Enthusiasm Socks

Faith Storm

2012-03-19T23:26:00.000-05:00

Come sit on my porch

Listen to the thunder with me

We’ll listen to the chimes

And shiver in the stormy breeze

We’ll sip a cold one

Warming to the subject of past

Wounds scabbed and healed

Now faded, no going back

Watch the water roll

Ripping out in angry waves

Chain reaction flows

To slowly dying rage

Then breathe the night deep

Looking out to the billion stars

Smell hope on the wind

And imagine a hand so large

Crushing all worry

Uncertainty, fear and doubt

Holding His children

Protecting from lightning bolts

I was doing the usual get ready for bed routine tonight and decided to post on my sweet friend's Caring Bridge page. I made a random comment that turned into late night inspiration. There is a storm brewing tonight. I'm currently sitting in the dark except for my screen and a nearby candle. Listening to my wind chimes and the wind. Enjoying the breeze until it slammed my porch door shut.

It occurs to me that my sweet Darcie is in the midst of a storm that is raging in her body. Chemotherapy thunder and lightning raining down. But she is probably in a more peaceful place spiritually than ever in her life. I admire her for that. It reminds me of my Daddy. She's got her enthusiasm socks on. Just resting in His hand.

It also reminds me of the storm many of us go through in our faith. I've been in that storm. Wind blowing through, ripping my carefully planned life apart. Rain drenching me while I dodge lightning bolts. But even then I was in His hand.

Whether your storm is building, or you are in the eerily creepy eye, know that there is a hand big enough to hold you and keep you safe.

A Few of My Favorite Things - Spring Break Edition

2012-03-19T17:00:00.000-05:00

In no particular order, these are some of the highlights of my trip and break.

The Grand Canyon

Seeing Lucy

Charlie drinking from the pool

Ryan calling Maddy “crazy kid” and her beaming smile

Late night talk with Renate

Ben’s clever Lego weaponry complete with sound effects

Jack’s discussion about Ninjago (no idea how you spell that)

Sleepover with Maddy

Jerry’s sweet “dad” words in the pizza place

JoAnn’s joy. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone else with her level of joy.

Watching Mom with JoAnn in church

Watching John cheer Molly up the rock wall

McDonald’s talk with Steve

Lazy morning no-kid chat with Erin

Watching Jessie play in her very creative costume

Watching Olivia watch the dog (I’d totally get you a puppy if I thought I could get away with it!)

Learning about circuits from Jake

Katie’s smile. It’s like sunshine.

Griffin’s ticklish belly

Molly’s curls

Meeting Judah

Time left for spring cleaning and sleeping in when I got home

Thanks to the McDermitts, Palmers, and Selvidges for making this Spring Break extra awesome!

Sisters

2012-03-12T23:55:00.000-05:00

What does it mean to be a sister? Is it about having the same parents? Shared growing up memories? Is it about blood? If it’s strictly about blood, I don’t have any. If it’s more, then I have several. Getting together with the Selvidge’s has gotten me thinking about sisters because I’ve always sort of thought of Erin and Renate as my big sisters.

We don’t have the same parents, but I’m pretty sure that all of us got praised and disciplined by both sets of parents. I know I did. And as far as shared memories go, we have a lifetime of them. We’ve all gone our own ways, but the magic of Facebook has shrunk the globe to allow us into each other’s lives again.

And then there are my sisters-in-law. Why is it necessary to even distinguish between sister and sister-in-law? As far as I’m concerned, Dusty and Cindy also qualify as my sisters. I share my brothers with them, and they share their children with me. I won’t comment on who got the better deal…

It could be that having three brothers has motivated me to find sisters. I’m pretty sure that I’ve gotten the best ones out there. The following was written with them in mind. We’ll see if they can identify themselves. =]

Sisters

Midnight memories
Shared pain
Catching up

Rolling pie dough
Team work
Legacy

Birthday dinners
Full hearts
Welcome home

Distance learning
Skype tears
Tickeling arms

Facebook nearness
Bridge hearts
But not arms.

I Wonder

2012-02-27T22:17:00.000-06:00

I wonder what it’s like
To be the Voice
That sings the lullaby
That quiets the tears.

I wonder what it’s like
To be the Kisser
Of scratches and scrapes
With magic healing powers.

I wonder what it’s like
To be the Soother
When the coach yells unfairly
Poking your sore spots that were already bruised.

I wonder what it’s like
To be the sideline Cheerer
Bursting with pride at the block
That all the other parents are cheering too.

I wonder what it’s like
To be the Stylist
Of hair and sparkle and bows
Sharing excitement over the date.

I wonder what it’s like
To be the Listener
Of problems and worries and stress
That just listening to seems to deflate.

I wonder what it’s like
To be the Mom.

Thanks to my niece, I got to glimpse some of this over the weekend. I got to do the hair and have the "mom bag" with extra sunscreen, water, snacks, hairbands, hand sanitizer, and books. I got to cheer and groan with the crowd. I experienced the desire to throttle the coach. I got to hear the crowd cheer for my girl. I got to hug and snuggle and dry tears. It was a little bit of heaven.

I know people sometimes wonder about my feelings on this topic of not having kids. My answer sort of depends on the day. Overall, I'm at peace with the decisions I've made about it in the past. I did what I thought was right, and I believe that God blessed those decisions.

On the other hand, I'd be lying if I said I didn't think about what is lost. Of course I do. Not having kids is the death of a dream. Any death requires mourning. I mourn the loss of kids at different times and in different ways. At this point in my life, the pain isn't nearly so sharp as it was years ago, nor as frequent. I am very content and God has blessed me richly with hundreds of kids that I get to work with daily...then send home to their parents. =]

I wrote this poem and this post as part of that mourning and healing. I'm sharing it in an attempt at honesty. That's what my blog was meant to be about. And I'm definitely not looking for you to feel sorry for me. I'd also love it if you didn't leave comments about it not being too late for me to have kids or adopt or other stuff like that. I know all that is true. And I'm open for whatever God chooses to do with my life.

I have found that when a person mourns, the best response is just to acknowledge the loss and stand in that pain with the person. No need to try to fix it. Much like sitting Shivah. Thanks for taking the minute it took to read this to stand in my grief with me.

Why I Love and Admire My Big Brothers

2012-02-27T13:24:00.000-06:00

*Their involvement in their kid’s lives.

*The way they hug and love on their kids.

*They treat their wives with respect.

*They aren’t afraid of hard work.

*They know how to do laundry, dishes, and other “wife” jobs, and very frequently do them.

*They treat their wives as partners.

*The way they hug and love on their wives.

*They are protective of their little sister.

*In hard times, they would do just about anything to support me.

*They express genuine interest in my life.

*They encourage Aunt Laura’s participation in the lives of their kids.

*They check in with their mom regularly.

*They are exceptionally loyal.

*They love John unconditionally.

*They are Christ-like examples to their children.

*They remind me of my dad.

Wen win?

2012-02-21T19:55:00.001-06:00

A while back I was seduced by the picture perfect, healthy and strong, model worthy hair of the Wen models. I actually watched the entire infomercial, sucked in by the before and after pictures of the common woman made camera ready by the magic of the Wen haircare system. I made my order and waited with great anticipation.

When the box arrived, I was impressed with their environmental conscientiousness. There was minimal packaging waste. I read through all of the instructional material and planned my new haircare regime.

So, the question is, was it everything I hoped it would be?

Yes. And no.

So here's the scoop. The honest truth from someone you actually know.

First, the instructions advise you to not use hot water on your hair for the wash/conditioning. Who does that? I am not a fan of a cold shower. Not even a lukewarm shower. But I went with lukewarm anyway as sort of a compromise.

Then, you are supposed to leave the stuff on your hair for like five minutes. Seriously? Who has time for that? But I adjusted my routine so that I could put it on then do the other showering things before rinsing.

The instructions also say to apply the product in sections of your hair and use 5-7 "pumps" of the product per section. If your hair is long, you should use more, 8-10...per section. They say the more you use the better the result. Ok, I'm no genius, but 10 pumps on all the sections of my hair, every day? That's going to take a LOT of product.

But the truth is, it made my hair very soft. It also made it stronger. I had far less breakage and loss of hair. I actually loved the conditioning shampoo. The other products in the introductory package were less impressive. But I really did enjoy the shampoo.

Unfortunately, to use the product as suggested, would cost a fortune. I decided not to reorder.

But lo, I didn't have to! More product was sent to me automagically! Yeah, they don't mention that part on the commercial. They keep sending you the product. And guess what? They also keep charging you for it! Go figure. And the introductory products are cheaper than the regular sized ones. Amazing.

I finally called to cancel, but by then, I had one more payment due for the second shipment. Fantastic. After jumping through the many hoops with the telephone operator, I was able to cancel.

Great product. Terrible price. I decided I'd rather spend my money elsewhere.

KO

2012-02-20T17:16:00.000-06:00

Puffy eye tired
Slow blinking
Stay awake

Knee cracking stretch
Silent groaning
Step forward

Fighting fists defeated
Slouching stance
Punching air

Counting down to none
Slow motion falling
Fade to black

I wrote this several weeks back in the midst of my crazy deadlines. It was a bad day for sure. My favorite thing though was when I sent this out to some of my PotD peeps. (Poem of the Day...they are usually very silly...the poems, not the peeps ;) Anyway, one of them said he pittied the opponent. I'd written it as the defeated. It was a nice bit of encouragement from a good friend.

The Eleven Challenge

2012-01-25T13:55:00.000-06:00

My friend Karen from He Leadeth Me gave me the following challenge.

The Eleven Challenge

1. You must post the rules.

2. Post 11 fun facts about yourself on the blog post.

3. Answer the questions the tagger set for you in their post.

and then create 11 new questions for the people you tagged.

4. Tag people and link them on your post.

5. Let them know you've tagged them!

11 Fun (or not so fun) Facts:

I'm originally from South Haven, Michigan.
I'm kind of afraid of the dark.
I've recently been contemplating a tattoo. Lol. Seriously.
I can be very crafty when properly motivated.
I've broken my left wrist twice and my right collar bone twice.
I like to take pictures, but I'm hesitant to ask people to let me take their pictures.
I think I have a couple of books inside of me waiting to be written.
I often write very silly PotDs, Poems of the Day, and send them to my coworkers and closest friends.
I play WoW sometimes and have made a few good friends in such places as Lousisiana, Arizona, and Vermont.
I've lived in Houston for seven months and haven't found any doctors yet.
I have a favorite blanket that I've had since I was...well, I don't know how long. I stole it from my mom's when I moved out. It has a rubbie...it's in my lap.

Karen's Questions:

1. What is the best book you have read recently?

I used to read a ton, but less these days. The only books I've read recently are Stieg Larson's, The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, and The Girl Who Played With Fire. They were good, but not my usual style.

2. If money was no object, where would you go on vacation?

Ireland, Italy, an island, New York, Washington DC, to name a few. And I'd want a spa day in the vacation package. =]

3. What is a memory of a grandparent?

Grandpa Robbins telling me about how the pool table was able to sort out the white ball to the right place. It involved a little tiny fat man in the table who bounced the balls on his tummy in the right way...

4. Who was your favorite teacher and why?

Mrs. Small. She taught me math for two years in high school, Algebra II and Trig/EA. Her dad died when she was 16. She "got" me.

5. What was a book you remember reading as a child?

Are You My Mother?, Nancy Drew, Boxcar Children, Clara Barton, Mrs. Piggly Wiggly, The Littles, anything I could get my hands on.

6. What is something you remember doing with a sibling?

I remember rocking and singing to John. He loved me to sing to him. And I loved getting him to giggle. I also enjoyed having him say "sit" and "frog", because it sounded like cuss words when he did. lol. My mother just loved that...

7. What is something that frightens you?

Disappointing my family, my mom and brothers specifically. Sometimes I hesitate to do what I think is the right or best thing for me because I'm afraid they will disprove.

8. Are you a mountain person or a beach person? Why?

Mountain. Beautiful views. Lots of reasons. I'm not a big fan of water. It's connected to my fear of the dark. I prefer my water in a pool where I can see clearly that there are no monsters.

9. What do you look for in a friend?

Loyalty. Compassion. Not judgmental. Loves John. If you can't love John, I don't want to be friends.

10. What helps you to worship your creator?

Music and singing. My favorite worship was during praise team rehearsal when I went to Southeast. Doyle pastored me much.

11. How do you feel about public speaking?

Call me crazy, but I love it. I love motivational speaking. I love doing professional development. I've enjoyed speaking at Ladie's Day type things. I love teaching my peers. I even enjoyed TAKS training. Crazy, I know. Writing and speaking would be my dream job.

I have tagged the following people challenging them

to answer on their blogs, but I would love to hear in the

comment section from all of you.

Renate, Buttercream Dreams and Other Yummy Things

Allison, Walking Through The Doors He Opens

My Questions

1. What's your favorite dad memory?

2. What's your favorite comfort food, show, item, etc.?

3. What's your favorite cause?

4. What do you want to be when you grow up?

5. Describe your favorite vacation.

6. Who was your favoirte teacher and why?

7. Do you remember any of your school counselors?

8. What's your favorite thing to do with your kid(s)?

9. Your favorite place to shop and why?

10. If you could do one year of your life over, which would it be and why?

11. Who inspires you and why?

Slumber Party

2012-01-13T06:02:00.000-06:00

Sparkly nails

Lots of kisses

Apple cider

Fancy dishes.

Hot chocolate

Christmas lights

Watching “Tangled”

Late, late night.

Morning hugs

In my bed

Photos snapped

In my head.

Secret notes

Tender care

Left for me

Everywhere

Precious girls

Life’s uncertainties

All that matters

Precious memories.

I wrote this a few weeks back and forgot to post it. I had such a great time having all of my sweet nieces over during the holiday. I really am blessed with 8 precious nieces and nephews who love me very much. I love and enjoy them all like crazy.

Stats

2012-01-06T17:16:00.000-06:00

My blog stats say that someone in the Netherlands reads this fairly often. I've never been there and don't know anyone there. How cool is that? Cool that someone reads it, not that I haven't been to the Netherlands. =]

Reminder

2012-01-05T08:13:00.000-06:00

have a new phone. It has a feature called “Reminders” that allows you to make a “to do” list and put a check mark beside the items as they are completed. I love that part; it’s so satisfying to see those check marks. Here is what is currently on my list:
                *get car inspected
                *renew car registration
                *talk to credit union
                *returns to Target
                *returns to Walmart
                *laundry

I was thinking about the items on my list this morning when I got a Caring Bridge notice that something had been posted. So, I went in and read the latest news about my friend Johnna. The doctor says she is in a vegetative state. Her husband asked for prayers and is waiting two days to make any final decisions. Heart breaking.

I have another friend I keep track of through Caring Bridge. She has cancer. She is actually in Houston at MD Anderson this week seeking further treatment options. I pray they have good news for her.

I can’t help but go back to my list and look at it again. It has some important things on it. Things I need to do in order to not get a ticket. Things I need to do in order to have clean clothes. Important things. But nothing that REALLY matters is on that list.

So what DOES really matter? I thought about that question the whole time I was getting ready this morning. I think the answer can be summed up in one simple word, relationships. A simple word but a difficult reality because relationships are hard work. But what else matters?

My car can be “renewed” and running, but if I don’t have anyone to go see, it’s worthless.

You can spend your life at school, C-Scoping, preparing, setting up and organizing, but if you don’t have relationships with your students, you are wasting your time.

You can build the car of your dreams, but if you haven’t cultivated a relationship with someone to share the dream with, what is the point?

You can work your fingers to the bone and make a fortune, but if you don’t have anyone to share it with or spend it on or give it to, then why?

You can have the perfect organizational system with time management principles in place and ultimate efficiency achieved, but if all of that extra time isn’t used on people who matter, well, that’s pretty inefficient.

You can have the schedules done and the changes made and the letters of recommendation written, but if you don’t stop to enjoy your team or your kids, you’ve missed the point of being a counselor.

What matters is that all of the family was together for Christmas this year. The presents didn’t matter too much, but the presence did.

Getting my nails done regularly doesn’t matter, but the relationships with my girls does.

The middle of the night purchases on Thanksgiving didn’t matter much, but the time spent with family, laughing until my sides hurt, did.

Another great feature about my “Reminders” app is that I can make more than one list. I think it’s time to add a list based on what really matters.

New Joy

2011-12-23T13:00:00.000-06:00

It wasn’t long in to the “single again” status that I realized I had to do something to get out of myself and find new purpose in life. I spent a good chunk of time in the beginning pondering and analyzing my life and past, decisions and choices. It was time spent working on me. It was healing and growing, changing and refining. It was really hard work. It is not a completed work, but I’m in a different place in the process.

