Grown Up

Older and Wiser

2009-01-11T18:00:00.000-05:00

There is a reason older, wiser people just look at those of us who are younger as though we will get it 'some day.' They do not have words to explain that the things we think matter, do not. And perhaps they do not know exactly what matters, either." ~Donald Miller, author of Blue Like Jazz

Wishing a Happy Birthday to my older (by 6 months), but not necessarily wiser, brother-in-law!

Resolutions...Day 2

2009-01-02T18:45:00.002-05:00

So enough of the serious, boring resolution stuff. Time for resolutions that might really happen! That might really make my life better, happier, and more fulfilling.

Or not. Either way, here goes....I resolve to:

1. To download more podcasts from Relevant, Mars Hill , and NPR (ok, mostly "Wait, Wait Don't Tell Me") to listen to while I work out.
2. To never cut a bagel with our bread knife again. (Still wearing the bandaid from last week's thumb cut-- I'll make hubby do it)
3. To watch more YouTube videos. Especially involving pandas, bengal cats, and babies singing Broadway songs.
5. To smoke a hookah. And try more wine. (either cheer me on or pray for me--as you feel led)
6. To get into my comfy pants more quickly following work. Maybe I should just put them in the car.
7. To organize my sock drawer. And throw away the plethora of underwear that get pushed to the back of the drawer because they give me a wedgie. And use the word "plethora" more often.
8. To call my children more often just to talk. Even if it leads to them asking for money.
9. To try harder to appreciate people who have a different personality than me. (look out ISTJ's!)
10. To text less and call more. And not use "LOL" ever again. Ever.

2009-01-02T08:17:00.002-05:00

Resolving

2008-12-31T16:52:00.000-05:00

"So let us summon a new spirit of patriotism, of responsibility, where each of us resolves to pitch in and work harder and look after not only ourselves but each other."
~President-Elect Barack Obama, in his acceptance speech, November 4th, 2008

Have you made any New Year's resolutions? I googled to find out the most common ones:
lose weight
get organized
get out of debt
learn something new
spend more time with family

"Getting out of debt" may top "losing weight" this year in the uncertain economic climate. I'm planning to work on both--consumerism is bad for our waistline and our pocketbooks!

"Help others" is actually on a lot of people's lists, but following through with such altruistic leanings can be tough. Last year I resolved to give someone a gift every week. I realized that most Christmases I can remember what I gave other people better than I can remember what I was given. It's not that I don't appreciate the gifts, it's just that I tend to spend a lot more time thinking about what people might like, and I enjoy watching them open a well-picked gift even more than I like getting one (maybe I just need to write more thank you notes, but then that's a post for another day!). The plan was to give inexpensive gifts, nothing major--just a little something to remind the recipients (sometimes anonymously) that someone cared about them. I gave a co-worker who liked fresh brewed tea a special tea cup. I gave a mentally challenged friend a craft kit she loved. I took a friend to lunch and treated. Nothing that cost me much in dollars or effort really, and the appreciation and thanks I received was rewarding. It was good to be reminded that I'm blessed and that I should share my blessings.

I don't remember exactly how long it lasted, but I know it wasn't more than a couple of months. Like most people that make resolutions, I slowly began to skip a week, then gradually just quit. Being a giver wasn't hard, remembering to be a giver was hard. You have to keep thinking about other people and what they might like and looking for opportunities to give. I don't think I consciously decided to stop-- I just let it go.

My husband is always reminding me that you need to have clearly defined goals if you want to accomplish something. I agree with that, but you also have to have stamina and determination to make a change and to follow through. They say it's good to have a friend to hold you accountable to your goals. Maybe I needed a 'giving buddy'--someone to spur me on to do good deeds and remind me of my promise.

It may be a tough year for you and me. "You never know what's coming for you..", says the mother in The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. What ever the good Lord sends our way, let's all resolve to do what our soon-to-be new president suggests and " look after not only ourselves but each other". And if anyone needs a "giving buddy", let me know!

"This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers. If anyone has material possessions and sees his brother in need but has no pity on him, how can the love of God be in him? Dear children, let us not love with words or tongue but with actions and in truth." (1 John 3:16-18)

Merry Christmas to All

2008-12-24T08:00:00.003-05:00

The Evening Prayer
from the book The Fire on the Hearth in Sleepy Hollow: A Christmas Poem of the Olden Time
(published in 1864)

" BUT now the hour draws near for prayer--
The father takes with reverent air
The Holy Book from well known place
And reads with inward prayer for grace
The holy Gospel's wondrous story--
How angels from the realms of glory
Appeared and sang at Jesus's birth--
"Good will to man and peace on earth"
Then each one kneeling by his chair
The patriarch leads the evening prayer
With earnest heart and simple word
And tremulous lips he thanks the Lord
He had to one so old as he
And sinful as he grieved to be
By blood bought mercy given leave
To see another Christmas eve
And oh to Heaven what praise there goes
Like fragrance from a broken rose
From the old patriarch's trembling prayer
For those who bow beside him there
His children and their children fair
With simple child like form of speech
Which never fails God's ear to reach
He prays that He who came to earth
To take our form by human birth
And knew the feelings of a child
And taught and died and reconciled
Offended Heaven and sinful man
Would by redeeming love and plan
Save him and his loved children all
From the sad ruin of the Fall--
Bring him and his their sins forgiven
To the bright Homestead built in heaven
And fill all years and every clime
With the good cheer of Christmas time"

A Reminder: What Christmas is All About

2008-12-23T10:30:00.000-05:00

25 Years...Amazing

2008-12-18T11:08:00.000-05:00

Happy Anniversary

(With love...to my love, my best friend)

Entangled

Our hearts grew

Softer

With tenderness

As we learned to read

Each other’s emotions

Interwoven

Our days grew

fuller

With wonder

As we shared

Each other’s dreams

Encircling

Our love grows

Stronger

With contentment

As we continue to be

Each other’s joy

Be Faithful

2008-12-18T07:59:00.003-05:00

"The goal of faithfulness is not that we will do work for God, but that He will be free to do His work through us. God calls us to His service and places tremendous responsibilities on us. He expects no complaining on our part and offers no explanation on His part. God wants to use us as He used His own Son." ~Oswald Chambers, My Utmost for His Highest (emphasis mine)

Just a reminder-- one I needed (sigh!)--to get my focus back on who I serve, rather than what I am doing to serve. Click the link to go to read the rest of a great entry in the daily devotional for today.

Latte or Cappuccino?

2008-12-15T07:59:00.000-05:00

If you are one of those people who feels guilty about indulging your dollars for your favorite high priced coffee, check out this article at Lark News.
I hadn't visited this site for quite awhile, but it's great for tongue-in-cheek, slightly sarcastic humor poking (mostly) gently at Christian subculture.

On the other hand, I came across this book that might give you serious pause about your daily cup of joe.

The Reason Behind All This Time and Sand

2008-12-13T17:12:00.007-05:00

Things I've done for work in the last couple of weeks:

Fluffed and straightened limbs on a 14' Christmas tree
Assembled and fluffed a 5 foot, 6 foot, and 7 foot tree
Climbed on scaffolding and ladders to hang lights on 14' and 7' trees
Got a splinter while climbing on scaffolding
Shopped at 6 different Walmart stores and at least 4 Target stores
Purchased black ski masks, industrial strength velcro, red umbrellas, gloves, 24 LED flashlights, 2 types of magnets, superballs, dog balls, tennis balls, mesh ball bags, 20+ yoga/pilates balls, 64 large (8" diameter) Christmas ornaments, 64 kickballs, Christmas tree lights, ribbon
Deflated 15 inflated yoga balls by sitting on them and smashing the air out
Super glued magnets onto large Christmas tree ornaments (didn't work--polarization is an unforgiving natural force)
Cut and bent heavy gauge wire into Christmas ornament hooks. 64 of them.
Painted a big wooden box bright Christmas green.

I need a manicure. My hands look like I've been playing with a grouchy cat. It's been a busy week, with tasks at work becoming more physical and more "under the gun" as the week wore on. I have to admit that it was hard to keep a good attitude at times. I wanted to be doing more creating and less intern-type tasks. I understand it's just the nature of being new kid on the block at the busiest time in the church calender year, but I had to keep fighting down "pitiful me" feelings of "isn't there someone else to do this?" and "this is not what I expected!"

The holidays prime you for reminiscing about "auld lang syne" even before the New Year arrives, and when you've had a year of change and new beginnings it's hard not to look back over your shoulder sometimes and say, "why can't it just be like it used to be?" It's hard not to miss the old times past where the kids happily spent time with us and even helped decorate the tree, I was enjoying most of my working relationships and felt a great level of competence and creative freedom in my work, and there was wonderful rapport with all our friends and family!

Ok, who am I kidding? While all of those were true maybe for brief moments, they weren't the norm. There are ebbs and flows in jobs and relationships. And some of those things are true even now--creative sharing, developing work relationships and friendships--and while the kids didn't help with the tree, they do seem to enjoy hanging out with us at least some of the time. So why the longing for the past?

There's a great song by one of my favorite artists, Sara Groves called "Painting Pictures of Egypt". The metaphor is from the story of the Israelites wandering in the desert in their long journey to the land God had promised them. They became so discouraged at one point they longed to go back to the place where they had been slaves. (Now, please! I'm not implying that where I came from was comparable to Egyptian slavery--just that it wasn't where God wanted me to stay!) Anyway, here's the chorus:

"I’ve been painting pictures of Egypt
Leaving out what it lacked
The future seems so hard
And I want to go back
But the places that used to fit me
Cannot hold the things I"ve learned
And those roads closed off to me
While my back was turned "

Change is hard. I don't want to go back. But I do miss it.

Advent: Something Momentous

2008-12-08T07:30:00.005-05:00

Advent: "The coming or arrival, especially of something extremely important or arrival that has been awaited (especially of something momentous)"

It seems like every year we are well into December before I break down (usually involving tears and frustration lashing out at loved ones) and go, hmmm...maybe I should consider doing something to help me focus spiritually on what the season means, rather than just my to-do list for the season. This year is no exception, but I did find a great online daily Advent devotional to help me this year. Called "Following the Star", it is a great way to get your focus back (thanks, Jenni!). It also seems to be free of "wise-men-still-seek-him, reason-for-the-season" cliches that tend to run amok in these things.

This week is our church's big Christmas "premiere"-a sort of dressiest dress rehearsal before the actual performances closer to Christmas day. Needless to say I'll be busy, but it's exciting to be part of something that thousands of people watch that has the potential to change how they look at Christmas and more importantly, how they view God. I've so far only seen bits and pieces of the whole program as I have been doing background support work to get things ready. I'm excited to see it as a whole! It feels momentous to me!

Strength for the Long Haul (Parenting)

2008-12-03T08:24:00.003-05:00

Check out this great article over at internetmonk on parenting. I may be past the point of "raising" my children, but I still found some encouragement and good thoughts here. Even if we're grown ups, it doesn't mean we don't need to encourage others who are trying to raise good grow ups.

So, I'll also offer this word of encouragement from Colossians 1 (from The Message):

"We pray that you'll have the strength to stick it out over the long haul—not the grim strength of gritting your teeth but the glory-strength God gives. It is strength that endures the unendurable and spills over into joy, thanking the Father who makes us strong enough to take part in everything bright and beautiful that he has for us."

Hang in there.

A Prayer for Thanksgiving

2008-11-27T08:54:00.001-05:00

O God, when I have food,
help me to remember the hungry;

When I have work,
help me to remember the jobless;
When I have a home,
help me to remember those who have no home at all;
When I am without pain,
help me to remember those who suffer,
And remembering,
help me to destroy my complacency;
bestir my compassion,
and be concerned enough to help;
By word and deed,
those who cry out for what we take for granted.
Amen.

- Samuel F. Pugh (ordained minister of the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) for over 70 years)

2008-11-26T13:24:00.000-05:00

"What we're really talking about is a wonderful day set aside on the fourth Thursday of November when no one diets. I mean, why else would they call it Thanksgiving?"

~Erma Bombeck

Don't Freak Out

2008-11-26T08:30:00.003-05:00

For those in ministry who are already in the throws of Christmas planning madness, I offer this quote. I've lost the author's name, but I find it comforting on those days when I'm ready to get off the rollercoaster ride and just sit on the bench. It reminds me that God has called me to this work and life and that I am called to be different.

"Accept that your life is abnormal. Nothing about life as a ministry leader--from it's emotional toll to relational demands and constant interruptions--is normal. Accepting that you are freak with a freakish life will help you not to freak out."

Have a freaky great Thanksgiving break!

Make New Friends...

2008-11-22T11:12:00.002-05:00

“Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another, 'What! You too? I thought I was the only one”
~ C. S. Lewis

Part of the fun in starting a new job is getting to meet new people and hopefully, make new friends. Part of the angst about starting a new job is that you have to start over meeting new people and trying to make friends! It feels a little like the first day being the new kid in a new school. You don't know the lay of the land yet--who is always pleasant, who is great one-on-one but not in a group (and visa versa), who will share their pencils freely, who doesn't like you to touch their stuff, who might just beat you up and take your milk money...you get the picture. All that takes time and interaction.

It can also be hard to let people know you. We tend to hold back a little-- fearful to show the real us until we feel safe that we will be accepted and liked for who we are. And if we've been burned in past friendships (at work or otherwise), the tendency to mask our authentic selves is even stronger. As I finish a second month at my new job, I feel like I'm finally letting down the mask a little bit and being myself. It feels good. Being myself is the thing I"m best at after all. So in the spirit of self-revelation, here's 5 things you might not know about me (I know, I know, it's a bit of a cliched blog thing--but I'm ok with being a bit cliched sometimes). Maybe one of them will make you say "What? You too?":

1. I hate coconut. It's one of the very few foods I dislike. Somewhere in my childhood there is the distinct memory of getting sick after eating coconut cake that has never left me. The fact that I really have only one food nemesis is telling in itself.

2. I did not have a full-time job until I was almost 40 years old. Now, I do consider being a stay-at-home mom working part-time the equivalent of a 40 hour a week job, and I did that for many years. But if we're talking really being gone 9-5 and having a boss and steady income full-time, I was a very late starter. As a side note, I also didn't start drinking coffee until I started working full time. I also didn't drink alcohol until about that time. Not sure about a direct correlation, but you be the judge.

3. I am not afraid of much of anything. No fear of heights, small spaces, snakes, crawly things, storms, etc. I don't like looking in mirrors at night--a leftover from some bad horror movie I saw when I was an adolescent--but I can do it.

4. I am really good at remembering the words to songs. My kids used to play a game where they would throw out a word and try to see if I could remember a song containing that word (try me, I dare you). I'm not sure if this comes from years of music lessons and singing in choirs or from too much easy listening radio and "Name That Tune" episodes as a child.

5. I have had some type of illness or physical malady most of my life. When I was young, I had severe allergies that led to sinus surgeries as a young adult. When I was newly married I had low back issues that weren't resolved until a recent surgery corrected the problem. When I trained and ran a half-marathon, I ended up with a tibial stress fracture. I've had carpal tunnel syndrome and surgeries to repair it. I've had endometriosis (sorry guys, I a 'female problem') that caused so much pain I had to have a hysterectomy in my early 30's. Through all this I've remained active--skiing, running, mountain biking, and hiking. I have a friend who used to say I was the "sickest healthy person" she'd ever met. As a mostly confident, self-assured personality, it's been annoying and frustrating and has kept me dependent on God. Maybe that's the point of it all. I've given up asking God why and instead just say to Him, 'stick with me here, ok?"

Bonus: Well, I just couldn't leave it at the last one--it was just toooo serious and pathetic!
I have seen almost every sci-fi movie made since the 80's. (The only exception would be those that lean heavily toward horror/slasher films, but I've even seen a few of those--see #3.)

So there you have it. A little mini-reveal of the real me--a little brave, a little broken, little nerdy. Now, please don't take my milk money. I just want to be your friend.

Let's Face It

2008-11-21T20:36:00.000-05:00

A quote to consider as you smile or frown today...

"Nature gives you the face you have at 20. Life shapes the face you have at 30. But at 50 you get the face you deserve."
~ Coco Chanel

Learning is an Adventure

2008-11-17T19:13:00.000-05:00

"We learn something every day, and lots of times it's that what we learned the day before was wrong." ~Bill Vaughn, American columnist and author

The honeymoon is over as they say. New jobs, like new relationships, can be heady, exciting adventures at the start, especially for extroverted, sanguine personalities like mine. We love learning new things and getting to meet new people. I also enjoy learning new processes and systems in an organization, and like taking chaotic, messy processes and and creating ways for them to be clear and usable. I haven't always been able to articulate or even recognize that I enjoy these things. Getting to know yourself is one of the benefits of having a few extra years as a grown up.

