simple faith

2009-10-20T13:22:00.001-05:00

Life Team Question

What can you do or have you done to help with this phrase "Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil"?

God works in mysterious ways.

simple faith

2009-10-13T08:19:00.000-05:00

Life Team Question

Was there a time when you felt like you did not "follow Christ" or do what Jesus would have done? Will there be a time this week?

Mercy!

simple faith

2009-10-06T09:38:00.000-05:00

Life Team Question

When do you feel, or have felt, God's closeness?

Wow.

simple faith

2009-09-29T14:20:00.001-05:00

A Disciple

Funny how I am all good and well with the word disciple until I have to apply it to my own life. Suddenly I begin thinking things like, "Weren't almost all of those guys tragically killed somehow?"! Me - a disciple? Are you sure?

Oh, I know. We are all called to be one. None of us is given the job of just sitting quietly on the sidelines.

Once while studying Holy Week, one of my beloved teachers posed the question, "Which crowd would you be in? The one who praised him on Sunday during the palm procession or the one who cried for his crucifixion later in the week?" It took me a while to come to an answer, but I finally said, "Neither. I want to be one of the disciples."

And so I find myself stumbling through life. Sometimes hearing some really great teaching and totally missing the point. Sometimes being the one who argues with a brother about who Jesus loves the most. Sometimes being the one who loses my cool and lops off some poor guy's ear. Sometimes being the one who loses sight of the plan. Sometimes being the one who says, "Hey, I wasn't with him - you have me mistaken for someone else!"

And then sometimes, just on occasion, I have those "ah ha" moments that must make the Father and Son shake theirs heads and smile to each other saying, "You know, that one is not always the brightest, but we sure do love it when she gets it!"

Loved whether I always get it or not.

simple faith

2009-09-28T10:04:00.001-05:00

Life Team Question

Share an experience of an opportunity to respond to Christ's call to be his disciple.

Pondering.

simple faith

2009-09-25T10:01:00.000-05:00

Elohim

Several years ago I did a Kay Arthur Bible study on the book "LORD, I Want to Know You." It was one of those things that over the years I continue to return to - actually to seek and run to - during trying times.

The study takes you through the Hebrew names for God. Elohim is the name for God as Creator.

Parenting seems to bring with it trying times - the positive spin on that would say "opportunities for growth" the negative spin would say "no one escapes this with their sanity." Often these "opportunities for growth" have driven me to my knees and searching for something to bring direction and solace. And often I find myself recognizing God as Elohim - my child's Creator.

Reading Psalm 139:13-18 and putting my child's name in the verses reminds me that God truly created this child to be exactly as he fashioned him. Whatever trial that day has brought, it was no surprise to God.

Elohim - The Creator - my Creator - my children's Creator.

Choosing to worship, not wallow.

simple faith

2009-09-23T08:35:00.000-05:00

Quiet

It was my first real ski trip. I was in my mid-twenties and a new mom, so the idea of a few days away was much welcomed. We journeyed with several friends to Colorado to ski at Monarch.

It was probably the second day of our outing. We woke up to cloudy weather, but nothing too concerning. As we made our way up to the ski area it seemed as if the entire mountain had been swallowed by a cloud. At some point during the day it began to snow - those big, fat, fluffy snow flakes. I was loving it! A great base was already in place and fresh snow just meant more cushion for my frequent falls.

On the lift I was thinking how much I loved the snow, even though it was incredibly cold that day. I began to notice something I had not really experienced before - complete quiet. The clouds and snow had created this incredible sound barrier around me. It was almost as if God had wrapped my world with a prescence of His stillness and quiet. It was one of those times you realize just how amazing He truly is.

I am one of those people who seeks quiet. And although I find it in different ways in my current busy life, nothing has ever compared to that day when God revealed himself to me on the mountain.

Amazed by Him.

simple faith

2009-09-21T15:47:00.008-05:00

Life Teams

So, our church has a cool new program going titled "Life Teams." I think it was began as a way to encourage us to purposefully explore what is going on in our lives and the lives of others spiritually. Basically you become part of a life team and somehow during the week your team discusses the question of the week. My life team is a texting group.

Last week was our launch. Honestly I was not sure what type of a spiritual experience texting would be - no face to face contact, short messages - you know. . .how Godly does that sound?

Wow! Was I completely blown away. The whole week was full of messages and realizations that really "stoked my spiritual fire." And this week is off to an incredible start also.

But here is my problem - I have so much flying around in my head that I cannot possibly put it in a text and I am pretty sure all my facebook friends are not interested in long, rambling things either. Where to put my thoughts that others could also put theirs - my long unused blog!!!

That would be where you now find me. Trying to set up something to share my thoughts on the question for the week and hoping like crazy that others will respond - because that is where God really starts revealing himself in new ways. If you want to play - awesome! If not, I'm good with that too.

I will post the question on Sunday or Monday and probably ramble throughout the week. The only kicker may be that I think you will have to create an account to reply. But, hey, I could be wrong about that.

Please also be aware that I may post random stories that have nothing to do with the life team thing. I will label all life team posts as such, that should help you find them.

Life team question of the week:
When do you experience, or have experienced, God's presence in creation?

Because life is good.

simple faith

2009-03-12T08:59:00.003-05:00

A New Person in My Life

I have a new person in my life. Well, actually she has been around since mid-October. She is with me whenever I am out and about on errands or traveling. Most times we are not engaged with each other, but on occasion she is nice to have around.

Unfortunately she is sometimes a bit slow. On a trip to the T-town area last month my husband and I found ourselves a bit exasperated with her for her lack of ability to think on her feet quickly.

And sometimes she is just plain confused and repeats the same phrase over and over. We had a verbal confrontation recently as she was helping me with a Mobile Meals route. Luckily she and I were the only two in the vehicle - otherwise people might begin to wonder about my sanity.

My husband and I have tried to come up with an appropriate name for her. (Notice I said appropriate. . .she had been called several things!) I suggested Miss Moneypenney recently. He insisted she would have to call him James. I don't really think that will work. The conversation went downhill from there as he suggested several other Bond names. Somehow I can't see myself addressing her as any of them, especially with teenage boys in the vehicle.

So for now she is My Girl - just a voice amongst My People.

simple faith

2009-01-08T08:40:00.003-06:00

Just a Question

I hit the "reply" button but thought to myself, "I don't have time for this." Cancel - and then off to the next thing on my list. But while the morning continues I realize that did not reply because of a lack of time. No, I did not reply because I honestly did not have an answer.

The question: when do they grow out of this stage?

The discussion is based on my theory that teenage boy brains do not work properly. It is with a friend whose male child has made what seems to be an insane series of choices in the adult mind. But trust me, in his teenage boy brain it all made perfect sense.

The situation was very "no harm, no foul" in the end. But one that leaves parents shaking their heads and thinking to themselves "What was he thinking?"

So back to the question. When do they grow out of this stage?

I wish I could say at 18 or at 20 or at any given age. But reality is that there is no magic number. Each child is born completely unique having their own strenths and weaknesses and their own journey to maturity.

Some days I experience the joy of seeing my boys do things that impress and encourage me about their journey to maturity. And other days my husband and I just look at each other with complete dismay. And, as with most things, we try to find the humor in the situation. . .sometimes that takes some time and some work!

Just choosing to recognize that they truly are fearfully and wonderfully made.

simple faith

2009-01-03T17:47:00.002-06:00

Continuing the Journey

A new year - the same journey.

Much discussion goes around this time of year in regard to "New Year's Resolutions." I pretty much have stopped making them. Oh, not that I am not pursuing new goals and have several thoughts on improving my journey. No, I just have come to a place where I see each day as a new beginning and a chance to start something new - why wait until just once a year?

I am sure it is obvious that writing more consistently in my blog should be one of those goals - and it is as long as it continues to be an outlet and not a "must do." And there is my interest in Jane Austen lately that makes me think I should at least attempt to read one of her novels. And after watching "Miss Potter" today I am thinking perhaps I should renew my relationship with Peter Rabbit.

Of course there is the always present list of house and outdoor projects to be done. And new things to learn to bake and recipes to try and places to see and things to do. Pictures on my camera that seriously need to be downloaded. All this does not even tap the physical and spiritual part of my journey!

And so there you go. No real resolutions - just a daily choice to continue in a postive direction on my journey.

Go forth and conquer!

simple faith

2008-09-10T08:30:00.003-05:00

Just an Everyday Conversation

Cell Phone Boy and Red arrive at my house after school Monday. Immediately upon entering the house Cell Phone Boy says, "Guess what, Miss Faith?"

"What?"

"I can tie the cherry stem in a knot with my mouth!"

"Wow!" (what else could I possibly say?)

A short while later they are all in the kitchen looking for a snack. I inquire about which class they were in when the fire alarm went off at the high school that day. Actually it went off twice, so they were trying to tell me which class which time when. . .

"Cell Phone Boy's class set it off," declares Red.

"Really?"

It seems that a science experiment in Biology - yes, I said Biology- flamed and immediately following this incident the alarms began going off.

I pursue the conversation: "Who is your teacher?"

The response is my younger son's wrestling coach from last winter. Now I am really laughing.

"What did he do?"

"He was just smiling," responds Cell Phone Boy.

"His 'I am smiling so I don't kill you' smile or his laughing smile - because you know he has two smiles," I ask.

Cell Phone Boy gives me a knowing look and says, "Oh yeah, I know. I think he thought it was funny."

Just choosing to find the humor in every day. . .

simple faith

2008-09-05T08:41:00.004-05:00

Boys Will Be Boys

"That's the Red Beast," claims my younger son as we pass a friend's house in the 'hood. He is referring to the red SUV the boy drives.

I don't recall responding, but Game Boy who is with us picks up the conversation. They begin discussing how my older son's vehicle is called the Blue Power Ranger. My younger son has to explain to Game Boy that this is because his truck model is actually a Ford Ranger - get it? (I thought they called it the Lone Ranger. Shows what I know. . .)

The conversation continues with them discussing what they would call other vehicles if they or their friends owned them.

If they had a yellow vehicle you could call them "Bumblebee" - I think that is a Transformer.

If my youngest son had a Chrysler 300 he would call it "Sparta" - the movie 300 is one of his favorites. You may want to note that his chances of having one of these vehicles as his first car is slim to none. But he does have good taste!

If Game Boy gets his mom's gold car he will be Gold Dust. But if he gets his dad's white Jaguar - well he will rule the world of cool. They couldn't even come up with something to call that. . .and chances are they won't need to do so.

Eventually they make it back to the Power Ranger thing. The possibility of several colored Rangers is discussed. Game Boy declares the Green Ranger was the coolest. My son scoffs at the idea and declares the White Ranger the ultimate. And, he notes, it was the Green Ranger who turned into the White Ranger - ha!

And I am just driving along pondering how odd this conversation is on sooo many levels.

The next morning on the way to church we pass a white Ford Ranger on a car lot. I point it out to the boys and suddenly yesterday's conversation is again a topic.

My younger son shares Game Boy's view of the Power Rangers. My older son scoffs at the idea and declares that it was the Green Ranger who turned into the White Ranger - ha! And then they actually begin discussing different episodes of Power Rangers.

And I am just riding along pondering how odd this conversation is on sooo many levels.

You know, I still hear males my age asking each other, "Ginger or Mary Ann?" Do you think males my son's ages will one day ask each other, "Yellow Ranger or Pink Ranger?"

It could happen. . .

simple faith

2008-08-27T14:11:00.003-05:00

I Really Am Trying Hard

I believe that two necessary components to any successful relationship are communication and respect. Being the parent of two teenage boys often forces me to rethink how I live out these principals. Maintaining communication with them is more often than not difficult.

This week my husband and I have discussed on a few occasions amongst ourselves how often what we say, how we say it, and our actions affect the relationships we have. A lot of time we don't even realize this - not being able to see the trees for the forest type thing.

So, having laid that background, let me tell you how communication is going in our house this week. . .

I actually had what I would consider a very good conversation with my younger son one night. Just he and I at the dinner table. Questions were asked and answered candidly. Information from him was volunteered about other subjects. You know - an honest to goodness conversation that ends when everyone involved senses the goodness has come to an appropriate ending.

And then it occured again yesterday afternoon with my older son. He had arrived home from school alone - first time in the nine days of school. He was in his room when I returned from running errands, playing a video game. I entered his room and sensing no hostility I eventually sat in the chair next to him and watched him play. A few questions about the game were answered candidly and eventually more questions about school were answered likewise. He even volunteered information about other subjects. You know - an honest to goodness conversation that ended when everyone involved sensed the goodness had come to an appropriate ending.

I left the room feeling REALLY good about myself and the state of our world in general. Two good conversations in two days - it doesn't always happen that way in this world of parenting teenagers!!

Shortly after this my husband and I travel to PoHigh for our younger son's football scrimmage. Which also was encouraging. A head coach who was engaged in the boys and the action. Assistant coaches who also played their roles well. Boys who performed pretty well for their first outing of the season. Already a change of pace from last season.

Upon returning home I was no where near looking for a meaningful conversation with my boys. I mean, come on, I know when not to push my luck. But at some point in the evening - about the time my oldest was heading to take a shower - something obviously had altered the happy state of my little world. He was surly and exasperated with any spoken word from my mouth. He made his way to the shower letting his opinion be known.

And since I really am trying hard to work our way through this I turn to my husband and ask, "Does my tone of voice say 'kiss my (boohind)', because that is the tone I am getting back?!?!"

It takes him a couple of seconds to recover from laughing, but he assures me that he is not hearing that tone in my voice.

"Great, just checking."

Parenting is not for the faint of heart - or for those without a sense-of-humor!

simple faith

2008-08-11T08:04:00.003-05:00

A Boy and His Truck

It was our oldest son's 16th birthday. He had finally helped narrow down the choices for his first vehicle. My husband, my son, Red, and myself head to the sunflower state to shop for a truck. At our second stop he lays claim to a dark blue 1999 Ford Ranger. He is happy and all is right with the world.

The next week it is time to take his driving test for his license. I make the "prepared mom" phone call to make sure we show up with all the paperwork, etc that is needed these days to take a driving test. After lunch we journey out to the testing facility and take a number. After waiting a short while, it is his turn. Height, weight, picture, fingerprint, signature - let the driving test begin!

A few short moments after the tester leaves to meet him in the parking lot she returns. It seems his brake light over the cab is out. The lone ranger cannot be used to take the test. But, we could bring out another vehicle.

No problem - we can do this. I assume that mindset and we return to the house to pick up my vehicle. We run a check on all the lights, etc before driving back out to the testing facility. Amazingly, my brake light above my rear door is out also!

My son is getting a bit frustrated, but me - no way. I continue my no problem mindset and off we go (screwdriver in hand) to an auto parts shop. . . afterall, changing a lightbulb cannot be that difficult. We get in line and I am still confident that this will go well. This store's commercials promise me a good experience with a knowledgeable and very helpful person.

To make a long story short, that was not my experience. I was also a bit surprised to find out that when you remove the light cover on the brake light that the entire mechanism comes out - wires and all. I know, I asked myself the same thing - why would it be so complicated? You should just be able to pop off the cover and replace a bulb without dealing with all sorts of wires and plastic thingies.

My mindset had deteriorated a bit - focusing more on the false advertising and poor design. But I offered one last hope. We could pick up my husband's truck and still do this testing today. My son declines and I don't blame him. I don't even like to pull the truck in and out of the garage because of its size, much less would I want to try to parallel park the thing for a driving test.

My son is disappointed but not too much. He is off to hang with some of his friends until Dad can get home to fix the problem.

After work my husband arrives home. By this time several boys are in our house playing games in the den. My husband asks my son for the key so he can take a look at the brake light.

Key? Hmmmmm. . . well I took it with me to so and so's house, and I remember showing it to so and so, hmmmm. . . . .

(This is the point in the story that all parents with teenagers are shaking their heads in sympathy or smiling because it is now us, not them.) Yes, he had lost THE ONLY key we owned to the vehicle!!!

The night was spent searching and the next day spent making phone calls. A couple of days later the locksmith shows up at our house to make new keys. We hoped that the age of the truck would mean no computer chips in the keys, but we were not that fortunate. The oldest son learned a valuable lesson when he had to write the check on his account to pay for the locksmith and keys.

It took another couple of trips to the testing place to finally obtain his license. But now he is officially licensed to drive.

And so another chapter of our lives begins.

simple faith

2008-06-20T09:19:00.004-05:00

Updates. . .because life is a bit crazy

Oldest son: Working at the concession stands at a baseball complex. Staying up late, sleeping late (for him), playing worldwide on his new XBox live connection. Counting down the days until he can get his license, but not wanting to help find a vehicle.

Youngest son: Playing baseball and either talking or texting on his phone. Staying up later, sleeping really late, playing worldwide on his brother's new XBox live connection. Looking forward to baseball being over so he can hang out at the pool all day every day.

Husband: After 20 years with one company, has gone to work for a commercial bank. Coaching son's baseball team because "somebody had to do it". Decided it was time to also begin a home remodeling project - because it's best for everything to be crazy at once! Shopping for new clothes more often than ever because things are different at the new job. Somehow managing it all pretty well considering the pace things are moving at around here the last few months.

Baseball: Going pretty well considering the team was a last minute put together. I have been keeping books - pretty easy until you have to have 2 going at once when you are the home team. Most exciting thing so far. . .youngest son pitches his first no hitter! No walks, no hits, no runs!!! We were all so proud!

Basketball goal: Constant source of contention in the house. It refuses to stay up - probably has something to do with the 40 plus mph winds we have had for several weeks straight. The kicker was the day it hit my husband's pick-up when it blew over. Somehow we all survived the incident, although it was not pretty.

House: We are doing some work in the kitchen, laundry room, and bathroom. We, well actually my husband, scraped the ceiling texture off all three rooms. The house is still a minor disaster area. We are waiting for our installer to come in a couple of weeks to put up the ceiling tiles that look like tin and to put in our floor that is ceramic tile that looks like wood. It will be great once it is all done. . .whenever that will be.

Me: Trying to keep everyone and everything going with some resemblance of order and peace. And that is why my blog is so woefully out of date!

Just choosing to dance with the changing rhythms.

simple faith

2008-04-28T08:32:00.004-05:00

Just Another Night in the 'Hood

My husband and I had returned home from a dinner on Thursday night. Nix was at the house hanging with the boys. I had just changed clothes and was settling in to watch the Survivor recording when the excitement began. . .

Youngest son enters the house from playing basketball outside:

"I think Nix broke his ankle."

Simply said. No sense of urgency or sound of being overly concerned in his voice.

I pause for a split second thinking, "Yeah, right."

But I realize that Nix has not followed him in - nor has my older son.

I make my way outside and find Nix laying in the grass, obviously in pain. Great!

"Hey bud, let's roll you over so I can look at your ankle."

"I can't roll over. It hurts too bad." Crumb!

