Off Track

So.

Once upon a time, I put it out there.

My dream, my goal, my hope, my idea.

No one laughed (audibly).

But the next month I got a record number of migraines. Hmmmm.... 

And I started drowning in a cycle of migraines and figuring them out, then once I found some relief from migraines I went on a medicine to PREVENT a migraine that instead gave me a headache EVERY day (but it wasn't a migraine!). Can you say irony? 

Also, how great do you think it is to be MARRIED to someone that truly has a headache EVERY day??? Yes, indeed, we were livin' the dream over here!

Lo and behold, this week I look up and realized that the end of (now) this month is a writing conference I'm attending. A writing conference I have scraped and saved to be able to getto  register for, that my parents generously bought me air fare for, that I had grand plans to go to with book proposal in hand. 

I don't have a book proposal in hand. I don't have a book inside my head. I'm doing good to still have my head attached at this point, I figure.

I'll be honest. If I didn't already have loads of my own money and other people's sunk into this conference, I wouldn't go. I have this week that I will be finishing swimming lessons and next week I will be on a mission trip with Ashley. I'll be back in town for a few weeks, then here's my conference!! Yay! or not...

I think I even signed up to have either my writing or one of my talks critiqued by a group of my peers, but I don't even know which I signed up for right now. Susan has finished getting ready for hers (which is what made me remember that was even part of the conference). 

So, I'm off the writing track. I feel lost as lost can be in trying to nail down this dream of mine. After battling my health, I feel like I'm starting completely over which would be fine, but now I realize I have to go to a conference. Yes, I'm supposed to learn at the conference, but everything in me is already screaming at me, "You don't belong there! You aren't really a writer! Poser! Imposter! They're all going to know you don't belong!" 

So.

Once upon a time I had a dream. I think I still have it.

And Another...

Spellcheck, Anyone?

Riley's Random Fact for the week...

Did you know?

In the 1996 edition of Webster's Dictionary, there were 315 misspelled words.

Missing Family

I am blessed with family in many ways. Many of you know my parents are avid blog readers and my biggest cheerleaders. Troy's dad is a blog reader, if not a frequent commenter (he's an email commenter).  I am loved and supported by family near and far, but there is no blood family near. Since I went 500 miles away to college over 20 years ago, I haven't really lived close to my own blood family, and in the 8 years we've lived in this town, we have been away from any of Troy's family, as well.

Another way I am blessed with family is my church family. They are pretty awesome and are my cheerleaders, too. But they aren't my family.

This weekend we had some church family over for dessert to celebrate Troy. In the middle of getting ready for them to be here, I just really missed real family. I wished that Troy's dad could be here for the celebration, and I wanted my own parents to be here to join in, as well.

Julie discussed this recently when they had a very exciting event in their family, as well. 

Sometimes you just need family nearby. There's just no substitute.

Forty Things I Love About Him

1. The way he rubs his right temple when he's lost in thought.

2. The cleft in his chin many of you don't know is there because he keeps it covered in fur so often.

3. He's interested in EVERYTHING: history, science, music of any genre, whatever. 

4. He's a counter: tiles on the floor, frames on the wall, probably how many crutch moves from couch to bathroom. A little Rain-Man-esque, but I love it.

5. He sees a better me than I see in myself, which causes me to be a better me: wife, mom, person, child of God. 

6. He's a word person, too. He leans more toward alliteration. 

7. Spelling nazi.

8. He's methodical. Everything: coffee, dinner, getting dressed, going to bed, all has an order. I think about being methodical. Then I think about something else and forget.

9. He FUH-reaks out when I cry and will pretty much do anything to make it stop. Girls, we all have this power -- the trick is to not abuse it. Keep the tears to a minimum and they hold amazing power...

10. He has continued to mature and grow in the time that we have been married. 

11. My favorite thing he has learned: not to take himself so seriously.

12. Sometimes he's just gotta have some chocolate...

13. If chocolate won't do, there better be ice cream.

14. He really does appreciate that I try to feed us fairly healthy around here.

15. He's pretty low maintenance in the entertainment department like I am: we're good with a night at home and a DVD.

16. His beautiful bass voice.

17. When he uses that beautiful voice to lift praises to the Lord.

18. Boots and blue jeans.

19. Suit and tie. Lookin' awesome either way.

20. Between guns and motorcycles, he enjoys expensive, dangerous hobbies (this isn't a part I love). He is adamant and unyielding in handling both safely.

21. Love of guns and motorcycles notwithstanding, he has a secret soft spot for babies and puppies. 

22. He isn't a financial risk taker and takes seriously his role of providing for his family.

23. He gave up a job that would provide lots of material things for his family, but was keeping him from being who he knew he is called to be.

24. Nothing on this earth will calm my soul as much as his touch.

25. He's a fun dad.

26. He's a fair and firm dad.

27.  He has a horrible memory. Honestly, this has caused a problem or two as you may imagine. But he also doesn't remember one time that I have ever embarrassed him or hurt his feelings. I kind of envy that.

28.  He can hang with my family.

29.  He makes me laugh at the most unexpected times in the most unexpected ways.

30. He has allowed God to teach him compassion up close and personal and to have a heart for the broken.

31. He's ambidextrous.

32. He loves to learn. 

33. He is proud of our children for the skills they possess and the gifts God has given them;  He wants them to be the best them God has made them to be. He has never pushed what he thought they should be or do on them.

34. He knows me. REALLY knows me. The deepest, craziest part of me.

35. He loves me anyway.

36. He has enjoyed providing food for his family 'from the land' -- deer, quail, fish, etc.

37. NEVER has he brought me a deer/ quail/ fish/ etc. to clean or deal with or left me a mess after cleaned one.

38. The sound of my name when he says it.

39. Like me, his favorite way to worship is by being outdoors in God's gorgeous creation and marveling at what He made. 

40. God's word is his True North -- the only accurate measure of right and wrong. Bottom line, it's why I picked him.

Thankful for you, thankful God sent you to me, thankful God left you here last week, thankful to celebrate another year of your life on this earth.

Happy Birthday!

Book Review: Perfect Fifths

I picked up this book in the library because I knew I had seen a positive review of it... somewhere. I brought it home and tried to wade through it. I'll be honest:I still haven't finished it, and am not sure I can (I'm almost 200 pages in, though, so I think I can at least speak with authority about its mediocrity). 

I finally realized that I had seen the review in one of my writing magazines, and re-read the review. It's the fifth in a series, and I haven't read any of the rest of the series. I was happy to see that many of the reviews on Amazon thought this was the weakest of the series -- it at least validated to me that I'm not crazy or deluded or whatever.

I also cannot recommend the book because of my 'honor the Lord' banner up there. Not only does the character's lifestyle not do that, the language doesn't come anywhere close. The 'F-bomb' takes a break for a few pages throughout the book, but it's enough through the book to be wearisome.

Oh, in re-reading the review, this series is SUPPOSED to be for young girls! Great morals... or not. 

Overall, thumbs down. Don't bother.

What's Your Favorite

For some reason, the family talked turned to School House Rock last night. This is one that Roxanne always mentions:

Which one is your favorite?

Passing the Buck

Why, yes, I do have something to say about the latest televised marital woes. But this gal says it best. 

I'm still so very, very sad for all of them. And very angry with the mom and dad, while still sad for them -- that they seem to be without friends that will hold them accountable to the vows they renewed last year.

Bless them all.

But Wait! There's More!

We never get tired of these:

Did you know?

The winter of 1932 in the U.S. was so cold that Niagara Falls froze solid. (A depression AND a miserable winter? Wonder what the suicide rate was? Blech...)

Just An Ordinary Day

It was an ordinary day. Only it wasn't.

