A "Loaves and Fish" Book Story

10 years ago the Pastor's wife gave me 2 books. I said, "What are these for?" She said, "God told me to give them to you." I looked down at them in my hand and said, "Thank you. But did you know they are written in a foreign language?" "Yes," she said, "it's Russian." Now, I don't like to look a gift horse in the mouth nor do I like to disagree with God, so I graciously accepted them. I put them in a basket, in my kitchen, behind a bunch of stuff I don't use. About a year later, my daughter received a letter from Lena, a Russian girl who received a Christmas box from my daughter through Samaritan's Purse. My daughter and Lena became pen-pals. One day while going through my basket I came upon those books. One was библия and the other иисус. We learned these were a Bible and a book called Jesus. We excitedly wrapped up The Bible (библия) and sent it on to Lena. A few years later my daughter met a Russian boy named Vlad. She excitedly gave Vlad Jesus (иисус). A few years later a good friend of mine hired a young Romanian man, named Roma, who spoke Russian. My friend witnessed to him, but the language and culture barrier was difficult. If only I had one of those Russian books! Lo and behold иисус was in my basket! I gave it to my friend. Last month I met a Russian woman at work. She is struggling with addiction and needs Jesus. If only I had one of those Russian books! Lo and behold иисус was in my basket! So, we have given away 2 books, 4 times! The Russian woman cried an ocean of tears as I told her the story of the books and handed her Jesus. Someone asked me, "Do you think you'll ever find another one of those books in your basket?" I replied, "Yes, if I ever meet another Russian."

Do You Lie To Your Kids?

I remember once, when the kids were young, I took them to the hardware store and let them all pick out cheap paint brushes. We went home and I filled up a bucket of water and told them to paint the house. They "painted" the outside of our house for hours! When the water got low, I told them to fill the bucket up with paint from the garden hose, which they did. We repeated this activity many, many times in the summer, over the years of their youth. We had a small log cabin in the back yard that Grammy and Pop-Pop bought for the kids. They painted that hundreds of times, too. Today, my kids tell me that they actually thought they were painting. They say, "Mother, you lied to us!" My response, "Oh, come on, how dumb were you?" They say that they trusted me completely and if I told them they were painting, then they believed they were painting. I say, "It's like telling you that Santa bought the gifts on Christmas. It's one of those things that's okay to lie about." They say, "YOU MEAN SANTA WAS A LIE, TOO?!" I am just waiting for them to figure out that the Easter Bunny is not real and the 40 days of fasting from a favorite food before Easter is not actually a requirement for getting baskets and candy. Oh, and I wonder if they'll ever figure out that the Tooth Fairy is not really allergic to dust. Do you lie to your kids?

OMG, BU&M, KASD

I think it is so funny that the youth of our society think they are smarter than the adults because they have mastered a lesser form of communication. Texting is not a higher form of communication that eludes adults, rather, it is a lesser form that we choose not to waste our precious time mastering. It's like mastering kindergarten when you are 52 years old. Why bother? I like my superior communication skills. I like that I know how to express myself in words and not symbols or emoticons. I think our youth would be better served learning how to spell than how to abbreviate. My son told me I was a weird texter and below is the response I sent to him, to which he replied, "that made no sense, but okay mom"
To son: "Just because our society has raised a bunch of non-communicative teenagers who think all emotions need to be or can be expressed with cute emoticons, does not mean I am a weird texter. I try to express myself using syllable accents as if I were actually conversing with someone. On the contrary, simply by saying I am a weird texter, you are showing your lack of proper social skills by saying whatever comes into your wittle head." (For those of you who have not mastered abbreviations, my title is "Oh My Gosh, Between You And Me, Kids Are So Dumb.)

