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.