What Goes Up Must Come Down (Strike That and Reverse)

This week's adventures in cooking have been something, I'm not quite sure how to begin.  The food poisoning was unintentional, although Sparta has told anyone who will listen that it was my attempt to kill him and I fell into my own trap.  Sparta, Ben and I were the unfortunate recipients of staphylococcus aurea (at least that is the diagnosis I came up with during my 3am Google search which was later confirmed by the 7am Google search).  That happened Tuesday evening, Wednesday is a blur.

Thursday was Leah's birthday and although not eager to jump back into the kitchen, I'm the mom. More dependable than the post office- neither rain, snow, sleet, lack of sleep, fever, or things that should not be mentioned can prevent a birthday dinner from completion.  Leah's special dinner request was for fried chicken, mac-n-cheese, potatoes, and rolls. Nope it wasn't balanced at all.  She didn't want a cake because that is for today when the ten friends sleep over. I could not let her birthday pass without candles so, I thought cupcakes would be perfect. Perfectly easy, perfectly quick, perfectly perfect.  Unfortunately, I was a little less than right. No cupcake liners and Wesley got sick, thus making a simple task virtually impossible to complete.

After I got Wesley situated, inspiration struck and I cut liners out of aluminum foil. How clever was that?  I put the mix, eggs, milk instead of water, and a dash of vanilla in the bowl and mixed away. After pouring the batter into each muffin tin and sticking them in the oven, I realized I didn't put the oil in sooooooo what's a normally competent cook who has poisoned her family earlier in the week to do?  I took the batter out and divvied the oil into the cups 1/4 teaspoon at a time and incorporated it with a toothpick. Twenty minutes later the cupcakes were ready, looked okay and I didn't tell what I'd done.
Since we made it through the night without their reappearance  I don't think I have to let them in on my little secret. The other dishes turned out tasty and also toxin free.

This has been one more week. Certainly not the way it was planned. Between auto trouble, food poisoning, break-ups, the virus that struck Wesley, the birthday gift that arrived inoperable, and the birthday dinner that almost wasn't this week is not one I'll long to repeat. Now that the pity party is over, time to finish the birthday cake for today's gaggle of girls and the real party.  It's gotta' get better.

Baby It's Cold Outside

I bought a new white coat yesterday. It's absolutely lovely. Micro-fiber fabric, fitted, detachable hood with fabulously fluffy faux fur trim. It spoke to me in the store and I listened. When I found that it was 50% off, the thing became even more tempting. I did try to resist the impulse but only half-heartedly.  At the checkout counter the cashier oohed and ahhed with me(all the confirmation I needed). 

When I got home with  shopping bags in tow (yes, I bought more than just the one thing), I put the coat on and was feeling quite cute. Anticipating a less than warm reception to my splurge from Sparta and because I felt guilty about it myself, I defensively attempted to justify why I had spent money on myself at this time of year when there are many other expenses to consider.  The explanation went  like this, "for one thing it is winter after all and in our entire marriage I've never purchased a coat for myself and since I've lost weight nothing fits right anymore". Honestly, under cross-examination those reasons wouldn't hold up.  I have some nice hand-me-downs from my sister Tara and my Aunt Ann which have kept me warm so it's not like I was ever without. I've lost some weight this year but coats are bulky enough that size really doesn't matter much. So Sparta watched as I pirouetted to get a look at all angles pulled the hood up and back down and grinned ridiculously at myself in the mirror. Without a question or rebuke, he smiled back saying only that he was glad it brought me pleasure.

I wore it to church last night and put it on again this morning to take the kids to school. It was a bumpy ride. A flat tire, a really flat tire that I continued to drive on in order to get both children to their respective schools on time.  Tires as you  know are rather close to the ground and black and dirty. Did I mention the coat is white?

Not Ready For The Kiln

In the very good times I remember to whom I owe praise. In the really difficult times I know where to direct my cries and pleas for mercy and help. It is in the normalness of life that I fail to see and seek God.

Those interchangeable days where any one is just like another. The mundane tasks that take place from ringing of the alarm clock to bath and bedtime all done in a perfect Ben Stein-like monotone. Wake the kids, feed the kids, make the beds, wash the dishes, feed the dog, do the laundry, clean the toilet, cook the dinner, watch TV, send kids to bed, go to sleep and repeat.

Psalm 139:16 says, Your eyes saw my unformed body. All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.

I read this verse, re-read it and then read it again putting my own name in the place of the personal pronouns. “All the days of Tracey’s life were ordained for Tracey before any of them came to be.” I have long thought that I was here on earth at this particular time in history in order to accomplish something for the kingdom of God, that I was purposed for this time not that time was purposed for me. The first line of Rick Warren’s “The Purpose Driven Life” seemed to confirm it , “It’s not about me” but guess what, maybe it is about me. Not exclusively mind you, but this verse affirms that each day is shaped for me. That word translated ordained is “yatsar” and it means to be formed, fashioned or framed like clay by a potter. The days I live in exist in order that I might be formed into the person the Creator would have me be.


In the everyday repetitions of life, my spirit is being shaped and smoothed in much the same way a rock or mountain is rounded and smoothed by weather, water, and erosion. Over time becoming something quite different that the sharp rough thing it was originally. These days were formed with me in mind. Your days are formed with you in mind by a Potter who knows exactly the ware He has in mind for that unformed embryo you once were.
 
Praying that I will be shaped more easily; compliant and yielding to the Father's will in my life and for my life that He may be glorified in  all circumstances especially in my day to day duties.

Get Your Motor Runnin'...

We are looking for a new automobile...not really brand new just new to us.  Sparta is opposed to new, fresh, shiny, from the factory cars because that would mean payments, full coverage insurance and instant depreciation. Here is auto wisdom per Sparta:  a car is not an investment; it is unwise to spend that much money on something that devalues so quickly; a car is a tool to get you to and from where you need to be. He is right on all counts.( I don't like that he is right.)

I've read a couple of articles about frugal millionaires and learned that Warren Buffet, Jim Walton and the world's richest man Carlos Slim drive older cars in their day to day lives.  The Financial Peace guy, Dave Ramsey, advises not to buy new and says that leasing is not the way to go either. I think I've heard him say something along the line of if you've leased you've been fleeced.  So you see, Sparta is in good company with his beliefs and opinions.

It doesn't matter though that my transportation won't be new, because it won't be a mini-van. (Insert Happy Dance Here).  Since Ben rarely rides anywhere with us anymore and Allison is on the verge of her permit we don't  have to have a van.  For the first time in 15 years I will get to drive a car a real, honest-to-Pete, four door car as a primary means of getting back and forth.  YIPPEE!!!

Honestly, I never was a van type of person. Although I have been driving one for what seems an eternity now, it never felt quite right- I sort of felt like a steak in a room full of vegetarians.  Now to figure out what will let me feel like me. Autotrader.com here I come.

Mmmm...That Sounds Good



The fam chowing down



Ben tried out for the basketball team this year. He is a senior and last tried out and made the team as a freshman.  During that season he didn't get a lot of play time but he did get a girlfriend. Girl trumps basketball or at least it did back when he was 15.

When first cuts were made during this tryout, he didn't make it.  His ego was hurt and his pride battered but he displayed a level of maturity not frequently seen up to this point. There was no blaming of the coaches, no excuse offered for poor play. He just accepted it and looked for the lesson(s) to be found.  Even so, he still needed a little help to feel better and nothing provides a body comfort like favorite foods. For Ben it was grilled steak and macaroni-n-cheese. Ahhh, an icepack to the bruised ego.

