America Resolved

I am fond of New Year's resolutions. I feel that we all have a thing or two we could resolve to do better. I am so fond of resolutions that I often assign resolutions to others. I once asked a friend if she would honor my resolution for her before I told her what the resolution was. She said, "Yes." I said, "Okay. Resolve to work on your marriage." She said, "Grrrrrr." But she did and that was a good thing. I have been thinking that there are few things that our country can improve on. So America, listen up. This is your short list (long list to follow).
1. Resolve to give the children back their childhood. Turn off the electronics and send the kids outside to play. Someone said to me once, "Young kids need to learn how to use electronics so they don't fall behind." I asked, "Fall behind what?" I learned how to use a computer when I was in my twenties and believe it or not, even at that old age, I took to it pretty quickly. I have never thought at the end of a day, "I wish I had spent more time on my computer." However, many times I have thought, "I wish I had gotten outside more."
2. Resolve to censorship. Yes, folks, zip the lip. I am actually censoring myself right now. Censor all unholy language, images, thoughts, music and activities. Train yourself to restrain yourself.
3. Resolve to practice kindness. I'm not talking "random acts of kindness," I'm talking purposeful acts of kindness. Think to yourself, "What kind thing can I do for someone on purpose today?"
4. Resolve to be a good citizen. Wake up America! Why should God Bless America if we're not being good citizens?
And finally, an alliteration,
5. Resolve to practice prayer, patience and peace. Praying for others teaches us to be tender hearted, grateful and humble. Patience teaches us to be. . . well, patient for those we pray for. And peace flows from prayer and patience which makes practicing peace a good practice.

Happy New Year!

Family's Gift OR Where Are The Caches?

Geocaching (pronounced geo-cashing) is finding treasures (or caches) hidden outdoors by using a GPS device. The caches are hidden in public places outdoors and then their location is published on the Internet. You plug in the location on your GPS and then your treasure hunting begins. Some caches are camouflaged, some hung in trees, some buried in brush, some hidden in logs. So far we have found 3 caches. After you find the cache, you write your name and the date on the log in the cache container and if there is a treasure, you may take it, providing you leave behind another treasure in it's place for the next seekers to find. And, NO, you may not leave one of your children behind as a treasure for someone else to find, tempting as that may sound, it just wouldn't be right! . . . right . . .?

Our Gift OR Where Are The Tissues?

Need I say anything more?

Husband's Gift OR Where Are The Bandaids?

Can you guess what I got my husband for Christmas??

Below is a clue. . .

Need I say anything more?

MERRY CHRISTMAS ALL!!

Cat Adoptions? Part III

My daughter asked me once, "Mom, how do you go from talking about peppers to telling people about Jesus?" I laughed because I'm not a good witness. I say stupid things that I wish I hadn't. I think of all the clever things I should have said as I watch the person walk away. I'm not that witty on the spot. But, at a predestined meeting, I was convinced, I would be a fabulous witness! It's just that it is so rare that we have a foreknowledge of being able to share Jesus with someone. After my first conversation with Debbie I knew I wanted to share the good news of Jesus with her. I told my husband and my children, "I just want to share Jesus with her!" I told Debbie over the phone, "I have the perfect cat for you and I can't wait to meet you." She said, "I'm not sure about the cat." I said, "It's okay," but I was thinking, "Who cares about the cat!" I met Debbie at the shelter and she said, "I don't think I'm going to like this cat." I said, "That's fine, but let's go meet her." I had my Jesus speech ready and rehearsed. I introduced Debbie to Buffy and there was an instant, mutual love. From that moment on I may as well have disappeared because to Debbie, only Buffy existed. I managed to say, while I was leaving, that I believed God intended for her, Buffy and I to meet. If she heard me at all I wouldn't know because she said nothing, not even good-bye. Do you think the story will end here?

Cat Adoptions? Part II

. . . the phone rang, it was Debbie. She answered an ad I had placed and was interested in adopting a cat. The local animal shelter has a wealthy benefactor who is paying folks to adopt out "hard to place" cats. Ironically, we just tried to foster a "hard to place" 15 year old boy, but that went terrifically bad. Maybe I thought I would have better results with cats. I placed a clever, quirky ad and I wasn't at all surprised when I received my first call. I was, however, still surprised over my involvement in this project. Yes, there is a financial gain for me, and yes, I love the thought of finding loving homes for hard to place cats, and yes, I love a challenge, but my life is busy and complicated and full - who needs one more thing to do? My first call with Debbie went just about as you would expect. I answered all her questions and I asked a few of my own. She said she would think about it and call me back. And call me back she did . . . 5 times! Each time I spoke to her she revealed a little more about herself and her life. Each time I spoke to her I cared less about the cat and the fee I would get and more about her. My husband said, "Congratulations, it looks like you'll adopt your first cat!" I said, "I don't care if she takes a cat or not, I just want to tell her about Jesus." And there it was . . . the purpose I had been wondering about. Isn't it just like God to use one lonely lady, one stray cat and one unsuspecting soul to work out His purpose? . . . to be continued . . .

Cat Adoptions? Part I

Since I have a history helping cats it was no big surprise for the shelter or some of my old friends to hear I am adopting out shelter cats. But it was a surprise for me. I see myself as more of a people person and not an animal person. My husband and I fostered kittens for over a year when we first moved into our house 24 years ago. The room that is now my 21 year old daughter's room used to be the kitten room. We would take in kittens while they were waiting to be adopted and care for them. The reason we (I) agreed to do it was because the very first two ladies who befriended me when we moved here were animal people and I loved them (I still do). It was their cause and I wanted to support my new friends in their life's work. Not having any causes of my own at that moment and being new to the area and having a new husband who readily agreed to whatever his kooky wife wanted, we gladly took in stray kittens and took care of them. I love all my animal people friends because without them the world would be a very sad place. Ever since we stopped fostering kittens we have spent the rest of the 24 years in our house ministering to people. So, it was kind of a surprise that I agreed to adopt out shelter cats, until, that is, the phone rang... to be continued...

Purrfect!

I have just agreed to help adopt out cats from a local no-kill shelter. I don't personally fully agree with no-kill shelters in all cases. There are some cats that have been in this shelter since 2004. Sadly, they will likely still be there in 2014. Is this humane? I don't know. However, if I can help adopt out some of these cats by the end of this year, I will feel like I have done some good. I went to a meeting to get the details of how I could help. A local pet supply store has agreed to let us bring some cats there. We can set up 6 cages there for 4 hours a day, Friday through Sunday, for the next 3 weeks. Someone was concerned about bad weather and asked what we should plan to do in case of rain or snow. The person organizing the adoption said, "Oh, that wouldn't be humane to be outside for that long!" To which I responded with a hearty, "Thank you!" To which she responded in a slightly haughty manner, "I meant, (long pause) it wouldn't be humane for the cats!" To which I responded, "Heck, they're the ones with the fur!" In spite of that, I am scheduled to work tomorrow and Saturday. Which is purrfectly alright with me.

My New Curling Iron

I just had to post this. I bought a new curling iron, a vain but necessary purchase for us gals with thin hair. I read the WARNINGS listed under IMPORTANT SAFETY INSTRUCTIONS and thought I'd share some of them with you. Just in case you don't read the warning labels, I wouldn't want any of you to risk electrocution or injury by using a curling iron in the wrong way.

First it states that most electrical appliances are electrically live.
DO NOT use while bathing.
Never use while sleeping.
DO NOT let eyes touch heated surfaces.
And, finally,
Never drop or insert any object into any opening.

There you have it. I hope you were as amused as I was : )

My Favorite Things - Part III

. . . I have to admit that when I started writing My Favorite Things, I didn't know where it would end. It's like that with most things I write about. I start with an idea or in this case, an irritation, and then I quickly type out my thoughts. I pause, pray for words and do a quick re-write. If it is entertaining or meaningful in any way, it's because God heard and answered my prayers. I prayed about what my favorite things really, truly were. I came up with some very poetic things to say but realized I was trying so hard to be poetic and deep that I wasn't being quite authentic. When it came right down to it, my favorite things surprised me. And even a bigger surprise to me was that I wasn't lying when I claimed to not love possessions. My favorite thing ever . . . much to my own surprise . . . is to . . . travel with my family. Yes, Miss Travel Anxiety USA has at the top of her list, travel. Yellowstone, San Francisco, Pacifica, Monteray, Great Falls, WallaWalla, West Palm Beach, Laguna and Mt. Rushmore are the top things that I carry around in my heart as my favorite things. As I say each city I can picture in my minds eye, me and my family in that city, laughing, pointing, sitting, eating . . . living life in abundance . . . enjoying the mountains or ocean, the sunrise or the sunset, the desert or the forest. Life is indeed good. If you bothered to count, you'd see I named only 9 cities. I reserved the last thing on my list of 10 favorite things as a new purple dress. I love that dress, but even more, I love the ladies who loved me enough to tell me I needed a new dress and then took me shopping to find one. Thanks gals.

