7 Quick Takes Friday

Here are my Quick Takes for this week, since technically, it is still Friday.

1.

I apologize for weird spacing issues in my posts.  I've discovered that I can get online using my dad's (PC) laptop, and I swore I would not write another blog post from this @#$%* Mac, but alas, I got in late tonight, and the laptop has been shut down already.  And, if you know me at all, you know I'm pretty easily deterred . . . if something seems like a lot of trouble, I  usually don't bother.  

2.

I know what you're thinking.  "You got in late? From whence?" (You're welcome.  I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt that you are quite an eloquent thinker.)

So, yeah, I went on a double date of sorts.  Joshua and I went with my brother and his daughter (and a girl he's dating) to see Big River at the Springer.  It was excellent.   It ended way past my bedtime.

3.

I decided that I didn't feel like getting really dressed up for it (shaving my legs seemed like a lot of trouble . . . see #1), so I just wore my nicest pair of skinny jeans and a dressy black shirt.

The outfit would have been a lot less trouble if I wasn't deodorantly challenged.  I spent at least as long getting deodorant spots off my black shirt as I would have shaving my legs.  Seriously, if there's a "Dressing for Dummies" course out there somewhere, let me know.  I think I dress without getting deodorant on my shirt about twice a month.  (And, no, putting the shirt on first won't help . . . it's a lot of trouble to lift up the shirt carefully and put the deodorant on afterward . . . again, see #1.)

4.

I got hit by a deer Wednesday night.  Yes, that's right.  I got hit BY a deer.  

I was driving home from small group - in quite a bit of an anxious funk, though I'm pretty sure that had nothing to do with it - when suddenly there was a deer what seemed like 3 inches in front of my at-the-time-being-driven-60 mph van.  I slammed on my breaks and missed him by about  a millimeter then suddenly felt this huge thud against the rear side of the van.  Apparently, Bambi had a friend.  Or an offspring.  Or, as Joshua is convinced, there was something chasing it to eat it . . . most likely a cheetah.

Since I was less than a mile from home, am a huge coward, and was on a dark and desolate road, I decided not to get out and survey the damage at the scene.  Even when I got home, I couldn't tell much in the dark.  Yesterday morning, however, I discovered a giant deer-head shaped dent right above the rear wheel-well.  Or maybe it was shoulder shaped, I don't know.  I'll have to study some deer (and possibly cheetah) anatomy and get back to you.

I'm just glad no one was hurt as I had all three kids in the van with me.  Josh screamed, "Mom, watch out!" at the precise moment I saw deer #1, and tonight as we were driving down the same road, he reminded me to watch out for deer.  Trust me, the reminder was unnecessary; I was going about 35.

5.

It bugs me that when I was creating labels for my post, I used the phrase "spiritual insight."  EVERY time I use that label, I wish that I could change it to "spiritual reflections."  I don't mean be so presumptuous as to think that anyone would find my ramblings "insightful," but it's not possible (as far as I can tell) to change a label without going in and re-labeling each post.

And, again . . . see #1.

6.

Lauren's newest phrase: "Whatever."  She loves it.

She said it the other day when she lost her train of thought, and my parents and I cracked up.  It was hilarious.  Now she knows people find it hilarious, so she says it to get a laugh.  She actually told me that she kept saying it at small group the other night "so Sarah and Laura would laugh again." 

I foresee a class clown.

7.

You should know that it took quite a bit of dedication for me to get this post in tonight.  I had to pry myself away from "I Was Bitten" on the  Discovery Channel.  Or maybe it's Animal Planet.  I don't know; I'm new to this whole cable thing.  All I know is I am addicted to this show.

It's about people who've been bitten by various deadly animals.  Tonight's episode included a grizzly bear attack and an attack by a great white shark.  (Lucky for you, I've seen a shark one before.)  Other episodes have featured attacks by various types of rattlesnakes, cobras, alligators, mountain lions, venomous spiders . . . all the things I'm sure you want to be thinking about if you read this right before you go to bed.

I seriously love this show, though.  If someone created a channel that was nothing but infomercials and near-fatal animal attacks, I'd watch it almost exclusively.

