Bits for Sunday, August 26, 2007

31.

It’s how old I’ll be in a couple of years.

It’s how many days are in seven months out of the year.

It’s approximately how many miles I will live from the nearest Hobby Lobby once they close mine.

It’s soon to be how tall my grass is – in inches – if it doesn’t stop raining enough for me to mow.

It’s how many minutes of my life I’ll never get back after being in LINE at the Wal-Mart yesterday.

Thirty-one minutes in line. My Mom said to me, “Now, are you saying you spent 31 minutes in the store from the time you walked in until the time you walked out?” Oh no, Mama. Thirty-one in line.

I’ve never seen Wal-Mart like this. Not even at Christmas when everyone arrives in unison to cram-shop. There are (I think) twenty two lanes in the store. Plus the self-checkouts. (I am principally opposed to self-checkouts because I believe they put people out of work, and I won’t be a part of that.) Yesterday there were eight lanes open (plus the self-checkouts). Eight of twenty-two. At midnight, that’s not such a big deal. At five in the afternoon on a Saturday when the entire county has converged upon the store – it is a big deal. Every lane was full to the end, sticking out into the main aisle, and starting to back up into clothing.

Keeping my voice at a respectable level, I called my Mom from my perch at the back of the checkout lane to let her know that I would probably die in checkout. Not because of a revolt or anything, but simply from the aging process. Years would come and go, and I’d still be standing there, all for the love of six eggs, a package of shredded cheese, extra wide egg noodles, four chicken breasts, sixteen ounces of sour cream, two pounds of grapes, a loaf of wheat bread, one hundred packets of Sweet N Low, and a fresh package of cardstock. I was buying that for my Christmas cards, but given that I’d be spending Christmas in line, I thought about taking it back and saving five dollars and forty-eight cents.

The man in front of me called his son. His son had gotten in line at the same time the man did – only his son is of the put-people-out-of-work mentality and went through self-checkout. In this case, putting people out of work was smart. The son was done and in the car. The man was stuck in line with me, facing the very real probability of missing his son’s high school graduation, wedding, and the birth of his first three children. Behind me was an elderly woman who told me that she didn’t tell her children she was going to Wal-Mart. Bad move. Much more time and they’d probably need to put her on the missing person’s report.

Being stuck in line for 31 minutes will make you contemplate doing things you wouldn’t ordinarily dream of doing. For example. I stood next to a Starbucks cooler. Just on the other side of the glass were rows of beautiful, creamy, caffeine-laden iced coffees. I considered drinking one and putting the jar back in the cooler. But I didn’t. I also considered dipping into the grapes and saving myself a nickel or six. It was approaching dinner time, you know. But I didn’t. I also considered having the woman behind me save my spot in line while I went to get a hair magazine to pick out my next style. I figured by the time I got out of line, my hair would resemble Rapunzel’s anyway. But I didn’t. The lady behind me probably only looked like a nice old lady. Given the chance, she would have thrown my cart out of line and moved on up herself. When you spend 31 minutes in line, it’s every person for herself.

I firmly believe I picked the slowest cashier. This belief is supported by my observance that a woman who wandered the main aisle looking for the shortest line (as if one existed – HA!) a good ten minutes after I’d been slouching over my cart watching age spots appear on my skin ended up checking out in the line next to me at the same time I stood at the register. I also picked a line with no magazines. That was a travesty. My conscience does keep me from drinking Starbucks and replacing the jar in the cooler or lightening up the bag of grapes with an afternoon snack, but it would not have kept me from catching up on the latest issue of People – and that’s a fact.

My almost-favorite moment? The man in front of me (whose son was about to become a grandfather himself, by this time) had just placed the little order-separator-stick behind his stuff so I could begin to unload my purchases onto the conveyor belt when the manager slid into our row and slapped the Lane Closed sign right behind his order.

I think she sensed a revolt from the looks of intense panic on each face (mine the most) – because she quickly said, “Everyone in line now will be able to stay.” You better believe it Missy. You already took 31 minutes of my life. You don’t want to see me after 62.

But the crowning moment was when the cashier handed me my receipt. At the very top, I read the following: WE VALUE YOUR OPINION! WE WANT TO KNOW ABOUT YOUR SHOPPING EXPERIENCE TODAY AT WAL-MART.

Really? Are you sure about that?

IN RETURN FOR YOUR TIME YOU COULD RECEIVE ONE OF FIVE $1000 WAL-MART SHOPPING CARDS.

How about in return for my time, you’ll replace my sour cream which spoiled, my grapes which rotted, and my bread, which molded ALL WHILE STANDING IN LINE??

Head Fogs, Hard Questions, and Hitting the Road

This land of blogging has a very interesting way of entwining lives. I'm glad Jim and Jaena roped me into it, despite my vehement insistence that I would never do it. In the year or so that I've been on here - I've met new friends and I've become friends with people that were just faces in my world before. And I love that.

Christina and I were talking on the phone one night earlier this week - and we discussed the newest heartbreak in our world of blogging friends. She said it seems so weird to know that the hard stuff has hit our own generation. (This is where we bordered on sounding like little old ladies hunkered down in rocking chairs.) We've been used to hearing our parents talk about all their friends (mostly the old ones) who were sick or hurting. And it's not that the old people deserve to be sick or hurt at all...it's just that those were the people we were used to hearing about.

Now it's not them.

It's us...or at least people our age.

And it's not that we're old (thankyouverymuch) but just that...well...I just don't know what it is. Hence the head fog. And the hard questions of why.

Because my blogging circle is pretty much made up of the same people that all of you already know, I don't usually point you in any direction, because chances are, you've already seen it, heard it, know it. But I know there's a couple of you out there that might not know a few of these amazing people, so I'm passing them on.

Josh and Shelly don't even know who I am - but I remember them from college, and even before that, I remember Josh from high school. He went to the same school as my best friend, and she was a cheerleader...he was a basketball player...so I used to see him play when I watched her cheer. He's just a year older than I am, and yet he's recovering from an accident that his left him paralyzed for...well...we don't know if it's forever or not. Maybe. And I read their blog and am blown away by their faith and their vulnerability and their honesty and their strength...and I still don't understand why one wave in Cancun had to find his neck and break it. And even in not understanding, I can see this whole family allowing God to work through them and my own faith has grown while praying for Josh and reading the words Shelly writes.

And the one that Christina and I talked about this week was Bryson Hummel - a little boy who just a week ago today lost his leg in an accident. He's four. That's a hard thing to wrap my mind around. Bryson's parents went to college with me too - and they are the sweetest people. And to read this blog and see that same mix of faith and hope and strength and fear and honesty - it's so hard. But Beau (Bryson's dad) said something on that blog about times like this being the times when faith hits the road...and suddenly I felt a bit convicted. The things God asks of me in this very minute are really not very hard, especially when stacked up next to the Bucks and the Hummels. But Beau and Nicole are saying things...even in just talking (or rather typing) out loud that are profoundly moving my own faith. You know that has to be God doing His work.

And Bryson has an aunt and uncle - Burke and JoEllen - who have been through a whole lot in the past year. They had triplets and one of the babies died shortly after the premature birth. I'd sit and read (and of course cry) as they talked about the pain of losing Breckin and the joy found in the miracles of the other babies who are growing and defying expectation every day.

It seems weird - Christina and I agreed - to know that people our own age are paralyzed and working through the death of a child and facing a future of a different sort of normal for a child that last week was just like anybody else. This sort of stuff doesn't happen to people we know - and yet all of the sudden it happens a lot to people we know.

