Falling vs. Failing - Day Twenty One

This morning in church, Pastor Steve asked how many people were reading 1 Corinthians 13. I didn’t even raise my hand – I just glanced at my neighbor and sighed. Then he said, “What are we – a couple of weeks into it?” Under my breath, I muttered, “Twenty one days, not that I’m counting.”

I was only muttering because his sermon today kicked me in the tail so hard I was already slouched down so far I could barely see over the pew in front of me. All I needed was a reminder of how love is….all the things I know it is.

Today was a busy one. I was in charge of the service for our ladies at church tonight – and as of about 2:30 this afternoon, I still didn’t know what I was going to say. That wasn’t a comforting thought for me!! But even as I hustled and bustled through all my analogies of plants and prayer (another blog for another day), I thought long and hard about the end of yesterday’s phrase…and about the next sentence too. “…always perseveres. Love never fails.”

Love never fails is a phrase that scares me. It is that one demand for perfection buried in the middle of a daunting list of goals.

But today those two phrases together struck me differently – and gave me some hope (which is what love is, you know) in the middle of worry that I’ll never be a woman of love. It says love never fails, not love never falls. I’m going to fall. I’m going to go to Wal-Mart and get impatient with someone on a scooter. I’m going to drive down a highway and be rude to some driver. I’m going to be selfish. It’s just going to happen sometime. I know it will. It will probably happen tomorrow, as a matter of fact.

But falling isn’t failing. Love doesn’t fail because it gets up when it falls and it tries again. And because it gets back up, it’s not a failure. And that is perseverance in action.

This sentence, “love never fails” usually concludes people’s recitation of the love chapter. It concludes the list, anyway. It’s not the end of the chapter, and I still have 8 more days of learning on this adventure.

But love never fails is such a perfect thing to end the list with, because it’s that great reminder. Love isn’t perfect at all these things all the time, but love never fails, so it gets up and tries again. It stands up, dusts itself off and resumes being patient…being kind…not envying…not boasting…not being proud….not being rude….not being self-seeking…not becoming easily angered…keeping no record of wrong…not delighting in evil…rejoicing with the truth…protecting…trusting…hoping…persevering…and then it starts over again.

A Proven Love - Day Twenty

Ten more days. Ten more days and a lot of ground to cover. I hope I make it through everything I’m supposed to learn!!

God took me back to the “always trusts” thing first thing this morning.

I was so looking forward to the prayer walk at the retreat. I went to this same retreat last year, and God met me in one of the most powerful ways of my life as I sat under a tree during the prayer walk. I was a bit dismayed this year to discover they’d constructed a climbing wall in my Jesus spot. I had to find a new bit of ground to claim for my learning area.

So I sat down near the water again – under a tree. Something had to stay consistent. Let me just explain something here. Last year, I was so overwhelmed by all that God taught me, that I ended up taking pictures of everything – the trees, the sun, the spot under the tree where I sat – all of it. I made a scrapbook page of my learning time with God. So today, when I went out in search of this year’s Jesus spot, I took my camera with me intending to document it all.

Several women sat nearby when God sent a lesson my way. The lesson included a duck swimming in the waters near the shore. One duck. He swam by, God used him, and he was gone. I wanted to take a picture but chickened out; I was afraid of what the ladies would say if they saw me taking pictures of ducks when I was supposed to be praying. So, pray I did. I prayed for God to send another duck. I would take a picture if He could just send me a duck. I waited and waited. No ducks. I began to wonder if this was just going to have to be an un-documented moment.

Then I saw him – a duck. And another – and another. Ducks everywhere. I got about five pictures! And as they swam and played, God asked again: Do you trust Me? Okay, God. If you sent a duck for a scrapbook picture, I know You can find the husband. Love always trusts. And love always comes through.

Love always hopes, always perseveres. As my thoughts leaned more in that direction, I thought about a friendship that today just seemed easier to walk away from. It was getting to be a hard one – and I was tired. I thought to myself, “Well, maybe I should just cut my losses and walk away from it.” NO!

Love always hopes. Love always perseveres. As I love others, I need to live in the hope of better times when the rocky moments come. And I need to stay with it regardless of how hard it seems to be.

Jesus always has hope in me – for my improvement. And He always perseveres in loving me even when I know I have to exhaust Him. Except that you can’t exhaust God.

How perfect that after days and days of studying about what love is NOT, I was able to study what love IS. I was able to learn it while resting and protecting myself and my love with God. I was able to gain hope of my own in learning to love…in learning to love myself, my God, and my friends.

Could not have been a more perfect end to this weekend and this sentence in 1 Corinthians 13!!

A Protected Love - Day Nineteen

What a beautiful day!! I had the privilege of taking today off work and getting away for an overnight retreat on a lake about an hour north of home. The sun shone, the sky was blue, the water lapped with perfect cool chill, and boats and jet skis sped by at a safe distance. I sat on the pier with Marie, both of us dipping our feet (well, I dipped, she splashed) in the lake water and taking in the sights and sounds of our retreat weekend.

While I sat, I thought about love. I pulled my Bible from my pink striped bag next to me to see what was next in the line of love learning. It was this sentence: Love always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

I thought back to my week of stress. At one point, I was so overwhelmed at work that I thought surely a stroke or heart attack hid in the very near future. I couldn’t breathe and the pressure of all that remained to be done seemed too much to grasp.

Love always protects. Well, it may not have anything to do with loving others, but certainly this weekend was protecting my health and sanity. I thought back to that day early on when I realized that I don’t love myself very well – that I need to work on loving myself before I can successfully love others. Perhaps this weekend is all about that love in action for myself. I needed to get away. I needed to have a day when I only had to check my voicemail or email if I wanted to. When the people who came to my office to see me would have to accept that I wasn’t there. Not this day. This day is for me.

I wrote in my journal, “It’s about You and me this weekend. I’m protecting myself by being here – away from what wears me down. I’m protecting our love by making time to rejuvenate it.

I think God appreciates it when we do that. When we protect our time with Him. When we realize the priority that this love is and we make time to focus on it and enhance it. After all, God’s love for me makes Him always protect me. Why wouldn’t it work the other way around???

Always trusts. Weekends away always make me think of the husband I don’t have yet. Especially today as I sat on the pier and watched couples stroll hand in hand down the sidewalk – or unload their car for a weekend getaway – or speed by in a boat – or take a swim off the pier. I found myself digging around in my Bible for some of those promises I’ve marked as assurances from God that love will eventually make its way to me.

Do you trust me? I could hear it as sure as I could hear the soft waves hitting the bottom of the pier. Good question, God. Do I trust You? Do I trust this love to do everything You’ve said it will do? I want to say yes, but I’m scared that my heart doesn’t really believe the yes. Love always trusts, though. Love always trusts God to take care of me – because He always has, you know.

I couldn’t even move on. It was enough. But I know this weekend – and whatever it holds in store – is going to be the weekend of learning about this whole sentence.

Friday Favorite #5

Deb, I promise I'm not stealing this one from you. It just occurred to me how much I love it after I used it this morning!! :) The Mr. Clean Magic Eraser. That is the best invention EVER. I was in a hurry to clean my bathrooms. My downstairs tub was I think the first tub ever made. It's porcelain, I think - and there aren't any ridges, but it is the most stubborn thing to clean!!

My upstairs shower has tons of tiny ridges in the bottom - you know, the slip proof business? Well until Mr. Clean made an eraser, they were also clean proof!! But that thing gets both of them clean in a hurry. No more getting high on cleaner and ruining nails while trying to get those stupid things clean so that I can get clean!

In other news, not related to the favorite, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MOM!!! Today is her big 7-0. I took her out to breakfast and gave her presents, including yet another set of framed pictures of the cats. I'm sure she was thrilled at that. They even "signed" the card with their paw prints. I now have one blue and one red print trailed on the floor. But it was worth it. :)

Maybe THAT'S What it Means - Day Eighteen

I have confessions to make. The first is that today was busy beyond busy. It was almost four in the afternoon before the words “First Corinthians Thirteen” even entered my head. It was then that I realized I’d not really messed up and been super unloving, but neither had I rushed out of my way to drizzle love over everyone around me. I was simply on autopilot, trying to have time to breathe my way through the day. And it wasn’t going well.

The second confession is that today’s verse confuses me. Today it’s time for verse six – “Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.” I think it confuses me because I don’t consider truth and evil to be opposites. But the way that sentence reads, it makes them opposites.

I suppose to have thought about that perplexity earlier in the day wouldn’t have done me any good because I didn’t have time to decipher it. So I’ll throw out my thoughts on the subject.

Love does not delight in evil…

Evil. Bad. Negative. When I’m living in love, I won’t be thrilled about the bad things. That means I won’t secretly do a happy dance when someone gets what they’ve got coming to them. That means I won’t be a supporter of people who are out to mess up life for everyone else. That means I won’t be giddy when someone takes a hit in life – no matter how much I may want to dislike him or her.

I think it also means I won’t seek out a bad lifestyle. I won’t want to be drawn to the things that drag me or others down. I will want positive over negative.

And speaking of that – love rejoices in the truth. I’ve been learning a lot about the word “truth” lately. I’ve been reading Elizabeth George’s book Loving God with All your Mind, and I’ve also been reading Gracia Burnham’s book, To Fly Again. Both have addressed the subject of truth. Clinging to what we know to be true. Believing the truth. Truth in these books is presented as something rock-solid. Good. Right.

