On Evangelism...

I'm not sure if you know this, but I'm not a terribly confrontational person.  Now, my very closest relationships would probably disagree, because I'm not AFRAID of confrontation, but I don't seek them out in outsiders.  I'd rather keep you a little at arm's distance when it comes to those things that REALLY matter to me, unless I know you pretty well.

A friend of mine from facebook posted a link to this video a while ago...

It bugged me for a week or so, and then I forgot about it so my mind had some time to gel around it.  When I came across it again just the other day, I found that I had something to say...

See, I can see it from both sides. 

I like the preacher, I've seen him do a few other things in the past. I agree with much of his theology and have a had a few "RIGHT ON" moments listening to him...so even though in this clip we don't actually know what he is telling the crowd, I believe that I would have probably agreed with him.  Probably.

And yet, I can hear this girl's heart.  I can understand her desire to shut down angry judgment and focus on the love of God, and the saving GRACE of Jesus.  I can see myself arguing in exactly the same manner.  Honestly, one of the primary reasons that I DON'T like outside confrontation is that most people approach open confrontation from a spirit of judgment. They then USE that judgement to make assumptions about MY argument without listening.  We all do this to a certain degree.

People hear I'm divorced, they automatically assume I'll stop this homeschooling nonsense, or that one of us cheated or some combination of the two (weird combination of things to fixate on, I know).  People see that I'm heavy, they automatically assume that I sit around and eat piles of food every single day.  People know that I'm Christian and they automatically assume that I dislike entire people groups, and various natural activities because I have to if I'm Christian.  They also assume that I AM judging them, constantly and harshly.  Assumptions make communication super difficult.

Interestingly enough, by every religion that measures these sorts of things, I am a sinner.

Like Totally!

In my life I have been drunk. I have screamed at people in anger. I have committed murder (abortion).  I've have more than my fair share of caffeinated beverages AND shellfish. I have had lustful thoughts, enjoyed sex outside of wedlock. I've lied, I've coveted, I've disobeyed my parents, been disrespectful to my husband, gossiped, been divorced...and the list goes on and on and on.

You want someone to judge?  I'm your girl.  I'm the one that whole sermons have been studied and memorized and preached to convict and benefit.  But where, in this list, do you find a place for me to have secure enough footing to judge anyone...ever?  I'd love to know, because I can't find it.  I hate some of the things I've done in my life. I'm so very thankful to not be on some of those paths anymore.

It's what I love most about my faith and Jesus in particular.  He knew ME.  He understood the options I would have, the temptations I would be presented with and fall to, and He was not ever shocked.  He knew where I would fail, and how long it would take me to succeed.  He saw my belligerent defiance, and watched me break.  He knew my intellect, my propensity to doubt and argue points in my head, my procrastination.  He knew when I forgot to flush the toilet or didn't shower.  And far from judging all of that, and telling me all the ways that I HAD TO CHANGE, he took my sin to the cross and died with it there, so that I could know him, know the Father, have the Holy Spirit with me to guide me even when I did NOT want Him.

In the end, although I am not a missionary, I think they are both right.  I think people need to be loved.  I think some people NEED the jostling of their belief systems that a solid sermon on sin can cause.  That fight...the debate that pits RIGHT -vs- WRONG is necessary to fire the brain and solidify the track of thought.  I've been blessed to fight these fights on occasion. Sometimes I've been correct and sometimes I've had my understanding of the world and my core actions about that understanding challenged and corrected.  Iron sharpens iron, but it's not a gentle process.

I think some people NEED to be held gently, carefully...safely, until they find their feet.  And most of the time every person will need BOTH the igniting of the mind and the cushioning of the heart at some point in their lives. This isn't even the flip side of the coin...this is simply one facet of the diamond that IS loving cantankerous, beautiful, intelligent people.

And that's all I have to say about that.

See ya around...

What You Do In a Day...

I think I learned something for the first time today.

Did you know that you can only do so many things in a day?

Did ja?

Now wait a minute...before you say, "Well, duh, Stace, thanks ever so much for that piece of wisdom...Oh, look, Trivia Crack is calling," give me just a minute.

You can only do so many things in a day.

I live in a world of opportunity these days.  There are LITERALLY tens of things I could / should / would do in a day.

Let me give you a list...

I should...feed the kids, do laundry, walk the dog, pay the bills, wash the dishes, wash them again, make the lesson plans, school the kids, work a little, weed the yard, mow/weed whack the yard, get the tires checked, grocery shop, menu plan...

I could/would...grow a spectacular garden, work on my quilt, craft with my kids, paint a wall, paint another one, get the windows fixed, consider a new fence, walk the dog, watch the TV, take a bath, cook something fantastic but not particularly good for me, blog, play with friends, call friends, text friends, post on facebook...

I have a list somewhere around here of all of the things I really feel I should or would like to do.  It is at least 4 yellow legal-pad sized pages long at this moment.  I wrote it as a means to remember the stuff...all the stuff...that slips my mind so that it doesn't get completely lost.  It was written as a dream list.  A "Wouldn't it be wonderful if only I could accomplish THIS stuff" list.

Somewhere a long the line, it has become something else in my mind.  Instead of a good thing that someday I will accomplish these things, in time...it has become a, "GREAT!  Look what I didn't finish AGAIN today" burden of guilt that rides around on my back, like a grasping monkey.

In my life, if it needs to get done it's up to me to see it done.  If something in the house or with the car needs to be done, I do it.  When the kids eat, sleep, need to be medicated, need to learn something new academically...that's me.  If the kids need to be trained to DO a household thing, because they are capable, because I need the help, because they should learn some basic skills before I foist them on some unsuspecting roommate or spouse someday...I'm the one who needs to train them.  That's just the way it is.  I don't always like it.  Honestly, with a teen and tween and that other one who would prefer to remain ignorant in the ways of cleanliness, I don't like it A LOT of the time...but I do recognize that it's my job.

And I do that part.  ALL.THE.TIME.

What I don't get to is the other stuff.  The seemingly constant need to sort every busy area of my house...the pantry...the garage...the yard...right now, the front room. 

The epiphany that I was telling you about happened BECAUSE of one of these things.  I've needed to reorganize the garage for awhile.  I've done a bunch of small projects around the house over the last few months and the tools have become jumbled, the paint cans scattered, and there were a few Christmas things that still needed to be put away in the boxes that were already packed and put up.

So I did.

I found everything, gave it a place.  Made it possible to find the hammer and the drill and the paint and the screws and the handy pack of drill bits...all of those...to have a place.  And I swept.  The GARAGE.  I swept it.  And I spent about 3 minutes looking at what I had wrought...and oh my, dear reader, I found it good.

So very good.

And then I walked back into the house, where, while I'd been cleaning and sorting, people had been living...and playing, and wearing clothing, and playing with the dog...and now, to add insult to injury, wanted to EAT.

