Fruit - from Sarah Bessay

I read this on FB today and I thought I'd re-post.  Regardless of where I stand on vaccines, politics, or any other non-critical issue, the focus SHOULD be on Jesus.  He's the creator and perfector of ALL, not just what I want.  I'm praying for perpetual peace in MY life and in yours:

"More and more these days, when people ask me what I think about this or that issue or person or whatever - usually something that is a hot button issue or a controversial or new thing - I find myself saying one phrase over and over: "look to the fruit."

It's a phrase that Jesus said in the book of Matthew while warning us to watch for those who would lead us astray, who would lead us from the path of knowing him. It's in Matthew 7 which is one of my favourite passages of Jesus' teaching (okay so I always say that about all of them but I mean it every time!). Jesus is teaching us about how to live our lives, how to be and how to do - it's clear and good and beautiful. Right at the end of the sermon, the entire crowd bursts into applause because they had never heard teaching like this and they knew he was the rare teacher who not only taught it but LIVED it. (Oh, I love our Jesus!)

So he says there in the middle of that sermon that if you want to know about the health of the tree, look at the fruit. A diseased tree won't bear healthy fruit, no matter how good it looks to the outside eyes. And a healthy tree will bear healthy fruit.

I've never forgotten that story. He follows up that tree analogy with that famous teaching about the builder who built a house on the sand - the house looked fine but when the rain and the winds came, the house was blown down because there was no foundation. It's a similar idea. Either we know Jesus or we don't, either Jesus is the cornerstone of our lives or he isn't - or as he says there, "Many will say "Master!" and I will say "I never knew you." And we often only know this - even about our own selves - by the fruit that is borne or the storm that is endured.

There are a lot of people with opinions - self-appointed leaders - these days. I'm one of them, I know that. So I apply this same question to my own self, my own life, my own work - what's the fruit??

If we want to know about the spiritual health of a person or a ministry or a church or a website, look at the fruit they are bearing - most particularly, is it the fruit of the Spirit love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control? No matter how lovely the tree, if the fruit is poisonous, then be aware.

And here's something else, I'll say: if the people who are *partaking* of that fruit are becoming poisonous, be aware.

Sometimes the tree looks healthy, and the fruit looks healthy, but everyone who eats of it comes away sick in their soul - filled with pride or envy or judgement, lust or mockery, bitterness or unrighteous anger, easy promises or shortcuts, smugness or division or hatred - all stirring up the very worst parts of ourselves, even baptizing sinful attitudes or behaviours with sacred language. The tree LOOKS healthy, the fruit LOOKS healthy, but we are dying by consuming it and rotting from the inside out.

And I'll add this: sometimes the trees and the fruit are new to me. I'm from western Canada - I know apple trees and pear trees. Imagine my dazzled surprise to encounter a real banana tree once - I had a banana from that tree and that was the first time in my life I really TASTED a banana. It was completely different than the supermarket bananas of my northern life - this was amazing! Unfamiliar fruit from new trees can bring the best surprises of goodness, too.

Good fruit isn't only in my local orchard, after all - why would I be surprised by that?

I've thought of that a lot in these past few days: look at the fruit of the tree AND look at the health of those who are eating of that tree. Is there flourishing? is there Christlikeness? is there joy? is there peace? Is there love? patience? kindness? goodness? faithfulness? gentleness? self-control? Even if it looks new or unfamiliar, look at the fruit, look at the people who are standing in the shade of that tree, would you know them by their love?

As the years go by, are we becoming more like Jesus, walking with Jesus, abiding with Jesus ... or not? That is the test of our fruit. It's a question worth asking when we consider who we are following, who is influencing us, who is shaping our conversations, who is leading us, who is feeding us - what's the fruit? how are the people who eat that fruit? and do they look like a disciple of Jesus?

I'm foolish enough to believe that Jesus meant it when he said they - the world - would know us by our love. Our LOVE. As Paul said, may our roots go down deep into the soil of his marvelous love. We may very well be surprised by who is bearing the fruit against which there is no law, by whose leaves are for the flourishing of the nations.

Near the end of that chapter in Matthew, Jesus says, 'These words I speak to you are not incidental additions to your life, homeowner improvements to your standard of living. They are foundational words, words to build a life on.'" - More and more these days, when people ask me what I think about this or that issue or person or whatever - usually something that is a hot button issue or a controversial or new thing - I find myself saying one phrase over and over: "look to the fruit."

