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!
Originally published March 8, 2006.
Saturday
Thursday
Bloggy Musings
I have many things rolling around in my head, most of them way too deep for a blog that is mainly good for a few laughs. (WHY do I always type that word 'laughts' first???) I'm doing quite a bit of writing, but I doubt any of it will end up here.
So I saw this on the news last night. It only begs one question: "Why?"
Remember when this blog was educational? You still remember the definition of "vomitory", right? But no one remembers the definition of decadent. Or they don't care. Because I still hear it all the time implying that I would REALLY want something if it were decadent. Um, no thanks.
So I saw this on the news last night. It only begs one question: "Why?"
Remember when this blog was educational? You still remember the definition of "vomitory", right? But no one remembers the definition of decadent. Or they don't care. Because I still hear it all the time implying that I would REALLY want something if it were decadent. Um, no thanks.
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
This post was originally published February 28, 2006.
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
This post was originally published February 28, 2006.
Monday
Happy Birthday, Poppa Max!
This past weekend I had the privilege of joining the other members of my family to pay tribute to my Poppa Max -- my dad's dad -- on the occasion of his 90th birthday. His birthday was way back in April, but he was gracious enough to wait until June to celebrate so that his school-teaching grandchildren and school-aged great-grandchildren could more easily join in the celebration. He has been miserable and in constant pain for several years now and we never know what kind of day he will have. We were so blessed that Saturday seemed to be a good day for him and he thoroughly enjoyed the dozens of people who came out on a steamy summer afternoon to wish him well.
I'm not sure what this stoic look is to mean in this picture, but I love it. Mainly because I love that man to his toes.
Sunday afternoon at lunch I had the honor of sitting next to him and just soaking him up. I loved every minute of it. His medication keeps him a little foggy, but bless his sweet heart, he's just as happy as he can be. He fumbled with his plate long enough that I finally just grabbed his fork and said, "let me" -- and I cut some meat into sizes he could manage. I really got a little weepy doing that -- not because we've come so full circle and this pillar of physical and emotional strength now needs help to do anything: eat, dress, walk, etc. No, I was weepy that I was finally doing one of the only things I can do to pay him back for all he's done for me. And it's so little. And it will never be enough. Maybe that's why I love the phrase, "Pay it forward." That's all I can do at this point.
I love these guys to their toes, too. AND the fella in the other yellow shirt who was behind Ashley. I don't know if his eyes were closed so that he got cropped out of this one or what, but it's one of PRECIOUS few pictures we have of the kids looking nice -- no gang signs or eyes rolling or anything.
Lord, give me a little corner of your wisdom and grace to teach them gratitude and to pay it forward.
I'm not sure what this stoic look is to mean in this picture, but I love it. Mainly because I love that man to his toes.
Sunday afternoon at lunch I had the honor of sitting next to him and just soaking him up. I loved every minute of it. His medication keeps him a little foggy, but bless his sweet heart, he's just as happy as he can be. He fumbled with his plate long enough that I finally just grabbed his fork and said, "let me" -- and I cut some meat into sizes he could manage. I really got a little weepy doing that -- not because we've come so full circle and this pillar of physical and emotional strength now needs help to do anything: eat, dress, walk, etc. No, I was weepy that I was finally doing one of the only things I can do to pay him back for all he's done for me. And it's so little. And it will never be enough. Maybe that's why I love the phrase, "Pay it forward." That's all I can do at this point. I love these guys to their toes, too. AND the fella in the other yellow shirt who was behind Ashley. I don't know if his eyes were closed so that he got cropped out of this one or what, but it's one of PRECIOUS few pictures we have of the kids looking nice -- no gang signs or eyes rolling or anything.
Lord, give me a little corner of your wisdom and grace to teach them gratitude and to pay it forward.The Difference Between Moms and Dads
No, this isn't an anatomy lesson.
This really struck me recently. Troy was off of work and we had a fun family day. Early in the day, before it got too miserably hot, we decided to go for a bike ride. The kids and I all have bikes, but our oldest chose not to go on the ride, so Troy used her bike and the three of us went for a ride.
Keep in mind that the kids and I have ridden quite frequently together. It basically always makes me a nervous wreck. I spend most of my time coaching on bicycle safety:"Stay in a single-file line on the right side of the road.""Slow down at this intersection to watch for cars. They have the stop sign, but make sure they see you.""Keep your helmet on the top part of your head."The funny thing is that when I was riding with my husband (who refused to wear a helmet) I should have been saying the same things. I realized that while I feel it is my job to teach my children how to be safe on their bicycles, Troy believes it is his job to teach them how to do a perfect wheelie and how to go 'dirt-biking' over the mounds of dirt at a nearby construction site.
In all honesty -- each of those things is important. So I'm thankful that Troy is around to teach such things (I don't think I could ever pull off a wheelie).I thought the same thing on our amusement-park tour. It was my self-appointed job to make sure everyone got enough water to drink, was always with an adult, and didn't eat so much junk that they got sick (which was easy to do since after paying $9 for an icee for everyone, we were done for the day -- I'm not exaggerating a penny). Troy had to make sure that everyone rode at least one thing that was a little bit scary for them, then on Friday he made the most beloved rule of all. After we had both jumped all over youngest for burping quite audibly at the steak house the night before, Troy made a new rule after lunch on Friday: "Burping after meals consumed in an amusement park is okay." After this pronunciation, he proceeded to shake the rafters with his own eructation. The kids were thrilled.
I am so thankful to God for designing this dance we do through life of give / take, push / pull, worry / play as parents. I am so thankful for the man I married to take on his role as bicycle daredevil instructor and roller coaster evaluator.
This post was originally published August 1, 2005.
This really struck me recently. Troy was off of work and we had a fun family day. Early in the day, before it got too miserably hot, we decided to go for a bike ride. The kids and I all have bikes, but our oldest chose not to go on the ride, so Troy used her bike and the three of us went for a ride.
Keep in mind that the kids and I have ridden quite frequently together. It basically always makes me a nervous wreck. I spend most of my time coaching on bicycle safety:"Stay in a single-file line on the right side of the road.""Slow down at this intersection to watch for cars. They have the stop sign, but make sure they see you.""Keep your helmet on the top part of your head."The funny thing is that when I was riding with my husband (who refused to wear a helmet) I should have been saying the same things. I realized that while I feel it is my job to teach my children how to be safe on their bicycles, Troy believes it is his job to teach them how to do a perfect wheelie and how to go 'dirt-biking' over the mounds of dirt at a nearby construction site.
In all honesty -- each of those things is important. So I'm thankful that Troy is around to teach such things (I don't think I could ever pull off a wheelie).I thought the same thing on our amusement-park tour. It was my self-appointed job to make sure everyone got enough water to drink, was always with an adult, and didn't eat so much junk that they got sick (which was easy to do since after paying $9 for an icee for everyone, we were done for the day -- I'm not exaggerating a penny). Troy had to make sure that everyone rode at least one thing that was a little bit scary for them, then on Friday he made the most beloved rule of all. After we had both jumped all over youngest for burping quite audibly at the steak house the night before, Troy made a new rule after lunch on Friday: "Burping after meals consumed in an amusement park is okay." After this pronunciation, he proceeded to shake the rafters with his own eructation. The kids were thrilled.
I am so thankful to God for designing this dance we do through life of give / take, push / pull, worry / play as parents. I am so thankful for the man I married to take on his role as bicycle daredevil instructor and roller coaster evaluator.
This post was originally published August 1, 2005.
Sunday
Recipe Blog
I mentioned my recipe blog recently. I would love to encourage anyone to wander over there and look around. With "new blogger" -- I think it's about 8 months old, but I'm just now messing with it enough to see how it's different -- I now have labels in the side bar. So you can check out some easy main dishes or yummy desserts or whatever suits your fancy!
I would love for anyone to join and be a "contributor" to the recipe blog! Just email me (from my email addy in my profile) to let me know you would like to, and I will set it up!
I would love for anyone to join and be a "contributor" to the recipe blog! Just email me (from my email addy in my profile) to let me know you would like to, and I will set it up!
Friday
A Happy Day in Heaven
Because I am a self-absorbed person and only see or hear news about once a week, I did not realize that Ruth Bell Graham died on Thursday. I am unable to sum up her life any better than Janice did here. More than anything, I appreciate that Ruth and Billy Graham are faithful followers of the Lord. Not just for a season, not just when it's "in", and not for any amount of personal glory. The earth is a sadder place without Ruth Bell Graham, but heaven is happier.
Thursday
Private to the Sisters
I started to email this little "lecture/sermon/ encouraging word" to my ministry group. It just seems that we are all in different places of struggle/ turmoil in our lives -- except for Judy. She won't stay home from Hawaii or the Bahamas or something long enough for me to know how she's doing -- Judy, I hope you're okay! Miss you! Some of the struggle has been bestowed upon us by this world, some of it is a life adventure of our own choosing, but we are all trying to adjust and keep up.
Then I started listening to the women around me. We're all there. Family issues, health issues, life issues, ministry issues, work issues. Some of us have all of those. We're strung out and weary. And, just between you and me, some of you are very, very grouchy. I'm sure it isn't YOU. But maybe you. Definitely me.
Here's what I want all of us to remember -- the Lord will use us in mighty ways if we but lay our lives at His feet daily. That's it. Oh, and He knows. He knows where you are. He knows what's up in your life. And He's CRAZY about you.
He promises: I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. (Isaiah 41:10)
In Psalms, David reminds us: God, your God, has set you above your companions by anointing you with the oil of joy. (Psalm 45:7)
I've already been praying for you. Yes, even you, because as I listen to the precious souls around me, this world is weighing on us all. Praying that you will rest in Him and find renewed strength in Him. Praying that you may, as my precious friend Beverly reminded me, "prepare in the light for when the darkness comes". And if you are already thrown into the darkness, find His light to lead you out.
He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak.
Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall;
but those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint. (Isaiah 40:29-31)
Then I started listening to the women around me. We're all there. Family issues, health issues, life issues, ministry issues, work issues. Some of us have all of those. We're strung out and weary. And, just between you and me, some of you are very, very grouchy. I'm sure it isn't YOU. But maybe you. Definitely me.
Here's what I want all of us to remember -- the Lord will use us in mighty ways if we but lay our lives at His feet daily. That's it. Oh, and He knows. He knows where you are. He knows what's up in your life. And He's CRAZY about you.
He promises: I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. (Isaiah 41:10)
In Psalms, David reminds us: God, your God, has set you above your companions by anointing you with the oil of joy. (Psalm 45:7)
I've already been praying for you. Yes, even you, because as I listen to the precious souls around me, this world is weighing on us all. Praying that you will rest in Him and find renewed strength in Him. Praying that you may, as my precious friend Beverly reminded me, "prepare in the light for when the darkness comes". And if you are already thrown into the darkness, find His light to lead you out.
He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak.
Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall;
but those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint. (Isaiah 40:29-31)
Wednesday
Why Do I Even Bother Formulating a Plan For My Day????
I had fun with the blog meme, and met a few really nice, equally addicted bloggers out there. Actually, you would have to maybe be addicted TO blogging to qualify. And I am obviously not. Reading them? I can't walk away.... writing them, it's hard these days!
I ran over to Wholly Devoted and really enjoyed Deena's blog. I especially enjoyed that her initial plan for her blog was to reflect thoughts around a Bible study for her church. I loved that idea and thought about posting a reflection on my daily Bible reading here. Well, I did THINK about it, and even had a thought or two yesterday.
But today has not quite gone like I had planned. And, you know, I say that so frequently -- I really just need to quit planning my day. Truly, that is the easy answer and probably what the Lord is trying to teach me anyway. For instance, one of my verses from yesterday was Proverbs 16:9: "In his heart a man plans his course, but the Lord determines his steps."
So I got up and skipped my "first thing, no matter what" Bible reading because I had to hustle out the door so I could get in my walk and be back before my door installer got here. So I got home just in time to greet door installer and get him on his way and immediately set about my work (which is why I should do my "first thing, no matter what" Bible reading since I just can't seem to stop later) and house piddling, etc. I went to turn on the water in the kitchen -- nothing.
