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.

"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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

No one ever comments on my blog anymore. :(

So sad. Don't you like it anymore? Have I grown boring and predictable? Probably so.

Sorry.

"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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

Lazy

I'm so lazy. I haven't posted in so long.... I have no excuse. I really like to blog, Not sure why I haven't.

Kim, Boo, Terri and I went to Chattanooga. We stayed 2 nights and almost 3 days. Very fun! We watched television and ate and laughed and read and shopped. I'm so glad that I got to go. Random thought... While there we saw a really nice car with a personalized tag that read " King of Tennesse" They misspelled Tennessee! I'm not a very good speller, but I at least spell-check if it's something permanent and highly visible.

I go to physical therapy twice a week. I don't have to drive to Birmingham either. I go to a guy in downtown Springville. His name is Satan... I mean Scott Deuel. He's charming on the surface but don't let that fool ya. He's really quite mean. As soon as an exercise quits hurting, he adds more weight or changes it to make it harder. When he can't do that anymore, he just discontinues that exercise and starts me on a new one. - I really am kidding... my knee is sooo much better and it's because of Scott. He's very smart. (Don't tell him I said that) He's a lot like Chris and G and Judd. A little sarcastic but very witty. He takes it as well as he dishes it out.

My knee is showing a few sign of tendonitis. Nothing bad, but sometimes it really starts aching. I have to do an ice "massage" several times a day. I put massage in quotes because all I do is rub a piece of ice on my knee until it melts. How is that a massage?

Well that's all for this post. More later!

Grace

Things move me. Sometimes it is a song. Other times a conversation with a friend. Or a movie. On and on the list could go. I came across a poem the other day. It has haunted me.


He who learns must suffer.
And even in his sleep
Pain that cannot forget
Falls drop by drop upon the heart,
And in our own despair,
Against our will,
Comes wisdom to us
By the awful grace of God.

Aeschylus

Updates

Just a short update. It must be short because sitting at the computer kills my leg.

Ellas is home from the hospital. He is making progress, slowly but surely. His temp is normal. His mouth and throat are still affected by the ulcerated places. The Lord brought us all to the point where we had to trust Him with Ellas' very life. It's hard to watch someone you love be as sick as he was. It is also terribly hard to watch my dearest friend and sister make that faith choice. Kim had more faith than I can comprehend. She is amazing. But praise the Lord, His plan is to let us keep Ellas for a while longer.

My knee is healing. Rehab is difficult and sometimes excrutiating. But God makes a way amd gives me strength. I feel stronger. I'm having some faith issues when it comes to using these cumbersome crutches though.

My friends and church family have taken excellent care of me and my family. Thank you to all of you.

Well, that's all the pain I can stand right now. More later.

My poor sweet boy. Ellas is a very sick little boy. He's been in Children's for 4 days now. The doctors feel pretty sure that he has something called Stephens-Johnson Syndrome. He was put on oxygen yesterday. His fever has finally come down though. It looks like he'll make a full recovery but it might take a while still. Kim and Scott have been told to expect him to be in the hospital for at least 4-5 more days. Please pray for them. 

My leg after surgery. I'm recovering well. My physical therapist said that I'm doing really well. It hurts like he*%$! 

Bits and Pieces

Here's just a few random things to tell you. They are not unimportant, only random.

I saw a cat chasing a car tonight. It was really funny. I needed a laugh very badly.

Ellas is in Children's Hospital. He was admitted today. They are really not sure what's wrong with him. He's had a 104 fever for a day and a half now. His lips are swollen and blistered. The doctor said the swelling was not consistent with only dehydration. His mouth and throat are blistered also. We'll know something tomorrow.

I am having surgery at 8:30 in the morning. I tore the ACL in my left knee. I can't spell the name of it... it's anterior cru...something ligament. It cannot be repaired, only rebuilt. Then lots of therapy afterward. I dread it. I'm such a baby.

When I tell people that I tore my ACL, if they know what that is, I get the occasional response of "Huh. I thought that was a sports injury." What? I don't look athletic to you? Chris thinks I'm athletic. He's always asking me if I wanna wrestle.

I received a lovely card from Amber today. Thank you dear friend.

Bren and I had a deeply philosophical conversation today (quit reading Frank, you might cry). It concerned Jack Black. We find it admirable that people like Jack Black and Will Farrell and Jim Carrey can commit themselves so completely to something. We find ourselves way too concerned with how we look. Those guys do not care one bit if/when they look completely ridiculous. It's really quite remarkable. I wish I could be more like that.

Well, we're about to watch The Benchwarmers. It's always nice when you can go into something with really low expectations that are justified.

It'll be a few days before I post again. Enjoy your life while I enjoy my pain meds. And be sure to pray for Ellas.

Here's my favorite picture from our trip to Moundville. The day was perfect: sunny, a bit windy, warm. We had so much fun! 

Trick or Treat

Well, I suppose this year's trick or treating excursion was successful. We had fun and got way too much candy.

I let each kid keep a gallon size ziploc full of candy. And Chris has about 6 pounds of leftover candy to take to work. Good grief! I'm sure some of the women he works with might hate me for sending it to work but I have to get it out of my house. Otherwise, we all know what would happen to it.

Insecurities

I wonder if everyone is like me. Does everyone have moments of feeling like they're on the outside looking in? Like all the people they're with are deeply connected and they are just the "pity" friend? Maybe it is just me. If so, why do I feel that way?

I had such a marvelous day. We invited new people from church over for lunch. Boo and Evan came too. So did Jessica Wright. I had fun... hopefully they did also. Then we went to Laura Leigh's surprise birthday party. It was so great to see her have a good time and receive all the love that everyone has for her.

Last night we had the Fall Festival at church. Again, fun.

My church is my family. Debi Manville put it so well tonight. She said that some families are linked to you by blood, but our church family is linked to us by Jesus' blood. I am very deeply connected to my church family. Words cannot explain it.

So why, in the midst of all of this, do I feel like an awkward, unwanted pest? Maybe it's because G teases me too much. Nah, that's not it. Secretly I like the affirmation he offers in his own weird way.

I think it's because they all seem too good to be true. They know me too well and profess to still love me. They regard me with patient love. They call something out of me that is beautiful. It's quite unsettling.

Larry Crabb has a unique take on this in his book The Safest Place On Earth. His thought is that when we really believe that the Gospel is true (that we are more sinful than we can imagine and yet more loved than we ever thought possible) that this belief generates spiritual passions. These spiritual passions are then the centerpiece of true spiritual community. "They are what we pour into one another. True spiritual passions communicate more truth to deeper places in people than well-presented teaching, because they can exist only if the gospel is true."

My friends arouse spiritual passion in me. They pour life into my soul through our interactions. This is at once, satisfying and terrifying. Intimate and uncomfortable. Real and mysterious. This kind of interaction helps me hear the gospel on a whole new level. The gospel tells me not just that God loves me, but that so do his people. My church family has a way of loving me that touches my very soul. They don't try to excuse my sin or ignore my failings. They know them, many times, before I do. Yet they choose to love me. To see Christ in me. They don't condemn me or look down on me because they're just as bad as I am.

Wow. How is it possible to accept this kind of affirmation? Only thru the gospel. Their love recognizes Christ in me when it's very hard to see for myself. He does love me. He pays attention to me. He never ignores me. He seeks me out. He knows my sin and chose to love me to death. The only way I can receive this is with humility.

I am unworthy. But, man, am I loved.

I Miss My Blog

I miss blogging. I don't know why but ever since we got DSL it's harder to post. I think it's cause the phone interrupts me now.

Much has happened since my last post. Too much. I can't possibly go back and catch up. I'll just have to start where I am.