Not only is comfort found in certain foods, specific dishes also serve to remind me of people and places. Food (as much if not more than photos) tends to open the door that leads down memory lane.  Sock-it-to-me cake, butterscotch pie, and biscuits with chocolate gravy  make me think of Mawmaw Gann. Nobody makes potato salad like Aunt Sheila and it's impossible for me to eat fried chicken and not compare it to my mother's. YUM!  I wonder which foods will be the ones my children remember most from childhood.



Banana Pudding



 In addition to the requisite family recipes- Thanksgiving dressing (it still never turns out just like mom's), beef tips, Martha Washington candy, sweet potato casserole and banana pudding - I have some others I consider quite dear. With each move our family has made, I have asked for recipes from friends. I may not see them often and it is even possible our paths will never cross again, but I cannot prepare those special dishes without thinking of the person from whom each one came. A couple of examples are a soothing chicken soup with bowtie pasta, the recipe came from a sweet friend in Hartselle, Alabama and a cool macaroni salad from a dear friend in Lynchburg, Virginia.  These women impacted my life with their friendship for a season, but I keep them close even now through their recipes.

Sparta has trouble remembering many things but not the first meal I cooked for him. Yellow rice and black beans with corn muffins always elicit the same response "Hey baby, you cooked this for me the first time you cooked for me".  I believe it's true the way to a man's heart is through his stomach at least in the case of my man.

Is this sentimentalization of foods insane? I don't think so but..............

A Lesson From Wesley

My younger son's bed is always in disarray when he gets up each morning.  He most definitely does not sleep in one position, he is all over the place. When I went to make his bed this morning both the top and fitted sheets were completely off the bed. As I reached behind the mattress to tuck the bottom sheet back in place, I caught a glimpse of brightly colored paper. "Uh-oh", I thought, "probably a form from school, karate or church that I have missed".  I reached between the mattress and headboard and pulled the paper out and saw in his precious 8 year old handwriting "thank you God mail".

I couldn't resist opening it up and reading what he wanted to say to God:

dear God
Please make my arm heal and thank you for food and water you bring all of us and make tomorrow a good day and make every day a good day please make my secret real. P.S. from Wesley Alden Cagle
thank you note for God.

I assume he wrote this couple of weeks ago after he had fallen off the trampoline and landed on his arm. Even though he was hurting, he was thankful.  What a lesson for me.  When life gets me down, gratitude is probably not the attitude I most often display but it is the right one.

As for the secret, I don't know what it is but I have been aware that he has been praying for something daily since the beginning of this school year. Another lesson for me. Persistence. Although it has been more than three months since school started, (I realize that in grown-up terms that's not long but in kid time it can seem an eternity) he is still praying.  I have also learned this year that as far as secret keeping in our family goes, Wesley is the only one who got that tiny nugget of DNA.

I am amazed at the faith that this short note shows too. My little boy has denounced the notions of the Easter Bunny, Tooth Fairy and I believe he even doubts Santa Claus and not because of anything I've said.  I wanted him to believe for a while longer, he is my baby and the last one for whom we will have the opportunity to play those parts.  I am thankful that he realizes the reality of God even though unseen.

Praying that I might express my own faith with the childlike attitude of my sweet son.

Miss Me Yet?

I am a political news junkie, in fact, that is probably why I've been MIA from the blogosphere these past few weeks. There was always something interesting to read that linked to something else interesting to read, that linked to something else, etc...  I am hopeful that my addiction is under control since the elections are now over.

My interest in politics goes way back.  My dad ran for sheriff twice when I was a child.   I remember going door to door along with my younger sister asking people to vote for my daddy. We would be dropped off in subdivisions and knock-knock on every door.  It was a lot like trick-or-treating without the possibility of treats. A favorite memory from those days is how our dad taught us to shake hands properly ( a useful lesson and I've been told I have a great handshake). My sister and I attended various rallies. The excitement and enthusiasm was contagious, and so the addiction began.

Daddy's mother, also known as Maw-Maw, was a poll worker in our district and would bring all the unused ballots to her house after elections.  My cousin, my sister, and I spent most Friday nights with her. We proceeded to hold our own elections each weekend until the ballots were all used up.  We would take turns pretending to be the candidates whose names happened to be on that year's form and tally up the votes. We would each vote more than once, it's amazing  none of us turned out to be community organizer/activists.

As a young woman there was a time when I thought myself to be more liberal feminist than conservative evangelical.  I remember arguing with my dad once and calling him a male chauvinist as I sang Hilary Clinton's praises. He didn't like that very well and apparently the charge offended him more than I had hoped at the time. When John McCain announced that his running mate would be Sarah Palin, Daddy called immediately to let me know he was quite pleased with that choice. Daddy was very clear -a male chauvinist, he is not.

This past Tuesday as I cast my ballot, I had the pleasure of being with my 18 year old son as he voted in his very first election and I just wouldn't be Tracey if there were no tears so, of course, I cried. Don't you wonder what all the folks there must have thought as I stood back crying and watching him  as he made his choices?

Here's a little FYI for ya - although my views are considerably conservative, I read blogs and articles from known liberal sites and publications. I turn on "The View" occasionally but Whoopi and Joy really get on my nerves even when the show isn't politically charged. Even though I am Christian southern  woman who lives in the boonies,  watches Fox News Channel, reads Drudge and listens to talk radio my decisions are informed and my own.

Raised In A Barn

"Were you raised in a barn?" is one of my favorite expressions for questioning the rudeness and messiness of  others. On occasion I've heard or said things about the behaviors and attitudes of other people's children. I've been guilty of saying stuff about how their parents aren't teaching them manners or I can't believe the parents let him/her go out dressed like that. To be honest, I am an equal opportunity grumbler- sometimes, I wonder the same things about my own kids.


 I know I taught them to say "please", "thank-you" "ma'am" and "sir",  manners matter was the mantra of their formative years. If you should see or hear them out and about, know without doubt---they DO know better.



Children, whether in reality or only in my imagination, are perceived to be a reflection of  the  parent's parenting. My parents are exceptional (not perfect but great) and I was raised  on a firm foundation of loving discipline and built up with encouragement and positivity.  You wouldn't have always known that by my actions. Let's just say it probably looked like there was serious structural damage at times.

 
Today I was thinking about a passage in the Bible where  Jesus tries explaining to the Judeans that their lack of love for him came about because they listened to their father the devil.  I have been mulling over  those verses from the book of John and taking a look at myself, and the image isn't very flattering. I profess Christianity and yet still reflect more of the devil than of my Father, God of the universe, the Creator of all.


It was a scary realization.  Other's are seeing my actions, inaction, attitudes and demeanor. How do I measure up as a child of the King? What must the world in general and those closest to me think of my Heavenly Daddy based on what they see in me? 

Just as my parents have forgiven my many wrongs and still love me, just as I forgive and overlook the misdeeds of my own children and continue loving them, God still loves me. But I know there is a grave disservice in how I am representing the family of Christ.

Hopefully, in the not too distant future everyone will see be able to see my Father's traits mirrored in me. Then you can be certain I belong in a mansion not a stable.