And that is what I’m supposed to rejoice in. I’m to live joyfully in all things God – all things true. And even if my world is filled with evil, God prevails with truth. And in that, I should rejoice.

I guess maybe they are opposites. Satan represents all things evil, and God represents all things true. So I don’t have anything to do with the evil and I have everything to do with the truth.

Thanks for letting me think it out loud. I think it makes sense now.

Another Key for the Ring - Day Seventeen

One step further today. Yesterday – love is not easily angered. Today – love keeps no record of wrong. Oh boy.

The two go hand in hand, actually. People like me who blow up at the slightest issue tend to be really great at keeping track of exactly how many times that’s happened, too. It’s one thing to feel angry and learn to curb it if it’s not a necessary time. It’s an even greater thing to be able to put it all aside. To toss the memory as far away as possible and never return to it again. Never hold onto it for ammunition. Never keep it around for leverage. Dispose of it. Fully.

This is a tough one for me because I’m a competitor. I like being in the lead. And sometimes I’m willing to do whatever it takes to retain the lead. If it means I have to pull out all the stops and remind others of what they’ve done in the past to now land them in spots behind me, I’ll do it. Yuck. That’s not a good quality to have.

I’m trying really hard to view this experiment in learning to love as it applies to my daily life. How it affects the way I view my co-workers, my friends, my family, the students I work with, and the general public – even the Wal-Mart general public. But I have to admit that this time, I’m viewing it from the way I behaved with my ex-boyfriend. I was the classic keeper of the books for the two of us, and looking back on that now, I feel absolutely terrible about it.

I love to journal – and I love the record it keeps of my life. I love being able to look back and see what happened – when it happened – and relive all those memories. But for me, the bad thing is that reading a 2 sentence paragraph can bring back an entire situation in vivid color and sound. So if I keep a record of the wrongs done to me, all I have to do is read my journal notes, and all those emotions flood back my way.

I’ve been blessed with a good memory for detail like that. I can’t remember important things to save my life, but with stories along the way, I have a great memory. And I doube I’ll ever be able to change that about myself, short of getting some sort of memory loss disorder. So there may not be a way for me to forget the wrongs.

But there is a way for me to throw those thoughts as far from me as I can when they pop up in my brain. I can choose to not use them against others as I tended to do back in the day with my relationship.

Maybe there’s a key word in this one too. Maybe the key is keep. Maybe the record of wrongs exists because it’s impossible to forget it. But I don’t have to keep it. I can choose to toss it.

A Key Word - Day Sixteen

The first day of the semester is such a perfect time to institute “love is not easily angered.” A day filled with constant interruptions and endless questions and little patience from the other side of the counter makes for an interesting lab experiment in loving constantly.

Amazingly, the day went well. After work, I took a trip to Wal-Mart. I figured that would be the true test of “love is not easily angered.” With all the students back in town, it was definitely a carnival of high pitched screams and carts piled with Ramen noodles, school supplies, and all the dorm room essentials forgotten before. But I managed to maneuver my way around everyone and left without being any worse for the wear.

But alas, God did not allow the day to pass without a test.

I came home and clicked “connect” on my computer to log on and post about the day’s experiences. After a moment of trying, the phrase “unable to establish connection” appeared. WHAT?? “BRAEYA JO!!!” I yelled. She must have ripped the cord out of the wall as she went rip-tearing through the house chasing after her brother. She gave me her most innocent look, but I just rolled my eyes.

I checked the connection. It appeared to be fine. “Braeya, did you rip it out of the hard drive? How’d you do that?” I went back to the computer and lugged the hard drive out of the cabinet. The cord was firmly connected in the back. (Although I did manage to disconnect some random – yet important – piece of something else in the process.)

Teeth were now gritting and mumbling had begun. I tried again. Nothing. I shut down the computer and restarted it. Nothing. ICK. Finally, in desperation, I tried calling tech support. I received the lovely recording from the woman who probably works a second job at a 900 number telling me in the most soothing possible manner that she would love to help me if I would simply enter my phone number and listen as she gave me options. At last I reached the part for troubleshooting. She said in her low, even, fake tone, “Before I begin, please know that there is a service announcement in effect for your area. If you do not wish to hear this message, simply say ‘stop.’”

A man’s voice piped up – this man clearly had not attended the same school of soothing instruction that the woman did. In a gruff, 90 mile an hour voice, he announced “There-has-been-a-problem-reported-in-your-area.-We-are-aware-of-the-problem-and-are-working-to-fix-it.-We-apologize-for-any-inconvenience-and-will-work-to-restore-the-issue-by-midnight.”

I pounded the off button on the phone and yelled, “MIDNIGHT!!! I DON’T HAVE TIME TO WAIT UNTIL MIDNIGHT! I HAVE TO BLOG ABOUT LOVE IS NOT EASILY ANGERED!!”

Oh. Oops.

I gave up at last and went to bed. As I stretched out, one word in that phrase became glaringly obvious. Easily. Love is not easily angered. There are times when anger is warranted. People get angry with other people – and that’s okay. But love is not easily angered. Love doesn’t get upset about every little thing. Love doesn’t get mad over the petty things. Love doesn’t go from calm to furious in 1.5 seconds. Love is cautious about anger. Reserves it for the proper, warranted occasions. Times when injustice has really reached its peak.

My job, I think, is going to be working on finding that line. Finding the times when anger is justified. When anger is used appropriately. But at the same time, I need to recognize the times I do not need to blow up in a tirade.

Easily. It’s my key word.

Love in Action - Day Fifteen

I'm halfway through the project. I have as many days behind me as I have ahead of me. Seems like a good time to sit back and take stock of how I'm doing.

While I'm writing this, I'm watching a double feature of the Duggar family on TLC. You know - the family with all the kids? It's amazing to me to watch Mrs. Duggar graciously live a life of love. I think she's got this chapter down pat. In a family that size, there's no room for the rudeness, envy, anger, and selfishness to get out of control. It would be chaos!!!

But it does make me think. If she can be loving with all those kids underfoot, surely I can be loving with only two cats underfoot! It's all about adopting a lifestyle. A heartstyle. And she's done it. She's contagious. Contagious with love.

Looking back over the first not-even-half of this chapter, I see how these words are slowly working in my heart. The people in my office may tell you otherwise (and they have the right), but I see progress. If nothing else, I catch myself mentally focusing on love as I talk...as I act...as I plan. I've clapped my hand over my mouth immediately after saying something - because I've recognized it as unloving. My goal is to eventually clap my mind over the thought before it comes out of my mouth - but for now, this is progress. I've prayed about people that are challenging for me to love - and I feel a (small) softening in my heart when their names come to mind.

It's as though these days have given me "love antennas" and I can tell they're working. I've not perfected it, of course. I'm not where I hope to be. But I'm a lot farther along than I was before. And for that, I'm very grateful.

Tonight I kind of skipped ahead in my reading just to see what sorts of projects await me in the second fifteen days of this project. I can see more work ahead. But I'm excited - because I love the changes I feel in my heart. I hope they're showing in my actions, too. That part I can't judge - I'll have to wait for others to tell me.

At least I'm no longer saying "It's about to kill me!"

Awakened with a Sermon - Day Fourteen

Love is not self-seeking. And God reminded me of it about the fifth snooze this morning. It’s a Sunday, and though I’m principally opposed to skipping Sunday School, it was very tempting today. I thought about how nice it would be to snuggle down for another hour. Catch up on some more sleep. Take a vacation day. Relax. Treat myself.

And then into my head it popped – love is not self seeking. Okay, I get it. It’s not about me. It’s a Sunday morning, so time to get up and get to church! Good thing I went too. We are still studying the Sermon on the Mount – and today we studied the section about letting your yes be yes and your no be no – and we talked all about being people of our word. I guess since I’m always telling people they need to suck it up and get to church no matter how tired they are, it’s a good thing I practiced my own preaching!

After church, I tried to get out the back door. There were a couple of people that I wanted to avoid – the kind that never let you get away without a ton of stories? But at the last minute, I chose to walk out the front with my friends, and in the process, was stopped by one of the very ones I had hoped to miss. The whole time he talked to me, Faith stood behind him with a grimace on her face – walking the fine line of staying beside me to support me and wanting to run. I finally waved her on. God was dousing me with “love is not self-seeking.” I got myself into this mess- it wasn’t her job to stay around and bail me out of it. So I refocused, tried to offer a genuine smile, and continued listening as politely as I could until he was done talking.

And then there was the afternoon. I was on a mission. Specific tasks to be accomplished. Much to pack into a very short weekend. My scrapbooking project was scattered all about the living room and writing awaited me just steps away in the office.

The doorbell rang. The neighbor stopped by. Haven’t seen him in months – and it was so good to see him then. So nice of him to stop by. In fact, all the while he caught me up on the land of driver’s ed and show choir and summer vacation, I remembered that I should really make more of an effort to reach out to my neighbors. I’m just still not good at that. Sigh. Love is not self-seeking. Put away the scrapping, Bekah. Don’t worry about the writing. Just get out and love people!!

This “not self-seeking” part concludes the is nots sentence. Love does not envy…it does not boast…it is not rude…it is not self-seeking. As I’ve worked on these things this week, it’s surprised me how often the remedy for these problems is patience and kindness. I never paid attention to the order before. But love is patient and kind first. Once you learn those two things, you can use them to avoid envy…and boasting…and rudeness…and self-centeredness. It really does all work together.

