Monday, April 30, 2007
Beautiful!
Jessica Wright is a lovely photographer. She took our pictures a week or so ago. They turned out so well. Take a look if you have time. Of course, when your children are as gorgeous as mine, it makes the photographer's job easier. ;o)
Friday, April 27, 2007
Relax
Why do I get so nervous sometimes? Why am I so clumsy? And when I am clumsy, why can't I shake that nagging sense of idiocy?
Today, I met Kim's father-in-law and brother-in-law for the first time ever. To make matters worse, Kim had spent quite a while telling them alllll about me. "Oh, she's so funny!" "She's very social... very sweet... very blah-blah-blah." No pressure.
So, once we knew that they were less than 10 minutes away, I broke a new plate, knocked over the vacuum cleaner, stubbed my toe and generally made myself crazy. By the time they pulled in the drive, I was so nervous I felt sick to my stomach. I greeted Scott's dad at the truck and offered to carry something for him. He handed me his nebulizer with the words, "Just don't drop it." My first thought was that Kim had told him about my clumsiness. She hadn't but my nerves frayed just a little more.
I stood in the kitchen, helping Kim cook supper, and talked to Bob (Scott's dad). He and I talked about life, health, etc. The conversation evolved until we were talking about death. Don't ask me how it happened, it just did. Guess what? Mike (Scott's brother) had a son, Shane, who died 2 years ago. What's my theme song again? Oh yeah... John Mayer's My Stupid Mouth.
How did I go from a ball of nerves to the real me? Not easily that's for sure.
Internal conversation as follows:
Stupid!
What is wrong with me? Why can't I just SHUT-UP!?!?!
Wait... no one seems uncomfortable. As a matter of fact, Mike talked for several minutes about Shane. Like he wanted to.
Maybe this is okay.
What is it that Chris says, "You should never be afraid of the truth."
My problem is that I'm trying to impress them. I'm tied up in knots.
Relax. Calm down.
You are the righteous daughter of the Most High. What does anything else matter?
Huh. It doesn't. Not really. Be loving. Speak truth.
RELAX!
And I did. And it was good.
Today, I met Kim's father-in-law and brother-in-law for the first time ever. To make matters worse, Kim had spent quite a while telling them alllll about me. "Oh, she's so funny!" "She's very social... very sweet... very blah-blah-blah." No pressure.
So, once we knew that they were less than 10 minutes away, I broke a new plate, knocked over the vacuum cleaner, stubbed my toe and generally made myself crazy. By the time they pulled in the drive, I was so nervous I felt sick to my stomach. I greeted Scott's dad at the truck and offered to carry something for him. He handed me his nebulizer with the words, "Just don't drop it." My first thought was that Kim had told him about my clumsiness. She hadn't but my nerves frayed just a little more.
I stood in the kitchen, helping Kim cook supper, and talked to Bob (Scott's dad). He and I talked about life, health, etc. The conversation evolved until we were talking about death. Don't ask me how it happened, it just did. Guess what? Mike (Scott's brother) had a son, Shane, who died 2 years ago. What's my theme song again? Oh yeah... John Mayer's My Stupid Mouth.
How did I go from a ball of nerves to the real me? Not easily that's for sure.
Internal conversation as follows:
Stupid!
What is wrong with me? Why can't I just SHUT-UP!?!?!
Wait... no one seems uncomfortable. As a matter of fact, Mike talked for several minutes about Shane. Like he wanted to.
Maybe this is okay.
What is it that Chris says, "You should never be afraid of the truth."
My problem is that I'm trying to impress them. I'm tied up in knots.
Relax. Calm down.
You are the righteous daughter of the Most High. What does anything else matter?
Huh. It doesn't. Not really. Be loving. Speak truth.
RELAX!
And I did. And it was good.
Monday, April 16, 2007
Here is something my Dad emailed to me last week. I found it incredibly encouraging.
Hillary Clinton is running for President and using her gender to raise money at every turn.
Recently, Geraldine Ferraro was brought back from the Land of Misfit Political Candidates to raise money for Hillary by reminding us all that she was the first woman to run on a major party slate . . . if the Mondale candidacy sweeping its way through D.C. and Minnesota counts as major.
Hillary is as earnest as a tooth ache and determined to show all those smug boys from the fifties that she can win. She probably cannot, but it is depressing to watch her try. You have to pity Hillary, married to Bill and trying to look like she doesn’t mind . . . any of it. She wants to be a feminist icon, but if she gets some power in exchange for standing by her man she will be a story as old as Cleopatra.
When the women in the news are Anna Nicole Smith and Hillary a traditional Christian can feel glum about the state of our culture. Both women have been exploited and both have tried to turn that exploitation to their own advantage. Both were obviously unhappy and now one is gone too soon . . . and the other has lonely eyes in a face with a jaw that seems hinged to pour forth platitudes like some sad muppet forced to repeat lines written by a handler.
Whenever I feel very bad, I make sure to speak to home school mothers. These women represent something new. They are not feminists, a phrase they most often reject with scorn. Most live in very traditional households where the husband is the head of the family. However, they are certainly not Donna Reed door mats waiting at home in pearls and high heels for their lord and master to arrive home. They are very strong and fiercely opinionated. They are incredibly well read, devouring more books a year than most U.C. students read in four years. Book a talk with a Plato scholar to hear about big ideas and they show up.
So what are they? They remind me most of the strong women of my great-grandmother’s generation in West Virginia, who could run a farm, fix the roof, write hymns for the church, and who had never heard of bulimia. They did not worry about their body image, because they were secure in the love of their strong men, none of whom would have been allowed a metrosexual makeover if they had wanted it. Those strong women could never have burned a bra, because they never bothered trying to wear pin up girl underwear. Ask those women what they thought and you heard more than you wanted to hear. I knew a few of these women, the last of the old pioneer stock, but only when they were old and tired.
The home school mothers of California are not old. Sometimes their brutal schedules may make them tired, but they are up for more in the morning. When I talk to them I quickly realize, they care more about idea than rhetoric. These women solve problems every day. They educate their children in highly creative ways, inventing curriculum, programs, and social events out of nothing but their talent. They are neither dowdy nor fashion conscious. Their dress is most often sensible, but feminine. They innovate, but within the bounds of tradition. What are they? God bless us, they are ladies, a group many thought had gone extinct around the time of the sinking of Titanic.
In one sense, their lives are a bloodless martyrdom. The media mostly forgets them except for the occasional condescending piece in the Times. They fit no stereotypes, being too numerous and too interesting, so they are ignored. They sacrifice for the welfare of their children.
Talents that could vitalize a corporate board room are turned to teaching children to read. Their children, of course, take such sacrifice for granted. Their mothers make it safe for them to be blissfully unaware of their blessings. So these strong women sacrifice everything our culture deems important. They have no resume inflating career. Yet they give new life and meaning to all the Victorian platitudes lodged, because they are true, in the back of all our minds. “The hand that rocks the cradle rules the world.”
