the world in general, would be a better place if humans would just let each other be what they are uniquely designed to be. And also if everyone could learn to write well.

-- SJ

Princess and Prince: The Division of the Kingdom

Yesterday we played Princess and Prince.

"Oh, Princess Addie, I'm the queen, and I'm very sick. Can you go into the forest and find a special flower that will make me feel better?"

Off scampers Princess Addie. (You can tell she's the princess because she's wearing a wimple and cloak, which doubles as a baby's hooded "Dalmatians" towel). She returns clutching a single, delicate, completely invisible flower. The queen sniffs it and immediately revives. Princess Addie glows.

Then the queen turns to Prince Stuart. "There's a big, fat, mean, ugly troll outside and it wants to gobble us up!" (The queen has seen the same "Three Billy Goats Gruff" video that Prince Stuart has.) "Can you go get it?"

Prince Stuart brightens and sets off on his quest. (You can tell he's the prince because he carries a noble blade, which many mistake for a plastic tennis racket.) "I GOT it!" he shouts. Then he adds, "I will put it in the cage."

The quests pile on fast and thick. Princess Addie brings the queen some water, finds a gold ring, and locates the queen's lost baby in the woods. (The queen asks her to put the baby in its cradle. Princess Addie does, then says, "And put the top down and lock it." And you thought Ezzo was strict.) Prince Stuart captures a mean dragon, a mean giant, a mean snake, and another mean troll. He puts them all in his cage. Prince Stuart evidently is of a new breed of humane knights.

Then the queen, not wanting to restrict activities based on gender -- seeing as the queen herself, as a young princess, defended her entire kingdom from imaginary enemies on a regular basis -- says to Princess Addie, "Can you help Prince Stuart fight off another big mean snake?"

Instantly Princess Addie transforms into a wilting damsel. "No! I can't! Prince Stuart will do it!" Which he does. Princess Addie resists all other suggestions that she join in the defense of the kingdom. However, upon being told that some baby kittens are threatened by another big mean fat ugly troll (it's a bad day for the kingdom), rushes immediately to their rescue.

The queen thinks the division of labor between the princess and prince is very funny, and really does prefer her daughter rescue kittens and her son fight trolls. Just as long as Princess Addie learns some basic carriage maintenance, and Prince Stuart can cook his own hearty stew over the open fire, the royal parents will be happy.

-- SJ

Subtle Signs of Virtue

Last night as I was getting ready for bed, I glanced over and saw Darren reading a magazine. I laughed, and he looked at me questioningly.

"It's just that most men reading a magazine like this --" I took the magazine and held it sideways, open at the middle, as he had been doing -- "usually aren't reading recipes out of Taste of Home."

It reminded me how fervently grateful I am for a man who protects and upholds his purity. And also it gave us a great laugh before bed.

-- SJ

Guilt to Go

As an angst-filled teenager, I thought I was familiar with guilt. Which is a lot like saying that I knew what labor pains felt like. Now that I'm a mother, I *specialize* in guilt.

Guilt over Addie's infection and hospitalization when she was seven months old. Guilt that she didn't talk till she was two and a half. Guilt that Stuart coughs until he throws up. Guilt that they are such enthusastic video-watchers.

But now I've discovered a new and unexpected source of mother-guilt. For the past couple of weeks I've realized that I've been sitting around while my kids *play all by themselves.*

Understand my dilemma here. Of course it's good that they entertain themselves. But am I being Interactive if I don't get down on the floor with them and make the plastic eggs talk, too? I mean, honestly... I've FINISHED TWO BOOKS IN THE LAST WEEK! Obviously I can't be doing it right if I have time for myself, right?

Seriously, part of me has to watch out that I don't push them away for my own convenience, because that is definitely one way my sin nature expresses itself. But mostly I'm able to laugh at myself... after I put aside the inspiring articles in parenting magazines for a while. When I'm able to look beyond myself, I realize how fun it is to watch Stuart line up his plastic egg halves and make them talk, or observe Addie in her daily marathon between the front door and the couch (she runs from the door to the couch, then the couch to the door, then the door to the couch...)