Lately though, I’ve been finding new joy in helping others. I’ve known for years that serving is part of where I get re-fueled; it’s probably one of the reasons I became a counselor. But though being a counselor does provide fuel, it is also very draining. There have to be other sources of fueling.

I’ve mentioned my “nail place” before, but as time goes on, I’ve become more and more involved at this little business. I’ve come to think of those girls as my Vietnamese “family”. The longer I go there, the more I learn about the family connections between some of the girls and the stories of their lives.

This past Monday afternoon, I’d made arrangements for my nieces and sister in laws to get their nails done at my place. They gave me a deal, partially because of our relationship but partially because it’s just a slow time of year. When I got there, one of the girls came and sat down next to me. I’ve seen her many times, but she is one of the only girls that I hadn’t had much contact with. My impression was that her English wasn’t very good.

Apparently, she and a couple of the other girls had been talking, and they told her about me helping them with their English. She wanted help too. She was so nervous about talking to me and asking for help. I was really excited because I had seen her struggling on several occasions, and I really wanted to help her. So we made a plan to begin today.

We met at Starbucks and started by just having a conversation. The biggest thing the girls need is practice with someone who won’t make them feel stupid. She was very embarrassed and apologetic about her grammar and not having a “good voice”. This just stuns me. I think that, given the circumstances they are in, these girls do very well. English is a very inconsistent and difficult language.

After some coaxing, she began to talk. I learned that she had come to the states when she was in junior high. She lives with her mom, dad, and two younger sisters. When she got here, she worked to help support the family so that her two little sisters could go to school. She didn’t get to go to school because her family needed her help financially. She worked in a restaurant with her family for several years then went to school to get licensed to do nails. She now works part time at the nail place and is finally getting to go to school. She is 29 years old.

I think she was completely stunned that I was willing to work with her. She doesn’t understand that it is fun for me. Today, we talked quite a bit and then read a children’s book together. We traded off reading pages, stopping to go over difficult vocabulary. She got teary several times because she was overwhelmed that I was helping her. The funny thing is, I was having a great time. I loved helping her. We got some funny looks in Starbucks, but I didn’t really care.

Toward the end, we were going over some grammar and she made up a sentence for me in which she spoke of going to church tonight to sing. I poked that a bit to find out a little about her background. She told me that, “[she ] loves God because he has helped [her] so much”. I told her that I thought He probably sent me to her. She readily agreed and got teary again.

But the truth is, He probably sent her to me too. I don’t really know if it was in His grand plan for us to meet up. But getting to help her and the other girls has given me a new joy. It’s the joy that comes from becoming a part of a new community. It’s the joy that comes from getting to help others. It’s the joy that comes from doing something you enjoy anyway. It’s the joy that comes from knowing you are making a difference to someone else.

While I think that getting outside of myself in this way is especially good for a newly single person like me, I actually think it is good for everyone. I think it’s good for us to step outside of ourselves and see the needs around us. Needs that we can meet doing something we enjoy anyway.

Now I’m going to go try the eggroll and other assorted treats she brought that her mom made just for me. What an honor.

Heavenly Banana Bread

2011-12-10T10:25:00.000-06:00

There is something oh so wrong about over ripe bananas and oh so right about delicious banana bread. My favorite banana bread recipe came from Gwen Goodyear, my sister in law’s mom. I’ll be honest, it’s a difficult recipe. You’ve got to be on really good speaking terms with your oven to get this one right. It requires time adjustments, temperature adjustments, and sometimes tinfoil. But when you get it right, it’s pure heaven.

I feel sure that there are other recipes out there that are easier. But I don’t care. This is “Dusty’s Banana Bread,” though really Gwen’s, so it’s the one I’m going to make. Gwen is now in heaven, so I feel sure that this recipe is right on the verge of being THE heavenly choice.

My all time favorite memory of Gwen is a Christmas years ago; I don’t even remember what year it was. What I do remember is Gwen and her three daughters all in Dusty’s kitchen preparing the meal. They were laughing and fussing and laughing and arguing and laughing and really LOUD! And it was awesome! Somewhere I have a picture of it. I should frame it with this recipe. The very best part of the memory though is that I got to be right in there with all of them. A perfect moment captured in my heart.

So here is the recipe. Good luck…

Gwen’s Banana Bread

Sift:
1 ¼ c flour

1 c sugar

½ t salt

1 t baking soda

Cut in ½ c shortening.

Add and mix:

2 ripe bananas, mashed

2 eggs

Bake at 350 degrees for 35-40 minutes.

Give and Take

2011-12-06T19:53:00.000-06:00

Occasionally, I am presented with an opportunity to give that I cannot pass. I’ve decided that the more I look for these opportunities, the more I am presented with them. Or maybe it’s that the more I take the opportunity, the more I notice. Some would say it’s a spiritual leading, and I’m comfortable with that. Regardless of where the nudge comes from or why, I’ve found that answering is always rewarding…to me.

This year I’ve had an opportunity to invest in my friend Allison. She has made two trips to Africa to visit and work in orphanages. There is an enthusiasm and passion about the way she talks about the kids she meets that is irresistible. I think part of the draw for me is that she sponsors kids in addition to visiting. But more, she never forgets those kids. She has developed relationships with people who live and work there in order to serve better. I have absolutely no desire to go to Africa. But I’m glad she does. And I feel blessed to be able to help her.

Allison also works with St. Jude’s hospital. She and a team of friends do the walk every year in support of various kids. It’s a free hospital. It’s a great cause. But I can’t resist sponsoring her because of completely different reasons. She has taught her daughter the importance of giving and helping others. And this year, Allison’s daughter is crazy excited that she gets to walk too. How can I not support that enthusiasm?

Then there is school. There are always opportunities to support causes at schools. I’ve picked up a “Senior” (elderly person) from one of our student organization’s angel tree that I need to shop for this afternoon. I have no idea why I couldn’t pass this one up; it’s not like I needed another person to shop for, but for some reason, I had to pick up a Senior Angel.

About five minutes ago, I bought raffle tickets for another cause. It’s a group that provides an after school learning program for our high school kids. It goes straight to my kids. For kids who need a safe place. And they learn cooking, sewing, social skills, study skills, and lots of other things. It’s like an extension of what the counseling program is about, how can I resist?

One of the teachers at my school who is an only child, lost his dad this weekend. He had to make an emergency trip across the country to make arrangements. His wife and kids had to stay here because one of his kids has a serious illness that requires regular hospital visits and stays. As a result, they are strapped financially. I can’t imagine being in this situation. I only learned about it recently when I also discovered that I’d gone to college with and knew his wife. When someone from his department asked, how could I not help?

Writing is processing for me, and as I’m sitting here writing this, I think I know why I have to respond to these types of opportunities.

When I was in 8^th grade, my dad was diagnosed with leukemia. There were four kids in my family, two in high school, one in junior high, and a toddler. Mom was home with John running a day care. Money was really tight. But we were taken care of.

A teacher from my dad’s school, Pasadena High School, was my dad’s summer school substitute and never took a dime for sub pay.

One of the Assistant Principals there gave Dad something like $100 from every one of her pay checks.

During a particularly long hospital stay, an old friend from Michigan came down and helped me run the day care while Mom stayed at the hospital with Dad.

When he was super sick, he would teach the first part of class then lay down on a cot in the office next door while one of the other math teacher’s monitored class work during his/her conference period.

The people I babysat for knew I wanted to go to a workshop in Abilene for Bible class teachers with a group from church, so they paid for me to go. In fact, they made that trip happen in minutes before I went home one night from sitting with their boys, and I left the next morning.

People would shake my mom’s hand at church and leave bills of all sorts of denomination behind.

After Dad passed, someone paid to fly my brother home from Arkansas. Someone else paid the rest of his college tuition that semester. The church paid off our van. People brought us food.

When I moved out a year and a half ago, one of my friends walked by my side every step of the way. She helped me figure out my finances. She helped me find a place to live where I would be safe. She loved me without judgment. She loaned me her children for hugs.

When my mom heard, she got in the car and drove 11 hours to help me move. She didn’t know details but she knew ME. She stayed at my apartment and unpacked and organized me while I went to work. She bought me a mop and a tool kit and lots of other little things to make me more comfortable. Mostly she loved me.

Another of my friends came over with bags of groceries to stock my refrigerator, freezer, and pantry. She also brought me a television which I’m still using. And she let me do laundry at her house for almost a year, insisting that I not bring my own detergent. During our laundry/study sessions, she listened for hours. Today, she called and sang, “I Just Called To Say I Love You” on my voice mail.

A stranger with whom I have a mutual friend gave me a washer and dryer to use the last few months in Amarillo.

I know what it means to be given gifts when you least expect it and never dream to even ask. I have been given many, many gifts in my life.

It isn’t always comfortable to take help when it is offered. Sometimes it’s downright painful. My mom used to say that when you don’t allow others to help you when you are in need that you are robbing them of the opportunity to serve. I think she is right.

She has something else to say about giving. She once bought someone glasses and then shared this with me from Proverbs, “Do not withhold good from those who deserve it, when it is in your power to act.”

I think we NEED to give of ourselves and help others. I think it is essential to our personal growth. Life is not all about “me”. It’s good for me when Allison reminds me that there are millions of orphans who need help. It’s good when community needs are brought to my attention at school. It’s really good when I can pay forward to a coworker what was done for my family. And I didn’t write all of that to toot my own horn. It’s not about that at all. It’s about recognizing the fact that we have as much need to give as we sometimes have to receive.

I think it’s good for you too. If you can’t give of your money, give of your time. I’ve been doing some tutoring here recently that I’m convinced is far more rewarding for me than my “students”.

I understand the need to circle the wagons and focus inward for a time. I’ve been there before. But sometimes, when circling is the temptation, I think we are better off looking out. There are always so many others who have it worse. There is always something we can give. And sometimes the thing that is most fulfilling to us, is pouring into others.

Lost and Found

2011-11-29T17:21:00.000-06:00

Before you get worried about my current state of mind, know that the following was inspired by multiple things over the course of a couple of years. While I do believe the words, feel the words, the completed piece is the strained and concentrated feelings, as my poems usually are. Besides reflecting on my own life, part of this is from reflection on a blog post a friend of mine wrote months ago, one that I've gone back and reread multiple times. Then today at work, I had an interesting conversation with a student that inspired me further.

Lost and Found

I want to be sighted in the crosshairs of somebody’s scope

I want to be scented by a well-trained hound

I want to be tracked in the rain, foot prints washed away

I want to be hunted until I am found.

I want to be chased until breathless with aching sides

I want to be pursued to the ends of the earth

I want to be sought like a treasure, a precious gem

I want to be appraised with the highest worth

I want to be appreciated, wafted, swirled in a glass

I want to be held up, inspected in the light

I want to be savored, sipped, not gulped or sloshed

I want to be valued with highest price

I want to be noticed, acknowledged, never ignored

I want to be prioritized, top of the list

I want to be searched for if lost, away from the path

If I’m missing I want to be missed.

Reciprocal

2011-11-28T22:01:00.000-06:00

Sometimes it fills me to listen
Sometimes it empties my tank

Sometimes cheering is energizing
Sometimes it just feels like a drain

Sometimes initiating is exciting
Sometimes invisible seems best

Sometimes silence is comfort
Sometimes it feels like a test

Sometimes the work seems worth it
Sometimes it feels like a waste

Sometimes each word choice matters
Sometimes it just tumbles in haste

Sometimes being the talker is easy
Sometimes it’s a lot of hurt

Sometimes being quiet is better
Sometimes it makes others work

The Most Sacred Gift

2011-11-14T22:00:00.000-06:00

I believe, and have believed for some time, that the greatest gift a person can give you is a piece of himself. When someone shares part of his story with you, you have been given the gift of trust. That you can be trusted to hold that little piece of him with respect, and without judgment, is an amazing honor.

Because of this belief, I am constantly amazed at the way people talk to me. The ladies at my manicure shop talk to me. One of them talks to me about the challenges of being a working mom. She pours her heart out to me. She hardly knows me!

Where I used to work, random teachers would drop in and plop down and tell me all about their husbands and kids and in-laws and all of their troubles. Occasionally, someone would lurk at the door and I could tell she needed to talk. So I’d invite her in and before you know it, she had talked and cried and laughed all in the space of a conference period.

I occasionally play an online game with people who are total strangers. Sometimes a conversation will begin and within an hour I’ve heard some random stranger’s life story along with his deepest, darkest secrets. It’s nuts!

I know I’m a counselor so I’ve been trained to listen, but I don’t really think that’s why people talk to me. I’m not really anything special as counselors go. I think people just desperately want someone to listen. They need to be heard.

I think people want to give this gift of sharing far more than they actually give it. It’s so hard sometimes to find someone you feel comfortable enough with to extend that sacred trust to. I think maybe it’s even harder to find someone who is willing to receive it.

And that astonishes me. Because there is no greater gift.

I was reminded of all of this today with one of my students. I sent for her because one of her teacher’s had expressed some concerns. I’d visited with her once before. She has a therapist who is most likely far more qualified than I am. I asked the young lady how she was doing and she gave me the typical, “fine.” Her words and her eyes didn’t match, which I told her. I asked if she was sure she was ok. “Yeah”. I told her I wouldn’t force her to talk to me but that I thought she was a big fat liar. She smiled.

A few minutes later she started talking. I listened. She shared. It was so good. Lots of opportunities to praise good things and sympathize with hard things. Really good stuff.

Then I found out she was a writer. I suspected as much because she had a very pretty notebook that looked suspiciously like a journal. I have a similar one. We had a long conversation about writing and sharing and poetry and music. I have a quote from P!nk on my credenza that she recognized. A line from a song, “Change the voices in your head. Make them like you instead.” We talked about it. It was a counselor’s dream really.

Then she did something unbelievable. She asked me if I wanted to read one of her poems. I was so excited. What an honor! Talk about a precious gift. Of course, I accepted. She ended up allowing me to read several. She has talent. I ended up keeping her far too long. It was just such an incredible experience. She talked AND shared her writing!

So why am I telling you all of this?

Lately, I am constantly amazed at people’s need to be acknowledged. One of the easiest…and hardest…ways to do that is to listen. Stop and listen to the people who are talking to you.

Your kids. Your friends. Your spouses. Your coworkers.

They want to give you a most sacred gift. Don’t miss it.

You Matter

2011-11-01T16:38:00.000-05:00

I was blessed to receive tons of birthday wishes today. From people I’m close to and people who are more acquaintance than friend. But it mattered.

Four or five years ago, I had a 5^th grade boy in my office. My phone rang, and I ignored it. He wanted to know why I wasn’t answering. I told him he was more important than that phone call. He was stunned. It mattered.

A friend of mine who lives far away, “pokes” me on Facebook every time she is on. It matters to me.

One of the other counselors at my school has this goofy student who comes by several times a day just to say hello. She always acknowledges him, even if it is just a smile or wave. It matters.

There are countless ways that I am affirmed on a daily basis of the importance of my existence. Today’s unusual abundance of those acknowledgments has had me thinking about it. I am so incredibly blessed to have so many family members and friends who care about me. And that matters.

I am frequently stunned at the number of people who go through life not knowing whether their existence even matters. Kids. Spouses. Employees. Employers. Parents. Neglected and wondering if their absence would even register to those they interact with on a daily basis.

One of the most important lessons I’ve learned in life, both in counseling and in my personal life, is of people’s basic need to matter. To be noticed. Acknowledged. Valued.

And providing that kind of feedback can be so incredibly simple. A smile. A hug. A nod. A pat. A nudge. A “hello”. A wink. A wave. An ignored call or text. A pause to listen. All so incredibly simple. But so very important.

There are so many people in my life who can easily go unnoticed. People who provide me services and luxuries. People who just happen to cross my path. The manicure ladies. My hair stylist. The guy who bags my groceries. The oil change people. My secretaries. The receptionist. The custodians. The apartment maintenance people. Students in the hall I don’t even know.

Today, more than usual, I know I matter to others. And I’m reminded of how very simple it is to return that favor. Not everyone has the kind of friends and family I do.

Exorcising Pride

2011-10-30T17:07:00.000-05:00

I just finished watching a movie called, The Rite. I’m pretty sure it would be classified as horror, which is absolutely not my regular genre, but since Anthony Hopkins was the star, I decided to give it a go. It is about a young man who goes to seminary as an alternative to becoming a mortician. His future is dictated by his dad’s willingness to pay for only those two options. The entire movie is basically about his faith struggles. He ends up being connected with an older priest, Hopkins, who is an exorcist.