- Sarah Bessay

The problem with and solution for America in 23 easy steps

American is broken. It takes $0.86 to make, but then...Ok.... Here's the breakdown:

Ground Zero: Person in the great US can't afford insurance. They are "Uninsured person".


1. Uninsured person has an ingrown toenail.

2. Uninsured person calls 911 to take them to the emergency room at 2 am because of 10/10 pain from ingrown toenail that has been bothering them for three months, but they finally ended their Netflix binge, and now what are they supposed to do to entertain themselves, and because of 10/10 pain, they can't possibly drive to the ER themselves, right?

3. Uninsured person arrives at ER for three month old ingrown toenail and asks ER nurse for a sandwich, a warm blanket, a place to charge their cell phone, and pain medication for the 10/10 pain for which they had to take the ambulance.

3a. Because of EMTALA laws, the ER is required by law to ensure the patient is stable.

4. ER physician, who deals with a frivolously litigious clients on a regular basis and has to pay extra for malpractice INSURANCE, has to order a CBC, CMP, lactic acid, do an EKG, and orders a CT scan to make sure there's no underlying osteomyelitis.

5. Uninsured person actually only has an ingrown toe nail, eats the sandwich, complains they didn't get a warm blanket (even though they did), and asks the hospital for a taxi voucher to get home, because they can't take an ambulance back.

6. Uninsured person is charged $3,000 for the lab work, the needle stick, the CT, the blanket, the sandwich, the nurses time, the doctors time, the ambulance drivers time, the room, the radiologists time, the rad techs time...etc.  

7. Uninsured person can't pay the $3,000 and opts to allow the charge to go on their credit report because, really, they don't care that much.

8. The hospital absorbs the cost of aforementioned items.

9. The hospital, in order to stay open, has to increase costs of items like a bag of saline, (because that's not the only uninsured person they treated today, someone earlier was having a heart attack but was uninsured and they ended up in the CVICU with quadruple bypass racking up $60,000 in non-recoupable hospital expenses).

10. Insurance companies freak out that a $0.86 bag of saline is now costing them $3.00.

11. Insurance companies increase the cost of premiums to offset the extra $2.14 per bag of saline (average 3,000 bags of saline a day for a small hospital...that's a difference of $6420 A DAY JUST FOR SALINE...btw I pulled these numbers out of my rectum).

12. Insured people freak out that their premiums have increased to cover a yearly insurance hike of $2,343,300 for saline.

13. Insured people complain about the cost of insurance.

14. Que the federal government. They start asking "Why are all these uninsured people walking around?" The federal government spends a TON of money making sure everyone is insured.

15. Now the federal government is out a bunch of money, making sure everyone is insured. The federal government has to recoup THAT money, because God knows, Congress can't deal with the budget they've GOT, can you imagine if we CUT FUNDS!?!?!

16. The federal government has to balance the budget, so we stop funding public colleges.  

17. To go go medical school, you have to attend college. But the federal government has cut funding to medical schools across the country, making the programs that Are open more and more competitive and expensive.

18. Hopeful almost doctor (who is a poor college student and, ironically enough, probably uninsured), takes out a MOUNTAIN of student loan debt to pay for the private college they got into because the public schools are too full to accommodate their education.

19. Almost doctor graduates, starts working in an ER, sees an uninsured patient with an ingrown toenail, doesn't get paid by the patient (they're uninsured), doesn't get paid by the hospital (the hospital is reimbursed by the federal government based 30% on patient satisfaction and the uninsured toenail person didn't get a warm blanket, and are therefor dissatisfied), and still has a mountain of student loan debt to pay.

21.  ER doctor is swimming in debt, feels depressed.  ER doctor gets a prescription for prozac and is hugely overcharged by the pharmacy because his insurance company doesn't cover pre-existing conditions, which they determine his depression is.  He pays for the prozac, pays his health insurance, and pays his malpractice insurance to show up again tonight in the ER to treat a three month old ingrown toenail.

22.  Jesus comes back, no one needs insurance, everyone is happy.  Except Satan.  Who is burning in Hell.

23.  The moral of the story is, Jesus lives, trust Him, and do what he says.  #goandmake

I'm ranting a little bit....