These are kitchen table Socrates. They don’t trust the government schools that spend billions to produce cookie cutter children. These women use cookie cutters on cookies not children. Like Socrates, they despise uniformity in education and people who teach for money and not love of students . Their children are producing reams of stories, hours of music, original plays, and a whole new civilization. If our boys are overseas defending the West, these women are home renewing it.
Home school mothers are the heart of a traditionalist revolution that is driving life back into the homes. To these women, and the men blessed to be married to them, homes are no longer assets or places to share a microwave dinner at the end of an exhausting day of separation. Spreading like some beneficial virus, men and women are returning basic educational, economic, and social functions to home where they have always belonged.
A great poet was brought to see God through the example of one godly woman. Dante had his Beatrice and it was enough. It is harder for men in our materialistic age, so God has raised up thousands of such women. It is time to take a good hard look at what these heroes without epic poets are doing in quiet. I put very little trust in princes, whether elected or not. Rather, if the oldest stories are true the fate of the Republic rests more with these home school mothers.
There are now millions of these strong, independent, God fearing women in the United States. They ask nothing of government, but to be left alone.
These women are not impressed with stardom and glamor, many do not even own televisions. Their men work long hours in their own, often not very glamorous, businesses so that their wives can save the West. The men they admire get things done with decency and honor. They are often quiet men, but as sound as the state credit used to be. Their wives chose them for their virtues, not their muscles. Home school mothers are fiercely liberated and proudly traditional.
Seeing God in Beatrice allowed Dante to find his way back from darkness. Seeing God in these home school mothers could show any man the way back to decency and honor. I know, because I am married to a home school mother and she fires my imagination, gives me hope, and is educating the future of our line.
Mayhaps the West is in for difficult days . . . I could be wrong and Hillary might win, but I would still bet the children of the Beatrice Brigade will prevail in the end. The sacrifice of such matrons cannot be for nothing . . . and there is more real life in one of their questions than I have ever heard in a Hillary listening tour.
Take heart gentleman. They are out there, our Beatrice Brigade, doing the work of civilizing the next generation of culture warriors. My wife, I realized one day, was to me the Fairest Flower in all of Christendom . . . and so she is and so every Beatrice is to the one who sees her well. The land, every corner of it, are filled with such gentle souls . . fair flowers of Christ’s kingdom doing God’s work for God’s pay.
Thank you.
Written by John Mark Reynolds
Posted on http://www.scriptoriumdaily.com/
Hillary Clinton is running for President and using her gender to raise money at every turn.
Recently, Geraldine Ferraro was brought back from the Land of Misfit Political Candidates to raise money for Hillary by reminding us all that she was the first woman to run on a major party slate . . . if the Mondale candidacy sweeping its way through D.C. and Minnesota counts as major.
Hillary is as earnest as a tooth ache and determined to show all those smug boys from the fifties that she can win. She probably cannot, but it is depressing to watch her try. You have to pity Hillary, married to Bill and trying to look like she doesn’t mind . . . any of it. She wants to be a feminist icon, but if she gets some power in exchange for standing by her man she will be a story as old as Cleopatra.
When the women in the news are Anna Nicole Smith and Hillary a traditional Christian can feel glum about the state of our culture. Both women have been exploited and both have tried to turn that exploitation to their own advantage. Both were obviously unhappy and now one is gone too soon . . . and the other has lonely eyes in a face with a jaw that seems hinged to pour forth platitudes like some sad muppet forced to repeat lines written by a handler.
Whenever I feel very bad, I make sure to speak to home school mothers. These women represent something new. They are not feminists, a phrase they most often reject with scorn. Most live in very traditional households where the husband is the head of the family. However, they are certainly not Donna Reed door mats waiting at home in pearls and high heels for their lord and master to arrive home. They are very strong and fiercely opinionated. They are incredibly well read, devouring more books a year than most U.C. students read in four years. Book a talk with a Plato scholar to hear about big ideas and they show up.
So what are they? They remind me most of the strong women of my great-grandmother’s generation in West Virginia, who could run a farm, fix the roof, write hymns for the church, and who had never heard of bulimia. They did not worry about their body image, because they were secure in the love of their strong men, none of whom would have been allowed a metrosexual makeover if they had wanted it. Those strong women could never have burned a bra, because they never bothered trying to wear pin up girl underwear. Ask those women what they thought and you heard more than you wanted to hear. I knew a few of these women, the last of the old pioneer stock, but only when they were old and tired.
The home school mothers of California are not old. Sometimes their brutal schedules may make them tired, but they are up for more in the morning. When I talk to them I quickly realize, they care more about idea than rhetoric. These women solve problems every day. They educate their children in highly creative ways, inventing curriculum, programs, and social events out of nothing but their talent. They are neither dowdy nor fashion conscious. Their dress is most often sensible, but feminine. They innovate, but within the bounds of tradition. What are they? God bless us, they are ladies, a group many thought had gone extinct around the time of the sinking of Titanic.
In one sense, their lives are a bloodless martyrdom. The media mostly forgets them except for the occasional condescending piece in the Times. They fit no stereotypes, being too numerous and too interesting, so they are ignored. They sacrifice for the welfare of their children.
Talents that could vitalize a corporate board room are turned to teaching children to read. Their children, of course, take such sacrifice for granted. Their mothers make it safe for them to be blissfully unaware of their blessings. So these strong women sacrifice everything our culture deems important. They have no resume inflating career. Yet they give new life and meaning to all the Victorian platitudes lodged, because they are true, in the back of all our minds. “The hand that rocks the cradle rules the world.”
These are kitchen table Socrates. They don’t trust the government schools that spend billions to produce cookie cutter children. These women use cookie cutters on cookies not children. Like Socrates, they despise uniformity in education and people who teach for money and not love of students . Their children are producing reams of stories, hours of music, original plays, and a whole new civilization. If our boys are overseas defending the West, these women are home renewing it.
Home school mothers are the heart of a traditionalist revolution that is driving life back into the homes. To these women, and the men blessed to be married to them, homes are no longer assets or places to share a microwave dinner at the end of an exhausting day of separation. Spreading like some beneficial virus, men and women are returning basic educational, economic, and social functions to home where they have always belonged.
A great poet was brought to see God through the example of one godly woman. Dante had his Beatrice and it was enough. It is harder for men in our materialistic age, so God has raised up thousands of such women. It is time to take a good hard look at what these heroes without epic poets are doing in quiet. I put very little trust in princes, whether elected or not. Rather, if the oldest stories are true the fate of the Republic rests more with these home school mothers.
There are now millions of these strong, independent, God fearing women in the United States. They ask nothing of government, but to be left alone.
These women are not impressed with stardom and glamor, many do not even own televisions. Their men work long hours in their own, often not very glamorous, businesses so that their wives can save the West. The men they admire get things done with decency and honor. They are often quiet men, but as sound as the state credit used to be. Their wives chose them for their virtues, not their muscles. Home school mothers are fiercely liberated and proudly traditional.
Seeing God in Beatrice allowed Dante to find his way back from darkness. Seeing God in these home school mothers could show any man the way back to decency and honor. I know, because I am married to a home school mother and she fires my imagination, gives me hope, and is educating the future of our line.
