A little of this and that...

I get by with a little help from my friends...

2012-01-23T11:54:00.000-06:00

Saturday was the longest run I've ever done in my life.

EIGHTEEN MILES. Count with me...1, 2, 3...It took me 3 1/2 hours to run (I'm slow, I know). But slow or not, I still did it. But it was a beating. My usual cheerleader, my hubby, was out of town. He's always so good at getting me out the door early Saturday mornings and reassuring me that yes, I CAN do this thing. Then when I come home, he has my post-run drink (Accelerade, not a margarita) and a hot jacuzzi bath ready for me to slide into. It's a treat!

It's also a comfort to know he's home and if I were to fall or hurt myself (which, yes, I've done), I can call him and he'll come find me. And it's also good to know that should I have a melt down over the mileage, he might come get me. (Not that I would have a melt down over running a gazillion miles...)

But since he was gone this weekend, I called on 3 girlfriends who live kind of spaced out along my running route. I asked them to be "on call" for me in case I did something stupid or decided I was doing something stupid by training for a marathon at my age. They all said, "Yes," so I felt better about running the distance I had to cover.

Well...they not only were my go-to girls, but they became my cheerleaders! One drove by (she's done this before and it's totally awesome) and yelled encouragement out her car window. She did this twice. Pretty awesome since I was starting to fade at the more than halfway mark. Then as I turned the corner to the local high school (4 miles left), I saw a parked minivan and a fabulous pink sign that said, "Go Lori!" It was just what I needed to finish my run!

So maybe I am not part of the community that I used to be a part of, but I have a community of some pretty amazing women friends who love me and encourage me. What more could I ask for?? Thanks Kris, Michelle and Ellen. Your love brings tears to my eyes as I type this blog. I feel so special and privileged to call you all "friends." You all refresh my soul.

"(S)he who refreshes others will (herself) himself be refreshed." Proverbs 11:25b

Why am I such a misfit?

2012-01-10T13:22:00.000-06:00

When one of my boys was young, we used to watch Sesame Street. There was a little ditty they sang that said, "One of these things is not like the other. One of these things just shouldn't belong." (Now you'll be singing that all day if you know which song I'm talking about!) It was kind of like "I Spy" finding the one item that didn't fit somehow into the scene. Of course with Sesame Street's audience, the misfit was always obvious.

I often have moments of feeling like a misfit. "One of these people is not like the other. One of these people just doesn't belong...."

I had that sense this morning.

I had a lovely breakfast with a good friend and enjoyed catching up with her. But in the meantime, a group of other women walked in to meet for breakfast. We spoke to them all, of course, but it reminded me that I didn't belong to that group of people any more. They all are part of the same church community that I was part of for so long and it still feels so painful to realize that I just don't fit with that group any more. Well, maybe I never did for all I realize.

The sadness welled up inside me thinking about how I'd once had such a vibrant ministry at the church and how much I missed teaching and leading other women in learning more about God and His love for them. I miss serving others and really don't have that outlet or opportunity any more. Maybe I never will again. Maybe I will again. I don't know.

I felt this way before when I had a job and I attended a Bible study and was the only one who worked. It felt odd and I felt like a misfit. While the other women lived the life I used to live during the summers (reading books, working in the yard, going to the pool with the kids), I was stuck in a small overly-air conditioned store working. Yes, I was grateful for the job, but it was painful to realize I could BE in the group, but I was still not really PART of the group.

I miss being a part of SOMEthing and truly feeling like I'm part of the group and not the thing that doesn't belong.

*Sigh*

What's new?

2012-01-05T16:13:00.001-06:00

I subscribe to a great online ezine that sends me weekly articles ("Weekly Refill" is what it's called). I LOVE these little articles and often repost them on Facebook so that my friends can enjoy them, too.

The most recent one I got was entitled, "What's new?" The author went on to talk about how much she hated this question and how many times she was asked this question due to the new year beginning.

How do you even begin to answer that question? Should you be honest and vulnerable and actually SHARE what's new? Or should you just say, "Oh nothing much. And you?" (Frankly, most of the time most people would rather tell you about themselves than hear about what's new with you anyway.)

But this reminded me of a recent discussion I was part of with a group of women that I really like. Most of us are 40-50 something (age wise) and some of us don't work outside the home, yet we don't have small children that we are home caring for any more. So the question we are so often asked (and so often dread) is, "What do you do?"

As if what I DO defines WHO I am.

After the answer of, "Oh I stay home," we all felt like it was necessary to apologize or explain why we stayed home without small children by our sides. See, so many of us had defined ourselves as "mom" for so long that when our little chicks left the nest, we really weren't sure how to describe who we are anymore. Though we are still "moms", we don't have the responsibility of much of the mom responsibilities we had when our kids were very young. We were all frustrated that we even had to feel the need to apologize that we stay home (as if we are doing nothing!).

Frankly, we are all busy with many tasks that we couldn't do when our kids were younger. And besides that, what we do does in no way define who we are. We all laughed and decided that we should reply that we are "sojourners seeking after Jesus" or "women learning to love others the way Jesus did" or something like the first 2 options. Because honestly, that's WHO we are. Women who are being made into the likeness of Jesus day by day - some days more and some days, well not so much depending on our willingness to cooperate with God's chiseling in our lives.

So what we do does matters because we are endeavoring to follow hard after Christ, but who we are matters so, so much more. And whose we are (Christ's) matters even more.

For we are God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do. Ephesians 2:10 (NIV)

**If you'd like to read the article I reference at the beginning, you can read it here.

Resolved...

2012-01-02T14:31:00.001-06:00

...to do something new this year.

I really don't like resolutions. See, I end up doing a great job at breaking them by the first week (if not sooner). I'd much rather take a look at the previous year's triumph(s) and look forward to this year's big goal.

Funny that this time last year I was actually employed. Well, at least employed for the first 2 weeks of the year. I miss my job some days, but I like the freedom of being able to have a flexible schedule even more than the kudos a job often brings.

Last year brought a first for me...I ran my first half marathon in March. It was an accomplishment that I am still very proud of. It was hard enough running those 13.1 miles, but even harder after I had twisted my right ankle badly in early December and was off running for almost 6 weeks. I lost a lot of valuable training time and many said that I shouldn't even consider running the half. But stubborn me decided to do it anyway. And I'm so glad I did!

I ran several other races in 2011. I ran a 15K in JULY - yes, in the HOTTEST TEXAS summer ever. If you've followed my blog, you know I ran that race just to get a shirt that said, "Too Hot To Handle." Yeah, really. I blame the insanity on the heat.

I started December with a marathon relay on the coldest and wettest day I've ever run. 5 miles of a persistent downpour in 40 degree temps - wet shoes, wet gloves, wet hair...miserable. But still I managed to have fun.

I ended the year with a 15 mile run. Which brings me to my biggest goal of 2012 - a marathon in late February. I still have about 210 (give or take) more training miles to go before the big day in 55 days.

I'm terrified.

No really. TERRIFIED.

I wanted to come up with a BIG goal for the BIG occasion of me turning 50 February 6th. How much bigger can you get than running 26.2 miles? (Ok, I guess I could run an ultra marathon, but a regular marathon seemed big enough for me.)

So if you're friends with me on Facebook or if perhaps you read my blog every now and again, please encourage me to keep on training through the pain (those long Saturday runs are a beating!). Pray for me, too, to stay injury-free. Tell me once in a while that I can do this thing - this really HARD thing. Believe it or not, I appreciate every ounce of encouragement I can get.

May all your troubles last as long as your New Year's resolutions. ~Joey Adams

A Duct Tape Christmas

2011-12-21T13:10:00.000-06:00

This is a post from 2006. I liked it so much, I thought I'd repost it.

Duct tape - a man's solution to life's little problems. Actually, I have been known to solve a few problems myself with a little duct tape. My husband is so proud of me!

A couple of weeks ago, the boys informed me that they would be decorating the exterior of our home for Christmas. Equipped with the boxes of Christmas lights and extension plugs, I decided, "How bad could it be?"

That question was soon answered when I went out to check their progress. To my horror, they were rigging a strand of icicle lights with DUCT TAPE. They weren't using it in a "hidden" nook, either. They had taped a strand about 3/4 of the way up the front column of the house (I guess they couldn't reach any further). At that point I realized that supervision was necessary. So I called in the big guns - Craig! He was less than thrilled and thought they were doing a splendid job and should pursue their creative...ah...endeavor. A short "discussion" later, he was out hanging lights. I must say, it all meets with my approval. And there's not a strand of duct tape in sight.

But just in case you run out of bows for your Christmas packages, check out this site and you will find instructions on how to make a beautiful bow from, yep, you guessed it...DUCT TAPE. (Git er dun.) And if you really need a chuckle, go here and check out the SERMON on duct tape and the TOP 10 LIST for duct tape. I had no idea duct tape was so versatile!

The beast behind the fence

2011-12-13T13:02:00.001-06:00

One of my biggest fears when I run is when I am running alongside a big privacy fence and can hear (even though I have music playing in my earphones) a dog barking. I immediately scan the fence line to see if any boards are askew or likely to shift. Most barking dogs that I can hear over my music MUST be large (right??).

Kind of reminds me of "The Beast" in the movie, The Sandlot. This HUGE beast of a thing lurks on the other side of the fence and constantly hoards all things that happen to go over the fence, namely baseballs. The boys in the film have this beast built up in their minds as something to be greatly feared - after all, he might eat them all! You can watch the movie to find out the rest, but needless to say, The Beast is really not the beast that they imagine.

Fear is an interesting companion. It goes hand-in-hand with worry and anxiety. And as I've said before, worry could definitely be my spiritual gift. I can get so tied up in knots over the "whatifs" of life that I can literally become paralyzed.

I recently heard that the word "anxiety" or "worry" in Greek literally means to "have a divided mind." Doesn't that describe worry perfectly? It divides your mind between what is sane and right versus what is illogical and often wrong. But yet, fear is like the perceived beast on the other side of the fence...it COULD be huge. It COULD be something fearful. It COULD be something that could eat us up. (And frankly, fear unchecked will eat up all peace that we so desire!)

Apparently, God knows that we are fearful human beings. I have heard (though haven't verified) that the Bible says "fear not" about 365 times - that's enough "fear nots" for every day of the year. Even if that's not an accurate count, it still MUST be one of the most common "commands" that we read in Scripture.

Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire you will not be burned, the flames will not set you ablaze. For I am the LORD, your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior. Isaiah 43:1b-3a

Maybe I should add, "And when you pass by the fence with the big barking dog, you shall not be bitten for I shall keep the dog surrounded by the fence." (The gospel according to Lori)

Take the long way home

2011-10-26T15:15:00.004-05:00

I'm in a bit of turmoil over the silliest thing.

It's the Cowtown Marathon in February.

In my excitement, I signed up the very first day the race registration opened. I just knew that I wanted to run a marathon next February shortly after my 50th birthday (you know, bucket list type thing). I did a half marathon in March of this year and even a 15k run in mid-July in sweltering Texas heat. I mean, how hard could 26.2 miles be?

Oh dear. WHAT HAVE I DONE? I. Am. Mortified.

How will I EVER run TWENTY SIX POINT TWO MILES?? For heavens sake, I'll be FIFTY!

(Whew. Glad I got that off my chest. I was freaking out a bit.)

In my panic, I've checked the website to see if it's possible to recant my ill-conceived idea. I can't exactly cancel my spot, but I can decide to run a shorter race - like a half marathon instead. I have till December 31st to decide.

My husband even bribed me to run the FULL marathon by offering to buy me jewelry. (Yes, he knows I can be bought.)

But now that the time has come to start training for the run, I'm really wishing I hadn't been so rash in registering. What's wrong with me? Do I think I'm YOUNG or something?

I did actually print out a suggested training schedule from the race site. The runs aren't so bad during the week (mostly 4-6 miles 3 days a week). But the Saturday run increases by a mile each week. This Saturday is 6 miles and it goes up from there. I feel comfortable with the schedule until it gets to the double digit schedule the week of Thanksgiving. That's just a month away.

I guess that's what I'm most afraid of...the long training runs. Those double digit runs means running for 2-4 hours (or more). And actually the longest distance is just (just - ha, ha) 20 miles. That means the day of the marathon I STILL have another 6.2 to go.

My inner gazelle is feeling like a tired, old mule just thinking about it.

I decided to just see how long I can keep up with the schedule (and IF I can keep up with the schedule without injury - I still am having a bit of Achilles tendon problems). I can decide after I try the 16 mile run right after Christmas.

Oh tidings of ~~comfort~~ torture and ~~joy~~ pain.

Find your happy pace

2011-10-17T08:27:00.001-05:00

Sometimes it's hard for me not to be competitive when I run.

Saturday I was out for a quick morning run and this older guy (ok, so I don't perceive MYSELF as old...) blasted past me. It was really hard for me not to want to take off and lap him (as if I could - he was in great shape). I wisely decided to stay in my happy pace and ignore that someone older than me smoked me on the jogging trail.

But it's not just running that makes me competitive. I tend to be competitive about EVERYthing.

It's hard for me not to long for someone else's charmed life. I would like to be the one who goes with girlfriends on a cool weekend away. I would like to be the one attending seminary. I would like to be the one who doesn't have to straighten and dye her hair. I would like to be the one to have a husband who doesn't travel all the time (but still has a job!). I would like to be the one who has a really cool career. I would like to be the one to run a 7 minute mile and keep that pace for a half marathon. I would like to be the one who lives closer to family so that it's not just twice a year or once a year that I get to see them. I would like to be the one that doesn't constantly have 10 pounds to lose (or 5 or any, for that matter).

I could go on...

But I'm not that "one." And I can wish for all of the above, but it's just never going to be me. And likewise, the only people on the jogging trail that I'm going to smoke are the people ~~crawling~~ walking.

I'm not complaining. I do live a charmed life in my opinion. I just think it could be more charming sometimes. But I have to remember that God has placed me right where He wants me and asks me to find my happy pace and not worry about those passing me by or those going a different direction. He's asked me to be content in whatever circumstances I'm in...though He also tells me that contentment is LEARNED not a given.

So for today, I'll be thankful for my happy pace (and place) and head out for another run and count my blessings even if I happen to be a turtle and not a gazelle.

Grace and graciousness

2011-10-10T13:55:00.000-05:00

My husband and I did a very rare thing for us this weekend.

We went to see a movie at the movie theater.

No streaming Netflix. No Redbox rental. No freebie from the library. No internet documentary. A real movie. (Ok, ok...we went before noon with all the other old people so we could save a couple bucks.)

I suggested "Ides of March." Of course my husband accused me of wanting to see it so that I could ~~ogle~~ watch George Clooney and Ryan Gosling. He's wrong, of course. I heard it was a good story. (Believe me?? I won't lie, both men are very easy on the eyes!)

All kidding aside, it was a good flick. We both enjoyed it. It gave us a little afternoon conversation about the story line and character motivation. (Don't worry, I won't give any spoilers in the post.)

What I noticed about several of the characters was that they each desperately needed grace from someone else. Instead what they got was being told that they had "messed up and were out." Even in one circumstance where it looked like grace was being offered, the driving motivation was selfishness and personal agenda.

What a parallel to real life.

How many times do we see someone who desperately needs grace because they messed up big time and all we have to offer them are platitudes and personal agendas? We roll right over them with words meant to hurt and cause the other to feel small. How hard would it be to let go of our own agendas and offer grace - undeserved favor - that would give a balm of healing to the person who KNOWS they messed up?

I do not at all understand the mystery of grace - only that it meets us where we are but does not leave us where it found us. ~Anne Lamott

Woman without community

2011-09-15T12:28:00.000-05:00

The title describes me. And to read that about myself makes me grieve.

Some time ago, we decided to leave a church community that we had been part of for over 14 years. The reasons aren't so important, so I won't discuss them. I don't discuss them readily anyway because they are so very personal. And I had to think long and hard about even writing about loss of community, but it's been on my heart and my mind and I wanted to express some of the things I'm feeling about the loss.

I served in this community for over 10 years in some capacity. I greatly love serving women and teaching and leading small groups. When you leave community, you have to give this up (for obvious reasons) and until you find another community to "fit into", serving is not part of the equation.

I've pondered being in this interesting wilderness many times. It often feels like I've severed a limb or had a hard break-up with someone I loved. It's strange to not be a "part" of something that was so vital to your life for a very long time. With that loss comes the loss of friendships at least to a certain extent. Some friends still try to maintain that relationships, but I've found quite a few people who haven't even realized that our family is MIA. It does hurt a bit to not be missed especially when you were a fairly visible part of a community.

I don't want to sound like I'm whining. The choice was ours to make. I'm not mad at anyone, so don't misunderstand my motives. I'm just saying that it's a hard place to be - to be somewhat of a misfit in other communities as you find your way to that spot where you might fit in. To feel like a face in the crowd in a new community is a difficult transition.

I went completely out of my comfort zone yesterday and attended a new Bible study. Wow...that was hard. I was mortified and afraid. To be a woman who seems to have it all together, I felt like it was all falling apart yesterday. I was incredibly thankful for smiling faces and new "friends" and some familiar friendly faces to get me through the morning. It still makes me uncomfortable to think about going back, but I don't feel as afraid. At least I feel like it's a step forward to being in community again.

It's just not easy being the new kid on the block. Or in the community.

Standing on top of the world

2011-08-24T08:24:00.001-05:00

Craig on the way up - about 10,000ft. elevation. Looks like a moonscape!

The top of Mauna Kea with one of the telescopes = 13,700 ft.

One of the telescopes opened up finally

Craig and me at sunset

I love the sky in this photo

It's hard to believe that just 2 weeks ago I was on top of the world. Literally. With a parka. And mittens. And a cold wind in 32*.

And of all places, it was in Hawaii.

Seriously.

Our family did an excursion to the top of Mauna Kea on the Big Island of Hawaii. It was extraordinary standing at 13,000+ feet and watching the sun set. It's an experience I doubt I'll ever see again - at least from that vantage point.

Believe it or not, Mauna Kea is the WORLD'S highest point. Yes, it's higher than Mt. Everest. But the reason it's higher is because most of its elevation is below the surface of the ocean. From the base, it's over 33,000 ft. tall! Amazingly, it used to be lush and densely forested until cattle was introduced and began foraging for food and destroyed all the lush vegetation. Now the area looks like a moonscape and as a matter of fact, has been used for training astronauts for lunar landings.

This is the only plant like this on the island. It used to be everywhere until cattle was introduced and ate all but this plant.

Besides the sunset, the best part of the night was being able to see the rings around Saturn (we did a little star-gazing) and seeing a globular cluster (the last remains of a galaxy far, far away). We had a wonderful guide who knew a lot of island history and lore which he generously shared with us. If it weren't for the obnoxious couple who thought they knew everything and kept interrupting him, it would have been the perfect evening. As a matter of fact, the wife in this couple ended up getting altitude sickness that required her to go on oxygen until we could descend to 5000 ft. Not a pretty picture. Our guide made the most of it and Hawaii Forest and Trails offered us a generous refund of a portion of our trip.

2 of the telescopes that we could see from the bottom of Mauna Kea (see picture below)

The guide said that you can never tell who will end up with altitude sickness. He said he's had elite athletes who were in amazing shape end up very sick and overweight obviously out-of-shape folks do just fine. Guess you can't judge a book by it's cover.

The whole experience made me realize how big God is and how very small I am. Just looking at the vast array of stars in the sky reminded me that God placed each and every one of them there and not only that, He knows their names. (He determines the number of the stars and calls them each by name. Psalm 147:4) hard for me to even fathom the number of stars - and so many we couldn't even see. Yet God sees every one of them.

The sunset colors were so spectacular that it made me want to cry. The beauty was breath-taking. I've never seen anything like it. And sadly, the pictures I took didn't do the color palette justice. But in my mind I've saved the mental picture of the overwhelming evening of beauty.

He sits enthroned above the circle of the earth, and its people are like grasshoppers. He stretches out the heavens like a canopy, and spreads them out like a tent to live in....Lift your eyes and look to the heavens: Who created all of these? He who brings out the starry host one by one, and calls them each by name. Because of His great power and mighty strength, not one of them is missing. Isaiah 40:22&26

Mauna Kea from the bottom of the island - the small white domes are the telescopes

Reading, Writing and Ridiculous

2011-08-17T12:36:00.000-05:00

Ok...gonna rant a bit today...please no hate comments. It's merely my opinion and I'm not trying to start WWIII.

So...

My younger son who will be a junior this year is taking 2 AP classes. Generally, taking an AP class necessitates homework during the summer. Now I have no problem with homework such as reading a book or two for an English class - especially if it's going to be discussed when school begins. I do have a problem with HOURS and HOURS of work that requires extensive research and reams of paper to print the so-called report. Is this necessary? Is my student learning something "valuable" from giving up an ENTIRE week or more (at least 8 hours each day) working on summer "homework?"

My next question is, will said teacher of class actually read the REAMS of paper from each student (at least 30+) or just casually glance at it and give it a random grade based on some unknown Rubrik?

Trust me, we've had the above happen. At the end of my son's freshman year, he completed a 40+ page report (yes, we had to print the whole darn thing out for the teacher). The teacher gave it a cursory look and gave him an "A." The turnaround time on this project after handing it in was about a week. She had 100-150 students to evaluate.

Really? Do you REALLY believe she read all those papers? I don't. I provided feedback to the principal who said this particular teacher (who retired this year with the pay cuts) was one of the best. (She was so bad that my son did poorly on his annual standardized state test - first year ever to not receive a commended due to the way the teacher instructed the students to answer the questions). One of the best?

So forgive me if I'm a bit cynical about this "project" for AP English III, but I have my doubts that it will be used or read by the teacher. And I totally resent my son having to spend his last week of summer vacation working on something that appears to be a waste of time. (Now if it were an assignment during the school year and a reason for the assignment was stated, I would have no problem with it - it's an interesting assignment - just incredibly time consuming).

Isn't summer vacation - by definition - just that? VACATION? Cessation from work? As it is, Grayson took an online health class the first part of the summer so he could take more music classes during the school year. After all, isn't that why he's attending an ARTS MAGNET school? (And he also was gone for 3 weeks on mission trips and 1 week for family vacation, otherwise, the other weeks were ALL spent on homework.)

So please forgive me when I don't repost the Facebook status about "somewhere a teacher is working hard and spending her own money on preparing for her students." I know teachers are underpaid and overworked. I get that. But so are parents and students during the summer and I hate being the homework Nazi during the summer when my kid should be able to read fun fiction and just hang out.

(And as a side note - yes, I realize this is another reason why some homeschool. Definitely the flexibility to decide if the work is relevant and necessary during summer. My argument isn't about what's better - I think every family has to decide what the best option is for their kids. We've chosen public school and been happy so far. It's just this darn summer work that makes me cranky and the Arts Magnet school has FAR more homework than the local high school. And I can't believe that the teacher - who already is overworked and over-commited - has time to grade all the work. Just my humble opinion - for what it's worth. I greatly appreciate teachers and all they do for their students, but I just don't get what's fueling this summer assignment school of thought. If there's not enough instructional time during the school year, then that needs to be addressed and changed. But there were countless days during the school year when movies were shown in the classroom and NO instruction took place.)

A Charmed Life

2011-08-03T09:08:00.001-05:00

I have to say that I lead a charmed life.

Hawaii at Sunset

Sea turtle in Hawaii

Eagle Ray swimming with us

Well, a sweaty, but charmed life. I do occasionally get out of Texas so that my life can be more charming and less sweaty.

This will be the 4th time I've been to Hawaii. I've walked out to lava flowing down from a volcano. I flew in a helicopter over the Kilauea caldera and seen the lava bubbling up inside the volcano. What an awesome sight! (And I don't use awesome loosely!) This trip we are planning a trip to the top of Mauna Kea to see the stars at one of the best observatories in the world. It also happens to be the time of year for one of the best meteor showers to occur. How cool is that?

