Friday, June 24, 2011
Saturday, June 18, 2011
It's a big job.
Bending over to reach the floor is becoming increasing a) painful b) impossible c) unwise--lest I just fall head over heals to the ground thanks to my odd center of gravity. This is not good for our general house clean up. We went from nearly perfect clean up every day (for showings) to disaster zone status in just a week's time. I am ready to string Caution tape around the whole living room.
I have two perfectly healthy children who are capable of picking up. They don't. Either because they don't want to or they apparently don't hear me.
But something had to be done last week so I made it my project to get them working. Delegation is always harder than just doing it yourself. I spent much of the day handing out small detailed pick up projects to each child. Before they could enter another Land of Make-Believe, they had to leave the previous Land clean and put away.
At bedtime my husband was getting the kids ready for bed and was continuing the clean up process for the night. Dad was carrying clothes from the bathroom (BB's) to the laundry hamper in BB's room. Then he was picking up some Legos left in the hallway.
Then as he went to pick up the remote control car, he said, "BB, this is your stuff, why am I picking it up?"
BB--"I didn't put it there. My sister did." (Which I might as well stamp on his forehead right now.)
Dad--"Well, I seem to be the one picking it up..." muttered a bit under his breath as he finished up.
The kids were both naked. Hopping and slipping from the bathroom to the hallway. (I was reading email at the computer.) Then they were giggling and running between their rooms--doing everything to not be focused on picking their pjs and books for bed.
From BB's room we hear BB call back to my husband, with a voice full of five year old wisdom and a little lilt of emerging humor--"Being a dad's a big job, Dad. It's a biiiig job."
My husband and I caught each others eye as my he plopped another handful of Legos in the box, and busted up laughing.
"Yes, it is. Yes, it is." he called back to BB.
I have two perfectly healthy children who are capable of picking up. They don't. Either because they don't want to or they apparently don't hear me.
But something had to be done last week so I made it my project to get them working. Delegation is always harder than just doing it yourself. I spent much of the day handing out small detailed pick up projects to each child. Before they could enter another Land of Make-Believe, they had to leave the previous Land clean and put away.
At bedtime my husband was getting the kids ready for bed and was continuing the clean up process for the night. Dad was carrying clothes from the bathroom (BB's) to the laundry hamper in BB's room. Then he was picking up some Legos left in the hallway.
Then as he went to pick up the remote control car, he said, "BB, this is your stuff, why am I picking it up?"
BB--"I didn't put it there. My sister did." (Which I might as well stamp on his forehead right now.)
Dad--"Well, I seem to be the one picking it up..." muttered a bit under his breath as he finished up.
The kids were both naked. Hopping and slipping from the bathroom to the hallway. (I was reading email at the computer.) Then they were giggling and running between their rooms--doing everything to not be focused on picking their pjs and books for bed.
From BB's room we hear BB call back to my husband, with a voice full of five year old wisdom and a little lilt of emerging humor--"Being a dad's a big job, Dad. It's a biiiig job."
My husband and I caught each others eye as my he plopped another handful of Legos in the box, and busted up laughing.
"Yes, it is. Yes, it is." he called back to BB.
Thursday, June 09, 2011
Holy Vacation
We celebrated Easter this year on the beach--the South Carolina coast. It was a multi-family reunion, a few years in the planning. We shared a large house on the beach. The organization and planning was done mostly via email and facebook. It was a week that started (for a small few) with a sunrise Easter service on the beach, for a few others by racing to worship at the local Lutheran congregation and for others by sinking their toes into the damp sand. We had an egg hunt on the beach and ham for dinner.
The rest of the week is a blur of sand castles, wave jumping, beach games, and cooking/eating. The weather was warm but not oppressive. An ocean stretching out before you is humbling and powerful. And there is nothing more calming than the sound of the ocean waves.
When we returned people asked again and again..."Did you have a good vacation?" Most of them meant it as passing, idle chit chat. Me being me, can't do idle chit chat well. Every time I smiled and said, "Good. We had fun." I took note of the slight hesitation in my answer.
It was good. It was fun. I wouldn't describe it as a vacation.
It was time away from the daily routine and there is a regenerative property in that. When I'm not engaged in chit chat over coffee, I describe the time differently. I say it was 'holy.'
The week brought together my Dad and one of his two brothers. My siblings were there with spouses and children. My four cousins were there along with their families and 'significant others.' Our cousins grew up, and live, in the South. We grew up, and, for the most part, have lived our lives in the North. Together, we have a handful of common memories. But we share one story.
