idontbelieveingrammar

......well pretend like it is. Mainly because I am posting this about 3 days too late. My blogging friend Margie wrote it and it is too perfect to wait until next year. Definition of Advent: Decorations Tree Lights on the house Stocking stuffers Pictures with Santa Cookies Rudolph and Frosty Teachers’ gifts Updated family picture mailed to friends and family by mid-December Last-minute dashes to store Gift-wrapping frenzy Menu lists We are immersed in a culture that starts “doing” Christmas months before the event itself. In September, bright banners waved along busy streets to announce this year’s holiday market opened October 2. The girls saw decorated trees when we passed them on our way to buy this year’s Halloween costumes, and the Jack-O-Lanterns sat one aisle away from holiday wrapping paper that was promoted by a display of gifts topped with large, oversized bows. Our pastor suggested that the synonym for Christmas is distraction. In Preparing for Jesus, Walter Wangerin, Jr. w...

The presents are all opened. Only one slice of pie is left. Now what? Why do the days after Christmas always feel like a let down. Or a relief. Like ok, Christmas done. Let's make our exchanges and go back to our regularly scheduled lives. If this was a book, that was the climax. Then all the loose ends get tied up and we all live happily ever after, or just go back to work. The build up is over. All we can do is take the tree down and grade papers. Or is there? I think this is why we like to make new year's resolutions right afterwards. Because it doesn't feel right to just keep going as normal. Christ was born. Our lives should change. And somehow all those packages and gift cards don't seem to do it for us. So instead we promise to be better, or thinner, or whatever. Even if it is only for a few days. or weeks. And then we give up, and go back to our normal lives. until we have something else to look forward to. but what if we didn't? what if you didn't make ...

I used to keep a journal, before I started this whole blogging thing. What was different about my journal was that it wasn’t supposed to be read. But I think maybe I hoped someone would read it anyways. I wrote in fear And also with a little bit of hope.. That someone. Anyone. Would read it. And that I would be known. Really known. And I hoped that that someone. Anyone would want to keep reading. And still want to know me more. And still want to be my friend afterwards. And they would learn all the things about me that I was afraid to say. Outloud. Because saying something outloud makes it real. And this blog isn’t my journal. But it is still pretty outloud. And personal. And I go places that I have a hard time going in person. And sometimes someone will mention reading it. And I suddenly feel naked. Like they just read my journal without my permission. Even though I post it on the internet for the whole wide world to read. Known. and vulnerable and exposed. But being known means you ...

No, I didn't write this.......but the author is unknown. If I decorate my house perfectly with plaid bows, strands of twinkling lights and shiny tinsel but do not show love to my family, I'm just another decorator. If I slave away in the kitchen, baking dozens of Christmas cookies, preparing gourmet meals and arranging a beautifully adorned table at mealtime, but do not show love to my family, I'm just another cook. If I work at the soup kitchen, carol in the nursing home and give all that I have to charity, but do not show love to my family, it profits me nothing. If I trim the spruce with shimmering angels and crocheted snowflakes, attend a myriad of holiday parties and sing in the choir's cantata but do not focus on Christ, I have missed the point. Love stops the cooking to hug the child. Love sets aside the decorating to kiss the husband. Love is kind, though harried and tired. Love doesn't envy another's home that has coordinated Christmas china and table l...

.....LESS .....and more intentionally. of course I'm talking Advent Consipiracy here. I posted that video last year (if you don't know what I am talking about you can read about it here ). but now here is one from trade as one:

This is a guest post from my friend Sarah. You kind find more of her witty stuff here : http://alittlewhineandcheese.wordpress.com/ Though you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy. I Peter 1:8 (NIV) Every Christmas I try not to miss it, to miss Him. I make it my goal to complete all my myriad tasks in an organized and timely fashion, so when the time comes, I’m serene, peaceful, and ready. I hurry and scurry and plan and prepare, so that when The Moment I’ve set to enjoy Jesus comes, I don’t overlook it. The truth is I usually still manage to miss it. Every year I fall further behind. More unexpected guests show up, or my Christmas banana bread implodes, and I’ve got to make another batch. When I finally look up from the holiday wreckage, I discover that it’s time to pack up the ornaments, and I haven’t met with Jesus at all. I can blame my busy schedule, my chronic procrastinat...

