Approach the Throne

Bubble, Bubble, Toil and Trouble

2010-10-18T05:38:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I had lunch with my Mom in Champaign. We went to a 'new place' to eat, so I was looking around at the restaurant, taking in the setting.

The hostess, after seating us, went to 'work' stringing up this HUGE fake spiderweb Halloween decoration across the booths facing the entrance. She was diligently pulling on the cottony stuff as we ate. When we were almost finished, my Mom looks for a moment at the huge spider web and the gal on the ladder and Mom then looks at me and says very matter-of-factly, "She's been working really hard on that piece of crap."

I cracked up at that comment. Laughed out loud for like, 37 minutes. The waitress came over and asked if I was okay. And, for a moment, I considered going to California and plugging my own show-"BLEEP my Mom Says!".

When I finally calmed down, I agreed with her. Because you see, my family is not 'big' into Halloween decorating. We just haven't ever really gotten into it like some folks do. So I totally understood what Mom meant. It was a lot of time spent on something very 'unimportant' and 'unnecessary' in the 'grand scheme of things' (at least in Mom's eyes).

That statement got me to thinking though...about how we all have opportunities to 'work really hard on pieces of crap'. Now, granted...my piece is going to look different from yours...but I am humbled by the thought of how we use our time. About the thoughts that occupy my head...how important is it for me to nurse that grudge I've got? How much have I failed to grasp because my hands were too busy holding onto bitterness?

I realize that much like the hostess picking and pulling at that batting, I can pick and pull at the people in my life. I can stand up on my own ladder and look down at folks. I can...easily...work very hard on a piece of crap.

My friends, there's nothing wrong with Halloween decorating. There is, however, a finite amount of time in each of our lives. What can you do today to benefit those around you?

But I haven't lost my cool!

2010-09-21T04:22:00.000-07:00

"Give me your phone!", my husband says.

"Why?" I ask.

"I've lost mine."

"Well, you're not getting mine! I don't want you losing it too!" I reply. (See, I wasn't born yesterday!)

"I want to call my phone and see if I can find it that way," he patiently explains. He dials his number. Listens to hear it ring.

Nothing.

He lets out a disgusted sigh and heads out to the garage to look there.

I know what this means, people. Because we've been through this same thing before. With other items. Wallets...keys...glasses...coffee cups...hats...spaniels...toddlers...money. Spaniels with money.

(okay, that last one was made up. I'll admit it.)

It means, quite simply, that 'm going to have to find his phone. You see, I'm much better at finding stuff. Seriously. Stick me in the mountains with a barrel of whiskey or something around my neck and I'll locate some lost skiers for you. I'm that good!

But if I honestly look at myself...well, I should tell you, my friends...that I can lose things just as easily as my husband.

In the past I've lost my place in a book because I was interrupted 452 times by children wanting to know important pieces of information. Questions like, do we have any glitter? What happens when you flush a Lego creation? Can I feed the dog peanut butter?

I've lost my place in line at the grocery store because I suddenly remembered that I needed tumeric.

I've lost my voice cheering for my favorite team.

I've lost track of time sipping coffee at the Steeple, chatting with a friend.

I've lost my temper trying to parallel park my minivan.

In fact, the one thing I DON'T seem to be able to lose is ten pounds. Go figure.

However, what I can lose the quickest is my perspective. Especially if I begin to worry. Looks a little like this:

'What if my husband can't find his phone? It's a company cell phone. He'll have to pay for it! We don't have the money for that! I'll have to get a second job and sell the dining room set on craigslist! And what else has he lost? What if he loses his job over this? Where will we live? What if we have to live in the minivan? Worse yet, what if I have to parallel park???'

See what I mean? When I worry...I get lost.

My friends, worry doesn't help. It's a poor excuse for control. You're better off if you sit down, take a deep breath, and stay in 'the now'. That's how you keep your perspective. Don't go rushing off into the future...just sit still for a moment.

Wait a second. Am I sitting on something? Hey! Guess what? I found his phone! What did I tell you? I'm good!

The plane truth about change

2010-08-09T05:17:00.000-07:00

When I find something that I like, I tend to hang onto it.

You know, like the doorhandle when my sixteen year old drives. Or that one Valentine's Day card my husband purchased for me in 2000.

Let's face it. I'm not a huge risk taker. I am not a speed demon. I don't bungee jump.
I haven't wrestled an alligator. I don't even like taking 11 items into the Express Lane.

There was this one time, though...when I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and held desperately onto my seven year old daughter's shoulders as we slid down a snowy hill.

Well, halfway down. The incline wasn't that steep, now that I think about it.

I tend to play it safe. And I know what I like. My favorite ice cream? Vanilla. My favorite purse choice? Your basic black.

Don't get me wrong though. I'll try new things.

Just not 'risky' new things.

There was one time in my life when I did do something totally out of my comfort zone. And it changed me forever.

My Dad was working on his pilot's license and offered to take me up in an airplane.

Now there are two things you need to know: One-I'm really afraid of heights. Two-my Dad believes that a couple of tiny bicycle-like seats and a small sheet of plexiglas surrounded by a layer of what appears to be red tinfoil is 'an airplane'.

To this day I do not know what possessed me to 'get in'. But I did. I remember finally getting enough courage to look out the window and down. The cars on the road were like Matchbox cars! Meanwhile, my stomach was trying to exit my body through my left elbow. In fact, I had just enough wits about me to scribble my "Last Will and Testament" on a gum wrapper from my pocket when we landed back on the ground.

Relief doesn't even begin to describe how I felt. However, I cannot even look at a Matchbox car!

Recently, I've been dealing with a couple of different changes in my life. It hasn't been easy for me. I am a creature of comfort. I actually don't mind a bit of a rut. Predictability is okay with me.

But once again, I've made the decision to step out of a comfort zone and try something different.

Am I frightened? Yeah, I am. Not 'is that huge growling Marmaduke of a dog on his leash or not?' frightened...but I'm nervous. And I think my stomach is aiming for my right elbow this time around.

However, once in a while, you need to get out of that comfortable rut and do something daring! My friends, we can't really understand what our potential is until we stretch a little and stick our neck out.

So try something different today. Don't drive that same boring route to work. Wear your hair down instead of up. Ask that cheerleader on a date. Get some whipped cream in your Starbucks. Say hello to that neighbor you've never met. Let your daughter give you that makeover. Buy some mint chocolate chip ice cream! And get that new purse. I hear taupe is the new plaid...

I spy with my Magic Eye

2010-07-12T05:00:00.001-07:00

I can't curl my tongue.

Can you? Lots of people can do it. I am not one of them.

One day in sixth grade, I spent about fourteen hours just trying to curl my tongue. It was totally frustrating me that this apparently simple task was not something I could succeed at doing.

"You do it like this," my friends tried to show me. To no avail.

"I CAN'T DO IT! JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!" I said.

It has bothered me for years. Well, until the 1990's anyway. That's when I discovered that I had a 'cooler' talent than tongue-curling.

No, it's not acid washing jeans. No, it's not dancing the Macarena.

I discovered that I can figure out Magic Eye 3D animation.

It all started one innocent morning at my job. I was on break when our computer guy came running in with a large framed poster. He set it on a table in the breakroom against the wall.

"Can you see it!?" he asked, excitedly.

"Can I see what?" I responded, sipping my soda.

"The rocketship! Can you see it?" he was rubbing his hands together and kind of bouncing up and down. I hadn't seen Mark this excited since he'd gotten a new supply of floppy disks and a color computer monitor.

"What I see is a lot of weird designs," I said. I looked at the poster more closely.

"Focus on the center," he instructed.

"Okay," I said. And I stared at the center of the poster. My break was almost up but I was afraid that if I tried to leave, Mark would freak out on me. Suddenly, there it was! A rocketship! And not only a rocketship...but a 3D rocketship! How cool was that??!!!

"Well?" he asked, anxiously.

"I see it!' I cried out. And that was when Sandra walked into the breakroom. I grabbed her arm.

"Can you see it?" I asked, just as excited now as Mark. Both of us were bouncing now. "Can you see the rocketship?"

Sandra looked at each of us like we were crazy and looked at the poster. "I don't see any ship." She glanced at us again. "What is that goofy picture supposed to be?"

"It's a rocketship," Mark said. "It's right there!" I pointed at the picture.

"I don't see it!" Sandra said. And I tried to help her. "Look at the picture like you're looking through your car windshield. Look THROUGH the picture."

"Look through the picture?" she rolled her eyes at me. "Girl, you need a longer break." and she walked out the door.

Mark left the poster there in the breakroom and at lunchtime I was back...looking at the rocketship. Several people came in to see it. And two groups began forming. Those who could 'see in 3D'...and those who could not.

It began to get a little ugly at work.

"IT'S RIGHT THERE!" I said, trying to outline the ship for someone. "RIGHT THERE! CAN'T YOU SEE IT?"

"NO! I CAN'T, CARRIE! LEAVE ME ALONE!"

I was stunned. It was so simple! How could people not see the hidden image? What was wrong with them?

And that, my friends, is what is wrong with the world. Not that people can't figure out Magic Eye posters...but that I think there's something 'wrong' with them.

We all have different talents and abilities. We all have something that we are good at...like finding rocketships...and we all fall short in other areas. Like tongue-curling.

One ability is not better than another one. One talent does not make you more 'special' than having another talent. What's important to remember is that there is SOMETHING that you are good at doing. Focus on that.

Can you see it?

Don't spend too much time trying to curl your tongue. Or find a rocketship. And don't think you're better or worse because you can or can't do those things.

The world would be a boring place without 3D images and tongue tricks, wouldn't it?

Thanks for reading!

What's in your disc player?

2010-06-28T05:23:00.000-07:00

I think my daughter is actually excited about our vacation.

It was 'touch and go' for a while there. She wants to see the ocean. We're not doing that this year. We're going to see hills instead. Which did not please her at first.

However, the other night, she had an attitude adjustment.

It all started at dinner, when we were discussing some of our plans for the trip. At one point the topic of music came up.

"I could make a mix CD for us to listen to on the way there!" my daughter said. My hubby, (whose musical tastes are NOT the same as those of a fifteen year old girl) promptly piped up with, "I ain't listening to that stuff you listen to the whole way there!"
(He doesn't have the grammar skills of a forty two year old woman either!)

My daughter cracked up at his statement. And she determined then and there that "I ain't listening to that stuff!" would be the title of the mix CD. She's been working on it for the past 3 days now. I think she said yesterday that it would actually be a boxed set of three CD's. Vol. 1-3 of "I ain't listening to that stuff!"

I gave her some suggestions for songs that her father would listen to and it's been funny watching her select the music for our vacation.

Music has been a vital part of my life since I was eight years old or so. That's when I got the 45 record player and my Mom's collection of 45's. I hadn't heard of any of the artists before, and didn't know that there was an A side (the 'hit song') and a B side of a 45. I played the songs with the most interesting titles.

I distinctly remember coming across a song called "Chicken Necks". It was by two guys called Don and Juan. I put the needle on the record and in an instant was captivated by them. The lyrics were incredibly funny to me. "...chicken necks is all I eat!" was just one phrase in the song.

I loved it. It made me laugh. And so I played it a lot.

One day I'm in my bedroom, singing at the top of my voice with Don and Juan about their precious chicken necks, when Mom walks in.

"What are you listening to?" she asks.

"You should know," I reply. "It's your record!" She goes over to the record player and picks up the 45. "I never listened to this!" she claimed. "I listened to the song on the other side. What's Your Name. That was their hit song."

I had no idea I wasn't listening to the 'hit'!. Friends, I listened to the 'hit song'...and I must confess...Chicken Necks was WAY BETTER! The other song didn't make me laugh. And, it did NOT have a beat you could dance to...

Lately I've felt that I've been listening to the 'wrong side of the record'. I've been struggling with some big changes in my life, and not handling them as well as I'd hoped. The '45's' in my head weren't the music I needed to hear. We can get so caught up with the negative side of life that we have a hard time focusing on the positive. When I heard my husband declare, "I ain't listening to that stuff!", it made me remember that I have a choice regarding the 'voice' I listen to each day. I can listen to the 'stuff I don't want to listen to'...the negative one...or I can choose the positive B side of the 45.

My friends, choose wisely in your circumstances. You can choose to be upset with your family because you can't go to the ocean or you can turn that frown upside down by finding something to focus on that gives you joy. Like making a mix CD for your family. You can go with the crowd and listen to the boring hit song or you can dance the day away to a rousing rendition of "Chicken Necks". It's up to you.

Plant Pondering

2010-06-14T04:40:00.000-07:00

I have several things planted in my vegetable garden. There's cucumbers, tomatoes and weeds. I've got onions, peppers and weeds. Oh, and some green beans, lettuce and weeds.

Okay, so I didn't technically plant weeds, but for crying out loud! How do they get in there?! I did not put them there! And how do they manage to grow so quickly when the rest of my garden seems to take YEARS to grow?

It's a mystery that my little Nancy Drew brain can't seem to get a clue about weeds.

While we're on the subject though, here's another thing I can't stand about them. You have got to keep pulling them or they'll take over the garden. Some weeds, I've noticed, are somewhat easy to get rid of...but others are tough! I've tried pulling some weeds that I would swear have been taking steroids and have a greater muscle mass than I do!

Weeds are sneaky as well. Some of them disguise themselves to look like a vegetable plant. I pulled one the other day that had a reddish root on it and thought I'd pulled a radish up! Conniving weeds...trying to trick us into thinking that they are 'good' for us...when they're not.

Ask any of my gardener friends and they'll tell you to get rid of those weeds when they're small. Because once they're well-rooted, you have to really work to pull them out. Sigh. Some days it's almost discouraging for me to go out to the garden because the first thing I'll notice is the weeds. Not the plants. I sigh heavily as I consider the hard work ahead of me. I'll think, "Why did I plant this stupid garden in the first place? It's WORK!" Sometimes I think that my garden is the ONLY one out there with weeds. Some days I just want to think about eating those Big Boy tomatoes with some bacon and lettuce. I don't want to think about putting on gloves and getting dirty pulling weeds. Where's the fun in that?

You know, our lives could be compared to a vegetable garden. Let me ask this: How do you handle the weeds in your life? Are there some little, niggly weeds that you find you have to routinely pull out? Are there some that look like they're beneficial plants but aren't? Maybe you've got some really tough, tall weeds in your garden that you can't seem to pull out on your own because the roots are so deep. You might want to get the help of another gardener for those. One thing is for sure: regardless of the size of our gardens, or how long we've had a garden, we all need a weed whacking system in place!

Because every garden has weeds...I'm off to my garden now. You know, maybe I'll try pushing those weeds instead of pulling them. I might get a better workout that way!!

I'm positive that you're my only hope!

2010-05-24T04:48:00.000-07:00

My blood type is B Positive.

Or, as I like to call it...the optimistic blood type. And I'm not sure it's the one I should have, due to my personality. You see, most days I feel like, 'I'm A Negative person. But I try to B Positive.'

Yeah, some scientist out there has a really, weird sense of humor.

Recently my mother had to get some blood before she has a surgical procedure. We were talking about our blood types and we were trying to figure out, on our own, which ones were the universal donors and which ones were rare, etc. Very fascinating stuff, I know! When I got her home, I went to Wikipedia and found some information on blood types.

Because that's the kind of geek I am!

I wanted more information. I wanted to know the facts. I wanted to have more control over a situation than I felt I had. Knowledge is power, and I felt a little powerless about how to help my Mom at the moment.

After I found the answers to the questions we were looking for (and I'm not going to bore you with those here, you can find the answers on your own!), I started to surf for something to watch on her tv.

And I came across Star Wars. The first movie. The one that all of us over the age of thirty refer to as "Star Wars".

It had just begun. And I stayed there a moment, watching R2D2 and C3PO get across the laser fire-filled hallway to the other side...you know, where they meet up with the princess.

"Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You're my only hope."

Don't know who Obi-Wan is? Don't understand why he's Princess Leia's only hope? Then I suggest you try Wookieepedia, the Star Wars Wiki.

Because that's the kind of geek I am!

Wow...talk about pressure! Her 'only hope'. Princess Leia was trying to fix a situation, and put her hope into the one person she could think of that could help her. And if anyone could handle pressure like that, it was Obi-Wan.

So often, my friends, we will put our hope into things that really can't, in the long one, fix or control our situation. We rely on money, or jobs, or people that aren't Obi-Wan. And we end up disappointed. Disappointed when we lose that job, when the relationship ends, when we try to give blood and find out that our iron count is too low and so we can't give that day and we have to come back another day, but it's okay because at least now we know what our blood type is, right?

It's hard to be positive when you're in the midst of disappointment. When you're wanting to fix or control something that requires more than the resources you have available. Negativity can rush right in, can't it?

Don't give up. When you're down and disappointed, stay hopeful. There is One, my friends, who can handle things WAY BETTER than Obi-Wan. That's one thing I am positive about...! New hope may be just the thing you need!

Incidentally, when they came out with the newer Star Wars films, they began calling "Star Wars" something else. They began calling it "A New Hope".

I learned that from Wookieepedia.

Not just a job...but an adventure!

2010-05-03T03:27:00.000-07:00

Babies are cute for a reason.

That's their hook. That's how they 'get' you. They use that cuteness to their advantage.

Babies are sneaky. You know why? Because they turn into teenagers...need I say more?

Yeah, okay. I'll say more. This past weekend, we just bought our daughter her first car. As we're signing the papers on it, I'm looking at her and thinking, "When did she get so old? Just yesterday, we were in KFC and she announced to the entire restaurant that she'd just 'gone potty like a big girl'. I wish I was Superman so I could turn back time because it's moving past me way too fast and...wait, how much did that salesman say registration costs? Wow! When did I get so old?"

As a mother of a driving teen, I am now aware of two things: 1) it won't be long before my daughter's out on her own. And b) she better be wearing clean underwear...in case she's in an accident.

Why can I say things like that? Because I'm the Mom...that's why!

Part of a Mom's job is to say things that seem to contradict themselves. Sit down! Sit up! Look at me when I'm talking to you! Don't look at me like that!

Motherhood is a continuous contradiction, isn't it? I can't tell you how many times I've tried to explain subtle differences to my children. Like how caterpillars and butterflies are the same but different and how sour cream and sour milk is different...but the same.

Motherhood is not an easy job. We have so much information to share and so little time to share it. Do my kids know that it's better to give than to receive? Do they know that a penny saved is a penny earned? Do they know who is in Grant's tomb and how to spell Mississippi the 'fun way'? Perhaps most importantly, do they know how to separate whites from colors in the laundry so that they don't end up with pink underwear?

I guess it doesn't really matter what color it is...so long as it's clean, right?

My friends, take a moment this week to thank your Mom for all of her hard work. And Moms, don't be too hard on yourselves. You've done the best you can with those cute babies.

Gratituesday...(or The Day I counted my threads!)

2010-04-20T05:34:00.000-07:00

So this morning I woke up and considered my warm bed for a moment. Rubbed my feet together and found myself thinking about the way the sheets feel on them. 'Mmmm...that feels nice. I wonder what the thread count is on these sheets? Just what exactly is a 'thread count' anyways...I mean, who's got time to count threads? Apparently Egyptians do...because they're usually listed on the sheet tags. 'Sheet tags'...is that even a real phrase? Why am I even awake? Most importantly, why am I asking myself all these questions?'

That's when I decided to be quiet in my head for a moment and listen. I heard the dog snoring softly from the foot of the bed. I heard my daughter's music as she opened her bedroom door and went into the bathroom. I heard a mourning dove cooing. Trucks and cars going to work (or home) on the highway nearby.

What a lot of stuff to ponder upon in just 30 seconds or so...not big things, any of them...just small fragments...little details of my life.

Which got me to thinking about what I'm grateful for today.

Gratitude does not come easy for me. While my manners (I will thank you for giving me something!)have taught me to vocalize gratitude to people, I do not easily 'count my blessings'. So often I take things for granted, or wish for things I do not have. I think hard about my needs...my wants...others needs and their wants. I pray about these things, thinking that somehow maybe...that counts as gratitude.

But to be able to lay in my bed for half a minute and think about all the small things I would miss if they were not here...and thank God for them...was a really great (grateful!) way to start my day.

My friends, if you are having trouble finding things to be thankful for...start with something easy...something small. Something as simple as...oh...I don't know...toilet paper, maybe? I am SOOOOO thankful for toilet paper. And lilacs. And comfy beds...and thread counts.

Count your 'threads' today. :)

Strike a Pose

2010-04-04T21:08:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time while channel surfing,
(Go on, admit it. All of the best stories begin with those words!)

Once upon a time, while I clicked my way around the television world, I came across a show I had never seen before. It was mesmerizing, full of color and exotic locations, and major fights.

No, it wasn't the UFC. Or Dora the Explorer.

It was America's Next Top Model. Three minutes in and I was hooked. You see, it's a reality show about super model wannabe's and their quest to become the Next Cover Girl Extraordinaire. Just the type of show a middle aged, rural gal like myself needs when she wants to 'get away from the mundane'.

Like most reality shows, there are challenges and eliminations. Sure, there's superficiality. And griping, whining, backstabbing and namecalling...but during the major photo shoot you get a chance to see who really takes modeling seriously.

And who's just another pretty, pretending face.

There is a part of me that has secretly wanted to be a model. And on a hot summer day when I was about seventeen, I got a taste of what that life might be like.

My youth group went to Great America near Chicago for rollercoaster fun filled with long lines and sunburned faces. Boy, it was HOT that day! At one point, just to get into some air conditioning, I ventured into a photo booth where for a sum equivalent to a college education you could have your picture put on the cover of a 'real' magazine.

I was the queen of the magazine realm at that age. I read Teen Beat and Tiger Beat and Seventeen and 16 Magazine...just to name a few. Why, I'd even peruse some of my mother's mags, even if I didn't care about recipes or the color of my current window treatments.

So I decided to have my image pasted onto the cover of Teen Beat. "COVER STAR LOOKING FOR LOVE!" read the headline. "COULD YOU BE THE ONE?"

The photographer had me do this ridiculous pose where one arm was up over my head and the other was beckoning. After what felt like several months of turning and gazing and standing still and moving quickly the final picture was taken. However, while I felt like I was trying to direct traffic rather than attempting to seek out that 'special guy', the picture turned out pretty good.

And I learned something valuable from that photo session. America's Next Top Model, while it may have some serious flaws as a form of entertainment, does get one thing right.

Modeling is HARD WORK! And actions very often speak louder than words...

Take my job as a parent. Or a daughter. Or a wife. PLEASE! (nyuk, nyuk, nyuk)

All kidding aside here, the times I've been beautifully successful in those jobs (or when I've extremely failed at them) were NOT the times that I simply talked or yelled or instructed. They were the times I MODELED good or bad behavior. The times that showed others how to do the right or wrong thing.

If my children hear me say that they should be giving and generous, but never see me actually do that for someone-it's less effective. And if I tell my husband to respect me, but don't show him what respect can look like-I'm not helpful. You see, we are the ones in front of a camera, my friends. We are the ones who wake up each day for a full photo shoot.

We are America's Next Top Model.

We just don't call ourselves that name, do we? I mean, let's face it. That's a huge responsibility. Bigger even than working for Maybelline or Gucci.

This week I encourage you to consider treating people the way that you would like to be treated. Not just thinking about doing something, or considering the consequences involved if something doesn't happen...but ACTION. Your children watch you, your employees watch you, the public watches you. Whether you believe it or not, someone is channel surfing your life every day...make sure that what they're seeing is worth a second look.

Like daughter, like mother?

2010-03-21T14:36:00.000-07:00

My daughter has recently begun to mock my vocabulary.

A friend of mine tells me, "We mock what we do not understand."

Hm. I thought that my daughter understood me, for the most part. Perhaps the problem is that she just doesn't understand why I like using big words. Or different words. Or something besides, "IDK, wut r u doin' 2day? Txt me! C u l8r!"

Sometimes I don't understand her, but I should get an "A" for trying! I've read Japanese manga books from back cover to front cover. I've tolerated Lady GaGa blaring from the tiny, tinny speakers of her iPod earbuds. I hit 384 garage sales the summer between her first and second grade, just because she had decided that all she was going to wear was dresses. And I've made myself a willing listener to her recount Who Knows How Many dramatic moments of her life. (That, my friends, is not easy to do. Let's face it, the girl can talk so quickly and so loudly that, at some point in the conversation, only dogs can hear her.)

Me? I normally just nod my head and smile wanly.

("wanly" is exactly the kind of word I use that H. would mock!)

It's not fair. I worked so hard in those early years of her life to teach her to speak. So that we could have mind-blowing discussions and giggle over 'girl stuff'. I know I'm good at teaching speech because The Family Dog and I can have a great, earnest conversation about things like our yard's rabbit population or the current state of world economics.

But talking to my teen-aged daughter?

Rut roh, Raggy.

I can't win. Oh, I've tried to speak 'at her level'. "Waz up, G? Are you chillin' with your gnomies?"

All that got me was a withering look and a huffy sigh.

Still, you can't blame a gal for trying!

I needed some help. So I went to my own mother for advice. Unfortunately, that turned into a rousing debate of Medicare Part Z and a heated discussion over the values of fresh, frozen or canned peas.

My head was spinning and as I got ready to leave, Mom asked, "Waz up, G? Are you chillin' with your gnomies?"

I felt oddly reassured. And reminded myself of how much I love both of those amazing women in my life.

My friends, sometimes the very people we share a home with are the hardest to get to know. I encourage you to take some time today and sit down with them and listen even if you only end up smiling wanly. It'll be worth it, I promise!

Thanks for reading!

Of stolen purses and mix tapes...

2010-01-25T07:21:00.000-08:00

To this day, I will fight against it.

I mean, it's a little easier, since I'm a mom myself...but I really have to work past something to do it.

I would rather hand my mother her purse. Just let her get whatever it is she needs out of it.

You don't go rooting around in a woman's purse. At least, that's the lesson I learned as a child.

There's a 'purse sacredness' or something. I'm now a member of that club. My kids do not go looking through my purse. They simply hand it to me.

If you are a woman like me, you probably have a similar rule at your place. As mothers, we have few 'private moments'...so I think we use our purses. Not that we're carrying anything we don't WANT you to see or anything. It's more a respect of space, I think.
I'm not sure what would happen to me if I did go looking through someone's purse, but I am sure that it would not be pleasant.

When I was about 22 years old, my purse was stolen from my car. I wasn't a mom at that time, so I didn't have EVERYTHING in it. I did however, have a few things that meant something to me stored in there. And I lost more than just those items.

I was only gone for a second. I mean, literally...one second. Okay, so it was really more like 62 seconds, but still, for some dumb reason, I thought my purse would be safe in my unlocked car. Not true that fateful day. Someone came by and simply removed the entire purse from the car. Just took the whole thing.

As I mentioned, I was 22 at the time. Which means I didn't have any real money in there. I had one credit card and a checkbook. Both of those things had to be reported and replaced. No big deal. Took a little time, that's all. And I had to replace my driver's license. That was another time annoyance. Had some lipstick and make up in there. Had to replace that as well.

It was a few days though, before I realized that the mix tape was gone. And then I got really upset.

You young people may not know what a 'mix tape' is, so I'll explain quickly. Back in the 'old days', we had Walkmans instead of ipods. And you had to insert a cassette tape into one in order for music to come out of it. A 'dinosaur' of equipment, I know.

Anyway, a friend had made me a cassette tape of music. I'd been listening to it in my car's cassette deck, and had stuck it in my purse to take it into the house to listen to later...when the purse was stolen.

So the tape was gone.

And now, twenty years later...I still miss that tape. More than the few bucks I had. More than the Cover Girl mascara. More than my checkbook.

I miss that tape.

Has someone stolen something from you? Maybe it wasn't a mix tape or a purse. Maybe it was your trust. If you've never had anything stolen, you don't understand the feeling of vulnerability. Suddenly, my new purse became an obsessive thing. I double-checked to make sure I had it with me...clutched it to my chest at times. Kept it close. Because no one was going to steal my purse again!

And what's worse, I looked at the world differently. Now that sweet little girl over there? Who's no more than four years old? She could be a purse stealer! Or that guy there...maybe he steals purses?

Losing trust is worse than losing a purse. It takes a long time to get that back. You really have to work at it, my friends. And there will be wounds that may not go away for twenty years, but keep at it. Because the tape isn't really that important. I mean, c'mon! I don't have a Walkman anymore to listen to and I've got most of the songs downloaded to my mp3 player now.

It's not the same, I agree. But it's better than it was a few years ago. People make mistakes, people get hurt, people need forgiveness. All painful...and all worth it.

Now, where is that mp3 player? Oh, in my purse. Could you hand that to me? Thanks!

Seeing red about Pinky

2010-01-10T20:33:00.000-08:00

As a kid growing up in rural Illinois in the 70's, only three things made me really angry.

1) My sister picking out all the 'good' Barbie fashions we had available.

2) My Mom asking me to clean my room.

And the biggie. The worst thing ever. Three little words.

To Be Continued.