My kids have been sick. Gracie started out with croup and ended with bronchitis. Ty started with a sinus infection and has progressed to pneumonia. He was on antibiotics when he developed pneumonia. He's been on even stronger antibiotics and can't seem to shake it. It aggravates his asthma too. This pretty much freaks me out. Long story. He's the short version. Ty is my Uncle Dennis's doppleganger. (don't know if that's spelled right) He looks like him, acts like him, is tempermented like him, has his mannerisms, has the same illnesses - like allergies, nosebleeds, etc. My Uncle Dennis died when he was 17. They thought he has pneumonia. He didn't respond to treatment because he didn't have pneumonia, he had blastomycosis. That's a fungal infection in the lungs. He got sick on October 11th, 1963. Ty got sick on October 11th. Add to this my raging PMS and I've been battling to trust God with my child. I know, I know. I am deranged.

We've had a couple of mice in the house this month. I have personally seen to it that both mice were executed. It's a long and very funny story. The first mouse took up residence in our big chest of drawers in our room. It pooped in every single drawer. We put out 4 snap traps and 2 glue traps. At 4am one morning it got stuck. But only its back paws, so it proceeded to drag itself across the carpet, screaming. Lovely. I put a bucket on top of the trap so that it wouldn't escape. So for the rest of the night I lay in my bed and listened to a screaming mouse headbutt the side of the bucket. The next morning Chris and I took it outside and 'let it go', which actually means that Chris stomped it til it died. That's what it gets for making me have to wash all of my clothes.

The second mouse took me by surprise. I got up about 2am to take care of Brody when it ran across the living room and about made me wet myself. So, being Zena the Warrior Princess, I grabbed the broom and sat on the couch very quietly until it ran out of its hiding place. I jumped up to pursue but it made it to the school room. I stood in the hallway but was way too skittish for that; so I sat on the arm of the couch and waited. After about 15 minutes, it ran out of the school room, with me in hot pursuit, straight to my bedroom! Oh, I was mad! So, without even thinking, I flip on the light switch and sit on the end of the bed with my broom. I was determined that this mouse was gone before the night was over. (At this point Chris woke up... I have no idea why.) Then I remembered the chest of drawers. Within 15 seconds of yanking out the bottom drawer, I heard the mouse start gnawing. Gotcha! I ran and got the flashlight and looked under the chest but nope, not there. Then I looked behind the chest and saw the cable to the TV start shaking. It was trying to get out thru the hole in the floor. Oh, I don't think so! Chris took the broom handle and started hitting it. Then... silence. No movement. We moved the sock that I had previously tried to stuff in the hole. At first we saw nothing, but after looking a little harder we realized that it's butt was stuck in the hole. All we could see were a tail, two feet and a poop hole. I grabbed the video camera 'cause it was the funniest thing I'd ever seen. Chris got the tongs and pulled it out. Then we took it outside and 'let it go', which means that Chris dropped a brick on it. I have no mercy for vermin that carry disease and poop on my clothes. Hate me if you must.

Kim and Terri and I are contemplating taking the kids on an RV trip to DC and Philadelphia. Won't that be fun? I mean it's only 2000 miles couped up with 6 kids. But it is cheap and educational.

Leslie and I decided to print up tshirts for the kids to wear on field trips that say "Homeskooling is grate!" That makes me laugh.

Well, that's all for tonight. I'll try to be more faithful with my posts.

Been A While

It's been a while since I've posted. Our computer monitor died. We were without a computer for almost a week! That seemed like forever to me. And I was really busy getting things ready for a baby shower for my cousin. (It was a tacky disaster... thanks for asking) Life's been racing along and I've been trying to keep up.

I could blog about a million different things but I don't wanna. So I'll just blog the first thing that comes to my mind.

This will only impact you if you know the story of my mother's death.

Day before yesterday, I was cooking supper. Maggie came into the room and randomly asked, "Momma, when we all leave the house, will you start marking your calendar?"

Marking your calendar.... huh? "What?"

"Will you start marking your calendar?"

"I don't understand what you're asking. What do you mean?"

"I mean, will you start, you know, x-ing the days off your calendar?"

"Why would I do that? And what does that have to do with you kids moving out?"

"Well, that way I'll know exactly the day that you die. Not like Bubbe."

I never realized that it bothered Maggie so much that we don't know the exact day that Mother died. That she was dead for days before we found her. She wants a way to know for sure. I told her that I hope that she and I will be close enough and talk and visit enough that it won't be an issue for them. And I hope that I die of old age with her at my side, holding my hand.

She's very thoughtful, my Maggie. I pray that she never has to suffer the pain of a disentegrated maternal relationship the way Kim and I did.

Vacation Part 2

Day 5: Friday

Kim and Quinn left before lunch. The house seemed really empty once they were gone.
We went to Dave's Dogs for lunch. So good! We eat there every year. He makes his chili from scratch. The kids always get chili cheese nachos. We spent the rest of the day at the outlet mall. Nike, Fossil, Hanes, Gap, KB Toys, Big Dog, Tommy Hilfiger and the linen place that I can never remember the name of. For the first time in our married life, Chris and I bought towels. (We got 28 towel sets for wedding gifts) The kids shopped wisely. They each had $25 to spend. They did really well. Can't remember what we ate for supper. But we swam again. Oh, and we went to Krispie Kreme again. ;o)

Day 6: Saturday

Good day. We rode our bikes down to the State Forest. Long ride. We swam when we got back. We snacked and ate at home. We watched movies that we'd bought the day before. The kids watched Cheaper By the Dozen 2. Chris and I watched Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. I really liked it. Kind of confusing the 1st time you watch it. We went to the beach. We flew the kite and built a huge sand castle. After supper, we drove down to Seaside to get ice cream. There was a free concert in the square. (which isn't actually a square... more of a semi-circle bowl.) We stayed for a while and enjoyed it.

Day 7: Sunday

Plan: go bowling and eat out. Reality: I fall down the steps and wrench my knee. Very painful. I had to sit with ice on it for a while. Then we went to Walgreens and bought me a knee brace. It was still a good day. Chris and the kids bowled while I videoed. Gracie bowled a 102. 2 strikes and a spare. Amazing. We ate out at our favorite diner in Destin. We bought Brody an air-brushed t-shirt with his name on it. We swam. All in all we had a great last day.

Day 8: Monday

Time to go home. We woke to the sound of rain. How appropriate. We packed up and headed out. We ate at McDonald's in Luverne. The kids listened to music and played with each other. We had a scavenger hunt. (Find the statue of Elvis. Find the giant cow sign. Find the boat on top of a building. etc.) We enjoyed our time together.

As I think back on our vacation, I mostly remember the quiet relaxation. We truly enjoyed being together. The kids didn't complain very much. The parents didn't have to say no very much. I got to sleep. Chris got to eat out. The kids got to swim and ride bikes. We all got to get new stuff. Everyone got what they wanted most: family time.

Vacation Part 1

Time for a brief synopsis of our vacation.

Day one: (Monday)
Fight with a doctor's office, any doctor's office to call in a prescription for Maggie. She has a deep cough and a fever. We sit around, waiting, for 3 hours. Finally, after much wasted time and gas, we're on the road. Great trip. The kids played and laughed all the way there. Chris and I had lovely conversation. Kim and Quinn were there when we got there. Swimming, eating and television.

Day two: (Tuesday)
Rain. Rain. Rain. We swam in the rain. We rode bikes in the rain. We tried to go to the beach during a lull in the rain, but once we got there, it rained torrentially all the way back to the house. All in all, it was a good day. Went to Target and Krispy Kreme. The kids loved watching the doughnuts being made. We discovered that Brody eats chocolate doughnuts much more neatly this year.

Day three: (Wednesday)
We rode bikes, swam in the pool and spent hours at the beach. Lots of eating, music, laughing and reading. The reading was my hobby of choice. We went to The Crab Trap for dinner. The kids bought stuffed animals.

Day four: (Thursday)
Similar to yesterday. Bikes, swimming, beach and food. After dinner, we walked to the beach. Kim, Maggie and Chris had a gymnastics contest on the beach. Chris walks on his hands the best. Kim does the best somersault. Maggie does the best round off. Then we walked down the beach to Seaside. We ate ice cream at this great little ice cream shop on the square in Seaside. Well, we ate ice cream. Silas bathed in ice cream. The kids ran and played. Then we walked home.