It is the retelling of that story that made the time 'holy.' Every family has a story--of where they came from, what their grandparents and great, great, great grandparents' lives were like. Some families care more about genealogy than others. Some families share the story so often they seem to be living in the past. Others are content to live firmly in the present. All of us alter the story along the way. For some there are real scars or chapters in the story best left untold. I know families that embellish the story making every person or moment grander, more impressive than it could have been. And, with today's technology and ability to simply 'delete' a photo or video, I often wonder if we are leaving out parts of our own stories...maybe it is only the bad hair days.
Like most people, my siblings and cousins love to hear stories about ourselves. We delight in watching old home videos of the earlier reunions. First of all it is just good old narcissistic fun to see how cute you were as a kid....or how delightful your cousins were...or how much the house has changed. But we are now old enough to take note of the passing of time as well. Some of us are nearing the age our parents are in the videos. We mirror the life stage and we take note of who they were and who we are at a similar point in life. Seeing ourselves as kids--when we still often feel like one--places our own mortality before us. Reminds us to be grateful and to savor the passing days.
We also watched videos of complied photos from our Grandparents lives. Theirs is a story, hallmarked by my Grandmothers strength, determination, and her dedicated love to her sons. My Grandfather died at a young age, leaving behind my Dad and a wife pregnant with twin boys. It is a story that could easily be retold a number of ways--tragic, romantic, incomparable... Probably depending on who is retelling it, I have heard it shared a variety of ways over time. Each variation adds a layer to the story that weaves in to my own story. Some of who I am is actual genetic DNA from these people, some is the result of a shared purpose, familial code--the story shared from generation to generation.
Story sharing, in all its forms, is holy. It is what we humans do best, tell a story in such a way as to create a common bond, purpose and direction. It is how we tell another human who we are and where we come from. I'm a story teller by professional training, and with nearly every fiber of my being. Storytelling is essentially the way God's children have remained connected for thousands of years. It is the primary purpose of our congregations, today. It is how we create meaning and purpose. By retelling our past, we create a future.
It is what I want to know about you...not the idle chit chat but the actual story that brought you to this point in time. If I know that, then I am more comfortable hearing the minutia of your day. What I often need to be reminded of is, that it is the seemingly unimportant details that create the larger story that will be told about us decades from now.
This is what I thought about as I sat on the deck watching my siblings, cousins, and my own small family playing on the beach. I listened to my parents talk with my aunt and uncle--some of it idle chit chat, some, in more hushed tones, was deeper in content. I am sure they looked out at their kids playing on beach with a certain amount of relief, pride and thankfulness--they are the parents who know the actual stories beyond the snap shot that others might see of people playing on a beach--taking a moment to be grateful to have raised them/us to this point. "The boys," my Dad and Uncle, joked about people from their past, adventures they shared as kids, memories of my Grandma....
All of the noise, laughter and unsaid words mingled together like incense floating up to God. Permeating our hair and our clothes. Sneaking into our luggage. Coming home with us again. We breathed it in and added it to our ever growing story.
Moments like this are holy.
Wednesday, June 08, 2011
Balance
It has been said before,**elsewhere and in better ways, but I so respect and admire Meredith's career path. A woman of such talent, poise, humor and ability, who has shown a generation of women (albeit on a very grand scale) what balancing a family and a career can look like. That a career path doesn't have to have one trajectory. That it is painful to leave one "family" for the other. That parts of you from each role you fill, come with you in to the next one. It isn't done without sacrifice or tears or thoughtful consideration, but it can be done and done well...but mostly done in your own authentic way.
I was a crying mess over breakfast today as I watched this. Of course, I'm hormonal. Plus, whenever anyone cries...I cry. And, I love a grand gesture...so these tribute shows always get me.
** Elsewhere...here, here, here
Tuesday, June 07, 2011
Update
Went on vacation.
Came home.
Showed house.
No one bought it.
May 31st, took house off market.
Process of rearranging house so we can live in it. EG now has a bedroom. We are getting ready to make BB's room "fancy."
Five weeks until The Baby arrives. We hope to be ready...
That's the update. I am hoping to have more posts, especially as the summer heat begins to sizzle and need to stay inside more often.
Came home.
Showed house.
No one bought it.
May 31st, took house off market.
Process of rearranging house so we can live in it. EG now has a bedroom. We are getting ready to make BB's room "fancy."
