pensieve.me

Everyday Mentors and Village People (WHAT could those have in common?)

I was a bystander this time, an observer, learning a lesson again I am so quick to forget:

Words are powerful and persuasive and have the capacity to change lives.

I know this, I even live it, but watching and witnessing a relative stranger speak wisdom into my teen son’s life, I saw it fresh, new.  The conversation’s effect was palpable–you could almost see wheels turning in my boy’s head.

 

Please continue reading Everyday Mentors and Village People at Simple Mom today.  YOU really DO have the power to alter the course of another's life with a word of encouragement, calling out gifts and talents you see and speaking with passion about something you love.  This was a recent lesson and challenge to me and I hope it serves as one to you, too.

Stop this train

"Want me to play for you?"

I've watched this one grow from boy to man, a day's change imperceptable, but the years impossible to miss.  His brown eyes dance and his smile curls with ease and I'm never quite sure when he's sneaking something past.  This one is a charmer.

He's a natural at so many things - sports...music - and he's rare in just as many ways:  unashamed to ask me to pray for the people he cares about, gratitude on his lips in response to the most simple of gestures, concern about disappointing the adults in his life, regard for authority.  And he takes as long as a girl to get ready to go out.

He was the first friend to ask my son to come over when we moved here almost ten years ago.  I remember asking the elementary principal about their family because I didn't know anything about anyone here. 

I was grasping for the kind of knowing that comes from living in the same place for long enough to grow a life.  We had only been here weeks and that was futile, little more than a mother's wish. 

So, he's here last night, and I'm aware time with him - and The Others Like Him - have numbers ticking the days left.  College...moving...moving on.

It's been a time, a season, a good one, a rich one. 

The kids in my children's lives have been Community to me in a way I never expected.  They love me, they tell me things, they listen. 

I love them, I tell them things, they listen.

The older ones come back sometimes, too, even when my children aren't here. 

So he asks me if I want to hear him play, and I'm genuinely touched that he'd ask.  That he's brave enough for an audience of one.  That he wants me to listen.

And I'll be damned if it's not John Mayer.  It had to be John Mayer....

See once in a while when it's good
It'll feel like it should
And they're all still around
And you're still safe and sound
And you don't miss a thing
'til you cry when you're driving away in the dark.

Singing stop this train I want to get off and go home again
I can't take this speed it's moving in....

 

It was beautiful.  It was a paycheck to a mom. 

He has no idea my heart exploded.

 

Garden + HEART = Celebration

I couldn't believe my ears.

"Would you write a post to promote our Garden Celebration?"  

It's the first time anyone in my family asked me to write about something so it must be pretty important.  I've often contended there is no great honor than using your voice on behalf of others, so I am thrilled to introduce you to a Special Place and tell you about their Very Special Event:

My girl is interning at h.e.a.r.t. Institute in Lake Wales, Florida this semester, an amazing, one-of-a-kind missionary training institute.  The first thought when you hear the words "heart institute" is cardiac care, but in this case it's an acrostic for Hunger Education And Resource Training.

Tomorrow, Saturday, April 20, h.e.a.r.t. is opening its doors to the community, offering seminars led by fantastic speakers and treating guests to authentic jambalaya prepared by a real Cajun. The day's Key Note Address will be by Dr. Martin Price, founder of ECHO, another amazing organization that equips those who give their lives to serve others.  Attendees can select three seminars, a difficult choice when you see the list to choose from:

• Alternative Cooking Methods 
  
• Aquaponics
  
• Biochar
  
• Edible Forest Gardening 
  
• Family Gardening for the Body, Mind and Spirit 
  
• Hydroponics
  
• Little Sprouts (activities for children 2-12)
• Perennial Food Plants 
• Raising Backyard Chickens
• Soil Life Approach to Gardening 

My husband and I had the opportunity to tour h.e.a.r.t. when we dropped off our daughter in January; I've never seen anything like it.  The entire staff welcomed us with warm, open arms and we got to see some of their projects in various stages of completion.  Students learn to re-purpose everything and gain invaluable insight into "using what you've got" when working in impoverished areas.  

Though I didn't notice on the Garden Celebration schedule of events, I'm sure if you ask you can visit the goats, chickens and bunnies!  We happened to see a trained chicken when we were there--who knew you could train a chicken to sit?!

Learning is hands-on at h.e.a.r.t.  Students earn college credit and can choose between a 15-week semester program or a 3-week short course.

