Christmas. Bah humbug! Not really...but sometimes it's so overwhelming that I consider canceling it altogether. As if I could. But what if I could?! What if we could have a winter break from school and work that DIDN'T involve mad-dashes to the Dollar Store to buy gifts for kids' classes and teachers and whoever else the kids forgot to tell us needs gifts? A break that still focused on our Jesus, but NOT on bringing thousands of tinsel-laden objects in from the shed and filling the house with more clutter than was there before? What if there was a way to discontinue the greedy looks in the kids' eyes when they discover a new this-and-that to add to their Santa Wishlist?
Who am I kidding? It's not even about all that above. I'm just tired. I'm tired of everything having to be a little more perfect during the Christmas season. There must be Christmas-themed television programs that I have to find, preview, record and have ready that pleases EVERYONE. There have to be decorations that we MAKE, involving purchases, preparation, messes, and clean-up. What about wrapping? So. Sick. Of wrapping. I'm not really sick of it. I'm just tired.
Why do there have to be nightly finance-meetings between husband and wife...trying to figure out how much to spend on each other, each child; and where will we get the money to cover what's already been bought that we weren't planning on?! And, though you don't want it to be about the money, it just is. Every gift I buy falls short of what each receiver deserves. It's enough to make me want to give up. I don't really want to give up. I'm just tired.
And then some old advice pops in my head. "Kim, when you're feeling blue, serve someone." Serve someone? Isn't that what I'm DOING?! I serve meals, laundry, homework, extra this and extra that! I serve! I'm shopping, baking, signing, and arranging like a mad woman! I'm doing Christmas the best I can!
But am I serving...or simply doing? I do what is expected. I do what needs to be done. I do. So, what's the difference?
Well...serving is going the extra mile. It's considering the joy that my "doing" may bring to those I'm doing for. It's finding the Christmas movies on t.v. and then sitting down to watch them WITH the kids...watching their faces and listening to them laugh. It's finding something funny in those mad-dashes to the store that is creating a memory for each of my children to look back on in their Christmases to come. It's making decorating the house more about MAKING the mess than WORRYING about it. Letting the kids decorate so that they own these moments is more of a joy than worrying about vacuuming up every silver strand that covers the floor. It's about getting creative with the kids' letters to Santa. So, we don't have the money to buy these things....how else can we make their dreams gleam on Christmas morning?!
Doing is...well...doing. Serving is GIVING. It's giving the one thing everyone in my house wants most. Me. They want me to smile and enjoy this Holiday Season with them. It doesn't matter how many gifts rest beneath the perfectly decorated tree if I'm grumpy. It doesn't matter how many snow-flake cookies are iced and delivered to classrooms if I don't stay and enjoy the children I baked them for. They want me.
Moms, if it kills me, I'm going to do it this year. I'm going to ENJOY this Christmas...and that's my gift to my family.
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Friday, October 28, 2011
Scar-Light Scar-Bright
This is my friend Emily. She's 16 years old; loves marching with the flag corp in her high school band; holds straight-A's in all her classes (honors classes!); is active in her church youth group; loves to do community theatre; babysits my children with expertise; and smiles 99% of the time. A few months ago, Emily was in a car accident. She was in the front passenger seat, which took the brunt of the crash. She was pinned in for over an hour and a half. Remembering conversations she heard from the paramedics and firemen cutting her out, she knows they didn't have much hope for her survival.
After being care-flighted to a hospital in Little Rock, she remembers hearing more conversations from doctors and nurses as they assessed her wounds. If she made it through any of the urgent and necessary surgeries, she would surely not walk.
After the first several surgeries and the first few weeks, walking was a possibility. But she could hear the whispers and knew that her right leg may never be able to hold weight again. Walking would mean a walker or brace for the rest of her life.
Emily is 16 years old. She is beautiful. She's been complimented on her beautiful legs all her life. You know those girls we all love to hate who have those perfect legs? That was Emily. Never immodest or boastful, it was just a fact that her legs were awesome. Were awesome.
Emily's pelvis was broken; her legs had around 50 fractures, with breaks that had bones sticking out of her legs at odd places and angles; her right foot was so swollen and misshapen the doctors couldn't accurately assess the damage for several weeks. Her wounds were so raw, she had to be constantly hooked up to a wound-vac, which would suck her wounds clean every few minutes (this made an offensive sound which would cause embarrassment anytime someone was visiting her).
Emily was finally able to come home. She has a cute upstairs bedroom all decked out in girly-girl 16-year-old style. She hasn't seen her room since before the wreck though. The family room has been her bedroom now. It's been curtained off for a semblance of privacy, but curtains do little to shelter Emily from the life going on all around her. She spent the first several weeks at home in her hospital bed, her mom sleeping on the daybed beside her, either asleep or in pain. Even in sleep, there was pain and traumatic nightmares from her emotional injuries.
Her friends came to see her often...to tell her how cool marching band was; how this and that had taken place in so-in-so's class; and even to complain to Emily about their own dramas. Emily has always been the best friend with the most encouragement to give...she's been the shoulder to cry on and the strong arms that have carried her friends through their teen-angst. This seemed to still be expected of her.
Whenever anyone drew back the curtain and entered the makeshift bedroom, Emily would paint on a smile and endure hugs and visits...because she is determined to make everyone feel comfortable.
Emily is 16-years-old. At this age, girls don't talk of thinks like passing gas, bowel movements, or shaving unmentionable areas. Emily's life had taken a wrong turn however, and now she was equipped with a porta-potty beside her hospital bed and all manner of medications and apparatus in the room around her for all to see when they'd stop in for a hello. And, yet, this seemed to amuse Emily more than anyone else.
After more weeks of working through pain, Emily was able to maneuver around in a wheel chair. Where did she go? To her high school Homecoming, of course. She cared more for her friends than for herself that night. She couldn't join in all the regular activities, but cheered her friends on all the same.
She also attended a Halloween party...dressed as a marathon runner!
Her right foot began to finally heal, though the process has been very slow and painful.
Emily has fought through months of painful physical therapy to overcome all the odds. The swelling in her right foot went down enough for surgery; and then was even able to be put into a walking-boot. She cannot walk on it...yet! But she's not giving up. Against all the doctor's predictions, she is not only walking now (with the help of a scooter), but she is already flexing her right foot with plans of walking into her high school to join regular classes in January.
What does Emily say about her once-perfect-legs now? She owns every scar. She sees them as proof of her survival and she dares anyone to see them as anything less than beautiful. Isn't that how we should all feel? Don't we all have scars? Even stretch-marks...from beautiful births. We should own them. They are proof of survival. Just as Jesus' scars are proof of our redemption. Scars and beautiful.
Emily is still beautiful. More so, I believe, than ever before. By the way, even doing her honors classes from home with no help, she's maintaining her A-average. She's still giving her friends good advice. She's still attending church on Sunday mornings. Emily has changed only for the better since this accident. She told me it's a choice. No one and nothing can make your life miserable but you. And miserable is something Emily will never be.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Togo
Mark and I left the next morning without the children! Maggie, Phoenix, and Luke stayed at Grandmother and Granddad's house for the first time by themselves! Yikes!
We headed to Minnesota. It took us all day, but we finally arrived at Flaming Pines! Who's been?
I can't tell much about this camp because I was suffering from a little migraine that night (Probably from all the blubbering I did after leaving our babies behind). But I can say that I enjoyed meeting up with my cousins Paul and Robin! Woo-Hoo!
Mark spent a great evening with not only prospective students, but with quite a few who are already enrolled to come this Fall!
IT'S GREAT TO BE AT HARDING!!
We headed to Minnesota. It took us all day, but we finally arrived at Flaming Pines! Who's been?
I can't tell much about this camp because I was suffering from a little migraine that night (Probably from all the blubbering I did after leaving our babies behind). But I can say that I enjoyed meeting up with my cousins Paul and Robin! Woo-Hoo!
Mark spent a great evening with not only prospective students, but with quite a few who are already enrolled to come this Fall!
IT'S GREAT TO BE AT HARDING!!
Brighton
Our next stop was Midwest Bible Camp (MWBC). But, on our way, we drove through St. Louis. Mark knew of a cool transportation museum and wanted to show the kids, but we were pressed for time. We went ahead and stopped and just enjoyed all the neat items outside instead of taking a tour. It was fun!
Next was Brighton, Iowa. Who's been to MWBC? This is the camp Mark grew up going to and being a part of. Maggie will go next summer! It was a lot of fun. (And a shout-out to Laura and Molly...my Iowa peeps!)
