Today, I had my usual Panera time. Over the past couple months, I've started meeting a few girlfriends at a different Panera and we all write together. Lots of fun. Today, it struck me how sometimes God answers prayers so subtly that you don't always notice them.
My friend Robbie was already there when we got there. She moved around tables and arranged things so we'd all have a place to sit together. Maybe that sounds like a silly thing, but I'm not the kind of person who likes to make waves. I would never move tables around because I'd be afraid of messing things up. But Robbie, she's a friend with courage. And I appreciate how she's willing to do the things I'm too shy to do.
Then, my friend Kay arrived with a present for me. Nothing big, but something very sweet. It was just really cool to be sitting there and have someone walk in with an unexpected gift because she was thinking of me.
Finally, my friend Denise showed up, and there's just something special about her. I can't explain it. I feel like she's someone I know from someplace else, but we've never been able to figure out where.
So there I was, working on my book, occasionally sharing a comment or a laugh with three friends, it occurred to me how God has answered a prayer I've been praying for a long time. Most of my friends live all over the world and we see each other when we can, maybe once or twice a year. For a long time, I've prayed for friends who lived closer, so we could meet for coffee or tea on a regular basis. And I'll admit, they aren't as close as I'd like, but you know, God came through on this one.
I kept thinking about how blessed I am, and how even though they've been my friends for a while, that they were really an answer to a prayer. I love how God arranged these women in my life so perfectly.
Kay's present was a book of encouraging thoughts. It was perfect. Even more perfect is that the little bookmark thing marked a page that had a beautiful quote:
"What brings joy to the heart is not so much the friend's gift as the friend's love." Saint Aelred
Thanks for bringing me joy. I have some pretty cool friends. And an amazing God.
1. Times I've been married. 2. Children I've given birth to. 3. States I've lived in: Colorado, New Jersey, Florida 4. Bathrooms we have. 5. Thursday Thirteen topics I considered for this week. 6. Books I'm trying to read. 7. Loads of laundry to wash and/or fold. 8. Todd Agnew concerts I've been to in three years. 9. Unfinished books I've had substantial work on. 10. Plants in my house. 11. Books I've completed writing. 12. CDs I listen to regularly. 13. Things I need to do tomorrow.
The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others' comments. It’s easy, and fun! Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!
My friend Jaime posted this thoughtful blog about how she's seen the light and is using her precious children for labor. I realized that I, too, am a slave to my children. Feeding them, clothing them, picking up after them, helping them with homework, tending to their needs, listening to them whine, and putting up with their general childhood demands.
Jaime's story, however, inspired me. Generations ago, the children did things like chop and carry wood, wash the dishes by hand, help with laundry by hand, weed the garden, scrub floors, only had 2 or 3 different outfits, churned butter, milked the cow, and did anything else their parents asked.
What happened? I'm sorry to say, but it's time to do as our forefathers did and regain control of our destinies. So here it is:
The Declaration of Independence for Mothers
When in course of human events it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.
We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all adults are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.
Because our children have denied us the right to pursue Happiness, namely sitting on our rear ends, eating bon-bons, and instead force us into slavery like laundry, preparing them wholesome meals, helping with homework, cleaning the house, and other drudgery from which we should be exempted because we already paid our dues as children.
We have appealed to their native justice and magnanimity, and we have conjured them by the ties of our common kindred to disavow these usurpations, which would inevitably interrupt our connections and correspondence. They too have been deaf to the voice of justice and of consanguinity. We must, therefore, acquiesce in the necessity, which denounces our Separation, and hold them, as we hold the rest of mankind, Enemies in War, in Peace Friends.
We, therefore, the Representatives of the United Moms of America, appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions, do, in the Name, solemnly publish and declare, That these united mothers are, and of Right ought to be Free and Independent people, that they are Absolved from all responsibilities toward their children. And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of Divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes, and our sacred Honor.
My friend Jaime posted this thoughtful blog about how she's seen the light and is using her precious children for labor. I realized that I, too, am a slave to my children. Feeding them, clothing them, picking up after them, helping them with homework, tending to their needs, listening to them whine, and putting up with their general childhood demands.
Jaime's story, however, inspired me. Generations ago, the children did things like chop and carry wood, wash the dishes by hand, help with laundry by hand, weed the garden, scrub floors, only had 2 or 3 different outfits, churned butter, milked the cow, and did anything else their parents asked.
What happened? I'm sorry to say, but it's time to do as our forefathers did and regain control of our destinies. So here it is:
The Declaration of Independence for Mothers
When in course of human events it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.
We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all adults are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.
Because our children have denied us the right to pursue Happiness, namely sitting on our rear ends, eating bon-bons, and instead force us into slavery like laundry, preparing them wholesome meals, helping with homework, cleaning the house, and other drudgery from which we should be exempted because we already paid our dues as children.
We have appealed to their native justice and magnanimity, and we have conjured them by the ties of our common kindred to disavow these usurpations, which would inevitably interrupt our connections and correspondence. They too have been deaf to the voice of justice and of consanguinity. We must, therefore, acquiesce in the necessity, which denounces our Separation, and hold them, as we hold the rest of mankind, Enemies in War, in Peace Friends.
We, therefore, the Representatives of the United Moms of America, appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions, do, in the Name, solemnly publish and declare, That these united mothers are, and of Right ought to be Free and Independent people, that they are Absolved from all responsibilities toward their children. And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of Divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes, and our sacred Honor.
You know, I have a lot of thoughts and not sure what to share. Rather than tell you my take on the election, and by now, I'm sure a lot of people are sick to death of hearing about the election, I want to turn our eyes toward hope.
A lot of people are disappointed. Others elated. Some who think all hope is lost, and others who believe that hope has been reborn in America. Both groups are wrong.
There is only one hope.
Tonight, I am praising the Lord. The One who is, was, and always will be. Here's my personal set list for the night:
God is still God. All my hope is in Him. His perfect love casts out all fear. He is the everlasting God. Greater things have yet to come, and I am so honored for the place He has given me in all of it.
Kalea Kane tagged me for this meme a day or so ago. As promised... here's my 7 bookish things...
1. If I can't read it in one sitting, I'm not reading it. Fortunately, I read fast, so as long as I've got an hour or two, I can get it done. :) 2. This rule is reverse for nonfiction. I only read about a chapter at a time, otherwise, I don't get the full meaning. 3. I dream of a weekend getaway where I get to do nothing but read. (And trust me, I could really use it to catch up on all my reading!) 4. If I think about a phrase in a book, I must re-read the entire book as quickly as possible or I'll go nuts. Not sure why, but it's a strange compulsion. 5. Because of the aforementioned compulsion, I have to own all the books I read. Otherwise it takes too long to find the book that's driving me nuts. 6. I LOVE reading in the bath. Hate when a book gets wet. 7. I'm a pristine book reader... I do not crack spines or crease pages. That's just wrong. Wrong, I tell you!
So now I have to tag people... hmmmm.... let's see if I can do seven...
It is time to play a Wild Card!Every now and then, a book that I have chosen to read is going to pop up as a FIRST Wild Card Tour. Get dealt into the game! (Just click the button!) Wild Card Tours feature an author and his/her book's FIRST chapter!
You never know when I might play a wild card on you!
Wm. Paul Young was born a Canadian and raised among a Stone Age tribe by his missionary parents in the highlands of former New Guinea. He suffered great loss as a child and young adult and now enjoys the "wastefulness of grace" with his family in the Pacific Northwest.
