My Dad

I  think a lot about my parents as I have become a parent.  I realize how naturally parenting came to them.  I imagine, they weren't always exactly sure of how to navigate the waters we churned up, but we never knew that.  As I watch people try to learn how to parent differently than how their parents did it--due to poor parenting, difficult marriages, simple neglect--I am thankful for a mom and dad who modeled solid parenting.  Many days, I have ideas and responses to the kids which seem to come from out of the blue.  "Wow, how did I learn to do that?"  I give thanks, time and time again, that I watched two of the best for 37 years.

I don't think it would be any secret to many people that I am my Dad's Number One Daughter.  (play on words because, in fact I am his first born.)  I'm not a 'daddy's girl' in that syrupy sweet kind of way.  But I am my Dad's daughter.  We share some strong DNA bonds, and because of that I have felt his advocacy over the years.  In many a situation he was guiding me out of personal experience. 

I hear a lot of parents talk about how they need to be an advocate for their kids.  The current use of this phrase usually means they stand up for their kids in situations where the kid might have been better served by learning the consequences.  Or the parents say it when someone is giving them an answer they don't like about their child. 

I'm referring to advocacy that reflects that my Dad knew me.  He knew how I felt in his bones.  He understood my reaction as sure as he understood his own.  Knew that I was angry.  Knew why I was reacting.  Knew why I found it so fun or interesting.  Most of the time, he was experiencing a similar reaction to mine.  What makes him such a fantastic person, is that he guided me through-whateveritwasIwasdealingwith-by molding the best course.  Not the way he might have reacted at my age, or how he might want to react now.  He would give great thought and attention to what might be the best lesson/way to handle/what to say, so that I had skills for the next time.  So that somehow, we all grew and moved forward.  (moving forward is big with my family.)

Many years ago, when I started college, I met this very cute boy during the first week of school.  (this is not the cute boy I married.)  I remember finding a common bond over our father's work.  He said, "Oh, so you know what it like to have him gone all the time.  Messing up schedules and just being tired.  It's a pain." (this may not be a direct quote)  I agreed and nodded along.."Oh, yeah.  What a pain."  I sold my Dad out, all for a cute boy.  (i'm still friends with said boy and he did get me a date with my husband a few years later...but, this wouldn't be the last time I chose 'cute' over my family in my 20s.)  What I should have said was..."I know my Dad was busy, but he was always there."

He wasn't always there, of course.  In most families, Dad's are gone most of the day.  Mine was physically gone for more than a typical work day.  He was gone at odd times and we did have to create some pretty goofy schedules to include him in activities.  But I don't remember this huge hole in my life where my Dad was always gone, or busy, or tired, or complaining about one of the above.  There is no drama with my Dad--at least not of the emotional kind.  He is no prima donna.  He never demanded special attention or to be handled with kid gloves.  I don't remember his absence because he was there.  When he was with us, he was with us.  He was into what we were into.  He was attentive to who we were.  When he was with us, it was about us--in a positive way.

Today, as we give thanks for our Father....and all those who are Fathers...I think my Dad.  I am his daughter. He is my Number One Dad.  For that I am more grateful than he will ever know.  Happy--everydayis--Father's Day, Dad!!

"The Secret" ** for Real Estate

It has been over two weeks since anyone has wanted to see our house. With the "threat" of lowering the price looming, I decided to take action. I enlisted a philosophy of "if you clean it, they will come (buy) it." Sure enough 3:45 today I got a call saying someone wants to see it tomorrow. I hope the fresh flowers and chocolates on the table help sell it for someone.


**I have never, and, probably, will never read The Secret. I got the gist of it from Oprah.  Eh.  I do enjoy a happy conscience, though.

Kids on the Block

We have new neighbors near us. Lovely people. Two small kids near in age to BB. Their presence has increased BB's time outside. If he catches a glimpse of his new friends outside, zip, zap he is out the door. Peer pressure starts early, I guess. The new presence of kids to play with on a daily basis has increased BB's sassy level, he much more hyper and jazzed. Needless to say, I don't like it. He now calls me 'Ma, Ma' in a sweet sing-songy--baby voice--instead of his flat nearly stoic, 'Mom.' I don't like this change either.

Sometime this week I read this blog entry. The new kids in my life plus this entry got me thinking.  (read her entry and some comments to fully understand the conversation I am entering.)

The first realization I came to was that, I don't allow haven't encouraged the kids to have many 'play-dates.'  They have spent time in church nurseries...a couple of hours a month.  They have played with the kids of my friends.  They play at parks and museums.  But, I haven't encouraged many in house play times...even with familiar parents from church or school.

I'm a control freak.  No way around it.  I want my kids exposed to what I what them exposed to.  In my defense for those who don't know me...I don't run screaming from a situation where they are exposed to something...say a random Batman character or water gun.  In public, I'm no where near a drama queen and actually do my best to down play any internal craziness...how well I do will show up in the comment section of this entry.

But as I thought it over these are the biggies that I watch for and limit exposure to--mostly with families we are just meeting at school or church.  Obviously, I have friends who don't share my thoughts or intensity on some of these issues...friendship seems to trump differences for me.  Probably, because I either know the intent and, just to sound cheesy--heart--of my friend.  Also, as friends we can talk about differences.

(first off, I'm not even listing inappropriate touching, tickling or sexual comments...I think they are a given, rather than a peculiarity from family to family.  Also, known drug/alcohol abuse aren't even optional.  For me firearms in the home make my list as well--fully acknowledging that I am out of many people's mainstream views on this point.)

1.  Manners and attempt at respecting each other.  In my early parenting and  pre-parenting life I was even more harsh on this.  "Teach your children to say 'Please and thank you'.  They should be able to say 'Hi' when greeted."  Then I had children and I do teach them.  I model it.  They are still woefully lacking and so I cut the kids some slack...but a parent that is rude or doesn't model good manners, basic civility and respect for those around them won't be spending much time with my kids.

2.  Age appropriate toys and themes.  We are going to be the nerds on the block on this one until our kids go off to college.  I think four is too young for Super Heroes and Star Wars.  I think two is too young for a manicure and even pretend make-up.  I think we are encouraging our kids to grow up way too fast in all areas.  It has taken me all year to formulate an argument past, "I think it is wrong that PeterPaulSam wears and talks about Star Wars all day long."  (and I really wish he hadn't taught you about it at school.)

It pushes two buttons...first, we are rushing childhood.  (and allowing marketing to do so--but that is another entry all together.)  My son is four.  4.  FOUR.  If he is playing with toys and themes traditionally created for eight to ten year-olds, what will he be doing when he IS eight or ten?  Not playing video games...not with the nerd parents he has.  Why are we rushing their childhoods along?
Which pushes me to reason number two, 'We' don't like to say no to our kids.  It is a pain to have to explain why our family doesn't buy that or read this or turn on the TV then.  It is a pain to say "Nope.  You are too young." and then listen to whining.  Especially, when you know Batman isn't inherently a bad guy.  So the collective 'we' cave.  (somewhere in this paragraph might be a parenting style deal breaker as well...)

All I will add for my daughter is that I think there is very little value in teaching girls about princesses.  Seriously?  What are we teaching with this message?  Now, dress up...being fancy does not bother me as much.  Again, she's two. How fancy does a two year old really need to be?  She is extremely happy to have discovered sand.  The adornment and fanciness young girls are emulating is more complex and less clear cut in my mind than violence, rage, and fighting.  I have next year to formulate my thoughts on this.

