Restless and Running

When you get to a place in life where you look around, and all you see are bits and pieces of what you think your life is supposed to include, you get a sense of frustration. Well. I do. 

I'm leading a bible study. The title is Restless. And I am. Restless, I mean. And thankfully I am finding I am not alone. Jennie Allen, the author, talks about threads in our life. She means all the different bits and pieces in our life that God has allowed or given or placed. 

For me these include my skills as a writer. My book that feels as if it will be perpetually in progress and never finished. My desire and love for teaching. My job at my church. My husband and my role as his wife. My insatiable love for music. My children and my role as their mother. And my longing to work for Mike Mercer at Compassion First. 

Some days, and in some ways, I am desperate for these things. I want them so badly I catch myself gritting my teeth in anticipation. My muscles flex. Relax. And flex again. I take a step and act one of these out for a minute or at least the length of the scene, almost like I am in a play. But when I have to come back to the mundane it's as if I changed the channel. Turn off this little part of me that was minutes before glowing and growing and good. 

It's not me. I mean, it's me, but the glowing and growing and good? That's all God. See, we don't glow alone. Actually we revel best in darkness when left to our own accords. But where the glory of The Lord is there is freedom. And light. And tall shoulders. And kindness. These come out when I am functioning in the gifts God placed uniquely in me. With me. For me to use, so just maybe someone will look and see Jesus has been here. 

It's easy to be motivated and take off at a steady gallop when the path is clear and lit up and narrow. But widen that sucker up and you've got gnarly bushes. Trees that throw apples at you. Dangerous predators lurking. 

But the truth is nothing important has changed. Even if your road looks totally different all of a sudden. You could be standing at a fork in the road like Robert Frost, deciding between what looks predictable and what looks like an adventure. But God is still the same. Today. Yesterday. Tomorrow. 

And when you realize this you begin to see that you aren't actually dragging around seven separate threads. There's a knot at the top. This God who is the same if he were seven single strands or the beginning of a very finely woven tapestry. 

And you start to feel like maybe these threads have a commonality. Maybe my writing, my desire to teach, my heart for the girls affected by sex trafficking, love of high schoolers, music, wife, mother. You catch a glimpse of a common denominator. They all have the potential to bring God all the glory. And you begin to pray for real. Not that the path would be smooth, but that you'd have better shoes with which to walk your path. 

Because that's what God promises. Not straight and narrow. He offers us peace while we go through it. The shoes of peace. And your desperation preoccupies your mind. 

Then at dinner the waiter brings your fortune cookie. This was inside of mine. 

Amen. 

Greedy Grip

My friends, Erin and Dan-O, once had a toddler. She is old now, but when she was an itty bitty sly thing she sneaked into the kitchen garbage can, where she confiscated a few stale Whoppers I threw away. When I caught her, she gripped her chubby little hands around those candies as if they were her last melons for the next million, billion years. I tried prying those puny fists open, but she gripped harder and screamed, "DON'T TAKE IT!! I NEEEED IT!" To that I cracked up laughing and had to call in reinforcements, because as it turns out, toddlers saving candy from the trash are infinitely stronger than me. This true story took place more than 15 years ago, but I think of it often when I begin to get the greedy grip.

We have been doing all of this back to school shopping. I really do love spending money. I love picking out school supplies. I love finding smokin' deals at thrift stores and dollar stores and re-purposing the oddest treasures into greatness. After two days of straight shopping, I left my body and viewed myself as the adult watching the toddler give a handful of Whoppers a new lease on life. I took stock and heard myself screaming, "I NEEEED IT!" Aren't you a little old for that behavior? Why yes. Yes I am.

Also, I am too aware of people who hurt and need and would really like some food. I have not taught my kids to be patient for things or earn them or choose the essentials so we have left over to give away. Oh, don't get me wrong. I wrote to God in my prayer journal this morning asking him for opportunities to give. He may have asked what in the world do I have left to give? There is a chance I had no answer. There is also a chance I made a disappointed face and felt like a schmuck.
Just look away. I can't take it.