Five weeks until The Baby arrives. We hope to be ready...
That's the update. I am hoping to have more posts, especially as the summer heat begins to sizzle and need to stay inside more often.
Monday, April 11, 2011
That's the Signal.
I have been bothering BB all day long.
1. I can't seem to arrange a play-date with his friend. (we have one set up, but I haven't told him about it yet.)
2. He only got to watch one tv program today.
3. I made him share his remote controlled car with EG.
4. He had to eat dinner. (and come inside to do so.)
Now dinner is over, and I was checking my email in the office. Just a few hours ago he gave me a lovely speech on how he had gotten too much fresh air today and it was making his head hurt. (he wanted to watch more tv.) Now he has come in to whine and pester me into submission so that he can have *more* fresh air. (new friends are outside now.)
As he was hovering near my left shoulder, he let off a little gas. I leaned over and told him that perhaps he should head to the bathroom.
"Oh, no Mom. That is just a little gas. It is a warning that I need some fresh air...that you should let me go outside, is what that means. What it means, MOM, I don't need to go to the bathroom, because that will be the last one of the night...(he is cracking himself up by now--smiling and coming really near to my face to kiss me) that is just the signal that I need to get more fresh air."
Indeed. More fresh air.
1. I can't seem to arrange a play-date with his friend. (we have one set up, but I haven't told him about it yet.)
2. He only got to watch one tv program today.
3. I made him share his remote controlled car with EG.
4. He had to eat dinner. (and come inside to do so.)
Now dinner is over, and I was checking my email in the office. Just a few hours ago he gave me a lovely speech on how he had gotten too much fresh air today and it was making his head hurt. (he wanted to watch more tv.) Now he has come in to whine and pester me into submission so that he can have *more* fresh air. (new friends are outside now.)
As he was hovering near my left shoulder, he let off a little gas. I leaned over and told him that perhaps he should head to the bathroom.
"Oh, no Mom. That is just a little gas. It is a warning that I need some fresh air...that you should let me go outside, is what that means. What it means, MOM, I don't need to go to the bathroom, because that will be the last one of the night...(he is cracking himself up by now--smiling and coming really near to my face to kiss me) that is just the signal that I need to get more fresh air."
Indeed. More fresh air.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Falling Close to the Tree
The scene begins as a mother says to her three year old daughter and five year old son. "I'm working in the kitchen right now so you have to play in our yard." (not play with the neighbors in their yard.) An hour passes and each of them ask a few more times, just in case the mom has changed her mind or forgotten their request. Finally, the five year old settles into realty. He's not playing in his friend's yard today. The three year old has another game plan.
After standing in the kitchen doorway crying for a bit, she decides to change shoes. On her way back through the kitchen, "Mom, I changed my shoes now can I go in Simon's yard."
"No, EG."
She stands in the the doorway and begins to cry again. Then suddenly shuts off the tears and looks at her mom.
"Mom, I'm stubborn." Stomps her foot and sets her face to stone.
"Yes, you are." her mom is internally smiling. "Do you know what stubborn means?"
EG ponders for a moment. Quietly she says, "No."
"Maybe you shouldn't use words when you don't know what they mean." A pointless remark.
There is a long pause. EG relaxes a bit. Her face and voice soften.
"Mom, what does stubborn mean?"
The mom finishes washing some pots and pans from last night's lasagna.
"Stubborn means that you don't change your mind very easily. It isn't always a good thing. But you know who else is stubborn?"
"Birds?" she asks.
"Well, maybe, but I was thinking of your dad, your brother and me. Sometimes it is a good thing, sometimes it isn't. Did you notice that BB is playing and you are standing in the doorway crying? Who's having more fun?"
She looks outside.
The mom gets out the dishwasher soap and fills up the soap cups. Closes the door and turns to start dinner.
A few minutes pass. With a mixture of defiance and resignation, "I'm having fun, Mom."
"hummm...Well, EG, my answer isn't going to change."
"Cause you're stubborn, too? (quick pause) Did I use stubborn correcdidly, Mom?"
After standing in the kitchen doorway crying for a bit, she decides to change shoes. On her way back through the kitchen, "Mom, I changed my shoes now can I go in Simon's yard."
"No, EG."
She stands in the the doorway and begins to cry again. Then suddenly shuts off the tears and looks at her mom.
"Mom, I'm stubborn." Stomps her foot and sets her face to stone.
