The Sacrifices of Spring

When we bought this house (six years ago this month), I was thrilled with the huge flower box out front. It runs nearly the whole length of the walkway to the front door. I dreamily envisioned it burgeoning with ruffly Rununculus...



...Icelandic Poppies...



...little purple Pansies...



...and regal looking Digitalis...



...welcoming all visitors to our home.

I couldn't understand why the former owners had planted Heavenly Bamboo and Society Garlic in such prime floral real estate.



Not only were they an odd pair aesthetically, but the former was so tall that it partially blocked the windows and the latter has an unpleasant odor which shouldn't be the first aromatic impression upon entering a home.

Hmm, oh well, I thought, transplanting the "ousted" to more appropriate places. I was just happy to be the planter's new mommy.

Well, it wasn't long before I realized why the planter hadn't been better tended to. Apparently, Heavenly Bamboo and Society Garlic were the only things the former owners had found would grow there.

Nearly everything I planted there died...and quickly. Lovely plant after lovely plant was purchased and caringly tended to in its new home only to wither and die. I dumped bags and bags of mulch into the planter, taking care to mix it thoroughly. I made sure to thoroughly water any of the new "recruits". It didn't help.

Watching the sunlight situation, I saw that during the summer, the flower box was completely in the shade of a tree until about 11:00 am at which point all of the sun's radiant glory fell upon it like the wrath of God (I think being up against the house intensified it even more) until about 1:30 pm at which point the sun was blocked by the house, plunging the box into total shade again.

I'm not sure if the plants were fried or confused, but very few could handle living in the atmosphere into which I was thrusting them. My floral fantasies became sadly subdued. No longer did I long for a flower box worthy of a Better Homes and Garden cover. I just wanted something green instead of dry, brown and disintegrating.

Year after year, I have continued to experiment, suppressing the feelings of guilt I have over throwing perfectly healthy sacrifices into this apparent volcano. It's not my intention that they die...

This year is no different. Jeff and I went to Home Depot last weekend, looking for this year's agricultural guinea pigs.

He pointed out some flowers that he liked and I showed him that their tags said "partial sun".

"We need 'total sun' ," I stated, explaining the situation.

"What about 'hellfire'?" he asked.

I assured him that that would be perfect, but alas, we found none. Apparently, satan's gardeners don't frequent the Depot.

(We also looked at weed'n'feed products to help our grass. One promised to kill all weeds. We didn't buy that one, fearing it would take out our entire lawn.)

Finally, we settled on these:




Yes, they are very beautiful, but for how long? And will I be able to sleep knowing that I have the blood (uh...sap?) of these innocents on my hands?

It Wasn't to Their Liking

While reading through the gospels, I am often struck with how people interacted with Jesus. These people were talking to, eating with, being touched by God Himself and yet many remained unchanged and unsatisfied or even became hostile toward Him.

This morning, Delaney and I read Luke 8 in which Jesus healed the demon possessed tomb dweller. Once kept under guard and bound with chains (verse 29), the man eventually broke free and ran off to live alone in the cold, dark tombs.

Jesus healed him. What was the response of the people?

"The whole multitude of the surrounding region of the Gadarenes asked Him to depart from them, for they were seized with great fear." (verse 37a)

They didn't rejoice with the healed man. They didn't seek to know better this powerful One. They feared God's blessing and asked Him to depart from them.

God was working and it wasn't to their liking.

One of the saddest stories in Matthew (in my opinion) is found in 12:9-14. A man with a withered hand was healed by Jesus in the synagogue. A new life had begun for this man. His handicap was gone.

So what's the sad part? Verse 14: "Then the Pharisees went out and plotted against Him how they might destroy Him."

They didn't rejoice over the healing, nor did they desire to know God better. Jesus' obvious spiritual and practical authority threatened the Pharisees' place in society. In fact, they sought to destroy Him.

Again, God was working and it wasn't to their liking.

So what about the good guys? John the Baptist was Jesus' partner in achieving God's will (Luke 7:27). He was dedicated and zealous for that cause and yet...Jesus didn't seem to be doing what John expected and wanted.

"And John, calling two of his disciples to him, sent them to Jesus, saying, 'Are You the Coming One or do we look for another?'" Luke 7:19

In other words, John was asking, "What's up, Jesus? I know there's something special about you, but you aren't doing what I would expect of the Messiah, so tell me...are you Him or not?"

God was working, but it wasn't to John's liking.

Christ graciously pointed John to what he did know: scripture. "Go and tell John the things you have seen and heard: that the blind see, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, the poor have the gospel preached to them." (Luke 7:22b) These were all foretold proofs of the Messiah found in the Old Testament (which John knew well and valued highly).

Verse 23 is especially powerful: "And blessed is he who is not offended because of Me." I think Jesus was saying, "Yes, John, I know I'm not fulfilling your messianic expectations and hopes, but you will be blessed as you lay those aside and embrace Me--the actual Messiah."