I gotta tell you...every single one of those "good" feelings broke open and oozed frustration right out on the floor.  I remembered that I'd forgotten to remind Monkey-Face to empty the dishwasher, so she hadn't emptied the dishwasher.  Because she hadn't emptied the dishwasher, Bean hadn't washed the dishes resulting in a dirty sinkful of grossness that needed to be washed before anything could be cooked .  Bear had needed a clean shirt and because I was in the garage she had dug through instead put away the basket, meaning that I needed to either fold it again (the easier option) or parent her through re-folding and now putting everything away.

So very NOT good.

Then I had a stroke of luck.  Right as I was about to lose my mind in a most un-motherly-like fashion, my neighbor (let's call her Dimples) showed up.  Dimples has a special place in my heart in that I NEVER feel like I need to clean up for her.  She is new to me since the new house, but as far as I'm concerned, she's family...which is handy for this story.

So in she came, right into the worst of the mess, right at the worst possible moment where I had been seriously considering loading the girls into the car and dropping them off somewhere unsavory...and she said, "How's the garage?"

I'm sure there was more conversation.  I'm sure I blubbered about what a mess and a failure that I was and how someone more mature than I was could do all this better and probably make it look easy and anyway, someone more mature wouldn't want to kick the wall (I didn't, but if I'm honest, I wanted to).

But in that one question, "How's the garage," I knew that I HAD done what I was supposed to do.  I'd done a good job with a BIG project and because I had, I'd be able to find things that I'd been having trouble putting my hands on and had lessened my stress level.  And honestly, I was proud of myself for taking the time to do it.

I realized that I did THE thing I was put on earth to do in that moment...for that day...and I realized for the first time, just like any other person, I can only do exactly how much I can do in any given moment.  If I do this...then I can't do that.  It's simple.

I've spent a lot of years making less of what I do because it isn't what another person does...comparing my worst to other people's best.  It's wrong-headed and destructive, and I'm not alone.

If I want to do this, need to do this, feel compelled to do this...then I can't do that.  My list.  My choice.

It's a pretty freeing thing actually.  Realizing that you CAN NOT do it all and forgiving yourself for it even in the midst of wishing that you could.  I actually kind of like it.

I think I may start a new list.  A list of things I did INSTEAD.

Because I want to remember.

See ya around...

Worth...

I do this thing.  It's always been a secret...until this year when paint has been so much a part of my life...and I got caught.

I paint my prayers on my walls.

For all that this screen is my favorite form of communication, I am a pretty tangible person.  I like to get ACTUAL letters because it means that the person that wrote to me actually touched the paper.  I love things that people touched, wore, used in someway, because it gives me a hand to hold long after the person has gone, whether it be across the street or on into eternity.  I'm a toucher...always have been...this is just an interesting quirk of the same weird-touchie-aspect.

So under every wall I've ever painted (alone, because again, like fight club, we don't talk about it) there are names of people that I love. But then, I paint over the names, because like everyone else, I painted the wall for a reason...fashion, baby.  But I still can tell you where certain people's names are. When I'm missing those people I still touch their names and pray about them.

A few months ago, a friend was helping me paint one of the many walls I've painted this year and I knew her well enough to share my quirk.  Pretty soon, the kids (hers, mine already knew) were involved...and then another friend, and her kids.  Turns out, they had prayers too.  Things that hurt so much that they couldn't share exactly what was going on...but they had names...so I handed them each a brush and a little pot of paint...and everybody got a turn.

And then time went on.  I painted over the names.  They are still there...but underneath because that's what you do, right?

Yesterday, one of my children brought one of the other little girls on the street over.  My Bear wanted me to help her friend with the STAAR test studying.  OY!!  What do I know about STAAR testing other than every kid on the street worries and hurts because of them?  Seriously, I remember testing as a kid...it was kinda fun...I don't remember studying...it just was what it was...a couple of days of number 2 pencils and booklets and sitting in the gym (those were the fun ones...way too many people) or the classroom not doing homework.  WOO HOO!

Except, that's not what I'm hearing from these kids.  Realize these are my neighbors, my kid's friends...random children who pass through my house, hurting and wanting help with these tests.  Actually no, not really wanting help...actually wanting to know that this test will not be what defines them.  This test won't be what measures their worth in the world.

Like I said, I don't know anything about these tests.  Homeschoolers don't have to take them at this time in history in this state.  We may have to in the future, but not right now.

But I do know something these kids need to know.  NO TEST can define you.  Sure, we can measure what you've learned in the last week or so.  Some of them may be able to tell if you are a good test taker or if you are able to read at some level or if you are good memorizer.  We can measure some stuff that you know TODAY.  But what exactly does that matter for your worth?  See, the thing is, tomorrow you may learn something more and you may very well be even smarter than you are today.  Sometime in the future, something might happen that makes you forget this stuff that you absolutely know and you might have to really think about it to draw it back out of your mind...(Hey mothers...let's have a HOO RAH for the stupefying factors of child birth and infant rearing, huh?)

This is a moment.

It doesn't define who you are.

You still get to choose who you will be.

Did you hear me?  I won't care if you remembered the ROCK CYCLE tomorrow.  I'd forgotten there was a rock cycle until yesterday.  You matter, rock cycle or not.

You will be a beautiful amalgamation of joy, and intelligence, and talents, and humor, and kindness, and courage and maybe pain.  But let's not have an arbitrary test on arbitrary facts that someone has decided that you REALLY need to know today cause you pain.  That stuff REALLY doesn't matter and anyone who says it does needs to spend an hour in the company of a child.

So I'm outing myself.  I'm painting on my wall again...and this time, I don't think I'm going to paint over it.  I'm praying for little souls today.  Not tests.  Not that they do well.

I'm praying that they realize that no matter how they do...THEY MATTER.  And I'm praying for my teacher friends who have to administer these tests because I know that THEY know what I'm saying.  These tests aren't coming from teachers who love our kids and teach them and struggle with them and triumph with them over every skill taught.  These tests are from much too far away to ACTUALLY matter.

When the psalmist said,

For You created my inmost being; You knit me together in my mother's womb.
I praise You because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; Your works are WONDERFUL, I know that full well. 

He didn't mean, "Wonderful until you go and screw it up with that STAAR Test."

I'm just sayin...

See you around.

P.S.  Let me know if you need a brush and a pot of paint...

Proof of Life.

I've been painting a lot lately.  Lots of scrubbing my arms to get various colors off and throwing on a sweater so my arms don't show.  Lucky it's been rainy and chilly.

My paint choices have been interesting to me.  Although, strangely, not to the people who see them.  I've had so many people say, "That is SO you."  That makes me happy.  I've begun choosing for me.  I'm not sure when I stopped, maybe before I got married, maybe when we bought the house, but there was definitely a time before we came to Texas that I starting choosing the "right" things, the "classy" things.  I only looked at the painted things, the gypsy princess things, for fun.

I like gypsy princess things.  There, I've said it.  I'm a 44 year old, comfortably plump, mother of 3 who adores all those wild colors and textures.  The feast for the eyes that is portrayed in the dusty, sultry, colorful chaos that is evidently going to be MY style.  But it's not just gypsy princess stuff, I love the cacophony of color that a pile of quilts can bring...not tasteful quilts (I mean those are pretty too)...but sumptuous quilts...jewel tones...rich browns and greens...bright sunshine yellow...and I like them puffy.  And quilts usually aren't...at least not the ones I've made in the past.