Our schedule was amazingly light. Even for summer, the kids and I have been so busy rushing out the door in the mornings for me to teach swimming lessons that they also attend, or to get this one to basketball camp, or that one to summer track. This was the first day since school had been out that NONE of that was planned. I was on my way to the gym for the first time in weeks, then we would hit the pool and Ashley had youth group stuff in the evening. Nothing but F-U-N on the calendar (yes, I am one of those sickos that count going to the gym when I want as fun).

It was an ordinary day. Only it wasn't.

The call of 'Mom!' sounded not quite right just as I was on my way out the door to the gym. One look at Riley's face with the greenish tint to it let me know he really wasn't feeling well like he claimed. Was he only dehydrated (it is impossible to get that child to drink water) or was it worse? No gym for me...

It was an ordinary day. Only it wasn't.

It was the first day in at least a month that I was headache-free all day! My migraine battle has turned into a chronic headache battle. They aren't all migraines, but I have daily headaches. It makes living life fairly difficult and, like many other things like that, everything gets done for other people first before I take care of the family. The house has greatly suffered and we recently had a discussion that mom could no longer be in charge of dinner since 4-8 p.m. is an impossible time for me. Headache free and at home? What shall I do? Yes, I even cleaned out some cabinets! Definitely NOT an ordinary day!

It was an ordinary day. Only it wasn't.

When it was determined that Riley would survive, I finished my cleaning area, and tried to get started on an article I have in the works. Hmmm. For some reason, no one wants to talk to me at 3:00 on a Friday afternoon. Maybe they have 'fun' on their calendar, too. I left messages all over town for folks to call me back, knowing I would need to actually call THEM back. Ashley, who had been wallowing all over the house telling me how BOOOORRRRRREEEDDDD she was, and I left to go run a few errands. Final stop? The grocery store since the cupboards were bare here.

It was an ordinary day. Only it wasn't.

Walking into the grocery store, my phone rang. It was an unrecognizable local number. Assuming it was a source for the article, and knowing I wasn't planning on conducting an interview in the produce section, I sent the call to voicemail. Ashley and I perused the produce for what was on sale and checked that against our list. We laughed over the twin babies that looked like little balding men. We sampled coffee cake. After about 10 minutes we made our way over to the bread aisle and I thought to check who that phone call was from.

There were 2 calls and 2 messages from that same number and a call and message from home. Hmmmm.... something must be up. I'm quick that way. I listened to the first message: "Sarah, you don't know me, but I'm with your husband. He's been in an accident. I think they are taking him to (name of hospital)." *click*

These thoughts went through my mind in the 3 seconds after I let out the involuntary audible gasp:

--Accident? But he was on his motorcycle today... that means...

--If I throw up right here, who will have to clean it up? 

--Should I check out? I hate to leave all this here. But I don't have time to put it away at home...

--Should I take Ashley home? I may be at the hospital all night...

--Should I go get Riley? How bad will he look? Do the kids need to see their dad now?

Gathering my purse and recyclable bags(!) we hustled out of the store while I listened to the other two messages which, blessedly, had a little more information. Troy had been alert and able to dole out phone numbers. Riley manned the phone at home and relayed the info to me and seemed to be super great to stay put, so Ashley and I headed to the hospital.

It was an ordinary day. Only it wasn't.

Pulling into a parking spot at the hospital, a rescue helicopter was directly over my car about to land about 100 yards away. Seeing one of those helicopters always makes me think of my friend Trina. Almost 9 years ago she saw the helicopter carrying her Kelly land at the same hospital, then take right back off headed to a hospital that could potentially tend to his head injuries better. Kelly didn't make it. I always wonder whose life is changing forever when I see that helicopter. Was it my turn? If Troy was alert, he wasn't in that helicopter, was he? Was he? Where had the accident been? How fast would the vehicles have been going? My stomach rolled over again. It was dubious comfort to realize no one needed to clean up the parking lot of the hospital if I threw up there...

Hurrying into the ER I asked the first staff person I could find:

"I'm trying to get some information about my husband who was in a motorcycle accident?" "You'll have to go to registration."

"I'm trying to get some information about my husband who was in a motorcycle accident?"  "They are just finishing up his paperwork right there," she said pointing to a paramedic and another registration lady.

"I'm trying to get some information about my husband who was in a motorcycle accident?" The female paramedic who had been working on the paperwork had her back to me and turned in such a way to KEEP her back to me and walked away. HELLO??? Can you just throw me a little information? Please? 

Sign papers, get looked at disapprovingly for not having my insurance card, wait as she hustle-bustles back to find out about if we can see him or what and FINALLY takes us back.

Y'all for someone who had been hit by a moving motor vehicle and lay on the road waiting for the ambulance to get there, he looked amazingly good! I was too freaked out to take an iphone pic! He was strapped to the backboard, head taped in place, the whole 9 yards, but only complaining of his ankle hurting.

I could go on and on. The gist of it is this: I'm not sure the helicopter person made it. I saw lots of family shuffle back to a corner room, dazed and weepy. I was there with my husband who was in a motorcycle wreck and was going home that night with a broken ankle. How could we possibly be so blessed? 

I'm still quite weepy and humbled to wonder why, in the blink of an eye, everything went right for us when they can go so horribly wrong for some wonderful people. But our hearts and mouths are full of praise for the outcome of what could have been awful.

I didn't sleep well that night. The simple joy of the weight of his arm across my stomach -- like it is every night -- , or the warmth of his chest against my back -- like it is every night -- , or his toes reaching out for my foot -- like they do every night -- were all such simple pleasures that I am so thankful for that I didn't want to miss any of it in slumber, nor could I unwind enough to let the day go.

It was an ordinary day. Only it wasn't.

I will praise you with the harp 

       for your faithfulness, O my God; 

       I will sing praise to you with the lyre, 

       O Holy One of Israel.

My lips will shout for joy 
       when I sing praise to you— 
       I, whom you have redeemed.

Psalms 71:22,23

Good Things Out There

So, remember these days? When I did Good Things Out There? And remember how I was going to feature a precious little Etsy shop each week? Yeah, me neither. I totally forgot about all of that.

UNTIL...

I happened across my neighbor's/Ashley's math teacher's/Reese's mom's blog. And on her blog she mentioned her Etsy shop. Oh, yeah. I like Etsy shops. And y'all? Hers is PRECIOUS! I almost picture stuff this cute inside my head, but if I am ever going to attempt it, it simply fails in execution. And? for me? She's local (like, walking distance local!)!! So when I need a wedding gift -- BAM! 

Beth Moore - Living Proof Live Pittsburgh from on Vimeo.

If you would like to add your 'Good Thing' button to your blog, copy the code into an 'HTML' box on your sidebar:
<a border="0" href="http://www.sarahstirman.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://i341.photobucket.com/albums/o397/SarahSti/blogbuttongoodthing-Page002.jpg" /></a>

For Father's Day

Originally in Abilene Families

My daughter became adult-sized long before she was adult shaped or even out of elementary school. Passing five feet tall in fourth grade, she had a difficult time growing into her long legs and ginormous feet that she inherited from her mother.

One night several years ago, due to events none of us ever understood other than the gravity of the earth, her feet came completely out from under her while walking into the kitchen. With hands full of dishes to put away, the entirety of her adult-sized body landed on her tailbone on the tile floor. While my husband and I stood over her trying to help her, it quickly became obvious that even if there were something you could do for an injured tailbone, we didn’t know what it was, and simply watching her cry and writhe in pain was heartbreaking.

So he squatted down and without a groan or moan scooped up her adult-sized body as if she were still a toddler and carried her to a more comfortable spot
-because she’s still his baby girl
-because she needed him
-because he’s the daddy.