Jumping into the inner workings of a large church has been full of these types of adventures. I also enjoy the unpredictable and never-know-what-you'll-be asked-to-do next atmosphere of the artistic area I work in. I might be off to purchase a bunch of items one day (like a bunch of yoga balls), participating in a creative planning meeting the next, and doing research online another day. I love the craziness of it.

But, (did you sense that coming?) it's not easy. It is hard to be thrown into a fast pace Christmas-planning-crazy environment where you are trying to keep up the pace, when you don't quite have your feet under you. Feeling like you are trying to learn the phone and computer systems, decipher workplace slang (what's a M.O.S.? a Crunch?), and simply learn people's names is a challenge. And there is always the need to just "learn" people. Body language and tone can tell you far more than words, but it takes time to be able to pick up on the individual dialects. Like taking residence in a foreign culture, there comes a point where the awe of observing and absorbing new sights and sounds starts to wear on you and you miss the familiar and routine of your homeland.

Last week I had a bad day. I misread some of the lingo and I let myself get overwhelmed by the language barrier. I got stressed out trying to keep up and look like I was a native when still need the map now and then! It's good to be reminded that I am not always going to get it the first time, and that the natives are pretty patient here. I'm learning something new every day and trying to embrace it as an adventure. Which is a good way to live life, not just work, I'm thinking.

It Costs Too Much!

2008-11-11T20:32:00.003-05:00

"I think age is a very high price to pay for maturity."
~Tom Stoppard, British screenwriter and playwright

Viva la Vida...Together

2008-11-09T20:23:00.000-05:00

"With a big chunk of the world still ahead on the "Viva la Vida..." tour, that means Martin and the rest of Coldplay have been and will continue to spend a lot of time together. 'We've just been getting closer and closer,' Martin says. 'I think because we're in this thing together, we're becoming more and more connected... First of all, we're each other's family, really, cause we know each other really well. And second, we go through everything together. To me it's the most safe environment I can think of, within the band."
~Chris Martin of Coldplay, quoted in the Oakland Press

We joined a new 'small group' last week. Our new church is large--at the main campus they have 4 services each weekend with attendance well into the thousands. So if you want to get to know people and develop deeper relationships, you need to join a small group. These groups meet at least once or twice a month. As the KCC website states: "Each group is unique and free to create its own format - the goal is that all small groups would experience life-changing community with a vision and purpose greater than themselves."

The group we chose is doing a study the church suggested-working through a video of the Life of John and discussing what we've seen over a shared meal. It is a mixed group-married, single, and married but attending alone. We felt welcomed and comfortable with the study and the group, but it will take time to feel the connectedness that we desire. Yes, we are Christian "brothers and sisters", which gives us a tremendous head start, but it's still hard to start over. We've been a part of several groups over the years with our former church, and in the most recent groups, we already knew everyone fairly well.

Our new group is planning to do a service project soon, which I'm looking forward to--there's nothing like working toward a "purpose greater than ourselves" to draw us closer to each other. It will take time to get to the point where we feel like friends, and-hopefully-eventually like family. It's worth it though, because we all need a "band" of people that helping us to"viva la vida" or in English..."live the life."

Take Comfort

2008-11-07T18:57:00.003-05:00

"I take comfort that aging happens to everybody. It's part of life. Yes, it bothers me when I have lines of puffiness or droops. But it connects me with the human race. Just like weather is the great equalizer, so is aging."
~Diane Lane, movie star quoted in O magazine

Just taking comfort that even the rich and famous have to put up with puffiness and droops.

Being a grown up means....

2008-11-03T20:05:00.001-05:00

Being a grown up means....you willingly choose to not be the center of attention, even if that's where you prefer to be.

Real Grown Ups..My Little Sister

2008-10-29T21:44:00.009-04:00

I took this picture of my sister and my niece getting ready to catch the bus for the first day of school back in late August (they start earlier there than MI). It was the start of the school year for my sister too, as she works as a elementary school counselor in the area. (You may not be able to see it, but the backpack is pink camo print--fitting for a princess-pretending, soccer powerhouse, plays-in-the-dirt-but-likes-Hannah Montana-kindergartener!)

My only sibling, my sister is 3 years younger than me. And--big dramatic pause here--she turns the big 4-0 in a couple of weeks. "One day it happens--you think to yourself, 'you know, that music is kind of loud,' and you reach over... and turn it down...and you are 40." At least that's what the card I'm sending her says. And no, I'm not worried about her reading it here first, because she doesn't read my blog. She only recently got a computer in the house connected to the Internet. She would admit to a little fear of it, but mostly it's just that she just thinks the kids (and she and hubby for that matter) have better things to do than surf the net--like "get outside and blow the stink off you", for goodness sake! (something my mom used to say regularly). And get outside she does. When I recently made the mistake of commenting that I had to get up at the ungodly time of 5:45 am to be able to carpool to work with my hubby, she said in her understated way "yeah, I was up at 5, out the door to run at 5:15 this morning." She admitted that due to the dark and cold and wind she did say to herself 'this is crazy'. But then she ran anyway--probably her normal 5-7 miles. She runs year round, switching to a treadmill only when it gets way too cold to be outside. She has run at least 3 marathons and I don't know how many half marathons over the last few years. She complained to my mom after a recent half-marathon that she seems to be getting slower. Then proceeded to share that she came in second in her age group and in the top 100 over all. She's fast--she qualified for Boston, but just couldn't get the logistics to work to go. And at only 5 feet tall, we figure she has to take a lot more steps per race than some of the runners! She's gutsy and tough though. In high school she ran hurdles--hurdles! And she managed to finish--with a decent time--the grueling 2007 Chicago marathon before it was called off due to heat. The year before that, she ran in the very brisk (ok, being southern Indiana girl she called it "brutal") Detroit Free Press Marathon.

She's a great mother. One of the things her little country church does twice a month is take their youth kids to a local food pantry to help sort items. She takes my nephew, who couldn't believe there were people around that couldn't just go buy groceries. My niece, who is actually too young to be in the group, went each week to help pack boxes and carry as well. She's teaching them already the satisfaction and thankfulness that comes from helping those who don't have the blessings you have.

Her job as a school counselor is a tough one. When kids act up in school or just seem to be having a rough day, they go see her. She gives them playdough to distract them and occupy their hands so they can talk about their feelings. Some come from slightly broken homes where Dad and Mom spent the night before yelling at each other. Some come from really broken homes where Dad spent the evening hitting mom or abusing them. How much must it break your heart to talk with a child who is experiencing the devastation of incest? You would think it wouldn't be too bad in a small town in heartland America, but the problems are there and she is their advocate, helping them cope or getting them the help they need even at their very young ages.

Real grown ups--like my sister--do the hard thing, even when it requires sacrifices and personal discomfort. They role out of bed and hit the pavement out of discipline and love for what they do, knowing it makes a difference in their life. She gets medals all the time for running races--for being self-disciplined enough to train and compete. But it's what she does to make a difference in others lives, and how she teaches her kids that it's not really all about us and our little world of comfort and material stuff, that is truly medal worthy. And it makes me want to be like her when I grow up.

Trying, Failing, but still Traveling...

2008-10-29T21:26:00.005-04:00

"Attack me, I do this myself, but attack me rather than the path I follow and which I point out to anyone who asks me where I think it lies. If I know the way home and am walking along it drunkenly, is it any less the right way because I am staggering from side to side!"
~Leo Tolstoy, 19th century Russian novelist, quoted in UnChristian: What a New Generation Really Thinks About Christianity...And Why It Matters, by David Kinnaman and Gabe Lyons. You should read this book.

Too Much?

2008-10-26T16:15:00.026-04:00

"Perhaps too much of everything is as bad as too little." Edna Ferber, American novelist and playwright (1885 - 1968)

So I've decided to work my way through a list of writing exercises that I read in Oprah magazine over the summer. "O" is, regardless of what you think of her show and persona, a magazine full of great articles and interesting reading. The suggestions appeared in the sidebar of an article called "How to Write Your Own Memoir," and while that is something I'm not planning to tackle any time soon, I thought the there were some great 'writing starters' that I could use here.
"Write two pages of what you have too much of." Well, one thing I know about being grown ups--once you've reached your 40's in America, most of us have too much of something in our lives. Even though my hubby and I are not 'pack rat' people*, (well, ok I am a little. He will throw out a magazine before I ever open it if I let it sit out in the open too long!) I realized there are things I have that most people would probably consider just too much.

Hmmm...2 pages sounded daunting and not really in keeping with blogging style, so I decided to take pictures to illustrate.

We own quite a few DVD's. Hubby buys most of them and often gets them for gifts. There are 3 main criteria:
1. They have to be big blockbuster type movies and/or
2. They have to be sci fi or fantasy type, or a major pixar-type animated movie
3. They have to be ones we can imagine watching more than one more time

There are a lot like this:

There are not nearly enough like this. Anybody want the Pilates for Dummies?

We also have a lot of 80's and 90's music CD's. Ugh. Bruce Hornsby, anyone?

Doesn't everyone have a drawer like this now? Too many old power cords and adapters and where is that one I need for the charger....??

Now it gets a little more personal.
I probably have too many jackets.
These are not all mine, but they are also not all of mine.
We do have a VERY small coat closet.
Together we have enough that they spill over into other spots. My reasoning for having so many? We live in Michigan! You can always use a jacket!

Sandals! What can I say? I have shoes issues--as in difficulty finding a good fit--and sandals are just more accommodating. According to FashionBlast.net, a recent study revealed that women over the age of 40 own an average of 19 pairs of shoes. I guess I'm above average there, although it also says that women over 40 own an average of 11 handbags--a figure I come no where near! Add to that the fact that I do a lot of clearance, sale, and Salvation Army shopping and I don't feel too bad about this "too much". It does sort of run counter to the whole "we live in Michigan" jacket justification though.

I have too many earrings. I've even added a third hole just to give me somewhere else to stick them. 99% of them are costume jewelry and not worth much at all. They do have sentimental value though, because I often buy them on vacations and they remind me of the trip. I love funky, handcrafted, and unusual styles. I don't own many necklaces or rings by comparison.

The world's most expensive earrings ever made cost 8.5 million dollars.

But enough about my self-indulgence! I'm probably worse than some women, better than others in this department.

I have TOO MUCH RED TILE!!

This is my bathroom. It came with the lake house, which had way too many other things that needed repair. There was no time to spend on tile that was in great shape, but it's just hideous. I sent in pictures to one of those ugliest bathroom in America contests once, but got no response.

There is soooo much of it! We have to do something about it soon. It's beginning to wear on me. It hurts my eyes. It's orange in some areas. And the question that really haunts me is, "who does this to starts with?"

And that's how we are--happy with too much of some things, frustrated with too much of other things. Lack of contentment coloring it all. In this case in an all too bright shade of red.

What do you have too much of? Come on....'fess up!

*There's a pretty good book out on this subject if this is really something you struggle with called "It's All Too Much" by Peter Walsh.

Being a Grown Up means...

2008-10-23T13:04:00.000-04:00

....means realizing you can't control other people. Even your kids. Even if they plan to get a tattoo. Or dreadlocks.

Ultimate Frisbee Players Unite!

2008-10-22T20:29:00.001-04:00

Frisbeetarianism is the belief that when you die, your soul goes up on the roof and gets stuck.
~George Carlin

Funny is Hereditary...you get it from your kids

2008-10-21T20:31:00.005-04:00

"Trying to be a first-rate reporter on the average American newspaper is like trying to play Bach's 'St. Matthew's Passion' on a ukulele." (source unknown)

Sooo....sorry for the heaviness of the posts recently. I decided I need to lighten things up here. So I'm turning to my daughter to help out. She works at an area newspaper, and while she wrote tons of stories as a lowly barely-paid intern, now that she graduated and has a full time copywriter position she doesn't get to write stories very often. Instead she sends me funny emails with almost always intriguing subject lines. Unfortunately, I'd already deleted many of them, but I have a few to share, along with some of the actual content. Shhh…don't tell her...

To: mom
Subject: The weird, wild world of Sanilac County (or just another day at the copy desk...)

This hilarious, disgusting, classically podunk image is going to appear in the Sunday edition of The Jeffersonian, with this caption:
Fungus among us!
Autumn is the time for mushrooms and Bill Eckel found a doozy on his lawn at 6121 Lakeshore Rd., Lexington. It is a specimen of calvatea gigantea or – giant puffball. It had a circumference of 34 inches and weighed four pounds. Many puffballs are edible, but be careful, because some are toxic.
Thought ya'll might appreciate it.

Some are just blatant ploys for parental favors:

To: mom
Subject: Love the Madness
Just FYI, you can get a women's Moosejaw hoodie for half off (that's $25 instead of $50) if you enter coupon code 689 today. In case you were wondering what to get me for Christmas or Sweetest Day or Tuesday or something...

Cool connection to a website I recommended...

To: Mom
Subject: Exploding dog used my title!
I was referring to the Ben Folds concert, but his take on it is pretty funny...
http://www.explodingdog.com/title/ijustcantwait.html

My apologies for the swear word, but you gotta admit it's funny...

To: Mom
Subject: What we all with we could say when someone asked us to explain ourselves...

I just asked the founder of Moosejaw if he could explain a statement in the press release I received, which said something about Moosejaw being "well positioned" to take advantage of the growing popularity of outdoor activities like climbing, hiking, etc. His answer? "Shit, I don't know!" Refreshing honesty, although at 3:30 in the afternoon, with post-lunch drowsiness in full effect, I wasn't exactly sure how to respond.
Happy Tuesday :)

Poem of Grief

2008-10-20T13:33:00.002-04:00

Grief
doesn’t fit neatly
in the little day box
on my calendar
marked out to say
that’s completed
now move on
to the next square

Mourning
doesn’t allow me
to schedule a time
begin feeling the pain
when the chime reminds me
to sorrow and sigh now
or miss the chance

Unexpectedly, sorrow flows
pools in my gut
while a song I try to sing
tunes to the ache
resonates with my hurt
vibrations echoed in tears
even while the waves fade

Remembrance
doesn’t tolerate
the wondrous sight
of a glorious autumn
blood red glowing orange tree
with it’s momentary beauty
for I see only the
crumpled piles underneath
decaying colors evaporating
and long for spring

sm

Words about Arts in the Church

2008-10-17T22:59:00.001-04:00

Thoughts on Racism: My Experience

2008-10-05T19:42:00.014-04:00

Over the weekend there was an article in the Oakland Press highlighting evidence of racism in metro Detroit. Focusing on the roads that racially separate Detroit from Gross Pointe (Alter Road) and the mostly black Detroit and it's mostly white suburbs (8 Mile Road), "they found people of both races living just blocks apart who nonetheless spoke of each other like strangers. There was suspicion, contempt-and yet, for many, a desperate hope that Obama's candidacy might be the final step in America's long path to racial equality."

Racial equality and understanding are great things to hope for--regardless of your political leanings. Reading the article, I remembered the one black man I knew growing up. His name was Odie Henry. He and his wife Mary, who was white, attended our little Cumberland Presbyterian church. He was, at least to my young eyes, treated without prejudice by the small congregation. To better understand just how unusual this was, you have to understand the area I grew up in.

To say I grew up in a town that was not diverse would be a great understatement. In a town of 1,500, according to the census number on the sign, there was not one person living there that was not white. (Odie lived several miles away-out in the country.) There was one Korean boy who attended my high school, but he also lived in another town. There was no one from India (although a few years after I moved away there a Pakistani doctorwho began a practice). No Chinese or Chaldean shop owners. No Arabic or Italian faces in the schools. A quick Google search shows that even today only .2% of the population is foreign born, which equals 2 people out of the current population of about 1,000. Racially, from my recent visits, it is still an all white town.

A retiree with some gray already speckling his dark closely clipped hair, Odie Henry built model trains as a hobby. He had helped work on the model railroad display in the Chicago Museum of Science and Industry. His basement held not only trains and working displays, but the equipment needed to make the wheels and other parts himself. As an inquisitive young girl I found it somewhat interesting, and I think if I had expressed a desire to learn he would have been willing to teach me some of his skills. As far as I can remember, he had only grown step children, and he was not able to pass on his legacy before he died. He was a kind and gentle soul who spoke softly and was respected in our church, even while there were surely great prejudices held privately and quietly by some of the congregants there. Any prejudices of my parents or grandparents were largely unexpressed in my presence (at least not until I was old enough to judge it as ignorance) and I grew up with mostly no negative impressions of those of other races.