I remember it like it was yesterday. There I was, laying on the living room floor in front of our color console television, watching Happy Days one fine September evening in 1976. Fonzie was in a demolition derby...(how awesome was that?) and he had a girlfriend named Pinky (who was so cool! Like, everything about her was PINK!)

And just when it was getting good...at the most important part of the show...three words came on the screen...

TO BE CONTINUED.

Well, I threw a hissy fit. How dare ABC do this to me?! I have to know what happens to the Fonz! C'mon!! (My blood pressure is rising just recalling this memory.) Stupid Mallachi brothers! I could just strangle them!! How dare they!?

Now, maybe you think that's silly. Maybe you could care less about Fonzie. I don't care. The fact is: we all get angry, don't we? And...more often than we'd care to admit...we get angry about things that, in the long run, really don't matter.

Think about your anger for a second. Who does it hurt? I know that for me...my anger at a television show caused me to mouth off to my Mom (resulting in a spanking) and hide the best Barbie dresses from my sister (resulting in an unfortunate pencil poke in the leg). If I had known the address, I'd have written a letter to the producers of the show (after some kind, knowledgeable person had explained to me what exactly a 'producer' was..!).

Still, I was hurt (and not just from the spanking and the pencil poke!). It wasn't fair! What had I done to Happy Days? I'd been nothing but supportive of the show. How dare they make me wait a week? A whole...lousy...week! When you really thought about it, I was entitled to find out if Pinky was going to be okay.

Do you get angry? Do you know why? I know that for me, my inability to control things (like television networks) and my self-centered focus can feed the anger monster inside. The monster that can take a minor irritation and turn it into a big deal.

My friends, one of the best things to do when angry is check your perspective. Is this thing that you're angry about really a big deal? Or a minor irritation? Before you react, decide if "To Be Continued" is really something that requires all that energy. I mean, thanks to YouTube, I can now watch Fonzie and Pinky for hours. And never see those three little words.

Now if I could just remember where I hid those Barbie clothes!! My sister's still mad as a hornet about that! And I've got the scar to prove it!

It's a Bird...it's a what?!

2009-11-29T14:10:00.000-08:00

In the car the other day, my son asked which super power I'd like.

I thought about that for a moment.

I don't think I'd like to fly as I'm afraid of heights.

I don't think I'd want to be super-strong. My phone would be ringing off the hook with 'friends' who would want me to move their pianos and sofabeds.

On the other hand, super-flexibility would be neat. I'd be very impressive in a Yoga class. And scratching that hard-to-reach spot between my shoulder blades would no longer be a problem!

But that's not the power I'd like.

I would like to read minds.

"Are you sure?" my husband asked, "Do you really want to know what people are thinking?"

"Oh, I'm pretty confident that I already know what most people are thinking," I replied. "I don't think I'd be surprised."

"Do you know who I'd be?" my daughter asked.

"Batman." I responded.

"That's right!" she sounded surprised. "How'd you know?"

I'd know that little piece of information because we had just searched all over the Mall for Batman pajamas. Found some super hero ones, but no Batman.

"Guess what I'm thinking now?" my son said.

"You're hungry. You want something to drink...not water. Soda. And you want to play video games when we get home. But not just any video games. The ones that you got from Jay on Sunday."

His jaw dropped. He whistled lowly.

"How did - wow Mom. Are you sure you're not a super hero?"

Don't be deceived though. Although I'm pretty pleased with my powers of observation and listening...I'm not always that good.

The other night I was working on about fourteen thousand different projects at once. Didn't even notice if my family was at home or not. In fact, if you'd asked me then what they were thinking...well, my mind was elsewhere. I was too wrapped up in my own stuff to pay attention.

Sadly, sometimes that kind of night can turn into a week...or longer. We can get so disconnected from each other that we almost have to start over and introduce ourselves.

"Hi. I'm Carrie. I'm the Mom and wife."

"Oh...yeah. I thought you looked familiar." my husband nodded. "I'm Steve. Husband and father." We shook hands. "Nice home we have here." I said, awkwardly trying to start a conversation.

"Have you met our dog?"

"We have a dog? When did that happen?"

Okay, so that might be a slight exaggeration, but I think you get the point.

My daughter just got her drivers permit. I think to myself, "When did she get to be this age?" Time is moving so fast! Before long she'll be on her own and everything!

Enjoy your time with your family. I realize that they can be some of the most difficult folks to deal with...on the other hand, they won't be around forever. Make the most of your moments together and listen to each other. Maybe you'll become a mind reader.

As for me, I'm now seriously considering time travel as a super power.

No thanks necessary!

2009-11-02T06:18:00.000-08:00

The dream is always the same.

I walk into the kitchen and find Speedy (our big dog) cooking a meal next to Emeril. "Bam!" I hear Emeril say. "Bark!", replies Speedy. What they're preparing looks suspiciously like Gravy Train, but actually smells pretty good. I hear a feminine, delicate "Arf!" behind me and I turn to see Nina (our smaller dog) setting the table.

What follows next is my amazed gazing at a group of hounds and pups gorging themselves on a feast that they've helped prepare. After dinner, a few of them sit around the table and play poker. I take a picture of them. It becomes a huge seller and I become a millionaire. Then I wake up.

It's not a bad dream. But it's not reality.

My reality is as follows: I wake up and stumble blindly into the kitchen. Before I can start the coffee I scoop out some food into the dog dish and give the 'camels' some fresh water. Otherwise, it feels as if I am taking my life into my own hands as I'm surrounded by a pack of wolves!

For some reason, I seem to be the only one in our house that's certifiable....er...certified to feed and water the pets. For some reason, I have to tell the two-legged creatures living with me to do this simple thing. I think that my family believes that 'feeding the dogs' somehow falls under "Mom's Job Description". Listen to me. Just because I taught Speedy to speak doesn't mean I taught him to pour water. I say this over again and again. Speedy is the only one that answers back.

It can be very frustrating, can't it? The feeling of "I am the only one that has to do this!" Each morning I will selfishly think, "If I don't feed those dogs...no one will!" And then the ugliness occurs. I start thinking about ALL THE THINGS I DO for everyone else...and how NO ONE does anything for me!!

It's a lie. I should know better. You should too! Let's face it...we all feel that way once in a while. However, it takes some of us a longer time to stop feeling that way.

Here's something that helps: Do something for someone else without expecting a thank you.

"But Carrie!" I hear you protest, "That's EXACTLY what happens! I do things for others all the time and don't get thanked! How will that be helpful!?"

The problem isn't the lack of thanks. The problem is the expectation of thanks. What's motivating you to do things?

Sometimes I struggle with doing things for others so that they will do things for me. And that's NOT EXACTLY what we're supposed to do.

We're supposed to treat folks the way we'd like to be treated.

My friends, I encourage you to do one selfless thing this week for someone else. Here's an idea: Feed the dogs without being asked to feed them!

If you've taught them to speak, you just might get an unexpected Scooby Doo-ish "Rank Roo" in return!!

Indulge me....just don't overdo it!

2009-09-24T04:55:00.000-07:00

Recently I've been watching a lot of television.

I know this because the other day I woke up and tried to start the coffee maker with the DVD player remote. I also used it to try and fast forward through the argument my kids were having over whose turn it was to "find the tv show listings for Mom" and whose turn it was to "move her to the other side of the couch so the cushions wear evenly".

Another more obvious clue was my poor attempt at trying to fit a 52" tv into a 42" bathroom because I didn't want to miss the season premiere of that new show with whatshername in it.

Now, before you judge me, I have to admit that some of my viewing has been very educational. I've learned how to make my own mustard from a French Chef (well, it looked like mustard. I kind of had a hard time understanding what he was calling it); I can easily identify Mammoth tusks at an archeological dig in Alaska (you know, if I'm ever there!); and I can now tuck point the basement of this old house of mine (although I believe we've already had that done. Maybe I should check with my husband.).

Some of my viewing has been entertaining. I laughed myself silly through an 80's sitcom, an Italian opera, and the weather report. That was some funny stuff right there.

On the other hand, I've also been less than entertained by a lot of the shows I've been watching. Just last week I watched thirteen movies from the 70's that starred Lindsay Wagner, forty five infomercials on weightloss, and twenty seven reality shows.

The good news, however, is that I've spent less time on the computer.

Why is it so easy to over indulge? (A phrase, by the way, I learned from one of those commercials!) I'm not sure I understand why I don't find myself wanting to make my bed over and over...yet I'm willing to sit and watch an NCIS marathon even though I've seen every episode at least twice already!

My husband has a similar problem. The man can do all kinds of mathematical functions and figurings. He measures things and counts things. Multiplies and divides. Until he gets to the grocery store and faces his own Kryptonite. A "five items for $5" sale.

He's come home with sixty seven boxes of spaghetti, three boxes of cereal that no one eats, twenty two boxes of sandwich baggies and yet still can't remember to get the milk I asked for in the first place!

"You know," I say to him, "You don't HAVE to buy five to get the sale price on one item."

"It was a good deal!" he'll respond. We ate pasta for fifty two days straight. The cereal is still sitting in the pantry. The good news there? It's all been separated into individual baggies.

My friends, I propose that this week will be different. I am going to watch less television, make my bed once a day, and send my teenagers to the grocery store.

After all, they know what kind of cereal I like!

I encourage you to consider the things that you're over indulging on in your life and how you might live with less.

Thanks for reading!

The Nature of Things

2009-09-08T06:24:00.000-07:00

Look, I'll be honest. When it comes to nature, I love it. I enjoy being out in it...seeing it's beauty. Smelling the flowers, feeling the warm air.

I'm all for it.

But...and this is a big BUT...

the bugs need to stay outside. You know, where nature is.

That's my rule. If I find one of you critters in my house...well, I can't say for sure that you will live to see the next showing of Ants on HBO.

A couple of days ago, however, I realized that I needed to amend my rule. Add on to it. Make sure that the bugs understand exactly what I'm talking about when I say, "MY HOUSE".

Goes a little something like this:

The party of the first part (that being me) informs the party of the second part (that being bugs) that when the term 'house' or 'home' is mentioned by the party of the first part, she is, in fact, stating the entire property...inside and out. Please make a note of this. Thank you.
A couple of days ago, I noticed these flying insects (about 20 or so of them) hovering low to the ground. They reminded me of bees at first...but I couldn't get a really good look at them. They were in the area where the dogs go out to 'do their business'. I wondered if perhaps they were flies (because of the 'area' in which they were flying around)...but as I said, I couldn't get them to sit still long enough to get a good look at them. I stuck to my thought of bees (or perhaps hornets?) and was concerned that there might be a hive under our deck.

I've seen horrible pictures of these huge ol' hives in bbq grills and yes, under decks. I didn't want my deck to be the next forwarded email sensation.

In a fit of bravado, later in the day, I went outside and didn't see them. I wondered about the hive again and stomped the whole area of the deck...ready to run into the house as soon as I needed to...nothing happened.

The next day...there they were...same bat time...same bat channel. They didn't seem to be bothering the dogs and were, as I mentioned, just kinda flying around low and hovering.

I told my husband about them. After all, bugs are in his job description. I handle the laundry...he takes care of the creepy crawlies. He suggested that perhaps they were ground wasps. I googled ground wasps and found out some info on the web about them.

1) Also called 'cicada killers'. (which sounds very dramatic to me! A movie title of a grand sort! Can't you hear that 'movie guy' doing the trailer for it?)

2) Very practical insects. They help the environment and all. (Yeah, okay...but they still have stingers, right?)

3) Info on the potential nest. A small round hole in the ground. With some dirt kicked up around the area.

Hm...very interesting. While I didn't see any pictures 'exactly' like my bug...I did see enough similarities to think that perhaps this was what we had 'moving in'.

Sunday came and my daughter and I spied them after returning home from church. She stepped on two of them in 'mid-hover' and killed them. Thus supplying us with a closer look. Yeah, they kinda do look like ground wasps.

So...I told Steve that we needed to find the nest and get rid of them. I didn't want the kids or the dogs to be stung by one. Wasps don't play around when they sting. And, unlike their 'cousin' the bee...don't have the decency to die after they sting you. No...they just keep on doing it.

That's when I realized I needed the amendment, you see. After all, I make the house payments on this property. And until I see some cash on my doorstep from those 'cicada killers'...well, they need to re-locate.

Steve poured gasoline into the hole he found yesterday. Stuck a rag in there.

Now we wait and see if that did the trick.

We'll show you who's in control!!

Yep. Feeling pretty large and in charge...that's me. When you google me, you'll find "QUEEN KILLER OF THE CICADA KILLERS!!"

(well, actually it was technically Steve. And Hannah killed two...but hey! Who's writing this??)

I love feeling like I'm in control. It's powerful. It's giddy at times, isn't it? That feeling of 'nothing can stop me!' Not a hovering little wasp-y thing that helps the environment but has tragically picked a bad place to raise a family...not ANYTHING!! (Now I hear the Rocky theme playing in my head...)

Well, this morning I went for a walk up Catfishhead Road. (That's what we named the road. It's a long story...maybe for another time.) It's a little access road that runs next to our defunct railroad tracks.

Well, it was foggy this morning. And very dewy.

As I walked, I noticed in the tall grass there between the road and the railroad tracks...spider webs.

Hundreds of them! I mean, I know that there are a lot of spiders out there...but wow! I had no idea that many of them were lurking in the fields!!!

Just garden spiders. Nothing dangerous. In fact, I think that as spiders go, they're very pretty to see. I just wasn't prepared for a party that size!!

And it was about halfway down the road that I realized something.

I really have very little control over things. I mean, I may be able to kill out one gaggle (hoard, herd, family?) of wasps...but that's about it.

It's humbling. And a little scary. Isn't it?

I mean, I don't know about you, my friend...but I don't always enjoy the feeling of NOT being in control.

The good news is: I know that Someone Else has things well under control.

I find that comforting. Hope you do too!

Thanks for reading!

S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y NIGHT!!

2009-08-09T18:04:00.000-07:00

Right now I'm listening to a current popular tune that I think would make an excellent roller skating rink song.

I wonder if anyone else has considered this? I could mention it to my daughter, but she'd just roll her 15 year old eyes at me and mumble something about how she needs to get my application filled out for the nursing home. She hates it when I bring up 70's-80's music.

Ah well. She'll appreciate me someday, right?

I was five years old the first time I put on a pair of roller skates. It was my birthday. They were the kind that you strapped to your shoes. I remember the feeling of exhilarated terror I felt as I careened around our kitchen, leaving deep nail marks in the countertop.

I really liked skating. My family would travel to Hoopeston frequently to skate at a rink there. I loved the music, the light show, the wooden floor. I remember thinking that when I grew up, I wanted to be one of the 'skating guards'...those teenagers with their whistles and their backwards skating ability. I remember how weird it felt to take off my skates at the end of the evening. That 'lighter than air' way your foot felt. Totally weird.

In junior high, the skating rink in Paxton became the place to go on the weekend for me. I put my big ol' comb in the back pocket of my white painter pants (they were SO COOL looking under the black light!) and I would feather my hair and carefully consider the boys there. Who might be a partner for the "Couples Only" skate? The Eagles or the Bay City Rollers would come over the speakers and we would skate around and around and check out who was making out in the Corner (it was never me!) and I was always surprised when it was time to go home.

Of course, once I had my driver's license, I didn't want to go skating much. And anyway, I think the rink was closed by then, so it didn't really matter.

After I had children, they received passes for the local skating rink. I remember putting on skates again for the first time in years and reacquainting myself with the wheels. It wasn't much different from when I was five...except now the nail marks were in the wall of the rink or the shoulder of a skating guard as I desperately attempted to stay upright.

'It was easier to skate when I was younger,' I remember thinking. 'This is risky business. I could break my wrist or something!'

I think we could all find something that was 'easier' when we were younger. I guess my question to you is: How are you handling the 'risky business' in your life? In most cases, age brings wisdom and there are things that I wouldn't do now that I'm older if you paid me cash money...just because they're too dangerous. Too risky.

However, there's that other side of risk. The safe side. And that, my friends, can be crippling. It can keep you from trying new things. Or trying old things. Like roller skating.

Take my advice. Grab that big ol' comb of yours, put on that old Bay City Roller album and take a risk today! Speaking of albums, I wonder if I can get my daughter to download some disco for me! Now that's risky!!

Truth be Told...

2009-08-08T06:10:00.000-07:00

So...last week or so I started a small group study on this book Truefaced, which is about being real with people. And at about that same time I went to youth group with my kiddos and played Balderdash, which is all about lying to people.

As The Doors said so aptly, people are strange...aren't we?

On the one hand, we want people to accept us for who we are...warts (if you've got 'em...I don't!) and all. And on the other, we're always lying about something...(for instance, not having warts.)

Oh, you disagree? You're not a liar? You tell the truth all the time?

Well, I don't. I freely admit it. I find myself lying constantly...

To my son:

"Why no, Jake. There are no onions in that casserole. Now eat!" (it was an ONION CASSEROLE!!)

To my best friend:

"Your new haircut does not make your butt look big!" (sadly, she'd have a big butt regardless!)

To the girl scout:

"I've already bought two boxes of thin mints. Sorry!" (it was actually 7 boxes. And they were the peanut butter ones that I can never remember the name of...!)

We humans lie.

And one of the first lies we tell ourselves is this: Lying will 'fix' the situation.

Lying doesn't fix anything...in the long run. It has a tendency to complicate things, actually. But it's 'easier' to lie than to be honest sometimes. Isn't it?

"Who broke this vase?" "Not me! It was an alien..."

Kids can tell whoppers of lies, can't they? And why? To avoid getting into trouble, to avoid work, to avoid conflict.

I am a girl. And since girls are typically encouraged by society to avoid conflict, we are taught to do what? Lie.

We girls are taught to be 'kind' to people, aren't we? So we lie and say things to others in order 'to be nice'.

"That shirt looks good on you." "It's not you, it's me." "Your invitation must've been lost in the mail." "No, your feet aren't big. Size 13 is the new 6."

I'm going to cut in here and present the word "Tact" to you. Now tact is what we REALLY need to be taught. Boys and girls alike. And tact isn't about lying...or telling the truth. Tact is about timing.

A definition of tact is this: a keen sense of what to say or do to avoid giving offense; skill in dealing with difficult or delicate situations.

My tactful word is "interesting".

"Mmm...this liver pate' you've made for the first time has an interesting flavor."

"Interesting" is what I use when I am not sure that the truth is wanted by the other person or when I don't want to tell the truth and hurt someone 'at that moment'.

It's not lying. It's not truth. It's...well...avoidance.

For instance...the last thing a bride needs to hear on her wedding day is that white is NOT a good color on her.

Is it going to benefit her at all on that day to tell her that? No. The fact that she looks bad in white should've been pointed out months ago.

What I'm trying to say is that sometimes, conflict is a good thing to avoid. So tact comes into play.

However, tact is NOT supposed to replace truth. As I mentioned, the bride could've been told the truth earlier.

So is truth about timing, then?

Um...no.

Truth is about relationship...and we'll talk more about that later. Think about truth and lies, won't you? Right now, I have to um...do something else. This has been interesting...thanks for reading!

A Family Divided (by four)

2009-07-26T18:06:00.000-07:00

Growing up, we went to the county fair every summer.

I loved it! There were rides, and food. Games, and food. Prizes, and food.

Mmmm. Fair food. I don't know about you, but despite my begging, I could not convince my Mom to make me funnel cakes for breakfast. It just wasn't happening!

And it just wasn't FAIR!

Speaking of that, I feel we've been friends long enough now that I'd like to share something with you. There's a battle going on at our house.

And I, for one, am ready to tear the white pillowcase off of my bed and wave it on a broom handle in surrender.

I cannot do this anymore, you see. It's worn me to a frazzle over the past 13 years and I simply don't have the strength or the math skills, to be honest. I'm tired.

What's the problem, you ask?

There are four people in my home. Four folks who eat together each day. And...each day I have to make sure that the amount of food I cook is divisible by four. You know, so that everyone gets the same amount.

I count olives...and pork steaks...and lettuce leaves. I count brats, and pizza slices, and tacos. Thankfully, no one's questioned my peas or corn distribution! However, just to be on the safe side, I don't purchase raisins or Oreos. It's just too painful!

Do you do this in your home? I am sure I am not alone on this. And I don't really understand why it's such as isssue, as my children are constantly told over and over again that Life Is Not Fair.

I was constantly told that Life Is Not Fair while growing up.

Were you told this? How do you handle it? Because I try, I really try...to make things fair. But the fact of the matter is: hot dogs come in packages of 10, hot dog buns come in packages of 8. The odds are stacked against me. I'm not always going to be able to divide by 4. I cannot guarantee that fairness is always an option.

So what do you do when you feel you've been unfairly treated? When you've been shorted a hot dog bun? Do you get angry? Do you feel sorry for yourself? It's difficult, isn't it, when it appears that everyone else has things going for them and we don't. It's not fair that I work as hard as her and she's promoted. It's not fair that my neighbor has a new car and I still drive this old one. It's not fair that he's well and I'm sick.

My friends, the only consolation I can offer is this: there is ONE fair thing going on in this world. We all experience 'unfairness' in our lives. WE ALL EXPERIENCE IT.

There isn't one person around that hasn't felt they've been unfairly treated at least once or twice or twenty bajillion times. That's the good news. The tricky thing is trying to remember that the next time we want a hot dog...or a funnel cake for breakfast.

Think about that the next time you find yourself faced with 10 brats for 4 people. Who packaged these things?? Thanks for reading!

A Limited Understanding

2009-06-13T05:52:00.000-07:00

This is not the first time it's happened.

And what frustrates me the most about it, is that it happens at the WORST possible time!

The other day, I had a smarillion things to do. And like most people, I was trying to save myself some time and go a little over the speed limit.

Okay, maybe a lot over the speed limit.

However, it wasn't long before I found myself "stuck" behind someone who was actually obeying the law and not speeding.

"COME ON!" I threw my head back and wailed, "I HAVE PLACES TO SEE AND PEOPLE TO GO!"

This 'people' wasn't 'going', though. At least not over 55 miles an hour.

"AUGH!" I groaned. It felt as if my van had just stopped in the middle of the road. Like there had been some sort of Star Trek time/space continuum thing...and I was frozen on Ridge Road. Unable to move ahead. 'Quick, Scotty,' I thought, 'Beam me up and over this slowpoke so I can get to where I have to be!'

Finally, after seventeen years, three months, two weeks, nine days, fourteen hours, twenty-two minutes and five seconds...I was able to pass this person safely.

As I drive by, this gal smiles at me and waves.

I do not wave back. She is oblivious to the torment that she has caused me. I have a lot to do! Doesn't she understand that there are only 24 hours in the day and I've already used up EIGHT of them! The items on my To Do list are barely checked off! I'm behind schedule! I don't have time to wave! Besides, my cell phone is ringing...!

What a day that was! I was frazzled that entire time. Trying to get things checked off, adding more things to the list, pushing myself to do more.

But someone was trying to tell me something that day...

As I passed that gal on the highway, I saw a speed limit sign fly by.

At the grocery store, I was going to stock up on shredded Cheddar Cheese and grabbed five packages. Then I saw the "Limit Three per Customer" sign and had to put two packages back.

At the mall, The Limited was having a sale. On tanks, not cheese.

Later, while watching t.v., I saw that a cable channel was running an Outer Limits marathon. Then a commercial came on and told me that I could buy this amazing item that was being offered at this amazing price 'for a limited time only'.

And finally, when I was breaking up yet another argument between my children over whose turn it was to be on the Playstation, I heard myself saying, "That's it! I have reached my limit! I'm tired of the arguing! Now give me the guitar and I'LL be the Hero!"

And that's when it hit me.

I have limitations. Limits.

The word 'limit' is often looked at as a 'bad' thing. We want to buy more, drive faster, spend fifteen hours on the Playstation wailing on that Aerosmith song.

Okay, maybe only I do those things. What I'm realizing though, is that limits aren't bad. They can actually be very healthy. We can't do it all. We need to have boundaries. Too much of a good thing is indeed, too much! Setting boundaries on our time, money and items is not a bad thing! By staying within a boundary, for instance, I still get what I need. I get enough. Not too much.

Think about that, my friends, while I set my timer for fifteen minutes of Guitar Hero. That's my new limit! Thanks for reading!

Go Ahead....make my day...

2009-05-24T20:04:00.000-07:00

I approached the customer service desk with some trepidation.

Why, you ask? Well, I'll tell you. And because you're my friends, I'm going to tell you the truth and admit something about myself.

I don't like dealing with customer service desks. I really don't. I mean, nine times out of ten I don't have the right receipt (it was the one I accidentally stuck my chewed gum into), or the item I want to return cannot possibly ever be returned (on a particular 'bad Mommy' day, I spent 27 minutes trying to get the gal at Best Mart to take my temper tantrum throwing three year old off my hands), or there's no one actually at the customer service desk (seriously, it was like a ghost town! I think, at one point, I even saw a tumbleweed go by!).

At any rate, those are the reasons I generally dread going to the desk. However, today I was going to try something different. Because, you see, it's my understanding that insanity is doing the same things over and over and expecting different results. So today...I'd try something new. I formulated a plan. It wasn't very complicated. It was a simple, easy to do plan. This time, as I approached the desk, I was going to do something I hadn't done before.

I was going to smile.

That was my plan. A big ol' grin.

So, as I was saying, I slowly approached the desk, smiling. The gal behind the counter was taking care of a customer when another person stepped up to her and demanded attention from the clerk. She (the clerk) was amazing! She smiled and said in a friendly voice, "I'll be right with you. I'm taking care of this customer right now."

Well, the other gal was having none of that, and continued speaking...at which point the customer service clerk politely asked the other customer to wait a moment and handled the 'squeaky wheel'. She got her out of there quickly and took care of the first customer. I patiently waited. (After all, I was just relieved that there WAS actually someone behind the counter.) And I still smiled.

As the first customer moved away and I stepped forward, the gal behind the desk began muttering as she tidied up her area. It sounded a little like this:

"Tell me that you need--garbled mumbling--mezzarazza something--why don't you--something something--growling--that's the last time I--ragafraggle--"

She saw me standing there at the counter then.

"Oh," she said mechanically, "Welcome to Best Mart. How can I help you?"

My jaw beginning to ache a little from the smile, I say, "Well, you see-" and I hand her the receipt that I managed to keep my chewing gum out of this time.

"Can you believe some people?" she says, interrupting. "I mean, what do they expect? Am I just supposed to drop everything for them? Just create stuff out of thin air for them? It's like, you know, they want me to wave some sort of magic wand and POOF! There's their stuff! I mean, what has happened to common courtesy, I ask you?"

"Well, I - " I began, my smile faltering a little. Just then the store phone rang.

"Excuse me." she said. And she answered the phone. And I continued to wait...patiently. I found myself pushing up at the corners of my mouth a bit. It looked less like a smile and more like I had a severe denture issue.

Still, I attempted the grin. And marveled as I watched the clerk manage to talk on the phone and take my item at the same time. With ruthless efficiency I see her print out a new receipt, staple one to the other, ask me to sign on the dotted line, and hand me back my cash while hanging up the phone.

Without missing a beat, she continues our conversation.

"People just don't know how to treat people nicely anymore. I don't understand it. It's like there ought to be a class on courtesy! But you know what? I'll bet no one would show up!"

I stand there, receipt in hand, slightly smiling. I look down at my purse on the counter.

"Well, thank you!" I manage to say, taking two steps back.

"SEE? No one says that anymore! Thank you! You made my day!" she says. "And go Cards!"

"What?" I ask, confused. And then I look down and see that I'm wearing my Cardinals tee shirt.

"Yes," I respond weakly. "Go Cards! Well, you have a good day."

"You too! Thanks for being such a great customer!"

As I sat in the car, I pondered over what had just occurred. I hadn't done anything truly remarkable. All I had done was smile.

And I think that smile made a difference.

My friends, consider smiling at just one person today. Just one. See what happens. You might make someone's day!

The MOREL of the Story

2009-05-14T05:28:00.000-07:00

First of all, I think he was lying about the gunshot scaring them into showing themselves.

I think he was.

I think...

Still to this day, I'm not positive. I mean, I wanted to believe him. Because I trusted his judgement on so many things, I wanted to trust it on this. After all, he'd been doing it for years. He must know what he's talking about, right? So, it kinda made sense, in a way.

I know that for myself though, if someone fired a pistol around me, I'd want to hide. Not show myself.

But he assured me that it would work. The gunshot would scare them into showing themselves.

So he fired the pistol...
and later that night, while we ate, I wondered at his practices...but enjoyed the result.

I learned a lot that day, in the woods.

And mushroom hunting has never been the same...

You see, my friends, several years ago my father-in-law Gordon took me mushroom hunting for the first time. In fact, the whole family went along. The more folks, the merrier! The more folks, the more mushrooms!

Do you like mushrooms? I like mushrooms. But they're not an "in between" food, are they? I mean, you either like them...or you don't.

And as I said, I like them. So the idea of hunting for them was intriguing. I'd never done it before. How hard could it be, right?

