Standing On Hope

Year Six

2011-11-28T13:50:00.002-06:00

I remember so many things about T. and our family as it was six years ago so clearly, and yet there are many memories that have faded like construction paper figures in a sunny window. I get through the year with relative ease and have even found happiness and joy in Thanksgiving once again. However, this year the days have aligned to be on the same days of the week as they were the year T. died, and for some reason that has made a difference to my heart. Today I just want to pause the day so that R. and the kids will stay at school and work a little longer just to give me time to be still and quiet in the house. You would think that six years later things are easier. In some ways maybe they are. I’m starting to think that in many ways this grief journey will be woven into the path I’m on for the rest of my life.

I remember I had just bought the new MercyMe Christmas album that year, and I was so moved by the last song, “Joseph’s Lullaby.” We naturally think so much about mothers during pregnancy and childbirth, and Mary definitely is the focus of plenty of contemplation. What I loved then and still love about this song is the tenderness I hear in the words of a father to his infant son. In this case, Joseph knows that the little man in his arms is no ordinary baby, but aren’t all children little miracles? As I was listening to this song today, I held Baby S. in my arms as I rocked her to sleep for a much-protested nap. Her little blue eyes sparkled up at me as she reached a plump hand toward my face to touch my chin. I remembered Li’l G and Bud being this age and how long ago it feels it was since they were so little. And my heart just broke anew.

In the song, Joseph tells Baby Jesus, “Go to sleep, my son…You’ve got a long road before You, just rest Your weary head… Does the Father guard Your heart for now so You can sleep tonight?” I think of Bud, just nine months old when T. slipped away into Glory. I’ve always felt such a heavy burden for him and Li’l G, but especially him. I remember his sweet, chubby cheeks, his adorable mischevious smile. So sweet and innocent, so happy and trusting. He has had such a long road before him ever since he was such a little guy. In many ways I feel like he was robbed of having a normal life when all this happened. How would Bud ever know the love and nurturing of a father? Who would love him and dote over him, guide him down the road of life and help mold him into a man? Who would know what a precious little boy he is and be able to love him through the times growing up when he will be hard to love? Bud lost more than he could know when T. died.

Something I overlooked until recently is how beautifully this song parallels my own life. As much heartbreak and longing I feel when I hear this song, there is promise and hope in it as well. Joseph walked into such an awkward situation with Mary and Jesus, and yet God knew what He was doing when He set this plan in motion. No other man but Joseph would love Jesus as his own. No other man but Joseph would look down on this little man and see his own son in Jesus. No other man but Joseph would have tenderness in his heart for a child he did not help conceive. And yet, the words to this song reflect the sentiments of a man who will raise Jesus as his own son, be there to father him and care for him without reservation or hesitation. And in the words of Joseph I hear the voice of R. singing over Bud.

Why, God? Why was all of this allowed to happen? I can’t imagine my life without any of the people in it who have been in it in the past and who are in it now as I daily greet my future. I cling to them all with a ferocity that burns in my heart and sends hot tears streaming down my cheeks. This confuses me, destroys me, encourages me, and uplifts me all at the same time. No matter how many years pass by since the last time I heard T.’s voice, I will still never quite recover from the trauma of having him ripped from our lives. The hole will always be there even though the edges are less frayed and jagged with time. I will always have bitter tears for my children’s loss and what this meant for them. But alongside it I will always be wrapped in the tender, doting love that R. brings to my life and the fullness of life I enjoy again as a result of God bringing him into my life. I will always hear the song of a loving father being sung from the heart of R. over Li’l G and Bud, a song that no one else but he could sing. And in the sparkling eyes of my Jeremiah 29:11 baby I will always see God’s promise to be El Roi, the God Who Sees, in my life -- the promise of never walking away, of never turning a deaf ear towards me, of counting each tear my heart has cried along the way and holding them in the palm of His hand.

So I will mark, during the hustle and bustle as well as the quiet still moments, the two days that changed me forever. I will cry, remember, smile, and finally emerge exhausted by the range of emotions I go through each time November 30 rolls around. I will treasure the memories I have, faded though some may be. They will be pasted into the collage of my life with the vibrant colors of my present and the not-yet-defined colors that await me in the future. And so will pass another year.

BTJ Weeks Seven & Eight: Before and After

2011-03-21T08:25:00.002-05:00

It's been a little while since my last Backpacking Through Joshua post since we've had a break, and holy cats! Lots has been going on since that time. As easy as it could be to opt out of this next section of the study, I feel the need to use it as an opportunity to learn better time management and spend the time in the Word regardless of what other things I could be off doing.

Since I chose to consolidate these two chapters, I wanted to look at these two chapters as one continuous narrative rather than separate, stand alone stories. Paraphrased and condensed, Joshua has led the Israelites on two campaigns, one in Jericho and the other in Ai. Although by and large the campaign in Jericho was considered a success, in the eyes of the LORD there was a complete breakdown in trust and obedience on the part of the people. After taking steps to renew the covenant and restore the nation in the eyes of God, Joshua leads the next campaign against Ai. Not only does Joshua wait upon the LORD for the play-by-play interpretation of how the battle should go, he ends the experience with corporate worship and instruction, a stark 180 from the end of the Jericho campaign.

One passage in particular really strikes me in Joshua 7:6-15. Basically, Joshua's scouts at Ai have been slaughtered by the enemy as a result of sin in the Israelite camp after the fall of Jericho. Joshua is bemoaning his poor, miserable self -- LORD, you don't love me anymore! What did I ever do to you? Aaagh! I hate my life! I wish I'd never left my old house and listened to you! (stomp, stomp, stomp). (Interpretation obviously mine.) To which God says -- Whoa, whoa, whoa. Excuse me?!? Are you seriously complaining here? Let's look at your actions: you didn't follow directions, you blatantly disobeyed me, and you have the audacity to not expect consequences? You'd better step back and look at yourself a little more closely. Unless you take steps to correct this situation, you will continue to endure the consequences you earned. It's your choice. (Again, my words.)

I obviously pictured this with the drama and angst of a teenager railing against a parent that they are sure is out to get them, being completely unfair and trying to ruin their lives. And perhaps that's a bit of a stretch here, but here's how I saw myself in this Scripture:

I scratch my head and walk around shell shocked every time I think I'm doing something that surely God would want me doing, especially if it's supposed to bring glory to God, right?!? I mean, what is more humble and respectful, right? Geez, God, don't you want me to be happy or something? Haven't I suffered enough in this life?

And then God, sometimes with a clap of thunder, or sometimes through deafening silence, shows me that it doesn't matter what I thought was the right idea or course of action. What matters is what God was trying to show me through the experience or situation. If I could just let go of the steering wheel (since I'm sitting in the passenger seat to begin with) and quit making us swerve all over the road, He would get me where I need to go safe and sound and without all the drama.

I think the bottom line is this: Just because we "got it right" once before doesn't always mean we will "get it right" in the future. Let me unpack this. We may go through a significant trial in our lives, need to make a pivotal decision, or some such significant life event. Hopefully we have laid it at the feet of Jesus and left it there and waited upon the LORD for clear instruction on each step we are to take on our journey through that particular wilderness. But just because we emerge from that wilderness on the yellow brick road of trust and obedience does not necessarily mean we can expect that for the next time our path disappears into the fog or another thick forest. I don't know about you, but I am human and tend to become complacent and assume that I've got things covered because I'm a Christian and I've prayed about it. Or I simply say a quick prayer and then proceed as I wanted to in the first place. Just like Joshua got the message about how he was to wait upon the LORD and obey His exact instructions, I have to treat my journeys as if I am starting over from scratch each time. I can look to experiences of the past to encourage me along the way that trusting God is the right choice to make, but I've got to start anew each time laying the problem or issue and the feet of Jesus and touching the hem of His robe, claiming again and again and again that even the dogs are given scraps from the master's table.

And when it's all said and done, regardless of the outcome, God is worthy, worthy, worthy of adoration and praise. :)

My favorite verse from this week: "Then the LORD said to Joshua, 'Do not fear or be dismayed..." -- Joshua 8:1a (just after Joshua took steps to restore the covenant, and symbolic to me that God was letting Joshua know that they were "cool" and ready to take the next step -- together.)

BTJ Week Six: Trust and Obey

2011-02-18T09:06:00.003-06:00

Being a former elementary school teacher, the first thing I do before any reading assignment is preview any questions I'm supposed to answer after reading a text. We taught our students to do that to help them be able to identify answers more easily in the text as they read. At any rate, it just helps me to get my thinking cap on.

But in light of the last couple of weeks I've had, my ability to focus on anything has been seriously undermined. First I was in an auto accident in which, thankfully, nobody was hurt. Two weeks later the issue is still unresolved, and as seemingly simple as it should be able to resolve, there is a whole undercurrent of nasty flowing here that started the second the lady stepped out of her car to survey the damage. Two weeks later the battle rages on with no resolution, and every time I think about the whole situation it just makes me upset all over again.

So I come home from being in the auto accident to open a piece of mail that informs us that our mortgage will be going up by a huge chunk of change monthly. After hours of phone calls and what amounts to investigative work on my end of things, we are still left with a huge bill that will probably end up being our responsibility due to the negligence and oversight of someone who was involved in the process of preparing the settlement paperwork from when we closed on our house last spring. Do we have any choice in the matter? I still don't know. Add a couple more points onto my blood pressure here, too.

Yet one more stick pulled out of the Jenga tower of my life came yesterday. Mixed in with a stack of junk mail from last month was a piece of paper with a bill in it from the Veteran's Administration asking for their overpayment from when I should have stopped receiving benefits after remarrying. To the tune of over $15,000. Yes, folks, you read that number correctly, and we are talking US dollars. Payable immediately. In one lump sum. Now I may have some hope here, but my local VA office is closed for three weeks in February (no explanation as to why), and by the time help is available I will have two weeks to either cough up the dough, find a creative solution, or have the VA attack my credit.

"Save me, O God, for the waters have come up to my neck. I sink in deep mire, where there is no foothold; I have come into deep waters, and the flood sweeps over me. I am weary with my crying; my throat is parched. My eyes grow dim with waiting for my God." -- Psalm 69:1-3

And now I'm supposed to focus on Scripture and questions?!? Actually, yes.

I'll admit now: these big burdens on me are only the tip of the iceberg; just the select few I chose to share. Trust me -- there's more where that came from. When I finally sat down, albeit late, to do my reading of Joshua 6, these questions just really did not jump off the page at me. Yes, I knew I needed to put my nose in the Word, but that was about as far as I could emotionally go. What I believe God showed me through this passage might not have related directly to the questions, but I got a lot out of the reading. So I'd just like to share a few points of how Joshua 6 related to where I am right now.

1) Joshua 6:10 -- "To the people Joshua gave this command: 'You shall not shout or let your voice be heard, nor shall you utter a word, until the day I tell you to shout, Then you shall shout.' "

What I learned: Timing here was everything. It was a matter of trust. The Israelites had a very prescriptive set of directions they had to follow, and I mean to the letter. If you know me very well, you know I am a real conversationalist. That's putting it nicely. I am a talker. I love to share ideas, have conversations with people, share my insights, seek those of others, and so on. I love to connect and relate with people. Can you imagine me, for one whole minute, having to restrain my mouth until the appointed time?!? A daunting task indeed. But what I took away from it was this: Timing for me is everything, too. Ecclesiastes 3:7b tells me that there is "a time to keep silence, and a time to speak." Maybe right now I need to quit relating my tale of drama and woe, shut my mouth, and bare my heart to God and allow him to teach me through this experience. It is my time to silence my mouth and listen. God will let me know when it's time to step up and speak out; until then, I've done enough. In the case of the auto accident, this lady has been mean and nasty since Day One, and it sounds like not much has changed there. Rather than get wound up about it, I need to entrust it to God and wait for instruction. Exodus 14:14 tells me that, "The LORD will fight for you, and you have only to keep still." (NRSV) The NKJV says to "hold your peace." Now, this doesn't mean that God is taking sides, or that just because I am a Christian that everything will turn out the way I think it should, but I need to take myself out of this equation for now, be humbled by it, and wait and listen. Pretty simple.

2) Joshua 6:16b-17a, 18 -- " 'Shout! For the LORD has given you the city. The city and all that is in it shall be devoted to the LORD for destruction. As for you keep away from the things devoted to destruction, so as not to covet and take any of the devoted things and make the camp of Israel an object for destruction, bringing trouble upon it.' "

Translated in my mind: OK, here are my EXACT instructions for you here. I have given you a victory in this circumstance, but there are some caveats to how you are to handle this. Do not step one toe over the line, because if you do, you will bring on your own consequences. You've been blessed and warned -- now go!

I may or may not experience what I believe would be successes or victories in any of these situations. But I do know that God's given me exact instructions on how to live my life, to desire that justice be done where everything is concerned, to be morally right and upstanding even if I'm at fault, and that to emerge from these trials knowing that I was obedient to that is the point of all this. It is really hard to trust in this situation, much less obey, but there really is no other way to handle any of this with a clear conscience and feel like right has really been done for all parties concerned.

Which leads me to the song I posted below. Don't know why, but TRUST and OBEY seemed to be two words that jumped out at me from Joshua 6. And wouldn't you know it? There's a great old hymn by the same name. I love this new version by Big Daddy Weave, but before I leave you now to enjoy the song, I want to share the lyrics to the third verse, which they did not include in their version of the song...

Not a burden we bear,
Not a sorrow we share,
But our toil He doth richly repay.
Not a grief or a loss,
Not a frown nor a cross,
But is blest if we trust and obey

Trust and obey,
For there's no other way
To be happy in Jesus,
But to trust and obey.

BTJ Week Five: Snip, Snip

2011-02-07T13:23:00.004-06:00

This is one of those days where I have a lot and nothing to say. Rather than spend a lot of time and energy leading up to the questions, I think I'd rather start there and see where this leads.

"Putting It Out There" Questions for Joshua 5:

1) Have you ever met someone that you could tell was a Christian by first impression? Do you think you are easily recognizable as a Christian? Why or why not?

2) Modern Christianity tends to value "blending in" more than standing out -- agree or disagree? Why or why not?

And here's what I have to say about that!

1) The best answer I have to give here is actually about a fellow Red Group member, Angela R. She is someone who is awash in the light and love of Christ. And I specifically mean "awash". Her eyes sparkle, her skin glows, she has a hearty laugh and a soothing voice, and to be around her makes you feel like you've spent time with Jesus' cool sister. People literally flock to be around her because of how she allows God to shine forth from within her. I know she will turn 25 shades of red when she reads this because of her humble heart, which only makes my point even stronger. Regardless of the fact that I met my friend at a Bible study for women, Angela is this way 24/7 -- at church, at home, at the commissary, or like when we used to take my kids and her dog Esther for walks. I have met countless numbers of really great people, both men and women, who were Christians of varying walks and levels of maturity in the faith, but I have never seen the light of Christ beam forth so true from another human being. And while I know I can never be another Angela, or try to do or say all of the amazing things she does, she is a great example of how to be light and salt to the world. She will always be one of my role models in the faith.

2) Wow -- when I read this question, I immediately thought DISAGREE. From what I observe in American culture today, there is a slice of our country that is voraciously outspoken about Christianity, how it is to be expressed if you really love Jesus, how it should carry over into how you vote, how you should educate your children, etc. I have never seen a time in our nation's history since it's very founding when Christianity felt so up-in-your-face.

It seems to me that people these days are all about taking a stand for Jesus or something -- how can you be a Christian if you allow your children to read, 'Harry Potter'?" "Well, we chose to homeschool our children so they can receive a Christian education." "We go to XYZ church. It's non-denominational, so anyone is welcome! You really should come! We're having a GNO/Couples Night/etc...." "We should lambast and riot over removing the words 'under God' from the Pledge of Allegiance and 'In God We Trust' from our money!" "I will only vote for a Christian for whatever political office." "We only listen to the Christian channel on the radio."

Now, don't get me wrong -- I'm not saying any of those statements are patently bad. I'm just saying they are anything but trying to blend in. I just think that it borders on pride and braggish behavior when these loaded statements are tossed around in public, and in some cases and places, they have become the American right-wing status quo. How many times have you heard someone committing the offense of backing this behavior with Scripture? "Oh, Jesus said that we would be persecuted just like He was !" (ref. John 15:20 and Matthew 5:10)

Let's look at one of the word studies for this week: "circumcision"; "muwl" in Hebrew or "peritemno" in Greek.

It's defined on the Blue Letter Bible website as meaning, "circumcise, destroy, cut down, cut in pieces." When I ran the search through the NKJV Bible to see where else this word was used, I saw seven other instances of "circumcise" in the Bible, three of which specifically referred to removing or circumcising the foreskin of one's heart. POW!

I, better than some folks perhaps, can respect someone who decides, "Here I stand; I can do no other!" when it comes to the trappings of pop culture and what the Joneses are doing these days. As a wise friend Shawna said, "Prevalence does not mean permission!" However, when making a lifestyle choice because you feel convicted over it becomes your judgmental battle cry, it's hard for me to see Jesus in that. I see Jesus as an humble lamb, led blameless to the slaughter. When I read about how Joshua and the Israelites physically mutilated their bodies to restore this relationship with God, I was a little blown away by it. A) You can't tell me that didn't hurt. A lot; and B) What a powerful, tangible way to be reminded of something so intangible! To circumcise one's heart is to rip and shred its very fibers until what you have left is vulnerable, unprotected by any behavioral foreskin or verbal sheathing. As I'm sure this group of sore men could tell you, being circumcised is probably an extremely humbling experience. How does an in-your-face, I'm-a-Christian-taking-my-stand attitude exhibit a circumcised heart? Well, there's a time and a place for it, but I trust the Holy Spirit to let me know when to turn that fire hose on the crowd. Until then, I pray for strength to be like Jesus -- and my friend, Angela -- humble, slow to anger, putting others first, merciful, kind.

My Favorite Verse Of The Week: "The mann ceased on the day they ate the produce of the land, and the Israelites no longer had manna; they ate the crops of the land of Canaan that year." -- Joshua 5:12*

*I know this verse is unrelated to my blog post; however, I loved it for its symbolism of how God continued to provide for them. God may have discontinued one form of support, but support was still there, just in a different form. It spoke to me in terms of how God has provided for me and supported me through so many times and trials and how that has evolved over time.

Backpacking Through Joshua: Week Four

2011-02-01T10:40:00.004-06:00

I find myself having time in front of the computer today because, yet again, my children are home from school due to inclement weather. Thankfully they are way past diapers, breastfeeding, and nap schedules, so they're vegging out in front of the television ~~rotting their brains~~ watching some lovely shows while I have laundry going, a cake baking in the oven, and time in the Word. Better enjoy it before the bambino comes along!

As much as the text is repetitive this week (for reasons that only ancient redactors will ever know), I feel like this little chapter is fraught with meaning, and the questions we've been asked to ponder and delve into have really got my cogs churning today. So let's get started!

To start off with, HisGirl is focusing on characteristics of God each week, with this week's focus being that God is unchanging. She posed the question, "Do I truly believe God is Unchanging?" At first I thought, "Well, DUH -- of course!" Then, I thought, "No, actually I don't," but now I think my final answer is "yes" but with caveats, as the military would say.

Yes: God is good. Faithful. Just. Omniscient. Omnipotent. Omnipresent. Loving. Steadfast. Eternal. And so on and so on. In my opinion, these things do not change, regardless of what is/is not going on in my life, the lives of others, or world events.

No: This is based on my knee-jerk reaction earlier, but what I understand now is that I was looking at it from the perspective of how I am interacting with God from one circumstance to another. The characteristics of God are a constant; these never change. HOWEVER! The big difference is how I am experiencing God at a certain place/time in my life. When T. died, I could truly say that God was Omnipresent and Steadfast. Was I experiencing God as being Just? No, not in that circumstance. I do not believe that God's will was that T.'s life would be cut short and that the lives of everyone around him would be ruined with grief. I do, however, believe that bad things happen in life, and they grieve God as well. I do believe it was God's will that some way, some how, there would be glory given to God throughout this tragedy and that lives would be blessed as a result.

In the section about "Concept Study," I chose to look at the word "remember" or "remembrance" and look at all the times the LORD asked someone to remember. There are 148 times that the word "remember" occurs in the KJV Biblical text, some of which are times when God is to remember a promise, covenant, or blessing, and others are times in which we are to remember. The Israelites are told to remember their dramatic exodus out of Egypt, they are told to remember the Sabbath and keep it holy, remember how the LORD led them for 40 years in the wilderness, and only about a kajillion more examples that I could keep listing but won't. For an excellent resource to use for study, go here. This is the search I ran for this word study.

Out of all the times where "remember" or "remembrance" is used, I love two examples the most:

1) Take a stroll through the Book of Psalms. Where better to read examples of individuals going through real-life trials or praises who are remembering God and how God will faithfully be there for them?!?

2) My favorite example is at the Passover meal where Jesus tells the disciples to break bread and drink wine "in remembrance of me." Why aren't churches doing communion every.single.time.they.get.the.chance??? To me, this is, aside from baptism, one of the only tangible things in the Christian religion that we can experience to connect us with the precious sacrifice of Jesus. Lutherans in particular believe that Christ is present with is "in, with, and under" the bread and the wine. True, I don't have to be having communion to know that Christ is with me, but it is such a special, sacred experience that I can't imagine not wanting to have that personal, intimate connection with Christ more often. (I am an individual who is motivated by sensory experiences, which is why I think I connect with communion in this way.)

Finally, we are "Putting It Out There":

1) How do you keep your memories of the Goodness of God alive?

2) Do you feel comfortable sharing the things God has done in/through/for/to you with your children? Your friends? Your family? Your coworkers? Why or why not?

These are actually hard to answer but I will do my best.

1) I'm ashamed to admit it, but I don't think I really, intentionally keep these memories alive. My main examples always seem to come from everything I went through surrounding the death of T., my life afterwards, and where I've come to now. That really only covers about five to six years. What about the other 30 or so years prior to that? I don't have trouble recalling these memories in times of trial; they do bring me hope and encouragement. I know blogging has been a good way to document these things, but other than that, it's a real chore to journal. It's kinda hard to take a photograph of God making your feet work so you can take baby steps, or sitting next to you during a time of woe or grief. But I can tell you that I do have photographs of some amazing friends and family who were God's way of ministering to me, and all I have to do is see their love and dedication on their faces to see God's fingerprint on the canvas of my life. "I don't know" -- can that be my answer?!?

2) Yes and no. I know this answer may surprise some, but sometimes I almost lean toward no. In my heart I want to be able to be frank with people, and I think for the most part I am. I am definitely not ashamed to explain my testimony to others and explain my religious views to others. I guess that, over the years, how I do that has changed a little, and I've gotten to be a lot more sensitive to my audience. I have never, ever been one of these street-preacher types of evangelists; in fact, people like that are extremely off-putting to me and I try to avoid them at all costs. The quote about wanting to bear spiritual fruit and not be a religious nut comes to mind. I choose not to insulate myself from what I feel is the "real world," a world of people who may or may not believe in Christ, or they may or may not be Christian even if they are religious or spiritual. I love seeing and interacting with all types and walks of people and want to appreciate the diversity of all of God's creations. That being said, they aren't changing my mind on how I feel. And when it comes to spiritual matters, or my testimony, etc., it can be a real challenge to find the words that clearly convey my perspective and personal experience in a way that 1) they can understand and relate to, and 2) not feel is condemning or judgmental language in reference to them. I strongly believe that if we are to be "light" and "salt" and be the hands and feet of Christ to the world, the majority of that calling takes us out of the Christian population and puts us in the mix with lots of types of people. I want people to come up to me and ask, "How on earth did you do it?", "How are you still standing?" "Why do you feel this way?" Then I can launch into the Real Answer in my life. I know that the Holy Spirit will put the words in my mouth that are meant for that individual to hear.

As far as my children go, it's a whole different story. They're my children, so of course they are my captive audience! I have undoubtedly made some terrible choices in my life, and I want to share that with my children at the appropriate time so that they can see me not just as Mom, but as a sinful human who is still beautiful to God since God sees who I am and what I look like in light of the cross. I also want them to hear about the times God gave me the strength to praise through pain, the times God helped me to make decisions, and all of the other amazing experiences we have had together. It is through my mother and grandmother passing along this same type of testimony that has strengthened my faith and resolve through the years, and I hope to continue that for my own children.

My Favorite Verse For Week Four: "...'When your children ask their parents in time to come, 'What do these stones mean?' then you shall let your children know, 'Israel crossed over the Jordan here on dry ground.' For the LORD your God dried up the waters of the Jordan for you until you crossed over, as the LORD your God did to the Red Sea, which he dried up for us until we crossed over, so that all the peoples of the earth may know that the hand of the LORD is mighty, and so that you may fear the LORD your God forever.' " -- Joshua 4:21-24 (NRSV)

Backpacking Through Joshua: Week Three

2011-01-27T21:32:00.004-06:00

I'm tired and my face hurts. (Pregnancy-induced cystic acne. I hate it.) My son hasn't been to school in two weeks between personal illness and snow days called by the local school district. I've had out of state company for five days this week. I'm exhausted. But I will post for Week Three if it's the last thing I do! (covers head and waits for lightning to strike)

I seriously considered just doing the reading and not posting anything for this week for all of the above reasons, and then some. But after reading Joshua 3 and the "Putting It Out There" questions, I realized, This is easy -- I got this! The only problem will be limiting this to a bazillion words or less... I'm super excited about the questions, the answers that I have to give, and better yet the glaring proof in the pudding that is the Joshua 3 text. Let's dive in.

"Putting It Out There" Questions:

1) Are there some areas in your life in which you allow God to lead more than others?

2) Tell of a time you followed God's lead into an unfamiliar territory. If you don't have particular experience, talk about why you think that may be.

Oh man... rubs hands together Mr. Miyagi-style...

1) This is a hard question to answer. I'd love to say, "I live my life in complete submission to the Gospel and to God's will for my life." Even if that were true, I'm not even sure I would know if it actually was the truth. Being such a tightly-wound, Type A personality, it's hard to allow God to lead me. I've actually struggled with this for much of my life, but more intentionally over the last six or seven years. I earnestly pray and try to allow God to lead in areas of decision making. This can be tricky in my marriage, but I also understand that I am to treat my husband as a Christian husband regardless of whether he is or not (i.e., we are not praying together over a decision, but I am definitely praying over the decision to be made and how we will come together to make it, if it's a situation that involves both of us). I am very excited and driven when it comes to music ministry. I have to slap myself with the humble stick on a regular basis to remind myself that a) this gift is not mine to own but is a blessing from God and is God's to use, and b) if it becomes about me, my interests, my "territory", things have gone way off track and I need to step back, humble myself, and refocus on Who, why, etc. Those two areas seem rather broad, but those are really the parts of my life that are the most apt to derail away from God. I am constantly trying to keep myself in check so that I don't find myself trying to take the reins away from God and act like I have a clue of how to run the show, so to speak.

2) Here's the question I've been waiting for!

First of all, Joshua 3 is one of the examples of why I love to read the Old Testament. It is fraught with symbolism and ritual and outlandishly amazing examples of God's master plan unraveling in the history of the world. This is big-deal stuff, everybody!

Paraphrase: Joshua addresses the Israelites and says, "Get ready. You are going to be stepping out of the box -- again -- but the cool thing -- again -- is that God will be standing in front of you, and you are to physically walk behind God. Don't worry about the fact that you have no idea where you are going. You've got the God GPS fully charged and functioning. All you have to do is prepare yourselves and keep your eyes open. Let's go!"

How many times in our lives have we gone into unchartered territory in our lives? How many times have we prayed, cried out, worried, fretted, prayed some more, consulted wise friends and family, prayed a little more, and then stepped a little toe in the direction we thought we were supposed to go? Was God behind this choice? Sure hope so. Sure think so. I mean, I prayed about it, right? But is this one of those situations where God says yes, no, or remains silent? Can someone please just tell me what to do?!? Or maybe your reaction is one of, "Never mind! Forget it! This is too hard/weird/uncomfortable/etc. I'm staying right.where.I.am."

Can I admit something? I just want to say that I'm jealous of the Israelites. They knew they were on a journey of extraordinary importance and that there was plenty of unchartered territory. But they had, in their belief, the physical presence of God walking directly in front of them. They were, essentially, walking in God's footsteps into the Promised Land just like I used to do as a kid. My dad and I would go on these wonderful long walks on my grandparents' farm through really tall grasses (tall for a kid who was probably only four feet tall). He would walk in front of me to make a path through the brush, grass, or thorny mesquite trees. All I had to do was put my foot on the exact same place where his had been, and I would have a perfectly clear passage through the central Texas wilderness. Joshua tells them, " 'When you see the ark of the covenant of the LORD your God being carried by the levitical priests, then you shall set out from your place. Follow it, so that you may know the way you should go, for you have not passed this way before...' Then Joshua said to the people, 'Sanctify yourselves; for tomorrow the LORD will do wonders among you.' " (Joshua 3:3-4a, 5; emphasis mine). The Israelites believed the God physically resided in the ark of the covenant, so this is a huge deal for them to have God leading the way so physically and symbolically.

Unfortunately, our lives are not quite this simple. We find ourselves in wildernesses or being forced to step out of the box, whether or not we want to. Almost like being shoved out of a door completely naked, only to realize you are on stage at Radio City Music Hall with the spotlight on you. This is soooo not where you want to be right now, but there is no door knob to turn and you have to stand there and deal with the situation in which you have found yourself.

My story is a long one, which I can relate in a later post because it really is worth telling, and no doubt many of you have heard it. In a nutshell, my unfamiliar territory came on November 29 and 30, 2005. That was the day my late husband, T., was involved in a motorcycle accident, and he died the following day. I was 29 years old. My daughter was 2 1/2, my son was 9 months old. We were given no choices. He suffered a ruptured carotid artery, the pressure in his brain soared, and he was gone. Just like that. Talk about a wilderness.

As overwhelming an experience as this was, I know beyond the shadow of a doubt that Omnipotent, Omnipresent, Everlasting God was present that day. There were no levitical priests carrying God in a box showing me how to handle myself, my grief, or anything like that. I just knew that I could collapse in the arms of the Father, and he would be there to catch me. In fact, God would take it a step further. God would carry me when I needed it, and when possible, God would prop me up on these shaky legs and encourage me to take baby steps on my own, much like we do with our kids when they learn to ride a bike without training wheels. I laid face down on a bathroom floor in LSU Medical Center in Shreveport, Louisiana, and my entire body and soul wept. I begged God to take this burden from me, not as I willed but as God willed. I begged God to take it from me because I could not bear it on my own. I somehow got up off that floor, faced the doctors calling time of death, brought my babies in to tell their dad good-bye, arranged the organ donations, and began the journey back to Fort Polk to begin the process of burying my husband and soul mate and figure out how to live a life without him. Every single day since then feels like unfamiliar territory. Then again, unfamiliar territory and existing outside of the box has begun to feel familiar to me. Regardless, I know that God has been here every step of the way, and as hard as it has been to follow, I fully appreciate and understand that there is truly no other way to handle it.