My youngest son has followed me outside. "Call his mom," I say.

I begin asking Nix questions. My youngest son returns outside, phone in hand trying to reach Nix's mom. My husband has also ventured outside.

"Have you gotten ahold of her yet?"

"No. Nobody is answering either phone." Perfect!

As this is said Nix points out that he thinks the car coming up the street is his mom. Sure enough, she pulls up - wow!

"Um, I think you may want to pull in the drive," I say.

"Is that Nix on the ground?!"

"Yeah."

Luckily Nix's mom is low key. She has taken him to the emergency room no less than 3 or 4 times this school year. Concussion, cracked ribs, broken collar bone. . .all from football season.

We eventually get him loaded in her van. She points out this would be the second broken bone in our care - the sledding incident that ended up with a broken hand a couple of winters ago. I know. . . crazy.

She will stop by the house to get her husband - and the camera. Poor Nix will have more than one page in his scrapbook of emergency room visits!

Diagnosis: torn ligament.

Treatment: brace, crutches, and lots of sympathy from junior high girls.

I think he will rebound and hopefully be well in time for all the football camps.

simple faith

2008-04-25T10:02:00.003-05:00

Laundry Lady Lamentations

Last week my people were just hanging at the house one morning. Volunteer/Meeting Girl was working on a project and preparing for a meeting. The Laundry Lady was on day 2 of trying to make the mountains of laundry disappear. It was all going calmly and relatively well - the morning seemed to be on track.

About midmorning, as meeting time was approaching, the Laundry Lady went to make the "switch". You know, taking the stuff out of the dryer and putting the next load from the washing machine to the dryer. All in hopes of repeating the process in a timely manner throughout the day.

The large load of khaki shorts and pants was in the moving process. A couple of pair were thrown in the dryer when something caught the Laundry Lady's eye. . . something icy blue - definitely out of place amongst the khaki. Further examination revealed the substance to be gum.

The Laundry Lady sighs. Volunteer/Meeting Girl checks the time. And the Queen of Hearts, well she roars, "Off with their heads!!" She obviously assumes the boys are to blame - actually everyone assumes the boys are to blame.

A deviation from the time schedule is required while the Laundry Lady shakes out every piece of clothing from the load. Also she checks every item for more gum. There is plenty to be found. She even checks each pocket of the several pair of khaki CARGO shorts and pants that make up the load. A part of her is just wanting to make sure an entire pack of gum is not still in a pocket. The Queen of Hearts is secretly hoping to find the offender.

All the items are then reloaded into the washer. Hopefully another round will get rid of any sticky stuff.

After Volunteer/Meeting Girl is back home, the Laundry Lady revisits the problem. While loading the khakis into the dryer she pulls off a few more icy blue pieces. Saying a quick prayer of protection, she pushes the start button on the dryer.

All seems to be well as she unloads the dryer. Nothing appears to be stuck together or ruined. A quick peek into the dryer shows no signs of damage either. Whew! She opens the washer to make the next "switch" and suddenly realizes she is somewhat stuck to the floor. Yes, by something icy blue.

"OFF WITH THEIR HEADS!!", yells the Queen of Hearts. But with whose head? Everyone realizes that the offender has not been identified. Calmer voices prevail. The Mom is in completely control by the time the boys are picked up from school.

This week the Laundry Lady checked ALL the pockets in the khaki load. Her findings? A couple of quarters, a movie ticket, and an entire pack of icy blue gum.

Sigh - someone is going to have to learn to do his laundry if this keeps up!

simple faith

2008-04-15T08:22:00.003-05:00

One of the Perks

I am usually not one to brag, but. . .I talked to an astronaut the other day. Yeah, a real-live-been-to-space-have-a-street-named-after-me astronaut. It was cool. It was exhilarating. It was humbling. It was affirming.

Weird reactions, I know. But let me try to explain.

Although I love my chosen path, I still feel a bit self-conscious when someone asks me what I do. Even if they pose the question in the politically correct fashion of, "Do you work outside the home?" Normally I just smile and quip, "Not at anything I get paid for!"

But, I know what they mean. We tend to define ourselves somewhat by our "job" and, well, we also tend to judge people by their career field - or lack there of.

Sometimes I just want to shout, "You know, I am smart! I have my college degree! I can speak in complete sentences that don't have to have rhyming words in them (but yet I can rhyme like a mad woman)! I am a contributing member of society! I CHOOSE THIS!"

Very few people make me feel this way anymore. I am pretty comfortable with myself. But I would not be honest if I did not say there are days that I envy my friends and family that have those cool jobs. They travel, they meet important people. Their role is easily seen and defined.

Most of what I do is "behind the scenes" type of stuff. In one particular organization I volunteer for I literally spend hours doing this type of work. My name is rarely signed on anything I produce, except for a group of letters received by a few very generous donors.

And this is where the astronaut comes in. I have been mailing him things for a couple of years, updating him on things the Foundation does in his honor. This spring the particular project spiked his interest. We provided the astronomy teacher at the high school with funding for a camera to be used on the telescope at the high school. This will allow them to take photos of space.

I was out of town for a few days and upon returning home found the astronaut's name and phone number to contact. Wow! Cool! Scary!

He was gracious when I returned his call. There was a reason this project spiked his interest (other than the obvious - space). His son will be journeying to the International Space Station this fall for a 10 day assignment. His job? Taking pictures in space! He would like to donate some of his son's photos to our science department. Wow! Cool! Exhilarating!

After our phone conversation I wanted so badly to call the teacher and tell him the news. But, this was not my job. I instead called the girl whose job it is to break the news and make the arrangements for such a donation. Humbling.

So instead I brag here - just for a moment. I spoke to a real-live astronaut!

Some days the benefits of this "job" rock!!!

simple faith

2008-04-09T08:12:00.003-05:00

A Whole New World

I turned around twice in my kitchen and found myself in a new world. . . . .

Last summer the neighbor's falling tree took out our basketball goal by the driveway. We finally replaced it a couple of weekends ago. Once again, the driveway was filled with boys playing some very serious pick-up games.

While preparing dinner last week I looked up to see something new - a boy I did not know in my driveway and his vehicle parked on the street. Just last spring I would have opened my door, greeted him, and introduced myself. I decided against this because, well, the boys are getting older and "the mom" doesn't need to be so June Cleaverish. I also noted that there must be more boys still in the vehicle because at least 3 of the boys from my yard had congregated that direction and seemed to be visiting with somebody.

Although I opted not to embarrass my boys, I did alert my husband to the new development. Always good for teenagers to know "the dad" is home for crowd control purposes!

At the dinner table we received a breakdown of names, etc. from the predinner game. It allowed us to at least put names and faces together.

While cleaning after dinner I hear unfamiliar voices in the driveway. This time it is a group of boys I know who have shown up to play the nightcap. They drove themselves!

I looked at my husband and said, "You realize we have just entered a new world."

And so, instead of checking the driveway to make sure I do not back over anyone's bike or scooter I will now try to avoid backing into anyone's vehicle.

Wow - things change quickly!

simple faith

2008-03-30T17:28:00.003-05:00

Nonsense

I was making my way to bed and stopped for one last drink of water. I picked up my cup which I had been dutifully drinking from all day. One big drink and the thoughts came rushing. . .

"Oh, my! I think I just swallowed something. EEWWW!"

But actually swallowing it was not the right word. Whatever it was, real or imagined, was stuck in my throat. Too far down to hack it up, but definitely stuck and not going down further.

I cleared my throat. I coughed. I swallowed hard. I took another drink (after checking the cup). Whatever it was seemed not to budge.

I wish I could tell you that my mind moved into a mode that logically began to think through the problem and pondered a resolution and possible consequences. But no, my mind moved to the childhood poem of "I Know an Old Lady Who Swallowed a Fly."

Well, by the time I have completely recited the entire poem (properly I might add), the problem - real or imagined - fixed itself.

It is terribly interesting that I can still recite an entire work of nonsensical poetry. So if you are in need of logical, helpful information you should probably consult someone else. But if you need a silly poem, rhyme, saying, or story about something - I may be your girl.

Of course!

simple faith

2008-02-06T08:48:00.000-06:00

The Sometimes Gardener

Monday brought beautiful weather to my small city on the plains. It was a day that called for being outdoors. I had passed other opportunities lately to work outside, but was determined that nothing was keeping me from watering and cleaning on Monday.

So, out came the hoses, the rake, the trash bags, and the flip flops. I wasn't really approaching the work with joy, so I also donned my "put on your big girl panties and deal with it" t-shirt. I call it my attitude adjustment shirt.

It truly only takes a few minutes for my mind and attitude to embrace the wonder of working outdoors. The smell of damp earth and the warmth of the sun do my attitude good.

By the time I am half way around the front of my house watering I come across my hyacinth beginning to peek out of the ground. I am a bit surprised, but realize that it is indeed time for the renewal of the seasons to begin. I am filled with anticipation for their magenta color to appear while also experiencing a bit of regret for not planting more bulbs this past fall.

I continue watering noting what will bloom next and saying a quick prayer over the azaleas. I have never had good luck with these - hopefully blooms will come this spring.

After dragging the hoses to their proper places, I start the traveling sprinkler. Our grass is in need of a quick watering. Then off to the back yard. I water one bed and "plan" some new plants to add for this spring. This bed is one I would call successful. The plan is going well and the results are what I want. This bed actually brings me much joy in the summer as I sit on the patio.

But, my attention must shift to one of my trouble spots. Probably the worst bed in our yard - the corner bed. Each year I have high hopes for this bed. I have literally planted all sorts of things here hoping for a good outcome. Although on occasion one or two things end up working well, overall the bed is always disappointing. Truly the only consistently performing thing in this bed are the weeds. Seriously, if our county fair had a catagory for "best weed" there would have been several years I could have taken the blue ribbon!

This time I have decided to try a new trick. After cleaning out the leaves and dead sunflower stalks, I lay down wet newspapers. I have read in more than one place that this will kill the weeds and/or grass. So, this is my new "let's give this a try" thing for this year. Of course, I didn't factor in the need for mulch to put on top of the newspaper. But after a quick trip to the store it was covered - literally.

I wish I was more devoted to my gardening, but even being a sometimes gardener has taught me alot about how it reflects life. Somethings flourish with very little care. Other things require more attention. On occasion, some things just need to be moved. And most things require pruning or deadheading. But above all, things constantly change. Some things I can control, and others I cannot. Even when bad things happen, like losing a beautiful and mature tree, good things come from it. Sunshine allows things to grow where they once would not. A new beauty takes hold.

And today, just two days later, there is snow on the ground. The planting season is not yet here. It is still time to enjoy the dormant season and to marvel at the cycle of it all.

Just ponderings from a sometimes gardener.

simple faith

2008-01-25T07:51:00.000-06:00

Girlfriend Advice

A recent response to "my oldest son just got his permit" line:

"Good luck with the permit thing - my advice, make sure he gets plenty of driving time before getting his license and call your doctor and ask for prozac."

Girlfriends - gotta' love them!

simple faith

2008-01-24T10:04:00.000-06:00

Milestone Day

I found myself in front of my 15 year-old's closet, trying to remember what he had worn to school that day. I remember him showing up in the kitchen dressed in shorts and a t-shirt. Since it was not going to get above freezing I had sent him back to put on something long - you know, with legs and sleeves.

I remember the navy sweats, but what shirt? There was nothing obviously missing. Try as I might, I could not remember even the color of his t-shirt, or which hoodie he had worn.

"This is crazy," I said to myself. But moms do crazy things like this - worrying about things our kids do not worry about.

The phone rings, it is the call I have been expecting.

"Mom, I'm done."

"Great! Do you want to come home and brush your hair or change?"

"No - I'm good."

"What hoodie do you have on?"

"I'm not wearing it. I am going to wear my t-shirt."

"Which t-shirt do you have on?"

"Gray Hollister. Can you just come get me? Do we have time to get something to eat?"

"We can afterwards. Be there in a minute."

I am in the van remembering this milestone day in my life. I had known for several days exactly what outfit I was going to wear and had taken much care with my hair and my make-up.

I knew worrying about clothes and hair were not going to be high on my 15 year-old's list, but his blase' attitude was a bit unnerving.

We arrive at the tag office. I have tried to give his hair a quick once over with my hand, but he pulled away. Boys! Well, this boy anyway!

It takes only a few minutes until he is official. He leaves the building with his driving permit - and his picture looks great.

He weighs his options for a treat. No, we are not getting anything triple dipped. Smoothie? Yes, I can do that.

Fifteen and a half years ago we were blessed with a beautiful baby boy who has given us much joy and laughter. The milestone days are coming quicker now. He will all too soon be journeying out on his own.

Just trying to embrace each day.

simple faith

2008-01-16T10:08:00.000-06:00

The Repairman's Best Friend

For some odd reason we have experienced the need for 4 repairmen at our house in just the few short weeks since Christmas. I am not sure what the phenomenon is, but quite frankly I am ready for it to go away.

Two plumbers, one appliance repairman, and today the garage door guys.

Choosing to be thankful attitude: nothing has been catastrophic; we have a house that we can repair; and although I would rather be spending money on other things, the cost has been reasonable.

Choices - make the thankful one!

simple faith

2007-12-31T08:37:00.000-06:00

A Simple Joy

"The mail is here."

"I'll get the opener."

"She looks just like her mom."

"He has his dad's eyes."

"What a great family picture!"

"Another little one?!?!"

This conversation, and many like it, happen on an almost daily basis at our home during the Christmas season. We love receiving all the cards and letters from friends and family.

Many of our friends made here in our small city on the plains have moved on to other parts of our country. Often these Christmas greetings may be the only time of the year we "see" them. Unfortunately, sometimes it is also the only time of the year we touch base with them.

Last year I began adding a Christmas letter to our cards simply because I enjoy getting them from others so much. Perhaps this coming Christmas we will include a family picture - simply because I enjoy getting them from others so much.

I need to put that in my notebook. . . .

simple faith

2007-12-26T13:42:00.000-06:00

Naughty List

My 13 year old accidentally found himself on Santa's naughty list Christmas Eve morning.

While preparing to leave my mom's house, he tripped over one of my just-turned-four-year-old nephew's toys and broke it. (It was later repaired.)

My nephew immediately went and told Granddad and insisted my son be put on Santa's naughty list. He even handed the phone to Granddad and told him to call Santa.

Granddad did and my son found himself on the naughty list (at least in my nephew's eyes)!

At some point in the day he must have redeemed himself because Santa arrived on schedule to stuff his stocking.

simple faith

2007-12-17T19:19:00.001-06:00

Old School

Old school. When I hear those words it brings to mind images of stuff from the 70's - you know, afros, high top canvas Converses, Boston - old school stuff.

Cell phone boy has an old school streak in him. He has always been a whistler. Lately he has been whistling "Candy Man" and "Sweet Caroline" (yes, Neil Diamond). If I had to describe him, I would say, "Adam Sandler at 14."

Saturday several boys were hanging at the frat house while the snow was falling outside, biding time until the winter formal. They were taking a lunch break from their search and destroy game on one of the gaming systems. I was in the kitchen also and heard the following:

Cell phone boy: "Let's go old school after lunch."

My ears perk up and my mind wants to move to imagining things like board games or Pong. But before my mind can wander it is moved to a state of shock and confusion.

"Let's play Halo 2!"

Halo 2?? Wait, didn't Halo 3 just come out this year? I'm not really up on the gaming stuff, but I know we have owned it less than six months. You are kidding me, right?

I am wise enough to say nothing. I know they don't really think I am cool (although I am), but no need in driving home the perception by pointing out what old school really is about!

Halo 2 - puuuleeeze!

simple faith

2007-12-16T14:44:00.000-06:00

The Drama of It All

Although I love many things about my small city on the plains, there are a few things that make me want to beat my head against the wall. Winter formal would be one of those latter things.

It is a tradition that began I don't know when, but continues today - a formal winter dance for the junior high students. I have dealt with this tradition from almost all sides: parent; chaperone; and president of school PTSA hosting it. I have not (AND WILL NOT) deal with it as dance chair. It just seems to add more drama to the ever so drama filled junior high years.

I will just share a bit of our story from this year - don't want to overburden you with all the drama.

Let's begin with our oldest son. He is not really big on this type of event, so my approach with him began just with one question, "Are you going to winter formal this year?" He answers affirmatively, which surprises me a bit, but I am glad he is venturing out for the occasion.

The next question is one that must be asked several times over the weeks leading up to the dance, "Are you taking anyone?" The answer to this question changes often. At first it is no. And then a friend asks him to take her. This creates some drama for reasons I will not go in to, but eventually I must ask. . . .

"Does she want us to pick her up or are you just meeting her there?"

"What color of dress is she wearing?" (Corsage/pictures - he can't fathom the need for this - just trust me.)

"Will she want to take pictures?"

He promises to find out the answers. The next time I inquire about these things - she has decided to go with her ex-boyfriend who cheated on her with 2 girls while they were dating. I assure him she has not made the best choice, but am secretely a bit thankful to not have those complications in our evening.

We manage to find some clothes and the issue of a pre-party to attend works itself out thanks to the POLO house.

Now on to the younger son. There really is no question as to whether or not he is attending. Any sort of social gathering calls to him like a moth to a flame. But I do have to ask if he is going with anyone. I am informed that his girlfriend is a Trojan. This is news to me - have not met her. I quickly adopt a "don't ask, don't tell policy". She is out of our school district and technically is not allowed to attend.

We manage to find some clothes and the issue of a pre-party to attend works itself out thanks to Pink's house.

I drop the boys off at their pre-parties and hang around at each for a bit. The one at POLO house is much more interesting as more and more 9th graders arrive - girls with heels and dresses and cleavage. While trying to snap a group shot of the 23 which were in attendance at that time, we ask Blondie try standing up straight and bending her knees as opposed to the hands on the knees bend over on the front row pose. A world of difference between 7th and 9th graders!!!!!

My oldest son was way out of his comfort zone at the pre-party and was hesitant as we dropped him and others off at the dance. My husband and I discussed this over dinner and were anxious to see how the evening went for both boys.

They were eventually dropped off at home by friends, with cell phone boy in tow. We inquire how the dance was. Our younger son's girlfriend did make an arrival there. That is how he spent his evening. We asked our older son if he had fun and THAT smile came across his face. He glanced at us, his brother, and cell phone boy then said that he danced with one girl all night. I knew the name but, didn't really know her.

"She was at POLO house." Oh my, Blondie!

Well, we sat up for a bit listening to all the stories. It was good to hear them all and know that our boys and their friends really are good kids.

The evening was filled with the perfect amount of drama (for our house anyways)!

simple faith

2007-12-12T08:39:00.000-06:00

Checklist Afternoon

It was a checklist afternoon. You know the kind, several things to accomplish and you work your way through them as best you can.

Deliver youngest son to wrestling practice. Check.