Ruined

Here's the update David had for me recently:  The new firm he's formed in Pennsylvania is, well, not really producing any income.  To say none at all would be an exaggeration, but only a very slight one.  The house we have been planning to buy? Not  so fast.  Given the lack of income, the house is up in the air now.  

Combine that with a few other things going on in my life  right now, and I have been in a pretty downward-directed spiral of emotions the past couple of days.  I'm not a panicky person by nature, but when I do panic, it gets me in quite a funk.  Fear grips hold of my heart, and it's hard for me to think about anything else.  

Such was my state of mind and heart as we left our small group last night.  I had a hard time concentrating on what  was being said - and an even harder time participating - because I felt as though I was fighting off a full fledged anxiety attack, and if I opened my mouth or began to talk about it, it would all be over but the crying.  Literally.

So, I gathered up my kids as quickly as I could, intending to get out the door and to my van before any well-intentioned people, whom I dearly love, could ask me how I'm doing.  

"Come on, guys.  Hurry up.  It's a school night," I was saying as I rushed them toward the van.  Great, we're almost outta here.

And then Lauren fell and scraped her hand.  It was not a deep or a large scrape  by any stretch of the imagination, but you'd never know that from the way she shrieked hysterically.  In my attempt to convince her that hers was not a life-threatening injury, I showed her the scrape.  

"Look at your hand," I said, "It's fine."  

"MOMMY, IT'S RUINED!!!"

At that point I couldn't help but  laugh as I carried her inside to get that most magical of all healing remedies for children - a bandaid.  It  helped, but she still wailed the entire way back to the van and most of the way home, saying at one point, "Mommy, it will NEVER go away!!"

I told this story to some friends at Bible Study this morning despite the funk of anxiety I still have not been able to shake from my gut.  Later, as I was on the way home, I thought of it again.

It seems God gets a kick out of teaching me lessons through my children.  

Is what I'm doing any different from what Lauren did?  God has given me sign after sign, peace upon peace, that He is leading us to Pennsylvania.  He has provided and shown His presence every step of the way.  But, give me some bad news, and just like Lauren, I cry in my heart, "I'm ruined!"  

God, help me to trust.  Forgive my childish tantrums and pity-parties.  Release me from my fear, and remind me that You are my good and gracious and loving Father and  that You withhold no good thing . . . even if some of the things you send don't seem good to me right now.

Thank you that your plans - and your children - can never be ruined.

A girly robber

While helping Lauren get into her pajamas after a bath tonight:

Lauren: Mommy, I'm not Lauren. I'm a bad guy robber.

Me: No, you're not. You're my sweet little princess.

No, I'm a girly (pronounced "geely") robber.

A girly robber? What does a girly robber do?

I don't know.

What does a robber do?

Ummmm . . . hunts!

Hunts for what?

A robber hunts for every bad animal. The only not bad animal is a puppy. Robbers love puppies.

I then come downstairs to fix her something to eat and hear her singing as she comes down the stairs, "Everybody do the robber dance, the robber dance, the robber dance . . ." to the tune of "Do You Know the Muffin Man?"

I don't explain 'em; I just tell 'em.

Taken

That would be  the word for what  happened to my time and my money when I went to see the movie Taken, starring Liam Neeson.  If you haven't seen it and you don't want to know what happens, I suggest you go play in another corner of the internet somewhere and try my blog again on another day.  

For everyone else . . . the movie is about Liam Neeson's daughter who gets abducted on her first day in Paris.  

Oh, the daughter is 17, by the way, and has been for like a whole hour or two when her parents let her go to Paris alone with another teenager without knowing where she'll be staying or having any contact info at all . . . other than a copy of the U2 World Tour schedule because today's 17 year-old Americans are so into a band from MY high school years  that they'd follow them all over Europe.  Nobody loves Bono more than girls born in 1992, right.

Anyway, back to the plot. 

Here's the abridged version: Girl goes to Paris despite the misgivings of her former spy father.  Girl gets abducted  by Albanian (of course) human traffickers.  Former spy dad still remembers  a trick or  two and kills/disables/tortures  approximately 43 armed men in his ultimately successful attempt to get his daughter back from these degenerate savages.  Girl has been abducted, sold as a sex slave, forced to take such a large amount of drugs that she's half-dead (her friend is completely dead), delivered along with a few other virgin girls to a sheik on a boat, and rescued by her dad who shoots the sheik who's holding a knife  to said girl's throat.

