Expressions of Love

My heart is very full tonight. It's not that I've had a terrific, fun-filled day. I've been busy and checking things off my to do list. But I have felt the love of my Father today...

1. in Coldplay's new album that came out today.

2. in getting to know some really cool kids at CORE and enjoying their company. Geeks are awesome.

3. in my kids' faces and laughter.

4. through Amber, who took my kids to the movies to see Real Steel so I could get all my errands run.

5. through Missy and Kim (sis), who rode with me and gave me the gift of conversation and laughter.

6. through the girl who helped me pick out and put on my phone case at the TMobile store. She kept me laughing and served me well.

7. through Michelle Davis who "shopped" with me at Target while we talked on the phone.

8. through Poe on the Porch at KimHill's.

9. through Cobi who is one of the most interesting people that I know and makes me more interesting than I already am. ;o)

10. through watching the sweet babies play in the yard at Kim's.

11. through the hot cocoa placed in my hand while I hung out.

12. through seeing my youngest be brought to tears because a song had moved him so much.

13. Did I mention Coldplay has a new album...

14. through Tiffany making sure she could hug me and give me a proper good-bye before I left for England.

15. through coming home and seeing all our bags packed in the living room.

16. through my brother-in-law and Dad reassuring me that the squealing of my van was not "critical" and they would fix it.

17. through sitting in the van with Brody and listening to a song, full blast, twice before we came in the house.

18. through my neighbor Dave who, I know, would protect my family with his life and puts up with my dog and kids like it's no big deal.

19. through the volitional family that put their arms around me and mine and LOVES us.

20. through looking at my passport and knowing how HE has provided a way and a ministry for my family.

21. through knowing that in 85 hours I can hug my friend Ginger breathless and live her life with her for a while.

22. through the anticipation of building up already formed friendships in England and making more.

23. through knowing Christ and Him crucified.

I have been busy. I have been rushed. I have been relaxed. I have been lots of things today. Most of all, I have been loved. And I am grateful and my heart overflows.

October 19th

I got all of our suitcases out of the attic and the closet. I measured and placed them in two categories: checked and carry-on. We have 5 checked and 3 carry-on. Then we carried them out to the van and they will ALL fit in the trunk. Now to figure out what to put in them...

Ginger just called me. We talked for an hour and a half. Everything from budget to travel plans to menu. I think the details are mostly ironed out. I've talked to my cell carrier and know how to get a new sim card when we get there. I talked to the bank and they know we're travelling. There are still things I have to do, but the list is not too overwhelming.

It's finally sinking in that we're going to England. I've been planning and praying and it's almost here. I've been in touch with Sue and Shirley and we have play dates planned. We'll be eating with Bruce and Bea while there. I know that none of you friends reading this post know who they are but, oh, how I wish you did. And you will one day in heaven. They are such lovely people. I know you would love them too.

I'm going to be teaching while there. God keeps bringing me back to 1 Corinthians 2:2-5. I know nothing but Jesus Christ and him crucified. And that definitely leads me to a place of fear and great trembling, but I know that I have nothing to offer these wonderful women from another culture. The Holy Spirit, however, has so much to offer them and if he can use me, even a little bit that is a privilege.

So today, we are doubling up on schoolwork, adding things to the To Do list, cleaning, packing and trying not to let myself get overwhelmed.

One of my children, who will remain nameless, has zero coping skills today. Lots of whining, screaming and meltdowns. It's pushing my nerves to the breaking point. I am struggling with the reality of grace for this child. I have too much to do to deal with this issue... oh wait, no I don't. They need me more than my lists need me. Dang. I forgot again.

There is no real point to this post. I have no moral or lesson. Nothing profound or funny. In fact, I'm second guessing why I'm even writing this...

Wondering....

I am wondering what God has planned for me. I'm not down or depressed or even unsettled. It's just... well, I'm having a moment of peace with the fact that I have no idea what God will do. Gone are the days of assuming I know what is best for me and my family. Gone are the days of pleading with God to keep my children close.

I wonder where we will be in ten years. What we will be doing in five. I wonder what my kids will do when they grow up. I wonder if I'm preparing them.

I feel a flutter of excitement in the pit of my belly. I take a deep breath when I think about the times coming that will not be easy. I know God is sufficient. He is real. And his path for us is already laid out. I wonder what it looks like...

How Did I End Up Here?

I am currently sitting in my comfy green chair, watching my four children do their school.

First, how in the world did I end up being the mother of four children?

Second, how did I become this mother who patiently (mostly) schools her kids at home?

I am blown away. Ty and Brody are at the dining room table doing English assignments. Mags and Grace are sitting on the couch, one doing English, the other math. The house is quiet and still. They are content to do their work... at the moment. All I hear is the gentle scratching of their pencils and the tapping of Maggie's laptop.

I never, ever, thought that I would homeschool. I remember thinking that all those homeschoolers were a little bit crazy. And then God ushered me into it. I remember being overwhelmed with the choices in curriculum and teaching styles, thinking that the entire world hinged on my decision. I remember being stressed out and euphoric, by turns. I remember when Maggie and Ty learned to read and realizing that I did that... that was me teaching them.

