My son is dang cute. He is also 13, and this means that girls call him sometimes. This is completely unacceptable. If you have daughters, please take this moment to enlighten them: it is not okay to call boys.
M is going to lose his phone if they keep calling. I feel that strongly about it. Since he is 13, and quite old enough for a discussion on the matter, I took a bit of time to consider the question of "Why," so that I could help him to understand the reason that I am so incredibly primeval on this matter.
1. Men need to be the instigator of a relationship. This is a privilege as well as a responsibility. Ever since Adam and that whole fruit issue, men seem to be content to allow women to take the lead. However, this is not God's design. My son needs to think carefully about which relationships he wants, and what those need to look like. I do not want him pulled along by some enthusiastic female, while he resigns himself to some default setting.
2. Women move way faster than men. You know what I'm talking about! Girls don't want to sit by the phone, they want to get on with planning their lives together, naming their future children, planning their wedding. My boy may like some girl, but he will go days without calling her. She, on the other hand, will call 47 times in an hour.
3. Girls want to suck these boys in. Her best friend will call and tell him to ask the girl out, to go steady, or whatever they call it. It's a game of entrapment. On his own, my boy will like a girl, and be perfectly happy to like her without ever moving the relationship forward. When he's older, then he'll move a relationship where he wants it to go, but he needs to be the one taking responsibility for that.
This quickly becomes a dangerous game, even for the young teens. These girls are educated in relationships by unfathomable crap on TV and movies. They see women as sexual temptresses who get a man by seduction. Girls do not learn virtue on TV. They do not learn modesty. Heck, they don't even learn to be strong and beautiful. What they learn is to be manipulative, and to capitalize on the weaknesses of men.
I'm sure not all girls are like this, that's not what I'm saying. But many are.
My boys face this mindset from too many girls. Your boys do, too.
Somehow, we must equip them to recognize the errors and to fight for truth.
One of the mantras my boys have been raised with is "protect her modesty, even if she will not protect herself." I hope they'll remember that when the going gets tough.
I want these boys to be men of honor.
I want them to recognize why women are acting the way that they are; the approval they are seeking through such wrong avenues.
And I want them to be men of action who protect the girls around them.
...whew. Apparently, I have some strong feelings there, eh? I have such a close-up view on what makes a boy tick, that all this stuff seems very important. Parenting boys is hard work!
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Monday, July 28, 2008
My heart on my sleeve
We just wrapped up the book of Joshua in house church. Joshua issues a warning about the need to obey God fully, and in so doing, he talks about God as jealous and wrathful. I was struck by the emotion of that. It seemed to me such a human thing from the God of Creation.
Then I thought that I may, in fact, be looking at it backwards. Perhaps the emotional stuff is not human on His part at all. Perhaps emotional stuff is more divine than human. The fact that I feel so deeply could be one of the ways that I am made in the image of God.
So often I view emotion as evidence of weakness. This must not be the case. Vulnerability, to be sure, but that can't be necessarily a bad thing. I do have a particular gift for taking my emotions to a sinful degree. That's unfortunate!
I wonder if I need to approach my emotions as more of a beautiful, godly, quality that can be shared to display His Glory?
Then I thought that I may, in fact, be looking at it backwards. Perhaps the emotional stuff is not human on His part at all. Perhaps emotional stuff is more divine than human. The fact that I feel so deeply could be one of the ways that I am made in the image of God.
So often I view emotion as evidence of weakness. This must not be the case. Vulnerability, to be sure, but that can't be necessarily a bad thing. I do have a particular gift for taking my emotions to a sinful degree. That's unfortunate!
I wonder if I need to approach my emotions as more of a beautiful, godly, quality that can be shared to display His Glory?
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Lazy Evangelism
Let me climb up here on this soapbox and tell ya something.
I heard a sermon today about evangelism that went something like this:
"We should tell people about the gospel, have them pray the 'sinner's prayer,' and be real happy that we're fulfilling the Great Commission."
I was annoyed.
The "sinner's prayer" is not in Scripture, folks. Are we all aware of this?
I do not get to have a notch in my spiritual belt for having you repeat some rote incantation. This is not the Great Commission.
The Great Commission says to "Go ye into all the world....making disciples of all the nations." Making disciples is a process requiring a great investment of time and effort. It demands relationship and an investment that can't easily be counterfeited. Asking someone to pray a little prayer is so easy. I know so many people who have prayed a sort of salvation prayer whose lives are not changed at all. Our lives are shaped and defined by those things that we believe to be true. You can't have a change of your entire belief system, without a radical change in how you live your life.
If you come to realize that you are in desperate need of God, that you are a hopeless sinner with no redeeming qualities worthy of this God,
and the understanding that Jesus is handing you a chance to be made whole and new, with access to the very throne of Heaven
Then your life will reflect that!
If I say that being a mother is the most important job I can ever do, and that raising my children is my number one priority....but I put them in daycare and go to work all day, then hang out with my social circle all evening, you can tell by looking that I don't really believe what I say I believe. There's a major disconnect.
If I pray some "sinner's prayer" and go along unchanged, than I am not a disciple of Jesus Christ.
What I am saying here, people, is that saying a prayer doesn't mean salvation. A real, life altering shift in your entire belief system can mean salvation.
This has a dramatic impact on evangelism. It has to.
You and I tell others what we've seen God do, and change, in our own lives. Then we let God do the converting part. When someone wants to know how they can have the kind of relationship we have with the God of Creation, our discipleship is a coming-alongside of that person to teach them how to follow Jesus. We are teaching them to be disciples of Jesus.
You don't get brownie points for making someone repeat a prayer. You can expand the Kingdom of Heaven by speaking truth and investing in the people God is at work in.
Whew.
That's my sermon de jour.
I'll step off of the soapbox now.
I heard a sermon today about evangelism that went something like this:
"We should tell people about the gospel, have them pray the 'sinner's prayer,' and be real happy that we're fulfilling the Great Commission."
I was annoyed.
The "sinner's prayer" is not in Scripture, folks. Are we all aware of this?
I do not get to have a notch in my spiritual belt for having you repeat some rote incantation. This is not the Great Commission.
The Great Commission says to "Go ye into all the world....making disciples of all the nations." Making disciples is a process requiring a great investment of time and effort. It demands relationship and an investment that can't easily be counterfeited. Asking someone to pray a little prayer is so easy. I know so many people who have prayed a sort of salvation prayer whose lives are not changed at all. Our lives are shaped and defined by those things that we believe to be true. You can't have a change of your entire belief system, without a radical change in how you live your life.
If you come to realize that you are in desperate need of God, that you are a hopeless sinner with no redeeming qualities worthy of this God,
and the understanding that Jesus is handing you a chance to be made whole and new, with access to the very throne of Heaven
Then your life will reflect that!
If I say that being a mother is the most important job I can ever do, and that raising my children is my number one priority....but I put them in daycare and go to work all day, then hang out with my social circle all evening, you can tell by looking that I don't really believe what I say I believe. There's a major disconnect.
If I pray some "sinner's prayer" and go along unchanged, than I am not a disciple of Jesus Christ.
What I am saying here, people, is that saying a prayer doesn't mean salvation. A real, life altering shift in your entire belief system can mean salvation.
This has a dramatic impact on evangelism. It has to.
You and I tell others what we've seen God do, and change, in our own lives. Then we let God do the converting part. When someone wants to know how they can have the kind of relationship we have with the God of Creation, our discipleship is a coming-alongside of that person to teach them how to follow Jesus. We are teaching them to be disciples of Jesus.
You don't get brownie points for making someone repeat a prayer. You can expand the Kingdom of Heaven by speaking truth and investing in the people God is at work in.
Whew.
That's my sermon de jour.
I'll step off of the soapbox now.
Friday, July 25, 2008
I. Me. Myself.
I am a machine of productivity.
There was a wonderful garage sale due to begin this morning at 8. I was there early with Americano Coffee in hand. I spent 9$ on books.
I picked apricots. Lots of apricots.
I made 3 dozen jars of jam. And yet there are still more apricots.
I ran to the bank, did laundry, and cleaned a messy kitchen. More than once.
I took my kiddo and his buddy out to Eagle Island.
I also blogged.
