Baseball practice starts this week. Now that it looks like baseball practice will be a fixture in our lives, let's go back to one year ago this week. . .
(on heartlight)
I hate baseball!
There you have it. Just as my delay in seeing The Passion of The Christ calls my citizenship in heaven into question, I feel certain that my loathing of America's past-time also calls my United States citizenship into question. But there it is — I hate baseball.
So God, having the fabulous sense of humor I feel any loving Creator should have, sent me a son. A son, who, in his 7th year, wants to play baseball more than anything. Soccer? Nope. Basketball? Nothin' doin'. Baseball? Sign him up!
Sign him up we did. Now we've invested in cleats, hats, socks, belts, and numerous other items that seem to be essential for playing a game of baseball. Now I spend my evenings sitting in the not-yet-warm West Texas wind watching small children learn to "throw a string, not a rainbow." I figure in a one hour Little League game (and I think I'm being optimistic to assume it will only last an hour) that the ball in motion and all subsequent action will total approximately 12 minutes of that game. My son's part in the action may total about 4 minutes. Again, I believe myself to be an optimist.
I admit that my disdain has had to give way to minor dislike as I watch the enthusiasm that my son has for the sport. Minutes waiting for practice to begin (PRACTICE, mind you – we haven't even had a game yet!) are painstaking agony. Minutes at practice fly by all too quickly. The little leaguer gushes with knowledge and excitement after each practice.
Finally, last night I admit my heart thawed totally toward the sport. I commented, in all honesty, "Well, I'm really glad that you seem to like it." His response was nothing less than incredulous: "Like it?!?! Are you kidding?!?! It's the best thing that ever happened to me!!!"
Now, keep in mind that my son's life is not necessarily fraught with hardship — unless you count unloading the dishwasher and feeding the dog difficult manual labor. But, if baseball is the best thing that ever happened to him, then buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jacks, I don't care if I never get back from the old ball game!
I have laughed to myself at how little it took to change my view of the game — simply the fact that it is the delight of one of the loves of my life. I believe that those of us blessed to be parents are given that task in order to get a tiny glimpse into God's love for us.
Lately, I have been perplexed by the verse "Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart." (Psalm 37:4) What if the desire of my heart involves 6-pack abs and single digit clothing sizes? I have no hard and fast answers (nor hard abs), but I do know that this spring West Texas day was one of the best things that ever happened to me. And I do believe that it tickled God to no end for me to tell Him so. I also believe that as I continue to pour out my heart to God and know Him as the loving parent He is, the desires of my heart will more closely match His. Without a doubt, HE is the best thing that ever happened to me!
Monday
Saturday
Some Favorite Pics
These pictures are old, but they are on my screen saver and make me smile every time I see them. They are from a VERY cold fishing trip that Troy took the kids on -- I guess about 2 years ago now. I remember that I slept in and had a grand morning by myself while they froze and obviously caught some fish. Of course, had I been awake before they left, I would have pointed out to Ashley that she was wearing her brother's jeans, but no matter. The fish didn't seem to notice. I love the looks on both faces, and Riley's snaggle-tooth, little bit grossed out grin. I don't think there are any pictures of the Head Fisherman on this trip, but he's my hero, too, since this is something I would not likely allow our children to experience were it just up to me. I do outdoors under certain conditions which include balmy breezes and no fish.
Friday
Recipe Blog Requests
SuperMom and Denise have both asked about the Recipe Blog. By all means, let's fire it up if you have something to post to it! The original "plan" was to simply post something in the comments and I would move it. I would be happy to add any and all folks as administrators that would like to post a recipe. Email me and I'll fix you up! My email is in my profile -- under "email me"! Pretty clever, huh?
Thursday
Death of SuperWife
I was really struck, like most of us were, by the recent death of Dana Reeve. Too many tragedies for one little family. I grieve for the son, Will, left behind, but I am thankful for the legacy both his mother and father left to him. I saw this account and thought that these personal qualities are VERY rare in our society today, and rarer still among the celebrity crowd:
This somewhat goes with an article that is brewing in my brain about, "Have I loved them (my family) enough today?" Stay tuned!
From Yahoo! News
Reeve made one of her final public appearances at a fund-raising event for the foundation in November and said she was responding well to treatment and that her tumor was shrinking.
"I'm beating the odds and defying every statistic the doctors can throw at me," Reeve said then. "My prognosis looks better all the time."
She said she kept her spirits up by remembering the man she spent years caring for.
"I was married to a man who never gave up," she said. "He taught me so much about courage and about going forward. He really was in this with me."
By his own account, Christopher Reeve admired many of the same qualities in the woman he credited with giving him the will to go on after the devastating riding accident that left him paralyzed from the neck down and unable to breathe on his own.
In his 1998 autobiography, Still Me, the actor wrote that in the days immediately following his accident, both he and his mother were in favor of disconnecting the life-support machines and allowing him to die, but that his wife changed his mind.
"Dana came into the room...I mouthed my first lucid words to her: 'Maybe we should let me go,'" Reeve recalled in the memoir. "She said, 'I'm only going to say this once: I will support whatever you want to do because this is your life. And your decision. But I want you to know that I'll be with you for the long haul, no matter what.'"
"Then she added the words that saved my life: 'You're still you. And I love you.'"
This somewhat goes with an article that is brewing in my brain about, "Have I loved them (my family) enough today?" Stay tuned!
Wednesday
Give and It Will Be Given To You
by Sarah Stirman
on heartlight
I heard a report on Christian radio recently that stated while 2/3 of Christians believe that tithing is a "biblical mandate," churches report that only 5-10% of their members do it. I can't decide if that means that the remaining vast majority — those that believe in the "biblical mandate" but don't tithe — are okay with not following the mandate, or just don't comprehend that their beliefs should be reflected in their actions.
While my family participates in tithing our income, I don't particularly care for the word itself. It's just a matter of semantics; but in my mind, today's society has transformed the word "tithing” to mean you are going to separate out what you feel is required to give to God — and that's all.
Tithing, to me, calls to mind a small pile in the corner of what to give to God. "Here, let me section this out, Lord. This little bitty percentage? No, under the mortgage, less than the food budget, less than either car payment — yes, that 5th line is yours. Not bad, huh? Well, now that I've done my part I can check that off until next month.”
Please stop reading for a moment and list all of the things that you have handled better than the Lord — any situation, relationship, or decision that you did better without the Lord's help. Go ahead, I'll wait. I'll be humming the theme song to Jeopardy while you think on that ...
So, how is the list going? Mine is fairly short. Actually, mine is non-existent. The Lord has been faithful and shown me again and again that His way is ALWAYS better. I want to give the Lord complete reign over my life and in every aspect of it. My tithe to the Lord — and I don't just mean my financial tithe — is my reminder that all of my life is given to Him to control.
My family absolutely believes in giving to the Lord's work, but I pray we never stop at just 10 percent. The other 90 percent also came from the Lord. While it may not go to a non-profit institution or be given to church work, it will be used for the Lord's work.
My home is to be used to house and raise the Lord's children he so graciously has "loaned" to me for a time. My house will also be used to welcome His children — believers and non-believers alike — to nourish and care for them. My vehicle is a blessing from the Lord to be used to take me, and anyone else that will fit into it, to do what the Lord has placed on my heart. I pray that all of the resources the Lord has given me that I will, in turn, hand back to Him and say, "What would you have me do with this?”
I want to do more than just "tithe” my time to God. When I rise early in the morning to soak in God's Word and pour out praises and petitions to Him, I don't conclude my time with Him by saying, "Whew! Glad that's all I have to give Him today!” No, I start there to fill my heart with His word, but strive to "pray without ceasing” as I walk with Him throughout my day. Sometimes He has to break into a jog to keep up, but He's always there!
Please don't hear me saying not to tithe! What I'm trying to say is that a tithe should just be the beginning of giving God all that you have. Your tithe is not only obedience to God, but a symbol to yourself that you will also give the Lord the rest of your time, money, talents, and gifts.
Jesus said, "If you give, you will receive. Your gift will return to you in full measure, pressed down, shaken together to make room for more, and running over. Whatever measure you use in giving — large or small — it will be used to measure what is given back to you." (Luke 6:38)
Do you really want the Lord counting pennies when he gives back to you?
on heartlight
I heard a report on Christian radio recently that stated while 2/3 of Christians believe that tithing is a "biblical mandate," churches report that only 5-10% of their members do it. I can't decide if that means that the remaining vast majority — those that believe in the "biblical mandate" but don't tithe — are okay with not following the mandate, or just don't comprehend that their beliefs should be reflected in their actions.
While my family participates in tithing our income, I don't particularly care for the word itself. It's just a matter of semantics; but in my mind, today's society has transformed the word "tithing” to mean you are going to separate out what you feel is required to give to God — and that's all.
Tithing, to me, calls to mind a small pile in the corner of what to give to God. "Here, let me section this out, Lord. This little bitty percentage? No, under the mortgage, less than the food budget, less than either car payment — yes, that 5th line is yours. Not bad, huh? Well, now that I've done my part I can check that off until next month.”
Please stop reading for a moment and list all of the things that you have handled better than the Lord — any situation, relationship, or decision that you did better without the Lord's help. Go ahead, I'll wait. I'll be humming the theme song to Jeopardy while you think on that ...
So, how is the list going? Mine is fairly short. Actually, mine is non-existent. The Lord has been faithful and shown me again and again that His way is ALWAYS better. I want to give the Lord complete reign over my life and in every aspect of it. My tithe to the Lord — and I don't just mean my financial tithe — is my reminder that all of my life is given to Him to control.
My family absolutely believes in giving to the Lord's work, but I pray we never stop at just 10 percent. The other 90 percent also came from the Lord. While it may not go to a non-profit institution or be given to church work, it will be used for the Lord's work.
My home is to be used to house and raise the Lord's children he so graciously has "loaned" to me for a time. My house will also be used to welcome His children — believers and non-believers alike — to nourish and care for them. My vehicle is a blessing from the Lord to be used to take me, and anyone else that will fit into it, to do what the Lord has placed on my heart. I pray that all of the resources the Lord has given me that I will, in turn, hand back to Him and say, "What would you have me do with this?”
I want to do more than just "tithe” my time to God. When I rise early in the morning to soak in God's Word and pour out praises and petitions to Him, I don't conclude my time with Him by saying, "Whew! Glad that's all I have to give Him today!” No, I start there to fill my heart with His word, but strive to "pray without ceasing” as I walk with Him throughout my day. Sometimes He has to break into a jog to keep up, but He's always there!
Please don't hear me saying not to tithe! What I'm trying to say is that a tithe should just be the beginning of giving God all that you have. Your tithe is not only obedience to God, but a symbol to yourself that you will also give the Lord the rest of your time, money, talents, and gifts.
Jesus said, "If you give, you will receive. Your gift will return to you in full measure, pressed down, shaken together to make room for more, and running over. Whatever measure you use in giving — large or small — it will be used to measure what is given back to you." (Luke 6:38)
Do you really want the Lord counting pennies when he gives back to you?
Sunday
This One You Really Have toThink About
The Jews would not willingly tread upon the smallest piece of paper in their way, but took it up; for possibly, they say, the name of God may be on it. Though there was a little superstition in this, yet truly there is nothing but good religion in it, if we apply it to men. Trample not on any; there may be some work of grace there, that thou knowest not of. The name of God may be written upon that soul thou treadest on; it may be a soul that Christ thought so much of, as to give His precious blood for it; therefore despise it not. -- S. T. Coleridge
Saturday
Stroll Down Memory Lane
I plan to spend a few days enjoying time with my family. While I take a bit of a "blogger break", enjoy some of my personal favorites from the past. A word of warning: Pace yourself, people!
Words of Wisdom
Faith of our Fathers
From Years Gone By
Her Children Arise and Call Her Blessed
The Difference Between Moms and Dads
Morning Drop-Off
Amazing Love
Put Your Happy Face On
Honor Where Honor Is Due
Things You Really Don't Want to Know
Words of Wisdom
Faith of our Fathers
From Years Gone By
Her Children Arise and Call Her Blessed
The Difference Between Moms and Dads
Morning Drop-Off
Amazing Love
Put Your Happy Face On
Honor Where Honor Is Due
Things You Really Don't Want to Know
Friday
Ages and Stages
Remember when you would be sitting with a group of friends and someone would pass around gum or mints for everyone, or even cigarettes or a drink, of the alcoholic or carbonated variety, depending on your crowd?
Today at coffee someone got out their ibuprofen and passed it around. We all thought about whether or not we needed it before we passed on it, though. We are definitely in a different stage of life!
Today at coffee someone got out their ibuprofen and passed it around. We all thought about whether or not we needed it before we passed on it, though. We are definitely in a different stage of life!
Thursday
Losing It
I am not a loser. Okay, I may be a loser by your definition (I haven't seen Napoleon Dynamite, after all) but I don't generally lose things. Temporarily misplace? All the time. But if I'll sit and think about the last time I saw something instead of frantically opening and then slamming drawers and doors, I can generally think of where the item is. The last two weeks, however, I have lost SO many things it's ridiculous. Maybe it's because Riley had the flu, I was home and got out of a regular routine. I don't know, but a partial list of what I have lost:
- sunglasses --lost twice, currently atop my head
- mascara
- nametag for work -- generally not a big deal, except for today when there is a fancy-schmancy press conference with a political official
- index card notebook where I keep my scriptures (selected scriptures to memorize -- I keep ALL of my scriptures neatly bound in my Bible, and I currently know where that is)
- Ashley's LTC registration form
- Church contribution check -- go figure!
I do have to admit, that I don't think any of these are as bad as Denise, who evidently lost a shirt without knowing it.
Everyone say it with me: "Of all the things I've lost, I miss my mind the most!"