Girl gets back home, runs smiling to meet mom at the airport, and shows up giddy with glee when her dad surprises her by taking her to meet her pop star idol (a fictional version of Shakira) and  Shakira's voice coach.

Now, I didn't mind the movie as a whole.  It was a decent action/thriller.  I can suspend disbelief with the best of them when it comes to a middle aged man being able to singlehandedly defeat an entire ring of savage criminals half his age.  I could buy the car chases in which a handgun is always more effective than a machine gun or a semi-automatic.  I could even go along with the guy's apparently being able  to shoot  up half of Paris without any legal or political consequences or even an interview with Larry King afterward.

The part that spoiled it for me was  the end. The last 100 seconds of the movie,  The girls has, against all odds, survived this unthinkable horror and been brought safely home.

And, apparently, being abducted and made part of the human trafficking industry does nothing to tarnish a 17 year old girl's dreams of becoming a pop star.

I mean, like, duh, right?

7 Quick Takes Friday

1.

Yes, I know it's Thursday, but I'm taking advantage of my brother and his PC laptop being here right now, so here are my early 7 Quick Takes.

Sigh . . . I'm in love with the control key.

2.

We've said for years that Joshua is the most likely of our children to follow in his parents' footsteps and become a lawyer. He proved it again during a conversation we had on the way home from school yesterday.

We were talking about Africa and what type of animals one might see on a safari. He asked me if there were alligators there. I said, "I think so, yes."

Josh's reply: "Mom, you said, 'I think so.' and 'Yes.' Which one is the answer?"

The kid's a master at cross already.

3.

I passed two police cars on the highway today, and through some freak chance, I happened not to be speeding. Am I the only one who feels proud of myself when this happens? Despite the fact that I am usually speeding, I'm pretty sure that when I'm not, the police officer is thinking to himself, "Wow, that hot young chick is the best driver I've seen in a long time."

I realize I'm quite delusional on many levels here.

4.

Speaking of ridiculous thoughts, a friend of mine was having an MRI the other day, and that caused me to think back on all the MRI's I've had.

I always have this horrible fear right before going into the machine that perhaps I've forgotten about some metal on myself. "What if I have on a necklace I forgot about?" "Do I have steel rods in my leg?" "Wait! What if I had brain surgery and had metal plates put in my head, and because of the whole brain surgery thing, I just forgot about it?!" It's quite panic-inducing.

5.

Boy, these really are random today aren't they?

6.

So, I took all four kids (my 3 plus my niece) out for a walk this afternoon on the street where I grew up. (Remember we're staying with my parents, and they live in the house we moved into when I was 5.)

My parents' house is in the woods, and when I was growing up this area was pretty sparsely populated. It was not uncommon to walk the entire 2 mile length of our street without seeing a single car.

Not so anymore. There are now several factories out here, and the traffic has increased twenty-fold. During our 1 mile walk today (1/2 mile each way), we were passed by at least two dozen cars, all traveling about 65 mph on this 45 mph road. I had told the kids we would go all the way to the railroad track, which is about a mile from the house, but I had to reneg and turn back sooner for fear that we would not all make it back alive if we continued.

It was not the desolate street of my youth, and even I, supermom extraordinaire, could not safely walk with a 3, 4, 6, and 7 year old an entire two miles.

7.

So, my point about the walk.

It may not be desolate anymore, but it's still in the woods. (This morning a coyote crossed the driveway in front of me when I left for Bible study, and we frequently see feral hogs, wild turkeys, and the like.)

While walking back tothe house this afternoon, we came across an almost completely decomposed animal of some sort. Not until we got about 10 feet farther and found the jawbone with teeth intact were we certain what kind of animal it was. It was a wild dog.

Joshua has show-and-tell tomorrow.

Do you see where this is going? Yes, I picked it up with a stick (didn't touch it) and brought it home and put it in two layers of gallon-sized zipoloc.