My Favorite Things - Part II

. . . My favorite things are things that I hold in my heart, not my hands. Some of them are just feelings from memories of special events. Where do we hold our feelings? Science tells us we hold them in our brains, but I feel them in my heart, in the deepest part of me that cannot be touched by hands. In a spot that I can't pin point, but I know is there. It's a spot that Oprah cannot satisfy with iPads or expensive croissants. My favorite things are certainly things that glitter and shine, but in a way that fill my insides with warmth and love and joy. In all fairness to Oprah, her show was about her favorite material things and I do have some favorite material things, but would they make an audience full of people cry? I don't think so. Would a bunch of people cry over a blurry photo or an antique clock or a children's story book? I feel sad for the cheap thrill Oprah's show gave. I say cheap, not as in inexpensive, but as in no lasting value. I guess that's the part the bothered me the most. It was how thrilled everyone was over the material things that Oprah gave them. We are suppose to be gracious when we receive a gift, but to jump up and down and cry over a computer? How long do you think that thrill will last? An hour? A week? For the rest of my life I will remember my 42nd birthday at Yellowstone National Park along the trail that leads to the Upper Falls. I will always think of it when I smell pine. And, if I let myself, I will cry for the joy of the memory. That's one of my favorite things. My favorite other things are . . . to be continued . . .

My Favorite Things - Part I

I sat down today at 4:00 to rest my back and I turned on the television. Oprah was doing her "Oprah's Favorite Things" show. I have to say, it made me feel a little bit sick inside when I saw the audience crying over an iPad touch computer, glitter Ugg boots and a Coach purse. I don't begrudge anyone of having favorite things, but an emotional attachment to a computer that would bring on tears? I don't know . . . it made me feel sick. I cried when my husband gave me a diamond tennis bracelet for our 25th wedding anniversary. And yes, I do love that thing. But I have an emotional attachment to it because my husband of 25 years gave it to me. If Oprah gave it to me, it would just be metal and stones. And honestly, as much as I love that bracelet, it wouldn't make the top 10 list of my favorite things. But it would certainly make the top 10 list of the most expensive things I own. What value would a diamond bracelet be to me if I didn't have the husband who gave it to me? Things are worthless. To quote The Little Prince, “It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.” And to quote Jesus, "Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal; but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also." The things I love the most, my favorite things, you just can't put into a package and tie a bow around . . . to be continued . . .

The Photo Contest

I entered this photo in a local photo contest. It's my "Look Who's Eating My Parsley" photo. The contest is a small contest and the amateur division has a 1st Place, 2nd Place, 3rd Place and 2 Honorable Mention Prizes. With five winning spots I thought I had a chance, maybe an honorable mention. I had such positive feedback from my friends - but not my kids. They said, "Ewwww, Mom, it's gross." Did I heed their words? No. I only heard what my itching ears wanted to hear. So, I submitted my photo with confidence.

This photo, "Peaceful Autumn Path" was submitted by son in the student division. It's the fourth year he's submitted a photo for this contest. The first and second year he won 1st Place. The third year, 2nd Place and this year . . . he won 3rd Place. There is a cash award for each place. When the phone call came in, I anxiously waited to hear how my photo fared. She said, "Your son has won 3rd Place this year. It's always a pleasure to see his work. He has a great talent . . . blah, blah, blah . . . we'll send his prize voucher out today." What about me and my caterpillar photo? I looked up the winners on the website. No mention, not even honorable, of me or my photo. Boohoo. When the local paper came out and the contest winners were named I unenthusiastically looked for my son's name. Much to my surprise, while scanning the article I saw my name! Not only did I not win the contest (not even an honorable mention) but my name was listed in the paper among "other participants." In other words, losers. No honorable mention for me . . . just LOSER!

Happy 21st Birthday First Born

My daughter came home last weekend and saw the boy across the street who she used to babysit for and who is now in the 4th grade. She turned to me and said, "Wow, look how big he is. I'm OLD!" Sheesh! She's old?! Imagine how I feel when I see her? I remember the day I found out I was pregnant with her. In those days, you went to the doctor to get such news (on a horse and buggy). I remember exactly how I told my husband, her father; it was one of the happiest days of our lives. I remember the first time I felt her move inside of me. I remember falling in love with her. I remember her first breath, her first cry, her first tooth, her first steps, her first birthday, her first word (it was "Boz", our cat. By the way, don't most kids say Ma or Da first?), her first lie (I told her if she was lying her tongue would turn blue. She ran to the mirror and looked at her tongue and said, "It doesn't work, my tongue's not blue!" I told her only mother's could see and she said, "If you're lying Mommy, will your tongue turn blue?" I knew then I was in trouble.), her first day of school, her first day of summer vacation, her first friend, her first art contest (First Prize - yippee) and so on. So, it's only natural that I want to be the first to wish her a happy twenty-first birthday. Happy Birthday Honey! I love you, I have loved you the longest because you are my first born.

"For you shall go out with joy,

And be led out with peace;

The Mountains and the hills

Shall break forth into singing before you,

And all the trees of the field shall

clap their hands." Isaiah 55:12

Trolls

When my kids were little I made sure that they were exposed only to the nicest things. Good books, good toys, good movies and good people. Stories about puppies and ponies abounded. I never cursed and never let anyone around them curse. I screened everything that came into their little worlds and made sure that only the best entered their spheres. We watched Mary Poppins and Richard Scary. We sang Lullabies and Christmas songs. So imagine my surprise when my children asked me why people beep their horns when they go through tunnels and I responded in a feign scared voice, "It's to scare away the trolls." "W-w-what are trolls?" asked they. And again, much to my surprise, I said, "They are little mean creatures with runny eyes and boogers hanging from their noses. They drool and try to make you pay a toll when you go through the tunnel. If you don't pay the toll they don't let you go. That's why everyone beeps their horns, they hope to scare away the trolls. Should I beep my horn?" "B-B-BEEP MOMMY, BEEP YOUR HORN! HURRY!" they stammered and yelled. I don't know why, but when I think about it I don't even feel a little bad. In fact, it makes me laugh. :-D
Does that make me mean?

A Time Gone By

With the passing of Barbara Billingsley, more famously known as June Cleaver, I feel like a precious gift has passed too. A time has gone by. A time when mothers were usually found in the kitchen chopping vegetables or baking a cake and whipping up icing. A time when women wore dresses and fussed over the pillows on the window seat. A time when breakfast was eaten together at a reasonable time in the kitchen and dinner was eaten together while dad departed pearls of wisdom on his children at the dining room table. A time when gossip was frowned upon, lying was punished, promiscuity was discouraged and cheating was offensive. A time when romance happened slowly over many dates. A time when little boys played in trees and parks and dirt and mud and little girls played with dolls and swings and bicycles. A time when church was the focus of the week and the Sunday School lesson was talked about in school. A time when American heroes were the highlight of the evening news. A time when the television went to test patterns after the late show and New York City slept. I find myself longing for that time gone by. Wishing for a slower pace and a peace of mind that comes from having a house in order and a family that is close by and connected. Progress . . .

