The Past 48 Hours

Sunday:

Yesterday morning, we attended a church service at Kingsfield. It was great, from the worship and message to the catching up with old friends and marveling over the new sign. (It looks good, guys.)


Afterward, we drove to the beach even though it was rather cold. We explored the tidepools, fed sea anemones, marveled over huge sea stars and somehow stepped in tar. Poor Delaney didn't know what the black stuff on her feet was so she started scratching it off with her fingernails which didn't turn out too well. After the beach, we made a bee line to the nearest hardware store and bought some "Goof Off" which should actually be renamed "A Product that Will Greatly Improve the Quality of Your Day". It worked so great that we didn't even mind the smell.

The best part of the trip to the beach was when the life guard pointed out a pod of dolphins to us that were playing just off shore. They were within thirty feet of the sand, riding the waves in and causing quite an uproar amongst all of the overjoyed humans. That was definitely the coolest thing any of us has ever seen at the beach. See the fin below?


On the way home, we stopped at a Mexican restaurant that one of our friends had raved about. The food was really, really good, but rather expensive. The most annoying part was noticing that not only did Tobias' drink cost four dollars, but they charged for his refill! That's eight dollars of lemonade! Don't you hate it when the server sweetly asks if you want a refill but fails to mention it's going to cost you? I think they should be required by law to inform you before you answer. They could at least wear a cheesy saucer-sized button that says, "Sip With Caution Unless You're Rich " (I realize that I could be proactive and actually ask if they charge for refills, but I feel like such a cheap loser doing so.)

All in all, it was a pretty good day.


Monday:

I end this day asking myself, "What have I done?"

You see, last Friday, I took Delaney to see the community production of "Annie". (Naturally, Tobias had no interest in seeing a musical about a bunch of girls.) As you may have already guessed, Delaney is now longing to be in the next musical that will be put on by this same theatrical group.

Tonight, was audition night for "The Little Mermaid". Now I must tell you that I really don't like TLM. The "heroine", Ariel, sells her voice to an evil witch (about whom her father warned her) so that she can try to get some guy (to whom she has never even spoken) to fall in "love" with her. What kind of role modeling is that? The only way I would actually enjoy the story of TLM is if things didn't work out for her in the end, like if she never got her voice back, or the prince realized that she's not such a good catch because of her poor decision making skills. Now that would be an instructive lesson for little girls everywhere! Dull perhaps, but instructive nonetheless. (Can't they do a production about Mulan who bravely puts her own life on the line in order to save her family and friends? Now there's a role model.)

Anyway, I'll climb off my soapbox and admit that I must not be too morally indignant because tonight I waited for over two hours in a very loud room full of overly dramatic little girls and a hand full of boys so that Delaney could try out to be a part of this production (that will tear at the very fabric of our society).

Because she is preparing to play the (equally worrisome) role of "saloon girl #1" in a school musical production, she had a song ready to use in her audition.

Some miracle occurred while we were there because Tobias suddenly announced that he'd like to try out, too. Last Fall, he saw a couple of his friends in "Fiddler on the Roof" and I guess he thought it looked like fun. When he saw that "sailors" were on the cast list, he realized that not everyone in the play has to wear sequins and sing soprano.

So, we spent the next little while figuring out what song he should sing for his audition. A shocking discovery was made: the only song that our son knows all the words to is Happy Birthday which is comprised of a scant 6 words. What is up with that? (Perhaps I am a negligent mother.)

I hurriedly taught him all the words to Jingle Bells (a song sure to impress) and he went to the car to practice.

The best part of the evening was helping Tobias fill out his application. To the question "What are your talents and hobbies?" he wrote "I once built a tazer out of a disposable camera; I can talk in my sleep; I started shaving at the age of twelve and I have a fabulous sense of humor." The director is either going to love him or think he's a mentally challenged kid who has good spelling and grammatical skills.

After seeing the rehearsal schedule, I'm shaking in my proverbial boots. Six hours a week for the next seven weeks?!?! What about homework, music lessons and sleep? I want my kids to have a fun experience, but I also want to be able to function. If the kids are awarded parts, this may be my last post for a long time.

We'll know by Friday what our futures hold...

Ya Snooze, Ya Lose...

We waited too long. We're supposed to request for vacation time off from Jeff's job a bit earlier, apparently.

We waited because we wanted to find out when the kids' summer camp dates would be so that they could be a part of that, too. Well, now the only weeks available to Jeff for time off are in June...when the kids are still in school.

So, the kids will be missing the last week of school because we are NOT missing vacation.

Every year, I plan a surprise summer vacation for the family. They know we are going somewhere and they know when we're going, but they don't know where, what, who or how. It's fun.

This year, I've got all sorts of plans I'm excited about, but since no one else in this house can know the details, I just have to stifle my giggles and be constantly ready to X out of whatever website I might be looking at that could reveal too much.