And then I wonder if it's normal for Addie to run marathons through the living room, or for Stuart to play for half an hour with eggs... And then I put down my book and we go outside. It's hard to maintain mother-guilt when you're looking at beetles together.

-- SJ

If...

If you can open your eyes in the morning, stretch, and break into an on-the-spot composed song about stars in the heavens, you're either in love or four years old.

-- SJ

How to Build a Church in One Day

Our tiny little mission church, already scandalously blessed to have two musicians among our three core families, has found a meeting place to rent. Not only that, but the landlady approved all kinds of construction to convert it from Former Video Store to House of God.

Our pastor, Fr. Tim, is not a man who makes do with what he has. Instead, he figures out what he wants and makes it happen. Early this morning, several people from a couple of other churches, including a very accomplished carpenter/plumber/all-around useful person, arrived at our potential church and set to work. They tore out some walls, built two new ones, built a platform, painted walls and trim, and kept a construction-model CD player blaring over the saws, nail guns, and bustle. Darren worked till 4, then took the kids and let me go help out. When I left at 8, they still had ceilings to fix, a room to panel, and the platform to carpet. But it looked like a sanctuary, because of the enormous dark wooden cross which dominates the back wall.

It is an enormous blessing not only to have our very own building for worship -- most churches in our area meet in community halls and schools -- but to have it converted for worship in just a day. Up till now, we've been very grateful that God led us to the church we needed so much. Now, going to church is about to become that much more exciting!

-- SJ

O, Canada

We've just returned from the Annual Jones Gathering, an exclusive event for only twelve of the worldwide Jones population. Last year we congregated in Maine, but this year we made the full pilgrimage up to Nova Scotia. It was a good week of beaches, ice cream, Prince Edward Island, great meals, and a large front yard swarming with grandkids (still five at last count; this year was my and Darren's turn to produce, but we missed our cue).

I'm not a beach person: I burn too easily and I don't like sand pervading every area of my life. But did I ever love the Nova Scotia beach! The sand is dark red. The water is cold but very clear, and the ocean floor is rocky. Lindsay and I conducted meticulous jellyfish research, also. ("It's dead, right? Can it sting you if it's dead?" "I don't think so. Here's a shell. Pick it up." "This is wicked cool! It can't sting if it's dead, right?" "I don't think so...")

It was particularly fun to watch the kids together this year. Addie and Chloe (4 and 2) are both agile and independent, while Jed and Stuart (5 and 2) are loud and energetic. Tucker (1) is simply adorable; every so often, one of the older kids would get down and crawl around with Tucker and giggle hysterically. Meanwhile, Stuart thought Jed was the greatest thing to come along since Daddy.

We got home Sunday after a stopover at the New England Joneses' house. The most excitement there was that their cat Emily had a kitten (yes, one kitten) up in the underside flap of the master bed (yes, inside the bed). At one point, Jill walked into the room to find that Chloe and Stuart had dragged out both the cat and the kitten, and was playing with them on the bed. As Stuart reported to me, the kitten was white and black, had pink toes, and whined.

Yesterday was our recovery day, and this morning we return to real life. To be cliched about it, it's very good to be home.

-- SJ

Respectfully Submitted

I've been reflecting on the concept of Submission lately. (Darren told me I could come out of my room when I was ready to obey.) The way that I learned "Scriptural submission" works -- husband rules the home, wife defers to husband, husband must heed his wife's cautions but wife can't rule husband -- isn't the way it came about when I married my dearest friend and (dare I say it?) equal. Darren and I practice much more a "mutual submission," where each of us has the right to speak into the life of the other.

But after I'd pondered this subject for a while, and written up a long post extolling the good and enlightened way that we operate, I realized that some of it was due to our generational age, and much of the rest due to our personalities. So much for changing the world. At least we're happy.

-- SJ