 Now, I will be using this experience as a life lesson for my children. Not only confessing what I got caught up in, but I will also be asking them what in the world can we do about this now? Lots actually. But we will come up with a plan together. Then I will pray that they will not grow until next school year, so we can really get our money's worth. :/

And NOW, you may be asking yourself what this picture of Samuel has to do with anything. I will tell you. Nothing. It has nothing to do with anything at anytime, but you needed to see it. And, you are welcome. Someone give this kid his own show. No script needed. This picture was taken while he patiently waited for his cousin, Raine, to finish trying on her jeans. We just looked over, and there he was, on the couch at Children's Place, with the bib he picked out, and the face he knew only a mother could love. He wore it anyway, and here we are today. One step closer to having our own show.

I am thankful for that face and second chances.
 

Seizing Is Not The Same as Seizure

Sure these two words share a root, but so do koalas and kangaroos. This past week, I have been processing and asking and questioning and releasing in my conversations with God. We have lived in Idaho for almost a year now, and well. It hasn't stuck as quickly as Reno.

In Reno, we went to a church my brother recommended. They had me at free Krispie Cream donuts and coffee. Plus, the pastor actually seemed to be good at what he does. We fit. We just knew it was gonna fit like OJ when he tried on some gloves. Only we saw no need to weasel out of it. We were thrilled. I met two of my closest friends instantly. One is only a blog lurker (dear Ms. Marie. come out of the interwebs closet. We all know you are on here), the other has quite a mouth on her. Everything about the city was great. It was as if we were in a bowl with Reno and someone just added water. Presto Zingo. Instant happiness.

Years went by, and my husband lost his job, and he was offered a new job as a really hot fire fighter in Idaho. We accepted and set about to finding a church and adding water. But instead of instant happiness, our eyes were opened to how good we really had it. Presto Zingo. thump. My head beating against the wall.

I spent a lot of time comparing. I spent a lot of time griping. I spent a lot of time fighting tears. I spent a lot of time spazzing out and lashing out irrationally. Thankfully, God can handle my spastic fits.

Then I realized seizing is not the same as seizures. They may share a root word, but then the similarities end. Whining, tantrums, pity parties, and vocal aggravation: these are things that lead to seizures. Focusing on God's promises of fulfillment for my life, accepting where God has me, and leaning fully on his understanding (rather than my teeny tiny perspective): that's seizing!! It happened this week.

I became content with God's portion and his cup. I realized his lot for me has fallen on pleasant places. I was able to truly thank God for moving us here. I don't think I compared my two cities once. I let Reno go, like ripping that last little part of the bandaid off. And I was OK.

Why does it seem that just when you get comfortable, the rug gets pulled out? About 8 seconds after my bandaid was removed and my contentment washed over me, God said, "Hey, now that we have that covered..."

'It was like that old joke, "All those who think they have it made take one step forward...not so fast George Banks!"'

I am George Banks in this scenario. Only, when I  started processing again I was angry and I accused God of yo-yo'ing me around. AH. God is so good. He didn't even roll his eyes at my stupidity.

It isn't God that's in control of that yo-yo. He is not a yo-yo kind of guy. He may own cattle on a thousand hills, but he doesn't have a yo-yo. No my friend, that childish game is all mine. All me.

That nauseating back and forth of highs and lows is actually my faith. Not God's faithfulness. He is solid and steady and dependable and right and real. And that blasted string is affixed so tightly to my finger. And, honestly, I don't want it to go.

WHAT? I know what you are thinking. Who wants to live life like a yo-yo? But I need to remember what the yo-yo is like, so I don't ever want to go back. Rather than yanking the string off completely, I am asking God to snip it, just enough to leave that little string tied to my finger. And, I am telling God that I am up for anything. ANYthing. Because I totally trust him.

Lord, I totally trust you.

satan. Suck it. I hope you choke on a yo-yo.