Will the teacher think, "Wow, what a great mom that boy has for being willing to let him keep such a cool piece of nature?" or "Wow, what a freak that boy has for a mom?" I can't decide the answer to this myself.

Up and running again . . . at least for now.

I think I mentioned that the kids and I are staying with my parents until Joshua finishes school in May, and then we will join David in PA.  More thankful for this accommodation I could not be.  

However, the free cable and high speed internet that were advertised for this location have not always materialized.  In fact, for the past two days, my parents have had no internet, cable, or phone service.  (Management, i.e. my dad, has informed me that I'm free to look for a cheaper place, but free is hard to beat.  Especially when the establishment comes with babysitters.)  Add to these media being down the fact that I lost my cell phone charger during the move, and I have been truly incommunicado the past couple of days.

How did I live without email and Facebook and cell phones?  It's like living on Little House on the Prairie.  Except I don't have to use an outhouse.

Oh, and I couldn't get weather updates.  

I tease my mom about being a weather channel junkie, but I never realized how often I hop on the net to check the weather.  (Considering we went from 4.5 inches of snow to 84 degrees in the span of 8 days, surely you can understand my preoccupation.)

So, I'm back for now.  However, I'm still on a mac and don't know how to put pics up. I may go ahead and do my Seven Quick Takes later today in case I can't get on again tomorrow.

This must have been what the Dark Ages were like.  Except that I'm not really afraid of being executed for saying that or anything.

Unchanging Love

One afternoon several months ago I went out to shop for some new jeans all by myself. David kept the kids for hours while I shopped without my usual extra appendages that like to crawl underneath dressing room doors and hide in clothes racks. (And sometimes put on bracelets or scarves without my noticing until we are three stores away.) Of course, I enjoyed this solo shopping time immensely.

When I arrived home, I found myself stepping over and under and around countless strings of yarn that had been wrapped around everything in my living room. "It's a spider web!" the boys told me excitedly. I laughed and headed toward the bedroom to put away the fruits of my shopping excursion. David, meanwhile, heard what the boys said and hurried in from the garage to tell me that he had told the boys to take the spider web down. (Apparently, there was a misunderstanding wherein David told them to take it down so mommy wouldn't trip over it, but the boys thought that moving it away from the front door would accomplish the stated purpose.)

I assured David that I didn't mind the new spider web decor, and he replied, "Oh. I wasn't sure whether it would be Dr. Jekyll or Mrs. Hyde who came home, and I was worried you'd be upset about the mess."

Wow. Talk about being slapped in face by your own reality. Was I really that bad?

Sadly, yes. Reflecting back, it was far too common for me to come home from my alone time and fuss and nag about what the house looked like when I came home rather than just being thankful for the break I'd just received and the fun my children and their father (clearly) had while I was gone.

I found myself thinking of that incident in church this morning when we sang a song that referred to God as unchanging. Of course, I already knew that about God. But thinking about it this morning in light of my own utter unpredictability was a comfort to my soul.

My children do not always know which mommy they're going to get . . . the laid-back version who patiently helps them clean up spilled oatmeal or the tightly wound coil version who springs loose in all her fury about how many times they've spilled their oatmeal this week.

I'm unpredictable. I do not always respond in the same way. Sometimes I freak out over a spider-web living room; other times I laugh and enjoy the creativity of my kids.

Imagine how much nicer it would be if they knew my response would ALWAYS be the same. If they knew that no matter what, my tone, expression, and words would convey total love and acceptance (and forgiveness when necessary).

I don't have to imagine what it's like to have a God like that. He is unchanging, and I am beyond thankful that I can at least point my children to a Heavenly Father who offers trait this even though I fall so utterly short.

7 Quick Takes Friday

1.

I'm typing these on a foreign computer tonight, so please forgive the final outcome.  I don't have my "7 Quick Takes" logo saved on this (my parents') computer, and worst of all . . . it's a Mac!  

I know many of you out there love macs, but I am not one of you.  I like my control key, my arrow buttons at the top and bottom of the screen, and the familiarity of my piece of crap windows program.  It's comforting.  I miss it.

2.

I am, however, thankful that the kids and I are able to stay at my parents' home for the next 10 weeks while we await the chance to move into our final destination - our home in Pennsylvania.

3.  