Wednesday
Let Me Be a Light
by Sarah Stirman
on heartlight
My new MP3 player goes with me everywhere: work, the gym, a walk in the neighborhood, and frequently the grocery store. I will pause the player while I talk to someone and have been known to then take it off and forget that it's even turned on. Fortunately, I invested in an MP3 player that has an automatic shut-off feature. However, I think I have come to realize that the automatic shut-off feature works like this: when the battery is completely dead, the player will shut itself off. Now I just carry a stash of batteries in my purse and gym bag.
I was changing out the battery yet again and laughing at the not-very-handy automatic shut-off feature when I realized that humans have basically the same feature: we know it's time to take a break, go on "pause," only when we are forced to slow down due to illness, injury, or complete emotional exhaustion.
I am nursing a sprained ankle. I gave my ankle precisely 72 hours of tip-top care and rest and then said, "That's enough! It's time to get back to work!" That didn't work very well, so I set off as fast as my crutches could carry me — back to the break-neck speed of life in my home. Then my 8 year-old came down with the flu. Neither he nor I have done a very good job of staying home and resting. Even when we are forced to slow down, we don't do it very well.
In a recent Bible class, we discussed the following question: "What activities keep you from drawing near to God?" We settled on this answer: all of them put together! Involved in this discussion were people active in church and our community. We spend our days and evenings in meeting after meeting, interspersed with other wonderful activities and ministries. In the middle of it all, we can scarcely remember why we do it. I confessed that the hectic schedule and running through life is a tug and temptation to keep up with the world that is stronger for me than many other temptations.
It certainly isn't how Jesus conducted his ministry. John 6 gives us a snapshot in time when Jesus was at the top of his game: people were flocking to him to be healed and hear what he had to say. Thousands were gathered when he fed them all from a little boy's sack lunch. The divine leftovers were enough to fill a basket for each disciple to hold and feel the weight of his abundant blessings. People noticed and declared: "He must truly be the Prophet that is coming into the world.” (John 6:14 ERV) What Jesus did next completely baffles me: "Jesus knew that the people wanted him to become king. The people planned to come get Jesus and make him their king. So Jesus left and went into the hills alone." (John 6:15)
He knew he would be useless to all without time with his Father.There were thousands of people around him. Dozens, if not hundreds of them, needed a physical ailment healed. All needed to hear his words. But Jesus knew his task on this earth, and he knew who had sent him. He knew he would be useless to all without time with his Father.
Jesus told us, "Let your light shine before men in such a way that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father who is in heaven." (Matthew 5:16 NASB) What if I'm not plugged into my power source, or have so little power I look like a flashlight on its last drop of battery power? I MUST fiercely protect my time to recharge and spend time with my God so that I may be His light so that others may see Him in me.
In order to do that, I will have to look a lot different from the people around me — even the people at my church. My children may not play every sport available. I will have to sacrifice my pride of being sure that no one else will organize the fellowship meal as well as I would. I may have to humbly admit that fewer activities — even the activities that I suggested and/or planned — at my church and more real time with the Lord is what will allow me to be His light. I will finally have to realize that truly knowing Him, not continually DOING, will lead me to be His light.
Maybe then I will "withdraw to a mountain by myself" before I completely run out of power!
on heartlight
My new MP3 player goes with me everywhere: work, the gym, a walk in the neighborhood, and frequently the grocery store. I will pause the player while I talk to someone and have been known to then take it off and forget that it's even turned on. Fortunately, I invested in an MP3 player that has an automatic shut-off feature. However, I think I have come to realize that the automatic shut-off feature works like this: when the battery is completely dead, the player will shut itself off. Now I just carry a stash of batteries in my purse and gym bag.
I was changing out the battery yet again and laughing at the not-very-handy automatic shut-off feature when I realized that humans have basically the same feature: we know it's time to take a break, go on "pause," only when we are forced to slow down due to illness, injury, or complete emotional exhaustion.
I am nursing a sprained ankle. I gave my ankle precisely 72 hours of tip-top care and rest and then said, "That's enough! It's time to get back to work!" That didn't work very well, so I set off as fast as my crutches could carry me — back to the break-neck speed of life in my home. Then my 8 year-old came down with the flu. Neither he nor I have done a very good job of staying home and resting. Even when we are forced to slow down, we don't do it very well.
In a recent Bible class, we discussed the following question: "What activities keep you from drawing near to God?" We settled on this answer: all of them put together! Involved in this discussion were people active in church and our community. We spend our days and evenings in meeting after meeting, interspersed with other wonderful activities and ministries. In the middle of it all, we can scarcely remember why we do it. I confessed that the hectic schedule and running through life is a tug and temptation to keep up with the world that is stronger for me than many other temptations.
It certainly isn't how Jesus conducted his ministry. John 6 gives us a snapshot in time when Jesus was at the top of his game: people were flocking to him to be healed and hear what he had to say. Thousands were gathered when he fed them all from a little boy's sack lunch. The divine leftovers were enough to fill a basket for each disciple to hold and feel the weight of his abundant blessings. People noticed and declared: "He must truly be the Prophet that is coming into the world.” (John 6:14 ERV) What Jesus did next completely baffles me: "Jesus knew that the people wanted him to become king. The people planned to come get Jesus and make him their king. So Jesus left and went into the hills alone." (John 6:15)
He knew he would be useless to all without time with his Father.There were thousands of people around him. Dozens, if not hundreds of them, needed a physical ailment healed. All needed to hear his words. But Jesus knew his task on this earth, and he knew who had sent him. He knew he would be useless to all without time with his Father.
Jesus told us, "Let your light shine before men in such a way that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father who is in heaven." (Matthew 5:16 NASB) What if I'm not plugged into my power source, or have so little power I look like a flashlight on its last drop of battery power? I MUST fiercely protect my time to recharge and spend time with my God so that I may be His light so that others may see Him in me.
In order to do that, I will have to look a lot different from the people around me — even the people at my church. My children may not play every sport available. I will have to sacrifice my pride of being sure that no one else will organize the fellowship meal as well as I would. I may have to humbly admit that fewer activities — even the activities that I suggested and/or planned — at my church and more real time with the Lord is what will allow me to be His light. I will finally have to realize that truly knowing Him, not continually DOING, will lead me to be His light.
Maybe then I will "withdraw to a mountain by myself" before I completely run out of power!
Tuesday
Springtime in Texas!
It's time to:
- Get out the summer clothes, but don't put away the winter clothes
- Make sure there are batteries in a radio for tornado season
- Put blankets and lawn chairs in the back of the car for baseball season
- Keep a brush in the car, in your purse, and in your desk at work for "skirt alert" windy days!
- Stock up on allergy medicine
- Start brushing the dog -- or vacuuming her! -- to alleviate shedding
- Make sure all of the crayons are out of the car before they melt into the upholstery
- Get a pedicure!
I'm sure I've left something off -- what would you add?
Monday
A Verse for Sarah Today, and tomorrow, and the next day. . .
Guard your steps when you go to the house of God. Go near to listen rather than to offer the sacrifice of fools, who do not know that they do wrong.
Do not be quick with your mouth,
do not be hasty in your heart
to utter anything before God.
God is in heaven
and you are on earth,
so let your words be few.
As a dream comes when there are many cares,
so the speech of a fool when there are many words.
Ecclesiastes 5:1-3
Do not be quick with your mouth,
do not be hasty in your heart
to utter anything before God.
God is in heaven
and you are on earth,
so let your words be few.
As a dream comes when there are many cares,
so the speech of a fool when there are many words.
Ecclesiastes 5:1-3
Sunday
Blog Re-Run
(I smelled this smell over the weekend and was reminded of this story. Still makes me laugh. . .)
I don't know what category this story fits into, but it still cracks me up. Well, I say that as if it cracked me up at the time. It did not. This is from the "diaper days" as I so lovingly (not-so-much) refer to those toddler years.
The church we attended at the time had 3-4 potluck luncheons a year. Wonderful, right? Not so much. They also requested that you bring _3_ dishes of food to feed 12-18 people each. So I would get up between 5 and 6 a.m. to finish up and get all of those dishes cooked and up to church so that they could be served stone cold AND (always my favorite part) I would return home with 3 dishes of food, each with about 2 spoonfuls taken from them. Can you tell I'm still bitter? I am. Actually what brought this story to mind was reading a recent bulletin of theirs -- they're still pulling it off. God love 'em! :-) So I was always looking for different things to take that would be easy -- I was frequently tempted, but never did bring a loaf of bread and jar of peanut butter.
One time I had the fabulous idea to bake potatoes to take (12-18 potatoes, of course). What could be easier, right? I got them all prepped the day before, woke up and turned on the oven. We had a little cooler to take them in -- maybe they would even still be warm! All went well -- until THE SMELL. "WHAT is that smell?!?" The kids were marveling, "MMMMMM, it's baked potatoes! Yummy!" But something was definitely not right. I finally realized that in our little tiny kitchen Troy had fed the dog and put the Rubbermaid pitcher of dog food down on an oven burner. Not just any oven burner-- the one where the oven vented air approximately 200* hotter than the oven was actually cooking. When we realized what it was, Troy jerked up the pitcher. Or, what was left of it. The bottom had, of course, completely liquified and dog food spewed all over the kitchen -- including back down into the oven vent. Yes, we were smelling grilled dog food along with melted plastic. The dog food was charred and stuck to the burner, and the plastic was still so melty and ooey-gooey that it was EVERYWHERE. Just one of those wonderful moments of meditation and quiet we all like to have on our way to church. We cleaned up the best we could, took our potatoes to church and had our luncheon. That afternoon, when I came home with 11 potatoes, the smell was still awful. But the kids were ruined, "Yum! It still smells like baked potatoes!"
Oh, but that's not all. Don't you love that God has such a fabulous sense of humor. Only a funny God like ours would have put a dog food processing plant between our house and Troy's work. So on the best of days when the dog food plant was really cranked up and we happened to be going to see Daddy or whatever we could drive by and smell that fabulous char-broiled dog food smell AND the kids never failed to say, "I smell baked potatoes!"
In my more clever moments, I may be able to make some sort of analogy about Satan leading us to believe the world has yummy, fluffy baked potatoes to offer when it's really just burned dog food. But not tonight.
I don't know what category this story fits into, but it still cracks me up. Well, I say that as if it cracked me up at the time. It did not. This is from the "diaper days" as I so lovingly (not-so-much) refer to those toddler years.
The church we attended at the time had 3-4 potluck luncheons a year. Wonderful, right? Not so much. They also requested that you bring _3_ dishes of food to feed 12-18 people each. So I would get up between 5 and 6 a.m. to finish up and get all of those dishes cooked and up to church so that they could be served stone cold AND (always my favorite part) I would return home with 3 dishes of food, each with about 2 spoonfuls taken from them. Can you tell I'm still bitter? I am. Actually what brought this story to mind was reading a recent bulletin of theirs -- they're still pulling it off. God love 'em! :-) So I was always looking for different things to take that would be easy -- I was frequently tempted, but never did bring a loaf of bread and jar of peanut butter.
One time I had the fabulous idea to bake potatoes to take (12-18 potatoes, of course). What could be easier, right? I got them all prepped the day before, woke up and turned on the oven. We had a little cooler to take them in -- maybe they would even still be warm! All went well -- until THE SMELL. "WHAT is that smell?!?" The kids were marveling, "MMMMMM, it's baked potatoes! Yummy!" But something was definitely not right. I finally realized that in our little tiny kitchen Troy had fed the dog and put the Rubbermaid pitcher of dog food down on an oven burner. Not just any oven burner-- the one where the oven vented air approximately 200* hotter than the oven was actually cooking. When we realized what it was, Troy jerked up the pitcher. Or, what was left of it. The bottom had, of course, completely liquified and dog food spewed all over the kitchen -- including back down into the oven vent. Yes, we were smelling grilled dog food along with melted plastic. The dog food was charred and stuck to the burner, and the plastic was still so melty and ooey-gooey that it was EVERYWHERE. Just one of those wonderful moments of meditation and quiet we all like to have on our way to church. We cleaned up the best we could, took our potatoes to church and had our luncheon. That afternoon, when I came home with 11 potatoes, the smell was still awful. But the kids were ruined, "Yum! It still smells like baked potatoes!"
Oh, but that's not all. Don't you love that God has such a fabulous sense of humor. Only a funny God like ours would have put a dog food processing plant between our house and Troy's work. So on the best of days when the dog food plant was really cranked up and we happened to be going to see Daddy or whatever we could drive by and smell that fabulous char-broiled dog food smell AND the kids never failed to say, "I smell baked potatoes!"
In my more clever moments, I may be able to make some sort of analogy about Satan leading us to believe the world has yummy, fluffy baked potatoes to offer when it's really just burned dog food. But not tonight.
It's All About ME!!
I answered a recent questionaire about what personality trait I can't stand in other people by saying I can't stand it when people act as if they are the center of the universe. So, as is His way, the Lord handed me a mirror.
I'm a horrible counselor/ therapist. When people are discussing really difficult things, I REALLY don't know what to say. And, more than anything, I don't want them to feel uncomfortable or, worse, that I think they're awful for whatever it is they are confiding in me about. So I generally end up telling a story -- of course, about myself. It's my (very long-winded) way of saying, "yeah, I know what you mean. That has been a struggle for me, as well." But, of course, it shifts the conversation to me. I have been made painfully aware of this recently.
So, to anyone that I may have prayed with in the last few days, or anyone that may think that I consider myself the center of the universe, I apologize. And, to my cord of three -- please kick me under the table, or glare at me from across the prayer room when I start to do it again!
I'm a horrible counselor/ therapist. When people are discussing really difficult things, I REALLY don't know what to say. And, more than anything, I don't want them to feel uncomfortable or, worse, that I think they're awful for whatever it is they are confiding in me about. So I generally end up telling a story -- of course, about myself. It's my (very long-winded) way of saying, "yeah, I know what you mean. That has been a struggle for me, as well." But, of course, it shifts the conversation to me. I have been made painfully aware of this recently.
