It’s a Conspiracy I Tell You!!

Sunday night I broke a bowl.  My sister-in-law’s bowl.  My sister-in-law’s vintage Pyrex bowl.  My sister-in-law’s vintage Pyrex bowl that’s part of a four-bowl nesting set. 

And I broke it to smithereens. 

S.M.I.T.H.E.R.E.E.N.E.S!!

And to add insult to injury injury to insult, I cut my hand up in the process.  Of course.

Most were tiny superficial cuts.  No big deal but they sure helped earn more sympathy from the bystanders in my kitchen.  I did have one significant cut that worried me.  A nice flap, about 3/4 of an inch in length that sat right at the base of my thumb, close to my wrist.   Of course.  Because we all know that cuts near a joint heal so easily with all that movement going on.

So, as everyone scurried around me, very efficiently sweeping up glass, holding children at bay (why is it that children are drawn like magnets to a scene of disaster that they could easily get hurt in too?!  Seriously!  They come out of the woodwork at the sound of breaking glass!  But that’s a topic for another time), vacuuming and moping up every last fleck of injury-causing glass splinters, I stood there, paper towel clamped to my wrist, inwardly wringing my hands at the thought of my sister-in-law’s broken glass bowl.  I was frantically trying to remember who gave her the bowl set and therefore the sentimental value possibly attached to it.  I was distraught at the thought of a memory I couldn’t replace.  Oh, I would replace the bowl alright.  Even if I had to scour Ebay for months in the wee hours of every morning.  But what if my my precious mother-in-law (who passed away suddenly 8 years ago) had given her the set?!  My heart absolutely seized up and refused to beat at that thought.  Seriously. 

My sister-in-law of course was amazingly gracious, turning down my offer of the same bowl in my own set, and joked about setting her dad on the hunt for a new bowl, since he always has to have something to hunt for.

Sorry.  Did my title say a conspiracy?  Oh! Yeah!  That’s right.  There is one.  I promise.  It’s coming up…

Hubby and I quickly glued the cut together and steri-striped it for support.   In the process, we realized that I would need to go buy some more First Aid glue since what we had on hand was drying up.  Shock of all shocks, we actually haven’t had to use it at all the last 6 months!  That’s a record for us I’m sure. 

And herein lies the conspiracy… thanks for hanging in there for so long… Me?  Long winded?  Naahhhhh! 

I can’t find that darn glue anywhere!  Not grocery stores, not pharmacies, not corner markets, not street corner drug dealers…  (I KID on that last one!)

It’s gone.  **POOF** Gone!

Wake up!  Wakie, wakie! **shaking computer monitor**  Rise and shine!  Here’s my theory finally!

I think the Government has pulled all the First Aid glue off the store shelves.

**Gasps of Horror** 

Why would They do this?  Well, I think it’s just one more step of Them pulling power away from individuals and keeping it to Themselves. 

If we can’t glue our own flaps of skin together at home, we’ll be forced to spend hours in the ER, waiting to be seen by an overworked, exhausted doctor (if you’re lucky) and billed for hundreds of dollars by our insurance company for months down the road. 

There!  I said it!

I’m already designing my protest signs. 

“Let Us Glue Ourselves!”

“Hands Off Our Superficial Wounds!!”

“I May Have Had Less Training But I’ve Had More Sleep!”

I know there have to be much whitier slogans to write but I haven’t had my second cup of coffee after being woken up 8 times last night by a toddler with nightmares… err, I mean, umm, my fingers still waking up from my 18 hours of REM sleep last night? 

Yeah!  That’s it! 

What would your sign say?  

Please pipe in if you know where I can get some First Aid glue.  Like, serious glue, folks.  Not that Liquid Bandage stuff.  It’s great and all but only for covering wounds, not holding skin flaps together while they heal.

Meanwhile I’m going to stock up on regular ol super glue.  Next thing you know, the Government’ll catch wind that desperate wounded people will resort to gluing their gashes with Super Glue.  Then **POOF** it’ll silently disappear off the store shelves too. 

Mark my words.

Just remember you heard it hear first.

Note added: No that’s not my pyrex collection in the picture at the top.  But I wish it was.  I think I’d sit on the floor and just stare at it all day and let the dirty lowly plastic dishes pilled up in the sink.  That picture is just beautiful to me.

Like a Ton o’ Bricks

 Today was another milestone… the kind that catches you off guard and takes a minute to sink in but the ton of bricks come crashing out of the sky none the less.