The Oakland Press article says that when questioned, Detroit area blacks and whites each put blame for the prejudices that still exist on the "they" and "them", pointing to others in their neighborhoods as barriers to understanding and equality, even as they make racial comments. Sadly, many will grow up never really knowing or being friends with someone of another race. "Here, it's unfamiliarity that can breed contempt--or at least misunderstanding," says the article. Not knowing someone as a person--and accepting the caricatures formed by assumption and prejudices passed down from others--the dividing line will continue to exist.

As I entered adulthood, my only lasting impression of blacks was in the form of a person I knew--Odie Henry--who was a kind, dignified Christian man who built model trains. "Black" had a name and a face for me to recall and it colored all my future encounters with those of other races with grace. If the one black man I had known growing up had been violent or even just abrasive, I may have developed a different lens through which I would have viewed other races. I'd like to think I would not have settled for an image based on one person, but I'm sure I would have been more suspicious and less open to friendships with blacks.

The town I live in now is 90% white, but I know we have neighbors across the street who are black. No polititian alone can bring the change that will be the final step on that long path to racial equality. I think the only way we can erase the imaginary dividing line that most definitely exists between blacks and whites is by reaching out with openness to those who are still strangers and getting to know them--one person, one friendship at a time.

Real Grown Ups Revisited

2008-09-30T08:11:00.003-04:00

In honor of my friends that just moved to Louisville, CO (near Boulder), an early post about a woman I met on an airplane that lives an unusual lifestyle in that area.

Real Grown Ups: Dorothy

Being a Grown Up means...

2008-09-30T08:09:00.000-04:00

Being a grown up means...you see the value in taking time to teach someone younger than you how to do the things you do easily. And that you are patient and encouraging while doing it.

World's Largest Pillow Fight: Grand Rapids

2008-09-28T19:44:00.003-04:00

Well, technically I don't know if it's the "world's largest", but it certainly is the biggest I've ever heard about! My son, who attends Kendall College of Art & Design in Grand Rapids, MI shot these photos of the event. Get several hundred people with pillows together, divide them into teams with different colored t-shirts and watch the feathers fly. Check out his awesome slide show here. For news coverage of the event, click here.

Love is Hard Work

2008-09-27T12:38:00.007-04:00

"Love is a form of hard work the young can not foresee."
Richard M. Cohen, from an article in O Magazine

I spoke briefly with my dad on the phone last week. Briefly, because he won't talk long, and is usually quick to hand off the phone to mom. If I happen to catch him alone, he still won't talk for long. His southern gentleman humbleness kicks in and he insists you must have something better to do than to talk to him. So I have to be quick to ask questions if I want to get any information on how he's actually doing. And though he won't say it, I know he is tired. It's been a rough few months for Dad. He takes care of my granddad, age 99, and my grandmother, age 90. Taking care of them includes driving to their house almost every morning to take my grandfather to the "Cardinal Drive-In" for coffee and breakfast. This used to be a time for them to visit and relax, but increasingly my granddad is forgetful enough that Dad fears his repetitious comments will annoy the regulars. He often wakes from his afternoon nap not knowing where he is, which means he can no longer be left at home alone if grandmother has a doctor's appointment.

Driving them to their many doctor's appointments is another way dad takes care of them, driving to a city about 45 miles away. Recently on one of those visits, after the doctor's had given my grandmother a clean bill of health (at least for her age), Dad left her on a bench inside while he went to pull the car up to the door. In the span of those few minutes, Grandmother stood up, passed out, and hit her head on the bench. She has struggled with blurred and double vision since, and the doctors are not giving them much hope that her eyesight will improve. In that instant, she lost the ability she still possessed to drive short distances to go to the store or post office, and along with it another layer of freedom was lost and another layer of responsibility added to my dad's. Adding to the load, my mother had knee replacement surgery in August. While the knee is healing well, she had difficulties with some side effects from medications given to her in the hospital. Dad was also her primary caregiver, and while not an invalid by any means, she needed help and transport to her appointments and therapy (she is back to driving herself now). And during this time, she has been unable to help with the grandparents. Fortunately, my dad's brother has been traveling back from out-of-state to help.

We've all suggested they get some help. Help from friends at the least-and they have on rare occasions--and in home professional help as well. My Dad has not pursued it yet. He says he feels that this is something he needs to do--and then quickly will add "wants" to do as long as he is able. They are his parents and that same southern humility doesn't allow for him to pass off responsibility to someone else lightly. He looks tired. He struggles to keep up with his property and theirs. He longs for time alone to do what he loves best--spend time outdoors in the hills and woods of the area. And yet even exploring the option of putting his parents in a nursing home is not something he is ready to do. Not while he is still able to do these things for them.

I tease Dad that when he gets old and senile I will bring him north to my state and "put him in a home" and just tell him he is actually in Florida or someplace warm. In reality, I can't even yet imagine that time. I pray that with the longevity that runs in our family I won't have to deal with it for quite a while. If I really stop to ponder the future, I don't know if I will be able to do for my parents what he is doing for his. Logistics aside, do I have the fortitude to bear that burden? I'm beginning to think that it is a calling in many ways, and not something everyone can do. The same author I quoted above says, "We live in the real world and ask only what reasonably can be delivered. Love is picking up the other when the times come. And come they do." I pray that when that time comes, I will be able to do the hard work required and to be prepared to deliver the love that is needed.

Being a Grown Up Means...

2008-09-24T15:17:00.000-04:00

"Being a grown-up woman doesn't mean you can't look beautiful, individual and different." Twiggy, age 59, the original 'supermodel' in her book, A Guide to Looking and Feeling Fabulous Over Forty

A Defining Hair Moment

2008-09-22T09:15:00.003-04:00

"It's funny how so many decisions that start with "What the hell?" turn out to be the right ones." ~saying on a card at the Union General, Clarkston, MI

"I had long hair, waist long, until I was 13 years old," said the stylist at my salon when I remarked on her very chic, very short auburn brown hair. She looks much younger than her 50 something years, wears great funky clothes, and has a tiny diamond piercing the side of her nose. I was surprised to hear she has several grandchildren. As she snipped my hair, she went on with her story.

"I was the oldest of seven children, and I have 4 sisters. We all wore our hair like the good little Catholic school girls we were--long, straight, with bangs cut straight across our foreheads. When I was 13, I got tired of looking just like my 7 year old sister, so one day I sneaked out and got my hair cut very short." Her parents couldn't believe she would do something so radical. "Back then, you could sell your hair for use in making wigs." (She had brought the length of hair home with her.)

"My dad said 'You will not prosper from this act of defiance' and he took it outside and burned it. I didn't think of it as being defiant. I just wanted to be myself--an individual. I was also grounded for a month."

"A month doesn't seem like that long," I said.

She agreed, and thinking back on what must have been a defining moment said, "It was totally worth it."

Sunday Morning..Last Goodbyes

2008-09-21T18:38:00.000-04:00

The best things said come last. People will talk for hours saying nothing much and then linger at the door with words that come with a rush from the heart. ~Alan Alda

Being a Grown Up means...

2008-09-20T08:00:00.000-04:00

'When we were children, we used to think that when we were grown-up we would no longer be vulnerable. But to grow up is to accept vulnerability... To be alive is to be vulnerable." ~Madeleine L'Engle

Gifts I Received

2008-09-18T21:51:00.002-04:00

Gifts I received on my last day of work:

-A mocha frappuccino
-A stuffed fuzzy yellow duck (quacked me up!)
-A pelican made out of shells
-A caramel frappuccino
-Flowers & cards
-Lunch with co-workers/friends that I'll miss a lot!
-A beautiful necklace and earrings
-A "piratey" email from my daughter for National Talk Like a Pirate Day ("yarr matey! How be those scalywags you call church folk? Tell em if they be distubin' you, Capn Shortstack is gonna make them walk the plank. Arrrr!)
-Lots of tech support (thanks, George!)

-Lots of smiles, hugs, and laughs! Thanks to all who sent me out with a smile and a prayer of thanksgiving!

Endings

2008-09-18T21:46:00.000-04:00

"I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next." ~Gilda Radner

Tomorrow is my last day at my current job. Working in ministry is different than other jobs. The only way I could find to change jobs and still stay "in my field" is to get a job at a different church and leave mine. Which means-in a lot of ways-leaving many people that I love. I'm not moving, but I'm enough of a realist to know that there are people who I will loose touch with. The leaving is difficult and bittersweet and is for a lot of people a "poem that doesn't rhyme". Through this process I've been reminded over and over that God is the only one that knows our thoughts and motives. I've learned that all you can do is try, with God's help, to live your life with integrity, grace, and love with God's help. Your friends who know and love you will love you whether or not they understand the whole story.

I start my new job next Tuesday. Last month when I was on a trip with my husband I bought a magnet to put in my office. It says, "Faith is jumping and believing that you will either land on solid ground or that you'll be given wings to fly." I don't know exactly what is going to happen next, but I'm going to do my best to live my story trusting the One who does.

Being a Grown Up Means....

2008-09-17T08:13:00.000-04:00

Being a grown up means....sometimes you have to do the hard thing in order to be able to do the best thing, even when others might not understand it.

Good Article about Leaving a church

2008-09-16T09:00:00.000-04:00

I don't often post links to other people's work, but I found a great article that might be helpful to those who are struggling with the same sort of things I've been sharing here lately about leaving my church and my ministry job for another. It's a great report on the book "Life After Church: God's Call to Disillusioned Christians" by Brian Sanders. While I wouldn't consider myself "disillusioned," the article offers some very basic and practical advice for anyone examining their part in the community of their church--whether 'staying' or 'going'. It's on the Crosswalk website here.

Being a Grown Up Means....

2008-09-16T08:07:00.002-04:00

Being a grown up means...you don't have to eat coconut if you don't like it. Or asparagus. Or green beans.

(Got any thoughts about being a "grown up"? Let's hear them!)

Thankful for True Friends

2008-09-14T14:33:00.002-04:00

"True friendship is a sacred, important thing, and it happens when we drop down into that deeper level of who we are, when we cross over into the broken, fragile parts of ourselves. We have to give something up in order to get friendships like that. We have to give up our need to be perceived as perfect. We have to give up our ability to control what people think of us. We have to overcome the fear that when they see the depths of who we are, they'll leave. But what we give up is nothing in comparison to what this kind of friendship gives to us. Friendship is about risk. Love is about risk. If we can control it and manage it and manufacture it, then it's something else, but it's really love, really friendship, it's a little scary around the edges."

Cold Tangerines: Celebrating the Extraordinary Nature of Everyday Life

By Shauna Niequist

A Life of Faith

2008-09-11T21:00:00.002-04:00

"Living a life of faith means never knowing where you are being led,” writes Oswald Chambers. “But it does mean loving and knowing the One who is leading. It is literally a life of faith, not of understanding and reason – a life of knowing him who calls us to go.”

I am going. I am starting a new job at a new church. I am (well technically, "we are") leaving our church and joining this new church. It hasn't been an easy decision. While most friends understand it and know and love us enough to have an idea of our motivations, people still ask, "Why?" It's not an easy story to tell, because there are lots of little stories that led us down this path.

The short version is "Our pastor and friend left. When we knew he was leaving, we stopped to evaluate my job and our service and God began to call us elsewhere."

Maybe a metaphor would help: "When we tried to unpack the overstuffed emotional baggage that comes from being deeply involved in a church that is going through years of 'transition' and struggles, we found that we just needed a whole new suitcase. The old stuff in there doesn't even fit us anymore."

My husband in exasperation has said, "Sometimes you just need to change churches after 16 years! There doesn't have to be a big overly-spiritualized reason!"

The faith side of it is I cracked the door open in a moment of worry and grief about the coming changes and tossed out a resume. And I feel like God flung the door wide open and said "come on, we're going somewhere and it's going to be big and scary and exciting and a lot of people won't understand, but I'm in it and that's what matters."

And after much wrestling, procrastinating, whining, and praying, there was a peace that settled in. I hadn't really even said "yes, I'll go with you on this" in my head, but my heart was already there. There was peace.

At one point in the wrestling process, I sat on the front porch step while my husband worked in the yard on a gorgeous late August day and I felt the Holy Spirit. Now if you know me at all, you know I am generally more a thinker than an emotional/feeler kind of person in this area, but I'm telling you I felt Him. A breeze and the sun and then the quiet whisper saying to my soul "It's going to be alright. Trust me." I hadn't decided yet, but God was with me in the tension, reminding me that whether or not I understood or knew where I was going, He was with me. He would be the one calling me.

Most of the people at our church are staying. The most amazing and encouraging thing is that I've literally heard the exact same words coming from many people: "God isn't telling me to go, so we are staying." Listening to what God is saying, whether it is "stay" or "go"--following Him when you don't know where you're being led--that is what it means to live a life of faith. May we be gracious and encourage each other to keep our eyes on the "One who is leading".

Quote from the original, theological OC

2008-09-05T22:15:00.000-04:00

"A gilt-edged saint is no good, he is abnormal, unfit for daily life, and altogether unlike God. We are here as men and women, not as half-fledged angels, to do the work of the world, and to do it with an infinitely greater power to stand the turmoil because we have been born from above."

Oswald Chamber, My Utmost for His Highest

Urbanesque Poem

2008-09-04T08:59:00.000-04:00

Hey you,
young blonde
punk athlete
in the Mercury Sable
seat low and back

playing rap music
so smutty your mother
would cry and your sister
would whomp you
for even owning it

Don't you know that
what goes
in your head
can end up in your
heart?

Generational Unity: Is it possible?

2008-09-02T21:57:00.002-04:00

Things are more like they are now than they have ever been.
Gerald R. Ford US Republican politician (1913 - 2006)

Every generation has grown up with certain church standards, habits, and accepted norms. For example (and this is one of the more low key ones, I think), one generation of women sees dresses as the standard for church attire; the next is comfortable with dress pants, and the next with jeans and t-shirts. Each preference displays a different mindset about something that is not scripturally mandated, but has spiritual thought behind it. For the older generation, the thinking was that you dressed to present your best self to God as a sign of respect. The next generation felt somewhat the same, but the definition of ‘best’ was already changing with the culture. The current young generation feels that it is inauthentic to dress up for worship—they feel it is like putting on a mask. None of these motivations are unbiblical. They are just different. They are a reflection of the culture and thinking of that generation.

In the church circles I work and live in, there is a generation gap that lately seems unbridgeable. While opinions on “appropriate” dress, music, and decorum in worship are the most obvious differences, there are growing differences in focus and changing deeply held attitudes about living out our faith. Some challenges to the status quo include: Is it more important to support pro-life candidates or to support those who are working for social justice (issues of poverty, race, and affordable healthcare)? Is it more important to have correct doctrinal beliefs (beyond the core), or to be living out the beliefs we have by serving others? Is it more valuable to give to missionaries around the world, or to give to local efforts to help the poor and addicted? Should our focus be on those who already believe and have access to tools to grow in their faith, or on those who have not yet begun to explore life with and in Christ. (again, these are issues of focus and not necessarily either/or questions).

These issues are fundamentally more important than ‘dressy’ vs. ‘casual’ and ‘hymnal’ vs. ‘praise chorus,’ but get much less discussion time among the churchgoers I know. As a matter of fact, part of the division seems to be that the older generation (forgive me, those of you who are the blatant exceptions to the rule!) doesn’t even seem to know there are brewing changes in thinking (even among scholars and theologians) on these issues, let alone that the younger generation is concerned with them. The generation I hear discussing the more meaningful issues I’ve thrown out here is the 20 somethings –who seem to have stepped right over the worship service issues, seeing them as a battle their parents engage in that doesn’t really concern them (in my experience, most just don’t seem to see what all the fuss is about—which gives me some hope for our future!) If you haven’t seen this, sit down with your church’s college and career group, or visit relevant.com, a website/magazine that both my young adult children and their friends read cover to cover.

The problem with accepted norms and standards comes when we begin to defend them as though they are Truth. When we are challenged to examine them, we should seriously consider our own reasons for defending them. The issue, that to me leads to offense, comes when we don’t bother asking the generations coming behind us OR the generations who have come before us why they do what they do, and instead condemn and pass judgment on their choices. Do we trust that God is leading the younger generations in what they choose to focus on? Or do we berate them for not focusing on our battles of preference? Do we look to the older generation for examples of wisdom and patience, asking them to stand beside us as we do battle? If we move forward in our churches without generational unity, don’t we all lose?