Isn’t it only fitting that Father’s Day fall a month and a week behind Mother’s Day? That’s about right for poor ol’ Dad. It’s reminiscent of the car choking its way into the hotel. Mom takes the kids to the pool to get them out of the way. Dad shows up over an hour later with battery acid burns on his hands, grease on his clothes, steam still coming out of his ears, and holes where he bit his tongue trying not to say “no-no words” in front of other hotel guests. The kids want to know what took him so long, mom is ready to go eat, and dad just needs a nap, but the car is drivable again and all is right with the world and the family vacation.

One of my most consistent memories of my own father is the sound of his bare feet shuffling down the tiled hall after everyone else was in bed. Before I could hear his feet, I had heard the clicks and flips of locks and switches as he had locked the house up and turned off all the lights, tucking the house in and keeping us all safe the way daddies do, and being the last to take care of himself like daddies do.

Daddies’ jobs are a study in contradictions. Daddies teach the Little Leaguer the ultra-tough perfect power triangle batting stance, yet are ready to wipe the tears when the game doesn’t go our way. Daddies may be called on to salvage Barbie from a deep sea expedition in the toilet, or to sit in on a tea party. Daddies protect the attic, basement, yard, and home from rodents, insects, mean dogs, spiders, and unwelcome salesmen, yet can whip up a mean pan of brownies when company comes or just because it sounds like fun.

Daddies have it tough in their task, but I have learned that they aren’t burdened down with a guilt gene like we moms are. They measure out punishment the way it should be: by being firm, fair, and consistent. Later, there might be a sno-cone just because.

Your house may not have such a warm, fuzzy image of a daddy – for whatever reason. But I have found that Abilene doesn’t have a shortage of men who will love on young people in much the same way. My family has done Little League, youth basketball, public school P.E., soccer, Sunday school, sports camps, and bazillions of other activities. While we have encountered some people we would rather not see again, the majority of the men who will spend their time devoted to such activities have blessed us beyond measure and I’m thankful those men will give love, time, and encouragement to children who need to see a daddy in action.

For this Father’s Day I hope you let Dad know you appreciate him. I also hope you let him rest and put his feet up. You never know when you’ll need him to pick you up off the ground – and he’ll be right there to do it, too.

(for Father's Day, I was also tasked with writing this article about an AMAZING family. You may want to click over and read about the family from Rwanda).

Book Review: Handle With Care

I'll be honest: my first reaction is to give this book a thumbs down. But as I examine what makes me think that, it's how I feel. This book got under my skin. It is VERY well written, which is part of the blessing/ curse. I would NOT have liked some of the characters in person -- and I don't think that was what the author intended.

Let me back up. This is a story about a family with a daughter with Osteogenesis Imperfecta, OI, or as you probably know it, Brittle Bone Disease. The deal is that we have a friend with brittle bone disease. Here's Matt with Ashley and another friend.

This picture was actually taken when Ashley did her research project on OI and ask Matt quite a bit about his disease. We are also relatively good friends with the parents and have been in some close situations with them. While they have had their moments of doubt and struggle, I'm sure, they have done an AMAZING job -- not only of raising a special needs child, but of expecting the best out of him and his sister.

It's the sister I'm the most fascinated with. She is lovely. Probably 3 or 4 years older than Matt, she has her own set of interests and skills that she excels at, and her parents have exhausted themselves to see to it that she is able to participate in those things when she is able. She also supports her brother in what he does, and he is frequently doing something wonderful and smart and academic. They have created a family, when I'm sure the temptation would have been to create a system surrounding one child.

I don't think any of us with two able-bodied children can ever fully appreciate what it takes to create some semblance of normalcy with a special needs child. But Matt's family does what they can, all that they safely can while keeping Matt safe, and same for sister.

What does this have to do with the book? The family bugged me -- because they didn't pull it off nearly as well as Matt's family does. Not that I could! The family also came across some tough decisions and didn't choose the way I would have... or did they? That's what I mean that they got under my skin. They made me think. They made me choose sides. They made me formulate a plan. Which is the best kind of book.

So, the book was well written. And uncomfortable to read. And chafing. I think you may like to think on it a while...

Get OUT!!!

'Kay, my life just got WAY more fun .... see? That is Ashley (please be sure and notice any of the bajillions of dollars worth of orthodontia you can see in that mouth), me, and Riley on.... LAPTOP DAY!!!!!!!!! And can I tell you why even THEY are so excited about my laptop? I have been saving and saving for PRECISELY what I wanted. Tuesday, when I got my check from subbing for jury duty, I made plans for yesterday being LAPTOP DAY!!!!!! And it was indeed.

I got a MacBook with the aluminum cover. I had a Mac YEARS ago and loved it, but Troy is always a PC guy (in computers only, mind you) but when I got my iPhone I remembered how much I loved Apple products. So I got JUST what I wanted. Whi

ch is why it has taken me so stinkin' long to get one.

However, how awesome was it that I walked into the ACU Bookstore with my little fistful of dollars to see the sign 'All Mac Laptops on Sale'?? Woot!! THEN little scruffy-faced college dude tells me that not only is my laptop $200 cheaper than I thought, but if I buy (Ashley, she thinks) an iTouch, it will be rebated fully, annnnnd, how 'bout we throw in a printer for free? 

Um, how 'bout Oh-stinkin'-KAY!!!!!!!!!

So now I have a laptop, Ashley and Riley have an iTouch, I have a printer to sell and a few extra bucks to stick in the vacation fund! Just every once in a while, the good Lord says, "It's good to be patient with your dollars."

So, I'm still learning lots (hey, how do you steal pictures off the internet with a Mac since you can't 'right-click' on the laptop...?) and the kids and I (as pictured above and below) are loving the photo booth and camera app. Which means, Mom and Dad, sadly, I am good to go to SKYPE now. No more calling in my towel.

I decided she must have a name. Amelia came to me... as in, Earhart. Partly because she was brave, adventurous, and daring. Also because in "Night at the Museum 2" she is VERY talkative and wordy and s*xy, to boot (yes, I've seen pictures, I don't think the original Amelia was burdened with such womanly ways). Anyway, we think Amelia suits her just fine. And, yes, she will probably get lost at least once. Hopefully not FOREVER though!

So, Happy Laptop Day to you!

Today's the Day!

Big day for me! To be a REAL writer... I've been saving and saving... and FINALLY! After last month's substitute teaching when the P.E. teacher had jury duty, TODAY is the day.

Any guesses?

Riley's Random Facts for the Week

Remember these? You just need one of these sometimes.

Without further fanfare:

Did you know?

Cheetahs are the only cat without retractable claws.

No, I mean a REALLY Good Friend

On Friday, Roxanne sent me a link to an article that pertained to something that happened 19 years ago. The article had me going through old letters from Roxanne looking at things from around that time.

I haven't done a 'tribute to Roxanne' blog post (have I? I honestly don't remember), though she has somewhat done one about me. (or two) While I was chuckling over letters, my kids asked me where I met Roxanne. It kinda all started here: But really, how cute are we? That was our first grade picture and let me say that I, like most of the rest of first grade, didn't appreciate the wise soul that is Roxanne. She is someone that was born an 'old soul' which is great and wise, but not-so-fun in 1st or 2nd grade. She was also a little, um, how might one say, LOUD. Roxanne has presence. Still does. Needless to say, her friendship wasn't always appreciated in elementary school, but in my very tiny school where my enormous class of 17 or 18 was the biggest (and worst behaved according to every teacher we had) sometimes you would take what you could get. If nothing else, she was simply always there.