Real Time Travel- Really

I am having a very good day! I have been time traveling with songs on the radio, I’ve been back in high school flipping a flag during a half-time show ("Owner of a Lonely Heart"). I’ve been to the day where my first-love and future husband first talked to me ("Centerfold"). I’ve been back into those carefree days of my early 20’s where it was dancing every night and helping out at the Spring City Café in Huntsville, Alabama ("The Joker"-not that I was in my 20's when that song came out ). I also went to a Kiss concert where I rocked and rolled all night to...can you guess..."I Want to Rock and Roll All Night".  I've been proposed to by the aforementioned first love ("Faithfully") and gone to my "Sweet Home Alabama", where the skies are so blue.

Not all my time traveling is so happy, happy, joy, joy.  There are those songs that make me cry and fall  apart too. Not today though, whoever was in charge of programming did an awesome job of picking only the ones that were sure to leave me positively peppy. I have no doubt I've given more than a couple folks cause to wonder what I am smiling about.

What is it about music that can so immediately evoke emotions and put me in a completely different place? I have not a clue but I do know there's not one iota of musical talent in these pipes of mine. The saying “can’t carry a tune in a bucket”, well that doesn’t even begin to cover my lack of ability. I still sing though. I sing out at church (sometimes), I sing loudly at home(when no one is around), I sing while driving (even when other people are in the car) and I’ve even caught myself or been caught by someone else singing out with the Muzak in stores. Usually, I don’t realize that the singing is not just in my head until someone looks at me a bit oddly, then I smile, shrug, and quickly leave the aisle.

If you remember the Carpenter's song "Sing", you know I really take those lyrics to heart. If you don't here it is.

I hope you get to journey to a happy place today.

Ewwww....Mom I Hate It

My girls are 12 and 14 or rather, ALMOST 13 and ALMOST 15.  Their clothing, music, and food choices are quite different than my own. In fact, I might venture to say RADICALLY different than my own.

Just as it did in my day, (back when there were no cell phones and dinosaurs ruled the earth) school picture day calls for something new to wear, as does a Friday night football game. Both of these events were scheduled this week. I know better than to pick anything out without a little input from at least one of the girls.  I've learned this the hard way, through a series of returns and unworn items. It was with some serious trepidation that I ventured out into the wonderful world of shopping with a teen yesterday. I really did think I had a workable plan and that the end result would be smiles, hugs, and thank you's.  First, I went to a trendy store where ALL the kids shop. Second, Allison was with  me and had been given the okay by Leah to do her choosing (she had to head over to soccer practice). Leah trusts Allison's fashion advice-even though they fight like cats and dogs over everything else.  A couple of weeks ago while shopping for shoes with Leah, she wouldn't choose sandals without sending a picture to Allison for her thumbs up.

Merrily, merrily,  with no doubts our purchases would please the younger girl, Allison and I left the store. Leah loves Elmo so a really cute Elmo shirt was a no-brainer.  Honestly, the girl tells me at least a couple of times weekly "I love Elmo".  Allison also found an orange shirt and a cute little patterned tank to wear underneath it.  The combination worked beautifully.

Well,  as you might imagine her reception of the shirts was not what I had expected.  With the  passionate displeasure only a preteen can identify and express so succinctly she let it be known we had failed her....miserably.  There was stomping of the feet, humphing sounds, and tears.

Only  adding to my confusion is how my choices for the girls can be so repulsive and yet somehow my own clothing, jewelry and shoes find a way to their rooms. Hmmmmmmmm.... it's a mystery.

How Friendly Is Too Friendly?

What's the politically correct response to finding out a spouse has "friended" (Facebook)  someone they used to go out with?  I have no answer to that question although, I can tell you my response was not Hallmark card pretty and it was pretty irrational.

 Now here's the thing, I know that I can trust my husband.  His actions don't show that he is planning to cheat, but they are an indication (to me) of a general lack of consideration.  In his defense, he accepts anyone who puts forth a friend request. Now for the prosecution's side, he seems to rarely consider how his words or deeds might affect me.


His efforts at consideration are a different story when it comes to other things.
For instance, when we stay at a hotel, he picks up his socks and towels. He also straightens the bed and room for housekeeping. Here his socks go straight to the floor beside the bed for me to pick up. He uses the same thinking at a restaurant putting the remnants of the meal on one plate and stacking all the dishes for the wait staff.  At home,  I stand alone in the kitchen cleaning up after each meal (unless we have guests-then he helps).  In all fairness, if I ask he is willing to help.



This certain "friend" of his commented on a family photo which is how I became aware of the situation. I ,with great poise and dignity, politely asked, "Isn't this the girl you went out with just before me?" (in my mind that's how it happened). In reality, it was more of an indignant barking of the question as my head spun round exorcist style.
Now,  I confess to searching for blasts from my past but never, never, would I ask to befriend one.  I am curious but not to the point of opening a window of communication.  Am I wrong to be upset?  Sparta sure thinks so. What do you think?

Hello World-I'm An Adult Now!!

My oldest son is 18 years old today.  Yes, it's a time of celebration and Ben is certainly thrilled. He couldn't stop talking about all the ways his life is changed by this magic number. He can register and then vote. (Fox's O'Reilly and Glen Beck are helping to shape his political views.) He can sign contracts, work past 10p.m., check himself out of school, work at a gas station, get a tattoo, buy tobacco products and purchase lottery tickets. Oh, and once he gets his class CP driver's license he can be out after midnight. The preceding is a list provided by Ben to help us grasp just how much his life will be altered.  He assured us that just because he can do any of these things doesn't mean he will do them. WHEW!! My hand immediately flew to my forehead,as I sighed with great relief.

So, now that we've determined what he can do the question becomes, what will he do? First we sat him down to have the talk; the "you still live under our roof, do you know what that means?" talk.  It was during that conversation we learned that to him 18 means since he is now considered by the government to be an adult, we(parents) are no longer required to provide for him and can kick him out.    Well,  alrighty then.  To Ben this just might cause him to abide by our rules because he fears the consequence of doing otherwise. To me it implies he has something motivating him to consider his choices  more carefully.  His realization struck me more as proof of his blossoming adulthood than any of the freedoms he now legally has.

This morning when I went to make sure my "adult" son had gotten out of bed, I realized that this very well could be the last birthday morning he gets out of his own bed here, in our home.  He is a senior in high school and has plans to join the Marines and leave out soon after graduation.  For all my blustering about  looking forward to losing the teen angst and drama  of the past few years, I've spent this morning boo-hooing over the "lasts" we're bound to go through in this season of our lives: last first day of school, last chances, last high school dances, last year of being a tax deduction.

 I remember the first time I let him cross a street without me, he looked back to where I stood and said "See,  I made it". The time  is soon coming when he won't be able to look back and find me there watching. When Ben steps out into the world, he'll be doing it with the love and support of his parents who hope and pray that he will be a God loving, productive and responsible member of society. I look at my 6 foot hairy man of a son and can still see the little-bitty wrinkled newborn he once was.   I guess it's okay to glance back as long as my eyes don't get stuck that way.

Something Spicy

How many spices and herbs have a home in your kitchen? I have lots. Some have moved with me couple of times, some I need to replace frequently because I use them so much. I came across a reference to spices in my bible time so I did a little research.  Curiosity, you know, it takes me to all kinds of places.

I didn’t realize that throughout history spices have been an important and valuable resource. Wars have been fought over them. Did you know that Long Island was won for England in a war over nutmeg? Black peppercorns were so valuable they were used as currency and worth their weight in gold. In fact several online resources said that Attila the Hun and the Visigoths demanded 3000 pounds of pepper for the release of Rome in 410 AD after it had been captured.