Sunday, September 3, 2006

Last Friday, I walked past all the dads in plaid carrying in mountains of clothing or computer pieces or boxes of who knows what that their kids insisted on dragging to school. Boy do I remember those days. (Yes, Mom and Dad, I can hear you. You remember those days too.) Up three flights of stairs we went, time and time again, carrying in my – what, 3?...4?...carloads of stuff? Hey, I needed it!

That was ten years ago now. Ten years since I left for college. Crazy. So I got this weird idea to look back and see what I was doing every year on September 3rd for the last ten years. Just to see how life has changed. Or not. So after consulting the trusty journals, here’s what I came up with.

1996. The new beginning year. September 3rd ten years ago today was my very first day of college class. I didn’t write this part, but I even remember what I wore – a denim dress and white sandals. My first writing class – Advanced Writing with Dr. Allison – followed by good old Psychology with Dr. Puffer. Oh, and let us not forget the night class – Fine Arts with Mrs. Williams. I already knew after the first class that 3 hours and my attention span wouldn’t mix. I wrote, “If I could stay in focus, it could be a fun class.” And of course I celebrated the completion of my first day of class with dinner at Burger King. Some things never change.
1997. The overwhelming year. September 3rd was the second day of class for my sophomore year. It was my first visit to Dr. Buck’s Novel class, which I labeled “tons of work,” Dr. Brown’s Nonfiction class, which I labeled “pretty good,” and Prof. Owen’s Spanish class, which I labeled “HARD!!” – followed by a desperate plea for my high school Spanish teacher to convert to the college level. The other excitement of the day was a trip to Marsh for groceries, the mass of homework, and the engagement announcement of a co-worker.
1998. The over-caffeinated year. September 3rd was a rare day when I did not write. According to what I wrote on the fourth, I had a sick headache all day on the third because I drank so much caffeine on the second that I didn’t sleep that night. Did you catch all that? Apparently I was so sick that I actually resorted to going home to Mom and Dad’s to get some rest. (Rest does not happen in college apartments when roommates are getting reacquainted after a whole summer apart.) I slept from 7:30 at night until 8:30 in the morning. Better take it easy on that Mountain Dew, girl!
1999. The devastating year. September 3rd was the first time I finally admitted on paper that my boyfriend was over me. I finally had to admit that the relationship I’d written in my mind to last forever was in fact, in its final stages. Wow, that was a hard one. I wrote about it for three pages. I will spare you the details – but it was the beginning of a tough month. (Oh, and I overslept that day too. I didn’t get to work until 8:21. But that’s pretty good for waking up at 8:06!)
2000. The disheartening year. September 3rd was not my friend this time. I had to admit to myself that one of my “loves” from days gone by was falling in love with someone I didn’t want him to even associate with. That just led to an entire day of pity partying – trying to figure out where I fit in life, since he was making it clear it wasn’t with him!
2001. The twitterpated year. September 3rd was a reliving of junior high behavior. One of my crushes (who shall remain nameless because it’s just too embarrassing) walked past my office twice that day. I spent most of the day analyzing why he did that – and how it fit into the grand scheme of the two of us together. Given that he now lives halfway across the country, I’m going to guess I was off somehow on my speculation.
2002. The sick year. September 3rd this year was a vacation day for me. Not sure why I was allowed to take off work during the first day of class, but they let me out! I had my first ever massage – which was amazing – and then I spent the rest of the day sick, sick, sick with a nasty stomach attack. I cried and cried, apparently. Let’s not relive that one.
2003. The boy boy boy year. September 3rd was worse than any junior high year – or perhaps all of them combined. I ran into one potential crush at Handy Andy before work – and I was so unnerved, I could barely get my coffee. Then another one showed up in the office – unnerving me further until I could barely work. And I got a call from another one that night – leaving me a complete mess in the head.
2004. The OH BOY! year. September 3rd was a GREAT day. In fact, the journal starts out this way: “:) Need I say more?” I’ll spare you the details, but I had a very nice visit from the once-upon-a-time “dream guy” of my whole life. It was a very very nice evening. I’m voting for more days like that one!!
2005. The year of rest. September 3rd fell on a Saturday – and what a perfect Saturday it was. My friend Faith came over and we scrapped all day long. I watched two movies after she left – followed by a coffee outing with Marie. I even treated myself to a new Gaither DVD – one that featured a song by who else but Ronnie Booth. J What a perfect day!

So here I am today – ten years later. Today has been a beautiful day full of more time with friends, more scrapping, more writing, a Little House marathon (they’re about to blow up the town here in an hour or so), and all sorts of fun. It has been a crazy ten years – the years of work, the years of disappointment, the years of unabashed stupidity, and now, the years of rest (a.k.a. boredom to some of you). But the years have been good in the long run – and while I wouldn’t want to relive a lot of them, I can’t wish them to be any different. They made me who I am today – ten years later.

Rude-Be-Gone - Day Thirteen

I thought I’d spend today thinking about pride again. Yesterday was a bustle of activity from morning until night, and although I tried to devote every spare thought to my 30 day project, I just didn’t have that many spare thoughts. By the time I had time for spare, I had no energy left to think!

But again – God had other plans. Even before I’d hit snooze the fourth time this morning, God was pointing out the phrase “love is not rude.” I was only thinking!! But apparently my thoughts were already headed down the path of rudeness – and I’d not even made my way out of bed yet.

And from there, I knew today was going to be a much bigger learning day than I wanted to think about on my day off.

I went shopping with Marie, and before we’d even made it to our destination, I’d glared at more than one driver and even called someone a dirtbag. And with every glare and every muttered word, God just kept tapping me and reminding me that love is not rude. Not to mention His reminders that I wasn’t in the driver’s seat – so it didn’t matter what I thought. It wasn’t my problem.

Then I got the lesson of the day. Marie and I stopped at a bookstore because I needed a new day planner. Of course I am incapable of stopping at just a day planner whenever I’m surrounded by books, so I was camped out on the floor next to the $4.97 shelf, when I realized I’d not seen Marie in a while. I got up and wandered around until I found her talking to a woman parked in the easy chair reading a book about divorce. They were deep in conversation and I just jumped in. I had no idea that God was about to use this conversation to teach me so much about love in action.

The woman talked…and talked…and talked. I was getting hungry, and I knew Marie needed to get home soon. I shifted from one foot to the other, wondering when the woman would stop developing “one more thing” to add to her story. And all the while, God ran the entire chapter of 1 Corinthians 13 through my head, with it is not rude emphasized. I smiled (with effort) and mentally re-entered the conversation.

Repeat the scenario about five times.

It’s hard to be loving and kind when you so desperately want to end a conversation that is clearly going nowhere!

When I came home, I had to mow. I haven’t mowed in two weeks. Today it was more like a hayfield out there, so I had a lot of quality time between mowing and raking. And the whole time I was out there, God stayed on me about being loving – and about not being rude. He reminded me that if I’m serious about this business of writing and working with people, I’m going to run into the exasperating type all the time –and my job is to be kind – and to not be rude.

He reminded me that at times, it’s not going to be convenient to sit and listen. At times, people are going to be annoying. At times, people are going to be wishy-washy in what they say. But still, I get to love them.

When Marie and I talked to this lady about divorce, she explained that a friend of hers had tried and tried – for over twenty years – to be the husband he should be. But his wife didn’t want to try. He was tired – and ready to give up. And she thought he should be allowed that much – as a reward for trying so hard for so long.

How thankful should we be, Marie pointed out, that God doesn’t operate that way with us? When we don’t give things full effort…when we don’t hold up our end of the bargain…God keeps right on being God. He doesn’t say, “Well, you’ve reached your limit. You’ve worn me out. It’s over. I quit.”

And as I raked, God reminded me that He hasn’t given up on me yet. That this project warms His heart – because it proves that I’m serious about learning – about improving. And I am so thankful that He has not given up on me. That He is willing to work with me day by day – to teach me.

Just last night, I gave my devotions the short end of my attention span because I was tired. And yet I was thankful that God made time in His schedule today to meet with me while I raked – it was rude of me to cut Him off last night – but He showed me today how love really works – by not paying me back as I deserved.

Pride vs. Pride - Day Twelve

And on the twelfth day of the Great Love Assignment, the good Lord taught me…that pride comes in various forms.

Yesterday, when I finished typing, I noticed that I said “I have a bit of smug pride that wells up…” and then I realized that today’s chunk of verse is about pride. Love is not proud.

It’s been a hard week to be proud – and in that way, my pride has taken a beating. The things I usually take pride in have fallen to the wayside, and because of that, my ego remains a bit bruised. Perhaps God had a hand in bringing those things to a halt – even if only temporarily – to get me to realize the problem that they are.

Take my yard for example. I live in a neighborhood where yard work does not top the lists of things to do for most of my neighbors. As a result, my yard is typically the shortest. I’m happiest when you can see the lines from the fresh mowing job. As soon as they begin to fade – it’s time to mow. Last week, it was so dry, the grass didn’t grow, so I didn’t mow. This week it hasn’t stopped raining, so I haven’t been able to mow. And my pride suffers a beating every time I pull up to the house and see the weeds sprouting next to the foundation and the blatant absence of mower lines. I want to post a note of apology for the condition of the yard. And it’s all just because my pride doesn’t like it.

But then that tells me that I am a little too smug about the looks of the grass. In truth, when I mow, I love to sit back and survey how much shorter my yard is than the neighbors’ – and I think, “Man, this looks good. Look at how hard I’ve worked – compared to these other people who don’t make the time." Bad Bekah.

