I'm sitting in the Social Services office applying for help. Mike drove me here yesterday to begin the processes. I wouldn't feel so lame if this were the first time.
I cut several inches off my hair this morning because the "long tall Sally" look isn't working for someone who's looking more like Wynonna Judd. I wouldn't feel so lame if this were the first time.
I was at odds with Mike the whole 2 1/2 weeks he was home. We're having a hard time liking each other, much less loving. The romance reconnection superceded the friend one and we're both disappointed that our recommitment hasn't been the glorious reconciliation we had fantasized of. I wouldn't feel so lame if this were the first time.
I'm in the way again. In the depths of my conscience, I question, "But it's been over 20 years of this." God hears and says, "I'm still working. Would you just stay out of my way."
I fight for things that aren't mine to fight for. I try to right things that aren't mine to right. I've buffered the static for things that aren't meant to be silenced. When I'm quiet, my "friends", be sure that I'm in a clamorous battle, my pilgrimage made difficult by own interference.
Huh, in this lobby of misfits, there's a young couple just like we were, attentive to their precious little ones, passing bananas out to keep them occupied. He has on a familiar boot for an injury. She is well kempt but needs to shed some pounds. There is tension between them as she asks him to help her. I wish I could impart something, anything to them. Though, it'd help if I'd conquered much myself since then.
At home, we've spent these last weeks weighing options. The truck needs extensive repairs. Mike and Michael Jr. had worked for days and hours when Michael discovered a temporary fix. It's on the road now and left behind $166 in the bank.
I just finished an interview with a Medicaid worker. I have such dubious feelings about it all: faithless and patrioticless, that my hand resisted putting pen to paper for the application.
Her stomach growled so loudly that we both laughed. She explained that her nightly dialysis left no time to prepare a meal, so she went to bed. As the paperwork went on, the conversation led to her old friend, who'd given birth to 10 children and as the last one took flight, her sister and her husband were killed in a car wreck leaving her 8 more in the nest - sobering, and goes back to what I expressed about "mother of many" not being an automatic "ticket" for anything - it beckons my humility - which without, no act of mine or anyone's is of Christ.
Yesterday's worker (office #1355 :) shared that the case load in her 12 years has swelled from 250 to well over 500. That speaks to the economy and the depression we're already in, instead of approaching.
Food - we had stored, more for a disaster than a depression. It's come in very handy though. Sauces, broth, herbs, and peppers make a tremendous difference in the taste I can offer the family; I'm so thankful for that. I'll tell you too that opening a gallon can of nacho cheese can cause a stir! A busy summer has left our free range chickens too free and not laying; we haven't gotten to the point of slaughtering anything yet (but perhaps we should be). I've seen where we lack in dairy and protein preparedness but have enjoyed the challenge of putting the fresh, frozen, and canned garden things together with what else we had put back (including mounds of wheat from Y2K ;) ...which leads to my questions about the whole situation.
I've always said I'd rather live in a tent than to break apart what we've built with teaching the children. They're turning out "right". They possibly will be the only "right" we will have contributed. That answer pleased one of our workers and I will be pleased too to only leave that as my heritage. I heard recently that the son of A.A. Milne, creator of Pooh, was quoted that his Dad spent all his time entertaining other children instead of him. I can't go down like that.
So, am I willing to set up camp? I tossed about the idea of shacking up in the big storage building we still have in the mountains. Being on top of each other wasn't appealing to anyone. For years, I've been drawn freakishly to the notion that there is excitement in getting our hands that dirty, seeing if we might possess what it takes to live off the land. After all, John the Baptist ate locusts and honey. To force the children into such conditions, by quitting the over the road business altogether (as I've proposed), is a delicate dilemma. Although, while I was gone seeking assistance today, they were all out "running away" with Madalynn :) because Daddy wouldn't take her in the truck for fear that it'd break down. They hiked down by the creek; Michael started a fire with just flint and a cotton ball; Macklynn caught several fish and wanted to cook them; they were happy as larks when they popped back out of the woods.
We're eying up the road a cheaply priced quaint old home that has been restored on the inside but not the out. Is it time to purchase before bad credit prevents it? Is it even possible? Are we prolonging the inevitable? We're in debt out the wazoo just to stay afloat. Family has bent over backwards to help. What should we do?
There is a problem in being the woman of the couple. I love my position; I also hand over my independence by doing so. Husbands have authority to do as they will and in trusting God, we depend on them. That's a very, very hard row to hoe. I don't hoe it very well and that might be why I'm hoeing the same old spots after 23 years.
Tithing (not to be mistaken with philanthropy which is person centered, not God centered) - I 100% believe is the missing element. We're always against a wall that "prevents" it, which proves to me all the more why it's the "mystery" link. What we've been doing surely isn't working, no matter how we've gone about it. An opportunity to grace someone we know, who is working overseas for Samaritan's Purse, presented itself last week. It's kinda scary to hand back 10%; at the same time, it delights me thoroughly that we could go from "hit and miss" giving to hitting all the time!
In the passenger's seat on the way home yesterday, I became limp. You know when the ride jostles your head around? How I long to remain in that state, away from my own defenses, ready for instruction.
Instead, I let simple things dishearten me, like the editor's pick list from the contest I entered. I wasn't on it. My video was thrown together but I had a spark of hope anyway. What am I thinking? I'm nowhere near close to ready for a national stage.
Our kitchen is the best stage I can think of right now. In creatively scraping together meals, I've been in there a lot and grow more connected as I go. Being "center stage" keeps me in on everyone's intricacies. I'm also grasping the excess that remains since our last "downsizing". 5 of 8 of us are overweight, although that's shifting already. But too many hours are still spent on meaningless things, namely useless entertainment. Too much clutter is creeping in, while thankfulness and kindness are in too short of supply.
So, who am I to get frustrated so readily with Mike? It's a long journey from cursing to blessing, discontent to thankful, despicable to likeable, lazy to industrious, crude to conscientious, dependent to free. I should know, I'm still on my own journey to good.
In prior "downtimes", he'd have never settled for granola as a meal, for TV service disruption, for blood clear of substance, for talking with bill collectors in my stead, and all at the expense of anyone, including the children's modest accounts. It's true, and as I sit here waiting on another appointment, I'm slammed with the reality that Mike is not who he once was but, like so many of us, is also not who he's going to be.
I don't cut him a break and I didn't understand myself why, until I figured today that since he's given me a voice, it's terribly difficult to restrict it, especially when I'm certain I'm right. To settle back into a way of respect, trust, and submission is far easier said than done. But I ...have ...to ...find ...it.