Drop off a bill payment. Check

Help in Symphony office. Check

Mail things at Post Office. This is where I was on my list. I gather the stack of things to take care of at this stop.

Check the P.O. box. Check.

Drop letter in the "you put this in my box and it doesn't belong to me" slot. Check.

Weigh 2 letters. Check.

Drop stack of Foundation letters, Christmas cards, and bills in outgoing mail slot. Check.

Package Step-Dad's early Christmas gift to mail. Check.

Package nephew's Spider Man pjs birthday gift to mail. Check.

While standing in line with my 2 packages and one letter still in need of postage, my mind moves to my next stop - the bank. Two checks and a deposit slip. . . . .

Two checks and a deposit slip? My mind begins to race and that sinking feeling comes in my stomach.

Oh, surely not!

I mentally retrace my steps. Perhaps I left them on the kitchen counter. No, I know they were in the stack of things I left the house with. Maybe, by some chance, they are still in the van.

I decide not to unduly embarrass myself by asking the worker who helps me with my packages and letter about my quandry.

I take a quick trip to the van. As I thought, no checks or deposit slip! Crumb!!!!!

I return inside the Post Office. My friend is working the end window (thank you).

And I begin, "Um, I think I dropped some stuff in the outgoing mail box that I shouldn't have dropped."

"Really? What?"

"Um, two checks and a deposit slip."

"Were they in an envelope?"

"Um, no. They were just loose."

She flashes me that look that those of us who know her are familiar with. It is a cross between a smirk of amusement and the exasperation of "Why do they let people like this out in public."

She asks one gentleman to go through the basket (the line is long and I know she can't rescue me.) He is familiar - our boys played football together this fall. I know I have met him and had conversations with him. I can even tell you where he was raised - New Orleans - but I cannot for the life of me come up with his name or his son's name. My hopes of "connecting" with him and him taking a personal interest in helping me are fading. . . .He only gives it a minute and then insists he must get the truck out.

Truck???

I try not to whine, but am not sure I accomplished it, when I said, "But what if my stuff is in that basket that is going on the truck?"

My friend matter of factly replies, "It will come back."

Yeah right it will come back! One check has "for deposit only" on the back, but the other one is ENDORSED!!!! Needless to say, I am becoming a bit antsy.

After what seems an eternity my friend asks someone else to go through the basket. I cannot see this person around the corner.

After a minute my friend says to the person, "No, they are just loose. Two checks and a deposit slip."

Please, oh please, oh please. I do not even want to think about the conversation I will have to have with my husband if these are not found.

And then a familiar voice says my name as he rounds the corner. It is the sweet gentleman who always gave me chocolate kisses when he worked the windows. He found my stuff!

I thank them profusely.

And I leave thankful that sometimes my small city on the plains is so much like a small town!

simple faith

2007-12-11T09:24:00.000-06:00

Christmas Music

I recently received one of those "Everything About Me - Christmas Edition" e-mails. You know, the one you answer all the questions with your favorite of things. I couldn't fill it out. Favorite memory? You're kidding me, right? How could I possibly choose one (or two)?

And favorite Christmas song? Well, I am a Christmas music lover. I listen to all kinds - sometimes throughout the year. So choosing a few to call my favorites would be impossible. But I thought I would share the lyrics to one that always touches my heart. The version I have is sung by Natalie Cole and is beautiful.

"My Grown Up Christmas List"

Do you remember me
I sat upon your knee
I wrote to you
With childhood fantasies

Well, I'm all grown up now
And still need help somehow
I'm not a child
But my heart still can dream

So here's my lifelong wish
My grown up christmas list
Not for myself
But for a world in need

No more lives torn apart
That wars would never start
And time would heal all hearts
And everyone would have a friend
And right would always win
And love would never end
This is my grown up christmas list

As children we believed
The grandest sight to see
Was something lovely
Wrapped beneath our tree

Well heaven only knows
That packages and bows
Can never heal
A hurting human soul

No more lives torn apart
That wars would never start
And time would heal all hearts
And everyone would have a friend
And right would always win
And love would never end
This is my grown up christmas list

What is this illusion called the innocence of youth
Maybe only in our blind belief can we ever find the truth

(there'd be)
No more lives torn apart
That wars would never start
And time would heal all hearts
And everyone would have a friend
And right would always win
And love would never end, oh
This is my grown up christmas list
This is my only life long wish
This is my grown up christmas list

May the Prince of Peace invade your day.

simple faith

2007-12-10T21:41:00.000-06:00

You Just Never Know

It was Saturday night and we were headed out to a party. I popped my head out the kitchen door and said to the five boys playing football in the cold and wet of my lawn which was quickly becoming a skating rink:

"I ordered pizza - the money is by the front door. Take your shoes off when you come in. Somebody is tracking mud through my house!"

They reply:

"Okay."

"It wasn't me."

"Or me!"

Sunday afternoon as we pull into the drive after church and lunch I see something on my porch railing. Two socks - frozen solid. Not even a matched pair.

Somethings are better left unknown.

simple faith

2007-12-05T21:54:00.000-06:00

Lighting Things Up

We are definitely not the Griswalds. In fact, we rarely put lights up outside our house. My husband claims he is the most envied man in the 'hood come January when everyone else is outside in the cold taking down their lights.

But yesterday we lit things up just a bit around our house.

It only required a few times singing this to keep us in check:

"You better watch out, you better not pout, you better not cry,
I'm telling you why - Santa Claus is coming to town."

No crying, only a little pouting, and viola! Lights - on a timer!

Now if I can just get the tree up. . .

simple faith

2007-12-01T12:56:00.000-06:00

Christmas Notebook

Several years ago in my never ending quest to become more organized I came across www.organizedchristmas.com. The site is a great source for any organizing junkie.

Over the years I have adopted what works for me and have learned to let go of the rest (an admirable step). My house has never gone through the entire cleaning process and my freezer has never had dinner in it "for those busy holiday nights". In fact, today I sit surrounded by boxes, needing to get my cards done, and only a few gifts are purchased.

But what has worked for me from this site is the overall method of organizing for and approaching the holidays. The opening page of my notebook has the following quotes:

Expectations tend to be self-fulfilling. (anonymous)

Your life proceeds out of your intentions for it. (Neale Donald Walsch)

One of the exercises from the organizing site leads you through an evaluation of last year's Christmas. It has been an incredibly insightful tool.

I am one of those people who believe that you choose your attitude and that your attitude determines the amount of joy you experience in any situation. So, if you did not like something about your holiday season last year, choose to change it or choose to change your attitude about it. Plan to enjoy the things you participate in doing.

I have set up my notebook to cover four areas: Inspiration/Organization; Christmas Cards; Gift Ideas; and Past Gifts. It's also a great place for all your receipts to find a home.

The Past Gifts section holds master gift lists for the past years (since 2000). It is eye opening to look back and realize that I have a tendency to get some people the same gifts over and over!

The Christmas Cards section keeps the mailing list with updated addresses and copies of past cards and letters. ( I also have a tendency to choose the same type of cards on occasion.)

In a perfectly organized world I would be sitting on my sofa, eating homemade bon bons, preparing to overdose on football and holiday movies because all of my shopping, mailing, baking, cooking, planning, etc would be DONE.

But instead, I journey forward with purposefulness and a good attitude.

simple faith

2007-11-30T21:59:00.001-06:00

Christmas Pumpkins

I saw them last year at a cute little shop while out with my Mom and Aunt. Pumpkins all decorated up for the Christmas season! Well, I knew I must add them to my decorating for this Christmas. And so since about January it has been on my decorating ideas list in my Christmas notebook - I know, but that is for another story.

This week the decorating process began - it never is anything short of a week. Not that we do that much, but that it just seems to take me time to work my way through the process. . . .

One night I washed the pumpkins. The next night they were painted with a beautiful metalic pearl white craft paint - I really like that paint. And last night they were decorated with pretty, shiny red ribbon, raffia, ornaments, berries, and greenery. And today they found their way to the front porch.

They turned out absolutely wonderful!

In the midst of decorating them last night I swooshed through the den on my way to retrieve the raffia and proclaimed, "I really like my Christmas pumkins!"

"I can tell," responded my husband.

As I am finishing my project, I step back to admire them and once more proclaim how cool they are. My husband gets up from the sofa, joins me in the kitchen to admire my work, and then leaves me to the finishing touches of fluffing bows and cleaning up.

I love that man! Not every guy would put up with such pumpkin craziness!!!

simple faith

2007-11-18T13:34:00.000-06:00

HAPPY (belated) BIRTHDAY!

My panhandle state celebrated its 100th birthday on Friday, November 16, 2007. The day was filled with planned events all over the state cumulating an entire year of celebrations. I, unfortunately, was unable to attend any of them.

But, I did arise with a song in my heart on Friday morning:

baba baba baba babaOoooooo-klahoma!
Where the winds come sweeping down the plains,
And the waving wheat sure smells sweet
When the winds come right behind the rains.

Visions of Rogers and Hammersteins' musical danced in my head! Then my thoughts became captivated with another vision.

Several years ago, we had a talent show of sorts for our Sunday School department. I will not divulge all the details in interest of protecting the innocent (and not so innocent), but one performance in particular always brings a smile to my face.

One of my friends provided entertainment dressed as quite the hillbilly girl singing "I'm Just a Girl Who Cain't So No" from the musical "Oklahoma!" It was a riot! She and I share the same twisted sense-of-humor that can easily get us in trouble. Her sharing with me the fact that she REALLY wanted to perform that song dressed as a pregnant hillbilly has forever imprinted that image in my thoughts.

And so my song changed from "Oklahoma!" to "I'm Just a Girl Who Cain't Say No" in a matter of heartbeats. And as so often happens with songs, it stayed with me the remainder of the morning. So while others sang "We're Oklahoma Rising" or baba baba baba baba. . . . - I simply found myself "in a turrible fix"!

Thanks my friend, I wouldn't trade that memory for anything!!

simple faith

2007-11-08T08:15:00.000-06:00

Changing Seasons

Fall is having a hard time arriving in my panhandle state. We have had freezing night temperatures this week, but our daytime temperatures continue to hover in the upper 60's and will reach the mid 70's during the weekend.

Our red maple tree was the prettiest color I have seen it since planting it a few years ago. Its brilliant color is already fading. Yet our native elm and other large trees are just beginning to dress themselves in their fall colors.

The berries on an ornamental tree are turning bright red, yet the hot pink geraniums beside it continue to bloom proudly.

A limbo of sorts seems to exist in my yard. Soon the changes of fall will fully arrive - it is inevitable for the seasons always change. God made it that way.

This year my yard seems to be a mirror of some things going on in my life. There are some changes that are coming - they are inevitable. Yet the timing of them seems to exist in a limbo that only God truly understands.

A new season in our spiritual journey will soon begin. God is bringing changes. Much like I wait expectantly the newness of the changing seasons in my world, I also wait expectantly this change.

Celebrating the beauty of the passing season and anticipating the beauty of the new season.

simple faith

2007-11-01T09:05:00.000-05:00

Why I Speak

It was Shade Off Drugs day during Red Ribbon Week. My fifteen year old son shows up in the kitchen sporting his Texas Hold 'em look - mirrored sun glasses, San Diego baseball cap, and an orange hoodie with the hood up.

"I like that look!", I say. "Make sure you don't loose any of that stuff at school."

"I won't." (Read that again with a 15 year-old attitude.)

"Have you seen my backpack?"

"Have you looked on your back?"

And he wonders why I say the things I say. . . .

simple faith

2007-10-09T10:02:00.000-05:00

It's not just me

I have always rationalized that she must exist out there somewhere - someone even more obsessed with pumpkins than I. But I had not yet encountered her, until yesterday anyways.

It was finally a cool morning and the temperatures were to be in the low 80's. This day was to be a far cry from the past few weeks where our temps have hovered around 90 and the coolness of a fall morning has not been found. I ventured to the plant place and picked up a mum and some dianthus. I know it is also time to plant pansies and decorative cabbage, but I can't bring myself to pull up my impatients and geraniums - they are truly stunning right now. Well, the impatients are a little limp on this cool morning . . . but, anyhow . . .

My next stop is a grocery store which always has a great price on pumpkins. Mind you, this is my "basic pumpkin" buying trip. I walk in and forego the basket to check out the selection. After carefully examining the many pumpkins, I decide there are a few that will work. I return to the entrance to fetch a basket.

By the time I have returned to the produce section with the basket, she is there. Her basket already holds several large pumpkins. She sees me eyeing the pumpkins and the conversation begins.

"That one is a good one. No, that one right there. You should get that pumpkin."

I am a bit taken back. Nobody has ever invaded my pumpkin shopping.

I try to be kind. "I had some others picked out."

She is undeterred. She has spotted the pie pumpkins. She snatches one up and declares it perfect - for me, not her! I again decline - perhaps a bit on the defiant side - it did have a cute stem and shape.

I try to distance myself from her. She has moved to the basket of turban squash. I saw it coming, but hoped I would be gone by the time it happened. The turban squash are 49 cents a pound, not 49 cents a piece.

By the time I have picked out my big orange pumpkins and have moved to the pie pumpkins, squash and gourds I notice the turban squash basket is empty except for one lonely squash. She has made it to the checkout stand with her basket full.

I suddenly decide I am in desperate need of cookies as I dash down an aisle to avoid a confrontation with her that will lead to a discussion of the squash pricing - she is on her way back to the bin with a worker it tow.

I am done shopping and she is still at the checkout stand. I duck into another lane, but observe her closely. She tries to choose just one turban squash. It is impossible. She takes them all. She has been kind to the workers, realizing her misunderstanding of the sign.

I feel her pain. But for the record, she is more pumpkin obsessed than I am!

Of course today I am off to the produce stand to splurge on the specialty pumpkins - blue, green, Cinderella, and boo!

I should probably check my cash supply before going. It is best to never write a check that can be directly traced to the cost of my pumpkin obsession!!!

simple faith

2007-10-05T14:11:00.000-05:00

A Wedding Revisited

We recently attended a wedding for two young adults that we greatly admire. We knew going in to the wedding that the colors were almost the same as ours - ours black and white/theirs black and ivory. But the night was full of moments that had me catching my breath and whispering to my husband things like, "Calla lilys!" and "Look at the monogrammed mints!" Yes, in some aspects it was our wedding revisited - and updated by twenty years.

Their pastor did an incredible job during the ceremony. He said all the things I believe about marriage summed up and presented in a beautiful package. He even did an awesome job of keeping the ceremony going when the bride was about to lose her composure during the vows - he quipped, "Yes, sometimes that poorer part is a little hard to take!" The bride and everyone laughed and she was able to continue looking as stunning as she did at the beginning of the ceremony.

About a week later I was still thinking how wonderful it was and remembering how wonderful our ceremony was also. I remembered our pastor's words to us about the three C's, but couldn't exactly come up with the words. So, I drug out the video, dusted it off, found a VCR in our house that was still actually in use, and sat down for a trip down memory lane.

First let me introduce you to our pastor. This is what he wore to the rehearsal: jeans, t-shirt, flip flops, and he did not bother to tuck his rat tail in his collar. Believe it or not, my Grandmother was impressed - not the uptight Baptist preacher she had prepared herself to meet.

His words to us were wise and everyone commented on them at the time. Twenty years later they still speak volumes in our relationship.

Companionship: we must choose to be lifelong friends.

Communication: the key to making the relationship work.

Commitment: what keeps us going through this entire journey together.

Twenty years ago I was deeply, passionately, completely in love with my husband. Today, somehow, I am even more deeply, passionately, completely in love with my husband. It is still the same, yet it is so different.

I cannot wait to see what is in store for us over the next twenty years.

Always and forever.

simple faith

2007-10-03T07:59:00.000-05:00

Set the Table

For the past several years I have had the opportunity to join some of my Methodist friends at an annual luncheon their church hosts as a missions fundraiser. I always look forward to it and have been greatly disappointed the few years I have not been able to attend.

This luncheon is a rarity in today's times. It involves beautiful table settings and generations of women working together to accomplish a common goal.

Each year has a theme - this year's was "100 Years of Oklahoma Hospitality". Each table hostess names their table theme which is then printed in the program and on a table card. This year table names included: Land Run Luncheon - a western themed table; Ties that Bind - a table featuring family heirloom jewelery; and Oh, What a Beautiful Morning - complete with black and white photos from "Oklahoma!".

It is always amazing to see the tables and I always arrive early for the "viewing". I am a closet dishes freak and these ladies pull out no stops with their place settings and table scapes. I leave inspired and appreciative of the art of setting a table - something that is not done often these days.

But what makes my heart sing is the interaction and learning that takes place between the generations. The older generation has taught the younger ones the proper way of setting a table (it is rumored that all tables are inspected and any out of place pieces suddenly find their proper placing overnight) and such things as how to charge a coffee pot (how to fill it with hot water for 30 minutes before using it to serve coffee, thereby warming the pot and keeping it from cooling off too quickly). I honestly have to get out an entertaining book to set a proper table if it has any extra pieces other than my daily norm.

And the older generation has learned from the younger generation about things such as menu changes (congealed salads are really not a necessity) and willingness to pass the torch.

Although these things are good lessons, they do not really touch the heart of the real learning that takes place, the intangible one I see each year.

The lesson of honor and respect among the generations is the lesson that truly makes the difference.

simple faith

2007-09-28T08:18:00.000-05:00

Children's Books

I wandered in to the children's book section this week. I was needing to purchase a gift for my nephew's 2nd birthday. I had looked at the toys at the superstore, but the words "recall" kept ringing in my ears. I also found myself wondering how every toy I looked at would allow his imagination to grow. A two year old boy is fascinating to watch!

It's been a long time since I have been in the children's book section. I began by browsing the Christian books. There were several that were beautiful, but none that had the simplicity for which I was looking.

I began walking a bit more and found the Dr. Suess section. There were several board books just like I was hoping to find. I picked one up, opened it, and was immediately taken back in time.

I was sitting on a couch with a freshly bathed and jammied toddler boy snuggled up to me. We were reading "Go, Dog, Go!", complete with sound effects and drama.

Well, that book was a keeper.

Next came "Dr. Suess' ABC Book". The rhythm of reading that book came back quickly - "Big A, little A. What begins with A?" Once again I was back in one of my boy's bedrooms. This time it was a rare afternoon quiet time that they had brought a book to me to read.

Keeping that one too.

I picked up a couple of others and continued browsing. And then I found it - quite possibly one of my favorite bedtime books - "Good Night, Gorilla". And it was a board book! I smiled as I looked through it, remembering the silly antics of the baby gorilla.

Okay - I HAD to get this one also. So, I put back a couple of other books and left with the three mentioned ones.

We have a special book shelf in one of the boy's closets that holds "keepsake books". These are the ones I cannot bring myself to part with each time we clean out books. Our copy of "Good Night, Gorilla" is there. It's actually in good shape considering all it has been through - two boys. Just one loose page I need to repair and one page that is completely taped back together.