Favorite verse for Week Three: " '...Sanctify yourselves; for tomorrow the LORD will do wonders among you.' " -- Joshua 3:5

Backpacking Through Joshua: Week Two

2011-01-19T12:02:00.004-06:00

I feel like I've waited until the eleventh hour to post this week, which is completely different from my involvement in Week One. I still have the enthusiasm to be involved, but between some traveling, kids being sick, and snow days, it has been near impossible to wipe my nose without someone needing something from me, much less sit down to really concentrate on what I've read and the questions posed for Week Two.

That being said, Week Two has been "weird" for me.

In a stunt very much unlike me, I have held off reading any other comments or postings from this week until I had time to pen my own. I get a lot out of hearing from others about how they reacted to a text, something they've experienced, or just thoughts in general about the subject matter, but this week I wanted to have my own pure, uninfluenced opinion hammered out before I engaged in any conversation.

Why is this such a big deal? Perhaps because I can see a lot of vulnerability in these questions. I spoke with a fellow student earlier about how I've been wrestling with this week's assignment and the questions because I cannot answer them in a way that isn't authentically "me" and feel good about my post. I also feel that this is a loaded area of Christian spirituality and application that has potential to cause polarity within groups of relatively like-minded people, and I have been on the receiving end of barbs tipped with points charged with scripture and emotion in regards to this area. I'm not really sure I want to open my mouth and get this started again.

But, warts and all, I am who I am. I am committed to putting things out there and wrestling with them fairly publicly, but I want any readers to know up front that these are my personal feelings and how I understand God to have been moving in my life. None of what I write here necessarily applies to others as a blanket statement, and what I think and how I understand God's instructions for me is constantly evolving over my lifetime. I am now and will always be a work in progress. If you are extremely conservative, fundamental, messianic, or some other group who has a very narrow interpretation of scripture, you might not like what you read here. Again, this is about me, coming from my perspective, and not meant to be condemning to others. If you read past here, don't say you weren't warned!

...hello... is anyone still out there?...

OK. I'm really not a monster or a spiritual freak of nature. Just know that I am the way I am. Now, let's move on!

First thing I want to say about Joshua 2 is that it was anticlimactic to me. I read this in both NKJV and NRSV and felt like there was an entire Hollywood movie that I missed. I think there was a lot of action going on that, for whatever reason, the author was not inspired by God to include. Bummer. However, what was there has really got my wheels turning.

Question: Why did the Israelite spies go to Rahab? Had they popped in for a quickie and got caught with their pants down? (Man, I crack myself up... that's really supposed to be OT humor, but I digress.) Seriously, though, why Rahab? Several resources say that she was conveniently located seeing as she lived along the wall near the gate. Has anyone ever been near a red light district or at least heard of them? Seen ladies sitting in the windows calling down to Johns? Of course she lived on the wall -- that was prime real estate for her. Location, location, location. Why Rahab and not some other madam? Why not a man, just some average guy who might help them out? Did they rush in because she sensed they were in danger, or were they already there for other reasons when things got dicey? The commentary in my NRSV Bible, The New Oxford Annotated Bible, says that it's not clear how they came to be there, but there is an innuendo or suggestion that it might've been for sexual favors. Furthermore, the Israelite camp from which they came was infamous for being where Israelite men met with Moabite women for "extracurricular activities," so we may never really know. (Interesting sidenote: they did not go on to complete the mission that Joshua sent them on but rather took Rahab's advice about hiding.) What is the point? The point is that God has in the past and continues today to do amazing things through some of the most unlikely people, and I personally believe that is "why Rahab". Does it irritate me that these men might've been there off task from their mission? Yes. Does even that keep God's will from being accomplished in the long run. No, praise the LORD. And not a one of those men (or woman) is more sinful than me, so case closed.

I love how God chose someone like Rahab to be involved in this drama. In the grand scheme of things, this was only one of many, many times there would be important battles fought, land conquered, and so on, but for some reason, she was important to have in the picture. We hear her mentioned in Hebrews 11:31, the only female mentioned by name in the litany of faithful believers listed to illustrate the point of living a faithful life, knowing that Jesus holds our reward at the finish line in heaven. She is also one of only four women listed in the lineage of Jesus in Matthew 1, which is a big deal scripturally speaking. So for some reason, we are meant to notice this woman and how God worked through her.

But still this contribution to the historical drama of Israel seems tiny; again, why is this one incident such a big deal? And clearly this woman was not a Christian. She talks about how all the Caananites hearts melted when they heard about what God's people had been able to do and begs for mercy because she knows which side is the right one to be on in this situation. She was a nonbeliever who acted in faith on what she knew about God, and it was accorded to her as righteousness in the annals of history... Hmm... interesting...

Then the questions for this week take a completely different turn because they talk about witnessing our faith through actions and living a life consistent with what we say we believe. I tried focusing on the word study for "worthy," but those of you who have heard me rant about certain words that are overused in reference to God will understand that I kinda petered out on that task. HisGirl mercifully helped me find an appropriate synonym, deserving. And as much as I prefer that word now, it's still kind of a no-brainer for me. Of course God is deserving of our love and adoration, deserving of a people who will be faithful to God's teachings, deserving of praise and thanks, and so on, ad infinitum.

Since this post is already long, I will cut right to the "Putting It Out There" Q&A:

1) Have you ever been influenced in either a positive or negative way concerning your relationship with Jesus? How does this influence your behaviour now?

2) How much responsibility do you think Christians have to live a particular way?

OK, ready or not, here I come...

1) In general, I'm going to say most of my influences have been positive. The first two people I think of are my mother and grandmother, giants in the faith in my life who are part of the reason I am who I am today and have exposed me to the love of Christ since I could probably understand my own name. There are countless others who have influenced me not by preaching or teaching, but by being examples to me of what it means to apply Christian beliefs into everyday living. These were not people who pontificated about alcohol or premarital sex. They were hard working, loving people who treated you like you were a Christian brother or sister, whether or not you really were. I think of the words, "kind," "gentle," and "compassionate" when I think about these people. There have been so many other precious friends along the way who have taught me so much about who God is and how to be open and receptive to a bona fide relationship with Christ that I know I would still be in the depths of despair were it not for these God-chosen, God-placed friendships. To list them all could take pages and pages, and I feel so blessed to be able to say that.

There have been a couple of negative influences along the way, of course. I think some of the experiences I've had, even fleeting ones, with extremely evangelical, conservative, fundamental churches or denominations have really hardened my heart toward many other Christians, which I find so sad and I know is not good. I hate that I feel that way, but if I'm really honest with myself, it's truly how I feel. The way I have seen scripture-based "righteous" hatred being handed out like tracts in an airport makes me angry and sick and, quite frankly, don't see how this conveys the love of Christ to anyone. It brings to mind the words in I John 4, especially vv. 11-12: "Beloved, since God loved us so much, we also ought to love one another. No one has ever seen God; if we love one another, God lives in us, and his love is perfected in us." Another influence for better or worse was actually one that I never saw coming. Going through my two year training to be a parish lay minister exposed me to a lot of behind-the-scenes type church stuff as well as a lot of academic focus on faith, scripture and history. While this has opened up so many avenues of contemplation for me, it has almost crippled me as well. Sometimes I find myself longing for the day when I would read something, take it at face value, and have such a simple, unadulterated faith. I wish I could go back to that but I can't. It's like trying to pretend you never heard the truth about the Tooth Fairy or Santa Claus. It has jaded me on some things but actually strengthened my core beliefs (I think) in some ways, so I guess that's been a mixed blessing.

Lastly, being married to a man who has vastly different religious, well, opinions (don't think he would call them beliefs) has been one of those positive and negative influences as well. To most Christians, they would say, "Yes, unequally yoked backslider, tell us more about this. Of course this is negative. You think there's something positive here? Sure, why don't you go ahead and share that???" OK, I will. Positives: In conversations where he has really put me to the test to articulate what I believe or what God says about certain things, there were many times when I knew what I wanted to say but lacked the right way to express it. Not being one to lay down a white flag or let someone else claim conversational victory (yes, I admit this is a huge, sinful pride issue at work here), these conversations really forced me to take a hard look at things and find answers for these questions that I could say that I believed 100%. If anything, he has inadvertently strengthened my resolve and helped me to get down to the basics of what/how I believe. Also, despite his feelings being so completely differently from mine, we all still attend church together, prayers and devotions are still done with the kids, and he openly supports decisions I have made about where to attend church, how I want to be involved (or the kids), and so on. I may be the one leading the march in the family, but he has always been committed to supporting me and has been unwavering on this, which blesses my heart so much. My late husband, a baptized Christian, was not near as supportive in this department, and while he had a deep, abiding faith that really amazed me at times, this was an area of that relationship which was neglected or even strongly discouraged, which I found oppressive emotionally. I finally feel like I have the freedom to respond to God's call without fear of reprimand or resentment, which is such a huge relief.

Negatives: I hate that I do not have a faith partner in him. There are many ways in which we struggle to understand each other because we are so different in how we function spiritually. HisGirl said that she really doesn't have anything in common with nonbelievers. On a certain level I can agree with that in my life, but I cannot agree 100%. I find that I have plenty in common with my husband (and other nonbelievers); however, when I try to see things through their eyes sometimes, I feel like we speak different languages. Something is lost in translation and I will never in a million years be able to wrap my mind about how they go about things or react to situations. I do not like that I cannot pray with him, nor can I ask him to pray for me. Oh, I pray for him constantly. Actually I've been praying for him for years before I even met him, but that's a different story altogether. If I was on my deathbed and I asked him to pray for me, would he? Maybe. I know he would tell me whatever I needed to hear to give me peace, but I don't know if he would follow through. If I was going through a cancer treatment and was scared to death and asked him to pray for me? Probably not, because he would tell you that God has nothing to do with the strength in my resolve to beat the disease and the amazing medical care I would receive. I hate that he will never understand me on a spiritual-cellular level because he just doesn't share my beliefs and these things are just as odd and foreign to him as he is to me in this area. Now, some of this could change with time. We dated for three years and then married in March 2010, so we are still relatively newlywed. Time -- and God -- will tell. In that I do have faith. I also have faith that this faith and belief given to me by God so that I can be a Christian servant of mankind cannot be taken away from me by the nonbelief of another human being. My husband, children, friends or neighbors could not remove this from my heart because to do so would be to disrupt the very DNA of who I am. I also do not believe foolishly that I can pray my husband into heaven or sway him into belief. My prayer is that God would continue to move in his life in real, tangible ways, just like God has so clearly moved in my life, and that my husband's heart would not be hardened to that experience and respond to God. If I truly believe in the power of prayer, that is the best way I can handle the situation.

2) I think you will have as many interpretations of this question and the "appropriate" answer as you have living, breathing humans who read it. My standard for living may exceed or be far inferior to that of other Christians. I almost don't know how to fairly answer this question. If you are a Christian and you cause others to work on the Sabbath, does that make you unobservant of the law? What about those who baptize infants? What about those denominations that rebaptize you when you join their church? What about people like me who marry someone whose faith is not identical to their own? What about Christians who consume caffeine or alcoholic beverages? Have had sex before marriage, even if was only with the person they ended up marrying?

I am reminded of one of the songs I learned in the Lutheran church as a child, "They'll Know We Are Christians By Our Love." This song really captures the essence of living the Christian life for me. How will we be known? By the fruits we bear. By our love, by working side by side, by walking hand in hand. I strive to be one of those Christians who people will come up to and say, "What is it about you? There is something different about you, and I can't quite place it or wrap my mind around it..." I want people to see a flawed, real person who doesn't have the perfect marriage, perfect kids, or even a real idea of what she wants to be when she grows up but can say each and every day of her life that "the steadfast love of the LORD never ceases, his mercies never come to an end; they are new EVERY morning; GREAT IS THY FAITHFULNESS!!!" (Lamentations 3:22-23, emphasis mine). I want them to question, after all I've been through, how sick I am that I am still willing to stand up and proclaim that when the "normal" response would be to feel angry, bitter, self-righteous, etc. That is when the real conversation can begin on why I can say that, how I know Jesus personally, and to be able to share that kind of testimony with people is something that I consider a huge responsibility. To simply say that Christians must live a life that is consistent with what God says through the scriptures and to not do that is to not really be a Christian or is irresponsible, "unsaved" behaviour is a narrow view that I really question. I don't believe in tossing the Ten Commandments aside like they don't mean anything; however, I think my interpretation of how God wants me to conduct myself is a little different than some would appreciate, and trust me -- many just don't. I really don't want to slam how others feel that the Holy Spirit is leading them to focus and conduct their lives, but I really struggle with honoring opinions of others who use the blood of the Lamb as a line of demarcation in society.

Phew! That wasn't so bad, was it? :)

My favorite verse from Week Two: "For we have heard how the LORD dried up the water of the Red Sea before you when you came out of Egypt, and what you did to the two kings of the Amorites that were beyond the Jordan, to Sihon and Og, whom you utterly destroyed. As soon as we heard it, our hearts melted, and there there was no courage left in any of us because of you. The LORD your God is indeed God in heaven above and on earth below." -- Joshua 2:10-11

I'm Frustrated (Surprise)

2011-01-14T08:28:00.005-06:00

I'm frustrated. Feeling out of whack, out of control, and I don't know what else. And I don't like it. I don't feel a rant coming on. I just don't know what I feel. Did I mention that I don't like this one bit?

There is a group of women with whom I am involved and to whom I feel somewhat responsible. My area of responsibility is music, which should come as no surprise. Many of you know that one of the joys of my life is to be involved with worship, be it at a church, PWOC, or in any venue where God places me to utilize this gift to reach people. It's a gift that I take seriously (perhaps too seriously?), and I will never just get up and "wing it" because I feel that is irresponsible behavior. To me, this is a first fruits issue. If I truly believe that God has blessed me with the gift of being able to play a musical instrument and lead worship, then I should also not be offering God and others sloppy seconds, just whatever I could throw together at the last minute. I want my offering to rise up as fragrant incense; I mean, is that so bad?

Yes and no.

Yes -- when it becomes a matter of perfection and performance. When it becomes about what my goals and dreams are. When it becomes songs that I just want to hear or like to play. When the focus is not on how God will reach out and touch hearts based on their interaction with the worship.

No -- when worship is presented for the right reasons. When things workout how they are supposed to, regardless of time, talent, or other possible limitations. When I can take myself out of the picture and see worship for what it really is: a sacrifice of praise, a holy offering, personal and corporate time spent further developing a relationship with the Almighty.

So why am I frustrated? Honestly today it has only a little to do with the music. What hurts my heart is that I see an opportunity to serve sisters in Christ that could be such a blessing -- it already is to those of us who attend, but it has so much potential to reach and bless so many more -- and obstacles coming up every time we turn around. There are days when I feel positive and optimistic about where things are going, and other days when I think, "Why do we bother? Why should I bother?"

Anybody who has attended a class, church service, etc., that takes place on a piece of property that is being loaned out or first-come-first-served or so on knows that you always need a contingency plan, and we seem to roll with punches pretty well when things like this come our way. What frustrates me is, I suppose, a matter of circumstances: we have had to push off our spring semester kickoff for the last two weeks, one due to illness and many members not being able to come, and the other due to local school district closures due to inclement weather. These are all things over which we have no control. Now, for the third week, we are looking at another important and unavoidable obstacle that we might be able to overcome, but it just doesn't feel right to me. Not the overcoming part, but how we are having to go about being flexible and carry on with Plan B. I am not a leader or decision maker, but of course, me and my big mouth, I offered a suggestion which was not appropriate to what the needs are perceived to be next week. Personally, not a big deal. I'm more concerned with which study I will take, actually a source of confusion for me as I discern which one God wants me in, not the one that sounds like more fun. I digress...

So what's the real issue here? I don't know. I want to be self-indulgent and throw a fit and holler, "No!" when things don't go my way. I'm so befuddled I don't even know where to start in Scripture to address why my heart is so heavy for this ministry and even my own personal needs; I simply know that's where I will find balm for this wound.

Here's how the worship piece fits into this picture, however: the worship that has been part of our program seems to have been a real blessing to the ladies, from all the feedback I have heard. And it is so amazing to watch everyone at their various points of interaction and worship as we play. So I know we've been on the right track. As I sat down weeks ago to begin looking at the worship to be programmed, I poured over music, playing for hours and really soaking in the words, the tempo, all of the various ways I work through this process. I gathered together songs that really seemed to meet the needs of a group of women whose ages, life experiences, and preferences are quite varied and let them set and simmer for a while. In fact, I walked away for a week or so. As I sat back down with these songs, I really began to sense where they were leading. And the last song in particular was a real shocker for me. I felt a distinct urging that people needed to hear this one, and I needed to offer Jesus to people specifically through this song. This is not something that is comfortable or natural for me to do in public, but it seemed so timely. It was a call to come -- to Christ, to minister to each other, to grow in the Word, to fellowship.

This womens' ministry has so much potential to reach and nurture so many people. There are some amazing women of God who are already involved and have been such a blessing to get to know. The people I hear scoff this group or who come a time or two (and this does not apply to everyone, obviously) usually blow it off as irrelvant to them, they'd rather be involved in something with ladies their own age, etc. It's like they don't see Jesus standing there, hand open and extended, waiting for them to simply walk with him. What they see is people who don't look like them, who are not at the same stage of life as them, or maybe other things that I'm not even aware of and they think, "I've got better things to do." You know, we could all use one more day of quiet and solitude around the house after kids and spouses take off to embark on their days. Who doesn't have a laundry list of things they could do to occupy their time, meaningful things?

One of the reasons this is an issue so near and dear to my heart is because I know what this ministry, and the women who have yoked up alongside me from it, has meant in my life. The presence of God has never been more real in my life than the times I have been spiritually nourished by my involvement here and uplifted by the forever-friends I have made as a result. It is one of the few things in my life that I really feel motivated to put a lot of effort into outside of things that directly support my children's school or my husband's job. I really feel strong about this.

I feel so strongly about this that I know it's probably super annoying to many people. But to say no to this feels in my heart like people are saying, "Jesus, when you've got the right people gathered, with the right programs for me (or my kids or my spouse), when it jives with my schedule, I'll be there."

That being said, let's look at what's more likely the reality of the situation.

You've got to have relevance if you want to keep people involved in an organization. You do have to be able to meet their needs, or at least be working toward it. (Which I think we are.) You do have to make things easily accessible and available, otherwise it's not just a burden on someone's schedule -- it can put undue stress on children, marriages, and so on. And there is a 100% likelihood that the Holy Spirit might be calling this person into fellowship or service elsewhere.

As a person who has been involved with worship, planning worship, serving with ministries and church leaders, and a good old fashioned congregant sitting in the pews, I can tell you the two things that grab attention: music and programs. Does the music sound good, and is there something being offered that appeals to me? Those are pretty basic needs or requirements for people. I am not in charge of the studies that are offered. The only thing I impact is the worship. All we can do as leaders of this ministry is try to meet these ladies' needs and pray that they will be moved to continue on their faith journey alongside us.

So where, then, does this leave me? And what have I solved by posting this?

Same place I started. And not a darned thing.

So I will start back at Square One. Maybe this is a huge "NOT YET" for me to grasp. Who knows. All I know is that there is a God, and I'm not him. In the meantime, enjoy this amazing, powerful song.

Chosen

2011-01-12T14:27:00.002-06:00

I had all these sweet, lovely plans for this blog, #200. You would think I had developed a sense of grace or style over the previous 199 blogs, but I must admit I'm feeling a little guilty for yesterday's uninhibited flow of mental chum that had built up to the point of bursting. The fact of the matter is that I am such a work in progress that it's not even funny. I feel inadequate to preach any sermons or give advice when I should deal with the plank in my own eye first. That being said, let's move on to bigger and brighter things!

We found out a little before Thanksgiving that God has blessed us with another baby, and by now I'm just over 11 weeks pregnant. We were feeling a little gun shy after having miscarried in early September and decided to wait until the end of the first trimester to say much of anything about it to anyone besides our parents. Well, we made it to 11 weeks which is still technically the first trimester, but it's still further than the last pregnancy had progressed.

I'll admit: I've had a nasty case of paranoia this time around. Some might say that's not abnormal considering I recently miscarried. I feel like I might be a little bit crazy but am so hopeful that we actually get to meet this child this time. I know that I am taking care of myself, probably better than I ever have before, so 99% of this is in God's hands. I prayed some time ago that, whenever God chose to bless us again with another baby, that I would have every possible pregnancy symptom so that I would know, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that I was pregnant and could always tell that I hadn't miscarried again. Ladies and gentlemen, I am thrilled to report that we serve a faithful God who really does answer prayer! I've had morning sickness (which I've never experienced before) and worse acne than any teenager could ever imagine. While these and other symptoms have been uncomfortable and not something I really want to experience, I'm really trying to keep a positive attitude about it and not complain. If I'm still enduring all these symptoms, I know that I am still pregnant and prayer is answered.

This was such an exciting thing to finally be able to share with Li'l G and Bud. We were having chocolate cake one afternoon, and we put a candle on my piece. The kids were very curious as to whose candle it was and why there was only one. R. asked them who in our family was so little that they were close to being one year old. They didn't quite get it, so we asked who in our family had not celebrated their first birthday yet. Of course, they both thought it was the dog, who truthfully has not celebrated her first birthday yet. However, we said that there was a new baby on the way who was going to be the youngest member of the family! They were so thrilled. To top it all off, I pointed out to Bud, who leads our family in all the mealtime prayers, that he had prayed before every meal, every day since the miscarriage, for God to send us another baby, and look what had happened as a result! Talk about a real-life teachable moment! Li'l G immediately smiled and closed her eyes, tossed back her sweet head, and shouted, "Thank you, LORD!" Pretty amazing kids.

I've been doing a lot of reflecting lately about many subjects, but my thoughts have especially been with my kids. Bud has had some weird, chronic stomach pain going on three months, and Li'l G has had trouble falling asleep lately. Nothing big, just things that tug on a mother's heart. As I was drying my hair the other day, noticing how physically I have already begun changing, I was conversating with God. I feel a little guilty calling it praying. I really feel as though I've got God on speakerphone on my iPhone, and I just pick it up and chat with God as I go through my day. At any rate, I was mulling over these things and really at a loss for how best to help my children and telling God that today, as with every other day, I lifted them up. In fact, I give them up to God daily. I realized just after giving birth to Li'l G that I am beyond blessed that God chose me to be their natural mother, but that God is their Heavenly Father who can love them more completely than I ever could, who will always be near to them when I am far away, who can watch over and protect them, guard their hearts and cover their little ears, guide them down the right paths in life, and so on. To me, they are on loan from God. They are God's creations, not mine, and it is my distinct privilege to be their mother. During this conversation, I realized that I had been chosen once more to bring another little life into the world, to nurture and love him or her, to raise this child and help them grow into an adult who will thrive and be a blessing to others. I know this is a massive stretch, but it did make me think about Mary, the mother of Jesus. She and I are both human and therefore sinful by nature, yet both of us were chosen to be stewards of a precious little life. Now, Mary's child and mine may not exactly be comparable, but Jesus did not only belong to Mary. She was called to give birth to Jesus, nurture and love him throughout his days, and you know a part of her saw her child as Jesus was beaten, suffering and dying. As a mother I can't begin to know the depths of her human pain. I know how much it hurts to see my children in any kind of pain, but her experience was on such a different level. It just makes me think how blessed it is to bear life into this world. And thinking about parents who may not be birth parents, I believe they are still chosen by God to be that particular child's parents and stewards in this life. You don't have to have devoted DNA to someone to have been chosen. And that is truly a holy honor.

Let The Airing of Grievances Begin!

2011-01-11T06:34:00.010-06:00

I tell ya, I have been on a real tear now for a while. Every five minutes yesterday I picked up my phone to tweet about something that was really gettin' under my skin, but thankfully I listened to my conscience and reconsidered, lest I post something that was just rude and cranky. But I realized as the day progressed that I may not be the only person out here who feels this way, and sometimes a good rant is just in order. I really am not angry about anything, just a little irritated here and there. Kinda like sporadic diaper rash or something, I don't know. There are just a few grievances I'd like to get out in the open. In the spirit of Festivus, as Mr. Constanza would say, let the grievances begin!

First of all, if you haven't seen the Festivus clips from "Seinfeld," here ya go:

If you are a "Seinfeld" fan, you will find this hysterical; otherwise, skip it. Let's hit it!

SUZANNE SOMERS

This is really what got it all started for me yesterday. I had come home from a walk and working in the yard and was changing clothes in my room. It is my habit to turn on the local NBC affiliate in the morning to check news and weather, and I must have left the TV on after I went downstairs to get on with my day. Either way, "Live With Regis and Kelly" was on, which I normally miss since the TV is normally off by that time of day. Suzanne Somers was the guest, and she was promoting a book she recently "wrote". It FLOORED me how this movie star was going on and on about how she sits in restaurants and criticizes people. She claimed that, if a person has a puffy face, then you know they are gluten intolerant. Really, Dr. Somers? I'm gluten intolerant? Oh, wait a minute... I'M PREGNANT! Maybe my lower abdominal swelling is due to the presence of strains of candida replicating out of control in my rotten gut like you suggest... Oh, wait yet another minute... That would be MY BABY. Wow, too bad you spent all that time and money on medical school to incorrectly diagnose my puffy face and bloated gut... Oh, wait yet another minute... you HAVEN'T attended medical school! That's right! I just wanted to barf (not morning sickness) as she proceeded to condescend to Seth Meyers and Kelly Ripa and the audience about all the ills of our diets, lifestyles, ad nauseum. If you go to her website and blog, you get more of her edicts from on high about hormones, the crappy food we eat, and basically how the medical community is a bunch of three year-olds playing dress up and wearing adult-sized stethoscopes. In her blog she quotes all sorts of medical journals and articles. I would do a Man v. Food chili dog challenge if she has read even 5% of the articles she quotes. If she wants me to take her seriously, then she needs to go to school, pay her dues, and put "M.D." after her name. Until then, she can go sit with Sean Penn and Woody Harrelson in a corner booth at an exclusive Hollywood dive and bore them to death. I mean, where on earth would we be without these theatrical prophets in the wilderness?!?

DOGS THAT POOP ON CARPET

Does this really need explanation? I am at the end of my rope dealing with my dog and her psychotic bowels. Just because you smell a place where you had a LEGITIMATE accident four months ago does not give you free reign to drop it like it's hot on the stairs. Ever.

POLITICAL WARFARE IN THE MEDIA

OK, guys, are we seriously turning the tragedy in Arizona into a Sarah Palin story? I think most of us could've told you over 225 years ago that there were going to be radicals reacting to the passionate, extreme rhetoric we hear in the political arenas. People died at the hands of a young man who smiled like a demon in his mug shot. I'd really rather focus on the stories of the lives impacted than a) give this guy any more media attention or b) turn this into partisan politics and finger pointing.

On one hand, looking at the current state of politics in our nation, a part of me really loves the fact that people are getting hot and bothered and pushing back. It reminds me of famous quotes from history, such as, "Give me liberty or give me death!" which are an indelible part of our national fabric. It was these crazy, radical individuals that dumped the tea into Boston Harbor, wrapped their feet in wrags and fought the British in the snow, and penned the words to our national anthem. There is, however, too much of a good thing. Where is the line that is crossed between being patriotic and being a menace to society? That may seem like hyperbole, but in the retrospective light of history, it might not be. I loved hearing people get up at town hall meetings over the last year or two and talk over senators to be sure they got the point about the Obamacare situation. I love the fact that the voters have really turned things upside down in the last two elections. It gives me hope that this nation still has a pulse and really cares enough about its future to exercise its power at the polls. At the same time, too much of a good thing can be its own undoing. Why is it so offensive to talk politics amongst intelligent adult company? Because you might offend someone. Oh dear. If we could restore civility in our society at large, we would be able to have these coherent, respectful debates and still get somewhere without the gun imagery, crosshairs, name calling, eye rolling, and crazy madmen coming out of the woodwork. But in an age where road rage is more common that good manners, I guess we're going to have to either come to terms with the state of things or get off our butts and take our society back before the nutjobs run it into the ground. I won't even get started on the power of prayer here. This is enough of a righteous rant to begin with...

BATTLE HYMN OF THE TIGER MOTHER

This is actually a rave. I was so proud of this woman I could have kissed her square on the mouth. I will admit I've taken to watching "The Today Show" in the morning, partly because it's NYC hype and I live in this general part of the country now, and also because it comes on after my local news and weather go off in the morning during the pre-school routine. At any rate, I am fully aware of the left-wing tendencies of this show and tend to take it with a grain of salt; in fact, I do enjoy it most days. That being said, Meredith Viera interviewed a woman today who is Chinese and a mother of two daughters. This woman has written a book with the title shown above. In a nutshell, she talks about how her strict parenting can raise "perfect" kids. Now, we all know that kids stand as much chance at being perfect as we do at being called up personally by Hugh Hefner after giving birth to a couple of eight- or nine pounders and asked to be a centerfold. But I digress. What I loved was this: Meredith Viera was clearly trying to get this mother to admit that her parenting style was extreme and ineffective. This lady clearly articulated her beliefs and did not cave in to Viera's leading line of questioning, but rather stood her ground and further expanded on exactly what type of parenting practices she's talking about. She admitted to some failures with one of her daughters and talked about how much even her parenting has changed. Score One for mom right there. Here is the best part: the mother mentioned that she thought it was odd that everyone is calling this "Chinese parenting," when in her opinion, this used to be traditional Western parenting. BINGO! Game, set, match for Tiger Mom! She talked about how disrespectful children are allowed to behave, how little supervision they have, the unfettered liberties they are given, and the lack of clear boundaries that are supporting our kids making terrible choices in their lives -- drugs, alcohol, teenage pregnancy to name only a few. And the Today show definitely painted her to be the bad guy in how they worded things: no playdates, mandatory piano and violin lessons, no complaining, all A's on report cards and nothing less, etc. When she spoke, she talked about taking family bike rides and spending time together as a family; she was standing there next to her daughter supervising her piano practice. Just for a minute, let's have a show of hands: how many parents reading this right now usually drop off their child at a sports or music practice and either stay in the car or drive away to run errands, take another child to another activity, etc.? What I saw was a mother taking her family back from the influence of pop culture and pop culture parenting. Good.For.Her!

