Not Really Back in the Game - But at Least Off the Oxygen!

Hello hello hello!! I have returned from the land of women's retreats - much against my will. For being the girl who never liked to travel or be away from home, I find that I do it a lot more often these days - and not only that - I actually love it!

I stopped to see Dad for a few minutes in between coming home from the retreat and heading out to a birthday party. What a busy day! But I wanted to give an update to you. He is doing much better than I thought he would be. He tends to not handle surgeries - medical procedures of any kind, really - very well. We Freelans like to complicate things wherever we can, and he chooses that arena.

But when I went into the room today, he was able to tell me how many fingers I was holding up (my standing form of determining wellness) and was not slurring his speech anymore. When I talked to him on the phone Friday just a couple of hours after surgery, he kind of sounded like Barney Fife in that one episode where he was looking out for Mrs. Mendelbright and he drank too much of her outdated cider. Today he was coherent. (Dad - not Barney. Barney's dead.)

He was, however, on oxygen when I went in. I hated to, you know, make him feel worse or anything, but that just kind of made him look like a for-real sick person, so I asked why he had it. He said when he tried to take it off, his nose plugged up. Someone else who was there suggested that maybe if he would take it out and leave it out for an hour or so, his nose would recuperate. He immediately took it off and that alone made him look well enough to go home.

These boys - they just don't think about appearances like we girls do - so I was glad I could help him recover in appearance. Next I'm going to work on nixing the gown in favor of real clothes.

If all goes well (in his words - "if there are no significant setbacks") - he should get to go home tomorrow. He really appreciates everyone's prayers, and boy do I have a fantastic picture of him for you - just as soon as I get it developed. It will be worth the wait. Dad as you've never seen him. :D

Dad Update

Dad is out of surgery.

Everything went well and there were no surprises.

We are waiting for final tests results (which will be in on Tuesday) but there is no reason to think that it has spread.

Dad's Surgery - TOMORROW

I realized yesterday at lunch when I sat down to watch Andy Griffith while I ate a hot dog that it was the first time my TV had been on since SUNDAY. I haven't been home at all this week!! Hence - no posts.

Anyway, TOMORROW is my Dad's surgery. It will be at noon (we think) and should last about two hours. The "we think" part is because it was originally scheduled for 2 p.m., but it got moved up after they had a cancellation. So who knows - maybe sooner again!!

Dad really appreciates all of you who are praying for him and the rest of us do as well!! Please pray for Mom too, as she will have lots on her plate in the days to come!!

I am working on a way for an update to be posted on my blog when Dad comes out of surgery - so feel free to check back!!!

The Wedding Sagas in Picture Form - Keep Scrolling!

I found pictures of all the weddings I wrote about in my October 15th post. I had to post them all separately because my computer has attitude tonight. Please pay special attention to the questionable hairstyles being sported in some weddings. My two flower girl pictures are separated from the rest by my regular Sunday post - so keep scrolling!!!

The Wedding/Obstacle Course

This was the wedding where I was the coordinater and so gracefully fell through the hole hiding under the aisle runner. Can you tell through my gritted teeth how much my feet hurt?

The Wedding/Homewrecking

I was Lynnette's maid of honor in my favorite bridesmaid dress of all time. This one had a tiny sheer train on the back of the dress - LOVED it. This was the wedding where I was the accidental homewrecker.

The Ready Made Family Wedding

You do not even want to know how many bobby pins were in my hair for this updo. I think it was fifty-some. Anyway, this wedding was the one where the mother of the bride tried to fix me up with the brother of the groom - a newly divorced, father of one. This picture was an attempted remake of a picture taken of my sister Julie at my sister Lori's wedding. Julie was in her bridesmaid dress and cowboy boots. Here I was in my purple dress and white tennis shoes. Problem was - the shoes didn't make it into the picture. Thank goodness digital cameras have arrived now!!

The Wedding Where NOTHING Went Wrong

This was the one flawless wedding - at least as far as I can remember. This was when my college roommate, Amy, got married. The gloves were the worst part. They were "one size fits all" but they fit skinny arms much more comfortably than fat ones. On me they felt like those gloves people have to wear when they have - what is it - circulation problems? Again - not sure about the hair....

Bridesmaid Round One

Here was my first round of being a bridesmaid. I loved the dress, but it was a nightmare for me. (Just to refresh - this was the one that the store measured me wrong for and then the dress was too small and then the zipper broke and then the whole trip was a disaster. Nevertheless, it was a great wedding and I was very happy to be part of it! (Speaking of disaster - check out the hair!!)

Sunday, October 29, 2006

Happy Halloween two days early!! I was halfway through writing this to you when I got out my stash-o-printed columns and realized I’d written the SAME THING last year. I need new material.

So…as you may or may not remember, Halloween is a holiday I love, but it’s one I do not participate in using traditional methods. I love the candy, and I love the excuse for a party. Unfortunately, my budget loves neither. I cannot afford to buy a trunkload of candy that may or may not be picked up by the begging anklebiters of the community. And I certainly cannot afford to eat said leftovers.

Let me tell you why. Friday, I was invited to go to a costume party that our secretary was having at her house. She even offered to provide the complete costume for me – since I have so few lying around the house. I was going to go as a Princess (of course…what else?) and she had a dress and shoes and jewelry and help for my hair and the whole nine yards. I arrived at her house about an hour and a half before the party started, and while the hot rollers heated, she helped me into the dress.

Except I was too fat to fit into it. Now there is nothing worse than getting to the end of the world’s worst day, being comforted in knowing that you get to be a Princess for the night, and then finding out WOOPS! Congratulations – you are too fat to be a Princess. Correction. There is one thing worse. Coming home after such a tragedy, kicking off your shoes, and stepping (in socks) in a fresh pile of cat puke.

So as I said, I certainly cannot afford to eat leftover candy. Or any candy, for that matter.

In the meantime, I’ve decided that this year has to be better than last year’s Halloween. I’m borrowing selected details from a special edition of my column that I sent to only some people. I’ve edited it to eliminate disgusting details – but perhaps you can enjoy the rest of it:

I’ve never cared for doctors, primarily because every time I go, I have a “that would only happen to you” experience. Like when I went to a clinic with strep throat and got the gamut of questions ranging from “What did your grandparents die of?” to “Are you sexually active?” It’s a sore throat, people. Let’s try to stay focused, shall we? Or the time I went to the dentist and was sedated…but the sedation didn’t sedate.

So for me to even make a doctor appointment was a rather significant occasion in my life. And had I not been worrying that I was dying, I’d never have picked up the phone. See, in Bekah-land, you’re either 100% healthy, or you’re dying. Why would there ever be a middle ground of treatable illness? I figured I’d walk in the office, he’d take one look at me, and say, “I’m sorry, but you have about four hours to live. Please say your goodbyes.” The three week wait to get in to see the doctor, as a result, was pure torture.

The night before my appointment was Halloween and I spent the evening hiding from Trick-or-Treaters, per my annual custom. I spent extra time in Bible study and prayer, hoping it would calm me for my visit. Well, the particular thing I was working on that night parked me in John chapter 14. Perhaps this will ring a bell: “In my Father’s house are many mansions. I’ll be coming back tomorrow to get you.” Oh…perhaps I went a little off text there at the end.

Several weeks before that, the house down at the end of the block had a significant party that lasted until the wee hours. The banner hanging from the porch the next day marked it the “Josiah-palooza.” I don’t know Josiah, but his palooza resurfaced that night in the form of a Halloween extravaganza. So at midnight, I tossed and turned in bed, mulling over “if it were not so…I would have told you…I go to prepare a place…” with Josiah’s latest palooza as my background music.

After a few precious hours of sleep, I sat in the waiting room surrounded by sickies and fellow hypochondriacs. A woman old enough to know better came out of the rooms in the back and handed a piece of paper to her friend while loudly asking, “Do you want to see a picture of what they took out of me?” I crossed my eyes and went back to answering questions on my form. “Do you smoke?” Circle yes. “For how long?” Ever since I walked in the door of this office. “Do you drink?” Pen in: Do you provide complimentary ones? I’ll give it a shot. Literally. (KIDDING, Mom and Dad!)

A nurse with the personality of a ceramic toad came to the door and called my name. I made my way to the back with her where she instructed me to step on the scales. I don’t believe in scales. I jokingly said, “Do I have to?” She gave me a rather annoyed look and said, “Well you don’t have to.” Good grief, woman!! I got on the scales and closed my eyes tightly to avoid the news we all already know – too fat to be a Princess!

She left me in a room with an announcement that the doctor would be with me shortly. I learned that shortly is 23 minutes. 23 l-o-n-g minutes filled with zero reading material. When shortly was over and the doctor arrived, he extended his hand and introduced himself. I immediately crinkled into a meltdown and said, “Hi, I’m Rebekah and you’re going to wish you’d called in sick today.” I cried the rest of the way through the appointment until he announced to me that he didn’t think I was dying.