Two roads diverged in the middle of my life, I heard a wise man say I took the road less traveled by And that's made the difference every night and every day
—Larry Norman (with apologies to Robert Frost)
March unleashed a torrent of rainfall after an abnormally dry winter. A cold front out of Canada then descended and was held in place by a swirling wind that roared down the Gorge from eastern Oregon. Although spring was surely just around the corner, the god of winter was not about to relinquish its hard-won dominion without a tussle. There was a blanket of new snow in the Cascades, and rain was now freezing on impact with the frigid ground outside the house; enough reason for Mack to snuggle up with a book and a hot cider and wrap up in the warmth of a crackling fire.
But instead, he spent the better part of the morning telecommuting into his downtown desktop. Sitting comfortably in his home office wearing pajama pants and a T-shirt, he made his sales calls, mostly to the East Coast. He paused frequently, listening to the sound of crystalline rain tinging off his window and watching the slow but steady accumulation of frozen ice thickening on everything outside. He was becoming inexorably trapped as an ice—prisoner in his own home—much to his delight.
There is something joyful about storms that interrupt routine. Snow or freezing rain suddenly releases you from expectations, performance demands, and the tyranny of appointments and schedules. And unlike illness, it is largely a corporate rather than individual experience. One can almost hear a unified sigh rise from the nearby city and surrounding countryside where Nature has intervened to give respite to the weary humans slogging it out within her purview. All those affected this way are united by a mutual excuse, and the heart is suddenly and unexpectedly a little giddy. There will be no apologies needed for not showing up to some commitment or other. Everyone understands and shares in this singular justification, and the sudden alleviation of the pressure to produce makes the heart merry.
Of course, it is also true that storms interrupt business and, while a few companies make a bit extra, some companies lose money—meaning there are those who find no joy when everything shuts down temporarily. But they can't blame anyone for their loss of production, or for not being able to make it to the office. Even if it's hardly more than a day or two, somehow each person feels like the master of his or her own world, simply because those little droplets of water freeze as they hit the ground.
Even commonplace activities become extraordinary. Routine choices become adventures and are often experienced with a sense of heightened clarity. Late in the afternoon, Mack bundled up and headed outdoors to struggle the hundred or so yards down the long driveway to the mailbox. The ice had magically turned this simple everyday task into a foray against the elements: the raising of his fist in opposition to the brute power of nature and, in an act of defiance, laughing in its face. The fact that no one would notice or care mattered little to him—just the thought made him smile inside.
The icy rain pellets stung his cheeks and hands as he carefully worked his way up and down the slight undulations of the driveway; he looked, he supposed, like a drunken sailor gingerly heading toward the next watering hole. When you face the force of an ice storm, you don't exactly walk boldly forward in a show of unbridled confidence. Bluster will get you battered. Mack had to get up off his knees twice before he was finally hugging the mailbox like some long-lost friend.
He paused to take in the beauty of a world engulfed in crystal. Everything reflected light and contributed to the heightened brilliance of the late afternoon. The trees in the neighbor's field had all donned translucent mantles and each now stood unique but unified in their presentation. It was a glorious world and for a brief moment its blazing splendor almost lifted, even if only for a few seconds, The Great Sadness from Mack's shoulders.
It took almost a minute to knock off the ice that had already sealed shut the door of the mailbox. The reward for his efforts was a single envelope with only his first name typewritten on the outside; no stamp, no postmark, and no return address. Curious, he tore the end off the envelope, which was no easy task with fingers beginning to stiffen from the cold. Turning his back to the breath-snatching wind, he finally coaxed the single small rectangle of unfolded paper out of its nest. The typewritten message simply said:
Mackenzie, It's been a while. I've missed you. I'll be at the shack next weekend if you want to get together. -Papa
Mack stiffened as a wave of nausea rolled over him and then just as quickly mutated into anger. He purposely thought about the shack as little as possible and even when he did his thoughts were neither kind nor good. If this was someone's idea of a bad joke they had truly outdone themselves. And to sign it "Papa" just made it all the more horrifying.
"Idiot," he grunted, thinking about Tony the mailman; an overly friendly Italian with a big heart but little tact. Why would he even deliver such a ridiculous envelope? It wasn't even stamped. Mack angrily stuffed the envelope and note into his coat pocket and turned to start the slide back in the general direction of the house. Buffeting gusts of wind, which had initially slowed him, now shortened the time it took to traverse the mini glacier that was thickening beneath his feet.
He was doing just fine, thank you, until he reached that place in the driveway that sloped a little downward and to the left. Without any effort or intention he began to build up speed, sliding on shoes with soles that had about as much traction as a duck landing on a frozen pond. Arms flailing wildly in hopes of somehow maintaining the potential for balance, Mack found himself careening directly toward the only tree of any substantial size bordering the driveway—the one whose lower limbs he had hacked off only a few short months before. Now it stood eager to embrace him, half naked and seemingly anxious for a little retribution. In a fraction of a thought he chose the chicken's way out and tried to plop himself down by allowing his feet to slip out from under him—which is what they had naturally wanted to do anyway. Better to have a sore butt than pick slivers out of his face.
But the adrenaline rush caused him to over compensate, and in slow motion Mack watched his feet rise up in front of him as if jerked up by some jungle trap. He hit hard, back of the head first, and skidded to a heap at the base of the shimmering tree, which seemed to stand over him with a smug look mixed with disgust and not a little disappointment.
The world went momentarily black, or so it seemed. He lay there dazed and staring up into the sky, squinting as the icy precipitation rapidly cooled his flushed face. For a fleeting pause, everything felt oddly warm and peaceful, his ire momentarily knocked out by the impact. "Now, who's the idiot?" he muttered to himself, hoping that no one had been watching.
Cold was creeping quickly through his coat and sweater and Mack knew the ice rain that was both melting and freezing beneath him would soon become a major discomfort. Groaning and feeling like a much older man, he rolled onto his hands and knees. It was then that he saw the bright red skid mark tracing his journey from point of impact to final destination. As if birthed by the sudden awareness of his injury, a dull pounding began crawling up the back of his head. Instinctively, he reached for the source of the drum beat and brought his hand away bloody.
With rough ice and sharp gravel gouging his hands and knees, Mack half crawled and half slid until he eventually made it to a level part of the driveway. With not a little effort he was finally able to stand and gingerly inch his way toward the house, humbled by the powers of ice and gravity.
Once inside, Mack methodically shed the layers of outerwear as best he could, his half-frozen fingers responding with about as much dexterity as oversized clubs at the ends of his arms. He decided to leave the drizzly bloodstained mess right where he doffed it in the entryway and retreated painfully to the bathroom to examine his wounds. There was no question that the icy driveway had won. The gash on the back of his head was oozing around a few small pebbles still embedded in his scalp. As he had feared, a significant lump had already formed, emerging like a humpbacked whale breaching the wild waves of his thinning hair.
Mack found it a difficult chore to patch himself up by trying to see the back of his head using a small hand-held mirror that reflected a reverse image off the bathroom mirror. A short frustration later he gave up, unable to get his hands to go in the right directions and unsure which of the two mirrors was lying to him. By gingerly probing around the soggy gash he succeeded in picking out the biggest pieces of debris, until it hurt too much to continue. Grabbing some first-aid ointment and plugging the wound as best he could, he then tied a washcloth to the back of his head with some gauze he found in a bathroom drawer. Glancing at himself in the mirror, he thought he looked a little like some rough sailor out of Moby Dick. It made him laugh, then wince.