DEBATES ON FACEBOOK

Clearly, as evidenced on this blog today and many other times, I enjoy a lively reparte. Sometimes I may stir things up just to make conversation interesting, but more times than not I am speaking about something that has caused me personal conviction, I have a unique personal experience, or so on. The debates I have seen over relatively trivial issues on Facebook blows my mind! Case in point: Sing4Joy posted something the other day about getting rid of a Tempurpedic bed. Someone immediately suggested the ~~evil~~ Sleep Number mattress. The debate that ensued was nothing short of passionate. I clearly saw more than one person seeming to be huffy that others were posting negative reviews of this product and preferred something else over it. Really? Seriously?!? Of course I added my two cents' worth to the mix. My experience was that I had slept on the dreaded Sleep Number mattress the night before a ten mile race and woke up feeling as if I had been beaten up and down my spine with baseball bats all night. I was stiff and almost sore, kind of like I thought I would feel after running ten miles but not prior to said event. One of the pro-Sleep Number postees inquired ever so gently, "Are you sure it wasn't nerves? Most people have problems with nerves before big races." (or something to that effect). Really?!? I had no idea. Thank you for identifying that problem for me. I have never entered an athletic event before, nor have I ever experienced pre-event jitters. Wow. Thanks. Definitely could not have been the $5,000 AIR MATTRESS I was sleeping on. Definitely not.

SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE

I'm going to end this blog with a rave and stick up for another underdog. I was listening to one of my favorite local radio stations on this new iPhone app I picked up for $0.99 (best ninety-nine cents I've ever spent!) and there was a commercial for their lunchtime flashback hour. They play '80s hits over the lunch hour and the commercial had this lady talking about all the glory of the '80s, like when "Saturday Night Live" was still funny. You know, I've had about enough of hearing this, and I'm fairly certain many of the actors over the last twenty years have had it, too. We have seen some real comedic talent come out of the Not Ready For Prime Time Players, or the comedic cast of SNL. Show of hands: how many of you agree with the lady in the commercial? OK, put your hands down if you think Will Farrell, Adam Sandler, Tracy Morgan and Jimmy Fallon are at all entertaining. What about Tina Fey, Amy Poehler, Cheri Oteri, Molly Shannon, or Ana Gasteyer? These men and women are actually quite good at what they do, and if you watch more often than every five years, it's easy to see what each person's strength is. Many of these actors have developed characters that are just as popular as Roseanne Rosannadanna or the Coneheads. Do the Spartan cheerleaders or Mary Katherine Gallagher come to mind? Maya Rudolph and Kristen Wiig are some of the funniest ladies I've seen lately as well. True, the writing for the show has had its ups and downs over the years, but overall the actors are pretty darned good. If you have ever liked SNL in the past and have stopped watching it because it's not as funny as it used to be when you were about 13, do yourself a favor and watch it again for the next several weeks. You might be surprised that you see some really good stuff going on there. Personally I find this a lot more entertaining that many of the other options on TV these days, but then again I'm hard to please. No way!!!

Now that the airing of grievances is over, on to the Feats of Strength, George!

Backpacking Through Joshua -- Week One

2011-01-07T11:28:00.003-06:00

So the much-awaited day has finally come! Today kicked off an in-depth online Bible study of the Book of Joshua written by HisGirl, "Backpacking Through Joshua". I quickly wolfed down my lunch, got my Bible, my handy-dandy four colored pen, and curled up on the couch for some time in the Word.

We are taking this chapter by chapter. I decided to use my NRSV (New Revised Standard Version) New Oxford Annotated Bible for this study. I froth with pure delight at the thought of how rich the Old Testament is, and this particular version was a useful resource during my parish lay ministry classes. It's almost as though you have the benefit of picking a seminarian's brain if you desire commentary and the ability to simply read sans the linguistic flourishes (thee, thou, mayest, etc.), and modern "spin" (i.e., The Message). Like taking Biblical text, washing it with soap and warm water, letting it air dry, and you've gotten any residue off that may cloud what you're seeing. What I plan on doing is reading through each week in my NRSV and then looking at it again through another version, probably NKJV (New King James Version) or NLT (New Living Translation). Personally I find it can be such a blessing to look at the same text through the lens of several translations, but for my inital read I'd like to keep it a little more academic. Because that's just how I roll.

So, I read through the introduction and devoured chapter one.

Now what?!?

That was too short! Anticlimactic!

Then again, I have this problem in life as a general rule. Rather than being more deliberate, letting things sink in, or pondering upon things, I seem to constantly in a state of hyper-stimulation, hence the "now what" mentality. What the good LORD has been trying to show me for years now is that I need to put on the brakes and coast a while. I love how HisGirl has been encouraging us to not feel pressured to sit down and do this all in one sitting; rather, we can work through this at a slower pace and truly ruminate over what the Holy Spirit wants us to take away from this time spent in the Word. Another word I find myself using a lot so far this year is savor: there are so many things I want to take the time to savor in my life, lest they slip by, precious days and experiences never to be had again. I want to savor these words and value every one of them, so I will resist the temptation to work ahead or be in a hurry.

ASKING GOD

Each week we will have several questions to ponder. This week's questions:

1) What does this passage tell me about Your character?

2) Is there anything keeping me from being able to do what You're calling me to do? In what area(s) can I improve? Observing the law? Meditating on the Word? Getting moving?

3) Do I truly believe God is faithful? Do I believe He will not fail me or forsake me? Does my behavior reflect this? Why or why not?

My responses:

1) As chapter one opens, God is speaking directly to Joshua. God gives him exact, direct instructions about what he is to do and how he is to do it. God reminds him of the promises made to Moses about providing a home land. This tells me that there will be times when God will speak clearly and directly in our lives. Furthermore, God reassures Joshua at least three times to be strong and courageous. This tell me that God is our number one fan, cheering us on and giving us the pep talk we need sometimes to get up and get going! Lastly, God reminds Joshua that God will be faithful to him. Just like a parent asking their child to jump to them in the pool, God reminding Joshua of God's solidarity and reliability in v. 5b. Some versions say that God will never leave or forsake; some say fail or abandon. Either way, God is clearly here to stay.

2) In which area can improve? Uh, hello -- ALL of them! The one I most readily see and to which I fully admit is meditating on the Word. I have not been involved in a Bible study -- a truly thirst-slaking, enriching delving into Scripture -- since my parish lay ministry studies, and then it was so cerebral and academic that it was almost, well, I won't say faith-shaking, but at times muddling or confusing. It was great stuff academically, but sometimes that is a fine line to walk, and it can have long-term effects on beliefs. I digress. I finally got back into PWOC, but it was more of a study of Christian living. The points were good in the study book, but I found less and less time to devote to proper study and it fell by the wayside. Maybe I'm also falling short on getting moving, as in getting motivated to be disciplined about being consistent and setting aside reading/study time. It's my prayer that the level of accountability with this study will aide me in working in this area.

3) In a word, yes, yes, and mostly yes. Now let's unpack this:

Basically, yes, I do believe that God is faithful. If you've read more than one post on this blog, you understand that I have personal experience with God in this category. When I step back from the timeline that is my life and look for God's fingerprints of faithfulness on it, I can clearly see them everywhere. But up close and on the day-to-day level, it's not always so easily to acknowledge. I feel like major scum admitting this "out loud," but I am trying to be completely transparent here. I struggled for days/weeks/months/maybe even years with this concept after T. died, and even occasionally since then. I need to remind myself to step back and look for those fingerprints of faithfulness more often and appreciate the regularity with which they occur. And be thankful.

Basically, yes, I do believe that God will not leave me or forsake me. For some reason this concept is much easier for me to accept. Even though it was hard to feel thrilled about what was supposed to be God's faithfulness even when life was fairly miserable, I never once doubted God's presence and knowledge of my life, my heart, my situation. Even in the depths of grief and bewilderment I never felt alone. True, there have been times when God felt farther away than others, but that was mostly on my part. I would withdraw and be distant, but God was still -- always -- there, waiting. Being patient. Not demanding of my love, my attention, my time. Just waiting. As my icy heart would thaw, I would finally seek God again, sometimes in relief and joy, sometimes tucking my tail between my legs in remorse. I may have left/forsaken/abandoned, but God never did that to me. Not once. Not even when I deserved it. That is such a sweet, humbling thought to me...

As far as my behavior goes, I said mostly yes but I couldn't say that absolutely for sure. I know how I feel deep down in the core of Me, and I know that core will not change. That makes it easy for me to say, Why certainly my life reflects this! Isn't it obvious?!?, when to the casual observer, or maybe even close friend, my life may seem completely incongruent to what I truly believe. I think for me, the times during which my behavior has appeared to lack in this area, my beliefs never changed, but trying to express those beliefs from a place of grief, confusion, overwhelmedness (is that even a word?), or stress has not been particularly successful for me. I know and believe that Satan preys on us in our weaknesses and at our lowest points, and we become very reactive. When you're in that state of being reactive, that does not really reflect a heart that knows God and trusts God to be faithful. That doesn't reflect a trust that God is the reliable One about whom we read in places like Joshua 1. This is a constant, daily gut check for me. I do believe I've moved to a place in my life (again) where I need to hear these things, and I am receptive of these promises and can truly appreciate the fact that I know from experience that they are true.

PUTTING IT OUT THERE

This last section is the part truly meant for discussion in the groups. Two questions:

1) What made you decide to join this adventure? What do you hope will come from the study?

2) In what ways have you found God to be faithful recently? If you have a hard time answering this, why do you think that is?

My responses:

1) I've sort of answered this already -- see answers to #2 and #3. Really, my life has been lacking this deep, meaty substance in the spiritual category. I don't want to just be labeled, "Christian," "Lutheran," "PWOCer," etc. Labels, like covers of books, can be deceiving and not truly represent what you find on the inside. Just like human relationships, I believe that a relationship with God takes a little work on our part -- we can't cultivate a relationship with someone unless we avail ourselves to them, and so it is with God. I'm at a time in my life where I need to restore this relationship a) because I know I need to and it's a priority to me, plain and simple, and b) because I believe, for me, that it is risky to take a single step in life without having the assurance of a relationship with my God.

2) There are any number of ways I could answer this. The absolute best way I have found recently will probably be one of my next blogs...

And so I wrap up my reflections on Week One. I cannot wait to see what this study has in store for myself and all of the other ladies who have committed to participate. I'm really looking forward to reading all of their reflections and responses to see the Holy Spirit working in their lives and wonder how some of their experience might impact my life at some point. Either way, this promises to be an exciting, insightful journey!

My favorite verse from this week: "...As I was with Moses, so I will be with you; I will not fail you or forsake you." -- Joshua 1:5b

Looking Behind, Forward, and Within

2011-01-02T15:03:00.003-06:00

So I meant to write a sort of "2010 in review" type blog on New Year's Eve, but things were crazy busy as we were preparing to have friends over to help us ring in 2011. I want to put 2010 on the shelf and open up the books on 2011, so let's take a stroll down Amnesia Lane, shall we?

LOOKING BEHIND -- 2010

1. Natural Disasters. 2010 was a hallmark year for Mother Nature, don't you think? The earthquake that hit Haiti almost a year ago is still big news as cholera and hurricanes pummel this forlorn place. There have been equally beautiful and disgusting stories that have emerged from Haiti, and I for one hope that God spares these people for a few generations. Wow.

Not too long after that we had other major earthquakes that threatened places like Hawai'i with tsunamis half a world away, that crazy volcano erupted in Iceland and threw air travel amuck, and then, as if Louisiana hasn't been smacked around enough, the Deepwater Horizon oil well began belching crude into the Gulf of Mexico. I don't think the human mind can actually comprehend numbers over about 100 or 200 sometimes. Just to think about the amount of water in the Gulf of Mexico is completely mind numbing, but to think about the volume of oil lost in the Gulf -- and the potential revenue at the gas pump -- also blows my cogs asunder. And as much as Hollywood loves to put depressing songs to video clips of oil-drenched pelicans and scold us for not being greener, I think the only people with a real grasp of what this oil spill really means for this ecosystem are the scientists. People, the real horror has probably not even yet begun.

2. H1N1. Remember when we were all worried about this? And all of a sudden there was a shortage of vaccines? I think the scariest part was the number of school aged children who actually died as a result of this virus. As a parent, it is so scary when your kids get something like a virus. You have to wait for some of these things to run their course, and I do not care for things I cannot control. Bud actually got H1N1, but we caught it in time and he did not develop some of the scary symptoms that others had. Close enough of a call for me!

3. Major sports events. Uh, were there Olympics last year? I remember, as a kid, this was such a big deal. I really don't remember this even being on last year. Apparently they were in Canada, which could explain it. I don't keep up much with Canada I guess. Add to that list the World Cup, which apparently took place in Africa. All I remember was people complaining about vuvuzelas and an octopus that was consistently picking the winners of matches. Guess I don't keep up with Africa, either.

4. Facebook. HELLO! This is something with which I have some knowledge! Finally! Facebook has been around since 2004, but it really seemed to reach its stride this year. Anyone who's anyone has a Facebook page. Even businesses are utilizing this as a way to promote themselves. I think it is nothing short of a miracle, although I can certainly understand how it can be used for negative purposes. In my life, it has been a significant blessing. People who are near and dear to me would otherwise be lost to the world of military moves and scattered to the four winds, possibly never to be heard from again. To be able to keep in touch with great friends, keep family updated with pictures of the kids, and to reconnect with people I haven't seen or heard from in years has been such a blessing to me. If this site were to ever disappear, I cannot imagine how heartbreaking that would be to be reduced to trying to scramble for all those email addresses or *gasps* snail mail addresses. Oh yeah, and add iPhone 4 and iPad to this list of amazing technology.

5. Lady GaGa, Justin Beiber, Snooki, et. al. Seriously?

6. The Hashtag (#). What the heck is this all about? Everyone does it. Why? I'm thinking I could live without this.

7. Personal life changes. Geez, where do I even start?!? I thought 2005 was a hallmark year of change for my family and me. I'm starting to think that year was easy compared to 2010. Given, I went through a devasating loss in 2005, but when you just look at pure stressors in life, death of a spouse or child is the top human stressor, and marriage is only six steps down. Amazing! 2010 held for me planning a wedding and getting married, buying a house and moving to a part of the country in which I had never been before, buying a new car and making the 2400 mile trek to said house by myself with the kids, getting pregnant and having a miscarriage (and this story has continued to evolve), trying to adjust to being married, getting a dog, and attempting to figure out who I am at this stage in life. All I know is that, even as much as the good Lord has thrown at me and as much as I prayed that would, in fact, be thrown at me, somehow I've survived with a generally positive outlook. I am completely convinced that I have been borne on wings of prayer by my friends and family, who have never wavered in their love and support for my family and me and without whom my life would be incomplete.

ENOUGH OF 2010! Let's peek ahead at 2011 and what's going on in my world:

1. TDY and deployment. It's a necessary evil in the lives of military personnel and their families. I know we will see our fair share, and all I can say is the sooner we get it started the sooner it is over. It seems like there's a constant revolving door of friends whose spouses are getting ready to go, those who are in the middle of deployment, and those who are cleaning their houses and shaving their legs on their way out the door to welcome someone home. At least this is one aspect of life that never seems to change.

2. Backpacking Through Joshua. I have signed up for an online study written by none other than HisGirl. I pray that I will have the discipline to see this study through. It is a long study but seems to be broken up into quite manageable segments. I'll say this -- there is no foreseeable good reason why I should not be able to make this a priority and learn and grow immensely from it. But isn't this a little like purchasing a gym membership before the new year? They say that it takes a month to form a habit, and I can tell you from experience it can take about 48 hours to destroy a good habit. The only person here who can keep me motivated to uphold my commitment is the Almighty. I know and trust that there are some serious blessings waiting to be had if only I will trust and obey.

3. Simplify. I have this intuition that this is going to be a do-or-die situation for me. I am tired of living life feeling like I'm running late, doing things just barely in time, only "making ends meet". The house we live in is large (for me), but not so large that I feel like it's worth the money to have someone come in to clean on a regular basis. I know I wrote as recently as last November about wanting to be like Abigail or the Proverbs 31 woman, and I know that's a tall order for any woman. All I want is for my countertops to be uncluttered, the bills to be paid and the laundry done, the bathrooms to be clean, the floors to be clean, and meals to be homecooked, nutritious, and easy to make and clean up. I want our closets to be full but not bursting, our pantry to be well-stocked but not have so much junk that it's falling off the shelves, and there to be systems of organization that are easy for every member of the family to be responsible to keep up with and not just me coming behind them all after they depart for the day's battles. What good is organization if it's not easy enough to do on a daily basis? As we hope to grow our family from a family of four to five or maybe even six, we've got to do more with less. Less stuff, less time, less money. Maybe I should add the word "efficiency" to "simplify".

4. Time to look inward. This is really an extension of numbers two and three. I want to be involved less out of the home and more in the home. I will be involved in the online Bible study, as well as my usual PWOC study commitment. I love to read but never have time to finish anything. I've decided that changes.effective.immediately. There is a book club I plan on joining this month, and I'm reading, "The Disappearing Spoon And Other True Tales of Madness, Love, and the History of the World From the Periodic Table of the Elements," by Sam Kean. Looks crazy cool. I will still be involved in PWOC and volunteer at the kids' school, but other than that I want to have a cozy place to sit down with a book, a guitar, or a computer keyboard. Or better yet get out when the weather begins to change and get my garden up and running. Either way, I desperately need the pace to be slower this year.

5. Something big is brewing... I think I'm going to leave this as a teaser, but I can guarantee you that, when it makes its appearance, it will be BIG. At least, the first two were... Hmmmm...

I leave you now with the verse for 1 JAN on my eternal calendar, a great reminder to start each and every year with. Many blessings to you and yours for 2011!

" 'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the LORD, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.' " -- Jeremiah 29:11

Five Years

2010-11-30T07:55:00.005-06:00

Dearest T.,

Five years ago we had a change of plans in our lives, didn't we? Saying goodbye in a Shreveport hospital room was not something either of us had remotely thought about or planned for -- you were supposed to be going to Afghanistan, we were planning what to get the kids for Christmas, and I was concerned you might deploy before Bud's first birthday. We had barely finished the Thanksgiving leftovers; in fact, they might have still been in the refrigerator when the kids and I packed up to follow the helicopter that would take you to better medical care north of our home at Fort Polk. I always thought that, if you knew that you died in Louisiana, you would've been mad that I hadn't insisted that you be flown to a hospital just over the state line into Texas -- not really angry, but you really didn't like Louisiana. I guess none of us have any control over when these moments in life occur, do we?

Five years ago I was bracing for Afghanistan, our first deployment not just as a couple but as a family with small children who were going to miss Daddy. I was wondering how we were going to remember to work you into our daily routines in absentia, how to keep in touch with you so that the distance would be easier for all of us, how to make the house feel like you had only just walked out the door instead of realizing you had been gone for months and months. I was bracing, like all military spouses, for the possibility that the last time I saw you could be the last time I saw you. I attended the briefings about Casualty Assistance, knew who to call for emergencies, and things like that. I was trying to prepare our home and my heart for the worst but hope and pray for the best.

Five years ago I was a frazzled, tired mother of two toddlers. You were all that as well as the first commander of a brand new company in a fledgling battalion. I have to chuckle when I think about all the characters in our company and all the drama you and First Sargeant had to deal with, especially the infamous Tylenol Kid. From FRGs to the dreaded Christmas wrapping volunteering at the PX (remember, that was our last phone conversation?), from two times the dirty diapers to being sick of eating spaghetti, our lives were busy. Happy, but busy.

Five years ago Li'l G was two and a half -- definitely a Daddy's girl who had you wrapped around her chubby little finger. Bud was only nine months old but a very active little guy who you predicted would be walking by Christmas. Did you ever get to see him walk? Turns out you were right -- he took his first steps two weeks after you died.

Five years ago you lost the fight for your life, but not the way you might've thought, off on a dusty, cold, windswept mountain plain in Southwest Asia. I think I felt you slip away. Maybe you were trying to tell me goodbye, but I can't be sure. But something woke me at 6:40 that morning, and time stood still. Only when we got to the hospital hours later did they tell me what happened during the 7 AM shift change. Was that you? I cannot help but think that it was, and I am so thankful for that experience. It has been such a precious memory these last five years.

Five years ago I watched the doctors perform the last tests to see if you were still alive. I watched as they moved quickly from one to the other, each time with no response from your body. The last thing they did was turn off the breathing machine. I watched quietly, but inside my head I was screaming at you as loud as I could: "JUST BREATHE! ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS BREATHE! IN AND OUT! JUST BREATHE!" It was then that I realized that was the one thing you could not do. I was not used to seeing you fail at something. You would make up your mind you were going to do something, and almost every time you were successful. Remember how you had just started training for a marathon? Why couldn't your strong, young body do this one thing? I remember looking at you and thinking this wasn't real and not really happening, but then again, it was happening.

Five years ago your brother and sister lost their hero. Your mother and father's hearts shattered into a million pieces. My family lost another son and brother. Your buddies lost a fellow Rough Rider. Your soldiers lost their commander. Your children lost their father. I lost the love of my life.

Five years ago you arrived, in a robe washed white with the blood of the Lamb, at the foot of the throne of grace. The pain and struggles you endured in this life scattered like leaves in the fall caught in a whirling wind as you took your first steps on heavenly feet. I know Grandpa was waiting for you with a huge smile on his face. Have you felt warm rushes wash over you like gentle waves at the beach? That has been the love I send your way each time I think of you and miss you.

Five years ago it felt as if my life had ended, too. What were we going to do? We needed you. We had nothing without you. Lost. In a word that is how I felt. As I lay prostrate on the bathroom floor and begged God to take this cup from me, not as I willed but as God willed, I, too, felt scattered to the wind, out of control, flung out a window and falling like a rock. That's where I was five years ago.

Five years has gone by, and I hope and pray that God has allowed you to see some of the steps we've made forward from that point in time. There are still some days where I can't believe you were here and now are gone, still so surreal. Then there are days when I feel as though we are face to face once again in a twinkle in Bud's mischievous grin or in the lifted eyebrow of Li'l G. I look at the shape of her hands, the toes and arches of his feet and realize you are there in the very DNA of our children. They both love your mom's pumpkin bread, too, and Bud has always loved hot salsa just like you. And Bud has most definitely got your sense of humor -- he is the jokester of the family.

Five years has gone by, and I hope and pray that it didn't break your heart to see me move on. It has been no easy task. It has been incredibly painful to love you and him at the same time, differently but similarly. I want him to know that I am his wife now, but I will always love you, too. I want you to know that you have not been replaced in my heart or my life. I have been so very blessed to have you both in my life. I hope you approve of how we are raising the children. He loves these kids and does a great job of being a father.

Five years ago I'd have never thought I would be writing you this letter. The pain of losing you will always be a part of me but is somehow evolving over the years. I hope and pray that you won't forget me, the kids, your friends and family who carry precious memories of you close to their hearts. We have not forgotten you.

Love Always,

Kim

P.S. -- Remember our song? Still a good one, Schmupps. :)

Ho! Ho! NO!!!: Why I Won't Skip Past Thanksgiving and Start The Christmas Season Early

2010-11-15T11:13:00.005-06:00

I don't know what got into me, but for some reason I felt led to post this status recently on my FaceBook account: "I boycott [the] Christmas-before-Thanksgiving movement." The first response posted to that was, "Where is the dislike button?" I knew there would be more of those type responses than not. I wasn't trying to provoke people or judge those who put up trees a month or two early or listen to Christmas music the day after Halloween. I can even hear the argument coming that we should be focusing on Christ's birth, so what, then, is the harm in extending the Christmas season a little longer than just the month of December?

Many of you who know me personally or through this blog know that I lost my first husband just days after Thanksgiving. This year will mark five years that he has been gone. We were married for five years and four months. I've been without him almost as long as I was married to him, which seems so odd to me, but that is a whole other blog. It has taken a while for the joy of Thanksgiving to seep back into my heart, but I think it's definitely getting there. Last year my new husband proposed the night before Thanksgiving. He said that he knew that this time of year was not easy for me, but also felt that this was the right time to propose and begin happy memories together. As hard as this time of year always feels, he was exactly right -- we have started to reclaim this time of year as a time of love, happiness, and togetherness as it always had been in my life.

Why, if this holiday and this time of year has so much anguish and bittersweet associated with it, do I want to anticipate it so singularly? Why would I put myself through the torture of facing this hailstorm of emotions, simultaneously sweet and sorrowful, each and every year? Why not focus on the coming King, the Christ child? Why not put others' needs and delights in my crosshairs to keep me in the Christmas spirit?

I believe that to grieve the dead is a holy honor, a duty, a labor of our love. And I cannot only think of T. here. I think of the roll call of people I love -- not loved -- who no longer share this meal with me each year. I think of T.'s easy laughter when I would be flustered about some kind of drama with the family or preparations of the day. I think of seeing the ivory-colored Ford truck pulling up to our house hours before the meal was to be served, before my mom had brushed her teeth or bathed for the day, and my grandparents getting out and coming in to a house that smelled of roasted turkey. I remember the straw hat and blue coveralls my grandfather would wear, how loud the television would be so he could hear it. I can remember my grandmother walking in with more than one dish of her dressing, the crowning glory of our feast. Remembering this day, these people takes me back to a time when life was simpler, straightforward, and I felt safe and loved. Why, for the love of all things sacred, would I be in a hurry to gloss past this? When I think about the blessing that these people were to me then and how they continue to be now, I cannot imagine giving this holiday second billing.

Thanksgiving is also a time for humility. Am I the only person these days who can still comprehend the first five or six letters in the name of this holiday?!? How could I not want to stop to take the time and bless my family with a meal prepared in love, thanks, and humility when they are such precious gifts to me from God? How could I possibly want to fast-forward past one more opportunity to tell my God thank you for not forgetting me, for lifting my head when I was too weak to lift it off my heavy chest, for blessing me with love and life, for ministering to me through children, parents, and friends?

If I could rewrite the calendars, I would more than likely emphasize things like Advent and Lent -- seasons of reflection and preparation -- over their culminating holidays. Christmas and Easter should be something we celebrate and partake of every single day of our lives as Christians. I can buy someone a gift any time; I don't need Toys R Us or Barnes and Nobles to remind me to remember others. I won't get into a sermon about how materialistic our society is. I think we all have a good grip on the world in which we live, and how we, too, regardless of how much we like to rail against it, are just as guilty of falling into this trap to various degrees, myself included. I just wish that we would be in less of a hurry to "get past" Thanksgiving some days. Thanksgiving isn't just a holiday or a meal. It is an orientation of the heart.

Down Home Goodness

2010-11-03T21:19:00.008-05:00

Yeah, yeah, I know. It's been ages since I've blogged. What's new?!? I'm still trying to get pregnant, recently ran in the Army Ten Miler, and found out I have osteoarthritis. So now I take prenatal vitamins and Osteo-Bi-Flex. Ah, the ironies of being 34. I know I owe everyone a poignant look back on 33 since I have just recently celebrated a birthday, and so many things have happened or changed in the last 365+ days, but that simply must wait for another day.

I have found another awesome cookbook!

I love this one already even thought I've only prepared one meal out of it. Here's the scenario of my life these days: Get rolling in the morning -- kids up, dressed, fed. Dog up, pottied, fed, pottied again, walked if possible. Make coffee, pack lunches, write notes. Get self dressed -- either brush teeth or hair, not time for both. Get kids to bus stop. Walk dog. Prepare self for day. BTW -- by this time it's 0900. Depending on the day of the week, I might be volunteering at the kids' school, rehearsing with my praise team friend for PWOC, attending PWOC, or taking the dog to obedience. 1530 marks the afternoon trek to the bus stop. Then get kids home, potty dog again, feed kids snack, work on homework. Feed and potty dog (again). Then comes "extracurriculars" -- violin and tae kwon do. Somewhere in there we have to squeeze in 20 minutes of reading for the kids, home cooked meal where we are all seated around the dinner table for some face time, then it's off to take showers and hit the hay. I am just now, two months into the schoolyear, able to feel as though we have a regular routine, but I hate it when we eat late on school nights, and we eat out enough on weekends as it is. We do not do fast food, so it's either me cooking meals or us going to a restaurant for dinner. While I really love to eat out, it's significantly more practical and economical to cook at home, plus I really enjoy cooking and feel as though I have served my family properly when I put a home cooked meal on the table. WHY, then, is it so blessed hard to cough up yummy, amazing meals in a timely fashion on a schoolnight?!? Enter the need for crock pot magic.

I don't always like what comes out of crockpot cooking. It can be singed and have that icky-wet-burnt taste all too often. I have a couple of slow cooker cookbooks, but I only have a handful of recipes in there that I like, much less have ever cooked. But this cook book has so many sticky notes in it already of stuff I want to try that I should've just dogeared the pages I didn't want to try -- looks.that.good.

There are two more cool things about this book:

1) Stephanie O'Dea has a blog as well. Go check it out here!
2) Due to someone in their family having this dietary need, all of her recipes are or can be made gluten free. She also has great vegetarian dishes in there that I, a strict carnivore, would be honored to eat.

So tonight we made the pizza soup -- delish! It was a great way to clean out the fridge and make something cozy and warm on a cold fall afternoon that we could eat prior to extracurricular activities and still stand a chance of getting to bed on time. Basically think of your favorite pizza toppings in a soup that is tomato-based. I served it with shredded mozzarella and crusty bread. Not only did we wolf it down, I was also able to freeze leftovers. SCORE! Or, as His Girl says, POW!

Lastly, the whole reason why I have opted to try this out is my earnest attempt at striving to be more like a Proverbs 31 woman, serving my husband honorably, raising my children to be Godly and healthy, keeping my home prepared and hospitable. So many days it can be a daunting, if not overwhelming task. I want so badly to "get it right" and pray every day that God will help me to spend my time wisely and efficiently. I think often of one of my heroines from the Old Testament, Abigail, wife of Laban. When Abigail saw David and his men approaching to collect their payment from her husband, she told her helpers to bring out food and prepared lambs to welcome these unexpected guests, trying to intercept a potentially problematic situation. David acknowledged her wisdom (and eventually married her). Also, Abigail's husband and my husband have nothing in common, praise God, but what I love about Abigail is that she is an example of a woman who prepared her household for anything to come up. When things arose, she was ready to spring into action and have the appropriate response. She managed her time and her household well. Lord, help me to be more like Abigail!

