Keep Them On Their Toes

Just a little funny about our family being in this limbo state. It's kind of funny, but it seems to be happening with increasing frequency that we're beginning to feel... a little invisible.

It seems that my determination to move at Christmas break (that didn't happen) and Troy already living in Dallas during the week, as well as a few other factors (like us pulling out of many activities and commitments at church) has led many people to believe that we have, all of us, already moved. Which is fine, I suppose.

One weekend in February when there were many out-of-town visitors at church anyway, the guy serving communion to us said, "HEY! Welcome back!" Um... thanks? Were we gone? The very same week I heard from one woman that I honestly never see anyway. We have children the same age and they have classes together, but unless she had specifically asked her son if my daughter was still in class, she would have no way of knowing what our status is. She needed to ask me a question on facebook and ended it with, "I hope you guys are doing well in Dallas. We miss you here!" Won't SHE be surprised to see us at the Spring band concert! :-)

It kind of died down a little, but last weekend we threw a few more people for a loop when we went to a different church service. Troy used to sing on the praise team and our family would attend whichever service he was singing for. He finally stopped doing that, too -- when you're only home for about 36 hours, one hour of praise team practice is a lot, and not sitting with your family to worship is a valuable hour you miss. So now we always attend the same worship service. However, last weekend, we needed to attend a different one.

We got several long lost greetings of welcomes and pats on the back. One octogenarian heartily welcomed Ashley back. It stressed her out. You just have to laugh.

I think you people all know, if you've been reading. If nothing else, you saw it here yesterday: I still live in my same old town. Troy lives with my aunt and uncle in our new town until our house sells and definitely until school is out. So, until June -- I'll be seeing you!

Our God is (Always) an Awesome God

Just a thought rolling around my head these days.

I've been around and in proximity and rejoiced with several people recently who, when blessings rained upon them and God moved mightily in their lives, proclaimed, "Oh! Our God is an awesome God!"

Do not think for one moment that I am going to dispute that statement or criticize the praise of another. No, but I just began to think about how rarely you hear that phrase when life isn't going so swimmingly for a believer. Yet our God is always awesome. More than anything, I began examining my own life: will I declare "in good times and bad, you are on your throne, you are God alone" as the song goes? AND that He is awesome? May it be so!

If, for some reason, you are new to my blog and/ or you haven't exactly kept track let me clue you in. In the last 10 months, my family has gone through 6 months of unemployment and now 4 months of my husband working 200 miles away while 2 teens and I are here trying to sell the house and maintain some semblance of normalcy (cue maniacal laughter). At this point in the school year, we will definitely stay another 3 months, for a total of 7 months of dual-city living for my husband, single parent living for me.

Financially, it is not easy to go from unemployment to maintaining 1.5 households. Emotionally, the uncertainty of 2 weeks down the road being an ever-moving target is exhausting, as well as the physical toll the stress takes on each of us.

The above isn't to grinch but to catch you up and to tell you that included in all of that: Our God is an amazingly awesome God. I could start to list out every blessing in this situation, but it would take me all day. Truly, they are immeasurable. Let me start by saying that the first blessing is that I'm not in charge. I have already seen that my unanswered prayers of us moving at Christmas has blessed my children in their activities and relationships.

Let me tell you the most amazing way that our God is an awesome God: the fact that I have one ounce of my sanity left. The real, authentic, honest-to-goodness Sarah has already had a full-body, all-out tantrum and left the building emotionally because this is all too hard and I just can't and won't do this and you people are ON YOUR OWN, DO YOU HEAR ME????

But God.

God drew me in, strengthened me, and promised me:

“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Cor. 12:9)

And, oh, I am weak. But our God is an awesome God.

If this is the hardest road I will ever walk, I realize this will be an easy life. Someone please remind me on the difficult days -- at a hospital bedside, after hearing bad news at the doctor's, when my own children are struggling and there is nothing I can do -- that our God is still an awesome God.

Neck Deep in Dreams

The waves lapped over my toes years ago, tickling my senses and awakening a calling. The genie was out of the bottle -- or the pantyhose out of the egg -- never to return.

I stood before a group of women, asked to do a "book review" for a group of young mothers at church. I had never in my life heard someone give a book review, nor knew what components should be in one. So I told how God had used the book to change aspects of my life -- a testimonial of sorts, I guess.

I can still picture the precious faces in front of me: eyes locked on mine, nodding and understanding. Souls connecting, each of us mothers simply trying to make it through this world to get to the foot of the Father's throne. Looking into the eyes filled with tears before me, I felt the refreshing knowledge of doing what I'm called to do -- as stepping into the cool ocean after a trek over the hot beach.

I stood there at the edge of the ocean, the waves barely tickling my toes for years, having no idea how to go any further. God blessed me when he sent me The Coffee Group -- a group of ladies who have traveled together speaking at retreats and ladies' events. I felt that I had waded knee deep into the ocean, speaking 3 or 4 times a year to groups of women. Every trip left me so honored to share God's story in my life, and so HUNGRY to tell it again... and again... and again.

I finally scraped together enough pennies in 2009 to attend She Speaks, but spent weeks agonizing over going as a writer or a speaker (why do some parts of my life feel like a week ago, and some parts feel like decades ago -- that was less than 2 years ago? Really? A lot has happened, I guess). That time, I chose writing. This time, I choose speaking.

I am also applying for a scholarship this year. You can, too, by going here. Because I am soon to be moving away and getting a fresh start in a fresh town, I am ready to move beyond knee deep in this thing. I long to be neck deep in my call, and I know She Speaks has the tools to get me there.

Last year being blind-sided by unemployment was tough. This year, living 200 miles from my husband waiting for a house to sell hasn't been a walk in the park, either. At the beginning of 2011 I claimed Joshua 3:5 for all of my family:

"Then Joshua told the people, "Consecrate yourselves, for tomorrow the Lord will do amazing things among you."

AMAZING things. I'm claiming it. Our family has had a difficult desert season. We will soon be moving to a new town. I've got stories and testimonies of His faithfulness to proclaim. I hope to attend She Speaks to sharpen my tools and be among that godly group of encouraging women again.