We enjoyed "playing" with old friends and then listening to Mark's talk.
(Everyone who's ever been a part of MWBC knows my husband is a legend for singing "Low Budget"...these young campers requested a private performance. :)
After camp, we drove to Muscatine where we met up with Mark's parents at church and enjoyed their VBS!
Finally we got to go to Nichols and spend the night with Granddad and Grandmother. We were so ready for a comfortable bed!
IT'S GREAT TO BE AT HARDING!!
Next was Brighton, Iowa. Who's been to MWBC? This is the camp Mark grew up going to and being a part of. Maggie will go next summer! It was a lot of fun. (And a shout-out to Laura and Molly...my Iowa peeps!)
We enjoyed "playing" with old friends and then listening to Mark's talk.
(Everyone who's ever been a part of MWBC knows my husband is a legend for singing "Low Budget"...these young campers requested a private performance. :)
After camp, we drove to Muscatine where we met up with Mark's parents at church and enjoyed their VBS!
Finally we got to go to Nichols and spend the night with Granddad and Grandmother. We were so ready for a comfortable bed!
IT'S GREAT TO BE AT HARDING!!
Monday, August 15, 2011
Rolla
This summer, the kids and I got to go with Mark on his Mammoth Trip. Every year, he travels through "his" states recruiting for Harding. The kids and I went this year and had a blast! Part-way through the trip, we dropped the kids off in Iowa at Mark's parents' house and he and I went on by ourselves. It was a trip full of adventure!
Our first stop was Little Prairie Bible Camp in Rolla, Missouri. Who's been? I never had. It was a nice place full of nice people. The minute we opened our car doors and stepped into the heat, we almost melted. It was a grueling 116 degrees (at 6:00 in the evening)!
Despite the heat, however, Mark was in his element. He jumped right in and started playing a little b-ball (knock-out!) with the campers.
While he played, we sat in front of a gigantic fan and tried to stay cool. (Thanks, Josh, for the popsicles!!)
We were surprised when Mark was asked to lead chapel, which he did very well. I began to appreciate my husband anew and see a side of him I don't often get to see.
IT'S GREAT TO BE AT HARDING!!
Our first stop was Little Prairie Bible Camp in Rolla, Missouri. Who's been? I never had. It was a nice place full of nice people. The minute we opened our car doors and stepped into the heat, we almost melted. It was a grueling 116 degrees (at 6:00 in the evening)!
Despite the heat, however, Mark was in his element. He jumped right in and started playing a little b-ball (knock-out!) with the campers.
While he played, we sat in front of a gigantic fan and tried to stay cool. (Thanks, Josh, for the popsicles!!)
We were surprised when Mark was asked to lead chapel, which he did very well. I began to appreciate my husband anew and see a side of him I don't often get to see.
IT'S GREAT TO BE AT HARDING!!
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Romance vs. Reality (Part One)
I am a writer. I actually love to write the romance view to extremes. I, in fact, am a romantic at heart. However this can be a huge roadblock in enjoying real life. I'm not talking about the Harlequin paperbacks that lead one to believe that all women are perfectly shaped and all men are rascals until their eyes fall on that perfect woman...and then they're reformed and wonderful, bla bla bla. No...surely we all know that's hooey.
I'm talking about how we word things, or more how we see things. I like to read about other people's experiences. Yay for modern technology...FaceBook, Blogspot, etc... I am able to see into others lives in ways that I never could before. Yes. I am nosy. Well, more to the point, I'm interested. And I get caught up in reading about how so-n-so went to the beach and laid on a soft towel, soaked up the sun, read three novels, and relaxed wonderfully.
I start thinking, I want to go to the beach!! But do I? I mean, yes it's fun. But I need to think about the reality of it...the sand that gets in those oh-so-uncomfortable places; the sunburns; the heat; did I mention the sand? Add that into the experience and it becomes reality. Still a great vacation...but not so "perfect" see?
The same can be said for camping. The fresh air, the scenery, nature...ah! AND, the bugs, the critters, the lack of plumbing.....
Taking this a bit deeper, I seem to "romance" other families. I see how "perfect" some families are. The children are well-behaved; the mom is smiling and trim and stylish; the dad is present and happy and ironed. How do they do it?!
In reality, they do it with a lot of hard work! The mom has to catch up on sleep every chance she gets and pray a lot to keep that smile on her face. The stylish clothes come from hard work and penny-pinching. The children are well-behaved because of many disciplinary moments...many crying and arguing moments...many fit-throwing moments. The dad is present because he has learned to sacrifice and re-prioritize. He had to get up and iron his own shirt this morning, but did it because he knows his wife needed those few extra minutes to sleep. That's the reality of it.
I don't really know what my point is....this is me just rambling and sharing thoughts I haven't organized yet. But, for those of us romantics out there, life can get depressing if we don't force ourselves to take off the rose-colored glasses and see things as they really are. We romantics are often afraid to do that because giving up the dream of wanting things to be perfect might mean finally realizing things are NOT.
What I've pleasantly found is that the not-perfect world is so much more likeable!!
Thursday, June 23, 2011
It's a Cinch to Pinch
~Money-Saving Tips for Those Who are Serious About Saving Money~
During the Great Depression, and for some time after, women shared ways to scrimp and save in order to bring peace and quality to their homes and home-lives. It used to be the woman's job to make sure there was enough food on the table, the clothes were always fresh, ironed, mended, and that the children were trained, the husbands were happy, and the house was clean. It used to be that women took pride in such things.
When did that stop?
When did it become all about keeping up with the Joneses? Sometime between then and now, it became taboo to talk about cutting corners or sacrificing in order to provide essentials for your home and family. It became insensitive to assume that it was simply the woman's job to smooth out material, emotional, and financial wrinkles. Women began sharing the latest fashions, home-designs, and fads. Talk of how hard things can be was replaced with talk of the latest in trends.
I was born in the wrong era.
I do take pride in "running" our household. Mark is a hard worker outside the home and it stands to reason that I should be a hard worker FOR our home! This job is dirty, sweaty, tearful, exhausting, and so rewarding it often stuns me.
So...taboo, or not...for those of you Housewives out there gleaning all you can in order to provide the best for your family, here ya go:
1. Only buy one box of dishwashing detergent per month (or two months...our family is large enough to dirty dishes quite plentifully). If/When you run out before the month is out, wash by hand! You heard me!
2. Always make a list before going to the store and STICK TO THE LIST (and don't go to the store hungry)!! Also, before making that list, get creative. Go through your pantry and see if there's anything in there that could do for a casserole, soup, etc... You'd be surprised what might please your family that you find in the back of your freezer!
3. Curb the desire to buy new clothes unless you NEED them! If something is just a tad too small, try exercising a little more for one week. Just one week will bring the waistline more comfort. Wearing the same dress to church two Sundays in a row is NOT the end of the world. Simplify your wardrobe; it's possible to be sensible and fashionable if you are diligent and frugal! Be proud that you're saving money! If you must buy something, try first to find it at a second-hand shop. Not only do you save a bundle, but these shops are often profiting wonderful causes. (My favorite in Searcy is Paws Inn. Clothing is only a quarter and if you feel like splurging, there's handmade jewelry for fifty cents! Money goes to building a shelter for animals.)
That's it for now. I have tons more, so this isn't last on this subject! I'd love to hear your own ideas for saving! Share!!
During the Great Depression, and for some time after, women shared ways to scrimp and save in order to bring peace and quality to their homes and home-lives. It used to be the woman's job to make sure there was enough food on the table, the clothes were always fresh, ironed, mended, and that the children were trained, the husbands were happy, and the house was clean. It used to be that women took pride in such things.
When did that stop?
When did it become all about keeping up with the Joneses? Sometime between then and now, it became taboo to talk about cutting corners or sacrificing in order to provide essentials for your home and family. It became insensitive to assume that it was simply the woman's job to smooth out material, emotional, and financial wrinkles. Women began sharing the latest fashions, home-designs, and fads. Talk of how hard things can be was replaced with talk of the latest in trends.
I was born in the wrong era.
I do take pride in "running" our household. Mark is a hard worker outside the home and it stands to reason that I should be a hard worker FOR our home! This job is dirty, sweaty, tearful, exhausting, and so rewarding it often stuns me.
So...taboo, or not...for those of you Housewives out there gleaning all you can in order to provide the best for your family, here ya go:
1. Only buy one box of dishwashing detergent per month (or two months...our family is large enough to dirty dishes quite plentifully). If/When you run out before the month is out, wash by hand! You heard me!
