Learning How to Think

"I was just thinking". Now that's a good phrase to hear. Especially from my kids. I used to think that people are born knowing how to think, but the older I get the more I realize how untrue that is. Well, maybe I should clarify: people are not born knowing how to think correctly.

I guess it goes back to the Fall. Everything fell, even our intellect. And even if we think really hard, our starting point is usually flawed. It's sort of like evolutionists: they presuppose the Earth's age at billions of years old and go from there. Everything that comes after is flawed because their presupposition is wrong.

Hmmm. Where was I going with this.... Oh yeah. Thinking. As I grow in grace I realize how lazy I am in my thinking and when I do think, I usually start with what I feel or like instead of truth.

Example:

I decide I need to spend more time with Gracie because I think she is struggling with fear. I remember struggling with fear as a child. I felt unsafe as a child. I felt like I needed to protect my parents as a child. Therefore, Gracie needs me to show her that I will protect her.

Presupposition 1: Gracie has the same kind of childhood that I did.

Presupposition 2: My love is enough to calm her fears.

Both are wrong. Her childhood is very different from mine. And according to 1John 4:18 - Perfect love casts out fear. Hmmm. I guess that excludes me.

So what does she need then? A correct, Biblical worldview presupposes that we are created for God and our deepest need is for him. So... she needs Christ. She needs the gospel.

My actions toward her may be the same as before: pray with her, snuggle with her, let her leave her nightlight on, etc. But my reason for doing those things is different. And one thing I have learned is that people, children especially, learn what you believe more than they learn what you say.

Glimpses

Sometimes your children do small, seemingly insignificant things that give you a tiny little glimpse of the person they will become. And it's simply amazing when that little glimpse makes you giddy with excitement for that day to come.

(Sidenote - I think a person's taste in music tells me more about our potential friendship their words ever could. Truly.)

That being said... go listen to Maggie's playlist on her blog. It's a little glimpse that she and I are going to be great friends one day... *smile*

Dear Santa

I would like to make a note of the few things that I want for Christmas. I know it seems childish, but if I don't write it down I'll forget them.

1. I want some good slippers. I have none and my feet get cold. But my husband gets annoyed when I walk around in socks because it will wear holes in them. Need slippers.

2. Chopin's Nocturnes. Because they are just so beautiful.

3. An under-the-counter can opener. Mine is old and broken and I miss it.

4. New candles. I haven't bought any in probably three years and you can tell. Pitiful.

That's all I've thought of so far. Maybe I'll add to the list later...

Ridiculous Rambling

I hate that I don't blog much anymore. There are so many times that I'm out and about and think of a post topic but by the time I get to a place where I can do something with it, I forget! It's pretty annoying.

The age of the blog is somewhat past I think. Facebook has taken over. FB is more about instant gratification and quantity over quality. Which has its appeal, even for me. But the good old blog that makes you slow down, settle in and absorb has its appeal too.

My schedule is sooo close to slowing down. For those of you who read this and don't know my schedule of late, let's suffice it to say, I've had obligations every day of the week since August. Football for both boys has now headed into the playoffs, meaning we're almost done for the year. Ballet and music still continues. But football has taken up three nights a week and all of Saturday.

Football has been so fulfilling. Brody and Ty have learned a lot about the game and themselves. Plus they've made lots of friends. I've gotten the opportunity to meet some new people too. All of this figures into learning how to plant a church, meeting people and longing for ways to share the gospel with them.

I wish church planting was a clear and concise thing, but alas, it is not. I'm learning to find the sensation of being completely out of control reassuring. It's when I feel like I'm doing it right that I start to take ownership of it. And that always ends badly.

I need a haircut. Anyone know how to do that? For free? ... Hmmm. Anyone? Beuller?

Being Missional

Missy and I are having a great time making up life stories for everyone we meet. So far, 'Patricia' has quite the sordid past. She's slightly damaged. 'Jorge', her husband tries to help her but she needs more than he can give.

'Hank' sat in the hot tub for several hours talking to 'Richard' about the rogue crabs that try to take over the condo pool during the night. No conclusions were reached.

Across the way, in the other building we watched as 'Ethel' lost her hair money to 'Estelle'. Bless her heart. It was probably because 'Estelle' made her sit in a really uncomfortable chair, knowing that she has a bad back. Their husbands, Bill and Henry, sat in the other room composing new southern gospel music for their band, The Blue Hair Group. They're really popular.

'Joe' the maintanence guy had to close up the pool early so he could get home to his 400 pound wife, cause she needs her doughnuts.

Today, we met the other Joe, who's real name turned out to be Colin which made me very happy. Anyways, Joe (aka Colin) let us use the chairs and umbrella for free, but we had to pay $20 to look at him. It was a steal really. We're gonna sell some stuff out of the condo to get some more money for tomorrow.

Maggie's Words

Maggie has a new blog and I like it very much. I need to help her change the settings for comments though; it wouldn't let me leave one...