I won’t go in to the entire story, though surprisingly, I liked the movie. But the message of the movie is, I think, a really good one. Hopkins does major battle against satan through some fairly unorthodox exorcism methods. But over the course of his career, the devil manages to creep in anyway. Ultimately, and in the nick of time, the young priest comes to terms with his own faith and “saves” Hopkins by exorcising satan from him.

So. What’s the point? I found it interesting that the very people who were supposed to be the authorities on fighting evil, ultimately had struggles of their own. For the older priest, pride seemed to be a contributing factor. For the younger, faith.

I think sometimes we get so caught up in pointing out and noticing everyone else’s faults that we fail to see our own. Our pride and judgment of others blinds us to what is going on in ourselves. The perfect storm developed from pride that “goes before a fall,” and working on someone else’s splinter without noticing our own blinding plank.

I’ve experienced a lot of judgment in the last couple of years and know how painful it can be. It has caused me to look at other people and their struggles differently. I think that piece is a good lesson for me. But this movie was a little reminder for me when I find myself getting comfortable or being smug. I am so far from having it all together. I think kindness, love, and compassion are always good choices.

Trust

2011-09-12T21:04:00.000-05:00

I've been contemplating the concept of trust lately. I even started writing a piece about it, comparing it to a spider's web, sticky and shaky, sending vibrations when encroached upon by nasty insects. Then I put a starter on FB that said, "Trust is..." and waited for the comments, some of which I found sad. Then I remembered that I'd written some things on Trust this past year. As it turns out, I don't need to write a lengthy post after all.

Written 2/24/22

Trust

A delicate web
A spiral,
Radiates.

A small touch,
A test,
Reverberates.

A careless swipe,
A break,
Devastates.

A precious gift,
A choice,
Recreates.

Oh what
A tangled web
We weave.

Challenge the System

2011-08-25T20:18:00.000-05:00

In counseling, sometimes the best way to promote change is to challenge the beliefs of the system. I’ve been challenging my own system lately. And while I may be a family of one, I still operate with a system of beliefs that have been shaped by other systems I’ve belonged to over the years.

When you are young, asking “why” is acceptable and normal, though occasionally annoying to those whom you are constantly asking. But some people, lots of people really, slowly quit asking that question. There are all sorts of reasons to quit asking…you think you know all the whys, or you just want to keep peace, or you don’t want to make waves, or you don’t want to be made fun of, or maybe you grow tired of the answer. But for me, challenging the system often involves asking “why?”.

I challenge other people all the time. I’m a counselor. It’s what I do. Listen and challenge. In the last couple of years, I’ve started listening and challenging myself. Asking why.

Last week I was putting some dirty dishes in the dishwasher and thinking about how I would have to wash my breakfast dishes the next morning. I fix my instant oatmeal in these plastic cups that are the perfect size for microwaving without bubbling over. But I only have three of them. And what I do is use the three, then wash one a couple of times by hand. For some reason last week I stopped and asked myself why I didn’t just run the dishwasher.

I thought about it, and the reason is because…you don’t run the dishwasher until it’s full. Well, in my home, that takes a week. But I need those cups after three days. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that it was ridiculous for me to wait a week to run the dishwasher. If the dishwasher’s job is to wash my dishes…why not let it? Pretty dumb huh…

Not running the dishwasher until it’s full makes great sense in a big family when you go through dishes quickly. Fill that sucker up! But for me, it makes no sense at all. So…I ran the dishwasher half full. And the earth did NOT fall out of its orbit. Nor did the ground crack open and swallow me up. But the next morning, I had a clean cup for my oatmeal.

At this point you might be wondering what the big deal is. Well, changing my dishwashing pattern is actually not that big of a deal. But the idea of questioning how you do things…I think that is big.

So often, we get stuck in patterns of living and functioning and continue in them because it’s how we’ve always done it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for routine and tradition. But I think that an occasional “Why?”, is healthy.

People

2011-08-17T06:49:00.000-05:00

Like layered cake

Filled and frosted.

With iced masks

Of buttercream

Or fondant.

Delicate whirls

Of imperfect

Uniqueness.

Or smooth

Perfection

Draping.

Creamy filling

Moisty goodness

Sticking to the frost

Or flaky stale

Dried up bland

Hidden under gloss.

Signpost

2011-08-15T18:39:00.001-05:00

I used to lie in my bed at night and cry and pray for my marriage. I would go for a drive and cry and pray. I’d beg and plead with God. Make bargains. Cry some more. I have probably spent more time crying and praying for my marriage than any other thing/person in my life.

Four days before I left, a switch flipped inside of me. I quit crying. And my prayer changed. As to the tears, I think I was just out of tears. I’d cried for my marriage for so long that when I made the decision to leave, I couldn’t cry. Crying opened me up and made me vulnerable. And I had to be strong. Stronger than I’d ever had to be in my life. My prayer became really simple, “God help me.” I guess those words became my cry. My cry for help, strength, courage. Survival.

And then there was a time after I left when I quit talking to God much. I was really ticked off at Him. I couldn’t figure out why He’d allowed things to turn out the way they had. I told my mom I was angry with God. I loved Him, but I was really mad.

I quit listening to Christian music because it infuriated me. The words all seemed to say that if you just trusted in Him, He would work it all out. Well, it didn’t feel to me like He’d worked things out for me. And I worked my marriage hard. I begged and pleaded with God for years.

I don’t think I’d ever been angry with God before this time. With myself, yes. With my ex-husband, for sure. But not God.

Eventually, we worked things out. Me and God. We are back on regular speaking terms though the nature of our conversations has changed considerably…which is a topic for a whole different post.

But when I quit praying for my marriage, I quit praying for my ex-husband. Until this week.

I heard through the grapevine that my ex is having some health issues. He had a significant procedure done, and I’m told, might have to have surgery. It’s not a life threatening kind of thing, but significant nonetheless.

So I prayed for him this week. Not for hours or anything. Just some simple prayers for his well-being. I don’t hate him. I never have. I don’t wish bad things for him. I had just quit praying for him.

I think it’s an important step for me. I think it’s part of the ongoing process of forgiving. And healing. And I don’t need praise for it. Writing just happens to be how I process things.

I’m a big believer in markers. Alters. Heaps of rocks piled up to mark something significant on the journey. This is my pile of rocks.

Addendum: Added a couple of hours after the original post.

In my last post, when I was talking about being angry with God, I said I’d been angry with myself before and my ex-husband, but not God. I just re-read that and knew immediately that part of the statement wasn’t true. In fact, it’s something I’ve talked to a couple of my friends about and something I’ve thought about many times.

I didn’t get angry with my husband. I very seldom got mad. I got hurt. I got frustrated. But I didn’t really feel anger toward him until after I left. That is actually one of the pieces in our marriage that I think I own as a mistake.

I SHOULD have gotten mad. I SHOULD have gotten spitting blind furious! But I didn’t. Up until the last few months, I always thought everything was my fault. And I realize that is quite a few superlatives, but it’s fairly accurate. I truly believed that our issues were all mine. That I was the one who was annoying and a poor communicator, and a long list of other things.

I should have gotten mad in the first few weeks. I didn’t. I tried to please and smooth everything into niceness. And that is what I continued to do for years. It kind of reminds me of frosting a cake. You can smooth over lots of imperfections with sweet, fluffy icing. Make it all look smooth and dreamy. That’s what I did. That is the reason so many people were stunned when I left.

But the person I was fooling the most was me.

Ok, more than enough deep thought for one night. =]

Allison

2011-08-13T23:15:00.000-05:00

My friend Allison left her heart in Uganda when she went over on a mission trip to visit, encourage, and lend aid to orphans. She paid her own way to go, but feels called to return. Check out her blog.

www.goingwherehesendsme.blogspot.com

She is currently selling beautiful handcrafted beads made by Uganden women, but I feel sure she would be happy of anything you might send her way, including prayers. She is a woman worth investing in.

Stress

2011-08-09T22:21:00.000-05:00

On tip toe feet
It creeps up slow

Mirroring movements
Staying in shadow

A dark stickiness
Clinging tar

Frozen breath
Makes me shiver

Chasing my thoughts
Making them race

My heart beats fast
Faster, faster

Running, running
To stay ahead.

I wrote this at school today. And yes, it was a pretty stressful day. So much to learn, so little time. And I was feeling this at one point. But don't worry. I made lists, piles, and notebooks. All the while looking over my shoulder calling, "run run as fast as you can, you can't catch me I'm the list making man...well, woman." (As opposed to gingerbread man for those who did not catch the reference.) =]

Sometimes, when you least expect it...

2011-08-04T23:31:00.001-05:00

Panic

Heart skips

Breath catches

Brain freezes

Ears ring

Beat resumes

Heart pounds

Pulse races

Tumbling thoughts

Faster faster

Blood pumping

Panting panting

Can’t think

Self talk

Eyes closed

Breathing in

Breathing out

Slower slower

Fog clearing

Breathing breathing

Icy veins

Collateral Damage

2011-08-02T22:52:00.000-05:00

Angry scar across the heart

Jagged, dimpled mass

An ugly reminder of bone deep pain

That no one but He can see.

Tears and hope slathered on

Reusable, endless salve

That slowly heals and softens scabs

So healing can begin.

Relationships scattered

Across lines in the sand

After comparing records of wrongs

Few neutrals remain intact.

Brave contact, courageous few

Gather wood and tools to build

A simple bridge of planks and rope

Across the landmined path.

Blooming

2011-07-30T11:33:00.000-05:00

This spring I fell in love with flowers. My flowers haven’t lived long in the past because I didn’t really learn how to care for them. So when I began buying baskets of hanging flowers and pots of assorted flowers this year, I decided it was time to really learn how to take care of them and keep them alive. And I’ve learned some important things.

Lesson One

Flowers need to be fed and watered often. I used to water them once a week. Maybe. The greenhouse ladies I spoke to recommended watering once a day at least. Sometimes twice. Flowers also need food. I’ve never fed my flowers before. This year, I started feeding them. I put food in the watering can and feed them every couple of weeks.

Lesson Two

Flowers need to be deadheaded. I never knew how to do this before or why it was necessary. But basically, it’s just a matter of pulling off the dead flowers. And different types of flowers need to be deadheaded in different ways. Some require taking part of the stem as well. When you remove the old flower, it causes the flower to bloom again faster. If you want to keep your plants flowering, deadheading is an absolutely essential step.

Lesson Three

Repeat lessons one and two. If you don’t continue to feed, water, and deadhead your flowers, they will quit blooming and eventually die. A couple times this summer I had to leave town. I got babysitters for my flowers, but it wasn’t the same. They were getting watered, but they weren’t getting the full treatment that they needed. When I got back to town, I always had to catch my flowers up and get them back in to shape. And the longer they had been neglected, the more work I had to do.

This past year I fell in love with me. That does not mean that I now moon about at myself when I look in the mirror. Not at all. But for years I’ve been neglecting myself physically and spiritually, and as a result, parts of my spirit had died. So this year I’ve learned some very important things about caring for myself.

Lesson One

I need to be fed and watered regularly. Part of this is actual food. I’ve had to change the way I eat and live. As a result, I’ve lost some weight. I have a long way to go, but I’m on the right track. But part of the feeding that I need is spiritual. I have to have good stuff coming in to my life. For me, this is only partially about church. It’s also about having good friends who listen to me and process with me. It’s about doing things like walking and riding my bike. It’s about spending time with family. It’s about being connected to others. For me, this is essential food and water.

Lesson Two

I need to be deadheaded regularly. I have emotional baggage. I’ve been hurt and have adopted some unhealthy coping techniques. So, I have to deal with this stuff as it comes up. I sometimes get upset about things that shouldn’t upset me. And when I do, I have to really think about it and figure out what dead flower is behind it. And then I have to deal with it and pull it out.

Lesson Three

Repeat lessons one and two. Self maintenance is a continual process. I have to feed my spirit regularly. If I let things go, things get backed up for me emotionally. If I go for weeks without attending to my spiritual needs, then more work has to be done later. I also cannot depend on others to take care of my spiritual and emotional needs. Other people help me process and can be energizing, but ultimately, I have to take responsibility for my own mental and spiritual maintenance. I have to take care of me.

I’ve learned a lot about flowers and myself in the past year. And I’m happy to report that we are all blooming.

Voices

2011-07-29T12:00:00.000-05:00

There’s a secret voice inside my head,
Hiding in the darkest corner
Crouched behind boxes of old memories.

He watches my every move
And sighs.
Listens to my thoughts
And rolls his eyes.

I pretend he isn’t there.
And for a moment, I forget.
Thinking he’s the past.

But sometimes, he leaps out of hiding
Arms waving
Shouting, “STOP!
You’ll get lost!”

But today is different.
I turn anyway,
Tentatively
And find my own way.

Sometimes he tiptoes,
Creeping quietly
Whispering, “Don’t!
You’ll break it!”

But today is different.
I do it anyway,
Cautiously
And fix it.

Sometimes he swaggers up,
Looking at my reflection
Accusing, “You aren’t…”

But today is different.
I look back
Steadily declaring,
“I am…”

Tomorrow, I may listen
For a moment
And think he’s right.

But someday, silence.
Faded echoes
Of forgotten lies.

Written 1/26/11

Sometimes you listen to lies so often that you begin to believe them. And sometimes the silliest of them can be devastating. For example, I was told for years that I had no sense of direction. I've told people myself that I'm "directionally challenged."

A while back I challenged that belief, and it was very scary. The day I wrote this poem, I was driving to work and stopped at Hastings for coffee in Canyon. I'd thought for weeks that I could take a short cut through one of the side streets to get to my school faster. But I was afraid to try. I mean really afraid. But after several weeks of thinking about it, and we all know I'm an over analyzer, I decided that the worst that could happen was that I'd get turned around and be a little late.

As it turns out, my guess about the shortcut was correct. It was a very big day for me. I know it seems small, but from then on, I began to challenge the belief that I couldn't find my way. I've explored lots of short cuts since then. And I don't recall a single occasion when I've gotten lost.

Since I moved back home, I've done a lot of exploring. The area in which I live isn't exactly where I lived before, but it is familiar. I've explored back ways to the main shopping center and to church. And I've been able to find my way. And I've discovered that I have a feel for where things are in my mind. Now, I still have difficulty "sensing" north, south, east, and west, but I can point and tell you which direction my mom is, or my Supertarget, etc.

There are a number of lies I'm doing battle with. And it may take years before the voice is completely silenced. But I'm making progress. =]

Things I'm Thankful For Today

2011-07-26T11:07:00.000-05:00

*My new office. ~ It isn't the big one I thought I had, which I'm glad of. This one is more my size and feels like a hug.

*John ~ For hauling loads and loads of boxes at my apartment and school.

*Mom ~ For unloading loads of boxes at my apartment and school.

*Friends ~ For checking in regularly.

*My keurig ~ Because starting the day with a great cup of coffee is still a guilty pleasure.

*Throw pillows ~ Because they are pretty and feel no need to serve a particular purpose except pleasing me.

*Baskets ~ My favorite for organizing and storing, prettily.

*My new Italian friend ~ She reminds me that life is to be savored.

*Naps ~ Because I seem to need them after the craziness of this summer.

*Skype and FB ~ Helping me keep in touch.

*Old books ~ They smell good, feel good, and are essential decorating tools.

*Grace

FB Trigger

2011-07-25T12:14:00.000-05:00

I hate divorce. It is not glamorous, and I do not recommend it. But sometimes it’s necessary. Divorce is the death of a relationship. And with death, there is mourning. Grief comes in stages. I’ve grieved the death of my father and understand that the process never completely ends. The pain of loss eases over time, but the mourning comes and goes. Holidays, anniversaries and other life markers can stir old feelings of sadness or loss triggering the process of working through familiar emotions in different ways. This is a healthy thing. It’s how grief and loss work. And when you work through these different triggers and feelings in a healthy way, you grow. Goodness, I sound like a counselor.

Last night I hit a trigger unexpectedly. A friend of mine accepted my friend request on FB, so I went and looked at his page. I got to thinking that he might be friends with some of my former in-laws. Sure enough, he is. One page led to another, and in minutes, I’d seen faces and caught up on more news than I have in over a year. And it hurt like crazy.

One of the most searing pains of divorce for me has been the loss of family. They say that when you marry, you marry the whole family. The same is often true in divorce. I didn’t feel like it was fair or right for me to “steal” family from my ex-husband, so I chose to let the relationships with all of my former in-laws go. In reality, it's hard for people to be neutral in a divorce. I felt like he needed that support system and hoped they would surround him with love. But it has been very hard. I'm very much a relationship person.

For many years, I had almost no contact with my extended family, but lots with his. The cousins really got connected. I went to all of the weddings and most of the reunions. I loved them. Truth is, I still do. But this last year, I missed births and birthdays and anniversaries. And that is hard.

