Road Rage

And for once - it wasn't me.

Yesterday, Marie and I went to Brown County for the day. It was my first day to be up and around for more than five hours at a time, and today I'm feeling the effects of that. But we had planned this trip forever ago, and unless I was throwing up, I was going. So off we went.

We were actually nearing the end of our day - a leisurely trip filled with shopping and eating and meeting up with one of my former co-workers and her new baby. Marie and I had gone into a candle shop that was in a pretty long building. As we entered, I noticed there was a sign for the building behind the long shop that said there was a rubber stamp store back there. Well of course we'd have to go there too! So we left the candle shop through the front door and began our walk down the alley beside the long building to get to the little store behind it.

We happened to notice that to our left were a couple of cars in a predicament. An older lady was parked in the alley facing the same direction we were going. And coming toward her was a sports car driven by an older man. Now by "older" I don't mean little eighty year old grandma and grandpa people. But I do mean way old enough to know better. I would imagine both drivers were sixty-something. The man inched toward her and Marie said to me "Is he going to hit her?" So we started walking more slowly to take in the situation which was just about to get interesting.

The lady rolled down her window and said "WHAT ARE YOU DOING? I WAS TOLD I CAN PARK HERE FOR JUST A MINUTE! THE SIGN SAYS I CAN BE HERE! DO YOU EXPECT ME TO MOVE?" Well, apparently by his inching toward her, yes that was exactly what he expected her to do.

The lady continued her tirade with multiple expletives and "DO YOU EXPECT ME TO BACK INTO THE STREET?" (If you need a pretty accurate comparison to the sound of her voice, and you've ever watched The Nanny, she sounded just like Fran's Mom. Kind of looked like her, too, come to think of it.) At one point, the lady (or maybe it was her passenger, I'm not sure) actually got out of her car, walked over to the sports car, pounded on the guy's window and delivered more choice words directly to his face.

By this time, it was raining, and Marie and I were standing in the alley, in the rain, cracking up. People everywhere were staring. In the end, the guy lost and had to back all the way through the alley and leave another way.

It was hysterical. Best road rage I've seen for a while. Definitely picture worthy - which is why I took one. I'll see if I can't get it enlarged a little and post it. (I didn't have the guts to mess with zooming. I was afraid that lady would be after me next.)

Midnight Mac n Cheese

I love vacation. I love it because I get to do things that "responsible Rebekah" wouldn't do.

Things like eating mac n cheese at 11:30 at night. That's not meal time! But I'm on vacation, so I can do it if I want.

Things like buying those iced sugar cookies from Wal Mart. I love those things but I refuse to pay whatever they cost - because I could make them much cheaper myself. But I'm on vacation, so today I threw a box of them in the cart. (I paid for them too, fyi.)

Things like stopping my work at 3 pm to take a nap or watch Dr. Phil. (Two things I never ever get to do on a real day.)

Things like staying up to watch the Tonight Show in its entirety - because I can. I'm usually awake at the time the Tonight Show goes off the air - but I'm trying to be responsible, so I make myself leave the TV off while attempting to fall asleep.

So there's part of why I like vacation. I'm still scrapping away - I think I'm up to being four months old in my baby book. If I work really hard tomorrow, I might be able to finish up through my first birthday. That would mean forfeiting the 3 p.m. nap, though. Tough call.

Meanwhile - here's some pictures from the recent adventure I like to call "Mama bought a camera." Actually Daddy bought the camera for Mama for their anniversary and her birthday and I forget how many other holidays. For Mom to learn how to run anything above a disposable camera is a great accomplishment.


I was so mad in this picture that I refused to smile until Mom said she would quit trying to take pictures if I was going to be "that way." Not wanting to impede progress, I stopped being "that way" long enough to flash a "kind but insincere" smile. This is my sister Julie, by the way, with me.

I was slightly happier here - mostly because I was on my way home. Not sure why I was so grouchy that day.
Julie was teaching Mom to use the timer. I'm gonna guess she's forgotten that lesson. But she did do a GREAT job on their vacation - she had lots of pictures and people had heads and EVERYTHING! (Family joke is that every picture Mom ever took of us growing up only got us from the neck down. We thought digital would cure this and so far, it seems to be working!)

Scrapping, Sickness, and Sleeping In

I'm thoroughly enjoying my vacation despite GETTING SICK! Who has time for that? Apparently I do. :( I actually figured this would happen - once I stopped going 200 miles an hour. That's when I usually get sick. So I consoled myself with a pan of macaroni and cheese and a pork chop. Well, I didn't eat the WHOLE pan of mac n cheese at once - but the part I had was very yummy. Mom asked why I didn't just have chicken broth. Excuse me? Chicken broth? I'm sick, not being punished! Bring me some FOOD!

I've been able to catch up on sleep - which has been amazing. This morning I caught up on it a bit more than I intended (though I was still up by 10, thankyouverymuch) because yesterday when I reset the clocks after a power outage, I got the AM/PM reversed on either the clock or the alarm. So here about an hour ago - the alarm went off. Scared the snot out of the cats. I thought it was funny.

My baby album is coming along. That would be the album of MY baby pictures, not any sort of announcement of babies to come. (I do NOT need any rumors going.) In the album, I'm actually born now. :) I'm working on the page of when I came home from the hospital. I was 10 days old when I came home - life started out a little rough for me. Thankfully it's gotten much better since. I decided to get all the junk out of the way at the beginning.

I had to stay so long because I couldn't keep my food down (a problem I have long since corrected). While I was there, I also sustained my first life-scarring event. Literally. I wasn't even a whole day old when someone scratched my face. The nurses told my mom that I did it, but given that I didn't have any ripped nails (some things never change), Mom didn't believe them. They told her that the scratch would go away, and it did - but it left behind a nice inch long scar on my cheek. You can still see it. There are some things makeup won't hide.

Anyway, here's a picture of Dad n me on my first night at home. I would have posted the ones of my sisters with me, but given that it was the 70's....and Christmas is coming...I'll just post this one.

Bits for Sunday, October 21, 2007

Last week, I told you that I love lists – to a rather ridiculous degree – and this week I thought I would share with you the first bit of that list-o-twenty-five that I have for this year. I share it with you partly so you can see what I’ve been learning and partly because outside of hitting a remnant of a skunk with my car this week, I’ve not really had much story-worthy news to use for writing material.

So here it is. The first of my five areas of commitment for 2007. Here were my covenants and commitments, how I’ve been doing, and what I’ve been learning.

Area One: My Relationship With God – I decided to choose a theme verse for each area, hoping that it would remind me that there really was a spiritual purpose behind my determinations for the year. I made this particular area the first one because it should be first in life no matter what. My verse to accompany the area is this: Above all else, guard your heart, for it is the wellspring of life. – Proverbs 4:23

1. Do daily faith study. In 2006, the Wesleyan denomination challenged all its members and attendees to read through the Bible in one year flat. I’d never done that before, and I love a good challenge, so I did it. I would say I hated it, but that starts to sound like I hated reading the Bible and that’s just not true. But reading it so fast did nothing for me. I’m a “chewer” of Scripture. Reading the whole Bible through in one year was overwhelming. I got reader’s TMJ. So this year, I respectfully asked God if it would be okay to back down a bit on the daily volume of reading. I sensed that I needed to study up on the subject of faith – though I didn’t know why – so I researched how many times the word “faith” appears in the Bible. I discovered there were enough verses that included some version of that word to read one verse Monday-Saturday and two on Sundays. I had no idea what God wanted to teach me through this, but I felt there was a good reason, so I did it.

I was so excited to discover that the first mention of the word “faith” in the Bible comes from Genesis 24 – the account of Abraham’s servant going out to find a bride for Isaac. He stumbled upon a woman named Rebekah. I knew it was going to be a good year when that was the start of the faith study. And while I’ve learned so much from reading through the faith verses bit by bit, it’s an added blessing to be able to wrap up my year by attending a Bible study about faith. It’s an intense study with much homework, but it’s building quickly upon the foundation that I’ve been slowly construction over the year.

The verdict? Someday I might come back and do a more in-depth study on this topic, but for now, I believe it was just what I needed to study hard this year. Next year, my daily devotions will move on to a new study pattern.

2. Spend Tuesday lunch hours in the prayer chapel. In 2006, I finally fulfilled an assignment God gave me several months earlier. That assignment was to go to the prayer chapel on campus every Tuesday and pray during my lunch hour. I have written before about that first assignment and the great things I learned during that seven week stretch. In late 2006, I began to sense the call to pick up that practice again.