Overall, the first half of the week was perfect. Aside from Kim's obsessive need to get up at 5:30 am that is.

Nasty

Just a short, funny and utterly disgusting experience. But I'm sure you've had a similar one. Don't lie... you know you have.

I was taking the wet clothes from the washer and putting them in the dryer the other day. I have a front loader. It can be a pain. Anyway... the clothes smelled bad. I'd pull a handful out and the smell would reach my nose. But when I put it to my nose, it smelled fine. I did this about five times before I realized that I wasn't smelling the laundry. I was smelling myself. I'd been working around the house for about three hours. I was ripe! When I realized that the bad smell was me, I couldn't help but laugh. Gross! Time for a bath.

Molly

I swear I have the stupidest dog alive. Molly is sweet and all, but Lord she's dumb! From the very first day that we moved into the house 5 years ago, I have fed her on the back porch. And every night, there she is... on the front porch waiting to be fed. I can stand at the back door and call her but she won't come. She stands there, watching Gabriel eat, looking pitiful. After a while, a light bulb goes off. She remembers where her food is and off she goes, excited as all, to eat it. She wakes up in a new world every day. Dumb dog.

A Thought

Just thinking. I tend to say that my sin is ever before me. And a lot of my sin is. But which ones?

I have a friend who is gay. I have a couple of friends from school who are now drug addicts. One of which became a crack whore. I have another friend who steals. I have no condemnation for them. I see my own sin when I think of them. I'm no better than they.

And yet...

I have a friend who condemns a women for having an abortion and yet he's cheated on his wife at least six times. I have a friend who condemns another for drinking a wine cooler. I have family who will not associate with people of color. When I look at their lives, I see their sin. And I am better than they are. I don't condemn the sinners. But I do condemn the Pharisees.

Hmmm. Doesn't that make me a pharisee? I'd rather not think about it.

Check out Maggie's new post. http://www.2sharpminds.blogspot.com

The link to her blog is to the right with the other links. Her link is titled "Maggie's Writings".

Routine

My life has slipped into a steady routine. Or maybe I should say, it is slipping into one. I have mixed feelings about this. On the one hand, it makes life a little easier. On the other hand, it makes it kind of dull.

I do much better with a system. I know that. If I have a system for doing something, it gets done faster and better. I can relax about it to a certain extent. I deep clean the house on Saturdays, which is a why none of my Friday night friends have ever seen my house really clean. I home school in the mornings. I grade homework on Wednesday nights after the kids are asleep. I have a routine. A groove. Don't throw me off my groove.

At the same time in my slightly clinically insane mind, I hate routine. I hate the confinement, the rut. It makes me want to shoot myself. I want to be able to do what I want when I want. I want to be flexible. Relaxed. I don't like waking up in the morning knowing that today is just like yesterday. What's the point?

So am I schizophrenic? Maybe. Bipolar? Possibly. Or am I just selfish and plagued by my already dead sin nature? Absolutely. I do the things I don't want to do. I don't do the things that I do want to do. And so on and so forth.

"Wretched (woman) that I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death? Thanks be to God... through Jesus Christ our Lord!" Romans 7: 24 & 25

I am free to find Christ in all these situations. I can see the benefits of his grace to me. I can live the life he has called me to live through repentance and faith. I don't have to enjoy the routine in order to enjoy the life that he has given me. Sometimes I just do what's gotta be done and repent of my selfishness while I'm at it.

What am I longing for? Relaxation. Rest. Fulfillment. Order. Control. Peace. Intimate connection. And I realize anew that what I'm really longing for is Christ.

Last Night's Dream

I dreamed about my mother last night.

I dreamed that I was giving my cousin a baby shower at my house. Everything was going crazy. I wasn't done cleaning or decorating. I hadn't gotten dressed in my good clothes. Then in walked my mother with a silver tea service and two bunches of white and yellow daisies. She sent me to get dressed and then finished the decorating. We finished the last task as the first guest arrived. I woke feeling so connected to her. It made me miss her all over again.

Control

Control... not something that I've got much of. Life speeds right along whether I'm ready for it to or not.

We started co-op (or as Grace and Ellas call it 'out school') about a week and a half ago. That's thrown my routine completely out of whack. Can't seem to assimilate it very quickly. It's fun though. Brody has crafts, gym time and story/music time. Grace has Bible with sign language, the science of creation and exercise/nutrition. Maggie and Ty have Country Club (a unit study on a country) and government/economics. Maggie has quilting and Ty has woodworking. Maggie and Ty have to change classes with the bell and remember their homework. They think that's pretty cool. I love that they have a real classroom setting once a week.

I'm struggling trying to keep up with the house work. I wish I could keep it clean and picked up. I know there are people out there who can, but I struggle. And I hate to ask Chris for help. He works enough, I don't want to ask more of him. He disagrees. He's told me to tell him when I need help but ... for some reason, I can't bring myself to do it. And when I actually do ask, I feel like a failure. Where does all this pressure come from? Not from my husband.

My Mom died 2 years ago today... well, we found her body 2 years ago today. In some ways it seems like she's been gone for ten years. In others, like a few months. Always it feels surreal to be motherless. I don't like it.

Why do I ever think that I have any control? Sometimes I drown and other times I just swim faster. But I'm never in control of the river. We used to go white water rafting. The guide would tell us that if we fell out of the raft we shouldn't try to swim. You're supposed to grab a hold of your life vest that you're wearing and try to keep your feet up until someone pulls you out.

That's life. Active passivity. Actively submitting to God's work in my spirit. HE makes me holy. Not the river. Not me. Him. The river swirls around me but I am safe. I do the best I know how to do and after that there's grace.

Huh?

Time for another installment of "Funny Things Heard At My House". Only this time, it was in Kim's van.

An actual conversation:

Ellas(to Grace) - You better stop or I'm gonna twist your ankle!

Grace - Well, I'll twist your little head.

Brendan(annoyed) - Stop both of you or I'll pull your rib out of socket!

Laughter from everyone...

Grace - I don't get it.

Ellas(by way of explanation) - He'll pull your rib out of a sock...

Ty - ...it. Socket.

Kim - touche`


None of it makes any sense, but since it was really late, we laughed for about twenty minutes.

A Matter Of Degrees

What is the difference between a woman having an abortion and the husband who hates her for it? Or the father who knocks his daughter unconscience and the mother who slaps her child's hand in anger?

The obvious answer seems to be that there's a huge difference. Possibly the amount of trauma. Or the depth of guilt. But really it's all just a matter of degrees, isn't it?

Jesus said that if we hate someone, we've committed murder. An act of anger is an act of anger. Selfishness is selfishness. It makes me feel better to think that I'm not as bad as someone who beats their child but is that true? Am I any better? Not really. I've yelled at my kids, been really, really angry with them. The impact on them is way different but the impact on my own heart is the same. I've sinned against someone out of my anger.

Sin is all a matter of degrees. The roots are pride and unbelief. The manifestations are different. Some sin gets more consuming than others. Some of us stay out of trouble. As Donald Miller says in Blue Like Jazz, "that doesn't make us good people; it only makes us subdued."

Oh, Love That Will Not Let Me Go

Well, I feel better. I held onto my pride and unforgiveness for a few days, trying to convince God that I was justified. But He quietly and persistantly whispered the gospel to my heart until it softened. I began the process of forgiveness.

The beauty of the Holy Spirit is that He doesn't let me go. In the midst of my stubborness, I knew that he would change my heart. I think that's what made me the angriest. I didn't want him to. I wanted to be right. But he knows what is best. He loves me. And he continuously draws me to himself.

I am thankful for his persistent grace that will never let me go.

Question from a Brat

Rhetorical question: Why is forgiveness so hard?