2. Always make a list before going to the store and STICK TO THE LIST (and don't go to the store hungry)!! Also, before making that list, get creative. Go through your pantry and see if there's anything in there that could do for a casserole, soup, etc... You'd be surprised what might please your family that you find in the back of your freezer!
3. Curb the desire to buy new clothes unless you NEED them! If something is just a tad too small, try exercising a little more for one week. Just one week will bring the waistline more comfort. Wearing the same dress to church two Sundays in a row is NOT the end of the world. Simplify your wardrobe; it's possible to be sensible and fashionable if you are diligent and frugal! Be proud that you're saving money! If you must buy something, try first to find it at a second-hand shop. Not only do you save a bundle, but these shops are often profiting wonderful causes. (My favorite in Searcy is Paws Inn. Clothing is only a quarter and if you feel like splurging, there's handmade jewelry for fifty cents! Money goes to building a shelter for animals.)
That's it for now. I have tons more, so this isn't last on this subject! I'd love to hear your own ideas for saving! Share!!
Monday, June 20, 2011
Heaven
When I was a little girl, I used to like to imagine what Heaven will be like. In my young mind, I fantasized about castles, crowns, green hills, and laughter.
When I was a bit older and thinking about what Heaven must be like, I referred to scripture and tried to wrap my mind around singing angels, golden streets, and pearled gates.
When I became a wife and mother, I had a certainty in my heart that Heaven holds all that is right and good. I just simply knew, without having to exert imagination, that Heaven is beautiful and peaceful.
In the past few years, I've experienced earthly loss. I literally watched my daddy take his last breath as he stepped over from this world and into the angels' arms. I've felt pain, grief, devastation...but also peace, comfort, and relief. The passing of our loved ones from this life into the Next is hurtful in only a worldly way. It is also a celebration our hearts can't fully comprehend. A joy that is not quite yet complete.
I have begun now to think of Heaven as home. It is my home...it is being prepared for me. In all of our travels, some have reached that destination before me and as I picture what Heaven must be like, I think of castles, crowns, green hills, and laughter...singing angels, golden streets, pearled gates...righteousness, goodness, beauty, peace...and I see all of those loved ones there amongst it all.
One day, I'll be there too. What joy!!
Friday, June 3, 2011
Hot Woman on a Hot Day
Yesterday morning, the kids and I spent an hour in Spring Park enjoying (enjoying?) a small petting zoo. It was 95 degrees, but the kids didn't seem to mind as much as I did. My clothes were sticking to me and I wondered at the wisdom in wearing denim capris. As I longed for cotton shorts, I noticed a girl standing a few feet from me. I'm no longer any good at judging a gal's age...this woman could've been 20 or 40. But, at any rate, she had to be hot!
When I say hot, I do not imply that she was good-looking, though she may have been. I couldn't look at her face because of my shock in her attire. On a hot day, I am used to being assaulted by the indecency of women all around me. Hot weather seems to be permission to show as much skin as possible in any gathering. This was a gathering primarily of mamas and children, and yet, on some women, there was more skin than material showing.
This girl, however, was not in that category at all. I remind you it was 95 degrees, sticky, without as much as a small breeze, and somehow the smell of the animals seemed to add to the heat. This girl was dressed in a sweatshirt and blue jeans, that were tucked into fur-lined boots. I couldn't take my eyes off her. As my children passed by her, I wanted to shield them, for surely she was running a temperature! What was WRONG with her?!
She appeared very relaxed and comfortable. It was some sort of magic that she worked. While the rest of us, moderate to scantily clad women were damp and red-faced, this bundled up anomaly simply stood by herself with a contented look about her.
I did enjoy the look on my kids' faces as they took a ride on the Shetland pony (named Popsicles) and fed the ducks, bunnies, and goat. But this oddly dressed young woman took the prize for capturing my attention above all else.
Against my prophecies, she did not suffer heat stroke, nor did she have so much as one bead of sweat on her brow the last time I risked a glance her way. That woman most assuredly practices wizardry and I found myself rathering to look in the direction of the women in short-shorts and too-tight-tanks...looking at the sweat-less sweathshirted girl made me sweat even more!
Friday, May 6, 2011
Desperate Housewives
Housewives are sometimes mistaken for lazy women who simply don't want to "work." If you are a housewife, then you don't hold a job. Your job is to stay home and watch soap operas. Right? You aren't out there earning your keep and contributing to society. And you must have TONS of time on your hands. You simply sweep a broom and load the dishwasher.
Housewives are becoming extinct because of this stereotypical impression society has placed upon them. Being a housewife is no longer a title held in pride; a position known to be very productive. You are no longer considered to be doing your part, or even ENOUGH, for your family if "all you do" is stay home all day....letting your husband do all the "work."
I'd like to dispel this injuring thought process. Being a housewife is one of the toughest, most noble positions in the history of time. Being a housewife is an honor and should be taken very seriously. It's not glamorous. It's not easy. It's not even fun some of the time. But it's worthy.
To answer that age-old question, "Do you work, or do you stay home?".....
If you see me on Sunday morning at church, you might noticed the slight smell of house-cleaning-spray I surely still have all about me. And, if my dress allows, you'll notice red, sore knees. Saturdays, I try to clean our floors. I also try to wash our HUGE dog. My whole body gets doused in a lot of different soaps and solvents and it takes a good 24 hours for it to finally disappear.
If you see me on Monday, you might notice my lack of motivation. It's not because it's Monday. I love Mondays. They are like a new page in a journal or the first day all the birds come back for Spring. New. Fresh. Mondays have an air of, "Okay, forget last week; we can do it RIGHT this week!" But since Sundays are so peaceful and restful, it takes my half-closed eyes and lazy smile a good 24 hours to perk back up.
If you see me on Tuesday, you will surely notice the smell of fabric softener and also my chipped, broken fingernails. Monday's the big laundry day. I catch up on anything that needs folding and put away; I wash anything that's "important" for upcoming events; I make sure everyone has the essentials for the week, etc... Material is very hard on fingernails. It softens them and softens them until, by the end of the day, they are cracking and breaking. It takes a good 24 hours for them to thicken and strengthen back up.
If you see me on Wednesday, you'll no-doubt notice I'm a little hunched over. Tuesday's clean-the-bathrooms day. My back inevitably goes out every time I scrub the bathtub. It's just part of the deal. It takes a good 24 hours for it to work the kinks out and straighten back up.
If you see me on Thursday, you'll see a smile on my face and might also notice my slightly blue fingernails. Wednesday is clean-the-kitchen day. I love a sparkling kitchen. I also use a Brillo pad that oozes blue cleaner. The pads do wonders on my cabinets and sink. But it takes a good 24 hours for me to get it all out from under my nails.
If you see me on Friday, you will see tiredness in my eyes and may notice that I favor my right arm slightly. Thursdays, I clean the living room and den. This involves three ceiling fans, lots of vacuuming, and moving the furniture around to get every little dust bunny. Being right-handed, I use my right arm to muscle the big stuff and lug the vacuum cleaner. It takes a good 24 hours to work out the soreness.
If you see me on Saturday, I will be winding down from a busy week. I may not carry any outward signs of busyness on Saturday, but there's a new inner-peace. Friday's clean the bedroom day. I always sleep better in a clean bedroom. It will take no less than 24 hours for it to need another straightening, but for that 24 hours, I am at peace.
I love being a housewife and I take that job-title very seriously. There are more times than I'd like to count when I've had to take "time off" of work for sickness, trips, school events, etc... Playing catch-up is stressful. I'm tired every day and EXHAUSTED every night. I seem always to miss washing someone's favorite something. The rooms I so lovingly scrub are always in need of a desperate scrubbing again before their day arrives in the week. But I love it. I thank God I'm a woman and that He allows me the responsibility of being a housewife. What an honor. What a joy!
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Joy in All Things
Our little family has decided to study the fruits of the Spirit very slowly and closely. We're going in order. April we studied Love and May we're studying Joy. I told the children this morning as we were getting ready for our day that we need to find a way to see Joy in every situation!
Soon after that instruction, Maggie turned to me and said, "Mama, is my neck red? Because it itches!" Red? Good grief, it was a rash from chin to bellybutton. I told her we'd talk to her school nurse and see if there was anything she could tell us about recent activities at school, etc.
The dog had gotten out of the yard and wouldn't come when the kids called. We were pretty close to being on time but any doggy shenanigans would put us behind. I told the kids to go in the house and finish getting ready while I got the dog in. The stupid dog.
