Safe and Secure

Thank the Lord for answered prayers! The following is a glimpse of my thoughts from four years ago. 

Reading through it ... giggling ... I sit in awe. Shaking my head. Humbled and overwhelmed by how foreign and powerless these fears seem to me today. (Not the physical stuff ... heights still scare me to death and back.) 

But I'm amazed at the courage He provides for the life adventures He designs. He is faithful to heal and help us grow. I look forward to reading this year's posts in a few years ... hoping for more evidence of His mercy and grace! 

July 2010
I finally opened "So Long Insecurity", my new book by Beth Moore. It may be noteworthy that I struggled with anxiety about even reading a book with "Insecurity" in the title.

Whisper it gently, "(head case)!"
Thirty-six pages have now entered my consciousness.

My Man

14 Reasons why I love my funny valentine...

1. Blue eyes...can't get enough of 'em.

2. Accented slang...he talks like a hick, and ironically, I dig it.

3. Friendly...he's just a really friendly guy.

4. Strong hands...he refused to use the bar of soap in the hotel once because he couldn't wash his hands with "something that snaps in half every two seconds"...brute?

5. Affectionate Dad...all the kids bask in his tenderness.

6. Hard work...he possesses not one ounce of laziness.

7. Home Run maniac...that boy got skills.

8. Blossoming musician...he has always had a song in his heart, and after years of my "nearness", he can actually sing on key.

9. Fixer-guy...I never pay a repairman, rarely a mechanic, only seldom a plumber. I tell ya - the boy got SKILLS.

10. Optimist...things in Philip's world are either "all good" or "awesome".

11. Provider...I never have to wonder if we'll have what we need. PTL

12. Chatter box...he uses twelve thousand minutes and 700 texts per month just making people feel known and needed.

13. God lover...though I truly feel loved by Philip, I always have the sense that he loves Someone else more...and I wouldn't want it any other way.

14. After all these years, he still thinks he loves me more than I love him ... it's just so precious. Incorrect, but precious.

Fifteen

I'm thankful for the do-over.

I have cooked 3 turkeys in my life. Only once have I successfully followed through with removing ALL the "inclusions" before cooking.

Those paper bags of belly guts withstand high levels of sustained heat surprisingly well. (Sorta makes the turkey dry and slightly reminiscent of a kiss from a Marlboro Man, but whatev.)

The first time I was ignorant. Trying to rinse off the bird without getting too "personal" ... I had no idea that the processors thought I might be interested in a neck and some giblet junk.

The second time, I remembered to really clean out the cavernous fowl.

But then, last week, I did a trial run for the holidays. I rinsed the bird, washed my hands to help with a math problem, and went back to the sink to remove the neck. Then my prep work was interrupted again with someone needing my attention at the back of the house. (I've lost many a decent idea in that hallway as I traverse the floors of this home - attempting to mult-task.) Upon my return to the kitchen, noticing time was tight to have supper ready, I quickly loaded the turkey into the oven.

Long story short: I might be a moron. A highly publicized moron, since my kids got an enormous kick out of my culinary mis-hap and told their friends.

Short story long: this is only one example in which information and experience prove insufficient in my quest for consistent excellence.

So I am grateful for second [and third and forty-seventh] chances.

Thirteen

I'm thankful for family road trips ... opportunities to be a helper in the car:)

 

No Style

This makes me laugh.

May you find opportunity to worship God in Spirit and in Truth:)

 

 

Gone For a Dip

Tonight I experienced one of those Mom moments that for me are too few and far between.

I belly laughed with my daughters.

I'm a fun girl, but shamefully, my kids see the least amount of my happiness. I'm working on surrendering my agenda and preferences so that I can cheerfully invest in their lives ... not just manage them. But I have much to surrender, so it's a slow process.

Anyway, we were swimming this evening. Just the girls and me. In the rain. "Please go under! You don't have eye make-up on, so PLEASE go under!" They begged. I smiled at the beautiful, cheering crowd that surrounded me in the shallow end.

I buckled my knees and plunged beneath the surface. I bounced back to my feet to greet fresh air, rain drops, and applause. "Do it again!" They cheered.

"Wanna see my handstand?" I teased.

A Moooving Tale

There have been a few times that I've felt like a cow.

Seriously.

Once, I tried a piece of turkey jerky ... say that four times really fast. It's so fun! Anyway, I was chewing and chewing and starting to gross out at the texture of gum coupled with the flavor of teriyaki. I felt like I was chewing my cud.