We would never have heard about h.e.a.r.t. had our daughter not attended a conference where they were exhibiting two years ago.  Seeing the impact it is having in her life, coupled with her desire to serve others (whether domestically or in developing countries), makes me want to introduce this organization to as many people as possible.  

With that in mind, I'm extending a strong call to action:

1. If you live in the Lake Wales area (Polk County, central FL, south of Orlando), ATTEND the Garden Celebration tomorrow.  Up to two children are free with each paying adult. 
2. Share this post with your friends.  You may not live close enough to attend, but maybe some of your friends do.  Pleasepleaseplease Facebook Like and/or Share, Tweet, Pin, Email, Stumble or whatever this post or h.e.a.r.t.'s site to expose their amazing organization to others.  
3. If you're considering service abroad, or if your older children are interested in missions work, attend H.E.A.R.T.'s semester or short course. My daughter had completed three semesters of college before working as an intern this semester and she is blown away by this practical educational experience.  
4. Donate.  While the Garden Celebration is all about connecting h.e.a.r.t. to the Lake Wales and surrounding community, it is also a fundraiser.  Your generous donation will enable them to offer similar future events and to continue their important training.
5. Like h.e.a.r.t. village on Facebook.

Serving on the mission field is challenging; h.e.a.r.t. helps students gain a greater insight into what that might look like, preparing them in a way the classroom experience can't.  

Thank you for sharing h.e.a.r.t.'s story.  And if you live close enough to attend the Garden Celebration?  Hug my babygirl for me...this mama is missin' her somethin' fierce!

 

Time, tradition, truth and honor

i.

There’s something mesmerizing about the way a creek flows…constant, relentless unapologetic, purposeful; a one-directional wanderer, an effortless meander, masterful sculptress slowly chiseling banks and boulders.  Imperceptible erosion or violent torrent, eventually she’ll carve them into something new, change their appearance, soften edges, alter course.

Time is a river.

Time is constant, relentless, unapologetic, one directional; sculpting me into something new, changing my appearance, softening my edges, altering my course.

I’m astonished when I think about natural laws; the way different things are so similar.  My DNA has remained constant my entire life, and yet I’m hardly the same person I was when I was born.

Heck, I’m not the same person I was last week.

 

ii.

My daughter was three when my mother-in-law asked me if I was interested in hosting a Mother-Daughter Valentine Tea Party.  She didn’t envision a one-time affair but an annual event, culminating in a “Sweet 16 Party,” the one where we’d finally invite boys.

Sarah grew up in another time, where you were something if you had a television, and then only black and white.  Families had a single phone–black, corded and rotary dial. When you wanted water your only option was tap, and if you liked it cold you’d crack ice from metal trays.

She met Tommy at The Sweet Shop when she was 14 years old and it was first-sight love for both. They were innocents in the best of ways, and though he sowed an oat or two they made good choices and hard decisions and nearly 60 years later they’re still together.

When they look at each other you can still see their love…my God, you can almost feel steam rising.  Once he had the audacity to look at her with hungry eyes and tell her You look luscious right in front of me.

Peering through circa 1950s rose-colored glasses my mother-in-law imagined her granddaughter’s Sweet 16 party in 50 shades of pink.

* * * * * * * *

WHERE in THE world am I going with this one?  Please click to continue reading at Deeper Family. It takes a while, but I think I pull it all together, to show how long it can take to figure something out....

Go ahead. Make my day.

It arrived in my mailbox without fanfare, and even if it was written in a foreign language, upside-down and reversed, I would have known my sister's handwriting.  

That's why I love handwritten anything.  Isn't handwriting an extension of our thumbprint?  As unique and distinguishable as our personalities, our faces, our DNA?  We know our people by the way they write and I love that.  

I love it.

Is it odd that I have this great affection for the way my people write?  That I recognize them by the way they cross T's and dot I's and refuse to swirl a cursive Q the way we were taught in grade school?  

What a peculiar quirk...to c a r e about and delight in my family and friend's handwriting.  

I think it must've been born the year Mama died.  She was the one who always signed my report cards to let my teacher know she knew how I was doing, and the last time she did was second quarter of third grade.  After that, Daddy took over.  I don't have anything else handwritten by my mother, so my 1st-3rd grade report cards are treasures. 

I know she held them in her hands, studied my good marks, considered where I needed some help, and signed them proud of me.  Maybe it's a stretch, but I see those report cards as a baton she's passed off to me--our fingers almost touch, only separated by time.  I'm able to hold what she beheld.