In time, Roxanne and I did land in the same circle of friends, then we formed a ridiculously close friendship during play practice, on chorus trips, and out of town football games. Our friendship thrived on written communication. If you think I am a lover of words... wow. You just need to hear all of Roxanne's. After Roxanne teaches 8 sections of Language Arts and talks to her husband and children all day, she is about half-way through using her words for the day. So she calls me.

Roxanne has written me notes and letters and cards and emails and all manner of communication. Besides letters from my grandparents, parents, and Troy, I have VERY few letters that I saved from college other than the ones Roxanne wrote to me.

Reading back over those letters of 19 years ago made me laugh at the pie-in-the-sky (and always trying to lose weight) two of us. It made me wish I could gather both of us together sit us down and say, "Listen up, girls..." But I wouldn't have dared to do that, because I know we wouldn't have listened. We had plans, we had dreams, we had hopes, and we had 5 more pounds to lose. (Um, Roxanne, why is it that YOU were going to marry the cowboy and now it is I that lives in the desert, married to a cowboy, with a deer blind needing a home sitting in my back yard?)

My friendship with Roxanne -- just like my relationship with anyone else on this earth, I guess -- has gone through seasons. I wouldn't ever say a really bad one, but there have been many times it's been a blessing that she lived 350 miles away from me. Sometimes I had plenty (as my mother would say) "to say grace over" in my own life, I didn't have the strength or capacity to carry anyone else's burden, nor did I ask her to carry any of mine.

I have confessed to her more than once that were it not for her consistent "callin' to check on ya" to me that I would have let our friendship fall by the wayside in our twenties -- in that season of young adulthood when everyone feels the need to shed 'childish' ways and relationships, even those that may be of infinite value.

We are in a very comfortable season of frienship right now. I think it came about with the myriad of changes in Roxanne's life in the last 12-18 months and the one major one in mine (quitting work), it was easy and comfortable to turn to someone that didn't require much explanation or pretense. Through the sloughing off of externals that signify major change for each of us, we see that we still have each other.

As the event of last week brought out those letters, and I re-read them, I thought again of this friendship I have. This crazy, amazingly blessed friendship. The letters I was reading were from the summer of 1990 -- months before I even met my husband, who I am soon to celebrate 17 years of marriage with! That is a LONG friendship!

Roxanne has presence, as I've said. She also doesn't hold back: words, love, emotions. I vividly remember Poppa Max chuckling and saying, "You know, when you've been hugged by Roxanne, you've really been hugged!" As a teenager I confess a limited patience with such ooshy-gooshy emotion. It was too much for me, who put a LOT of effort into trying to always appear to be completely collected and even-keel.

So I read her proclamations of her friendship love for me -- that sounded similar to scripture you read about Jonathan and David. I have confessed not-too-long ago that their friendship just makes me uncomfortable. What I know now, my 2009 self, with same-sex attraction swirling everywhere, is uncomfortable with the love professed between Jonathan and David. I had to re-think those words as I read what my 1990 self would have read from a dear friend: the same type of profession of friendship love, a gratitude of a friendship that understands and that is unmoving.

And above all, I am grateful. Few people can claim such a friend ever in their lifetime. I have been able to claim such a friend FOR a lifetime.

One Thing for Today

I keep forgetting to tell y'all:

I did finally make a blog roll, but like the rest of my life, it isn't organized how I want it. Right now it is updated as often as a post is made. So, newest posts are on top and I'm going to guess that Vonnie and Donna -- two of my teacher friends -- are still hovering around the bottom.

Progress, not perfection, people...

Swimming Babies

So here's a question I invariably get: can you teach my two year old to swim?

Or, is it too soon to put my 15 month old in lessons?

Or something along those lines.

Believe me, people -- I was that mom.

I put my three year old in swim lessons. SO excited for that baby to love to swim as much as I do. And I sat in a steaming hot swim center wrestling an 18-month old while she screamed as if her life were in jeopardy as those poor high school swim teachers wondered what in the world they had done to deserve such a horrible job.

So. After being a mom a few more years and teaching way more kids to swim here is my current philosophy on swim lessons (drumroll please) (and what I would tell that frazzled, sweaty younger me):

Save your money. (or, more accurately, spend it differently). Instead of spending your money on swim lessons for your 3 year old, spend it on a pool membership for your family. Do not try to teach that baby anything. Let her learn on her own. Let her play and figure it out in her own time (which she did, given enough water play time).

That is pretty much my philosophy for kids 3 or younger. When I taught private lessons (which I don't anymore) I wouldn't teach any younger than 5. At my group lessons, they will take them as young as 4. I have some 4 year olds that are doing GREAT. Another group has two 4 year olds that scream the ENTIRE 45 minutes. So, it can depend on the kid.

Other random thoughts/ philosophies on swimming and children:
1)Once they are in lessons, it can be like walking: once they are ready, it just clicks. Boom. They are swimming.

2)To actually swim: face in, alternating arms, blowing bubbles, and kicking-- is so many motor skills a child is generally about 6 or 7 years old before they can really master the crawl. They can safely move the water at 3 or 4, depending on strength and comfort in the water.

3)If your child was safely swimming and/or comfortable in the water at the end of last summer, DO NOT assume they have retained that knowledge and/or comfort level over the last 9-10 months. My babies will lose confidence over the weekend of swimming lessons. 9-10 months can be a LIFETIME for these guys. For that reason, sometimes it can also be better to sign your child up for swim lessons later in the summer rather than earlier if your child has been hesitant about the water (another mistake the younger, dumber me made). Most people want their kids in swim lessons immediately so that they will know how to swim the rest of the summer, but sometimes you spend the whole session just getting the child comfortable in the water instead of teaching him/her how to swim.

4)If you have a GOOD swim lesson program (like the one where I teach) kids continue to learn strokes and skills far beyond the crawl and backstroke. I have been challenged as a teacher, and both of my kids (ages 13 and 11) continue to take lessons (now in what's called 'Guard Start') and are challenged and grow as swimmers.

My children basically got comfortable in the water the summer that our house flooded. Sounds awful, doesn't it? No, I didn't throw them in. We had to move out of our house, and we ended up at some apartments that had a pool. What else would we do? We went to the pool. Every day. My kids (Ages 5 and 7 at the time) played in the water. I was lonely and bordering on insanely depressed and just sat by the pool every day -- not even reading. Just sitting. Barely awake. It's a wonder my children were safe. But they were safe, venturing a little further out every day. Figuring out what they could do on their own.

Maybe it was the next year (no, it was two) that the director of this swim program asked me to come be a teacher and it allowed my kids to have swim lessons for free.

I think it is crucial to get your children comfortable and safe in the water. SO crucial, in fact, I would recommend this: if your finances do not allow you to belong to a pool and/or get swimming lessons, I think you should treat it like a family vacation. Scrimp and save all year long to invest in that for your family. It's that important!

And then go do a big fat cannonball for me!

Two Things Quick

Off to teach the babies to swim. Thank you, Lord -- the sun is OUT for the first time in two days. We've been standing in the pool under the clouds shivering while the babies turn to toddler pops saying, "I'm not wanting to do that very much right now." Good times.

So I must 'hustle with a t' as Riley says (and got from Coach Brady) but wanted to tell you two things:

Brian could really use your prayers. Not many more details here, but he's battling cancer, an awesome man and dad, and is fighting hard to be a dad for lots more years. I will try to fill you in later. Just pray for Brian to be strong today and for the next few.

Lighter note: this looks fun: go vote for one of Roxanne's former students!

Wow. Where To Start?

Okay. Y'all. Seriously. I'm coming back here. I really am. Did you think I had just slap forgotten my password or something?

Um, I have SO much I want to tell you. Can't think of one thing right now.