We headed out one fine morning in April to this patch of trees that belonged to a friend of Gordon's. He'd let him hunt on the property. I don't know if Gordon paid his friend back in mushrooms or what, but this had been going on for a while, because Gordon was very familiar with the land.

However, it was not easy to get to the land of 'shrooms. We had to hike along a fenceline for what felt like 12.7 miles. It wasn't like there was a sidewalk there; it was work to get over those big ol' dirt clods! And those big ol' dirtclods were really more like mud...so I was hot and a little sweaty before we even started to actually hunt. I began to wish I had some sort of native guide...or a pack mule or something...

Eventually we entered the woods. It was like another world. Dark, quiet. Gordon gave me some tips on hunting.

"Kick the logs first. Then step over them." Gordon directed.

"Does that help with finding mushrooms?" I asked.

"Scares the snakes!"

Great.

I'm not going to find mushrooms now. I'm going to find some snake neighborhood! Um, maybe mushroom hunting is not for me after all.

"Once you find the first one," Gordon continued. "You'll see 'em all over the place!"

SNAKES? Once I find my first SNAKE? EEEEEK!

But he was talking about the mushrooms.

"And be careful. Some mushrooms look like Morels, but they're poisonous."

Great. As if I wasn't worried enough about the snakes...now there are 'bad' mushrooms to be on the look out for!

I can't really explain the joy and excitement I felt when I found my first Morel. It wasn't very big. And I could've sworn that I'd looked in that same spot about 27 times...but there it was!
"Is this one?" I asked, gingerly holding it up.

"Yep!" Gordon clapped me on the shoulder. "You found one! Now let's scare the rest of 'em out of the ground!"

And he fired his pistol into the air.

And I about wet myself.

It was almost too much excitement for one person to experience.

I'll never forget that day in the woods. You know what? We found enough mushrooms to make one meal. Just one. It was a lot of work and effort for what seemed like very little payoff...but they were SO delicious!

There's something, my friends, to be said for working hard towards a goal. There's a delicious reward at the end of the day. What we have the hard time with, however...is the job itself. Because the job can be muddy, lengthy, and possibly full of snakes and gun shots. It can make us weary, and we can discourage easily...because sometimes all of our hard work doesn't look like much.

Stay strong, though. Here, have a Morel. I just picked it.

The Easy Button

2009-04-29T05:47:00.000-07:00

There are few things I'm scared to talk about with folks. I love swapping a good grandchild story, or sharing really bad jokes...sometimes I even enjoy a rousing discussion of an economics class syllabus, or a healthy back-and-forth about the subtle differences in brands of house paint.

Still, I realize that there are some things that you're NOT supposed to talk about. Ever.

Like politics...or religion...or The Donald's hair.

People have very strong feelings on these things. Whether they want to or not. Countries have been known to war over these very issues.

And there is a topic that everyone has an opinion about...good or bad...right or wrong...and it is WEIGHT.

I hate to talk about it. I would much rather have to endure Chinese water torture or a Barbra Streisand concert....than talk about weight. Loss or gain. Diets, plans, food guides, point systems...these things can, within seconds, reduce me (no pun intended!) to tears.

My desire is not to just see the outside of someone. To judge their abilities based on the way they look....because I know....I KNOW...that we don't look the same forever...we are constantly changing.

Just like the information on weight constantly changes. And do you know why?

I think it's because we want an Easy Button.

We want things to change easily...without much effort on our part. We don't like the situation we're in...we hate our boss, or our couch, or our size...and we wish these irritable items would just 'go away'...like Kevin in Home Alone...sometimes we want to make our family just....disappear.

It is frustrating, though...when things do not happen overnight. When we wake up the next morning and it's the SAME! And sometimes, we scream inside. Because the Easy Button didn't work this time...

About two weeks ago, I decided that I need to do something (besides slapping an Easy Button) about my weight. And I've been keeping track of the good choices I've made...in an effort to encourage myself to keep going. To stay on track. I even had someone on Sunday ask if I'd been losing weight! I was feeling pretty good about the way things were going...feeling good about myself...

and last night I visited a nursing friend of mine who informed me that she too, is trying to lose weight and she'd just purchased a new scale...would I like to use it?

Since I felt pretty confident about myself...I thought, "no big deal"...and I assuredly stepped over to the scale and weighed in.

And in the blink of an eye...in one small second of time...everything changed.

When I saw the number on the scale...and really considered the task at hand...I got very frightened.

All of the encouraging thoughts I'd had went right out the window just then.

Because I realized...that this will NOT be an easy thing to do. It WILL require work. Diligence. Determination. Effort. Sacrifice.

So...what to do? Give up? Grit my teeth and dig in? Ignore what truth I saw there on the scale and pretend that everything is 'okay'? Listen to the lies that tell me that even the small things I've done don't matter...because that number is SO big?

My friends, what do you do?

Sometimes, the truth can hurt us. Especially when it means changing something...without an Easy Button. It is not pleasant. It is not...easy.

Politics, though they seem to be ever-changing...are basically the same as they ever were.

Religion, while one is in the spotlight more than the other at times...doesn't really change.

The Donald's hair...sadly...will never change. I promise you that.

But you, my friend, CAN change. You can.

You just can't do it all on your own.

Lucky for you, there's Someone who can help...

Everyone Needs a Kennel to Call Their Very Own

2009-04-02T19:41:00.000-07:00

I hate to say it, but yes...it's true.

I yelled at the kids the other day.

Oh....don't judge me. I had my reasons...all perfectly reasonable ones.

It was Spring Break. They were being what the French refer to as TRES' annoying. And I wanted quiet.

So I hollered.

(and yes, I see the irony. Thanks for pointing that out!)

Speedy, our dog, took his big ol' dog be-hind off the couch and quickly trotted it into our bedroom.

Into his kennel.

That's where he goes when he wants to feel safe. Loud noises generally make him move in that direction...or he'll go there when he wants to protect something. Like his Chewie.

It got me to thinking.

Do you have a kennel?

Not necessarily for your dog...altho I highly recommend one.

Where do you go when you feel threatened? Do you have a safe place to lie down in?

See, sometimes...sometimes we need to get away from the loud voices. Sometimes we need to go where we can breathe easier. Or regroup. Sometimes we need to go to a place where the worries, the pressures, the stresses of the world don't seem so pressing.

For some of us, this place is called Hawaii.

:)

For the rest of us poorer slobs, well....we need to locate somewhere closer...

and you know, I'm not necessarily talking about an actual place...so much as I am about boundaries. About keeping things balanced, maybe.

We are hit with a lot of stuff in the course of a day. A lot of 'mom's hollering at the kids in the house'.

What do you do then? Do you join in the yelling? Do you run out of the house?

Do you go to your kennel?

The more I think about it, perhaps this isn't the best analogy I could come up with. But what I do see when I watch Speedy is kind of interesting. He doesn't stay in the kennel for very long during those times. And he seems to be pretty well behaved for the most part. Perhaps he recognizes when a 'fight' isn't something he needs to be involved in...

I dunno...it's just making me think today...

Simply Put...

2009-03-19T06:10:00.000-07:00

It's a day until the official start of Spring here.

Do you want to know how I know that?

No...it's not the arrival of robins. Or the daffodils blooming.

It's not the grass getting greener or the temperature rising.

I can tell that Spring is almost here because everywhere I look...I see...

farmers.

Yep. It's true! They're everywhere!

Getting their fields ready for planting.

In fact, I had to pull over the other day so that a tractor that's got more square feet than my house could get across a bridge. The farmer waved at me as he passed. I waved back.
It took 30 seconds out of my day to do that. To pull over and let him go first.

Not a big deal.

Or is it?

So often in our busy days we get caught up in our stuff and can easily negate the 30 second rule.

What's the 30 second rule, you ask?

Something I just made up, actually. Thanks for asking! And it doesn't have anything to do with eating dropped m and m's...

My friends, take a moment (we'll call it...oh, I don't know....30 seconds!) to time out 30 seconds.

It's okay. I'll wait. I've got time.

(whistles the "Jeopardy" tune to herself)

Did you see how LONG 30 seconds really is? It's a nice bit of time.

Now think about how often you may say during the course of your day "I don't have time for that!"

The truth is: we all have been given the same amount of time in our day. And more truth is: we usually waste a lot of it on what we consider to be 'important' things. Like criticism. Or complaining. Or justifying. Or ranting.

But enough about me....let's talk about you!!

Do something nice for someone today that takes just 30 seconds. Send a nice email message...or give someone a hug. Let that farmer get around you with that big disk thing...

You'll feel better. And so will someone else!

And the best thing is: you'll never miss that 30 seconds of complaint!

A Long Way from Depressed

2009-03-10T07:16:00.000-07:00

When I look back on it...the signs were there. I just was too optimistic, I guess.

I should've known it would cause pain.

I should've known that sacrifices would have to be made.

I should've known that I would be taken advantage of by their smooth words and innocent eyes.

I should've known.

But, as I mentioned, I was too optimistic. I thought that this time...this time it would be different!

This time I would be able to do it!

This time...this one small moment in my existence...I would be free to enjoy it as I wished. No judgement. No one to answer to...just me and my Hershey Bar.

I was going to eat the entire bar. And like it!

But, sadly, I'm here today my friends, to tell you that that was not the case. It simply was not meant to be, I guess.

You see, chocolate is a big deal at our house.

A very.big.deal.

And I gotta say that it wouldn't matter if my children had just eaten a fourteen course meal (with double desserts no less!!)...they will still sit there and demand that I share my Hershey Bar with them.

Who knew that those little squares of milk chocolate would have so much power?

Because, my friends, I don't like to share my Hershey Bars!

Not.at.all.

You know, the financial news these days is so depressing. I can't hardly listen or watch any economic news whatsoever. I get so glum and find myself sighing heavily and wanting to just run and hide under my bed for a few months. Money is tight right now, (not that we were ever swimming in it in the first place!)and disciplining ourselves about spending is a daily...sometimes hourly exercise of will.

There are so many things I feel I'm doing without. I can't buy the things I want for my kids...for myself...for my husband. I am tired of casseroles, of store brand toilet paper, of counting every penny. I was never very good with numbers anyways!!

I am tired. I am depressed. I am frustrated. I am scared. I am quietly screaming inside at times...and yet....

And yet....I am encouraged. I am hopeful. I am looking for joy in the small things.

And I'm sharing my Hershey Bars.

Here's why:

There is a book I read a few years ago called "A Long Way from Chicago" by Richard Peck. It takes place during the Depression in Central Illinois. Two children are sent from their home in Chicago to their Grandma Dowdel's home right here in our area. The actual location is never really mentioned, but Piatt County is...so it's close to home.

Grandma Dowdel is an amazing woman. She uses all the items she has at her disposal (which isn't much!) to help others out...even if they don't seem to 'deserve' help. She feeds some bums, for example...when the Sheriff just wants them to move on. She helps a neighbor who's losing their home and belongings. And one of my favorite moments of the book is when she takes the kids to Aunt Puss's house.

Here's an exerpt:
Aunt Puss was by many years the oldest person we'd ever seen up till then. Bald as an egg, but she needed a shave. And not a tooth in her head.

"Who's them chilrun with you?" she demanded of Grandma.

"Just kids I found along the crick bank," Grandma said, to our surprise. "They was fishing."

"I'm hongry, girl." Aunt Puss pulled her shawl around her, "You hightailed it out of here after breakfast, and I ain't seen hide nor hoof of you since."

"She ain't seen me for a week." Grandma muttered,"But she forgets." Then she called out to Aunt Puss: "Catfish and fried potatoes and onions, vinegar slaw, and a pickled peach apiece. And more of the same for your supper."

"I suppose it beats starving," Aunt Puss snapped. "Hop to it, girl."

I thought I might faint. No one spoke to Grandma like that. And lived.

"Grandma,is that nasty old lady your aunt?" I asked in the kitchen.

"Naw, I was hired girl to her before I got married."

"What did she pay you for that, Grandma?"

"Pay? She didn't pay me a plug nickel. But she fed me."

I thought about that.

"And now you feed her," I said, but Grandma didn't reply. "You take her food every week, don't you Grandma?"

"Generally a good big roast chicken. She can gum on that for days. It keeps her out of the poor farm, and it gives me a quiet day in the country. That's a fair swap." Then her jaw clenched in its way. "But it's just private business between her and me. And I don't tell my private business."

My friends, when it is dark, share some light. When you think you that you have little to spare...think of the ones with nothing at all. Because there is something really satisfying about sharing. Oh, it can hurt a little, I guess...if you choose to dwell on what you're missing. If you choose to look at your selfishness.

But if you take a look at what you're giving...well, it can be almost better than having an entire Hershey Bar to yourself. And if you keep it your 'private business'...it will make you feel even better!

Share with someone today. Share your time...or your money...or your seat...or your Hershey Bar.

Here, I'll start. Have a piece of mine...

I can't get no...or can I?

2009-02-11T08:03:00.000-08:00

Satisfaction.

I can't seem to get any of it. And like the Stones so aptly sang, "...I'm on a losing streak."

I CAN'T GET NO.....NO NO NO!!!!!
At least it feels that way.

There is so much on my mind right now. Money, cars, kids, money, illnesses, jobs, money, government, church, money...the list goes on. Feel free to insert your own stuff in there.

My brain is full. There's a lot of hurt out there. And inside myself. It can be overwhelming. Lately, it seems that nothing I'm doing makes much of a difference. I feel I have very little control...and mostly what I'm left with is this deep feeling of dis-satisfaction.

Both with myself and others. With life in general.

So what do you do with that?
What did I do with that?
I'll tell you....

I went where I always go when I want questions answered.

Wikipedia?

Nope. Although I venture there repeatedly...

A therapist?

Huh uh. Not that there's anything wrong with them...

I went to my magic 8 ball. Yeah, that's right. I went to my magic 8 ball and I asked, "Will I ever be satisfied?"

And I shook it....turned it over....looked...

and it said, "It is decidedly so."
Cool, I thought. Excellent.

But...seven and 1/2 minutes passed and I did NOT feel decidedly satisfied. Stupid, cheapo 8 ball isn't that magic at all...I'm not sure I trust that information.

So I went to my other source.

My Bible.

We've been studying the book of Matthew at church recently. So I went there first. And this is what I read in my sidenotes of Matthew 5:

"Jesus promises that satisfaction will come to those who seek the good things of God. He says that they will be filled - not with the material goods of this world, not with an easy way of life, not with something of limited value that can be taken away from them...but with the joy and contentment that comes from doing God's will."

Matthew 5:6 says: Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.

Hmmm....I think about what God's will is...what that looks like for me right this minute...I mull that over in my head...then turned to another section in my Bible. I have a devotional Bible that I have been reading in lately. And when I turned to Wednesday's (todays) reading, I read this:

"What does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God." Micah 6:8

I raise an eyebrow. If you do not believe that God can speak to you with His Word...then you are missing out on a wonderful conversational opportunity.

Have I been humble lately? No, not really. If I had, I don't think my dis-satisfaction would be so evident. I obviously feel that I am somehow 'DUE' to have these things I want so badly...and even if they aren't 'bad' things...they are still things that I'm trying to control somehow...in all my 'human greatness'.

Woo.Hoo. Like I can somehow Do God's Job.

I can't do that. I cannot do God's job for Him.

But....

I can do His Will...I can act justly, and walk humbly...and love.

Three things that cover the Ten Commandments, the Golden Rule...and the Sermon on the Mount.

Wow.

And what do you think will happen then? Will I find that satisfaction?

It is decidedly so...

and God told me that. Not the 8 ball! :)

I'm praying that you will find Satisfaction in Him today...

The Dog Arguer?

2009-01-26T06:03:00.000-08:00

Well, it's Monday morning. I'm checking out my to do list for the day. And I'm arguing with my dog. Kinda looks a little like this:

Speedy: I want a chewie.

Me: You cannot have one.

Speedy: I want a chewie.

Me: It isn't happening, dog.

Speedy: I want a chewie.

Me: Go.Away.

Speedy: I want a chewie.
(I stare at him for a long moment. You can literally hear the Western showdown music playing. My eyes squint. He cocks his head to the side and uses his 'cute face'. I square my jaw. He wags his tail. And I say...in my best Clint Eastwood voice:)

Me: Eat the breakfast that's in your bowl, punk. And maybe, if you're good, I'll give you a chewie later.
(Speedy stares at me for a second or two. And then begins to eat his breakfast.)
Me: Good dog.

I tell you, my friends...that there are days when I am beggin' for my chewie at breakfast. I haven't done anyhing to earn the chewie. I haven't done anything to NOT earn a chewie. I just want it. And I want it now!

Waiting is awful, isn't it? Friday night my daughter and I went to the movies. And
there was a line to get in. Apparently, this particular theatre has only 2 people working on tickets on a Friday night...and what's worse...I was told that the movie began at 7:30 p.m....but the sign at the theatre said 7:10 p.m. It was 7:20 p.m. I HATE BEING LATE FOR MOVIES!! So I feel myself start to panic a little inside. "Let's go, people...let's go!" I say under my breath. Finally, after what feels like 4,000 hours...we get our tickets and go. And the movie hadn't started yet. I'd been anxious. And it was a waste of my time.

Was Speedy anxious, I wonder? I should ask him. You see, the kids and my hubby think it's funny that I talk to the dog. And he talks back. We converse. We share ideas and opinions. We contemplate the stars and the subtle differences between vanilla ice cream and french vanilla ice cream. But mainly, seriously, really....we argue about the chewie.

Yeah, that's pretty much it. And when I give him a chewie...do I get a thank you? Rarely. Sometimes, for fun...I ask for the chewie back.

That doesn't go over well. Suddenly, mild mannered Speedy turns into Savage Beast of a DOG Speedy! RAWWWR! It's a little scary.

My friends, the sobering thought here is: sometimes Speedy and I have a lot more in common than sharing the same address and fondness for ice cream. I don't want to wait. I want my chewie RIGHT NOW! And if/when I get the chewie...I can almost guarantee that I am not eagerly interested in giving it back.

And sadly, sometimes I do not say thanks.

Waiting is hard. Working is hard. Being denied your chewie on your time is not easy.

Are you tired of arguing? Can you be satisfied just eating your breakfast for a little while longer?

Oh, and here's another thing to remember: I love Speedy. I love him with a passion sometimes. And there are times when I want to just get up and give him the chewie. And there are moments when he gets two...just for fun.

I think he knows that. I should ask him.

There is Someone, my friends...that doesn't want to argue with you. He wants to spend time with you. And He cares deeply for you.
His chewies...by the way...are well worth the wait.

SPEEDY! STOP BARKING AT ME! I'm trying to blog here! Oh, for the love of...I gotta go! Have a great day!

Maybe Mrs. Tuggle was right...

2009-01-22T06:25:00.000-08:00

Help me out here people. How can folks run in -44 below temperatures? I could, I guess, if I were running towards say, a warm, inviting Taco Bell....or perhaps just running to my car to get out of the cold.

How do they do it? It boggles my mind. I can come up with 465,093,123 reasons not to do that. Not to run in this weather.

Who am I kidding? I don't run. Ever.

You see, I've never been very interested in exercise.

Yeah, I can hear you gasping in surprise. Take it easy on the sarcasm, okay? Knock it off.

Even as a baby, I didn't really exert myself. Wasn't one of those amazing kids that you see walking around at 3 1/2 months. Nope. I preferred to take it easy. Maybe drag myself along if I had no other option. Used my baby cuteness to get myself picked up and carried around. Did that until I was twelve. Yeah. Seriously.

There's the reason my name is what it is. I am supposed to be carried!

Sure, C. Whatever helps you to get to sleep at night. Aren't you a little big to be carried now? You know, if you would do a little exercise...like maybe, oh I don't know....run?

Seriously, I said knock it off.

Anyways, like I mentioned, exercise and me...we don't get along. The exercises that I actually do somewhat enjoy (like swimming) aren't possible right now due to money mostly. I just don't have the cash available to join the Y or whatever. And yeah, I know that sounds a lot like an excuse. But I don't care. And you know what? Chalupas are cheaper...

But...thanks to dictionary.com, I now know why I don't get along with physical exertion.

It's training. It's putting forth strength. It's effort. It's practice. It's...

It's sweaty, y'all. And tiring. And requires a good deal of discipline to be really effective in the long term.

Discipline. Oooooh. There's a word for you! I looked up "discipline" in my Webster's Dictionary and found this:

Discipline - (noun) PUNISHMENT.

Ah...dictionary.com must be written by someone who exercises...because it lists 'punishment' as the number 3 definition!

PUNISHMENT.

Not a good word. Look it up and you find "Suffering, pain, penalty, p.e. class".

Okay. So I lied. You won't find "p.e. class" there. But you will find a picture of Mrs. Tuggle, my jr. high gym teacher.

It's not pretty.

Punishment, I mean. Not Mrs. Tuggle. Although I have to admit that the woman was not the cutest banana in the bunch.

See, my problem is...I don't like pain. I don't enjoy suffering. I'm not that into p.e. class. In fact, p.e. class felt kinda like being on a chain gang.

And who wants to do that? Who volunteers for the chain gang?

No one.

But here's the kicker. I need discipline. I need training. I need to do push ups because that which doesn't kill me...makes me stronger, right?

Push ups kill me. Even the thought of push ups makes me light-headed and a bit freaked out.

I think one of my problems with this is perfectionism. I think I have to be just like that gal who's been running for 40 years and has a negative body mass index number. The gal that's running in -40 below temps. And smiling.

I blame an absence of oxygen for the grin. I do. Unless she's running say, to a Taco Bell...

So what does discipline take?

Small, little, wee steps. Baby steps. And it takes time. You have to do it every day. Every day. Small steps every day. For 40 years.

It seems a little daunting.

Daunting, by the way, is defined as dismay.

And...unfortunately, that's what I feel when I think of exercise. Not anticipation. Not enthusiasm.

Dismay.

Like I'm missing out on something better by taking the time to exercise.

Do you ever feel that way about something that disciplines you? Like budgeting, or smaller food portions...or waiting to purchase that big screen t.v.?

We don't like to wait. We don't want to hear that things take time. I mean, my perfectionism tells me that I should be able to have that body type NOW. With little effort or time.

Seriously?

I know. It's dumb, isn't it? But I know I'm not the only one that struggles with those sorts of thoughts.

We get overwhelmed by the task ahead, don't we? So we choose to not do it...or put it off. Thinking what? That somehow, down the road, the Chalupas we ate at Taco Bell will just melt off on their own?

My friends, I encourage you to take one small step towards a discipline today. I will. And you know what?

I will try not to focus on the sweat too much...sheesh...where's Mrs. Tuggle when you need her??

Death of a Toaster

2009-01-06T05:47:00.000-08:00

It's a new year. A new month. There is a glorious, wonderful expectant feeling in the air.

THIS YEAR...THINGS ARE GOING TO BE DIFFERENT!

And boy howdy...that, my friends...is true. I'm not pyschic...but I know that I can say that sentence above with confidence. You, regardless of age, race, religion, gender, education, experience, dog person, cat person...

Your year, my friend...THIS YEAR...THINGS ARE GOING TO BE DIFFERENT.

Write it on your calendar. Stencil it on your wall in your kitchen. Make it a scrolling marquee on your computer screen saver. Scrapbook it. Whatever.

It's a fact.

The question is not...will this year be different? The question is: How will I handle the changes?

It was October, 1986. I was a freshman in college at Millikin that fall. Talk about change! I had a 'new home' in a dorm room, a 'new roommate' from the Chicago area that I was still trying to get to know, new classes, new teachers (oh, wait...they're PROFESSORS now!), new friends were being made. That fall EVERYTHING was new! Everything was different. It was a little overwhelming...but I was really trying to see the positive side of things.

And then my Grandma Sybil died. Suddenly.

Something different. Something new. Something unexpected.

I went home for the funeral. I thought I was handling things pretty well. I mean, as well as one handles the death of a grandparent. I read her last letter to me several times. I remembered the wonderful times we'd had at her house as kids. All 'typical' or 'classic' mourning stuff.

Then my Dad called to tell me that they were cleaning out Grandma's apartment and was there anything I wanted furniture wise?

Yes! Yes there was! Two things. A round table(George Washington style, I think...is what Antiques Roadshow calls it) and her toaster.

Her magic toaster.

As a child, staying overnight at Grandma Sybil's was just about the best thing in the world. She made us milkshakes...and played Pollyanna with us...and Seven Up...and made us watch Lawrence Welk.

It was a blast! And mornings were amazing! Because of the magic toaster!

This toaster was different from every other toaster I'd seen in my seven years of life. This toaster DIDN'T HAVE A BUTTON! There was no button to push down! You set a piece of bread into the slot...and it sank gracefully, noiselessly down...out of sight...and then, as you waited in anticipation...toast would slowly appear...rising out of the heat of the machine silently. No dinging sound...no jumpy toast. Just....magic toast.

Excellent with some Skippy peanut butter and a glass of milk.

So I got that table and toaster. And for 22 wonderful years...I've been watching toast rise out of that machine...and I have to say:

I still think of it as a magic toaster! It, to this day, still causes me to behave in a somewhat childlike fashion. I'll actually stand there and watch the bread sink down...and wait....and watch toast rise up!

Well, I did. Until Christmas Eve. That's when I...killed the toaster.

I guess, looking back, I should be glad that it wasn't a bigger fire and all. I lit a pastry thing on fire in the toaster...and now it doesn't work anymore.

I know. It's a stinkin' toaster, Carrie. GET OVER IT!

Here's the thing: the past couple of weeks, I've been really down about it. And I think it's because of a couple of things. One, I'm struggling with the fact that I'm missing my toaster...and two: part of me has felt that by having the toaster work...having it 'be alive' so to speak...that Grandma was still 'alive'. I mean, I know she's not...perhaps I'm not explaining that well.

So what have I learned? I am grieving all over again. Mourning. Because it's different in my kitchen now. I have a different toaster. And while I fully appreciate it for what it is...it isn't magic. Something's missing.

Acceptance is hard. And just yesterday, I talked to someone who thinks that maybe...they can fix the old toaster.

But you know what? Part of me doesn't want that. Part of me thinks that it's TIME for a change. That I need to have a new toaster now. I'm old enough to handle it.

I am keeping the Magic Toaster. It's on top of my kitchen cabinet with some other antiques. It is...a part of me. Even if it is a simple kitchen appliance.

I'm sure most of us have things like my toaster around us.

Change is hard. Different isn't always a good thing.

But attitude, my friends...attitude is everything. I know, for a fact, that Magic Toaster or not...I am still the same goofy gal I've been.

Wait, maybe I'm not. Maybe I AM different! In fact, by losing my toaster...I understand loss better. So my loss might help me to understand your loss.

If the things in our lives didn't experience change...we wouldn't grow.

That's what makes toasters amazing in the first place! They change bread, right??!!

Time to eat some breakfast. Let me know what's different in your 2009...

That's why it's called a PRESENT!

2008-12-16T05:43:00.000-08:00

I want to talk this morning about your holiday spending.

Not your money. In fact, if your money sitch is anything at all like mine, you probably don't have much to spend.

I want to talk about a different kind of spending...the 24/7 kind.

Yeah, that's right. The hours in your day. Your.Time.

Why?

Cuz it's about time!...(guffaws and slaps knee)

Okay...(sighs), here's the deal. At Christmastime, I go into countdown mode. Now, I'm not sure if it comes from the Peppermint Candy Advent Calendars that I ate candy from daily as a child or if it's the day limits on sales (Thurs, Fri., and Sat at Kohl's!), or simply because it's the last month of the year...but I'm very aware in December of how little/much time I have.

See, I have time problems. I can hyper-focus on one thing and spend hours messing with it (like computer time...or rearranging my record albums as a teen, or reading an entire book in a day)...or I can become easily distracted by other projects as I try to focus on one....so that nothing really gets accomplished.

To help keep me 'in the here and now' I use a timer. The timer comes in handy. If I get easily distracted and want to 'move on' to something else, I have to wait until the timer goes off. If, on the other hand, I am deeply engrossed in something...the timer goes off and reminds me to move on to the next thing now.

My focus is improving. I'm finding myself staying in the moment. Which is good, because I also have a problem with procrastination.

But we're not gonna deal with that problem right this minute. :)

There's another timing issue that I also deal with on a regular basis. I float easily from the past to the future to the past again and suddenly the whole day is gone!

I thought I was the only one, but as I watched A Christmas Carol the other night, I realized (like Scrooge did), how important it is for us to spend our time mostly in the present.

We cannot change the past. What happened has happened. And regardless of whether you're focusing on good times or bad; you cannot spend too much of your precious time in the past.

Scrooge also got an eye-opener of a future. But it was only one possibility. And so often we too can 'stare' at one possibility of the future and fret and worry and lament about it when it's not even happened! Again, you should consider the possibilities of how your future might be...set goals, etc., but you cannot spend all your time there either!

In the book, after the last Spirit (of Christmas Future) has gone, Scrooge says this:

"I don't know what day of the month it is," said Scrooge. "I don't know how long I have been among the Spirits. I don't know anything. I'm quite a baby. Never mind. I don't care..."