As I paint, I'm discovering how much I like my hands.  Honestly, I've never really thought about my hands much...I mean, I unashamedly bite my nails and have since I was a baby...in this society that means we don't speak of them.  But I like them...I like washing a paint brush under water and watching the colors glide through my fingers and splatter on the sink...it's beautiful.  I like the feel of wet paint between my fingers or the slipperiness as I accidentally sink my finger into it on the unseen side of the piece I'm picking up.  The end of a project...all the colors on my fingers and hands and brush...feels like a tangible glimpse of history.

I like the medium that is paint.  It's messy and hard to remove from places it touches.  It's semi-permanent so it leaves it's mark.  I've known this about me for a long time, this joy in leaving a mark.  I have a plastic table cloth that I've used for projects since before my kids were born.  If those stains could speak, they would remember the laughter...the mess...that was my life...and my family's life in that snapshot of time.

I like the first coat of paint.  The one that you can still see through.  It's the first time the you decide whether you will love or hate the project.  If it's pretty good, you know that a second coat will just make it better...and if you hate it?  Well, why bother with the second coat? May as well pick a different color. 

I LOVE that paint is easily painted over.  It speaks to my inner Anne Shirley, "Hey look, a new day, no mistakes in it" nature.  There is very little that has ever been painted (speaking of walls and furniture NOT your beloved Dali) that can not just be painted again.  It's very forgiving that way.  Sand it down, slap on another coat.  And yet, the paint that was there never completely goes away, it's just covered over. I love that I can see that other people who painted lived here before me...I can see it with every outlet cover I remove to paint behind...the brown that used to be in the kitchen, the darker brown in the nook, the dark blue in the game room, the bright green in Monkey-Face's room. 

I love the second coat.  The one that WILL be there until you paint it again.  The brush strokes and finger prints that prove that on some Sunday afternoon you were there, listening to music, maybe dancing and singing a long, leaving your mark...your proof of life.

People don't often think of walls or painted furniture as art.  So often we look at a space and think, "Man, it is TIME to repaint," and I'm not denying that a fresh coat of paint does wonders for sprucing up a place or a piece.  But I'm starting to wonder about the hands that held the brush before me.  The layers before mine.  I'm at least the third layer of paint on my walls...probably the fourth, because it is clear to me that the paint went from bright to neutral before me, and I would bet just from the evidence left on the popcorn ceiling that there was a neutral before the bright.  So builder, home owner, painter (probably, or skilled friends of home owner, because that neutral layer was done far better than the one before it) and then me.  That's actually quite a few brush strokes.  Quite a few lives that have touched my house, if only in passing. I wonder what they were thinking when they painted.  I wonder what they are doing right now.  How has their life changed since they stood in my living room painting the walls that would become mine.  There is so much left to imagine in the layers. 

I think that may be what I love the most about paint...The history.

My life is full of layers.  It's full of memories and experiences that overlay one another.  Good follows bad, joy follows sorrow, an ever turning wheel that I can not and would not change.  My Bible, my journal and now my walls are full of my prayers.  When I close my eyes, I can see the moments, hear them, the layers of people that have built up like paint around my soul.  I'm thankful for them...those people who are part of who I am...those ones who have made a mark that will never wash off.  In so many ways, I am their proof of life...and they are mine.

See ya around...

Happy New Year - 2014

Yeah, yeah, I know I'm a little late.

We've been sick and lazy the last few days...and I'm not even feeling apologetic.


The sunset in Florida in September...that's the kind of lazy I feel...

But I woke up this morning...and the sunrise was beautiful, and I realized...We have this whole year in front of us with no mistakes in it yet. 

So, while I haven't much to say, I leave you with this...

May your 2014 be filled with a million joys and experiences to grow you in ways you can not even imagine today.  May you have friends who love you and offer you peace and grace and a kick in the butt, where needed.  May you and your family be healthy and strong so that you can face up to the challenges that will meet you this year.

There are dreams to be met and lived, my friends...Let's GO!

See ya around...

Nah...Creativity Stinks...

Clearly I need medical help.

Setting a goal to write in my blog that I meant to keep?  And announcing it?  Like a challenge?  So people can text me and say that they READ it.  Sheesh!  I don't even LIKE being creative...takes too much time...it's too messy...doesn't fit in my schedule boxes.  Buncha artsy fartsy nonsense, am I right????  (Say yes, it IS my blog, after all.)

Yeah, I'm not buying it either. 

See I do things like go to a rehearsal for the worship team at my church this weekend...(I'm not singing...nope...just WATCHING...just to be clear)...they make me happy with all that silly-talking-to-my-soul junk.  And then that stuff just STICKS in there...making me happy.  And I fall asleep hearing their voices...remembering the frenetic-squirrel-on-red-bull energy of the drummer at 7:30 on Sunday morning...and I smile.  I wake with one of their more poignant songs on my head,

Or

I watch from afar as my brother, Mr. BakerMan, builds his chocolate dynasty, one mouth watering chocolate delight at a time.  Struggling with lunch ideas and new tastes and ways to shape the chocolate, while his love, my brother-in-law, uses his painter's eye and hands to make the bones of the shop, the display cases, the wall, a beautiful backdrop for BakerMan's chocolate...and I pray as they work on this birth of a dream that takes so much time and yet is going to be a wonderful reflection of their creativity together...

Or

I talk to my friend, the Composer, late, late at night, the only real time we can find for each other.  And I hear the absolute passion he has for his various crafts and I laugh with him as he tells me his latest project with excitement.  He always seems to consider how much work it all is, and still find the energy to get it going.  There is always a current project and then a bucket list FULL of more projects that are going to keep him busy and creative until the end of time...

and I think, "CRAP, I really have to write something today".

Being surrounded by creativity and actually embracing it is a new thing for me.  These people who have been in my life forever all of a sudden impact me differently...and I realize, it's part of who I am ...It's almost like it leaks out.  Ooozing stuff I want to say...thoughts, unformed, that I have to wrestle with to put on the page, but they are GOING on the page.  And I realize, possibly, I don't HAVE anything to say except...maybe

"Wow, look at the sky, y'all...what a glorious day today is going to be".

So I look at pictures and wonder, once again, at the beauty of my kids...and joy of my family...and thoughts form...stories...ideas...songs.  I hear all their songs...see all their pictures...go over all their words once again...and am inspired within my own realm for just a minute.

 Maybe, I have another post or two before I give it all up.  We shall see.

See ya around...

Inspiration and other stuff I complain about...

Blogging is hard.

And since I last blogged really regularly Picasa's online albums have switched over to Google+ which wants me to share my pictures with Google+ which I don't like AND don't use and now Picasa doesn't have the handy dandy share button that lets me copy what I'm embedding and although I USUALLY figure it out from Blogger I'm not positive of the procedure and it makes me cranky to try. (Did you read that all without taking a breath?  That is how I wrote it...so if you didn't...go back and read it again.  No breath.)

And I've been busy.

