Missin My Girl

Six years ago today, my phone rang at work. It was before the days of caller ID, so there was no way I could know that the voice on the other end would belong to my roommate. And there was absolutely no way I could have been prepared for her news.

She said to me, "Bekah, Carol died."

I wasn't sure what that meant. I asked.

"Baby Carol. She died this afternoon."

No - see, that just couldn't be. I just saw her a few days ago. The Super Bowl party. I sat in the living room and held her. She was fine. She screamed because I wasn't her Mom, but that wasn't unusual. And besides...today was her six month birthday. She couldn't be dead...it was a birthday of sorts.

Carol wasn't my daughter. She wasn't even my flesh and blood. But sitting through nineteen hours of labor with her parents and videotaping her entrance into the world made her mine in that special place of my heart...that place that "aunts" know about.

I wasn't ready to say goodbye to her when I'd only just said hello. I wasn't ready to give up Monday nights hanging out with her and her Mom while her Dad went to class. I wasn't ready to stop trying to get her to like me even though I wasn't her Mom.

But God had other plans for our baby girl. He needed her, evidently. I still don't understand why, but I've come to learn to just trust Him on those things.

Even so...I miss her. I play with her little sister and baby brother and wonder what life would be like with a six year old in the mix. I keep her picture up all over my house and office. I think of her often and miss her terribly.

Baby Carol...I haven't forgotten you. I miss you today and all days.

Not Dead Yet

Today is January 31st. This means I have officially - and may I add, successfully - completed my first month of the "covenants and commitments" I made for the new year.

It has been one weird month. Weird to want a snack and opt for a graham cracker over 3 chocolate chip cookies and a side of M&Ms. Weird to have leftovers for five days because I actually eat only one helping at each meal. Weird to have wheat toast in the morning instead of the traditional white bread. Weird to have only one floofy coffee drink a week instead of four - and for the one to be lowfat and sugar free. Weird to not call it a day until I've exercised and flossed. Weird to be adamant that some portion of my weekend be spent cleaning the house thoroughly.

But it's been one good month, too. Marie was right (ick!). Praying through the armor of God each day DOES impact my attitude in a good way. Reading - and actually studying my faith verse (and surrounding text) each night is teaching me much more than my marathon fly-through of the Bible in a year. It's nice to not have to suck in SO much to zip my jeans. (Still, God bless the person who invented stretch.) Granted the scales only show a lack of five pounds, but this working out thing - it is doing weird and wonderful things that I like. Makes it easier to stomach one serving at a meal and only a graham cracker for a snack.

There's more - but I've rattled on enough. Accountability has been good. It's much easier to remember to order a salad over fries when I know on Sunday I'm going to be asked what kind of choices I made. And it pushes me to actually pick up the phone and call someone when I know she's going to say "Did you make contacts with people as God prompted you to do it?"

What is it they say? Thirty days makes a habit? Well, I don't know I'm to habit stage yet, but at least it's not such a gargantuan effort.

And so far -the elliptical has not ACTUALLY killed me.

Holiday Alert!

Tomorrow is National Popcorn Day.

I'd feel terrible if people didn't get an opportunity to celebrate because I failed to inform them of the opportunity!!! Popcorn, caramel corn, toffee popcorn, kettle corn, chocolate covered popcorn, cheesy popcorn...is there a bad kind out there?

Perhaps the day was invented to allow people a reason to finish the stale crumbs of those massive triple combo tins they received at Christmas. You know what I mean. You're employed. It wouldn't be Christmas if our office didn't receive about three of those by the close of the food-giving season.

I'm going to try to stay on top of these holidays. I have a new calendar that reminds me of such important things...but I didn't get the calendar out until this week, so I've already missed Trivia Day (probably would haven't done so great anyway), Bean Day (what's the point?), Bubble Bath Day (rats!), Peculiar People Day (probably celebrate that one every day), Dress Up Your Feet Day (it was a Sunday, so chances are I caught that one by default), Penguin Awareness Day (I am aware of penguins), National Hugging Day (also a Sunday, so I'm sure I covered that one during greeting time in the morning service), Measure Your Feet Day (WHY? They're huge enough by sight alone), Opposite Day (still pondering this one), and Kazoo Day (thankfully). I'll try to do a better job in February.

But until then - Happy National Popcorn Day! Wonder if anyone gets the day off for this?