So for the last year, I’ve spent every Tuesday’s lunch hour parked in a pew in the tiny chapel – praying hard. Some weeks I leave with goose bumps because God has really spoken clearly. Other weeks I leave thinking “Well, I showed up, God. Hope that counts for something.” Sometimes it’s been hard to go – because I’ve had to turn down a lunch invitation to keep this commitment. But I know that these moments in quiet prayer are not in vain. I don’t know everything God has been doing behind the scenes, but I know He has used the discipline of that time – the quietness of that time – to work in me.

The verdict? While this won’t be something that I will covenant to do each week again next year (unless God says something about it between now and then) – it has taught me a good discipline of making a place of prayer, and I know I will go back to that chapel when I have to really pray.

3. Go on one personal retreat. Shannon Ethridge wrote Every Woman’s Battle, which was the book used in a Bible study I attended around this time last year. Toward the end of the book, she said “In addition to putting aside some time each day to rest in the arms of God and converse with Jesus, I recommend that you schedule a sabbatical alone with God at least once or twice each year. Based on the word Sabbath, a sabbatical is an extended amount of time set apart for the further cultivation of a love relationship with Jesus.” I decided to try it and see what would happen. So I booked a hotel room out of town and at the end of April, I packed up my car and drove a couple of hours to spend a day and evening enjoying a time away with God.

I wrote about that experience earlier this year – it was definitely one of the most pivotal moments of my spiritual life. I never knew that God could totally saturate a hotel room and time of Bible study/conversation like He did. It was amazing. I agree with Shannon – every woman should make that a priority.

The verdict? I’m sold on this and plan to make it a yearly practice. Because it is so ingrained in me now, I won’t put it back on the commitment list. I know it will happen even without being there. If finances permit, I’d like to do two a year instead of just one.

4. Increase listening time. I realized I did a lot of talking to God, but rarely did I make the practice to STOP TALKING AND START LISTENING. I’m sure God was trying to answer my rapid-fire question, but the line of fire didn’t stop long enough for Him to get a word in edge-wise. I wanted to make a habit of finding places in my day where I could cut out my own talk (or other noise…music in the car, TV, whatever) to specifically listen to God. I knew I would have to find the best times to do that through trial and error, but I wanted to have more moments where I became silent and offered Him the opportunity to speak. It has been a good thing. I still probably talk more than I listen – which is not a good thing – but I have definitely increased my silent time.

The verdict? I think I’ve learned how to actually practice this without keeping it on the itemized list. Making a point of doing it this year has created a good habit.

5. Put on armor daily. Earlier this year I shared with you that this was one of my commitments. It was born from a challenge Marie gave me…a challenge someone else had given her. Every morning, I get up, go to the bathroom to get ready, and as I fight with my hair (a battle requiring armor all its own), I read through and pray aloud each piece of the armor of God as described in Ephesians 6. While there is nothing magical in the words, reading them aloud, turning them into prayer, and forcing myself to think about how those words apply to the person I am that day and the situations I’ll be facing that day, really makes a difference. This very week, in fact, some things would have gone very differently for me, had I not been acutely aware of my need to be suited up with that armor. Though it didn’t eliminate the struggle, I was in much better shape to do battle for having completed that commitment.

The verdict? Much like listening, this is now a habit. I will keep doing it and perhaps add to it the practice of daily praying other Scripture as circumstances demand.

So there you have it. Area one – the first five of my twenty-five commitments.

It's a Scrapfest!

I have several scrapbook projects running simultaneously. That way, when I'm bored with one book, I can just move to a different one for a while. This weekend I began my baby album. My Mom did a great job of making a baby album for me - saving all the newspaper clippings and shower invitations in addition to all the Polaroid pictures.

But the newspaper clippings aren't laminated...and you know, I am getting up there in years. So it's time to preserve the yellowing paper. Plus, when I was born, all the albums were the "magnetic" pages that have since been condemned by scrapbook authorities worldwide. It was just as well. Mine had lost their magnetism and had all fallen apart anyway. So I've gathered up everything and started the scrapping project. So far, I'm still in the womb. Probably in five or six pages, I'll start making appearances in photos. (Although I did find a very fascinating one of Blogger Deb that I debated posting...but hesitated to do so if it would lead to her hating me.)

At the last minute, Mom found this picture, which I'm glad she found so that I have an excuse to use my "Baby's First Bath" stamp.

Having said that - I'm impressed with her patience. I would have returned me to the hospital and asked for a refund.

Like Mother...Like Daughter

Since I'm working on this baby scrapbook, I asked Mom if I could borrow baby pictures of everyone in the family. I need them for one of the "family tree" pages. She sent this one of herself - sorry that my scanner was being weird and cutting off the top of her head.


Guess this shows that right from the start...I looked like Mama:

Burned Popcorn, Residual Skunk Smell, and Other Adventures

Someone just burned popcorn - that will make a fun smell for the rest of the afternoon. Kind of like last weekend when I accidentally hit some remnant of a skunk on the road. For days...that thing hung onto my front left tire. I think it's finally gone - or maybe I just got used to the smell. But this popcorn smell is going to linger for a while. I'm on the tail end of my lunch hour, counting down the hours...minutes?...until vacation begins for me.

This has been a very long week, and for once, it wasn't because of work. It was just a long week for my heart. I've been in a Beth Moore Bible study for the past six or seven weeks and I knew at some point, things were going to get really serious and I was going to "feel" the effects of what I'm learning. This week was my week. Proverbs 3:11-12 says "My son, do not despise the Lord's discipline and do not resent his rebuke,because the Lord disciplines those he loves, as a father the son he delights in." He must love me a lot because I've been disciplined more than once this week. And it has hurt like crazy - and left me crying in the Wendy's drive-thru yesterday, actually - but it has been a good hurt. I'd rather hurt and know He's refining me than not hurt and wonder if He loves me at all.

So between being SO DONE with daylight savings, being exhausted from the discipline, and being sore from having my way-too-tight back worked on yesterday, I'm ready for time off work.

Happy Dictionary Day!

If you're looking for yet another reason to have an office carry-in or you need to justify a trip to Dairy Queen - never fear! Today is Dictionary Day!

According to an article I found online, this esteemed holiday was established in honor of Noah Webster, who was born back in 1758.

To honor this day, I would like to share with you my "word of the month." Being a writer, I like to think I have a decent vocabulary. Every now and then I try to toss out a "big word" just for fun. And then I'll encounter a situation that reminds me I have much to learn about this English language.

One of the components of my job is to read thank you notes that students submit for scholarships they've received. Most of the notes are great and are able to be forwarded to the scholarship donors. But occasionally we'll find a note that could stand some content rewording...or worse...a complete grammar overhaul.

A couple of weeks ago, one of the girls at the front desk brought me a letter from a student whose letters always intrigue me. He's a great writer and his stories are fascinating. I sat down to read his letter, and when I reached the second paragraph, I found a word I did not know! That wouldn't be so unusual - but English is not his native language. I wrote to my supervisor and said, "How is it that someone who grew up speaking something else now has a better command of the language I've spoken my whole life!?!?!"

He came in the office a few days later and I told him he'd stumped me. I'd been forced to look up the word (just to make sure he'd used it correctly...although why did I doubt him?). He laughed and said "Isn't that a great word?" Yes, yes it is.

So just in case this is a new one for you too - here you go. My word of the month, shared with you in honor of Mr. Webster's birthday:

Ebullient: overflowing with fervor, enthusiasm, or excitement; high-spirited.

Bits from Bekah's Life

I love lists.

Last year, in leading the Ladies Bible Study at my church, I chose to teach from Gracia Burnham’s book To Fly Again. The first chapter in the book was called “Unfinished Lists,” and in it, Gracia talked about stumbling upon a list she had written the weekend she and her husband were kidnapped by terrorists. The list she found included all sorts of little household maintenance items – but she never had a chance to cross anything off the list. Gracia and Martin were in captivity for a year and eleven days before he was killed and she was rescued and brought back to the States. To this day, Gracia doesn’t know if the items on her list were ever completed by someone else – but that particular day, the priorities in her life shifted. Her daily list stopped including bookkeeping, planning menus, and cleaning and instead took on tasks like surviving gun battles, avoiding jungle diseases, and finding enough food to have strength for the next day.