Another piece of the mourning is that I have no idea what those people whom I loved and respected think of me now. I know in my brain that it doesn’t matter. I’m good with me. I believe God is good with me. Other than that, it shouldn’t matter. But “seeing” some of them made me wonder all over again. And I’m going to have to let that go.

And that’s the point. Grief is a process. And I will continue to work through the triggers. I’ll think. Cry. Think. Crochet. Think. Process. Cry. And think some more. And I’ll be better and further along on the journey. But today, I feel what I feel. And mourn.

Queen For A Day

2011-07-24T15:41:00.000-05:00

One of the ideas that I heard over and over in my home growing up was of “giving up your rights”. The idea was not living as if the world owed you something. Sometimes you have to give up what you perceive as your “right”. For example, do I really have the right to not be cut off in traffic? Well, no. I don’t own the road. I share it with others. Others who are flawed and who do stupid stuff. So, if I believe that it is my “right” to not ever be cut off, then the 500 times a day I get cut off I’m going to be angry and/or frustrated. What’s the point in that? It's a simplistic example, but you get the idea.

I guess the underlying theme of that concept is being selfless. My mom really wanted us to understand gratitude and selflessness. She taught me from a very young age that serving others brings joy. It is rewarding in and of itself. This teaching came in a variety of ways, but I remember her talking about it a lot. Doing a job for someone else can and should bring joy.

Mixed in with these teachings were training in the traditional roles of wife and mother. My mom wanted me to know the joy of being a “good” wife and mother. She wanted me to learn the pleasure of taking care of my family. That sometimes even the dirtiest of jobs could be rewarding because of doing it for someone you love.

I learned these lessons well. I am a people pleaser by nature, so the idea of doing something for someone else bringing me pleasure makes sense.

But somewhere in there I think some of these good things went horribly wrong. In some of my relationships, pleasing the other person by giving up my rights caused me to lose my self. What I wanted and/or needed no longer mattered. Except that isn’t really true, of course. It DID matter. But I was so focused on pleasing the other person, keeping the peace, that my wants and needs went mostly unfulfilled. That kind of neglect isn’t sustainable forever.

I’m not actually blaming this on anyone. I made choices. But having had the last year to reflect on my life, I think all of this is significant. I think some healthy beliefs got polluted in my mind and in the pattern of my life.

The last months I’ve been doing things for myself. Physical things like growing my hair out and tanning. And emotional/spiritual things like “crochet therapy” and reading. All in an effort to rediscover the transforming me.

But I have found lately that it is something with which I still struggle. I’ve moved and have been decorating my new place. I bought new bedding for the master bedroom and things to coordinate in the master bath. What I picked is totally me. It’s beautiful and feminine, though not flowery or frilly. There are ten pillows on my bed that I love assembling each morning. It makes me feel utterly indulgent and peaceful to walk in to my home and see that pile of pillows neatly arranged. And the Bath and Body Work’s Lavender and Vanilla scent makes me feel like I’m at a spa every time I catch a whiff.

But I must admit that every choice and purchase has been a struggle. Not financially. Target and Walmart are my friends. But emotionally, I’ve struggled with buying things just for me. Choosing things that I like without worrying about what anyone else thinks. I’d ask my friend Kim about some small piece and she would say, “What do YOU like?” And I’d have to stop and think about it. It felt so selfish. And frankly, I didn't always know the answer.

On one of our Hobby Lobby visits, we were looking for something to hang in my bathroom, and she came across a piece with a crown like a queen. The colors were perfect. I was hesitant. A crown??? She said it was perfect because this was MY space. My little every day spa. I gave in. Later I spotted a piece that said “hers”. I joked about hanging it next to the crown. Kim loved it, and I reluctantly gave in. Though if I’m honest, a little part of me was pretty excited about it because I knew it would be cute and clever, but mostly, because it would have meaning.

Is there anything wrong with me being the queen of my home? I’m the only one living there after all. Why shouldn’t I choose what I want? I can’t think of a single reason. But it is still difficult. It makes me feel selfish.

Transformation is a process. I don’t think giving up “rights” equals giving up identity. Though I do think it’s connected to taking on the identity of Christ. I’ll keep chewing on it. But for now, I find that the line between selfish and having my own opinion feels as though it were drawn by an ultra fine tip pen. And while I am tentatively enjoying making these choices, don’t worry. I haven’t convinced myself that I’m the Queen of it all. =]

Crochet Therapy

2011-07-22T21:04:00.002-05:00

Fingers cruise on autopilot
Leaving my brain to wander

Double crochet
Chain, skip one
Double crochet again

Analyze from every angle
Intricate details I ponder

Double crochet
Chain, skip one
Double crochet again

Solutions swim around my head
Shape, reshape, shape shift some more

Double crochet
Chain, skip one
Double crochet again

Tears may fall or laughter bubble
Emotions free to dive and soar

Double crochet
Chain, skip one
Double crochet again

Soon Peace slips in with tiptoe stealth
My shoulders and eyelids drooped

Double crochet
Chain, skip one
Double crochet again

Muscles relax and breathing slows
Body and spirit regrouped

Double crochet
Chain, skip one
Double crochet and turn.

Written 4/28/11

Over the last year, I've had a lot of crochet therapy. The first was just for me.

These were for the friends who most know my heart.

And my latest project...

Someday I'll write about the part of my healing each represents. =]

Goodbyes

2011-07-12T09:57:00.000-05:00

Over the past two weeks I’ve had more goodbye coffee’s, lunches, suppers, and drinks than I can begin to count. Now, don’t get me wrong, I am extremely thankful for the many people in my life who love me enough to want to have individual time with me before I move. And, a number of these engagements were initiated by me, so they were definitely welcome. I’m all about closure and marking meaningful events. But goodbying grows tiring. (hmm…I bet there is a poem in that…)

The old Boys II Men song has gone through my head a dozen times throughout the process. You know the one, “It’s so hard, to say goodbye, to yesterday.” Of course being who I am, I started analyzing the song and decided I disagree with it.

It’s not difficult to say goodbye to yesterdays. It’s difficult to say goodbye to those who helped me survive and cope with yesterdays…

*My counselor buddies who are my go to peeps when the scary stuff comes in my office
*The two ministers who have truly pastored me in the last couple of years
*My alto angel
*Former co-teacher who truly gets me
*Old teaching buddy with the biggest heart in America
*Church gal who has known me from the beginning.

And that doesn’t even include my very best friends. I can’t begin to think about goodbying them yet.

So I’ve decided I’m done with goodbyes. When my dad was sick and in the hospital, he didn’t say goodbye. He always said, “see you later.”

Well, I better go get ready for the next “Later” lunch.

Abuse

2011-07-10T19:24:00.000-05:00

Who will know you’re hurt
If your wounds don’t bleed?
When your body aches with longing
And you are rejected yet again
And the shame squeezes tight
Choking out life
So that you gasp to breathe,
Who will see?

When who you are is lost
Erased by neglect and disinterest
Unwanted
Discarded
Replaced by something less
Someone weak and pitiful
And broken and scarred
Who will try to find you
if they don’t know you are missing?

Who will smell the fear
When you boldly speak the truth
Only to have it twisted with logic
Until you’re turned upside down
And inside out
And too stupid to know the difference?

Who will find you when you run
Far far away
Deep down inside
Curled up in a tiny ball
In the far away corner of your heart
Locked up tight?

Who will see the scabs
Grown over your bloodied trust
Making you doubt and insecure
Paralyzed
Flinching when someone gets too near
Your vulnerable places?

No one saw the blood
But it leaked out
Of raw and gaping wounds
A constant dripping
Oozing.

No one saw the bruises
That just barely began to heal
Green and purple
Before they were pushed and poked again
Like some sick game.

No one saw the tears
Or heard the body wracking sobs
Alone in the dark
Rejected
Unnoticed
Starved

I hurt.
I bled.
I scabbed.
I heal.

But is it real if no one saw it?
Is it less if it was only my heart?

Written 10/5/10

Feel What You Feel

2011-07-09T00:51:00.000-05:00

That may well be the best advice I’ve ever received. And the very wise friend who told me this continues to say it to me to this day. Why? Because I suck at it. I so much want to please others that I often start a conversation with apologies. I start giving all the disclaimers about my feelings before I even tell you what I want to say because I don’t want to hurt your feelings. (The previous blog is case in point.)

But I’m trying harder these days to feel what I feel. If I’m angry, I want to hug it tight for a time and see just what it feels like. And maybe listen to a little Pink or Seether or Tool. (Yes, it’s true. I know who they are, and I occasionally listen to them.)

Now I don’t want to hug that anger too tightly and too long because it will just morph into bitterness which is so sticky and tar-like it’s hard to clean off. But for a little bit, I need to feel it. Because if I don’t let myself feel it, then I fool myself into thinking that I never felt it in the first place. And then I’m believing a big fat lie.

I got pretty angry with God a while back. I held on to it for a good solid couple of months. I’d talk to my mom about it and flat out tell her I was angry with Him. I know it bothered her, but she didn’t fuss me about it. I think she knew I needed to squeeze it tight for a time.

I gave Him the silent treatment. Didn’t talk to Him. Quit listening to Christian radio. Very mature. I showed Him.

I’m happy to say we are on speaking terms again, but our relationship has forever been altered. I question Him a LOT more. I fuss at Him regularly. I complain. I argue. And occasionally, I still give Him the silent treatment. Fortunately, I think He can handle it. I actually think He prefers the more honest me even if it is occasionally like dealing with a petulant 5 year old. But I digress.

My point is, I think feeling what you feel is a good idea. It reminds me of a wine tasting. I’ve not ever met a wine I like personally, but I’ve watched some of those tasting shows on tv. They always swirl it around in their fancy glasses and really breathe in the aroma. Then they take a taste and swish it around in their mouths soaking up all the flavor…before spitting it out.

I think that’s a pretty good thing to do with emotions. You don’t have to get drunk on them, good or bad. But I think you should really experience their flavor.

Disclaimer

2011-07-07T12:07:00.001-05:00

Life is change. Over the past year, my life has changed dramatically, painfully, metamorphically. I’ve processed it with a few close friends and family, but I’ve also done a lot of writing. Those in my very inner circle have been my only audience, whether they liked it or not. But I’ve missed blogging.

I considered abandoning this one and starting over. But the more I’ve thought about it, the less that makes sense to me. One never truly has the luxury of starting over. There is no Mr. Clean Magic Eraser for real life. The events of our lives, and the way that we face them, make us who we are. Life is the crucible in which we are shaped, and hopefully, refined.

So, to abandon my original blog, seems to me, an attempt to Mr. Clean my past. I don’t wish to do that. Every experience of my life has contributed to who I am. I am not one to live in regret. I’ve made choices that make me beam with pride, and others that make me sad. But they were my choices. And I am at peace with them.

Just as I cannot alter the past, I also cannot deny the way the ripples of my life affect the waves of others. My nature is far too social for that. That said, I approach this blog fairly tentatively. Writing is an emotional outlet for me. Typically, I process things in my head and then with a trusted friend or two before condensing my thoughts into something written. That sometimes makes it all look neat and tidy, which is misleading. The writing is often the end result of a lot of hard emotional work. On the other hand, sometimes what I write is a sudden, gut wrenching spewing of emotional vomit. Not pretty.

Either way, it is a representation of my thoughts and feelings. No one else’s. It’s a glimpse into my head, my heart. No one else’s. It is the testimony of my life and thoughts from my view. No one else’s. I am fully aware that my view is not always shared by everyone else around me. It can’t be. Because my view of things is filtered through the lens of my past.

So there is this tight rope I walk with this blog. It is my desire to share of myself, my heart, honestly, without sugar coating. But, it is NOT my desire to cause pain to others. I don’t want my emotional vomit to upset someone else’s stomach.

If you are reading this, it is because you chose to. Just know that you will most likely be exposed to vomit, the stinky, chunky, projectile kind.

Interest

2009-09-16T17:01:00.001-05:00

I was reading Ephesians chapter 1 today and pretty much just had to stop after verse 14. What an amazing section of verses full of promises and affirmations of God’s love for me.

“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in the heavenly realms with every spiritual blessing in Christ. For he…”

…Chose us in him
…Predestined us to be adopted as his sons
…Freely gave us his glorious grace, redemption, and forgiveness
…Made known to us the mystery of his will

And then, best of all, “having believed, we were marked in him with a seal, the promised Holy Spirit, who is a deposit guaranteeing our inheritance until the redemption of those who are God’s possession.”

That’s me. I’m God’s possession.

He CHOSE me.

Who doesn’t want to be chosen? I don’t know about you, but I think being the last one chosen when teams are divided up, stinks. But God planned for my adoption well in advance and chose me to receive His incredible gifts of grace and redemption and forgiveness. And He did all of that….KNOWING…how terribly human I would be. I wasn’t the last one standing. I was chosen before the game was invented.

Not only that, but He loves me so much that He branded me with His mark so no one would wonder who I belong to. I am His. And He gave me the mark of His Holy Spirit. A deposit. A piece of Himself that guarantees my inheritance. Amazing.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about that deposit. About this Holy Spirit who often prompts me. I’ve been working hard to hear that call and answer. And it strikes me that THIS deposit is an interest bearing gift. He and I both reap the benefits of the interest every time I hear and answer. He is glorified; I am blessed. And best of all, I don’t have to wait until I “cash it in” in order to “cash in” on the interest!

He invested in me. AND, I get to earn interest. What’s not to like about this deal?

Answering the Call

2009-08-29T10:28:00.002-05:00

“…Samuel was lying down in the temple of the Lord, where the ark of God was. Then the Lord called Samuel. Samuel answered, ‘Here I am.’ And he ran to Eli and said, ‘Here I am; you called me.’ But Eli said, ‘I did not call; go back and lie down.’ So he went and lay down….The Lord called Samuel a third time, and Samuel got up and went to Eli and said, ‘Here I am; you called me.’ Then Eli realized that the Lord was calling the boy. So Eli told Samuel, ‘Go and lie down, and if he calls you, say, ‘Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.’ So Samuel went and lay down in his place. The Lord came and stood there, calling as at the other times, ‘Samuel! Samuel!’ Then Samuel said, ‘Speak, for your servant is listening.’”
I Samuel 3:3-10”

On the first day of school, I heard God’s call. I was registering lots of new students, and the attendance clerk called to let me know that there was a parent who wanted to speak to me. All I could think was, “What could possibly have gone wrong already that this mom needs to talk to the counselor?” In between new students, I went to the front office and met her. She was well put together and looked about like the other parents I’d been visiting with all morning. Nothing really outstanding about her.

All of that changed in my office as she told me her story. She has been in an abusive marriage for years. She divorced last school year. The economic downturn combined with a divorce lead to the repossession of their home. She and her 10 year old daughter are homeless. She is broken and afraid. She finally teared up as she said, “I never dreamed that at this point in my life I would be homeless. I am so ashamed.”

She and her daughter have a fantastic church family who has been supporting and helping them. I was so relieved to hear this part because I know how important church family is. Mom has everything, including financial aid, lined up to start classes at a local college in just a couple of weeks. She brought letters from the school and church friends to vouch for her. She brought her daughter’s outstanding report card, test scores, and metals.

Then it hit me. She was trying to convince me to allow her daughter to attend our school. Sometimes I’m slow...but I get there. I immediately reassured her that her daughter was already scheduled in a class because she had been in our schools last year. There are rules that protect people who are considered homeless. She was so relieved. Then we got down to the business of figuring out supplies and getting her registered.

I can’t tell you how impressive this little momma is. She has a plan. She is desperate and afraid but she has chosen a path of survival. She worries about her little girl being successful in school. She worries about her baby being ashamed of her momma. But what I saw was a woman who was showing her little girl what it means to fight, to survive, to do whatever it takes to move forward when everything in life seems to be holding her back.

We were on our way back to the front office when I heard the call. It wasn’t like Samuel. There wasn’t a voice calling my name, nothing so dramatic as that, but it was there. A prompting. Not even very insistent, but it was there. And I stopped walking. The mom nearly bumped into me. I turned and asked her if we could go back to my office for one more thing. She said sure; so we went back.

I shut the door behind us and turned and asked her if I could pray for her before she left. She completely broke down crying and nodded yes. I reached out to take her hands and she stepped right in and wrapped her arms around my waste in a desperate hug. I prayed for her. I prayed for her daughter. I have no idea where some of the words came from...well, yes I do. The Spirit gave me just the right words to pray for her and minister to her. When we finished I told her that I thought God had sent her to me today and she agreed.

That experience was one of the most powerful ministering opportunities I’ve had with a parent. It was amazing. The telling of it here is just pretty straightforward and factual, but if you asked me about it in person, I think you would understand more fully just how powerful it was.