You Gotta' Make It Hurt

I held a book club with the women I work with. These dear women are so fun. The book was Tuck Everlasting. It's about a family that accidentally drinks from a spring that gives everlasting life. You may think this is a blessing, especially if you are 17 year old Jesse. However, is it a blessing for Mae and Tuck? Read the book and find out : ) Anyway, our talk of 17 year old Jesse led to a discussion about my son. We talked about 17 year old boys being impulsive and living in the moment, anything beyond 30 seconds in the future is out of their grasp. "Ma, can I ski off the roof with my snow board?", he'd ask. Imagine if he could live forever what he would do! Is it any wonder my hair is grey?! My son bought a car, a red mustang, V8, 5 speed, and has been working on it for 5 months. He's been itching to drive it on his own. He got his license on a Thursday. On Friday, less than 24 hours later, my husband and I took his license away. Yes, we are the meanest parents alive. I told the women, "You gotta' make it hurt. They don't learn otherwise." They agreed. So, when I suspended his cell phone service today, I told the customer service operator, "You gotta' make it hurt." He agreed. Like Mae Tuck, I could live forever happily, but parenting forever . . . now that would hurt.

Send Me A Caption

Washington "Tebowing"

Look Up

So, I have sat back and heard the news stories about Tim Tebow. I have heard some pretty sweet things about the guy and his faith. I have also heard some pretty harsh things about weather or not God cares about a football game. Even some Christians are saying that God does not care about football. But, why wouldn't God care? If we, mere humans, care enough to cheer our children on at competitive events (music, sports, debates, etc.), why wouldn't God, who is the ultimate Father, care about a football game. “Which of you, if your son asks for bread, will give him a stone?" Matthew 7:9 If Tim Tebow asked for a completed pass, why would God give him a stone instead? A request was made by a child of God (Tebow) who has been obedient to his Father (God) and His Father granted that request. If a quarterback who has been disobedient to God, asked for a completed pass, God may not be as likely to grant that request. Does God care about football? But even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not therefore: you are of more value than many sparrows. Luke 12:7 If God cares for the sparrows, will He not care for humans even more? I think so. How does God show Himself to us? Through the answering of our prayers, through signs and wonders and miracles. Was Tebow's win a miracle? Not really, but it sure makes us look up, doesn't it?

One Step Forward, Two Steps Backward, Three Steps Sideways

As most of you know, I have worked for my husband for 23 years at our home office, 10 of those years I also homeschooled the kids. Then business got slow and the kids grew up (in spite of my constant protest), so I got a part-time job. One step forward. It was the perfect job. I used all my organization skills and parenting skills to minister to 12 dear women who are searching for Christ in an effort to be healed from addiction. I fell in love with each and every women. I felt honored to be there. What I did not know (as I was not told) was that the job required me to counsel the women, teach the classes, attend and record the staff meetings, attend the clinicals, work on holidays, write daily, weekly and monthly reports and evaluations, and supply all my own materials for part-time wages. Because of my love for the women, I did all that was expected of me at work (and very well I may add), plus cooked dinner, helped out in our home office, taxied the boy to and fro, cared for the puppy and then proceeded to get very sick. Two steps backward. So, I quit the job and took on more hours at our home office. I now volunteer my time with the women (the perfect solution), am working on a writing project and took on some hours at the local health food store. Three steps sideways. Where I'll end up, nobody knows!

A Boy And His Wisdom

The boy was in pain. It's not unusual for something on his body to be hurting since he does everything hard. But this was not an ordinary pain. The whole side of his face hurt. I took him to the dentist and an x-ray revealed an extra tooth growing way back in his jaw behind his wisdom tooth. Off to the oral surgeon this morning we went. Upon further x-rays (and more money) it was determined we had some options. He could remove the upper wisdom tooth to let the little tooth grow, but that would mean removing the lower wisdom tooth so that his bite would not be compromised. This option would only require a few well placed shots of novocain. The other option, surgically remove the extra tooth. This requires general anesthesia, drilling the bone, more risks and of course, more money. The doctor asked what I thought. "Well," I said, "he doesn't actually chew his food anyway, I mean, it's more like gulp and swallow. But on the other hand, removing wisdom from a boy who lacks is never wise (heehee)." Totally not amused by my humor, I asked what he, the surgeon, the one who went to medical school, thought. I might have guessed he chose the option that separated me from the most money. While the boy was coming out of anesthesia I asked, "What is your phone password and do you really like this new girl?" He laughed and asked, "Ma, how much drugs do you think they gave me?" "I see," I said, "they kept your wisdom intact."

