Working 9 to 5, Not ... continued

... so, with this list of demands, I went to the Lord. "God, I need a job," I said. "It has to be something fun, something that won't interfere with the raising of my teens or working for my husband, and something using my specific gifts and talents." God said, "Is that all?" I said, "No, I want lots of money, too." God said, "Don't push it." I said, "Fine... but not until September, I'm too busy with the kids and guests. I want to be able to enjoy my family and provide healthy and delicious meals for them. I want afternoons free to cook. I want to linger at the dinner table long after meals are over. What I'm saying, Lord, is the only available time would be Sunday evenings." So, God went right to work. In a matter of 6 minutes, I was hired to work Sunday evenings, 4 pm to midnight until the beginning of October. In October, my position and hours will change. I can pick my hours (15 - 25 hours per week) anytime Monday - Saturday. God saw fit to have me minister to women suffering from serious addictions. Currently, (I did my first shift yesterday) I am a monitor on Sunday evenings to 9 delightful women living in a Christian rehab facility. In October, I will be their Spiritual Counselor. I would have never taken the job, feeling wholly inadequate, if God hadn't provided everything I asked for. I am so grateful and so in awe of our God. HE provided all that I asked. The only thing I would change? I would have asked God for a new wardrobe, too : )

Working 9 to 5, Not

I have worked for my husband at our home law office for 23 years. It's been the absolute best situation I could have ever dreamed of. When the kids were little I hired a sweet old lady (may she rest in peace) to come to our house to watch the kids while I worked in the office. I took frequent breaks, ate lunch with my children and was there for every major (and minor) scrape and scrap. I was so efficient that when them new fangled computers came out, we streamlined the office work to a minimal. I was able to homeschool the kids and run the office in record time. We deemed my husband the Dean of our little Academy of Academic Excellence and as such, he came to all homeshcool trips and ceremonies. He even got to drive the van! How blessed was I? But, times are a changing. Work is slow, the kids are older, the dryer died, the van needs upgrading, college/private schools are expensive... so I told my husband, "I'm getting a job." He said, "You have a job, I still need you (awww) and there are too many people living here right now. I can't cook for them. I couldn't do what you do. Don't leave me," (literary license). So, I began to pray about it. I asked God to provide me with the absolute best situation I could dream of. I said, "God, I need a job. It has to be something fun, something that would not interfere with the raising of my teens or working for my husband, and something using my specific gifts and talents." God said, "Is that all?" I said, "No, I want lots of money, too." God said, "Don't push it." I said, "Fine..." (Is it a sin to roll your eyes at God?) ...to be continued...

Reap What You Sow

You reap what you sow. Who can argue with that? One red pepper and two feeble tomatoes is what I have sown from my community garden plot. I have gone to water the plot three times...hmmmm...and produced three fruit. Not much effort, not much harvest.


However, my black-eyed susan's, porch peppers, basil and petunia's are doing well, don't you think?

I step out my front door and water my plants and they respond by growing well.

The problem, as I see it, is that we sow well when the sowing is convenient or "fun". Raising babies was fun, ... teenagers... not so much. But, I must "tend" to raising them as I would anything else that I want to reap a harvest from. I did not expect to reap a huge harvest of tomatoes from two feeble plants that I only watered three times. (I'm sure my kids would be thrilled to know I am comparing them to tomatoes, but that's how my brain works.) Tending to teenagers is a full-time job. Just feeding them dinner is a challenge. The story of Jesus feeding 5,000+ is only amazing to me because Jesus still had energy to feed the souls of His people after feeding their stomachs. After food shopping, cooking and cleaning, I don't have much energy left. I have a friend who is very sick, so her teenage daughter moved in with us. That makes 3 teenagers and 3 adults to feed and tend to. Every night of the week someone invites someone for dinner. Two nights last week we had 9 for dinner and one night we had 30 (the baseball team). I'm not complaining, in fact, I love having people here. That's the part of sowing I don't mind. It's the deeper stuff that gets me tangled up, the feeding of souls. I want to produce a garden with a huge harvest. Pray for me, that the raising of those in my home will be more "fun" and thus easier to tend to. I wish my kids were like my basil, when I want it to continue to grow and produce a bigger harvest, I just pinch off their heads...

More Stupid Things

. . . After my workout and a few unnecessary comments under my breath about bug spray not keeping away all types of pests, I headed home to shower. But not before a gal at the gym offered to make a sample shake for folks to try. They use fresh fruits, vitamins and protein powder. She asked me what kind to make. I said, "How about the Pina Colada?" After she made the shake, she offered me a sample. I said, "Oh, no thanks, I'm allergic to pineapple." Stupid, right? Then I headed out to meet some friends. One friend is the mother of two 7 year old girls. One girl is rather dramatic. My friend shared that her daughter says to her, "Mom, you're ruining my life." My friend asked, with great concern, looking for pearls of wisdom from the "mature" mother of 3, "What do I say to her when she says that to me?" Stupidly I replied, "Tell her she ain't seen nothing yet!" Not very helpful on my part, in fact, a stupid and useless comment. After a moment of thoughtful consideration, my friend, the dear gal that she is, burst out laughing. She takes me so seriously and values everything I say. She thinks I have it all together. Poor thing. . . I just pray that my stupidity never outweighs my ability to laugh at myself.

Stupid Things

Like many people, I keep a supply of items in my car for emergencies. Pain reliever, water, a flashlight, a blanket, an umbrella, bug spray and, of course, hairspray. You never know when you're going to have a bad hair day, right? Yesterday was just that, a bad hair day. On my way to the gym I noticed my hair was a mess (don't judge me). I reached over and grabbed the familiar green bottle and sprayed my hair in perfect place. My eyes began to tear so I pulled into the parking lot at the gym and reached over and grabbed the saline (another emergency item). I rinsed my eyes. When my vision returned I saw that I had sprayed bug spray on my hair! By the way, bug spray holds your hair into place just as well as hairspray, though I would not recommend this unless it is a true hair emergency. Earlier that day I was walking with my husband and the puppy. We met, formally for the first time, neighbors that have lived on our block for 2 years (again, don't judge me). The wife is pregnant. She was refinishing a bed frame and not having a good time at it. I told her to use her "pregnancy card." Then, because that wasn't dumb enough, I complained about how the puppy wanted me to carry him home because he was tired. I said, "Sheesh, he's the one with four legs, I only have two" . . . to be continued. . .

The Cell

Do you know why we call cell phones cell phones? It's because having a cell phone is like carrying around your own personal prison cell. You can't ever escape the bounds of those who want to know where you are and what you are doing. And it's not bad enough that people can call you, they can also text you. "Y didnt u pick up when i called? lol" Seriously? I text back, "What's so funny? Y r u always lol?" And do you know what? People answer me with, "lol!" only this time with an exclamation point! Give me a little solitary confinement please. Lock me in my room with no communication devices for a week. Talk to me through the door. Or better yet, write me a letter. Wouldn't it be nice to get an old fashioned letter in the mail instead of just bills or an advertisement? Don't get me wrong. I love technology as much as the next guy, I just think we go too far with it. I don't think we ever get enough time to be alone with our own thoughts. I would make this post longer, but the warden is calling . . . I mean, the cell phone is ringing . . .