And here it is... 10 years later. Ten years. Wow. I have two children in high school, for pete's sake. My days are now mostly quiet affairs. We start early with Bible immediately after breakfast. Then spelling, reading, math, science, history, english, electives... We move from one subject to another, no yelling. No screaming. Minimal complaints. How in the world does that happen?

God moves me into places that I never knew or wanted to go. He shows me mercy and grace when I have no idea that I need it. Now, I can't imagine not being with my kids all day, every day. Something that used to overwhelm me, is my new normal. All I can do is enjoy it. Who knows how long it will last? Sure, I would love to teach them until they graduate, but I don't know what my future holds. Only God knows all that.

I watch them as they search for knowledge. I watch them, right now, as they furrow their brows in concentration and lean over their books. I watch them nod to themselves when they finally understand. And I ask God to teach them, hold them, grow them. I ask God to bless the efforts we all put into this. I ask Him to call each of my children into the path He has already established for them. Maybe one day they, too, will ask, "How did I end up here?"

That makes me smile.

Fear and Enjoyment

How do I teach my children to face their fears? How do I help them understand that we should never make a decision based completely on fear?

I guess, maybe, I push them to jump in the deep end, go to the class, attempt the sport, etc until they see one of two things. They either see that a.) it wasn't so bad and there was nothing to be afraid of in the first place or b.) they failed and survived it and even learned from it... failure wasn't the end of the world.

And if they fail, I am there with the gospel to remind them who they actually are... they are loved by their Creator and that is all they really need. And when they succeed, I am there with the gospel too.

But in all of it, I remind them to enjoy it. Enjoy it. Jump in, tackle, pirouette, write, learn... whatever... and enjoy it. Enjoyment glorifies God if we remember Him in the midst of it. He is there in the midst of that fear and He is all that truly matters.

Is that too big to pass on to someone who still depends on me for clean underwear?

A sure sign that I have forgotten the gospel is when I've forgotten how to enjoy God in the simple things.

Do Not Entrust Yourself To Them

John 2:23-25

23Now when he was in Jerusalem at the Passover Feast, many believed in his name when they saw the signs that he was doing. 24But Jesus on his part did not entrust himself to them, because he knew all people 25and needed no one to bear witness about man, for he himself knew what was in man.

Uselessness and Glory

In my last post, I was mulling over the brokenness that comes from God stripping away all that is not his. Since that post, I've been pondering the meaning of useful/useless and also the meaning of blessings. Here are new thoughts:

I found a song by Frou Frou called "Let Go" that I am currently listening to somewhat obsessively. If you doubt, ask my family. The chorus says:

Let go.
Let go.
Jump in.
Well, whatcha waiting for?
It's alright,
'cause there's beauty in the breakdown.
Let go.
Let go.
Just get in.
It's so amazing here.
It's alright,
'cause there's beauty in the breakdown.

It then mentions how everything else is just a sideshow and there is boundless pleasure to be found. I have no idea what Imogen Heap was thinking when she wrote it but it made me cry when I first heard it. I have fought true brokenness for a long time and here was God reminding me through this song that there is such beauty in brokenness. It doesn't feel beautiful, but it is.

Which leads me to the subject of usefulness vs. uselessness...

I have felt utterly spent and useless for months. I labor, toil, work... all for the zeal of the Lord... and nothing happens. I don't think it was wrong for me to get tired. But I do think the exhaustion caused me to forget some things... Today's devotion from My Utmost For His Highest said this:

"[We] notice God's unutterable waste of saints, according to the judgment of the world. God plants his saints in the most useless places. We say - God intends me to be here because I am so useful. Jesus never estimated His life along the line of the greatest use. God puts His saints where they will glorify Him, and we are no judge at all of where that is."

Can I just say??? Ouch. I have always said that I want to be "used by God". And when I know that I am useless then that must be wrong and bad. Right? But what is my chief end? To be useful, or to glorify Him? It is not my decision to determine my usefulness. It is only for me to obey.

The devotional above was on the subject of suffering in 1 Peter 4:19. He says, "To choose to suffer means that there is something wrong; to choose God's will even if it means suffering is a very different thing." I think it is a kind of suffering to put your own desires and dreams to death. And that suffering leads to brokenness. And that brokenness is beautiful. And God is still God. And he still loves me.

Selah.

So where does that leave me? In the same place. Only now, I realize that I don't know what my future holds. And I'm okay with that. And I realize that I cannot contribute one thing to God's work. But He uses me anyway, for His own glory. I can do His bidding, show His love, rest in His peace, all without thought to my own life.

And I know some may read this and think "Of course we don't know the future!" But I think we still maintain this small nugget of our past dreams for our future. (Read THAT sentence ten more times! Geez.) I mean... We all have some residual, lingering dreams from our childhood. Marriage, minivans, children's graduations, retirement. We think we know the general direction of our lives. We make plans for after our kids are grown. We determine where we are most useful. That's the kind of thing I'm talking about...

Now, I pray for the grace to remember it...

Myopic Faith

I'm trying to determine how much to tell, how much to expose. I don't want to give too much.