My favorite part was the end of the appointment. I’d had to don a lovely Charmin evening gown, and when the consultation was over, I had no idea if the doctor or Ms. Ceramic Toad would be back in for any reason. Was I supposed to get dressed and leave? Or wait for instructions? I scrambled back into my clothes in a Riverdance-esque fashion and cautiously opened the door. I stuck my head out into the hall and made eye contact with the first scrubs-sporting person I saw. “Can I leave?” I felt like a kid fleeing time out!

So until my next near death experience – I’m not going back to any doctors. And no more reading John 14 on Halloween!! OR eating candy!

The French Braid Gone Bad Wedding

This was my sister's wedding - where I sported the French braid held securely by a rubber band meant for braces. But look at me being a good little helper - picking up all the flower petal mess I'd made after the wedding was over.

Wedding #1

My October 15th post was all about the weddings I've been in - and I found some pictures of them! I thought I'd post them in a couple of posts - but it appears my computer would like each to have its own separate post. I'll be here forever!

If you want to catch up with the full stories, just go to the Sunday, October 15 post, and you'll find them.

Anyway - here is my very first wedding - this was when the ring bearer, shown with me here, made fun of my imaginary dog, Lassie.

Goodbyes

I got an email today from my brother-in-law that had news I didn't quite expect to read just today. Back on October 11, I posted a blog about catching up with the Littlefields. When I was out in Kansas, I had a chance to visit with my former pastor and his wife. And this week, he died. I still can't believe it when I look at that picture. It was taken one month ago today. Though he's been ill for some time and on dialysis for quite a while, he seemed stronger than I envisioned he might. He carried on a good conversation and prayed over us before we left that day. He scratched out their email address on a scrap piece of paper and gave it to me.

And he only had a month left. So hard to think about. When I remember him, I can still hear his warm and loving voice over the speakers in our church. He sent cassette tape greetings on ahead in the weeks prior to his arrival at our church. He wanted to let us know how excited he was to meet all of us. He wanted us to know his voice. He loved his people - and we were blessed to have him lead us.

I knew when I walked out of his house that day, that my goodbye to him was likely a forever goodbye. I don't get to Kansas often. But what a treasure it now is to me to have had that hour with him last month. To see him serving faithfully in what were his last days. To be blessed by his prayer one more time. And to be able to say goodbye.

Naomi, I'm praying for you!

Sunday, October 22, 2006

What’s in a name?

Depending on the name – the answer might be uncontrollable twitching.

I was listening to the radio this week while I was at work and they had a whole hour long call in show about names. The people calling in told about their own names or the names of their children – what they meant, how they came to be “the name” and how they felt about them now. It was kind of interesting to hear the stories of how names came to be. Many were chosen because of the meaning behind the names or because of others who had that name before.

So this whole program sent me down a long trail of thought. See, I don’t have kids yet, so I’ve still got the luxury of thinking about what I’d like to name these children someday – if I ever have any. When I was little, it was easy. My best friend and I both had notebooks where we kept lists of names we really liked. By the time we quit keeping the notebook list, mine had gotten so long, it could have been a “name the baby” book by itself. But back then things were so simple. I would write down names just because I liked the sound of them or because I thought they fit well with the last name of that week’s crush.

And back then, I truly hated weird names. My name is not altogether weird, but the spelling was highly unusual back then. Today, I actually know more Rebekah’s than Rebecca’s. But back then, no one I knew would spell my name the way mine was spelled. So I spent the majority of my life saying, “Actually it’s R-e-b-e-k-a-h.” And then I’d politely listen while the person on the other end of my conversation commented on its uniqueness and wondered where my parents got it. So I vowed I would never name my kid anything weird.

And then I started working in Financial Aid. In this respect, it’s much like a teaching job, I imagine. You start to encounter a lot of people who make you roll your eyes – or cross your eyes – or gouge out your eyes. And suddenly, a name alone can send you into convulsions that seem to never end. And in the process, said name – a perfectly good name – is ruined forever. There are now dozens and dozens of names I can never use because of those who have gone before, proudly carrying those names into the X list of Bekah’s planning.

So now that I’ve marked off 80% of possible names to avoid twitching, I have to deal with the next issue, which is longevity. I cringed when Julia Roberts named her kids Hazel and Phineas. I wanted to say “Why don’t you just put them in the nursing home now?” These older names that are coming back have a beauty all their own, but I just can’t sit and rock my baby girl and say “Oh, my beautiful Ava” and not think of my one great aunt that was about 112 before I ever met her! And on the flip side of that, I’d love to hold a baby Brittany, but when she’s in line for dentures, I just can’t see the name fitting anymore.


I’ve also recently learned the travesty of name-stealing. This was new to me. But all my friends have all their baby names picked out. And apparently it is in very poor taste to take a name already selected by a friend. Who knew? And even worse, they don’t tell their names, so that no one steals them, but then if you announce your name for a baby you already have cooking, they say, “Oh that was our name!!” WELL HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW!! (By the way, I’ve never had this happen to me, since I have no children – I’ve just heard stories. Just to clarify.)

I don’t know whether or not you’ve ever seen the movie “Where the Heart is” (GREAT movie!) but the nurse in the hospital named her kids Brownie, Praline, Cherry, and Baby Ruth. I’m starting to see the wisdom in that. It would solve so many problems.

So all of this to say…I am now back to square one on names. The ones in my childhood list are gone. They’ve either been ruined by someone I encountered in my job, they have a definite age marker, or they’ve been put on layaway by my friends. So this leaves me with no choice but to pick something totally weird and when the kids complain, I’ll just say, “Sorry you have to keep explaining it – I totally feel your pain. You’ll get over it.”

Having said that, Braeya was one of my girl names. I had picked it out and had it on this famous “layaway list” for my someday baby girl. But when I got my little Braeya, I had decided I wasn’t having kids after all. So rather than waste a perfectly good name, I used it for her.

Now I’ve decided it would be nice to have kids someday. But we’re going to have to stick with boys – because those are the names I still have.

Still My Girl!

Cassie

Cassie's next substate game was a tough fight - and in the end, their team lost. But what an incredible season!! Almost forty wins and only one loss. She did a great job and I'm amazingly proud of her!! I'm so glad I got to watch her play some games in this best season yet.

That's My Girl!

I can't be there to cheer in person, but I can cheer in my heart!!

There's my girl - serving her heart out!

I just listened to the first game of substate and the Rangers won in two games!! The annoying announcer was gone and in her place was a very nice man who did his job well AND threw in some pretty impressive compliments about Cassie and her friend Megan. They play one more game later tonight, but I just wanted to cheer about this last game. GREAT WORK, CASSIE!!! I love you!!

Go Rangers!!

(I tried to upload a couple of pictures but apparently, despite two restarts, my computer is not in the mood today. I'll try again tomorrow!)

Tomorrow, my niece's volleyball team goes to substate. This is the first year they've gotten this far - at least since she's been a part of the team. I'm so excited for her!! They are 37-0 right now, so win or lose, they've had an amazing season.

This past Tuesday night, when they played in regionals, I was able to listen to the game because it was carried on a radio station that broadcasts on the web. Let me just tell you about that for a minute. Tuesdays never end in my world. Tuesdays are the days of forever overtime and dinner that doesn't start until about 10 p.m. So it was a refreshing diversion for me to be able to stay awake amid the mounds of paperwork. But I'll let you in on a little secret in case you don't know me that well: even though I'm not a diehard sports fan, I can get very into games. Attitudinally into games. I suddenly mistake them for Wal-Mart, and I get ugly. So there I sat, running reports and stapling papers, randomly yelling at my computer.

The announcer (who needed fired, but I don't think you can fire volunteers) kept interspersing her own opinionated commentary into the game. I'm new to volleyball, and I'm a visual person. And other than my niece and her best friend, the names were all new to me as well. Do you know how hard it is to keep terms and names straight when you can't see any of it and some ding dong is sitting there saying things like "Well that just doesn't seem right...uh...oh wait - what are they doing? Oh!" GOOD GRIEF, WOMAN!! KEEP YOUR MIND ON THE JOB!! Whew. Okay, I'm back now.

Prior to this particular season, in my world, dig is what you do to a hole to plant a flower, spike is a really adorable hairstyle on the two year olds at church, a sub is someone to make fun of when he or she tries to run a classroom belonging to someone else, serve is what you do on a church committee or when you work at Applebees, and set is a complete collection of dishes. So needless to say, while I parked at the desk trying to translate all these words into their true game meaning AND trying to remember which last names went with which teams, I did not have time for her unsolicited thought pattern.