She'd sit very still until I got to her and then she'd leap in the air and run to another yard. We did this way too long, four yards worth, and I must admit I was getting way past angry. Stupid, stupid dog!! I was dressed, wearing nice shoes, hair up, pearl necklace on, and I was treading through muddy yards yelling at a dog. Joy.
I finally gave up and walked into the house. I looked down as I was closing the door and she was right behind me. She just sweetly followed me in like everything was fine. ARGH!
The kids had been watching the commotion from the window instead of getting ready. I had to rush to get shoes on kids, backpacks, jackets, and shoo everyone out the door.
The school nurse said I should take Maggie to the doctor; she was already late for school and it would be fine if she just went ahead and missed today. So, I took the boys to school, called the doctor, and just drove right over to be worked in. Allergies. Something topical, bla bla bla.
So, she felt fine and I could've sent her to school anyway, but here I had a doctor's note saying she was excused for how ever long it took to get rid of the rash, if she chose to stay home during the rash.
I had to go buy milk, get her medicine (which cost way more than we'd budgeted for the month's medicine), and also had to go to the library to return books. I didn't expect to have an eight-year-old in tow as I ran my errands.
Joy.
I heard the word in my head as clear as if it had been spoken aloud. Hadn't I been praying for more opportunities to spend time with Maggie? The boys demand so much attention that I don't often have any time to give Maggie other than, "Take a bath," "clean your room," "do your homework," etc...
Joy, indeed! We took our time at the store and even more time at the library. We laughed like schoolgirls (well, she IS a schoolgirl) and snacked mid-morning (how very rebellious of us!).
We got Maisy (the stupid dog) a toy, in hopes of luring her to the door next time she got out of the yard. It has worked so far!!
What a day of joy this has already been...and it's not even noon!
Soon after that instruction, Maggie turned to me and said, "Mama, is my neck red? Because it itches!" Red? Good grief, it was a rash from chin to bellybutton. I told her we'd talk to her school nurse and see if there was anything she could tell us about recent activities at school, etc.
The dog had gotten out of the yard and wouldn't come when the kids called. We were pretty close to being on time but any doggy shenanigans would put us behind. I told the kids to go in the house and finish getting ready while I got the dog in. The stupid dog.
She'd sit very still until I got to her and then she'd leap in the air and run to another yard. We did this way too long, four yards worth, and I must admit I was getting way past angry. Stupid, stupid dog!! I was dressed, wearing nice shoes, hair up, pearl necklace on, and I was treading through muddy yards yelling at a dog. Joy.
I finally gave up and walked into the house. I looked down as I was closing the door and she was right behind me. She just sweetly followed me in like everything was fine. ARGH!
The kids had been watching the commotion from the window instead of getting ready. I had to rush to get shoes on kids, backpacks, jackets, and shoo everyone out the door.
The school nurse said I should take Maggie to the doctor; she was already late for school and it would be fine if she just went ahead and missed today. So, I took the boys to school, called the doctor, and just drove right over to be worked in. Allergies. Something topical, bla bla bla.
So, she felt fine and I could've sent her to school anyway, but here I had a doctor's note saying she was excused for how ever long it took to get rid of the rash, if she chose to stay home during the rash.
I had to go buy milk, get her medicine (which cost way more than we'd budgeted for the month's medicine), and also had to go to the library to return books. I didn't expect to have an eight-year-old in tow as I ran my errands.
Joy.
I heard the word in my head as clear as if it had been spoken aloud. Hadn't I been praying for more opportunities to spend time with Maggie? The boys demand so much attention that I don't often have any time to give Maggie other than, "Take a bath," "clean your room," "do your homework," etc...
Joy, indeed! We took our time at the store and even more time at the library. We laughed like schoolgirls (well, she IS a schoolgirl) and snacked mid-morning (how very rebellious of us!).
We got Maisy (the stupid dog) a toy, in hopes of luring her to the door next time she got out of the yard. It has worked so far!!
What a day of joy this has already been...and it's not even noon!
Sunday, May 1, 2011
I Am What I Read
I wish I could say that I'm of strong enough character to remain true to myself no matter what. However...I am what I read. Not only that, plots are like a drug to me. And I'm only just realizing this. Let me explain.
When I read the Joann Fluke mysteries, I bake. A lot. The main character in her books is a fun-loving woman who runs a bakery. There are recipes included between chapters and I find myself humming away in the kitchen during most afternoons after having read a few pages of Fluke's new Lake Eden mishaps. I only recently noticed this. I find myself motivated to try new cookies, pastries, etc...and I'm usually in a sunny disposition.
When I read Barbara Colley's mysteries, I clean. A lot. The main character in her books is a no-nonsense maid who's pulled herself up from tragedy, as a single mom, and now owns her own housecleaning business. She is frugal and efficient. She is very self-disciplined and finds a way to serve those around her by using her talents with rubber gloves and a mop. After just a few chapters of Colley's book, I find myself placing my feet firmly on the ground early in the mornings and having a load of laundry and a load of dishes both started before sitting down to my morning cup of energy. I only recently noticed this. I am motivated to get all the housework done without distraction and take pride in my work! I am often exhausted by the end of the day, but with an immense self-satisfaction.
When I read Carol O'Connel's mysteries, I am dark. Excessively. The main character in her books is a cynical female cop who was once a street-orphan and has endured countless heart-tearing tragedies. She trusts no one and is in pursuit of her own gratifying justice, which usually involves the huge gun she carries. When enjoying these books, I find myself seeing the darkness in most situations. I become cynical and sarcastic and often become cold and calculating toward my daily routine, and anyone involved in my daily routine. I only recently noticed this. I am often motivated to stick my nose in other people's business to offer my own negative opinions and am disgruntled when my opinions aren't taken to heart.
When I read Alexander McCall Smith's mysteries, I am always upbeat. The main character in his books is a "traditionally built" African woman who believes in herself when no one else does. She is independent and sees the very best in people. She longs to serve others and is very wise when dealing with the problems of those around her. When engrossed in these pages, I find myself seeing the truth behind people's selfish actions and love them through whatever struggles they are going through. I don't feel the need to burden anyone near me. I am confident and ready to take on the world...with kindness, instead of vengeance. I only recently noticed this. I seem to be self-sufficient and very strong in my character.
You get the idea. I could go on, but...again... You get the idea.
So, can you imagine what happens when I read God's word? I bet you can. The main character in this book is a supernatural being beyond anyone you or I could imagine. He is love; He is light; He is all-knowing; He is enough. When I read His Word daily, I find myself motivated to give; to love; to live right; to smile. I only recently noticed this. I find meaning and purpose and fulfillment and am not swayed in my knowledge and faith in Him. He is everything. And I long to simply live in His light.
It's important that I am careful what I read. Very important. Perhaps I'm the only one who has this weird quirk. But I do. And, because I do, I must make sure I'm reading more Bible than anything else in order to balance the reality of who I am (and WHOSE I am) with that of fiction.
When I read the Joann Fluke mysteries, I bake. A lot. The main character in her books is a fun-loving woman who runs a bakery. There are recipes included between chapters and I find myself humming away in the kitchen during most afternoons after having read a few pages of Fluke's new Lake Eden mishaps. I only recently noticed this. I find myself motivated to try new cookies, pastries, etc...and I'm usually in a sunny disposition.
When I read Barbara Colley's mysteries, I clean. A lot. The main character in her books is a no-nonsense maid who's pulled herself up from tragedy, as a single mom, and now owns her own housecleaning business. She is frugal and efficient. She is very self-disciplined and finds a way to serve those around her by using her talents with rubber gloves and a mop. After just a few chapters of Colley's book, I find myself placing my feet firmly on the ground early in the mornings and having a load of laundry and a load of dishes both started before sitting down to my morning cup of energy. I only recently noticed this. I am motivated to get all the housework done without distraction and take pride in my work! I am often exhausted by the end of the day, but with an immense self-satisfaction.
When I read Carol O'Connel's mysteries, I am dark. Excessively. The main character in her books is a cynical female cop who was once a street-orphan and has endured countless heart-tearing tragedies. She trusts no one and is in pursuit of her own gratifying justice, which usually involves the huge gun she carries. When enjoying these books, I find myself seeing the darkness in most situations. I become cynical and sarcastic and often become cold and calculating toward my daily routine, and anyone involved in my daily routine. I only recently noticed this. I am often motivated to stick my nose in other people's business to offer my own negative opinions and am disgruntled when my opinions aren't taken to heart.