In my childhood, my life had periods of uncertainty. It also had periods of deep chaos and pain. I never gave much thought to my future. It wasn't a conscious choice; I just didn't. God seemed close to me then. Even though my idea of who he was lacked truth and substance. I thought of him as someone who loved me but who was disappointed and annoyed with me most of the time. I carried a burden with me always.


God showed me his glory in the form of the gospel when I was in my early twenties. I vividly remember the freedom that came when I was told that God is not disappointed with me. He doesn't cry a sad tear when I am selfish. He doesn't roll his eyes at me when I sin or act foolish. He, because of Christ's atoning work on the cross, is enamored with me. He delights in me. My spiritual shoulders sagged with relief when that burden was lifted.

It was then that I began to have hope. I began to think of the future; make plans. I wanted to tell others this grace, this relief. I began to see the burden in the lives around me and looked for every opportunity to tell them. I wanted to serve God.


And serve him, I did. He called me to teach women's classes; something I had NO interest in doing. No way. He called me to help in women's ministy. It was wonderful. He then called me to be the head of women's minstry. That too was a delight. I had a clear vision and a mission/purpose statement written out to keep me from trying to take over. That is my inclination after all. Then God called Chris to seminary and us to church planting. I was amazed that God could use either one of us. It seemed blissfully amazing.


Somewhere along the way, as the British say, it all went pear shaped. The wheels of my faith began to wobble. Without even realizing I was doing it, I compensated for the wobble with hard work and a good attitude. But little did I know that something was wrong. I couldn't feel it yet; wasn't aware of the impending consequences.


Just as the human body can take abuse for so long, so can the spiritual man. It can run on memories and past experiences for a while. But as I tried harder, my joy was quietly seeping out of me a slow enough rate that I didn't notice it until it was completely depleted. And I was depressed.


My plans do not work. No matter how good they are, how easy they are, how well thought out. If God is not in them, if he is not blessing them, they will fail. And fail they do.


I've come to realize that my hope has been in the future God planned, not in God Himself. So he took away that hope. Smashed it to pieces. Now, when I think of the future, I see nothing but cloudy, murky nothingness. It exhausts me to contemplate it.


My faith is now myopic. I can see God and nothing else. He is nose-to-nose with me; His breath on my face. If I try to look around him, despair overtakes me and I feel fear. But as long as I am looking at Him, contemplating Him, breathing Him in, then I am okay.

There's a Mo Leverett song that I love. I think it's the modern day equivalent of It Is Well With My Soul. It's title is It's Alright. When everything falls apart, when my hope in me is shaken, when I feel like a failure... it's alright. "If God is for us, who can be against us? If God is with us, then we are not alone."

It's Alright. Myopic Faith ain't all that bad...

Slippery Hamster Wheel

There is so much in my head right now. It's like there is a hamster wheel in there and all my thoughts and hopes and concerns and worries have piled on and are running as fast as they can. I hear the squeaking. Maybe I should make a list...

1. I have no idea how to parent teenagers. Their decisions making abilities are sub par, to say the least, and yet the decisions they are faced with can have huge repercussions. Do I give them lots of freedom? What if they make a huge mistake? They're too young to have that kind of responsibility right now. They're not 17 or 18. But what if I limit them too much and they end up stunted and socially retarded? What if, by not letting them make mistakes, they never learn from them and make worse mistakes when they're grown? But making mistakes is an important learning tool. But drugs and stuff like that can ruin your entire life... See the hamster wheel?

2. Money. DO NOT get me started. If I have it, I want to relax and not be vigilant about how it is spent. I want to feel some freedom or "breathing room". But then I spend too much and feel really guilty about it. If I don't have any money, then I think of all the ways that I've wasted it in the past or spend too much time thinking of ways to save and/or make some. But then I remember that God always provides our needs and try to trust God. But then I think about natural consequences and how, if you are wasteful you can't just pray and ask God to hand you a vacation. You need to save for it, right? But I see God blessing other people with things that they have not scrimped and saved for and I get confused. Hamster wheel.

3. Missions trip. Our support is not coming in very well. We only have maybe half. But I know that God calls us to missions. But not all people are called to all missions. So am I not supposed to go or am I supposed to get more creative about fundraising? Or am I supposed to wait until the rates go down and our support will cover it? Hamster wheel. *sung in a sing-song voice*

4. Church planting.
5. Homeschooling.
6. Exercise.
7. Personal conflict with people who have not loved me well.
8. Travel in general.
9. Etc. etc. etc.

I feel like a baby Christian trying to figure things out. It all seems so confusing to me right now and I feel like the people who could help me figure things out aren't all that interested. Which leads me to another thing I've noticed...

I've forgotten how to be transparent. Somewhere along the way I've become solid and maybe a little stoic. I've sucked it up and kept working, trying to be obedient. But the harder it gets, the harder I try and the more I try to convince myself that everything's ok. The more I try to convince myself, the less open I am with the people around me. And I lose my ability to be open about my life.

I hate that. I hate that I started projecting competency. I hate that the more I projected it, the less I felt it until I ended up in a place of deep disconnection and aloneness.

Somehow, I lost my way. Somehow, the slippery soap of the gospel squirted right out of my hand and it took me a long time to notice that it was gone...