I'll be back at the desk tomorrow to listen to the substate game. I hope someone else covers the radio crowd. And...GO RANGERS!! HAVE A GREAT GAME!!! Cassie, no matter the score, I'm so proud of you!!

Braeya the Blogger

Braeya the Blogger

It didn't take long for Braeya to adjust to life here. She has made herself most at home. And, I might add - most underfoot. Since it has been five years since I had a kitten in the house, I forgot how they tend to get right in between your feet while you walk and leave you feeling so guilty when you accidently kick them and they tumble away...a little ball of fur.

Braeya, however, has decided that she needs to be a part of everything that goes on here:

If I have dinner, she needs dinner. And not Fancy Feast on a plate either. She wants pork chops or pizza or chips or whatever it is that I'm having.

If I go to bed, she needs to go to bed - exactly in the same spot I'm trying to use to sleep. In fact, when I wake up in the morning, I have to check for her before I stretch just so I don't accidentally kick her off the bed.

If I watch TV, she curls up in my lap and watches with me. She's probably the only diehard Grey's Anatomy cat on the block!

If I go out to mow, she stands at the back door, propped up on her hind feet, watching my every move and crying because she's not allowed to come out and join me.

If I take a shower, she sits on the toilet lid and waits (rather impatiently) for me to be done so she can jump in and lick the drain.

If I scrapbook, she runs away with the glue sticks and the paper scraps and then once she's properly lost her treasuer under the washer or behind some piece of furniture, she comes back for more.

And every single time I sit down to blog, you guessed it. She has to help. Sometimes she stands on the keyboard and causes me to create interesting words (so far, no obscenities), but most of the time she just plops in front of the screen and follows the mouse arrow. Do you know how hard it is to read blogs with a cat hoarding the screen?

Nevertheless, I would not trade her for anything - even when she scares her brother and unplugs my internet connection and leaves wads of white fur on my purple bedspread! Because when that purr starts and she looks up with those big blue eyes - it's all over!

Sunday, October 15, 2006

Driving home from Sarah’s wedding yesterday, I found myself reliving some wedding memories from over the years. I’ve been in a lot of weddings – serving in various capacities – but one thing that remains pretty constant for me throughout them is the lack of boredom. There’s always something, it seems, in a Bekah-wedding.

My first ever wedding involvement (that I remember anyway) was when I was about five, and I was a flower girl for the first time. Mom curled my hair and dressed me up in a frilly pink dress and I walked down the aisle on the arm of a handsomely-clad-in-gray ring bearer. I guess I must have done okay in my role, but all I remember was that at the rehearsal, I ended up crying in the corner of some room because the ring bearer made fun of my imaginary dog, Lassie. I’m just so glad I was neither one of our mothers trying to sort out that mess. How do you explain to your son that he shouldn’t make fun of imaginary dogs? How do you explain to your daughter that having such a pet only lends itself to torture from five year old boys? I’m sure I don’t know.

My next wedding was my grand finale as a flower girl – and this time, the wedding was my sister’s. Mom arranged for me to have my hair French braided at a beauty shop near my grandmother’s house, so my other sister drove me there bright and early on wedding day to be all braided up. The hair lady got clear to the end of my rather long hair and discovered she had no ponytail holders. She did have braces, though, so tightly pinching the end of my hair with one hand, she dug a braces-rubber-band out of her purse with her other hand and somehow managed to get that itty bitty thing around a fat wad of hair. It stayed! But what hair lady starts a French braid without checking first for a rubber band?

I think I was wedding-free for a number of years after that, and I’ve already written a whole column about the weekend out in Delaware for my college roommate, Christina’s, wedding. (You know…my dress was too small, then it broke, then my dinner was served at the reception with the produce sticker still on the baked apple, then my next-day lunch got to be a soggy mess in the bottom of a cooler?)

My second bridesmaid attempt was actually uneventful, but then came the wedding where I was the maid of honor. The groom’s brother, who was engaged, was the best man. Somehow, through a turn of events that I clearly missed, I found myself in the following scenario at the reception. I gathered dutifully with all the other single girls for the catching of the bouquet (a tradition I truly hate) and found myself next to the best man’s fiancée. She wasted no time in reminding me of their engagement as a means of “this is mine to catch,” I believe. I was all too happy to let her have it. Much less pressure on me. Not ten minutes later, as I just minded my own business, she stormed through the maze of tables, glared at me so hard that I actually went to blend in with a whole group of people that I didn’t even know, just so that I could hide from her, and ran out the door. I had no idea what that was about, but I soon found out. As I was leaving, the best man asked me out. I said, “Aren’t you engaged?” He said “Well, not anymore.” Can I just say that the bride and groom’s honeymoon was the longest 2 weeks of my life? I had to know if I had wrecked one home at the start of another. The bride assured me that none of it was my fault – although it did make for a good story! (By the way – we never went out, and today he is happily married to someone else!)

And just to carry on the tradition, at the next wedding where I was a bridesmaid, the groom’s brother (best man, you know) happened to be newly divorced. At the reception, I looked up from my plate to find that he and I were the only two members of the wedding party still at the table, and just then, the bride’s Mom walked up to me. Though I know she thought she was being quiet, she said in a loud voice, “What about him? He’s a nice catch! And you’d have a ready made family.” I could tell by the smirk I could see out of the corner of my eye, that he had not missed the comment! I about crawled under the table.

I decided to give up being a bridesmaid. Too much drama. So I took up wedding coordination for a turn. After the ceremony, when the church was almost empty (thank goodness!), and the band played on, I made my way to the front of the sanctuary to blow out the candles at the back of the platform. The platform at our church is made up of movable pieces, which is great for being able to configure things however you want. It’s bad when the aisle runner covers a gaping hole between two angled pieces. I very gracefully fell straight into it in front of the entire band. How humiliating. To follow it up, at the end of the reception, I sat down with the first food I’d seen all day. I had just shoved a giant bite of delicious lemon cake into my mouth when I heard the emcee say, “The bride and groom want to thank Rebekah for all her hard work today – where is she?” I gave my best chipmunk cheek smile and waved.

So I think that about brings us up to yesterday. The day was pretty uneventful, but about 5 minutes before the party walked down the aisle, an usher pulled me aside and said, “So, I hear you used to date the bride’s brother.” I raised my eyebrows – surprised that this information had made its way to him. I nodded and asked why he brought it up. He said, “Oh, I was going to fix him up with the redhead.” (That would be me.) Just then some people showed up and he had to get back to ushering. A couple of minutes later, Matt walked by, so I yanked him aside. “I hear someone was going to fix you up with a cute redhead??” He just laughed. I asked him what happened and he said, “Well, we were all standing around talking and he said that weddings are a good place to find dates, so he was going to find me one. Just then, you walked by and he said, ‘Hey, what about her?’ So I said, ‘Yeah, she’s my ex-girlfriend.’” And that is just one more for the book of Bekah-weddings. An attempted match-making with my own ex-boyfriend.

Sarah's Wedding

The sanctuary was absolutely beautiful!! I took several pictures for my running "remember this" series of pages in the scrapbook.

Sarah - very calm for every moment of the wedding. Her Mom made her dress - what an amazing talent that I can only admire. Even if I learn to sew in a straight line, I think hems will be my limit.

Me - taking a break from errand running!

Today, my friend Sarah got married. She and I have known each other for about seven years now, and her wedding was everything I always knew it would be. Like me, she has known for years exactly the way she wanted her wedding - and I think every dream came true for her today!

I was so impressed with her calm spirit when, five minutes before the seating of the mothers, the minister discovered he did not have the vows! She very calmly arrived in the hall, fully in her wedding attire, handed off her bouquet, and told us she just needed internet access and she would print off the vows! Fortunately, one of the ministers was running the sound booth (her officiating minister was not from the church where she was married) and he let her into his office to print out the vows. No Bridezilla for us today! She was the picture of cool!

I was her personal attendant and spent the day picking up flowers and cakes, pinning on flowers (without sticking anyone, thankyouverymuch), running messages around, tracking down extra bobby pins, and trying to snap a picture here and there. Here's just a few of the ones I got!

P'stomachs and P'livers

I'm back to rumor quenching. It seems to be my new Friday activity. Last Friday I tried to turn the rumor mill about my dad into a fact mill by letting you know that he does have cancer, but that it's contained and his upcoming surgery should be the end of this episode.

HOWEVER. It has come to our attention that the type of cancer he has is still in rumor form. So today I'm here to set the record straight. Dad has prostate cancer. This is not to be confused with prostrate, which is not a form of cancer, but how angels fall.

