You know that phrase, "While the cat's away, the mice will play?" We girls ain't exactly playin' just yet. Tony and Nick flew to Guatemala earlier than normal people crack their eyes open on Friday. Their mission: to serve in a children's home playing with children and completing other projects as needed. Our mission while the boys are on such a self-sacrificing trip: to par-tay and have girl fun which of course includes shopping!
Unfortunately, we haven't fulfilled our mission just yet because we have embarked on a painting project in Alix' bedroom and bathroom. My aching muscles are telling me to stop, but there are more walls screaming for color. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel now, however. The hot pink walls have been replaced with a nice soft medium blue faux look, and all that remains is slapping yellow on the bathroom walls. I'll let Alix transform her trashed bedroom back into some semblance of order.
Meanwhile, for Maddie, Daddy away means..."sleepover" with mommy. Not a problem with a king-size bed usually. I typically like have the girls take turns spending the night with me, but last night, I was a softie. Alix' bed is covered with various wall decor, stuffed animals and other girly items and thus, completely uninhabitable. And, poor Maddie, who lost her 3rd tooth last night, looked so pitiful and was just begging to have a ginormous sleepover in the big king-size bed. So, I caved, and we all snuggled into the big bed. Maddie rattled on about the tooth fairy and how the tooth fairy knows Jesus just like Santa does and therefore, would be able to find her in my bed instead of her own bed, etc, etc. She placed her tooth underneath the pillow in the middle. I had stashed a dollar on the side table next to me in preparation for the sneaky trade at midnight. (I have forgotten to replace the tooth with a dollar before and have had to do some quick thinking and perhaps even a little truth-stretching. Thus, enter the morning tooth fairy.)
Truth fairy aside, a king-size bed is NOT a comfortable spot for three girls...one who snores (Alix), one who riggles and suffocates her mom (Maddie), and one who is hugging the edge of the bed with no where else to go (me)! From this point forward, only one child at a time will enjoy a sleepover with mom because we all know that mom's need their beauty sleep.
Today also marks the last day of painting which means that tonight the girls can being par-taying! Is it significant that it also just happens to be New Year's Eve as well? Tonight, we will bring in the new year by pigging out on good food, watching IU play in the Insight Bowl, staying up until midnight, making resolutions, and par-taying only to start our diets the next day and break our resolutions in the weeks to come. Resolution number one after painting...go shopping! See you at the mall...
Speaking of resolutions, I don't know if you are a resolution-maker, goal-setter or whatever you want to call it, but I am fickle from year to year. Last year, my goal was to reduce my cholesterol level which I did through eating a grotesque amount of beans and huge amounts of fruit and vegetables. This year, I haven't been that introspective. Must be the paint fumes getting to my brain. In fact, the only plan in place for 2008 is for our family to read the One Year Bible. Perhaps that's enough. If the 4 of us readers can daily be in the word, allowing the alive and active Word to penetrate our hearts and minds, our roots in Christ will be that much deeper and stronger by the end of the year. Yep, that's a most worthy goal indeed.
Monday, December 31, 2007
Saturday, December 29, 2007
Reflective Reading
I am a huge reader. In fact, I begin to get the shakes when I am nearing the end of a book and realize that I don't have one ready to go on the shelf. Not only that, but I am sad as I close the last page because my life has become intertwined and intimately involved with the characters of the story. Most of the time I read Christian fiction, choosing to check the books out at my local library, simply because my book budget isn't quite large enough to accommodate my addiction.
Lately, however, I've read several biographies that have been most interesting. Because I am a fanatical American Idol watcher, I recently read Mandisa's IdolEyes, which gave me insight not only into her path to the American Idol show but also her great faith as a follower of Jesus. A friend loaned me a biography of C.S. Lewis called Jack, which was written by his stepson. While I've read the Narnia books and several others by Lewis, I had never really read about his life and what made him the man and writer that he was. It was a fascinating story which caused me to appreciate Lewis and his writings all the more. His life was full of pain and sorrow, yet he was determined to live for God. Last but not least, I just finished the book, Mosaic, by Amy Grant which totally enraptured me.
I grew up on Amy Grant's music. I hadn't realized until reading her book that she began singing and song writing at a young age and thus, while I was listening to her as a teen, she was only about 3 years older than I. I have followed her music all my young life, purchasing every tape/CD she has cut so far. Although I knew about her divorce from Gary Chapman, I hadn't realized until reading her story how her life has paralleled mine...except for the singing of course! About the same time she was experiencing her separation and divorce, I was going through mine. And, her second chance at love with Vince Gill occurred during the same time frame as my remarriage to Tony. I connected with her on many levels because of our similar circumstances.
Mosaics is extremely thought-provoking. Amy doesn't claim to have her life all together and admits her failings. She is also not an ex-basher, nor does she air any of her previous marriage's dirty laundry. In fact, she doesn't go into any specifics about why it ended. I appreciate that she talks openly about it, yet not with details. It's certainly a lesson to me about transparency without the dirty details!
In one chapter of her book, Amy discusses her shortcomings in regard to a consistent quiet time with God, yet she shares some specifics on how she greets the day by going outside each morning and emphasizing different words in the phrase, "This is the day the Lord has made." After this "wake-up call", she says the Lord's Prayer. This was so poignant to me that I am including it in my blog, so here it is. I pray this means as much to you as it has to me.
"Our Father who art in heaven."
Our Father. All of us, everyone who's ever lived or died ~ we share him. We are his. Whether we are lovable or unlovable, whether we agree or disagree, saint or reprobate ~ all of us have the same Father, our Father who art in heaven.
"Hallowed be thy name."
Holy. Set apart. The Great Other. I can't even say "Hallowed be thy name" without thinking of all the times in the course of a day when I inadvertently say, "Oh my God." This is my time to say, "I'm sorry for throwing your name around."
"Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done."
What do I know about God's kingdom? The first shall be last, the greatest is the servant of all. Whoever loses his life for Jesus' sake will find it. This all seems upside down to me. Here my prayer becomes, "Help me see my world the way you do, to look at the heart and not the exterior."
"Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven."
I can assume that at any given moment what's happening in heaven is exactly what God wants to be happening. But here on earth, with all of us roaming around with our loads of free will, we have the option of saying either, "I think today I'll just be about what I want to do," or, "Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done." It makes me take a deep breath and consider my to-do list, the things that I find important, the ways that I plan to invest myself.
By myself, all I have is my own knowledge, my own experience, my own vantage point. How narrow. If I am on an eternal time line with things of eternal significance happening all around me, why would I want to be confined by my limited perspective? How much better to speak these words: "Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Let me be a part of your plan. I'd rather not be limited to just my own."
"Give us this day our daily bread."
My daily bread. Whatever I need this day. God sees it better than I can. Maybe my daily bread includes rest, maybe peace, patience, direction, creativity, work, wisdom. Even more, he can see what I don't need, the things I wander after; the things that swallow up the hours and leave me empty. "Whatever you know that I need today, I'm asking for it."
"Forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors."
This sounds like a black-and-white equation. Forgive me the way I forgive. Yikes. Is Jesus teaching me a lesson even in the prayer he taught me to pray?
What do I feel I'm owed? Where have I invested myself with no return? From whom do I honestly believe that I deserve an apology or a thank you? What tally sheet am I hanging on to? Can I react to any expectation ~ anything that I think I'm owed ~ with the same ocean of mercy that's been poured over me? I need grace to see the entire debt that I have been forgiven, so that I can extend that same mercy to someone else. Burn the tally sheet. Mercy doesn't keep score. "I forgive my debtors. Thank you for forgiving me."
"And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil."
I don't understand the mystery of how God works, but I pray how Jesus told me to. "Lead us not into temptation. Don't take me somewhere that's dangerous for me. Don't give me what I'm asking for if I can't handle it."
"Deliver us from evil."
I think about a baby being delivered ~ pushing and shoving and womb walls squeezing in. Then it is delivered into the hands of a waiting family. Is that how we are delivered from evil? Am I coming through this world pushed in on every side, and it's messy and crazy and sometimes looks as much like death as life? "Deliver us from evil. Find us safe passage. See me safely through."
"For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory forever."
All of this is God's. It's his to rule. He alone is capable of finishing this thing he started. "God, you deserve endless gratitude and celebration from all your creation. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you."
Amen."
Woven throughout thoughts like this are poetry and songs Amy has written. Full of stories from her childhood and adult life, this book gives the reader just a glimpse into her life so far. While her reminiscences are an entertaining read, she also relates to the reader in a way that is real. Need something to read that will cause you to reflect? You won't be disappointed if you stay up late reading Mosaics!
Lately, however, I've read several biographies that have been most interesting. Because I am a fanatical American Idol watcher, I recently read Mandisa's IdolEyes, which gave me insight not only into her path to the American Idol show but also her great faith as a follower of Jesus. A friend loaned me a biography of C.S. Lewis called Jack, which was written by his stepson. While I've read the Narnia books and several others by Lewis, I had never really read about his life and what made him the man and writer that he was. It was a fascinating story which caused me to appreciate Lewis and his writings all the more. His life was full of pain and sorrow, yet he was determined to live for God. Last but not least, I just finished the book, Mosaic, by Amy Grant which totally enraptured me.
I grew up on Amy Grant's music. I hadn't realized until reading her book that she began singing and song writing at a young age and thus, while I was listening to her as a teen, she was only about 3 years older than I. I have followed her music all my young life, purchasing every tape/CD she has cut so far. Although I knew about her divorce from Gary Chapman, I hadn't realized until reading her story how her life has paralleled mine...except for the singing of course! About the same time she was experiencing her separation and divorce, I was going through mine. And, her second chance at love with Vince Gill occurred during the same time frame as my remarriage to Tony. I connected with her on many levels because of our similar circumstances.
Mosaics is extremely thought-provoking. Amy doesn't claim to have her life all together and admits her failings. She is also not an ex-basher, nor does she air any of her previous marriage's dirty laundry. In fact, she doesn't go into any specifics about why it ended. I appreciate that she talks openly about it, yet not with details. It's certainly a lesson to me about transparency without the dirty details!
In one chapter of her book, Amy discusses her shortcomings in regard to a consistent quiet time with God, yet she shares some specifics on how she greets the day by going outside each morning and emphasizing different words in the phrase, "This is the day the Lord has made." After this "wake-up call", she says the Lord's Prayer. This was so poignant to me that I am including it in my blog, so here it is. I pray this means as much to you as it has to me.
"Our Father who art in heaven."
Our Father. All of us, everyone who's ever lived or died ~ we share him. We are his. Whether we are lovable or unlovable, whether we agree or disagree, saint or reprobate ~ all of us have the same Father, our Father who art in heaven.
"Hallowed be thy name."
Holy. Set apart. The Great Other. I can't even say "Hallowed be thy name" without thinking of all the times in the course of a day when I inadvertently say, "Oh my God." This is my time to say, "I'm sorry for throwing your name around."
"Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done."
What do I know about God's kingdom? The first shall be last, the greatest is the servant of all. Whoever loses his life for Jesus' sake will find it. This all seems upside down to me. Here my prayer becomes, "Help me see my world the way you do, to look at the heart and not the exterior."
"Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven."
I can assume that at any given moment what's happening in heaven is exactly what God wants to be happening. But here on earth, with all of us roaming around with our loads of free will, we have the option of saying either, "I think today I'll just be about what I want to do," or, "Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done." It makes me take a deep breath and consider my to-do list, the things that I find important, the ways that I plan to invest myself.
By myself, all I have is my own knowledge, my own experience, my own vantage point. How narrow. If I am on an eternal time line with things of eternal significance happening all around me, why would I want to be confined by my limited perspective? How much better to speak these words: "Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Let me be a part of your plan. I'd rather not be limited to just my own."
"Give us this day our daily bread."
My daily bread. Whatever I need this day. God sees it better than I can. Maybe my daily bread includes rest, maybe peace, patience, direction, creativity, work, wisdom. Even more, he can see what I don't need, the things I wander after; the things that swallow up the hours and leave me empty. "Whatever you know that I need today, I'm asking for it."
"Forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors."
This sounds like a black-and-white equation. Forgive me the way I forgive. Yikes. Is Jesus teaching me a lesson even in the prayer he taught me to pray?
What do I feel I'm owed? Where have I invested myself with no return? From whom do I honestly believe that I deserve an apology or a thank you? What tally sheet am I hanging on to? Can I react to any expectation ~ anything that I think I'm owed ~ with the same ocean of mercy that's been poured over me? I need grace to see the entire debt that I have been forgiven, so that I can extend that same mercy to someone else. Burn the tally sheet. Mercy doesn't keep score. "I forgive my debtors. Thank you for forgiving me."
"And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil."
I don't understand the mystery of how God works, but I pray how Jesus told me to. "Lead us not into temptation. Don't take me somewhere that's dangerous for me. Don't give me what I'm asking for if I can't handle it."
"Deliver us from evil."
I think about a baby being delivered ~ pushing and shoving and womb walls squeezing in. Then it is delivered into the hands of a waiting family. Is that how we are delivered from evil? Am I coming through this world pushed in on every side, and it's messy and crazy and sometimes looks as much like death as life? "Deliver us from evil. Find us safe passage. See me safely through."
"For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory forever."
All of this is God's. It's his to rule. He alone is capable of finishing this thing he started. "God, you deserve endless gratitude and celebration from all your creation. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you."
Amen."
Woven throughout thoughts like this are poetry and songs Amy has written. Full of stories from her childhood and adult life, this book gives the reader just a glimpse into her life so far. While her reminiscences are an entertaining read, she also relates to the reader in a way that is real. Need something to read that will cause you to reflect? You won't be disappointed if you stay up late reading Mosaics!
Friday, December 28, 2007
A Little Anecdote or Two
Anecdote 1
A couple of weeks ago I noticed a towel placed underneath our silk ficus tree. "What's that towel doing under the silk tree, Tony?" "Oh, Maddie tried to water it."
Anecdote 2
Maddie came home from school on the last Friday before Christmas break, saw me vacuuming her room and asked me to turn it off because she had something exciting to tell me. I, not wanting to break my cleaning rhythm, asked her to tell me with the vacuum running. "Look what I got!" she said showing me a tube of mini M&M's. "I won all the tests today!" It seems she's confused between taking tests and "earning" a good grade and "winning" something.
Anecdote 3
Tony and I were ordering food at a deli in town when he asked about the soups. He settled on the Chicken Tortilla soup, then promptly asked the server if it contained any meat. I looked at Tony, saying, "Yeah, it has 'chicken' in it." I guess it had been a stressful day for him, and it was too much for him to grasp. I'm wondering if he's been coloring his hair dark to cover up the blonde. I'm so glad that I have someone I can relate to in my family besides my daughter, Alix.
A couple of weeks ago I noticed a towel placed underneath our silk ficus tree. "What's that towel doing under the silk tree, Tony?" "Oh, Maddie tried to water it."
Anecdote 2
Maddie came home from school on the last Friday before Christmas break, saw me vacuuming her room and asked me to turn it off because she had something exciting to tell me. I, not wanting to break my cleaning rhythm, asked her to tell me with the vacuum running. "Look what I got!" she said showing me a tube of mini M&M's. "I won all the tests today!" It seems she's confused between taking tests and "earning" a good grade and "winning" something.