As I was writing all this in my notebook from various slips of paper, the woman 2 seats down at Social Services asked me if I was grading papers. I told her I was just cataloging more of our crazy story, a compulsion I have to write as a witness of things to come. Her name is Melonie. "Her" story brought "mine" to a screeching halt. I'm convinced I had a meeting with destiny because hers is fading away, literally. She says she has cancer and lives in her car. She's 51, but her beautiful hair and teeth don't show it. We talked over healthcare, politics, and religion. When she said she used to believe in God, I surprised myself by crying when I told her I'm sure there is eternity and it might not look like it, but God loves her. She cried too. I may never see the harvest of her on Earth, perhaps because I would relish it too much, but my pitiful seed planting self will pray earnestly for her because her hardness was broken for a split second and that's where hope is born. In wrapping things up here, I'd say for you to pray for us and I hope you do; but as always, someone else, like Melonie, needs it more. So no matter what she did to get as alone as she is, would you, could you, should you hit your knees with me before she's alone forever? You and I were there once or maybe you're there now, so if you don't believe anything else I write, believe there's more out there than what you can see.
Friday, August 10, 2012
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Better Check Your Garden
I hadn't been to the garden in 2 weeks, although it's been on the list daily. We had camp, a collision, college prep, and a trip to Charlotte, among other things. I had a skeleton crew of 2 younger children, so I assumed falsely that since it's rained often and there's been no need to fertilize or use pesticides, that things would hold up. When Michael came home from camp, he rode over on his Daddy's old dirt bike, as he always does, and returned disappointed. He's helped cultivate and pick, becoming fond of the process. Passing through the room, he asked, "What was the point of doing it?"
This morning I walked 2 miles with Miranda before she went to work. When she went in to shower, I nabbed Smokey in the carport to brush away his shedding hair. It made sense to take it on over across the creek to the garden, to deter deer. Driving over and from a distance I was shamed to already see what Michael had described, that except for the corn, it didn't even look like a garden.
I put on my gloves and shouldered the hoe to begin surveying the overgrowth. It didn't take long to find that "strangers" were enjoying our garden. The fish line fence had only fooled them for so long and needs a higher strand now, so the temptation is harder to quench. The garden looks a mess to me but to the onlookers, it must be enticing.
I began with the sweet potatoes, tracks running alongside and leaves nibbled upon. I was glad that they are yet to be ready for harvest ...glad that they lie low as pressing work gets done. I moved to the squash that Mike planted as a second round ...thankful that they are still flowering since the first ones are either overgrown or decaying. Even those can be cast to the cows, removing waste from the picture.
I had moved to the peppers on my knees weeding them by hand before this blog came full circle. Let them, the pepper plants: banana, cayenne, jalepeno, habanero, be our "men", the spice of life. Mine's branches were bending, heavy with produce, peppers ready to drop, a few already had ...for some other creature to acquire ...because I hadn't received what was mine.
Behind me was the corn, some of it trampled on, some of it being eaten away by beatles. Let them be our "friends". I have 2 particular friends I've needed to visit: one being destroyed by trespassers of her yesterdays, one being worn away by the 93 years her body has given her. I was reminded that a note might suffice for now, just as long as they know they aren't forgotten.
The big project will be the 96 tomato plants that we didn't finish putting twine up for between the posts. They are laden with fruit touching the ground, rotting, ripeness wasted. Let them be our "children". We've lost opportunities for relevant learning and sweet moments. The great thing is that there are loads of green tomatoes, gracing me with time to recoop some of those losses.
How little work would I have if I had raised my fence, been a careful steward, and had timely gathering? How about you? Do you even recognize your garden? Would you be distraught if someone visited it? Is someone stealing from it while you look the other way? Are things ruining from the inside out, tossed to the wayside? Have you planted too many seeds, making you spread too thin? Is it all out of sight, out of mind? If so, bring it in closer to home.
The good news is that the ground was still wet and a breeze was blowing. The birds were chirping and the dogs sat guard. There is still time to salvage my mess. God's patience and mercy don't cease to amaze me.
This morning I walked 2 miles with Miranda before she went to work. When she went in to shower, I nabbed Smokey in the carport to brush away his shedding hair. It made sense to take it on over across the creek to the garden, to deter deer. Driving over and from a distance I was shamed to already see what Michael had described, that except for the corn, it didn't even look like a garden.
I put on my gloves and shouldered the hoe to begin surveying the overgrowth. It didn't take long to find that "strangers" were enjoying our garden. The fish line fence had only fooled them for so long and needs a higher strand now, so the temptation is harder to quench. The garden looks a mess to me but to the onlookers, it must be enticing.
I began with the sweet potatoes, tracks running alongside and leaves nibbled upon. I was glad that they are yet to be ready for harvest ...glad that they lie low as pressing work gets done. I moved to the squash that Mike planted as a second round ...thankful that they are still flowering since the first ones are either overgrown or decaying. Even those can be cast to the cows, removing waste from the picture.
I had moved to the peppers on my knees weeding them by hand before this blog came full circle. Let them, the pepper plants: banana, cayenne, jalepeno, habanero, be our "men", the spice of life. Mine's branches were bending, heavy with produce, peppers ready to drop, a few already had ...for some other creature to acquire ...because I hadn't received what was mine.
Behind me was the corn, some of it trampled on, some of it being eaten away by beatles. Let them be our "friends". I have 2 particular friends I've needed to visit: one being destroyed by trespassers of her yesterdays, one being worn away by the 93 years her body has given her. I was reminded that a note might suffice for now, just as long as they know they aren't forgotten.
The big project will be the 96 tomato plants that we didn't finish putting twine up for between the posts. They are laden with fruit touching the ground, rotting, ripeness wasted. Let them be our "children". We've lost opportunities for relevant learning and sweet moments. The great thing is that there are loads of green tomatoes, gracing me with time to recoop some of those losses.
How little work would I have if I had raised my fence, been a careful steward, and had timely gathering? How about you? Do you even recognize your garden? Would you be distraught if someone visited it? Is someone stealing from it while you look the other way? Are things ruining from the inside out, tossed to the wayside? Have you planted too many seeds, making you spread too thin? Is it all out of sight, out of mind? If so, bring it in closer to home.
The good news is that the ground was still wet and a breeze was blowing. The birds were chirping and the dogs sat guard. There is still time to salvage my mess. God's patience and mercy don't cease to amaze me.