Mayhaps the West is in for difficult days . . . I could be wrong and Hillary might win, but I would still bet the children of the Beatrice Brigade will prevail in the end. The sacrifice of such matrons cannot be for nothing . . . and there is more real life in one of their questions than I have ever heard in a Hillary listening tour.
Take heart gentleman. They are out there, our Beatrice Brigade, doing the work of civilizing the next generation of culture warriors. My wife, I realized one day, was to me the Fairest Flower in all of Christendom . . . and so she is and so every Beatrice is to the one who sees her well. The land, every corner of it, are filled with such gentle souls . . fair flowers of Christ’s kingdom doing God’s work for God’s pay.
Thank you.
Written by John Mark Reynolds
Posted on http://www.scriptoriumdaily.com/
Saturday, April 14, 2007
Maggie and Brody
I have to fight just to keep Brody from turning into a total brat. Maggie babies him way to much. She and I are having a talk shortly.
Today, she carried him around in a laundry basket for hours because "his feet can't touch the ground." Why? "Because he's the king." She then proceeded to yell at anyone who "turned their back on the king". I know that she does it as play but he's gonna get a complex.
After his bath tonight, she gave him a lotion massage. And he lay on the couch and let her. Good grief!
Today, she carried him around in a laundry basket for hours because "his feet can't touch the ground." Why? "Because he's the king." She then proceeded to yell at anyone who "turned their back on the king". I know that she does it as play but he's gonna get a complex.
After his bath tonight, she gave him a lotion massage. And he lay on the couch and let her. Good grief!
Friday, April 13, 2007
For Jawan
Okay, Jawan... you're right, it is time for a new post. But you almost gave me a heart attack. You, oh pregnant friend, should not send me an email with "It's time" in the subject line. Not funny. ;o)
Due to many unforseen hormone changes over the past few weeks, I've been a little emotional. I'm either way to energetic to sit at the computer or I'm blah and have nothing to say. That might be t.m.i. for some of you but that's just the way of things right now.
My lovely friend KimHill was robbed this week. It made me very angry. Their house in Roebuck that's been on the market for over a year had all of it's copper plumbing stolen.
We went camping last week and got rained on.
My mom's birthday was Easter Sunday.
What do all of these things have in common? My inability to trust God with my discomfort and pain. My mantra this week has been "That's not fair." I've really struggled. I want to, at the very least, be able to understand why God has done some of the things that He has done. I've struggled with some anger this week.
And then, the other night as I lay trying to go to sleep, fighting God, I had a dream. Maybe it was a vision, I'm not sure. Anyway, I'll describe it:
The wind was blowing strong and steady. I got the impression of being in Tibet, lush and green. I was standing just outside a line of trees, looking out over a wide open grassy place. In the midst of this open place was a well worn path. It wound it's way up the side of a tall mountain. As I watched, I could see a long, long line of people. Most of these people were either holding a baby or helping a sick or elderly person. The journey was long and the line unending. But the people were steadily plodding their way up the mountian. I walked past them, looking for what they were seeking. When I neared the top, I passed several tall statues that resembled the Easter Island statues. The people got quiet as they passed them. At the top of the mountain, in the midst of dozens of 'priests' stood a beautiful woman. I realized in my dream that she was a goddess of some sort. The people were bringing their babies and sick to her for her to bless them. I was overwhelmed with a deep sense a futility. They were seeking life from an idol, healing from a god in their own image. Pointless. And then, I heard God's voice...
and all He said was "This is what you really want. This is what you want me to be."
I really was shocked. No! That's not what I want at all, I insisted. But He reminded me that when He acted like the God that He is , the I Am, it made me angry. I wouldn't submit to His meticulously providential will. I wanted Him to be something that I could understand. A god that makes sense. A god that conforms to my will.
I was soundly reprimanded. Scolded. Humbled. He is so much bigger than my imagination that my mind rebels against the very thought of Him. Does that make Him less God? Just because I forget Him, does He cease to exist? Just because I disagree with His plan, does He lose power? Absolutely not!!!
I am left with a deep and abiding sense of protection. He is God. His vastness is all encompassing. His power is beyond understanding. And His love is consuming. And when I am consumed, I am alive. When I am consumed, I become who I really am.
Due to many unforseen hormone changes over the past few weeks, I've been a little emotional. I'm either way to energetic to sit at the computer or I'm blah and have nothing to say. That might be t.m.i. for some of you but that's just the way of things right now.
My lovely friend KimHill was robbed this week. It made me very angry. Their house in Roebuck that's been on the market for over a year had all of it's copper plumbing stolen.
We went camping last week and got rained on.
My mom's birthday was Easter Sunday.
What do all of these things have in common? My inability to trust God with my discomfort and pain. My mantra this week has been "That's not fair." I've really struggled. I want to, at the very least, be able to understand why God has done some of the things that He has done. I've struggled with some anger this week.
And then, the other night as I lay trying to go to sleep, fighting God, I had a dream. Maybe it was a vision, I'm not sure. Anyway, I'll describe it:
The wind was blowing strong and steady. I got the impression of being in Tibet, lush and green. I was standing just outside a line of trees, looking out over a wide open grassy place. In the midst of this open place was a well worn path. It wound it's way up the side of a tall mountain. As I watched, I could see a long, long line of people. Most of these people were either holding a baby or helping a sick or elderly person. The journey was long and the line unending. But the people were steadily plodding their way up the mountian. I walked past them, looking for what they were seeking. When I neared the top, I passed several tall statues that resembled the Easter Island statues. The people got quiet as they passed them. At the top of the mountain, in the midst of dozens of 'priests' stood a beautiful woman. I realized in my dream that she was a goddess of some sort. The people were bringing their babies and sick to her for her to bless them. I was overwhelmed with a deep sense a futility. They were seeking life from an idol, healing from a god in their own image. Pointless. And then, I heard God's voice...
and all He said was "This is what you really want. This is what you want me to be."
I really was shocked. No! That's not what I want at all, I insisted. But He reminded me that when He acted like the God that He is , the I Am, it made me angry. I wouldn't submit to His meticulously providential will. I wanted Him to be something that I could understand. A god that makes sense. A god that conforms to my will.
I was soundly reprimanded. Scolded. Humbled. He is so much bigger than my imagination that my mind rebels against the very thought of Him. Does that make Him less God? Just because I forget Him, does He cease to exist? Just because I disagree with His plan, does He lose power? Absolutely not!!!
I am left with a deep and abiding sense of protection. He is God. His vastness is all encompassing. His power is beyond understanding. And His love is consuming. And when I am consumed, I am alive. When I am consumed, I become who I really am.
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Talent Show 2007
I've just arrived home from this year's talent show. Oh my gosh! So, so funny.
Maggie and Ty each did a poetic recitation. Shel Silverstein poems. Thank you, Aunt Denise for that particular birthday present all those years ago (Where The Sidewalk Ends). Gracie sang 2 songs with Mrs. Mona's class and also quoted a memory verse. I was proud of them all.