Scrooge found out how much time he'd 'wasted', and also how much time he had left! He found out that he didn't know much about time at all.

Most importantly, he found out that it was the day he'd been given that had all the opportunity in it! He could 'fix' the past by dealing with the present day...and he could 'change' the future the same way!! How? By making choices on Christmas Day.

You really only have this day. How are you going to spend the next 24 hours?

Set your timer and change your past and your future today! Perhaps you need to apologize to someone, and you've been putting it off. Perhaps there's a habit you need to stop...because it could hurt your future.

Christmas is the time of year when it seems we can easily overload ourselves with projects and get togethers and suddenly our schedules are all messed up with Christmas breaks and snow days and shopping sprees and parties and...well, you get the picture. We can find ourselves whining, "I don't have time for that!"

But here's the funny part: we all have the same amount of time in the day...

We didn't start the fire

2008-12-10T05:43:00.000-08:00

Rankin: circa 1977.

I thought I smelled something 'unusual' that fateful day. Something like roasting hot dogs. Or leaves burning...

But...I didn't think too much about it at that time. After all, I was like, 9 years old. My sister and I had other things to do that day. So we continued with our playing...and I forgot about the smell.

Until later that night...

BUM BUM BUMMMMMMMM!

More about that in a minute.

Flash forward to present day: You wanna know something? My husband is quite the firestarter. He fancies himself after Charles Ingalls, I think. He could probably win on Survivor, I swear! Because when he builds a fire...it's big. It's hot. And it will not go out.

Unlike the namby-pamby fires I'm liable to try and build in the fireplace. I just don't seem to have the knack for it. I have to constantly feed my fire. Move the logs around. Keep the flame glowing. Sometimes I get really frustrated. In fact, I am so lousy at building a fire, that once I just threw in the towel.

AND BOY HOWDY!!! THAT THING BURNED FOR THREE DAYS!

(well...it WAS a beach towel, after all.)

Back to Rankin.

I was in bed. And awakened to the sound of banging on our front door. There were some guys driving past our house in the country who noticed something a 'little unusual'. So they stopped to tell us about it.

It was our barn. Our huge ol' barn where Dad kept a bunch of his farming equipment and boat and other items...was on fire!

It was amazing! It was (actually!) a blazing! We had fire departments from all sorts of towns and surrounding counties working on putting that inferno out. And while no one was seriously injured...one fireman was actually blown out of his boots when the gas tank exploded.

And that...that was quite a sight to see...

They're still not exactly sure what started the fire. Some speculation was on the old hay in the hay mow. That it oxidized or spontaneously combusted or something.

I didn't care. What I knew was that our barn was gone. Our boat was gone. And things on the farm would never look or be quite the same...

Flash forward back to present day: Steve brought home three truckloads of wood the other day. You see, they're building a Walgreen's in Mahomet, and cleared out a bunch of brush and trees...and let Steve take as much of the wood as he wanted. Nice.

We use our fireplace quite a bit in the winter. We are trying to save some energy money that way. Our furnace is not the most economical item in our home, we know...plus, we like the looks of the crackling fire in the fireplace on a chilly evening.

And the smell of S'mores. Yummmmmm.

Our fireplace helps keep us warm and cozy. It's a good fire to have around.

The barn fire, on the other hand, only destroyed. It didn't seem to care about us or our things.

Fire....is dangerous.

(well there's a completely Captain Obvious moment for you! Go ahead, I'll say it with you: DUH, C!!)

Fire is dangerous because it causes change.

A boat that was there, in the barn one day...became, in a matter of minutes...nothing but a chunk of metal. And a small chunk at that.

A fireplace fire warmed cold feet, dried out damp gloves...and gave us a roasted marshmallow to eat.

Fires can feed us...or feed upon us.

What's your fire look like, my friends? Are you on fire for something? Is there a passionate flame burning inside you for a purpose?

"A light shines in the darkness...but the darkness has not understood it..."

My obsession confession

2008-11-21T06:30:00.000-08:00

I can become obsessed and single-minded at times...focused on one thing...and I occasionally have to fight this overpowering urge of focus...of obsession...this need...this incredible desire.

It's difficult for me to control...and I haven't really found a support group that can help me out. I've dealt with this problem since I was little...I mean, really young...

it's...it's hard for me to think about...but I can assure you that I don't ever intend to quit!

Still, I feel I need to talk to you...if for no other reason than to perhaps understand myself better.

My obsession is this:

jigsaw puzzles

Yeah, you read that right. Jigsaw puzzles. Just typing those two words makes me a little giddy...a little light-headed...whoa.

I.love.jigsaw.puzzles.

I do. I began putting the pieces into place at an early age and the staying power it has for mezmerizing me is astounding. I love easy ones...3D ones...I'll do a puzzle with someone or by myself. I love them.

Had a Yogi Bear puzzle as a kid. A hamburger puzzle as a teen. I just completed a rooster puzzle at Mom's the other day. And I know there are more jigsaws in my future.

There has to be!

Here's the deal: I can't NOT attempt to put pieces in place if there's a puzzle anywhere about. The Cancer Center where Mom has a doc that she sees once in a while has a table set up with a jigsaw. Just the other day we were there...and as soon as the nurse led Mom back for her appt., I was planted in a chair at that table, eagerly picking up pieces and figuring out where they go.

I love puzzles. I love how the pieces feel in my hand. I relish the satisfying 'snick' when a piece is put into it's proper place. I enjoy sorting the outside pieces from the inside pieces.

I can sit at a table, doing a puzzle, and lose track of time. Easily. I'm not kidding. I literally lost track of time in 1979 because I was working on a puzzle of Rip Van Winkle. Began it on Monday the 20th and when I finished it, the newspaper told me it was 1984.

You see, when I get really involved with a puzzle...nothing else matters. It's me...and the pieces...and the big picture of the finished puzzle. And this overpowering urge to complete it...

Oh, sometimes it's not all fun. Sometimes my brow furrows...when I think I've got a piece in the right place...but the fit isn't right. No worries, though. The challenge continues. And the challenge helps make it fun.

When I was about 11 years old, I had a Shaun Cassidy jigsaw puzzle. And I would put that thing together and take it apart and put it together and take it apart...and I got to this place in my mind where I began timing myself...to see how long it took me to complete that picture. To finish the puzzle.

I think my fastest time was like, 7 minutes. I wrote a letter to Shaun telling him of my victory and he wrote a song about it.

Well, he should've written a song. Because I felt it was quite an accomplishment.

Jigsaw puzzles, for me, are about a variety of things. They're about creativity, and concentration, and control. Eye candy...especially the really tough ones that use similiar colors and items like flowers or cars or water...to make your mind work even harder.

They satisfy the Monk in me by giving me a false sense of control. Of giving me the ability to sort...and categorize...and determine what happens next. Do I complete the sky? Or do I work on the log cabin? Ah Ha Ha....I rub my hands together and feel a little like Frankenstein's creator...striving to finish my creation.

Told you I had a problem with puzzles. :)

Here's my pondering for today:

Sometimes I think we're all pieces in this big ol' jigsaw puzzle. And Someone is placing us in our proper place. To complete this beautiful picture.

Here's the other thing about jigsaw puzzles. There is nothing more depressing...or maddening...or disappointing...than realizing that there is a piece that's missing.

You, my friend, are a very important piece of the puzzle. You're just as necessary as a corner piece...or the cat's eye...or the wheel on the wagon. The big picture needs you.

I need you. As puzzling as that may seem...

Tell me more...tell me more!!

2008-11-10T05:30:00.000-08:00

I started reading at a very early age.

In fact, by the time I was in the first grade, I was such a good reader that my teacher sent me to the second grade for reading class...because the first grade curriculum just wasn't 'challenging enough'.

But I'm not here to brag about my early learning experiences. That's just part of it...heehee...

If you had asked me, I would've told you the plain and simple truth. It didn't involve brains or intellect. It wasn't that I was some sort of "Super Student". It was...simply...this:

I love a good story!

I can't help it! There's something about starting with "Once upon a time..." and getting to the "happily ever after" that I think we all enjoy. Oh, not every good story ends or begins with those exact words...but I believe we all want to hear someone tell us about their life. So we can compare it to ours....or find out what we have in common...or find out about a certain place...or just to laugh. Or cry. We love a good story.

Maybe that's why reality television is so popular?

But I'm not here to talk about Survivor...or the Biggest Loser. I'm here to talk about a boy named Tommy.

This boy had the most exciting life! I mean...he was almost killed by my uncle Rick several times over...he survived (just barely!) a family vacation that involved a terrorizing group of raccoons in the garbage cans....and he was constantly riding around either on this pony or in a go-cart. The kid was something else!

At least to hear my Grandma tell it.

My love of Story began with Dr. Seuss' "And to think that I saw it on Mulberry Street"...but it was my Grandma who cinched my love of Story by telling me and my sister about my Dad's childhood. Those family vacations...and incidents with raccoons...and go carts...and historic fights that he and our uncle Rick had together! Those stories were better than TV! My sister and I found out over the years that Dad was cool! This COULD NOT be the same person we lived with!

My Grandma may not have known exactly what kind of 'monster' she was helping to create, though. I fell in love with Story and it's consumed me...this love affair...and it's continued throughout my life.

From high school diaries that tell 'my' story...to learning the art of acting and being able to tell the stories of others on stage...to becoming a grown up and telling stories every so often around a family campfire. I realize the power Story has in my life.

So much power, in fact, that I've been paid for telling stories to elementary school students. So much power that I've spent close to 900 kaprillion dollars on scrapbooking supplies just for the opportunity to journal about a birthday party. To record a special event. To tell the Story.

Yesterday, the power of Story came up again. I found myself with a captive audience wanting to hear more. "Tell us more about Hannah growing up!" I heard. So I did.

And I thought of my Grandma right then. Did she understand the POWER of Story?

Do we? Really?

Do you, my friend, understand how important it is that you share some of yourself with others? You have incredible influence in people's lives...and you may not realize it...but someone is listening to you. What are you telling them?

You are a main character in a very good story. And someone wants to hear more...I encourage you today to share a piece with someone. And I also encourage you to listen. Who knows? You may find yourself falling in love with Story...

and living happily ever after. The End.

The Best Medicine...

2008-11-05T05:28:00.000-08:00

You know who doesn't have a very good sense of humor?

Cats.

Cats do not have a good sense of humor. I think that's what makes them so funny.

They cannot laugh at themselves.

Growing up, we had cats. And on more than one occasion, one of our cats would do something goofy that would crack me up.

I don't believe any of those times was ever intentional. The cat never tried to make me laugh.

But I laughed just the same.

Because I love a good joke.

Those of you who know me...know I'm speaking the truth. Heck, I even tolerate bad jokes.

I can't help myself. I get all excited and tingly when someone says, "Hey...did you hear the one about...?"

I love jokes so much that I will frequently go into JCM with people (JCM stands for Joke Courtesy Mode-the state of listening to a previously heard joke with the same excitement/anticipation as the first time of hearing it). Everyone needs some JCM. I mean, nothing's as disappointing as having someone burst your bubble by saying, "That's no sandwich! That's my wife!" right before you get to say it.

My son is in jr. high. He comes home with jokes on a daily basis. And a lot of them require severely high dosages of JCM. And a lot of them are pretty sad.
But I listen to every one. Because I know how good it is to laugh.

And lately, I have been taking advantage of every opportunity I can to laugh. Because I haven't felt very good.

Physically, emotionally, mentally. All areas that are ailing. All areas that have greatly benefited from a big ol' belly laugh.

It's therapeutic, I'm told. And I believe it.

Take the other night, for instance...

Steve, my husband (who normally ISN'T very humorous!), did this funny voice thing and made me crack up.

The laughter felt good. Steve was pleased with himself and continued to do the voice. I laughed harder.

And the fact that he made me laugh so hard made me laugh even harder.

I went into a giggling fit. It got so bad that he became annoyed with me.

Kinda reminded me of a cat. Which was pretty humorous itself. Picturing my hubby as a kitty cat....heeheehee.

Picture this: here's me on the bed, laughing. Steve smiles at my laughter for a second...then, as he realizes I'm not 'slowing down'...begins to frown a little.

"It wasn't that funny!" he claims, indignantly. Which...snicker...just made me laugh harder!

"C'mon. Knock it off." he says. I can see he's baffled by my laughter and I want to stop. Honestly! I do!

But I can't. Have you ever been there? Do you know what that's like? To want to STOP laughing?

I'm trying to get myself under control. And Steve? He totally looks like a ticked off cat now!

Finally, in true 'ticked off cat' fashion...he got up and left. In a huff.

I laughed and laughed.

And felt better!

My friends, find something to laugh at today. However, I wouldn't recommend Steve. I don't think he'll get it...

Because I'm Worth It...Priceless

2008-10-22T05:21:00.000-07:00

I don't know about you...but the media is killin' me with all the economy talk.

Seriously. I find myself thinking I was back in "Little House on the Prairie" times...that it would just be easier to get by these days with a horse...milkin' my own cow and making my own clothes. That it would be easier to not have to wrestle with school activity fees...and messing with school fundraisers...and trying to deal with where my money goes.

And people.

Sigh.

People in need.

And I gotta tell you...it's difficult for me to find the 'extra money' to give to 'people in need'...when I'm trying to figure out my own stuff, you know??!!

Maybe I'm a 'people in need'...

And then there are the needy people in my life.

Do you know what I'm talking about? These folks don't necessarily need my money.

Relationships. They can cost so much...we try to save a little time for ourselves and someone comes along and charges us extra. We invest in our children's lives...our friendships...because we know that they're worth something and I value my relationships greatly.

Wow. Is the tv on? Do you hear all that money talk?

Here. I'll help you out.

Relationships. They can cost so much...we try to save a little time for ourselves and someone comes along and charges us extra. We invest in our children's lives...our friendships...because we know that they're worth something and I value my relationships greatly.

People...relationships....are not a commodity. Donald Miller talks about that some in his book, "Blue Like Jazz".

It's hard to talk about people and not use those words. See, I think you're valuable. But valuable is a 'money' word. I can want you to realize how much you're worth. But again...a cash amount seems to be appropriate here.

You're actually not valuable.

You're invaluable.

Dictionary.com says invaluable is an adjective describing something that is "beyond calculable or appraisable value".

Can't even buy life insurance for you...because you're beyond dollar amounts! :)

Do you understand that?

Do you realize how much you matter?? How rare you are? What a find you could be?

It's big stuff. Just like the stock market news...I find it difficult to wrap my brain around...

You matter to me. You matter to God. You need to matter to yourself...

and other people need to matter to you.

Because we're all invaluable. Each one of us. From babies who can't seem to sleep thru the night to great grandmas that don't remember our names anymore. From our best friend to our worst enemy.

All invaluable. All matter.

It is so easy, my friends, to calculate our relationships. To determine what the 'fair amount' is on our time...our effort...what our 'payback' will be...

I do it. I'm sure you do it as well. I don't want to reach out to this person or that person because it's not worth the investment...

or...

or we don't think we're worth the investment. We become martyrs...giving so much of our 'cashflow' to others that our account is 'empty' or 'overdrawn'...and we don't take care of ourselves because we've put ourself last.

You, my friend, are more than a dollar sign to me. You're like a great piece of art...or furniture...or that ages old quilt. You're priceless...

and you can...um...take that to the bank.

Busdriver! MOVE THAT COUCH!

2008-10-10T06:02:00.000-07:00

It's been noisy at my house lately. Dictionary.com (my lil buddy!) says that "noisy" is defined as: Making a noise, esp. a loud sound; clamorous; vociferousem>emturbulent; boisterous; as, the noisy crowd.

Hm. Vociferous, by the way...is my "word for the day"...and I will try to use it at least twice (most likely using it incorrectly! Just because I like the sound of the word!). Vociferous means: conspicuously and offensively loud; given to vehement outcry

Offensively loud. Yeah....I think vociferous describes my situation to a tee.

Here's the deal though. My house isn't noisy in the "neighbors are gonna call the cops" kind of way. It's more of an internal thing.

In fact, I've been considering Feng Shui as a way to 'fix the problem'. Dictionary.com (again!) tells me that Feng Shui is: the Chinese art or practice of creating harmonious surroundings that enhance the balance of yin and yang, as in arranging furniture or determining the siting of a house.

I think "yin" and "yang" might be "Hannah" and "Jacob" in Chinese. Or maybe "Shut" and "Up"...or perhaps it means "gin" and "tonic". I'm not quite sure...

I do, however, wonder if it would really work. If I moved my couch over three inches and placed a red pillow in the room somewhere...if my yin and yang would be balanced.

It's a good question. I'm sure that there are some of you out there right now saying, 'FENG SHUI ROCKS! IT REALLY WORKS! DO IT, C.! DO IT!' (You'll see a difference in three days...if not fully satisfied, simply return the pillow to its orignal position and stop making fun of Feng Shui in an infomercial sort of way!)

I don't know that moving my couch will stop the noisiness inside of me.

The Serenity Prayer says: God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference.

Hm...serenity is defined (thanks again, Dictionary.com!!!) as:

1. a disposition free from stress or emotion [syn: repose]
2. the absence of mental stress or anxiety
calm, or tranquil(Free from commotion or disturbance)

Okay. Serenity sounds like what I need in my house. Perhaps I can set it next to the couch??

The prayer goes on to say "wisdom to know the difference"...and I think I've got some of that wisdom today.

I'd love to share it with you. Ready? Okay!

(I did NOT just sound like a cheerleader then, did I? Cuz that's...um...scary!)

Okay..."courage to change the THINGS I can"

THINGS...

THINGS (like couches)

THINGS...

not people.

Oh boy. That's insightful. Part of my noisiness has a lot to do with wanting people to change.

I'm soberly considering the fact that Feng Shui has got the right idea...

I can move my couch....I cannot move Brad...or Sharon...or Phil...or whatever Romper Room name you want to insert here...the fact is...that we do have some control over things...but not people.

And here's the other part: we don't really have that much control over things!!!

Oh...I guess we can move our couches...and the balance in our living room might shift...but the Serenity Prayer goes on to say this:

Living one day at a time; enjoying one moment at a time;
accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;

Um...not 'moving couches' is the 'pathway to peace'??

Acceptance is.

Wow.

Listen, I've got to run....I just want you to consider today the idea of "acceptance" vs. "noisiness"...

Hey! How'd this pillow get here!!??

Is this a kissing book?

2008-10-02T19:50:00.000-07:00

One of my most favorite movies of all time is The Princess Bride. And one of my favorite scenes in the movie is this one:

Grandpa: [voiceover] Nothing gave Buttercup as much pleasure as ordering Wesley around.

Buttercup: Farm boy, polish my horse's saddle. I want to see my face shining in it by morning.

Wesley: As you wish.

Grandpa: [voiceover] "As you wish" was all he ever said to her.

Buttercup: Farm boy, fill these with water - please.

Wesley: As you wish.

Buttercup: Farm boy... fetch me that pitcher.
[It's right over her head, so he has to stand next to her]

Wesley: As you wish.
[Cut to them kissing]

The Grandson: [interrupting] Hold it, hold it. What is this? Are you trying to trick me? Where's the sports? [suspiciously] Is this a kissing book?

I saw this movie for the first time on a date. I was with a guy that I thought was amazing. Just an incredible guy. I was smitten. Seriously. I would've done just about anything for him.

Who was this guy? Um...well, it's been a long time ago...and I think his last name starts with a....um...R? Maybe?

Does it matter?

Well, C., you just said that you really thought a lot about this guy and would do anything for him...but you can't even remember his name now? That's kinda lame. What kind of relationship was that?

I was young.

I uh...I thought I loved him...but maybe I didn't really understand what love is.

And, my friends...I'm STILL not sure I understand love. Sigh. But there are some things about love that I DO understand now.

I think The Princess Bride gives us a great visual of love.

When you love someone very much...you put their needs before your own. You want the best for them...you're not thinking of yourself necessarily. You want to please them.

Such was the case with Wesley, the farm boy. He did what Buttercup asked of him, not to win her approval of him...but simply because he loved her.

And the more she piled on...the more he obeyed her. Without complaint. Because all he wanted was to be with her.

Do you have that kind of relationship with someone?

Seriously?

I mean, c'mon...it's the movies, for cryin' out loud....that doesn't happen in real life!

Does it?

Now I'd like you to consider your relationship with God. When He speaks to you...is your response to God, "As you wish?"

When we love someone...we want their happiness. We want them to know that we care about them. So we serve them. Take care of their requests...as they wish.

Is that what you say to God?

It's a good question.

I think that when we love God with all our heart, soul, mind and strength...we desire to obey Him...to do the things He asks of us...it should be our response.

However...I also think that we can "do" a bunch of stuff for God and never say, "As you wish." to Him. Not once.

These 'chores' just become things we check off of a list. Rules that we follow to try and get into heaven...or at least, find heavenly acceptance.

That doesn't sound like intimacy. That doesn't sound like closeness.

It's like...well, what if Wesley just did the chores around the farm, but didn't speak to Buttercup at all? The movie wouldn't be nearly as interesting...
he and Buttercup would never have had that 'connection'...that kiss. Sure, things would've gotten done...but Wesley and Buttercup would've missed out on a really good time together.

Hm.

Consider this:

God loves you very much. But not because of the things that you do! He made a huge sacrifice of Himself so that he could have a relationship with you. He wants that more than anything.

My friends, I encourage you to look God in the eye and say, "As You Wish."

Just once.

Fail

2008-10-01T06:12:00.000-07:00

So my Mom had cataract surgery on Monday. Everything went fine...except that she's lost her debit card.

Well...I guess I lost her debit card. As I was the last one to 'see it alive' before it went missing. Without a trace.

(I gotta stop watching so many crime shows!)

I've looked everywhere for the stupid card. I can't find it. Sigh.

I felt really bad. And yesterday, when we realized it was gone....I felt even worse than awful. I badmouthed myself until I was blue in the face...I got all clenched up inside. And I was cranky (to say the least!)...and not really much fun to be around for a while.

Until I let it go!!!

Let go of what, you ask?

I let go of my 'control of things'...and I stoppped being so hard on myself and the fact that I am not perfect. I mess up. I do clumsy, irresponsible things. Not all the time, mind you...but just enough to remind me that I screw up.

I fail.

Do you ever fail?

How does that make you feel? Crummy?

Couple of thoughts: When it comes to God...He is not suprised by our failure. Not ever. When we have a relationship with Him...there is never a time that God says, "WHAT? C. LOST A DEBIT CARD? WHAT IS WRONG WITH HER? SHE CAN'T DO A THING RIGHT, I TELL YA! HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO PUT UP WITH HER DISAPPOINTING ME? WELL...THAT'S IT! WE'RE DONE HERE! SHE ISN'T WORTH THE TROUBLE!"

(Now...sometimes I think He just shakes His head and rubs His temple at my behavior...but that may be all in my head...I dunno!) :)

Let's get back to the card. My losing the card is a fine example of how we think we have some control over our life...and yet...there are still variables that come into play that we didn't consider in our grand scheme of things.

We cannot anticipate every possible outcome. We do not know everything.

But when we think we have control...when a relatively intelligent, somewhat organized woman misplaces a debit card...and freaks when she cannot find it...even tho she is ALMOST SURE she gave it back to her Mom....well, it's not peaceful. It's chaotic. And it's a good reminder that we're wanting things our way...not God's way.

Recently someone commented about Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane. Was He disappointed in the disciples' behavior? I've been praying and thinking about this particular part of the Bible...and here's what I'd like to consider:

Jesus-disappointed or not (I'm still not sure I've come to a conclusion here), remembered the Big Picture...remembered that He had asked God in prayer that God's will be done...not Jesus'. And when He saw the disciples sleeping...He didn't say, "That's it! I'm through with you!" He used the moment to remind them to pray, to be alert...so they don't enter the danger zone.

I think I entered that danger zone yesterday. And while I wasn't in there for very long...there was still some 'damage' that was done...because I wasn't thinking of the big picture...I was focused on my own expectations and how I failed.

When our expectations aren't met...we aren't fun to be around. We become judgemental, angry, hard, bitter, annoyed, sad people. I was all of those things yesterday...at myself. And it shouldn't have been like that.

Why, you ask?

Consider this: while I was thinking of myself...and my failure...and my anger at losing the card...I may have fallen 'asleep'.

I may have missed an opportunity to be in the garden with God...

Do you understand that? When I live with expectations...I'm focused on me. When I have expectations of others, I'm focused on them. I'm keeping score...and determining who passes....and who fails.

But God...

God lives in expectancy...wanting us to share our lives with Him...not spend our valuable time 'doing' things to meet some criteria that says we're 'good'. It's the time that we spend with Him that helps us to be 'good'...not the things that we 'do'.

My friends, it's the relationship that is important to God...not the rules.

Relationships and Rat Traps

2008-09-28T17:50:00.000-07:00

As I've been thinking about expectations and how they affect our relationships with others, I've been reminded of how much impact we have in the lives of each other.

Don't believe me?

Read on, my friend...

A rat looked through a crack in the wall of the farmhouse just in time to see the farmer and his wife opening a package.

"I wonder what that is?" the rat said to himself, "Some new kind of food, perhaps?"

But the rat was disappointed to learn that the package was not food at all...but a rat trap. Retreating to the farmyard, the rat proclaimed the following to all who could hear him:

"There is a rat trap in the house now! There is a rat trap in the house!"

The chicken clucked and scratched, then raised her head and said, "I can tell, Mr. Rat...that this is a grave concern to you...but it is of no consequence to me! I cannot be bothered by your petty problems!" The chicken went on scratching in the dirt.

The rat saw the pig nearby and told him the news. "There's a rat trap in the house now, Pig!"

The pig smiled sympathetically at the rat. "I am so very sorry for you, Mr. Rat, but there's nothing I can do about it. So sorry..."

The rat turned to the cow. "Did you hear that there's a rat trap in the house?"

The cow nodded knowingly, "Yep, I heard that, Rat. It's too bad...but it's no skin off my nose now, is it?"

The rat, now feeling very dejected, hung down his head and went slowly back into the farmer's house...to face the trap alone.

And...that very night...a sound was heard throughout the farmyard. SNAP! The trap had caught its prey.

The farmer's wife rushed to it. But in the darkness, she could not see the venomous snake whose tail was stuck in the trap, and the snake bit the farmer's wife.

The farmer rushed her to the hospital...and she returned home...with a fever.

Everyone knows that one of the ways to treat a fever is with chicken soup, so the farmer got out his hatchet and went out to the farmyard for the main ingredient.

However, the wife's sickness continued, and as friends and family came to take care of her around the clock, the farmer killed the pig in order to feed them.

But the wife did not get well...and died one night. So many people turned out for her funeral that the farmer's cow was sacrificed so that they could eat after the service.

The rat watched all of this from the crack in the wall with great sadness.

The moral is: the next time that you hear someone facing a problem and think that it doesn't concern you...remember, when one of us is threatened, we are all at risk.

That's why encouraging each other and keeping an eye out for each other is so important. Relationships matter!!!

I know we're all busy...each day I myself have the potential to need to be in four places at once. We can't 'do it all'...that's not what I mean. But we cannot keep saying, "I don't have time." or "I'm too busy." or "Maybe tomorrow." Don't put off the relationships in your life...pick one person to really connect with this week, okay?

A yoke...over easy.

2008-09-23T20:44:00.000-07:00

I went to my daughter's play rehearsal this evening. In an effort to save on some gas and to see her 'in action'.

I watched the students move a large set piece off of the stage in order to get ready to rehearse. At first, there were three of them trying to move it...and it wouldn't budge.

At one point I think someone said, "I can't hold onto this much longer. It's too heavy!"
And that got me to thinking some more about this idea of verbs and nouns and 'expectancy' vs. 'having expectations'.

I think we should live expectantly. I think that's what God does with us...just as The Shack mentioned.

I think we should change our expectations into expectancy...take them from the noun form that they are and turn them into action.

When I consider this idea as I think about how I relate to others...I'd much rather 'live expectantly' than 'have expectations'. They (expectations) seem 'heavy' to me...and carry with them the burden of the possibility of disappointment.

It's a good visual for me. This idea of my holding onto something tightly...to the point of white-knuckling. To hold onto a selfish expectation that life should 'go my way for crying out loud!'(you know...just for example), is like holding desperately onto a heavy set piece...wanting someone to come and take some of that weight away...to make that load lighter.

As I'm learning to embrace God's love for us (for me!) in such a way that...while God knows what we're going to do (and that, my friends...is my belief!)...and to consider that He is there...expectantly living with me...that He has this hope for what He's created...that He just....wants to be a part of my life...even when I do (or don't do) what He 'expected'...well, I think that's what grace looks like...

When I think about my relationships with difficult people...and how they have never (well...rarely, for sure!) met my selfish expectations of what they should be...and how distressed I get about that...the refreshing change of heart that happens when my trying to see them (to see you!)as the human being that God created and whom God expectantly watches with me...to remember that He's on my team...makes it a little easier for me to live expectantly...rather than grip so tightly onto those heavy expectations of mine...tenaciously holding onto them and then throwing them down when they disappoint me.

But that's just me...anyhoo...