I would love to have any of my bloggy friends join me at She Speaks. Anyone else thinking of going? Who's with me?

Marriage Monday: Steal a Kiss Now and Then!

Last week on Facebook I posted that I was behind a young couple in a car that stole a kiss when we stopped at a stoplight. It made me laugh so much. I remember the days.

What I actually put on Facebook was that I remember one particular time that Troy and I -- we were discussing that it was our TWO MONTH wedding anniversary! Whew! Where had the time gone??? We stopped at a red light, I stole a kiss, then looked up to see a lady from church and her elementary daughter in the car in front of us thoroughly enjoying the show.

It also made me long to live in the same town as my husband again. Remember how I posted that the little annoying things aren't so annoying when you only live together 36 hours a week? Well, you also try to fall in love again like you did 18-20 years ago.

Resolve to hold hands a little more. Kiss at stoplights a little more. Make out in the kitchen. My daughter will tell you we already do this far too much for her liking. She told me that she has a friend that covers her eyes when the parents kiss each other -- just a peck. Ashley told friend, "That's nothing. You should see what my parents do in the kitchen." Making it sound as if we were doing this:

When in reality it's more like this:

I'm totally cracking myself up with the pictures.

Of course there is so much more to a marriage than these things, but I think back to 20 years ago when I physically NEEDED him next to me at all times. So much that I would sit through that blowing up movie... Now, I just bring a book to the blowing up movie. We're both happy.

Take a little extra time to smooch your sweetie. When he's headed to work. When he comes home from work. As you tuck in at night. While the spaghetti is boiling. And... at stop lights.

Friday Funny

So, on Monday, I posted my Communication is Very Fragile post. Yesterday, I was looking for something entirely different and saw that years ago I posted this that I had entitled, "Communication is Very, Very Fragile." Still true. And Hilarious.

(repost)

This reminds me of many conversations I have in my house. I hate to tell them, but communication between the genders is not likely to get any better any time soon.

God Won't Give You More Than You Can Handle...

I (texted) checked in with a friend going through a rough patch this week. Her husband has been struggling with his health and had a minor surgery but ended up back in the hospital this week. She is exhausted, as you can imagine. At one point, via text, she wrote, "I know God doesn't give us more than we can handle, but I think enough is enough." She, of course, included a smiley to let me know that she is fully submitting to the Lord's will and in it for the long haul.

Being a text conversation, I simply let her know she could call on me for anything they needed and I was praying, but I have pondered that oft-used phrase all week long: "God doesn't give us more than we can handle." I have thought it and said it myself.

Several years ago, however, I read a blog that gave me an entirely different perspective on it. And, as is the tragedy with blogs, I have no idea where I saw it, so I can't credit this person or even send you to her and we are all grieving that fact because she said this point far more eloquently than I will.

She had an ill child. Like ... potentially fatally ill. It was scary and she used this same phrase to a pastor that came to minister to her: "I know God doesn't give me more than I can bear, but I just don't think I can do this..."

The pastor encouraged her to look up the scripture that phrase is taken from: 1 Corinthians 10:13. It isn't talking about life struggle situations at all. It's talking about temptation. Perhaps we are using it in the wrong context:

"No temptation has seized you except what is common to man. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can stand up under it. " 1 Corinthians 10:13

The blogger went on to say (probably in my paraphrase), "God gives us situations all the time that we can't handle. We are to go to Him with them and let him bear them for us."

That has stuck with me through the years. It isn't always the time to correct someone's theology about the matter, but I want to encourage you to consider the point. You may be carrying something that you think you can't handle. Guess what? God may not intend for you to be carrying it alone.

"I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world." John 16:33 (emphasis mine)

See? He promises us that we will have trouble. But he also reminds us that he is bigger than all of it. Oh, I am so grateful. It's only the world.

Matthew 19:26

Mark 10:27 and

Luke 1:37

all have a variation on the theme, "With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible." (the one in Luke is spoken by the angel Gabriel so I think it's pretty cool!) Those are words I cling to when I am in the pit of time that I see no end in sight or way to break free. Luke 1:37, "For nothing is impossible with God." Nothing.

Whatever road you are walking today, God may have allowed you to have way more than you can handle alone. But NOTHING is impossible with God. Truth. And GLORY!

The Waiting Place

originally in Abilene Families

“...headed, I fear, toward a most useless place.
The Waiting Place...
...for people just waiting.
Waiting for a train to go
or a bus to come, or a plane to go
or the mail to come, or the rain to go
or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow
or the waiting around for a Yes or No
or waiting for their hair to grow.
Everyone is just waiting.”
--excerpt from Dr. Suess’ “Oh, The Places You’ll Go”

I suppose the first clue should be how these little people come into our homes. Whether you find out by the pregnancy test or the adoption agency that your world is about to be turned upside down, the next order of business... is to wait. Waiting for the contractions to start, the phone call that says the birth mother chooses you, the doctor to show up, the baby to show up. Waiting, waiting, waiting.

So I’m not sure why I am surprised that this season of parenting seems to primarily consist of waiting. I wait for it to be time to leave for practice, occasionally I wait at practice or wait for practice to be over. On game day the player needs to be there at least 30 minutes early, so I wait for the game to start. After the game, sometimes I have to wait for the post-game wrap-up.

Waiting in carpool line, outside of friend’s houses, and for the bathroom to be free.

Of course there is the waiting room waiting, which should feel better since I’m in a room designated for waiting, but doesn’t. There is the doctor’s office waiting, where I am imagining all of the coughing germs leaping onto me and my belongings. Then the dentist office waiting, where I am forced to hear horrific dental tool noises, trying to be thankful it isn’t me experiencing said dental tool. Orthodontist waiting room waiting has very nice amenities, but it only makes me wish the services were cheaper.

If I were a productive person I would be able to get things accomplished in these little drips and drops of time, but the procrastinator in me likes to believe that as soon as I get started on something, it’s time to close up shop and move along to wait at the next location.