Love

It is a beautiful thing to love someone well. To love them fiercely is even better. I don't think that scripture calls us to love everyone ferociously. It would be too exhausting and consuming. And really, I think it would be unnecessary. If you are loved by one person with a depth and openness that goes to the very marrow of your bones, you're blessed.

I don't think everyone has the ability to love this way. At least that's what I hear. But for those of us who do, we must guard our hearts. To love someone this way, to always be for them and never against them, to protect them and open your heart to pour yourself out for them, leaves you open to the deepest kind of heartbreak.

I think mothers love their children this way. I think husbands love their wives this way, and vice versa. I think it is not felt always or even consistently practiced, but when it is poured out? It's a fire that soothes as well as challenges. It brings one spirit in contact with another spirit in a way that allows for the Holy Spirit to pour back and forth between them.

This kind of love isn't sexual or shallow or friendly. It is deep. Bone deep. And it is more powerful than anything we have the privilege to experience on this earth. It can give someone the strength to continue on through unspeakable pain. It can give someone the courage to confess sins too deep to utter lightly. It can open someone's heart and lift them up above their temporal circumstances and look into a reality much higher.

It is breathtaking in its total lack of self-concern. It is the way the Father loves his children. We are not strong enough to understand, to truly grasp, the breadth and length and height and depth. It surpasses our understanding.

But there are moments, those short yet giant moments, when we are able to love someone else this way. We cannot sustain it. Not like God. But there are those times when we open ourselves wide and pour love into someone's heart and they feel it and they know it and they are lifted up.

Catalog Living

Elaine finds it hard to get to sleep at a decent hour when Gary insists on “working the red carpet” every night before getting into bed.






This current post from catalogliving.com made me think of KimHill. Can you figure it why? heehee

It Might Get Loud

I know that I've blogged about music before. And I am completely aware that I've blogged about documentaries. But I can't help it; I love them both. And today I found the perfect combination of both...

It Might Get Loud is a documentary that was advertised as being about the electric guitar. I was interested. Then I found out that it starred Jimmy Paige, The Edge and Jack White. I was thrilled. I settled into my favorite armchair with a glass of water and a handful of M&M's. Then I paused it to get my headphones since I have such loud children...and headphones in my ears are their sign to leave me alone.

It was outrageous! I loved it! Nothing draws happiness out of me as much as music. And I have always loved Led Zeppelin and U2. The White Stripes are a newer fave addition to my playlist. To see all of the guitarists together and to hear their back stories was really fun.

All I could think while I was watching it was how great it would be to watch it with Brendan. After all, he's still a musician, and the first time he ever heard Led Zeppelin and U2 was from Chris and I. I remember teaching him to sing some of the songs when he was barely two. Seems like yesterday. Maybe when he's home we can find a couple of hours to watch it together. In the mean time, I think I'll write him and tell him about it.

Is Resistance Futile?

Only those familiar with the repercussions of mental illness will understand this, I am sure. It almost doesn't make sense to me. Will my mother always affect me this way?

-------------------

Like a ghost.
A dream almost remembered,
niggling at the edges of consciousness.
Like a word on the tip of the tongue.
A splinter festering in the finger.
Shadow, fear, always there.

Like an ancient worry stone,
turned over and over.
Rubbed gently over time.
Familiar, yet repugnant.

Run from it. Yesterday.
Ignore it. Today.
Pretend it doesn't exist. Now.

Bone deep surety, inevitability.
Resist, resist, resist.
Nothing is written in stone.

Will the reality of my mother ever leave me be?
Or will I wrestle with her every day for the rest of my life?

Weary.
Tired.
Done.

...

Faith.
Is God really good?
Ruthless trust.
Cling. Hope. Tenacious faith.
Please be real.

-------------------------------------------

I do not call this poetry. I don't know what I call this. Stream of consciousness, maybe? Incoherent babbling of a raving lunatic? Grieving of an abandoned child? All I know is that it helps to get it out of my head.

White Oleander

I watched the movie White Oleander yesterday. I thought it was a really good movie. I watched it based on the cast. Renee Zellweger, Michelle Pfeiffer, Robin Wright. I hoped it would be good, and it was.

Of course there were certain aspects of the film that I did not like. Robin Wright's character used Born Again Christianity as a crutch which is what many in the world boil Christianity down to. That part was sad to me. I'm absolutely positive that many "christians" do use it as a crutch; but I know I don't. I know I have surity that God is real. Christ is real and his sacrifice was real.

But there were moments in the movie that were very poignant. The main character's relationship with her mother was thought provoking, the way it shows how closely a mother and daughter are intertwined. Even when one or both of them are "profoundly broken." (a phrase directly from the movie)

The last lines of the movie made me think of my own mother.

“Even so, I find myself thinking of her, wanting to feel that wind. It’s a secret wanting… like a song I can’t stop humming. Or loving someone you can never have.
No matter how much she has damaged me… No matter how flawed she is…
I know my mother loves me.”

Wow. I think that says what I think most of the time when it comes to my mother.

Good movie. Very little bad language. Very few sexual situations. But it had the feeling of being very real, which made it more than a little sad at times. The ending was good though. I hate sad endings.