But these three families are three of the most amazing families I've ever known. And while I know them mostly through this world of blogging, I'm grateful that they're here to share their stories. God is using them to grow so many other people - and I'm one of them. And God is teaching me to put down the landing gear of my own faith and let it hit the road right alongside them.

So thanks Josh and Shelly...and Burke and JoEllen...and Beau and Nicole...for sharing your paths and for encouraging others.

This is Why Kids Are Born as Little Sleepy Babies

I used to babysit for a living. Back in high school, that is. Back when I had MUCH more energy than I have now. Tonight I revisited those days for just a few hours. I watched my "niece" and "nephew" while their parents went to a school meeting. Savannah is five. Liam is about a year and a half. Pick just one of them, and you'll find more energy than I have in my right arm. Add both of them together, and WOW. You parents...you're my heroes.

The evening was actually very fun, and I would do it all over again...right after I take a nap. But in the space of two hours, I was declared a tree branch (which meant I had to lay on the floor, have a beanbag chair placed on my back, and Savannah "the bird" took flying leaps into "the nest" I supported. When we were done with that, we took turns donning the empty Lego bucket on our heads. When Liam wore it, it came down over his shoulders and he roamed the house, randomly colliding with furniture, walls, you name it. When Savannah wore it, she spent so much time giggling and listening to her voice echo inside that she got the hiccups. When I wore it...well it didn't really fit me. My head's too big. (Phats, don't you dare comment on that.) But she was determined to make it fit, leaving me with some interesting head pains. We tried reading, but Liam kept stealing the books. He also tried ripping my earrings out of my ears. That was lotsa fun.

And then there are the "interesting moments" - like when I looked up in time to see Liam licking the mop. He was not happy when I took it away, but I just didn't think it was the best activity.

Or the moment when Savannah was trying to explain to me how to use the remote to play the DVD (why is it ALWAYS the children who have to explain the electronics to the adults?) and when I pressed the wrong button, she said to me, "You gotta listen to me, girl!" GIRL?? What happened to "Aunt Bekah?"

In the middle of all of that, we took lots of pictures, some of which Savannah insisted upon taking herself. I was trying to teach her to hold the camera still for a second after the flash while it captures...that took several tries. All to get a picture of the princess on the screen. And you can know that I was not about to figure out that remote enough to successfully pause and un-pause.

The evening was so great - nothing beats the hugs and kisses of nieces and nephews. But I have definitely concluded that this is why kids aren't born as toddlers and preschoolers. Parents have to work up to that energy level.

Happy Anniversary and A Little Laugh

A very happy FIFTY-THIRD wedding anniversary to my parents this fine day. Fifty-three years. That's a lotta marriage. Three years ago, the siblingettes and I threw a party for them - hope they're not looking for that this year. :)

I got them (don't tell them if you see them...) the old standby of Cracker Barrel gift cards, because that truly makes them happiest. The cats got them a picture. Technically the cats simply POSED for the picture and I did the work. The cats also submitted a pawprint (their version of a signature) on the matting around the picture. Do you know how much fun it is to corner a cat at six in the morning to get a paw print? And then I had to go around and clean the blue prints on the hardwood floor until the ink had worn off...

In other news...if you need a great Monday laugh, may I suggest that you visit the Hollands' blog? (Link at the left.) Pastor Brian is our youth pastor and he has as great story from this past Friday night. Makes me laugh every time I read it.

Bits for Sunday, August 19, 2007

I sat down to journal last night and before I even started writing, I thought, “This was a nearly perfect day.” Nothing spectacular happened. In five years (or five months) I probably won’t even remember August 18th. But that’s okay because it was still a good day, and good days deserve a celebration.

When I picked up my God Calling devotional, I found this among the thoughts for the day: You know the difference between taking a glad, loving, joy-springing child with you along a way, when the child anticipates each direction, accepts naturally each decision as to each turning – and the child who resists, and, rebellious, has to be forced, even though in its quieter moments it may say ‘Yes, I do want to go with you. I cannot be left alone, but I hate this way.’

Those of you who have kids may understand the difference a little bit better than I do. The only trips the kids in my house take end at the vet’s office, and we all cry the whole way there. (Thankfully it’s not far.) But for those of you with human children, I can imagine that a road trip is a lot more fun when the kids don’t start whining before you’ve left the driveway. Back in the day when I lived at home with my parents, they did a great job of planning stops along the way to the final destination. That helped. I always had a little something to look forward to while waiting for the grand finale.

Unfortunately, I don’t always grant God that same “pleasant traveler” attitude. He plans so many beautiful things along the way and I’m so bent on getting to whatever I think the destination should be that I miss all the scenery along the way.

I’ve been mulling that thought over today and I’ve concluded that this whole week has had good turns in the road. It had its rough parts too, for sure. I think some of you are still laughing about one in particular. And that is okay. I’m laughing too…now. There were other parts of the week that brought along a hurt here or there that I could have done without, but the joy-breaks more than made up for the rough parts.

* Joy was holding a five year old in church and hearing her sing loud and clear in my ear, “Blessed be the name of the Lord…” and knowing that she had no clue what she was saying when she sang “He gives and takes away…my heart will choose to say…blessed be Your name…” but also knowing that those words will come back someday when she is older and needs them.

* Joy was finding a super extra low price sale on clothes going out for the season…and not just any clothes, but the clothes I specifically hoped to find…and not only that, but buying a size smaller than last time!

* Joy was a gentle nudge from God calming me down from a statewide search (since the county clearly failed me) for a new work outfit for tomorrow as He reminded me that my source of strength does not come from clothes or shoes.

* Joy was a phone call from one of my friends…when I would never have expected the phone to ring…but when my heart needed a boost the most.

* Joy was having my friend Rachel agree to take time out of her workout schedule to teach me to use the weight machines at the gym and her encouragement over my puny attempts that one day we’ll both look back on with great laughter.

* Joy was staying home on Friday night and watching a movie of my own choosing and having a good cry. (I know, I know. Stupid chick flicks.)

* Joy was sleeping in until my eyes popped open yesterday morning and looking over an entire day with not a single plan that had to be done at any specific time.

* Joy was realizing last night that if I wanted to make the cheesy potato dish, it was okay to do that just for myself and I didn’t have to have a house full of company to make it legitimate.

* Joy was a successful Google search – just to find out that a face from a long ago time seems to be doing okay.

None of those joyful moments signaled the arrival at any destination, but they were still great moments. And I’m putting it high on my list of things this week to try to NOT be the kid God wants to pitch out of the car for excessive whining and complaining. I’m going to try to enjoy more of the journey and worry less about the destination.

Who Knew?

Last night, one of the girls from the office took me to the gym to teach me how to use the weight machines. I wanted to go before campus filled up with skinny girls who would just stare at me in my baggy t-shirt with a look of "yeah YOU shoulda been in here all summer." Fortunately, last night the gym contained very few people, even though most of them were guys who clearly live there at least on a part time basis.

Despite my worries, I went in and gave it my best shot. It was pathetically puny at best for some of the machines, but on a few, I did pretty well. We ended with a bike ride - where Rachel was mentally in the Tour de France and I was just taking a leisurely stroll through the country. No wonder she's so tiny!

This morning, though, MAMA! I didn't know God put muscles in all those places! WOW! When I started to wash my hair, my shoulders said NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! But if I'm gonna take care of this Bricker swing (flabby arms) I'm going to have to spend more time with the skinnies at the gym, regardless of how humiliating it is.