Lil Blue doesn’t need a step-stool anymore.  I watched today as he stretched up on his tippy toes and washed his hands at the bathroom sink.  This event followed very closely on the heels of him being able to get up on and down off the toilet without his trusty little red side kick.

At first I was excited.  No more step stool carrying through the house from one bathroom to the next.  Hooray!  No more stubbed Mama-toes during midnight bathroom trips in the dark. Hooray!  No more precious floor space used up by our stout four-legged companion.  Hooray! 

But then I heard the faint roaring sound from above… like the distant roar of an approaching earthquake.   It’s the dreaded sound of time marching on.  It’s always there, in the background.  We just usually drown out the sound with our business.  Keep moving, keep moving, keep moving… only, we can never move faster than Time.  Sometimes the roar of Time is disguised by the cheering and clapping around you as monumental event is applauded and rewarded.  It’s even been known to go crashing by in our absence. Ever miss a child’s first step because of work?  Or a first book ever read because of vacation?  ‘Nough said.

Today I wanted to desperately to jam the lifetime supply of cotton balls from the nearby bathroom cupboard (does anyone else have the same bag of cotton balls that they bought 5  years ago?!) into my ears to drown out the rumbling of Time.  If I don’t hear it, does it mean it’s moving?  No more step-stool means no more chubby little feet stepping up for a little boost of height.  No more half-naked (or all naked as the case may be) 2 year old noisily dragging the stool through the house just so he can “use your baffroom Mom”.  

No more help from mom.

Now, that’s not totally true of course.  But it’s how Time makes me feel today.  I’m being phased out.  It’s a good thing. 

But it’s a sad thing.

So while I add the step-stool to the garage sale mountain pile, I’ll relish one of my few last bathroom mom-duties…

…. reaching the soap for him.

Julie and Julia

I don’t know if you’ve seen the commercials for this new movie or not.  I think it’s an interesting concept. 

 

(My favorite line: “I could write a blog, I have thoughts!”)

I have to admit, I’m tempted to go finger through the shelves of the used book stores in my area for Julia’s first cookbook.  I have no idea what the recipes are but I KNOW they aren’t easy.  And frankly, at least half of them are probably dishes that my children wouldn’t touch to their lips if their lives depended on it.  I’m sure the recipes are labor-intensive, not quick 30 minute dishes that are the frequent meals that grace my table.  And I’m also pretty sure that there aren’t bright, colorful photos attached to each recipe walking me through step by step.

BUT, despite all those possible negatives… what IF, my children actually like even half the dishes?  Or, dare I say, maybe even more than half?  Like maybe even two-thirds? **gasp!**

And what IF, I realize that even though the recipes require more than three ingredients, I actually enjoy the extra cooking time?

I’m a big fan of photos… I’m a whannabe photographer afterall… but there is something so gloriously vintage about a black and white recipe page… makes me want to don my heels and scalloped apron, pretend my microwave doesn’t exist and start washing all my dishes by hand. 

This trailer has got me thinking…. What are some things you think would be cool to tackle and see through to the very, very, VERY end?

You know, if you actually had time?

And a cleaning lady?

And a laundry fairy?

I’m still trying to figure out my own answer… so many options to consider! 

Just a little food for thought.

HAH!  Get it?!!  FOOD for thought?!! 

Sorry.  I think the 100 degree heat is sizzlin’ my brain.  Please, get back to contemplating and forget my poor attempt at humor.

I’m Gonna Start Talking To Myself!

I stumbled across a woman’s story from a blog I frequent.  Her story has rocked my world.   Apparently I need that every couple months; my world to be rocked that is. I’ve become so bogged down by all that is petty in my life. I’ve been let down by friends, unhappy in the routines of wife/motherhood, and felt mediocre in every aspect of my life. I had realized the past couple weeks, that I do nothing well. I have felt that I’m average in everything. Oh, I’m a better wife but not a good wife. I’m a decent cook but not a good cook. I’m a middle-of-the-road momma but not a good mom. I’m a work in progress as a child of God but I’m not a good child. I could go on but I’ll spare you the petty drama. 

But the truth is, I’ve let discontent run rampant in my life lately. And THAT is sin. And it is SATAN. It is DISTRACTION.  Satan’s goal is to simply distract as many Christians as he can.  He doesn’t have to lead astray or sway me from my beliefs.  He knows that’s too tough a battle.  Ah, but distracting me from being an effective child of God.  Now that is easy.  Frighteningly so.