I like her writings. I like the way her mind works. I always have. I remember once, when she was in second grade, she decided to get creative with her sentences for spelling. I remember one in particular, I'll put the spelling words in italics. "Sarah Wilkes is jelly and I will have happiness." Funny.

She should write more, I think. Check it and see if you agree.

www.margaretsharp.blogspot.com

Fundamental Differences

There are fundamental differences between boys and girls. If someone tries to tell you this is untrue, what they're really telling you is that they have no children of their own, and in fact, have never met anyone under the age of 18.

A girl is handed a Barbie doll and immediately begins to plan a wedding. A boy, given the same doll, immediately begins to plan a death. I have heard one of my sons give his sister the following advice: "You need to take it to the pool house next time and try to drown it. I bet it'll make bubbles." His sister looked at him in horror and clutched her doll to her chest.

Girls tend not to laugh at each other as play. They may laugh at someone who's not there but not each other. It's just not funny. They will get their feelings hurt and cry and uninvite people to their party, even if that party is nine months in the future.

Boys see a stick and fall in love. I've never seen one of my daughters do this. A stick is... well, a stick. But a boy sees the same random piece of wood and catches his breath. He must have this stick. (Not unlike my father who, seeing a bolt in the middle of a busy intersection, will risk his life to obtain it.) A stick is full of magic. It can be a gun, a sword, a lightsaber, a battle axe, (are you seeing a pattern here?) even a machete. A stick can save an empire. Unless your sister, completely unaware of its power, throws it into the bonfire. Then of course, the empire is on hold until a suitable replacement can be found.

In the same vein, when boys play, you hear the word "die" a lot. Sometimes in quick succession. (ie. "Die! Die! Die!) Not so with girls. Girls say things like "pretty" and "silly" and "ohhhh!". Boys and girls playing together? Well then you hear things like "That's stupid" or "Stop it!" or "Whatever."

I've never seen my daughters do tricks with their, um, privates. Boys however, well that's a different story. Many a conversation has been halted because the introductory sentence was, "Momma, did you know that a penis can..." Aahhhhh! Stop talking. Stop. Talking. Now. My children learned the word "inappropriate" at a very young age.

There can be similarities between boys and girls though. Let me see... they both eat. And sleep. And, um, nope... that's all I've got in the similarities department. I'm sure with some thought I could come up with more, but right now... nope. I got nothin'.

My Saturday

So we spent the day in Chelsea at the football field. And by all day, I mean 8am to 4:30pm... all day. I took all my kids plus Bren and Ellas. It was a long day but not really a bad day. We watched the games and cheered until our heads hurt. We went to Hargis between games and ate a picnic lunch, chased the ducks and hiked to the cross on the hill. It was pretty fun. Except Maggie hurt her toe and Bren was attacked by a mutant hornet. He escaped without being stung, but it was ironic since we were playing the Chelsea HORNETS. Funny.

We drove to Ginger's after Ty's game. The kids swam and we talked. And watched the newest New Moon trailer like three times. It looks so good! I can't wait til November. Ginger and I always have fun together. We laugh like preteens and make stupid, silly jokes. But it's not always silliness. It's so cool to have a friend that really gets you. I'm gonna miss her when she moves.

Gotta got to Springville church now. See ya soon.

Music Flashback, Clean House

I updated my playlist tonight. There's some good 90s music on there now. Verve Pipe, Third Eye Blind, The Wallflowers, Three Doors Down. Good stuff. Not sure why I'm remembering all these bands.

My house was ridiculously dirty tonight. I stayed home while Chris took the boys to football and cleaned. And cleaned. And cleaned. I ran the dishwasher twice and the washing machine once. I vacuumed the floors and the rugs. It felt just lovely to sit in my living room surrounded by... nothing. Ahhh.

Ty is combing my hair. I love it when my kids get the urge to play with my hair. It puts me right to sleep. My eyes are all droopy right now.

I miss blogging. I should do it more. It's very therapeutic.

A Snapshot

A quick snapshot of my life:

I'm sitting in my comfy green chair, cruising the web. Listening to music. Sippin' my coffee.

Ty and Griff are playing tennis on the Wii while Michael and Brody cheer them on. There is much laughing and jumping and screaming and high fiving. I am smiling.

Maggie and Gracie are playing a game on the internet. Laughing at each other. Getting along. I am relieved.

My packing for the beach is almost done. My laundry is done. My supper is laid out. Addison is coming for pot roast. Dane is house/cat/dog-sitting while we are gone. I am happy.

It's funny how different I feel today as opposed to Friday. I want to say that I wish every day was like today... but without the crappy days, I wouldn't really appreciate it. I guess I should just enjoy it. I am grateful.

Struggle

This is a post I wrote quite a while back but never published. Obviously the moment I was having has passed but it's still an honest expression of what was going on in me at the time. Thought I'd share...





Why the disconnect? Do I really give off the vibe of being unhappy and overwhelmed? Is it not okay to express pain in those moments when I do feel that way? Just because I have moments of feeling stressed out does not mean that I feel that way all the time.

