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.