Mom called a few days ago to say that she'd heard it was rumored that he had a much more threatening form of cancer...one that also started with a P, but she couldn't remember what it was. I suggested perhaps the p'stomach or the p'lung or even the p'liver, but she didn't think those were right. But alas, this week I heard the rumor myself - and the incorrect story circulating is that he has pancreatic cancer. That is not true.

So I believe I've set it all straight now. If you have questions - feel free to ask. I probably don't know the answer, but I sure can find out for you!

Catching up with the Littlefields

While I was out in Kansas a couple of weeks ago, I had the opportunity to catch up with Fred and Naomi Littlefield who were my pastors several years ago. I think they came to our church when I was about a fifth grader and stayed until maybe my freshman or sophomore year of high school.

I loved the years that they served at our church. Naomi took me under her wing and helped me adjust in those painfully awkward years. She cheered me on as I took a step to join the church choir, she supported my initiative to start teaching the kids during our midweek service, she loved to see me work in the nursery, and she backed me up when I wanted to join the handbell choir. Where other pastor's wives might have told me I was too young or I needed to do things with kids my age - she pushed me to try new experiences and keep doing the things that inspired my heart.

My freshman year of high school (I think) - my parents took me to a county-wide meeting for the churches in our denomination. I thought the trip odd, because we didn't usually attend those. I sat in the back of the service and scribbled away probably on an old bulletin. Suddenly I realized the man at the front was in the middle of giving away an award and the activities of the person being described sounded remarkably familiar. A moment later, my name was called, and I had to walk to the front of the church to receive a certificate. I had no idea what to say or do - the whole thing was a shock to me!

The award was a leadership award for youth in the denomination. Most of the recipients had been in upper high school or college. I was the youngest one (to that point) to be nominated. And Naomi had nominated me. As she sat in the other services and heard the achievements of the others, she decided I was doing just as much as they were and there was no reason why I shouldn't get that award. I still have the certificate I received that night - and a beautiful memory of a pastor's wife who believed in me.

And Pastor Fred - he was a great preacher. It was under his preaching that I first started taking notes in church (no small feat!) - and I still have much of it hidden away for reference. He had such a loving heart for everyone in his congregation, and I thought the world of him.

I'd not seen either of them since they moved away to pastor another church, and it was so wonderful to get to see them both again. Mom and Jeff and I sat in their living room and Naomi served us the most delicious punch with little flowered napkins - always the hostess she is.

Sunday, October 8, 2006

This is Miss Braeya back in June, the first night I brought her home.

This is Mr. Kaegan last March on his fifth birthday.

Kids are awfully cute. This morning I was standing in church, just singing away, when I felt a tap on my elbow. I looked over to see if someone was trying to get in my pew but there was no one there. That was odd. I definitely felt a tap. So I looked down, down, down…way down…and there stood Ben. Four-year-olds are on a much shorter eye level. He’d been sitting a couple of pews back with his mom and decided he wanted to take a break and come up to visit me for a song or two. I rescued him from a nose-picking adventure and we looked at a few pictures of Savannah and Liam that were passed up the rows of pews from their mom to me. Then he was done and ready to go back to his home pew.

Just a little minute – but just a cute one. Ben’s fun. I love it when he comes over with his mom and brother. She and I watch TV and Ben and Isaiah run around the house, chasing the cats and dumping all the toys out of the green laundry basket. Last week when they were over, Ben yelled for me to come upstairs where he parked on my bed to watch Nickelodeon on the little TV. I hurried up there to see if anything was wrong. He was stretched out in the middle of the king size bed, propped up on all the pillows, hands behind his head and his legs crossed with a blanket nearby, just in case. I asked if something was wrong and he just smiled and said with great wonder in his voice – “There was a Hot Wheel on TV!” J

Most of my friends have kids, and I am Aunt Bekah to more non-related kids than I am to my own flesh and blood. I have my own car seat, a stack of toys, books, sidewalk chalk, and crayons…and I have a wish list of other things it might be handy to have around, like a high chair, pack-n-play, and stroller. If it weren’t for the kids and their adventures at my house, my scrapbooks would be half as thick as they are. But I wouldn’t trade any of it.

However, I do have to say, there are times when it’s awkward to only be the aunt and to not have kids of my own. Maybe someday I will have my own – but until then, I have had to find a way to make a place in a world full of talk of potty-training, safe toys, sippy cups, the appropriate order of food introduction, and a host of other conversations. Most things I have an opinion on. And in most of them, I seem to stand alone. But I can’t say anything because I’m not a mom. And for those of you who are non-moms with me, you know the cardinal rule is to keep your mouth shut because if you’re not a mom, you really don’t know what you’re talking about.

This week I emailed my best friend about a very random subject, which led us to talk about her college roommate. Lynnette caught me up on what was happening in Susan’s life and said to me, “She’s a pet mom like us.” My eyes lit up at that statement! Sure, Susan lives three states away and I haven’t talked to her since Lynnette’s wedding. But we have a new thing in common! We’re pet moms!

Lynnette and I began discussing the way pet moms should stick together just like moms of humans do. In fact, we decided to start our own group. You’re familiar with MOPS? (Mothers of Pre-Schoolers?) We’re going to start a MOP group – Mothers of Pets. And in fact, we’re going to call the original group MOHPS – Mothers of Human Pre-Schoolers.

While other moms get together to discuss the enormous unfairness of their kids only wearing shoes for two weeks before outgrowing them, we will discuss the greater unfairness of the loss of one corner of a favorite shoe to a naughty puppy. While MOHPS swap ideas of how to con their HPS’s into eating enough vegetables, we MOP’s will swap strange stories of why a cat will beg pork chop bites and then promptly snub a warm, soft French fry. Moms will carefully think out a plan to determine how much time per day their kids will be allowed to watch TV – and what shows are on the approved list. We will turn the TV on as we leave the house so the poor lil guys have some company while we’re out!

Kids are cute – very cute. And maybe someday Lynnette and I will each join the ranks of MOHPS. But in the meantime, we’re thrilled to have our own group going. A group where we fit in with the faithful few who have, for the time being, limited the parenting skills to the pet arena. So Lynnette, pet-mom of Belle, and I, pet-mom of Kaegan and Braeya, proudly launch our own club!

Rumors

Well I've gotten enough phone calls now to know that the rumor mill is up and running at full speed. So in case you're a wonderer who hasn't wanted to ask, I'll just go ahead and answer your questions for you.

My Dad has cancer. He found out on September 12th and has spent these past few weeks having tests, talking to other people who have walked this road before, and praying about which of the presented options to take.

The bone scan and CAT scan revealed that the cancer is contained - it has not spread to his bones or lymph nodes. For that, we are very thankful! That was an enormous relief to him - and to all of us. After being offered options of surgery, some sort of treatment implantation (this would be why I was a writing major rather than a pre-med major), and radiation, he has decided to go the surgery route.

His surgery is scheduled for November 3rd. He is very optimistic about the success of the surgery and his recovery. He's never requested to keep this news a secret - his opinion is that every person who knows could be another person praying! Because of that, and because I love my Dad and want the biggest possible praying army working for him, I wanted to contribute to the rumor mill. Turn it into a fact mill. And a praying mill.

Sunday, October 1, 2006

Well, this week was huge in Bekahland. Most of you know that I went on vacation and in fact – flew for the first time. If you are one of the ones who didn’t know that, I’ll give you just a moment to reattach your jaw. I know, I know. Bekah flew? Shocking.

I flew out to Kansas to watch my niece play volleyball. She is a junior in high school and this was the first time I’ve ever been able to watch her play any sport. It was a great time – she played three matches (or whatever they’re called) in one night and won all three of them, so that was great to be able to see!

Mom had the distinct pleasure of flying out to Kansas with me to watch Miss Cassie play. The distinct pleasure part was in being able to share my first flying experience. If you were to write her, she may have other words to describe it. I’ll leave that to her.

Before I get to my point for the week, let me just tell you my initial reactions to flying. Not only had I never flown, but I’d also never been in a plane or seen a plane in person (other than from the inside of an airport), so this was my first trip down that shaky fake hallway and into the plane. I was in front of Mom when we boarded the first plane, and the moment I stepped inside, I stopped in my tracks and thought (hopefully not out loud) You’ve got to be stinking kidding me. THIS is a plane? The one on Lost was so much bigger!!! This was just a little two-seats, one-aisle, two-more seats adventure. So I sat down by the window and started praying. I wanted to listen to the stash of music I’d brought to coach me through the experience, but they made us put away all electronic devices.

So instead, I was forced to rely on my memory of music. Somewhere from the recesses of my brain, I pulled out the lyrics to an old Gaither Vocal Band song…Jesus, I believe what You said You’ll do…Jesus, I believe You really love me…Jesus, I believe You really care…Jesus, I believe You died to save me…and at the crossing, You’ll be there...Oooh. No. Time for a different song.