Lava from Kilauea at night

Kilaeua Caldera (lava bubbling up)

In a very different part of the world, I've flown to the top of a glacier and landed in an airplane on it. We walked around and threw snowballs in the middle of summer. The glacier, if melted, would be as deep as the Grand Canyon! I've flown right past Mount McKinley on a sunny day and it is breathtaking.

Mt. McKinley, Alaska

Alaska beauty

I've traveled twice to Israel and enjoyed the beauty of the Mount of Beatitudes and been on the same steps that Jesus walked to Jerusalem. I've seen the Garden of Gethsemene where Jesus was betrayed by Judas and the Potter's Field where Judas hanged himself.

Jerusalem

Jerusalem at night

Sometimes it's hard to remember how fortunate I am(especially in 110* temps in Texas in the summer) and how blessed I've been by seeing so much of God's amazing creation. I've seen so much beauty that it brings tears to my eyes and takes my breath away.

So for today, I'm very thankful for my charmed life. Yes indeed. Charmed.

Monahans Sand Dune Park, West Texas

Wildflowers in my "backyard"

Sunset seen out my backdoor - there's no place like home

Live Uncaged

2011-08-01T20:50:00.000-05:00

I love Mary DeMuth. She's a local writer who writes with her heart and soul and is one of the most authentic writers in the DFW area. I greatly admire her work.

Recently she wrote a book that can be downloaded online called Live Uncaged. This is also the tagline for her blogsite. I loved the book. It was a mere 90 or so page Word document, but it was such a healing work to read. I even took notes in my journal so that I wouldn't forget many of the wonderful nuggets of truth that I read. (The link for the free download will be at the end of the post...so keep reading.)

I relate so well to Mary. She's not a rose-colored glasses girl. If you've read my blog long enough, you know that I am far from a glass half-full girl. But I am a recovering pessimist. Truly. God is working on that part of me (and yes, it's painful).

One of the hardest things for me (besides being a glass half-full gal) is learning how to "rest." It's hard for me to feel "ok" with who I am and that I don't HAVE to do anything to prove my worth. Here's what Mary says:

Rest can mean that it feels ok to live in my own skin. Peace with the tyrannical, perfectionist self. Jesus frees me from my over-critical self....(It's)Not my job to relentlessly examine myself. It's my job to learn from Jesus, to hear His words sung over my life. He is he one who examines. Sabbath- rest also has to do with my heart being at peace with God and myself and others.

Mary's words are exciting to me. I am a DOER. I place so much of my self-worth as it relates to my DOING. I forget that God loves me when I am just BEING me. I don't have to constantly DO to gain His approval. What a freeing concept! I know that I am an approval junkie. I kind of like being validated by my works. But God has been asking me to rest. Rest. Rest in who HE is and be ok with who He made me.

It's funny that in one part of her book, Mary talks about how reluctant she was to say she is a triathlete. It took me MONTHS to actually tell people that YES, I am a runner. For the longest time I felt like a fake because I don't look like a runner (and after running a number of races, there really is no "look" to runners unless you are an elite runner which I will never be). But I run 4 times a week. I've run quite a few races - legit races. I'm running a marathon in February. I totally can say I'm a runner. I don't care if I have a couple of love handles from having babies in my 30's. It doesn't make me less of a runner. And besides, my husband reminds me that those love handles are a badge of honor for having those sweet boys of mine.

Rest. Stillness. Quietness. Peace. Cessation of striving. Finding that place where I am able to hear God speak His words of love and acceptance over me. Thanks, Mary for helping me see that that place does exist.

Learning how to be comfortable in my own skin. Nice.

Let the past sleep, but let it sleep on the bosom of Christ, and go into the irresistible future with Him. Oswald Chambers

**Mary's book download site with the book as well as a few podcasts with her testimony are found here Thanks, Mary for your generosity to share your beautiful words and raw emotions with the world. God bless you.

Down and out

2011-07-27T19:40:00.001-05:00

I have a confession. I can't say that I like this about myself. It's not something I'd wish on my worst enemy either.

I'm dysthymic. It's a low-grade depression that NEVER goes away. It's genetic and is best treated with meds...and even a combination of meds.

After several months of feeling like I wanted to go to sleep at night and not ever wake up, I sought the help of a great counselor and medical physicians. It has been hours of counseling every other week and several doctor visits and lots of forms filled out and new meds started and I finally am starting to feel like a new woman.

The hardest part of this diagnosis is that I most likely will never be off the meds.

I cried when the doctor told me that.

But before you judge me and think to yourself that I just need to pull myself up by my boot straps, let me just say that you would NEVER, EVER expect a diabetic to go without insulin. You would never even consider telling a heart patient to skip their heart medication and just "run it off."

I'm no different. I seriously can't "will" myself to be better. Brain chemistry is a complex electrical system. If I could make myself better by running (Lord knows, I've tried) or by eating a certain way or by taking vitamins or herbal remedies, I would be superwoman by now. All these things HELP, but they don't CURE.

This is a painful subject for me and one of those thorns in my side that I'd rather not admit to the general public. But if my confession helps just ONE person, it will be worthwhile.

There's nothing wrong with needing help. From meds. From doctors. From counselors. By all means, don't suffer needlessly.

It might be "all in your head", but that's a complex issue best left to professionals.

Diabetic drummer

2011-07-23T17:01:00.000-05:00

The beginning of the end - we should have guessed Drummer Boy had diabetes by several suspicious things going on during the summer before 7th grade. Easy to see in retrospect!

There was some excitement at my house yesterday. A very important piece of equipment stopped working. That piece of equipment happens to be my son's insulin pump. It stopped working with only a small buzz of a warning that something was amiss.

Trust me, when you are diabetic, you check all ERR messages on your insulin pump.

And once again I realize that my son has a malfunctioning pancreas. At some point just 7 years ago, something attacked the insulin producing cells in his pancreas and they went totally kaput. Unlike his insulin pump malfunction, there was no beep or ERR message. Just a kid who was very sick and a mom who knew something wasn't right. I suspected diabetes, but didn't want to truly believe that's what it was. It seemed so unlikely.

Sadly, approximately 80 people PER DAY learn that they are an insulin dependent diabetic. INSULIN dependent because their body produces not one drop of insulin. A non-insulin dependent diabetic may produce insulin, their bodies just can't utilize it correctly (and they tend to be older or overweight unlike insulin dependent diabetics). Some non-insulin dependent diabetics can control their diabetes with diet and exercise. Not so with the type of diabetes my son has. His prognosis is life with needles, multiple daily finger sticks and counting carbohydrates in every bit of food he eats and he can NEVER control it with just diet and exercise (though it helps...he just will ALWAYS have to take external insulin). He's part mathematician, biologist, endocrinologist, personal trainer and high level problem solver.

I was explaining to a family member yesterday how much this disease costs. We recently had to fill a prescription for a glucagon pen. A glucagon pen is to a diabetic what an epi-pen is to someone with severe shellfish or bee sting allergies. It's something you hope you NEVER have to use, but you can't afford to not have one around. That pen costs $180. $180 for something you HOPE you can throw away and never use! Since his pump didn't work, he had to go on insulin shots instead of his "artificial" pancreas. A bottle of long-acting insulin costs $130. A bottle of short-acting insulin (which he uses for the carbs he eats at meals or snacks) is about $100. When he's using a pump, he can go through a bottle of insulin every TEN days. Do the math...about $300 a month. His pump supplies are about $200 a month. Plus there's test strips (about $1 each and he tests up to 6 times a day), alcohol swabs, needles, tegaderm tape, ketostix, glucose tabs, or juice and probably a few other things I'm missing. This disease can easily cost $750 or more a month at the bare minimum.

Thankfully we have insurance. I can't imagine what you do if you don't have insurance. His insulin pump is as much as many used cars. Seriously.

Maybe that explains why I was so panicked when Craig lost his job in the past. It wasn't the lack of income as much as lack of insurance for drummer son.

The cost can skyrocket if you don't take care of your disease and end up in the hospital. Diabetics are prone to eye problems, cardiac problems, loss of limbs, kidney disease and more. Just a few more things to add to the cost of having a disease you had no control over getting.

Maybe that's why I'm passionate about a cure for this disease. No one wants to see their kid in a hospital bed screaming that they don't want a shot and then having to give them one anyway. No one wants to see their pre-teen missing out on staying at a friend's house because the friend's parent is afraid of a kid with diabetes. No one wants to constantly have to monitor food intake, count carbs, wake up in the middle of the night to take a shot because your blood sugar spikes. No wants to take a major exam when your blood sugar is low, but you have to anyway (and your brain function is highly affected by low blood sugar for up to 48 hours). No one wants to be discriminated from a job you love because you have diabetes and "might" get sick.

My handsome drummer boy.

On a positive note, his replacement insulin pump came today. He's very healthy and is doing great and is very responsible for his own health. He can talk intelligently to a specialist physician. And he's one truly amazing drummer and a pretty terrific human being. There's lots to be thankful for in a pretty difficult situation.

Running for a reason

2011-07-20T14:39:00.000-05:00

My brain is on overdrive.

Just yesterday someone asked me "why" I was running a marathon in February 2012. The question was not like the "Whys?" that I usually get (as in "WHY are you running a MARATHON?? Have you lost your MIND?" - Well, yes, but that's besides the point.) She was wondering for what purpose I was running the marathon.

I have to say, I was speechless for a minute. (And those of you who know me, know I'm rarely speechLESS.)

To do something on my bucket list? To do something cool? To do something I don't think I can really do? (Ok, scratch that one as it's not positive.) To celebrate my 50th birthday with something only a small percentage of the world population does? To burn so many calories I can eat the entire German Chocolate Birthday Cake by myself and not gain an ounce? (Ok, that one is totally legit.)

I. Don't. Know.

But I've been thinking about this question even before I was asked. When I went to the last health expo for the half marathon I ran, I noticed several groups there who represented charities that ran on behalf of fundraising for that group. Some groups have training available if you run with them, some have free tech shirts or running groups to help motivate you.

So I started thinking about what charities I might be interested in raising money and awareness for if I were to do the Cowtown Marathon as a fundraiser.

One charity came to mind immediately. Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation. See, I happen to live with a diabetic. My amazing 19 year old was diagnosed with insulin-dependent diabetes when he was only 12. As of September 9th, he will have had diabetes for 7 years. That's 7 years of needles, finger pricks, shots, multiple daily blood sugar checks, not always being able to eat what he wanted and 6 long years of being tethered to an insulin pump that serves as his pancreas.

I can't think of a better reason to run a marathon.

So I'm going to check into this a bit more and pray about it. I did find out from the fundraising site on JDRF that they use Jeff Galloway as their cyber trainer. What a cool coincidence! I also love their motto:

Train. Inspire. Cure.

The difference between try and triumph is a little bit of umph. (Anonymous)

I got plenty of UMPH.

Hidden beauties

2011-07-19T19:08:00.000-05:00

Cross at the top of the mountain - a hidden beauty at a small chapel

I just got back from a visit to the land of Suh-weet tea and cornbread.

Boy, did I eat my share of cornbread. Didn't have any sweet tea, though. Rarely (if ever) drink the stuff. But I do love that in South Carolina it's assumed that when you order tea at a restaurant that it's sweet. You have to specify UNsweet. Although that does seem to be changing as the years go by.

I enjoyed a wonderful visit with my mom. We realized that I had not been to visit her for almost a year and a half. That's simply too long. I was thankful to see her if only for a few days. The temps were almost fall-like (at least by Texas standards). I didn't sweat once (except for the day I ran) and actually saw rain a couple of mornings!

Now I'm back to this inferno called TEXAS. Ick. (I don't hate Texas, I just dislike it from about June-October.)

What I enjoyed most about SC was my mother's lovely Sunday school class. Beautiful women who have an extra measure of Southern charm and grace. They deeply love each other and care about each other's lives. You know if the rest of the community we call "church" were like these women, a lot more people might be interested in Jesus. "Christian" would have a pleasant ring and associated stereotypes would disappear. Such a pleasure to be with these charming women who always welcome me with open arms. I love that they pray for me...a stranger to most of them from the far away country called "Texas."

I enjoy hidden beauty in the everyday. God has planted beautiful people in all of our lives that we often take for granted or don't even know about. If ever there were "hidden beauties", it would be this group of women who faithfully serve other ministries in the church as well as each other. The day I was there, they were talking about making bracelets for another ministry in the church. They had already made some simple dresses for someone to take to Kenya. They had been praying for my son who's in Ireland and were very interested in what he was doing (and they've never met him!).

Hidden beauties to most, but well-known beauties to God.

Wild Morning Glories - Hidden beauties in the forest

And Jesus said: "A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another." Gospel of John 13:34-35

The Luck of the Irish

2011-07-11T17:00:00.000-05:00

Today my baby is on his way to Ireland.

Well, he's not exactly a baby. But he's MY baby of 16 1/2 years old and he's flying with a group to Ireland to do some mission work.

When did he get old enough to walk through the TSA security area without me? Wasn't it just yesterday that I had to hold his hand and prompt him to take off his shoes and jacket and walk through the screener/scanner. It was surely not long ago.

I frankly don't know if my mother's heart wants to cheer that her little bird is almost ready to leave the nest (meaning my job is done) or if I want to cry big crocodile tears because my job is almost done!

26 years ago my mom watched me get on a plane bound for Frankfurt, Germany. Sure, I was 23 years old and not 16, but I'm sure her mother's heart was in just as much of a quandary as mine is today.

It's hard to watch your children walk away from you...even for good reasons. It wasn't easy the first time I left them in a church nursery. It wasn't easy when I left them the first day of kindergarten. It wasn't easy the first day they drove off by themselves in a car. And though I've had plenty of practice, it's not easy letting your boy-man fly off half way across the world. *Sigh*

Motherhood brings as much joy as ever, but it still brings boredom, exhaustion, and sorrow too. Nothing else ever will make you as happy or as sad, as proud or as tired, for nothing is quite as hard as helping a person develop his own individuality especially while you struggle to keep your own. -Marguerite Kelly and Elia Parsons

Hide and seek

2011-07-07T16:15:00.000-05:00

The other day the oddest thing happened. It was about 7am and the sun was shining. I started hearing some plink, plink, plink on the skylight and realized that it was raining. Big, fat, beautiful wet drops of liquid sunshine coming down from heaven!

I grabbed my coffee mug and walked out to the front porch to smell the rain. (There is a name for that smell...petrichor...be impressed that I know that!) I knew that SOMEWHERE there was a rainbow. It was raining and the sun was shining, so there had to be a rainbow somewhere in the sky.

I never saw it. I live at the end of a cul-de-sac at the bottom of a hill and many trees and houses to obstruct my view of the sky. But later on facebook, I noticed a friend had posted a picture of it and another friend had seen it on her morning walk.

But it was a lesson for me...a reminder that sometimes I can't see God for the rain. Sometimes I can't see God because I'm living in the pit in my life. Sometimes God is just obstructed from my view because of everything that looms in front of me. But yet....

But yet...I know He's there even when I can see or feel Him. It's called faith.

And trust me, I've been living in the pit for a while and know what it feels like to miss the colors of the rainbow and the smell of rain on the earth. But the colors are starting to look more vivid everyday. But that's a blog for another day.

Rainbow over Jericho, Palestine

“When you have come to the edge Of all light that you know And are about to drop off into the darkness Of the unknown, Faith is knowing One of two things will happen: There will be something solid to stand on or You will be taught to fly” ~Patrick Overton

I had fallen...

2011-07-02T20:21:00.000-05:00

...but I did get up.

This is a true statement. I did fall today. I have a big raspberry on my left knee and a swollen right knee to prove it.

I was out for a training run early this morning. It was the last BIG run before my 15K race next Sunday. All was going great. I was running well at the 5 mile mark (not an easy feat in this hot and humid weather). I was ready for another 5 and enjoying how much my iPod understood what music I wanted to hear today (amazing how it can be so intuitive!). Then...

...it was like slow motion. I realized that I had stumbled (slipped? drug my feet too much? tripped on uneven pavement?) and there I went like a cut tree in the forest...down, down...splat! And like the proverbial tree in the forest, I was hoping no one was around to hear (or see) me fall! Embarrassing! I have heard that SOME runners fall while running. But I never imagined it would be me! I guess my pride went splat with my entire body, too.

I'm still a little afraid of running again. It seemed so random to fall with nothing in my way...the sidewalk didn't even seem to be uneven. (And I refuse to even think I fell because I'm ~~older than dirt~~ a mature runner.)

Thankfully I only have a few minor scrapes, a little knee swelling and nothing broken from this terribly embarrassing escapade. It could have been so much worse! My fearful brain immediately began thinking of the "what ifs?" What if I had been crossing a busy street? What if I do this next week in the race? What if I had broken a bone? What if Craig weren't around to come get me? What if? WHAT IF??

Whew. That's a tiring exercise. Running is far easier than the "what ifs?" in life.

And of course, I'm reminded of a promise from God...

The steps of a man are established by the LORD and He delights in his way. When he falls, he shall not be hurled headlong, because the LORD is the One who holds his hand. Psalm 27:23-24

So today maybe I did get hurled headlong. But despite that unfortunate incident, I know that God was the One truly holding my hand so it wasn't worse. And it's not that bad things don't happen in real life (gravity is a reality in my world), it's just that regardless of what happens, I am assured that God still holds my hand in His and He's not surprised by the outcome. Scrapes and swollen knees notwithstanding. (Or not standing at all!)

Narcissistic Biggots

2011-06-29T19:52:00.000-05:00

Olympian Jeff Galloway and A Marathon Wanna-be (me!)

Call me crazy (because I know you already have), but I drove 250 miles round trip yesterday to go to "running school."

Now...it's not like I don't know "how" to run. I've been doing it for pretty much all my life. But I haven't ever run a marathon - not a full one anyway. There's a technique to doing it well and to actually being able to finish the journey....all 26.2 miles. I'm signed up for a marathon for February to celebrate my 50th birthday. Some people eat cake, I run. I run so I CAN eat cake.

The class I went to was run by Jeff Galloway. Jeff was "an average high school runner who learned, trained hard and made the US Olympic team in 1972." He and his wife, Barbara, run ONE MARATHON a month. No big deal. He told us last night that he has not had an injury in over 32 years. Did I mention that he was born in 1945? He has written a book about running called, Running Until You Are 100. He said that there have been some great scientific studies in PEER REVIEWED journals that show that runners (who were in their 50's) had better joints than nonrunners. So don't let anyone tell you that you are too old to run. I have awful knees and 3 post-surgical feet, but I'm till doing it without injury. (**If you want more info on the Galloway method check out his website...here. He also writes for Runner's World Magazine.)

Here's the secret...his method is a run-walk-run method. If you want to know HOW, well, you'll have to pay for his class or books (or take me to coffee which Jeff approves of!). I don't think I could adequately explain the whole thing in my blog. But basically, you figure out what your predicted time will be for running a marathon (there's a method for doing that) and then you do a run/walk ratio using a timer. He uses a 30-30 ratio, that is 30 seconds of running and 30 seconds of walking even during a marathon. He finishes in under 5 hours. AND he is able to go out the next day and run again...no recovery time necessary. Some of the longer time is due to him being older (you'd never know it by meeting him - he stood the full 3 hour class and had mega-energy!).

Which brings me to the "narcissistic biggots."

Since Jeff encourages running and walking, there are those who think that you are not a "real runner" unless you RUN the ENTIRE marathon/half marathon/10k/5k. Many who were in there last night had already run several marathons using Jeff's run-walk-run technique. One guy said he'd run his first marathon without the Galloway method. Then for his subsequent marathons he used Galloway's method and found that he was able to finish faster and recover quickly. And what's interesting and surprising is that MANY of these marathoners ended up finishing before these so-called "real runners."

Now tell me that's not a real runner??

Jeff said even if you crawl across the finish line, you get the same medal as those who finish earlier and have already showered and are on the plane home. (But with his method, you shouldn't be crawling.)

Often other runners will comment that those who run-walk-run are not real runners and are annoying to those who do run the entire way (and take 2 weeks to recover, I should add - I know how hard it was to recover after a half marathon when I ran most of it). He calls these folks "narcissistic biggots." And he says we meet people like this in all areas of our lives. You know the type...the ones who think there is only ONE way to do something and that way is their way! Narcissistic biggots. His reply to them is, "I didn't know there were any RULES for running..."

The man has a great sense of humor.

I learned a lot of great tips from him - tips for nutrition, form, shoes, physical training and mental training. It was worth every penny and worth the 250 miles to Waco. What a great running store to host Jeff! Thanks, On the Run Waco! You rock! Lots of gracious folks down there in Waco.

"If you want to run faster, you must RUN FASTER!" ~Jeff Galloway

"There are clubs you can't belong to, neighborhoods you can't live in, schools you can't get into, but the roads are always open." - Nike

Cornbread and sweet tea

2011-06-23T14:22:00.000-05:00

Memom at the beach - we always worked a puzzle

I am missing my grandmother, Memom, a bunch the past few days. I think what started it was a bowl of vegetable soup. Now that may sound odd for a bowl of soup to be the start of missing someone, but you have to understand that Memom made the best veggie soup in the ~~south~~ world. I was practically weaned on the stuff. My mother says that I used to sit in my high chair after she and my grandmother had gone to the Cash and Carry grocery store and scarf down the soup until I fell asleep. (Hmm....maybe another reason I have ~~thunder~~ muscular thighs.)

Of course any good Southerner knows that you don't eat veggies without a cake of cornbread. I don't mean cornbread that's yellow and sweet. This cornbread is cooked in an iron skillet on HIGH in the oven. It's stone ground WHITE cornmeal and all you add is buttermilk. It's not sweet a bit. Then you crumble the crunchy and soft goodness into your soup. It's so good, it'll make you wanna slap yo' mama! (Well, not really slap her, but love on her a bunch.)

Memom didn't just cook great fresh veggie soup. She made unbelievable cobblers (from scratch with no measuring), biscuits and chicken fried steak. She was a genius in the kitchen. She should have been as she'd been cooking since the age of 4. She said that she used to have to pull a stool up to the old stove so she could stir what she was cooking. She never had thick eyebrows because she said she singed them off lighting the oven when she was young.

She also made pear preserves. I've never known anyone else to make something like that! She and my grandfather (Papa) grew pears, apples, plums, grapes, scuppernogs and all manner of veggies. It was a whole grocery store produce section in the back yard!

I never learned how to make her veggie soup. I am so sorry that I didn't learn before she passed away. I always asked her how she made it and she would say, "Why hon, I don't have a recipe!" I don't know that she used a recipe for much of anything. And I have no idea how she made the pear preserves. Making jellies and jams is sure a lost art!

She also made the best sweet tea. I'm not a big sweet tea drinker anymore - I drank it when I was young and stopped when I went to college. EXCEPT I always drank Memom's sweet tea. It was heavenly. Just the right amount of sweetness with a squeeze of lemon juice. It certainly complemented cornbread and veggie soup even on a hot summer day.

Memom (Helen), my mom (Pat), and Papa (Wofford)

Wonder if when I have grandchildren, what I'll do that's special that they will always remember?

The little oak that could

2011-06-21T17:05:00.000-05:00

A mighty oak...June 2011

June 2009

I have a very special oak tree that lives at my house. It's in my front yard. It's not an unusual Texas variety of oak tree, but it's special to me because my father-in-law grew it from a small acorn and gave it to us not long after we moved in this house. We avoided planting it for the longest time because we were so afraid it would die.

But by keeping it in the pot, we were killing it slowly because it had no room to grow. It was "pot bound" as my grandmother would say.

So we made the decision about 4 years ago to plant it. And it has thrived beyond our expectations.

But I worried a bit about that little oak last night when we had a terrific storm that produced pounding hail the size of large marbles and winds that whipped up to 65mph and sustained for nearly 5 minutes. This storm went on for the better part of 2 hours around 2-4am this morning. I was afraid to take a peek outside this morning for fear I'd be in Oz! And even worse, I was afraid that the little oak would be pulled up out of the ground and sent swirling a few blocks in the neighborhood.