Back to the rehearsal...

at one point, I heard some kid holler, "Hey, can I give you a hand?"

And that's what I think I hear God hollering to me...as my knees buckle under the expectations...those heavy, weighty objects that they tend to be. Expectancy moves me in the right direction. Having expectations just weighs me down.

"God! Grab that corner!" I hear myself say.

My friends, stop trying to carry it all yourself. Give God a hand...

and give yourself a hand too! You are so loved!!!

Joy Dishwashing Soap

2008-09-22T05:27:00.000-07:00

Last time I wrote, I got some good questions about the whole verb/noun alive/dead stuff I mentioned...and some more thoughts on expectations vs. expectancy.

So...I thought we'd think about these a little more this week. I realize that perhaps you have not read The Shack...and maybe I'm making assumptions of you (or have expecatations??) and need to clarify my ideas. Even if I don't have to clarify...this fascinates me; so I'm going to enjoy talking more about it.

And I have a selfish reason. I don't want to wash my dishes.

As I have done in the past, I'm going to ask dictionary.com to help me with the literal meaning of words.

Here's one definition of expectations.

Expectations: Prospects, especially of success or gain.

Ah, excellent! This is great. My friends, that is what I want us to focus on for a moment.

Notice what the dictionary says: "especially of success or gain".

Interesting. When we have an expectation, dictionary.com indicates that that expectation is for success or gain.

In other words, "I will gain something from this expectation. And it will be a good something. I will benefit from having this expectation met in a successful way."

I think I can safely say that most 'good' expectations come from repeated 'good' actions getting repeated 'good' (or successful) results.

Majority wins, yes?

For example, let's say I have dirty dishes in the sink.

I ask my daughter to wash the dishes on Monday evening.

And she does. The dishes are done! WOO HOO!

Success! My instructions were followed, and something good came from that.

When I give instructions to my children and they follow my instructions, learning/doing something 'good'...I am pleased and I will expect them to do the same thing next time.

Okay...so now it's Tuesday night. And I ask Hannah to wash the dishes.
And again, lo and behold...she does what I ask.

Excellent! Success again!

So the next time I give instructions to my children and they follow them and again...the outcome is successful. WOO HOO! I am doing something right....my kids are doing something right...and it's all good. So I write the expectation down in my head.

Hannah washes the dishes four nights in a row. In fact, on Thursday, I didn't even ask. She just did it.

Again. It's good. My instructions are being followed. She knows what I want! I don't even have to ask her. She just does it.

BRILLIANT!

Now it's Friday. I walk into the kitchen...with the expectation that Hannah has done the dishes just like she has done for the past four evenings and...

and...

there are dirty dishes in the sink and Hannah is nowhere to be found.

This time...there is not success. What has happened here? Did Hannah forget? Weren't my instructions clear? I mean, I didn't even have to ask her to do them last night and she did them anyway! What is going on?

I am not happy.

My 'good' instructions were not followed. And because my instructions weren't followed...I'm going to have a talk with Hannah. Because this is not acceptable. It's not good.

My expectation has not been met in a positive way. It.is.not.good.

I am not happy with the outcome. I am not happy with my kids. In fact, you know what?? I may punish Hannah for not following my instruction. She knew the instructions I gave her and didn't follow them.

Now. Deep breath here.

Re-read that whole example of Hannah and the dishes. I'll wait.

*muzak plays softly in the background. C. sings robustly with Air Supply's 'All out of Love'*

Did you notice how much the word "I" (in various forms) was used??

About 30 times.

"My" and "I". "I" am in control of things. I gave the instruction. I bought the dishes. And....and...I even gave birth to the kid for crying out loud!

It was me! I am in control of this situation.

Or at least, one would think that I would be in control of this situation.

And it wasn't a bad thing! I mean, it's not like I asked Hannah to do something hurtful!

It should have worked out! While it was good, while it was successful...while the dishes were getting washed each night...I felt like I had control.

What happened to my control on Friday? Didn't Hannah know I was in control of the dishes? I thought she did. I gave her the dishes to do...and she didn't do them.

I should have control over Hannah...as I mentioned...I MADE her!!

For some reason I don't know....Hannah over-rode my expectation by not following my instruction. She did what SHE wanted...not what I wanted!!!

And what happened then? Not anything good, I can tell you that! Because my expectation was a good one...and should have been obeyed.

It's not fair!

Where is the joy when your expectation is NOT met?

I can't see the future...hm...I don't know if Hannah's going to make that mistake again or not....hm....and hm....I guess that I am not really in control of things like I thought I was.

My friends....I know that this is long...we'll look at this some more tomorrow.

I'm going to leave you with this thought:

Expectations come from our selfish desires that the things we want...the people we deal with...the situations we find ourselves in are met with success in our favor. Because when those expectations are met to our satisfaction, we think we're in control.

But...sadly...we are not in control. Not really. Because people are involved...and people are surprising...and people make mistakes. We can't make them do the things we want.

And experience joy. Not consistently, anyway.

Again, we are not in control.

Only God is.

God is.

Dishes...joy. Hm....guess I gotta go do those dishes now. You have a good day!

It wasn't what I expected!

2008-09-11T06:13:00.000-07:00

Right now Christmas is on my mind.

I know...it's only September. I can hear you now..."C., you're as bad as the stores that have their decorations up as soon as the school supplies are sold in August!"

I know.

In fact, I'm listening to Christmas music right now.

And I'm working hard on the Christmas musical we're going to perform at church.

So you see, Christmas is on my mind.

And you know...when I get excited about something, I repeat myself.

Did I mention that Christmas is on my mind?

Okay...okay. Here's why. Really and truly.

I just finished reading "The Shack" by William P. Young. It's an amazing book. Seriously. I haven't been this excited about a read since 'Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows'.

And do you know why? It wasn't what I expected.

Which is, in fact, the beauty of it. I don't want to tell you all about the book...because I want to encourage you to read it for yourself. However, I will say that one (of the many!) ideas this book presents is the subtle difference between verbs and nouns.

Verbs are alive.
Nouns are dead.

Stop yawning! This isn't going to be a tiresome grammar lesson! But think about that for a moment.

Now think about Christmas.

Is your heart starting to clench? Did you begin to consider all the things you HAVE to do to get ready for it? The cost of the gifts, decorations, food? The get togethers where you have to see people you don't really want to see but you're expected to go....so you go...and ugh. 'C,' I can hear you say, 'I don't even WANT to think about Christmas!'

Why?

Simply moving a word from a noun form to a verb form has transformed how I think about Christmas...as well as other aspects of my life.

I've been thinking about this for the past couple of days. One thing I struggle with is expectations.

Expectations of myself...of others...of job situations...of people driving their Chryslers...of waitresses...and expectations of God.

I have a lot of those. And the expectations I believe God has for me.

Except that God is a verb...not a noun. "I am" not just "I".

Alive and moving.

So...expectations...which are a noun...are dead.

Instead...try 'expectancy'.

I think that's why we adults dread Christmas to the degree that we do. We are taking care of the expectations. Expectations of gifts for children. Expectations of parents who are planning dinners. Expectations of retailers regarding our spending. We have expectations about a Christmas bonus from our job to equal or be more than what we received the year before. We have expectations about the weather and snowfall.

We, as adults, are nouns. Dead.

But children....children are! They are expectant.

When I was a kid, we had an advent calendar that held a piece of candy. And each day we got a little closer to Christmas. Something wonderful was going to happen on Dec. 25th. We looked forward to it. Without expectations.

I think that's what we've lost! Oh sure, kids may have gift expectations...but they (for the most part) are expectant. Looking forward to what will happen.

There is energy there. In that expectancy.

Isn't it the same thing, C? I mean, expectations...expectancy...what's the diff?

Expectations follow rules. They bind us. They keep us from experiencing joy.

Expectancy however, is freeing.

It's about control, folks. And disappointment rarely shows up when one is expectant. But when one has expectations...like I did that certain Christmas morning when I got the wrong Adam Ant album...disappointment shows up and kills joy.

Expectancy allows joy to happen.

Joy to the World!

And so, as I think about God...instead of thinking I'm not meeting His expectations...I think...He's watching me expectantly...involved with my life...not just judging my actions...or inactions...but actively involved.

And me? Instead of expecting God to do this or that...I just...expect God!

Do you see what I mean? Can you feel that energy at all?

Hm...maybe it's just me. And that's okay. Because I don't really have any expectations about your response.

Oh! One more thing...by thinking in verbs...rather than nouns...there's a good chance I'll burn off some of those Christmas cookie calories, you know what I'm saying?

Does it taste like chicken?

2008-08-25T11:02:00.000-07:00

One of my most favorite books is The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster. I still remember the day I plucked it off the shelf in Mr. Jones' 6th grade reading class. I read it every so often even now as an adult and I'm always seeing something in a different way each time. It is one of the most entertaining, colorful, meaningful, thought-provoking, instructing books for children I've ever read. I can't believe that it's not required reading!

Why Phantom Tollbooth, you ask? Well...it talks of words and numbers. Of reason and rhyme. Of logic and music and boredom and Humbugs and Demons and Milo. Here's a piece of it to (ahem) whet your appetite:

[Milo, a young boy, finds himself in a strange new land and at one point he is invited to the King's Royal Banquet.]

"Are you ready with the menu?" asked the Humbug.

"Well," said Milo,remembering that his mother had always told him to eat lightly when he was a guest, "why don't we have a light meal?"

"A light meal it shall be!" roared the bug, waving his arms.

The waiters rushed in carrying large serving platters and set them on the table in front of the king. When he lifted the covers, shafts of brilliant-colored light leaped from the plates and bounced around the ceiling, the walls, across the floor, and out the windows.

"Not a very substantial meal," said the Humbug, rubbing his eyes, "but quite an attractive one! Perhaps you can suggest something a little more filling."

"Well, in that case," said Milo, "I think we ought to have a square meal of ----,"

"A square meal it is!" shouted the Humbug again.

And again the waiters bring in trays full of steaming squares of all sizes and colors.

"Ugh!" said the Spelling Bee, tasting one, "these are awful!"

No one else liked them very much either, and the Humbug got one caught in his throat and almost choked.

"Time for the speeches!" announced the King. He pointed to Milo. "You first!"

"Your majesty, ladies and gentlemen," started Milo timidly, "I would like to take this opportunity to say that in all the -----"

"That's quite enough!" snapped the King. "Next!"

"Roast turkey, mashed potatoes, vanilla ice cream," recited the Humbug.

"What a strange speech!" thought Milo, for he'd heard many in the past and knew that they were supposed to be long and dull.

"Hamburgers, corn on the cob, chocolate pudding-p-u-d-d-i-n-g," said the Spelling Bee.

And so down the line it went, with each guest rising briefly, making a short speech and then sitting back down. Finally the king said,

"Pate' de foie gras, soupe a l'oignon, faisan sous cloche, salade endive, fromages et fruits et demi-tasse," he said carefully and clapped his hands again.

The waiters bring in trays filled with exactly what each person said, and everyone began eating with great gusto.

"I can't say that I think much of your choice," said the Humbug to Milo.

"I didn't know that I was going to have to eat my words." objected Milo, looking at his plate.

Wow....

I can see the banquet table in my mind...this big ol' long wooden table...with guests seated down both sides...and candlesticks and goblets...and I can even smell the food! The chocolate pudding, the French stuff the king eats...it's vivid. It's clear. It's almost palatable.

And I see Milo's plate. Full of grey, lumpy, wilted words.

Kinda the consistency of oatmeal...but worse.

Yuck.

Our words are so amazing, aren't they? I mean, in this book they are actually food. The people actually DO eat their words!

Lemme ask you a question.

What would your words taste like?

Think about that for a second.

Smooth like pudding? Sweet like ice cream? Buttery like corn? Hot, fresh, filling like bread? Perhaps tangy...like an orange?

Maybe your words are sour...or peppery...perhaps people make faces when they hear what you have to say...or begin coughing. Or crying.

There's this cliche' that Juster must've known about that says we are to make sure our words are sweet...for we may have to eat them.

I don't know about you...but there are some days that I just want to diet.

Not say a word at all....because it will not be good...or nourishing. In fact, sometimes I think my words can be cholesterol to the soul.

Ugh.

And not the good cholesterol either!!

Choose your words carefully today, my friends...and think of Milo. Bon appetite!

...and again I say...

2008-08-21T05:37:00.000-07:00

There's a Jaws movie marathon going on this week on tv. My son Jacob saw the first one and (pun intended!) was hooked! He made us watch Jaws II last night.

Yeah, I said "made us."

So...I've had fish on my mind the past couple of days. In fact, I found myself in the book of Jonah the other day. In the Bible, Jonah finds himself in the belly of a fish. He prays to God. Chapter Two says, "In my distress I called out to the Lord and He answered me!"

This past week I've found myself feeling as though I, too, am in the belly of a fish.

Could be a Great White Shark at this point. Painful...ugly stuff.

So...I followed Jonah's example...called out to the Lord in my distress...

"Hey! You! Life is kinda sucky right now! I know...You know that already. Things aren't really turning out like I'd hoped, you see...and I'm feeling overwhelmed and unamused and really...very ticked off because I'm inconvenienced...and tired...and struggling with my self image...and I don't have enough money and I'm trying really hard not to whine, God....but I'm feeling whiny! So...since I'm so miserable right now...I'm going to ask You what You're going to do about it! So...what's it going to be? Do I sit here in this mess forever now? Tell me what I'm doing wrong and I'll fix it!"

and do you know what? He answered me.

By giving me money and taking away the inconveniences?

Um....no. Not exactly.

He answered me this way...

By making me listen to a Sunday morning sermon message that talked about finding Joy in everyday living.

ergh!....um....hm....I furrow my eyebrows...and call out to God again...again very distressed.

"HA HA....very funny, God! A message on joy. How appropriate! How typical! How bloomin' annoying is that!!?? Look, okay...I'm not really sitting here wishing for a million dollars or a model's body or a 34 hour day. I know what limitations are! But joy?! See, I already told you that I'm NOT feeling that way right now!!! AUGH! You're not listening!!! Don't you listen?!"

and do you know what? He answered me.

By giving me a model's body after all?

Um...no. Not exactly.

I heard from Him because I was reading the Bible. I found myself in the book of Phillipians this time. Or, as I like to call it..."the book that really overuses the word 'rejoice'."

Sigh. Very. Funny. Again. Boy...I tell you, my friends...sometimes I picture God just rolling around on His Golden Floor...holding His stomach and laughing so hard He's crying...as He watches the expressions on my face.

Not laughing AT me...like in a mean way...but laughing. Hard.

Cuz He knows I love a good joke.

He made me. He knows what I can handle.

It's me that doesn't really know what I can handle. Hence my frustration. My worry. My non-joy-ness.

First verse I read was the one I had underlined at some point. Chapter 2, verse 14: "Do all things without grumbling or disputing."

You gotta be kidding me!!

I hear Him giggling. Struggling to keep it under control...but giggling nonetheless.

I shut up right then. Just put the book down and thought about that.

How does that work? Not grumbling? I mean, really? How do you do that?

How do I do that?

For several days now, I've been wondering about that...almost fearful of speaking...because I've been so near to doing one of two things....either crying. Or screaming.

Feeling. Very. Grumbly.

I want very much to have joy. To rejoice.

Joy. What is that, anyway?

Webster's dictionary says that joy, as a noun, is 'the emotion evoked by well-being, success, or good fortune or by the prospect of possessing what one desires."

Uh huh. Yeah, that's me. Snort.

"Um...God? Did you hear what I said? I don't have success, good fortune and well-being right now. So how do I feel joy again?"

"Pssst...(heehee)C....look at(hoohoo)the second part of that."

"what? You mean 'the prospect of possessing what one desires?'"

hm....

"Is that a thing, God? What I desire?"

"You tell me. What do you want?"

What do I want? I want...I want a lot of things, my friends. And what I want is more than just some Santa Claus wish list. I mean, yes...there are things I want...reasonable things...not just toys...or something that is just for me, you know?

I mean...I want things like peace...and I want my kids to have a good school year...and I want to be a good wife...and I want to find some good landscaping plans for my yard...and I want to be more like Jesus...and I want to hire a maid to clean my kitchen...and I want the dogs to be flea-free...and I want the Cardinals to win all their games...and I want to make people who feel bad feel better...and I want some chips and salsa right now...even tho I know it's only 7:30 in the morning.

In the middle of all of that...do you see what I see?

Go ahead...read it again.

We'll come back to that here in a sec. What I want to do now is look at the word "rejoice".

Huh. Will you look at that? Rejoice is right across from Reindeer in my dictionary. Makes me think of Christmas.

Which I find rather funny, since it's supposed to be around 90 degrees today.

Webster's says that rejoice is, as a verb, this:

"to give joy to".

Hm....

Which reminds me again, of Christmas. A little. We give things to people at Christmas. Gifts...I like receiving gifts...but I really like giving gifts. As I get older, I find myself watching the kids open their stuff and forget to open my own packages.

Another thing about gifts? Some of us are good at re-gifting. Oh, they may call it re-cycling, I suppose.

Re-gifting. Re-cycling. Re-joicing.

Re-joicing. "to give joy to".

My friends, I do not get it right all the time. I make a lot of mistakes. I'm selfish...and prideful...and...

And I grumble.

But in my distress I called to the Lord and He answered me.

"Celebrate God all day, every day. I mean, revel in Him! Make it as clear as you can to all you meet that you're on their side, working with them and not against them. Help them see that the Master is about to arrive. He could show up any minute! Don't fret or worry. Instead of worrying, pray. Let requests and praises shape your worries into prayers, letting God know your concerns. Before you know it, a sense of God's wholeness, everything coming together for good, will come and settle you down. It's wonderful what happens when Christ displaces worry at the center of your life. Summing it all up, friends, I'd say you'll do best by filling your minds and meditating on things that are true, noble, authentic, compelling, reputable, gracious--the best, not the worst...the beautiful, not the ugly...things to praise, not things to curse."

Those aren't my words. They're Paul's.

Celebrate God...help them...don't worry...God's wholeness...settle you down...things that are true.

Things that are true? God loves me. Has a relationship with me. One that is becoming more and more each day. He's with me. Even when He's giggling. Especially when He's giggling.

Paul (the writer) goes on and says, "I can make it through anything in the One who makes me who I am."

Wow.

I want to be more like Jesus. Like God. Rolling on a floor and laughing at myself. Remembering that He's in control. That I don't have to worry.

And I want you to have joy too.

So here I am.

Rejoicing.

...and still thinking about chips and salsa. Joy makes me hungry!

Get Lost. Er...I mean...Found.

2008-08-08T05:42:00.000-07:00

When we were growing up, my sister had several skills that I didn't possess.

She was quick and agile...like a ninja. Once, she stabbed me in the leg with a pencil before I could say, "Number Two".

She could make quick decisions. "I don't want to play your game. Let's play Barbies."

And she was also quick at getting lost.

She got lost in the mall one time. She was supposed to stay with me...but she got bored and wandered off. I think we were in a bookstore...or was it a shoe store? I can spend hours in either place...just enjoying the smell of new books and new shoes...so please forgive me. My memory's a little fuzzy here...because all I can really recall now is my panicked Mom when she realized Jill was missing. At one point, only dogs could hear her frenzied rant.

What's that? Oh, we found her. She was fine. Looking at clothes in Lerner's, I think.

And another time she got lost was in the cornfield next to our house. We would play hide and seek in the corn...and go in a couple of rows or so...and then run out of the corn. Only I think she must've gotten turned around and ran farther into the corn than I did.

Or I might've convinced her it was a good idea. I mean, c'mon...that pencil stabbing hurt! And I don't even have to tell you how unhappy I was with her Barbie decision.

What's that? Oh, my Dad found her that time.

Again Jill came back. She'd been lost. And then found.

Recently, Jill got a new car. And it's got a navigational system built into it.

My guess is that she'll never get lost again.

Well...as long as she's driving in her car.

Speaking of driving in a car, I got lost once while driving home from college with a boyfriend of mine. Who had a very poor sense of direction.

Or was it simply a very carefully plotted plan to spend more than 45 minutes with me? Hm....or perhaps he was a huge Gilligan's Island fan...because that relatively short drive home quickly became a three hour tour.

A Three. Hour. Tour.

Now I'm not going to say that the weather started getting rough, but when we finally got home...his Dad was not happy. You see, this was many...many...years ago. Before cell phones were in the hands of teens...and waaaaayyyyy before GPS.

Of course, a simple roadmap might've helped...but Tim didn't seem to possess one of those. You know, now that I think about it, I don't know why I even went out with him in the first place!

But I'm getting off track.

And 'getting off track' is exactly what I wanted to talk about!

It's as simple as turning left instead of right. Of walking into the store next door...or the next corn row.

It doesn't take much.

It doesn't take long, either. Before we're driving/walking/running in circles...

desperately wanting someone to help us get back...or stubbornly believing in our own power to find our way.

Sometimes it seems very overwhelming. We can lose hope...we can worry...we can project that things will never be the way that they were! We'll never find our way out! WE'LL BE STUCK HERE IN FINDLAY FOREVER, TIM! TURN THE CAR AROUND AND JUST GO BACK! WHY DON'T YOU LISTEN TO ME? WE'RE GONNA BE IN SO MUCH TROUBLE! WHEN WE GET HOME...IF THAT EVER HAPPENS...I'M BREAKING UP WITH YOU AND DATING YOUR BROTHER! DO YOU HEAR ME!

Sorry...off track again.

Take a deep breath. Close your eyes. Think of what you've lost recently. Has time gotten away from you? Is there a project you've been putting off? Perhaps you've overspent this month...and your budget's out of whack. Maybe you've not been exercising...or overeating...or both! Maybe you haven't called that person you've been meaning to call.

Whatever you've lost...take a moment now and think about it.

Maybe you hadn't even realized how far off you'd gotten. Maybe it's just one step.

And now think about this...

the best part of getting lost? Is being found.

Roll with the Changes

2008-07-28T14:02:00.000-07:00

Um....if you're reading this...I need to warn you.

This isn't really for you.

Not today.

Oh, I know that my intent has been to try and encourage folks...but I'm not so sure that I'm gonna be able to do that today.

So I'm going to talk to myself for a moment.

Feel free to listen in...I got nothin' to hide. You know what?

Just go ahead and have a seat...whatever....that's fine. Make yourself at home.

As for me...I'm going to pretend that you're not here.

And talk to myself.

You know, to make myself feel better.

Don't you do that?

Wait a second, I'm supposed to be ignoring you. Never mind my questions. They're rhetorical.

Here's the thing, C. I hate being angry.

And lately...I've been very angry.

So I need to get rid of it.

Not the anger. That's just a symptom. That's what you see...like when you've got the stomach flu. No one can SEE the flu....until you're throwing up.

So anger isn't the 'real' problem here...but because it's a symptom of something...I need to look closely at what is making me angry....at the throw up....so to speak.

Is it people?

Hmmmmmmmmmmm...

Is it the way I see myself?

Hmmmmmmmmmmm...

What is it that makes me so angry?

It's simple.

Plain and simple.

But...sigh....I don't know if I want to think about that right now. Let's um...let's change the subject.

I just finished watching "Pay it Forward" on DVD. A really interesting movie. 'Course, I personally adore Kevin Spacey's acting...and you can't go wrong with Haley Joel Osment...and throwing in Jon Bon Jovi? THE Jon Bon Jovi?

Well...all I can say is that someone had me in mind when they made this film.

Tell 'em about the phone call...

I'm....I'm not talking to them. I'm talking to you, remember?

Tell 'em....it's funny!

It's not funny. It's sad. Tragic, kinda. Although I will admit that there's some irony there...

Go on...tell them about the phone call.

Okay...fine.

So I'm watching this movie...about this idea of doing something nice for someone...something that they can't do for themselves...to see what difference it would make in the world...to see if it would make it a better place...

I really don't want to talk about this...

Go on...it'll be fine.

In the middle of the movie, Jacob comes over with the phone. It's the clinic. Now, my daughter had an appt. scheduled at this clinic for tomorrow. Not with a doc...but with a dietitian. The scheduler tells me that our insurance plan doesn't cover dietitians...and bottom line...I have to pay $100 tomorrow out of my pocket or cancel the appt.

So I cancel the appt. We don't have that kind of money to spend on 'advice' right now...I can't justify it in my head.

Hannah is sitting on bed next to me...watching the movie.

"Was that the clinic?" she asks.

"Yes."

"What's going on? Why'd you cancel the appointment?"

I have to stop here....because lately....I've been very angry about everything! And this is just ONE MORE THING! All I've done is remind myself of how much I can screw things up. Of how I don't do enough...or have enough...or care enough...

Enough....enough.....enough.

Sometimes it seems like a losing battle, doesn't it? I mean....sometimes you're trying to "do the right thing"...and you're not able to...to do anything.

So...you know what you do?

I'm asking you. What do you do?

Well...I talk to myself...and by doing that....I change my perspective.

How? With gratitude, forgiveness, and a DQ Blizzard.

No...I'm kidding....kinda.

The Blizzard isn't really that helpful.

Hey, what do you know? Turns out I don't need a dietitian's advice after all!!

Ah...I'm feelin' a little better already.

My friends...you always have a chance to make a difference in someone's life. Will you continue to be angry...to hold back on forgiving...to forget what you do have in your life? Will you focus on the negative?

Or will you change your perspective?

Catch me if you can!

2008-07-18T07:47:00.000-07:00

It still irks me when I think about it. To this day, I don't understand why I did what I did...and yet, looking back...I shouldn't have been surprised.

But I was.

Here's what happened: We were living in a trailer park at the time. I was a stay at home mom with my two kids. My son was 3 years old. He had a red tricycle.

One day he hopped onto the trike while we were in the yard, playing. His sister was away at pre-school that morning. I was on the cordless phone, in fact...talking away to someone, as I watched Jake play.

I watch him get on his trike and go west down our street. No biggie. He'd done that cartrillions of times. He ALWAYS turned around at the neighbor's bush and came back...to ride past our place to our other neighbor's bush. SOP (Standard Operating Procedure) for Jake.

So I'm watching him...ride the trike...as I'm talking...and he reaches the bush.

Except...

Except...

he doesn't turn around.

Okay...still not concerned...I walk into the street and watch him as I'm talking on the phone. He's just truckin' on his trike as fast as he can go!

Pedaling away...

not looking back...

and definitely not turning around...!

I start to follow him on foot...still talking on the phone...still expecting him to turn around. Or at least to stop...but he doesn't. He's almost to the end of the street now...and getting ready to turn right.

And I start to panic a little.

There's a speed limit for cars in the park of 10 mph...and the streets are really just wide sidewalks, for the most part...so it's not the traffic at this time of day that I'm really afraid about...it's his distance from me that is freaking me out.

I'm off the phone now, considering my options. I stop in the road and think, "I should get the car and go get him." But I'm afraid to take my eyes off of him for even a second and so I start walking really fast, believing still that he will turn around on his own and come back.

I swear the little stinker is pedaling faster!

I see some folks in their yard. "Stop him!" I think, in my head. "Can't you see that he's gone too far! That he's getting away from me?!"

They don't stop him. And why should they? He's not driving his trike recklessly...and I suppose they could see me following him. Or, perhaps, like most of us these days, they just didn't want to get involved.

At any rate, I'm really getting angry now...and almost running. WHY CAN'T I CATCH UP TO HIM! HE'S THREE! HE'S NOT AN OLYMPIC DECATHALON MEDALIST, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!!!
We are now about three streets over from our trailer. My brain cannot even understand how he got this far...and like the Energizer Bunny...Jake keeps going...and going....

I holler at someone else in their yard. I holler at Jake to stop!

Neither responds.

"This cannot be happening!" I think. I start to blame myself for my stupid decision to not get the car...that I should've stopped him sooner...etc...etc. Well, shouldawouldacoulda isn't helping right this minute.

And I am so mad at him!

How dare he pedal away from me...without asking! Just wait til his father gets home!!!
It's like, seven blocks away now...and he's slowing down. My adrenaline kicks into overdrive and I approach him quickly....like a freight train.

He sees me coming. And...

And smiles.

And then begins to pedal like he's never pedaled before!!!!

WHAT?? You think this is a game, little boy???

Sweat is streaming down my face...my heart is pounding...like the Incredible Hulk, I let out a blood-curdling roar.

STOPPPPP RIGHTTTTTT NOW!!!!!!

He stops.

And waits for me to limp up to him.

My hands are on my knees. I'm trying to catch my breath. And rant at the same time.

No real sound comes out.

Just...

"Ya...huff huff...you...no...ri...huff huff...yo...huff...ki....me...huff huff...thirty...huff huff...police station....huff huff...wish...huff...no...mercy."

His response?

"Mommy, I'm tired."

He holds up his little sweaty boychild hand to me.

"OH NO!" I find my mother's voice...it sounds very, very loud. "YOU WANTED TO RIDE YOUR TRIKE THIS FAR....YOU'RE GONNA RIDE IT ALL THE WAY BACK!!!"

And...as Jackie Gleason would say, "away we go....!"