He would have to wait until Nan made it home before he would get any real medical attention; one of the many benefits of being married to a registered nurse. Anyway, he knew that the worse it looked the more sympathy he would get. There is often some compensation in every trial, if one looked hard enough. He swallowed a couple over-the-counter painkillers to dull the throbbing and limped toward the front entry.
Not for an instant had Mack forgotten about the note. Rummaging through the pile of wet and bloody clothing he finally found it in his coat pocket, glanced at it and then headed back into his office. He located the post office number and dialed it. As expected, Annie, the matronly postmaster and keeper of everyone's secrets, answered the phone. "Hi, is Tony in by chance?"
"Hey, Mack, is that you? Recognized your voice." Of course she did. "Sorry, but Tony ain't back yet. In fact I just talked to him on the radio and he's only made it halfway up Wildcat, not even to your place yet. Do ya need me to have him call ya, or would ya just like to leave a message?"
"Oh, hi. Is that you, Annie?" He couldn't resist, even though her Midwestern accent left no doubt. "Sorry, I was busy for a second there. Didn't hear a word you said."
She laughed. "Now Mack, I know you heard every word. Don't you be goin' and tryin' to kid a kidder. I wasn't born yesterday, ya know. Whaddya want me to tell him if he makes it back alive?"
"Actually, you already answered my question."
There was a pause at the other end. "Actually, I don't remember you askin' a question. What's wrong with you, Mack? Still smoking too much dope or do you just do that on Sunday mornings to make it through the church service?" At this she started to laugh, as if caught off guard by the brilliance of her own sense of humor.
"Now Annie, you know I don't smoke dope—never did, and don't ever want to." Of course Annie knew no such thing, but Mack was taking no chances on how she might remember the conversation in a day or two. Wouldn't be the first time that her sense of humor morphed into a good story that soon became "fact." He could see his name being added to the church prayer chain. "It's okay, I'll just catch Tony some other time, no big deal."
"Okay then, just stay indoors where it's safe. Don't ya know, an old guy like you coulda lost his sense of balance over the years. Wouldn't wanna see ya slip and hurt your pride. Way things are shapin' up, Tony might not make it up to your place at all. We can do snow, sleet, and darkness of night pretty well, but this frozen rain stuff. It's a challenge to be sure."
"Thanks, Annie. I'll try and remember your advice. Talk to you later. Bye now." His head was pounding more than ever; little trip hammers beating to the rhythm of his heart. "That's odd," he thought, "who would dare put something like that in our mailbox?" The painkillers had not yet fully kicked in, but were present enough to dull the edge of worry that he was starting to feel, and he was suddenly very tired. Laying his head down on the desk, he thought he had just dropped off to sleep when the phone startled him awake.
"Uh . . . hello?"
"Hi, love. You sound like you've been asleep." It was Nan, sounding unusually cheery, even though he felt he could hear the underlying sadness that lurked just beneath the surface of every conversation. She loved this kind of weather as much as he usually did. He switched on the desk lamp and glanced at the clock, surprised that he had been out for a couple hours.
"Uh, sorry. I guess I dozed off for a bit."
"Well, you sound a little groggy. Is everything all right?"
"Yup." Even though it was almost dark outside, Mack could see that the storm had not let up. It had even deposited low, and he knew some would eventually break from the weight, especially if the wind kicked up. "I had a little tussle with the driveway when I got the mail, but other than that, everything is fine. Where are you?"
"I'm still at Arlene's, and I think me and the kids'll spend the night here. It's always good for Kate to be around the family . . . seems to restore a little balance." Arlene was Nan's sister who lived across the river in Washington. "Anyway, it's really too slick to go out. Hopefully it'll break up by morning. I wish I had made it home before it got so bad, but oh well." She paused. "How's it up at the house?"
"Well, it's absolutely stunningly beautiful, and a whole lot safer to look at than walk in, trust me. I, for sure, don't want you to try and get up here in this mess. Nothing's moving. I don't even think Tony was able to bring us the mail."
"I thought you already got the mail?" she queried.
"Nope, I didn't actually get the mail. I thought Tony had already come and I went out to get it. There," he hesitated, looking down at the note that lay on the desk where he had placed it, "wasn't any mail yet. I called Annie and she said Tony probably wouldn't be able to make it up the hill, and I'm not going out there again to see if he did.
"Anyway," he quickly changed the subject to avoid more questions, "how is Kate doing over there?"
There was a pause and then a long sigh. When Nan spoke her voice was hushed to a whisper and he could tell she was covering her mouth on the other end. "Mack, I wish I knew. She is just like talking to a rock, and no matter what I do I can't get through. When we're around family she seems to come out of her shell some, but then she disappears again. I just don't know what to do. I've been praying and praying that Papa would help us find a way to reach her, but . . ." she paused again, "it feels like he isn't listening."
There it was. Papa was Nan's favorite name for God and it expressed her delight in the intimate friendship she had with him.
"Honey, I'm sure God knows what he's doing. It will all work out." The words brought him no comfort but he hoped they might ease the worry he could hear in her voice.
"I know," she sighed. "I just wish he'd hurry up."
"Me too," was all Mack could think to say. "Well, you and the kids stay put and stay safe, and tell Arlene and Jimmy hi, and thank them for me. Hopefully I will see you tomorrow."
"Okay, love. I should go and help the others. Everyone's busy looking for candles in case the power goes out. You should probably do the same. There's some above the sink in the basement, and there's leftover stuffed bread dough in the fridge that you can heat up. Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yeah, my pride is hurt more than anything."
"Well take it easy, and hopefully we'll see you in the morning."
"All right honey. Be safe and call me if you need anything. Bye."
It was kind of a dumb thing to say, he thought as he hung up the phone. Kind of a manly dumb thing, as if he could help if they needed anything.
Mack sat and stared at the note. It was confusing and painful trying to sort out the swirling cacophony of disturbing emotions and dark images clouding his mind—a million thoughts traveling a million miles an hour. Finally, he gave up, folded the note, slid it into a small tin box he kept on the desk, and switched off the light.
Mack managed to find something to heat up in the microwave, then he grabbed a couple of blankets and pillows and headed for the living room. A quick glance at the clock told him that Bill Moyer's show had just started; a favorite program that he tried never to miss. Moyer was one of a handful of people whom Mack would love to meet; a brilliant and outspoken man, able to express intense compassion for both people and truth with unusual clarity. One of the stories tonight had something to do with oilman Boone Pickens, who was now starting to drill for water, of all things.
Almost without thinking, and without taking his eyes off the television, Mack reached over to the end table, picked up a photo frame holding a picture of a little girl, and clutched it to his chest. With the other hand he pulled the blankets up under his chin and hunkered deeper into the sofa.
Soon the sounds of gentle snoring filled the air as the media tube turned its attention to a piece on a high school senior in Zimbabwe, who had been beaten for speaking out against his government. But Mack had already left the room to wrestle with his dreams; maybe tonight there would be no nightmares, only visions, perhaps, of ice and trees and gravity.
Hey, going to post this one, because I love the concept but forgot recently, so we'll do this one today, I have a book tour tomorrow, and sometime in between, I've got a fun meme from Kalea, so we should have a few fun new posts.