Happy New Year!!

Sunday morning, January 1st, my family sat down to eat breakfast. I took out my pen and pad and began to write out New Year's Resolution guidelines. They are as follows:
1. No resolution shall be based on vanity.
2. Honor God with your new commitments.
3. Does your resolution please God or man?
4. Will your resolution move your relationship with God to a higher level?
5. Must be an alliteration (optional).

Our resolutions:

Mom's:
Peace, Patience and Performance (as in spiritual discipline tasks)
Dad's:
Perseverance, Patience and Philanthropy (as in generosity of gestures as well as resources)
Daughter number 1:
Finish Strong, Faith Soars
Daughter number 2:
Memorization, Meditation, Ministering and Mobilization
AND Ring by Spring (as in haha)
Son's:
Pick-up Puppy Poop
AND Muscles by March (as in honoring God with his body in baseball)
The puppy's:
Chill with the Chewing (as in stop chewing up mom's stuff!)

Finally, family resolutions:
Kick the kisses (as in chocolate)
Trash the Technology (as in cell phone/computer/TV/head-phones while together)
Family, Faith, Fun and Fellowship (as in Happy New Year folks)!

Resolved

I want to write New Year's resolutions that are clever and quirky. I want them to rhyme or be an alliteration. I want my children to say, "Oh, Mom you are so witty!" I want my husband to say, "Honey, you are a real crackerjack." I want my friends to be impressed. I want my co-workers to be envious of my obvious intelligence. I want neighbors to smile and wave and shout as I drive by, "You're a fine neighbor!" I want others to try and imitate me. I want to copyright my New Year's resolutions so folks from all over will have to call me to get permission to use them (which, by the way, I will grant with grace and class).

So, this is my resolution:

Resolved, in the year of our Great Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, two-thousand twelve, I will write the best ever New Year's Resolution. That gives me 365 days to come up with it : )

Politically Incorrect - Merry Christmas Rant

Merry Christmas! Can you believe that sometimes feelings are hurt when this is said or not said? I heard a dear Christian woman say, "I don't care what the cashier at Wal-Mart says to me, I am responding 'Merry Christmas' to them. Humph." A holiday greeting should be a greeting stated with love. Yes, folks, LOVE. Let's shout that from the roof tops with good ole' Saint Nick. LOVE. If someone does not want to be merry on Christmas, let it go. If someone wants to wish you a Happy Holiday, for pete's sake, let them. If someone says "Season's Greetings" on your Christmas card, accept the greeting with grace and with love. LOVE. No one can put a political correctness in my heart about Christmas. It is a holiday to celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ, who I believe with all of my heart and soul, is my Lord and Savior and that makes me merry. Merry Christmas! Do I desire for others to share that merriment with me? Yes! How do I do that? I do it with love. LOVE. I wish them a Happy Holiday or Season's Greeting if that is what they want to hear. I don't push my Christmas agenda on them to make a point. It's all about the love. If, as Christians, we can't be kind hearted to others during a season of celebration, if we can't show love and tolerance, then how are we going to draw others close? How are we going to show the love of Jesus. Let's not make the greeting about us, let's make it about the love.

Wishing all of you a sincere Season's Greeting, a Merry Christmas, a Happy Holiday, a message from my heart filled with love and blessings to you and yours.

And The Boy Said...