I know I can't be perfect, but I know that, with God's help, I can strive to be better than I was yesterday. There is always room for improvement, and it is the joy of my life to serve and nurture my family. I hope this cookbook can be a blessing for my family and other families as well!

"10 [b]A wife of noble character who can find? She is worth far more than rubies. 11 Her husband has full confidence in her and lacks nothing of value. 12 She brings him good, not harm, all the days of her life. 13 She selects wool and flax and works with eager hands. 14 She is like the merchant ships, bringing her food from afar. 15 She gets up while it is still night; she provides food for her family and portions for her female servants. 16 She considers a field and buys it;
out of her earnings she plants a vineyard. 17 She sets about her work vigorously; her arms are strong for her tasks. 18 She sees that her trading is profitable, and her lamp does not go out at night. 19 In her hand she holds the distaff and grasps the spindle with her fingers. 20 She opens her arms to the poor and extends her hands to the needy. 21 When it snows, she has no fear for her household; for all of them are clothed in scarlet. 22 She makes coverings for her bed; she is clothed in fine linen and purple. 23 Her husband is respected at the city gate, where he takes his seat among the elders of the land. 24 She makes linen garments and sells them, and supplies the merchants with sashes. 25 She is clothed with strength and dignity; she can laugh at the days to come. 26 She speaks with wisdom, and faithful instruction is on her tongue. 27 She watches over the affairs of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness. 28 Her children arise and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her: 29 “Many women do noble things, but you surpass them all.” 30 Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised. 31 Honor her for all that her hands have done, and let her works bring her praise at the city gate." -- Proverbs 31:10(b)-31 (NIV)

A Dream Deferred

2010-09-13T08:31:00.003-05:00

In the immortal words of Langston Hughes...

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

When the answers to our prayers are "no" or "not yet", what happens to those questions in our hearts? Or our faith in God? Do they wither like the overripe fruit on the vine? Do our hearts become rotten or infected? Maybe they become leaden and take us to the depths of despair. Or do they fill with anguish to the point of bursting?

I came to realize last week that our dream of having another baby has been deferred. R. and I discussed baby names over lunch before we went to our first OB appointment. Today we were going to hear Baby K's heartbeat for the first time, and I for one could hardly stand the suspense. I was ready to pull down my pants in the waiting room and grab the gel and doppler and find the heartbeat myself. In my mind, things aren't official and fine until that first sound of a strong heartbeat, so needless to say I was anxious.

The midwife searched for a while, and after no success, got us an appointment to have an ultrasound because she knew I would worry until I heard the heartbeat. Once we got settled into the ultrasound room, the tech worked for 45 straight minutes, pressing so hard into my flesh that I thought she was going to break the skin. I'm fairly certain I didn't breathe that entire time. She excused me to the bathroom at one point so we could try something different. As I walked in there and shut the door, the knot in my throat was neary choking me. I prayed that God would be with me again like the time in Shreveport when T. died. I could tell this day was not going to end well.

In the end, I was almost 10 weeks along, but the baby measured 7 weeks and did not have a heartbeat. My worst nightmare had come true. This little one had left us as quietly as he or she had come. No idea about the gender of the baby. No idea whose eyes or nose it had. So many questions and no answers.

The following day I had to have a D&C. I was emotionally wrenched, physically exhausted, and completely scared about the procedure. I was so blessed to have wonderful doctors and nurses attending to me, and an OB who was kind and gentle with his words and presence. Physically I have felt very good, as good as can be expected after it's all said and done.

But emotionally this is still such a punch to the gut. R. was holding my hand in the pre-op area, being both my strength and my comfort through his own anguish. I've never seen a man with such a tender heart and positive, firm resolve at the same time. I absolutely could not have endured this without him emotionally and physically by my side. We both agreed that it is so amazing how much you can love someone that you've never met. And the fact that he's ready to try again as soon as the doctor gives us the obstetric "green light" blesses me so much. I am so thankful that God placed this wonderful man in my life, and I feel that we are even closer now as we go through this experience together. Being a pessimist by nature, I believe that God is using R. to encourage me to have hope and to not let this deferred dream ache longer than it should, or to allow it to spiral my heart down to miry depths.

Another person witnessing hope to me is my son, Bud. Li'l G took the news harder than he did, but Bud is the minister of prayer in our home, taking charge of blessing our meals ever since he was just a little pipsqueak. Now, at every meal after asking the blessing, he asks God to take care of our baby and to send us another one. *sniff, sniff* Didn't Jesus ask us to have childlike faith? If my five year-old can trust in God to handle this situation and bless our family according to God's will, certainly so can I.

My heart still yearns to have the little one we lost, but it is even more hopeful of happiness to come. In the meantime I will focus on the family that I have been blessed with thus far and taking care of my body so that, in God's time, I will be as prepared as possible for another pregnancy. A heartfelt thank you to all of those who have lifted us in love and prayer and blessed us with kind words and friendship.

"The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul..." Psalm 23:1-3 (KJV)

Where Has The Time Gone?

2010-08-31T07:58:00.008-05:00

Today is the second day of the new school year. We are still running on the adrenaline rush brought on by the intoxicating smell of new sneakers, crayons, and freshly sharpened pencils. After the near-fiasco of our bus forgetting our stop and having to come back for the children yesterday, routines are beginning to establish in the minds of students, parents, and teachers alike. Bud is entering Kindergarten this year and had a half day yesterday, but he is full-time as of today. Li'l G is a sophisticated second grader now, having breezed through two years of school already. Faster than we could get our cameras out of our pockets this morning, when the big, yellow bus heaved to a stop in front of us, the kids whooped, hollered, cheered, and peeled out to run and claim the best seat on the bus, leaving a crowd of parents waving and cheering them on. Today was Bud's first day on the bus. This is the child that has always been apprehensive and teary-eyed for the first week of school every year so far, but this time, he didn't even look back. No hint of hesitation, no smooch good-bye. Nothin' but dust coming up from the trail he blazed onto the bus, like the roadrunner getting away from Wile E. Coyote. Who are these children, and what have they done with Bud and Li'l G?!?!?

These are the children I remember...

NOT these!...

(Sorry about the sleepy pregnant lady in the third picture. She's not "showing", she's just preparing her fat reserves for breast feeding... yeah... )

As I came back in the house from my jog with R. after the kids left for school, I sat down to blog about this bewildering experience I had just had, incredulous that we have finally reached such a milestone in our lives. What will actually go on on that bus? Will my children make friends? Will they be the type of friend a friend would like to have? We've been doing devotions together each night and been talking a lot about prayer and how God is always with us and will always be there to listen to us. Will they remember these things when they are fearful or anxious? Will Bud remember our devotion last night about honesty? (a very timely lesson for him) As all these things are piling up on my mental scratch pad as I perch in front of the computer, I begin to peruse the digital files for the right pictures to translate from my heart to the readers this mother's experience. Then, of course, I would happen across pictures like this:

Indeed, I ask, "Where has the time gone?" It seems like only yesterday I had two children in diapers whose only joy in life was to snuggle with their parents and watch "Blues Clues". Now I have these much taller, diaperless people who ride bikes without training wheels, tie their own shoes, and have opinions about pretty much anything and everything. These precious years, trying and tragic though they have been at times, have been no less beautiful and sacred to me. I only wish I had savored them more.

With the previously-mentioned upcoming addition to the family due to arrive next spring, I am even more keenly aware that we must not take these experiences for granted or be in a hurry to push on to the next stage in life. Just as quickly as these babies were born and learned to walk, they will grow up and leave the safety of home and want to embark on their own adventures even further away from my arms' reach. And just as we have been learning in our devotions, thankfully there is nowhere where my family can go where God -- and my love -- is not constantly present with them.

"Train a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not turn from it." -- Proverbs 22:5

The Changing of the Seasons

2010-08-21T09:01:00.005-05:00

Ever feel like you've sailing along in life and then, all of a sudden, notice that you had a massive shifting of the very ground under your feet? Almost like the kind of earthquake that can completely alter the path of a mighty river or change the polarity of the earth. I knew that this summer would bring about such changes for myself and my family, but I had no way of truly knowing just how different things would be -- and just how different I would be -- by the time the summer began to wind down and we could finally see the start of school and fall on the horizon.

Let me give you a head-spinning timeline so you can see what I've been up to instead of blogging: got married, bought a house, packed up my children and all of our belongings, drove the 2400 miles to our new home, visited R. a couple of times in yet another state while he was working there, settled two separate households-worth of belongings into our new home, got pregnant (!!!), have kids settled into extracurricular activities, been "church shopping", and now R. is home for good. In five months time I went from being a widow and single parent to being an Army wife (again), with kids who seem to have grown up overnight and trying to figure out what being pregnant in my mid-30s is going to be like.

Don't think for a minute I haven't been blogging in my heart this whole time. I have some incredibly precious memories from this summer. My family all gathered for a goodbye meal just before we struck out on our transcontinental drive. Despite how extended family can make you happy and crazy at the same time, I realized as I looked at each smiling face what an important part these people have played in making me who I am, how they have supported my family through thick and thin, how they have grieved alongside me through the really hard stuff. To top it off, my grandmother, recently diagnosed with Alzheimer's, who has struggled with significant health issues over the last year, spoke those blessed words from Numbers 6:24-26 to me as we were preparing to depart. It has been particularly hard to leave her because I know that it could be the last time I lay eyes on her this side of eternity. While I understand that as an adult, the child in me sees my grandmother and doesn't want to let her go. I know as a Christian that this world is not our true home, and if anyone longs for her true home it is most definitely my grandmother, but thinking about my world without her voice, her smile, her laughter in it just shatters me. (As I write this she is actually doing just fine, praise God!)

Leaving my church was no cakewalk, either. I was blessed with the opportunity to serve in so many unique ways with this body of believers. There were so many times when I felt out of place or exasperated with some of the painful things going on there. But through it all, as much as I considered tapping out sometimes, it was God working through some of the people there that sustained me in ways I am only just now realizing and appreciating. Similarly, the friends we visited along our journey are some of the most precious ones I've ever made, and while I have always appreciated how they have gone out of their way to love me through thick and thin, I think I love most how they are so steadfast, unchanging in their friendship and support across the years and the miles. They are all truly Godly women that I adore and admire so much.

I think I have most enjoyed spending time with my children this summer. They are at an age now that they are fun to hang out with AND they still want to be around us! From the long road trip and all of the cool sideshows along the way, to learning how to ride bikes without training wheels and swimming, I have noticed that we've moved to a new season in childhood for them, too. With Bud starting Kindgergarten this year and Li'l G in second grade, they will both be off on the bus each day, off on their own adventures. It makes me miss them being little and needing me more. Their need of me doesn't go away, of course, but it changes as they grow and mature. I think I would rather take the needs of diapers and naps over boy-crazy friends and playground politics, thank you very much, but I digress...

As I was unpacking and putting R.'s things away, my thoughts drifted back to a day that seemed as though it had taken place in another life. I was remembering the day I left the housing quarters I had shared with my late husband and deciding what to do with his socks as I was supposed to be finding room for all of my new husband's clothes in the home we now share. Words escape me to properly describe the feelings flooding through my heart and mind as I thought about what I was doing, what it meant, the path my life had been on to get me from Point A to Point B. There are some days where I literally feel as though I could be living someone else's life, or am dreaming. Don't get me wrong -- we have a very human marriage, very human children, etc., but for me to hear this man introduce me as his wife, to hear the children scream, "Daddy!" at the top of their lungs when he walks in the door, nearly sucks the air out of my lungs each time I hear it. To really contemplate how God has blessed my family and me leaves me breathless.

As amazing as all this is, I can't help but feeling kinda lost somedays. Isn't that weird? I think it is. I know that some of it has to do with the dangerous levels of hormones coursing through my veins these days. "Who am I?" is a question I consider many days. I knew who I was back when I was T.'s widow. But now I add to that identity R.'s wife. My status as a mom has not changed (regardless of what TRICARE says, but that's a whole other story), but now we're having another baby. How will this pregnancy go? What will the family dynamic be like once #3 gets here? Will this baby be healthy? Will I miscarry? I've never been pregnant in my 30s, and things feel a little different this time around, but not too bad. How will my energy hold out for Li'l G and Bud as I progress? Where, oh WHERE will we go to church? Where is the right group with which we will worship? Will PWOC work out this year? Will I ever get to be on a praise band again?...ad nauseum...

Overall I'm not terribly worried about all these questions. I trust that God will answer them in time. Or not, which is in itself an answer. I don't like uncertainty in my life; then again, who does? So many things have changed in our lives in such a short amount of time. Everything I had figured out about who I was and the world around me has been flip-turned upside-down, and once again I find myself untangling the proverbial knot of coat hangers that have been jumbled together after the move. I do know that God created me to exist in community with others, so I am most anxious to find a church home and make new friends. Other than that, I just want to sit back and savor this changing of seasons, in my family, in my heart, in my home, and take it all in.

"There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain, a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away, a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak, a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace." -- Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

Standing On Hope

2010-08-11T10:03:00.005-05:00

Just wanted to announce that I am, yet again, transforming. My middle name (not really "guitar") means "reborn," and I seem to be in a constant state of rebirth and transformation. However! This change is just my blog. I know I haven't posted anything in a while, which will be explained on the new site. After getting married this spring, buying and house and moving, and finding out that we're having a baby (!!!), I began to feel something was just "off" over here at "One More Thing." Don't get me wrong -- that headline applies now more than ever -- but I've changed, evolved a lot in a short amount of time, and this glass slipper just doesn't fit right anymore.

So change your bookmarks in a few days to... Standing On Hope. This link will take you to my new site, and Blogger will still redirect you from this one. I'm sure I'll put in countless hours exporting, designing, and blogging soon. (Thank goodness the kids start back to school soon!) So bear with me, but please come along for the next part of the ride.

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." -- Jeremiah 29:11 (NIV)

The Fresh Prince(ss) of Bel Air

2010-04-27T13:15:00.007-05:00

"Now this is a story all about how my life got flip-turned upside down, and I'd like to take a minute -- just sit right there -- I'll tell ya how I became the prince(ss) of a town called Bel Air..."

If you're wondering how much I'm going to overuse/overplay that song over the next four years, let me set your fears at ease: A LOT. Constantly. Consistently. I mean, how many times in a person's life could they ever put themselves (sort of) into a DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince song?!? Pft. Please. You wish.

All joking aside, I have been so thrilled with the house we have chosen and, God willing, will own in about a month after we close. Not only is it gorgeous, the seller seems fair and amicable and motivated to keep her end of the deal. We sifted through a lot, and I mean A LOT, of inventory before we even met with our realtor, who is a really fun person and a great realtor. I wondered at first how well she would understand us and our needs/wants. After having met and worked together she has proven to be very intuitive and assertive, which I love. By the end of our marathon house viewing session last week, R. and I had two houses to chose from that were both outstanding options for our family. I still can't believe how well this has gone so far and pray that I haven't jinxed the process by feeling so confident about it!

One thing I have learned as a newlywed going through this process is that it can stress even the best of relationships, and it really points out how different you can be from your spouse. There were plenty of areas where we didn't agree on the layout of a room or things we would change, etc., but at the end of the day, R. and I were both very much in tune with what each other felt were pros and cons of each property we were seriously considering. I think my favorite memory of this experience was at the end of the day where we were making our final decision on which house to submit an offer. We were pretty mentally spent from really walking through each nook and cranny of both houses and trying to visualize our reality at each property. I flopped down on the side of the tub in the master bath of one house, and he sat next to me. I just stared out the window, too exhausted to move, and asked him what he thought. By the end of his careful run-down of everything we had talked about during the day, he just looked at me and said we should put the offer in on the first house. I looked at him and thoroughly agreed.

It was like a huge weight had been lifted off our brains once we made that decision. And as much as we pored over every possible detail, it was a fairly easy decision to make. We definitely agonized over the decision, but once we made it, it just felt right. I was beaming when we walked down the stairs and out to the car. Of course we would put in an offer on the first home -- I remember when I saw the first pictures of the kitchen I said, "Now this looks like a K. and R. kind of house!" I still loved the second house and knew that we would be happy with it, but it just had too much significant work to be done to the basement to make it the best choice for us, but that's a whole other story. With only a couple of minor changes in paint, the house we chose is move-in ready.

Check out the workstation in my new kitchen! This is where GGG's bloggy magic will happen in the future! All within bright, lovely walking space of my coffee pot! Swoon! What's not to love?!?

What's better is that the house is less than a mile from the school where BOTH kids will attend (thank you, Jesus, for blessing me with having them in one school in the same town for once!). Additionally, we are located in a great place for R. to access work, and there is a neat Lutheran church within three miles of the house. Oh. And a Buffalo Wild Wings within walking distance of the house. WALKING DISTANCE! Heck yeah!

In all honesty, I've been praying over this whole situation about finding a house. I may not be the most consistent, scheduled pray-er in the world, but each time I would sit down to look at stuff I couldn't help but ask the Lord to be preparing the way for our family to find the right home, schools, teachers, church, etc., and to help us with a smooth transition. The house I really felt we would look at, love, and buy wasn't even available by the time we got up there by a matter of mere days. But look at what we got instead! Even better! We aren't moved yet, and we haven't closed yet for that matter, but things feel like they are on the right track, and I'm incredibly thankful.

That being said, life on the post will be a challenge. It's harder to connect with your military community when you don't live there. We found out very quickly that living on post would not be the way to go, and this post is a bit of a ghost town. There are a lot of personnel coming our way over the next couple of years, so I fully expect this to change. (We are getting 12 general officers and their wives, all of whom expect to live on post. HA! I wish I could see the looks on their faces when they get here. Hopefully that will be the most potent catalyst for change.) I am fully prepared to check out the PWOC on post and be a part of that ministry as a way to connect with other wives. However, I'm thinking this could be another one of those ways where I walk into a group that is struggling to stick around and I become a work horse. On one hand, it's a great way to see God at work when groups like this go from fledgling to thriving and growing. On the other hand, it can be physically, emotionally, and spiritually exhausting. I'm coming from a situation with my church that has been stressful in the past but is on the path to strength and renewal, which is relieveing. However, I don't know if I can take four more years of that same level of stress and support my family at the same time. Hey -- it's God's knot to unravel. I'm just along for the ride to figure out where God needs me to plug in, right? Either way, it should be an interesting ride!

'"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future."' -- Jeremiah 29:11 (NIV)

Transformation: Becoming An "SP" Again

2010-04-08T10:24:00.006-05:00

Wow. Here it is, already April, and life is moving so fast once again. Spring brings about recitals, team sports, and class programs if you have school-aged children. It also brings about much hustle and bustle for anyone involved in a church as you move from the reflective season of Lent into the shining glory of the empty tomb on Resurrection Morning. In my family, add to all this a slew of family birthdays and anniversaries. Tired yet? TOO BAD! Because now my life has spun back into action as a new wife. And not just any wife, the wife to an active duty soldier in the Army. One who is making a transcontinental move in, oh, about five days. In what took the ID card lady about 10 minutes to change in her omnipotent computer system, I went from being a "URW" (Unremarried Widow) to being a "SP" (spouse) again in a few keystrokes. What those keystrokes symbolize absolutely blows my mind.

It's crazy to think about where my life was six months ago, a year ago, five years ago, etc. R. and I recently married (see S4J and His Girl for some hysterical footage and on-the-go vlogging), and with the wedding/life planning process there came a lot of opportunity for reflection. I would be remiss if I glossed over all of this, so I need to document it now while it is still fresh in my mind, before my feeble brain is clogged with other details that need more immediate attention.

WEDDING PLANNING

This is, in the minds of some, like childbirth: something amazing to experience, painful while going through it, yet you only remember the good stuff about it, although you pray to the good Lord to never have to do it again and swear to pay off your children so that they elope when the time comes. Also, there is this misconception that there is an "appropriate" amount of time to be engaged or that it takes at least a year to plan an amazing, wonderful event. To quote John Pinette, "I say 'nay-nay'!" We were engaged for just shy of four months. In the first three weeks I was able to secure an amazing florist, our reception site which handled our food and beverages, a wedding cake, buy my dream gown, and order my invites and paper goods. I didn't exactly cut corners, but I also didn't want to break the bank. I did all that in three weeks being a single parent, albeit I don't work outside the home. Folks, it can be done.

I happened upon some really great vendors who are skilled at their craft. As the days dwindled down, both my groom and I were able to enjoy looking forward to our big day without having to put out fires and come up with lots of scatterbrained contingency plans last minute. Overall, I'd say we got what we wanted and the whole event was even better than we could have dreamed.

THE ROAD TO THE CHAPEL

As lovely as all this is, wedding planning for me was not just about procuring the perfect flowers, dress, or menu. Wedding planning was another step in the grief process. It was about really learning what it means to join with this person and become one. That is hard to do when it means completely cleaving yourself from the one you lost and can take time. There is no room for three people in a marriage. It was, for me, one of the most amazing, surreal days of my life.

I know this may sound really confusing to some of you. I will attempt to describe what was going on in my heart over those months, but I just don't know if I can do this justice or not. I promise not to be unduly dark or sarcastic (aww, maaaannn!), just telling it like it was for me and trying to put you in my brain as best I can.

If you are married, picture yourself back on your own wedding day, exuberant and brimming with love for this person you married. Think over some of the best days and worst days of your marriage. Think about the children you have had, or something over which you have both bonded. Think about some of the dreams and goals you have set for your lives together. Take one last look at your spouse now. Remember every minute detail that you can, because this will be the last look you ever get. Touch them, smell them, feel the warmth in their skin before it is gone. That's gonna have to last you a while. Now turn around and walk out the door. Once you leave, you can never go back -- it's a one-way ticket to your new life.

Now imagine you, your children, all of your things, and put them in a different state. Take your friends, your church, the things you see during your daily grind, and erase those from your daily landscape. Put a new, pleasant but unfamiliar environment outside your door. You can have as many pictures and artifacts of your spouse as you want. You can pretend to talk to them on the phone, set a place for them at the table, whatever you want, but you will never see them again. You still feel like a family waiting on someone to come home from a business trip, but that traveller's key will never turn in your door again. Do this day in and day out. Oh yeah, and keep your chin up while you're at it.

Let a few years pass. The feeling finally comes back to your body and your heart, slowly as if you are thawing from a hard freeze. The shock and pain has worn off, and you no longer feel as if you are waiting for missing link. You've developed a new sense of normal. Normal relative to you. You might look at the lives of others and wonder what it was ever like to be a traditional family. Ponder what effect your life events will have on your children as they grow up, fall in love, and decide whether or not they will marry. Scarier still, ponder what effect your own grief has had on your children and how much time and money they will have to spend in therapy! Now that you're pretty much done thawing out, you have a stark realization: you want to step away from the one you lost into the arms of another.

Maybe you will take that step, maybe you won't. For the sake of our narrative, let's say you do. How will you handle telling a love interest about the significantly ginormous, neon flashing sign on your head that says, "WIDOW" or "WIDOWER"? Will he/she ask about it? Will you tell? Will you say something before they have a chance to ask? Will they freak out about it? What about if you cry? Will they freak out about that? Will they accept the situation or not? How will you handle this with your children? Will you listen to advice from married friends? Family? Other single people? Other single parents? Your religion? What is appropriate and what isn't? Left or right? Up or down? Black, white, or nuanced shades of grey? I'm so glad you don't have anything else going in your life so you can devote all your time to figuring out these questions... oh wait a minute...!!!

Now do you guys understand why this blog is called, "One More Thing"?!? :)

Let's fastforward to your wedding day. You have taken innumerable careful steps leading up to this day. You've come a long way from still feeling like a spouse who's waiting on their other half to return to them to a completely separate, independent individual who is strong and evolved enough to know when they are ready to fall in love and bond with someone again. Thinking about a life and a future without your newly betrothed spouse is unimaginable, and you marvel at how lucky you are to have found this love and acceptance in this person. You have wonderful plans of raising children and growing old together when something begins to stir, almost like the beginnings of a sneeze deep inside your head, but this is in your heart. You think, "Wait a minute, this sounds familiar..."

What you've done is transformed: you have felt like this squishy, awkward caterpillar feeling its way around a garden, trying to find some sustenance upon which to survive. You gathered your strength, spun your cocoon, and emerged as a completely new creature -- beautiful, graceful, and free. You don't feel bound by such gravity any more. You are light and basking in the warm sun.

THE BOTTOM LINE(S)

It was one thing to decide I wanted to date again. It was another thing to actually go out and date people, socialize, put yourself in an emotionally vulnerable position. It was one thing to meet an amazing man that put a smile back into my heart. It was another thing to completely give it over to him and trust him not to break it after coming through so much. It was one thing to tell T. goodbye and soldier on these last 4 1/2 years, knowing we would high-five each other again in the presence of the Lord. It was another thing to allow myself to fall in love again and not worry about feeling as though I was betraying T. It was one thing to say "yes" to R. when he proposed and get excited about making wedding plans. It was another thing to look into R.'s sparkling, gentle blue eyes, say my vows to him, slip the ring on his finger, and become his wife. When I walked with my sweet Dad down the aisle, praise Jesus, I did not feel as though I was walking away from T. I felt like I was running full force toward R., and that right next to him was exactly where I belonged. Standing there looking at him, I wasn't aware of anyone else in the room with us -- all I could see was soft light coming in through stained glass windows and flickering on candles, framing his sweet, smiling face. As the kids clambered between us and and we had our nuptial smooch, I felt like I had something new, yet something I sort of had all along: our family.

I started noticing something the day I picked up my gown. Real love is not to be taken for granted. It is a rare and precious thing. I hear R.'s voice on the phone, or I say something to someone about "my husband," and I'm reminded of this. I pray that it's something I never forget. I also hope I never forget where I've been, the hopelessness and lonliness I felt, the awkwardness and feeling disconnected that set in sometimes. I wasn't completely pessimistic about my life, but it's hard to be truly happy in life when things just aren't right. I hope I never forget the kinds of advice not to give. I hope my friends and family will know someday how thankful I am that they didn't give up on me even when I was feeling fairly tormented at the time. I hope I haven't damaged my poor, sweet children, who I know are gifts from God that have given me purpose in life. (Embarassed? Yes, and I'll likely do it again. Damaged, hopefully not!)

NERVOUS NEWLYWED?!?

I'll be honest. This all seems too good to be true. Is that pessimistic or negative of me? Does it communicate a deep-seated distrust of God and therefore underdeveloped spirituality? Maybe, but quite frankly I'm not interested in a psycho-theological explanation here. I remember I was completely stressed out with breastfeeding with my second child because of dire complications I had with my first. Until we got past that point I was a stress bucket. After that it was smooth sailing. My neighbor/friend/consultant also did a great job to reassure me and restore some of my confidence.

I think this is where prayer will prove quite helpful for me. My nerves began to fray a little bit, admittedly, on our honeymoon. We were preparing to fly over to see some friends the following day before we came back home. Some of these friends are some of the most precious people I've had the privilege to know, having come alongside me and ministered to me through music, laughter, and friendship during losing T. After I got off the phone with one of my friends and started remembering all those tough times she loved me through, I nearly had an anxiety attack. What had I done?!? I went off and got married again!!! Stupid, stupid, stupid! Don't you know all this is going to happen again and you're going to be left with a twice-broken heart?

I just stuffed it and put it out of mind. We had a great time the last couple of days, came home, and started back into the daily grind. But the night before R. left to go home, I just couldn't hold it in any longer. I cried almost as hard that night as he just held me as I had the day T. died. I will admit: it almost makes me throw up spontaneously to think about R. dying and being gone. I have come through so much to be at this point in my life. My understanding of life and love is so much more profound than it was ten years ago. At the hotel I had looked at his shaving items there by the sink and heard him talking on the phone in the room and then envisioned it all gone, and I just wanted the earth to swallow me up.

I know I won't always be this panicky about him dying. God has proven to be faithful to God's word time and time again to me. I hate being worried at a time of renewal in my life, when so many great things are starting to happen for us. I hate that grief is like an ugly tattoo that is with you, whether or not anyone else can see it. But I do love him and can't imagine not being his "SP". What is most important to me is that he loves me as I am, crazy and worried and energized all at the same time. I just want to take each moment, with God's help, and cherish it -- with him, with our children, with each new step in life. I could waste away my days in tears of this thing I fear so much, or I could choose to take advantage of the time we have. I will not lose heart; I choose to be of good courage.

"I would have lost heart, unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living. Wait on the LORD; be of good courage, and He shall strengthen your heart. Wait, I say, on the LORD!" -- Psalm 27:13-14

Where Has The Time Gone?!?

2010-02-08T14:10:00.003-06:00

I had all these grand intentions of blogging each step of the way about planning our upcoming wedding (33 days away, in case you're wondering just how "upcoming" it really is). I would reflect meaningfully about the events of my life, how amazing love is, how God has been so faithful to me, etc. REALITY CHECK: life happens! While I have been mentally blogging every step of the way, I have spent almost no time in front of my computer in months. At this point I'm sure I'm going to post this and will hang out in cyberspace fairly unread because the faithful readers I once had have moved on for other bloggy sustenance. So, if you're still out there, I'll drop a few lines about some of the flotsam and jetsam in my mind these days.

THE SUPER BOWL

I was not a fan of either team going into it, but I was glad the underdog team won. Some of the commercials were great; others were just a flop. Am I the only one who noticed the surge of testosterone in these ads?!? Apparently all the "whipped" men of America decided to unite last night. Hope their liberation movement goes well for them. Good grief! And the Tebow/Focus on the Family pro-life commercial was beyond anti-climactic. Personally I don't think the Super Bowl is the best platform for crucial social issues, but you have to agree that it is the one time when you will have a bajillion eyeballs consuming your commercial. I fully expect to see a pro-choice commercial next year. Eh, all in all, it was just another excuse to eat for me.

HAITI

Could this situation be any more heartbreaking? And just when I hear some amazing story emerging from the desolation there, I hear three other stories that sound like things are not headed in the positive direction we'd like to think it is. I have a FaceBook friend who is a fierce advocate for children and adoption, and I have really appreciated some of the information and articles she has found to link to that is shedding more information on this crisis situation in Haiti. The whole missionairies/child trafficking situation sounds like a complete nightmare. I imagine it will be literally impossible to say whether these kids were rounded up legitimately or not. If, indeed, these people are on the up-and-up, then you just wish someone in the legal system would put down their gavel and tell everyone, "No shit, these kids need families who will love and care for them, like, yesterday. Make it so, Number One." Why must matters of survival be left up to the court systems in times like this? Can't we design some kind of expedited process for the important cases to use? And for the love of Pete, I think we need to come up with some kind of international law that is acceptable to every nation so that Americans are not tried under laws of other countries and vice-versa. I know this will never happen, and I hate to know what this would mean for criminals like terrorists, but honestly, there just has to be a better way, folks.