My marriage isn't perfect.  I've never claimed it was.  We are going through a particularly hard season right now, and I'm praying it's not a season like a Texas summer (5/6th of the year long and dryer than morning snot).  I realize that the curse of man makes my desire for my husband but he will rule over me.  People keep pointing me to Ephesians 5.  Ok.  I've read it.  I've prayed over it.  I've STUDIED it.  Here's the thing....

1. Submission is mutual: Ephesians 5:21 says we should submit to each other in the fear of God. This is a dual command, and should be practiced among Christians regardless of marriage relationship.

2. Wifely Submission is Commanded: Eph. 5:22-23 says women should submit to their husbands AS they submit to the Lord. If a woman is not submissive to her husband, probably she needs to be held accountable by other women or married couples to her submission to the Lord. If we (as women) believe we are "entitled to be obeyed", we probably aren't submitting to the Lord as He has commanded. Find yourself an accountability partner and GET IN PRAYER. GET IN THE WORD. Get with JESUS.

3. Feelings do matter, but they CAN'T rule: I think (and you know my struggles personally) that many women FEEL (and that can be a dangerous word) loved when their husbands say he will do X and then does, or when shes asked him to do x and then he does. It isn't so much about being "obeyed", its about feeling loved. Ephesians 5 goes on to tell husbands to love their wives as Christ loves the church. This is an agape love. This is sacrificial love. Its sacrificing time, energy, money...but mostly SELF. Jesus gave HIMSELF, and trust me, he wasn't comfortable. If you aren't comfortable loving your wife the way she needs to be love, CHECK YOURSELF. Women, if you husband is bending over backwards to meet your needs, NOTICE IT. Maybe you need to decrease so your marriage can increase (John 3:30)?

4. Men aren't Large and In Charge: Men (and this is a VERY BIG GENERALIZATION) in the Christian Church, and in general, have stopped being Christian leaders in their home. God gives a hierarchy which has been sorely upset in our culture (1st Cor 11:3). God intends man to submit to the God Head, then the wife to submit to the husband and God, then children and employees to follow. When there is no spiritual leader in the home because the husband does not submit himself to the God Head, there is an incorrect hierarchy.

5. We're not Nagging. For real: I'm really tired of men saying women nag. Read Proverbs. Unless you're ready to move to the attic, or you'd rather undergo Chinese Water Torture than listen to your wife, she's probably not "nagging". There is an underlying idea that women who ask their husband to do something more than once, or in a certain way, or has EXPECTATIONS for her husband is a nag. God calls us to be ACCOUNTABLE to each other in marriage. Iron on Iron as my husband should be my best friend. When I ask something of my husband, I'm not asking him to OBEY, I'm asking him to be accountable as my spiritual leader, spiritual partner, equal yolk, and sharpening tool. If you think I'm nagging, CHECK YOURSELF as a spiritual leader, then TALK WITH ME about our expectations in our marriage.

6. It's help MEET, not help MATE. Learn your Hebrew. : Women need to give up this "feminism" crap. I'm not created to be the same as a man. If I were created the same, there would be no purpose FOR man, and THAT is NOT what God intended. Also, Chruch, we're not a helpMATE, helper, companion, we're a help MEET. Help, in this sense is an Ezer. It's used 21 times in the KJV, and generally describes God as a savior to His people in war. Kenegdo is only used ONCE. One time. In the Bible. And it is to describe Eve/woman/wife. We are special. Unique. NOT men. Stop trying to be them and embrace who God made YOU to be.

7. Last one, I promise...WOMEN, GET OVER IT : So, I'm reading about women in the Bible, and I'm reading about women's roles and attitudes, and what not, and I come across Proverbs 31. I've read it before, I've quoted it before. Read it real quick. It'll take 5 minutes. Now, please note who helps her through the field buying and oil lamp using and clothing of her household.....wait for it.....NO ONE. She just does it. it's her job. Her husband, if you notice, is NOT WITH HER. Your job....MY JOB....is to submit to my husband REGARDLESS of if I feel loved, if my husband performs as the spiritual head, or if I want to.

The Holy Ghost

We are a Christ following family.  We're not perfect, but we follow a Jesus who is.  We, however, speak a lot of "Christian-ese".  This sometimes kicks me in the butt.