In this category falls, gender roles.  I have a boy and I have a girl.  I can't can sit here and write that there aren't inherent differences between the two.  But, I prefer to view it as they are different people.  I cringe when people put labels of "boy toys" and "girl toys" on things.  I bite my lip when people only pick 'pink or purple' when guessing what EG's favorite color is.  (It is yellow or orange--and she'll tell you.)  I love the faces when people learn my son loves Fancy Nancy (the book) or when we bought him a doll at two.  EG loves blocks and trucks.  Granted, she loves to play trucks WITH her brother.  I see her drawn to social interaction in a different way than BB.  I see him pick up interaction between stuffed animals or toy people from her leading.  But it seems healthier to allow these differences to be articulated as unique to the individual, rather than "because he's a boy and she's a girl."

3.  Religion, politics...
Obviously, I have thoughts here.  I think if I came across someone forcing their ideas on my kids (verses casual comments or slip ups) our time together would be over.  I have the image of someone sitting my kid down to tell them the ills of X or Y political party or sharing some off the grid religious doctrine with them.  (Now, mind you this area is more of an issue within family, than it is among our friends.)  Likewise, if someone felt a need to dismiss or challenge my kid's belief--I would see red.

In some ways I am simply jumping in to the conversation started at The Hollywood Housewife.  It also struck me as a helpful exercise to really narrow what are my deal breakers...and I'll always take a moment to share my opinion...at least anonymously.  ;)

Days

Some days there are things you have to do...
such as yesterday.
We are planning a trip across the border.  Three out of four of us either don't have a passport or need to have it renewed.  The kids and I had to go to the bank and down to the 'oh, so mysterious' safety deposit box vault.  We grabbed the necessary paperwork and headed to the Vital Records Department.  EG needed a birth certificate.  After that we drove the Post Office and the Passport Office.  I collected the necessary paperwork, absorbed the cost of passports for children and made an even longer list of things to do before our passport appointment.

Other days there are things you just want to do...
today, I took the kids to Panera for bagels (and coffee).  We came home and played around with various ways to preserve cut hydrangeas. (I settled on hot water)  I love how they look in a vase but I can never keep the arrangement for longer than a few hours.  Then I wrapped up two cups of flowers and we drove them to a few friends.  Our pottery was ready so we stopped by the shop to pick it up.  The kids were so excited to see their creations.  We had lunch with a parishioner and came home to rest and write.  Now, I am being called into BB's room.  He has an art store set up.  He has "25 or 80 pieces" of work to show me.  There is also a coffee shop set up next door.  Reportedly, it sells everything that I drink.

As I make my way over to the art gallery, I realize the next day I need to have involves...
a vacuum.
a cleaning rag.
and a laundry machine.

Results of Painting...

Sermon on Luke 7

Last weekend BB and EG experienced their first trip to the basement for a tornado warning.  It threw BB for a bit of a loop, I must say.  For days following he was very in tune to the weather.  Running inside the minute a rain drop fell or quite concerned about leaving the house if there was wind or clouds.  Obviously, we left the house.  But one day during quiet time, he came to the office.  I had my Bible open—which must have been code for “Mom’s connected to God right now.” Because he said this to me.  “You should tell God to not send tornados.  God should make better decisions.”  A bit later, he checked back…from the doorway he wrapped his body around the door jam and had one foot up in the air…all breeze he asked, “Have to you told God to make better decisions yet…”

A friend of mine told me to tell BB that she has had the very same conversation with God a number of times over the years.  Perhaps for you, shaking your fist at God or demanding that God makes better choices seems a bit dangerous, blasphemous or unfaithful.  Some of us wrestle with God a bit more than others…but I imagine if we are honest most of us have wanted God to get to work on our requests a little faster…or wondered why X, Y or Z struggle was going on in our life.  All of us have also experienced those moments when God makes it very clear our ways, are not God’s ways.  The systems we live by, the rules we play with, the boxes we assign people, the walls we build…all of them come crashing down, or opened up or blown through in one way or another.

If this man were a prophet, he would have known who and what kind of woman this is who is touching him—that she is a sinner.

Simon sees this scene of confusing compassion and say to himself, “If this man knew what I know, he’d be doing this differently.”

This familiar story appears in each of the four gospels…Luke in an interesting move ties the events to the beginning of Jesus’ ministry…pulling the woman’s anointing of Jesus away from his death and burial, highlighting instead the radical nature of Jesus’ hospitality and forgiveness.  It helps us see some of what got Jesus killed in the first place.  He was a one man wrecking ball when it came to people’s religious rules, and society’s sense of what sin was.

Simon is often held up as a warning for self righteous behavior, but Luke turns the tables on his readers—you and I--as well….we get caught in our own assumptions about the woman, simon, Jesus.  Luke introduces the story by setting us up to wonder about this woman…

say for a moment you were at a close friend’s home and someone infamous from your community walks in that you have never met, you can’t imagine your friend knows them…they throw off their shoes, begin to open cabinets in the kitchen, grab a glass of water, asking if the host would like one, too…hugs your friend and plops down on the couch.  Acting for all the world like they belong at this party.

In verse 47 we hear Jesus say, “Therefore I tell you her sins which were many have been forgiven HENCE….she has shown great love.  It is perfect tense…as in her lavish love is being poured out on to Jesus because she was already forgiven.  She was forgiven…before this party…and ever since she was forgiven she has been responding this way…her gratitude overflows.  She has kept on acting like she belongs at the party.  Belongs at God’s party of lavish love and gracious joy.

Luke wants us to realize Jesus does know better than we do.…

It is mirror in front of our hearts…showing us how jealous, insecure, immature, fragile our faith is.  Categorizing people, or labeling which box to put that topic in…deciding for ourselves what sins are forgiveable and which aren’t.  Making sure we make out the guests lists on who gets God’s compassion…keeping general order.

To some of us, we love a good story of justice prevailing over what we perceive to be the status quo---we love Jesus the rebel.  But how sanitized is this story for us…we might hold it as a beautiful story of Jesus tipping the apple cart 2,000 years ago, but what if it were our apple cart…our cultural realty, what if it were our lives Jesus came to destabilize—then it starts to look pretty scary.

We can begin to claim to mind of God.  We can claim to know that limits of God’s action.  Or we can trust in God’s promises.

Promises, such as “your sins have been forgiven...”  Forgiveness is at the heart of this text for the day.  It is what started it all and honestly it started our lives as well…in the waters of our baptism, through the nourishment of bread and wine, in the stories and promises passed down from our ancestors….This is true.  Life begins through the promise….You are forgiven.

It is in that proclamation that our worldly judgments come head to head with God’s judgment of mercy and grace.

Your sins are forgiven, go in peace.  We, we humans, tend to view forgiveness as a one time event.  “Oh, ok…God forgives me…I can go about my life.”  We stand relieved at the not-guilty verdict and walk out of courtroom glad to have that over.  But really it is a life changing, on going activity.  An act, a promise by God that is meant to draw us into the work of God to make things right….

We are forgiven so that we can be drawn in to the work of God…God, God the Creator, God in Jesus, God in the Holy Spirit—God comes to Create.  To bless.  To restore.  To save.  That is what God is up to in your life.

On the other hand Sin is the opposite of what God is up to  Sin…breaks apart.  Tears down.  It kills.  It condemn.

Forgiveness of sin upends everything and it is meant to sweep us up…so that it is no longer “I who lives but Christ who lives in me.”  We are drawn into the work of God to bless, to restore, to save in every aspect of our life.  In our families, in our jobs, in our community, the economy, the environment, all areas of this magnificent world God gave us.  You in your own way, are meant to be swept up into the lavish love of God.