"Yes, you are." her mom is internally smiling. "Do you know what stubborn means?"
EG ponders for a moment. Quietly she says, "No."
"Maybe you shouldn't use words when you don't know what they mean." A pointless remark.
There is a long pause. EG relaxes a bit. Her face and voice soften.
"Mom, what does stubborn mean?"
The mom finishes washing some pots and pans from last night's lasagna.
"Stubborn means that you don't change your mind very easily. It isn't always a good thing. But you know who else is stubborn?"
"Birds?" she asks.
"Well, maybe, but I was thinking of your dad, your brother and me. Sometimes it is a good thing, sometimes it isn't. Did you notice that BB is playing and you are standing in the doorway crying? Who's having more fun?"
She looks outside.
The mom gets out the dishwasher soap and fills up the soap cups. Closes the door and turns to start dinner.
A few minutes pass. With a mixture of defiance and resignation, "I'm having fun, Mom."
"hummm...Well, EG, my answer isn't going to change."
"Cause you're stubborn, too? (quick pause) Did I use stubborn correcdidly, Mom?"
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Saturday
Our house has been for sale for 10 months. Did you just stop reading? Tired of this topic, are you? Everyone in our life is as well. I understand. We are doing our best to change the topic. But for today, the house is a prominent chapter in our life's story.
It started out as a fantastically unique Saturday. It was the first weekend in a long time that did not have anything planned for either of us. I have no weekend church projects for the next few weeks, so I was feeling relaxed. Friday kicked off the weekend when a friend was available and interested in watching our kids. We ate dinner at a restaurant in peace. Ahh. Of course by 9:30pm I was exhausted and ready for bed.
Which I got to sleep in until 8:00am on Saturday. Ahh. BB and I got up and leisurely made pancakes (one of my very favorite things to do and his favorite to eat.) EG and my husband slept a bit longer. We ate. The kids planned a Dinosaur Show. BB hung signs, encouraging the family to sign up to see his show. Once the kitchen was cleaned up we headed into BB's bedroom for the show.
We sat in peaceful bliss on the bedroom floor, enjoying a Saturday all together. The kids showed us their drawings of dinosaurs. Then EG brought out her dinosaur, named Laura. They had made a cage out snap blocks and placed a dinosaur family inside. We had to speak quietly and could not touch the dinosaurs. After many "mic" checks, BB and EG were ready to preform their dinosaur song up on BB's bed. At this point the phone rang.
My husband and I looked at each other knowing full well what the call at 10:30am meant.
Someone wanted to see our house at noon.
After we patiently listened to the song and even got to draw a picture of a dinosaur. We had to sign our names to them and hang them on the on wall. Then we regretfully shared the news that we had to call the real estate agency back.
All of a sudden our Saturday felt just like every other Saturday for the last few months. (we want to sell the house, so we know what we need to do...it was just so amazing to be still and hang out.)
Instead of leaving to do something, we decided to park on our street and wait for the showing to come and then leave. By 12: 30 lunch was now on our minds and our house takes about 15-20 mins max to look over. So, we sat in our cars on our street, outside our own house and chatted on our cells phones. At 1:00pm, our agent called to say the showing agent was running late. Could they see the house between 1:30 and 2:30?
I can't actually repeat what my husband said. It was funny. Especially, coming from mild mouthed him, but I didn't share it with the agents. I sighed and said, "Sure."
Our kids hate this. It has effected their moods in various ways. They feel as powerless as we do, perhaps even more so, and their frustration manifests itself in a variety of ways. Screaming. Crying. Disobedience. Fighting with each other. Mouthing back to us. My children's mental health was never one of the things I would have listed when I thought of potential house selling issues.
We headed to lunch..out. (which I love.) Then home again.
Now we wait...
We did reclaim the weekend. I took a nap. My husband took his monthly trip to Goodwill. The kids watched some tv, played outside and colored some more pictures. Right now as I type, they are all at the park flying a kite.
I am watching House Hunters, waiting for the pages of this chapter in our lives to turn.
It started out as a fantastically unique Saturday. It was the first weekend in a long time that did not have anything planned for either of us. I have no weekend church projects for the next few weeks, so I was feeling relaxed. Friday kicked off the weekend when a friend was available and interested in watching our kids. We ate dinner at a restaurant in peace. Ahh. Of course by 9:30pm I was exhausted and ready for bed.