And the gate to my fence broke and now I can't get the trash cans out or the mower in.

And I've been planning stuff...all kinds of stuff.

And my friend bought a cooler planner than me on the very same day that I bought my planner  and now I want hers and not the one (well ONES) I bought.  AND she's moving far far away...soon.

And I got a new laptop and a new operating system and we aren't exactly on speaking terms right now.

And...Blogging is hard.

A month or so ago, a friend of mine suggested that I read "The Artist's Way" by Julia Cameron.  Great book.  You should read it, too.  I'm not done with mine yet...but I'm far enough in to say, "glad I'm reading it."

Anyway, "The Artist's Way" is one of those challenging books that requires you to think about the stuff you are doing...have done...and then consider that maybe there is more inspiration in your life than you are using.  As you do the things the author suggests, you start discovering more inspiration. 

Sounds great, right?  Sure enough.

And it was.  For a few weeks...it really was.

I was blogging a lot.  Singing a lot.  Reading.  Cooking.  Planning.  Cleaning. 

And then, as always ALWAYS happens...the spontaneous inspiration died. 

Part of it is my issues with people.  Yep, me, the friendly one, I have issues with you all.  It makes no sense to WRITE this out-loud on a public blog, but as much as I like to stand up and write and talk and sing with and in front of people...I have a huge issue when people notice.  And it's worse if they like what I'm doing.  And inspiration KILLING if they know me well enough to look me right in the eye.

It's performance anxiety of the worst kind.  I'm not afraid to DO stuff.  I'm afraid that you'll NOTICE and have any opinion.  Super weird quirk, if you ask me.

Anyway...so less than 3 weeks into the book...people that love me started noticing that I was doing some of this stuff...and complimented me.  So I quit.  Because, y'know, that's the logical thing to do when you find a little bit of success in something...quit immediately...solves ALL the problems of the world.  PPPFFFFFTTTT.  Sometimes I get so tired of myself.

All of those words to say...I'm challenging myself and I'm inviting you along for the ride.  I'm learning to write.  I'm a beginner in this art and any talent that I may currently possess is completely God-given.  Other than teaching my children, I've never studied this craft...I've never written long enough to get past the inspiration killers.  To write when I didn't feel like it, about things I may not be passionate about is part of the challenge.  To write ANYWAY, regardless. 

I think that figuring out how to write regardless of inspiration might be a key for me to do other things beyond my circumstances.  I'll tell you, I think this might be a rung on this ladder out of depression for me.  But, I really like to hide when I feel like too many people are looking, because watching TV is far less judgy.  And I'm talking about ME here people, I get judgy on myself if you are looking.  And I'm MEAN.

So, I'm TRYING to write anyway.

(There's a statement that is going to come back and bite me.)

So expect me to.  And when the post goes badly or weird...know that I'm just learning.  I'm learning to write.  I'm learning to let people into my strange little head and I'm learning to focus on the writing and not necessarily on what other people think about it.  So think to yourself, "She's gotta learn,' and PLEASE keep reading...keep commenting...keep looking me in the eye.  Eventually, I'll be able to look back. 

Right now, I think I'm gonna figure out the stupid picture thing...please hold...I even have an analogy...are you ready?

Okay...so I like the sky...and I was taking pictures of the clouds and when I pulled the pictures into Picasa I pushed the little "I'm feeling lucky" button.  The resulting picture made me super happy.  The sky was vibrant blue the clouds puffy white.  Now, I'd liked the original picture...it looked JUST like what God gave me...but with a VERY little help, the picture got better.  That's what I want to happen with my writing...I like it very much when I'm inspired, it's beautiful, but I want to learn more, practice more, to tweak it into something better.

Sigh...we will be working on analogies...Here, why not look at these clouds...

Pretty, huh?

 

Vibrant-er, huh?

 

 

Well, like it or not, I'm doin it anyway!  ;)

See ya around...

Moody Chick Music

(Please use CAUTION when clicking the song links in this post...some of them are NOT polite, kind or necessarily socially redeeming.)

God is amazing in where He leads us. The paths and convolutions of our brains are a maddening artwork of insanity that some how, usually, come around right.  I am continually stunned by the process of becoming who I am.

See, when you spend as much time as I have sitting cross legged on my bed, you come to a place where you can see the places you shook your fist defiantly in the face of God, where you pretended to do the right things and still pretty much ignored Him and the places where He, calmly, rearranged the circumstances so that you could see it all in a new light, with new eyes.

I am an enthusiastic and prolific singer.  A good one.

This has ever been true of me.  More than being a good singer, I am a constant singer.  Over my lifetime, I've sung with hundreds of people, thousands of songs, multiple million lyrics, hundreds of harmonies. 

Also, I am a writer.  An enthusiastic, prolific writer.  A good one.

This has also ALWAYS been true.  I currently have 11 journals in my closet, the oldest dating back to December 18, 1983, my first real kiss.  These don't include journals that are packed or lost or that I have thrown away during the course of my life and they don't include one that I know I still have somewhere that chronicles my appendectomy surgery when I was 9...so early 1980.

I'm saying this out loud not to invite praise or to astound you with my arrogance.  I'm saying this because many times over the years I've lost sight of it.  I mean, there have been plenty of critics to my various forms of art, plenty of careful words offered me when I had a crazier idea.  Over the years, I let those voices into my head.  I heard, "You can sing, but you are not THAT good at it, you are not musical enough for music to matter."  I heard, "Sure you put words on a page but who would ever want to read it? It's not something that is valid to do for a living"  Not necessarily because those were the actual words said, but they were the impression I had of what was said and became the words I said to myself over...and over...and over again.

Follow me...I'll come back around to this...

My musical tastes throughout my life have been eclectic, but over the last ten to fifteen years had become pretty static.  I listened to Christian pop stuff most of the time...some Southern Gospel...some hymns...now and then some edgier Christian Rock.  But pretty much all Christian all the time.  Not that there's anything wrong with that.

In the last few months, I haven't really FELT like Christian music.  I enjoy it, but I've been in the mood for loud, pounding, windows down, moody chick screaming at the top of your lungs music, think Martina McBride - Independence Day, or Alannis Morrisette - Right Through You...Or there's the mellow, melancholy, hopeless stuff like Sarah McLaughlin - Hold On.

I'm not sure why it is necessary to give vent to anger and despair.  Why it's necessary to give voice to the baser part of me so that I can come back to center.  I just know that moody chicks cussing at a world in which they have zero hope often comes far closer to how I feel at times than any of the hope filled, wonderful Christian songs I've sung...and by that sheer, RAW emotion, these types of songs bring me back around to grateful faster than anything else.

I've been on a Pink kick for the last few weeks.  Seriously, I might need an intervention.  Now I don't know much of her story or much of her beliefs, but that girl can write a lyric that hits my soul, baby.  Songs like True Love  and So What? with lyrics that really have reflected my thoughts from time to time set to a tune and rhythm that allows me to scream out and then let go have been cathartic through these chaotic times.  The song Perfect is my new theme song...check out the second verse and maybe you can see why...