I know all the biblical answers. I know about pride and unbelief. I know about the importance of it. Then why is it so hard?

When I was pregnant with Maggie, Chris and I went to childbirth classes. They showed us diagrams, videos and plastic models of the birth canal. I was thoroughly briefed and knowledgable about the hows and whats of delivery. But ya know what? It still hurt.

Just knowing the why I should forgive and the how to forgive doesn't make it any less painful. Any less humbling. Any less distasteful. Some things are easier to forgive than others. Some things don't just hurt - they wound. And some things that are hard to forgive are made easier by a heartfelt apology.

Sometimes forgiveness just hurts. I don't want to remember the gospel right now. I don't want to think about my own sin. I want to stomp my foot and scream from the rooftop, "It's not fair!!!".

Maybe I will scream it. And I know that God is working on my heart. Softening it. Dragging me to himself. I just don't particularly like it right now.

Thanks for listening to me be a brat.

G'Night.

My Son

Last night, Ty came to me crying. Broken hearted. He had trouble talking about his problem for crying. When I asked him what was wrong, his response was that he didn't think he should play the Playstation anymore. Huh?

I asked him why and he told me that when he plays the Playstation it gets into his mind and it's all he can think about... how to beat the game or how he already beat the game. I can see that that would bother him. I've done the same thing before. I hate being obsessed with anything. I told him that he probably should take a break from the game.

But he wasn't the least bit consoled. He then tearfully tried to explain to me the deeper problem. Apparently, when he lays down in the bed every night, he likes to think about God and pray. And the Playstation being in his brain prevented him from thinking and meditating on God. That was why his heart felt broken. He felt disconnected from God and didn't know how to get back. He missed God, missed talking to him and thinking about him and puzzling over the new things he'd learned about him.

We talked about it for a few minutes when I realized that there was fear there too. He didn't understand that God is there whether we feel him or not. I told him that God is faithful to us, He is ever present, nothing we can do can separate us from the love of God. We told him that the Playstation thoughts would fade and God is still there loving him. At these words he was finally comforted. He could go to sleep, assured that God was still there with him, even though he couldn't find the thoughts to pray to him.

I asked him later what sorts of things he thinks about. He replied that he thought about God turning his back on his own son for our sakes, about God's glory shown to Moses, things like that.

Whoa!

"Really?" I asked. When I am disconnected from God, sometimes it takes me a day or two to even notice. My son has an intimacy with God that I don't have. And the very thought of losing Him devastated Ty. I recognize that Ty's not really like other people. He knows and understands truths that I have a hard time with. He feels the presence of God in a very real way.

Don't get me wrong, he's a little sinner. He aggravates his sisters and gets too rough sometimes, things like that. But he has a love for Christ that blows my mind. And scares me. Where will God take this child of mine? What will his path be? Can I trust God with his future?

Of course I can trust Him. He loves my son more passionately than I do. He knows his heart and whispers in his ear. He is growing him for His own purposes. What those purposes will be, I don't know. He could be anything from a mechanic to a school teacher to the next Billy Graham. But God knows the plans He has for Ty. Plans to prosper and not to harm. Plans for a hope and a future.

I pray that God will continue to teach me thru my son because I have so much to learn.

Brody pretty much posed himself for this shot. He looks like he's thinking a deep thought. Actually, he was watching Scott build a deck. 

Isn't she pretty? 

So handsome. And Maggie's so grown. 

Have I mentioned that I love Barry's camera? I took pictures of the kids last week... in a tree... in Kim's backyard... in 100 degree heat. It's a very good thing that my kids are used to posing! 

Glass and Knives and ....Cockroaches?

My Dad called last night to tell me that Aunt Dicie has been released from her nursing home/rehab center. She is in her 90's and has no kids of her own. (Aunt Dicie is my PaPa's older sister.) Anyway, she can't go home until it's been cleaned out.

You see, Aunt Dicie is a dumpster diving pack rat. I would say that she's a compulsive hoarder but she's way too generous. She goes through the dumpsters and gets out toys, clothes, furniture, kitchen stuff, you name it. She cleans it up, packs it into boxes and tries to give it away. It's like a ministry. My kids love her. She's always giving them toys. Problem is, she can't give it away as fast as she gets it. Thus, a trailer FULL of boxes which she can't get around in in a walker or wheelchair. It had to be cleaned out. So Dad called Kim and I, since we have so much experience in cleaning up after compulsive 'gatherers'.

She's been away for about 3 months after a really nasty fall. While, her kitchen has become completely infested with roaches and silver fish. (Now as you read on, keep in mind that Aunt Dicie was in the living room, sitting with her back to the kitchen.) We cleaned out the living room in about 30 minutes. But the kitchen... eewww. As we picked up one item, we'd have to shake the roach off of it. We tried to do this quietly because we didn't want to embarrass Aunt Dicie. The boxes got a good kick and shake before they were moved. But in one case they just clung to the bottom of the box. As I turned toward the front door and took a couple of steps they decided to make a break for it, all 20 of them, up the sides of the box.... in my hands. I then executed the very difficult and yet beautifully funny "drop-the-box-shake-all-over-and-try-to-scream-silently" dance. I am an expert in this form of dance.

Kim's prayer life was a sight to behold. Periodically she would stop, shake her arms about and quietly pray "Help me, Jesus. Help me, Jesus. Help me, Jesus."

The interesting thing about roaches is that when disturbed from their current station, they run directly for the closest thing... no matter how crowded with its relatives it may be. And as long as they weren't running up my legs, I was good with that. Until the last three boxes. It was to these remaining three boxes that all the other roaches had run. So when Kim tried to pick up a basket that was sitting on top, about a hundred roaches tried to make a break for it.

At this point, from my perch on my sister's head, my prayer life improved also. We were running in place, silently screaming, praying, waving our arms around and basically trying to crawl out of our skin to safety.

Ellas comes into the kitchen and witnesses the Running Of The Roaches. Of course, being Ellas, he thinks this is pretty neat. Kim says sweetly, in a pinched voice about three octaves too high, "Ellas, out of the kitchen! Out. Get out of the house." She's trying not to let Aunt Dicie know what's going on. Ellas takes a few steps towards the living room, "Why?" Kim's response was pretty calm and slick, considering that I was still perched on her head praying, "Because there's glass and knives..." And as Ellas starts to pass Aunt Dicie's chair, he adds, "And cock roaches!"

I thought it was hilarious. Here we were suffering, trying not to let her know she had a roach problem and Ellas just blurts it out. Thanks, Ellas!

We never did get the last three boxes out. We had run out of hefty bags. Dad has to go back and do it. So if you see a man being carried away on the backs of several hundred roaches, give me a call.

My Inner Princess

Inside me is an inner princess battling to get out. This inner princess is the part of me that is free from cares. She smiles a lot, never has stomach aches from worrying and is, generally speaking, very pleasant to be with. Her wicked step-sister is temporarily in charge. She likes to dwell on her screw ups and complain. Her head hurts and her stomach aches over mistakes. She is very serious. The two sisters are scrapping right now.

Inside me, a battle rages. My flesh is mean and doesn't fight fair. My flesh 'feels' every screw up keenly. My flesh screams like a spoiled brat, "Pay attention to me! I'm in charge here!"

But my spirit is cherished by the Holy Spirit. My spirit whispers over and over, "I am a princess. I don't have to do penance for my sins. I am loved and beautiful. I am being changed and transformed." My spirit is very stubborn and persistent. It doesn't give up and shut up when it's told to. It doesn't tuck it's tail and run at the loud screaming of my flesh. No matter how loudly my flesh screams, somehow my spirit... the Holy Spirit... is quietly louder.

I will bask in his glow. I will lock the wicked step-sister in the closet and tell her to shut up. And then I'll run to the throne room and sit in my Daddy's lap and be a princess.