Phillipians 4:4 4Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! 5Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. 6Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. 7And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. The small house was filled with people. As usual, we were a bit rowdy and loud, even on this grim occasion. Owen ran circles around the living room. Tess scowled at anyone who tried to hold her. Too many people were in the kitchen and I was on at least my second cup of coffee. But the little quiet old man in the room managed to get our attendtion because he wanted to say a blessing. And we were silent. And he thanked God for his wife of 66 years. He thanked us for being there. He thanked God for the food that had been prepared. Even if we the cinnamon rolls were a little burnt. His voice was barely over a whisper but ...

know it is Sunday, and we are already on to week 2 of Advent (Peace), but I just read this......and have to post it here. It is written by my friend Beth, that many of you read about here . I have been really pondering on these words ( hope, peace, joy and love)….and struggling to try and tell you what they mean and how to be them. To really offer up hope and peace and joy…and I have been coming up a little short. These little nouns and how to be them are more than I can wrap my words around. But hope. I thought of Beth. She has been down an ugly path this last year. And she is so so sad. But she is also hopeful. I like that she doesn’t pretend and trade one out for the other. Her grief is real and visible on her face even these many months later when the condolences have stopped coming. But she also smiles and laughs and keeps living. That is some ridiculous hope. And here is what she had to say…….. You can hope for silly things. Like, I hope Texas Tech wins the Big XII. And, you can ...

Just a few years ago I gave birth to a son. I took a packed bag, received an epidural, made a mix cd, and I think the hospital even had cable…..although I never thought to turn it on. I had multiple doctors, nurses, pillows and morphine ( lots of morphine). All my friends and family showed up. A few friends even waited all night (literally!) behind closed doors for that first cry. Afterwards I received flowers, presents, 19 staples, ice chips and of course a beautiful little boy swaddled tightly in his hospital blanket. Mary, was just a scared teenager out back in the barn. No epidural or even clean towels. I love these humble beginnings. This is the Christ child. God could have orchestrated his appearance on Earth anyway He wanted. He could have been beamed down like an episode of Star Trek. He could have immediately sat on a throne. Or He could have at least reserved a room for him in the inn. Instead he shows up where we least expect him. Out back in the manger. Small and helpless w...

I haven’t put up my tree yet. I haven’t even gotten it down from the attic. I’m not opposed to get all Christmas-y. I’m just not to the tree stage yet. I like to do it one step at a time. Yesterday we made a list of 25 or so things. One for each day. Yesterday we made an advent wreath. Well sortof. It isn’t really a wreath ( just a big candle holder), and I don’t even have the right colors. (Micheals and Target were all out of purple……..and good luck finding tapers!) But in the middle of our kitchen table is a glass dish with three chubby pink candles and a one green one surrounding a big white candle that Owen likes to call the Jesus candle. Owen couldn’t wait to light the first candle ( of course, he couldn’t because he is a little pyro). ….but he knows that it represents hope. …..and he knows that next week he will get to light another. And eventually…..we will get to that big special white one in the middle. Not everyday, but often enough I’ll be posting about Advent. A few years a...

Mansfield has one homeless man that I see on a semi-regular basis. He doesn't look like he should be homeless. He looks more like someone I went to highschool with. Who could really use a shower. This morning I saw on my way home from getting coffee, and pulled over like I occasionally do. I didn't have any cash. So I went next door and got some breakfast instead. Two sausage egg and cheese bisquits. And I pulled them out. And he remembered me. And we sat on the stoop and ate our breakfasts together. And introduced himself as Andrew. Which is probably not his real name. Because later he told me a different one. And we jumped right into our stories. Before getting on to me about what is "safe".... I don't really think we are called to safe. But nonetheless I didn't give him my last name or social security # or address or anything crazy like that. (well one thing crazy, and maybe we will talk about that later). I didn't ask. But he told me bits about how he ...