In short, I did everything humanly possible, short of bathing today. And who really needs to bathe? That would be me.
But enough about me.
How many books do you read at one time?
One?
Or several?
I am reading a lazy book about life in France.
An intellectual book about the founding fathers.
An English novel about an over-privileged teenager.
A long winded essay by a long-dead theologian.
And my bible.
I would read all day long if I could. Sometimes I keep an open book in the car so I can read at red lights and stop signs. Is that bad?
Now I am going off to bed to read some more. I'd love your book recommendations, though.
There was a wonderful garage sale due to begin this morning at 8. I was there early with Americano Coffee in hand. I spent 9$ on books.
I picked apricots. Lots of apricots.
I made 3 dozen jars of jam. And yet there are still more apricots.
I ran to the bank, did laundry, and cleaned a messy kitchen. More than once.
I took my kiddo and his buddy out to Eagle Island.
I also blogged.
In short, I did everything humanly possible, short of bathing today. And who really needs to bathe? That would be me.
But enough about me.
How many books do you read at one time?
One?
Or several?
I am reading a lazy book about life in France.
An intellectual book about the founding fathers.
An English novel about an over-privileged teenager.
A long winded essay by a long-dead theologian.
And my bible.
I would read all day long if I could. Sometimes I keep an open book in the car so I can read at red lights and stop signs. Is that bad?
Now I am going off to bed to read some more. I'd love your book recommendations, though.
Who is a domestic godess?
Has this ever happened to you?
You sit down and write a blog for the first time all day, and find that you have talked about someone else...then, you find out that what you wrote was something you weren't supposed to...then, the person who told you gets anxious? Has that ever happened? I hope not. When that happens, then you have to take down the blog post. I hate that when that happens.
Today I picked apricots at my friend Kris's house. This afternoon I have managed to make 1/3 of them into jam. Not 1/3 of each apricot, but rather 1/3 of the total allotment. Oh, dear. We are going to have apricot jam coming out of our ears. Which? Where did that saying come from, "out of our ears?" Nothing should ever come out of your ears. Unless you get an earwig from all the apricots. In which case, you'll hope it comes out.
But, now I am rambling.
I need to run back up to Albertsons for the 85th time today to get more canning junk. Then I am back to it. I think I'm going crazy from the apricot fumes. Or the pectin. Or, perhaps the earwigs.
You sit down and write a blog for the first time all day, and find that you have talked about someone else...then, you find out that what you wrote was something you weren't supposed to...then, the person who told you gets anxious? Has that ever happened? I hope not. When that happens, then you have to take down the blog post. I hate that when that happens.
Today I picked apricots at my friend Kris's house. This afternoon I have managed to make 1/3 of them into jam. Not 1/3 of each apricot, but rather 1/3 of the total allotment. Oh, dear. We are going to have apricot jam coming out of our ears. Which? Where did that saying come from, "out of our ears?" Nothing should ever come out of your ears. Unless you get an earwig from all the apricots. In which case, you'll hope it comes out.
But, now I am rambling.
I need to run back up to Albertsons for the 85th time today to get more canning junk. Then I am back to it. I think I'm going crazy from the apricot fumes. Or the pectin. Or, perhaps the earwigs.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Very little to report; and also an Award
I slept in this morning until 10:30. The children checked on me a couple of times, but they fended for themselves. Love them for that. Apparently, I needed that sleep really bad.
Sleep has a glorious restorative effect. Who knew my tension level would decrease so?
I ate breakfast at noon. Glorious, I tell you.
Robin the Redhead gave me an award which is prominately displayed now on this blog. I am not sure why she gave it to me, but I'm really excited about it nonetheless. Have you read her stuff about Romania? Her link is in the margin over there somewhere ---> Thank you for honoring my humble blog, Robin!
I still don't know how to put a link in my text. Will someone tell me how to do that?
The boys and I went to the shooting range last night, and I was coerced into firing the shotgun. Last year when I did that, I had a very impressive bruise on my shoulder. Last night I was a terrible shot, but I seem to have gotten by without marring my self.
There is nothing remotely interesting to tell you about. Isn't that wonderful?
I'll see what drama I can conjur up, and I'll write you more later. How will that be?
My advice for the day is to take a nap, friends. It's a beautiful thing, sleep.
Sleep has a glorious restorative effect. Who knew my tension level would decrease so?
I ate breakfast at noon. Glorious, I tell you.
Robin the Redhead gave me an award which is prominately displayed now on this blog. I am not sure why she gave it to me, but I'm really excited about it nonetheless. Have you read her stuff about Romania? Her link is in the margin over there somewhere ---> Thank you for honoring my humble blog, Robin!
I still don't know how to put a link in my text. Will someone tell me how to do that?
The boys and I went to the shooting range last night, and I was coerced into firing the shotgun. Last year when I did that, I had a very impressive bruise on my shoulder. Last night I was a terrible shot, but I seem to have gotten by without marring my self.
There is nothing remotely interesting to tell you about. Isn't that wonderful?
I'll see what drama I can conjur up, and I'll write you more later. How will that be?
My advice for the day is to take a nap, friends. It's a beautiful thing, sleep.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Sanguine/ Melancholy
This makes my 4th posting of the day. Someone needs to put the keyboard away.
Actually, I've been quite productive lately.
I washed all of the lace curtains in my home. Which is to say, all of my curtains.
I washed and ironed all the doilies. And there are no small number. Who decorates like Granny?
I scrubbed, with a toothbrush, the perimeter of my floor. Did you realize that the juncture, where floor meets floorboard, gets quite nasty? That is gross. No one will ever know I cleaned that but you and me.
I cleaned my carpet. Which is a misnomer, because the carpet is no closer to clean than it was before I began. What I did was disinfect the carpet. That thing is stained more deeply than my hair color.
So, all this antsy energy is being put to good use. That's a relief.
It's still annoying, this funk of mine. I'm all over the board on the inside.
I'm fragmented, unfocused.
I was talking to God about it. He was recalling to my mind that though I feel agitated and restless, that isn't always the case with me. He was pointing out a farther reaching pattern. There is a consistency of determination where it matters most.
This unpleasant emotion, (if emotion is what it is), is only temporary.
There is a pattern of peace in my life. God has under girded me with some supernatural fibre that forms a foundation. He has held me quite steady, despite my erratic Sanguine self. He has furnished me with a passionate sense of purpose which has breached all boundaries of situation and emotion.
I think this is part of His Great Mystery. That bit about His Peace that surpasses comprehension? I think I can see that. This funk I'm in sucks. But I peer back through my history and see that there is a Great Grace at work. That Unchangeable-ness is not from me, so it is not affected by me. I can be calm, and allow the storms of life, even when they assault me from within myself, because He steadies me.
And Praise God for that. On my own, I'm psychotic.
Actually, I've been quite productive lately.
I washed all of the lace curtains in my home. Which is to say, all of my curtains.
I washed and ironed all the doilies. And there are no small number. Who decorates like Granny?
I scrubbed, with a toothbrush, the perimeter of my floor. Did you realize that the juncture, where floor meets floorboard, gets quite nasty? That is gross. No one will ever know I cleaned that but you and me.
I cleaned my carpet. Which is a misnomer, because the carpet is no closer to clean than it was before I began. What I did was disinfect the carpet. That thing is stained more deeply than my hair color.
So, all this antsy energy is being put to good use. That's a relief.
It's still annoying, this funk of mine. I'm all over the board on the inside.
I'm fragmented, unfocused.
I was talking to God about it. He was recalling to my mind that though I feel agitated and restless, that isn't always the case with me. He was pointing out a farther reaching pattern. There is a consistency of determination where it matters most.
This unpleasant emotion, (if emotion is what it is), is only temporary.
There is a pattern of peace in my life. God has under girded me with some supernatural fibre that forms a foundation. He has held me quite steady, despite my erratic Sanguine self. He has furnished me with a passionate sense of purpose which has breached all boundaries of situation and emotion.
I think this is part of His Great Mystery. That bit about His Peace that surpasses comprehension? I think I can see that. This funk I'm in sucks. But I peer back through my history and see that there is a Great Grace at work. That Unchangeable-ness is not from me, so it is not affected by me. I can be calm, and allow the storms of life, even when they assault me from within myself, because He steadies me.