In Bible study, we always had a question of the night, and that week the question was this: Where do you keep your lists and are you one of those people who writes down something you’ve already done just so you can immediately cross it off the list?
That would be me. I love the sense of accomplishment – and I frequently write down at least one thing I’ve already completed. Crossing off something immediately fuels me to complete the rest of the list.

A couple of weeks ago, I went list crazy. One of my friends usually writes back and forth with me quite a bit but she had a busy week and wasn’t able to talk as much as usual, and in her absence, I started making lists. I wrote to her and said Come back! I’m starting to make lists like Izzie made muffins! (That last part refers to an episode of Grey’s Anatomy when one of the characters, Izzie, grieving the loss of her fiancé, coped by baking muffins. Her roommates came home to find every square inch of the kitchen covered in muffins and Izzie poised at the mixing bowl, whipping up yet another batch.)

My lists were not about tasks that needed to be accomplished this week, nor were they rosters of Christmas card recipients or suggestions of gifts to give or receive. Mine were goals…covenants…commitments. Things to accomplish in the coming year and in the next decade as well. (Told you I went list crazy!)

Some of you might remember that at the beginning of this year, I created a list of 25 covenants and commitments for the year 2007. Some of you know what those 25 things are, because I’ve shared that list with you. Some of you (Mom) have raised an eyebrow and tried to avoid calling me crazy for being (overly?) ambitious.

It seems strange to me that this year is almost over, and the list I’ve stared at during accountability every week will be a list of the past. A new list is ready to take its place. And I’ve decided in the weeks to come that I will share more about those covenants and commitments that I made last December. But today I want to just explain to you why I did what I did.

About five years ago, I taught the book A Woman After God’s Own Heart to my Bible study ladies. I was pretty young to be teaching a Bible study – but I learned more from this book than any other I taught. The author, Elizabeth George, has a driven approach to life that isn’t easy, but it’s definitely doable. One particular piece of advice she gave stuck with me so much that I used it as a model for my covenants and commitments this year. Elizabeth wrote:

…Select five areas you’d like to become an expert in and label a file for each of them…What do you want to be known for?...such personal spiritual growth is all about preparation for ministry. It’s about filling yourself up first so that you have something to give in ministry!

So I did a version of that very thing this year. I selected five areas that needed discipline in my life. Five areas where distinct improvement was sorely needed. And in each area, I chose five things that I wanted to make a commitment to do. Some items are a daily assignment. Some are only done once throughout the course of the year. Some are much more random. But each needs to be addressed before 2008 drops into Times Square.

As for the “covenants and commitments” part…I did that because I can break New Year’s Resolutions with the best of them. I can sit down at 11:00 on December 31st and throw together a haphazard “this would be nice” goal list and within 24 hours, I’ve usually messed up everything on the list.

But last year I started early. I was purposeful. I prayed about the areas I felt God wanted me to improve and I made specific goals for how to accomplish those items. I set up an accountability system (which has been an incredible blessing). I found Scripture to back up each area – to remind me that the things I intended to do were not just “nice things to do.” They were things that I purposed to do for God. And for that reason, I called them my covenants and commitments. I take them extremely seriously because I’ve not just made a hopeful goal – I’ve made a promise to God.

Over the summer, I met with another friend who wanted to know more about my “five fat files” of commitments, and I was excited to see her take an adaptation of them into her own life. I look forward to celebrating with her at the end of the year when she looks back over her commitment to change and sees her success!

So that’s my latest adventure with lists. I know that all of you are probably more…normal?...than I am, and a list of 25 things may not be necessary for you. But while you still have a couple of months before the new year begins – maybe you could think about a list of your own. I promise that the rewards of accomplishing it (and by that I mean really accomplishing it – not crossing something off before you begin) are huge!

Come Quickly, Meijer!

I have this habit of checking the newspaper online every morning to make sure I'm not in the obituaries. If I am, I want to go home before putting in a full day's work! Usually that's my only check of the paper each day (unless I'm awaiting breaking news of some sort) - but yesterday I happened to check back later in the day and saw the best news EVER.

We're getting a Meijer.

Mind you, I probably won't shop there. I like Meijer, but I'm too cheap to shop there. But my philosophy is this: if we have one, it will clear out some of the Wal Mart crowd and then maybe I can actually shop there without bordering on a stroke.

Today I went to Wal Mart. I'm having company for lunch tomorrow and needed to buy cake pans for the pumpkin spice cake I want to make. And then I had just a couple of other things on the list too: milk, hairspray, that kind of stuff. And of course, everyone had descended upon the store, bringing with them their unruly children.

And I made the terrible mistake of failing to caffeinate before going shopping. When I say I'm addicted to caffeine - I mean addicted. Just ask my co-workers who accidentally speak to me pre-coffee in the mornings. But on Saturdays I don't always have coffee or tea early in the day because I sleep in really late and figure that will override my need to caffeinate. Today I was wrong. So there I was, in Wal Mart, with some kid screaming his fool head off one aisle over, a lack-of-caffeine headache brewing above my eyes, and I ran into Deb. (As in blogging buddy, Deb.)

She was so kind and actually admitted to knowing me - but her first words were about the new Meijer and when it might actually be ready to open. (Turns out that tomorrow is good for both of us.) I'm glad to know I'm not the only one who feels this way.

So....Meijer? Welcome! Welcome and HURRY!!!!!!!!!!

Question of the Day

So I'm taking an unofficial poll and welcome all opinions.


I was telling my story from the restaurant to the girls in the office next door yesterday, and they all said I should call the restaurant to tell them what happened. They said if they owned a restaurant and people were being harassed inside it, they'd want to know. It could kind of kill business, you know.



But it feels weird to call them up and say "So I was eating at your fine establishment until I ran out when the creeps of the world came in...."



Call? Or don't call?

Various Holidays

A very HAPPY "Take Your Teddy Bear to Work" day to each of you. I checked online to see what this one was all about and found the following explanation on the emotionscards.com website: "To honor all that our Teddy Bears do for us, citizens of the world are encouraged to show their appreciation by bringing their beloved Teddy Bears to Work with them on October 11th. Teddy Bears the world over will be proud to meet their owners work associates and their teddy bears."

Well my teddy bear is actually a Build-A-Bear Bunny (yes, you read that right) - and I didn't bring him today. He's home on my bed keeping an eye on the cats. That's a full time job for him. Had I brought him to work, I might be tempted to curl up and take a nap - especially considering it is a take-a-nap sort of day.

In other holiday news, happy happy birthday to my Dad, who turns the big 7-5 today! Dad is 75 going on 30 - with far more energy than I ever hope to have on any given day. He still does crazy stuff like staying up until 4 in the morning working on hobbies, climbing around in trees (cutting wood), and working harder in one day than I work in one week. I hope today is a NOT work-filled for him!

And if you haven't been here in a couple of days and need a good laugh - do scroll on down and read the next post. Go ahead. Have a laugh at my expense.

Just Never A Dull Moment

As I've said before - life is comical.

This evening I went to dinner with Rachel from my office. (Rachel is also the one who works out with me - you've read about her in other posts.) She took me to dinner as a thank you for some random times when I'd given her a ride to and from work. Since she was thanking me, she let me pick the culinary destination. Those of you who know me well will understand that for me to actually choose a place to eat is a long and agonizing process. In very unBekahlike fashion, I decided pretty quickly on a place I rarely get to go, and she'd never been.

We went in, ordered our food, chose our table, and had a great dinner. Food was good, conversation was good, life was good. This particular restaurant has a couple of separate dining spaces and we'd chosen the one that was empty - at least when we got there.

Toward the end of our meal, a couple of rather questionable looking, greasy guys came in. I couldn't say for certain how old they might have been - but it wasn't their age that bothered me so much as their general look. I was a little uncomfortable but kind of forgot about it. They milled about and then one sat down at a table behind us (so my back was to him and Rachel could see his face). The other guy, a great big guy with frightening eye issues approached our table. In a voice that sounded kind of like Roz from Monsters Inc. (if Roz happened to be drunk and slurry) he initiated the following conversation.

Eye Guy: Anybody in here wanna smoke?

(Rachel and I ignore him and continue our conversation.)

Eye Guy: Anybody in here wanna smoke?

(Rachel and I realize he is now standing beside our table looking - potentially - at us, and we must respond. We shake our heads no.)

Eye Guy addressing me: You don't smoke?

Me: No.

Eye Guy again addressing me: That your daughter?

(At this point I can see Rachel trying not to laugh and I'm trying not to punch him. WHAT? She is FOUR YEARS YOUNGER THAN I AM!)

