Sometimes I Can't Sleep

So I toss and turn until my brain gets so full I have to do something about it. I guess I'll write to you people. Because I like you.

The birds are up and at 'em. Boy howdy, those guys sure like to make some noise in the four o'clock hour. I like it though. We have so many trees in our neighborhood, there's bound to be a good nest or two to study in the fall with the kiddos. 

Homeschooling again excites me. We have submitted most of our paperwork to the online school in which the kids will participate. They are a very organized group, but can I just say, the lady on my case is on my case. Know what I mean? She calls every three days. "It's protocol" and by that she means "listen big haired lady. I have a job to do, and no matter what we may have agreed upon, I am going to call you and pretend that agreed upon never happened. Gimme your paperwork, and nobody gets hurt!"

For instance. I sent everything except proof of residence (I forgot), Elijah's shot record update (he hasn't updated it on account of I haven't taken him to get his shot on account of we were in Vegas for the week, which she also knew), and the kids' most recent report cards (because I JUST got them in the mail late Friday night). So Stalky McStalkerton called TWICE and sent TWO emails yesterday. I missed both of her calls, so I called her back. I was one of those people who says you are crazy, but I begin the conversation in my smiling voice and the phrase, "with all due respect," and when I assume she is getting upset I remind her, "hey. I said with all due respect. You are sort of a stalker. Sometimes I talk, and you hear 'I am sending you paperwork this instant' instead of what I really said, which is 'back off crazy town. I'll win this.'" Ok. That was mostly inter-dialogue, but she's scared. 

Don't get me wrong. We have enjoyed this school program, and I'd recommend it to almost anyone. It's just that this lady takes her job very seriously. Paperwork is  NOT a laughing matter. 

[insert random office quote] yah, I have lots of questions. First of all, how dare you?

So I guess I will be taking my son for his shot this week. Faxing in a few papers. And singing Brass Monkey by the Beastie Boys, which I used to think was about a guy with a lot of stress, but fancy stress, so his monkey is brass. Now I am beginning to think it's a drug reference. Maybe I'll find a new song. 

[insert random office quote] 

Michael: Hmm... Jim? I am downloading some N3P...

Jim: That's not it.

Michael: Music...

Jim: Yeah.

Michael: For a CD mix tape...

Jim: Close.

Michael: For Holly.

Jim: Mmhmm.

Michael: And I'm looking for perfect songs that work on two levels.

Jim: What are the two levels?

Michael: The two levels being, uh, Welcome to Scranton...

Jim: Mmhmm.

Michael: And I love you.

While we are on the subject, I miss The Office. Those guys have been in my life, faithful for years. Now they are just some friends I used to know from Scranton. 

I went to the gym yesterday. It was quick and painful. CrossFit you two- timing back stabber. I can hardly walk up (or down) my stairs. I hope you are happy with yourself. I look like an idiot. 

Today should be exciting. It's day two of my job. Yesterday went well. I ate a healthy lunch and drank a seriously delicious cafe mocha, straight from the Keurig. Is this even how you spell this funny name? Whatevers. It was yum.

Today though, I get to take two teenagers (one who has my snarky wit and is merely using my place of business as a pick up joint. I mean she Is being picked up there by a friend. And another who is spending the day with me because I like her. She's not my kid. Just on loan.)

  Also, I get a new computer, and I have a meeting with a former student's mamma. She works at this crazy great blog/website  called Just For You Mom.* She said she might want me to write a little ditty or a little datty for the blog. I am super stoked, because that would be brilliant that's why. 

*if you are reading this before the new computer is up and running, this won't be a link. If you are reading this after I add the link, and you are a mom, check out that website. RESOURCES galore! Encouraging words. Some funny. Maybe this girl. We will see. It would be fun to have a different venue every once in a while. 

[insert random office quote]

Michael: We're like Friends. I am Chandler, and Joey, and Pam is Rachel, and Dwight is Kramer.

Back to sleep. Maybe I can get a full forty five minutes. 

Ps this picture makes my uterus arise from its slumber and quiver and reconsider my adamant stance on the residence there.

Fathers.

My fire fighter husband is the best. Let me count the ways:

He laughs. 

He jokes. 

He loves. 

He snuggles (but not too long, because it's weird). 

He sports tattoos like a rebel. 

He saves lives. Literally. 

He is logical. 

He is real. 

He hugs.

He can fix anything. Literally. 

He invents things when there isn't a device to get the job done. 

He put the handy in manny. 

He makes his uniform blush. 

He is outdoorsy. 

He is indoorsy. 

He is whatever doorsy we are being that day. 

He is blonde. 

He has muscles. Lots. 

He cooks. 

He takes time and teaches my children what matters. 

He prays. 

He says thank you. 

He holds the door for me. 

He rushes to help elderly people. 

He sweeps a two year old off his feet to play a game of tag mere minutes after meeting. 

He understands dude time with his boys. 

He watches me. 

He brags about his kids. 

He comes to church with us. 

He sits through musicals. 

He wears jeans like a champ. 

He is not afraid of heights or dangerous situations or fires. 

He tells me he loves me, and he means it. 

He rolls in a minivan. 