The value of a spice stemmed not only from  flavor but from  aroma and it's use as a medicine. In the bible the word “spices” is used 31 times. The first time they are mentioned is in Genesis chapter 37, they are being carried to Egypt by the Ishmaelites to whom Joseph is sold, and later in the same book by Jacob when he sends his remaining sons back to Egypt with spices to be exchanged for food during a time of great drought. In Exodus there were spices specified by God to be used for anointing oil and  fragrant incense used by Levite priests.  Directions  for creating these oils were provided by God himself. The Israelites were forbidden to replicate the formulas God provided because they were sacred.

Another mention of spices affirms their great value in biblical times.  They were used by the very rich and royalty in weddings to prepare the bride for her groom. Wealthy folks kept spices as treasures stored in storehouses, the same way they stored silver and gold. Spices were given as gifts. The Queen of Sheba gave a huge amount to King Solomon in Chronicles 9:9.

The wise men gave frankincense and myrrh to the parents of baby Jesus. Both were very prized and valuable. They were used in burial and myrrh was also used in the anointing of kings.
The women who sought to attend Jesus body at the tomb took burial spices. These spices were not used to stop or delay decomposition but were rather used to coat the body. This was done to prevent foul odors associated with a decaying body. How wild is it that spices are cited at both the beginning and ending of Jesus time on earth?

  In addition to references of spices in general there are specific references to individual spices. Cumin, cinnamon, nard, balsam (balm of Gilead), and saffron are some mentioned by name.

I know that just as each spice has a unique flavor and aroma. Each of us does too. Our talents, abilities, and personalities are as varied as anise and vanilla bean. I wonder if ,while we are out and about each day, the fragrance that wafts around us is a pleasant one? Are we acting as a balm that heals hurts or more like salt in open wounds? Are we aware of our value in the sight of God? We are so precious to him. He didn’t ask for pepper to secure our freedom, He sent His One and Only.
I want my life to have the qualities of spices in the bible. I want it to be worth it's weight in gold, soothing and healing, fragrant and pleasing. I want to do what Paul says in Ephesians 5:2

And walk in love, as Christ also has loved us and given Himself for us, an offering and a sacrifice to God for a sweet–smelling aroma.

 A sacrifice and offering brought before others with love, even when we don’t feel very loving. How sweet that smell must be to our God. In Revelation 5:8 when the Lamb opens the scroll we see  24 elders fall before Him each with a golden bowl full of incense. It tells us the incense is the prayers of the saints. Let’s get to praying and fill up those bowls with the choicest of spices.

The humorist ,Erma Bombeck, said, “Once you get a spice in your home, you have it forever. Women never throw out spices. The Egyptians were buried with their spices. I know which one I'm taking with me when I go. “  Do you know which ones you are taking with you, not only when you go………but as you are going?

Closure Is A Good Thing

There is a lot to be said for closure.  For over a year now, I have been dealing with an issue that has weighed heavily on my mind and heart.  It has caused me many sleepless nights and my poor husband has had to listen to me drone on and on playing a game of mental ping pong with myself while disseminating every minute detail of the possibilities.

Our last move made it possible to rekindle a friendship from several years ago. Everything appeared to be on the right track to move forward in the relationship.  Well, initially it did.  We shared meals, talked on the phone at least weekly, walked at the local track, and even went through a very intense bible study. Not only were we friends, our husbands were friends as well.

From my viewpoint, it all ended rather abruptly on her end. Although I continued to call and issue invitations, they were rebuffed and without any explanation as to why. After several months I gave up. The husbands remained close, but these men did not carry on the "feeling" conversations that we women would have. They played their games and then went home. I never knew what happened.

I theorized, worried, cried and was wounded by the lack of value I felt had been placed on something real to me. When we learned this couple would be moving to another state, I felt that there would never be any resolution.  I knew I should just let it all go(easier said than done).

An opportunity presented itself  just before their move and praise the Lord, I have closure. We (as a family) went to say good-bye and it was at that time, she told me why she had been avoiding me.  The unfortunate thing is she had some misguided notions that had led to her decision to end the friendship.  Things that she had speculated but that were completely untrue had caused her to distance herself.

It's a pity that rather than deal with her issues head on, they were allowed to fester and grow worse, much like an infection left untreated.  If only she had come to me with her concerns, if only I had questioned her about what had changed for her. Since I can't turn back time for a do-over I guess I'll  just try to keep in mind there is really only one "IF" in life and it comes between the "L" and the "E".
Maybe next time something of this nature happens, I'll be bold enough to address it.

The fact that she shared these things on the eve of the move didn't change a thing in our relationship. However, I am now able to let go of the hurt because it was acknowledged.  Closure is a good thing.

Where Did I Put Those Ding-Dongs?

I used to buy groceries once every two weeks.  I planned the meals I would prepare and the snacks we would need . I purchased the necessary items brought them home put them away and repeated the process two weeks later.   Things have changed.

These days I am buying more groceries and they are lasting fewer days. The influx of teen boys and girls(I mean young men and women) in addition to my own bottomless pits is wiping my bank account out  practically before the money is in.  Seriously in one weekend they went through three gallons of milk, all the cereal, three big boxes of Little Debbie snacks, an industrial size peanut butter, two loaves of bread, a case of ramen noodles, a gallon of tea per day plus too many sodas and chips to count. Completely wiped out.  Keep in mind these are just their snacks, I still prepare whatever meals need to be served while they are here.

For those of you who have  known me a while- you might recall the days when I longed for ours to be the house  where everyone would gather - so consider mine a cautionary tale.  Be careful of what you wish; you just might get it. Just kidding, I wouldn't have it any other way.

Now, I don't begrudge the eating and I do like that they hang out here. I do wish there was a little portion control.  Since I  recognize the absence of  connected frontal lobes (theirs not mine), I've started getting less stuff but doing it more frequently.  I also hide the food- in my closet, under a bed, and in many areas I would consider finding something to eat a bit odd.  They still find everything, it just takes them  longer.  The summer break was tough.  Kids were not only here on weekends but in some cases all week long, I came very close to taking out a second mortgage for groceries.

It's funny but I have to hide band aids too.  I haven't figured out the why to that one yet.

Favorite Tips for Around the House

I do not like bugs especially in they house, but no matter how clean I keep the kitchen or how often I take out the trash, somehow, someway, every once in a while they bring their creepy crawly selves right inside. Since I am not crazy about the idea of coating every surface of my home with chemicals and perhaps even having those chemicals reach the lungs of the two legged creatures skulking around while I exterminate I have sought out other methods of dealing with the critters that make their way inside.



As a mother of four I know there are times dishes, don’t make it to the sink; sometimes they don’t even make it to the kitchen. Even though the food left in bedrooms and under furniture has been the cause on more than one occasion for ants to trail into the house it’s not the only reason they come in. Sometimes weather has been the culprit either it has been too dry or too wet. Other times I have no idea why they come they just do. To get rid of them without pesticides, I use baby powder at their point of entry. The talc seems to be an effective barrier for preventing more ants from coming inside. Then cornmeal or grits (not the instant kind) are great weapons in the battle to do away with the ants; either of these grain products will swell inside the ants after consumption killing them. Once the problem is resolved , the ants can be deterred from returning by placing a few drops of peppermint oil on cotton balls and placing the cotton balls in known trouble spots. Be sure to refresh them periodically.