Sorry that I can't divulge this year's mysterious destination, but the only person who I'm certain actually reads this blog is Jeff. :)

He's My Favorite Bag of Tricks

As I sit here on the eve of my 15th wedding anniversary, I am struck by the realization that the man I'm married to is truly one of a kind.

I know no one else who spends hours designing, carving and inking to make completely original prints on t-shirts and hoodies. My husband CREATED the following items!


Isn't that amazing?

What other 36 year old excitedly purchases a 15 year old BMX bike from a neighbor, declaring, "I've always wanted one of these!"? He happily and thoughtfully chose new grips and a new seat to replace the old cracked ones. (Good thing it wasn't a '67 Camaro that caught his eye in the neighbor's garage.)


Who else surprises his wife with a gorgeous brand new guitar by stuffing it into her gig bag so she'll find it the next time she goes to practice on her old ugly one?

Not only is he unique, fun and thoughtful...he's also dedicated and devoted.

Dedicated to our family, he rises before 5:00 am several days a week so he can go spend hours and hours at a job he genuinely dislikes.

Devoted to God, he seeks Him and His agenda on a daily basis.

I feel so safe with Jeff, both emotionally, mentally and physically. He listens to me, advises me, and I know he would do everything he could to protect me and the kids even if he knew he'd die in the process.

I love you, Jeff. Here's to another 50+ years of you and me.

Forgive me for looking smug. I'm simply pleased with my present situation...

Why Didn't Any Of You Tell Me?

You could have sent me an anonymous letter or staged an intervention or something! I never knew, but apparently...

...I am a negligent mother.

This came as quite a surprise to me, but the guy on the radio said so...

Annoying mother? Sure. Bossy mother? Most definitely! But negligent? Sorry, fella but I'm quite confident that that doesn't describe me.

I was listening to the local Christian radio station and some guy was being interviewed. He was adamantly declaring to all parents that we need to do a specific thing in our children's lives because it is our God-given obligation. I won't reveal what the "obligation" was since that's not my point.

My point is that what he was declaring as so important is something that God's Spirit neglected to make a single reference to in scripture. If it was really so vital, wouldn't God have inspired someone to mention it at least once?

We all have our own ideas and opinions which makes for interesting dialog among friends, but when we elevate those to being the Truth, then we can do some serious damage to the Body of Christ.

It's divisive and self-promoting. We begin to consider ourselves superior, quietly so, because we belong to the group that won't let our kids wear purple or let them drink orange juice for dinner. (Sorry, I had to pick stupid examples in order to not alienate any one.)

I've been guilty of this in the past and I'm sure I'll fail again, but I think it helps if we're aware of it.

When Tobias was born, sleep deprivation and a hormonal riot joined forces to almost send me to the nut house. A friend of mine introduced me to a book on baby scheduling. In my weepy stupor, I read it and immediately began applying the principles. The change that occurred was miraculous. He slept. I slept. I was converted!

I began to think that everyone needed to follow this book's rules. (And I say rules because that is how the guidelines were presented.) I thought that my friends who weren't doing what I was doing were out of God's will. I'm embarrassed to write that now.

Anyway, three and a half years later, Delaney was born. I happily applied the rules and soon discovered that what worked with him was failing dismally with her. She slept when she was supposed to be awake. She wasn't hungry when she was supposed to eat even though I had only tried to feed her when it was the proper time. I was miserable and she was probably longing for the old days in the womb.

I repented of my extraneous conversion and happily "backslid" into laxness.

God has been clear about what is right and wrong. When we try to further justify ourselves based on our own inclinations and musings, we end up being Pharisees.

Elementary School Musical

Delaney's class has been studying the California Gold Rush for the past few weeks. Their studies will culminate in the evening performance of a musical loosely based on the book The Great Horn Spoon.

Imagine my pride and joy when she announced to me the name of the character she'll be playing:

"Mom, I'm 'Saloon Girl #1'!"

"Oh, that's...great, honey."

(Another girl got the part of 'Mail Order Bride'.)

I scanned the script quite carefully and was pleased to see that her character's name was the only thing that caused me to raise an eyebrow.

God bless the Naive...

A Glorious Epiphany

I confess that for years, I felt a sharp pang of guilt every time I heard a reference to Romans 1:16, "For I am not ashamed of the gospel for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes."

I hated the reality, but if I was going to be honest, I had to admit that I couldn't notice that verse without feeling like a hypocrite. Recently, I was pondering that verse and praying, yet again, apologetically.

"Father, I don't want to be ashamed of the gospel..."

The gospel...the gospel...

As I mulled over the gospel, I focused on what the gospel is essentially: Holy God created me; I am a sinner in need of forgiveness; God provided that forgiveness through Christ's death; I recognize that it is only through His efforts that I can be right with Him; I'm now adopted into His family and He helps me to live my life in a way that honors Him, yet His love for me is not based on my own works.