Me: Uh no. (Beginning to gather up my stuff to leave.)

Eye Guy: Oh so you guys are college girls.

(Rachel and I remain silent and she begins to clean up her stuff too.)

Eye Guy: I was on a campus once and really felt God there.

Me (Mentally): Really? Is that why you offered us a smoke a second ago before insinuating that we were MOTHER AND DAUGHTER???

Eye Guy: We don't very often see pretty girls here in this town.

Creepy Guy Number Two From Behind Me: Yeah and you're real pretty. Both of you.

Me (Mentally): Right! Cause the back of my head is ultra sexy and that's ALL YOU'VE SEEN!

Eye Guy (to both of us): What are you doing this weekend?

Rachel: We're married. (At this point, we both stand up to leave.)

Eye Guy: Oh come on - you guys don't wanna do some boogie woogie? (Though I was unsure of what his version of "boogie woogie" might entail, he demonstrated some sort of unattractive dance move which gave me a small hint.)

Me: I'm married and I have to go. (Hey, I'm part of the Bride of Christ, thankyouverymuch.)

Rachel and I ran out at this point and I was moving so fast I stepped on her shoe and it came clear off her foot! We were SO creeped out, but we laughed all the way home about how he thought she was my daughter! Later tonight she called me and when I answered the phone she said, "Hey, Mom, wanna go work out?"



I am calling for a hair dye appointment again.

Bits for Sunday, October 7, 2007

I’m a Quaker turned Wesleyan who attends a Baptist Bible study. If you can figure that one out…good for you.

This morning I went to the homecoming service at the church where I spent the first nineteen years of my life. (That would be the Quaker church, in case you’re lost in my multi-denominational loop.) I’d visited a couple of times over the past decade, but this was the first time in more recent years that I had been inside the building, and I was excited to go.

Don’t get me wrong – I love the church I attend on a regular basis. The past decade spent there has been one of growth and learning and teaching and new friendships that I need and love. But there’s something to be said for going home.

Of course there were the moments of vanity leading up to today. I had to go for a “trim ‘n thin” so that my hair wouldn’t be some monstrosity garnering unwanted attention. I pondered buying a new outfit, but given that nearly everything I own has been purchased within the last decade, that seemed an unnecessary purchase. Then there was the laborious poring over the recipe file to decide what dishes to take to the carry-in dinner. I narrowed it down to two and took them both.

But once I put all that aside, I looked forward to seeing people I hadn’t seen for a long time. And even though I was sure some of them would be people I have seen, since for the most part, we all still live in the same general area, I was excited to see them again in that particular environment.

And I did see so many people that I used to spend time with every Sunday. My high school Sunday School teacher, Jamie, was there – and I remembered all the weeks of sitting in her class, learning from her perspective. There were only a couple of us in the class, but she came every week and taught just the two of us. She put up with our “creative” methods of giving Sunday school offering and allowed class to stop so we could giggle when we heard the ushers being bombarded by a deluge of coins falling out of whatever trap we’d constructed that day.

I saw a couple of my fellow nursery worker buddies. Bonnie and I worked together every second Sunday, and Iantha and I covered every fifth Sunday. Some of those kids we used to chase around were old enough to be running the sound booth and working in the nursery themselves – and even playing in the bell choir. I tried not to dwell on what that meant about my age. (I’m not old, you know.)

Until I saw the tables set up for the bell choir, I’d completely forgotten that I used to play in that. I managed the tiny little bells on the end that just received a random note now and then. It was nice to see that now those bells are taken over by other kids who are just about the age I was when I played them.

Some things hadn’t really changed. The ushers still picked on me. For part of the service, I sat with friends I used to sit with 20 years ago, but we’re all much taller now. The red hymnals are still in the racks, and the pew cushion still leaves a little criss-cross pattern in your wrist if you rest your hand on it too long. I remembered the little wooden offering plates and the great big pulpit that easily hides three people.

After the agonizing decision to leave a decade ago, I wrote this: The first Sunday after I left, I visited a Mennonite church where my best friend attends. During the sermon, I looked at the bulletin. The front of it said, “Even the sparrow finds a home.” I flipped it over to look at the back, which had a responsive reading, a reflection, and a prayer on it. The reflection part opened by saying, “When I was a child, our family moved frequently, yet we didn’t change homes – only houses. Home was wherever Mom and Dad were – a place of refuge and safety.” The writer went on to say that everyone needs a home – a spiritual home. The end of the reflection read, “Each time we meet with other believers, there is a very real sense of ‘coming home.’ Home is where God and our brothers and sisters are, a place of refuge and safety.” I became excited as I read, because I felt that these words were God’s promise to me that I would find a new church home.
And I did. And I love that home.

But I also loved coming home. Coming home to the place where I was dedicated as a little baby. The place where I sang my first (and last) solo. The place where I first taught children’s church. The place where I spoke in front of a group for the first time. The place where I went to youth group and survived all the typical crushes and conflicts of such an age. The place where I learned all the songs that taught me the books of the Bible. The place where I learned to pray out loud without giggling. The place where I always dreamed of getting married. (That hasn’t been entirely ruled out at this point.)

Even the sparrow finds a home…and though I have found my new home, visiting my first home and my extended family there was a welcome blessing.

Hitting the Floor

Many years ago, I was driving along in my car, listening to the radio, when the DJ started pondering the seriousness of her own prayer life. She talked about times when she "just prayed" and times when she "hit the floor" and prayed. Those were the times when she was really serious and she wanted to see something conclusive happen in the given situation.

This week has brought about a resurrection of the "hit the floor" kind of prayer for me. You know me...I'm a chatterbox. I talk to God incessantly about most anything and everything. I think He likes that, so I don't really worry about it. But this week has brought the need for the more desperate, serious kind of prayer. The kind that drives me to make lists and read them to God so that I know my thoughts are coherent. The kind that sends me searching to see what changes I need to make to ensure I'm doing all I can to stay on the right path, yet sends me to stillness to make sure I can hear any answers and be free to follow whatever God might have to say.

Last night in particular, I was thinking about something I heard Beth Moore say in this Bible study series of hers that I'm doing. She was talking about the "popular" Prayer of Jabez, and she said that sometimes people ask her about her view of that prayer. She said she thinks it's a great thing to pray - but maybe some people need to start making good use of the territory they have before they ask for more. Good point. Worth pondering.

So that's where I am for this week. Hitting the floor and pondering if I'm making the best use of the territory I've been given before I pray for more.

Happy Friday!

Not only am I NOT Smarter than a 5th Grader...

...I finally gave in and join the wellness program at work. The thing holding me back was the required physical, but I forced myself to get one last week. I was told it would be no big deal. Well of course my blood pressure was up due to office stress prior to going in for the physical. That's something I've come to expect. And then I had to put on a paper shirt. Anything involving paper clothing crosses the "no big deal" line in my mind.

We established that although my father had prostate cancer, I was probably safe from getting that. We established a few other things that I'll spare you for my own dignity's sake.

I dropped off my medical clearance form and picked up my "tracking card" so I can keep track of my exercise. THEN the lady gave me the form that tells what exercise is worth on the point system.

Later that evening I sat down to read it and within 20 seconds, I determined I'm too stupid for the wellness program. I had to have someone in the office explain it to me. I'm not sure I entirely get it. I didn't see a category for "nearly died on the elliptical" or "was almost killed by co-worker in the gym."

So I've decided to work out a deal with Rachel (from my office) every day. I'll tell her what I did and she'll tell me how much it's worth.

Good thing that wasn't my test for employment!

Bits for Sunday, September 30, 2007

It has happened – again. Writer’s block. I love the Sundays when I sit down to write and something just rolls out of my brain and onto the screen and a few minutes later – BOOM! The “bits” are written. And then there are the weeks like this one – where I keep procrastinating for another half hour. I watch another TV show, bake another batch of cookies, visit another blog, go for another walk, hoping that something will trigger an idea in my mind.

Today I have nine dozen (wonderful, I might add) cookies on my kitchen counter and no thoughts rolling through my brain. Then it occurred to me that long ago, I purchased a book for just such an occasion. It’s called Room to Write, and it contains page after page of ideas intended to spark writing during the times of blockage. I paid $6.48 for it, according to the price tag – which is still on the book for some very unBekahlike reason – so I might as well actually open the book and use it!

The prompt said, “Most of us write because we love to read. You have to love words and what they do to you to want to spend so much time wrestling them.” The “assignment” at the bottom of the page said, “Today remember a writer who called you to write.”