And then there’s the inside of the house. I love for everything to be in its designated place. But a small bout of sickness and large bouts of work have brought my housecleaning to a screeching halt. I’m desperately hoping no one drops by, because I don’t want to have to explain the pile of papers on the end of the dining room table, or the string of lights still unattached to the ficus tree, or the refrigerator that needs not just a once-over, but a quadruple-over!

All of that – just because I’m too proud to admit that I’ve packed my schedule too full and I don’t have time to take care of the basics. Too proud to admit that I’m tired when I come home from work and sneak in a nap instead of doing housework.

What does any of this have to do with love?

Well, my brain is so jumbled right now from the day that all I can think of are examples about my house and yard, but I know that if I’m too proud about what I have and what I do – I start comparing myself to others – and that just drags them down in my mind. And how can I love them if I’m dragging them down? And if I let my pride over those things stand in my way, I’m going to be too stubborn to love – or to allow myself to be loved. And what good does that do?

So it’s the battle of the prides. Either one will keep me from loving to my fullest potential. And maybe that is why God has allowed this to be a rainy, busy, sickness filled week – because now I’m able to see where I need to work!

Friday Favorite #4

Tonight was grocery shopping night. I try to only go shopping for food once a month. For one thing, I don't have time to shop every week. For another, it's kind of an adventure to see how long I can make the whole "budgeting food" adventure last. :)

But one thing that I like to do every time I go shopping is to buy one little treat. I have (I've been told) a ridiculously low grocery budget, so there aren't many times when splurging is an option.

But tonight there were a couple of extra bucks left according to the calculator, so I got extra ice cream. A gallon of ice cream is required as a staple to get me through any given month. But tonight I got extra. A box of drumsticks. And don't you know - I had one the very minute the trunk was unloaded and the cold stuff was put away.

I'm not sure what my favorite part is - it's a toss up between the little core of caramel hidden in the middle and that big chunk of chcocolate that parks in the bottom of the cone to keep it from leaking. Oh man, that was a good drumstick. I think there are only five more. I'll have to try to pace myself in the days to come. But rest assured, they'll be gone before the next Friday favorite hits!!

It's All in the Heart - Day Eleven

In between work crises and bill paying and never ending phone calls today, I’ve been pondering the thought of “love does not boast.” I did some serious heart searching. If I were to describe my problem areas in this love chapter, boasting isn’t one of them. But then, in my ever-paranoid nature, I wonder if saying that I don’t struggle with boasting is boasting.

When I think of people who boast, I think of those who loudly brag. I’m loud. I’ll admit that. But I really try hard not to brag. All day long, I thought hard, trying to imagine any angle that might make me a boastful person – because I didn’t want to leave this phrase and miss out on something that God really wanted me to catch.

Finally, this evening as I went through the checkbook AGAIN to try to find where I’d subtracted wrong, it came to me.

In our Sunday School class, we’re studying the Sermon on the Mount. And right now, we’re in the middle of all those sections about how it doesn’t matter if you haven’t actually murdered someone – if you were angry in your heart, it’s the same as if you murdered. Or it doesn’t matter if you didn’t actually commit adultery – if you looked at someone lustfully, you might as well have done the deed. For several Sundays, we’ve munched on donuts in the youth room and tried to get to the bottom of what God really evaluates.

Tonight all of that came together for me as I thought about boasting. It may not matter that I’m not an out loud boaster. It may not matter that I don’t brag about my house or my car or my job or my degree or my paycheck or my looks or my writing or my scrapbooks or my cooking (and believe me, not all of those things merit bragging!!). So what if people can’t hear a boast? If I’m boasting in my heart, isn’t it the same as if I did it out loud? And God has the ability to see the motive in my heart.

Oh boy.

I don’t like admitting to you that there are times when I really do boast in my heart. There are times when I compare myself to someone and I have a bit of smug pride that wells up as I declare to myself that I’m better. Look at what I did compared to what she did. Mine is so much better. Hee hee hee.

But it’s not funny. It’s rather humiliating actually. That ugly little monster was hiding where I didn’t even see him. I may not verbalize it, but I sure do need to work on not even thinking it.

I wouldn’t say it’s my biggest downfall. There are certainly other things in this chapter that are higher on the WORK ON THIS list. But this is there. And it needs to be addressed when I see it creeping up.

My Own Meaning - Day Ten

Love does not envy. When I think of envy, I think of a consuming desire to have what someone else has. And aside from the occasional wish to have a newer car – primarily an SUV with a sunroof – I don’t really struggle much with envy. The whole devilish “green with envy” thing isn’t much a part of my life.

But I decided to stick with the thought, because I figured God had something in there just for me. Something I needed to learn.

I turned my thoughts more toward jealousy. In some ways, the word doesn’t seem much different from envy, but for me, jealousy conjures up more of a possessive thought. I’m very jealous of people’s time – I want them to spend time with me and not others. In fact, one of the hardest adjustments I have when my friends get married and have kids is learning to share them with their husbands and children. I still want my time with them. I get jealous at work when I perceive that someone else is more liked than I am. Boy, now I’m starting to sound like a little rat!

But when I looked that word up, that’s exactly what I found. Not a little rat. But the possession factor: “a state of fear, suspicion or envy caused by a real or imagined threat or challenge to one’s possessive instincts. It may be provoked by rivalry…a zealous desire to preserve an existing situation or relationship.” Yep that’s me. Might as well have my picture plastered next to it.

And therein, I discovered, lies my own personal lesson on the love chapter. I’ve noticed lately – not proud about it, but it's true – how fearful I am in loving others. I hate rejection (who really likes it?) and I really am fearful always of people leaving. And not being a fan of change, every time a relationship does take a turn of some sort, I absolutely cringe, imagining – knowing – that it’s over. That I wasn’t enough to keep that person around.

I’m red in the face even admitting how many two year olds I’ve been jealous of, because I felt like I needed to compete with them for the attention of their moms who were MY FRIENDS FIRST. There has to be therapy for this sort of thing.

I can see how the jealousy issue can ruin friendships and cause them to be anti-loving. Where love should be is suspicion and speculation and contemplation and analyzing and worrying and fear. Which brings me to the verse God reminded me of this afternoon: “There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love.” (1 John 4:18)

For me, anyway, a jealousy-free love of my friends is a fear-free love. If I loved without envy (jealousy), I would love freely. I would love with much more abandon and much more joy. I would have more time to devote to drinking in the beauty of my friendships if I weren’t so busy calculating moves and motives that probably don’t even exist.

So I don't know if any of this was the actual reason that little phrase exists in the Bible. But for me, today, it's what it has meant.

An A-Ha! Moment - Day Nine

I received a comment on yesterday's post about giving myself credit for taking on this project...positive reinforcement. A very appropriate comment, I think, because last night after I went to bed, I thought back over the past 8 days of this experiment and realized all I'd talked about was how hard it was and how much I fell short of the goal.

So this morning, as I considered the next part of the chapter - love does not envy - I found myself drawn back into the patience and kindness couplet again. Perhaps it would not kill me to extend this chapter toward myself. I'm not sure how that works out when I get to the part about "love is not self seeking" - but I'll worry about that later.

In truth, the verse in Matthew that says "...and love your neighbor as yourself" has always bothered me. I hope it's not too disrespectful to say that about Scripture. Because the truth of the matter is, I treat my neighbors a whole lot better than I treat myself. The positive self-esteem line of thinking has never been my forte, and because of that, I constantly set very high expectations for myself and do not show myself any mercy when I fail to achieve what I think I should. I've gotten into trouble for that on more than one occasion with my friends who hate it when I cut myself down. I don't do it intentionally - I don't do it to get compliments in the other direction - I do it because...I just do. I just always have.

Perhaps this is part of the Great Love Assignment. Perhaps part of it is about learning to love myself and learning to be kind to myself and learning to allow myself more than 30 days to transform from the Witch of Wal Mart into a loving person.

Jaena, I'm sorry I didn't have time to put the way-to-go-post-its into practice today. I needed the Post Its for notes on my files! :) But I appreciate you calling me on that because I needed to hear it. This is a big task, and I have done some things right. Perhaps I'd be more spurred on to keep sticking with it (although sheer principle will keep me on the path because I'm just that stubborn) if I were more congratulatory about my accomplishments.

Having said that, I will reserve further thought and comment on "love does not envy" for tomorrow. It works out better anyway, because I'm still thinking. :)

Post It Notes Called to Active Duty - Day Eight

Like I said yesterday, I knew this day - this week - was going to be one test after another in the love factor. And starting about 8:13 this morning, the phone started ringing - and it never stopped. The piles o files grew - and no matter how quickly I weeded them out, two seemed to replace every one. It's the week that happens every year - and every year I know it's coming - and every year it surprises me with its craziness and wears me out despite my preparation.

Today my goal was to once again work on "love is patient, love is kind" - the couple. I had grand plans of waltzing into my office and writing out the definition of kind on a post it note and smacking it to my monitor and throughout the day, gushing love to all who encountered me. Unfortunately a downpour on my way into work ended any intentions of waltzing...I rather slopped into work. And there was no time for post it note defining. There was only time for phone call after phone call.

And then about mid-morning, I had a phone call that ended up more like a "Who's on first" conversation than anything else. The sweet (I'm sure) man and I never connected in the same line of thought. At times, I wondered if we were even speaking the same language. Not to mention that I rarely got to complete a sentence before he launched into his next set of words. In frustration, I grabbed the nearest stack of Post It Notes and began writing, "love is patient...love is kind...love is patient...love is kind...love is patient...love is kind." So I guess the Post Its got some work after all.