Anecdote 3
Tony and I were ordering food at a deli in town when he asked about the soups. He settled on the Chicken Tortilla soup, then promptly asked the server if it contained any meat. I looked at Tony, saying, "Yeah, it has 'chicken' in it." I guess it had been a stressful day for him, and it was too much for him to grasp. I'm wondering if he's been coloring his hair dark to cover up the blonde. I'm so glad that I have someone I can relate to in my family besides my daughter, Alix.
It Doesn't Feel Like Christmas, Day 5
Similar to a trilogy, this is the third and final excerpt in my thrilling Christmas saga. I'm confident many tears will be shed as the last sentence of this fast-paced drama is read. Unfortunately, the ending of this story is quite anti-climactic.
Aside from saving three presents for Maddie to open on this special day, it felt nothing like Christmas. Santa came Friday night, if you recall. Nick and Alix had flown to California. With three people left behind, it was hardly worth it to have a big Christmas dinner. Sigh! I had been complaining (yes, it's true...me...complaining) to Tony early in the week that I WAS NOT looking forward to Christmas Day. It's just not the same without my entire family here. It's way too quiet, even with my loudest child still at home.
So, we slept late; we ate cold cereal for breakfast; we made the traditional Christmas morning hot cocoa. That was about the only tradition we kept. After Maddie opened her last gifts, we did something we never have done before but might become a new tradition every other year when the older kids are away on Christmas. We traipsed out on an unusually warm day in December for Indiana to a movie, Alvin and the Chipmunks. I never realized how many people actually go to movies on Christmas Day. It was a great way to get over my pity party.
It would've been an even more perfect ending to Christmas if a restaurant would've been open to feed us after the movie, but alas, not a car was parked nor a light on at any establishment we drove by. It was home to leftover ham for us...again.
The grand finale to our night was our Wii bowling tournament. Maddie tried to coax us into playing Barbie's with her, but we absolutely and most adamantly refused. She compromised by putting on a fashion show with her Barbie's modelling their new clothes. She bowled in between outfits and actually placed 2nd in our tournament. Guess who was the big loser?
So, Christmas felt like any other normal day in our lives with all the excitement of the season happening days before. But, you know what? Although it was different from what I desired it to be, it was a good day nevertheless. It was definitely more quiet than what I'm currently blogging to...Alix and Maddie performing karaoke to High School Musical 2! Oh, for some peace and quiet...
Aside from saving three presents for Maddie to open on this special day, it felt nothing like Christmas. Santa came Friday night, if you recall. Nick and Alix had flown to California. With three people left behind, it was hardly worth it to have a big Christmas dinner. Sigh! I had been complaining (yes, it's true...me...complaining) to Tony early in the week that I WAS NOT looking forward to Christmas Day. It's just not the same without my entire family here. It's way too quiet, even with my loudest child still at home.
So, we slept late; we ate cold cereal for breakfast; we made the traditional Christmas morning hot cocoa. That was about the only tradition we kept. After Maddie opened her last gifts, we did something we never have done before but might become a new tradition every other year when the older kids are away on Christmas. We traipsed out on an unusually warm day in December for Indiana to a movie, Alvin and the Chipmunks. I never realized how many people actually go to movies on Christmas Day. It was a great way to get over my pity party.
It would've been an even more perfect ending to Christmas if a restaurant would've been open to feed us after the movie, but alas, not a car was parked nor a light on at any establishment we drove by. It was home to leftover ham for us...again.
The grand finale to our night was our Wii bowling tournament. Maddie tried to coax us into playing Barbie's with her, but we absolutely and most adamantly refused. She compromised by putting on a fashion show with her Barbie's modelling their new clothes. She bowled in between outfits and actually placed 2nd in our tournament. Guess who was the big loser?
So, Christmas felt like any other normal day in our lives with all the excitement of the season happening days before. But, you know what? Although it was different from what I desired it to be, it was a good day nevertheless. It was definitely more quiet than what I'm currently blogging to...Alix and Maddie performing karaoke to High School Musical 2! Oh, for some peace and quiet...
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Christmas Fun and Festivities, Days 2,3,4
I scanned the entryway of our home. Duffel bags of all shapes and sizes were scattered haphazardly about. Shoes from little and big folk were strewn across the area rugs. Hmmmm...Bella could sure have some fun chewing up and hiding some of these shoes. I inwardly sighed (if that is possible) as I briefly thought about the days I spent cleaning our home and the seconds it was already being trashed. Oh well.I have this thing, this issue of my house being absolutely perfect for guests...clean
ed, vacuumed, dusted...not at all like I normally live. I've realized lately that the only time I REALLY clean is when company is coming! A couple of times a year isn't so bad, is it? I hope I haven't caused some of you dust bunny freaks to go into shock, but that's the way it is around here. In fact, I probably shouldn't go into great detail about the grotesque things growing in my daughter's bathroom before I transformed it. I gently had to tell her that perhaps she should begin cleaning her bathroom a little more often. And, perhaps you can tell me why instead of throwing trash in the trashcan, Alix uses it to decorate her room?
ed, vacuumed, dusted...not at all like I normally live. I've realized lately that the only time I REALLY clean is when company is coming! A couple of times a year isn't so bad, is it? I hope I haven't caused some of you dust bunny freaks to go into shock, but that's the way it is around here. In fact, I probably shouldn't go into great detail about the grotesque things growing in my daughter's bathroom before I transformed it. I gently had to tell her that perhaps she should begin cleaning her bathroom a little more often. And, perhaps you can tell me why instead of throwing trash in the trashcan, Alix uses it to decorate her room? In essence, I spruce up the house for 2 1/2 days while it takes approximately 30 seconds for total destruction to take place. Mind you, I'm really not complaining. Heavens no! I actually enjoy entertain
ing the Stonger family for Christmas. Cousins play nonstop for two days, open gifts for each other, and actually get along. Siblings play vicious ping pong tournaments, engage in strategic games like Blokus and Spades, and war each other in the Dirty Santa gift exchange. Besides feasting on the best food this side of Lake Monroe, we dialogue in discussions of theology, politics, and whether plastic cups with the family's names on them should be recycled for next year. I seemed to be the object of derision on that topic since I have issues with reused plasticware.
ing the Stonger family for Christmas. Cousins play nonstop for two days, open gifts for each other, and actually get along. Siblings play vicious ping pong tournaments, engage in strategic games like Blokus and Spades, and war each other in the Dirty Santa gift exchange. Besides feasting on the best food this side of Lake Monroe, we dialogue in discussions of theology, politics, and whether plastic cups with the family's names on them should be recycled for next year. I seemed to be the object of derision on that topic since I have issues with reused plasticware. Everyone apparently finds pleasure in having a big slumber party at our house, so they all spend the night and leave some time the next day, which happened to be Christm
as Eve. After a big breakfast casserole, fruit salad and homemade Christmas coffee cake, the last Wii boxing games are sparred, the final ping pong games decided and the Spades games are endured. (I say this because I was on the losing team.) For some reason, a few stragglers purposely wait until after the leftover ham lunch is served before trekking back to various points in Indiana. For me, this reduces the number of days I have left with absolutely no cooking. We may have to revisit the check-out time from the Stonger hotel for next year.
as Eve. After a big breakfast casserole, fruit salad and homemade Christmas coffee cake, the last Wii boxing games are sparred, the final ping pong games decided and the Spades games are endured. (I say this because I was on the losing team.) For some reason, a few stragglers purposely wait until after the leftover ham lunch is served before trekking back to various points in Indiana. For me, this reduces the number of days I have left with absolutely no cooking. We may have to revisit the check-out time from the Stonger hotel for next year. By 2:30 pm Christmas Eve day, all was calm and quiet, not a creature was stirring, not even me! In fact, I believe I was on the couch passed out from too much excitement. Either that or I fainted after viewing the disaster in the basement. Still, I picked myself up by my bootstraps and began putting the house back together while Tony and Maddie boxed, bowled and played tennis on Wii.
A perfect ending to a memorable family Christmas culminated in attending the Christmas Eve service. Amid the hustle and bustle of the past few days, cooking and cleaning, giving and receiving gifts, enjoying food and conversation, I was reminded again about the Reason for the season. The baby born at Christmas took on human skin just for me. He was the ultimate gift and for that, I am eternally blessed.
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Christmas Festivities, Day 1
Our Christmas celebration began Friday evening, lasting for 5 days! We enjoyed feasting at Applebee's compliments of Great Grandma's gift card. Somehow during that meal, Santa and his reindeer landed early at our house, dumping our stockings full of presents. How could he possibly know that Nick and Alix were leaving for California before dawn even breaks the next morning? He is so smart! There were even gifts in my stocking which is extremely uncharacteristic of Santa. Most years I help Santa with filling my beautiful sock because he's not quite on the ball. However, this year he surprised me! I just love my Santa baby...
Before we commenced with opening gifts, we planned to read the Christmas story in Luke 2. Maddie became a little confused as evidenced by the beginning of her version of the story, "It was the night before Christmas and all through the house..."
Nick, playing Santa, passed gifts to each person one by one until Alix took over his job, not satisfied with his organizational skills! There was a lot of oohing and ahhing over the gifts, hugs and kisses and Maddie hovering like a bee with a flower over whomever happened to have a gift she could assist them in opening. Each of us kept shooing the bee away, but it kept returning. The big gifts this year were a karaoke machine for Maddie, a digital camera for Alix and the big tamale Wii for Nick. That Nick had a Wii to open is a miracle story.
The Wii, like its cousins the XBox and Playstation, have been in such great demand that fanatics had been resorting to waiting in long lines for hours and even spending frigid nights outdoors just to "maybe" obtain one of these. Tony and I waited in one line the day after Thanksgiving at 7 am in hopes of purchasing the "Wii". I guess we should have brought our sleeping bags and spent the night! With 14 left at Gamestop and holding our place in line at number 16, we were doomed to be disappointed, yet we still waited "just in case". We tried Target, Best Buy, and Wal-Mart. I prayed a silly little prayer, "God, I know this is pretty trivial, but I also know that you care about the little things in our lives. All Nick wants is a Wii. Please help us find one." Sappy, I know. Even a little weird.
But, you are not going to believe what happened. I knew how God was going to answer this. He was going to allow me to be at the right place at the right time. As Christmas drew closer, I began to come up with other alternatives in case we didn't get one of these coveted items. We'll just wrap a picture of a "Wii" in a box, give it to Nick and tell him we'll get one after Christmas. This was plan B. I never had to carry out this plan because of how God orchestrated the next events. A friend of mine was also looking for this game. We had made a pact that if one of us ever came across two Wii's, we buy them both and settle up with each other later. Nope, that is not how we obtained our Wii! Actually, another friend, not even remotely desirous of this grand gift, was standing at the return counter at Target when another woman returned two Wii's. My friend, thinking they were just possibly games, enquired about them. When she discovered that they were in fact the official "Wii's", she asked, "Well, can I buy them?" After the clerk answered affirmatively, she purchased them, quickly toted them to her car and promptly called me, telling me what she had done.
To call me ecstatic would be an understatement. While traveling to Hobby Lobby to exchange money for the "gift", I called my husband, my mom and anyone who cared about this amazing answer to prayer. It certainly was not the way I had planned it to happen, but God always works in mysterious ways and usually not according to how I have it all worked out. God used a friend to answer my prayer.
Before we commenced with opening gifts, we planned to read the Christmas story in Luke 2. Maddie became a little confused as evidenced by the beginning of her version of the story, "It was the night before Christmas and all through the house..."
Nick, playing Santa, passed gifts to each person one by one until Alix took over his job, not satisfied with his organizational skills! There was a lot of oohing and ahhing over the gifts, hugs and kisses and Maddie hovering like a bee with a flower over whomever happened to have a gift she could assist them in opening. Each of us kept shooing the bee away, but it kept returning. The big gifts this year were a karaoke machine for Maddie, a digital camera for Alix and the big tamale Wii for Nick. That Nick had a Wii to open is a miracle story.
The Wii, like its cousins the XBox and Playstation, have been in such great demand that fanatics had been resorting to waiting in long lines for hours and even spending frigid nights outdoors just to "maybe" obtain one of these. Tony and I waited in one line the day after Thanksgiving at 7 am in hopes of purchasing the "Wii". I guess we should have brought our sleeping bags and spent the night! With 14 left at Gamestop and holding our place in line at number 16, we were doomed to be disappointed, yet we still waited "just in case". We tried Target, Best Buy, and Wal-Mart. I prayed a silly little prayer, "God, I know this is pretty trivial, but I also know that you care about the little things in our lives. All Nick wants is a Wii. Please help us find one." Sappy, I know. Even a little weird.
But, you are not going to believe what happened. I knew how God was going to answer this. He was going to allow me to be at the right place at the right time. As Christmas drew closer, I began to come up with other alternatives in case we didn't get one of these coveted items. We'll just wrap a picture of a "Wii" in a box, give it to Nick and tell him we'll get one after Christmas. This was plan B. I never had to carry out this plan because of how God orchestrated the next events. A friend of mine was also looking for this game. We had made a pact that if one of us ever came across two Wii's, we buy them both and settle up with each other later. Nope, that is not how we obtained our Wii! Actually, another friend, not even remotely desirous of this grand gift, was standing at the return counter at Target when another woman returned two Wii's. My friend, thinking they were just possibly games, enquired about them. When she discovered that they were in fact the official "Wii's", she asked, "Well, can I buy them?" After the clerk answered affirmatively, she purchased them, quickly toted them to her car and promptly called me, telling me what she had done.
To call me ecstatic would be an understatement. While traveling to Hobby Lobby to exchange money for the "gift", I called my husband, my mom and anyone who cared about this amazing answer to prayer. It certainly was not the way I had planned it to happen, but God always works in mysterious ways and usually not according to how I have it all worked out. God used a friend to answer my prayer.
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Crybabies are Cool
I am a big crybaby. Always have been. I recall moments watching Little House on the Prairie as a child when tears would begin to well up in my eyes and roll down my cheeks. I could always count on my dad crying with me. It was a big joke in my family. My dad and I were sobbers while the rest of the family remained hardened to whatever trauma was occuring on the television screen. This condition has worsened over the years because I not only have become a sympathy crier, but I now also weep at the silliest things...a school program, a gymnastics meet, even helping in my daughter's class. No trauma or pain has to be remotely involved.
This morning I cried watching my friends' children getting baptized. They were making the most important decision of their lives...meaningful moment. I teared up as the children's musical program began. All of the kids were speeding down the aisles and down the stairs to clamor up the risers as the music played. No one fell down and got hurt. No one was even singing a beautiful song, and I was dabbing at my eyes to keep the tears from seeping. Of course, this was my daughter's first musical as a big kid. And, I watched as she placed herself smack dab in the middle of her best friends. They looked like the 4 musketeers singing and dancing...all in a row...a tearful moment as I could fast forward in my mind already to the time when they'd be 5th graders standing on stage for their very last musical. I can even imagine them fighting for parts!
Watching Maddie belt out the words to the songs while she managed to swirl her hands or sway her little hips to the beat brought more wet spots, more dabbing, more sniffling. Tony kept looking at me like I was nuts. Nick was oblivious. As I actually listened to the words, "God so loved the world, that he gave his only son...that everyone who believes in him would have eternal life...", you can imagine what happened again. More crying. What moment in life could even begin to equate itself with this one? I was watching my tiny 6-year-old sing the most powerful words with absolute belief and passion. These moments are precious. They are but a blink, and they are over. I know because I have watched my two older children pave the way before her. They were the benefit of my first batch of tears.
