Learning and Celebrating

Jeff and I recently celebrated our 17th wedding anniversary.


As you can see, we were very young when we wed. Jeff proposed to me when I was 17 and I turned 19 just three weeks prior to the ceremony.

There are a lot of things that I would do differently about the wedding itself if I was getting married today. I would certainly pluck my eyebrows more thoroughly. I would do my hair and makeup differently. I'd make sure we had more than just a few crystal dishes of deluxe nuts and cake to feed our guests. (We actually ran out of cake. How embarrassing is that?)

However, the one most important aspect of the ceremony (to whom I was wed) I would not alter.

The thing that gave me confidence in marrying a 21 year old Jeff was his level of integrity. As I came to know him more and more, I had many opportunities to witness Jeff doing what he knew to be right, even if it was inconvenient or "unfun". I saw him consistently applying God's principles to his life regardless of his own desires. That assured me that he would be a good life partner.

Of course, being married isn't always easy. You have to learn how to live with another person who is likely as self-centered and frail as you are yourself.

Probably the most vital thing I've learned so far in marriage is that I'm not always right. (Yes, it came as a shock to me, as well.) As arrogant as it sounds, I honestly thought for the first few years of our post-nuptial existence that it was my job to reveal my rightness to Jeff so that he would agree and therefore join Team Right. Well, after a while, I realized that Jeff and I are very different, but that doesn't mean that one of us is right and one is wrong. We can have varying opinions and ways of doing things and that is actually healthy.

Probably the most valuable thing Jeff has learned so far is how to speak to me. For the first few years, he would often speak sarcastically. I felt belittled by his attempts at humor. He was just trying to be amusing and thought that he was succeeding, but after a while, he saw that he was the only one amused and that I was either irritated or hurt by his words. He has vastly improved on this front...thank God.

Although I wouldn't recommend getting married so young to most people, it has worked out very well for us.

We've learned how to not bounce checks together. We've learned how to communicate effectively. We've learned how to respect what the other values even if we don't quite get it. We've created and are raising two other human beings jointly. We've built a vast and influential financial empire together. (Okay, maybe not, but we did pay our car off a little early. :))

Anyway, we are learning and celebrating life together.

In the past month, we have been blessed to celebrate the marriages of other. In March, we watched as Teresa and Armin committed themselves to one another. (I stupidly forgot to take my camera to the ceremony.)

This Summer, we will witness Jennifer and Daniel promise to forsake all others and cleave unto one another:


Recently, we attended one of the most enjoyable weddings to which we've ever been. In the middle of the ceremony, the bride and groom led us all in a worship song, "Not to Us". It was beautiful and exemplified their focus on Christ.


(The groom was to the left, playing a cajon, but I couldn't get him in the shot.)

Both of these delightful people were raised in homes where they learned that if they noticed a need, they ought to try to fill it. Mandy and Christian serve God and others every chance they get.


(They look so young. It's hard to believe they're older than I was when I entered into matrimony.)

Let's lift our plastic glasses of Martinelli's to marriage...a peculiar yet marvelous institution.

*Tink*

Attention Mike M and Tamara J:

I'm not much of a cell phone user.

I mean, I have one, but it's not on very often. If you want to get a hold of me, dialing my cell number isn't likely to help you achieve your goal. You can leave a message, but I probably won't notice it until next Thursday or the following Sunday.

Additionally, my phone is an example of embarrassingly archaic technology. It's not a flip phone. It has no internet capabilities, nor a snazzy text keyboard. It doesn't even have a camera. *gasp*

It is utilitarian.

And that is all.

See?


(I heard your embarrassed, ill-concealed titter just now, but I forgive you.)

A number of times, Tobias has loudly decried it as a sham of coolness. (Oh, well. For decades, I've been anti-cool. I'm the gal who used to cut the Guess labels off of her stylish overalls back in high school, remember?)

Anyway, when I do notice that I have a message, I will listen to it.