Well I don’t remember a particular writer who called me to write, though I certainly gobbled up books at an alarming rate when I was growing up. My parents thought they were saving money by not having cable. They probably spent as much in books over the years as they would have spent on that cable bill!

But if someone were to ask me why I started writing…here’s what I would say.

I loved to write before I could put words on paper. When I was a little girl, I loved to tell stories, and I would tell them to anyone who listened. Grandparents, sisters, parents, unsuspecting passers-by, and when all else failed, a line of baby dolls which I may or may not have bothered to dress for the occasion. And my stories could go on for days. (See how not much changes in my life?) Mom said I skipped from the monumental “first word” status to straight paragraph talk. And though I couldn’t spell words or scribble out letters on paper, I had things to say – so I spoke my stories.

Then I discovered the world of writing – probably in upper elementary school. Just little short stories. Little bits of fiction. Attempts at mirroring the Mandie books or Little House on the Prairie books or any number of Janette Oke books that filled my bookshelves in my bedroom. I remember one of my first “big” attempts at writing was a novel that I never finished – and probably never will finish. It was about a girl named Jensine who lived back in the pioneer days. I remember that she was an orphan, and I remember that for my age and training level, the story line was surprisingly put together.

I dabbled in keeping a journal – a diary, back then. I never succeeded very long because the books I bought were actual diary books that had dated pages, and I felt very limited by that page boundary. Some days I couldn’t squeeze everything I had to say onto the tiny page allotted, and other days, if I couldn’t fill up an entire page, I felt like a failure. (To this day, if I am writing in a workbook of some sort, I will write until every line is filled, whether or not I have something meaningful to say on that line. I hate unused lines.) Once I finally learned about generic blank books, I became extremely disciplined in keeping a daily journal entry. I think I’ve been doing that for almost fifteen years now.

I was in high school when I discovered that I could actually major in writing when I went to college. That appealed to me, as my drive to follow my original career paths of secretarial work, teaching school, or nursing had waned severely. So I enrolled in college as a writing major. I gave very little thought to what I would actually do with that once I finished school. I was just happy to have a major.

My school was blessed with great professors who challenged me (sometimes too much, I used to think) and allowed me to grow as the writer I was – even if what I chose to write didn’t appeal to their tastes. I quickly learned that writing fiction, which is what I thought I wanted to do, was not really my passion. Even more quickly, I learned that poetry was out for me. (That was a rough semester of patience from my professor who gently wrote in my final portfolio, “I don’t think you are first a poet-writer, but you do this well too.” What a kind way of saying “DON’T DO THIS EVER AGAIN!”) In one rather torturous class, I learned that technical writing was not even close to being my gift.

But while there, I learned a craft. I learned how to weave humor and seriousness into the same article. I learned the fine line between teaching and preaching. I learned how to take what I know and mold it into something with personality.

One of the greatest gifts I ever received as a writing student, was a note that a professor tucked inside a portfolio I had to submit at the end of the semester. I don’t even remember which writing class I took that year, but we had to submit a journal entry every time we met for class. The entries went in a rotation of three topics – one about something we’d read (because a good writer always reads), one about the world (because a good writer always observes what is happening in the local world and the larger world), and something about life (because a good writer always finds a way to teach from life experience).

In the flap of the portfolio, she wrote a beautiful note that encouraged and affirmed my chosen path. She told me that I was diligent and gifted and that I was the real deal in a crowd that perhaps held some who were not the real deal. She ended the note by saying, “You know how to persevere. I’m very proud of you.”

I’m pretty sure I cried when I read it. Gaining her approval was one of my highest goals as her student. I don’t share that with you to boast in any way, but to say that this is the note that keeps me writing when I want to quit. Writing is a lot of work. It’s a commitment that I keep every day of my life – either in journaling or blogging or working on things for publication. It takes a lot of time, it’s vulnerable, and sometimes it exposes way too much of my heart. I’ve read back through that college assignment enough to know it really wasn’t my best work ever. But she saw potential in me – and I am determined to make the best use of that potential, even if right now, it’s not my bread-winning job.

So why do I write? I write because block or no block, I can’t breathe if I don’t write. If I try to skip it, I’m miserable. I write because before I could write, I spoke the stories. I write because I have to put onto paper (or screen) the things in my heart. Maybe only 1/8th of it is worth keeping. But I never know when something worth keeping will spill out – so I have to write until my hand hurts – and then later go back and look for the treasures.

Floor Joyces and Fall Decorating

It's been a while since I offered a Kansas update - so here you go! This coming week marks five months since the tornado, and while the "worldwide fascination" of the storm has gone, apparently the gawking hasn't. Lori said that you know it's bad when six year olds say "Oh no - more cameras?"

The Discovery Channel is doing a documentary series on the rebuilding - and even if six year olds are tired of cameras, I'm kind of glad they're doing it because it will give me a chance to see progress from a distance. And Leonardo DiCaprio is hosting it so it can't be all bad on the eyes either! :)

This past weekend was football Homecoming, and my niece was in the court - so that was exciting! One of her best friends was crowned queen, so I was excited for her! (She's a lot of fun.) Apparently not only did the local news out there cover the festivities, but some footage of it made its way to Indiana, because my friend Jenny said to me this week "I saw Lori on TV!" I said, "Lori who?" She said, "YOUR SISTER." Oh! That Lori! I guess she was in full view of the parade route. And I missed it! :(

Construction on their home is coming along - though it seems to me to be very slowly. The basement is done and all sorts of other little projects about which I, not being a construction guru, don't remember the details. Sorry. But yesterday Lori said they were working on the floor joists - or as they call them out there, "floor joyces." That cracked me up. So I guess it's coming along!

Meanwhile they are very busy running around to various places for volleyball games. Senior night was this week and Cassie was honored then. Well, and some other people too.

Back in Bekahland, I'm enjoying some time off work. I came home at noon yesterday and laid down for "just a minute" and woke up an hour later. Apparently I was very tired! I'm just kind of taking it easy - got the fall decorating done - at least for the most part. I washed all the windows and began the weekly ritual cleaning too. I'd planned to scrapbook today, but my Dad called to say he was coming over to finish some Habitat for Bekah projects (caulking on the roof, hauling away tree limbs) so I moved all the icky chores to today's plan so I can be "helpful" to him and will scrapbook tomorrow!

So about this Bachelor...

I really did not intend for my fall lineup to include the Bachelor. I actually didn't even know a new season of the Bachelor was about to start - other than my friend Jenny telling me he was a cutie. (She was right about that!)

BUT....last night when I got home, it just so happened to be coming on, and I was about to try the exercise ball, so I figured why not watch? (I very nearly stopped before I started because try #1 of the exercise ball was done barefoot and I slid straight into the entertainment center due to lack of secure footing. WOOPS!)

So here's my thing. I like this Bachelor more than most, because he seems to be a little more - with it? But these girls! I'm sure that in real life, many of them possess an ounce or two of brain power, but the things they did last night to try to get the first impression rose were, as our secretary would say, beyond the beyond. Showing off your webbed toes? That says "pick me?" Turning into a human pretzel in an evening gown? Singing off key? Sure it makes him remember you, but um....maybe not in the way you wanted him to remember you?

As usual, I was sucked in by the teaser at the end of all the coming attractions this season, including whatever drama eventually brings in the ambulance.

Though it makes me roll my eyes, I guess my fall lineup has officially started.

Bits for Sunday, September 23, 2007

According to the ticker above, Daylight Savings Time ends in forty days. I have now moved into the “Lent mentality.” If I can survive forty days of (whatever I give up any given year), I can survive forty more days of my brain and body being in a different time zone from my posted work hours.

According to my calendar, fall has arrived. And what a beautiful fall day it is! Sunny – and warm enough to keep the summer clothes in circulation for another day.

But I have to admit – I’m kind of ready for fall. NOT ready for raking leaves. Allow me to make that clarification up front. That’s the one part I’m dreading. But I’m ready for all the other excitement that fall brings to my life.

* Fall cleaning. I don’t really do spring cleaning. (I’d blame it on exhaustion brought on by changing into daylight savings, but I didn’t do spring cleaning before that business started, so I guess that won’t work.) But I do feel better after reading on a website that if you’re only going to do one major cleaning a year, fall is the one to do. Yeah. I knew that. That’s why I chose it. And my fall cleaning has begun. This week I cleaned the carpets and reveled in the satisfaction of tossing out murky water. (At least one of you understands that joy, I know.) I knocked down cobwebs and rubbed some orange oil into the wood on the buffet to give it a pick-me-up. The cleaning isn’t done. I’ve got windows to attack with a fury, more cabinets that need pick-me-up attention, and a few tubs waiting to be hauled into the attic.

