General Observations from Today

1. Never buy cereal that's been taped shut with Scotch tape. This rule applies to many other products as well.

2. Always look at 2 things before you sit down to use the bathroom in a house with children or men in it: the status of the toilet paper roll (70% chance that it's out) and the seat (60% chance of sprinkles)

3. Carefully check pictures of any vacation spot that calls itself a "resort". This word is used far too frequently nowadays. You could end up at a dude ranch in north Alabama.

4. Always seize the opportunity to stay up way too late talking to your best friend, especially if that best friend is your husband.

5. Cereal tastes really good when eaten late at night.

6. Children should never attempt a jump of more than 2 feet especially from a leather chair to a metal bed.

7. Starbucks tastes better when enjoyed with your friends.

8. Super glue works really well on gashes to the skull.

9. Never change routine abruptly on a high strung, dramatic child.

10. Tapestries costing $750 are not as heavy as you would think.

That's really all. Just thought I'd share.

A Couple of Thoughts on The Gospel

I cannot imagine my childhood without church. My mom took me to church when I was 5 days old. Therefore, I cannot remember the first time I went. My kids are the same way. Only they remember only Community. If I sit here for a minute, I might could count the number of churches that I went to growing up..... 6 or 7, I think.

We went to mostly Southern Baptist churches with a random charismatic one and a dabble into Assembly of God. Presbyterians might as well have been aliens for all I knew of them. I became a Presbyterian, of my own volition, at the age of 17. And I've been one ever since. So it's a little strange to think that all my kids have ever known is PCA. I'm glad... it's just so different from my own childhood. The same pastor married their parents (Chris and I, for those of you who just got confused) and baptized all 4 of them. I have no recollection of most of my pastors' names. Anyway...

As Burt was preaching this morning, a contrast suddenly came to mind: the difference in the definition of the gospel in my life from childhood to now.

As a child, "the gospel" seemed like a forced march. Obligatory, straightforward, dull and not a little forbidding. Very clear cut: Jesus-died-on-the-cross-to-save-me-from-my-sins-and-if-you-don't-ask-Him-to-be-your-savior-you'll-die-and-go-to-hell. *said all in one breath* Simple. Dry. A little nebulous. And not at all compelling. It's what you told people to 'get them saved'.

But today, I realized that my response was vastly different. It's been a long time since I felt that way about the gospel. In knowing that my sin is deeper than I can grasp, I can begin to see the incomprehensible enormity of God's love for me. In knowing that He delights in me, that His anger has been satisfied on the cross, I can find my satisfaction in Him. In knowing that the penalty of all my sins has been paid, I can revel in His grace to me. And in knowing that "He who did not spare His own Son, but gave him up for us all - how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things?", I can cling to him for my sanctification.

The gospel means freedom. It is gentle, strong, deep, vast, powerful. It is the story of what Christ has done for us. He had no sin and therefore, deserved no punishment. Yet, he gave up his freedom and glory to take on the hideousness of my sin. He took the physical punishment and the agony of being separated from his Father. He exchanged my sin and guilt for his perfect righteousness. All because of his great love for me. Me, an imperfect, lying, arrogant, cheating sinner.

Before, it was a formula. Now the gospel is the only truth. And the truth will set you free. A freedom from the dictatorship of self.

Have you been to see Adam's band perform yet? Why not? I mean, do you really think that's a good reason?

I've seen them a couple of times and have had a ball. If you get the slightest chance to see Adam perform, take it. You won't be disappointed. I promise.

Act of Congress has been nominated for Birmingham's best country/bluegrass/americana band in Birmingham Weekly magazine. You can vote for them here: http://www.bhamweekly.com/article.php?article_id=00662

Here are some videos of the kids skiing.

Ode to Brandon

Here's to Brandon. Thanks to him, I now have a functioning keyboard. Hurrah!!! Three cheers for Brandon. Hip hip hurray! Hip hip hurray! Hip hip hurray! To all the three people who have been missing the more frequent posts, give Brandon a high five next time you see him.


I'll actually post something tomorrow. I'm exhausted right now.

Skiing

Well, we're home. It was a lovely trip.

We skied all day Tuesday. It was pretty icy at first but conditions improved over the course of the day. But by afternoon, we were starting to see bare spots on the slopes. But it was still very fun and ski-able. Brody, Gracie and Ellas went to ski school and by the end of the day were skiing pretty well. Gracie was able to get on and off the lift by herself, ski down the blue run without falling and stop with no problems. Brody was able to come down the green run with minimal face plants. He doesn't snow plow. Nope, he turns. I was amazed.