Sunday, July 22, 2012
What Mike Would Do
On this past week's 1988 calender of mine, Wednesday says, "Mike in hospital." He was there for smoke inhalation. 19 year old Mike was a volunteer firefighter. Maybe those guys are crazy, looking for a rush; but when my or your child is in danger, we couldn't be more thrilled to know them.
In the news this week is the shooting in Colorado. Several guns the medical student had, taking time to reload ...and no one rushed him. I understand it's a death wish and I definitely have to question myself on it, but I think it's safe to ascertain that one reason we cower to protect our existence is because most of us are simply unsure what will become of us in death. Meanwhile, children were being mowed down. Were there not any "men" in the room, much less civilians bearing arms?
A man's man Mike is. He began early, working outdoors on the golf course. Before that he played football and rode anything with wheels on as few wheels as humanly possible. He hung out at a body shop, went to bartending school, but was an apprentice plumber in Atlanta when I met him. I very clearly remember (down to what was on TV) the man I babysat for asking me if I really wanted to marry someone who did "laborious" work. I can't remember what I said, but I was probably thinking, "You don't know 'Mike'".
In the months leading up to our wedding, he went to truck driving school. It seemed like a great big adventure to him. His was hired to deliver furniture and I went with him anytime there was a break at GSU. For me, it was like getting paid to vacation. Best we can tell, our first daughter was conceived while we were delivering in Intercourse, Pennsylvania!
Before long, he was on to limo driving. He was of such interest to one client from South America, the president of Wells Fargo, that he took Mike in to eat with his family at a very high end restaurant in Atlanta. Ah, and I just remembered that he came to pick me up and take me out one time.
He delivered tankers full of milk for Atlanta Dairies and gas for, was it BP? He even betrayed Coke and delivered Pepsi for a while. And oh yeah, he was a painter for a while, painting jet skis for Yamaha. The guys used to come over after second shift and play cards at our house.
I'm sure he remembers the details better than I but he entered into a partnership with an old friend and began a pizza takeout. It was a good location and great food, almost too good because they had so much business that service became an issue. His friend walked away from the business at the urging of his snooty wife. Then the bottom just fell out.
Mike was on the road again but as a charter bus driver this time. His fondest memory of it is taking a group of teens to Colorado and climbing a mountain with them under a full moon and then basically sliding back down, wondering if he would survive. A close second was a church group and an older black lady who asked him some questions that began an encounter with God. At that point, after much consideration and a visit to the barracks of The 88 Mike, he enlisted in The Army, only to have a car hit him at a red light, with injuries that required knee surgery.
His quest continued with a position as dump truck driver for an explosives company. There, he and another driver decided to go into "business" together and wound up driving and dispatching 7 trucks. This time though, the bottom not only fell out but also sucked in our entire world.
Mike felt like there was nothing to do but start fresh. I, pregnant with our fourth child and first son, moved from Georgia to North Carolina with him ...funny though, we were on our way to Maine, which we'd flown to and loved. His uncle had a propane business nearby and set him up on a Hank Hill stint. At some point, he ended up being an Animal Control Agent for the county, but found himself on the road again when ends weren't meeting.
I forget the order sometimes, but he got back into trucking in the seat of a dump truck he contracted to the state for road work. He tried to expand and employ other drivers, but after several weeks of good report, his best driver "went off" and locked himself in his house. We had to take the truck and still don't know what happened.
Mike always has an ear out for something better and landed a job "piggy backing" Freightliner trucks all over the country. He got to fly back and had so many miles that he rode in first class. It didn't take him long to discover there was better money to be made, so we bought the famous "yellow truck" and began transporting by way of "lowboy", living pretty large ...until the union took over.
He tried hauling used cars and oversized flatbed loads. He finally had "enough" and enrolled in technical school, after all he knew almost everything about engines by then ...interesting that our oldest daughter went instead. Anyone who knows us well knows what happened next: the aortic bypass that sent him and the rest of us into a tailspin and rooted us here in New Hope.
Right now he has his own "authorities", completely responsible for all expenses: insurance, equipment, maintenance, repairs ...with no: paid vacation or holidays or "benefits". What he has though is our 7 year old son on a venture cross country. They started here in North Carolina, drove alongside the Columbia River to Washington State and are on their way back to the east coast, Rhode Island. They've gotten out to touch redwoods and rivers. They've watched the wildlife looking out over the hood of a truck. Each of our children has gotten to do these things.
Erratic much? You betcha. He's a layman, an entrepreneur, and even an inventor. He had a factory build a quality stainless steel telescoping handled carry-on toolbox but the materials were expensive and he just stopped pursuing it. He's a history and current events buff. On its roads for almost a quarter of a century, he's seen the economic and moral changes across the nation. He's stopped and tried all he could do to rescue dozens of people. He's looked into the eyes of a man who was pleading, clenching Mike's shirt ...trapped, burning alive. The extinguishers couldn't put out what the damaged fuel pump was feeding into the fire. I know, because 5 of the kids and I were there with him in Arkansas that day. Another time was a car on fire beside a gas pump. Mike parked our car in the road, ran in his coat and tie, and helped someone push it out of the way. And just a few months ago, he witnessed a man beating a woman in downtown San Antonio. He parked his rig right there, jumped out, and proceeded to deck the guy unconscious.
I know I've forgotten and didn't mention other things here; but in our time away from each other, he thinks I forget him. This is to remind him that I know there are plenty of masculine men around but not many are among the brave, the dedicated to family so much so that he would do anything to support his wife at home with his 7 children.
Most of us aren't precisely sure what we would do if a madman stormed the room ........... but I know what Mike would do.
In the news this week is the shooting in Colorado. Several guns the medical student had, taking time to reload ...and no one rushed him. I understand it's a death wish and I definitely have to question myself on it, but I think it's safe to ascertain that one reason we cower to protect our existence is because most of us are simply unsure what will become of us in death. Meanwhile, children were being mowed down. Were there not any "men" in the room, much less civilians bearing arms?
A man's man Mike is. He began early, working outdoors on the golf course. Before that he played football and rode anything with wheels on as few wheels as humanly possible. He hung out at a body shop, went to bartending school, but was an apprentice plumber in Atlanta when I met him. I very clearly remember (down to what was on TV) the man I babysat for asking me if I really wanted to marry someone who did "laborious" work. I can't remember what I said, but I was probably thinking, "You don't know 'Mike'".