On a different subject, I just read an AP story today about the dire need for psychologists in Haiti. The point someone made that resonated with me was that they didn't need scads of volunteers coming in who didn't speak the language or didn't know anything about the culture. Haitian officials were looking into local Carribbean French-speaking countries for resources. THIS is what we need to see going on! I love the fact that they are not simply relying on the UN or USA to meet every need. And as well-meaning as we Americans are, there are many ways in which our support is best experienced through other resources. We can't solve every problem with a benefit concert and volunteers out the wazoo. The Haitians are going to survive because they are resilient and resourceful. This is a country that gets kicked almost every time it tries to stand up, and yet they don't quit. Makes me feel pretty spoiled rotten and soft.

ANDERSON COOPER

He's gay?!? Man, I would've never known. Not that it matters. I just hate being the last one to know any piece of information.

SCUBA DIVING

So I've been working my buns off the last two weeks or so earning my certification as an open water diver. R. and I are going to honeymoon on an island where there will be ample opportunities to dive, and as he has more certifications and ratings than I can remember, I thought it would be something we could do on the honeymoon. I know this is one of his most favorite recreational activities, and he has not had the chance to do it much over the last five years or so. I began the classes without any prompting from him, but I still think he owes me big time for taking this on! I have had to address almost every mortal fear I have in order to be able to scuba on our honeymoon. We did our first open water dive in a spring-fed lake a short distance from my home last week. It was mind-numbing cold outside, but a crisp 71 degrees in the water. I think I would've enjoyed it more if both the air and water temperatures had been warmer. Overall it was a cool experience. BUT! Upon first entering the water, I nearly soiled myself. See, they had briefed us on what we would see in the designated diving area. I knew what to expect to a certain degree. I knew some things would just look creepy underwater, and I wasn't let down. But I knew it was there -- that's the difference. As I'm swimming out to this platform to demonstrate my snorkel skills, I glance out of the diving area to the open water. Rising up from the floor of the lake like the dang Titanic was a sunken submarine, about 20 feet tall. It was covered with vegetation. OH MY LORD! I nearly had a stroke. I am completely terrified of wrecks and things like that under the water. Reefs, animals, and so on do not bother me. Man-made objects that are not supposed to sink that are lurking under the water with sharp things pointing at me do bother me. I'd say that was the only bad part of the dive.

I have to say, every now and then I have these dreams where I can breathe underwater naturally. This is the closest I will ever get to actually having that dream come true. That part of it is pretty cool. I am a little concerned about going much deeper than about 20 feet, though, and I know R. will want to go as deep as possible. We'll see how it goes.

THE WEDDING DRESS

Oh man. I have the dress to end all dresses. This is a big deal to me and most other women. Men, on the other hand, could usually care less what they wear to a wedding. They want the ceremony to be short, the reception to be a big bash, and to get the goods after the reception, *wink, wink*. I'm sure the guests enjoy the reception more than the wedding. For me, I'm the other way around, but then again, I love planning worship services and music. I digress...

If I may be so bold, I would risk assuming that many women are like me in that a wedding dress immediately pops in their mind when someone tells them that they're getting married. Many of us, myself included, woke up at O-Dark:30 back in the '80s to see Princesses Diana and Fergie marry their royal princes, and we swooned when we saw them in their demure bridal splendor. OK, when we saw demure Diana. Fergie was more like a walking comedy show, but again, I digress. Bottom line, the dress is a big deal.

I actually bought and ordered my dress about two weeks prior to being engaged (long story -- don't ask). My sister and I had about one weekend between Halloween and Christmas to get together, and since she lives several hours away, I wanted to make a point to be able to share some kind of wedding-preparation moment with her. In the end, I found a dress I loved and realized that I would have to rush-order it to get it here in time for a spring wedding. It's a lucky thing everything worked out the way it did. I picked up the dress this weekend and will have bridal pictures with S4J next weekend.

The day I chose the dress was exhilarating. The mother and daughter that own the shop, Bridal Collections by Stella, are these adorable, amazing Brits who immediately make you feel like a family member. Only after my sister and I are celebrating the day over margaritas does it really hit me what I've just done. Realization No. 1: I, a widow of four years, have just bought a wedding dress. I, a woman who wondered if this second chance would come around for me, have found a man who loves and adores not only me but my children. T. himself said he wanted me to remarry if anything should ever happen to him, and as much as I feel guilty or torn sometimes, he mercifully set me free of that burden, unaware of how badly I would need it when the right time came. As I was trying on lovely white dresses that day, all I could see in my mind was R. in his uniform in the church we had already picked out, the flowers in the room, the children standing there by our sides as our friends and family melting into the background as we say our vows, time standing still just for us. It was only after living in that moment did its gravity truly hit me.

When I went for my fitting, my mom, sister, and a dear childhood friend came along with me. It was a fun time for people to gather, reminisce, and get in on wedding stuff. However, last weekend it just worked out that I would run up to the shop to pick up the dress by myself. And it's a good thing I did.

I was breathless.

First of all, this dress leaves NOTHING to the imagination. Form fitting doesn't do it justice. Yet it's so lovely, not slutty or slinky at all. Just very feminine. I was initially breathless because the darn thing fits so snugly. Let's all agree to pray I can still fit into it in 33 days!

Secondly, when I stepped in front of the mirror, I realized: This is my wedding dress. There are many like it, but this one is mine. After the alterations, this dress will fit no one else in the world but me. Like a fingerprint or the inside of a shoe that has been worn several times, it is unique. It turned out better than I could have ever dreamt. Then came Realization No. 2:

Never take love for granted.

As happens once the new wears off any marriage, or after a baby is grown up and walking around your house tearing things up or is in middle school and being completely obnoxious, it's easy to forget the value of that love. It is utterly priceless. Even as Christians, we forget the passion of a newly-washed soul and how Christ's love first affected every ounce of our being.

I remember a picture our photographer took of T. and me just after we walked down the aisle as newlyweds. We were ecstatic and high-fiving each other in the narthex, ready to get to the reception and get on with the next adventure in life. We were young, in love, had our lives ahead of us, and we had just gotten married. And then, in a matter of seconds, that love became a memory, a shadow in my life, something that left my world altered, broken, and floundering. Even as I evolved and grew through this experience and decided to venture into love again, it was every bit exciting and frightening. I had to consciously choose to keep walking forward and to keep my momentum. I know everyone who knows me will think this is so ridiculous -- I've always been the one who is driven once I set my mind to something. Especially when it comes to R., I've known how I felt about him for what seems like ages. But even as much as I love him and he is the one for me, deep wounds are not quick to heal, and to force them to hurry up and heal is like putting on socks over nail polish that only appears to be dry. It's gonna get all jacked up and you're gonna have to start all over to do it right. It's worth taking the time to do it right.

Once back in the dressing room, I took the dress on and felt like a dirty, ragged Cinderella looking at the dress her fairy godmother (Stella) had placed in her arms. Why me? How did this wonderful thing ever come to be? I have certainly done nothing to deserve love like I have found in R. The heavy, smooth satin and delicate organza seemed to be reminding me that the difference between me then and me now is that this time is very intentional, and great care should always be taken to appreciate love when and where you find it. We are lucky to find such a love even once in our lives, much less twice. It simply must be praised over and nurtured and not taken for granted.

RECONNECTION

I know this has gotten long, but I would be remiss if I didn't mention the amazing thing that has been happening throughout the planning process of preparing for our wedding day. I have had numerous occasions to reconnect with friends that I haven't seen in 5-10 years, all in the name of various wedding activities. Sure, it's fun to shop for a dress or have a shower thrown for you, but the time I have spent with these precious people has moved me to tears. I feel as though God is allowing this time to prepare me for whatever step comes next. This is actually quite frightening for me, because the last time amazing things like this were going on was weeks before T. died. At any rate, it has been time well spent, and it has made an otherwise crazy and hectic time so beautiful and sweet. I have made new friends along the way from scuba diving and reconnected with old ones, too. This just couldn't get any better!

I will leave you with the song I have chosen to be played at the wedding during the lighting of our unity candle. It, too, leaves me breathless. It is, "Love Never Fails," by Brandon Heath.

Very Belated Annoucement Haiku

2009-12-19T09:24:00.001-06:00

forgot to mention
he finally popped the question
a "mrs." in march

-- Mobilelly Yours, GGG

Beauty Will Rise

2009-11-05T09:15:00.005-06:00

I have just deleted the blog I had intended to publish today, but strangely enough I think the title needs to stay.

I have been awash in emotion today. I awoke to yet another day of rare, pristine fall weather that I have not experienced in this part of the country in a number of years. I rose from slumber feeling at peace, happy, fulfilled, purposeful. Then I came into my office and sat down to listen to my latest download, Steven Curtis Chapman's, "Beauty Will Rise," which is the griefwork put to music of the Chapman family after the loss of their sweet little five year-old Maria over a year ago. When I heard the words to some of the songs, I immediately felt a pang of identifying with the bittersweet sentiments of intense loss and a holy grief, one that is observed by many people but privately lamented and deeply mourned. And then the panicky, sick feeling as the events at FT Hood unfolded this afternoon. The scrambling for information, contact with loved ones, waiting, uncertainty, and the undeniable stench of death.

I was so struck in many ways by the Steven Curtis Chapman CD that I was moved to devote an entire post to it; as luck would have it, I got busy and had to walk away from the post, saving it for completion at the end of my day hours later. How would I know what events would end up ruling the day and taking priority in my mind?

As of this post, the latest numbers and information is staggering: 13 dead, at least 30 wounded. The shooter's smiling face has been plastered all over news channels, and the assumptions and foregone conclusions are swirling like a Kansas twister across the networks. No matter what finally emerges as fact or fiction, this entire event is beyond sickening in more ways than one.

Being a creature with selfish tendencies, I internalized today's events in such a different way than most. I was immediately rushed back to November 29 and 30, 2005. I felt the numbness again in my arms and legs that I had felt upon hearing about T's motorcycle accident, driving past the wrecker loading up the demolished bike, the ambulance in the bay, the swath of trauma personnel hovering around him in the ER, the thwocking of the medivac rotors as they waited to rush him off to a trauma center in Shreveport, the waiting in uncomfortable waiting rooms for a shred of information, wondering what shape he would be in when I finally got to see him, wondering if he would be in the hospital for a month or if he was going to die. Then I remember hearing my Casualty Assistance Officer's voice on the phone, going through the steps of making final arrangements that seemed so surreal. This is really happening? To me? To him? What?!? But he was getting ready to deploy -- this sort of thing doesn't happen until the guys are deployed. He was only coming home from work, we had just gotten off the phone -- are you sure you got this right? What am I supposed to do now?

How many new widows are there at FT Hood tonight? How many people saw a soldier in a Class A's show up at their door with a commander or a chaplain? How many people now know what a Casualty Assistance Officer is going to help them do over the next couple of weeks? How many parents are finding out that there will be one less table setting at Thanksgiving three weeks from today? How many kids get to celebrate Christmas next month without their parent? How many babies are going to be born into a single parent family?

I don't even have to be up at Scott & White trauma center to feel the tension pulsating from the hearts of these families, waiting on pins and needles to hear news, any news at all about whether their soldier will make it or whether they have been shoved through Door #2 without their permission, a door which locks after you pass the threshold and has no doorknob on the other side. It's a one way ticket to a life you never thought would be yours.

The fact of the matter is this: tomorrow is not promised. Not for me, T., Maria Chapman, or any of the soldiers who died today. Not for you or your loved ones. I've said many times that, as military spouses, we brace ourselves for the possibility that our loved one may not come home to us alive from a deployment. We do not prepare ourselves for something like what happened today, or like what happened to me. And why not? Who knows. Any number of reasons I guess.

I can only hope and pray that these new Gold Star families will draw close to one another and to God as they grieve and struggle in the days, weeks, months, and even years to come. And I hope that we can all give them a wide berth to do so and to unconditionally love them through this process. I hope that they will find the tiny pieces of grace and hope in the ashes of their lives and use them to weave a new tapestry, one that will blend together their past love and the new life toward which they will have to move, just as even I daily move toward my new reality. The title song on Steven Curtis Chapman's new album is about this exact topic -- how beauty can rise from these tragic, astoundingly painful situations. It is a lifeline to cling to when you are sinking, just praying that what you're going through won't swallow you alive. If you can hold onto the idea that God will redeem this pain and use it to God's glory, then just maybe something beautiful can emerge that you would have never thought possible as you were going through it at the time.

I wanted to embed this song from YouTube but it doesn't want to cooperate. To be blessed by this song, I implore you to download the album or listen to it here. Even in the midst of absolute pain and grief, I truly believe that beauty will rise.

+ May the Holy Spirit encamp around the ones who are hurting tonight and give them rest and peace for the difficult days to come. Amen.

33

2009-10-28T10:20:00.005-05:00

As I sit here today on my thirty-third birthday, I've got a lot to ponder, a lot for which to be thankful. I wish I could show you every image racing through my mind of things I've experienced, people I've loved and admired, heartbreak I've endured, and every song my heart has sung, but Apple hasn't released that type of technology yet.

So many people grieve turning thirty, as if the best years of their lives have already passed them by. I feel as though life began for me, in some ways, once I got to my thirties. I may not have the neck-high perky boobs of a college tart, but mine are still hanging in there. They have given life to two children, have comforted broken hearts in an embrace, and even made a couple of trips to Hawai'i. I am healthier and stronger than ever before in my life, and I feel as though I am navigating the proving grounds of physical health that will pay off in future decades. I have learned things about myself, about others, about our world, about God, that I could have never comprehended with any clarity in the days of my "youth".

By the time I turned thirty, I was a widow and mother of two children ages 2 1/2 and 9 months. In my thirties, I have learned that being a single parent really isn't the end of the world. Being tired and frustrated with life isn't an excuse to be a jerk to your kids. If you are going to survive, you adapt. Kind of a modern twist on natural selection, and quite frankly, I'm not ready to raise my white flag. I was able to reflect on the ways in which my marriage could have been much better and what things I was so fortunate to have found in T. I listened to so many of my married friends talk about their spouses, sometimes to their spouses, and discuss marriage in general. Sometimes I would cringe and wonder if I had spoken that way to or about T., which I know I had, and I could only wish that I could tell him how sorry I was, if I only had the chance to apologize face to face. I realized how quickly married couples can overlook what they mean to each other and to their children. It has made me determined that, when R. and I tie the knot, I will remember what I have learned so that I can be a better wife to him.

I've been privileged to meet so many beautiful, wonderful people who have touched my life or inspired me in ways I didn't realize until much later. Some of these people have gone on to be friends, some have wandered off in their own direction, and I don't love one less than another. My friends are truly part of my family, and if God is taking requests the day I get to heaven, I hope God will put us all around a wonderful meal or a campfire in the mountains so I can be with all of the people I love all at once.

Travel has impacted my life in such a meaningful way, too. I told R. recently that, although I don't want to be cremated when I die, if I was cremated, my ashes couldn't just be spread in one place. I would want a little piece of me to be taken to dozens of different places that I have loved. My grandparents' farm, the cemetery where T. and all my family is buried, Mount Rainier, Waimea Bay, the beach where I've gone with my parents, Washington, D.C., the pyramids in Egypt, Rome, Kusadasi, Istanbul, Rhodes, Fort Benning, and so many other places -- I have carried something beautiful from them in my heart that I simply can't describe.

I remember my birthday four years ago: a cold, crisp autumn day in Louisiana on the back of the motorcycle with T. I had specifically asked to ride to a battalion function on the bike because he was going to deploy the following spring and wouldn't be there to take me out on my thirtieth birthday on the bike. Little did I know that almost exactly a month later he would be gone. I remember being behind him on the bike and looking at the sky, thinking that if I died that day, I would have been the happiest person in the world because my life had never been happier than it was on that day. I had a great husband and two beautiful children, my health, friends and family. As I looked up at a blazing sunny sky yesterday, it was cold and crisp and I mused at how I felt the same way then as I had four years ago, and I couldn't help but offer up quiet praise to God. I know my birthday was a good one last year, but I swear they keep getting better and better.

I don't know how to make a slideshows on YouTube, but this song says pretty close to how I feel today. I hope your next birthday brings you the peace which passes all understanding as this one has brought me today.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N7P8pPYSXhk

Haiku for Molly

2009-10-19T18:49:00.001-05:00

learning how to shake
licking sniffing wagging tail
our cinnamon girl

-- Mobilelly Yours, GGG

BDU haiku

2009-10-19T17:07:00.001-05:00

his old uniform
distant yet so familiar
on his little boy

-- Mobilelly Yours, GGG

H1N1 Vaccine: What The Pork?

2009-10-05T14:10:00.006-05:00

I'm having a dilemma these days, one I'm not used to pondering. I'm uneasy about the H1N1 vaccine. Does it strike anyone else as strange how fast a vaccine was developed for this strain of influenza? I have personally known at least four individuals who have contracted H1N1 since Labor Day, three of them children, one of them with some serious complications. This flu has been moving in and out of the ranks of Americans (and no doubt around the world) like a stealth operator on a secret mission in a faraway land. I am starting to think that this vaccine may be too little, too late. However, Li'l G's school is administering this vaccine in mist form next week, and I'm starting to get cold feet about it.

To vaccine or not to vaccine? That is the question...

Let's establish one fact: I support vaccinations. I have made it a priority to keep my children up to date on all of their vaccinations since birth and plan on keeping it that way. All three of us got the flu vaccine just after Labor Day this year, and amazingly, the kids have been in pretty good health, even though I was laid out with a pretty nasty virus about 10 days after the vaccine. However, I believe that there is a good reason to vaccine our babies against polio, TB, MMR, and so on. I have known a man who has spent nearly his entire life, since childhood I believe, in a wheelchair ever since he contracted polio. There is a reason why our infant mortality rates and childhood mortality rates are some of the lowest in the world, folks. Vaccines are not the evils that some people think they are.

That being said, I know we need to be cautious about the ingredients in vaccines. Certain agents, such as thimerosal, have been linked to causing autism in children, and I know a family who believes this is what happened to their child. Vaccines are not perfect, but by-and-large, my personal belief is that they accomplish the goal set forth by the doctors and professionals who set out to develop them.

I just have an uneasy feeling about this, however; it's nagging at me, and I cannot simply ignore it. I talk to my friends who are Vietnam vets and they are only halfway joking as they mock the medics, "Agent Orange is safe. Your government wouldn't make you do something that's going to be harmful." And so on...

Even though I did not vote the current administration into office, I do not believe that Obama and the scientists at NIH and other governmental agencies sit around a bubbling, green beaker in a back-alley lab, stirring this foaming concoction with a rusty spoon like Doctor Jekyll, and when the spoon dissolves they toss back their heads and gargle out, "Yess, finally, the vaccine is complete! Mwaa haa haaaa...!"

So why, then, am I so distrusting of this vaccine? I don't really know. It just seems to have come out so fast. Has it even had a chance to be tested properly? I don't know. On the other hand, if it's possible to crank out this vaccine in such record time, why does it take others years, decades even, to reach the masses of dying, suffering people? Is it due to corruption? Needing to allow the scientific process to run its course? I don't know. I just have so many questions and little time in which to find answers to them.

The other thing I find disconcerting is accessibility. The government is in charge of distribution. My hospital told me last month not to come to them for the vaccine, that they would not be receiving any. The public schools are going to have them for students and teachers. Active duty military will get them. Active duty military dependents will have access to them through their healthcare on post, but what about people like me, military who have been pushed into the private sector? What about the millions of people with no direct link to government? The homeless and/or insuranceless? And these vaccines are being handed out for free?!? Am I the only one smelling a rat here?

I'm sure my hospital has gotten more information in recent days since vaccines will be coming out this week and weeks to come. Either way, it's a sign of the times to be sure. I don't want to risk my children's very lives by not vaccinating them; however, they are not petri dishes on legs, available for governmental research. So help me out here, guys: what do you plan to do?

Gluten-Free Wheat-Free Triple Chipper Cookies

2009-10-04T16:51:00.004-05:00

Disclaimer: Just because I have substituted some ingredients here doesn't necessarily mean this recipe is proven to be absolutely GF. My dietary need is just to get rid of grain-based carbs. I do not suffer from Celiac Disease or have any medical reason to be eating GF. So, take these modifications with a grain of salt and do your research. Otherwise, enjoy!

As many of you know, I have started doing CrossFit over the last several weeks in a ~~feeble~~ bold attempt to get into shape. BTW, I have a separate blog just for my daily reflections on my workouts -- head over to Make It Burn to read about my daily sojourn towards "forging elite fitness".

Sorry for that shameless plug there. Where was I... oh yes... Part of being a CrossFitter is thinking about how we fuel our bodies. The program wants the students eating lots of lean meats, carbs in the form of fresh fruits and veggies, and laying off on whole grains, refined sugars, flours, and starches. So when I heard this, I thought to myself, Good-bye pizza, homemade bread, rolls, muffins, cookies, and so on. However! I did find a loophole!

Gluten-free was my get-out-food-jail-free card. The problem with that list of no-no foods is that they all contain grains. High levels of sugar in our blood cause our bodies to secrete large amounts of insulin to break it down. I don't remember the rest of the biochemistry that goes behind elevated levels of insulin in our blood, but I do know that it causes us to put on weight and carry around unnecessary fat. Mine likes to hang around my joke of a belly button and flop over the top of my jeans, even on a skinny day, and make me feel like I've been driving trucks cross-country. At any rate, things that are gluten-free lack that carb component that puts your body into insulin overload I guess. Obviously I'm not terribly up-to-date on all the scientifics here, and there is a plethora (yes, I said plethora) of information online and elsewhere if you really want to research it.

Let me interject something at this point. I have always been the kind of person that believes in cooking healthy meals or goodies for my family, but if I'm going to sacrifice texture or flavor in the name of being low-fat or healthy or whatever, then you can just forget it. There are some sacrifices I don't make when it comes to my food. I consider food and culinary delights to be one of the most satisfying carnal pleasures this side of heaven, and I'm sure not gonna waste my time down here eating stuff that tastes like cardboard just so that I have one less dimple in my backside. I may look like my rear end has been pummelled with a bag full of nickels, but dangit, I'm going to be eating well and savoring every morsel.

All that being said, I vowed to do some solid kitchen testing on gluten-free stuff so that I could still cook "normal food" for my family and be able to eat it guilt-free with them. Part of being successful at CrossFit is using the proper fuel to help your body restore the energy it's using (and trust me -- you're using a LOT of energy), and if I'm going to invest the time and money to do this, I want to do it as best I can while not turning into one of those people who become annoying to be around because they only eat organic vegetables grown on mountainsides in the Andes or drink water that has run off the leaves of a rainforest fern or some kooky crap like that.

Now to my first experiment: cookies.

Every time I go through the checkout at the local grocery store, I see some charming little periodical that has yummy treats in it for fall. I am such a sucker for fall baking! After perusing its contents, I've marked off at least 15 recipes I want to try. I made the Nectarine-Plum Crostada last week, which tasted a lot like a peach cobbler -- I highly recommend it. However, I was wanting to make the Triple Chippers on p. 6 and wondered if I could do it in a guilt-free, gluten-free way. As I sit here typing this to you, I am eating one of these suckers, and boooyyy is it good! So, in short, the answer is "yes", and I'll tell you how I did it.

Here is the recipe:

1.5 c packed brown sugar
1 c granulated sugar
1 c butter or margarine, softened
1 c shortening
2 t vanilla
2 eggs
3.75 c all-purpose flour*
2 t baking soda
1 t salt
1.5 c white vanilla baking chips
0.5 c butterscotch chips
1 c semi-sweet chocolate chips

*I substituted 3.75 c Pamela's Baking & Pancake Mix for the all-purpose flour. You do not need to add xanthum gum or anything like that to it -- it's already in the mix! Woo hoo!!

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. In large bowl, mix sugars, butter, shortening, vanilla, and eggs with electric mixer on medium speed until creamy, or mix with spoon. Stir in flour, baking soda, and salt. Stir in white, butterscotch, and chocolate chips. Onto grease cookie sheet, drop by 0.25 cupsful about 3" apart. Bake 12-15 minutes or until light golden brown. Cool 4 minutes; remove from cookie sheet to cooling rack. Yield: 26 cookies.

I thought that making cookies that big sounded crazy, so I used a Tbsp to scoop out dough. I have made 24 cookies that way, and they spread out pretty big. I still have enough dough left to make at least 30 more cookies or so using a Tbsp. This would be a great recipe to make big cookies with, spread out into a large cookie to decorate, or make a kajillion of them for some kind of school function where you'll be feeding a lot of people. I plan on putting the rest of my dough in the freezer for safe keeping until holiday baking is in full swing.

The gluten-free flour turned out to be a winner. In fact, the raw dough tasted so good that I ate a LOT of it before the cookies were made, and now I'm starting to feel a little bloated. Ick... This flour has natural almond meal in it, so it has a faintly nutty taste to it that is awesome in cookies. This flour also comes with recipes on it for making pancakes, muffins, crepes, waffles, breading for fried chicken (!!), and regular chocolate chip cookies.

I will most definitely start using this in lieu of regular flour. This is a subsitution that you can make in your baking and non-dieting types of people will probably never know you switched something on them, and if anything, ask what you added to the food to make it taste better. My next experiment will be for dinner tomorrow night when I use gluten-free pasta for spaghetti night. I think I've filled up on cookies and milk (and dough) for dinner tonight!

Trash Can Haiku

2009-09-28T13:19:00.002-05:00

you know you want to
as tempting as it may be
must.resist.the.urge.

-- Mobilelly Yours, GGG

Blevins cemetery haiku

2009-09-26T14:19:00.002-05:00

bittersweet beauty
peaceful farmland gently holds
those who slumber here

-- Mobilelly Yours, GGG

Poptart Haiku

2009-09-19T10:53:00.002-05:00

poptart sprinkles crunch
upon my clean kitchen floor
why do i bother?

-- Mobilelly Yours, GGG

Freaky Fungus

2009-09-11T17:09:00.002-05:00

For those of you who never ate mushrooms before, you really won't want to eat them now. I almost put thus genetic freak-o-nature in my spinach salad today. It's a mushroom with a siamese twin attached at the head, so to speak. Nothing remarkable to say here -- just wondered what the odds are of finding something like this in your salad!

-- Mobilelly Yours, GGG

9/11 Remembered

2009-09-11T07:28:00.004-05:00

Life stood still eight years ago at almost this very precise moment at which I'm typing to you. I remember sitting there in my classroom with a husband who had just left days prior to go to the National Training Center (NTC) in California, thinking about today being his birthday, and then the harsh reality of the news of the day. I was terrified that his unit would deploy immediately to Afghanistan from NTC and not even get to come home first. I wasn't ready to face the fact that I could lose him. And yet, look what so many others had already lost.

For so many of us, 9/11 is simply part of our American history. We have passionate feelings about the events of the day and those that followed. But for so many others, their lives were ripped apart. To try and understand the loss felt by the husbands and wives, children, the unborn, the moms, dads, and siblings, and other lives touched by those we lost that day is futile. The best we can hope to do is grieve alongside them and shed tears "on behalf of a grateful nation."

We didn't just lose people in the twin towers of the World Trade Center. We lost people in the soft, plowed fields of Pennsylvania, where our forefathers likely trod as they fought bitterly for our independence from England. We lost people in the labrynthine Pentagon as well, some of our brilliant military and civilian thinkers who have dedicated their lives and careers to the job of defending our country. We had a huge gash ripped out of the rich, colorful tapestry of America. Rather than trying to repair the gash and pretend it never happened, thankfully we have all gathered 'round it to look at its hallowed, jagged beauty to remind ourselves of each person borne into the arms of God that day. Their lives hold meaning to this day and will not be forgotten.

I cannot hear this song without weeping. Like coming across a precious memento of a loved one lost, "Where Were You When The World Stopped Turning" so poignantly captures the sweet sorrow of those days spent huddled around the television, watching the news crawl across the bottom of the screen for breaking news. It gives me permission to cry with its gentle melody and simple words. At the beginning of the song I feel simply rotten, but by the end there is hope, an important point that we all miss each day. Faith is great, hope is wonderful, but we must love. Unconditionally. And intentionally. As Christians, Jesus commands us to do this. If you are not Christian, showing love to another person is simply treating another human being with the same respect and dignity you expect to be shown. How different our world would be if we humbled ourselves to truly love one another.

Soak in 9/11. Remember. Allow yourself to take that walk back in time. And keep moving forward in love.

I Just Gave Birth...

2009-09-10T19:20:00.002-05:00

...to a new blog!

That's right -- GGG is branching out these days. I have decided to start a separate blog that focuses only on my attempt at being a PT stud. I have recently started CrossFit (again) and am trying to do it the right way. It's only been two days, but the psychological effects alone have been incredibly empowering. Ever since R. inspired me to get back into the gym a year and a half ago, I have tried to make it a priority to take better care of myself and challenge myself. While some days it has been an uphill battle of gargantuan proportions, most days it has been extremely rewarding to watch myself do things I never thought I'd do.

I'd love to motivate others, especially women and busy moms, to step up and do the same -- to step outside the comfort zone and take charge of their health. That would be gravy. (Mmm, gravy...) But really, this is a selfishly motivated blog. I'm really just doing this to be more disciplined about plotting my progress so I can look back and see how far I've come. I really want people to read and interact, but if you chose not to, that's cool, too. But please leave comments/kudos/kvetches/etc. I thrive on feedback.

So, without any further adieu, I give you...

Make It Burn.

Fall, Could That Really Be You?

2009-09-10T14:33:00.001-05:00

While that might not be the most flattering picture, it was the best of many attempts at documenting my woolen protest of summer. Thankfully, when I walked out the door this morning, it was somewhat cool ( think only 77 degrees) and foggy. A "cold front" is due to arrive over the next few days, and we'll be topping out at a chilly 80 degrees by Saturday, so y'all say a prayer for us.