Migraines? Getting MUCH better. Besides starting a medication as a preventative, I also am generally following the guidelines in this book (which is worth the click over for the cover photo alone). The title of the book is "Heal Your Headache: The 1-2-3 Solution." Part of the solution is to eliminate potential triggers from your diet. Not YOUR triggers, 'cause you likely don't know what they are, but any of a list of about a million six things that he, Mr. Migraine, says are. Which leaves me eating lots of meat and day-old bread (fresh bread is too yeasty, see). And I don't exactly like meat. So bread it is.

I actually have, by 'cheating' here and there, figured out one of my triggers and I am very, very sad. Almonds. Which explains why those mornings I had my healthy wheat toast with almond butter, I would be unable to go for a run... I'm too scared to see if peanuts are also a trigger which will eliminate peanut butter and, in short, most of the joy of life as I know it.

Blah, blah, I've found one or two more, Mr. Migraine also says if you are a migraine sufferer to get off of caffeine now and forever more and never look back. We'll see. I am currently off of caffeine... for.. I don't know (people keep asking me, but I swanny, I'm too groggy to tally it up) almost 3 weeks now? I keep waiting for that 'never felt better' and 'have so much energy' yada yada that people talk about. The basic problem is that I have established a very busy life that can only be maintained with a large dose of caffeine. Not sure how to remedy that. Summer is helping with lots of naps!

So soon I will regale you with stories of swim lessons, and what happened with the State Track meet and the Clyde relay teams, and so on and so forth, and why I got Pink Floyd's 'Brick in the Wall' stuck in my head last night.

So moving on. Back in the land of the living. Make it a great day!

Quote For Today

One of the many joys of Facebook has been finding out that one of those guys that was in 8th grade when I was a senior has become a really godly husband, father, and police officer. I have enjoyed hearing his thoughts. Today he posted a simple quote that really has me thinking:

"Most Christians don't have fellowship with God; they have fellowship with each other about God." - Paris Reidhead

Pooling in the Low Places

Y'all, I am a slug. I don't mean I'm lazy, I mean I am having issues trying to figure out my health that have taken every last little droplet of my energy (and blood pressure, evidently) and left me in a puddle on the floor. A totally healthy, migraine-free puddle, mind you, but a slug, as well.

All is not yet right with my health. I am getting there! I am finding how not to get migraines and how not to have energy. When I find out how to not get migraines AND have energy, I will completely be in business. Unfortunately, it requires a wee bit of energy to think through this process and try to solve the situation, and I don't seem to have any. I told the Lord today that I know He is in it and He will either lead me to a solution or give me enough strength to do His tasks for me each day. That's all I can ask for now.

So, while my brain is slogging through life, I shall just point you to someone else's words that I am still pondering. Evidently my brain isn't in TOO awful condition because these words were spoken yesterday at church, I interpreted them into sign language while simultaneously making a mental note to self: "Ooooh, that is GOOD. Remember for later."

I tried to find if this was recorded on video and if it was it hasn't been posted on our website yet.

Our congregation supports a ministry that was started by a young man who grew up in our congregation, along with his wife and another couple, who feels called to minister to the homeless. Matt Wallace, and his wife, Nikki still work with Dry Bones Denver.

Yesterday during church we connected with Matt using Skype. Matt was explaining why he and Nikki feel called to work with homeless and said (I'm quoting the best my muddled brain can remember):

"Nikki and I believe that grace is like water: it flows down and runs in streams and pools in the low places. That's where we want to be: in the low places."

Again, I was interpreting, but I really wanted to stop and ponder on grace pooling in the 'low places'. Isn't that the truth? Isn't that where grace is needed most and found most often?

My recent prayers have been to look like Jesus more every day. First, let me flat-out confess that I doubt that anyone around me would be able to tell that about me. But this statement made me think about that prayer. Where did Jesus aspire to go? The low places. Where could Jesus be found when not with his Father? The low places. If I am to look like Jesus, where should I strive to spend my time?

May I seek out the grace that has pooled in the low places today.

A Heavy Heart

Trying to head-off excess Google-age, I shall be a little cryptic in this post.

Back in February, I made what I thought was a flippant prediction about a certain family of multiples and America's fascination with them, and how much longer they had for reality TV shelf-life. Unfortunately, recent developments in the family have apparently increased America's fascination with the family, but seem to spell disaster for the family itself.

My heart aches and breaks for the family as America's fascination with the disaster seems to fuel the gossip and speculation of what is or isn't happening and the best course of action for all.

I don't know the truth or what has gone on in those walls. I have tried to glue a broken marriage back together -- with only two children in the home and no reporters camped out on the front lawn. It is still the hardest mental/ emotional thing I have ever walked through and there were MANY, many times I wanted to walk away because it was simply too hard to keep walking the way I was going. The prayers of people around me were the only things that carried me through.

I would encourage you now, when you see a picture of the famous family of multiples on a cover of a tabloid to stop and surround them in prayer. We don't know the truth, but I can guarantee you they need our prayers.

This is a great thought about the subject.

Follow Up/ Decision Made

For those of you who wondered about the valedictorian and salutatorian from Clyde, America, who had a tough decision to make regarding the state track meet and graduation, you can find out the decision they reached in the article here.

What Would You Do?

Because of the Swine Flu brou-ha-ha, the State Track meet for Texas was rescheduled for the weekend when many high schools have graduation ceremonies.

"Wow," I thought, "that totally stinks. But I would send my kid to the meet (assuming that was the kid's choice). How often do you get that kind of chance?"

However, an article in today's paper put a new light on it:

What if you were valedictorian or salutatorian of your class? And what if your qualifying event were a relay? And what if your qualifying time in the event was the best in the state?

A very small district not far from here, Clyde, America, is what we call it, has a male valedictorian who qualified for the state track meet with his 800-meter relay team with the 3rd best time in the state. Their female salutatorian's 800-meter relay team qualified with the best time in the state.

Tough decisions for 18 year olds.

Either way, they have honored their district and their families by their achievements, as well as their attitudes in the face of this decision. Way to go, Emily and P.J.!!

First Grade Dialog

Subbing in PE this week -- jury duty for PE teacher. No, I don't know what trial. He won't tell us -- that's why I would want him on my jury if I were on trial.

I'm also being reminded why I don't work full time. End of year excitement/ concerts/ talent shows on top of this is a LOT for my migrained brain. Hence the lack of blogging. But I had to share this.

Today the kids got some time to 'be active' if they were finished with their muscle test. Two kids shooting baskets:

Boy: Hey, AnneMarie, do you like Boston Terriers?

Girl: (disgusted) I don't know! I don't even watch basketball!

Smile! Enjoy! Have a great Thursday!

A Smile For Tuesday

I'm horribly busy, horribly tired, and confess I'm not spending a lot of time listening for God these days (though I spend a LOT of time pleading for "strength for the journey"). i could use these guys in my breakfast room to send me on my way with a smile...

Filling a Void

God spoke to me in a HUGE way last week and I hope I can convey it adequately here.

So I was interviewing Donnie Carroll, the children and family minister at my church, about teens and summer jobs. Not only is he a WONDERFUL minister for children and families, he has 7 children (and a grandbaby) and is an amazing parent, as well (along with his wife, Lisa). I was eager to seek his input for this article.

He talked about that since his kids were little they would have jobs to do and part of that is the kids learning to be part of a team – if you don’t do your job, then there’s a hole, or a void, there. Other people are disappointed, or can’t do their jobs if you don't do YOUR job if you work as a team type stuff, whatever. Great stuff, as is usual of him. Great for my article, great to hear as a parent.