No harm...no foul. Just a little boy enjoying a ride. And a mother...suddenly realizing how quickly her children can become independent...and how she does not have control over that.

And terrified. Purely, completely...terrified.

I thought, my friends, that I would never feel that way again.

Until last night.

When we bought our daughter her first cell phone.

I'm in the car next to her...and I hear myself reciting tengaprillion rules and regs on phone usage at her.

And it hits me like a ton of trikes.

She's riding down the street...just like Jake.

And I'm trying to keep up...to make sure nothing happens to her...but there's only so much I can do, you know?

After all...she's going to be in high school. She's not three years old, for crying out loud!

Oh, sure. I have some control over the phone business. I understand that. She even understands that. But I'm not able to keep up with her.

I'm not supposed to. That's not how growing up works. Really only one thing I can do.

And so, my friends....I do it earnestly...right now.

"Keep our kids close to you, Father. Thank you for giving them to us for the short time we have. Keep them safe when they ride away from us. And keep us sane...and mindful of Your love for children...and especially Your love for parents of high schoolers."

Can I get an Amen?

Clean up, Clean up...everybody do your share!

2008-07-10T15:28:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I'm amazed by all the useless information I carry around in my head.

Sure, it's helpful in a trivia contest once in a while...but it makes me wonder what I could be putting in my head that might be more useful. More helpful...or healthy, maybe?

As I've been going through my home getting rid of stuff that really has no place or use anymore...well...it's got me to thinking about my mind and what's cluttering it up right now. I've got fifteen minutes. Let's de-clutter, you and I. Okay?

Great...here we are at the doorway to my mind...wow...it's a mess...where do we begin?

Ah...okay...if you'll step over that pile of 'never gonna happen' worries I've got...and follow me past that towering stack of 'times I've been right about something' reminders...oh! And watch your step there! That's a slippery mess of 'mistakes I can't seem to forgive myself for'. You slip into that and you'll be down for a few days, trust me!

Here's a garbage bag. Just toss them in there. Thanks.

What else can we get rid of? Oh...I know...there's this big ol' twelve volume set of Foolish Fantasies o' mine. I was gonna try and sell it on Ebay, you know....but I never got around to it.

Speaking of that...here's a poster. What's it say? "Procrastination-Do it NOW!" I don't really want that anymore...you can toss it.

Wait...what's this? A tiny, little locket?

Huh...I haven't seen this locket in a lonnnnnnnnnnnnnng time. Look how dusty it is.

What? What's in it?

Oh...just some things I'm grateful for. Nothing huge.

Sell it on Ebay? NO WAY! This is important to me. I don't want to part with it!

So why was it buried under those other things, if it's so important?

Hm....good question. You know what? Let's um....let's finish up this sinkful of algebraic symbols and go tackle the clutter in your MIND!

Argue all you want with me, friends...I've rarely used those!!! :)

Sudden Impact and Super Powers

2008-07-08T10:55:00.000-07:00

I got an email from a college friend today. In it he mentioned our theatre professor, Dr. Golden. I hadn't thought of Dr. G for years...but as soon as I saw his name I was transported back in time and heard him say clearly, "Qvestions?"

Not "questions?"...like normal folk would say...but "Kvest-shuns?"...with like, a German accent. The first time I heard it was Freshman Year...and he always said it like that...as he sipped his Diet Pepsi.

Dr. G was an important person for me to listen to at that time of my life. He had a lot of information to share. So I paid attention. And his words shaped who I am now...

The other day I mentioned how people pleasing is a problem of mine. And while we should not give a lot of power TO people...they do have influence in our lives, whether we like it or not.

And we have influence in other's lives. Whether we realize it or not.

Got me thinking...about the others that have impacted my life with just a few words. Some were encouraging...

like my second grade teacher, Miss Knapp.

Some...like my high school algebra teacher, Mrs. Frisbie...were NOT encouraging.

Both voices, however, are still as clear as crystal in my mind. Both shaped my thinking...

Makes me wonder.

Makes me wonder how many folks are listening to my words in their mind...(perhaps going back several years even!)...and how they are still able to hear me...loud and clear.

It's sobering.

It's humbling.

It's...um...quite frankly....terrifying.

This past Sunday a good friend asked me which super power I'd like to have. And I said I'd like to be able to breathe underwater.

Mostly because I like being in the water...

and partly because I sorta kinda have this secret crush on Aquaman.

But as I consider that question now, I think it's safe to say that we all have a super power. The power of our words.

We can use them for good.

Or for evil.

Think about that.

We are not perfect people. We say stupid things. Sometimes we speak without thinking. Sometimes we speak without thinking about the consequences of sharing our secret Aquaman crush with our friends...

hm...

Your words have impact. They have power. Use them wisely, friends.

Now...are there any....qvestions?

Carrie Hears Her Who

2008-07-05T06:29:00.000-07:00

My head is filled with things I want to say...or write...if you will.

Sorting the stuff out is always the hard part.

I think I can do it though. UNNNNNNH!

Anything written? No? Hm....maybe I can't do it. What's going on? I've sat here at my computer for about five days...er, okay...five minutes...sorting through things...and part of me is focusing on the cleverness of my writing skills.

"AH HA! Now THAT would be a good line! Write that down, C.!"

Part of me is focusing on the readers...what do I want readers to walk away with, you know?

And then...there's this tiny, little part of me...

this little part of me that is jumping up and down and shouting something...but I can't quite make it out. Can you hear it?

"What? What's that? I can't hear you!"

I lean in...closer to this little bit of a me.

And I hear it. Man, I feel kinda like an elephant in a Dr. Seuss story...hm...

Can you hear it?

What it's saying is sobering. I mean, I hadn't even realized that I WAS doing that!

Did you?

What I heard that tiny part of me saying was this: Stop paying attention to the P's! Stop paying attention to the P's!
OH! Oh....sigh...I know exactly what that means. Sheesh, I've heard it enough...but, because you may not, and because you're my friends, I'll let you in on it.

"Stop paying attention to PRIDE and PEOPLE!"
(There's another book possibility...although I don't believe Jane Austen's title was exactly that! Snort!)

Pride...

and People.

Those two things can hinder my writing SOOOOO many times! I can't even begin to tell you, my friends...how they get in my way.

Ergh!

You know what? Pride is not the same as a healthy self image, okay? Pride tells me that I am great...that it's by MY power that anything good comes out of ME...and that I don't need anyone else because, by golly....I am awesome! ALL by MYSELF!

Now...don't misunderstand me. I.am.awesome. I can do good...and I am great.

That's not the issue. However, you gotta read the fine print. Really listen to Pride. There's just a little bit that Pride says that is twisted. And wrong. And a lie.

It is not by my power that anything good comes out of me...nope. Not by a long shot.

And...and Pride tells me that I don't need anyone else.

Sigh. Pride is so pig-headed.

Pride, you see, doesn't listen to that tiny part of me.

Pride likes her own voice WAY too much. And, Pride's got a loud voice...making it easy to 'tune out' that tiny part of me.

It's a shame. But Pride's not alone! There are People!

I start listening to other people too much. Focusing on what they think about me and my writing instead of listening to that little part of me. You see, I'm supposed to care about people...but it's not my job to make them happy. That's where I get stuck sometimes. Where it becomes a jangled mess of sounds...and voices.

Pride tells me I don't need anyone else. And the People chime in and yell, "Yes! Carrie, you don't need anyone else! You just need to listen to us! We know you!"

But....I'm not so sure I believe them. I mean, if they did know me so well...they'd shut up and listen to that tiny part of me...right?

My own "Who"...if Dr. Seuss doesn't mind...

You see, I DO need Someone. And my worth...my self image...should be totally focused on what my Who thinks of me...not Pride...not People. My Who.

I need to spend time with my Who...and listen to my Who. Because what happens when I do?

My Who's less hard to hear! And His message is loud and clear!

And that is not the end,

My dear, hard-hearing friend,

You...

You yourself...

You can have a Who, too!

I'm positive about some negatives...

2008-06-30T06:28:00.000-07:00

Okay. Confession time.

I missed a credit card payment.

Do you know how I know?

They have called me four grazillion times in the past seventeen minutes.

Yeah.

I'm not exaggerating!

Seriously!

Two days late on paying a bill this month. Now, here's the thing I've been thinking about....

Why don't I get a call when I HAVE PAID THE BILL ON TIME???!!! HM???

Yeah.

I'm not exaggerating!

Seriously!

I want a phone call from them when I do good.

And it's not just them...

Last night I ask my son to hand me a bag of potato chips. He does. I say, "thank you."

He looks at me for a moment...looks away...and says, "Mom. You could say more than that."

More than "thank you."??

My curiousity is piqued. "What would you like to hear me say?" I ask.

"Outstanding! Good job!" he is animated now, "You know....nice things like that."

"My son," I begin, solemnly, "Words cannot really fully express the profound and deep gratitude I have for your selfless, generous, giving act of handing me some Sunchips. You, Sir...are more than a gentleman and a scholar. You deserve a Nobel prize for peace and selfless acts of random kindness. It is an honor to be served by you and I look so forward to our future times of sharing together."

"Yeah!" he says, "That's better."

Okay.......

look. My credit card issues and chip addictions are not what I want to talk about today. What I've been thinking about is this:

Why is it so easy for some of us (okay....me!) to focus on the negative first?

I say 'first' because my mind goes there [to the negative] first. I want to point out the 'mistake'. In fact, I should probably be working for a credit card company! I have a great phone voice and all. Of course, I would be phoning myself...so that's kinda redundant...BUT!!! I could be making money doing that...so I COULD pay my bill...and therefore NOT have to phone myself!!!! BRILLIANT!!!

(ergh. I need more coffee...you?)

Thought #1 is that I see mistakes and want to point them out. Thought #2 is this: Negatives are funny. Humorous. Let's be brutally honest for a moment. America's Funniest Videos would NOT be that funny if you didn't have cats falling into fishtanks or brides set on fire by unity candles. And don't even get me started on little kids smacking their dads in the you-know-whats, alright?

We laugh at the negatives. We do. It's like we can't help ourselves sometimes.

Laughter is not a bad thing at all.

And negatives do happen.

When I think about this a little more, I believe that part of it is our pride. We're just so relieved that we're not the one on fire (or worse) that we laugh to release that relief.

And, guess what? It's life! Accidents happen. Children make poor batting choices. Cats eat fish. It's like we can't help ourselves...

or can we?

See, here's the thing. Much like a lot of things in life...habits develop when we repeat behavior over and over again.

In college, I was so good at(and used to)using sarcasm, that when I tried to be honestly complimentary, it didn't work out so well.

Case in point: Jill Wright comes into our sorority house wearing a new dress. I say, "That is a great dress, Jill."

She looks at me, horrified, and cries out, "What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing! It's a beautiful dress!"

"There must be something wrong with it! Just say it!"

"I think it's lovely. It really goes with your eyes."

"WHAT'S WRONG WITH MY EYES!!!!?????"

sigh...

It's tough! It's hard to change...but I am trying to be more positive.

And you know what? We need positives. If, for instance, your checking account is NOT full of positives...you cannot pay your credit card on time.

See? I can be taught!

But...

BUT....we can't get rid of the negatives completely. Cars know this. You cannot run a car with a battery that's only positive. It.won't.go.

Think about a negative in your life. Something that is not right. It could be something you've done...something that's happened to you...something going on in the world now...think about it for a moment.

Now...how much time have you spent focusing on that one negative thing? Maybe you've been thinking of it the entire time you've been reading this entry. I dunno. Stop thinking of it for a second.

Okay....think for a moment about something positive...something good. Maybe you've just briefly considered it...

think about it again.

And again.

And....one more time.

Are you smiling? Are you relaxed? Are you eating Sunchips?

You know what?

It's about balance, my friends. You cannot miss your credit cards payments continually any more than you can exist on a diet of Sunchips. Accidents happen...choices are made...and we hope for balance.

At least I do. Especially for that poor cat...

Ooh! Speaking of that, I gotta go! AFV is on! And...my phone is ringing...

Never Judge a Bread by it's Banana!

2008-06-24T17:41:00.000-07:00

Last night Jacob and I are putting away groceries. As I'm handing him items for the freezer, I hear this:

"Why do we have those in there, Mom? They're gross looking!"

Before I look I think, what's grossing him out? The chopped spinach? The garlic cod? The burritos that have been there since 1995?

Closing my eyes and turning, (I get so few surprises these days you know!) I take a deep breath and look.

They're shriveled up, brown...bananas.

"Oh!" I say, "I'm saving those for banana bread."

"I ain't eatin' it!" says my son vehemently...and leaves the room.

Yeah, I think...Hannah and I will make banana bread tomorrow.

So we did that this morning, she and I.

And I got to thinking...as I was mashing them up...that Jacob was right. They were gross looking at the moment...yuck!

But after adding some other ingredients...and heat...the finished product was delicious...

and Jacob ate four pieces.

Go figure.

And as I type this, I'm thinking...that's how it can be with us. With our lives.

We all go through tough times. Hard times. Difficult times. Tragedies happen to us...and we can become brown, shriveled bananas.

And just when we think that's the worst it can get...we find ourselves mashed...and thrown into a fire....for about 60 minutes at 325 degrees...as a matter of fact.

But here's the thing: Sometimes we are so caught up in our shriveledness...our mashed life...our heat...that we forget that those are the very things we need to make us into beautiful banana bread. Warm...comforting...perfect with some coffee and a little butter...

You, my friend...are being made into someone special BECAUSE of the things that happen to you. Don't forget that.

And don't forget this. Bananas come in bunches. You're not alone. Chances are there is another banana that has been in similar shoes. Reach out to them...

(oh...and for the record...my banana bread is a little nutty...just like me!) :)

now...who wants another piece?

Chuckhole and the Chocolate Factory

2008-06-23T06:41:00.000-07:00

The other day I'm driving down the road in my Mom's Toyota Corolla. It's not a very large car, by any means, but it's faster than walking...and gets good gas mileage...two things I think highly of right now, you know?

So I'm driving down the road...and suddenly I drive INTO (that's right! I said INTO!) the largest, deepest chuckhole I have ever seen! It was like a cave! I'm serious! This chuckhole (which I just like saying more than pothole...no offense to anyone named Chuck, by the way!)was huge! And it swallowed up my car.

I bounced out of it and felt a little like a Bond martini (only shaken AND stirred!) and drove on.

Well, later...I was driving down the same patch of road...and I remembered the chuckhole, and when I reached it, I swerved around it.

Whew!

Makes me wonder about some things:

What created a hole that big?

Why hasn't it been filled in?

The obvious answers are "the weather and traffic and wear"....and "the road dept. is too busy putting detours on detours that they just haven't gotten around to shoveling in some roadpack into that pit of despair in the middle of the street there."

Okay...but I'm still wondering:

Do I have chuckholes in my life? Is there a pothole in my soul large enough to bury a Corolla in? Do you?

And when I considered that question...I was struck by all the stuff (the ridiculous stuff) I had tried to...well....stuff into my chuckhole.

Chocolate, for example.

Can you imagine a chuckhole filled with chocolate? I can see that exchange:

Two burly roadworkers...in the heat of the day...repairing a chuckhole.

"Hey, Mac! We got any roadpack?"

Mac surveys the chuckhole. "You know, I been thinkin', Bernie...

(Bernie...Mac....that's funny! Wasn't even intentional...tee hee!)

"I been thinkin', Bernie. We're not gonna fill that chuckhole with roadpack. We're gonna use a little somethin' I like to call...brownies."

Sounds silly, doesn't it? And yet...I've tried to use food to fill holes. I've tried boyfriends...and work...and money...and...and...the list goes on and on, my friends.

A computer in a chuckhole? A checkbook in a chuckhole? What if you were driving down the road and saw a guy sitting in a chuckhole?

"Hey! What're you doing there?"

"Me? Oh, Carrie put me here. You know, to fix the hole."

Even typing that...I'm feeling a little ridiculous. And not quite bright.

How about you?

My friends...I should not be in the road repair business for myself. I believe there is Someone who is much more qualified at filling the soulholes we all have...and He uses stuff much stronger and longer lasting than chocolate...or cash...or a guy named Jeff.

lovingkindness...grace...forgiveness...mercy.

All better than brownies. Believe me!

With One Condition...

2008-06-18T05:29:00.000-07:00

"Dad loves the dog more than he loves me!"

My son stomped into my bedroom and repeated himself. "Dad cares about Speedy more than his own kids!"

"Oh he does not." I reply.

"Well sometimes it feels that way." he stomped out again.

I sat there and thought about that for a moment. What was my husband doing with the dog that he wasn't doing with his son?

I looked at it another way. What was the dog doing that my son was NOT doing?

Our dog is a well-behaved dog. Really. In fact, he has one fault. He'll run for the hills if you open the door...and he will keep running. You have to go get him.

Other than that, we've had no problem with this pup. He's a good dog. Easy to take care of...cuddly...doesn't talk back when you ask him to do something. Doesn't make you repeat yourself fourteen gamillion times to pick up his room. Doesn't make that FACE at you when you ask him to stop playing video games and take out the trash.

Come to think of it, the dog's got another fault. He's kickin' my behind when we play Guitar Hero.

No...seriously.

Ah...you know I'm kidding. As you can see, when I compare the dogs behavior to that of my son's, I think that most of us would say, "Yep. I'd rather spend time with the dog."

My son is not 'easy' to love right now.

Perhaps that's the problem. Ease.

We like things to be easy, don't we? I mean, yes....a challenging 200,000 piece jigsaw is a fun way to spend a Wednesday night, but we generally want smooth sailing. We don't want to have to work really hard at something.

Especially if we think it SHOULD be easy.

You know what I mean?

Many is the time I've been totally frustrated by a project that I thought SHOULD be easy. Programming a VCR...making Jello...knitting a scarf. They've frustrated me and forced me to seek solace with the dog.

Especially making Jello. Who knew that it was so difficult?

Oh...maybe it's not difficult for you. Think of your difficult project.

Now think of a difficult person.

Now think about loving them.

Unconditionally.

Regardless of how much they frustrate you with their behavior. Regardless of how EASY you think it SHOULD be.

Now's the really hard part.

Do it.

Love them.

Because you know what? You, my friend, are not always EASY to love either. As hard as that may be for you to believe...sometimes the dog looks pretty good.

But...BUT...BUT BUT BUT...

You are loved. Deeply. Truly. Madly.

Despite your difficult-ness. Despite your un-lovable-ness.

Can you believe it? Do you believe it?

For God so loved the world...

Strength Training

2008-06-16T07:03:00.000-07:00

Once in a while, a word comes up...again and again...over and over...making me think about it's definition at great length. Here's one:

Grace

What do you think of?

Saying grace before a meal?

We call it 'the blessing' most of the time at my house...and when my son says it, he likes to add "may we all live long and prosper"....you know...the Vulcan grace....I guess.

A church name?

We attended Grace Church in Mahomet. Several churches have the word "grace" in their name.

A person's name maybe?

One of my parent's friends was named Grace. And I'm a huge fan of Burns and Allen-George Burns and Gracie Allen. "Say Goodnight,Gracie."

My family watched "Ferris Bueller's Day Off" last night...and the secretary's name is Grace.

And maybe you think of the t.v. show "Will and Grace"....or the song "Amazing Grace"...

maybe...like me...sometimes you're thinking about the 'grace period' you've got with your credit card bill.

Or you've watched "Dancing with the Stars" and thought, "My, I had no idea that Emmet Smith could be so graceful!"

Maybe you've said, "There, but for the grace of God"....

Or perhaps, (again...like me!)...you're watching PBS and someone British says, "Your Grace"...with that way cool accent.

Okay...so maybe you're not like me watching PBS....but I'd venture a guess and say that we've all used the word "Grace" in several different ways...and I'm wondering if you've considered what it means.

Could you tell someone what "Grace" is?

It's all the things I've just listed...and more.

Oh...and before I forget....thank you for gracing me with your presence today... now let's look more closely at this word "grace".

As a noun -

1. elegance or beauty of form, manner, motion, or action.
2.a pleasing or attractive quality or endowment.
3.favor or good will.
4.a manifestation of favor, esp. by a superior: It was only through the dean's grace that I wasn't expelled from school.
5.mercy; clemency; pardon: an act of grace.
6.favor shown in granting a delay or temporary immunity.
7.an allowance of time after a debt or bill has become payable granted to the debtor before suit can be brought against him or her or a penalty applied: The life insurance premium is due today, but we have 31 days' grace before the policy lapses. Compare grace period.
8.Theology.
a.the freely given, unmerited favor and love of God.
b.the influence or spirit of God operating in humans to regenerate or strengthen them.
c.a virtue or excellence of divine origin: the Christian graces.
d. Also called state of grace. the condition of being in God's favor or one of the elect.
9.moral strength: the grace to perform a duty.
10.a short prayer before or after a meal, in which a blessing is asked and thanks are given.
11.(usually initial capital letter) a formal title used in addressing or mentioning a duke, duchess, or archbishop, and formerly also a sovereign (usually prec. by your, his, etc.).
12.Graces, Classical Mythology. the goddesses of beauty, daughters of Zeus and Eurynome, worshiped in Greece as the Charities and in Rome as the Gratiae.

Wow. That's a lot of information, isn't it? Gotta love dictionary.com....

#8. caught my eye as I read through those. "the freely given, unmerited favor and love of God."

Yeah, I've heard that. I know about that. There's nothing I can do to earn it. It's a gift.

Good stuff to remember. But look at the next line.

"The Spirit of God operating in humans to regenerate or strengthen them."

I don't know about you...but there are times when I do NOT feel strong. When I can't handle the weight of the world any longer. When I could use some strengthening. When I think I'm at my weakest...the Bible has references to grace and it says "full of grace"....or "abounding in grace"..."more grace is given". It's like there's more than enough to go around. Plenty for me and for you.

Good to know. Reminds me of another reference to grace:

Turn your eyes upon Jesus

Look full in His wonderful face

And the things of earth will grow strangely dim

In the light of His glory and grace

I don't know about you....but I feel stronger already! Grace to you, my friends...

Oooooh...I hear laughter in the rain...

2008-06-03T04:52:00.000-07:00

Early this morning I was dreaming. I was dreaming that I was sleeping and there was this incredible storm with a lot of thunder and lightning. Oh. Wait.

That wasn't a dream. That WAS my early morning.

The thunder woke me up first. Then the lightning. I lay there in bed...listening to the storm...and began to almost subconsciously count "one one thousand....two one thousand" as soon as the lightning struck...and then stop when I heard the thunder. So I could tell how many miles away the storm was from me. Do you do that? I'm not even sure when I began to count miles...but I've been doing it for like, forever.

Why I count is something that also baffles me. I think I like the reassurance of 'counting' the storm away after it hits. 'Four miles away....now five...now seven.' It calms me down.

Wasn't calming the dog down, however. I felt this pawing at the bed in the middle of the storm and realized that Nina (my mom's dog who lives with us now) was very frightened. So I got up with her, and let Steve sleep...and she and I made the coffee, visited the 'little girl's room' and sat down to watch some early morning tv. Which consisted of weather updates...and paid programming ads.

As I'm flipping thru our thirteen channels (yeah, we don't have cable tv...we still think it's 1970 here in Seymour!!) to find something to watch-I land on a portion of the Carol Burnett Show.

"EXCELLENT!" I say...scaring the dog and some sparrows from a tree. I LOVE THE CAROL BURNETT SHOW! Funny Stuff.

Well, it was an ad for this DVD collection for the show. I sat there and watched the snippets...and laughed...and seriously considered actually buying something from a tv ad for the first...er, third....um (don't forget the Ronco Pocket Fisherman!) seventh time in my life.

I love to laugh. I mean, who doesn't, right? But lately....I haven't felt much like laughing.

So I sat there and smiled as I watched. And it occurred to me that I would make up a list of Twenty Five Things Guaranteed to Make Carrie Laugh.

Here they are. For your amusement. In no particular order:

25. Dogs eating peanut butter.

24. John Candy.

23. John Candy eating peanut butter. (okay...I'm sorry. I couldn't resist. Actually, I don't believe I've seen him do that. Although I'd bet the farm that he could make me laugh doing it.)

22. Old people dancing.

21. Little kids dancing.

20. Dogs dancing. (well, let's face it. Dogs doing anything 'human' is pretty funny.)

19. Daffy Duck cartoons. (when his bill falls off....heeheehee...hysteria ensues....hahaha!)

18. A well told joke.

17. A badly told joke. (Badly told? Is that right? It sounds weird.)

16. Clown cannibals. (I myself have never cared for clowns. They taste funny. *crickets chirping* sigh....well...it makes me laugh!)

15. Good impersonators. (where'd Rich Little go? When did that humor stop? I know Fred Travelina did some too....but man, I love it when someone can impersonate someone else....cracks me up. Johnny D and Drew rule in that area!!! :) )

14. John Cleese. (Anything that man does makes me laugh. I adore him.)

13. Danny Kaye. (same thing. I love his work. He's so funny!!)

12. Calvin and Hobbes.

11. Baby Blues.

10. Any of the funnies, really. (Except Prince Valiant and the Phantom. Oddly enough, I rarely smile at those when I read them. OH! And I've never cared for Frank and Earnest. They frustrate me...but that's an entirely different list....!)

9. Jacob's giggle. (I'd bottle it and sell it if I could. Again, another laugh guarantee. It's infective. You can't NOT laugh when Jacob laughs. Seriously.)

8. Hannah's stories. (it's actually not the stories that are funny, necessarily...but the WAY that Hannah tells a story is soooo comedic. I wonder where she gets that from??? Certainly not from me...I still have mine!)

7. Monkeys. (monkeys are funny. And I don't. know. why.)

6. The Monkees. (are also funny. And I do. know. why. Mickey Dolenz. Plain and simple. The guy had it going on!!!)

5. Blooper and outtake reels. (when actors crack up and can't get through the line...I laugh. Every time.)

4. Humor from people I don't 'expect' it from. (nothing makes me laugh harder than 'traditionally unfunny people' saying or doing something hysterical or witty.)

3. Real Men of Genius commercials. (beer is sooooo funny. Until, that is....someone gets hurt. Or drunk dialed. Which, actually, is sometimes pretty humorous...)

2. The Carol Burnett Show. (well, I'd feel stupid if I left it off the list!)

1. Making faces at myself in a mirror. (it's therapeutic. Really!)

So there you go. 25 things. That make Carrie Laugh. Good to remember. Now go make up your own list. I'd love to hear about it...

And now a word from a garden...

2008-05-21T05:26:00.000-07:00

Four years ago I wrote some devotioinal little things I called "Plant Ponderings" that I emailed to folks. I'm going to post them here for those of you who either can't recall what I wrote, really enjoyed what I wrote then...as well as for the new folks who have never read these.

My creative writing juices are tapped out right now. I don't get it. Something is in the way...I dunno...I do know that I've been very overwhelmed...so maybe I'm just using a lot of my energy to tread water right now...keeping my chin up. At any rate, revisiting my garden was refreshing...I hope you enjoy your visit...

"Walk with me into my garden...let's see what's planted:

I want to take a moment to talk to you about houseplants. I have one plant in my home that I think I've taken care of for about 15 years. At least! With an occasional watering (and an even more infrequent dusting) it seems to do just fine. Doesn't ask too much of me. All in all, it's a pretty easy green thing to have around. Just the way I like it.

A few years ago I received a gorgeous African violet as a gift from some co-workers in my office. While I had never taken care of a violet before, still I thought, "How hard can it be? It's a plant, right?" and I treated it as I treated my other houseplant. Badly. Oh, it did alright those two days at my office; but when I took it home, I think I had that violet in my house a total of 39 minutes before it shriveled up and died. Died a violent, violet death...you might say. And you know what?

I decided then and there that I wouldn't mess with violets. Ever. They were too hard to take care of! Too "high maintenance" for me. I'd stick with the easy houseplants, thank you very much. Besides, African violets weren't meant to live in Central Illinois anyway, am I right?

One day I was visiting someone who actually raised violets. As we admired them, I said, "Why do you bother with these? They're so....needy! You have to take such special care and mess with them all the time, don't you?"

She smiled, "Yes, they require a good deal of care...but see how beautiful they are? And I don't have too many, just a few...so it's not so bad."

Which leads me to my pondering for today: Is there a plant in your life that's a little on the 'high maintenance' side? Do you avoid taking the time to care for it's needs? Have you even neglected one to the point where it just 'shriveled up'? My friend didn't have a whole roomful of violets...she only had a few. As she cared for them, she benefitted from their beauty. Maybe you need to look closely at the plants in your garden.

And while I'm thinking about it, don't neglect the easy-going plants in your life either! While they seem to take care of themselves, they still enjoy being appreciated. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go talk to a certain houseplant. Why don't you go talk to yours? From what gardeners tell me...plants like that a lot.

Every plant could use a good word. Thanks for coming to my garden today."

Like...fer shure!

2008-05-06T17:05:00.000-07:00

Once again, I think I'm making up for lost time by writing a really long entry. And part of me wants to apologize for that...but then again...when I think about it...how much should what you think of my writing matter to me??? Hm....read on, my friends.