We had the most hysterical flight attendant on that plane. His name was Collin and he did not buy into the traditional “Exits are here, here here,” two finger pointing business that I see mimicked on TV. He just kind of gave us the general rundown of the rules. I was familiar with the way the oxygen masks work, as I vividly remembered the crash scene from Lost when they fell from the ceiling before Oceanic Flight whatever it is fell from the sky. Anyway. At the end of his speech, Collin said, “The bathroom is located at the rear of the plane. It’s tiny, folks. We tried to save space by holding back on paint and wallpaper, but I don’t think it helped. I recommend deciding what you want to do before you go in and then back in or walk in as appropriate and don’t change your mind once you’re in there, because there’s no room to turn around.” He definitely eased my flying jitters!! (Not to mention that he gave me a certificate and a chance to go into the cockpit – after we landed – to meet the pilot and co-pilot.)

On the last flight home, Mom and I sat on the left side of the plane for the first time in this journey, and I was smack in between the wing and that little swirly engine thing. (Another vivid memory of Lost – that first episode where the guy gets sucked into the engine right after the crash. What a bummer! Live through the crash and get sucked into a jet engine two minutes later!) So while I tried to keep my mind and eyes OFF that thought, God took the opportunity to teach me a little lesson.

It was pretty overcast, as we were headed straight into a storm, but a few times, I was able to see the ground clearly. I wondered how many hundreds of miles I was able to see from my vantage point. Little pin-size dots were houses, I knew. Cars were too small to see and roads were like thin threads stretched out everywhere. I’d look at one cluster of houses and then another that from where I sat seemed to be only a foot or two apart. I wondered how many miles separated them really.

I’m in the middle of this 30 day faith growing experiment that God has sent my way, and He is so good to remind me of my faith and how it needs to be grown and stretched. And that day, He showed me how different things look from a new vantage point. Down on earth, so many miles might separate the people in those housing clusters that they might never know each other. To see each other might require great effort and much time. Yet from where I sat, it seemed much easier. The obstacles of roads and mountains and rivers were nothing from my point of view.

And God reminded me that’s how it is with Him. In all these areas of my life that He’s working in right now, I have no idea how He plans to accomplish some tasks. They seem impossible or issue-laden to me. But from where God sits, there’s not a thing in the way that He can’t easily fix. I just have to trust the way He sees things.

Flying was fun. I am not ready to trade in an office job in favor of the drink cart down the narrow aisle. I would fly again – although I’d prefer to wait until my ear unplugs and my head cold clears up. Perhaps that would make it just a tiny bit more comfortable. I had a great time watching Cassie play and would love to see her more! But I have to say that nothing compared to that little lesson that God shared with me on the flight home when I sat between the wing and the engine.

Friday Favorite #8

I am a candle-maniac. I love them. I think my true addiction to them started after college when I was just so excited to be able to burn them after the anti-candle dorm rules. Plus, I'm a total cheap-skate with the electricity bill in the winter, so burning candles and baking cookies are my primary sources of heat.

Today I went to Wal-Mart and loaded up on fall scents of candles. I came home, decorated the whole house with all the fall flowers and pumpkins and then I put those candles here, there, and everwhere. Even though I've had a cold this week and my nose is only functioning partway, I'm loving the fall spicy scents running through the house.

I'm a homebody at heart, so even though i appreciate a good Friday night out with friends, I also appreciate a good night at home with a cup of chai, a good movie, some books and magazines, and the glow of candles burning everywhere!!

Sunday, September 24, 2006

Last week I told you about my retreat and some of the lessons that God taught me about faith. There was so much more to the weekend than a duck and some candy, though. Here are some other things I learned.

The first day, before the retreat even started, I sat on the pier with my feet dangling in the rather chilly water. It was such a warm day, though, that the cold water felt good lapping over my feet. I was content to stop with my feet, however. I had no desire to be as bold as the couple behind me who actually donned bathing suits and went swimming. But as I sat there, I thought of the old Cathedrals song…Step into the water…wade out a little bit deeper…

It was just a little moment where I was laughing at my southern gospel overload coming back to get me, but God actually brought that moment back to me the next day when I parked under the tree and sat for two hours just listening and learning.

The morning started with a pretty spectacular sunrise – one of the very few I’ve seen in life. Sunsets, I’m all about. Sunrises – well, they’re pretty. If only they came later in the day!

By the time breakfast and our first session had ended and I was back by the water, the brilliant orange sunrise had also gone, but the sun still shone over the waters of the lake. A thousand sparkles glittered in the far reaches of the water…or was it more like a million? I sat there staring at them as they twinkled and fishing boats drifted over top of them. It was like God had opened the gates on the jewel-house of Heaven and poured out all of the finest just for me to see that day. Just a very sweet reminder of His love.

When I looked beyond them, though, toward the other shore of the lake, I realized I couldn’t see it. Though the sun shone, it was a hazy morning there on the water. I squinted, trying to see a large building that I knew stood just across from where I sat. If I studied hard, I could see the outline of the building. But all the detail of its magnificence was lost in the haze.

Just about then, I turned back to my Bible and found myself in Ephesians 5. A verse said, “Therefore do not be foolish, but understand what the Lord’s will is.” I wrote in my journal, God, Your will is about as clear to me right now as that big building across the lake. I know it’s there, but I can barely see it through the haze. Maybe that’s the point. Maybe it’s enough to know that Your will is there and to trust You to remove the haze when the time is right and I need to see it. Any time before then – it doesn’t matter. Maybe the biggest part of understanding Your will is understanding that it’s YOURS. The haze that shrouds the details will leave only when You’re good and ready for it to.

A breeze kicked up just about then and the water really started to rise and fall beneath its power. I looked out to see waves reach up and then collapse into a valley and even out – and then the process began all over again. I wrote, Fill me up with You just like You filled up this lake with water. And whether this water rises or falls with the wind, there is still water. Let me be so filled with You that whether I have a rush of the Spirit or a dry time, I still have You.

And then came the reminder – of the day before – of stepping into the water. About the will thing, God. Looking out over this lake – it’s just so big. The only way to get from here to there is go get in it. Step into the water. Wade out a little bit deeper. And I bet that as I get closer to the center, I could more clearly see what is across the way.
I am not really any closer to knowing God’s long-term will for my life today than I was that day on the lake. But it was such an eye-opening experience for me, because it taught me that I don’t have to know the whole thing right now. I only have to know the part I can see. And I have to be willing to step out into water that might be cold and deep and big. But just imagine what amazing thing might be on the other side of it!!!

Friday Favorite #7

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Fall shows are back. All is right in the world of schedules. :) And last night I enjoyed my first season premiere. I should say that I really don't have too many shows that I must see. But one that is on the must-see list is Grey's Anatomy.

I didn't mean to start watching it - I think I saw the first episode because I stuck around after Desperate Housewives when it first premiered. But I am hooked now - even though it's moved to a new night and I hate that.

The writers of the show post a blog on ABC's site - and I think that has contributed to why I like the show so much. I see what they put into it and how they struggle over it, and it just makes me love the show all the more knowing that the writers are cheering for their characters and hate it just as much as I do when something bad has to happen. (That's just the writer in me. You certainly don't have to think that hard about it if you don't want to.)

And of course - who couldn't love McDreamy or George? I liked George better before the great haircut disaster of season 2. But I still love George - regardless of the hair. And McDreamy. I almost missed a whole scene of dialogue last night just staring at his pearly whites and melting.

I cried when Dylan exploded. I bawled endlessly when Denney died. I've decided a name starting with D is bad luck on that show.

I'm not a fan of Callie or Addison - but if they left, so would the drama, so I know they have to stay.

Can't wait to find out what this season holds. It seems like there are as many careers on the line as love lives - and even in that - I want to know who stays and who goes. And how everyone stays even if they go.

So if you're bored on Thursday nights at 9 - make your way to ABC. And take your Kleenex box.

I MADE IT!!! - Day Thirty

That is code for "the greatest of these is love." Thirty days of focusing on love. Thirty days of learning to live a life consciously centered around loving others. Thirty days of retraining a mind mostly centered on self and ick...before.

I have to admit it wasn't an easy day. One time I found myself wallowing in a pity party when someone wasn't giving me the attention I thought I deserved. But I quickly reminded myself that it's not about me. I had to catch myself mid-eyeroll on a few occasions and remember that people's quirks are part of their charm - and I need to cut them some slack.

And at the end of the day, I have to say I was quite put out. I'm a girl who likes to live based on principle. And at the end of today, I found out one more of my carefully crafted principles had been shot down the tubes. I hate it when those things are out of my control and I am forced to succumb to someone else's rules. And on the walk to my car this evening, I had to sternly lecture myself on not letting myself become all uptight...easily angered, in fact??...over this unimportant-in-the-grand-scheme-of-life situation.