I guess this should have been #1.  We are officially homeless persons.  We closed on the sale of our house this morning.  Handed over the keys,  took our check, and left.  We are in the process of buying a home in PA, but we don't have a closing date yet, and it will likely be sometime in April.  (Since that's so close to May when Josh finishes school, the kids and I are living with my parents until school gets out.  Wish us all luck.)

4. 

David has been home since Monday, which has been great.  We spent every day until today either packing, loading, or cleaning or former home, so today's the first chance we've had to do anything enjoyable.

We took the kids to the park this afternoon to climb on the rocks, and I took dozens of pictures, but alas, I do not know how  to load them onto this alien computer.

5. 

I did learn something great during our afternoon park adventure:  I can still rock-climb! The kids were climbing an easy part of a cliff at Flat Rock, and at the same time, some soldier-looking guys were climbing a more difficult part.  It wasn't sheer, but it wasn't terribly craggy.  

So, these two fit looking guys spent about 20 minutes studying the cliff, one showing the other how to climb it.  After about  20 minutes,  the two of them crested the cliff, went back down, and drove away.

The potential for embarrassing myself in front of them having driven away with them, I decided to try that section of rock myself.  I kid you not that it took me less than 2 minutes to climb it.  I was proud.

I used to climb and rappel a lot in college, but I've never owned my own equipment or known how to operate it.  (ie, I can't tie a knot at all)  It's on my bucket list, so I was glad to discover I still had some of my mad skills.

6.

I hate redundancy.  Those gas station signs that "Checks must be pre-approved before pumping gas" drive me crazy. 

7.

I also hate needless repetition.  

(Having trouble with this annoying computer, so I'm not linking right now.  Check out the original Quick Takes at conversiondiary.com.  Sorry no link this week.)

Some midweek randomness

Let's see . . . what have I been up to lately?



Yeah, that's about it. And, by that I mean that's about all I've been up to, NOT that those are about all of the boxes. That's just the overflow because the garage is pretty much full.

In my head, when I'm typing garage, I'm pronouncing it like the British do. I'm having a problem with that lately.

I was an English major in college and a 12th grade British lit teacher after that, so I've read a LOT of British literature in my lifetime. But, never before have I experienced an inability to read them without an English accent.

Seriously, I'm reading a novel now (Another Mother's Life) that is set in England. The characters say things like, ""It will be very exciting, won't it? A proper adventure" and "Get a move on, love" and "Can Gemma come round this afternoon?"

I absolutely cannot read this book without a British accent. Then when I put it down, I can't stop thinking in one. I never thought I did a very good accent before, but now that I think in one almost 24 hrs a day, I'm getting quite good at it. Jolly good, I'd say.

Apparently, since I won't go to the frozen tundra yet, it's come to me

My law school girlfriends were in town to visit this weekend. We had a blast . . . stayed up talking till wee hours, went to movies, picked on Yella, drank lousy sangria, ate pretty much anything as long as it contained chocolate chips, read brainless magazines in Barnes & Noble while someone got her Starbucks fix, etc.



This is us on a bench downtown last night as we strolled a few blocks before dinner at the Cannon (which we ate outside), enjoying the 71 degree weather:



This is what things looked like this afternoon:



Is this a Georgia kid enjoying himself some snow, or what?



Of course, the snowman. Now I know which relative Joshua gets his quirks from. It's a snowman, guys, not a snowcone:



Josh, not one to be satisfied building a snowman like any other kid, just wanted to build a giant blob he could stand on. My dad has always been the helpful kind.

The building begins:



Up he goes:



And, success! For about 5 seconds before he went crashing through the middle, which is what he claimed to be aiming for all along.



And, yes, those are frilly blue gloves Joshua is wearing. When one lives in Georgia, one is not equipped for things like snow and ice. My kids started the morning with socks on their hands since we couldn't find any gloves, so the blue frillies are an upgrade.

It gets even worse. Lauren REALLY wanted to wear a scarf, and the best I could find was a dollar store feather boa. We also made a hat out of the shawl. Who says I'm not crafty?