The old “when God closes a door he opens a window”. Open windows I can handle. But what about when God opens the door, lets you get just a peak at what’s on the other side and then slams it in your face. That is what has left me a bit reeling this morning. Because I feel like God is so ridiculously good to me. But. I am not always so good to him. I am searching for what it is I am supposed to do. How I am supposed to serve. And just when I go out on a limb and am obedient. Which is scary. But feels so good. Because for a rare moment you are doing exactly what it is that you are supposed to do. The stars align and you know it isn’t the stars and then, The door slams. Right on your nose. With no windows in sight. And it hurts so much more than it should. And there is always the question…. Is God closing this door? Am I supposed to start looking for my windows. Checking my motives. Should I placate myself with holding up my end of the bargain. Finding whatever lesson it is that I am suppo...

Lately I haven't really wanted to go to Sunday School. It has been .... kind of off. The study we are in hasn't been drawing out real conversation. We mostly make jokes about something else. Watch the clock tick. And decide on where to eat afterwards. I had even been wondering if this room at 11:00 o'clock was still the one for me. But then there was this Sunday. The food was lame store bought muffins ( I can say that b/c I brought them). There were many empty seats. The study was still a little stale. But right before praise and concern we did something different. In honor of Thanksgiving we went around the circle and were each asked to share one thing that we were thankful for. Sounds so second grade right? Wrong. We went around and people spilled their hearts. No one just said, " I'm thankful for my family". Instead they praised their wife sitting beside them until they weren't the only ones choked up. No one mentioned a new iphone ( not even me), but ...

so haven't blogged in 10 or so days, (which is a while for me)......... I have 10 straight days off ( counting yesterday that I wasn't supposed to be off but stayed home with sick kids)....and I figured I'd catch up on my blogging. Only really I don't have much to say. And that is a problem. I figured I'd post anyways. But I think there is a message here anyways. Something about how we need a story. We need things to write about. Which is probably going to take me getting off the couch.....

All these serious posts lately….and I’m not really a serious girl. So, let me lighten the mood. One word: golf. You see I am not really a detail kind of girl. More often than not my socks don’t match. My posts (and all other written correspondences) are filled with typos and misspellings. And I see the speed limit as more of a suggestion to me than an actual value that I think I am supposed to stay under… But golf is kind of a detail sport. I think the whole point is accuracy. Not, just to hit the ball as hard as you can. Who knew? In college I used to work at PuttPutt and figured this made me a professional golfer of sorts. I can putt through a freakin windmill, surely I can land a ball on the green. (turns out that is faulty logic). So I bought clubs and played with Shaun a few times. I thought years ago ( before kids), that if I learned to play it would be something we could do together. Until he tried to actually “instruct” me on how to swing. Teachers are the worst students. Esp...

The grand finale. Well, I was hoping for one but I’m not so sure this is it. This post is a little late because I couldn’t decide what to do for this week….. I kept waiting…. I was hoping for a big fat check to land in my mailbox. So that I could be faithful and give away half. And of course go skiing with the rest. But no big fat check came. Turns out I have to give away what I already have. Because that was what it was really all about any ways. I also toyed with the idea of giving away half of what is in my savings account, or checking account, or something else big and substantial and impressive. But that isn’t where I have ended up. Instead I’m not giving away much. But I’m hoping you will. In front of me is a short stack of 10$ bills. All crisp and new and fresh and straight from the ATM. But these bills are marked. In Sharpie across the front is this verse: “For everything comes from him and exists by his power and is intended for his glory.” Romans 11:36a Because all t...

( Week5 ) Let me be up front that I am a cheater. This should be obvious to that noticed that I didn’t post anything yesterday. A girl using her time wisely shouldn’t miss her weekly Sunday post. …..but I had an exceptionally busy weekend. And I am a complete cheater. I checked my facebook and google reader almost everyday. Even on my so called days off. But maybe I spend a few minutes rather than the better part of an hour there. I was amazed at how hard it was to not come home and plop myself down in front of the computer. My kids watched less cartoons. I graded more papers. We danced in the living room. I cooked dinner. Real dinner, vegetable included. Overall. I got more stuff done. And my son didn’t have to say, “Mommy, I’m talking to you! Pay attention!” And yes, I was available to help a few people out. I didn’t do anything spectacular. I delivered a meal and I babysat for someone on Owen’s soccer team. Neither of which I wanted to do. Or were for a good friend that I was happy ...