And that hidden letter I found from my father.  Every time I read it, I can see him, hear him, almost feel him.  His handwriting speaks and its sweet embrace and I can't help but hold onto it for a little while longer than it takes to read.

Gosh, all those notes passed in class among friends--I KNOW my friends' handwriting after decades have gone by!  Kimberly, Mandy, Lee, Suzanne, Cassie--it's a mental slide show as I think each name, and once I start thinkin' two dozen more click by in a snap--and I'd list them all but that would make for reading as tedieous as Old Testament geneologies.  I'll spare you because this isn't even what I planned to write about when I started!  

(Except it makes me sad for kids today because cell phones have likely eliminated this practice--remember the way we'd fold notes so they were self-sealing???)

Good gracious, sometimes my heart hijacks my brain and kidnaps my fingers for its own purposes.

What I meant to write about was receiving that note from my sister.  

It was short, maybe three lines, and folded into thirds to fit the 3"x5" envelope was the Mutts comic strip pictured above.  

It had made her think of me when she saw it.

So she took three minutes to cut it out and jot a note to tell me.  

Not a text.

Not an email.

Not a Facebook status or tweet.

Not a blog post (oh, the irony...).

Just a handwritten note, from her hands to mine, a tangible expression of thought.  

It cost her three minutes of time and the price of a stamp, but the value is immeasurable.  The gesture made my day.

Today, I shall pay it forward.  Today, I will mail a few snails.

A little thing that means so much.

Won't you join me?

 

Hardly the "help"...

 

When I was a little girl, I didn't know any better; I asked her if her blood was brown.

Looking back, it wasn't a fair question - my blood wasn't white for heaven's sakes.  It wasn't that I judged her skin color, either; I simply noticed it was different.  I got in trouble for asking, but not from Callie.  She understood and appreciated my curious heart and just chuckled the way she did, with every bit of herself.

Callie worked for my grandmother as housekeeper and cook from before my childhood memories began.  Her husband, Kephus, was gardener and handyman, but he died when I was four and I don't remember him, except for that one picture...black and old and tattered, the man and the ancient image.

Callie was one of the most consistent fixtures in my life.  During my mother's wicked five-year battle with cancer, we stayed with my grandmother a lot; Callie was always there.  In a cruel succession of events, my grandmother died the year after my mother, and rather than relieve Callie of her duties, my father continued to employ her.  When my brother got married, he hired her, too. She mostly sat in the kitchen or watched her stories by then, but they were offering her backpay for years of service.

All the money in the world couldn't compensate her for what she gave us.

What Callie lacked in cleaning finess she more than made up for in the kitchen.  Though I have her recipes for Chewies and tea cakes, I've never been able to duplicate them; her feathered rice, though, is one of my children's favorites.  And then there were those "Callie Biscuits"...you'd have to grow up on them to fully appreciate:  punched the size of a 50-cent piece, they were hard and dry but oh-my-lanta, we begged for more.

Once she tried to teach me how to cut up a whole chicken.

Graceful hands cut through bone and sinew like counter-soft butter and it was then I realized I was witnessing something special:  she was an artist, creating.

Later when I would attempt a try, I'd end up throwing the damn mutilated bird in a pot of boiling water, and settle for a second-rate casserole instead of Callie's fried chicken.

It was never about the fried chicken, though.  I was trying to conjure home.

  Callie taught me beyond the kitchen.  She never spoke ill of another person.  She'd look to the bright side if I voiced complaint.  She was loyal to her friends and family, doing for them whatever she could with the little she had.  She went to church every Sunday and believed that God was good and knew what He was doing.

Her life was an offering, a liberal outpouring of kindness to others.

Years later when I began reading The Shack, it's not surprising I saw Young's Aunt Jemima God with Callie's face.

But soon enough I would learn something that would break my heart and make me wish I had the power to reverse time and right at least one injustice.  

* * * * * * * * *

Please click to continue reading Hardly the help... at Deeper Story ~ Family today. It's tribute and memoir and a story about Family born out of love and affection.   

Death and Redemption of a Stepford Mother

A very long time ago, and yet just a blink of the eye, I was the Model Christian Mother.

A poster child, if you will, for what you’re supposed to look like if you’re doing all the “right” things as a Christian mom.

My car’s radio was tuned only to Christian music.

Most of the children’s books on our shelves were purchased from Christian retailers.

We memorized scripture together and learned Children’s Catechism.

We prayed out loud at bedtime and most days in between.

Bible verses were scrawled across art and craft projects.