But it wasn't. Like a good soldier, there it stood at attention this morning...and unbelievably, still had a few acorns on it (now to prevent those crazy squirrels and birds from eating them and we could grow another oak).

See, my father-in-law passed away 5 years ago July. I think we would all be devastated if that little oak died. It's a special piece of "dad" that reminds us what a green thumb he had. It also reminds us of how much he loved Texas and the flora of this great state.

And it reminds me that when roots grow deep into the ground, it's hard to blow a tree over...even with 65mph winds. It reminds me that I want to be like that little oak that could...I want to be sturdy, strong and have roots that grow deep into the Father's heart. I want to abide in His greatness and mighty strength because when I don't, I can easily topple over with the slightest wind of difficult circumstances.

The little oak that could...and is...a mighty oak in process.

The little oak that could...May 2003

Newly planted oak...August 2007

Let your roots grow down into Him and draw up nourishment from Him, so you will grow in faith, strong and vigorous in the truth you were taught. Let your lives overflow with thanksgiving for all He has done. ~The Apostle Paul (Colossians 2:7)

Dad with Reagan and Grayson at Pearl Harbor, June 2004

Scooter

2011-06-16T21:07:00.000-05:00

My 6th grade teacher, Mr. Rifken, very aptly nicknamed me "Scooter" when I was in 6th grade (which was still elementary school for me - in Crystal Lake, IL). I loved Mr. Rifken. He was a smart teacher and he immediately recognized how amazingly talented I was. Ok, who knows if he realized that...but what he realized was that I was always darting from here to there to accomplish things.

I'm such a "doer." I always have a list of "to-dos" and very little time to rest. Even as a runner,there are days I hate having to have a rest day. I'd rather be out there running and sweating and accomplishing things. There's something about inactivity that makes me feel like I'm not getting anything done.

But what I'm learning, is that rest is good. And rest can be a place of learning.

I recently read a short devotional about Matthew 11:28 - "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest." (That's Jesus speaking those beautiful words.) What I learned recently was the meaning of the word "rest." In Greek, the original language of that passage, the word is "anapauo". It means "to cause or permit one to cease from any movement or labor in order to recover and collect his strength; calm and patient expectation." It seemed a little funny to me that "calm and patient expectation" did not sound like doing "nothing." It's actually doing something...calmly and patiently waiting. Recovering. Collecting strength.

All these things are exactly why a runner takes a rest day before a big run. It gives your muscles a break and prevents over-use injuries. Since I'm training for a marathon, I try very hard to follow rest days so that I don't over-train. It allows your body to repair and refresh and actually run faster and longer.

I'm in a place spiritually right now that is certainly a place of rest. Initially it seemed like I'd been placed in the "penalty box" for doing something wrong. But instead, I'm trying to reframe my outlook on rest and realize it's a place of hope and patient expectation. A place to refresh spiritually and to get to focus on God in a new way. A wise woman told me it was a "sacred time out" and not punitive punishment for something I'd done wrong. It's a gift of time and learning and rest.

I still am not sure what I'm supposed to be learning exactly, but maybe that's the point. Maybe it's not doing...it's resting in the One who does know the road ahead.

Now if I could just stop squirming in His arms.

The struggles encountered in solitude become hope, because our hope is in the real presence of God's healing Spirit in the midst of suffering. ~Henri Nouwen

Life under the Broom Tree

2011-06-13T20:28:00.000-05:00

Elijah, Mt. Carmel, Israel

Elijah killing the prophets of Baal (Mt. Carmel, Israel)

My life has been...well, not exactly great lately. I've mentioned that I struggle with some depression issues that have plagued me forever. I often get to the point of utter exhaustion (well, maybe it's the 103* heat here in Texas) and am lucky to make a decision on what's for dinner. I may joke about not wanting to cook, but I do seriously have trouble even making a simple decision when I get in this funk. It's frustrating for me as well as for my family.

But I write the above to give a bit of background on what I'm going to say and not to ~~find an excuse to drink wine~~ uh...whine.

I have been reading about Elijah from the Bible. Having been to Mt. Carmel and seeing the amazing views Elijah saw when he called down fire from heaven and put the prophets of Baal in their place, I find it amazing that he is just a mere mortal with feet of clay like me. Elijah had this amazing experience of showing God's power to these false prophets in the land of Israel. But right after that, he heard that wicked Queen Jezebel had it in for him (or is it "out" for him? Whichever, she wanted him DEAD).

So Elijah...exhausted and...yes...a bit depressed...wandered into the desert as far south as he could go. As a matter of fact, one commentator observed that he had wandered into the same area that the Israelites had wandered for 40 years due to their unbelief. Kind of an apropos place to be given his circumstances. He had just witnessed the amazing strength and power of God, yet he was frightened by a woman. (Not that Jezebel was exactly sweetness and light, but she was just a woman.) The Bible says that Elijah finally came to a Broom tree, sat down (probably fell down from exhaustion) and prayed that he might die. He told God (and I do love his honesty!), "It is enough! Now, LORD, take my life, for I am no better than my fathers!" Then he lay and slept under the broom tree... (1 Kings 19:4 and following). I read a comment by Chuck Swindoll that said it's funny that Elijah even mentioned his "fathers" (forefathers) because NO ONE had even compared him to them. Ah...the things we do when we are in a funk.

A broom tree. I've seen a broom tree. They are not exactly luxuriously shady and stately trees built for hammocks or picnics. They are rather scrubby and stubby and really kind of pitiful, but in a desert land, possibly the only shade available.

It's interesting that after he rested an angel touched him and said to "arise and eat". Elijah had been provided a fresh cake of bread and a jar of water. He ate and drank and fell back to sleep. This certainly indicates to me utter exhaustion and depression (trust me, I know what that feels like). The angel comes a second time, touches Elijah and gives him food and drink. But this time Elijah is told, "Arise and eat, because the journey is too great for you." And after that brief respite, Elijah went for 40 days and 40 nights.

What really strikes me about this story is that God is so tender with Elijah. He doesn't yell at him. He doesn't call him stupid or a failure. He simply provides for his basic needs and allows him to rest and refresh.

Right after that scene, Elijah witnesses the presence of God in a still small voice and God asks Elijah, "What are you doing here?"

I love that God waited to ask Elijah that question. I love that God didn't accuse him of being a wimp. I love that God was so gentle and loving towards Elijah. I love that I can understand how Elijah felt.

See, I've been living in the shade of the broom tree for a while. I haven't had an angel bring food and water, but I know that God has provided for me and is allowing me a time of rest. I know that at some point, He will ask me, "Lori, what are you doing here? You have much to do. The journey is great." But I know God won't ask that question until He knows I'm ready for it.

And right now, I'm just not ready for it.

So I'll lie here under the broom tree and wait and rest and trust in the tender God who knows my name and gives me strength to eventually come out from under the broom tree.

A broom tree in the desert

Listen to my prayer, O God, do not ignore my plea; hear me and answer me. My thoughts trouble me and I am distraught....My heart is in anguish within me; the terrors of death assail me. Fear and trembling have beset me; horror has overwhelmed me. I said, "Oh, that I had wings of a dove! I would fly away and be at rest - I would flee far away and stay in the desert; I would hurry to my place of shelter far from the tempest and storm."....Cast your cares on the LORD and he will sustain you; he will never let the righteous fall. Psalm 55:1-2, 4-8, 22 (Even David had his moments of utter discouragement and depression. I am in good company even if it's not where I want to be.)

Just a mom

2011-06-09T16:38:00.000-05:00

Speaking of graduation, I have officially been a graduate of University of South Carolina's MIBS class of 1986 for TWENTY-FIVE years.

That would be the "proper" way of saying I have a specialized MBA in international business. I think USC has now changed the alphabet soup from MIBS to something that sounds more like an MBA. I've spent the past 25 years explaining what a MIBlet was (or is). Twenty-five years. 25. That's not post high school diploma, or post college degree, but post master's degree. That makes me...old.

In honor of our silver anniversary, some ambitious MIBlets are planning a 25th anniversary reunion in Miami. (There weren't many of us that year...60 or so??) Since I had hoped our family would be planning a vacation somewhere together, I declined attending the gala affair in Miami (and seriously, going from Texas heat in July to Miami heat in July does not sound like an escape).

I received an email today explaining that for everyone attending or not attending, it would be nice to have a 1 page synopsis of what we've been doing for the past 25 years. That way we all can read about each other in advance and not have to re-explain the story of half our lives to each other multiple times. And also, for those of us, like me, who aren't attending, we can read about what everyone has been doing.

Therein lies my quandary.

What HAVE I been doing for 25 years? My post graduation plans to become VP of Sales and Marking for some multinational corporation didn't happen. I don't travel to and from Europe and conduct important meetings in German. I haven't come up with a fabulous marketing plan for widgets in the US, much less anywhere else in the world.

So what the heck have I been doing???

I am just a mom.

And if I had to say it to anyone, it would be done with a quiet, turn-your-head-away-and-look-down-at-your-feet type of voice. At least that's what I somehow imagine doing as I am sure to hear of those with fabulous jobs that more than paid for their expensive education and 2 years of hard work.

Yep, just a mom.

Why does that somehow sound like a job failure? (Cue the blinking lights on the word "failure." Hey, I like to be dramatic.)

The answer is, it shouldn't.

What I have done over the past 25 years is quite important. I've invested countless hours raising 2 amazing young men who both love God. Those of us who are moms know the time and effort involved in mothering, so I won't recount the many hats we all wear as we pursue excellence in our art. No need for a job description as, again, those of us who have done it, know that there isn't enough space on this blog site for my Mom resume. I chose to not return to the work force and to remain on the mommy track because my husband's job has always meant extensive travel.

It's not that I haven't done some other things along the way that are interesting and important, but my greatest accomplishment is raising children who will leave a legacy of my faith in God's love and grace by showing God's love and grace to their children and those who come after them.

Sadly, motherhood is the only job that we actually try to work ourselves out of. The goal is to be unemployed at some point. And even sadder to me, is that I'm almost there. And frankly, I'm not sure what I need or want to do next. (But that's a blog for another day.)

I don't know if I'll write a one-page synopsis of half my life in the trenches of diapers, sleepless nights, temper tantrums (from them not me...well, ok, me too), peanut butter kisses, thousands of pushes on a swing, bedtime stories that I've memorized, ~~cheating at~~ one too many rounds of Candyland, first days of school, soccer, music lessons, band shows, girlfriends, driving lessons, applications to university and arms always ready to hug the hurt away (even though I know I can't really make the hurt stop, moms still think we can). There have been days when I felt like ANYone could do my job and days when I've realized that NOone could do the job I've done. It's frustrating and gratifying at the same time. It's so many things that I never understood until I become a mom.

Here's a passage from one of my favorite books:

Before long, I will turn fifty. Soon, one son, and then the other will leave home. And I am overcome these days with a new sense of urgency about all of it. For years I have been caught up in the work of raising children, earning a living, turning pages on the calendar, checking items off a list. But time that once seemed to move so slowly has all of a sudden begun to go way too fast. Childhood doesn't last forever after all, nor does any season....I recall my younger, intensely ambitious self with a wince - how avidly I set my sights on the future and how hard I worked at becoming the person I thought I ought to be, in pursuit of the life by which I thought I could define myself. So many aspirations--for a rewarding career, security for my family, success for my children, a marriage that worked, and a life that mattered. I wanted it all. And I believe that if I nurtured those dreams, tried hard enough, and planned well enough, they would one day come true. The funny thing is, now as my children begin to pull away, it is the present moment that concerns me most. Yet try as I might to pay attention, I find myself confronted with all sorts of unexpected and conflicted emotions--pride in my sons, of course, and gratitude for what we've had, but also an almost heartbreaking sense of just how short life really is, and how incomprehensible. How in fact, life is not all about planning and shaping, but about not knowing, and being okay with that. It's about learning to take the moment that comes and make the best of it, without any idea of what's going to happen next. ~Katrina Kenison, The Gift of an Ordinary Day

So maybe I am just a mom and have been for almost 20 years. Maybe it has been rather ordinary. But this ordinary job has been an extraordinary adventure to me.

Schwitzing a bit is good

2011-06-02T16:17:00.000-05:00

I never mind running when I have such beautiful scenery! A little schwitz is good for the soul!

I was thinking about a multitude of things. So I guess this post is just a little of this and that as I sometimes do.

My younger son got his driving permit today. It was an hour and a half adventure in hell. The local DMV has some pretty nasty women who work in there. We got yelled at for not standing directly underneath a sign (we were just a step to the left away from being directly underneath). Wow. Sorry. But then again, some of the people in there had no clue why they were there or what to do. Many spoke very little English. The lady in front of us had marked she had been in a mental hospital. When asked, she finally understood and realized that no, she had NOT been in a mental hospital. Maybe if the DMV website were easier to understand, some of these problems would be curtailed. The lady sitting next to me said her friend in Southlake would drop by the DMV on her lunch hour and get her business done. Yeah, that wouldn't happen in Lewisville.

So now the adventure really begins. I really had not intended to do the parent taught driver's ed with bass boy, but because of his crazy school schedule, it just never worked out for him to attend a driver's school. So I guess we'll be starting with the parking lot basics in the next few days.

Schwtizing...sweating...profusely. It's only June 2nd and our temps already feel like July in Texas. I have the feeling it's going to be a long, hot summer. I just need to make sure I'm up early for my runs. It's not so bad at 7am out there. I'm training for a 15K (almost 10 miles) on July 10th. Luckily gun time is 7:30 am.

Bass boy is now half-way finished with high school. I seriously can't believe it. I am just not ready to start thinking about college options with him. I have the feeling it could be challenging.

Does anyone else feel the pain from the economy? When did everything get so expensive? I feel like we are falling further and further behind. I bought a head of broccoli today for $2.29. Crazy. Wasn't it just 99 cents a head not that long ago? I already shop at the bread thrift store to save some money. I guess I'm going to have to take up extreme couponing soon.

Taking care of an elderly dog is a full time job. It's sad and frustrating. Somehow I wonder if that's the way God prepares us to take care of elderly relatives. Not that I'm comparing my relatives to dogs, it's just that my dogs are family members to us and taking care of a 13 1/2 year old lab who's deaf requires an extra dose of patience and love even if I don't feel like it.

I have so much paper work that needs to be shredded or filed, it just might take me the entire summer to wade through it. Again, good enough housekeeping...some days I'd rather read a book. Or take a nap.

I've been enjoying reading some total fluff lately. I rarely indulge in fluff literature (is fluff even considered literature?). But it's been perfect for total escape. Seems I've needed that a lot lately.

I don't think that my 20 or 30 year old notion of what retirement looks like is going to happen. Craig and I've discussed that with the way the economy is going, we'll have to work until we are at least 75 so we can have health care benefits of some sort. I still think we should move to the Big Island of Hawaii and work at Wal-Mart or Costco and live in a cheap apartment for a few years.

There's so much I'd love to write about, but can't publicly discuss. Let's just say that nothing in this life is ever simple. Funny how life doesn't turn out how you expect it to. Sometimes that's good and sometimes it's really sad.

The saddest part of being a mother is that you strive to work yourself out of a job. I see it happening right under my nose. It's all slipping away very quickly...and I'm just not ready to let go.

And now, despite the temps, I think I'll go indulge in a cuppa joe. Nothing like a good cuppa Kona to bring the islands to the forefront of my mind.

Kinder than necessary

2011-05-30T15:47:00.001-05:00

Be kinder than necessary because everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle.

I tried to find out who is the definitive author of this great quote, but what I found was everything from Plato to James Barrie (author of Peter Pan) to T. H. Thompson to John Watson. I love the sentiment, but can't give accurate credit to the author (please let me know if you know for sure!).

I think lately I've been fighting more than my share of battles. Many that no one but those closest to me would even know about. But then again, isn't that true for most of us? We don't usually share those very difficult things that we wage war against.

I've been giving great thought to something I recently was told. The comment was "you are not spiritually mature."

At first I was pretty much aghast that someone would say that to someone who has been a Christ follower for about 40 years. But upon further pondering, I think the comment begs the question, "Compared to whom?"

I mean, aren't we all somewhere along the spiritual journey continuum? As far as I know, I haven't arrived yet. And the more I get to know God, the more spiritual things I realize that I don't know. Does that make me immature?

Paul says in Philippians 1:6 (loose translation) that God will complete the work He began in me. (Ok, so maybe I'm not totally mature by that definition, but I'm not finished with my journey yet.) The author of Hebrews said (6:1) "let us leave the elementary teachings about Christ and go on to maturity..." (Ok, on that count, I would call myself mature since I have pursued being an active disciple of Christ for many years.)

So which is it? And who is empowered to decide such a weighty matter? And what is the definition of maturity?

The way I see it, we can be mature about some things and possibly immature in other ways - depending on where God is working in our lives. I've seen this with people I have been in Bible studies with. But though I could see it, I would never think of actually telling them that they were immature in an area - how discouraging (and again, who am I to cast this judgment?!) As the above saying states, how about being kinder than necessary...do we really know what someone else is struggling against? Maybe their struggle isn't my struggle. That certainly doesn't make me more or less mature.

Be kinder than necessary.... not bad advice even if I don't know who said it.

*I should also mention that I'm not looking for validation by writing this. Just something I've been pondering for several weeks. *

Weeds and Wildflowers

2011-05-23T09:56:00.000-05:00

No wildflowers were harmed in the making of this photo**

I have enjoyed running a lot over the past few weeks. See, I run along a path where Texas wildflowers bloom. I usually have my phone with me (no, I do not text or talk while exercising - it's strictly for emergencies) and it has a pretty decent camera on it. So each day I run I take a picture of a wildflower. Some are ones I've seen a gazillion times and sometimes I find one or two that I've never seen.

I've got a little wildflower-loving cult following on Facebook (which is where I post my flower pictures). I am amazed who has even noticed that I've posted these little gems every other day. I've had some ask where I run. I feel sure that most imagine the field of wildflowers to be a beautifully green field profuse with flowers.

Not so. As a matter of fact, here's what it looks like. Actually the picture was taken after they had shredded the areas where there were no wildflowers or they had stopped blooming.

Yes, there really are LOTS and LOTS of wildflowers in there!

In order to find a new treasure, I have to look carefully among the tall grass and weeds. The flowers are not immediately apparent many times and it takes a sharp eye and a little diligence to find something other than a dandelion (no offense to the humble dandelion).

I am reading a book that I'm enjoying called One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp. I haven't read but about a fourth of the book, but I can already get a sense of her premise: it's about being grateful for God's gifts that we often miss everyday. It's seeing beauty in bubbles, flowers, trees, children laughing and anything else that makes you thankful to be alive.

Life is fairly...well...ordinary. And it's full of weeds and difficulties and if we aren't careful, we get stuck in the tall grass and off into the weeds and forget to look for the beauty in the midst of overwhelming situations. This has been a challenging thing for me...to be grateful for the small gifts I was missing each day (especially given the week I had last week). So when I run, I snap a picture of a flower that makes me happy and when I upload my running stats I state what I am thankful for...even if it's for the fact that my body can sweat when the weather is humid.

I don't have this thankfulness gig figured out yet...I'm still a recovering half-empty glass girl. But I'm trying not to get stuck in the weeds too long.

The highest form of prayer is to the goodness of God....God only desires that our soul cling to Him with all of its strength, in particular, that it clings to His goodness, for of all the things our minds can think about God, it is thinking upon His goodness that pleases Him most and brings the most profit to our soul. ~Julian of Norwich

(S)he who sacrifices thank offerings honors Me, and s(he) prepares the way so that I may show her the salvation of God. ~Psalm 50:23 (my pronoun change)

Daisies

Indian Paintbrush

Mexican Hats

The Duchess of Dysthymia

2011-05-16T09:10:00.000-05:00

A couple weeks ago, I watched Oprah interview Sarah Ferguson, the ex-Duchess of York. It was fascinating. I really didn't know a whole lot about her except that she royally screwed up her life (ok, sorry for the pun). I remember when she married Prince Andrew just shortly after Diana married Prince Charles. She seemed so happy and so funny. Everyone said she was like a breath of fresh air to the monarchy. But that breath of fresh air soon turned to a stink of scandal. I don't remember the details, nor is that my point in writing about her.

What I didn't know about her is that she came from a very troubled home life. Her father called her a "sheep's ass" all the while she grew up. Her mother NEVER told her she loved her. Sarah described her last conversation with her "mum". She called her and asked her to tell her she loved her. Her mother said, "Oh Sarah. Of course you know I do. Now I have to go to the store." And that not only was the end of the conversation, but the final words Sarah would have with her mother. Her mother left her home in her car, was hit by an oncoming vehicle, and decapitated.

That tragedy occurred just 1 year after Princess Diana's death. Sarah said that Diana had been her best friend since she was 14 years old.

She said more than once in the interview, "I had it all and I blew it."

That's a very hard truth to admit to yourself much less to millions of viewers watching the "tellie."

Oprah arranged for Sarah to counsel with Dr. Phil (some of that verbal exchange was hilarious) as well as financial guru, Suze Orman. Interestingly, Orman said, "Most people who have problems with money don't have problems with money. They have something deeper going on." She looked Sarah in the eyes and said, "I think you don't have money problems, I think you have self-worth issues."

Here's what got me...Sarah about came out of her seat and said, "HOW do I get self-worth? Just tell me and I'll do it!!'

Ahh....I am a kindred spirit with the ex-Duchess! You see, Dr. Phil had already told her she was an approval junkie. She was addicted to approval from others. And really, did it take Dr. Phil a PhD to figure that one out? Considering what her family of origin as well as dealing with the stress of being in the public eye for years, how could she NOT be concerned about what others thought of her? How many of us would react well to being called, "The Duchess of Pork" in every news publication?

If Orman offered Sarah any solutions, they weren't shown. I felt so for Sarah! You see, I am an approval junkie. I struggle with self-worth. I have been diagnosed with dysthymia (a persistent low-grade depression - makes you feel like you spend your life walking through molasses). There is a measure of desperation in my life each day as I try to deal with my own self-worth and being "happy." Many people do not understand this. In fact, by divulging my personal difficulties, like Sarah, I am opening myself up to others to use them against me (which has already happened). It certainly doesn't give me an excuse to be persistently pessimistic - I know that. But if you don't struggle with this CONSTANT cloud over your head, you could not possibly understand why I am not Pollyanna.

I am trying to focus on small blessings in my life. You know, those daily things that are good and gifts from God that we often miss because we are not looking. I am journaling and reading a book called, Come Away My Beloved by Frances Roberts. It's a book I've had on my shelves for years, but never had read. Here's a great quote (and yes, the language is a big archaic, but I find it charming):

Be content with what each day bringeth, rejoicing in thy God, for surely He it is who shall deliver thee and He it is who hath brought thee thither. Do not question and do not doubt. Each day holdeth some small joy that shall escape thee if thou art preoccupied with tomorrow.

So as I run (which also helps depression), I give up breaking speed records (ha, ha) to stop and take a quick wildflower picture. I post my running times/distance on my Facebook page, not to brag (and seriously, a 10 minute mile isn't anything to brag about), but to be accountable and to mention what I am thankful for during my run.

I wish I could speak with Sarah personally. She will never find self-worth in things or others. The only way she will find self-worth is knowing who she is because of Christ. A proper self-image is seeing yourself as God sees you, no more and no less. And He thinks she is a masterpiece (Ephesians 2:10) and He loves her so much that He gave His lifeblood for her. And as we sang in church yesterday, He also sings over her.

The LORD your God is in your midst, a victorious warrior. He will exult over you with joy, He will be quiet in His love, He will rejoice over you with shouts of joy. Zephaniah 3:17

Maybe my earthly father called me names and was verbally abusive (as was hers), but my Heavenly Father rejoices over me with SHOUTS of joy! Sounds like He's pleased with me. And if the God of all the universe is pleased with me (and the verse mentioned nothing that I did to deserve that), then that should be what my self-worth is based on.