So, to anyone that I may have prayed with in the last few days, or anyone that may think that I consider myself the center of the universe, I apologize. And, to my cord of three -- please kick me under the table, or glare at me from across the prayer room when I start to do it again!
Saturday
The Chikins R Here! The Chikins R Here!
Glory be! The new Chick-Fil-A opened this week about half a mile from my house! Jee-hosaphat, you would think that Abilene had never seen a chicken sandwich. I say that, because the two times I went there on the 2nd day it opened were both crazy! :-)
I only ate there ONCE -- Riley and I were grocery shopping, and a Chick-Fil-A cow and some employees were in the grocery story parking lot handing out stuffed cows and coupons.
Never one to turn down a free sandwich, we settled on Chick-Fil-A for lunch. The power of suggestion. Then, on our date night, that turned into "do-a-puzzle-with-the-flu-dude-while-Troy-cleans-out-the-fish-tank" night, I picked up Chick-Fil-A for Troy. By Friday night, they had hired 2 police officers to direct traffic around the building. Just nutty.
I will confess that the opening of Chick-Fil-A is almost as exciting as when Jason's Deli opened here. Now if we could just get a Macaroni Grill. . . .
Friday
Flu Week
When my brain is functioning again, I will write about the Armageddon scene that was the pediatrician's office on Monday afternoon. Yikes. AND the pharmacy was exactly the same way. If you know any health care workers -- feed them chocolate during flu season! Riley has the flu, which means that I have heard the theme to "Sponge Bob" approximately 58 times this week, and caught glimpses of the Lindsey Lohan version of "Parent Trap" about 27 times. Those that know me know that I limit my kids to 30 min. of TV per day, so a guilty pleasure when you're sick is to be able to park in front of the TV until your brains leak out your ears.
Since I am unable to string 2 sentences together coherently, head over to "This One's For the Girls" and take her movie quote quiz. I notice in the comments that several of them must be from Napoleon Dynamite, which I haven't seen. Yes, there are still 6 people in America that haven't seen that movie. Anyway, I recognize about half of them. See if you can do any better! There's a prize! :-)
Since I am unable to string 2 sentences together coherently, head over to "This One's For the Girls" and take her movie quote quiz. I notice in the comments that several of them must be from Napoleon Dynamite, which I haven't seen. Yes, there are still 6 people in America that haven't seen that movie. Anyway, I recognize about half of them. See if you can do any better! There's a prize! :-)
Wednesday
Tuesday
Embellishment Opportunities
by Sarah Stirman
on heartlight
I recently tackled a “do-it-yourself” project far outside of the areas of my expertise: I painted a scripture on my daughter’s bedroom wall. In preparing to do that, I rationalized to myself that it was only words and I’m good with words. I know how to write on paper, a wall can’t be too different, right? I knew enough to mark the bottom line of the words with masking tape – my years of an educator writing on the chalkboard have revealed to me my tendency to gravitate my words toward the ground. I very lightly penciled the words where I wanted them to go.
Paint in hand and masking tape in place, I embarked on my project. It didn’t take too very long at all to realize that a heavily textured wall was far different from my yellow legal pad as a writing surface. The paint became bumpy and out of line, making an enormous mess. My scripture looked as if I were using my feet and a broken crayon instead of painstakingly painting each letter.
After I had finished one word, I could stand it no longer and opened the can of the original wall color (we had just recently painted the room – and I HIGHLY recommend having the wall color on hand for this project). I took my tiny touch-up brush and began correcting my mistakes. Soon I realized that was the fun part. With just a few little strokes, the bumpity mess I had thrown on the wall transformed into the precise wording I had originally envisioned. The touch-up was definitely crucial to my masterpiece.
Soon I painted with abandon, having a grand time getting the words on the wall, knowing that the key to a beautiful finished product was in the touch-up. One time I heard Frank Bielec, a designer for the TV show “Trading Spaces” say, “There are no mistakes in life. There are only embellishment opportunities.” I had plenty of embellishment opportunities on the wall, which called to mind the embellishment opportunities in my life.
As I painted I began to think of the people in my life that are my touch-up brush. Steve sees me as an award-winning writer, Tammy sees me as a brilliant mind, and Troy sees me as the complete package: beautiful woman of God with a loving, compassionate heart. I am immensely blessed to have people that see me as a masterpiece as their love covers over the embellishment opportunities I create. The family and community of God has afforded me a safe place to be the real me, warts and all.
Because of the security of the love of their eyes, I am able to live and love with abandon, having a grand time as I envision the finished product God will create of me. I hope and pray that I may see others as a Masterpiece of the Master’s making, after the touch-up of His love has perfected my view of them.
No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us. 1 John 4:12
on heartlight
I recently tackled a “do-it-yourself” project far outside of the areas of my expertise: I painted a scripture on my daughter’s bedroom wall. In preparing to do that, I rationalized to myself that it was only words and I’m good with words. I know how to write on paper, a wall can’t be too different, right? I knew enough to mark the bottom line of the words with masking tape – my years of an educator writing on the chalkboard have revealed to me my tendency to gravitate my words toward the ground. I very lightly penciled the words where I wanted them to go.
Paint in hand and masking tape in place, I embarked on my project. It didn’t take too very long at all to realize that a heavily textured wall was far different from my yellow legal pad as a writing surface. The paint became bumpy and out of line, making an enormous mess. My scripture looked as if I were using my feet and a broken crayon instead of painstakingly painting each letter.
After I had finished one word, I could stand it no longer and opened the can of the original wall color (we had just recently painted the room – and I HIGHLY recommend having the wall color on hand for this project). I took my tiny touch-up brush and began correcting my mistakes. Soon I realized that was the fun part. With just a few little strokes, the bumpity mess I had thrown on the wall transformed into the precise wording I had originally envisioned. The touch-up was definitely crucial to my masterpiece.
Soon I painted with abandon, having a grand time getting the words on the wall, knowing that the key to a beautiful finished product was in the touch-up. One time I heard Frank Bielec, a designer for the TV show “Trading Spaces” say, “There are no mistakes in life. There are only embellishment opportunities.” I had plenty of embellishment opportunities on the wall, which called to mind the embellishment opportunities in my life.
As I painted I began to think of the people in my life that are my touch-up brush. Steve sees me as an award-winning writer, Tammy sees me as a brilliant mind, and Troy sees me as the complete package: beautiful woman of God with a loving, compassionate heart. I am immensely blessed to have people that see me as a masterpiece as their love covers over the embellishment opportunities I create. The family and community of God has afforded me a safe place to be the real me, warts and all.
Because of the security of the love of their eyes, I am able to live and love with abandon, having a grand time as I envision the finished product God will create of me. I hope and pray that I may see others as a Masterpiece of the Master’s making, after the touch-up of His love has perfected my view of them.
No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us. 1 John 4:12
Monday
To Ponder. . .
"The beauty of choosing to glorify God alone and to pursue a love for Him beyond all else is that every other thing of authentic value comes in the package."
Beth Moore
Beloved Disciple
Beth Moore
Beloved Disciple
It's a Shoe Thing
Our culture is evidently becoming somewhat Asian-influenced. Or clean-carpet influenced. Or something.
Troy and I work with the college kids at church. Mainly, we hang out with them and they let us. It works. I'm getting used to them wearing their flip-flops in 30* weather. They, in turn, are showing less hiney crack than before (thank goodness!)
Yesterday we went to our Campus Minister's home for a luncheon for the college kids. The stack of purses by the door didn't surprise me. All of the shoes next to the purses did. It was only female shoes -- almost every female there stopped at the door, put down her purse, and kicked off her shoes. I don't get it.
Troy and I work with the college kids at church. Mainly, we hang out with them and they let us. It works. I'm getting used to them wearing their flip-flops in 30* weather. They, in turn, are showing less hiney crack than before (thank goodness!)
Yesterday we went to our Campus Minister's home for a luncheon for the college kids. The stack of purses by the door didn't surprise me. All of the shoes next to the purses did. It was only female shoes -- almost every female there stopped at the door, put down her purse, and kicked off her shoes. I don't get it.
Saturday
Dreams
I've always had very strange, vivid dreams, so I'm always really interested in what they mean and how to interpret dreams. One "theme" I remember is that when the kids were really small -- everyone in diapers, or around there -- I used to have a dream that I would be in some common place: movie theater, church, the mall, etc. It would be exactly like it should be -- except there was water up to my chest. And, in my dream, that wasn't a problem. I would tread my way to my pew in church or to my seat at the movies, or to the store in the mall where I wanted to shop. It wasn't getting any deeper, so there was no threat. It just slowed everything down. I think in one or two of those dreams, the kids were with me, so I would put them on my shoulders or head. Again, acting as if this was perfectly normal. I must have felt like going anywhere or doing anything took forever --as if you were walking through water!
Troy was out of town one night this week and, as usual, I didn't sleep well. At one point, I just KNEW that someone was in my room (I think the dog wandered in there) and I was trying with all my might to wake up (and do what, I don't know). I could NOT make my body move, so I tried screaming (very clever, Sarah -- when you're paralyzed in your bed with a stranger in your room, be sure and let him know you're awake and helpless); nothing came out. Then the dream continued that one of the kids came out of their bedroom and needed my help and I still couldn't move. It was awful! Later I dreamed that I was on some kind of parade float, or maybe hay ride-type thing. Troy was there, too, and a few other people that I couldn't identify, but I was sitting next to Kendra. I guess we were having some sort of sing-along, and Kendra just burst into song. (this is one of the strangest parts of this dream -- I do NOT picture Kendra bursting into song.) It was a song that I realized I had heard before, and knew some of the words, but couldn't sing all of it. Somewhere in my dream, I thought, "This is that song!" I had read the lyrics to a song the day before and thought: "That sounds like a good song, but I don't know it." So, somewhere my sub-counscious dredged up that, yes, I do know that song, and had Kendra sing it in my dream! Crazy.
Troy wants to sell me to the circus. I'm really weird, I know.
Troy was out of town one night this week and, as usual, I didn't sleep well. At one point, I just KNEW that someone was in my room (I think the dog wandered in there) and I was trying with all my might to wake up (and do what, I don't know). I could NOT make my body move, so I tried screaming (very clever, Sarah -- when you're paralyzed in your bed with a stranger in your room, be sure and let him know you're awake and helpless); nothing came out. Then the dream continued that one of the kids came out of their bedroom and needed my help and I still couldn't move. It was awful! Later I dreamed that I was on some kind of parade float, or maybe hay ride-type thing. Troy was there, too, and a few other people that I couldn't identify, but I was sitting next to Kendra. I guess we were having some sort of sing-along, and Kendra just burst into song. (this is one of the strangest parts of this dream -- I do NOT picture Kendra bursting into song.) It was a song that I realized I had heard before, and knew some of the words, but couldn't sing all of it. Somewhere in my dream, I thought, "This is that song!" I had read the lyrics to a song the day before and thought: "That sounds like a good song, but I don't know it." So, somewhere my sub-counscious dredged up that, yes, I do know that song, and had Kendra sing it in my dream! Crazy.
Troy wants to sell me to the circus. I'm really weird, I know.
Thursday
Wednesday
Continued Prayers for Ira
Keep praying for Ira, Joe, Laura, and Sophia. Things aren't going well. Bless them all.
Tuesday
New Friends, Old Friends
My head is overflowing with the awareness of the work of God in my life!
First and foremost, the SUN came out for about 2 hours today. I think that was the first time since last week! Glory -- and don't ever THINK about having me move to any place in the arctic circle where it's night for 22 hours a day. No, thank you!
Then, I had lunch with a new friend, Cathy. We spent about 2 hours talking about my dreams and ways God may use me for His kingdom in the future. Cathy had to go, I stayed at the same spot and a long-time friend, Steve, parked next to me and we talked for over an hour about the last few years of my life and the myriad of ways the Lord has walked with me and been faithful.
Both of my friends illustrated what I believe we are called to do as Christian community -- encourage one another (hey, isn't that in Hebrews somewhere?), dream with each other, testify to God's work in our lives.
My cup overflows with godly friends!
First and foremost, the SUN came out for about 2 hours today. I think that was the first time since last week! Glory -- and don't ever THINK about having me move to any place in the arctic circle where it's night for 22 hours a day. No, thank you!
Then, I had lunch with a new friend, Cathy. We spent about 2 hours talking about my dreams and ways God may use me for His kingdom in the future. Cathy had to go, I stayed at the same spot and a long-time friend, Steve, parked next to me and we talked for over an hour about the last few years of my life and the myriad of ways the Lord has walked with me and been faithful.
Both of my friends illustrated what I believe we are called to do as Christian community -- encourage one another (hey, isn't that in Hebrews somewhere?), dream with each other, testify to God's work in our lives.
My cup overflows with godly friends!
Monday
Prayers for Ira
If you haven't met Ira Hays, you need to. He's a scrappy little, chubby-faced punkin'. This picture was taken in November. He and his dad, Joe Hays were hanging out, blogging. Ira was born with health problems that I don't fully understand, but I know the little guy has spent most of his 10 months -- he's 10 months old tomorrow, the 21st -- in the hospital on oxygen. He went back in the hospital this last time on Christmas Eve. He has been intubated and is basically (as I understand it) kept in a medical coma so that he will remain intubated. He has struggled with physical addiction to his medications, including violent tremors as the doctors try to wean him off of the medications. His mom, Laura, and dad haven't held him since Christmas Eve.
Try to imagine that. Your child. Your flesh and blood. A baby. A tiny baby. In the most difficult situation you could imagine. You watch, you stroke, you love, you cry, but you can't hold him.
Ira has a big test this week. We all need to join together in fervent prayer that he PASS! Ira will be extubated (sp?) this week to see if he can do with a bi-pap or c-pap (I have no idea what that is -- some form of oxygen delivery system, I assume the tubes in the nose). If he can't he will have a tracheostomy. Please pray specifically that Ira proves, again, what a fighter he is and that he can do without another surgery -- and, more importantly, that he can rest in his mom
and dad's arms.