And, according to her, she was "helping" here:



In twenty-four hours, our area had a tornado, flooding, and a snowstorm accompanied by thunder and lightning (which I'm told doesn't normally happen). But, I had a blast with my girlfriends, so assuming this wasn't the apocalypse, it was a great weekend.

This post brought to you by the letter W for whine

I have been in such a funk today.

Just irritable and grumpy and do not want to talk to people and sure as heck do not want to smile at people.

Like the girl walking into Dick's Sporting Goods when I was on the way out today (after receiving terrible customer service and shelling out $20 for new soccer cleats because Ethan outgrew his sometime between October and February.) This girl was walking by and said (as people in the South are prone to do), "Hi! How are you" with a big smile. There was not one single cell in my body that wanted to smile back. Not even half a cell. So, I didn't.

Instead, I came home and spent all afternoon on the phone trying to clear up mortgage problems, cancel services (phone, water, etc.), change address for things, pay bills . . . all while children fought and cried in the background over urgent issues like whose doghouse made out of empty cardboard boxes was better.

And, we got our credit card bill today. Despite my trying VERY hard to spend very little money the past month, it was barely any less than normal. David said something like, "Keep spending like that, and you'll drive us into bankruptcy." "Good," I said, 'My plan is succeeding because that's exactly what I'm trying to do. Bankrupt us." He had the good sense to call back about 10 minutes later and apologize for being too hard on me and acknowledge that I sounded very frazzled and exasperated. I call him Sherlock. (On the off chance that you actually decide to read my blog this week, I love you, hon.) :)

To top it all of , Josh appears to have strep. Or more accurately, scarlet fever. Which is apparently just a really bad form of strep. Not diagnosed yet, but that's what the doctor on the phone tonight said it sounds like. Yesterday he just didn't feel well all day - took two naps, which is unprecedented - but he had no specific complaints (once his eye scratch was gone).

Well, last night he had a fever of 99, but still nothing hurt, so I didn't treat it. He slept fine and had no fever this morning, so I went ahead and sent him to school. (Yes, there is a 24 hr fever rule, but it was ninety-freakin-nine, and nothing hurt!) This afternoon he complained of being cold and tired (oh, and yesterday he had a headache), so I have him Tylenol and discovered he had a 101 degree fever.

About an hour ago, he came to me and said his stomach itched. He has an awful rash covering his entire torso, especially his groin and armpits. (I bet when he's sixteen he's going to love that his mom mentioned his groin on the world wide web.)

Called the doctor's office, and they said it sounds like scarletina from strep. (Yes, mom, I left out the scarlet fever part when I talked to you. It's just bad strep. I was going to tell you tomorrow if it turns out that's actually what it is.) She said to give him Benadryl, and if it went away, it was not strep, but if it didn't then bring him in first thing in the morning because it likely is. Great. Maybe my whole family will get it just to make moving even more fun.

I must now go clean my kitchen that looks like the only inhabitants of my house are toddler terrorists.

Josh wanted to make a "surprise drink" for me today. He wouldn't let me see what he was doing, and when he tried to come ask me for something, I shoo-ed him away because I was on the phone with the mortgage company. When I went to the kitchen to see what he had made, it was cherry Koolaid. He couldn't find a pitcher (which is what he was asking for, but it's already packed anyway), so he used . . . empty water bottles. Of course, what else?

I must say the koolaid on the floor and counters went well with the oatmeal on the table, the cheese on the floor, and the orange juice on the rug. We had a whole little motif going on. Maybe we'll be featured in Southern Living.

Quick Takes

It's not Friday, and I don't know that there will be seven, but since I was out of town on Friday, here are a few random snippets from the last week.

1.

Joshua appears to have heard the word "practically" recently and decided to adopt it as his own catch-all term. A conversation when he got in the car on Friday:

J: I practically won the game at recess today.
Me: Really? That's great.
J: But C practically bit the heads off of all his star wars guys.
Me: Why did he do that?
J: To make grenades. Practically.

He used it about three more times that afternoon, usually out of context. Also, he has taken to calling the kids across the street "those genius boys." While I'm sure they're quite bright, I don't think he understands what a genius is since he can't seem to articulate any reason for calling them that.

2.