Sunday, January 28, 2007

The sermon was hardly into its second paragraph this morning before I was squirming in my pew. I knew before he even started preaching that something was meant for me today, because I was distracted all over the place – one of Satan’s favorite tactics for stealing my attention when there are words meant (if only in part) for me. And once I realized where the sermon was going, I knew why it was for me. Hence the squirming.

It really started last Monday. Before I’d even gotten out of bed to face the week, I was scribbling away in my journal an area of struggle that had intensified over the weekend. I desperately wanted to go one direction but was fairly certain God intended me to stay on course in the opposite direction. I opened my Joyce Meyer devotional book (Starting/Ending Your Day Right) and read these words of hers: Ask God to put into your spirit what He wants you to know. Ask Him to show you things to come and what you are supposed to do. He will give you direction, and you will have much to praise Him for today.

I tried that – but the struggle didn’t lessen any. So that night, when I sat down with Joyce, part 2, I got a real lecture: It is not your job to give God guidance, counsel, or direction. It is your job to listen to God and let Him tell you what is going on and what you are to do about it – leaving the rest to Him to work out according to His knowledge and will, not yours. God is God – and you are not. You need to recognize that truth and simply trust yourself to Him, because He is greater than you are in every way. You are created in His image, but He is still above and beyond you. His thoughts and ways are higher than yours. So listen to God…be obedient to Him, and He will teach you His ways.

Point taken.

Tuesday arrived and I went for my weekly lunch-hour visit at the prayer chapel. I didn’t hide from God the struggle that was still raging in me – there’s no point in that anyway. I remembered that years ago, when I was reading Elisabeth Elliot’s book Passion and Purity, there was a phrase that went like this: God gives us material for sacrifice. And there I sat, on the front pew of that chapel, staring at a very sturdy altar. God was nudging me, and I knew it. Get over there and offer this struggle as a sacrifice. So I “got” over there and started offering. Should have done it three days earlier!

Feeling that my faith-walk for the year would now be back on a fast track, since that was out of the way, I sailed into Wednesday with high hopes. That day, I was reading updates on Josh Buck (if you’ve not heard about Josh, you should go to www.greenhouseministries.org and read the whole story – and pray for him!). His friends added parts of his first spoken thoughts since his accident the week before. Among his first words: If you’re going to believe this faith, you can’t just believe in a little bit of it; you have got to believe the whole thing.

If a man my age, who is suddenly facing the possibility of permanent paralysis can say those words and mean them, then I have no excuse not to do the same. And God pointed to those words and informed me that I was trying to pick and choose my way through my faith.

God punctuated Josh’s one-sentence sermon by the words in my God Calling devotional: You pray for faith, and you are told to do so…Do not want to see the road ahead. Just go one step at a time. I very rarely grant the long vista to my disciples, especially in personal affairs, for one step at a time is the best way to cultivate faith. You are in uncharted waters. But the Lord of all seas is with you, the Controller of all storms is with you…It was when the disciples gave up effort after a night of fruitless fishing that I came, and the nets brake with the overabundance of supply.
I scratched out the parts of my prayer where I was asking for long term information and instead narrowed my focus to the step ahead.

Well, that brings me to last night, when Joyce Meyer’s devotional struck again: God wants to take care of you, and He can do a much better job of it if you will avoid a problem called independence, which is really self-care. The desire to take care of yourself is based on fear. You are afraid of what might happen if you entrust yourself totally to God and He doesn’t come through for you. The root problem of independence is you trust yourself more than you trust God. People love to have a backup plan. You may ask God to get involved in your life, but if He doesn’t respond as quickly as you’d like, you take control back into your own hands.

I’m the queen of the backup plan. In fact, the entire experience in the prayer chapel on Tuesday was the sacrifice of a backup plan. Plan A (a.k.a. God’ plan) seems to be standing still, so I was anxious to get to Plan B (appropriately – Bekah’s plan).

And so this morning, I sat in church, while Pastor Brian spoke about Samuel hearing the voice of the Lord – and how many calls it took for him to understand it was God speaking. And Pastor Brian asked us how many times God had called to us to follow Him. I didn’t want to tell him it was about 437 just this week. I just squirmed.

So even though Plan A doesn’t make any sense right now, I’ve learned that I’m not calling the shots, I’m not meant to see the long range plan, I better not have a backup plan, and if I do have one, I better sacrifice it immediately. What I can do is ask God to show me the next step and to live this faith to the fullest. Not just a little bit.