A few years ago, in my first parish, I found myself swept up into the drama of a family in the congregation.  For a variety of reasons the family was not active in the congregation but had been and called upon me when the father was in the hospital near death.  Over the weeks before he died I visited him at the hospital and when he went home on hospice I came once to hold his hand and offer a prayer.  I met his children over the weeks—they shared their father’s traits of surliness, anger, alcohol abuse, chain smoking and uneasiness around clergy.  One daughter stuck out to me..mostly because her body language and demeanor reminded me of an abused animal.  For reasons known only to this family, she was the lowest on the totem pole in their family.  It was a situation full of abuse and sin….sin that breaks apart, tears down, kills and condemn.  Through brief conversations and over time, she heard me say that God forgave the sins of her family and that God did not view her as the world—or her family—viewed her.  God wanted life for her…

A little while later, she saw in the church news letter that we needed someone to clean the church.  So she began.  It became her refuge.  We had the cleanest church in the whole of the ELCA.  Then she saw a flower garden near our parking lot that had not been planted…she asked if she could plant it.  As the flowers grew, she experienced the life changing promise of God’s forgiveness granted upon us all.

If you were ever to have driven by this church, tucked away in a poor industrial neighborhood …you might not have noticed the humble flower garden.  But each day when I walked by it on my way into my office, I saw the world as God longs for it to be and I was swept up in that promise…

Your sins are forgiven, go in peace.

* Parts of this sermon were inspired by  The Working Preacher and Facebook comments at This week in Preaching

I've Got a Fever

Yesterday was EG's baptismal birthday.  We have the tradition of doing something special to celebrate.  Last year she got a toy for the bath while we were at a children's museum.  This year we repeated something BB had done when he was two.  We painted crosses at a local paint your own pottery place.  She got into it and even called the day her "bath-birthday," which of course it is.  Washed in God's love...such a special child of God.

She was also a sick child of God.  Turns out the warmth I felt on her wasn't just excitement or sunshine.  By early evening she was HOT.  At bedtime she was uncomfortable and crying out for me every 20 mins or so.  I decided to snuggle into my bed with her as we waited for my husband to come home (he was very late--11pm late.) and the fever to pass.

EG is a hoot with a fever.  Here are few of her more memorable statements between 8pm and 6am.

She was naked in bed with me, laying across my chest.  I'd think she was asleep, until she'd pop up with the energy of wild horse.  In her voice you can tell she a bit drugged or at least effected by her 104.9 fever.

+"Where's your mom and dad?"  she asked me.  "In Minnesota."  I replied.  "Minnesota.  That's where Grandma and Papa live. And Santa.  Santa walks around there.  With legs, Santa walks on legs."

+Later she starts to giggle to herself and then pops up to look at me.  "Where's Daddy?  Is he in my crib?  You and Daddy (she's laughing harder now) should sleep in my crib."  giggling myself, I say, "Sleep in your crib?!  You think we could do that."  "Yes.  I'll just stay here. With your pillows."

+At around 4 or 5am she is back in bed with us.  She looks over at my husband, "Daddy, where you go?"  He mumbles that he was at work.  "No, now...what you doing?"  He mumbles again that he had to "go potty."  "Daddy, you can have my diapers."  Then in a very absent minded way, spoken to no one in particular, "No more diapers for me...but right now I need 'em."
 

Theology with BB--weather edition

My husband and I recently left town.  While gone, my parents got to experience the kids' first trip to the basement for a tornado warning. 

The experience made an impact on BB.  Last night, as I tucked him in to bed, he wondered if there would be any over the nighttime.  Today, he over heard a news story reporting on the damage done around the Midwest and he asked again if they were coming our way. 

Then even later in the day he stopped in to the office for this gem of a conversation.  It highlights many lessons four year olds work on in preschool and life.

"Mom, I was shinking (thinking) a 'ittle during my quiet time...I don't like tornadoes.  Tornadoes are bad."
Long pause.
"You should tell God to take away all those tornadoes.  Because God doesn't make good decisions.  God shouldn't send any more."
Long pause as he stands in the door way.  I have my Bible open on the desk.  I look at him and nod my head up and down in a manner to reflect my concern for his insights and a slight dismissal so he doesn't see me start to laugh.  After a bit more time, he leaves.
A few minutes later, he pops his head around my door.  He wraps his body around the door jam and his right foot kicks up in the air.
In a breezy tone he inquires, "Did you tell God to make better decisions yet?"

Oh yeah, that.

I suppose if I am to work on "being ME" I have to work on allowing others to be "themselves."  It is wasted energy to make them into who I want them to be. Or expect.  Or dream. Or need.

I wish the energy I have expended on this enterprise in the past burned calories.  I'd have two 'happiness project' gold stars on the refrigerator right now.

The Happiness Project

I finished a book.  It took much longer than I had planned.  I think I may need glasses...so there is that to slow me down.  Plus, it wasn't a novel so I got a tad bored...or was filled with enough information for the night...and had to put it down.

The author blogs at this link...The Happiness Project.

I found it helpful and inspirational.  It did jump start me out of some dull drums.  The book is probably most applicable to those at any point of a midlife crisis or transition.  I imagine a lot of people would find it unnecessary, trite or narcissistic.  Much like I found the ever popular Eat, Pray, Love.  The Happiness Project is much more pragmatic and grounded.  Plus I share many traits of Gretchen Rubin, the author.  She gives herself gold stars for achieving her monthly goals.  I like gold stars.  I often wish life handed them out.

One of her basic tenants is to "Be Gretchen."  Or in my case, "Be Me."  Seems so simple you are probably saying, "You kept reading after this earth-shattering idea.  Revolutionary."  I imagine you using your sarcastic voice.  (which is not very helpful to use if  you are trying to be happy. so stop, please.)  "Be *insert name here*" seems simple and obvious, but how many times in a day do you make a choice based on who you want to be, who others have decided you are, or try to present yourself as more...excited, smart, dumb, bored...than you really are.  Like what you like.  Whether that be food, clothing, music, tv, movies...  Think how you think.  Speak up about these things.

The episode of Seinfeld tonight had George doing a bit on pesto.  "I hate pesto."  Jerry ask why he ordered it. " I feel like I am suppose to like it.  Everyone likes pesto.  All of sudden everywhere you turn people are eating pesto.  I don't like it."  So stop ordering it...just be George.

Simply being yourself is much harder than you think it is.  But you might as well give it a try--You may be happier for it.

It's Tough, All Right

Some friends and I started a Bible study group.  It was born out of appetizers, drinks, dessert and lament over the direction-lacking mom's groups we have attended.  We wanted our own.  One where it was ok to love the Lord and enjoy a drink or two.  One where didn't have to take an oath to respect our husband any more than we do ourselves or our friends.  A place where we could talk about something other than our kids.  And a group that, you know, actually reads the material in anticipation of the class.

Perhaps what makes this the most fun is that we choose a Beth Moore Bible study as our first book.  One of us "just had to get it our of her system."  And, the Lutheran version of Beth Moore needs to get crackin' on her lecture series, so there really isn't much out there for Lutheran women.  We choose a study on Esther.  Here is a link to the book from amazon.com.

I have been warned by a number of colleagues that Beth Moore will drive me nuts.  After one session, I can't say that this is true.  People forget that over the past four years I have been well versed in all things woman-mom-baptist-conservative.  Not much is going to shock me anymore.  And by the grace of God and the fierce winds of the Holy Spirit I have even come to appreciate some of what my more conservative sisters are up to.
(yes, you have the correct blog.)