When I was in college I tried snow boarding. Us girls thought the snowboarding pants and boots were much cuter than the ski ones. My snowboarding experience only made it halfway up the bunny hill. I fell and my knee made a funny noise and felt all loose inside. I tore my MCL before ever even getting on a lift. So much for those cute boots. I opted out of surgery and only had to wear a big bulky expensive brace for a few months. Ok, I think I was actually supposed to wear it for a few months which I translated into a few weeks. But despite not following the doctors orders it healed up ok. Mostly. When it gets cold or I run too much or I play a particuarly aggresive soccer game...it creaks and cracks and hurts. Then I'll favor the other leg for a while until it doesn't hurt anymore. Today, while driving in my car to meet a friend... I remembered something. which made me remember something else. which made me remember something else. and then I hit a raw spot. not eddie murphy raw...

So I am wishing that I had only made this a 4 week experiment. I could probably. I mean, how many people actually read this blog anyways. But…I’d hate to disappoint the eight of you. So I have 2 more weeks to go. And this week, Inspired by my favorite day of the year, I am giving up something precious to me. Something priceless. Something that I am incredibly wasteful with. Something that last night at 12:01 I magically received a little bit extra of ….well at least until next Spring when it will be taken back. My time. Because it isn’t always about stuff. Sometimes it is just about being available. Literally giving up half my time would be almost impossible Because I still have to you know…work and sleep… And that takes up over half my time as it is. So there will have to be rules. For this week, I will at least try not to waste half my time. On Monday, Wednesday and Friday (ok, for you math whizzes out there…I realize that 3 days out of 7 isn’t officially half, I am not counting Sund...

This is a repost from the same time last year... Owen just scooted out the door for the day dressed as spiderman. His school is having a halloween party......but I am not sure he was supposed to show up ALL day in costume. I also considered the fact that they are serving lasagna for lunch, and the outfit is a one-piecer making "potty time" a nightmare. I thought maybe just taking his costume to put on at party time would be a better idea. However, I could not convince my child of this.Before leaving he asked me a question that has stuck with me ( well maybe because he asked it about a dozen times in a span of 5 minutes). "Who are you going to be today mommy?" First I tried responding with something easy......"Owen's mommy". Apparently that was not exciting enough.Then I tried to appeal to the superhero in him with "super woman". Apparently they don't show that cartoon anymore so there is no such thing if you are 3. I started to get desper...

Here are a few shots my friend Rhonda got last week at the pumpkin patch... check out more of her stuff at snapshotsonlocation.com

last night around 10:40 p.m. Owen sticks an elbow in my ribs and says, "is that the piano fairy?" I had just fallen asleep. but, I rubbed my eye and looked up to see a strange man in my bedroom. older, balding, wearing a jumpsuit and a little creepy looking. "yes, Owen, that is the piano fairy". He went scrambling out of bed to watch and this stranger and Shaun rolled a piano into our bedroom. My old piano. The one I learned to play chopsticks on. and some song about a little Indian. and the one your only use your knuckles to play. and a few real recital worthy songs as well. and practiced for hours. or at least it felt like hours. The one my brother and sister played. And the one my mother could play beautifully. Owen plopped down on the bed while they unloaded it from the dolley. His eyes were big and wide and he asked, "We're getting a real live piano?" I giggled and hoped he didn't think this was like getting a puppy. "Yes, Owen a real liv...

a few of my favorite things: cheese fries from snuffers homemade cobbler chips and salsa almost anywhere, but especially uncle julios and chueys medium wet wings from wings n more fuzzy's fish tacos my mom's spaghetti sauce warm sourdough bread red wine greek salad from pappadeaux sexy roll from piranha easy cheese and a box of trisquits garlic mashed potatoes. a chilli cheese dog from the coney a good ceaser salad warm garlicy hummus from mellow mushroom hashbrown casserole from the cracker barrel fries from wing stop fresh baked cinnamon rolls ..........and welll i could go on and on. I like good food. I am spoiled like that. And wear the pant size to prove it. Both my parents are amazing cooks and they don't mind dropping big bucks for a really good meal. Like the lobsters we shared last time they were in town! Did reading all that make you hungry? Did you start picturing what you were going to have for dinner? Did your mouth start to salvate and your stomach start to gr...