Also, there are the memories of surgeries. The part where I'm still awake, but numb from the chest down. Nurses are transitioning me to the O.R. gurney. I'd love to help the group effort by lifting my legs or scooching my hips. But alas, I am forced to lie there in a sheet sling as they hoist me onto the second surface. Not a very light and airy feeling. I felt like a beefed out cow slung in the straps of the slaughter house.

Flashback Friday

(Originallly posted 5/31/07)

To Top It All

Ok, so I'm driving home from our local discount superstore, and I glance over at the lady driving the neighboring SUV. She held a jar in one hand while bracing the steering wheel with that elbow. I watched as she used her other hand to untwist the jar's lid while steering with her other elbow!

My thoughts were mainly focused on how dangerous that seemed....

Top Ten but Better:)

Today is 11/11/11. 


And I am a pattern NERD, so today is lovely by very virtue of it's recorded date.

So...for today....

Eleven ways my kids amuse me:
muffled chatting & giggling of roommates behind closed doors
the littlest one ALWAYS says "thanks for a great lunch, Mom"...she has heard it all her life.
when they gasp at my hair-do...45 seconds before I'm REALLY done.

Happy 4th of July

MariAlice, Philip & Elizabeth enjoying sparklers after dark.

The Women's Bill of Rights from comedian, Anita Renfroe
*Women are entitled to refuse entrance to the bathroom to any family member at any time.
*There shall be no requirement forced upon a woman to reveal the whereabouts of chocolate in the house.

Glory Be

It all started when my friend who cuts my hair had the nerve to birth a baby.

She willfully made herself unavailable to oversee the maintenance of my hair.

(ok, so it's not her fault...in fact, she comes back at the end of this story and redeems the entire situation...)

For most of the spring, I have been growing my hair out. Despite the less-than-pleasing Sunday morning results, the effortless weekday ponytails were a time-saving treat. But my brother is graduating with his PhD this weekend, and I felt I should honor his accomplishment with a bit of a trim. (it's all about me, really:)

Saturday, I was able to secure an appointment at a reputable salon, where I have enjoyed occasional beauty treatments over the years. I told the "stylist" that I needed a "trim", that I don't style my hair everyday, and that being able to put my hair in a ponytail was "really important" to me. We agreed I just needed a bit of a "re-shaping".

She was sweet, and kind, and talkative . Her own hair was quite cute and her general appearance was a lovely blend of tidy and trendy. However, we apparently had a MAJOR break-down in communication.

From my front-facing vantage in the pump-it-up swivel chair, things went well. My bangs were good - not a lot of change. My sides seemed to lack sufficient layers , but, you can't judge until you have a chance to style it yourself. I never really saw the back.

Until it was too late.

There are few scenarios in life that render me speechless - incapable of sharing my honest opinion. Off the top of my head, (no pun intended) here are three: when a mom just giggles at her tantrum-throwing toddler; when someone smokes their cigarette near my lunch plate; and when the stylist hands me a mirror, reveals my fresh new mullet, and says, "What do you think?"

Gulp. "Oh, yes. It IS much shorter."

She happily agreed, "I took a lot of the weight off!"

Had she been referring to my belly or arms, and not the crown of my head, we'd be best friends today!

I paid her. Oh dear myrtle, I paid for this.

We parted ways and I assumed that whatever I had just seen in the double reflection was a grave styling error, or a difference in products, or the result of excessive teasing with hairspray. I pacified my anxiety with a big clip and the hope of a prompt shampoo.

After several more inspections at home, I began to come to grips with the harsh reality that I possessed three or four separate and painfully distinct hair-cuts: my crown has cut very similarly to my mom's...just a couple inches long, the bottom layer of the back lay resting at my shoulder blades, the sides along my face were all one length cropped just above my shoulders, and my bangs survived as a remnant of the spring - reminiscent all things reasonable.

A not-so-excellent adventure: Bill or Ted, you pick.

Bon Jovi?

No. Do you remember Elly May from the Beverly Hillbillies? Filmed in the 60's she had a bouffant on top, but she still managed to tie a long, curly ponytail behind each ear. Yeppy-doodles. Pinned the tail on the critter!