My first impressions of Beth Moore's series and style:
She is well spoken.  Very engaging.  But not sickeningly sweet.  She's sweet, don't get me wrong but with more authority than I expected.
She doesn't gloss over or simplify her topic.  She didn't dumb much down in the introduction.
She's funny.
She didn't offend me.

It was also obvious that mainline-moderate Christians were not her target audience.  I got pretty bored while she presented her defense of why Christians should study the book of Esther.  She felt she had to overcome two obstacles--the fact God isn't mentioned by name and that it is about a woman.

Beth--may I call you Beth?--took great care in laying out why we should study this book.  She drew in the idea of 'providence' to point to God's presence in the book*.  She took a great amount of time to go over the power and purpose of providence.  Again, losing me.  Not because I couldn't keep up, but because I place as much priority to the (Calvinism) theological emphasis on God's providence as I do to the idea of purgatory.

It was also obvious she was working with the presumption that some of her audience needed permission to listen to a woman teach them about God.  She took (too) great pains to quote and highlight outside sources.  Clearly the woman knows her stuff.  She could have easily taught us without the constant references to Biblical dictionaries and commentaries.  While she didn't say it, I got the feeling it was done so that Pastors and church leaders wouldn't complain or comment on her exercising authority and knowledge.

It was a long introduction that was short on the actual book's history.

While I remain open minded and even hopeful I will learn and grow from the series....I was left wondering just how Tough (Being a Woman) this might get.

*My Bible's introduction says this "Coincidences (or possibly providence) combine with human initiative to bring about a resolution in which good triumphs over evil."  The Harper Collins Study Bible NRSV

May 27

My last entry was about a life long friend.  Today I gave thanks for those friends who live close, those you see on a daily-sometimes hourly-basis.  The ones you can call for no reason and hang up on in a hurry. The ones that take your kids with a smile and willing spirit.  The ones who feel free to call upon me for help and assistance.  And, the ones who answer when you have a bit of a crisis....

For instance...when your car battery dies in a mall parking lot.  Dies, dead as dead can be, 20 mins before you need to pick up for son from his last day of preschool for the year.  Friends who drive you...
to your son at school
drive you all to lunch
then to your house to get jumper cables...only to realize you don't have the garage door opener (it is in your car)
so she drives you back to the car at the mall to get the garage door opener,
then back to your house
then back to the car at the mall
where you jump the battery--which both of you knew was dead as dead could be, but three men had told me to jump it anyway.  (lesson learned, if I *know* something--just follow through on my own idea)
and then she waits with me for the tow truck to come.  (and another man tries to jump start the battery--seriously, guys--accept defeat. Dead is dead.)
then she takes you home.
Never making you feel like she was burdened in anyway...which of course it was.  Driving around the same loop of a suburb from 11:00am to 3:00pm was not how she planned, or needed, to spend her day.

It isn't just that she answers my calls...it isn't just that she lives near me.  If I'm thankful for nothing else about life here in this town, I am thankful to know her.  Thankful to know such a person exists in the world.  It is always a blessing to stumble upon a kindred spirit.  I am grateful for her and her graceful poise, humor, creativity, dedication and friendship...although, I may have used up my automotive cards for the year.

May 26

They sat across from each other sipping their coffee.  With a natural rhythm of people who have done this before, their forks traded off cutting through the vanilla cheesecake.  No one around them could have guessed what they were talking about.  They found it surreal and unnatural. 

They were friends who had guided each other through grade school recess.  Each had stories to tell on the other of awkward adolescent dating rituals.  Each had disappointed the other.  They had both forgotten the disappointment.  They had been together on their most important days.  Often in body, always in spirit.  They were a constant in the others life, yet they barely contacted each one another. 

Weeks, months go by and neither would call or write.  But when they sat across from each other over coffee and cheesecake, they could talk with an honestly and intimacy known only to the very rarest of friends.  The essence of the conversation on this day went like this:

One said, "You know, I need to say this.  I'm sorry I wasn't around to support you more when you had EG.  I was jealous.  We had been trying to have our second.  I would have loved a little girl.  It was just too hard for me.  I know you understand."
The other said.  "I knew that.  And, things were bad for me....for us."
One said, "I knew that."
The other said, "I was jealous of you, too.  I didn't know what to do or how to help.  But I was jealous.  How horrible is that?  How absolutely wrenched is that?"
One said.  "I know.  You were there.  I get it though."
The other said.  "You know I love you."
One said,  "Yep.  I love you, too."

And they ate their cheesecake.


It is almost as if the rawness of their love and care for each other needs to be spaced out.  They poke each other on facebook and write sentences back and forth.  They have no idea what each other is doing on any given day. If you were only to look upon this exchange you'd never know they can bare their souls to each other.  But they can.  They do.  They have.  They will always.

*On May 26th my friend married a boy she met in college.  She loved him.  He loved her.  They have a darling son.  They would have been married nine years, today.  She is on my heart.

Things they said

As you can probably tell, some of these entries are for the grandparents.  I don't suspect random strangers or even friends find that everything my kids say is hilarious, or even cute.  I also use this space as a place to keep the memories and random sayings of any given moment.  With that said, here are some more:

+When EG cries--for whatever reason--as parents we naturally mutter some version of -- meant to be--soothing "shhh, shhh."  We say it to calm her, we saying without thinking.  Lately, she responds by stopping the crying and looking up at us to say, "No, I just want to cry.  Let me cry."  She returns to crying.
We start to laugh--internally, of course.  She takes the "shhh" sound to mean the same as what it means in church when she tries to give the sermon instead of our pastor.  :)

+Today is hot.  HOT!  BB has been running around as I "work" in the office.
He came in and said, "Mom, I am thirsty."
I said, "Ok, one minute.  I'll get you something."
"No, mom.  I am thirsty.  I'm thirstier than you love me."
"Not possible, my friend. Not. possible."

Tangible Contribution

Any calling I have entered into as an adult has lacked tangible means to measure my contribution.  Marriage.  Ministry.  Motherhood.  How do you know if what you are doing is making an impact?  What's the goal, anyway?  When you sit at a review (and two of these callings have no formal review process) what does your personnel committee really measure?  On many, if not most, days, when the sun sets I wonder what difference I made.  The 'long view' is my only saving grace.

To offset this, I turn to concrete tasks.  Concrete tasks help soften the blow of writing sermon after sermon on loving your neighbor, which from evidence taken in the committee meetings, are falling on deaf ears.  Concrete tasks round out your usefulness when your day has been spent folding bulletins...half of which won't be picked up.  Concrete tasks are helpful when you've sat with someone for the third week in a row listening to absolute horrific pain and sorrow, knowing full well there are no words, let alone yours, that will fill the hole in their life.  I'm not saying what I did wasn't of value or wasn't meaningful.  In most cases, it is exactly what I was called to do and be.  But it just so happens that what I am called to be isn't very concrete.  I can't measure if it made an impact. This may not be as frustrating to some as it is to me.  I like to know where I stand.  I like tangible.  I really like tangible growth.  And, I'd like it rightnowplease.

When I served as a full time pastor, my days off were dedicated to cleaning the house.  I took absolute joy in seeing my pristine white towels folded and stacked in a orderly fashion.  I was satisfied to remove a full bag of dog hair from the vacuum.  I stood back and sighed in bliss at the sight of a sparkling kitchen.