Shall I share with you yet more evidence of my need for a savior? You know my commitment to keeping it real (just read my last post...ewwww): I see traces of all three of these examples in myself.

Do I always rejoice with people who experience a healing of sorts? If I was somehow comfortable with their affliction, then perhaps not.

If God's work in another's life "threatens" my social standing, then do I want to see that work continue? (Gulp...)

Do I at all times seek to embrace the actual Messiah even if He is not fulfilling my "messianic dreams"?

Somehow, we think the people in the gospels were so "lucky" because they had Jesus right in front of them. They heard His voice, perhaps touched His cloak, and yet for many of those people, it was just a brief encounter, soon just a memory. We have the privilege of reading the compilation of all these encounters and the Spirit-inspired insight of the apostles who knew Him well.

God was at work in those lives long ago just as He is at work in many lives today. Is it to our liking?

Blessed is he who is not offended because of Me...

More Things Vile and Uncouth

First off--Here, here, Micky! Your comment on my last post was right on. I am incredibly thankful for Jeff. I almost deleted that post because I saw that my gratitude didn't come across at all. His sweetness in saving up his "fun money" to spend on me and the kids is a testament to how wonderful of a husband and dad he is. He himself regrets the fondue excursion for the very reasons I shared with you all. Had he been pleased with it, it wouldn't have even occurred to me to type up a post snickering about it.

Now...on to yesterday: I went to see my doctor because my nasal spray prescription needed to be renewed. After the blood pressure test, etc., he noticed my foot's "sixth toe".

"What is that?" he asked

I glanced at his name tag to check for the letters M.D. and replied, "It's a wart."

"That's coming off," he announced and quickly exited the room. As the door closed behind him, I heard him holler out to one of the nurses, "Where's the gun?"

Uhh...gun? Maybe the wart's not...so...bad.

He soon returned with something that looked like a mini blow torch and proceeded to blast my foot with all the power of the arctic that was somehow trapped inside. Although the physical sensation was far less than pleasant, I mentioned to him that I also had some tiny warts on my hand.

As he frigidly banished those little guys, he schooled me on warts and how they spread. Perhaps he was a bit too "into" this impromptu lecture 'cause I think he overdid it on my hand. I can't quite bring myself to post the photos I took last night (once in cyberspace always in cyberspace), but trust me, I think he would have warned me if he expected it to turn into that freakish mass.

Immediately after the treatment, it just looked a little splotchy, but over the next 6 hours, it turned bright red and swelled up like a balloon. I could literally feel my skin stretching as the area filled with liquid-nastiness. I feared it would burst while I was making dinner, splattering the chicken and veggies, rendering them inedible. (Sorry, I guess I should have typed up a disclaimer at the top of this page.)

"Are you really going to youth group tonight with your hand like that?" Jeff asked, dubiously.

"Sure," I said. "Maybe it'll help some awkward teen feel better about some embarrassing aspect of their own body."

Perhaps I'll never know if an adolescent now feels empowered to face the world after catching sight of my afflicted appendage, but...it was a good conversation piece.

He Meant Well

A couple of hours after writing the following post, I reread it and was struck by how snotty it sounded. I was going to delete it, but then I noticed that Brenda had left a comment. Hmm, I guess I'll just leave it and hope that you all will give me the benefit of the doubt in regards to my snottiness level. I really did appreciate that Jeff wanted to do something nice for us AND I asked him to preview and "okay" the post before I posted it. So here goes:

My dear, sweet, thoughtful husband wanted to surprise me and the kids recently. He had heard rave reviews about a restaurant and saved up his "allowance" to take us there. (Jeff and I both get a bit of money from his bimonthly paychecks to spend on whatever we want.)

Knowing that it was a pricey place and that he is married to a woman who still wears this watch

(it works, okay?), Jeff turned to me in the car as we pulled into the parking lot and asked, "Can you please just enjoy yourself and not think about how much this meal is costing me?"

I felt my upper lip involuntarily twitch as I promised that I would.

To avoid the certain lawsuits that would follow because of the vastness of this blog's readership (It has four followers. (Three of whom have only made one comment ever! (I hope they follow Jesus more closely than they follow As We Wend Our Way.))), I will wisely rename the restaurant as The Money Pot (ahem) instead of using its actual moniker.

Through the heavy front doors we walked and approached the smartly dressed host behind the reservation desk. None of us was dressed very nicely so I felt compelled to ask if we were breaking their dress code. (I have a vivid childhood memory of being expelled from a restaurant in New York because we were not suitably attired.) He smiled and assured me that our vestments were perfectly acceptable. (Apparently, money is money.)

We were quickly seated and the whole unusual eating process was explained to us. You see, this was a fondue restaurant and we (at that point) were fondue-newbies.