I had driven out to my best friends house.  It was late on a Friday, maybe 9:30.  Siri (6) had fallen asleep in the car.  Gannon (10) went inside to clean his friends room and play video games.  Annika, however, wanted her mom.  I did not want to hold Annika.  I wanted to sit, quietly, and talk with my friend about life.  Annika would have none of it.  She is a threenager if there has ever been one.  She is strong willed, smart, and sassy.  This works both for and against me.  Most of the time, she can be reasoned with.  She makes smart choices most of the time, but sometimes (and ONLY sometimes) she out-logics me.
My best friend lives out in the country.  On a farm.  With animals.  They make funny sounds sometimes.  So she and I were sitting outside, and Annika was in my lap.  I was desperately trying to get her to go inside to play a game, go to the potty, get a drink....SOMETHING to give me a moments rest.  I asked her why she didn't want to go inside.  "It's dark.  I'm scared."  I "Christian mom-ed her.  "Sweetie, it's ok.  Jesus is with you.  You're safe."  The house is MAYBE 200 feet from where we were sitting.  There were lights on.  She was being obstinate.

Suddenly, she took a sharp breath in, jumped a little, and clutched her chest.

"Annika!  Are you ok?  What's the matter?"

She did it again.

"Annika, WHAT is going on?"

"Jesus keeps scarring me!"

My friend and I looked at each other.  We tried not to laugh.

My friend asked "Annika, where is Jesus?"

"In my HEART!" came the retort with a sideways look that clearly meant "DUH!"

"But why is he scarry?"

In the most precious way possible, Annika tilted her head to the side, her curls framing her sweet little face. She put both of her hands out to emphasize her explanation...

"Well.  SOMETIMES, Jesus puts a sheet over him.  That's because He's being the Holy Ghost.
Then He scares me!"

*repeat action of sharp breath, hand over heart, little jump*

Really Jesus...

Imagine

Some kids have imaginary friends.  I did.  Mine was named "Janie".  Janie and I had all sorts of fun together.  I don't remember Janie, but mom and dad are happy to remind me of her.  Gannon and Siri both had short lived imaginary friends.  I could probably look back and tell you about them, but this story is about Annika.
Annika is 3, and she has QUITE the imagination.  But Annika doesn't have an imaginary friend.  Annika has Markship.

Driving down the road a few weeks ago, we were discussing where to eat.  We don't eat out often, but when we do, the kids have a say.  Siri wanted Chick-Fil-A, and Gannon wanted Whataburger (life in the world of fast food is pretty much over when we leave Texas).  Of course they couldn't agree.  They both looked to Annika for a decision, a decisive vote.  They each plead their case: "Chick-Fil-A has a PLAYGROUND!  Don't you want to go inside and PLAY!?!?!?"  "Whataburger has COOKIES with the kids meals!  YOU LOVE COOKIES!!!!"  Annika sat stoic, not blinking, not looking at either sibling. She would not be swayed.  She knew what she wanted.  Calmly and quietly, she said, "I want to go to Markship."
Markship.  So, at three, sometimes places we go and things we see and do have names that aren't entirely accurate.  I racked my brain trying to figure out what Markship was.
"Do you mean McDonalds, Annika?"  "No, Mommy, Markship!"  "Annika, do you mean the place we ate all the lobster in Maine?"  "NO, Mommy!  MARKSHIP!"
At a loss, I did what any desperate parent would do.  I asked for clarification.
"What's Markship, Annika?"
"Mommy.  Markship is the restaurant place with the macaroni and cheese.  With bathrooms that are always open if you need to go potty.  It has pink chairs and pink tables and the food is all soooooo yummy!"

She makes this face while she's telling me about the wonders of Markship.  

"Annika, is Markship real?"  "No, mommy, but IMAGINE if it WAS!!!"

Since that day, we've learned much more about Markship.  It also serves chicken and fries and diet sprite (I don't think she's ever HAD diet sprite), has a HUGE playground with water, there are wooden ships on the floor, and the floor is made of wood.  Any time we talk about a place to eat, or what to eat, Marship is recommended.  Sometimes, Gannon and Siri ask if we can try Markship.  Gannon now has a business model to open a restaurant called Markship.  

If you drive past my house this summer, and there are three beautiful kids sitting at a lemonade stand, colored pink of course, be sure to glance at the name.  You're probably visiting the first Markship in the USA.  Tip well.

That time I had an abortion.

WARNING-GRAPHIC CONTENT-READER DISCRETION ADVISED

NO, SERIOUSLY, THIS HAS SOME PRETTY RAW PARTS.  