(If you haven't been following read the 2 previous posts first)... Today Owen got his first library card….and was really proud of it. Really proud of it. He carried it around in his pocket all day. He even fished it out at “children’s time” at church……..interrupting the entire lesson to show off his magical plastic card. But library cards are pretty powerful, I mean you can just walk in, flash that puppy…and walk out with an armload of books. Which are 100% free if you can remember to return them on time and keep your kids from coloring in them ( both of which I struggle with). Turns out I have built my own little library. Minus the Dewey decimal system. I have always wanted a house filled with books. And I have it. There are too many books to count, so I won’t even try. There are at least 9 shelves of books. Not counting the random piles of coffee tables, kitchen tables and bathroom counters. Not counting the bookshelves in Owen in Tess’s rooms. Not counting the borrowed books sta...

So if you are just tuning in, last week I decided to give away HALF of one of my possessions each week. (Read the last post if you want to get filled in). The popular question this week was, “So what are you giving away this week?” Which made me panic a little. I meant my post last week. But, how often do you mean something and not really ever follow through. People asking meant, I had to follow through. So I went back to my closet. Bottoms. Jeans, khakis, skirts, pajama bottoms, work out pants, etc… 16 pairs of pajama pants ( I heart pajama pants and would wear these all the time if it were just slightly more socially acceptable). 8 pairs of workout/sweat type pants 18 pairs of jeans 16 pairs of brown/khaki pants 10 pairs of plain black pants 6 other ( plaid, print, etc.) 12 skirts And I didn’t even look in the hamper. I filled 4 trashbags completely full with pants to donate! Going through all the piles gave me plenty of material to write about. Like for example that I found 16 pairs...

16Another day, a man stopped Jesus and asked, "Teacher, what good thing must I do to get eternal life?" 17Jesus said, "Why do you question me about what's good? God is the One who is good. If you want to enter the life of God, just do what he tells you." 18-19The man asked, "What in particular?" Jesus said, "Don't murder, don't commit adultery, don't steal, don't lie, honor your father and mother, and love your neighbor as you do yourself." Don’t murder. Check. Don’t commit adultery. Check. Don’t steal. Check. Well unless you count making personal copies at work, or snagging Shaun’s last pair of clean socks… Don’t lie. Uhm…..Not bold face ones at least. Telling the telemarketer that I’m not home, surely that doesn’t count. Honor your father and mother. Much easier now that I don’t live at home. Love your neighbor as you do yourself. Sure, as long as I can pick which neighbor. The friendly one who bakes bread and lends me...

Recently I couldn't wait to see a friend. Even though I knew it was going to be really awkward. She just suffered a great loss and I knew we weren't going to be able to just hug and giggle about old times. There might be long pauses. Or some staring at our feet. Or laughing and then feeling guilty that maybe things shouldn't be this normal. This summer I hung out with some old friends. Some were easy. And it seemed that we slipped into conversations like comfortable old jeans. Others were strained, and we weren't always sure what to say. Eventually we caught ourselves laughing almost as easily as we used to, but not after a few conversational dead ends and at least one failed joke. I hope to see both next time I am around. Bring on the awkward pauses, if it means I get to hug an old friend. Even if it means we don't have much in common anymore. I bet if we talk long enough we will find something. I also have some friends that have made some decisions or done so...

On the way home from school Owen says, "I love you, mommy" Sweet yes, but he also had alterior motives...he was trying to butter me up for a stick of gum. So I responed, " How much?" "More than........." (and he paused dramaticallyI expected him to fill in that blank with something he partiucuarly enjoys like cartoons, or cheetos, or the color red). He continued, "More than 12." 12 huh. Well, I guess it could be worse. He could have said 4.

Ok, disclaimer. Not of fan of 90% of “Christian fiction” (imagine that I just made those quotations in the air with my hands” and possibly even a gagging sound). It is often too sweet and sappy and unrealistic. But maybe, just maybe a mom of three with a nose ring can do it right. Within less than a dozen pages I was hooked. Instead of going to bed at a respectable hour, or doing the dishes or grading papers……I found my self in the middle of Defiance, TX. Mourning with Emory of the loss of her daughter Daisy. Hoping with Hixon that he will manage to win Emory’s heart. Wishing for Emory to finally come around. Praying that Jed would survive under all the weight of his self-imposed guilt. Wondering if Ousie would stand up to or be crumpled by the hand of her husband. And most of all wanting to find out who the killer is. And that is just the first few chapters. In other words, A Slow Burn, is anything but a slow read. So, let the dishes pile up. Let some one else put away the laundry and...