Unsure. Unsteady. Confident.

Things on my mind:

I love Pride and Prejudice. The BBC production. It's time to watch it again. All five hours of it. Solid film-making. Romantic. Beautifully shot. Witty. Well written. Colin Firth. 'Nuff said.

I'm really looking forward to Bible study tomorrow. I've really, really missed it. I love those Springville ladies.

There is a white dog at my house. It's been here for three days and it will not leave. We've chased it off with sticks, thrown gravel at it, not fed it. Today I shot the shotgun to scare it... 4 times! And it still comes back! It's not mean, just annoying. It's sweet, but it's big and a female. Too much maintenance for someone who is not an animal person and who already has a cat and a puppy. I think I'm going to have to take it to the pound tomorrow. Grrrr.... so inconvenient.

I miss Chris. He's been busy this week and we haven't had a chance to just be around each other. I like him. So much. I like to sit in bed and watch movies with him. I like just being in the same room with him: him reading or watching tv and me reading or on the computer. His breathing is a comfort to me. Like that Nickel Creek song, Tomorrow Is a Long Time. It says, "Yes and only if my own true love was waiting. If I could hear his heart softly pounding, yes and only if he was lyin' by me, would I lie in my bed once again." I love the sound of Chris' heart beating. It's slow and steady and assures me that he is real and he's still alive. I love to lay my head on his chest while we watch television and just be comforted by his existence. I adore that man.

I love my friends who come see me and make my home their own for a few hours a week. I love to see them dig in my cupboards and cook. I love making things, like tonight's margaritas, as a team; all of us giving it a taste until it's just right. I love laughing together and telling terrible things that break our hearts. I love that they can answer almost any question that my kids may have for me and vice versa.

I miss Ginger terribly. I didn't think it would be this bad. I honestly didn't. I want so much to have the money to buy a plane ticket. Why must it be so impossible? I feel like that illustration from Jane Eyre, that our hearts are bound together by an invisible cord. And the cord is stretched to a painful degree. I wonder if God will make a way for me to go see her? I wish, I wish, I wish...

I miss Brendan. I wonder how he feels right this very minute. Is he happy? Scared? Alone? Sick? Happy? Smiling? I wonder.

I've thought of Michelle all day. Talked to her once. Is St. Louis what she expected? Is there room for all her boxes? What will she and Michael face in the coming months? I want badly to help them, encourage them. I miss my little SK. Her happy smile when she wakes from her nap on Thursday is in my head. Will she remember me? I want there to be someone else there, in St Louis, who will love her the way my family and I do; who will do her nails and play marbles with her. I want them to be happy.

I am rambling. Anxious. Tired. Unsure of my choices. Unsteady on my feet, metaphorically speaking. Aware of my sin and weakness. Inadequate to the task. Confident that God is enough. Sure that He has a plan.

That's all. The End.

Funniness

Missy and I have a lot of fun. We have PhD's in witty bantering. It's true. I admire us tremendously. It's very hard to remember a time when we were not friends, even though it wasn't that long ago.

One of my favorite things we have done is go back and forth on Facebook. My favorite thread goes like this:

My status update:
sometimes the line between beauty and pretentiousness is in the eye of the beholder.

Missy: Of what do you speak?

Me: I speak in riddles and code...

Missy: Stop it.

Me: The eagle took the spoon and threw it down the hill with the goat... decipher.

Missy: My husband beat your husband up again? Dangit. I'll talk to him about that.

Me: No. That's "The BALD eagle threw the smokin' hot spork down the hill and killed the goat"!

Missy: Busy Beavers.

Me: aannnndddd.... scene! That's a wrap, people.



I'm still laughing. It's so nice to be able to crack yourself up. It's positively outrageous good fortune to have a friend who can do it for you. Thank you, Missy dear.

Brendan

3 am phone call.
pointed head in a striped cap, giant baby hands.
snuggle. cuddle. love.

2nd year.
bubble baths, funny faces, repeating led zeppelin.
come stay with me. let's race, color, sing.

4th year.
hold the baby. teach her guns and blocks.
come stay with me. let's cook, build, be silly.

7th year.
sad, confused, quiet.
what is divorce? can i stay with you?

10th year.
funny. mouthy. getting in trouble.
sure you can stay with me.

14th year.
music. girls. guns.
soul has returned. you're still mine.

18th year.
grown. confused. sure.
man. still my baby.

now.
must you leave? stay with me.
play. sing. silly. safe.
i still love you.

"The Ordeal"

I have bad teeth. That is no secret. And I'm not really one of those people who never talks about it. No one will ever say about me, "Oh wow! I had no idea that Crissy had bad teeth." I whine about them too much. What can I say? I'm a whiner. From waayyyyy back.

Monday I went to get the impressions for three crowns made. One of those is an implant. My first and hopefully last one. Me no likee. And they're too expensive. So, long story short, there was a new-ish hygienist who apparently is not 'for' suctioning. I lay there drowning until I couldn't take it any more. I swallowed. Which, it turns out, was a bad thing to do.