When I read Alexander McCall Smith's mysteries, I am always upbeat. The main character in his books is a "traditionally built" African woman who believes in herself when no one else does. She is independent and sees the very best in people. She longs to serve others and is very wise when dealing with the problems of those around her. When engrossed in these pages, I find myself seeing the truth behind people's selfish actions and love them through whatever struggles they are going through. I don't feel the need to burden anyone near me. I am confident and ready to take on the world...with kindness, instead of vengeance. I only recently noticed this. I seem to be self-sufficient and very strong in my character.
You get the idea. I could go on, but...again... You get the idea.
So, can you imagine what happens when I read God's word? I bet you can. The main character in this book is a supernatural being beyond anyone you or I could imagine. He is love; He is light; He is all-knowing; He is enough. When I read His Word daily, I find myself motivated to give; to love; to live right; to smile. I only recently noticed this. I find meaning and purpose and fulfillment and am not swayed in my knowledge and faith in Him. He is everything. And I long to simply live in His light.
It's important that I am careful what I read. Very important. Perhaps I'm the only one who has this weird quirk. But I do. And, because I do, I must make sure I'm reading more Bible than anything else in order to balance the reality of who I am (and WHOSE I am) with that of fiction.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
The Monsters in Disguise
I wonder how many of you out there realize there are monsters walking around beside you in your everyday life. These are people who are angry, irrational, rude, mean, and sometimes violent. I'm one of these monsters.
Without the aid of what I call my "Happy Pills," I am indeed a monster of great proportions. We're talking hairy face, long fangs, sharp claws...the works. Doctors call it depression with an emphasis on anger. I call it a pain in the neck. If I miss so much as one dose, I'm in danger of exploding. As long as I'm faithful, the pharmacy is faithful, the doctor's office is faithful...all goes well. But one little slip-up and I'm a freaking catastrophe.
There was one of these said slip-ups recently. If I refill my medicine too early, the insurance won't cover it. There's this small window of time during which I can refill it, have it covered, and keep everyone safe from harm. I must've gotten it refilled late last time because I had to wait until the very day I ran out to get the refill this time.
It's usually not a big deal, especially since I ran out in the middle of the week. Everyone's still working...no holidays or weekends to wait through. I just ran to the pharmacy and asked for a refill.
Well.
The doctor requires you to come in for an evaluation every year or so. On the prescription bottle, you see a little date at the bottom that explains you may have "x" number of refills until such-n-such date, at which time you will have to go in for that evaluation. Somehow, I'd let that time lapse WITHOUT the ever-loving evaluation. My doctor knows me very well and I can usually just call him and say, "I'm still mad as a hatter. Refill?" And it's all okay.
This time the pharmacy assured me it would be no problem for them to the call the doctor and have it all ready for me by the afternoon.
It wasn't.
And it still wasn't ready the next day.
Life goes on around us, with or without monster-preventing medication and that's exactly what happened this time. Life. There were things that needed attending to and these things completely took my mind off of the pharmacy for a few days. We headed into the weekend and then, my friends, all bets were off on me making it through unscathed.
I absolutely melted down. I don't exactly know why, but something made me start yelling and I'm pretty sure I didn't stop for 24 hours or so. Yelling. Crying. Yelling. Crying. Yelling some more. My poor family.
The fire coming out of the top of my head was NOT the Holy Spirit and only caused anyone close to me to burn horribly. I was a monster.
Well, I called my doctor's office and they told me NEVER to depend on the pharmacy to refill this delicate of a medication and I had that medication in my hands within a few hours. The monster is buried deep within me once again.
But I know it's there. And that's what bothers me. Without medication, I am none of the things my husband loves about me. Without medication, I am not even accessible to my children. Without medication, I forget God is here and ready to help me.
I hate the monster. I will live with it and fight it every day of my life. But I will never love it.
There are monsters walking among us. I'm one of those monsters.
Without the aid of what I call my "Happy Pills," I am indeed a monster of great proportions. We're talking hairy face, long fangs, sharp claws...the works. Doctors call it depression with an emphasis on anger. I call it a pain in the neck. If I miss so much as one dose, I'm in danger of exploding. As long as I'm faithful, the pharmacy is faithful, the doctor's office is faithful...all goes well. But one little slip-up and I'm a freaking catastrophe.
There was one of these said slip-ups recently. If I refill my medicine too early, the insurance won't cover it. There's this small window of time during which I can refill it, have it covered, and keep everyone safe from harm. I must've gotten it refilled late last time because I had to wait until the very day I ran out to get the refill this time.
It's usually not a big deal, especially since I ran out in the middle of the week. Everyone's still working...no holidays or weekends to wait through. I just ran to the pharmacy and asked for a refill.
Well.
The doctor requires you to come in for an evaluation every year or so. On the prescription bottle, you see a little date at the bottom that explains you may have "x" number of refills until such-n-such date, at which time you will have to go in for that evaluation. Somehow, I'd let that time lapse WITHOUT the ever-loving evaluation. My doctor knows me very well and I can usually just call him and say, "I'm still mad as a hatter. Refill?" And it's all okay.
This time the pharmacy assured me it would be no problem for them to the call the doctor and have it all ready for me by the afternoon.
It wasn't.
And it still wasn't ready the next day.
Life goes on around us, with or without monster-preventing medication and that's exactly what happened this time. Life. There were things that needed attending to and these things completely took my mind off of the pharmacy for a few days. We headed into the weekend and then, my friends, all bets were off on me making it through unscathed.
I absolutely melted down. I don't exactly know why, but something made me start yelling and I'm pretty sure I didn't stop for 24 hours or so. Yelling. Crying. Yelling. Crying. Yelling some more. My poor family.
The fire coming out of the top of my head was NOT the Holy Spirit and only caused anyone close to me to burn horribly. I was a monster.
Well, I called my doctor's office and they told me NEVER to depend on the pharmacy to refill this delicate of a medication and I had that medication in my hands within a few hours. The monster is buried deep within me once again.
But I know it's there. And that's what bothers me. Without medication, I am none of the things my husband loves about me. Without medication, I am not even accessible to my children. Without medication, I forget God is here and ready to help me.
I hate the monster. I will live with it and fight it every day of my life. But I will never love it.
There are monsters walking among us. I'm one of those monsters.
Monday, April 11, 2011
Entertaining Guests
Saturday evening we had our good friends, the Toyes, over for dinner. This was a WONDERFUL time of visiting and playing and laughing. However, dinner was not what I expected at ALL!
I consider myself to be a somewhat okay cook. I enjoy cooking and often experiment on dishes. I learned long ago NOT to make an experimental dish when cooking for company. So, fighting the urge to be creative, I decided to make "Chicken Stuff" (this is our family's variation on "Poppy-seed Chicken"), rice, and mixed veggies. Simple, right? I've been making this meal for years. I could do it blindfolded, in the woods, while on medication. Perfect plan for company. It's yummy, and I don't have to worry about glitches.
There were glitches.
I was in the middle of making the chicken dish when I realized I was out of one of the ingredients! This is a staple in my pantry that I'm NEVER without! Good grief. Well, some substitution did the trick and I was back on track. Then, I accidentally mixed two kinds of rice together so that half didn't cook at all and the other half OVER-cooked!! AAAAGH! Who can't make rice?! I've been making rice for years and years!! Good! Grief!
This threw me into such a tizzy that I completely forgot to put the vegetables on at all until just a few minutes before our friends' arrival. *sigh* I put them on, but they didn't get soft enough for my liking. I was so utterly deflated that I forgot at this point to even SEASON the rice and vegetables! Gross!
I served everything anyway and everyone was gracious...it just shows I'll never be prideful about my cooking!! Never!
Stupid rice.
At least dessert was perfect. That's probably because it hadn't encountered my kitchen. Kim Toye brought it from HER kitchen. Thanks, Kim. That peach pie saved the evening! :)
Well, this is what becomes of going so long without entertaining. Mark and I love to have people over, but we haven't done it since moving to Searcy. Now, we're getting back into it! I'm so excited! Obviously, I'll need lots of practice before we're any GOOD at it...but we're not giving up!
Now...who will our next victims be?...
I consider myself to be a somewhat okay cook. I enjoy cooking and often experiment on dishes. I learned long ago NOT to make an experimental dish when cooking for company. So, fighting the urge to be creative, I decided to make "Chicken Stuff" (this is our family's variation on "Poppy-seed Chicken"), rice, and mixed veggies. Simple, right? I've been making this meal for years. I could do it blindfolded, in the woods, while on medication. Perfect plan for company. It's yummy, and I don't have to worry about glitches.