Joe and Laura also have a beautiful daughter, Sophia, who is bound to think this is just as stinky and unfair as the rest of us do. Please pause a moment to pray for the whole Hays family and the church family that is their support system right now.
Saturday
Can You Relate?
Although some of our blog-conversation this week has included (my) age and it's signs on my face, (Another Truvy: "Time marches on, and if you're not careful, it marches right across your face.") I am not yet to the Mighty M that comes into a woman's life. Not naming any names, but I have friends that are cruising right through it. I thought all of you may enjoy this:
(published in this month's Reader's Digest)
Asked on NPR how she went from writing romance novels to mysteries, author Janet Evanovich answered, "I hit menopause and began to have more thoughts of murder than romance."
(published in this month's Reader's Digest)
Asked on NPR how she went from writing romance novels to mysteries, author Janet Evanovich answered, "I hit menopause and began to have more thoughts of murder than romance."
Friday
Maxine Riley
November 18, 1916- August 2, 1994
Just a little more insight into my grandmother, Maxine. Maxine died on my friend, Roxanne's, birthday. Three years later, my Riley made his way into the world on what would have been her 81st birthday. That is so precious to me. The following is a portion of what was read at her funeral. Just so you can get a glimpse of Maxine.
written by Don Glover, delivered at Maxine's funeral
No word, including this one, can do justice to Maxine Riley, who was a remarkable woman by any standards. Not that her name was bandied about in the news or flashed on to a silver screen; not that she captured the imagination of a generation in the grand manner, say, of an Eleanor Roosevelt or a Margaret Thatcher. No, not that.
From a small town in Oklahoma, our Maxine married a Max, also from a small town in Oklahoma. They had a son, whom they named Max and called Mike; and of him they were extremely proud. This Maxine loved God, her household, the church, and a host of others throughout the community.
And we all loved Maxine. We also liked her. For a hundred reasons, not least because she was wonderfully candid. She would say things you wanted to say but couldn't -- or wouldn't. Her quick tongue occasionally got her into light trouble, but it was part of her charm. Her resonant voice was melodious, rhythmic, dramatic. She had a way of speaking that captured your attention, made you smile, and not infrequently had you laughing. Not only could Maxine Riley "rejoice with those who rejoice," she could also "weep with those who weep."
There were the small touches: For two generations she was known at the Forsythe Avenue Church of Christ as the "Gum Lady". Kids flocked to her side for the goodies that rose from her magic purse.
She was an inveterate letter writer. Many of us, at one time or another, in sickness, in discouragement, in success, and sometimes for no immediately obvious reason, have received from Maxine a handwritten note; a message written in ink perfumed with love, a treasure house of beautiful words, not soon forgotten.
In a world in which good taste is disappearing, Maxine was the epitome of class: Not alone in her dress, which was impeccable; Not alone in the way she wore her hair, with every strand in it's ordained place; Not alone in that elusive thing called "style" which she elegantly projected. No, she was a classy woman because she had a heart. A good, generous, godly heart.
Her beauty, like that of the godly woman of Proverbs 31, reflected her respect for the Lord and his ways. Pound for delicate pound she had few if any rivals. It was our gift to know her, to be moved by her, to have our world enriched by hers. Memories flood our souls. Were there time, each of us could tell his own story of our dear sister and friend.
Just a little more insight into my grandmother, Maxine. Maxine died on my friend, Roxanne's, birthday. Three years later, my Riley made his way into the world on what would have been her 81st birthday. That is so precious to me. The following is a portion of what was read at her funeral. Just so you can get a glimpse of Maxine.
written by Don Glover, delivered at Maxine's funeral
No word, including this one, can do justice to Maxine Riley, who was a remarkable woman by any standards. Not that her name was bandied about in the news or flashed on to a silver screen; not that she captured the imagination of a generation in the grand manner, say, of an Eleanor Roosevelt or a Margaret Thatcher. No, not that.
From a small town in Oklahoma, our Maxine married a Max, also from a small town in Oklahoma. They had a son, whom they named Max and called Mike; and of him they were extremely proud. This Maxine loved God, her household, the church, and a host of others throughout the community.
And we all loved Maxine. We also liked her. For a hundred reasons, not least because she was wonderfully candid. She would say things you wanted to say but couldn't -- or wouldn't. Her quick tongue occasionally got her into light trouble, but it was part of her charm. Her resonant voice was melodious, rhythmic, dramatic. She had a way of speaking that captured your attention, made you smile, and not infrequently had you laughing. Not only could Maxine Riley "rejoice with those who rejoice," she could also "weep with those who weep."
There were the small touches: For two generations she was known at the Forsythe Avenue Church of Christ as the "Gum Lady". Kids flocked to her side for the goodies that rose from her magic purse.
She was an inveterate letter writer. Many of us, at one time or another, in sickness, in discouragement, in success, and sometimes for no immediately obvious reason, have received from Maxine a handwritten note; a message written in ink perfumed with love, a treasure house of beautiful words, not soon forgotten.
In a world in which good taste is disappearing, Maxine was the epitome of class: Not alone in her dress, which was impeccable; Not alone in the way she wore her hair, with every strand in it's ordained place; Not alone in that elusive thing called "style" which she elegantly projected. No, she was a classy woman because she had a heart. A good, generous, godly heart.
Her beauty, like that of the godly woman of Proverbs 31, reflected her respect for the Lord and his ways. Pound for delicate pound she had few if any rivals. It was our gift to know her, to be moved by her, to have our world enriched by hers. Memories flood our souls. Were there time, each of us could tell his own story of our dear sister and friend.
Thursday
Maxine
I commented on Mike Cope's blog today about a philosophy my late grandmother, Maxine Riley, had in life: "If only one of us can be happy, it may as well be me."
Definitely not your typical grandmother-ly advice. But Maxine Riley was not your typical grandmother.
Later today, my sister-in-law, who I don't believe ever met my grandmother, emailed me saying that she and my brother were having a conversation that included Maxine and Ve wanted to know my perception of my grandmother as compared with my brother's.
Maxine seems to be on everyone's mind today!
And, yes, that is precisely what I called her -- and, yes, she knew that and, no, it didn't seem to bother her. It came about as a joke about my poor grandfather, Max (yes, those were both of their real names -- Max and Maxine). Max lived and breathed to take care of my grandmother and make her life more comfortable. And I believe there were moments that she appreciated it. But frequently she would say, "Oh, Maaaax. . ." a phrase that typing cannot do justice to her southern, gravelly drawl, that included a hint of a whine. So eventually my Poppa became Max to me. So, naturally, my Nonna became Maxine.
In reading over this, I guess Maxine brings to mind the rough, old woman on the Hallmark cards. Those actually aren't too far off of my grandmother's philosophy in life, but Maxine would not have been caught dead in sweatpants or a t-shirt.
Later I will post what was beautifully spoken at her funeral. Don Glover, who preached at the church where I grew up for 30+ years, captured the things we all loved about Maxine.
A few of the things that I suppose I have inherited from Maxine:
Definitely not your typical grandmother-ly advice. But Maxine Riley was not your typical grandmother.
Later today, my sister-in-law, who I don't believe ever met my grandmother, emailed me saying that she and my brother were having a conversation that included Maxine and Ve wanted to know my perception of my grandmother as compared with my brother's.
Maxine seems to be on everyone's mind today!
And, yes, that is precisely what I called her -- and, yes, she knew that and, no, it didn't seem to bother her. It came about as a joke about my poor grandfather, Max (yes, those were both of their real names -- Max and Maxine). Max lived and breathed to take care of my grandmother and make her life more comfortable. And I believe there were moments that she appreciated it. But frequently she would say, "Oh, Maaaax. . ." a phrase that typing cannot do justice to her southern, gravelly drawl, that included a hint of a whine. So eventually my Poppa became Max to me. So, naturally, my Nonna became Maxine.
In reading over this, I guess Maxine brings to mind the rough, old woman on the Hallmark cards. Those actually aren't too far off of my grandmother's philosophy in life, but Maxine would not have been caught dead in sweatpants or a t-shirt.
Later I will post what was beautifully spoken at her funeral. Don Glover, who preached at the church where I grew up for 30+ years, captured the things we all loved about Maxine.
A few of the things that I suppose I have inherited from Maxine:
- Speak what is on your mind! Life is too short for dancing around it. My grandparents were definitely "the country club crowd" and I think Maxine's candidness was shocking and amusing to most of their friends there.
- Life is also entirely too short to be taken seriously. While Maxine (with her candid words) hurt my feelings on a few occasions, I mainly remember her giggle. She found humor in almost every situation. Me too, Maxine.
"It's Time"
That phrase -- "It's time" -- can mean so many different things.
"It's time to all gather in the car to go to church."
"It's time to get me to the hospital to have this baby!"
"It's time for me to leave this party so that I can go to bed."
I was fairly kind to my injured foot for several days, but I grew weary and impatient of the way it was affecting my life. So I told my foot, "it's time". "It's time for you to be through being injured. It's time for you to start behaving like a healthy foot. It's time to start serving me the way I need you to serve me." My foot disagreed.
I thought of the way we do that to ourselves, and occasionally others, when we are emotionally injured. "It's time to quit grieving." "You have got to get past that horrible thing that happened to you." "It's time to move on." "It's time to act as if nothing happened."
I love that we are reminded again and again that the Lord's concept of time is not at all our concept of time. I guess when You were before time ever began and will be at the end of time, a few days of hobbling on crutches, or a few months of nursing a broken heart, or a few years of grieving a loss is not long at all.
Praying to have a 'Kingdom view' of time, and much patience until I do.
"It's time to all gather in the car to go to church."
"It's time to get me to the hospital to have this baby!"
"It's time for me to leave this party so that I can go to bed."
I was fairly kind to my injured foot for several days, but I grew weary and impatient of the way it was affecting my life. So I told my foot, "it's time". "It's time for you to be through being injured. It's time for you to start behaving like a healthy foot. It's time to start serving me the way I need you to serve me." My foot disagreed.
I thought of the way we do that to ourselves, and occasionally others, when we are emotionally injured. "It's time to quit grieving." "You have got to get past that horrible thing that happened to you." "It's time to move on." "It's time to act as if nothing happened."
I love that we are reminded again and again that the Lord's concept of time is not at all our concept of time. I guess when You were before time ever began and will be at the end of time, a few days of hobbling on crutches, or a few months of nursing a broken heart, or a few years of grieving a loss is not long at all.
Praying to have a 'Kingdom view' of time, and much patience until I do.
Picture Votes
As a few of you have noticed, I changed my profile pic. I have had some positive comments, some requests to change back to the other one. What do you think? Feel free to simply tell me which picture you prefer. I don't need reasons, especially if they include the words crow's feet, old, or fat.
Sunday
The Scrubbing Fairies
As I mentioned here, I can give my family a good lecture like nobody's business. One of the most frequent is regarding the dishwasher:
Don't even get me started on "but why wash your plate before you put it in the dishwasher" lecture. If my children were capable of thoroughly scraping a plate, we wouldn't have to rinse. But they aren't, or refuse to, so rinsing is SO necessary.
Troy is an awesome dad and husband -- but doesn't back me up too much on this one. "I don't know what she's talking about kids; I've seen those fairies. They like washing your dishes." Granted, Scrubbing Fairies would be glorious, and if you have any, I'll hire them. Until then, we're rinsing.
At one point I was folding clothes in the laundry room, just off the kitchen and heard the clanking of dishes, while a child chanted, "I believe! I believe!"
"What do you believe?"
Child appears at laundry room door looking sheepish: "Oh. I didn't know you were there."
"What do you believe?"
"In the scrubbing fairies."
Maybe Troy has taught them that the chant enables the fairies to work.
Tonight, after an equal number of dishes came out of the dishwasher dirty as came out clean, I cleaned out the interior of the dishwasher -- wiped out the door, cleaned out the spray arm, all kinds of fun. There will be a new lecture on Scrubbing Fairies tonight.
Things I learned:
It doesn't matter if you believe in Scrubbing Fairies or not -- we don't
have them! There are no magic fairies that come along and scrub the
massive chunks of food off of your plates after you pile them in the dishwasher
that way! The fairies are not even able to lift a plate that you have
smashed against another plate! You're going to have to rinse your plate
before you put it in the dishwasher!
Don't even get me started on "but why wash your plate before you put it in the dishwasher" lecture. If my children were capable of thoroughly scraping a plate, we wouldn't have to rinse. But they aren't, or refuse to, so rinsing is SO necessary.
Troy is an awesome dad and husband -- but doesn't back me up too much on this one. "I don't know what she's talking about kids; I've seen those fairies. They like washing your dishes." Granted, Scrubbing Fairies would be glorious, and if you have any, I'll hire them. Until then, we're rinsing.
At one point I was folding clothes in the laundry room, just off the kitchen and heard the clanking of dishes, while a child chanted, "I believe! I believe!"
"What do you believe?"
Child appears at laundry room door looking sheepish: "Oh. I didn't know you were there."
"What do you believe?"
"In the scrubbing fairies."
Maybe Troy has taught them that the chant enables the fairies to work.
Tonight, after an equal number of dishes came out of the dishwasher dirty as came out clean, I cleaned out the interior of the dishwasher -- wiped out the door, cleaned out the spray arm, all kinds of fun. There will be a new lecture on Scrubbing Fairies tonight.
Things I learned:
- It's relatively easy to take off a dishwasher spray arm -- but your owner's manual won't tell you that.
- Band-Aids do not travel easily through a dishwasher spray arm.
- Bathroom tweezers are barely strong enough to pull a band-aid through the jet of a spray arm.
Someone should warn my family that a lecture is brewing. . .
Saturday
What's a Gal to Do?