The drill cut into the soft floor of my mouth, right under and connected to my tongue. It bled. He cauterized it with silver nitrate and then put some stitches in it. After that, hygienist-lady (who incidentally will never work on me again) broke my temporary bridge, couldn't make another one and sprayed me in the face twice with water. By the time I left, my dentist had apologized countless times and my face was already swelling.

I was seriously trying not to cry. I was in pain, and it had scared me. When I walked into the waiting room, my father-in-law was there for his appointment. When he saw me, he reached out to me and I started to cry. He patted me on the back and asked silently if I was okay. I nodded, got my self together and drove home.

By Monday night, I couldn't swallow and my mouth was in hell. Tuesday, same thing. I couldn't move my tongue, couldn't talk, couldn't eat and spent a lot of time pacing and counting to control the pain.

My sister came up two days straight and schooled the kids, tidied the house and cooked supper. My kids got really good at charades. My friends brought me food and sent me sweet notes on facebook.

Today almost 4 days later, the swelling is finally going down and I can whisper. I have learned to drink my pureed food and be thankful for it. I can swallow a lot more easily.

But now I've realized that my tongue is numb in places. And there is a huge goiter-looking thing under my chin. I'm afraid that the drill got to my sublingual gland and maybe some nerves. I'm having trouble talking. It sounds like I've had a stroke. So I'm sitting here, in bed, blogging my fears and worries.

I know that God is good and his meticulous providence is perfect. I know that I am thankful for his provision in all things. I also think that it helps to just speak it. To remember it. To share it. No matter the end result.

October 23rd - A Great Day

What a beautiful day. I mean it. After months and months of rushing from one task/event/commitment to another, we just slowed it down today. It's funny: when you're over-committed, it feels impossible to let go of things and slow down. Until you've finally had enough, then it's easy as pie. You just cancel things and say no.

Anyway... so today... Brody and Ty both had games. Chris and I hung out and enjoyed being together while watching our "Squirt" and "Pork Chop" play ball. No stress whatsoever. Both boys won. We came home to a relatively clean house, laundry done (Thank you Brendan!), hot dogs thawed and ready to grill. Chris and the kids, plus our friend John, played two-hand touch in the front yard. I stretched out on the porch swing and propped my feet up on the chain. The wind was blowing just enough to keep us cool and push the swing. I talked to my cousin Brad for a little bit.

After a late lunch, I took a nap while the boys watched LSU and Auburn play and the girls hung out. After a lovely nap, (my first in months) I made homemade strawberry milkshakes for supper, cause I'm cool like that.

We looked at old scrapbooks and sat in the floor laughing. We teased and hugged and talked. At one point I watched Brody go get Gracie a housecoat because he noticed she was cold.

It was so nice... no, nice is not the right word, ... it was healing. Too much responsibility can suck the life right out of a family. Every once in a while, you need to not answer the phone, turn off Facebook and just hang out. I am so glad we did.

Thinking, Blinking and Humanity

I just watched an episode of This American Life on Netflix. TAL has been a radio show on NPR for a really long time and a few years ago Showtime made it a series. Alas, it only lasted 2 seasons. But I digress...

The episode I watched is called Escape. It was about a guy named Mike who has a muscular disorder to the point that he is completely deformed. He cannot speak, swallow, move. He can click a button with his thumb to type and he can blink and move his eyebrows. He is 27 years old and living at home with his mother.

Mike has perfect mental capabilities. He writes, jokes, curses, and is sarcastic. He just wants to be happy. When asked who he would choose to be his voice, instead of the stilted computer generated one, he answered "Either Johnny Depp or Edward Norton because they are both complete badasses."

When he said it, I felt kinda sorry for him actually. He was just so pitifully not either of those guys. But then to my complete surprise, Ira Glass says that from that point on in the show, all of Mike's emails and answers would be read by... Johnny Depp. And they were. From there on out, whenever Mike spoke it was with the voice of Johnny Depp.

I was really surprised at the effect this had on me. I immediately gave Mike's intelligence more credit. He seemed more human and tangible to me. His words seemed deeper and more eloquent. I don't think it had as much to do with it being Johnny Depp's voice (although it didn't hurt... I'm just sayin') as much as it was just a "normal" voice.

I wonder if Chris' dad feels that way having to use a servox. I wonder how many people in the world feel that way.

Mike has a girlfriend. An intelligent, non-handicapped girlfriend. People think she's crazy or perverse. I cringed when they introduced her. But after a while, I realized that she sees into him. She looks beyond his appearance and into his eyes and sees something that others don't see. I wonder if I could do that.

I have no conclusion to these thoughts. I just wanted to get them out of my head and maybe send them out into the great unknown. Maybe someone else will pick up my thoughts where I left off.

Define Iconoclast

I've been reading C.S. Lewis today. Thus my superior language skills in this post.

I like the movie Then She Found Me. There is a scene when Helen Hunt's character is having a crisis of faith and her mother tells her, "Maybe God is not who you thought he was. Maybe he's difficult. Awful. Complicated."

To some that may sound sacrilegious. But to me it sounds convicting. Lewis says that God is the Great Iconoclast. He says, "My idea of God is not a divine idea. It has to be shattered time after time. He shatters it Himself." I have varying ideas of who God is or who I want him to be. (I'm working as a church planter: thus, God wants to make this whole church planting thing fun. I love my husband: God will give my husband great tenderness and affection for me at all times.)