There is a Time for Everything

2008-08-30T21:27:00.006-04:00

"It’s time for letting go | All of our if only’s
‘Cause we don’t have a time machine
And even if we did | Would we really want to use it?
Would we really want to go change everything?"

When our daughter was little, kindergarten age, we decided to rearrange her room one day while she was gone somewhere. Though we were pleased with the outcome, when she came home she took one look and tearfully wailed, "but that's not the way it's supposed to go!" She, like most of us, didn't like changes being made to her stable pink bedroom world. I guess the past month or so, I've been saying something pretty similar to my heavenly Father. Something that sounds a lot like "but that's not the way it's supposed to go". Change is tough at any age.

"‘Cause we are who and where and what we are for now,
And this is the only moment we can do anything about"

Last Sunday our senior pastor, who I am an assistant to, resigned from our church. There are many things that led up to that decision, but for this space and audience, let me just say he and his family have been called to another church, in another state. And although it's hard to say goodbye, I know it's God's plan for them.

"And if it brings you tears, Then taste them as they fall
And let them soften your heart"

It's been a time for weeping. I'm losing not only my pastor and co-worker, but a good friend and brother in the Lord. I enjoy his wife and young girls and he and my husband have developed a friendship as well. We've worked together for close to seven years--first with me as a volunteer, while he was associate and interim, then for the past 3 and a half years as his assistant and the church secretary during his time of being the senior pastor. They have often been difficult years. We've been a church that has chosen to define itself as stuck "in transition". I'll spare you the wearing and surprisingly harsh details, but suffice it to say--brace yourself if you were not aware of this-- that often church people do not live out what they believe.

"There’s only one who knows, What’s really out there waiting
In all the moments yet to be.
And all we need to know, Is He’s out there waiting
To Him the future’s history"

After hearing the news, as God would have it I was headed to my parents for a week to help my mother recover from knee replacement surgery. His timing was perfect, as I had a week not only to focus on another person's pain, but also to think and pray through mine. One morning as I sat on their back porch sipping my cup of coffee and looking into the woods behind their house, I saw a deer come across the road and walk through the trees. Another morning, I saw a mother and her two fawns frolicking (there is really no other word to describe it!) across the road. I watched hummingbirds swarm the feeder in front of their window. I sat and talked to my best friend from school for a whole morning, hearing the story of God's work in her life. I hiked in the rocky trails of Rim Rock, reminiscing with my dad about the times we'd climbed to the tops of each outcropping. I kissed my niece and nephew goodbye as they waited together for the bus on their first day back to school, all new clothes and shoes and backpacks and excitement.

So breathe it in and breathe it out, Listen to your heartbeat
There’s a wonder in the here and now,
It’s right there in front of you
And I don’t want you to miss
The miracle of the moment

Through those things I heard the God "who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine" gently and quietly saying "Trust me." "I love you." "I remember you. Remember all I've done for you?"

"And if it brings you laughter, Then throw your head back
And let it go, let it go. You gotta let it go
Listen to your heartbeat"

It's still hard. As a visiting missionary said last week, sometimes when God's doing his best work, from our finite vantage point it just seems like it stinks to us. There are more changes, uncertainty, and difficult times ahead. But though I weep, I don't fear. The One who calls us is faithful. One of my friends said after hearing the news, "this is exciting, because it means God is working!" At the time, I found that a bit annoying, but he was right. "Trust me!" God continues to say, and I am doing my best to do just that.

"And He has given us a treasure called right now
And this is the only moment we can do anything about "

(from the song "Miracle of the Moment" by Steven Curtis Chapman)

Life Keeps Hopping Along

2008-07-20T20:16:00.007-04:00

It's a 1981 Volkswagen Rabbit. It is "Forest Green Metallic". It has 165,000 miles on it, which is actually not bad for this type of car. This is my daughter and son-in-law's "new" car. It also gets over 50 miles to the gallon, running on diesel or bio-diesel. They got a great deal on it and favorite son-in-law even got the seller to throw in a banjo he was putting in his moving sale. A rabbit and a banjo...there's got to be a joke there somewhere!

Notice the lovely terracotta interior, with the faded to purple armrests....

What makes this whole purchase ring with even greater space-time continuum oddness is that this car was manufactured the year I got my driver's license. Which didn't even seem that astounding until they said, "yeah, it's in good shape for a car that's 27 years old." 27 years old?

I still vaguely remember going to get my license. I believe my boyfriend at the time, Eddie Edwards (first name just Eddie, not Edward), drove me to the Secretary of State. He had a Volkswagen Beetle, sky blue, that had holes in the floorboard and no heat. I don't remember what car I took the test in--not his, that's for sure!
I do know my dad pretty quickly found my first car for me, an '83 Ford Escort hatchback, with a manual transmission. I found out that learning to drive a stick was a great skill to have, and even an impressive skill to some guys. I don't remember anything about the test, except the part where you had to park on a hill and turn the tire into the curb so that it wouldn't roll if the brakes failed (do they even do that any more?). I do remember that I passed it the first try, and that I experienced that feeling of exhilaration that comes from stepping up to a new level of freedom, along with the gravity of being entrusted with a new level of responsibility. It was a pretty exciting time, full of wondering where life would end up taking me.

27 years old? They just don't make them like they used to.

Sacramental Summer

2008-07-19T10:05:00.002-04:00

Apologizing once again...but summer days are fleeting and I want to spend the time enjoying them. So blogging is being back-burnered a bit and I should think reading blogs should be back-burnered a bit for all of you! Go out and stand in the sunshine or the rain or the lake. Take a deep breath. Breathe out a praise to the Lord who knows we need seasons to come and go and kick us out of the ruts of routine that we tend to stick the plow of our lives in.

"Nature to a saint is sacramental. If we are children of God, we have a tremendous treasure in Nature. In every wind that blows, in every night and day of the year, in every sign of the sky, in every blossoming and in every withering of the earth, there is a real coming of God to us if we will simply use our starved imagination to realize it."
~Oswald Chambers, My Utmost for His Highest

Go out and feed your imagination.

We don't always have to act like grown ups...

2008-07-17T08:36:00.000-04:00

Summer Dreaming

2008-07-15T20:06:00.009-04:00

In the shade of this old tree
in the summer of my dreams
By the tall grass by the wild rose
where the trees dance as the wind blows

As the days go oh so slowly
as the sun shines oh so holy
On the good and gracious green
in the summer of my dreams

By the banks of this old stream
in the summer of my dreams
By the deep pool where the fish wait
for the old fool with the wrong bait

There's a field of purple clover
there's a small cloud passing over
And the rain comes washing clean
on the summer of my dreams

See the raindrops on the grass now
just like diamonds lying there
By the old road where I pass now
there's a twilight in the air

And as the sun sets down before me
I see my true love waiting for me
Standing by the back porch screen
in the summer of my dreams

Summer of My Dreams by Kathy Mattea

Maybe it's just the vacation peace still lingering, but this song just seemed so summery, dreamily sweet that I had to share it. Forgive the shmaltz--I will get back to real, deep, and serious writing soon enough.

Just in case you wondered.....

2008-07-10T08:00:00.000-04:00

Thanks to my friend Amy for this picture of the house (taken from the lake) in the process of painting. The swatch I posted just didn't do the new color justice. You can see the old color (or really, lack of color) on the back two story section. Thankfully, we are finished with the first coat now. Anyone want to come to a "paint the second coat" party? Pizza's on us!

Oh, Baby! Phantom of the Opera

2008-07-08T22:17:00.004-04:00

This video comes courtesy of my favorite son-in-law. This is his boss' son and daughter. It just makes me laugh. You have to watch the very end. It's a classic kid thing.

Things I saw while riding on the back of the motorcycle

2008-07-08T22:04:00.004-04:00

We took a ride on the bike up to Milford tonight, ending up having an ice cream from Stucchi's which we ate at the sidewalk seating. I've been commenting to people that one of the great things about riding on the back of the bike is that I can't do anything but ride, observe, and think. You really notice things that you don't see in a car.

Tonight I saw:

>English Oaks Montessori and School of Protocol. Seriously, that is the title. It's sadly too late to send my children here. Or my husband.

>Wizard of Wood. Great name for a woodworking shop.

>A beautiful...black....goat. I tried to find a picture online of one like I saw, but none of the images did it justice. It was at a cider mill barn. You'll just have to trust me on this one.

My July Staycation

2008-07-06T15:58:00.006-04:00

So if you read this blog regularly-and somebody must be, since my counter is going up very, very, very slowly--you realize I haven't been writing much since the great long summer solstice day. And that was last month! I wouldn't presume you are missing my writing or have noticed my absence during this brief interlude of warmth we call July in Michigan--but I have made a mental promise to myself to be more disciplined in my writing and frankly, I've been a slacker.

I do have several excuses for my lack of entries:

1. I'm on a 'staycation', which is to say hubby and I have 2 weeks off and are staying at home for the most part. For a hilarious commentary on this great new, soon to be overused made up word, click here (WARNING-there is one offensive swear word in the entry! Please overlook it and laugh anyway!).

2. We have been painting the outside of our house. Please smack me if you ever here me complain that my house is too small. The color is Renwick Golden Oak (bottom right color). My family has called it the following alternative names:
>Honey Mustard
>Inside of a Butterfinger
>Regurgitated Dogfood
>Wet Sand
>Wet Camel
>Goldish color
>Palamino Horse Color
Sherwin Williams won't be hiring them as paint-color-namers any time soon (now there's a cool job!), but we think it looks great, and hallelujah, hubby says we'll just work on the second coat slowly over the rest of the summer. (Side note: We once painted our den/music room a lovely "Sonatina Tan". How's that for good feng shui?)

3. I'm not in my creating phase. I'm beginning to realize that I seem to go through 3 phases in my creativity. I have a consuming phase, where I enjoy a voracious appetite for books, magazines, newspapers, websites and blogs. Anything that reads--I'm on it. Summer is great for this as I have a shorter work week, longer days, more vacation time, and generally just give myself some time to "chill". When I finally have my fill of this gastronomical brain feast, I go into my digesting phase, where it just has to roll around in my brain. It needs time to "crockpot"-- time for the intertwining threads to connect and meet up with my own thoughts and experiences until I can hopefully make some sense of the literal stew. Once this phase is finished, my brain is ready to virtually spew ideas! I find myself unable to fall sleep because suddenly that quote I read days ago has turned itself into an entire witty and unforgettable story which I will not be able to remember the next morning no matter how much coffee I drink. This means I'm ready for the creating phase, where I throw in everything but the kitchen sink and hope it turns out to be something others can slowly savor and enjoy.

So there you have it. A so-so list of excuses. Now sunglasses on, I'm back on 'staycation'.

The Longest Day

2008-06-20T22:07:00.011-04:00

Happy Summer Solstice!

What a beautiful day! I don't like to use this blog as a "journal", but I got to do so many great things today...

~Drank my Arabian Mocha Sanani blend coffee on the back deck looking out at the lake while reading the Friday paper, which had a great picture and blurp about a sewing camp for kids that had met at our church this past week. And a good review of "Get Smart".

~My hubby trimmed my hair. I know it doesn't seem that noteworthy, but it saved me from going back to the salon after only 2 weeks. And it looks good.

~Rode around the lake in a 1932 Ford Deuce Coupe. And then I got to drive it. After owning it since 1957 (yes, 51 years!), my father-in-law finally has his hobby car running and he and my mother-in-law drove it out today.

~Had a great lunch (BBQed chicken sandwiches) with my in-laws.

~Rode around the lake in the boat. In the sunshine. Hot enough for a bathing suit, but not sweat inducing. Strong sun, Michigan blue sky,and fluffy clouds. Enough said.

~Took a nap laying across the bed in the sunshine. Is it just me, or does that just make it more decadent than a couch nap? Purr...yawn!

~Went to see "Get Smart". Highly recommend it. I had never even seen the original series, but what a fun movie! James Bond action and stunts with Steve Carrell humor and his odd sweetness. The most I've laughed out loud in a movie in ages.

~Rode the motorcycle with Dale out to Fenton to The French Laundry for a late supper. Highly recommend it as well! They sell Zingermann's baked goods and use their bread in their sandwiches, and I had an awesome hazelnut cappuccino and chocolate croissant for dessert (the boss' favorite--would have brought him one if he'd been in town-next time!). Definitely going back for my birthday!

~Saw two wagons loaded with square bales of hay near Fenton. Some "country" things don't change!

~After a chilly ride home, there's still time to snuggle up with a new book while hubby watches HGTV. And it's only Friday night. Thank you, Lord for extra hours of daylight!

So what did you do with your
almost 15 hours of daylight today?

The Memory of Hay

2008-06-17T21:19:00.009-04:00

"Smell is a potent wizard that transports us across thousands of miles and all the years we have lived...Even as I think of smells, my nose is full of scents that start awake sweet memories of summers gone and ripening fields far away."

Helen Keller, quoted in Nancy Ortberg's new book, Looking for God

The barn is full of hay bales. Not the big round ones you see in the fields these days that look like a giant spilled his baklava all over the countryside. These are the compact and solid small, square bales, tightly twined toward each end and about the size of a small ottoman. They stack in tightly like bricks, filling the far end of the large metal barn on my granddad's cattle farm. As my father slides the large rolling door open, my sister and I race in, climbing quickly to be the first to reach the top. They are stacked in a staggered fashion, leaving an puzzle-like staircase for us to clamor up. Sometimes the stack reaches to the top of the barn and our dad issues a caution to "be careful" to us as we try to touch the ceiling. We carefully sit and peer down on he and his father, chatting beside the dark green tractor parked in the main area, or checking on an expectant cow that might be confined to the barn until her delivery. We feel like giants sitting on a sweet smelling dried clover sofa. When we climb down, we often take a moment to push away the loose strands of residue at the edge of the stack to see the spot in the concrete where we pushed our hands in the wet cement and wrote our names with a stick. We lay our hands over the impressions, seeing how much our hand extends beyond the print and noting how much more grown up we are now.

In the years to come, I grow old enough to drive the tractor with the brick red wagon-trailer behind it, as my dad and granddad walk along and pick up the baled hay from the field. A hired man comes in and rakes the fields, following up with a hay baler. It's a fascinating machine that draw the loose, dried grasses into it's inner workings and shoots the twined bales out a square shoot in the back. Picking up hay is back breaking work, and I wonder at my grandfather, who even then seemed too ancient to be doing such hard labor. Driving for them requires focus and attention in a boring job so as not to go too fast and to hold steady on the steep hills of the farm pasture. Once in a moment of inattentiveness, I push down on the clutch and miss the gear allowing the whole rig to roll forward too quickly and get quite a scare as I rush down the hill, loosing a few bales along the way. Neither man chides me though--they only worry that I'll be hurt and urge me to be more careful. We proceed through the morning, slow and steady, until the hay is piled higher than they can toss the bales and we head back to the barn. I slide over and let my dad drive us in at a faster pace, thankful for a respite and the slight breeze that cools my sunburned arms.

These bales will last through the winter to feed the small herd of black angus my granddad raises for food and profit. They graze on the 80 acres that contain the farmhouse, a small pond, another smaller barn, and an oil well pump and tanks that emit a pungent oily crude smell of their own. Soon we head to the house, sweat and dirt mixing with an itchiness from the hay. It's a good tired we feel, and grandmother greets us with a cold cup of water, or maybe a bottle of orange soda which we accept gratefully.

When I was only 19 years old, newly married and newly moved to Michigan, I took a job that required me to take a bus from the suburbs to downtown Detroit in the early winter for 2 weeks of training. One day the bus let us off in front of a construction area where they were pouring new sidewalks. There were bales of straw, some broken open and scattered near the site. As we hurried into the building, someone commented on the "bales of hay" and how out of place they were here in the big city. "It's straw, not hay. Trust me, I know hay from straw," I commented. After our elevator had climbed high to our class on one of the upper floors of the skyscraper, I peered down from one of the windows to the street below. I smiled and wondered how it would be to press my hand into the wet concrete below and leave my mark beside the square twined bales.