How Did they DO It?

Last night I was fast asleep when I thought for sure I heard a noise. I did. My phone. Text message. It was Tina, letting me know we were under a tornado warning. Can I just back up and tell those of you who don't know me very well...I FREAK OUT in storms. I'm going to be one of those moms someday who totally scars her kids for life because she can't keep it together in a storm. High on the list of things I want in a husband, behind a willingness to handle the money and an ability to kill spiders is someone who can keep me from hyperventilating in a storm. He doesn't have to like storms. He just has to keep me from losing my mind AND my lunch.

I turned on the TV and found that we were, in fact, under a warning. So I called my Mom. I didn't care that it was 12:15 in the morning. If I was going down, I wasn't going down alone. She had the scanner on and was trying to talk me through the storm.

As I paced randomly throughout the house, looking outside now and then, I began to remember all the things Lori and Jeff said they should have taken/hidden/etc. I started randomly throwing things in my house into safe places and yelling for the cats to maybe REMEMBER their love of the bathtub and get in it. As things started to pick up, I realized I was shoeless - a problem my niece had after the tornado. So I rounded up some shoes and began looking for a safe place. It doesn't exist in my house. I was just gonna hafta fly through the air if it really it.

When the rain and wind started, I looked outside and thought "How in the world did Lori, Jeff, and Cassie live through something ten times this fierce?" My goodness. A whole new respect.

So if you write me today and receive a ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ for a response, you'll know that my lack of sleep caught up with me.

REBUILDING: Back to School

It's been a while since I've given a Kansas update, but tonight, to keep myself occupied while exercising, I talked to Lori for about 45 minutes. So I have the latest and greatest.

School starts tomorrow in Greensburg, and I think it will be an interesting day for them, to say the least. Classes, offices, the library...all of them are in portable trailers. As of today, sidewalks were still being poured and much last minute preparation was underway. Lori said that the elementary school library is stocked with so many books that were donated from all over. (No shelves for them yet, but the books are there!) She also said that tomorrow is an even more important hair day than the first day of school normally would be...because of course the media will show up. :)

She told me that 74% (I think that was the number) of students who were there last year are back - and at the high school level, that number is closer to 98 or 99%. It's easier for high school students to transport themselves if they live far away now, and of course if you've gone all those years to one school, your loyalties are a little stronger.

Transportation is an issue. Those who aren't living in the FEMA trailers in town are commuting from 10-40 miles away, and in addition to coming to Greensburg for school, there are additional travels required for sports practices, which are happening in other towns. I think it will take a while for them to get all that figured out - but eventually they'll get there.

They're still waiting for their own house construction to start, but they're getting along well in their temporary home.

So that's an update in the land of great wind!

Progress

Well even though there are areas of life that consistently fall apart, it's good to see something that moves forward. Today that progress award goes to my precious Burger King.

Yesterday I drove to the far away one just because I couldn't handle another day without a BK French Fry. Roberta was working there. Sad that I know the names of the BK people, but I do. She is temporarily displaced to the far away BK while mine is under construction. I told her I missed her - also sad, but very true.

She told me that the target opening day is September 1 - but maybe, get this, EARLIER!!! Does this ever happen in a construction project? She made my whole day.

So amid my chaos, I count down to BK's new day.

Bits for Sunday, August 12, 2007

Well it’s been an interesting week here in Bekahland. There are weeks that just exude confidence and then there are weeks that just confirm the need to crawl under a rock…or move to Nebraska and start over.

This week was more the second sort of week for me.

You've already read the post about my rather awkward impression with my new boss this past Wednesday. That started my week rolling. (If you haven't read it....just keep scrolling.)

Although I worried that he might be scared of me after that, a couple of days later, he did venture past my door again. This time I was eating my peanut butter and jelly toast sandwich that I have every morning. Great. A few hours later that same day, he wandered by again, this time with his family in tow, showing them all of our offices. I was munching on a cookie that time.
So now I’m pretty sure that he thinks I’m only capable of eating and crying. Kind of like…a baby?

And let’s not forget Friday night. I left work, anxious to get my walking out of the way and settle down for a long evening’s scrap, so I changed from my work clothes to my workout clothes as quickly as I could.

Apparently I changed a little too quickly. About 11:30 that night, when I was getting ready for bed, I discovered my tank top was on backwards. The v-neck was shooting right down my back. Had I only been inside the house that night…no biggie. But of course I’d walked four miles AND made a coffee run when I was done. A coffee run in which I ran into our student worker and her friend. No wonder her friend gave me some weird looks! Who’s the idiot who can’t dress herself correctly?

Yes, there are weeks when to hibernate or move seems preferable to getting up the next day and trying again. At least trying again with the same crowd of people from the day before. And while I generally have a pretty good sense of humor, when dumb moments like this (combined with other dumb moments I’ve blocked out) pile up in a rapid fashion, I lose sight of the humor altogether.

I was looking for something in Ron Mehl’s book God Works the Night Shift, when I found this that I’d underlined on a read-through many months ago. Ron quoted Psalm 40:1, which says, “I waited patiently for the Lord; and He inclined to me, and heard my cry.” He says, “The Hebrew word for ‘inclined,’ natah, paints a very tender image. It’s the picture of a young child trying to get a busy dad’s attention. The child tugs on Dad’s pants leg and the big man stops everything he’s doing, sets it aside, gets down on one knee, looks his child right in the eyes, and says, ‘Okay, honey, I’m listening. I’m all ears.’ Natah implies a bending down to listen, a focused attention, a willingness to turn aside and hear every word…Everyone in the world might be too busy or too preoccupied to hear my cry for help, weak as it is. But God hears me! God drops His intergalactic agenda and falls to one knee to listen to my words.”

And that is a good thing. On the days when I do dumb things like snot all over a new boss or wear my shirt backwards, or say something I didn’t mean, or worry about something completely preposterous, or have a ridiculous dream that proceeds to make me unable to return to sleep…God cares about that. And He doesn’t think I need to crawl under a rock or move to Nebraska. He just listens. Mops up the tears. Laughs (only at the appropriate time). Sends a hug.

And I like that.

Random Ridiculousness

Wednesday evening, one of my co-workers invited a couple of us over to go swimming in her pool. It was my first swim of the season. I think I'm running behind. Anyway, I'd never been to her house before, but it was VERY nice and the perfect night for swimming. (One of those 400 degree days.) Anyway, she took this picture and when she showed it to me at work the next day, I said, "It kind of looks like I have no lower body and I have this giant prosthetic uni-foot thing going on under the water there." We laughed about it.

Christina, this one's for you - and if you don't understand what I'm talking about, check your email. :) For the rest of you...this is how I know I have a serious scrapbooking problem. I've been buying out all the glue stick sales from the back-to-school bins. I have bought a total of 55 packs (2 sticks per pack) this season, and I'm hoping that will last me through Christmas cards and a little bit of scrapping.

Life at Our House

Kaegan and Braeya sometimes play together. And by that, I mean Kaegan is sitting quietly minding his own business when Braeya attacks him and insists that he participate until she's bored. And she gets bored...well...never.

Last Friday night I was packing for a scrap day on Saturday, and as I worked in the office, Kaegan decided to nap in the suitcase (Skyepuppy...I know you use your suitcases for travel. I use mine to transport stamps and ink pads.) Braeya came in and pounced on Kaegan...and nap time was over. He mostly just sat inside the suitcase while she batted him from the outside.