And Praise God for that. On my own, I'm psychotic.
Well, that explains a lot
Men See You As: A Difficult Challenge |
 You must be an incredible hottie... Because it's the only way you can pull of the ice queen act You're the type of woman that men love to chase But if you don't stop running, you'll never get caught! |
A Quiz thingy
What Your Pizza Reveals |
 You have a hearty appetite. You are likely to complain if a restaurant has small portions. You consider pizza to be bread... very good bread. You fit in best in the Midwest part of the US. Your taste in food tends to favor what's rich and comforting. You prefer food that will definitely satisfy you. You are eclectic, stylish, and totally random with your choices. You have many conflicting and complementary layers to your personality. You should consider traveling to Australia. The stereotype that best fits you is upper class preppy. You don't anything too ordinary or vulgar. |
A summer storm
We had a deluge today. It rained for about 10 minutes, but it rained a lot. The boys danced around in the backyard as it rained, and then realized that the streets in the front yard were completely flooded.
Crazy weather.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Saturday, July 19, 2008
On the subject of Time
Where do you spend your time; the past, the present, or the future?
This was a question put to the main character from The Shack. I'm still thinking about that book. Have you read it yet?
My mind is spent most often in the Future. I am always getting ahead of myself. Either I am wishing for the future, or worrying about it. I am ever missing out on the moment, because of straining ahead to uncertainty.
One of my friends indicated that she gets stuck in her past. This had not really occurred to me as an option. My past is fascinating, and I enjoy the stories, but I don't ever feel like dwelling there. I can see how the past could hold one captive, though. It's a strong restraint.
Neither of those options is productive, really. We ought to be living fully in the present. The past is already set in stone, and the future is an indefinite fog. Exerting our force in either area is a waste of energy, which depletes and distracts us.
It's like wresting with Granite, or wrestling with Mist.
Both scenarios have me fighting against something that doesn't fight back. It's a lonely battle, and quite silly.
But to engage today!
This moment is a viable reality. My energy applied here can make an impact which resounds through the ages, past and present! Yesterday's regrets can be transformed into powerful motivators, and dynamic tools. Tomorrow's possibilities can help focus my choices and determination.
The Granite becomes a monument to beauty. You see, even those painful regrets become an alter on which we can sacrifice our failure to the One Who spins all into His Ultimate Plan. Your regret is not your shame, it is your very effectiveness.
The Mist becomes Brigadoon, a wonderland beyond your wildest dreams. Those indefinite fears dissipate, as the Master Storyteller reveals your tomorrows in His Own Timeline. When today is fully embraced, tomorrow is a natural spinning out of it. My choices today, have everything to do with who I will be tomorrow.
I shall remember yesterday,
so that I can apply what I've leaned, to be more effective today,
so My tomorrow will be all the more submitted
to He Who Holds the Ages in the Palm of His Hand.
Amen?
This was a question put to the main character from The Shack. I'm still thinking about that book. Have you read it yet?
My mind is spent most often in the Future. I am always getting ahead of myself. Either I am wishing for the future, or worrying about it. I am ever missing out on the moment, because of straining ahead to uncertainty.
One of my friends indicated that she gets stuck in her past. This had not really occurred to me as an option. My past is fascinating, and I enjoy the stories, but I don't ever feel like dwelling there. I can see how the past could hold one captive, though. It's a strong restraint.
Neither of those options is productive, really. We ought to be living fully in the present. The past is already set in stone, and the future is an indefinite fog. Exerting our force in either area is a waste of energy, which depletes and distracts us.
It's like wresting with Granite, or wrestling with Mist.
Both scenarios have me fighting against something that doesn't fight back. It's a lonely battle, and quite silly.
But to engage today!
This moment is a viable reality. My energy applied here can make an impact which resounds through the ages, past and present! Yesterday's regrets can be transformed into powerful motivators, and dynamic tools. Tomorrow's possibilities can help focus my choices and determination.
The Granite becomes a monument to beauty. You see, even those painful regrets become an alter on which we can sacrifice our failure to the One Who spins all into His Ultimate Plan. Your regret is not your shame, it is your very effectiveness.
The Mist becomes Brigadoon, a wonderland beyond your wildest dreams. Those indefinite fears dissipate, as the Master Storyteller reveals your tomorrows in His Own Timeline. When today is fully embraced, tomorrow is a natural spinning out of it. My choices today, have everything to do with who I will be tomorrow.
I shall remember yesterday,
so that I can apply what I've leaned, to be more effective today,
so My tomorrow will be all the more submitted
to He Who Holds the Ages in the Palm of His Hand.
Amen?
Thursday, July 17, 2008
In which thanks is given
Today was not bad, as days go.
I've been reading in the Psalms, because they seem to suit my erratic mood of late. I can't seem to concentrate on major points of doctrine, but "God is with me" I can handle. Funny how even a spiritual life can ebb and flow. Is nothing safe from the ravages of the female hormones?
I was talking to God this morning about the state of my finances, which are similar to my love life, in that both are absent entirely.
I've heard people talk about how God answers prayers in the 11th hour. This has never been my experience. As I see it, God waits until way past the 11th hour, until I'm good and desperate, then He sweeps in for the rescue. It's quite romantic, really.
The Psalms are full of this idea. Where the author cries out, "How long, O Lord? Wilt Thou forget me forever?" Already he feels forgotten, and apparently has for some time.
A friend called out of the blue today with a job opportunity that could be such a huge answer to prayer for me. (Pray please!) Then she asked if my bills are paid. "Which ones are not?" She asked. Then she arranged for them to be paid. The rest due this month are manageable with my expected income.
So there it was, an answer to prayer, and a buffeting of my stalwart pride. Quite an efficient working of God, no?
I am so thankful.
I've been reading in the Psalms, because they seem to suit my erratic mood of late. I can't seem to concentrate on major points of doctrine, but "God is with me" I can handle. Funny how even a spiritual life can ebb and flow. Is nothing safe from the ravages of the female hormones?
I was talking to God this morning about the state of my finances, which are similar to my love life, in that both are absent entirely.
I've heard people talk about how God answers prayers in the 11th hour. This has never been my experience. As I see it, God waits until way past the 11th hour, until I'm good and desperate, then He sweeps in for the rescue. It's quite romantic, really.
The Psalms are full of this idea. Where the author cries out, "How long, O Lord? Wilt Thou forget me forever?" Already he feels forgotten, and apparently has for some time.
A friend called out of the blue today with a job opportunity that could be such a huge answer to prayer for me. (Pray please!) Then she asked if my bills are paid. "Which ones are not?" She asked. Then she arranged for them to be paid. The rest due this month are manageable with my expected income.
So there it was, an answer to prayer, and a buffeting of my stalwart pride. Quite an efficient working of God, no?
I am so thankful.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
It Takes a Village
Given my recent mood, the following complaints should not be unexpected.
I went to one of those governmental classes designed to improve the level of childcare in these great United States. It was a long and tedious class, attended by numerous detailed forms (in triplicate). This class was also attended by a shocking array of the lesser-educated strata of society. Myself included. My, but we are a motley group.
These are the day care providers for America's Youth.
Be afraid. Be very afraid.
If you have a spouse who provides enough income that you are able to be home with your children, go kiss that person immediately. If you have a spouse who is staying home to parent your children, you need to be buying them expensive gifts. And also, go kiss them.
Day care is a bad place for children. I say this with all my heart.
This is a large part of the reason that I watch other people's children. It allows me to keep my children from the dangers of institutionalization (which I spelled correctly without spellcheck!) It also allows me to save a few other children from that monster. It's like Kelly's List. The ones plucked from the flames.
I never wanted to be a day care person, when I grew up. I wanted to be a Broadway actress, an antiquities professor, or a Japanese Cheerleader for Stanford.....but never a babysitter.
Except, I love kids. Especially my own.
At this class, they were talking about incentives for continuing education in early childhood development. It's possible that I would weep if forced to sit through those classes. Kids in theory are boring. Kids in real life are fantastic.
I sat there, eyes glazed over, at a crossroads of my adult life. I'm pushing 40, PMSing, and I have become a page from Hillary Clinton's parenting manual.
Which got me to giggling.... once I got over the utter despondency.