A good reminder to seize each moment, for it all passes quickly.

Carpe Diem.

simple faith

2007-09-26T17:12:00.000-05:00

Being somewhat green

"It's not easy being green." Kermit the frog sang that one. (I have always had a special place in my heart for the Muppets.) And I am really not talking green like Elphaba (from Wicked). No, I am talking the tree hugging, Hollywood hip, culturally elite, Al Gore, Michael Moore thinking type green!

For those of you who know how difficult it was for me to even type those names, please note that I stepped away from the computer, took a few sips of Dr. Pepper to steady myself, and have now returned - I will not use the names again!!

But somehow I am pretty sure that being somewhat green plays out in a much different fashion in my life than in the above mentioned sort of people. You see in my life being somewhat green means the following things.

Keeping my modestly sized house moderately cooled and heated.

Opening blinds on certain days and not on other days.

Opening windows during "perfect temperature" times (doesn't happen a lot in my panhandle state).

Combining errands so I do not drive around and around my small city wasting gas.

On occasion walking to the store - and petitioning my friends who own a grocery store to put in a market in our 'hood.

Reusing paper, paper sacks, plastic bags, and absolutely anything else I think can be reused.

Making my boys use spiral notebooks from (gasp) last year - yes, I know it says a 70 page spiral notebook. . .this one has 67 pages in it - trust me, I counted them (well not really, but my guesstimate can't be too far off).

Not leaving on lights or electronics that are not in use.

CONSTANTLY making sure the doors are all closed properly.

Planting trees and other plants.

Supporting my local farmer's market.

And well, I could go on, but you get the point. We make an honest effort at trying to be good stewards of our world. And why do we do it? Not because we are shooting a mockumentary - oh, sorry - I meant to say dockumentary - no, let's try again - dorkumentary - oh well, whatever it is. No, we do it because it is the right thing to do - being a good steward.

But, ssshhhhh! Please don't tell anyone. They may ask me to host the Oscars next year.

simple faith

2007-09-20T08:09:00.000-05:00

Chicago, IL

Despite our harrowing taxi ride upon arrival, our stay in Chicago was really great.

Our hotel was on the Chicago River. Opening our drapes in our room gave us a much different view than the river - construction! This was not what we had expected, but ended up being a matter of fascination for me each day. I would sit each morning and afternoon for a bit and watch all that was happening. Our small city on the plains does not build skyscrapers and the bird's eye view I had of the process was really pretty cool.

Highlights:
*Eating at Harry Carry's across the street from our hotel. I am sure it is a touristy place, but the antipasta platter was yummy with several cured meats and an awesome blue cheese. I managed to keep myself from buying a pair of sweat pants with "Holy Cow!" across the boohind.

*Roaming the Navy Pier was interesting. I would not recommend using the free trolley service in Chicago unless you really needed to do so. Our experience led to frustration and the beginning of blisters on my feet.

*Old Town Trolley Tour was wonderful, as always. They are one of my favorite tour companies and I learned alot about the city on the tour. I also took the optional ethnic neighborhood part of the tour which was very interesting. The main tour includes a trip on LSD - aka, Lake Shore Drive!

*A couple of other really good restaurants - Maggiano's Little Italy and one of Rick Bayless' restaurants - can't think of the name right now.

*The Art Institute of Chicago was a great museum. Another lady and I walked there and then spent the day roaming and then walked back to our hotel. More blisters! The museum houses several recognizable paintings (including American Gothic) and several things I had never seen or heard of before.

*The Magnificent Mile of shopping was what I kept accidentally calling the Million Dollar Mile. Probably a Freudian thing because I think you would have to have a million dollars to shop there. Perhaps my feet hurting so badly I thought I would cry had something to do with it, but I was not in the mood for high end browsing. The Ralph Lauren Store was a fantasy tour. But sorry Filene's - I don't like digging through stuff to shop - not even for high end bargains! I ultimately limped into Niketown and left wearing one pair of $12 socks and a new pair of tennis shoes and carrying a bag holding another pair of tennies and my "these shoes are not made for walking" sandals. Yes, I said $12 dollar socks and given the circumstances, I would do it again!

*Wrigley Field was a pilgrimage for me. Seriously - I have wanted to go for a really long time and calling it a 40th birthday celebration for me was incredible. If you don't follow baseball I don't have the time to explain the significance to you. If you do follow baseball, rejoice with me. We watched the Cubs play the Brewers. Starting pitchers: Sheets and Zambrano. The wind was blowing in at Wrigley, so no onto Sheffield Drive homeruns. But we did sing during the 7th inning stretch and we left with an autographed picture of Derrek Lee. Unfortunately, my Cubbies lost. But as of this morning they are 1/2 game up on Milwalkee. Go Cubbies!!!

*We took the Untouchables Tour before leaving town. It was purposefully hokey (as expected) but also interesting. While waiting for the bus to arrive my husband leans over and points out an older gentleman waiting to take the tour. "Old ganster," indicates my husband. True, the man had a look about him. Turns out he claims to be Al Capone's great (great?) grandson! Who knows??

We would definitely go to Chicago again. Things I would add to my list to do or see:
Lots more restaurants - touristy and homey.
Several more museums.
Lake, river, and architectural tours.
Shedd Aquarium.
Loyola and DePaul Universities.
Cubs (again), Sox, and Bears.
Stadium tours.

Find the adventure in every day!

simple faith

2007-09-19T08:42:00.000-05:00

Arriving and Departing

Last year, with a 20th anniversary and 40th birthday pending, my husband and I began discussing taking a trip to celebrate the occasions. We eventually decided on a cruise and began making some of the preparations - as in getting a passport.

In the spring we began searching for a cruise. We consulted my Mom and StepDad - they are becoming quite the cruisers. Armed with information and ideas we kicked around the ideas for weeks. We simply could not commit to anything. I finally stated the obvious by noting that we really did not seem too fired up about this idea. My hesitations: taking a cruise during hurricane season and hot weather (if I don't enjoy the hotter than Hades summers in my panhandle state, why would I pay good money to cruise someplace that is also hot in August?).

So, we began exploring other options. An Alaskan cruise would have rocked - our budget anyways. Chicago has always intrigued us both and we began looking online for places to stay, etc. It didn't take too long to discover that a weekend in Chicago was going to be a bit on the expensive side. We nixed the idea and settle for looking into cruises for next spring.

Unbeknownst to us, God was making a way. My husband was given the opportunity to attend a conference in Chicago in August - cool huh? We made the arrangements and were off on our adventure.

We have flown in and out of Chicago more than once, but have never actually "been" in Chicago. I was not really sure what to expect and well, we got off to a harrowing start on our adventure.

We decided to take a taxi to the hotel. At O'Hare you get in line and as the next taxi pulls forward you have your ride. As we are waiting a driver comes to the airport guy in charge, says something, and we are offered a ride downtown in a waiting taxi. We realize that someone else is already in the taxi and we are told we are "ride sharing" and given the indication that it will be less expensive. As the driver crams our belongings in his trunk, he also shoves yet another person's belongings in also and all 4 of us passengers are off to downtown Chicago.

It takes me less than a minute to decide that this is a really bad idea. Our driver's skills both in driving and communicating are seriously questionable. I exchange all sorts of looks with my husband. We have arrived on Sunday, but this is not quite the holy experience I was looking forward to having - in fact I am beginning to wonder if a Pearly Gate experience is in my immediate future.

The traffic is horrible and our driver is AGGRESSIVE. I try to make small talk with the lady sitting next to me. "Is the traffic always this bad?" She has not lived here very long and is obviously pondering her own Pearly Gate experience.

At an unusually slow moment of our trip I spot one of those digital construction signs. It states that some street is closed - take LSD. I am laughing, the lady next to me is not as amused and has no idea what the sign means, and I am almost certain my driver has taken the sign literally.

At just the precise moment that I have decided that I would rather walk than be in this cab any longer, our driver exits the freeway. I am thinking that surely the residential/downtown experience will be better. He is dropping off the lady next to me first. As she tries to explain where her address is I am sending up "flare prayers" for each pedistrian anywhere near us - trust me, our driver does not care for them.

After unloading her, our driver somehow, miraculously, gets us to our hotel. As I slide out of the backseat I lean forward and say, "Good luck" to the 30something gentleman sitting in the front seat. He has not moved a muscle since our ride began.

We almost took the subway to the airport on the day we flew out. But instead were blessed with a really great and personable taxi driver. He was from Seattle (one of our favorite trips), had driven a limo in NYC, and was living in Chicago because his wife's family is there.

We told him of our horrible experience upon arriving. He asked us what color the cab was. Red. He explained some things to us about that company and its drivers, noting that a lot of locals will not even use the company because of its reputation.

So a warning to anyone visiting Chicago - DO NOT USE THE RED CABS!

By the way, our trip back to the airport was cheaper than our trip to the hotel - go figure.

simple faith

2007-09-16T21:37:00.000-05:00

Hazard Pay

For a couple of years now I have petitioned for hazard pay for the laundry lady. It started a couple of summers ago when I opened the trunk of things that had spent a week at Boy Scout camp with my youngest son. The smell literally made me take a step back.

Things have not changed since. Recently I have even found myself walking through the house while they are at school spraying the Febreze like a mad woman.

The following conversation took place Saturday afternoon. My husband is driving, I am in the passenger seat and my youngest son is in the back - having just completed a football game. I have spent the few blocks from the field to our house alternating between trying to hold my breath and taking quick breaths with my hand under my nose. We are pulling into the garage when it begins.

Youngest son: "Something smells."

Mom: "It's you."

Son: "No - something smells."

Mom: "Honey, it's you."

Son: "No. The garage smells like Lowe's."

Mom: "Oh - Dad picked up some stuff for the lawn. You need to put your football stuff in the basket outside."

Yes, I said the basket outside - as in on the back patio. I have begun making him put his really smelly stuff in a laundry basket outside until the laundry lady can wash it.

Anyone want to sign a petition?

simple faith

2007-09-12T22:24:00.000-05:00

A Smashing Success

It seems that each time I enter a new decade my doctor and his nurse note the milestone with a new list of "things to be watching for". I was quite dismayed when at 30 the nurse noted my age on my chart in large numbers and circled it, just to make sure it was noticed. I was not sure why she felt the need to do such a thing - afterall I had simply turned 30, not contacted some deadly disease. That visit began the "things to be watching for" discussions.

So in May of this year, with the fourtieth birthday only months away, the words "baseline mammogram" were used. My doctor scribbled something intelligible on his prescription pad, signed his name, and said, "Let's get this done."

Now in my short time on this earth I have become familiar with baselines on basketball courts and baselines on baseball diamonds - baseline medical tests were not a part of my vocabulary. To be honest I am not really sure that I am thrilled to add them to my vocabulary. It pretty much signifies the passing into a new era of my life.

Not wanting to rush into this new era, I placed the doctor's orders in my calendar for the Tuesday following Labor Day. You know, kind of like a 40th birthday gift to myself (haha).

And being gold, I placed the phone call last Tuesday to set up my appointment. I decided to go to our hospital that has a new digital imaging machine (we actually have two hospitals in our small city on the plains). The phone call goes well and the appointment is made.

The kind lady on the phone gives me the following last minute instructions: "No deodorant, lotion, or powder in the area. Any questions?" At this point I am searching for something to write these instructions on and my response is, "No, thank you." I scribble down the words and pause to look at them. Had I heard her correctly? I dared not call back. No, I called Q who possesses a scary amount of knowledge and information about medical things.

I proudly tell her I have made my appointment and then say, "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

I repeat the words I had written on paper. "Now, it is not my custom to put deodorant on my boobs, so does she mean don't wear any deodorant?"

Q is laughing as she begins to explain the process to me and how I don't want anything at all to possibly alter the pictures. "They will pull all the skin possible to put on the platform to take a picture, including any from your armpit area."

Now I am the one laughing. Q and I are just a tad bit differently blessed in the boob department. Trust me, they aren't going to be pulling much!

So today was M day as I will call it. I constantly repeated to myself in the shower - no deodorant, lotion, or powder. I am so routine oriented that this "out of routine" experience is a bit tricky. Thankfully my appointment is early and my chances of smelling like a teenage boy before I get done are somewhat minimal. I pack my deodorant in my purse and I am off on this new adventure.

I have purposefully dressed in one of my favorite outfits - doing anything to keep my confidence buoyed. At the hospital I check in with the silver haired gentleman volunteer at patient registration. He directs me to the Women's Imaging Center and I enter a wonderful little world away from the sterile environs of the hospital.

A kind lady takes my info and soon leads me to an area resembling a department store's dressing room. She instructs me on how to put on my cape and asks a few more questions. As I wait briefly I notice my skirt coordinates with my cape - a little detail that for some reason brings harmony and peace. I am calm as I enter the room and am introduced to the machine.

For those of you who have been "photographed", well you know. For those of you who have not, it's really not that bad. My pictures were a success - no do-overs. I even saw each of them and she explained what things were.

Although my official results will probably not come until next week - I have declared it a smashing success!

simple faith

2007-09-11T10:48:00.000-05:00

Becoming ZITS

Sometime back, at least ten years ago, a new cartoon appeared in our local newspaper. Some of my friends loved it and declared in insightful. I did not agree with them. The cartoon featured a family of a dad, mom, and teenage son (an a college son who makes rare appearances). The teenager was lazy, clueless, and a bit sassy. The parents muttered under their breath and exchanged looks between themselves. How could this be funny? Surely my precious young children would never become such creatures.

In the course of 35 days this summer the following occured in my life: my oldest son turned 15, my youngest son turned 13, my husband and I celebrated our 20th anniversary, and I turned 40.

Over the past few years the cartoon has become more and more "meaningful" to me. I have discovered that without a sense of humor about the teenage years, you will face way too much stress and frustration. Laughter is good medicine.

So today I will freely confess, my life has become ZITS!

simple faith

2007-07-07T10:25:00.001-05:00

Another Chance

It was mid-morning on a recent Friday. My husband was at work and my boys gone until late afternoon. I finished the daily "thing to be done" and suddenly paused - I was, for all intents and purposes, caught up.

It was an odd sensation for it rarely happens. I was not quite sure my next step for the day. . .

Then she arrived. My project manager called us into a meeting. Most of my people arrived expectantly, although there are always the few who seem to come just for the sheer joy of dispensing guilt.

We all agreed the cleaning lady deserved the day off. Although there were, as always, some deep cleaning projects that needed attention, she had been so consistent during the week that things looked great. The deluge of rain falling outside pretty much left outdoor projects for another day. The baker half-heartedly offered for a day of baking goodies. The fitness trainer cleared her throat in the background - she is SO sassy!

The project manager decided it was time for a walk through. Expectations were high as we began. She quietly moved from room to room, stopping in my bedroom. As she surveyed the room her eyes stopped in the corner. An audible gasp was heard - surely she would not allow that! But allow it she did. She walked to the corner, picked up the large cardboard box and walked to the front room. Scrapbook girl had been given the nod.

My people are leary of scrapbook girl. Her record is far from shiny. In fact, the cardboard box has stood as a testament of her shortcomings for a couple of years.

It was probably the summer of 2005 when the real saga began. My boys had taken a trip with Grandparents and a cousin - a really cool trip that had allowed no parents. . .even though we asked. . .and offered to pay our way. . . . . But I digress.

The trip was in the summer of 2004. Of course it was the summer of the next year before scrapbook girl had all the pictures developed and supplies gathered to begin working. She suffers from delusional tendencies (another reason we are so leary of her) because she was certain the boys would want to help her with the project. Even though they protested greatly, she continued to believe. She spread the entire project out on the dining table. She tried to draw them in with questions - they did not budge. She began working on ideas, sharing them with the boys who continued to not be interested. And in one last moment of complete delusionality, she decided to leave the project out. Afterall, in her idealistic world, they couldn't resist for the entire summer! (Once again, do you see why we are so leary of her?)

But the boys, being boys, did resist the entire summer. And for the entire summer the project lay spread out on the dining table. School eventually began and the cleaning lady began her usual "getting the place back in shape" routine. With a heavy sigh and a roll of the eyes at scrapbook girl, she gathered up every last piece of the project and dumped it in a large cardboard box. The very cardboard box the project manager had just brought back to the dining table.

Scrapbook girl was determined to redeem herself in the eyes of my people. Over the last several months she had been buying more paper and supplies that she was sure would inspire her even more if the project was ever allowed out again. (We try to control her, but perhaps it is becoming obvious to you that is quite difficult.) She set to work immediately and, I am proud to say, has accomplished quite a bit.

She is trying very hard to be respectful of all my other people. The window cleaner, cleaning lady, cook, and myself (the all-purpose, in general, responsible adult) have all pretty much accomplished the necessesities of the week. Scrapbook girl is taking great care to not become the "I AM READING THIS BOOK" girl - she is way out of control!

And so today I applaud scrapbook girl, putting in writing her accomplishments. She is happy and sad about this knowing that news of the project is spreading throughout the land. Happy for the accolades. Sad for knowing that such knowledge also brings accountability.

She journeys onward.

simple faith

2007-07-04T08:42:00.000-05:00

I Love a Parade

Growing up in a tiny town in the southwest corner of my panhandle state, the 4th of July was a BIG deal. I have so many memories of the fun of those days.

There was always a parade. I am not sure how old I was when I began participating in it. There is a picture of me in first or second grade dressed in red, white, and blue (complete with an Uncle Sam hat made of construction paper by my Mom) riding my bike which was also decked out with red, white, and blue. And then pictures of me and friends on flat bed trailers that had been transformed in to floats that fit the theme of the year. One year in particular stands out as I was a trapeze artist for the morning on a float commemorating the circus theme - those dance costumes were always put to good use. Junior high and high school brought cheerleading floats. And one year I drove my convertible in the parade - a sign on my side reading "Miss Tiny Tot 197?" and a sign on my passenger's side reading "Miss Tiny Tot 198?" with my little sister standing in the seat and waving to the crowd. It was her day to hand over her title to the new Miss Tiny Tot.

Miss Tiny Tot? Yes, one of the many contests held at the park each year. Little girls in swimsuits walking across the stage and doing a little turn for the judges as her name was announced along with the "daughter of. . .and granddaughter of. . ." reading taking place. Before my days in tiny town were over they had also added a Mr. Muscle contest - little boys in swimsuits striking a "show me your muscles" pose as their reading was taking place. Both contests were popular with all the folks setting under the shade trees in the park enjoying their BBQ lunches they had stood in line to get.

Other contests also held old fashioned hometown fun charm. There were turtle races, frog jumping contests, greased pole climbing, and a sand pit filled with change for the finding. And of course the afternoon would not be complete without a free swim at the pool - conveniently located at the park also. For a few years we even did a swim show prior to the free swim. Coordinating swim suit clad girls doing a choreographed routine to a popular summer song. Esther Williams I was not - but it was fun!