GLINDA: (spoken) And of course, from the moment she was born,she was - well - different...

MIDWIFE: It's coming!

FATHER: Now?

MIDWIFE: The baby's coming!

FATHER: And how!

MIDWIFE AND FATHER: I see a nose! I see a curl! It's a healthy, perfect, lovely, little -

FATHER: (spoken) Sweet Oz!

MOTHER: (spoken) What is it? What's wrong?

MIDWIFE: How can it be?

FATHER: What does it mean?

MIDWIFE: It's atrocious!

FATHERIt's obscene!

MIDWIFE AND FATHER: Like a froggy, ferny cabbage...the baby is unnaturally Green!

FATHER:(spoken) Take it away! Take it away!

-from Wicked, the Musical

In the musical Wicked, the main characters are Glinda (who you may remember from The Wizard of Oz as the "good witch") and Elphaba...the Wicked Witch of the West. This musical tells a different story about what went down in Oz...we learn more about the Wicked Witch and her beginnings...and we learn that things aren't always as they seem...

As illustrated in the scene above, when Elphaba is born she is rejected by her father. School is also a site of rejection...and so it goes. How many of us have been rejected?

I can recall in elementary school desperately wanting to be 'picked' for a team first...instead of last. Instead of hearing, "Oh...we'll take her, I guess."

Our huge ol' desire to be accepted. To fit in. To have people like us...love us...want us.

Sigh.

Sometimes it seems neverending. We want our family to accept us...our co-workers to like us...we want people to be happy...to find no faults with us.

And I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, my friends...but we are FAULT FILLED!

Yep. It's a fact. We all got 'em.

What do you do with rejection? What do you do when you get the letter that says 'we're sorry. Someone else has been given that job.'? When you pour out your heart to the person you love and they reply, "It's not you. It's me. Let's just be friends." When you submit a poem to Highlights magazine and it's like, the best poem you've ever written in your ENTIRE life (you're nine years old, after all!) and they send you a letter that says, "No thank you. We're not publishing your poem."

Maybe you do what I did.

Maybe...maybe you stop writing poetry. I mean, let's face it....Highlights magazine didn't think my poetry was good...so why write it? I determined then and there...based on some dumb editor's opinion...that my writing wasn't worth it...at least from a poetry perspective.

So I quit. Other than school assignments, poetry was a writing arena that I stayed far away from.

I let Highlights magazine define my writing ability.

Well, until I entered jr. high, that is. And I made some feeble attempts at writing some poetry about the way I felt and stuff. Just for me...just for fun.

Guess what? The other day, I found those poems (there were like, three)...and I let my jr. high-aged daughter read them.

I know...it was a courageous move on my part. I hadn't shown those poems to anyone. Heck, I don't even know why I kept the goofy things...(other than the fact that I keep (or used to) EVERYTHING...!)

I watched her face as she read them.

And you know what?

I found that I suddenly, desperately...wanted her approval of my poetry.

A second opinion, if you will.

And you know what?

She laughed out loud and said, "Pretty lame, Mom. Poetry is not your strong suit."

She then proceeded to mock each line...in her own 'cute' way.

Brutal.

Yeah, I know, I thought...my poetry is lame...so says you and the editors at Highlights...sigh.

Now...I know that my daughter loves me...but I still felt totally rejected. It was like I was nine years old again...and all that pain of the first rejection came back. With a vengance.

What do you do with rejection? When you don't feel accepted by others?

Like I said, I know my daughter loves me. But she didn't like my poetry.

So...does she like...me?

Someone said to me, "You may not like your family...but you still love them."

I've been thinking about that statement a lot. Loving people...but not liking them. As if the one is enough for us humans. And I'm not sure, but I'm thinking that love doesn't always = acceptance. I mean, I know my husband loves me...but there's a lot I can do that he'd find unacceptable.

There's doing. The things I do.

And there's being. The things I am.

Doing. Being. Loving. Liking.

Friends may not like the things we do...but they like the things we am. I mean, are.

They like us.

Makes me wonder about my relationship with God. I know He loves me...

but...

does He like me?

Right now I'm reading a book by Brennan Manning called The Wisdom of Tenderness and this is what he says:

'In a moment of naked honesty, ask yourself, "Do I wholeheartedly trust that God likes me?" And do you trust that God likes you, not after you clean up your act and eliminate every trace of sin, selfishness, dishonesty, and degraded love; not after you develop a disciplined prayer life and spend ten years in Calcutta with Mother Teresa's missionaries; but in this moment, right now, right here, with all your faults and weaknesses?'

(italics are mine.)

I think it's pretty easy for most to understand that God loves us. But this idea of God liking me...is an interesting one, don't you think?

I mean...He understands me.

And He understands rejection.

Like, totally.

Wow.

When I realize and trust and believe that the God that created me actually likes me (in addition to His love for me)...I lose the fear of rejection. When I see myself in God's eyes...I can start to see myself for the person He made me to be...not the person who does things. Like write bad poetry.

And I find that maybe...just maybe...I'm okay. And I don't need the approval of others.

Hm....God as my BFF (best friend forever)....there's an even more interesting thought!

I like you. God likes you. And Highlights magazine don't matter!

Say that to yourself today...

Oh...and yeah...you can leave out the Highlights part.

Lifetime Reading list revisited

2008-04-29T15:54:00.000-07:00

Whoa...I found my lifetime reading plan.

From college.

Actually, the date on it is May 5, 1988. Almost 20 years to the day...wow.

Dr. Guillory, (only the most awesome English professor ever!) had us put one together. There are seven categories:

World Classics
English Lit Classics
American Lit Classics
Current Best-Sellers
Science, Tech and Business
Bios and Autobios
Personal Category (dealer's choice)

40 books total.

I got an A- on the list.

What's that?

How many?

How many wha?

OH! How many books have I actually read from my list these twenty years?

Um...just a sec.

Three.

Er...really two and a half...if I'm honest...

Sigh. That's pathetic.

There are some incredible books listed! I've read books over these twenty years...so why haven't I read the ones on my list?

Well, I'll be honest. Part of my list was purely for the grade. I mean, Dr. Guillory had specific favorites of his own...which he shared in class...so I may have *cough cough* appealed to his book love interests strictly for a good grade.

I am not proud of that.

However, tell you what. I plan on reading at least half of these books this summer. I'm going to make it my goal. 20 books in 20 weeks. I think it's possible!

Do you have goals? Are you maybe beating yourself up about a goal you set but haven't achieved for some reason? I suggest you jump in where you're at and start again! Don't let 20 years go by...but if they have...there's still time!! :)

Now...which one should I read first? Walden or The Old Man and the Sea? Hm...maybe Silent Spring or The Screwtape Letters...there's also the bio on Alfred Hitchcock...that looks interesting...

Amazon.com HERE I COME!!!!

From dusty files come dewy roses...

2008-04-24T06:26:00.000-07:00

Okay...so I have been busier as the weather gets warmer...and I think my writing is suffering. I'm not feeling particularly creative...and for some reason really feel a 'performance pressure' right now. Not sure what's going on there exactly...but I'm positive it'll work itself out...in the meantime, as I've mentioned (time and again it seems!), I've been clearing out stuff from my house. Getting rid of things. Paper is my biggest problem.

Today however, I found something I'd written maybe three years ago(??)...and it had an impact on me this morning...so...I'm going to go ahead and copy it here for you to read. Enjoy it...

My Walk With Jesus....

"My walk with Jesus begins with my strolling down the road by the bike path over past Lake of the Woods towards the trailer park. I walked that road a lot when we lived there; either with the kiddos or by myself. It's a good place to be quiet...pretty remote. Most of the people stay on the bike path...I like this road. It is older, and leads to a little patch of woods.

I picked this place (three different places flew through my mind before I landed on this one) because one day I was walking there and I started singing "In the Garden". I used to sing a lot when I was younger while walking home from school. I'd sing all kinds of songs, not just hymns...but on this day in particular I was singing that song. I guess because there were billions of birds singing, and the sun was shining, and it was pleasantly cool. I was by myself at the time and the song just came out naturally. It's one of my favorite hymns.

My Jesus wears blue jeans. Faded, comfortable, broken-in blue jeans. He wears tennis shoes. And his hair is on the longish side. (I've tried to imagine Him with short hair; but too many years of Bible pictures and His "hippie" look have tainted me...and short hair on Him just doesn't 'feel right'.)

Today He's wearing a blue denim shirt. He's taller than me; though I wouldn't call Him a tall guy. He's got the popular goatee thing going on too. Really, you wouldn't look twice at Him if you saw Him in a crowd. I mean, He's not incredibly gorgeous. A little on the lanky side, actually. And His face isn't anything great...but He's got some wonderful eyes. Big, brown and warm. Smiling eyes, sad eyes, angry....even hurt eyes. He doesn't have to say anything verbally, really...because it's all there on His face.

At first I see Him from a distance of maybe, um...100 ft. or so. I know it's Him. In fact, I sense Him before I actually see Him. His hands are in his pockets. His stance is relaxed...yet expectant...like He's been waiting for me to get there, and is anxious to see me...but He doesn't have anything pressing to get to...so He's in no hurry.

I smile hesitantly. He grins. And then I grin. (When He smiles at me, He always makes me smile....even when I don't want to; when I don't feel like smiling...it's annoying sometimes!)

We walk. He falls in step with me. I tell Him why I like this place. Why I didn't picture us on a beach because I hate being hot. He laughs at that and picks up a stick. It's a stick that has bark remnants on it and He begins peeling off the bark as we talk and walk. His hands are always doing something...

I say something cliche' like, "It's nice to be here walking with You..." and He looks at me sideways for a second. He doesn't say anything, but gives the stick a toss. It doesn't go very far...

He puts His arm around me then and we keep walking in silence together. It's relaxing not having to say something. To just be with Him...moving along together...with a familiar rhythm."

I come to the garden alone
While the dew is still on the roses
And the voice I hear
falling on my ear
The Son of God discloses...

And He walks with me,
and He talks with me,
And He tells me I am His own;
And the joy we share
as we tarry there,
None other has ever known.

He speaks, and the sound of His voice,
Is so sweet the birds hush their singing,
And the melody
that He gave to me
Within my heart is ringing.

I’d stay in the garden with Him
Though the night around me be falling,
But He bids me go;
through the voice of woe
His voice to me is calling...

My friends, I encourage you to take a walk with Him today. It'll be worth it...I promise.

WILLingness to Forgive...

2008-04-21T18:45:00.000-07:00

The message yesterday at church was on forgiveness.

It was good. Altho the comment was made that it's easier for some to understand that they are forgiven than it is to forgive other people.

I dunno. Sometimes I think it would be easier to forgive other people than forgive myself.

I can be really hard on myself and carry stuff around that I don't need to mess with.

"I shouldn't have mentioned that! Why did I say something so dumb? Now she'll think I don't know what I'm doing and I'll be in big trouble! Why am I so stupid?! What's wrong with me?!"

And so on...and so on.

It's perfectionism, I think. The pressure I put upon myself to perform to some standard of whatever. It causes me to question myself and my actions TOO often...if that makes sense.

I'll dwell on my mistakes for days on end...

ugh.

How do you fix that? Well, Aaron talked about what true forgiveness looks like..."choosing to accept the blood of Jesus as full payment for what the offender did...it's not feelings based...and it's an act of will." I'm considering how that applies to forgiving myself...and it falls into the act of will area. I have to replace my negative comments about myself with something else.

That's not easy. It actually WILL take an act of will.

Like It or Lump It....and then...Love It!

2008-04-19T07:39:00.000-07:00

This is an entry that allows you to see how my crazy mind can work. Look at it as a learning opportunity...ready? Let's go!!!

Every so often, a phrase will come into my head...and I wonder 'where did that come from anyways?'

And thanks to the Internet...I can get some very interesting background info on phrases.

Which I dig. Dig like nobody's business.

That's not the phrase, by the way.

I don't care for beets.

That's not the phrase either...because I know exactly what that means.

I. don't. like. beets.

Yuck.

According to my Mom, I've NEVER cared for beets. EVER. Didn't eat 'em as a baby even. Why, you may ask?

They smell funny.

Really...really...funny. Like...'funky shoe smell' funny.

To me, anyways.

Now, I know that over the years, your tastes can change. And so, every so often, I'll try a beet. Just to see if maybe this is the year that they rise above the turnip or radish and become the "Root of My Choice" or something.

Nope. Still don't care for 'em.

Ugh.

Let's change the subject for a second, okay? I gotta get this smell of beets outta my head.

I've had a hard week. This past week has not been a very pleasant one in terms of 'fun for Carrie'. I'm sure that if we took a poll, many of you probably had parts of your week that weren't much fun either. What with tax day and all, it's a given that you encountered some difficult stuff. Maybe some difficult people.

How'd you handle it?

Did you like it?

OR

Did you lump it?

Like it or lump it...is the phrase I've been thinking about...and the phrase basically means this:

(informal) if you tell someone to like it or lump it, you mean they must accept a situation they do not like, because they cannot change it.

Hm....interesting. So, where'd it start?

The two recorded forms date from at least as early as c. 1860. . . . Dickens, 1864, 'If you don't like it, it's open to you to lump it.'

Still...I think that people have probably been saying something similar for a REALLY, REALLY LONG TIME....don't you agree?

So...what's a 'lump' anyways?

Turning now to the Oxford English Dictionary:
: LUMP, v. 1. intr. To look sulky or disagreeable . . .: [Quotation:] 1577 "They stand lumping and lowring . . . for that they imagine that their evill lucke proceedeth of him." : 2. trans. In antithesis with "like": To be displeased at (something that must be endured), colloq.: [Quotations:] 1833 "Let 'em lump it if they don't like it." . . . 1878 "I'll buy clothes as I see fit, and if anybody don't like it, why they may lump it, that's all."

Well, there you go.

You don't have a choice. I mean, it claims that you have a choice...you can choose to like it or not....but the situation itself is not changing...so...you're stuck with the lump.

'Stuck with the lump' is fun to type. Even more fun to say aloud. Say it with me...'stuck with the lump'.

You know what?

My husband likes beets. There are several people close to me that like beets. And you know what I do?

Each Christmas I will make Harvard Beets for the beet eaters in my family. I don't enjoy it...but I lump it. Because I love them and respect their beet-likin'...no matter how inconceivable it is to me that anyone could like beets.

Another thought: (please bear with me...like I said, it's been a rough week!)

Not everyone likes me.

As hard as that is for me to believe...I mean, c'mon...it's ME for crying out loud! If I am anything, it's likable.

So what's wrong with people that don't like me? (all three and a half of them)

Nothing.

I'm just a beet to them. That's all.

I'm someone's beet.

(snort! That's fun to type as well. Even more fun to say aloud. Say it with me: I'm someone's beet.)

heeheeheeheeheeheeheehee

Okay...so...where are we?

Like it or lump it....we're stuck with the lumps...and I'm someone's beet. Right. Got it.

Now...hopefully, those whose beet I am...while they may not like me...will still treat me with respect because they recognize the fact that someone else likes me...maybe to someone...I'm their 'root of choice'.

Do you do that with your beets? Do you respect them...recognize that Someone likes them...and therefore acknowledge them...at least once a year?

Yet another thought: (I really apologize about this lengthiness...but I have been seriously thinking about this for the past week now...and I think it's starting to make more sense to me.)

I got an email from someone today. A forwarded email that said, "Love the people who treat you right. Forget about the ones who don't...because life is short."

Hm. What if I altered it a little? So that it read: "Love the roots who treat you right. Forget about the beets...because life is short."

That doesn't sound like what I trying to do. As much as I'd LOVE to 'forget about the beets'...my beet-eatin' family members remind me about them every so often.

You know what else it says? "Love".

Now, I don't "love" turnips or radishes. I like them. But I don't know that I love them.

Hm...love. I've been seriously thinking about love lately. Unconditional love.

Why?

Because some of the things that have happened this week have made me consider it. And so I ask questions. Do I conditionally love? Or is my love unconditional? Do I like everything that happens to me? Do I like all the people I have to interact with? How do I love them when I don't even know that I like them? What am I supposed to do?

Hm....hard stuff to consider. Especially difficult when I get what seems to be conflicting answers.

Like it...or lump it.

BUT....is that it?

I think...as I mentioned...that we don't have control over the situations that come our way sometimes. THAT'S what we have to "lump".

But that's not all. That's not the end...there's more.

We don't have to like something...but we do have to love it.

Like my beets.

I don't like the beets. But I can see their value to others. I can see that they have a purpose for being here on Earth. That because there are people I love that like them....then I can love them based on that love.

Does that make any sense? Therefore, I don't like beets. BUT I love them.

The beet is not important to me...but it has importance. So I need to treat it that way.

Thankfully, there's Someone I know who loves each and every beet.

Like it or lump it...

Enough

2008-04-14T06:12:00.000-07:00

As I sat down this morning to consider what to write about...I glanced at my water glass.

It's one of those $26,238 ones that you know, you get from the hospital when you've been a patient there. My Mom got it last year and I like it because it's numbered (like a measuring cup) with ounces and metric something or other than means pretty much nothing to me...but lots to those hospital folks.

I like seeing how much I've got in my glass. It's a 32 ounce cup and right at the moment that I glanced at it...the water line was at 16 ounces.

Yep. Exactly halfway.

EXACTLY!

Like Goldilocks...it's 'just right'. Not too much. Not too little. Balanced. Even.

How often does that happen??

Like never!

At least, it seems that way to me sometimes. I don't know about you, but I get tired of fighting the constant battle of ENOUGH.

"I haven't got enough time to clean my room!"

"I've had just about enough of that backtalk from you, young man!"

"There isn't enough flour to make the banana bread. I'll have to get more."

"There's more than enough banana bread! Please! Take some with you!"

"Is there enough gas in the Jeep to get to town?"

"I've spent enough money on gas for the Jeep this past week!"

"My swimsuit from last year isn't big enough for me now."

"Have I got enough days to diet before summer starts so I can fit into that swimsuit?"

I think you get the picture.

Too much. Too little.

We are so interesting. We want more than we need. On the other hand, we'll fall short and not have an adequate amount of something...whether it's money...or time...or flour for banana bread.

We are not easily satisfied. Sigh...

It's hard to deal with enough sometimes. We want so desperately to have more than we already have...and then again...perhaps we've dealt with something for so long that we are more than ready to get rid of it. It's too much. Like five loaves of banana bread. If I eat another bite...I'll explode! I can't take anymore.

I've. had. enough.

Hey, wouldn't it be cool if we were all marked like my water glass? It would be easier to deal with each other, wouldn't it?

"Oh...look. She's at 24 ounces right now. She can handle a little more."

"Um....is she running way over 32 ounces?? Maybe I shouldn't bother her right now. Looks like she's got enough to deal with."

Enough.

Hm...

There's Someone who knows all about enough. And guess what? His grace is exactly that...

Would you like fries with that?

2008-04-09T10:22:00.000-07:00

Father Tim said, "We both know we can't second-guess what tomorrow will bring...but it seems to me that you have nothing to worry about."

Uncle Billy lowered his head for a moment. When he looked up, there were tears in his eyes. "Thank you, Preacher."

"No, Uncle Billy, thank you. I believe the Holy Spirit has shown me a sermon in your predictament."

The disciples had been repeatedly instructed with one simple word: Ask. Uncle Billy, like much of the rest of humanity, had spent precious years worrying instead of asking.

-Jan Karon's At Home in Mitford

In the early days of my relationship with my husband, I recall a time where he witnessed me asking someone who was going out for lunch to please 'buy me some french fries'.

"Did you just ask Joe to buy you french fries?" Steve asked.

"Yep." I responded cheerfully.

"You don't think he's really going to buy you fries, do you?" Steve said, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Well," I remember saying, "It doesn't hurt to ask, does it?!"

Later, while I munched on my free french fries, I had to admit that it did not hurt to ask. In fact, it was very pleasant, thank you very much!!

However, (all too often it seems sometimes!) we do not ask. Instead, we assume.

And that can be a very bad thing to do, can't it? Assuming can cause us to worry, like Uncle Billy, or keeps us angry for three months straight...avoiding people...all because we didn't do one simple thing: Ask.

Leads me to the question: What are we afraid of? Why don't we ask more often?

We spend a lot of unnecessary energy worrying and being angry...over things that...if we just asked...might not require that anger or energy from us.

Assuming...and not asking....keeps us in the dark. Without french fries. If I had assumed that Joe wouldn't buy me fries...I'd be without them. Asking gave me better odds. There was still a chance that he wouldn't buy me the fries...but...I left that control to him, didn't I?

You know what I think? I think it's our pride that causes us to assume. We can tend to think that we're so important....(or so unimportant) that we can't ever have this or that or we deserve this or that because of our 'importance'...and we're disappointed when we don't get what we assume for. (yeah....I said "assume for"....instead of "ask for").

You will always be disappointed, my friends, when you assume for....instead of ask.

I don't know about you, but I don't like pain. So why cause myself additional pain by assuming something...instead of asking?

Think about your assumptions today. And don't forget to ask Someone for help.

Oh, and if anyone's going past a Mickey D's today....could you get me some fries? Thanks!!

I'll Fly Away

2008-04-08T05:59:00.000-07:00

Birds are noisy.

Well...the birds are noisy at my house. The windows aren't even open and I can hear those grackles (or blackbirds...or whatever they are!) just singing (calling? cawing?) out some birdsong this morning.

Here....sit quietly with me. We'll listen together. Do you hear that?

It's kinda pleasant really.

Out of all of the animals, fish, and creatures out there...birds fascinate me the most. I don't know if it's my fear of heights...but I like watching birds. I'll watch birds fly. I saw three Heron(s?) fly over my head yesterday morning as I was driving. I almost stopped the Jeep and got out to watch them. They were huge and so....ah....it's hard to explain.

I like birds.

On SNL the other night the question posed to Christopher Walken was "Would you rather have the power of invisibility or the ability to fly?"

I wondered about that. What would you choose? (He said both...btw.)

I've felt invisible before. I've felt as if no one sees me...or hears what I'm saying...and I don't think I'd choose that. It wasn't really that pleasant.

But flying?

Hm....flying could be cool. But flying kinda frightens me. Being so high off of the ground? Not sure about that...and yet...

and yet how freeing it must feel to be able to fly. You know, like a Heron...or a Grackle.

Sometimes I feel like just flying away from everything. When I want to get away from all the pressures of life. When I get weighted down with worry...and anxiety attaches itself to me...when my heart feels heavy.

It's then that I think...well, if I WERE a bird...there's no way I could get off the ground with all this gear! All this baggage I'm carrying with me! Think of the wingspan I'd need! Rocket fuel is probably a better option!!

And it's at those times that I'm reminded then that Someone cares for me even more than He cares for the birds...(and He does care about birds!)...so why worry? Why be anxious? Why keep all that stuff stuck inside?

Instead, my friends...do as I am doing. Give it to Him.

And you know what? When I do that...I feel as light as a feather...

Words are made of letters....letters are made of words

2008-04-07T06:07:00.000-07:00

The other night I asked my son if he knew where the remote control had disappeared.

"I D K. My BFF Jill?" was his response.

I looked at him and blinked. Repeatedly.

The fact that I even knew what he was saying kinda disturbed me...almost as much as his believing that the answer was helpful in any way.

The kids are speaking a different language today...it happens.

In fact, I was talking to a teen yesterday and they said to me (as they were leaving)..."I'll send you a text message!"

"Okay! Thank you!" I called back...thinking, Why in heaven's name would I want one? Hm...I mean...I D K about text messages....

Another teen (I saw A BUNCH OF THEM yesterday, okay?) mentioned that they were up at 4 a.m. text messaging their girlfriend.

Information I did not need to know!!

I got out my soapbox.

The teen asked me what on earth that thing was.

I ignored the teen and began to preach about the damaging effects of text messaging vs. writing.

"How personal can that be?" I asked. "You know what you need? You need to write her a good love note!"

The teenager blinked.

Repeatedly.

"A wha?"

Suddenly I felt like I was 189 years old! "Back in the 'good ol days'....see....we had this incredible stuff called "paper". You could do all sorts of things with it...it was cheap...why...everybody had some! Some drew on it...others made incredible paper flyin' machines....but what I liked to do with paper was write on it. Of course, you need a pen or a pencil to do that. And you gotta be careful! If you don't use them properly, you could put an eye out! You ever wrote anything?"

Honestly (sighing heavily now), because I'm blogging...you can see for yourself that I'm part of the technological age. But still...I'm telling you...just like low fat ice cream....some things just should not have substitutes.

And a love letter is a wonderful thing.

I was a senior in high school. And so was he. And I got grounded. Now that particular story is for another time....but suffice it to say that I wasn't allowed to leave the house (except for school) and I couldn't have friends over (which included boyfriends....sigh). For a week.

So...at school, my boyfriend and I came up with a plan. There was this big ol' tree in my backyard. He would leave notes there for me in the morning...and I would leave notes for him there in the afternoon and he'd pick them up after work.

It was the longest week of my life.

It was also one of the best.

I still have one of those letters. It says so much good stuff that I re-read it occasionally. I just can't throw it away.

Text messaging is very convenient...but nothing says "I Love You" like writing "I Love You" on a good ol' piece of looseleaf. You can look at it again...and again...and again.

Letters are powerful stuff.

Recently I wrote a letter to someone. And they wrote their own letter to someone. Imagine what might happen to folks if we all took the time to write a letter to someone and tell them how much they mean to us?

I think some very cool things might happen. I'm willing to try it....are you?

And if you say, "I D K",....um....I'm sorry...but I might have to smack you with my Trapper Keeper notebook! BFF or not...!

A League of My Own

2008-04-01T05:44:00.000-07:00

It's the first day of April. And you know what that means...

it's about time for baseball.

My most favorite time of year! Woo Hoo!

(ahem....um....April Fool's...!)

If you know me at all...you know that baseball season is not a huge priority for me. I have tried to pay enough attention to the sport to show my friends that I care...but I still struggle when it comes to actually playing the game.

Here....I'll give ya a 'fer instance'.

I believe it was in the springtime of my sophomore year of high school...I had just dressed for gym class...and we were headed outside. To play some baseball. Only for us girls...it's called softball. Oh, they want you to think that there's a difference...and there is! The BALL IS BIGGER! Still hurts just as much when it bounces up into your face, folks...there's no difference there....!

But I digress...that's not the point of this story.

So, my team is batting. I'm standing there in a line with the other gals next to the fence and I'm trying to pay attention, but it's tough. I had an English paper to think about...and band...and Robby Reber...and driving. Softball was probably the furthest thing from my mind.

But then it's my turn to bat.

In my five years of 'serious' gym class...I'd batted maybe...five times. Total.

Not my favorite thing to do at all.

I don't know if my being left handed had anything to do with it or what...but I usually struck out. I figured that today would be no different.

However, I surprised myself by actually hitting the ball! On the first try!

I stood there...in amazement.

The girls on my team started yelling at me. "Run! Go to first base! Go!"

Words I'd never heard before.

Suddenly I found myself trying to recall the rules of baseball...run to first base...just get to first, C.

I start running towards a girl that I think is the first baseman. And my teammates begin screaming at me.

"That's not it! Go back!"

In the meantime...amidst all this excitement...the girls on the other team are getting the ball and are throwing it to each other bringing it closer to me with each toss. I am frantic now...searching for the base. WHERE IS IT?

As I'm trotting back and forth between these two gals, searching for the base...one tags me with the softball and Mrs. M., the p.e. teacher, hollers that I'm out.

I walk off the diamond. I want to cry.

(I didn't know then that there's no crying in baseball!)

As I walk past Mrs. M. she's chuckling. "Oh Carrie! You're so funny! Where were you going?"

"I was trying to get to first." I say.

"You were clear over by second! Where did you think it was?"

"Well the grass is way too tall! They need to mow." I said. I go sit down in that tall grass and consider how much I really hate p.e. And baseball. And being out.

Being out is the worst.

The game continues on and I find myself eventually holding the bat in my hand again. Sigh. Maybe this time I'll strike out. C'mon...throw the ball and let's get this pain over with quickly, I think.

This girl Bonnie pitches the ball and I do something I have never done in my life.

I hit the ball with the bat for the SECOND TIME!

I hesitate for a moment. Watching where the ball goes. If they catch it, I'm out. But this time will be different! This time I know where first base is! I run at my top speed (which isn't really very fast) towards the base.

As I'm about to touch it, the girl on first gets the ball. My foot comes down a split second before she touches my arm with it.

"SAFE!" I hear Mrs. M. call out.

I realize that I haven't taken a breath in like...what seems....15 minutes.

I exhale. The relief I feel coursing through my body is incredible. I'm on first base! It's amazing here! The grass is greener! The air smells sweeter!

I grin at the gal near me. "Good job," she says.

"Thanks." I say. "Um...Sandy?"

"Yeah?"

"Where's second base?"

She rolls her eyes at me and points in the general direction.

I nod. I was SAFE! Do you understand how incredible that is!?

Safe.