Yesterday I had two messages. (I don't think that's ever happened before.)

One was for Mike M. (Full last name withheld to protect his identity.)

Mike, if you are reading this, you owe a lot of people a lot of money and they want it NOW. They are threatening legal action. Apparently, you had my cell phone number before I did...

...and didn't pay your phone bill.

Would you mind calling all these businesses you bilked and informing them about your change of phone number?

(Yeah...didn't think so.)

The second message was for Tamara J. Amazingly, her troubles are even worse than those of Mike M. Whoever was threatening legal action against her in the past is now making good on their threats.

Tamara, apparently you are now a defendant in a court case. (They gave the case number, but I declined to write it down.) The man said you had 48 hours to contact him on your own accord or a warrant would be issued for your arrest. He seemed to know where you work. Too bad he doesn't know your real phone number...

Is It Enough?

The other night I was feeling uneasy about how I'm living my life.

I've been here for 36 years now and although I have a good family life and a right relationship with God (which are the two most important things to me), I haven't really accomplished much else.

I haven't distinguished myself.

I'm just me.

Now this is not some feeble attempt on my part to get the comment section full of nice encouraging sentiments from you, my friends. I'm just being honest that I sometimes wonder if I'm doing everything that I should be doing. Am I being a good steward of all that God has granted me?

For example, am I, as a mom, investing in my kids as I should? Am I helping them develop their God given talents to honor Him? Am I teaching them the value of hard work? (I think I'm doing pretty poorly on that one.) Am I giving them the tools they need to lead a successful life? What risks should I let them take and what things should I protect them from?

Tobias will legally be an adult in less than three years and Delaney isn't far behind. I have so little time left being their full-time mom. Soon they will be responsible for themselves. Have I done what I should to prepare them for that?

Anyway, Jeff and I prayed about this a few nights ago, asking God for wisdom and guidance. In the morning, I sat down for my morning time of prayer and study and was greatly encouraged by the following verses:

"I live my life in this earthly body by trusting in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me. I am not one of those who treats the grace of God as meaningless." Galatians 2:20b-21a

This reassured me because I know that while I live this earthly life I can and should trust in Christ because He loves me so perfectly and powerfully. Also, I know that I do greatly value His grace.

While I'm trusting in Him and valuing His grace then I can't help but live the way I ought to. No, my life won't be perfect and yes, I will sin and botch situations, but if I am trusting in Him and valuing His grace then that's pretty much all that He wants from me.

He'll bring things together in His time and through His ways.

Thank God I don't have to be my own god. :)

Behind the Door

So I opened my freezer's door to retrieve a bag of flash frozen chicken tenders and THIS is what greeted me on the other side:


Can you believe I'm posting this?

Here's a close up for the full effect:

Yes, I claim full responsibility for the chaos chillin' in my deep freeze. I'm strangely okay with it.

Feeling better about the state of your own freezer's contents?

That's what I'm here for...

...making other people feel better about themselves since 1974.

(A job well done, no?)

Who?

Well, you'll probably recognize her:


She's my favorite Who of all. (I think the braces are a nice touch.)

No, this is not Delaney's 'new look'. She's in another musical at the local theater.


She plays many parts: a Who, a fish, a military cadet and a circus lion. There's one scene where the comedic 'General' barks right in her ear and she keeps a completely straight face the entire time. She does not get that facial control from me. I'm really proud of her 'cause I don't know how she does it.

The lion costume is her least favorite as you can see by the expression on her face:

Here she is with her 'trainer' performing in the Circus McGherkis:


Here she is with the Cat himself (who, btw, is played by a very talented and amusing teenager):


Delaney is having a great time with everything but the makeup. She declared to me that she hates the stuff and assured me that she has no interest in wearing it off stage anytime soon.