So, giggling was an improvement, even if it was wry, and dripping with sarcasm.
I went to one of those governmental classes designed to improve the level of childcare in these great United States. It was a long and tedious class, attended by numerous detailed forms (in triplicate). This class was also attended by a shocking array of the lesser-educated strata of society. Myself included. My, but we are a motley group.
These are the day care providers for America's Youth.
Be afraid. Be very afraid.
If you have a spouse who provides enough income that you are able to be home with your children, go kiss that person immediately. If you have a spouse who is staying home to parent your children, you need to be buying them expensive gifts. And also, go kiss them.
Day care is a bad place for children. I say this with all my heart.
This is a large part of the reason that I watch other people's children. It allows me to keep my children from the dangers of institutionalization (which I spelled correctly without spellcheck!) It also allows me to save a few other children from that monster. It's like Kelly's List. The ones plucked from the flames.
I never wanted to be a day care person, when I grew up. I wanted to be a Broadway actress, an antiquities professor, or a Japanese Cheerleader for Stanford.....but never a babysitter.
Except, I love kids. Especially my own.
At this class, they were talking about incentives for continuing education in early childhood development. It's possible that I would weep if forced to sit through those classes. Kids in theory are boring. Kids in real life are fantastic.
I sat there, eyes glazed over, at a crossroads of my adult life. I'm pushing 40, PMSing, and I have become a page from Hillary Clinton's parenting manual.
Which got me to giggling.... once I got over the utter despondency.
So, giggling was an improvement, even if it was wry, and dripping with sarcasm.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
The Dark Side
Pour yourself a glass of wine. Or coffee, depending upon the time of day. I'll tell you all you ever wanted to know about the wanderings of my limited intellect.
My beautiful cousin, Geneva, is in town from Australia, and we had dinner tonight at my house. In attendance were my sisters, and nieces. Don't you wonder why I didn't bother to take photos? I am something of a mystery, even to myself.
It was an eating extravaganza. I did the dinner, but Geneva brought dessert. There was an assortment of cheesecake, and these delectable ginger cookies. They went straight to my hips to join the chocolate ice cream that I ate earlier today. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, I can hear Chuck's voice saying, "Two words, darlin...'salad bar.'"
Besides the noble quest for calories, my mind has been focused on very little. I have been reading my bible, in the sense that my eyes scan the words, but I'll have to read the same thing several times to get any meaning. I have been reading my novels in the same sort of way. No music really seems to hit the spot. I'm sort of restless and agitated. My jokes are disjointed, and I laugh too loud. My words are harsh, and my energy fractured. I don't like myself much like this.
Writing is difficult because all I have to say comes out as morose, or scathing. So, I figured I'd just go ahead and tell you what's going on in my head.
It's best to tackle only the most superficial contemplations in such a mindset. Anything too terribly deep leaves me tired and sad. Come to think of it, sleep is probably a wise course of action.
On that note, I shall bid you a very fond adieu.
G'nite.
My beautiful cousin, Geneva, is in town from Australia, and we had dinner tonight at my house. In attendance were my sisters, and nieces. Don't you wonder why I didn't bother to take photos? I am something of a mystery, even to myself.
It was an eating extravaganza. I did the dinner, but Geneva brought dessert. There was an assortment of cheesecake, and these delectable ginger cookies. They went straight to my hips to join the chocolate ice cream that I ate earlier today. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, I can hear Chuck's voice saying, "Two words, darlin...'salad bar.'"
Besides the noble quest for calories, my mind has been focused on very little. I have been reading my bible, in the sense that my eyes scan the words, but I'll have to read the same thing several times to get any meaning. I have been reading my novels in the same sort of way. No music really seems to hit the spot. I'm sort of restless and agitated. My jokes are disjointed, and I laugh too loud. My words are harsh, and my energy fractured. I don't like myself much like this.
Writing is difficult because all I have to say comes out as morose, or scathing. So, I figured I'd just go ahead and tell you what's going on in my head.
It's best to tackle only the most superficial contemplations in such a mindset. Anything too terribly deep leaves me tired and sad. Come to think of it, sleep is probably a wise course of action.
On that note, I shall bid you a very fond adieu.
G'nite.
Monday, July 14, 2008
It's a Noxema Emergency
I had dreadful acne when I was a teen. The kind where you don't look in a mirror, and your hair hangs over your face.
I went to the doctor, and was on alarming medication to make me suitable for the public. This medicine was so dangerous at the time, that regular blood draws were a part of the modus operandi...or however you spell it. It was pretty bad.
These days, I get an unsightly blemish from time to time. Usually predictably timed. Which is to say, cyclically. Nothing like announcing one's business, eh?
But, my body's latest trend seems to be this whole blemishes-on-the-neck thing. How pretty is that? Is it my hair product? My waves of golden tresses clogging the pores upon my neck? What? It's so very inelegant.
And what's to be done? Wear my hair up? Not right now.
Slather it with irritating, drying, teenage salves? Is that helpful at my age?
Ignore it and quit picking at it? Thanks, you sound like my mother.
Maybe I'll begin bathing regularly in red wine. That is a remedy that has some real potential!
But enough about me. How have you been? You've told me about your marriages. How about your acne. Anyone?
I went to the doctor, and was on alarming medication to make me suitable for the public. This medicine was so dangerous at the time, that regular blood draws were a part of the modus operandi...or however you spell it. It was pretty bad.
These days, I get an unsightly blemish from time to time. Usually predictably timed. Which is to say, cyclically. Nothing like announcing one's business, eh?
But, my body's latest trend seems to be this whole blemishes-on-the-neck thing. How pretty is that? Is it my hair product? My waves of golden tresses clogging the pores upon my neck? What? It's so very inelegant.
And what's to be done? Wear my hair up? Not right now.
Slather it with irritating, drying, teenage salves? Is that helpful at my age?
Ignore it and quit picking at it? Thanks, you sound like my mother.
Maybe I'll begin bathing regularly in red wine. That is a remedy that has some real potential!
But enough about me. How have you been? You've told me about your marriages. How about your acne. Anyone?
Sunday, July 13, 2008
An Uninspired list
1. Ice cream with chocolate sauce: Yesterday I had 2 bowls full, one right after the other. Today I only had one, since I ran out. It's possible that I shall grow quite large.
2.Yesterday I attacked my garage in a frenzy of righteous indignation. It is now so clean that the children have asked if they can sleep out there. I was tempted to say "Yes."
3. In the same swirl of homemaking activity, I painted my teenager's room a lovely grey color.
4. There is a growing pile of mismatched socks on the floor in my office. Perhaps there are some mates in there, I doubt any of us have looked closely enough to be sure. Something should be done about that.
5. My income doubled unexpectedly today. Praise God! I just knew God would do something to answer my prayers!
6. My face is breaking out. That observation, paired with my recent ice cream eating binge, should advise you of a melancholy week in my immediate future. Darn Eve.
7. House church begins in one hour and 10 minutes, and I have given exactly NO thought to what food I shall prepare to share. You can't rush these things.
8. I am reading Northanger Abbey, because Yvonne is. It is by Jane Austen, and it is wonderful. If I could go to bed and read for the next week, that would be so pleasant. Plus, my mood would be restrained to the four walls of my room. That would be best.
9. Today I am very happy being a single person, and I couldn't care less if I were never to marry again. I tell you that so you won't think I am always desperate and lonely. Sometimes I am desperate and un-lonely.
10.I am dying to get back to martial arts. There just something so wonderful about punching and kicking and weaponry that makes me deeply happy. I need to stop talking about getting back to martial arts, and just do it. Johanna, come move in with me and we'll go together, k?
2.Yesterday I attacked my garage in a frenzy of righteous indignation. It is now so clean that the children have asked if they can sleep out there. I was tempted to say "Yes."
3. In the same swirl of homemaking activity, I painted my teenager's room a lovely grey color.
4. There is a growing pile of mismatched socks on the floor in my office. Perhaps there are some mates in there, I doubt any of us have looked closely enough to be sure. Something should be done about that.
5. My income doubled unexpectedly today. Praise God! I just knew God would do something to answer my prayers!
6. My face is breaking out. That observation, paired with my recent ice cream eating binge, should advise you of a melancholy week in my immediate future. Darn Eve.