At the end of Tuesday, we were sure that there would be no more skiing. The bare patches were too big. So we spent the evening recounting the day, moment by moment, laughing and acting it out. Chris and I very deliberately tried to teach the kids to be thankful for what we got and not grumpy cause we couldn't have more.

Wednesday we woke up late, ate a leisurely breakfast and decided to head over to Grandfather Mountain. Then the coolest thing happened: it started to snow. We spent part of the afternoon in Boone and by the time we got back to Beech everything looked like a winter wonderland. We drove straight to the slopes to check it out. Chris and Scott went to see about conditions and came back nearly frozen. It was horribly foggy with really strong winds and lots of ice. Oh yeah, and it was about 10 degrees with a windchill of below zero. So Beech was out. Instead, we went to App. Ski Mountain. They have much shorter runs but a buttload of snow making equipment. Great coverage, cheaper, not too crowded and warmer. It was 19 degrees. But the wind was still strong.

We went night skiing and had a blast! The best thing about it was the fact that it was so unexpected. We had no plans to ski anymore and then were able to. By the end of the night, Brody was skiing down the green by himself without falling. And he laughed the whole time. "Momma, look! I can go speed!" (That means fast.) Gracie went down the black with Brendan a couple of times and had a great time.

At one point, Bren was going to fly past me on the blue run. I could see him out of the corner of my eye. Just as he got even with me, the wind started blasting. It blew so hard that it almost brought us to a stop. We looked at each other and died laughing. It was like something out of a movie. Then the wind died down and off he flew.

As you can tell, we had a great time. I'd never skied in my life until Chris. He taught me how when we were just dating. It's so much fun. And to see my kids fly past me, waving, yelling "Hey Momma!" is somehow very gratifying. I'm not sure why.

And if I may brag just for a moment.... I'm the only one who never fell. There is a story about the slow-witted lift operator but that's for another time. Bren says I didn't fall because I only go about 2 mph. I told him that's not the point... the point is... I did not fall.

When I finally get a working keyboard, I'll post some pictures. Until then....

Thoughts on Blogging

No, I don't have my keyboard repaired. I begged and Frank let me borrow his laptop. So, I'm sitting beside my own computer, using his. Lovely.

I have noticed how creative I can get. For instance, I wanted to watch some clips of Jane Eyre on youtube. But how can I do that if I cannot type? Well, I found a link in my faves to Pride and Predjudice. I copied and pasted that into IMDB and did a 6 degrees of separation until I found the name Jane Eyre. Then I copied and pasted that into youtube (also in my faves). Voila! Done.

Changing subjects...

We leave in the morning to go skiing. I'm all packed except for the refrigerated food. My house is clean enough. My van is disgusting though... I must go clean it in a minute. I packed my knee brace. Then verified it was packed. Then had Amber verify that it was packed. I'll probably check it again before we leave. I'm scared I'll leave it and then not be able to ski. And no, KimHill, I am NOT OCD. No. Definitely not. No. Not OCD.

I've missed my blogging community. I've been here reading and yet unable to communicate. I really do love to blog. I heard Kim tell someone the other day that blogging is a great way to get to know other people. And I must agree. Of course, some people are just smart asses. (MattD) But you get used to them. ;o) Overall, it's like extending your family. I like feeling connected to them.

I've added 2 new links. Brandon and Scott H. Brandon has excellent posts but lacks blogging confidence, thus few excellent post to be read. Scott seems to show promise. Several posts in a short time. I've put them at the top of the list so that you can check them out. Come on, Brandon, get to blogging. We all laugh at you secretly anyway. So you might as well give us some material.

I cannot blog with someone reading over my shoulder. Like Ty is doing right now. It blocks the flow. There, he's gone.

Chris and I watched Forrest Gump again yesterday. It's been years since we last watched it and I think I'd forgotten how much I like it. It deals with pain and loss and love and loneliness is such a real and true way. It has great elements to it. And as I watch it I am struck by how different things could be with the love of Christ. Self-hatred replaced with grace. Despair replaced with mercy. And love really can overcome even the worst pain.

I completely redid the tornado closet. (Called the tornado closet because it is big and we hide from tornadoes there not because it looks like a tornado hit it. Which, incidentally, it did.) Anyway, I emptied it, put in a cabinet, organized the movies (which my OCD men loved), got rid of junk that had been hiding in there for 6 years and generally, made it useful space again. I give no promises as to how long it will last. If there is one thing I know about myself, it is this: I am not a naturally organized person. I wish that I was but I'm just not. Therefore my life is a series of clean-ups, mess-ups, clean-ups, mess-ups... you get the idea. It will always be that way. I will never wake up one morning and be my sister. I can only do my best.