...even if I have relearn this truth each and every day of my life.

..."but it doesn't matter"

2011-05-11T08:33:00.000-05:00

I learn a lot from the various things I read. I read a wide variety of books and stories (blogs, magazines, etc.)

Since I have gotten interested in running, I have been reading a lot of books, magazines, blogs about running. Though I know I will never finish a marathon sub 4 (under 4 hours), I do hope to at least FINISH one by the time I'm 50 (or shortly after I turn 50 depending on which marathon I finally register for). It still scares the tar out of me to think about running 26.2 miles, but there's something about the mind control that you have to engage in to run that distance that fascinates me and keeps me interested.

One of my favorite resources for running is a book that was recommended to me by several friends, "The Non-Runners Marathon Trainer" I have learned so much about not only running, but perseverance from the authors. Maybe that's the point of marathon running...perseverance and overcoming that which you don't think you could ever do. Last week I read a very interesting phrase, "...but it doesn't matter." It's a little phrase that can be used to help overcome whatever obstacle your mind throws at you when running. For instance, "Wow it's really hot and humid today..." Instead of ending the sentence there, the phrase, "...but it doesn't matter" is added to the end. Because really that's the truth. It may be hot and humid, but it doesn't matter because I'm still going to run today.

The authors contend that it really doesn't matter unless we believe that it does. "We can develop a view of ourselves that includes the idea that we routinely overcome whatever obstacle we face, we will, in fact, overcome most if not all of them."

What a great notion.

I am finding that this is a great phrase to add to many other negative thoughts and potential obstacles I face (whether real or imagined). It's a very empowering phrase that reminds me that I can overcome by staying focused on the task at hand....regardless of the naysayers and those who want to discourage me (and not just from running a marathon).

I'm asked frequently how I have managed to run with bad knees, bad feet, a separated shoulder, twisted ankle and an aging body. It's mind over (my) matter. Yes, I have bad knees, but it doesn't matter because I don't run every day and I can always ice them when I finish running. Yes, I have a frozen shoulder, but it doesn't matter because it doesn't bother me when I run. Yes, I am months from being 50, but it doesn't matter because I just read about a woman who started marathon running in her 80s! Yes, I'm not Pollyanna and never will be, but it doesn't matter, because God isn't finished with me yet and He created me to be exactly who I am. (See how it works for most anything you can think of??)

"What, then, shall we say in response to this? If God is for us, who can be against us?...in all things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us." Romans 8:31&37

Life is hard and people are hurtful, but it doesn't matter because God is for me and He loves me even if I'm not perfect.

Happiness is...

2011-05-04T17:08:00.000-05:00

When I was in elementary school, I loved Peanuts comic strips. I think I even had a little book I bought from Scholastic that featured good ol' Charlie Brown. As a matter of fact, I probably could find it in a box in my attic! (But enough about my hoarding tendencies...)

I remember a little single frame comic that said, "Happiness is a warm puppy."

I always liked that one because Charlie Brown - who tends toward the glass-half-empty personality was hugging his beloved Snoopy - man's best friend - who didn't care about half-empty or half-full as long as his supper came on time.

While I was running today, I was thinking about things that make me happy. It's not hard to find a little happiness as I run in "God's cathedral" (as Jill Briscoe so wonderfully called it). So I thought I'd list a few things that make me happy.

1. The smell of freshly ground coffee and a fresh brewed cup first thing in the morning.
2. Watching a variety of birds feed in the bird feeder in my backyard.
3. Running outside.
4. Seeing bunnies, roadrunners and wildflowers on my run.
5. Writing a really good blog.
6. Digging into a Bible study and discussing it with other women.
7. Listening to old school funk.
8. Reading a really good book.
9. Hugging my mom.
10.Having a clean house. (Yeah, this one rarely occurs.)
11.Watching my boys play music.
12.Costco shopping and hotdog lunch dates with my husband.
13.Random acts of kindness.
14.Getting into bed when the sheets have been freshly laundered.
15.Creme Brulee (bet you thought I was going to say chocolate!)
16.Running a race and crossing the finish line.
17.Teaching Bible study to young moms and seeing them "get it."
18.Using the good china for a special occasion.
19. Celebrating accomplishments that have been hard won.
20.Learning something new.

Ok...that's 20 things that make me happy and not one costs very much money. I tried to think of things that were simple joys to be thankful for as opposed to expensive joys that often don't make me as happy as things that are often free.

So there you go...a little list of happiness from a glass-half-empty girl. What makes you happy?

Royal Name-calling

2011-04-28T08:53:00.000-05:00

1981 Wedding of Lady Diana and Prince Charles

In case you missed the big news, there's a royal wedding tomorrow. Apparently the American public is enthralled with the spectacle that is costing $32 million to the British taxpayers. (And I've seen various numbers on this cost, so let's just say $32 million, give or take a few million either way to be fair.)

The happy couple have been living together for a number of years (again, take your pick on the number of years, but if I remember correctly, it was of the utmost importance that Princess Diana be a virgin even though Prince Charles was still having an affair with another woman, no judgment - just facts). It was a marriage based on expectations and not love.

The longevity of British marriages (royal or otherwise - as in the United states) is just not stellar.

Half the national news on ABC on Monday was about the Royal Wedding. While Diane Sawyer compared and contrasted Kate and Diana, there was a woeful lack of concern and reporting for killing that was occurring in Syria the same day (just to name 1 very tragic incidence in what should be world news).

With that in mind, I made a statement on Facebook (out of frustration from watching the news) about the Royal Wedding. I said, "And I should care about the royal wedding...why????" (Don't go looking for it as it became so heated, I have since deleted the thread.)

Ok. I get that it's a big deal across the pond. I get that her dress is probably (for sure!) far more fabulous than my wedding dress. I get that Price William will possibly be King one day (I say "possibly" because that was the plan for Charles, remember?? And I do remember another king who abdicated the throne for a woman). I get that it's an historical occasion and I get that weddings are something we women love because of the apparent romance surrounded by them. And I think it's certainly your choice to get up early, watch the wedding and sniff into your hanky because it's so romantic and grand. Or maybe you want to watch for the historical value of the pomp and circumstance (I saw Diana and Charles' wedding and it was grand.) Or maybe it's just a case of our fascination with those who are "celebrities."

Yes, maybe I'm a tad cynical based on the history of such grandiose galas that often don't end well in the long run. I think marriage is a lot of work and each milestone should be celebrated. I know some lovely people who certainly didn't spend even $1 million dollars on their weddings and have remained faithful for more than 50 years. I think that's a beautiful thing. And I love to go to a good wedding for 2 people that love each other and are committed before God to represent the mysterious relationship of His church and Christ. But I know many, many people who have been in miserable marriages with abusive spouses or with spouses who have been abandoned them for selfish reasons.

I was labeled as a "curmudgeon" because of my comments. Definition? "A Bad-tempered, difficult, cantankerous person." Not very flattering. I was not by any means trying to be difficult. And I did not make fun of nor call anyone names who said they choose to watch the nuptuals and cheer for the royal couple. I just said that it wasn't for me (for the above reasons). I said I was pragmatic - "pertaining to a practical point of view or practical considerations." I've lived a lot of life. I saw how things have turned out for many in the British Monarchy. A practical point of view does not seem to make me bad-tempered or cantankerous (especially when I was not criticizing someone else who held an opposite viewpoint).

So if I rained on your parade; I apologize. Enjoy the pageantry!

But please, don't call me names because I choose to enjoy a morning run tomorrow and revel not in excessive money spent, but in the simple beauty of some wildflowers and the sun coming up over the jogging trail!

The Scent of a Woman

2011-04-26T19:14:00.000-05:00

I wanted to entitle this "The ~~Stink~~ Scent of a Woman."

However, blogger wouldn't allow me to do a "strike-through" in the title. So there you go...you get a more pleasant sounding "scent".

I write my blogs many times while I run. I have my best ideas when I run. Unfortunately, I do not tote paper and pen, much less my computer, with me when I'm out for a little exercise. So I have to remember all my brilliant ideas when I get home and rehydrated.

Last week, I was out for an early evening run. I'm not an early evening person when it comes to running. I like to run in the morning - when it's cooler and when I haven't showered yet (trust me, if you had hard to handle hair, you wouldn't want to deal with it more than once a day). I'm always amazed at the people I pass who smell like a mixture of soap and shampoo when I'm sure I smell like sweat. I was noticing as I ran that there were some interesting scents along the way.

There was the sweet fragrance of honeysuckle in bloom. There was another sweet-smelling vine blooming - something I wasn't familiar with, so couldn't tell what it was. But the fragrance was lovely.

Then I turned the corner to the smell of goats. (Yeah, real, live goats. Don't we have city ordinances against livestock here?) Goats do not have a pleasant aroma about them. They stink. A lot.

About the end of my run, several middle school boys breezed past me on bicycles. As they passed, I caught a pretty strong scent of Axe. Or Old Spice body spray. Or something middle school boys use to ward off the stink after PE.

And then there's always the ubiquitous smell of dog owners who haven't done their "doody." (Ok, bad one, but I couldn't resist.) I find I have to look down a lot to make sure I don't step in anything stinky.

It was a fun diversion thinking about the different smells as I ran. My favorite? The smell of freshly cut grass!

But I was also thinking about a lesson we'd done in Bible study. I must admit, I approached this assignment with great trepidation and some deep, cleansing breaths. On the table were pieces of paper and the words: "My page of God's Epic Story." Scattered on the table were crayons - all new and in many colors. We were asked to draw a picture of what we wanted to leave on our page of God's Epic Story.

Oh. My. Gosh. I really would much rather be asked to exegete a passage and figure out each word in Hebrew and Greek and cross reference the entire thing with at least 3 other Scripture references. But instead, I had to (gulp!) draw.

And I did. (After I hyperventilated out of sheer panic because all I could think of was "EPIC FAIL".)

I drew a vial of perfume that contained the scent of Jesus (use your imagination - it was a representation). At the bottle opening I wrote my name and then many lines extending from the vial through my name and out to "others." The scent represented kindness, peace, joy, encouragement, love, acceptance, forgiveness, truth, knowledge, and humility. These are all traits I'd love to leave on my page in God's story.

I admit it, I fail miserably when I try to show these things in and of my own self. But when I let the fragrance of Christ flow through me, the essence of the divine is (I pray) a pleasing aroma to those running past me in life.

I just have to remember to let it be His aroma and not mine. I sweat too much and am afraid I just might stink.

But thanks be to God, who always leads us in triumphal procession in Christ and through us spreads everywhere the fragrance of the knowledge of Him. 2 Corinthians 2:14

Stolen quote

2011-04-23T20:32:00.001-05:00

"The bodily resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead is the crowning proof of Christianity. If the resurrection did not take place, then Christianity is a false religion. If it did take place, then Christ is God and the Christian faith is absolute truth." ~Henry Morris

What a thought-provoking quote from Morris! I saw it on a dear friend's blog and had to copy it. I love the Easter season. I love that I've been to Israel and can picture so much that occurred during that week in Jerusalem. I especially love the image of the empty tomb in the Garden Tomb where I've been blessed to experience communion twice.

He is risen! He is risen indeed!
Happy Easter!

The JOY set before Him

2011-04-18T15:13:00.000-05:00

"Evidence of the Resurrection" by Michael Belk

I have had a phrase rolling through my head all day...

For the JOY set before Him...

It's just a small part of a piece of Scripture in the letter to the Hebrews that describes Jesus and his mission to this earth as man. Here's the whole passage:

Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart. Hebrews 12:2&3

Joy. What an odd concept that someone facing shame and death for crimes that they had not committed would experience JOY. I have a hard time experiencing joy in even semi-uncomfortable situations, much less shame and false accusation. I am blown away by the fact that Jesus considered it a joy to endure the shame of the cross so that he could perfect me -- an oft tired and too frequently joyless woman. I struggle with finding joy in life every day even when things are going well. I am so easily focused on myself that my joy slides away with each whine of me, myself and I - the trinity of self-centeredness.

I'm thankful that God placed this passage from Hebrews in the Bible. It reminds me to FIX my eyes on Jesus - on the one who finished the work he came to do - to die for my sins - even my sin of self-centeredness. He reminds me to consider the one who endured so much so that I would endure no judgement.

I am entranced by a photographer I read about named Michael Belk. He has some beautiful pictures (one that I've posted on my blog) that bring Christ into focus in the 21st century. I hope you'll check out his website and his story. It's pretty amazing.

The joy of the cross. What a concept.

AWESOME!

2011-04-04T11:43:00.000-05:00

I had a friend recently ask me if it was ok to use the word, "Awesome" in my presence.

This does make me giggle because if you know me, you know I have certain buzz words that make me crazy. "Awesome" happens to be one of them. It originally stemmed from the barrage of contemporary worship music that used "AWESOME" for EVERYTHING. (I've written about this before, so don't want to bore you again.)

Anyway.....

I don't mind the word so much in terms of describing what can't be described any other way. God is AWESOME. He is. He's so far above my comprehension (and that's why He's God and I'm not).

I just finished my Precepts Bible study lesson for tomorrow and the word "awesome" ended up in my answer on the last question. "WOW! How truly awesome God is!" I have missed Precepts more than I realized. The format of the study makes me think for myself (I'm sure God has something to do with that). It doesn't give me pre-digested Bible study with answers after the questions. Some questions make me think so hard that I can't answer them immediately. And best of all, I don't even touch a commentary to do the lesson...I let Scripture interpret Scripture.

I was part of a Precepts group for 5 years or so and loved digging into the historical books of the Bible. You, know, those pages of your Bible that are CLEAN...Kings, Chronicles, Hosea, Joel, Amos...etc. I love that I have studied these wonderful writings and understand so much more about the New Testament because I understand the history of Israel. It makes me love God even more because I am constantly amazed by Him.

The study I am doing is the book of Esther. A very interesting historical book that never uses the name of God ANYWHERE in the book. Kind of funny, huh? But God's fingerprints are all over the story. There's no doubt in my mind that God is there as the stage director is in a play. Sometimes His voice is a mere stage whisper and other times, it's a SHOUT to the characters on stage who need to remember that He's there directing it all.

I really don't like history. Really. But I love history as it relates to the Bible. I am fascinated by how intricately woven the whole God-story is. In studying today's lesson, we had to go back and examine several other passages for historical context. One of the passages was Isaiah 45. Here's a bit of what made me shout "AWESOME!" in my lesson:

"I am the LORD, and there is no other; besides Me there is no God. I will gird you, though you have not known Me; that men may know from the rising to the setting of the sun that there is no one besides Me. I am the LORD, and there is no other, the One forming light and creating darkness, causing well-being and creating calamity; I am the LORD who does all these." (Isaiah 45:5-7)

God does not even have to be mentioned in the book of Esther for the reader to know it's very much a God-story. It is so apparent that SOMEone bigger than all the characters in the story is placing each and every one of them in the proper place at just the right time.

It just made me think that when my life feels so chaotic and haphazard, that somewhere there's meaning and a God who has placed me in a story at just the right time in history and for the purpose of showing me and others that HE is the LORD and there is no other.

Pretty AWESOME.

Last one there is a rotten egg!

2011-03-28T14:53:00.001-05:00

"Don't say, 'The last one there is a rotten egg' unless you're absolutely sure there's a slow kid behind you!." (from Really Important Stuff My Kids Have Taught me, by Cynthia Copeland Lewis)

So yesterday was a big day for me. I ran my first half marathon...yes folks, 13.1 totally amazing miles. I have been dreaming of this day since I registered in October just so that I would commit to actually doing it. I had to train through having no clue how to train (I had some friends and books for help), train with a separated shoulder which became a frozen shoulder, a bad mid-foot sprain that knocked out any type of on-my-feet activity for over a month. I started training in July and was only able to run maybe 5 minutes at a time on a good day. I ran 2 hours and 20 minutes yesterday (well, 2:15 since I took an untimely potty break at mile 11). I had made it up to 10.5 miles in early December only to sprain my foot and be immobilized for a month and then not be able to run for a couple weeks of ice and bad weather. By early February, I was back to training with only 7 weeks before the race. I was told not to even try it. I was heartbroken that it looked like my foot would not be able to take the pounding necessary to complete a half marathon. The most I had run before the race was 11.3 miles. Once.

But I persevered. And no, I didn't further hurt my foot and my shoulder is actually healed through some terrific Airrosti treatments.

Thankfully, I wasn't the rotten egg. I finished right in the middle of the pack. Actually, I was in the top 1/3 of those female finishers in my age group.

But then again, regardless of your time, if you complete a half marathon, you are a WINNER. That's no easy feat.

What did surprise me was what an emotional experience it was. I never expected to be so touched by so many who were running not just to achieve a goal (like me), but those who were running for someone. The race is a huge fundraiser for Susan G. Komen breast cancer research. Many who were running yesterday were running in honor of someone who they knew had either recovered from breast cancer or lost their fight to it. I saw the names of loved ones on the backs of runners.

Mothers and daughters ran together. Daughters and Dads ran together. Husbands and wives ran together. Some ran while pushing someone else in a wheelchair. One friend ran with another to celebrate a birthday. A couple of young women ran in memory of those moms who have had stillborns or miscarriages. I was so touched by these 2 beautiful women I shed a tear as I passed them and told them what a beautiful thing they were doing. I saw a group from Compassion International running to raise money for clean water in Africa. I saw a young woman who was running for someone who apparently had died in military service.

I have indelible pictures etched in my brain of precious girls and boys holding signs saying, "Run, Mommy, Run! My legs are getting tired!" And I laughed at the signs held by friends that were just downright funny. I was equally touched by those in the neighborhoods we ran through who stopped outside in 45* weather with their cup of Starbucks to clap for those of us crazy enough to be running. It was huge motivation to me even if I didn't know any of these people. It was just amazing to be part of something with so much energy that pulled me along those last few miles.

I thought about my precious grandmother, Memom, who had breast cancer and died a few years ago. I thought of my beautiful aunt, who is a breast cancer survivor. And I thought of the reason I even got the notion to run...my sweet niece, Elizabeth, who died just one short year ago (from being hit by a car, not cancer just to clarify). She was a cross-country runner and had scoliosis. She never complained about the pain. I decided if she could do it, so could I. I wore a necklace that had an "E" in the center with "Live, Love, Laugh" on the outside circle. (The necklace was made by Chick Lingo Signs. They made sure the necklace was ready extra fast so I could wear it in my race.)

The best part was seeing my sweet husband's face just before the end of the race. I knew I had done it. I. Had. Done. It. I smiled at first and then shed tears of happiness. This was a HUGE goal for me. I was grateful for legs that could run. Lungs that could breathe. A heart that could pump the way it was supposed to. I have never felt more alive. And grateful. And humbled.

And I truly felt like a winner.

(*And because I know you will ask...is my next goal a marathon? I have one picked out in Greenville, SC - my home town - on October 29th. I haven't registered, so I can't say for sure, but I have the feeling I will be running 26.2 miles sometime before my 50th birthday.)

Going for the bling, baby!

2011-03-23T07:38:00.000-05:00

Sunday is the big day for me.

It's the day I've trained for and waited for and planned for since October.

It's the Dallas Rock 'n Roll half marathon. 13.1 miles of pure running ~~megadeath~~ exhilaration!

Getting older and nearing 50 is hard (yes, I'm still on topic). So I decided that I needed a goal - a really hard goal - something I never thought I could do. Since I'm not a runner (well, I guess I am now), I decided a marathon would be a great goal. (What was I thinking??? I decided it last summer, so it must have been the extreme Texas heat that melted my brain.) A young lady at a local running store was fitting me for shoes last fall and suggested a half marathon that sounded like fun. (Really? Fun? Running till you throw up?) There'd be bands every mile to entertain you and the run goes through some beautiful parts of Dallas (yes, they exist).

Well, it sounded perfect.

So I started training. I ran a 5K for fun with Reagan in September. Then the Dallas Turkey Trot - 8 miles - Thanksgiving Day. Did the 10K Cowtown Run in Ft. Worth a few weeks ago. Pushed myself through an 11.3 mile run a couple weeks ago (just through my neighborhood). I've logged over 300 miles since August 29th when I started keeping track of mileage. And, well, here I am.

Today is my last day to run before the big event. Just a quick, easy 3 miles today. I might run or walk tomorrow and then rest 2 days. I'll need it. I may not get out of bed on Monday. (Just kidding. I have a hair appointment and I have to get rid of the gray.)

I'm not sure if I feel like cheering or throwing-up when I think about this race. I'm slow (9.5-10.5 min./mile). But my goal is not to win; it's to FINISH. It's never been about winning time-wise. Finishing this race is winning to me.

It's about that really cool medal that they place around my neck at the end of the race. I'm going for the bling, baby!

Ok, just kidding. (Kind of.)

But this is just a half marathon (as if I should apologize for running so few miles). I still plan on doing a marathon before age 50. I've got one picked out. I just got some serious training materials to follow. But I think I'll wait until after Sunday to commit.

The race starts Sunday at 8 am CDT. If you think about me on your way to church or while eating brunch, I'd sure appreciate the prayers. If you are interested in the route and little about the race click here. And as a little aside, the race benefits Susan G. Komen - a truly great charity.

~ "I run with my head, my heart and my guts, because physically I don't have a great deal of talent or ability. It's amazing though how far that can take you."

(quote from Lift Your Sole - a really great website!)

Charming and broken treasure

2011-03-18T20:52:00.000-05:00

I have a beautiful James Avery charm bracelet. I got my original one years ago for Mother's Day when the boys were very young. Both picked out something that represented them and added a couple charms that represented things I loved. Since I had the good fortune to work at James Avery for a year, I was able to add to my bracelet and it's quite full now. But I can still pick out those first charms which are so very special to me.

When I received that gift, Grayson (who was in elementary school at the time) was walking home from school and found what he liked to call "treasure". You have to understand that for Grayson, a rusted screw was treasure. I'm amazed how much treasure he's had stuffed away in his closet for years. Now it's all in the attic labeled, "Grayson's stuff." God knows what's in those boxes!

But I digress...

The treasure he brought home that day was a small silver charm. It was some type of dog with a bent leg. It was not an Avery charm, and the jump ring had been stretched and obviously pulled off of someone else's bracelet. He was excited that I could add that charm to my bracelet because it was, after all a dog, and I did, after all, like dogs.

I never put the dog on my bracelet. But I've kept it for all these years and came across it in my jewelry box yesterday. I was thinking about that little dog with the bent leg. It made me think of me a bit. Before you think I'm calling myself a dog, I need to clarify. The little dog reminds me that I'm a little like the little piece of metal - a little broken and bent in places, small and easily crushed, even pulled a bit out of shape in the wrong direction.

Funny thing, is that we are all much like that little dog.

And the sad thing is that we forget that about each other. We forget that we are each easily hurt and broken. We might have the potential to be shiny, but we still show quite a bit of tarnish through that outside veneer. We tend to become sharp-witted with each other when we don't look like what others think we should. If our leg bends to the left just a bit too much and not to the right, we just might be tossed aside as useless or ugly or completely wrong.

I've seen this in action this week. It's been a very interesting week watching people whom I respect point out a lot of faults of another person who doesn't exactly match up with what they think "right" and "good" should be. They have somehow forgotten that they are broken and bent in ways that require goggles of grace for the rest of us to see them as beautiful.

I never thought there was room on my bracelet for that little imperfect dog. But after much thought this week, I think I'll add it to my bracelet to remind me that I'm not so perfect. I'm bent and broken in so many ways. And I need to remember to offer grace to those to may not be so perfect either.

For you were called to freedom, brethren; only do not turn your freedom into an opportunity for the flesh, but through love serve one another. For the whole Law is fulfilled in one word, in the statement, 'You shall love your neighbor as yourself.' But if you bite and devour one another, take care that you are not consumed by one another. Galatians 5:13-15

God's Tattoo

2011-03-09T16:33:00.000-06:00

Mosaic of Lazarus being called from the dead - Church of Lazarus, Bethany, Palestine

Going DOWN into Lazarus' tomb

I've been reading several different passages in Scripture. One of my readings is in Numbers 26, which corresponds with my Bible reading in the Chronological Bible that I am trying to read daily. The passage in Numbers details the various tribes and their descendants. "The clans descended from Gad...Reuben..Simeon...etc." I got to the poor little tribe of Benjamin and closed my ~~eyes~~ Bible.