 

Loverly and Not so Loverly Wednesdays

I love this link up. (Click that girl. You will love her.)

Not so much the word hate. It's like saying shut up. Always so harsh.

I love vintage.

Not so much the hunting through garage sales and dust. I have an allergy fit for a week after a good antique store.

I love coffee.

Not so much when I am out of creamer and my only option is sugar free. WHAT IS THE POINT? And what is that weird after taste? DARN YOU COFFEE AND YOUR WICKED WOMAN WAYS. I can't quit you.

I love the sense of accomplishment exercise brings.

I hate putting one foot in front of another because that would mean I am having self-control and I have made a lifestyle of living with NO self-control. So, you see? It's counter intuitive.

I love that I am done with school.

I hate that I wake in the middle of the night paranoid that my deferments aren't actually in place and maybe I was supposed to send my right arm and first born to cover the first month's payment. Also, I miss school. No I don't. Yes I do. No I really don't. But I kind of do.

Welcome to Hollywood

If I tell you something, can you keep it a secret? I want to be a writer when I grow up. Some may argue that I am already grown, but I will point my finger back at them and say the fact that I call my self a grown up, and not an adult, proves I am IN FACT a child. I am comfortable with it.

I have given a few tid bits here and there and I have honestly made some headway toward completing this bad boy I call THE BOOK.

Sometimes I get very excited about a project or calling on my life, only to organize and plan, and then I get a fake case of ADHD, and I can be found setting up for a fully different project. I refuse to let this be true of my book. So, in order to be truly welcomed to Hollywood, I am shouting out my dream (this reference should be familiar if you have ever watched Pretty Woman. Everyone who comes to Hollywood has a dream.)

Here is an excerpt. Again. Just so you know I am not going to stop wrestling until I get the blessing I have been promised. This is from chapter one, and I am getting ready to outline how a mother and a missionary are one and the same. (One in the same? Home? Hone? These are the battles that plague me.)

Do you ever feel like you cannot remember your purpose? I mean, maybe you know some of it, but you cannot quite find that big glowing path some of those other joy-filled mothers claim to be following. At the end of the day, you have washed some laundry, dried some dishes, cooked some food for people living in your house, and swept a floor. Still, you are left thinking, “That can’t really be all I am meant to do, right?” Maybe you find yourself pursuing so many paths that between keeping up with your kids’ hectic schedules, your husband’s business dinners, and an ongoing list of ministries, you end each day staring at the wall, mouth agape, wondering what in the world you accomplished. * And, please, do not get me started on giving back to the community, because most days I think showering is about as giving as I can be to others. Unless, of course, you count how many diapers I contribute to the dump each year, the number of children I have added to the earth, or how knowledgeable I am at getting lip gloss out of clothes once they have gone through the dryer. Of course, after I am done with

* Picture Goldie Hawn after her first day of playing ‘mother’ in the movie Overboard. Remember, the kids just kept throwing grapes at her while she mumbled ‘bub buh buub?’

this line of thinking, I start to feel guilty for feeling so useless. (Isn’t our thought process relentless?) One minute I am overwhelmed with my calling and the next I am just confused by it. I do not think God meant it to be so confusing. If you are a mother, your purpose is clear. You may or may not be called to Africa, but you are certainly called to be a missionary. 

I repeat- you ARE called to be a missionary. Take a minute and look around. What do you see? Whom do you see? My friend, you are looking at your mission field. Your mission field is your home, and your mission is to share Jesus with those little (sometimes Aborigines) who call you mommy. 

Please don't plagiarize me. It's considered poor form. Please be blessed. DO IT! Sorry I bossed you. I just really want you to feel blessed and challenged and encouraged that you are not alone in this confusing mess called mothering.

The * is a foot note that (outside of this blog) is located in the foot note department, not the middle of my work.  