The doctor pulled and tugged and cussed. Asked for more clamps and rags and billed us for extra time. Thankfully I couldn't see much beyond the blue sheet. It felt like someone was sitting on my chest. And really really cold. The anesthesiologist tried to distract me, and suddenly there was a flurry. A slippery slimy 8 pound 2 ounce little Tess. And we waited. For the nurse to suction her mouth, and for her to scream. The relief of that sweet scream. And she has been screaming ever since. Before she got here I thought I had this parenting thing figured out. Owen was easy. Laid back. Active, but usually eager to please. I thought it was because I was good at it. Apparently it was just beginners luck. Tess is stubborn and sassy. She takes short naps and wakes up at the smallest of noises. She is picky and particular about what she is wearing, who is holding her, what she eats and even the room temperature. But she can throw her head back and giggle. A giggle so big that it consumes ...

Yesterday Owen had his first official soccer game. We have had practices and a soccer tots class, but this was the first REAL game. With jerseys and refs and long socks that go up to his thigh. So Saturday morning I packed up snacks and drinks and the camera and headed over to the U5 fields. The ones that are smaller than my living room. After circling a parking lot full of minivans and suburbans for 20 minutes, I finally found a space and unloaded Tess. I pushed Tess's stroller at top speed to the assigned field ( where O's game was already underway). As I rolled passed some of the bigger kids fields, I started thinking this was the first of many many mornings I would here. I usually try to shrug the soccer mom image, but I actually like the soccer part. I soaked in the smell of the freshly cut grass, the chalk lines, sunshine, whistles and the orange slices. I wondered how many goals my sweet little boy would score today. I finally approached O's field ( and yes, I mi...

        So I got the pants beat off me in the first round by a 4 year old. damn bumpers.

I did something completely terrifying this weekend. No, I did not ride the Titan or sky dive or spend the night in a haunted house. Instead, I went to a conference. At a church. With some really nice people. But, here is the catch. It was a writing conference. Still don’t see what was terrifying about this. Well, some of these people were "real" writers. They have written actual books, and articles and have their own websites. Even the aspiring ones seemed to be carting around a manuscript or a service. Me, well. I blog. Along with everyone and their grandma. And after attending this conference, trust me everyone’s grandma has a blog. I want to write. But I’m not sure what exactly. This kind of stuff. But how do I describe that when you go around the dinner table with all these people who actually belong here, and someone finally asks me the dreaded question. The one that I have been praying no one will actually ask me. The one that makes my knees knock a little bit and my ...

Today I forgot my lunch, so I ran a quick errand to get a sandwich. On my way out of the Which Which parking lot, I saw a man across the street that I thought might be homeless. Mansfield doesn't have too many of these people purusing the streets with signs or shopping carts so I took notice. He pushed a shopping cart and seemed to be picking up trashn in a gas station parking lot. I watched him carefully because I was trying to decide if he was homeless or just cleaning the parking lot. I gave away my last 5 bucks last night, but thought maybe I could give him half my sandwich. Then I felt guilty about only wanting to give him half. I decided that maybe I should give him the whole thing. I did have a granola bar stashed away in the store room back at school. But the more I watched him, the more I thought he was possibly an employee of that gas station. His cart seemed to be outfitted with all kinds of containers and cleaners -- and I did not see any "belongings". A...

Tonight I went fishing. Really the plan was just to take lots of pictures, but I got distracted. The fish kept biting. I could hardly drop my pole in before I was reeling in another one. Shaun, his dad and Owen were all packing up the land cruiser, and I was still reeling them in, in the dark. Not sure what it was. My hands were dirty and slimy. My tennis shoes were covered with sticker burrs. My pants were stained and smelled strongly of fish. But it was beautiful. And not just the sun setting over the creek. But the dirt on my son’s face. The wiggle of a worm. And the wildflowers blooming on the bank. This morning I sat in a church (not my normal one!) And felt nothing. The service was cold and boring. The music ( sang to a tape of backup music) was lifeless. And the preaching, well I have already forgotten what it was about. But there at the creek. God spoke. Not in words so much, As in grasshoppers And crickets And fish breaking the water.