 

You're so mean when you talk

About yourself, you are wrong

Change the voices in your head

Make them like you instead

 

So complicated, look how big you'll make it

Filled with so much hatred, such a tired game

It's enough, I've done all I can think of

Chased down all my demons, see you do the same

 

Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever, ever feel

Like you're less than, less than perfect

Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel

Like you're nothing, you are perfect to me

 

I really don't want my kids to grow up with the doubt filled voices in their heads about the things that God gave them and meant for a gift for them.  When they are older and far more responsible and the world says, "Put that away, dearie, the time for your art is over, let's grow up now."  I want them to fight it. 

 

Fight the downward slide toward maturity.  Fight the voices that declare that while creativity is nice, it is NOT necessary. The voices that tout specific skills in intelligence, organization and hard work as the only valid way to spend certain years of your life.  Those voices are wrong.  Those voices seem to always discount natural, joyful flights of fancy unless they directly pertain to the vocation at hand.

The thing is, without those gifts, without my knowledge that I am a singer regardless of my job...that I am a writer despite how I make my money, I am incomplete...less...far more prone to anger and self-loathing...and far less able to be confident in all the millions of other things that God wants ME to be.

 

I'm coming to a place through these moody chicks and a thousand other interactions that I don't really CARE if anyone likes what I'm doing.  I've cared for far too long that my stuff wasn't good enough.  You know what?  It's not.  If you view art through the eyes of an audience, it is NEVER good enough.  NEVER.  There will always be critics, haters, practical people who think these things are pointless.

 

But if you view your art through the eyes of God, the one that gifted each of us in our own spectacular ways, there is no "not good enough"...there is only you.  You as HE built you to be.  And He wants us to live unashamed of the gifts, and using them, everyday, in every way that He leads, no matter what those other voices say.

 

Because we are PERFECT to Him.

 

See ya around...

The Wedding

Back in March, my mother decided to get out of here for awhile.  It was a vacation, a needed break.  A MUCH needed break for all of us.  See, the amount of change required of a family, even a close-knit family like we are, increases the stress level and potential for depression.  You know this.  This is not a new thing... that changes have dogged our heels for a long time now and stress and sadness had become a daily grind.

So, mom took the opportunity to just get away for a bit.  Or so she thought.

As she reconnected with all of her friends in Arizona, there was a surprise that the Lord had in store for her.

Let me introduce Grandpa B...and well, you already know Mom/Grandma.

Mom was already pretty good friends with Grandpa B.  See, he and his wife had parked their motorhome across the street from Mom and Daddy's 5th wheel and they had all been friends.  When Daddy died (over 3 years ago, which is still a surprise to me), Grandpa B and his wife had helped a lot.  A little over a year ago, Grandpa B lost his wife suddenly.  Both Mom and Grandpa B retreated to the safety of their homes (Mom in Texas, Grandpa B to the great northwest) as they mourned and tried to move forward in their lives.

Truth be told, they were both still mourning when they met in Arizona a few months ago.  But God had a plan.  Mom has said for a long time that if the Lord wanted her married He'd have to drop a man in her lap.  Ha Ha, silly Mom, challenging the Creator of the heavens and the earth that way....aren't you cute?

Neither of them SHOULD have been in Arizona.  Mom just needed a break and decided to visit my aunt and uncle who have been staying in her 5th wheel.  Grandpa Bob decided to visit his brother and sister-in-law in the park at the same time.  Really?

And then, they met again after all this time.  To hear it told, it was a little like a bolt from the blue.  SHAZZAAM! (I hope you heard that in my southern belle voice...it has at least 3 syllables...SHA ZZA IM).  They went out on a date...in a convertible Thunder-bird.  Well played, Grandpa Bob.  Chicks dig Thunder-birds and convertibles.

Anyway, in just over seven WEEKS they were married.  Yes, I said married.  They wanted to get started living their lives, traveling together, and enjoying all the perks of married life.  And they had little grand girl eyes on them.  Call it old fashioned, but honestly, I am so blessed to witness them sticking to their convictions in this crazy world. 

The wedding was tiny...just us and a few friends and the pastor.  Then we all went to Scottie P's (cuz we were HUNGRY, duh) and then on to the beautiful party that was thrown by our community group at church.  It was perfect.  Short, sweet, loving.  Just the thing to kick off a life.

People keep asking, "But how are you?"  It's funny sometimes.  How am I?  I miss my best friend who I got to live with again for awhile, it's definitely lonelier here.  AND the dishes aren't completely done nearly as quickly.  But I would not, for even a second, have her anywhere but exactly where she is.  Loving a man who loves her and understands her hurts, because he has his own.  He understands her faith, because he has his own.  He really is a wonderful gift to our whole family because he is such a gift to her.

But even more, I am humbled by my Lord who would make a way for both of them at exactly the right time, in exactly the right way to be so incredibly blessed.

Shortly after the wedding they took off to travel the country and now I wait for the daily afternoon texts that sparkle with the joy of her new life, sharing their location and always some funny little thing that has delighted her.  So incredibly blessed.

In the spirit of constant learning and growing I have started a list of "Things I couldn't possibly have unless God dropped them in my LAP!"  I figure, it couldn't hurt.

See ya around...

The Artifice of Permanence

This morning I came across an article full of pictures which spoke to my soul.  ( The 33 most beautiful abandoned places in the world )

I've been thinking about permanence lately.  What, in my life, will stand the test of time?  What will my children look at when I am gone to help them remember who I was?

I already know that my place will not stand.  I've moved way too much to put any stock in any structure, I've seen too many places in my rear view mirror.  At times in my life this has made me very sad, but I realized, as a child, that leaving a place meant there was a new place, a new group of people, a new adventure in store.  And then, I've been blessed to live in a time where technology has made it possible to carry the people you knew with you your whole life long, if you've a mind to.

These pictures are beautiful, and eerie.  They bring to mind someone else's life.  Other people, just like you and I, walked here, hummed while they went, worked at a life's passion, flirted or argued, touched the things of this place.  Then one day, that all stopped.

Picture #22 The Russian Military Rocket Factory was the inspiration this morning...can't you just feel the echoing emptiness of the sound of the last man's boots walking through and locking the door.  Feel his emotion, looking back over his shoulder at this place...this PERMANENT place...that could've once held the reverberation of thousands...and now forsaken. 

My life is like that sometimes.  Echoing, lonely.  And yet, unlike these fallen monuments, I don't even consider permanence.  Even in these tributes to human ingenuity, some of them spectacular feats of intelligence or creativity, we see that nothing physical on this earth lasts.  Time will change everything if we live long enough.  Those changes will become the new adventure and in time the other places we went, the other absolutes in our lives, will be nothing more than a memory, softened to beautiful by time.

See ya around...

Brand New Day

November 1, 2012...

What a crazy month October was.  And AWFUL in so many ways...

Here's a run down.

October 5th - Divorce final.

October 12th - Begin moving into a hotel...it's got a kitchenette and a bedroom...but it's a hotel.

October 15th - Grandma flies to Arizona for the time being, to vacation and enjoy her friends, while we figure out where we are going to live.

