Chapter 5, Page 7

That's where I am in THE BOOK. Glad for it, but I wish I was further. And by that I mean I wish I spent less time feeling tired for myself and more time exuding effort.

Yesterday I heard a guy say something like, "Spiritual goals are fantastic, but they mean little without human effort to spur them on. Just as human effort is nice, but it all means nothing if God's spiritual goals aren't the focal point."

Profound. Simple. A little bit rude. So, I woke at 6. Rolled my human effort out of bed at 6:10. And I accomplished some of God's spiritual goals for my life. The best part? Spending this time with God. The worst part? Now I have to go to work, and I don't feel nearly finished.

Weekend

Do you ever feel like you can't squeeze enough relaxing in, so you become frenzied and so need a vacation from your problems? I wish we could all get in a car and drive for two weeks before we land in Lake Winnipesaukee. We could stop at every interesting dot on the map and call it homeschooling.
My Friday was free of work, free of responsibilities really. We went to the pumpkin patch, ran into friends, rushed home to drop people off, ran to Ross to plead with God to let us find a dress for our date night, screeched home to get ready, and then headed out on our date. Best night. Best friends. Favorite hubby. Art gallery when we know the artist. Just great times.

Saturday was much of the same. Up early for a moms only birthday breakfast, drive across town for an appointment, walk around Guitar Center and kill time while friend drives back across town because your appointment was much shorter than you anticipated. Then costumes, costumes, and more costumes. Then make dinner, make a friend dinner, bring a friend dinner, feed a brother's dog. Rush home to get kids fed and in bed and crash into your pillow.

So, when Sunday got here, I took God up on his brilliant idea and said no to all of it. I did have to get to church early because it was my morning to sing. I'll show up early any day if it means worship is on the agenda. It's my favorite. More so than sugar. But when I got home, I sat. I vegged. I listened to my favorite sounds. I captured pictures of children carving pumpkins. I turned on my computer screen and wrote report cards while singing along to my favorite songs on my iPod. I chatted all the while with good friends and thought nothing of politics or should be doings or cleaning.

Now it's ten, and I am about to jump on the bus to New Hampshire and get this vacation on the road. Bob Wiley, you are brilliant. Truly. Baby steps, untie your knots.

I am already looking forward to next weekend.

Thankful This Day

"This is the day that the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it."

Why is it that we forget to take time to be thankful in the seemingly little things such as breath, another day to hug our babies, a heater in our car, a roof with no holes and not made out of cardboard? We only notice these things when they are gone: Breath, baby hugs, heater, shingled roof. Not only do we notice when they are suddenly (or gradually) missing, but we get offended at the idea that anyone would DARE take what is so rightfully ours.

I do not want to be this person. Taking the time to smell the roses isn't enough if we forget to say thanks for them. Having a harvest party in my kindergarten class isn't enough if we forget to stop and tell the Lord thank you for the farmers, their families, their sacrifice. I am grateful for the weather. Without it, all of it, there would be considerably less food.

Lord, keep me from feeling entitled, even to my breath. I don't deserve one more. Thank you for the hugs I get to have this day. For the friends who are coming. For the friends who have been here already. For the besties that sharpen my iron. For the words you choose to share through me. For the life I have still to live to bring you the glory I get in the way of. Thank you for how you protect me from my fears. Help me to remember you are good whether you bring those fears to my doorstep or not. Help me never say, "You are a good God if I never have to go through the scary." Help me to say, "You are God even when I do."

Amen. The end.

Monday Morning Muse

 Their, "why is the rum always gone" faces. Also, Treasure Island night at school. Love it. Love them.

 Still working on wiggling out these two front teeth. Eli almost had him convinced to do the old string and doorknob trick. Sam's unexact words were, "What are you? CRAZY? That's a terrible Idea."

 My head always looks weird in pictures. Why is this?

 Fall clothes. Coffee. Paris purse. Cute kid.

Ah. And the winner is!! The squirrel with the coffee. What a dream.

Pardon Me As I Wipe Away the Drool

Can I just admit that I have been in a non-alcohol induced stupor the past two weeks. Sick. Sick, Sick, and more sick. Colds, ear aches, allergies, headaches, neck pain, blah blah BLAH. I hate it all.

I finished my meds and broke out in hives. That's cool. Not everyone wears red the way I do, so it worked. Thank goodness it was cold. I covered every bit of my skin and got compliments on my tights.

I tried to make the rules at the beginning of the school year: share everything except cooties and bad ideas. Nobody listened. Someone came up with the bad idea to share cooties with me.

In the midst of it all, I found a lump in my right breast. It was late Saturday night, right as my head cold was really picking up steam. I was almost too tired to care. Almost.

By Sunday morning I had prayed myself into a frenzy of peace, and although I felt at ease, the idea of telling my husband, in words, with my voice, made my vocal cords freeze.

I was supposed to be at church to sing. I texted my sister by law, and I couldn't just bail last minute. So I told her. It was awful. She faked calm, which I appreciate.

 Then I rolled over, dried my tears, and opened and closed my mouth ten times trying to form just the perfect words so my husband wouldn't worry. Nothing came to me. Not a thing.

Except, what if my hugs are numbered?

What if this is my last birthday?

What if this is one of the last times I get to roll over and see that face that melts my heart and makes me throw all of my "should be doings" out the window?

What if?

Then I remembered that each minute I have is icing on my cake, and I won't live under the instruction of the enemy. He is lame. He wants me to live in fear and in the land of what ifs. I haven't the time. I have people to love. Hugs to hand out. A husband to...well... roll over and look at.

I called the doctor. Got myself an early birthday present called a double bilateral mammogram and an ultrasound and left the office with my results.
They said the B word right to my face. (No, No(dot) el. Not that B word).
Benign.
I have cysts and nothing needs to be done right now. I get to have a mammogram every year now, which is four years earlier in life than most women, but I'll take it.

I'll take IT and all of God's promises. In the meantime, I will just say, "suck it satan" and go live life. And by that I mean it's time to go make out with my husband. Life is too short.