The worst part about being a sap like me is that I never know when the tears are going to hit. They just suddenly show up. There's no warning like the siren signalling a tornado on its way. I can be at the grocery store, at a sporting event or watching a commercial when my eyes just start to water. It's a little embarrassing to try to explain this to those who see me in a public place in this condition. It's not like my life is falling apart. How do I explain to someone that the reason tears are coursing down my cheeks is because my daughter just did the most amazing vault and stuck it...and then she looked at me to see if I saw what she did? Or, something Beth Moore said in her Bible study resonated with my soul? Or, friends of mine from years ago sent an amazing amount of money to help my son raise his support for Guatemala?
So, I have just resigned myself to becoming more of a crybaby over the years and have decided that the way I'll deal with this phenomenon is to always carry tissues. After all, I must keep my face on through all the tears! If you happen to see my eyes a little wet, don't assume the worst. Why, I might've just consumed the most delicious nonfat decaf Peppermint Mocha I have ever ordered at Starbucks! The possibilities are endless.
This morning I cried watching my friends' children getting baptized. They were making the most important decision of their lives...meaningful moment. I teared up as the children's musical program began. All of the kids were speeding down the aisles and down the stairs to clamor up the risers as the music played. No one fell down and got hurt. No one was even singing a beautiful song, and I was dabbing at my eyes to keep the tears from seeping. Of course, this was my daughter's first musical as a big kid. And, I watched as she placed herself smack dab in the middle of her best friends. They looked like the 4 musketeers singing and dancing...all in a row...a tearful moment as I could fast forward in my mind already to the time when they'd be 5th graders standing on stage for their very last musical. I can even imagine them fighting for parts!
Watching Maddie belt out the words to the songs while she managed to swirl her hands or sway her little hips to the beat brought more wet spots, more dabbing, more sniffling. Tony kept looking at me like I was nuts. Nick was oblivious. As I actually listened to the words, "God so loved the world, that he gave his only son...that everyone who believes in him would have eternal life...", you can imagine what happened again. More crying. What moment in life could even begin to equate itself with this one? I was watching my tiny 6-year-old sing the most powerful words with absolute belief and passion. These moments are precious. They are but a blink, and they are over. I know because I have watched my two older children pave the way before her. They were the benefit of my first batch of tears.
The worst part about being a sap like me is that I never know when the tears are going to hit. They just suddenly show up. There's no warning like the siren signalling a tornado on its way. I can be at the grocery store, at a sporting event or watching a commercial when my eyes just start to water. It's a little embarrassing to try to explain this to those who see me in a public place in this condition. It's not like my life is falling apart. How do I explain to someone that the reason tears are coursing down my cheeks is because my daughter just did the most amazing vault and stuck it...and then she looked at me to see if I saw what she did? Or, something Beth Moore said in her Bible study resonated with my soul? Or, friends of mine from years ago sent an amazing amount of money to help my son raise his support for Guatemala?
So, I have just resigned myself to becoming more of a crybaby over the years and have decided that the way I'll deal with this phenomenon is to always carry tissues. After all, I must keep my face on through all the tears! If you happen to see my eyes a little wet, don't assume the worst. Why, I might've just consumed the most delicious nonfat decaf Peppermint Mocha I have ever ordered at Starbucks! The possibilities are endless.
Friday, December 14, 2007
Nothing to Blab About
Ok, so it took me 10 minutes just to create my creativeless blog title. Why? Because, frankly, I have nothing to blab about. This is why I've given my blog a new makeover. Perhaps, it will fool the numerous people (I think I'm up to 4 now) who visit my blog into thinking that I've actually written something new, amazing, life-changing. One person actually wrote a comment on one of my older blogs that I needed to write something new. Hmmmm.....wish I could think of something to write about.
It's an overwhelmingly busy time for me as well as several hundred million other people during the holiday season, so I've been taking the time to take care of my "to do" list items such as bake cookies, write the traditional Christmas letter that everyone dreads getting from me, Christmas shop and mail all the gifts to family that live far away from me (which is absolutely everyone...that's depressing), attend Christmas concerts, Christmas parties, gymnastics meets and surf the internet looking for a gift for my husband. I've decided that I'm not getting the $960 Colts tickets after all. It's a good thing that blogging is not on my "to do" list these days because I have nothing to say. You've probably figured that out by now.
I'll just provide those who care with an update on our lives in the last month since I've blogged:
Nick has his first girlfriend, Kyla. He's ga-ga over her. (Let me know if you need a definition of "ga-ga". When he mentioned to me about going to the prom with her in the Spring and I sort of replied with something like, "What if you aren't going out with her then? Aren't you a little premature?" He scoffed at me, "It's not like junior high, mom, where people go together for just a couple of weeks." Excuse me! I didn't realize the level of maturity I was dealing with. You'll see what I mean when you read below how junior highers deal with relationships. I'm completely aghast at the immaturity.
Alix "went" with a boy (they don't go anywhere at 13) for 2 weeks (might be the longest time yet), broke up with him and promptly "went" with another boy for a week. She broke up with him because she didn't like him anymore. Her likes don't last long. I suggested she just "be friends" with boys for awhile. When Alix was in 7th grade, I chronicled her first boyfriend. I stopped doing this after the 3rd one in 3 weeks. She's in and out of love faster than I can write.
Maddie was "Blue Ribbon Student of the Week" this week because she's been doing so well in getting her work done. During the week, she didn't get her morning work done twice and brought it home for homework and lost her homework on the bus and had to re-do it. She's only in 1st grade. We have a long road ahead of us, and I'm definitely going to be too old to deal with all this. After discussing with her the importance of setting an example since she's the Blue Ribbon Student, she prayed, "God, thank you that I am the Blue Ribbon Student. Help me to "be" it." So precious and sincere.
Tony and I were sitting at a gymnastics meet last weekend which happens to be the kind of sport in which we sit for 4 hours in order to watch our daughters compete for 1 minute each on 4 different events. Tony commented on how "sedementary" this sport is. "You mean "sedentary", right? Because, this sport isn't at all dirty." Guess we know where Maddie gets her little mix-up on words, don't we?!
And, me? Well, I have nothing to blab about.
It's an overwhelmingly busy time for me as well as several hundred million other people during the holiday season, so I've been taking the time to take care of my "to do" list items such as bake cookies, write the traditional Christmas letter that everyone dreads getting from me, Christmas shop and mail all the gifts to family that live far away from me (which is absolutely everyone...that's depressing), attend Christmas concerts, Christmas parties, gymnastics meets and surf the internet looking for a gift for my husband. I've decided that I'm not getting the $960 Colts tickets after all. It's a good thing that blogging is not on my "to do" list these days because I have nothing to say. You've probably figured that out by now.
I'll just provide those who care with an update on our lives in the last month since I've blogged:
Nick has his first girlfriend, Kyla. He's ga-ga over her. (Let me know if you need a definition of "ga-ga". When he mentioned to me about going to the prom with her in the Spring and I sort of replied with something like, "What if you aren't going out with her then? Aren't you a little premature?" He scoffed at me, "It's not like junior high, mom, where people go together for just a couple of weeks." Excuse me! I didn't realize the level of maturity I was dealing with. You'll see what I mean when you read below how junior highers deal with relationships. I'm completely aghast at the immaturity.
Alix "went" with a boy (they don't go anywhere at 13) for 2 weeks (might be the longest time yet), broke up with him and promptly "went" with another boy for a week. She broke up with him because she didn't like him anymore. Her likes don't last long. I suggested she just "be friends" with boys for awhile. When Alix was in 7th grade, I chronicled her first boyfriend. I stopped doing this after the 3rd one in 3 weeks. She's in and out of love faster than I can write.
Maddie was "Blue Ribbon Student of the Week" this week because she's been doing so well in getting her work done. During the week, she didn't get her morning work done twice and brought it home for homework and lost her homework on the bus and had to re-do it. She's only in 1st grade. We have a long road ahead of us, and I'm definitely going to be too old to deal with all this. After discussing with her the importance of setting an example since she's the Blue Ribbon Student, she prayed, "God, thank you that I am the Blue Ribbon Student. Help me to "be" it." So precious and sincere.
Tony and I were sitting at a gymnastics meet last weekend which happens to be the kind of sport in which we sit for 4 hours in order to watch our daughters compete for 1 minute each on 4 different events. Tony commented on how "sedementary" this sport is. "You mean "sedentary", right? Because, this sport isn't at all dirty." Guess we know where Maddie gets her little mix-up on words, don't we?!
And, me? Well, I have nothing to blab about.
Saturday, December 8, 2007
Guilty of the Gimmies
This is an article I recently wrote for our women's newsletter, Divine Lines. You can check out the entire newsletter at SOCC.org.
It was a huge mistake to venture into the brand new Build-A-Bear store with my daughter Maddie present. “Oh mommy, can I have this bear? No, I want the pink puppy dog. I want the bunny, too. Mommy, look at this cheerleading outfit! I want that. Oh, and I want that little bed for my new dog. Can I get those pajamas for my bunny?” The whining and wanting droned on and on as we viewed the other displays of outfits and accessories for cute little stuffed animals. The “gimmie” disease has latched onto my child and taken over her entire attitude. Even while browsing through the Samaritan’s Purse catalog to choose an item to donate, Maddie thought it was all about her. “Oooo, I want that little lamb and that blanket.” Ugh!
After experiencing a glorious Thanksgiving full of gratitude toward a Savior who loves us and has redeemed us, we turn the page on the calendar and very oftentimes, instead of focusing on the baby who took on human skin for us, we are bombarded with and distracted by a very different message. Children aren’t the only ones who catch the “gimmie” disease. I caught it just last week as I was browsing through stores in Nashville. Beautiful Christmas décor displayed in windows called to me to enter through the doors enticing me to purchase items I fancied adorning my home. I have to admit that I was reeled in like a fish on a line.
And what do we as parents communicate to our children during the Christmas season
? Make a list, so we know what you want. We actually give our children permission to get the gimmies. The rest of the year I chant this mantra whenever I enter a store with my 6-year-old. “You are not getting anything from this store. Please do not ask.” Now I am asking, begging, pleading with my three children to tell me what they want because I am marching to the store to buy what their hearts’ desire. In case you think that I am a bit “scroogish” (if that’s a word), I certainly am not. I love to buy my children things. I delight in seeing their faces light up when they open a present that they asked for. I am simply pointing out that at Christmas it seems as if I am actually promoting selfishness, wanting and gimmie-itus by encouraging them to compile long lists of gift ideas.
How do we stop this madness? How do we promote giving instead of getting? Luke instructs us in Acts to remember that Jesus said that it is better to give than to receive. Most of us do not prefer that our children become selfish little imps at Christmas; rather, our greatest desire would be that they focus on the birthday of Jesus, the baby who changed the world by giving up heaven and putting on human skin. I want my children to really experience the joy of Christmas…giving not getting. A few ideas listed below may help our families concentrate more on giving than receiving this Christmas:
1. Adopt a family in need this year. Let your children help you shop for gifts.
2. Put together shoeboxes for Operation Christmas Child. Even though it’s too late for this year, plan to participate next Christmas.
3. Help your children “shop” in the Samaritan’s Purse or another organization’s catalog. You can choose an item to give such as a cow, a meal or a blanket for a needy child or family.
4. Every time you pass a Salvation Army bell ringer, give your child some money to drop in the bucket.
5. Participate as a family in any service opportunities Sherwood Oaks or another organization provides at Christmas.
While this is not an exhaustive list, it’s a start on our journey to help our children find the joy in giving, not receiving. My Savior gave up his home in heaven to take on human flesh so that I might receive the ultimate gift, salvation. This Christmas, may we as followers of Christ, demonstrate the attitude of giving so that those we cross paths with, whether at work, the mall or at home, catch “giving-itus”. Let’s get rid of those “gimmies”!
It was a huge mistake to venture into the brand new Build-A-Bear store with my daughter Maddie present. “Oh mommy, can I have this bear? No, I want the pink puppy dog. I want the bunny, too. Mommy, look at this cheerleading outfit! I want that. Oh, and I want that little bed for my new dog. Can I get those pajamas for my bunny?” The whining and wanting droned on and on as we viewed the other displays of outfits and accessories for cute little stuffed animals. The “gimmie” disease has latched onto my child and taken over her entire attitude. Even while browsing through the Samaritan’s Purse catalog to choose an item to donate, Maddie thought it was all about her. “Oooo, I want that little lamb and that blanket.” Ugh!
After experiencing a glorious Thanksgiving full of gratitude toward a Savior who loves us and has redeemed us, we turn the page on the calendar and very oftentimes, instead of focusing on the baby who took on human skin for us, we are bombarded with and distracted by a very different message. Children aren’t the only ones who catch the “gimmie” disease. I caught it just last week as I was browsing through stores in Nashville. Beautiful Christmas décor displayed in windows called to me to enter through the doors enticing me to purchase items I fancied adorning my home. I have to admit that I was reeled in like a fish on a line.
And what do we as parents communicate to our children during the Christmas season
? Make a list, so we know what you want. We actually give our children permission to get the gimmies. The rest of the year I chant this mantra whenever I enter a store with my 6-year-old. “You are not getting anything from this store. Please do not ask.” Now I am asking, begging, pleading with my three children to tell me what they want because I am marching to the store to buy what their hearts’ desire. In case you think that I am a bit “scroogish” (if that’s a word), I certainly am not. I love to buy my children things. I delight in seeing their faces light up when they open a present that they asked for. I am simply pointing out that at Christmas it seems as if I am actually promoting selfishness, wanting and gimmie-itus by encouraging them to compile long lists of gift ideas.How do we stop this madness? How do we promote giving instead of getting? Luke instructs us in Acts to remember that Jesus said that it is better to give than to receive. Most of us do not prefer that our children become selfish little imps at Christmas; rather, our greatest desire would be that they focus on the birthday of Jesus, the baby who changed the world by giving up heaven and putting on human skin. I want my children to really experience the joy of Christmas…giving not getting. A few ideas listed below may help our families concentrate more on giving than receiving this Christmas:
1. Adopt a family in need this year. Let your children help you shop for gifts.
2. Put together shoeboxes for Operation Christmas Child. Even though it’s too late for this year, plan to participate next Christmas.
3. Help your children “shop” in the Samaritan’s Purse or another organization’s catalog. You can choose an item to give such as a cow, a meal or a blanket for a needy child or family.
4. Every time you pass a Salvation Army bell ringer, give your child some money to drop in the bucket.
5. Participate as a family in any service opportunities Sherwood Oaks or another organization provides at Christmas.
While this is not an exhaustive list, it’s a start on our journey to help our children find the joy in giving, not receiving. My Savior gave up his home in heaven to take on human flesh so that I might receive the ultimate gift, salvation. This Christmas, may we as followers of Christ, demonstrate the attitude of giving so that those we cross paths with, whether at work, the mall or at home, catch “giving-itus”. Let’s get rid of those “gimmies”!
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Interesting Conversations
Don't you love Thanksgiving? It is the only holiday in which presents are not a concern, although Maddie did ask last night when we were going to open presents. She expressed huge disappointment that we do not actually open presents on Thanksgiving. Actually, the reverse is true. We give gifts of gratitude to our Savior instead!