I have a friend Beth who has my favorite laugh of all times. It is the best laugh you have ever heard she is very generous with it. She is just one of those bright happy people that you just want to be around. Because well, when she is you find yourself smiling and laughing more too. In one word she is joyful. But a few days ago, my sweet Beth had a son. He was a beautiful 4 lbs 3 ounces and looked a lot like his older sister. He was stillborn. I can't read or type those words without feeling like I am being hit in the stomach. She wrote about it very breifly on her facebook page and I am absoultely humbled by the amazing grace that she displayed. I know that our God is good. But it is so hard to remember in this moment. and it almost seems wrong to even type it. People keep expressing sympathy for her loss. And loss is such a huge understatement when it comes to a child. She was robbed. But my friend Beth still manages to see that she is blessed and will continue to be blessed. B...

Tess has a urinary tract infection and has been crabby and clingy for the last few days (with good reason). So, last night as I attempted to put her to bed.....I didn't quite have the heart (or the energy) to let her cry it out. Reluctantly, (after a few unsuccessful tries in her own crib), I tucked her in between me and Shaun and went to sleep. I actually intended to put her back in her own bed after she was sleeping, but that would require getting out of my snuggly bed. 5:30 am: Owen comes creeped in and attempted to stake out a claim on my mattress. 5:30 may be wake up time during the week, but this was Sunday....and we did not have anywhere to be for awhile. I was desperate for a few more hours of sleep and told him he could stay at the foot of the bed. A few minutes later, after jockeying for position and covers, the dog leaped up on to the bad to claim her acerage as well. In frustration, I picked up and headed to the couch. I do like my babies in the bed with me. Esp...

No, I did not sleep funny. My neck actually feels fine ( not that I'd pass up a massage if offered but).. I am referring to stiff necked in the biblical sense. (ex32:9-10 acts7:51) Stiff necked is an odd adjective of choice. It manages to show up at least a half dozen times in the bible, both old and new testement. When I have read it in the past I have always used my context clues and assumed it meant something like proud or stubborn. Googling this, told me that I was mostly right. It usually used in reference to the obstinate Isrealites who keep going back to their idols. Their stiff necks keep refusing to bend to God's will. But why stiff necks? What about stiff backs, or shoulders or any other body part? Ever have a crick in your neck? It makes it almost impossible to look around. You are stuck only looking in one direction. To some of the world this sounds like a good thing. Driven and focused. But only looking forward has it's drawbacks. There is no looking up. Th...

Today was convacation, which is esentially a big teacher pep rally. The district paid big money for a big name speaker ( Jon Gorden - The Energy Bus). And he was fine. Well dressed, had lots of funny stories, name dropped, tossed in plenty of quotes, clever andecdotes and cliches to keep us entertained and possibly inspired. But... His message fell a little flat with me. He talked a lot about "staying positive, good energy, work hard, don't ever give up" type stuff. Emphasis on the positive energy talk. And truth be told, we teachers need it. Staff developments tend to lead to an abundance of texting, yawning and grumbling amungst the staff. There is lots and lots of complaining. Negativity is draining and exhausting, but.......I'm not so sure that "staying positive" is the easy catch all solution my speaker would like to make it out to be. You see, I don't Jesus ever told his disciples to just stay positive. To look on the sunny side or find the...

On Saturday I was headed to a mini-reunion of sorts. Some girls from a sorority I was in in college were getting together for lunch. Most of these girls I haven't seen in almost a decade, and some I didn't really know to begin with. I was excited about seeing everyone and catching up. I had a busy day but insisted on fitting this lunch in. It wasn't until I was on my way to the resturaunt that I started getting nervous. I seriously considered turning around. I was not expecting nervous. High school reunions of course,.......but this was just a small group of girls. My emotions caught me off guard. Lunch was of course fine. Fun even. I regretted that I had to be the first person to leave and head off to my next event and made plans to do it again in a few months. I got to the shower that I was hosting and my friend sensed that I was a little off and asked what was up. I mentioned the lunch and that seeing people that you haven't been around in years and years is often ...