I think I'll jog over and post on the COWS blog.

Very annoyed right now. My keyboard port on my computer is broken, thus no ability to type. Grrrr. So I'm at the church, impeding ministry, so that I can post a blog.

And now that I'm here, I feel pressured to hurry up and now cannot thing of a stinkin thing to say. Hmmm.

We went to the Act of Congress concert last night. Took the kids. And we all had the best time. Brody loved it.

But now G is making me get off the computer. He is so mean to me.

Mr. Darcy

I must confess: I'm a little in love with Mr. Darcy. As a literary character, he can't be beaten. Quiet, brooding, misunderstood, handsome, rich. Hmmm-mmm.

(for those of you who have no idea who I'm talking about: Mr. Darcy is from Pride and Prejudice)

Anyway, I have loved P&P since the first time I read it in high school. I was the only one to actually read it at first, everyone else thought it was lame. That is, until I started to rave about it. After that, I think some of the guys even read it. I loved the tension, the romance, the strength of the characters. I read it and fell in love.

I was completely taken in by Wickham. (poor Lizzie) I was annoyed by Mrs. Bennett. ( "Oh my poor nerves") I was cracked up by Mr. Bennett. (he's so superior and sarcastic) I wanted to strangle Lydia. (stupid girl) I recognized a little of myself in Lizzie. (think before you speak) But above all, I wanted to marry Mr. Darcy. He was so strong.

And then I did. There are so many similarities in my relationship with Chris. I'll list them.
1. I despised Chris when I first met him. He was arrogant.
2. I thought I knew everything.
3. I was dating a "Wickham" when Chris and I met. Humiliating.
4. My mother didn't like Chris either.
5. Chris' family was much more educated and wealthier than mine. His great grandfather was
the first mayor of Leeds. He has doctors and engineers in his family. I come from farmers and coal miners.
6. When Chris asked me out for the first time, I didn't even realize it was a date. He was so far above me, it never crossed my mind that he would be interested in me.
7. Once we really knew each other, it was completely obvious that we were made for each other.
8. Chris is a deep thinker and prone to being misunderstood.
9. He was the only man that I ever dated. The rest were all boys.
10. Chris is handsome. Alas, he is not rich.

I'm sure that I could go on and on but I won't bore you any more.

The only cinematic telling of the book that pleases me is the BBC mini-series version. It's almost 6 hours long and gets much of its dialogue directly from the book. Maggie and I watch it together. Probably too much. At least 3 or 4 times a year. Just the thought of it makes me sigh with supressed pleasure.

So now I have the joy of watching my sweet daughter fall in love with Mr. Darcy. As we watch the last hour of the mini-series, we have the exact same goofy smile on our face. Such a great story!

What I Like

I like music.

I like skiing.

I like chocolate.

I like warm quilts on a cold morning.

I like good books.

I like smiling people.

I like comfy sweaters.

I like hot showers.

I like homemade tacos.

I like a windy beach.

I like strong hugs.

I like the smell of baby powder.

I like Adam's music.

I like sitting on my porch swing.

I like pink sunsets.

I like listening to Chris' heartbeat.

I like the internet.

I like calculators.

I like soft pillows.

I like Impressionist paintings.

I like chic flicks.

I like good jokes.

I like sarcasm.

I like our church staff.

I like motorcycles.

I like having warm feet.

I like my mp3 player.

I like the sound the keyboard makes when I type this.

I like pea gravel for the same reason.

I like postcards.

I like random lists.

I like scented candles.

I like sunglasses.

I like PBS.

I like lots more things.

Etc.

Longings and Heavy Sighs and Thankfulness

I wish that I was perfect. I wish that I was never lazy or mean or self-involved. I know that Ty gets aggravated with me sometimes. He just can't understand how I can not mind the house being messy. Because it really bothers him. He can't sleep if his room is messed up. And I can sleep even if I can't walk around to my side of the bed. I just crawl over.

I wish, in some ways, that I could be more like my son. Thoughtful, organized, kind, tenderhearted. I wish that I could do math in my head like he can. I hate that I disappoint him.

But, at the same time, I wish he could be a little more like me. Not shy, flexible... ummm... I guess that's it.

We were trying to remember the last time he got a spanking. We honestly couldn't, it's been that long. But today, I grounded him. Deliberately disobeyed. I asked him tonight why. "I guess I just didn't trust you. I'm sorry, Momma."

