Category: Uncategorized

I have had a few of  those days that were “one of those days” all in a row.  My mind has been busy running about in multiple directions and I have not been able to make sense of what has been going on in my head.  I had some things that were acutely upsetting and some things that have been nagging on the fringe.

I went to the Friday night ladies retreat with much on my mind. I was on the verge of tears, having cried nearly the whole way there, and I really could not focus on what I needed to.  I had tried to call Julie on the way to the retreat in hopes of getting some calming advice, but had missed her.

When we finally caught up, she had the perfect advice for me.  Go to God.  Tancy, quit trying to fix everything and go to Him.  She did not hesitate to tell me what I needed to hear instead of telling me what I wanted to hear.  She spoke truth into my life.

If I could figure out how to screen capture on my phone I would put a picture of the list of messages that told me to go to Matthew 11:28-30, and since I did not have a Bible with me in the dark hallway where I sat, she typed it out for me.

Come to me all you are burdened, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light. 

I sat and let the tears flow. I do not have sort out my whirling mind alone.  It is never something I can understand.  I do not have to have the answers to the situations that I feel I can not tolerate in that moment.  I do not have to have the strength.  The yoke is not designed for just one.

I pulled myself together and returned to the rest of the women at the retreat. I know that the message was a good one.  I know that the message was a powerful one, but it all paled in comparison to what God had for me that night.  It was about learning to trust Him enough to actually give it up.  Do I trust Him enough to just let Him handle it without Tancy’s help?

The next morning as I was returning from the world’s shortest run (abbreviated my my knee injury), I looked to see mail in the open mailbox. It was left from the previous day.  I NEVER get the mail. It is not my job.  The kids get (and lose) the mail.  JP gets the mail. I do not get the mail, but it was there so I picked it up.

I saw the familiar handwriting of my mother-in-law on an envelope addressed to me.  I opened it and it was obviously a note from God.  I love when God is trying to tell me something, and just in case I may not QUITE get it, He sends a little extra reminder.

 

I am in the “Hair Rage” stage of growing my hair out.   However… I will win.  I will conquer. I will NOT cut it off.

Jillian Michaels might be the devil. 

I really, really hate that people have ruined Facebook for me.  I used to have fun.  Now, every time I open my browser I have to think, someone is going to report this to my mother.

Oh wait… I am 37… it really shouldn’t matter should it? But somehow… it does.

I have been stuck at the SAME weight since January 23rd.  It is not fair, but it is what it is. Whining about it will not help.  Giving up will not help.  I am just very frustrated about it. 

Lyssa and I leave for our cruise in 46 days.  (Don’t be a hater)

We still can not find the missing keys.  The money it is going to take to replace the missing key is ridiculous, and I refuse to spend it.  HOWEVER, I need the car to move!  

I really do not like Maranatha’s new mascot.  It looks okay, but Sabercats?  All I can think of is “THUNDERCATS HO!”  I agree it was time for a change but…. ew.

I REALLY want to para sail while on the cruise. I am scared of heights and scared of the ocean, so this should be GREAT fun. BUT I REALLY REALLY WANT TO TRY. 

I am afraid to even talk about my weight and weight related things because I have been up and down so much in the last eight years that I know that people must think, “Oh, here we go again.”  I am afraid to fail.

I figured out what I hate about spring.  MUD.  I hate mud.  I swept this floor three times today.  I mopped.  You can not tell.  I used to think it was because we had a big dog.  Well, two little dogs make a big mess too.  And four kids. And their friends.

I am really struggling with disobedience and our children. Not in big stuff, but in little things. I am in a quandary as to handle it.  I know it must be dealt with, but how.

I am really ready to be in the dirt.  I am ready for little plants and warm dirt (NOT MUD) between my toes. 

I very well, might not be able to move my legs tomorrow.

The insurance process starts tomorrow. That should be VERY interesting.  The first person comes at 9 to survey the damage.  I am guessing the paint that is hanging off the walls and ceiling is a sign that things are not kosher in our walls.

I am SO very blessed. In too many ways to count.

 

 

Throughout my recent trip I was met with glaring examples of the type of “Christian” that I pray my children do not grow up to be.  I was surrounded by people who claim Christianity, and yet are rude, mean, and uncaring.  One of the thoughts that kept swirling through my mind was that I would be writing about this problem that we have.  I was ready to write paragraph after paragraph about the many bad people who had irritated me.

However, then I got a flat tire.

Okay, so it was not flat YET. Are you happy Scott?

I was happily driving down 65 south to Ozark on my way to another basketball game when a car pulled up next to me and a man started waving frantically waving and pointing.  I had been thinking the car was handling funny, but it was quite windy and the road was pretty rough so I had continued driving.  When I pulled over and found the damage, I immediately realized that I had no jack.  Under any normal circumstances, I would just change the tired and get moving again, but unless the three little kids were going to lift the car for me, I really needed some help.  So I started working the phone.

My first call was to Scott Gill because I knew he was a few minutes behind me going to the game.  My second call was to Amy Mixon, because I knew that they were a few minutes ahead of me on the way to the game.

Scott’s first reaction, “We’ll be right there.”

Amy’s first reaction, “I can send John.”

Not a moment’s hesitation. Just an immediate offer of help.

It turned out I had Scott, Coach Anderson, and the boys rescue me because they were soon to be passing me on the highway.  I figured John did not need to backtrack to come get me.  They found me on the side of the road fishing my spare out from the underside of my car.

They immediately took over and in no time we were all on the road again.  We made it to the game, and all was right in the world again.  I tried to tell Scott that I could have done it, if I just had had a stinking jack.  They could have just let me finish it.  I could have… la la la… He said, “I know, but sometimes you just gotta let people help you.”

