I am so beyond thrilled to be picked for Show Us Your Awesome @ Momma Made it Look Easy. Thanks, Jennifer! If you have never been there, Go! Now! Jennifer blesses me every time I go there.
Today is an historic day. I heard someone say, " I think people will always remember where they watched William and Kate get married." Or something long those lines.
I wonder if a lot of people won't because they will think, "Some historic thing went on in some other country right around the time I lost...
A.) my home."
B.) my family."
C.) everything important to me."
I was tempted to think of this as, "the day after Small Fry's surgery." I wasn't planning to watch; I was captivated from the moment the tv flashed on. The very first image we saw was that of a lone Kate gliding down the aisle.
I caught my breath.
Everything changes.
In this moment.
No longer who she once was;
not yet all she would become.
Loved and supported by a 'great cloud of witnesses,'
She could but walk alone.
Her bridegroom awaits.
To identify with her.
Is anyone seeing this?
I'm still not breathing.
WE are the bride.
In every wedding.
Meant to show this.
One day to place our hand in that of the King.
To take the title and position for which He has prepared us.
Last night, a television show called "The Voice" debuted on NBC. The premise: Judges have their backs to the contestant as s/he sings. Based on the sound of the voice alone, judge/coaches decide whether to ask the person to join their team. Then they turn around to see the performer.
The judge/coaches are famous singers representing a variety of styles and genres. No 'also-rans' or 'B-listers'. It was great, and yes, I let my girls stay up until 11:00 eastern. I was so glad I did.
Did you see them? Did you think of us? Did you think,"Ooh, I am gonna get an earful on the blog in the mid-afternoon tomorrow?"
It has nothing to do with his talent or his selection of coach Cee Lo Green (of "Forget You" fame).
When he popped out of the studio and landed on his mom and dad, Carson Daly looked on for only a moment before he invited himself into the hug and declared, "I want to be in this family".
What family is that, Carson?
The adoptive family. The one with the kid who calls himself a nerd and goes out and follows his dream. The family who grab each other and hold on when they share their joy. The family who are not fooling anyone into thinking they are bio.
Now, I know Carson probably loves his mom to death. He was just overcome for a moment.
Just so you know...there was a bit of fist bumping round the living room.
Monday nights, my husband takes the kids and goes out for a few hours and I cherish the time. Like, seriously. Clock out. Watch TV, Eat, and sit. No refereeing, no wish granting; generally, no speech of any kind. I do this in lieu of drug abuse a massage.
Yesterday, about 3:20 5:30 in the afternoon, I was getting pretty excited about feeding them and having them standing on the front porch when Daddy's car turned into our street. One of my beautiful daughters said, "I hope this storm doesn't..." blah blah blah. I looked out the kitchen window. It was gray, but not gray enough to keep me from sitting on the porch with a book and a drink per schedule.
In ten minutes the wind was blowing so hard I decided to put on shoes and save my husband's team logo flag that hangs out all year 'cause he loves them. By the time I got there, The wind was blowing such that I thought I might get knocked off my stupid porch and, ironically, still lose Mickey's @#$% flag.
I spent the next few minutes herding children and pets into interior spaces without commenting on the weather. The girls had unplugged everything. Mickey had called and said he would leave the office when he thought he would be able to do so safely. I asked someone to get the TV on. She knelt next to a window and the wind gusted up. I told her to come out of the corner and we would use the radio. The EBS was ending with...."persons who are outdoors should take shelter."
No kidding?
In under 20 minutes, it was all over. They all left as usual. I did not get to sit on my soaking wet porch. They called about 35 minutes later to say that they were almost there. And then again in about 15 to say their activity was canceled since power was out in the area and they would be returning home (with the milk I had requested.).
There was one fatality nearby where they were going. The city is severely affected this morning by road closures and city crews removing debris and restoring downed power lines. This morning, we didn't get the TV on until about 7:30. Al Roker said, "[Our City], [XX] was probably the hardest hit." Then he stammered something about, "Oh, I guess we are not covering that." The local news stations, which, let's face it, live and die for the opportunity to cover something, anything, unusual. Were silent.
I am joyfully anticipating the return of "Mom's Night Off", next week.
I don't know if you have seen this link to Home Depot's Retool Your School, (voting closed on Friday), but the above photo is taken on a campus that was included in the voting, but alas, did not win. I would encourage you to follow this project and vote for your nearest school next year.
Happy Wednesday before Easter. I hope your family is able to enjoy this week if you celebrate Passover, Easter, Earth Day, 89er Day, or just the arrival of the Sunday Times.