I have noticed that when I feel the heaviness and weight of duty there is something askew. Something is out of line. I shouldn't feel burned out. I shouldn't grow weary of doing good. But there are times when it seems that there is no other option but to extend myself to the point of discomfort. That other people just expect more and more of me the more I give. That they give no thought to the fact that I am tired.

Where is that line? And what happens when there is no other person that I can confide in? When I feel absolutely alone in the struggle? What then?

Do I drop everything? Leave people hanging out to dry? Or maybe realize that I have complete freedom to fail. And people will be disappointed in me. And let down by me. And maybe even forced to take some of my responsibilities.

And all the while I recognize that I do all this to myself. I want others to help me, I expect it. But I don't always ask for it. And when I work and work and work and then forget something or don't do it right, it wounds me to have it pointed out. And it makes me angry because the person pointing it out usually is the one that always leaves it up to me to handle things. Tuesday morning quarterback.

Oh, my sinful, pride filled heart. It burns in my chest. It chokes the life out of my relationships. It isolates me and whispers evil in my ear.

The Best Song

Chance Meeting by Act of Congress is my most favorite song ever. It has consistantly been at the top of my list for a year now. It's not that I listen to it repeatedly. It's just that every time I listen to it, it makes me feel... amazed. I love it. If a movie is ever made of my life, I want Chance Meeting playing in the background while they're telling the love story of Chris and me. And if I die I want it playing in the background as people watch a slide show of my life. I love it that much.

If you don't have it, it's on the Declaration CD by Act of Congress. You can order on iTunes.

Let the Dazzling Begin....

What It Takes To Have Flawless, Happy Family Pictures... Like Me

We had our pictures made this morning. And yes, the ridiculously talented Jessica took them. Thanks for asking...

I decided at 9 o'clock last night that we would all wear white shirts. It sounds kind of hokey but nothing else looked right. So the girls and I loaded up and drove over to hell, where it seems that they have all kinds of white shirts on sale for like $5. So I was super happy. And my conscience only convulsed slightly. (I stomped it down.)

When I got home, Chris pointed out that the boys really needed haircuts. I wanted to protest but since it was obvious it was true, I had to nod sadly and then panic about when this was going to take place. It was, after all, 10 pm, Chris was leaving for work and pictures were scheduled for 10 am the next morning. Chris volunteered to do it the next morning. Tragedy averted. Almost.

I forget that Ty has major issues with haircuts. He hates the little hairs that get all over you. He claims that it is unbearably itchy and he breaks into man-sized whines. Seriously. So, Chris cut his hair at 9am and I spent until 10am trying to remove tiny little hairs from his shirt. It was super fun. I tried using tape and even threw it in the drier. I ended up holding the shirt and picking individual hairs out of the fabric. I couldn't bear the torment he was in.

The actual photo shoot was lovely. Aside from the broken glass on the sidewalk... did I mention that we were barefoot? And also aside from the hordes of mosquitos, that is. We sprayed each other with chemicals and even had to rub the bug spray on our faces. The attacks were brutal. My sister-in-law was especially targeted. Bless her heart.

But I'm sure the efforts we made will be worth it. And besides, Jessica is a miracle worker. Oh and my kids are beautiful. We can't forget that. That always bears repeating. I'll post the pics when I get them. Prepare to be dazzled.

A by-product of failing to blog regularly is that people quit checking your blog. *sigh* Oh well. I'm glad this is just for me and the great unknown.

Music, Tears and Eternity

As I mentioned in my previous post, I went to a concert tonight. The guy's name is Sam Bradley. I like his live music better than his recorded. But then again, all he has is myspace music, no cd yet. He's fun to go see because he loves it so much. He's doing exactly what he wants to be doing. I wish I could talk to him about the gospel.

There's another couple of people I've found on myspace. Aoife O'Donovan and Marcus Foster. Love them. Serious awesomeness. Marcus's song Fourteen Times owns me. And Aoife's Burning Heart moves me. Marcus is coming to Nashville in August. I wanna go. Hmmm.

I learned a little more about community tonight. I learned that watching a non-christian experience/observe true community is, um, awkward. There is a flow to true community. There's an intimacy that can only come when the Spirit is testifying, pouring life back and forth. To someone without the Spirit, there's something both uncomfortable and enticing about that. On the one hand, community and relationship are what they are created for and long for. But on the other hand, there is a knowing and a being known that is scary and vulnerable. It's beautiful and ruthless at the same time. It is a love that hangs on and says, "I know you're messed up and you're probably going to hurt me, but I'm just like you and I choose to love you anyway." There is safety in true community because it comes straight from the heart of God.

I am seeing God expand my vision to include eternity. It changes the way I see everything around me. I remember telling G a long time ago that I did not like the thoughts of them leaving to go to Ireland. He just looked at me and said knowingly, "I know. But you will. One day you will." And now I do. I see the future of heaven as a place for all the unhindered fellowship I long for here. And I see the beauty of sacrificing a little bit of that fellowship now, for a time, so that others can hear and have the same kind of redemption and fellowship. It is a very worthy cause.