Wanting the whole experience, Jeff ordered appetizers, a main course and dessert. I did my best to keep my promise to simply enjoy myself, though I thought I'd need sutures to repair my bitten tongue while looking at the prices on the menu.

I won't bore you with a play by play of our three hour meal (it takes a while when you are cooking your own food, one little piece at a time).

After the bill was paid, I watched a little piece of Jeff's soul die when I mentioned, "You could have bought three video games instead of that one meal."

The good news is: we weren't that impressed and therefore will never be tempted to go back. The bad news is: Jeff was not able to just enjoy himself and not think about how much the meal was costing him.

To sum things up: Buy yourself a crockpot, google some fondue recipes and enjoy a much cheaper experience at home several times over. Sure, the food was fresh and good, but no meal is worth the cost of two weeks of groceries.

From Carless to Clueless

Two weeks ago, somebody in our family got into a fender bender, but that's enough about that. (He's rather embarrassed.) So now one of our cars is being repaired and Jeff is driving "my" car to work. That leaves me...carless.

My 97 year old grandma needed me to take her to a doctor's appointment today.


(Isn't she lovely?)

Now, if this was a dermatology or an optometry appointment, I'd just ask her to reschedule. However, last week she went to the ER with chest pain, so there was no way I was going to say, "Hey Grammy, why don't we do that whole doctor thing another time?"

What is a loving granddaughter to do? Why, rent a car of course!

The drive home from the rental place was rather amusing. Every car we've had for the past 16 years has had a stick shift and the rental is an automatic. My left foot kept pressing into the floorboard, rooting around for the clutch pedal. My right hand twitched continuously toward the center of the car and (to my chagrin) threw the car into park instead of the intended first gear at a four way stop.

I imagine I'd like driving an automatic if I didn't feel like such an imbecile doing so.

Thoughts on Trials

Why did God allow this? is an age-old question that has many seemingly unsatisfactory answers for its questioners. Well, here I offer you yet another:

When a Christian becomes a parent, she gains a whole new perspective on her relationship with God. For the past 14 years, I've understood what it is to love someone more than myself, even when that someone sometimes behaves like an ungrateful brat. (I'm thankful that those times are few and far between.) As I am to my children, God is to me. Likewise, as my children are to me, I am to God.

The comparisons between me and a sometimes ungrateful brat could fill a very long post, but I want to focus on just one. It all comes down to this: What is important to me is important to God, but He knows the grander scheme.

Take shots for example. When I took my kids to get inoculated, I knew they were horrified when the overly-cheerful nurse brandished her long sharp needle. My heart hurt with them as the reality sunk in that that needle was going to pierce their tender flesh. And yet, I didn't stop it from happening. (I hope I don't lose you non-immunizers on this one.) As a mom, I knew that their terror was genuine, yet I could see the bigger picture. Their moment of horror would result in protection from Mumps, Measles and Rubella.

Another example: when my kids were babies, I would sometimes let them cry in their cribs for awhile. The hope was (and the result was) that they would learn how to fall asleep on their own and if a few tears needed to fall, then I was willing to allow that. (Now, I don't want to digress into a debate on parenting techniques. If you are the type to pick up your baby at a mere whimper, then I won't admonish you for that. I just knew that that wasn't going to work for us.)

Was my decision based on cruelty and heartlessness? No. I loved my babies more than anyone and their sadness struck me deeply, but I truly believed that their momentary sadness and loneliness would result in the abilities to be comfortable in aloneness and to fall asleep independantly. I didn't sit outside the nursery door cursing them nor mocking them because of their cries. I was genuinely sad with them and yet I focused on the bigger picture, allowing that to affect my interference or non-interference.

I propose that when we adults face trials which set us atremble, it is essentially no different from when little children face inoculations or a lonely half hour in the crib. God is there, allowing it, but He believes and understands our authentic terror or sadness.

I feel a bit lame typing this since the trials I've faced in my life have been of a rather mild nature, but remember, I entitled this post "Thoughts on Trials", not "Facts on All Trials Everywhere".

For me there is great comfort supposing that my tribulations are perhaps not as dire in reality as they may seem to be in my own limited mind.

John 16:33
2 Corinthians 4:17

A Date With Dad

Every now and then, Jeff takes Delaney out on a date. Our hope is that she will not only have fun with her dad, but that she will see how dates can be and should be.

Last Saturday, Jeff and Delaney went ice-skating--


Yes, they "brown-bagged" it on their way to the rink, but I'm sure my husband wants you all to know that he's not a cheap date. (I'm the cheap-date-planner.)

Note how the gentleman opens the lady's car door for her--


Hopefully details such as these will stick in Delaney's mind so that if she ever finds herself on a date on which she is being treated less than excellently, she will quickly lose interest in the scoundrel, thinking, "I'd rather be out with my dad!"