That's when the glorious epiphany hit me: I'm not ashamed of THAT! I'm not ashamed of what Christ did nor am I ashamed of my desperate need for Him. I'm deeply thankful for His sacrifice. I'm anchored and maintained by the preciousness of it.

What I AM ashamed of is:
1) How some people present the gospel
2) The behavior of some people who are associated with the gospel
3) Myself and my own feelings of inadequacy at proclaiming the gospel

I was mistaking my shame over those things for shame over the gospel. The joy I felt at this realization was so genuine. I'm still smiling...

And so it begins...

My son (who shall remain anonymous for fear that this report will come back to bite him) has just received his first phone call from a girl. She called before he got home from school, so I took down her name and number, quelling my instinctive desire to ask her a million questions. He is presently in the tree out front returning the call. I am nobly resisting the urge to disguise myself as a squirrel so that I can eavesdrop. I'm wondering if this "first thing in the morning" picture of Tob...uh, I mean "my son" will silence the phone forever:

When Dreams Die...

One of my dreams died last night. I'm happy to report that it was not a dream which was deeply embedded in my heart. Still, it was a dream. It was this: that my family would learn to enjoy eating fish. We all know the health benefits associated with eating fish, so every few weeks for the past few years, I've bought small portions of fish (what ever is on sale, of course) and served it up for dinner. On the menu has been salmon, tilapia, bass, sheepshead, thrasher shark, swordfish, orange roughy and, most recently, red snapper. Well, the red snapper is what slammed a fat stake into the heart of my fish-eating dream.

Jeff asked what was for dinner as I was banging pots and pans around in the kitchen.

"Broccoli and macaroni and cheese," I answered.

"No meat?" he queried.

"Nope, no meat," I answered, honestly. (Technically, fish is not meat.)

A few minutes later, he incredulously asked, "What is that SMELL?"

I played dumb, but it only lasted for a few seconds because he figured it out. "We're having FISH, aren't we?"

I nodded, flashing him a hopeful smile.

A few minutes later, I had dinner on the table and had called the kids in, bracing myself for the imminent moans and groans they'd emit once they saw what was on their plates. They did not disappoint me. Over the years, I've heard comments such as, "Aw, sick!" "How much of this do I have to eat?" "Are you ever going to serve this again?" and "Mom, not even Dad likes this." One of the more positive comments has been, "Well, this isn't quite as disgusting as I expected it to be." Hmmm, praise indeed...

Anyway, Tobias has a way of inhaling the least desirable item on his plate first so that he can forget about it as he dines on the rest of his meal. Fortunately, his portion of fish yielded no bones. Jeff's, on the other hand, contained 9 bones (and this was a little 2" by 3" piece of fish!). After realizing how many bones might be in Delaney's piece, I broke it up into little bits and found 3. She still didn't trust it and used her hands to further dismantle her meal. Not a good idea, you'll see why later if you haven't already guessed.

Halfway through our dinner, Jeff announced to me that he didn't care for the new recipe of macaroni and cheese that I had prepared. No wonder he looked so sad as he forked bites of his meal into his mouth. When your favorite part of your dinner is the plain old steamed broccoli (which was a bit over-cooked, by the way), that makes for a depressing dining experience!

Realizing that the hearts of my family held no fondness for red snapper, I cleared the dishes and then washed them as thoroughly as I could, using lots of soap in hopes that no odor had adhered itself permanently onto the atoms of my crockery.

Once the kitchen was clean, the kids and I hopped into the car. I dropped them off at youth group and made my own way to women's bible study, silently wondering if Jeff was getting into the Honda and making his way to Burger King to purge his palate and memory of my most recent culinary concoction.

The dream died as a result of three chronological occurrences.

#1--During dinner, I realized that once again, though I had combed the internet for a 5 star fish recipe and had purchased fresh fish, my family still didn't like it. "How many times will I try this and fail?" I asked myself, pulling a fish bone out of my mouth. The glimmer of my dream began to tarnish as reality was finally setting in.

#2--When I returned from bible study, I opened the door to my house and walked straight into a wall of foul smelling air. This was no fish market, this was my home! Although I had thoroughly cleaned the dishes and all the surfaces that the red snapper had touched, the all-pervasive odor had effectively established a dictatorship over our beloved home and it was unknown how long it's oppressive reign would endure. However, the coup de grace was yet to come...

#3--The death-stroke to "fish for dinner" occurred when my precious little girl told me, "Mom, So-and-So at church smelled me at youth group tonight and said, 'You had fish for dinner, didn't you?'" When your kid starts to get the reputation for being the "Stinky One" at youth group, it is definitely time to end the fish fantasy.

There can be a bit of a relief when a dream dies. Now if only that stench would die with it.