Triple Blessing OR Beauty Is In The Eye Of The Beholder

Sometimes we lament over the troubles of our life and we forget to count our blessings. Sometimes we have to gently remind each other to count our blessings. Sometimes we have to force each other to stand up and proclaim those blessings. I have to confess, I love that last one. Not because I'm bossy or anything (lest you get the wrong idea about me), it's just because I love helping others realize how truly blessed they are. It's wonderful when I see someone proclaiming the good things God has put in their life. It makes me feel good when the people I love feel happy. It's a double blessing when I am a vehicle to making them feel good. Last week I had the joy of forcing my husband to stand up and proclaim his blessings. Not that he is a grumpy guy or anything (lest you get the wrong idea about him), but because we have a lot of "stuff" going on. So, in his proclamation of his blessings, he made the following statement, ". . and I have a beautiful wife who loves me. . ." "Awwww," I thought, "I must remember he said that when I count my blessings." Which were triple that day; #1 - I had the blessing of seeing the man I love be happy over his blessings, #2 - I was a vehicle to his happiness and #3 - (a very fortunate blessing for me) beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

Definition Of Beauty

Do you know why women in the 21st century don't age gracefully? It's because we don't know what that looks like. Everywhere we turn society is telling us to: fade the age spots, lift the eyes, fill in the wrinkles, color the grey, tuck the tummy, firm the body, plump the lips, nip the neck, and for goodness sake, whiten your teeth. If you can't be young, at least look young, act young, pretend you're young. We spend so much time chasing after youth that we miss the beauty of gracefully aging. "The silver-haired head is a crown of glory. . . And the splendor of old men is their grey head." (Proverbs 16:13 and 20:29) We used to associate age with wisdom and respect, but not anymore. The constant message in our culture is to be young and beautiful, as if one is dependent on the other. When did beauty get so tied up with youth? The most beautiful woman I have ever known was my grandmother. She was not tall, slender, blond or young. But she was witty, wise and warm. When I think of her I smile. Gramma would not fit into society's definition of beauty - but beautiful she was. She shined with it. Gramma never rubbed beauty serum on her skin or colored her hair, but everybody wanted to be near her. That's what real beauty is, drawing people to yourself because of who you are, not what you look like. Because of Gramma I know what real beauty is. It's not something you can get in a bottle at the drug store, it's something you age gracefully in to by accepting the passing of time with love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control (Gal 5:22). It's who my grandmother was and who I strive to be.

Rant

If we lived in a world where love ranked higher than revenge, where kind words flowed off our lips as easily as sexual innuendo, where good deeds overshadowed hate crimes, where love making was behind closed doors with married folks and not broad casted, where society protects and (yes, I will say it, that dirty word), SHELTERED the eyes and ears of little ones . . . if we lived in a world like that, then maybe (and it's a big maybe), I could see a place for Facebook. However, our world is not one of humility or discernment or modesty. Don't be mad at me if you are one of the few folks who uses Facebook in positive way, I know you exist. I will, however, say that the benefits (what benefits) of having Facebook DO NOT out weight the risks. What risks? Seeing and reading some of the most vile and negative pictures and statements. Wasting time trying to figure out what initials mean only to find out it's vulgar. Having advertisements flashing their lies (sins) at you. Spending hours, yes folks hours, a day updating your Facebook page, but then saying you don't have time to volunteer. I wondered if anyone was watching the kids, only to realize that someone needs to be watching the adults. Facebook is one drug that has too many negative side effects, it should be taken off the market.

Secret #2 - Puppies and Ponies

My kids were young when the Nightmare On Elm Street series came out. It was appropriately named because when I saw a commercial for it, I had nightmares. My kid's friends were watching it. Naturally, my kids asked if they could watch it too. We said, "No." "But," they'd whine, "whyyyyyyyyyya?" "Because," we'd tell them, "when you go to sleep we don't want you to have nightmarish thoughts in your head. We want you to have thoughts of puppies and ponies. We want good and happy things dancing in your brain; Godly things; things that are true, noble, just, pure and lovely; things that are excellent and worthy of praise." (Phil. 4:8) We provided them with an assortment of stories and movies and puzzles and games about puppies and ponies (and whales). We sat with our children for hours on end reading and watching and playing. That's when we discovered the secret. It was a double blessing for my husband and I as we had hours of time with our children and when we went to bed, satisfied with the events of the day, we dreamed of puppies and ponies, too. And because we always try to practice what we teach, we watched and read and played things that were all of good report. The secret is that we have a choice of what we think on. Garbage in, garbage out or graciousness in, graciousness out? Puppies and ponies or porn and poop? You decide.

Secret #1

About 25 years ago, my husband and I were invited to a black tie affair. We really didn't want to go, but it was one of those things that we knew we should do. So, we got ourselves dressed and off we went. While we were there, we saw an older man who was dressed in his black tuxedo. He was standing in the crowd with his arms folded across his chest in a rather defiant pose. His hair was a thick, wavy, grey mess all over his head. It was quite a comical sight. My husband and I saw him at the same moment. I leaned in and whispered to my husband, "I'll go to this stuffy party, but I won't comb my hair!" We laughed and enjoyed ourselves the rest of the night. We learned a lesson that night. In this life there are things that we have to do, things we should do and things we can simple say no thanks to. The secret to finding peace and joy is figuring out which situation fits into which category and then accepting it gracefully. So when we have to or should do something that we don't want to do we look at each other and say, in a resigned manner, "I'll go . . . but I won't comb my hair!" It reminds us how we did, indeed, enjoy that black tie affair all those many years ago and that being defiant would only rob us of our peace and joy. So, we get dressed, we comb our hair, we do what we have to do and sometimes we even forget that we didn't want to go.

Look who's eating my parsley!

Don't Be Hating Eve

It's hard to imagine the perfect life that Adam and Eve enjoyed in the Garden of Eden before Eve ate from the tree of knowledge of good and evil. Imagine. All the fresh fruits and vegetables that hung on the most beautiful of trees. The rivers were full of gold and onyx and the mountains rich in beauty. A mist went up from the earth and watered the whole face of the ground. What joy to the senses - seeing God's creation, smelling natural herbs and flowers, touching unpolluted water, hearing God's Holy voice, and tasting the sweetness of pure foods. Seriously, what more could Eve have wanted? Does it make you so mad that Eve messed all that up? How long do you think it took? How long before the serpent tempted Eve? How long before Eve caved in and ate what she knew from God, her Creator, that she should not? Oh, Eve, how could you? You really blew it! But before you get too mad at Eve, we really don't know if it was a few hours, a few days, a few years, a few decades . . . the Bible doesn't say. I'd like to believe that if God gave me all that He gave Eve, I'd be content to follow His commands forever. However, I am just like Eve, always wanting more blessings, with my eyes bigger than my stomach. Maybe Eve was just having a bad day . . . you know, off her game . . . feeling a little insecure in her humanness. Maybe we're all a little like that, so don't be hating Eve.

My New Sewing Room

I am a terrible liar. I laugh when I lie. And I usually laugh when someone accuses me of lying, which of course, only makes me look guilty. My kids know that my "tell" is laughing. We have a friend who repeatedly nibbles at his lower lip when he lies, it's his "tell". He just doesn't try to lie to us anymore, which of course, is a good thing. It is surprising when I can prank one of my kids, because I usually start laughing the second they come into the room. They say, "What are you up to?" Which only makes me laugh harder. It's pathetic really. So, when I told my middle daughter who is going away to college (boohoo - all the way to Florida) that I was turning her room into a sewing room and I didn't even crack a smile, she believed me. She was very insulted that I already had plans for her room before she was even out the door. But I immediately felt bad that she felt bad so I confessed it was a joke and I started to laugh. She didn't believe me that it was a joke. You see, I didn't laugh when I lied, which I usually do, and then I did laugh when I told her the truth, which I don't usually do, so she thinks I'm turning her room into a sewing room when she leaves. Every time I tell her I'm not going to, I laugh, which makes me look guilty. . . I don't know why I laugh, I can't help it. Maybe I'm lying to myself and I really am going to turn her room into a sewing room . . . hahahaha . . . just . . . hahaha . . . kidding . . . hahaha . . . honey. . . hahahaha . . .

What Did You Learn In Kindergarten?

I have heard folks saying, "all I really needed to know I learned in kindergarten." Well, I have to say I disagree. In kindergarten I ate like a slob, I hated napping, I hit others when I didn't get my way, I made messes that I left for others to clean up, I didn't listen, I lied, I picked my nose and I forgot my address. In fact, my report card from kindergarten states that I knew my name and address the first semester, but not the second semester. Obviously, I needed to learn beyond kindergarten. And beyond that, I needed to learn some important stuff that you just don't learn in school. Did you know that when you throw a party for 65 people it's the coffee and cake that matters more than the dinner food? Did you know that honoring the "guest of honor" with an embarrassing but heart-felt poem is more touching a gift than a jewel? Did you know that greeting your guests with sincere enjoyment is better than sounding trumpets to announce them? Did you know that love is the most important ingredient in party preparation? Do you know where I learned all this from? Not from my teachers, not from my friends, not from Emily Post . . . I learned from watching my mother. Thanks Mom, I hope you enjoyed the party even though that monster moth seemed to love you as much as I do . . .