I'm learning this is going to be much more than a 30 day adventure in my life. I'm apparently the world's slowest learner. It's hard to keep it all straight and today I didn't always remember to do well. But this is always a good reason to try harder tomorrow.

Speaking of tomorrow - Love does not envy. I wonder what sort of hands-on training I'll get in that department?

Hand in Hand - Day Seven

Today was my day to practice kindness. You know - 1 Corinthians 13:4b? Love is kind?

I figured I would get my workout at church - being a greeter and trying to keep up the energy pace during our special kids' service. Or maybe tonight during the double baby shower after our evening service.

But here I sit...and I didn't greet. The team was well-staffed without me. I sat in the back pew during the special service and had zero energy for anything more than doling out Cheerios to Hannah. And I spent most of the baby shower rocking Liam to sleep - so I came home for my annual date with the Emmys feeling very much like a failure as a kind person. Mostly because I hadn't had - or hadn't sought - opportunities to try.

I thought of people I spoke with - and I was too short with them. I thought of people I passed by without even speaking. And in those moments, I wasn't kind. In truth, perhaps my only times to take advantage of the chance to be kind were the moments when I held a cup of Cheerios for a one year old so she could stick her face down in there and come out plastered with O's, and when I held a bottle for a chubby three-month-old before slowly rocking him to sleep.

But here are a couple of things I've learned today about love being kind. First, I noticed that in this verse, "Love is patient, love is kind" is a sentence all by itself. Those two things go hand in hand. When I'm patient, I'm showing kindness. And when I'm kind, I'll be patient. They're a pair.

Just for kicks, I looked up the word "kind" - and I got this. Sympathetic, helpful, friendly, thoughtful, gentle, pleasant, beneficial in action. And to that, I say, "gulp." Those things are not always my first reactions in dealing with others. Sometimes, yes. It depends on the person. Some people make it easy to be all those things. Some don't. But my job is to be patient...to be kind...no matter what's coming at me.

Thinking ahead to this week, I believe those two words are going to be my theme. Work is going to be full of opportunities to be patient, sympathetic, helpful, friendly, thoughtful, gentle, and pleasant. And just as those two things go hand in hand, they must also go hand in hand with me.

It could be a very long week. But if I work hard - it could also be a very good one!

Sunday, August 27, 2006

Last Sunday, my pastor issued a challenge to everyone in our congregation. The challenge was to read 1 Corinthians 13 every day for a month and see how it changed our lives. I, being a lover of such challenges, accepted what he offered.

It’s about to kill me.

I do have to say, though, that I am learning much more from this chapter than I thought possible. It’s such an often-read, often-written-about, often-preached-on topic that I thought surely everything that could be squeezed from its contents…had been. But apparently that is not the case – at least in my mind. I’m learning all sorts of new things. I had planned to write about that today, but it turns out that I took up writing a mini-column every day on my blog about what I’m learning, so to use this space for that would interrupt my flow. So I guess if you want to know the ways in which I’m learning about love, you can read all about them on the blog.

Meanwhile…I had my first request. I feel like such a DJ. I got an email this week from one of you, wanting to know more about this forty chapter writing project that I’ve been working on. It all interconnects so much that it’s hard to pull out one chapter by itself and have it make any sense without a ton of background, but given that I had my first ever request, I had to find something to make it work. So, for you, Cheryl B., here is a portion of one chapter – the bulk of it. I just deleted the parts that connect it to the chapters before and after. Enjoy!

One of my childhood pastors, Fred Littlefield, once preached about the importance of Scripture memorization. He said that when we put Scripture into our memory bank, God will pull it out at just the right time. I’ve learned the truth in that statement – and beyond it, I’ve also learned that in the spirit of Romans 8:28, God will also work to bring together truths we’ve learned from various sources – if we’re willing to take the time to learn them.

As I sat in the prayer chapel for week number three, God reminded me of that as He brought to my mind sections of truths I’d learned here and there over the past weeks – months. Amazing how something I’d read or heard or experienced at so many different stopping points could suddenly all lump together and make sense.

It began with my ring. I sat in the chapel waiting on my first lesson of the day, and in my fidgety nature, I began twisting the ruby ring on my left hand ring finger. Not until later that night, after consulting my journal, did I realize that this particular day was my 100th day of wearing that ring. God knows how much I love anniversaries like that, and I appreciated His tying in a lesson about the ring on such an important day for it.

At the beginning of this year, I began studying Elizabeth George’s book, Beautiful in God’s Eyes. I mentor a friend from church and together, Olivia and I had been delving into Elizabeth’s findings on the Proverbs 31 Woman. I wanted Olivia to know how to better grow into such a woman, as she was already doing, and I wanted to make sure I got on track in being that woman, as I wanted to become a blessing for my someday husband – not a pain in his neck.

The second chapter of the book focused on Proverbs 31:10, which says, “Her worth is far above rubies.” Elizabeth said “The rich red ruby is truly a unique gem, and because of their rarity, large rubies even surpass diamonds of equal weight in value!” I had no idea! I always credited diamonds with being the gem of choice in value. That day, as I read that chapter, I decided to find a ruby ring and wear it on my ring finger until the day my husband proposes to me – as a reminder to me that I have value in God’s eyes – and as a reminder to work hard every day to become a woman of even greater value for my currently elusive husband.

Because I read that chapter in January, my friend, Kari, suggested that I watch for Valentines Day jewelry sales in the weeks to come, and I might find a ruby ring in my price range (which wasn’t very high). I thought it was an excellent and easy idea, so I kept my eyes on the newspaper flyers…and came up empty. Apparently at least in my area of the world, ruby rings never go on sale. Necklaces, earrings, bracelets – all of that gets the markdown, but not rings. At least not ones that would look good on me.

And then – two weeks before Valentines Day – one jewelry store nearby ran an advertisement for a ruby ring – small and classy – right at the top of my price range. There would be an extra charge for sizing if necessary. I took one look at my chubby ring finger and rolled my eyes. I wondered what “extra charge” translated to in dollars. Nevertheless, I made my way to the store with coupon in hand, on the appointed day of the sale and asked to see the ring. The lady pulled it out of the case and slipped it on my finger. A perfect fit. I wrote the check and walked out with my new ring proudly displayed.

Later that day, God pointed out to me that He can ordain even ruby rings. A perfect fit of the perfectly priced ring. And then He pointed out that my ring is comprised of three hearts – two on their sides pointing into the large one in the middle. The symbol of a marriage – two hearts in love with God at the center.

One hundred days later, I sat in the chapel, twisting the ring on my finger, remembering a day in February when I made a vow to become worth more than the rarest gem in honor of the husband I haven’t met.

Love is Patient. Bekah is Not - Day Six

I knew today was going to be a doozy. I thought that maybe - just maybe - since the focus on patience day came on a Saturday, it wouldn't be so bad. I was wrong.

As you may know (from last week's column), sleeping in is my number one priority on a Saturday. If you have kids, you probably want to hit me right now and make some remark about how that will be a thing of the past once I have kids. I know. I've heard. (and heard...and heard...and heard.) But the thing is - I don't have kids right now. So I sleep. And sleep. And sleep.

This morning I was just thinking of stirring - not quite yet to the eye opening part of stirring, but awake - when I got a text message. Was I up? Uh...no, but sorta. Angela wanted to stop by and use my sewing machine. I told her that would be fine and was about to tell her that she'd be greeted by my bedhead when she got here, but just then the phone rang. It was Amber. Would my house be available later if she needed to stop by for a couple of minutes with her kids? Sure!!

So that meant I was up. Up and taking a shower - and making the bed - and cleaning out the litter box. For a few short minutes, I grumbled under my breath. It's Saturday. It's not even 11. It's my day to sleep. No one should be up at this time.

Love is patient.

Gulp. Yes it is. Okay. Refocusing. So then came the bout with the sewing machine. I only sew about twice a year, so each time, I have to get out the instructions to see how to wind the bobbin and thread the machine. As I worked...and worked...and worked...and messed up...and messed up...and messed up, I muttered to Angela, "I got the award in Home Ec, you know." She said to me, "You did?" "Well yes....in Human Development. Clearly this is why I didn't get it in sewing."

But love is patient, so I worked my way through that delay without punching the machine.

And then I went to Wal-Mart.The trip where the lady in the pink shorts (who should not have been wearing shorts) walked way too slowly down the aisle and because of the busyness of the store, I was stuck behind her. Love is patient with her outfit and her speed. The trip where people didn’t know that you should always walk to the right of the aisle. Love is patient with people who make you move to sides of the aisle that you principally object to using. The trip where people insisted on walking slowly down the center of the parking lot aisle and also blocking prime parking spots with doors hanging open on vehicles and carts being unloaded. Love is patient in a place where driving should be slow anyway and it wouldn’t kill you to walk from the far end of the lot.

Following that, there was the trip to the Dollar Tree, where I contended with two young mothers and their combination of five children. The kids were loud and all over the store, and the mothers used less than appropriate language in correcting them. Love is patient with kids who don’t know any better because clearly their parents are not teaching them any better. And then there was the line behind me as I checked out – the line that grew with no other cashiers to help shorten it because the two remaining employees chose that time to have a rather heated argument one aisle over. Love is patient with the cashier I have who is doing her best to take care of my shopping as quickly as she can.

Love is patient. And at heart, I am not. But I'm learning.