So, the 17 year old boy comes to me and says, "Ma, can me and my friend go to a motocross track 4 hours away from home, race ATV's all day and then spend the night at a camp ground in the woods?" I carefully thought about it for an entire 4 seconds and said, "No." For the next 3 days he followed me around the house asking me why I was so mean? I told him I used to be nice, I only got mean after I had kids. He tried every trick under the sun to make me and my husband feel guilty for not letting him go. This is the same boy that tried to swim in the ocean in Florida a week ago while there were black flags posted because of a tropical storm off the coast. This the same boy who, being very allergic to blueberries, asked if he could eat one to see what would happen. This is the same boy who wanted to put a motor on his skate board. And this is the same mom who said, "No. No. No." I promised him we would do something really fun instead. The boy asked, "Ma, what are we doing this weekend instead of me going to a really cool motocross race track and racing ATV's for 2 days?" I said, in my best-ever cheery voice, "Oh, boy, we are going to church on Saturday night with the puppy and on Sunday, you're just going to love this, we're all going to go apple picking!" What do you think the boy said? . . .

Hungry Pup

Don't let those puppy dog eyes fool you. This sweet, innocent puppy was guilty . . .
of being hungry for the word of God.
"Your words were found, and I ate them,
And Your word was to me the joy and rejoicing of my heart;
For I am called by Your name, O LORD God of hosts." Jeremiah 15:16
Yep, this pup ate the word. He ate the front and back cover of my Bible, the concordance, a few maps, some essays and a chunk of Genesis. So, I fashioned a new cover using a pizza box and some duct tape. What do you think?



The women at my new job were very impressed. One of them said to me, "Oh, how MacGyver of you!"

Yay me.

Just Sad

Sometimes life is good and sometimes not. It's always hard to see times come to an end. Babies grow into toddlers, who grow into children, who grow into youngsters, who grow into adults. Vacations end, visitors leave, puppies become dogs, kids move away. Families feud, make up and feud again. What is living, dies. What's the point? I think the point is to live well while the living is good. My dear friend is at the end of her life and it saddens my heart. There are still too many things we have to do together. But, during good times and bad, we found a way to laugh. We shared stories and feelings and food and drink. We shared good health and bad health. We shared secrets and prayers and faith and love and joy. We have encouraged each other with God's word. We have agonized over our children, our country and world affairs. We armored up and stripped down. We licked our wounds and stood back up. We are battle scarred. We have seen the enemy but, we have found victory on our knees. It's easier to stand after you've been on your knees. When things seem impossible we remind each other of God's promises and say, "It's a season." There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven: . . . Ecclesiastes 3:1 We have built memories, relationships and bridges. She loves me and I her. She'll go where God calls her, as we all will someday, the only difference is, she does with true peace. Her favorite verse: Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid. John 14:27 I am not afraid my friend, just sad...

"I Ain't Letting No Chinese Dude Hold My Hand" - Conclusion

..."Sorry, Nancy, I don't go into back rooms and disrobe my feet for anybody. It's either out in the open or not at all," I said while digging my tired, un-pampered heels into the ground. "Okay, my chicken little friend, this is my treat to you. We'll do it your way," she replied. I whispered, "Stop calling me chicken little, they're vegetarians." Fast forward 10 minutes: we are now laying back in big cushy chairs, in the front of the parlor, where the receptionist answers the phones and folks come in to get their vegetarian dumplings and herbal teas. Nancy has her head back, is half asleep with her eyes closed and is moaning softly. I had my head back, but with only one eye closed. I kept sweeping the parlor, Nancy, the 2 little Chinese men, the receptionist and the variety of people coming and going with the open eye (just call me Jack Bauer). After 15 minutes, I was bored, so I started talking to Nancy. "Hey, Nance, at the Hershey Park Spa they dip your feet in warm chocolate. I think they dip your hands in warm chocolate too." She said, "Oh, have you been there?" I laughed, "Nancy, have I ever been to any spa??!!" We laughed and talked for the next 45 minutes. It was delightful, after all was said and done. I probably won't ever do something like that again, but I'm happy for the experience. When I came home, my husband asked, "So, how was it?" "Well," I replied, "I didn't let the Chinaman hold my hand." I expected him to question me, but instead, he gave me a peck on the cheek, a pat on the back and said, "That's my girl."