Later, a very dignified Kaegan took a rest by the bookcases. Yes, his eyes always look this evil in pictures.


Braeya's new favorite sleeping place. Not sure why!

The Nameless Baby

When I was in college, one of my writing professors described the writing process as being similar to giving birth. You conceive an idea and nurture it along and then it's birthed in a book. I was skeptical at the time, but having written a couple of book length works now, I see her point.

Here's my problem. My most recent writing baby is nameless. I have a cheat sheet at home with about 15 titles of books I hope to write...and a book written with no title in sight. It's like having a nine month old kid with no name! So frustrating!

Titles have never been my strong point. In fact, most of what I wrote in college and probably 90% of my published articles were titled by my friends. Perhaps I should track some of those college friends down and tell them to give me a title for this book!

I didn't worry about it for a while. I thought the title would just pop up in a chapter somewhere and I'd know it when I saw it typing out on the screen. That didn't happen. I thought the title might appear in repeated phrases that showed up repeatedly of their own accord throughout the book. It didn't work. I thought it would just mysteriously settle into my brain. Nope.

Do you know how hard it is to write a query letter to pitch a book that has no name?

You know, Chris Rice's "Untitled Hymn" did pretty well on the charts....maybe I should just call this one "Untitled Advent Thoughts" and forget it.

Perfect Timing (eyeroll)

I had a meltdown at work this morning. It's been a good three months since I've done that. I think my last meltdown was tornado related. I've not even cried at all much lately - at work or at home. I've been very proud of that because it's quite an accomplishment for me.

But today - meltdown.

Not sure what sparked it. I'm absolutely exhausted, so I'm sure that was a major contributing factor. The weather is sapping me of whatever energy I had left (walking last night about killed me). I feel like I've gained 50 pounds in the last 2 days, and I know I haven't - but the clothes that are clean are the old baggy clothes. So somehow all of that together plus who knows what else factored in equals a meltdown.

So it was about 8:05, and I was in my office, door closed, losing my mascara when there was a knock on the door. I tried to compose myself (RIGHT!) and leaned back to open the door.

Definitely the new boss at the door.

Great. Aren't first impressions just the best???

How do you even recover from that? I just kind of mopped tears out of my eyes and said "Uh, how's your wife? How's your kids? How's my makeup?"

No More Like

Alright. I've had it. Before I climb up onto my soapbox and begin speaking, allow me to say that I am not completely void of this issue in my own life. But there's a line, people. A line. And I think you know when you've crossed it.

My pet peeve of today? Overuse of the word "like." According to the fine folks over at Merriam-Webster, like means to enjoy something or that two things are similar. It does not mean "said" - which is my own misuse of it ("I asked her if she wanted to go and she was like 'no.'") It is also not a filler word for sentences - which is where the LINE IS CROSSED.

In other words, if you call someone, your opening line(s) should not sound like (appropriately used...because I meant similar) this: "Hi, I'm like calling to like see if you could like help me with this like question I like have? I like need to like know if like I can like change like something without like everything else like changing?"

Seriously? That deserves an answer?


AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Okay I'm like fine now. Or at least I like think so.

Bits for Sunday, August 5, 2007

Once again, I’m not sure what to write about…and once again, the lack of writing material will not keep me from turning out two pages of yap.

I actually had great plans for what to say today. As of this morning, we officially have 89 days until this ridiculousness that is daylight savings time comes to an end…and I was going to write a tribute to the 80’s, counting backwards from 1989. But so many of those years are such a blur to me…especially 1981 when I was three. So I scrapped that plan.

And in the true fashion of lack of material, I reached into the Bekah-archives and found something for you. This is an excerpt of an article I wrote in college – and I called it “Daddilies.” The title is a spin-off of a book my Mom used to have, called “Mommilies” – and it shares all the things that Moms are so famous for saying and doing. (Speaking of which…Christian comedienne Anita Renfroe has the most hysterical set of “Mommilies” put to music. She has condensed every stereotypical Mom phrase to three minutes and sings them to the William Tell Overture. She was on Life Today last week and performed that song – I was crying by the end, and I’m not even a Mom. If you want to see it, you can go here - choose the Tuesday, July 31 broadcast - and hear her comedy followed by the song.)

So anyway, here’s one of the “Daddilies” I wrote about back in college:

Before retirement, Dad lived the life of a normal school teacher. He got up early, went to work, came home, graded papers, made tests and study guides, recorded and figured grades, plus all his household duties. Now that he’s retired, he lives the life of (I guess) a normal retired person. I’m not sure, but I think there must be a book out there somewhere that instructs retirees on what they are supposed to do once they have received the gold watch.

Promptly upon retirement, Dad developed an obsession with birds. We never had a single bird feeder during my growing up years. Now we have at least half a dozen…maybe more. We have the standard feeders and special feeders for finches, hummingbirds, bluebirds, and who knows what else. We also acquired a bird bath not too long ago.

One thing I didn’t realize for a long time is that just having the feeders and bath is not enough. You also have to plant vast amounts of flowers to attract the birds. I affectionately refer to our flowers as the weed patch. Our sweet little courtyard in the back has been overtaken by plants and bushes of all kinds, and there is some leafy monstrosity climbing up the side of our house. All this, you understand, is to attract the hummingbirds. Ironically, the leafy monstrosity has completely grown over one of the hummingbird feeders. You cannot see it at all. Mom and Dad say they never see any hummingbirds. I am quite convinced they are out there a lot, but you just can’t see them on account of the weeds.

Our finch feeder has nearly been swallowed by a gigantic sunflower that adorns the side of the barn. I would not even begin to tell you what kinds of plants have made a home under the big tree where most of the feeders hang. I do know that there used to be a lattice board next to the bird bath, but you can’t see that anymore on account of all the plants.

Another thing you need to know about bird obsessions…you must have a pair of binoculars, and a subscription to a bird magazine. Now I’m not against the binocular thing. I have used them on several occasions to try to see accidents out on the highway, whether or not our neighbors had electricity during a power outage, and a number of other fun sights. But to use them to see a bird two feet outside the back door? Give me a break!

I really knew Dad had reached a problem spot on this obsession when I saw him standing at the window one day saying, “Yeah we’ve had a hummingbird since seven this morning. Look at how much is gone out of that feeder!”

So that’s the Daddily for the week. I’ve long since moved out, but the bird/feeder/flower obsession has continued even in my absence. So far, it hasn’t continued here in my world. I do have a bird bath, but only because it was here when I moved in and to move it would have broken my back (and left a naked spot in the grass).

And just so you’ll know – Dad doesn’t care that I pick on him. He always says it means I’m leaving someone else alone. (All the Wal-Mart customers should thank him…)

Moment of Silence

I thought if I didn't talk about it, it wouldn't happen, but denial did not serve me well this time.

The Hobby Lobby is closing.

I find myself unable to breathe....

A Response!

Brandon - I completely forgot to tell you this when I saw you at the viewing. I heard back from Focus on the Family. I sent that letter and got a token automated response four days later. The pre-fab paragraph said I would be contacted later if my message required further response.

Yesterday I received a real answer from a real person and I appreciated that. The person who wrote to me was from the President's Office and said she would also forward my email to the broadcasting staff.

I'm very satisfied with that. I just needed to know that someone other than a computer saw my letter. I would still like to pursue the issue further - probably in my own writing - but I'm glad to have been acknowledged!

THANK YOU, NUTZ!

Wow - you've made a post title twice in one day! You should feel so special.