 

Count it ALL Joy

I struggle with the verse that tells me to "count it all joy." I know what Paul meant. And half the time I get it, but when I am smack dab in the middle of the goo, it's tough to remember his point. Last night I woke up several times with the thought, "God, I don't know what you are doing." Then I would fall back to sleep. This morning, so early in the summer morning, I woke with the same thought. "Lord, I don't know what you are doing." Then, I tried to pray because it's a good idea when you want to understand and hear from God, that you take a second to listen after you pose sentiments like mine.

I have interviewed for a full-time teaching position with several schools in Boise. I feel this school district is not only a great fit for my kids, but my teaching styles and philosophies seem to align perfectly- so much so, the principals laugh a little when I tell them my preferred lesson plan model is a mix between two: Madeline Hunter and SIOP. They say, "that's funny. That's exactly what we use now. The district chose the best of both, and it works great so far." Yah. I think so too. 

But instead of getting hired at the end of each interview, I get a call some time later saying the same exact phrase. "You are such a strong candidate, but..." And they let me down easy. To add to the fun, my teaching job for the school year has ended, and I am bringing in a few hundred a month with Pampered Chef, but not enough to cover the bills. The cherry on top? We just lost a significant paycheck from my husband's severance pay. "Lord, I don't know what you are doing."

But maybe I do. Maybe I know God wants to give me a job close to home, instead of 45 minutes away. Maybe he wants to save me money in car upkeep and gas, and allow me to use that drive time to actually BE with my family. Maybe he has plans to prosper me and not to harm me. Maybe HE knows the plans he has for me. Maybe he knows I am seeking my security on the knowledge of landing a teaching job next year. (insert disappointed in myself face).

"All other ground is sinking sand."

So, today, I am thankful that even though the devil tries to mess with my mind and security, I do not lean on him. I fully lean on Jesus' name.

I am thankful I have someone as capable as God, and that I don't have to believe the devil if I don't want to.

I am thankful that I have an education that will one day land me a rad job.

I am thankful that I have a summer of hanging out with my kids and raising them to be the coolest kids in town.

I am thankful that GOD knows the plans he has for me and I need not fret.

I am thankful that God does not hand out demeaning head pats when I am repeatedly doubtful. Instead he hugs me closer.

What are you thankful for? I am linking up with these girls because they remind me to be thankful.
 

Prayers for Persevering

Persevering. It's almost an offensive word for people who are stuck in the middle of it. This is an excerpt of my prayer journal recently. I was feeling frustrated that we haven't adopted some babes. I really want to adopt some babes. I really think God wants us to adopt some babes. My children are completely offended that we haven't adopted some babes. My husband thinks we already have a lot of children. :/ God's witty comebacks are in parenthesis:
Lord, diligence and I do not move in similar circles, but I know you can change this. (You are practicing diligence).
Thank you, I get caught up. I feel like this adoption road has no end. (I see it.)
Is it good? The road, I mean. Is it happy at the end? (Of course it is. I made it).
Thank you. (Welcome. I love you.)
I love you more (Not possible).
Yeah, you always win at that one. amen

Date Night

This guy on one side..

This guy on my other...

and these guys tucked snuggly in bed. It was a great date night. Happy sigh.

What are YOU doing today?

So, this morning I get to fast and drink grossness called contrast. THEN, I get to go into the imaging place and get a CT-Scan of my innards: organs, muscles, bones. Jealous much? Don't hate the playah... I will let you know what they say about Walter, the twin growing within me. Erin Reed, are you reading this? Call my house. Or email me at created1@charter.net and give me an email to contact you. sheesh. hope YOUR innards are well. Praying praying.

While I'm Waiting

Some of you know that my body hates me and so is rebelling. A week or so ago, my Chiro clarified what I thought was a misplaced rib as a "something that should get x-rayed." So I made an appointment with my doc and he sent me for blood work and chest and abdominal x-rays. My husband was great enough to take the morning off and make a date of it :) Not the most entertained we have been, but still good times. There was laughter where there have been many tears lately. We won't get the results, most likely, until Thursday the 24th.