7. House church begins in one hour and 10 minutes, and I have given exactly NO thought to what food I shall prepare to share. You can't rush these things.
8. I am reading Northanger Abbey, because Yvonne is. It is by Jane Austen, and it is wonderful. If I could go to bed and read for the next week, that would be so pleasant. Plus, my mood would be restrained to the four walls of my room. That would be best.
9. Today I am very happy being a single person, and I couldn't care less if I were never to marry again. I tell you that so you won't think I am always desperate and lonely. Sometimes I am desperate and un-lonely.
10.I am dying to get back to martial arts. There just something so wonderful about punching and kicking and weaponry that makes me deeply happy. I need to stop talking about getting back to martial arts, and just do it. Johanna, come move in with me and we'll go together, k?
Saturday, July 12, 2008
wondering aloud
Does anyone out there have a really fantastic marriage?
I've been single, more or less, for a decade. There are some elements of married life that I would dearly love to have, but I'd rather be single forever than get into a bad marriage.
Is it possible to have a relationship between a man and a woman in which:
-they delight in meeting one another's needs?
-the two genuinely enjoy each other?
-there is profound mutual respect?
-the you-know-what is fabulous?
I know marriages where the spouses don't even like each other. Or, the physical aspect is a drudgery. In some, one partner doesn't even clue in that there's a fixable problem.
What a frightening prospect! Not that there are men lined up out my door with marriage proposals, you understand. I'm just speculating that if I had opportunity to marry, I'd be a little nervous. The odds are so against having a truly delightful experience.
Yet, this relationship was designed by God. He thought it was a good idea.
Doesn't that blow your mind?
Done His way, this should demonstrate such a beautiful picture of God's love for the church. This should be something so winsome, that observers learn about the love of God from what they see.
I know some marriages like that. They are rare, but powerful.
That's what I want, and nothing less. But how do you know at the outset?
I've been single, more or less, for a decade. There are some elements of married life that I would dearly love to have, but I'd rather be single forever than get into a bad marriage.
Is it possible to have a relationship between a man and a woman in which:
-they delight in meeting one another's needs?
-the two genuinely enjoy each other?
-there is profound mutual respect?
-the you-know-what is fabulous?
I know marriages where the spouses don't even like each other. Or, the physical aspect is a drudgery. In some, one partner doesn't even clue in that there's a fixable problem.
What a frightening prospect! Not that there are men lined up out my door with marriage proposals, you understand. I'm just speculating that if I had opportunity to marry, I'd be a little nervous. The odds are so against having a truly delightful experience.
Yet, this relationship was designed by God. He thought it was a good idea.
Doesn't that blow your mind?
Done His way, this should demonstrate such a beautiful picture of God's love for the church. This should be something so winsome, that observers learn about the love of God from what they see.
I know some marriages like that. They are rare, but powerful.
That's what I want, and nothing less. But how do you know at the outset?
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Name Dropping
Just yesterday, Yvonne had me over. To her house. Her Own, Personal house, where we sipped morning beverages, and nibbled on delectable pastries.
There I was, on her sun dappled patio, soaking in the radiance of her wisdom.
I am totally trying to impress you, you know. In that I was at her house.
If I told you, "Oh, Brad and Angelina were showing me the twins nursery just last week" I would be going for a similar effect. However, Yvonne is more worthy of honor than those two celebrities, even if she is somewhat less well-known.
Upon consideration, I might point out that I weaseled an invitation thru Kara. But, still.
As with any celebrity, I find that I am a bit star-struck. I wander about her presence saying really dumb things like, "Geez, Yvonne, You're swell." I like her house, and her hair, and her...you know...stuff.
She's the right sort to be in awe of. (Plus, also, she's reading this, so say hi to her.) She is a juxtaposition of humility and beauty. A woman who has suffered to the enrichment of her soul. She has been constant where others would have faltered. She is the moon, and Jesus is her Sun. I have bragged on her before, partly because I want her to see in writing the sentiments which sound so smarmy in speech. But partly because I want you to know something that is a lesson she can teach you even if you never meet her.
That lesson is this:
A life of faithfulness is built one decision at a time. She is a masterpiece of moments; of small issues submitted to God. She makes even the mundane a matter of conversation with God. "What do You want me to do now, My King?"
I want to be like her.
I love to watch her with her husband. He is a good man, but I get the idea that her love for him has little to do with that. She has an amazing marriage because she sees Jesus every time she looks at her man.
She is a great Mother. Her children are loved, I think, as an intricate offering for her God. And she has a couple of dynamic daughters! They carry the torch because of the example set by their momma. I am especially fond of Kara, you know.
Yvonne is a friend the likes of which you hope to be known by. I am known by her, awkward and silly as I am, and I am loved.
It's maybe not unlike Brad and Angelina's adopted orphans, in that her love for me is not at all earned, and I never go away empty handed. Yesterday, for instance, after giving me great servings of sweets to eat, and wisdom to think on; she and her husband loaded me down with meat for my freezer. She gives freely like that.
So there you go. Yvonne is my friend.
Who has ever met Brad and Angelina, anyway? For all I know, they don't even exist.
There I was, on her sun dappled patio, soaking in the radiance of her wisdom.
I am totally trying to impress you, you know. In that I was at her house.
If I told you, "Oh, Brad and Angelina were showing me the twins nursery just last week" I would be going for a similar effect. However, Yvonne is more worthy of honor than those two celebrities, even if she is somewhat less well-known.
Upon consideration, I might point out that I weaseled an invitation thru Kara. But, still.
As with any celebrity, I find that I am a bit star-struck. I wander about her presence saying really dumb things like, "Geez, Yvonne, You're swell." I like her house, and her hair, and her...you know...stuff.
She's the right sort to be in awe of. (Plus, also, she's reading this, so say hi to her.) She is a juxtaposition of humility and beauty. A woman who has suffered to the enrichment of her soul. She has been constant where others would have faltered. She is the moon, and Jesus is her Sun. I have bragged on her before, partly because I want her to see in writing the sentiments which sound so smarmy in speech. But partly because I want you to know something that is a lesson she can teach you even if you never meet her.
That lesson is this:
A life of faithfulness is built one decision at a time. She is a masterpiece of moments; of small issues submitted to God. She makes even the mundane a matter of conversation with God. "What do You want me to do now, My King?"
I want to be like her.
I love to watch her with her husband. He is a good man, but I get the idea that her love for him has little to do with that. She has an amazing marriage because she sees Jesus every time she looks at her man.
She is a great Mother. Her children are loved, I think, as an intricate offering for her God. And she has a couple of dynamic daughters! They carry the torch because of the example set by their momma. I am especially fond of Kara, you know.
Yvonne is a friend the likes of which you hope to be known by. I am known by her, awkward and silly as I am, and I am loved.
It's maybe not unlike Brad and Angelina's adopted orphans, in that her love for me is not at all earned, and I never go away empty handed. Yesterday, for instance, after giving me great servings of sweets to eat, and wisdom to think on; she and her husband loaded me down with meat for my freezer. She gives freely like that.
So there you go. Yvonne is my friend.
Who has ever met Brad and Angelina, anyway? For all I know, they don't even exist.
Wednesday, July 09, 2008
Hope springs eternal
Well, now, it's not as bad as all that. Why so downcast, oh my soul?
I got a phone call from a gal I used to work for. She asked if I am still doing child care, and if I had any openings. It's not income yet, but it certainly was encouraging. God can bring manna from the sky, He can provide the work I need. See? No update on our sick friend, but we'll pray and wait.
I saw Narnia again tonight at the dollar flicks. You know, since seeing it just last night wasn't enough. Prince Caspian is a hottie, and so is Edmund.
I love the movie. A lot. I want to marry it.
C.S.Lewis was a pretty smart fellow, if you ask me. Which I know you did not. But whatever.
I'm feeling feisty tonight, can you tell?
So there's this big lesson in the movie. The lesson is that believing in Aslan is the key to victory, waiting for Him is the only way to win. In this, Lucy is my hero. She is determined to wait for Him and follow Him. She really trusts Him, even when she can't see him. It's a whole God thing. Love that.