You may be wondering where Tobias is in all of this since he loves the stage as much as his sister. Well, this time around he has taken a behind the scenes job as a spotlight operator. Here he is in the tech booth, wielding his tool:


Believe it or not, I crammed myself into that tiny space and filled in for him twice this weekend while he was at high school winter camp. As lame as it sounds, I was kind of nervous that I'd do a crummy job, but it went perfectly fine. Hooray for new skills! (I'm not sure when that one will come back into play in my life.)

Taxes, Taxes, Taxes

I filled out a check to the government this morning.

I giggled as I wrote in the memo line, "Spend it wisely".

Juvenile?

Perhaps, but it's a lot nicer than some of the other things I could have penned.

A Source of Shame No More

I've shared with you before the hideousness of my thumbnails:


No, the above is not the result of a mental disorder that inspires thumbnail mutilation, nor is it a prop that I picked up at the Witches' Corner at a Halloween shop. It is my actual thumbnail in it's natural state. (You only get to see Lefty 'cause Righty was busy helping to take the picture.)

Well, Lefty (and Righty) had an extreme makeover today, but they're the only two of my phalanges who were spoiled with such treatment. You see, about a year ago I had a manicure, my first and only one in my entire 35 years.

Did I love it? No. In fact, I never wanted to do it again.

I don't know if the guy (yes, guy) who did it was super rough or what, but my fingertips were throbbing later that night when I laid in bed. Also, my nails were so thick that I couldn't use them in the ways I was used to. Worst of all was when I'd try to scratch an itch. It was torture!

Therefore, I said never again.

However, along with the nasty ridges on my nails, I also have cracks that tear down into the nail bed. They snag on things and rip further. No matter how short I keep them, they continue to split. I've tried every product I could find that promised to strengthen and protect nails. Also, I swallow calcium pills religiously, but all to no avail.

So today, weary of my annoying and painful thumbs, I walked into a salon (not the one where the fingertip abuser works) and set myself down in a chair at the station of a lovely Asian woman. I explained that I only wanted acrylics on my thumbs and why. I kept my deformities out of sight in my lap until necessary.

When I finally did produce the offensive members, she looked at them for a long time.

"Oh, they are... they are..."

I could tell that she was running through her mental English Rolodex, looking for a euphemism for "repulsive".

She finally settled on "They are weird." which sort of surprised me, but I just laughed. I can take it. (I mean look at them.)

I guess I was expecting her to not be astonished at their appearance since she looks at different people's nails all day long. I asked her, "Have you ever seen any other nails like mine?"

"Ah...one other time, but...it because of...uh...injury."

Great. I guess this means I'm special.

Anyway, here's Lefty after her date with my new friend Kim:


And yes, Righty looks just as good.

Okay, So Maybe Not...

I had a plan.

You see, living in a world where people are now air brushing their vacation photos (no, I'm NOT making this up!), I am a firm believer in being transparent and genuine.

Thus, I planned on posting a couple of photos of the things that are presently marring my face to affirm my commitment to authenticity.

(There seems to be something inherently unjust about crow's feet and pimples on a face at the same time. If one is old enough to have acquired wrinkles after years of squinting in the sun, they shouldn't have to simultaneously suffer the shame of red pustules dotting their chin. Alas...)

So, I turned the camera on, got it into macro setting to capture every distinctive detail, aimed it at my face and shot several times.

Well...

...after downloading them onto my computer, I've realized that some things shouldn't be photographed, especially in macro setting.

Yeah. You're only getting one photo, but it's for your own good.



Believe me, the close-up pictures of the zits on my chin are better left unviewed. Really.

Just Like Steve's

A couple of years ago, Jeff's friend, Steve, bought a large plasma screen TV. Shortly after the purchase, Jeff went to Steve's house and played split-screen Call of Duty on it. To most of you, this means nothing, but a few of you have just begun to salivate. Well, that's what Jeff started to do as well and he came home that night with a dream.

"I want to get a 50 inch HDTV," he said.

"A 50 inch screen?" I marveled. "That's ginormous! It'd look ridiculous in our living room. Why not 40 inches?"

"Steve's got a 50 inch in a room smaller than ours and it's awesome! It's perfect for playing split-screen."