How to Spend $34

I enjoy spending money. I don't do much of it, but I enjoy it. Here are some of my favorite ways to spend $34.

* 34 Whopper Juniors at Burger King. Not all at once.

* 9 fluffy coffee drinks. Not all at once.

* 54 Polar Teas. (Replacing the Polar Pops.)

* 68 items of clothing at a really good yard sale. (A rare find that that many 50 cent items would be worth having.)

* 7 items at Fashion Bug. (Assuming I hit a good sale and have coupons.)

* 2 CD's at my local Christian bookstore (BIG gamble that the ones I want are actually in stock...another story for another day when I've calmed down.)

* 7 books on the sale table.

You get the idea.

Wanna hear how I actually spent $34 today?

It was the fastest departure of said amount that I've ever encountered in my pet-mothering years.

I took Kaegan to the vet. Last week I noticed that he'd ripped about a quarter size piece of fur off his belly and was scratching and licking his skin until it was red and raw. I warned him that if he didn't stop, he'd have to go to the vet. I thought that was threat enough.

See, I took him to the vet when he was three months old. He lost his claws. I took him to the vet when he was six months old. He lost his manhood. I took him to the vet about two months after that for a rather annoying projectile pooping issue. The receptionist failed to suggest that I also bring a sample (which would have been oh so easy, yet gross, to collect), so they had to do a kitty-colonoscopy to dig out a sample. He hated me for quite a while after that. I figured with said experiences behind him, he'd be receptive to straightening up on his own.

I was wrong.

Quite frankly, I was worried I wouldn't even be able to catch him and put him in the carrier to get him to the vet. He knows that little box can't lead to anything good. But despite my worries, I donned my thickest winter coat and gloves, held him tight and got him in the carrier. He literally howled all the way to the vet. I cried all the way to the vet.

Once inside they weighed him (in the carrier) and the vet and I waited while Mr. Kaegan worked up the nerve to exit the carrier. I held him down, and the vet pulled up one of Kaegan's hind legs, rubbed the raw spot, and said, "He probably just irritated it. I'll give you some salve." Those two sentences cost me $34. I forked out another $7 for the salve - which I can only hope gets remotely near the sore. So much easier to apply when there are two people to one cat.

This is why Alaska is NOT for me

Those of you who know me well know that I hate driving in the winter. My Dad, bless his heart, insisted upon chauffeuring me around in the winter when I was in high school and even college. He'd drive to campus and take me places. I never fought him very hard because I was so scared of snow and ice. But now I wish I'd have insisted a little more that I learn to drive on this stuff, because here I am now, a full grown adult, and I still hate snow and ice. And even more than my own disdain of driving on it...I'm always worried I'll wipe out someone ELSE with my own stupidity and lack of ability. So when it gets really bad, I stay home.

Sunday morning, I woke up about 5:30 - which is normally a good reason to just flop over in bed and go back to sleep for 2 more hours - but I remembered that we had a snow forecast, so I got up just to see if there was snow. No snow. WOO HOO!!!! I flopped back into bed and slept until about 8. Got up - SNOW. Everywhere. About four inches of it. Might as well be four feet, where I'm concerned.

I decided to at least start getting ready for church and see how things progressed. I was still in my jammies, with one half of my hair straightened and the other half sticking straight up in a clip (reminiscient of Boo in Monsters Inc.) when my doorbell rang. No one ever rings my doorbell - ESPECIALLY at 8:30 on a Sunday morning. It was my Dad. No, he had not come to take me to church. He was on HIS way to sing at an early church service and had stopped to use my phone to call Mom to warn her the roads hadn't been touched. As he left, he said to me, "They're bad, if you want to stay home."

Let me just say - when Dad gives permission to skip church - those must be some nasty old roads.

Even with his blessing, though, I could not feel good about missing church. I knew if it were a work day, the idea of skipping wouldn't even be considered. If I could make it to work, I could make it to church. Besides...I had to get out sometime to return movies - and if I could do that - I had better get to church. Turning in my tithe was more valuable than acquiring a late fee.

I'd just worked up my nerve to go when I heard a last chorus of a song from my Dad's radio program, which was playing downstairs..."But just think of stepping on shore and finding it Heaven." GREAT. Why did he have to play THAT one today?