Nightfall brought more events. During my grade school years there was a rodeo. And throughout all my years in tiny town there was a street dance. Right on Maine Street and complete with a live band on a flat bed trailer. Folks of all ages mingled that street each year. I always thought it was so cool to watch the "older crowd" dance the night away.

Our family fireworks were usually set off behind my Granny and Papa's house. The large dirt parking lot of the local cotton gin was a great place to assure little damage would be done by our fun.

Memories of such times are wonderful. I am sure time has romanticized them. I am okay with that.

I hope my own children's memories of holidays are romanticized as they become adults also.

simple faith

2007-06-29T10:50:00.000-05:00

And the rains came

My panhandle state has had the oddest weather this June. We are setting records daily as the month comes to an end - wettest June, most consecutive days of rain, etc. Even as I type my street has once again become flooded.

I like this Newsboys song on days like this:

Let it Rain

Music by Peter Furler
Lyrics by Steve Taylor & Peter Furler

a fisher of men remembers...

and I have watched in wonder
as with a word You calmed a raging sea
I have seen You make the wine from water
mud and water made a blind man see
water still reminds me of the seaside where our eyes first met

let it rain
Lord, we're waiting for Your rain to fall
let it rain
bringing back the wonder of it all
and I can see Your face again
when You let it rain

and I've been bathed in mercy
by every gesture, every word You've said
once I spoke of power and high position
you took a towel and washed my feet instead
water, like a promise
heaven opens, but I'm not there yet

let it rain...

I've been foolish
thought I knew it all
three times I denied Your name
Your forgiveness, like a waterfall
washes away my shame

a new dawn is breaking
another hour, and then I leave this place
I am ready, Lord, to give my life up
I'm so ready, Lord, to see Your face
water, like a promise
and in this final hour, I think my final prayer shall be
would You let it rain?
let Your Spirit fall afresh on me

let it rain...

Just seeking the wonder of it all.

simple faith

2007-06-27T08:24:00.000-05:00

Someone Else's Dream

For weeks now that phrase has rolled around in my head.

We seem to have spent a lot of time on the road the past few months. The phrase first formed while pondering old barns and homesteads that we past. They were abandoned and slowly falling apart. There is a unique beauty in them as they sit serenely in the countryside.

The thought came to me one day that they are, in fact, someone else's dream. They represent a time and way of life that is passing. The new generation needs/wants bigger barns and homes. That change has left abandoned barns and homesteads to dot the landscape. Silent reminders of another generation's dreams.

Recently we spent several hours on the road traveling to and from the Rocky Mountain High State. Again the phrase rolled through my mind as the landscape was dotted with old barns and homesteads. Then suddenly, the phrase took on an unexpected meaning.

My mind wandered to my own life and my chosen path. I am sure the turn in thinking had to do, in part, to a couple of books I have been reading. But the phrase became a question - "Am I living my own dream, or someone else's?"

I have been very purposeful about my chosen path. It has not always been easy to walk. I have spent much time this past year evaluating that choice.

I have had the blessing of stepping into temporary jobs that have given me the opportunity to "try on" that path. It set me to much pondering and brought me to the conclusion that, for now, this path I am on is best. This path is allowing me to live my dreams.

I firmly believe that we must often evaluate our path and ask the question, "Is this someone else's dream, or mine?"

simple faith

2007-06-25T17:00:00.000-05:00

Marching On . . .

Wow! Time has definitely been marching on and I have not been to this keyboard in ages. Much is rolling around in my head, but nothing has made its way to any written form. That must change.

But for today, I will post a poem I wrote earlier this year. It is a tribute to the women who have made me possible - great grandmothers, grandmothers, and my mom.

Weaving Me

She was red hair flowing as on horseback she raced the locomotive.
She was ball gowns and costume jewelry.
She was the song, “Chantilly Lace”
And painted nails.
She was beautiful.

She was black braids as she rode through grass tall as her pony.
She was the wedding picture and a mother.
She was men’s work clothes
And a six holster.
She was beautiful.

She was independent and strong as she journeyed purposefully through life.
She was bowling and bingo
And cornbread dressing with sage.
She was shorts and painted nails.
She was beautiful.

She is quiet and accepting as life flows around her.
She is country music and classic western TV
And apricot fried pies.
She is weathered and aging.
She is beautiful.

She is wisdom and encouragement.
She is roller coasters and travel and books.
She is the wind that allows dreams to soar.
She is the scent of the tropics and painted nails.
She is beautiful.

simple faith

2007-04-16T21:51:00.000-05:00

Who's Asking?

A couple of weeks ago my 14 year-old son was having a bad day. He was more than a bit out of sorts. The results of this type of day and the impaired workings of a male teenage mind left him with a broken hand.

It has been painful for him to explain to adults exactly what happened. But to make a point - he is the one who always has the explaining to do to anyone inquiring about his hand.

"What happened to your hand?"

"I got mad and hit the floor."

"What were you mad about?"

"I was mad at my mom."

Yes, sad but true.

Every time this conversation has happened, it has been a bit of an embarrassment for my son. But today the conversation was different.

We are entering the ballpark for my youngest son's baseball game. . .

"What did you hit?"

"What?"

"What did you hit?"

"Oh, the floor."

The question comes from a local high school football player/wrestler who is greatly admired by all athletic teen boys - he is also recovering from the same type of injury. Well, actually he took on a cement wall.

My 14 year old is suddenly walking lightly. I am not sure I am thrilled by the exchange. . .

My youngest son pitched the last inning. His older brother declared one of his pitches "sick" - that is a really good thing for those of you who don't speak cool teen slang.

His dad and I thought it was too!

simple faith

2007-04-15T15:36:00.000-05:00

Tiger Years

It was early Friday morning. We had ventured out in the cold downpour to my last "Muffins with Mom" event at Tiger Elementary. Sitting with me were my 12 year old sixth grader and my 14 year old Tiger alumni.

At some point I realized that this was my last time to experience this. I was not sad, but I was wondering what my youngest son was thinking. . .

"Wow, can you believe you are about done with all of this?"

I won't record exactly what he said, but suffice it to say that he is done with elementary school.

My older son offered his two cents - he had been done with elementary school by that point in his sixth grade career also.

I smiled and noted to them that life is that way. When it is time for you to move on, you are ready for it. It is just the way the journey goes.

They will both be Irish next year. We are ready for it.

But I am sure there will be a few tears shed the last few weeks of our Tiger years.

simple faith

2007-04-07T09:19:00.000-05:00

Good Friday

Palm Sunday has come and gone. Lent has been lamented. Maundy Thursday was spent on the ballfield in the cold rain. And then Friday came.

I have never really understood why we call it Good Friday. But however the Holy Day received its name, we observe it at our church.

The service takes on many forms - but they are always somber. This year included communion, scripture, song, poetry, music and a homily all woven together to lead us in a time of quiet reflection. It was beautiful and poignant.

No matter how the service is planned, the ending is always the same.

We have a free-standing wooden cross outside of our building. It was placed there early in our existance. Encircled in rocks and always surrounded by beautiful plantings it is the wonderful mix of beauty and roughness.

Just as we mark time in our sanctuary by changing the colors to reflect the Christian calendar, we also change the colors on our cross outside. Red, purple, white and green are the most often seen colors. But after our services on Good Friday it is always changed to black.

The congregation leaves the sanctuary in silence. We gather just outside our door or in the foyer to watch the changing. Our pastor and our children and youth journey to the cross. The red cloth is removed and the black is draped. Hugs and quiet small talk are exchanged as our church family departs.

It is one of those traditions that is leaving an impression on my boys.

My 14 year-old has reached the "when I grow up I will not make my kids (fill in the blank)" stage. Last night it was "attend a Good Friday service." But as the service ended both of my boys were up out of their seats and on their way to the cross with our pastor. No complaining. No hesitating. They were participating in the journey.

My prayer is that they will always participate in the journey laid out for them.

simple faith

2007-04-04T21:32:00.000-05:00

Lamenting Lent

35, 36, 37. . . .yes, Holy Week days are included in Lent - dang! I was hoping it ended at some point midweek.

That is, unfortunately, how my Lent is going this year. Some things have been really great. It's not like my journey has been stagnant. It's just that what I gave up this year has been surprisingly difficult to sacrifice.

It's not very Baptist of me - to observe Lent or to give up wine - but, that's what I did. Not just any wine. Oh no, I gave up the other drink (besides coffee) that I refer to as the "Nectar of the gods" - red wine.

The first few weeks were not too bad. But the last couple have been much more challenging. And this week - well I am pretty convinced that absolutely no one who has teenagers should ever ponder giving up alcohol during Lent!

See, there I go again. Exagerating my sacrifice - I can have any drink I care for, except red wine. The issue is the value I have placed on this particular beverage. It is for me a treat. An occasional glass allows me a sense of pleasure. Kind of like my morning coffee. A deep breath, a sip - it soothes my soul.

Coffee. . .that was a Lent journey that also proved difficult during the final week. Perhaps it is because we see the end in sight. Easter is just a few days away. But this week was very difficult for Jesus. Friday comes before Sunday.

Perhaps this journey is on course afterall.

simple faith

2007-03-31T10:00:00.000-05:00

March Sadness

Usually March finds me walking down the block to POLO house, wearing Cowboy orange and carrying an ice chest. No matter what time of day the games came on, their was always a crowd gathering for March Madness. Often we were cheering for our beloved Cowboys or another conference team.

But this year has been different.

Watching Cowboy basketball during the last half of the season was like watching a train wreck in slow motion. You were horrified at the sight of the wreck in progress. But yet you watched with a glimmer of hope - wishing for a miracle that would make the outcome different. But, alas, the outcome was as you feared. No Big Dance invitation and a first round defeat in the NIT.

I am sad.

Other changes have also occurred that have made this March sad. Several of the fans have gone to work at real jobs and are no longer as free to gather on weekday afternoons for the festivities. And our weekends have been scattered with other obligations.

I miss the madness.

But today, I will don my newly purchased Georgetown t-shirt and become a Hoya fan.

I can't completely go without the madness!

simple faith

2007-03-28T08:20:00.000-05:00

A Time Thing

As usual, it is either feast or famine in our schedules. The past several weeks have been feast weeks. We recently returned from a trip to our Nation's Capital. It was thought provoking and wonderful - there will be more about this in coming days.

But for now, let's get back to Lent. Yes, I know, it's almost over!

As I have said, sometimes I observe Lent and sometimes I do not. Last year I sorta' just fell in to it.

Looking back, I am not sure exactly what all was going on that led me to be so obsessed with time management. Perhaps I was just having a "Golden Spell" or maybe I was just wrapped in to a daily mantra of "If I can organize it, I can achieve it!" Whatever the case, I was literally getting up and putting my watch on first thing in the morning.

Seriously scary - running around in jammies, constantly checking my watch to see if everyone was on schedule, fretting over lost minutes. It was nuts!!! And yes, there is a clock in practically every room of our home. But for some reason that did not matter. I was depending on my watch to order my day.

Observing Lent was not really on my radar. But then my watch stopped working. I am sure the batteries were dead, as were the batteries in my back-up watch. For some reason, I did the unthinkable - I simply chose not to replace them.

At first it was weird - nothing on my wrist to give me a false sense of controlling my time. I, literally, had to repeat the line all my Orange friends who refuse to wear watches use - "There are clocks everywhere in the world."

And without realizing it, God was beginning my Lenten journey. Without a watch to guard my time, my pace slowed and my eyes began to observe more things around me. I did not feel like I accomplished less. In fact I always seemed to accomplish what needed to be done. I accomplished the necessary and I enjoyed the journey. One of my new catch phrases became, "It is not the destination, it is the journey."

Through it all I also began learning the true meaning of the following verse:

"Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom."
Psalm 90:12

I had tried to number my days according to my wisdom - schedules, deadlines, "boxes" - but that was not what I needed. I needed to be teachable. I needed to recognize God's order and honor Him as the one who truly guards my time.

And today, my watches are still without working batteries.

simple faith

2007-03-16T10:31:00.001-05:00

Human Touch

Well, it is obvious that the last couple of weeks have been hectic - not much time for blogging. Too many projects and deadlines to spend much time being creative in this venue. But last Friday night was a welcomed break from the pace.

I had been looking forward to it for a couple of weeks. The radio advertising had worked. A girl listening to classic rock - an advertisement for a Rick Springfield concert - a trip down memory lane. . . . .

In our early years of dating, Rick Springfield always came to Sooner Town during my birthday month. My then 5'9" and oh-so-fine boyfriend (my now 5'9" and oh so fine husband) would take me to the concert and dinner as my birthday gift.

Upon hearing the announcement on the radio, I began pondering ways I could make attending the concert a reality in my life. I needed a partner in crime to completely convince my husband that it was worth the trip to Sooner Town during the middle of a hectic schedule. I had the perfect partner in mind - she was my kinda' girl - a former "Jesse's Girl"!

I phoned my sister-in-law, Wog. Have you heard? Do you think? She was in on the scheme.

A few phone calls later, we have tickets reserved and are both singing Rick's songs and dancing down memory lane (sigh).

The big night comes. We all arrive (sans kids) to the casino and the 1500 seat theater where the concert is happening. The casino is new and pretty - so new it has not yet obtained it's alcohol and liquor license. Bummer because I was looking forward to an Amaretto Sour.

We take our seats. Our row is filled with conversations of how young we all are and stories of trying to share our excitement of attending this concert with people who are way younger than us and have the audacity to say "Who?". Some of these younger people did not even know "Jesse's Girl"!!!

The concert soon begins. The music is good and Rick looks great! While singing "Don't Talk to Strangers" he pulls a little girl (probably 4 or 5) on to the stage. She is holding a "Rick taught me - Don't Talk to Strangers" sign and wearing a "Rick Rocks" t-shirt. Her mom was obviously a "Jesse's Girl" too!

And then it happens. Rick puts on a cordless mic and begins working his way through the crowd while singing "Human Touch". We are seated in the second section. I am convinced he will never come back that far. But he continues to work his way toward us.

I turn to Wog and ask her to warn her husband that he best move out of our way quickly if Rick comes to our section. And he continues to work his way toward us.

I turn to say, "Let's go!" but Wog has already grabbed me and we are up on the chairs, running across them in our high heeled boots. Somehow, amazingly, we make it to him as he perches himself on the wall separating the two sections. He touches Wog's hand, along with just a few others! We are in the midst of the crowd surrounding him and I dare not look at the big screens for fear that we are on them - not usually a pretty site.

Wog trades me spots. Rick smiles at me - well, maybe it was at all of us - and gives us a questioning look. He then turns. . .falls back on us. . . and my hand touches his shoulder!! GASP! I have never been that close to the main attraction of a concert. . .and he looked good.

He works his way back to the stage and finishes the concert. Wog and I are back in our seats, next to the real men in our lives. . .and they look good.

After the concert we are laughing as we leave. I am not sure our guys would have ever thought they would see their 40ish wives dashing across chairs to touch Rick Springfield.

I guess we still are "Jesse's Girls" afterall.

simple faith

2007-03-02T10:19:00.000-06:00

The Official Weigh-In

About four and one-half years ago our super cool black cat brought home a kitten. It was a beautiful, long-haired, white kitten with black and carmel markings. He was tiny and new.

My husband takes one look at the kitty and proclaims to us all, "Nobody feed that kitten. We are not having another cat in this family!" And then he takes the youngest son and leaves for a sports practice.

The oldest son and I carry this tiny kitten through our neighborhood. Something this new was surely missed by someone. Absolutely no one claims the kitty - in fact one lady practically runs us out of her yard. So we carry the beautiful, tiny kitten back to our house. We do not feed or water it for we are always obedient (haha).

The youngest son and husband return from practice and take note that the kitten is still there. We tell our story of searching for its home. My husband takes out two bowls. He fills one with water and the other with food. The kitten has a new home and he is called Carmel.

At Carmel's first trip to the vet and official weigh-in he is a trim 10.20 pounds. Everyone says how beautiful he is.

At Carmel's next trip to the vet and official weigh-in he is growing and comes in at 15.70 pounds. The Vet Doctor comments on his weight, but is not concerned. Everyone says how beautiful and big he is.

At Carmel's next trip to the vet and official weigh-in he has become a big boy and comes in at 18.50 pounds. The Vet Doctor asks how much he eats and expresses some concern. Everyone says how big and beautiful he is.

At Carmel's trip to the vet and official weigh-in today he has become a fat cat and comes in at 20.30 pounds! The Vet Doctor asks how much he eats and puts him on a diet. Everyone says how big and beautiful he is.

simple faith

2007-03-01T08:00:00.000-06:00

Proud Day

It was Sunday night and all four of us were in the van together. I had insisted that the radio be left on one of my stations - this particular one a classic rock station. Our boys were not thrilled. They prefer rap to our rock.

But then it happened. Lynyrd Skynyrd's "Free Bird" began to play and our boys wanted the radio louder. Then they wanted to sit in the van and listen to the entire song. Knowing how long the entire song is, I told them to turn on the oldest son's radio in his room - I have it set to that station for my own listening purposes. And they did! They came in and listened to the song, discussing the guitar work with fascination.

Now for the "rest of the story." They know this song from a video game called "Guitar Hero." Game Boy has it and he has brought it to our house. I guess I will have to concede that particular game has some merit to it!

Of course, they complained about Boston the other night at dinner. They have not completely seen the light!!

simple faith

2007-02-27T23:26:00.000-06:00

The Seamstress

My seamstress showed up yesterday. She didn't really have a choice. My project planner and organizer teamed up against her last week. They were determined to get some of the stacks off the bedroom floor.

Their method is vicious - they move things to obvious places and it forces everyone into action. Bags to be delivered to the thrift store and bags to go to the resale shop were set by the door - you basically had to walk around them to get out of the house. And on Friday they moved the mending stack and the sewing project to the kitchen. They even had the nerve to get out the sewing machine and all the goodies needed for projects!

I was able to manuever around them for the weekend, but on Monday morning my seamstress showed up. She managed to get the mending done before lunch. After lunch the real work began.

The project should be simple - just some valances for a couple of bedroom windows. She set up the machine, got out the fabric, and searched for the paper with all the measurements written on it. One look at the paper reminded her why she had been avoiding this project. There was no pattern to follow, only her own ideas and lots of numbers resembling a math word problem. She hates math word problems!!

Another issue came to mind - she was going this project alone. No Mom to help. No Q to help. Not even Real Soprano was there to double check the figures and give assurance that all would be well. There was a huge possibility of failure and she was hesitant to begin.

The life coach stepped in and gave her the "what's the worse thing that could happen?" speech. After recalculating, measuring , and praying the first cutting began.

As I said, the project should be simple. Well, except for the fact that the valances needed lined. That part of the project provided challenges for the seamstress.

Of course, she began with the valance that had almost 6 yards of fabric - we would hate to begin with the smaller one that would be much easier to fix if anything went wrong. And go wrong, it did.