Job Search

Chris and I went to Six Flags this past Tuesday. Loads of fun. Seriously. We rode the Goliath 6 times and the Deja Vu twice. Plus every other roller coaster there. (Except the Ninja and Scream Machine... I wanted to keep my head attached to my body) My throat hurt for 2 days from screaming. Anyways...

While we were there, we saw this man there with his family. He was in his thirties, a little on the heavy side, not heavily pierced. But he had a bright red mohawk. Chris' question... What in the world does a grown man with a red mohawk do for a living? We then spent the remainder of our time in the line for the Mind Bender thinking up suitable professions.

A musician.
A mechanic.
A wrestler.
A tatoo artist.
A bartender.
A bouncer.
A motorcycle salesman.
A short-order cook.
A body guard.

That's what we came up with... any more ideas?

Numbness

My brain is numb. Well... mostly numb. Okay, maybe not numb. But definitely slow.

This has been the week of Camp Cornerstone. I'm a guide. People tend to think that being a guide is sooo hard. But I'll let you in on a secret. It's the easiest job there. To me anyway. No prep work required. I just show up, lead my group of 5th and 6th graders from one activity to another and enjoy them. No lesson plans, no lectures, no responsibility.

Okay, there is a little responsibility. I help them learn their memory verses. Which I am exceptionally good at, thanks to Jenny's hand motions. G begrudgingly has to admit that my group is good at the verses. He is forced to give my group candy as a prize. Poor man.

Camp is so good for the kids. They are challenged to think outside of their pat answers: God, Jesus, prayer, etc. But it is also a beautiful thing for me. Last night I had trouble sleeping because of a particular issue in my life. I felt sick over my sin. Sick over my failure as a friend and mother. Just sick period. So I come to Camp C desperately tired and defeated. We sing. I feel superficially better. Crafts - still not doing so good. Fuss at my group too much. Next? Story time. With my cool friend Quinn. He's a great 'relater'. He puts things in a way that they can be understood and felt. His lesson? Atonement. Using Jesus and Barabas as examples. I cried most of the class. I am Barabas. And Jesus knew that. My sin was before him. My selfishness. My laziness. My blinding self-deceit. He saw it. He wanted me for Himself. Enough to be brutalized. Our verse for today was, "He was pierced through for our transgression. He was crushed for our iniquities. And the chastisement for our well-being fell upon Him. By his scourging we are healed." As Quinn pointed out, it's a very violent verse. Very bloody.

I was made whole. I felt my wholeness come upon me anew today as I once again heard of His atonement for me. There is no guilt. No mistake. No burden. No condemnation. Only love. Freedom. Trust. Faith.

Thank you Quinn for reminding me. Thank you God for Camp Cornerstone. Thank you God for the gospel... it frees me every time I hear it.

Cigareettes and Beer and Wild, Wild Women

Last night, Chris and I went to hear Adam Wright and his band play. Wow. They are so incredible. I completely enjoyed it. Their sound is so ecclectic and polished. It's so cool to watch really, really talented people get together.

They played at a bar and grill. If you ask me, it was way more bar than grill. Lots of drinking and even more smoking. Loud talking. People trying to 'find' someone. It was my first time in a bar. I didn't see the appeal. If it hadn't been for Adam's music, I wouldn't have stayed. It was uncomfortable to me.

That whole scene was strange and not 'normal' to me. I watched women flirt and seduce. And the men evade and then flirt back. My first internal response was, at the very best condescending, and at the worst judgemental. Why would you do that? Why take the risks? Do you really expect good to come from it?.... You can hear my attitude can't you? I wasn't condemning as much as confused and a little curious. With a dose of self-righteousness thrown in.

On the way home, Chris and I talked about all of this. My take was to wrinkle my nose and avoid that situation from now on. Chris' heart was touched. Where I had seen weird people doing pointless things, he had seen lonely people in need of Christ. Those were his words... "Crissy, they're lonely and they don't have God. What else can they do?"

It reminded me of the passage where Jesus wept for Jerusalem. His heart was 'filled with compassion'. He didn't avoid them or wait for them to come to church. He sought them out. He went to the places of ill repute. Yet, we are so afraid of our reputation or our 'testimony' that we avoid these people like lepers... (which coincidentally, Christ wasn't afraid of either.)

Am I willing to throw my reputation away? Am I willing to reach out to the addicts, the whores, the drunks? Or am I only willing to reach out to the religious, the pure, the repentant.... the Pharisees? Christ said the sick need the doctor not the well. The ones who would condemn me for ruining my 'testimony' are the ones who have no need of Christ themselves. They've got it all together. They're good people. They go to church, tithe, take meals to the sick, vote pro-life, uphold the law and have morals..... wait, I just described myself.

Can I love the gays and the drunks and the loose-moraled? Only if I identify myself with them and cling to the cross of Christ. Then and only then can they see the cross. I can't just point to it like a landmark. I have to hold on to it like a drunk clings to his bottle. That they can identify with. That they can see.

Another shot of my daisies. I just like the composition of this picture. 

I took this picture from my porch swing. You can see some of my pretty flowers. I love the light in this one. Barry's letting me borrow his 8 megapixel digital camera. Let me just say.... I love it! 

June 29th

It is now after 10:30 pm and I'm blogging. I should be in the bed but, as you've already figured out, I'm not. If I had a laptop I would. So if any of you have a free laptop you wanna donate, let me know.

I'm listening to my new 'it' song. Sean Watkins' Run Away Girl. It's a very beautiful, haunting song. Love it! I downloaded it for 99......wait... I just found out that I don't have a 'cent' sign. I have a dollar sign.. $... but not a cent sign. Bummer.

My back hurts. As do my knees and elbows. I cut grass and got a wild urge to weed-eat. So I did. Then I took the kids to the lake for a bit and when I got home, Terri had called to tell me I was getting more cement. So I spent the rest of my evening pouring concrete. It looks pretty good too. (Quinn once said that I work like a man. I hope he meant that I know how to do a lot of stuff. *shrug*)

I realized that I left the phone on the hood of my van about five minutes after Chris left for work (in the van). Great. So I guess I gotta go to town tomorrow and buy a phone. (Chris if you're reading this... 1. power up you cell when you leave home and 2. do not try to buy a phone... remember your curse)

My kitchen is a wreck. My living room isn't much better. My yard is littered with toys. If Amber were here, she'd say that my house just looked "lived in".... she's my best friend after all, that's what she should say.

My lovely friend Angela is "skrugglin". Her Grandma is in the process of dying, her daughter is having health problems, and since she is Angela, she's serving everyone. I'm sure she is drained and exhausted. I pray for her every day and yet always forget to call. I am a ridiculously bad friend. I'm sorry Angela. But I do love you and pray for you.

I made a new friend at Sam's today. Her name is Pam. I hope I see her again. We had a great time talking. My Mother always said I could talk to anybody. It's true. Even if I don't like them, I can still find something to talk about. Not to say that I didn't like Pam, because I did.

I am living up to my link name on G's blog... Crissy's Ramblings. I know I'm rambling. I feel like a rambler right now. (Shut up G) But I am tired. I have much to do tomorrow.

Good night.

Vacation Day aka Really Long Post

What a day! As you read this, you'll probably think that I am either: A.) insane B.) brave or
C.) amazing. I'll just clear that debate up for you..... I am all of the above.

My friend Bekah's daughter had a birthday party today at Chuck E. Cheese's. We went and had a blast. It's a fun, albeit nasty, place to go. Can you say antibacterial wipes?

Afterwards, we had an hour or so to kill before we were to meet Kim and the boys at the McWane Center. So I gave the kids the option of the enormous, cool-looking downtown library or the B'ham Museum of Art. Overwhelming response for the art museum. My kids love it there. No joke. So off we went. We headed straight for the Art of Japan and China section. Very, very cool little miniature carvings. Plus, samari stuff. While there, we met Brenda. Brenda was our designated security stalker. But she was a lovely, fun, energetic tour guide. Maggie and Grace fell in love. Maggie quoted poetry. Grace told family secrets. Ms. Brenda told us about several exhibits we should go see. We did and were better for it.