Even so, I climbed in the car and began my own rousing rendition of Jesus, Take the Wheel - and I meant every word. I got as far as Wal Mart and said, "I can't do this. I just can't." So I pulled into Wal-Mart to turn around, but they hadn't cleared their lot yet. So I slid and bounced all around my turn-around attempt and as I sat by the road, waiting to pull out, I said, "Well if I can do that, I can drive on the road." So I got back on the path and drove like a 90 year old woman all the way to church. I prayed for green lights and no cars. I got most of my wishes.

But boy - what a meltdown when I got to church! I walked straight to the bathroom and started bawling. One of our pastors even told his wife to give me a hug because he thought I could use one.

THIS is why, despite the number of men living in Alaska, I cannot move there. If I uproot at all, it's going to have to be to the south.

Sunday, January 21, 2007

It’s been a thankful sort of week for me. Friday, I posted a blog about how thankful I am for all the things my parents taught me…a surge of thankfulness brought on after I watched George O’Malley say goodbye to his father Thursday night on Grey’s Anatomy.

But even before that reminder hit, I had a thankful sort of week. Good things happened – and I even found a few hiding in the hard parts.

* I eagerly climbed on the scales (don’t ever look for that phrase again) Monday morning to see how much I’d lost – and the number remained firm from the Monday before. I started to get mad and head to the kitchen for a cookie, but I reminded myself that it’s not all about the pounds. As the week went on, I found myself not sucking in quite so hard to button my clothes. So even though the pink Princess scales may be firmly fixed, I think things are changing – and that is good news.

* My visit to the dentist was uneventful – which never happens in Bekahland. I got a gentle hygienist, the Today Show was running an hour-long special on the highs and lows of the Golden Globes, and I have no cavities. AND I weaseled my way out of the fluoride treatment and a lecture on flossing. That might possibly be my best visit to date!

* Tuesday’s visit to the prayer chapel during lunch turned out to be a great time. I went in expecting God to say something, and He sure did! I even got goose bumps! I know you can’t base everything on goose bumps, but it sure is nice when they show up every now and then.

* Wednesday, when I felt like the day was a total loss, I found a card in my mailbox…just a note from a friend thanking me for being me. And the words on the card, written by Luci Swindoll, said, “Vision is when you see it and others don’t. Faith is when you do it and others won’t.” What a great reminder to keep on the road of faith!

* Friday, everyone in our office got a free coffee. And by that, I mean free coffee drink of our choice. For me, naturally, it meant a big fluffy drink – sugar free, of course. Remember item one on the list? Anyway, what is it about being offered a free coffee that can suddenly make you feel like the employee of the month? Such a little thing – but so big.

* Yesterday I had a great day of fun scrapbooking with a bunch of scrapaholics. I didn’t turn out pages as fast as I usually do…but I had a wonderful time just enjoying the process. Thinking up designs. Sharing ideas. Trying something different. As I drove to the church where the crop was held, I was talking to Mom on the phone, and she asked if I had any friends going with me. I said no, and then I backed up and said, “Well, except the ones I met through scrapping at that church.” And I realized that is a blessing in itself! These are people I never see outside of scrap days, but they are still friends. And that’s a good thing.

* My elliptical machine is assembled, functional, and killing me. I’m thankful for the extra working-out option, and I’m thankful for friends who were willing to assemble it for me. Furthermore, I’m thankful they were willing to accept a home cooked dinner as payment. (Even more thankful that it was a successful dinner and two new keeper recipes were found!)

* Probably most of all, I’m thankful for the blessing of things not always working out the way I ask God for them to happen. He’s reminded me in a very specific way this week of just where I’d be if He’d said yes to something I wanted. It’s hard to find thankfulness in a no at the moment you hear the no. It’s much easier to see the point of it years down the road. But it’s this new thing I’m learning. I’m trying to be thankful for the no at the moment…not because I understand why it’s happening, but rather because I know there is a reason, and whether or not I ever know what it is, it’s a good one. Because the One making the decisions is completely trustworthy.

Gratefulness

I will admit it. I cried all the way through Grey's Anatomy last night. Part of it was relief that I had an excuse to cry after a particularly soul-confusing day. Part of it was great acting by the cast. And part of it was the reminder of reality. Watching George (whom I love) say goodbye to his dad way before he should have had to do so...well it reminded me that I don't know when my own turn will come.