There were glitches.
I was in the middle of making the chicken dish when I realized I was out of one of the ingredients! This is a staple in my pantry that I'm NEVER without! Good grief. Well, some substitution did the trick and I was back on track. Then, I accidentally mixed two kinds of rice together so that half didn't cook at all and the other half OVER-cooked!! AAAAGH! Who can't make rice?! I've been making rice for years and years!! Good! Grief!
This threw me into such a tizzy that I completely forgot to put the vegetables on at all until just a few minutes before our friends' arrival. *sigh* I put them on, but they didn't get soft enough for my liking. I was so utterly deflated that I forgot at this point to even SEASON the rice and vegetables! Gross!
I served everything anyway and everyone was gracious...it just shows I'll never be prideful about my cooking!! Never!
Stupid rice.
At least dessert was perfect. That's probably because it hadn't encountered my kitchen. Kim Toye brought it from HER kitchen. Thanks, Kim. That peach pie saved the evening! :)
Well, this is what becomes of going so long without entertaining. Mark and I love to have people over, but we haven't done it since moving to Searcy. Now, we're getting back into it! I'm so excited! Obviously, I'll need lots of practice before we're any GOOD at it...but we're not giving up!
Now...who will our next victims be?...
Catching up...
Has it really been so long since I've blogged? Shameful. It's not as if nothing's been going on. Let's see if I can recap...
In February we got a dog. She's a standard poodle; her name's Maisy (pronounced like daisy, but of course with an "m"); she's still a puppy but is bigger than most grown dogs so she's more than a handful. Why does dog pee smell SO BAD?? I've scrubbed the floor more times than I care to count. But, she's worth it. She's cute and sweet and a great addition to our family. She bites...but she's just playing. She scratches, but surely she'll grow out of that. We love her. We do!
In March, we had birthdays, surgeries, and travel!! The boys each had tubes put in their ears and their tonsils and adenoids taken out. My sister, Kat, came up and helped with their recovery during HER birthday. The boys didn't recover as quickly as we'd thought, but they are finally feeling great!
We celebrated Maggie's birthday in Tulsa this year (same as last year). Her birthday falls during Spring Break and also is simultaneous with the Tulsa Workshop...Mark always has a Harding booth at the workshop...so we all went with him. My parents and Mark's parents, as well as my sister!, joined us and we had a long weekend of fun. :) There was great food, Chuck E. Cheese, gifts, and lots of rest. Wonderful! (Did I mention that, just before the trip, I took my own trip to the E.R.? Not as fun as Tulsa.)
Since Maggie didn't get to celebrate her birthday with her friends, we had a "friends" party in April. In fact, this was just this past Friday night. A few girlfriends came over (plus one mom I couldn't have done this without! Thanks, Kim!) and we partied in true giggly-girl fashion. It was a "Pretty Pink" party. Everyone wore pink, the house was decorated in pink, the cupcakes were pink, and during the Barbie movie, as we sat eating pizza and giggling some more, I did the girls' hair one by one...bling-string and pink hairspray. The girls hounded Mark until I sprayed his hair too. We were all pinked out.
And worn out.
And now you're all caught up!
In February we got a dog. She's a standard poodle; her name's Maisy (pronounced like daisy, but of course with an "m"); she's still a puppy but is bigger than most grown dogs so she's more than a handful. Why does dog pee smell SO BAD?? I've scrubbed the floor more times than I care to count. But, she's worth it. She's cute and sweet and a great addition to our family. She bites...but she's just playing. She scratches, but surely she'll grow out of that. We love her. We do!
In March, we had birthdays, surgeries, and travel!! The boys each had tubes put in their ears and their tonsils and adenoids taken out. My sister, Kat, came up and helped with their recovery during HER birthday. The boys didn't recover as quickly as we'd thought, but they are finally feeling great!
We celebrated Maggie's birthday in Tulsa this year (same as last year). Her birthday falls during Spring Break and also is simultaneous with the Tulsa Workshop...Mark always has a Harding booth at the workshop...so we all went with him. My parents and Mark's parents, as well as my sister!, joined us and we had a long weekend of fun. :) There was great food, Chuck E. Cheese, gifts, and lots of rest. Wonderful! (Did I mention that, just before the trip, I took my own trip to the E.R.? Not as fun as Tulsa.)
Since Maggie didn't get to celebrate her birthday with her friends, we had a "friends" party in April. In fact, this was just this past Friday night. A few girlfriends came over (plus one mom I couldn't have done this without! Thanks, Kim!) and we partied in true giggly-girl fashion. It was a "Pretty Pink" party. Everyone wore pink, the house was decorated in pink, the cupcakes were pink, and during the Barbie movie, as we sat eating pizza and giggling some more, I did the girls' hair one by one...bling-string and pink hairspray. The girls hounded Mark until I sprayed his hair too. We were all pinked out.
And worn out.
And now you're all caught up!
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Bed of Roses
I used to say I can't help how I feel. In fact, I still say that sometimes. I wonder though if it's completely true. Lately I've struggled with memories. You know the ones I mean...the ones where I remember a very bad decision I made and wish I could go back and make the right one.
My life is so wonderful now and I don't know that going back and changing my decisions would change the outcome of where I've landed or not, but it would delete the bad memory. I do this every once in awhile. I start obsessing over why I made such bad choices. Why couldn't I have been stronger, smarter, wiser, better? Was it worth it? No. Why did I think it would be?
These bad memories start bombarding my thoughts and I begin to feel myself hunkering down behind the mental fort of funk in hopes of protection against the onslaught of memory-arrows. I shouldn't have ever gone out with that guy. I should never have accepted that drink. I don't know why I became friends with that girl. Did I really think seeing that movie was a good idea? How could I have spoken to my parents that way? Was dropping out of college ever, in any way, a good plan? Did I even know the difference between fun and stupid? When did I ever believe laws were optional?
Good grief.
Like I said, I do this every once in awhile. I get into a funk and it takes prayer and encouragement to climb back out of it. So I don't want to get into it again. Isn't that what grace is for? So I don't have to wear that burden anymore? I made horrible choices and suffered the consequences and now I am clean...forgiven...pure. Because God is able to forgive so completely as to make all these things disappear from my record, I am all good now. If I'm all good, why do I still dive into that funk?
The other day, it began. I heard from an old friend...an old partner in "crime" from my dumber days. Man, we had fun together; and it was great getting in touch again. But, with the good memories came the bad. And I found myself spending the better part of an hour reliving those stupid choices in my mind and trying to reconfigure them so that I could imagine what it would've been like if I'd made good choices.
I caught myself. Rather, God hit me on the head. This will lead to unnecessary funk!! Stop. Just stop. Smile. You're not there anymore. It's done. You have more stupid mistakes to look forward to. Why obsess over the old ones?
The funk was held at bay and I immediately felt a burst of energy. No funk. Only relief that God had pulled me out of every single idiotic spot I'd gotten myself into and placed me instead in such a beautiful bed of roses.
Now, although it's still a battle, I intend to turn every potentially funk-bringing moment into a moment of gratitude. I'm sure y'all have this figured out already. I mean, I usually am the last to catch onto things. But, I just thought I'd share that I've arrived. At least for today.
My life is so wonderful now and I don't know that going back and changing my decisions would change the outcome of where I've landed or not, but it would delete the bad memory. I do this every once in awhile. I start obsessing over why I made such bad choices. Why couldn't I have been stronger, smarter, wiser, better? Was it worth it? No. Why did I think it would be?
These bad memories start bombarding my thoughts and I begin to feel myself hunkering down behind the mental fort of funk in hopes of protection against the onslaught of memory-arrows. I shouldn't have ever gone out with that guy. I should never have accepted that drink. I don't know why I became friends with that girl. Did I really think seeing that movie was a good idea? How could I have spoken to my parents that way? Was dropping out of college ever, in any way, a good plan? Did I even know the difference between fun and stupid? When did I ever believe laws were optional?
Good grief.
Like I said, I do this every once in awhile. I get into a funk and it takes prayer and encouragement to climb back out of it. So I don't want to get into it again. Isn't that what grace is for? So I don't have to wear that burden anymore? I made horrible choices and suffered the consequences and now I am clean...forgiven...pure. Because God is able to forgive so completely as to make all these things disappear from my record, I am all good now. If I'm all good, why do I still dive into that funk?
The other day, it began. I heard from an old friend...an old partner in "crime" from my dumber days. Man, we had fun together; and it was great getting in touch again. But, with the good memories came the bad. And I found myself spending the better part of an hour reliving those stupid choices in my mind and trying to reconfigure them so that I could imagine what it would've been like if I'd made good choices.