"All Those Stories"

2008-06-11T08:00:00.001-04:00

"But the thing about remembering is that you don't forget. You take your material where you find it, which is in your life, at the intersection of past and present. The memory-traffic feeds into a rotary up on your head, where it goes in circles for a while, then pretty soon imagination flows in and the traffic merges and shoots off down a thousand different streets. As a writer, all you can do is pick a street and go for the ride, putting things down as they come at you. That's the real obsession. All those stories."

Tim O'Brien, "The Things They Carried"

I'm Going to Kathmandu..

2008-06-10T20:04:00.001-04:00

I stopped at the 7-11 for coffee last week. I know this must seem blasphemous to those of you who know that my son works at the Great Coffee Monopoly, but sometimes I just get in a hurry and don't want to make coffee at home. And my son never works in the morning, so I'm stuck only being able to get freebies that are decaf during his evening shifts, or an occasional latte made by Pedro (who as far as I know is neither Mexican or straight, but is totally adorable!) when I run by when I'm grocery shopping.

So, about once a week I stop in for amazingly good coffee that only costs $1.16 for a grande size. There is always a young man conscientiously cleaning and straightening up the coffee area, and in a friendly mood for not yet having had my morning fix I asked,
"Which one is your best coffee?"
With a slight accent he replied, "the regular roast."
"Really? Well, I'll try it." Always interested in people's accents, curiosity got the best of me. "Where are you from?"
"Nepal."
"Oh! I love Nepalese food!"
Ok, is that about the most lame thing you can say to someone from another country or what? I do love it though. We had the best Nepalese meal at a little restaurant in Frisco, CO of all places the day after we skied Arapahoe Basin.

(Kathmandu Cafe')

"Where do you get around here?" he asked (his English is a little broken).
"There used to be a great place in Royal Oak, Kathmandu Chulo, but it closed recently. There are probably other places around here though." Then I added, "I'd love to go to Nepal."
He said, "The mountains! Mt. Everest--you have to see. Everyone goes there."
"I would love to see it--the mountains there must be amazing!"
"Let's go!" he said with a smile.
I laughed. "Not today, I have work to do!"
I left, but couldn't help pondering throughout the day--what if I could just go to Nepal today?

In case you missed it...

2008-06-10T08:00:00.000-04:00

In case you were without power due to the recent storm, I did a "Grown Up" first this week. A prize offer! Don't miss your chance to win! Check it out!

On forgetting things

2008-06-09T08:02:00.000-04:00

Michael Anderson, a memory researcher at the University of Oregon in Eugene, has tried to estimate the cost in time of forgetting things. "According to a decade's worth of "forgetting diaries" kept by his undergraduate students (the amount of time it takes to find the car keys, for example), Anderson calculates that people squander more than a month of every year just compensating for things they've forgotten." (National Geographic)"

I'm usually pretty good about remembering stuff. Over the years I've developed habits for putting keys on their hook, receipts in their file, and books on their shelves so that I don't waste a month of my life looking for them. Remembering is a skill that is helpful and necessary in my job. ("necessary" is a word I always forget how to spell!). As an assistant, a big part of my job is to help my boss remember various appointments, meetings, phone calls, and names. I have found that my ability to remember useless trivia like how to say the ingredients of a Big Mac sandwich backwards (it was a contest), has transferred over to being able to remember who mentioned that their wife might want to help head up the church picnic planning committee or what is the name of the 3rd child of that huge family that homeschools. It seems like God has a sense of humor about how he gives us ways to use our natural gifts.

Sometimes other people remember things involving us that we have no recollection of taking part in. Years ago, a woman who had just started coming to a Bible study I was involved in shared with our group that she remembered a day when I came in to the clothing shop she owned. As I was standing in line, a woman clearly cut in front of me. As she worked the register, she was surprised that I didn't make a fuss, but just let it go. I said something about how she must have been in a hurry, paid for my purchase, and went on my way without any sign of anger or malice. Something about it sparked her, and she wondered what made me different. She had come to know Jesus, and noted it as a signpost of sorts--God showing her a glimpse of a different way of living--one she later attributed to my living as a follower of Jesus. I had no idea of the impact at the time (I'm just usually weirdly patient in lines) and really no recollection of it, other than maybe a vague memory of being in the store.

I just hope I've forgotten more things like that.

Advice to the Young Me

2008-06-07T16:42:00.005-04:00

Imagine....time travel has been perfected. And despite dire warnings about disrupting the whole space-time continuum, you are allowed to do it. The following restriction is given: You can only go back to one time in your life and you can only give yourself one minute of advice. What would you say? What advice would you give to the younger you? Would you tell yourself to be more grateful? More relaxed? Worry less? Exercise more? Eat dessert first? Would you warn yourself? Don't take that job. Don't marry that man/woman. Don't buy that house. Don't put off that doctor's appointment. Would you encourage yourself? Don't give up on getting your degree. Keep trying to get published. Be open to that relationship. I think I would go back to when I was 22, after my first child had just been born. We had been married about 3 years, and I had dropped out of college to work so we could get into a house and start a family. It was a time of beginnings and really entering adulthood. I can think of a few things I would say:

Savor this time while your kids are young and don't hurry them or yourself so much.

Start a journal and make yourself write in it.

Wear a bikini now. It's only going to get worse and you'll kick yourself later for being so self-conscious.

Don't ask 'what will people think?' as much as 'what do I think?'

Spend less on stuff and give more away.

You won't regret buying that boat. It will foster years of family fun and memories.

Don't waste time working at what you don't really love or enjoy unless it's absolutely necessary. If it is absolutely necessary, ask God to show you something that makes it bearable and even enjoyable.

Pray more. Read more scripture. Less rules. More love.

I realize as I read back over my list, that most of what I've listed is still good advice to myself now. Of course, the problem isn't in giving the advice--it's in taking it and putting it into practice. So, Self, listen up! You heard Yourself! Now just do it! There. And we didn't even cause any trouble with the whole space time continuum.

I know you're out there, blog readers! What advice would you give yourself? Special book prize goes to the most profound comment. Or the one I just like the best! Family members are not necessarily disqualified from winning, but get no special advantage either!

My Dear Body!

2008-06-02T20:22:00.004-04:00

"Why, I say, should I ever have bitterly blamed [my body] for such trifles as I have blamed it for: for having too much flesh in this spot, too little muscle in that, for producing this wrinkle, that sag, that gray hair, or this texture? Dear body! My dear body! It has gone about its incessant business with very little thanks." ~Janet Burroway, quoted in O Magazine

Oh, but I am "bitterly blaming" it tonight. But not for trifles. Actually, after going to my mini-reunion Memorial weekend and seeing a few friends I went to school with 25 years ago, I felt like thanking it for holding up pretty well. There were no more wrinkles, sags or grays than anyone else--less than some. At the very least, I felt comfortable and confident in my body--something few of us feel when we are in our teens.

No, the outward 'trifles' are not giving me pain, but the inner workings are incessant in their complaints. For months now, I have been living with a nagging and restless pain in my neck and shoulder. Diagnosed at first as a pinched nerve in my elbow, then as muscular shoulder problems, and now as a damaged joint at the bottom of my neck, finding the source has felt like trying to hit a bullseye at a carnival. You think you've got the right pitch to score the big teddy bear, but there's something fishy about the whole set up that makes it just about impossible. Some days it feels like the doctors are about as competent as the 'carnies' running the midway, and I'm stuck going from booth to booth and giving out more money. I can't even imagine what it must be like to have a serious life-threatening illness.

I won't give you the boring details. I won't go into the emotional flare-ups that this sometimes ignites at times due to growing up with a parent who suffered chronic pain. I will say that God is there in the midst of it and it does keep me clinging, complaining, crying, and trusting Him when it gets to be too wearing.

It is why I haven't been writing much lately (well, that and I big women's event that I helped put on at my church). Physically, it's just not very good to be on the computer any more than I have to be. Mentally though, I'm missing the creative outlet. So, I plan to get going again. (Maybe it will inspire me to be more concise!) If you talk to God on a regular basis, mention me when you think of it.

Best Friends Forever

2008-05-22T08:00:00.002-04:00

This weekend I head to Illinois with hubby, son, daughter and favorite son-in-law to spend some time with my parents, grandparents, and my sister's family. While it's going to be time focused on family, I'm most excited about going to my high school's alumni banquet. Open to anyone who has ever graduated from NCOE High School (Home of the Fighting Cardinals!), it's held every year over Memorial Weekend. My dad goes every year and tells me they honor the biggies-25 years (me? whoa!), 50 years, and probably others--I've never actually been before. While it's not really a full blown reunion since less than a dozen from my class will be going, I can hardly wait to see them.

I moved away from the small town I grew up in at age 18, after going to school there from kindergarten through Senior year. When I try to tell my friends who graduated from large schools (my husband's graduating class was 800), about the bonds of growing up with a class of 55, it’s hard to explain. We had so many shared experiences--the same teachers, same playgrounds, and same corner stores. We went to the same basketball games, took driver’s ed from the same instructor who had been our grade school gym teacher—we really grew up together in a shared small world. I tell them that many of my classmates were more like my close cousins. A few of them were like my extra brothers and sisters.

When I was in the third grade, I was in Mrs. Wood’s class, at the top of the wooden stairs on the second floor of the two-story elementary school. A new little girl was introduced to the class. Well, actually two little girls—twins. They had recently moved back to southern Illinois from a some strange place up north called Walled Lake, Michigan. They had rhyming first names as many twins do, and they were cute and smart and sweet. I was always concerned about kids that were new or struggling (My dad’s constant phrase during those years was, “Always try to be nice to everybody”), and decided I would be their friend. The oldest was a little more outgoing than the other, and we became friends quickly as I remember. Later that year, she stole my boyfriend (we’d been together since kindergarten!), but despite what I might have said teasingly over the years, I really didn’t care at all—I just like being her friend. We would go on to be “BFF’s”.

Her sister and I were friends too, although often not in the same classes (they usually separate twins) and so not quite as close. But, we two firstborn “bestest buddies” hung together as friends throughout our school years and beyond. She (along with her sis) was in my wedding and I played piano for hers. We visited each other occasionally over the years, even though many miles apart. Every time it seems like we just pick up where we left off, and we vow to do better on keeping in touch. But life tugs and pulls you in other directions sometimes, and mostly we only reconnect every few years.

It’s funny how our lives have flipped-flopped in many ways. While I married young and had my first child at 21, she finished college first, married, divorced (sadly, and with no children) and pursued a career. When my kids were in high school, she remarried a quite younger man (you go, girl!) and started a family. She was in Missouri then came back to live in southern Indiana only about 40 miles from where we grew up. And the funny thing is, I now live only a few miles from that strange city called “Walled Lake, Michigan”.

I looked up her number last week and left a message saying I would be at the banquet, and hoped she’d be able to come. I missed her call back, but enjoyed hearing the southern twang, that I’ve sadly lost most of by now, on voice mail saying, “I’ll be there!”

I’m so glad I was nice to her in third grade. And I’m so over boyfriend! See you soon, BFFTTE!

Sunshine with a Frappacino

2008-05-20T16:18:00.000-04:00

Yes, it's another article on how coffee really is good for you! Come on, where else are you going to get this kind of helpful information? Where else can you glean vital facts to justify your reloading your Starbuck's card?

From the most recent issue of Good Housekeeping magazine, comes the information that "your daily coffee may help you fend off skin cancer." Researchers report that for every cup you drink per day, your chance of developing non-melanoma skin cancer later in life drops by 5%. A couple of Ventis per day would lower your chances by 30%. "It's possible coffee's antioxidant effect helps to protect against skin cancer," reports a professor from Detroit's Wayne State University School of Medicine. Of course the Michigander also admits that part of the benefits "may be that people who drink a lot of coffee tend to stay indoors more."

So, grab your frozen mocha frappacino or iced coffee and get out there and grab those few Michigan rays while we've got them! (Note: No French researchers were quoted during the writing of this article.)

People Who Make Me Happy!

2008-05-19T18:39:00.007-04:00

"Let us be grateful to people who make us happy. They are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom" Marcel Proust

A short list of the charming gardeners in my life. (Forgive me if you're not on here. I love you too. It's not unabridged.)

My husband, who gets me and still likes hanging out with me after 25 years. Even if when I'm whiny. And just started playing electric guitar for fun. Quietly.

My funny, thinks-like-me daughter, who recently sent me this line in an email:

"you're super executive assistant woman! You can leap over tall stacks of bulletins in a single bound! You can generate multiple Google docs while counseling whiney parishoners! You can speak Pastor! The world of executive assistants to the pastor salutes you!"
(not that any of you are whiny....)

My son-in-law who uses words like "Ridiculous!" and "Amazing!" to describe anything he deems cool/fun/crazy and plays guitar beautifully and is just fun and at least does a good job of pretending he likes hanging out with us.

My dad, who still calls me 'a varmit'.

My mom, who calls me just to talk. A lot.

My sister who manages to be sweet and encouraging even while 8 hours away.

My sister-in-law who actually trusts me to give her child raising advice from time to time.

My mentally handicapped friend, Barb, who calls just to say she's excited about going bowling with a friend. And wears pants that say "I'm a keeper".

My boss (honest, I'm not sucking up...!), who can quote Seinfeld and The Office and Eugene Petersen and is willing to share enough hilarious stories about his daughters so we don't go nuts in the office.

My friend Amy, who laughs at my lame jokes and is willing to sing stupid songs with me. ("The greatest Sub of all...")

Forever grateful to you all.

"Laugh with your happy friends when they're happy; share tears when they're down. Get along with each other; don't be stuck-up. Make friends with nobodies; don't be the great somebody. (The Message, Romans 12:14-16)

Live the Mission Here

2008-05-15T08:14:00.003-04:00

From a great article in this month's Relevant Magazine titled "Fake Plastic World" comes this quote from a group of people who spent 3 months in communist China. They were challenged not only in their misconception of China, but also their thoughts about "mission work" in general:

"Some redefined thought patterns have been the incarnational realization that love without mission is fake; mission without love is injustice; and if we are not reaching out right now wherever we are with love, mission and excellence of work, why would we sincerely do that in another country?"

The Things I Remember

2008-05-11T21:10:00.001-04:00

"Stories are for joining the past to the future. Stories are for those late hours in the night when you can't remember how you got from where you were to where you are. Stories are for eternity, when memory is erased, when there is nothing to remember except the story."
~Tim O'Brien, "The Things They Carried"

I can remember attending my great-grandfather's funeral. I was only 5. I remember that it was at the small country church up the gravel road from our house. Like you would imagine a one-room school house, it had a vestibule and one small sanctuary room, the far end elevated a step and accommodating a piano and pulpit. I walked there, with a relative, (I think my aunt), not my parents. I remember standing in the pew to sing, a man in a white suit, and looking in the casket at my paternal grandmother's father. He and my great-grandmother Cox had lived down the road from us in an old farmhouse. I remember visiting them, and I think, walking around in their yard and looking at their flowers (later note-my mother confirms that while the other grandkids didn't spend much time with him due to his hearing loss, he used to carry me around in the yard and talk to me). My mom has a picture of me with the two of them, taken in their kitchen, held in my grandfather's arms. They look proud and enthralled by the energy and whimsy that can only come from a little girl who is well loved.

I remember Grandad Cox sitting on the concrete front porch of my grandparent's farm house in his rocking chair with the wide flat armrests while we all sat in various chairs or on the cool concrete as we grew sleepy after Sunday dinner and sought out a cool spot after the residual heat from the kitchen leaked through the rest of the house. My great-grandmother would be around for many more years, living to be 98 years old. She died shortly after I was married, having spent her last years alternating monthly between living at my grandmother's and her sister's house. She was mostly unable to care for herself at the end, and so hard of hearing that time spent there left you exhausted from speaking loudly all afternoon so as to include her in the conversations. But, we did it, uncomplaining. Where I grew up, you showed respect to your elders--you honored them.

I remember very little else about my great-grandfather. I learned years later that he had not allowed his daughters to learn to drive, but that they waited until he went off to work, then taught themselves. My grandmother worked at a cafe in town when she was only 18, supposedly without him even knowing it.

My grandparents are both still living alone, "in town"(they sold the farm house only a few years ago). They are only able to do this because my dad and mom take care of them, checking on them every day. Some days dad takes Grandad Douglas to the local restaurant to visit, but most days now he's not up for it. He recently renewed his drivers liscence. After driving to the nearby town and taking the test, Grandmother had to drive him home-he was too tired. He doesn't really drive anymore. He is 99 years old after all. It's a "I am still a grown man" kind of statement. Grandmother turns 90 in July, and I'm sure she will fight to keep her independence, when he is gone--the same determined spirit she had when she was young still peeking through, even as she seems to emotionally hang on my father more and more. Having spent so many years caring for her own frail and demanding mother in her last years, she will not give up easily to being cared for in the daily routine things.