In those moments, I realize how really grateful for my parents I am. I pick on them. I roll my eyes. I shake my head. I pick fights every now and then. That's what kids do. As I used to tell them, "Should have thought about that before you had me." But for all my picking and eye rolling and argument starting, I love them and don't like to think about the day when I can't pick on them anymore.

This morning, as I listened to Money Matters on the radio, I heard the hosts talking about teaching kids about money. And I remember the day when I was about six and Mom sat me down in the living room and started me on a one dollar a week allowance, all paid in dimes. She taught me to make envelopes (yay! a craft project!) for tithe...and savings...and spending...and vacation...and Christmas. She taught me to divide up my dimes and manage my money all year long. Because she did that, she taught me a great skill that I still use today. (Thankfully work doesn't pay me in dimes.) I've learned that a lot of people my own age are skilled at credit card use, but not at budgeting. I'm grateful she taught me that.

I'm grateful that Dad told me Bible stories every night before I went to bed and that he let me take quizzes (when I was in kindergarten) alongside his high school Bible History students - and I beat some of them. I'm grateful they both taught me to go to church unless I was puking, no matter if I felt like going. I'm grateful they stuck to their convictions even when their choices were unpopular and no one understood them. My convictions are sometimes different from theirs, but at least I know how to stick to my passions.

They taught me to go to work - to be early and stay late. They taught me to treat my possessions well and to love the underdog. They fostered my love of reading and writing and respsected my wish (eventually) to quit playing the piano. They sacrificed so I could go to a college I couldn't afford and even let me take Lloyd (the really old car) when I moved on campus.

Dad loves his grandcats and Mom tolerates them. They have let me grow up and be me. And for all of this - I'm grateful.

Golden Girl vs. Golden Tickets

Well...I watched all four hours of the American Idol auditions and have decided, hands down, that my first pick of the season for WHAT?!?! is definitely the golden girl from Seattle. I even watched her audition twice tonight. I watched it when it aired, and then I played it back at the end for Jessica and Sharon, who showed up just after she sang - or whatever.

And I still have no words. The hair...the shirt...the tennis shoes...the song...I have no words. The worst part is now that song is going to be stuck in my head all night. I do have to say, though, in her defense, that she exited gracefully. I much prefer her composed and dignified departure to the guy from Minneapolis whose farewell speech was more bleeped than not. So for that - good job, Golden Girl.

As for my favorites after week one...well...if only I could remember their names. I'm terrible with names. The competition will probably be to the final three before I know who is who. But by description, I really liked the girl from Minneapolis who had the rough life story. I thought she had a great attitude, she was confident but not ridiculous, and I liked her voice. I also liked the guy from the USS Reagan...for a variety of reasons. :) Tonight my picks were the girl with the brown curly hair whose Dad played in the NFL. I just liked her. I also liked the really really tall girl - because she was sassy. Simon needs some sass up against him every now and then.

So those are my picks for week one. Christina? Phats? Closet fans? Thoughts?

Christina Tagged Me

I never even PLAYED tag when I was little (chubby girls don't run well) but I sure am the tag favorite on blogger! :) It's okay - it's kind of fun. This one is different from the one Phats hit me with before Christmas.

1). What's the most fun work you've ever done, and why? (two sentences max) – Though not a lucrative career, my most fun work was when I used to do child care for the pastors’ camp when I was part of the Quaker church. The denomination held a four day camp for pastors and families at the campgrounds, so I worked mornings and evenings – playing with babies – and then got free housing, free food (GOOD food) and my whole afternoon to play at the beach – AND I got paid!

2A.) Name one thing you did in the past that you no longer do but wish you did. (one sentence max – I used to be fairly good at sign language, and I miss it now that I’ve stopped practicing regularly.

B.) Name one thing you've always wanted to do but keep putting off. (one sentence max) – I have been putting off the attempt of publishing a book…but it’s one of my 25 commitments/covenants this year, so I at least have to try!

3A.) What two things would you most like to learn or be better at, and why? (two sentences max) – Well, I’d like to be better at driving…I hate city driving and winter driving because I’ve never had that much experience at it and I’m just too old to pull a whiny excuse about it now. I also wish I were better at yard stuff…now that I have a house of my own, I need to make it look put together from the outside too.

B.) If you could take a class/workshop/apprentice from anyone in the world living or dead, who would it be and what would you hope to learn? (two more sentences, max) – I would love to study under Beth Moore, both to absorb some of her hunger for the Bible and to learn how to write and relate like she does.