I was active in Children’s Ministry and even worked at my church for almost ten years in service to babies and littles.

We modeled hospitality in our home and supported and served the local poor.

I was intentional and determined and eager in leading my babies to Christ, and by God if I had anything to do with it, they would follow the path to salvation.

I had more answers than questions.

But, then, we moved out of state, joined a different denomination, and, perhaps, stressed out or burned out or worn out,

I

just

stopped.

We faithfully continued church attendance–Sunday school and corporate worship–but outside of nursery duty I never served in children’s ministry again.

My children were in first, third and fifth grade when we moved and none of them remember when I was the Model Christian Mother.

* * * * * *

I have two sons in high school now and a daughter in college.

They know I’ve struggled as a believer for years.  In part, I can point a finger to the church we joined nine years ago; their leadership floundered during the four years we were without a pastor.  Good men made poor decisions (by their own confession) and it left me trying to submit to an authority I neither respected nor agreed with.  People were hurt.  I was hurt.  We were loyal and tried to make it work, but this among a host of other things, led to spiritual anemia…a long, fitful, complicated, spiritual slumber.

Here’s the thing about the temptation to assign blame:  when I point an accusing finger elsewhere, there are always three damning me.

Those fingers are satan’s delight.

* * * * * * * 

Please keep reading at Death and Redemption of a Stepford Mother at Deeper Family today; this one is a tale of redemption and influence, the back story of which is told in my incourage post today.

The unexpected, very welcome, Thanksgiving surprise

One of my favorite things is an extraordinary, everyday miracle.

I'm not speaking of Miracles of Biblical Proportion; rather the simple things that mean little to anyone else and the world to you, and that most people would scoff at and roll their eyes for my diminishing the word "miracle" to something so... w e l l ...common.  

Perfect timing is an example.  Sometimes perfect timing is just what you need to get over a hump or to increase your faith or to be encouraged.  Perfect timing can be disguised as a song on the radio or a timely newspaper article or in words of wisdom from a friend.  

Today is my sister's birthday; every so often it happens to fall smack dab on Thanksgiving day.  

This year, we're 5,000 miles from home making it impossible to get together with our extended family.  I'm especially thankful my children are able to be with us; and an added special bonus is having my first cousin living only a few hours away, enabling her to make this a family celebration after all.

So, this morning I woke up to a lengthy kitchen to-do list and a heart full of gratitude for the blessings that filed through my mind.  At the top of my list is my sister, it being her birthday and all; she's a 15-year cancer survivor.  Since our mom died at 38 from breast cancer, we absolutely welcome each birthday we're given, realizing we've both long-surpassed her lifespan.

Lora is my best friend and I cannot imagine life without her.

I absent-mindedly flipped over my (in)courage Day Brightener and before I read the quote for today, I noticed it was one of mine.  ON MY SISSY'S BIRTHDAY!  Every year when I get to November 22, it'll be like we're already celebrating together!! Which probably doesn't make a whole lot of sense to you, because this is my common, everyday miracle, but it's the kind of thing that sends my whole day spinning happy.

Which is one of my favorite things about myself--the ability to see and celebrate the extras in ordinaries.

Then, when I read today's quote, I just had to share it with you:  

"Today speak life, love, affirmation, truth or forgiveness

into the life of another,

something they're desperate to hear."

 

Sometimes it's what we don't say that often hurts the most; sometimes we hold back when we know there's something that needs saying, encouragement that will make a difference in the life of someone we love.

Don't let that be the case today.  You're likely going to spend time with family or friends and I hope you'll speak life into them.  

And then this little blog post can be an unexpected, very welcome Thanksgiving surprise for you, too.

YOUR TURN:  Are you a celebrator of Everyday, Common Miracles?  Would you share your stories with me?  And would you accept my challenge to speak life, love affirmation, truth or forgiveness to someone who needs a touch of your grace?  That will be their unexpected, very welcome Thanksgiving surprise.  

Happiest of Thanksgiving holidays to you, from me with l ♥ v e. 

Remember DaySpring's Super Sale through Monday -

30% off site-wide with code: 30SUPER
 Perfect time to get an (in)courage Perpetual Calendar

(Photo credit:  istockphoto.  Affilliate links used.)