The greatest of these is love. The greatest goal is to love. To love God first and then to love everyone around me - whether they fit into my principles or not.

I'm not perfect at this (clearly). And I know that there will be many times in the days to come when it won't be my first nature to love. It may not even be my second or third. But, to go back to Jaena's admonition from the early days, I am very excited to see the changes in my heart since I did this 30 day experiment. I'm excited that I think about what I'm doing wrong WHILE I'm doing it instead of three days later. I think it's great that I'm beginning to stop the unloving behavior actually before it starts. I'm a work in progress...but I'm getting there.

I remember in some of those first days, I really thought I would not make it to this point. I thought I would surely die. And I haven't. I don't intend to give up the love now that the appointed time has passed. And it will seem odd to not report on it daily.

Would I take the challenge all over again? Of course!! If only I could be allowed to wait until the bold faith experiment is done..............

Hope - Day Twenty-Nine

I thought a lot about hope today. I hope I don't oversleep so that I can get up in time for a Wal-Mart run before work. I hope it's almost lunch time so I can eat. I hope it's almost five because I've had all I can take. I hope that phone number on the caller ID isn't who I think it is. I hope Bible study goes well and something said touches someone's heart. I hope I don't get the flu bug that I hear is going around. I hope I remember to tape Good Morning America tomorrow so that I can hear Clay sing. I hope Jo Ellen Hummel can keep those triplets inside just a few more days so they have more time to develop. I hope...the secret faith walk that I'm on with God...

That's a lotta hoping!

But this is my observation about hope. In each instance, regardless of how big or how small - how significant or how stupid those hopes were, something happened. I paid attention to how many times I hit snooze. I worked hard on a project so I didn't have to watch the minutes tick by until the lunch hour arrived. I stopped looking at the clock so I couldn't see how slowly it moved to the end of the day. I answered the phone so I could see if my worst fear was coming true (and it was). I studied a little harder for Bible study. I'm a little more careful about watching my hands. I wrote a note to set the VCR. I prayed for Jo Ellen and the babies. And you can believe I banged on Heaven's door about that faith business.

I did something. Hope drove me to action. And whether or not the result was as I wished for, the sheer hope made me try.

My faith makes me believe things are possible. My hope spurs me to do whatever I can to bring me closer to the possibility. Sometimes there's not much I can do - but if there's anything at all that can be done, hope is what pushes me to do it.

And how does that help me love? As long as I have hope in people, there's a reason to love them. As long as I have hope that my friendships will grow deeper and more loving, I'll keep reaching out and trying my best in those friendships. As long as I have hope that someone can change, I can keep loving freely. And in the moments when I lose hope, God can come through with a fresh supply if I'm willing to ask.

Several years ago (okay, four), Max Lucado wrote a book called A Love Worth Giving. I probably should have abandoned my own deciphering of this chapter in favor of a re-read of that book. It's based on 1 Corinthians 13, and Max says most things better than I could even hope to think them. But as I pondered hope this evening, I remembered a quote from that book, so I dug it out of the tightly-wedged line on the shelf (time to expand the bookcase collection!!) to see the exact words.

"Hope is an olive leaf - evidence of dry land after a flood. Proof to the dreamer that dreaming is worth the risk." (p. 140) It's a great quote, but I have to admit that ordinarily I would not have remembered it. The only reason I do is because we studied this book in our Sunday School class, and on the Sunday we studied this chapter, our teacher arrived in class carrying Savannah. Savannah was just a few months old at the time - maybe five or six. And Pam sat there with Savannah on her lap and said to us that this little baby was God's olive leaf of hope to a family who had been flooded by grief when their first baby died. And out of that grief - out of that loss, God sent an olive leaf of hope - and olive leaf named Savannah.

Savannah is four now - and Sunday night proudly displayed her newfound talent of blowing up balloons. She handed me the slobbery, slimy balloon and said "You wanna try?" Uh, no thanks baby. You can keep it.

Tonight at Bible study, I looked across the room at her little brother. He's about that same age that she was when she became the Sunday School illustration, and he looks just like she did. (I can say this because he's 5 months old. When he's 15, we won't bring up that little detail.) And staring into his eyes and seeing his silly grin that so resembles the one she used to give me...I remembered that olive leaf of hope statement that Max made.

Sometimes hope is just that - a tiny olive leaf. It's not a forest or even a tree. It's just one leaf. But that one leaf can keep me going - keep me loving.

Faith - Day Twenty Eight

Alright. I've been telling you about the bold faith experiment without really telling you about the bold faith experiment. Last Monday night, I came home from an exhauasting two-day adventure of RUNNING. I had come home from my retreat Saturday night and within an hour had overnight company. I was thrilled about that - but being the Martha that I am, I had to whip up brownies and clean up clutter and...and...and. Then Sunday afternoon, between morning and evening church, I rushed around madly setting up a prayer partner group for our ladies at church and preparing the evening service - a special one just for the ladies. Then promptly upon arriving home from THAT service, I had to begin preparing for the first round of Ladies Bible Study which began last Monday night. So by the time I got home Monday night, I was pooped. I fell into bed with a Pampered Chef catalog and realized that was the first rest I'd seen since my weekend of amazing rest.

I'd just begun to drift off to sleep when God woke me up. I tried to argue that I was sleepy, but I've learned not to do that. He seemed urgent. He reminded me of my pastor's sermon the day before - about faith. About bold faith. Yes, I remembered it. Couldn't He see the page of notes I took?

Immediately He planted in my heart something to pray about. It seemed ridiculous. I rolled my eyes. But He prodded again. What??? Why should I pray about that? It's too bizarre. Get up and pray. And in fact...not only get up now and pray, but pray for 30 days. WHAT?? I'm in the middle of another 30 day experiment!! I'm going to have to quit my job to make time for experimentation! But the feeling only got stronger. So I crawled out of bed, rummaged through the closet for a new composition book to make as a journal for the 30 day expeiment. And I uttered my first prayer about it. I am pretty sure I blushed during it, because it just seemed crazy.

But I'm telling you, every day for the last week, that has been the first thing on my mind in the morning and the last thing floating through my head at night. And literally dozens of times during the day, there the challenge goes.

Yesterday I found myself begging God for the situation to be resolved. I was in full-force pleading status and God stopped me in my tracks. This 30 day experiment is not about begging. It's about believing. And I have to learn in my heart that there is a difference. God wants to see if I have enough faith to believe that this totally outlandish, impossible, crazy idea could actually take place. And let me tell you - it's so out there, that it would have to be a God thing if it actually happened.

But for the next twenty-something days, I'm pressing forward in prayers of bold faith, proclaiming God's ability to do the impossible. I am growing my faith.

What does any of this have to do with love? Well, the end of the chapter says that these three remain: faith, hope, and love. And I think that in my life of loving other people, there are going to be times when the only way I can love them is if my faith is big enough to let God change me into a loving person. Or into the loving person that they need at that time. My love is pointless if it's not rooted in a great big faith in a Great Big God.

Sunday, September 17, 2006

Last weekend I went on a retreat. It seems like so much longer ago than just last weekend, as you may have read in my most recent posts about love.

The weekend was amazing – the perfect pick-me-up in between a couple of stressful weeks. But beyond the time of rest that it was – it was a time of learning. So I thought I would share with you some of what I learned. There’s too much to pack it all into this week, but maybe I’ll write about it again next week.

One of the big lessons that God taught me that weekend was about faith. I had no idea that promptly upon my return from the retreat, He was going to send me on a bold faith experiment that I can’t even fully explain to you because I don’t fully understand what it entails. But there were a couple of moments that weekend that were about faith and knowing what it means to be provided for by a loving God.

Marie and I went up to the retreat early so that we could spend some time by the water before everyone arrived. We got to the grounds about 2 in the afternoon, dumped off our stuff and headed straight for the water. We were out there a while, journaling…soaking up the sun…splashing our feet in the water…and trying to figure out the mysterious couple hanging out nearby.

Because of my unusually large breakfast that morning, I’d skipped lunch, so by about 3:30, I was ready for some food. I hadn’t brought any snacks, and dinner wasn’t for a couple of hours. I whined around on the pier, so finally, Marie and I decided to see if the gift shop carried food. We pooled our pitiful collection of pocket change for a bag of microwave popcorn and headed to the vending machine room to pop it.

The bag overheated and caught on fire. While we waved at the air and watched the sad stream of smoke rise from the smoldering bag, my tummy rumblings grew louder. I was just so hungry! We headed back to our room and while we fished around for more money, I caught a glimpse of an unfamiliar black bag resting at the foot of each of our beds. “Marie, look! Someone was here!” I grabbed the bag, which bore the women’s ministry logo from the church – and I tore through it. Inside there were bags of candy!!!