One day last week the kids were - shock - complaining that they were hungry. I looked at the clock and, thinking it said 5:00, decided to go ahead and cook dinner. When I got dinner out of the oven half an hour later, the clock said 4:30. Oops. We had the early bird senior citizen dinner.

3.

Lauren's most frequent response when I ask her to do something for me has always been "sure!" Of course, we live in the South, and I have always tried to drill into my kids the importance of using "ma'am" and "sir" when speaking to adults. So, lately she has taken to answering me with, "Sure, ma'am!' I love it.

4.

Today was apparently "Bless Beck" day, thought I'm not sure you'll find an official notation of it in the Library of Congress or anything. But, here are the things that lead me to suspect such a day occurred today:

a. I had an appointment with my nephrologist, and I had told him last week on the phone that I don't have insurance at the moment and was probably going to cancel my appointment. He said I really needed to come in but to remind him when I came, and he would mark down the bill so I wouldn't have to pay more than my co-pay. Well, without my even reminding him about it, he didn't just "mark it down;" he didn't charge me a penny. Blessed by Dr. W.

b. My sweet next door neighbor kept all three kids for me this morning while I was at the doctor, and when I arrived to pick them up, she was almost done cooking lunch and said to just let them stay and eat, and she would send them home after. Thanks to her, I was able to come home and spend almost an hour and a half packing without the kids here! And, I KNOW it doesn't take my kids that long to wolf down some spaghetti. Blessed by Bridget.

c. Joshua apparently got something in his eye yesterday afternoon. He cried about it for hours, but I still figured it was no big deal. I let him watch _Star Wars_ to try to take his mind off it, and he watched the entire movie with his hand pressed over one eye and cried every time he took it off. I tried Visine, but he said it made it sting more. So, this morning, when he was still crying about it (though he did sleep fine all night), and it was still red and puffy looking, I called the dr to see what I should do.

They said they needed to see him to make sure it wasn't - and didn't get - infected. As I mentioned, we don't have health insurance right now, so I was less than thrilled at the expense this would be, especially after having had to take Lauren to the doctor twice in the past three weeks. But, obviously, Josh's vision trumps our wallet woes, so I made an appointment for this afternoon.

In an unprecedented turn of events, Josh went in his room and took a nap at about 8:15 this morning (right before I called the doctor, which opened at 8:30), and when he woke up, his eye was significantly less red, and he said it didn't hurt as much. By the time I got back from my doctor's appointment this morning, it was completely better, and he said it didn't hurt at all, so we ended up not having to shell out money for another doctor's appointment . . . not to mention prescription antibiotic drops or ointment

Blessed by God.

Consider Jesus

I had the precious opportunity to go on a retreat with women from my church this weekend, and while there I found myself reflecting on some things I have felt God impressing upon me over the past couple of months.

Things like how He sees the big picture of my life, and I do not.

Things like how everything that happens in my life is good because it has been ordained by my loving and sovereign God.

It would be easy to read (or type) that sentence and then rush on, but don't. Stop and ponder it for a moment. It's really quite challenging to believe. Seriously. Everything? EVERYthing?

Suffering is an inevitable part of the human experience. Some seem to have more than their "fair share," but really, we all experience it. I don't know what my future holds, but I feel like I can say with a strong degree of certainty that it will contain some joy and some pain. Life always does.

So, why? Why does God allow us to suffer? The short answer is so that He can be glorified in us. Our speaker this weekend (Ann) told us the story of how she had endured several trials in her own life, including her father being murdered many years ago. She said that during a sort of "crisis of faith" (haven't we all had them at some level?), someone used this illustration: he said to picture God going before you in your life with a giant shield. Sometimes he moves it aside and lets things pass because He knows they will be good for us. "This will make Ann more like Me, I'll let that one through." "This will draw Ann closer to me." "I'll use this to reveal myself to Ann."

I like that image of God's giant shield over my life.

Of course, I have no idea of all the things God has shielded me from, the things He has not allowed to pass through, but I'm keenly aware of the things He has let pass. The sufferings. The challenges. The painful experiences. The frightening circumstances. What to make of those? Why does He let those pass?

During some quiet time this weekend, I sat down to read four scripture verses that Ann had referenced. The first was Hebrews 1:3, and I told her later that I never made it to the other three, because I couldn't get out of Hebrews.

