'Tis The Night Before M2M ...

... and I am down here -
trying to figure out
just what to wear.
Should I wear the shirt
with the stained up armpits?
And no foundation,
lets show them my zits.
Should I bring my Bible?
No, I'll bring Twilight.
the book's just as big
with entertaining insight.
And if Linda A. should be a big bore,
I'll reread some of that fine vampire lore.
Flamingo is with me,
she's got my back.
She will protect me
from those moms that are wack.
Just like a new kid
on the first day of school,
I think I might pee myself
and that is not cool.

-------------------------------------------

Okay, it's now an hour later an I'm feeling convicted. I shouldn't "bust" on M2M, wacked out moms, and if Linda is boring than I shouldn't bust on her either (according to my husband). But the poem is just too good to delete, so it stays. However, I don't personally know of any wacked out moms in M2M (and in fact I don't know any wacked out moms at my church - though there must be some), and I hear Linda is a great speaker so I'm sure she'll keep my attention (no need for Twilight - although I will still have it to give to Flamingo). I'm sure M2M is a wonderful uplifting environment and that everyone will be welcoming and down-to-earth. Perhaps there won't be too many moms that would admit to wanting to strangle their kids at times, but I won't be admitting that either. I think my main objective is to keep quiet. I don't want to get into trouble. And I guess I'm looking forward to whatever will be taught. My parenting skills can only get better.

Besides, they're serving breakfast. It can't be that bad.

Finally!

I'm done with the Twilight series. After months of procrastination, I finally took the plunge at the Sam's Club and took the 4th book home with me (after paying for it of course). So I've been in a fog of reading since Friday afternoon, and have finally finished the thing about ten minutes ago (I'm a slow reader). I was not disappointed - I was highly entertained and don't now why I put the inevitable off for so long. Let that be another lesson for me. Now, to call my Grandma ...

Third And Long

If I haven't verbally asked God these questions, my attitude has.

Did you blink first?

Did you wonder what it would have been like had you left her here for us?

Did you hesitate at all?

Did you second guess yourself?

Did you almost let her go?

Did you consider the ramifications?
Are you certain they are worth it?

Do you see me?

Are you here to listen?

Do you hang around for the mess afterwards?

Am I supposed to thank you for this and glorify your name?
Who said?

Why didn't you take me? (Jason & I had taken a ride on our motorcycle the morning before the accident).

Can't you just solve the damn problem?

Can't you just help us out? In a tangible, good, my kind of way?

Can't you give us some answers right now?


Let me sleep.
Take away the grief.
And my troubled mind.
I'm sick of this weight on my shoulders. God, it's too much.
Just take it!
I need this load to lift. I can't bear it anymore.
Fix the mess you've left us with.


It's like I'm entitled. I'm entitled to God's divine intervention. I'm entitled to security and happiness. Everyone says, "God will provide" and I'm here holding my arms out shouting "Bring it on God! Show me how you'll provide!" If I can experience it, I'll believe it, I'll believe what they all say. I'll believe what I used to believe. But you've got to come through first. You've got to prove yourself. And I'm waiting, so hurry up.

Wow. I'm surprised he hasn't smacked me up along side the head yet (or worse)! Who am I?

Who am I?

Perhaps I should be focused more on living a holy life. Whatever that means. I'm learning about it now though. God doesn't owe me happiness. He doesn't owe me security. And his idea of those things are so much different than mine.

I'm viewing God through my pain. I'm viewing him through my impatience. I don't have a clear vision of him, and I haven't been able to ask him for one. What am I afraid of? My mentor challenged me to look at God. When I sense him next to me, she asked me if I ever turned to look at him. I told her no. I don't turn my head. But sometimes I look out of the corner of my eye. She asked me to look at him. What do I see and how does he view me? These are her questions I'm supposed to think about before I see her next.

I need to remember that we don't live in the garden. But we don't live in hell either. So count my blessings. And remember that it was never all about me.