So, I ask the door guys, "You don't have the water turned off for any reason do you?" "No, ma'am, but there was a guy from the city here in your front yard about 5 minutes ago." Yuck, my gut fears what has happened -- I check my online bill payments. Yes, I did make that payment. 'Cause in May I TOTALLY forgot to pay the water bill. I don't mean remembered a week or so later, I mean I COMPLETELY forgot. You know, I did have a thing or two going on in May. And, it's not like I was actually LIVING in my home to think about, appreciate, and pay for my water usage. Until we got our bill for June that also included the May amount. So I scheduled them both to be paid. The day before my payment was to go out we did get a friendly little disconnect notice that caused me to double-check that I had, in fact, scheduled the payment to be made. Yes, there it is. Ready to go tomorrow, two full weeks before they are going to shut us down. It's all good.
So when I called my not-so-friendly water utilities employee this morning to ask if I might, please, have my water turned back on, she sniffed and told me all the hoops I would have to jump through to show her that I HAVE in fact made that payment (two weeks ago now) because they don't have it. Or maybe Maybel put it on her desk before she left for vacation last week. Either way, it's not posted, you don't have water, Missy, and we hold the power because YOU haven't paid your bill. Oh, but I have, but we don't want to hear any of that.
So after a call to the water department, the bank, my online bill pay service, the water department (again) and the online bill pay service (again), I thought I was in business. But when I called to check on that whole process, I was told that a) the original employee I had talked to had gone to lunch b)they would tell the city employees who are probably leaned against their truck around the corner from me to turn it on when they felt like it and c)I have to be here to sign something for them to turn it on.
Let me get this straight -- you can turn it off without my permission or knowledge, but I have to sit here and wait for you to turn it back on. I did tell this happy little soul that I am SO glad the original person got to go to lunch since there is no way for me to wash hands or fix lunch for my family, yet you're telling me we can't GO to lunch because I can't leave. I do understand that this isn't the city's fault, and it certainly isn't the fault of the lunch-eater OR her replacement. I also understand that the bulk of their dealings are not with people like myself who actually do pay their bills on time, and evidently the bulk of their dealings are not with people who use these new-fangled computer-internets-type-things.
So, I here I am, still covered in the grime from my walk this morning, a half-filled washing machine waiting to complete a load, and toilets that will flush (thank you, Lord) but not refill. I told the kids to look real pathetic if a city employee drove up, so, to be funny, they went and rubbed dirt on their faces. They were a little irritated that they couldn't wash their hands after that, though!
So I should use this time to go do my "after it's all been said and done and it's all over but the crying" Bible reading. I'm sure the Lord has LOTS to say to me today!
I ran over to Wholly Devoted and really enjoyed Deena's blog. I especially enjoyed that her initial plan for her blog was to reflect thoughts around a Bible study for her church. I loved that idea and thought about posting a reflection on my daily Bible reading here. Well, I did THINK about it, and even had a thought or two yesterday.
But today has not quite gone like I had planned. And, you know, I say that so frequently -- I really just need to quit planning my day. Truly, that is the easy answer and probably what the Lord is trying to teach me anyway. For instance, one of my verses from yesterday was Proverbs 16:9: "In his heart a man plans his course, but the Lord determines his steps."
So I got up and skipped my "first thing, no matter what" Bible reading because I had to hustle out the door so I could get in my walk and be back before my door installer got here. So I got home just in time to greet door installer and get him on his way and immediately set about my work (which is why I should do my "first thing, no matter what" Bible reading since I just can't seem to stop later) and house piddling, etc. I went to turn on the water in the kitchen -- nothing.
So, I ask the door guys, "You don't have the water turned off for any reason do you?" "No, ma'am, but there was a guy from the city here in your front yard about 5 minutes ago." Yuck, my gut fears what has happened -- I check my online bill payments. Yes, I did make that payment. 'Cause in May I TOTALLY forgot to pay the water bill. I don't mean remembered a week or so later, I mean I COMPLETELY forgot. You know, I did have a thing or two going on in May. And, it's not like I was actually LIVING in my home to think about, appreciate, and pay for my water usage. Until we got our bill for June that also included the May amount. So I scheduled them both to be paid. The day before my payment was to go out we did get a friendly little disconnect notice that caused me to double-check that I had, in fact, scheduled the payment to be made. Yes, there it is. Ready to go tomorrow, two full weeks before they are going to shut us down. It's all good.
So when I called my not-so-friendly water utilities employee this morning to ask if I might, please, have my water turned back on, she sniffed and told me all the hoops I would have to jump through to show her that I HAVE in fact made that payment (two weeks ago now) because they don't have it. Or maybe Maybel put it on her desk before she left for vacation last week. Either way, it's not posted, you don't have water, Missy, and we hold the power because YOU haven't paid your bill. Oh, but I have, but we don't want to hear any of that.
So after a call to the water department, the bank, my online bill pay service, the water department (again) and the online bill pay service (again), I thought I was in business. But when I called to check on that whole process, I was told that a) the original employee I had talked to had gone to lunch b)they would tell the city employees who are probably leaned against their truck around the corner from me to turn it on when they felt like it and c)I have to be here to sign something for them to turn it on.
Let me get this straight -- you can turn it off without my permission or knowledge, but I have to sit here and wait for you to turn it back on. I did tell this happy little soul that I am SO glad the original person got to go to lunch since there is no way for me to wash hands or fix lunch for my family, yet you're telling me we can't GO to lunch because I can't leave. I do understand that this isn't the city's fault, and it certainly isn't the fault of the lunch-eater OR her replacement. I also understand that the bulk of their dealings are not with people like myself who actually do pay their bills on time, and evidently the bulk of their dealings are not with people who use these new-fangled computer-internets-type-things.
So, I here I am, still covered in the grime from my walk this morning, a half-filled washing machine waiting to complete a load, and toilets that will flush (thank you, Lord) but not refill. I told the kids to look real pathetic if a city employee drove up, so, to be funny, they went and rubbed dirt on their faces. They were a little irritated that they couldn't wash their hands after that, though!
So I should use this time to go do my "after it's all been said and done and it's all over but the crying" Bible reading. I'm sure the Lord has LOTS to say to me today!
Monday
A Little Interview
Chilihead (no, I'm sorry, I have no idea why she refers to herself thusly) wants to know a little bit about bloggers. So, I'll play along:
Tell Your Blogging Story
- How did you start blogging? I barely knew what they were, but I was interested in doing a little writing, and wanted a place to "house" it. Debbie mentioned to me that she had one and where to set one up.
- Did you intend to be a blog w/a following? If so, how did you go about it? No, I didn't intend to be a blog with a following. Good thing, or I would be a miserable failure!
- What do you hope to achieve or accomplish with your blog? Have you been successful? If not, do you have a plan to achieve those goals? Okay, this assumes big schemes and plans. I have none. I want people to laugh and think. Sometimes even on the same day. I want people to love my family as much as I do. I want to share what the Lord teaches me and how He blesses me.
- Has the focus of your blog changed since you started blogging? How? Yes. I have come to realize that if the Lord puts some sort of deep and profound life lesson in my head to reveal, people enjoy it. But frequently, they're just as happy with a funny story from the diaper days.
- What do you know now that you wish you'd known when you started? What a precious community of friends the blog community CAN be.
- Do you make money with your blog? I only lose time and gain weight from sitting so much!
- Does your immediate or extended family know about your blog? If so, do they read it? If not, why? Yes, they all know. My poor kids -- anytime something happens in our family that makes me laugh they ask, "Is this a blog moment?" Hubby and dad are frequent commenters, and evidently aunts, uncles, and cousins are reading but not commenting!
- What two pieces of advice would you give to a new blogger? 1. NEVER forget the phrase: WORLD-Wide-Web. Be very careful of what you say, how much you say, and how you say it. 2. This can become a crazy addiction!
Check out the hows and whys of other bloggers at Chilihead's place!
Sunday
Sacred Marriage
Troy and I went to a marriage seminar several months ago. I thought I had written about it here, but found a half-post buried in my drafts waiting for my attention. I've really been thinking much about what the speaker said lately.
After going to a Christian school 1st - 12th grades, a Christian college for 5 years, a couple (or three?) Faulkner/ Brecheen seminars, and various and sundry other sermons and Sunday school curricula, I went to the seminar prepared to hear things I had heard many times before. But, I figured it couldn't hurt for Troy and I to be reminded that we need to take time for each other and hold hands more often (we're pretty good hand-holders -- any more hand-holding and it really may inhibit our day-to-day activities). I was completely blown away.
Gary Thomas was our speaker, and he looks about 12. At first glance, you wouldn't have imagined that he had even been married long enough to have much to say about it. He's also incredibly soft-spoken. I initially thought it may be a very long day. But he is very enjoyable to listen to, and basically said something that, not only had I never heard before, but it had never even crossed my mind.
His basic premise is that this idea that marriage is for MY happiness and romance is a Hollywood idea, and fairly recent in the history of mankind.
What if, he said, just what if marriage was for MY holiness, not happiness? What if my marriage is all about ME, as one of God's imperfect children, learning to love one of God's imperfect children? What if I viewed my love of my spouse and the way I treat my spouse as one of the many ways I can worship and serve God?
I'm tellin' ya, it had never even crossed my mind, but it made perfect sense. And I'm not an easy person to sway! One example really stuck with me. He mentioned that historians are fairly unanimous in their agreement of Abraham Lincoln being included in the list of the greatest United States presidents of all times; known for his leadership and drive to unity at a terribly divisive time in our history. They are also fairly unanimous in including Mary Todd Lincoln as one of the most miserable and awful First Ladies. Gary Thomas' thought was that perhaps the commitment to cling to his marriage through difficult times prepared him for greatness in the Oval Office.
There are many things I would like to ask him, and many things I'm still praying on, but that viewpoint has brought much peace to me. I think simply because it's a surrender of self and will -- which are, to me, two of the hardest things to get out of the way to make such a close relationship work. And, more importantly, it's a voluntary surrender -- I choose to worship and honor God by the way I treat his son, my husband. My husband doesn't demand it, God doesn't even demand it, but I choose to surrender my way and what I want in order to honor God through my marriage (okay, now I'm sounding like a saint -- which I am NOT -- I'm just explaining this new and painless way of thinking for me). And God, in turn, blesses me with a happier husband who is eager to take care of me and keep me happy! God has also shown me, as I pray to let go of things, that very few things that have irritated me are really worth being upset over. When you pray to the creator of the universe about getting your way for dinner selection, you realize how piddly you sound. Embarrassing, but true.
Something else that REALLY struck me from that seminar was this statement: "As Christians, our greatest witness should be keeping our marriages together. And we're not. Our divorce rate looks no different than the world's." Wow. Very true. What's up with that? I have all sorts of theories about that -- time doesn't allow me to speak to those in a manner sensitive enough for the subject, though. But so much of that comes from us all trying to look like we have it all together, and not having relationships within the Christian family that we can turn to and reveal our hearts and struggles and prayer needs. Of course, many of us within the Christian family cannot be trusted with that information without relaying it to "just a few people" until the chain of gossip already has us divorced. But that's a whole other issue for a whole other blog post!
I would really encourage any of you to read the book, "Sacred Marriage". As much as I am trying to really stay in God's word right now and mainly listen to Him and only Him, I think that the book Sacred Marriage is a great compliment to scripture -- and another step in understanding and remembering that this life, including my marriage, is not about me and my happiness. It's for Him and to reflect His holiness.
After going to a Christian school 1st - 12th grades, a Christian college for 5 years, a couple (or three?) Faulkner/ Brecheen seminars, and various and sundry other sermons and Sunday school curricula, I went to the seminar prepared to hear things I had heard many times before. But, I figured it couldn't hurt for Troy and I to be reminded that we need to take time for each other and hold hands more often (we're pretty good hand-holders -- any more hand-holding and it really may inhibit our day-to-day activities). I was completely blown away.
Gary Thomas was our speaker, and he looks about 12. At first glance, you wouldn't have imagined that he had even been married long enough to have much to say about it. He's also incredibly soft-spoken. I initially thought it may be a very long day. But he is very enjoyable to listen to, and basically said something that, not only had I never heard before, but it had never even crossed my mind.
His basic premise is that this idea that marriage is for MY happiness and romance is a Hollywood idea, and fairly recent in the history of mankind.