And after watching Rachel’s talk, I know it’s been all about me. And it’s all been petty. It’s been me, trying to find my purpose outside of what God wants for me. And truthfully? I don’t know what His purpose is for me, not the details of it anyway. But I do know my purpose overview: To love Him and to serve Him with Joy. (I’m writing it all over my house) So that is my focus now. Today I’ve stopped listening to myself and I’m going to begin talking to myself… (writing that one everywhere too) listen to Rachel. She’ll explain. Oh! And I’m saying “Yes!” today. =0)

Death is Not Dying

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The Sabbath

I’ve started to work on something. 

My Sabbath.

I really desire to have my “Sabbath” to be different from the rest of my week.  But that takes a week of planning in order to pull off a true day of rest.

But I think that might be the point.  Just like our worship must be purposeful and intentional, and our quiet times, our actions, our words,  so must our day of rest be.  I not only choose to set aside my daily chores for one day a week and instead spend time with my family and in prayer but it also needs to be on my mind every day of the week, planning a little more each day and getting an extra chore done each day in order to “pull it off”. 

I’ve been attempting this new (for me) Day of Rest half-heartedly the past few weeks.  Because of only half-hearted attempts, my Days of Rest have still included washing a couple loads of laundry and folding three, sweeping floors, cooking and preparing three meals, unloading and loading the dishwasher.  Less chores than a normal day, yes but far from the day of rest it could be if only I’d planned better, each day.

So this week is my first attempt at An Intentional Day of Rest.  

One day I’ll cook and freeze a dinner for Hubby and I to enjoy on our day of rest (the kids eat popcorn and fruit).  Another day I’ll catch up on all the laundry, instead of just doing a load.  I’ll decide ahead of time on our clothes for that day and make sure that if any of it needs ironing or cleaning up… yup, you guessed it… that it’s done aheadof time.  And the day before our Sabbath?  I’ll get the bathrooms cleaned, sandwiches made for our Day of Rest lunch,  unload the dishwasher so that it’s ready for quick and easy loading the next day.  The way I see it, if I plan, the only “chore” I should have to do is sweep after each meal.  

There’s not much way around that one.  

‘Cuz crunching around on three meals worth of crumbs and food chunks is just too much of a distraction for this ol heart.

So this week, as part of the intentionalpart of my Day of Rest, I will posting what I’ve done each day in preparation for my Sabbath.  I might even include a post of recipes that either freeze or refrigerate easily for quick, no-work meals.  If this is something you’d like to join in on, feel free to!  Let me know ahead of time and I’ll add a Mr. Linky so that you can link up your AIDOR (An Intentional Day of Rest) post.  You don’t need a blog to join in and share your tips and chores.  Just add a comment on my daily AIDOR post telling us what you did that day as you strive for your Day too.  My AIDOR picture is not a “button” yet but if you’d like it to be, just let me know. 

I’m excited to see the outcome after a week of working towards this goal.  It’ll be a huge for me.  Really huge.

Take My Life… For Your Glory…

This evening, as Hubby and I were in Church, there was a whole family of several generations, sitting in the row in front of us.  Tonight were baby dedications so there were many extended family members present who don’t normally attend our Church.

But my attention was caught by the grandmother, or rather, the GREAT-grandmother.  She was easily well into her 80’s, needing help up and a steadying hand to hold her while she caught her balance, every time we stood for a prayer or song.  I half expected her to quit standing and stay seated after the first song or two.  But no, she kept getting up each time.  Her hair was disheveled, flattened on a couple sides and sticking out straight on the others.  Her aged frame was bent from a lifetime of living and the rigors that it brings.  Her hands, though gnarled and twisted with arthritis, had well-cared for nails. 

At first, it was her hands that drew my second look.  As uncomfortable as it had to have been for her, she clapped along during every song.  Her body, too unstable to sway to a melody, remained still but her hands told a different story.   They kept time with the beat.  They moved with grace and eagerness despite their frailness. 

And so my attention was led from her hands on to her face.  Or rather, the side of her face as that was all my view would afford.  She sang along!  She wasn’t just enjoying the music, she knew the words and appeared to be singing her heart out.  This lady was praising her God.  She wasn’t going to let any old, tired, aching body stand in her way.  No ma’am.  

In my mind’s eye, I could see her as she might have been picturing herself… dancing and swaying on nimble, agile feet before the very throne of her Savior.  I’m certain that’s how our honest, true worship must look to God.  He sees our souls, our true selves, as they really are.  Our souls aren’t bogged down with earthly years of toil and the physical abuse that our bodies must endure.   And for those brief moments I watched this dear sweet lady, I saw her soul…  

Her hands, that now were beautiful and lovely to me and no longer twisted and damaged, stilled their clapping as she lifted them up, closed her eyes in concentrated praise and sang those words directly to her Lord.  The words that she was singing?