October 16th - Close on the sold house.  The one that we've lived in for almost 10 years

October 17th - Girls go with their Daddy to Colorado to visit Camera King and Auntie SP and all the Colorado girlies.  They will be gone until October 30th...and I will be alone.

October 18th - Move the baby grand piano, that was my Daddy's and is now my Mommy's out of our perfect room, to a friend's house for the time being.

October 18th - Walk away and leave the keys to this house in this house for the next family.

October 19th - 30th - Be alone...sleep...rage a little...be with friends who make me laugh and talk to me and wrap their arms around me and love me even when I'm crazy-unloveable (you know who you are)...plan a little...walk the dog a little...journal and read, my bible and The Scarlett Letter, ALOUD just to kill the silence.

Quite a month to live through.  Quite a month to walk with me through to all of you who have been there.

For all the awful, there have been so many bright spots.  So many moments of joy.  So many people lifting me up with encouragement and hope...in prayer and in action...sending me songs and email and texts.

Guess what.

It's a brand new day...brand new month...time for a brand new life...let's get this party started!

See ya around...

Life in a Hotel...

--- This was written during our time at the hotel.  Normally I would back date it, and may in the future, but blogger has changed a few things and I can't seem to find the date.  Possibly, I'll push the publish button and it will date it to the day I wrote it...but if not...before you read...Know this was written in October of 2012...the terrible month. ---

Well, part of our journey has been moving all the stuff we use on a daily basis into our hotel room.

Ha!  That's actually kind of funny in retrospect.  Seriously, right now, look around your house and pick 30 things that you use on a daily basis.  There are some standard things that you just aren't going to forget...for instance...I wasn't going to forget a tea cup...school books (well most of them anyway)...my laptop.  But there are these things...that you only sometimes use on a daily basis...my coat, for instance, that I didn't even MISS until last week when it dropped into the 40s at night...or various vitamins or medications that you only USE if someone gets sick or bit by a big old green bug and it leaves a huge welt and two puncture wounds on your child...but I digress...we've forgotten a few things.  Thankfully, we live in civilization and so far there hasn't been anything forgotten that couldn't be replaced.  But there have been a few, "Did you remembers?" and each one has caused varying degrees of inconvenience.

But after over a month, I have to say honestly that we haven't missed much...not in terms of stuff.

We have missed our freedom...our ability to run right out the door and visit friends...or to open the door and let the poor dog out (he is averse to pooping on a leash, poor thing).  I've missed being able to have a phone conversation...and OH how I've missed being able to cook bigger things without setting off the smoke alarm...it's a freedom that I didn't even realize existed until this hotel.

I would like to say that missing all these things has helped us to grow new and wonderful skills.  Sadly, not as many as I'd hoped.  I fear we've watched a little too much T.V. and fallen back on electronics a little too much.  I've been struggling for months with so many things, and I'm afraid that my imagination is shot.  Where I used to see adventure, I often see drudgery.  It's not a good direction, frankly.

But there have been some lessons learned here...the hard ones...the ones no one wants to have to learn.

I've learned that not every thought is worth unpacking.  Seriously.  We are collectively broken right now.  And we have been for awhile.  Sometimes we look pretty normal and we've always been good at smiling.  But underneath it, there is a disillusionment in every one of us.  The shocked, "Well, that's not what was supposed to happen" that overwhelms us often.  The first week that the girls were back home to me was really difficult, because I hadn't come to this truth yet.  And one thing I'm VERY good at is talking.  And with every tear, or bit of  anger...there came this big discussion.  I've learned that sometimes just shutting up is the answer...sometimes the bubble has to burst and then, in a minute, everyone is ready to move on.  I've also learned the MOST of the crazy emotions are lies.  We are not ALWAYS going to be in a hotel.  Our WHOLE life doesn't stink.  We are not ALWAYS going to miss every event. 

I've learned to sleep well here.  But it took first learning to turn off the T.V.  And then learning that just because I'd had a terrifying dream, I WAS okay and to purposefully think of something else.  I also learned that when I couldn't shut off my mind, I needed to write.  Write an email to a friend...Write a blog post I never intended to share...Write in my journal.  I learned through many moments of waking thinking I was in my own home...that THIS is not that home...THIS will never be that home...I will NEVER have that home again.  And I had to cry...and be angry...and plead with God.  And then, finally, I had to realize that home is NOT a building or a bed...it's a heart and it's the family...and while my heart was a little shredded...these girls...my mommy...me...WE are home...no matter where we are...what we eat...how we sleep...We are home.  And all of a sudden, I got it, and that was enough and I could sleep.  I've slept better in the last 3 weeks in this hotel than I'd slept in the last 7-8 years.

See ya around...

Less Than One hour...

We are out on another trip...on our way to California.  Things have been going wonderfully...dry roads...happy kids (by and large).  It almost feels like we're getting good at this sort of thing.

We were out on Highway 70 in Arizona and we were marveling at the clouds...they were gorgeous...


As we went on things began looking more and more ominous...





The direction we were headed took us right through Globe, AZ which is at 3,544 feet above sea level down the side of a mountain to Superior, AZ which is at 2,749 feet.  It makes this drop through a series sharp guard-railed turns and 6 and 7% grades.  Now, see, it's probably not that bad of a drive...when it's dry.

It should be said that there are two things that I am TRULY afraid of.  One is high places.  My legs go cold on good sized over passes.  The other is driving at freeway speeds, when I don't KNOW where I am, in heavy rain.

It started raining a few minutes before we hit Globe proper...we saw the sign at 4:07 pm.  By the time we hit Miami, AZ, 3,411 ft at 4:21 pm it was pouring...I mean waterfalls-coming-down-the-cuts-in-the-rock pouring...

By 4:24 we were PUSHING water.



There was a gray truck in front of me...he didn't have his lights on...and there was a point I couldn't see him at all...thankfully I could see the guard rail.

It was terrifying.  We were praying aloud...specifically for the Lord to close the skies.



I'm not sure how long we drove in it...but by the time we saw the sign to Pinal County at 4:37 pm it had completely stopped raining.  As in, He closed the skies.



We were in Superior, AZ by 4:49 pm...it hadn't been raining for awhile...


and by 4:54 pm we were all the way down... 

It's weird.  I'm not sure what to write.  I know that writing this can in no way touch the emotion of that timeframe.  I was still shaking an hour after we were down.  I'm not sure I want to get back in the car even now.

I also know that there are a bunch of people who simply aren't afraid of heights or rain and so it doesn't seem a big deal.

Still, it was a big deal to us.  And scary.  And faith building.

He shut the skies for me.

See ya around...

(Pictures supplied by Beanie and log of places, elevations and times supplied by Grandma)

February 3, 2011...One Year Without My Dad.

Huh. This one is long.

I've been thinking about this particular blog post for awhile. What do I say? My sentimental nature doesn't let me let it pass by without comment...but what.should.I.say?

This has been an incredible year. Really. In all my years so far...it has been the hardest I've passed.

This is the year I lost my dad...and late in this year I realized that I'd actually lost 7 friends/family in 18 months.

This is the year I grieved with my mom.