So my dilemma has been keeping my mind off of what could possibly be growing in me or wrong with my body. It isn't helping that the pain is getting worse where before I had very little symptoms.

So, over the weekend, Mike and I went on a fantastic grown up date night. The only downer was when I realized I don't have clothes for occasions like this. Still, he likes me. Then, we spent the next day with the fam at Apple Hill for opening weekend. mmm Delish. Sunday was busy with church in the morning and the rib cook off with a very special ending featuring Jonny Lang in concert. Happiness.

Monday was back to work on ministry stuff, but when you get to meet with your friends at Starbucks, it somehow seems much more tolerable.

Tuesday was back to school for the kids, lots of homework for me, and morning prayer with people who love us.

My days have been defined by how I can keep myself busy. Now that my husband and eldest are off hunting the Nevadas, I am having a trickier time keeping busy. Which leaves too much time for stewing and not enough peace. Anyone not yet praying for my sanity should count this as an invitation to start. Those of you who have been praying, I have felt it tremendously. I cannot say thank you enough times.

Age:32
Occupation: Wife, mom to many, student, substitute teacher
Marital Status: Very Married, iykwim
Reside: Reno, the awesomest place in Nevada

I am a wife. That makes me happy.

I was asleep, but God thinks it's funny to wake me often with other's prayer needs. I need less dysfunctional friends.

I think raspberries and chocolate are the yummiest combo.

I know God has big plans for my family or he wouldn't have made so many of us.

I wonder if I will be of the 50 %of teachers who quit in their first five years.

I hope I can get a job when I finally graduate.

I wish I could be home with my kids AND work as a teacher.

I save every letter or little note from my husband- even scratch paper goodbyes. I have 15 years worth.

I can live without high maintenance people.

I can't wait for Christmas this year. So much family and my kids are all big enough for it to be great!

I have too many things I want to do with my day. Play guitar, stay in bed with my husband all day, snuggle with my children in front of the television, homework, read, responsibilities, quilt, scrap, be outside, hang out with friends, travel, etc..............

I believe my husband and I can get out of debt if we listen to God more closely.

I promise to never let a green bean grace these lips. (except for when they are hidden in lumpia)

I want to stop being such a procrastinator and be better organized.

I realized I am not nearly thankful enough to God for my life.

Still, it's a good life.

Problems

The problem with loyalty is there is little room for practicality. What I mean is when one is loyal to something or someone, and the instance arises to change being loyal to do what is best, it is difficult for that one person to make the change. I am a loyal person. I am having a difficult time choosing what is best for myself over what I am loyal to. Sometimes I wish my husband was more controlling and would just make my decisions for me. Sigh. No, no I don't, but you know what I mean.

99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall

So, I am not counting down beers, or bottles, or days until my wedding. I AM counting the number of classes I have to complete until I am a graduate and get to be called a degree holder. I will have my Bachelor of Science in Elementary Education. I walk in May, but will have a couple classes to finish after that. YAY!!! Eleven-eleven classes to go. Then I start my master's the following fall. Yikes. Maybe I should make a paperchain countdown.

Date Night

This is where I will be tomorrow night. Hot dog in hand,
cowgirl hat on, sunscreen, and sunshine on my shoulders.
I am so very excited. I doubt I will catch a foul ball,
but considering we won't really know the people there,
I might be able to convince my husband to give me a
few PDA smooches. Some people can be so silly about those.

Women on Retreat

Back 2 Basics

So a few of my Vegas friends and I decided we need a retreat involving women only. Their church (my former church) usually puts one on in the spring, but some didn't want to go or couldn't because of some thing or other. They regularly host the best retreats EVER, so we copied the elements and put a Reno twist on everything. We had retreat goodie bags, personalized tees (mine had a tree, of course :)), and we had worship cds. The only thing we were missing was a loathsome, horribly cheesy song to begin each session- by choice. We opted also to fore go skits, as we didn't feel we were old enough to be a part of them. js.