I am so optimisitc that weight have fall this year that I got out my seasonal home décor last night and started the changing of seasons on my own timing. R. asked how one goes about decorating for fall: "What do you do, stick some corn around the house?!?". I was not deterred by his lack of enthusiasm for my favorite season. I put those bright citrus fruits to bed in the closet and pulled out my pumpkins with pride. I, my dear, am ready for fall.

To top it off with warm struedel, I found this awesome new product from my BFFs at Febreeze. They are basically paper air fresheners that stand on a square base that has a flickering light. They come in several great scents, albeit none near as cool as the caramel apple fragrance (complete with spooky spider and web design on the scented paper) and orchard apple (with a happy little jack-o-lantern motif). With the flickering light effect, it's way cool. I let the kids put them in their rooms. Now, the hacienda not only looks fall-ish, it smells like it, too.

My last touch of seasonality will take a little more effort, however. I want to fill up my clear column votive holders with candy corn and monster fingers, topped with either a green or purple candle. Not even the venerable Hobby Lobby had what I needed! Blasphemy!!

Yes, dear readers, fall is indeed on the way to this hot, parched land. Even as I write this in the carpool line, it's actually rainy and 73 degrees -- what a rare treat! Think I'll pop some popcorn this afternoon and cozy up ok the couch for once.

-- Mobilelly Yours, GGG

Labor(ious) Day

2009-09-07T19:21:00.004-05:00

I just don't know what's up my skirt some days. This is usually when Sing4Joy asks me if I'm PMSing and I bite her head off, stomp my feet, gnash my teeth, and holler in my most indignant tone, "I'm not PMSing!?!?!"

I've been sorting through, like, almost a thousand unread blogs from bloglines and sadly gave in to the fact that, even though I bear a striking resemblance to Wonder Woman, I am no superhero and cleared out my bloglines. However, I read something over at Gretchen's place about some of the issues she's been going through, and in my heart I wanted to say, "Yes! I know that feeling so well! Is that what that is?" Her image of teetering on the edge of the precipice of depression, wondering which direction she's headed, strikes a chord in my heart. While I've never been diagnosed with depression, I'm positive that I'm the kind of person that goes through emotional seasons. Once I catch on to the changing of the seasons in my heart, I get a little anxious; I am completely unsettled and relatively agitated until I can get my bearings again. Call it fear of the unknown, avoidance, PMS, or lack of sleep. It's unnerving either way.

I've been on a war path with my kids. Can't really explain why, but I've been so uptight about ridiculosities (Is that a word? If not, then it is now.) I believe reasonable people call this "the small stuff." I have been stern with myself about personal habits that have crept in and taken root in a temple of which I have worked hard to take better care. Things that have been my passion still are extremely important to me, but I can't seem to take the first step to getting them done. To top it all off, I've been really emotional and have even caught myself being short with R.

This time of year naturally turns my mind toward tragedy. Is that a little dramatic of me? Of course -- have you met me?!? T.'s birthday would've been this Friday, and he passed away four years ago this November. These are not necessarily days I dread all year, but as the weather turns from face-of-the-sun hot to mildly-sweaty hot (a.k.a. fall in the south), I believe my subconscious becomes aware of a season of grief, of timelines, of my current circumstances, complex and beautiful as they are.

I often find myself wondering these days: Have I always been this way? Why am I so wound up about certain things? It would be such relief to be able to brush these things off and look at the bigger picture, and many times I am able to do that. Other days it just seems so impossible. Why is it that Li'l G gets on my last nerve to the point that I need to walk out of the room? Why can't Bud listen to me and follow simple directions like "don't eat that mud" or "stop climbing on the handrail of the escalator"? Why can't I see these beautiful babies that God placed in my arms and be kinder and gentler toward them? Why am I constantly so exasperated with others whose opinions are different from mine? Why can't I be more of a team player? and so on...

I have had two friends in the last ten days become widows. One woman was a determined, dedicated caregiver to her ill husband for years who was able to watch his passing with the knowledge that his days were coming to an end. Another woman had her husband snatched from her loving grasp almost as quickly as mine. How distinctly I remember the feeling of, "What just happened here," the feeling of looking at my non-breathing husband and wondering what I was going to do. I was reminded on Sunday of the passage in psalms that God takes care of widows and orphans and puts the smack down on any evildoers that come their way. I know without doubt that is true. That doesn't diminish the circumstances but certainly made me feel like I had someone on my side to take care of me.

I wanted so desperately to pick up the phone and talk to someone. I needed an ear to chew on. I wanted to ask someone, "Is it just me, or is it normal to feel like you don't think you can handle one more day of messes in the bathroom, mowing the lawn, a dirty house, and not having a helpmate to help shoulder the load?!?" Then I realized that almost every phone number on the contacts list of my phone was that of a person who was married. And while many married individuals do, indeed, end up doing more than their fair share of the parenting/cooking/cleaning/etc., and spouses of deployed soldiers get an intense snapshot of that life, it's just not quite the same. And in my mind, R. has little to do with this because he didn't put me in this situation in life, and he's not my ticket out of single parenthood.

I know many of you would love to hear that this is when I put the kids to bed early and curled up with my Bible. It's not a bad idea, but that's not what I did. I've exhausted my concordances with references about widows and comfort and so on. I needed to put children to bed and wind down for the night. Bud ends up talking to me about how he doesn't want to go to heaven because he will miss us and our house. I tell him that he doesn't have to worry about going just yet, but that heaven is a really wonderful place that we'd all like to be at some point. Then his line of questioning goes toward old people and dying, boo-boos that don't get better, and the inevitable "I miss my Daddy" tearjerker. We've had these conversations before, and as the kids get older, they can understand more and thus the conversations become more detailed. And while many people might pooh-pooh tonight's display as tears of exhaustion at bedtime (which some of them truly were), seeing the pain on his face as he put his chunky hand to his face and cried just cracked my concrete heart into powdery bits. Our tears mingled on our wet, sticky cheeks as we just sat there and let it flow.

Bud has to take family pictures to school tomorrow. Joy of joys! What a fun time of explaining our family situation when you're the only four year-old in the room who does not have a dad in the picture. I'm so thankful that the kids are not ashamed of this and explain it quite matter-of-factly to anyone who asks. They also have a clear understanding of how R. fits into the picture and how that is growing and changing. I was proud of him, though. When I asked him which picture of our family he wanted to bring, he said he wanted on with R. I asked if he wanted one of our family with T. or one with just the three of us to take as well. He said he wanted to take one with R. and and one with T. but not one of the three of us. What does that say about how he sees our family? I'm not entirely sure, but I feel good about how he feels about how our family will hopefully look in the future.

Maybe I just needed that good cry. Maybe I've got a hormonal thing going on (extremely likely -- apologies to my male readers). I don't think I have a season of sadness up ahead. I definitely feel the inclination to slow down these days and heed the call of the Spirit to look upward and inward. I am the sort of person who must be intentional about not moving and going constantly; it goes against every fiber of my being, but I know that I must do it. I want to enjoy my children at this fleeting time in their lives. I want to savor the fading of the heat and humidity from the air. I want to relish in the sound of a deep, familiar voice on the other end of the line that makes my heart smile even when the rest of my day has stressed me out and brought me down. There are too many lovely, precious blessings in my life and in the world to appreciate to allow something else to tug at my heart and throw me for a loop. Where ever this post finds you in your day, I hope it finds you feeling positive and hopeful. If not, go ahead and get the funk out of your system. There are better days ahead -- I'm sure of it.

Sweet Southern Comfort Part 2: Waffle House

2009-08-29T09:39:00.000-05:00

What is this mysterious plateful of... stuff? Let me introduce you to the glory of the Waffle House chili cheese omlette, rivaled in satisfaction only by its close relation, the ginormous hashbrown that one can order in various states of culinary splendor. In this restaurant the size of a shoebox, you can order any kind of food you want 24/7. And even though you might die of a heart attack or explosive diahrrea on the way home due to the thousands of grams of animal fat you just consumed, you will die happy from the great service and hot coffee you just had only moments before.

We had the late night munchies after a day of airports, fellow passengers who reeked of stale smoke, and hugs and laughs for hours with long-lost comrades. We needed more than sustenance. We needed good cookin', the kind that calls for a stick of butter per serving or life-threatening quantities of gravy. There in front of us, like an oasis in the desert, was the Waffle House.

So much for Weight Watchers, sensible portion sizes, and spinach salads. I'm here in Hotlanta! Gimme some Waffle House! I've got pepto and the gym at home.

-- Mobilelly Yours, GGG

Sweet Southern Comfort Part I

2009-08-28T11:33:00.001-05:00

I haven't even boarded the plane, and already my fellow passengers think I'm nuts. One man, sitting at a forty-five degree angle on a waiting area bench with his legs sprawled out all over the aisle, commented loudly to his giggly lady friend, "Now who wants to take a picture of the door in the airport?". Satisfied with his brief foray into stand-up comedy, he unwittingly proceeded to do his best Santa Claus impression, chuckling so smugly that his bowl full of jelly shook in tidal waves.

Who takes pictures of doors in airports??? I'll tell you who. G.G.G.

Off to Atlanta now...

-- Mobilelly Yours, GGG

Army Wife Puts The Smack Down On A Purse Snatcher

2009-08-27T09:00:00.003-05:00

Just another reason why you don't mess with a woman who is surrounded by her children constantly and hasn't had sex in almost a year! This local woman is a tribute to military wives doing what they have to do to keep the household running while the guys are out there in a modern wilderness. (Of course, this could have been a military husband keeping the homefires burning while his wife was deployed, but then again, wouldn't we all wonder why he was carrying a purse? I digress...)

I looked for a link to this story so you all could read it for yourselves, but the only online newspaper that carried this story is my local paper, to which I already subscribe. They wanted me to get an online subscription to access the story, which I find preposterous. So, I will boil it down for you, GGG style.

This lady -- we'll call her Wonder Woman for obvious reasons -- is a mother of three children and has a deployed military husband. She was at ~~Wal-Mart~~ the local mass discount retailer and was finishing up her grocery shopping after having dropped her youngest child off at watchcare on post. Being the proactive superhero that she is, she places her purse in the car before unloading her burgeoning cart. After having scanned her perimeter for enemy infiltrators, Wonder Woman dutifully returns her cart to the corrall, lest it wreak havoc on other ~~minivans and SUVs~~ Millenium Falcons or space shuttles and damage their force fields. Out of the corner of her eye, she spots Swiper moving stealthily to her own rocket, left vulnerable by an open bay door. Faster than she can slap on her sparkly tiara and matching wristbands, she recognizes that Swiper is moving in quickly, and she recalls that the watchcare nazi on post won't allow her to pick up her child without her military ID. With her umbrella in her hand (remarkably, since we haven't had any rain in, like, four months), she proceeds to run after him at warp speed, yelling out, "Swiper, no swiping! Swiper, no swiping! Swiper, NOOOO SWIPING!" This alerted fellow shoppers as to the crime in progress.

By the time our fearless heroine caught up to Swiper, he was getting into the stolen space cruiser he was rollin' in. They fought, they struggled, they talked politics and religion, after which time Swiper attempted to shoot off into orbit WITH WONDER WOMAN STILL HANGING ON TO THE SIDE MIRROR OF THE VEHICLE!!! Upon being interviewed, Wonder commented that she "wouldn't encourage that type of response"; however, I want to kiss this fearless woman for taking the fight to the man!

All's well that ends well. Swiper is behind bars, and Wonder Woman was, in fact, able to get her child out of watchcare. (At least, I assume so -- there was no follow-up story about some woman who had abandoned her child at the CDC (Child Development Center) and thus tainting the image of our fearless heroine.) And that, dear readers, is why you never want to mess with a military spouse -- she will hunt you down and exact justice!

Jackals Are Running The School

2009-08-26T08:02:00.003-05:00

I promise I didn't wake up this morning intending to be one of "those" parents. I sing the praises of teachers and extol the merits of attending school every time I get the chance, having been a teacher in my life before becoming a parent and appreciating any shred of parental or public support. But when the school that your child attends is run by jackals in capris and skirts, it is very difficult to maintain your Stepford smile and keep from vomiting simultaneously.

I considered utilizing my new mobile blog app to blog on-the-spot and snap a picture of the lovely sign at the front door of the school today, but thank the good Lord I had sense not to do that. Heaven forbid someone from my local area would recognize the school and get the local yokels down at the beauty shop or the feed and seed all worked up over talkin' about their baby sister's cousin's girlfriends... you get the point. Either that, or a serial killer with a widow fetish would track me down via my proximity to said school and kill me in my sleep. So I just decided I would come home and rant sans photograph.

Let me say this: I do like this school. I chose to support public schools. I was intentional about buying a home in this town and in this neighborhood in large part due to which school my children would be attending. I make a point to avail myself to my child's teacher and the PTA so that people are aware that they have public support. When I was a teacher in Kansas, we received very little parent support. I believe this was in large part due to the demographics of the local neighborhood and the number of single parent families we had with said parent working more than one job. We did what we could with the resources we had and loved on those kids while we had them, knowing that they would be fed, kept warm and clean, and learn something while they were there. As a Christian mom, I am intentional about getting to know teachers and students and praying for them when I can. I'm not decked out in school colors complete with face paint and pom pons on the first day of school, but I let the teacher know that I would be happy to volunteer when called upon.

That being said...

I've been having some "issues" with Li'l G's school. This stream started trickling in the spring of last year but has turned into a steady flow already on the third day of school. After getting a not-so-parent-friendly vibe last year, I was encouraged to know that some of the administration would be changing for this academic year and had high hopes that the climate would be much more relaxed as a result. Insert insane, high pitched laughing here.

If I have to hear the words "district policy" one more time for the rest of the year coming from the Gatekeeper at the front door, you will likely see headlines in the local paper about a local woman being apprehended for insane ranting and raving at the neighborhood elementary school. (Incidentally, during the writing of this post, the administrator in charge of student affairs commented that our school had moved to implement certain policies prematurely and that he would be going out there to "visit" with the principal today.)

The straw that threatened to break the camel's back came this morning. Apparently, parents are not allowed to walk their children to class anymore on the third day of school. While this really not a big deal in the grand scheme of things, it makes me question the priorities of the administrators and minions posted at doors to do their bidding. There are preschoolers in tears, apprehensive Kindergarteners, and even some very young first graders (Li'l G) who need to be shown that a big school of 700 other children and strange adults really is a safe place for them to be for eight hours, five days a week. If giving these children more than two days to acclimate to their surroundings helps them to be less anxious so that they can concentrate, then why is this a problem for "district policy"? According to the Gatekeeper, and I'm directly quoting here, "There are over 700 kids in this school. How are we supposed to keep track of who's tardy and who isn't if we have parents in the hallway?" I propose that, if we are more concerned about rounding up all the tardy children on the third day of school, many of whom are lost or crying to begin with, the "district policy" does not have its priorities in the right place.

What I understand is this: it is imperative that schools are safe for children. Schools and parents must have open, trusting relationships; otherwise, the efforts of teachers to instruct and support our children will be completely undermined by a strained relationship between the adults in the picture. We as parents are called to model behavior that we want our children to emulate, and respect for authority is one of those behaviors that we expect them to master and obey without question. Parents have to be able to show children how to obey rules, regardless of they agree with them or consider them valid. If school administrators expect parents to hold up their end of the bargain, the least they could do is not humiliate and condescend to them. If relationships are strained between parents and the school, there will always be friction for the entire time the kids are enrolled at the school, and trust me -- this attitude always trickles down to the classroom, which really is the bottom line.

Yes, I promise to behave and not vomit simultaneously upon walking upon school property. And I promise to instruct my children to follow rules regardless of their personal opinions on the matter. And yes, I promise to ask God to gently correct my attitude. But I also promise that I'm watching those jackals closely this year!

Have App, Will Blog

2009-08-25T17:59:00.001-05:00

Mobile app bloggy test #2

-- Mobilelly Yours, GGG

Watch Me Blog In The Carpool Line!!

2009-08-25T14:38:00.001-05:00

Mobile app test

-- Mobilelly Yours, GGG

2009-08-25T14:10:00.001-05:00

Mobile test blog #1

Why I Go To The Gym

2009-07-10T13:53:00.003-05:00

I walked away from exercise and physical exertion in a gym over 11 years ago after "tapping out" of my college's ROTC program. After only a year of doing hard PT, my joints were blown, I was exhausted, and I was beyond sick and tired of having to tolerate college boys "playing Army" when, in fact, most of them weren't even taking contracts to enter the military after college. I was only too happy to go back to a lifestyle of taking it easy, pursuing academic interests, eating and drinking to my heart's content, and popping out bowling ball-sized babies. Then I became a widow who would eventually have to get naked again and have the self-esteem not to be suicidal when I saw the look on the (un)lucky guy's face when he saw me in all my glory.

This was not the only reason why I decided to re-enter the realm of ~~extreme neurosis~~ physical fitness. I also realized, having recently turned 30, that I was no longer the perky, firm, healthy person I had conned myself into thinking I was. And some of you who know me or have seen me in person are already poo-pooing this and formulating your comments about how silly I'm being, etc. Perception is reality, and I try to be realistic about my age and size. Let's be honest, ladies: after 30, and perhaps children, things are longer and floppier than they used to be. You wake up one day and realize that there are simply some things in life you've got to accept and grow old gracefully. I can't make stretch marks disappear no matter how much CrossFit or P90X I do, or how many disgusting salads I force down my gullet. But I can declare war on poor muscle tone and cellulite!

So, with a couple of cute outfits, an iPod loaded with motivational music for kicking major hindquarters, and some specific workouts R. helped tailor for my needs, I entered the gym, dedicated to make my 30s the healthiest, most active and vital years of my life. Once I figured out how to make my gym experience be something I would look forward to instead of dread, I have to admit I was addicted quickly. I lost weight, and most importantly a lot of body fat, and gained a sense of accomplishment that I could affect this sort of change in my health.

That being said, this is not why I go to the gym.

My gym is fairly small. I like going in the mornings when both of the kids are in school. This is the time of day when the cardio room is full of senior citizens and a few stay-at-home moms. It's a pretty regular group of faces around here. I also started attending a pilates class and have been known to schedule doctor's and hair appointments around this class, as well as my cardio class. Again, a dedicated group of people, mostly women, are part of my regular experience in these classes.

Here is why I go to the gym: the people.

I have seen a young mother of two transform her life, and it motivates me. "Kristen" has gone from being over 50 pounds overweight with congestive heart failure to being toned and fit, lost weight, and a cardio junkie. She has literally bought years back of her life and will be able to see her children grow up, something that was seriously in danger of not happening just two years ago.

I have seen stay-at-home moms come out of their shells and network with one another, allowing themselves to invest in their own physical and emotional fitness to trust a childcare worker with their small children. They realize the importance of having a little "me" time and don't feel guilty for it.

I have seen senior citizens huff and puff at the cardio machines or shake their money makers in the Jazzercise class. As they are helping to fight off things like osteoporosis or heart problems, they are socializing and interacting in the community, reinforcing bonds and friendships that I imagine they've had for decades.

I have seen a friend of mine, who clearly lives with scoliosis, come to pilates regularly and is one of the advanced students in the class. I say "friend" -- I don't even know this woman's name. Upon hearing of my grandmother's surgery later in the day, she took the time to talk to me about her own ailing 90 year-old father and what her family is enduring. Even though we may not know each other's names, we notice when the other is not in class. We have only 5-10 minutes for any conversation, but I could tell you more about her than my next door neighbors.

Another pilates friend, "Linda," volunteers in quite possibly the scariest neighborhoods in Bell County. Upon hearing about my caregiving ministry that I'm researching and trying to develop, she asks if you have to be a member of the church to be involved. This woman has 20+ years of involvement in this type of ministry, and you can't tell me the Lord didn't place us in each other's paths so that we could be establishing a friendship that might prove to benefit ministry and outreach to the elderly, lonely, or needy.

Physical fitness is once again important in my life; however, the gym offers me spiritual exercise all the time. To see God moving and working in the lives of people, meeting everyone where they are and being blessed by the imprint that they make on this world, is something I never expected to see in an environent that smells of rubber flooring and body sweat. No wonder I'm so hooked.

Rage Against The Dying Of The Light

2009-06-25T17:43:00.003-05:00

I'll be honest. I have never been a huge Farrah Fawcett fan. In fact, when I heard that she had a documentary showing her journey through cancer, I must admit it ticked me off a little. I mean, why should we care about this? Millions of average joes are diagnosed with and fight cancer on a daily basis. This whole "let me use my celebrity to put a 'face' on cancer" business just irritated me like a pebble in a shoe. The 'face' I put on cancer is that of my friend, Jenster. My grandfather. Li'l G's German oma back in Georgia. A hardcore Army wife. These are the real faces of real people that have been faced with cancer and kicked it square in the face and said, "Not today; not on my watch." Thanks anyhow, Farrah -- already have a meaningful association here without Hollywood attempting to create meaning here.

And then I watched her film, "Farrah's Story."

And then I felt like a jackass.

What I saw was not some blonde chickie who was famous in Hollywood. What I saw was a child of God, looking with eyes of bewilderment at life, at creation, and how death is not near as far away as many of us might think. I saw in her eyes fear, hope, caution, exhaustion, delight in simplicity, wonder. What I saw was a fellow human, trying to navigate her way in this sea of the uncertain human experience.

I was so touched. True, I really don't need to watch a movie to have an epiphany on the effects of a disease on a person, but in an age where we all drool like Pavlovian subjects at the mention of "reality television" or infidelity between Jon and Kate, this was reality. I believe the Discovery channel calls it "actuality." We do not need films like "Farrah's Story" to make cancer, alzheimers, or children with autism finally seem real to us; we need them to retain a sense of connection during very human experiences -- life, death, birth, love, grief, affliction -- all these things which God calls us to yoke alongside one another and experience in community.

I do not know if NBC will replay "Farrah's Story;" however, if it is rerun, do yourself a favor. Turn off the "Jon & Kate" episodes you DVRed and watch. It is a shining example of how one woman refuses to give up on herself, and those around her cannot help but love and support her and her tenacity. May we all go down fighting.

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

--Dylan Thomas

C.S. Lewis: Narnia? Not Quite...

2009-06-12T20:32:00.004-05:00

Let me lay the ground work; then, we'll get to the comments about C.S. Lewis...

So I've embarked on this journey of trying to gird my brains with information this summer. Information that will hopefully be a resource as I attempt to piece together a care giving ministry at my church. When my pastor initially discussed this with me, I was surprisingly excited about the task at hand. My normal reaction would be one of, "Oh, no, not me. I'm not qualified/ordained/organized/"holy" enough..." So many times I would be tempted to back out of leading such an effort, but this time I met his gaze with some enthusiasm. It's an area of ministry that I would have never picked out to be involved with, much less coordinate or lead others' efforts. So hopefully that's a seed of God-planted affirmation.

My second reaction was, "Uh oh. I am really not qualified." I graduated from an informal, two year training of "average joes" who want to step up their involvement in their church and congregation. I am not any sort of professional counselor, pastor, etc. When my pastor left in late January, I saw a need to pick up a neglected ministry and fulfill a need. I began visiting with and taking communion to the sick and immobile people who cannot make it to church anymore, and I have received enough positive feedback to know that my efforts are appreciated. However, this should not and cannot be a pastor-centered ministry. There are too many people, both in our congregation and the world at-large, who need this type of one-on-one ministry. It's called care giving. My favorite way of putting it: ministry of presence. A ministry of presence is something that we're all qualified and called to do as believers. My job will be to gather a dedicated group of volunteers and connect them with those in need of this intentional fellowship.

So it occurs to me that the only experience I have is that of being literally plopped into people's homes and apartments, praying that God would be amongst our fellowship and keep me from doing or saying anything stupid. If I am to serve as a servant leader, I need to have some resources. Essentially, I need some tools in my belt. Out of all the books I have chosen to read, this is the one I have finished first:

"A Grief Observed," by C.S. Lewis. I had heard about this book and wanted to read it for some time but had forgotten about it. Having lost a spouse, I am able to relate on some level to those who have also gone through this type of loss, but I'm constantly trying to find a way to express thoughts, glimpses, wrestlings with God that I have experienced to those who have not had to go through this. This book gives a voice to those of us who have been down this road but can't quite put a finger on how to describe it. If you have been through the death of a spouse, please read this book. If you are married, please read this book. C.S. Lewis, like myself, had to do some serious restructuring of how he perceived death, marriage, eternal life, Heaven, God, and so forth. For us, we had to go through our grief as we navigated these murky spiritual waters. Do yourself a favor now and really take a hard look at how you answer some of these questions:

1) What is the role of death in a marriage?
2) Regardless of what my religion tells me, do I expect to be reunited with my spouse and/or loved ones?
3) Where, geographically, is Heaven?
4) What type of awareness does one have after death?
5) Do relationships continue on after death?
6) What is the point of enduring pain?

Most of the people I know who read my blog (if they haven't given up on me yet! haha!) will have a Bible verse for each of these answers. I encourage you here: put away the Bible. Step away from the reliable comfort of the Word and go into a graduate level application without your notes. Close your eyes, and picture your spouse gone. Their smell, gone. Their snoring, gone. Their companionship, gone. The heat of their body pressed against you as you sleep at night, gone. And not deployed, either. Gone. Imagine forgetting the sound of their voice. Imagine wondering if the way you remember him/her is really the way he/she was at all. All of these factors, and many more that we cannot perceive ahead of time, weigh heavily on a person's heart and affects the answers to those questions. The type of relationship you have with God prior to an event like this significantly affects how you navigate grief and loss, but the experience itself gets equal billing in the decision making process of someone left in the wake of their absent mate.

Clive Staples Lewis (yes, that's what C.S. stands for) apparently never intended to publish these four journals, now chapters, that he penned after the death of his wife. Writing being his mode of expression, he worked out his grief ponderings on paper and left us a gift therein. What you witness is a man desperately in love, desperately lost, wrestling with himself, God, and the "grief process." His words are tender, raw, scathing, sorrowful, hopeful, realistic, searching, disturbing -- he is real about what he is experiencing. You will not find theology in this book. There are no fictional allegories about Aslan, no floral writing about "glory to God" or "let it be Thy will." Instead, you will take a peek into the mind of a one who has had part of him amputated and realizes he must somehow survive.

From the first paragraph of Chapter One, Lewis hits the nail on the head: "No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear. I am not afraid, but the sensation is like being afraid. The same fluttering in the stomach, the same restlessness... At other times it feels like being mildly drunk, or concussed." Chapter Two is not for the faint of heart. Here is where he gets to the dirty work of wrestling with God, reality, and eternity. He speaks at length about one's faith being like a rope and the level of trust we assign to our beliefs. Sure, we trust a rope to keep a box tied shut. There is no stress on its fibers. However, "suppose you had to hang by that rope over a precipice. Wouldn't you then first discover how much you really trusted it?" (p. 23) He also muses over how our beliefs and our faith is like a delicate house of cards that, however carefully constructed, is easily demolished. He comes around in Chapter Four to a beautiful change in perspective about his house of cards, demonstrating that this type of spiritual questioning and challenging is necessary to prune our spiritual bushes in order to stimulate healthy growth.

One of the most profound observations he made was regarding death and marriage. For many of us, we see these two concepts in perhaps one of two ways:

1) We marry. We live together in marriage until one of the partners dies. When the second partner dies, the relationship continues, almost as if it had been paused in the meantime. We're reunited, walking hand in hand for eternity; or,

2) We marry. We live together in marriage until one of the partners dies, at which time we are free to search for a partner and remarry. Wash; rinse; repeat. Reunification in heaven, maybe yes, maybe no.

In other words, we see death as either a cosmic pause in our relationship, or the finite end to it. Lewis believes that "bereavement is a universal and integral part of our experience of love. It follows marriage as normally as marriage follows courtship or as autumn follows summer. It is not a truncation of the process but one of its phases; not the interruption of the dance, but the next figure." (p. 50) I felt as if someone had taken my hands out of cuffs the minute I read that. How freeing! For me, this makes marriage possible -- I don't have to fear death as being the unknown or the end. It is part of the process, the natural cycle of life and love, put into place by Life and Love Himself. It certainly does not remove pain, as pain is part of the natural experience of living as much as happiness or love. For some reason, it helps to make sense of pain to me.

I know this post may seem a little academic, and in a way, I would feel guilty reviewing C.S. Lewis and not paying closer attention to some of his details. I think this book was a great starting point for me, both personally and "professionally." Personally, I'm always in search of connecting with others who "get it." Professionally, I'm not a professional anything, besides maybe a speculator, but this is a great tool to hand to others who have not had this experience firsthand. It is a great tool for those going through a similar circumstance. Rather than preaching to people about what the Bible says about death, no more tears in Heaven, God will be your husband, and all the other ridiculous crap people have thrown my way, however well-intentioned it was at the time, I would rather hand this book to them and encourage them to see it as a conversation with a real person, looking realistically and practically at life, death, and love through a holy lens.

Class of 2021

2009-06-02T19:44:00.006-05:00

It's hard to fathom, as you look at your squirming, bewildered newborn, that they will not always be tiny and helpless. Making a connection between this little stocking-capped person who can curl up in the crook of your arm and the lanky teenager smelling up your house isn't one easily made. And while my children are still quite young, the ways in which they have grown both delight and depress me. Simply put, they are growing up, and there's nothing I can do about it.

Case and point: Kindergarten graduation. Seriously, who came up with this? Someone who exacts emotional revenge on parents of five- and six-year olds, that's who. Is the growth chart on the bathroom wall not enough of a reminder that this precious, chubby person would rather watch High School Musical than Backyardigans, which WAS her favorite show until she left the soft, sweet cocoon of preschool? Do you just enjoy watching me in pain?!?

All drama aside, Li'l G did, in fact, graduate from Kindergarten today. Given the recent events in my family, as you can read from the previous post, my emotions have been maintaining the red-line area for a couple of weeks, so I was determined to keep it together for Li'l G's sake if for no other reason. This was actually quite simple to do, as I was shooting her daggers with my eyes since she and the little girl sitting next to her were giggling and pushing for the majority of the occasion. But, as per usual, I was struck by several precious moments during graduation that pressed through the floodgates and tore me up good.

After each student had walked the stage and received his or her awards and diploma, all of the Kindergarteners gathered on the stage to sing their sweet, innocent version of that song that says, "The world is a rainbow, made of many colors..." This song puts into simple language, that even they can understand, the concept of living in harmony with people who are different from us. What a profound Kindergarten concept with which we adults continue to struggle! What I saw on their faces: joy, opportunity, promise. I wanted to cherish that space in time for each of them, a time when children genuinely care about the well-being of every student in their class, a time when they know that, if only for that eight hour span of time at school, the adults in their lives love them and want to help them succeed. I watched each child walk across that stage, and I wondered what they would look like at high school graduation, if they made it that far. I watched the kids I knew well from Li'l G's class and cried because I was so stinkin' proud of each of them. These precious little people.