Another nuisance insect at my house has been the fruit fly. The pesky little gnat like flies are especially prevalent in the summer when I forget to throw out the bananas or tomatoes that have grown too ripe on the counter. The best way to get rid of them is with apple cider vinegar. Pour the vinegar into a bowl or wide mouth bottle, cover it with clear plastic wrap, poke holes in the plastic and secure it to the container with a rubber band to prevent the flies from escaping. I was amazed at how well this worked the first time I tried it. The flies breed in moist places so to prevent a re-infestation pour ammonia followed by hot water down the drains of your sinks.



One more thing I really hate is stains. We’ve had our share of those too. Red drinks, chocolate milk, mustard, ketchup, mud and blood, yep, I’ve had them all at one point in time. Try as I did and I assure you I did try REALLY HARD I walked away from several of them defeated and dejected. That was until I heard one of my favorite household hints ever- hydrogen peroxide and ammonia mixed in equal parts. The mixture has tackled every stain I‘ve encountered so far, effectively. Be sure to only mix it as you need it because it loses it’s potency after 24 hours. I’ve found that letting it set at least ten minutes before wiping or washing is enough time for it to do the job. On carpet I apply the solution, wait, then blot up as much as possible before using a wet cloth to scrub the remainder of the stain away.


What are some of your favorite household hints?

Summer Is Not Over

I know school is scheduled to start back next week and everyone is talking about how quickly summer has passed.  I just want to take a moment to remind us that summer is not over.  God schedules the seasons not the school board. 

No one says that spring is over when spring break ends. Fall doesn't begin and end with Thanksgiving break.  Why does poor summer get the shaft? It is ,after all, my favorite time of year.

I love early evening's pop-up thunderstorms,the smell of dirt as it drinks in the rain and the aroma of freshly cut grass mingling with smoke from fired up grills. I enjoy looking out at the lush green of full trees and the sparkling waters of a swimming pool. I appreciate walking barefoot in the yard and then performing the "hot sidewalk dance"  to get back into the cool house.

I like stepping out on the deck and hearing the different sounds as people work on various projects in their yards and gardens. There is almost nothing as pleasant as listening to birds sing while sitting outside with my morning coffee.

Summer beckons us to dream. It calls us to plan vacations. It tempts us to recall our youth and those lazy days where nothing was more important than our Coppertone(motor oil? butter? baby oil?) tans.

Fall has it's beautiful ever changing leaves; in the spring it's exciting to see the first blooms and buds as everything wakes from the long winter's nap but summer entices us with it's aromas, it's sounds, it's beauty, and it's freedoms.

These pleasures will not cease when the school bell rings.
Summer break may be ending but summer is not.

Thank You Harper Lee

 "'Mockingbirds don't do one thing but make music for us to enjoy. They don't eat up people's gardens, don't nest in corncribs, they don't do one thing but sing their hearts out for us. That's why it's a sin to kill a mockingbird.'" - Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird

In 11th grade AP English we were required to read what became my favorite fiction of all time,  Harper Lee's "To Kill A Mockingbird".   As an Alabama girl whose family name is Harper it was an obvious choice. I loved the characters, I loved the small southern town where it was set and of course the story itself of racial inequality as seen through the eyes of children.  Since that first required reading for Mrs. Palmer's class back in 1984, I have chosen to reread the book almost every year. Ms. Lee's life story has become as interesting to me as the novel. We know that although not autobiographical the story is somewhat based on her own early life.



The seeming reclusiveness of Ms. Lee and the fact that she published no other novels is intriguing.  As I understand it, she splits her time between Monroeville, Alabama where she lives with her 98 year old sister Alice (who still practices law) and New York City.  She doesn't participate in her hometown's yearly play based on her novel and is not prone to answer questions or give interviews about the book.  Her sister says that the book is only talked about in terms of business even between the two of them. When Ms. Lee does commit to public appearance it is without much fanfare. Her acceptance of the Presidential Medal of Freedom award from President Bush in 2007 was done without speech or a q&a session on her part.  Her recent run-in with a reporter from a British tabloid was par for the course, although Ms. Lee answered no questions her refusal was ,as always, gracious.



 I was delighted during the past school year that Ben was required to read TKAM.  I enjoyed being able to discuss it with him.  Finding common ground with a teenager is no small feat.  He did manage to destroy my 1964 copy along the way. It was at best in fair condition but the book had been in my possession for quite some time. I had purchased it at an antique book event back in the late 80's. I am thankful for Ebay and am watching the auctions to find another.  I am hoping that by some happy accident I happen upon a first edition that is under priced enough that I can afford it.



This year marks the 50th anniversary of the publication of "To Kill A Mockingbird".  Amazingly since it first came off the press it has never been out of print.  It is currently used in 70% of American schools and tops the list of books every adult should read in a survey of British adults. Because of the book's impact on me, I decided to write to Harper Lee to thank her for the book and for the hope I felt she provided  young southern women with literary ambitions.  I sent the letter to both her publisher in New York and to Monroeville, AL(I didn't have an address but assumed that as their most famous resident she could be found). I was absolutely thrilled when she responded not once but twice.  I have a lovely postcard postmarked New York City and a handwritten note from Monroeville. The responses were received six months apart each on a day when my world happened to feel as though it was falling apart. What wonderful timing!


My postcard is now laminated,framed and is useful not only for decorative purposes but extra credit in literature.  Allison will be reading it in two years, I hope the teacher accepts it again!

Frustration Level-CODE RED!

 Come back the form letter begged.  We have great service and great prices, we've missed you. Blah, Blah, Blah! Don't believe the tease. The offer was so enticing and came at just the right time. Just before it's arrival, I had seen an article that Direct-TV was suing Dish over dvr patent infringement and that Dish will cut service to all their dvrs if they lose.  I LOVE the dvr feature and that scared me a little.

I made the call.  I set the installation date. The technician arrived on the right day albeit two hours later than the four hour window they stated. Yes, he arrived but without the right equipment for our order.  He put the dish on our roof and left with a pledge to return the following day. That was three weeks and four missed installation appointments ago and an additional two times that he just called and said he would work us in.  I am beyond frustrated with these people.

After all that, I finally called to cancel the whole shebang.  Before the order could be terminated,  I had to speak with a "customer retention specialist".  The first question was "What can we do to keep you as a Direct customer?". My reply, "Ummmm, I don't know maybe your guy could have shown up any of the four times he officially was scheduled too".  

 On the first day, when the man was late for the appointment and then later when he said "You can trust me, I'll be back tomorrow to finish". I knew that I could not take him at his word and in fact had absolutely no real expectations that he would actually show. I have found people who feel a need to preface their statements with assurances of their honesty and trustworthiness are neither honest or trustworthy.

So what did I learn from this?  Direct TV= Evil.  No, not really.  My experience is limited to the one employee who was the face of Direct for me.  The impression he made was not only not favorable but in fact cost the company a two year contract. One customer lost, not a big deal but with this guy on board I'm sure we're not the first to cancel out. Sparta who is generally the kind of guy who never runs out of his give the guy a chance attitude and is always the kind of guy who is after the best deal got fed up. It takes a lot to frustrate Sparta and I should know because I can be very frustrating at times.

It has been said one negative comment has as much effect as ten positive ones and word of mouth is one of the most effective tools in advertising.  I have nothing positive to say about Direct now. The only face I can put with the company is this guy's (He told me he'd been with them for 10 years, I was going to cut him some slack if he'd been new.)

I found a verse from Proverbs that describes this employee's effect in the bigger picture:

Proverbs 26:10 "Lazy people are a pain to their employer. They are like smoke in the eyes or vinegar that sets the teeth on edge."      (The Message)

Oh well,  Dish is scheduled to come out today.  There's a knock now!!