What if, he said, just what if marriage was for MY holiness, not happiness? What if my marriage is all about ME, as one of God's imperfect children, learning to love one of God's imperfect children? What if I viewed my love of my spouse and the way I treat my spouse as one of the many ways I can worship and serve God?
I'm tellin' ya, it had never even crossed my mind, but it made perfect sense. And I'm not an easy person to sway! One example really stuck with me. He mentioned that historians are fairly unanimous in their agreement of Abraham Lincoln being included in the list of the greatest United States presidents of all times; known for his leadership and drive to unity at a terribly divisive time in our history. They are also fairly unanimous in including Mary Todd Lincoln as one of the most miserable and awful First Ladies. Gary Thomas' thought was that perhaps the commitment to cling to his marriage through difficult times prepared him for greatness in the Oval Office.
There are many things I would like to ask him, and many things I'm still praying on, but that viewpoint has brought much peace to me. I think simply because it's a surrender of self and will -- which are, to me, two of the hardest things to get out of the way to make such a close relationship work. And, more importantly, it's a voluntary surrender -- I choose to worship and honor God by the way I treat his son, my husband. My husband doesn't demand it, God doesn't even demand it, but I choose to surrender my way and what I want in order to honor God through my marriage (okay, now I'm sounding like a saint -- which I am NOT -- I'm just explaining this new and painless way of thinking for me). And God, in turn, blesses me with a happier husband who is eager to take care of me and keep me happy! God has also shown me, as I pray to let go of things, that very few things that have irritated me are really worth being upset over. When you pray to the creator of the universe about getting your way for dinner selection, you realize how piddly you sound. Embarrassing, but true.
Something else that REALLY struck me from that seminar was this statement: "As Christians, our greatest witness should be keeping our marriages together. And we're not. Our divorce rate looks no different than the world's." Wow. Very true. What's up with that? I have all sorts of theories about that -- time doesn't allow me to speak to those in a manner sensitive enough for the subject, though. But so much of that comes from us all trying to look like we have it all together, and not having relationships within the Christian family that we can turn to and reveal our hearts and struggles and prayer needs. Of course, many of us within the Christian family cannot be trusted with that information without relaying it to "just a few people" until the chain of gossip already has us divorced. But that's a whole other issue for a whole other blog post!
I would really encourage any of you to read the book, "Sacred Marriage". As much as I am trying to really stay in God's word right now and mainly listen to Him and only Him, I think that the book Sacred Marriage is a great compliment to scripture -- and another step in understanding and remembering that this life, including my marriage, is not about me and my happiness. It's for Him and to reflect His holiness.
Saturday
Relaxing on Saturday
Well, we made it! As I mentioned, we lost Thursday night, so no ball game for us last night. I had already agreed to keep Kenny and Abbie, so at least I didn't have to figure out how to juggle them, the ball field, and Dixie burgers for dinner. That was a bit of a relief.
Yesterday I used my Mother's Day gift -- a gift certificate for a massage, manicure, AND pedicure at a local salon. In a word, GLORIOUS. No matter how wonderful the friends that take on my kids are, that much time always makes me feel guilty for the person stuck with my kids (I know, most people feel guilty being away from their kids -- I feel guilty for laying the responsibility for them at another person's feet). But I did decide that I would probably be a happier and healthier person if I got a massage on a regular basis. Oh, and poorer, I'm thinkin'. But it made yesterday a wonderful and relaxing day.
After Kenny and Abbie left last night, Troy and I piled in bed to watch TV just for minute before we went to sleep. I woke up at about 11 with the TV on and Troy next to me snoring -- which he NEVER does unless he is just wiped out. I turned off the TV and Troy and I woke up a little more than 11 hours later. Again, a glorious Saturday! I'm thinking we needed a little baseball detox and sleep -- and we got both.
This summer one of my many projects is to teach my children to cook a few meals -- so that when school starts mom can have one night a week off of cooking and let them handle it. So, as a trade-off/ reward for that, I decided that I would make dessert on the nights that they cook. As I remember, I will try to post recipes on my recipe blog. Last week, Riley missed all the fun of cooking (baseball practice -- go figure) so Ashley made us a most yummy spaghetti meal. I made Strawberry Daquiri Dessert. I'm not sentimental about food on a regular basis, but this is one of the last desserts -- if not THE last -- that my mother-in-law made before she died (this is one of those "freaky memory" facts that Troy will roll his eyes that I know). I have the recipe scribbled in the back of the notebook I was using as a prayer journal during that time. She was an AMAZING cook. She was not a very open person about her feelings, but she showed her love through her efforts in the kitchen. I will never measure up in that regard and have long since quit trying.
ANYWAY -- Strawberry Daquiri Dessert. Most yummy -- and Ashley, the queen of mispronunciation, calls it "Strawberry Dukey-airy" making it sound much less appetizing. Tonight the kids are making homemade pizza for us -- one of our family's favorite. I'll put the recipe for the crust on the recipe blog, as well. So I made a dessert I saw in Family Circle while standing in line waiting to check out. Our layered ice cream cake is still in the process of being made, but it has ice cream sandwiches in it -- how bad can it be?
Happy Saturday to all!
Yesterday I used my Mother's Day gift -- a gift certificate for a massage, manicure, AND pedicure at a local salon. In a word, GLORIOUS. No matter how wonderful the friends that take on my kids are, that much time always makes me feel guilty for the person stuck with my kids (I know, most people feel guilty being away from their kids -- I feel guilty for laying the responsibility for them at another person's feet). But I did decide that I would probably be a happier and healthier person if I got a massage on a regular basis. Oh, and poorer, I'm thinkin'. But it made yesterday a wonderful and relaxing day.
After Kenny and Abbie left last night, Troy and I piled in bed to watch TV just for minute before we went to sleep. I woke up at about 11 with the TV on and Troy next to me snoring -- which he NEVER does unless he is just wiped out. I turned off the TV and Troy and I woke up a little more than 11 hours later. Again, a glorious Saturday! I'm thinking we needed a little baseball detox and sleep -- and we got both.
This summer one of my many projects is to teach my children to cook a few meals -- so that when school starts mom can have one night a week off of cooking and let them handle it. So, as a trade-off/ reward for that, I decided that I would make dessert on the nights that they cook. As I remember, I will try to post recipes on my recipe blog. Last week, Riley missed all the fun of cooking (baseball practice -- go figure) so Ashley made us a most yummy spaghetti meal. I made Strawberry Daquiri Dessert. I'm not sentimental about food on a regular basis, but this is one of the last desserts -- if not THE last -- that my mother-in-law made before she died (this is one of those "freaky memory" facts that Troy will roll his eyes that I know). I have the recipe scribbled in the back of the notebook I was using as a prayer journal during that time. She was an AMAZING cook. She was not a very open person about her feelings, but she showed her love through her efforts in the kitchen. I will never measure up in that regard and have long since quit trying.
ANYWAY -- Strawberry Daquiri Dessert. Most yummy -- and Ashley, the queen of mispronunciation, calls it "Strawberry Dukey-airy" making it sound much less appetizing. Tonight the kids are making homemade pizza for us -- one of our family's favorite. I'll put the recipe for the crust on the recipe blog, as well. So I made a dessert I saw in Family Circle while standing in line waiting to check out. Our layered ice cream cake is still in the process of being made, but it has ice cream sandwiches in it -- how bad can it be?
Happy Saturday to all!
Thursday
Observations for the Week
- In Sarah's Happy Universe, only coaches who talk nicely to their players are allowed to win. Thus far this week, my rule has prevailed. We lost tonight, thus ending our own Little League Hell Week. But we lost to a team whose coach talks nicely to his players, so it was okay.
- There is little as heartbreaking as seeing the pitcher cry. Unless maybe it's seeing the first baseman crying. While the shortstop is crying. And soon the third baseman is crying. We did not go down gracefully, folks.
- This is how we warmed up for our games.
And thus it should be. Thank you, Coach Brady. - People spit a lot at lunch meetings.
- Someone else applying sunscreen to my back is a fairly intimate occurrence. It really bothers me to ask an acquaintance to help. I will contort myself into all sorts of crazy manners to avoid asking for help.
- In old news, I just saw a clip tonight from Don Cheadle's, of Hotel Rwanda fame, press conference when he met with Kofi Annan in December about the violence in the Darfur region in Africa. I loved this quote: "The problem is not getting better, it's worsening," Cheadle said. "you don't control your papers I know, the editors (do). But we need to press that these stories not be small paragraphs on page 17 but that they at least have as much time as Britney Spears not wearing underwear." He has an excellent point.
- And today we could add: "... or where Paris Hilton is serving the remainder of her jail sentence."
- Hell week is over, tomorrow I teach swim lessons to the little bitties and keep my friends, Kenny and Abbie. And Saturday I sleep late. And go to the gym if I wake up in time.
Let Summer officially begin!
Wednesday
Troy Calls It Elephantine Memory
I have a freakish memory. Being as self-centered as I am, I may remember hardly anything that you TELL me, but I'll remember pretty much anything I see. Conversations that I've had come and go in my brain, but anything I've seen I won't forget. Oh, and dates. Not just important dates -- birthdays, anniversaries, etc. (this doesn't mean I ACKNOWLEDGE them, but I generally remember them) -- but you could pretty much toss out any date in the last 25 years and I'll give you a reasonable idea of what I was doing on that date, if not remember precisely what was happening in my life.
Troy remembers precious little. This combination has required much grace and mercy on both of our parts through the years, but we work with it now. It's my job to remember what's behind us, it's Troy's job to plan for what's in front of us. It works.
I knew that Ashley had a fairly accurate memory and have used it to help me on many occasions. For, as I told my children yesterday, my brain is so full of useless memory, like the lyrics to Pat Benatar's "Shadows of the Night", that I can't remember where I put my keys.
Earlier this week, Ashley's instructor for her band class next year called to set up an appointment to help her pick an instrument. After she got off the phone, the agonizing began, "I told C . that I would pick the french horn, but now I don't know. Oh, shoot! Why did I tell EVERYONE that I was going to play the french horn?"
First, I didn't know why she would tell everyone that she would play the french horn either when I don't think she could have picked one out of a line up. But I TRIED (and failed) to point out that no one would remember what she said she would play by making this illustration: "Before we continue this conversation, tell me what D. (boy in her class that got on her last nerve) was wearing the last day of school." She looked at me quizzically for about 2.2 seconds and said, "Khaki shorts and a brown and white striped polo. Why?"
*sigh* Never mind. Illustration lost on people with freakish memories.
Troy remembers precious little. This combination has required much grace and mercy on both of our parts through the years, but we work with it now. It's my job to remember what's behind us, it's Troy's job to plan for what's in front of us. It works.
I knew that Ashley had a fairly accurate memory and have used it to help me on many occasions. For, as I told my children yesterday, my brain is so full of useless memory, like the lyrics to Pat Benatar's "Shadows of the Night", that I can't remember where I put my keys.
Earlier this week, Ashley's instructor for her band class next year called to set up an appointment to help her pick an instrument. After she got off the phone, the agonizing began, "I told C . that I would pick the french horn, but now I don't know. Oh, shoot! Why did I tell EVERYONE that I was going to play the french horn?"
First, I didn't know why she would tell everyone that she would play the french horn either when I don't think she could have picked one out of a line up. But I TRIED (and failed) to point out that no one would remember what she said she would play by making this illustration: "Before we continue this conversation, tell me what D. (boy in her class that got on her last nerve) was wearing the last day of school." She looked at me quizzically for about 2.2 seconds and said, "Khaki shorts and a brown and white striped polo. Why?"
*sigh* Never mind. Illustration lost on people with freakish memories.
Tuesday
The Fun Continues
Some people call it City League Tournament. Some folks call it County Wide Tournament (which is more accurate). I'm beginning to call it Little League Hell Week.
As fraternities and sororities have a week of activities to stretch pledges to their physical and mental limits, little league has County Wide Tournament. It's a single elimination tournament that does only last one week -- Monday through Saturday. Teams travel to different sites and play on unfamiliar fields. Parents travel to small town America to realize that a clean bathroom means different things to different little leagues. Players and fans alike bathe in mosquito repellent to participate in the West Nile Virus roulette. Fans feast on rubbery nachos and lukewarm sodas to tide them over until they can eat "real food" after the game -- you know, real food like burgers, chicken strips, and fries. As the fans feast on the concession stand fare, mosquitoes feast on them.