In the months leading up to our wedding, he went to truck driving school. It seemed like a great big adventure to him. His was hired to deliver furniture and I went with him anytime there was a break at GSU. For me, it was like getting paid to vacation. Best we can tell, our first daughter was conceived while we were delivering in Intercourse, Pennsylvania!
Before long, he was on to limo driving. He was of such interest to one client from South America, the president of Wells Fargo, that he took Mike in to eat with his family at a very high end restaurant in Atlanta. Ah, and I just remembered that he came to pick me up and take me out one time.
He delivered tankers full of milk for Atlanta Dairies and gas for, was it BP? He even betrayed Coke and delivered Pepsi for a while. And oh yeah, he was a painter for a while, painting jet skis for Yamaha. The guys used to come over after second shift and play cards at our house.
I'm sure he remembers the details better than I but he entered into a partnership with an old friend and began a pizza takeout. It was a good location and great food, almost too good because they had so much business that service became an issue. His friend walked away from the business at the urging of his snooty wife. Then the bottom just fell out.
Mike was on the road again but as a charter bus driver this time. His fondest memory of it is taking a group of teens to Colorado and climbing a mountain with them under a full moon and then basically sliding back down, wondering if he would survive. A close second was a church group and an older black lady who asked him some questions that began an encounter with God. At that point, after much consideration and a visit to the barracks of The 88 Mike, he enlisted in The Army, only to have a car hit him at a red light, with injuries that required knee surgery.
His quest continued with a position as dump truck driver for an explosives company. There, he and another driver decided to go into "business" together and wound up driving and dispatching 7 trucks. This time though, the bottom not only fell out but also sucked in our entire world.
Mike felt like there was nothing to do but start fresh. I, pregnant with our fourth child and first son, moved from Georgia to North Carolina with him ...funny though, we were on our way to Maine, which we'd flown to and loved. His uncle had a propane business nearby and set him up on a Hank Hill stint. At some point, he ended up being an Animal Control Agent for the county, but found himself on the road again when ends weren't meeting.
I forget the order sometimes, but he got back into trucking in the seat of a dump truck he contracted to the state for road work. He tried to expand and employ other drivers, but after several weeks of good report, his best driver "went off" and locked himself in his house. We had to take the truck and still don't know what happened.
Mike always has an ear out for something better and landed a job "piggy backing" Freightliner trucks all over the country. He got to fly back and had so many miles that he rode in first class. It didn't take him long to discover there was better money to be made, so we bought the famous "yellow truck" and began transporting by way of "lowboy", living pretty large ...until the union took over.
He tried hauling used cars and oversized flatbed loads. He finally had "enough" and enrolled in technical school, after all he knew almost everything about engines by then ...interesting that our oldest daughter went instead. Anyone who knows us well knows what happened next: the aortic bypass that sent him and the rest of us into a tailspin and rooted us here in New Hope.
Right now he has his own "authorities", completely responsible for all expenses: insurance, equipment, maintenance, repairs ...with no: paid vacation or holidays or "benefits". What he has though is our 7 year old son on a venture cross country. They started here in North Carolina, drove alongside the Columbia River to Washington State and are on their way back to the east coast, Rhode Island. They've gotten out to touch redwoods and rivers. They've watched the wildlife looking out over the hood of a truck. Each of our children has gotten to do these things.
Erratic much? You betcha. He's a layman, an entrepreneur, and even an inventor. He had a factory build a quality stainless steel telescoping handled carry-on toolbox but the materials were expensive and he just stopped pursuing it. He's a history and current events buff. On its roads for almost a quarter of a century, he's seen the economic and moral changes across the nation. He's stopped and tried all he could do to rescue dozens of people. He's looked into the eyes of a man who was pleading, clenching Mike's shirt ...trapped, burning alive. The extinguishers couldn't put out what the damaged fuel pump was feeding into the fire. I know, because 5 of the kids and I were there with him in Arkansas that day. Another time was a car on fire beside a gas pump. Mike parked our car in the road, ran in his coat and tie, and helped someone push it out of the way. And just a few months ago, he witnessed a man beating a woman in downtown San Antonio. He parked his rig right there, jumped out, and proceeded to deck the guy unconscious.
I know I've forgotten and didn't mention other things here; but in our time away from each other, he thinks I forget him. This is to remind him that I know there are plenty of masculine men around but not many are among the brave, the dedicated to family so much so that he would do anything to support his wife at home with his 7 children.
Most of us aren't precisely sure what we would do if a madman stormed the room ........... but I know what Mike would do.
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Mayo Mom
Wow, so I entered this contest that required a video audition and I know I'm living a supersize me, but good heavens, I'm big ...standing there holding a mayonnaise jar smiling like a possum (I did win an award for the possum smile in 6th grade ;)
The interesting thing is that before I left, I thought I look pretty decent. I'll repeat myself from this morning's Facebook post, I'm way bigger than I feel. But the camera don't lie, well maybe a little, but 10 pounds ain't the problem here.
My arms are huge, runs in the family. Honestly it does. Good thing I started using Michael's weights after we cleaned the garage and could get to them! I've told myself and I know it's true for others, if we attack the problem areas, we automatically feel better. So, I guess my aching muscles fooled me into thinking a T-shirt looked okay!
Another thing I do is revel over that 5 or 10 pounds I've shed, get a few compliments, and fall right back into my old groove. It never takes me long to feel sluggish and unattractive/unavailable to my husband again. When I get back on track; the metabolism I find, the energy I find, the sweat I put out are all affirmations that I don't need much food at all.
The food I need is the same food in smaller portion. I already eat whole foods. From the garden, I have ample access to vegetables, so I need to ramp them up and lower the carbs and, yes, even the good ones.
My life is just too good to let self consciousness be a part of new memories. The kids are growing too quickly to not run and play with them. Vacation is too seldom to hide behind a towel at the beach. Mike is too good to me now to not lay my body back at the altar of marriage.
My Facebook profile picture is the year before Mike and I married. My arms draped across his shoulders look so natural, so do his hands around my waist, making it look so small. Since then I've had a few reasons to neglect them, but anytime I put my interests and pleasures above those of my husband's, I'm cheating on him ...yeah, with food.
Striking that pose in the mirror giving my best 2 dimensional angle just doesn't cut it anymore. Life is 3D. Scales don't lie. Excuses don't matter because we gotta face 'em. Time is what you make it, so make the time. I know all this because I have plenty of experience getting back into shape ...yes, 7 babies, 3 with excessive weight gain.