There are many outstanding characters in the books we read but often there's that one special character we remember for a long time. Sometimes it's because we relate to them, or maybe we were going through something similar to what they experienced. Or maybe they are just the sort of person we wish we were. Who is the most memorable character in Christian fiction for you and why?
Wow. That is actually a harder question than I thought. And, even though it might sound like a cop-out, I'm going to go with Havah, from Tosca Lee's book, Havah: the story of Eve. She's memorable because she's definitely made me rethink the idea of sin and choice, and how we think about what we do.
I was having a series of particularly grumpy moments today, where it felt like every little thing that meant something to me was completely denied. I felt like so many things I had been hoping for are so far out of my reach, and I honestly sat there, crying, and saying to God, "What are you doing and why are you making this so hard?" Not that He answered me, but I spent a great deal of time arguing my case before Him, letting Him know why I thought He was being completely unfair in my life right now.
Then it occurred to me that I wasn't alone in this struggle. As I thought about a lot of the things upsetting me, I realized someone else had those struggles. Havah. And I realized how things aren't as cut and dried and put into the nice neat little piles we'd like. Mostly, though, I thought about how Havah cried out to God and never again felt His comforting presence. The beauty of our relationship with God is that because of Christ, He's there.
We might have moments where things feel empty and we wonder what God is doing in our lives, but as believers, we'll never have that lifelong search for reconnection that Havah did.
Havah is a memorable character to me, because in some respects, she is me. And yet, because of grace, she and I are worlds apart. Which makes me really thankful that I know Jesus.
How sweet! Siteseer gave me an award! I so seldom win anything, so we'll just put this here on my old dusty trophy wall where you all can see it.
The requirements for this award are to list six things that make me happy, then tag six more bloggers.
Six things that make me happy:
1. Panera. If you follow me on Twitter or Facebook, I don't need to say anything more. 2. Tea. 3. Time ALONE. 4. Knitting. 5. A good book. 6. God.
Yep. Good stuff. I'm a simple girl, really. Although given that I haven't had nearly enough of those things this week, I'm thinking I know why I've been a grumpy gus lately.
The final requirement for this award is to tag 6 more bloggers that are Kreativ.
1. My little one was bouncing and I kept telling her to stop so she wouldn't make herself sick. "But mom, I'm not bouncing on my tummy, I'm bouncing on my @ss!" Horrified that my sweet child would say such a thing, I told her not to use that word. "But why mom, that's what it is... it's my @ss." As I tried explaining to her that it was still a bad word, she says, "Mom, it's a part of the body. Body parts can't be bad words." She's four. What am I going to do with her at fourteen?
2. The doctor is asking if it hurts her to pee, so she whispers to me, "It hurts to poop, but don't tell him that because that's private."
3. We're discussing whether or not she's well enough to go outside to play, and I tell her she'll have to wait until her dad gets home to talk with him about it. "Oh good. Daddy always tells me yes." I mentioned I'm going to be in trouble when she's fourteen, right?
4. She's sitting on the couch, passing gas, each time offering a polite "excuse me." Finally, I say, "okay, that's enough." "But mom, I said excuse me, so it's okay to fart. Farts happen."
5. We're getting ready to go to the store to buy soup for lunch. "So first, you have to put curlies (braids) in my hair so I can be beautiful. Then I need my socks and shoes. Then, you have to let the dog out. Then, we have to look in the mirror to make sure I'm beautiful. Then, we can go." I tried letting the dog out before the socks and shoes and she threw a hissy fit. "No, Mom, that's not how I said it goes!"
6. She's looking at one of our wedding pictures on the mantle. "Where am I in the picture?" "You weren't born yet." "That's not fair that you got to go there without me. It looks like a cool place. Will you take me there sometime?" As I'm trying to figure out a good answer, since we were married at a country club that we're NOT members of and that particular picture was taken on their golf course, she says with the urgency of a deathbed vow, "PROMISE me, Mom. When I get married, you're going to take me right there and you'll let me get married."
7. Still looking at pictures on the mantel. "I was such a cute baby. I've always been beautiful." "Um, that's not you. That's your sister." "What? Why don't you have pictures of me anywhere in the house? Don't you love me?" In all fairness, I still don't have all of our pictures framed or unpacked, and for some reason, I don't have hers. So she does have a point.
8. "Do you think I should marry Tom and Jerry?" As in her favorite cartoon? I'm tired of all her nonsense, so I sort of agree. "Mom, you're silly. You know I can't marry Tom and Jerry. I'm still a kid."
9. She's been trying to get me to get her a glass of milk and I'm in the middle of something. "Mom, you're my most beautiful and lovely mom. Now will you get me some milk?"
10. Looking for a pumpkin at the pumpkin patch. "I want a pumpkin that I can carry all by myself. Last year, we got a big one and dad had to carry it. But it's MY pumpkin and I'M going to carry it, okay?" Big sister had to rub in that it was a small pumpkin. "Yes, but I'm a small girl and I'm carrying mine all by myself so I need a small pumpkin."
11. "Mom, I brought my pet roly polys in because someone stole some last night. I had a lot and now there's only a few left, so I brought them inside." "Sorry honey, you know the rules. No bugs in my house." "But mom, these are my pets. And they have to be inside so no one else steals them." "Nope. They need to go out." "But they're in MY room, not yours." "Yes, but they're still in my house and I don't want them in my house." She stomps off, wailing, "You just don't care about nature!"
12. She's playing, and I hear a loud, "MOM!" I come running, "What, honey?" She looks at me, angry. "I wasn't talking to you. I was playing a game." This happens a few times, so finally, the next time I hear her yelling mom, I ignore it. A few minutes later, I find her in tears. "What's wrong?" "I called and you didn't come. Don't you love me?" "Well, the last few times you called, you were playing a game and didn't want me." "But this time I did. You're my mom. You should know when I need you."
13. But probably the best, because at each of her funny but truly sincere words, I have a hard time not laughing, she says, "Don't laugh at me, I'm not funny. I mean it. I'm serious."
The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others' comments. It’s easy, and fun! Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!
I meant to post last night, but I came home to a sick little one with a fever of 102.6. So I sat up with her, holding her and loving on her. She's still really sick today. Doing the "do I call the doctor" debate, and right now I'm just watching her. My kiddos have this miraculous ability to become well the instant they walk in the doctor's office. She's sleeping now, so we'll see how she is when she wakes up.
Right. I was going to post pics from our pumpkin patch trip, but we used my FIL's camera because ours was missing, and I don't know how to do the downloady thing on it, so I have to wait for hubby.
Interesting thing about the missing camera... it's been missing for a while. The last time I saw it, I had it on the couch because I was downloading pics. Then it disappeared. I've asked the kids over and over if they've seen it. We moved all the furniture and looked everywhere. Nothing. I finally sent a prayer request to a prayer loop, feeling slightly silly, but the reality is, they pray lost stuff found. Don't know how, but it works. Within an hour, I was talking to hubby about the camera, and the little one pipes up, "I know where it is!" Sure enough, she brought it to us. Couldn't do it the past 100 times we asked, but that one worked.
I have a couple of memes to do, one someone tagged me on a while ago, but I can't remember where it is. (So if it was you, remind me, because it seemed interesting.)Siteseer has a good one, but I'm being to lazy to post it right now, because it's kind of long. Still, go check it out.