Outside of the movie theatre, I am back to being a regular person. The idea of fighting for Narnia, in a swirly skirt, appeals to me more. There's a disconnect within me between what goes on in my head and the externals. I believe we've discussed this. I notice it when I say blase things like, " ...fine fine, how are you?" when what I really mean is "It's dreadful! My heart is rent with all that is before me! What dangers are encompassing you?" Normal people get nervous when I talk like that. If only I were in Narnia! They would understand.
I got a phone call from a gal I used to work for. She asked if I am still doing child care, and if I had any openings. It's not income yet, but it certainly was encouraging. God can bring manna from the sky, He can provide the work I need. See? No update on our sick friend, but we'll pray and wait.
I saw Narnia again tonight at the dollar flicks. You know, since seeing it just last night wasn't enough. Prince Caspian is a hottie, and so is Edmund.
I love the movie. A lot. I want to marry it.
C.S.Lewis was a pretty smart fellow, if you ask me. Which I know you did not. But whatever.
I'm feeling feisty tonight, can you tell?
So there's this big lesson in the movie. The lesson is that believing in Aslan is the key to victory, waiting for Him is the only way to win. In this, Lucy is my hero. She is determined to wait for Him and follow Him. She really trusts Him, even when she can't see him. It's a whole God thing. Love that.
Outside of the movie theatre, I am back to being a regular person. The idea of fighting for Narnia, in a swirly skirt, appeals to me more. There's a disconnect within me between what goes on in my head and the externals. I believe we've discussed this. I notice it when I say blase things like, " ...fine fine, how are you?" when what I really mean is "It's dreadful! My heart is rent with all that is before me! What dangers are encompassing you?" Normal people get nervous when I talk like that. If only I were in Narnia! They would understand.
Tuesday, July 08, 2008
From bad to worse
Am I too old to go to Narnia? We just returned from Prince Caspian at the dollar theatres, and it was a welcome relief from the day.
Bad news awaited, however, in my cell phone message box. A dear young woman our family cares about is desperately ill. Her prognosis is not hopeful. Our hearts hurt for her, and for her family.
As if that weren't quite enough, after the death of our family dog this morning, there's more.
We have been functioning on an alarmingly low income this summer, and awaiting a job the end of July which I was counting on to carry us through. That was cancelled this evening.
So, death, illness, and poverty. What could possibly be more fun?
My God is Great, and Greatly to be Praised. He is neither perplexed nor shaken. Which is good, because I am both.
We'll watch together to see what He does, shall we?
Bad news awaited, however, in my cell phone message box. A dear young woman our family cares about is desperately ill. Her prognosis is not hopeful. Our hearts hurt for her, and for her family.
As if that weren't quite enough, after the death of our family dog this morning, there's more.
We have been functioning on an alarmingly low income this summer, and awaiting a job the end of July which I was counting on to carry us through. That was cancelled this evening.
So, death, illness, and poverty. What could possibly be more fun?
My God is Great, and Greatly to be Praised. He is neither perplexed nor shaken. Which is good, because I am both.
We'll watch together to see what He does, shall we?
I have no witty title
It's a sad day in our home, because our dog died this morning. We were planning it, but that doesn't make it easier. We had to put him down. M' is particularly sad, as this was his dog.
You can't really get away from death. Unfortunately, it's very interwoven into our lives.
Which makes me lively company today. Don't I sound cheery and uplifting?
I am still thinking on the book I read. There are all of these provocative concepts rolling about in my limited brain. One which struck me, is that God doesn't get disappointed with me, as I understand disappointment, because He doesn't expect me to be different than I am. This sure flies in the face of the guilt I so often cloak myself with, for being less than perfect.
I so often try to be polite and appropriate with God. Like a hypocritical propriety. It's quite ridiculous, really. God is neither surprised, nor shocked, at who I am. Sometimes I try so hard to hide myself from others, or to hide from myself....but to hide from God seems so bizarre. I suppose it's what they tried to do back in the garden of Eden. It didn't work for them, either.
Now, the kids are going to go watch a movie, and I am going to take a nap. I love naps. Do you think we'll have nap time in Heaven?
You can't really get away from death. Unfortunately, it's very interwoven into our lives.
Which makes me lively company today. Don't I sound cheery and uplifting?
I am still thinking on the book I read. There are all of these provocative concepts rolling about in my limited brain. One which struck me, is that God doesn't get disappointed with me, as I understand disappointment, because He doesn't expect me to be different than I am. This sure flies in the face of the guilt I so often cloak myself with, for being less than perfect.
I so often try to be polite and appropriate with God. Like a hypocritical propriety. It's quite ridiculous, really. God is neither surprised, nor shocked, at who I am. Sometimes I try so hard to hide myself from others, or to hide from myself....but to hide from God seems so bizarre. I suppose it's what they tried to do back in the garden of Eden. It didn't work for them, either.
Now, the kids are going to go watch a movie, and I am going to take a nap. I love naps. Do you think we'll have nap time in Heaven?
Monday, July 07, 2008
More on The Shack
Yep, I'm with Yvonne on this one. Go read it.
I finished this morning. I read last night until my tears were too blinding, and I gave up the pursuit. This morning, I read quickly to finish.
Who is this author? This person has a very insightful way of expressing difficult spiritual questions and answers. Take, for example, these: Doesn't God get irritated with me being such a slow learner? Why does God allow evil? Why did God create poisonous plants and harmful animals? How can I understand the concept of the Trinity?
This is a powerful book because it tackles enormous questions in a creative way. It will blow your mind. Plus, you will cry a lot. It will be on my mind for a long time.
I'd love to hear your thoughts.
I finished this morning. I read last night until my tears were too blinding, and I gave up the pursuit. This morning, I read quickly to finish.
Who is this author? This person has a very insightful way of expressing difficult spiritual questions and answers. Take, for example, these: Doesn't God get irritated with me being such a slow learner? Why does God allow evil? Why did God create poisonous plants and harmful animals? How can I understand the concept of the Trinity?
This is a powerful book because it tackles enormous questions in a creative way. It will blow your mind. Plus, you will cry a lot. It will be on my mind for a long time.
I'd love to hear your thoughts.
Sunday, July 06, 2008
The Shack. A book review
"Read it," Yvonne said. "I can't tell you about it, just read it."
If it had been anyone else, I would have smiled, and said something polite. But I wouldn't have gone off and bought it. Yvonne is wise about books, if you don't count the Midford ennui. She is wise about many things, and I listen when she makes a recommendation.
I bought it.
Now I am half way through, and I only took a break because I needed to assuage my thoughts with a keyboard massage; writing is so often how I think.
I don't know if you'll like the book.
I don't know if I like it.
The first few chapters collapsed that part in me where grief abides. Grief never goes away, once you've taken her in, she merely retreats into a dark hollow near the region of your stomach. Her emergence is implosion.
The book begins with a tragedy, and spins off into a dream. I kept crying, in the first chapters, but I seem to be better now. I am not one of those women who welcomes an opportunity to weep.
Tragedy so often hits blindside. There you are, minding your own business. Suddenly, your world changes, and you are never the same again. If you don't know what I mean, just a wait a bit, and you will. Life is like that, and that is the grip of the first few chapters of this book.
The Shack is very disturbing, and quite compelling. All that, and I'm only half way through!
After the initial need for Kleenex in the opening pages, the book takes a provocative turn. I'm thinking now, and it seems that there is much fodder for contemplation. It's got me thinking about how I think of God. Who is God really? How has my religious paradigm been wrong? What assumptions of mine need to be cut loose? What, among my theology, is not Biblical?
The description of God was hard for me to take at first, too much of an assault on my traditional beliefs. I am beginning to like it, somehow. It's got a ring of freshness and truth, that really resonates in me.
I guess I'll have to get back to you on how the book turns out. I'm sure I'll finish it tonight, unless I exercise some Herculean restraint, by putting it down, and going to sleep. In which case, I'll update you tomorrow.
And, Yvonne, I'm sorry I didn't like the Midford story. I tried really hard. But, I love you very much, indeed.
If it had been anyone else, I would have smiled, and said something polite. But I wouldn't have gone off and bought it. Yvonne is wise about books, if you don't count the Midford ennui. She is wise about many things, and I listen when she makes a recommendation.
I bought it.
Now I am half way through, and I only took a break because I needed to assuage my thoughts with a keyboard massage; writing is so often how I think.