"People will think we stole a billboard," I said.

"HDTV..." responded Jeff.

"It'll look like an idol propped up on the altar of our entertainment center," I reasoned, piously.

"50 inch screen..." murmured Jeff, growing glassy-eyed.

"We'll have to leave offerings before it on the coffee table or it might become angry with us," I pleaded.

"Just like Steve's..." He was now nearly catatonic.

This tug-of-war between want and unwant went on for nearly two years, though, I must say, it was quite civilized. In almost 17 years of marriage, we've learned the mutual benefits of "respectful disagreement". Additionally, reality was on my side since we didn't have the funds to purchase such a luxury item.

Well, two weeks ago, as I was online, I saw something that allowed the starry-eyed-giggly-me to overpower the practical-logical-me, which is quite unusual since the practical-logical-me usually keeps the starry-eyed-giggly-me hog-tied in the closet.

This magical internet sighting was an ad for a 50 inch plasma screen HDTV at an amazingly low price. The cost, in addition to the facts that it was a trustworthy brand, had over 40 excellent reviews from other customers and the company was offering free shipping, was enough to make the starry-eyed-me begin to giggle.

I knew that Jeff had saved up a big chunk of his personal "fun" money and if I threw in a bit of my own, he could just about fulfill his two year old dream. Thus, I shared the ad with him.

You've already guessed what's next, I'm sure.


Now that's a happy man. :)

Here it is in all of its room-dominating glory:


Yes, it is a happy ending, but there's actually a little twist to the story which the practical-logical-me is determined to find amusing, you see...

...a couple of days ago, Steve himself came over to see our new technicolor behemoth.

"Wow!" he said. "That thing's HUGE!"

"It's the same size as yours," Jeff said.

"No, it's not," said Steve. As his next words exited his mouth and reached my ears, time seemed to slooooooow dooooown:

"Your TV dwarfs mine. My screen's only 40 inches."

Huh???










Oh well...

I love you, Jeffery! Enjoy. :)

Saguaros and a Seventieth

When in Arizona...

...pose with a cactus (just like all the other tourists).

My dad (pictured below with his wife, Donna) recently reached the milestone age of 70:

(Not the best picture, I know, since his eyes are closed. Unfortunately, it's the only one I took of him this weekend. :( )

Most people consider the feat of reaching 70 quite commendable. My dad, however, doesn't. He is a former physics professor and a mathematician, and says that he was more proud of turning 64 because it is a "base 2" number and he's looking forward to turning 71 because it's a prime number. (Nerds find him highly amusing, myself included.)

Anyway, to celebrate him and his seven decades on earth, my sister, Suzanne, planned a weekend birthday extravaganza in which my family partook. It involved a lot of driving, a lot of food and a lot of cacti.

The first thing we did was almost run out of gas in the middle of the Sonoran Desert. That was great fun. There's no thrill quite like the one you feel when your "low fuel" light comes on and you haven't seen a man made structure for the past 70 miles. I'm still running on the adrenaline that my glands pumped out for that occurrence. A dentally challenged gas attendant never looked so beautiful to anyone, I'm sure, as Alvin looked to us as we happily forked over some cash for fuel.

Shortly afterward, we met up with my sister, her husband, Jai, and their twin boys, Jonathan and David:


Per my dad's request, we all went on a tour at the Frank Lloyd Wright museum of architecture. It wasn't as dull as you might think. It was actually quite interesting. Even the kids seemed to enjoy it...sort of.

Afterward, we lunched at a restaurant called, The Feed Bag. Yes, it was as charming as it sounds. :)

Next, we drove the Apache Trail up to the Roosevelt Dam. Arizona has an unusual beauty that is not quite captured in the following pictures:





We stopped in Tortilla Flats for some prickly pear ice cream. When we see a couple of suspended toilet seats, our first instinct is to tell our kids to go stick their faces in them for a photo shoot:


(We're classy like that.)