As I drove down the rode, I got to thinking about the scathing post I was planning on writing.  I was going to complain and whine about the stupid people.  But, God reminded me of the nice people.   There still are nice people in this world.

The nice guy waved frantically at me.  If I had not pulled over when I did, that near flat could have become a blowout while I was going 70 mph down the highway.

Friends were willing to come get me, even if it was out of their way.

Friends did come get me.

Nice People!

Then I noticed MY focus changed. Instead of looking at all the irritating people, I started noticing the nice ones.  The ones who make sure the door does not slam in your face.

The ones who smile just because.

The friendly people.

The people who make you want to be around them again.

The nice people.

There are still nice people around… You just gotta look for them.

 

 

I know that to some, you think pantyhose are innocent.  But to any girl who grew up Baptist, you know pantyhose are truly evil and are capable of many wrongdoings.  Today, they wrecked my car.

It all started with a dress. My aunt and uncle gave me a new dress for Christmas.  When I opened it, I thought it was very cute. Then I saw the size.  I thought that it would be another item to hang in the closet and hope to wear sometime soon.  The other day, I decided I would see just how far I had to go before I would be able to wear the cute black sweater dress.  To my shock, it fit. It fit well.  It looked GOOD!  I danced about the house proudly.  My little girls liked it.  My baby boy told me I was pretty.  My teenager just shook his head like I was weird or something.

My only concern with the dress was the fact that it came to just above my knee.  I was not quite sure what to do because we are having this crazy winter and I wanted to wear the dress now. Julie told me the answer was tights. I told her that I do not wear those.  I definitely do not wear pantyhose either!  I wore tights a few times when I worked at Cathedral, but that had been a while. I cannot even tell you how long it had been since I wore a pair of pantyhose.  Those things are the devil!  She told me to suck it up and wear the tights.

Last night, I dug through the sock box under my bed and found two pair of black tights and one new pair of black pantyhose.  I was determined to wear my new dress.

I just have not felt well the last couple days and I could not seem to drag myself out of bed this morning.  I started the morning behind which makes me crazy.  Nothing was working right.  My hair would not do what it was supposed to.  The dogs were driving me nuts. I poked myself in the eye with my eyeliner.  It just was not going well.

I forgot to print words for the music. So, I was even FARTHER behind!

The car did not want to start.

I am finally ready to go, and I decide it is time for the final step- the tights.

I pull out the thickest pair.  Put them on.

I hate tights.

Then I decided to pull them up a little. If you a woman who has ever put on tights you know what I did next.  I grabbed the excess down farther on my leg and started to work it up my leg.  Well, my fingernail went straight through the knee of the tights.

The fingernails are a new thing.  I have been trying to quit biting mine.  I am a chronic biter, and I have tried to stop biting them a hundred times.  I do not do well with nails.  The little bit of nail that I have grown was deadly to the tights.

NO problem.  I have another pair. It is a small price to pay for those new nails! Those tights were old anyway, right?  Goodness.  They were probably two or three or more years old.

Next pair of tights.  A little more lightweight, but I should stay warm right?  I put them all the way on and then I realize that they had a hole in them BEFORE they were ever put away. Could it have been a hole on the bottom of my foot where it would not show?  or the top of my leg?  NO… right on my calf! 

On to the pantyhose.

I hate pantyhose.

I did not even get those pantyhose above my knees before I had a run down the front of my leg from my newly grown fingernails.

I was ready to throw things.  Luckily, pantyhose do not go anywhere when you throw them, so no one got hurt.

I told #4 we were leaving, and I stormed out of the house.  I threw my car in gear and CRASH.

JP had parked his van behind mine towards the end of the driveway.

I am blaming the pantyhose.  I am pretty sure it had nothing to do with my temper.

 

A few minutes ago I sat down on the couch and began to type a post on Facebook about my wonderfully gratifying day.  It was just a GOOD day!

I went to the gym and got in a good workout. We sped through our morning and arrived at co-op with everything we needed and on time.  We had a great day at co-op. It is always nice to have  a break, but it is always nice to see each other after a break. My classes went well.  It seemed like the day flowed. I think everyone was happy.  Co-op was good.

I came home and actually sat down for a few minutes. I made a nice big dinner for my well deserved cheat meal and found out my hubby was not going to get to eat with us. I looked around at the OVERABUNDANCE of fish (Which doesn’t not keep well) and made the snap decision to call my parents.  My parents had not started their dinner so I told them they had ten minutes to get over here to eat.  We were able to eat a great meal, complete with a DELICIOUS dessert.  AND we played a game after dinner.

Does it really get any better than that?

Well, yes, my dear sweet eight year old….

The child who has made me seriously consider getting a job an giving up homeschooling.  (as recently as this morning while at the gym)

The child who has made me seriously reconsider my entire position on Ritalin.

The child who makes any day without wanting to run away from the home during our school time a victory .

The child who makes me doubt to my very core my calling as a teacher and sometimes as a mother.

He asked if HE could read a book.

Now, to some of you this is no big deal.  To some of you, you have no idea why I would even think twice about this, but this is a BIG deal at my house. To me as a mother of my first three children, this would no have been a big deal, but NOW as a mother of four…

“Mom, can I read you one of my library books.”

So, he read.

THREE CHAPTERS.

Sure they were low level.  Sure they were short chapters, but he was READING.

Then, you know what else happened.

He said, “Wow, that was kinda fun.  Can I get another one?”

And he read that one too.

While I was turned and helping another child, he decided he should read the third library book called, “Bugs!”

I told him how proud of him I was, and sent him off to brush his teeth and find his pajamas.

and I heard this from the kitchen…

“Hey girls, I read three books, and it was actually fun!  I think I might like reading.  I am going to sneak two books into my bed and read those too.”

I cried.