In total, somewhat uncharacteristic vanity and emotion, I literally cried myself to sleep that night. As I showered the next morning, I prayed for a miracle. I tiny little miracle for restoration. Nope. Just the opportunity to blow dry four separate lengths of hair...and then stick it back in a clip.

Those side dog-ear things were grace. Not kidding. They allowed me to pull all my hair up from the sides and back and twist it into a clip, cleverly disguising the crown of bed-head sprigs throughout two worship services and a choir meeting.

Monday morning, I texted my postpartum pal. I told her of my plight. She felt my pain and agreed to meet me that afternoon to "look at it". From my description, she could not make any promises concerning a solution.

She mercifully diminished her grin as I walked in the door. She brushed; I whined. She comforted; I laughed. I described; she laughed. While the giggles subsided, the verdict was reached.

As I had assumed, the only means of restitution was a "greater sacrifice" of hair. She had to crop and chop until the back made more contextual sense. She layered the sides and blended my bangs into the new do.

She was the miracle I prayed for. Sweet friend.

The kids LOVE the new summer crop. Philip is not a fan. He can say it's cute, but we all know the truth. He stated the obligatory: "I'd think you were beautiful no matter what." psh.

Now. The previous [ridiculous] paragraphs are filled with earthly perspective and discontent. It was real. The earthy discontent. The ridiculousness.

I think of all the women who did not have to struggle with extremely bad hair this weekend. Not just the cute girls who seem to sport perfectly sleek coifs at all times. But my friends and sisters who don't have to worry about bad hair, because they have no hair. Chemicals and disease wage war within their blood stream and cute hair has been the first of many casualties.

Moreover, this sequence of events causes me to consider the journey toward inner beauty. Sometimes, through negligence or maltreatment, horrible missteps are taken. It is a possibility to just to hide it, ignore it, wait it out, and deal with it later.

A better, less comfortable, more presentable option might be to "reshape" some MORE. Let Someone with a truthful eye and skillful, merciful hands cut and sculpt and shape and shave.

Though you never wished for this particular outcome, in light of recent mistakes, the redeemed version is quite preferable - more livable in the long run.

God, forgive my vanity. Forgive my covetousness and ungratefulness. Thank You, for friends and family who love me and look at me through Your loving mercy. Thank You for miracles of every kind. You are wonderful!

"There is nothing concealed that will not be disclosed...What I tell you in the dark, speak in the daylight; what is whispered in your ear, proclaim from the roofs...are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from the will of your Father. And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows." Jesus, in Matthew 10:26-31

Egg-cellente' Concluded

Wow.

Thunderstorms and tornadoes have marched through our area all evening. Philip is working. The kids are in bed. I am REALLY tired, but just wanted to document what a fun day today was...wacky fun until the deafening destruction and all. Plus also, there are whopper robin eggs in the cabinet, and if I blog, chances are I won't finish them off. When Philip is working a storm, I can't sleep, but have no problem soothing my anxiety with substantial late night snacking.

ok, back to today. The boys spent the morning tearing down the "Sacrifice" set while the girls and I bought groceries and ran errands. Evidently, I returned to the church to retrieve them just before they were to receive their reward: a BURGER. You can't be messin' with a workin' man's BURGER!

I agreed to provide Subway sandwiches to reward their efforts AND keep the kitchen clear for grocery disbursement. After lunch, the dark skies threatened, so we rushed outside to have another plastic egg hunt. Elizabeth enjoyed the game so much over the weekend, we thought it cruel to withhold another round.

Oh wait. I forgot to mention that I put the remnants of last week's eggs in a pot of water to boil, so as to simultaneously make room in fridge for the new box and prepare ingredients for salmon salad.

THEN we all went outside.

Oh, fatigue just clicked up a notch. I'll have to finish this post later. Remind me to show you the awesome baseball photos I took, and to tell you about the eggs. ohhhh, the eggs. The eggs.

*****

Ok, so the eggs were on to boil, and we were hunting dozens of colorful eggs outside.

I took pictures of Elizabeth squatting over opened eggs, with whopper slobber happily oozing from her smile. Since I had the camera, the other kids wanted me to capture some of their athletic finesse on film. Huge fun! Sports Photo-Journalism might be my next big thang:)

I got several shots of Ardyn snagging grounders. I scored by framing Luke mid-air as he caught a fly ball. I snapped several pictures of Ashlin throwing and catching and hitting --the theme of these was "eyes closed". (Philip was less than thrilled and barely believed her defense: "I was squinting because it was bright.")