Anyway, earlier this week I had an illuminating dialogue with Tony regarding "shopping". After all, we all know that the day after Thanksgiving is an extremely important day for people like me who are freakish enough to venture out into the maddening craziness and overwhelming lines of other freaks waiting to buy stuff our kids don't need for Christmas all in the name of saving money. I happen to enjoy doing this. As we were conversing, I explained the schedule for the day. After perusing the sales ads on Thanksgiving and determining which deals were worth awaking at 4 am, driving half asleep to the store and fighting other crazies over, we would then perhaps make our way to better shopping in Indianapolis if necessary. We would be gone until late. The kids would be cranky and dragging by the end of the day, but who cares. After all, we are saving money by doing this. I further declared that Saturday would be the official "Decorate the Tree and House" day.
Imagine my shock when my husband responds, "Why don't we put the tree up Friday when we get home?"
Me: "No, that won't work because we won't be home until late. We'll be too tired."
Tony: "Well, what you're talking about doing is only going to take a matter of a couple of hours."
Me: "What, are you kidding? No way. Shopping is more than looking in stores. It's an entire experience. You shop, you take a break for coffee, you shop, you have a snack, you shop, you eat lunch, etc. This is going to take all day. We're putting the tree up Saturday."
End of discussion. Bottom line: he may stay home. I warned him that I wasn't putting up with any cranky attitudes.
Fast forward two days to the next conversation...Maddie is discussing the trials she is having with another little girl in her classroom over a boy named Seth. They both like him, and she is troubled by this. "Mom, we both want him." Want? Want him for what? I'm a little concerned about this girl.
5 minutes later...Maddie is supposed to be brushing her teeth in the bathroom but comes back to me in the kitchen to relay an important revelation.
Maddie: "Mom, I don't like "saxy" (translation: sexy). " I tell you, we've got problems here.
Me: "Do you mean "sexy"? Do know what that means?"
Maddie: "You know, when girls try to be "saxy" (she's still saying it like this) and wear "saxy" clothes." She then goes through the charade of showing me she's talking about short sleeve shirts and even shirts that come off the shoulders.
Me: "Boys like girls who are pretty inside...like kind and loving."
Maddie: "Yes, I know mom. That's why I said in the bathroom that I don't want to be "saxy"."
I hope she's still saying that when she's 16. Somehow, I doubt it. I think we'll be locking her up.
Anyway, earlier this week I had an illuminating dialogue with Tony regarding "shopping". After all, we all know that the day after Thanksgiving is an extremely important day for people like me who are freakish enough to venture out into the maddening craziness and overwhelming lines of other freaks waiting to buy stuff our kids don't need for Christmas all in the name of saving money. I happen to enjoy doing this. As we were conversing, I explained the schedule for the day. After perusing the sales ads on Thanksgiving and determining which deals were worth awaking at 4 am, driving half asleep to the store and fighting other crazies over, we would then perhaps make our way to better shopping in Indianapolis if necessary. We would be gone until late. The kids would be cranky and dragging by the end of the day, but who cares. After all, we are saving money by doing this. I further declared that Saturday would be the official "Decorate the Tree and House" day.
Imagine my shock when my husband responds, "Why don't we put the tree up Friday when we get home?"
Me: "No, that won't work because we won't be home until late. We'll be too tired."
Tony: "Well, what you're talking about doing is only going to take a matter of a couple of hours."
Me: "What, are you kidding? No way. Shopping is more than looking in stores. It's an entire experience. You shop, you take a break for coffee, you shop, you have a snack, you shop, you eat lunch, etc. This is going to take all day. We're putting the tree up Saturday."
End of discussion. Bottom line: he may stay home. I warned him that I wasn't putting up with any cranky attitudes.
Fast forward two days to the next conversation...Maddie is discussing the trials she is having with another little girl in her classroom over a boy named Seth. They both like him, and she is troubled by this. "Mom, we both want him." Want? Want him for what? I'm a little concerned about this girl.
5 minutes later...Maddie is supposed to be brushing her teeth in the bathroom but comes back to me in the kitchen to relay an important revelation.
Maddie: "Mom, I don't like "saxy" (translation: sexy). " I tell you, we've got problems here.
Me: "Do you mean "sexy"? Do know what that means?"
Maddie: "You know, when girls try to be "saxy" (she's still saying it like this) and wear "saxy" clothes." She then goes through the charade of showing me she's talking about short sleeve shirts and even shirts that come off the shoulders.
Me: "Boys like girls who are pretty inside...like kind and loving."
Maddie: "Yes, I know mom. That's why I said in the bathroom that I don't want to be "saxy"."
I hope she's still saying that when she's 16. Somehow, I doubt it. I think we'll be locking her up.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Missing in Action
It's Fall craziness at our home which is the reason that my blog has been inactive the past several weeks. For some reason, our three young'uns have chosen to participate in activities that occupy our time and energy from September until early Spring. Perhaps this is their way to ensure that we enter that mental institution to recover from the insanity this causes. Or, maybe they simply desire to experience freedom in the Spring to enjoy the sun and warmth that once again bestows its pleasure on us poor folk doomed to frigid temperatures in the midwest. The most obvious reason, however, is that tennis, gymnastics, cheerleading and performing in a musical seem to be Fall and Winter activities. Bummer! Still, what else would I be doing during this time of year if I weren't coordinating pick ups and drop offs and organizing how three children are going to get to their various activities that occur within minutes of each other? You wouldn't find me sunbathing at the pool in 50 degree weather, yet most assuredly you'll find me dreaming about a beach somewhere in the tropics. So, I suppose I am thankful that my first, middle and youngest whippersnappers haven't chosen the Spring to cause my insanity; otherwise, they might be taking a cab to their events!
For all my complaining (and yes, I know that Paul in Philippians says to do everything without complaining and arguing...and I suppose my star isn't shining quite so brightly at this particular moment), I really do treasure these moments of seeing my kids shine. As I watched Nick perform in the chorus of "Hello Dolly" and actually polka dance, I beamed with delight. During the waiter scene, I was amazed at his agility as he weaved in perfect synchronization between other waiters hoisting platters above their heads. Could this actually be my Nick parading around this stage or merely a stunt double? My Nick has never danced. Yet, he made it look quite simple, like he'd been performing the polka for years. Tears invaded my eyes as I viewed his performance. Peacocks could not be prouder of their fanned feathers as I was that glorious night.
Not to be outdone by her brother, Alix competed in her first level 8 gymnastics meet with passion and excitement. I never get tired of watching this amazing girl do her stuff on the beam, bars, floor and vault. I suppose I'm in awe at her powerful tumbling passes on the floor, her ability to throw a back handspring on a 4 inch beam, the giants she completes on the bars and the unbelievable pike sukes with a double back she performs on the vault. Even though these meets are four hours long with the Alix' actual routines only about 1 minute maximum in length, I delight in watching her reach for her potential. Tony has offered to go in my place, so I don't have to travel the distances we drive to compete, but I can't not go! A point will come when watching these babies of mine show their stuff will be a thing of the past. Until that time, I plan to take advantage of every moment to be there.
Then we have Maddie, the baby, competing in her first level 4 meet as a novice gymnast. What fun it is to watch her as she attempts to simply remember her routines. You can practically see the wheels turning inside that brain of hers, "What do I do next?" I've never seen such tight legs and pointed toes. It seems so automatic with her. Still, she's a speed racer in ALL of her routines. Her goal? To get them over with as quickly as possible. Then, to watch both of my gymnasts receive medals as they stand on the podium during the awards ceremony is another proud moment for me. They beam at me as if to say, "See, look what we did?"
These are moments of joy for me as a mom to see my children reach goals they've worked hard for through months of practice. Of course, they could simply be, and I'd be incredibly proud of them. Isn't that how our heavenly Father sees us? We are his children, and he loves us whether we do fabulous things or not. In fact, I believe that he is more concerned with our "being" than our "doing". My greatest desire is that my children become more like Jesus than that they accomplish great things by the world's standards. Still, there's nothing quite like beholding a 16 year old dance across the stage or two beautiful girls flip across the floor ending with a gymnast salute!
For all my complaining (and yes, I know that Paul in Philippians says to do everything without complaining and arguing...and I suppose my star isn't shining quite so brightly at this particular moment), I really do treasure these moments of seeing my kids shine. As I watched Nick perform in the chorus of "Hello Dolly" and actually polka dance, I beamed with delight. During the waiter scene, I was amazed at his agility as he weaved in perfect synchronization between other waiters hoisting platters above their heads. Could this actually be my Nick parading around this stage or merely a stunt double? My Nick has never danced. Yet, he made it look quite simple, like he'd been performing the polka for years. Tears invaded my eyes as I viewed his performance. Peacocks could not be prouder of their fanned feathers as I was that glorious night.
Not to be outdone by her brother, Alix competed in her first level 8 gymnastics meet with passion and excitement. I never get tired of watching this amazing girl do her stuff on the beam, bars, floor and vault. I suppose I'm in awe at her powerful tumbling passes on the floor, her ability to throw a back handspring on a 4 inch beam, the giants she completes on the bars and the unbelievable pike sukes with a double back she performs on the vault. Even though these meets are four hours long with the Alix' actual routines only about 1 minute maximum in length, I delight in watching her reach for her potential. Tony has offered to go in my place, so I don't have to travel the distances we drive to compete, but I can't not go! A point will come when watching these babies of mine show their stuff will be a thing of the past. Until that time, I plan to take advantage of every moment to be there.
Then we have Maddie, the baby, competing in her first level 4 meet as a novice gymnast. What fun it is to watch her as she attempts to simply remember her routines. You can practically see the wheels turning inside that brain of hers, "What do I do next?" I've never seen such tight legs and pointed toes. It seems so automatic with her. Still, she's a speed racer in ALL of her routines. Her goal? To get them over with as quickly as possible. Then, to watch both of my gymnasts receive medals as they stand on the podium during the awards ceremony is another proud moment for me. They beam at me as if to say, "See, look what we did?"
These are moments of joy for me as a mom to see my children reach goals they've worked hard for through months of practice. Of course, they could simply be, and I'd be incredibly proud of them. Isn't that how our heavenly Father sees us? We are his children, and he loves us whether we do fabulous things or not. In fact, I believe that he is more concerned with our "being" than our "doing". My greatest desire is that my children become more like Jesus than that they accomplish great things by the world's standards. Still, there's nothing quite like beholding a 16 year old dance across the stage or two beautiful girls flip across the floor ending with a gymnast salute!
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Miss the Bus Day
Yesterday was "miss the bus" day at our house. Of my three children, two managed to throw my day off kilter by daring to do this BIG "no-no". Fortunately, this doesn't occur very often, but when it does, momma ain't happy.
Nick managed to fall back to sleep after I had sweetly awakened him. Alix noticed that he was still snoozing at 7 am and kindly told him to get up or he was sure to miss the bus arriving at 7:20. As I was taking my own shower because of course, I HAD to be somewhere too, I heard the bus arrive, leave and Nick yelling through the door that he was not on the bus. GREAT! My whole schedule was going to hades in a handbasket. I prayed without ceasing that I would not lose my salvation when I conversed with Nick about his apparent problems with making his bus appointment, so that my life would not have to be rearranged and inconvenienced. Well of course Nick blamed his inability to get to the bus on that darn shower. The water stopped flowing in the middle of his shower about five times. Of all days for that to happen. The other part of his problem was staying up to watch the Colts beat the Jaguars which caused a few problems prying open his eyes that morning. At our house, it's always someone else's fault!
Very calmly, and nicely, I might add, I explained to Nick that he needed to get Maddie up and get her ready, so that I could apply my make-up before we left. Priorities are priorities, so I delegated Maddie detail to Nick, so I could concentrate on my face. After all, I couldn't drive to the high school and back with the "natural" look. That would be horrifying and might cause some accidents on the road. He graciously gave Maddie her pop tart, the breakfast of champions, while I laid out her clothes and finished in the bathroom. Ever have a 16 year old watching you get ready and urging you to hurry up? I was definitely not in the mood for that, figuring that it was his own fault for waking up late and well, maybe I just needed to put on an extra bit of mascara and blush this particular day. You know what I mean?
He made it on time to school and even wisely thanked me for driving him. After tossing out the morning mantra, "have a good day at school", he skipped into school joyfully to attend his first class (you betcha), while I raced home to madly dry my still wet hair and get another child on the bus to 1st grade. By this time it's 8:10, and Maddie's bus appointment is in 10 short minutes. I thought I could make it. The sinking feeling came when I was still putting the finishing touches on my hair, and I heard Maddie's bus go by. Big bummer! Now I had to drive another child to school in the opposite direction of where I needed to be at 9 am. This day had just begin, and it was already going downhill.
I expressed a sigh of relief after I dropped off this last child at school and headed toward the church for my Bible study. I knew I was going to be late, but I didn't care, because my day was going to start looking up. It just didn't matter that when I began walking in the downpour with my umbrella into the church building, it flipped inside out with the heavy winds and I could barely hang onto it. After an hour with Beth Moore and some friends, I knew I'd be feeling much better.
Nick managed to fall back to sleep after I had sweetly awakened him. Alix noticed that he was still snoozing at 7 am and kindly told him to get up or he was sure to miss the bus arriving at 7:20. As I was taking my own shower because of course, I HAD to be somewhere too, I heard the bus arrive, leave and Nick yelling through the door that he was not on the bus. GREAT! My whole schedule was going to hades in a handbasket. I prayed without ceasing that I would not lose my salvation when I conversed with Nick about his apparent problems with making his bus appointment, so that my life would not have to be rearranged and inconvenienced. Well of course Nick blamed his inability to get to the bus on that darn shower. The water stopped flowing in the middle of his shower about five times. Of all days for that to happen. The other part of his problem was staying up to watch the Colts beat the Jaguars which caused a few problems prying open his eyes that morning. At our house, it's always someone else's fault!
Very calmly, and nicely, I might add, I explained to Nick that he needed to get Maddie up and get her ready, so that I could apply my make-up before we left. Priorities are priorities, so I delegated Maddie detail to Nick, so I could concentrate on my face. After all, I couldn't drive to the high school and back with the "natural" look. That would be horrifying and might cause some accidents on the road. He graciously gave Maddie her pop tart, the breakfast of champions, while I laid out her clothes and finished in the bathroom. Ever have a 16 year old watching you get ready and urging you to hurry up? I was definitely not in the mood for that, figuring that it was his own fault for waking up late and well, maybe I just needed to put on an extra bit of mascara and blush this particular day. You know what I mean?
He made it on time to school and even wisely thanked me for driving him. After tossing out the morning mantra, "have a good day at school", he skipped into school joyfully to attend his first class (you betcha), while I raced home to madly dry my still wet hair and get another child on the bus to 1st grade. By this time it's 8:10, and Maddie's bus appointment is in 10 short minutes. I thought I could make it. The sinking feeling came when I was still putting the finishing touches on my hair, and I heard Maddie's bus go by. Big bummer! Now I had to drive another child to school in the opposite direction of where I needed to be at 9 am. This day had just begin, and it was already going downhill.
I expressed a sigh of relief after I dropped off this last child at school and headed toward the church for my Bible study. I knew I was going to be late, but I didn't care, because my day was going to start looking up. It just didn't matter that when I began walking in the downpour with my umbrella into the church building, it flipped inside out with the heavy winds and I could barely hang onto it. After an hour with Beth Moore and some friends, I knew I'd be feeling much better.