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU for finding the daylight savings ticker for me. This will make the next 92 days of my life go so....slowly. :)

For Nutz and Phats

Since Sadie is clearly more popular than Kaegan and Braeya....here's a couple more pictures of her that her owner sent me. Apparently this is how Sadie stops to smile on command when the camera makes an appearance.

D-O-N-E With Daylight Savings

Last year (our first year to participate in daylight savings) I fought the concept of time change. As if I had a voice - HA! I had lived all my life in the same time and never had a problem. I didn't want to see it change. My friend Mike (work buddy) tried valiantly to persuade me that it was a good thing - a great thing, in fact. HA.

This year I tried to approach it with a more positive, embracing attitude. And as much as it pains me to say this, I've somewhat appreciated the additional evening hours. It's helped outside exercise go much more smoothly.

Having said that - apparently my brain and body are DONE saving. About two weeks ago, against everything I've tried to trick myself with, my sleep pattern has gone back to the normal time zone. I barely make it to work on time and I can't go to sleep at night, no matter how early I get in bed, no matter how soon I cut off the caffeine, no matter...anything.

The new girls at work (who have only known me during the savings time) are starting to see Ugly Morning Bekah for the first time. I try to reiterate the importance of approaching me with caution before my coffee is completely consumed...but I don't think they are taking me seriously.

When again does it change back? How much longer do I have to put up with this? They need a daylight savings ticker for blogs like they have pregnancy monitoring tickers. I need a countdown.

Bits for Sunday, July 29, 2007

I used to babysit for a family who celebrated their children’s spiritual birthdays like any other real birthday. Complete with cake. I like the idea. And my own spiritual birthday (or the day I count as my spiritual birthday) is pretty easy to celebrate with not just cake –but all sorts of food. It happened sometime between 11:30 and midnight on New Year’s Eve when I was eleven. There’s all sorts of parties happening right at that time every year. But because it is such a significant day for me, I usually choose to ring in the new year with reflection. And food.

But if that is my spiritual birthday, then the last week in July must be more like an anniversary of some sort. It was during that week in 1996 that I made the transition from being a faith-moocher (stringing along behind my parents) to a faith-owner. I’ve written about it before. I was eighteen years old and two weeks into my first ever job outside of the babysitting enterprise. The assistant manager at the place where I worked, a twenty-one year old guy and the only friend I felt I had during business hours, took a week off work just to hang out and have fun. And on the first day of his summer vacation, the driver of a car didn’t see him on his motorcycle and he was gone.

And as I said before when I’ve written about it, that’s a tough spot for a girl who doesn’t know that her own time has come. Not her time to die – but her time to choose for herself Whom she would serve – and whether or not this faith stuff she said she believed really meant anything.

On July 25, 1996, I sat down on my white metal daybed in my bedroom and opened my book to Psalm 86. I found verses like Hear my prayer, O Lord; Listen to my cry for mercy. In the day of my trouble I will call to you for you will answer me…Turn to me and have mercy on me; grant your strength to your servant…Give me a sign of your goodness…and then I kept reading and ended up in Psalm 88. I found more verses – O Lord, the God who saves me, day and night I cry out before you. May my prayer come before you; turn your ear to my cry. For my soul is full of trouble…you have taken from me my closest friends…my eyes are dim with grief. I call to you, O Lord, every day; I spread out my hands to you…But I cry to you for help, O Lord; in the morning my prayer comes before you…All day long they surround me like a flood; they have completely engulfed me. You have taken my companions and loved ones from me; the darkness is my closest friend.”
That night was the night I knew I really meant the “faith stuff.” If God could work out the details, starting months before when I had begun to read the Bible through, in such a way that I was ready for these verses on this night…if God could prove to me that someone else had felt this way first and that hope existed…then I would trust Him. I’d stay on the path.

I kind of wonder now if on that night, a little collection of angels in Heaven peeked over a cloud to see if some teenager in Greentown, Indiana, would pass the big faith test. I wonder if that same collection peeked over another cloud a few years later, almost to the day, when I was handed another test and this time, decided to try things my own way. Didn’t even realize at the time that I was in a test – but definitely thought I knew more than God. Bad move.

This week I was reflecting on both those “anniversaries.” I pulled off the shelf the study Bible I was using when Craig died, and I opened to the exact pages I’d read – found my notes in the margins and the pink highlighting over the words that spoke to me that night. And in the white space between the pink highlights, I found this verse: Is your love declared in the grave, your faithfulness in Destruction? (88:11). I’m sure that theologically, what I got out of the verse wasn’t exactly what the writer was intending, but here’s what I got…

Eleven years down the road, I can say that God absolutely loved me right through that tragedy. He started by sending two Psalms on a bitter evening and then He just kept right on moving. About a month after Craig’s death, I sat in the Burger King on a Thursday night before church (some things never change) and one of the college guys that worked there came out to take his break at my table while I ate dinner. His name was Randy. I have no idea what his last name was, but he was a really great guy who had worked there for a while. It wasn’t uncommon for him to take a break while my parents and I ate dinner, and he’d sit at the table across the aisle and we’d talk. That night I was there alone, but he still came out to sit with me. I have no memory of what we talked about that night – but I do remember laughing and then realizing that I was laughing for real. For the first time since Craig died, something brought a spark of joy to my life and I smiled and laughed sincerely. And that night, the dark load of grief left me. Randy must still live around here somewhere, because every now and then, I see him with his wife at Wal-Mart. I want to go up to him and say “Hey you probably don’t remember me, but I was a Burger King regular and one night God used you to do something big in my life.” But given my track record with Wal-Mart interactions, I just keep pushing my cart past him while inside thanking God for love and Psalms and Randy.

God was faithful to me in 1996, He was faithful a few years later despite my heart detour, and He’s still faithful now. This week, this “anniversary” week – has been a good one. God did it up right – He knows I love stuff like that. And while I don’t have any cake – I do have a big ole pan of brownies out in the kitchen. So I think I’ll go have one in celebration.

The Welcoming Committee

A couple of weeks ago, I went to one of my friends' house so her daughter could thin my hair. (The Mia Thermopolis look had again emerged.) We had a slight miscommunication about the time I was supposed to show up, and when I got there, no one was home. I called and was told to just wait and they'd be right home, so I did. I put the car window down to get some fresh air, and.....

Sadie showed up!

She was very friendly - and had a real interest in learning to drive. When I opened the car door, she tried to get in!

Kaegan and Braeya

Several months ago, Rachel (one of my co-workers) gave me the most adorable cat picture frame. It looks like a scrapbook page - and all you have to do is add the picture. I wanted to make sure the picture I put in it had both Kaegan and Braeya, since I only had one frame and to play favorites is rude.

Do you know how hard it is to find two cats in the same spot...let alone to get them to stay there while you go get the camera and capture the perfect shot?

Impossible.

So...about 6 months later...I finally got one. As you'll notice - it only worked because they were asleep. This is one of their favorite spots to sleep - right at the top of the stairs. Normally they refuse to occupy the space together but this day they were feeling nice, I guess.

(By the way - the ugly green carpet is about to go. It's older than I am and went out of fashion, well, decades ago. I've made a priority to replace it with something more neutral by the end of the year.)

Braeya the Camera Hog

It's truly not that I love Braeya more than Kaegan. It's just that she's such a girl and he's such a boy. He runs when he sees the camera emerge. She stops and poses. Ridiculous. But true.