These days, I take the same joy in laundry stains.  I find deep satisfaction over my success at getting mustard, chocolate and grease stains out of EG's clothes.  (I say EG, because the rest of us manage to keep our clothes nearly food-free.)

I am just finishing up her dress from Sunday.  White hem and chocolate ice cream...what a delight!  What fun!  Absolute joy!

I'm not sure my words of correction, insight or admonishment are making any in roads with her development (or him) but I do know my bleach pen got the chocolate out.  Proof enough, for today.

We Have Picked You

I'm not sure who threw my email address into the fishbowl of freebies but whoever did, did so with abandon.  In the last week my junk box has been overflowing.  Should I choose to open any of these emails, I might learn just what I "won" but for now I only read the subject lines.

Free computer
Free Labtop
My Laptop is shipping-Confirm today
Confirm-We have your Grant waiting
Free Xerox printer waiting for you
Disney Movies are waiting for us to ship to your children
Please Confirm your camera is waiting.
You have won--take a survey and we will pay for lunch
Click Here for YOUR next Puppy

And, apparently I am in need of more education.
Mothers, finish your degree
Nurses needed
College degrees online
Finish your education
Medical Transcription is Your Future
Get your associates degree here
Pole Dancing Classes
President Obama wants you to finish your degree


We must not forget my friends far away.
Deerest Kind Woman, I wrte from my hart to plea for my families life.  You, deer Christians lady, I invite you to send me money.


**edit**  My absolute favorite grouping arrived today:

		USA Honor Society			Your Certificate of Achievement is Ready‏
		A Place For Mom			Elder Care -- Top 5 Options!‏
		Houskeeper For You			Find a housekeeper today‏

How it goes these days

 Here are some funny quotes heard around our house.

EG is working on talking her self through what she should and shouldn't do.  As she opens the markers and crayons to color at the kitchen table...
"I no color on table.  Don't color on hands.  No, no (as she looks at plastic box).  No body color on my feet.  I no color on table.  Can't color on the tree.  (she is looking out the window now)  I no color on balls.  I can't color on Abbabelle's poop.  I no color on table.  I onbly color on paper..."  (she was coloring as this lengthy conversation went on.)

The kids are fighting more these days.  Finding ways to egg each other on.  Often the major problem is that EG repeats EVERYTHING BB says.  She also repeats phrases and words she has heard but, of course, has no idea of what she is saying.  (but then sometimes she does know, so I can see where BB gets confused as he plays with her.)  A favorite litany (screamed) back and forth surrounds the topic of who is the boss.

Apparently, my husband and I do not live up to this role sufficiently for their liking.  So figuring that we aren't in the running, they compete again each other.  "You are not the boss, EG!"  "Yes, I am.  You am'nt the boss, BB"  Back and forth.  Sometimes the older one will throw me a bone..."Mommy's the boss here, EG.  NOT YOU."

The other morning.  EG was having a melt down over the fact I absentmindedly snapped her chair strap (fyi: you do not do anything for her that she can do for herself.  your day will be better for knowing this tip.)  I decided to leave it and let her deal with the fact I had done something helpful for her.  She was screaming "foul" over my kindness.  My Husband and I were getting breakfast and making lunch.  BB decided to calm his sister down.  He said something to her about being quiet and eating.  He was using his big boy/teacher/calm voice to sooth her and offer ideas of how she could stop crying.  At one point he just put his hands over his ears.  To all of this she yelled, "You aren't the boss."  In a remarkable display of "things you learned this year,"  BB replied, calmly..."You can be the boss of yourself, EG."  (now pipe down)


FYI:  EG is our two year old daughter and BB is her four year old brother.  They live with a dog and two parents, who are mostly in charge.

The Glow of Youth

Today we toasted BB's student teacher with punch and cookies.  It was her final day at his preschool before heading off to graduation and a summer wedding.

Over the course of her time in BB's class room I haven't had much interaction with her.  Her presence in my son's life has been minimal.  I haven't caught any hint of her impact on his education or school experience.  I could tell BB was only there today for the cookies and punch.

While some students were crying and grabbing her in enormous hugs, BB merely shook her hand and gave an awkward side hug.  He saved his biggest smile and leg hug for his "real" teacher, (whom he did report was "back in the classroom full time".) thanking her for the party on our way out the door.

So it came as a surprise to me that I teared up at the party.  After the three and four year olds had their fill of party treats and social time, they were invited to sit in a circle around the Guest of Honor.  This bright, sweet, and kind woman sat on the floor beaming as fifteen or so children settled down around her.  A few of the kids were nearly in her lap they were so excited for the gift opening.  The lead teacher said a few words and then presented her with some gifts.  She seemed touched and thankful.  One was a gift certificate to a school supply store where the Student Teacher will be living after she gets married.  The students gently passed around the figurine that had been picked out.  Oooo--ing and ahhh-ing as they handed it to the person sitting next to them.  Then they scooted in even closer to her as she began to look at each card they had made for her.

It was a beautiful scene.  But I don't think it was the caring teachers or adorable kids that brought tears to my eyes.  I think it was the memory of what it felt like to stand on the precipice of a whole new life.  Graduation.  Marriage.  First Job.  While I am sure there is also fear and uncertainty behind her smile and bright eyes.  Because, of course, she has no idea.

None of us did. We sat in circles opening gifts, overwhelmed not by the outpouring of love so much as the foggy feeling that life was moving faster than we could take in.  Perhaps that is why I teared up.  In that moment I had a chance to reflect on the times when I sat there--surround by my life and love and overwhelming joy.

I stood in the gym, in the middle of my future, giving thanks for all that has been...and pretended something was in my eye.

Mother's Day

Mother's Day, for me, is still more about my mother than it is about me being one.  Not that my own mother would know this, as my card to her just hit the mailbox yesterday.  Each of my cards need to be sent far across the Midwest--none of them will arrive on time.  Which is also 'ok' by my mom.  She has always told us that Every Day should be Mother's Day.

And, I believe for her they have been.  Not in an overly romanced, rosy way...I am sure many a day she could have thought of other things to do...but over all, she gave the impression that she enjoyed it.  Enjoyed the process of nurturing her kids.  Made us feel like a gift.  Each of her three children challenged her in their own way.  All at once, over the course of our lives, we said, "Look here," and somehow she did.

For me she has always been my touch stone.  The source I check in with first.  She is the one I call to talk about everything, nothing or the specific.  It is her eye that I trust.  Her human compass that I keep in my pocket, as I navigate a situation.  Smile.  Be direct.  Be Kind.  More blush.

She has my back, even when she shouldn't.  Or, when I don't need it.  Or, when I don't want it.

And, yes she is the one whose approval matters.  Sometimes, often times, the most.

I'm working on that.  We're working on that.

Here is the greatest part about my mom, the part every one should have, but many don't...the part I am most thankful for..

Last week, as the house hunt was going down the wrong pipe, she said something to me in a conversation.  Specifics don't matter.  I heard it.  It made me mad.  It pushed some buttons.  And instead of fuming.  Instead of holding on to it, I called my mom.  I said, "Hey mom, ya know when you said that, it made me feel like this."  Then we talked about it.  Honestly.  Openly.  We talked without fear of anything bad happening to our relationship.  We had complete confidence that good would come out of our efforts.  Knowing I can do that, has made me who I am.  It has been the nurturing I have needed.

Time and time again she had to model this level of grace and patience for me because, sometimes, it wasn't always safe or comfortable for her to engage me in conversation.  (think junior high hormones)  I am sure, no, I know, that in 50%-70% of our conversations my mom was done with the topic way before I was.  I know she didn't understand my drama.  Why I was still on this.  Where this emotion and passion was springing forth from...I know in many a conversation, she was done.

