6YearMed  hilariously demonstrates that escapism is so necessary that we’ll go to great lengths to get it……….

and then makes me feel bad about my last post while  demonstrating why she needs to escape…………

Mercy + Compassion = more than enough for God to let me live to 100, if we are really here to learn lessons He has for us. I’m still in kindergarten in these subjects.  But how sneaky to hook me with humor and then reel me in with sadness!  He knows I’m a sucker for humor.

I am so grateful that nothing is “sacred”  in making me sacred.

She said I’m the kind of mom who

Doesn’t know what to do

In these situations.

I looked at her hard then and

Looked away at the crying baby with the

Bleeding  hand  and the sister

Who shouldn’t have to be mama too

And the other three staring up at me

And I judged, hard.

There are many things I understand

But a mama who is useless isn’t

One of them.

I wiped and bandaged and comforted

Except for her, who I could not

look at or speak to

after that declaration.

They all recovered but later,

 my head hurt

From the questions I couldn’t ask

and the answers that are impossible –  

Why would a woman work so hard

At producing so much

of what she can’t care for? 

How do you avoid learning

With such an abundance of

opportunity?  And

How does it feel to hurt but

remain untouched

 by the one who brought you

to the dance?

Keeping me off the streets:

The book:  Katherine by Anya Seton – historical fiction classic I should have read long ago, way better than the book I dumped for it (The Inner Circle, ewwww, embarrassing).  Knights, ladies, jousting in medieval England, ahhhh. Escapism is good.

The movie:  Since I know there are no spiders this time – Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, tomorrow!

The food:  Yummy recipe for black beans @ Simply Recipes

The blog:  See Simply Recipes; subscribe to Simply Recipes; have an inbox with a happy full tummy

The job:  Managing 100 or so junior volunteers and preparing a presentation on how I do that without completely losing my mind, to be presented at our state conference.

The nagging question:  Will I ever get used to living in a town where I’m constantly building relationships and then saying goodbye? This must be a bit what it’s like to be a long-term  military family. I don’t know if I’m cut out for this, considering that I don’t even like to interview job candidates because I have trouble maintaining distance during the interview and then it’s hard to reject someone I just bonded with for an hour. Sigh.

We visited another church today; what else is new?  This one was “happy clappy” as our Irish friends would say. Meaning charismatic, only in this case, it truly was only a lot of clapping, movin’ and groovin’. Even the pastor did a bouncy jump up and down like-you’re-at-a-rock-concert thing. Of course, I was standing next to ‘Stick’ and ‘In the Mud’, otherwise Known as my family members.  So I kept it under control.

Friendly people. Good band. Didn’t recognize any of the choruses. Not a pew Bible nor hymnal to be seen anywhere. Nor a cross, for that matter. Which is oddly dissonant with the welcome packet handout that described “impassioned orthodoxy” as a chief descriptor of the church planting organization that is behind this church. Oh well. I wasn’t bothered; just couldn’t help noticing.

Afterwards, our lunch conversation centered around the fact that we have visited thirty gazillion churches in this town and we could not think of a ONE that had a service under 90 minutes.  A moment of silence for all those long-suffering nursery and children’s church workers! Wow.  In this one respect, my husband would be happy to find a radical departure from the norm.

Next week, Presbyterian. Hello, pipe organ and one hour service. Meet my family – they are so happy to see you.

If you build it………………..

 

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THEY

 

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Just might come!!

 

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Finally, I have an excuse for the closeness I’ve always felt with Kevin Costner.

The dream, the work, the spending of frivolous dollars , the passion for something bigger than oneself,

 the lemonade shared with James Earl Jones………………we did it!!  Begone ye 

scoffers, pessimists, and ne’er do wells……………

Bring on the monarchs, baby!

I am not very good at some things -

Can’t ski,

Can’t fish,

Can’t do algebra,

Can’t abide Adam Sandler,

But I excel at choosing good nephew gifts, especially considering I have only raised girls.

No lame aunt gifts from me.

My Aunt Nancy always gave me the best gifts when I was a girl. It was like she knew just the perfect item that I hadn’t even thought of until I opened it and then I wondered how I ever lived without it. Like my first real brush and mirror vanity set. And my first real makeup kit.  Her gifts were cool. She was cool.

So I have a torch to carry. A tradition to uphold. A legacy to maintain. It’s a burden, but it’s my duty.

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My nephew is 10 today. I wish I could be there when he opens his gift and this spills out:

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He’s had a strong gag reflex since he was a baby, so I’m pretty sure he won’t eat a cricket.

But I’m also pretty sure he’ll have a great time trying to get his sister to eat one.

 

Picnik_collage

 

At least they’re low in sugar. I wouldn’t want to be a bad influence.

Request from a 16 year-old girl:

I will be driving to ____________ so can I have a parking permit?

My car tag # is __________ and my car is a 2006 red VW bug.

Thank you.

Dear 16 year-old Girl:

No, you may not have a parking permit because your car is 8 years newer than mine, is way cuter than mine, and is my favorite color. My car is white and your grandma wouldn’t be seen in it.  I have a master’s degree and have been working almost all of my life since I was 14, and I  have had only one even semi-sporty new car one time only, and by then I was in my 20’s and working full time.

When I was 16  I was working and going to college and high school. And paying for my own clothes. Because my dad would not. When  I got a car, my dad did co-sign for me, but that was the extent of his support.  I made every payment myself. And paid the insurance once I turned 18. And put all the gas in it.