Actually, Cassie took this picture when she visited a couple of weeks ago. She stayed in my guest room, which is usually void of life, yet full of furniture. Since that is the case, I think Braeya has decided I created the room specifically for her. Every morning when I go in to open the blinds, she jumps up on the dresser and stares at her reflection in the mirror. I never have my camera handy, but Cassie captured this one - and this is really Braeya at her finest!


Much like a child...I'm not sure why I bother to purchase toys for her when she's just as happy playing with the most random things...empty glue sticks, pieces of scrap paper, and most of all - bows from gifts.


While Cassie was here, she tried not to let her exercise routine be too terribly interrupted. She'd ordered an exercise ball which was on its way to her house. She found mine in the closet and asked if she could practice on it. I got out the big paper of directions for her, and Braeya thought they were for HER. So she read them...

...And then sat right on top of them and supervised Cassie's attempts. Cassie actually did a very good job - better than I've done so far! I keep losing my balance and sliding into the entertaiment center. (Which, incidentally, doesn't feel very good.)

LOVE Fridays!!!

Happy Friday! This has been a good day - and is even better now because it's quittin' time and I can go enjoy my weekend.

Just a couple of random thoughts and things.

BABY MANIA has hit the world of my friends. Congratulations to Greg and Lisa on the birth of their son. Lisa is not on blogger (yet...) but she is one of my friends from the early days of Financial Aid and just had her baby yesterday. I can't wait to meet him! And congratulations to Kyle and Ruth on the birth of their daughter - born just less than two hours ago! Keep Ruth in your prayers if you think of it. She has battled gallstone attacks for her entire pregnancy (she is my pregnancy HERO!) and within the next couple of weeks will finally be able to have surgery to fix that and she'll be able to eat her own pick of food for the first time in forever! AND last but absolutely not least - congratulations to Marty and Lori on the birth of their daughter, Jillian, who was born this morning! They've already posted some pictures, so you can check that out. She's a cutie!

And this has nothing to do with anything else - but today I had to take an early lunch and so I channel surfed for a while. I had no idea what was on at that hour since I'm never home then - but I ran across the show "At Home with Chuck and Jenni" and some lady I don't know was singing a song that never ended. I happened to catch a glimpse of her background vocals and guess who was back there! Melinda Doolittle. From American Idol! Apparently this was not a recent taping of At Home...and it was from her BGV days. Very exciting! She was just as sweet a singer in the background as she was every week on American Idol. Love her!

Well - it's time to exercise or scrapbook or somethin.

Good Grief

There are no words...

There you go, Tina. Enjoy. I have a feeling this is going to end up in the file alongside the dye job gone bad.

As Requested...Sort of

Well - the specific request has been made for me to post the nose-picking picture. PROBLEM: I don't own it. BIGGER PROBLEM: Dad is bringing it over tomorrow. So when I have it, I'll post it - at least for a day. Then embarrassment will probably get the best of me and I'll take it away.

Meanwhile, specifically for the Hutchins Family - I will offer a sampling of life in Bekah toddlerhood.

Below is typical Bekah: mouth open, being loud. This would be my classy high chair (probably just about to come BACK into style) doubling as a piano bench. And so began my years of piano playing...


Did I mention I parted my teeth down the middle? Boy I'm glad I recovered from that. Because I gotta tell you...had I been my Mom...I'd have been pret-ty scared right about this stage. I also notice the little dimples in my hand where my knuckles are supposed to be...LONG into my teen and even adult years, I still didn't have real knuckles. I thought that baby fat would never leave.


And this would be the "I know I'm gonna love pictures" Bekah. I don't think you can tell here, but my eyes were very very blue. And still to this day, when I cry, they turn an amazing shade of blue. Of course after crying they're more like amazing blue surrounded by what-happened-to-you red, but still a cool shade. And you'll notice...the early love of books.

Tagged: The Childhood Version

Skyepuppy tagged me. I love being tagged because it makes me feel very popular, but I wasn't sure what to share since I was just tagged not too long ago. So...I decided to bend, okay break, the rules and do a version of random facts from days of yore. I might have shared some of these on here before, but I think most of them are new. It is hard to remember after a while!

1. Though I love to cook now, my first unsupervised cooking endeavor was a disaster of gargantuan proportions. My parents left me home in the care of my grandma (NOT the cooking grandma) and I decided to surprise them by making fudge while they were gone. Guess what I learned that night? There's a difference between confectioner's sugar and granulated sugar.

2. When I was very little (probably 3 or so) I decided I wanted to be just like my Dad - who cuts wood for a hobby. When my sister was out of the room, I grabbed a pair of scissors and cut up her bedspread into tiny pieces of "wood." Wanna guess which members of the house found that funny and which ones didn't?

3. I carried a doll to church every Sunday when I was younger, and had to finally have a talk from my parents about the amount of stuff I took for her. Apparently the multiple blankets, diaper bag, baby, AND my own bag of stuff - too much. Sad thing - I still take that much stuff to church. But no baby stuff now. Just all my own stuff.

4. I'm sure you heard that Tammy Faye passed away this weekend; when I was little, I used to dress up in Lori's clothes and shoes, stand in her room, and sing alongside Tammy Faye every day during the PTL show. I don't really remember much about it, but I heard I was pretty good at it.

5. TOTALLY forgot to tell my Mom about Games Day in either kindergarten or first grade. (Games Day was like a field day at the end of every school year.) I came to school in one of my frilliest dresses, dress shoes - the whole nine yards. That was a fun way to play games!

6. When I was in third grade, my name was drawn to babysit the class guinea pig over the weekend. She had just given birth, too. Did I mention my Mom doesn't like animals? She'd been assured by the teacher that my chances of winning were slim to none. HA.

7. The last solo I ever sang in church was "My Father's Eyes." Scary, scary day in my life.

8. Somewhere in my parents' house is a black and white 8x10 of me (as a toddler) standing in the Home Ec lab picking my nose. I WILL find that picture before it is used against me.

Bits for Sunday, July 22, 2007

God is up to something. I’m not really sure what – but He’s up to something. I feel like I’m following this trail of crumbs, and I can’t quite tell what I’m headed toward, but I can tell I’m headed for something. And I wonder not only what I’m headed for, but when I might expect to arrive.

Last night I wanted to quit. Ever feel like that? I did. I texted Marie and told her that I felt very out of the God loop and my own personal path seemed much easier. I have a path. It seems like an exciting path – or at least it’s exciting in my daydreams. Somehow I have a feeling if it were to scoot over into reality, I wouldn’t even recognize it. And down in the bottom corner of my heart, I can hear God saying “That’s not really what you want and you know it. You’re just grasping and that’s the best you can do. Wait ‘til you see what I can do!”

So last night when I was journaling, I said, “My faith isn’t feeling so well right now…This that You ask of me is so much bigger than I am. I’m not sure how to approach it. Are you just waiting for me to throw my hands up and give up? Is that what You need so You can be at work?” I think it’s good to be involved…but my involvement shoots into just plain interference without warning. That can’t help whatever it is He’s trying to do.

I figured it couldn’t hurt to toss up the old hands and say “Okay fine. My way clearly isn’t going anywhere, so You do it Your way.”

Funny how He loves that.

I opened up devotional book number one (I have several) –this one is written by Joyce Meyer. It’s a morning and evening devotional in one, but I’d not yet read the morning part, so I started there. She quoted Psalm 25:1 and said, “…it gives you the answer for your whole life: give it to the Lord…It means bringing Him your entire existence and everything it entails. Grasping that truth will set you free from weariness and a feeling of wanting to give up.” I just shook my head. This is what I’ve come to expect and love about God. When I’m truly at my wit’s end – He kicks in with a fury I wouldn’t have bothered to see if I had any wit left.