In the audition, my hair looked ...what's the word? ...anyway, not good! I told our girls I had to make my hair bigger because fat people's heads look small, but I guess it fell with the humidity, lights, and prespiration. I know people think I should cut it but my inner voice tells me my body should match my hair, not my hair match my body. There's a girly girl screaming for me to stop crushing her with all the weight!
In a couple a minutes, I'm headed to the basement to that bench and bar. I have to clear my mind because it tells this body what to do and right now it's looking at a whole lot of housework, but "looking" like a housewife really sucks. So, I'll get to those tasks a little later and I'll cook a meal we all love a little after that ..."little" is the key word here. A little here, a little there and I've got a little me, the original sized, instead of supersized :)
The interesting thing is that before I left, I thought I look pretty decent. I'll repeat myself from this morning's Facebook post, I'm way bigger than I feel. But the camera don't lie, well maybe a little, but 10 pounds ain't the problem here.
My arms are huge, runs in the family. Honestly it does. Good thing I started using Michael's weights after we cleaned the garage and could get to them! I've told myself and I know it's true for others, if we attack the problem areas, we automatically feel better. So, I guess my aching muscles fooled me into thinking a T-shirt looked okay!
Another thing I do is revel over that 5 or 10 pounds I've shed, get a few compliments, and fall right back into my old groove. It never takes me long to feel sluggish and unattractive/unavailable to my husband again. When I get back on track; the metabolism I find, the energy I find, the sweat I put out are all affirmations that I don't need much food at all.
The food I need is the same food in smaller portion. I already eat whole foods. From the garden, I have ample access to vegetables, so I need to ramp them up and lower the carbs and, yes, even the good ones.
My life is just too good to let self consciousness be a part of new memories. The kids are growing too quickly to not run and play with them. Vacation is too seldom to hide behind a towel at the beach. Mike is too good to me now to not lay my body back at the altar of marriage.
My Facebook profile picture is the year before Mike and I married. My arms draped across his shoulders look so natural, so do his hands around my waist, making it look so small. Since then I've had a few reasons to neglect them, but anytime I put my interests and pleasures above those of my husband's, I'm cheating on him ...yeah, with food.
Striking that pose in the mirror giving my best 2 dimensional angle just doesn't cut it anymore. Life is 3D. Scales don't lie. Excuses don't matter because we gotta face 'em. Time is what you make it, so make the time. I know all this because I have plenty of experience getting back into shape ...yes, 7 babies, 3 with excessive weight gain.
In the audition, my hair looked ...what's the word? ...anyway, not good! I told our girls I had to make my hair bigger because fat people's heads look small, but I guess it fell with the humidity, lights, and prespiration. I know people think I should cut it but my inner voice tells me my body should match my hair, not my hair match my body. There's a girly girl screaming for me to stop crushing her with all the weight!
In a couple a minutes, I'm headed to the basement to that bench and bar. I have to clear my mind because it tells this body what to do and right now it's looking at a whole lot of housework, but "looking" like a housewife really sucks. So, I'll get to those tasks a little later and I'll cook a meal we all love a little after that ..."little" is the key word here. A little here, a little there and I've got a little me, the original sized, instead of supersized :)
Saturday, July 14, 2012
Hungry
This is the final day of our seven year old's, Macklynn's, day camp, not just any camp: Uplands Reach Conference Center, making "world changers" through Christ. There is a back story beginning with our 21 year old's, Megan's, first meeting with them, I guess 9 years ago.
McKala (15) is their youngest ever summer intern. Michael (14) was a "teen camper" and returns as a "captain" for younger camper programs. Melody (11) requested to volunteer for the second day this week and that's big because Melody is rather aloof and doesn't get enthusiastic about much of anything. So, today they have 4 of our kids and I couldn't be more glad about it as I left the building, head down, getting misty, and thanking God audibly.
When Macklynn, Madalynn, and I have gotten there at 8ish late every morning this week, McKala and Michael have already been up cleaning and preparing for 4 hours, which is also about how much sleep they get after the activity dies down at night. As I hugged McKala Monday morning, another girl, who along with others from as far away as Texas don't get to see their parents until August, asked for one. I brought a half gallon jar of Claussen-like pickles we made in June and came to be renowned in the next 2 days for hugs and pickles, which is the minimal amount I can do for what the camp is instilling in our children, even if I had to drive 720 miles this week to ensure it.
I had planned to stay and take pictures today, but yesterday turned out to be the last day this week that McKala would be working with the horses. I didn't have the camera because I intended to buy batteries on Monday, but I stayed anyway and for the first time got to see how they start a day of camp. In the gym, loud music was resonating as the 5 through 9 year olds moved to the dances they'd learned ...in selfconcious abandonment worshipping God with their voices and bodies and smiles. It was beautiful to watch 80 or so children being led by the the teens in sheer joy, no stifled or boring Christianity there ...nor showy, obnoxious people "falling out" in spiritual fits, thank goodness. They are a super clean, shipshape, upstanding, noble behaviour demanding outfit run by a dynamic evangelist and his outstanding wife. Their 3 adult children are the fruitful evidence of sound teaching and cheerful upbringing.
The groups split off and we followed outside to watch McKala teach about horse tack, but first got to see the foam waterball war they had. There was a boy on the sidelines who got to spray the hose because he's in a wheelchair. I asked McKala about him and she said the only voluntary movement he has left is in his fingers and that his MS is progressing so quickly that it's questionable if he'll make it through Christmas. Then, while a truck was dumping gravel into the drive, I was blocked from leaving and had a conversation with a mother who miscarried 4 of her 7 children. One was all the way to 34 weeks. Personal stories like these show that if those people are still professing faith, that we don't have any reasons not to stay hungry. I know the Bible speaks of peace, contentment, fed by the fullness of Christ. That's not what I'm talking about ..."hungry", as in an insatiable desire for the will of and perfection through Christ ..."hungry" enough to devour His Word ..."hungry" enough to step out of our own darkness into the darkness of another life to feed it what all the "fullness" in the world can't provide.
So many young people are indeed full: pockets lined, bills covered, every comfort - parents just trying to get their kids' school complete so they'll be "successful". Meanwhile, their liberal education and culture, despite "the church" and sadly inside "the church", are leading them down the same apathetic, lazy, entitlement oriented path as non-believers.
Something God has laid on me like a brick lately is that He does not want to hear another plan or timetable I have in mind. He wants my reliance for every thought, every action, every bite of food, every word, every penny, every minute. For me to commit to Him what is already His is absurd. All I need to do is acknowledge Him, thank Him, and quit trying to make things right for Him instead of through Him. Satan is never more clever than in mind games. And when we're distracted is when he wins.