Mary, Mary Quite Contrary

Mary, Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow? With Monster sunflowers!! I never understood why Mary was so contrary. Her garden grew well. She had someone care enough about her to ask her how her garden grew. She even had silver bells. What more did Mary need? Sheesh! My garden, as you can see, is growing quite well. My daughter is about 5 and 1/2 feet tall and the sunflowers tower over her. My watermelons are quite delicious and I have more tomatoes than I can handle. The green beans must be close cousins to Jack's magic beans because they are also giant. All these, plus some pepper plants, were planted in our community garden plot. Through the hard work of a very dedicated and loving family, a community is growing together. Literally. Naturally, we have the best plot, not because our garden is better than anyone else's (actually far from it), just because we are right next to the water spigot. Location, location, location. I have been tricking my kids all summer. I say, "Will you come with me to the store, I'll get you a milkshake on the way home?" They say, "Okay." And when they are belted in and we are driving down the street, I say, "Oh, I have to stop at the garden first." (hee-hee) Sometimes they are quite contrary. . .

Not Funny

My kids have been retelling a story that I personally don't think is funny. However, since they are getting a kick out if I thought I would tell here. My kids were 8, 10 and 12 at the time. They all played sports, the girls were taking piano lessons, they all had play-dates. We went on homeschool trips, to the library, to Girls Scouts and Boys Club. We delivered Meals on Wheels and did a mother-daughter book club. Needless to say, we were in my car a lot. We carried many supplies in the car; soccer cleats and baseball equipment, chairs and blankets, crayons and pads, snacks and juice boxes, cassettes of children's music and CD's of Ella Fitzgerald, bug spray and sunscreen, Tylenol and Benadryl, inhalers and Epi-pens, tissues and sanitizer, etc. etc. etc. For all the driving around I did and all the packing and unpacking the car I did, all I ever asked the kids to do was pick up the garbage before they got out and ran into the house. Sheesh, you have thought I was asking them to detail the car with a toothbrush. This particular day I asked, sweetly, "Children, would you please pick up any garbage in your space and please throw it out for me?" This is how they responded, "It's not my mess," and "I didn't do it," and "That's not fair!" I had had it! I turned to them and yelled, "I don't care if little green martians came down from Mars and crapped in the car, YOU'RE CLEANING IT UP!" Now, is that so funny??

The Library Card

When the kids were little, going to the library was a big deal. We went every week. We were able to take out 10 books per library card. Using my card and my husband's card we were able to take out 20 books at a time. The kids LOVED getting books. In fact, they couldn't wait until they got their own card to take books out. I mean that literally, my oldest hid a book under her winter coat when she was 5. I noticed it when I tried to belt her in. I told my kids, "When you can write your name, without my help, on a straight line, you may get your own library card." My first born has 9 letters in her first name. She was 5 and a half when she got her card. My second born only has 7 letters in her first name. She was 5 and a half when she got her card. My son, he didn't care so much. He only has 5 letters in his name. He was 6 and a half when he got his card. Our library is a small town library and very frugal. Library cards are only replaced if they are lost, and then for fee . . . after interrogation. I'm not saying the Librarian is scary, just that my kids never lost their cards. My middle daughter is now 18 and went to take a college level test to be tested out of Natural Science so she can take Physics in college. When she arrived at testing they asked her for 2 forms of identification. All she had, other than her drivers license, was her library card that she signed almost 13 years ago. The card was graciously accepted and she passed the test and that is my story about The Library Card.

A New York Minute, Part III

. . . Just like in one of those artsy filming scenes, time seemed to freeze for a second for me. Everyone else was buzzing to and fro and I was stuck in the moment, truly present for the first time that day. I stopped my husband and daughter,"I'll be right back," I told them. I walked up to the homeless man and said, "I can't give you any money, but if you're hungry I can feed you?" He nodded. I went and got the personal pizza - personal now in the sense that it matter greatly to me - and I handed the box to the man. He looked up at me and nodded a thank you. "Can I pray over your meal?" I heard myself ask. He nodded again. For the third time that day I would address God, and for the second time that day I would kneel down in New York City in my white Capri's. Only this time I would kneel on the dirty pavement and my words were not focused on me. I prayed words that came from the Holy Spirit, personal things that I would never say to a stranger, bold things that I asked in faith and in love. In my position kneeling on the ground, this man who was sitting on a duffel bag, was above me. I was reminded of this verse in Philippians, ". . . in lowliness of mind let each esteem others better than himself. Let each of you look out not only for his own interest, but also for the interests of others." 2:3b-4. In a New York Minute my attention, my interests and my focus was changed. In a New York minute a homeless man ministered to me by the power of the Word of God. In a New York minute I went from panic to praise. You gotta' love New York! And you gotta' love God!

A New York Minute, Part II

. . . I made it through the Lincoln Tunnel . . . barely. We found a nice little Italian restaurant that was thankfully not too crowded, where I ordered a tall glass of ice. I held the ice on my wrists and neck and tried not to panic. I hate hot flashes, I hate menopause and I hate crowded cities. But, I love Broadway, I love my husband and I love my daughter. I went into the bathroom for the 5th time before the food even came. Only this time, I put two paper towels on the floor (I was wearing white Capri's) and knelt down to have myself a little talk with God. I asked God to give me peace so I can be present to the day's events. When I got back to the table the food had arrived. I had ordered a personal pizza, but it wasn't personal in the sense that one person could eat it, it was huge! I choked down one slice and had the rest boxed up to take home. The restaurant said they would hold the left over pizza until the play was over. I was a bit shaky and a bit achy and still hot. Needless to say, I was a bit distracted. Half a block away from the restaurant we walked past a man sitting on a duffel bag holding a cardboard sign that simply read, "Homeless." The city was hot and crowded, but this man seemed not to notice. On the contrary, he seemed to feel cold and lonely . . .

To be continued . . .

A New York Minute, Part I

I must preface this story with this fact. What I was experiencing this day was the beginning of passing my kidney stones. Since I had never passed a kidney stone before I didn't know it. I misread my body symptoms and assumed I was in the throws of a menopausal episode that caused me to have anxiety. Who knew?

The morning that my husband, my daughter and I were heading to NYC to see The 39 Steps began like most mornings. I woke up way too early but was way too tired to get out of bed. So, I began to pray. Meeting with God the first thing in the morning is wonderful. Midway through my conversation with God I started having a hot flash. Only this hot flash lasted a loooooonnnng time. "Great," I thought, "we're heading to New York where it's hot and crowded. Just what I need - menopause!" I got dressed to go - white capri's and sleeveless of course, with a scarf thrown in my bag for the air conditioned theatre - and off we went. I was having one long hot flash that seemed to get worse just as we entered the Lincoln Tunnel. That was when the anxiety set in. I mean we were just about 100 feet under the Hudson River in a tube that's only 13 feet tall and 20 feet wide . . . breathe . . .


To be continued. . .

I'm Toast

As you all know, I like to make light of the circumstances and situations we find ourselves in. As you also know, I have a serious side when it comes to life lessons from God. This post will have neither. How do you make light of a vice principal who unduly takes away your child's position because a crusty teacher lies? How do you make light of an insurance company who terminates your policy, without notice or justification, while you're passing kidney stones? How do you make light of having a serious allergic reaction to medication that was designed to make you well? How do you make light of a public agency who claims to protect children and places them in a shelter instead of a home? How do you make light of a company that charges way too much for Internet service that was out 2 weeks? How do you make light of crazy people who verbally assault you with no provocation? The short answer is you don't. Whatever lesson God is trying to teach me is, so far, lost on me. I'm sure there is a lesson, but what it is is unbeknownst to me. On the bright side . . . I did spend a few peaceful days at the beach, no sunburn, no jellyfish, no biting flies, no bad weather, a short surprise visit with a friend and some precious time with my family. And a dear, dear friend, reading in between the lines of my last post, reached out to me and made my day. God is good all the time, even when I'm toast.

Time For Laughter

If it is at all possible, go and see the play The 39 Steps on Broadway. It is a family safe play that is very funny. Even better, have your daughter take you . . . (thank you again peanut!)

In our hectic lives we must (must!) take time to laugh. There is so much work to be done and so many folks who can't do it by themselves. If we are going to be a light to others we need (need!) to take time to laugh. How can we go to someone and tell them we want to help them if we are wearing an old worn out face. How can we say, "Be joyful in all circumstances," and then not be joyful ourselves. Hypocrite! When you can't find the humor or joy in your circumstances, find it somewhere else (like a play, for instance). And by all means, don't waste your time helping folks who should be helping themselves. I'm not saying don't lend a hand or a word of encouragement, but help the folks who need it. Let your joy be evident, let your light shine, crack a smile or even better, just laugh.