Polly the Pianist would play the hymn, Count Your Blessings, for Sunday morning worship at my church growing up. What a joyful and upbeat song. I loved it. And you could tell Polly the Pianist loved it too.
Count your blessings name them one by one. Count your blessings see what God has done. Count your blessings, name them one by one. Count your many blessings see what God has done. Do any of you remember that hymn? (This song is #1 on my playlist. Check it out to jog your memory!)

Sometimes I feel like a quaterback that has just been sacked by "the Fridge". I finally get up, with the wind knocked out of me and grass stuck in my helmet, to see that I've lost 15 yards. What do I do next?

A This And That Post

I don't know what to post. I just know I want to write. It's been hard. These past few weeks have been hard. Just when I think a day is going well, out of the blue my eyes tear up and I find that I'm weeping. It's hard to have moments of privacy. The kids have been around so much (because it's been summer and they've had off). But now they've returned to school. Today we were at a little girl's birthday party and wouldn't you know it, I struggled to keep the tears from flowing down my face! This sucks friends! It's surreal and too real at the same time - how can that be?

My neck has been hurting me for about 3 weeks. I think the sudoku game has put a kink in my neck and the car accident has enforced it's presence and all the stress is making sure the pain isn't going anywhere. I'm going to have to see my chiropractor. And I hope that muscle pain/tenderness issue won't come back, but tonight I'm feeling it.

I haven't found a job yet, so I get to enjoy some quiet time while the kids are at school. I have some organization projects planned. And yes, I finally chose what to be involved in at church. I'm joining the Mom 2 Mom group. Heaven help me. And heaven help my small discussion group! Sista D and I were joking the other day about me starting a whole new private blog devoted to my adventures in M2M. Don't worry friends, I won't. I do try to watch what I write on here most of the time, I don't wish to step on anybody's toes & I try to respect other people's privacy. But sometimes the temptation is just too great.

Do you ever wonder who actually said "there are no stupid questions?" I'd like to talk to that hippie. I think there are plenty of stupid questions being asked. I ask plenty of them.

Well, I'm going to leave you with this little depressing poem by Jan Richardson, the woman who's blog is The Painted Prayer Book. I love her poems. At least the ones I've read. Which aren't too many. And I've gotten them off of Deb's blog, Sacred ~ Encounters.

And when you have drawn
your cloak of night about you,
and when
you have rolled back
day sky
and pinned it to the horizon,
and when
you have given yourself
to the darkness,
and when you have blurred
the familiar shapes
into uncertain shadows,
then,
thou tender of darkness
and of day
do not forget me.

~ Jan Richardson

Cutting Barbie's Hair

I had to laugh when I saw Barbie's hair in my bathroom's trash can. And be a bit proud and sentimental as well. Cutting Barbie's hair. It had to happen sometime, only I never thought it would. Little Miss' favorite past time is being a couch potato while watching TV and snuggling with her blankie. It's only been in the recent past months that she's actually started to use her imagination (and her countless barbies, my little ponies, and my littlest pet shop toys) and got up off the sofa to play in her room for a while. Yesterday, after school, she nearly sprinted up our long driveway. I thought she had to pee (she told me the day before she didn't pee at all during school), but no. When I finally reached our house (after a bit of huffing and puffing), I saw her curled up on the sofa with the TV on and her blankie held to her face. My sweet girl! She's such a cutie! It's hard to believe she's old enough to be in school all day.

But anyway, on with my boring story. Last night she wanted Ken in the bathtub with Ariel. I didn't know how to feel about that so I said no, Ken couldn't get wet. But Ken managed to accidentally fall into the bathtub just as I walked into the bathroom. I plucked Ken out immediately. What if Ken's kissing Barbie? Perhaps Ken will have to get kidnapped.