DON'T LET YOUR KIDS READ THIS.

5 years ago, I had an abortion.  Gordon and I had Alia, Gannon, and Siri.  We were pregnant with our fourth and thrilled that God was growing our family.  We had gone to Illinois to see my parents for Christmas, and drove 17 hours home.

December 28th:  I had scheduled my 20 week ultrasound for the day after we got back to fit in with travel and school (I was ready to start my final semester of RN school).  I took the three kids to the doctors with me.  Alia and Gannon were reading, and wanted to stay in the car.  Alia was 14, Gannon was 4, so that was OK with me.  I took Siri in with me for a quick heart beat check and to schedule our gender ultrasound.  The doctor had a hard time finding the heart beat.  She assured me that baby was probably in a bad position, and she'd take me for a quick ultrasound to make sure baby was ok.  We went to the ultrasound room.  I held Siri and prayed.  

"Well, that's not what I was expecting to see at all.  I'll be right back."  She put down the wand and left the room.  My doctor and another physician came into the dimly lit room.  I was still holding 18 month old Siri.  The wand slid from one side of my belly to the other, with both doctors shaking their heads.  I heard "Did you check that angle?.....Do you see anything there?...."  The practitioner I didn't know started to leave.  He touched my sock clad foot and said "I'm so sorry."  Sorry about what?  I knew.  No one had said it yet.
"Well, it looks like baby died, and he's been dead for a while, he has what we call 'lemon head'."  I learned later this is called Spalding's Sign. "Go ahead and take a moment.  You can leave in a few minutes.  My surgery scheduler will call you tomorrow so we can schedule a D&E."  She left the room.  

My heart was in my throat.  I couldn't even call Gordon.  I couldn't call Gordon and tell him our baby was dead.  I picked Siri up and walked to the car.  I lost it.  I wept.  I didn't say a word to Alia or Gannon.  I started driving, but I wasn't really sure where I was going.  I called.  He was on a job site.  Normally that means hours of not being able to reach him.  He didn't answer.  I texted (yes, while I was driving) 911.  He called.  I couldn't even think of words.  I was still crying.  "The baby died.  I don't know what to do."  I don't remember much of the rest of that day.  I called some friends, I called some family, Gordon came home.  The rest of the next few days were a blur.  

December 29th: The next day, the surgery scheduler called late in the day.  "We can get you in January 19th."  I was going to have to stay pregnant with my dead baby boy for another 3 weeks.  I panicked.  I told Gordon I would use a coat hanger before that.  I wouldn't, COULDN'T stay pregnant with my dead son for three weeks.  I wasn't sure I could make it for three DAYS.  He called my doctor.  "Take a Unisom and go to bed" was the response.

December 29th:  I slept most of the day.  When I woke up in the afternoon and realized I would have to stay pregnant for several weeks, I started to have a total breakdown.  I was not strong enough to do that.  I didn't feel safe in my own body.  We went to the ER.  I got Ativan.  I thought about drinking.  I was still pregnant.  It didn't make sense.  They could be wrong and I might hurt the baby.

December 30th:  Gordon is a fixer.  He couldn't stand my depression.  He needed to fix me.  That's one of the things I love about him the most.  He started calling people.  He called OB/GYN's in San Antonio, Austin, Houston, Dallas-Fort Worth.  He called so many he lost track.  "My wife had a 20 week intrauterine fetal demise.  Her OB can't get her in till mid January.  Is there anyone in your office who could see her for a D&E in the next few days?"  It was like Mary and Joseph looking desperately for a place with no room in the inn, even for a baby that wouldn't take up a crib.  Finally, an office explained.  "A D&E is a specialized procedure.  There's a risk the head might pop off,  go through her uterus and float around her abdomen.  Then she'll need more surgery to remove the head.  It's pretty much a late term abortion."  The wheels started turning.  Calls were made to a different type of practitioner.  There was a place very close to where I went to school.  It would be $600.  Gordon called my doctors office with a plan in mind.  They said they couldn't stop us, but my doctor would like "fetal tissue" for "cytogenetic testing".  We would do what we could.