Today I began readings for Lent. The devotional for the day began in Matthew 1, which begins with "The record of the genealogy of Jesus the Messiah, the son of David, the son of Abraham;" (begat, begat, begat, begat). Pretty soon I was begat to death and couldn't remember why I was reading so many darn names. Who cared if Azor was the father of Zadok?

When I start reading similar types of material, I have to ask, "Why??" I believe that everything in the Bible is written for a reason and is useful for me - whether for correction or learning (2 Timothy 3:16). But I came up dry in my reason why (besides making that groovy little rhyme just now).

Today as I was listening to Alistair Begg (one of my favorite online teaching pastors - he sounds like Shrek - even better when he says the word, "Don-key."). He was talking about worship and Mary (of Mary, Martha and Lazarus fame), took her expensive bottle of nard (perfume) and poured it over the head of Jesus. Of course this created a hub-bub at the dinner table since the perfume was worth a year's salary and certainly was all the earthly treasure that Mary had. But what really grabbed my attention was that the Scripture says, "wherever the gospel is preached in the whole world what this woman has done will also be spoke of in memory of her."

Wow! Here I am in 2011 listening about the selfless act of a woman named Mary who lived in Bethany over 2000 years ago. (Indeed the Bible is true.)

And it hit me.

Our names are important. Our names are associated with who we are and what we have done. Our names are so important to God that He has a tattoo of my name on His palm. (And you thought tattoos were so edgy!) "Behold, I have inscribed you on the palms of My hands..." (Isaiah 49:16a).

God has even given the stars a name and He knows each and every one of them! (Isaiah 40:26) Hey, I'm lucky to find one star and know it's name.

One more name...Lazarus. When he became sick, the message sent to Jesus by Martha and Mary was, "Lord, behold, he whom you love is sick." (John 11:3b) Lazarus' name wasn't even mentioned. But Jesus knew whom the one He loved was. He even knew the outcome of the sickness...that it would not end in death, but for the glory of God. (verse 4)

An odd collection of stories, huh? God knows I love a good treasure hunt. And I feel like that's what He sent me on the past few days.

God has inscribed on the palm of His hands a story of His glory. Names of many whom He loves. Names of many who worship Him with a part of themselves. Names of those who are part of His glorious plan to bring a Savior to rescue the lost and unlovely. Names that may not mean much more to me than a couple of begats, but yet names that are all about Him and HIS-story and the fact that He allows us to participate in this story with Him.

See, it's not about me. It's about Him. It always has been. It always will be. But somewhere in there, I matter because He's tattooed me on the palm of His hand and knows me by name.

Beautiful.

Jumping Ship

2011-03-08T12:36:00.002-06:00

How did I go from crazy busy to enjoying afternoon naps? I'm lucky to read 2 pages of a book without falling asleep. When did I become ~~geriatric~~ so tired? Don't get me wrong, I enjoy the down time and the naps, but I FEEL like I should be doing something more productive. Sure, I'm cooking, cleaning, chauffeuring, reading, being mom, wife,training for a half marathon, etc., but I just don't feel especially useful. I feel a little stir-crazy.

I believe that we were all created to do something. Maybe not something as noteworthy as winning a Nobel prize (doesn't keep peace between siblings count for something?), but something that utilizes gifts and talents that God has blessed you with.

As usual, I'm reading multiple books. Crazy, I know...but I am slightly ADHD and I feel the need for a book for every mood should that mood strike. Recently while waiting for Grayson to rehearse at Bass Hall, I was enjoying a cup of coffee and cheesecake (no wonder my hips keep expanding) at Barnes & Noble. Now that I have a Nook reader, I feel like a kid in a candy store (chocolate candy, of course) because I am able to sit and sample any book available in e-reader format.

This can be good and bad. It's good because I can easily determine if a book is "buy"worthy or if it's not. Bad because if it hooks me after the first chapter or two, I have to buy it so I can read it at home. Thankfully, I have a hefty gift card to Barnes & Noble from Christmas! I started reading The Gift of an Ordinary Day: A Mother's Memoir by Katrina Kenison. Here's a quote from the first chapter that really grabbed me:

"As writer Phyllis Theroux observes, 'We set off like captains of clipper ships outfitted with the latest gear and tackle to race across the ocean. Then, somewhere midcrossing, we realize that the expedition is essentially beyond our control. That time coincides with children becoming adolescents. Adolescence is a mutinous, confusing time when everybody is trying to get off the boat.' Not many of us actually jump ship. but the fact is, midlife - which hits most parents just about the time our children are hitting their teens - finds a fair number of restless, graying seekers out charting new courses, often through unexpectedly rough waters. Whether we choose change or it chooses us, the only thing we can know for sure is that security of any kind is an illusion. The life we know is always in the process of becoming something else."

The life we know is always in the process of becoming something else. Profound. At least I'm not the only one who wants to jump ship on this 3 hour tour that is making me sea-sick.

The author kindly presents this mid-life crisis as "transformation." She goes on to say:

"I recall my younger, intensely ambitious self with a wince - how avidly I set my sights on the future and how hard I worked at becoming the person I thought I ought to be, in pursuit of the life by which I thought I could define myself. ....life is not all about planning and shaping, but about not knowing, and being okay with that. It's about learning to take the moment that comes and make the best of it, without any idea of what's going to happen next."

And she nails it for me. I have no idea what's going to happen next. I see my boys needing me less and less. I see things that used to be so important as much less of a priority now. I have time to give, but no clue what to give it to. I want to bloom where I'm planted, but right now, I feel like a wilted dandelion in a bunch of Texas clay soil.

A view to a thrill

2011-03-03T18:00:00.001-06:00

I feel as if I should apologize for what I'm going to admit.

You can't mandate Bible study. You can't. You just can't make people want to do it.

It's the proverbial leading-a- horse-to-water-and-you-can't-make-him-drink thing.

A couple years ago when I was considering applying to Dallas Theological Seminary, I was speaking with one of the professors. I was sharing with her about my love of digging into Bible study and mentioned that I couldn't believe others who came to Bible study didn't want to do the same.

She looked at me and said, "Lori, you have to understand, not everyone has the passion for digging into the Bible and studying it as deeply as you and I do."

She's right. And what she said is not wrong. It's ok if deep Bible study isn't your thing. It's ok if you don't care what the word means in Greek and Hebrew. It's ok if hermeneutics sounds like Herman Munster to you and you could care less what the difference is. Really.

And there is a downside to loving Bible study. Sometimes I can get so involved that I love the academics of Bible study more than I love the author. Sometimes I can know the right answer but have no idea how to apply the truth. I can tell you where a verse is pertaining to a subject and still not really believe deep in my heart that what God says is trustworthy.

Kind of yin and yang.

Recently a friend asked me about a new book coming out from a popular contemporary author. There's a lot of controversy surrounding this book release - mainly, that the author doesn't believe in hell. I can't say what the author believes as I have not read the book yet. (And I think that the whole controversy is marketing brilliance.) But I've read my share of articles about the controversy over the past couple of days. I've come across words like "universalism" and "annihilationism". My head has been reeling from the theology that I realized I had never studied in depth.

And it makes me want to study more. And it makes me realize how much I don't know. But who wants to discuss such over-the-top deep theological concepts with me? Yeah, no show of hands on that one!

And all this makes doing regular Bible studies so boring to me. Don't get me wrong. There's nothing boring about salvation, the Trinity and the incarnation. I doubt that I could even come close to explaining how God could become man - except that He's God and can do whatever He wants. Those are lofty concepts that better minds than mine have been trying to explain for hundreds...thousands of years.

But what really drives me nuts is doing a study that asks me to do ridiculous things like draw a picture. Or doodle my feelings of my love for God. Or present a question only to answer it in the next sentence. And yes, I realize, there are people who really dig these types of studies. I just don't care for these types of studies. I want to really wrestle with the Scripture...to really delve into it and see what it means - even if there's no for sure answer. I can't believe that I'm the only one out there who wants more.

Your words were found and I ate them, and Your words became for me a joy and the delight of my heart. Jeremiah 15:16a

We eat our own, don't we?

2011-03-02T09:29:00.000-06:00

I'm officially ticked. (Not that all the economic bad news isn't enough to make me ticked and worried to boot.)

I'm frustrated with my tribe. That would be my tribe of Christian brothers and sisters. When did we become so elite that we have become equal with God and able to judge the hearts and minds of men and women?

I recently heard from a dear young woman who had been told some years back that she was going to hell. I have no idea why that lot was cast about her, but let me just say that I think that's pretty presumptuous. It almost sounds like those who made the pronouncement were gloating about their eternal security and her lack thereof (or at least what they thought). I don't know that any of them offered any compelling solutions to how she could change her destiny. I'm guessing from what she told me, the solution had something to do with her goodness or inability to be "good."

Here's a newsflash. I'm not good either. Nor will I ever be good enough. Nor will you. Nor will Billy Graham. Nor will anyone who THINKS they are good. You can't build a ladder of good works to get you to heaven.

Since when has "good" been a requirement for heaven? Or for that matter, when has being "bad" been a sentence to hell? (and yes, I do believe in hell, but that's a discussion for another day.) And I don't believe that God "sends" people to hell.

What I do believe is that we are eternal beings. We are going to spend eternity somewhere - either with God in what He calls "heaven" or eternally without God in what He calls "Hell." I don't believe He makes that choice. I believe that we decide our future. (Yeah, I know, there's lots of theology involved here, but I'm trying to keep it simple otherwise, I'll get in over my head really fast with theology that greater minds than mine have debated.) I think the choice is based on a very simple recognition that I'm not good (in comparison with God). I believe He loves me (as He does all mankind) and pursues us all to have a relationship with us - not because He "needs us" but because He loves us. I mean truly - unconditionally - loves ALL of us. And He loves us not because of a single thing we did nor will do. He loves us because of WHO He is. He is the embodiment of love. He can't separate Himself from who He is and cannot stop being who He is.

He will never love me any more than He loves me today. Right now. This very minute. And NOTHING I can do will change that...even if I don't want to have a relationship with Him. His love does not stop, but there are consequences to choosing to live without Him. The consequences are just that...living without Him...forever.

You may not agree with me. That's ok, I can deal with disagreement. But what I do know is that if you truly want to know if God is real and if He loves you, I can promise you, He will show you. Then you won't have to believe me...you can believe Him. The One who made you in His image.

And this is eternal life: (it means) to know (to perceive, recognize, become acquainted with, and understand) You, the only true and real God, and (likewise) to know Him, Jesus (as the) Christ (the Anointed one, the Messiah), Whom You have sent. ~Jesus, John 17:3 (Amplified Bible)

Losing Focus

2011-02-28T14:59:00.000-06:00

Florence May Chadwick

There's a great story about a very famous swimmer.

Of course, you may never have heard of her. But she is famous. Her name is Florence Chadwick. She was born in 1918. She swam the English Channel in 1950 in 13 hours, 20 minutes which broke the previous record held by another American swimmer. She actually did it again, but swam the other direction making her the first woman to swim the English Channel in BOTH directions.

In 1952, Chadwick set out to swim the 26 miles between Catalina Island and the California coast. She was accompanied by small boats whose purpose was to watch for sharks. After FIFTEEN hours of swimming, a very thick fog rolled in and Chadwick told her mother (who was in one of the boats) that she didn't think she could make it. She was pulled into the boat and later realized that she was only ONE MILE from the destination.

Chadwick became so focused on the fog and not being able to see the end, that she gave up. She gave up not because she was not able to swim the rest of the way, but because she could no longer see her way. She lost focus.

Wow.

I was thinking about this on Saturday during the race. I'm not very familiar with Ft. Worth. My iPod sensor wasn't working, so I had no idea how far I'd run, nor how fast, nor how much further I had to go. A couple of times, I thought about walking because it felt like I had already run so very far. I was ~~a wimp~~ tired and thirsty. However, just as I was ready to walk a bit, I could see the balloons at the finish line. What motivation to keep going! Despite being tired, I chugged along to the end and crossed the finish line and completed the race. So maybe I wasn't the fastest woman out there, but I was one of the happiest. I completed the race in a time I was proud of and faster than the average female racer. That's something for someone who isn't what I would call a competitive runner.

As Paul Harvey would say, here's the "rest of the story" about Florence Chadwick.... Just 2 months later she attempted the same swim from Catalina Island. The same thing happened - a thick fog rolled in before she finished. But this time was different. She finished well. When asked why, she said that she kept a mental image of the shoreline in her mind the whole time she swam.

Chadwick was smart. She kept the end in focus.

It's easy to lose focus when foggy circumstances mar our view of what we are trying to achieve.

I love this story! It reminds me that my vision often gets fogged up by forgetting the goal of finishing well. Finishing doesn't mean I have to be the best or the strongest to cross the finish line, it just means I have to finish and not give up. And it helps to remember that I never run this life-race alone.

Therefore, since we have so great a cloud of witnesses surrounding us, let us also lay aside every encumbrance and the sin which so easily entangles us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfector of faith.... Hebrews 12:1-2a

Competing with horses

2011-02-24T16:22:00.000-06:00

Call me crazy, but I was out there running this morning in the misty rain. 4.75 soppy, humid miles. By the end, my hair had taken on a life of it's own. It somewhat resembled Bozo the clown - flat on top and sticking out on the sides.

And I loved it. (The run, not my hair.)

I wasn't trying to prove a point (although for a high maintenance girl like me, running in the rain is pretty hard core). What I was trying to do was train. It was just another day of doing what I needed to do so that I will be ready for the half-marathon I'm running March 27th. And to be ready to run a 10K on Saturday (sounds far, but it's only 6.1 miles - did I just say that? ONLY 6.1 miles???).

As I was running I was thinking about the art of consistency and preparation. I have been preparing to run 16.1 miles for MONTHS - since last July - barring the month I was off running because I hurt my foot. The average person doesn't just jump up off the couch and trot 16 miles without working up to it. Some days I would much rather sip coffee and read a book rather than run - especially when the weather is less than favorable.

While on the last half mile today, my always entertaining and stream-of-consciousness brain immediately kicked-in with thoughts of Jeremiah the prophet and a verse I had read:

If you have run with footmen and they have tired you out, then how can you compete with horses? Jeremiah 12:5a

Poor Jeremiah had been running a difficult race trying to get Israel to come back to God and repent of their sins. He didn't have a very successful ministry. So Jeremiah asked God (the same thing I ask myself after about 4 miles of running), "HOW LONG?" How long is it going to be this way, God? When will this race end? I'm tired!

Wow. I get that.

God basically told him, Jeremiah...if this little footrace has made you tired, what are you going to do when the competition heats up? It is going to get worse before it gets better.

Really some great applications from such a short verse! I've done pretty good with being consistent at running and preparing for my race in March. I think I'll do fine. But what other areas of my life have I not been so consistent?

It hit me like a brick wall.

Personal Bible study. Funny how that's the first thing to go by the wayside when life gets easy...when the pressure cooker of problems stops heating up in your life. I'm going through a really dry stage right now. Everything I read seems to just say nothing to me. I feel like I've read it a gazillion times and am looking at the pages saying, "How long, God? How long till I get some little tidbit to chew on?"

It's like preparing for a race. It takes discipline even when it's less than fun. Even when you run your heart out and don't run faster than the day before. Even when you run and you can't see the end in sight. Even when the footrace wears you out and progress seems unobtainable. Consistency...rain or sun...cold or hot...day after day.

Bible study is the same way. How can I deal with life when the pressure cooker heats up and I haven't been consistent in my walk with God?

Funny how a humid day of running can teach you something about your faith walk.

Blogging for books

2011-02-22T17:58:00.000-06:00

In my perpetual quest to figure out what I want to be when I grow up, I decided to try something new. I've signed up with a couple of websites to read and review books. I then will post the review on my blog as well as post a review on a book-selling site (like Amazon.com). My first book arrived today.

Can I just say that I'm very excited?

I'm also thinking about doing a blog make-over. When I started writing my blog, I used the address of "Schweersmomshouse" because my older son was in middle school and everyone knew me as "Schweers' Mom." Funny thing, but middle schoolers do grow up and actually move on to college. I doubt anyone at UNT would call me "Schweers' mom" nor care that the 9 O'Clock drummer is my son.

So maybe a change is in order. I'd like to work on getting more "hits" and readers. I know...that means actually writing something interesting. (Which I can do if I really work at it.)

“The greatest gift is a passion for reading. It is cheap, it consoles, it distracts, it excites, it gives you knowledge of the world and experience of a wide kind. (Elizabeth Hardwick)

Down and out in suburbia

2011-02-21T09:33:00.001-06:00

Most of my readers know I struggle with depression. I go through bouts of being in the pit trying to claw my way out and bouts of being mostly out to where I can tolerate life around me. It's not the life I would choose nor wish upon anyone. It stinks. I've spent years of my life trying to figure out why I'm depressed - not just "blue" and a little sad, but seriously depressed. I've tried most every treatment known to man (except electroshock therapy - sorry, I'm a little averse to pain).

I wish there were a magic bullet to make it better. Some days it's hard to even drag myself out of bed and even try to function. It's hard to wear the facade of a smile and act like everything is just peachy.

I can self-analyze like nobody's business. I can spout theories about codependency, GABA receptors, serotonin, endorphins, and an alcoholic father. But unfortunately scholarly musings do nothing to get me out of the pit. In case you were wondering, I could probably point to every Bible verse teaching the converse of being depressed and still it doesn't always lift my spirits.

I don't share this to draw sympathy. I share because sometimes just writing my thoughts and struggles helps me crawl out of the pit.

It seems that this fog of blue crept in about 2 weeks after I quit my job. I find myself in a position of not knowing exactly what I'm supposed to do next. I feel mostly like a failure in that I never reached so many personal goals I had as a woman in her 20s. I find myself staring 50 in the face and know that the years are short and feel very much like my best years are behind me. Don't let anyone kid you, aging is HARD and it ain't for sissies.

I don't have an answer to offer. I don't ask for an answer to my tears. All I can do is put one foot in front of the other and walk on.

Bless the LORD, O my soul, and forget none of His benefits; who pardons all your iniquities, who heals all your diseases; who redeems your life from the pit, who crowns you with lovingkindness and compassion; who satisfies your years with good things, so that your youth is renewed like the eagle. Psalm 103:2-5

Critical or correct?

2011-02-14T16:56:00.000-06:00

At a recent visit to Pei Wei, I opened a fortune cookie to reveal a thought-provoking "fortune". Well, it wasn't actually a fortune as much as a proverb.

It's easier to be CRITICAL than to be CORRECT.

When I shared my "fortune" recently with a good friend over breakfast, she commented that she's critical because she is correct! I have to admit, that was my first thought, too.

I have been observing this critical/correct phenomenon in my own life of late. Truly, it's not just in my life, but in LIFE in general. Just bring up a topic - any topic - music, church denominations, movies, child-rearing, birthing, relationships...and we all have very strong opinions. And most of the time we tend to be critical of other's opinions that don't match or reflect our views.

Are we correct to argue minutiae? Or are we just critical? Or is being critical a negative behavior? Is it really important to criticize someone else's deeply held beliefs or to be correct (even politically correct) and say nothing?

Tough one.

I don't mind debating a controversial issue. However, there are many hot issues I avoid on my blog and Facebook status because it serves no purpose to debate with others who will never see your point. And many times, being critical just alienates those you are engaging with in k~~nock-down-drag-out war~~ enthusiastic conversation.

Try it sometime...drop a big ol' controversial bomb into a conversation and see what happens. Will you be critical of other's opinion or correct in saying the right thing?

A fool does not delight in understanding, but only in revealing his own mind. Proverbs 18:2

Paint on my Walls

2011-02-14T11:49:00.000-06:00

Hey blog readers, I just added a new blog link that I love. Please check it out...she's a very talented artist and is blogging about her faith journey and features her art with each post. You'll love it!

Paint On My Walls

Slip sliding away

2011-02-02T21:07:00.000-06:00

I may not speak like I've ever lived north of the Mason-Dixon line, but many years of my childhood were spent in Illinois, Ohio, and New Jersey. From first grade through 7th grade my family lived here and there in the Chicago area, Cincinnati area and Newark area. I have some fond memories of snow days "up north."

One of my fondest memories of snow days was when we lived in Illinois and we went tubing. This involved a very long hill at a local park and some extremely large inner-tubes. We actually did this activity for field trips. Can you imagine the legalities of doing something like that now? First, you would flop on the inner-tube and someone would shove you down the hill for a slippery journey. Sometimes we could put 4 people on an inner-tube at once. Amazing that we could play outside for hours in sub-freezing temps until we couldn't feel our feet or fingers.

I don't remember many days of school being canceled. I walked to school in elementary and middle school..in the snow...even when it was freezing cold. I can remember snow pushed up on the sidewalk so high I couldn't see the street. And strangely, I don't remember hating the cold.

My mom creatively made snow into a delicious concoction called "snow ice cream." She would take a large bowl and big spoon outside and scoop up a huge mound of fluffy snow. She would add canned evaporated milk, sugar, and vanilla. Wow...what a treat!

I think snow days as a kid were way more fun than as an adult.

(And yes, I know...the cartoon doesn't really have much to do with my fond childhood memories of tubing. But it did make me laugh. Maybe it's the effect of being cooped up for 2 days...)

365 Project

2011-01-26T19:03:00.000-06:00

I've jumped on the bandwagon for the 365 picture project. I've added the link to my project in my "favorite links" section of my blog. Hope you'll check it out sometime!

The Road Behind

2011-01-25T16:33:00.000-06:00

Now that I'm no longer a working stiff (at least not a paid one), I've been trying to reorganize what has been so disorganized over the past year or so. Job one has been to reorganize all the papers that seem to have accumulated in little piles here and there all over the house. You'd think I was Gretel leaving piles to find my way back to the upstairs computer!

Yesterday I sifted, stacked, filed, shredded and examined a year's worth of ~~junk~~ necessary documents. What was interesting is that it was a somewhat difficult walk through the past year of my life. If you've been keeping up with the Schweers' house, you know the last year has been anything but a cakewalk (does anyone do a cakewalk anymore or am I that old?)

The trail of papers led me through many cards from friends encouraging me during some difficult days. Cards from my mom reminding me of her love. Cards from friends saying that they were thinking and praying for me. Cards of sympathy when my niece died. The trail went through many medical explanation of benefits documents that reminded me of the past year. I saw in several of them God's grace and mercy and how he spared our family of a potentially devastating situation. I found lots of papers from my job that reminded me of the provision that God gave our family during a season of drought. A job that didn't pay much, but gave us much needed medical benefits and gave me a ministry I never expected. I found our first financial planning statement that showed just what we started with in our nest egg 18 years ago. It was nice to see how the nest egg had grown and allowed us to weather several financial storms. I found my running bib from the Thanksgiving Turkey Trot and remembered the big smile I had on my face when I ran that very cold day a couple months ago. (And no, I didn't throw it away! I just might frame it!)

The trail of papers reminded me of the road behind. It reminded me so clearly of God's faithfulness to my family. Yeah, bad things happened. But God was there in the midst of the bad. He was there in the midst of the good. He was there.

Today I found a card I had kept at my kitchen sink. It's been splattered with water and somewhat faded from the sun, but it was a lifeline for me for almost a year. It said, "Faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see. Hebrews 11:1" It was from one of the gals in a prior Bible study. Some pretty good traveling words, I must say. Especially on a long, dry road that seemed like it would never end.

Those who sow in tears will reap with songs of joy. Psalm 126:5

Woodshedding

2011-01-21T15:42:00.000-06:00

Reagan's very compact practice room at UNT

Drummer son's status a few minutes ago on Facebook was Woodshedding it in room (xyz).