I am pondering things I could accomplish in 17-minute increments of time. Write the next best seller, disjointed though it may be. Crochet some little bitty socks, perhaps. I suppose I could learn cake decorating on petit fours, one tiny cake at a time.

I confess that I start to lose patience with all of the waiting, waiting, waiting. Friends who have children that can drive tell me that’s still waiting, just on a different level. Then I understand there is the waiting to come home from college. It never ends, I suppose.

In the middle of it I am tempted to forget that it is a sign of an abundantly healthy and blessed life to be able to do such waiting. I know moms who spend their days waiting beside a hospital bed or in one waiting room, then another, wondering what the next test result will bring or if the day will show any improvement.

Then there are the mothers who spend this lifetime waiting: mothers who will not see their children again in this lifetime, waiting for the moment they will be reunited with a child gone too soon from this world.

So I wait. I wait in busy, active, happy places with busy, active, happy children and I am so immensely grateful for this life I have been given, these children that drag me hither and yon, though I have never actually mapped hither or yon.

Too soon, the flurry of activity at this house will migrate to houses where my children will wait for their children and families. My house will grow still and quiet. When the activity from their house comes back to visit, I’ll be waiting. I’ve had plenty of practice.

Top Posts for February

Thanks to some research, I have found a way to find out which of my posts are my top ones. These are my top posts for the month of February (in order of numbers of visits):

Considering Valentines Day

Super Day of Gluttony

Marriage Monday on Tuesday

Parenting Teens

I'm In a Cult, Who Knew?

The interesting thing is that the last one is 5 years old. I knew that it was still consistently being landed on by search engines (I think because I mention cults) but I had no idea that it was quite so popular. Sadly, it is simply a transcript of a news show. It isn't my writing at all. If you like another of my posts, email it to all of your friends and get another post to be on top! :-)

Communication is Very Fragile

This is a phrase I heard at least a bajillion times -- give or take a million -- as a senior in high school. I went to a Christian high school and had Bible every year as an academic class. My senior year the entire class was about marriage. We had many different topics and assignments, but this phrase stands out more than any other: "Communication is very fragile."

Think about it. The WAY you say something can change an entire meaning. "Thanks a lot!" said sincerely with a smile invokes warm fuzzies. "Thanks a lot!" with an eye roll and sneer shows you honestly didn't appreciate my input at that moment.

You may have heard me say I struggle with migraines. Obviously, in the middle of a horrible migraine, not only do I not think very clearly, I don't express myself well. I try not to make any big decisions or business decisions, but when migraines start piling up, sometimes life has to carry on no matter what.

Last night we had a laughable miscommunication. When you have one party with a migraine and the other party happens to be a 13 year old boy, chances are good that communication will break down at some point. I made myself some dinner then crawled back to my bed. Trying to tell Riley to put my leftovers in the refrigerator, he evidently heard "throw them away" (it's a long story, but something was to be thrown away, too... just not my dinner). Communication is very fragile.

Things like this happen so frequently in relationships: marriages and/ or friendships alike. I'm still grieving a friendship to someone who understood me to mean one thing at one point when I meant something entirely different -- and let it go almost a year before I finally asked what the problem in our relationship was. At that point, a few more things had built up, and the relationship is beyond repair at this point. Communication is very fragile.

Ask. Clarify. What I usually say to Riley, when I don't feel as if my head is about to roll off my shoulders is, "Tell me what you understand you are to do." Then he will repeat to me what he thinks his task is (throw my food away) and we can clear things up then. I am thankful when people believe that our relationship is worth the asking and clarifying.

Very early in our marriage, leaving the house on a Christmas morning, I was complaining that the only pictures one ever takes of me was on Christmas and my hair was stupid that day. The way I worded made it sound (to Troy) like I thought he was being an insensitive oaf at the moment. Communication is very fragile. And I was so thankful he said something!

Oh -- and texting and emailing: throws a whole level of potential snafoos into communication! Ask and clarify. Ask and clarify. Communication is very fragile.

Relationships that are worth investing in don't just happen along. If you have any in your life: friendships, family, or a marriage, don't let a miscommunication trash it. Ask and clarify.

I Have Seen The Clutter Monster, And It Is Me

originally in Abilene Families

Just as every home has a monster in the dryer that eats the socks, my family has a clutter multiplying monster. Maybe it’s the same monster, because dirty socks seem to show up in the mix quite frequently.

I am amazed at how a candy wrapper that falls to the floor can suddenly grow a companion pair of dirty socks. Soon a dirty dish and glass will join the mess as if the harmony of the clutter beckoned them. Left alone for more than a few hours, yesterday’s paper finds its way to the party.

Before the sun has set, an episode of “Hoarders” is being filmed in my living room.

I take full responsibility for allowing the clutter multiplying monster to have his way with my home. I can be absorbed in something -- writing this column in my head, perhaps -- and can step over and around and through clutter and never see it... until the doorbell rings. Then I break a sweat and start yelling for the kids to pick up all of that junk that I never saw until that minute... like my shoes, my purse, and my laptop.

We have a dog, which brings a whole new level of clutter into the home. She is too old for the little toys and bones that used to get littered about the floor, just waiting for a bare foot to find the soggy material on a midnight trip to the bathroom.

Now she simply reclines about my house depositing her hair all over the house. If I get to come back as an animal in the afterlife, I want to be her.

I simply don’t understand how one animal can leave so much hair all over my house and still have any left on her body. We don’t have dust bunnies at our house. We have dust puppies, many of them resembling Chewbacca from Star Wars. It’s a constant battle to eradicate those little creatures before they form their own nation, demanding representation in the UN.

Then there is my purse. I really shouldn’t be trusted to carry a purse, but I’ve never lost a child permanently so they let me have one. ‘Cause, you know, heaven knows I don’t have enough clutter lying around my house. Now I need some to sling over my shoulder and tote with me in case I am ever without.