“…Take my life and let it be, all for You and for Your glory.  Take my life and let it be Yours…” 

Suddenly I was struck with the lesson this beautiful, fragrant picture of a true worship offering was showing me… this woman, with most of her life already lived, STILL found reason to devote and dedicate her life to Him.  She was still choosing to give Him her all.  She wasn’t sitting in her seat, saying to herself that she’d already done her part for Him.  That she’d paid her dues.  That she’d given Him her best days and now she was content to take it easy and let the younger folks take up the slack.  No.  She was still striving to bring Him glory.  She still wanted “in” on the blessing of glorifying Him in any and every way possible.

And then I felt the sting of regret.  This sweet lady was showing me up.  Not that it is a contest.  It’s not.  But we were practically side by side examples of worship for God to see.  And while I love worshiping my Lord.  And I love to spend my quiet times with Him.  And I strive to only become closer and more intimate with Him, never taking a step that doesn’t follow His Will… What about my days that I don’t feel good?  What about the days I’m just too tired from a night of interrupted sleep?  How much glory does God receive from me when my hair doesn’t cooperate, I feel my wardrobe is severely lacking and I’m consumed with my earthly appearance instead of my heavenly one?  During my grumpy, impatient and/or stressed out moments, would God even desire my life if I’d bothered to take my eyes off myself long enough to actually offer it to Him? 

But look at her.  Just look at her.  For all earthly accounts and purposes, she has a lot to complain about.  But tonight?  I didn’t see any complaining in her body language.  Nope.  She was pure joy.  She was happy to be at Church and she was happy to offer up, again, her life to glorify God. 

Amazing.

Ouch…

Yet another kick in the pants to get my heart jolted out of it’s funk and into the place it should be.

I’m hoping she’ll be there next week. 

I’m not the fastest learner.

Oh Happy Day!!

Oh happy day, happy day

You washed my sin away

Oh happy day, happy day

I’ll never be the same

Forever I am changed

 

A New Favorite

Have you noticed my absence lately?  Well, it’s for a few different reasons.  Trying for better time management, trying to NOT ignore my children and NOT to escape so much into bloggyland… but also I’ve been struggling with Satan.  He was working OT last week on my emotions.

One of the emotional battles I’ve been dealing with is because a couple weeks ago I received news that a childhood family friend was diagnosed with stage 5 cancer.

He’s been given 3 months to live.

He’s 37.

He has two children, 7 and 5.

BUT!  He has an amazing relationship with his Lord.  He is happy to have the opportunity to live in the light of only months to live. He is looking forward to meeting Jesus face to face.

I had a weird thought as I was watching LOST this week… is it weird to be in his shoes and be watching a show like that, knowing that you will never know the answers to all these plots that are going on? I’m afraid I was quite peturbed by that thought. I think because it actually put a little of his diagnosis into perspective. I mean, I am far more grieved for his children, who will have to grow up with out him and for him to miss out on their lives, than I am by him missing tv – TRUST me. But I think that is kind of a “fuzzy” thought to me. I can try to imagine what it would be like but I really cannot grasp that concept. But somehow, in relation to LOST, it hits home. I hope that makes some sort of sense.

About the same time as I got word on my friend, a (different) friend and I had the opportunity to go to the Rock and Worship Concert in our area. FABULOUS! It was an effort headed up by MercyMe and Jeremy Camp to put on a great show for a low cost ($10 you guys! Seriously! That’s all it was to get in!) . I confess I went mostly to see them as a fan not really for the worship opportunity. But wow! Did God ever have different ideas for me. He used it to help begin the process of breaking me out of a serious funk. One of the bands was Tenth Avenue North who I had never heard before. I instantly loved them. They actually posted the words to their songs on the big screen so we could sing along… I felt invited to actually worshipwith them instead of just being a concert-goer.  And when the songs have such powerful, no-holds-barred words, well, you can’t help appreciate it.  Here’s a few of my favorites that I found on youtube. 

The third one you have to go to youtube to see.  Click here

I think I went a bit overboard in my youtube-ing but know that I did practice some restraint… there were at least three more that I wanted to share with you.   In fact, one I’ve saved to share with you on Easter. 