For teachers or stay-at-home moms who don't have to go to school or work the next day it's not quite so much of a challenge, but folks who must arise and go to work the next day and/ or plan any work activities for the week have all kinds of mental obstacles. Since Troy needs to travel for his job, baseball, end-of-school activities, and plumbing/ reconstruction jihad have somewhat kept him tethered to town. This week, he has had to play the "my son may or may not have a baseball game in which he may or may not play more than 5 minutes on that night" game. I don't think it makes for very good business relations. Of course, he doesn't have the challenge of entertaining kids home from school, hyped up about this tournament business, who aren't to go swim the day of the game 'lest they wear themselves out. Considering the speed of the Tasmanian Devil tear through the house, the player isn't slowing down anytime soon. Maybe it would be safe to go to the pool.
And, just like any fraternity's hell week, as I describe this, some of you (uninitiated) are saying, "That sounds TERRIBLE. It must be awful." And, just like some crazy college kid, I would say, "No, it's awesome! You've really gotta do this sometime!"
As fraternities and sororities have a week of activities to stretch pledges to their physical and mental limits, little league has County Wide Tournament. It's a single elimination tournament that does only last one week -- Monday through Saturday. Teams travel to different sites and play on unfamiliar fields. Parents travel to small town America to realize that a clean bathroom means different things to different little leagues. Players and fans alike bathe in mosquito repellent to participate in the West Nile Virus roulette. Fans feast on rubbery nachos and lukewarm sodas to tide them over until they can eat "real food" after the game -- you know, real food like burgers, chicken strips, and fries. As the fans feast on the concession stand fare, mosquitoes feast on them.
For teachers or stay-at-home moms who don't have to go to school or work the next day it's not quite so much of a challenge, but folks who must arise and go to work the next day and/ or plan any work activities for the week have all kinds of mental obstacles. Since Troy needs to travel for his job, baseball, end-of-school activities, and plumbing/ reconstruction jihad have somewhat kept him tethered to town. This week, he has had to play the "my son may or may not have a baseball game in which he may or may not play more than 5 minutes on that night" game. I don't think it makes for very good business relations. Of course, he doesn't have the challenge of entertaining kids home from school, hyped up about this tournament business, who aren't to go swim the day of the game 'lest they wear themselves out. Considering the speed of the Tasmanian Devil tear through the house, the player isn't slowing down anytime soon. Maybe it would be safe to go to the pool.
And, just like any fraternity's hell week, as I describe this, some of you (uninitiated) are saying, "That sounds TERRIBLE. It must be awful." And, just like some crazy college kid, I would say, "No, it's awesome! You've really gotta do this sometime!"
Monday
Dollar Tree Fun
Why is Riley sitting in the middle of the hall and why is my linen closet door open so that I will bonk my head on the door as I walk by? 
Oh, well, of course. It's the army guys defending the towels from evil stains and smelly feet.
Bag of army guys from Dollar Tree -- $1
Oh, well, of course. It's the army guys defending the towels from evil stains and smelly feet.
Bag of army guys from Dollar Tree -- $1Hours of argue-free fun in the hall on a drizzly summer morning -- priceless.
Updated to add: I've had several comments on the floor and, if you haven't stopped by, this is the wood floor that is my living and dining room and now hall (we had wood floors in the LR and DR before, but nasty carpet in the hall). Pretty much exactly where the Tinkertoy canister is is where the trough went from left to right across the hall during the plumbing excavation. Yes, the wood floor is MUCH better than a trough.
Updated to add: I've had several comments on the floor and, if you haven't stopped by, this is the wood floor that is my living and dining room and now hall (we had wood floors in the LR and DR before, but nasty carpet in the hall). Pretty much exactly where the Tinkertoy canister is is where the trough went from left to right across the hall during the plumbing excavation. Yes, the wood floor is MUCH better than a trough.
Sunday
His Grace Reaches Me
Last (school) year when Riley was in 2nd grade, he began having homework on a regular basis. It was fairly quick and painless, and the point was simply to get in the habit of doing homework. Only since Riley's crummy mom was drowning in a new job, Riley began to get in the habit of doing his homework standing at the breakfast table with his backpack on his back at 7:54 a.m. as we were all trying to get out the door for school/work. For a few weeks, I simply told him that he really needed to be doing that when we first got home, blah,-blah-Charlie-Brown-teacher-speak.
So, I reverted to speaking Riley's language: "Riley, if you don't do your homework in the afternoon, you'll be grounded from TV for 2 days. If you forget again, you'll be grounded from TV for a WEEK." Truthfully, I don't remember now if there was a 2-strike opportunity, but I do know, since I don't make idle threats, that at some point there would probably be a TV-less Riley moping about the house for a week. And there was. It was a long, yet effective week. Riley did great about remembering his homework after that!
Even after Christmas break, he did really well about coming straight home and getting his homework done!! Until... (Riley has a drama effect "dun-dun-dunnnnnnnnn" that would be appropriate here) One afternoon I had to pick the kids up from school and promptly take them to Troy's office so that I could go to a meeting (or something long since forgotten). I got home later and started the dinner-making, heading-to-bed shuffle that is standard for school nights.
The next morning we were doing the gathering-the-backpacks/lunches, heading-to-school shuffle that is standard for school mornings, when I noticed Riley a little more purposeful than usual gathering his things. He headed out to the car, then returned, got a pencil, then said, "I'll be in the car." I knew. Because I'm a mom with not only those eyeballs in the back of my head but that pesky ESP that cuts through the fluff with the kids, I knew. I knew he was headed to do his homework in the car. But I made the parental decision to look the other way and act like I didn't. Partly because I didn't want to deal with it and partly because I felt bad that our crazy schedule/ life had messed up Riley's homework routine.
So I finally piled into the car and both of the kids were already in the car (I have since figured out that I'm sure Ashley caught Riley and threatened to tell, but my ESP is fuzzy on that point). I backed the car out of the driveway trying to make faux lighthearted talk, but the tension was tangible in the backseat. Ashley encourages/admonishes: "Riley, you'll feel better if you just tell." (Mom is thinking, "Please don't tell, please don't tell, I don't want to mess with it!") Finally Riley spoke up: "Mom?" (bottom lip quivering uncontrollably)
Mom: "Yes, sweetie?"
Riley: (lip still quivering) "I forgot to do my homework yesterday and (sniff) I was doing it this morning in the car."
Mom: (feigning ignorance so as not to divulge my ESP powers) "Well, hmmmm. You know what's supposed to happen, right?"
Riley: (crying for real) "Yessss (sob, sob)"
Mom: "Well, do you know what grace is?
Riley: "No."
Mom: "Grace is forgiveness we don't deserve. God extends grace to me every day because He loves me so much. For this occurrence, I am going to give you grace -- forgiveness." (There was some banter in there about what exactly that meant and, more importantly, would Riley be able to watch TV that afternoon). "But Riley?"
Riley: "Yes?"
Mom: "God's grace is without limits. Mine is NOT."
And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work. 2 Corinthians 9:8
Riley, my love, may you abound in every good work, have all that you need, and know God's abundant grace.
So, I reverted to speaking Riley's language: "Riley, if you don't do your homework in the afternoon, you'll be grounded from TV for 2 days. If you forget again, you'll be grounded from TV for a WEEK." Truthfully, I don't remember now if there was a 2-strike opportunity, but I do know, since I don't make idle threats, that at some point there would probably be a TV-less Riley moping about the house for a week. And there was. It was a long, yet effective week. Riley did great about remembering his homework after that!
Even after Christmas break, he did really well about coming straight home and getting his homework done!! Until... (Riley has a drama effect "dun-dun-dunnnnnnnnn" that would be appropriate here) One afternoon I had to pick the kids up from school and promptly take them to Troy's office so that I could go to a meeting (or something long since forgotten). I got home later and started the dinner-making, heading-to-bed shuffle that is standard for school nights.
The next morning we were doing the gathering-the-backpacks/lunches, heading-to-school shuffle that is standard for school mornings, when I noticed Riley a little more purposeful than usual gathering his things. He headed out to the car, then returned, got a pencil, then said, "I'll be in the car." I knew. Because I'm a mom with not only those eyeballs in the back of my head but that pesky ESP that cuts through the fluff with the kids, I knew. I knew he was headed to do his homework in the car. But I made the parental decision to look the other way and act like I didn't. Partly because I didn't want to deal with it and partly because I felt bad that our crazy schedule/ life had messed up Riley's homework routine.
So I finally piled into the car and both of the kids were already in the car (I have since figured out that I'm sure Ashley caught Riley and threatened to tell, but my ESP is fuzzy on that point). I backed the car out of the driveway trying to make faux lighthearted talk, but the tension was tangible in the backseat. Ashley encourages/admonishes: "Riley, you'll feel better if you just tell." (Mom is thinking, "Please don't tell, please don't tell, I don't want to mess with it!") Finally Riley spoke up: "Mom?" (bottom lip quivering uncontrollably)
Mom: "Yes, sweetie?"
Riley: (lip still quivering) "I forgot to do my homework yesterday and (sniff) I was doing it this morning in the car."
Mom: (feigning ignorance so as not to divulge my ESP powers) "Well, hmmmm. You know what's supposed to happen, right?"
Riley: (crying for real) "Yessss (sob, sob)"
Mom: "Well, do you know what grace is?
Riley: "No."
Mom: "Grace is forgiveness we don't deserve. God extends grace to me every day because He loves me so much. For this occurrence, I am going to give you grace -- forgiveness." (There was some banter in there about what exactly that meant and, more importantly, would Riley be able to watch TV that afternoon). "But Riley?"
Riley: "Yes?"
Mom: "God's grace is without limits. Mine is NOT."
And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work. 2 Corinthians 9:8
Riley, my love, may you abound in every good work, have all that you need, and know God's abundant grace.
Friday
Some Great Reads
I'm sorry I missed this ACU graduation. Dr. Beck had some valuable things to say.
If I had been this articulate when I graduated from college, I might have said this. But I doubt it. Some of that I'm still learning ("there is absolutely no joy to be found in choosing to be mediocre").
If I had been this articulate when I graduated from college, I might have said this. But I doubt it. Some of that I'm still learning ("there is absolutely no joy to be found in choosing to be mediocre").
Thursday
I've Got Nothin'
So I've been to the pool. Once. The water is almost completely thawed and, evidently, after you're in for a while, your body is completely numb and the cold doesn't bother you -- but your blue lips belie your image of comfort.
Gals, THIS is MUST READ. I love when a well-known figure allows us to see that she is human, nay, she is WOMAN. I'm trying to get an image of Beth Moore standing in Walgreen's with two econo-size boxes of feminine hygiene products. If it were me I may have had a huge box of Hot Tamales to go with it.
Yes, still loving being back in my house. We are just settled enough that I don't HAVE to get all of the contents of the hall closet out of my bedroom -- unless I would like to open and close my armoire doors without flipping down a box top. Much to do, even time to do it, no gumption.
I think I need to read The Secret Sisters.
The kids are currently watching ESPN (against my "No TV prior to 4 p.m. rule") in hopes of catching a glimpse of our friend, Matt Phillips, who is in Washington, D.C. for the National Spelling Bee. We understand that he didn't make it to the finals (that's a rumor I've only heard from people under 12 in my home, so I could be wrong about that) but ESPN is supposed to do a feature on him. Matt has Osteogenesis Imperfecta, which you and I know as Brittle Bone Disease. He doesn't let it slow him down, and his parents have done a PHENOMENAL job of creating normalcy in their family where none exists. I look up to them so much and am honored to know them.
Baseball is still in full swing. The Express (our little league team) is going to the city league tournament. Next week we'll be playing in Merkel, America. Can't wait! We had a great little game against our toughest opponent Tuesday night. We played hard and scrambled back. The scoreboard showed that we lost 7-6, but we won on so many levels. It was one of those fun baseball games. See you at the ball park!
My M&M -- she's stylin'!
Gals, THIS is MUST READ. I love when a well-known figure allows us to see that she is human, nay, she is WOMAN. I'm trying to get an image of Beth Moore standing in Walgreen's with two econo-size boxes of feminine hygiene products. If it were me I may have had a huge box of Hot Tamales to go with it.