Last, we've been fighting the battle of the fruit flies. For some reason, we've been invaded. I have searched the web, done EVERYTHING I could to get rid of them, made all sorts of traps, and nothing has worked. So this morning, as I'm dealing with my poor sick baby, I see flies swarming my trap, but not dead. Which they've been doing for days now. So I hunted in the garage to find some sort of insecticide. I came up with wasp and hornet killer. I sprayed the flies on the traps, and every other fruit fly I could find. As of this post, it appears they are all dead. Dead, I tell you, dead.
So that, my friends, is what I've been up to since my last post.
I thought of this topic because my daughter is having mysterious reactions to food, and I think it's an allergy, but I can't figure out which food is triggering it. Took her to the doctor, who is mystified, so we're going to a specialist. So since I'm in the paranoid looking at symptoms mood, let me tell you about MY allergies:
1. Work. Definitely allergic to work. 2. Cleaning. The allergist wants to know how often I vacuum and dust. I have to use a dust mask, take an antihistamine, and I still feel like crap afterward, so I don't do it very often. 3. Benadryl. Seriously. I have a severe reaction to the standard med for allergies. 4. That Man. Again, you think I'm joking, but every time he walks into the room, I sneeze. 5. Our marital bed. Not making this up... if I go to bed, and he's in the bed, I have an allergy attack. If I go to bed and he's not in the bed, I'm fine. See, I really am allergic to my husband! 6. Wool. I bought some really pretty yarn to knit with, but it was wool, so my hands got all red and itchy and stuff. 7. Dander. If it's a furry animal, it makes me sick. Except my dog. For some reason, I'm fine with certain breeds, like Miniature Schnauzers. 8. Mold, Dust, Pollen. Who isn't? 9. Grass and Cologne. Separately and together. One of my boyfriends broke up with me because when he came to visit, he was wearing too much cologne, and the next day, they mowed the lawn outside the window where I worked, so I had a huge reaction, and got really sick. He decided it meant I was allergic to him, so he broke up with me. Really glad my husband keeps me around, even though I'm definitely allergic to him. 10. Watermelon. Any kind of melon really. Which stinks because I love melon, and it makes summertime absolutely unbearable. 11. Salmon. I used to be able to eat it just fine, but the past two times I've eaten it, it made the inside of my ears itch. I'm very depressed. Losing a source of Omega 3s is never good. 12. Cats. I'm convinced it's an emotional thing, since I used to love cats. But when my first pet cat died, the allergies started, and when my second one died, they became intolerable. I think their spirits haunt me, preventing me from getting close to another cat. 13. Did I say work yet? Because it seriously makes me really really sick.
The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others' comments. It’s easy, and fun! Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!
First off, you should know that I hate talking on the phone anyway. There's a few friends I can talk to for hours, but most of the time, the phone ringing is nothing more than an irritating distraction I choose to ignore.
However...
In these political times, I can't ignore the fact that my phone never stops ringing. Go away! I'm not voting for you because you bugged me. Period. I track who calls the most and then I vote for the other guy. So there.
My four year old, on the other hand, looooves the phone. She takes all the calls we don't want. Even the eight year old, when she's bored with whichever friend has called, will hand her the phone when she's done and the friend's not. The worst fact of my kiddo's life is that she's not allowed on the phone without permission. So she looooves it when she gets a turn.
So tonight, caller id announces it's yet another political call. I look at the four year old.
"Want to talk on the phone?" "YES!" I hand her the phone, tell her to answer it, and tell whoever it is that Mommy is busy.
"Hello?" (It's loud enough I can hear what's going on) "Hi. This is X from X Campaign. Is your mom or dad home?" "Yes." "Can we talk to them?" "What do you want me to say to them?" She's looking at me because she's forgotten to tell them I'm busy. "Just tell them we at X Campaign would like to talk to them about blah blah blah blah blah."
I'm thinking, this person is incredibly stupid for trying to give such a long message to such a small child, but whatever. The longer my kid keeps them on the phone, the more of their time and money we waste and the more I feel like I'm sticking it to the man.
"What?" "Can you just get your mom or dad?" "No. They don't want to talk to you. You have to talk to me."
By this point, I'm sitting here, trying not to laugh hysterically because she thinks she's doing me a huge favor, and if I laugh, her feelings will be hurt. She thinks her gatekeeper job is the most important job on the planet.
"Little girl. This is very important. Do your parents know you're on the phone? Phones are for grownups."
And I'm thinking... I don't like people who are condescending to my children, so now you've really got no chance of ever getting me in person.
"I can talk on the phone if I want to. What do you want?" "Can we talk to your parents?" Now she remembers. "My mom's busy." "Uh, we'll just call back later. Tell your mom and dad to vote for X."
Yeah, we'll be sure not to. But thanks for playing. Not only did I get a good laugh, but you gave me a blog topic. Next time you call, my kiddo is going to sing you a song. Those are the best. Or maybe I'll have her tell you about her Christmas list. She's already making one, and that's pretty funny to listen to her telling telemarketers. HA! Wouldn't that be funny. I'll vote for candidate X if you buy my kid all those ridiculous toys in the commercials.
I know, I'm a stinker. But you know, if you're going to call me without my permission, then I'm siccing my kids on you without your permission. Turnabout being fair play and all that.
Tonight, when I got home from teaching my class, my little one handed me a scribble paper and said, "Mom, I made this for you. Listen to what I wrote."
Here it is. The sweetest thing...
Mom, I love you like America. I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America. And to the republic, for which it stands, one nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.
Okay, so I realize she's only four and probably doesn't fully understand what that means... but it was still the cutest thing in the world to hear my little girl, saying with absolute sincerity, that she loved me like America, and stood there, reciting the pledge as though it was the most solemn vow because it somehow expressed how much she loves me.
So let's try something new, and since I have exactly six minutes left in Saturday, I'm going to participate. Plus, I have absolutely no idea what to blog about. So let's join in the Saturday Christian Fiction Carnival.
Here's the question:
Why do you read and review Christian fiction? Do you exclusively read Christian fiction or do you also read general market books?
My Answer:
I like to read and review Christian fiction because there are a lot of great books out there people need to know about.
And yes, I also read general market books. Love books of all kinds and love sharing the ones I love.
1. Cheeseburgers from last week I need to throw out. 2. Pea soup. 3. Sauerkraut and sausage 4. Milk 5. Ratatouille 6. Ketchup 7. Lime Juice 8. Yogurt 9. eggs 10. Misc veggies 11. a variety of salad dressings 12. mustard 13. butter (the real stuff)
I'd take a picture, but the kiddos lost the camera. I should also mention this isn't an all-inclusive list. I do have vulture children, after all, so if I don't have a full fridge, they eat the furniture.
The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others' comments. It’s easy, and fun! Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!
I'm going to admit right now to a bit of election angst. I've always pretty much voted with one particular party, however, there are a number of things this party wants to implement that really scare me. However, the other party is no better. I'm terrified of a few things they want to implement.
A friend of mine and I were talking and one of the interesting commentaries that came out of it was the question, how is this a democracy when our only choices are the lesser of two evils? When the choice is to choose which policy will hurt our families and countries the least?
I don't think we really have a choice. I don't think this is democracy.
Because I really don't know what the answer is, I decided that the best answer was to pray. To say, God, I want to cast the right vote, but I'd really like to look beyond my own self interest and conflicting feelings to choose the right candidate.