But he paused in the middle and went ON and on – like embarrassingly so – about what a great writer he thinks I am, how easy my writing is to read, how I need to write a book, yada, yada. I told him that I really want to write a book, feel called by God to write a book, but have SO many doubts and reasons ‘why not’, blah, blah. I said what I always do, “I walk into Lifeway, look around, and think, ‘The world doesn’t need one more book.’”

His response knocked me flat: “Yeah, but Sarah, that’s just like when my kids don’t do their job. Your book may be that void that one person needs. If God is calling you to do it, it’s that void of not doing your job.”

Just whoa.

Really think about that in the overall realm of God's family. God gives each of us, His children, jobs to do here on earth (check out Ephesians 2:10 if you don't think He has stuff in mind for YOU to do). And we go about our business filling our calendars with our own things and pushing aside His nudging to do our own schedule and agenda.

I'm not a visionary, so I don't see it, but I CAN imagine that if all of God's family did all that God called us to do -- we would be the unstoppable force on this planet that Jesus prayed for us to be in John 17 when he prayed that we would all be one.

No matter what the success of the world may or may not look like, if we are NOT saying ‘yes’ when God calls us to do something – we’re the missing link on His team. We’re not filling the void.

I prayed to see Jesus that day. I definitely heard him. May you hear him today.

Good Things Out There

Y'all, I LOVE this commercial! I know it's nowhere CLOSE to the season it was intended for, but it just makes me laugh. Genius marketing. Kudos to the Cheese Council.


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As Promised

Here is the article I wrote about Christians dealing with faith and torture.

Oh, What a Night!

Last night was one of those 'lasts' (or 'only' if you are talking about per-child) of elementary school for our family.

One of the elementary schools in our town sponsors an area-wide 5th grade track meet as a fund raiser for their PTO. And, y'all, they have to make a KILLIN' doing this. Not my point, but you may want to consider it.

I adore both of my elementary school's PE teachers. Precious people with a heart for kids. A women teaches K-2 and a man teaches 3-5, but they team up on much of their work and work together well. The man has a daughter Ashley's age and has coached her in basketball. He is soft-spoken, a gentle spirit, but he is COMPETITIVE!! And he REALLY likes to win the 5th grade track meet.

Riley ran in the 100 m dash. We know the kid is fast and he did great. Oh, for perspective. There were 20 schools or groups (a running group of homeschool kids participated) in the meet. There were about 18 HEATS (9 runners each) of the 100 m dash for first girls, then boys. I am too tired to do the math -- it's a LOT of kids. Riley qualified for the finals! (You qualify by time, not by how you place in the heat).

A very long day indeed after those 36 heats of 100 m dashes. Then many, many other races of 200m, then 400m. At the 800, Ashley and I went to pick up dinner and bring it back. We got back just as the 4x100 relays for girls were starting. Riley was in the boys' relay team. His relay team qualified for the finals in THAT, too.

Finals were scheduled to start at 7 p.m. They started at 8:45 p.m. Riley ran HARD in the 100m, but was the last finisher. Not by a long way, but the last across. We talked about it and decided that 9th place out of 20 schools isn't too shabby.

If you don't know track meets -- well, you should, 'cause they are SO much fun. but the 4x100 relay is ALWAYS the last, and the boys is always the last one. So that was the last final. Riley was in the 100 final and one of his teammates was in the 200 final -- won it BIG -- and THEN in the 400 final and didn't appear to give that much effort. I didn't expect the relay team to do too well by the time their 9:40 start time rolled around. Boy, was I wrong! It was a great race, and Riley's team came in 2nd and another of his elementary team came in 1st. What a night.

It was another time I was able to see my child using his gifts and it was SO fun, but I love track meets for the stragglers. I am a straggler and would be tempted to simply walk off the track. But those guys don't. They struggle and try and strive and the crowd cheers and encourages and nudges them on. Track meets are a great way to spend an afternoon. Go find one soon.

At the ever-lovin' blessed FINAL end of the meet, medals were given for the finalists that placed 1st, 2nd, and 3rd on a little medal stand and everything. Being that there were still quite a few 5th grade girls around, there was a LOT of screaming that took place. After the medals were given out, the winner of the meet was announced. When it was announced that it was our little school, the kids (girls) SCREAMED and took off across the infield of the track...? Wha? Yes, they were heading to the other side of the track to go take a victory lap. Are you kidding me!

Then, coming around the track to where their sweet PE teacher was filming the madness, they started singing their school song. Cutest thing ever, and a memory that, even though it happened LONG after I like to be in my PJ's, I am SO thankful I saw.

Way to go, Raiders and most of all, Riley. So proud of you for giving it your all.

Thursday Check-In

Y'all, I would love to stay and chat, but life is continuing down the crazy trail.

Fifth Grade Talent Show auditions? Check.

Finish article about faith and torture? Check.

Migraine every day this week? Check.

So I am off today -- more talent show practice, more interviews for another article, and, blessedly, a doctor's appointment. There is preventive medicine for migraines, and I am praying that I get started on it TODAY. I have operated at 50-75% capacity enough in the last month to know that I am not emotionally ready to admit that to be my lot in life.

Then, this afternoon is the long-awaited fifth grade track meet. Every elementary school in the district sends their 5th graders to a track meet so the school can claim bragging rights for the year. I think running is one of those things my willowy 11 year old will be gifted in. Pulling for him!

Oh, and remember I requested a lovely bake sale to cover after an article on torture which came after an article about child abusers? Yes, so next week is the completely stress-free topic of when couples from two different faiths marry. Wowzer. That should stretch me...

I enjoyed everyone's thoughts and comments about the torture debate. More than anything, no matter where you 'land' on it, I know you have thought it through. That is what has blessed me so much in my interviews. I will link to my article, which should be published in the paper tomorrow.

Everyone have a great Thursday!

Selective Hearing

Watching our children develop their personalities has been such a fascinating study in genetics and nature vs. nurture. Ashley, first-born, is her daddy (also first-born) in MANY ways. Riley, the "baby", is just like me (also baby) in equally many ways. But when it comes to listening to conversations around you and/or directed TO you, our house has distinct gender lines.

Ashley and I (as seems to be typical of women) have conversation radar. We can listen to several dialogs at once, all the while mentally filing away important information or calendar items. Troy and Riley? Not so much with the radar. Riley reads EVERYWHERE we go (seriously, he is major bummed if he doesn't have a book in the car for the 4 minute drive to church) so we will have many deep and wonderful conversations in the car with Riley blissfully unaware. I have learned that if I NEED him to be aware of his conversation, I must tell him to tune in, then have him repeat what I need him to know. Bless. Troy, I have come to realize, is a visual, not auditory, learner. If I will email him information, he will process it better than if I tell him. Thank you, Lord, for technology!

All was explained recently when Riley looked at me quizzically at 7:30 on a recent morning. I had clothes AND make-up on. Very rare occurrence for that time of day, indeed. "Are you subbing today?" he asked. "Yes, Riley, I told you that."

"Well, I was probably reading, wasn't I? You KNOW I don't hear you..."

"No, Riley, we actually discussed it last night at dinner."

"Oh, well, I never pay attention to that..."

Good to know.

HOWEVER -- he was tattling to Ashley about me saying a curse word. I was indignant and denied it to the death. I would NEVER say such a word. Okay, I would, but not where he could hear. He finally said, "You were talking to dad. You whispered it, but I still heard you."

So, a conversation that I have looking into his eyeballs, he ignores. A conversation whispered to another person while I am 20 feet away -- now I know the rules.

Tossing Out a Grenade

We here at The Cleft of the Rock, Inc. steer away from hot-button topics. Mainly because Queen of the Rock doesn't do confrontation well (and avoids it if at all possible). I want all of my readers to be happy, happy, happy. This post may stir up some exuberant debate. I only ask that you remember you are replying to actual humans -- mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, someone's child-- when you write your reply/ answer.