Without going into a long whine, I will say; our family has taken another shot to the jewels. The temptation is to throw a pity party. The BIGGER temptation is to let the bitterness wash over me like a wave. To indulge in claiming my right to my anger.
Can I keep the temptation from coming? No.
Can I, this one time, choose to stand? Yes.
I am standing. For today.
Another day, I may be crushed (Another day, I will wallow around on the floor whining and putting my sneakers on the sofa and looking at God with one eye to see if He is appreciating my drama.)....
That was yesterday. Today, picture me, belly down. On the floor. One eye peeping... to make sure the Father is still aware. I know what I am supposed to do. but it is more than I am made of to hold back my feelings. Like a three year-old. When I hurt, I say, 'OW'. Even though, I know... Healing is coming.
But do not let this one fact escape your notice, beloved,
that with the Lord one day is like a thousand years
and a thousand years is like a day.
The Lord is not slow about His promise, as some count slowness,
but is patient toward you, not wishing for any to perish
but for all to come to repentance.
2 Peter 3:9 NASB
This post is being linked to Mama Kat's Writer's workshop...which is another good place to be. And I am sharing my awesome with Jennifer @Momma Made It Look Easy.
Dear Miss Pollen,
Thank you for bringing us the dogwoods and the redbuds and the oaks, pears, and maples. Thank you for cooperating with the bees. The car wash guy thanks you, and the allergist thanks you. We are so grateful for all the hard work and provision. I look forward to getting plowed on Zyrtec. My friends look forward to that as well. They think it's funny. I don't really.
Can't wait until next year.
Maggie S.
If you subscribe or follow any bloggers groups...like SITS or Blog Her or I-don't-know-what-else, the questions are out there, right now: Have you been to a blogging conference? Are you going to a blogging conference? Which one? What kind? How Many? Whose?
I would like to attend one. The blog has become a thing. But it is tangled up in the fence.
I love to crack wise. When I was 10, I wanted to do Andy Rooney's job. Yes, he has been doing the exact same thing all this time. Yes, there may be people reading this blog who weren't even born yet.
I thirst to share the truth with those whom life has bumped like a Dodgem car (Is there a worse carnival ride?). I hunger to deal the truth with people who feel that truth bearers have let them down or held back the best parts for themselves.
These drives don't seem compatible.
When I opened up my Y*hoo mail this morning's headlines were these:
[Nearby Town] library expansion eyed
How exciting! My husband's firm gets a shout out on the front page!!! But I have no time to enjoy it because the next headline is:
Racist sign across from [Area] School sparks outrage
Yes. You read it right. This is a headline in 2011. The sign actually used the 'n' word, and the comments on the story actually defended the creator of the sign. In 2011. Which was, Ironically followed by this one:
Annual [State] prayer breakfast is Thursday
Really? Just who, exactly is going to be praying? And for what? Mercy, I hope.
This is not okay. Yet here I am. With this blog. And the truth. I really don't know what I am supposed to do. Or I do, and I don't want to think about it. I might throw up. I am not brave enough.
In the discussion of irony and the interest of a certain type of "journalistic integrity" (I love a good oxymoron in the morning), I feel that it is also necessary to point out that Sonic did the something similar to me the day before.
Sonic Sign: 398,929 different drink combinations
Me: May I please have a Cherry Dr.Pepper Limeade? Sonic Lady: A Dr. Pepper? What size? Me: No, I'm sorry. A Large Cherry Dr.Pepper Limeade? Sonic Lady: What? Me: A Cherry. Dr. Pepper. Limeade. Sonic Lady: Just a minute.(leaves me hanging) Sonic Lady: O.K., we can do that.
This lady was clearly old enough to have gotten a drink at Arnold's Drive-In a drugstore fountain (where I ordered my first CDPLM), obviously considered this to be combination 398,930. And therefore not permitted. Thank goodness for the person with the calculator who informed her that it was within the scope of the 398,929 claim. And therefore did not involve her personal liability, in the event that the customer received the drink as ordered.
The man-child who delivered my drink pointedly announced to me the delivery of my "Dr Pepper with cherry and lime." With a raised eyebrow.
It was delicious.
But sometimes I just want a drink with the good ice in it. Without a side of crap.
We live in a neighborhood with a lot of beautifully restored older homes. Some of the homes have not yet been restored and are still rental properties. Sometimes a neighbor forgets they just got out of jail and they trip and fall and land in someone's house they don't know and take their things without asking.
Oops.