The answer surprised me. It was, simply, vote for the candidate you don't want to win.
WHAT?
As I prayed and reflected on Scripture, the reasoning was pretty clear. Do I trust God with the election? Do I trust His sovereignty and know that regardless of who takes office in January, HE will be in control? Throughout history, we've had good rulers and bad. Biblically, we've seen examples of life under persecution and life under reasonable peace. God had a plan.
God still has a plan, whether we greet President Obama or President McCain after the election. He's got it under control.
But because part of our responsibilities as Americans is that we are to vote, we need to vote on election day. We do need to educate ourselves on the things we're voting for or against. However, we also need to recognize that when all the votes have been counted, the hanging chads argued over, in the end, God is still God. No matter who ends up in the White House, this is still His country.
The chorus talks about having only one shot at the one thing you don't want to miss... I've been thinking a lot about that thought lately.
What's the one thing I don't want to miss?
Today, my sweet B turned 8.
The plan was for me to post something very sweet about her, showing pictures of how she's grown. Sadly, not a lot of her baby pics are digital and/or are somewhere in hubby's compy and I can't find them. However, I've spent the past couple of hours looking through all the photos on my computer, and I am overwhelmed by all the memories. So many moments. Some I remember so clearly. Some I don't. Others I wish would've happened differently. And many that until I looked back, I failed to appreciate just what magic they were.
For example, we often refer to the youngest as "The Terrorist." As I looked at pics of B at the same age and younger, I can remember some of the stories behind the pics... feeling frustrated because she was acting like such a monster. I forgot that we called B "The Monster."
The same little girl who, this past week at parent teacher conferences, was called "delightful." Her teacher couldn't say enough good about her. She's eager to learn, well-liked by the other students and staff, at or above grade level on all of her subjects. We walked through the book fair and a couple of girls randomly hugged her. I asked her what it was about and she looked genuinely confused. "I don't know, Mom, for some reason, everyone likes to hug me."
I know the reason.
I am so humbled by the incredible children we're raising. Friday night, we had a conversation with the senior in high school about her future plans. I was so amazed at what a level-headed young lady she's becoming. She's so intent on her goals. Tonight, hubby and I were talking about the college guy and how he's making some decisions requiring a great deal of maturity. I once spent hours on my knees over those two and the scrapes they got into. And here they are... not perfect, not done yet, but wow... I am in awe.
My daughter's teacher told us that it's clear she's in a good home with good parents raising her right. My friend Amy once told me that I was a good example to her and that she had a lot of admiration for me as a parent. So many days, I sit here, crying, praying, wondering how I'm going to get through the next day. How either my children or I will not survive their childhood.
I will tell you with all the honesty in me that any success I have had as a parent is because the Lord has carried us through it all. One of my favorite verses is I Samuel 7:12, where Samuel sets up a stone he names Ebenezer because "Thus far, the Lord helped us." As I looked through the photos tonight, I realized how many of them are Ebenezers to me. At each moment, I could clearly see, "thus far, the Lord has helped us."
When I look at the one thing I don't want to miss... this is it.
Each moment is so precious. Even the most desperate, the scariest, and yes, those times where the camera captures the absolute horror and panic over the latest horror the children have put me through. Those moments are the times when we can look back and clearly see just how God has helped us. You can't pick any single one of them to miss, because through the good and through the bad, God's mercy and grace shines through. And trust me, you don't want to miss it.
As many of you know, my Panera time is precious. It's my get away from it all and focus on writing time that I get three days a week. I savor that time. This week, I lost two days of Panera time. Monday, I volunteered at my daughter's book fair while the little one was in preschool. Today, B was off school, so I had her with me.
I have to admit, I've been a little resentful about giving up my Panera time. Summer without Panera time was miserable.
Last week, when my daughter was telling about being off school, realizing that her sister still had school, she said in a very excited tone, "Mommy! I get to have special Panera time with you!"
Again, because I am a less than perfect mommy, I thought, "GRR! That's MY time!" But I smiled and said, "sure, we can go to Panera."
As the days for our joint Panera venture drew near, her excitement grew. All she could talk about was how she got to go to Panera with Mommy. And I realized, how awesome is that to know that the very best thing my daughter could think of was going to her mom's favorite place to have a cup of tea and spend time together? One day, she's going to be too busy, or maybe not interested in hanging out with her old mom. How precious that I get that time now.
And then I thought of these folks I see regularly at Panera. It's an older couple, and they're there every time I am, having a cup of coffee and reading the paper. But every once and a while, their daughter joins them with her baby. I first noticed them when she was pregnant, and over the past year, I've watched her baby grow up.
At Panera, I've seen groups of little old ladies doing their Bible study, multi-generational groups come together to knit, businessmen doing their deals, people getting hired, people getting fired, and I can't help but think what an honor it is that I get to be a part of it all, even if it's only from a distance.
So today, I brought my little girl to Panera. I got my tea, she got hot chocolate. We shared a bagel. She told me about a song she's writing about the invisible friend sitting next to us that everyone has. God. She was so passionate about sharing that with me. I realized that if we'd stayed home, I'd have spent the morning yelling at her to clean her room or something like that. But because we went to Panera, we shared breakfast, we shared conversation, and we shared lives.
I hope that 10 or 15 years from now, she still wants to go to Panera with me. And it still makes her feel as special as she felt, walking through those doors, head high, smile on her face, and joy in her heart. And maybe, someone else who goes to Panera on the same days we do will watch her grow up the way I've watched this other baby, and it will bring the same blessing it's brought me.
One of my friends, the lovely Camy Tang, is a knitter. Over the past couple of months, I've gotten to spend time with her, and each time, she's amazed me with her skill. And the fact that while the rest of us were bored out of our gourds, she had something to do.
So... I've taken up knitting. Here's what my experience has been like so far:
1. Long tail cast-on... I spent an hour trying to figure it out and just could not get it right. I kept ending up with three loops instead of one. Camy laughed when I called her to tell her that.
2. I went to church, and found myself praying about knitting because I thought it'd be really cool to knit in church. (Is it rude to knit in church? I hope not!)
3. God must've liked that idea, because I came home, picked up the needles and was able to cast-on perfectly on the first try.
4. I think my needles are too big, because I keep getting tangled in them.
5. I also should not have gotten aluminum needles. The stuff keeps falling off. Camy says this happens with aluminum.
6. I really like knittinghelp.com for the information. I've been learning to knit from the videos alone.
7. Both Camy and my friend Allie (who is also a knitting queen) said Continental is easiest. I could not figure out how to get the stitch right until I saw this website.
8. I've been told knitting is a good stress reliever. I'm finding it semi-true... I like it when I'm in sync, but when I mess up, I get stressed.
9. I also think knitting will be a great way to make me more menacing... don't mess with me because I've got a pointy thing. HA!
10. One of my plans for knitting is that I'm going to use it as a prayer tool... as I knit a stitch, I'll be praying for something different. So far, it's pretty cool.
11. My kids are really excited that I'm knitting. Once I get the hang of it, I'm going to make it a mother/daughter thing.
12. Here is what I've done so far. Totally crappy, but totally mine. Love it!
13. Despite my progress, I still have not figured out how to untangle my yarn.
The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others' comments. It’s easy, and fun! Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!
