A Sandwich from the Past

Jo asked if Tobias actually likes bologna. (See previous post.) No, he doesn't, but that hasn't always been the case...


One day, when Tobias was in first or second grade, he came home and announced that he had eaten a delicious sandwich at school that day.

He didn't normally rave about the PBJs that I packed him, so I was a little confused.

"What do you mean?" I queried.

"I ate this sandwich that had soft, pink meat in it," he replied with a dreamy, contented look in his eyes.

I felt my stomach lurch. What was he talking about? Where had he gotten this sandwich and what exactly was it that was now digesting in his belly?

Carefully, I steadied my voice and began to ask my many questions.

After a while of listening to his little-kid answers, I ascertained that in the lunch area there was a table that the yard duties had designated for unwanted lunch items. Considering the picky appetites of so many children, you can only imagine how high the stack of rejected edibles must have been on any given day. Other kids were free to peruse the goods and take what they wanted.

Who knows how long Tobias had been helping himself to this Cornucopia of the Abandoned. (He probably got the same thrill that I get as I pick over the 50% off section at Fresh and Easy. Yippee!)

Anyway, deducing that the "soft, pink meat" was probably bologna (ugh...full body shiver), I told him what bologna was made of. Additionally, I forbade him from taking anything from the Table of Plenty that was not factory sealed, explaining that the maker of that sandwich may have been picking their nose while they did so (although, that might not make a bologna sandwich any worse than it already is--sorry, Oscar Meyer).

Bologna has been a source of amusement in our lives ever since and on Tobias' birthday, the sandwich that Delaney gave him fulfilled its role as a birthday prank and was then eaten...

...by Bruiser.

Happy Birthday, Tobias!

We love our boy so much and are incredibly proud of him.

'Twas 14 years ago tonight that we met this little guy face to face:




It wasn't long before he was playing with a whole barrel full of monkeys:




He sure has changed a lot, but he still loves to ham it up for the camera:




Delaney thought he would appreciate getting a special gift from her for his birthday:




The upside-down sign reads: "Your very own bologna sandwich!" (And yes, she bought the nasty stuff with her own money and made the sandwich with her own two hands.)


Don't worry, he got a few other things, too. :)

Yellow-Belliedness

I spent countless nights as a child staying as still as possible under my bed covers so as to not attract attention from any monsters who had yet to notice me lying there. Of course, I NEVER let any of my tasty-looking appendages hang over the side of my bed. (I assumed that feet were especially enticing to what ever ominous creature lived under there.)

Fear has long been my unwelcome companion. I could write a huge, long post on my various fears and what I've learned from them over the years, but I don't have that much time today, so I'll share what I've learned through just one of them...

Chicken on Board:

When I was 19, I was in a horrible car accident. The rear tire of the car in which I was traveling at 75 miles an hour blew out and the driver slammed on the brakes. (Tip: DON'T do that. When you have a blow out, just ease off the gas and let the car come to a stop on it's own if possible.) This resulted in us swerving into a freeway center divider, flipping over and spinning on the hood. Miraculously, neither myself nor my two companions were injured. (Volvos are safe, even the twenty-five year old, laughably ugly ones.)

Riding in a car (and other vehicles) was not the same for me after that day. I had lost my ability to be truly at ease when traveling. Hmmm, I thought...cars can crash.

A few years later, on New Year's Eve, I had four year old Tobias and 1 year old Delaney with me when I slid across ice on a mountain road and careened into a muddy snow bank. The auto repair shop had our car for several weeks and I had only had it back for about ten days when it got smashed into by a lady on Valentine's Day. (Another tip: Blinkers lie! Don't believe them.)

I was very scared of driving after these two accidents in just a six week period. I am embarrassed to admit that I didn't sign Tobias up for swimming lessons that summer because I didn't want to drive back and forth to the pool. I was almost at the point where I would only drive to the market and back. (I knew we had to eat!)

Soon, I realized that I had a long life ahead of me and I didn't want it to be limited to the walking distance around my home. Thus, I began to pray, "God, please take this fear away. I don't want to be controlled by it any longer." For months I prayed multiple variations of that prayer (perhaps subconsciously thinking that if I stumbled across just the right verbiage, God would be triggered into action) and found myself increasingly frustrated because I saw no progress.

Why wasn't God answering? It was an honorable desire and I was humble in my requests.

Not From, but Through...

One day, as I climbed into my car, I was praying the latest version of my plea when it struck me that perhaps God wasn't going to deliver me from fear, but rather through fear. My prayer took on a sudden evolution into something like this:

"Father, You know that I am fearful as I back this car out of the driveway and am surrounded by objects with which I will potentially collide. I don't even want to go where I'm headed, but I know I can't live my life that way, so I will go. Please help me to be courageous in spite of my fear and help me to think about what is true and rational, not on what is possible but unlikely."

Since then, I've had multiple opportunities to apply this basic lesson elsewhere. When I am afraid but forging ahead, I know that I am relying on God.

Nine years on, I have grown more at ease sitting in cars, whether behind the wheel or simply as a passenger (although I must confess that each time we pull safely into our garage I celebrate inwardly, thinking, "We made it! No one is injured and our insurance rates won't be going up!").