I experienced that same feeling yesterday. I had spent most of my day dejectedly feeling 'out'...feeling uncoordinated, untalented...misunderstanding the whole game of life. I felt like I was letting my teammates down because I wasn't 'playing the game well'...I felt miserable.

But I got a call late in the day from someone that helped turn that around. A close friend, who...with a few words...reminded me that I'm safe.

Reminded me that even when I'm not playing my "A game"...that I am still a valuable teammate.

Reminded me that it is so important to make myself vulnerable enough to someone that they know me...really know me well...and still like having me around.

Those relationships are not simple...or easy to come by. They can take a lot of time to develop and grow.

But they are sooooooo worth it.

I am very grateful for my friends. I appreciate them more than they could ever imagine. In my game of softball with them....I am safe. Never out.

(Which is totally different than the game of softball I played in 1984. Sigh. I never did make it to second base...Lisa Anderson caught the next hit and then it was time to go inside.)

Ah well....like those Cubs fans say, "There's always next year!"

Remember to tell a friend how much you care about them today....

I like me...

2008-03-28T06:45:00.000-07:00

"Just when you think you know the answers, I change the questions." -- "Rowdy" Roddy Piper

Del: "You wanna hurt me? Go right ahead if it makes you feel any better. I'm an easy target. Yeah, you're right, I talk too much. I also listen too much. I could be a cold-hearted cynic like you... but I don't like to hurt people's feelings. Well, you think what you want about me; I'm not changing. I like... I like me. My wife likes me. My customers like me. 'Cause I'm the real article. What you see is what you get."

I had a rough day yesterday. Sigh.

It happens to all of us, I know.

Still, I was really disappointed in how I handled some things that came up.

And what did I do about it, you ask?

I began to beat myself up about it.

Let's talk about this for a moment, okay?

My friends, I have a guilty pleasure.

(And because you are my friends...I will tell you about this. But you have to promise not to laugh...or judge me...okay?)

I am a fan of professional wrestling.

I have been since the 7th grade. When I saw Rowdy Roddy Piper...a 'real man in a kilt'...ahhh.

I have tried to get over it...I understand that it's fake and all...I know it's nothing like 'real' wrestling.

And I still don't care. I enjoy watching it. And admit it...it's got some 'good theatre' stuff goin' on!!
Okay...so you don't have to admit anything...and it really doesn't matter if you want to argue with me about it...because...like Del Griffith...I'm not changing.

But yesterday...

yesterday I found myself wrestling with something...

wrestling with some miscellaneous gal's opinion of me.

("Let's get ready to RUMMMMMMBBBBLLLE!" In this corner of the ring....CARRIE!")

And I found myself caring way too much about it.

(OOMPH! "Oh, you know what, Gorilla? That's gonna leave a mark! Carrie is really feelin' some pain now! What do you think she'll do next?")

Oh, I tried to laugh it off at first.

("She's going for the laugh, Bobby. A move that just might work!")

But it didn't stick.

(POW! "Oh...too bad! She couldn't hold onto that laugh, Gorilla. She's not looking happy!")

I changed to doubt. Maybe this person was right about me...

(BAM! "What is going on with Carrie? She hasn't seen a low like this for a while! She's DOUBTING HERSELF? Ohhh...I don't like the looks of this match, Bobby.")

I longed for a tag team match. I wanted someone in my corner...you know, to verify me.

("She's looking around, Gorilla...for a partner....but this is not a tag team match! It's ONE on ONE! What is she thinking?")

I considered hitting below the belt. An eye for an eye. Insult me, will you?? Why...I'll just get in there and show you, Miss Cellaneous Gal! I'm the Champion of the Verbal Attack, remember?!

("If I know Carrie, Bobby...she's considering using one of her old standby moves...the Verbal Attack. It could be useful to her right now!" "I agree, Gorilla. Not many can handle that kind of action. But she hasn't sunk to that kind of low in a long time!" "Let's see what she does!")

I went to bed and slept on it.

("Gorilla! It's a sleeper hold...not a Verbal Attack!" "Bobby...it's a good move. But will it help her?")

It helped some. But the match wasn't quite over...

("We're still here, folks! And this battle isn't over yet! Both opponents have a good chance at winning! Let's get back to the action! Carrie is still letting Miss Cellaneous Gal's remark get to her! She's running it over and over in her head! Oh! The humanity! I can't watch this, Gorilla!!")

It wasn't looking good. But then...

("Bobby! Look! She's down! Wait! Who's that?")

I remembered Whose opinion counts. That there is Someone WAY STRONGER than Miss Cellaneous Gal. Someone on my side....my Manager!

("This is incredible, folks! Just incredible! Carrie's manager has just entered the ring and is speaking to Carrie. And look, Bobby! She's getting up!")

I spoke to my Manager...who told me that I didn't need to win this match. Because it had already been decided...and I was not....a loser.

("SHE'S LEAVING THE RING, GORILLA! She's limping...holding onto the hand of her Manager and leaving the ring! Unbelievable!" "Not if you know anything about Carrie's Manager, Bobby!")

My friends...I tell you encouraging things because sometimes it's hard for us to tell them to ourselves, isn't it? Sometimes we start to believe the lies about ourselves...maybe because we've heard them over and over again. Maybe because we're listening to the wrong people. People who don't even know us...and make assumptions based on very little info.

My words aren't meant to sound clever or cute...or cliche'...or to make you feel all warm and cuddly inside...even tho it may appear that way. I'm still just a person with an opinion...just like you. And you can choose to believe me or not...but listen to me for a second, okay...?

You see, I've been listening to my Manager...and He's so...so...so...good at Truth. And He wants to be your Manager too! And any words of encouragement I've learned...I learned from Him.

I like me. My Manager likes me...and really...in the end...that's all that matters...

Who wants to be amazing?

2008-03-27T05:51:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I got online and checked to see when we could expect our tax refund money to arrive at our bank.

It's kinda important.

You see, we need to put a roof on our house and we could also use a new mattress. Okay...we want a new mattress. I also want a new dining room table and chairs...but I don't think that's gonna happen.

At least not with the refund money.

We'll have to think of something else in regards to the table and chairs. And since you asked...

(you DID ask, right?)

There isn't anything technically wrong with the table and chairs we have in there right now. They just don't match the rest of the look of the room. They're fully functional. But they're the wrong color. And if we got a new one...our room would be amazing!

At least...that's what I tell myself. You know...to try and justify my want.

Cuz that's what it is, friends!

It's a want. Not a need.

Sigh...took me a while to work that out...

However, we NEED a new roof. We have put it off for far too long, and before we start seeing some really serious damage...we have to replace it.

And for the record....I don't care what bloomin' color the roof is....we just need a new one!

Got me to thinking about wants and needs...

sigh...

I hate thinking about things like that sometimes. You know...sometimes...just for a little while....I like to think about all the stuff I could buy if I had cash at my disposal. If money were no object...

Then I turn on the tv and there's Oprah.

Now...please understand, my friends...that I am NOT a regular Oprah viewer. In fact, I don't care much for her show. But this particular program was about hoarding and clutter. So I found the subject matter interesting.

If you may recall, I've been in a process of de-cluttering my house. Getting rid of stuff that I don't want or need anymore.

It's been quite freeing. And it's easier to clean the house when there's less stuff.

When I saw all the things that the people on the show had piled in their house...it was eye opening.

Wow...too.much.stuff.

And you know why? There were issues of want.....versus....need.

(she gingerly steps onto her soapbox)

Friends, Romans, Countrymen...lend me your ears...

Stuff doesn't make you feel better. Stuff doesn't solve your problems. Stuff doesn't give you control.

Stuff hurts. Stuff causes more problems. And in the end, your stuff will control you.

(she gets off the soapbox and puts it away)

We justify our purchases. We say, "I need this thing because...."

and sometimes...like putting off getting a new roof for five years....it's truth. We DO need that thing. I think that we'd all agree that a home isn't very good without a roof.

but if we say, "I need a new table and chairs...because even those these work just fine...they don't match the rest of my stuff."...

we're using the wrong word. We WANT a new table and chairs. We already have a table and chairs...but they're not enough.

Hm....

Not enough.

I think about those words want and need in other areas of my life as well.

I want people to understand me. I need help with things. I want to be happy.

(I need to get a check up...and oh...by the way....I don't want to get a check up.)

Maybe I need people to understand me. I want help with things. I need to be happy.

It's interesting how using the other word makes the sentence sound different...isn't it?

There's a fine line between self-centeredness (I want that!)...and survival (I need this.).

And you know what?

You know what?

I can't determine which side you're on. Not all the time. Only you can determine what's truth about the dining room table and chairs in your home. Maybe...you do NEED them.

But I do know this. LISTEN TO ME. You are not your stuff.

Stuff is not what makes you a good person or a bad person. Stuff is...is just...stuff. You came into this world without any stuff...and they say that you can't take it with you when you go...so...what you have in the way of things isn't what makes you special.

Or smart. Or caring. Or funny. Or amazing.

You know what?

You know what? You are amazing. Look in the mirror and tell yourself today that you don't need stuff to be amazing.

My friends, I want you to have a good day. And I need another cup of coffee...

No...seriously. I need it.

Okay...okay....I want another cup of coffee. Sigh...

(I gotta be more careful about what I write about....sheesh...)

Take the first right and keep on goin'!

2008-03-26T05:42:00.000-07:00

Last week I went to a parents meeting for incoming freshmen. My daughter will be one of those incoming...(look out!!! INCOMING!!!!) and I'm not quite sure I'm ready...(wait...who's the incoming one again???)

So that's what the meeting was about. To help parents get ready. Specifically, it was about helping the freshmen-to-be work out their class schedules for the fall. The guidance counselors were there...available for questions...and to provide updated info on some things.

Like drivers education.

Because of law changes in Illinois, kids have to have nine months with a permit. That means that the classes themselves have to be 'backed up' to allow that time...so there are freshmen taking drivers ed now. Hurrah.

It'll be okay, Carrie.

Yeah, I know. I was just a little freaked out there for a second. Freshmen. Drivers Ed.

Whoa.......(shakes it off)

Sorry, talking to myself a little. It happens sometimes when I'm afraid I'm not listening.

Anywhoo.....

I remember something that happened early in my own driving career. I hadn't had my license for very long...and my sister and her friend wanted to go to Market Place Mall. So the three of us piled into my Mom's Plymouth Horizon...(stop sniggering!) and down the interstate we went.

(We're off to see the Mall....the wonderful Market Place Mall...we hear it is...a heck of a biz...if ever a biz at all...)

(Don't even ask. I have no idea where that just came from. I would like to take this moment to clarify that we were most likely singing along to Boy George and Culture Club...NOT making up our own words to the Wizard of Oz...but that's not much consolation, is it??)

Okay...so we get to the Mall...and (I'll tumble 4 ya...I'll tumble for you! ahem...sorry!) and I park outside of Bergner's. Now there are three potential entrances to Bergner's at the Mall (if my memory is serving me correctly...which...given the way the blog sounds so far...well, don't take my word for it!). We park the Horizon...lock it up...(snort...like there was a chance someone would steal it???!!) and head inside.

Long story short...

we power window shop...stop by Baskin-Robbins...get a cone...stop by Spencer's Gifts to check out the cool posters in the back....sigh...(all out of Bruce THE BOSS Springsteen AGAIN!)...and head past Camelot Music and listen to more Boy George....(okay...no...we didn't do that. Well, I'm pretty sure we stopped by Camelot's...but we didn't listen to Boy George....at least I didn't. I'm not going to speak for my sister. Or Wendy...her friend. Altho I will say that Wendy was a prime candidate for some Boy George music...but I digress!)

So...we get ready to leave said Mall...and walk out of Bergner's...happy go lucky teens that we are. (er...were.)

And head for the Horizon.

Which...isn't...where...I...parked....it.

Hm.

Huh.

Wow.

Well...um...hm.

That went on for about ten minutes...and then panic set in. "THE CAR'S BEEN STOLEN! AUGH! WHAT ARE WE GONNA DO???!!! STUPID MALL!!! DO YOU REALLY WANT TO MAKE ME CRY????"

(can't. stop. Culture. Club. help!)

Someone...I'm going to give the credit here to Wendy...altho I'm not sure it actually belongs to her...but I KNOW I wasn't the 'voice of reason' at that moment....said,

"Hey...when we went in...we went past the women's section. But didn't we come out past the shoes or something?"

We blink. We look at each other. We turn and look at the door. We head back inside and sure enough...we had exited the building out of a different door...and....as parking lots look all the same...really...we thought we were in the right place...but we weren't.

Out the correct door we go...and there is the Plymouth. Waiting for us. Safe and sound.

I felt very foolish. And we all pinky swore never to tell anyone about it.

Um.......

Hm.

Well.

Wow.

I...um....I just blew that. Yeah...yeah I did. So...could you keep that story to yourself? Thanks.

Recently I offered to give someone directions to my church...(in the church of the poison my hi hind....in the church of the...no! Not that church!! augh! I cannot get Boy George out of my head now!!!!)

and their response to my offer was, "My car's got GPS. I think I can find it just fine. Thanks."

And my response was, "You've got GPS in your Plymouth Horizon? Really?"

(no...snort...that wasn't my response! What is my problem today??)

Perhaps the days of asking folks for directions are gone now...but we still need to know where we're headed, don't we? We still need someone/something to help us find our way to our destination. Whether we're freshmen looking for our Biology 1 class at a new school...or teens at the mall...wandering in the parking lot and crying their eyes out afraid of the wrath of their mom for letting the Horizon get stolen or...ahem...or just driving somewhere...we could all use a little assistance from time to time.

My friends...it's easy to think that you're on the right track...when you're actually exiting by the shoe department and going out the wrong door. It doesn't take much of a wrong turn to get you into trouble. So ask for help. Seek some guidance. Ask for directions. You know...for when you 'come and go'...

(you come and go.....oh...oh....Karma Karma....OKAY! That's it! Enough! I'm putting on my headphones and listening to something else on my new MP3 player...um...could somebody read the directions for me? I don't know Japanese...sigh...where's a teen when you need them??)

At auction, this piece would be worth...

2008-03-24T03:53:00.000-07:00

There's a game we play on Monday evenings at our house sometimes.

It's a companion game to a television program.

Where we (my family) try to guess the value of something before the expert tells us.

Have you ever seen Antiques Roadshow?

People bring their 'stuff' to the 'stuff experts' at AR...and they (the experts) tell people how valuable (or not!) their stuff is.

If you like antiques, watch the show.

If you like to learn about history, watch the show.

If you want to know how much that old thingamajig is that's sitting on your shelf, watch the show.

If you want to see some really ugly, valuable stuff...watch the show.

Seriously.

There's some really, really, really weird stuff on AR.

And when we're playing the 'guess the worth' game...inevitably I want to say that the ugly stuff isn't worth as much as the shiny stuff.

Sometimes that's the case. Sometimes...according to the 'stuff experts'...the damage to a piece affects it's worth. Books are notorious for this. Quilts are notorious for this. Pottery is too. Furniture is as well.

Artwork...can sometimes have this problem...but so often the 'stuff experts' tell folks how they can repair or restore the artwork.

Books and pottery, quilts and furniture are not like artwork. They don't just hang prettily on a wall generally.

They're used. They get dirty...and handled...on a daily basis.

They give us comfort, entertain us, inform us, keep us warm....give us a place to put a drink in...and a place to put a drink on. They serve...and by serving...they can become damaged.

Sometimes the damage is from someone else's hand. The pottery gets chipped, a page falls out of the book, the quilt frays...or becomes faded...and the handles don't always match.

And the 'stuff experts' tell folks that they aren't worth much.

Because they aren't in pristine condition. Because they're damaged.

So the worth is measured by others. The 'stuff experts'...and me....as I watch.

Sometimes I'm right. Or close.

Most of the time...I'm way off! I had no idea that that whozeewhatsit was worth that much!

What's really funny to watch is the reaction of the owners of the stuff. When they find out the value of their items.

Some are so surprised that they cry...or laugh in disbelief...or stand there...speechless.

Some are upset because they paid too much for their item.

Some are not happy because they find out that what they thought was authentic...was actually fake.

To some...the object is a family heirloom that...no matter the cost...they (the owner) would never part with it.

To others...the 'garage sale bargain' is found out to be worth a lot...and you can actually see the dollar signs in their eyes as they consider what might happen if they sell it.

A person can learn a lot from Antiques Roadshow. If they look close enough.

Imagine for a moment...that you are an object on AR.

Are you damaged? Very old? Fake? Authentic? In pristine condition? A family heirloom? A book? A lamp? A piece of pretty art? A garage sale bargain? Weird looking?

Now...consider for a moment who is measuring your worth. Are you more interested in what the 'stuff experts' think of you? Or the goofy people who like to look at you and 'guess'...?

Now...think about this: Think about the folks who don't care how much the 'experts' say their stuff is worth...because they will never part with it. Regardless of the price they paid for it...or how damaged it is...or how much the stuff could be worth at auction....they clutch it to their hearts and say, "It's mine. I love it. I will not let it go."

My friends, there is Someone clutching you to His heart today. And He knows exactly how much you are worth...ripped pages, cracks, weird-looking...He knows...and He will not let you go.

Gene Kelly knew what he was doing!

2008-03-18T15:16:00.000-07:00

It's raining here right now...sigh...it's rained all day.

I'm a little tired of it.

Okay. I'm MORE than a little tired of it.

I'm SOOOOO Ready for some sunny weather!!! AUGH!!!!

I mean, I normally enjoy rain. I like how things smell after a rain....and I like the sound of rain on the roof...and how everything looks brighter after it rains. But I'm missing the sun. And that kinda annoys me.

So what do I do when I'm annoyed...and it's raining?

Yep...you're right. I get on my computer. And waste time. Most recently I've been wasting time on Facebook. There's an application on there called, "Have you ever...?" and you answer questions like, "Have you ever lied about your age?" (who, me? Wha? Never!) and "Have you ever licked the bottom of your shoe?" (again, who...me? Wha? Never! Well...there was that one time...you know...when I was um...3 years old...and I might've maybe licked my shoe...but it's not like I have a shoe lickin' problem!!)

But I digress....

Anyways...one of the questions was, "Have you ever danced in the rain?"

Hm....I had to think about that one.

I know I've walked in the rain. Sometimes voluntarily...

I know I've driven a car in the rain.

I know I've ran in the rain. To roll up car windows...

But have I ever danced in the rain?

It's a good question.

I like dancing.

I like rain. Usually.

But have I ever put the two together??

It got me to thinking...

How many times in my life have I been 'rained on'...and 'danced' in it??

How about you?
Do you dance in the rain? Do you find yourself positively moving in the midst of a cloudy time?

Lemme ask you this.

Do you dance with others in the rain? Do you partner up with someone during their thunderstorm and join them in the song?

To see the good in the middle of a bad thing. That's cool. Is it easy? No....

But you know what? It doesn't rain every single day! I mean, it's not like we're in a rain forest!
It's not like we have to make ourselves dance in the rain every day. It doesn't get the opportunity to become tedious work. Dance is uplifting....and fun...and exhilarating!

And hysterical to watch. (that is, if it's me doing the dancing!! snort!)

So get out there and dance, friends!

Forget, for just a moment, the bad stuff that's happening in your life...and dance in the rain. You are an incredible person! You have a Creator that loves you...and you are here for a reason! Don't think for one second that you are unimportant....or unnecessary....or unwanted.

"Why am I smiling? And why do I sing? Why does September seem sunny as spring? Why do I get up each morning and start? Happy and head up with joy in my heart? Why is each new task a trifle to do? Because I am living a life full of YOU!!"

Gene Kelly had the right idea, my friends...when he sang those words. Focus on Someone close. And dance in the rain! You'll feel better, I promise!

Now I better get off of the computer. Where's that umbrella of mine?!

Same...but different

2008-03-17T11:38:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I was looking at my aunt's high school yearbooks. I love yearbooks! I'll look at anyone's yearbook. Ever since I was little I've enjoyed them. They tell such a story!

I love looking at all the hairstyles and fashions that are caught in between those two covers. I love the eyeglasses...the hats or the lack of hats...how stern or how laid back the faculty members look...the team mascots...and I like something else about yearbooks. They are all the same....but different.

I mean, for the most part...generally speaking...no matter if you went to a public school or a private school...a large urban school or a lil' itty bitty country school...no matter if it's 1902 or 2002...the yearbook's contain pretty much the same thing. Students, faculty, organizations, teams. Even the feel of the paper...the index in the back...the ads...each yearbook is the same...but different.

As I looked at the pictures of my aunt, she changed each year. The other students changed each year. Oh, there's always that one person who somehow manages to not look like they've changed on the outside...but you know they've changed on the inside. I had to laugh...because I was looking at a teacher who had also gone to my church as I was growing up...and I wondered how old she actually was...because in a ten year time period (at least!)...she looked EXACTLY the same! Same hairstyle...same sort of clothes...weird.

I had a boss once who had had the same hairstyle the two years I had worked with her. I got my hair cut one day and she commented on how nice it looked and then said yearningly, "I wish I had enough courage to cut my hair."

I remember thinking, 'what a dumb thing! Cut your hair! It'll grow back! What's the big deal?'

I've thought about that comment of hers for a long time. Why someone would be reluctant to get their hair cut...why someone intelligent...someone who logically understood the idea that yes, hair does have the capability (for the most part) of growing back after it's cut...understands that people do it all the time...why someone would make a comment indicating a desire to change their hairstyle and still not do it?

It's really bugged me.

I thought about it as I looked at Mrs. Hill. Mrs. Hill, who looked exactly the same for (at least) ten years. Same hair...same clothes. What was that all about?

In a world that changes in a New York minute...we resist change. Most of us, anyways. We like being comfortable. We like control. We like stability.

On one hand.

On the other, though...there's this desire in us TO change. To live in a 'better' house...to be in 'better' shape....to have a 'better' job. We want change. We want makeovers...just look at television and see how much is being madeover nowadays.

You know something? I think...in their extremes...that both resistance to change and makeovers...are all about control.

"I can't control this [thing, person, condition] in my life right now...so I'll control this! I'll either change this (get a haircut) or I won't change! (keep the same hairstyle for 10 years)

Control. Either way, we're in control. Or at least we believe we are.

So we resist change...or encourage change. Either way, what happens?

Change happens.

With or without your support. It just does.

Just like those yearbooks show kids growing up...and teams winning and losing playoffs...things do not stay the same. They get different.

And we can only control so much.

We're all the same...but different.

We all change.

Everyone except One. He never changes. And thankfully, He's always in control.

Think about that for a moment.

Me? I'm gonna go look at my yearbooks...

Infectious Disease

2008-03-14T06:41:00.000-07:00

So...yesterday I'm typing away on the computer...and my daughter is standing right behind me.

And she sneezes.

Now...I'm not talking about some polite, cute, little 'achoo!' that you say "Bless you!" to pleasantly...

no...this was different. Much different. It was a full-blown (literally!), wet (dare I say DRENCHING?), nasty ol' sneeze.

AHHHHH CHOOOOO!

So...I'm sitting there...dripping...(really!) and I say, "Thanks for the shower! Could I get a towel, please?"

The keyboard is wet...my shoulder is wet...it's all wet here. Yuck.

"I hope what you've got isn't catching," I say. "Cover your mouth next time! Sheesh!"

And she's laughing...and I'm laughing...kinda...but it got me to thinking...

Is what I've got catching?

We just finished performing Fresh Roasted Comedy Cafe', and one of the guys in it has this smile that is just...infectious. Seriously. When he grins...you grin. You cannot help yourself. And I tried, every time I saw him smile...to NOT smile.

It wasn't possible, my friends. I couldn't do it. I couldn't NOT smile.

Our attitudes are infectious. People will imitate us. They can't help themselves. So...the question becomes:

Are you sneezing all over folks...or is your smile making them smile?

Okay...that's not REALLY the question. But what I want to think about today is how our attitude affects those around us...as well as ourselves!

One thing I've noticed about myself is that if I surround myself with things that make me smile...then I smile more!

So...look around. Do you have things around you that make you smile? Look at them a couple of times today...you might be surprised by how good you feel.

My friends, you make me smile. Spread that infection around, okay?!

Got any spare change?

2008-03-12T05:56:00.000-07:00

My son is an ad marketing guy's dream come true.

Ever since he was able to open his eyes and say, "T.V."...my son has been in love with ads. Each thing that comes on in a 30 second commercial becomes our home's 'gotta have this!' item.

It's more than a little annoying.

His latest thing is the Jakk's Eye Clops Bionic Eye. Have you seen this? It is a magnifier that hooks up to your t.v., allowing you to check things out in 200x magnification...(whatever THAT means!) and change how you look at things. Hm....changes how you look at things. You know what?

I could use some change! Or could I?? The past couple of days I've been in a bit of a funk...and while I must admit that part of it could be the time change...and the change in temperatures here...and the change in my schedule...one thing that really needs to change is my perspective.

I'm really good at noticing the negative. What's not clean...what's not new...what's not finished...what's not paid for....what's not working...what's not right. Focusing 200x on what is wrong...and feeling pretty crummy about it. "I don't want to do this....I don't want to deal with this person right now....I don't want to be in this place!"

I'm not much fun to be around.

That's not who I want to be! I want to have a positive outlook! I want to get rid of that negativity before it strangles me and chokes the good right out of me!

So....where to begin?

The Serenity Prayer (for those of you who are not familiar with it) says this: GOD....grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change...courage to change the things I can...and wisdom to know the difference.

Okay...got that.

It goes on to say this: Living one day at a time...enjoying one moment at a time...accepting hardships as the pathway to peace. Taking...as He did...this sinful world as it is...not as I would have it.

Hm....

Taking things as they are...not as I would have them. Do I do that? Do you do that? What happens when we do that?

Acceptance....and peace.

And understand...this part comes AFTER the first part. Knowing what's in your control and what's not in your control...scrutinizing things...checking them out...but also to live one day at a time...enjoy one moment at a time...so your perspective isn't skewed...so you're not magnifying only the negative things and never seeing the positives.

My friends...we can't change people. We can't change the fact that the band concerts we have to attend as parents will be overcrowded...and hot...and seem to take forever! We can't trade in our mother in laws...or make our sons eat their vegetable soup.

(those are all hypothetical situations...really!) (snort!)

You know what? I was so annoyed about having to go to the concert...that I didn't hear the 7th grade band music!! I was so focused on myself...and the negative...that it was difficult to see the beauty...to hear the melody that was playing all around me...(even if it was by 7th graders!).

However...when we can change our perspective and appreciate the moment for what it is...when we take a breath and say, "Okay. This is NOT where I want to be...but this is where I am...so help me to appreciate it for what it's worth!"...we might find it's not so bad.

And actually hear the 8th grade chorus.

Acceptance and peace. I'd like those magnified 200x. How 'bout you?

So long as you don't make a habit out of it!!

2008-03-11T11:02:00.000-07:00

George Costanza: Jerry, just remember, it's not a lie if you believe it.

I just watched an episode of Monk. At one point Monk tells his therapist, "Actors make their living telling lies." And the therapist says, "Maybe actors are really telling the truth." And Monk shoots him this look...it's priceless.

Was it my four college learning years of theatre that taught me the fine art of lying?

Nope.

And you know what?

It's funny...my face tells the truth...even when my mouth does not. Just watch me sometime! It's like I can't really help myself. I'll tell you...for four years of college...intensive theatrical training...I got no poker face whatsoever...sigh.

"Do you like this shirt, Carrie?"

(Frowny face from me...I take a deep breath...run my tongue across my teeth...tilt my head)

"It's great."

(nnoo...no it is NOT great! It's an awful color! It's the wrong style for her body type! WHY DID YOU LIE TO HER?!)

"That's what she wanted me to say."

And the quote? From Seinfeld? George is a PRO at lying. Why? Because he BELIEVES THE LIE!

And that's where you can get into trouble, my friends...when you believe the lie. And good liars always find some way to believe the lie...

I think for us girls it's tough. We're taught at a very early age to be 'nice' to people...and that means learning tact. Except that sometimes...that idea of tact is coupled with 'white lies'...like the one I mentioned above...where no one is really "hurt" by the comment of ,'That shirt's great!"

The problem comes with practice. Once you begin telling lies...you can have a hard time stopping. They're so convenient! They can stop conflict from happening...they can keep you from getting grounded by your parents...they can make other people feel good about their blouse purchases...

I mean, where's the harm in that??

Just recently, I had a situation happen to me where I was asked a question. It was not a hard question to answer...but I knew my response wasn't the answer that the person wanted to hear. And I found myself fighting against that so much...that I said something really mundane...and left the room...without actually answering the question.

Although, I think that I DID actually answer the question...by not answering it...and I'm not convinced that was right either...but at least I didn't LIE. And that habit (because YES...it becomes a habit!) is one I've been working on for some time now...

Sometimes, my friends...hard things need to be said. Thinking that avoiding a difficult conversation by lying isn't really helpful. Not at all...

And don't even get me started on believing the lies that others tell you...that's a subject for another time.

Stop lying. Tell the truth. Mark Twain said that it's better to tell the truth...that way you don't have to remember anything later...

That's some good advice right there. And I'm not lying...