It's hard when your kids get older. They start thinking and stuff. Then they recognize that I'm not always right. But, here comes the rub, they still have to obey. They don't trust that I have a reason for what I say. And sometimes, quite honestly, I'm just not trustworthy. I don't think about what they're saying or asking, I just do what's easiest for me at the time. And then when they defy, I still have to discipline. Hard.

Most of the time, I do have a reason for what I'm saying.
"Get your coat and get in the van."
"But it's not cold. It's 56 degrees."
Now, I know, from looking online that the temperature is going to drop while we're gone. Therefore the 'get your coat' comment. But I don't always explain myself. I shouldn't have to. Obey. It's that simple. Sometimes I do explain, but not always, just to make them trust me.

I recognize myself in my children. God gives me instruction and I buck. I try to avoid obedience. Why? Because I don't trust that He has a plan and knows what He's talking about. I don't believe that He really loves me. I mean, why should I carry a coat of it's warm? And then I freeze my butt off, spiritually speaking, because I didn't trust.

Which brings me to the purpose of discipline. God doesn't punish us. He disciplines. I discipline my children. Why? Not to make them miserable for disobeying but to remind them to trust me. To bring them back to me when they've gone their own way. God brings me back to Himself over and over and over. I wander off, He brings me back. He really is my Father.

Anyway, this is just what's on my heart right now. Longings and heavy sighs and thankfulness. I long for perfection. I sigh with disappointment. Then I sigh with relief when my Father runs to me, kisses me, kills the fattened calf for me. And then, I am thankful. Oh, to see the same thankfulness in my children.

Slumber Party

KimHill and the boys slept over last night. I had a really good time. I know that Kim was on edge because her children wake up in the wee hours of the morning. (Silas woke up @4:30 this morning) But I wasn't bothered at all. My kids did wake up much earlier than usual but that's okay.

It was nice having company today. We played Mexican Train with the kids. (They love it too. And Kim discovered why Chris should never play games.) We drank coffee. She helped me clean my house. We listened to music. And best of all, we talked. We talked about our fears, our dreams, our kids, God's Sovereignty and Providence. Where will we be in five years? Ten years? One year? How willing are we to be used by God? Hmmm. All very good questions.

It's good to be loved. It's even better to be loved by someone who knows your sin and weirdness. No worries about scaring them away. Because what you soon discover is that they're just as sinful and weird as you are. Birds of a feather. Knowing my own sin makes it much easier to know someone else's. I can't judge them without judging myself.

Thanks for hanging out with me today, KimHill. It was lovely.

Observations: Bad Music, Bad Dancers, Bad Chairs and Perfect Bites

Kim and I went to Nashville Monday and Tuesday to be with our Dad when he had surgery. He's fine by the way. I made a few observations over the course of two days.

1. Kim was scanning radio stations on the trip up. We came across a woman singing what was obviously "Christian music". Why is that most Christian music is so completely sub-par and uncreative. I mean, I would have recognized the woman's genre even if she was singing a foreign language. "The king came down with his crown.... praise his precious name." Sung loudly and with much vibrato. Ugh.


2. At every bar, there will be at least one "bad dancer". I don't just mean someone who cannot dance, I'm talking about this special breed of woman who is on the prowl. So she jiggles her way around seeking whom she may devour. 9 times out of 10 her clothes are from the 80's and way too tight. Her hair is usually an attention getter. And her dancing style is singularly unique. I can't even describe it. But they always dance the same way. I could give social commentary or gospel application but I won't.

3. Eating a salad is something of an art form. You don't just dig in like you would a bowl of soup. It requires the perfect bite. You scoot the pieces around until you discover The Bite and then eat it. Then you look for that next Perfect Bite. Once all Perfect Bites are eaten, you're done. You're left with a few pieces of lettuce with no dressing or a piece of tomato with the stem showing. The bits that are marred and unworthy of being eaten. And if the salad is unusually large, you'll eat too much because you keep seeing Perfect Bites. And they cannot be saved for another time. No doggie bags. No waiting until you're hungry again. Salad has a very short lifespan. Once room temp, it's lost to you forever.

4. Hospital waiting room chairs are a crime against humanity. You're already emotionally uncomfortable and now, thanks to some unknown designer, you're physically uncomfortable. Which you can handle... for the first 4 hours. After which you pace. Not out of fear and worry but in protest of the stupid chairs. You will show the chairs that you can live perfectly well without them. "See? I'm walking and happy about it." But then fatigue sets in, the chairs sing their siren song and you cave. You sit. Maybe you try to sleep. But no, that won't work, because the designer has thoughtfully put extra metal and no padding on any area that you could possibly lean against. I have a suspicion that the designers are in cahoots with the hospital administrators. After all, you eat more food out of the vending machines in a vain attempt to comfort yourselves.