A Braid Gone Bad - Day Five

I'm exhausted. I'll admit it. Not just exhausted because it's the Friday of a long week. Not just exhausted because it's 11:30 and time for bed. But exhausted because the attempt of putting together the three parts of love that I've studied this week did not go well today. I was in tears before 8:30 even showed up. Everything and everyone that could get on my nerves...seemed to. It wasn't long before I didn't even bother to torture myself (which is what it felt like) with reminders of being loving in all I said and did.

I was reading a blog earlier today - Deb Wuertley's blog. She was talking about her daily routine and how the amount of time it takes her to do her daughter's hair depends on the style - and French braids take the longest. Boy do I remember the days of French braids. If you didn't know me prior to my senior year in high school, let me just tell you that I had enough hair on my head to make approximately 412 Locks of Love donations. Okay so that might be a slight exaggeration, but I had HAIR. It was long, and it was thick. That translates to "it was up out of my way in the summer." My friend Cyndi (fellow lotsa hair girl) taught me to French braid my own hair and I was so excited to learn it. I became an expert at quickly braiding my hair. But then there were days. Days when I had to start over four or five times. Days when I hated my hair and would have shaved it all off had a razor been nearby. And on those days, I'd have to put my elbows down on the dresser, mid-braid, to rest, because my arms ached from being up so long trying to get the stupid braid to look right.

That's how I felt today about 1 Corinthians 13 and the great love assignment of 2006. I was trying to braid these three strands I've been studying...and I just got so tired. I hurt and ached and got sick of trying to make it work. I wanted to forget it and rip that page out of my Bible and just study around it. (Not really - for those of you who might find even such a suggestion offensive.)

It's hard to love people when it doesn't come naturally to you, and it's Friday morning of a long week with little sleep, and you don't have your normal caffeine to start your day. And frankly, I didn't want to do it.

I thought maybe because I failed, God would keep me in the first three verses for another day. Apparently not. Apparently now I get to venture into verse four...and the dreaded phrase: Love is patient. I'm sure tomorrow being Saturday will in no way make that an easier lesson. But as I head into the beginning of the famous list that is the bulk of this chapter, I realize how important those braided strands are to the list. In what I say...in what I know and think...in what I do....there must be love. And tomorrow at least...that love must be patient - in my words, in my mind, and in my actions.

It's Not So Much Today...It's Tomorrow I Dread - Day Four

Today was "doing day." My focus in every action was - am I doing this in love? And I was surprised to find the day not as difficult as I imagined it would be. Perhaps it was because I didn't have any appointments on the books. Or because the phones, though busy, were not filled with people who tested my patience to the limit. (Patience is the start of verse four, so perhaps they're all waiting for that day to arrive.)

In fact, I very much enjoyed talking to the people who called today. Many were old friends from last year who are just now calling for their first round of information for the upcoming year. We caught up on summers and plans and that sort of thing.

I had lunch with a friend...staff meeting did not take as long as it has been known to take...I got a free coffee after work...an unexpected gift card for my Mary Kay party...even Kaegan is extra friendly tonight. It's been a good day. And I find it's easy to do in love when people are "deserving" of love and all is right in the world.

I thought perhaps because "doing" is what I do, it just came more naturally than the first two things I had to learn about. But I think instead that it was just a good day. Not every day has to be challenging. A good one can hide among the rest.

So I was poised to move on to verse four - which I dread, by the way. Any phrase including the word "patient" is not going to be my friend. I can tell you that right now.

But tonight while I talked to one of my friends, I said something that just wasn't kind. And she called me on it. She said, "Bekah, that wasn't nice." I said, "Oh, I know." That has haunted me ever since.

So I think God has put the brakes on moving on to verse four. I think instead what I get to do is revisit verses one, two, and three together. Tomorrow's assignment is to work on my speaking, my knowing, and my doing - and in all three - be meaningful, be something, and be favorable in the sight of God and man. Oh boy.

Dare I even wonder what my Friday holds?

A Curse Comes Before A Blessing...Right? - Day Three

Today the whole experiment has seemed little more than a dreadful curse that has settled over me and spread to those around me as well. However, I do not like to use the word "curse" when discussing the teaching I'm receiving from God, so I will say that this must be a blessing on the way that only seems like a curse right now.

After what I read yesterday, I kept repeating to myself, "Don't be nothing. Don't be nothing. Be full of love." I tried to see each person I met with and talked with on the phone as a child of God. I tried to remind myself that each one is only trying to make an easier path for her child or a better life for himself. It was a challenge that I have to admit I did not meet with grace each time. I did slam a door. Granted it slammed a little harder than I intended - but to intend at all made it a "nothing" moment. I did have one small moment of parking lot rage in the Wal-Mart parking lot - against a driver who was probably only trying to get home for lunch. How was she to know I was on a strict schedule to purchase five copper flower pots at the Dollar Tree?

And as I sat down to read verse 3 tonight, I found this: If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing. Well, being the pain-hating packrat that I am, I was fairly certain that this verse had little bearing on my life. It must be there for someone else taking the pastor's challenge.

Then I noticed that this verse is about doing things. I've read about speaking and knowing - but this is about doing. I'm a Martha to the max. I'm a do-er. I'm a card-making, scrapbook-compiling, yard-mowing, cooking, errand-running, cat-feeding, baby-sitting, taxi-driving (okay not for a job, but you know what I mean) frenzied fanatic. Doing is what I do. Need someone to pick up your mail while you go on vacation? I'd be happy to. Need a batch of brownies for the board meeting? I'll make sure they arrive on time. Need a place to crash when you pass through from out of town? My guest room will be awaiting your arrival.

But if I don't do in love - there's no point.

And you know the scary part? This is doing season at work. I can so feel experiment central permeating my office tomorrow. I need a masseuse.

Practicing While Learning - Day Two

August 22, 2006. I woke up this morning (several snoozes into the day), determined to put into practice what I learned from verse one yesterday. And so as I went through this day, I repeatedly slapped the back of my hand, bit my tongue, pursed my lips, and at times even walked away from conversation in an attempt to watch my words and say them with love. I even tried smiling (though I'll be the first to admit it was fake) at someone who irritated me to death and found myself softening as the conversation went on. (What do you know? Maybe it does work.)

I found myself in the middle of several occasions today when I was truly annoyed. Annoyed at stupidity, annoyed at interruption, annoyed because I had so little sleep despite my best efforts, annoyed because I knew a long day loomed...annoyed.

And each time I started to gripe out loud, God tapped me with a reminder that the people on the other end of my thoughts are His children just as much as I am. And though the problems in their world are easily solved in my mind, they aren't easily solved to them. One person today thanked me profusely after I rattled off an answer I can give in my sleep. Only then did I stop to remember that this isn't every day business to just everybody.

Hence verse two came to life before my very eyes. "If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing." It wasn't prophecy, but it was knowledge - and to those calling me, it remained a mystery. It was a gift to them that I could explain answers to their baffling questions. But I had to ask myself every time - Am I being loving about this? ICK.

The last word in that verse really got to me. NOTHING. It's a strong word. I'm meaningless and pointless apart from love. It doesn't matter that I know answers. It doesn't matter if I'm talented. It doesn't matter if I'm called to serve God - because If I'm not going to do any of that with love, it's nothing...and I'm nothing.

Tonight I was talking to one of my friends on the phone. We were comparing the life situations of two of our friends. They have different details but the same root problem. And we know just how to fix it - if they'd only listen to us. And then there was this other story I was telling her about a totally irrational line of thought someone had today - and how I knew just what the correct line should have been. Why don't people listen? Well probably it's because we need to shut up and start working on our own problems. But you know - it doesn't matter that we're wise that way (if it really is wisdom) - because if we don't love those people - all our logic is pointless.

I don't want to be pointless. I have work to do. 28 more days. Can I handle this?

The Great Love Assignment of 2006 - Day One

August 21, 2006. Okay so I know I'm posting this a day late, but I got behind yesterday. I had to be at work an hour early this morning, so I had the brilliant idea to be in bed early last night - which I was. But apparently my brain didn't feel sleepy yet, so I was up until the traditional post-midnight hour watching the minutes slowly tick closer to "too early." I should have just gotten back up and posted this.

Sunday, our pastor issued what I have dubbed "The Great Love Assignment of 2006." He preached about how real Christians are loving people - and then he challenged each of us to read 1 Corinthians 13 every day for the next 30 days. I'm always up for a challenge, so I accepted it, even though I knew it was going to come back to bite me.

So August 21 was my first day...and though I read the whole chapter, the whammy hit me in the first verse. It's going to be a long 30 days. Just in case you don't know the chapter by heart - here's verse 1: "If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal."

Words are my thing. Ever since I could speak...I have been...in paragraphs. And once I learned to write, I wrote in them too. And last week, when I read my weekly chapter in Elizabeth George's book "Beautiful in God's Eyes," she talked all about words and how a woman of worth chooses her words carefully. How she encourages. How she uplifts. How she has obviously never shopped at Wal-Mart. Oh wait. That last part was mine.

But because I do shop at Wal-Mart (and it's not the entire chain I have issues with - it's just the one where I live...or more specifically the people who seem to shop when I do...at a much slower pace) words have become a problem for me. So has eye-rolling. So has sighing. So to be thinking about how my words should exit my mouth and then thinking about how they really do...is a sobering thought.