Receipts, stray gum and breath mints, broken pens and gum wrappers are all normal clutter for a purse, but there is the kid clutter, depending on the age of the child. It could be a lint covered pacifier, a baggie of crushed goldfish crackers, a superhero action figure (minus an arm, making it not-so-super), or happy meal toys.

There might be movie ticket stubs, the stub to a football game where the child caught a touchdown pass, rubber bands for braces the child no longer has, a program from a band concert, a taekwondo belt, glasses missing a lens, a mouthpiece for an instrument, a broken earring (possibly my own, but likely not), medications dating back to the Reagan presidency, and a collection of hair accessories.

I drag my purse clutter-container to my car, yet another haven for clutter in my life. At least this is a portable clutter. One must be prepared for everything and have chairs and blankets for the soccer field in the trunk and a tissue box floating in the car.

How quickly the clutter multiplying monster grows those few items into a pile of jackets, floating straw wrappers, and stacks of school papers crammed between seats. I do enjoy a good West Texas car clean out: open doors on either side and let everything blow out. Frowned upon by the pollution police, of course, but where were they when we were all drowning in pollution inside my own vehicle?

I would love to say that this clutter comes with the youth in my house and will be gone in a vapor just like the wet footprints down the hall after the shower. Sadly, I am aware that much of the clutter is mine from simply not paying attention to what piles up. It has occurred to me that perhaps I just may be the Clutter Multiplying Monster.

Marriage Is For Grown Ups

I don't think I've shared a blog with you that Trey, constant champion of marriages, pointed out to his blog readers: Show Up Naked With Food. Yeah, it's as fun as it sounds.

There was a post yesterday about the food side of loving your spouse. Y'all know me -- you know I am NOT advocating loving anyone solely on food and junk alone. HOWEVER: the post brought up a great point about the mere act of preparing the food and caring for another person. Truly, the love that comes from that.

I would encourage you to read the post because she says it better than I will try to stammeringly sum it up, but if you don't, just read this paragraph:

"I have a friend who HATES cooking. She has other talents and capabilities but this is just not her thing. Her husband fends for himself every meal. The unfortunate part is that he works and she does not. She figures out ways to snack and feed her children though out the day and when he gets home he feels like the absence of dinner for him means he is not on her radar. He has shared with me how he feels sorry for himself and she has shared on me how she hates to prepare meals. They spend hundreds and hundreds of dollars extra a month because of constantly eating out. They rarely sit down for “family time” and have a meal together where they can talk about things and enjoy one another’s company. From this dynamic the husband, unfortunately, uses his “neglect” as an internal excuse for why he isn’t that helpful with household chores. She in turn tells herself, “he doesn’t deserve me fixing him dinner when he isn’t that helpful himself!” It’s funny how couples feed off of each other for their justifications."

My question to the friend is: what are you going to tell your kids when they tell you that they don't want to clean their rooms, or put away their laundry, or do their homework? Because, I am here to tell ya -- cooking dinner and doing laundry EVERY day is my go-to "Oh, yeah? Well, I don't want to do THAT, either, but I do, because it has to be done. So, go clean your room." I'm sure that cements me as the most heartless mother on the planet to you, but it's the truth. Yes, I feel it, yes, I say it.

I don't like to cook. But I can. And I should, especially when my job is as flexible as my writing is and I am home in the afternoons.

That whole situation made me think of a time that a couple came to my parents to seek counsel and it turned into a "but she does this" and "but he said that" and "nyah, nyah, nyah!" fest. My dad finally just told them, "You have to understand that marriage is for grown ups, and both of you have to choose to be the grown up."

Sometimes it can be hard when you're in the thick of it -- "but he made me mad first!!" Yes, yes he can. Die to self. Lay it down. Remember when you were crazy about him? It just isn't that big of a deal. No doubt, cooking EVERY night -- I do not enjoy it and that is a drip, drip, drip of an annoyance that can build up and build resentment IF I let it. However, I have chosen to see it (most of the time) as a way to bless my family with a healthy meal (that they may or may not hate).

And? my favorite time of day comes after I cook dinner: we sit down together as a family. There is no greater reward for my efforts than the 4 of us gathered around the table. It doesn't matter if it's "fancy sandwiches" (that means you melted the cheese on the bread) or Filet Mignon (never served here) -- as long as it is us, I am happy and my efforts are rewarded.

This can go beyond so many things besides cooking. As Lindsay at Show Up Naked said, "Be the one to offer the olive branch. I turn to women, not because I feel it is your fault, but rather because I feel you are the most likely to eventuate any real change in your marriage"

Is there anything in your marriage that you don't enjoy doing that you have tried to see as a way to bless your spouse or family? I would love to hear from you!

High School From This Side

originally in Abilene Families

If you’ve been keeping up with life at our house, you realize we started high school this year. Yes, all of us, because it takes a village to pull off this itinerary of comings and goings and events. There is supposed to be academia in there, as well. I hope that is getting accomplished at some point.

Through these beginning few months of high school I have come to realize that high school is so fun when you aren’t in it! There are concerts, parades, pep rallies, sporting events and dances just to begin with. The festivities go on and on.

I love to see all of the uniforms. From my vantage point, everyone has a uniform: band, ROTC, drill team, cheerleaders, athletes, all manner of pseudo-cheerleaders and pseudo-athletes as well. There is cheering and frivolity and parading and pepping and fun, on this side of high school.

But I vividly remember the 16 year old me who didn’t have any uniform to wear. I attended a small school that had athletes and cheerleaders. Period. If you weren’t athletic, there was nothing for you. Unable to safely navigate a crowded room without injury, I did nothing, feeling as out of place as quality merchandise in Wal-Mart.

In larger schools there is much more for students to do, but still there are students that feel as if he or she is in the wrong uniform or feel left out completely when he didn’t make the cut this year. We parents dismissively call it ‘drama’ with a wave of our hand when our children are upset to feel as if they don’t belong, but the human spirit never outgrows the need to feel a part of a tribe, or to be in community.

As a second grade teacher, I had a name tag that said what campus I belonged to, showing I was part of that tribe. Our clan wore Friday shirts, further creating community. Of course, the cool factor for a second grade teacher and her Friday shirt among the general population is negligible, but to my second graders I was a rock star, and that was all that mattered.