I caught myself. Rather, God hit me on the head. This will lead to unnecessary funk!! Stop. Just stop. Smile. You're not there anymore. It's done. You have more stupid mistakes to look forward to. Why obsess over the old ones?
The funk was held at bay and I immediately felt a burst of energy. No funk. Only relief that God had pulled me out of every single idiotic spot I'd gotten myself into and placed me instead in such a beautiful bed of roses.
Now, although it's still a battle, I intend to turn every potentially funk-bringing moment into a moment of gratitude. I'm sure y'all have this figured out already. I mean, I usually am the last to catch onto things. But, I just thought I'd share that I've arrived. At least for today.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Progress Report
Hello, Bloggers! Time for an update into Project Skinny. This is the hardest time I've ever had losing weight. But then again, I ain't no spring chicken. Metabolism used to be a non-issue...and now it's my arch enemy. So how am I doing?
I'm down two more pounds! Yay, Me! It's not my ideal pace, but it's a loss and not a gain so I'll take it!
I've been working out on the elliptical. I know that's the biggest body-changer. But I've started changing my eating habits as well. THIS is the tough part for me. I like to taste good food. I love to eat yummy food whether I'm hungry or not. I could easily plan an event, vacation, party, etc around food. Food is by far the number one deal-breaker when deciding to attend a function. Will there be food? No? Think I'll stay home. I. Like. Food.
This morning I had a Weight Watchers yogurt for breakfast. Now, I'm not "doing" Weight Watchers, but I know they have a good thing going and so I thought it couldn't hurt to tip into the plan every once in awhile. I usually either skip breakfast, or have Ramen noodles. Stop it! I can feel you judging me!
For lunch, I had breaded chicken breast over Parmesan pasta. Yes, yes, I know. This is not "diet" food. However, it's miles better than the chips, Twix, and Diet Dr. Pepper I usually have. Baby steps here, People!
And, here's a tip...it really does make a difference what you're wearing when you weigh. Between the first weigh-in this morning (while wearing my heavy terry-cloth robe and a terry-cloth towel on my wet head) and my second weigh-in this morning (naked and dry) there was a six pound difference. SIX POUNDS!
So...onward, my Soon-to-be-Skinny Friends. Ounce by ounce, you and I are going to be stunning by summer!
I'm down two more pounds! Yay, Me! It's not my ideal pace, but it's a loss and not a gain so I'll take it!
I've been working out on the elliptical. I know that's the biggest body-changer. But I've started changing my eating habits as well. THIS is the tough part for me. I like to taste good food. I love to eat yummy food whether I'm hungry or not. I could easily plan an event, vacation, party, etc around food. Food is by far the number one deal-breaker when deciding to attend a function. Will there be food? No? Think I'll stay home. I. Like. Food.
This morning I had a Weight Watchers yogurt for breakfast. Now, I'm not "doing" Weight Watchers, but I know they have a good thing going and so I thought it couldn't hurt to tip into the plan every once in awhile. I usually either skip breakfast, or have Ramen noodles. Stop it! I can feel you judging me!
For lunch, I had breaded chicken breast over Parmesan pasta. Yes, yes, I know. This is not "diet" food. However, it's miles better than the chips, Twix, and Diet Dr. Pepper I usually have. Baby steps here, People!
And, here's a tip...it really does make a difference what you're wearing when you weigh. Between the first weigh-in this morning (while wearing my heavy terry-cloth robe and a terry-cloth towel on my wet head) and my second weigh-in this morning (naked and dry) there was a six pound difference. SIX POUNDS!
So...onward, my Soon-to-be-Skinny Friends. Ounce by ounce, you and I are going to be stunning by summer!
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Amidst Beauty
Sunday morning, I had the honor of attending church service at the Searcy Healthcare Center. Mark leads singing there sometimes and I wanted the children and myself to go and experience relationships with the elderly. When we entered, we had to dis-alarm the door. The residents are not prisoners, but without the door locked and alarmed they may "escape". There are those who will simply leave because there is a door open.
The room we entered was already filling up with residents and a few of their family members. Wheelchairs and folding chairs were our pews and the foyer was our sanctuary. I looked around at all the residents. Some were sitting quietly, just waiting to begin. Some were talking loudly and enjoying the social gathering as if it was a big party. Some were staring in what seemed to be a vacant not-quite-there appearance. All were dressed up. Lipstick, jewelry, bows in hair, ties, cologne, and glitter. This was obviously a time during the week that held great honor amongst the residents.
The boys fit perfectly on a loveseat near the front, but there was no seat for Maggie (my grown-up seven-year-old). She didn't look twice. There was an empty chair between two elderly ladies (one in a wheelchair) and Maggie simply went up to both the ladies and asked if she could sit there.
The ladies were ecstatic. Maggie reached over to touch the purple, velvet sleeve of the wheelchaired woman on her left (who can resist purple velvet?). The woman smiled and reached over in turn to feel Maggie's bare arm. They both nodded approvingly, as if sharing a private moment only they understood.
The woman on Maggie's right had a cold and was sniffing. Maggie too had been sneezing a bit (it's allergy season here) so when Mark handed Maggie a handful of tissue, she immediately gave one to the sniffing woman. The woman grinned and thanked her. They were kindred at once.
When Mark got up to lead singing there was a mixed response. He'd purposely picked golden oldies to lead...those with a slow enough pace so as not to leave anyone behind. Many sang with no trouble; some sang at the top of their lungs with no inhibitions, and one woman in the back (the one I'd assumed was vacant) clapped her hands the entire time Mark was singing.
You'd think this would be a distraction from worship. Quite the opposite. It was in fact a purification of the worship service. I looked at each tender, wrinkled face and noticed three things in common with each one.
First, no one used the book they'd been given. They knew the words and sang with no fumbling.
Second, there was no looking from side to side. The residents sang only to God. They cared not that the person next to them was off-key or sniffing or shaking or fidgeting.
Lastly, these precious people were all smiling. All of them. These songs must've been so beautiful to God.
I convinced myself that, if I closed my eyes, I could hear a perfect harmony among the cacophony of voices. I believe the angels couldn't help themselves from joining in.
When the sermon began, it was just as interesting as the singing had been. The residents had eyes only for the speaker and actually answered his questions. "I mean, what's the one thing we've always wanted, ever since we were little kids?" (the answer here was "approval" or "affirmation"). A strong voice from somewhere in the middle yelled, "TOYS!" :)
During the taking of the Lord's Supper, I saw the breaking of the bread as Jesus surely meant it to be. Those who shook uncontrollably were helped by their neighbors. Those who had no control over their faculties were helped by their neighbors. Those who seemingly stared vacantly at no one were helped by their neighbors. Everyone partook. And everyone partook as one unit. One body. Some became hands for others. Some became laps for others. We were complete.
After the service, it was time for the residents to return to their rooms. I caught on to the routine quickly. They needed help for multiple reasons. Some needed the physical help of traveling back. Some needed the mental help of remembering where their room was. Doors needed guarding for all the residents seem in the habit of wandering. More than once I heard someone saying, "Ooops. One's getting away. Come back, Dear!"
Before anyone had started their journey back, Luke jumped up (he's my four-year-old) and began making his rounds. He hugged as many as he could and told each of them, "I love you!" One woman said, "She's a pretty little girl." Luke didn't correct her. How he had the wherewithal is a mystery. Phoenix shook hands with them (my five-year-old little man) and instantly began helping fold the chairs back up.
Maggie and I braced a woman on each side and patiently shuffled her down the hall. She told Maggie she was a "helpful young man" and Maggie smiled and said thank you. We asked her where her room was and she replied, "I've gone and forgotten the words to it." Okay. Find the orderly.
We were so honored and blessed that morning. I WILL be returning. Sitting amidst such pure beauty is an experience that overwhelmed and fed my soul.
The room we entered was already filling up with residents and a few of their family members. Wheelchairs and folding chairs were our pews and the foyer was our sanctuary. I looked around at all the residents. Some were sitting quietly, just waiting to begin. Some were talking loudly and enjoying the social gathering as if it was a big party. Some were staring in what seemed to be a vacant not-quite-there appearance. All were dressed up. Lipstick, jewelry, bows in hair, ties, cologne, and glitter. This was obviously a time during the week that held great honor amongst the residents.