Yes, still loving being back in my house. We are just settled enough that I don't HAVE to get all of the contents of the hall closet out of my bedroom -- unless I would like to open and close my armoire doors without flipping down a box top. Much to do, even time to do it, no gumption.
I think I need to read The Secret Sisters.
The kids are currently watching ESPN (against my "No TV prior to 4 p.m. rule") in hopes of catching a glimpse of our friend, Matt Phillips, who is in Washington, D.C. for the National Spelling Bee. We understand that he didn't make it to the finals (that's a rumor I've only heard from people under 12 in my home, so I could be wrong about that) but ESPN is supposed to do a feature on him. Matt has Osteogenesis Imperfecta, which you and I know as Brittle Bone Disease. He doesn't let it slow him down, and his parents have done a PHENOMENAL job of creating normalcy in their family where none exists. I look up to them so much and am honored to know them.
Baseball is still in full swing. The Express (our little league team) is going to the city league tournament. Next week we'll be playing in Merkel, America. Can't wait! We had a great little game against our toughest opponent Tuesday night. We played hard and scrambled back. The scoreboard showed that we lost 7-6, but we won on so many levels. It was one of those fun baseball games. See you at the ball park!
My M&M -- she's stylin'!
Monday
When Blogging becomes Procrastination
Yes, it is officially summer, although the '78*' reading on my computer is more of a spring break reading -- but I'm NOT complaining. What weird, wonderful weather we're having in West Texas (this sentence brought to you by the letter 'W'). I have truly enjoyed our rainy spring and I KNOW it won't last, so I'm not quite ready for it to be over.
Even though it's the time to sit out by the pool with your buds and relax, I'm not exactly in relaxing mode. I guess when you keep the pedal to the metal on the accelerator of your life for 6 solid weeks, it's best to coast to a slow roll instead of slamming on the brakes. My only guideline for what I'm doing around the house is doing exactly what I want to do, which is why I haven't been blogging. There's just too much around me screaming that it needs to be done! So I have a list longer than my arm of what all needs to be done and I just flit from item to item and do what I feel like at the moment. Except for today, when I lay in bed with a headache until noon, at which time I felt it necessary to get up to throw up, then head back to bed until 3. I did NOT want to do any of that, but it was definitely necessary. After I finally emerged, Troy was complaining about how little he got done on his day off. I scoffed while I stood there in my jammies with bed-head at 3 p.m.
I'm saying this via-blog and running: but I'm not quite all that fired up about sitting out at the pool this summer. I'm sure I WILL be in a few weeks, but right now I can only see what all needs to be done in my home and sitting at the pool feels like wasted time to me. I'm sure that after a few days of either trying to get my children a) on board with working on or in the house or b) out of my way, an afternoon of sitting by the pool will feel glorious. Until then, it feels like wasted time.
Even though it's the time to sit out by the pool with your buds and relax, I'm not exactly in relaxing mode. I guess when you keep the pedal to the metal on the accelerator of your life for 6 solid weeks, it's best to coast to a slow roll instead of slamming on the brakes. My only guideline for what I'm doing around the house is doing exactly what I want to do, which is why I haven't been blogging. There's just too much around me screaming that it needs to be done! So I have a list longer than my arm of what all needs to be done and I just flit from item to item and do what I feel like at the moment. Except for today, when I lay in bed with a headache until noon, at which time I felt it necessary to get up to throw up, then head back to bed until 3. I did NOT want to do any of that, but it was definitely necessary. After I finally emerged, Troy was complaining about how little he got done on his day off. I scoffed while I stood there in my jammies with bed-head at 3 p.m.
I'm saying this via-blog and running: but I'm not quite all that fired up about sitting out at the pool this summer. I'm sure I WILL be in a few weeks, but right now I can only see what all needs to be done in my home and sitting at the pool feels like wasted time to me. I'm sure that after a few days of either trying to get my children a) on board with working on or in the house or b) out of my way, an afternoon of sitting by the pool will feel glorious. Until then, it feels like wasted time.
Wednesday
Back At Home...
Oh, there should be much fanfare and excitement. But there is only concrete dust and boxes. Yes, it is GLORIOUS to sleep in my own bed -- and not within 2 feet of one of my children. Yes, it is GLORIOUS to have my pantry and 'fridge full of food to choose from, or not, for dinner. But we still have much to do before it completely feels like home. And, when we relayed a new plumbing problem to our insurance adjustor, he asked, "Is the wall where the problem is already closed up? Oh, that's what I was afraid of." Cutting into my sheetrock AGAIN is definitely NOT in my happy place.
Much to do and much to tell about end of school and the most fabulous bubble day ever but it is late, I still have two days of teaching/ battle in Room 24, and the concrete dust that has filled my nostrils and lungs is giving me fits and I am not entirely well.
Just wanted to post a quick, "We're here!"
Much to do and much to tell about end of school and the most fabulous bubble day ever but it is late, I still have two days of teaching/ battle in Room 24, and the concrete dust that has filled my nostrils and lungs is giving me fits and I am not entirely well.
Just wanted to post a quick, "We're here!"
Sunday
Hotel Chatter
Oddly enough, I am finding these few days living in the hotel to be some precious moments with my kids. I don't often get to see them blink awake in the morning -- oh, I wake them up, but when I leave the room to hustle on my way, they still have their eyes closed and are moaning unintelligibly. I don't often get to hear them sigh as they roll over in their sleep -- I am frequently reminded of the tiny little bodies that did that what seems to be last week. And I am tickled to be reminded of their morning personalities. Ashley greets the day much like she greets the rest of life -- full of gusto, chatter, and cheerfulness. Riley needs to ponder life and let sleep slowly slide off of him before he can face life (much like his momma).
But he evidently is thinkin' as he awakes (unlike his momma). Friday morning he woke up, blinked at the window for several minutes, then finally turned to me:
"Mom, knock knock."
Mom: "Who's there?"
Riley: "An interrupting parrot."
Mom: "An interrup..."
Riley: "SQUAWK!"
THAT totally cracked me up!
Later, at a further stage of dress and awake, he was singing that well-loved (or not) old folk song, "There's a hole in the bucket". He made it through several verses, and poor Liza wasn't getting any closer to a repaired bucket than the first verse. He finally said, "That song just goes on and on and on and on... I think he just doesn't want to fix the bucket."
That Riley is always getting to the bottom of things!
But he evidently is thinkin' as he awakes (unlike his momma). Friday morning he woke up, blinked at the window for several minutes, then finally turned to me:
"Mom, knock knock."
Mom: "Who's there?"
Riley: "An interrupting parrot."
Mom: "An interrup..."
Riley: "SQUAWK!"
THAT totally cracked me up!
Later, at a further stage of dress and awake, he was singing that well-loved (or not) old folk song, "There's a hole in the bucket". He made it through several verses, and poor Liza wasn't getting any closer to a repaired bucket than the first verse. He finally said, "That song just goes on and on and on and on... I think he just doesn't want to fix the bucket."
That Riley is always getting to the bottom of things!
Thursday
Defining Moments
(note: the following article was printed in my local 'Abilene Families', but the last two sentences were omitted. For your reading enjoyment, or not:)
As a mother, you would think that I would be all about Mother’s Day – a day just for ME, a day to get, get, get, and a day when praise is lavished on all mothers. Who could ask for anything more? Truthfully, mother’s day – especially the Hallmark version of it – makes me very uncomfortable. You know which kind of image I’m talking about – a young mother, clad in a pristine white gown in an immaculate, beautifully decorated home, holding a perfectly chubby, cooing baby as they gaze into each other’s eyes. The poetry accompanying the image details the sacrifices the loving mother makes and how wonderful she is and on and on and on. I simply can’t relate: My home has never been immaculate OR decorated, I learned a long time ago not to wear white while holding a child of any age, and I regret how much time I didn’t spend gazing at my babies before they transformed into galloping toddlers, now pre-teens.
The words are what make me squirm the most. Mothers are not defined by the Hallmark moments, but by the horrible moments. Anybody loves to play with a giggling baby or rambunctious toddler, but it’s mom who cleans up when potty-training is not quite successful. It’s mom wiping heads and doing laundry and providing a clean basin when the stomach virus tears through the house at 3 a.m. It’s mom holding constant vigil at a hospital bedside or waiting room. It’s mom lifting, feeding, bathing, and caring for a handicapped child day in and day out. It’s mom wearing a trough in the carpet next to her bed as she kneels for a child who has lost their way or is fighting in harm’s way or whose heart is broken beyond repair. I don’t know of any woman who would ask to be put in any of those situations, but those are the moments that define motherhood. We don’t want praise or pretty words about things we do that we would rather not do. It’s just what we do. It’s being a mom.
While these flowery thoughts and sentiments make me somewhat uncomfortable, they can be downright painful for many people. Mothers who must wait until they get to heaven to hug their child again, mothers who selflessly blessed an adoptive family with their own baby, mothers whose only children are really nieces, nephews, and friends since life has not brought her children of her own and countless other situations can bring pain and disappointment to this day of celebration.
As you think of the women you know that you would consider “extraordinary mothers”, they are probably women making it just one day at a time in extraordinary situations. You probably don’t call to mind a mom of two healthy children with a healthy spouse still living in the home. You probably don’t think of someone like, well, me. The extraordinary mothers we know may have many children raising them all to be successful individuals, may have handicapped or chronically ill children, may have lost a child, or may go to great lengths for her children to have normalcy in the midst of difficult life circumstances. Few of these women would want the accolades or flowery words of a Hallmark commercial. They are simply putting one foot in front of the other because another being in this life depends on it. It’s just what we do. It’s being a mom.
I can’t speak for all moms, but as much as I love words, I don’t want to hear many about what kind of mom I am on Mother’s Day. For me, it simply reminds me of all the places I fall short or what a bad attitude I occasionally have while doing what I do – being a mom. Oh, sure, I won’t turn down any gifts – diamonds are my favorite, sapphire is my birthstone, and if you’re buying a ring remember that my fingers are crazy skinny – but if you need to use any words, a simple, “Thanks for what you do” will suffice, and I wouldn’t mind hearing that once a week. Not saying, “But I don’t want to” when asked to do your job would be nice, because I rarely want to cook your dinner or fold your clothes, but it’s what I do. It’s being a mom. And, most of all, just grow up to make your momma proud.
Unfortunately, in the past year, my children have been acquainted with several children who have lost a parent to death. Knowing that anything can happen, I have been reminded at those times to let my children know what I want most for them out of life. At one point we were driving and discussing a child who had lost a parent and how hard that would be. I said, “If anything ever happens to me, first I want you to know how much I love you. And all I want for you in life is to love the Lord and to marry someone who loves the Lord.”
This brought a know-it-all nod from one child who said in a satisfied tone, “I knew you were going to say that.”
Very well, then. Carry on. That’s all I need to know for a happy Mother’s Day!
As a mother, you would think that I would be all about Mother’s Day – a day just for ME, a day to get, get, get, and a day when praise is lavished on all mothers. Who could ask for anything more? Truthfully, mother’s day – especially the Hallmark version of it – makes me very uncomfortable. You know which kind of image I’m talking about – a young mother, clad in a pristine white gown in an immaculate, beautifully decorated home, holding a perfectly chubby, cooing baby as they gaze into each other’s eyes. The poetry accompanying the image details the sacrifices the loving mother makes and how wonderful she is and on and on and on. I simply can’t relate: My home has never been immaculate OR decorated, I learned a long time ago not to wear white while holding a child of any age, and I regret how much time I didn’t spend gazing at my babies before they transformed into galloping toddlers, now pre-teens.
The words are what make me squirm the most. Mothers are not defined by the Hallmark moments, but by the horrible moments. Anybody loves to play with a giggling baby or rambunctious toddler, but it’s mom who cleans up when potty-training is not quite successful. It’s mom wiping heads and doing laundry and providing a clean basin when the stomach virus tears through the house at 3 a.m. It’s mom holding constant vigil at a hospital bedside or waiting room. It’s mom lifting, feeding, bathing, and caring for a handicapped child day in and day out. It’s mom wearing a trough in the carpet next to her bed as she kneels for a child who has lost their way or is fighting in harm’s way or whose heart is broken beyond repair. I don’t know of any woman who would ask to be put in any of those situations, but those are the moments that define motherhood. We don’t want praise or pretty words about things we do that we would rather not do. It’s just what we do. It’s being a mom.