I don't know if you'll like the book.
I don't know if I like it.
The first few chapters collapsed that part in me where grief abides. Grief never goes away, once you've taken her in, she merely retreats into a dark hollow near the region of your stomach. Her emergence is implosion.
The book begins with a tragedy, and spins off into a dream. I kept crying, in the first chapters, but I seem to be better now. I am not one of those women who welcomes an opportunity to weep.
Tragedy so often hits blindside. There you are, minding your own business. Suddenly, your world changes, and you are never the same again. If you don't know what I mean, just a wait a bit, and you will. Life is like that, and that is the grip of the first few chapters of this book.
The Shack is very disturbing, and quite compelling. All that, and I'm only half way through!
After the initial need for Kleenex in the opening pages, the book takes a provocative turn. I'm thinking now, and it seems that there is much fodder for contemplation. It's got me thinking about how I think of God. Who is God really? How has my religious paradigm been wrong? What assumptions of mine need to be cut loose? What, among my theology, is not Biblical?
The description of God was hard for me to take at first, too much of an assault on my traditional beliefs. I am beginning to like it, somehow. It's got a ring of freshness and truth, that really resonates in me.
I guess I'll have to get back to you on how the book turns out. I'm sure I'll finish it tonight, unless I exercise some Herculean restraint, by putting it down, and going to sleep. In which case, I'll update you tomorrow.
And, Yvonne, I'm sorry I didn't like the Midford story. I tried really hard. But, I love you very much, indeed.
Friday, July 04, 2008
The Devil made me do it
...Actually he didn't. Do you know how I know? Because I can handle it without his help. I don't know about you, but I am fairly adept at keeping a variety of sin issues flourishing in my self.
Nothing vulgar, you understand. I'm not committing adultery, nor embezzlement. Not that I wouldn't be tempted. I am quite wicked, deep down, which is the point.
I've been thinking lately about the sorts of things I struggle with. My greatest wrestling match at the moment in my head. You may find this hard to believe, but I have a hard time keeping my head about me. Shocking, no? I am a daydreamer, so my thoughts wander, and I am happily lost in the company of my own imagination. Either I am an artist, or in need of regular medication.
This becomes a sin issue because of several things.
One, I find that I daydream about things that cause a real emotional response in me, which is entirely inappropriate. Take for example, a situation from the other day. I was irritated with a person, and in my head I told him off in grand conversations in which I lambasted him, and emerged clever and victorious. When he walked up to me in real life, I was really pissed off because of my imaginary conversations. I had to take a moment to collect myself and emerge back into a civilized conversation, where I was polite.
Also, I am given to dramatic interpretations of my life in general. Things, and people, are glorious in the extreme, or entirely dreadful. Which? Most things are far closer to moderate than I would necessarily prefer. When I imagine someone worse or better than they really are, I am not free to love that person as they really are. See?
Often, I grow dissatisfied with my life, or some element of it, and I waste my day dreaming it were different. Although, if no one ever dreamed up Prince Charming and all those wonderful fairy tales, where would we be? See, the imagination isn't wrong. I know that. It's how to harness it's power without being swept away. This is my conundrum.
God tells me to think on what is True. True is so often mundane or wearying. Who wants to think about that? The Bible teaches that I am to be "transformed by the renewing of my mind." When my mind is on holiday, it is surely not being applied to the tasks at hand.
The whole idea of ordering my thoughts, and taking them captive, is a very frustrating prospect to me. It's a very tiresome battle. I am always fighting, and that within myself. I talk to myself, "that is not true, don't think on it. That is not pure, throw it out. That is not productive, order yourself, Self."
I do need medication, don't I?
I think a nice, external sin would be just lovely. Perhaps I'll beat my children, or kick the dog.
Nothing vulgar, you understand. I'm not committing adultery, nor embezzlement. Not that I wouldn't be tempted. I am quite wicked, deep down, which is the point.
I've been thinking lately about the sorts of things I struggle with. My greatest wrestling match at the moment in my head. You may find this hard to believe, but I have a hard time keeping my head about me. Shocking, no? I am a daydreamer, so my thoughts wander, and I am happily lost in the company of my own imagination. Either I am an artist, or in need of regular medication.
This becomes a sin issue because of several things.
One, I find that I daydream about things that cause a real emotional response in me, which is entirely inappropriate. Take for example, a situation from the other day. I was irritated with a person, and in my head I told him off in grand conversations in which I lambasted him, and emerged clever and victorious. When he walked up to me in real life, I was really pissed off because of my imaginary conversations. I had to take a moment to collect myself and emerge back into a civilized conversation, where I was polite.
Also, I am given to dramatic interpretations of my life in general. Things, and people, are glorious in the extreme, or entirely dreadful. Which? Most things are far closer to moderate than I would necessarily prefer. When I imagine someone worse or better than they really are, I am not free to love that person as they really are. See?
Often, I grow dissatisfied with my life, or some element of it, and I waste my day dreaming it were different. Although, if no one ever dreamed up Prince Charming and all those wonderful fairy tales, where would we be? See, the imagination isn't wrong. I know that. It's how to harness it's power without being swept away. This is my conundrum.
God tells me to think on what is True. True is so often mundane or wearying. Who wants to think about that? The Bible teaches that I am to be "transformed by the renewing of my mind." When my mind is on holiday, it is surely not being applied to the tasks at hand.
The whole idea of ordering my thoughts, and taking them captive, is a very frustrating prospect to me. It's a very tiresome battle. I am always fighting, and that within myself. I talk to myself, "that is not true, don't think on it. That is not pure, throw it out. That is not productive, order yourself, Self."
I do need medication, don't I?
I think a nice, external sin would be just lovely. Perhaps I'll beat my children, or kick the dog.
The free and the brave
We are very incredibly blessed in this country. I love the United States of America for all that she has given me, and for all that she allows me to be.
I understand that we are not better than the rest of the world. That we are not smarter. Certainly not thinner.
We are, for the moment, freer.
I am free to come and go as I like, to worship how I will. I may parent my children, with all that entails, and even choose to educate them as I like. I am free to love whomever I choose, and so can you. I can train in whatever martial arts or weaponry I see as a useful or amateur pursuit. I am even free to be something of an idiot, should the fancy strike me.
This is my home, and it's a land that I value. My forefathers took a mighty vision and gifted it to me and to my children. My sons may one day give their lives defending this great country for you. If that's the case, God be praised. We, in the USA, have something worth fighting for. We have a more than a nation, we have a heritage and a vision.
God Bless America.
I understand that we are not better than the rest of the world. That we are not smarter. Certainly not thinner.
We are, for the moment, freer.
I am free to come and go as I like, to worship how I will. I may parent my children, with all that entails, and even choose to educate them as I like. I am free to love whomever I choose, and so can you. I can train in whatever martial arts or weaponry I see as a useful or amateur pursuit. I am even free to be something of an idiot, should the fancy strike me.
This is my home, and it's a land that I value. My forefathers took a mighty vision and gifted it to me and to my children. My sons may one day give their lives defending this great country for you. If that's the case, God be praised. We, in the USA, have something worth fighting for. We have a more than a nation, we have a heritage and a vision.
God Bless America.
Thursday, July 03, 2008
Take me out to the ballgame
Have you ever had a thing, where you realised that the things you thought, was different that the thing that actually was? No? Maybe it's just me. It could be that I just need a drink. Or a date. Or perhaps a good night's sleep.
We went to the baseball game tonight, and they need to get some new songs. They play a fraction of a song during those times that everyone in the park is waiting for something to occur. Just as one begins to catch the beat and sing along, they end it so the hitter can strike out to peace and quiet. It's quite frustrating, really.
I learned that no matter how much you hate John Denver, you know all the words to his songs, and you will be compelled by a mighty force of nature, to sing along. You can't help it. Try "Grandma's Feather Bed." Seriously, the entire planet knows the words. John Denver is like Neil Diamond in that way.
Also, I learned that Boise is still a small enough town that you can run into people you haven't seen in years. Or in Months. Whatever. I saw a girl I used to do martial arts with, an old friend from high school, and a sort of relative of a friend. It was the very crossroads of my life. I am very glad that I troubled myself to put on make up.