I flipped the book over and read the evening devotional. Among other things, I found, “So no matter what you see today, believe that God is working on your breakthrough.” Well I certainly hope so! I need a breakthrough before I break my head trying to figure it out.

Putting Joyce aside, I moved on to the next book, God Calling, and found this under yesterday’s date: “I am teaching you…My way of removing mountains: the way to remove mountains is the way of praise.” I seemed to remember a time – probably 3 years ago – when God taught me very specifically how to pray by praising. I didn’t understand it then, but I did it. And the outcome wasn’t quite what I’d envisioned (okay, nowhere near), but I did learn that my praise brought an answer. Just because it wasn’t the one I had my eye on didn’t make it less real or less powerful to the person who benefited from the joy that came.

I went to bed, sure that God was done talking for a while. WRONG.

Let me just kind of explain to you what I like to call the alarm clock adventure. You know I hate mornings. I have to ease into them. Gently. So I set two alarms. The clock radio goes off first. It goes off every nine minutes when I hit snooze, so it goes off twice before the obnoxious beep of the cell phone begins. It rings every five minutes when I hit snooze. I put the radio on one side of my head and the cell phone on the other side of my head, and then between turning left and right to hit snooze, I wake up. Well, and Kaegan generally wakes up with the first alarm and leaves his sleeping post behind the bathroom door to stand beside my ear and offer pitiful meows until I finally get up. Then he nestles down in the warm bed I just left. Cats. What a life.

I said all of that to say that it’s usually about 40 minutes into the alarm clock adventure before any of the noise registers with me. This morning when the first coherent radio alarm went off, I heard the following chorus – “God will make a way, where there seems to be no way. He works in ways we cannot see; He will make a way for me. He will be my guide, hold me closely to His side. With love and strength for each new day, He will make a way.” I rolled over (catching the cell phone alarm) and said “God, it is Sunday. It’s not even 8:00 yet!” Then whoever was talking on the radio (must have been a church service) said, “Say it with me. God will make a way.” So there I was, pushing away a cell phone alarm on one side and a morning-cat on the other side, mumbling “God will make a way.”

Once I was awake, I thought it was a nice gesture for God to send that as my wake up call. I went to church and somewhere about halfway through Sunday School, someone mentioned the song we were going to have at the end of the service. I’d never heard of this song before, but they told me the title was “O for a Faith that Will Not Shrink.” I grabbed my bulletin and looked for the sermon title. It was called Doubting God! I moaned and said “People, I gotta go home!! This is too much for a Sunday!”

But it wasn’t too much for a Sunday. It was a perfect Sunday to follow a perfect Saturday night. I still am no closer to knowing what He’s doing. But I’m closer to knowing He’s working, He doesn’t need my interference, and He does need my trust.

Clarification

It's not like me to try to stir up controversy. In fact, controversy makes me very nervous. I inherited from my mother the genuine desire to have everyone around me be as happy and at peace as they can possibly be. And I'm terrible with debates. I usually just want to say "Yeah you're right" and run away so I don't have to think for myself. As a result, these last couple of posts have been very icky for my tummy. And I think Brandon has about all the intelligent comments I can offer from the debate corner of my mind. But he's asked good questions and I'm glad he's asked them. I need to think about those things.

I felt like I wasn't able to offer the best answers earlier today when I was answering away from my copy of the book, so let me go back and clarify a couple of things. First - about abortion. I went back and found where she said "When the test stick colored, and when I cried out the news to him [her husband], we knew, without asking, that we would birth and raise these babies together just as we had made them. That was all we knew, but it was all that was needed at first." (p. 30) So abortion was never considered from the start. But I distinctly remember hearing Dr. Dobson say on the air that all three women on the panel had the thought of abortion - and maybe hers was just as simple as thinking it and dismissing it. I don't want to give anyone the idea that she pondered it when shes says right here she didn't.

I could not find comment as to why they didn't try some sort of more permanent birth control. Perhaps I overlooked it, though I did search hard for it. And I don't remember reading anything other than they were using birth control (she doesn't say what).

And now that I have the book back in my hands, I went to the end again to try to find the parts I was thinking of this morning - where I'd hoped to find...hope and still didn't. She does say this...she was talking about how her last son was born on her birthday. That was very hard for her because she did not want to share that day. And yet it happened and she felt God had to take that from her too - the last thing possible - to get her to believe that her baby "was not an accident, not a mistake, not an afterthought...That he was a surprise only to me...Nothing about him was a surprise to God." (p. 122) I appreciated her acknowledgement of that. Speaking as a "surprise child," I would have to say learning that I was planned by God was one of the longest, slowest, hardest lessons to learn, but what a healing revelation once it finally sunk in!

As far as the "hope" goes - she does encourage these moms that they'll be more "resilient and resourceful, wiser and deeper..." (p. 124) and she tells them things get easier. That's good, I suppose.

My favorite paragraph in the whole book was the last one. That was when she talked about being unable to measure what she would have lost had these children not been part of her life. The joy and surprise and wonder of life and God's sovereignty was very present in that last paragraph, and I so wish she would have started the book with that vein...and moved to the rest.

Having said all of that, and getting back to my original statement that I don't like controversy, I want to say that my point in becoming so wrapped up in this is not about silencing this woman. She has a story, she has her pain, and she has a right to share that story and pain. My point in this, and the point I tried to make in the letter I wrote is that for every woman out there who has faced an unexpected pregnancy...there is a child who is the surprise child. And our side of things comes with an entire set of joys and trials too. And our side is just as unheard on the larger scale as hers was...which is why she spoke out. And it's why I speak out here.

As I read the book, many times I wrote in the margin, "we feel this too." She talked about how she cried and protested and prayed and questioned. You know - surprise kids do those things too. Maybe not every day. But at some point. And she said she felt alone. Sometimes we do too. She called it a private pain - same here. She talked about needing to pretend that everything was okay. Check!

The Bible says that sometimes we go through trials so that later we can comfort others with the comfort we ourselves have received - that's my paraphrase. This is what she did, and I am glad for the sake of those she's helped that she did it. All I ask that she and other such mothers consider great care and respect in the phrasing of the story. They're not talking about a disease or injury that can't feel the sting of the words. They're talking about a human being - who feels all those emotions too.

Part Two

Well, I listened to part two of Focus on the Family yesterday and found very little to improve my opinion over part one. Still, I sat down last night with the second half of the book, certain I would find a bright and cheerful story at the end. I really didn't. It certainly grew more hopeful than early sentences about second worst fears and feeling like life had ended...but it didn't get as warm and fuzzy as I'd hoped.

I wouldn't say that I'm as angry now as I was then. I'm more just sad...sad for her two caboose children who have to know (because she said so) that the warm rushes of joy and excitement that existed for their four older siblings really didn't show up for them. Sad because I think it's a topic that she more than needed to write about, but she could have approached it in such a better way.

I've written a letter of my own - which I read to my sister over the phone last night. She laughed twice (hadn't really meant to be funny, but sometimes I am without intention) and said my degree must have served me well because it sounded very good. That was all I needed. After practicing it on the work ladies today, I plan to send it. Don't really expect anything to come of it - but I think I need to do this.

Too Tired to Think

This is one of those times that I'm going to post and probably regret it later. But I'll deal with later when later gets here.