Gotta love that boy! But I'm sure incredibly proud of him, too. Yesterday he found out that he made the 9 o'clock lab band at University of North Texas.

I posted my excitement on Facebook and got lots of kudos for my kid, but questions about what the heck an o'clock lab band is.

Fair enough.

UNT is one of the top 3 jazz music schools in the NATION. (Yes, really. All that greatness just 20 minutes north of my house.) Their premier small bands are the lab bands, also known as "big bands" if you are more familiar with that terminology. At UNT, they have the 1 o'clock through 9 o'clock (with every o'clock in between). In the 1-3 o'clocks, there is 1 drummer and the rest have 2 drummers. That means that to get to play with one of the bands you have to be one of the top 15 drummers at the school. FIFTEEN. The competition includes doctoral students, graduate students and undergrad students and also any student outside of the music department that would like to try out. STIFF competition. I have been told that the name of the group comes from the time that they rehearse - ie, 1 o'clock, etc. However, (and thankfully) the 9 o'clock rehearses at 7pm.

In order to even try out, you have to go through a very difficult audition of sight-reading charts of different styles of jazz music. If you make it past that, then you can sit in with one of the bands and play with the big boys.

Did I mention that the 1 o'clock lab band has won grammys in the past?

I am one proud mama.

You also may not know that Reagan has lived with insulin-dependent diabetes since he was 12. He has to constantly monitor his blood sugar and count his carbohydrates anytime he puts food or drink in his mouth. He has to account for what exercise, stress, sleep, sickness, etc. will do for his blood sugar. If he experiences a blood sugar low below 60, his brain function can actually be affected for the next 24 hours. It's a delicate balance. So when the adrenaline kicks in for an audition, his blood sugar is likely to spike upwards.

He took 11 classes last semester and 9 this semester. He's in the Honor College and is a Jazz Performance major. He also has to commute to school every day. I have no idea how many hours he 'sheds it (practices) in his very tiny practice room. I had no idea how hard a music major had to work. I thought it would be easy.

Congratulations, Reagan! I am sure proud of all your hard work and dedication. But most of all, I love your passion for your art.

Reagan drumming (from his senior pictures)

Listening to His voice

2011-01-20T08:06:00.000-06:00

I need to offer up a caveat to my musings today. I'm not an expert on the voice of God. I'm an avid listener - most of the time - but I don't know if I can truly explain how to know the voice of God from my own voice that speaks constantly in my head.

Yesterday when I turned on my iPad and went to Facebook, the first thing I saw was a Bible verse: In the morning, O LORD, You hear my voice; in the morning I lay my requests before You and wait in expectation. Psalm 5:3.

Was that God's speaking to me? I think so. You see, yesterday was a big day for my drummer son who had a huge audition. This verse was not about HOW God was going to answer my prayers, but it was a reminder to ASK and to know that He heard me and was working in the situation regardless of outcome. At least, that's what I got from it.

During the morning as I was cleaning, I had an old hymn playing on the iPod in my brain...

O Worship the King, all glorious above, and gratefully sing His

wonderful love; Our shield and Defender, the Ancient of Days,

pavilioned in splendor, and girded with praise.

So maybe hymns aren't your thing, but they speak to me. Somehow through all my years of going to church, I have stored up many lovely words about God in my heart in the form of hymns. The words bring comfort to me and remind me of WHO God is. Shield...Defender...Ancient of Days...King... It was a reminder to me that the prayers I had offered up that morning (and all during the day) for my son were going right to my Shield and Defender, Redeemer and Friend (from the 4th verse).

I think that God speaks to us more freely than we realize. We somehow make it harder than it should be. We look for answers that really aren't the point. We look for God to answer if we should do A or B, when in fact, He just wants us to depend on Him whether we do A or B. He gave us Himself in the form of the Holy Spirit to live in us and to be our Helper and Teacher. How could He not speak to us?

God speaks to me through song. Through Scripture. Through others. Through His created world. And so many times He speaks when I am silent and still. Therein lies the problem with us all. We don't take the time to read His Word. We don't take the time to be still and silent. We give God five minutes to answer a very big question and if we hear nothing but air between our ears, we give up. And I do include myself in this picture.

Recently, I had to decide whether to continue working part time or not at all. I had already decided to discontinue working full time. That was the easy decision. But in a way, I wanted to continue working part time. I liked where I worked. I liked the discount I received. I liked the mental stimulation of interacting with others each day. However...it still was a commitment outside of times I needed to be with my family. I prayed that God would clearly tell me what to do. I prayed that He would just shut the door if continuing weren't the best decision. I can't say that He audibly spoke to me, but I heard Him loud and clear through circumstances and I knew He had answered. You see, as I got closer and closer to my last day, it seemed more and more difficult for me to continue part time. I won't go into the details because it's unimportant to anyone but me. But I knew. The answer was "No."

I'm not a spiritual giant. God doesn't speak to me because of me. He speaks to me because of Who He is and because He is my Maker, Defender, Redeemer and Friend. Sometimes, like any good Friend, He's quiet because He wants me to figure it out for myself. Sometimes He wants me to take a step forward and trust Him without knowing all the details. Sometimes the answer is like listening to a bad cell phone connection. But He's there. In the silence. Holding my hand. Waiting to catch me when I fall. Waiting for me to be still and know that He is God...and I am not.

What I do know for sure...

2011-01-12T20:50:00.000-06:00

I'm sitting here on the sofa with my sweet Angus boy and a small heater on my cold feet and thinking about life. Oh nothing too deep. But I am thinking about the past year of working pat time and full time. Here are some things that I do know for sure...

1. You are always replaceable in the workplace. Yeah, people may be sad that you are leaving, but their thoughts are mostly on filling your position with someone as qualified (or more qualified) than you. Life moves on whether you are there or not.

2. On the flip side, you are not replaceable to your family. Regardless of how old your kids are, they are thrilled that Mom will be assuming her "mom" duties once again. I noticed this when my 16 year old learned I would be quitting and his instant reply was, "Well thank goodness THAT'S over!" I know for sure I've been missed at home and I feel deeply loved.

3. I do not like to be a manager. I know I tend to be bossy, but I would much rather be given a task and have to complete it on my own. Surprised?

4. Being a working mom is the hardest thing I've done. It is exhausting. Kudos to all the moms out there who work outside the home and then come home to work some more. I was certainly not very good at doing this well.

5. I do plan on returning to the workforce again. I hope that this hiatus from working is an opportunity to re-evaluate what I'd actually LIKE to do and if I need further training for what I'd like to do.

6. I am grateful that God blessed me with a job that helped my family at a time when we needed money and insurance. I am also grateful to have worked where I could share my faith openly and minister to others in many different ways.

7. And finally, I know for sure that not working, at least for now, is the right thing to do.

So...a new adventure begins. A new normal for me and for my family. And I do know for sure that running is once again in my near future!

The odyssey continues...

2011-01-01T21:12:00.000-06:00

...to another new normal.

I'm excited about 2011. In a mere 14 days, I will no longer be employed. That's right...I have given 2 weeks notice at my job.

As of today, Craig's company is now offering a comprehensive healthcare program. I am thrilled. I never thought I would be so excited to resume my position as full time homemaker. As a matter of fact, when I told Grayson of my plans, he said, "Well thank goodness that's over!" It's been a difficult year for so many reasons.

First thing I did when I decided to quit? I signed up for Bible study! I. Am. Thrilled. Nothing excites me more than digging into God's word and fellowshipping with other women who love the word of God.

The job was the perfect answer to prayer when my family needed it. I am thrilled for the opportunity and grateful that I enjoyed what I do. I have an amazing management team and their generous hearts have blessed me over and over again. I will miss them greatly.

So here's to 2011! Wishing you all glimpses of God's unending love and grace in unexpected places. And...on a personal note...hoping to blog a bit more now that I will have more time. AND I'm still tying to be optimistic that I'll run a half-marathon this year even if I'm starting the year with this clunky boot and a slow-healing sprained ankle.

Cheers!

Slow down, you move too fast...

2010-12-29T11:57:00.000-06:00

After 2 weeks in this miserable boot, I thought I was going to be freed from it's velcro clutches yesterday.

Sadly, I still sit here on the sofa that seems permanently affixed to my derriere again today.

I swear, I'm going to die with my "boot" on.

The sprain has not healed as quickly as it should have. So it's still possible it's a stress fracture. My only choice was to continue wearing the boot for 6 more weeks or get an MRI to rule out the fracture. Easy, right?

Yeah...not. The insurance company does not deem the procedure to be necessary.

So here I sit feeling sorry for myself. I have to return to work tomorrow. I still can't run and have no idea when I can (just the thought of all this inactivity makes my hips and thighs grow fatter by the minute) and now I'll have to be sporting this attractive boot while in New Orleans with Grayson's jazz band in a week.

I can't help but think that God is saying, "Slow down, Lori, you move too fast." (Or is that Simon & Garfunkle playing in my head?)

Nevertheless...I can't move fast. I've had a lot of time for thought and reflection. I feel a bit guilty for whining about this boot when others I know have greater hardships than a sprained ankle.

I've always been a fast-mover. My 6th grade teacher dubbed me "Scooter" because I was always zipping here and there. My mom said I was always busy when I was a little girl. She had to make me take a nap every day so that I wouldn't be cranky. (I really think it was because she needed a time out from me!)

Even God knows when I need rest. And since I know I am as dumb as a sheep that doesn't know when to stop, I need a shepherd to MAKE me rest.

The LORD is my Shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside quiet waters. He restores my soul. Psalm 23:1-3a

He restores my soul. Beautiful words (even if I don't WANT to lie down).

Baaaaaa.

Work in Progress

2010-12-26T19:53:00.000-06:00

I'm working on the blog format. so please be patient. Wish I knew more about writing HTML code and blog design.

Ah...if only I had the ~~brains~~ time.

New year, new look, fresh start

2010-12-25T21:36:00.000-06:00

I think my blog needs a fresh look. Maybe it's just that "new year" perspective I get this time of year, but I'm ready for some fresh starts in several areas of my life.

I'm on an odyssey these days. I'm not sure where it will lead. I've been thinking a lot about my life - good and bad - and trying to make sense of the year 2010. I hope to be able to write about my odyssey soon. But for now, the odyssey is between me and God.

And on the same note - writing that is - I hope to write more frequently this year. It's a promise.

The tragic story of where the sidewalk ends...(with my apologies to Shel Silverstein)

2010-12-17T07:31:00.000-06:00

Nothing like making a fashion statement with a beautiful pair of black boots! Sleek, supple leather that gives you that well-heeled look!

Except when it's not sleek. Or fashionable. Or leather. And it's certainly not beautiful. Think utilitarian, clunky, even Herman Munster-ish..

Here's the story of my stupidity and where the sidewalk ends.

About 10 days ago I was out for a pretty excellent run. Things were going great until I decided to look up and try to read the street sign. Unfortunately the sidewalk didn't continue with my feet and I found myself stumbling off the cement. My right foot twisted sharply and I can remember saying "ouch!" and very briefly trying to decide if I should continue running or not. Of course, I did glance furtively around to see if anyone saw my graceful (ahem) semi-swan dive.

Being the hard core runner I am, I ran another 3 miles or so. Exercise is good for the body, right?

I did notice a bit of swelling and bruising, but I figured a couple of days off from running would do the trick. In the meantime, I twisted the same foot again. And AGAIN. And I went on at least 2 more runs - one of which was 6.66 miles (my boys told me that was a bad distance to run and I should have at least logged 6.7). Live and learn.

After a long day on my feet this week, I noticed my foot was pretty puffy and aching more than usual. I went to the doctor, got some x-rays and was told that I had a pretty bad sprain and had made it worse by running. I was prescribed the Herman Munster fashionable boot and given the prescription to be on my foot no more than TWO HOURS a day.

Right. What part of "I-work-retail and-it's-the-holidays-did" he not get??

He said that if I wanted to get better that I HAD to follow orders to be off my feet and wear the immobilizing boot for 2 weeks. My other option was to have my foot splinted and use crutches. Alrighty then. Attractive immobilizing boot it is!

So here I am...wearing my fashionable boot for the holidays. Ho, ho, ho.

Wonder how I can decorate that clod-hopper boot to look a little more festive?

They gave what they could

2010-12-13T13:10:00.000-06:00

Stained glass in Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem

Yesterday my sweet bass son put the sheets back on my bed after they had been washed. A small chore, sure, but for a mom with a chronic aching shoulder, it was a very meaningful act of love. Not only that, he was not asked to do it.

The more I've thought about that generous act of love, I realize how many times my kids give me what they can - a hug, a kiss, kind words, acts of service to make my day easier.... so I've been thinking about giving what we can during this season of almost excessive giving. We shop for just the right present. We spend entirely too much money. We attend too many parties and eat to excess. And we often forget what the season of giving about. We parse it down to whether we should say, "Happy Holidays" or "Merry Christmas" and who's naughty and who's nice.

I see it every day at work. People spending more than they should and then regretting it in January, when I know for sure many of the "well-thought out" gifts will be returned so the bills can be paid. It's excess. And there's so much that we are missing in the excess.

Jesus - God in flesh - came to earth to parents of very lowly means. I know this because Luke 2:24 says, "So they offered a sacrifice according to what was required in the law of the Lord - either a pair of turtledoves or two young pigeons." Had Mary and Joseph been wealthy, they would have gone to the Temple in Jerusalem and offered a lamb as that's what they law required for the offering. But they gave what they could.

It makes me wonder how many times I don't give what I could? Do I give God my best or do I give Him what I have left over? I know I'm guilty of giving my family less than the best when I'm tired or just too busy to be bothered. Do I do the same to God? I'm certain that I do.

God has always given me His best. He's never held out on me. He's never given me just what He could. And He's done it for every one of us, even if you don't believe that Jesus is God's best gift to the world and through Jesus' death, we each have the chance to believe God gave His all - His best - for us so that we might have everlasting life with Him for all eternity.

"Since God did not spare even His own Son but gave him up for us ALL, won't God, who gave us Christ, also give us everything else?" Romans 8:32 (my emphasis)

The celebration called Christmas is about God giving us His best - His own son - so that we could live abundantly.

Valley of ditches

2010-12-09T09:14:00.000-06:00

Photo taken near Masada, Israel. A lone Broom tree in the middle of a dry desert.

"This is what the LORD says: make this valley full of ditches, for this is what the LORD says: you will see neither wind, nor rain yet the valley will be filled with water and you, your cattle and your other animals will drink. This is an EASY THING in the eyes of the LORD." 2 Kings 3:16-18

This is an EASY THING in the eyes Yahweh.

I was reading one of my new favorite devotionals this week at work during lunch. It's on oldie called "Streams in the Desert" compiled by Mrs. Charles Cowman. I am amazed how many of these short devotionals really speak to me and to where I am in my life.

My first thought when I read the above passage was what an ODD passage it was. Being the "dig deeper" person that I am, I had to pull out a Bible and read the passage in its entirety and in the proper context. I don't know that the longer reading of the passage made a huge difference, because what kept jumping off the page was "EASY THING in the eyes of the LORD."

EASY.

I wrote in my journal, "Amazing how many times what we deem impossible or too difficult is an easy thing in the eyes of the LORD. If only I could SEE things through the eyes of the LORD! Would my life and my present circumstances look like an easy thing?"

You see, the passage occurs at a time when Moab's king rebels against Israel. The Israelites are camped out in the wilderness of Edom, just south of Moab. Having been to that part of the world (or at least fairly close), I know what a dry, parched area it is. It's at the southern end of the Dead Sea. There really isn't much there except dust, rocks and a few broom trees here and there. Israel receives rain only a few months out of the year in the wilderness. So for God to say this is an "easy thing" seems surreal to the Israelites who knew the arid land well. God promised not only plenty of water for the people, but also plenty for the animals with them. No big deal. Oh yeah, and not only that, but the Israelites were promised victory over the Moabites. They just had to be obedient and do something crazy - dig ditches all over the land.

Right. Ditches. Plentious water. Victory. Easy thing.

I would have been skeptical if I had been standing there with chapped lips, wind-burned skin and a throat burning from thirst

But God did as He said. THE NEXT DAY...water suddenly appeared. An easy thing.

Why do I doubt the God who considers all things possible by His might? Why do I fret over my dry desert of difficulties when the Living Water Himself can fill my cup to overflowing? He is good. He is able. He is generous beyond what I can imagine.

This is an EASY THING in the eyes of the LORD. (For with the LORD, NOTHING shall be impossible.)

Dust bunnies and Taco Tuesdays

2010-12-07T08:41:00.000-06:00

"There will never come a day, no matter how old or seasoned we get, when our boxes are checked, when our kids don't need us, when we are void of God's passion to make a difference; when we kick up our feet and finally declare, "Whew, I just can't quite find enough things to do." (Suanne Camfield)

My hat's off to those of you working moms out there. I frankly have no idea how you get it all done without being a raving lunatic. I'm borderline lunatic now - and it's not a good look.

You see, I always thought I could do it all. You know, bring home the bacon and fry it up in a pan. Have the perfect children (potty trained by 2 and applying to medical school or law school after a successful 4 years of college). I thought I could maintain a beautifully manicured lawn while never breaking a fingernail. I even thought I could be the perfect wife - though not June Cleaver with pearls, lipstick and high heels). I used to make hand-made cards for people and write thoughtful messages of encouragement. I cross-stitched bread covers and included a homemade from scratch loaf of pumpkin bread as a gift. I even washed my own windows and liked it. AND I would never in a million years have dreamed that it would be December 7th and I would not have my Christmas decorations all in place. Yeah, that was until I started being a working mom.

HA!

I'm lucky to even do as well as Roseanne or Amelia Bedelia (take your pick) most days. My poor children have learned to eat sandwiches for more than one meal a day. I've taken to eating cereal for supper because I'm just too tired to fix a real meal. A successful day is vaccumming all the dog hair in the house, washing a load of clothes and managing to get some make-up on to get to work and then somehow getting everyone home at night from the 4 corners of the earth.

Do it all?? Yeah, I can DO it (with minimal crying); just not WELL. Something has to give. Well, a lot has had to give.

So I'm just letting you know that dust bunnies are my new pets. Taco Tuesday at Rosa's is gourmet dinner out. My kids doing their laundry is heaven. And my husband going grocery shopping or cooking up a pot of jambalaya is downright sexy.

Life moves at the speed of light sometimes. I'm just trying to hang on for dear life.

Gump and Grief

2010-12-03T09:00:00.000-06:00

If you've ever seen the movie "Forest Gump", you may remember the scene where he takes off on a run...a VERY long run. If I remember correctly, he begins running right after his mother dies. Somehow I guess it was his way to deal with the grief of losing someone he loved deeply. Of course, it's a fictional tale, but one that resonates with many of us on different levels.

Grief is a strange thing. It sneaks up on you at odd times and grabs you by the throat until you can't swallow. It sits on your chest until you think you can't breathe. It often gives you a push to run and run and run until you pound the grief into the pavement.

My niece, Elizabeth, who died much too early for those of us who love her, was a runner. She loved it. She didn't run because of grief...she ran because it was one of the many things God designed her to do. She also had a severe case of scoliosis and I feel sure that every stride caused her pain. But from what I understand, Elizabeth NEVER complained.

Maybe my grief over losing her has made me a bit Gumpish and driven me to run. Running is very spiritual for me - it's time for me to praise God when I see an amazing sunrise or clouds seemingly finger-painted into freeform designs. It's time for me to mull over my plan for the day or what I want to write about next on my blog. It's time that makes me think of Elizabeth and gives me a sense of being near her even though she's a part of heaven and I'm still a resident of this earth. Every foot-fall and stride and deep breath somehow helps me deal with the grief of losing her. I ask God the tough questions I have like "WHY??" and "What was the purpose?"

I have yet to hear His voice booming in my ear as to the answers because truly, He doesn't owe me an answer. But I have heard His sweet whispers of "I love you. I made HER for My glory and her work was done. Well done. My ways are higher than yours and My thoughts are not yours. Now RUN, and I'll be with you."

Maybe like Forest, I'll stop in my tracks and know that I'm done running to work out my grief. Every now and then I get a taste of the pleasure of running well and actually enjoying it. Sometimes I can close my eyes (just briefly), feel the sun on my face and feel God's goodness even through the pain.

Do you know know? Have you not heard? The Everlasting God, the LORD, the Creator of the ends of the earth does not become weary or tired. His understanding is inscrutable. He gives strength to the weary, and to him who lacks might He increases power. Though youths grow weary and tried and vigorous young men stumble badly, YET those who wait for the LORD will gain new strength; they will mount up with wings like eagles, they will run and not get tired, they will walk and not become weary. Isaiah 40:28-31

A Thanksgiving Christmas

2010-11-24T19:19:00.000-06:00

I'm sitting here at my laptop listening to my older son play his Christmas present that arrived yesterday. It's a guitar. It's beautiful and sounds wonderful. He's singing and I'm really enjoying it.

But here's the caveat....he can't have it until Christmas. He's only allowed to check it out now to make sure he likes it. Then it's back in the box until December 25th.

There's a funny little thing about my husband. He can't keep a secret - especially if it concerns a present. He's so excited about giving a gift he can't wait until the appointed holiday. Case in point...our first Christmas together he bought me a beautiful gold bracelet. I still love that bracelet. One day there was a gift under our meager tree in our very meager duplex. He picked up the gift and gave it to me (before Christmas) and said, "I want you to open this now because you may not like it."

What? A girl who doesn't like jewelry?? You gotta be kidding! (Not that I knew it was jewelry, but it was a small box.)

So I opened it. And loved it. And wanted to wear it. And then he proclaimed that I had to put it back in the box and wrap it up and wait till Christmas.

Seriously???

Yes, seriously.

I've been married to the man for over 22 years and he's not been "sure" someone would like something many times, so we've opened the present, liked it and the gift disappears until the appointed day.

Really, it's a terribly endearing quality.

So for now, I'll enjoy the music. Because I know the guitar is going back in the box.

Stilled and quieted

2010-11-23T07:15:00.000-06:00

I am by nature a HUGE worry wart. I've said before that worry could be my primary spiritual gift. And just like the statistics bear out, MOST of what I worry about NEVER happens.

But I seem to find myself worrying anyway just so that 1% of the time that something I worry about DOES happen, I can say, "SEE???? I just KNEW it!!" I like to think of it as planning for the worst and being pleasantly surprised when it doesn't actually happen.

I guess my worry places God in an accessory position in my life. I forget to just dump the truck of worries on Him. Or I guess if I do, I back it right back up to Him and scoop up all the junk in my life to fret about some more because He's not working on it fast enough (as if I could do better than the God of the universe!). Prideful, huh?

This morning as I drink my cuppa Kona and enjoy the quiet before the day begins, I've been thinking about a Psalm that I like very much.

My heart is not proud, O LORD, my eyes are not haughty; I do not concern myself with great matters or things too wonderful for me. But I have stilled and quieted my soul; like a weaned child with its mother, like a weaned child is my soul within me. O Israel, put your hope in the LORD both now and forevermore. Psalm 131

What a visual of a small child that is sitting on mom's lap wanting nothing more than just being with her - enjoying her company and her love and knowing the safety of being in the lap of someone who loves you more than you can imagine. It's not thinking about the "what ifs" of life or worrying about tomorrow and over-thinking yesterday's mistakes and failures. It's being content in the arms of the One who knows your past and knows your future.

Stilled. Quieted. Beautiful words! Both made possible by an unwavering HOPE in the LORD of the universe.

The age of reality

2010-11-21T20:30:00.000-06:00

In my mind's eye, I always see myself as somewhere around 25-30 years old. I definitely do NOT see an old broad pushing 50 (well, I still have 14 months more before I get to that ~~old~~ landmark age).

I'm sure no one sees themself the way others see them.