When I left teaching to write, I made a startling realization: freelance writers don’t automatically have a tribe. There is no name tag that says I belong at my desk in my bedroom. If I wanted a specific shirt to wear on Friday, my choices were limitless, but they didn’t connect me to a group. I was tribeless.

My children were beginning middle school at the same time and as I observed behaviors and listened to stories about school I noticed a common thread: most people just want to feel as if they belong. I began to take note of what caused tension among different groups that I was a part of in “mature” settings and I noticed a common thread: most people just want to feel as if they belong.

Never underestimate the human spirit’s desire to belong to a tribe, nor its capacity for stupidity in order to be a part of one.

I appreciate those who look for others who may feel left out of a tribe. Not everyone can be a part of your tribe, but everyone can be a part of some tribe, and you may be able to help them find which one that is.

My tribe resembles a carpooling, crock-potting, chaperoning, laundry-stacking, parade-attending, bleacher-cheering mom for this season of life. Do I get a name tag? Letter jacket? Maybe I will win the spirit stick at the pep rally this week.

Valentine, Schmalentine...

Just a quick stop in to say that I hope everyone had a great Valentine's Day. If not great, you have at least survived. Onward.

As I mentioned in my last post, last week wasn't too super great, I wasn't able to see Troy very much over the weekend -- errands, errands, errands -- so I worked up a pretty good feel sorry for myself come Monday morning. Love and gooeyness was spewing all over Facebook and I could hardly stand it. I was in a foul mood.

Thankfully, I started my day in The Word, but still my heart was grouchy. I continued to pour out what was on my heart to God, telling Him I didn't want to have an ugly heart today.

Friends graciously gave me permission -- I'm in a tough situation, no doubt. But here's the deal: I can't cave. I have NO idea how long this is going to last. I have got to learn how to "take captive every thought" and battle back from "a mood". My family cannot afford for me to give in to such pull to be a grouch.

So I spent time in The Word, and in prayer. My prayers were that the Lord would empty my heart of me, me, me and just remind me of His love -- for me, that I may love those around me with the same love.

It was not a lightning bolt shift in my day... but things got better. I already had some fun things planned, that honestly I had forgotten. I had lunch with a dear friend -- and in some regards, she and I are walking the same road. She gets it. And she is the least judgmental person I know. Love that. Just let me pour it out there. That was that. Lots of smiles and laughs.

Then I had scheduled a walking date with another friend and mentor that I don't see enough. We don't solve a lot of our problems, but we love to hear each other out. It was so great.

Oh -- between the two, I took the truck (yes, I call her MY truck... that annoyed Troy, but believe me, if I didn't HAVE to drive it, I wouldn't be, so I will call it MY truck if I want to...) to a car wash that was advertising free car washes for red cars on Valentine's Day. Now I would call the truck more of a maroon color, so I didn't know if it would be free -- but with all the snow and oock we've had, it desperately needed a wash anyway. Whatever. Guess what? FREE! You can't beat a clean vehicle for perking you up just a little.

As I spent time with the kids, cooking and eating dinner, covering strawberries in chocolate, working on a little Driver's Ed with Ashley, I thought about something Beth Moore says in "Living Beyond Yourself": "God can not only change your life, He'll change your day!" And if anyone's day (and attitude) needed changing yesterday, it was mine!

I'm so thankful for a God that will listen to my whining and complaining -- but loves me too much to let me stay there.

You turned my wailing into dancing;

you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy,

that my heart may sing to you and not be silent.

O Lord my God, I will give you thanks forever. Psalm 30:11,12

*Pic of adorableness ripped off of the Scott Photography Blog. LOVE them. LOVE their stuff. LOVE their people.

Thank Goodness It's FRIDAY!!

I just deleted an entire venting of my week. Suffice it to say: it's been crazy and not what I planned.

The Lord reminded me again and again of Proverbs 19:21: "Many are the plans in a man's heart,
but it is the Lord's purpose that prevails."

I don't have a great verse for stewardship of our body, but He also reminded me that I can't spend 3 days treating my body horribly (not stopping to eat/ fuel up, not enough sleep or exercise or water) and not pay for it on the 4th day: migraine. Blah. I do not like those, Sam I Am. But I am VERY thankful for medications.

So, thankful things of this week: Got to (safely) travel to Ashley's last basketball game about 3 hours away. It was a GREAT game and she played SO well! So very fun. Love to watch her play. Riley, who has felt crummy all week -- we finally got him on some meds for his sinus infection -- rode with me though and he is always so fun to be around. Love that guy.

Also had some other happies in the week: forced fun with another mom who I thoroughly enjoy. We co-volunteered to sell tickets to a dance. A few other things were fun, a few more were not fun, but it is almost over.

Oh... just typical of my week: I tried to schedule my Valentine's post to post, you know, ON Valentine's day. Yeah... there it went. Yesterday. Big as life. Oh, well. Read it again on Valentine's Day. My gift to you.

After Valentine's day I will tell you about my lovely and nice package that I DID in fact manage to get off to Troy... that included a major brain fail in it. It is so stinkin' typical of me it is sad, but it also is going to cause me to quit laughing at our friend who iced the potholder into the layer cake. Yeah, it's about on that level.

Satan tries to convince me that not getting to my 'to-do' list makes me worth less. Yet I know that "I am more than a conqueror through Him who loved me" according to Romans 8:37 And this week, if the kids and the dog and I are all still breathing and the house is still standing by 6 p.m. today, I am claiming VICTORY! What about you?

Have a happy weekend!

Considering Valentine's Day

originally in Abilene Families

My family experienced some minor medical drama the week between Christmas and New Year's while traveling out of state. On one of my many trips to the drug store, I had to stop dead in my tracks. I was perusing the Christmas decorations and wrapping paper on clearance. I turned around to look for more, and was faced with a shelf full of boxes of Valentine's cards that children will use to declare love for classmates. Before the confetti of the New Year's holiday is swept up, the shelves in stores are fully stocked with hearts, balloons, and all manner of Valentine props and paraphernalia.