Lessons for Living

A couple of summers ago, I determined that both our kids would learn some cooking skills by preparing dinner about once a week during their vacation from school (under my watchful eye, of course). I asked them what they wanted to make and helped them think through which side dishes would complement the main entrees. I wouldn't go so far as to say that they enjoyed it, but they learned some things.

Somehow, last summer I didn't have them do it once. I don't know how we went through 8 whole weeks without them cooking at least one meal apiece, so this Spring Break I was determined to get back into the swing of things.

Last Wednesday, Tobias elected to make Tortellini Soup and homemade rolls.

There was some vegetable chopping--


He did some roll baking. (It's easy with a bread machine that kneads and raises the dough.)--


He did some raw-pork-meatball-molding-soup-dropping--


And...voila! He ended up with a pretty tasty meal to serve to us all--


Good job, Sonny!

I assured him that his culinary skills will help get him a spot on the "Very Eligible Bachelor" list.

Delaney's Doppelganger

Most of the time, she is sweet, animal-loving, angelic Delaney--


But occasionally, (specifically on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights at 7:30 and Sunday afternoons at 3:30) she morphs into Edna, the Evil Butleress--


Ha! Opening night was last night and Delaney did fabulously. She is having the time of her life kidnapping Duchess and the kittens, dumping them in the French countryside and then being put into place by a hoard of cats, dogs, geese and even a mouse.

It's such a wonderful blessing that she ended up with this large role in Aristocats. At first she had an incredibly minor part because we signed her up late, but then a few people dropped out and she was thrust into a part with lots of lines and a few solo songs. She's handling it so well.

(I love her hair that way although it takes about fifteen minutes to braid and then pin on top of her head.)

Merry Christmas in March

Jeff and I like to give our kids experiences for Christmas instead of just more stuff. So, last December, we promised that we would soon be taking them to an indoor rock climbing gym for an afternoon of scaling fake cliff faces.(Hey, they were excited about it!) We finally made good on our promise last weekend.


They got a lesson in belaying so that they could help each other in their ventures--


Delaney is harnessed and ready to reach new heights--

That's her at the very top--


Jeff, is that a smile of victorious joy or a grimace of horrible pain...or a combination of both?


Tobias rappels down after a successful ascent--


Here he is "bouldering" which doesn't require ropes or a belaying partner--


What's that? You're wondering where are all of the pictures of me climbing, tugging on ropes, sweating and grinning proudly because I achieved my lofty goals?

You're probably not surprised to read that I did none of those things. But...I had my German flashcards to keep me company--

Yes, yes, I'm well aware that I'm a total bore. (I've never claimed to be otherwise.)

Frohe Weihnachten! (Merry Christmas!)

"Evil" Never Looked So Cute

Can you believe it? After auditioning for the upcoming theater production of AristoCats, this adorable, sweet, gentle, little girl was chosen to play...











...the evil butler!

What is especially ironic is that her nefarious deeds are committed against cats. (Delaney LOVES animals.)

As incongruous as it seems to be, she does an excellent job singing the villain's dastardly ditties, cackling maniacally and creeping around the stage. I think I'll proudly chuckle through all nine presentations.

BTW, no one called about Duncan, so I think it's safe to assume that we have a new little, wriggley member of our family. :)

The Day of Truth

Tonight, the "found" ad we put in the local paper will be published for all to read. I wouldn't feel right about not making some kind of an effort to find Duncan's former owners. (Is it wrong of me to hope they don't see the ad?)

The info we included was quite general so whoever calls will have to be able to answer certain questions correctly in order for us to accept that they did indeed lose Duncan. (Please, no one play a cruel joke on me by calling and pretending to be the former owners. It wouldn't be funny.)

I'm not one of those crazy dog fanatics who shares ice creams and baths with their canine "friends", but I must say that this little guy has stolen my heart. He's such a good little dog!

He neither whines nor barks too much. He has already learned to sit while waiting for his food to be served to him. He loves to fall asleep in your lap while you stroke his silky ears. He makes funny squeaky noises at various times. He isn't overly possessive of toys or food. The only thing that keeps him from being absolutely perfect is that he likes to chew on your hands and/or clothing, but he is a puppy after all!

Just look at him:


He's even cute from behind:

Will any one call and claim Duncan as their own? Will Aimee's heart be broken? Will Aimee and Jeff get reimbursed for Duncan's $104 veterinarian bill? Find out next time on As We Wend Our Way...

Bath Time

Tobias took a few pics while Duncan had his first bath.




Me and my girl:

She had a bit of a fever today, so she stayed home from school and we got to spend the day together.

I Thought You Went Out For Pizza

Yeah, that's what I said when Jeff came home with this:

Apparently, this dog can sniff out a sucker pretty well.

Jeff said that he and Tobias got out of the car at the pizza place and this little guy bounded right up to them, wanting to play. The people at the pizza place said that he'd been running around for a few hours. He had no collar, no tag and an obvious bite mark on his rear end.