I am glad to know you but you just happened to send me this request the same week my old car’s  door lock stopped working on the driver’s side, along with the remote keyless entry. The remote keyless entry was my favorite thing about my car. It helped me cope with other shortcomings. Your note has caused me to require repentance for the mean thoughts I’ve been having since I read it. Could you not have timed it better? I’m going on vacation in a couple of weeks; you could have sent it then.

I really like you and I’m sure I’ll get over this and get you a parking permit. Probably. In the meantime, I need you to hug your car every day and tell it how much you love it, how lucky you are to have it, and how undeserving you are. Because, trust me - you are. 

Best wishes,

Longsuffering Worthy Person

Last night I attended a church service in which the guest speaker was billed as a “prophet”. As I had never attended a non-pentecostal church that would host a “prophet”, I was naturally eager to attend. I’ll admit it – my motives were mixed. Of course I desire a life and a manner that reflect the work of the Spirit; but I also was dying to see how the priest would handle it if things got wild.

I am into the Spirit, but I’m all OVER the topic of leadership, and I figured this might turn out to be a demonstration of how a good leader can rein in a rogue speaker. It’s a skill that could come in handy sometime. At work, I present trainings with other speakers and I’ve dealt with a few colleagues who stray a bit from my carefully scripted and time-detailed agenda. But to have the courage to hand over the podium to someone who might not only start a rabbit chase of a story, but shout it in an unknown tongue, or who might approach an audience member and demand that the demon leave his body, well, that’s freaky courageous in my book. I absolutely couldn’t wait to see how it would be handled in this staid place.

The speaker was like others with similar beliefs to whom I’ve listened, meaning that the filling of the Spirit, in my experience, can make one “rough around the edges”.  It seems the Spirit is not James Bond smooth, but rather a cross between Homer Simpson and Andy Griffith. For example, when she got to the part of the evening to start calling people forward to pray or prophesy over them, she didn’t point and call them; she said “Sister Yellow Shirt, come on up here, quickly”! or “Brother Beard, come here”!  I found that a bit  irreverent. It didn’t help that some people apparently display the filling of the Spirit by laughing, and Sister Yellow Shirt and Young Man Directly Behind Me were chuckling from the get go. I didn’t know if they were laughing *at* her or *with* her, but it didn’t seem to matter to Sister Prophet. 

By the way,when Sister Yellow Shirt went forward and received prayer, she ended up lying on the floor and stayed there the entire 2 hours and 45 minutes.  I was thinking SYS was one smart cookie. Or very filled with a restful spirit. Either of which made me admire her. I am not the one to laugh out loud at a speaker in church and then lie on the floor and take a nap; I’m the one who got in trouble, along with my mom and brother, for getting a case of the giggles in church, thereby making my dad angry all through lunch – and yes, I remember it 35 years later. I get away with NOTHING! But not SYS; she was cozy as could be; they put a blanket over her, while I sat there cold but trying not to cross my arms across my chest and thereby send out a negative vibe to either Sister Prophet or the Spirit. I want to believe, Lord help my unbelief!

The speaker sang a bit, and her voice was beautiful, but then she let it drop that the CD we were listening to was one she recorded on a studio visit where God had given her and the band all the music and songs the day they showed up to record. She didn’t even know the words, she had to learn them afterwards. Okaayy, but hey, that melody sounds just like one of the Disney princess ballads, and I wonder if she was watching The Little Mermaid or Pocahantas before she left for the studio? Is it wrong of me to sit here and think that if God is going to provide you with music and lyrics, He would create something completely new? And if not, and He uses Disney themes sometimes to provide a melody, how does He feel about some Christian groups who have denounced Disney for providing benefits to gay couples? I am so easily distracted, it saddens me.

Since the priest chose to let things ride and there was to be no sudden clever tide change, I spent the time torn  between trying to keep my mind pried open long enough to acknowledge the beauty in some concepts presented (speak life into your family, speak Jesus into your children) on the one hand, and on the other hand, thinking how some of the prophecies were so general as to remind me of people who say they get messages from the dead and then proceed to tell you something very generic like “I see a loss”, when we all know good and well any woman over 15 has had some kind of loss that just about killed her or felt like it would.

I hate that I am so analytical sometimes and I sit and wonder what I’ll do if she calls on me and wondering if she does, how she’ll do it. Please oh please God don’t let it be “Sister Needs to Lose 50 Lbs, Come Here”!. Unless she can speak weight loss into me……but she’s not thin; she’s bigger than me. So I don’t think that’s an option.

I wonder, does the fact that I would sit here and ponder whether this lady could say something in an unknown language over me like “God take away all her fat and make her never want to eat one bite more than her body needs AMEN!” and it could work mean that I need serious therapy?  Or is that the beam of my little bitty faith shining through?  I can’t say for sure, but I trust the Spirit will eventually tell me. With an original melody and lyric. Please.

 

 

 

 

Take a wild guess which one I sprayed in my hair a couple of weeks ago………

 

 

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Now, guess which one I (attempted) to use to thicken a peanut sauce today……………

 

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 Uh-huh. This is the beginning of the end. Next thing you know I’ll carefully drip my nasal spray into my eyes, but at least then I’ll be blind and finally have an excuse for myself. I need a keeper.

You know I just love this………….

and this……….

and this too………..

<

But this?


And this?

And especially THIS?

They make me ill. A gardener’s work is never done.
Time to kill things.

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GREAT QUOTES THOUGHT STREAM

"A biography of any literary person ought to deal at length with what he read and when, for in some sense, 'we are what we read.'" --Joseph Epstein, quoted in Proust and the Squid, by Maryanne Wolf ******************************************

 

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