I introduced myself this week at camp to the father of a girl friend of Michael. He joked but, in no uncertain terms, made it clear that no one, I mean no one, will get to his daughter except through him. He is not distracted. I don't know 'his' personal life but I know 'mine' and that when I don't see past my circumstances, I get distracted and lost from the most pressing honor I've been given: to have the conversations that see our children into mature, "God fearing", responsible, independent adulthood ...to be "just" friends until they can find the person who will be their forever "best" friend, the person for whom they don't have to be the moral compass, the person who doesn't confuse loyalty with codependency. Thank God for Daddys who watch after their daughters.
As Mike and I were picking Macklynn up on Thursday, he was able to inquire about the camp's upcoming sale, intentions, purposes, and destination. He was told that the present site, 100 acres, would become a place for men to come and get their lives in order. Mike told me on the way home that he wants to give his testimony to those men. Man, I can't even type that without getting teary eyed.
Right now, Mike has Macklynn and is on the way back to Washington. Madalynn is singing and riding in rain on her bicycle. Miranda and I are about to go have some time together at her Daddy's request. I'll leave you with a couple of things I saw on my ventures back home this week: an old man sitting by his house using his cane to play with his dog and a heavy set woman walking for exercise with her earbuds in, singing like no one was looking. These too made my heart smile. Find the good around you, and you'll always be "hungry" because you won't be "full" of yourself.
McKala (15) is their youngest ever summer intern. Michael (14) was a "teen camper" and returns as a "captain" for younger camper programs. Melody (11) requested to volunteer for the second day this week and that's big because Melody is rather aloof and doesn't get enthusiastic about much of anything. So, today they have 4 of our kids and I couldn't be more glad about it as I left the building, head down, getting misty, and thanking God audibly.
When Macklynn, Madalynn, and I have gotten there at 8ish late every morning this week, McKala and Michael have already been up cleaning and preparing for 4 hours, which is also about how much sleep they get after the activity dies down at night. As I hugged McKala Monday morning, another girl, who along with others from as far away as Texas don't get to see their parents until August, asked for one. I brought a half gallon jar of Claussen-like pickles we made in June and came to be renowned in the next 2 days for hugs and pickles, which is the minimal amount I can do for what the camp is instilling in our children, even if I had to drive 720 miles this week to ensure it.
I had planned to stay and take pictures today, but yesterday turned out to be the last day this week that McKala would be working with the horses. I didn't have the camera because I intended to buy batteries on Monday, but I stayed anyway and for the first time got to see how they start a day of camp. In the gym, loud music was resonating as the 5 through 9 year olds moved to the dances they'd learned ...in selfconcious abandonment worshipping God with their voices and bodies and smiles. It was beautiful to watch 80 or so children being led by the the teens in sheer joy, no stifled or boring Christianity there ...nor showy, obnoxious people "falling out" in spiritual fits, thank goodness. They are a super clean, shipshape, upstanding, noble behaviour demanding outfit run by a dynamic evangelist and his outstanding wife. Their 3 adult children are the fruitful evidence of sound teaching and cheerful upbringing.
The groups split off and we followed outside to watch McKala teach about horse tack, but first got to see the foam waterball war they had. There was a boy on the sidelines who got to spray the hose because he's in a wheelchair. I asked McKala about him and she said the only voluntary movement he has left is in his fingers and that his MS is progressing so quickly that it's questionable if he'll make it through Christmas. Then, while a truck was dumping gravel into the drive, I was blocked from leaving and had a conversation with a mother who miscarried 4 of her 7 children. One was all the way to 34 weeks. Personal stories like these show that if those people are still professing faith, that we don't have any reasons not to stay hungry. I know the Bible speaks of peace, contentment, fed by the fullness of Christ. That's not what I'm talking about ..."hungry", as in an insatiable desire for the will of and perfection through Christ ..."hungry" enough to devour His Word ..."hungry" enough to step out of our own darkness into the darkness of another life to feed it what all the "fullness" in the world can't provide.
So many young people are indeed full: pockets lined, bills covered, every comfort - parents just trying to get their kids' school complete so they'll be "successful". Meanwhile, their liberal education and culture, despite "the church" and sadly inside "the church", are leading them down the same apathetic, lazy, entitlement oriented path as non-believers.
Something God has laid on me like a brick lately is that He does not want to hear another plan or timetable I have in mind. He wants my reliance for every thought, every action, every bite of food, every word, every penny, every minute. For me to commit to Him what is already His is absurd. All I need to do is acknowledge Him, thank Him, and quit trying to make things right for Him instead of through Him. Satan is never more clever than in mind games. And when we're distracted is when he wins.
I introduced myself this week at camp to the father of a girl friend of Michael. He joked but, in no uncertain terms, made it clear that no one, I mean no one, will get to his daughter except through him. He is not distracted. I don't know 'his' personal life but I know 'mine' and that when I don't see past my circumstances, I get distracted and lost from the most pressing honor I've been given: to have the conversations that see our children into mature, "God fearing", responsible, independent adulthood ...to be "just" friends until they can find the person who will be their forever "best" friend, the person for whom they don't have to be the moral compass, the person who doesn't confuse loyalty with codependency. Thank God for Daddys who watch after their daughters.
As Mike and I were picking Macklynn up on Thursday, he was able to inquire about the camp's upcoming sale, intentions, purposes, and destination. He was told that the present site, 100 acres, would become a place for men to come and get their lives in order. Mike told me on the way home that he wants to give his testimony to those men. Man, I can't even type that without getting teary eyed.
Right now, Mike has Macklynn and is on the way back to Washington. Madalynn is singing and riding in rain on her bicycle. Miranda and I are about to go have some time together at her Daddy's request. I'll leave you with a couple of things I saw on my ventures back home this week: an old man sitting by his house using his cane to play with his dog and a heavy set woman walking for exercise with her earbuds in, singing like no one was looking. These too made my heart smile. Find the good around you, and you'll always be "hungry" because you won't be "full" of yourself.
Monday, July 9, 2012
Unload
Excuse me for the next minutes as I put it just like I see it. This morning I heard a commentator on the radio say about a girl who was "caught" in a picture, that since everything in our society is automated, surveillanced, and uploaded, that the only hope we have is that there will be no more use for the word "slut" because it won't matter anymore. Even her male counterpart said, "You don't believe that."