I am going to visit them in a couple of weeks. Getting a little older tends to make you take stock more often of how "you got from where you were to where you are", and there are times I see their life patterns imprinted in mine. How sad it is that we usually know so little of the truth and the real stories of our grandparent's lives. It should remind us to ask better questions of our own parents and grandparents that are still living. We should ask them to share their stories. We may be surprised at what they remember.

Heads Will Roll

2008-05-08T20:04:00.006-04:00

One of the fun cultural things we did while we were in the Yucatan penninsula was visit Mayan ruins. I guess it was technically the only cultural thing we did while we were there, other than the day I went shopping at the "Hacienda" and bargained for a cute shell bracelet that may or may not have been made locally. Most people visit the ruins at Tulum, which are beautifully situated on the ocean. Since we had rented a car and were halfway there when we visited the cenotes, we decided instead to go to the less touristy site of Coba. "Coba is estimated to have had some 50,000 inhabitants (and possibly significantly more) at its peak of civilization, and the built up area extends over some 80 km." states Wikipedia. Mexican cultural sites are nothing like our national parks or historic areas in the U.S. At Coba, you pull into a gravel parking lot and pay $4 to park. We walked up to what seemed to be a place that sold maps, but they said "no maps". When we entered right away the local guides offered their services. Planning a speedy trip through we waved them off and continued on. A few hundred yards in, there is an area full of worn looking bicycles. We are told the largest 'pyramid' is several kilometers in. Looking ahead at the dusty, hot trail (it was near 90 degrees) we shelled out the 60 pesos ($6 US) for 2 bikes and started riding.
Now is when I have to admit that most of what I know about the Mayan culture I learned from watching "Apocalypto", a movie rated R for "sequences of graphic violence and disturbing images", and my Frommer's Guide book. So, not much. Suffice it to say that the experience would have been more historically enriching if I'd known what I was looking at. There were no nice national park service signs (you've got to check out that link) telling you facinating stuff like "ahead on your right you will see the largest specimen of igneous rock in the state of Arizona formed 20 million years ago".

I remembered seeing pictures describing the ball court, where my son later informed me games were played and the losing team would be put to death! And the Tigers think they're under pressure!

Still, we managed to get directions to the largest pyramid in the group, Nohoch Mul meaning 'large hill'. It is 138 feet high and is the highest in the Yucatan peninsula.

Here is my
"yes, I'm going to climb
this baby!" look.

Going up was hot and work, but easy.

A sweet French couple took our picture.
Realization after I got down....I'm sitting on the spot where they cut off people's heads!

The trip down is a little more intimidating....

Stopping for a rest.

Dessert was so worth it that night!

Travel Diversity

2008-05-08T16:55:00.001-04:00

Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one's lifetime. ~Mark Twain, The Innocents

Cultural diversity is something you are bound to encounter on any vacation. And I'm not just talking about there being Canadians from every province all visiting Mexico the week we were there. "We're from P.E.I! Where are you from? B.C.! My aunt lives there! Lovely here, eh?" (by the way, British Columbia's slogan is "Super, Natural B.C."--cool and spooky at the same time). Anyway, it was fun getting to practice our Spanish as we interacted with the Mexican people who took care of us. Off the resort, Dale struck up a conversation with a young man on a "collectivo", the Yucatan's answer to public transportation. These are 15 passenger vans that run up and down the main highway stopping to cram 12-18 people inside. For $2 they will drop you anywhere along the strip-a bargain for vacationers wanting to venture "off resort". Through their conversation (he had lived in the U.S. for a while and spoke very good English) hubby learned that he had been a desk clerk at the resort we were staying. Salary? $5 a day. That's it. You started to understand why the bus boys that deliver your luggage were always older men--they got frequent tips which would boost their daily salary tremendously. It was a step up from desk clerk. Sobering. Now I know that there is a great difference in cost of living there, but I also know how much the collectivo cost-$2 a person.

I need to appreciate what I have more than I do, that's for sure. And to quit whining about gas prices.

Of course, then there's these guys:

They run a kiteboarding business on Paradise Beach in Tulum. The kites were amazing to watch, and of course hubby would have loved to give it a try. Cost? $200 for a 4 hour lesson. That's right-$50 bucks and hour. Are we in the wrong business or what? (They are eating some kind of pies they bought from a young Mexican kid that was selling them from a tray.) Too cool.

Tommorrow I'll tell you about the Mayan component of our trip. No heads will roll, I promise.

La Buena Vida! (or "The Good Life")

2008-05-06T19:03:00.009-04:00

Carpe Mañana! Translation: "seize the day...tomorrow!" Well, maybe not the literal translation, but this T-shirt saying is meant to convey the type of laid back atmosphere and attitude at "La Buena Vida" Bar & Restaurant on Half Moon Bay near Akumal, Mexico. I hadn't posted any more trip pictures for fear you'd all think this blog was going to be the equivalent of a neighbor inviting you over to see the slide show of pictures from their Poconos trip. But in honor of Cinco de Mayo, or rather it's lesser celebrated, Seis de Mayo, I felt compelled to share. So grab your margarita or Coruna's (come ooonnn, live a little!) and check these out.

The bar, with hanging fishbone--shark!

(well, actually I don't know what kind of fishbones, but don't you think they would be shark?)

What's not to love about a place
with swings for seating....

and a view like this....

And fish tacos and ceviche that was to die for?

Or maybe it was just
the view with the food that made it so good?

How about this 'seat with a view'?

Oh, Honey? I dropped my lime wedge. Could you get me another?

No, we didn't actually eat up here,

but I wouldn't miss a chance to check it out.

I didn't spit on anyone. Really.

This was the best meal we had the whole week. Better than the French gourmet, better than the Italian tirimisu, better than the BBQ'ed ribs. And we almost passed it. We were on a long walk (25-30 minutes) back to the bus stop from Yal Ku Lagoon, a beautiful inland lagoon where fresh water meets salt water and there are hundreds of beautiful tropical fish.

Does he look happy or what?

It was hot and dusty and we were damp. We almost passed it.
But, I said, "I think I read about this place in the Frommers book!" Good thing your wife is a reader. He's going to owe me for a while for this one.

More pics mañana .

Nap Vs. Coffee

2008-05-04T13:13:00.003-04:00

Haven't we all been there before? At least if you are a coffee lover. I have an open Sunday afternoon with the freedom to nap off the lingering effects of a busy Sunday morning followed by a yummy Sunday dinner (that's what we called Sunday lunch growing up, and gosh darn it, why should I bow to the northern grammar police on everything!). I have good stuff to read though, online & off. Do I go for a cup of the brew, or catch a few zzz's to propel me back to semi-alertness?

According to a recent French study, (what is it with the French and their coffee studies? Don't they have other things to research? Like, how staying skinny while eating chocolate and drinking wine may be the reason we choose to portray them as rude?) "the older you are, the less efficient napping is at increasing your alertness". Two groups were tested-one ages 20-25, the other in their 40's. The test was to see if they could stay in their lane driving 80 miles an hour--first during the daytime, then again at 2:00 am. In the daytime, both groups did fine (80?these must have been Michigan drivers). At 2:00 am, and after a cup of decaf, neither group did well (who volunteers to ride along with these people?). After a nap, only the the younger group did well, while for the over 40 group only regular coffee helped keep them in line. Why? Researchers say that the 20 somethings got more restful deep sleep during their half hour of napping than the 40+ group.

So, if you are over forty, once again coffee again proves itself as vital to our cognitive processes. So go enjoy your afternoon cup! I'm going to make a pot myself--after I take my Sunday afternoon nap.

What Do You Want to Be When You Grow Up?

2008-05-03T16:10:00.000-04:00

"All of us in our forties and beyond need to come to a reckoning of what we wanted to be and who we actually are; that's one definition of maturity. Grown-ups can accept that they aren't international opera stars or Nobel Prizewinners in medicine, rather than live in disappointment, they appreciate the reality of who they've become and acknowledge their skills, accomplishments and lessons learned." (Laura Fraser in an article in More Magazine)

"What do you want to be when you grow up?"

A simple question we ask children from the time they are very small. When I was a kid, at various points I wanted to be a vet, a music teacher, an author, a poet, and I'm sure a few other things I've long since forgotten. With the exception of the vet, I've actually been all of the other things at one time or another, to one degree or another. We've owned 2 dogs during our marriage, both of which developed nasty biting habits and had to be sent away (one to be put down, the other to live in the country in what really could be considered 'doggy heaven'), so I'm thinking there's a reason for that one. I wrote poetry when I was in high school and won some minor awards, enough to feel my poetic and oh-so-mournful 16 year old soul had been taken seriously. Even without a teaching degree, I was able to teach piano for many years and enjoyed the interaction and joy of seeing children learn a new skill. A few years ago I taught vocal music at a private school, preschool through 5th grade, and enjoyed it, but realized this would not have been a good long term career for me for various reasons.

As far as writer....well, other than the drama stuff, I haven't really lived that one out. That is part of the reason for this blog--I really wanted something that compelled me to write on a more regular basis, with the hope it might develop into more.

Did I want to be a Nobel Prize winner? Nope. Opera star? Maybe Grand Ol' Opry...but no, not really. Did I want to be a church secretary and pastor's assistant? To quote an often used co-worker's phrase...'Are you kidding me?'

Few of us end up where we thought we'd be when we were first asked that question. Is it 'giving up' or 'growing up' when we let go of the early dreams we had for ourselves? Maybe the maturity lies in examining our early dreams for the underlying desire that gave them birth.

The little boy that wanted to be a fireman may have had a longing to help and rescue people in distress. That desire might play out in adulthood to a lucrative career as a doctor or a calling as a missionary.

We shouldn't live in disappointment that we didn't grow up to be ballerinas or major league baseball players, but as Ms. Fraser states, we should "appreciate the reality" of who we've become. I agree, but with one caveat. While I think it is necessary to "come to a reckoning of what we wanted to be and who we actually are", I don't think we should give up so easily on that earlier unrealized dream.

Wanted to be a ballerina? It's never to late to have fun learning to move and sway in a dance class. Wanted to be a Major League player? There are some really fun softball leagues playing for the joy of the sport.

Want to be a writer? Why not start out with a blog? You never know what you might end up being when you finally grow up.

Getting Younger on the Inside

2008-05-01T19:40:00.005-04:00

"How old would you be if you didn't know how old you are?" (seen on a magnet in O'Hare airport).

If you had to totally rely on your inner heart/mind/soul clock, how old would you be? Take out of the equation what the mirror tells you and what others might say. Just imagine. 22? 37? 64? We always tell our children to 'act their age'. If you really didn't know, would you act the same? Are you acting a certain way because it's how you believe you are supposed to act at your age?

Maybe a way to measure is to ask, do you look or act like your mother or father did at your age? This is a tough one, since it's always a challenge to know what they were truly like at that time. By the time she was my age, my mother had already lived with a difficult and painful disease for almost 20 years. She was affected and shaped by a weight that I have not had to bear-limited physically, but not in spirit. I have been physically active, purposely so through my adult life, and the strength and energy boost that comes with that has affected me physically and mentally.
Age really is an attitude thing though. Want to be younger at heart? Don't like the inner age you've settled for? Ask yourself:

Do I embrace change and look for the positive in it?
Do I still seek out new experiences or always choose the safe course?
Do I reach out to others and develop new friendships with people of all ages?
Do I believe in the God who is always making all things new and gives us chances to start over?

I take comfort in the fact that God renews us in our inner being. Sounds like the best makeover to me!

By the way, I guess I'd be 34. Except on some days when I'd swear I'm 23! And others when I'm at least 68! (Decisiveness is not one of my strong points--maybe it's a lack of maturity thing)

How about you?

Growing Up in a Small Town

2008-04-24T19:47:00.003-04:00

You know you are from a small town when (borrowed from an internet list)...

1. You know the population of your town because it's on the sign as you enter.
2. You can name everyone in your high school graduation class.
3. If you said a swear word, your parents knew about it within an hour.
4. It was cool to date somebody from the neighboring town.
5. You gave directions by people, not street names. (Turn at the Nelson house, go east to Andersons' and it's four houses left of the track field.)
6. You saw at least one friend a week driving his tractor through town.
7. All directions included "the 4 way stop" as a reference.
8. Your teachers mentioned when they had your parents in class.
9. The closest mall, movie theater, and McDonald's was a long drive.
10. You've "parked" with a date behind a barn.
Bonus: You've peed in a cornfield.

I thought it was high time to include a Top 10 list (Letterman's are sooo overrated) in this blog!

I grew up in a small town. Well, not really even in a town. Technically, on a rural route about 3 miles away from a town with a sign that said population 300. And although that was the name of the town in our address, the town that was 5 minutes away (ok, 7 minutes if you weren't trying to drive really fast to avoid missing your curfew) where I went to school was really my town. Population 1,500 (Saa-lute!). I've been thinking about that little town a lot lately due to my 25 year class reunion coming up. The school I attended (from kindergarten through 12 grade) has a banquet each year for all the alumni. That's right--anyone who ever graduated from the school, which has been there since before my dad graduated there in 1956. That is a small town thing. At the event, the classes celebrating the 'biggies' like 25 and 50 years get special recognition. I can't wait to see some of the people I grew up with and hopefully see some of the teachers that influenced me over the years.

There are some real disadvantages to growing up in a small town, but I don't think any of them played out to my detriment. I do think there were a lot of advantages though, so I made my own list.

Top 10 Ways growing up in a small town helps you as a grown up:
1. You know almost everyone and they know you. This gave me a sense of responsibility and accountability. You are more likely to help someone you know by name and family. You are more likely to clean up the trash you leave behind (literally and figuratively) when you know someone who knows your name may be watching.
2. You are more likely to live near nature. Whether it's farmland, woods, or mountain, you are more likely to grow up with more opportunities to get away from people and contemplate and develop an appreciation for creation.
3. You don't have easy access to a mall. With less temptation to spend, you learn to save up for what you really want .
4. You don't have easy access to a movie theater.With less entertainment at your fingertips, you have to learn ways to entertain yourself (the internet has probably changed this and # 3 a bit!).
5. You don't always have a bunch of friends to choose from to hang out with. This makes you have to learn to get along with who you do have to hang out with, even if it's annoying siblings or annoying neighbor kids. You learn to "love the one you're with" and work through the relationship junk.
6. You grow up with mostly the same group of kids through your school years. You see the things that shape them, and how they grow or are stiffled by them. You learn that when people act a certain way, often it has to do with something from their past--often something that was out of their control.
7. You are more likely to eat food you've had a part of growing. This teaches you how much work it is to get the food we take for granted. It teaches you the value of protecting the environment and managing resources. It might also turn you into a vegetarian, as you often pet the food you eventually eat. (Didn't work in my case)
8. You can be big fish in a small pond. Ambitious enough to run for office? You can probably get elected. Want to be on a sports team? Want to be in the school play? Want to work at the local store? They always need more people. This gives you experience and confidence and skills for if you are the small fish in the big pond one day.
9. You learn that you shouldn't think more highly of yourself than you ought to. Most small town people just won't put up with people that are too big for their britches. They won't tolerate people that look down on others for being different, poor, hard-working, or just 'small-town'. They know that everyone has to start somewhere and can choose to make something of themselves or squander what God has given them.
10. You learn how to pee outside. Even if you're a girl. Enough said.

Disagree? Have any of your own? Comments--give me comments!

Vacation Expectations

2008-04-21T20:36:00.017-04:00

Like all great travellers, I have seen more than I remember, and remember more than I have seen. ~Benjamin Disraeli

Vacation was wonderful. I could lie and say it was boring or the weather was bad or the food was awful to make you feel better, but it was all good. So much of vacation is expectation. We dream and ponder what a certain place will be like, and we begin to imagine ourselves there-what we will see and do and experience. Hubby and I spent hours on Trip Advisor before and after we made our reservations trying to figure out what we would enjoy doing the most. It gave us great ideas, but in the end, you just have to go and roll with it. You have to be willing to let go of expectations that aren't jiving with the realities of the place you find yourself in and choose to make the best of it. The most fun things are often born out of the spontaneous--and out of the being open to whatever or whoever comes your way. Vacation is a lot like life that way.

The resort was gorgeous, with great food and beautiful pools.