I have every intention of following up with this mom and daughter. This little girl will be more than just a name on somebody’s roll. But the thing about this whole experience that keeps nagging at me the most is hearing the call.

I know God calls me all the time. Like Samuel, sometimes I don’t recognize it as God’s voice. Other times, I hear, but I don’t stop to listen and obey. I’m not going to sit around beating myself up about it, but I think it is worth pondering. It’s worth mulling over and chewing on because I would hate to have missed this opportunity. It was too precious.

At the end of I Samuel chapter 3, it says, “The Lord was with Samuel as he grew up, and he let none of his words fall to the ground.” I want the Lord to be with me as I grow up. And I pray that I won’t let his words fall to the ground either.

Traditions

2009-08-01T11:54:00.002-05:00

Written Monday, July 27

Tonight, I’m reminded of the importance of traditions. About four years ago, my oldest brother and his two kids began coming to my house for Thanksgiving. It was the first Thanksgiving after his divorce, and it occurred to me that he might not have plans. So I invited them. Wisely, he made the 10 hour drive from Houston to Amarillo an adventure. They got up very early in the morning to leave, like 4am early. I think it was partially due to these trips that began in my nephews an appreciation for their dad’s music – Queen, Johnny Cash, Journey – they’d sing at the top of their lungs. And along the way, they occasionally stopped for a rock climbing adventure. All new traditions.

Being the planner that I am, I’d prepare for their trip by making a menu for the week. I did it for myself, but my nephews would consult the refrigerator-posted list multiple times throughout each day. I also began posting a list of possible activities for us to do for the week; long hours were spent discussing, arguing about, and voting on which activities we would do.

And then there is the actual food, most notably Aunt Laura’s rolls. The rolls are, in fact, a recipe from my sister-in-law – homemade yeast rolls. I must admit that they really are one of the tastiest foods of all time, but they are also, most certainly, a labor of love. The rolls have become synonymous with visits to Aunt Laura. They are bragged about at other tables throughout the year. Others who make the same recipe, including my own mother, fall short. According to my nephews, they are substandard if Aunt Laura didn’t make them.

There are other traditions of course, monkey bread, apple pie, lights off golf, trips to the park, fake gross out menus, marathon book reading, and letting Aunt Laura take all the pictures she wants.

And then there are ranch traditions. My husband’s family has a ranch in New Mexico. The ranch is a place filled with rich history and tradition. When I married into the family, I listened to all the old stories, true and otherwise. When the boys came with me to the ranch, they heard the same ones. And we began new traditions, dirt biking trips, 4 wheeling, cold attic sleeping, tune-out-the-world reading, Capulin climbing, pancake eating, and bow and arrow shooting. And somewhere in there, Aunt Laura became the ranching, gunshooting, snake killing, history telling, 4-wheeling--expert. Go figure.

My brother just remarried and now has two more kids. When we met up at the ranch today, the new kids’ heads were already full of tradition dreams. They wanted to see the menu and know if rolls were on it. We’ve already been dirt biking and 4 wheeling, and a trip to the mountain is in the works. And between now and the next time they visit, the traditions will be revisited, relished, savored.

When we went to town for supper tonight, a chili-cheese fry tradition, my youngest nephew wrapped an arm around my neck and climbed into my lap. He looked right into my eyes, with a twinkle in his, and said, “Do you remember when….”. And the reliving of traditions began. And later when he was heading to bed, he hugged my neck and planted a kiss on my cheek and asked if I’d be putting a menu up on the refrigerator. How could I not?

Someday it may not be cool to hug Aunt Laura anymore. And someday he won’t climb in my lap. But for now, I will savor the traditions and hold the precious memories they create close to my heart. Because isn’t that what these silly traditions are really all about anyway?

Confession

2009-07-16T17:07:00.001-05:00

I am a sinner. This isn’t any new revelation; I grew up in church, so I understand the concept. I’m a sinner, saved by grace…blah, blah, blah. The thing that is different for me lately is that I find myself struggling with sin constantly. And maybe that isn’t new either. Maybe what is different is the kind of sin I’m struggling with. Or maybe it is just that I am more aware of my struggle with sin lately.

I guess if I’m brutally honest though, the real difference is that I find myself so enjoying the sin that I’m really NOT struggling at all. I’m just sinning. It’s just so enticing. Numbing even. You get into some sin and it just becomes normal, habit, not so bad compared to stuff the “real” sinners are doing.

I have been fighting this battle for several months. My spirit has always been sensitive though, so in the back of my mind, it’s been bothering me. And I have been actively pushing those convicting thoughts aside. Consciously ignoring God’s prompting. Willfully, stubbornly doing what I want to do. But man is He persistent.

A while back I started hearing a song by Jars of Clay. It talks about how with one hand I’m pulling God closer, but with the other hand, I’m pushing Him away. But if I had two hands, doing the same thing…

That is so me. Deep down, I desire to be a disciple of Christ. I want to know Him more daily, be closer to Him, walk with Him. But on the other hand, I want to do what I want to do. Period. I know Paul experienced the same thing. He talks about the war that rages inside of us. Doing the things we don’t want to do…

But God has just kept chasing me. I started praying a few weeks ago that I’d want to quit sinning. Not that I would quit…I just wasn’t there yet. Just for the desire to do right. Maybe that isn’t what I should have been praying, but I knew that praying for forgiveness was a big fat lie. Because I had no intention of turning away from the sin. So, I prayed that I’d want to quit sinning.

Nothing profound happened. I didn’t have any kind of miraculous breakthrough. But I began thinking about the possibility of not sinning. I began thinking about what would have to happen to make that a reality.

Sunday, in praise team practice, we sang “Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing”. For the second verse, we sang a more recent version.

I was lost in utter darkness, Till you came and rescued me.
I was bound by all my sin when Your love came and set me free.

There is more to the verse, but that is the part that hit me. The visual of being bound, shackled, by my sin. Then I started thinking about the old story of how you train an elephant. When he is little, you chain him up. He learns that he can’t get free. When he gets older and bigger, you can just tie him up with a rope because he has learned that he is bound and can’t escape, so he doesn’t even try.

I started thinking that I had become bound by a rope. I wasn’t even trying to escape. A comfortable prisoner. A stupid elephant.

After church, I spoke with our pastor Brian. Let me just pause here to say that I have consciously started referring to Brian as a pastor because he is. He is certainly a good preacher, but he has become a pastor to me. So…I know that makes some people uncomfortable, but whatever. He pastors me.

Anyway, I asked Brian to keep me in his prayers about this sin struggle. I gave him the 3 minute version as people are always standing around waiting to talk to him (he pastors other people too). I even confessed to him that I wasn’t particularly wanting to quit sinning. He got that. He told me the sin metaphor about two dogs raging within us. The “good dog” and the “bad dog”. And the way to conquer the “bad dog” is to starve it, while simultaneously feeding the “good dog”. That made sense to me. Then he prayed with me, and we went on our separate ways.

Being the weak and pitiful sinner that I am, I left there thinking, “I don’t even want to starve the ‘bad dog’” So, I wimpishly prayed that God would remove opportunities for me to feed the “bad dog”. And being the amazingly graceful and faithful God that He is, He has been doing that. And that led me to the place where I don’t want to sin anymore. It just kind of snuck up on me. I’m ready to quit. After months of struggle, I finally desire to do right…with both hands.

I’m a sinner. I know this particular struggle isn’t over. I will continue to pray that I won’t encounter “bad dog” food. I’ll also keep praying for a desire for holiness.

So why in the world am I sharing this? Because I figure I’m not the only sinner out there. And admitting to it isn’t always popular. So I thought maybe someone might benefit from knowing a fellow closet sinner. Kind of like going to AA. Hi, my name is ______and I’m a sinner. And in some ways, for me, this feeds the “good dog”.

Book Recommendation

2008-10-09T22:37:00.003-05:00

I just finished reading the book Same Kind of Different as Me. Literally, I just finished it. It is an awesome book. Go buy it and read it tomorrow. It is the true story of an international art dealer and a homeless man and the life changing way God brings them together. Unbelievable. You will laugh, cry, and question.

It is just one more reminder that life is about relationships. If you want to make a difference in this world, enter into an authentic relationship with another mere mortal and love him the same way God loves you. And if you are really daring, try loving someone you think is unlovable.

The Great Fear

2008-10-04T12:28:00.002-05:00

Last year was a difficult one for me professionally as it seemed the focus of my job went from counseling to “other duties as assigned”, the primary other duty being state testing. I don’t love the stress of testing, but I have to admit that the organization of it appeals to my controlling side that loves to create order out of chaos. It is a beautiful thing to see it all come together after so many weeks of frantic planning and frenzied sorting, bubbling, and training.

By February I was in full testing mode and very little counseling was happening. To make matters worse, this was the year that the other counselor’s status had changed from full time to a split position between my school and another. In years past, I knew that if I wasn’t seeing kids during testing season, someone else was. Not this time.

So, frustrated and disheartened, I began to actively look for another job because “I wasn’t getting to be a counselor anymore.”

With each application I prayed that if it was the right job for me, I would get an offer, and if it wasn’t, I wouldn’t. This was the fleece I was putting out to verify what God wanted from me. Four separate opportunities came and went. And though I was disappointed, I became convinced that God already had me right where He wanted me. So I started this year feeling pretty ambivalent; I wanted to be where God wanted me, but I was pretty sure He had made a mistake.

In the meantime, I was invited to join a small book club who met Wednesday mornings at 7 a.m. I readily agreed and was super excited about the new book they were starting, The Shack, by William P. Young. I’d been hearing about this book and planned to read it anyway, so I jumped right in.

Usually, I read a book in 2 to 3 days. This one is way too meaty for rushing. When my little brother was much younger, he had many dietary problems. But one of the things that I found particularly strange was the way he would keep a piece of meat in his mouth for literally hours. He’d just keep chewing and chewing without swallowing.

The first section of The Shack was like this for me. Young sets up the book by telling about a very tragic event in Mack’s (the main character’s) life that leads to The Great Sadness. I kept chewing and chewing on the words he used to describe it: overanxious, panicky, paralyzed, overwhelmed, angry, swept helplessly away.

I can so relate to Mack. Young writes, “Almost succumbing to the sudden blackness that threatened to smother him, Mack leaned on the table to keep from passing out or throwing up.” There were days last year when that was how I felt.

And over several weeks, I continued to chew on those words that so resonated with me. They puzzled me though because they made sense when my experience wasn’t at all like Mack’s. Unlike Mack, I wasn’t feeling particularly sad. So I kept chewing until one day I figured out what it was I was tasting in those words.

It was kind of like the close up, CSI view of the tumblers on a fancy lock all falling into place and then CLICK, that distinctive sound of everything coming together. I realized that what I had tasted in those words was not sadness but fear.

I am very much afraid of being a counselor! Counseling is very scary work. When a 10 year old walks in and tells you about how she has been sexually abused for years and she’s never told anyone before…it’s terrifying.

Or perhaps the one who comes crying with a broken heart because on some crazy whim his father is no longer allowing his son to call him “dad”. How am I supposed to fix that?

Or what about when you’ve done the hard stuff, made the reports, and now you have to go to court and be cross examined by four different lawyers with four separate agendas that don't seem to take into account several very lost and afraid children? It gives me the shivers just remembering it.

And cutting, this new (to me) phenomena where people feel compelled to inflict physical pain on themselves because they are so desperate to feel something, even if it is pain. I can't even begin to relate to that. Scary.

Somewhere along the way, The Great Fear descended on me and I became paralyzed at the thought of what might walk in my office next.

So testing, and all the craziness that comes with it, had become my escape. My problem wasn’t that I wanted to do more counseling; I wanted to do less! And when I thought back on all those job opportunities, I realized they all had one thing in common: less counseling. Less delving into the sticky, yucky, scary mess of relationships.

But God, in His infinite wisdom has not let me off the hook. He didn’t let me run away because He has me right where He wants me. Only, He wants me to face The Great Fear and get back to doing the job He has already given me—counseling.

I’ve begun to do just that, but not alone. It was during the first week that kids came back to school that my enlightenment happened, and I began praying daily for God to give me the courage to walk in to The Great Fear in order to fulfill my mission as His disciple. And what exciting times the first six weeks have been!

It's Not About The House

2008-09-28T14:28:00.002-05:00

This is really long, but it's a story I've been wanting to tell for a couple of months now.

Since we have been attending at Southwest, one of the really important lessons that has taken hold in my heart is that Christianity, evangelism, etc. is about relationships. It’s about getting connected to people, in all their goodness and muck, and being Christ to them. One of the ways that this concept has been put into practice is through a group of men that gets together with our preacher in his basement. The “basement boys” are all about confessing sin and victory, holding each other accountable, and just being in relationship with each other for the purpose of becoming more like Christ. The more I heard about this group, the more I wanted to be in a group like it. So, starting in about January, I really began to mull over the idea of beginning a group like the “basement boys”.

Around the end of May, my husband came across a house that we thought was pretty amazing. We had been discussing the idea of moving for a couple of years, but weren’t in any great hurry. In our discussions, we had come up with a pretty specific list of things we wanted in a house, one that I thought was probably pretty lofty for a good long time. But then we happened along this house on Gary St.

Of course, this brought our discussions about selling our house and buying another one right to the forefront of our minds. When we got home from our ranch trips, I decided to find a realtor and just see if this house was as great as we thought it was or if there were others out there. At the time, it seemed like it fit all of the things we wanted and so I wondered if it was truly unique.

I discovered pretty quickly that the Gary house was NOT unique. There were actually quite a few houses out there that came pretty close to fitting most of the things that we wanted. After about a week of looking at what felt like a million houses, I found one that seemed like the perfect fit for our wish list. It had room for both of us to have an office, plus a guest room, and it had a fantastic shop. But what I really loved about it was the living space. It had a large living room that was open to the dining room and also open to a den that was added on to the original house. When I stood in the kitchen and looked out into those rooms, I began to envision life group, scrapbooking, and maybe even a space for my own version of the “basement boys”. The flicker of longing to begin a group was being fanned into a small but steady flame.

On one of those house searching days, I stopped by N’s office just to chat and got a phone call from our realtor while I was there. The price on the house I liked had been reduced by ten thousand dollars and she wondered if I wanted to show it to N. Of course I did, so we made an appointment to meet there. My second visit to the house was even better than the first. All I could think about was how great of a house it would be for entertaining and how perfect for starting “the group”. N loved the house too; the flame grew.

Unfortunately, we were not in a place to make an offer on this wonderful house. Our house wasn’t even on the market, and we sure couldn’t have two houses. So, after much discussion, we decided to get ours ready, put it on the market, and then make an offer.

In the mean time, we went back to our dream house for one more look. This time, when I walked in the house, I immediately told God that if He gave us this house or one like it, I would give it back to Him. I told Him I’d have ladies in, get in relationship, and really allow Him to work through those relationships to transform me.

We spent about ten days packing up all the excess in our current house and moving it out to storage. Then I cleaned, repaired, painted, and staged our house so that it was show ready. Our realtor was thrilled because we were willing to do most anything she suggested. Our thinking was that we wanted to do everything we could to get it sold, and if that meant living in Whoville for a while, we were willing.

From the first day it listed, we had lots of lookers. And I began to imagine what it would be like to have the house we wanted. In under a week, God sent a buyer, and we had a full price contract on our house to close in just weeks. We turned around and negotiated a contract on the dream house the next day. And though I was very excited, I couldn’t help but remember the promise I’d made to God and be just a little nervous about what I’d done.

But that didn’t stop me from beginning to actually imagine how each room would be used and arranged and salivating over the storage prospects.

And then our contract fell through; she backed out. And we were so disappointed. I asked God why? Didn’t He want me to do what I’d promised?

And this was His answer, “It’s not about the house”.

And I knew immediately that He was right. I didn’t need a new house to begin delving into life changing relationships. And though I hated to do it, I thanked Him for sending the perfect contract and then allowing it to fall through. Because before that I was so focused on the house that I had missed what He really wanted for me.

The following week I began meeting with a friend for the purpose of becoming a “basement boys” type of group. And we met in our old house. And the things that God revealed to both of us in just that first meeting were some of the most powerful lessons of God I’ve ever learned.

It really wasn’t about the house.

But that didn’t stop me from praying that God would send us a cash offer for our house that would allow us to still close on our old house on the originally scheduled date and close on the dream house the very next day.

And He did.

In just one day shy of four weeks, we got our house ready to sell, listed it, sold it, bought a new one, and moved.

Actually, what really happened is this…in one day shy of four weeks, God taught me an incredibly important lesson, blessed us beyond what we ever deserved, showed us His faithful love in an incredibly powerful and memorable way, and put me in a deep spiritual relationship with another woman that has already been life changing.