But she wasn't.  She did her absolutely best to stay with me.  To hear my rants and raves...often ducking to dodge the brunt force of my words.  She was there.  And I know she always will be there. 

She has my back, even when she shouldn't.  Or, when I don't need it.  Or, when I don't want it.

I love you, Mom. Thanks.  Happy Every Day.

Thursday

Wednesday night after returning home at 11pm from class and friend time, I learned that we had a house showing the next afternoon.  Thursday morning I woke up ready to clean.  After BB was at school, we raced back and I began.  I had on my "bleachable" cleaning clothes and crazy hair.  About 20 mins in to my whirlwind, the FBI knocked at my door.  And there began my day.

They weren't there for me.  But nevertheless my heart stopped a little.  "What the %^&*?" I thought to myself.  He was very nice.  It is a very fancy badge.  They do wear dark suits.  He was doing a background check on a neighbor who has applied for a job with the Federal Gov't.  I reported what I knew about her and said, that "Yes to the best of my knowledge she is a good American."  (a friend wondered if they knew much about me...my comments to over throw the government are only in jest and, I might add,  they were actually the very essence of the American spirit.)

The house was cleaned.  I picked up BB.  I had to finish the floors in the house so I left BB and EG in the car.  They were in the garage, a bit put out that I was leaving them, I put on a cd.  I lost track of time, but can't imagine it was near 20 mins...BB called out that the cd had stopped playing.  The battery in my car was dead.

Wanting a bit of adventure in my day, I pushed the car into neutral and began to push it out of the driveway...actually anticipating the excitement of running and JUMPING back into the car to slam on the brakes.  That was the fun part.  I called a friend (is there a word beyond friend?  Because she fits into a category beyond simply friend.) to see if she was around and had nothing else to do but jump my car battery.  She, of course, was waiting with baited breathe for me to call and request her help.  (not)  While I waited for her the neighbor across the street tried to help, but either our cables didn't work or the connection was bad...I sent him on his way to a meeting.  Once my friend arrived we got the other cables and gave it a go.  My car roared to full power.

I had to keep the car running to charge the battery, I needed breakfast and lunch AND we had a house showing in a few hours.  I decided to drive 45 mins away to have Chipotle for lunch.  It was completely worth it.

Upon arriving home at around 4pm, I started dinner.  At 5pm I looked at my calendar only to find I had a meeting to go to.  (one which I never quite sure why I am in attendance of)  I called my Husband and he met me at the church.  We traded cars.  I went to a meeting.  He took kids home.


That was Thursday.

Making a Home

We ran away again this weekend.  The four five of us took off for Wisconsin to meet up with friends of ours since high school (the women) and college (all of us).  I was a bit apprehensive to get together with these friends in my state of mind.  I knew the house deal was going south fast.  It is never really a good idea to go to a social event with a spouse to whom you have MUCH to say but nothing that is fit for polite company.

My real hesitation is that this particular family is so ideal.  Their life is so what I long for.  in some ways.  I admire their choices.  I admire their contentment and the joy they get from the simple things in life.  She always seems at peace...with herself, her choices, her marriage.  I am nearly always the opposite.  Where I love drama she loves realty.  She also takes very good care of herself.  She finds enjoyment in exercise and is renewed by solitude.  In many ways we have very little in common, but we are friends.  Best of friends, and she has been a rock in my adult life.

But she is also someone I can't hide from.  Not that I hide much or fake much, but most people in my day to day life have only known me for a few years.  My friend has seen me through many more stages.  I imagine she had hopes and ideas about how my life may turn out.  I have not lived up to either of our standards in many arenas.

Standing in a zero depth pool in my new spandex based swimsuit proved that to be true.  There was no hiding.  No hiding what I have been up to and what I have given up on.

But while some areas of my life are in need of some work, other areas have matured.  Like the fact I made peace with my spandex suit and had fun in the pool with my friends and kids.  I also worked hard to not be Negative Nellie about my life Here.  I spoke about my job and activities with a positive tone.  I tried to be the person I hope to be.  I wasn't always faking it, either.

As we drove away I was dreading the usual sadness that comes as I turn away from the life I had hoped to live.  This time it wasn't so bad.  When I arrived in our driveway, I was thankful for a fun weekend with dear friends and thankful for this place I call home.

And just to say, "Welcome back" this Town did something it never does...it was NICE to me.  I went to a local appliance store in search of buying some touch up paint for our stove. (there is a small chip that looks bad as one is trying to sell said stove)  The clerk seemed to know of a secret stash and went around the store looking for it and then asking his supervisor if it would be ok to give it to me.  Online the paint is $15.  When I asked how much it was at the store, he said it was free.  WHAT?!  People are NEVER this nice here.  Simple acts of kindness like that NEVER happen...or at least it FEELS like they NEVER happen.  They charge you for everything Here.

I left the store hopeful that I might be able to create a home Here...at least, more hopeful than I had been before I ran away.

Adding One

I've got another blog for you...The Hollywood Housewife   I do not remember how I first found her blog; I was up too late, I'm sure.  I check her blog each and every day.  I find her life fascinating and utterly different than mine, yet remarkably similar.  Much of her life is made up of events and occurrences that I will never experience, but she presents it in a down to earth way.  Her Oklahoma roots shine through as she introduces herself without any pretense or grandeur.  I also appreciate that she writes (really well) daily...I appreciate and admire the effort this takes.  Check out her blog when you get a chance.

Cold Feet

I imagine doubt is a part of everyone's life.  For us, for my husband, doubt is the broken record...a soundtrack we never intended to play.  Doubt is often the third member of our marriage.  It wanders around trying to find a chink in ones armor.  Pressing and pressing until it breaks in.  Then, it just keeps on.  Doubt.  Second guessing.  Creating scenario after scenario about how this won't work.  Or that will happen if...

We've got some road noise weighing on our house hunting minds.  How loud is too loud?  Can we sell this house?  Does this noise bother us more than, X, Y or Z criteria? 

I think, I THINK, we are moving forward.  It is less fun though.  Or rather, we are focusing on less fun parts of the new house. 

But, don't all brides feel this way when they get engaged?  (for the record I never did.) And, yes, I carried this metaphor all the way over to this entry.  I promised I would stop, didn't I?

Colors of Sleep Deprivation

Even though I wrote to say I was going to bed...I didn't.  I started to dream and virtual shop.  My favorite fabric and color designer is apparently going out of business.  Check out the Susan Sargent link on the left boxes...rugs and pillow go on sale soon. 

I'm taking this a bit personally.  I mean, really, doesn't she know I have bedrooms to make curtains for?

And then we had two...

homes, that is.

If you have stuck with me through this house hunting phase, you deserve to learn a little about our new home.  But not tonight.  I have been up past midnight for three nights in a row.  I must go to bed.  Thanks for all your support and interest.

Slap on some paint

I have spent the last two days cleaning and touch up painting our house.  Once I start looking for chipped paint, worn moldings or finger prints, I can't stop.  They seem to multiple before my eyes.  We had most of the house painted a year ago so it only needs touch ups here and there.  There are light fixtures and high ceiling corners I may have never cleaned in six years.  Many trucks and grocery carts have run around the corners.