The Creek Town Exhibit was awesome! Everything was hands-on and interactive. They played dress-up, sat in a canoe, made clay pottery, ground corn into meal, made music with turtle shell rattles tied to their bodies and played a native game involving sticks. (Can't go wrong with Ty and sticks. Well, most of the time... root canals excluded.)

After that exhibit, we strolled down to the Monet and Pissaro paintings. Then on to the American art. They love the horse and Indian sculptures. Right outside this exhibit, there was a little living room set up. TV playing a documentary, sofa, end tables, coffee table and a 3 person writing table, complete with paper, colored pencils, erasers, pencil sharpener and items to sketch. Kim and I sat on the couch and talked while the kids drew for almost 45 minutes. Our husbands would have been apoplectic by then.

We left the museum and headed for McWane Center. We saw the World of Water, an exhibit showcasing Alabama water eco-systems. Brody and Ty saw two turtles stacked on top of each other. Maggie and I saw two turtle engaged in inappropriate behavior. Same two turtles.

We went to the Money Town Exhibit. There was a plexiglass cube filled with strapped one dollar bills. Bren and I tried to estimate how much money was in there. We guessed over $250,000. Bren asked why they didn't use that money for improvements. I said that I thought it was to try to get people to do math, which it did. Sneaky people! Then we moved on to the Newsroom Exhibit. Ty enjoyed videoing himself performing on his air guitar, while Maggie gave a heart wrenching report on pediatric cancer. We stayed until they closed at 6pm.

We went to IHOP for supper. There we met, Nieshia. Super sweet, super great server. The kids colored pictures for her to take home. She brought them free ice cream. She has friends for life in my children now.

Maggie noticed that we made several new friends today and they were all "black". And she thought that was so cool. There aren't that many people of color in my kids lives. I regret that. But days like today are a start.

Days like today are priceless. I didn't spend any money. The Museum is free. We get into McWane free with our Space Center membership. Chuck E. Cheese was a birthday party. And of all their activities, the Museum was their favorite. They want to go back next week because there was so much we didn't get to see.

I absolutely love my life. I know it's hard, blah blah blah. But I love it. I love it. I think I dwell too much on the hardness of it. The laundry. The dishes. The budget. Yadda yadda yadda. But it's a lovely life. I have the priviledge of sitting and watching my kids play. Of smelling the pretty weeds they pick for me. Hearing them laugh at fart jokes. Answer their questions. Be their jungle gym. Hug them. Teach them.

All these things make me pine for heaven. Beauty here points me to a more profound beauty. Pain points me to a pain-free paradise. Laughter points me to the author of laughter. Sadness points me to the one who will forever wipe away my tears. Come, Lord Jesus. Come quickly.

My Favorite Words

I am weird. I know that it is so. But some things cannot be helped. My weirdness is one of them. I love the sounds of certain words. Most of which I cannot spell properly.

Prerequisite - makes me feel like I'm speaking Latin somehow.

Barbarian - feels brutal.

Crunchy - self-explanitory.

Underpants - ha!

Chocolate - best pronounced with a French accent while picturing Johnny Depp.

Clarity - sounds clear.

Google - makes me picture things bubbling over.

Belligerent - I just wanna plant my feet and put my hands on my hips.

Crisp - really love this one... not real sure why.

Bride - has love and respect all blended into one word.

Antiseptic - sounds painful.

Momma - conjures all sorts of feelings. It's what I called my own Mother in better, safer times. It is what I longed to be called for years. What I am now called a million times a day.

Sacred - has a heavy sound to it. Don't ya think?

Abomination - ugh.

Anguish - sometimes the only word that fits.

Forevermore - lovelier sound than simply 'forever'.


I could go on for a while but I'm tired and I want to start another post about something else entirely. But just one more before I go.... forlorn - doesn't that word just sound lonely?

Count Your Blessings

Life is full of quick, sweet moments. If you're not open to them, you miss them.

Yesterday, I was cutting the grass. I enjoy cutting the grass. (We have a lawn tractor.) The engine drowns out any other noises. The sun is shining. I can smell the grass. Brody stands in between my legs and enjoys the ride also.

As I was cutting, I watched Gracie and Ty folding up and enormous sheet of plastic. Now when I say 'enormous' I mean like 20'x40'. They got it folded into a 2'x3' section. Wow. But they had a blast doing it. They got it all laid out flat, then took the corners and ran to the other end. Over and over. The sun was shining down on them. They were laughing and running, racing each other. I was struck with gratitude. Gratitude for my life.

My life isn't amazing or perfect. But it is my life. It is the life God has given me. And then I remembered my mom telling me to 'count your blessings' when I was little. I tried to name as many as I could and I thought I'd share a few.

I am thankful for my grass. I distinctly remember when we didn't have any. I have a lovely yard.

I am thankful for my husband who cherishes me. Cutting the grass for him is no sacrifice.

I am thankful for my oldest daughter. She is coming into her first glimpse of womanhood. She struggles with her attitude but she loves me and enjoys my company. I love having her to talk to.

I am thankful for my oldest son. He has a tender heart and a longing to know God. He thinks about things and asks deep questions. I love praying with him.

I am thankful for my youngest daughter. She is so sure of herself. And when she doesn't know the right way to do something, she asks. I love watching her learn.

I am thankful for my youngest son. He is a problem solver and explorer. He loves to try new things and play by himself. He is a delight to spend time with.

I am thankful for my in-laws. They love me and support me. And they give my kids the best presents.

I am thankful for my sister. She completes me in very cool way. I love co-parenting each others kids. She takes care of me. And in many ways, motivates me. I need her.

I am thankful for many, many other things. More things than I have space to note. All these things are blessings. Blessings that I deserve in no way. Blessings that point me to my Savior. My heart wells up within me. I can cast my cares upon him for he cares for me.

Gotcha!

I finally bought a new baby monitor. I need one because I spend a lot of time outside and I need to be able to hear what my kids are doing inside. Maggie and Ty discovered it and decided to do some spying. They hid one end in the laundry room so they could hear Kim, Terri and my conversation. They had no idea that I saw them do this. Time for some fun....

I whispered to Kim and Terri that Maggie and Ty were listening and then I winked. I started out by stating that Maggie's attitude had been bad lately (which it has - the element of truth). I then went on to say that I was at my whits end. I'd done everything I knew to do and was at a loss as to what to do next. Then I asked for suggestions.

Terri sat there like a deer in the headlights. She had no idea what to say. Kim on the other hand is an evil genius. She suggested one of those special camps for kids with bad attitudes. The ones where they have to be isolated from their friends and family, where they have to get up early, etc. I responded with praise but then was concerned about the cost. Kim said they had work study programs. "What, " I said, "Like cleaning toilets and stuff?" (silent laughter from the mothers) Kim said that Maggie could work off the cost and maybe I should send Ty to the 'boy camp' just to head off any trouble from him. And that I could get a discount if I send them both at the same time. (inspired!) But the only problem is that they have to stay at the camp for 3 months... no phone calls or visits or anything!

About that time, Maggie came very slowly around the corner of the hallway, her eyes huge and concerned. "Momma?" she asked weakly. At that point Kim, Terri and I died laughing. I reached out and took her hand and said, "Gotcha! That's what you get for spying on adult conversations!" Maggie started laughing and said that we had, indeed, gotten them. She said that she and Ty had at first gotten indignant about us talking about their attitudes. But they sobered up real quick when scrubbing toilets were mentioned.

I love tormenting my kids like that. We all, kids included, had a huge laugh about it. It still makes me smile.

In. Out. In. Out.

Have you ever had a particular problem or sin that you are so tangled up in that you can't tell which way is up? I have one. I'd try to explain but it's so confusing your eyes would bleed. When I try to examine this sin, I can't tell where good motivation ends and fear begins.