"I Ain't Letting No Chinese Dude Hold My Hand" - Part II

..."I don't know, Nancy...I'm not sure about a reflexology appointment," I said. "Come on friend. It's my treat, it'll be fun," she said. Reluctantly, I agreed to go. We drove to a little whole in the wall, in the next state. We walked in through hanging beads. All I could think was, "How many bodies have passed through these beads?" while looking for my hand sanitizer. This place specializes in messages, vegetarian dumplings (of all things) and Chinese herbs and teas. They also had a huge purple room set aside as a shrine to Buddha (who, by the way, does not have a healthy body image, just saying). Now I am thinking, "What have I gotten myself into!" 2 little Chinese men came out of the back and ask if we want our hands done too. I turned to Nancy and said, "I ain't letting no Chinese dude hold my hand. I only let my husband hold my hand." Nancy laughed. "You're silly," she said to me. To the Chinese men, she said, "Only the feet for my friend." Then, they directed us through more hanging beads (ewww) to the back and told us to go inside separate rooms. "Nuh-uh! I ain't going into a back room with anybody!" Nancy laughed. "You're silly," she said to me. To the Chinese men, she said, "My friend is chicken little." I'm thinking at this point, "Call me whatever you want, but I am putting my un-messaged foot down!" To be continued . . .

"I Ain't Letting No Chinese Dude Hold My Hand" - Part I

A few years ago my daughters decided I was underprivileged because I never had a pedicure. They saved their money and said, "Mother, because you have been the best mother ever, in fact, a mother like no other, (okay, literary license) we have saved our money and are sending you for a pedicure." I was thrilled. Finally, someone else to do my little piggies that spent endless hours running to and from the market. I planned on a meal out at the brick oven Italian restaurant, all by myself, before my pedicure. No one to interrupt my thoughts, no one to serve, no disputes to settle amongst the children - just me, daydreaming, praying, eating a meal without rushing. Sounds lovely, right? Well, it didn't exactly turn out that way. 3 people saw me by myself and wanted to sit with me. 2 actually sat down and ordered drinks before I politely told them to scram. Then, I had to wait 15 minutes for my pedicure "appointment". The water in the tub was so hot I immediately got flushed and had a hot flash. It didn't help that the woman next to me had gross toe fungus or that the sweet Asian women keep on speaking to each other, looking at me and giggling. The nail polish I picked was almost empty, but they used it anyway. 7 toes into my first-ever pedicure the polish ran out and they had to use another bottle of polish that didn't exactly match. Not the professional look I was going for (sheesh, I could have done that). So, when my dear friend called me this week and offered to take me for a reflexology appointment, her treat (because "you are a friend like no other" - she really did say that), I was skeptical . . .

Decision Well Made

"Why aren't you blogging?" many folks asked. My answer has been, "I'm too busy." That's not entirely true. The real reason is that I was not in a great place. Lord knows I like to embellish the truth, or tell the truth in a funny way. I write the truth as I see it, through my lense, which is usually silly (y'all know I can't make this stuff up, right?). It was hard for me to write this summer because we had some heavy things on our minds. I know my friends love me during every season, but they enjoy me more during the good seasons and I like to be a joy to others. So, I didn't write because I wasn't seeing the joy or the silliness. We had decisions to make regarding the boy's final year of high school. He had a great year at the military school and they wanted him back (they offered him scholarships and leadership positions). But the bottom line was he didn't want to be away from home. What was best? Do we send him somewhere we know he'll succeed but would be unhappy OR do we let him stay here and hope and pray he makes good choices? Clean, quiet, empty room at the end of the hall OR messy, noisy, occupied room at the end of the hall? Life up OR life up-side-down? Well, I'd tell you about it, but the boy wants to know if I made his lunch yet, if his pants are dry and if I can pick him up after baseball practice tomorrow. Decision well made.

Here! And here, oh, and here...

My last post I asked, "Where was I anyway?"
Well, I was here...

and here...

and here...

and here... (puppy won "Best of Show")

and finally, here...

and now, I am here. . . sitting in front of the blue glow from my computer screen, losing my tan.