While these flowery thoughts and sentiments make me somewhat uncomfortable, they can be downright painful for many people. Mothers who must wait until they get to heaven to hug their child again, mothers who selflessly blessed an adoptive family with their own baby, mothers whose only children are really nieces, nephews, and friends since life has not brought her children of her own and countless other situations can bring pain and disappointment to this day of celebration.
As you think of the women you know that you would consider “extraordinary mothers”, they are probably women making it just one day at a time in extraordinary situations. You probably don’t call to mind a mom of two healthy children with a healthy spouse still living in the home. You probably don’t think of someone like, well, me. The extraordinary mothers we know may have many children raising them all to be successful individuals, may have handicapped or chronically ill children, may have lost a child, or may go to great lengths for her children to have normalcy in the midst of difficult life circumstances. Few of these women would want the accolades or flowery words of a Hallmark commercial. They are simply putting one foot in front of the other because another being in this life depends on it. It’s just what we do. It’s being a mom.
I can’t speak for all moms, but as much as I love words, I don’t want to hear many about what kind of mom I am on Mother’s Day. For me, it simply reminds me of all the places I fall short or what a bad attitude I occasionally have while doing what I do – being a mom. Oh, sure, I won’t turn down any gifts – diamonds are my favorite, sapphire is my birthstone, and if you’re buying a ring remember that my fingers are crazy skinny – but if you need to use any words, a simple, “Thanks for what you do” will suffice, and I wouldn’t mind hearing that once a week. Not saying, “But I don’t want to” when asked to do your job would be nice, because I rarely want to cook your dinner or fold your clothes, but it’s what I do. It’s being a mom. And, most of all, just grow up to make your momma proud.
Unfortunately, in the past year, my children have been acquainted with several children who have lost a parent to death. Knowing that anything can happen, I have been reminded at those times to let my children know what I want most for them out of life. At one point we were driving and discussing a child who had lost a parent and how hard that would be. I said, “If anything ever happens to me, first I want you to know how much I love you. And all I want for you in life is to love the Lord and to marry someone who loves the Lord.”
This brought a know-it-all nod from one child who said in a satisfied tone, “I knew you were going to say that.”
Very well, then. Carry on. That’s all I need to know for a happy Mother’s Day!
Wednesday
Random Thoughts for a Rainy Wednesday
This scares the b'jabbers out of me.
If I would spend half as much time thinking about what I was about to say as I spend apologizing for something I have already said, I wouldn't NEED to apologize quite so much!
I've never run a marathon, but I'm guessing in the put-the-Stirman-house-aright marathon (there's a t-shirt I need!) we are about at mile 11 -- wondering why in heaven's name we signed up for this gig and realizing in no uncertain terms that the worst is yet to come. Oddly enough, I feel certain that Monday we were at least at mile 14 and we've spent the last two days going backwards. About a week, people. About a week.
Only because I know my blog audience, I would like to send a memo to a certain technology-type-person:
Technology is great,
Technology is grand,
Technology is always there to lend a hand. (at this point even the 2nd grade level poetry runs out)
My campus loves technology, my district loves technology, and I use all $47 worth of technology in my classroom to the fullest! I am whole-heartedly on board with technology and wish the budget-powers-that-be were, as well.
That said, PLEASE don't make me take any more surveys about technology. My plate is full of other things currently.
If I would spend half as much time thinking about what I was about to say as I spend apologizing for something I have already said, I wouldn't NEED to apologize quite so much!
I've never run a marathon, but I'm guessing in the put-the-Stirman-house-aright marathon (there's a t-shirt I need!) we are about at mile 11 -- wondering why in heaven's name we signed up for this gig and realizing in no uncertain terms that the worst is yet to come. Oddly enough, I feel certain that Monday we were at least at mile 14 and we've spent the last two days going backwards. About a week, people. About a week.
Only because I know my blog audience, I would like to send a memo to a certain technology-type-person:
Technology is great,
Technology is grand,
Technology is always there to lend a hand. (at this point even the 2nd grade level poetry runs out)
My campus loves technology, my district loves technology, and I use all $47 worth of technology in my classroom to the fullest! I am whole-heartedly on board with technology and wish the budget-powers-that-be were, as well.
That said, PLEASE don't make me take any more surveys about technology. My plate is full of other things currently.
Tuesday
Question for the Day...
Tomorrow is one month since my house troubles began. Thursday is three weeks that we have not lived in our home. Currently in my 800-square foot domicile the TV blares in the other room – it seems there is some sort of military calamity transpiring – while one child next to me will only cease their running monologue narrating life long enough to listen to the chatter of the Gameboy.
After the day I had in Room 24, this is not a relaxing place for me and oh, how I long to run and hide from the auditory assault. But all my punkin’s are here and safe. Talking incessantly, but safe.
I had forgotten, but it is perfectly logical, that it takes way longer to put a house back together than it does to destroy it. And, at my house, it seems we take one step forward on the putting together, but there is always more destruction to be done. There was more concrete dust flying at my house today. I guess there were 3 square inches in the back of the house not covered in concrete dust.
BST asks some great questions on his blog. Not having seen Jeff Walling’s new haircut, I can’t really speak to that one, but I thought this was a great question:
Can people really experience the fullness of joy without walking through intense sorrow?
What do you think?
After the day I had in Room 24, this is not a relaxing place for me and oh, how I long to run and hide from the auditory assault. But all my punkin’s are here and safe. Talking incessantly, but safe.
I had forgotten, but it is perfectly logical, that it takes way longer to put a house back together than it does to destroy it. And, at my house, it seems we take one step forward on the putting together, but there is always more destruction to be done. There was more concrete dust flying at my house today. I guess there were 3 square inches in the back of the house not covered in concrete dust.
BST asks some great questions on his blog. Not having seen Jeff Walling’s new haircut, I can’t really speak to that one, but I thought this was a great question:
Can people really experience the fullness of joy without walking through intense sorrow?
What do you think?
Thursday
It was a shirt!
Remember I thought it was going to be tile? I thought some sort of minor housing detail would be what would finally send me over the edge. But, no, it was an article of clothing. This evening was the area- wide 5th grade track meet. Ashley ran and, of course, did us proud!
However, it occurred to me at 4 this morning that she probably needed some specific shirt to wear for this event. So, on her rising, I asked. “Oh, yeah…” was the response. “I think a few weeks ago Mr. Graham said we needed to wear our ‘Just Say No’ shirts.” “Didn’t you get a note about it?” “No, I was with PALS at Mr. Gatti’s during PE yesterday. I saw everyone else coming back with one, but I didn’t get one.”
So far, no sweat. I’ve seen the ‘Just Say No’ shirt recently. It’s in our bedroom, close to the top of her pile of clothes we moved to our bedroom to avoid concrete dust. So, Troy took her by the house on the way to school to find the shirt. It’s all good.
So, as a side note in an email this morning, Troy mentioned, “Also, we found a camo shirt for Ashley in our bedroom but it wasn't THE shirt she was looking for. She says she can make it work.”
Um, no. It will NOT work. Because I said so, that’s why. I start making plans to go to the house to look for it at the house during my conference time. But first it occurs to me to ask the counselor at Ashley’s school if they have any extra shirts that they could throw on her, so I send an email.
I’m not hearing from the counselor, so since Troy was going to meet “tile guy” at the house at lunch, I asked him to please look for me.
His reply, “Babe, I went in with her and pulled all that stuff- it's not there.” I can’t print MY reply to that revelation. I am on a non-stop quest to get my child the right shirt. I can feel the entire façade of my calmness and cheeriness collapsing around this one shirt.
Troy tried to reassure me: “Don't sweat it, she was REALLY fine with wearing the other shirt......” To which I replied, “I know SHE is fine with it, and the rest of the world is fine with it, but i'm freaking b/c not only is keeping everyone calm my job, getting everyone what they need is my job. Getting everyone where they are supposed to be and having what all they need is my job and I'm not doing my job. I know I'm doing the best I can, but I failed on this one and I'm not getting past it. And when I see her tonight in her "make it work" shirt, and everyone else has on the right shirt, I will be reminded that I didn't do my job. Like I said, this is just the little drop that is making me run over...”
I was freaking, I KNEW I was freaking, but somehow Ashley in that shirt was going to make our family appear as if we had it all together, and I could NOT rest until I got her in one. Still not hearing from the counselor. Took my class to lunch and called the counselor to see if she had gotten my email (HELLO??? Life crisis, here! PLEASE respond!!) Left voice mail with counselor. Called school secretary, who, I think, is aware of my crumbling house, looking for the school counselor. She gave me her best, “Please don’t go postal over a shirt” voice and promised she would have counselor check her voice mail.
I returned from lunch to an email from the counselor: “I got her one.” Indeed, heavens opened and smiled on me just in that instance – and shortly after that Troy called all giddy about tile guy AND some other flooring, as well. We were starting to be put back together. Life would go on.
P.S. Meet Ashley at the track meet where she is in the same shirt she left the hotel in this morning. “Didn’t Mrs. Holder get you a shirt?” I ask, incredulously. “Yeah,” she said, “but it’s so hot. I’m just going to run in this one.” Her daddy encouraged her to re-think that choice before every last vein popped out of my forehead. The world returned to its axis as my first-born donned a camo shirt with neon orange writing on it. Sometimes it truly is the little things.
However, it occurred to me at 4 this morning that she probably needed some specific shirt to wear for this event. So, on her rising, I asked. “Oh, yeah…” was the response. “I think a few weeks ago Mr. Graham said we needed to wear our ‘Just Say No’ shirts.” “Didn’t you get a note about it?” “No, I was with PALS at Mr. Gatti’s during PE yesterday. I saw everyone else coming back with one, but I didn’t get one.”
So far, no sweat. I’ve seen the ‘Just Say No’ shirt recently. It’s in our bedroom, close to the top of her pile of clothes we moved to our bedroom to avoid concrete dust. So, Troy took her by the house on the way to school to find the shirt. It’s all good.
So, as a side note in an email this morning, Troy mentioned, “Also, we found a camo shirt for Ashley in our bedroom but it wasn't THE shirt she was looking for. She says she can make it work.”
Um, no. It will NOT work. Because I said so, that’s why. I start making plans to go to the house to look for it at the house during my conference time. But first it occurs to me to ask the counselor at Ashley’s school if they have any extra shirts that they could throw on her, so I send an email.
I’m not hearing from the counselor, so since Troy was going to meet “tile guy” at the house at lunch, I asked him to please look for me.
His reply, “Babe, I went in with her and pulled all that stuff- it's not there.” I can’t print MY reply to that revelation. I am on a non-stop quest to get my child the right shirt. I can feel the entire façade of my calmness and cheeriness collapsing around this one shirt.
Troy tried to reassure me: “Don't sweat it, she was REALLY fine with wearing the other shirt......” To which I replied, “I know SHE is fine with it, and the rest of the world is fine with it, but i'm freaking b/c not only is keeping everyone calm my job, getting everyone what they need is my job. Getting everyone where they are supposed to be and having what all they need is my job and I'm not doing my job. I know I'm doing the best I can, but I failed on this one and I'm not getting past it. And when I see her tonight in her "make it work" shirt, and everyone else has on the right shirt, I will be reminded that I didn't do my job. Like I said, this is just the little drop that is making me run over...”
I was freaking, I KNEW I was freaking, but somehow Ashley in that shirt was going to make our family appear as if we had it all together, and I could NOT rest until I got her in one. Still not hearing from the counselor. Took my class to lunch and called the counselor to see if she had gotten my email (HELLO??? Life crisis, here! PLEASE respond!!) Left voice mail with counselor. Called school secretary, who, I think, is aware of my crumbling house, looking for the school counselor. She gave me her best, “Please don’t go postal over a shirt” voice and promised she would have counselor check her voice mail.
I returned from lunch to an email from the counselor: “I got her one.” Indeed, heavens opened and smiled on me just in that instance – and shortly after that Troy called all giddy about tile guy AND some other flooring, as well. We were starting to be put back together. Life would go on.