That night, Suzanne convinced Tobias to try on her new pink Snuggie. Thinking I'd horrify him at the sight of me with my camera in hand, I snuck up and aimed it at him. However, I was the surprised one, though I shouldn't have been. In true Tobias-form, he relished the moment and cheerfully posed his goofily bedecked body:


The next morning, we caught up over breakfast with our friends Smedly, Janet and their lovely quiver-full. An hour wasn't quite long enough, but it was better than nothing.


In Phoenix there are some amazing botanical gardens. Some of those crazy looking plants are quite fun to examine up close...but not too close:


Delaney and the twins found this cactus to be rather huggable:


This King Snake was somewhat cuddly as well:


We lunched on grilled veggies and hummus, though we weren't sure what about half of the veggies actually were. It's been 24 hours and none of us has sickened or dropped dead yet, so apparently they were edible:


(See what I mean?)

Jeff and the kids were determined to climb some rock formations like the one below:


I started feeling vertiginous about half way up. Uncontrollable leaning to the left or right while ascending one of these things is hardly advisable, so I watched (with clenched teeth) while the rest of my precious family reached the clouds. (I was very glad when that was over.)

Before we knew it, it was time to head home from our delightful desert getaway. Happy birthday, Dad. Welcome to the septuagenarian club!

In the car on the way home, Delaney learned how to tie her shoes...


...courtesy of the Colonel himself:


(Just kidding.)

Yet Another...

"Did you really think that was chicken you just ate?"

A Few Things Mildly Amusing

So yesterday, I emerged from our bedroom wearing the new dress I got at Ross for $6.99 (yep, six ninety nine!) and strutted up to Jeff who was sitting at the computer.

"What do you think?" I asked, twirling around while determinedly sucking in my gut.

He looked at me, tilted his head to the side and said, "Hmm...it's...it's...well, I don't think I don't like it."

Excuse me?

You don't think you don't like it?

Praise, indeed. Thanks, Babe.

Anonymous Bowel Troubles

If the above title didn't scare you away, keep reading...

Recently, I was asking this guy I knew as a teen about his job as a human directional. (That's "sign-twirler" for you politically incorrect types.) I remember driving past him once years ago while he was on his corner with his billboard sized arrow.


He said that he only lasted about two weeks at that job because, among other things, there was no toilet available. One day, he had to go numero dos super badly. After returning from taking care of business in the bushes of some unsuspecting homeowner, he found that his sign had been stolen!

Can you imagine explaining that one to your boss?

"Sorry Sir, I came back from pooping under someone's hedge and it was gone!"

Clairvoyant Cookies


Even as a young child, I could see right through the lame cheerfulness of fortune cookies. However, I confess that whenever I'm still savoring the flavor of broccoli beef and a little black tray is placed in front of me, I will retrieve one of the plastic wrapped cookies and crack it open. It's part of the whole Chinese food experience, right?

Our friend Dave recently made this exercise more fun by telling us to add "in the bathroom" to the end of the cookie's message.

My all time favorite result of this was when Delaney read, "You will find gold by the bushel full...in the bathroom."

Wow, that sounds painful.

I'm quite confident that since then she has not found so much as a flake of the shiny stuff, though I hope she hasn't been looking too hard. Ick.

What I'd like to see are more realistic sayings typed out on those little strips of paper. How about:

"You're not fooling anyone."

or

"You would have gotten that promotion if your boss hadn't caught you on Ebay at work."

or

"You've got a piece of bok choy stuck in your teeth."

Now that might do some good in the world.

(Anybody think up a good one? Please share.)

An Ode to Benadryl

This is one of my poems with which I am most pleased. The rhyming pattern was really difficult to work with, so it took a lot of effort. I wrote it a couple of years ago and I'm not sure why I'm posting it tonight of all nights.

Let me explain the strange subject matter: I often suffer from insomnia, so when I discovered that Benadryl can help with that, my nights were revolutionized.