My youngest son asked her how many times she was going to say "crap" while he was helping her at a critical point in the project. I was proud of her when she muttered "sorry". Sometimes my seamstress is the kind of girl that would reply, "As many times as I want to, buddy!"

After the problem was discovered and solved, in no short amount of time, it was quite literally time for bed.

My seamstress showed up again today - she had to finish the project.

simple faith

2007-02-26T08:02:00.000-06:00

Another Try

Eventually I felt led to observe Lent again. I chose to give up something that I had daily contact with and that, to me, was a reminder of Christ's sacrifice. Once again, I decided to journey alone and not tell anyone.

So each morning I arose and did what I do every morning - I made coffee. And as the coffee finished brewing I did what I do every morning - I delivered a cup to my husband. The only difference during the Lent season that year was that I did not drink coffee myself.

Now please keep in mind that coffee is one of two things I jokingly call "the nectar of the gods." I enjoy the taste of it very much - I take mine black. It is rare that I fancy it up with sugar or creamer. And as much as I like the taste of it, the smell of coffee brewing is even more pleasing to my senses. It invokes feelings of comfort and a sense of home no matter what time of day I encounter it.

So each morning I brought myself face to face with something I desired. Each morning I began to learn that my true desire should be the prescence of my Father. Each morning of that Lenten season my prayer became, "Father, make my life a pleasing and fragrant offering to you."

To date, it stands as the most significant Lent journey I have taken. And on occasion brewing coffee still brings to mind the lessons learned.

simple faith

2007-02-22T08:02:00.000-06:00

First Time

I can only imagine what our Pastor must have thought the first time he realized that following the Christian calendar meant leading a group of mostly Baptist through Lent. I do recall him saying that he thought about it for quite some time before making a decision. So, leading us to the Lenten season, he suggested we observe it by taking on a new spiritual discipline in our life for the 40 days.

And being myself at that time, I began a mental review of what I considered spiritual disciplines. One seemed to stand out to me. It was something I was not in the habit of practicing, it required a sacrifice on my part, and it seemed very pious - I would take up the practice of fasting once a week!

I heard the audible gasp from a couple of you. You are the ones who know I am hypoglycemic and what a lack of good food can do to me. For those of you who do not know, it goes something like this: my blood sugar bottoms out and I get symptoms which range from a mild headache and slight irritability to becoming, well - to quote Barbara Bush. . . ."I can't really say what she is, but it rhymes with witch."

I know, it was a really dumb choice. But at the time I was only thinking of what I could do to show my willingness to sacrifice to honor Christ's sacrifice. This choice seemed noble and, as I said earlier, very pious.

I chose Tuesdays because my husband was out of town on Tuesdays and lunch would not be an issue. I knew enough to follow the eat dinner and then fast to the next dinner approach. I was very literal with my interpretation of fasting and decided only water would be appropriate to consume during the fasting time.

Somehow we survived the first Tuesday. My boys were young and quite frankly it was a miracle because as I try to recall how it worked, I cannot. Then came the next Tuesday. About mid-morning snack time, as I popped something in my mouth, I realized that I had failed to live up to my expectations. I had forgotten to observe Lent!!! How could I be so callous and ungrateful?

I regrouped and told myself next week would be better. The only problem was that the next week I also forgot. My first venture in to Lent and I had failed miserably.

It would be a couple of years before I would attempt the Lent thing again. And it would be several more years before I figured out what my real failure was during that first attempt. The real purpose of the Lent journey is to turn our focus to Christ and His ultimate sacrifice for our redemption. My focus had been on me and what I could sacrifice to prove that I was remembering His sacrifice.

Wow! Silly girl. . . .

simple faith

2007-02-21T09:37:00.000-06:00

Ash Wednesday

The official beginning of Lent. Some of my friends' churches actually hold Ash Wednesday Services. I have never been to one - I always wonder if at some point my Pastor is going to add one to our observances. We have saved the palm branches from Palm Sunday the past few years - just in case we do decide to observe this day. (The ashes used in most services traditionally come from burning the palm branches of the previous year's Palm Sunday processional.)

I have actually made the mistake of telling someone they had something on their forehead on Ash Wednesday. That's a guaranteed way to look ignorant to the Lenten season!! Especially if their response is, "It's Ash Wednesday" and your response is a somewhat failed attempt at looking as if you suddenly understand what in the world they are talking about.

I am told the Ash Wednesday Services are somber services meant to lead the worshipers in to an observance of mourning, self reflection, and the practice of self-denial. Of course this is to remind us of the sacrifices of Christ and to take our focus off ourselves.

So today, for me, begins a process of pondering all of this and more. I would really rather just skip to Easter. But I do understand the importance of taking time to ponder the sacrifice.

simple faith

2007-02-20T10:03:00.000-06:00

Fat Tuesday

In my early twenties I heard a restaurant advertising "Fat Tuesday Specials" and had no idea what they were talking about. Basically it was translated as a really big party featuring lots of Cajun food held on one Tuesday a year. I still did not connect it with Lent, but knew it had to do with Mardi Gras.

Prior to that, a fat Tuesday just had to do with my female hormones!!

At my home, we are not religious about celebrating Fat Tuesday. Sometimes I use it as a good excuse to cook some yummy food and other times it passes by unnoticed.

This year, we are celebrating with a little old and a little new. I refer to my meal as a shrimp boil, but it is actually frogmore stew. I would serve jambalya, but my youngest son refuses to eat it. So instead, it is a shrimp boil that I will correctly call frogmore stew - that should give them something to think about!

I am also going to attempt a King Cake. My trusty Southern Living magazine has opened many a Southern door to my understanding. The following explains much to my novice attempts of celebrating:

"Trademark decoration - sugars in the royal colors of purple (justice), green (faith), and gold (power) - honor the three kings who visited the Christ child on Epiphany, the 12th day after Christmas. Also known as King's Day, it marks the start of merrymaking that continues until the grand finale on Fat Tuesday, the day before Ash Wednesday."

Ok, so King Cake is probably meant for January 6th, but in our home it's happening today. Like I said, I am trying to get this season figured out.

I have decided that I will wear a bright green t-shirt today - it only seems appropriate. But I will forego the beads. . .

simple faith

2007-02-19T17:15:00.000-06:00

Mardi Gras

Not many people I knew growing up in my tiny town in the southwest corner of my panhandle state celebrated Mardi Gras. I recall knowing it existed and that New Orleans was the place to be. The fact that it was a time of celebration prior Lent was not something I conceived - and I'm not sure I would have understood it had someone tried to explain it to me. Afterall, I was unaware of the Christian calendar and the significance it had for marking time or what Lent even was.

What I did know about Mardi Gras was that it was woven in with the romanticism and mystery that surrounded New Orleans. My Mom had passed on her romantic ideas about the French Quarter, Cafe' Beaumond, and large Southern homes. My romanticism was even heightened by my own reading of Desiree' - a story of Napoleon's first fiancee' and by far the largest book I read in high school. (All things French, you know.) And we can never discount the impact of Gone With the Wind for romanticizing the South for me.

But being a bit on the Baptist side, I also associated it with debauchery. And my Methodist side, well most my Methodist friends wouldn't pass up a good party!!

I have not ever traveled to New Orleans nor have I ever really celebrated Mardi Gras. I have learned that it is celebrated all over - for some reason I thought only New Orleans had it. . . but no, I have picked up beads while snow skiing in New Mexico on President's Day weekend.

A time to celebrate before a time of sacrifice . . . that seems reasonable to me.

simple faith

2007-02-18T13:40:00.000-06:00

Marking Time

Our small church began about 8 1/2 years ago as a group of believers who came together convinced that church really could and should be done differently. We were an interesting mix of people,each carrying their own baggage and seeking somewhat the same goals. It has been an incredible journey.

We had the challenge of making decisions for all sorts of things, big and small. What time would our classes and services start? What was our belief statement? How do we accept members? Baptism practices? It was the first time in my life I had to actually sit down and ask myself what I truly believed and why I truly believed it. As I said - it was a challenge.

It was also our Pastor's first job of pastoring a church. He made a choice for our congregation to observe the Christian calendar and follow the Lexcionary for scripture study. This was not a very Baptist decision, but it opened up a new way of marking time in my life.

I would be fooling you if I even tried to say I understood what all the seasons of the Christian calendar represent. As you will see, I am still learning on my journey.

So, today is the "Last Sunday after the Epiphany." Basically that means we have been marking Sundays after the Epiphany (January 6) and that we are about to move in to the season of Lent.

My tiny town in the southwestern part of my panhandle state did not have a Catholic church, although there was one in my husband's metropolis about 14 miles away. The word Lent was not a part of my vocabulary until I was an adult - well, that is if you don't count lint. . .

Learning to experience Lent has been at times comical, at times frustrating, and at times a really cool spiritual season in my life.

But first, we must make it through the next few days. . .

simple faith

2007-02-17T21:55:00.000-06:00

Being Bathodist

Growing up in a tiny town in the southwest corner of my panhandle state provided an interesting mixture of religion for me.

My Dad's family was Baptist and my Mom's family was Methodist. In my very early years I attended the Baptist church with my Granny. Sometime during grade school my Mom returned to church and I attended the Methodist church with her. In junior high I went back to the Baptist church - attending where most of my friends attended and where the "good" youth group was.

I once stated that paragraph to my pastor. He looked at me and immediately said, "Wow, you must have really dealt with a lot of guilt!" I had never thought about it in those terms, but he was so right.

My Methodist roots and family practices allowed me much more freedom than my Baptist church taught. I could never get my mind around why dancing and drinking were going to condemn me to hell, but I can assure you that I was taught to believe that way.

The conflicts of my two religious bases were many. Confirmation vs. Salvation Experience. Sprinkling vs. Dunking. Open Thinking vs. Rules, Rules, and more Rules. It put me on a religious and emotional roller coaster and it took me years to get off.

And I have journeyed to where I am today. Bathodist. No, you won't find that in any official listing of world religions, but you will find it if you sit in a pew next to me some Sunday morning at my little church in my small city on the plains of my panhandle state.

Seriously. Some people say we are too Baptist. Other people say we are too Methodist. And yet others say we are just right. Definitely not for everyone, but definitely best for me.

I share this with you to give you a backdrop for the coming weeks. Tomorrow is officially "The Last Sunday after the Epiphany" at our church. (Stay tuned for further explaination, because if you grew up like I did you have no earthly idea what I am talking about!!)

Journey on my series of discoveries - perhaps you can enlighten me!

simple faith

2007-02-09T13:54:00.000-06:00

Life

I was in a meeting with my project manager. It is the end of week six of the year and I am behind schedule.

I was trying to persuade her that we had been overly ambitious with our schedule. Perhaps it would be good to rethink it and come up with a more realistic looking timeline.

My life coach decides to pop in to the meeting. She has been making her prescence known a lot the last few days. She is a good life coach. Generally encouraging, but often very direct and at times a bit on the sassy side.

She begins to express concern about how I choose to spend my time. Insinuating that perhaps I am not using it as wisely as possible.

Often times her directness and accuracy do not sit well with me. I tell her she is getting a bit "too big for her britches".

She retaliates with "the pot calling the kettle black".

Obviously she has been visiting with my personal trainer. . .

simple faith

2007-02-07T14:53:00.000-06:00

Super Bowl Sassiness

I noticed I have commented a few times over the last couple of weeks that my Bears were winning. I am sorry to have to report that the Super Bowl was a different story. Although they provided some excitement during the first half, they came up short.

But. . . .THANK GOODNESS Peyton Manning finally won a Super Bowl ring. I mean, I was beginning to lose sleep at night worrying about his apparent devine destiny not being fulfilled. What would have been right with the world had he not ever achieved this crowning (or shall we say ringing) glory?

Actually, I hope he makes it to another Super Bowl. . . I want to see what story line the media would come up with next.

What did make me happy - Charlie Johnson (74) rookie from my alma mater started the second half for the Colts and played very well. He is now the proud owner of a Super Bowl ring.

Now THAT is a good story!

simple faith

2007-02-07T08:34:00.000-06:00

Marathon

We were having lunch at the kitchen table when we spotted her coming down the street. Dressed in bright running clothes, it was Marathon Trainer heading back towards her house. She is a neighborhood mom who is one of those freakishly fit people. She teaches all sorts of classes at the local Y and her most recent endeavor is leading a group of people to train for an upcoming marathon.

She is, needless to say, in incredible shape. She, like others I know who look really great, works really hard at it. I admire her greatly - and I realize that she has something in her make-up that I do not possess.

Me: "You know, there is absolutely nothing within me that has ever remotely considered running a marathon."

Husband: "Really?!?!"

He is being just a tad bit sarcastic.

I ponder for a few minutes.

Me: "Actually, I can only think of three ways I would use that word. Marathon candy bar. Marathon movie night. Marathon shopping."

Husband: He laughs, shakes his head and goes in to some explanation of hitting a wall and being able to push through and how it feels on the other side.

I listen, trying to capture the fascination of running.

I do recall running a few years ago with some friends who were runners. Hitting the wall and pushing through meant I made it home without tossing my cookies in a neighbor's front yard. I can say with 100% certainty that I did not experience any euphoric feeling during that tortuous morning or for several days afterwards.

And then a light of connection came to me.

It must be similar to that feeling you have when you have been shopping for a new pair of jeans or a new swimsuit. You have spent hours in the mall trying on things. You are just about to give up and then something fits and looks really great (or even if it just finally looks okay) and is reasonably priced. Your spirits are lifted and you "catch your second wind". You begin to believe you can persevere for hours more, searching for that perfect pair of boots or sandals.

Yeah, it must be something like that!

simple faith

2007-02-01T10:46:00.000-06:00

Good Help - it IS hard to find

My housekeeper finally showed up yesterday. It's been a few weeks since she has done any serious dusting or vacuuming. Don't get me wrong, she is very faithful at showing up on Mondays to launder the bedding and at some point during the week to clean the bathrooms, but sometimes she is a coin toss on the other chores. She even mopped the kitchen floor - otherwise known as an exercise in futility.

I really wish my seamstress had showed up last month. I have some projects taking up space in my bedroom that are in need of her attention!

simple faith

2007-01-24T13:52:00.000-06:00

Winter Weather - Round Three

Friday Evening - A snowy icey mixture continues to cover the ground and streets. Snow is in the forecast for tonight and all day tomorrow. The phone call comes that cancels my youngest son's basketball game for tomorrow. My calendar is showing several PPD/weather entries.

Saturday Afternoon - It has been snowing all morning. The fun stuff - big, white, fluffy flakes that make you want to "stand(ing) outside with your mouth open wide", just like you are a kid again! (Who can sing that Barney song with me?) My husband, Miss Congeniality, and myself take five boys and three girls to the neighborhood sledding hills. It is still snowing and they are having fun, fun, fun - Nix is involved in a rather large crash, but is soon sledding again. We adults were properly concerned, but didn't think much of it as he flew down the hill over and over with the others.

Saturday Evening - After delivering everybody home, we settle in for a quiet evening. It continues to snow through the middle of the night.

Sunday Afternoon - After church my husband goes to be a Good Samaritan. I round up some boys and we are off to the hills for sledding. It is no longer snowing, but we have accumulated several inches. Nix has been called to join us, but hasn't shown up yet.

I am, literally, the only adult around. I have traipsed across a small bridge to the hills where the boys are sledding and begin trying to capture the fun on film. I am beginning to think I am crazy for thinking I need to hang out here - the boys are probably old enough to be here by themselves; although it's not really close to the house, it's really not that far either; other kids their age are without an adult; the Bears game has started. . . .

And then GameBoy speaks. "If you pay me $20 I will ride down that drainage culvert on this snow board." Yeh, I'm stayin' . . . .

I have retreated to the car to read when my phone rings. Miss Congeniality is with Nix and his mom. His hand is in a splint. He broke it yesterday. Yes, while he was sledding with us. Thank goodness Nix's mom is my type of girl. Actually, thank goodness most of my boys' friends' parents are like us - no really high maintainance allowed!

Sunday Evening - The Bears have won - hooray!!! I actually was able to watch the second half. It was a good day.

School will be in session Monday - what a great snow weekend.

simple faith

2007-01-17T20:29:00.000-06:00

Winter Weather - Round Two

Thursday
Noon - I am on my way to a board meeting wearing a light weight sweater, t-shirt, and jeans. If the wind were not blowing out of the South at an ungodly mph, I would be overdressed. It is 70 degrees!

Every weatherman in the state is justifying their predictions. Each assures me that, yes, the winter storm is really coming.

I have dutifully gone to the grocery store to stock up - along with 40,000 of my closest friends.

Friday
9:30am - I am out doing the errands for the office. It is very cold with a North wind blowing fiercely. After finishing at the office, I trek to Staples, the grocery store (yet again - I would hate to be without everything), and to Braum's for milk (yes, it really is that good).

Conditions are deteorating rapidly. I call Miss Congeniality to make sure the school will let me pick up M early. I plan to get a mailing together and do the school pick up before I have to fight the others in this mess.

12:30pm - Youngest son calls to see if he can get checked out by a friend's dad. No, I will pick you up a little early - tell M.

2:20pm - Something, a snowy icey mix, continues to fall. I try to pick up kids early - they are in an assembly (what I get for not checking the calendar). While leaving I must negotiate around the bus and other cars that have now blocked me in.

4:00ish pm - Oldest son has arrived home - the begging begins. Can someone. . . .can we???? My husband is out doing PR during the big farm show weekend. It's just me and the boys. I suggest we bake cookies before doing pizzas and a game. The 12 year old is very sassy about this. Little Red Hen Rule is invoked. Twelve year old's attitude changes - he helps bake cookies.

Evening - Cookies, hot chocolate, pizzas, Scrabble. Fun is had by all - well the 14 year old was having fun until he began losing.

Saturday
Morning -Husband continues the farm show - the weather is not good at all. My boys are invited to go watch the Cowboys game with friends. Sure - have fun!

Afternoon - Cowboys game is postponed. Can we go to watch it later tonight? No. The badgering begins. I cave (and I do not know why they badger so).

Evening - Quiet dinner with just my husband and I. No one gets to see the Cowboys play - they cannot get out of the state because of the weather. That is okay with me. No Cowboy fan really wants to see our basketball team on a flight in bad weather.

Three of us play Skip-bo. Luck runs my way. My husband pouts. Hot chocolate and cookies help their pain!

Sunday
Morning - Our church services are cancelled. We sleep late, eat a really big breakfast, and 3 three of us watch a movie (it does not fit the 12 year old's taste - no rude humor or anything blowing up).

Noon - My Bears play at noon. I am still wearing my flannel jammies and my new pink fur coat (well, maybe it is just a bathrobe, but it feels like a fur coat). I will remain this way for the entire afternoon. It is completely sinful - especially while having a second half snack of beer and chips. Something is not right with this picture. . . .

