The last weekends have consisted of different ones of us bowling, sneaking away from the others for Sweet Frog yogurt, running a mud bog fund raiser, helping with a surprise party, and taking off to to the rodeo. Madalynn tested for and got her yellow belt. Macklynn's baseball team made it to the championships.
Last week most all of us attended a local VBS, and Melody rescued a baby deer from the mouths of our own dogs but was not as fortunate finding two of the kittens before they did.
Now, two of our dogs must go. We caught one cornering Mama Mosey's baby goat today. Michael and Megan are going to take it hard seeing their dogs off.
Michael's been to Miranda's ENT doctor and has no interest in the solution he suggests for his congestion. So, to avoid surgery he's taking allergy medicine morning and night.
It's settling in on McKala that her recovery is a long haul. The family she housesat for wants her to move in as a helper. She's been given a car. God has not forgotten her.
She posted recently something to the tune of, "If you see me smiling, it isn't because my life is perfect. It means I appreciate what God has given me." There's just no good reason not to smile and be friendly with people.
We get this a lot, "I didn't know anything was wrong. You seem so happy." It's not that we're not happy or that we're faking it or that we don't have to face the dark like everyone else does. We just know it's not about us, and that it isn't right not to be interested in the events of other people's lives.
As a matter of fact, I've been having some rough months myself, plus found out last week that my good and bad cholesterol aren't jiving. Yet, two different women sent me messages in the last week that they haven't seen me lately and miss my ever present smile. Then, Saturday morning after another one and I talked through some hard stuff, she came to the door as I was leaving and said, "I love you." I don't think she tells that to too many people.
Man, that's what it's about. She didn't know it but she made my week, month probably. Pouring into other people is all in the world that matters. Period.
The employees and spouses of SP get a yearly all expenses paid weekend at The Cove in Asheville. So, three weekends ago Mike and I took advantage of it. It was fabulous, from the renowned speakers and Aaron Shust's tear jerking testimony and daily worship performances, to the catered style buffets and indelible service. But what was better was conversation after conversation of deep spiritual commonalities, good and bad, with other wives and volunteers.
First though, we got an invitation to spend the night with Mike's fellow driver/mechanic. They took us to a quaint restaurant and proceeded to share with us stories of their adventures. It materialized the next morning when I dropped his wife off with her friend on the Blue Ridge Parkway so they could cycle to Asheville. 90 miles! Her hair is white, her children having been grown for years.
They sent home with us a movie, "Machine Gun Preacher," true story of Sam Childers's conversion and how he now uses his resources to rescue children in the war zone of South Sudan. It's racy to say the least. I've never seen anything like it. It makes The American Way seem so shallow.
Miranda rented "Unbroken" for Mike yesterday, Father's Day. After a day of good preaching and berry picking, it was sobering. Mr. Zamperini endured what the rest of us could never imagine, yet most of us can't even endure the hardness of marriage. Melody had watched it at the theater and thought enough of it to mail the book to her Pop.
Not long ago, Michael and I watched a documentary called, "Such Were Some of You." It's many, many testimonials of ones who've left the homosexual lifestyle, how they got in it to start with and how they recovered. Most importantly how we might help others do the same.
These kinds of things are what our kids have grown up on. I have to bring them the "meat" for them to mature. I take it seriously. My goodness, if they're gonna be entertained, let it be something that turns them to Christ. Or once they're grown, you'll be spending the time you finally get to spend on others suffering what you didn't teach your children the first go-round. Nothing, not one thing, not one dream, not one goal that draws your attention away is worth losing a child to this world.
I heard Elisabeth Elliott on the radio today and her words bring to mind again that I have no care for the things of this earth. I'm good with the clothes on my back. What in the United States of America does it matter that I wear the same pair of pants to church every Sunday? What difference does it make if I wear the same T-shirts over and over, just as long as I'm clean and no offense? I'd just as soon have one set of sheets, one towel, one glass, and one plate. I had a notion to start throwing things out of the house today and hauling them off on the trailer. Don't think I won't. But I had to wash dishes and clean my bathroom. As a matter of fact, I still have Comet in my hair as a I sit here in Virgie's recliner, wondering if her weakness is a passing virus or the quick declining of a long life.
I'll sleep in this chair tonight instead of the bed because I've done something to my neck spending time in the evenings proofreading my "book." I like what it says so far, but I don't know how it'll be received. All I know is no amount of "testifying" will ever be worth neglecting the mental, physical, and especially spiritual needs of every single one of my children. I still have work to do at home and always will.
And I'll forever be trying to figure out that husband of mine. Because for all bidding things good riddance, Mike is still winsome and fun loving.
I had a list a mile long of chores Saturday, but he swept me away to the lake, just the two of us. I have to admit that when I finally loosened up and started hossing the jet ski around, I loved it. The smaller, older versions have their advantages. One is "paid in full" and the other is that they can "drift" over the water in sharp turns, much like the cars that do. It was a workout for sure, and I have four blisters to prove it.
He and I may never be alike, so I can have all the high aspirations I want. But I signed up to be his help meet and if fun is what he wants, then fun is what he'll get. If not, all my kids will remember is that I was the party pooper. And all that I will get as a wife is a bad review. How about you?