The boys fit perfectly on a loveseat near the front, but there was no seat for Maggie (my grown-up seven-year-old). She didn't look twice. There was an empty chair between two elderly ladies (one in a wheelchair) and Maggie simply went up to both the ladies and asked if she could sit there.
The ladies were ecstatic. Maggie reached over to touch the purple, velvet sleeve of the wheelchaired woman on her left (who can resist purple velvet?). The woman smiled and reached over in turn to feel Maggie's bare arm. They both nodded approvingly, as if sharing a private moment only they understood.
The woman on Maggie's right had a cold and was sniffing. Maggie too had been sneezing a bit (it's allergy season here) so when Mark handed Maggie a handful of tissue, she immediately gave one to the sniffing woman. The woman grinned and thanked her. They were kindred at once.
When Mark got up to lead singing there was a mixed response. He'd purposely picked golden oldies to lead...those with a slow enough pace so as not to leave anyone behind. Many sang with no trouble; some sang at the top of their lungs with no inhibitions, and one woman in the back (the one I'd assumed was vacant) clapped her hands the entire time Mark was singing.
You'd think this would be a distraction from worship. Quite the opposite. It was in fact a purification of the worship service. I looked at each tender, wrinkled face and noticed three things in common with each one.
First, no one used the book they'd been given. They knew the words and sang with no fumbling.
Second, there was no looking from side to side. The residents sang only to God. They cared not that the person next to them was off-key or sniffing or shaking or fidgeting.
Lastly, these precious people were all smiling. All of them. These songs must've been so beautiful to God.
I convinced myself that, if I closed my eyes, I could hear a perfect harmony among the cacophony of voices. I believe the angels couldn't help themselves from joining in.
When the sermon began, it was just as interesting as the singing had been. The residents had eyes only for the speaker and actually answered his questions. "I mean, what's the one thing we've always wanted, ever since we were little kids?" (the answer here was "approval" or "affirmation"). A strong voice from somewhere in the middle yelled, "TOYS!" :)
During the taking of the Lord's Supper, I saw the breaking of the bread as Jesus surely meant it to be. Those who shook uncontrollably were helped by their neighbors. Those who had no control over their faculties were helped by their neighbors. Those who seemingly stared vacantly at no one were helped by their neighbors. Everyone partook. And everyone partook as one unit. One body. Some became hands for others. Some became laps for others. We were complete.
After the service, it was time for the residents to return to their rooms. I caught on to the routine quickly. They needed help for multiple reasons. Some needed the physical help of traveling back. Some needed the mental help of remembering where their room was. Doors needed guarding for all the residents seem in the habit of wandering. More than once I heard someone saying, "Ooops. One's getting away. Come back, Dear!"
Before anyone had started their journey back, Luke jumped up (he's my four-year-old) and began making his rounds. He hugged as many as he could and told each of them, "I love you!" One woman said, "She's a pretty little girl." Luke didn't correct her. How he had the wherewithal is a mystery. Phoenix shook hands with them (my five-year-old little man) and instantly began helping fold the chairs back up.
Maggie and I braced a woman on each side and patiently shuffled her down the hall. She told Maggie she was a "helpful young man" and Maggie smiled and said thank you. We asked her where her room was and she replied, "I've gone and forgotten the words to it." Okay. Find the orderly.
We were so honored and blessed that morning. I WILL be returning. Sitting amidst such pure beauty is an experience that overwhelmed and fed my soul.
Hot Diggity Blog!!
Well, Bloggers, the transformation has begun! I have gained so much energy this week that I'm not only seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, but I'm starting to feel that light on my face! I cleaned our house (yeah, the whole house) in three hours the other day!!! Woo-Hoo! That's the old Kim! I even have my old attitude back regarding the house's state of appearance. "If you leave a toy on the floor unattended, I will throw it away. Don't mess with my clean house!" I went to bed early last night and the last thing I said to Mark before closing my eyes was, "Don't let the kids ruin the house while I sleep." I'm back, Baby!
Let's review:
Old Kim (pre-illness)...Spic-n-Span house, hot dinner on the table at 5:00, schedule/routine/schedule/routine, Ladies' Bible Class, volunteering, sewing, etc...
Recent Kim (mid-illness)...sleep, cry, complain, sleep, laze-about, stare at what doesn't get done, sleep, etc...
Kim this week (mid-treatment)...up early, smiling, cleaning, organizing, playing, laughing, enjoying, cleaning, organizing, cleaning, organizing, etc...
Yay!!!
Oh, and did I mention I've lost 5 pounds? Oh, yeah. I'm back.
Let's review:
Old Kim (pre-illness)...Spic-n-Span house, hot dinner on the table at 5:00, schedule/routine/schedule/routine, Ladies' Bible Class, volunteering, sewing, etc...
Recent Kim (mid-illness)...sleep, cry, complain, sleep, laze-about, stare at what doesn't get done, sleep, etc...
Kim this week (mid-treatment)...up early, smiling, cleaning, organizing, playing, laughing, enjoying, cleaning, organizing, cleaning, organizing, etc...
Yay!!!
Oh, and did I mention I've lost 5 pounds? Oh, yeah. I'm back.
Monday, January 3, 2011
And so it begins...
Well, Bloggers, I've committed to losing weight and getting healthy. And that's as far as it's gone. We got home from our holiday travels yesterday evening and I honestly planned to hit the ground running, literally, this morning. I have the sinus flu but being skinny is more important than breathing, right? Mark left for a four-day trip to Colorado at around 4:30 this morning. Maggie started back to school this morning. The boys are a little fussy...I need to detox them from the holiday routine and junk-food extravaganza they've experienced. But...I still need to exercise!!
I put on the cutest work-out outfit. I looked adorable. Fat, but adorable. I stepped outside...BRRRR! 20 degrees?! Are you kidding me? Hmmm. I took Maggie to school, thinking it would warm up as the sun began to rise. It didn't. I got home and took off my cute work-out outfit. I put on my sloppy clothes and began my housework. I got new sheets for Christmas so I thrilled in making my bed. I made the boys breakfast (pouring milk in their cereal constitutes "making"). I walked in the den....
The Elliptical stood their mocking me. It jeered at me as if to say, "It's not 20 degrees in your house. I'm right here. USE ME!!" It's a bossy little thing. I ignored it. After all, I'm not even wearing my cute work-out outfit anymore. Who likes working out in sloppy house-work clothes? AND, I am barefoot! Can you do the Elliptical barefoot?
Yes.
Yes, you can.
Yes, I can.
And I will. Hold on...I'll be right back. Okay (she said, panting) I did it! I did 2 minutes and 30 seconds on the Elliptical!
This may sound like a really wimpy beginning to the exercise plan. Perhaps I should let you in on my current health situation. My adrenal glands shut down about the middle of last year and I developed severe anemia (chicken or the egg... we don't know which came first actually...adrenal failure or anemia). 2 minutes on the Elliptical has been but a dream for me. I not only did 2 minutes (and 30 seconds!) but I didn't faint!! Woo-Hoo!
What have you done today? Even if it's just a little bit, please share it with me. We can all use the encouragement!
I put on the cutest work-out outfit. I looked adorable. Fat, but adorable. I stepped outside...BRRRR! 20 degrees?! Are you kidding me? Hmmm. I took Maggie to school, thinking it would warm up as the sun began to rise. It didn't. I got home and took off my cute work-out outfit. I put on my sloppy clothes and began my housework. I got new sheets for Christmas so I thrilled in making my bed. I made the boys breakfast (pouring milk in their cereal constitutes "making"). I walked in the den....
The Elliptical stood their mocking me. It jeered at me as if to say, "It's not 20 degrees in your house. I'm right here. USE ME!!" It's a bossy little thing. I ignored it. After all, I'm not even wearing my cute work-out outfit anymore. Who likes working out in sloppy house-work clothes? AND, I am barefoot! Can you do the Elliptical barefoot?
Yes.
Yes, you can.
Yes, I can.
And I will. Hold on...I'll be right back. Okay (she said, panting) I did it! I did 2 minutes and 30 seconds on the Elliptical!
This may sound like a really wimpy beginning to the exercise plan. Perhaps I should let you in on my current health situation. My adrenal glands shut down about the middle of last year and I developed severe anemia (chicken or the egg... we don't know which came first actually...adrenal failure or anemia). 2 minutes on the Elliptical has been but a dream for me. I not only did 2 minutes (and 30 seconds!) but I didn't faint!! Woo-Hoo!
What have you done today? Even if it's just a little bit, please share it with me. We can all use the encouragement!
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The Fabulous Five
We strive to make memories that will always lead us into the Light