This is the year that I've had the most health struggles, whooping cough, broken rib, unexplained fatigue, heart freak-outs, girlie stuff and that doesn't include health issues with my kids.

This is the year that Bubba and I have struggled the most to find each other and actually considered what might happen if we couldn't.

This is the year we experienced the heartbreak of leaving a church that we loved.

But you know what...as hard as this year has been...I think I've witnessed more miracles and joys specifically from the Lord than I ever have before.

When Dad died, I got to be part of an incredible community of friends and family the week of the memorial. We had somewhere in the neighborhood of 30 family members join us in Arizona from all over the United States and an entire town full of people who had loved my Dad surrounding us and praying with us and loving us. I made friends that week that I will never ever lose...friends that love me and my family and pray for me and my family that I only met because of that terrible moment that I had to lose my dad.

Because of the loss of so many of my loved ones, I've had to face God and decide whether I would follow Him even through this. There were times even I wasn't sure which way I would go. God has truly been my support in so many ways while these tragedies changed me irrevocably. Even so my faith feels more solid than it has been in my entire life.

This year of grieving has been so precious. I've gotten to know my mom so much more deeply through all of this. I've been blessed to be the strong one sometimes and the weak one at others. I've been allowed to wrap my arms around my mommy and just cry. And I've been blessed to laugh with her until my sides hurt. This has made us better friends and sisters in Christ than we ever have been. And I am blessed each day by the bond.

This year of health problems has been interesting. I'm learning to live inside my limitations. I learning not to plan for tomorrow, but to do exactly what I can today. I'm learning to let the mess roll off my back. I'm learning to pull my kids close and just hold them even if I can't do anything else.

I've worried for years about not doing everything that people think that I should...I'm learning to just get over it. And I'm learning to say, "No, I don't think so" and "I can help you so long as you realize that sometimes I won't be able to help you and can live with that." and the hardest, "I know that you think I'm good at that...but I don't think it's a good idea right now".

I don't know, anymore, that I'll ever be up to snuff again. I pray that I will, but for the first time ever, I'm done FIGHTING and have started accepting. That's not to say that I'm ready to roll over and die...but the stress when I can't FIX it is leaving me finally. And honestly, I think it's good for me.

During this tough stuff, Bubba and I struggled. A LOT. But the Lord provided us a marriage conference that has opened up topics that BOTH of us have been stuffing for years. It has allowed a level of openness and honesty that we haven't had in a long time. And even more than that, God has given us both understanding and opened our hearts to grace and mercy for one another. We aren't out of the woods yet...but for the first time, in a long time, we are both trudging in the same direction.

Leaving our long time church back in March was one of the most difficult steps of this year...But God had an amazing plan for us. He had been preparing a different church for us. He had brought them to the area...He had established several of our long term friends IN the church...and He found them a BUILDING in February...just in time for our arrival. ;)

Within two weeks of being at the new church, we knew we were home. There was no uneasy search. The kids were comfortable immediately which was unlike our last church hunt. I think the most amazing part of it all for me was how much I hadn't realized what I'd needed, until God pulled us through those doors.

Through this new church, we have a community, unlike any we've ever experienced before. We have a small group of people who we meet with weekly who have made us one of the family in a way that has been missing in all of our church experiences. Missing church is the biggest disappointment of our week, and I have to say that has never been the case before. Through this group, we are making friends as a family and it is very sweet.

We also have a counselor that has been really helpful to Bubba and I. We didn't know, when we left our old church, that we would need a counselor...but God did.

As I look back on this year that I was forced to live without my Daddy...I realize that I am blessed. I would not have chosen this path...not for a million bucks!! And I wouldn't have WISHED this path on my worst enemy. But this path was chosen for me...and I followed it ONLY because the Lord held my hand the entire way...

For I know the plans I have for you, declares the LORD, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope. Jeremiah 29:11


I always THOUGHT I believed that before...now I KNOW that I do.

See ya around...

Worship Camp...

Well, it's over. The worship camp that my kids went to last week is over. I sit here pondering my next words because the camp...the show...the production of the whole thing was so stunning that I do not want to take the chance that you will take my words as simply a proud momma spouting superlatives and think, "yeah, yeah, Stack, we know, kid's performance, yada yada".

So I'm going to appeal to the performers that I know who read this blog. This is to all of you who have ever rehearsed for a performance, practiced choreography, memorized lines, had stage fright, sang ONE song in front of an audience in a choral group or in the choir. To those who were ever behind the scenes taking care of lights or mics or costume changes or writing programs or any of the other myriad of things that go on behind the scenes in ANY performance. And then I'd like to add to that list, those of you who I know have done these things with children.

How long would it take in rehearsal time alone, to put together a show with 12 numbers in it? Okay, 12 numbers and 20 Speakers, 7 dancers, 20 Soloists and at least 2 Silent Actors (although there were more)? How 'bout all of that coming out of a group of somewhere in the neighborhood of 80-100 kids that ranged in ages from Kindergarten to 7th grade and had NEVER worked together before the first morning of the camp? How long would you estimate that to take?

My experience with similar stuff took WEEKS...sometimes months.

They did it in five, three hour days of a Summer CAMP.

And it was amazing. Every song was good. Every song had choreography of some sort and some of them quite a lot. At the beginning of every song, kids had to move up and down the risers, and shift around to their places and there was not a single mishap.

And the individual kids who did solo performances? Every single one of them did a GREAT job. They stood where they should, they put their shoulders back and they SANG, and DANCED, and ACTED...and if a few of them were a little nervous (or even a lot) they pulled it off and blessed us all with their visible joy, beautiful voices, and funny lines.

I have been thinking about it all night. I don't know the three (correction, there were four) ladies who took on this task personally. But I am stunned at the result. Even with the huge amount of support that they received from the parents in the church for the nitty gritty tasks, I believe in my heart that only through the grace of God could such a feat be accomplished in so short a time.

Watching it I was reminded of the Bible story of Gideon. He was the one that the Lord wanted to fight a battle but told him that his army was too large. So through a series a events Gideon whittled down his army to a mere 300 men. Using only those 300 men, horns, jars and torches, the Lord defeated the Midianites. Judges 7.

I am so thankful that all who were involved took on the task and I am humbled by their faith to do it. I'll admit the very human part of me, who has done it, makes me feel just a little proud of them for their accomplishment...I don't believe ANYONE could have done it better and that the Lord chose very well, when he chose them.

As for my kid's parts? They LOVED it. I asked them early on how this experience compared to other summer camps in the past and they both agreed (only Bean and Bear were old enough) that, although there was a lot of work to do, it was AWESOME!

Here is Miss Bean singing HER solo. If I'm granted permission I will post more...if not, those of you who get our year end DVD will probably see it there.



Praise the Lord for these women who ministered to our children this week...for hearing God's voice and rising to His challenge to teach with joy, thank you for touching my kids in this way...

See ya around...

Eat My Bubbles...

So that child...you know the one...with the funny hips, that drives me crazy? Yeah, her. Well, since November she has been Sah-wimmin'. And swimming and swimming and swimming...