He drives 45 minutes to get home when our stove makes a funny clicking noise at ten pm. 

He reminds my girls they are beautiful. 

He says "bless you" when I sneeze. 

He's mine. 

Thank you for being a seriously excellent partner in this parenting experiment. Our kids are rad. They will always be better people because you are their dad. I didn't mean to rhyme, but you are worth it. Happy Father's Day Mike The Man Brewer. 

Priorities

I am reading a book. I've talked about it here before. It's called Anything by Jennie Allen. Please just go read it. But while you wait…

I want to hear God's voice clearly, so it's louder and most prominent in my life. I don't though. I hear the enemy sometimes. But most if the time I hear all the nonsense around me shouting for first place. I feel like a cartoon character. I jump up and can't decide between the two (or twenty) options before me. Too many choices. But only because I consider them worthwhile, even if its for just a second. I whip my head around so fast, from distraction to distraction that I can almost picture those little birds circulating over my head. It's dizzying. 

But it's not God's fault. It's mine. If I listened better. If I knew him better. If I was quicker to discard what I know is the fluff and not God's will, there would be no birds. 

But I don't. Not yet. I have heard him here and there. I try to give him credit when things go well. I don't often question him when things go "wrong". But I think he wants us to know there is more to knowing him. 

I had a brief conversation with my brother about one way to honor God. He said it was honoring to capitalize the pronouns we use for God. I said I didn't think God cares about that. I get his point, but I'd imagine he has more important things he wants us to focus on than the capital H in he. 

It's simple. 

He just wants everything. He wants more than five minutes of uninterrupted eye contact. He wants our hearts, so that we are about his love and not our busyness. 

If you are uncomfortable or restless where you are, it's because you might be doing it wrong. Jennie Allen compares this part of our life to newly hatching sea turtles. God whispers in those little sea turtle ears and tells them about his big and perfect will for them. The ocean. It's huge and bigger than they can even imagine. It's a blessing they know because God whispered it to them, not showed them. They don't even know other baby sea turtles in there neighborhood who have ever been there. But they believe God's promise, so they struggle forward through the sand. Past predators. So far away. And finally into their promised land…er. Ocean. 

I am a baby sea turtle. Watch me dig. 

This is the Day

After a string of incredibly busy days, we are wrapping up graduation junction with a trip to Las Vegas. My father is turning 60 at the end of this summer, so we are headed down early for some quality conversation and hugs. 

We are taking him out to an amazing place just outside of Vegas called Spring Mountain Ranch where the Super Summer Theatre performers will put on The Music Man. We will bring dinner and celebration dessert and lay out in our cozies under the stars. It will be a nice break from the heat. 

We are also going to visit one of my besties and her little family. I say little because her people are short. Preschool, toddler, and one month old. Thems short. I am going to do my best not to squeeze that littlest peanut too hard. I might make her mamma sign a waiver exempting me from responsibility. After all, I didn't make her so cute!!

We also get to catch up with The Baldwins and their newly adopted daughter who already makes me giggle. 

Beyond these plans, I got nothing. I just want to be in the water and shade and air conditioning. 

I'll post pics, but don't be alarmed if we look like we are melting. Vegas is on the border of hell, so it's to be expected. 

Ps. Maybe we will eat salsa and guacamole as well. Probably. Yes. Actually. Yes. That will happen. 

I want to be Nehemiah

Before you remind me I am a girl, let me clarify and say Nehemiah is a go-getter. God said jump. Nehemiah did it and added a round of push-ups on the end for good measure. And while he was doing them, he convinced hundreds of men to do it with him. It's like he sent an invitation to crazy town, and people looked around and knew this goal, this dream, this desire was just what being a Christian looked like in action. 

I want to be Nehemiah. 

God spoke to him, and before he dared utter a word, he prayed to God for wisdom, guidance, clarity, words. 

I want to be Nehemiah. 

God called him to such an outlandish task, he had no hope of completing it without God's absolute favor. So he asked for it. He believed in it. He walked in it. Scoffers be damned, he didn't follow them anyway. He followed God. God be blessed and pass it along. 

I want to be Nehemiah. 

He managed to motivate men to volunteer their efforts, muscles, energy, and eventually their lives. He knew what they were fighting for, and he keyed into that purpose and spent his breath encouraging and committing to them. One writer says it this way, "He invited them to play a role in God's story". Whoa. What? 

A role in God's story? But I do that! It's called parenting. It's called mentoring. It's called discipleship. It's called following the prompting if the Holy Spirit. It's called using my gifts to bring God glory. 

Nehemiah did all of this and said, "yes," to being part of God's story. And he was granted favor. 

His goal was not only God approved, but it was a part of God's story. That wall was protection. That wall was God's glory, and we see that repeatedly throughout this story. Men built the wall with tools in one hand and a sword in their other. I never face this level of opposition. And it shows. I am never as invested in whatever I am a part of in the same way Nehemiah and his men were passionate about building this wall. 

I want to be Nehemiah. 

As I step into the shoes of this new ministry, I find myself faced with so many of Nehemiah's same obstacles. The difference between us right now is that I am not Nehemiah. I am working on it. 

I want to be Nehemiah.