I didn’t even think twice. I looked up and said, “It’s Jesus candy!! He heard me say I was hungry!!” We dug around more to find what other treasures were hidden inside and found a keychain in each bag. Mine was purple, and hers was pink. If you know the two of us, you know that I’m the purple girl and she’s the pinkster! It couldn’t have been more perfect. And aside from the way the candy corn and Hershey kisses calmed the hunger pangs, I knew that God was looking out for me. He cared enough to send food – chocolate, no less – to a hungry girl who lost her popcorn to a microwave mishap.

The next morning, during the prayer-walk time, I sat on the edge of the lake and listened as God shared with me so many things I needed to know. Some of them are things that I may not even know yet why I need to know, but they’re in the reserve of my mind for whenever the moment arrives.

While I sat by the lake, the water began to lap from a swell somewhere out in the deeper waters. Then the wind caught hold of it and it began to splash in earnest up near the shore. I thought about the old illustration I’d heard when I was a kid about how the wind is an example of God at work. You can’t see the wind, but you can see what it does, so you believe it exists. And so it is with God…

So as I thought about that, I noticed a lone duck floating by the spot where I’d parked to learn. I wrote in my journal, The duck swimming by just floats atop the water – even when a bigger wave swells, it sits calmly, able to take whatever it is that comes its way. I know, I know. Under the water where you can’t see, it’s kicking ferociously. But all I could see was the calm duck riding atop the wave. When the water kicked up, it rode with it. When the water dipped, it didn’t freak out. It just continued to ride the wave.

I’m a freaker outer. I have lessons to learn from a duck. I need to learn to sit and ride the waves and dips.

But that wasn’t the end of the lesson for me. I realized, after the duck was safely under the pier on his way to wherever he was going…that I forgot to take a picture of him!! I have to do a scrapbook page of my weekend and all I learned. I’d just learned something huge from a duck and I forgot to photograph him!

I know it sounds crazy, but I started praying for another duck to swim by. I waited and waited and began to think the duck I’d seen was some angel-duck who had vanished into thin air leaving behind no family or friends. And then several minutes later, after I moved out to the pier, a duck swam by. I grabbed the camera and started taking pictures.

My faith was too small. I had given up hope that any other ducks swam the waters of Lake Wawasee that day. But just as God sent candy to my hungry tummy, He sent a duck for my scrapbook page. And in those things, I began to learn that if God can do that, no task is too small, too big, or too ridiculous.

It All Boils Down to This - Day Twenty Seven

I can't believe I'm at the end of the chapter already. Moreover (does anyone use that word anymore?) I can't believe it took me an entire month (almost) to get through a chapter. My guess is that this is why my yearlong commitment to read through the Bible in the said amount of time is NOT GOING WELL. It's all I can do to get through the daily portions. I get little out of it. But reading 13 verses in 30 days would take me...a long time...to make it through the whole Bible.

The last verse of the chapter...another famous one. "And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love." Just finished days of thinking about all the things that won't stick around forever. And now I have a reminder of the things that were here, are here, and will be here for all of time. And that list can be narrowed down to three words. Faith, hope, and love.

Earlier tonight I was watching the best of Jeff and Sheri Easter on TV. (That would be a new Gaither video, for those of you not familiar.) Sheri wrote a song that I absolutely love, and it's called "She Loved." Makes me cry every time I hear it. The idea of the song is to get you to think about what you'd want others to remember about you when you're gone. Sheri said when she was making her mental list of such things, every item began with "She loved." It boils down to love.

Faith, hope, and love. If you have those but don't have anything else...you're still okay. Because when all is said and done - if you have faith and live in hope and act on love - you're set.

I was just looking at this study note in my Life Application Bible, and it says, "Faith is the foundation and content of God's message; hope is the attitude and focus; love is the action."

What a perfect way to round out the last three days of this experiment! Three days, and three of the greatest things. These days will be my conclusion.

Friday Favorite #6

Last Friday I left for a church retreat (I went with another church....gasp...traitor!) and had an amazing weekend. I was so stressed out from work that I was literally forgetting to breathe at times. I had two big ministry beginnings at my own church this past Sunday and Monday. I was in desperate need of a time and place to move away from home, chores, work, phones, TV, stress, all of it.

See, that's my problem. I rarely vacation away from home, and whenever I am home, I'm checking work email and voicemail and popping into the office every five minutes. I can't stay away unless I am away.

So I went away.

And that place is my next Friday Favorite. We went to the Oakwood Inn on Lake Wawasee. That is a beautiful place to be. The water is beautiful and the Inn is just amazing. The room I had looked out over the lake and the sunrise - just a breathtaking view. The grounds are so peaceful - so many places to walk and enjoy beauty and see others - yet be so alone.

I had an opportunity to go up early before the retreat started and just go sit on the pier, listen to the water lapping, soak my feet, enjoy lessons and chats with God - it was wonderful. The food was great, the bed was comfy, and aside from a near mishap with an overheated popcorn bag and a microwave, the weekend was perfect.

So if you're looking for a place to get away - I highly recommend Oakwood. Here's their site if you want to check it out! http://www.oakwoodinn.org/

Comforting Thoughts - Day Twenty Six

I'm going to be in so much trouble by the time I'm done with this experiment, because some fully qualified, knowledgeable theologian is going to hunt me down an tell me everything I've processed incorrectly as I've thought about love and this chapter over the last 26 days. But I've tried to be honest all along that I'm NOT a theologian and I know it. I don't claim to be, I don't pretend to be, and truthfully, I don't want to be.

All I know are the bits and pieces of love-learning that have stuck out to me in this almost-month. And that is what I, in turn, share with you.

Today I thought about this part of the chapter: Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. I got stuck on the last little phrase there. I am fully known. This week it has been a great comfort to me that God knows me completely. He knows what a crazy emotional wreck I can be, and He also knows exactly how to comfort me in my moments of wreckage. He knows how to love me better than anyone else. And I love the ways that this week, He has put a tangible spin on that love.

Tuesday, I desperately needed a hug. I was headed for the bathroom at work, hoping that I wouldn't start crying until I got there. And when I arrived, tears still on hold, there stood a friend of mine. And after one look at the dam about to burst on my face, she reached out her arms and gave me a great big hug. I went back to my office and prayed that God would send a specific friend to me - and not ten minutes later, she stood in my doorway. The next day, I prayed for an email - from someone, anyone - to be waiting in my inbox when I turned on the computer. And one sat there, just as I needed. Chocolate arrived in droves that day - both from those who knew my need and those who didn't. Wow...thanks God! I am fully known - and He knew exactly what I needed that day.

The other key to this verse is that I don't know fully. I am still waiting on that opportunity to come to pass in my life. But it will happen. In the meantime, though, I can rest assured that God knows me and loves me completely.

I'm at the beginning of another experiment too - one that I'll probably be writing about tomorrow. It's a lot of work - just like this love one has been. It's a different kind of work. More of a heart work. But tonight I feel ready to keep going with it too, knowing that the God Who knows me fully would not ask me to take it on if He did not know (KNOW - not think) I'm capable.

Ultimate Love - The Ultimate Reward - Day Twenty Five

Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. I wonder what it will be like to look Love in the Face. I think we’ll all be surprised.

Being the “such a girl” that I am – being the lover of a good love story – love is on my mind a lot. And I think that for as many books as I’ve read on the subject…for as often as I’ve written about it…for as much as I’ve studied it in the context of the Bible…I have no idea what TRUE love is. And I don’t think anyone else does either. I think it is so big, that like eternity, we won’t be able to wrap our minds around it until we’re there.

I’ve loved a lot in my life. Don’t confuse that with being IN love. I’ve been there too – but not a lot. But I love many people. And as deeply and loyally as I love them – I have to think that it’s just barely a love compared to what could really be.

Again – I’m not a theologian. But I have to think that there is an invisible word in this verse. It’s like the implied “you” in “Come here.” I think it means Now we see but a poor reflection of love as in a mirror; then we shall see Love face to face. I think we have a lot to learn about love and until we see it embodied, we won’t get it the way that God intends for us to get it.

This whole section of this chapter is just one big reminder that this is not the end all of love. There is a lot to love – so many facets. And we have to work on achieving them daily. But there’s also that reminder that no matter how hard we work – no matter how much we achieve – it’s not over until it’s over. And it won’t be over until we’re in Heaven.

I think that in a way, it’s an exciting reward to look forward to. We who are faithful and hang in there and keep pursuing…we get to experience Love at its fullest. We finally get the last piece of the puzzle. That is an exciting thing to look forward to! Gives me reason to keep pressing on when this seems too hard.