This is what Hebrews 2:10 says (emphasis and parenthetical content mine): "It was fitting for Him (God) . . . to perfect the author of their salvation (Christ) through sufferings."

Wow. If God found it fitting to perfect Christ through suffering, who am I that I should be shielded from it? Who am I to question its purpose in my life?

I kept reading into chapter three. "Therefore, holy brethren, partakers of a heavenly calling, consider Jesus, the Apostle and High Priest of our confession." (Heb. 3:1)

Did you notice those two crucial words? "Consider Jesus."

In how many circumstances can those words apply?

As I try to reach the other side of my desert of doubt . . . consider Jesus.

When pain and suffering are my companions . . . consider Jesus.

When I am tempted to stumble . . . consider Jesus.

When I am filled with grief and despair . . . consider Jesus.

As I live in a fallen world among people I sometimes find difficult to love . . . consider Jesus.

When I struggle to forgive . . . consider Jesus.

What a precious gift of Grace that God gave us a Savior who "was made like His brethren in all things." (Heb. 1:17, emphasis mine) He has walked in my shoes. He has felt what I feel. He has rejoiced and mourned and yearned and even questioned.

Consider Jesus.

As David and I embark on this next leg of our journey - moving to PA and becoming self-employed - we do not know what the future will hold for us. Right now it does not look as if it will involve an immediate resounding success. As I was talking with a friend this weekend and explaining how, despite the the doubt-inducing circumstances around us, neither of us truly questions whether this is the right thing to do - how David and I both have strong peace that this is where the Lord is leading us - I found myself saying this: "I know that God is not leading us to Pennsylvania to starve to death."

As soon as the words left my mouth, I realized they were wrong. I do not know that at all.

Of course, realistically I don't think there's much chance that we will literally starve (or freeze!) to death, but the fact remains; I do not know. But, this much I do know: God is sovereign, and He has a purpose for everything that He allows in my life. If through some unlikely turn of events, we were to starve to death, God would be glorified. His purposes will not be thwarted, and all that He ordains for me is good.

If I do suffer and die, I'm in good company. Consider Jesus.

Becoming best friends

I have been astounded lately at how well Ethan and Lauren have been getting along together while Josh is at school. Not that Josh causes the problems, but when it's just these two in the mix, the dynamic is so different.

They are by nature more easy going and way less intense. Consequently, when they fight, they are quick to forgive each other and to switch from crying/hitting to laughing/hugging in a heartbeat. Yesterday they had been fighting over some of those little velvety poster things that you color with markers. I told them to hug and apologize, and they left my bedroom saying to each other, "I love you, Ethan" "I love you, Lauren" "I love you, Ethan" "I love you, Lauren" repeatedly as their irritation dissolved into delightful giggles.

These two are only 17 months apart, so it stands to reason that they would be close, but prior to Josh's starting school, the dynamic sort of always went "the boys" and "Lauren." Now, it's great because Ethan and Lauren get "alone" playtime in the morning, and in the afternoon, it's all about boy time. The boys will play in the woods for hours, while Lauren tires of that after about 20 minutes or so.

It will be interesting to see what next year is like when Josh and Ethan are both in school!

File under: Odd pickup lines

I was talking to someone in my small group tonight about how it's sometimes hard to decide whether to "accept a friend" on Facebook. You know, sometimes you have NO idea who the person is . . . the name doesn't ring a bell, their profile picture is a pic of their dog, so that's no help, but apparently you have like 27 mutual friends, so you figure you must know the person, right?

So, tonight after having that conversation, I come home and put the kids to bed and get back to work packing get on Facebook. I had a "friend request" from some guy named Dean Scott with the most unexpected message ever:

"Hi! I see you are a Calvinist!! If you are also single or know any Reformed singles, they may be interested in this website...."

I've heard some bad pickup lines in my life, but "Hi! I see you are a Calvinist!!" is definitely a new one.

Plus, I'm not sure where he got the idea that I'm a Calvinist. I've always liked Hobbes just as much.

And, wouldn't everyone who's married be considered a "reformed single?"

(You really should start paying better attention to the labels before reading my posts. I TOLD you this was random.)