Cutting to the chase...we have a new dog (unless someone answers the ad we're putting in the paper).

We took "Duncan" to the vet today. The vet checked him for a micro chip (none found) and then put him on antibiotics for the infected wound and gave him his first round of vaccinations.

Apparently, Duncan is about 8 weeks old and is a Labrador Mix. Isn't he adorable!


(In case you're wondering, that's Bruiser's big drippy tongue in the top left corner of the photo.)

Bruiser seems rather indifferent to him. I think they'll be fine.

Render Unto Caesar What Is Caesar's...

...even if it seems like it's actually yours.

Anybody else doing taxes today? I'm scrambling to get ours done before the government gives our refund over to any bank CEO or floundering car company.

I've been at it now for about four hours and the end is in sight. Let's just hope I did it right.

I was actually having a pretty good time with it until I noticed that a miscalculation of mine had nearly tripled our actual refund. Ah, well...at least we don't owe anything...

My favorite line of the day is:

If line 10 is equal to or more than line 11, enter the amount from line 7 on line 13 and go to line 14.

Am I the only one giggling? (Perhaps I'm just illogically giddy from all the mathematics and stress.)

An Exhausting and Disheartening Pursuit

Whilst studying a book I've read many times before, a verse hit me in a fresh way. It's quite beautiful really.

"But with me it is a very small thing that I should be judged by you or by a human court. In fact, I do not even judge myself. For I know of nothing against myself, yet I am not justified by this; but He who judges me is the Lord." 1 Corinthians 4:3 & 4

This brought a thoughtful smile to my face.

You see, a few years ago, I nearly drove myself mad by judging myself.

Being a naturally introspective person, I was continually scrutinizing my thoughts and actions to the extreme. Aimee, what are your primary motivations? Did you really mean that? Are your intentions truly pure?

An Example:

Years ago I was asked to join a worship team which would require me to sing in front of a few hundred people on Sunday mornings. I prayed about it (good). I thought about the practicalities of it (good). I discussed it with Jeff to get his take on how my involvement would affect our family (good). I examined my attitudes and thoughts about being in such an upfront position (good). Then, I began to mull over all the possible, likely and unlikely, effects that could result from my service on the team (um...still sort of good). Soon, I was unduly focusing (this is where I went downhill) on every little inkling of bad that was already in me or could spring up in me through this venture (primarily pride). Because I saw slight potential for sin, I declined joining the team.

It would have been one thing if I had a history of getting ridiculously puffed up from similar situations, but I'd been on multiple worship teams before without any truly problematic results.

In my attempts to keep bad from happening, I neglected to do good.

My motivations were good. I craved purity, sincerity...holiness. So where was the problem?

Examination vs. Dissection

Scripture does tell us to examine ourselves to determine if we have a genuine faith in Christ (2 Corinthians 13:28) and when we partake of Communion (1 Corinthians 11:28).

However, what I was doing was dissecting myself.

Examination explores something. Dissection dismantles the same thing, rendering it useless.

Doomed for Failure

Any time my mind is preoccupied with thoughts of myself, I'm going to be confronted with possible scenarios of sin and weakness. Whenever I mentally dissect my motivations for my various actions, I'm going to find at least a little yuckiness here and there. After all, I'm a sinner!

Examining myself realistically is sometimes necessary, yet if immoderate self-judgment is leaving me paralyzed, then it's not achieving that which proper reflection ought.

The Actual Judge

"...He who judges me is the Lord." 1 Corinthians 4:4b

and

"Vindicate me, O Lord, for I have walked in my (imperfect and at times waning) integrity. I have also trusted (sometimes) in the Lord; I shall not slip (if You hold me up). Examine me, O Lord, and prove me: Try my (unsteady) mind and my (sinful) heart." Psalm 26:1 & 2 (parenthetics mine)

Judging myself is ultimately exhausting and disheartening. Trusting that God will judge me with His gracious omniscience is strengthening and freeing.

(I think) Corrie Ten Boom said (something kind of like), "Look around and feel oppressed, look within and feel depressed, look to God and be at rest."

Eventually, I got over my paralysis and when asked again to join the same worship team, I agreed, praying that God would help me to not fall into any "traps"...and believe me, all sorts of things happen to keep me humble.

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!").

Oops!

Twice this week when I was in a public place, I was mortified to look down and see...







Oh, horrors! (My socks were even inside out!)

As if I wanted to call even more attention to my "size nine wide" life companions.

It seems that I have a tendency to forget to check the stylishness of my feet before venturing out of the confines of my own fashion-free home.

Am I to be blamed that I love flops but want my feet to be warm at the same time?

Next time I'll make sure I have some curlers in my hair to complete the look.

A Welcome Rarity

A couple of nights ago, we got two inches of snow. I know that amount is laughable to some of you, but it's unusual here.