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Guilty or Innocent?
Last night at our high school football game, free-spirited Maddie found her friend Daxton to play with. While Tony and I sit up in the stands, Maddie and Daxton love to run down the stairs and play, sometimes venturing under the bleachers, literally hanging around on the poles underneath. During one of the times Maddie and Daxton bounded up the stairs to check on us parents, I asked her what they were doing. "We're just playing halfway under the bleachers."
"No, I mean what are you doing under there?"
"Well," she says, "we're not playing boyfriend and girlfriend."
Hmmmmm. I think we've got trouble. She better not be "playing" boyfriend and girlfriend under the bleachers when she's 16. Guilty or innocent? I say she's guilty by reason of her admission of what they were definitely not doing!
"No, I mean what are you doing under there?"
"Well," she says, "we're not playing boyfriend and girlfriend."
Hmmmmm. I think we've got trouble. She better not be "playing" boyfriend and girlfriend under the bleachers when she's 16. Guilty or innocent? I say she's guilty by reason of her admission of what they were definitely not doing!
Saturday, October 6, 2007
The Two Shall Become One!
Tony and I fulfilled scripture in a very different sense this week...in a shopping trip. No, my husband is NOT a shopper, unfortunately. And, actually, I'd much prefer him not to accompany me on my shopping trips because...frankly, he makes me nervous. I feel the need to entertain him, make sure he's having fun, not bored, etc. Girlfriends are the best shopping companions aside from my brother-in-law, Steve, who is the only man I've met who enjoys browsing and buying!
Earlier this week Tony mentioned that he needed new dress shirts. Apparently, they have been shrinking in the neck to the point of almost choking him. Either that or his neck has grown a half inch. Not wanting my poor husband to suffer unduly, I made a trip to TJ Maxx to purchase some new shirts. As I was walking out with 5 assorted dress shirts in a bag, my cell phone rang. Guess who? Yep, it was Tony asking me what I was doing. "Shoot, caught shopping again," I thought. Only this time it's for a good cause. Save my poor, sweet baby from dying while in the middle of a presentation to a client. "So, what are you doing?" he asks.
"Well, I'm just walking out of TJ Maxx."
"Oh," he says. "I was just there earlier today."
Completely aghast and peeved, I spout, "You didn't buy any shirts, did you?"
"Why yes I did."
"Well, I just now bought you some shirts, too. I guess we'll just have to compare and see what we both came up with. This will be interesting to see."
Later that evening in our house, one might have received the impression that it was Christmas. I excitedly held my treasured purchase of shirts tightly concealed in the bag waiting to see how we matched up in our separate buying sprees. Would our two bags demonstrate unity in mind even in shopping, or would we remain separate entities, doomed to give each other gift cards for the rest of our days? We sprung the bags open to reveal the contents. The results were astounding. Two white shirts versus two white shirts; one blue shirt versus one blue shirt; one tan shirt versus one tan shirt! The only leftover was the extra maroon shirt in my bag. It was a joyous occasion in our household that night. We experienced a new dimension in our marriage relationship as we realized that we can shop for one another with an assurance that we have similar tastes. This, coupled with the excitement over returning all the extra, unnecessary dress shirts purchased, thus saving money, was cause for great celebration. And, you know my husband, he loves it when I save him moolah when I shop!
Earlier this week Tony mentioned that he needed new dress shirts. Apparently, they have been shrinking in the neck to the point of almost choking him. Either that or his neck has grown a half inch. Not wanting my poor husband to suffer unduly, I made a trip to TJ Maxx to purchase some new shirts. As I was walking out with 5 assorted dress shirts in a bag, my cell phone rang. Guess who? Yep, it was Tony asking me what I was doing. "Shoot, caught shopping again," I thought. Only this time it's for a good cause. Save my poor, sweet baby from dying while in the middle of a presentation to a client. "So, what are you doing?" he asks.
"Well, I'm just walking out of TJ Maxx."
"Oh," he says. "I was just there earlier today."
Completely aghast and peeved, I spout, "You didn't buy any shirts, did you?"
"Why yes I did."
"Well, I just now bought you some shirts, too. I guess we'll just have to compare and see what we both came up with. This will be interesting to see."
Later that evening in our house, one might have received the impression that it was Christmas. I excitedly held my treasured purchase of shirts tightly concealed in the bag waiting to see how we matched up in our separate buying sprees. Would our two bags demonstrate unity in mind even in shopping, or would we remain separate entities, doomed to give each other gift cards for the rest of our days? We sprung the bags open to reveal the contents. The results were astounding. Two white shirts versus two white shirts; one blue shirt versus one blue shirt; one tan shirt versus one tan shirt! The only leftover was the extra maroon shirt in my bag. It was a joyous occasion in our household that night. We experienced a new dimension in our marriage relationship as we realized that we can shop for one another with an assurance that we have similar tastes. This, coupled with the excitement over returning all the extra, unnecessary dress shirts purchased, thus saving money, was cause for great celebration. And, you know my husband, he loves it when I save him moolah when I shop!
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Don't Get Caught Sleeping!
Last night, Maddie enjoyed some daddy and me time while the rest of the family was at various activities. They watched the thunderstorm on the deck while Maddie danced around in her bathing suit. They ate dinner together and read Bible stories. T-h-e-n, they played Yahtzee, Maddie's new favorite fun game. A curious phenomenon happened...Daddy fell asleep in the middle of playing the game. I'm told this occurred while Maddie was attempting to add her score on the dice. I asked Tony, "How can you fall asleep playing a game?" While Maddie is prodding her dad to "wake up", he responds by telling her that he's going to need a catnap after Yahtzee is over. Yeah, like he didn't just get one.
My husband has some serious sleep issues. This is a guy who awakens at 4 am and can't beg, borrow or steal sleep, which contributes to his catnapping throughout the day. Thus, he's been caught with his eyes shut in the middle of reading to his daughter, occasionally at work and while I am conversing with him (actually it's more of a one-way conversation). I have taken offense to this numerous times although Tony assures me that my voice is just so soothing that his eyes close. Yeah, right! That's just his nice way of saying that I'm boring! Ok, so perhaps I can believe that I might occasionally 'cause a person's eyes to glaze over, but at least I haven't caused the death of someone by my talking on and on as Paul did when Eutychus snoozed during Paul's sermon and fell out a 3rd story window.
Anyhoo, I'm still quite amazed at this Yahtzee sleep tale. Picture with me: Maddie shaking her dice in the red cup, quite loudly, spilling it out onto the table, quite loudly, and Tony sawing logs in the chair beside her. Picture again: Silence, absolute quiet, no disturbances and insomnia at 4 am. Absolute conundrum.
My husband has some serious sleep issues. This is a guy who awakens at 4 am and can't beg, borrow or steal sleep, which contributes to his catnapping throughout the day. Thus, he's been caught with his eyes shut in the middle of reading to his daughter, occasionally at work and while I am conversing with him (actually it's more of a one-way conversation). I have taken offense to this numerous times although Tony assures me that my voice is just so soothing that his eyes close. Yeah, right! That's just his nice way of saying that I'm boring! Ok, so perhaps I can believe that I might occasionally 'cause a person's eyes to glaze over, but at least I haven't caused the death of someone by my talking on and on as Paul did when Eutychus snoozed during Paul's sermon and fell out a 3rd story window.
Anyhoo, I'm still quite amazed at this Yahtzee sleep tale. Picture with me: Maddie shaking her dice in the red cup, quite loudly, spilling it out onto the table, quite loudly, and Tony sawing logs in the chair beside her. Picture again: Silence, absolute quiet, no disturbances and insomnia at 4 am. Absolute conundrum.
Calendar Quotes
"If it weren't for the last minute, nothing would get done." Many times, this is how my house gets clean...at the last minute.
"God put me on earth to accomplish a certain number of things. Right now I am so far behind, I will never die." I'm thinking I'd rather be raptured in the middle of doing some of this stuff!
"God put me on earth to accomplish a certain number of things. Right now I am so far behind, I will never die." I'm thinking I'd rather be raptured in the middle of doing some of this stuff!
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
When Life is Faster Than a Speeding Bullet
"Busy, Busy dreadfully busy
You've no idea what I have to do
Busy, busy, shockingly busy
Much, much too busy for you" (Veggie Tales song)
This has been my mantra for the last week; hence, no time to even write a blog entry! With 3
tennis matches, 2 football "cheer" games, kids' choir and 4 gymnastic practices, I had to remind
myself to breathe. I'm pooped, and I didn't even ace a serve, perform a stunt, sing a note or soar
over the vault table. I'm serious, this taxi-driving takes its toll on a person's body not to mention
your mind. There's some complicated pondering before driving that takes place.
For example, one must determine the best order in which to drop off and pick up children and how at times to be in two places at once. I can't even begin to tell how many times one child calls to say they are ready to be picked up from a practice, and I have to tell them to wait 30 minutes. I can hear the frustration on the other end of the line. My response, "I'm sorry, there is only one of me driving here, so if you can get a ride home, that'd be great!"
I think I'm beginning to understand why I took all that complicated math in high school...so I had the ability to calculate the fastest routes through the city. I know all the shortcuts from the gymnastics club to South, Jackson Creek and Kroger. I can maneuver the back routes to Wal-Mart for a quick shopping trip if need be. (Aside: as a rule of thumb, I really try to avoid Wal-Mart at all costs.) I apologize to all of you Wal-Marters...I happen to prefer Target. It's a much happier place.
Needless to say, I believe I'm in a hurry much of my day. A friend of mine would diagnose my condition as "hurry sickness". Well, at this particular time in my life, she is absolutely correct. With 3 active children, only allowed in one sport each, but with a myriad of school and church activities, how can I not be driving myself crazy? I have to force myself to s...l...o...w d...o...w...n. I need to take time to bask in God's presence and be refreshed by His Word. Otherwise, I begin to go into "survival" mode and feel this ominous sense that this hurry-crazed life is going to overwhelm me and bury me.
When I inhale His words of life to me and ask for His Holy Spirit to fill me to the brim, I am renewed. I can actually prioritize my day better and ask Him to order my steps. Sure, I stillhave to tote those kids everywhere, but my perspective is much better. I look at my "to do" list and realize that the items not crossed off can wait. I'd rather be watching Nick play tennis, Alix throw her back tuck during cheer and Maddie do her back handspring on the floor. I'd rather spend time at an IU Football game with my husband even if they are trampled by the opposing team. I'd rather actually sit down and view the Colts game with my family instead of looking at snippets as I work in the kitchen. So, these are the activities I enjoyed in this crazy, whirlwind of a week.
In the middle of some wild, behind the wheel maneuvering to get across town (sorry if I cut you off), there was rest and delight as I had the great privilege of beholding the greatest treasures God has ever given me using the gifts that God has given them. What joy fills my soul.
Monday, September 17, 2007
Warning: Kindergarten Leads to Graduation
A few days ago I was setting up some new files for my kids' school papers...you know the papers that are so special that you need to keep them forever? As I was writing one particular file label, "Nick-11th grade", my mind flashbacked to a time about 11 years ago to my house in Washington where I began this paper-collecting. I had begun at that time to save EVERY paper my children brought home from school. By the time Nick was in 1st grade, three large cardboard boxes were stacked in my laundry room on top of the extra refrigerator. As I calculated the math, I realized that by the time Nick was out of high school, I would have more than 12 boxes of a menagerie of art work, math and language papers as well as other assortments of intelligent school work he had completed. Let's see...12 boxes times 3 children equals...36 boxes of very important yet space consuming objects. I would have to eventually sell furniture and use the boxes to sit on. Realizing that this was totally impractical, I decided that perhaps it would be just as meaningful to save a few papers throughout the year, deposit them in a file and then load all those files (36 or more) into one box. Much better idea!
That being said, I was dumbfounded as I wrote those words, "Nick-11th grade" across the top. How could that possibly be? He was just in Kindergarten yesterday, wasn't he? Only two more short years and no more file labels for Nick. I seriously doubt he'll donate his college papers for his sappy mother's files. Tears threatened to break open down my face as I realized that I am nearing the end of a season of life with one of my children.
How I long to slow down these days that seem to rush headlong into a week and then a month before I can blink. I want to savor the moments I have with Nick, like the lunch we had together, just he and I, after a doctor's appointment yesterday. These duet moments happen so infrequently now, but when they are available, I desire to snatch them up greedily as if I were hoarding the last piece of dark chocolate! My attention is fixed solely on him when no one else is clamoring for a piece of me. Nick feels less inhibited to share when his other siblings aren't present to listen to the conversation. Oh, if only life would run in slow motion these next two years; however, I have this sneaking suspicion it'll feel more like a thundering locomotive intent on reaching it's destination.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Choosing to Forgive
This past weekend, 14 wild and worn-out women, weaved our way to Nashville, Tennessee to attend a "Deeper Still" conference with teaching by the infamous Beth Moore, Priscilla Evans Shirer and Kay Arthur. The icing on the cake was hearing American Idol singer, Mandisa. She was powerful in song, bold in her testimony, convicting regarding her forgiveness of Simon who openly criticized her weight on national television. It was a testimony of huge proportions to hear Mandisa share that while many had urged her to "let Simon have it" on national television, she chose to forgive him in the presence of millions of viewers. How powerful! How greatly that goes against the grain of what this world teaches humanity to do. While they chant "revenge"; Mandisa shocks the world with three words, "I forgive you".
By letting Simon off her hook and not retaliating, she is not forgetting what He said, but rather she is giving it to God and allowing Him to take care of it. She is choosing not to allow bitterness and resentment to take residence in her heart. I remember watching Simon's face on television the night Mandisa told him that she forgave his offense. He was speechless. The world does not understand this grace of forgiveness. It's a foreign idea to the reigning thought that one should retaliate, seek revenge and "give it to 'em with both barrels". I'm sure Simon fully expected to get his due because this is exactly the kind of stuff that boosts those television ratings. However, what Simon received is not what he deserved; he got grace, the same kind Jesus extended to us when He died on the cross for every past, present and future infraction we would ever commit against Him. It's the same exact forgiveness Christ offered to all of humanity, that none of us deserve.
Mandisa simply did what all of us are called to do as followers of Christ...forgive! Colossians 3:13 states, "Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you." No room for arguments or excuses here. This is a command. God forgives you; you forgive others. Simple words, but difficult to execute. How did Mandisa do this? How do we do this?
At the risk of sounding trite, let me say that we can only do this with God's help. Several years ago, a major offense was committed against me. I had every "right" to be angry, seek revenge and harbor bitter feelings toward the individual who sinned against me according to the world's standards. But being a Christ-follower, I had set aside those so-called "rights" to get even, to be unforgiving, to hang onto my anger. Let me tell you that my choice to forgive this person had nothing to do with my feelings or my forgetting of the offense. Frankly, I was scared to death that if I didn't forgive, my heavenly Father would not forgive me, and I knew that I was the greater offender.
Feelings are fickle at best. I cannot live relying on my feelings which change about a million times throughout the day. Just take my marriage relationship, for example. One minute I'm feeling mushy-gushy just thinking about my husband, but he could walk in late from work, and suddenly I'm hacked off at him. You know what I'm talking about! I'm committed to loving him no matter what I feel about him at any particular moment. Same thing with forgiveness. I didn't feel like forgiving, but as a committed Christian, I chose to extend it regardless. And what about the forgetting aspect? Oh, I haven't forgotten what happened. Somehow, we think that forgiveness means we forget what happened, that the person won't "pay" for what they did to us. Certainly not! It means that we choose not to allow their offenses to enslave us; it means that we are letting them off our hook...but God still holds them accountable for their actions. This gives me so much freedom...freedom from guilt and bitterness and freedom to live the life that Christ has called me to.