Adam did 2 songs by himself. Adam, Stokes and Connie did 3 songs together. WOW!!! Wish you could have been there to hear it. BTW, Amber, I'll try to get you a copy of Adam's new CD for your birthday that I missed. I thought about you all day but never made the time to call. Sorry, friend.
Betty was back by popular demand. She had written a new song and also performed some of her classics. It was a hoot. Mike Johnson played his guitar really well, as well as really loudly. No joke, I saw a young girl who's hearing impaired plug her ears. Very loud!
Seth played his guitar and sang. This year I noticed improvement in his playing and I could understand almost every word he sang. He followed up with an acapella version of the national anthem. He received a standing ovation. Jawan, you would have been proud.
And last, but most assuredly not least, The Staff Infections. For those of you who are uninformed, our church staff performs every year at the end of the talent show under the name The Staff Infections. It is always the best part of the night. This year they performed Stayin' Alive by the BeeGees. I laughed until I thought I would vomit.
Burt had on green suede boots with brass buckles and toes, his pants were too tight and his shirt was unbuttoned with gold chains around his neck. Stokes was alllll into it. KimHill said that he had his white-man-disco face. Steve boogied and Quinn tried to keep up.
Quinn was striking in his satin disco 'blouse'. Towards the end, they left the stage and dragged their wives up to dance with them. Go, Laura! Go, Laura! Do the hustle. Laura boogied down. KimHill took a minute to get over her humiliation and then she also 'got down'. Connie tried but poor thing, she was laughing too hard... or maybe she was just trying to cover up the fact that she found her husband powerfully attractive in his tight pants, bold satin shirt and very large chain. Anita was simply paralyzed. She couldn't quite find her rhythm. Poor thing. It must be a burden to be married to a black man in a white man's body.
All in all, an absolutely wonderful night. I know that I've left out a lot of acts but I don't have the time to recount it all. Everyone was great.I wish you all could have been there.
God is good. He has given me much to be thankful for. My church home is very close to the top of the list.
Maggie and Ty each did a poetic recitation. Shel Silverstein poems. Thank you, Aunt Denise for that particular birthday present all those years ago (Where The Sidewalk Ends). Gracie sang 2 songs with Mrs. Mona's class and also quoted a memory verse. I was proud of them all.
Adam did 2 songs by himself. Adam, Stokes and Connie did 3 songs together. WOW!!! Wish you could have been there to hear it. BTW, Amber, I'll try to get you a copy of Adam's new CD for your birthday that I missed. I thought about you all day but never made the time to call. Sorry, friend.
Betty was back by popular demand. She had written a new song and also performed some of her classics. It was a hoot. Mike Johnson played his guitar really well, as well as really loudly. No joke, I saw a young girl who's hearing impaired plug her ears. Very loud!
Seth played his guitar and sang. This year I noticed improvement in his playing and I could understand almost every word he sang. He followed up with an acapella version of the national anthem. He received a standing ovation. Jawan, you would have been proud.
And last, but most assuredly not least, The Staff Infections. For those of you who are uninformed, our church staff performs every year at the end of the talent show under the name The Staff Infections. It is always the best part of the night. This year they performed Stayin' Alive by the BeeGees. I laughed until I thought I would vomit.
Burt had on green suede boots with brass buckles and toes, his pants were too tight and his shirt was unbuttoned with gold chains around his neck. Stokes was alllll into it. KimHill said that he had his white-man-disco face. Steve boogied and Quinn tried to keep up.
Quinn was striking in his satin disco 'blouse'. Towards the end, they left the stage and dragged their wives up to dance with them. Go, Laura! Go, Laura! Do the hustle. Laura boogied down. KimHill took a minute to get over her humiliation and then she also 'got down'. Connie tried but poor thing, she was laughing too hard... or maybe she was just trying to cover up the fact that she found her husband powerfully attractive in his tight pants, bold satin shirt and very large chain. Anita was simply paralyzed. She couldn't quite find her rhythm. Poor thing. It must be a burden to be married to a black man in a white man's body.
All in all, an absolutely wonderful night. I know that I've left out a lot of acts but I don't have the time to recount it all. Everyone was great.I wish you all could have been there.
God is good. He has given me much to be thankful for. My church home is very close to the top of the list.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Catch Up
Time for a game of catch up. Since nothing I've done has been ground breaking... I'll hit the most memorable things. Which means, the ones I can actually remember.
We got a new couch. For free. It's very pretty. Our neighbors gave it to us. I was very excited. The kids were too until they realized that we would be getting rid of the old one. You would have thought that we were getting rid of Brody. There was much weeping done on that night in the Sharp home. Serious, shoulder-shaking sobbing... a flood of tears. They still harbor a little animosity toward the new couch. Loyal to the end.
We had another women's event at the church. It was really fun. I saw several things that need to be done differently next year. Everyone else seemed to think it was perfect. Jawan and Adam and Kim Hill took care of the music. People had fun, learned new things, and were encouraged. That was great to see and be a part of. Laura Morgan and I were the speakers. It's very hard to be objective about something like that... but all of the comments that I've received were very positive. All I know is that I had a blast speaking. I wasn't scared, even though I was in front of almost a hundred women. It was great. I'd love to do something like that again.
Chris has been taking guitar lessons from Adam Wright. I'm lovin' it. Chris is learning a lot of my favorite songs. Adam is amazing. Really.
Maggie and Ty started communicants class. For those of you not in the PCA, that means they're studying to become communing members of the church. They'll be going thru an 18 week course at the end of which they will sit down with the elders and be interviewed. Then the decision will be made as to whether or not they are truly ready for participation in Communion and church membership. I'll let you know.
Just FYI, Bohemian Rhapsody is my favorite song. There are many songs that I love and enjoy but none compare to BR. It's just so much fun. Just thought you might like to know.
Well the mob just came in, so there'll be no more concentrating for me anytime soon. I'll try to post again soon. Bye.
We got a new couch. For free. It's very pretty. Our neighbors gave it to us. I was very excited. The kids were too until they realized that we would be getting rid of the old one. You would have thought that we were getting rid of Brody. There was much weeping done on that night in the Sharp home. Serious, shoulder-shaking sobbing... a flood of tears. They still harbor a little animosity toward the new couch. Loyal to the end.
We had another women's event at the church. It was really fun. I saw several things that need to be done differently next year. Everyone else seemed to think it was perfect. Jawan and Adam and Kim Hill took care of the music. People had fun, learned new things, and were encouraged. That was great to see and be a part of. Laura Morgan and I were the speakers. It's very hard to be objective about something like that... but all of the comments that I've received were very positive. All I know is that I had a blast speaking. I wasn't scared, even though I was in front of almost a hundred women. It was great. I'd love to do something like that again.
Chris has been taking guitar lessons from Adam Wright. I'm lovin' it. Chris is learning a lot of my favorite songs. Adam is amazing. Really.
Maggie and Ty started communicants class. For those of you not in the PCA, that means they're studying to become communing members of the church. They'll be going thru an 18 week course at the end of which they will sit down with the elders and be interviewed. Then the decision will be made as to whether or not they are truly ready for participation in Communion and church membership. I'll let you know.