After about an hour of walking around with a paint can and brush, I had to tell myself to "let it go."  This is the house.  This is how it looks.  All the paint or cleaning in the world isn't going to make it into the house of someone else's dream.  If they like it, they like it.  My cleaning the carpet over and over wasn't going to turn it into a four bedroom home.  Covering up each and every chipped molding wasn't going to add a den or granite counter tops.  The house is what it is.

The same can be said for the people who live in the house.  We can try to cover and clean and hide our faults and foibles.  It won't work.  Slapping on some paint in hopes of tricking others into liking us won't work unless God has a chance to sand our soul a bit.  Like my house, we can't be all things to all people.  No amount of scrubbing or touch ups will make us better than what God created us to be. By fessing up to this and allowing ourselves to be who we are, the Holy Spirit has room to work.  By God's grace we awake each day more closely resembling ourselves as seen through God's eyes.

We had our first showing today.  As I left the house after two days of loving care, it looked like the best version of itself.  Bright, comfortable, cozy and well loved.  I hope someone falls in love soon.

Ah, I needed that

As suspected, the House of My Dreams, did not find our offer to be satisfactory.  In hindsight we probably gave up to early in the negotiations, but future (unknown) utility bills danced in my head.  (We are also not game players the back and forth and waiting wasn't fun to us...just tedious and silly.)  I wish it well, and like all relationships you learn something along the way.  It will not have been in vain--our short run at a life together.

When you are mid-breakup (and I will stop this metaphor very soon, I promise) it is always good to just change scenery.  I suggest running away.

We choose a brother and sister in law's home a half days drive away.  The fact they have a beautiful, new, custom build home wasn't a huge help to our mood, but their wonderful company and a gaggle of adorable nephews and a niece made it all worthwhile.  The starbucks coffee, steak kabobs and ice cream the hosts provided me, helped too.  Our sons are fast friends.  At just three and four they have shared a tight bond over their short lives--only seeing each other a few times a year.  I love working to strengthen and nurture our family ties.

We hope to see a new house tomorrow.  I have dubbed it House Number 4,562.  On paper and in photos it has possibilities...and dubious qualities I wait to see in person.  The price is right, so we'll start there.

Shall We Get Married?

It is a lot like dating.  House hunting.  We've been through at least ten homes over the course of the year.  I have personally driven by at least *two hundred* in the last two years.  Some we were serious about, some were just the cute boy who asked to have coffee.  "Ah, what the heck?  Why not?"  At times we were really in the mood to find "the one."  Other days we just didn't really care.  Life was just fine as it was.  We liked ourselves and our lives as it was.

Recently, we started to date a few places with a hint towards exclusivity.  Returning again and again to see what depth and possibility we could mine.  In more than one instance we had to look beyond appearances.  Sometimes there was nothing lasting beneath the shiny sinks.  Some of them didn't even shower for our second 'date.'

In the end, we are dating two or three of them.  And like possible spouses, none of them are perfect.  Each has its unique quirks.  Can we live with small bathrooms, more than a small back yard?  How old is it again?  Ohhh, but we really like its neighborhood.  How about this school verses that one?  Is the road noise more important than a nice floor plan?  And then, is that one really worth the cost?  Can we give away that much of ourselves?

We picked one yesterday.  We are waiting to see if it likes us back.  (It doesn't look promising.)

Feeling Today

A number of years ago I was washing dishes with a relative.  It was a year or so after her father had died.  While he died at a old age and had lived a full life, the final years had been a struggle for him and his children.  She had been his primary caretaker.  She was his daughter.  As we washed plates and glasses from a holiday meal, I asked how she was doing; this holiday, a year later.  In a week or two it would be his birthday.  I wondered, out loud, what the year had felt like without her father.  I meant to acknowledge the day, to honor him, to give her a moment to share her feelings.

She smiled an indecipherable smile at me.  I know she said something about her dad--a brief acknowledgment.  I remember that she said, "I just try to think of the positive."  Then it was done.  She dried a plate.  Set it down.  And asked me for the glass I was washing so that she could dry it.  The topic moved on.

I remember mentally noting that she said, "think" where I had asked about "feelings."  Our languages didn't match up.

Some days I wish I didn't feel birthdays and anniversaries and the date my loved one died.  Some days, I wish my primary language wasn't "feelings."

But it is.

Today is Carole's birthday.  She would have been 64.  Though, she wouldn't have celebrated it today.  Aging was something she lived in denial of...believing that by pure strength and positive thought (plus a lot of aerobics and some other potions and creams) she could over come it.

That wasn't the way it went.

Try as she might, keeping her cards hidden until July when her pool was open and the sun was hot, didn't put off aging...nor did it keep us from celebrating her birth.  Which was the real point.  That she lived.

Through all the emotions I have today, I am giving thanks for that.  She lived.

Running Around, Crazy.

A stainless steel stove there, a granite sink here.  Pink carpet, flocked wall paper.  Children's pencil drawings on the wall, a mounted deer head in the family "bar" area. 

The qualities and defining moments of each home we have been in, change.  They are as unique as the families that have occupied the homes.  There is one constant on our home search.

The air quality.

Apparently, each home has very poor air.  Or, perhaps they are pumping something into the air.  Whatever it is, it has a disastrous effect on my children.  Each and every house we have seen--outside of the very first one, where we had the element of the "unknown" on our side--they have behave poorly.  Well below par.

I blame it on air quality but really what they are breathing is probably more a mixture of parental anxiety and fear, all the while trying to be polite as we get to know our real estate agent.  Throw in the fact I rarely raise my voice with them in public (and see, "wanting to be polite" above) and that we go usually tour homes on the weekend, which is securely "Daddy Play Time" in the kids' minds, and it is a awful combo.

This past weekend, BB took to pulling out one of his favorite new phrases.  It is from the Wiggles.  "Something strange is going on around here..."  He says it with the comedic timing that only a boy of four or five can master. And, the first five times I wanted to laugh with him as he went from room to room muttering this phrase cracking himself up each time.  It is so funny to watch little boys develop their shtick.  But I couldn't laugh because his sister was spinning.  She spins and then takes great joy in falling down...alot of joy.  She also has taken to shrieking.  And, her mantra has become, "I do it myself."  Emphasis on 'myself.'  Then add the running.  Empty houses with multiple rooms are a huge novelty...so the temptation to run from room to room is great.  Jokes.  Spinning.  Shrieking. Running.  House hunting.

My husband and I both had alcohol with dinner on Saturday and Sunday

It is no wonder we haven't settled on what to do after this weekend's whirlwind tour.  The air quality was just so poor.

Above Average Housing

I first began to think about housing and housing/neighborhood development during college.  I spent two spring breaks on Habitat for Humanity service trips to Southern towns.  As these types of trips are meant to do, each was eye opening.  It isn't just verbiage when I say that they also changed my life.

I met people I admired.  They were inspiring and dedicated and passionate.  All qualities I hoped to be someday.  They shaped my ambiguous dreams into a plan...a blueprint, you might say, for the next two years of my life.

After typing that, now two years seems like such a short time frame.  I blink these days and two years have gone by.  But in my twenties, I faced plentiful and steep learning curves.  It was a time where I was so mailable that each daily experience left a large imprint on who I am.  Time moved slowly.  Sometimes painfully so.

After college I moved to Americus, GA to be an extended volunteer with Habitat for Humanity International.  I would spend most of my time in Georgia, with a three month stop over in West Virginia to host Spring Break trips at an affiliate there.  It should be noted that I never spent much time on a work site.  I was the organizer, the spokesperson, the cheerleader, the spiritual voice, and the logistics officer.  Back in Georgia I worked in Media Relations, writing and promoting the various nationwide build events.  I recited these facts and figures multiple times a day to reporters.  The repetition wore a grove in my soul.  Repetition, combined with my hands-on experiences and daily conversations with people who live in substandard housing around Americus, fueled a passion for housing that stays with me.