Friday night was my night. I made a super delish Italian dinner, taught on getting back to the basics (retreat theme) and trusting that God is sufficient and what happens when we forget that, and we had worship time. It was loverly. We ended the night with Mr. McConaughey in Ghosts of Girlfriends Past. It wasn't great, but it was still a fun time. Boardman and I fell asleep throwing Forrest Gump movie quotes back and forth.

Saturday morning began with my NV Law test. I tried to be a giver and have my pastor take it for me, because he loves him some history and nerdery, but he wasn't up for it. When I got back to the Sierra Street Retreat, breakfast was waiting, prepared by Hot Hands herself. AH delish. She taught on interceding via prayer, and it was great!

Next, we got dolled up, and Jess taught us the skills we have been lacking: home organization, that cleanliness is truly in God's plan, and how to take a great picture! None of us are exactly the model types, but obviously, with my photography skills, I was able to help everyone LOOK amazing! Especially Chalk-outline-Jessie. Check her out for all your photography needs.

These pics are some samples.

All of that took the bulk of the day and night. Boardman, as featured above and below, made a scrumptious dinner of grilled cheesers and tomato soup. In the morning, before church, she brought our teachings to a close with an excellent reminder of when and why Jesus washed the disciples feet. She talked about Peter and his roll in Jesus' impromptu teaching. My favorite line was when she said "we should be willing to do these same menial tasks for our friends as well." It's true. We really should.

You girls make for the best retreat ever. JayEhs.

Surviving College

I hope this doesn't make me sound unloving, but I love my husband's work schedule. His schedule is a little crazy for some families, but for us, we like waking up to him coming home each morning. He works 24 hours at a time, which means I have to sleep alone every other night, but I have risen to the occasion, and I have come to enjoy my nights. I get into bed right after I tuck in my children- 8pm. Now that I have a tv in my room (we stole the kids' 19 incher from the loft), I can turn on mindless tv while i wile away the hours over homework.

Tonight I am doing just that. I have two episodes of The Office to catch up on and a week's worth of homework I haven't been able to do. Between family, friends, working 4 days this week, and getting ready for Easter (home and church), I have my work cut out for me. Mike just left for work, and he will be home Easter morning. That equals lots of homeworking. As much as I would LOVE to have my husband here, the fact is, I have a LOT of homework these days. I have 16 months left of this homework. So, for now, I see this schedule as a perk.

Why I Like Mike # 22

He has stayed married to me for 13 years.

Between hospital visits, metal shards in the eyeball, chili dinners, injured backs, subbing jobs, and fighting fires, The Man and I celebrated our 13th wedding anniversary. It was a good day because, at the end, I knew I was loved. I knew I would have someone to offer me a hug with a secret butt pinch. Ah, husbands. Love you Hot Lips Hoolahan.

There are Two Kinds of People in This World...Those Who Love Michael Scott, and Those Who Hate Him

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xOCsXFKrxJw

Follow this link to find out which one you are. Be sure your speakers are ready.

This Week I Realized

I have 18 months left of school

I LOVE playing guitar

Playing guitar while singing is a mite difficult

I do not, even a little, enjoy teaching middle school PE

I want to work with ESL students and get my masters in ESL Education

I can do just that in 18 months and totally online

When I think I only have a few days to eat junk food, I eat a lot of junk food

Someone should do a remake of Leavin' On a Jet plane


I like my kids more than other people's kids most of the time; they are cool and amusing.

*family photo taken by Jessie The Bird

I Dare You

GEORGE DARE

Okay, I don't mean this kind of Dare, I mean THIS kind of dare!

This week I was perusing the Christian bookstore and I came across this book.
I am officially daring you, and anyone you think would like to be a part of this, to love your husband. You need the book, but everything else comes from you.

I DARE YOU TO LOVE YOUR HUSBAND! Try it and see how God will reward your efforts. It's 40 days of preferring your spouse.

You boys can get in on this as well. Just do it. I will try to post some of the hi-lights. We are going to begin on Monday. So far, there are three of us. I would love to have you all join me.