Okay, still completely hypothetically speaking, let's imagine that someone who exercises in some form or fashion 5-7 days a week gets injured. Injured bad. Let's just say this someone needs that exercise for brain-clearing purposes more than anything else. Now that it's been 4 days since any exercise -- other than using crutches to get into Target -- the acid of grouchiness is piling up in her brain. I think she should start with a bubble bath, then maybe a jog in the gym's pool. If that doesn't work she may have to hit the hard stuff -- Blue Bell. Anyone have any better ideas?
Friday
It's a New Blog!
Okay, it's not really -- it will still be written by moi', and still contain fascinating stories of injuries I sustain while walking out to pick up the newspaper in the morning, but I thought "The Cleft of the Rock" needed a new look. Since I NEVER re-arrange furniture or change my hairstyle, this is as close as I get to being adventurous. Boy, that speaks volumes about me doesn't it. Now some of you can't decide whether to be sadder for me because I am unable to successfully walk down my hallway or because changing my blog template constitutes big adventure for me.
Yes, I know how to fix the "google news" and "edit-me" links to the right -- but I'm not going to right now. I'll just see who it makes cuckoo while I'm deciding who/what to link to.
Yes, I know how to fix the "google news" and "edit-me" links to the right -- but I'm not going to right now. I'll just see who it makes cuckoo while I'm deciding who/what to link to.
Thursday
Observations on Life
Valentine's Inc.: Miss Cutie has purchased about 3 more Valentine's for Heart-throb. Heart-throb has only purchased one Valentine this week -- for Miss Cutie!! Look out, 4th Grade!
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Okay, hypothetically speaking of course, say you are walking down your own hall in your house and basically fall off of your foot, spraining your ankle horribly. Which story would you go with:
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Okay, hypothetically speaking of course, say you are walking down your own hall in your house and basically fall off of your foot, spraining your ankle horribly. Which story would you go with:
- I was trying to get my 5k time under 15:00 -- in the last 250 yards, there was a pothole.
- There was a truck with no brakes careening toward a little girl and her puppy. I pushed them to safety but hurt my ankle in the process.
- I was showing the kids the perfect trampoline dismount.
- Chuck Norris challenged me to a kick-boxing competition.
Please vote!
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Memo to gentleman in Lifeway this morning: She seemed really kind, but I don't think the cashier at a Christian book store is the best person to go to for relationship advice.
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Spend 48 hours hobbling around town on crutches. It will restore your faith in human kindness.
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Yesterday I had opportunity to use a movie quote that I think about a lot. From When Harry Met Sally, a movie I've seen a bajillion times. At the beginning of the movie, Harry has all sorts of philosophies about men and women and relationships -- none of them very positive. At one point, Sally turns to him and says, "Its amazing. You look like a normal person but actually you are the angel of death."
It's a quote for all occasions! And a half-dozen people that read this are going to think I'm referring to them. Cool, huh?
Wednesday
Fantastic Friday
A few weeks ago was "Fantastic Friday" at the kids' school (also an Austin Elementary long-standing tradition). It's '50's day, but oh, so much more. As you can see, my kids go to one of those schools -- that doesn't do anything half-way. . .
The decorations are amazing -- moms (I NEVER sign up for this committee!) decorate the cafeteria. It's really cute. Way in the back -- just past Riley's nose -- you can see one of the precious "cherry floats" made of small white trash cans, with pink balloons bubbling out of the top.
This is the kids' principal, Mrs. Scarbrough. She is wearing her cheerleading jumper from Cooper High School from when she was a cheerleader in the mid-'60's. We hate her. (I don't actually hate her -- another Steel Magnolias quote and reference!) We actually adore her. She's the best (and a good sport, as you can tell).
This is Riley and Jordan "cutting a rug". This picture reveals that Riley, like Ashley, REALLY gets into the dance part of '50's day. You'll also notice that Riley is in a minority of 2nd grade boys who seems to enjoy it. The dance is on the stage in the cafeteria. It's really cute.
(from left) Whitney, Kara, and Ashley are "old pros" at Fantastic Friday. This is the first year that Ashley wanted a poodle skirt! Progress! I've noticed that in 4th grade, there's much more giggling, planning, and "intentionality" (my favorite word) about who you will dance with. I don't even want to know what 5th grade is like!
I have known that Ashley is tall for her grade. I hope she stays tall, but I was one of the tallest in my 5th grade class. 5'1" -- where I stayed until I was 16 and got all the way up to 5'3". Ashley is 4'11". Here, she's dancing with (I think his name is Josh) who is about 4'6". They were having a great time.
Ashley's class for the picture. And a grand time was had by all.
Tuesday
Am I The Only One?
I've never been accused of being stingy with my tears.
"I have a very strict policy that no one cries alone in my presence." (variation on Truvy from Steel Magnolias)
Lately, for whatever reason, I'm even more of an emotional train wreck than usual. But, as a standard rule, I generally cry over EVERY OnStar radio commercial I hear: the kid whose mom was in a diabetic coma, the lady who just was in a wreck, but no one was hurt, but she SOBBED thanking OnStar for being there for her. Soon, I will need OnStar because my vision was blurred from my tears when I ran into another car!
Is it just me?
"I have a very strict policy that no one cries alone in my presence." (variation on Truvy from Steel Magnolias)
Lately, for whatever reason, I'm even more of an emotional train wreck than usual. But, as a standard rule, I generally cry over EVERY OnStar radio commercial I hear: the kid whose mom was in a diabetic coma, the lady who just was in a wreck, but no one was hurt, but she SOBBED thanking OnStar for being there for her. Soon, I will need OnStar because my vision was blurred from my tears when I ran into another car!
Is it just me?
Saturday
Tagged
My blog-friend, Matt Elliot has tagged me. Please do not ask about my nick-name at the end of his post. I think it is more a reflection of Matt's warped sense of humor than anything about me.
This has made me look at basically how SMALL my world is currently!! Most of these I'm having to REALLY stretch to come up with four things.
Four Jobs I’ve Had:
1. Lifeguard at Twin Lakes "Country Club" (neighborhood pool) and Louisiana Lions Camp
2. Resource Teacher, then 2nd grade teacher at Lakewood Elementary
3. Substitute teacher for Abilene ISD
4. PALS coordinator for Big Brothers Big Sisters of West Central Texas
Four Movies I Could Watch Over and Over:
1. Steel Magnolias -- I really hate the part where I have to lay on the floor in fetal position and sob, but the trip home and laughs are worth it to me
2. City Slickers -- makes me laugh out loud
3. Sixteen Candles -- makes the horrible parts of high school seem funny
4. Monsters, Inc. -- just love it!
Four Books I Could Read Over and Over:
1. You've Gotta Keep Dancing -- Tim Hansel
2. Tender Mercy for a Mother's Soul -- Angela Thomas
3. The gospel of John. . . book of Daniel. . . Psalms. . . Philippians. . .lots more
4. Couplehood -- Paul Reiser
Four Places I’ve Lived:
I haven't even lived 4 places -- unless you count the ACU campus and Abilene as 2 separate places!:
1. Monroe, Louisiana
2. ACU
3. Temple, Texas
4. Abilene, Texas
Four TV Shows I Watch: This is so sad -- we've already established that I could really get into a sitcom in my day, but I truly can only come up with 2 shows that I watch on a regular basis (and one of them only because I can tolerate sitting through it with my husband, unlike some of his History Channel viewing):
1. Gilmore Girls
2. LOST!
3. Local News?
4. CSI -- if it's not too gross or socially deviant -- so, never a new one!
Four Places I’ve Been on Vacation:
1. Winter Park, Colorado
2. San Antonio, Texas
3. Disney World
4. Ouray, Colorado
Four Websites I Visit Daily:
1. ishape.com -- my personalized fitness plan!
2. myyahoo.com -- my personalized internet news (and comics!)
3. Mike Cope's blog (and usually cruise through too many blogs to list here)
4. The Online Parallel Bible -- WAY cool! Check it out!
Four Favorite Foods:
1. Diet Coke -- I know it's not an actual food, but I truly couldn't make it without my DC!!
2. popcorn -- movie theater popcorn is my favorite
3. an excellent fajita made on a fresh flour tortilla
4. peanut butter
Four Places I’d Like to Be Right Now:
1. any vacation get-away with my husband
2. coffee with friends (where I drink Diet Coke! :-)
3. snow-skiing -- anywhere with good powder
4. visiting either of my two remaining grandparents
Four Bloggers I’m Tagging: (so, you think that of the 4 people that read this blog, all of them HAVE a blog?):
1. Tammy
2. Denise
3. Anne
4. Byron
This has made me look at basically how SMALL my world is currently!! Most of these I'm having to REALLY stretch to come up with four things.
Four Jobs I’ve Had:
1. Lifeguard at Twin Lakes "Country Club" (neighborhood pool) and Louisiana Lions Camp
2. Resource Teacher, then 2nd grade teacher at Lakewood Elementary
3. Substitute teacher for Abilene ISD
4. PALS coordinator for Big Brothers Big Sisters of West Central Texas
Four Movies I Could Watch Over and Over:
1. Steel Magnolias -- I really hate the part where I have to lay on the floor in fetal position and sob, but the trip home and laughs are worth it to me
2. City Slickers -- makes me laugh out loud
3. Sixteen Candles -- makes the horrible parts of high school seem funny
4. Monsters, Inc. -- just love it!
Four Books I Could Read Over and Over:
1. You've Gotta Keep Dancing -- Tim Hansel
2. Tender Mercy for a Mother's Soul -- Angela Thomas
3. The gospel of John. . . book of Daniel. . . Psalms. . . Philippians. . .lots more
4. Couplehood -- Paul Reiser
Four Places I’ve Lived:
I haven't even lived 4 places -- unless you count the ACU campus and Abilene as 2 separate places!:
1. Monroe, Louisiana
2. ACU
3. Temple, Texas
4. Abilene, Texas
Four TV Shows I Watch: This is so sad -- we've already established that I could really get into a sitcom in my day, but I truly can only come up with 2 shows that I watch on a regular basis (and one of them only because I can tolerate sitting through it with my husband, unlike some of his History Channel viewing):
1. Gilmore Girls
2. LOST!
3. Local News?
4. CSI -- if it's not too gross or socially deviant -- so, never a new one!
Four Places I’ve Been on Vacation:
1. Winter Park, Colorado
2. San Antonio, Texas
3. Disney World
4. Ouray, Colorado
Four Websites I Visit Daily:
1. ishape.com -- my personalized fitness plan!
2. myyahoo.com -- my personalized internet news (and comics!)
3. Mike Cope's blog (and usually cruise through too many blogs to list here)
4. The Online Parallel Bible -- WAY cool! Check it out!
Four Favorite Foods:
1. Diet Coke -- I know it's not an actual food, but I truly couldn't make it without my DC!!
2. popcorn -- movie theater popcorn is my favorite
3. an excellent fajita made on a fresh flour tortilla
4. peanut butter
Four Places I’d Like to Be Right Now:
1. any vacation get-away with my husband
2. coffee with friends (where I drink Diet Coke! :-)
3. snow-skiing -- anywhere with good powder
4. visiting either of my two remaining grandparents
Four Bloggers I’m Tagging: (so, you think that of the 4 people that read this blog, all of them HAVE a blog?):
1. Tammy
2. Denise
3. Anne
4. Byron
Friday
Valentine's, Inc.
If any of your children have journeyed through elementary school at Austin Elementary, you may have experienced Valentine's, Inc. Mrs. Moser's 2nd grade class does an economics unit that begins by them taking out a loan (I think just from the principal -- I worked at a school where they took out a loan from the bank and had to bring their teddy bears as collateral! YIKES!). The loan is so they can open a business: "Valentine's, Inc."
Starting the first of February the class takes turns before and after school taking orders from children. For $.25 they can purchase a construction-paper, die-cut heart that has Happy Valentine's Day stamped on it with 2 tootsie rolls attached (they used to have dum-dum suckers attached until the state of Texas banned those in school, but deemed tootsie rolls and chocolate health food). On Valentine's Day, Mrs. Moser's precious punkin's make the rounds at school delivering the Valentine wishes.
They use the proceeds from the sales to first of all, of course, pay back the loan, but then they have a class pizza party, buy t-shirts to tie-dye to wear at the end of the year, and donate a few books to the library. It's a pretty big money-maker, as you can tell!
Besides Riley's after-school shifts, I agreed that he and I could take the morning shift at one end of the school. So at about 7:55, he and I set up shop outside of the cafeteria waiting for the "big kids" to leave the cafeteria on the way to class.
It has been a most fascinating study in human nature, as well as male/female relationships. This scenario happened Wednesday morning:
Heart-throb (I was not aware this was his name until later) hands me a dollar. He would like to order one for his mom, grandma, grandpa, and aunt (they can order them for family members -- they are just delivered to the kid and the kid hand delivers it later). I didn't realize until later that Miss Cutie and Friend were lurking far behind heart-throb with many giggles. Heart-throb finishes his order and Miss Cutie and Friend watch him walk away and make sure he is most definitely gone.
Miss Cutie approaches and would like to order one for . . . um, let me think,. . . oh, I guess (very quiet whisper) "Heart-throb" while friend is scoping out the hall behind her making sure Heart-throb is, in fact, really gone. I thought two things at this point: 1)Miss Cutie has very good taste. Not only is Heart-throb a cutie, he's a REAL nice kid. Good for her. 2)Heart-throb has NO clue the giggling and gesture of love being poured out on him.
All of the ordering got done and the giggle-fest meandered on down the hall. In a moment, I look up and here comes Heart-throb! "Oh!" I'm thinking, "he must have remembered he should get one for some sweet little girl, or maybe Friend told him he BETTER get one for Miss Cutie." So, sweet Heart-throb walks up to the desk, smiling a huge smile: "I forgot to get one for my teachers!"
The drama of Valentine's Day is just beginning!
Thursday update: I received 4 more orders for Valentine's to be delivered to Heart-throb. Heart-throb ordered one for his teacher from last year (who Ashley had for math and in my most diplomatic manner I will say she is the least-nice teacher I have ever encountered).