Hold My Hand

The kidney stones passed, the allergic reaction passed, the secondary infection is getting better, but this too shall pass. The day is ending and I think about all the things that are going on in my life, but all this too shall pass. And it's good to let these things pass, to let the anger and annoyance and impatience to pass. When my kids were little I used to hold their hand when I had to tell them something I knew they wouldn't want to hear. I'd say, "Hold my hand because it's hard to be mad at someone when you're holding hands with them." You know, they always let me hold their hand, even though they knew it meant I would be telling them something unpleasant. Well, right now, God has got my hand. And no matter what He's got to say, I'll keep holding His hand because I know I am safe. I would rather hold His hand and hear something unpleasant than to have my way and an empty hand. Wherever God leads, I'm following. I may not always like it, but I know it's way better to be in His hand than any other place on or off the planet. When He said, "Take my hand because I've got something to say," I knew in my heart it might be unpleasant, but I never hesitated and I'm not letting go . . .

Birthing vs. Kidney Stones

Birthing babies hurt. God told us it would. Darn that Eve. However, God created our bodies in such a way that our bodies could accommodate the process. He gave us nice wide hips (thank you God), intermittent contractions, hormones and a flexible birth canal. I'm not saying birthing babies doesn't hurt, I'm just saying that God warned us about it and He made our bodies with all the right parts to do it. Now on the other hand, kidney stones hurt. Our bodies were not made to pass a stone. The path that a stone takes is not one that our bodies were ever expected to allow. I have heard women say, "My husband passed a stone last night, you'd think he'd just given birth." Or, "I told him try birthing a 9 pound baby!" Well, I am here to tell you ladies, passing a stone is equal to or greater than giving birth. Have a little compassion for those men in your life. Can you imagine if while you were giving birth your husband said to you, "If you think that hurts try passing a kidney stone!" Having done both now, birthing and passing kidney stones, I will surely have more compassion for those around me suffering. But, please don't don't go complaining about a hang nail, I would have to say, "Toughen up cupcake!"

In The Midst

Someone said, "Life is 10% what happens to you and 90% how you react to what happens." In other words, our attitude is what dictates how we handle life. I am sitting home right now instead of sitting at my daughter's high school graduation ceremony because I have a kidney stone that needs passing. Wouldn't want to pass it there . . . (my attitude stinks.)

Here is what I know. Deciding to do the right thing and have the right attitude is harder to do than just saying so. Not compromising your principles is easy until your principles are challenged. I can say all day long that I won't gossip and be very successful at it, until that is, the phone rings. I can say I will love all God's people and mean it with all my heart, until, someone speaks unkind to me. I can say I will not grow weary of doing good and then get so worn out I cry. When life is happening, when you're in the midst, how you react will be the truest measure of who you are; your character will shine through and people will take notice. If you do the right thing, if you walk close to God and follow His commands and live authentically, you will likely be hated by man. That's irony isn't it? People hate you when you follow God and hate you when you act like man. My daughter set her standards to God's word and in the midst she was true to Him. She made some enemies along the way, she even received hate mail (way to go honey). But in the end, she's walking at graduation with her principles in tact, her character strong and her attitude right. I'm so proud of her I could burst (and that's pretty much how my kidney feels, too!).

Message In A Bottle

Did you ever write a message, stick it in a bottle and throw it out to sea? What would you say? What would you hope the outcome to be? Imagine tossing a bottle into the ocean. A small vessel that bottle would be in a sea. What are the chances of someone actually finding it, reading it and responding to it? It seems impossible. One tiny bottle (message), tossed (prayed) into the sea (Heaven). Hoping (hoping) it will be recovered. Then, if it is recovered, will the message be answered?

I am here to tell you that messages (prayers) are recovered (answered) and there is hope, there is always hope.

July 25, 2006 our family threw a bottle into the Pacific Ocean with a message of love and hope.
July 28, 2006 that bottle was recovered by another family. The bottle hadn't traveled all that far (15 to 20 miles) but it made a pretty unique journey past the Golden Gate Bridge in pretty rough seas. It traveled north, up the Pacific Coast where it was found by a lovely family of three. Imagine our surprise and delight to receive a letter (via the U.S. mail, which incidentally moved slower than a bottle in the sea) saying our message was recovered. It seemed impossible.

Say your prayers, toss them to Heaven, expect them to be recovered and know that nothing is impossible with God.

The Good, The Bad, The Ugly

The Good:
-My daughter is home from college for the summer and she found a job working with children - her passion (hence her major in Children's Ministry).
-My middle daughter is ranked in the top 10 of her high school graduating class of over 350 students.
-For her birthday she received 3 tickets to a Broadway play and she invited me and her dad to go with her **beaming**.
-The boy is playing baseball on a pretty good summer team and watching him gives me delight.
-I get to leave all my "stuff" behind and just sit in the great outdoors and be a spectator.
The Bad:
-I have been working with a public agency for the benefit of someone who can't do it for himself.
-Bureaucracy runs rampant. . .
The Ugly:
-I have been working with a public agency.
-My foot. Yes, folks, I have become a real klutz. I tripped over the cat racing to get the phone (I thought it may be one of the bureaucrats finally answering my calls). The cat flew threw the air like a football, but not before tearing up my foot with her claws. Someone wants to render my left foot incapable.
But to end on a Good note:
-The husband says, "Feethurt, there is never a dull moment living with you." (Do you suppose that could have a double meaning?)

Dull And Stupid

I am exhausted. I have been working on a project (details to follow at a later date) that has taken up all of my energy and brain power. I have no sense of humor left, no time for rants, no desire to be clever or light or inspirational or creative. I have had a hot dog for lunch for 4 days in a row. I have become dull and stupid. Yesterday I tried to remove my terribly chipped finger nail polish using Sea Breeze face astringent. When my nail polish was not coming off I began to yell at the cotton ball and accused the blue colored liquid of plotting against me to make my life even more miserable than it already was. I tossed the cotton ball in the toilet and picked up the Sea Breeze to pour it down the bathroom drain. That is when I realized my error in grabbing the wrong bottle. I sat down on the bathroom floor and laughed, . . . then I cried. What a release of emotions! I now know why crazy people are always walking around laughing uncontrollably. It releases those bottled up emotions. I don't know how to do things just a little. It's all the way or not at all for me. There is no in-between. So, while I am working on this project, with all my heart, bear with me. Don't expect anything too inspirational or clever from me, just dull and stupid . . .

Superfluous Strawberries

Simplistic splendor satiates stomach & soul.

Do The Next Right Thing & Keep Walking

I have had a reconciliation with my pedometer. In fact, we are the best of friends. I am sorry that I let it fall . . . under my foot . . . three times. The surface is a little scratched up, but other than that, it is behaving like a trusted friend. I have set the stride to the correct number (30 inches) and I now wear it on my waist in the right spot. I found if I wear it too far to the left it only registers 1/2 my steps. If I wear it in the middle of my waist it counts only random steps. So, I wear it just where it counts all my steps. I have given myself a challenge to see if I can walk 10,000 steps a day. That's about 5 miles. Did you know that I have over a mile of carpet in my house? I did not know that until I wore my pedometer while I vacuumed. For three days I walked over 10,000 steps - well, sort of. Every time I bend over to pick a strawberry I get credit for a step. In reality, it's not really a step, but who am I to argue with my new best friend? I know there are some really good analogies in all of this, but I am so emotionally drained that I can't think of any. At some later time I will share why this has been an emotional time, but until then please pray for God to watch over His children. If you see any analogies in this, please share them with me. I could use a good analogy right about now.

Allowances

So, I was with a very nice group of ladies, having a very nice time . . . until, that is, they started talking about giving children allowances. I always shy away from those conversations because I am usually at odds with the majority. I understand the whole idea of teaching kids finance and responsibility with money. I understand the idea of teaching kids to make choices (Do I want a basketball or a baseball?). I even appreciate the idea of teaching kids to tithe. Some parents give allowances only after chores have been done (*cough* child labor). But I simply don't give my kids money each and every month just because they exist. My kids want for nothing. I'm not saying they're spoiled, but they're spoiled. I was sitting there minding my own business when someone said, "Well, you're very quiet. Do you give your children allowances?" "Yes," I said, "I give my children allowances." One of the moms chimed in, "No you don't! You told me you don't!" I said, "Oh, yes I do. I allow my children to live in my house rent free, I allow them to eat at my table for no charge, I allow them to store their possessions in my bedrooms for no fee and I even allow them to be driven in my car where ever they need to go without a fare. I think I give them a lot of allowances. Humph!" And that was the end of that.