Yesterday I was helping a very ~~obnoxious~~ interesting customer (to say the least). He was probably my age and was looking for a ring that was "fun" and inexpensive. Ok....first, I had to figure out what "fun" was. Then I had to figure out if the ring needed to be noncommittal. Then I had to figure out a price range. SO, after this guy leads me on a merry chase around the entire store pointing to things he thought was fun, he ran out the door to go check out another store's options. Frankly, I was hoping the clock would chime 4:30 so I could quickly escape before he came back.

Then....when I looked up, the guy was back again practically snapping his fingers for me to come running to help him. Because they pay me where I work, I obliged. He picked out a couple of rings and I got to be the model. He had been told the correct size for the gift recipient, but upon looking at my fingers and finding out I wore a size 5 (which, my friends, is fairly small in the world of ring fingers), he said, "Oh, no way. Her fingers are WAAAYYYYY thinner than yours."

Gee, sir. I'm trying to be nice. And really, it's time for me to go home, so why don't I just find another finger model for you??? (Or maybe find another finger to show you? - just kidding.)

But again, since I get PAID to do my job professionally, I did help him. And he did make a purchase after I tried on multiple rings and he grabbed my hand and held it this way and that like it was a mannequin hand and not a real flesh and blood hand that belonged to ME.

I think what threw him off is what throws me off every time I look at my short, and rather wrinkled hands...they look old and much bigger than they are. I don't have beautifully manicured hands and I happen to do my own house cleaning, thank-you-very-much. My skin is getting thinner on my hands and the scar on my right hand that I've had all my life is so faded (or covered with wrinkles) that I can no longer see it.

Frankly folks, my mind deceives me. I AM old. Well, older than 25 or 30. I've been training to run in a half-marathon. And seriously, I must be crazy. My body ACHES. My feet - which have endured 3 surgeries - cry in pain when I hit about 5 miles. My right shoulder is in constant pain. My knees creak and crack when I squat down or walk up stairs. But by golly, I've run just about 122 miles since Sept. 29th and averaged a 9 min. mile. I even ran almost 7 miles today with a migraine.

But I still have wrinkled fingers. But don't call them "fat." And don't snap yours at me to help you.

I leak...

2010-11-16T20:04:00.000-06:00

I have a prayer I've been praying. I don't know that I would recommend praying it, because it's a little scary to think that God just might answer it in a way that I don't expect.

And His answer could be hard.

I see little things in myself that I don't like. I see times that I don't represent Christianity well. I sure don't look like Jesus.

So...I've been praying for God to refine me. To make me more like Him. To help me see the times I am less than Christ-like.

And trust me, I get a chance to practice being refined every day at work. And as a mom. And as a wife.

I'm not alone in this struggle. I recently read that a great man of faith, Dwight L. Moody was asked whether he was filled with the Spirit. He replied, "Yes, but I leak."

You see, Christ-followers do "leak." We aren't perfect. We are in process. It saddens me that so many think Christians are hypocrites because we "mess up" and aren't like Jesus. But refining and transformation is like surgery from the inside out. And it doesn't happen overnight. It takes a lifetime. And it takes grace.

"Like the high clear note of a trumpet, the Bible heralds the sure promise that no matter who I am and what I have done, the door to transformation swings open before me....No matter how low we plunge, God's grace goes lower still. The beauty of grace is that it does not leave us there." Philip Yancey What Good is God?

"Penny" Wise

2010-11-04T08:58:00.002-05:00

I had a great day off last Friday and went to "Secretariat" (by myself) at the movie theater. I can't believe that it's been over a year since I've actually sat in a movie theater to see a movie (last movie was "Julie and Julia").

"Secretariat" was very enjoyable for many reasons. It's was smartly written. The characters were likeable. The cinematography was exciting - especially watching the horses at the starting gates before a race. And it showed women as smart business people in a man's world.

Many women do have great business minds, but it wasn't widely recognized during the late 1960's and early 70's. The women during that era were stay-at-home moms or secretaries or teachers or nurses. Career fields were limited and because of those women who broke through the glass ceilings, my generation of female peers have had many more opportunities. (Just so you know, I have the utmost respect for moms, administrative assistants, teachers and nurses - but I'm just recognizing that career choices in that era were limited compared to now.)

The main character in the story was Penny Chenery. She was the stay-at-home-mom turned savvy race horse owner who definitely had much to prove as a woman in a good ol' boys club of horse racing. I feel sure the movie took poetic license and "adapted" the true story to make the movie more interesting, but nevertheless, there was one line that I loved and even fumbled in the dark for my notebook to write down. When Penny was being told she couldn't do what she wanted to do, she said, "It's about life being ahead of you and you RUN." It wasn't about looking back on what's happened before or about perceived limitations or about what may look impossible. It's about RUNNING towards your goal. And that's exactly what she did.

Wise words.

I am especially blessed to have a mom who always told me I could do and be anything that I wanted to. Had it not been for my mom's encouragement, I never would have gone to graduate school. I never truly believed in myself. I never believed that I was smart enough or brave enough or ....well, you name it.

When I first took horseback riding lessons in 6th grade, my mom told me that I had to at least finish the lesson even if I didn't like it. That very first lesson I remember slowly sliding off the horse onto the ground. I was somewhat embarrassed and really was ready to walk out of the riding rink. But I saw my mom sitting there looking at me and I could read her face, "Finish what you started." So I got back on the horse and finished the lesson. And eventually, I fell in love with the sport, competed in equestrian riding and learned to even deal with difficult horses without being afraid.

Sometimes it's hard to run towards a goal that seems out-of-reach and nearly impossible to grasp. And many times in my life I've wanted to give up. But in my mind's eye, I still see my mom's face and the look in her eyes that tells me, "Run. Keep going. Finish what you started. You can do it. You can do anything you set your mind to."

What a great lesson. Life is hard - but press on to the finish.

You're not the BOSS of me!!

2010-10-28T20:13:00.000-05:00

...well, yes, as a matter of fact, I am. (But that doesn't mean I like it.)

I am a naturally bossy person. Maybe it's a result of being the first born in my family. Maybe it's just my DNA. I don't know. But I do tend to be a bit bossy unless I consciously try to keep it in check.

As of tomorrow, I will have been back in the wonderful world of the workforce for exactly a year. I applied for the job on the internet despite being suspicious that my resume and application would end up in cyber-nowhere. Strangely, it ended up right where it was supposed to go, I got a call for an interview, I interviewed and somehow, they hired me. It was only for seasonal retail work and was supposed to end early January. But, here I am...full time and part of the management team. Go figure.

Which brings me to being bossy...the management part, that is.

I am a Sales Team Leader. I guess I'm kind of a pseudo-manager, since I don't actually run the daily operations of the store. But I can open and close the store by myself, make a few managerial-type decisions and tell others what to do. But in a nice way. Which is what I have found I don't like. I don't really like delegating. I like to come alongside people and train them and be their best advocate and cheerleader. I like to have the power to independently make decisions as necessary. But I'm just not overly fond of being a "manager."

It's not that I can't do it. It's that it's not my favorite thing to do nor my area of most giftedness. It's hard for me because I tend to see the obvious - what needs to be done. And I tend to do those things without being asked. It's hard for me to delegate duties. And it's hard for me to play games with others. My philosophy is show up and do your job. How hard is that, right? Apparently, harder than you'd think otherwise there'd be no managers.

So here's to one year back at work after a very long hiatus of being a bossy mom. Cheers. (Now get back to work!)

A beautiful Teen

2010-10-26T09:53:00.000-05:00

I added a link to a pretty amazing teen that I know. She is a very gifted writer and also a beautiful and creative person that I like very much. Please check out her blog sometime...

Pinocchio and other names

2010-10-24T17:24:00.000-05:00

I. Hate. Bullying.

I. Hate. Name-calling.

You see, I've had my share. I may be 48 years old, but I still had people make fun of my nose even when I was in GRADUATE school.

I have a very prominent nose. I'd like to think of it as "distinctive." But unfortunately, it's just plain old large. When I was going through that awkward stage of middle school when your features seem to grow faster than the rest of you, it seemed even more disproportionately big. Hence, the name, "Pinocchio." To this day I still won't let anyone take a picture of my profile.

Years ago a friend of mine told me about some girls in her daughter's class who would not let her daughter be part of the "group." Why? Because she didn't have the right type of shoes. This was KINDERGARTEN.

Reagan has had people make fun of him for having diabetes. He even had kids tell him he should eat too much sugar and die. What???? Really???

Grayson experienced anti-semitism even though we are not Jewish. Why would you make fun of someone being Jewish??? I think it would be cool. And besides wasn't it anti-Jewish propaganda that started the extermination of 6 million Jews during the Holocaust? Not funny. Not funny a bit.

I won't even elaborate on other names I've been called and how I've been ridiculed in other ways over some physical feature. I'm sure we all have our own stories. I'm not sure you can make it from birth to adulthood without SOMEONE making fun of you.

Maybe that's why I hold so tightly to my favorite Bible verse. Ephesians 2:10. "For we are His workmanship (or MASTERPIECE), created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand so that we would walk in them." (my emphasis)

I have it in Hebrew on a bracelet I purchased in Israel and also on a bracelet I bought at James Avery. I wish I had known this verse when I was 12 and 14 and 16 and 25. I had no idea I was a "masterpiece."

This verse is a big deal because it reminds me of who I am and why I was created. It is the ledge that I cling to when I feel like I'm slipping into the pit of despair. It gives me hope and a reason to live.

Maybe Geppetto was the only one who thought Pinocchio was his masterpiece, but I know for sure that I'm God's masterpiece created in the image of Christ.

And that includes my somewhat large nose.

As good as it gets

2010-10-19T18:24:00.000-05:00

Craig and I were looking at a picture of us that was taken in 2003 while we were on a fabulous trip to St. Maarten. Craig had won the manager of the year award, I had a fabulous tan and was in amazing shape from working out, his company had paid for the trip which was first class all the way, I had bought my first BMW (used, but still a cute, red BMW), the boys and I had started taking piano lessons and both boys were doing great in school (elementary school). The stock market was up, our investments were sound (or so we thought) and we were both very happy with our lives and our "stuff."

As we reminisced about happier times, we wondered if that was as good as it was going to get for us as a couple and a family.

You see since then, Reagan was diagnosed with insulin-dependent diabetes, Craig's dad was diagnosed with an odd type of dementia and subsequently died from it, my grandmother passed away, my beautiful 15-year old niece was tragically killed, our church completely fell apart, Craig went through 2 very long rounds of unemployment, and now I've gone back to work and he works for less money than before.

As someone wisely said today when we shared this story, "Welcome to the new America."

By no means do I think that we have it worse than others. But it's sure not where we thought we would be just a mere 7 years ago. I think that many that I know are in the same unsteady boat as we are. Just as a point of interest, the unemployment rate since 2003 has DOUBLED (from about 5-6% to about 12%).

And frankly, I'm glad that I had no idea what we were in for over the past 7 1/2 years. I think I would have found the nearest rooftop and jumped. (Well, maybe not since I'm very averse to pain.)

But still...life is never what you think it will be. It's not a nice, neat sit-com that wraps everything up in 30 minutes. Unanswered questions hang in the air. Things you never thought you would do, you do. Life moves on all around you before you have a chance to finish grieving any sort of loss in your life. And the boat continues to rock unsteadily toward who-knows-where.

Once again, life in the "new normal" of uncertainty is certain.

I know all the spiritually correct answers I should insert here, but I am struggling with life and why I'm here right now. Maybe it's a question we all struggle with at some time or another as we age. I don't know if it's "midlife crisis" issues. I just know that answers aren't easy. And sometimes there are NO answers and you have to forge ahead.

I still wonder, was 2003 as good as it gets?

The smell of baby powder

2010-10-18T17:16:00.000-05:00

A couple weeks ago I was passing through the cereal aisle at the local Kroger looking for some semi-healthy cereal and trying to remember how much it cost at Wal-Mart (my usual shopping haunt). As I was doing mental calculations slowly in my mind as I'd only had 1 cuppa joe at that time, I caught a whiff of something vaguely familiar - a scent stored in the recesses of my almost 50 year old brain.

It was Johnson and Johnson baby powder! Ah, heaven!

You see, the cereal aisle is shared by the baby supply aisle at Kroger (wonder why??). I don't think of those items too often as my boys outgrew those necessities YEARS ago. But baby products always leave an indelible mark on a mom's brain - even a mom with only one cup of coffee on board.

Suddenly I realized that I missed those days of baby powder and cooing babies with sweet feet you pretend to eat. I miss the belly laughs produced when playing peek-a-boo with a curious 3 month old and the fluttering eyelashes of a tired toddler.

At the time, it seemed like endless changes of clothes from spit up (I wore a diaper on my shoulder for years), sleepless nights marked by croup or asthma and utter exhaustion and boredom from watching just one more episode of Barney or Winnie-the Pooh.

But looking back the sweet scent of baby powder brings back fond memories of an easier time.

Now life moves at hyperspeed. No one seems to come and go at the same time. You never stop worrying when their car leaves the driveway. Who are they with? What are they seeing at the movies? Your heart breaks when a peer is unkind - especially if that peer is a girlfriend. They don't laugh at your antics any more - as a matter of fact, you are a complete embarrassment to them (most days). Their toys cost more (have you purchased a cymbal or upright bass lately??? Sheesh!) You wonder if somehow you screwed them up when they were that sweet toddler by telling them "no" one too many times. You wonder if grounding them and taking away their phone was fair (depends on who you ask). You still are in a state of exhaustion from either driving them everywhere before they get a license or from waiting for them to come home when they do get a license. And you might as well forget about sweet feet...those are looonnng gone.

There are benefits of having young adults for children. They listen to some pretty awesome music that I would never even find (I love Jack's Mannequin!) They have intelligent conversations about life and spiritual matters. They put their arms around you and tell you that they love you and thanks for driving them everywhere. They become very interesting people that remind you a bit of yourself combined with your spouse and others in your family that you love.

It's not a bad gig, just different. I do miss the smell of baby powder, but I'll never miss the big purple dinosaur.

Thanks for asking

2010-09-25T21:22:00.000-05:00

I have the opportunity to interact with many people on a daily basis. Since I work in the neighborhood where I live (and have lived in for 13 1/2 years), I know many, MANY people who come into the store to make purchases. In general, I love that I serve my "neighbors" and meet new "neighbors" all the time.

But there's one thing I hate.

It's when someone asks me a certain question about drummer son. The conversation usually goes something like this, "Oh yes, drummer son is a jazz studies major at UNT. Yes, he was on the ~~Marcus~~ local high school drumline and yes, he did go to a music school in California for 2 years and yes, he still loves playing drumset." Then the dreaded question...

"But...what's he going to do with a jazz studies degree????"

Usually, I'm a little befuddled as to how to answer that question. Not because I'm embarrassed, but because frankly I have no clue what he'll do. And you know what? I didn't know what I was going to do with my degree when I was 18 either. And I would wager that about 95% of the population had no clue what they wanted to be when they were 18 either.

Personally, I started out as an Accounting major. I ended up with a graduate degree in International Business (and left Accounting behind my sophomore year of college). I really liked German, but what would I have done with that degree??? So my incredible German professor suggested I get a graduate degree in International Business and select a graduate school that offered an internship overseas. So I immediately went to the Foreign Language office and scavenged through the file cabinet and found that Notre Dame and Univ. of South Carolina had programs that fit the bill. Notre Dame was quickly eliminated due to cost, but USC was a perfect fit given the fact I was from South Carolina and the program was not too expensive. (And did I mention the International Business Program has ranked #1 or #2 in the US for about 25 years??)

Trust me when I say that I never intended to get a graduate degree when I was 18. I've never considered myself to be very smart and had less than stellar grades in college.

And what did I do with that fabulous graduate degree, you ask??? Well....I ended up in Pharmaceutical Sales (yeah, I didn't want to do that either), then Public Relations for a nonprofit organization, a lecturer for a University (loved that!), Pharmaceuticals again, and a domestic engineer (aka, mom, wife, jill-of-all-trades) for a ~~gazillion~~ 17 years and now here I am, a sales team leader for a small retail chain (out of pure necessity).

Hmmm....I have a fabulous degree from a very well-regarded school and most people who know me, have no idea. And somehow I've managed to still be a pretty well-rounded and productive member of society.

So what will my son do with a jazz studies degree (from one of the 3rd best music schools in the nation and the oldest jazz program in the nation??) I have no idea. I'm sure God has a plan for his life just like God had a plan for mine. And I'm sure it will look nothing like what drummer son might imagine at 18.

But, hey, thanks for asking.

Four-eyed focus

2010-09-02T08:12:00.000-05:00

The thing I miss most about my youth is my vision. I used to have better than perfect vision. I could see ANYthing.

Somewhere in my late 30's, I noticed that when I was reading, the words were not as crisp as they used to be and I began to lose interest in reading because it was a hassle.

Sadly, as I approach 50 (really???? 50???), I find it so much easier to wear corrective lenses that are progressive lenses. I don't have to constantly look for my glasses to read something (because they are on my face) and reading is once again, so much more enjoyable.

I've even taken to running with my glasses on so I can see my iPod if I need to adjust it. Otherwise, it's a big blob of nothing.

Focus is as important as having a goal. Without it, you feel like everything is one big blob of nothing. Life becomes nothing more than slogging through another day. Activities seem to have no rhyme or reason.

I like to have some type of focal point when I run. For example, I like to pick out a sign on the trail and tell myself, "Ok, if you run to that sign, you can walk for a minute." It usually works because I don't want to give up. I've even picked a half-marathon to work towards in March just so I have a reason - a focus - to keep running.

I have been feeling very unfocused in my life - especially my spiritual life. I attend no Bible studies (yeah, that would be because of work), and I've tried to find an evening study to attend, but so far no one has answered me about one. So I'm left to my own devices for the moment. This morning I was reading 1 Peter (good stuff when your life is unfocused and frustrating). Peter explains what our focus should be (and understand that he was writing to Christians who were spread out everywhere and being heavily persecuted):

"Now we live with a wonderful expectation because Jesus Christ rose again from the dead. For God has reserved a priceless inheritance for His children. It is kept in HEAVEN for you, pure and undefiled, beyond the reach of change and decay. And God, in His mighty power, will protect you until you receive this salvation because you are trusting Him. It will be revealed on the last day for all to see. So be truly glad! There is a wonderful joy ahead even though it is necessary for you to endure many trials for a while." 1 Peter 1:3b-6

"Wonderful joy ahead!" What a beautiful thing to focus on when I feel frustrated. A joy that is ahead though trials are mine for a "while." If I can just run a while longer through the trials, the joy is mine at the finish line! I have a priceless inheritance reserved in Heaven for me...wonderful joy...because Jesus died for me.

And maybe...just maybe...I won't need corrective lenses to see that joy when I reach the end.

Running Topless

2010-08-27T08:07:00.000-05:00

Did that catch your attention? I'm sure my mom is wondering if I've lost my mind...

No, I don't run topless. But on occasion if it's 92* in the shade, I just might take off my supposedly "breathable and cool" running shirt (which is nothing but a sweat catcher) and run with my sports bra (which covers more than a bathing suit just in case you wondered - (heavens, I'm OLD folks - bikinis are a thing of the past).

I've become somewhat bored with my iPod music selection, so recently I've been listening to Pete Briscoe of Bent Tree Bible Fellowship. The man is the most amazing Bible teacher. The problem with running and listening to him is that I want to stop and write down what he says. I've been listening to his summer series about the 12 apostles. Very interesting and thought provoking stuff and perfect for distracting me from my aching knees and shoulder when I run.

Yesterday I was listening to his sermon about James (brother of the apostle John and son of Zebedee). James caught my attention because we sell a cross at James Avery that is called the St. James Cross. I've sold a bunch by telling the story of James and it's an easy sell to guys because it looks like a sword (anything fashioned like a weapon (James was killed by a sword) is generally popular among the testosterone crowd). But what really made me stop and ponder and grab my Bible upon arriving home is Pete's reference to Acts 12. I guess I've read it before many times, but had forgotten that the story of James death was recorded there. And of course, just reading it lead me on a rabbit trail. (See? You had no idea I could make running topless into something spiritual!)

James was the first apostle who was martyred (and killed). Since the Bible mentions so little about James, he doesn't seem like the most likely candidate for martyrdom. (Pete has some good explanations for why, so I won't steal his thunder.) What caught my attention yesterday was that as I read Acts 12, I saw that not only was James killed by Herod Agrippa, but right after that Peter was jailed and Herod's intent was to kill him, too, in order to stay "popular." Verse 5 says, "But while Peter was in prison, the church prayed very earnestly for him."

So why didn't Peter die? The next paragraph explains that an angel of the Lord woke him up in the middle of the night, tapped Peter and his chains fell off and he walked right out of the prison - right in front of the guards and right through the gate. Amazing, huh? After he got out of the prison, he went to a home where a group was praying for him. When a girl answered the door and recognized Peter, she went to tell the group he was there and they didn't even believe her. They were sure it was an angel instead.

Really this is a bit comical, yet so like us, uh...me. The group was praying diligently for God to answer their prayers and when He did, they didn't believe it! How many times have I prayed fervently for God to answer something and when He does, I am shocked and AMAZED. I'm apparently a woman of so little faith, that I am surprised when God answers my prayers.

But an even bigger observation popped into my head...I can't believe that this house church group did not pray for James fervently, too. So why was James killed and Peter was MIRACULOUSLY released? Did God neglect to answer their prayers for James? Did they NOT pray for James and that's why he was killed? (I find that hard to believe, but I still have to ask that.)

How is this different from our experiences today? Why does someone like my niece die unnecessarily yet other teens make very bad decisions and manage to live? Why do some missionaries who have a very productive ministry get killed in a tragic way, yet so many who malign the Word of God manage to live and spread lies about God? Why does one child end up with multiple medical problems and the other manage to be healthy? Why did we pray very specifically for a job for so long, yet in the end, the job is not even close to what we asked for?

I wonder if those precious early church Believers wondered "why?" each time a Christian brother or sister was killed? I'm sure they did.

Verse 24 says, "But God's Good News was spreading rapidly, and there were many new believers." DESPITE Herod's intention to wipe out the Christians, God's overarching PLAN still superceded Herod's evil intent. Bad things still happen in this world, but God's perfect plan is still moving forward - whether we understand it or not.

In Randy Alcorn's book, If God is Good, he says:

"We see something remarkable about a person who can bring some good out of bad. But most remarkable is to bring something incredibly good out of something desperately bad. To redeem what appears irredeemable magnifies the greatness of the Redeemer. If the universe exists to demonstrate God's infinite greatness, then shouldn't we expect God to scale the highest redemptive mountain? The problems of death, evil, and suffering must be vast in order for God to show his superior greatness.

Every time we ask God to remove some obstacle in our lives, we should realize we may be asking him to forgo one more opportunity to declare his greatness. Certainly he sometimes graciously answers our prayers to relieve our suffering. This too testifies to his greatness, and we should praise him for answering. But when he answers no, we should recognize that he desires to demonstrate his greater glory. May we then bend our knees and trust his sovereign grace."

Yeah, I'm a woman of little faith. But all I need is just a "little" faith in a very big God. I certainly don't have the answers to difficult questions, but I do trust that MY lack of understanding does not mean that God does not have a good plan.

The smell of crayons

2010-08-18T21:32:00.002-05:00

Me (center) first day of first grade and some of the neighborhood kids. The girl on the right, "Peanut" taught me how to ride a bicycle. That's another blog story! Irmo Elementary School, Columbia, SC

First day of 2nd grade, Hunter Elementary, Franklin, OH. Did I really dress that way for school???

The date on here is May, but I'm sure that's when it was developed. My brother was going to the library where his "teachers" were. I was going to school - maybe 3rd grade? I wish I'd kept the Peanuts lunchbox. It was my favorite! Don't know if this was in Franklin, OH or if we'd already moved to Metuchen, NJ.

First day of 4th grade. Monroe, OH. I don't remember the name of the school anymore. I just remember the neighborhood where I rode my bike down 2 big hills...standing up...with no hands. (And what's with the pilgrim shoes???)