Sometimes the Wii, sometimes shampoo, sometimes a little fried chicken from the fridge. But it was just an accident. They thought they were going in their own back window. These places all look the same from the alley.
I suppose it is needless to say at this point, but we have an alarm system.
Several days ago, I paid the bill.
Yesterday, I received a call from a collector.
I had to fax them a record of the transaction from my bank. BECAUSE THEY HAVE NO RECORD OF MY PAYMENT.
They are sorry. They work with computers and sometimes...they just don't know why, but it does happen.
I will have a response when they are good and ready in about a week.
SO.
To sum up.
The alarm company, whom we pay to protect us from thieves, took our money and is not showing it on our account.
Whew. After all that good work yesterday, I need to just relax and get random. I think it will help me refresh and get back on my feet. I am not linking or going anywhere. I am just kicking back with my wadded up tissues and an unsweet iced tea and shooting off my trivial and unrelated thoughts in no particular order.
I wonder if caffeine loses its buzz if the tea is a day or two old? I was really sleepy yesterday and drank some tea in the afternoon. I still wanted a nap. Not very scientific. I don't care enough to research it.
Tried a new recipe for Carne Asada last night. The angels sang.
That picture on yesterday's post? Why yes. Yes, I am standing on the roof of my house.
I wish there was a place you could go to relax and write and sleep and sit in silence for free. That wasn't the park or the library.
The libraries in my town offer a semi-rumped collection and are where the homeless go to get in out of the weather.
My city is known nationwide as being an exceptional place to be homeless. Homeless "Ministries" in other cities will put homeless persons on the bus and send them here. Not. Making. This. Up.
Small fry is afraid of the washer and dryer. I have been trying to encourage him that they aren't that bad and I got to listening and they are darned loud. Now I am afraid of them.
Has anyone else noticed that Angelina is no longer the 'main thing' on the supermarket check-out magazine? I hope it is not too soon to hope her 45 min (or I thought we just got 15, but maybe it just SEEMS longer 'cause I'm tired of her) is about up. Anyone ever notice she was just someone you'd heard of until she slept with another gal's husband? Here Angie. If he will cheat with you, he will cheat on you.
(Brad? If you are afraid to leave her cause she will cut you...watch the movie Sleeping with the Enemy then contact me here at the blog and one of my followers will help you form a plan.)
Jen? It looks like things are fine with you. No matter what the magazines say, I think your hair is more manageable since you washed that man out of it and you can afford to fulfill your own every whim, up to and including the best therapy money can buy... Keep going to the beach in the daytime and clubbing at night. And unplugging your cell phone charger for the environment.
Can anyone explain:
Why I'm so scared of our ice cream truck? Is it that the guy in the passenger seat looks like he has just been beaten up? Is it the creepy music? Or the pause every few bars in which a woman's voice shouts,"HELLO?" Is it because a popsicle costs $4 or because I think if you are out of oregano, he can sell you that, too?
Why isn't there a whole restaurant devoted to cold cereal?
To my son that it is not a handle?
To my daughters that little boys don't know it isn't a hand rest?
the weak economy to whomever produced the fashion segment on the morning show featuring a $400 handbag. They called this budget friendly. They didn't refer to investments.
the concept of delayed gratification to an 8th grader.
I am going to take some ibuprofen. Maybe someone ought to call later this afternoon in case I am having a neurological event.
Last week, I wrote a post about having my burdens carried away. I should have been more specific. Some huge burdens were carried away, but Jesus and I were, at that time, yet to do business on something. He took away those burdens and refreshed me to make room for dealing with this. I have been holding onto something since September. The LORD and I haven't been silent with each other about it, but I have a had a desperately difficult time relinquishing it to Him.
I hate when people over-use the word "journey" when they mean the long process of doing things the right way, rather than choosing to anesthetize themselves with indulging their momentary reaction, the quick fix. It is not a journey. It is life. Real growth and maturation doesn't stop to indulge its flesh in the delight of "it feels good, right now". It perseveres to real strength.
Other than a panicked email to many friends, hoping someone would pray or stop the situation that was rapidly spiraling out of control, I have not indulged the desire to let loose.
I have not demanded justice. Or recognition (for the fact that I tried to communicate and was repeatedly ignored altogether, or told that things would be done the other person's way).
I was abandoned, blamed, lied to, lied about, harassed, and judged by a jury that possessed no facts.
My husband took over my cause. Things continued to spiral. He called in others for accountability, including the Pastor and an Elder in our church and his wife, and a co-worker of the person acting in this fashion. The harassment didn't stop. The spewing hatred didn't stop. The intimidation didn't stop.