And when God does not meet my expectations. When my husband is busy or my mother dies or there is pain in church community, my perception of who God is will be shattered.

I had a friend tell me once after a semi-traumatic event, "Maybe you just thought you were trusting God."

There are so many times that I just think that I am trusting God. Like Helen Hunt's character said, "I had faith. I thought God was good." What she really meant was that she thought God was going to do things her way. Or that the only "good" she could see in that moment was what she had the power to envision.

I don't really know if I am saying that I don't have faith or if it's that I don't put my faith in who God really is. I invent who I want Him to be. I exercise faith by clenching my eyes shut and crossing my fingers, hoping and wishing on a star. My faith is stilted. My hope is in a religious idea. I build a temple out of my circumstances.

And when things do not go the way I think they should, or there is pain that seems too much to bear, I feel the foundations of my life begin to tear and I panic. I panic thinking that God has somehow abandoned me or let me down. But the reality is that the tearing and shattering is God revealing Himself to me. I forget that God's presence is associated with fire and thunder and earthquakes.

Lewis says, "God has not been trying an experiment on my faith or love in order to find out their quality. He knew it already. It was I who didn't. ... He always knew that my temple was a house of cards. His only way of making me realize the fact was to knock it down."

Most of the time, I want an easy God. A religious figure. A relic to help me through my day. But God is a furious lover. An independent reality. A complicated Trinity. He shatters in order to shape. He is the Great Iconoclast.

Both of Me

I've noticed something about myself. When my life gets scheduled to the nth degree, I get the urge to take on a project, usually a remodelling project. I've wondered about it. Why in the world would I try do one more thing when I'm already busy?

I think it's because my life is regimented, task-oriented and repetitive, to a certain degree. (Don't get me wrong, I'm doing things I love: homeschool, football, ballet, etc but it's the same schedule almost every day with no delineation) And really, that kind of life will kill me eventually. While my husband positively thrives on schedule, it sucks the life out of me. I tried once when my kids were younger to do the same thing, at the same time, every day. It worked for two weeks. And then I began to question the meaning of life and the purpose of my existence. It really felt to me that life stretched out in one long, endless, tiresome repetition with no goodness or joy to be seen. I learned something about myself.

I need to be creative. I need time to plan things, do things that are for the pure sake of beauty. I need to read, sing, dance, build, plan, see change. I need to stretch my soul.

So in the midst of being a responsible mom and wife, while I am teaching and cheering and waiting, I need to also be the other me, the introspective lover of art and beauty and change. Because I am both those people.

Mom Shirley

I wonder if it's a good thing or a bad thing that my children have experienced so much death in their short lives. I can see the benefit: heaven is very real to them. They do not fear death. They hate it, but they do not fear it. They have so many people they love there waiting for them.

But I hate that they have had to experience it. I hate the sadness that envelopes them at times. I hate the impotence I feel at their grief. I cannot make it better. It sucks. It is broken. I cannot change that.

I want my children to love God. I want them to trust in His love for them. I want for this too to be made right.

Mom Shirley is dying. She is the grandmother that we have helped care for since her stroke when Ty was a baby. Her house is where we spent every Wednesday night for over a decade. Her wheelchair is the first "car" that both my boys worked on with their little plastic tools. Her words of wisdom taught me how to potty train and laugh and relax and cook cream of chicken soup. She has ruthlessly trusted God in all things. Her husband and two of her children are in heaven waiting for her.

Her leaving will leave a gaping void in our lives that only the Spirit can comfort. And she will be one more person that my kids will look forward to seeing in heaven.

Shhh. Therapy In Session...

The Gospel Is A Beautiful Thing

An isolationist life philosophy, by its very definition, cannot include evangelism. It seeks to insulate the person (or family) from the 'evils of the world', thus excluding the unbeliever. But as the gospel is worked out in the life of the believing individual, it becomes easier to identify with the unbeliever. Being able to identify with the 'sinner' eliminates the fear of the 'sinner', thus opening the life and heart of the believer to the very people he was once isolating himself from.

The gospel is a beautiful thing.

Thoughts I've Had Today That Made Me Smile

Thoughts I've Had Today That Made Me Smile

1. KimHill is moving home soon!

2. When the toilet at Old Navy violently flushed, I thought of Moaning Myrtle. (a Harry Potter reference)

3. Boys like Dirty Jobs; girls, not so much.

4. I want to pull a Mystery Science Theatre with Heather and Missy... while watching Twilight.

5. I didn't have to fight either of my daughters on modesty issues while picking out bathing suits today.

6. I am friends with the lead singer of my favorite band. That is very cool.

7. My son is trying to make his own ammonia. In a bucket. Behind my house. Thanks Mythbusters.

8. My kids have discovered The Police and they like it.

9. I made my teenager and her friend laugh several times and then call me retarded.

10. I'm glad I recycle.

11. I realized that I know several grown-ups who were homeschooled. And they're very well adjusted.

12. A year ago today I was with my friends in England.


These are just the few smiley thoughts I had today. I hope one of them made you smile too. :o)

Vague

I sit here, paying bills and staring out the window. It's so pretty outside today, but I know that it's really humid and so I just pretend that I want to go outside. We have enough money in the bank to pay our bills. For that I am thankful. But what about unexpected things, or extra things? Nope.