5. People in Nashville don't drive any better than people in Birmingham.

6. Mexican Train isn't nearly as fun with just 2 people.

I would tell you about the keyboard player of the band at B.B King's but it's too funny and will require more time to tell that I have immediately available. I'll tell you later.

Our Snow Day

Well, we were ultimately not disappointed. Although I did wake up around 6 am and put a few hexes on the local weathermen. Which apparently worked because we eventually got snow.



And it was wonderful. The kids built a snowman that stands about 24 inches high. I took a picture of it to send to Chris at work. They played in the snow until it all melted and left them vaguely dissatisfied. But it was great while it lasted.



I took a snow day. In fear of a power outage, I spent yesterday doing all my Saturday work. Thus, today, I vegged in bed and read a book. Wonderful. But I must now return to the real world of motherhood. My children cannot live off of apples, cereal and hot chocolate forever.

It's The End of The World... Get Milk And Bread!

Snow has a strange effect on people. Some love it. Some hate it. Some are afraid of it. Some feel the need to horde milk and bread because of it.

Snow makes me live in the moment. I can't let myself think about the consequences of snow, esp. the melting part. Messy, muddy, dirty, gross. Do I let myself think about that part? Nope. I just ignore the grown-up voice in my brain and enjoy the moment. The prettiness. The other-worldliness. The loveliness of snow.

I like snow the best when it comes during the night. I love waking up to the sight of it out my window. Now, because I'm all grown-up, I can tell just by the kind of light coming thru the window. But as a kid, I had to race to the window, holding my breath... oh please, please, please.... yank up the shade...YES! Snow! And then the happy-happy-snow dance begins. Um, oh yeah, uh-huh, uh-huh...

When I was a kid, my mother always made snow ice cream. I can't remember the recipe. I wish she was alive so that I could call her. Or better yet have her come over and stay with us so that I could watch her make it for my kids. Oh well.

Hopefully, we will have snow tomorrow. My kids will be soooo happy. And I can watch their version of the happy-happy-snow dance. I love being a mother.

Oh my gosh, I'm sitting here, at the church, working away and the men are watching American Idol try-outs. And laughing like crazy. Hearing these sad, pitiful people, who think they can sing is ... well... sad and pitiful. Stokes and Co. think it's hilarious. And to be honest, one of the guys sounds like he's deaf.

Why do people who cannot sing, think that they can? Have they never used a cheap little tape recorder to listen? Are they so tone-deaf that they can't even hear it? Sad. Sad. Sad. ... And pitiful.

Routine

I'm not a deeply regimented person. If you know me at all, you know this. There are times when I desperately wish that I was.

Occasionally, I'll decide that I will be. I will make a schedule. 7am -get up and exercise. 8am - eat breakfast. etc. etc. After a week, I'm almost suicidal. I honestly feel that if every minute of every day is the same, all planned out, then what is the point of life? Relentless repetition. No thanks.

All that said, I find myself very glad that the holidays are over so that we can get back to our routine. I like doing school every day. I like for my kids to do their chores every day cause then my house stays so much cleaner. I like being home a few days a week. I like some routine, just not a schedule.

I think I like to be in control. Okay... I know that I like to be in control. That means that sometimes, God and I are at odds. And I find myself repenting again. There is a part of me, my flesh, that wants to be in charge. That part is pretty loud sometimes. But there is another part of me, my redeemed spirit, that wants God to be in charge. I want to submit. I long for Him to use me. It's a battle.

The only thing that encourages me is knowing that God loves me and will use me to bring Him glory. That's a promise. That's what He created me for. And in that place, I know contentment. Whether I'm doing what I would have chosen or not.

The rub comes in when God pulls something away from me. Some idol or as I like to call them 'strategies'. And my flesh screams in pain. Trusting God means crucifying my flesh. And everything about my flesh screams to be preserved. And I choose. Who do I trust? Do I trust in the things that will kill me? Or the one who was killed for me?

Who really loves me? Who do I trust? When I answer those questions, the problems don't vanish or hurt less but the way is clearer and my faith surer. And I cling to Him instead of my control. I breathe for Him not myself. And whatever He wants from me, He provides. I can trust Him because He's the only trustworthy person in the universe.

Funny Forward

I've gotten this forwarded email from a couple of people. I thought it was funny. I totally agree with the sentiment.

"To all my friends who sent me best wishes in 2007, or promises of good luck if I forwarded something, it did NOT WORK. For 2008, could you please just send either money, chocolate or gas vouchers. "