P.S. Meet Ashley at the track meet where she is in the same shirt she left the hotel in this morning. “Didn’t Mrs. Holder get you a shirt?” I ask, incredulously. “Yeah,” she said, “but it’s so hot. I’m just going to run in this one.” Her daddy encouraged her to re-think that choice before every last vein popped out of my forehead. The world returned to its axis as my first-born donned a camo shirt with neon orange writing on it. Sometimes it truly is the little things.
Second Grade Quote for the Day:
Introducing the cursive capital 'Y':
"Cool! Now we can write 'universe'!"
Huh? Do you mean "you-niverse"??
"Cool! Now we can write 'universe'!"
Huh? Do you mean "you-niverse"??
Saturday
Top Ten Things I LOVE about Living in a Hotel
10. Confusing my friends with caller I.D.
9. No need to give directions to pizza delivery guy.
8. Living here fits very nicely into my "happy place" which includes denial of what my home currently looks like.
7. The look on people's faces when I tell them where I'm currently living:
(Did she leave her husband? Have they been evicted? Did they lose their home?)
6. Afternoon swims
5. Happy Hour!
4. Maid service!
3. Cleaning the kitchen means throwing away the pizza box and paper plates.
2. Hot breakfasts! (that I don't touch, cook, or clean)
And the Number One Thing I LOVE about living in a hotel:
1. INDOOR PLUMBING -- and no trough down the middle of the floor!
9. No need to give directions to pizza delivery guy.
8. Living here fits very nicely into my "happy place" which includes denial of what my home currently looks like.
7. The look on people's faces when I tell them where I'm currently living:
(Did she leave her husband? Have they been evicted? Did they lose their home?)
6. Afternoon swims
5. Happy Hour!
4. Maid service!
3. Cleaning the kitchen means throwing away the pizza box and paper plates.
2. Hot breakfasts! (that I don't touch, cook, or clean)
And the Number One Thing I LOVE about living in a hotel:
1. INDOOR PLUMBING -- and no trough down the middle of the floor!
Wednesday
Happy Hour, Good Grammar, and Deadlines
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I ripped this off of Beth Moore's blog -- all in the name of sisterly encouragement, of course. I'm sure Beth won't mind! I do love it.Riley is back at school and feelin', well, not-quite-groovy, but much better.
A few funnies from today: I had to stop at Coach Brady's house to deal with some fund-raising stuff and was outside visiting. Ashley was getting antsy to leave and, at one point, yelled out, "Moooooommmmm, happy hour is almost over!" It took me a second to realize what she was talking about and I felt the need to turn to Brooke and Brady and explain: "She's talking about Happy Hour at Sonic (half-price slushes), not at the hotel." Later I realized that my need to explain was probably a little incriminating in itself!
Later, I had homework for her "s*x ed" class at school -- that is more like a self-esteem, value-yourself class thus far. I was supposed to list at least ten values that are important for me to pass along to my daughter. I confess I wanted to put, "Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength and love your neighbor as yourself," and think that pretty well covers it, but I tried to come up with 10 things. When I got Troy to help me we came up with 10 that seemed VERY redundant to me (can YOU come up with 10 different values you want to pass along to your child?) Ashley was going over the list and laughed at my #10. I tried to explain, "Punctuality goes with respect for other people and their time" (yes, it's a value I would LIKE to pass along to my children, but probably won't since it is rarely modeled for them). She is enlightened now, "Oh! I thought you were talking about using periods, commas, and quotation marks." So then I had to explain the difference between punctuation and punctuality. AND I had an 11th value I wanted to put: Good grammar.
I've had several people ask me: How much longer? I honestly don't know what they are asking -- until we can move back to our house or until our house is put back together. No matter -- I know the answer to neither. I don't mind not knowing the answer and I figure I'm probably happier not knowing -- but I feel like a bit of an idiot admitting I have no idea. I think that somewhere in there someone has told me a when -- but the only one I know for sure I've been told has already come and gone and deadline not met. So I ignore. But in my attempt to make everyone happy -- or maybe just make me look like less of an idiot -- I have decided that my answer will be, "About another week." How long until they are finished? About another week. How long will you still be living at the hotel? About another week. How long will it take for your house to be finished? About another week. Until then, I'll be poolside enjoying happy hour! :-) Sonic's OR the hotel's!
Tuesday
Coffee Group On the Road
I meant to include this in the last post, but I was horribly distracted between talk of new kitchen tile and getting the dance-off results from the kids while they observed the dinner at the hotel. So my coffee group gals hit the road this weekend. I'm going to claim being the youngest and most agile since they crammed me in the back little seat -- but I went the whole way saying (honestly) that I didn't mind and actually liked my little cubby! But what a fun trip. Oh, I am so blessed.
I do love to speak at ladies' things. Mainly, I guess, I just love to talk and I REALLY love to talk about what the Lord teaches me. Then, when I get to sit and visit with my friends and travel with them -- I'm just so blessed.
We spoke at Crossroads Retreat Center in Caldwell, Texas, which is pretty 'fur acrosst' Texas from Abilene! Beautiful, beautiful country, though! And I got to see old family -- my sisters from my congregation in Temple. What beautiful, beautiful souls they are. I am so blessed.
So, we talked and we laughed and we ate and we laughed some more. And sweet Judy drove and drove and drove some more. And we continued to laugh. All in all, a grand time was had by all.
I do love to speak at ladies' things. Mainly, I guess, I just love to talk and I REALLY love to talk about what the Lord teaches me. Then, when I get to sit and visit with my friends and travel with them -- I'm just so blessed.
We spoke at Crossroads Retreat Center in Caldwell, Texas, which is pretty 'fur acrosst' Texas from Abilene! Beautiful, beautiful country, though! And I got to see old family -- my sisters from my congregation in Temple. What beautiful, beautiful souls they are. I am so blessed.
So, we talked and we laughed and we ate and we laughed some more. And sweet Judy drove and drove and drove some more. And we continued to laugh. All in all, a grand time was had by all.
Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da, Life Goes On
The excavation of my home and foundation continues. However, I do have to confess that the bees left almost as soon as I posted about their presence. Troy says that's how they travel -- swarm, rest, swarm. Comforting, no?
The foundation of my home is laid bare and, in some cases, removed from my home. There is a hole in the hall bath about 4 feet deep. There are piles of dirt in Ashley's room that have dumped huge clods onto her carpet that is rolled to one side. Concrete dust covers every inch of my home. Obviously not in my happy place.
HOWEVER -- since last Thursday my home has been some hotel. Thursday was Best Western, then I left town, then we've been at the Elegante' Suites (formerly Embassy). My kids are eating better breakfasts than they have all year -- okay, my whole family is. Troy doesn't even have to eat lunch! Someone comes to make my beds and bring me fresh towels every day. I'm 2 for 2: days for naps. It is, indeed, all good in the 'hood!
Of course, the questions continue -- how long? how much? what is the problem? No idea. I know we won't be back in our home for at least another week. I know my home won't be much of a home when we do get back. It will be weeks of tripping over installers and displaced furniture. I know that parts of my foundation can't be closed up for weeks while we wait on soil sample testing. I don't know how it will all work. But I do know it will work. Again, it's inconvenient, but not a problem. I truly can't complain -- oh, I have, but I really have no room to. I know people that have actual problems. Living in a hotel having my dinner delivered to me -- not exactly a problem.
Judy says it's just like a vacation -- the first night here did appear just like some of MY vacations, but I doubt like many of Judy's. Wal-Mart at 11 p.m. Saturday so that Riley could have something other than athletic shorts to wear to church. Raucous softball teams celebrating until 3 a.m. Just like my vacations!
Having been through a flood and reconstruction 5 years ago, we are much better equipped to deal with this than we were the flood. I feel like we are making better decisions and I can think through our decorating options while we have this "opportunity" to re-model! Again, just like a vacation (even right this minute, the dinner in the atrium of the hotel is having some awesome live music -- you just don't get that at home! The kids just returned reporting on the dance-off).
And, since life goes on, bumps and scrapes come with it. Last night at baseball practice Riley took off after a long hit and tried to hurdle a rope that blocks off a portion of the track. With all the grace of his momma, he caught one leg on the rope and landed hip and elbow first. The kid is bunged up. When he still could hardly walk this morning, I took a sick day and took him into the doctor. Yep, he's beat up. Yep, he'll be fine. Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da, Life Goes On.
The foundation of my home is laid bare and, in some cases, removed from my home. There is a hole in the hall bath about 4 feet deep. There are piles of dirt in Ashley's room that have dumped huge clods onto her carpet that is rolled to one side. Concrete dust covers every inch of my home. Obviously not in my happy place.
HOWEVER -- since last Thursday my home has been some hotel. Thursday was Best Western, then I left town, then we've been at the Elegante' Suites (formerly Embassy). My kids are eating better breakfasts than they have all year -- okay, my whole family is. Troy doesn't even have to eat lunch! Someone comes to make my beds and bring me fresh towels every day. I'm 2 for 2: days for naps. It is, indeed, all good in the 'hood!
Of course, the questions continue -- how long? how much? what is the problem? No idea. I know we won't be back in our home for at least another week. I know my home won't be much of a home when we do get back. It will be weeks of tripping over installers and displaced furniture. I know that parts of my foundation can't be closed up for weeks while we wait on soil sample testing. I don't know how it will all work. But I do know it will work. Again, it's inconvenient, but not a problem. I truly can't complain -- oh, I have, but I really have no room to. I know people that have actual problems. Living in a hotel having my dinner delivered to me -- not exactly a problem.
Judy says it's just like a vacation -- the first night here did appear just like some of MY vacations, but I doubt like many of Judy's. Wal-Mart at 11 p.m. Saturday so that Riley could have something other than athletic shorts to wear to church. Raucous softball teams celebrating until 3 a.m. Just like my vacations!
Having been through a flood and reconstruction 5 years ago, we are much better equipped to deal with this than we were the flood. I feel like we are making better decisions and I can think through our decorating options while we have this "opportunity" to re-model! Again, just like a vacation (even right this minute, the dinner in the atrium of the hotel is having some awesome live music -- you just don't get that at home! The kids just returned reporting on the dance-off).
And, since life goes on, bumps and scrapes come with it. Last night at baseball practice Riley took off after a long hit and tried to hurdle a rope that blocks off a portion of the track. With all the grace of his momma, he caught one leg on the rope and landed hip and elbow first. The kid is bunged up. When he still could hardly walk this morning, I took a sick day and took him into the doctor. Yep, he's beat up. Yep, he'll be fine. Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da, Life Goes On.
Thursday
Now We Have Honey to Sweeten Life's Lemonade..
So Ashley calls me outside. "See that black spot on the tree?" Well, it's a pretty scrawny tree and a fairly large spot, so, yes, I see it... 
So, joining our happy little jackhammered home is a swarm of bees. I'm sure there is something I could and should be doing about that, but I don't know what. So, I'm keeping the children away until their father gets home!
So, joining our happy little jackhammered home is a swarm of bees. I'm sure there is something I could and should be doing about that, but I don't know what. So, I'm keeping the children away until their father gets home!
Happy Place... Growing Dim ... So Far Away
Well, to Pete, I guess, this is progress. I don't know if you can see, but I put a little, tiny red arrow to indicate where I stood yesterday to take a picture of my kitchen. Now my happy trough goes from my kitchen to the edge of my living room. Tomorrow it should go through the hall bath, the Master shower, the hall, the hall closet, and finish it's tour of the Stirman home in Ashley's room.
I do believe this is my favorite, though:
as if my living room were Pete's personal spelunking project.
I do believe this is my favorite, though:
as if my living room were Pete's personal spelunking project. He truly is a nice man and if I have to spend all day having my teeth rattled by a jack-hammering plumber, it may as well be Pete! He and Jason, our State Farm adjuster, are going to have to go on my Christmas card list!