Positively Prolific Plants

My seriously selfless strawberry patch from last year that produced only one berry at a time has changed to positively prolific plants this year. There are hundreds of berries and I'm afraid that they will all become ripe at the same time. Feast or famine. That is the story of my life. So much for balance and boundaries. And just because I like to, I will end with this.

Alliterations are always abounding around my abode.Sweet succulent strawberries satisfy and sustain the soul.

War On Stink Bugs

You all know I am fighting the battle to make my home stink bug free. I have been flushing each and every one down the toilet. A friend of mine told me that Windex kills sting bugs. She said if you fill a cup with Windex and drop the sting bugs in the cup they die instantly. She keeps a cup of Windex on her counter, collects the sting bugs all day long and then flushes them at night. She says they don't smell when they die in the Windex. So, I put Windex (the WalMart version of Windex anyway) in a cup on my counter. When I saw my first sting bug of the day I was a little squeamish about dropping him in the cup, but I am in a war here and squeamish folks don't win wars. I dropped him in the blue liquid and returned to my daily tasks. Later, I saw my second stink bug of the day. I snatched him up, being careful not to crush him and went to the glass on my counter. Well, the first stink bug had crawled up the side of glass, very much not dead, and he looked ticked off! Those beady little eyes glaring at me, his body wet and blue from the fake Windex. That didn't kill him, in fact, I think it gave him some sort of super powers. He jumped off the glass to fly at me but his wings were wet so he fell on the counter. I grabbed him and flushed him and his little cohort down the toilet. Phew! That was a close one. The moral of the story. When fighting a battle, get tough and for Pete's sake, buy the real Windex.

On Towels and Feet

Some weeks I feel old. This is one of them. Yesterday, after my shower, I grabbed a towel that is almost as old as I am. The towel is frayed at the ends (I smell an analogy). I had my left foot in the tub and my right foot stepping over the tub. My right foot got caught in the frayed end of the towel. Lucky for me I am still spry for my age. I dropped the towel and caught myself. I dried off and wrapped my hair in the towel. I stood in front of the mirror and saw two white threads sticking out of the frayed ends of the towel. I grabbed each thread to pull off the culprits. OUCH!! It turns out that without my glasses on I didn't realize that those two long white threads were actually two errant grey hairs on my head that refused to behave like the rest of my hair that was neatly tucked into the towel. Today, I went to my son's baseball game with two very pretty earrings on. Unfortunately, they didn't match each other. I thought I would garden after the game, barefoot, because that always makes me feel young. Walking backwards, I dragged a 40 pound bag of mulch to the backyard, but not before tripping over the Quoits board, falling back and damaging my foot and ankle. I used to have pretty feet. Not so much anymore. My husband says he wants to throw those old towels away. I say, "Nuh-uh, I may be frayed at the ends, but you're not getting rid of me." He says, "I wouldn't dream of it dear." I'm starting to feel younger. . .

Motherhood

Motherhood is a constant battle between the past and the future while trying to keep your eyes on the present. Not an easy task by any means. The moment your child is born you want to remember every happy second and in remembering you sometimes miss the present. You also want to secure their futures by thinking ahead and in doing so you sometimes miss the present. Remembering the past is an important aspect of motherhood. My kids love hearing stories about themselves and their siblings. Personally, I remember stories for the sake of keeping the facts straight. Ask my middle daughter what she remembers about family vacations and she'll tell you about the time we went to the laundry mat or how we didn't take her to the aquarium with us. Sheesh! And, for obvious reasons, planning ahead is also a very important aspect of motherhood. So, how do you keep your eyes on the present? How do you focus on the "to" in today? Simple, just be. Open your eyes and your ears and your heart. No matter what age your children are, they love when you are present to them. They want to be seen and heard and loved. And who better to see, hear and love them than you? Motherhood isn't about who has the best children or highest achievers (though I do), it's about being in the moment. It's about living in the present while juggling the past and the future in the right proportions. It's about time well spent. It's about balance. And most importantly, it's about love. Happy Mother's Day.

Rattling Heaven's Gates

I have this funky friend who's always saying funny things about me. She's always kind and usually insightful. Seeing myself through her eyes is always a hoot. We met under a stressful situation that required a great deal of patience and perseverance, neither of which I possessed, so I was in prayer a lot. My friend saw the best of me and the worst of me. Her memory of that time is thankfully different than mine. She seems to have forgotten my impatience but does remember me as "a bull dog, no a pit bull" that fought for some one's life. She remembers that I leaned heavily on God, referring often to this verse: "Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths." Proverbs 3:5-6. Just recently she had asked me for advice regarding someone very special to her. I put in my 2 cents and committed it prayer. Today my friend called and I asked her about the situation. She happily reported great progress. I said, "I am so pleased, I had been praying hard." She said, (and I love this) "I just knew that you, my dear friend, was praying because I saw results very quickly. You don't give up, you just rattle the gates of Heaven until God hears you." That image of me rattling Heaven's gate, shouting prayers at God, is now stuck in my head. The only thing is, that I picture myself as a dog. . .

Good News vs. Bad News

The good news is that I lost 4 pounds on Weight Watchers.
The bad news is that it took 4 weeks to lose 4 pounds.
The good news is that my bathing suit fit better for my trip to California with my husband.
The bad news is that I never had the opportunity to wear my bathing suit.
The good news is that we ate great food, saw great sights and fellowshiped with great folks.
The bad news is that I gained 4 pounds in 1 week.
The good news is that I am just back to zero pounds lost and zero pounds gained.
The bad news is that my daughter just made chocolate chip cookies.
The good news is that I only ate 3 of them.
The bad news is that I also ate cookie dough.
The good news is that I am home and instead of eating more cookies, I can blog.
The bad news is that they smell soooo good.
The good news is that my son just got home and the cookies won't last.
The bad news is that tomorrow I start again to count my points.
The good news is that tomorrow I start again to count my points.
It all evens out in the end, doesn't it?

Focus On The Positive

The kiddie train must have been full (likely with other moms who didn't want to ride the roller coaster anymore) because I was definitely not riding along smoothly this week. However, I did have some wonderful experiences this week and in an attempt to focus on the positive, as I so often demand my family, I will tell you about them. Our family, all 5 of us, had a lovely dinner at Chili's - good food, good value, great company. My daughter got into a very hard to get into program at the college we visited. My daughter is ranked in the top 10 seniors of her graduating class. My ladies Bible study iced and decorated cupcakes for a soup kitchen. That was all good except for when the icing bag exploded . . . 3 times. I walked 5 times with my neighbor, averaging 2 miles each walk and I know this because my pedometer has decided to behave. As a result of the walking and eating better I lost 3 pounds (I know it's not a lot, but we're focusing on the positive). I finally found a pair of Sketcher sandals to replace the ones Bart ate and bought them in a whole size smaller than I usually wear. I told my daughter that the 3 pounds I lost must have all been in my feet. And finally, our son (who was just nominated for National Honor Society) made our family breakfast yesterday morning. Scrambled eggs, home-made pancakes, sausage, oranges and hot tea. It doesn't get much better than that!

Life Adapted

Our anniversary week was like a roller coaster, much like our life . . . It began fine, meeting with friends, who live far away, at an Arby's. We moved 6 tables together, fought about who would pay (we snuck two 20 dollar bills in our friend's purse when she wasn't looking - heehee), decorated the tables with flowers that were given as gifts, ate and sat for hours. Every one of us left beaming with delight. The next day we said good-bye to a lovely couple and their daughter who sold all their possessions to move to an over-crowded island for mission work. The next day I went to my son's baseball game - they lost . . . bad. The next day I had invited an old friend to lunch, but forgot and when she knocked on the door, which I answered in my sweats, all I had to offer was a bunch of rotten bananas. I made banana muffins, which I served with butter, tea served with honey and a small fruit salad of apples and grapes. We talked and laughed for about 2 hours until we noticed how sick the cat was looking. She left, I called my daughter at college (it's her cat) and she came home to say good-bye to Kate. Kate died during the night. On our anniversary morning I asked my husband to bury Kate next to the flower garden. He said, "Sure." I went out to say good-bye to Kate and realized my husband thought I said, "Bury Kate IN the flower garden." The next day I hopped on a plane to look at a college with my daughter in Florida, which is pretty far from NJ. Let's see, we got lost, but found our way, loved the college which causes me distress, visited a friend, went to the beach only to find it full of Man-O-Wars, said good-bye to my friend and then flew home. It's now a new week and hopefully instead of a roller coaster, I can ride on the little kiddie train . . .