I've tried to use my fear as a motivator but to no avail. I've tried using self-control, will power, check lists, post-it notes, memory verses, diaries, etc. Nope. Didn't help. Talk to a friend about it. Nu-uh. Pray... beg God to take it away. Nope. Self-loathing, beating myself down. No help at all.

After years of this, I come to a very stark and simple place. If I don't like the way I am, if I have Biblical reason not to, doesn't that mean God wants me to change? And if the answer to that question is yes, how? Why is it so complicated?

Have you ever held hands with someone so long that when you look down, you can't tell which fingers are yours and which are his? As I look at this sin, I cannot see the division between the Spirit's work and my own self-sanctification. Self-sanctification is sin. It is me, battling my flesh with my flesh. Not gonna work. I hate the sin. SO much. I want it gone. I want it gone so much that I'm not willing to entrust it to God.

Deep breath. What's that verse? In my weakness He is strong. I am impatient. I want instant sanctification. I don't want to have to practice the spirtual disciplines. Trusting God for each breath, each bite, each step.

Today as I took a step of faith, I was almost immediately haunted by this floating sense of ... something. This desire to strategize, to plan, to syche myself up. "I can do this." What is this specter, this ghost that's breathing down my neck? The answer? Me. Self trying to do God's job. So I did my bit and repented the entire time.

Trust is as simple as breathing. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. Yet, I want a strategy, a way to be in control. Reminds me of a scene from The Abyss. This woman has to put on this helmet, that once on, will fill with a special gel-type liquid. It enables her to breathe in water or keeps her lungs from collapsing under the pressure of being so deep in the ocean or something like that. Anyways, she has to breathe liquid. She knows that it's not going to kill her. She knows how it will turn out but when her lungs start filling up with the stuff, she panics. Fights against it with all her might. Once she calms down, she's fine. She's able to carry out her mission. Trusting God's a lot like that. I know He's going to take care of me. I know that He is making me beautiful. But that simple act of letting go - of ruthlessly trusting Him with something so important to me is hard.

I know I will breathe Him in. That He's already there. I am floating in Him. He surrounds me. I have nothing to fear. Simple trust. He says, "Do this." Okay. I do it. One step at a time. In. Out. In. Out. Focused on Him and His voice.

Problems And Life

Blogger is having some problems. I haven't been able to get on and post for several days. Since I finally made it to my dashbaord, I'll try to make it quick before I lose it again.

Brody rode a motorcycle for the first time yesterday. Barry came over for the better part of the day, visited, ate lunch and then gave rides. Brody had on his cowboy boots, which he kept propped up on the shocks. Very cute. Barry rode Gracie and Ty up and down the road. Brody rode around the yard a time or two. He liked it very much. After he had ridden, it was Ty's turn. When Ty got on the bike, Brody gave him instructions... "Hold on to his shirt, Ty." and "Sit down, Ty." Ty was cracked up. Maggie was at Kim's and didn't get a ride. She was sad. And jealous. BTW, thank you Barry. We had fun. Hope you did too.

We got DSL. It's nice but has definite kinks that need working out.

My friend Bekah is back in Birmingham after living away for years. Her husband is in the Air Force and is having to do one year overseas unaccompanied. His name is Eric. Please pray for his safety and spiritual well-being while he's away from his family. Pray for Bekah and their girls too. Very lonely time.

I am teaching at our homeschool Co-op next year. Scary! I want to get all my planning done this summer. I'm going to try to get all my worksheets done and copied, all my experiments planned and laid out... get it finished except for the teaching of it. Maybe I won't procrastinate and actually follow thru on my grand plans. Then again, maybe not.

Our foster dog, Gabriel got attacked by fleas and ticks last week. Holy cow! It was crazy. One day - fine. Next day - not so much. It took lots of time and money to get him back to normal. He was pitiful. He's fine now, but geez, what a mess. It wasn't just the dog either. We pulled 4 ticks off Ty and had to treat our house for fleas. It was like one of the Egyptian Plagues. Hopefully it's over now.

Well, that's all for now. My deep spiritual musings will have to wait for the kids to go to bed. Since I started this post 30 minutes ago, Brody has poured paint all over the place, Maggie and Gracie have had a fight and I've answered the phone 3 times.(one of the bad aspects of getting rid of dial-up)Have a lovely day and smile cause you're not me! ;o)

Gracie's New Accomplishment

Gracie and I have differing opinions about her new accomplishment. She has finally figured out how to whistle. Lovely. She whistles all the time. My least favorite place is in the van.

Today on the way to Kim's, she whistled the whole way... all 25 minutes. And I have a headache. We were almost there when she found a new frequency. She said "Momma! Listen.. when I whistle like this it hurts my ears." "Yes dear, it hurts my ears too." *ear piercing whistle* "Gracie, could you please not do that anymore? Thank you."

New Link

Adam came over for lunch after church today. He's so much fun... we laugh the whole time he's here. His fiance, Jessica, left yesterday for a 2 month missions trip to Thailand. Pray for them both. Anyways, he showed us his MySpace page. It's really cool and has a jazzy version of a song he sang in church recently. The song title is Inside This Skin. Adam's solo space is in a link at the bottom of this link.

http://myspace.com/actofcongress

Here's a seriously grainy picture of Brody with his ENT, Dr. Schmitt. Or as the kids call her, Dr. Kim. We love her! 

Brody had surgery today. He had to have a permanent tube placed in his left ear. This picture was taken in his room at the hospital, notice the little gown he's wearing. Also notice the Versed (sp?) induced grin on his face. 

Maggie

My oldest child is hilarious. Go to their blog and read her spelling sentences. I'm still laughing.

Silliness

Brody told me some things tonight.

"Dinosaurs are louder than airplanes."

"Tigers are big and they go roar."

"I want to go to Ellas' and see the dinosaurs." I think he means the Land Before Time cause Scott and Kim aren't that old.

A New Memory Made

For my birthday, my wonderful in-laws gave me money. Now some people may say that money is too impersonal, too generic. The people who say that obviously have money because a gift of money to someone who usually has none is a beautiful thing. I know all my poor friends are nodding right now.

Anyway, I got birthday money. And "The Code of Spending Birthday Money" clearly states that it cannot be spent on bills or anything too practical. It's free money. Splurge money. Burn-A-Hole-In-Your-Pocket money.

I had a big decision to make. Should I spend it on clothes? Nah, I have enough. Music? Can't think of a cd that I really want. A pedicure? No way, that's gone in a few weeks, never to be enjoyed again. A nice little field trip? Are you kidding me? Then all of the sudden, it hit me. I have been wanting a flower bed in front of my house ever since we moved in. But we've never had any extra money that we could spend on it.

As usual, there was a problem. I know absolutely nothing about flowers. But my Granny does. So I called her and asked if she'd come help me. My Dad told me that it'd tickled her for me to ask. She excitedly agreed to help me.

Thursday was the day. Dad brought her and the tiller over and we got to work. While Chris was tilling up the area (no small feat in our clay yard... Thank you baby), Granny and I headed out to the nursery. We spent an hour walking around while she taught me which plants I should buy and why. I learned that the color of hydrangeas is determined by it's soil... I had no idea. I also learned how to divide plants, prep the soil and find a ripe watermelon. Very cool! We talked and laughed and cut up. Loads of fun.

Then came the planting. She dug the holes with the hoe and I put the plants in. She got a little exasperated with me at one point because I wasn't packing the dirt down around the plant hard enough. She made me come over to where she was and then said, "Now watch me. See here? You take these two fingers and press down. It's not that hard!" "Hard" meaning complicated. In other words, "Your ignorance is annoying. Please try to keep up." But, hey, that's Granny. She's one opinionated lady... but in a nice way.