The next morning, I let the kids be a bit late to school so they could play in it. Some of you nicer parents wouldn't have made them go to school at all, but 'nice' I never claimed to be. :)


Isn't it beautiful?

The Truest Peace

I remember reading a book while I was in junior high (I think it was Shogun) and one small portion spoke very clearly to me.

A Japanese character explained to a visitor to the island nation that he believed there were three parts to each person: the outer man who is known by everyone, the inner man who is known by a few and the innermost man of all who is known only by the man himself.

This struck me as so true...and so sad.

As a young teenager, I felt that my truest self was virtually unknown and on some levels I wanted to stay that way because of what I knew about that self. I felt so alone.

Soon after that, I learned that God (Who is not bound by the same restrictions that we are) did know me. He knew me with all of my hopes, insecurities, joys and questions and what relief to learn that He loved me in spite of my faults and weaknesses.

To know that I am known and loved by my Creator has given me a vital sense of peace. I easily recall what it was to live without that peace and I never want to go back to that state of mind.

Peace with God is the truest peace of all.

"Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ..." Romans 5:1

The Boy in the Striped Pajamas...

...is the best movie I've seen in a couple of years.



Seriously. It was amazing.

It beautifully shows the Holocaust through the eyes of a child.

The characterization of everyone was easily believable. (Usually my biggest gripe with movies and books is that the characters do or say things that I just can't buy into.)

The cinematography is fabulous. There is no sex and the violence is only implied. The acting is spot on. The plot is riveting. (And I'm quite picky about all these things!) I'm telling you, it's a movie that you must see.

You might be a bit uncomfortable during the first few minutes because it focuses on the happy family of a Nazi Officer, but as the realities of what the Nazis were actually doing become evident, the consequences follow.

It is very sad, but more in a thought provoking way than a fall-apart-in-your-theater-seat way. (I don't enjoy morphing into a sloppy, weeping public display.)

We decided that Tobias is going to see it as soon as it comes out on video, but Delaney's tender little heart is not yet ready to struggle with the realities of the Holocaust.

See it.

'Tis the Season

We've never done the whole Santa thing in our house.

Don't get me wrong...we don't have a personal vendetta against the guy.

We don't wonder at the spiritual maturity of those who hand their kids over to him at the mall for a photo op. We don't find spiritual significance in the fact that if you switch a few letters around in his name then you get "Satan". We do get a guilt-free kick out of silly Christmas movies (such as "Elf") which include the jolly old Northerner. So, as you can see, we're not on a campaign for Santa obliteration.

When the kids were little, we warned them not to ruin the concept of Santa for their friends who do have him as a part of their holiday celebration.

Could you Santa fans please ask your kids to return the favor?

This is the second year that Delaney has been harassed for not believing in him. I've been a witness...

Last year, she had a pal (we'll call her Amber) over to our house after Christmas. The girls were sitting at the kitchen table when Amber (with the utmost patience that a fourth grader could muster) asked:

"Delaney, do you believe in Santa now that Christmas is over?"

D: "Uh...no."

A: "Delaney, I got presents from him. The tags said so. He even gave my mom and dad some things."

D: silence

A: "My parents said he's real and they wouldn't lie."

D: "Uh, I don't really want to talk about it."

A: (The following statement was delivered with piety of the most religious caliber possible.) "Delaney, if you just try then you can believe in him. (sigh) I think you need to think about that."

Well, that was last year. I thought that surely by 5th grade, the faith-filled few would have dwindled down to nil. Oh, no...Santa's evangelists are at it again, trying to browbeat the disbelieving into the kingdom of the North Pole.

Yesterday, Delaney brought home a note from school that had passed between her and another girl.

Other Girl: "If you don't believe in Santa, then why do you draw pictures of him and his reindeer?"

D: "Because it's fun."

OG: "How could you Delaney? How could you not believe in Santa?"

I realize some people consider the idea of Santa as part of the whole magic of Christmas and that's fine, but personally, I think that peace on earth has a bit more sparkle.

Those Kids are at it Again...

Yes, Thing One and Thing Two are participating in yet another musical at the local theater. (I'm afraid it has become an addiction of theirs that we'll have to monitor carefully.)


They are truly enjoying themselves. Jeff and I are quite proud of them as they play their parts very well.

Tobias plays a Punch and Judy puppeteer:


And he gets to dance with beautiful girls:

Delaney plays a street urchin (although she looks pretty well-off for a destitute cast-off to me.) :


Additionally, she plays a unicorn in the toy parade scene (or did a unicorn swallow her whole?) :


There will be shows on Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday of next week. Then they'll be getting back to bed at a normal hour (and so will I. :))

Results for the Great Turkey Roasting Experiment of 2008

I'm very pleased to report that the twenty three pound gobbler that I recently prepared turned out very nicely. I doubt, however, that I will again purchase such a large bird. I felt quite unlady-like squatting and straddling a corner of the open door to hoist that thing in and out of the oven when it came time to baste it. (No, there are no pictures.) Thanks to all of you who gave advice and encouragement.