Just FYI, Bohemian Rhapsody is my favorite song. There are many songs that I love and enjoy but none compare to BR. It's just so much fun. Just thought you might like to know.
Well the mob just came in, so there'll be no more concentrating for me anytime soon. I'll try to post again soon. Bye.
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
Provision
Sorry it's been so long... things have been a bit hectic. We're working on this year's big women's event at church. It's a little more complicated this year and taking up more of my time. Excuses. Excuses.
I always talk about God providing. He does provide. But lately I've been wondering... maybe it's just semantics, maybe not... but when I think of the word provide, it makes me think of me. What I need. What I want. Me.
My girls have been in need of new dressers for a few months. They have been using very small, plastic dressers. As they have grown, so have their clothes, making it harder for all their stuff to have a home. We haven't had the money for dressers. Then Terri calls me, out of the blue and gives me a beautiful, white wicker dresser and night stand, with 2 mirrors. Wow!
The underpinning on the trailer has been needing to be replaced. It's been that way for months. Mr. Jack called Chris up and offered some extra stuff that he had. It doesn't match perfectly but, hey, it was free.
Brody has been having bronchial spasms and needs breathing treatments. Guess what? Kim has a nebulizer... and the meds.
Over and over God provides for us. But I think we take this provision in too narrow a scope. Yes, God does provide our needs but He does it in the context of His sovereign plan. His provision of a bedroom suite for my girls has eternal roots and outworking. For every one thing that happens, don't you think that He has a million reasons for it? The scope of His plan and purpose is so far beyond our understanding, we don't even consider it.
He has a plan for me. For my daughters. For my trailer. For my little boy. And He also has a plan that encompasses all of creation. All the world and all its peoples. Could one wicker bedroom suite be a part of it?
I don't know for sure, but I suspect the answer is yes. Mind-blowing.
I always talk about God providing. He does provide. But lately I've been wondering... maybe it's just semantics, maybe not... but when I think of the word provide, it makes me think of me. What I need. What I want. Me.
My girls have been in need of new dressers for a few months. They have been using very small, plastic dressers. As they have grown, so have their clothes, making it harder for all their stuff to have a home. We haven't had the money for dressers. Then Terri calls me, out of the blue and gives me a beautiful, white wicker dresser and night stand, with 2 mirrors. Wow!
The underpinning on the trailer has been needing to be replaced. It's been that way for months. Mr. Jack called Chris up and offered some extra stuff that he had. It doesn't match perfectly but, hey, it was free.
Brody has been having bronchial spasms and needs breathing treatments. Guess what? Kim has a nebulizer... and the meds.
Over and over God provides for us. But I think we take this provision in too narrow a scope. Yes, God does provide our needs but He does it in the context of His sovereign plan. His provision of a bedroom suite for my girls has eternal roots and outworking. For every one thing that happens, don't you think that He has a million reasons for it? The scope of His plan and purpose is so far beyond our understanding, we don't even consider it.
He has a plan for me. For my daughters. For my trailer. For my little boy. And He also has a plan that encompasses all of creation. All the world and all its peoples. Could one wicker bedroom suite be a part of it?
I don't know for sure, but I suspect the answer is yes. Mind-blowing.
Monday, February 19, 2007
"Puppy Prozac"
"Puppy Prozac". That was the title of a news segment on television just now. Not kidding.
The heart wrenching story of a depressed greyhound. According to his very earnest owner, he was very excitable and seemed sad. He would bark when someone rang the doorbell or when the phone rang. Huh. Very strange behavior from a dog.
So the vet prescribed Prozac. And now "he's like a whole new dog."
If Prozac seems a little extreme, there are other options. Like holistic medicine. Or accupuncture. No, I am not kidding. They showed footage of a dog getting accupuncture. The owner bragged that he was a very healthy dog. Guess what? So is my dog. And she eats dead animals and licks herself.
It just seemed too absurd. I had to comment. I'm sure there are spiritual lessons there. Like how broken our world is or how lonely people are. But right now, all I can do is shake my head in disbelief.
The heart wrenching story of a depressed greyhound. According to his very earnest owner, he was very excitable and seemed sad. He would bark when someone rang the doorbell or when the phone rang. Huh. Very strange behavior from a dog.
So the vet prescribed Prozac. And now "he's like a whole new dog."
If Prozac seems a little extreme, there are other options. Like holistic medicine. Or accupuncture. No, I am not kidding. They showed footage of a dog getting accupuncture. The owner bragged that he was a very healthy dog. Guess what? So is my dog. And she eats dead animals and licks herself.
It just seemed too absurd. I had to comment. I'm sure there are spiritual lessons there. Like how broken our world is or how lonely people are. But right now, all I can do is shake my head in disbelief.
Sunday, February 18, 2007
I Got People
As you saw in my last post, I struggle sometimes with insecurities. And it is a struggle. I think I post my struggles more than anything else. Why is that?
I don't struggle with it like I used to... I don't hate myself. I guess I'm beginning to see myself thru the eyes of the Gospel and I like what I see. I can accept myself because Christ has accepted me. I can love myself because Christ has loved me. And then He gives me family...
I hate to even clarify "church family" because I feel like some might dismiss it. Because my church family is unlike anything I have experienced this side of heaven. I know that to some, church people are nice folks who bring you food when someone dies or maybe say Hi in the grocery store. But mine is very different. My church family includes people in California, Georgia, Mississippi, London. Let's call them my 'people'. Like that tax commercial. "I got people." They are deeper than friends but have no actual blood relation. There is a mystical connection.
And we're not family because we have so much in common. We are, in fact, quite diverse. I have people who are very trendy and some who are anything but. I have people who are loud and witty and some who are shy and reserved. Very different. But they are my people. They belong to me and I to them. I have people in their 80s and people barely in their teens. And I talk and connect with them all. I guess that what I'm talking about is unity. Huh. Unity.
We had a potluck dinner after church today to say good-bye to the Carters, one of our own who have moved. Jon and Betty, Joanna and Emma. (Betty is a writer. Lovely books. You can find them on Amazon I think... Betty Smartt-Carter.) Anyways.... they are leaving us but only in geography.
As I looked around today, I was struck again at the beauty of the love of Christ. I could go sit at any and every table and be accepted and loved. They all know my faults and sins and struggles but as they have faults and sins and struggles of their own, they accept me as I am. They know that God is bigger than our pain and problems and they let love cover a multitude of sin.
For those who want a visual... I looked around at one point and this is what I saw:
Steve and Laura dancing while the Foushee's and Carter's looked on, laughing.
Jordan giving Brody a piece of chocolate cake.
Adam and Ms. Merrell deep in conversation.
Jessica and Connie eating together.
KimHill and Chris eating and laughing.
About a million kids at the other end of the gym, running and playing.
Jennifer Jensen and Laura Barnett walking towards me to talk.
I heard rather than saw Burt laughing.
Altogether, a shining moment of Shalom... the way things ought to be.