As I sit here, exhausted, writing my heart, I cry. I cry for the loss I already feel when I think of the Donahoos and Morgans going. I cry for the loss that will come soon when the Springville plant is ready to particularize and we move our activities there. I cry for the beauty of the Spirit in my volitional family that holds me and pours into me. I cry for the lost who are called lost for a reason. I cry for their fears and their lostness. I cry for the blessings of the faces that come into my mind right now. Melissa Mohr. Bekah. Sonja. Jessica. Jawan. Leslie. Laura. Trisha. I see a hundred faces and know that they are known by me and I am known by them.

I cry because I am tired. And the tears are friends, expressions of love and beauty and connectedness. But alas, now I ramble....

Live Your Life

3x5 ... There's a song by John Mayer that talks about putting down your camera and just living your life, experiencing the moment. I watched people at a concert tonight, so concerned with video, taking pics or texting that they ended up not enjoying the moment they were in. There was no leaning back, watching the performance, soaking it in. There was no open eyed amazement at the talent before them. But hey, they got all the youtube footage they can handle. What's wrong with this picture?

This is for my lovely friend Leslie. Go Team Meat!

Need?

What is the difference, or rather, where is the line between need and selfishness? How does one tell which is which?

Some would say that any demand we make on another person is selfishness. Do I really need Chris to help around the house? etc. If I can realistically solve the problem/do the work/fulfill the obligation to ask for help is selfishness.

Others would say that's wrong. God created in us needs and desires. Companionship, understanding, relationship, relaxation, cooperation, etc. We were never meant to be an island. When is it the other person's responsiblity?

I wish I knew. I struggle. How does one express a felt need without it being a demand? How does one not resent the one not meeting the need? Or, for that matter, even seeing the struggle?

And while I am so wrapped up in my own needs/selfishness, what is happening in the world around me? How many people around me feel the same way? About me? Ouch.

England- Part 2

I like lists. I really do. They're so efficient. Say what needs to be said and be done with it. Nothin' wrong with that. So I thought I'd make a list of things I learned/experienced/know about England/English culture.

1. Finding a 'rubbish bin' is quite difficult. Apparently they don't make trash... ever. Good to know.

2. The word 'water' is difficult to say with a different accent. Jeven had trouble saying it with a southern accent and I had trouble with the English accent.

3. The British are not overly fond of food seasonings. Also good to know.

4. I saw a lot of yellow wisteria. Very pretty but makes me think of pollen.

5. No such thing as a yard sale in England. It boggles the mind.

6. Jesus, sin, heaven are all ideas; not unlike zen, purgatory or re-incarnation. There is no absolute reality or truth.

7. It takes a few days to get used to asking people where the "toilets" are.

8. Pepto Bismal is treated almost like a controlled substance there. You must be interrogated by the pharmacist before purchasing. Don't ask me how I know this.

9. When they say 'folk music' it means something completely different than what we think of. Especially if it's of the German persuasion which has lots of yodeling. Hmmm.

10. No electricity is allowed in bathrooms. No switches or outlets at all. The light switch is outside the door. Cobi and I immediately thought of the prank potential of this situation.

11. The British should not be allowed to name their own products. Case in point: Spotted dick, toad-in-the-hole, Minstrels, Horlick malt, mushy peas, Digestives cookies, pasty (pronounced past - ee : a sort of pot pie but in fried pie form), and wine gums.

12. When they say "pie" they don't usually mean what you think they mean... think "meat".

13. Ask your host to be more specific if he asks you "Do you want a lemonade?" You could end up with a Sprite-ish, slightly shampoo-y tasting fizzy drink - not at all like Chick-Fil-A.

14. English money is very easy to use. They just have lots more coins than we do; a total of 8, I believe: 1pence, 2 pence,5,10,20,50 pence,1 pound, and 2 pound. Your pockets get heavy sometimes.

15. The English take the age of their country for granted. Eating in a pub that was built in 1561 is completely normal and old hat to them. Not unlike the way we, as Americans, take the size of our country for granted. To drive from Scotland to London is an 8 hour drive: that's like from Nashville to Mobile. America is really big!

I've learned much more than that but I think that's all for tonight. My eyes are starting to cross I'm so tired. G'Nite.

England - Part 1

Well we're in England now. Got in around 3am-ish Alabama time. It's now 5:30 here. I have two and a half more hours before I can go to bed. That will put me at being awake for around ... um... having trouble with the math... 28 hours? or is it 30? A long time. How bout that?

The flight over was uneventful. I got to sit behind Cobi and talk and laugh. That was fun. The movie system was nice. I watched two episodes of 30 rock, two episodes of The Big Bang Theory, and something else. Can't remember. I listened to non-stop Coldplay while I tried to nap. That was nice. The food was okay. Breakfast was a bit scary... I'm not partial to fuzzy grapes. Call me crazy.