How to pray for the college-age kids in your life

{If you're popping over today from Simple Mom, WELCOME!  Would you consider taking a moment to subscribe to my blog by email and/or share this post with others who might be interested?  It only takes a few seconds and in coming months I have some exciting new things to share :).}

1.  Pray for your child’s relationships with their roommates and hall-mates.

One of the blessings of living in a residential college setting is the opportunity to learn in community. This means working through your academic learning with others but also means learning by being in a community. It can be hard when sinners live together in close proximity and share the stresses of school and adjusting to new environments, but the fruit of learning how to work through hard things and sharing life with other believers is a beautiful thing worth wrestling through the hardships (Psalm 133). These lessons and friendships can not only make college a good experience but serve students well down the road in life. Please pray for the ups and downs of these relationships and that growth and bonds of brotherhood and sisterhood will result.

2.  Pray for your child’s relationships with members of the opposite sex.

College is a combination of wonderful excitement and mass confusion in this area. Students are coming from all manner of different backgrounds and experiences and the reality is that many students will find a spouse on this campus and many students will not. In both situations there are joys and frustrations. Please pray that God will use this opportunity to grow your child in their understanding of being a brother or sister to members of the opposite sex and to give direction, purity, freedom from fear and anxiety, peace, encouragement, and grace to these interactions.

3.  Pray for your child’s friends.

This could also encompass the two above categories but Proverbs and other scriptures speak often of the importance of our companions. Pray for wisdom for your child in who they choose to spend time with. That they would make friends who encourage them in their faith and that they would be friends who do that for others.

4.  Pray for their involvement on campus.

It is really important for students to be involved in campus life either on their hall, through a club, a service group, or some other avenue of connecting with and getting to know others. Pray for discernment for your child as they seek to make these decisions and balance various things going on in their lives. Pray they would be willing to let some opportunities pass, but be bold to take advantage of others.

5.  Pray for mentors for your child.

In addition to friends and other students, pray for the leaders on your student's hall (RAs, etc.).  They are upperclassmen students who desire to serve your child and walk alongside them. If your child is in one of these positions, pray for them and their work as these provide excellent opportunities for God to work in and through them. Pray for faculty and staff who interact with your students, and for pastors and other members in the local church where your child attends.  Pray that one or two of these people would be equipped by God to connect with your child and speak the truth of Christ into their life regularly.

 

6.  Pray for your child’s church involvement.

If they happen to attend a Christian college, it can be easy for students to think they get what they need in Bible classes, chapel, and hall prayer times. Sleep can feel very urgent on a Sunday morning, so please pray that your child will connect with a local congregation. It can be scary and intimidating at times, but is a great means of grace in their lives.

 7.  Pray that God’s spirit makes your child’s heart and mind alive to the Scriptures and the gospel.

Being surrounded by people who profess the same thing you do can easily lead to assuming the gospel of Christ in our lives and taking the scriptures for granted. Pray that in chapel, class, church, and personal devotions, the Holy Spirit will awaken your child’s heart and mind to the truths of God’s written word and the work of Jesus, the Living Word.

8.  Pray that their identity would be found more and more in Christ.

Students deal with issues such as physical appearance, religious reputation, academic or athletic prowess, good relationships, bad relationships, future goals, past achievements, etc. All of these and countless others are calling to students (and to all of us really), and asking your sons and daughters to place their trust and hope of joy and fulfillment in them. Pray that your child will hear the voice of Christ calling loudly above all the others, and that they will grow in the joy that Paul knew in Philippians 3 of being united with Christ and found in him.

9.  Pray that your child would grow in Christ-likeness.

Pray that as they grow in their understanding of what Christ has done for them, they will grow in his likeness, being quick to forgive and slow to anger, considering the interest of others before themselves, and looking for opportunities to serve others and show them the love of Christ.

10.  Pray that your child would learn from his or her mistakes.

Part of growing and learning is making mistakes along the way. Pray that these times of frustration, disappointment, and even embarrassment would help them to grow in their understanding of the grace of Christ, mature as the young men and women they are, and would guard them from larger frustration, disappointments, and embarrassments in the future.

 

And one to grow on ~

Pray that they would know God more.

Following Paul's prayer for the Colossians--

“May you be filled with the knowledge of his will in all spiritual wisdom and understanding, so as to walk in a manner worthy of the Lord, fully pleasing to him, bearing fruit in every good work and increasing in the knowledge of God.” ~ Colossians 1:9b-10.

: : : : : : : : : 

Excerpted, with permission, from Kevin McAlvey, one of the Resident Directors at Covenant College, in their recent newsletter to parents. Substantive and touching on some many aspects of student life, I asked him if I could share it with my readers.  I hope you, in turn, share this with friends and family of yours who have college age children.  