Yesterday I thought of one phone call I had at work. I had a crying girl on the other end of the line, and that is not highly unusual in my line of work. When I talked to her, I said and did all the right things. I listened, I "awwed," I "uh-huuuuuuhed," and I "I knooooowed." I offered words that I hoped would comfort - and they seemed to. But when I think about my demeanor during the phone call, love was noticeably absent. I did what I did because it's my job. And that's all I really have to do. But what I should have done was genuinely care because someone was genuninely hurting.

I spoke her language. And I spoke it well. I used my words wisely. But I truly did nothing more than make noise. I was just a piece of percussion keeping the beat.

Ouch. It's going to be a long 30 days.

Sunday, August 20, 2006

It has been a Bekah-land sort of weekend. Need I say more? You might be wishing I wouldn’t – but you know me better than that.

Thursday night I stopped by the little gas station around the corner to pick up some chocolate milk for the next day. Friday was a vacation day for me and all good vacation days include chocolate milk at the start. So I wandered in – kind of late that evening – and one of the guys who works there waved at me. He used to work the morning shift – when I used to go in every morning before work for a pop – so I saw him every day. But now he works the overnight hours and goodness knows I have no need for caffeine then.

When I got up to the front of the line to pay for my milk, he said to me, “Where’d you go to high school?” I told him, and he said, “I know more about you than you think I know!” My eyebrows shot straight up on that one. It turns out that he discovered his wife and I were in the same class in high school – and given the odd spelling of my name, he made the connection that I was the same one she talked about when she took trips down memory lane. So we caught up – and he told me that she worked at another station across town.

So…the next morning, I got up and on my way out of town for my small road triplet, I stopped where she works. Now he’d told me that he was going to relay the message to her that I would be coming to visit. Don’t you know that he forgot? So over the exchange of money for my Krispy Kreme, I asked the cashier if Heather was around, and she called her out to the front. Heather said to me, “May I help you?” I said, “Hey!!” As she gave me a totally blank stare, I realized she had no idea a.) who I was, or b.) that I was coming to see her.

But she recovered quickly, figured out who I was, and we had the nicest little catch up session there in the back room of the gas station. But here’s the part that killed me. She told me I became the matter of discussion that led her husband to realize he knew me when her daughter developed a fascination with watching Little House on the Prairie. Now, if you don’t know me well, I’ll have to make a slight confession here.

Back in the day, I was a huge Little House fan. Mom had to schedule dinner around channel 23’s late afternoon showing of Little House. I pitched a fit of gargantuan proportion when I had to miss any episode. And for a while (I so cannot believe I’m divulging this information) I even kept my own running episode guide in a pink notebook. Complete with show titles. I know. I know. GET A LIFE. And Heather knew of this obsession because one week when I was on vacation, I knew there were some episodes coming up that I didn’t have titles for, and I requested that she watch the first five minutes of Little House every day to grab the titles for me.

Other people get pet sitters or mail gatherers when they go on vacation. I assign someone to watch a syndicated TV show to get the title for me. I need therapy. However, I will say that it provided a rather amusing pastime for my college roommates. During my freshman year, Little House aired at 8 or 9 in the morning, and they would make me leave the room (where I was getting ready for class) when it first came on until the title would pass – and then they would call me back in. They proceeded to time me to see how long it took me to guess the title. My average was under five seconds – and I rarely missed even a single word of the title. And for as pathetic as that is, I think it’s pretty good.

It all gave brand new meaning to “I know more about you than you think,” though. Frightens me to know that my neighborhood gas station buddy knows this about me.

So anyway. So many other things happened this weekend that made it the sordid conglomeration of events that it was – but allow me to share just one more.

My small road triplet took me about 2 ½ hours away to the home of one of my college roommates, her husband, and their daughter. Christina, Emily and I spent Friday together, and we had a great time catching up. When Andrew came home from work, the three of us spent the evening hanging out, playing a game, and watching TV. When it was time to go to sleep, I joked with Christina, “I’ll try not to sleep in until 11 like I do at home.”

I curled up in the guest room and kept one eye on the clock all night – forcing myself to wake up every hour or so just to make sure I didn’t sleep too late. Around 8:40 in the morning, I decided to get up – I’d heard them all stirring and it just seemed like a good medium time to get up – not too early, not too late. I went into the bathroom, took my shower, did my hair and makeup, came out, strolled into the bedroom, grabbed my cell phone to put it in my pocket, and glanced at the time while I did. 12:40. WHAT?? I yanked my watch out of my suitcase. 12:40. I looked up at the bedroom clock. Flashing 9:23. Flashing, I say!!!! Apparently the power went out…and I failed to notice that tiny detail.

I was so mortified. But I had to get down the stairs to get out the door. Christina was putting away dishes, Emily was chasing Andrew around, and I said, “Uh, hi.” Christina just said, “Would you like a donut or do you want lunch?”

MAMA!!!!!

Friday Favorite #2

I figured if the amount of time remaining until midnight is less than half an hour, it's close enough to Friday to post my Friday favorite.

Tonight I went to a scrapbook night at a scrapbook store. Next to bookstores, scrapbook stores probably make me happier than just about any other kind of shopping arena. Just to be surrounded by paper and albums and adhesive (and I do not SNIFF the adhesive, thankyouverymuch) - it just all makes me very happy.

The bad thing about short crop nights is that you just get going when it's time to quit. So tonight I just took a little project to work on, so that I could leave feeling like I'd actually accomplished something. I cropped all my pictures and rounded the corners so they're ready to go on the page when the time comes.

And therein lies my favorite. The Creative Memories corner rounder. It is the only rounder I've ever found (and I've used several) that does not make my thumb feel like it's about to fall off after punching my 212th corner. I do not wake up the next morning with carpal tunnel thumb. I do not wake up without feeling in my thumb. That alone makes it a winner. But even better - it has the little corner trap. I'm sure they've given it a much more eloquent name - but that's what it is. It's a little trap door that catches all the corners as you punch them off - so they don't go flying all over the table like fingernails in church (SHAME on those of you who do that!!). When the holding tank gets full, you just open it and dump out all the corner pieces - neatly into the trash can, of course - and then you start over!!

I know not all of you are scrapaholics like I am - but if you are, and you don't have this corner rounder - you gotta get it.

The Litter's In Its Box and All's Right With The World

I just got home from Wal Mart with two sixteen pound (each) cartons of litter and one has found a new home in the downstairs litter box. Ahhhh...the sound of real litter pouring in - ending (hopefully) my nightmares of rebellious cats pronouncing their distaste for paper scraps and wood chips. I'm sure it won't be long before Braeya is frolicking in the box which she sometimes feels is her own personal sandbox meant solely for pleasure. In fact, Braeya thinks most things in this house were put here just for her. I'll have to come back to that sometime later and explain it more.

But as I lugged the two cartons of litter out of the Wal-Mart, I discovered that my car seemed to be parked a greater distance away than when I came in...and the faster I walked, the heavier those two suckers felt! So when I got home, I checked out how much they weighed and realized that if I would lose 32 pounds...it would be the same as two cartons of litter that I would not be lugging around every day. It's like when Oprah pulled the red wagon of fat out onto her stage. Weird how 32 pounds seems so abstract until you pick up 32 pounds and realize that would be what you would lose.

This is the only thought I am currently capable of producing - it's been a long day filled with strange questions and a marathon of paperwork. So until I can come up with something more thought provoking - or at least normal - I will stop typing.

Sunday, August 13, 2006

I am officially in Christmas mode. Yes, you read that right. Christmas mode. I’m not sure who is more to blame – Hobby Lobby and its 14 aisles of Christmas décor or the lady who called in on the radio the other day and got on my nerves. Given that I heard the radio lady more recently than I saw the Hobby Lobby spread, I’ll blame her.

Here’s how it happened. I was listening to the radio at work just like I always do, and on the morning call-in show, a woman phoned who had the deadly combo of a whiny radio voice and a cell phone that only worked ¾ of the time. I listened for about a minute and just couldn’t take it anymore – and I had no idea how long she might prattle on. So in a moment of haste, I turned off the radio and clicked over to my computer’s stored music.

I worked my way through the Gaither Vocal Band and the Booth Brothers – and by mid-afternoon, I completely forgot that I wasn’t listening to the radio – and that it was, in fact, just a list of music playing. And that’s when it happened. The Point of Grace Winter Wonderland CD was up for play, and before I knew it, I was singing along to In the First Light and Breath of Heaven and All is Well while I simultaneously worked my way through my files.

That evening I found myself making preliminary notes for the outline of my Christmas letter, sifting through the Colorful Images catalog for possible return address labels that might coordinate with the cards I have yet to make, and brainstorming where I might strategically locate each of the way-too-many trees I insist upon decorating each year.

But whether or not you think I’m OCD about Christmas (as my sister claims), allow me to tell you the following reasons why I think it is wise to consider Christmas at least this early every year.

1. Gift sales. Yes, yes, I know that the official Christmas sales with accompanying red and white hoopla won’t begin for another couple of months at least, but just think how much you could save on buying gifts if you were up with every season’s clearance sale!! Just this morning when I read the Sunday flyers, I saw a huge discount on one of those obnoxious utility lamps used by people who know how to do industrial work (a.k.a. not me). I bought one for my Dad a couple of years ago. Had I planned ahead that year, I could have saved some bucks! (That would have allowed me to buy more stinking gift certificates which are the only things he ever asks for…but I digress.)