Growing Up is Hard to Do - Day Twenty Four

Yesterday I allowed myself a pity party. For one day. I figure when you get tough news, the best thing to do is absorb. Once you’ve done that, you need to get on with it. So yesterday was my day of absorption. I cried. I got mad. I wallowed. I cried some more. I ate. I forced myself to keep going, but I really didn’t care how quality my existence was.

When I woke up this morning, I had a crying hangover. I hate that. My eyes still burned and my head felt foggy. But a good round of Starbucks will clear all that right up. So after a couple of hours out of bed, I was ready to be perky and pleasant again. I sternly lectured myself about refusing to fall BACK into self-pity.

That makes me think of this next verse in the Great Love Assignment of 2006. “When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me.” It’s a growing up process. Growing up in love. I’ve learned a lot in the last 24 days. I’ve been retraining my mind to think more loving thoughts. Yesterday I didn’t try. And because I let go of that discipline yesterday – even for just a 24 hour reprieve – today it was hard to get back in the habit.

I said unkind things. I opened my mouth when it should have stayed shut. I had to clap my hand over my mouth to cover muttered comments more than I should have. I slapped my steering wheel in the Wal-Mart parking lot. And my compassion lacked. And each time I had to catch myself in the act of not loving, I shook my head. One day did this to me? One day of relaxing?

I guess we’re born with the dominant unloving gene. That’s why when we’re kids, we think and talk and reason like them. But as we grow up and learn what is right, we have to consciously put what is natural behind us. And instead, we have to live in love.

That has been what this experiment has been about for me. Conscious decision. It’s a decision to study this chapter, to think about what it means for me, and then to put it into practice. Every day I have to think about it. And when I stopped – even for a day – I fell right back into old habits.

Scary that one day can do that. But it’s a good thing to learn now. I guess it’s like a diet – for those who have to follow a certain eating plan for their health. Even one day off the plan can have major repercussions. Like a diabetic. What if she threw the sugar rules to the wind and ate everything in sight for a day? I’m not a nurse (I only play one in advertisements). I have no idea what would happen to her. But something would. That’s why diabetics have to stick to a plan.

And so do I. This may be the Great Love Assignment of 2006, but boy is it ever about to be a lifestyle for 2006 and beyond!!

Just an Idea - Day Twenty Three

I gotta be honest. I have no idea what this phrase actually means. “For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when perfection comes, the imperfect disappears.” I mean I know what it means, but I’m not sure how that ties in to love. I’ve been thinking about it all day – at least in the parts of the day when I had brain cells.

Today was a tough day. Days when you get bad news are tough days. Days when you want to know the full scale of answers but you can't are tough days. That was today. So in light of that, I know what it means to me to “know in part.” To me it means that I can only see this tiny corner of a picture. Did I mention tiny?

But how does it tie in to love? Maybe it means all these things we do – the things that will eventually be gone – are just part of the picture. We pour a lot of energy into them now, but they’re just temporary. We do the best we can, but we aren’t perfect. Eventually we will be, though. When that happens, we can love perfectly.

Maybe it means to love despite the missing knowledge. I had trouble with "the list" of the chapter today because I was so focused on what was going on in my head. I wasn't very kind or patient with others because I couldn't look that far away from myself to extend grace to others. But maybe part of the journey is learning to show love while only being able to "know in part."

Maybe this is my “out” for pushing myself to levels I can’t attain. I demand a lot of myself. I demand perfect love. But truthfully, I don’t know how to love perfectly. I can’t know. It’s not available information to me at this point in my life. But someday it will be. And then I can be held to that “perfection” standard that I demand of myself now.

God demands a lot of us. If He didn’t – we’d go too easy on ourselves, I think. Or at least I would. But He knows we’re limited creatures, so maybe this is His way of reminding us that it’s not within us right now to know it all about love.

If that is the case, I like what it says about when the perfect comes, the imperfect disappears. It doesn’t subside. It doesn’t change. It leaves. All we have is a flawless love.

But in the meantime, we have to do the best we can with what we have…and in that, I can continue my work.

What Matters, What Doesn't - Day Twenty Two

But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away.

The forgotten part of 1 Corinthians 13. After “love never fails,” everyone stops reading. But the chapter doesn’t stop there. It continues. And today it has several meanings for me.

When I first read that sentence, I thought, What in the world does that mean? It made no sense to me. But then I went back and checked out the opening lines of this chapter. They talked about speaking, prophecies, and knowledge. And for days, I wrote about how none of that stuff mattered if I didn’t have love when I did them.

But the truth of it is, none of that really matters at all. It’s all over eventually anyway. What really matters is the love.

This summer was my ten year high school class reunion. I was thinking about prophecies in terms of the predictions. Don’t all classes do the “most likely to” lists? Who remembers those in ten years other than those who received the votes? What about things people said? Well, the cliques are still there – at the ten year mark, anyway. But suddenly I care much less what others say about me, and for that matter, they didn’t say much other than “who are you?” The things they used to say were gone. As is much of the stuff I had to learn in high school. The bits I crammed in my head were gone after the test and haven’t returned. The predictions, the yammering tongues, the knowledge – all gone.

You know what’s still there? Friends who loved me. I still have good friends from high school. And what has stood the test of the decade is that bond. That love. That friendship. It hasn’t failed.

Today is September 11. The five year mark. All day today, the radio station I listened aired programs where people remembered and paid tribute. And that brought me to a whole new level of thinking about this part of 1 Corinthians 13.

All those who lost their lives on that day – their tongues were stilled. Their knowledge passed away. Their participation in life ceased. But what I heard over and over in the words of their family members today was that love lives on. What people remember was their love. The acts of love that they displayed through kindness, patience, protection, trust…all of that. It lives on.

So it doesn’t really matter, when push comes to shove. All the stuff we build so much around is fleeting. But love matters.

Sunday, September 10, 2006

It is Grandparents’ Day – so happy holiday to all you grandparents on the list! I spoke at my church tonight and told a story about my Grandma Freelan, so I thought I would make today a tribute to my grandparents and tell a little about them.

My Dad's Dad died before I was born, so I don’t have any stories about him. I just will mention him here so you don’t think I forgot him!

Dad's Mom was already migrating to Florida each winter by the time I showed up on the scene. Each year, she’d spend a couple of weeks with us in the fall and in the spring on her way to and from Florida. I lived for those weeks – I thought they were the best thing ever. It was probably the best vacation my Mom had from me when I was little. Because when Grandma was in the house, nobody else mattered.

And bless her heart, she put up with so much. Anything I wanted to do to her – I could do. Some days I was a teacher, and I’d set up a whole classroom and make her my student. I’d teach her history and English and writing and whatever else I was learning in school. She had to do homework and take tests and try to excel above the 20 other imaginary (yet very smart) students in my class. I was a tough teacher.

Sometimes I was a nurse and she had to have shots and medicine and her blood pressure taken and who knows what else. There’s a scary thought – me as a nurse. Just for the record…if you happen to see me wearing scrubs in a billboard photo in a few months, please know that I’m a nurse in photos and playtime with Grandma only…and you wouldn’t want me to try anything more than that where healthcare is concerned.

And sometimes I was a piano teacher. I’d sit beside her at the piano and make her count in four-four time. I’d set the timer and make her practice between lessons. It was great!! Finally, I could be in charge and let someone ELSE do the practicing!

I loved Grandma – tonight at church I shared about what a prayer warrior she was – how I think she prayed for every person on the planet by name. And she did not get off her knees until she had named them all. Grandma was the warrior to have on your side. I miss her – and I miss her prayers.

My Mom’s parents were much closer to me in location, so I spent a lot more time with them than just a couple of weeks twice a year. They spoiled me rotten. When I was little and spent the night at their house, they’d take me out to McDonalds and buy me a real Happy Meal with the toy included. Grandma would make root beer floats and I’d sleep on the couch with a row of dining room chairs beside me to keep me from falling on the floor. They always brought me a bell for my bell collection any time they went on vacation.

They came to grandparents day at school every year and everyone always knew they were my grandparents because they were the oldest ones and because my Mom and my Grandma look exactly alike. Grandma decorated my birthday cake every year and I still have a little green ceramic doll that sat on top of the cake when I was five.

Grandma and Grandpa were a great example to me of how to be best friends forever. They did everything together for as long as I could remember…and before that even. They had devotions and coffee together every morning. They went to church every week. They prayed for their family and were involved in each of our lives as much as they possibly could be.

I am thankful for their influence on my life. I love the way they welcomed me in to a family that already had a set dynamic, but they made room for me. I always felt special and welcomed in their presence. And I love it that now I have memories to relive every day when I wake up in the home that was theirs! (Although I do wonder what they’d think of the purple bedroom.)

So Happy Grandparents’ Day – and thank you to each of my grandparents that I had the privilege to know. Thank you for being the best grandparents ever. I miss you so much.