God is so good.

Appliance Survey

2008-08-14T07:38:00.002-05:00

We are going to be buying new washer, dryer, and refrigerator this week. I'm curious if any of you have clear preferences on top loading vs. front loading? Also, what about side by side vs. freezer on top or bottom of the refrigerator? If any of you have an opinion, I'd love to hear it...even you secret readers who never leave comments.

Please continue to pray that all goes smoothly through closing. Saturday at midnight is the end of our buyer's option time. We close on our house Monday morning and the new house Tuesday morning. We seriously appreciate all of your prayers about it.

I have a whole new respect for people who have to move around frequently. It is exciting, but it is wearing me out. I'm ok if we never have to move again!

Brief Update

2008-08-12T07:47:00.003-05:00

We have a new contract on our house. It isn't quite as good as what we had hoped, but they are paying cash. That means that we will be able to close and move on the originally scheduled dates, August 18 and 19. Praise God! And keep praying that this contract sticks!

On another note, I just have to say again how much I love Southwest c of C. Every worship I leave feeling challenged, filled, and equipped to be a disciple the rest of the week. God has been so good to us.

D.C. al fine

2008-08-03T22:03:00.004-05:00

And Lord, haste the day when the faith shall be sight.
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll.
The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend.
Even so, it is well with my soul.

I totally thought I was done with this song, because frankly, I'm not one of those people who usually longs for the Lord to return right now. I always think about the things I'd still like to do and experience. I tend to think that it is older folks who really sing with gusto on this verse.

But tonight, I got to experience something that made me long to hear that trumpet sound and see the Lord descend. Our church had a combined service with the other big church of Christ in town. The worship ministers from both places lead us in worship that was entirely singing and reading scripture. Or course, since it was a Sunday night, it was a smaller crowd from both churches, but large enough to fill the chapel. And, as usually happens, it was a group who wanted to sing.

And sing we did. It took my breath away. I have a friend who gives me a hard time(not in a bad way) about being a member of the church of Christ, and more specifically about singing a capella. I wish she could have been there. I think she would have been blown away by not only the beautiful singing but also the moving of the Spirit in that place. It felt like a little bit of heaven.

Tomorrow is my first day back to work, and I haven't really been looking forward to it. I had a difficult year last year, and I've been somewhat apprehensive about what this year might hold. I can't think of a better way to get in the right frame of mind to go back than by the drink of Oasis I got to experience tonight.

Same Song, Different Verse

2008-08-02T20:40:00.003-05:00

When peace, like a river, attendath my way.

When sorrows, like sea billows, roll.

Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,

It is well. It is well, with my soul.

On our way to dinner, in honor of our eleventh wedding anniversary, we got a phone call from our realtor. She let us know that the woman with whom we had a contract on our house backed out. So, we are headed back to Whoville. The magic lines on the carpet should be in place before we leave for church tomorrow. Even so, it is still well, with my soul.

And in honor of our 11th anniversary, here are 11 things that I love about my beloved.

1. He makes me laugh every single day.
2. He gives me a great deal on computer repair. He fixes it; I give him...whatever. ;)
3. He helps me to remember that worry is a waste of energy.
4. He is very handy...oh, and he can fix stuff too.
5. He makes me laugh at myself.
6. He willingly completes my mom's honey-do list when we visit.
7. He always drives, even on long trips.
8. He taught me to shoot a gun and drive an ATV.
9. He doesn't get uncomfortable when I cry.
10. He LOVES to talk about his feelings.
11. He might call me a "Smoochmonger", but he gives me as many as I want anyway.

A Classic

2008-08-01T23:59:00.002-05:00

I love all of the new praise and worship songs we sing. But we sang one of my "older" favorites this Wednesday and it's been on my mind every since.

My sin, oh the bliss of this glorious thought.
My sin, not in part, but the whole.
Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more.
Praise the Lord.
Praise the Lord, Oh my soul.

Knowing this truth, it is indeed well with my soul.

Wrestling Match

2008-07-31T14:51:00.002-05:00

Ephesians 4:17-19 “So I tell you this, and insist on it in the Lord, that you must no longer live as the Gentiles do, in the futility of their thinking. They are darkened in their understanding and separated from the life of God because of the ignorance that is in them due to the hardening of their hearts. Having lost all sensitivity, they have given themselves over to sensuality so as to indulge in every kind of impurity, with a continual lust for more.”

I truly hated the sermon this Sunday morning. Brian talked to us about the agreements that we have made with Satan, lies that Satan has whispered to us that we have accepted, or as the scripture words it, ways that our understanding has been darkened that cause us to somehow be separated from the life of Christ. One of the examples he gave was about a son who broke his father’s trust. So, the father slowly came to accept the lie that he could never trust his son again and furthermore, could never really trust anyone. You can imagine how believing that lie might affect the rest of your life and keep you from the fullness of life in Christ.

That got me to thinking about the kids I work with who believe all sorts of lies like, “I’m stupid,” “No one likes me,” “I can’t do math,” or even “I’m a good friend.” But then I started thinking about the lies I sometimes believe that make it OK for me to sin. Things like “It’s not hurting anyone,” “It helps me to be a better wife/counselor/daughter/fill in the blank,” or even the ever popular “Everyone does it…even Christians”.

Can you see why I hated this sermon? For some reason, while I was listening on Sunday, God brought to mind a particular area in my life that is a struggle. I started to wonder if maybe I’d made some agreements that were darkening my understanding and causing me to lose all sensitivity. And of course, since I went and asked God to show me those agreements (what was I thinking?), he began to bring them to mind. And because I like this particular sin and am not eager to give it up, I began a bit of a wrestling match with the Lord. OK, a really big wrestling match. It was all I could think about; some of those agreements were so much a part of my normal thought process and justification process that it was really hard to get to truth…especially because part of me just really didn’t want to see it. I like the lie better. (I can be pretty stubborn sometimes.)

After much agonizing and analyzing and general stubbornness, I decided that God was probably right, and I was probably wrong…go figure. So, I talked to Him about it and worked it all out. For now. We may wrestle about it again sometime, but I’m hoping that the scars will be good enough reminders that I won’t go there again.

Unfortunately, He has been showing me some other areas of agreement that I need to work on. Probably the biggest lie of all is that because I don’t do the “big” sins…murder, stealing, etc….that I’m OK and have it all together. Talk about living in ignorance.

This whole being a disciple of Christ thing is painful sometimes, but I think I'd rather wrestle than be "separated from the life of God".

Contracts

2008-07-30T10:27:00.002-05:00

Just a quick update to let you know that we got a great offer on our house on Monday. As of yesterday afternoon, our house is under contract, and we have a contract on the house we wish to buy. Very exciting.

Please pray that all goes well until closing.

Center Stage

2008-07-23T23:39:00.003-05:00

Our house is officially ready to show and listed as of this morning. Our realtor, whom I love, is a big proponent of "staging" a house to sell. I figured that since we are paying her good money, or will be when the house sells, I'd follow her advice. The house looks great, but there are some interesting phenomena that happen in a staged house; it's kind of like living in Whoville.

In A Staged Home...

1. No trash is produced...that is why you never see any trash cans.
2. No noses run...that is why you don't see any Kleenex boxes.
3. Dishes are never dirty...
4. Laundry is always clean and put away...
5. People don't run around in their underwear...how could you, the blinds are always open.
6. It never smells of fried food or other smelly cooking...just check the outlets for plug ins.
7. Music is always playing softly in the background.
8. Kitchen cabinets are neat and orderly with the cans and spices organized and facing forward...not unlike Sleeping with the Enemy.
9. Throw pillows are always where they should be.
10. The bathroom is always clean.

I don't mind living in Whoville for a time, but I'm not sure I can keep this up too long. Pray that our house sells quickly!

Welcome to the Craziness

2008-07-15T08:45:00.002-05:00

Okay, it's been forever. So I'll just list some of our recent adventures in no particular order.

1. Whirlwind trip to Houston for brother's graduation.
2. Three hour WalMart trip for groceries for the Shannons.
3. Week long trip to Click ranch with the Shannon's (my side of the family).
4. Shot two rattlesnakes...have the rattles to prove it.
5. Three hour WalMart trip for groceries for the Clicks.
6. Week long trip to Click ranch with the Clicks.
7. Baby therapy with Emma and Ella.
8. Lots of jumpiness as many things sound like the rattle of rattlesnakes.
9. Decided we need a bigger house.
10. Spent two days looking at houses.
11. Found dream home.
12. Decided we must sell ours first.
13. Decided to get it ready in just a week.
14. Taking lots of Advil for cleaning/packing soreness.
15. Overseeing ranch improvements in the midst of house craziness.
16. Booked flight and room for Portell wedding.
17. Read 15-20 books on ranch trips.
18. No reading now; must clean/pack.
19. Decided having the house staged is a good idea.
20. Moving all but essentials to storage unit.
21. Discovered that ice cream scoops were not considered essential. What?@!
22. Became World of Warcraft addict.
23. Having WoW withdrawals because of cleaning and packing.
24. Pursued several job possibilities/interviews.
25. Feeling God's protection and staying right where I am for now.

Well, there it is in a nutshell...kind of. I've been keeping up with the family posts, but not commenting. I know, that's evil. I'm also feeling great sympathy for Tyler and Kelly and their many moves. I'm hoping this is the last time for us forever! Would love to hear if any of the rest of you are going to the wedding. Well, I must go pack and clean some more.

The Results Are In

2008-06-26T10:16:00.002-05:00

I know it's been a long time, but life has been hectic and blogging just hasn't been top priority. Just to let you know though, we are well and happy, however busy.

I thought it important though to share with you the results of a 9 month research study. The bottom line is that Santa does NOT visit twice in a year regardless of leaving Christmas tree, stockings, and other holiday decor up around the house. I can tell you for sure, it just won't happen.

So, I concluded my study today and took everything down.

Problem Solving

2008-04-13T21:52:00.002-05:00

Last week out on break duty, a 6th grade girl came running up to me all out of breath to tell on herself. She said, "Mrs. Click, I just...I just pushed down (insert boy name)."

I said, "Okay," waiting to hear the rest of it.

Gasping for breath, she said, "Well, he was chasing me with a handful of rocks and said he was going to put them down my shirt."

I looked at her and the witnesses she had brought with her and said, "Well, it looks like you already took care of the problem."

The girls all smiled and went on their way.

Perhaps I should have talked to her about the inappropriateness of pushing students down, but I could barely keep from laughing. I thought her solution to the problem was perfect. She didn't squeal and run, thus causing the boy to give chase. She simply shoved him down. He left her alone.

And he never came to me and complained about being pushed down.

I figured it was problem solving at its best.

The Shadows

2008-04-07T20:34:00.002-05:00

Over the last couple of weeks, our small group has been looking at 1 John. We've had several discussions about what it means to walk in the light. It has caused me to think a lot about the time I spend in the shadows. Not quite in the light. Not quite in darkness.

"God is light; in him there is no darkness at all. If we claim to have fellowship with him yet walk in the darkness, we lie and do not live by the truth. But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, his Son, purifies us from all sin."

"Anyone who claims to be in the light but hates his brother is still in the darkness...he does not know where he is going, because the darkness has blinded him."

The Shadows

In the Shadows
I feel safe.

I can see the Light,
But still, I’m hidden.
No one can see my shame.

The Light compels me though,
And for a time I bask in the Son.
I close my eyes and feel the warmth.

But sometimes I stumble.
and when I open my eyes and look around
I see that I’m in the edge of the Shadow again
and I didn’t even know it.

It feels comfortable.
And safe.
But Darkness lurks in the shadows.

Even though I walk through the valley
of the shadow of death
I will fear no evil,
for you are with me.

Post Spring Break Update

2008-03-26T20:43:00.002-05:00

Spring Break wasn't terribly exciting around here. N of course was working, so no big trips or anything scheduled. The first weekend of the break I headed out of town to a friend's ranch for a Scrapbooking Retreat. That was a total blast. I spent the whole weekend in a big room with six girls all around my age. We talked and laughed all weekend. I haven't laughed that hard in a long time; it was painful. I also completed 15 pages in my family album which is the most I've ever done at one time before.

The rest of the break I read a couple of books and crocheted. I volunteered to make a baby afghan for my sister-in-law's new baby coming in June. She always makes them for everyone else, and the grandmother who inspired her to learn to crochet died a couple of years ago. So, I knew she would really appreciate getting one. Come to find out, she's having twins. So I've been crocheting my heart out trying to get done. I'm thinking she'll probably have the girls early, so I've got to get them done. And of course I had already chosen a particularly lengthy pattern before I knew I'd be making two. Honestly though, it probably wouldn't have made any difference because it is such a cute blanket and goes so perfectly with their nursery that I'd have probably chosen it anyway. I'm hoping to finish the first one this weekend.

At first I was a little intimidated about having this project going in the middle of testing. As it turns out though, it is such a relaxing activity that I'm sort of happy to have a project to work on in the evenings.

That's pretty much it for spring break. Nothing major accomplished, but it sure was relaxing. And that was a very good thing.

And no, I have not taken the tree down yet. :)

Oh Christmas Tree

2008-03-13T20:04:00.006-05:00

This year has been a crazy blur for me. Since Christmas, my husband and I have both been sick several times: flu, upper respiratory infection, allergies, sinus infection. You name it; we've had it. Add to that N starting a new job and me trying to get all the new wrinkles in testing ironed out, a weekend visit from a niece, Valentine's day, N's birthday, finding a life group, getting involved in new things at church...we've been busy.

In the midst of all the craziness, my Christmas decorations somehow got overlooked. I must confess that my tree is still up and the stockings are still hung with care. The lights on the tree are plugged into a switch that I turn on every day when I get home. People driving by in the evenings can still see the warm glow of our lights through the front window.

I was thinking about it this week because a friend stopped by and commented on the feel of Christmas in the air in our home. So I was looking at my tree, which is decorated with a cowboy theme, and decided that it isn't Christmasy at all. It's a Cowboy Tree. It's decorative. It's all part of the home decor master plan. It could stay up year round.

I figure if the husband and dog are happy and healthy, who cares about a little extra twinkling in the living room. It's mood lighting. And it may or may not come down over Spring Break.

Journeys

2008-03-07T21:50:00.004-06:00

A little over two years ago, my husband and I began the painful process of looking for a new church. I say painful because it was hard to leave the one we belonged to because they are family. We love them and feel no ill will toward them, but we knew that for our own spiritual growth we needed to do something different. (BTW, I think it SHOULD be somewhat painful to leave a congregation. When you invest so much of yourself, you should expect some pain if you leave. I think it helps keep people from constantly being church hoppers…but I digress.)

We started visiting the local churches of Christ but didn’t really find a good fit. Eventually, we ended up visiting a church in another community that we had originally not intended to visit for that very reason; it was in another community. There were a lot of good things going on there, and we have family there, so we stepped easily into relationship with them. We ended up being there for 8 or 9 months. We were working in the sound room and attending regularly, but we hesitated to place membership because it just didn’t feel like home. We hated to leave family, but needed to see if we could find what was missing.

Eventually, we started looking again. By this time, we were really tired and frustrated. I don’t think that our expectation was to find a perfect church. We knew that didn’t exist. But what we were really craving was a church that had a clear vision of where they were going and friendly enough to let us in on the journey. I think that some of our friends thought we were being unreasonable or not trying hard enough to fit in, but the truth is, we knew what we were looking for and also knew we hadn’t found it yet. I began to wonder if we ever would.

So, we pulled out the phone book and started down the list. What an interesting and varied couple of months we had. Except for the congregations that have bilingual services, we visited every church of Christ on the list that we hadn’t already been to and a few that were in the non-denominational section. We met many nice people, most 30-50 years older than us, but sweet nonetheless. We met some ladies who still cover their heads in worship and who were quick to let me know that it was ok with them that I wore pants. They didn’t want me to feel uncomfortable. I didn’t, and I’m very sorry I made them feel that way. We found one unexpectedly young and friendly place, but they didn’t have any clear leadership which was important to us. We also discovered that there are about 8 small c of C’s in about a mile radius from our house. Who knew?

N and I grew up in church. Our parents were actively involved and so were we. When we married, we continued to be. So by this time we were feeling particularly forlorn. Homeless even. We decided to go back and revisit some of the larger congregations that we had previously discounted because of their size.

In November, we ended up visiting Southwest. The preaching blew us away. Brian is a great speaker, but what compelled me was not the eloquence of his sermons but the challenge of them. Every week, I left feeling revitalized. I began to long for the Word again, to be fed not just from the pulpit but outside the building. I wanted to be better, more like Christ.

And at some point, I began to realize that my desire to be more Christ-like was indeed their vision. Brian talked about it from the pulpit all the time – discipleship, getting into intimate community and relationship with one another in order to be more like Jesus.