Customs was a bit terrifying; as was the drive to the Kunar's. Otto is a lovely man who used to drive motorbikes for a living. (I don't know what that means) And he drove thru the traffic circles like he was on a motorbike. I held on tight. He told me that God is ultimately in control, right? I asked if we could make the drive a non-faith building exercise. He was very funny.

Once at the Kunar's I did my usual exploring. Their home is very nice. I refrained from looking in any closets, drawers or cabinets. I'm very proud of myself. They have the same tendency as Kim to hang their pictures really high up on the walls. Interesting.

Now we (me, Chris, Chris Barnett and Bill Knapp) are at our host home. The couple is out of the country so we have the run of the place. It's beautiful. The oven took a minute to decipher. There are no closets; only hanging racks of clothes in every room and the hallways. The fridge is tiny. But the views are wonderful. It's like being in a movie.

I can't wait to get some sleep and get going tomorrow. We'll go to the Culcheth church tomorrow morning and then eat lunch with them. We'll go to the Warrington plant tomorrow night. And we get our agenda tomorrow too.

I think I'll walk down to the corner market now, stay awake a little longer. And take some pictures of Gracie's bulldog toy in front of scenery; she'll like that. I'm praying for my family right now. They're at Chris' aunt's funeral. For those who don't know: Chris' aunt committed suicide last Tuesday. It's one of the most tragic things I've ever been a part of. I pray for comfort, peace and rest for the whole family.

I'll try to blog again sometime this week. Bye!

I'm wondering if Brody is going to be covered in temporary tattoos by the time I get home. His new hero is Dave. No pressure Dave, but your 17 tattoos are fascinating. Brody has lots of new ideas for where he wants to put them. Until Dave, he had no idea that tattoos could be in other places besides your bicep. Now he wants them all over. I don't mind. Between the mohawk and the soccer shirts and tattoos, he looks like a disgruntled European. At least that's what Quinn says.

In my mind, when I get home, the kids school work will be completed and their chores will be done. That's in my mind of course. I like living in my mind. Everything's so nice and tidy. I can sing and dance beautifully. I look like I did in high school. My kids enjoy doing laundry. Fleas don't exist. It's utopia really. But then I open my eyes and my utopia bubble bursts. *sigh* I'm closing my eyes again.

I'm disgusted by my hall bathroom. It needs a complete makeover. New paint. New shower curtain. New vanity. New art. And once it's done the kids have to use the spicket outside for washing and brushing their teeth. And they can pee in the woods. Whatevah.

Well thats all. Gotta go now!

Disjointed and Slow

So here I am, sitting in my bed at midnight. I'm very sleepy. But go to sleep? Nah. Not right now.

So much has happened in the past month. I'm not really sure why I haven't blogged. Every time I've thought about it, I just didn't. I'm contrary, I suppose.

Maggie had a birthday. She's now a teenager. My mother's birthday passed with minimal breakdowns. Our dog died. My birthday was yesterday. I am now thirty-six. That feels old right now. Chris is working a lot. We're getting ready to go to England for a week and a half.

My mind is full. Lots of stuff happening up there. But the thinking, meditating, contemplative aspect of my brain is moving very slowly. Maybe I have a virus, like a computer. Or maybe it's sin.

I have been struggling with sin lately. Well, you know what I mean. I struggle all the time. But sometimes there seem to be sins or a sin that wraps itself around my brain stem and refuse to die. And in those times, I find myself closing off to the people around me. I become self-protective. And contrary. And shallow.

I remember my mother talking a lot when she was around my age about being afraid of success. Afraid of failure but also afraid of success. I thought it was weird. What I find scary now are the times I find myself living out things I remember her saying or doing. She is the specter that hovers over my existence. Her memory is one of the things that entangle me. And I am powerless to forget her and her impact on making me who I am. I can't fight that. It's like beating the air.

I have had two panic attacks in the past three months. Trace calls these my Jerry's Kids moments. And although I laugh and recognize his humor and sympathy, it scares the sh-t out of me. It is something I have no control over and it's frustrating and embarrassing and ridiculous. I would rather pretend like they never happen. I'm ready for heaven or healing, whichever comes first.

There are so many things that happen in my life that no one knows anything about. Random thoughts or suppressed fears. Tiny victories and kept secrets. I feel useless most of the time but this feeling is tempered with the knowledge that God does use me, in spite of myself. I want to be used. I want to be free from sins and fears and pride. I want to be wide open to others. I...

Where is this post going? No where. Why am I even posting this? I have no idea.

Our Baby Kitties

Our little bitty kittens are super cute. I'm serious. I've tried to be hard-hearted about them. I've tried to not be delighted with them. Really, I have. But it's just not possible. At all.

There are five of them and of course Ty picked the cutest one. But I worry about him; he's so tiny and pitiful looking. We're praying he doesn't die. Ty's named him Tiny Titan, in the hopes, I suppose, that he'll be inspired to live up to his name.