2. A Christmas letter with flair. I realize that most people who write Christmas letters are people with families…kids…who actually have something to report from the previous year. I’m not really sure when I picked up the habit of writing Christmas letters – but I’ve been doing it for a few years now. But every year it’s the same thing. I sit down and stare at a blank screen before typing out “please refer to last year’s letter.” I have even been known to consult the calendar or my endless journals to come up with something newsworthy. Nothing. But not this year!! This year I have a whole list of things that I’ve worked nicely into a theme – so that at least old news can have a new format!

3. Actual participation in festivities. There are some years when I’ve been sort of a last minute girl. Ask my Mom about the year we did all my shopping on Christmas Eve. But my full plan is to have my cards made and my shopping done by Thanksgiving weekend so I can spend that weekend wrapping, addressing, and decorating. Then I have the entire month of December to go to other people’s parties, bake cookies, sing along with all my faves (in the privacy of my home, of course) and sit on the couch late at night and stare at my 16 strands of lights wound ever so strategically through the branches of my main tree.

4. Vacation days are easier to get. Isn’t it fun to divvy up the holiday-time vacation days among all the co-workers every year? There are always the unspoken rules that dictate who gets the time off depending on who got it last year combined with who most recently got to “claim a holiday.” But if you take your days in August and September to prepare for Christmas, chances are, they’ll be much easier to approve!

5. And rounding out my list is something I’ve actually never done and probably won’t ever do – but it is a good thought! You could hang your outdoor Christmas lights now and work on your tan while you do it!! And the thing of it is – if you lived in my neighborhood, no one would even think it strange!

So call me crazy, but on Christmas Eve, when you can’t find the gift you want, you are out of wrapping paper and the stores have closed, and you are sweating in the kitchen while baking the last batch of cookies, think of me. I’ll be fast asleep on the couch – cradled by whatever’s left in working order of the sixteen strands of lights.

A Friday Favorite

My sister, Lori, has an L-List. She took her cue from Oprah who has that favorite things show every year - the show that everybody wants to be on because they get to take home one of each of Oprah's favorite things. Anyway, so once a month, a package shows up in my mailbox and I rip into it, anxious to see what Lori's favorite thing is this time - and of course, try my own free sample.

Well, I have no free samples to give, but I have decided to share about my favorite things too - because what are little sisters good for, if not for copying off their big sisters who copy off Oprah? So, until I get bored or run out of favorites, each Friday will be my day to share a favorite thing.

Tonight was a lazy sort of night. A Friday when my friends had plans and I did not - and maybe that was even sort of refreshing. I came home from work after running a few errands and curled up on the couch under my pink princess blanket to become acquainted with the TV show Northern Exposure. I'd never seen an episode in my life but have on loan the entire first season on DVD, so I began learning all about life in Cicely, Alaska.

About halfway through the second episode, I decided I was cold - which is not a good sign since it's still August, and the air should be able to run at 67 degrees. It was too late to drink coffee, since I don't own decaf and the fully leaded stuff should not be consumed late at night if I have any intentions of sleeping. But I found in my cabinet one scoop of chai left in the bottom of the Tastefully Simple can. I forgot I had one serving hoarded for such a time as this. And though I was too eager to drink and now have no tastebuds functioning on the front half of my tongue, it was so worth it - because that is good stuff.

Nothing beats a chai from a cafe, but in the variety of chai mixes that I've tried, Tastefully Simple wins my vote. So if you've never tried chai, I think you should track down a Tastefully Simple consultant and buy a can of Oh My! Chai.

The Best Laid Plans...

I wrote those of you on my column list and told you that I now have a blog - even though I said I wouldn't...said I couldn't...yet I here I am! And I also told you that today I would add pictures to accompany some of the most recent columns. Rest assured that much effort was put into such an attempt today. Obviously you can tell that much effort led to zero outcome.

No matter how much time I have to put into it this weekend, you can know that I will do my best to find a way to get them on here, once the technical issues have been put aside.

I need to go - it's Thursday evening, which means it's time for the Gaither Homecoming Hour on TV. That would make it the point in the week where for an hour, I imagine that I actually know how to sing alto (occasionally soprano) and I sing along. So far, the cats haven't run away, so I must not be doing too badly yet. Tonight they're showing the Israel one, which is one of my favorites, so I want to catch the rest of it! Oh! Holy Highway is the next song, so I gotta go. David Phelps sings on this one, so I especially can't miss it!

Sunday, August 6, 2006

Braeya is safely home following the great declawment of 2006. She almost spent an extra night at the vet’s when a last minute phone call kept me from leaving work on time. I spent the entire rush to the vet’s in near hyperventilation mode, both from the thought of another Braeyaless night at home and from the wonder of what an evening of veterinary hospitality might cost me. Despite my uncontrolled breathing and high pitched screeching on the phone all the way to the vet’s office, I made it with just a couple of minutes to spare.

I was a bit worried that she really wouldn’t want anything to do with me. I mean if I were her, I’d be pretty ticked at me right now. First, I took away her food the night before her surgery. Allow me to just say that eating is the national pastime of citizens at my house. You may not like the options I have, but buddy, you’ll have options. Kaegan did not quite understand why he had to participate in the food fast – followed by the water fast. But I figured they wouldn’t sort out on their own who was allowed to eat and who wasn’t. And then as if the grounding from food and water wasn’t enough, I took her on this fun car ride – to a brand new place full of fun nooks and crannies to explore – and stuck her on the scales. And then – well, we won’t even talk about the ripping out of the nails. So if someone starved me, tricked me into a vacation, weighed me, and then ripped my nails out one by one, I’m not so sure I’d be in a speaking mood just one day later. But Braeya seems to have inherited someone else’s forgiveness genes – so she was purring on high when they retrieved her from the back room.

And that is where the adventure began. They sent me home with list of discharge information (could they not come up with a better title for a document?) which I read in great detail.

The evening after being given anesthetic, your pet is to receive only small amounts of food and water. Offer half the normal amount for the first evening. Yeah. Like Kaegan is going to go for that plan. Braeya will just have to be self-controlled.

Your pet may be uncoordinated or weak following surgery. As if she wasn’t before?? She fell off of everything she tried to climb on! Make sure they are not allowed to navigate stairways, without supervision for the first 24 hours. HA! Try living in a two story house with that rule!

Nausea may be present…vomiting may occur. Girl, you better not. This mama doesn’t do puke.

Make sure your pet has a clean, dry, confined area to rest. Thank goodness it didn’t specify I had to make sure she used it!

Excessive activity and jumping should be discouraged for 10-14 days. Riiiiiiiiight. Hello! She doesn’t respond to “No no, Braeya. No jumping in the house.” And she’s got a brother. Excessive activity and jumping are what she’s all about!

Do not allow your pet to lick the incision area excessively. Braeya has a doctorate in bathing. She isn’t going to go for that at all.

And then of course, my personal favorite. The litter issue. No litter for 10 days. I hauled out the big bag of shredding and prepared to swap out the litter in the boxes (one box upstairs, one downstairs) for the shredding. Of course, I had to keep her away from said activity, because Braeya’s master’s degree is in helping. So I locked her in the downstairs bathroom, pulled the litter box out of the cabinet, dumped it into a kitchen trash bag, swept out the whole cabinet, and filled the box with shredding. I let her out, moved upstairs, blocked off my bedroom, and proceeded to do the same with that box.

Allow me to say that I considered changing trash bags between boxes, but being the world’s biggest cheapie, I decided to conserve trash bags and use the same one for the cleaning of both boxes.

Big mistake.

I carried the rather heavy bag downstairs after successfully swapping out both litter boxes and noticed when I reached the bottom of the stairs that the bag was starting to stretch. I decided to put it down and go get a paper sack to reinforce it so as not to have a mess on my hands. I found a paper sack, picked up the trash bag, and promptly poked a hole in it. Litter poured all over the hallway. I rolled my eyes, put the trash bag down, scouted out Braeya’s presence (safe on the back of the couch), and pulled out the vacuum. I swept up the runaway litter, left everything as it was, and went to the garage in search of something better than a paper sack to put the litter in. I found the perfect box out there, came back in, picked up the trash sack, and riiiiiip – another hole right in the bottom. I dumped the sack into the box, but not before about 1/3 of the contents were on the hallway floor – the heating unit – the blinds – the window sill – my shoes. Please remember this is used litter.

AAAHHH. I got the vacuum back out but noticed more litter falling out of the hose than being sucked up into it. The bag was full. Sigh. I went to the closet for a new bag. None. I pulled Braeya off the back of the couch, stuck her upstairs (ignoring rule number two of the discharge information), and lured Kaegan up there too, because the last thing I needed was him mistaking this mess in the hall as the location of a new litter box and christening it. I drove to Wal Mart (no comment) and discovered all vacuum bags have new (matching, no less) packaging so I had to sprawl out in the aisle and read every box to find my kind of bag. I came home, put the new bag in the vacuum, cleaned up the mess, and carried the box of litter out to the alley. I noticed about halfway through the yard that the box had a hole in the bottom and I was leaving a Hansel and Gretel trail of litter as I walked.

Needless to say, the entire house has received a thorough vacuuming and Braeya probably stood a better chance with the litter in the box than with her ding dong mother’s attempt to try to create a safe environment for her precious tender paws.

Oh and one more thing before I conclude this sorry story. Allow me to just say that a box of trash bags costs $2.43 – making each bag $0.12 each. Vacuum bags cost $5.12, making them $1.73 each. Not to mention the 2 ½ billion dollars I spent on gas driving twelve blocks to Wal-Mart. The moral of the story is: fork out the twelve cents for a second trash bag!