Evening - Red spends the night because these boys have simply not seen enough of each other the past 2 days. We attempt to play the 20th Anniversary Edition of Trivia Pursuit. Attempt is a really good word to use.

Football notes: The Bears won! Will someone please make Bill Belnichek (Patriots) and his staff dress properly on the sidelines?!?! I cannot decide if they want to be extras in a Rocky movie or are really big fans of Flashdance!

Monday
Morning - Normal day for my husband and myself. The boys are out of school. The youngest was planned, but the older son should have been in class making up a lost day. Something, a snowy icey mix, has fallen all weekend and is covering the ground. It is slick and will only be getting slicker over the next few days.

Afternoon - Miss Congeniality and I take the boys and a friend bowling. We have first hand word that school will be open tomorrow. The boys are not happy.

Late Afternoon - Boys are sledding down the street. I have kicked them off the busiest road and they are catapulting down a neighbor's yard and on to another street. One quick check and I see my youngest son sledding bare chested. I walk out, trying to decide if I am going to skate my way down the street or just be that weird neighbor lady who stands at the corner and yells at kids down the street. Luckily he dons his clothes. Next check finds a vehicle trying to stop as the boys go careening into the street. Fun's over. Time to come in.

Evening - We try to get back in to a school routine. Not an easy task with so many other cancellations scrolling across the TV screen. Note to those from the SW corner of my panhandle state: the TV was reporting that Korn Bible Academy was closed - didn't take long to get that corrected!

Tuesday
6:45am - Fourteen year-old is insisting on watching school closings scroll across the TV screen. Trust me, we are having school! The world through his mathmatically inclinded 14 year old brain on Tuesday morning:

(cousins are out of school) + (school I am supposed to play basketball against this afternoon is out of school) + (I am going to school) = total and complete injustice!

Wednesday
Evening - I am posting - a very long post. My driveway and yard are like an ice skating rink and snow is predicted to begin falling on Friday. I am going to make my grocery list.

I hope at least some of my 40,000 closest friends have already been to the store!

simple faith

2006-12-19T20:16:00.000-06:00

"Grace"

At least I looked like a mom trying to stay fashionable. I was wearing a cute jean skirt, a trendy jacket and my tall brown boots. I had dropped off some things at the school office and was visiting with the principal at the bottom of the stairs. We were standing beside the two lines of junior high students waiting to go outside after finishing lunch.

Upon completing my conversation, I excused myself through the line and headed toward the doors - only a few feet away. As I am walking forward I notice several of my son's friends at the front of the lines. One greets me, I smile and return the greeting . . . . . .

Have I ever told you about me taking dance lessons? I took them for several years. The family joke is that my mom enrolled me in classes because I never could quite negotiate the turn around the kitchen table and down the hall to my bedroom without bouncing off the refrigerator - in other words, I was not very good at walking.

When I say several, I really do mean several. I probably took lessons for five or six years. Ballet, jazz, tap - yes, that was me. Somehow I never did master the art of gracefulness.

Growing up it was not uncommon for me to trip over the "imaginary lines" in the carpet or on the floor. My mom would often quip, "Grace" when this occured. If either of my boys had been girls, their middle names would have been Grace. It would have covered several bases - an old family name AND if my daughter ever tripped and her Grandmother quipped, "Grace" she would have simply answered, "What?"!

. . . and somewhere in the midst of turning my head back toward the doors, one of the door mats jumps up and trips me. Unfortunately, it was not a small trip. No, it was one of those take a couple of very awkward giant steps forward and pray that something stops you before you fall flat on your face type trips.

Good news, the doors did allow me to catch my balance before I went face first to the ground with my skirt up around my head. Bad news, I did scuff up my boots.

After regaining my balance I go back and fix the 3X5 door mat which has literally folded in half with my antics. I manage to laugh and mumble something like, "Wow".

One thing about growing up ungraceful, it has allowed me to learn how to gracefully be ungraceful.

simple faith

2006-12-12T21:56:00.000-06:00

Sweet Memories

The holidays are always filled with thoughts of loved ones and friends - it just seems inevitable. Some years bring incredible tragedies to those you know. Other years see the passing of time as loved ones who have journeyed long on this earth begin their eternal journey. This year has brought both to my life.

As my holiday preparations and daily life have been underway in recent days, I have come face to face with reality and sweet memories.

An old friend's eight year old son tragically dies. My breathe is taken away. My own children seem even more precious - the gift is cherished even more.

My Aunt's handwriting is found in a cookbook. My Grandmother's candy recipes are highlighted with a pink highlighter. The memories are sweet - the sorrow still remains.

My husband's Grandma passes away yesterday. Today my laundry includes a crocheted doily she made - the grief is new, but the memories are sweet.

I am purposeful about surrounding myself with memories. This week, I think I will be more mindful of how precious and sweet they truly are.

simple faith

2006-12-07T22:08:00.000-06:00

Simply Great Day

Truth be known, I have been in need of a day filled with simple pleasures for some time now. Today was the closest day to that I have experienced, well, for some time now.

At work I was able to clean, organize, and throw away (hallelujah) things in a couple of cabinets. That made me happy, happy, happy. And at home, I attacked a few stacks and also cleaned, organized, and threw away some things. Yea!!!

Then this afternoon, we traveled to God's Country to watch my oldest son play basketball. The entire team played well (and my son played well - sinking four 3 pointers and scoring 16 points) and they won what was a really close game. And . . my oldest son fouled out for the first time in his life! Not good that he fouled out in a close game, but he showed great aggressiveness on defense - we like that. These boys really needed this boost - basketball has been way too complicated to even write about.

Then, with my youngest son being cheerful because we were going to one of his favorite places to eat, we trekked to Eskimo Joe's. A Christmas tree decorated with orange and black, and topped with an orange cowboy hat, decorated the restaurant. Not my traditional decorating colors, but I really liked it!

Cheese fries with bacon and a Fowl Thing - a little slice of heaven smothered with sin. And to really make my day - I was the only one who received the new Centennial Celebration Joe's cup - AND it was pink. Woo hoo - life is good!!

Such simple pleasures for a simple kinda' girl.

simply faith

2006-12-02T19:59:00.000-06:00

Trimming the Tree

There are no hard and fast rules about trimming the tree at our house. It is usually done in stages and with various attitudes in tow.

This year it began last night. Well, actually, it began Thursday night. My husband and I sat up the tree and put on the lights.

This was after a trip earlier this week to find a new tree. We ventured out, youngest son along, to at the minimum of 4 stores looking for a new artificial tree - preferably one that is pre-lit and skinnier than our current one. The trip was futile. The skinny trees in town were pathetic. We decided (once again) to keep our current tree.

As I was saying, Thursday night my husband and I set up the tree, stringing lights as we went. With approximately one half of the tree left to assemble, we remembered that we had tossed several sets of lights last year. Our tree barely survived the season last year sporting several strands of lights that worked when it was put up - well, they worked for about 2 days. The tree came down quickly last year. I could not stand it!!!

The lack of lights sent my husband out - in the snow storm - in search of more strands to finish the project. Eventually, the tree was assembled and lit. We were done for the night, settling in for a family movie night. (Coach Carter - I would recommend it.)

Last night we went to watch "Miracle on 34th Street" at our community theater. Being a completely impartial person, I would say that all my friends stole the scenes they were in! Especially M who spoke Dutch to Santa!!! After the show we ventured to Starbuck's (only because DaVinci's was closed) and back home. It seemed like the perfect time for a little tree trimming.

Everyone was on board, except for my oldest son. We did get him to at least read the nail ornament poem as my youngest son hung the ornament. We decided to set his ornaments aside - I was sure he would want to hang them in the morning.

I was mistaken. This morning he still wanted absolutely nothing to do with trimming the tree. His ornaments were patiently waiting on the table, along with several others that did not make it to the tree last night.

I prayed for him/cursed him, "May you so be blessed," and began finishing the tree myself.

It was a walk through his life for me. I hung all the baby ornaments and the ages one through five ornaments. I hung the firefighter panda ornament - the fire truck had visited his school that year. . . and he had called 911 soon afterwards. The baseball playing bear ornament from the first year he had played t-ball. Then there was Kobe Bryant, Jason Kidd, and Tim Duncan. Harry Potter and ornaments made in school. And then there was that stinkin' OU ornament he insisted on one year - I hung it in the back.

As I finished off the tree with the satin balls I was taken back to my childhood. My mom would spray our satin balls with hairspray to keep them looking smooth. I trim mine when necessary, but on occasion I do think of spraying them.

Trimming our tree is always a walk down memory lane. I hope your memories are sweet and that the ones you are making with your loved ones will be also.

simple faith

2006-12-01T16:10:00.000-06:00

Snow Days

Our small city in a panhandle state fell prey to the massive winter storm this week. What fun!!! Snow, snow, and more snow.

We awoke Thursday morning with absolutely nothing on the ground and school cancelled because of the impending storm. My husband was skeptical to say the least. Of course, by the time I am leaving for work the snow has begun to fall and it continued into the night.

Yes, I said "leaving for work". Although my boys were out of school, I was (dutifully) at the office for four hours. The best phone call comes a little before noon.....

"Mom, I just wanted to tell you that we came to our house."

Previous phone call has told them that they cannot host the 'hood in our house. They need to go to Red's house - where there is an adult present.

"Red stuck his face in the snow and he is numb. We came to thaw out. There is a big mess, but we will clean it up."

"You are outside? Are you bundled up?" (Wind chill about zero!!)

"Yes, we have on the ski clothes and we are sledding. Bye!" Click.

Let's see - ski clothes, sledding - yes, they've been in the attic. I wonder if they brought the Christmas decorations down for me?

I come home to find the mess as cleaned up as it will be for days and the 'hood hanging at Red's house. Are my guys great or what?

Well, I did have to bring the Christmas decorations out of the attic myself.

Today we took them sledding. I love snow days.

simple faith

2006-11-14T20:10:00.000-06:00

A beautiful day in God's Country

Saturday we journeyed to our alma mater - God's Country- for a football day out. It was an incredibly beautiful November day. Crisp, but not cold, and little wind. An early kickoff at 11:30am allowed us to enjoy ourselves there and also allowed time to accomplish a few things around the house that evening.

The "alpha cooker" did no smoking on Saturday. We would have had to leave town at O-dark-thirty to accomplish that! Burgers and brauts were the serving of the day.

Our boys journeyed in to the stadium, but although we had tickets, we sat outside (with drinks) and enjoyed the game on the satellite TV set-up that makes the tailgate party a true treat. A delay of 3 to 5 seconds from action in the stadium to what happened on the TV made sure we did not miss any excitement. The roar of the crowd and the sound of "pistols firing" let us know when my beloved Cowboys did something great or our team scored.

Sorry Bears - my Cowboys put up more points on Saturday than from something like 1973! I must be happy, happy, happy - the limelight does not often shine on my part of the state during football season.

Bowl eligible - woo hoo!!! I haven't convinced my husband that the boys would think that was an ok Christmas gift to travel with the team......even as much as they love to travel.

November days like Saturday make for perfect football.

A great day to "box-up" and save in my memories.

Some days I wish I lived in God's Country.

simple faith

2006-11-09T17:01:00.000-06:00

That 30 day thing....

Some book I once read, maybe Steven Covey's 7 Habits of Highly Effective People, said that if you purposefully try something for 30 days, it will become a habit. Now, I know in some aspects that is true - I also know I can drop a good habit (like exercise) even after accomplishing it for several months. But yet, today, the 30 day thing is of a little concern.

I am sure you are just dying to know why, so let me share a bit of my week's journey with you. I have started to work part-time. Just 20 hours a week, on a flexible schedule, until about the end of the year......and, well, that's over 30 days!

Do you think it may be possible that I will excel at balancing all things in life, during the holidays, while working a bit, so well that I will want to make it a permanent aspect of my life??? Yeah, I'm not thinking so either, but you really never know.

I do know that I will either become the most organized person in the world - watch out Martha Stewart - or that I will have to let some things "slide".

Maybe I will just hire a housekeeper!

simle faith

2006-11-03T19:42:00.000-06:00

A Camping Sing Along

Just sit right back and I'll tell a tale,
a tale of a camping trip
that started from this small city
in a panhandle state,
a panhandle state.

Four campers packed and packed and packed,
and finally were loaded up
with a fishing boat in tow,
behind a new pick-up,
behind a new pick-up.

Four hours long their trip it was
as eastward they did go
Beaver Lake in the Natural State
We never drive slow,
We never drive slow.

Lunch in T-town was had by all,
back in to the truck.
Forty-four degrees outside,
Is that thermometer stuck?
Is that thermometer stuck?

Set up camp and gather wood,
roast hot dogs for dinner.
It's cold outside - into the tent
Skip-Bo, who's the winner?
Skip-Bo, who's the winner?

Next morning Mom and Dad are stiff
that ground is really hard!
Are we getting too old for this?
Next time let's rent a cabin,
Next time let's rent a cabin.

Clear skies, no wind, a perfect day
Boys fishing on the lake.
Mom loves the beautiful view,
But no pictures did she take,
No pictures did she take.

Next morning clouds come rolling in,
The wind begins to blow.
Mom looks at Dad and flashbacks come
Please no repeat of fall camping '04,
No repeat of fall camping '04!

Phone calls were made to family
No rain on the radar
We will see you for dinner.
We're glad you don't live too far,
Glad you don't live too far.

Into town for some supplies,
Most of it we find.
Dry county - you've got to be kidding me!!
I deserve some wine,
I deserve some wine!

Family comes for camp cookout
They were very brave
Lots of wind and very cold
Like Pooh's blustery day,
Like Pooh's blustery day.

S'mores and hot chocolate for all
before we said "Good night".
They had brought me some wine
Everything's gonna to be alright,
Everything's gonna to be alright.

Up early to head back home
It was a very cold, windy night
Thirty-three degrees as we leave
I am not a pretty sight,
I am not a pretty sight!

At home we unpack and unpack and unpack
Laundry piles galore
I begin thinking to myself
What do we do this for?
What do we do this for?

Because time is spent and memories are good
My boys are growing up
But, I really think we can achieve this all
in a cabin next fall
in a cabin next fall.

simple faith

ps - I could not fit my electric blanket in to the song, but believe me - I would not have survived 3 nights of cold camping with out it!!!! Two hard and fast rules for the camp site: 1. It must have running water (that means in the bathroom too). 2. It must have an electric outlet.

2006-10-31T14:22:00.000-06:00

It's a Scary Day!

I looked at my calendar today and became scared, very scared. It is October 31st! Where has my month gone?!?!?

I glance around my house and realize that my time has not been spent on cleaning or accomplishing any of the many projects waiting patiently on my attention. I look at my calendar and realize that my time has simply been chipped away with lots of things....important things, but not things that leave me with a finished product which I can claim as "done".

Things that have kept me busy: camping, meetings, school, church, seminars, practices, games, laundry, housework. Yes, that pretty much begins to cover it.

I would love to sit and type all the things that have been floating around in my head the past couple of weeks, but I must continue my journey for the day. I must not forget to enjoy the journey!

I will be back!

simple faith

2006-10-16T21:55:00.000-05:00

Temptation

I saw him as I passed by.....he was surrounded by many friends, but he stood out. Tall, a little crooked - his character was unmistakable.

I have passed that way several times recently and have not noticed him. But tonight, he seemed to be calling my name.

I resisted the temptation. "I have plenty," I tell myself.

Yes, but none so tall and so crooked. Isn't there always room for one more??

I must be strong. I must send my husband to deliver and fetch my son from football practice lest I succumb to my weakness.

Pumpkin obsessions are a dangerous thing!!!

simple faith

2006-10-14T20:45:00.000-05:00

Porch Pumpkins

It all begins innocently enough. I spy them in the grocery store at the end of September. I take mental notes on who is carrying what and at what price. I usually maintain some form of self control until October officially arrives. This year I even managed to wait until the first weekend of October.

"I think I am going to the produce stand."

"For what?"

"I just want to check out their pumpkins."

My husband offers to come along.

This is odd - I am convinced it was a defensive move on his part to curb my pumpkin spending. It worked. I shopped quickly (for me) and left with only one ghost pumpkin and one cinderella pumpkin. But I did take mental notes.....

The next day a trip to one grocery store secures a bag of assorted gourds. (I am stockpiling everything in the garage until I have gathered the "just right" assortment.)

The next day the true shopping begins.

Yes, that was me. Yes, I did have a shopping cart only for pumpkins - that's all I went there for. Yes, I drove my empty shopping cart through the produce section studying every pumpkin. Yes, I did weigh the pie pumpkins - they were going to be too pricey. Yes, I did climb on the hay bales outside and dig through the cardboard pumpkin bins. Yes, I left with multiple pumpkins.

I put out all my gatherings. Front porch and kitchen porch both properly adorned with pumpkins. Gourds displayed on an antique orange picnic basket in a chair on the front porch.

It's still not quite right......no, I need some pie pumpkins.

Back to the produce stand to purchase a few of the small pumpkins. Their selection has long stems. That makes me happy.

While trying to choose my small pumpkins I am studying one in particular. One of the girls working the stand comments, "That one is really cute." Finally - someone who speaks my pumpkin language!!!

I take that one, and a few others. Home to finish off the pumpkin project. Ah, life is good.

Although, I never did find a good tall one this year.

simple faith

2006-10-03T11:33:00.000-05:00

Sunday Morning

I am one of those people who enjoys Sunday mornings in church. My Sunday School teacher is blessed with the gift of teaching and constantly challenges my thinking and attitudes. Most days I love my church family dearly - some days I just love them, but most days dearly. My pastor is skilled at planning the service and presenting the Word of God in a way that leads me, for at least one hour each week, in to worship.

Our church is eight years old. We have undergone many changes in this time, but one aspect of our worship that remains the same is our greeting. Someone, usually my husband, begins the service by welcoming us all there and then we spend a few moments greeting one another. We all enjoy this time. It is not unusual for choir members to run to the choir loft after the music has stopped playing (our sign that the greeting time is over).

Sunday morning I position myself skillfully between my two sons. They are 12 and 14, you would think this would not be a necessity, but it is. The music begins and I excuse myself around my 14 year old. Within half a step, I am all but tackled from behind by my 14 year old as a melee has obviously began to occur in my pew. Thankfully I have not fallen in to the aisle on some poor passerby.

I turn to grab the offender and begin a not so holy tirade at both boys in as hushed tones as possible between my clenched teeth. Sensing my fury, they do not meander long in the world of "it was him, not me." I turn to greet an understanding friend in the aisle and then position myself, again, squarely between the two boys. A couple of other friends wander by to bestow their condolences. These friends know if I am standing guard during the greeting there are obvious reasons.....they are positioned on my right and on my left.

Please also note that we sit close to the front of the church. This was not a missed production!

Where did I begin? Oh yes, with worship......

This "pew incident" is not too commonplace anymore, but is also not a rarity. I have learned to take a couple of breaths and refocus. That is what worshipping with children next to you is like.