One Mother Home Alone-A True Story

So, what do you call a mom of four whose children are away for a week? RELAXED!

I have cleaned house, and it has remained clean. I shampooed carpets and caught up on laundry. I have used the pool without fear of ridicule (the kids think my new swimsuit is hideous). I went to see a movie with a friend.(Knight and Day, very cute). I have caught up on some reading and some writing. I have sung quite loudly in the van to the songs on a station of my choosing.

It's also very quiet in the absence of those four blessings and the 101 people who file in and out the doors when they are home. I miss the laughter that fills the house when they are present. I also miss just knowing that all my little chicks are in the same nest at night. Being here alone for most of this week made me think of that Rockwell song from the 80's, " I always feel like somebody's watching me". I could become paranoid without much effort. There's no way I could make it as long as Tom Hank's did in his movie "Castaway" I don't think I could be satisfied talking to a volley ball for years on end. I need both parts of the conversation-the ears and the mouth. I would probably end up with multiple personality disorder just so I'd have company.


Tomorrow it ends. I have no doubt there will be arguing, complaints, and short tempers. I can't wait. I need to buy groceries sometime before then so they can tell me "We don't have anything good to eat". Ahhhh-good times.


Let the mayhem begin!




Rockwell-

Where's My BUZZ?

Woody and Buzz,  Sponge Bob and Patrick, Thelma and Louise, are all fictional best friends. Patti, Laura, Dee, Cheryl, Cyndi, and Dawn have been some of my very closest friends in adulthood.  Robin,  Annette, Heather, Berta, and Geanni are a few of the ones I feel had potential to be great friends but job changes and moves did not allow those relationships to be developed fully.

 The nature of my husband's job has required several moves by our family.  In fact, between December of 1999 and July of 2005 we moved four times living in three states. The frequent moving didn't lend itself to long term, in depth, let me bare my soul to you relationships. My children were younger and so the absence of friendships was felt but not dwelt upon. I do have many acquaintances and even feel a certain kinship with some of them but no BFF is to be found.

I always thought that once we were settled I would meet and connect with women or at the very least a woman with whom there would be a soul connection. I have also always believed myself to be good friend material.  I remember birthdays, try to listen with interest, share more positively than negatively, and am genuinely happy for the successes of others. REALLY.  Of the women I have met there are usually a couple of scenarios that play out:

                    1.  They are already entrenched in their female
                          relationships with little room  left for
                          new ones.(this is understandable what with
                          the work and family obligations already
                          vying for time too)
                    2.   They seem okay with making new friends             
                           but are only into it so much as the other person
                          is the one doing all the relationship work
                          (making the calls, issuing invitations, etc.)


We have been in our current home for five years the longest we have lived anywhere since that first move in '99.  One thing that has been bothering me is this last move brought us back to an area where we had lived from 00-02. We were gone for about four years but I did think it might be easier to connect since some of the groundwork was already in place. No such luck.   Of course, time and experience have changed all of our perspectives and needs. I know that I am in a different season of life now as are those who stayed here and we didn't go through those transformations together. For me to expect to pick up where we left off was  unrealistic.


 Facebook is a great way to catch up and keep up but there is only so much these virtual relationships can accomplish in the real world in real time. Sometimes I just want to reach out and touch someone as the old AT&T commercial said. Maybe an E-Harmony kind of site to match friends would help.

I would have my ad say something like MWF with teens and younger children, enjoys reading, discussing current events, has a strong faith in God, likes eating out, going to movies, today's country music and 80's rock,  loves shopping, laughing and day trips and worries how age is affecting her body and whether she has failed as a mother and would occasionally like to gripe about men. Seeks friendship of someone with similar interests who will not only accept support and encouragement but offer it as well.

Good Gifting

I love presents!!! I love to buy them; I love to receive them.


Unexpected ones are the best, but I don't knock the birthday and Christmas offerings. Unfortunately for Sparta, some of his gift attempts have been less than warmly received; e.g.- the sandwich maker(Christmas), vacuum cleaner (which he claims was not a gift but was somehow given to me on my 40th birthday), or the light up 10x magnifying mirror (Valentine's Day). I exchanged the sandwich maker for a pretty red vase and as for the other two ,well, let's just not talk about them.


When choosing a special something for someone, I tend to try and think of the individual's personality, as well as interests and hobbies of the recipient. I do not enjoy vacuuming or seeing the chin whiskers up close and personal. By no stretch of the imagination could I comprehend the thought process that brought Sparta to his purchases.


After what I considered several less than stellar gifts from my hubby, I took to giving not so subtle hints. I would make lists out with items from which he could choose. One of my lists suggested jewelry. Bless his heart, he said he didn't have money to buy me something so pricey. He had never heard of costume jewelry.


Now to brag on him, Sparta has hit a few home runs when it comes to picking things. When our oldest daughter was born, he brought a pair of diamond earrings to the hospital (unexpected); he gave me an amethyst and diamond ring when our second daughter was born (unexpected); there were ballroom dance lessons because he noticed I liked to watch Dancing With the Stars(unexpected) . It seems that when he is able to choose to give a gift out of a desire to give rather than some arbitrary obligation to give, I am always delighted with his choices.


I've recently been thinking of the gifts I wish God had given to me. The ones that might be obvious-musical talents, artistic abilities, or lots of money to support causes. I am guessing He knew I would not use them appropriately. I see myself more as a Madonna the entertainer rather than Madonna the mother of Jesus type. That I have been given this very breath is a gift not to be taken for granted and yet I know that I have not been grateful to the one who allowed it. My prayer is that I recognize not only ordinary gifts but also the unexpected ones; all with the knowledge that THE giver of good and perfect gifts knows what I need most.

Staples

  As a kid, I never understood pantry staples.  I was familiar with the small bent metal that kept my papers together and certainly didn't see any similarity between it and flour, sugar or oil.  Now all grown

the real deal

Do you realize how much we rely on fake?  Spray on tans(to look as though we've spent time outside), air fresheners created with chemicals (so our houses smell like apples, cookies, fresh linen, or rain), artificial plants, fingernails and sweeteners.  It's crazy.  Why is so much of our time and money devoted to fake when the real is available?

 Today I will bake something(with sugar not Splenda), wash clothes and spend some time in the sun. None of it virtually.

Don't Wash A Good Man Out of Your Hair

                
  I am going gray. I'd like to say I just noticed it; but in fact, it was more than ten years ago that the silver glinted in the sunlight reflected in my rear view mirror. At first I was a little confused and thought how neat it was that the blond of my childhood was suddenly making a reappearance. Alas, the mistake realized, Miss Clairol and I became good friends. No longer was it just for fun, now instead of blonding myself, I only wanted to be my natural color before my natural color became gray.


Because my mom is a hair stylist, paying for hair stuff had never been an issue and before the gray set in never a necessity. Time and distance does tend to change things a bit. It became a priority to deal with the graying on my own. Initially pulling them out myself worked. Later when the kids would ask how they could earn a little money I had one of them do it for me. They called it the silver mine. Now if I pulled them all, the problem would cease to be the gray and start to be the bald spot(s).

Sparta tells me he thinks gray hair is sexy. Whether he says this to save money or just placate me, I'm not sure. In any case after Alyssa, the girl who cut my hair, noticed a place on the back of my head with a good bit of gray that I'd missed, I had to seek help. Hair coloring help not mental help. I feel the need to clarify that a little.