After we left Macklynn at camp with Michael and McKala, I took Madalynn and Melody to the park. At 10 am, there was only 1 other family there. I involuntarily thought that most kids are either in daycare for the summer or in Grandma's air conditioned place in front of the TV. I recently let the TV be turned off. Don't get me wrong; I know there is good to be had from TV. But with our switchup in schedules, it got too easy to have it on. I've lately been wondering too if air conditioning is almost as big a cuplrit, just keeping us so idle. Oh, speaking of "idols", there is just no way of getting around that the TV is the center of almost every room. What does that look like to you?
With Melody in between us, the other mom, Linda, and I sat on the bench getting some shade as her 3 boys and Madalynn ran up and down and all around. I found out even she didn't "want" to be at home. She's been out of work for a year, plus her husband doesn't lift a finger to help her with the boys. I told her I'd been home for 19 years and tried to find an "in" to give her Biblical support, but all I really left her with was my name.
To be honest, I was just glad she wasn't texting or reading "mommy porn". She was very interested in her boys and said she didn't mind spanking them in public if need be. I wish I had the guts to tell her that if she commited to being home, the natural response for her husband would be to "man up". Not knowing her any better, I hated to give that advice so I wrote down her name on my list to ensure I don't forget her.
As we were leaving, cars starting pulling in for the pool. I try not to "judge"; I "observed" the groups of kids. Again, I involuntarily thought, "They're raising themselves." They have better relationships with their friends than their families. Mom and Dad just don't make fun so friends "want" to come over. That's why things like our 4th party are extremely important to me. Why run the kids off when they can have fun nearby and with accountability? I'm not sure that what I heard on "Christian" radio on the way home was much more reassuring. The host said she and her daughter had a "whip cream" battle (fun in and of itself) as a vacation "activity". Activity? It's bad enough that we have boxed up, premade food; we're doing it with our kids. Good grief, live a little.
All this said, are we really that different from Sodom and Gomorrah? Wake up before you drift into neverland and have no part in the joy of the afterlife with the angels "over one sinner that repenteth" ...because if 'we' don't know where we're going in life, why would "the lost" want to go with us?
I'm gonna say it straight up. If your life isn't illuminating Christ, if a room doesn't shine when you walk in, then inspect whether you have even met the One you call Redeemer ...or whether you're hiding sin in thought or action and don't want to be exposed as a hypocrite. I should know. The adversary has come at me from every direction and for years found ways to keep me down, wondering, quiet ...so I wouldn't say the things I'm saying today. Game over.
After we left Macklynn at camp with Michael and McKala, I took Madalynn and Melody to the park. At 10 am, there was only 1 other family there. I involuntarily thought that most kids are either in daycare for the summer or in Grandma's air conditioned place in front of the TV. I recently let the TV be turned off. Don't get me wrong; I know there is good to be had from TV. But with our switchup in schedules, it got too easy to have it on. I've lately been wondering too if air conditioning is almost as big a cuplrit, just keeping us so idle. Oh, speaking of "idols", there is just no way of getting around that the TV is the center of almost every room. What does that look like to you?
With Melody in between us, the other mom, Linda, and I sat on the bench getting some shade as her 3 boys and Madalynn ran up and down and all around. I found out even she didn't "want" to be at home. She's been out of work for a year, plus her husband doesn't lift a finger to help her with the boys. I told her I'd been home for 19 years and tried to find an "in" to give her Biblical support, but all I really left her with was my name.
To be honest, I was just glad she wasn't texting or reading "mommy porn". She was very interested in her boys and said she didn't mind spanking them in public if need be. I wish I had the guts to tell her that if she commited to being home, the natural response for her husband would be to "man up". Not knowing her any better, I hated to give that advice so I wrote down her name on my list to ensure I don't forget her.
As we were leaving, cars starting pulling in for the pool. I try not to "judge"; I "observed" the groups of kids. Again, I involuntarily thought, "They're raising themselves." They have better relationships with their friends than their families. Mom and Dad just don't make fun so friends "want" to come over. That's why things like our 4th party are extremely important to me. Why run the kids off when they can have fun nearby and with accountability? I'm not sure that what I heard on "Christian" radio on the way home was much more reassuring. The host said she and her daughter had a "whip cream" battle (fun in and of itself) as a vacation "activity". Activity? It's bad enough that we have boxed up, premade food; we're doing it with our kids. Good grief, live a little.
All this said, are we really that different from Sodom and Gomorrah? Wake up before you drift into neverland and have no part in the joy of the afterlife with the angels "over one sinner that repenteth" ...because if 'we' don't know where we're going in life, why would "the lost" want to go with us?
I'm gonna say it straight up. If your life isn't illuminating Christ, if a room doesn't shine when you walk in, then inspect whether you have even met the One you call Redeemer ...or whether you're hiding sin in thought or action and don't want to be exposed as a hypocrite. I should know. The adversary has come at me from every direction and for years found ways to keep me down, wondering, quiet ...so I wouldn't say the things I'm saying today. Game over.
Saturday, July 7, 2012
We Digress
I came upon this quote as I was preparing for our 4th of July gathering: "Nothing is a greater stranger to my breast, or a sin that my soul more abhors, than that black and detestable one, ingratitude." ~ George Washington, 1754. I have to check myself often for this disease as I find myself in an outburst from time to time. This morning as I sat outside with my Bible that sadly hasn't been opened for 2 weeks, a hummingbird whizzed by to investigate the first blossoms of the large Mimosa tree beside the porch. I'm so distractible that instead of reading, I pondered the beauty of it all and began to pray outloud toward the sky.
I hate to ask for more than we have but I enlisted God to give Mike a vision to get him through the days that run together as he zigzags the country. I asked that Megan's headaches subside especially since she works in 100 degree heat. Miranda, McKala, and Michael all have health issues or injuries we're watching. Melody, Macklynn, and Madalynn have new levels of discipline, work, and challenge. Not everyone has as many children but I still can't imagine that anyone would deny their children anything less than every fiber of good will and intent, but they do.
Unfortunately another quote of Washington's, "Labour to keep alive in your breast that little spark of celestial fire called conscience," is numbed in our society by busyness, dissatisfaction, medication, blame, and self preoccupation. I've heard, "I'm a good person," more than I care to. They may not know it but they're agnostic, believing God has left us here with freewill and little more. I'm sorry to say that a lady I talked with this week has felt this way since she was abused as a child. She believes the only thing that set her free was her ...free will. She inferred that God didn't hear her pleas for rescue. I replied that 'people' didn't hear her, those that should be close enough to a child to see her distress. They were too busy. We Christians are so caught up in the latest and greatest or getting by and complaining about it, that we aren't making any real investment for eternity.