It Began With A Broom

It all began innocently enough. I grabbed the broom and began to sweep a corner of the garage. I pushed aside an old vacuum cleaner so I could sweep under it and I saw what junk it was and I didn't want to put it back, so I grabbed a big garbage bag and put the vacuum cleaner in it. I had space left in the bag and thought it a waste not to fill the bag with other junk so I pulled other stuff out to be thrown away. But then the bag began to overflow and I needed to get another bag. The second bag was only half full when I was finished with that corner so I decided to sweep another part of the garage. I swept under a shelf that needed organizing and noticed items we had since 1988 and I easily filled up bag #2. My third bag got filled up in blink, as did bag #4, 5 and 6. After bag #8 or maybe it was 9, my foot began to hurt. Just about that time my husband pulled into the driveway. I limped over to him and said, "My foot hurts, 'feet hurt'." He said, "Don't you 'feet hurt' me! Are you cookoo?!" I ignored him and asked sweetly, "Do you think you can take this stuff to the dump?" Which he did, all 480 pounds of it! When he got back I had 3 more bags and a severely sore foot. He took away my broom and my garbage bags and didn't call me 'feet hurt' for days : ( But, alas, yesterday was our anniversary, and he is the one who is cookoo because for 26 years he's been married to me. He wrote on my anniversary card, "For My Feet Hurt." : )

A Stitch Story

When my oldest daughter was three, she loved going to visit my good friend across the street. She would pick up and run across the street. As you can imagine, this was not a safe thing for her to do. First, I scolded, to no avail. Then, I spanked, to no avail. Then, I spanked and scolded, to no avail. Then, I set her in her playpen every time I left the room. Finally, I sat her down at the curb and told her that if she ran across the street and a car was coming, SMACK! She'd hit the pavement and her skin would split open and I'd have to take her to the emergency room where the doctor would use a needle and thread to stitch her back together again. That prevented her from running across the street, however, that did not prevent her from falling on her chin in the driveway. I took her to the emergency room and the nurse said, "She needs stitches." My daughter began to scream, "NO, I DON'T WANT THE DOCTOR TO PUT A NEEDLE IN ME AND SEW ME BACK TOGETHER!" The nurse said, "Oh, she's had stitches before?" "No," I said. The nurse replied in disgust, "Well, how does a 3 year old know the graphic details of stitches?" "Because," I said, weakly, "I am a good mother." I guess it doesn't matter what we say to the ER nurses, the fact that you're in an ER in the first place reflects poorly on your motherhood. The nurse had to strap my daughter in a papoose to keep her from running out the door into the street. Sheesh, if I had had a papoose I could have kept my daughter from running into the street, too.

P.S. To Love Thy Neighbor

A friend of mine said to me, "Imagine if you had planted your neighbors plants? They could have been pretty annoyed with you." Certainly, they could have been, with every right, annoyed with me if I had planted someone else's Easter gifts in their garden. I hope I would have thought the whole thing out before I actually followed through with "loving thy neighbor." But this leads me to a whole other thought process. I really did want to love my neighbor and I really did want to follow God's command and I really did have the best of intentions and I really did love the idea of planting those flowers and I, I, I . . . who's this about anyway? . . . certainly not my neighbor . . . and there goes the good deed, lost in a sea of pride. God really does want us to love our neighbors, but in a way that our neighbors would appreciate. Last night someone said to me, "People who are hard to love are hard to love." It's easy to do an act of kindness for thy neighbor if the act is something we love to do. The real love comes from doing an act of kindness that thy neighbor would love. And as it turns out, God being the merciful and wise God that He is, I was provided with an opportunity to do an act of kindness when my neighbor said she'd walk with me. We spent the morning walking and talking and then sitting and talking and then standing and talking and then saying good-bye and talking. I do love to talk. Maybe this was an act of kindness on her part . . .

Stitches

So, my husband says, "Can you move your toes?"
I tried to and cried, "Waaaa, I can't move my toes!"
He said, "Yes, look your toes are moving."
I cried, "Waaaa, I can't feel my toes!"
He said, "Nobody can feel their toes."
I cried, "Waaaa . . . wait, what?"
He said, "Touch them and see if you feel anything."
I said, "Waaaa, I'm afraid."
He said, "Don't be afraid, because if you can't feel anything, it won't hurt when you get stitches."
I said, "Waaaa, I don't want stitches. I'll just stitch it myself. Get me a needle and thread."
He said, "Get in the car."
To the doctor in the ER I said, "Waaaa, can't I just stitch it myself."
The doctor said, "Does it hurt?"
I said, "Waaaa, it does."
He said, "What does it feel like?"
I said, "Like pain, duh."
He said, "Well, I'm done. Come back in 10 days and I'll remove the stitches."
To the nurse I said, "Can't I just remove the stitches myself and do I really need a tetanus shot and can I give it to myself if I really need it?"
The nurse said, "No and yes and no." However, after he gave me the tetanus shot, he gave my husband one sterilized Suture Removal Kit and said, "She ain't coming back, is she?"
" . . . ah . . . no," said the wisest man I know, my one and only, my feet hurt.

My Foot Hurts, Feet Hurt

One evening about 24 years ago, my husband came up from behind me and whispered (into my bad ear), "My feet hurt."
I said, "Aww, what happened?"
He said, smiling, "You happened."
I said, "What?! What did I do to make your feet hurt?"
He said, "My feet don't hurt."
I said, "Yes, they do."
He said, "No, they don't."
I said, "Why did you just tell me your feet hurt?"
He said, "You're cookoo. I never said that."
I said, "Yes, you did, you came up to me and whispered 'my feet hurt'."
He said, "I said, 'my sweetheart', I was whispering sweet nothings into your ear."
I said, "That was my bad ear and who are you calling cookoo?"
So, the joke has been for 24 years that we call each other "feet hurt."
Today I said, "My foot hurts."
He said, "You mean feet hurt."
I said, "No, my foot hurts. I dropped the toilet tank top on it and I think I need stitches."
He said, "You're cookoo."
I said, "Please take me to the hospital."
He said, "How bad does your foot hurt, feet hurt?"
I said, "Bad and who are you calling cookoo?"

Love Thy Neighbor

I had been thinking about how God commands us to love our neighbors as ourselves. It's not a suggestion and there is no qualifier like, "Love your neighbor if he is nice." So, as I was walking today I was thinking, "what can I do to show my neighbor that I love him?" I saw these beautiful Easter plants on the side of one of the neighbor's home. I thought, "I'll finish my walk, go home to get my gardening tools and come back and plant them for them." I was tickled as I walked my 2 miles and thought about it. I plotted the whole scene in my head. I knew exactly where I would plant each Easter Lily and each Tulip. I visualized the Sun's pattern across their property and their trees to figure out what spot would get the best sun/shade combination. I even vowed to go back to their house each week with my watering can and fertilizer to ensure the plants would thrive. You reap what you sow, right? What a blessing it would be for me to love my neighbor, to follow God's command. I could share all this with the ladies at my Bible study and be an inspiration, a shining example. I was smiling ear to ear . . . until . . . I walked back past my neighbor's house . . . the Easter plants were gone . . . they were loaded up in the back of their car . . . apparently they were Easter gifts . . . those rat finks!!

Praise The Lord

I am getting so sick and tired of hearing women complain about motherhood. There are new books published each day on the subject of motherhood and stay-at-home moms. Each is said to be written with wit and humor, but instead most are written with a negative spin about moms being the "victim" because no one ever told them how hard it is. Wawawa, call the wambulance! There are movies on the topic as well, with beautiful, witty and hostile mothers who are striving to feel worth in their chaotic life. I want to shout from the roof tops and slap these ladies upside their heads (okay, I do understand that some of these emotions may be the result of unstable hormones brought on by menopause . . . but now I digress). Stop complaining ladies and start praising God for your blessings. Repeat after me. "Thank you God for the miracle of life and my beautiful child(ren). Thank you for this kitchen and bathroom that I must clean and this home that shelters us. Thank you for dollar store goodie bag items. Thank you for my vacuum cleaner that vacuums up dollar store goodie bag items. Thank you for the food that I put on the table each day. Thank you that I have able hands and feet to serve this food to my family. Thank you Lord for the blessings that are abounding in my life." When you start praising God for each of your blessings you will see that there is no time for complaining because we could praise God all day long. That's it for now for this rant, I must go yell at blessing number 3 to get off the phone . . .