Tonight, I realized how very much my precious husband must love me. He willingly put on the vinyl gloves and did the deed. Once he understood that the color should be applied to the hair and NOT the scalp he did a wonderful job. No doubt in my mind, that act was him putting his love in action and I appreciate it. I think he appreciates that it saved him close to a $100.

Lessons from a Tomato Plant

I love gardening (I use the term loosely). I enjoy being outdoors pulling weeds, mulching, the whole nine yards. Sparta told me he would till up a little spot so I could have a few vegetables this year. I bought the plants and waited. Now over two months later, I am still waiting. Since the plants were beginning to look a little sad in their tiny containers, I filled some Rubbermaid storage totes with potting soil and transferred them over.

My eight little tomato plants perked right up and are really pretty, but that won't last long there's not enough room for their sustained growth. Several years ago I put out a tomato plant that quite accidently thrived. It survived a late freeze. I learned a few things from that little plant. The first thing I took away from it was that even when it looks like we might be out for the count, there is still hope. After the freeze, the plant appeared completely dead but within a couple of weeks it had greened up near it's base.

The next thing I learned was that you can't just let a tomato plant grow anyway it wants. While I believed that any growth must be a good thing, I was wrong. It must be pruned in order to produce the healthiest and largest fruit. There are side stems, also called suckers, that will deplete the primary stem of nutrients so that it will not have many tomatoes or the ones it does grow will be smaller and less tasty. It really bothered me to cut the suckers off; it felt weird to harm something that seemed healthy. However, by keeping the plant free from this growth in unwanted areas, it was able to absorb more of the sun and make more sugar for the fruit. How amazing is that? All that puts me in mind of how God works in my life. Even though it might appear that I am thriving and growing sometimes that new growth is just a sucker that needs to be pruned. The choices, some of which seem good, may be taking me in a direction that God never intended for me to go.

One last thing with the plant, I found myself able to pick tomatoes from my deck. The deck was about ten feet above the ground and the plant grew to be over twelve feet tall. Never had I seen such a tall plant before then and never since then have I seen another. It produced close to 100 tomatoes and didn't break from the weight. I had trouble finding enough people to take those plump red things off my hands so that they would not be wasted. God used that plant in my life to teach me lessons in unexpected ways. I understand more about producing good fruit and the necessity of pruning. I understand that even though there are some tough and often surprising circumstances in life, times when it appears hopeless, there is hope. I learned that God can take something weak  and give strength that is beyond understanding.

Here's the real kicker in the whole tomato plant experience, I don't even eat tomatoes.

Unexpected Adventure- The Bass Pro Shop

 Sparta's new boss told him that part of his management improvement plan is for Sparta to hit golf balls during lunch once a week (yes, he was serious). Of course, Sparta needed new drivers and the fine folks at the Macon Bass Pro Shop pointed us to the Lawrenceville store for golfing equipment. So last night off we went- without directions, without the Tom-Tom. Sparta "remembered" how to get there from the one time he passed it about 5 years ago.  After 90 minutes in Atlanta traffic, and 20 minutes of not knowing how to get to the store once we exited the interstate we saw it- the illustrious big green fish atop the building. 

I am not an outdoorsy kind of woman and Bass Pro Shop is not on my list of top ten stores to browse but last night I loved it.  Wesley went with us and it was his first time there. As we entered he was rendered momentarily speechless.  His eyes got big and his mouth dropped open, then with awe in his voice he said, "this is EVERY boy's dream".  The rock wall, the arcade, the educational aquarium, the fishing equipment, the boats--everything but golf gear. We spent some time looking at the boats and imagining how much  quality family time could be spent aboard one. Never mind that we haven't been to a lake in 10 years or that the payments quoted spread out over twelve years almost doubling the final costs of the $23,000.00 model. As we left the store, Wesley said, "this is the best day can you bring me here everyday".  He certainly was not upset to leave the store without finding the thing we had gone to find or with frustration over drive time and being lost for a bit.

We didn't come home with golf clubs, we didn't come home with the 24 person pontoon boat.  We did come home with each other and some very good memories.    

                       Like the old Rolling Stones song says-

                         oh, you can't always get what you want 

                         oh, you can't always get what you want,

                         but if you try sometimes  you just might  find

                         you get what you need

What we needed was time together and a few laughs.  Thank you God for my family and unexpected joy.

On Motherhood

Mom I need.....a new swimsuit, field trip money, gas money, stuff for my project that is due tomorrow.  Mom what's for dinner, do we have band-aids, can I go, will you take me, where are my shoes?  Endless needs, endless questions. As mother's day weekend approaches I am not sentimentally reflecting on the glories of motherhood.  Nope, not me. I am looking forward to the day when dishes are not growing mold in the dark corners of bedrooms that look like they should be declared hazardous waste areas. I am looking forward to finding my jewelry, toiletries and shoes in the places I left them. I am looking forward to fewer eye rolls and more civilized conversations.  If I never pull another pair of dirty socks out from the couch or clean any of a variety of bodily fluids out of carpet again I will not be saddened.

A friend recently celebrated the end of an era. After eleven and a half years her home is now teen free. When Wesley turns twenty our time in teendom will total 15 years consecutively and I don't even want to know the concurrent number. I love my children and cherish all the precious memories that have come because of them. I know that being a mother has made me a better person it was either become more patient and understanding or become a convicted felon.  I think I made the right choice.

Brett Michaels and Beth Moore

In my big hair days, I went to many concerts.  Most of them in the hard rock genre.  Poison, Aerosmith, Motley Crue...you get the idea.  Most of the concerts were general admission and tickets were only about $18, so we who lived from ramen noodle to ramen noodle could afford to go. It was a fantastic time.
My best friend and I had a method for getting up to the stage and we were certain that Slash and Vince made eye contact. Ahhh.....the good old days. Now that method was to look for gaps in the crowd particularly within groups of guys and then shimmy right through. If it was a tough crowd you might need to use an elbow on occasion.

This weekend I had opportunity to attend a Beth Moore conference with about 10,000 other women. I never would have believed those skills would be necessary in a group of Christian women but I kid you not,  the desire to be up close and personal with Beth was apparently enough to cause a few women to lose their religion. There was pushing and shoving and even  a few line breakers. One woman fainted?? as her husband stood near holding her purse and looking quite nonplussed. Fortunately, she was okay and immediately escorted inside to a seat---front row center stage. You tell me was it for real?

My sister, Tammy, and my daughter, Leah,  and I got there really early and secured a spot first in line at one of the entrances. After we had been standing in wait for three and a half hours, one woman had the audacity to maneuver her way up and try to get in before us.  As she engaged the person who would be taking our tickets in conversation, she planted herself firmly to our right with the intention of going in first.  Being that I have experience in that type of behavior I recognized it straight away and stood in front of her, both elbows out making comments that she no doubt could hear. She was wrong but I was too. Neither of us exhibited the attitude of Christ. Beth managed to inspire and excite in spite of us.

Now you might be asking yourself what on earth can this have to do with Brett Michaels. Well, when we got back from the conference I read about his brain hemorrhage and saw that he was in critical condition. I hated it because I've always enjoyed his music. Sometimes my train of thought jumps from track to track and this was one of those times. I started thinking about the Poison concert specifically and the number of people who were and still are so enthralled by his celebrity. So instead of just saying "aww that's too bad"  I began to pray for him and hope that this would be the beginning of something wonderful for him, that a near death experience would bring him to know the Father and Son and to glorify His name. Can you imagine the testimony his life would be.