Maybe it's age, maybe it's motherhood, maybe it's global warming, but I don't think of Valentine's Day the same way that I did as a young, single woman or newlywed. Valentine's Day is a fun, light-hearted opportunity to lavish love on those around you, but life has shown me that love rarely looks like the front of a Hallmark card.

Love is not running along a beach hand in hand. Love holds the flashlight in the middle of the night, make-up long gone and tempers flaring, holding your tongue while your sweetie attempts an emergency home repair. Love isn't demonstrated by dewy eyes across a candlelit meal, but rather by one more run to the doctor or pharmacy when you are exhausted beyond reasonable or rational thought.

Valentine's Day lends itself to romance. Romance is wonderful and exciting, but won't take you very far when the stomach bug hits, or your "Love Shack" floods, or one of your parents is critically ill and/or dies. Romance will not be found in any of those situations, but love is there larger than life. Love brings the cool wash cloth again and again for the stomach bug, and mops and covertly repairs damaged keepsakes during the flood, and cries and holds and works and loves with an ill family member.

Love is not rose petals and champagne, but aching backs and work gloves. Love at my house never dances in an evening gown or tuxedo, but love supplies the elbow grease, the patience, the encouragement, and the clean clothes to face each day and, Lord willin' a comforting place to come home to when the day seems to come out on top. Love is holding tight when no words will fix it, and tears the only language uttered.

Love is not a polished, glimmery state. Love is messy, inconvenient, and frustrating. Love is giving up the last ounce of energy, sleep, time, or chocolate for the well-being of another. Love isn't found in romantic restaurants or destinations, but in hospital waiting rooms, the lobby of funeral homes, and kneeling in prayer next to race-car or princess beds in the middle of the night. Love is less about flowers and cartoon hearts, and everything about the value of another soul on this planet. I guess that's a little harder to put on the side of a coffee mug.

I will play along this Valentine's Day, like all the others, and I certainly hope for you to feel cherished on that day. But, later in the year when the toilet overflows while the drama at school comes to a boiling point and work causes too many demands to keep everyone civil, love will be there with a plunger, Kleenex for the tears, and hugs, pats, and kisses for all the things the plunger and Kleenex won't fix. Consider that your own Valentine's Day -- but don't look for Hallmark to make a card for it anytime soon.

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails. (1 Corinthians 13:4-8)

Parenting Teens

originally in Abilene Families

Coming home to a trash-filled living room strewn with beer bottles, midnight calls for bail money, and ongoing dialog with school officials about juvenile shenanigans is what I expected.

As a child of the 80’s being fed a steady diet of John Hughes films such as “The Breakfast Club,” “Sixteen Candles,” and “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off,” I braced for parenting teens as one might prepare for combat, thinking that these years would make Normandy look like a Sunday afternoon at Wal-Mart.

Last fall brought a landmark to our home: the youngest became a teen. In the midst of the celebration I realized having teens in the house is much more fun than I imagined that it would be.

Teens have arrived at an age where it’s easy to catch a glimpse of the person they are becoming. Their strengths and skills continue to grow, and it is more apparent that each person in your home is a distinct and unique individual.

My children have their own athletic and musical abilities, but we also have a money spender vs. a money saver at my house. There is an observer and a “huh?” person here.

We have someone who likes order and someone whose creative nature creates a unique version of order in that living space. There is an entertainer and an audience, a scene stealer and one content to stand in the wings. It is a joy to see how each of these things will add up to the path each will take.

While I never dreamed I would be more sleep deprived as a parent of a teen than I was as a parent of a toddler, I think I’m having more fun as a parent of a teen.

One of the most surprising aspects of parenting teens is the sheer joy I get from how embarrassing I am to them. I was able to confide in my new teen, “People tell you that children bring you joy. They just don’t tell you that it’s embarrassing the child that brings you such joy.”

Teen was not amused.

The reality is that I don’t have to try to embarrass my children. Oh, I’ll threaten: “Can I sing this song when I pick you up?” “What if I jumped up and down like this?” “Can I show your friends this kind of wave or handshake?”

I don’t have to follow through with it. They know that I am just crazy enough to give it a go. The mere thought of my actions gives me traction for all manner of chores to be done or information that I need pried out of a child. This is beneficial since everyone in the house looks down to talk to me.

At certain ages, of course, the simple fact that I exist is embarrassing. Which brings me even greater joy. Yes, I realize this makes me a sick, sick person. It is amazing power as a parent. If just existing is embarrassing, just think how little you can do to be over-the-top embarrassing to your child. Simply mention waving to them across the room and you could get the whole house cleaned for a month.

The list of “What Not to Wear” to my child’s school would make Stacy and Clinton proud, as well: no pajamas, no revealing exercise wear, undergarments worn but not visible... the list goes on. It doesn’t mention go-go boots only because no one has thought of them. I had better wear some soon before they make it onto the list.

I remember the days of Playskool toys and nap time fondly as well. I just never dreamed it would be this much fun on this side of parenting too.

It helps my joy in parenting teens that by amazing grace, my kids are generally good kids.

I’m sure I’m asking for trouble by saying that. Between writing this article and publication, my teens may have created all kinds of hooliganism, the least of which is being suspected of being the instigator in thinking the rival team’s mascot belonged on top of the school building. At which point, I will show up at school in go-go boots with my nightgown to let my children know that is only the beginning of their worries.

Super Day of Gluttony

I try to be fairly "live and let live" on my blog. Yes, I lead an active and healthy lifestyle. I think that you will feel better if you do, as well. But I have to confess that this article has brought about a rant in me that I am going to have to let loose.

In case you don't want to click over, let me give you some highlights:

1.) Super Bowl Sunday is the second-largest day of food consumption behind Thanksgiving. (source: American Institute of Food Distribution)

2.) Sales of antacid increase 20 percent the day after Super Bowl. (source: 7-Eleven stores)

3.) There is a plea to make "Super Bowl Monday" a national holiday for fans to "recover" from the effects of the Super Bowl party.