Benadryl (aka diphenhydramine) is a very beautiful thing, thus I chose to celebrate it in the following manner:

An Ode to Benadryl
or
The Pursuit of a Minor Death of Consciousness



A serotonin dearth will drive
Me stumbling off to raid a hive
Of plastic placed above the sink.
Its swarm is silent, still and pink.

The dissolution of the dose
Prescribed could leave me comatose.
I’ll halve the ration prudently
To clinch my round trip ticketry.

The subway token vial yawns
Above my palm. A new night dawns
As to my hand, the beauties fall.
I pinch just one, but cherish all.

Beloved diphenhydramine!
You tiny, legal, potent bean!
Lethean drops solidified,
Safe opiates, freshly descried.

A slip of matter, barely sensed
Between my thumb and finger, tensed.
Though dryly dropped, it plumbs my throat.
I board the bus, embark the boat.

The pill is popped, the plea is prayed.
I’m biding now to be conveyed
To where one third of life is meant
To be in unawareness spent.

In faith, I sprawl out, prone again
As drowsing syrup dribbles in.
The thickened ooze coats my inside.
Thus slowly, starts the carpet ride.

With faculties in dull retreat
My smile is stupid and replete.
I hum a selfish lullaby.
The monkeys chatter as we fly.

An undulating, gentle sway
Grows stronger as my musings fray.
The thousand summoned servants lift
My litter high…I cross the rift.

A little practical advice if you're thinking this news about diphenhydramine is an answer to your sleep deprived prayers: The full dose (two pills) will likely knock you out for way longer than you want, so just take one pill or even half of one. Also, drink plenty of water with it since it's an antihistamine. (You don't want to wake up from your nice long sleep with a urinary tract infection, now do you?) Oh, one last thing, if you're one of those "I use TylenolPM to help me sleep" types, switch over to my stuff 'cause your stuff is nothing more than Tylenol with diphenhydramine added to it and a bottle of generic Benadryl is way cheaper than a measly 20 pack of TylenolPM.

This isn't a fail-safe method to get to sleep. When I was in Romania for nine days, I took the whole dose every night and I was still too keyed up to conk out. Still, for the most part, diphenhydramine is my very good friend.

Confession

Was anyone inspired by my pep talk post of yesterday?

Yeah, me neither.

It's Time...

Okay, everybody, it's time to throw out all of those leftover Christmas saboteurs...um, I mean goodies.

Go on...

Fling that fudge!



Toss that toffee!



Crumble those cookies!




Crush that candy!



(Uh oh, that sounds like a bunch of ice cream toppings, doesn't it?)

And no, eating it all today so that it's not around tomorrow does NOT count as getting rid of it. Trust me, it will still be there, just around your waist instead of on the kitchen counter.

Martha Stewart Would Shudder

Some people are very particular about the decorations on their Christmas tree.

Not me...in fact, I learned today that my standards are below those of my children. (Well, in some cases.) As we broke open the box o' baubles and such, Tobias suggested we nominate certain ornaments to be tossed in the trash instead of onto the tree.

My one request was that when an item was nominated, it needed to be done so carefully and kindly since many of the ornaments were hand-crafted by others who were presently in the room. (Yes, yes, I know it's impossible to kindly declare that someone's handiwork should be treated as refuse, but I was striving for civility, okay?)

One of the first decorations to go was this one, described by Tobias as looking like a confused clown who is using his drum as a receptacle for bodily waste instead of as a percussion instrument:

(Yes, in case you're wondering, Tobias does have eyeballs.)

There were some ornaments that were quite aesthetically challenged, but they somehow wormed their way into our hearts over the years and we couldn't bear to face a Christmas without them, regardless of their freakishness or hideousness.

Take this shrinky dink "Santa's elf" for example:


Tobias made a whole bunch of these little gems when he was six and handed them out as gifts to all of our relatives. Miraculously, everyone managed to squeeze out a "thank you" when they unwrapped them. There was nary a scream nor a snort of laughter, though I can't recall ever seeing one hang on a tree except for ours in the ensuing years. Hmm...I wonder why...maybe because they look as if they're possessed and about to go postal in Santa's workshop?