For some reason that I neither understand nor appreciate, this week has been one of those emotionally draining weeks. Things that used to upset me in the olden days (never get a chance to use that phrase) but I seem to have outgrown being bothered by...have once again surfaced to really get to me. Mostly I just want to take a mental nap.

I won't go into all the petty things that have piled up to cause my need for a mental nap, but I will mention the one that had me flitting about the office yesterday with out-of-control blood pressure. (I'm sure it amused the co-workers, at the very least.)

I can't stand quiet (shocker) so I work with the radio playing in the background. And by background, I mean everyone in my hallway can hear it. Especially if David Phelps is singing. In the morning, my station plays a lot of talk radio and sometimes I get sick of the talk and switch over to music saved on my computer. I should have done that yesterday.

I was listening to Focus on the Family - a fine program that I like and support in viewpoint. But yesterday they had a panel of women who had, at some point in their lives, faced an unexpected pregnancy. The "lead" guest was a lady named Leslie Leyland Fields, who has actually written a book called "Surprise Child." She and her husband had four children and were in their forties when they had a surprise child...and then a second.

Now let me just say I totally understand why she and the other ladies would be angry...furious...scared...disappointed...whatever you want to call it by the news that the life they thought was ahead was, in fact, NOT ahead, and instead was a cuddly baby who turns into a screaming mystery without warning. That I get. I don't begrudge them any of those feelings.

What broke my heart and sent my blood pressure soaring was the way the author in particular described her experience out loud to a gigantic audience that held not only the mothers she so desperately wanted to relate to - but also a host of those surprise children all grown up. She talked about being pregnant late in life being her second worst fear and how she was so angry...and on and on and on....

I was absolutelyfurious by the end of the broadcast...because I am that child. Well, not HER child, but the child of parents who were very done having a family and nearly done raising said family. I'm the kid that grew up feeling nothing but love and acceptance from my family but still knowing I was not in the plan and learning to find way to understand that God still had a plan for my life.

Though I've often rolled my eyes at the stories I've heard about my rather unplanned and unorthodox arrival, I'm very thankful my Mom never described it quite the way this lady did. I felt so sorry for her kids. I wondered if they felt compelled to introduce themselves this way: "Hi, I'm my Mom's second worst fear come true."

I was so irritated, I went straight to the bookstore after I exercised, bought her book, and read the first half of it without stopping. I wrote all my rebuttal opinions in the margins. Let's just say it's a well-written-in book.

Okay - that was just my venting and there's no good way to close it. I'm sure I'll have more to say on the subject later. I hear the panel is back on the radio today for part two. I've been encouraged to listen with an open mind and hear the "blessing after the pain." This is not exactly my gift, but I'll try.

And maybe I'll just write my own book from the perspective of second worst fears come true. (I guess I'll have to come up with my own title, since my Mom has never called me that.)

Especially for Julie

I'm posting this especially for my sister, Julie. I know she will appreciate it.

Shortly after the tornado, Golf Digest sent a little team out to Greensburg to follow the school's golf team. I remember seeing the guys when I was out visiting. Well, the August issue of Golf Digest has a rather lengthy article covering not only the tornado story, but the lives of the guys and their golf (what are they - games? matches?) in the days following the tornado.

Mom, who has probably never held a Golf Digest in her entire life, parked in the recliner and read the whole thing. She was mostly searching for the reference to Cassie. Cassie's boyfriend was on the golf team and they described his girlfriend as, I believe "the all-American beauty" and something about "constantly at his side." It kind of cracked us up (though we agree about the beauty part).

A Visit from the Family

Here are some pictures from Lori, Jeff, and Cassie's recent visit.

Cassie stayed with me and spent some quality time with Miss Braeya Jo. Kaegan gets very wary of anyone other than the standard home residents, so he didn't make too many appearances during her visit. Here, Braeya was most anxious to get back to playing/getting into things she shouldn't. Not too interested in photo shoots.

Saturday, we spent some time at my parents' house. Cassie wanted to update some of her photo collection, so here we are. We continued to get comments about how much we look alike. Of course, she was also told she looked like Lindsay Lohan and Anne Hathaway. I'm going to guess those comparisons stop with her and do not transfer to me.

And here I am with Lori. Very cute new little jacket she'd gotten (post tornado.) I guess the great minds think alike when it comes to wearing pink!

REBUILDING: God is Good

Lori, Jeff, and Cassie have been here visiting for a few days. It's been so nice to have them - and it's been so nice for them to be in a place that has buildings and electricity!

Funny how when you're far away from it all, it's easy to forget what it's like. For example: Cassie went with me to church yesterday, and at the end of the service, our pastor was making a point about how it's easy to overlook the needs in people's hearts because we don't look closely enough. He said "When you walk down the street, what do you see? Buildings and street signs?" As he went on to say "Or do you see the people..." Cassie leaned over to me and said "No." Though she said it with a smile...it's a sad thing. It's a whole different world where they are. And even though the news stations have gone on to fresher tragedies, this place still hurts. 

Below are four REBUILDING posts - catching up on life through Cassie's camera.

One thing people comment about when they see tornado pictures is just the barrenness of the trees. It was so strange to drive into Greensburg shortly after the tornado and see normal, normal, normal, BOOM - no leaves. You could tell exactly where the tornado had been because of the broken, leaf-less trees. 

Here is a pictures taken by my Mom less than a week after the tornado hit.

By the time I arrived about a week and a half after the storm, tiny signs of life had arrived and baby leaves were sprouting out of branches that otherwise looked dead.

Cassie took this picture just before they left for Indiana - as you can see, God has quite a plan in place for His creation!

REBUILDING: The Final Before Photos

The tornado occurred on Lori's 47th birthday. Happy birthday to her, huh? Anyway, this picture was taken just a few hours (probably less than four) before the tornado. This is Lori with her stash-o-gifts. The wooden angel in her lap is the door decoration I'd sent to her. She hung it up right after the picture fest and never saw it again.

Cassie showed me these birthday pictures - the last ever taken in the upstairs of their home. She had one more picture on her phone that she took of Midnight in the downstairs bathroom while they were waiting for the storm warning to end...which never came.

Interesting side note that I'd not known before: Lori told me that when the word came circling about that said there could be a storm, Cassie went through the house and shut all the bedroom doors so that she would be able to find Midnight, should they have to go to the basement. Apparently she was known for hiding under beds and Cassie didn't want to have to dig her out. I see her woman's intuition is already in place.

REBUILDING: Interesting Aftermath

Since Cassie was in town, I decided to take advantage of getting a few interesting pictures of the tornado that I'd not captured on my own camera.

This was one of the pianos in the church. I believe Lori said it was the fellowship hall piano and not the sanctuary piano. Clearly it's not an anywhere piano anymore. That's a study Bible on the piano, but I don't know if it landed there or if someone put it there.

While Cassie was here (well the whole family was here...but this part is about her), we had some aunt/niece bonding time by going to a movie. First let me explain the rather monumental difference between going to a movie here and going to a movie there - on a good day! They have a one screen theater. One movie a week - probably only two or three showings of it. Don't like what's playing? Either leave town, watch something you own (not sure if there's a rental store, even), or just do something else. So to have options of movies and times is quite a treat. And clearly, the one screen is no longer showing....

This is the row of pine trees that lined the parsonage property. Many of the belongings they found were in this row of trees. By the time I visited a week and a half later, most of these had been cut down.

This is not plant. The Twister game really did land like this in the pines. I think Cassie said she pulled down the bottom corner so you could read it, but otherwise, this is untouched. Ironic.