I don't struggle with it like I used to... I don't hate myself. I guess I'm beginning to see myself thru the eyes of the Gospel and I like what I see. I can accept myself because Christ has accepted me. I can love myself because Christ has loved me. And then He gives me family...
I hate to even clarify "church family" because I feel like some might dismiss it. Because my church family is unlike anything I have experienced this side of heaven. I know that to some, church people are nice folks who bring you food when someone dies or maybe say Hi in the grocery store. But mine is very different. My church family includes people in California, Georgia, Mississippi, London. Let's call them my 'people'. Like that tax commercial. "I got people." They are deeper than friends but have no actual blood relation. There is a mystical connection.
And we're not family because we have so much in common. We are, in fact, quite diverse. I have people who are very trendy and some who are anything but. I have people who are loud and witty and some who are shy and reserved. Very different. But they are my people. They belong to me and I to them. I have people in their 80s and people barely in their teens. And I talk and connect with them all. I guess that what I'm talking about is unity. Huh. Unity.
We had a potluck dinner after church today to say good-bye to the Carters, one of our own who have moved. Jon and Betty, Joanna and Emma. (Betty is a writer. Lovely books. You can find them on Amazon I think... Betty Smartt-Carter.) Anyways.... they are leaving us but only in geography.
As I looked around today, I was struck again at the beauty of the love of Christ. I could go sit at any and every table and be accepted and loved. They all know my faults and sins and struggles but as they have faults and sins and struggles of their own, they accept me as I am. They know that God is bigger than our pain and problems and they let love cover a multitude of sin.
For those who want a visual... I looked around at one point and this is what I saw:
Steve and Laura dancing while the Foushee's and Carter's looked on, laughing.
Jordan giving Brody a piece of chocolate cake.
Adam and Ms. Merrell deep in conversation.
Jessica and Connie eating together.
KimHill and Chris eating and laughing.
About a million kids at the other end of the gym, running and playing.
Jennifer Jensen and Laura Barnett walking towards me to talk.
I heard rather than saw Burt laughing.
Altogether, a shining moment of Shalom... the way things ought to be.
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Know Thyself
There are certain things that I know about myself. Characteristics that are as much a part of me as my curly hair.
1. Some mornings I wake up with an excessive number of words in my brain just waiting to be used. I cannot make them go away or cease to exist. I talk. Sometimes too much. But God has blessed me with a husband who loves that about me. Once, when we were newly married, I realized that I had been talking and not letting Chris get a word in. So I stopped, looked at him and said, "Okay. Your turn." He looked at me, grinned and replied, "Uh-uh. Nope... that's why I married you. So I'd never have to talk again." He didn't mean it bad. He genuinely loves that about me.
2. I am clumsy. Painfully so. It takes a great deal of mental concentration to not hurt myself on a daily basis. I've learned how to do other things while I'm being aware of the steps I'm descending or the ground I'm walking over. But I've learned to concentrate a certain amount of energy to being aware of my clumsiness and compensate for it. Chris says that I'm so focused on where I'm going I don't pay attention to how I get there.
3. I lose things. I don't pay attention to what I'm doing... see previous paragraph... I lay things down and walk away. I've grown out of it a bit over the years. But papers still elude me. I cannot keep up with little scraps of paper. That's one reason I love computers. I've never once lost my CPU.
4. I will never be "the best" at anything. No matter what it is, someone in my sphere of aquaintances will be better at it than I am. I may be good at lots of things... but I'll never be the best. I've learned to accept that fact. It's okay.
These are the very things that made me hate myself growing up. I felt like an idiot or a freak. My family teased me or was annoyed by me. To this day, a lot of my extended family completely do not hear me when I speak.... they're just used to tuning me out I guess. I refuse to let Chris buy me nice jewelry. He tried once... I lost it. I still hate myself for that. I enjoy my CZ jewels.
I want to be perfect so badly. I hate feeling like a doof. I hate the sometimes lingering feeling that when I leave a room, someone rolls their eyes. Why is that?
I think that it is, in part, my spirit crying out for shalom... the way things ought to be. I was created for perfection. I was created for wholeness. But I do not live in a perfect, whole world. Therefore, I am out of place. If I know that I was created for something else, shouldn't I feel like a fish out of water? Isn't it okay for me to long for heaven, for the way things ought to be? And in the meantime, can I accept, by God's grace, who I am?
Chris is such a visual aid for God's grace. He loves that I talk a lot. He takes care of me when I hurt myself... never once teasing me. He has never lectured me when I've lost something. He tells me that I am the perfect woman for him. I experience these things with him and am pushed to accept the same love, only vastly deeper, from God.
God knows me. God loves me. He is not disappointed in me. He has never rolled his eyes or laughed at my expense. I am his bride and He gives His all to me. Literally.
1. Some mornings I wake up with an excessive number of words in my brain just waiting to be used. I cannot make them go away or cease to exist. I talk. Sometimes too much. But God has blessed me with a husband who loves that about me. Once, when we were newly married, I realized that I had been talking and not letting Chris get a word in. So I stopped, looked at him and said, "Okay. Your turn." He looked at me, grinned and replied, "Uh-uh. Nope... that's why I married you. So I'd never have to talk again." He didn't mean it bad. He genuinely loves that about me.
2. I am clumsy. Painfully so. It takes a great deal of mental concentration to not hurt myself on a daily basis. I've learned how to do other things while I'm being aware of the steps I'm descending or the ground I'm walking over. But I've learned to concentrate a certain amount of energy to being aware of my clumsiness and compensate for it. Chris says that I'm so focused on where I'm going I don't pay attention to how I get there.
3. I lose things. I don't pay attention to what I'm doing... see previous paragraph... I lay things down and walk away. I've grown out of it a bit over the years. But papers still elude me. I cannot keep up with little scraps of paper. That's one reason I love computers. I've never once lost my CPU.
4. I will never be "the best" at anything. No matter what it is, someone in my sphere of aquaintances will be better at it than I am. I may be good at lots of things... but I'll never be the best. I've learned to accept that fact. It's okay.
These are the very things that made me hate myself growing up. I felt like an idiot or a freak. My family teased me or was annoyed by me. To this day, a lot of my extended family completely do not hear me when I speak.... they're just used to tuning me out I guess. I refuse to let Chris buy me nice jewelry. He tried once... I lost it. I still hate myself for that. I enjoy my CZ jewels.
I want to be perfect so badly. I hate feeling like a doof. I hate the sometimes lingering feeling that when I leave a room, someone rolls their eyes. Why is that?
I think that it is, in part, my spirit crying out for shalom... the way things ought to be. I was created for perfection. I was created for wholeness. But I do not live in a perfect, whole world. Therefore, I am out of place. If I know that I was created for something else, shouldn't I feel like a fish out of water? Isn't it okay for me to long for heaven, for the way things ought to be? And in the meantime, can I accept, by God's grace, who I am?
Chris is such a visual aid for God's grace. He loves that I talk a lot. He takes care of me when I hurt myself... never once teasing me. He has never lectured me when I've lost something. He tells me that I am the perfect woman for him. I experience these things with him and am pushed to accept the same love, only vastly deeper, from God.