I watched my kids take care of them today. I bathed them for the first time... the kittens that is. As I finished bathing each one, I'd hand it off to a child. It was so sweet to watch my kids dry their kitten and talk to it, trying to soothe it. And then each one of us was holding a towel-wrapped kitten, cuddling and humming to try to recreate a purring sound. (We read that the Momma's purring is soothing) It worked and the kitties calmed right down and went to sleep. I looked up and there were all my kids, rocking and swaying and humming. It about broke my heart it was so sweet. When it was time to put them back in their temporary home in the bathtub, I led the procession down the hallway. We looked like monks, all in a row, humming and shuffling our feet. It made me smile.

Just thought I'd share. Today will be a good memory.

I ask myself if it was a good idea to let both my boys get mohawks five days before Easter. Maybe not. But then again, it's just hair. Who cares? I don't care that much. And they do look so cool. And they're both really happy. I mean really, really happy. And giggling. So I will just let go any happy thoughts I may have had of looking like the sweet, pretty family for Easter Sunday. People will instead see a hip, cool, unapologetically punk, happy family. Oh well. Who cares what people think? Not me... yeah, right.

Baby Steps

I love this part of What About Bob. I quote it a lot. Especially the end: Gimme! Gimme! I need! I need!
Makes me laugh every time.

I need... I need...

I need to load my dishwasher.
I need to put on socks cause my feet are freezin'.
I need to make the kids pack for overnight.
I need to buy/make a birthday card for Chris' grandmother that we stay with every week; she'll be 95 tomorrow.
I need to figure out what I'm gonna feed my family tonight.
I need to take a nap since my medicine kept me up last night.
I need to turn up my music. (JT)
I need something to drink. I'm thirsty.
I need to organize my entire life.
I need to review my lesson for tonight.
I need to stop typing and pick one thing from this list.

Or I could check my email. Yeah, I'll do that.

Gorham's Bluff

My lovely husband commissioned me to plan a getaway for us. It's been a couple of years since we went away just the two of us. Missy told me about a place in NE Alabama called Gorham's Bluff. We went. It was amazing. Completely and totally amazing. Everything about the place is aesthetically pleasing and luxurious. The views, the homes, the quietness, the decor of our house. Even the weather was perfect: it rained the second day. So we stayed in, listening to the rain, reading, watching movies. It was soothing and perfect. I'm so glad we went. You should go. Seriously.

The van is clean. For now. I'm sure it'll start getting nasty very soon. Then I will wait a disgusting amount of time and clean it out again. But the point of this post is to assure you that I am not dead, killed by the horror that was the interior of my van. Thank you for asking.

Mundane Update

Okay. So I'm just going to sit down and blog. I have nothing earth shattering to say. I don't even have anything boring to say. But I'll blog anyway. Aren't you glad?

I am now on my third round of antibiotics. My pneumonia has been downgraded to mild bronchitis. And I feel better. I feel good even. Then I cough up a chunk of God only knows what and reluctantly continue taking my medicine.

Ty threw up last night. Fun. He feels great today. It's the first time he's thrown up since he was three years old. The good thing about having sick, older children is that they throw up in the toilet. It's so much easier to clean up... *flush*. Done.

Kittie still has not had kittens. But she's eating like a horse. Maybe she's in the process of evolving into one. Ha.

I have a new home phone number. If you know me, call my cell or email me to get it. I shall not post it for the world to see. Although there are many celebrities who want it I'm sure. I'm famous like that.

Anybody need a place to live with cheap rent? Let me know.

Beautiful day today! I'm going to go detail the van now. That should take me at least 82 hours. If I don't make it out alive, know that I loved you all.

I just love the looks I get when I cough. People smile when I walk in, "Hi!" -happy to see me. Then I cough and suddenly the looks turn into genuine alarm. They clutch their children closer, tryin to be inconspicuous. But I see their hands twitching, wanting to cover their mouths and noses to protect themselves. They try to cover their horror with concern, "Goodness! Are you okay?" Like I don't know they want to run.

So if you hear me cough, I am not contagious. I am not an eighty year old emphysema patient. I have been on antibiotics for days. And believe it or not, I sound better. Don't run away. Be my friend.

Some Days

Some days I have the heart of an adventurer: courageous, curious, inspired, ready for anything. Other days, I have the heart of a mouse: hiding in a hole, starting at even the slightest noise.

Some days, it is easy to be thrilled over my friends leaving me, going out into the world to share the gospel. Other days, I want to sabotage them, make them stay here so that nothing will change.

Some days, I am ecstatic over the success of the gospel. Other days, I resent it and the sacrifice it demands.

Some days, I am desperate to be free from my sin. Other days, I cling to it like a toddler to its pacifier.

Some days, Christ is all I see. Other days, no matter how hard I look, he is lost in the fog of my own self-deception.

I watched Adam in concert tonight. To me, it was bittersweet. I am in awe of God's gifting to him, and I want more than anything else for everyone in the world to hear what I hear. And yet, I know that will require from him what it requires from us all: sacrifice.

For every step we make toward the gospel is a step away from the comfort of our flesh. Success in one area means deprivation in another. Every church that promises support to the Morgans expidites their leaving their church family. It is counterintuitive to desire a friend's leaving. But they must leave. It is the plan of the Father.