* The great wardrobe switch. This is still awaiting me, but this is one of my favorite things about season changes. I am convinced that the change of seasons was designed partly for women who are tired of their current clothing selection and need new options without spending money. I love pulling everything out of the closet, sending away the clothes that I’m officially done wearing for life, folding up the rest, packing them away for half a year, and pulling out the alternate season of clothing. I always find things I forget I had, and for at least a month, I feel like I’m wearing brand new clothes every day! Another fabulous part of the great wardrobe switch is finding all the super/extra/final markdowns on clothing and shoes – especially the stuff I staked out at the beginning of the season and now can finally afford once it’s 90% off.

* New decorations. Probably later today I’ll venture into the attic and drag out the tub of fall decorations. I love the oranges and yellows and browns that I tuck into corners here and there to perk up the house. The cats love playing with the newspaper packing while I rearrange the décor. Hey, whatever keeps them out of my decorating is fine with me.

* Fall candles. I have an unhealthy addiction to candles – and some of you know that in the winter, that’s primarily how I heat my house. But even though I burn candles year round, there’s something about the fall candles that I love the most. When Angela lived here with me, we both liked the Yankee candle scent of Harvest. Every year we’d wait for that one to go on sale and then we’d burn it every day – it has an amazing scent. Last night when I was in Wal-Mart (go figure) – I stopped by the candle aisle to see what they’d brought out for the fall and I’m excited to head back after payday to stock up on candles for my candle garden!

* Trip to the apple orchard/pumpkin patch. I wonder if I think apples are only available for purchase in the fall. I rarely buy them except when I make my annual trip to the apple orchard and pumpkin patch. Maybe they’re better when they come straight from the orchard. I’m not sure. But going to the orchard is one of my favorite things to do – choosing the perfect pumpkins for my porch and mini pumpkins and gourds for the table inside. And then of course, the apple selection. And with that comes the making of one of my favorite cakes that my friend Lois gave me the recipe for – this perfect spice cake with bits of apple in it. Slather some whipped cream on top and have a cup of coffee with it – it’s the perfect breakfast, snack, or dessert.

* Colors! Maybe I love fall because I love color and fall has so many of them. Though I detest raking the leaves, I love the beautiful colors that they turn before they give up and fall. I love the colors of the fields before harvest (and may I add – I do not miss the dust of harvest that blew into my bedroom window when I lived at home with my parents).

* And most of all – vacation! Fall is about the only time of year that I feel caught up enough at work to take more than a couple of days off at a time. So even though it’s not an immediate thing – I’m going to look forward to my vacation!

In the meantime – a fond farewell to summer. Yesterday I got a sunburn – probably my last of the year. That’s okay with me. I am pretty sure it gave me a fever, so I’m not anxious for it to hang around too long. I mowed the yard – probably not for the last time, but there are likely not many mowing days ahead of me. This summer has been a good one – one of the best I’ve had in recent years. But I’m excited to welcome fall – which has the potential to be even better!

Life - Perhaps a Return to Normal?

I told Mom yesterday that each year, I virtually lose the months of August and September because it is our busy time at work. One of our busy times, maybe I should say. One day not long ago, I sat up in bed, completely panicking that I'd missed a birthday that happened a month ago. After some hard thinking, I realized I'd not missed it - but I'd just sort of lost all the days that followed it.

But the end of business Friday hopefully marked the end of the madness. Hopefully.

Perhaps now I can sit back and enjoy life a little. Stay home, maybe? I feel like I'm forever yelling to the cats that I'm leaving (as if they care) and I'll be back later. Right now Braeya is sacked out cold on the desk next to the keyboard. She rarely leaves my sight when I'm home - probably in an attempt to remember what I look like!

But the weekend has been a good one. Last night I met Skyepuppy for the first time. When we finally left the restaurant, our very patient waiter asked if we were catching up for the first time in a while. We didn't bother to explain that it was our first meeting - but for me anyway, it just felt like catching up with a long-lost friend. Funny how you feel like you've known your blogger buddies forever!

Today I stayed home most of the day and worked hard on the house. I mowed the yard (Beat the neighbors, thankyouverymuch! Watch, they'll mow tomorrow.) and spent most of the rest of the day working on this great dining room overhaul project. I finished cleaning all the carpets so I can return the cleaner to the people who loaned it to me. I have pretty much all of the furniture moved - with the exception of a couple of things that need swapped around in the guest room, but it doesn't have to be today.

Mom found a "new" desk chair for me at the Rescue Mission. It doesn't precisely match the decor, but it also is in one piece (a plus) and the price was right! (Can't beat five bucks!) So I'm enjoying typing away NOT from a folding chair.

The last load of laundry is in the dryer, breakfast for church is assembled and awaiting its baking in the morning, and I have a headache from a sunburn I managed to acquire today. So I'm just about ready to call it a day - or rather, a night.

Kirk

Today is my nephew's birthday. I think I've blogged about him before, but I couldn't find the post where I thought I would...so I'm not sure.

I was ten when Kirk was born, and I was so excited to have a baby in the family (since I never could convince Mom and Dad to give me a younger sibling!). But at 5:30 in the morning on Sunday, September 18, 1988, our little family gathered in the waiting room at the hospital and heard words that no family ever wants to hear - the baby was gone.

We don't know why God chose to take Kirk to Heaven, but we know that's exactly where he is.

One week after her baby died, my sister sat at the front of the sanctuary where Jeff was the pastor and she talked to all the kids in the church. She wanted to make sure they knew what had happened and that it was okay to be sad or to have questions. She said to them words that still have great meaning to me today as a non-kid:

"I know it's hard for us to understand, and it's probably even harder for all of you to understand what happened. Because I can't explain why it happened. Nobody knows that. I don't understand why we couldn't keep him here and play with him like the other babies. But I want you to know that it's okay to not understand, and it's okay to be sad about it, and it's okay to cry, and it's okay to ask us questions. 'Cause we're really proud of our little boy.

"I want you to remember that Kirk is in Heaven and that Jesus is taking care of him. Someday all of us are going to see him there."

Sorry about the picture quality here - they're scans of a copy of copy...

The only time I held my nephew.

Dad and me watching my other sister hold baby Kirk.

Kirk -
[Nineteen] years ago, I held you for the first and last time. But I have never stopped missing you and wondering what life would have been like had you been able to stay.

I can't wish you back. But I can miss you lots. I'm proud to be your aunt, and I'm thankful you were one of God's special works of art - if even for just such a brief time.

Even though you'd be all grown up now,
You're still my baby boy.
My best nephew.
And I love you.

- Aunt Bekah

(from the end of his scrapbook that I put together last year on his 18th birthday.)

More Lake Pictures

In the post below, I wrote about my trip to the lake yesterday. Here are a few of the pictures I took - not of anything in particular, but just of the scenery.

Bits for Sunday, September 16, 2007

There’s a line in a Little House on the Prairie episode that always bothered me – because I thought it was really bad theology. Not that I base my theology on the lines of television programs, of course, but I’m sure there are those who do, so such lines always make me cringe. Anyway, this line was from the episode titled The Lord is my Shepherd (threw that in there just for those who still like to pick on me for my over-knowledge of Little House episode titles). That was the episode – a two-parter, actually – where Laura’s baby brother dies, and she thinks it’s her fault. This is where the irritating theology comes in. Laura goes to the church to talk to Reverend Alden and he says to her “the closer you are to God, the more likely He is to listen.” She takes that literally and climbs a mountain (which just mysteriously appeared the prairie, you understand) and tries to get God to send back the baby and take her instead.

Yesterday that line came back to me while I sat on a pier, indulging in the sights and sounds that come only from being on the water. While I still find that statement untrue, I think perhaps the reverse of it might just have something. At least for me. The closer I am to God, the more likely I am to listen.
For the last two years, I’ve gone to this particular lake in September with the ladies’ group of a friend's church. This year, the group did another activity in lieu of the lake retreat, and by mid-August, I found myself already missing the God-connection I always get when I go away to that place. So this year, she and I went without her church group. We just picked a Saturday, loaded up my car with all sorts of random “connect with God” tools and headed for the lake.