(See what I mean?)

(Emergency update!!! Vindication of the grandparents: My father-in-law read this post and let me know that Tobias's "demonized elf" has been hung with care on their tree every year since it's presentation. Sorry if you felt maligned, my dear in-laws. :( )

This year, just as a few decorations were voted out, some things were voted in. Notice I said "things", not "ornaments". These are some of the objects which are presently decking our evergreen boughs to the delight of our truly odd children:



(The last one's a skeleton's forearm.)

Whatever.

It all looks positively festive if you take a blurry photo from ten feet away:


Happy Jesus' birthday everyone!

Don't Be Jealous...

...of my very spiritual kids.

Picture this: It's early morning. My two precious children and I are sitting at the kitchen table. As they are nourishing their growing bodies with bowls of Honey Bunches of Oats, I am nourishing their tender souls with a verse from the Bible. (I've learned to keep it about three verses or fewer in order to stave off that glassy-eyed look which lets me know they're no longer "checked in". Hey, it's better short and sweet than long and ignored, right?)

On this particular morning, I read, "Whoever guards his mouth and tongue, keeps his soul from troubles." (Prov. 21:23)

Putting down the Bible, I ask, "Can you think of a time when you said something and shortly afterward wished you had just kept your mouth shut?"

"Oh, yeah," Delaney says, her eyes rolling for emphasis.

So pleased that my daughter could quickly identify the truth in the biblical passage and immediately see it's application in her own life, I smile and ask, "When was that, Delaney?"

What, dear readers, do you think her inspiring, uplifting response was?

Well, read on...

"Every time I ask Dad something about the Bible! I ask one little question and he goes on and on and on..."

Hmmm...not exactly what I was going for...

The Shunned Ground Beef and Other Questionable Good Deeds

I went to the bank yesterday. Just as I climbed out of my car, I noticed a homeless guy next to the bank's door.

He wasn't standing, looking as if he was about to walk away. He was sitting there, leaning up against a pillar looking about as comfortable as a person can when their back is pressed up against bumpy stucco.

Hoping I looked unstartled and natural, I walked toward the grocery store in the same lot although I originally had no plans of going there.

I've encountered this particular man before. He asked for money then. I bought him an ice cream instead.

Sitting outside of a bank is a pretty good idea if money is what you want. You know that people either have money when they're going in or they're going to when they come out.

Jeff and I decided long ago that we wouldn't hand out money to people who ask for it since we don't want to fund anyone's drug or drink addiction. However, we usually offer food to them since we hate the idea of a person's basic needs not being met.

We've bought a lot of hamburgers over the years.

Years ago, when I was in college, Jeff and I emerged from the grocery store to be accosted by a man who asked us for cash. He launched into a story about how his kids were hungry and he needed just enough money to buy some ground beef for their dinner.

It just so happened that the market was having a sale on ground beef that day and I had bought three individual packets of it. Reaching into one of my bags, I pulled one out and handed it to the man.

The look on his face was priceless. It was clear that he wouldn't be using the hungry kids/ground beef story again. I practically had to force it on him.

Amused, Jeff said, "You'd better get home and cook that up before it goes bad on you." (Hey, we don't normally laugh at those who are less fortunate than us, but when we catch them in their own lie, it's kind of hard not to.)

A few months ago, I was coming out of a grocery store that I don't usually shop at and I was approached by a young man who actually asked for food instead of money. I told him to meet me over at Jack in the Box on the corner and I'd get him something. He ran off to "tell his brother" and I continued toward my car with my bags of groceries.

Once I got to my car, another guy shuffled up to me and asked for some money. He was a lot older and scraggly looking. I told him that I'd buy him a burger and to meet me over at Jack in the Box. Then I quickly got into my car, wondering how many more people were eyeing me from around the parking lot.