Wednesday
Photographic Evidence
My kitchen sink area and floor Wednesday morning:
The kitchen sink is in my garage, and here is the floor area by Wednesday afternoon:
Lovely, no? (for reference, those are 18" tiles -- the picture shows 6 of them torn up, and I'm standing at the 7th one to take the pic)
The kitchen sink is in my garage, and here is the floor area by Wednesday afternoon: Lovely, no? (for reference, those are 18" tiles -- the picture shows 6 of them torn up, and I'm standing at the 7th one to take the pic)Seeing these pictures makes me realize that I have no idea where my cabinet doors are. Just a minute, let me look around... no, they are not in my happy place, which is where I have to stay right now. There are no questions and no answers in my happy place -- how much more do they have to dig up? how long will this take? you're sure State Farm will cover all of this? None of those are in my happy place, so I can't help you. My refrigerator is in front of my french doors and there is plywood over the trough. That is what I know -- OH, and I know that I made a grand pioneer woman and hauled water so I could cook and clean for a week with no drainage, but now I have no water and no sink to hold my "wash basins". So, I'm done and we shall be eating out until I have a sink again. That information is in my happy place. I think also in my happy place I am going to take children to breakfast this morning since there is one of those big, state-wide exams and they need a decent breakfast -- and there isn't one at this house! Come join me in my happy place!
Nothing Noteworthy
First, y'all knew I had to check out the new Diet Coke Plus, right? I saw it on the news earlier this week. Troy, of course, rolled his eyes. But if I can drink that bubbly beverage that I love so very much AND get a few vitamins, I'm ALL about it. I wouldn't have thought it would have been in our tiny city yet, but Kendra sent me an email about it pretty fired up (you don't know Diet Coke love/ addiction until you've met Kendra) so I set out in search of it today. Okay, truthfully I just went to Wal-Mart since that's where Kendra told me she had found it. I wouldn't have made a special trip there, but I needed a few other things, you know the W-M drill... Anyway, I know you are dying for my review so here goes: Flavor? sweeter than regular Diet Coke (NOT a plus, in my book) yet with more of an aftertaste. All in all, it's tolerable, and if it had vitamins I thought I really needed I would make a point to drink one every day. Which brings me to the vitamin content: How's your magnesium level? Niacin? I'm sure the B-6 and B-12 proponents will argue with me, but I really think I'm okay on that front, as well. I know that I am chronically short of calcium and iron, but I also know that caffeine interferes with the absorption of both of those things, so we probably won't find them in a Diet Coke anytime soon. All in all, Diet Coke plus is a grand idea --- but I doubt it will stick around very long.
And on the homefront -- I can't wait until I can post my picture of my kitchen floor with the 5 foot trough down the middle of it. It used to smell like fresh dirt, which I just thought I didn't enjoy until they got closer to the problem area and now it smells like sewer gas. I have learned that when Pete the Plumber is jack-hammering your kitchen floor, there is no where in the house to get away from the sound or feel. If you go into the backyard, put your earplugs in so far that the sound of your breathing is magnified, then take a huge swig of Diet Coke, the sound of the fizzing of the bubbles in your mouth is a fun distraction from the jackhammering, but you can still hear it. If you go to Wal-Mart or the mall, you can't hear it at all. There is currently talk of a trough that slices the flooring, as well as some cabinetry and fixtures, all the way through my home to remedy the extent of the problem. I am doing what is very typical of me at such a time -- I am very far away in my happy place and not processing. In 2 weeks, when I still have a trough in my home, plumbers jackhammering my life, and State Farm telling me that my tile is no longer made and they can replace it with ugly tile 'A' --- at that point I will also do what is fairly typical of me and have a nervous breakdown when I notice that we are running low on Honey-Nut Cheerios or something to that effect. Just bear with me.
Friday I get to go on a road trip with my gals and tell more of God's story at a retreat. I am so thankful for my gals! I get to continue to find my happy place while poor Troy continues to sit through jackhammering and sewer gas smell. May God bless the daddies left behind on a ladies retreat!
And on the homefront -- I can't wait until I can post my picture of my kitchen floor with the 5 foot trough down the middle of it. It used to smell like fresh dirt, which I just thought I didn't enjoy until they got closer to the problem area and now it smells like sewer gas. I have learned that when Pete the Plumber is jack-hammering your kitchen floor, there is no where in the house to get away from the sound or feel. If you go into the backyard, put your earplugs in so far that the sound of your breathing is magnified, then take a huge swig of Diet Coke, the sound of the fizzing of the bubbles in your mouth is a fun distraction from the jackhammering, but you can still hear it. If you go to Wal-Mart or the mall, you can't hear it at all. There is currently talk of a trough that slices the flooring, as well as some cabinetry and fixtures, all the way through my home to remedy the extent of the problem. I am doing what is very typical of me at such a time -- I am very far away in my happy place and not processing. In 2 weeks, when I still have a trough in my home, plumbers jackhammering my life, and State Farm telling me that my tile is no longer made and they can replace it with ugly tile 'A' --- at that point I will also do what is fairly typical of me and have a nervous breakdown when I notice that we are running low on Honey-Nut Cheerios or something to that effect. Just bear with me.
Friday I get to go on a road trip with my gals and tell more of God's story at a retreat. I am so thankful for my gals! I get to continue to find my happy place while poor Troy continues to sit through jackhammering and sewer gas smell. May God bless the daddies left behind on a ladies retreat!
Tuesday
The Days Are Evil
Be very careful, then, how you live—not as unwise but as wise, making the most of every opportunity, because the days are evil. Ephesians 5:15, 16
The days are truly evil. Besides the horror of yesterday, there are so many memories of evil this week:
April 19, 1993 – Branch Davidian leader, David Koresh, sets fire to the compound outside of Waco after federal agents released tear gas in the compound. Dozens of Branch Davidians were shot and killed before the fire ever started.
April 19, 1995 – Timothy McVeigh parks a truck full of explosives in front of the Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City, killing 168 people. It was the deadliest terrorist act on American soil at the time.
April 19, 1993 – Branch Davidian leader, David Koresh, sets fire to the compound outside of Waco after federal agents released tear gas in the compound. Dozens of Branch Davidians were shot and killed before the fire ever started.
April 19, 1995 – Timothy McVeigh parks a truck full of explosives in front of the Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City, killing 168 people. It was the deadliest terrorist act on American soil at the time.
April 20, 1999 -- Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold go on a shooting rampage at Columbine High School in Jefferson County, Colorado. They kill 12 students and 1 teacher before ending their own lives.
This year, April 17, 2007 has been added to the list of days in April that are memories of terror. I have no answers. I have no reasons 'why'. I have no understanding about any of it. But I have hope. Sometimes hope is all you can go on.
Heather offers much in the way of perspective this week. A week ago Heather thought she had a horrible ear infection that was making her so dizzy. Today she had an appointment at the Mayo Clinic to discuss options for the brain tumor she has learned she has. Please read her words here. Keep up with her here. And pray for her always.
Thursday
Like a Good Neighbor...
Yeah, I heard you... you, over there in Pennsylvania -- I heard you laugh when I said my husband was on the phone with State Farm. I heard you tell your friend what a moron I am for paying THAT much for homeowner's insurance. Well, let me give you some fuel for your laughter: State Farm has not only my homeowner's insurance, but my auto (both) and my husband's life (yes, I have life, and some of it is SF and some is someone else cheap -- b/c a death certificate is non-debateable: dead is dead. No exclusions of coverage) 'Cause here's the deal -- while I could have saved a few bucks over the years on my insurance, State Farm has paid me back and paid me back so many times over -- flood and car damage -- done! Now that my house has shifted, thus crushing a pipe under my kitchen, State Farm is once again saying, "You're covered!" Yeah, I could save a few bucks on insurance, but will they be there when I need them?
'Cause like a good neighbor... State Farm is there.
This is just to be written record/ reminder for the next time we have a "budget meeting" at the house and Troy wants to talk about saving $13/ month. He'll just have to pack his lunch a few more times if he wants to save $13/ month!
'Cause like a good neighbor... State Farm is there.
This is just to be written record/ reminder for the next time we have a "budget meeting" at the house and Troy wants to talk about saving $13/ month. He'll just have to pack his lunch a few more times if he wants to save $13/ month!
Wednesday
No, Seriously!
Have you ever gone about your day just fine until someone asks you, "Do you feel all right?" with a VERY concerned look on their face? Well, I thought I was all right. Yes, yes, I think I must be fine. But you wonder... do I look sick? Then if ANOTHER person asks you -- well, you just may as well go home and go to bed because you are definitely sick at that point, if only because your brain has convinced yourself that you are ill.
I thought I was fine and happy and wonderful today, but I keep getting these "this encouraging message made me think of you" emails. Which, don't get me wrong, I love to be encouraged, but they seemed to be aimed at the soul unable to tread another step without a little encouragement. Well, I thought I was fine and happy and wonderful...
Perhaps the brevity of my "plumbing issue" post caused folks to think that I was in my flannel jammies sobbing over pipes. I may have been in my flannel jammies, but I haven't sobbed and I really don't plan to. The brevity of the post comes from it being 16 hours after I had picked my head up off of the pillow, but anytime you can say, "We have to go out to eat" AND you're entitled to pay for it with your emergency fund because, truly, it could classify as an emergency-- it's not an entirely bad situation!
As my little friend Allie told me, "It's all good in the 'hood!" Now, I'm not sure my little slice of suburbia would be considered "the 'hood", but it's definitely good. Yes, there are plans to jackhammer parts of my home, but it's not my (or anyone else's) head, heart, or even big toe, for pity's sake. And, as my friend Donna Leavelle says, "If you've got problems that money can solve, then you don't really have problems." Every day of my life convinces me of that again and again. And, fabulously enough, the Lord has provided so many things in this part of our lives, shame on me if I miss all of the blessings before me for the few inconveniences.
So, um, thanks for all of the encouragement, I think. But, really, I think I'm fine -- unless you know something I don't!
I thought I was fine and happy and wonderful today, but I keep getting these "this encouraging message made me think of you" emails. Which, don't get me wrong, I love to be encouraged, but they seemed to be aimed at the soul unable to tread another step without a little encouragement. Well, I thought I was fine and happy and wonderful...
Perhaps the brevity of my "plumbing issue" post caused folks to think that I was in my flannel jammies sobbing over pipes. I may have been in my flannel jammies, but I haven't sobbed and I really don't plan to. The brevity of the post comes from it being 16 hours after I had picked my head up off of the pillow, but anytime you can say, "We have to go out to eat" AND you're entitled to pay for it with your emergency fund because, truly, it could classify as an emergency-- it's not an entirely bad situation!
As my little friend Allie told me, "It's all good in the 'hood!" Now, I'm not sure my little slice of suburbia would be considered "the 'hood", but it's definitely good. Yes, there are plans to jackhammer parts of my home, but it's not my (or anyone else's) head, heart, or even big toe, for pity's sake. And, as my friend Donna Leavelle says, "If you've got problems that money can solve, then you don't really have problems." Every day of my life convinces me of that again and again. And, fabulously enough, the Lord has provided so many things in this part of our lives, shame on me if I miss all of the blessings before me for the few inconveniences.
So, um, thanks for all of the encouragement, I think. But, really, I think I'm fine -- unless you know something I don't!
Tuesday
A Day in the Life
Today, I didn't want to hear:
- "Mom, the plumber is here." (okay, when a plumber is needed, it is always good for one to be there, but it was 7:48, I was trying to leave for work and Troy was still in the shower. So, of course, the plumber was 12 minutes EARLY).
- From Hector at the Help Desk: "Yes, ma'am, I realize you've been entering that data for 30 minutes (almost my entire conference time! HELLO!) but there is no way to get the program "unfrozen" without losing that data."
- Text message from Troy, at home with the plumbers: "Call when you can -- big problem."
- I call: "Hang on, I'm on the other line with State Farm."
- Email later: "State Farm is sending an adjuster, but they say it doesn't sound like something they will cover."
Today, I was thrilled to hear:
- But blessed is the man who trusts in the LORD, whose confidence is in him. Jeremiah 17:7
- He will yet fill your mouth with laughter and your lips with shouts of joy. Job 8:21
- Do you not know? Have you not heard? The LORD is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He will not grow tired or weary, and his understanding no one can fathom. He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. Isaiah 40:28, 29
Sunday
Batter Up!
originally on heartlight.org
March 30, 2005
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) 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 CrackerJacks, 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!
Batter up!
March 30, 2005
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) 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 CrackerJacks, 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!
Batter up!
Blogger's note -- now, two years later, enthusiasm has not
waned and I look forward to countless more hours on impossibly hard metal
bleachers and dinners of Dixie Burgers or concession stand
nachos.
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