So, now I am looking for my own house.  Actually, it will be our third house (fourth, if you count a student apartment) as a couple.  The one we currently live in is the only one we've owned; (my husband is quick to point out we don't *actually* own this one either, the bank does...pish, posh I say.) our first home was a parsonage owned by the congregation.

When we moved into our current home we jokingly said it reminded us of a Habitat home.  Translation, it is a basic, usable home, without any of the bells and whistles of so many new builds today.  The rooms are adequate, but small.  It is enough.

But of course, we want more.

 

Now 14 years after my work at HFHI, I am faced with the mix of suburban peer pressure, basic common sense for our family, my desire not to disappoint my former colleagues and my own wish to be true to myself.  On my list of what I want in my next house, along side the many "wishes," I list "doesn't make me feel like a hypocrite."

I would much rather reuse an old house, than buy one of the brand new vinyl beige Mc-homes that are popping up around us.  I would rather live in an established neighborhood than on land I remember as a corn field just a year ago.  I don't want to buy more than we need.  I want to fight the urge to have shiny counter tops and appliances that are exactly like everyone else.

But I also want spaces free of kids toys, a bedroom for my daughter, a public school system that doesn't makes me consider private school, and mature trees.  I'd be lying if I didn't also list: a larger bathroom, a kitchen island, storage closets, lots of windows and wood floors.

As I write on Sunday afternoon, my husband is loading the kids in to the car to go look at a brand spanking new home.

I'll report back on whether it has everything on my list.

Republic of Congo

 Guatamala

Papua New Guinea
Photos are from the HFHI website and one from Coldwell Banker

Interrupting my house hunting series to post a link to a beautiful entry--promising God's love.  It is from Meta's blog, Tangled up in Grace.

Hunting for a House

My husband and I have accepted reality.  For now.  This.  Is where we live.  It is, and we might as well make peace with that fact.  There are many reasons this community doesn't fit, and if I focus on them, they start to multiply.  But there are a lot of things this community offers us, and when I focus on all of them, I am thankful.

We are going to focus on 'thankful' for the time being.

For the past two years EG has shared a room with us.  She has been a great roommate.  Quiet, respectful, able to sleep with the lights on or off; she is even able to sleep through quiet conversation or the blare of the morning alarms.  Sure, her decorating isn't quite my style--I'm not in favor of red crayon scribbled on green walls--but she's held up her end of the roommate pact like the trooper she is.  Like any good roommate, there is always the pull to "grow up and move on."  It is time to do just that.

I'm going to spread out my thoughts on this house hunt for a few posts.  Read along as you are so interested.

What are we fighting?

I'm not a car person.  In fact any conversation over cars--car parts, car brands, new models--bores me to tears. And, if the conversation turns too pretentious, I will internally begin to cry. (Along with the fact that the person gets a black check by their name...we've covered the fact I am a bit judgmental in earlier posts.)  Even though car brands are a regional distinction--the current state I live in is BMW central, while my home state goes for a more understated Tundra Explorer Escalade.  Did I get that right?

Cars are a practical thing to me.  They get us where we are going.  They should do their best not to destroy the environment.  They should only be as big as we need them to be.  I don't derive any ego from the car I drive.  (although, I did love my one more high end performance car...it was super fun to drive, even as a station wagon.)

It is a good thing I feel this way because, I drive a minivan.  I grew up cruising around in a minivan.  I dented my first fender in my parent's minivan (and the garage, and the mirror, and someone else's fender...it was a long learning curve.)  I do not fear the minivan.

But apparently, many do.  Both of my husband's sister in laws have vowed never to drive one.  A friend on facebook recently braced her friends for the fact she was now driving one.  This was met with a long list of people wondering what had happened to her and calls for help to straighten her out.

I read once (or heard on the news) from a "car expert" that the minivan is best designed car insofar as it does what is was created to do, perfectly.  What's not to love with that description?

What's with the fear?  Is a minivan just the final push over the parenting cliff we all fear?  As we stand there in comfortable shoes, mucus and spit covered t-shirts, with a crying or wining or arguing child clinging to us; do we really think it is our practical car that signals "Not the Cool One" to the world.

Fear not, my friends.  It is only a car.

He is Risen! He is Risen, Indeed!!

I practiced this basic piece of the Easter liturgy with the kids all Sunday morning.  EG had it down.  Too, too cute to hear a two year old shout back, "He is Risen, Indeed!"  And, then...her 'Alleluia,' it is heaven itself to listen to.**

We had a fantastic Easter with family.  At one point during the afternoon on Sunday I was so overwhelmed by the joy in my backyard.  New life was sprouting up in every direction. 
It was also one of those moments that are achingly sad for someone who lives a 12 hour car ride from family...
"This is how every weekend could be,"  I think wistfully to myself.  But life is full of these momentary glimpses of "love," "grace," "joy," and the Kingdom to Come.  I am so thankful for this Easter.  Blessings to each of you who were there to share in it.  We love you.
Some photos of the prep and festivities.

** Now, she didn't actually get to say it during worship because I thought the 9am service started at 9:30am.  oops.  I got to practice offering myself grace right away on Easter morning. 

(Maundy) Thursday Theology

It actually started last night.  In the shower was an African American Baptist choir singing  and stomping their feet along to a song that has these lyrics:  "They rolled the stone away.  They rooooolled it away.  (over and over) Jesus is aaaaalive. (over and over)."  The smell of sickening sweet fruit soap mixing with the steam, made me realize that "no", we hadn't left the doors open to a choir, but rather BB was on a roll in his nightly shower.

Today, in the car he began to speculate about that stone.  "Mom, how many people do you think it took to move it in front of Jesus' tomb?  six or eight?"
"sure."
"Maybe two...three...four...five... or eight gajillion quadiridian.  Do you think it was that many?"
"What do you think?"
"I don't know that God did it."
"Say more...did what?"
"Mom.  You know when those bad guys came and put Jesus in the tomb all dead...I don't know if God moved the stone."
"Humm.."  (traffic got heavy for a moment.)
"Why do you think those bad guys killed Jesus?  They were bad.  (he is angry sounding now.)."
"BB, I don't know if they were bad guys...I think they were afraid. I think they didn't want to do the things Jesus was asking them to do...like love people, and give up power...not get to be in charge.  I think they were afraid."
"Mom.  If God is big enough to move that stone away...ya remember, the one eight gajillion quadiridian people moved into place...can't God hold the whole world in his hands?  Or maybe the two of them...God and Jesus, they can hold the whole world in their hands."

(by this time we had arrived at our destination...)
"Yes, BB God is big enough to move the stone away and hold the whole world."
A bit of a pause and I figure the conversation is going in a whole new directions.  Nope.

"How did they kill Jesus?"
"Oh, (sigh) BB.  That is a really sad part of the story....do you really want to hear it?"
"oh.  no, I guess not today."

He looks sad and serious.  Thinking for a while.

The car is stopped, and I am out of it standing in the parking lot by BB's carseat.  I run my hands through his hair and kiss his cheeks.  This dear boy.  This dear, dear boy who I hope remembers his shower performance and learns to go through life in celebration....verses lament.  While the full story is important for all of us to hear and remember...some of us are prone to go through life forgetting the joy Good Friday was meant to bring us.

Blessings.