Let me say this: REALLY???

Because two teams --that 4 weeks ago 97% of the country didn't give a flip about-- are coming together and being paid MILLIONS to do so, we are going to gather with our friends and eat obscene amounts of food, drink obscene amounts of alcohol and then have to choke down antacids and call in sick to work the next day?

And... speaking of obscene... I know MOST of you will say, "Oh, but I just like to watch the commercials..." Have you SEEN the commercials lately? With your teenage children?? Or with a youth group??? Most aren't appropriate for either.

As far as the event itself goes, I know I am not an unbiased opinion. We are not a huge football family. I know some of you need to see a game if there is one on -- somehow I gave birth to a daughter that is that way. So I won't slight anyone watching a game -- but I don't get why we have to eat ridiculous quantities of food while we watch.

I just see the WHOLE theme of "EXCESS" throughout the whole time and find it even more nauseating than all the over-indulging. Sure, about 30 years ago some friends would get together for a pizza and chips around the TV. And as TV screens and waistlines around the country expanded, so did the buffet line and elaborate dishes. It is time for someone to say "ENOUGH!!"

So: "ENOUGH!!"

Please: enjoy the heck out of the game. Catch up with some of your "old faithful" Super Bowl Party pals that you may not have seen since LAST Super Bowl Party. But there is no reason to eat yourself ill just because there are men in huge pads making obscene amounts of money on the TV screen.

Let's make feeling good the day after the Super Bowl the new normal!

Nothin' But Snow...

I would love to have something fascinating and worthwhile to say, but we have been snowed in. I can tell you how many episodes of "The Office" are on Netflix streaming. I can tell you how cold my bedroom -- with the north-facing wall-o-glass -- gets when I have to leave the space heater in the laundry room to thaw the pipes there (actually, I don't have a specific number... let's just go with "real cold"). I can tell you the time in the afternoon that my body decides it needs to nap on a snow day. But things of value? I got nothin'.*Pic info below

This is a rare Texas occurrence and I don't mind it one bit. Of course Monday was your typical end-of-January 70*, as I mentioned. Then came the rain, then the sleet, then the plummeting temperatures, then the snow. JUST as the cooler weather was coming in Monday afternoon I was leaving the vets office. I will spare you the details, but I became aware that my dog was quite ill on Monday.

Thankfully, it was something that a few pills and a special diet for a few days will take care of. That has been the most exciting and productive thing I have done all week: cook my dog some rice and, later, after a run to the store, some pumpkin. Yes, he recommended pumpkin for the fiber. Can you believe? For the record? She prefers the pumpkin to the rice, but isn't crazy about either. Tomorrow she gets to eat real food.

So. For 3 solid days. The house. Me. Two children. Tomorrow school has already been canceled. My facebook posts indicate that some of my neighbors are hearing voices inside their head that sound like Jack Nicholson in "The Shining," and may eat their own young before the thaw on Saturday. All of us have realized we are a little too used to being able to run to the grocery store every 48 hours (yes, I skated on the ice for the milk and the dog's pumpkin... AND some sweetened condensed milk for snow ice cream! :-)

But I have learned -- among the many other ponderous things such as how messy it is when a dog eats pumpkin out of a bowl -- that food supplies aside, I am perfectly fine being inside the four walls of this house. Granted, my children are at an easily (read: electronically) entertained age, and aren't doing too many handstands against the walls (though I refuse to lie and say that none have been attempted).

But with you lovely people reading and commenting on my blog, and catching up with some folks on facebook and via text... my "cabin fever" limit is much much higher (lower? different?) than most folks.

Hands down, the crummiest part of this WHOLE deal: Troy's work was also closed all 4 days. Of course we had no way of knowing that at the beginning of the week, and even yesterday he was supposed to go in, then slid into work on ice, got his phone out in the parking garage and got his email that work was closed. Blah! So... it would have been nice to have him home, but more than anything, I'm still praying for him to get back here safe. Not sure when he's going to attempt that. Ugh.

The first day of snow, I saw this on another friend's status. So true, so beautiful:

“He directs the snow to fall on the earth
and tells the rain to pour down.
Then everyone stops working
so they can watch his power."
Job 37:6,7

Hope you are each warm and safe!
*We really didn't play in the snow, so I totally stole this pic from AP:
"Ilona Chisholm, 13 months, helps her mom shovel snow out of their driveway using a rake in Cohassett, Mass., Tuesday, Feb. 1, 2011. (AP Photo/Stephan Savoia)

Don't Show Your Tail

originally in Abilene Families

I was raised in the South by a good Southern momma, who sprinkled good Southern advice throughout my life as liberally as Paula Deen uses the butter. Some of it involved silverware, some of it involved marriage and babies, but the most everyday useful advice involved how to treat people.

Much of it I heard frequently enough that I rolled my eyes to hear, and little of it made sense until I lived it and experienced it. I think educators call that a kinesthetic learner. For instance: “Don’t go burnin’ any bridges.”

I did not understand this phrase. I was not prone to pyromania. Bridges were prolific in my bayou-strewn town, but I was never tempted to set one ablaze.

I didn’t fully understand this advice until I lived in a small Central Texas town and needed a temporary job. It was an awful job that paid okay, and I didn’t put my heart into it. I showed up late, did just enough to keep my job, tuned out when reprimanded by The Boss, and was thankful when it was over.

Imagine my horror when I showed up to interview for a job I wanted to find that The Boss was one of the people joining the interview process. Truly a V-8 moment. “Don’t go burnin’ bridges.”

I don’t use that same phrase with my kids -- maybe it just sounds old fashioned to me now. But I have a similar phrase they have heard all too often: “Abilene’s just too small to act that way.”

You know what I mean. We all run into each other coming and going in this town.

A friend can vouch for this. She got into a bit of a honking, shouting tousle at school drop-off. Still fuming, she pulled up at the gym for her exercise class... next to the same driver from the school. Abilene’s just too small to act that way.