I think about Mandisa and how her actions in forgiving Simon shocked a world who is so counterculture to Christ-like values. Oh, that more of us would send mind-blowing messages like this to the people Christ puts in our paths. Just as Christ's forgiveness has transformed our lives; may the forgiveness we offer our family and friends draw them to the Christ whom we claim to belong!
By letting Simon off her hook and not retaliating, she is not forgetting what He said, but rather she is giving it to God and allowing Him to take care of it. She is choosing not to allow bitterness and resentment to take residence in her heart. I remember watching Simon's face on television the night Mandisa told him that she forgave his offense. He was speechless. The world does not understand this grace of forgiveness. It's a foreign idea to the reigning thought that one should retaliate, seek revenge and "give it to 'em with both barrels". I'm sure Simon fully expected to get his due because this is exactly the kind of stuff that boosts those television ratings. However, what Simon received is not what he deserved; he got grace, the same kind Jesus extended to us when He died on the cross for every past, present and future infraction we would ever commit against Him. It's the same exact forgiveness Christ offered to all of humanity, that none of us deserve.
Mandisa simply did what all of us are called to do as followers of Christ...forgive! Colossians 3:13 states, "Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you." No room for arguments or excuses here. This is a command. God forgives you; you forgive others. Simple words, but difficult to execute. How did Mandisa do this? How do we do this?
At the risk of sounding trite, let me say that we can only do this with God's help. Several years ago, a major offense was committed against me. I had every "right" to be angry, seek revenge and harbor bitter feelings toward the individual who sinned against me according to the world's standards. But being a Christ-follower, I had set aside those so-called "rights" to get even, to be unforgiving, to hang onto my anger. Let me tell you that my choice to forgive this person had nothing to do with my feelings or my forgetting of the offense. Frankly, I was scared to death that if I didn't forgive, my heavenly Father would not forgive me, and I knew that I was the greater offender.
Feelings are fickle at best. I cannot live relying on my feelings which change about a million times throughout the day. Just take my marriage relationship, for example. One minute I'm feeling mushy-gushy just thinking about my husband, but he could walk in late from work, and suddenly I'm hacked off at him. You know what I'm talking about! I'm committed to loving him no matter what I feel about him at any particular moment. Same thing with forgiveness. I didn't feel like forgiving, but as a committed Christian, I chose to extend it regardless. And what about the forgetting aspect? Oh, I haven't forgotten what happened. Somehow, we think that forgiveness means we forget what happened, that the person won't "pay" for what they did to us. Certainly not! It means that we choose not to allow their offenses to enslave us; it means that we are letting them off our hook...but God still holds them accountable for their actions. This gives me so much freedom...freedom from guilt and bitterness and freedom to live the life that Christ has called me to.
I think about Mandisa and how her actions in forgiving Simon shocked a world who is so counterculture to Christ-like values. Oh, that more of us would send mind-blowing messages like this to the people Christ puts in our paths. Just as Christ's forgiveness has transformed our lives; may the forgiveness we offer our family and friends draw them to the Christ whom we claim to belong!
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
More Maddie
This evening at dinner, Maddie shared, "Did you know that you can eat on the bus? On the way home, I shared my lunch with my friend." This is because her friends actually eat their lunch at school. My daughter chooses to talk and get to recess more quickly so that she must eat on the way home. Tony and I asked her which friend she gave some of her food to. "I don't remember her name." My husband and I glanced at each other because this is an ongoing problem with her of not remembering her friends' names. Noticing our looks, she said, "What? You know I never remember people's names!"
We howled because this is her father's trait...forgetting people's names.
We howled because this is her father's trait...forgetting people's names.
The New Neighbors
We have lived in the same neighborhood for the past 6 years, a small cul-de-sac of only six houses and really nice people. Over the past couple of years, 3 of these houses have changed hands, replaced by a strange, eclectic group of people. I tell you, I don't like it! I want my old, friendly, normal neighbors back. We all liked each other, stopped to talk through our car windows on the street, wandered over to each other's houses if we saw one another outside. Our neighbor, Jeff, next door would offer great advice about lawn care and planting trees or flowers. We went to his daughter's graduation from high school, her wedding two years later and then his son's graduation. We had become family. Then, they decided to build another house closer to the lake much to our dismay.
I knew we were in deep trouble when Jeff began describing the negotiations to sell their home with someone from the East coast. This guy sounded like a troublemaker; a cold, unfriendly, unreasonable dude. I wished for the deal to fall through, but alas, it didn't happen. This family moved in, a dad and his two teenage children. Being the good neighbor that I am, I baked 3 batches of brownies for this family. Why 3 batches? Well, I'm glad you asked. Because, the first batch, a new recipe, Maddie would not even eat. I couldn't serve those. Our dog, Bella, liked them, however. The second batch burned. The 3rd was scrumptious, but when we tried to deliver them, the family was never home. So, I put them in the freezer to be delivered after our return from our vacation to Seattle.
After thawing these yummy, frosted brownies, they sat on my counter for days. This family was never home. I didn't see them outside in the yard...ever! I finally just threw out the brownies and trashed my nice "welcome" card. One day, we saw the two kids next door riding bikes. This was my chance to finally meet them and show them how much I cared. After all, I had heard through the grapevine that their mom was dead. How awful! I could be a loving, nurturing woman next door to be there if they needed me. I had visions of being a second mom to these poor, neglected children until we were introduced. I met one polite 14 year old boy and one invasive, nosy 12 year old girl who has since permanently attached herself to my 6-year-old.
Danielle is over at our house the minute after we drive into the garage, ringing the doorbell for Maddie to ride bikes, play Barbie's or search for our other neighbor's dog wandering the neighborhood (another great story). Why does a teenager want to play with a 1st grader, anyway? She's even borrowed Maddie's Barbie's to give them makeovers. Weird! Danielle is an assertive little girl who's definitely also majoring in manipulation. "Mrs. Stonger, I hope I'm not bothering you guys too much. Tell me if I'm being a pest." Don't worry, I will!
I've been concerned about her influence on Maddie. My goodness, they were downstairs playing with the Barbie's, pretending they were rich and could buy anything they wanted. My overprotective self went into gear. "Whose idea was that, Maddie?" "Danielle's." I'm getting my ammunition ready so I can have a talk with this worldly girl who is influencing my little daughter. "Ok, so whose idea was it to play 'boyfriends' with the Barbie's?" "Mine," pipes Maddie. Darn it...must be the High School Musical 2. Time to cut out Disney shows.
It's interesting to me that this 7th grade girl has not connected with my 8th grade daughter. Alix is sweet, kind and has absolutely nothing in common with Danielle. And, she doesn't play with Barbie's anymore! I'm still trying to figure it all out...the dynamics of these relationships. Maddie, at 6, will play with anyone who gives her the time of day, not to mention that she's home more often than my gymnast, cheerleader daughter. Danielle wants friends; Alix has friends. Then, I discover that Danielle's mom is not deceased but rather is divorced from her dad. And, she's not allowed to have contact with her. This perhaps explains some of Danielle's querks. She is longing for attention and acceptance. Perhaps, she tells me that she doesn't want to be a pest to anybody because she's been told that she is one.
Because of some of Danielle's influence on Maddie, I've had numerous teaching moments with Maddie to "think for yourself." "What does that mean?" she asks me. "It means that if Danielle suggests something, and it is not something mommy and daddy would want you to do, you 'think for yourself' and you tell her you can't do it because it's not right." Believe me, we've already encountered this several times!
I'm truly torn. I want to reach out to this girl that needs to be loved and accepted, but I want my privacy too. My life is too busy to invest into an "egr" (extra-grace required) person. Unfortunately, I believe God is telling me to take the time, invest some love and see what He might do. My nice, little cozy world with my non-needy, hospitable, kind neighbors has been shaken up. While I wouldn't have voted this family into the neighborhood, God surely place them next door for a reason. He is doing something here, and I'm not sure I appreciate it. The message is blaring in my heart loud and clear. "Love your neighbor."
I knew we were in deep trouble when Jeff began describing the negotiations to sell their home with someone from the East coast. This guy sounded like a troublemaker; a cold, unfriendly, unreasonable dude. I wished for the deal to fall through, but alas, it didn't happen. This family moved in, a dad and his two teenage children. Being the good neighbor that I am, I baked 3 batches of brownies for this family. Why 3 batches? Well, I'm glad you asked. Because, the first batch, a new recipe, Maddie would not even eat. I couldn't serve those. Our dog, Bella, liked them, however. The second batch burned. The 3rd was scrumptious, but when we tried to deliver them, the family was never home. So, I put them in the freezer to be delivered after our return from our vacation to Seattle.
After thawing these yummy, frosted brownies, they sat on my counter for days. This family was never home. I didn't see them outside in the yard...ever! I finally just threw out the brownies and trashed my nice "welcome" card. One day, we saw the two kids next door riding bikes. This was my chance to finally meet them and show them how much I cared. After all, I had heard through the grapevine that their mom was dead. How awful! I could be a loving, nurturing woman next door to be there if they needed me. I had visions of being a second mom to these poor, neglected children until we were introduced. I met one polite 14 year old boy and one invasive, nosy 12 year old girl who has since permanently attached herself to my 6-year-old.
Danielle is over at our house the minute after we drive into the garage, ringing the doorbell for Maddie to ride bikes, play Barbie's or search for our other neighbor's dog wandering the neighborhood (another great story). Why does a teenager want to play with a 1st grader, anyway? She's even borrowed Maddie's Barbie's to give them makeovers. Weird! Danielle is an assertive little girl who's definitely also majoring in manipulation. "Mrs. Stonger, I hope I'm not bothering you guys too much. Tell me if I'm being a pest." Don't worry, I will!
I've been concerned about her influence on Maddie. My goodness, they were downstairs playing with the Barbie's, pretending they were rich and could buy anything they wanted. My overprotective self went into gear. "Whose idea was that, Maddie?" "Danielle's." I'm getting my ammunition ready so I can have a talk with this worldly girl who is influencing my little daughter. "Ok, so whose idea was it to play 'boyfriends' with the Barbie's?" "Mine," pipes Maddie. Darn it...must be the High School Musical 2. Time to cut out Disney shows.
It's interesting to me that this 7th grade girl has not connected with my 8th grade daughter. Alix is sweet, kind and has absolutely nothing in common with Danielle. And, she doesn't play with Barbie's anymore! I'm still trying to figure it all out...the dynamics of these relationships. Maddie, at 6, will play with anyone who gives her the time of day, not to mention that she's home more often than my gymnast, cheerleader daughter. Danielle wants friends; Alix has friends. Then, I discover that Danielle's mom is not deceased but rather is divorced from her dad. And, she's not allowed to have contact with her. This perhaps explains some of Danielle's querks. She is longing for attention and acceptance. Perhaps, she tells me that she doesn't want to be a pest to anybody because she's been told that she is one.
Because of some of Danielle's influence on Maddie, I've had numerous teaching moments with Maddie to "think for yourself." "What does that mean?" she asks me. "It means that if Danielle suggests something, and it is not something mommy and daddy would want you to do, you 'think for yourself' and you tell her you can't do it because it's not right." Believe me, we've already encountered this several times!
I'm truly torn. I want to reach out to this girl that needs to be loved and accepted, but I want my privacy too. My life is too busy to invest into an "egr" (extra-grace required) person. Unfortunately, I believe God is telling me to take the time, invest some love and see what He might do. My nice, little cozy world with my non-needy, hospitable, kind neighbors has been shaken up. While I wouldn't have voted this family into the neighborhood, God surely place them next door for a reason. He is doing something here, and I'm not sure I appreciate it. The message is blaring in my heart loud and clear. "Love your neighbor."
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
The Quotable Madisen
Occasionally, Miss Maddie confuses her words; this is a trait that she has inherited from her father. It's quite cute at age 6, however. Maddie announced as we were driving home from gymnastics a couple of nights ago that she wanted baked potatos for dinner. I told her that dinner was already prepared and baked potatos were not on the menu. "Well, when are we going to have mashed potatos?" "Probably at Thanksgiving, Maddie." (It's a once a year tradition in our house--too much work.) Maddie then whined, "Well, I like that syrup that goes on them." Yep, me too, Maddie, me too!
Yesterday Maddie informed me that her friend, Hannah, received an ipod for her birthday. Just as thoughts began to assail me that someone would actually give their 6-year-old an ipod for her birthday, Maddie clarified that it was her big friend Hannah on the bus. "You know, Mom, she was 12 and she just turned 11." Now, there's a trend I'd like to begin at age 43...going back in age each birthday!
Yesterday Maddie informed me that her friend, Hannah, received an ipod for her birthday. Just as thoughts began to assail me that someone would actually give their 6-year-old an ipod for her birthday, Maddie clarified that it was her big friend Hannah on the bus. "You know, Mom, she was 12 and she just turned 11." Now, there's a trend I'd like to begin at age 43...going back in age each birthday!
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
On Growth and Maturity
Something of great magnitude in the Kingdom of God occurred this past Sunday. My 13 year old daughter, Alix, was baptized. I'm sure there was great rejoicing in heaven as there was on the second pew where we were sitting. Several weeks ago, Alix called me from her week long camp at Kentucky Christian College and told me that she had made the decision to be baptized. I was ecstatic and told her that following Jesus was the most important decision she would ever make in her life. Realizing that this girl, my middle child, is not comfortable expressing her feelings, it meant a great deal to me that she called me to share this news. While I've always attempted to make it easy and comfortable for her to talk with me about her feelings and concerns, she just doesn't. This has caused me to trust God more with our relationship. I've had to realize that just because she's not like me, spilling my guts to anyone who cares, doesn't mean there is something wrong with her! As a matter of fact, maybe she's a little smarter than I am.
Over the last few years, I've watched this sweet girl mature into a beautiful, young teen. Deep down, I believe she has a great love for God and wants to do the right things, but she is more quiet about it. Isn't it so wonderful that God loves us all, as different as we are? Alix is extremely social with her friends, well-liked...yet private about many things. She is not one to volunteer information, but if I ask her a question, she has learned to willingly answer. This has been a process for her because she at one time felt that she didn't have to tell me certain things. However, through a series of events, she learned that in order to have trust, you can't have secrets or hide the truth. She's learned that she gains more freedom when she is open and doesn't hide things from her parents.
On a purely physical matter, she has made great strides in her choice of clothing. Last night, she and I had an "aha" moment. On the way home from cheerleading practice, Alix was complaining about the shirt the cheerleaders were required to wear to school the next day. "Mom, I don't want to wear that shirt. It's not fitted; it's a baggy t-shirt." "Oh, really? Hmmm...Alix, do you remember two years ago when you were in 6th grade? You would only wear baggy t-shirts! We bought you all these cute shirts, and you'd come out of your room with these ugly sports t-shirts you got for free from gymnastic's meets." She grinned sheepishly as I jarred her memory of those hideous shirts. I remember how I finally gave up the battle of the clothes, resigned to let her look like a slob. At least that's how I viewed it; she was comfortable with her choices. I made a choice that this battle of the wills was not worth it. As she entered junior high, she began to make different decisions about her clothes, deciding that she cared about how she looked and discarded the old t-shirts for bedtime pajamas! My, how she has grown over these past few years.