Thanks for hanging in there with me.  I promise I’ll have happier posts in the future

Angie and Nolan

I realize it’s been a couple weeks since I wrote about the Lamberths.  But after I read a blog update from Angie, I thought it important to bring her to your attention again.  Please, please continue to lift her and 6 year old Nolan to the loving feet of Jesus.  We need to be as commited to praying for them as we were to for praying Mark during his month in the hospital after his accident.  (If you are new to the Lamberths situation, please see my previous posts here and here and here to get caught up) 

Here is Angie’s update:

Moment by Moment

February 4, 2009 by angielamberth

It’s completely different to mourn with Mark than it is to mourn without him. Truly I am empty right now. I really have no strength of my own, and I believe that whatever people are seeing is God getting me through this. I miss Mark on a level I can’t express and don’t fully understand. It’s missing another person and a part of myself. My purpose is mixed up. Our plans no longer exist.

Such a tremendous sadness. In the morning I wake to it. It’s a reality that is so difficult to even let my mind think of. Every morning when it sinks in just a bit I can’t help but throw up. Nolan gets the same way when he’s overwhelmed. He even threw up when I took him to school this morning.

But what I thank God for is that it’s not like that all day. I think it would be without hope. In the morning, as soon as I start to awake it’s like I’m slapped in the face with reality. Mark is gone. It wasn’t just a nightmare. He’s really gone and he’s never coming back. But moment by moment God takes me through the day. And I don’t stay so sad. Life doesn’t stay so dismal. God truly gives me hope. I am hoping that He will redefine my purpose. Give me direction and set His plans before me. I am encouraged throughout the day through God’s promises. Knowing where Mark is. Thanking God for the amazing love that we were able to share and the time that He gave us. That helps so much…to look at all the blessings that God has given us. Especially for our little guy.

I am thankful for you all. Your comments and prayers encourage me throughout the day.

 

If you’d like to read the blog that was set up for the Lamberths at the start, right after Mark’s injury and is where Angie’s update can be found, go to www.prayforthelamberths.com .  If you go there, please leave Angie a note.  She’ll appreciate it.

Thanks bloggy friends.

 

 

Mark is Home

Mark went home to Heaven Thursday at 5:30pm. 

Yes, it’s taken me a couple days to manage to write this down. 

I’d started several times, does that count?

I just couldn’t quite get the words right, to match how I feel.  But my good ol pal, Tess, wrote what I’d been feeling and after reading her post, it freed up the “juices” that I needed to get going in order to write my own.

I don’t have questions.  And that right there is a hard thing to explain.  I don’t feel that that means I trust God more than those who do have questions.  No, I have lots of areas of mistrust in my relationship with Christ.  Maybe it’s because I’ve already had to deal with similar situations already in my life (nope, you won’t find ‘em here on my blog yet).  I don’t know.  But I KNOW God has reasons, probably hundreds of reasons, and they all have names.  I KNOW that God knew the number of Mark’s very breaths… both voluntary and involuntary… He knew the number of Christmas’ and Birthdays Mark would share with his precious son… He knew the number of anniversaries Mark and Angie would share, including the final one that Angie would celebrate in the hospital by blessing otherICU families in the name of the love that she and Mark share(d)….  God KNOWS everything and He orchestrated it from before the world was created.  And He loves Mark, Angie and Nolan more than the rest of us, collectively, ever could. 

Mark is free.  Mark is hiking the glorious hills of Heaven with no physical pain or suffering.  No human limitations or needs.  He’s scoping out the romantic spots he’ll want to bring Angie when she joins him.  He’s making notes of all the awesome “guy” things he can show and teach Nolan.  And he’s in the amazing presence of his Father.  His mind is being blown right now with the realization and instant understanding of all the facts about God.  Facts that the rest of us are still struggling to comprehend or are even aware of here on earth. 

What I struggle with, is the sense of loss and devastation for Angie and Nolan.  I can’t help but look at my own family and realize how robbed (from a human perspective) Angie and Nolan are.  I worry about the months of lonely, heartbreaking nights head for Angie and the struggles Nolan faces as he tries to grasp the loss of his father.  I worry because I know that what it all boils down to, is the fact that there is little that we can do for either of them in these areas.  Oh, we can meet physical needs like no-body’s business.   We have, we are and we will.   And in those small ways,  some comfort will be gleaned by Angie and Nolan.  But the real hurt, the real loneliness, that can only be touched and eased by our Heavenly Father. 

I know He has been holding them close this whole time.  I know He will continue.  And I know He will bless Angie with the strength she needs, when she needs it and not a moment too soon or too late.  

I also know that I will strive to never, ever, take my children or my husband for granted.  I will take more pictures.  I will create more memories. 

No one, NO ONE, is promised tomorrow. 

So each day, as I pray for Angie and Nolan in their new life… as they try to establish a new sense of normal in spite of their grief and loss, I will be thankful for that day that I have been blessed with.