In December, they had a special Holiday Happenings service on one Sunday evening. Brian talked about the Word being alive in our lives, and we sang the song The Word is Alive by Casting Crowns. Then he had the elders and their wives move to different stations in the auditorium that had signs such as - The Word is alive in my marriage. The Word is alive in my job. The Word is alive in my family.

Then, he challenged us to go to one of the various places and share with the elders (and wives) our needs, and they would pray for us. They played music quietly in the background and gave us about 20 minutes for this activity.

Well, this was definitely a new experience for us. But I was ready. We went to a station and talked with the couple for a few minutes, and then we huddled and prayed. By the end I was absolutely sobbing. We had to step out so I could pull myself together. In my memory, the only time any elders ever prayed for me or my family was when my dad was dying of cancer. I was really moved and began to think that something really special was going on here.

Since then we have continued to experience a leadership of elders and ministers who are all deeply and personally committed to the spiritual growth of every individual in the congregation. They are more than just a board of directors; they are shepherds. We finally placed membership a few weeks ago and really feel connected for the first time in a long time.

This whole process was extremely long and difficult, but God has been faithful. I believe that He has brought us to just the right place at just the right time. I know that this congregation is not without flaws, after all, it is made up of flawed human beings, just like us.

Anyway, I just wanted to share a bit of our journey. We are really excited to see where this new journey will take us and what God has in store. God has already been working on us and showing us time and again how faithful He is. But that is a story (or two) for another time.

Season Opener

2008-02-25T20:01:00.002-06:00

First of all, it's good to be back on. Apparently, my computer caught the flu from me...or something like that. My husband, myself, and my computer have all been sick. Once N and I were back on our feet, he was able to take a look at my computer. Sleeping with a computer guy definitely has its advantages.

Anyway, today marks the opening of testing season for me. My first big training of the year was this morning. I'd been working to prepare for this training and our first testing session for weeks as there are a number of new policies. And of course, I had to come up with procedures for how we'd implement the policies along with some handy dandy checklists. I'm a little over the top OCD about my testing day procedures and making sure things go smoothly. I guess signing on the dotted line for an entire campus will do that to you. I'd kind of like to keep my licenses, certifications, and job.

I just have to share two really awesome things that happened though. First, every person who was supposed to be at training, nearly forty people, was present and on time. And by on time, I mean they had their folders in hand, they had their food (I provided breakfast), they had Route 44's of caffeine, they had signed in, and they were looking at me with these faces that said, "teach me." Seriously. I was blown away. That has never happened before in the history of my TAKS trainings. The gentle reminder notes from me and somewhat stronger worded reminders from my principal paid off.

So I was just about to start off by telling everyone to hold their questions until the end when I see a teacher waving at me. At first I thought it was just a friendly, "you'll do great" kind of wave. But when she didn't stop, I acknowledged her. She proceeded to tell me that her science team traditionally starts their collaboration time out with a prayer. And since we were technically training during collaboration, would it be OK if we started with a prayer.

Of course I said, "absolutely". So, she started us with a prayer that was beautifully worded especially asking a blessing for me, our kids, and for our campus to remember that there is more to life than testing. It was really precious. I had to take some deep breaths to keep from starting the training out in tears. I just can't tell you how awesome that was; it set just the right tone for the entire training.

And what a blessing to work in a place where prayer is acceptable and welcome. It was a nice reminder of how good I have it...in spite of it being testing season.

Tattletale

2008-01-24T21:15:00.000-06:00

A few weeks ago, my principal made an announcement at school about an incident that had happened that morning on the bus. Apparently, a student opened the window on a bus and dropped a lead pipe out into traffic. The pipe hit a car and did several thousand dollars worth of damage. Our principal was appealing to our students to come forward and report any information that might be useful in tracking down the guilty parties.

I was sitting in the foyer of the counseling center when the announcement was made, and about five seconds after he finished speaking, a whole group of kids came flying around the corner in a race to the front office. I just had to laugh, because only in a school of fifth and sixth graders would a group storm to the principal to be first in line to tattle.

I thought about this incident last night at church while we were studying the 32nd Psalm. In the first five verses, David shows the juxtaposition of confessing sin versus not confessing sin.

1Blessed is he whose transgressions are forgiven, whose sins are covered. 2Blessed is the man whose sin the Lord does not count against him and in whose spirit is no deceit.

3When I kept silent, my bones wasted away through my groaning all day long. 4For day and night your hand was heavy upon me; my strength was sapped as in the heat of summer. 5Then I acknowledged my sin to you and did not cover up my iniquity. I said, "I will confess my transgressions to the Lord"--and you forgave the guilt of my sin.

I got to thinking that maybe I should be more childlike in my confession of sin. Instead of putting it off, ignoring it, or otherwise allowing sin to sap my strength, I should race to the Lord to tattle on myself just as soon as I hear His voice convicting me. He offers thirst-quenching forgiveness. What's not to like about that?

I think I'm going to try and be a better tattletale. I do, after all, have fantastic models of this daily. Perhaps each time one of them tattles to me, I will be prompted to offer up my own tales.

Give Me A Break

2008-01-22T19:55:00.000-06:00

Everyday from 11:20 a.m. until 11:55 a.m. I have the pleasure of break duty. This duty requires me to go outside with about 75-100 ten, eleven, and twelve year olds and monitor their break time. Of course it's just another word for recess, but for some reason, my principal thought it would sound more grown up for an intermediate school to have "break" instead of "recess."

Most days, it is an enjoyable break for me too. I get to breathe some fresh air, see the sun, and interact with some pretty sweet kids in a very relaxed atmosphere. Additionally, as a counselor who often deals with their social skills issues, it's pretty insightful to me to see them in their natural habitat interacting with others. Sometimes, it's pure comic relief to see the creative things they will come up with to do, like play football with a tennis shoe or see how many people can fit in one coat.

Occasionally, like today, we have to stay inside for break because it is too cold, rainy, windy, etc. These are the days I dread.

Imagine two adults in one half of a gym (PE is still happening on the other side) with 75-100 kids. Some of the kids are playing knockout at three goals or sitting on the sidelines and visiting with friends...their two official options. Add to that pairs of chasers and chasees pinballing through the knockout lines and over their sideline friends.

And then picture huddles of girls pretending to be in line but actually planning their strategy to attract the huddles of boys across the way who are pushing and shoving each other in order to impress previously mentioned girls. It's like a show on the Discovery channel...Games Girls Play: Prepubescent Mating Rituals and The Exciting World of Flirtation and Budding Love.

And lets not forget the tattlers. They're like gnats that buzz around me in a cloud. As soon as one is swatted away, another is there to take his place.

I am a rule follower by nature. I like order and organization. I like to peruse the school supply and home organization aisles of WalMart to see what's new...

Inside break makes me downright twitchy. If I were sitting, I'd probably be up against the gym wall, rocking and banging my head.

So today, to while away the time (in between yelling in my bull horn to put out fires), I amused myself by coming up with all the things I'd rather do than Inside Break.

1. Do five loads of laundry - all white socks.
2. Reread the TAKS Testing Coordinator Manual.
3. Teach calculus for an entire day.
4. Explain to 10 moms how their child could be making all A's and B's and still fail the TAKS test.
5. Listen to 7 teachers complain about curriculum and the administration.
6. Clean the boys restrooms in the 6th grade hall. Eeeks
7. Attend 5 ARD meetings with chatty parents and teachers back to back.
8. Teach 10 kids how to give "I" messages...I feel_______when____. I would like_____.
9. Listen to 25 kids in resource reading do a timed reading.
10.Counsel 5 ten year old girls in my office at once....Now that is desperate.

Superhero Dreams

2008-01-04T21:33:00.000-06:00

If I were a superhero, my name would be Polly Positive. I wouldn't bother with a cape or utility belt, but I'd never be without my Enthusiasm Socks. I'd fly to the rescue of those in the pit of despair. I'd equip them with magic red socks of their own that would give them supernatural hopefulness. And together, we would stomp out the enemy.

Negativity

A soul siphoning succubus,
She infiltrates with stealth.

Camouflaged as humor,
realism, the Devil’s advocate -
She paralyzes the positive
like the proverbial frog in the pot.

She was conceived by fear,
nurtured by doubt,
and brought to life by Choice-

Her legacy is passed
in whispers, rolling eyes,
and martyred sighs.

Only Choice can destroy Her.

Deliverance from the Lord of the Rings

2008-01-01T00:14:00.000-06:00

On Sunday I heard a really convicting sermon on God’s Deliverance. The series is taken from Exodus, and the text for this week was Exodus 5-15, God’s deliverance of the Israelites, Moses, the plagues, etc. The application had to do with God’s ability to deliver us from whatever that might be enslaving us…sin, doubt, selfishness, pride, materialism, etc.

The whole sermon has really stuck with me, but the verses I find so powerful are Exodus 14:13-14. “Moses answered the people, ‘Do not be afraid. Stand firm and you will see the deliverance the Lord will bring you today. The Egyptians you see today you will never see again. The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.’”

So tonight, my husband and I were watching the last installment in our Tolkien-athon, and I slipped into my “former English teacher analyzing the movie” mode. I was thinking about how Sam is the true hero and also more of the Christ figure in some ways than Frodo. And that lead me to thoughts about Frodo representing man and the burden of sin (the ring) that we carry around. The longer we hold onto it, the more it weighs us down and captures our mind, etc.

When Frodo finally reaches the volcano in Mordor where he has journeyed so long to leave the ring, he can’t seem to let go. Again, I thought about sin and how difficult it can be to let go. It’s like we fall in love with it just a little bit, and it becomes our Precious. Even though it is dragging us down, wearing us out, and ultimately leading us to a fiery death, we hold on.

And again, I think about what Moses said to the Israelites, “Do not be afraid. Stand firm…The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.” We need only to be still and let it go, “For we know that our old self was crucified with him so that the body of sin might be done away with, that we should no longer be slaves to sin – because anyone who has died has been freed from sin.”

I’m going to try to do this a little more and see if I can avoid having a finger gnawed off.

WARNING

2007-12-30T17:19:00.000-06:00

Over the past couple of years, my husband and I have been watching all of the different Star Trek series season by season. We’ve already watched Next Generation, Deep Space Nine, and we are nearly finished with Voyager. Since we have been home for the break, we’ve watched quite a bit more than usual, probably several seasons worth of Voyager in fact. During a recent outburst in which I tried to warn the television characters about the danger of disrupting the space time continuum, my husband pronounced me a genuine Trekkie. I insisted that he was wrong as I’m not one of those Klingon speaking, pointy ear wearing, weirdoes who goes costumed to those crazy conventions. I have to admit though that I might actually be displaying some troubling signs of Trekkie freakishness.

You might have inadvertently become a Trekkie if…

The paradox of disrupting the space time continuum no longer seem so complex…they actually make some sense.

You think it’s cool to have your picture taken with a Ferengi in Vegas.

You have a healthy appreciation of the Prime Directive.

You sometimes want to scrap the Prime Directive.

You are familiar with the many lives of Dax.

You occasionally have to step back from your irrational anger toward the arrogant Captain Janeway.

You say things like, “Make it so,” or “Indeed”, or even “You must comply”.

You can spot returning actors even if they play an entirely new alien and look nothing like their former role.

You can quote the Rules of Acquisition.

Someone makes you mad and you call them a “pahtk”.

Unfortunately, the fact that a person could even make a list like this might suggest some Trekkish tendencies. And just so you know, if you understand even three or four on the list, you might be in danger yourself.

Red Sock Generosity

2007-12-28T10:12:00.000-06:00

I just want to take a minute to brag on my school. When we opened five years ago, we turned the names of a few kids in for Christmas gifts from a local charity. We were glad to do that, but we began to think that maybe we could do something more. A colleague told me about her gift closet that she keeps at her house year round. Basically, as she is out and about doing normal holiday, birthday, or bargain shopping, she picks up extra items that are such great deals it’s silly not to buy them. She gets things that would be appropriate for colleagues, friends, and her kid’s friends. Then when a gift item is needed, she can just pull something from her gift closet. It ends up saving her time and money in the long run. I thought that was ingenious and began a gift closet of my own for students at school. Several people got on that band wagon, and we started adding to the gifts of our needy kids.

We knew that the kids we were helping only represented a portion of the needy kids in our school. So, the other counselor at my school streamlined our information gathering process in an effort to serve even more of our kids and their families. She also pitched the idea for a fund that would augment our gift closets. Because our mascot is the Gladiator, she called it the Gladiangel fund. We held $1 hat days, in order to get it going.

Needless to say, this project has grown a little every year. After the first couple of years, we began adding an outfit and a gift item for all of the kids whose names we continued to turn in to the local Christmas charity; this made a total of three gifts that they would receive. Additionally, the ones that came from us were only labeled with the child’s name. That way, it could be from Santa or the parents.

The number of families asking for help continued to grow, so we began asking teachers or teams of teachers to take on families. Their response was overwhelming. Not only did some of our teachers take families, they started asking for help from their Sunday school classes, small groups, and generous family members. (It is, of course, all kept anonymous - both the givers and receivers.)

This year we served more families than ever, over 35. That translates to approximately 120 kids, and probably 5-10 thousand dollars. During the week that parents picked up gifts, I was met with tears and called Jesus, Santa, an angel, and told “God bless you” countless times. One mother came with a tube connected to her body because she had a hysterectomy that went poorly last month; she was still waiting to be stitched up. Another mother came from the hospital on her way home from having a baby. Another mother came from work, not knowing which relatives were going to let them stay the night that day. Another family continues to heat their home with a home made fireplace in an oil drum with makeshift venting out a window.

Though we served more than ever this year, I know that it still only represents a fraction of the need. I was completely humbled to look into the eyes of that need and realize how extravagantly rich I am in comparison.

May God bless all of those families in need as well as all of those who showed red sock generosity to help them.

Long Time No Post

2007-12-18T21:04:00.000-06:00

It's been a while, so I'll just give a brief rundown of recent events.

Thanksgiving was great. My brother and nephews came in for several days. I made their favorites-mashed potatoes, homemade rolls, and monkey bread to name a few. We had special bonding time over a long lunch at Gatti's, with lots of tokens to spend, and then caught Fred Clause (which I highly recommend). We played Lights Off Golf, went to Jump 'n Jive, and the park. It was great fun. I just love getting to be the cool aunt.

The next week, I went to Austin with a good friend to attend the Assessment Conference. The conference was good, but the company was better. On one day, after our sessions were over, we headed to a fantastic mall and did a ton of Christmas shopping. I discovered the pinkest girliest store I've ever encountered called Libby Lu's. Perfect for all of my nieces.

The much anticipated 2008 District and Campus Testing Coordinator Manual arrived, and I've been busy reading, highlighting, and tabbing for an exciting new year of testing. OK, mostly I'm being sarcastic, but I have to admit there is the tiniest part of me that actually enjoys reading this stuff. Don't worry, I'm going to seek counseling.

I've been very busy being Santa's helper at my school; more to follow later on this one.

This past weekend, we went to Sudan for Click Christmas. My husband and I invited ourselves out a day early for a little extra visiting. We arrived hours before several inches of snow fell. It was beautiful. We had a nice visit with family and got some nice gifts. I especially enjoyed the impromptu piano recital from my niece and getting to do the honors of tucking her in for bed.

I am truly looking forward to a lazy Christmas break. For the first time since we've been married, we are neither going anywhere nor having anyone here for Christmas. We are not boycotting events or anything so dramatic, it just happened to work out this way. I'm envisioning movie watching, book reading, scrap booking, crocheting, sleeping in, drinking hot chocolate, and other such deliciously leisurely activities.

May all of your holidays be as sweet.

Purely By Chance

2007-11-28T21:22:00.000-06:00

Evidence speaks loud
Momma bear speaks louder
Watch the teeth.

Motivation and opportunity?
No matter.
Coincidence.

Consequences?
Not for Precious.
Victim of circumstance.

Apple...tree
Running free
Here's your sign.

Someone Who Made A Difference

2007-11-12T22:04:00.000-06:00

I spent three days last week at the Texas Counseling Association Conference in Corpus. Overall, the conference wasn't that great, but it was a nice getaway and relaxing time of sharing and collaborating with some fellow counselors from my district.

There was one really cool thing that happened though. On Thursday morning, I was standing in line for some much desired mocha cappuccino, when a woman walked up to check out the wait time. I glimpsed her out of the corner of my eye and felt a glimmer of recognition. When I turned back to look at her more closely, I saw that she was studying me too.

When I glanced at her name badge, it hit me. It was Mrs. Coon, my high school counselor. She recognized me at about the same time and even remembered my name (without the benefit of the goofy name badge I refused to wear.) I gave her a big hug and we had a nice little visit.