God knows me. God loves me. He is not disappointed in me. He has never rolled his eyes or laughed at my expense. I am his bride and He gives His all to me. Literally.
Thursday, February 08, 2007
I Am Fat... And It Is Good
I met my first weight loss goal tonight.
I have lost 10% of my body weight. Which, for me, means that I am no longer obese... I am only fat. So applaud me. Affirm me. Give me cheers. But before all that, praise God with me.
This has been such an exercise in grace. I am weak but he is strong. There have been so many epiphanies. I have been shown so many idols, so many wrong desires. I have learned that when I do wonderfully, I am proud. When I fail miserably, I am unbelieving. I have come to understand more fully that in my natural state, I am a failure. But in my redeemed state, I am beautiful and whole and loved and enjoyed.
I still have a long journey ahead of me... but I cannot give up. I cannot give in. God has brought me thru the valleys (or should I say the plateau?). He is all I have. He is all I need. He is all I want. He is all.
I have lost 10% of my body weight. Which, for me, means that I am no longer obese... I am only fat. So applaud me. Affirm me. Give me cheers. But before all that, praise God with me.
This has been such an exercise in grace. I am weak but he is strong. There have been so many epiphanies. I have been shown so many idols, so many wrong desires. I have learned that when I do wonderfully, I am proud. When I fail miserably, I am unbelieving. I have come to understand more fully that in my natural state, I am a failure. But in my redeemed state, I am beautiful and whole and loved and enjoyed.
I still have a long journey ahead of me... but I cannot give up. I cannot give in. God has brought me thru the valleys (or should I say the plateau?). He is all I have. He is all I need. He is all I want. He is all.
Monday, January 29, 2007
Random Thoughts
I haven't blogged in a week. I've been hoping to have one long post but instead I'll have to settle for one mismatched, incoherant post.
Sometimes, trying to take my children places is like trying to transport convicts of an insane asylum from one facility to another without the use of medication, guns or physical violence.
We're watching Fiddler On The Roof right now. It's such a great movie. Sad in parts. I love the way Tevia talks to God constantly. I love the way he lets go of his traditions/comforts for the sakes of those he loves.
When I lose .8 pounds I will be fat. Not obese. Woo-hoo. Can't wait for weigh in. Although with the way I'm having to work my leg, building the muscle, I might have gained weight. Patience is so hard.
I made a great supper tonight. At least Chris and the kids thought so. Chicken fettucine alfredo with broccoli and cheese sticks. Yum. Chris put it best... he said that I'm a great cook when I'm in the mood to do it.
I'm very sleepy. Wish I could go to bed. Maybe in a couple of hours I can.
Sometimes, trying to take my children places is like trying to transport convicts of an insane asylum from one facility to another without the use of medication, guns or physical violence.
We're watching Fiddler On The Roof right now. It's such a great movie. Sad in parts. I love the way Tevia talks to God constantly. I love the way he lets go of his traditions/comforts for the sakes of those he loves.
When I lose .8 pounds I will be fat. Not obese. Woo-hoo. Can't wait for weigh in. Although with the way I'm having to work my leg, building the muscle, I might have gained weight. Patience is so hard.
I made a great supper tonight. At least Chris and the kids thought so. Chicken fettucine alfredo with broccoli and cheese sticks. Yum. Chris put it best... he said that I'm a great cook when I'm in the mood to do it.
I'm very sleepy. Wish I could go to bed. Maybe in a couple of hours I can.
Monday, January 22, 2007
Addison's Blog
Addison is the second son of our pastor. He (Addison) is working as a ministry intern at a church in New Zealand. Very, very cool!
I've put a link to his blog in my link list. ---> Check it out.
He's very funny in a highly intellectual way. Look for his post titled "Pictures". Amazing!!!! He's very artistic. You'll enjoy it.
P.S. If you'd like, he's always in need of support. Prayers and money.
I've put a link to his blog in my link list. ---> Check it out.
He's very funny in a highly intellectual way. Look for his post titled "Pictures". Amazing!!!! He's very artistic. You'll enjoy it.
P.S. If you'd like, he's always in need of support. Prayers and money.
Friday, January 19, 2007
"Deep Thoughts"
I got a book today. Deep Thoughts by Jack Handey. Very funny.
Here's a quote:
"If trees could scream, would we be so cavalier about cutting them down? We might, if they screamed all the time, for no good reason."
Not sure why, but that makes me laugh every time I read it.
Here's a quote:
"If trees could scream, would we be so cavalier about cutting them down? We might, if they screamed all the time, for no good reason."
Not sure why, but that makes me laugh every time I read it.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Things I've Heard Part 2
It seems that some of you enjoyed my last list. So I thought that I'd do another.
1. A man can't get any sleep around here with all this racket. - Ellas
2. Mama, Ellas got his mouth shut in the door! - Gracie
3. It's okay Mama. I'm not on fire. - Brody
4. What's KimHill's last name? - Gracie
5. Who put my spoons on top of the refrigerator? - me
6. Why is there neosporin on Gracie's toothbrush? - me
7. Oops, I gotta go potty! - Brody
8. Mama, you've lost so much weight I can finally put my arms all the way around you! -Maggie
9. I know it's kinda cold... but can we go on a bike ride today? - Ty ... it was 35 degrees out.
10. Maggie, are you putting sugar in your milk? - me... in an appalled tone of voice
And last but not least, a snippet of conversation...
(at the indoor McDonald's playground)
Grace - This place looks like the Light House.
Me - The Light House?
Grace - Yeah. You know where the President lives?
Me- That would be the White House.
Grace - Oh.
1. A man can't get any sleep around here with all this racket. - Ellas
2. Mama, Ellas got his mouth shut in the door! - Gracie
3. It's okay Mama. I'm not on fire. - Brody
4. What's KimHill's last name? - Gracie
5. Who put my spoons on top of the refrigerator? - me
6. Why is there neosporin on Gracie's toothbrush? - me
7. Oops, I gotta go potty! - Brody
8. Mama, you've lost so much weight I can finally put my arms all the way around you! -Maggie
9. I know it's kinda cold... but can we go on a bike ride today? - Ty ... it was 35 degrees out.
10. Maggie, are you putting sugar in your milk? - me... in an appalled tone of voice
And last but not least, a snippet of conversation...
(at the indoor McDonald's playground)
Grace - This place looks like the Light House.
Me - The Light House?
Grace - Yeah. You know where the President lives?
Me- That would be the White House.
Grace - Oh.
Sunday, January 14, 2007
All Mine
My husband is the strongest man that I know. Yes, he is physically strong but that's not what I mean. I'm talking about his character.
If you talk to him, he'll tell you all about his sin and shortcomings. And he will tell you the truth, which is that any good thing about him is due to the power and grace of God given to him. He knows his failings well. But I see the overall picture of him:
He feels things so deeply. If someone else is hurting, he hurts with them.
He loves more deeply than any other human being that I have ever met.
He daily sacrifices his own life and comfort for me.
He longs to serve Christ and constantly feels inadequate, both of which are great things to feel.