I’ve been wrestling with this topic lately because someone I know is disappointed with things God has not done in her life. Where is God? Why is she still waiting on the promises He’s made?
I looked at her list and I thought… maybe God is waiting on her.
It reminds me of a poem by one of my favorite poets, Shel Silverstein. Lazy Jane wants a drink of water, so rshe lays there and waits it for it to rain. He says it better, but don’t want to infringe on copyright, so look it up. Sometimes we’re Lazy Jane when it comes to God. We want a drink of water, but instead of doing the obvious, and turning on the faucet, we sit with our mouths open and say, “God! Where are you?” He’s sitting up there saying, “The sink is ten feet in front of you!”
Granted, sometimes, God will put water in our mouths. But a lot of the time, He’s put the water out there and is just waiting for us to get up and get it. I’ve been guilty of this often enough. “Lord, fix this situation in my life.” Then I sit back and wait for Him to wave His magic wand and make it all better. It’s amazing how many times, when I go ahead and take that first step, He comes alongside me and starts to make things happen.
What have you asked God for? Is there something you can do to take a step in the direction of that thing? Because maybe, it’s not so much that He’s asking you to wait, but He’s pointing at the sink, waiting for you to get up and turn it on.
A lifelong bibliophile, I thought it would be fun to share the books that have most influenced my life and why... be surprised!
1. Secret of the Old Clock by Carolyn Keene. My first "chapter book". I read it when I was five. Borrowed it from an older neighbor girl and have been hooked ever since.
2. Witch's Harvest by Sara Craven. My first taste of Harlequins... mmm... yummy. And yes, I'm still an addict. Go figure.
3. The Spring of the Tiger by Victoria Holt. Not my first Holt, which was Legend of the Seventh Virgin (I know, I'm scary with remembering books), but she's another writer whose stuff I can't get enough of. Actually, she's my all-time favorite author.) Anyway, this was the first book that made me bawl my eyes out. I know the ending is supposed to be happy, but it wasn't very satisfying for me. I hated that Clayton's redeeming moment was his death.
4. Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis. Having not grown up in a Christian environment, I remember reading this book and thinking, "What? The guy who wrote those books I loved as a kid is a Christian?" It definitely made me rethink what I thought a Christian was and what I thought a Christian could write about.
5. The Ragamuffin Gospel by Brennan Manning. Probably the best reflection of who I am in my faith. LOVE this book.
6. I, Claudius by Robert Graves. My friend Jaime and I read this back in middle school. We thought we were so grown up for reading something so beyond what middle schoolers read. Still, I find the intrigue fascinating.
7. Hamlet by William Shakespeare. This really just shows how loony I am... I think I am one of the few people on the planet who thinks this should be labeled as one of his comedies, not a tragedy. I get giggles just thinking about it... "Get thee to a nunnery!"
8. Gone with the Wind by Margaret Mitchell. LOVE this book. Weird, because I need happy endings, but I always figured that Scarlett would've won him back in the end. I actually liked Scarlett. Hmmm... maybe that's why I have a hard time with likable heroines.
9. Like Water for Chocolate by Laura Esquivel. I KNOW! Some of you who know me well are thinking I'm nuts since I am such an advocate of happy endings. And no, I do not think it was a happy ending. Spoiler: They DIED. But there is something very beautiful and captivating about her writing that makes me read this book over and over. And even though they died, there is something incredibly powerful and romantic about the love they shared.
10. For Whom the Bell Tolls by Ernest Hemingway. Another weird book, since I haven't actually finished it. The bookmark is still at about 1/5 of the book. However, after reading that much of it, I can tell you why the guy was an alcoholic. Frankly, I had to stop reading it, otherwise, I'd become one myself. Wow, that stuff was dry. Anyway, this book taught me that while I love to read, a connoisseur of what others define as fine literature I am not.
11. The Republic by Plato. I am fascinated by this book. I actually almost just picked it up and started reading it again just now, but I held back. Each time I read it, I come away with something different, and sometimes even contradictory from what I last took away. This book makes me think a lot about life and government. Probably a good book for the election.
12. Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott. This should be every writer's bible. Really great book that reminds me to accept my writing process and go with it.
13. The Bible by God. I almost left this off the list, because I didn't want to sound trite. Every Christian names the Bible. And the truth is, I don't read it as much as I should, understand it as much as I want, and feel woefully inadequate when it comes to talking about this book. But everything in my life, everything I read, always draws me back to this one book. This one story that is the ultimate romance, the ultimate mystery, and the ultimate battle where good triumphs over evil. And in my opinion, those three things are absolutely necessary to make any read worth my time.
The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others' comments. It’s easy, and fun! Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!
I recently had the opportunity to reconnect with a friend I hadn't seen in a few years and meet her husband. She kept going on and on about her new home and how wonderful it was. I was excited for her, to see that after years of struggle, she was finally living her dream. I couldn't wait to see this amazing home that she couldn't stop talking about. She drove me through some beautiful country, past enormous beautiful homes, then turned down a little lane into...
A trailer park.
We pulled up in front of an old dilapidated trailer. When I described it to a friend, she made the comment to the extent of, "so basically we're talking aqua appliances and pink toilets." Um, no. Think older.
Her amazing house is a single wide trailer, two bedrooms, one bathroom, and you can see a lot of places where frankly, it's falling apart. She escorted me into the living room, cleared off some papers from a chair that she proudly told me they pulled out of a dumpster, and they invited me to sit. After all, it was the best seat in the house.
I'll be honest. At first, I was a bit disgusted. The place was rundown and dirty. She made a comment about how I don't keep a very clean house, so she didn't think I'd mind that she hadn't picked things up, but let me just say that I have never allowed my home to get that dirty. When I left, I was picking dirt and fuzz and hair off my clothes and I honestly have no idea where it came from.
But what do you say? She was so happy, so proud, and it hit me. I'm a big meanie. Who am I to judge how she lives? It may not be the home I'd want for myself, but she loves it. Later, we were talking and her husband made the comment that someday they'd like a real house with a real yard. But for now, they own this house. It's completely paid off. They pay utilities, HOA for the trailer park, and get this... $50 a year in property taxes. As he put it, they have everything they need. Why, then, would they go into debt for something else?
I left their home feeling almost envious. They didn't need a big house, nice things, or any of the other "stuff" society tells us is important. They were happy enough without. With the current financial crisis, I can't help but think that this couple is the wisest couple I know. They haven't bought into the lie of bigger being better. They haven't bought into the lie of buy now, pay later. They accept what they have with utter gratitude.
Last night, I chatted with a friend who shared her thoughts on the financial crisis. She and I prepare taxes for folks who live in McMansions, making less money than we do. I've griped in past blogs about people who make less money than we do, who drive fancy cars, wear nice clothes, and have all this "stuff". They also have a lot more debt. As I told my friend, I'm actually surprised the crisis didn't happen sooner, and that it's not a lot worse. But maybe we haven't seen the worst yet.
I know, pessimistic thinking. But honestly, what did we expect? At some point, the buy now, pay later philosophy demands to get paid.
My friend Kay has a great post talking about how we got into this mess. She also links to a great article. So check it out.
I've had to take a long, hard look lately at what it means to be satisfied. We just bought a bigger house last summer (for the record, our mortgage is almost the same as it was with the old house... that was intentional). But honestly, as much as I gripe about not having enough space, we do not need five bedrooms and four bathrooms. Really, given that much of the world lives with barely a roof over their head, I could probably make do with a lot less.