Which I got to sleep in until 8:00am on Saturday. Ahh. BB and I got up and leisurely made pancakes (one of my very favorite things to do and his favorite to eat.) EG and my husband slept a bit longer. We ate. The kids planned a Dinosaur Show. BB hung signs, encouraging the family to sign up to see his show. Once the kitchen was cleaned up we headed into BB's bedroom for the show.
We sat in peaceful bliss on the bedroom floor, enjoying a Saturday all together. The kids showed us their drawings of dinosaurs. Then EG brought out her dinosaur, named Laura. They had made a cage out snap blocks and placed a dinosaur family inside. We had to speak quietly and could not touch the dinosaurs. After many "mic" checks, BB and EG were ready to preform their dinosaur song up on BB's bed. At this point the phone rang.
My husband and I looked at each other knowing full well what the call at 10:30am meant.
Someone wanted to see our house at noon.
After we patiently listened to the song and even got to draw a picture of a dinosaur. We had to sign our names to them and hang them on the on wall. Then we regretfully shared the news that we had to call the real estate agency back.
All of a sudden our Saturday felt just like every other Saturday for the last few months. (we want to sell the house, so we know what we need to do...it was just so amazing to be still and hang out.)
Instead of leaving to do something, we decided to park on our street and wait for the showing to come and then leave. By 12: 30 lunch was now on our minds and our house takes about 15-20 mins max to look over. So, we sat in our cars on our street, outside our own house and chatted on our cells phones. At 1:00pm, our agent called to say the showing agent was running late. Could they see the house between 1:30 and 2:30?
I can't actually repeat what my husband said. It was funny. Especially, coming from mild mouthed him, but I didn't share it with the agents. I sighed and said, "Sure."
Our kids hate this. It has effected their moods in various ways. They feel as powerless as we do, perhaps even more so, and their frustration manifests itself in a variety of ways. Screaming. Crying. Disobedience. Fighting with each other. Mouthing back to us. My children's mental health was never one of the things I would have listed when I thought of potential house selling issues.
We headed to lunch..out. (which I love.) Then home again.
Now we wait...
We did reclaim the weekend. I took a nap. My husband took his monthly trip to Goodwill. The kids watched some tv, played outside and colored some more pictures. Right now as I type, they are all at the park flying a kite.
I am watching House Hunters, waiting for the pages of this chapter in our lives to turn.
Friday, March 25, 2011
New Voice
Part of the reason I love to read blogs is that I am introduced to people I would love to personally know. I will probably never get to meet them, or share a cup of coffee, but I am happier just to know they are 'out there.'
A friend of mine needed to have a book by the title of Will Jesus Buy Me a Double Wide? (because I need more room for my plasma tv.) You can see why she needed to have this book. Just knowing a book with this title is 'out there' made us happy. Turns out the author, Karen Spears Zacharias, has a blog as well.
Her posts titled: Notes on Japan and What is he waiting around for? made my day. You'll have to scroll down a bit, because she writes everyday. (unlike others we know.)
A friend of mine needed to have a book by the title of Will Jesus Buy Me a Double Wide? (because I need more room for my plasma tv.) You can see why she needed to have this book. Just knowing a book with this title is 'out there' made us happy. Turns out the author, Karen Spears Zacharias, has a blog as well.
Her posts titled: Notes on Japan and What is he waiting around for? made my day. You'll have to scroll down a bit, because she writes everyday. (unlike others we know.)
Monday, March 21, 2011
I'm Pregnant.
There. I said it.
When you write about your daily life, but haven't actually wanted to deal with your daily life, your blog suffers.
Sorry about that.
When you write about your daily life, but haven't actually wanted to deal with your daily life, your blog suffers.
Sorry about that.
Monday, March 07, 2011
Working with what you've got
I have two full boxes of summer clothes in the basement. One box of clothes that are lovingly thought of as 'Memorabilia'. The dress I wore to my 8th grade Confirmation. A pair of shorts from college that received favorable reviews. A few tops that are too cute to give up, but would require major cosmetic surgery to get me back into. These boxes sit in the basement.
Upstairs my closet was overflowing with sweaters and pants. Many suits that I haven't worn in years. Clothes that belonged to my Godmother. Size, after increasing, size. On the floor in front of my closet was a pile of the clothes that did fit. Each day I would look over the beautiful items that I couldn't wear, and grab the few pieces that did fit from the overflow pile and stacks. It was tiring. A bit depressing. And a daily reminder of the ridiculous.