He takes his God-given responsibilities very seriously.
I love him very, very much. So much that it feels like a physical ache in my chest.
Now, lest you think he's perfect... I'll give a couple of his faults. ;o)
He repeats things a lot. Especially questions. And the more important the question, the more he repeats it. "Did you pay the tithe?"... "I forget... did you tithe this week?" ... "Have we tithed lately?" (all asked within the space of one morning)
If he is assembling and/or building something, don't even try to talk to him. In that moment, nothing else exists.
His ability to process information is directly proportionate to the number of hours of sleep that he's had. For example, if he is functioning off of ... say 4 hours of sleep and I ask him what he wants to eat for supper, I receive the blank stare as his mind gradually catches up. After about 15 seconds of the stare, he will blink, refocus and ask, "Huh?" At which point, I repeat the question and he stares for about 10 seconds. At this point, his brain indicates that I have asked a completely ridiculous question and he replies, "I don't care, baby. Whatever you want is fine." If I come back in 30 minutes, chances are he won't even remember that I asked it.
Enough teasing him. He is exquisitely wonderful and meticulously loving and mine. All mine.
If you talk to him, he'll tell you all about his sin and shortcomings. And he will tell you the truth, which is that any good thing about him is due to the power and grace of God given to him. He knows his failings well. But I see the overall picture of him:
He feels things so deeply. If someone else is hurting, he hurts with them.
He loves more deeply than any other human being that I have ever met.
He daily sacrifices his own life and comfort for me.
He longs to serve Christ and constantly feels inadequate, both of which are great things to feel.
He takes his God-given responsibilities very seriously.
I love him very, very much. So much that it feels like a physical ache in my chest.
Now, lest you think he's perfect... I'll give a couple of his faults. ;o)
He repeats things a lot. Especially questions. And the more important the question, the more he repeats it. "Did you pay the tithe?"... "I forget... did you tithe this week?" ... "Have we tithed lately?" (all asked within the space of one morning)
If he is assembling and/or building something, don't even try to talk to him. In that moment, nothing else exists.
His ability to process information is directly proportionate to the number of hours of sleep that he's had. For example, if he is functioning off of ... say 4 hours of sleep and I ask him what he wants to eat for supper, I receive the blank stare as his mind gradually catches up. After about 15 seconds of the stare, he will blink, refocus and ask, "Huh?" At which point, I repeat the question and he stares for about 10 seconds. At this point, his brain indicates that I have asked a completely ridiculous question and he replies, "I don't care, baby. Whatever you want is fine." If I come back in 30 minutes, chances are he won't even remember that I asked it.
Enough teasing him. He is exquisitely wonderful and meticulously loving and mine. All mine.
Thursday, January 11, 2007
Today I feel like a big, fat failure. A flop. A complete waste of space.
I know that I've gained a few pounds... I leave to go weigh-in in a few minutes. I've lost almost 20 pounds so far, but this week has been bad. I've eaten just like I used to. Some of it might be PMS but not all of it. I dread the scales tonight.
I've worked getting the kids' unit study ready. Fun stuff. Stuff they can have fun with. They hate it. Whine whine whine. Why do I try so hard?
I put so much pressure on myself. I feel it keenly. It's a heavy yoke I put on voluntarily. Why?
I am free. Why do I enslave myself?
I know that I've gained a few pounds... I leave to go weigh-in in a few minutes. I've lost almost 20 pounds so far, but this week has been bad. I've eaten just like I used to. Some of it might be PMS but not all of it. I dread the scales tonight.
I've worked getting the kids' unit study ready. Fun stuff. Stuff they can have fun with. They hate it. Whine whine whine. Why do I try so hard?
I put so much pressure on myself. I feel it keenly. It's a heavy yoke I put on voluntarily. Why?
I am free. Why do I enslave myself?
Monday, December 25, 2006
Shooting Stars
I always feel like I have to check my email before I can blog. But seeing as how I probably have 100 emails... I'm skipping email and going to straight to the blog.
My head hurts. I'm sleepy. My knee is swollen. Blah Blah Blah. But I've really missed my blog.
There was a wonderful meteor shower here last week. Amazing. I knew nothing about it, hadn't seen anything on the news or anything. But on the way home from Kim's we saw three shooting stars. Which is very weird. Maybe one but never three. So... when we got home I checked the net and sure enough, the biggest meteor shower of 2006 was about to really get started.
We did our evening chores, put on our ski gear, grabbed our blankets and turned out the lights. We spread our blankets in the middle of the front yard facing east and snuggled up. Wow! We saw big ones, small ones, fast ones, slow ones. Blue ones, green ones, a red one and lots of white ones. We stayed out until after 11:00 watching the sky.
Shooting stars are so unneccesary. They accomplish no grand purpose. But their beauty is captivating. You look and you look, watching hopefully. Waiting for your chance to have your breath stolen away. And when it happens... sometimes you squeal. Sometimes you scream and sometimes you just catch your breath. But always...always, you are amazed and delighted.
God's love for me is so like that. He doesn't have to love me, but He does. He doesn't have to bless me with beauty or the ability to enjoy it, but He does. He gives me gifts of pure delight. He sings over me with love. His love sprinkles down from the heavens on me as I breath out my thankfulness. Adria Ellis said once concerning God the Spirit, "He is around me and over me. He is beside me and under me. And I am immersed in Him." He gives me these glimpses of His beauty until I can be with Him face to face.
And I watch for Him. Expectantly. Eagerly. Breathlessly. Come, Jesus. Come quickly.
My head hurts. I'm sleepy. My knee is swollen. Blah Blah Blah. But I've really missed my blog.
There was a wonderful meteor shower here last week. Amazing. I knew nothing about it, hadn't seen anything on the news or anything. But on the way home from Kim's we saw three shooting stars. Which is very weird. Maybe one but never three. So... when we got home I checked the net and sure enough, the biggest meteor shower of 2006 was about to really get started.
We did our evening chores, put on our ski gear, grabbed our blankets and turned out the lights. We spread our blankets in the middle of the front yard facing east and snuggled up. Wow! We saw big ones, small ones, fast ones, slow ones. Blue ones, green ones, a red one and lots of white ones. We stayed out until after 11:00 watching the sky.
Shooting stars are so unneccesary. They accomplish no grand purpose. But their beauty is captivating. You look and you look, watching hopefully. Waiting for your chance to have your breath stolen away. And when it happens... sometimes you squeal. Sometimes you scream and sometimes you just catch your breath. But always...always, you are amazed and delighted.
God's love for me is so like that. He doesn't have to love me, but He does. He doesn't have to bless me with beauty or the ability to enjoy it, but He does. He gives me gifts of pure delight. He sings over me with love. His love sprinkles down from the heavens on me as I breath out my thankfulness. Adria Ellis said once concerning God the Spirit, "He is around me and over me. He is beside me and under me. And I am immersed in Him." He gives me these glimpses of His beauty until I can be with Him face to face.
And I watch for Him. Expectantly. Eagerly. Breathlessly. Come, Jesus. Come quickly.
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