The baseball game was fun, but that had very little to do with the actual game. Funny, that. There was music, and there were prizes, and there was food. We had the finest seats in the stadium, thanks to Tim.
A sporting event with one's closest friends. Very diverting.
We went to the baseball game tonight, and they need to get some new songs. They play a fraction of a song during those times that everyone in the park is waiting for something to occur. Just as one begins to catch the beat and sing along, they end it so the hitter can strike out to peace and quiet. It's quite frustrating, really.
I learned that no matter how much you hate John Denver, you know all the words to his songs, and you will be compelled by a mighty force of nature, to sing along. You can't help it. Try "Grandma's Feather Bed." Seriously, the entire planet knows the words. John Denver is like Neil Diamond in that way.
Also, I learned that Boise is still a small enough town that you can run into people you haven't seen in years. Or in Months. Whatever. I saw a girl I used to do martial arts with, an old friend from high school, and a sort of relative of a friend. It was the very crossroads of my life. I am very glad that I troubled myself to put on make up.
The baseball game was fun, but that had very little to do with the actual game. Funny, that. There was music, and there were prizes, and there was food. We had the finest seats in the stadium, thanks to Tim.
A sporting event with one's closest friends. Very diverting.
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
Before every event
BRRRRING
"Hello?"
"Hi. It's me. Are you getting ready?"
"Yeah, I just took a shower."
"Shower? Should I shower?"
"When was the last time you showered?"
"Right. I'd better do that. What are you wearing?"
" Well, I don't know. I was going to wear my shorts and a tank top, and bring a swimsuit to change into."
"No! Wear the swimsuit, and bring the clothes. Are you really wearing shorts?"
"Should I not? What are you wearing? Are the shorts dumb? I'll wear my black skirt instead. Are you doing make-up?"
"The skirt is good; You look good in the skirt. Are you wearing make-up?"
"Of course I'm wearing make-up, but I am not going to look like I'm wearing make-up."
"What are you bringing food-wise?"
"Seriously? I don't know! I've gotta go if I'm going to cook!"
"Oh, my gosh! I've got to go shower!"
"See you there!'
"Bye!"
"Bye!"
"Hello?"
"Hi. It's me. Are you getting ready?"
"Yeah, I just took a shower."
"Shower? Should I shower?"
"When was the last time you showered?"
"Right. I'd better do that. What are you wearing?"
" Well, I don't know. I was going to wear my shorts and a tank top, and bring a swimsuit to change into."
"No! Wear the swimsuit, and bring the clothes. Are you really wearing shorts?"
"Should I not? What are you wearing? Are the shorts dumb? I'll wear my black skirt instead. Are you doing make-up?"
"The skirt is good; You look good in the skirt. Are you wearing make-up?"
"Of course I'm wearing make-up, but I am not going to look like I'm wearing make-up."
"What are you bringing food-wise?"
"Seriously? I don't know! I've gotta go if I'm going to cook!"
"Oh, my gosh! I've got to go shower!"
"See you there!'
"Bye!"
"Bye!"
Acts of the Commune
My social calendar is full. Today is a float down the river, tomorrow is a Boise Hawks Baseball game, Friday is a bar-b-que and fireworks, and Saturday is a pool party. For a girl who doesn't get out much, I have a lot going on. "Party Girls" Soubanh calls us. He's going to be at nearly all of these events, himself, so what does that make him?
I was wondering if the early church was anything like this. This house church group is also my social circle. It's like family, in the sense that we're all in each other's lives. But it's even better because it's all people who jive well with one another.
The early church in Acts met in people's homes, and they met one another's financial needs, and they dined in each other's homes. That certainly sounds like us. It's rather a lot of closeness, as one among us recently pointed out. It's like a scene from My Big Fat Greek Wedding. Remember all of the people, and the eating, and the getting in each other's business? It's like that. It's quite wonderful, really.
God seems to like us to live in community. Not quite communal living, but certainly relational. He wants us to be accountable to others. He wants us to be close enough to see needs in others. He wants us to have relationships wherein we've earned the right to speak truth into the lives around us. This intimacy requires investment. It requires commitment. And it requires a great deal of time.
So, that sure makes my weekend plans sound holy, huh?
I was wondering if the early church was anything like this. This house church group is also my social circle. It's like family, in the sense that we're all in each other's lives. But it's even better because it's all people who jive well with one another.
The early church in Acts met in people's homes, and they met one another's financial needs, and they dined in each other's homes. That certainly sounds like us. It's rather a lot of closeness, as one among us recently pointed out. It's like a scene from My Big Fat Greek Wedding. Remember all of the people, and the eating, and the getting in each other's business? It's like that. It's quite wonderful, really.
God seems to like us to live in community. Not quite communal living, but certainly relational. He wants us to be accountable to others. He wants us to be close enough to see needs in others. He wants us to have relationships wherein we've earned the right to speak truth into the lives around us. This intimacy requires investment. It requires commitment. And it requires a great deal of time.
So, that sure makes my weekend plans sound holy, huh?
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
Painting the Uglies
I was awakened too early by what sounded like a hurricane outside my window. Once I realized that the house was not being broken into, I began to imagine all the Greek gods throwing lightening bolts at one another from my rooftop. This was most inconvenient as I was needing a little beauty sleep. What I'm needing is a Lot of beauty rest.
Being the rather simplistic person that I am, I find that deep within myself is the belief that one should sleep when it is dark. During the summer months, this means that I begin to wind down around 10:30, and actually sleep at midnight. Of course winter nights in Idaho are long, so I am ready for bed by 6 pm. I sleep a much needed 12 hours a day in the winter, and half that in the summer. I'm tired.
That beauty I was mentioning before becomes so elusive without sleep. But it's rather a fickle attribute on any day. I find that in my striving to appear attractive, I either wear too much make-up or none at all. My aim is off. We girls may be lovelier if we spend an hour in prayer, rather than an hour before the mirror.
So much in me is like this.
I desire to be seen as intelligent, but the most asinine words escape my lips. I desire to be effective, but my energy is too unfocused. I want to bless others, then behave as one self-consumed. It's a whole Romans 7 thing, "I do that which I do not want to do."
It's very irritating.
Perhaps the problem is that my expectations are wrong. I think I am beautiful or intelligent, and am floored when I pass a mirror or open my mouth. Or I feel myself to be witty and winsome with the men, so am shocked when I see myself bashful and awkward.
Personally, I think I need to go with that hour of prayer principle. If I would just gear myself up to do what God has for me, I'd be a lot less worried about making a smashing impression on anyone else.
It's back to that, then, isn't it? Who am I trying to be beautiful or intelligent for? What purpose do such attributes serve? Without the Lord, it's just a golden ring in a pig's snout, Ugliness Accessorized.
Although, a nap couldn't hurt.
Being the rather simplistic person that I am, I find that deep within myself is the belief that one should sleep when it is dark. During the summer months, this means that I begin to wind down around 10:30, and actually sleep at midnight. Of course winter nights in Idaho are long, so I am ready for bed by 6 pm. I sleep a much needed 12 hours a day in the winter, and half that in the summer. I'm tired.
That beauty I was mentioning before becomes so elusive without sleep. But it's rather a fickle attribute on any day. I find that in my striving to appear attractive, I either wear too much make-up or none at all. My aim is off. We girls may be lovelier if we spend an hour in prayer, rather than an hour before the mirror.
So much in me is like this.
I desire to be seen as intelligent, but the most asinine words escape my lips. I desire to be effective, but my energy is too unfocused. I want to bless others, then behave as one self-consumed. It's a whole Romans 7 thing, "I do that which I do not want to do."
It's very irritating.
Perhaps the problem is that my expectations are wrong. I think I am beautiful or intelligent, and am floored when I pass a mirror or open my mouth. Or I feel myself to be witty and winsome with the men, so am shocked when I see myself bashful and awkward.
Personally, I think I need to go with that hour of prayer principle. If I would just gear myself up to do what God has for me, I'd be a lot less worried about making a smashing impression on anyone else.
It's back to that, then, isn't it? Who am I trying to be beautiful or intelligent for? What purpose do such attributes serve? Without the Lord, it's just a golden ring in a pig's snout, Ugliness Accessorized.
Although, a nap couldn't hurt.
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