One of the best days we had was the day we rented a car and explored outside of the resort. We had heard about cenotes, and went off to explore. Cenotes are sinkholes, where underground water sources have eaten away the limestone and then the surface rock has collapsed in. A not very appealing description of some of the most beautiful places we've seen. Imagine Mammoth Cave underwater--and you snorkeling over the top of it. As the rainwater seeps through the soil into a cenote, it filters it, and you end up with almost no "suspended particulate matter". Which is a fancy way to say it is very, very clear water. There are very few fish. Dale is actually several feet underwater in the second picture. This is Gran Cenote.

The real show is under the water, as you can see in this video taken by scuba divers in the cenote:

Beautiful Home

2008-04-07T21:58:00.004-04:00

No one realizes how beautiful it is to travel until he comes home and rests his head on his old, familiar pillow. ~Lin Yutang

It is good to be home. But, it is also good to be on vacation, and the first Monday after returning from vacation should just automatically be a "you get to be grumpy" day. Especially when you end up with a post-travel springtime sinus infection. And you have a pile of work on your desk.

You find yourself just longing for another look at this view:

I will be sharing a few stories from our trip over the next week. And in the meantime, I'll try to enjoy the beautiful sunny spring we are having here.

I am rejoicing in my old familiar pillow....

Caribbean Dreams

2008-04-07T21:27:00.004-04:00

"The World is a book, and those who do not travel read only a page." ~St. Augustine

Ok, maybe that quote is a little highbrow for a trip to the Mayan Riviera, but it conveys the spirit that hubby and I like to take on any vacation. And so tomorrow we dive into the adventure of exploring a part of the Yucatan Penninsula. We plan to lay on the beach, snorkel with the sea turtles, swim in cenotes, and eat too much great food.

I get to use my passport for the first time!

"A passport, as I'm sure you know, is a document that one shows to government officials whenever one reaches a border between countries, so the officials can learn who you are, where you were born, and how you look when photographed unflatteringly." ~Lemony Snicket

Mine definitely fits this description.

I'll do my best to bring back some sunshine and heat for all the Michiganders. See you all next week!

Real Grown Ups: Stories of people that are well on their way to being "mature"

2008-04-06T21:34:00.004-04:00

Filling out the usual plethora of forms at the doctor's office the other day, I came to the blank marked "person to contact in case of an emergency (not living in your home)". I started to do the usual and write in the name of my in-laws (my parent's don't live locally), when I realized I could put my daughter's name in that blank. She is after all a married, self-supporting 21 year old adult with a cell phone and a car. I stopped a moment and let the gravity of that hit me--she is now a real grown up. Now I know a lot of people would say 'heeello!' She's been married and gone for almost a year now! But if you have grown children, you will know what I mean when I say it is a process. Seeing your child--the one whose nose, bottom, and tears you wiped--as an adult takes some getting used to.

It's not like we haven't been having 'grown up' conversations for a long time. This is the kid who at the ripe age of four asked at a restaurant, "Mommy, what does 'gay' mean?" and wouldn't take 'happy' for an answer. We've talked about what it means to 'be good' and later what it means to live out your faith in a school enviroment where your beliefs are not the accepted norm. We've talked about what it means to love your friends even when they are not being very lovable. We've talked about how to love your brother even when he is driving you absolutely stark-raving-maniac-crazy. We've talked about what it means to love someone so much that you can't see straight or see yourself living without them. We've talked volumes about other essentials over the years--clothes, art, movies, music, chocolate, hair--the list would be enormous. We're big talkers. We like to think and work things out verbally, much to the dismay of our more inward thinking husbands. Lately, we've talked a lot about what it means to do what you really love and to do it for the One who deserves all our love and lives.

Yesterday, she and favorite son-in-law went with about a dozen people to Detroit to minister to homeless people. They didn't preach, hold a rally, or try to get people into a program. They just loaded up their cars with blankets and groceries and met the needy and poor where they were--giving them a little help, listening to those that wanted to talk, praying for those who needed hope. They showed their love for God in basic, but tangible ways.

Tonight, hubby and I sat and listened as they shared their desires and dreams of going to South Africa this summer. While not really the first step--God has been doing things on this front for a while now--it may be the next leg of the journey to making overseas mission work their life's work. God has been weaving the threads of their lives together toward this purpose from the beginning. And through a web of interconnection that only God can pull together, He has led them to not only those who can make this dream a reality, but also those who share their enthusiasm and prayerfully support them.

Trying your best to live a life of love. Showing others love in hands-on, unselfish ways. Working toward making your God-given dreams a reality. Isn't that what being a real grown up should be all about?

And at the very least, isn't that the kind of person you want to call in case of emergency?

When Death Comes

2008-04-03T16:00:00.001-04:00

When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn;
when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse

to buy me, and snaps the purse shut;
when death comes
like the measles-pox;

when death comes
like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,

I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?

And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,

and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,

and each name a comfortable music in the mouth
tending as all music does, toward silence,

and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.

When it's over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

When it is over, I don't want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.

I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.

By Mary Oliver

"Don't Look Back"

2008-03-30T16:26:00.012-04:00

"Ask me how good I used to be"

I remember it was reported that the figure skater, Scott Hamilton wore a T-shirt with this phrase on it when he was working as a commentator at a competition after he was 'past his prime' as a competitive skater (I'm unable to verify this through google, so you'll just have to trust my over 40 brain on this one!). I've quoted the phrase pretty often-I should get a t-shirt!--because it so often seems to fit. Having been pretty active trying to keep up with my husband and bro-in-law through the early years of my marriage, I got to be decent at kneeboarding and wakeboarding, snow skiing, and even did some pretty 'gnarly' mountain biking trips.

Now, when I say 'decent', I'm not talking "impress virile, adventurous young men with my amazing aerial 360's" decent. I'm talking, 'wow, you're a mom of 2 kids and you can get a foot of air when you jump the wake behind the boat' decent. (I actually was able to do 360's on the kneeboard, but if you've done any kneeboarding, you know that's not that hard). It was exciting pushing my limits, and the bros were usually pretty encouraging ("come on, don't be a wuss, it's only a black diamond run!"). In my high school years, the closest I got to being 'athletic' was being scorekeeper for the girls softball team. Yup, that pathetic. The team I had the most success with was the forensics team. As in, speech team--'prose & poetry' division. I rocked in the duet competitions. I was even asked to be on the local college team before I got married. Stop snickering. It is not becoming.

Anyway, as our kids grew up, they got to be gnarly, awesome snow skiiers/boarders and waterskiiers, even doing some mountain biking (oddly, more my daughter than my son, although he has his own great skills). I found myself falling into the "I used to be able to...." trap as my own skills were waning. Sometimes due to injuries and wrist issues, something I seem to be plagued with, and sometimes, though it pains me to admit it....due to just getting older.

As my husband says, "it's not that you can't do the same things, it's just that it takes longer to recover from doing the same things you did when you were younger". So you begin to count the cost, and somehow it's often just not worth it to be able to impress someone who already loves you anyway (your family) or someone who likes you for you (your friends AND family, if you're lucky).

(you can see here the hubby is reaaallly slowing down...)

I thought about this as I read an interview with Mick Jagger in today's Parade Magazine. He's now 65--waaaayy older than me--and has what appears to be washboard abs and great hair. His face shows a map of a lifetime of partying and rocking, but he's amazingly well preserved. He mentioned that he has to make choices now since he "can’t party as hard and go onstage the next day" and still do a good show.

How difficult for you, Mick!

I liked what he had to say about looking back though:

“My thing is, if I don’t constantly try to move forward, I’m afraid that I’ll just get lost in the welter of nostalgia. I’m not really much of a looking-back person. I mean, I don’t mind having a laugh talking about things, but I don’t really get into it. Otherwise you end up like one of these football players sitting in a bar, talking about how you made that play in the game in 1975. You don’t want to be there.”

So, don't ask me how good I used to be. I'd like to still be that person in some ways, but darn it, you can't always get what you want.

"I'm a Ranker"

2008-03-26T21:15:00.005-04:00

Recently, while discussing a particularly bad movie, my daughter relayed a comment from a friend. They had been discussing movies, and the friend promptly rattled off her top 3 (Shawshank Redemption, Jaws,....). Her friend also offered up this comment: "I'm a ranker"--someone who likes to rank things in categories. I thought this was a very odd and interesting turn of phrase. Technically, "ranker" is a word meaning "a commissioned officer who has been promoted from enlisted status". But, to use the word as she did, haven't we become a nation of "rankers"?

Pop media is all about rating and judging and categorizing things. Google "top ten" on the internet and you'll get 68,900,000 entries (Top Ten most facinating urinals was one of the first listed and amazingly, very cool!) . Try to find a newspaper or magazine at the start of the year without a "year's best" listing. The three big shows on TV tonight are American Idol (which I am watching while I type this, I must admit), Dancing With the Stars, and The Biggest Loser (which I guess at least has a quantitative element, and is not just opinion) which in a way train us to rate various qualities in others. Now, I'm not saying that we don't already have this built in to our nature anyway. I was amazed how my children at an very young age could tell you who in their class was the "prettiest" or the "smartest". If I had asked, I'm sure they also could have told me who was the "ugliest" or the "meanest."

I've heard it said that the true consequence of eating the fruit from the tree "of the knowledge of good and evil" is that we are unable to just love someone unconditionally as God does. Instead, we can't help but judge others. If you don't believe me, try to sit in a mall, watch people go by and not attach a descriptive label to them in your head. (credits to my pastor for this concept). What it boils down to is that it's easier to put people in categories than it is to get to know them. Easier to rank them than to understand where they're coming from. Easier to judge them than to help them.

Even the disciples were "rankers"! A select group had been on a mountain where they had just seen Jesus as He really was/is--transfigured and displaying His glory. It was a moment where God visibly and unequivocally showed and told them who was "numero uno". Almost the very next thing they do? Argue over "who among them was greatest"! (Text message "2" for Peter..."3" for James....) Don't you just wonder how deeply Jesus must have sighed before his reply? "He sat down and summoned the Twelve." Notice, he gathers ALL of them together. I'm thinking the ones that had been arguing about it must have felt like they were suddenly "in the bottom 3". He then said to them, "So you want first place? Then take the last place. Be the servant of all." (Mark 9:35, The Message)

In God's kingdom, ranking is turned on it's head. God doesn't say, "good job, you made the top 10 (or 10 million)", he says, "the first will be last, and the last will be first", in what Eugene Petersen calls "the Great Reversal". Later, James puts this concept into very practical terms:

"For example, suppose someone comes into your meeting dressed in fancy clothes and expensive jewelry, and another comes in who is poor and dressed in dirty clothes. If you give special attention and a good seat to the rich person, but you say to the poor one, “You can stand over there, or else sit on the floor”—well, doesn’t this discrimination show that your judgments are guided by evil motives? Listen to me, dear brothers and sisters. Hasn’t God chosen the poor in this world to be rich in faith? Aren’t they the ones who will inherit the Kingdom he promised to those who love him?" (James 2:2-5)

If the whole point is to not seek to be 'first', then don't you think there's something wrong when all we do is try to place people in first through last, most to least important categories? At the very least, aren't we training our minds to think in patterns opposite of the way we should react? Instead of of thinking, "pretty", "too tall", "overweight", "rich", or "poor", shouldn't we be thinking "lost", "hurting", or "searching for meaning"? In a way, that's still categorizing, but these are labels we can only use if we know someone, and have some degree of empathy and compassion for them. One of the results of maturity should be the ability to accept others as having worth and merit just for being God created (and loved) individuals. My desire should be to grow into "the servant of all"--regardless of how unlovely, how undeserving they may be be in my own eyes.

So the competition is on! What will you do this week to try to end up in last place?

Happy Wife, Happy Life

2008-03-25T19:57:00.002-04:00

Overheard in the office:

At a recent wedding, there was one of those dances where they dismiss couples married the shortest amount of time, and gradually longer until only a couple that had been married over 45 years remained. The mc asked the husband, "what's your secret-what advice can you give?" The man said 2 phrases: "Yes, dear." and "What else can I do for you?" When the woman was asked the same, she simply said, "He said it all!"

An Ode to Ear Piercing

2008-03-22T11:25:00.007-04:00

"You don't need another hole in your head",
Said my mother when I was a kid.
And asked- no pleaded -"can I get my ears pierced?"
In what I hoped was an irresistable bid.

Made to wait until the more responsible fourteen,
which was deemed the acceptable age ,
and though I don't even remember it now,
I know it was entrance to the current teen rage.

Young married, I remember my brother-in-law,
growing up in a home quite conservative,
coming home one day with a stud in his ear,
his parents annoyed reaction was superlative.

My young daughter next pleaded, though of needles afraid,
that "everyone had them", she'd seen!
"You have to be able to take care of them", I entoned,
And I made her wait until she was a teen.

Fast forward, and she is now married and grown,
and showed up with an extra hoop on the side,
From a tattoo shop with a needle no less
she'd been woosy, but somehow not cried.

And her husband! Our Favorite son-in-law,
had opted for both ears, which is now in,
And we rejoiced that he had stopped short with that,
and didn't go with ink under the skin.

And so here I am the latest example,
of answering a strange kind of call,
But one more piercing was the cry,
and I ran with it down at the mall.

It hurt, and still hurts, and I chose the pain,
(I can't even sleep on that side!)
But, it wasn't for cool, or trendy, or angst,
Or a mistaken type of rebellious pride.

In the end it was simply, "I thought it would be cute"
And "I'm a grown up" to husband I said!
I called my mom to admit and of course she remarked,
"Like you really needed another hole in your head!"

How I Wish I Could View My Stretch Marks...

2008-03-18T20:33:00.002-04:00

"....over the stretch marks that were like inlaid streaks of mother-of-pearl that would never fade, whose brilliance spoke only for the body's decay."

From "Unaccustomed Earth" by Jhumpa Lahira, a book I have not read and therefore am not recommending. I just like anyone that can make stretch marks sound like a gift!

Acceptance is a Bathingsuit Thing

2008-03-16T18:45:00.002-04:00

"But part of being over 40 is accepting the fact that certain doors are closing--and growing up enough to notice that other doors are open." (Kelly Corrigan, 40, author of "The Middle Place" in an interview in More magazine)

I went bathing suit shopping this weekend. This was not as completely torturous as a friend pointed out it usually is due to two things. One, I'm buying it in anticipation of a week long trip to Cancun with my husband coming up in mere weeks, and secondly, I have lost over 15 pounds since the last time I bought one. But, alas, as I told my shopping buddy, even at a smaller size there are still difficulties. No matter what the size on the tag, they each fit differently, and as you wrestle one after another over your head or up your hips, the large store security tag pokes you under the armpit and you end up doing this weird hopping dance to get your feet through the holes! There also seems to be no rhyme or reason to the size match ups for tops and bottoms, neccesitating several trips back out to the racks for a "slightly larger or smaller" bottom to go with the "just a little bigger or smaller" top. And as you know, this means re-dressing and undressing yet again. The whole thing is just exhausting! I needed a nap when I got home, and hubby was only mildly enthused about my selection. "Why didn't you get a bikini?", he asked totally straight faced.

He doesn't get that I am willing to accept that certain doors--bikinis being one--are closed to me. But I am growing up enough to know that others doors are open. And that's why I bought the new jeans. On clearance. 2 sizes smaller than last year.

Six Word Memoirs

2008-03-15T17:00:00.001-04:00

Gore Vidal, defines a memoir as "how one remembers one's own life, while an autobiography is history, requiring research, dates, facts double-checked." As Wikipedia goes on to state, "It is more about what can be gleaned from a section of one's life than about the outcome of the life as a whole."
About a year ago, the online "storytelling community" called Smith magazine, challenged their readers to write their life story in only six words. After receiving more than 15,000 entries, they put 832 into a new book called "Not Quite What I Was Planning. " After reading many of the entries, you just can't help trying to come up with your own. I came up with a few:

"Fully loved, able to love unconditionally."

"Country girl embraced city, then lake."

"Drama Queen meets Prince of Peace."

"True love found early lasts long."

My husband could borrow one from the book: "Would settle for a bad hair day."

I don't think anyone's life can really be summed up in six words, but like a snapshot, a six word memoir captures a part of your life, that though not fleshed out, can be revealing.

I also had a lot of fun writing six words for Biblical figures:

Paul: "I have fought the good fight."

Moses: "Knew the Lord face to face."

Solomon: "Gift of wisdom brought no peace."