At the end of the gala event, yet another sadistic person had put together a slide show, a poignant compilation of pictures and song that captured each class and showcased the kids doing what they do in Kindergarten. Of course, the only dry eyes in the room belonged to Bud, who was begging to go home by this point in the show. All the while, I was literally willing myself not to cry. As the lights lifted and children were dismissed to accompany their parents back to their respective classrooms is when the bomb dropped on my house.

Li'l G was upset. She was crying, had apparently been crying for several minutes during the slide show. At first, I assumed that the events of the day had caught up with her and she realized she would miss her friends and teachers during the summer. (Keep in mind this is the child who weeps over sad books, cartoons and movies like, "Velveteen Rabbit," and, "Little One.") I asked her why she was so sad and was mentally preparing the salve for her little breaking heart when she said, "I'm sad because I miss Daddy."

Of course, this same thought had been playing in my head during all of graduation. We have reached the beginning of many milestones in life that will come and go without the presence of T. by her side to cheer her on and be her Number One fan. It's a day I have dreaded since November 30, 2005. The mother in me grieves for my children that they will experience their loss over and over again every time something like this comes up. As wonderful as today was, there was no denying its bittersweet aftertaste. The Christian in me reasons back at Grief, reminding me that death has been conquered by the Risen Christ and that the connection between T. and his children is still there and remains forever, albeit behind a gossamer-thin veil that is just opaque enough to always leave room for them to doubt his eternal love of them and how proud he will always be of who they are. In the end, we just sat there, Li'l G and I, and had a good, ugly cry, the world of happy mommies, daddies, and grandparents swirling around us, completely oblivious about the little girl with the broken heart huddled with her mother who could do nothing but quietly cry with her.

What Li'l G and I experienced together was only part of what occupied my thoughts. After I thought of what a loss it was for T. not to see his children grow up, blossom, and move through life, I thought what an opportunity this would've been for R. to have been here today. If we are ever going to transition to being a blended family, R. will have to be there for these milestones. What I have learned thus far, and will no doubt be doing graduate-level research on this summer, is that the transition time of learning how to blend a family makes the milestones less bittersweet. R.'s presence, be it simply in our lives or physically being there, is tangible evidence of the cycle of life, continuing to grow and change into a new person or a new situation. R. brings continuity to a life that has felt like the pause button was pushed almost four years ago. His presence does not erase the pain; rather, it demonstrates that it can be survived and that life, most assuredly, goes on.

The date today is June 2, 2009. I've got 12 more years of living and loving to prepare for Li'l G's next big step into the world. Congratulations, Little Lady. I'm so proud of you.

"I thank my God every time I remember you... he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus." -- Philippians 1:4, 6

Legacies

2009-06-01T08:09:00.003-05:00

I have had a million things on my mind about which to blog: an unbelievable show I watched recently about Amish teenagers, some of the lessons I've been learning as my involvement in ministry grows and changes, personal updates, etc. All of that came to a screeching halt on the Friday before the Memorial Day holiday weekend when my grandmother suffered an acute gall bladder attack that nearly took her life and left my family completely rattled.

The circumstances of how things began are nothing short of miraculous. Any other day of the week, she would've experienced the beginning of her symptoms in a quiet, empty house as my grandfather ran his usual errands around town. (Although he is an octogenarian, his energy and drive puts many of us whippersnappers right in our place. I have definitely inherited some of his "ADD"-like behaviors, haha...) At any rate, my grandparents had company -- my uncle from California -- who was able to get her quickly to medical care. Had he not been there, all of us would hate to put together the picture of how this story could have played out. At any rate, the random timing of his short visit didn't seem so random after seeing this happen.

As I write this, we have had many ups and downs with my grandmother's physical and mental condition. The life-saving surgery she requires is too risky at this point, so the best thing for her is to rest and regain her strength; however, in the back of my mind, I'm wondering how long until we see a repeat of her extreme pain and agony if this flares up again before she is strong enough for surgery.

Something that has frightened some family members is her willingness to go Home. As far back as I can remember, my grandmother has made very clear to me that we all have important work to do "in the highways and hedges" for the Lord until we are called Home, which is where our hearts should ultimately be pointed. When we have talked of injustices and violence going on in the world, especially in regards to children who are abused or starving, she is always moved to tears, her spirit grieving for the Lord to return and bring His own unto Him. While I would love to see her make a full recovery and return to her St. Francis of Assissi-like love and care for her birds and squirrels at her home, as well as her music ministry at a local nursing home, I know that both physically and mentally she is exhausted and weary. I know that she yearns to see Jesus and add her voice to the chorus of those worshipping at the throne. I will be honored to see her through whichever journey God sees fit to send her on, be it here or there. But what moved me to tears was thinking about what she will leave behind.

"Some people come into our lives and quickly go. Some stay for awhile and leave footprints on our hearts. And we are never, ever the same." This quote by Flavia has always been a profound truth for me. Especially after T. died, I could really relate. But what I think about today is the legacy my grandmother leaves behind, what each of us will leave behind. We hear a lot in today's media about presidents and their legacies, how they have shaped the nation in various ways during their time in office. In our own personal lives, we each leave behind a legacy. I've also heard the analogy that children are like glasses, and parents leave behind some kind of indelible fingerprint on the glass, while some parents crack or completely destroy this fragile material. The way we act, think, dress, virtually everything about us impacts those around us and leaves a lasting impression, hopefully a good one if we're lucky.

The legacy my grandmother has already created was so easy to see on the faces and in the hands of my family over the last week or so. There were eight to ten of us waiting to take shifts and sit with her, feed her, or console her at any time during the day or night. The sense of family connection in the ICU waiting room was virtually palpable. But consider who we have learned this from: this is a woman who has hardly sat still a day in her life to eat a complete meal. She is the most selfless serving person I have ever seen, somehow being both Mary and Martha at the same time. Even as she worked hard alongside my grandfather to care of five children of her own, she also tirelessly cared for the sick and elderly in her neighborhood, worked around the clock to care for her own ailing mother and mother-in-law. She lived through the Great Depression as the daughter of a widow and still manages to have a song in her heart and a smile on her face. She is kind and gentle to animals and children alike, and is a prayer warrior to make Mother Teresa look like a complete slacker. She wears her "Good News" pin everywhere she goes as a conversation starter so that she can tell people about Jesus when they inquire about what her pin means. She is Jesus in the flesh.

Her legacy lives on in me as well. Many people firmly believe that, unless you have a "come to Jesus" moment, then you have not really accepted Christ into your heart and made your choice for Him. (Which I have a massive theological difference with, but we'll just save that for another blog...) I was raised with Jesus. He has been a constant presence in my life, as much as my own parents and siblings. My grandmother has everything to do with that. She also frightened me to death about what Hell was going to be like, but again, that's another blog. I have never questioned: a) that Jesus loves me, b) that He is always present with me, even when I feel abandoned and alone, c) I could never stray so far away from Him that He will not always love me, d) that He is the one true Son of God, e) that He died on my behalf so that I might be forgiven of all my sins, etc. You can see where this is going. She didn't cram a bunch of scriptures down my throat and tell me I couldn't listen to pop radio in the '80s or that I had to wear long dresses and never cut my hair. She simply modeled what it means to be a Christian in a fallen world. She explained things to me, sang with me, prayed with and for me, taught me to love others and to be kind. She taught me to bring my faith in a meaningful way to others, not through pleading or judgment, but through example and service. As I embark on care giving ministry at my church, I feel like my life has come full circle, in many ways because of the tiny seed which she planted thirty-something years ago.

As I wrestle over what it's like to watch someone fighting for their life, possibly dying before my eyes, I'm realizing that growing older and aging can be a scary thing, but not the frightening experience I once envisioned. It can be a brave, graceful experience journeying slowly back to God, one that I am humbled and honored to be a part of. I only pray that He loans her to us for a little while yet -- there is so much I feel I have left to learn before she is gone.

"For God so loved the world He sent His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have eternal life." --John 3:16

A Soldier's Prayer

2009-05-25T11:01:00.004-05:00

"I asked God for strength, that I might achieve,
I was made weak, that I might learn humbly to obey...
I asked for health, that I might do greater things,
I was given infirmity, that I might do better things...
I asked for riches, that I might be happy,
I was given poverty, that I might be wise...
I asked for power, that I might have the praise of men,
I was given weakness, that I might feel the need of God...
I asked for all things, that I might enjoy life,
I was given life, that I might enjoy all things...
I got nothing that I asked for -- but everything that I had hoped for,
Almost despite myself, my unspoken prayers were answered.
I am among all men most richly blessed."

-- An Unknown Confederate Soldier

"Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends." -- John 15:13

Good Grief

2009-05-19T15:59:00.004-05:00

No, this is not a post about Charlie Brown. I've been doing a little digging around today on some professional resources for care giving and contemplating some of my errands and have had a minor epiphany. Sort of, I think.

I met with the current pastor at church today. As many of you know, I completed training as a Parish Lay Minister in January and have been involved in a care giving sort of ministry to people who, for whatever reason, cannot make it to church any more. We spoke for a couple of hours about the work I've been doing, current needs, what we'd like to see this evolve into, what needs we'd like to anticipate or programs that should be developed. In short, it's too much work to pile upon a pastor, or even to share between a pastor and one or two other people who volunteer to help. What we need is a swat team of caregivers, which is basically what I've been charged to develop.

Uh, ok. Just how in the heck am I supposed to do this?!? I've barely got any experience doing this myself, much less be the one coordinating and training volunteers! So where can I turn for resources on care giving, I asked the pastor. He sent me to the Stephen Ministries website. Some of you may have heard of this incredible caregiving ministry that is offered in churches of all denominations. It is one-on-one support between the care receiver and a lay person (i.e., trained "average joe," not a pastor), and there is extensive training for those who are said ministers. I don't know all the details, but you can read up on it by hitting the link.

Anyhoo, I stumbled upon a book that I ordered that I would love to buy for every person on planet Earth to manditorily read: "Don't Sing Songs to a Heavy Heart: How to Relate to Those Who Are Suffering." It's written by the man who got this ministry started, and I can't wait to read it. It immediately made me think of Job's friends who thought so highly of themselves and of the godly words they thought they were offering, when actually they were being insufferably cruel. It's kind of funny, actually. I remember reading the book of Job some time after Tom died, and some of my Christian friends assumed that I was reading it to identify with Job being faithful to God despite his overwhelming grief. Actually, I turned to Job to know how to deal with people who thought they were bringing help into my life when, in fact, they were crushing my heart and adding to my grief. And don't get me wrong -- we see how God deals with Job, who got it right up to a point. But I am infinitely glad that there is a book in circulation that deals with this problem.

So many people earnestly and innocently believe that offering words of hope and scripture are a way to shed holy, loving light on loss. To the person on the receiving end, it's a real crap shoot as to whether or not those words will be received in the way in which they were intended. And while the person trying to offer support and comfort might feel hurt by the rejection of their sentiments, it would be soooo helpful if they could remember: it's not about them. To expect someone experiencing raw emotions and navigating the pea-soupy waters of grief to be socially acceptable, gracious, understanding, etc., of this is really asking a lot. Not everyone is able to look past it and know that you didn't mean to hurt them, or you're just trying to share your faith, or whatever your reasons might have been. The best thing to say is...

Nothing. Just be there.

At least, that has been my experience and that of many others I have known who have gone through loss of any sort. And loss doesn't necessarily mean death, but that's another post althogether...

At any rate, if you find yourself working with people, working in a church setting, etc., this book might be worth the read. I'll let you know in a month or so what I think about it.

The other thing that has got my hamsters jogging is non-traditional living. And by that I don't mean gay marriage, so just don't even go there. Let me explain...

As I was happily Googling before pilates this morning, over my cup of Hawai'ian joe, I googled something to the effect of "fathers day second dad," "fathers day dad in training," etc. What I was going for was gift or card ideas for the man in my children's lives who loves and adores them, shares in their care and discipline when we are together, etc. What I found were dozens of posts on discussion boards of women wondering how to honor these kinds of men in their lives. Some of the answers back were interesting, funny, and downright rude. What stuck out to me was this:

1) I'm not the only one going through this.

2) There's a growing need in our society to address the non-traditional sector. Like it or not, I think we're here to stay, y'all.

I know that this may not affect many of you, but once it does, it becomes stark and apparent to you in every area of your life. I have had to explain for three years now why my kids attend the Father's Day luncheon with their grandfather and hope and pray that it doesn't make them sad. My kids don't have active memory of T. -- R. is the only father figure they have known. I cringe every time we pass a little girl wearing a "Daddy's little princess" t-shirt now that Li'l G can read. What section of Hallmark do you head to in order to find a Father's Day card for a widow, or a Mother's Day card for a widower? Where exactly are the "Not-So-Merry Christmas" cards for those going through their first holiday after losing a loved one? Is it possible to find a Father's Day card for a man who has not biologically fathered children with you yet, but yet fathers your children? What kind of sentiment is passed along to a foster parent or other family member functioning like a parent? What about those of us who want to celebrate major milestones in our lives, like being cancer-free for an entire month or year, or becoming a "hyster-sister?" I don't point these things out to get to wear my martyr pin again, but these are just the things I was pondering today...

While I am certainly not the fount of creativity from which this line of alternative Hallmark will spring, but if I was smart, I'd come up with something and slap a copyright on it because non-traditional life and experiences are actually becoming pretty commonplace.

What I've walked away with is this: the amount of need in this world is overwhelming to a human, but thankfully, not so for God.

Communion, Cats, and Coconuts

2009-05-18T21:09:00.008-05:00

Bum bum BUUUMMMM!!!! I'm baaaackkk!

Yes, I've been away for, well, a little while. ~~Some~~ Many of you have noticed that it's been almost three months since my last entry. Several reasons for that:

1) As mentioned in the previous entry, I've been concentrating time back in the gym. I realized that the holiday pounds were sticking around, and I was already back from my spring break trip with the kids -- in March. I've kept up my committment to pilates and stepped up my cardio to three days/week. I ended up scrapping the CrossFit because it was really bulking me up. I looked like a ghetto girl sans ghetto, bootily speaking. Wasn't pretty. Had to drop weightlifting altogether, and my joints were happy to hear the news.

2) My former pastor officially left at the end of February, leaving me to stand in the gap for a crucial area of ministry that had been neglected -- fellowshipping with and taking communion to our shut-ins. For those of you unfamiliar with the term, a "shut-in" is someone in ill health or has any sundry other reason(s) why they are unable to come and worship with us at Sunday services. Many times these people are in nursing homes or assisted living facilities; other times, they are simply home-bound and it isn't safe for them to venture out of the house or be around crowds of germ-toting people. This item right here is an entire series of blogs that have been simmering in my heart like rich, hearty gumbo -- it's worth blogging about, but I will have to be careful to be confidential. So so so many things I want to share that I have learned while serving in this capacity. Needless to say, since we have not had a full time pastor, I'm the one making hospital visits and making sure these people are not forgotten during times of transition.

3) Spring break came in March, and we braved the wet and cold to spend time with R. These trips are so much fun. The kids are old pros now at navigating airports, long lines at security, and moving walkways. Flying through Denver feels like stopping at an old friend's house at this point.

4) We had to find a new home for the cats. This was a significant emotional event at my house. I spent many a sleepless night in prayer, which may seem silly considering what a burden and source of annoyance Newman in particular has been (the white one), but they have always been family nonetheless. Blog forthcoming on this topic for sure.

5) The month of April is a nightmare some years. This year really wasn't too bad, church-wise. The lenten season brings with it extra fellowship opportunities during the week, as well as contemplative worship time. Unfortunately, extra rehearsals for church musicians can wear out small children and their already-worn-out parents. My nephews also have birthdays two weeks apart in April, so we are always pulled in many directions this month. Went by in a flash.

6) We just went to Hawai'i for eight days and partied our coconuts off! We came home feeling like solar panels for the lush, tropical sun. We made sure R. wasn't lonely over there as he worked, and we also made sure that the beaches and pools were well-supervised. I was repeatedly hit on by a homeless diabetic man who wore a wool beanie to the pool and claimed to be Sean Connery and wanted to spread the Good News of the gospel. Apparently, God had only called him to spread said Good News to women in two piece bathing suits, so poor R. missed out on the fun.

The bummer of this trip is two-fold. Readjusting to the time change, which for us is five hours this time of year. The kids, as per usual, did fine. I was dragging for a couple of days. But I came back to a calendar with nothing on it, and I was so bored not having R. around. Also, switching from having someone with whom to share your time, even the mundane everyday sort of stuff, to being a single parent who sits in a quiet house alone every night is nothing short of bizarre. And even though there's always conversation over the phone, nothing beats having a shoulder to curl up next to as you laugh hysterically at "King of the Hill."

Am I sorry for the lag time here? No, not really. I have missed all the people that read my blog and leave comments. I will confess: I haven't actually been keeping up with my bloglines. I'm sure the post count is well into four digits at the rate most of you guys blog. But to be quite honest, I love working out. I love the smell of fresh-cut grass and something cooking on the grill. I love hanging out with 90 year-olds who are raging against the dying of the light or have served proudly in WWII and Korea. I love chaperoning field trips (sometimes). I love ripping weeds out of my yard and re-discovering my flower bed. I love watching the sun set as I drink a frozen sangria-swirled margarita while the kids chase bugs and watch the boats go by at one of my new favorite restaurants. I love spending time, even if we don't speak with words, with my sweetie. I love rescuing garden snakes from being run over in traffic. I'd trade real life for a computer screen any day of the week.

Empowered For The Journey

2009-02-23T15:04:00.005-06:00

I have taken up a new hobby of sorts. It's insane and brilliant at the same time. I have become a little bored with my regular gym routine ever since I decided a year ago to reclaim my health at the beginning of my thirties and start making it look good. It's called Crossfit. I blame this latest addiction on R., as he was the one who began doing this last spring, and I completely scoffed at it. Me, do a pull up?!? Uh, yeah, what prescription medication are you abusing? You surely have me confused with someone who cares about more than Cheetos, Double Stuff Oreos, and sleeping in at every possible opportunity.

I did eventually roll my bones back into the gym and have been pretty hooked on it ever since. R. should be a personal trainer because, not only does he have an endless wealth of information about physical fitness and the human body, but he's a great motivator. The times we've hit the gym together have been great. I need someone to cheer me on and hold me accountable, and he's my Number One Fan. Or at least does a great job of making me think so as every cell in my body is crying, "Mutiny!" and begging for me to stop and rest.

With his encouragement, my disgusting vanity and competetive nature, and the knowledge that I'm actually caring for the temple entrusted to me by my Creator, I feel empowered to do things and experiment with activities that I would have never even considered five years ago. It makes me feel more productive, and I also like setting this example for my children of caring about being active and taking care of myself while I am in good health. God empowers us, too, and helps up to develop our spiritual fitness that will serve us in the future when we need to rely on it during hard times.

In Mark 9:2-13, we read about Jesus' transfiguration. Some miraculous things happen that are more than a little confusing to the disciples, and likely a little terrifying to boot. The voice of the Father commands them to listen to the "beloved Son," and afterwards the Father has empowered the Son for the next stage in his life, that of his active ministry, an intense time of movement and preaching that begins a sort of countdown to his eventual death and resurrection. In short, Jesus has one heckuva journey ahead of him.

Many theologians, from the days of the Acts 2 church until our own present time, like to debate Jesus' humanity versus his divinity. Was he really a human, true flesh and blood? Is it possible for him to have actually been God? Is it conceivable that he was actually fully both God and human, or some weird combination? I'll leave that argument to the true theologians. My personal belief is that Jesus was fully human and fully divine, "God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God, begotten not made, of one being with the Father," as we read in the Nicene Creed. This is the understanding from which I work. That being said, the way I understand this passage is such:

Jesus had a mission during his time among us, and like all things, God had a perfect time during which Jesus would serve out obediently that purpose for which he was sent. This was it -- showtime. Jesus didn't go around speaking in parables and working miracles as a toddler or a teenager, although we know that he was raised in a way that had him in and around the temple and discussion of the books of Moses. This was a new journey in his life, and God gave all power and glory to Jesus so that he would have the tools he needed to go the distance.

As I heard these words in church yesterday, I thought about all the people I know and the different journeys they are on. Some are embarking on journeys of physical healing and recovery, some are journeying into the realm of the unknown after having lost jobs in this crummy economy. Others are tentatively dipping their toes into the scary, deep pool of dating after divorce. Yet others can see the next journey that God is calling them to take, and they are hesitant to take that first step into the unknown. Personally, I'm embarking on a journey of service in my church to minister to those who are ill or elderly and cannot attend Sunday services. No matter what road we are all on in this life, God is standing on the sidelines cheering us on and empowering us to continue moving forward. God is the source of our strength, not our own mental fortitude or best efforts. By surrendering that control to God, we allow God to completely fill us with the skills, insights, patience, endurance for the journey ahead. Like R. cheering me on to do that last painful set of pull-ups or squats, God is there to see us through and knows what we need to keep us going.

A Proud Pookie

2009-02-22T22:09:00.005-06:00

Yeah, yeah, I know I haven't blogged in a while, but that's a whole other blog. R. and I were entertaining ourselves tonight by dinking around on the internet, and he told me about this movie he was in on YouTube. While most people might raise an eyebrow when their significant other admits that they are in a "movie on the internet," I didn't flinch -- I know my Pookie.

I just have to say this: I'm so stinkin' proud of the work he did while he was over there on his last deployment to Iraq and everyone who continues the mission. I love getting to see him in action, doing what he loves. That's my Pookie!

Nec aspera terrent!!

GGG Unplugged: "Word of God Speak"

2009-01-23T10:34:00.007-06:00

I have had a great deal of stress and heartbreak in my life for the last six to nine months, and I've done relatively little blogging about it. This is not because I feel as though it's too painful to share. On the contrary, I think blogging about it would've been therapeutic and might've even reached out to others weathering this storm. I've decided not to blog about this because of the sensitive nature of everything going on, and I think that to have spoken freely and publicly about what was truly on my heart would have been very damaging in many ways.

Some of you know that my church has really been put through the wringer for a long time now. This Sunday will be my pastor's last Sunday with us. It has been a long, painful road with her, and it has crushed my heart to have witnessed everything unfold. I can attest that there is some serious spiritual warfare going on, like none I've ever seen before, and even though there have been some sunbeams pop through the clouds along the way, there are still dark, churning stormclouds over head that simply refuse to burn off and go away.

The praise band has been practicing this song, and I hope we get to do it this Sunday. If not, at least I will have had a chance to lift it to the Lord as my true prayer here. I heard Matt Maher, writer of the song, "Your Grace Is Enough," talking about composing that song during a heavy time in his life. This upbeat song he described as a lament, and he was quick to remind people that God blesses us when we praise through hard times and suffering. I agree with Matt -- I, too, have had to do a lot of that in my life and know he's exactly right. So, that is my intent with my musical offering today; may it rise as incense before the Lord and be pleasing in his sight. Amen.

My Belated MLK/Obama Post

2009-01-20T18:38:00.005-06:00

It's often been said that the English language is one deficient of words to properly describe the human experience. For example, Biblical Greek has many words that all mean "love;" however, each word describes a different kind of love and leaves no shadow of doubt for the reader as to which type of love is being described.

I personally experienced this lack of adequate language this week when I was carefully crafting my tribute to Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., and the Presidential Inaugural events of this week. After working for well over an hour on the perfect musical-blogtastic post, Blogger decided to steal my joy and eat my post, never to be enjoyed by you, The Readership. The injustice! The tyranny! O the conspiracy, Lord; how long will you ignore my cry??? I was so beyond having proper language to describe my anguish, I poured myself a rum and coke and called R. to clear my mind.

At any rate, I have been challenged by S4J to come up with something edifying to say about this experience. All I can think of is that the Holy Spirit knew that I could do better than that and made sure that the post didn't "make it to print." Instead, you will, God-willing, Insh'allah, get to read this one.

All I really want to say to sum up the lost post is that Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., is someone that I really admire. He stuck his neck out for something that mattered and held out for the right thing when it would've been so much easier in the short run to give in. He knew that the hard times were worth pushing through, and I believe he did this in the most godly way possible. Was he a saint? Surely not. I'm sure I'll read something tomorrow that I've never seen that says he did drugs or cheated on his wife or some terrible thing, although I'm not aware that he ever did any of that. In my mind so far, he is a champion to anyone who has ever been subjected to humiliation and inhumane treatment. The fact that he chose the hard road inspires me to do the same. I feel like President Bush had to chose to take the hard road and had the wherewithal to see it through, even though it cost him popularity points. I have more respect for someone who sees it through than one who caves to public opinion.

At the same time, just a day after we honored the memory of this amazing man, we placed an African-American in the White House. You all know I'm not a political fan of his, but I can't help but hope that somehow God allowed Dr. King to look down on or be aware of just what was going on as a way to say, "You see? You didn't die for nothing. Your life mattered!" This was a huge step for our country to take, and it's about dang time we did.

All that being said, I luuuurve this song by James Taylor. In fact, it's probably one of my three most favorites of his of all time. It's a perfect way to get our game face on for the next four years and put into perspective what needs to really happen in our country, regardless of political alignment and popularity contests.

GGG Unplugged: "Welcome To Our World"

2008-12-21T15:59:00.000-06:00

Brought to you live via GGG Kitchen Cam, it's my first attempt at recording music to broadcast via the internet. You guys had better enjoy this while it's still free! I mean, seriously, when I'm packing out stadiums and stuff, you all will be able to remember back to when I was putting music out there for free... Oh, wait... it's not my song... Crap! Can't charge for it! haha... Oh well. Wishful thinking I suppose.

Yes, I know part of my head is cut off and the audio lacks much to be desired, but if any of you would like to contribute to the "Launch GGG's In-Home Musical Studio" fund, you just let me know and I'll tell you to whom to make out your check! Until I at least get a tripod, this is the best I got.

I'd like to do these a lot more often; I don't know why it never occurred to me before to do a musical post. So many writers, such as the featured Chris Rice, pinpoint exactly the thoughts going through my head and the prayers whispered in my heart. So hopefully, when I don't have the time to knock out some "amazing" verbage, I will remember to do one of these.

Why this song? Well, for many reasons. Advent is a time of preparation. We prepare our homes to offer hospitality to friends and family. We prepare gifts as gestures of our love toward others. Spiritually, we prepare our hearts by considering the Christmas story and its significance. We intentionally mull over the connection between the manger and the cross. We prepare the world for Christ's return by feeding the hungry, clothing the poor, and giving more generously than we have given over the past year, expecting nothing in return.

This song reminds us why we need Messiah to fill that manger. Our souls hunger, our world reels and aches with toil and strife. We wade through life, wondering when we may welcome Jesus back into our world once again. Really, we welcome Him back into our world every day as we wake up to face the day and all that will transpire. He is truly with us, watching over in times of peril and rejoicing in times of mirth. May our lives be lived as songs of praise, welcoming Jesus to our world anew every day.

Holiday Hope

2008-12-15T11:42:00.005-06:00

"There is a past which is gone forever, but there is a future which is still our own." -- F.W. Robertson

I just have to take a moment to gloat a little. Today is my rockin'-est day of December yet. Got kids off to school this morning, had my hot coffee in hand. We woke up to a day that was already 30 degrees colder than predicted. Seriously, I think our high temperature yesterday was 79 or 80 degrees! Who needs Hawai'i for Christmas when you could take a gamble on Texas?!? At any rate, I got home, put on all my uber-cold weather gear, wrapped my pipes, pulled all of the old, mostly dead plants out of my garden and built a fire in the fireplace. Even as I sit here with my steaming cup of homemade apple cider, I can hear the crackle of the dry pecan wood over the Amy Grant Christmas CD playing. The high temperature for the day was 39 degrees, around 0730 this morning. Temperatures have been dropping slightly all morning, and you can just tell that the thick, grey clouds overhead are pregnant with moisture. What I wouldn't give for some snow!

Speaking of which, this winter storm charging across the midwest reminds me of our first Christmas at FT Riley, Kansas. This Texas felt as if surely Christ were hovering above the horizon, threatening to return -- it was just ungodly cold and snowy for what seemed like years (really just four solid months -- but still!).

I digress. Christmas cards got sent last week. Three out of four PLMA papers have been typed, proofread, and submitted as of today, the original deadline. I've got chili simmering in the crockpot, and I just finished making cookie dough so that the kids can help me bake and decorate our ~~cheap~~ economical Christmas gifts for teachers. I've got all but one last Christmas gift bought and paid for, but I still have wrapping left to do.

Either way, I'm unusually chipper for this time of year. What's up, GGG? Did you put a little Captain Morgan's in that "apple" cider? This just isn't like you! No duh -- I've even surprised myself! Hahaha...

I've actually been mulling over this post now since 10 DEC. I was in the kitchen over at the sink, and looked up long enough to read the quote on my "Home Sweet Home In Family, In Nation, In God" calendar. The quote I fell upon, posted up above, really struck a chord with me, and I wanted to pay that forward to you, The Readership.

We won't even get into all of the problems in the world. I started a short list in my last post that couldn't even cover the tip of the iceberg. When I read this quote, however, I didn't think about anyone else's problems. I selfishly thought of my own. Of course, my thoughts naturally jumped right to losing T. As anyone who specifically loses a spouse, you grieve not just the loss of your mate, and hopefully best friend as was my case, but you also grieve the loss of your future together -- you grieve raising your children together, rediscovering your romance once the nest is empty, seeing each other through health scares and taking care of each other as you prepare to look Homeward. You grieve the loss of children you will never give birth to. For me, I also grieved the loss of the military lifestyle and watching my husband work diligently to earn rank and change jobs and grow as a father. You grieve the loss of being grandparents together. Am I making my point? There are just so many things you can't even think of until you're a little down the road and they smack like big juicy bugs on the windshield of your life. Then you just look at it, crestfallen, and think, "Crap." I'm sure that people who lose children grieve the loss of seeing them grow up, find careers, fall in love and marry, and watching them blossom into the adults you always prayed they would be. I cannot know for sure since that has not been a part of my life. Either way, memories are bittersweet and can cause as much anguish as they do laughter and nostalgic smiles. All you have is the past -- you no longer have a future with this person.