Starting the first of February the class takes turns before and after school taking orders from children. For $.25 they can purchase a construction-paper, die-cut heart that has Happy Valentine's Day stamped on it with 2 tootsie rolls attached (they used to have dum-dum suckers attached until the state of Texas banned those in school, but deemed tootsie rolls and chocolate health food). On Valentine's Day, Mrs. Moser's precious punkin's make the rounds at school delivering the Valentine wishes.
They use the proceeds from the sales to first of all, of course, pay back the loan, but then they have a class pizza party, buy t-shirts to tie-dye to wear at the end of the year, and donate a few books to the library. It's a pretty big money-maker, as you can tell!
Besides Riley's after-school shifts, I agreed that he and I could take the morning shift at one end of the school. So at about 7:55, he and I set up shop outside of the cafeteria waiting for the "big kids" to leave the cafeteria on the way to class.
It has been a most fascinating study in human nature, as well as male/female relationships. This scenario happened Wednesday morning:
Heart-throb (I was not aware this was his name until later) hands me a dollar. He would like to order one for his mom, grandma, grandpa, and aunt (they can order them for family members -- they are just delivered to the kid and the kid hand delivers it later). I didn't realize until later that Miss Cutie and Friend were lurking far behind heart-throb with many giggles. Heart-throb finishes his order and Miss Cutie and Friend watch him walk away and make sure he is most definitely gone.
Miss Cutie approaches and would like to order one for . . . um, let me think,. . . oh, I guess (very quiet whisper) "Heart-throb" while friend is scoping out the hall behind her making sure Heart-throb is, in fact, really gone. I thought two things at this point: 1)Miss Cutie has very good taste. Not only is Heart-throb a cutie, he's a REAL nice kid. Good for her. 2)Heart-throb has NO clue the giggling and gesture of love being poured out on him.
All of the ordering got done and the giggle-fest meandered on down the hall. In a moment, I look up and here comes Heart-throb! "Oh!" I'm thinking, "he must have remembered he should get one for some sweet little girl, or maybe Friend told him he BETTER get one for Miss Cutie." So, sweet Heart-throb walks up to the desk, smiling a huge smile: "I forgot to get one for my teachers!"
The drama of Valentine's Day is just beginning!
Thursday update: I received 4 more orders for Valentine's to be delivered to Heart-throb. Heart-throb ordered one for his teacher from last year (who Ashley had for math and in my most diplomatic manner I will say she is the least-nice teacher I have ever encountered).
Thursday
Victory In Jesus
I confess that a phrase I hear occasionally "God gave me a word" makes me a bit uncomfortable. I don't know why. Perhaps it just suggests an intimacy/ connection that I frequently feel I'm missing. But I have no other way to explain the scripture that has caught my attention this week. I told you that on Tuesday I realized the only thing missing from my wonderful life was joy. Wednesday morning I read a verse I'm sure I've read dozens of times before, but it is so precious to me:
But thanks be to God, who always leads us in triumphal procession in Christ and through us spreads everywhere the fragrance of the knowledge of him. 2 Corinthians 2:14
Okay, we are being led in "triumphal procession". Sarah's paraphrase is: God is leading us in a parade!! ALWAYS it says!! We're always in a God-led-parade. Can you even imagine? The funny thing is that I shared this with several friends last night. One friend evidently envisioned me like this:
But thanks be to God, who always leads us in triumphal procession in Christ and through us spreads everywhere the fragrance of the knowledge of him. 2 Corinthians 2:14
Okay, we are being led in "triumphal procession". Sarah's paraphrase is: God is leading us in a parade!! ALWAYS it says!! We're always in a God-led-parade. Can you even imagine? The funny thing is that I shared this with several friends last night. One friend evidently envisioned me like this:
While I was picturing something more like this for myself:
At any rate, how can you not be joyful if you are in "triumphal procession" that is being led by God? What are we missing? And while we're in triumphal procession, God spreads the "fragrance of the knowledge of Him" through us. Do you have the fragrance of the knowledge of Him? What does it smell like to truly know God? Well, the next two verses in 2 Corinthians 2 tell us it depends on who you are:
For we are to God the aroma of Christ among those who are being saved and those who are perishing. To the one we are the smell of death; to the other, the fragrance of life.
So, while Victory In Jesus truly parallels this verse, I may also be singing "I Love a Parade"!
Tuesday
Sharing the Torture
After yesterday's post about the sitcom 'Alice', this song has been forever in my head. Sing along!:
Early to rise, early to bed.
In and between I cooked and cleaned and went out of my head.
Going through life with blinders on, it's tough to see.
I had to get up, get out from under and look for me.
There's a new girl in town and she's looking good.
There's a fresh freckled face, in the neighborhoood.
There's a new girl in town, with a brand new style.
She was just passing through, but if things work out she's gonna stay awhile....ba ba bum bum bummmm
Then today I started thinking about all of the sitcoms I used to be addicted to and could almost sing all of the theme song to:
The Jeffersons
Laverne and Shirley (you've gotta love a good "Schlemiel, Schlamozzle")
Facts of Life
If I think of any others I will also cause them to play ceaselessly inside your head.
Early to rise, early to bed.
In and between I cooked and cleaned and went out of my head.
Going through life with blinders on, it's tough to see.
I had to get up, get out from under and look for me.
There's a new girl in town and she's looking good.
There's a fresh freckled face, in the neighborhoood.
There's a new girl in town, with a brand new style.
She was just passing through, but if things work out she's gonna stay awhile....ba ba bum bum bummmm
Then today I started thinking about all of the sitcoms I used to be addicted to and could almost sing all of the theme song to:
The Jeffersons
Laverne and Shirley (you've gotta love a good "Schlemiel, Schlamozzle")
Facts of Life
If I think of any others I will also cause them to play ceaselessly inside your head.
My Little Voice
As you can probably tell from most of this blog, I have a tendency to WAY over-analyze any situation. I'm pretty good at sucking the joy out of anything just by thinking it TO DEATH!
Does anyone remember the sitcom "Alice"? Okay, I'm about to confess to you what an absolute TV JUNKIE I was (this is why I limit my kids' TV so much -- my brain is STUFFED with stupid TV trivia). I LOVED "Alice". And, Google has found for me that you can find anything you EVER wanted to know about "Alice" here. I remember that when Diane Ladd joined the cast her character's name was Belle. Belle used to talk about her conversations with herself: "So my little voice said, 'Self' -- that's what my little voice calls me is 'Self' -- . . ." I think it may have actually called her "Lulla-belle" or some other horrific version of "Belle".
I thought of Belle today, because myself had to have a very stern talk to myself!
We've already established that I'm busy -- nutty, crazy busy. So this morning I got everyone to school early so that I could help Riley's class sell Valentine's before school, then I hustled to the gym where I had to cut my work-out short so that I could get to Ladies Class to teach at church. I hurried away from there to make a return and then pick up one grocery item to use for dinner. I scurried home to throw together dinner and Troy was actually here so we ate lunch together. I finally made it in to work! The WHOLE time I was doing all of these things, I'm trying to figure out how to cut short what I'm doing so that I can get to the next thing. As you might imagine, my attitude continued to downward spiral.
This is where the over-analyzation came in. It's also where I proceeded to have a stern conversation with myself:
Whiny self: This is too much! I am doing too much! When can I get a break? Who lives like this. Who can I blame for all of this?
Rational self: Good question: Who can you blame? Who exactly signed you up for all of these things? When are you going to stop doing so much?
Whiny self: Well I signed myself up -- good point. And I don't plan to drop any of it -- you and I have already discussed this! There's nothing that I want to drop, because I enjoy all of those things.
This is where myself got just a little testy with myself. I think she actually yelled:
WELL, THEN ACT LIKE YOU ENJOY THEM!!!!!!!!!!!
Truly a revelation to me.
I sat next to one of my precious Valentine's while listening to precious children ask for expressions of their love to go to their moms, dads, and friends -- and I was only worried about how long it was taking. I visited with a dear friend on the treadmill at the gym -- and was stressed out about not getting all of my weight-lifting in. My precious husband was hoping I could spend 7 minutes eating lunch with him -- and I was only worried about not being at work. I can honestly say that I had no grinch or worry or stress over teaching Ladies Class -- and I truly believe it was because of the confessional prayer I led before I ever started teaching. "Lord, your word is not meant to be rushed through, but savored and treasured." Amen!
So, I had to shake myself by the shoulders earlier today. Yes, this crazy nutty life is the one that I signed up for. It's pretty much exactly the way it should be. And myself has reminded myself that now all that's left is for me to put my happy face on about it!
Does anyone remember the sitcom "Alice"? Okay, I'm about to confess to you what an absolute TV JUNKIE I was (this is why I limit my kids' TV so much -- my brain is STUFFED with stupid TV trivia). I LOVED "Alice". And, Google has found for me that you can find anything you EVER wanted to know about "Alice" here. I remember that when Diane Ladd joined the cast her character's name was Belle. Belle used to talk about her conversations with herself: "So my little voice said, 'Self' -- that's what my little voice calls me is 'Self' -- . . ." I think it may have actually called her "Lulla-belle" or some other horrific version of "Belle".
I thought of Belle today, because myself had to have a very stern talk to myself!
We've already established that I'm busy -- nutty, crazy busy. So this morning I got everyone to school early so that I could help Riley's class sell Valentine's before school, then I hustled to the gym where I had to cut my work-out short so that I could get to Ladies Class to teach at church. I hurried away from there to make a return and then pick up one grocery item to use for dinner. I scurried home to throw together dinner and Troy was actually here so we ate lunch together. I finally made it in to work! The WHOLE time I was doing all of these things, I'm trying to figure out how to cut short what I'm doing so that I can get to the next thing. As you might imagine, my attitude continued to downward spiral.
This is where the over-analyzation came in. It's also where I proceeded to have a stern conversation with myself:
Whiny self: This is too much! I am doing too much! When can I get a break? Who lives like this. Who can I blame for all of this?
Rational self: Good question: Who can you blame? Who exactly signed you up for all of these things? When are you going to stop doing so much?
Whiny self: Well I signed myself up -- good point. And I don't plan to drop any of it -- you and I have already discussed this! There's nothing that I want to drop, because I enjoy all of those things.
This is where myself got just a little testy with myself. I think she actually yelled:
WELL, THEN ACT LIKE YOU ENJOY THEM!!!!!!!!!!!
Truly a revelation to me.
I sat next to one of my precious Valentine's while listening to precious children ask for expressions of their love to go to their moms, dads, and friends -- and I was only worried about how long it was taking. I visited with a dear friend on the treadmill at the gym -- and was stressed out about not getting all of my weight-lifting in. My precious husband was hoping I could spend 7 minutes eating lunch with him -- and I was only worried about not being at work. I can honestly say that I had no grinch or worry or stress over teaching Ladies Class -- and I truly believe it was because of the confessional prayer I led before I ever started teaching. "Lord, your word is not meant to be rushed through, but savored and treasured." Amen!
So, I had to shake myself by the shoulders earlier today. Yes, this crazy nutty life is the one that I signed up for. It's pretty much exactly the way it should be. And myself has reminded myself that now all that's left is for me to put my happy face on about it!
Sunday
I've Stooped
Yes, I've been the haughty SAHM (stay-at-home-mom). I laugh at the tube of cookie dough -- how hard is it to throw together some flour, sugar, and eggs? But I can certainly appreciate the need for convenience. But when they came out with the "pre-separated" dough? Like it's REALLY that hard to scoop it out of the tube with a spoon? Give me a break!
But -- uh, oh! Look what's on the shelves now! Pre-cut-out cookie dough in cute seasonal themes (currently Valentine's). Yes, my family just scarfed down $2.59 worth of cute (but not super-tasty) cookies in heart shapes. I feel the most guilty that I actually paid that much for so little, that wasn't very good anyway. Okay, they were hot chocolate chip cookies -- they weren't exactly BAD, either. I try to look at it (by rationalizing) that that's about how much a bag of chocolate chips would have cost, but would have made WAY more, which no one in this family needs. So, not only was I paying for some festive holiday shaped cookies for my family, but I was paying to not have leftovers for the rest of the week. How's that for rationalization?
But -- uh, oh! Look what's on the shelves now! Pre-cut-out cookie dough in cute seasonal themes (currently Valentine's). Yes, my family just scarfed down $2.59 worth of cute (but not super-tasty) cookies in heart shapes. I feel the most guilty that I actually paid that much for so little, that wasn't very good anyway. Okay, they were hot chocolate chip cookies -- they weren't exactly BAD, either. I try to look at it (by rationalizing) that that's about how much a bag of chocolate chips would have cost, but would have made WAY more, which no one in this family needs. So, not only was I paying for some festive holiday shaped cookies for my family, but I was paying to not have leftovers for the rest of the week. How's that for rationalization?
Friday
Idle Threats
The list of what I do wrong as a parent is so long I won't even start in on it, but one thingI have done as a parent that has served me very well over the years: I don't make idle threats. I make sure that whatever consequence I promise for an action I am willing to carry out. Or, as in the recent case of the barefoot children in 42* weather, I assure them that the next time it happens the consequence will be very bad -- so bad I'm still deciding what it will be.
This serves me well because when I tell weepy, whiny child who is too cold/tired/grouchy to get out of bed that they WILL be in the car when it pulls out of the driveway at 8 a.m., with/without breakfast, with/without clothes on -- they're afraid to push me on it for fear I'll physically throw them in the car in their undies and make them go to school.
This week I had to utilize a serious threat such as these -- and my evil-mommy self half-way hoped I would have an opportunity to follow through. As I mentioned earlier, when Troy is out of town, the kids and I have a limited shelf-life of congeniality. If he leaves town during the school day on Monday, by Wednesday afternoon we're all pretty tired of each other. Wednesday afternoon was awful! I did my best to act as a concerned citizen and offer logical solutions when the neighbors of one driveway-chalk-city voted out their mayor and only citizen. I did my best to put out the fires of angry re-count demands.