Before I let her walk away, I asked her if she knew that she was one of the reasons I wanted to be a school counselor. She tried to shrug off the compliment, but it's true. She was the counselor for my brother who is four years older than me and was there for him when my dad was so sick with leukemia. She used to let him come to her office to call him in the hospital.

When my dad died right before my sophomore year, she was my counselor. I didn't actually go talk to her much, but I always knew she was there. I think she came to the funeral. She always said hello to me in the hall; I think she was watching out for me the way I do some of my kids. She was never pushy, but always available, a gentle and reassuring presence.

She has been in education for forty years and still loves it. I'm glad I got to tell her what a difference she made to me.

What Happens In Vegas...

2007-11-10T13:21:00.000-06:00

Wow. We've been back over a week, and I'm just now getting around to telling you about it. Actually, I turned around and left town again on Wednesday to go to the Texas Counseling Association conference in Corpus Christi. More on that later.

I couldn't possibly tell you everything we did in Vegas, but it was probably the best vacation of my life. Truly. So here were a few of our favorite things...

Penn & Teller - smart, funny show...took pics with them and got autographs after the show
Spamalot - laughed so hard our sides ached
Zumanity - wow, not for the faint of heart...wouldn't recommend it for everyone, but we enjoyed it (Cirque show)
Blue Man Group - excellent, smart show, loved the audience participation...took pics with one blue guy afterward
Star Wars experience - cool
Quark's - good food and had photo op with a Farenge (no idea on spelling)
Hoover Dam Tour - great guide, imagined fighting the Deceptacons, worth every dam penny
ATV/Valley of Fire Tour - 4-wheelers in the sand...what more can I say
Ferrari dealership in Wynn - dreaming big
Race Car Driving School - dream come true
Day at the spa - wow, heavenly
Fremont Street Experience on Halloween- Vegas at a slower pace and where you can actually win once in a while
Auto Collection at the Imperial - are you seeing a theme here?
Jimmy Buffet's restaurant Margaritaville for my birthday
M&M store - who would have thought you could fill 4 floors with M&M paraphernalia?

As you can see, we did a ton of stuff and had an awesome time. You'll have to check out the scrapbook some day.

Blessings

2007-10-24T21:40:00.000-05:00

Recently, I've been extremely frustrated with several aspects of my job. So much so that when my husband asks me how my day is, my answer is often on the continuum of yuckiness rather than good and bad...i.e. was today more or less yucky than yesterday, rather than was it good or bad. I've decided that an attitude adjustment might be in order in the form of counting my blessings. So, here are a few (in no particular order):

As unworthy as I am, I've been saved by the blood of my loving Savior.
I have a caring mother who loves me just the way I am and ALWAYS has time to listen.
I have amazing siblings I admire (and maybe even idolize just a little.)
Without naming them all, let's just say I have wonderful family.
I have an amazing husband I love more each day...I could do a whole blog on all of the ways he blesses me.
I'm about to take an awesome vacation.
We can afford to take a vacation.
Even though we are currently without a church home, we have the freedom to choose one.
There are many people in my life I call "friend".
I am forgiven daily.
I have several extra special friends who are also such blessings I could make a whole list just for them.
I have a good job.
I respect most of the people I work with.
I have a home, car, and pretty much all the physical things I need.
I make a difference to kids daily.
I helped several kids just today.
I had the benefit of an outstanding father for 15 years, way more than many people, including some of my kids.
I have a great dog who meets me at the gate for a kiss when I get home every day.
I have some new tennis shoes that make me feel like I'm walking on clouds.
They are so good, I bought them in two colors with my husband's blessing!
Grace.
Nieces and nephews.
Good health.

The list could go forever. The point is I have way more to be thankful for than to gripe about. I'm going to try to count my blessings more often.

Getting Ready

2007-10-22T20:22:00.000-05:00

In celebration of our 10th wedding anniversary, which was in August, my husband and I are getting ready to go on a week long vacation to Vegas . Yes, that's right...an entire week. I'm taking an unprecedented six days off of work. At the beginning of the year, I felt some guilt about that. Now, well, I wouldn't want the place to burn down or anything while I'm gone, but...there will be no looking back.

But before we go, here are some things that have to get done:
1. Laundry
2. Ironing...yes I know it will get wrinkled in the suitcase.
3. Clean the house...my husband does not really understand my compulsion to clean like a
maniac before leaving, but he has come to accept it as normal.
4. Grocery shopping...light on the groceries, heavy on travel necessities.
5. Arrange a dog sitter.
6. Leave notes for the other counselor.
7. Pack.
8. Arrange transportation to the airport.
9. Finish travel notebook complete with itinerary, lodging reservation, maps, show/ticket
info., race car driving school reservation, spa reservation, etc. (My friends are a little
frightened by my travel notebook. I think they are just jealous.)
10. Call in "sick".

Needless to say, it's going to be a hectic week. But all will be worth it when we head to the airport. Even the wait in the airport will be vacation as I crack open a fresh new book to read. I can hardly wait!

Grocery Shopping

2007-10-15T19:26:00.000-05:00

As a general rule, I really dislike grocery shopping. Because it isn't just shopping. First, you have to plan your meals for the week, then check on ingredient availability, and finally make time to battle the crowds and do the actual shopping.

I have several techniques I use in order to make the experience as painless as possible, but it is still just one of those things that has to be done. For example, I usually write my grocery list in the order that I walk through the store. This helps to cut down on backtracking. Until recently, I always went to the store on Monday afternoons on my way home from school. Because once I get home, I make a beeline for the pajamas and have no plans of going back out.

The last several weeks have been off because my husband has offered to go with me on Sunday afternoon. Well, when the husband offers to help with grocery shopping, I for one do not turn him down. It just makes the whole experience more pleasant. He typically keeps me laughing for most of the trip with his silly antics.

On one of our recent shopping excursions, he pointed out that the path I take through Wal-Mart is not really the most efficient. After giving it some thought, I realized he was right. So today, as I planned my grocery list, I wrote it with the new path in mind. And lo, it was a complete success. I must have shaved ten minutes off my shopping time. OK, it may not have been that many, but it definitely felt faster.

Occasionally the monotony of shopping is broken by some weird random thing that happens. Today was one of those days. A very disturbing thing happened as I was loading my groceries into my car.

Another car pulls in to the parking place behind mine with music blasting. All I could hear of the lyrics was one word over and over, "Suicide, suicide, suicide." I think it was the chorus of the song.

Just as I was thinking about what a terrible statement the song is about our society, the unthinkable happened. A grown woman and a little girl, about 3 or 4 years old, get out of the car, and I hear the little girl singing, "suicide, suicide, suicide." The woman asks her, "Do you like that song sweety?" What? Did I hear her right?

What in the world is that lady thinking? It made me want to call CPS. Isn't that abuse or neglect or something? Maybe I missed something in the song. Maybe the words just before were, "Don't commit..."? Yeah, maybe that's it. Because surely no one would expose a little girl to that kind of disturbing, destructive, and distinctly adult lyric. Right?

Enthusiasm Socks

2007-10-11T21:37:00.002-05:00

Several have asked about “Enthusiasm Socks.” The following is a copy of my notes for a presentation I made at my school at the beginning of this school year. It is the true story of the enthusiasm socks and the challenge of wearing them. (And you are getting the school version because it was easier than rewriting the whole thing...pretend you're a teacher.)

My dad was a pretty amazing man. Growing up I thought he hung the moon. As an adult, I discovered that he wasn’t perfect after all, but rather than diminishing my appreciation of him, it caused me to respect him all the more. I’d like to share with you one of my “dad stories” that has become a particularly powerful legacy in my family.

Dad was a math teacher and a basketball coach for years. He loved his players and was concerned with their attitude and performance both on and off the court. Of course he preached “Attitude is everything!” at home too. I remember comments like, “If you’ve got a job to do, do it right the first time,” and during his battle with Leukemia his motto was “PMA – Positive Mental Attitude.”

One year, in an effort to promote the right attitude with his basketball players, he started wearing these bright, obnoxious red socks on game days. He called them his “enthusiasm socks”. It didn’t matter what else he might be wearing or whether or not they matched. On game days, he wore his red enthusiasm socks.

The idea caught on, and soon his players were dressing up and wearing bright red enthusiasm socks on game days too. It was a small way to get pumped up for the big games and a reminder to approach the game with enthusiasm, hard work, and a great attitude. And it worked.

It was such a small thing to do, but it obviously made an impression on his players. One group of his girl’s varsity players even presented him with a teddy bear complete with enthusiasm socks at the end of the school year.

When my dad lost his battle with cancer, I was fifteen. My mom wanted my three brothers and I to have something of Dad’s that had special meaning to each of us, and the two things I really, really wanted were his teddy bear and enthusiasm socks.
But that is not the end of the enthusiasm sock story.

One of the first things I had to work out in my mind after Dad died was who would walk me down the aisle when I got married. The week after he died that was really on my mind. I might have only been fifteen, but it was important for me to get that worked out. Actually, I had always wanted my dad to do two important things, baptize me and marry me. He did baptize me, but he wasn’t going to be able to marry me or even walk me down the aisle. So, I had to have a plan.

Because I had two older brothers whom I idolized, it was a pretty difficult decision. But sometime during that week I decided that the solution was to have them both walk with me, one on either side. I even decided that when the preacher asked who would be giving the bride away, my oldest brother should say, “her mother and we do.”

On the day of my wedding, as planned, many years earlier, my two older brothers waited with me in the back of the church. While the bridesmaids were walking in, my brothers pulled me to the side for a little last second chat. They began to tell me how proud of me they were and how happy they were for Newton and me. They new it was an extremely special day for me and they were very enthusiastic to be a part of it. In fact, they said, they were so enthusiastic about it that they couldn’t keep it inside and just had to show it in some way. At that point, they each lifted their tuxedo pants leg and revealed their bright, obnoxious red enthusiasm socks. It was pretty precious.

Last year, on Wednesday, April 18, I got an email from my second oldest brother, Richard. Some of you may not recognize the significance of that date, but it was a pretty big day for me. It was the biggest day of testing on our campus. We were giving the 6th grade reading test, 5th grade reading retest, and all of SDAA reading. It also happened to be the day that we had a minor, but very frustrating, incident. Needless to say, it was not a particularly good day, nor one that I was terribly enthusiastic about.

This is what my brother had written:

I have been working a lot of hours over the last couple of weeks. I worked last night until midnight, didn’t get to sleep until after 1am, and then was called this morning for a production support issue @ 6:30.

I got up, and got ready.

As I was considering what socks to where, I pulled a particular sock out of my drawer. It had been separated from its match, so I began a search for its mate.

I got to thinking, I don’t remember how many times I have worn this pair of socks…maybe only a handful. I began to think about the inspiration for the socks, and thought, in spite of everything going on at work, I was going to wear them, and have a great day!

If you don’t know by now, I will tell you. I chose a red pair of socks today.

Have a great, enthusiastic day!

Love you all,
Richard

The weight of his words hit me like a ton of bricks, for several reasons. One, I was absolutely blown away by the timing of his letter. He doesn’t write very often, and for it to come on that day of all days, just when I really needed it the most, was a pretty awesome work of God in my opinion.

But even more than that, I think it was the first time I fully understood the lesson of the enthusiasm socks. It wasn’t just about wearing some goofy socks to get ready for a big game or day. It was about making a choice. Every time Dad put those ridiculous socks on, he was choosing to approach his day with enthusiasm and with joy. Richard got it.

We face a lot of challenges this year. We’ve lost important positions, we have lots of new people, all of our kids will take TAKS, and that doesn’t even cover all of the things that may be going on in your life outside of here. Over the course of this next year, we are going to have a lot of difficult days. In Max Lucado’s book titled Every Day Deserves A Chance, he talks about those days.

He says, “There are days when traffic snarls, airports close, friends forget, and spouses complain. Days full of deadlines, long lines, receding hairlines, luggage-losing airlines, nauseating pickup lines, wrinkle lines, unemployment lines, and those ever-elusive bottom lines. And let’s not forget divorce days, final exam days, surgery days, tax days, and days when the cemetery dirt is still fresh.” But “this is the day the Lord has made; we will rejoice and be glad in it.”

This day. Not just wedding days, super-sale Saturdays, vacation days, or first days of hunting season. But, back to school days, observation days, staff development days, he’s coming back from DAEP days, and even TAKS days.

Every day, we have the opportunity to decide on our attitude. Your administrative team has decided that we are going to commit to approaching all of our days with enthusiasm. And on those particularly daunting days, we are going to wear our enthusiasm socks as a symbol of our attitude choice. We may not all wear our enthusiasm socks on the same days because each day is different to each person. But on days when we need a little extra help getting motivated and being joyful we are going to wear our enthusiasm socks. And I personally have taken Dad’s socks out of the drawer in order to continue his legacy of enthusiasm.

So that’s what I said. Then I gave them all some obnoxiously red socks. And I can’t tell you how happy it makes me to see them wearing them at school. I think the world would be a much better place if we all wore enthusiasm like socks. I’m going to give it a shot.

A Bright Spot

2007-10-10T20:48:00.000-05:00

Today was just one of those days. First of all, as my school's testing coordinater, I had to coordinate (thus the title) our field testing for the newest version of state testing torture. And since it is a new test, I decided that I should be one of the test administrators so that I would understand better how this one will work and therefore be able to train future test administrators more knowledgably. Since only two small groups needed to take the test, there were only two test administrators. Simple. Right?

So we gather the kids, give them the talk about how they "get" to help the state decide if this is a good test or not, and then move on to our testing rooms where we try to further persuade them that they should do their best even though it doesn't count for anything. Well, I'm not allowed to discuss anything about the test, unless I want to lose my license and therefore my livelihood, I can only say that it was a disturbing experience on many levels. (And I feel sure that my constant hacking and coughing was not a disruption to the environment.)

Thirty minutes into the test, my principal walks in with a stack of tests and a terrified look on his face. (In case big brother is reading, he has been duly trained with oath signed, so it was ok for him to come in.) He informs me that the other test administrator has had to ride in an ambulance to the hospital with one of our other students (not one of the testers). Good grief. Testing coordinator's nightmare come true. I'm happy to report that I was able to get that situation resolved and get my kids tested and get ready for tomorrow's test, but wow. Insanity.

As I'm heading out of the building (with all tests locked up and secure), I decide that those twenty-seven people who told me that I should go to the doctor might be on to something. So I head to the after hours clinic...you know, the one where you wait for five hours with a roomful of hacking, coughing, snorting, spewing, sick people. I sign in and find a place to sit that is near a kleenex box and facing the television.

And a miracle happens. In less than thirty minutes, I'm diagnosed, paying my $20 co-pay (not some trumped up after hours price), and heading out the door with perscription in hand. But wait...there's more...I drop my perscription off and have it filled and paid for in only two minutes, sixteen seconds. Well, that may be exagerated a little, but really...it was super fast. In less than ninety minutes from when I left work, I was doctored, dosed, and drowsing in my recliner.

And some people say miracles have ceased.

The Cough

2007-10-09T22:01:00.000-05:00

Ahem.

Sometimes surprising
Out of the clear blue
An explosive bark

Sometimes sneaky
First a tickle
Then WHAM

Sometimes soggy
Chest crackling
An expectorant hack

Sometimes savage
Head throbbing
Rib cracking croup

Always aggravating
Never neat.

Peer Pressure

2007-10-07T21:45:00.000-05:00

What can I say? I've given in to peer/cousin pressure and joined the bloggers. I must admit though that I have some conflicting thoughts about blogging that have made me hesitate to jump in the blogging pool.

First, I think that the very nature of blogging suggests some level of arrogance on the blogger's part. Why? Well, because bloggers must think that they are smart enough or clever enough or funny enough or something that others would want to read what they have to say. I know some people whose emails are really more like blog postings, and I wonder if they really think I care about all of the things they shared.

It's not that I don't like email, but come on, sometimes I just don't need that information.

On the other hand, I thoroughly enjoy reading the cousin blogs as the unique qualities of their personalities that I enjoy in person come through in their day to day musings. So, if there is some level of arrogance there, it's justified because people like me are reading them...and enjoying them.

Hmmm...maybe it's just that I don't want to admit my own level of arrogance. And I know it's there, because frankly, I know I have worthwhile thoughts to share. It's assuming that the rest of the world might want to know them that is arrogant I guess. But I suppose, as Mitch pointed out, if the reader gets bored or annoyed or grossed out or whatever, he/she can just close the browser and move on.

Oh well, after pondering the possibility of the blog for several weeks, I decided to go ahead and take the plunge, embrace my own arrogance, and start writing.