Maggie needs braces and I've been trying to save enough to pay for them. Sometimes I think it would be easier if I had a job. But then the implications of that begin to multiply in my mind and I shrink away from it. God will provide. He always does.

My life is like my computer monitor. I have five tabs and four programs open. Clicking back and forth, back and forth. I think my computer is tired.

I can't decide if I'm overwhelmed or not. I don't think I am. Just disjointed a bit. Out of step. Trying to rest. Resting is hard to do when you have a vague feeling that you're forgetting something.

I miss my husband. I wish I could spend more relaxed time with him. We used to be together all the time. ALL the time. We stayed at home mostly and walked around the property and cooked dinner together. We were introverts. But now we have more kids and more responsibilty, friends. And ministry is a beautiful beast that cannot be tamed. We cling to each other more now than ever. We just have to do it in fits and starts.

I am rambling. Whirling along with the path of my thoughts... Say "Good night Gracie." "Good night Gracie."

Brendan's Birthday Gift to Me

Combos

Combinations. It's all about combinations. I can keep a clean house and homeschool the children. OR I can keep the yard up and exercise. OR I can exercise and homeschool. etc, ad naseum...

If you ask me to keep house, school, AND do yard work, something will be shot straight to hell. It's true. And there are even those times when the closets are tidy but the laundry is out of control.

Sometimes it makes me tired. It used to make me angry. But I am resigned. I cannot do it all. And if by some miracle I do, well, it's not done well. And that's okay. I just keep plugging away. Slow and steady. And somehow it all eventually gets done.

An Honest But Blunt Purging of Thought and Emotion

I am perplexed, tired, overwhelmed, coming apart at the seams. I feel like I was punched about 5 times today. It wasn't as simple as, "Oh, I'm having a bad day." It was more like, "Maybe I shouldn't say this a 'bad day'. Maybe I should just call it 'normal' now."

What if I break? What if I cannot do this? What if I just lose it? The thought runs over and over in my mind: It's too much. It's too much. It's too much.

I have no desire to compare myself to others who have it better than me or worse than me. Or to people who have done all this before me. That is not the point. The point is: This is hard. And painful. And all my nice little natural-gifting packages do not apply. I am out on a limb. Clinging to the gospel.

I am perplexed. And I am struck down. And, in a way, afflicted.

I am afflicted, but not crushed.
I am perplexed, but not driven to despair.
I am struck down, but not destroyed.
(And I am quoting 2 Cor. 4:8-10)

Verse 11 then goes on to say, "For we who live are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our mortal flesh."

Can I just be blunt? That s*&$ hurts sometimes.


P.S. I hope no one reads this. But I feel better for putting it out there.







**I wrote the majority of this post in about 5 minutes. Just letting it all out. But as I sit here and read it over, I wonder who will read it. And of those who do, who will have any idea to what I'm referring? So I feel that a small explanation is in order. And I'm sure I'll feel stupid and inadequate as I write it out. Maybe I'll just make a list.

1. Chris has started seminary. He is pursuing a Master's in Divinity.
2. Chris studies all the time.
3. Chris is still working 2 jobs.
4. We are heavily involved in planting a church.
5. I am homeschooling my kids. One of whom is being tested for learning disabilities.
6. All my kids, save one, are involved in extracurricular activites.
7. I am trying to run the home (ie; bills, cooking, cleaning, yard work, taxes, car maintenance, vet visits, etc.) on my own so that Chris can devote himself to studying.
8. I am cleaning Chris's grandmother's and mother's houses once a week to help them. My mother-in-law is wearing herself out and has no one to help her.
9. I have no van. I am packing my kids into a Protege, which I am very thankful to have, but being without a van is really hard.
10. Money is tight. A lot.

This is not a list to get attention or to have people feel sorry for me. This is just so people don't read the post and freak out, thinking I have cancer or something.

Dubai Fountain - The World's Most Expensive Fountain

Captivating!

I Like Music... duh!

My kids pointed out to me the other day that I really love music. My first response was that I love music, of course, but no more than your average mother. After a few discreet inquiries, I'm not so sure that is completely true.

The first thing I do in the morning is turn on music. I have 4 playlists on Project Playlist, 5 channels on Pandora, plus all of my music on Windows Media. I have music for every occasion. In the van, I have my Zune and if it goes dead, Maggie has her phone, and if it goes dead, we have cds, and worst case scenario- there's always the radio.

For school, something soothing like Sufjan Stevens or Over the Rhine or maybe Deathcab for Cutie.
For cleaning and cooking, I have my playlist with Beyonce, Lady Gaga, JT, Outkast, Red Hot Chili Peppers and Gwen Stephani.
For reading, I have my Chopin station on Pandora.
For general usage, I have my playlist on this blog.

In the van, the only time music is not playing is when I'm listening to NPR or a book on CD.

Gracie went so far as to say that I love music more than reading. Huh. I had no idea. I think I love reading more, but when do I have time to spend all day reading?

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.