Below, you see our yearly family picture taken at Thanksgiving by Jeff's dad. Below that, you see last year's photo. Aren't the changes in the kids amazing?

2008

2007



By the way, this is the last day of our email service with our old internet server, so I might not be able to alter this blog after midnight tonight...only time will tell. (See my last post.)

Is This Goodbye???

Hmmm...

Yesterday, we had fiber optics installed and in the process changed internet providers and our email address. Just as I feared, the delicate balance of our online existence was rocked and I lost access to adding to and altering this blog. It appeared as if I would have to kiss it goodbye and start anew elsewhere.

I went as far as to create a new blog over at www.aswewendourway.blogspot.com, so if I continue to have troubles with this one (www.amongthemany.blogspot.com) then that is where I'll be.

Last night, something compelled me to try one more time to sign in at this blog and it actually worked (even though I used the same user name and password as I had the all other times).

So...if after a while it appears that this blog has cyber spiderwebs and dust all over it, then try over at the aforementioned new blog address.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Internetless

Fiber optics are coming to our neighborhood, so I made an appointment to have the box installed. We are also changing internet providers. I planned it that we would have an overlap of coverage of about 5 days so that we wouldn't be without the Net for even a day.

Well, apparently someone at DSL Extreme took it personally that we were canceling with them because they dumped us ten days early! I called yesterday and the guy couldn't give me an explanation as to why that happened (not even a lame one).

So here I sit at the library on a hard wooden chair announcing to you all that if you need to get a hold of us over the next week, it would be best to call us. Also, our old email address is likely to be defunct, so I'll send out the new one when I know what it is.

It's Been an Odd Day

It didn't start out strangely.

The weirdness didn't hit until about 1:00 pm. I was at the grocery store when I came within three feet of...

...the hairiest man I've ever seen.

He was right in front of me in the check out line. (He looked quite normal from the neck up.)

He was shirtless, apparently unaware of the many social blunders that his partial nudity was tempting me to commit:
I wanted to giggle. I wanted to stare. I wanted to take a DNA sample.

Seriously...there was no differentiation between the hair on his back and the hair on his front. It all just flowed together like a strange pelt of poor quality.

The most astonishing thing of all was that there were little bits of dried grass stuck in his back fur like Bruiser has after rolling around on the lawn. No joke!

Delaney was with me. I'm glad since she can therefore lend credence to my tale. It's best to have a partner in moments of incredulity.

When we got into the car, she made me laugh out loud by asking, "I wonder what his armpits look like!"

Okay, so swallow the little bit of dinner you just hurled up and read about the rest of my day...

Last week, some friends blessed us with a couch and chair that they were getting rid of. Due to limited space, we needed to get rid of the futon (which someone else blessed us with years and years ago), so I called the Greensheet and placed an ad in the "Free" section.

Yesterday, we got four phone calls. The second caller drove an hour to get here, strapped the full sized futon onto the roof of his sedan and drove off. (I wondered all night if he made it home.)

Well, apparently, most people got the Greensheet today because as of 8:44 pm we have received 45 phone calls! No, not 4 or 5, but forty-five! Our phone has never rung like this.

Once told that the futon was gone, one lady asked me, "Do you know anybody who is selling a couch?" I assured her that I did not. (Jeff told me later that I should have said, "Yeah...Ikea.")

Another guy called to ask what a futon was. He took the time to tell me, "I looked it up in the dictionary and I couldn't find it." Boy, I bet he's a fun date.

By dinnertime, I had grown weary of interacting with all of these strangers on a human level, so if I didn't recognize the number on my caller ID, I'd try my best to sound like an automated message when answering and say things like, "Hello, if you are calling in regards to the free futon, we are sorry, but it is no longer available. Thank you. Goodbye."

It is now 9:00 and the phone hasn't rung for about 20 minutes. Perhaps the onslaught is at an end.

I did it!!! (We'll see if I regret it.)

I bought a turkey today with plans to actually cook the thing.

Rolls, I can do...

Pies, I can do (if I buy the pre-made crusts)...

Neither mashed potatoes nor stuffing strike fear in my heart...

...but there's something about a solid, mammoth sized, roundish-so-it-can-easily-slip-through-your-arms-and-break-all-the-bones-in-both-of-your-feet-at-once, $23.00 bird (are we sure it's actually a bird and not a medium sized mammal?) that makes tofu seem like a tasty alternative for Thanksgiving's main dish (at lease if I'm cooking).

Today at the grocery store, I was absent-mindedly strolling along when I was blind-sided by an offer I couldn't refuse: "Buy $25.00 worth of groceries and get a turkey for 60% off!"