Through the winter it was 2 hours a week...but since June it's been every single day for an hour. She has a great coach who, understanding the implications of these hips, in May, INSISTED that she MUST swim every single day she could this summer. He has also been saying all summer, "You should go to a meet...you can compete...". To which she has replied, time and again, "I can't...I don't want to...I'm not ready"



Well, she changed her mind.

And for the first time in her life, ever, she competed at swimming today. She didn't win the event...but she gave some definite competition...and the best part? She WANTS to do it again. I call "VICTORY".

oh and Legg Perthes???


See ya around...

Tangible Beauty...

I've had a bad day. I'm sick. Sicker than I've been in a while. When I lay down my breath sounds like a bag-pipe. A Bag-pipe? Yes, a bag-pipe, I take a breath, it whistles, I stop breathing and it keeps whistling. Snot does amazing things inside the body...and apparently it's able to slow the air down long enough to produce sound far longer than I want it to.

Anyway.

So I didn't do much today except sleep. My head hurt so bad this morning that I couldn't eat anything. I ended up taking activated charcoal to settle my stomach but still sinus headaches are no fun and my neti pot was doing little so I basically entertained myself inside my own head most of the day.

Being alone in my own head isn't so great right now. I think of my dad a lot. I think of our lives a lot. And today, I was thinking about how beautiful my childhood was and how not as beautiful my kids' childhood is.

I moved a lot as a kid. By the time we moved to California when I was 14 years old, I'd been to or though 42 of the contiguous states and had lived in Washington, Oklahoma, Washington again, Pennsylvania, Florida and then, of course, California. Today I kept thinking about Florida. I was still a really little kid in Pennsylvania...we moved the second half of third grade...and by the time I was in California I was a busy teenager. But Florida? My childhood in Florida was pretty idyllic.

See, back then, 30 ish years ago...people weren't so worried about kids getting swiped. Oh sure, it happened. The incident with Adam Walsh's son happened while we were in Florida...but it was shocking instead of commonplace. And Florida, unlike any other place that I've lived (except MAYBE Washington, but I was too young to enjoy it) was FULL of nature. I mean you couldn't get away from it.

We rented a house that was set on two lots...we had SEVEN mango trees, an avocado tree and a banana palm...never mind the palmetto bushes, the swath of ferns, the huge big Norfolk pine and the aloe vera...well and the grass that in summer could swallow you, that, at times my dad had to use a machete just so he could then go at it with the push mower.

And that is just the flora. We had fauna too...lots and LOTS of fauna. So much fauna that all of us school kids went to the Environmental Center every year to learn all about the fauna. The reality was that in some cases we were MEAT and we really needed to learn about the alligators and stingrays and snakes and spiders and such...you know...all the stuff that really COULD kill us.

There was a place that you could get down to the Indian River just two blocks from my house...a big old palm tree had been taken down by some storm or another and we'd climb up and over that tree down onto the beach and play in the alligator infested waters. We never saw one. Never saw a water moccasin either...but bites and attacks were common place even back then...so we just didn't tell my mother. Not until MUCH later.

That doesn't even COUNT the friendlier fauna. The squirrels...the raccoons that were nightly visitors to my dad's little cement coy pond. The armadillos that waddled and were run over everywhere. The manatees that really WERE in the rivers and we saw them on several occasions.

I think a lot of my sense of beauty comes from Florida. Watching the storms come across the water...Black sky butting up against the almost turquoise water...it always looked more blue with the storms coming in. Playing at the bathtub beach that was enclosed a little way out by a coral reef, that on clear days had the BEST tide pools I've seen to this day. Riding in my dad's 22 foot sail boat out from the river into the salt water and seeing dolphins jump alongside the boat. Mangrove Swamps...if you've ever canoed through one, you know what I mean...they're just beautiful...sometimes stinky, but beautiful.

Because of all this nature...we all learned a bunch of stuff accidentally. Like how to bait a fish hook. How to clean a fish...well and how to freak out mom with the heads and tails of said fish jutting out of the pavement...it was art...I thought it looked like the fish were jumping through the pavement. She wasn't NEAR as keen on it as I was.

We learned a LOT about fire ants...how to break open the nests from afar and then wait a minute and creep up and check out the tunnels and caverns from which they were scampering to remove their children.

We learned how to climb trees...and more importantly how to get down from trees, when you KNEW your brother wasn't going to get home in time to rescue you.

We learned how to DIG HOLES...big deep ones...that in time would fill in with water which taught us about something called a "water table".

My kids don't have that opportunity. We live in suburbia...where they cut down all the trees to build houses and then put up all these little ones. Our backyard is pretty good sized, but it's boring. We haven't figured out what to do with it yet...it's been 7 years...and still nothing. Everywhere around us is pretty much suburbia or city. We live in north Texas...there is no beach around here...the best I can hope for is a lake, and it's not close enough. I'm going to have to actually search it out. MEH!!

So as this was going around in my head...this crabby old, feeling sorry for myself cuz things are so much harder right now. I realized...that's not how my kids feel, they don't know what they are missing yet...and maybe they don't have to...I can do stuff to bring them tangible beauty. I can plant a garden. Take them to the lake (if I can find it), teach 'em how to fish. I can take them to the nature park. I can. I can. I can.

And what's more...it occurred to me that some of the beauty in life isn't outside. It's in our hearts and if we just keep TRYING...there's beauty there too.

Here's some of my tangible beauty today...look at the sun on her hair...breathtaking...



Sunshine, almost all the time, makes me high...

See ya around...

Baptism...

Beanie has been talking about getting baptized for a couple of years now. She was actually scheduled to attend the baptism "party" at our church last year, when our newest little cousin-type-person was born and her momma needed our help and we took off to Colordo.

So when the party came around this year...we were DEFINITELY going...

It was quite a party. For some reason, I didn't GET that there was a pool party to begin it. I should have gotten it. I should have worn my suit or asked Bubba to wear his because the little girls couldn't go in without us and so ended up scampering around in the grass, tackling their Daddy...I think they had fun anyway...actually I think Bubba had MORE fun...



I really took a bunch more pictures...but as ever...other people's children were involved so you don't get to see them...so sorry...

When it came right down to it, Bear decided that she also wanted to be baptized. We'd talked about it a bit before to be sure she knew what it was all about. I'm so thankful they got to share this. I share my baptism date with a best girl friend and it is such a wonderful memory to me.

Here they are waiting their turn by the side of the pool...



Bear ended up going first...here's Miss Bear...



And here is Beanie...



It was a blessed day and a great experience.

Or do you not know that as many of us as were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into His death? Therefore we were buried with Him through baptism into death, that just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, even so we ...also should walk in newness of life. For if we have been united together in the likeness of His death, certainly we also shall be in the likeness of His resurrection...Romans 6:3-5

See ya around...

Some things cause pure joy...

It's true...

I can't embed this because it's too new on youtube...but watch this clip of "Britain's Got Talent"...

It will bring you joy, I promise.

Susan Boyle - Singer - Britains Got Talent 2009

See ya around...

Musical Monday

This one right here...this is how I feel today...

And no, I don't know how to imbed it...just click it.



See ya around...