December 31st:  We went to the "clinic". I sat in a room with my husband, surrounded by people.  Some talking, even laughing, others more somnolent.  I didn't know any of their stories.  I didn't really care.  I knew MY story, and it wasn't one I wanted to tell.  They called me back to ultrasound.  I prayed in some quiet, secret place that it had been a mistake.  I knew it wasn't.  I was right.  They checked my antibodies.  I wouldn't need rhogam.  I knew that already, too.  They took me back to my room.  My bed was on the back wall with the door to the right.  In between the door and the bed was a table with canisters that dropped down under neath.  The suction was hooked up.  A stool sat in the opposite corner to the door.  They asked if I wanted sedation.  I said no.  The doctor recommended I take it, and I wasn't really in a mental position to argue.  I lay there, with a tech and the doctor in the room wondering what I'd done wrong... 

I don't remember a lot of the procedure.  I remember the sound of the suction.  More harsh and grainy than a vacuum cleaner.  I remember asking to see him.  If I could see my son.  The tech told me there were just pieces. That was ok.  I needed something I could identify as human so I knew this was real, so that I knew I had been a mom to this "fetal tissue".  When they finished, the tech escorted me to recovery. Gordon still wasn't allowed to come back.  I didn't want him there.  I felt like I'd failed him... As a wife, as a woman.  I couldn't even grow him a baby.  What a loser.  

They were closing when I finished " recovering". As I walked out, the tech handed me a specimen cup. "For your doctor to do the testing.  Just take it to the lab." It was his arm.  

Gordon drove us home.  I was wearing my Navy sweatshirt.  The cup was in my pocket.  We picked up the kids at home, our sitter had to go take care of her family.  The five of us drove to an area hospital, and came into the ER with me.  The registration clerk looked at me with confusion and disgust.  It was ok, I felt the same way about myself and the circumstances.  

I sat in a fast track room in the ER for what seemed like hours, my " specimen " tucked safely into my pocket.  A nurse came in to take it.  I started crying, apologized, and asked for just a few more minutes.  This was the only time I would be able to hold my baby outside my womb.  She came back, and I relented.

I left the ER about 9pm.  We drove home, and there was nothing.  I didn't think I was sad, mad, tired... I was empty.  I went to bed.  

When I woke up, it was a new year, a new semester, and I'd like to say new faith, but that part took time.  I Tried to avoid feeling, thinking... I did give it to God in enough time to find out I was pregnant early February.  That pregnancy ended in demise as well, but it was such a different experience.  I had grown in faith and in humanity.

Why am I sharing this?  Especially on what is supposed to be a light, fun, kids say silly things post?  Partly for my own selfish reasons.  5 years ago, I had an abortion.  I don't think I ever really "processed" it.  I thank you for letting me do so.

The other reason is for a cry to humanity.  My experience was so....bizarre....but God taught me SO much.  The staff at the clinic were truly amazing.  Their empathy and gentile care was a million times more than what I'd received from my "Christian", respectable, respected OB.  They were more compassionate in a place that is shunned and picketed than at an office of high repute.
So before you judge, picket, slam, protest....think about ALL the people involved.  Instead of holding up a graphic sign, sit down outside and take a woman to coffee.  Take her to lunch.  Get to know her as a person.  You don't know HER story, and she doesn't know yours.  Make a difference.  Be Jesus.  Save lives.  An abortion clinic saved mine....

Deep thoughts with Annika and Siri

We're currently driving from Galesburg, Illinois back to our home in Texas. The weather has been... questionable for December in the mid west.  Right this very moment, I'm in the bathroom of a Kum-n-go, taking the advice of my grandmother, "if you have the chance to try to go, you should at least try.".
I walked past a conglomeration of cheap redneck souvenir options and into the overly florally deodorized particle board- paneled stall.  Siri had already locked herself in the smaller of the two stalls and I could see her feet swinging as she sat.  I pulled down Annikas pants and sat her on the stained, plastic toilet seat.  I tried not to think of what else had occupied that spot today.
Siri and Annika often have bathroom conversations, but this one was more profound than normal. 
" Annika, these bathrooms are wood, and that means they are nice. And expensive.  Do you know what wood is made of? "
Don't laugh, don't laugh, don't laugh... She was so serious with her delivery...
"Annika, this wood... It's made from TREES.  wood is made from TREES, Annika.  Remember that the wood you see in nature, it's made from TREES.".
Annikas eyes lit up.  She wiped and got off the potty using entirely too much palm-to-toilet contact for my comfort.  She touched the paneling.  " oOoooOoOooh!  Trees are made of WOOD...."

We still have 10 hours to drive...

And, Annika probably has Ebola.