I wish I remember now what was my breaking/boiling point. I'm pretty sure it had to do with the anger being directed at me when jobs were required before we could leave for our dinner out (we usually have one dinner out when Troy is out of town). A family meeting was called. Those are never good.
Unfortunately for my family -- well, anyone that has to listen to me rant, I guess -- I love words. I love using LOTS of them in heated situations and finding the precise one to convey my meaning. Along with this lingual fascination and skill, I am trained as an educator. All that to say, "Family Meeting" at my house generally means, "Mom has a speech".
And did I ever:
"Here's the deal. Neither of you deserve a dinner out tonight. Neither of you deserve for me to spend any extra money on you when we have perfectly good food in the pantry. But I do. I deserve for someone to say , "Yes, ma'am -- will that be all?" when I tell them what I want. I deserve for someone else to cook for me and bring me my food. And I'm going to get it. But if you two don't put your happy faces on and deal with life a little better, you will find your food in the pantry while I go pick up my dinner and eat it while I'm sitting in the car in the driveway so that I can have a little peace and quiet. Are we clear?"
And I would have -- and felt guilty for about 2.7 seconds.
The evening was most enjoyable from that point on!
This serves me well because when I tell weepy, whiny child who is too cold/tired/grouchy to get out of bed that they WILL be in the car when it pulls out of the driveway at 8 a.m., with/without breakfast, with/without clothes on -- they're afraid to push me on it for fear I'll physically throw them in the car in their undies and make them go to school.
This week I had to utilize a serious threat such as these -- and my evil-mommy self half-way hoped I would have an opportunity to follow through. As I mentioned earlier, when Troy is out of town, the kids and I have a limited shelf-life of congeniality. If he leaves town during the school day on Monday, by Wednesday afternoon we're all pretty tired of each other. Wednesday afternoon was awful! I did my best to act as a concerned citizen and offer logical solutions when the neighbors of one driveway-chalk-city voted out their mayor and only citizen. I did my best to put out the fires of angry re-count demands.
I wish I remember now what was my breaking/boiling point. I'm pretty sure it had to do with the anger being directed at me when jobs were required before we could leave for our dinner out (we usually have one dinner out when Troy is out of town). A family meeting was called. Those are never good.
Unfortunately for my family -- well, anyone that has to listen to me rant, I guess -- I love words. I love using LOTS of them in heated situations and finding the precise one to convey my meaning. Along with this lingual fascination and skill, I am trained as an educator. All that to say, "Family Meeting" at my house generally means, "Mom has a speech".
And did I ever:
"Here's the deal. Neither of you deserve a dinner out tonight. Neither of you deserve for me to spend any extra money on you when we have perfectly good food in the pantry. But I do. I deserve for someone to say , "Yes, ma'am -- will that be all?" when I tell them what I want. I deserve for someone else to cook for me and bring me my food. And I'm going to get it. But if you two don't put your happy faces on and deal with life a little better, you will find your food in the pantry while I go pick up my dinner and eat it while I'm sitting in the car in the driveway so that I can have a little peace and quiet. Are we clear?"
And I would have -- and felt guilty for about 2.7 seconds.
The evening was most enjoyable from that point on!
Here's Erma
I remember the first newspaper column I read on a regular basis -- it was Erma Bombeck. I found her hysterical -- even when I was in my early teens. Now that I'm a mother, I see that her humor is just to veil the thorn she'll use to prick your heart. We truly lost a genius when she died, but thankfully she has volumes of her material to remember her by.
I saw this piece a few weeks ago, but this week it has really hit home. Troy just got back in town yesterday from a 4-day trip. The kids and I usually manage just fine until that 3rd day. Later, I plan to let you know about the huge "Come-to-Jesus" meeting the kids and I had so that we would all survive one more day! Until then, enjoy some Erma wisdom (and notice that it was first published almost exactly 37 years ago -- her wisdom is timeless!):
NO MORE OATMEAL KISSES
Erma Bombeck
January 29, 1969
A young mother writes: "I know you've written before about the empty-nest syndrome, that lonely period after the children are grown and gone. Right now I'm up to my eyeballs in laundry and muddy boots. The baby is teething; the boys are fighting. My husband just called and said to eat without him, and I fell off my diet. Lay it on me again, will you?"
OK. One of these days, you'll shout, "Why don't you guys grow up and act your age!" And they will. Or, "You guys get outside and find yourselves something to do...and don't slam the door!" And they won't.
You'll straighten up the boys' bedroom neat and tidy: bumper stickers discarded, bedspread tucked and smooth, toys displayed on the shelves. Hangers in the closet. Animals caged. And you'll say out loud, "Now I want it to stay this way." And it will.
You'll prepare a perfect dinner with a salad that hasn't been picked to death and a cake with no finger traces in the icing, and you'll say, "Now, there's a meal for company." And you'll eat it alone.
You'll say, "I want complete privacy on the phone. No dancing around. No demolition crews. Silence! Do you hear?" And you'll have it.
No more plastic tablecloths stained with spaghetti. No more bedspreads to protect the sofa from damp bottoms. No more gates to stumble over at the top of the basement steps. No more clothespins under the sofa. No more playpens to arrange a room around.
No more anxious nights under a vaporizer tent. No more sand on the sheets or Popeye movies in the bathroom. No more iron-on patches, rubberbands for ponytails, tight boots or wet knotted shoestrings.
Imagine. A lipstick with a point on it. No babysitter for New Year's Eve. Washing only once a week. Seeing a steak that isn't ground. Having your teeth cleaned without a baby on your lap.
No PTA meetings. No car pools. No blaring radios. No one washing her hair at 11 o'clock at night. Having your own roll of Scotch tape.
Think about it. No more Christmas presents out of toothpicks and library paste. No more sloppy oatmeal kisses. No more tooth fairy. No giggles in the dark. No knees to heal, no responsibility.
Only a voice crying, "Why don't you grow up?" and the silence echoing, " I did."
I saw this piece a few weeks ago, but this week it has really hit home. Troy just got back in town yesterday from a 4-day trip. The kids and I usually manage just fine until that 3rd day. Later, I plan to let you know about the huge "Come-to-Jesus" meeting the kids and I had so that we would all survive one more day! Until then, enjoy some Erma wisdom (and notice that it was first published almost exactly 37 years ago -- her wisdom is timeless!):
NO MORE OATMEAL KISSES
Erma Bombeck
January 29, 1969
A young mother writes: "I know you've written before about the empty-nest syndrome, that lonely period after the children are grown and gone. Right now I'm up to my eyeballs in laundry and muddy boots. The baby is teething; the boys are fighting. My husband just called and said to eat without him, and I fell off my diet. Lay it on me again, will you?"
OK. One of these days, you'll shout, "Why don't you guys grow up and act your age!" And they will. Or, "You guys get outside and find yourselves something to do...and don't slam the door!" And they won't.
You'll straighten up the boys' bedroom neat and tidy: bumper stickers discarded, bedspread tucked and smooth, toys displayed on the shelves. Hangers in the closet. Animals caged. And you'll say out loud, "Now I want it to stay this way." And it will.
You'll prepare a perfect dinner with a salad that hasn't been picked to death and a cake with no finger traces in the icing, and you'll say, "Now, there's a meal for company." And you'll eat it alone.
You'll say, "I want complete privacy on the phone. No dancing around. No demolition crews. Silence! Do you hear?" And you'll have it.
No more plastic tablecloths stained with spaghetti. No more bedspreads to protect the sofa from damp bottoms. No more gates to stumble over at the top of the basement steps. No more clothespins under the sofa. No more playpens to arrange a room around.
No more anxious nights under a vaporizer tent. No more sand on the sheets or Popeye movies in the bathroom. No more iron-on patches, rubberbands for ponytails, tight boots or wet knotted shoestrings.
Imagine. A lipstick with a point on it. No babysitter for New Year's Eve. Washing only once a week. Seeing a steak that isn't ground. Having your teeth cleaned without a baby on your lap.
No PTA meetings. No car pools. No blaring radios. No one washing her hair at 11 o'clock at night. Having your own roll of Scotch tape.
Think about it. No more Christmas presents out of toothpicks and library paste. No more sloppy oatmeal kisses. No more tooth fairy. No giggles in the dark. No knees to heal, no responsibility.
Only a voice crying, "Why don't you grow up?" and the silence echoing, " I did."
Wednesday
The Green-Eyed Monster
Is it only a female thing to need to tread lightly when you have good news to share? "Good news! Good news!" and you'll relay the good news -- pregnancy, job happy, weight loss, life happy, whatever. The smile freezes, the eyes glaze, and you get the automaton: "That IS great news! Congratulations!" A few days or weeks later, friend and/or loved one returns to discuss why such hasn't happened to them, and they truly are so very happy for you, but when is it my turn in the sunshine?
Do only women do this to each other? Or are we equally self-centered to generally think of other people's successes as our own personal failures? Why do we do that?
I've heard one speculation that it's because (this makes it only a female thing) in the old days -- when I was growing up -- little boys played team sports and little girls competed in pageants, causing girls to be eye-clawing competitive. I've never played a team sport or competed in a pageant, but I have had to confess envy at others' good news.
I have no answers, just a discussion topic. And if you have to ask, then, yes, I probably am talking about you -- but I thought I was talking about myself!
Do only women do this to each other? Or are we equally self-centered to generally think of other people's successes as our own personal failures? Why do we do that?
I've heard one speculation that it's because (this makes it only a female thing) in the old days -- when I was growing up -- little boys played team sports and little girls competed in pageants, causing girls to be eye-clawing competitive. I've never played a team sport or competed in a pageant, but I have had to confess envy at others' good news.
I have no answers, just a discussion topic. And if you have to ask, then, yes, I probably am talking about you -- but I thought I was talking about myself!
Tuesday
I'm Pathetic
I'm drowning in ministry-type stuff I'm doing. Four different ministries need everything all at once. For one ministry, I'm supposed to be recruiting people for a particular thing to do this Saturday. My notes say we need 40 people. We've made announcements from the pulpit (well, not me, but the ministry), we've passed around sign-up sheets in different classes. I have 15 people.
So, my thoughts:
Today I went to talk to the minister over this event, expressing my concerns that my folks were going to be few on Saturday. The minister relayed to me that everything is going fine, 15 would be plenty, any more than that would simply be icing on the cake.
Now, my thoughts:
I am pathetic.
So, my thoughts:
"Why did I agree to do this? Why did he ask me to do this? I am
too busy for this, I can't put anymore time into it. This is just going to
have to do. Lord, this is what I have, these are my two mites, do
something fabulous with it."
Today I went to talk to the minister over this event, expressing my concerns that my folks were going to be few on Saturday. The minister relayed to me that everything is going fine, 15 would be plenty, any more than that would simply be icing on the cake.
Now, my thoughts:
"Why did he give me the 'icing on the cake' job? Did he not think I
could handle the real-for-real job? Did he KNOW I would botch it up?
What's with THAT?"
I am pathetic.
Monday
Random Thoughts
Y'all is a contraction for you+all. The apostrophe is between the 'y' and the 'a'. If you don't know where the apostrophe goes, leave it out altogether.
I don't have caller ID. I know that you believe that all of the free world does, but since free is one thing caller ID isn't, I choose to be surprised when I pick up the phone. I do like the surprise to end there. I don't know who you are until you tell me. (actually, most people that read this blog, I DO know who you are when you call -- just pass it along, would you?)
Overheard a gal at the gym totally put her foot in her mouth: made some joke about what you could do the next time your boss made you mad. . . while her boss was standing RIGHT there. She immediately turned red, started apologizing, and said, "I thought about that after I said it!" Yes, the optimal time to think about something is BEFORE you say it, but I just can't quite get that one down, myself. She has my sympathies.
At work about once a month we have a program called "Hour of Magic". Heard this conversation today:
"Have you ever been to an Hour of Magic?"
"No"
"They're asking all staff to go that haven't been to one yet."
"How long does it last?"
Sadly enough, I don't even think that's the same person that referred to something and said, "It's not rocket surgery, you know."
Work should keep me in blog material for weeks to come.
I don't have caller ID. I know that you believe that all of the free world does, but since free is one thing caller ID isn't, I choose to be surprised when I pick up the phone. I do like the surprise to end there. I don't know who you are until you tell me. (actually, most people that read this blog, I DO know who you are when you call -- just pass it along, would you?)
Overheard a gal at the gym totally put her foot in her mouth: made some joke about what you could do the next time your boss made you mad. . . while her boss was standing RIGHT there. She immediately turned red, started apologizing, and said, "I thought about that after I said it!" Yes, the optimal time to think about something is BEFORE you say it, but I just can't quite get that one down, myself. She has my sympathies.
At work about once a month we have a program called "Hour of Magic". Heard this conversation today:
"Have you ever been to an Hour of Magic?"
"No"
"They're asking all staff to go that haven't been to one yet."
"How long does it last?"
Sadly enough, I don't even think that's the same person that referred to something and said, "It's not rocket surgery, you know."
Work should keep me in blog material for weeks to come.
Saturday
Thursday
Jack's Famous!
Jack, who I've mentioned here several times, and who also has his own blog here, was on the cover of an Abilene-area newspaper supplement this week with the lovely Sophie, his precious twin. Read the article entitled "Jack's Big Battles" at the Abilene Families website. The reporter did a fabulous job of relaying the faith that has sustained the Marcelains throughout their "adventure".
Tammy, Rob, Derek, Sophie, and Jack -- you have all blessed us with your faith and courage. God bless you for shouting from the rooftops that it was your God who sustained you in your storm. I know God will continue to do great things through all of you.
Joshua told the people, "Consecrate yourselves, for tomorrow the LORD will do amazing things among you." Joshua 3:5
I'm pretty sure He's already started.
Wednesday
Worn Out
Yesterday I talked about my need for solitude and this morning among friends we talked about how being around people can be draining. This afternoon hit home the point that some people are much more draining than others. I'm exhausted, my brain is tired, I need solitude, and Ashley wants to bake a cake. After she ran 2.5 miles in PE. To be 10 again.