I have a proposal. Instead of questioning God on violence and perversion, why don't we question ourselves about the opportunities we've had to lead by example or bless the people on the fringe. Would they have become so dark and unreachable? So as I read a verse I'd seen in a new friend's writing, I found, "Be not deceived: evil communications corrupt good manners. Awake to righteousness, and sin not; for some have not the knowledge of God: I speak this to your shame." 1 Cor 15: 33-34.
We have so much crap in our lives, literally, every new decoration, new outfit, new toy, new technology that we keep China in business and manage to become useless all in one. We can't keep what we have clean because we have too much of it, so we just give up and become what we thought we'd never accept. We can't feed the children in Africa because we're paying for our weight loss programs. Besides, who can we trust to get it there? Have we set limits to where we'll go ourselves? And is it because we're in debt for things that limit us? When is the last time God was our insurance agent? Is any of it really ours anyway?
We're keeping up with the Jones's or just keeping up with the bills and leave no time for a seed we could plant daily. What seeds do we have to plant when our own lives are spoiling? A question was posed to me 3 years ago, "Why don't you ever mention your husband in your conversation?" I'm posing that question now to wives. Why don't you mention him? Is everything really "okay" or are you living in no man's land, the place no one wants be ...getting by, cohabitating, being civil? Is your fear of being alone really worth losing your passion or has it been long dead? Or do you reserve your thoughts for another man?
When is the last time we thought of the attraction of our homes, of the fun and magnetism they should have? When is the last time we were giddy that our husbands were about to walk through the door from a long day's work? Really, you worked hard too? It doesn't work like that. Home really has to be a man's refuge and if we ladies don't gear toward that, then ...well, we see where it lands us, no man's land, a place no man wants to be. Please, don't think I'm lending men a break. My own husband will tell you that he was never content no matter my effort. The man he is now proves that it mattered all the while.
What's happened to Jesus anyway? Madalynn and Macklynn came in from carport in deliberation 2 weeks ago. Madalynn (4) said that he was killed and Macklynn (7) said that he killed himself. Hmmm, all right, yeeaah, "Jesus let himself be killed on the cross but He was the essence of goodness, which can never die. Evil thought it'd won but the only way it ever wins is when, yes, our free will lets it." How do we let something so pure and simple slip through our hands? If we don't own it already, why don't we take it? Believe me; the only thing you'll lose is the you you're tired of contending with. She won't leave you readily but she will leave and with her nasty ingratitude. The quickness of her exit relies on how quickly you accept that His grace is sufficient in every circumstance, under every stress, and in every relationship.
A suffering world is waiting for her to leave, so how about now?
I hate to ask for more than we have but I enlisted God to give Mike a vision to get him through the days that run together as he zigzags the country. I asked that Megan's headaches subside especially since she works in 100 degree heat. Miranda, McKala, and Michael all have health issues or injuries we're watching. Melody, Macklynn, and Madalynn have new levels of discipline, work, and challenge. Not everyone has as many children but I still can't imagine that anyone would deny their children anything less than every fiber of good will and intent, but they do.
Unfortunately another quote of Washington's, "Labour to keep alive in your breast that little spark of celestial fire called conscience," is numbed in our society by busyness, dissatisfaction, medication, blame, and self preoccupation. I've heard, "I'm a good person," more than I care to. They may not know it but they're agnostic, believing God has left us here with freewill and little more. I'm sorry to say that a lady I talked with this week has felt this way since she was abused as a child. She believes the only thing that set her free was her ...free will. She inferred that God didn't hear her pleas for rescue. I replied that 'people' didn't hear her, those that should be close enough to a child to see her distress. They were too busy. We Christians are so caught up in the latest and greatest or getting by and complaining about it, that we aren't making any real investment for eternity.
I have a proposal. Instead of questioning God on violence and perversion, why don't we question ourselves about the opportunities we've had to lead by example or bless the people on the fringe. Would they have become so dark and unreachable? So as I read a verse I'd seen in a new friend's writing, I found, "Be not deceived: evil communications corrupt good manners. Awake to righteousness, and sin not; for some have not the knowledge of God: I speak this to your shame." 1 Cor 15: 33-34.
We have so much crap in our lives, literally, every new decoration, new outfit, new toy, new technology that we keep China in business and manage to become useless all in one. We can't keep what we have clean because we have too much of it, so we just give up and become what we thought we'd never accept. We can't feed the children in Africa because we're paying for our weight loss programs. Besides, who can we trust to get it there? Have we set limits to where we'll go ourselves? And is it because we're in debt for things that limit us? When is the last time God was our insurance agent? Is any of it really ours anyway?
We're keeping up with the Jones's or just keeping up with the bills and leave no time for a seed we could plant daily. What seeds do we have to plant when our own lives are spoiling? A question was posed to me 3 years ago, "Why don't you ever mention your husband in your conversation?" I'm posing that question now to wives. Why don't you mention him? Is everything really "okay" or are you living in no man's land, the place no one wants be ...getting by, cohabitating, being civil? Is your fear of being alone really worth losing your passion or has it been long dead? Or do you reserve your thoughts for another man?
When is the last time we thought of the attraction of our homes, of the fun and magnetism they should have? When is the last time we were giddy that our husbands were about to walk through the door from a long day's work? Really, you worked hard too? It doesn't work like that. Home really has to be a man's refuge and if we ladies don't gear toward that, then ...well, we see where it lands us, no man's land, a place no man wants to be. Please, don't think I'm lending men a break. My own husband will tell you that he was never content no matter my effort. The man he is now proves that it mattered all the while.
What's happened to Jesus anyway? Madalynn and Macklynn came in from carport in deliberation 2 weeks ago. Madalynn (4) said that he was killed and Macklynn (7) said that he killed himself. Hmmm, all right, yeeaah, "Jesus let himself be killed on the cross but He was the essence of goodness, which can never die. Evil thought it'd won but the only way it ever wins is when, yes, our free will lets it." How do we let something so pure and simple slip through our hands? If we don't own it already, why don't we take it? Believe me; the only thing you'll lose is the you you're tired of contending with. She won't leave you readily but she will leave and with her nasty ingratitude. The quickness of her exit relies on how quickly you accept that His grace is sufficient in every circumstance, under every stress, and in every relationship.
A suffering world is waiting for her to leave, so how about now?
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