Then my thoughts jumped to my extended family situation. Maybe many of you have been in this position. My grandparents are having issues associated with growing older and reaching a different, difficult stage in life that affects everyone who knows and loves them. There is a lot of musing about how quickly things have changed, how things used to be, and what on earth the future will look like. The grief process has likely begun for some in my family who live far away and see the changes more starkly because they cannot be around to see the gradual progression of life. For them, I think an entire chapter is over and another begun, not necessarily one that is pleasant but rather is part of the natural course of human life. For those of us who live locally, we see the pages turning one or two at a time, but to others who live further away it might seem like reading the first few pages of the chapter and then skipping fifty pages to the next chapter. For all of us, it makes us realize how blessed our past has been with these two precious people and how we long to return to those days when we were all younger, vital, and thriving. But the fact remains that we can't regress to the past.

No matter if you grieve the loss of a loved one, if you have lost your job, if you have fallen out of love with your spouse or you are awaiting news from the doctor regarding your health, there is a past which we all might look back on and realize that it slipped right by us. This can be oppressive at the holidays. No wonder suicide statistics are higher at this time of year. We all need to allow ourselves to take time -- time for rest, time to eat well, time to reflect and pray, time to cry or be angry. These are things that are necessary, not only to keep us sane, but even to keep our bodies healthy. However, it's easy to get stuck there and bog down. We've got to allow ourselves that time of addressing our burdens, a time of healing, and a time of moving forward.

C'mon, GGG, what about Jeremiah 29:11? Don't you know that's the perfect verse here?? Yeah, whatever. That verse used to give me fits. "Oh, really? God has a future and a hope for me? Mmm, yeah, he's got a jacked up way of showing that." As terrible as that sounds, I needed to get to that dark place, the bottom of the pit of despair before I could not look any lower -- I could only look Upward. Only then could I really appreciate how God could act in my life and come to treasure Jeremiah 29:11.

As I wallowed in my muck for a little while, I recalled something I had heard Thelma Wells of Women of Faith fame talk about at an old conference. She gave a personal testimony about a long string of hardships she and her family had endured through the years, and she turned it around with Lamentations 3:22-23:

"22Through the LORD’s mercies we are not consumed, because His compassions fail not. 23 They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness." (NKJV)

Or better yet, read how The Message paraphrases vv. 22-24:

"God's loyal love couldn't have run out, his merciful love couldn't have dried up. They're created new every morning. How great your faithfulness! I'm sticking with God (I say it over and over). He's all I've got left."

After I claimed that as a promise, then Jeremiah 29:11 was less of a bitter pill to swallow. There was, indeed, a future ahead of me, a future I could pursue and take hold of, own for myself. If I already knew God to be consistent and faithful, why would he not uphold this promise, too? I had to come to terms with the fact that the future and hope I had originally envisioned was gone, but that didn't mean that there was not another, completely different, completely wonderful future ahead of me.

The past is just that, and we can't live there. We can dust it off and revisit it, but there is a future ahead of us. It may not look like we planned, but there is a tomorrow. That future waits for us to get up, get moving, and claim it with God's help. That is my Christmas gift to you -- to encourage you to move forward, one small step at a time.

Quick Reflection

2008-12-05T08:55:00.003-06:00

"So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal." -- II Corinthians 4:18

This is the Bible verse on my desk calendar for November 30. This is a date that is etched on my heart forever. For me, it is my 9/11. That is T.'s birthdate into heaven. Really, I struggle with that day and the day before, which is when he had the accident on the motorcycle, but that's a completely different blog. This verse really captures my view of what happened that day in the surgical ICU in LSU Medical Center in Shreveport, Louisiana, and it's something I need to remind myself of more often.

I didn't blog anything on November 30, not because I was avoiding it or dreading it or planning some uber-emotional tribute. We were out at the cemetery laying a wreath that day, with the cold, damp late fall wind whipping our hair around, musing about how long it had been, how fast the time has gone and yet how it has seemed to go so slowly at the same time. I'm learning that, as Heath Ledger's widow has lamented, the longer T. is gone, the more I miss him. Strangely enough, it hasn't kept me from embarking on a deep, sweet love with R., which is God's working in and of itself. In fact, when R. showed up for the holidays, I could just feel every muscle in my body relax and my blood pressure go down. It was so comforting to see the continuity in my life that he brings and how he allows me to both go on loving T. but yet move forward with my life with him. As stressed out and emotional as I get, I know that all my complexities can be exhausting, but he loves me through it and comes back for more.

But back to Shreveport, 2005. I didn't have the extensive mental Scripture file that some of my friends have, but I knew this verse. I couldn't have told you the book, chapter, or verse, but I understood this truth in my heart. When I realized that T. was gone, not breathing, not going to open his eyes any more, not going to sit up and complain about having to eat spaghetti one more time, or fight back to good health, my thinking had to shift immediately from temporal to eternal. To consider the temporal without T. was to want to reach into his chest and pump his heart with my own bare hands to make it work again. I could not dwell on this because I would have begged for death myself. Instead, I know that God had already planted the seed of eternity in my heart -- I instantly had to look beyond where I was, standing over the body that no longer contained the soul and let him go. I actually had to tell him this, that he needed to go. In looking back, he was already gone and I would realize this when piecing together details after my brain was functioning somewhat normally later on. But for me, I had to put him into that eternal context to keep from caving in on myself.

Flashing forward to Advent 2008, I reconnected with a college buddy last night on FaceBook who had not heard of T.'s passing, and it obviously came as a real shock to him. I remember telling my friend Marily about this last year, and she was completely speechless as well. And even just last week, HisGirl was watching Super Nanny and was just floored by the episode involving a widow with a two year-old and a five month-old, which is almost exactly the ages Li'l G and Bud were when T. died. It was a real eye opener for her on what our reality is like, especially with such little ones in the picture. What's amazing to me is that I have come through any of this, and now this feels normal, if such a bland, descriptionless word could ever be used in this context. I have no idea how I have made it this long, and still have no idea how any single day in the future will transpire. All I know is this: having an eternal perspective has everything to do with it.

Consider this: Our economy is as fragile as a glass Christmas ornament. Terrorism is a constant threat. People die every day in tragic ways, and more still are diagnosed with terminal illnesses. Millions of people in our own country sleep under blankets of cardboard in sub-freezing temperatures. Children starve and are abused. In my own life, I have certain ideas on how I'd like things to play out, but there are no guarantees. To live with our focus on the temporal is overwhelming, at least to me. Even the wonderful glimpses we get of beauty and love are not enough to get me by. To live with an eye on the eternal is where I draw my strength and my hope. It helps me to get past all of the pain and hurt in the world, in my own life, and to keep walking toward the One I know to be faithful, the One constant in a world filled with variables. "How do I know this?" I have been asked countless times. To be honest, you can read your Bible or not; I don't really care about that. All I can say is that God has been there for me, revealed to me in real and tangible ways that honestly speaks louder to me than Scripture. Hang me up to dry if you want. I read my Bible as often as I can and revel in its words, but there is absolutely nothing like experiencing, really experiencing, the peace which passeth all understanding in real life. There is nothing like knowing that the same God which brought his people out of Egypt and cared for them in the wilderness for 40 years is caring for me in the midst of my wilderness. There is nothing like knowing that the same God who bodily resurrected my Jesus has my sweet T. in his care right now and has made him whole, healed his broken heart and body, and is guiding the kids and me all at the same time. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I've not read any passage of Scripture that says he will take away our pain if we just pray or come to him. What God does promise is that he will never leave or forsake us. He is there if we keep our eyes on the eternal and don't let the temporal distract us.

As I prepare in my home and in my heart for the birth of Jesus, I think of Him in a tempral perspective, and it brings a lump to my throat. This precious, soft, sweet child is our sacrificial Lamb. Those tiny little fingers and toes will end up bearing Jesus' physical weight and the spiritual weight of our sins on the cross someday. How sad! How tragic! But in an eternal perspective, it inspires awe. This baby boy, through the love and nurture of his earthly parents, grows up and maintains His obedience to the Father. The story begins with the stirrings in the womb, continues through the labor pains, infancy, toddlerhood, life as the son of a carpenter, radical ministry that ends with His death on the cross, and is still continuing at the right hand of the Father. Why wouldn't we want to focus on the eternal in this picture?

This may sound crazy and hair-brained, and I'll give you that, but it has everything to do with how I understand my world, how my perspective has changed and continues to do so. I have got my eyes fixed like a laser past the end of my temporal existence to one that is eternal. It gives me hope and strength to march on with purpose in situations where I cannot comprehend uncertainty, grief, suffering, or even evil in the world. And even as I try my hardest to speak light and life and live what I believe, I still pray constantly, "Even so, come, Lord Jesus!"

May that also be our prayer as we journey toward Christmas and, ultimately, Resurrection Day!

Christmas Thoughts

2008-12-04T21:43:00.000-06:00

I've got so many things on my plate right now this minute that I shouldn't even be posting, but this song has really touched my heart this season.

I promise to be up and posting soon... Enjoy this song -- it really speaks my heart...

The Week(s) In Review

2008-11-23T21:05:00.003-06:00

"A cheerful heart is a good medicine." -- Proverbs 17:22

I just realized today, as I was catching up on all of my Bloglines feeds, that I have been relatively "offline" for almost two weeks now. It seems like a lot longer than that! Not only have I not posted in that long, I also have read very few posts of others. My apologies for being such a slacker!

If your house is anything like mine right now, it's a real mixture of excitement and exhaustion, long grocery lists, recitals, exponential amounts of laundry and cleaning to do, and a potentially sick child as of bedtime tonight. In the midst of this, I'm trying to keep my chin up and soldier on, but my knees are already starting to feel a little weak. Between PMSing this week and celebrating T's third birthday in heaven, I know that God is going to have his hands full listening to my prayers for the next week or so!

In light of all that has gone on in the last two weeks, and all that will undoubtedly transpire over the next one, I thought I'd take this point by point and try to find God's fingerprint in all this mess...

Recitals: Li'l G has had two of these in the last ten days, one of which went for about two hours and ended around 8:30 P.M. on a school night. Ugh!! The one today was so, well, weird. Let me just say that the recital itself went well and was thankfully only 20 minutes long. But when we were warming up and rehearsing her "piece," her debut of "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star," she just mentally shut down. Couldn't even remember the song. Partly she was distracted by Bud watching "Pinky Dinky Doo" in the background, but I suspect now that she wasn't feeling very well. It really made me panic -- she was about to perform this song by herself and she couldn't remember even half of the song that she's practiced almost flawlessly since August! Somehow she pulled it off and did a really good job, but you could tell by looking at her face during the recital something just wasn't right. Then she tossed her cookies tonight after dinner. GREAT! TMI, I know, but I'm a mom so I have no qualms discussing childhood ailments. Now I feel like a total dragon mom for hounding my kid to get out there and do her best when all she probably wanted to do was lay down and croak because she had a low grade fever and wanted to sleep. Where is God in this? In the sweet little face of my beautiful baby girl. She is such a fighter and wants desperately for me to be proud of her. One more recital after Thanksgiving and then we get a month-long break, thank God!

Parish Lay Ministry Academy: I attended my last class session last weekend, and literally wanted to throw a tantrum and refuse to leave when the day was over! This two-year program has been such an amazing experience; it has literally changed my life. I can honestly say that, while I'm so incredibly grateful for this experience, it's made my life extremely difficult in many ways. First of all, there is the time when you have to complete reading assignments, papers, and projects. The kids have certainly watched their fair share of movies or played unsupervised in the backyard (gated and locked, though -- I promise!), and many family members have come through to hang out with them as I spend full-length days in class. Even though these have been serious sacrifices for me, the real difficulties have been internal. While I have had to read some borderline-heretical material, God gave me a clear understanding of what was false teaching and what wasn't and why that was so. I have had to excavate some serious familial demons, assess my own spiritual understandings, and measure that up against society's yardstick. The real problem I'm having is that I have come to some stark, clear understandings about myself and how I believe based on things I have learned. In and of itself, this is not the problem; rather, the problem is how to interact in the world, quite honestly. There are certain perspectives out there, popular and seemingly Biblically based, that I just cannot endorse anymore. Combine my strong conviction with my personality and that should pretty much explain my conundrum in a nutshell. I've also come to the conclusion that I need to pursue seminary. Every possible avenue I've looked into has turned into a dead-end so far, so I'm taking at least the first half of next year to digest what I've learned, get back into shape, volunteer at Li'l G's school, and see what unfolds. I want to savor this time of my children being young and still wanting to be around me. I just have this nagging feeling that my days are numbered the way they stand right now, and I want to enjoy each of those days and cherish them. Where is God in all this? Oh man, he's ALL up in my grill. I feel like Martin Luther walking through that field dodging lightning bolts. The problem is, I'm still unclear on where any of this is leading. So I'm putting the ball back in God's court. And waiting. Again...

Church stuff: Good.grief. You can't even BEGIN to know how much stress this has brought to my life over the last couple of months, much less the last two weeks. Some days I don't know whether to thank God that he put me in the position where I am or to curse the day I decided I needed to be involved. I can say this: I'm learning a LOT about people, both in general and specific ones. In my church in particular, I'm having such a weird experience. To my knowledge, I think I'm the first charter member child who has ended up serving on our church council, which is kinda cool, but is also very eye-opening. I have even asked my praise band cohorts, "Have things always been this way?!? If so, was I just blind to it because I was a kid and didn't notice?!?" Where is God in this big, hairy tangle? Good question! No, seriously, I know he's there. This whole season at my church is like a fire that was raging hot and engulfed with flames at one point and has now been reduced to a pile of ashes. If you poke around in the thick mound of ashes, you will still find a handful of red, glowing embers, and given the right conditions, that fire can be ignited again. Because I'm an emotional person to whom it comes more naturally to react and take things personally, I get all wound around the axle about the drama going on and even want to wash my hands of the whole thing sometimes, but I'm really learning that a handful of people respect my opinions, so I try to be clear and deliberate about what I say. I'm also learning the power of saying nothing. (I know, I know, stop the presses! haha!!) But as I have learned from Exodus 14:14, the battle does not belong to me; however, I am really trying hard to discern what role God would have me take in the next steps we take as a congregation. It's definitely a labor of love for me.

Thanksgiving/Gathering With Family: Who else's Thanksgiving gathering this week will put the "fun" back in "dysfunctional"?!? There is so much strife floating around in my family that at one point today I was actually having chest pains. Once again I was asking, "Have things always been this way?!? Or was I just too young to have noticed that the adults aren't playing nicely together?!?" R. is coming this year and will help us with some of the food prep. I always love schlepping him around with me at these kinds of things. His perspective is unbiased and fresh when it comes to assessing the social atmosphere at these gatherings, and I really appreciate his insights. To be honest with you, I'm desperate for this to be a relaxed, joyous occasion. I want the food to be scrumptious, the weather to be chilly, the home in which we're gathering to be cozy, and the laughter to be contagious. What I absolutely, down-to-my-core cannot handle is eyes rolling, back-biting conversations in hallways and corners, or just crankiness in general. With the third anniversary of T's accident and death just two days later, I am striving with all my might to reclaim Thanksgiving as the happy, comforting gathering that it was when I was a kid, both for my children and for my own sanity. Family drama needs to take a vacation, for crying out loud. Where, oh where is God in this picture? Going straight up my spine and into my heart, keeping me upright with a smile on my face to get me through this holiday. I'm counting on it 200%.

Advent/Christmas: It's been hard for me to have the emotional energy left for this holiday over the last couple of years, and for longer than that I've been so righteously pissed at what our society has made of this holiday. However, this year I have decided to take this holiday captive, too. I'm going as overboard as I can possibly go and still have a dollar left to my name. I'm trying to participate in as many opportunities to provide gifts or support as I can. I am trying to make the house festive and exciting for the kids. I'm trying to wrap my heart around the miracle of Jesus' birth, who He truly is, and how to apply this in my life. I want the kids to have a magical, memorable holiday, while also seeing that not everyone has warm, soft PJs and toys. I want them to be able to connect the soft, sweet baby in the manger to the grown man on the cross at some point. Advent is a season of preparation, sometimes somber anticipation, but always a time of remembrance that God is faithful and fulfills his promises, including his promise to send the Messiah because of his love for us, even when we don't always love him back.

To be honest with you, I haven't been very cheerful lately, which is why I chose the opening verse. And in catching up on some of my blogs, I can tell I'm not the only one. It's a hard time of year for more people than we realize. Case in point, my cousin's sister was just taken off life support recently and died. She had sustained a Christopher Reeve-type injury earlier in the year. It caught us all by surprise. Then a woman in the local community died from a stroke quite suddenly. She had taught music and been involved in a jillion things for over 60 years, and even played piano at my church when I was growing up. Last but not least, Li'l G reported to me on Friday that one of her friends' father was sent to jail last week. This little boy is just adorable but can be a behavior problem. I've written about him before; for some reason, he just touches my heart. Now he gets to go through the holidays with this burden. At the age of five. My heart just aches for all of these families for whom Thanksgiving will feel like a hollow experience -- been there, done that. Yet I know that "there are still good times to be had," just as Shelby told Miss Clairie in "Steel Magnolias." If we really look, get down on our hands and knees sometimes and scrutinize, we can see God at work in all these situations. When I can identify that, it makes it easier for me to find hope, to see even one positive thing, and that uplifts my heart more than kind words or inspiring songs. That, indeed, is good medicine.

My Heroes

2008-11-11T07:17:00.003-06:00

"Blessed by the LORD my Rock, who trains my hands for war, and my fingers for battle -- my lovingkindness and my fortress, my high tower and my deliverer, my shield and the One in whom I take refuge..." -- Psalm 144:1-2a

This is by no means a complete grouping of the men and women serving our country who have touched my life. Two in particular I can think of but couldn't find pictures of are CPT Julie and CPT M. Stubenhofer. CPT Julie is a sweet friend of mine who is a nurse in the Army, and CPT Stubenhofer was the first person I knew personally who died in action. His wife is an amazing woman that I am proud to call my friend. One more is my father-in-law, R.T., who served twice during Vietnam.

To all of you serving now or who have served in the past, you will never know just how much what you're doing means to not just your own country, but to the rest of the world. Your selfless service and sacrifices are truly humbling. To your families, we stand with you, the ones who serve on the homefront.

My Heroes

Thank you all for being my heroes. Happy Veteran's Day.

Samplings From My Mental Smorgasbord

2008-11-10T14:23:00.007-06:00

I have had six or seven different blogs percolating in my mind over the last week or two and have yet to blog about any of them. In fact, I should be loading my sleeping toddler into the car right now this minute to go pick up my daughter from school, but if I don't jot down a couple of ideas before I leave, I'm afraid I may never find them again! Rather than taking the time to blog about each item in full length, I'll give you all the Bottom Line Up Front (BLUF) about each topic over which I've been mulling:

Politics: Christine over at Red Lipstick Diaries has been waiting anxiously for me to post something meaty post-election. And while I have strong opinions and could do just that, I have kept true to my word and not blogged about something for which I had no edifying language to publish. Now that the dust has settled and the Obamas have had their first meeting with the Bushes, here's what I have to say:

Just as Christine herself said on Facebook, it's time to be the united states and time to cease being either the red or blue states. An administration can only be successful if every single person is doing their part. So we deal with the next four years shoulder to shoulder with every other American, regardless of their voting preference. If we want to be perceived as a strong, vital nation, we have to actually be one. That will be harder for some (read: me) than others, but I truly believe that's what has to happen.

Religion: See posted picture above. Really, my religion and politics opinions could all go in one big section. In both areas, it's impractical to be a purist in whichever school of thought you fall under. Contrary to popular belief, extremism is a frightening concept to me. I think there are ways in both these areas to focus on the things that we have in common and emphasize on those, rather than spend our time having conversations where no one is truly being heard. There are certain areas where people are going to disagree, and it doesn't necessarily mean that either side is not truly Christian. Just means they're different. For example, what I'm reading right now for Lay Ministry about leading worship really brings this into light for planning worship services. I'd love to explain all of the amazing things I'm learning, but I'm afraid there would be an explosion of grey matter all over the computer screen. Just too much to boil it all down.

Role of Women in the Church: I'm writing a paper about this and must admit I approached this topic with an anti-Paul sway based on what I, at the time, believed to be godly teaching. I think, if I could boil this one down to a statement, is that Jesus personally commanded each one of us to love one another. I believe that where we started having "issues" or "problems" is where our sinful human element took over and started trying to figure things out or get things organized. Do we as humans need structure and organization? Basically, yes. Do groups get priority in the pecking order? Eventually. Did God intend this? Well, dear Readers, I believe my answer to that is now no. (Ducks for cover before the tomatoes pop me upside the head...) Honestly, I really don't know that we can say for sure. I can already hear arguments on both sides and see validity to them both. I don't see this question ever being answered to anyone's satisfaction this side of Paradise, guys.

Obama's Pre-Presidential Activities: Barack and Michelle met with George and Laura this morning at Quarters 1 to kinda "get the inside scoop." Apparently the women went off to do things like talk about how irritating it is when the guys drink beer, scratch themselves, fart, and watch football or something, whilst the menfolk had a history-making hoedown in the Oval Office. Seriously, folks, do you KNOW how many eggs I would've sold to have been a fly on THAT wall! No media were allowed to follow into the OO, and no aides were on hand, either. The words that were exchanged in that room are known only to them and to God. I can't even know whether to faint from terror or to faint from excitement.

One last point before I leave the topic of politics but under the "Obama" tag. I read an AP story and heard repeated on the news that the "Obama team" is reviewing the record of Bush's executive orders. According to the AP, one of the first things our President-Elect wants to do is reverse every one of Bush's EOs to try and undo all of the legislative marks GW has left on America. All I can say is: America, hold onto yer butts. It's gonna be an interesting ride...

Parenting: Having some significant issues these days with Bud. Not end-of-the-world, kicking-him-out-of-school issues, but ones that I just don't know how to handle. I feel completely inept to handle this, and I realize that parenting is mainly learn as you go kind of stuff and trusting God to give you guidance along the way. The BLUF here is that I see in Bud many of my characteristics. Many of my not-s0-good characteristics. I know which road they led me down at one point, and it grieves my spirit to think of that being in his future. I'm fervently praying that God will help his teachers and me to flip a switch in that little round head of his before he grows up to be an out of control teenager in a mean, viscious world. Or at least let me be dead before he ruins his life. (Just a joke, guys.) :)

Grief/Loss/That Whole Drama: Things have really been piling up here. I think, in particular, needing T. around to help me parent a son has been weighing heavily on me. To make it worse, I have had dreams so vivid I can still feel the softness of his lips or hear his mellow voice as I wake in the morning, and my reality comes crashing back down on me like an Acme anvil. With R. being there for me emotionally but not around physically to spend time with me or just take care of me, let me curl up in the crook of his strong shoulder and just weep, I have felt as though I would burst. 11/30 is just under three weeks away, and I'm already dreading it. Funny, it affects me differently every year. While the happiness and love in my relationship with R. is proof-positive that things in my life are moving on in a promising direction, the struggles of being a single parent, and how I became a single parent, really rain on that parade. I've read and re-read scripture about this, and it's not that I don't take comfort in that. It's just that scripture and God don't replace my loss. Plain and simple. Some days I just need to be sad without religion and salvation getting mixed in. While memories bring joy somedays, they feel like Chinese water torture on other days. November's just a hard month.

Looking for something positive? Well, that depends on your description of that. I've been accused of being a chronically negative person. OK. What's yer point?!? No really, I just have a very different way of seeing things. I see beauty in suffering, growth in change and painful times, and realize I must give my children up each day to God. I can't swing from the rafters with a smile on my face like some people. My way of being positive is to continue walking in the soupy fog, knowing that God will always provide a path for me to go down. And that's really enough for me.

R.I.P. U.S.A.

2008-11-04T22:39:00.002-06:00

I could just spontaneously combust. Can't even know where we'll go from here. But hey! We made history didn't we...

I promise: no political blogging until I have something nice to say about Osama, I mean, Obama. So it may be a while...

Tim Russert, Where Have You Gone???

2008-11-04T18:17:00.005-06:00

American politics and elections just aren't the same anymore without Tim Russert and his famous dry erase board. Rarely ever have I seen someone so excited about democracy in action. Regardless of who won or lost, Tim always had a way of electrifying the watching, waiting nation.

On this election eve, as I channel surf between the various networks awaiting word for preliminary results, I can hardly pay attention to the evening routine around the house. Even though I know that this election is almost at an end, I'm terribly apprehensive. Who will lead us for the next four years? Will our Democratic Congress actually get anything of real value done in this country, or will it act like a group of unruly toddlers, making us all wish they'd find a sippy cup to shut them up? How will this next president handle the lives of our soldiers? Will they be put at risk as a result of this election? Will Osama Bin Laden be rejoicing that America made a foolish decision and is lifting her proverbial skirt and flashing her immaturity to the world? Or will he feel like he's hitting a wall of resolute, unyielding steel because we have chosen a strong, aggressive president who will restore honor to the Colors once again?

I hate this feeling of malaise and flippance in my heart tonight. I voted early, so I know I took part of the process. But when I see so many people, good people, intelligent people, people I love and respect, feeling so strongly about someone that I do not support, it makes me wonder either what am I missing or what are they missing. I think about how Gore would've handled 9/11 had he won the electoral vote, and I have to force myself not to vomit and wretch at the thought. Anyone who even jokes about having invented the Internet ought to be on medication to keep the arterial flow going, not running for political office, but hey -- that's just me.

No matter who wins, I'm for one glad that this four year-long ordeal is over. I'm tired of hearing the names, watching debates, hearing people warp the truth and bend it to meet their agendas. I'm even tired of hearing people do that to Scripture, and even more so when it comes to politics. I would love to give a hard slap to people in the media who no longer report news but personal opinion. And I'm sorry if lots of you like to watch, "The View," but I'm ready to not have to hear about those nagging harpies pouncing like greasy vultures on the carcass of some unsuspecting guest who has been invited to be interviewed, not dissected. And Oprah can take a hike while we're at it, too! I've simply grown weary of being told what to think and why to think it by people whose income tax return is larger than the amount of money I take in all year. And when they violate the trust of the public they claim to serve, well, in my opinion they've reached an all-time low. Was state-run media in Communist Russia any different? Not really -- just on the other end of the spectrum.

OK. Am I negative tonight? Yes. Am I tired of things being the way they are in America? Yes. Am I hoping for a miracle in this election? Yes. Am I praying that the Holy Spirit will work on the hearts of all people in our country? Yes. Am I praying that God will soften my heart to have a shred of respect for whomever will lead this country next? HECK yes. Am I praying that God will be the One at the helm of this nation, to guide and protect all its leaders and citizens? Absolutely. At least if Tim Russert were here, maybe some of his enthusiasm would rub off on me.

"UBI LIBERTAS IBI PATRIA" ("Where liberty dwells, there is my country.") -- Benjamin Franklin

Get Out There And...

2008-11-04T07:18:00.003-06:00

Doesn't matter how you vote -- just get out there and DO IT! As the saying goes, if you don't participate, you lose the right to bloviate. Translated: if you don't vote, you lose the right to complain!

All kidding aside, I think, despite what some Lib friends of mine say, that this race will be the closest one yet. I think I have a good idea of who will win, and it honestly makes me highly concerned for the future of our soldiers and our economy. I don't trust this individual or the running mate chosen, and I can only imagine what our country will look like a year from now if this person wins. On the other hand, I'm not particularly convinced that the team running on the other side of the ticket are the individuals for the job either. Until we, the Voters, take back our country and demand real leadership, as I've said time and again, we get the candidates we deserve. I just pray that God will have a hand in all this today and in the outcome of our democratic exercise. We shall see...

"May the nations be glad and sing for joy, for you rule the peoples justly and guide the nations of the earth." --Psalm 67:4

Even so, LORD, guide our nation.

I Heart Joe(y) McIntyre

2008-10-28T16:29:00.003-05:00

Please, ladies, we're all grown ups here. Please refrain from getting out your old BOP posters and throwing your panties at the computer screen. Really. So juvenile.

My friend recently went to this concert and I'm SOOOOO insanely jealous! I will say, however, that she redeemed herself:

I nearly peed in Cracker Barrell this morning at breakfast upon receiving this birthday gift!

I swear, this whole day has been full of flash backs. Birthdays are among some of the logical days in one's life to look back and reflect on days and years gone by. Ten years ago today I was more than likely celebrating my 22nd birthday with T. down at Texas A&M where we went to college together. Less than a month later Aggie Bonfire would collapse upon 12 fellow students and change our lives and the traditions of our dear school forever. Twenty years ago today I was turning 12 and trying to figure out who I was, being in the 6th grade at Travis Middle School. I looked up to those big 8th grade girls and their tidal wave bangs, thinking there was no way I would ever look that cool. The bathrooms constantly smelled of Aquanet hairspray, and we begged our parents to let us carry Esprit purses filled with fruity lip gloss, a myriad of pens and pencils, and sacred feminine supplies that most of us wouldn't need for another three or four years. Our lives were filled with cute, scrawny boys in ill-fitting football uniforms, side pony tails, longing to be popular and have a boyfriend, passing notes, and pouring over copies of BOP magazine to gaze adoringly into the eyes of our future husbands, for me, it was baby-faced Joey McIntyre of the New Kids On The Block. Oh, heavenly days! Would it be possible to find a boy that could ever pour out his heart to me to the words of this song? How I pined to slow dance forever in the arms of my Boston boy!

At any rate, just wanted you all to flash back with me. And hey, if the next time I see you all and one of you is wearing your jeans rolled up to proudly display your colored slouch socks and your t-shirt tied off to one side, I totally won't judge you. :)

Poems, Prayers, And Promises

2008-10-28T13:42:00.007-05:00

There are so many thoughts floating around in my head today. I have been showered with love and blessings from my children, R., friends old and new, and family alike. My heart overflows with gratitude to my gracious heavenly Father and to all of you who have wished me well. You are all the example of grace to me -- a gift that I cannot deserve.

I've had a good time flashing back today. Between the silly photographs, the New Kids On The Block CD that my friend, "Marily Considine-McIntyre", gave me, and the wishes from people I haven't talked to in a good twenty years, I cannot help but thank God that he allowed me the chance to be here, in his kingdom on earth. The journey has been beautiful, excruciating, confusing, exhilarating. I think year 32 will be the best one yet.

If I died tomorrow and you all wondered what I would have to say reflecting back on my life, I can think of no better way than to sum it than John Denver did in one of my most favorite of his songs, which I leave you with now, "Poems, Prayers, and Promises." Enjoy that as you flip through the album below...

"Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go." --Joshua 1:9