So I look into my own life. Amber is moving to the next town. Ginger and Laura are moving to the next continent. Who knows where Adam and Jessica will end up. I am moving to the new church location.

The only way these things are good is for them to be for the benefit of the gospel of Christ. Everything else passes away. Everything else is vanity. My moods shift. My courage fails. My spiritual eyes open and close. But eternity is ... well.. eternity. And only those things done for the kingdom and Christ will last.

My eyes cannot see it here, now, but I know that it is true. And when I can see that, my courage is replaced with the surety of the gospel. My heart takes a deep cleansing breath, and I rest.

Sleep is Over-Rated

Yes, it is 4 am. I know. And unlike my dear, lovely friend KimHill, I am not getting up early. I just haven't gone to bed yet.

It was one of those very rare nights when you stay up ridiculously late talking to your best friend. I am too old to have these kinds of nights on any kind of regular basis, but on the rare occasion that they happen, they are heavenly. Amber has just walked home and here I am, bleary-eyed, telling whoever is reading that I had a good night. A night where the words just kept coming, meaning and truth flowing freely. It was wonderful.

Oh, and by the by, please don't call me before 10am. I'll be sleeping. ;o)

A Song and A Smile

I was sitting at my table just now, reading, praying and resting. Trying to take time to focus on Christ, letting go of my focus on myself, my sin, my failures. And started to actually hear the words of the song that was playing at the time.

"You don't know how lovely you are.
I had to find you, tell you I need you.
Tell you I set you apart.
Tell me your secrets and ask me your questions,
let's go back to the start."

I smiled. God thinks I am lovely. He found me, chose me, set me apart. I have nothing to hide from him. *sigh*

Him? Him.

I don't have much to say. I haven't for a while now... Sometimes I wonder why I blog. I never really answer myself, I just wonder. I really enjoy blogging when I actually have something to say. Otherwise, I feel like the blog mocks me. Mocks my dryness, my hypocrisy, my inability to formulate thoughts.

Last Sunday night, instead of having a session meeting, the elders and deacons and their wives met with Johnny and Becky Long. Any time I have the chance to be around them I jump at it. They're so honest and open about their sins and struggles. It reminds me to repent. I fight repentance. Not sure why. But I do.

The last couple of months have been dry. Really dry. Feeling disconnected, condemned, tired, worried, distracted. Running after what I don't really want and ignoring what I desire the most. All that with a touch of depression thrown in. Plus the ever present fear that I will one day turn into my mother.

I can theorize. I'm doing too much; I'm just tired. I'm worried about life changes; things are really starting to happen. Money is tighter than usual. I could go on, but why?

I really have a problem with unbelief. And pride. And all the things that lead down to those roots. If God gives me a job, just do it. If I have sin, repent. Why do I fight trusting Him? And still... all these stupid, stupid words and Johnny Long's voice reminding me that maybe all I need is to remember God's deep, adoring love for me, his precious daughter. Not look at my failures but at Christ. Just sit and gaze upon His beauty. Remembering Him, not myself.

Nothing else really matters. Nothing. All these things will be added to me. Seek first His face. It's not about my relationship with Him or the work I do for His kingdom or my striving to not sin; it's just Him. Him alone. Just Christ. His face, his beauty, his love, his death, his righteousness. Him.

I didn't fall. I'm so happy. I skiied for two solid days and never fell once. I made my last run down the slopes repeating the mantra, "Don't fall, last run. Don't fall, last run." And as I walked to the parking lot, carrying my skis and poles, "Don't fall now. You made it all day. Don't fall now." And as I changed out of my ski boots into my snow boots, "No falling. No. Falling. No."

And I managed to go three days on snow and ice and didn't trip or fall. I don't usually fall when I ski but this year I felt vulnerable for some reason. I don't like to fall. Well, the falling itself isn't so bad, it's the landing that hurts. And when I get hurt, I always cry. Always. It's embarrassing.

Now here I am, at Patrick and Meghan's, looking around at all their pretty things and thinking, "Don't break anything. Don't knock anything off or swing your arms or miss the countertop when putting your glass down. Don't break anything."

I'm realizing as I'm typing that I've been in self-preservation mode for days now. I don't want to get hurt or be embarrassed or look like a spaz. I want to look good and together, even when I know I don't measure up.

Where has the gospel been today? Hiding under the Pottery Barn sheets, I guess. I am consumed with myself. My righteousness takes a hard hit when faced with my own inadequecies. And my inadequecies pop up at random times.

But I am reminded of what my heart seeks. Affirmation. Approval. To be someone's delight. And I am all those things. The only one who matters in the universe, delights in me. Is that enough? Today, I choose to believe it is even if I don't feel it.

Rambling Update

Okay. I'm so tired that my eyes are burning but I'm waiting for that dang dryer to be done. So, I thought I'd blog. Haven't done that in a while. Here's to you Elizabeth.