We must have been out there for almost an hour. I strolled back toward the patio thinking, "Man, this is great. Fun kids, good photos, strong breeze..." Just then, Ardyn, who had gone inside for a drink of water, came screaming out into the yard.

I could not understand what she was saying, but she was completely frantic. (But, honestly, her typical response to normal events can be frantic and exuberant. I assumed my cell phone had rung or something.) I walked past her through the doorway, assuring her I was not in the mood to speak to anyone.

In the next few seconds, the collision of sensory perceptions jarred me from my apathetic opinion of text messages.

I saw smoke. I smelled funk. I heard popping.

As I quizzed myself on who might have authorized a snack, I recognized the pan from my earlier task. The eggs! Evidently, the water had evaporated several minutes earlier. And EVIDENTLY, eggs left near a heat source unattended will pop out of their shells like kernels of corn in hot oil.

Just as I tried to move the pan off the stove, another egg popped, rocketing sharp sulfuric debris into the air. I jumped back instinctively.

Ok, negatory on moving the pan without protective gear.

As I contemplated my next move, another egg exploded.

Ok, negatory on leaving the eggs on the burner.

I grabbed a large pot lid from the sink, and using it as a shield, I advanced toward the stove, slammed the lid down over the pot, flipped off the burner power, and retreated to my earlier point of assessment.

From safe vantage, I realized the pan (and my house) was filled with thick smoke. For some reason, water seemed appropriate to me. Carrying the pan at arms length, I shoved it under running cold water.

Oh, good. A geyser of rotten-egg steam billowed up and saturated the air around the sink...the air around my face.

B.L.E.C.K!

I took the pan of gym-sock-stew out to the yard. Back indoors, I opened windows, turned on exhaust fans, lit candles, and cleaned the kitchen with industrial strength citrus cleanser. The a/c kicked on, and I let her ride! Thank You, God for central air filtration systems!!

Mari saw the pan and heard the tale, and simply shook her head in pitiful dismay.

She offered to walk out to the WAY back yard and dump the slump. On her way back, the storm system approached from the west, and rain began to fall. We gathered around the picnic table to make sure we had consumed all the candy from the overshadowed egg hunt.

Once we came inside, the horrid stench had downgraded to merely an awful smell.

But wait, don't answer yet...

No one noticed that Oscar-dog sneaked back to the woods to see what all the fuss had been about. Well, no one noticed until he regurgitated the contents of the pan onto the floor in the hall.

BLECK. DOUBLE-BLECK!!!!!

And....that was our very exciting day! Luckily we only have photographic evidence of the good stuff. We're all good. However, I have removed all egg-associated meals from the menu until July.

It's just too soon.

Thank You, God, for your mercy- for not allowing our house to burn down. I confess I am NOT good at multi-tasking. My memory is frail, and my attention is distracted and diverted much of the time. Thank You for watching over us. Thank you for my wonderful kids. Thank You for Philip. Did we make You giggle today? Just wondering:)

Web Master

I'm a google NERD.

I love research, but the Internet makes it almost too easy. You can find huge amounts of information with very little effort. (This can be good AND a not-so-good.)

I frequently scoot over to dictionary.com and bible.com. But my favorite is the good ol' google box. For this reason...

Every day, the kids ask me all kinds of weird questions. The answers to which I either can't remember or don't know. SO i google.

"Why are m&m's called m&m's"

"Why is the mockingbird our state bird?"

"Is there a casting crowns concert we could go to?"

"what's that little dip in your upper lip called..the dent between your nose and top lip?"

"Is Dr. Seuss dead?"

"Who thought of hot dogs?"

Just this evening, Philip was marveling how his ear infection may have came from congested sinus passage ways. "Why would God design it that way?"

Having not even a clue, I immediately googled, "sinus cavities and ear canal", and began my report: "Well, dear...where shall I begin??"



By his abrupt exit, I assume his curiosity was rhetorical. And oddly enough, I have no sense that my efforts were in vain.

Knowledge is bliss.

Ever Tried This??