Yes, she is growing up. I continue to pray that she makes wise choices in the future about how she lives her life and that she roots herself deep in Christ so that she can stand firm no matter what comes her way!
Over the last few years, I've watched this sweet girl mature into a beautiful, young teen. Deep down, I believe she has a great love for God and wants to do the right things, but she is more quiet about it. Isn't it so wonderful that God loves us all, as different as we are? Alix is extremely social with her friends, well-liked...yet private about many things. She is not one to volunteer information, but if I ask her a question, she has learned to willingly answer. This has been a process for her because she at one time felt that she didn't have to tell me certain things. However, through a series of events, she learned that in order to have trust, you can't have secrets or hide the truth. She's learned that she gains more freedom when she is open and doesn't hide things from her parents.
On a purely physical matter, she has made great strides in her choice of clothing. Last night, she and I had an "aha" moment. On the way home from cheerleading practice, Alix was complaining about the shirt the cheerleaders were required to wear to school the next day. "Mom, I don't want to wear that shirt. It's not fitted; it's a baggy t-shirt." "Oh, really? Hmmm...Alix, do you remember two years ago when you were in 6th grade? You would only wear baggy t-shirts! We bought you all these cute shirts, and you'd come out of your room with these ugly sports t-shirts you got for free from gymnastic's meets." She grinned sheepishly as I jarred her memory of those hideous shirts. I remember how I finally gave up the battle of the clothes, resigned to let her look like a slob. At least that's how I viewed it; she was comfortable with her choices. I made a choice that this battle of the wills was not worth it. As she entered junior high, she began to make different decisions about her clothes, deciding that she cared about how she looked and discarded the old t-shirts for bedtime pajamas! My, how she has grown over these past few years.
Yes, she is growing up. I continue to pray that she makes wise choices in the future about how she lives her life and that she roots herself deep in Christ so that she can stand firm no matter what comes her way!
Saturday, August 25, 2007
Space Cadet-itis
"A condition in which one momentarily spaces out and does something stupid due to not paying attention. Occurs most of the time with blondes but may also happen with those of different hair color."
It appears that I have not only inherited this condition from one of my ancestors, but I have also unfortunately passed this trait to one of my daughters. I'm afraid, however, that my 13-year-old has a more severe case than I had at her age, unless my 43-year-old mind has blocked out all the bad memories of my airheadedness during my teen years. I do believe that this condition improves with maturity. Occasionally, I do have relapses, though.
For example, just last week at the Target Starbuck's counter, I ordered a grande light Cafe Vanilla Frappacino, while at the same time fumbling in my wallet to give Maddie two quarters to buy a cookie at the other counter. Directly after ordering and giving the coins to her, I left the register to wait for my drink at the other counter. When I glanced over at the girl standing behind the register, she said, "Uh, it's $4.62." I apparently completely spaced out about paying for my drink in the confusion over the quarters. I apologized profusely siting my "space cadet-itis" condition to her as the reason for my negligence in paying. She seemed to know exactly what I was talking about.
Just yesterday morning while I was preparing to apply my make up, I was deep in thought...as deep as a blonde can be. I reached for my toner and a cotton ball and began smoothing it across my face when I realized I had inadvertently grabbed the nail polish remover. Did you know that they have about the same smell? "What a space cadet!" I said to the face in the mirror.
While this airhead condition I have seems to have diminished over the years, it's quite clear that I will be cursed with episodes and relapses that occur out of the blue, when I least expect it. It creeps up on me at unsuspecting times; you know, the times when I am frantically searching for my keys when I suddenly realize that I am holding them.
It appears that I have not only inherited this condition from one of my ancestors, but I have also unfortunately passed this trait to one of my daughters. I'm afraid, however, that my 13-year-old has a more severe case than I had at her age, unless my 43-year-old mind has blocked out all the bad memories of my airheadedness during my teen years. I do believe that this condition improves with maturity. Occasionally, I do have relapses, though.
For example, just last week at the Target Starbuck's counter, I ordered a grande light Cafe Vanilla Frappacino, while at the same time fumbling in my wallet to give Maddie two quarters to buy a cookie at the other counter. Directly after ordering and giving the coins to her, I left the register to wait for my drink at the other counter. When I glanced over at the girl standing behind the register, she said, "Uh, it's $4.62." I apparently completely spaced out about paying for my drink in the confusion over the quarters. I apologized profusely siting my "space cadet-itis" condition to her as the reason for my negligence in paying. She seemed to know exactly what I was talking about.
Just yesterday morning while I was preparing to apply my make up, I was deep in thought...as deep as a blonde can be. I reached for my toner and a cotton ball and began smoothing it across my face when I realized I had inadvertently grabbed the nail polish remover. Did you know that they have about the same smell? "What a space cadet!" I said to the face in the mirror.
While this airhead condition I have seems to have diminished over the years, it's quite clear that I will be cursed with episodes and relapses that occur out of the blue, when I least expect it. It creeps up on me at unsuspecting times; you know, the times when I am frantically searching for my keys when I suddenly realize that I am holding them.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Age of Exploration Part II
Portugal's newest explorers are pictured here! Vasco de Gama and Prince Henry the Navigator have absolutely nothing on us! Ok, so they made Portugal famous way back in the 15th and 16th centuries with explorations to India and Africa and their discovery of the spices that made Portugal rich, but what about us? We made our own discoveries in our journey. I'm seriously thinking that a nice statue of us would go well here in the Jeronimos Monastery built with the so-called "pepper" tax.I discovered a new very important word in Portuguese...the word "saldos" means "sale". It didn't take this blonde very long to learn what that word meant that was blanketed across every store front! My only disappointment was that Tony decided to control all the euros and doled them out very sparingly.
Maddie was very pleased to learn that Cinderella's coach resides in the Coach Museum in Lisbon which contains the largest collection of royal coaches in the world. It turns out that her coach did not change back into a pumpkin after all. Please notify all your little princesses of this important news. I definitely would have wanted to be royalty during this time period. Peasants travelled by foot, and in the city of Lisbon with all of its steep cobblestone sidewalks and streets, this can get very tiring and causes soreness in one's calves.
Another discovery! A Moorish castle built in the 8th and 9th centuries. How does one exactly build something of this magnitude this far up into the hills and with what tools? A chisel and hammer? Some of the cathedrals and castles we explored took over 100 years to build. Imagine working on a building you'd never see completed. I didn't realize that the Muslims had quite an influence in Portugal early in their history. Much of the architecture is Islamic. The Christians conquered and took over this castle in the 1100's.
This amazing castle, the Pena Palace, was built in the mid-1800's by King Ferdinand who was strongly influenced by his cousin, King Ludwig of Bavaria who built the Disneylike castle Neuschwanstein. Ferdinand hired an architect who combined several styles of architecture, Gothic towers, Renaissance domes, Moorish minarets and Manueline carving. Of course, it has the characteristic Arabic tiles as well. Tony came up with his own unmentionable name for this palace...hmmm, wonder what that could be?
The bidet happened to be my husband's favorite new toy! He's quite convinced we need to install one in our bathroom. Is it men that just use these objects? For some reason, I'm not quite figuring it out and don't see the necessity for such a fixture in our bathroom. Enlighten me if you view these objects differently.
Our final day in Lisbon, we meandered through the streets of the Alfama, the oldest section of the city. The Sao Jorge castle was built here by the Moors in the 9th century and was used for several hundred years as the King's palace after the Christians conquered the city. We counted 6 churches in this area of the city! The Alfama begins high above the city, as you see in this picture, and contains all the buildings below as well. We walked down via cobblestone stairs and narrow alleys in the midst of hanging laundry, Portuguese gossip across rod iron balconies and the occasional small restaurant or village market (with pig's feet displayed in the windows) to arrive at the bottom nearest the Tagus River. This is where the old-timers live while the younger folks are venturing out into areas of the city where more of the modern conveniences are. I think it's the public baths that are causing this phenomenon; I don't blame them. All in favor of indoor plumbing, say "aye".
This is just a snapshot of our Portugal adventures. We absolutely loved this country and its people. I fell in love with the language and seriously considered coming back to the states to learn it. Don't ask me why except it's very beautiful, very French-like in some ways. However, more than one person has told me that it's a very difficult language to learn. Perhaps I'll save it for another day. Someday, I hope to get the opportunity to explore more in the other villages of Portugal. However, for all the excitement that Portugal provided, it could not compare to the precious time together that Tony and I had. Many times during this trip, I fought back tears as I thought, "I am blessed beyond measure, Lord!" Yes, I am truly a sap. Still, I know how blessed I am in so many ways and I must express my gratefulness to God continually.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
A New Chapter
This morning one school bus arrived at 7:20 to transport two children to junior high and high school for the first day of school, a normal occurance for many years now. The major change this year, however, is that one hour later, another school bus came to take my youngest to her first ALL day experience as a 1st grader. Why is this so difficult? I should be jumping for joy, ecstatic at having entire days at my disposal to eat chocolate, watch daytime television and generally do nothing. No more interruptions during the day while I'm attempting to do my Bible study, blog or bake. No more whining for snacks, watching tv or playing on the computer. No more two hour grocery trips begging my little one to stay with me, asking her to stop touching everything or telling her to put the candy or gum back. No more "not now", "later", or "in a minute". No more noise.
Ahhhh, I hate it already. In all my longing for peace and quiet, I love hearing that little, not so quiet voice. I love hearing her playing mommy to her dolls. I love listening to her voice read to me, sounding out difficult words. I love having her ask me to close my eyes so she can show me how she made her bed or cleaned the bathroom (everything lined up neatly across the counter). I love her cuddling up next to me to tell me she loves me. I love the spontaneous notes she writes to her daddy and me.
Yes, I shed some tears this morning. It's too quiet here. This is such a surprise to me, these emotions. I'm grieving the loss of what was and will never be again. I spent some time asking God for direction in this new phase of life I'm in. I realize there are new doors He will open, opportunities for ministry and work. But, I still don't like this right now. I want that little girl back with all her spunk and love, her "life's a party" mentality and humor and yes, even her disobedience and destructiveness. It's just way too quiet!
Ahhhh, I hate it already. In all my longing for peace and quiet, I love hearing that little, not so quiet voice. I love hearing her playing mommy to her dolls. I love listening to her voice read to me, sounding out difficult words. I love having her ask me to close my eyes so she can show me how she made her bed or cleaned the bathroom (everything lined up neatly across the counter). I love her cuddling up next to me to tell me she loves me. I love the spontaneous notes she writes to her daddy and me.
Yes, I shed some tears this morning. It's too quiet here. This is such a surprise to me, these emotions. I'm grieving the loss of what was and will never be again. I spent some time asking God for direction in this new phase of life I'm in. I realize there are new doors He will open, opportunities for ministry and work. But, I still don't like this right now. I want that little girl back with all her spunk and love, her "life's a party" mentality and humor and yes, even her disobedience and destructiveness. It's just way too quiet!
Friday, August 3, 2007
Two Days From Now
It hasn't quite registered to me that in 48 hours, Tony and I will be flying over the Atlantic to Lisbon, Portugal. No kids. No cooking. No cleaning. No normal life. For 8 days we'll pretend that we haven't a care in the world except which cathedral or castle to behold. No bickering except between us! No worries except what to order off the menu. I will even bask in the entire 9 hour flight since I can read with no interruptions until I doze off.
My three children will be in the most excellent care of their grandparents who make us look like complete bores. Besides their awesome responsibility of playing taxi driver and the general feeding and care of the grandkids, it'll be a week of playing games, eating ice cream and considerable other junk items and quite possibly little, if any chores. It makes it a little tricky when the bores return and crack the whip of daily chores, are too busy for games and allow no ice cream if a good meal has not been consumed. Who cares about these great luxuries afforded them during this week? Not me because for one week I have absolutely no worries about the well-being of my precious gifts from above.
While I won't be blogging for a few days, stay tuned for some pictures from Portugal as well as reflections about our visit. Bon voyage, hasta la vista...
My three children will be in the most excellent care of their grandparents who make us look like complete bores. Besides their awesome responsibility of playing taxi driver and the general feeding and care of the grandkids, it'll be a week of playing games, eating ice cream and considerable other junk items and quite possibly little, if any chores. It makes it a little tricky when the bores return and crack the whip of daily chores, are too busy for games and allow no ice cream if a good meal has not been consumed. Who cares about these great luxuries afforded them during this week? Not me because for one week I have absolutely no worries about the well-being of my precious gifts from above.
While I won't be blogging for a few days, stay tuned for some pictures from Portugal as well as reflections about our visit. Bon voyage, hasta la vista...
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Cleaning House...What a drag!
I am a pathetic housekeeper, really! The only time I accomplish some deep cleaning is, oh, you know...when company is coming! So, my parents are arriving tomorrow morning from the West coast, and I have been scrubbing, washing, sweeping, mopping, vacuuming like a madwoman for the past two days in between running kids to tennis, gymnastics and the pool. Why do I do this to myself? My kids and husband avoid me during these times because I turn into the wicked witch from the west.
Certain friends of mine have actual cleaning schedules. I tried that...once. I guess it required too much self discipline or something. Monday was laundry day; Tuesday, floors; Wednesday, bathrooms, etc. I'd really like to implement something like this into my days. Then, perhaps I wouldn't become such a basket case right before family shows up on my doorstep. Instead of washing 18 windows and 3 sliding doors inside and out hours before, I could actually start weeks ahead of time. I could space out the vacuuming over a few days to avoid the incessant barking of our dog, who goes completely loony during the cleaning process. Imagine having a clean house weekly instead of quarterly!
Tony doesn't understand any of this madness, not that I'm too concerned about it. Goodness gracious, I need to keep up the appearances that my house looks like it's spotless all the time. I guess it's one of those masks I wear, you know, the "I have it all together" look or at least my house does. Truly, when I clean my house, it's less about the fact that it's dirty and more about people's perceptions of me. This is the part Tony doesn't get. "Who cares?" is his cry. Well, golly, jeepers, I sure do care. How could I even think of having family or friends stay at my house with toys strewn about, dust on my shelves or bird doo-doo on the windows? It's okay if my family and I live in that muck most of the time, but I sure don't want to advertise that to anyone else.
Now you know the "real" me. I'm coming out of the closet, coming clean! I am a severe procrastinator with regard to cleaning. I may even be allergic to it. I'll let you know if I break out into hives or my eyes become puffy or swollen. Perhaps then Tony will fire that lousy housekeeper! Wishful thinking, I'm sure.
Alas, I'm tired and sore, but my tasks are complete...mostly. I didn't get all the white doors wiped free of fingerprints and other odd stains; a few windows are still dirty; weeds still permeate the front flowerbed. Oh well, there's always tomorrow at 6 am before I leave for the airport, or not! I don't want my parents to think I'm perfect.
Certain friends of mine have actual cleaning schedules. I tried that...once. I guess it required too much self discipline or something. Monday was laundry day; Tuesday, floors; Wednesday, bathrooms, etc. I'd really like to implement something like this into my days. Then, perhaps I wouldn't become such a basket case right before family shows up on my doorstep. Instead of washing 18 windows and 3 sliding doors inside and out hours before, I could actually start weeks ahead of time. I could space out the vacuuming over a few days to avoid the incessant barking of our dog, who goes completely loony during the cleaning process. Imagine having a clean house weekly instead of quarterly!