Each year, I really try to go with an open heart, ready to hear whatever it is God wants to say to me. But this year, I didn’t even have the guidance of the speaker, the music, and the workshops. It was a wide open day, and I had no idea what God might want to do or say. But I did go ready to listen. And somehow, being out in the beauty of creation like that makes it easier for me to do so.

Yesterday was a beautiful day – the perfect blend of sun and clouds. But we’ve not gone quite this late in September before, and it was just a little bit chilly. In fact, toward the end of the day, we received some strange looks from people who walked by and saw us stretched out on lawn chairs, wearing jackets and bundled up under blankets. I suppose it did look strange. But we weren’t there for a tan. We were there to hear water lapping against the pier and hear the strange calls of birds that don’t live in our town, because we don’t have water. We were there to admire the beautiful lake homes and watch the leisurely drifting of the fishing boats, occasionally interrupted by the hurry of a speedboat.


I didn’t have an agenda other than enjoying the day. Part of the time, I just sat on a bench on the pier, wrapped up in my trusty kitten blanket, drinking coffee, eating peanut butter M&Ms and thinking that life doesn’t get much more perfect. I felt the breeze (which sometime bordered on a chilly wind) blowing across the water toward shore and I thought of the verses in Genesis when God was busy creating and the Spirit of God moved upon the waters…and I wondered if it felt anything like that. I squinted in the sun and reflected on the year that had passed since I last sat on that same bench – and realized again that God is good. In the good and the bad, He is good.


I pulled out my rather massive God-journal, and wrote, because no day is complete for me unless it includes some writing. And I love nothing more than to write in a new place – to create a memory of a day when I put pen to paper in a spot besides my desk or my bed or my couch.


Later in the day, I spread out under a tree and read verses, studying a portion of Scripture that I never remember reading before. I put the first words in a brand new journal reserved for a special occasion that I’ve decided has officially arrived, and enjoyed uninterrupted moments alone with God.

God wasn’t any more present at that lake than He would have been on my own property, but for me, there’s something special about going away with the intent of meeting with Him. There’s something wonderful about having a particular place that has never failed to bring about a special meeting with God. There’s something comforting about driving away to a remote location knowing that I will come back refreshed. Because the closer I am to God, the more likely I am to listen.

Exercise

So I've started going to the gym one night a week. I started complaining about my Bricker swing (the underarm fat that looks like a swinging door....) so Rachel from work offered to teach me to work out. I've posted about that once before. I think I've been going for about a month now, and parts of it are getting a little easier.

PARTS.

Last night I felt like Lucy in that I Love Lucy episode where she does the ballet? And she gets her foot stuck in the bar on the wall? That's about how much coordination I had last night. And of all things, Miss Rachel wanted to add to our routine. ADD, I tell you. She says "Oh let's move up one pound on the hand weights." Or "Oh let's do 15 reps instead of 10." And then "Oh, let's try this new thing. It will be good for your lower back." My lower back felt fine.

But the crowning moment was when we tried the stair stepper machine for the first time. That machine is evil. EVIL! Fifteen minutes she wanted me to do. And every 3 or 4, she wanted me to increase the resistance. Well by the height of it, when I was hanging onto the handles of the machine as though they were the tree branch above a cliff into which I was dangling, she said "You can do it, Bek!"

I glared at her and said, You are not my friend. She laughed. I continued: I think I might hate you. You're trying to kill me, aren't you? I'm telling my Mom. Oh wait. I can't cause I'll be dead. Well YOU tell her then.

She just said, "Well at least your mom has unlimited bereavement days." (Office joke is that I stress out about anybody dying because I only get four bereavement days.)

As I was clinging to that stupid machine for dear life during the last minute of my workout, I looked at her and said My hair is wet and I did not just wash it. This is not fun.

But alas, I survived, and we finished our workout on the treadmill - an activity I enjoyed much more than the evil stair stepper. She wanted me to get it rolling to a high speed and then start walking. I said, "Uh, I'll fall off. Maybe I'll start slow and work up to it." I think she just wanted to see me fall off the treadmill.

This had better cure the Bricker swing. That's all I'm saying.

Like...Another Pet Peeve

I few weeks ago, I posted about the overuse of the word "like." Yesterday I observed a second behavior that is overtaking the general human population.

SHUFFLING.

If you are over the age of 80 and want to shuffle, fine. You've earned that right. If you're injured and unable to pick up your feet, fine. You also have earned the right to shuffle.

Yesterday I walked down the sidewalk and I heard this chorus of shuffling rapidly approaching me from behind. I slowed down and this whole crew of girls filed around me, shuffling in their flip flops. I wanted to yell "PICK UP YOUR FEET!!" but I thought better of it since I was headed to the chapel to pray and that didn't seem the perfect prelude.

I don't understand it. Why shuffle? Does it really take that much more energy to pick up your feet just an inch or two?

And now I'm paranoid that I do it too and I don't realize it. I'm very conscious of my walking now.

Just Thoughtlets

Tonight I was out for a walk and as the clouds cleared from the sky, I could see the trails of planes in the sky.

What a difference six years makes.

I thought back to six years ago - as I'm sure you all did at some point today. I thought back to where I was when I first heard the news. I was at work - in a division meeting, actually -and someone from another office came in to tell us that the twin towers had collapsed. I was unaware this nation possessed twin towers and couldn't have begun to tell you where they were located. I didn't grasp the seriousness of any of it until later that morning when I accompanied a friend to the doctor's office and sat in the waiting room, watching TV while she went back into the exam room. For about two hours, I just sat and stared...and wondered what would happen next...and where.

Later that afternoon, I had a dentist appointment, so I spent more time watching TV...and more time wondering. That evening I had a show scheduled (I used to sell stamps/scrapping supplies) - and we decided to go ahead with the show despite the events of the day. I remember stopping at the gas station on the way home and paying only slightly more for gas than we currently pay for it - because every station around here freaked out and I think prices went up to around $4 a gallon.

My parents were on vacation, and I was scared that the whole country would shut down and I'd never see them again.

I watched Oprah this evening and saw some children who faced that very reality that day. Their parents weren't on vacation - but they never saw them again. They were a courageous little bunch...Oprah's guests. They laughed and cried and spoke honestly.

One of the kids said that what happened that day shaped their lives. They all became a little less kid, a little more adult, and much more grateful and determined to honor the lives of those they lost.

And though I didn't lose anyone close to me that day, I know the pain of a life lost too soon. Too unreasonably, it seemed. And those losses have shaped my life too.

My hope is that I won't forget those who passed through my life and out of it all too quickly. I want to remember them as vividly as Oprah's guests remembered their parents who died six years ago. I hope I honor them and the legacies they left behind.

Bits for Sunday, September 9, 2007

I have to begin this by sending out a happy birthday to my Mom. I have to do that because I’m about to talk about her and she can’t be mad at me for it if I start by wishing her a happy birthday. Yesterday was the big day, actually. I think she had a good day despite the downpour that lasted…the whole day.

So I’ve discovered that one of the many things I have in common with my Mom is this tendency to allow one small idea to snowball into a project of mammoth proportions. For example…about twenty years ago, Mom decided that new kitchen linoleum would be in order. (AMEN!) And since things would be torn up anyway, maybe it would be a good time to re-stain the kitchen cabinets. And now that we’re thinking about it – the kitchen really isn’t big enough for parties and family dinners. Why not make a little four foot porch type space off the back where a long table could go? Well, if we’re going to do that, we might as well raise the floor and make it even with the kitchen just to make the best use of the space. And you know – while we’re making this mess, why not just make a whole new room?

And so the new room was born – and we call it that to this very day. Twenty years later, you can hear Mom and Dad talking about sitting in the new room.

Twenty years later, I find that the same thing has happened to me. Not a new room, but a small idea blossoming into something that takes way more time, effort, and money than I originally planned.

For me, it began a couple of Saturdays ago when my original plans were rained out and I was stuck inside the house with way too much HGTV Next Design Star swirling in my head. I stood in the living room, assessing the furniture and mulling over the prospect of rearranging said furniture. I pushed and pulled on a couple of the more-easily-moved pieces and didn’t like anything I tried.

Then I began to toy with the idea of “living” in the dining room. It’s very hard for me to think outside the box, so this took some mental exercise for me – and a couple of phone calls to Mom.

And so began the chain of events that began with a desire to relocate the couch.

* Take the air conditioner out of the window. (A three person event that ended up requiring a BBQ fork to stab and remove pieces of runaway insulation lodged between the window panes.)