Ultimately, an email passed about which my husband, the pastor and our friends, came to the mutual decision that I should never see the contents.
I haven't told my story until now because I am protecting people. The person who treated me this way is a hero to a lot of people. She is known, literally all over the world, as a great humanitarian. She is a religious leader. People look to her for answers. I haven't told my story, because I have felt that people will side with her, because she is big and important and I am nobody. Yeah, that is immature. I get it.
In order to get me to do things her way... she told people that she really didn't understand what was going on. Would they please contact me and tell me how much she just wants to help? She went on the other blog and located names she recognized from a Yaho* group and contacted a few of them (and me) as though she were another person (or she had a person help her) and could they please send along any information about what was going on with me. The information obtained went to further abuse through e-mail, Skyp*, and the Yaho* group.
One of the last communications from her said, "I thought we were friends."
Um, no. There is mutuality in friendship. This was me serving you. You controlling me. When I balked, it was you hurting me into compliance. Telling others half-truths and whole lies about me to get them to support you against me. Friendship has a definition and this is not it. ( I wonder if this is why my girls' middle school crap battles weary me so).
...We were talking about "letting go".
I am letting go.
...letting go the pain (of losing out on my dream in order to do what is right).
...letting go the fear of the worst case scenario (if willing to do this today, what will someone be willing to do in several months without getting help for their un-dealt with grief and rage?).
...letting go the false feeling of power of not letting anyone know what really happened (Duh, was I even paying attention?).
...letting go the desire to have people think I have it all together (and that this doesn't anger and frighten me everyday).
...letting go the selfish pride (that says,"I am not telling my side,so you can't use it to keep smearing me." If folk hate me for the truth, historically, I am in EXCELLENT company).
...letting go the flashbacks.
...letting go waiting for someone to ask me my side.
...letting go the waiting for a human to stand with me in front of the whole world; while the whole world stands with her. In all my life, I have let the opinions of humans be my god. Yeah. It is not a bench up there. It is a throne. I am letting go of the love I think I need from people. Even Mickey. Even my kids. Even my parents. Even Chantele. Even Robyn or Phyllis. Even Beth. Even you.
There is only One love I need.
Only One opinion that counts.
Only One.
Yes, I am afraid.
Yes, this will be tested.
So, what.
Thanks, Jennifer and SITS for being poised on the day the last straw fell.
*this comes from a line in a fairly old song by Ken Medema called "Moses". In which Moses has to open his hand and drop his staff (which was everything...like you giving up your cell phone) to be able to receive the power God had to impart to him. He actually says , "Throw It Down." I thought that sounded confrontational in today's vernacular.
Now, this is just me. Usually, it comes down to less than seven days before the holiday and I pull another one out of my... Hat. This Easter will be different. Due to changed circumstances, I am pretty sure I know what we are doing this year. Already.
I know.
What in the world?
I am celebrating that baskets are filled. There will be no last minute sneaks to the "five and dime" this year. There will be no dramatizing over wardrobe(maybe shoes, but not overall). Naturally, there will be some hair stuff, in order to avoid a repeat of this...
...enough said?
We have people coming for lunch. This is where blogging lays a bit of the guilt trip on me. I feel like I have to refinish all the furniture, make a tree with pastel colored leaves with favors hanging, and decorate cupcakes, hold a community Egg Hunt in my yard, take pictures, enter them in contests and...
I am not in that league. My grandmother made the same menu for Thanksgiving for the first 30 years of my life, then my Aunt took over. I can make it and my girls are beginning to help. We don't innovate. Tradition is really about repetition, isn't it? I mean wanting to repeat it because it says, "Home," or "Family," or "Holiday", to you. Right?
As you have probably guessed, where I come from, Easter = Ham (like Jesus would have eaten that), but the rest is a blank canvas. The only other thing I know for sure is this:
Cucumber Salad
1 c. Mayonnaise or Miracle Whip
¼ c. sugar
4 t. vinegar
½ t. dill weed
½ t. salt
4 medium cucumbers, peeled and thinly sliced
3 green onions, chopped
In a large bowl, combine mayonnaise, sugar, vinegar, dill, and salt if desired; mix well. Add cucumbers and green onions; toss. Cover and chill at least 1 hour. Yield: 8 servings.
Oh...and there will be unsweet tea.
What is good for Passover or Easter at your house?
A week ago today, I attended this conference that is for the purpose of giving encouragement to those who serve in church leadership. There was a lot of prayer, and a lot of good encouragement.