Tuesday
I would love to tell you that earth-shattering things are taking place in my life currently and it is keeping me from blogging. But that would be a lie. I am, as usual, crazy-busy, and I am becoming painfully aware that makes me not very nice to be around.
I taught ladies class at church today and made a specific note to point out John 6:15: "Jesus, knowing that they intended to come and make him king by force, withdrew again to a mountain by himself." This man had just fed 5,000 people, they were clamoring to hear more and know more, and he went to be alone. Right this minute, I believe that single act is what makes him Jesus -- or, more aptly put -- what distinguishes him AS Jesus. I doubt he even felt guilty about doing it, either.
I really need to withdraw to a mountain, hillside, street corner, or couch to be alone. I've also figured out that Working Sarah -- who, we've already established, only vaguely resembles Real Sarah -- is around people too constantly. And the more I'm around people, the less I like them as a human race. People are very funny from a distance. Up close, they're a little disturbing.
Okay! Now that I've accepted my Miss Congeniality award, I will move along. Glory Road. Go see it. Too bad you can't see it on MLK day like our family did. Oh, and I don't think I've written about Narnia here, either. See it first (they have nothing to do with each other, but if you're going in order of importance and wonderfulness, start at Narnia). There are many things the book is able to discuss about thought processes that the movie, obviously, has to sacrifice, but it is still an EXCELLENT production. I heard someone mention that they were thankful Narnia wasn't made 10 years ago when it would have seemed cartoonish. Truly, it is very well done! And Aslan -- done beautifully!
So glad that there are finally some movies I can take my children to see. Yes, my kids went to see Glory Road which is PG -- only because of the racial slurs and hate language. Movie Mom says there is "mild sexual content". Other than the coach's wife in her 1965 nightgown and a player kissing his girlfriend good-bye at the bus on the way to a game, I evidently slept through any sexual content, mild or otherwise. Go see it. (insert "Let's Go to The Movies" from the Annie soundtrack here!)
That's the news from Lake Wobegon. More when my brain starts working again!
I taught ladies class at church today and made a specific note to point out John 6:15: "Jesus, knowing that they intended to come and make him king by force, withdrew again to a mountain by himself." This man had just fed 5,000 people, they were clamoring to hear more and know more, and he went to be alone. Right this minute, I believe that single act is what makes him Jesus -- or, more aptly put -- what distinguishes him AS Jesus. I doubt he even felt guilty about doing it, either.
I really need to withdraw to a mountain, hillside, street corner, or couch to be alone. I've also figured out that Working Sarah -- who, we've already established, only vaguely resembles Real Sarah -- is around people too constantly. And the more I'm around people, the less I like them as a human race. People are very funny from a distance. Up close, they're a little disturbing.
Okay! Now that I've accepted my Miss Congeniality award, I will move along. Glory Road. Go see it. Too bad you can't see it on MLK day like our family did. Oh, and I don't think I've written about Narnia here, either. See it first (they have nothing to do with each other, but if you're going in order of importance and wonderfulness, start at Narnia). There are many things the book is able to discuss about thought processes that the movie, obviously, has to sacrifice, but it is still an EXCELLENT production. I heard someone mention that they were thankful Narnia wasn't made 10 years ago when it would have seemed cartoonish. Truly, it is very well done! And Aslan -- done beautifully!
So glad that there are finally some movies I can take my children to see. Yes, my kids went to see Glory Road which is PG -- only because of the racial slurs and hate language. Movie Mom says there is "mild sexual content". Other than the coach's wife in her 1965 nightgown and a player kissing his girlfriend good-bye at the bus on the way to a game, I evidently slept through any sexual content, mild or otherwise. Go see it. (insert "Let's Go to The Movies" from the Annie soundtrack here!)
That's the news from Lake Wobegon. More when my brain starts working again!
Sunday
Quote for the Day
God does not waste an ounce of our pain or a drop of our tears; suffering doesn't come our way for no reason, and He seems especially efficient at using what we endure to mold our character. If we are malleable, He takes our bumps and bruises and shapes them into something beautiful. -- Frank Peretti, The Wounded Spirit
Thursday
Lame Brain
I have all kinds of things that I would love to share with you -- like why irritations at my place of employment keep my brain from being able to blog. But the thought of going through all of it again just wears me out. Suffice it to say, the blind leading the blind would be a huge improvement.
I have fared okay this week getting back into a routine of school for the kids and my work. To prove my point, it's 10 p.m. Thursday and I'm still awake AND typing. I have way too much going on in my ministries at church, yes, I'm involved in way too many, one of them was supposed to be OVER last November, and I'm getting out of as many as possible.
One ministry that I don't want to get out of is teaching ladies class. I really enjoy that, though right now it is REALLY difficult to spend as much time planning as I need to. The last time I taught ladies class before now was fall of '04. That previous summer I was asked if I could teach one week. I picked out a week that would work, which happened to have me teaching on the woman at the well. Awesome -- great story, lots to learn! So, by the time I teach, the preacher is on week 3 of a 4-week series on the woman at the well! Obviously, I had to really stretch to come up with a new angle!
Last fall, I was asked to teach ladies class. I will be teaching through the beginning of March. I opted to teach on the disciple John starting with the gospel of John as my text. Guess what the sermon was about on Sunday? Guess what every adult Bible class started studying Sunday? Hello!! We have an entire Bible, folks! Thankfully, God can breathe a fresh word into material that we hear 3 times in a week! Later someone pointed out to me that ACU lectureship is also on John this year!! Wow! We must all really need to hear from John!
Some answers to questions I have gotten regarding previous blogs:
I have fared okay this week getting back into a routine of school for the kids and my work. To prove my point, it's 10 p.m. Thursday and I'm still awake AND typing. I have way too much going on in my ministries at church, yes, I'm involved in way too many, one of them was supposed to be OVER last November, and I'm getting out of as many as possible.
One ministry that I don't want to get out of is teaching ladies class. I really enjoy that, though right now it is REALLY difficult to spend as much time planning as I need to. The last time I taught ladies class before now was fall of '04. That previous summer I was asked if I could teach one week. I picked out a week that would work, which happened to have me teaching on the woman at the well. Awesome -- great story, lots to learn! So, by the time I teach, the preacher is on week 3 of a 4-week series on the woman at the well! Obviously, I had to really stretch to come up with a new angle!
Last fall, I was asked to teach ladies class. I will be teaching through the beginning of March. I opted to teach on the disciple John starting with the gospel of John as my text. Guess what the sermon was about on Sunday? Guess what every adult Bible class started studying Sunday? Hello!! We have an entire Bible, folks! Thankfully, God can breathe a fresh word into material that we hear 3 times in a week! Later someone pointed out to me that ACU lectureship is also on John this year!! Wow! We must all really need to hear from John!
Some answers to questions I have gotten regarding previous blogs:
- the couch: on hold indefinitely. nobody at this house has the energy to shop, much less compromise on couches. we're not desperate yet -- please do not bring us your old one.
- Ashley's room: turned out SO cute! If I ever finish painting the scripture on the wall, I will post some pictures here. I hope to finish the scripture this weekend.
Finishing up with some ACU business: Randy Vaughn has started a blog for the class of 1991 since this is our 15th reunion year. ACU Class of 1991. Stop by and check in, and/or pass it along to others from the class of 1991.
Tuesday
Things I Did Not Miss During the Holidays
- Ironing
- Dragging bleary-eyed children out of bed while it is still dark out
- Rushing everywhere
- Work
- A to-do list
- Feeling as if family time was "wasting time"
- Meetings
Saturday
Ten Years
I remember it as if it happened yesterday.
People told me these years would fly by in the blink of an eye, but the sleepless nights with breathing treatments, vomitting, and emergency room visits kept me from believing it.
The scene I remember most vividly was standing in my spotless kitchen putting away the glass I had been drinking out of. It was the only dirty dish in the house. I never went through the nesting phase, but Troy did. Everything had been done -- the house was clean, Troy had put my bags in the car and started the car since it was cold out. There was nothing else left to do except for leave. So I stood and cried.
I was SO overwhelmed and frightened -- not just at the thought of labor, though that didn't sound like a lot of fun, either. I was the only one who really knew exactly how woefully inadequate I was for the role of Motherhood that was before me.
I remember walking in from the hospital with this tiny, very unhappy bundle in my arms, thinking, "Now what? Please don't send her home with me. I have no idea what I'm doing!"
I remember watching my parents pull away from my house after a week, thinking, "You REALLY don't want to leave your only grandchild with me. I have NO idea what I'm doing!"
I remember the pediatrician, after the 2-week check-up, saying that all was great and he should see me in a few months. I remember thinking, "MONTHS?!?!? Are you kidding me? Please don't leave me alone with her! I really don't know what I'm doing here!"
I remember precisely what I was wearing the day I went back to finish teaching the school year with my 2nd grade class. The children applauded that I was back! I remember being in the middle of a lesson and thinking, "I only thought I didn't know what I was doing as a teacher until I became a parent and found out what 'clueless' REALLY means. THIS I can do. Parenting -- don't think so."
The first piece of jewelry we ever gave her was a little silver pendant in the shape of a gift box to remind her of what we always tell her -- she is a precious gift from God. She is truly such a blessing as I watch God mold her and grow her in Him in spite of my glaring shortcomings as a parent.
I had that overwhelming feeling again yesterday as I heard her having a giggle-fit with some of her friends, and deciding who exactly was her "BFF" (Best Friends Forever, you know!) Where has it all gone? The time is going too fast!
Thank you, Lord, for this blink in time that I have had my angel at my house.
Happy Birthday, Ashley!
People told me these years would fly by in the blink of an eye, but the sleepless nights with breathing treatments, vomitting, and emergency room visits kept me from believing it.
The scene I remember most vividly was standing in my spotless kitchen putting away the glass I had been drinking out of. It was the only dirty dish in the house. I never went through the nesting phase, but Troy did. Everything had been done -- the house was clean, Troy had put my bags in the car and started the car since it was cold out. There was nothing else left to do except for leave. So I stood and cried.
I was SO overwhelmed and frightened -- not just at the thought of labor, though that didn't sound like a lot of fun, either. I was the only one who really knew exactly how woefully inadequate I was for the role of Motherhood that was before me.
I remember walking in from the hospital with this tiny, very unhappy bundle in my arms, thinking, "Now what? Please don't send her home with me. I have no idea what I'm doing!"
I remember watching my parents pull away from my house after a week, thinking, "You REALLY don't want to leave your only grandchild with me. I have NO idea what I'm doing!"
I remember the pediatrician, after the 2-week check-up, saying that all was great and he should see me in a few months. I remember thinking, "MONTHS?!?!? Are you kidding me? Please don't leave me alone with her! I really don't know what I'm doing here!"
I remember precisely what I was wearing the day I went back to finish teaching the school year with my 2nd grade class. The children applauded that I was back! I remember being in the middle of a lesson and thinking, "I only thought I didn't know what I was doing as a teacher until I became a parent and found out what 'clueless' REALLY means. THIS I can do. Parenting -- don't think so."
The first piece of jewelry we ever gave her was a little silver pendant in the shape of a gift box to remind her of what we always tell her -- she is a precious gift from God. She is truly such a blessing as I watch God mold her and grow her in Him in spite of my glaring shortcomings as a parent.
I had that overwhelming feeling again yesterday as I heard her having a giggle-fit with some of her friends, and deciding who exactly was her "BFF" (Best Friends Forever, you know!) Where has it all gone? The time is going too fast!
Thank you, Lord, for this blink in time that I have had my angel at my house.
Happy Birthday, Ashley!
Friday
Don't ya hate it. . .?
You know how you can be carrying something large -- big box, or one of those crazy exercise balls at the gym -- and you underestimate exactly how large it is and ram it into a wall or counter, thereby ramming it further into your body, which in turn then rams into an opposing wall or counter as it reels from the first blow? Not only do you look ridiculous, as if you are in a life-size pin-ball game, but you are injured, perhaps internally from cramming a box into your rib cage, and bruised from then bouncing into the wall.
This is all pretty much me as I put away my Christmas decorations. Actually, it's pretty much me as I go through life.
Does this happen to ANYONE else?
This is all pretty much me as I put away my Christmas decorations. Actually, it's pretty much me as I go through life.
Does this happen to ANYONE else?
Thursday
Life Lessons
Over the past few weeks, Troy and I have been trying to pick out a new couch and decide how to invest some of our money. I have come to the following conclusion: After 13+ years of marriage, Troy and I agree on virtually nothing.
I'm a fan/proponent of pre-marital counseling. I think that couples should spend time examining their relationship and how to work things out before marriage. However, in the same way that college does little to prepare you for any actual work-place, pre-marital counseling is lacking covering every situation.
I think the following scenario should be included in pre-marital counseling:
I'm a fan/proponent of pre-marital counseling. I think that couples should spend time examining their relationship and how to work things out before marriage. However, in the same way that college does little to prepare you for any actual work-place, pre-marital counseling is lacking covering every situation.
I think the following scenario should be included in pre-marital counseling:
- Couple receives a sum of money and must decide what to do with it: travel? invest? furnishings? Let's settle on furnishings, let's get a couch. Okay, well that's settled!
No, no, no -- not so fast!! NOW:
- Couple goes to furniture store and with complete honesty each points out which couch they LOVE.
- He and she now list all the myriad of reasons the other's couch will never cross the threshold of their home.
- NOW the negotiating comes in: what don't you like about it, what about this one that is a little different.
- Spend all afternoon visiting every furniture store in town seeing that they all have the same couches and you each still love and hate the same couches.
- Notice on your driving around town that your car is on it's last leg.
- Take car to repair shop where repairs cost the exact same amount you were planning on spending on a couch.
- Be thankful you have the money, and decide you sit in the car a lot more than on any couch anyway.
Wednesday
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