The last song of our singing time was a familiar and always (in my life) an attitude adjusting chorus. We only sang it once, but it continues to run through my head even now.....

I love you with the love of the Lord.
Yes, I love you with the love of the Lord.
I can see in you the glory of my King,
And I love you with the love of the Lord.

Isn't that just like the Holy Spirit? When I am at my wit's end with my boys, I am given a song or led to a passage that speaks to my heart.

Boy, do I need this song this week!

simple faith

2006-10-01T15:08:00.000-05:00

Being a Football Mom

In case you haven't noticed, football season is well underway. I spend a lot of time during the months of August, September, October, November, and December in some way involved with this sport. I love my alma mater Cowboys and follow them in person, on the radio, or on the TV. We attend most high school football games for our small city and occasionally travel to watch my husband's former high school play ball also. Then you must factor in the practices we take our youngest son to and from and all his scrimmages and games. Football is truly a season at my house!

The strange thing is, I do not really understand the sport that well. Oh, I can figure out all the basics and some of the intricacies, but don't push your luck.

I will partly blame this on the fact that I did not grow up around this sport. My tiny town in the southwest corner of our state did not have a football program. I was a junior in high school before I saw my first "live" football game. I captured the basics easily and was fine with that depth of knowledge for years. But now, I have a son who likes and plays the sport. I find myself at a loss in the lingo.

Conversation following a practice this week:

"How was practice?"

"Great. They changed the position I play."

"Really, what are you playing now?"

"Middle linebacker."

My son seems pleased with this change - that is a good thing. The problem is, I don't have a complete understanding of where this position is on the field, or if it is an offense or defense type thing. Up to this point, he has played on the line (offense and defense). I can handle that position and couple it with the fact that he is the only player on his team who wears long socks - I am good to go.

What now? I can see it is time to reveal just a tad bit of my lack of knowledge to my son. I think my guys do not completely realize how little I understand......well, I tell myself that anyways.

"So, where would I look for you on the field?"

"I line up in the middle of the three guys standing right behind the line."

I can handle that.

Did he say that was offense or defense?

I am sure I will figure it out tomorrow night.

simple faith

2006-09-28T18:42:00.000-05:00

Pondering the tough questions

House cleaning takes many forms at my home. Some days I use it as a time to contemplate and pray. Other times, I turn up the music and dance my way through it - this is not my boys' favorite thing (some of my music or any of my dancing). And other times, like today, my mind wanders and I ponder the important things in life.........if someone else cleans your house, do they tell you that your bathtub needs recaulked or that the shower head in your kids' shower is not really working properly?

Seriously, think about it. My boys are not going to say, "Hey Mom, the shower isn't putting out much water." No, they would really not notice until the silly thing completely quit working! So, would a housekeeper leave me a note, or would they just call a handyman to fix whatever needs fixin'? Maybe the housekeeper is sleeping with the handyman......

I amuse myself with little things like this to make myself feel better about scrubbing all surfaces of my own house. How would I possibly know what needed attention if I did not personally take care of it????

Truthfully, I would be willing to take that risk!

simple faith

2006-09-25T14:39:00.000-05:00

Visions of a Pumpkin Farm

During lunch with friends yesterday, the conversation turned to their young adult children and a high schooler beginning to seek his future. We commented on the value of a college education and the doors it opens - even if you do not go in to your "education of choice field". We discussed Steve Irwin (crocodile guy) and how cool it was to see someone living out their passion. It seems that he always knew what he wanted to do when he grew up and was blessed to be able to live that out. Very few people accomplish that in their lifetime!

Almost all of us confessed that we did not have that in our lives - a one driving passion that defined what occupation we would find ourselves doing. At almost 40 and above, we were still batting around the question of "What do I want to be when I grow up?" Don't get me wrong - we all enjoy (most days) our chosen occupations. But waking up and immediately thinking, "I can't wait to begin my day" is not something that occurs often. I am sure most people ponder this on occasion.

Today I saw a magazine cover of a pumpkin farm. Red barn in the background, all sorts of pumpkins lined up to be sold and mums on a flatbed trailer. There are days I dream of being a pumpkin farmer. I love pumpkins and fall. I envision myself living a big, old, white farm house with a wrap-around porch. It would be a "city person" farm. One that exists for the purpose of personal enjoyment rather than monetary gain. Along with our pumpkin patch, we would have a vegetable garden, a sunflower patch and an entire small field of wildflowers. A menagerie of fun animals including setting hens, those really cool looking show roosters, peacocks, ducks, a donkey, and miniature cattle would live on our farm. I would have a Martha Stewart type knowledge of bee keeping, gardening, flowers, trees, etc. My days would be spent in simple pleasures at a slow pace. The joys of such an existence!

But alas, I know the reality of farm life - whether a "city person" one or a real one. It is hard work! I know my visions would soon fade and the reality of it all would not be my passion.

I think I will hold on to the vision anyway.......

simple faith

2006-09-20T22:01:00.000-05:00

A "Gold"en Day

I was in hypergold overdrive.

I vented to another gold friend - she understands my pain. Someone had dropped the ball on a project and I, being gold, had not only picked up the ball - I chose to run with it. I could have skillfully passed it off, but no - I am diligent and committed. She was running with her own ball - actually several. We golds tend to do this.

I phoned a friend to help me correct a perceived problem. She was sympathetic, to a point. She saw the folly of my problem and finally proclaimed, "You are being very gold about this." (Of course she is screaming orange - words like spontaneous and flexible describe her!) I relented, knowing she was right. I took her advice to "let it go."

Do you know what color you are? No, not what season. That was the '80s. I am looking for your personality color.

If you aren't familiar with this concept, it is fairly simple. You are given a couple of tests that determine if you are an introvert or an extrovert and then what your dominant and secondary personality colors are.

Things like this greatly interest me. I know most of my friends' personality colors and it is of great help in understanding them and what makes them tick. Just another look in to knowing someone better. Consequently, they also know me better.

I am an introverted gold/blue. To quote the profile my dominant personality is: "...dutiful and responsible to others. I cherish my home and family, and place priority on taking care of them. I am constantly striving to provide security and stability for those in my life." Key words include, but are not limited to: committed, loyal, accountable, dependable, and organized. My secondary personality: "seek(s) authenticity, peace, harmony, and balance in life."

These explanations focus on the positive in our personalities. But I am sure you can see that negatives also arise from our make-up. Hypergoldness happens to me when I am stressed and overwhelmed with my "to do" list. Things feel out of control, so I move in to super control mode. Thankfully, these days, those moments are not too many. God has blessed me with an assortment of friends who help direct me to the positive.

Most days, I seek my balanced life.

simple faith

2006-09-18T21:19:00.000-05:00

Just the Facts, Ma'am

The weekend was a whirlwind of activity - literally as the wind swept down the plains of my panhandle state!

Just a few highlights to share.

Friday Morning Double Feature
Our neighborhood grade school is named after President William Howard Taft. Every year we declare a "William Howard Taft Day" and allow our kids to dress up as our largest President or his wife. For the last time, I tied a pillow to one of my boys and dressed him with his Dad's clothes to parade across the stage. Interesting fact: Taft actually got stuck in the tub at the White House and it took 8 men to get him out. They installed a special tub for him!

I was also treated (unexpectedly) to our 4th grades' tribute to the Cherokee Strip Land Run. Happening in September 1893, it was billed as "the greatest race in history" and helped to settle our part of the panhandle state. I am officially on my last tour of grade school programs - so far it does not make me sad. Check with me in the spring!

Friday Night Movie
As a family we watched the Chronicles of Narnia's The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. It was a great movie. Of course, I always recommend that you read the book before seeing the movie. As a bonus read The Magician's Nephew which is actually the first book in the series. It gives you an even better understanding of the movie!

Saturday in God's Country
I know many of you may think you live in God's Country, but you are mistaken. Really, check out the 23rd Psalm - my alma mater is located in God's Country. We spent a very hot and windy day tailgating. My husband's office does this at all home games. I will only write more about tailgating when I have time to do it justice. My beloved Cowboys won!

I did watch the end of the OU game on our satellite TV set-up. I must tell all my Sooner friends that you did get some crummy calls - I am sorry.

Sunday in the State Capital City
We went our State Capital City to watch The Rock & The Rabbi. A wonderful production of music and storytelling. If you have an opportunity to see this show, take advantage of it. It is in our panhandle state at several venues this month.

Sunday Night Race
One of my favorite shows made its season debut Sunday night - The Amazing Race. We all watch this show and analyze the contestants. It is fascinating to watch the dynamics of the teams and see individuals overcome personal issues and challenges. I would hate to put myself under such a spotlight in such stressful situations. Although I do think it would be an amazing adventure!

Thankfully, not all weekends are this busy! This is not a pace that suites my family. We tend to prefer our journey much slower......

simple faith

2006-09-13T09:59:00.000-05:00

It was a beautiful day....

It was a beautiful day - the weather was wonderful, everyone left the house smoothly, I made it to yoga for the first time in months. The substitute instructor did not show, but I declared it a victory anyway. I had made the effort, that counted for something. I was feeling good! I took care of a couple of jobs and checked myself in the mirror. Hair decent, make-up decent......I think I will go have my passport picture taken.

Hit the pause button.

I am not that big on having my picture taken. I don't mind too much if I am in the prescence of a really good professional photographer. You know, the ones who care about backgrounds, lighting, soft focus, and digital touch-ups. I have only been fortunate enough to have met 3 of these "artists" in my life. None of them have worked at an official document photo site.

Journey with me to September of last year.......

My family is traveling to San Diego. We have a ridiculously early flight out. We make it to the airport and I hand over my driver's license for identification. It is expired. Not by much, only a few days - but airport security seems not to care.

I am pulled to the side for the public wanding. Without thinking I turn to hand my purse to my husband. Airport security really does not like this. I have earned myself a trip down the hallway to the "all but strip search" room.

They go through everything. I am given a "My aren't you organized!" compliment by one of the many security people I visit with. I am finally allowed to join my husband and boys who are waiting somewhat patiently.

One of them inquires, "Didn't you know that your driver's license was expired?" Well yes, I did. But you have a 30 day grace period to renew it. I offer what is a completely logical explanation of, "Every time I thought about it, I was not having a good hair day." I could tell by the look on their faces that none of them understood my dilemma - you have to remember that I live in a frat house!

Hit the play button.

I travel to the store where I have my photos developed. I hope the person at the counter is not the unfriendly one. One last check in the mirror - sunglass marks! I knew I should not have put them on......oh well.

Entering the store I am relieved to see that it is not the unfriendly girl. This girl is not overly friendly, but I at least think she does not dislike me. The process begins. She pulls down a white screen. (I was hoping the background would be blue, but okay.) She pulls out a little digital camera and says, "Are you ready?" I smile. She clicks, checks the picture and wants to take another one. Repeat the process.

After a few minutes, I return to the counter. She hands me the photos tucked in to a little blue card holder. I open the card.......

Inside my head: "Holy canolli! I thought I was having a decent hair day. The lighting is awful - look at all those shadows on my face. I think she used the second picture and I knew my smile was a bit weird. Surely I do not look that old!"

To the picture girl: "That's great. Thank you."

She rings me out, being nicer to me than normal. I think she takes some sadistic pleasure in taking horrible passport photos!!!

Oh well, at least the weather was lovely.

Simple Faith

2006-09-12T10:22:00.000-05:00

Confessions of a Flag Lover

Hi. My name is Simple Faith and I love the American Flag.

Not "love - love" silly, as a grade schooler might say. But, you know, the type of love that respects, honors, and protects. The type of love that defines priorities in my life.

This love affair started as a child. My tiny town in the southwest corner of my panhandle state always had a huge (for us) 4th of July celebration. I grew up waving a flag while riding a bicycle or on a float in the parade.

But the true moment of falling completely in love happened while I was in high school. A veteran came and spoke to us in a school assembly one day. He was an older gentleman, missing an arm, and having an air about him of orneriness. He spoke of serving in the war (I don't remember which one) and of what the flag meant to him. He spoke of leading men to battle and of losing 50 men under his charge. When he looked at the flag, that is what he saw. The fifty stars symbolized the loss of life he had personally experienced. I was never able to see the flag the same again.

I became the type of girl who gets goose bumps when I see it raised and who stands at attention when the "Star Spangled Banner" is played. I became the type of girl whose heart aches when I see it flying at half staff, knowing that as a nation, we are in mourning.

I am the type of girl who flies my flag on official holidays (I even keep a listing of those days posted). I am the type of girl who sometimes flies my flag just because it seems like a wonderful day to do so. I am the type of girl who disposes of my worn flags properly.

I do not like to see the flag improperly used on clothing. I do not like to see faded or worn flags flown. And I do not like to see the flag disrespected or burned in protest.

On occasion, I still see the fifty stars and remember the veteran and his story. Sometimes the flag brings to rememberance the past and the victory and sacrifice of our nation. Other times the flag brings to rememberance courage, honor, discipline, and devotion. And there are even times as I see it flutter in the wind that I think of the constant winds of change that blow around us and the stability the flag represents in my life.

I hope my love affair with the American flag will last a lifetime!

Simple Faith

2006-09-09T13:44:00.000-05:00

Salt Lake City, Utah

I spent a few days away from my small city traveling with my husband on a business trip. I accompanied him to Salt Lake City to a meeting at the Grand America.

We have flown in and out of SLC a few times and I have always thought the landing and take-off over the Great Salt Lake were beautiful. This time was a bit disappointing - I am not sure, but they must be having awfully dry weather. The Lake was not the brilliant magenta I have seen it and it was much murkier, not reflecting the sky like before. But that was one of the few disappointing things on the trip.

The Grand America is truly that - GRAND! It was built as part of the Olympic improvements when SLC hosted the 2000 games. Part of the fun of traveling is on occasion getting to stay in an extravagant hotel. I won't gush on too much about it - you might get the impression that I am a hotel snob. (I sleep in my share of tents when camping and cheap motels when traveling with ball teams, for those of you who don't know me.)

Downtown SLC was fun and eclectic. Beautiful architecture, pretty landscaping, and an interesting mix of Mormonism, Christianity, New Age, and Native Americanism. Lots of art galleries, shopping and restaurants to venture amongst.

Interesting highlights:
* A sign in a men's suit store that advertised "Complete Missionary Uniforms Available Here."
You don't see that everywhere!
* A Brazilian street musician - the music was beautiful and very few people were appreciating it.
* Lunch at a Brazilian restaurant that would bring all sorts of skewered meat to your table for you to try. A little scary, a little yummy......no, the restaurant was no where near the street musician.
* Dinner at a lovely little Italian Restaurant whose owner was constantly roaming about greeting and visiting with his guest. It was obvious that he knew each of his regular customers and greeted them warmly and hoped to make his new guest feel welcomed also. The fact that he looked like Doc from the "Back to the Future" movies was just a fun bonus!

Things I will do next time:
* Roam through Temple Square - ran out of time.
* Go watch the Tabernacle Choir practice - Thursday evenings and it is open to the public. My husband has been and says it is amazing!
* I will remember to not wear a black skirt and a white sweater set while in town. Someone on the trolley struck up a conversation with us (our accents gave us away - go figure) and asked us if we were Mormon.....he wasn't either. Obviously he did not see my cute black and white driving mocs that did not fit the dress code.

Life is always an adventure - embrace it!!!

Simple Faith

2006-09-05T13:43:00.000-05:00

Grown Up Girls Only!

Warning - if you are male, under 25, or freakishly thin, you will not relate to this post!!!

I bought my first body shaping undergarment today. I share this for two reasons. First, it is a milestone of sorts for a girl. Kind of like your first bra. It signifies a new stage in your life (whether you want to admit you are there or not!).

Secondly, I share this because it was pricey and it makes me mad that no one will see it to appreciate it. I am just vain enough that when I get something new and fabulous I want my friends to comment on it.

For practicality purposes, it does achieve what I was hoping it would. Although, I think I will have to also invest in one that comes up the rib cage.

There are just some things about "growing up" that I do not care for!

simple faith

2006-09-04T21:21:00.000-05:00

Frat House

I live in a house with my husband, two boys, and a male cat. The friends of my boys who frequent my house most often are male. By my own sense of fair play, you would think God had prepared me for this role by having me grow up around a male dominated family. That is not so!

I had no male cousins my age and no brothers. My world was full of strong women and not a lot of male interaction. My dad and my granddads were around, but not really a part of our social structure.

And yet, I find myself living in a frat house. Go figure.

Mostly I love it. My personality and parenting style most definitely fits boys. Although there are those occasional moments that I am completely at a loss. Football pants bring those moments.

When my youngest son decided to first play football, I went and purchased him a pair of football pants. They were not what he wanted. We returned to the store and tried again. These did not work either. I ventured to the store, and tried again - only with the same results. I was not prepared for such a complex problem. How could this be such an issue???

In one of my not so finest moments, I went to my husband's office. I encountered him and an unfortunate bystander in the hallway. Tossing the pants to him I briefly explained my problem ending with a statement that went something like, "I understand leotards. I understand tights. I do not understand football pants. You take care of it!"

Well, my husband came through with his usual flying colors - rescuing his damsel in distress. And I have proven capable of the task of buying football pants in subsequent years.

You know, not every girl is lucky enough to live in a frat house!!!

simple faith

2006-09-03T15:09:00.000-05:00

Tapestry Ponderings

My life is a tapestry that is rich with colors and textures all interwoven from my relationships with friends and family. Some relationships bring love, joy, laughter, wisdom, and humor. Some relationships, well they don't necessarily bring those things, but I wouldn't trade them. They add texture to my tapestry.

Today I am just thankful for the diversity of family and friends.

simple faith

2006-08-31T16:03:00.000-05:00

Backseat Conversations

I drive a minivan. Now, by minivan standards, it is a cool minivan. I chauffeur around many children. Most noteably my two boys, but often several others. I don't mind. We cruise around with the bass loud and as much of their music going as I can stand - looking as cool as any mom with a van full of young teen boys can possibly look.

One of the reasons I don't mind is that often I glean a lot of info from this job. On occasion it is worth sharing. These conversations will from hereon be captioned under "Backseat Conversations".

The topic differs depending upon the boys in the van. Sometimes it is school related and other times it is sports or entertainment related. But when one particular boy is in my van - it is always girl related!

Today's conversation revolves around a cell phone being passed around (only 1 boy knows this privilege - the other two are simply the envious ones). Much is said about text messages received and about the girls that sent them. Two boys notice the word girls is plural, more conversation ensues. Cell phone boy triumphantly announces he has just sent a message to 3 girls. Red says, "No way, Dude. What did you say?" Cell phone boy cooly replies, "Hey".

I somehow manage to keep a straight face and control the minivan while inside I am absolutely rolling. I cannot believe I deprive my boys of such intelligent and meaningful conversation by not giving them cell phones. What type of mother am I??

simple faith