A young friend thought he would test the limits of where he could go on his bicycle, knowing he was heading into forbidden territory by crossing a very busy street. A friend of the family reported it to his mom. He still has no idea how mom found out, but the short answer is, “Abilene’s just too small to act that way.”

Momma had another Southern phrase: “show your tail,” which means to act rude or unbecoming, not reflecting your proper Southern raising. You don’t want to show your tail when the town is this small. Or ever.

Children aren’t the only ones who have this lesson to learn, and perhaps we should teach our kids to act right no matter which zip code they live in. Maybe an elected official berates a fast food employee when the salad has the wrong kind of cheese? I’m guessing that not only the employee but everyone in the establishment will remember that at election time. Abilene’s just too small.

Maybe a church leader or pastor wonders why people are tuning out the message of “love thy neighbor” from the pulpit on Sunday morning. Then he shows his tail by having no patience with a local business employee, or being beyond rude and demanding with a waitress after church on Sunday. Abilene’s too small to act that way.

The world we live in is becoming smaller all the time. Facebook, blogs, Twitter, and email are allowing the world to come to your front doorstep, if not your back pocket. So, not only is Abilene too small to act that way. The world is simply too small to be impatient with your fellow man.

As I peruse the Valentine cards and expressions of love this month, I will also consider those folks who test my patience the most. Oh, I won’t buy a card. My valentine to the cashier who takes too long, the waitress on her first day, or the driver who turns in front of me only to drive at a turtle pace will be kindness, patience, and gentleness.

I won’t go burning’ any bridges. The world is just too small to act that way. Momma will be proud.

Marriage Monday on Tuesday

It's been a VERY long time since I've posted a Marriage Monday and... since it's late Tuesday afternoon, does this even count at all? I'm going with 'yes' because I can't make anything cute out of marriage and Tuesdays. It just doesn't work.

Yesterday (Monday) I was doing all of my running around because today the sky fell in. Or... it snowed in West Texas. Take your pic, because it creates equal amount of panic and mayhem. Honestly, you would NOT believe the scene at the grocery stores. Unbelievable. It's truly not supposed to be above freezing for several days. The grocery store madness was compounded by the fact that Monday was the end of the month and payday for many people (our family included) so I was at the store, too. Of course I failed to buy the mandatory gallon of milk you're supposed to buy before a snow storm, so of course we will be out before the thaw.

I do have something on my heart about marriage that I wanted to post about. It probably means more to me than it will to you... isn't that always the way?

If you haven't been keeping track/ keeping up, you may not be aware that for the better part of the week, my husband lives 200 miles away to work at a new job that we are VERY thankful he has. The kids and I are waiting for the house to sell and pray for our family to live together as a whole unit again very soon. We have actually been living with this arrangement for almost 3 months now, when I didn't think I would survive one month. It's amazing what the Lord will grant you the peace and strength to do when called to do.

And, I do realize, this situation is far more difficult for my husband than it is for the kids and me. We have our own house, our own friends, our own support system -- you wouldn't believe the prying eyes of the neighborhood... and I LOVE it! People ask to drive the kids somewhere or can they pick anything up for me or do I need them to drop anything off when they go here or there. Love it! But of course it never makes up for having a spouse living in your home.

And Troy is very thankful that he has relatives where he can live rent-free. They have always been 100% gracious, but of course he feels like he is intruding, and is so ready to be in his own home, with his own family. And every day he is surrounded by people he doesn't know very well (though after 3 months, I suppose they are becoming closer...) while he trudges the unfamiliar territory of a new job. In short, we would really like our family to live together.

We trust -- God has given us that peace that surpasses understanding (I promise this is a post about marriage in here somewhere. Stick with me) that He will bring a buyer for our home in his perfect timing. We have prayed and listened for His guidance about the price of our home and many other things and we truly believe it is simply left up to His time. So we wait.

And the things I have learned about myself, my husband and my God could fill volumes but most of them are things you need to learn on your own. This may be one of those things.

Last week was a particularly difficult, perhaps impatient, week. I tried a million times to lay down MY will and MY way to the Lord, only to pick it up again and shake it at Him and say, "But don't you WANT us to live together???" As a side note, I do believe the answer to that is that yes, He does, but He also trusts us in this time and knows that we can learn and grow in this time, so He is not in a hurry as we are in a hurry. ("But do not forget this one thing, dear friends: With the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day. The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness." 2 Peter 3:8,9... encouraging... but not... you know?)

When Troy FINALLY arrived back "at home" -- such a weird thing, this "at home": when we live together full time again, it won't be in this home. Just weird. So, when he finally arrived here, I noticed how much more patient I was with little annoyances and inconveniences. Ever go to get in the shower just as your spouse does? I do... ALL the time. Your spouse ever park behind you or in YOUR spot? ALL the time.

Guess what? I cannot WAIT to be inconvenienced by the little things of my spouse again. And it made me grateful that I get a second chance. I know wives whose spouses are deployed who learn not to be annoyed at the little things. I have widow friends -- of ALL ages, many WAY too young to be widows -- who would give anything for their spouse to be in the shower when they want to be.

I was sharing my life lesson with a precious friend at church over the weekend and she got tears in her eyes.

"Thank you for saying that," she said. "We were just cleaning the kitchen together last night and he was ALWAYS right in front of the trash can when I needed it. I tried to tell myself, 'Well, he doesn't have to be here at all...'"

Truth.

And, heaven knows I can certainly be one of the most annoying people on the planet to live with. Granted, my propensity to burst into random song could arguably be fun or annoying depending on who is voting, but I'm pretty sure my habit of leaving a trail of dishes and shoes in every room I inhabit is beyond annoying.

So, perhaps God is leading me to one of my four words for the year: Gentleness. Because I will continue to be gentle with this wonderful blessing of a man that God has gifted to me and our children. Why would I be anything else? Because sometimes I am focused on ME and what I need and what I want and MY time and MY schedule and MY convenience. And I just don't think that's what the Lord has in mind for marriage.

Praying for more patience... and always gentleness.