We woke up early this morning, ate breakfast and headed out. After stopping at Alpine to rent skis for Ty, Chris and I, we went on up to the slopes and checked the kids into ski school. Brody and Grace are still learning to ski. Maggie is a lovely, graceful skier but today she went to school to learn to snowboard. And now she can. She can go all the way to the top and come down on her board without falling. It was impressive. She doesn't get that from me, of that I am sure.

Around lunch time, it started to rain. Stupid rain. But then the rain turned to snow. Wonderful snow. But then it all stopped. And got really cold. And by then, it was afternoon and we were done for the day. So we went back to the resort. (Yes, I said resort. Our realty company found a vacancy in a nearby resort for only $10 more a night. I'll take it and thank you.)

So, we dry out and warm up. Watch some cable, a treat for us. Then Brody and I went to Fred's and bought some groceries. And petted a cat. He liked that... Brody that is, although, I'm sure the cat liked it too. Sorry, rambling. Anyhoo... We ate supper and then went swimming.

The resort has an indoor heated pool and a hot tub. Wonderful, right? Why, yes. It was. The hot tub was really hot and the pool was nice and warm. We had a blast. The only problem is, the pool is in a different building, it's own building. Which means that you have to go outside to get to it... or away from it. That was fun. We dried off really well, put our sweatshirts and snowboots on and then made a run for it. In the wind and snow. Brrrrr! We were laughing our rear ends off.

Once we were in the room, we wound down and... well... here I am. Everyone else is sleeping. And I am watching television and drinking a glass of milk and waiting on the dryer so I can finish packing. We leave right after the slopes close at 4:30 headed to Patrick's.

Things I enjoyed today:

1. Watching Maggie snowboard. I'm so glad she's not a spaz like her Momma.

2. Hot chocolate. Need I say more?

3. Skiing. I didn't fall. That makes me happy.

4. Skiing with Ty. Well, more like watching Ty ski past me, but it was still fun.

5. Staring at my husband in his ski gear, skiing like a pro. Hmmm. Yummy.

6. Spending time with Brody at Fred's.

7. Talking to Gracie about her day.

8. A glass of wine. White Zinfandel.

9. Not having to wait in line at all.

10. The fact that there were only 2 other kids in ski school today and they were with another instructor. That means my kids got private lessons. HaHa!

11. Watching it snow.

12. Music on my mp3 player. Namely Coldplay.

That's all. I seriously doubt that this post is coherent. Sorry. Oh! The dryer dinged. Hurray! Talk to you later.

Giving and Receiving

I love the way my children and their friends love to give one another gifts. And they don't care one little bit if the gifts are new. They love getting used stuff just as much.

I think they like the used stuff better because they know it was a prized possession at one time. So tonight, Lana gave Frankie one of her green sweatbands and a piece of Halloween candy. And it was considered a good gift because she really liked those sweatbands. Everyone was impressed. One of my girls' received a used necklace once and l-o-v-e-d it .

I can't pinpoint the exact reason this makes me so happy. It might have something to do with lack of materialism or some such as that. But it does make me happy.

Fun Pics of Friends

I saw Scott Holmes on the way home from church today. Looks like he did well on his hunting trip. Way to go Scott!

Beauty

I found this yesterday when I was doing some reading on Chopin. I think it is exquisite. At little background first: Frederic Chopin had a long time lover who, although a Baroness, went by the pseudonym of George Sand. George once described an evening with Chopin with their friend Delacroix in attendance:

"Chopin is at the piano, quite oblivious of the fact that anyone is listening. He embarks on a sort of casual improvisation, then stops. 'Go on, go on,' exclaims Delacroix, 'That's not the end!'

'It's not even a beginning. Nothing will come ... nothing but reflections, shadows, shapes that won't stay fixed. I'm trying to find the right colour, but I can't even get the form ...'

'You won't find the one without the other,' says Delacroix, 'and both will come together.'

'What if I find nothing but moonlight?'

'Then you will have found the reflection of a reflection.'

The idea seems to please the divine artist. He begins again, without seeming to, so uncertain is the shape. Gradually quiet colours begin to show, corresponding to the suave modulations sounding in our ears. Suddenly the note of blue sings out, and the night is all around us, azure and transparent. Light clouds take on fantastic shapes and fill the sky. They gather about the moon which casts upon them great opalescent discs, and wakes the sleeping colours. We dream of a summer night, and sit there waiting for the song of the nightingale ..."

Chopin

I love Chopin. He's my favorite. I lie here in my comfy bed, headphones on, dreaming of cloudy nights and swirling mists. He makes me feel; his emotion coming through in every note. Whispering now, coaxing, smiling, weeping.

Making me wish I could play the piano.

One of My Favorite Pictures

I love this picture of Chris and Quinn. This was taken last summer in Mississippi when we went to the reservoir for the day. Lots of good memories: disc golf, floppy hats, water stunts, country music, potty training. Just to name a few.

Definition of irony:
incongruity in a situation
or
when your father-in-law brings a deer carcass by on his way to the butcher at the same time that your only vegan friend is at your house. Hmmmm.

Favorite Failboat

Failboat