Some say cutting Barbie's hair is a right of passage (actually, I just made that up - nobody said that). As kids , all my friends cut their Barbie's hair. I never did. I thought Barbie's hair was beautiful just the way it was - who wouldn't want to have long flowing glowing hair? I certainly did! I thought my friends' hackjobs were amusing & a bit rebellious. So I laughed when I saw Little Miss was just like a normal girl. And I couldn't wait to see the Barbie! She definitely received a hackjob bob, but Little Miss was happy with it. She said she likes it like it is, that she wanted to give Barbie a hair cut like mine! Thank God Sista D has the gift and skills to cut my hair and in no way does it resemble Little Miss' Barbie's hair! But I didn't tell Little Miss that. I just smiled and said "Oh!" Like, "of course, it's just like my hair!" I then told her that she doesn't need to give any more haircuts (she also gave some of her ponies haircuts too).

Little Miss is growing up. She excitedly told us this evening that she and her friend were being chased by boys at recess. She said one of the boys sliced his throat with his finger at her. She can't wait for tomorrow! I'm now glad there's only one 20 minute recess.

Perhaps I shouldn't worry about her making friends at school. It's only been three days and already she's being chased by boys.

The Tank

I'm tempted to rename my dodge nitro. Instead of the silver bullet (named in honor of my green bullet previous), I should have named it, The Tank. I would include a picture of my car in this post but I don't know how to blur out the license plate and since this is a public site with many fans and readers ... you know.

For the second time (in two years) we were re-ended. This time we were all in the car and thankfully, nobody was hurt. The unfortunate person who ran into us was a young college woman - girl more like it. You should have seen her little car! In both cases where I've been hit, my protector vehicle totalled the guilty offender with very little damage to itself. We will have to get a new rear bumper which will only take a day to install (I'm a bit bummed, I wanted a rental car - perhaps a cute little ford focus or something), but that's it. Her poorly built import had to be towed away with it's whole front end smashed up accordion style. And can you believe her airbag didn't even go off? Let me just tell you that my hubby saved the lives of two pedestrians that day who were walking across the street to go to a yard sale. If we had not been there to take the blunt impact of her little red car ... I just shudder to think what would have happened to those poor people. I'm only too glad we had been of service to them that day. Unfortunately, they didn't find anything worthy of their taste at the yard sale and walked away empty handed. (I would have given them a thing or two).

The girl's mom was greatly impressed with the silver bullet. In fact, she is now considering buying one for herself.

As we pulled away (after about an hour sorting everything out with the police) from the crime - I mean accident - scene, Little Miss in a very irritated voice asked "Well how long are we going to travel with these scratches?" It is indeed humbling. And our appointment isn't for another couple of weeks. But we'll get a whole new bumper - again.

Oh Baby It's A New Day

*theme song to this post is from the Robby Seay Band called New Day

I guess I'm not like most moms, I don't cry when my kids go back to school. I don't wish for a longer summer. I actually get all giddy & happy when school time comes 'round. I find sanity in schedule and routine. I find sanity in a quiet house. I love cleaning when it doesn't get messed up the moment I move on to something else. Yes, this time of year holds promise and hope. And so I love it. And I don't cry, and I count down the days till it's here.

But part of my heart did rip out of my chest and travel with the kids this morning. I worried over their first day in a new school building. I'm concerned Little Miss will be scared and lonely because she doesn't know anybody in her class and she is not outgoing to say the least. And we forgot to pray together this morning.

But today's a new day. I will get back into the habit of my morning quiet times with the Lord. Of Chuck Swindol at 9:30, (making sure to avoid James Dobson at 9:00) . I sure did miss Chuck this summer! He really knows what I need to hear. Do you think that Jesus is like Chuck? I'd like to think so. The Jesus I conjure up in my head sure does need to be a lot more like Chuck.

And I love the cool temperature! I can't wait for the leaves to turn colors and to decorate with pumpkins and mums and scarecrows and drink hot apple cider! This evening is Hurricane's first flag football practice! I can't wait for football games! This is probably my favorite time year. At least at this time of year it's my favorite time year. Because I've had enough of hot weather and I need a change. Plus, my birthday is coming up and I can't wait to get presents.

It's a new day. I say, bring it on. I need a new day.