Your turn:  This is by no means an exhaustive list; if you have suggestions to add, please leave them in comments. 

If you're inclined, will you also share this post on Pinterest, Facebook, Twitter, StumbleUpon--wherever you're social networky (and thanks!).

Memory, miracle and falling with style

"I wish the world could see what I see.  
Sometimes you have to go up really high 
to understand how small you are...I'm coming home now." 
~ Felix Baumgartner, his last words before jumping from the edge of space

Felix Baumgartner is a madman.  Gulping buckets of adrenaline, he wriggled free from techno coccoon to unfurl limb and life, and rocket his way into history's tome. 

Wearing a specially designed pressurized suit, Felix Baumgartner flew 24 miles from the edge of space to the plains of Roswell, New Mexico.  Fitting, don't you think?  Isn't that where aliens end up?

His body accelerated to 373/mps or 1,342.8/kph or, the language I speak, 833.9 mph.  That's Mach 1.24 telling us the thing we most wanted to know:  he broke through the speed of sound, the first man to do so outside of an aircraft.  

One small step....

 

And he lived.  But wasn't he living just in the trying?  

I think he might argue that both ways, but he'd prefer the former.

"The world needs a hero and today they got one," said his medical director, Dr. Jonathan Clark.  Brave and daring, Felix risked his life to pursue a personal dream while collecting data that would benefit others.  Self-serving in one sense, sacrificial in another.  

I owe him a thank you.  He gave me and my son an "I remember when..." moment, and this time, it was a good one.  

* 

*

*

We were crowded in Aunt Paula's den, the color of mustard and avacados and delicious apples, golden, and why do I think of food remembering her living room?  I was only six.

I was fidgeting behind Uncle John's easy chair, peeking out from time to time when they landed.  "One small step for a man, one giant leap for mankind," declared Neil Armstrong...and it was.  

Before the age of Star Wars and special effects and computerized animation and revisionist photoshopping, there was room for wonder.

Astonishment.

Reverential awe.

It would never have occurred to me then, that this moment would be sealed in memory's vault; I wouldn't know this would remain my only recollection of Uncle John, who left the family soon after; or that I'd always associate kiwi and lychee with my aunt, who introduced me to these exotic fruits during that visit.

Peculiar, these details, attached to man landing on the moon. Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin have no idea the memories they fostered among their brothers and sisters.

*

*

*

I will remember it was just the two of us, but I likely won't remember why.  I'll remember it was "that year we lived in Germany" but will I recall 2012?  I'll see my son reluctantly tearing himself away from the insignificant football game he was watching, to witness this man's unforgettable step of faith. Will we remember how we marveled at the clarity of the picture?  That technology could bring us this close to Felix Baumgartner?  That we could see him respond to Mission Control and his mentor, Joe Kittinger's, simple commands?  That we could hear him breathe?!

Will I remember Stephen was wearing the message "Live Simply"?  A little thing I hope he wears on the inside.

Talking to my husband later, he thought my comparison to Apollo 11 a stretch.  Maybe so but I'm still inclined to see how all these men risked their lives for something much bigger than themselves, how passion and dreams drove their actions and cast aside fear, and how, upon reaching their goals, their self awareness changed.  

"When I was standing there on top of the world you become so humble you do not think about breaking records anymore, you do not think about gaining scientific data, the only thing that you want is, you want to come back alive because you do not want to die in front of your parents, your girlfriend and all these people watching you.  This became the most important thing to me when I was standing out there." (Baumgartner at the post-jump press conference.)

Indeed...sometimes when you're really high up, you understand how just small you are.  

If you use this graphic, would you mind linking back to my original post? Thanks!!

If you missed this spectacular event, scroll the pictures below, or better yet, the highlights are worth 90 seconds of your time--

 

 

He makes it look so easy....

Shadows reveal the sunshine

They all look relieved and his mother, elated! Understandable.

Mission Control celebrates landing.

I couldn't help but wonder if in THIS moment he was thanking God.

 

 

The delight, pride and joy of Joe Kittinger, mentor; Felix Baumgarnter, successful daredevil and protege

The Stratos team, thankful and humbled by groundbreaking success.

From Felix's blog--

(Edited by me, for those of you with delicate sensibilites and with apologies to Felix.)

VERY interesting related links:

The sponsor, Red Bull, has a wonderful site that asks and answers more questions than you can imagine:  RedBullStratos.com

They also have a blog worth checking out.