Last week I turned in this article to the local paper about security in churches, based on the horrible story out of California where a young girl was kidnapped, assaulted, and murdered. The woman who did it turned out to be a local Sunday School teacher. That was a tough article to dig into and write about.

So this week I was assigned an article about this study that shows Christian's response to using torture politically during times of war, etc. So from child abuse(rs) to torture -- I have requested a bake sale next.

First, about the study, let me say: it is a ridiculously small, skewed sample size and has only served to stir up a fire storm. An example: it shows that 'white protestant males' are twice as likely to support torture 'sometimes or often' as those who are not affiliated with any church -- but they interviewed twice as many white protestant males as unaffiliated. I'm not saying the results are inaccurate, but I, personally, don't put a lot of weight into ANY poll of less than 1,000 people and even 1,000 is too small to fire up all the finger-pointing this study has.

CNN has, of course, featured it because it makes Christians appear to be two-faced and mean-spirited.

So, I have been asked to join in the firestorm and find out what local folks say around here (feel free to call me if you have an opinion! -- I can't use anyone with my same last name as a source, though!)

Let me say, too -- this is a topic I steer completely away from. I haven't thought through it enough to come down on either side, mainly because I know I wouldn't come down on the same side of the people I am closest to. I was very blessed by the first person I interviewed who expressed her thoughts kindly and articulately and with a scriptural reference to support her thoughts. Blessed my socks off. Oh -- she wasn't who I called to talk to. She was his wife, but I had to not use him so I could use her! You'll have to look at it on Friday to hear about it.

She mentioned the study, "Oh, yeah, that guy wrote about it in the paper yesterday." So I had to go dig through the paper to see what had already been said in the same paper that I was going to write an article for.

Man, oh man, I am glad I did. I ended up reading Leonard Pitts' column about Christians silence or tolerance of the issue. The thing that struck me the most was his invoking the memories of several other times in recent history when Christians SHOULD have been outspoken for the right and weren't: Germany in the late 1930's and early 1940's, the Southern States in the late 50's and early 60's, the early 80's through the AIDS threat.

I REALLY encourage you to read his article. And I'm always happy to hear what you think, as long as you remember to keep it kind.

Beginning of a Great Week

Oh, we are gearing up for end of school madness. In a fit of insanity, I reluctantly agreed to be in charge of the 5th Grade Talent Show at Riley's school. One very sweet empty-nester said, "Well, he'll never be this age again." To which I replied, "Yes, and I don't want to HATE one of the last activities he is in at elementary school, and I WILL by the time it gets here!" It's only 2 weeks out of my life. What else would I do, right?

Well, that is currently the question. I have mentioned here off and on that I have occasional migraines. In the last 8 weeks occasional has gone to regular to frequent. I am VERY blessed to have medication -- $10 per pill -- that effectively treats the pain of the migraine. I can be mostly pain-free within an hour, but it's the post-migraine "hangover" that kills me. I still haven't figured out if it's the medication or the migraine itself, but I lose at least the rest of the day, and frequently part of the next day being completely useless.

Unless you get them, I don't know how else to describe it besides limp dishrag syndrome! For an example: I'm not a TV watcher, and if I ever do sit to watch TV, I HAVE to have something else to do. Read a book, work on a crossword, paint my nails, whatever. I can't stand to sit idle in front of the flicking screen. Unless I am in post-migraine hangover, at which time keeping up with a flicking screen plot line is about all I can manage. I am completely void of energy. I can physically do the most important things -- I just can't think of what the most important thing is.

So the past few weeks I have been in migraine/ hangover/ realize all I didn't do during migraine/ hangover cycyle. It's not a great way to raise a family and not much of a way to live. Please don't hear me saying it's the worst thing ever. Oh, no, God keeps reminding me of MANY things that could be worse. But it is annoying. And expensive, at $10/pill.

I know that there are also medications that are migraine preventives -- a daily medication. One woman told me she quit taking them because they were $100/ month. I'm already spending $100/ month, and maybe I could prevent getting them. I don't know.

I'm also looking at external factors/ triggers I can control to eliminate -- chocolate (not much of a chocolate eater), caffeine (how sad would that be), aspartame (Diet Coke, even sadder), and many, many others. My head kind of hurts thinking about trying to figure it out!

So, that is my boring news, boring quest for this week: try to avoid getting a migraine. And that is why the blogging is becoming increasingly lame these days -- I can't think straight or I'm so busy catching up that I don't have time to write anything.

I'm still listening for the Lord, still appreciate teachers, and still have a rockin' family. Back tomorrow for more excitement!

Happy Mother's Day

This little project is specifically for my "earth-first" friend, Denise. Recycle your boxes, honor Mom. It just doesn't get any better than that.

Denise, while you're bein' all crafty-like, please whip us up some ice cream or coffee cup cozies. We could give them to Mom OR for Teacher Appreciation. Either one.

This is a sweet video that the AMAZING videographer-dude at our church put together (who also featured Baby Benton up there). I'm in here. And, more importantly, my hair is really cute. First, the guy is amazing because I simply tripped over my words and mumbled and muttered and he actually made me appear to be able to string two sentences together. That was nice. Also, it made me incredibly thankful for the godly women I call 'sister' in my congregation. My own mother is 500 miles away. I know how she would do much of this parenting business, but it is such a blessing to walk beside these women and watch them raise their children in the Lord. I LOVE what beautiful Valerie says in here: Having children keeps you close to the Lord since you are constantly in prayer for them. Amen!

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For Mother's Day

in this month's Abilene Families: (originally written May, 2006)

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!

Book Review: Playing for Pizza

First, I seem to have gained a few new readers in an unlikely place: my statistics tell me that my blog has become popular with some of the Catholic schools in my hometown. So, St. Fred's and Jesus the Good Shepherd folks -- welcome to the Cleft of the Rock! Y'all! You are MY PEEPS! My parents live less than half a mile from Jesus the Good Shepherd, so you're on my walking route when I'm visiting. The campus looks AMAZING lately, by the way! And St. Fred's -- y'all were SO our rivals in high school, but it was all in fun, right? Go Warriors!

I suspect that many of you found my blog through my writing about teachers. If you teach at one of those schools, many blessings on you!

Now -- a book review!

Playing for Pizza by John Grisham.

Meh.

A)It's about football. B) It's set in Italy (that was actually the fun part of it). C)Not mystery.

It is probably the least likely Grisham novel ever. I skimmed the football parts, but came to love the character (like most of Grisham's characters). I think Grisham must have traveled and/ or lived in Italy recently. This is the second novel of his I have read that is set in Italy. Can't remember the other. Truthfully, it is all so unfamiliar to me that it's hard for me to get into it. HOWEVER -- his description of the rich foods may cause weight gain!

I think it came in someone's stocking at Christmas. It was a fun, quick read. Easy on the brain and a nice paperback diversion.

For the Teachers

This week is teacher appreciation week. Every year I promise myself that starting in April I will get all of my ducks in a row and do something excessively wonderful for all of my children's teachers. And every April looks just like last April where I finish out the month with disheveled hair, wild eyes, and torn clothes, screaming, "What the heck was THAT????" Oy.

So I have yet to do anything excessively wonderful for my children's teachers -- this year or any other-- but I do appreciate them so.

I always tell people that my philosophy on choosing how to educate your children (public, private, or home) is to do it prayerfully and carefully, and be willing to admit at any moment that it is no longer working for your family and change gears.

Thus far, we have been in public schools. Thus far, I still cannot believe how blessed my children have been with teachers and administrators. I do not request or choose teachers for my children, I pray and let God -- the One who knit them and knew them before I did -- choose my children's teachers for them. He has never failed.