* Clean out the closet under the stairs. The goal? To pitch things that haven’t worked for months and I’m not sure why they were still occupying space in my home, to send to the Rescue Mission the items that I’ve cleaned out and put back twice before, and finally, to make a place for the paint cans that were housed in the guest room closet.

* Take the space formerly occupied by the paint cans and make it the new home of spare blankets (for guests, cold nights, or movie extravaganzas).

* Take the trunk formerly occupied by blankets, move it into the guest room closet and fill it with toys for my friends’ kids to play with when they come over. The actual work has been completed to this point. So the points below are an outline for my friends and family, warning them of phone calls to come…

* Call Habitat for Bekah (a.k.a. my parents) and respectfully request their assistance in disassembling the dining room table and hauling it away to the Rescue Mission, thus clearing a gigantic spot in the dining room.

* Make a pan of fudge as a thank you to Habitat for Bekah. (P.S. – can I have the pan back from my last thank you?)

* Brave my way into the attic (fear of mice and spiders gets me every time) and haul down the small dining room table that is being stored in pieces for such a time as this. Attempt to put it together CORRECTLY. Always a challenge. Matt still laughs at me over my first attempt to assemble the table. The legs were a bit…backwards???...when I was done. BUT HEY. IT STILL WORKED.

* Find chairs to go with table. (This detail still being worked out.) Until then, just look at table and say “awww.”

* Borrow steam cleaner to clean as much carpet as is visible at this time.

* Bribe some people with muscles to help me move my buffet from its existing spot to its new home just across the room.

* Steam clean underneath the place where the buffet was until it moved.

* Bake cookies for people with muscles and owners of steam cleaner. Double cookies if muscles and cleaner come from the same household.

* Call Habitat for Bekah to see if I can borrow an extra recliner to place in newly empty corner of the dining room (coupled with a recliner I already own) as a new “sitting area.” This will remain until I eventually save up for overstuffed recliners from a more currant decade.

* Make more fudge for Habitat for Bekah. (Assuming, that is, that the pan has once again been returned.)

* Haul end tables from the master bedroom into the living room to be the new tables on either side of the couch.

* Haul short bookcase from living room and short bookcase from guest room into the master bedroom to replace the tables that were relocated to the living room.

* Haul the elliptical machine into the guest room – since I am principally opposed to exercise equipment in the bedroom.

* Rearrange the guest room for good measure.

* Move everything again because by this time, it’s Christmas and everything has to be moved to accommodate the trees.

And may I mention…did you notice the one thing that never moved?

The couch.

It’s okay. Mom never got new linoleum either. She went for carpet.

Stuff and Things

I thought I would check in with an update of randomness since I've not been very good at rambling endlessly lately. (You're welcome to those of you with tired eyes.)

* I started a new journal last night. I love opening up a brand new blank book. It makes me write a little more neatly and it makes me wonder what sorts of adventures are ahead that will fill up the pages.

* Saturday, I went shopping with my Mom and enjoyed some fantastic retail therapy. You know, I have such shopping willpower, until I shop with her. She can talk me into buying things I'd be too cheap to buy on my own. And (sigh) she's usually right. One time a couple of years ago, she talked me into buying a twenty some dollar skirt. I never spend that much on a skirt. Or a shirt. Or any other single item of clothing. But she insisted I'd get much good use out of it, so I broke down and bought the skirt. It's one of my favorites. Wear it all the time. This time she talked me into $22 shoes. And already I can tell they'll be a staple worth the money.

* School has started again. It's kind of nice to have life about the campus again. It's nice to run into people I've not seen for a while and hear how things went for them over the summer. It's been a very busy couple of weeks here at work as we've been working valiantly to get everything done promptly, but it's been good.

* I don't think I said this before, but I've decided to overhaul my dining room. Right now it's more of a "formal dining space" with a big table and a buffet and all that. But I don't really have big groups of people over, and other than scrap fests, my entire table is rarely used. So a couple of weekends ago when I was stuck at home while it poured outside, I was bitten with the bug that makes me redo a room. I've been scheming and planning ever since. This week I started the first phase of the overhaul, which was to remove a really old air conditioner that I wasn't using anymore. The next phase is to remove the table. That means I'll have to buy a real desk chair so that the dining room chair that I'm using for a desk chair can go away with the table.

* Anyone else out there gearing up for a new season of TV? I said a fond farewell to Army Wives last week - and here in a week or so, the current season of HGTV's Next Design Star will conclude. Then I can get back to the normal set of shows. I must make a list of what will comprise my must-see TV this year.

Well I think that's all for now. Happy Wednesday!

Bits for Sunday, September 2, 2007

My life is nothing if not comical. Some of you have already heard this story, so for the repeat, I apologize. But for the rest of you, well, I hope you get a good laugh!

This past Tuesday, I had an appointment to get my hair overhauled: cut/thinned/shaped/dyed – the whole deal. I wanted to start off the school year not looking like a senior citizen in training.


So after work, I donned the famous purple “hair shirt” and drove to my appointment. At the end of the hair overhaul, she also shaped up my eyebrows a little bit. As I prepared to leave, she told me I still had some wax in my left eyebrow and I’d need to go home and massage my eyebrow with a soapy washcloth to get the rest of the wax out. No problem. I drove home with my waxy eyebrow and prepared to face my evening.



As I tell you this next part, please know that I am not a bad housekeeper. I clean every week, but even the cleanest house occasionally gets an issue, right? Well, this week, my issue was the appearance of at least one flea. My cats are indoor cats all the time, so I know they didn’t start it. And I had carefully combed through their fur and found no trace of fleas. But somewhere a flea got in. And all it takes is one. That one flea, so small it can never be found, will bite me until I look like I have chicken pox. It’s ridiculous. It’s probably been five years since a flea has taken up residence in this house, but of course it picked this week to return.

So my plan, after coming home from my hair overhaul, was to find that stupid flea and kill it. I was convinced that it was upstairs, so my plan was to wash all the bedding, give the cats a flea bath (just in case) and then use the flea fogger overnight to fumigate the upstairs. I came home, with my freshly cut hair randomly sticking to my waxy eyebrow, pulled all the sheets off the bed, and threw them in the washer. I retrieved the flea bath bottle from the closet and cornered Braeya. That went well. I got the flea bath, and she ran away, her back resembling a drowned rat. The attempt with Kaegan didn’t go much better – and all the while, my hair kept sticking to the wax every time I bent over.

The washer cycle ended, so I stopped to move the sheets into the dryer. Sounds simple, doesn’t it?

Not when the top sheet is stuck underneath the agitator. That sucker was not moving. I pushed and pulled and tugged and rested and started all over again. My agitator has threatened to eat clothing before, but usually I can pull it out. Not this time. I tried to see if I could figure out how to remove the agitator, but I couldn’t get anything to budge.

Did I mention this is my only set of sheets that fits my bed?

I laughed. What else could I do? I mean I had a waxy eyebrow, residual flea bath still on my arms, and then my sheets firmly lodged in my washer.

Resigning myself to a night on the couch, I headed to the computer to catch up on life online. I perched on the wooden folding chair that serves as my desk chair (since I’m too cheap to spring for a real one) while chatting online, sending emails, and catching up on blogs. I didn’t move, I didn’t lean over, I didn’t shift in any way. But the next thing I knew, I was on the floor with the back of my head cracking into the hardwood and my toe slicing against something (the nearest I can figure is that it caught the metal strip on my keyboard tray).

My chair broke.

No creaking. No wobbling. No warning. Just BOOM – gone. I sat up, reached up to the keyboard tray and resumed my chatting. What else could I do?

After that, I decided to take care of the waxy eyebrow because I did not need one more mishap. I also made the executive decision to not run the fogger overnight – just in case it would in some way poison the air for the cats and me. That’s all I needed. Paramedics showing up to find a dead girl with a semi-waxy eyebrow, a busted chair, and sheets wrapped up in the agitator – and two cats strewn throughout the house.
The story has a happy ending, though. My hair is no longer gray. My sweet parents came over late Wednesday evening and Dad took apart the insides of the washer to save my sheets. (They were completely sucked up into the agitator AND stuck in whatever is underneath the agitator.)

I used the fogger while I was at work on Wednesday and I think it successfully killed the offending flea. And for now, while at the computer, I’m hanging out on a dining room chair – hoping for the best each time I sit down.

Here’s to hoping the week to come is slightly less eventful!