We got it all planted and stood back to admire. It's very lovely. Money well spent. I think next year I'll get a birdbath. And then my stupid, retarded dogs decided to come make themselves comfortable. Have you ever tried to drag a hundred pound dog out of a soft soil without ruining flowers? It ain't easy. After doing this a couple of times, Dad and I decided to put up the electric fence. Gabriel caught on immediately. Molly on the other hand... she's a bit slow. It's still not completely understood by her.

Thinking back on the day, I realized that I'd made lots of memories with my Granny. I learned so much. And I made her laugh a lot. She made me laugh a lot. And I saw again that I'm a lot like her. And in my opinion, that's a very good thing.

My Redneck Weekend

I know I've already posted about our Stone Mountain trip. But that was just the bad parts. We really had fun. Even though it rained and we couldn't camp.

You see, we had a free night's camping. Which was great since none of us had hardly any money. But like I said, it rained. For most of the day. Really hard. My blankets and chairs that were on the roof got soaked. So, like good mothers, we improvised. We decided to stay at a hotel. So I called and made a reservation. I told them that I needed a room off by itself, away from other people.

So, by 7:30 that night, we piled into room 327 at the hotel .... all 11 of us. We felt like the Darlin's off the Andy Griffith Show. It took 3 luggage dollies to get all of our stuff in the room. We had to bring in 7 sleeping bags, 10 pillows, 2 ice chests, a cooler, 4 suitcases, 2 back packs, 2 cosmetic cases, a guitar and various toys. Not to mention 11 people. It was hysterical!

The kids were informed not to speak or make any noise on the way to the room. We came in the side door, went up the elevator and dashed to the room. Once inside, all the kids parked it on the beds, watching SpongeBob Squarepants, while the moms made sandwiches out of the stuff in the coolers.

The kids slept in their sleeping bags on the floor, while the moms got the beds. Air conditioning, cable tv, and a kickin breakfast buffet... who could ask for anything more?

As I've said before, parenting is 90% manipulation. It's all in the way you present things. Once Kim, Cathy and I decided we were going to have fun, the kids fell right in with us. No one whined or complained or fought. They all had a blast. There were moments when we could have been embarrassed or angry, but instead we decided to have fun. And inspite of the cramped space and the lack of spending money and the police interrogation, it was one of the most fun weekends I've had with my kids.

What is This World Coming To?

This is what I was asking myself this past weekend.

You see... Kim, Cathy(my new neighbor) and I took the kids, all 8 of them, to Stone Mountain. Kim and I have family passes and go fairly often. Anyway, we went. There was some kind of youth choir competition going on, which meant a lot of unsupervised kids running around. Mostly it wasn't a problem. But then in The Great Barn, a kid attraction, we all kept getting pummeled by balls. By other adults. There are a dozen signs telling you not to throw the balls. And the little kids weren't. It was the adults. One man was bullying kids and grown ups alike. And when asked to stop, threw balls right in your face. Stupid man! Once that group left, we all had much more fun.

But the most memorable part of the day was when I almost got arrested. It happened like this...

Towards the end of the day we took the kids to the Treehouse Challenge to play while we sat and talked. After about an hour, Kim and Cathy went shopping while I sat with the kids. I had taken Bren, Ellas, Gracie and Brody to the little wading stream. We were having fun walking around in the cool water and visiting with other people. Then this lady brings her boys over. I found out later that they were her grandsons. These boys were out of control. They were running, pushing, splashing and yelling. I kept looking over at the woman, who was watching them and doing nothing about it. One family just got their shoes on and left because the boys were taking all the fun out it for them.

After one of the boys almost knocked Brody down for the second time, I put my hand out, stopped him and told him to quit. That's when grandma decided to say something. To her grandson? Oh no. To me. She started yelling at me to not touch her grandson and that if I have a problem I need to tell her. I asked her why she hadn't done something about it herself, she was sitting there watching him be obnoxious. But all she kept doing was getting louder and more hateful. It became clear to me that she was one of those that cannot be reasoned with, so I apologized. I said, "I'm sorry that it upset you. Next time, I'll just leave." I apologized sincerely at least 10 more times but she would not even acknowledge my apologies. She went to the people running the attraction and reported me. The man told her there wasn't anything to be done.

Once she walked away, I got the kids shoes back on them and left. As we passed her at the entrance, she told the little boy that if he saw Gracie again she wanted him to hit her as hard as he could. Why? I have no earthly idea.

The kids were all whining about being hungry and thirsty so we went to the van. I got drinks and stuff out of the cooler for the kids and went to call Kim to tell her we were at the van when a policeman approached me. This crazy woman had called the cops and wanted me arrested for assaulting her grandson! Oh yes.

I was stunned and more than a little terrified. I told the policeman what had happened. He was very nice and reassuring. He listened to Brendan's side of it and then had us fill out statements. Kim and Cathy got there and were appalled. Cathy suggested to the policeman that pictures needed to be taken of the boy. The policeman told us that this woman was screaming and ranting. Her grandsons were climbing the fences and tearing things up while she was yelling at the police. And when he radioed the other policeman to tell him to take a picture of the boy, the woman couldn't even find him. There I had been with 8 kids, all quiet and obedient and she couldn't even control 2.

Finally, they convinced her that she had no valid complaint and she was making a fool of herself. She found her grandsons and left. It was the most insane thing that has ever happened to me. For as long as I live, I'll never forget her insane babbling or hateful spewings. Or the police coming to my van. Or the fear in the kids eyes. It was scary. I remember telling Maggie that we had to trust God to be our defender and protector. We prayed and waited for God to reveal the truth. Which he did.

What is this world coming to when adults teach children to disregard the feelings of others or even do violence to them? There was so little respect for one another that day. But then the next day was quiet and fun. The manager who had tried to help me and the police greeted us at the gate and wished us a better day. People were helpful and friendly. It was completely different.

So that was my weekend. Good, bad and ugly.

Comedy

A glimpse of why I say that the interior of my van sounds like the inside of a schizophrenic's head:

Kim to me: It was good to see Shae.

Me to Kim: I know. I'm glad she came to the wedding.

Notice this is a private conversation between two adults.

Maggie: Who came to the wedding?

Me: Shae.

Gracie: Who?

Me: Shae.

Gracie: Shae came to the wedding?

Me: Yes.

Gracie: I didn't see her.

Me: That's because she didn't stay for the reception.

Maggie: Who didn't stay for the reception?

Me: Shae. (Feeling a little exasperated)

Gracie: Why didn't she come to the reception?

Me: I don't know.

Gracie: Didn't she want cake?

Me: I don't know.

-slight pause-

Ellas: Who's Shae?

Me to Kim: Please shoot me.

Wedding Day

My 1st cousin, Dustin, got married today.

He was the biggest brat when he was little. I was 9 when he was born and by the time he was 3 I just knew he would grow up to be a convicted felon. But amazingly, he didn't. He is now a lovely man with a deep love for the Lord. God is good.

Preparation for his wedding was a bit tedious for those of us on the fringe. Gracie was a flower girl (the prettiest flower girl E-V-E-R!) But we were left out of the communication loop a lot. Not anyone in particular's fault but it happened. Gracie showed up in flip-flops because we were told they were going to be barefoot. Guess what? Plans had changed and no one called me. I stressed for a minute but then decided, what does it really matter? So my little lovely was barefoot and looked like an angel.

The wedding took place in the middle of about 100 acres of field, on top of a high hill. It was completely surrounded by pasture and trees and wildflowers and looked like something out of a movie. Absolutely breathtaking. The reception was under a massive tent with lights, a dance floor, and bookoodles of food. Prime rib, chicken, sausage balls, fruit, a potato bar. It was rockin'! I'm glad we were a part of it.

I got to thinking about marraige being a symbol of my relationship with God. The words that come to mind after that wedding are: excitement, beauty, tearful joy, pleasure, anticipation, hope, blind trust. Am I in love with Christ that way? Am I in love with Chris that way?

I am a bride. No matter my age or size or beauty. I am a bride. Glowing, happy, powerful, content. I am looked on as a beautiful. I am cherished. I am thankful.