(Here's where I must tell you that although I am genuinely glad to feed a hungry person, I'm quite intimidated by panhandlers. They're usually men and even though they may have missed a few meals and slept poorly the night before, they could probably still floor me with one blow. I really hate it when I take out my wallet to pay for their meal and they can see a couple of twenties peeking out. For all I know, they're just scoping me out so that they can grab my bag later. Therefore, I do try to be wise about 'helping' them and not compromise my own safety.)

So...as I drove my car over to JITB, I decided to just go through the drive-through and hand them their bags of food out of my car window. Once I ordered the food, I was told to pull around to the parking lot and that it'd be brought out to me when it was ready. From where I parked, I could see Old-Timer inside the restaurant, waiting for me to show up. He waited several minutes and then erupted out the front door, loudly complaining, '"That #$@&* said she was gonna buy me a burger!"

Just as he finished spewing that forth, he looked up and saw me, sitting there with my window down. His face fell.

I'd like to say that my response was, "It's on it's way, Sir" complete with a sweet smile, but...

...I'm not a liar.

What I actually said was something like, "I'm the #$@&* who said she'd buy you a burger and if you stick around, you just might get it."

(Yes, well, not one of my finer moments...)

I instantly regretted it.

Poor guy. He looked so embarrassed by his actions and my reaction.

I understand that he was grossly disappointed. He had been told he was getting some lunch that day and then after waiting several fruitless minutes, he assumed he'd been lied to and that his stomach would remain empty.

When the food finally came, he humbly thanked me several times. In the meantime, the original food-wanter showed up with his brother and burgers were had by all as I drove away cringing and repenting.

By far, the weirdest panhandling experience I had was at the dentist's office. Sitting in the waiting room while one of my kids was getting worked on, I noticed a girl, about 12, come in and sit down. She didn't check in at the desk and she wasn't with an adult, all of which struck me as odd. Well, it was about to get very strange, indeed.

After a couple of moments, she made her way over to the seat next to me and sat down. Looking at me, she began to whisper.

"What?" I asked.

She whispered again.

"If you want me to hear you, you'll have to speak up."

A third time she began to speak to me, still very quietly. "Will you give me some money so that I can go to Radio Shack and buy something?"

Who was this girl, why was she at the dentist office and where were her parents???

Totally confused, I said something like, "No, if you were hungry, I'd get you something to eat, but I'm not going to give you money."

Understanding dawned on her face. "Well...I am hungry."

Right...

Not wanting to make a liar out of myself, I walked with her over to Jack in the Box (yep, the very same one) and bought her (you guessed it!) a hamburger. She said she wanted a soda, too, but my motherly sensibilities kicked in and I told her she could have milk or OJ if she was thirsty.

Looking back, I see how poorly I handled that whole situation. I taught a neglected girl that if she goes begging for money at a dentist office, she'll end up getting a free meal. Who knows how many creeps would take advantage of her odd, needy behavior. Yuck. (I found out later that she lived in an apartment right next to the dental office.)

All of this takes me back to the guy out in front of the bank yesterday. He was gone once I returned from my impromptu shopping trip.

When I told Jeff about what had happened, he said, "Why didn't you just buy him a sandwich at the market and then when you went into the bank and he asked for money, you could have pulled it out and said, 'Here you go!'?"

Hmmm...somehow that didn't occur to me. My brain seems to flip over and play dead whenever I'm getting hit up for money.

All of this is to say what exactly?

I'm not sure. I'm just thinking about needy people and what my response to them should be. I want to be helpful, but I also don't want to give them opportunity to harm me or themselves. I want to be kind but sometimes I end up fouling my normally hygenic mouth. I want to care for an odd preteen girl and afterward I fear that I've taught her to be too trusting of strangers.

It all makes me so thankful for God's grace and it's sufficiency. (2 Corinthians 12:9)

If I was trying to make my way to heaven through my own goodness, I might end up at Jack in the Box.