Hmmm...no wonder a crowd was gathering at the floor to ceiling fridge. When it was finally my turn to open the huge glass door, I wrestled an unyielding, plastic covered carcass into my shopping cart, onto the check stand's conveyor belt, back into my cart, onto the floor of my little sedan (I think it left a dent) and finally into the yawning abyss of our big freezer in the garage, remembering the whole time to lift with my legs, not my back.

There lies the cryogenic beast, awaiting it's journey to the fridge (where it will probably crack through a couple of shelves, oh, and where is all the other food supposed to go for those three days of thawing?) and then into the oven where it may possibly dry out and resemble astronaut food due to my lack of massive-poultry-cooking skills.

No matter what happens, I know there's one member of the family who will be pleased with the end result of The Great Turkey Roasting Experiment of 2008:


Can you sense his excitement?

Hey Y'all!

I just returned from one of the most enjoyable experiences of my life. Although I've been preparing for it for a couple of months now, I didn't mention it here because it was a surprise for a few key people--people who actually read this blog. :)

Some women from my church fellowship and I hopped on a plane and put on a women's retreat for a group of our beloved friends in Kentucky. Although they knew a retreat was going to take place, they didn't know who would be a part of it, so I had to stay silent.

It was so wonderful. I had the honor of leading about 25 women (including a handful of fabulous little girls) in worship. It was beautiful to see all of these women working together, using their gifts and abilities to serve each other and God. Our skills complemented each others' so that everything was accomplished effectively and honorably.

Imagine being with a large group of women for five days and not hearing even the tiniest bit of gossip. That's how wonderful these women are!

God was glorified in the love and concern that everyone showed for each other. His Spirit taught us through the two teachers, Katrina and Joan, helping us to focus on what is truly important in life and to maintain a proper perspective.

Thanks Micky and Brian for hosting me; thank you Charlene for organizing things at your end and carting us around town; thank you Jen and Donna for attending the retreat and hanging out with us; thank you Krista, Sarah and Regina for attending the retreat even though you knew you'd be surrounded by a bunch of women you didn't even know.

On Sunday, we were able to attend a church service at Emmaus Christian Fellowship. I loved seeing that God is working there, blessing the efforts of the people who planted ECF just a year or so ago.

It really was a beautiful time for which I am very thankful.

God is good.

Whether You're Pleased With The Outcome Or Not...

...you have to appreciate the fact that American society has come a long way. Who would have thought even 30 years ago that the American people would elect an African American as president? Our racial bias is at an all-time low and that, my friends, is cool.

Arrrgh...(followed by discontented, indistinguishable muttering)

Because I am tired of wearing the clunky tennis shoes and the starting-to-fall-apart flip flops that I own, I decided to go shoe shopping.

If any of you are squealing delightedly, then you must not understand. You see...I wear a size 9 wide.

You would think that a person of my somewhat miniature stature would be blessed with dainty little feet, but that is not the case.

With fierce resolve, I parked my car in front of a very large warehouse-type shoe store, thinking, "Surely I'll be able to find something in there." (The place was five times the size of my entire house.)

Inside I trod with something close to a spring in my step.

It was wall to wall shoes with cute samples on display. (I've noticed that the display shoes are usually about a size 6. Unfortunately, even the most delightful looking size sixes look considerably less charming once they are blown up into a size nine.)

Under the samples were boxes and boxes of the available shoes. (I don't need to explain this; you've all been inside a shoe store.)

With hope, I began to scan all the boxes looking for that vital "W" next to the size. I soon realized that very few shoe companies even offer "wide" shoes because there were virtually no "W"s anywhere. I wondered why that would be the case as my frustration grew.

Suddenly, it dawned on me...they don't want me to wear their shoes! They don't want their shoes to be associated with a wide-footed gal such as myself! (You know how "Limited" and "Hurley" clothes only go up to about a size 11 or 13 so that only the trimmer sectors of the high school girls will be wearing them? Well, it's just like that, but with feet. I really think I'm on to something with this...)

Finally, after looking on nearly all the aisles for illusive "W"s, I spotted the closest thing I could find which was a "M/W" which I interpreted as being a "wide" that doesn't really want to admit that it's a "wide" so it implies that it's practically a "medium".

I grabbed a couple of "M/W" marked boxes and a pair of peds and settled onto the little chair provided, preparing myself for disappointment...which came rather quickly.

After returning the shoes to their boxes and stuffing the used peds into my purse (I'm assuming that they didn't want them back), I left with my flops on my feet, trying to focus on the fact that I had just saved upwards of $60.

That night, I related my sorrowful tale to my loving family. Jeff offered to simply make me some shoes by outlining my feet on some tractor tire tread. Thanks, Babe.

He then did something that actually was rather helpful. He went on line and googled "Wide Footed Women's Shoes" and bookmarked one site in particular so that I could peruse their selection at my leisure.

I thought that was rather sweet of him until I realized that I am now a woman who has a "Wide Shoe" site bookmarked on her computer!