Yes, my children are my responsibility. Beyond my responsibility, they are little pieces of my heart out walking around on this planet. But research tells us that the more adults my children have that take an interest in their lives and have a relationship with my children, the more successful they will be in all areas of life. And my children's teachers have not disappointed.

To you, precious people, words are not enough to thank you. How do you say 'thank you for being a brush stroke and background lighting for this masterpiece of a human'? How can I tell each of you that your delight in my child's successes and strengths fanned into flame a passion that will carry them into adulthood? You have pointed out strengths that Mom doesn't see (yet!) and pushed them along and kept them from doing 'just enough'.

My children do school well. What an amazing blessing. But it's also a danger -- the potential is there to blend into the background and be forgotten and ignored as one simply "going along to get along". None of you have LET my children blend into the background. You have encouraged and cheered, praised and prodded, expected the best and never accepted the worst.

I have done your job. That is why I am now not doing your job. It is NOT for the faint of heart (or weary of foot). It is for people with tender hearts, thick skin, and a million hugging arms. It is for people with cast iron stomachs, bladders of elastic, and Solomon's wisdom.

I know that by this time of year you don't want to be appreciated by any way other than a day away from these people and you wonder if you would actually come back. But for some crazy reason, back you come. Sometimes you wonder if it's just your car coming out of habit.

You have no idea. Even at middle school level, you wouldn't believe how much I hear about you and the things you say. How you touch my child's life and shape their values by what you find funny, the way you treat other students, and even the music played in your class. How your sad days will make my tender-hearted child's heart ache until you are smiling again.

Some of you live in my neighborhood, worship at our church, exercise at my gym, shop at my grocery store, have children at the same schools. We see you and feel like a part of your life. You are a part of my family. A beloved part of my family (not the crazy faction that we try to keep from visiting). And I am part of yours -- if for no other reason than the fact that you have given your all to my children and there is precious little of you left by the end of the day. Thank you for that, and thank your family for us, too.

I can't say thank you enough or adequately. But I do thank you, and pray frequently for you. This time of year, my prayer is "strength for the journey". May you truly have strength for your journey, and countless blessings in your life for the blessing you are in mine.

I thank my God every time I remember you.

Philippians 1:3

What I'm Hearing

I spent most of Saturday alone. I didn't even plan to, which is probably best. If I had planned on it, I would have had grand plans, then frittered them away on playing Scramble on the iphone or some such nonsense.

Troy was helping friends move 'the big stuff' and I wasn't really into 'the big stuff' so I went over to the being-moved-out-of house to clean some. I got there just as all the guys had one load of big stuff loaded and were leaving. So I cleaned alone for a few hours. And thought. And listened for God.

I went and grabbed some lunch (and loaded a book into my Kindle app on my phone and man-oh-man, could Amazon's one-touch purchasing of Kindle books get me in HUGE trouble!). I did a little shopping and wound up at the gym to do my workout. Still alone. Still thinking. Still listening.

And guess what? God spoke! I'm sure He's been speaking all along, and I am just re-learning to hear Him. I had such precious time listening and being directed, led, and loved.

Then Sunday.

Sunday should be a GREAT time to hear God, right? And I did. What a PRECIOUS Sunday it was. Service was beautiful and I was immensely blessed. However, the rest of my Sunday looked like many other days with meetings and gatherings and driving kids hither and yon. And this I discovered: it is way harder to hear God's voice in the middle of the madness. Or maybe I heard His voice, but just didn't want to obey.

While I'm still re-learning to hear God's voice, the busy-ness is too hard. It all comes flying at me and relationships, commitments, and obligations bring up my own past hurts, bitterness, and selfishness.

So, thankfully, Lamentations 3:22 tells me that God's mercies are new every morning. So I sit in the quiet and re-learn His voice, and learn again to listen in the middle of the madness.

I want to KNOW Him and know the sound of His voice so that the gentle whisper is most prominent inside my head.

The LORD said, "Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the LORD, for the LORD is about to pass by." Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the LORD, but the LORD was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper. When Elijah heard it, he pulled his cloak over his face and went out and stood at the mouth of the cave. 1 Kings 19:11-13

The Lord is in the gentle whisper, which can be oh-so-hard to hear. May you hear it today.

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Some resources that have been beneficial recently have been the book that goes with this study: What Happens When Women Say Yes to God, by Lysa TerKeurst.

Also, Leigh Gray of Speaking Thru Me ministries had a post along these lines.

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When I mentioned Tucker's encouragement for us to find ways to spend May giving, I said I would commit a post a week to that -- and I plan to. However, today would be a great day for you to visit Trey's blog to find a reason to give.

I'm BACK!

Things you missed me blogging about:

Being asked when my baby was due. Um, not pregnant, but thanks.

Winning a $25 gas card from Meals on Wheels!

Refusing to participate in Swine Flu -- the panic OR the virus. Either one. I refuse.

Having some fun girlfriend time for the first time in a LONG time.

Hearing Sheila Walsh speak. Wow. Remind me to walk back through that. Amazing.

Ditching the DISH!

Amazing time to really listen to God. I finally did it! And that's why I took a bloggy break!

Starting an online Bible study.

And, this isn't much of a return. Sunday was BRUTAL -- 8 a.m. to 9:30 p.m. basically away from the house. Not much of a day of rest. Today starts Teacher Appreciation and return to deadlines and real life. Oh, I didn't want to participate in Swine flu, but I have grand plans for a Swine flu quarantine in case school is canceled for a week or so. I'm ready. I've got closets to clean out and cabinets to organize. Bring it on! Oink!

Wish I could make my return a little more exciting. Gotta pace myself. What about you? Any of you hearing from God lately?

Good Things Out There

(shhh... I'm not really here!)

I couldn't NOT post some of this bloggy excellence on my 'Good Things' list.

I keep linking to Trey's blog. Because he's genius. And because he has a passion for godly marriages to stay intact. Love what he says here.

I've never actually met Trey. Or Tucker. But I know they both have a heart of gold.

Here's Tucker's evidence. Read this and make plans for May to be your month to GIVE!

My dad sent me this video. Love it!


If you would like to add your 'Good Thing' button to your blog, copy the code into an 'HTML' box on your sidebar:
<a border="0" href="http://www.sarahstirman.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://i341.photobucket.com/albums/o397/SarahSti/blogbuttongoodthing-Page002.jpg" /></a>

Quote for the Day

Forgiveness doesn't make the other person right, it makes youfree. -- Stormie Omartian

My Man

Obviously, Troy is one of my favorite writing subjects. Not only is he a precious gift from God, my relationship with him teaches me a lot about myself. Here is one of my favorite stories about him, written two years ago:

Our Ashley is adult-sized. She is not adult shaped, and, at barely 11, isn't an adult, but she is adult sized. Over 5' tall and in ladies clothes that do not fit because she isn't shaped like a lady yet, but the girl that she still is. She is still getting used to those long legs and ginormous feet that she inherited from her mother.

Last night, due to events we will never understand other than the earth's gravity, Ashley's feet came completely out from under her while she was walking into the kitchen. She had both hands full, so the entirity of her adult-sized body landed on her tailbone on our tile floor. As Troy and I stood over her trying to help her and determine what happened it quickly became obvious that even if there WERE something you could do for an injured tailbone, we didn't know what it was, and watching her cry and writhe in pain was heartbreaking.

So Troy squatted down and, without even audibly groaning, scooped up her adult-sized body as if she were still 3 or 4 and carried her to a more comfortable spot
-because she's his baby girl
-because she needed him
-because he's the daddy.

I also wrote about Troy in:
When the Oceans Rise and Thunders Roar

I've Become the Other Woman

Forgiveness