We had a house showing yesterday (so that answers your question of whether the house is still for sale.) and I realized many parts of my life might benefit from cleaning up my closet. I took out all of the items that don't fit/can't wear/wrong season and packed them away.
I am left with this closet. (note all the fun colors.)
Wednesday, March 02, 2011
Racing to Three
EG doesn't turn three until Friday, but we got the party started early this week.
For more on how EG has celebrated her birthdays look here. I realize I didn't do as much for the festivities this year but I'm a bit tired. More on that to come...
For more on how EG has celebrated her birthdays look here. I realize I didn't do as much for the festivities this year but I'm a bit tired. More on that to come...
Thursday, February 03, 2011
Wednesday, January 05, 2011
It has come to this.
Thursday, December 02, 2010
Wednesday, December 01, 2010
Christmas Cards
I am sharing a post from Hollywood Housewife on Christmas Cards. I agree with nearly every one of her criteria. Although, I am sure both us aren't necessarily judging...just, um...commenting.
My plan for this year shouldn't be too difficult to pull off. I say that every year, don't I? You can see some of my past cards here and here.
By the way: Our house is still for sale. We have had four showings in three days. This is the way to do it: get my money out of the cleaning.
My plan for this year shouldn't be too difficult to pull off. I say that every year, don't I? You can see some of my past cards here and here.
By the way: Our house is still for sale. We have had four showings in three days. This is the way to do it: get my money out of the cleaning.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
What I Need to Live Up to...
If I have any complaint about BB's preschool it is this. Too. Many. Birthday Parties. While the parties don't compare to the likes of Hollywood celebrities or even the articles you read about life in The Big City. They are still more than I think a five year old needs. (or a three year old--she's getting invited, too.) I have no idea how parents are planning to top themselves each year.
For many reason we aren't having a party this year. I mean we ARE. It just won't look like the last four parties....no grandparents, no invitations (yet)...Instead, we are heading to A BIG CITY to hang out as a family at a museum and then look at the Christmas lights. On Thursday we'll let BB pick his meal. He'll bring a goodie bag to school for each classmate (because we can't bring food...) Sometime soon we are planning a special "play date" with three of his friends from school. I imagine there will be cake, an activity and it will feel a bit like a party to a five year old.
This week I need to figure out how many of last years traditions I want to recreate. I best get busy...
For many reason we aren't having a party this year. I mean we ARE. It just won't look like the last four parties....no grandparents, no invitations (yet)...Instead, we are heading to A BIG CITY to hang out as a family at a museum and then look at the Christmas lights. On Thursday we'll let BB pick his meal. He'll bring a goodie bag to school for each classmate (because we can't bring food...) Sometime soon we are planning a special "play date" with three of his friends from school. I imagine there will be cake, an activity and it will feel a bit like a party to a five year old.
This week I need to figure out how many of last years traditions I want to recreate. I best get busy...
Monday, November 29, 2010
What I've Been Up To...
For my new nephew. (it is in the mail and I am pretty sure my sister isn't checking in on my blog these days...)
Love this! I almost bought a pre-made pot, but am so pleased with how it turned out.
The decorating style of the nearly f-i-v-e year old!
Regretting this purchase. :)
Monday, November 22, 2010
The Strong One
Are you an oldest child? Are you the "strong one?" Neither are bad ways of being (or being perceived), but there are some challenges. My dear friend who writes at The Emmaus Road wrote a beautiful devotional piece on being strong and taking care of each other--it brought me to tears. So often I forget that the hallmarks of my faith tradition are vulnerability, weakness and God's ability to bring life out of our human frailty.
I can't do much about people's impression of me, but I can learn to cut myself some slack. I am strong. But I don't always have to be....God can work with me, either way.
I can't do much about people's impression of me, but I can learn to cut myself some slack. I am strong. But I don't always have to be....God can work with me, either way.
Friday, November 12, 2010
Third Date
Surely, the third visit is when you fall in love with a house, right?
Our house is still for sale.
But people are coming for the third look tomorrow. Keeping my hopes in check.
*Anyone have any insightful or interesting thoughts on John's Bread of Life idea? (John 6:25...) The service on Sunday isn't using the Lectionary texts.
Our house is still for sale.
But people are coming for the third look tomorrow. Keeping my hopes in check.
*Anyone have any insightful or interesting thoughts on John's Bread of Life idea? (John 6:25...) The service on Sunday isn't using the Lectionary texts.
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