Churches Should Have ICU's

Each Sunday morning I attend a great Sunday school class with women I adore.  It never ceases to amaze me what each of us is going through  or has gone through.  We are a diverse group of women, some married, some divorced, some mothers, some emptynesters. Believe me when I say we have some issues.  Some of us have not healed from past hurts and others of us are freshly wounded. My point in this is that we have a relationship with Jehovah-Raphe, the Lord who Heals. We are blessed and believe me, we know it. 
My concern is for those who don't know Him. When they visit the church broken and bleeding do they find comfort and care?  How intimidating must it be for someone who is seeking something, to walk into a class of those who seem to have it together.
I wonder if our classes were named things like "Wounded and Walking", "Women in Need", "Hope Is a Four Letter Word", "Finding Happiness Where You Are with I AM"  or something else along those lines, if maybe more people could let their brokenness show instead of pretending to have it altogether. Would we touch more lives?

I have heard so many people say things like when I get it together I'll come back to (or start attending) church and I can't go to church, what would people think of me.  It shouldn't be that way.  Our churches should be like hospitals.  Places where you seek help when things seem the worst. A place where you can see, hear and feel the love of God and for God. A place of hope, a place of rest for the worn out soul a respite from the world.  I get the feeling that many churchgoers go there with the attitude that it is more like a spa day. You know something nice to do for oneself- have a little fellowship, detox from the workweek, or maybe even be inspired.  I have done that very thing myself upon occcasion. I hope to be more aware from now on of "why" I am there and not of "what" I am there.

Uh-Oh It's Politics

Today I need to rant. I am sick of hearing that universal healthcare is a "right".  Our constitution does not speak of universal rights, but of individual ones.  We are, as the Declaration of Independence says endowed by our Creator with certain unalienable rights "life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness".
Nowhere in the bible does God list these rights, He gives commands and responsibilities but not rights. Those which He gives are not for His own benefit but they are beneficial to us. 

 Back in the day when our country's forefathers went about establishing  the framework of this nation two books were the primary source of reference "The Bible" and "Blackstone's Commentaries on  the Law".  Those two titles  were the first and second best-selling books of 1775 according to the Fiedor Report in an article titled "Those Unalienable Rights" on 2/23/2003.  Our rights are taken from Blackstone's not the bible. Blackstone in Chapter One of Book One spoke of the absolute rights of individuals being the right to life, liberty and property.  When the rights are further explained, we understand them to mean.

LIFE -- The Right of Personal Security: "This right consists of a person's legal and uninterrupted enjoyment of his life, his limbs, his body, his health and his reputation." Herein can also be found your right of self defense.




LIBERTY -- The Right of Personal Liberty: "This consists in the power of locomotion, of changing situation, of moving one's person to whatever place one's own inclination may direct, without imprisonment or restraint, unless by course of law." We find this right protected, to a limited extent, within the body of our Constitution, and further guaranteed within the Bill of Rights.


PROPERTY -- The Right of Private Property: "This is the third absolute right, and consists in the free use, enjoyment and disposal by a man of all his acquisitions, without any control or diminution, save only by the laws of the land."

Mr. Fiedor also says in the article,
     

 "There is, of course, a caveat here: As members of society, we are also required to respect these rights in all others. Therefore, the most important reason we empower governments to make and enforce laws is to insure that everyone respects the rights of others.

Towards this end, the body of our Constitution was carefully crafted by the Founding Fathers to allow the central government only certain enumerated powers. Although it may not seem like it today -- with our hundreds of thousands of pages of imposing laws, rules and regulations -- the powers of the federal government were designed to be few, and the freedoms of citizens were intended to be many.
Because of the lack of vigilance on the part of the American public, this ratio of government powers to personal freedom has recently reversed. We can probably recoup many of our unalienable rights again. But folks, it's going to take some effort from all of us. Bureaucrats are not about to relinquish their control over us without a lot of kicking and screaming."

None of the rights granted in the delaration, nor expounded upon in the Constitution's "Bill of Rights" are contrary to the commands/responsibilities set forth by God. However, they are personal freedoms for which many men and women have died in order that their loved ones and descendants benefit from them.  I loved this statement from missiontoisrael.org 

Demanding rights is a confession of slavery to the one from whom those rights are petitioned. A right is a debt. Every United States citizen who looks to the Constitutional Republic to grant or recognize his rights is acknowledging the government’s sovereignty above Yahweh’s sovereignty:

The emphasis on human rights demands the rejection of Divine Revelation in favor of human legislation. Man thinks he is capable of legislating rights. Human legislation seeks to supplant God and make statutes in areas that only God can regulate. And the rule of iniquity is framed into law. The actual trade that is made in this deal is the exchange of true freedom for human bondage. This bondage is then called freedom…. Man’s fiat law is then made into an instrument of rights. Man is presumed to be sovereign instead of God in a doctrine of rights. Human rights is a false doctrine that seeks to make man the lord of all. The end result is the rule of rights rather than the rule of law.

We are being held hostage by the government.  The very government that should be "by and for the people".
Almost 40% of our household's combined income is going to the government for programs many of which I would not choose to support as an individual. What's wrong with this picture is that the belief in corporately held "universal rights" has upended my ability to give to causes and people to whom I believe I am called to support.  This is not the America our founders envisioned, this is the bondage they fled for freedom's sake.
Hoooo......I feel better now.



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http://www.foxnews.com/politics/2010/04/15/marine-says-hell-continue-post-tea-party-facebook-page/

To Botox or Not Botox, That Is the Question

My bathroom counter is chock full of chick stuff. I have wrinkle filler (bondo for the skin-spackle it on, even it out and paint over), moisturizer, pore minimizer, exfoliating cleansers, lip plumpers, and a make-up guaranteed to defy my age.  I have tooth whitener, lotion for younger looking skin and a root touch up wand for my hair, which has not been it's natural shade since age 14. I could go on and on....  I spend a small fortune yearly in maintenance.

I went to a med spa a while back and had a skin analysis with their VISIA digital photo machine.  I was quite pleased to learn that I have fewer wrinkles than 85% of women my age (42). YAY ME!! I attribute this in large part to some of the best beauty advice my mother ever gave me.  She said "Always wear sunglasses, even when it's cloudy.  Squinting causes eye wrinkles".  Even though my signs of aging weren't awful, there are a couple of spots I'd like tweaked a bit(i.e. the angry mom furrow between my eyebrows and the parentheses that have their place but not on my face).

I tried talking to my husband, Sparta, about this but he was afraid I'd turn out like Nancy Pelosi. So without telling him I scheduled it and just like most of my haircuts, he didn't notice a difference. I told him about three weeks later so he would know that appearance wise it was not a big deal.

The doctor told me that upkeep would be required in four to six months.  It depends on how long it takes a person's body to metabolize the toxin.  Botox happens to be one of the few things that you can do where a slow metabolism works to your advantage.  The time has come for round two. So, I asked my husband last night if he would get me Botox injections for Mother's Day.  He became a little flustered and told me "You are playing a game you can't win".  While that is true, I still want to play, at least a bit longer.

There is no doubt vanity has it's part in my desire, I want to look my best. I want to look my best not only for me but for Sparta.  His eyes are the only ones I want to find me attractive and if I can maintain a youthful appearance with a little help, what's wrong with that?  I have been attempting it for years with pots of lotions and potions.

I am keeping my fingers crossed that there's a med spa gift certificate in my future.

                               

The idea is to die young as late as possible. ~Ashley Montagu