I still love the smell of crayons. That waxy smell of dreams of great art and maps to color of places you'll never visit. The coveted 64 pack was a rare treat and generally not required by the school. But it had that really cool crayon sharpener on the back. I loved to color and was shocked in first grade when another little girl told me that I was a messy colorer. I just thought coloring outside of the lines was artistic. Sometimes I still like coloring outside of the lines. It sure makes life more exciting and unexpected.

Ahhh....a new school year. So much promise and the excitement of new clothes, getting a teacher you loved and dreams of learning everything there is to know. (Ok, so I'm weird...I loved the pursuit of knowledge.) I loved school. (Ok, so not middle school or high school, but I loved elementary school and college.)

I love that my mom made sure that I always had something new to wear the first day of school. It was always that "special" outfit to remind me of how special I was. I love that my mom always made sure that no matter how little we had, I always had something stylish to wear the first day. I loved back-to-school shopping. I'm so glad my mom took pictures of me so that I can look back and remember each of these years of my life. I won't say that the years represented were "good", but they are my memories of days gone by and certainly have made me the woman I am.

I've had some amazing teachers, too. My first grade teacher, Mrs. Spivey, who adored me, but still put me in the "bad chair" for talking too much (ok, so I finished my work and I was bored - I just needed to check on my neighbors and make sure they understood, too). My 2nd grade teacher, Mrs. Haney, who read us "Charlotte's Web" after lunch each day. She also let us pick out our own spelling words. My favorite one was "ballerina." I was thrilled I could spell what I wanted to be. Then there was my amazing avante guarde Greenwich Village 3rd grade teacher, Miss Stepperud. I know that I love to write because of her. She encouraged writing and always proclaimed it "good." She gave us all a hug every day we left the classroom. I truly loved her. Then how could I forget my 6th grade teacher, Mr. Rifkin, who nicknamed me "Scooter" because I was always on the move. (Maybe I was just ADD, but he just saw me as an enthusiastic and kinesthetic learner.) I had a fabulous 8th grade teacher, Mrs. Black, who challenged us with fabulous novels like "Tale of Two Cities", "Watership Down" and so many more. She cared about her students and we all knew it. (And I forgive her for calling my mom and telling her I was a wise crack and misbehaved in class and then I was grounded for the rest of the school year. Ok, it was just a month, but it felt like forever.)

I even had one particularly favorite professor in college, Dr. Whisnant, my German professor from freshman year. Had it not been for him, I would never have pursued a graduate degree. He also helped me see who I was and who I wasn't. He just recently retired from Furman University in Greenville, SC. The man totally scared me the first day I showed up to that 8am German 1 class. He spoke in German and as he called the roll, he stared us down as if memorizing every nook and cranny of our face. But it amazed me he learned our names so quickly. I was even more scared when I had to learn the Lord's Prayer auf Deutsch for my mid-term. And believe it or not, I still remember it.

If you are a teacher, never forget that that child, pre-teen or teen walking into your class is a moldably piece of clay in your hands. One day, they just might write about the impact you had on them. And you will just remember that you were just doing your job, I'm sure. But to them, what you do will help them learn who they are, what they want to do, and even what they don't want to do. And parents, don't forget that your child isn't YOU. They are a unique person that is designed to be exactly who God created them to be. I'm thankful that my mom let me be that girl, teen and woman. The woman who still likes the smell of crayons and occasionally colors outside of the lines.

Over the river...

2010-08-16T11:57:00.000-05:00

and through the woods only to be lost in the forest of no answers.

I don't like my life right now. I haven't liked it for a very long time. I wonder where the joy is in doing what seems meaningless, but necessary. Sure, I could recount why I am blessed and why I should FEEL gratitude for all the blessings. But folks, life is hard. I certainly don't mean to minimize the difficulties that any of you have who have had terrible tragedies in your lives - cancer, death, unending joblessness....but I have certainly had my share of many of those things this past year.

Somehow I thought that employment - of any sort - would be better than nothing. Yes, it's nice to be able to pay the bills (for the most part), but I don't know that we'll ever get ahead again. The price of the job is that I work my tail off for health benefits (because it's not for the pay), Craig works his tail off and travels all week to pay the bills. In case you don't know, he makes half as much for doing more at this job than he has in the past. Kinda sucks, huh? On Sundays, we have a hard time finding that sabbath rest when we both dread another week of passing like 2 ships in the night.

I don't have time to be mom any more. I feel horrible about this. I miss being able to help my boys figure things out and spend decent time with them. I had 2 days of work last week where I didn't even get a break for lunch. One day I did manage to wolf down some yogurt and sit for 15 min. (I guess that's a break). It's insane.

What hurts the most is that when you are out of sight, you are out of mind. Somedays I wonder if I'm even missed. I served as a Bible study leader for years. I have been a participant, servant and jill-of-all-trades in women's ministries at church. Now because of my job, I am totally left out. It hurts. We move so fast in our go-go-go society, that we forget those who might need a little encouragement every now and then because they can't come get their weekly dose from being among like-minded friends. Not to mention, I miss the intellectual stimulation of Bible study.

I can't see the forest for the trees right now. I can't imagine why God has brought us to another place of difficulty. There's more than I can't even discuss publicly. Am I so stupid that God has to keep me in painful places because I just can't seem to learn the lessons He has for me??

Just another reason I run. I keep hoping I can just run through the pain and the problems will fall away as I head into the wind. First it was the desert...now it's the forest. But both still have their own challenges.

Turtle talk

2010-08-09T11:30:00.000-05:00

I'm sure you've read the story of the Tortoise and the Hare. You know the maxim..."slow and steady wins the race." The slow turtle kept at it slow and steady and the hare bolted from the starting gate. He dashed so fast that he was exhausted and fell asleep during the race. Well....you know the rest.

I was thinking this morning about being a turtle. And for me it's not slow and steady WINS the race, it's slow and steady FINISHES the race.

As I was trotting along at my slow and steady pace during my run, this amazing runner passed me going the opposite direction. Then, he passed me from behind going the same direction.

What did I tell you? Turtle time.

But I finished my run nevertheless.

Sometimes I feel like the world is swirling around me at break-neck speeds and I'm lumbering along in my own little world just trying to finish.

It's so easy to take my eyes off the goal - finishing well - when everyone else seems to be passing you coming and going. It's easy to get distracted from just doing small things well. It's easy to get distracted from what really matters in this life. What does God want from me? Why did He make me a turtle and not a hare? Why am I stuck in 1st gear when I want to move into overdrive? Why? Why?

"O people, the LORD has already told you what is good, and this is what He requires: to do right, to love mercy, and to WALK humbly with your God." Micah 6:8 (my emphasis)

Thank God He only wants me to WALK.

Slow and steady ~~wins~~ finishes the race.

A Pavement of Prozac

2010-08-02T17:07:00.000-05:00

If you are my Facebook "friend", you know that I am in pursuit of a fairly lofty goal for an old gal like me. That goal would be running a half marathon when I'm 50. As of August 6th, I have 18 months to train for this goal. I know if you are reading this and still in high school or early adulthood, you think that's way too long to train. But trust me, I'm more than double your age (maybe even double and a half!), so I need more time for my old body to adjust to the beating.

There has to be a momentous way to celebrate 50 - Half a century of living on planet earth (if God allows). Somehow when I was 18, my brain never even considered me at 50. I could look at my life at 21, 25, 30...even 40. But after that, I don't think I ever consciously thought about what life would be like. I guess I thought I'd be so old that I'd stop doing anything fun or significant.

Well...13.1 miles is the goal. I can only handle about 2 or 3 right now (and if I walked a bit in between I could probably do 4 maybe 5). I'm a long way from even 10, much less 13.1 miles. But I feel like the little engine that could: I think I can, I think I can...

I'm not really a runner per se. I used to run in college mostly to deal with stress. I'm not running now to get in shape or to lose weight, though if that happens I won't be disappointed.

I think that my 40's have been incredibly difficult. I'm certainly not where I would like to be. I'm sure God has a plan for me to be right where I am right at this particular time and there's a purpose for it. I wish He'd clue me in to why I'm stuck in a path of disappointment and no direction, but alas, He seems to be mum on the subject.

So for now, hitting the pavement is Prozac to my soul. The sun on my face, the wind at my back and the sweat pouring down my face seem to remind me that I'm still alive and that I have a goal to reach. I think about my precious niece in heaven who ran cross country despite constant pain and a rod in her back. I think about her sweet face of determination and I feel sure that I can somehow make it. Maybe she's part of my crowd of witnesses in heaven cheering me on.

Running is time to think. Time to pray. Time to practice mind over (my fat & flabby) matter. Time to see the beauty of simple things like a butterfly or a roadrunner or a patch of unexpected flowers in the hot Texas summer sun. It's therapy for someone who has struggled with depression and anxiety most of her life.

Maybe it's just a road less traveled for someone who's been traveling a long time. And maybe somewhere in this process of pursuing something that's difficult for me to do, I'll find my way again.

Therefore, since we have so great a cloud of witnesses surrounding us, let us also lay aside every encumbrance and the sin which so easily entangles us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Hebrews 12:1-2

Pssst! Did you hear about....

2010-07-26T20:31:00.000-05:00

Gossip.

Juicy little tidbits that tickle our ears and feed our voracious appetites to be the first to know.

I wish I could say that I don't participate in gossip. But sadly, I can be guilty of this very subtle sin that we so easily talk ourselves into being "ok."

I was just telling my boys that whatever you say - even if said in confidence to someone - WILL BE REPEATED. You can choose your actions, but you can't choose the consequences of those actions. And the best action to choose, is not to say anything about anyone unless it's positive.

The wisest man who ever lived, King Solomon, said, "What dainty morsels rumors are - but they sink deep into one's heart." Profound, huh? I love the way he describes gossip as a "dainty morsel" as if it's a petit four that one nibbles on and savors at a fancy party.

There's more..."Don't talk too much, for it fosters sin. Be sensible and turn off the flow!" (Love that one!)

"The heart of the righteous ponders how to answer, but the mouth of the wicked (or foolish) pours out evil things." (my comment).

"The heart of the wise instructs his mouth and adds persuasiveness to his lips."

"A fool's mouth is his ruin, and his lips are the snare of his soul."

"A fool does not delight in understanding, but only in revealing his own mind."

"He who restrains his words has knowledge, and he who has a cool spirit is a man of understanding. Even a fool, when he keeps silent, is considered wise; when he closes his lips, he is considered prudent."

Sometimes smiling and saying nothing is the wisest thing you can do. Trust me on this one.

It isn't easy being green

2010-07-15T09:32:00.002-05:00

Believe it or not, this water bottle once was TWICE the size. It was sleek and stood tall and was of course, BPA free. Reagan received this beauty during his orientation at UNT about a month ago. He really loved the bottle and kept water in it in the fridge until...

...until he decided to put it in the dishwasher. As you can see, it really isn't easy being green. The dishwasher melted it down to half it's size. It's like one of those shrinky-dinks kids make and put in the oven. Strangely, the lid still fits. But I do question the safety of something that looks like a doll toy.

We all got a good laugh from this mini-disaster. I even kept the bottle on the counter for a few days because I just KNEW there was a lesson somewhere amidst the shrunken tragedy. And it finally hit me what it was.

I have recently been "found" on Facebook by some friends I knew in graduate school. After 24 years, so many of us had lost touch. It's been so interesting to see where a few of my MIBS buddies have landed after a whirlwind 2 years at the University of South Carolina. The program I refer to is an intense MBA in international business. We would complete the study of a business textbook many times in just 2 weeks (really!). In addition to the rigors of business study, we also became fluent in a 2nd language and spent almost a year completing an overseas internship. (Did I mention that the university has consistently been rated as one - if not THE - top international graduate program in the US.) (And how I managed to actually be accepted and graduate from there is beyond me.)

Some of the graduates have some pretty darn impressive jobs and international lives. It does give me pause to think about where I am in life and recognize that things didn't exactly turn out the way I had planned when I was 24 - half a lifetime away!

I do have a point that relates to the bottle.

The best intentions do not always create the desired results.

I once had grandious ideas about being on the corporate track working in an exotic locale and doing some type of incredibly important job. But I jumped off that track when I got pregnant with Reagan. Somehow I found being a mom and wife to be fulfilling. Certainly there were days that seemed tedious wiping noses and changing diapers. It certainly didn't require a high level of education to complete such tasks. But I am so thankful that I spent those precious years with my boys. And I do think it requires a high level of skill and organization to do that job well. And why is it that I feel I need to explain why I chose to take time to raise precious gifts from God? (I digress as usual.)

I thought that when I went back to work, I would of course go back to some fabulous corporate career. Alas, I didn't. I work for a Texas-based jewelry company at a retail store. And believe it or not, I do like my job. And yes, I do find it fulfilling. See after years of leading Bible study to women and teaching others about the grace and love of Christ, I'm able to actively SHOW these things to others at my job. Yeah, I may not be perfect (and quite frankly, I'm far from it), but right now what I do fits my life and me. Sometimes "jobs" are not about money or renown. Sometimes life is not about the spectacular, but about the simple things like a hug goodnight or an "I love you" from your kid after a long day of ungrateful customers (which is indeed another blog post). Maybe I didn't make a million dollar decision, but I can't help but believe that what I do is priceless in the realm of eternity.

All that to say that there is nothing wrong with the corporate treadmill. I wish I could have seen how far I could have gone. But my best intentions did not create the desired results. Or at least, did not create the results I thought I desired when I was 24. Somedays I feel like that green bottle - compressed by the pressure of life and molded into something I never imagined. Yeah, there's a few more wrinkles and sags these days than in 1986, but on the inside, I'm so much wiser and maybe even a little more realistic and dare I say it? Content. Ich bin zufrieden. Und das ist toll!

Once upon a time...

2010-07-06T08:34:00.000-05:00

There is a horrible injustice going on in TV world.

It's called "The Bachelorette/The Bachelor".

So, yeah, it's a sometimes guilty pleasure of mine. I watch it because it's like a bad car wreck that you just can't turn away from. Seriously, I do find it an interesting microcosm of many girls' world views. It's a classic notion...boy meets girl, boy falls for girl and they get married and live happily every after. Not to mention, all these boys are gorgeous and all the girls are beautiful. And they go to fabulous places and have fabulous dates that would make any non-romantic fall in "love."

Except...life isn't really a fairly tale. Marriage is definitely not a fairy tale.

This isn't to say that there are moments that seem fairy-tale-ish, but for the most part, marriage is just living life with someone else. Some days are good, some days are, well...not so good. Marriage is HARD WORK. No one sends you on fabulous dates. No one else is around to care for your beloved when they are sick. No one else is around to deal with unemployment and difficult children. Show me a couple who's dealt with the realities of life and weathered the storm and I'll show you a couple who knows the meaning of love -regardless of happily ever after.

I remember a guy I was engaged to years ago. We were in graduate school doing internships in Germany. Weekends involved the magic of traveling to exciting places across parts of Europe. How can you not "feel" in love when you're driving past castles on the Rhine River or sipping wine in a cafe in Brugge (Belgium)? But reality hits the fan when the education part of the mix is over and you actually have to find a job to pay for the education. I remember my mom telling me that life in Europe was not real world. I so wanted her to be wrong, but she was so right. It didn't take long to realize that this was not someone I was going to have a happily ever after ending with.

I think the show gives an impossible standard for any guy or girl to live up to in real life. And sadly, I think many young women believe that this reality show is "reality." But the fact is, most of the people on the show (girls and guys) have an agenda. It may be to win or to break in to acting or singing, but I guarantee it's not because they truly are in love with the other person.

Last night as I watched the last "winning" couple (Jake and Vienna, if you follow the show and tabloids), I couldn't help but catch my breath at all the ugly things they said to each other. I have no idea who was right and who was wrong, but I do know that I don't like either of them. It was apparent during the "season" they were pursuing each other that Jake was in it for media attention (and sex) and Vienna was in it to win. It didn't take long to see the seemingly fairy tale ending fall apart.

And Disney is no better. I grew up believing that I could be Cinderella and some day my prince would come. I'm not saying that my sweet husband is not my prince, but to think that he is would place an unfair standard of expectation on him. I am certainly not a princess either. So it does cut both ways. (Not to mention, I'll just never be a damsel-in-distress type who is waiting for someone else to fix her life.)

I love happy endings. But I love realistic endings. TV reality shows are anything but realistic. Just sayin'.

Cuppa Kona and Quiet

2010-07-01T07:49:00.000-05:00

My favorite time of day is in the early morning when no one is up at my house and I have the time to sit and drink my cuppa Kona coffee and listen to....nothing. Quiet. Peace. Well, except for the dogs snoring after they've had breakfast (which, by the way, is why I am up at 6am every morning).

I feel like a whirling dervish the rest of the day once the action cranks up around here. Then it's usually off to work and my focus turns to sales and attempting the make people happy.

So here's my "this and that" as I sip Kona and enjoy the quiet this morning....

I am still enjoying my job. What baffles me is how often moms come in with their daughters to purchase them a gift. Generally, the daughter is pre-teen (or she would be there with her friends instead of mom) and mom seems to be way too opinionated about what daughter needs to get. I'm amazed at the mom last night who discussed openly that her daughter was "puffy" and retaining water and therefore needed a bigger ring size. This poor little girl was teeny. I wondered what kind of self-image this poor girl had with a beautiful mom who was about a size zero with ~~big boobs~~ an ample chest and perfectly manicured fingernails (that she kept saying looked "awful"). The daughter clearly wanted a particular ring that her friend had. It was a ring she had admired for a long time. The mother clearly wanted her daughter to pick out something flashier that suited her more than her daughter. I felt a bit sorry for the daughter and said, "You need to pick out what YOU will enjoy wearing." Ok, so it was none of my business, but if it's a gift, the daughter should have the freedom to pick out what pleased her or the mom should have come to buy the ring without the daughter.

Sadly, this is a scenario that I see frequently. Why are moms so controlling? It's a piece of jewelry for heaven's sake! This is not a mountain you want to die on, moms. Even if it's not your taste, let your daughter express who she is with her jewelry, not who you are or just don't offer to buy anything.

I am trying a new Bible study. It's nothing brainy - just reading a book and discussing it with a group of women at my church. I had envisioned about 10 ladies sitting around and chatting about our thoughts on worship. As it turned out, it was 35 or so women. I enjoyed listening to some of the women share their experiences, but unfortunately with such a large group, there were women, who I KNOW had something valuable to say, but were too shy to interject due to the size of the group. Then you have several who are incredibly gregarious and take over in a group. Such a tough balance for a group facilitator (which I'm not in this case). But it was interesting to watch expressions. I could probably tell you who won't come back based on watching faces last night. Of course, sometimes I'm wrong...

Another observation from last night...it is an odd feeling being the one who steps into a group in work clothes while everyone else has on shorts and casual attire. I had to come straight from work, so I was late and I looked so out of place. I also noticed that I am definitely not a lady of leisure as I am one of the few who had absolutely no tan. I looked like a ghost compared to women who enjoy time around a pool in the summer or doing some yard work (which my yard needs). I don't think I truly appreciated the years that I was a stay-at-home mom. Or the years we got to go on vacations in the summer. I miss popsicles and kiddie pools in the backyard.

Life is still not into a groove in our new normal. Craig has been in 5 or more cities this week working (all out of state). Reagan is home off and on and Grayson is home after being gone 2 weeks. And I am working noon until closing most days this week (which I really don't like). I don't even know how to fix meals anymore. I don't know who will be here, who won't nor how to be here myself to do it. Some days I think that all I do is just put myself in survival mode and plod through the day and fall into bed at night.

I feel disconnected from everything these days. Disconnected from friends. Disconnected from my boys. Disconnected from my husband. Disconnected from myself. I always thought it was hard having small children and a husband who traveled. But now I realize that where we are now is much harder. Life seemed status quo for so many years when they were small. Now change is the norm. I work a crazy retail schedule and can't plan for anything anymore.

Which brings me full circle. Quiet mornings and Kona coffee. Right now it's the only thing I can somewhat count on in my crazy day.

Furry-tailed fly catcher

2010-06-28T07:35:00.000-05:00

Ahhh....my sweet, furry dog named Angus. He's not so bright, but worships the ground I walk on (which is quite smart in my opinion). He's a funny little dog, too. He won't play "fetch", but instead will run get the ball and then run the other way as if you are supposed to chase him. He loves to sleep on the couch when I'm next to him. He bites my toes when I come home from work or when I get up. I absolutely love this little ball of fur.

Angus absolutely hates flies. If a stray fly somehow gets in our house, he will worry himself silly trying to jump in the air to catch it. He's been successful many times in at least stunning the fly and then after it's on the ground killing it (or eating it, I don't know which - he is a DOG after all).

It really is a funny sight to watch him run past out of nowhere in pursuit of his arch enemy, the fly. Then he jumps in air like a frisbee-catching dog and his teeth clack together in hopes of stunning his target. One little fly will put this little fur ball on high alert until the annoyance is gone.

Last night as Craig and I were fretting over so many things that needed to be done, I saw the fly-catcher out of the corner of my eye racing into the room in hot pursuit. After an unsuccessful jump and clack, he sat in the middle of the floor and turned his head this way and that fretting over which way the fly had escaped.

Then it hit me. Craig and I were doing the same thing. Fretting over one little annoyance after another.

I wonder how many times we forget about the many, MANY blessings that are all around us and fret over the one annoyance that flies around taunting us and misdirecting our focus? Probably more times than we care to count.

This morning, my furry-tailed fly catcher is lounging on his back on the sofa relaxing. Apparently, no flies are in ear-shot.

There's a lot to be learned from my sweet, not-so-bright Angus. Funny how God can use anything to teach us a lesson about ourselves and a lesson about Him.

So don't worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring its own worries. Today's trouble is enough for today. Matthew 6:34

My life in Emails

2010-06-12T07:57:00.000-05:00

God hath not promised skies always blue, flower-strewn pathways All our lives through: God hath not promised sun without rain, Joy without sorrow, peace without pain: But God hath promised strength for the day, Rest for the labor, light for the way Grace for the trials help from above, Unfailing sympathy Undying love.

I was just going through my old emails in my Facebook account. I am not very good about cleaning my email account out - it's tedious, boring and I can always think of something I'd rather do.

I was amazed that I had almost a year's worth of old emails saved! It was bittersweet reading so many of them and thinking about the reasons I had received the email or sent the email. Strange to think back to July/August of last year and realize how much had changed since then. So many things to be so thankful for. So many things to mourn. So many things to celebrate. So many things that didn't turn out the way I had planned. So many emails that made me laugh and some that made me cry. Encouragement from friends I know well and encouragement from cyber friends that I have never met.

Life changes fast. It can go from good to bad in the blink of an eye. But it can also go from mourning to praising just as fast. Funny how we can be rejoicing over blessings while mourning losses all at the same time.

God has taught me so much this past year. There truly is a season for everything and for every purpose under heaven. I am grateful that it is not this time last year, yet sad for the disappointments and losses that the year has brought to our family. Dreams that were unrealized and lives that stopped before we could even take another breath. I'm thankful God is good and didn't tell me what this year would bring - both the good and the bad.

I realize now that grace occurs when we need it, but not before. You can't store it up from yesterday and use it 2 weeks from now. But you can count on it to be there - right on time - when you least expect it and when you need it.

Every day is precious. We all have the opportunity to encourage each other and love each other despite the trials in our lives. Our days are not about us, but about what God is doing IN us and THROUGH us (whether we like it or not!).

Just so you know, the quote at the beginning of the email was forwarded to me from Craig on Sept. 11 last year. It was originally an email from a friend of his who goes to church with his brother in San Antonio. It's a hymn, though I don't know the author. Apparently, an 11th grade teacher from Craig's high school many years ago had told her students these words. Pretty amazing, huh? A godly woman, who never dreamed of Facebook nor email, touched my life and encouraged me last September. Thanks, Bessie Cutcher.