The reality is, we've replaced God with stuff. And because stuff is not God, we're never going to be satisfied as long as our goals and dreams revolve around stuff. As much I think some sort of bailout needs to happen for the sake of the country, we need to get real and realize that the only thing that's going to save us is to jump off this roller coaster and stop spending money we don't have on stuff we don't need.
I know, talk about long time no blog. My most humble apologies. ACFW kept me running and then I ended up with a nasty virus. I came online to work and that's about it. And okay, I admit, I played a little Crackrat. But that's because it's mostly mindless and all I had to do was click the little buttons to get my points and cards.
Soo... here I am... returning from a long (well, seemingly so) absence from my beloved blog.
Tell me, what have I missed in the blogosphere? Any posts I need to hunt down and re-read?
Speaking of time with great friends, I've gotten to spend some time at the ACFW conference with my good friend, Camy Tang, and talk about her latest release, Single Sashimi.
1. What's the story behind Single Sashimi?
Here’s the back cover blurb:
Drake Yu. Why would Drake call her after … what, five years? Six?
Venus heard in his voice that resonance that was almost a growl, that titanium-hard determination to get what he wanted. And he usually got what he wanted. The voice said: “I want you to work for me.”
Not this time… If it was a choice between Drake and McDonald’s—she’d choose french fries. She’d never work for him again. It would take an act of God.
Venus Chau is determined to start her own game development company and launch the next Super Mario-sized phenomenon. However, she needs an investor to back her idea. When Drake Yu, an old nemesis, approaches Venus with a contracting opportunity at his sister’s startup, the offer to become Chief Operating Officer tempts Venus to think the unthinkable.
Venus would rather throw away her PS3 than work for Drake again … except Grandma bribes Venus to do this favor for Drake’s wealthy family with a coveted introduction to the most respected investor in the game industry. It’s also a short job—only a few months—so Venus won’t have to stand Drake’s presence for very long.
But one wild youth group, a two-faced assistant, and Grandma’s determined match-making threaten to make them both fail—or go insane. With the encouragement of her three cousins, Lex, Trish, and Jennifer, Venus discovers that even a wounded heart can undergo a beautiful transformation …
2. How'd you learn so much about the video game stuff for the book?
A friend of mine, Stephanie Quilao, who runs the popular Back in Skinny Jeans blog (http://backinskinnyjeans.com/), used to work for Nvidia, a company that makes all kinds of things related to video graphics and gaming. She gave me the idea because of the things she told me about the video game industry.
Then a fellow youth staff worker at my church got me in touch with his sister who happens to know everyone on the planet. She got me in touch with a few engineers who work in video game companies—one is a programmer, the other is a designer. They helped me with all the nitty gritty stuff, basically creating Venus’s Spider program.
3. What was the best part about writing the book?
I absolutely love Venus. I wish I could be her. And writing Drake was just too cool. He ended up being more sexy than I expected him to turn out. So writing their scenes was a lot of fun.
4. What do you hope readers take away from this story?
That there is hope for control freakazoids like me and Venus. Oh, you mean something meaningful? That God really is in control, and that there is hope for control freakazoids like me and Venus.
5. What's the one thing you wish people would ask you because you're dying to give an answer, and what is that answer?
Why is your dog Snickers a butthead?
We really don’t know, except that she came that way from the Humane Society. She is very friendly toward people but she has a problem with dogs. Any dogs. If they’re small dogs, she sees them as prey. If they’re big dogs, she wants to pick a fight. She’s messed up in the head. But she’s very cute and we love her anyway.
Thanks for having me here, Danica! Camy Tang writes romance with a kick of wasabi. She used to be a biologist, but now she is a staff worker for her church youth group and leads a worship team for Sunday service. She also runs the Story Sensei fiction critique service. On her blog, she gives away Christian novels every Monday and Thursday, and she ponders frivolous things like dumb dogs (namely, hers), coffee-geek husbands (no resemblance to her own...), the writing journey, Asiana, and anything else that comes to mind. Visit her website at http://www.camytang.com/ for a huge website contest going on right now, giving away ten boxes of books and 30 copies of her latest release, SINGLE SASHIMI.
For those of you who don't know, I'm in Minneapolis, at the ACFW Conference. Great times, great times.
1. I've been super stressed for the past week over everything I had to do to get ready, and I was positive I was forgetting something. 2. Now, I really don't care. Whatever it is, it'll work out. 3. However, I am super tired. Too many late nights and early mornings lately. Scary for the first day of the conference. I skipped out on part of a session to take a nap. 4. Airport funny: They called our flight to board, and I started rummaging through my purse, looking for, not my boarding pass, which was in my hand, but my car keys. To the surprise of my fellow passengers, I triumphantly pulled them out only to realize with great embarrassment that um, I don't need them. Blaming lack of sleep on that one. 5. It's really hard to use my laptop to write on the plane when the person in the seat in front of me decides to recline. 6. I did, however, get six or seven pages written. (Let's not discuss the fact that after Camy and I brainstormed last night, I've since realized that I'll need to delete an entire chapter in the beginning.) 7. Another funny freakout moment: I'm at the hotel, and I notice they have a giftshop. The sign says, "Minnesota gifts." My thought: why on earth would they have a Minnesota gift shop in... oh yeah, I guess I am in Minnesota. 8. Why is it that when TSA chooses to rifle through your belongings, that they cannot at least put things back the way they found them? 9. Despite the fact that I have a wifi card, I can never get the hotel wifi. I always have to hardwire in. 10. I LOVE that many airports now have free wireless, which I can get with no trouble. 11. After you've been to so many conferences, it all begins to have a very familiar routine. I kinda like that. 12. Meeting new friends from all over the world is such a joy and blessing. 13. But the greatest blessing of traveling all over the place for conferences and things is getting to see your most beloved friends. There's just not enough time, but it sure is precious when you get to spend it with them.
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So we've all figured out I'm in a bad mood, right? I've been in this funk pretty much all week. I don't WANT to be in a bad mood, and I keep trying to NOT be in a bad mood, but the grumpies keep taking over. I keep trying to see the upside of things, I keep trying to do the right thing, and it feels like this dark cloud hanging over me just gets heavier and heavier.
This morning, I called my beloved Squirly and before I even said anything she said, "I'm so glad you called, is everything okay with you? You've been heavy in my heart and I've been praying for you." So we talked for a while, and it was so wonderful to hear her voice. In just five more days, I'm going to get a big hug and some huge squeals of delight outta that girl.
I love that I have friends who still love me even when I'm fighting the grumpies.
My husband read my blog this morning and called me in a panic... "What's wrong? I read your blog."
Nothing's wrong. I'm just grumpy.
I'm fighting it, or at least trying to. So in my effort to fight the grumpies, I've worked extra hard to be extra nice to people. Thus far, it has consistently backfired. My attempts to add humor to my friends' lives? Completely taken the wrong way. I actually spent this morning emailing back and forth with the same person apologizing, then re-apologizing for apologizing, etc.
So I give up!
I'm not going to try to be nice to anyone. I'm not going to apologize to anyone else. I'm not going to pretend I'm not in a bad mood. And I'm not even going to try to figure out why.
I am what I am. Today, I am grumpy. Maybe tomorrow, I will be happy again. But today, we're just going to accept me and say, "I love you anyway."