Tony doesn't understand any of this madness, not that I'm too concerned about it. Goodness gracious, I need to keep up the appearances that my house looks like it's spotless all the time. I guess it's one of those masks I wear, you know, the "I have it all together" look or at least my house does. Truly, when I clean my house, it's less about the fact that it's dirty and more about people's perceptions of me. This is the part Tony doesn't get. "Who cares?" is his cry. Well, golly, jeepers, I sure do care. How could I even think of having family or friends stay at my house with toys strewn about, dust on my shelves or bird doo-doo on the windows? It's okay if my family and I live in that muck most of the time, but I sure don't want to advertise that to anyone else.
Now you know the "real" me. I'm coming out of the closet, coming clean! I am a severe procrastinator with regard to cleaning. I may even be allergic to it. I'll let you know if I break out into hives or my eyes become puffy or swollen. Perhaps then Tony will fire that lousy housekeeper! Wishful thinking, I'm sure.
Alas, I'm tired and sore, but my tasks are complete...mostly. I didn't get all the white doors wiped free of fingerprints and other odd stains; a few windows are still dirty; weeds still permeate the front flowerbed. Oh well, there's always tomorrow at 6 am before I leave for the airport, or not! I don't want my parents to think I'm perfect.
Friday, July 27, 2007
Benefits of Drug-Induced Insomnia
1. Uninterrupted computer time at 12:30 am to research the antibiotic I'm taking, Levaquin, and discovering certain side effects can be insomnia. Confusion and hallucinations are other affects of the drug which I also experienced as I lay tossing, turning and generally wigging out before I actually arose out of bed to do my research.
2. No distractions while I'm responding to my email.
3. I don't have to hiss at my children, "Be quiet because I'm having my quiet time with the Lord" since they are all asleep during the hours I'm awake.
4. Finishing the book Envy by Bob Sorge by 2:30 am.
5. Enjoying extended prayer time for everyone/everywhere, even though I'm in a catatonic state and can barely think clearly.
6. Eating a piece of Milky Way dark chocolate and noone knows or cares.
7. Listening to the silence; it's golden.
8. Plenty of time to plan the next vacation.
9. Contemplating that this might be a good time of the day to scrapbook....or not!
10. Thinking bad thoughts and harboring anger towards the doctor who prescribed this without telling me that one of the side effects is severe sleeplessness.
11. Crawling in bed at 4 am wishing for sleep but knowing that when the alarm clock rings at 6:00 am, I'll still be awake.
I think I'll ask the doctor to prescribe some Valium to go with this Levaquin...Nap today, anyone?
2. No distractions while I'm responding to my email.
3. I don't have to hiss at my children, "Be quiet because I'm having my quiet time with the Lord" since they are all asleep during the hours I'm awake.
4. Finishing the book Envy by Bob Sorge by 2:30 am.
5. Enjoying extended prayer time for everyone/everywhere, even though I'm in a catatonic state and can barely think clearly.
6. Eating a piece of Milky Way dark chocolate and noone knows or cares.
7. Listening to the silence; it's golden.
8. Plenty of time to plan the next vacation.
9. Contemplating that this might be a good time of the day to scrapbook....or not!
10. Thinking bad thoughts and harboring anger towards the doctor who prescribed this without telling me that one of the side effects is severe sleeplessness.
11. Crawling in bed at 4 am wishing for sleep but knowing that when the alarm clock rings at 6:00 am, I'll still be awake.
I think I'll ask the doctor to prescribe some Valium to go with this Levaquin...Nap today, anyone?
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Warning! Caution! Take Heed!
Mostly, you better just get off the roads now because my 16-year-old just got his driver's license today. He tells me he wants to "go somewhere" tonight "by himself"; however, he doesn't know where to go. Maddie, 6, says, "He's all grown-up now." Yeah, like she'd know anything about that. Well, I have a whole new set of things to worry about, so please pray for me! Just when life was getting to be such a breeze...yeah, right!
Whispers
Many times as I read God's word, a verse literally jumps off the page and grabs hold of me. This morning was like that. Proverbs 26:20 says, "For lack of wood the fire goes out, and where there is no whisperer, contention quiets down." I've been a whisperer before, have you? I've thrown more wood on the fire, keeping it burning, hurting others. It's embarassing to get caught adding wood to the flame. So simple the solution! Don't whisper; don't be the source; don't be the wood. Your words will never come back to bite you if you're quiet. Reminds me of another verse in James which says, "So also the tongue is a small part of the body, and yet it boasts of great things. Behold, how great a forest is set aflame by such a small fire!" It's the whispers that start out small and quiet, yet can quite quickly become a raging fire out of control. Help me, Lord, to keep my mouth shut!
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Out of the Mouths of Babes
Maddie to her grandma (Tony's mom) while driving the two hours to Portland, Oregon on our vacation: "Why do you keep on talking?" It didn't faze grandma one bit, and she kept right on gabbing! Now, if I'd have said that...
Maddie to me during dinner with grandma and grandpa: "Why is grandpa's nose so big?" Hmmmm....
Maddie to me in the car with grandma and grandpa: "Why did grandma pick a man who smokes?" Everytime grandpa would go outside to puff on his pipe, Maddie would report to us that he was smoking...as she does everytime she sees ANYONE smoke!
Maddie to me during dinner with grandma and grandpa: "Why is grandpa's nose so big?" Hmmmm....
Maddie to me in the car with grandma and grandpa: "Why did grandma pick a man who smokes?" Everytime grandpa would go outside to puff on his pipe, Maddie would report to us that he was smoking...as she does everytime she sees ANYONE smoke!
Monday, July 23, 2007
Blonde Confessions
I have what is now becoming a very serious problem. This weekend I locked my keys in the car for the 6th time in 6 years! What is wrong with me? I really thought I was becoming a paranoid schizophrenic about my keys because it is not uncommon for me to check at least twice BEFORE I shut the car door to make sure my keys are in fact in my purse. But, I still did it!
Let me recount that myriad of other instances in which I have accomplished this feat. The first time, I had just moved to Indiana when I locked them in the car at a Pizza Hut. I didn't realize it at the time because I had been talking on the cell phone while my then 1 year old had knocked the keys on the floor after playing with them. After my kids and I had a nice pizza dinner and returned to the car, I panicked after not locating them. Peering in the car, I noticed they were laying on the floor, completely unavailable to me. Of course, Tony had to be in New York and was also completely unavailable to bail me out. That time, I called a locksmith, who thank goodness, seemed to be on call 24/7. Unfortunately, he charged me more than my husband would have.
The second and third occurances were at post offices, and oddly enough, also happened while I was distracted on the cell phone. That blasted phone and my blonde brain are just not a good combination. The fourth happening? I still can't figure this one out, but I locked the keys in my running car at a Wendy's. I didn't think that was actually possible, but apparently it is. Don't try it! The fourth lock-out was at a craft store. Fortunately, this a good place to be when you are waiting for your hubby to rescue you. I shopped until Tony had me paged on the store intercom. All was well once again.
I know you are wondering at this point why I didn't have enough brains to buy a magnetic key box. Tony did too. He strongly encouraged me to drive post haste to the hardware store and buy one of those thingamajigs. Being the submissive wife that I am, I obeyed his urgings. But, alas, I drove around with it sitting IN my car for weeks before I finally lost it. So, I never took care of my problem. Instead, I just became a freak about checking to make sure my keys were in my purse. It didn't help, obviously.
This weekend, while traveling back from a tennis tournament with Nick and Maddie, I locked my keys in the car while pumping gas at a convenience store in a town about an hour from where we live. Not only that, but my cell phone and my purse were in the car. How did you do that, you ask? I have no earthly idea. I mean, I wouldn't have done that! I merely threw the keys in the driver seat while I was standing beside the car waiting for the tank to fill. Personally, I think the force of my throw caused the wrong button to get pushed on the remote which apparently, locked all the doors. My first thought, honestly? "Tony is going to kill me!" My second thought? "Does Tony really need to know about this? I can just call a locksmith, right? What Tony doesn't know doesn't hurt him, right?" Bad idea!
The nice ladies in the convenience store became a big help to me in my efforts to avoid calling hubby by allowing me to use the phone to try my first plan of action...the police! This became my main resource because when I asked them about a locksmith, they gave me blank looks. Ahhh, the police it is! Not such a good idea it turns out. Did you know that vans have an anti-theft locking system installed? Neither did I. The police's antiquated tool doesn't work on these new-fangled vans. I also discovered that itty bitty, hole-in-the-wall towns don't apparently have locksmiths that work when people need them. If you haven't guess it by now, I was at my last resort...hubby! I guess I did give him quite a scare, however, when I told him I was in this tiny town with a policeman beside me. He later told me that he thought I was crying. I wasn't crying; I was scared to tell him my horrible sin!
Needless to say, while the three of us were sitting in the store, waiting an hour for Tony to arrive to unlock the car, we constructively occupied ourselves by playing "I spy with my little eye something...." Not many have the opportunity to spend such quality time together. Well, we had to do something to keep Maddie from bouncing off the walls. She wanted to eat everything she in sight, and I only had 3 dollars in my pocket because my purse was in the lock-up. Two of those dollars came from the nice policeman because Maddie said she wanted something to drink. The boldness of a 6-year-old. My 16-year-old would have died rather than admit he was thirsty or hungry yet had no money. So, this little guessing game entertained the energizer bunny, aka Maddie, for the next hour until you-know-who arrived.
My knight in shining armor rode in an hour later on his white steed and rescued his princess from her idiotic predicament...complete without a "what were you thinking" or a "I can't believe you did it again". He even took us all out to the DQ for an ice cream. What a man! My next goal besides getting a more brunette brain is to buy another key box!
There is a spiritual application to this story. How many times do I repeat the same sin, am afraid to confess to my Savior (as if He doesn't already know), and wait from Him to rescue me? Jesus delights when I come to Him, admit my mistakes and my shame and ask for help. He isn't standing there with a baseball bat, either, saying, "I can't believe you did this again. When are you going to learn?" While I am attempting to get help through other means, Jesus is waiting for me to crawl into His arms full of love and forgiveness. I simply need to quit trying to do things on my own, conjuring up my own faulty solutions to my problems and run to my rescuer. He's waiting!
"What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death? Thanks be to God--through Jesus Christ our Lord!" Romans 7:24-25
"...he does not treat us as our sins deserve or repay us according to our iniquities. For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his love for those who fear him; as far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us." Psalm 103:10-12
"'Because he loves me," says the LORD, "I will rescue him; I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name. He was call upon me, and I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble, I will deliver him and honor him. Psalm 91:14-15
Let me recount that myriad of other instances in which I have accomplished this feat. The first time, I had just moved to Indiana when I locked them in the car at a Pizza Hut. I didn't realize it at the time because I had been talking on the cell phone while my then 1 year old had knocked the keys on the floor after playing with them. After my kids and I had a nice pizza dinner and returned to the car, I panicked after not locating them. Peering in the car, I noticed they were laying on the floor, completely unavailable to me. Of course, Tony had to be in New York and was also completely unavailable to bail me out. That time, I called a locksmith, who thank goodness, seemed to be on call 24/7. Unfortunately, he charged me more than my husband would have.
The second and third occurances were at post offices, and oddly enough, also happened while I was distracted on the cell phone. That blasted phone and my blonde brain are just not a good combination. The fourth happening? I still can't figure this one out, but I locked the keys in my running car at a Wendy's. I didn't think that was actually possible, but apparently it is. Don't try it! The fourth lock-out was at a craft store. Fortunately, this a good place to be when you are waiting for your hubby to rescue you. I shopped until Tony had me paged on the store intercom. All was well once again.
I know you are wondering at this point why I didn't have enough brains to buy a magnetic key box. Tony did too. He strongly encouraged me to drive post haste to the hardware store and buy one of those thingamajigs. Being the submissive wife that I am, I obeyed his urgings. But, alas, I drove around with it sitting IN my car for weeks before I finally lost it. So, I never took care of my problem. Instead, I just became a freak about checking to make sure my keys were in my purse. It didn't help, obviously.
This weekend, while traveling back from a tennis tournament with Nick and Maddie, I locked my keys in the car while pumping gas at a convenience store in a town about an hour from where we live. Not only that, but my cell phone and my purse were in the car. How did you do that, you ask? I have no earthly idea. I mean, I wouldn't have done that! I merely threw the keys in the driver seat while I was standing beside the car waiting for the tank to fill. Personally, I think the force of my throw caused the wrong button to get pushed on the remote which apparently, locked all the doors. My first thought, honestly? "Tony is going to kill me!" My second thought? "Does Tony really need to know about this? I can just call a locksmith, right? What Tony doesn't know doesn't hurt him, right?" Bad idea!
The nice ladies in the convenience store became a big help to me in my efforts to avoid calling hubby by allowing me to use the phone to try my first plan of action...the police! This became my main resource because when I asked them about a locksmith, they gave me blank looks. Ahhh, the police it is! Not such a good idea it turns out. Did you know that vans have an anti-theft locking system installed? Neither did I. The police's antiquated tool doesn't work on these new-fangled vans. I also discovered that itty bitty, hole-in-the-wall towns don't apparently have locksmiths that work when people need them. If you haven't guess it by now, I was at my last resort...hubby! I guess I did give him quite a scare, however, when I told him I was in this tiny town with a policeman beside me. He later told me that he thought I was crying. I wasn't crying; I was scared to tell him my horrible sin!
Needless to say, while the three of us were sitting in the store, waiting an hour for Tony to arrive to unlock the car, we constructively occupied ourselves by playing "I spy with my little eye something...." Not many have the opportunity to spend such quality time together. Well, we had to do something to keep Maddie from bouncing off the walls. She wanted to eat everything she in sight, and I only had 3 dollars in my pocket because my purse was in the lock-up. Two of those dollars came from the nice policeman because Maddie said she wanted something to drink. The boldness of a 6-year-old. My 16-year-old would have died rather than admit he was thirsty or hungry yet had no money. So, this little guessing game entertained the energizer bunny, aka Maddie, for the next hour until you-know-who arrived.
My knight in shining armor rode in an hour later on his white steed and rescued his princess from her idiotic predicament...complete without a "what were you thinking" or a "I can't believe you did it again". He even took us all out to the DQ for an ice cream. What a man! My next goal besides getting a more brunette brain is to buy another key box!
There is a spiritual application to this story. How many times do I repeat the same sin, am afraid to confess to my Savior (as if He doesn't already know), and wait from Him to rescue me? Jesus delights when I come to Him, admit my mistakes and my shame and ask for help. He isn't standing there with a baseball bat, either, saying, "I can't believe you did this again. When are you going to learn?" While I am attempting to get help through other means, Jesus is waiting for me to crawl into His arms full of love and forgiveness. I simply need to quit trying to do things on my own, conjuring up my own faulty solutions to my problems and run to my rescuer. He's waiting!
"What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death? Thanks be to God--through Jesus Christ our Lord!" Romans 7:24-25
"...he does not treat us as our sins deserve or repay us according to our iniquities. For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his love for those who fear him; as far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us." Psalm 103:10-12
"'Because he loves me," says the LORD, "I will rescue him; I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name. He was call upon me, and I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble, I will deliver him and honor him. Psalm 91:14-15
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