Believe Me

I can't believe another month has gone by. It's already April. It's getting too close to shorts and bathing suit weather. I started off my month very poorly, diet wise. For breakfast I had eggs . . . chocolate malted ones with speckled candy coating - yummy. For my mid-morning snack I had more eggs, marshmallow ones with dark chocolate coating. Then for lunch I figured I needed to clean up my menu so I had cheese . . . doodles, that is . . . lots of them. As I type this, my fingers are still orange. I decided I needed to get out and walk off some of these bad calories so I walked 3 and a half miles down to the new Shop Rite where I purchased a muffin . . . with chocolate chips. I walked the 3 and a half miles back home and I was starving. Guess what I had then? M & M's!! Yummy, yummy, yummy. . . and if you believed any of this . . . April Fool's.

That's A Muffin!

This is a muffin made the usual fabulous way I make them. Whole grains and oats, fresh eggs and milk, pure vanilla extract, organic sugar and raw nuts. My son, who has been body building asked if I'd add some protein powder to the muffin batter the next time. I thought that my muffins were pretty fantastic the regular way, but being the wonderful and understanding mother that I am, I made them with the protein powder like he asked.

The results? . . .

well,

see for yourself.

Wow!! Now that's a muffin!

Short Accounts

I have a sweet friend who called me today with a concern that she had gossiped about a woman who is hurting. The thing is that I don't even recall the conversation (yay for peri-menopause!). She had it on her heart to apologize for the offense (one sentence), so she called me and confessed. She felt that instead of saying something that was negative, she should have said something positive. I was so touched by her sensitivity! I love having a friend that feels bad if she (not even on purpose) says something less than encouraging about her friends. Here is the irony (and I have to say that I love how God works) if I ever meet the "offended" woman (and if I even remember this conversation beyond tomorrow) my heart will be so tender toward her because instead of the negative comment (which I don't recall), I will forever remember that she is hurting. It's such a reminder to me that everybody we meet has a story to tell. I haven't met a person yet that has escaped life without a few painful bumps. Plus, my friend may have felt I'd think poorly of her because of her comment, however, I think more highly of her than ever because of her sensitive nature. It's what makes her so special to me. I applaud her for short account with God, her courage for calling me and her love of others . . . I applaud me for picking her as a friend (yay me!). . . and I applaud God for the irony of it all.

That's The Kind Of Guy He Is

Today I fought with my husband. Not in private like most couples do. No, we fought in the busiest place in our county, the new Shop Rite. Yes, folks, it was a sight and unfortunately most of the county saw us. It started out as an "adventure." I said to my husband this morning, "hey, you wanna go to the new Shop Rite with me today, it'll be an adventure." He gave me a look that said, "I know you and shopping is never fun with you and I hate Shop Rite and you know that I vowed never to go there." But he said, "Sure" (because that's the kind of guy he is). We got there and the parking lot was packed. We walked inside and the store was packed. The floors are hard and cold. The aisles are narrow and long. The ceilings are high and sounds echo. He said something and I heard, "mumble mumble, mumble mumble, mumble mumble." I said, "WHAT?" He said it again and again and again. Finally, I went over and shouted, "I can't hear you!" He said, "Never mind, it's not funny anymore." He stopped to look at gummy bears and I lost him. He stopped again, this time to look at videos and I lost him. When I found him I yelled at him. While I was yelling at him some old lady stood there just looking at me. I glared at her and thought, "Take a picture why don't you!" She said, "Excuse me, but you're standing in front of my cart." I stepped out of the way, turned to my husband and said, "We need to go back to aisle 1, I just put about $10.00 of groceries in her cart." And just like that, the fight was over (because that's the kind of guy he is).

A Little Nerd Story

Many years ago my husband and I were invited to a Halloween Party. We decided to go as nerds. So, we went to a thrift shop at one of the local churches to buy outfits. I picked out a lovely polyester pants suite, old eye glasses and a bright red purse. My husband picked out polyester pants, a polyester shirt, a pocket protector, old glasses, a chunky belt and black shoes. We played the "nerds" all night. In my bright red purse I had big, yellow rubber gloves and using them I picked up discarded food scraps. I placed each food scrap in my purse and later that evening set a table for my husband and myself. I set out the food scraps and we ate them. My husband played his part a little too well, if you catch my drift. He buttoned his shirt wrong, left his zipper down, tucked his shirt into his underwear, wore white socks with his black shoes and flood-water pants, taped his glasses and wore the pocket protector (all things he has done at one time or another - sorry Honey, just sayin'). We won the costume contest, unanimously. But here is the best part. When we were at the thrift shop getting our costumes my husband came over to me and said very excitedly while holding up some ties, "Look at these really cool ties I just bought! They were only a dollar each. Aren't they really nice??!!" "Sweetie," I said flatly, "those are the ties I donated here last month that I pulled out of your closet. Give them back." Which he did . . . under protest . . . just sayin' . . .

B4 U Hit Send

Well, if you saw my last post you saw a picture of my new phone. This is the first upgrade to our cell phone service since 2001. Our old cell phone, which I shared with my husband, was big, with big buttons and no texting capabilities. It had an antenna, great reception and easy to navigate tools. I got my new phone (my own, but not really because even though I don't share with my husband anymore, I share this one with my son - but whatever) and quickly learned how to use it. I have texted my daughter at college with the appropriate emoticons, I have texted a picture of my omelet to my daughter while she was in study hall at school, I have texted my son's "friend" to ask her when she was getting picked up (hint-hint) while I was upstairs and they were downstairs. I have texted all my way cool young friends sending them quirky messages in "textease." Yes, folks, this dinosaur with big thumbs mastered the art of "communicating" through texting. I have also mastered the art of rude. I answered my phone right in the middle of Bible study, I interrupted my husband to receive and then send a text, I even texted at the dinner table. I was tempted, but refrained from viewing the beeping, vibrating device in my pocket while I was driving. Today, I am sending out a mass text which reads: "Peeps, I am 2 busy 2 txt u anymore. Pls b sure u rly have something important 2 say b4 u txt me :D"
U c, I am so cool, I dont need 2 txt anymore :-)

What I Did During The Snow Storm

First I took out my sewing machine and made cell phone cases. I lined each one with a thick batting to protect them. Sometimes I am so clever that I even surprise myself.

Then I went outside with my family and made Mario, the Italiano snowman. Notice his mustache and his gupalini. Again, I surprise and amuse myself.

Then I finished crocheting this baby blanket for a dear, dear couple who are expecting their first child this month. Every time I sat down to crochet I prayed over this baby and the dear couple. I began by praying for the fetal development of the baby and continued praying through all the years of this child's life. What an honor for me to pray for this little life and the family and friends who will be touched by it. The center represents the child's small and humble beginnings and the outer edges represents a life well lived, finishing strong.

Finally, the sun came out and shined into my kitchen catching the bottom of a CD, casting this beautiful rainbow along the corner of the wall.
Again, I ask you folks, how great is our God?

Today, it's back to the grind. . .

On Lunch

I had the most fabulous lunch today. It wasn't the food (though the food was excellent, I had Panko crusted eggplant, fresh spinach, roasted red peppers, basil ricotta Parmesan on toasted flatbread, topped with fresh mozzarella and drizzled with balsamic vinaigrette - yummy!) it was the company that made lunch so fabulous. I lunched with someone I haven't seen in over 20 years in a nice little restaurant outside of town. She even went so far as to say I looked exactly as I did 22 years ago - boy, oh boy, I love that woman. Are you wondering who she is? Have you guessed? It was Tina, the social worker who matched me and my little brother together all those years ago. She is the woman responsible for creating a bond between two strangers that has never been broken. It was wonderful to thank her and confirm to her that she did a great thing when she matched us as Big Sister and Little Brother. We laughed and shared stories and ate and laughed some more. My heart explodes with joy thinking of it. In the year that Tina was our social worker, I learned so much from her. She encouraged me to step outside of my comfort zone, she supported me, she signed me up for a parenting class to teach me how to best deal with my little brother, (I am still using those techniques today) and she applauded my successes. I would not be the woman nor the mother I am today if not for having known her. She was thrilled to hear about my successes as a wife, a mother and a mentor but would take no credit for it. Isn't it funny how some people will never know how much influence they bestow on others? Again, I ask, how great is our God?