Saul: "Impressive young man without equal, rejected."

Jezebel: "Killed the prophets, devoured by dogs."

Peter: "If all fall away, I won't."

Jacob: "Wrestled God and birthed a nation."

This was a good exercise and could even be a good tool for remembering biblical characters. So, admit it...you're doing one in your head as you read this, aren't you? Share yours!

Free Rice

2008-03-10T19:31:00.000-04:00

"They were hungry and thirsty, and their lives ebbed away." Psalm 107:5

"According to the United Nations, about 25,000 people die each day from hunger or hunger-related causes, most of them children." FreeRice.com wants to change that and improve our language skills at the same time.

According to the site, FreeRice has two goals:

#1: Provide English vocabulary to everyone for free.

#2: Help end world hunger by providing rice to hungry people for free.

How does this generate money? Through corporate sponsors, who advertise on the site.

How do you get involved? Go to the site and play the interactive vocabulary game. There is a word given, followed by 4 other words. Click on the answer that best defines the word given. If you get it right, you get a harder one. If you get it wrong, you get an easier one. For each word you get right, FreeRice will donate 20 grains of rice to the United Nations World Food Program. There is a cool graphic of rice filling up a bowl as you answer correctly, and if you answer enough of them correctly you start to get, or rather, give, little piles of rice! Myanmar, Nepal, and Cambodia are in the top 10 recepient countries that receive donations. The rice is also purchased from "developing countries, keeping the cost of reaching the hungry to a minimum and boosting farmers’ efforts to grow their own food." (quote from www.wfp.com)

How big an issue is world hunger? For those of us who might have guessed that world hunger is declining, consider the following sobering statistic from the site:

"Since the second half of the 1990s, the number of chronically hungry in developing countries has been increasing at a rate of almost four million per year.Today, one in nearly seven people do not get enough food to be healthy and lead an active life, making hunger and malnutrition the number one risk to health worldwide -- greater than AIDS, malaria and tuberculosis combined."

Is is effective? Consider that according to Wikipedia, “One month after the inception of the viral marketing program, users had earned enough points for one billion grains of rice. The United Nation's World Food Programme stated that this amount could feed 50,000 people for one day. Thus, approximately 20,000 grains of rice provide enough caloric intake to sustain an adult for one day. Using this calculation, enough rice is donated to feed 7,019.15 people daily per the totals for December 28, 2007.

Is it addictive? I'm just getting started, but a fun interactive game that improves your vocabulary and helps feed the hungry? Sounds better than doing one more "Can you name this Disney villan?" quiz on Facebook. Challenge yourself to spend a few minutes a day making a difference.

"...and if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry and satisfy the needs of the oppressed,
then your light will rise in the darkness, and your night will become like the noonday. (Isaiah 58:10 NIV)

You Might Be A Redneck If....

2008-03-08T17:21:00.005-05:00

Overheard at my hair salon:

Guy: "I had a weird dream last night."
Girl: "Really?"
Guy: "I dreamed Robert Plant died, and Jeff Foxworthy replaced him as the lead singer in Led Zepplin."
Girl: "Was he any good?"
Guy: "Actually, he could hit the high notes better than Plant!"

I swear I'm not making it up.

I Swear to Tell the Truth

2008-03-06T20:14:00.002-05:00

This entry was written by a guest blogger, my husband, Dale. He served in the Air Force in 1983 going through Officer Training in San Antonio, Texas, and Flight Training in Laughlin Air Force Base in Del Rio, TX before leaving shortly before we were married. While I've heard these stories many times (as he begins to tell one of them, I will often tease him by saying something like "story #47), he has written a few of them down with some great application at the end. Be sure to give the man some feedback!

"The US military is still one of our most conservative institutions. You see very little tolerance for personal expression when it comes to appearance while in uniform. During my time in the USAF, I did encounter one occasion though, where exercise of personal expression, and an improbable truth collided. Our morning briefing included a discussion about taking pride in personal appearance, shoe shine, hair cuts, facial hair and all those things that could diminish what the military uniform and the person wearing it represented. A few men pushed that fashion envelope at the time and entered the military with pierced ears. The message was short and simple. Ear rings, for men, while in uniform, were not appropriate. Period. Additionally, if your ears were not already pierced, now was not the time to exercise that option. While this was not presented as an order, we all had a common understanding on this issue.

As one of 2 guys in a 2 bedroom apartment the math worked out fine, but one day a friend approached us with his own housing dilemma. No local apartment openings, he didn’t want to live on base, and no room at the inn with other friends. Seeing this as a financial opportunity the two became three with the understanding that as the last guy in, he would essentially spend an entire year sleeping on a couch. A couple weeks later, in a move which now seems to reflect questionable judgment, we added two ferrets to the already cramped family.

The two little rats were friendly enough and quickly adapted to their new freedom as we frequently gave them extended time outside the cage, to roam the apartment. One day our sleeping and unsuspecting couch dweller surprised the others with a sharp yelp and a few, as Mr. Spock would say, colorful metaphors. Seems one of the ferrets climbed up on the sofa and bit him, on (drum roll please) the ear lobe. Needless to say, two of the three of us found this pretty funny. We were also quick to point out that this was clearly a flagrant violation of the no new ear piercing rule, and that at the next morning briefing, we felt compelled to share this with the other pilots on the flight line. “If you guys do that, I’ll just tell’em the truth” Chuck insisted. Met with a snickering reply of “Let us know how that works out”. The next day played out perfectly, as we quietly shared our roommate's indiscretion with the other pilots. It was fun to watch a grown man trying to explain away a freshly punctured earlobe with the line. “No really, I swear, a ferret bit me.”

I guess one of the things I took away from that day is that sometimes the truth can seem improbable but still be truth; you just have to tell it anyway. With God all things are possible and sometimes even hysterical."

The "After Bucket List"

2008-03-04T21:41:00.001-05:00

This morning I was thinking about the movie “The Bucket List”. I didn’t see the movie, but I know from the previews that a bucket list is a record of all the things you want to be sure to do before you kick the bucket. This is a cool idea, and I want to start working on mine, right after I finish reading “1,000 Places to See Before You Die”. I should probably hold off on “1,000 Ways to Decorate with Fabric” and first get a copy of “100 Ways to Motivate Yourself”. But I digress. What I was thinking about the bucket list concept is that we as Christians sometimes have an “After Bucket List". We make a list, in our heads anyway, of all the things we want to do when we get to heaven. Now, I get that our questions and desires will be surpassed by everything that we will experience with/in/through God that we can’t even begin to imagine. Even so, I don’t think God would have given us some of the biblical descriptions of heaven He does if He didn’t want us to longingly use our imagination.

Some things on my list:

Go to other places in the universe

See my grandparents, relatives, and friends who have already died

Talk to biblical saints. High on the list:
Deborah, Priscilla, Mary, Sarah, David, Daniel, Paul, Luke, John, Peter and the angels—Michael and Gabriel(note: I love the idea that I could talk to all of the above in perfect conversation for as long as we want…because the ‘not enough time’ factor just won’t be…a factor!)

Check out the "living creatures" (not trying to be sacrilegious here-I mean, come on, all those eyes?)

Ask the triune God- “Why”:
The big stuff: flood, circumcision, covenant, temple
The hard stuff: fully man/fully God, sacrifice, resurrection, suffering, pain…what were you doing during ________ in my life?

Do any of these sound like something you’ve said in your head? I bet you have an “After Bucket” list too. Please share!

Another Day, Another Pie

2008-03-01T17:40:00.006-05:00

As I was driving home from work on Friday, I heard an slightly annoying TV/radio personality saying something to the effect: "In honor of the leap day, more people should take advantage of February 29, as it provides an extra 24 hours in the calendar to catch up on miscellaneous errands." An extra 24 hours! Having been sick with a stomach bug for about 36 hours during the week (thus the lack of blog entries!), the thought struck me as a good one.

Except...the day had already passed. I had hurried off to work, completed my regular end of the week tasks, had several nice exchanges with visitors to the office (Friday seems to be 'drop by and say hello day' at our church), and then left a little early to make it to a physical therapy appointment for my current malady--tennis elbow (another reason for the lack of recent entries). It didn't feel "extra". It didn't feel special. As a matter of fact, due to a lingering "punky" feeling physically, and feeling emotionally let down by a couple of people, it felt pretty lousy. Even the good things seemed to backfire. Physical therapy felt great, but seemed to trigger every sore nerve in my arm making sleep nearly impossible. So as a far as "Leap day" goes, I am in agreement with my hubby who says "why don't they add the day to June?"

Now fortunately, there were bright spots to the evening. My hubby, sensing my mood (maybe it was the long litany of complaints on the phone?) brought me flowers. And a pie! Ok, the pie was more for him, but since I have a sweet tooth I inherited from my grandfather, it didn't hurt. We went out to a nice dinner at Pizza Coco. We also watched our DVR'ed episode of Lost, where I actually caught a reference by the character "C. (Charlotte) S. Lewis" that time moves slower on the island than in the real world--a blatant reference to Narnia, I think (for way deeper connections check here).

Yet despite the nice evening, as I weigh my feelings about the whole day, if given the choice I'd probably be willing to give the day back. In reality, it was an extra day. It was really added to the calendar and consisted of an extra 24 hours. But I had treated it like any other day. I didn't see it as a gift. I didn't even use the time to"catch up on miscellaneous errands" as pitifully insignificant as that would have been.

At around 1 am, the start of a new day technically, I tried to chase sleep by catching up on the daily scripture readings from last week's sermon. They included this verse:

"Be very careful, then, how you live—not as unwise but as wise, making the most of every opportunity, because the days are evil. Therefore do not be foolish, but understand what the Lord's will is. " (Eph. 5:15-17)

The Message puts the first part of verse 17, "Don't live carelessly, unthinkingly."

What if I had remembered that morning that it was an "extra" day? If I had treated it not like a "Hallmark holiday", but like a special day that really mattered? Shouldn't I live every day that way? Each 24 hours here on earth may only be a moment in eternity, but it's up to me "make the most of every opportunity" .... to show love, to give encouragement, and to give thanks for each day. I don't need to wait another 4 years to start doing that.

Quote of the weekend

2008-03-01T17:38:00.002-05:00

"If I had asked people what they wanted, they would have said faster horses." ~Henry Ford

Island Living

2008-02-25T21:38:00.004-05:00

"All of my books are about achieving the isolation that our culture tells us should make us happy. Someone has gotten onto an island or into a high-rise condo and is completely cut off from all 'the jerks' in the world. That's supposed to make them happy, but they are more miserable than they ever were."
Chuck Palahniuk, author. From an interview in Relevant Magazine, Sept. 2004

I think this is a great illustration of much of the church in America in recent history. We somehow thought that isolating ourselves from culture and people that aren't like us and that we frankly, just consider 'the jerks' in the world, would make us not only happier, but holier.

Now, it's easy for me to lob that insult at other Christians, especially 'older' ones (because, of course, we younger ones are all missional and authentic and all that, you know). It's harder to admit that too often the isolating myself in my little happy Jesus box is my own "modus operandi". When given the choice of hanging out with friends that laugh at my jokes, other believers that understand my "Christianese", and acquaintances that willingly make polite conversation OR talking to people who don't agree with, get, or even like my humor, lingo, and beliefs, the obvious choice is the one I mostly choose.

The thing is--always interacting with like-minded souls gets pretty boring. It's like discussing a movie that you've all seen a few times. You can only go "remember the part where he..." and "wasn't it cool how she..." so many times and then the only way to go on is to overanalyze it and interpret it with your own cool, new spin. "I thought that was symbolic of..." or "I think the deeper meaning of that part is..." You could keep trying to one-up each other with your great new insights on it, but then it kind of becomes all about you--all about your thoughts on it, your opinions and interpretations of it--and none of it is real life.

Chuck Palahniuk goes on to say about his miserable characters, "So they create circumstances-whether or not they are aware of it-which force them on a quest to reconnect with people." A quest to reconnect with people is a great way to describe the gospel. We create circumstances, whether or not we are aware of it, when we stop looking at other people as "the jerks" and instead treat them as people that God created and deems worthy of care. I can strike up a conversation with that waiter that I see all the time. I can take time to listen to my neighbors and invite them into my life and world. I can ask that co-worker how his weekend trip went. And in doing so, I begin the quest for reconnection. Eventually, maybe, they will like me, get my humor, and even understand the lingo. Or maybe they won't. But it will be real life. So you can sit on your island or stay in your high-rise condo. I think going on a quest sounds a lot more exciting.

Real Grown Ups: stories of people that are well on their way to being "mature"

2008-02-22T08:30:00.001-05:00

This is the story of a bachelor. Not a long time bachelor, but a man who was married for 40 years to a wonderful woman, and had been adjusting to life alone for 2 years. Retired, with grown children and grandchildren, he had long served as front door greeter at his local church, always the first one to offer a good morning and a handshake to regulars and visitors. He had served in leadership there as well, offering sound counsel in the middle of many trials. People knew he was in the building when they heard his familiar whistle. (people don't whistle enough anymore!)

Then one day the bachelor fell in love and became a groom again. He met a woman who is beautiful inside as well as outside. A missionary, supported by his church, living in Spain, she had been a widow much longer--for 13 years. They married and since she was not quite ready to retire from her mission work, he began a transcontinental commute. To Spain to be with his wife for a month, then back to the states to see his children and grandchildren for a month. Difficult, but when you start mixing your lives together late in the game, there is a lot more to accomodate. Young newlyweds have the advantage of starting with an almost blank slate, intertwining every part of their lives from before they even say "I do". Older newlyweds have entanglements on every front that have to be unwound more slowly and then carefully woven together.

The bachelor, become the husband, is now 75. When he was newly married, he asked a computer techie friend to look up the words to an old love song so he could sing it to his bride over the phone, something he still does after 4 years that still results in giggles on the other end of the line. He has become involved in her ministry and has tried with no measurable success to learn Spanish. For now, they still commute and he is still there at the door each week when they are in the U.S.

Recently, while waiting for a flight to Spain, he was approached by an airline representative. The flight was overbooked, and they offered him $900, a stay at an airport motel, and his supper if he would wait until the morning to fly out. He didn't consult her. He didn't think about what they could do with the money. He said, "No". He wanted to be with his bride. He says simply, "I'm a romantic", and leaves whistling an old love song that we all should hear.

Open Hands

2008-02-20T19:41:00.000-05:00

It's been a week of emotional and spiritual highs and lows. One of fighting giving in to my feelings versus holding on to my faith. And it's only Wednesday.

This quote is helping me...

"Living a life of faith means never knowing where you are being led, but it does know loving and knowing the one who is leading. It is literally a life of faith, not of understanding and reason--a life of knowing him who calls us to go." (Oswald Chambers)

Trying to stand with open hands, palms up, eyes closed--trusting.

The Skinny on My Mocha

2008-02-18T18:51:00.004-05:00

According to a recent article in More Magazine (subtitle: "smart talk for smart women"), coffee may help women stay sharp. Researchers in France, who I'm sure were drinking those tiny little espressos, smoking and eating cheese, studied the effect of caffeine on 7,000 men and women. Running tests over the course of 4 years, they found that the women who drank the most caffeine (the equivalent to 3 cups or 300 milligrams a day), were better at remembering words and "less likely to lose their nonverbal memory than those who drank less caffeine." They think it has something to do with how the caffeine interacts with "estrogen receptors in the brain". To which I thought, "aaahh, I have estrogen receptors in my brain interacting with a stimulating substance! Great!" Researchers also found that it didn't have any effect on men's cognitive abilities. Bummer for them, although I'm encouraged that it doesn't stimulate testosterone receptors in their brains. Although that would explain the popularity of Starbucks.

My son started working at Starbucks a few months ago, so all this is great news for me. An avowed tea drinker for years (which is NOT the same as being a "teetotaler"), I started drinking coffee only a few years ago when I started working full time. It started with Mochas, which we all know are a gateway drug, and has progressed to Sulawesi Bold (still with non-fat cream & sugar, please). I think it was just a coincidence that my growing fondness for coffee and my new everyday-going-to-work-outside-the-home schedule coincided, but it was a great convergence. And now that we get a free pound of coffee every week, which is more than we drink in...I don't know--I haven't really figured out the timeline yet--but several weeks, I can indulge for significantly less moola. So, bring on the cognitive skills tests! Quiz me on what states Obama won! Ask me the name of that person I met last week! Just don't expect me to drink it black-I don't want to overstimulate my estrogen receptors, you know.