Today's Recipe --though the idea that you need a recipe for this is comical -- is in honor of my Mom's favorite sandwich: Peanut Butter, Lettuce, and Miracle Whip. I googled it to see if she is alone in her quirky preference. She is not. Evidently, in the depression era, the sandwich was a popular choice for an inexpensive lunch option. Those folks made it for their kids. Now those kids have grown up, retired, and are still loving their wacko sandwich:)



Ingredients
2 slices bread
1 tablespoon Miracle Whip
2 tablespoons peanut butter
2 lettuce leaves

Directions
Spread one slice of bread with Miracle Whip. Spread the other slice with peanut butter. Place lettuce leaves on top of the peanut butter, then top with the Miracle Whip-side of the other piece of bread to make a sandwich.

ok, I said this post was to honor mom's choice for lunch today. It was really an excuse to post a photo that would gross out the baby brother. How we doin' JW??

I believe I tried this combo once back in '78. Not a fan. If we're having peanut butter, I would like it with honey. If we need to eat lettuce, I'll have it with turkey and mayo. Me no likey the "whip"....it sorta tastes like old mayo with sugar added. Just sayin.

Mom, I hope you enjoyed your lunch. James, leave her alone, she has thousands of like-minded partakers across the country. I love you both no matter what you ate for lunch!

Ironic

My brother found this at a garage sale.

I find this wildly amusing.

Friday Favorites

If you ask me what my favorite thing to do is, I'll probably say, "reading to the kids."

And I'll start to rattle off all the wonderful books we've read together.

And if you ask me which is my favorite, it would be a difficult decision - but I'll probably settle on a "Mercy Watson" book by one of my favorite authors, Kate DiCamillo.

If you ask me to read it to you, I'll probably say yes.

I'll open the book and I'll read, "Mr. & Mrs. Watson had a pig named 'Mercy'. Mercy loved to eat hot toast with a great deal of butter on it."

That very yummy thought will be really distracting. Soon we'll have to stop so I can make one of my favorite snacks: "hot toast with a great deal of butter."

The warm, buttery, toasty smell will cause the kids to come in and ask for some too.

So I'll make enough for everyone.

And after we have finished, and we all have warm, full bellies, the children will want me to sit on the couch and read them a book.

And that's ok, because reading books is one of my favorite things to do.

But we'll have to choose a good one.

And if we have to pick just one, it will probably be a "Mercy Watson" book.

So I'll open the book and read, "Mr. & Mrs. Watson had a pig named 'Mercy'. Mercy loved to eat hot toast with a great deal of butter on it."

And soon we'll have to stop...

VBS: Kid Quotes

Monday, we visited "Rhoda"s house in Bible times. She was telling us about Peter having escaped from prison when the thundering sound of Roman soldiers filled the room. The kids all hid under blankets as directed. When the footfalls faded, the children emerged from their hiding places wondering if the soldiers had "really" been there. After a few moments of surmising, one noticeably astute youngster hypothesized, "Hey! I bet it was just a recording of soldier feet playing over those two really big, black boom boxes up there!"

Secrets revealed.

Tuesday, we were sailing a ship through a storm with Paul - another prisoner for Christ. Water bottles spritzed and storm sounds roared, as we tripped and swayed along the deck. After throwing all our cargo overboard [onto the huge blue tarps], I explained that our boat was about to run aground and we were going to have to jump ship. One little girl immediately raised her hand and reported, "I have a really big problem." I asked her to explain. She continued resolute, "If we have to jump overboard, I have an ear infection and I'm not supposed to get water in my ears."

30 bonus points for believability.

Wednesday, our associate pastor played the part of Paul. In full Biblical garb, Paul approached our group as we sat around a camp fire on the slithering island of Malta. One little fellow whispered to his teacher, "That guy looks really familiar!" Remaining in character, the teacher replied, "Sure. It's the apostle Paul. We released him from the ship yesterday...he must have swam to shore." After a brief pause, and another good look at Paul, the boy stood fast. "Nope. I'm pretty sure I've seen that guy at W@lm@rt!"

We might need to increase next year's hair & make-up budget.

Taking Texans by Surprise

One wintery morning...

Squatty & his snowman became friends.

Three non-virus-infected children...

Brave 2 mile-an-hour winds.

Photos by: CDJ 2-12-10
Text by: Squatty

In Review

So the boys & I just finished watching "Wait Until Dark" - the old Audrey Hepburn suspense thriller about a blind woman who falls prey to a home invasion of con artists, drug dealers, and murderers.

As Landen was processing all the anxious moments he had fearfully endured, he assessed: "Man, things woulda been a whole lot easier if she hadn't been blind!"

(Join us again next Friday night as we explore further intricacies of character development and plot resolution with LP.)