4) A. What three words might your best friends or family use to describe you? – OCD (hopefully in a good way), hospitable, dependable

B. List two words you wish described you – spontaneous, adventuresome

5) What are your top three passions? (can be current or past, work, hobbies, or causes-- three sentences max) – I’m working on developing my relationship with God, trying to discern my next steps on this faith walk He has me on, and growing as a writer.

So there you have it!! If I were going to tag someone else, I'd pick Amy R. and Kristin - and call this five weeks' worth of LBS "question of the night."

A Brand New Season

I try to keep my blog relatively free of commentary regarding my television shows...except when they lead to trips to Paris. It's not that I find it offensive when people discuss their shows...it's just that I quite frankly never think of it.

But tomorrow night...in less than twenty-four hours now...a brand new season of Idol begins. Oh boy - I just lost a couple of you on that one, didn't I? You thought I had some sense to me and now I've admitted I'm just a shallow member of the reality TV world? Technically not true. Idol is my only reality show. I even gave up on the Bachelor after the ridiculousness of one season made me mad. (Couldn't even tell you now which season it was.)

I missed the first season of Idol entirely and only happened upon the hilarious auditions of season two during a channel surf. I stopped surfing and found myself hooked. I was a Clay fan to the bitter end, and though I said I didn't care who won between Mr. Aiken and Mr. Studdard, I lied. I wanted Clay to win.

Here's the thing about the show...I get so stinking opinionated!! There's always the one singer that lasts about eleven rounds too long and the one that is eliminated without warning and certainly without fairness, and the one person that no one else agrees with me about, but I know I'm right anyway. And I take it all as personally as I possibly can. So anyway - I'll try not to drone on and on about it as the weeks pass, but if I get caught up, I might not be able to control that very well.

At any rate, I love the first night every season - I love laughing at the bizarre display of lack of talent. In fact, in my scrapbook from last year's Idol kickoff party (yes, I watch with friends), there is a picture of me face down on the floor trying not to spit out my coffee while a girl tried to go up the down escalator in heels and a dress. Hey, it was a good moment for scrapbook history, if nothing else.

So with all that said, please, my blogging friends, do not abandon me now. It could be a very good season.

Keyboards and Pink Fuzzy Sweaters

It is so GOOD to be blogging from my very own uncomfortable wooden folding chair. After fourteen days of internetlessness (like that word?) at home, my hard drive is feeling better and my faulty keyboard has been found out and discarded. Thank you, Jim, for letting me borrow yours until I can get a replacement! I told my Mom I feel like a smoker who was just handed a pack. Not my finest analogy, but amazingly enough, she laughed.

So now that I'm back in the game, I thought I'd post a couple of pictures...you know...because I can. Here you will see the new pink sweater that caused all the fuzzies (post somewhere below) at work this week. I didn't wear the scarf at work, but I do love it. Very sassy.

And the other picture is just another random Christmas one. Those are my parents...and in the background, the tree that Braeya knocked over. (Obviously picked back up before Christmas Day.)

Sunday, January 14, 2007

At 7:00 this morning I returned home from Paris, France. Thank you so much, Mom and Dad, for taking me.

Hello? Mom? Dad? Do you remember any of this? Okay so maybe it was a dream. Yes, I had one of “those dreams” last night. Mom and Dad took Sarah (one of the girls in my office) and me to Paris for a vacation. Paris was located somewhere in the Dakotas – and had a very tropical oceanic view. We stayed in a very prestigious resort located in an old, condemned cement building with occasional working plumbing. And our trip home was delayed by a plane crash. All flights were grounded until the FAA could determine what caused the crash.

Interestingly enough, Mom and Dad mostly ditched me (Sarah too!) during the vacation – which left me to forage for dinner alone in little bistros along the tempestuous ocean front. During one such lonely dinner, I looked up to find a family across the way – a family I knew. The husband distracted his wife somehow and sneaked over to me. He looked me straight in the eye and said, “I just want you to know that I know.” I gave him my best quizzical look and he said to me, “I know that you liked me for a long time. It’s okay and I’m truly flattered – it’s just not going to work out.” I was trying to pull my hair down over my red face while I asked him who spilled the beans. He told me – and it was a friend I really thought I could trust!

The frightening part of this entire situation is that this family actually exists – I did at one time have an annoying crush on the guy – and the girl who did NOT guard my secret is really my friend. And the next time I see either of them, I’ll probably do some serious blushing.

How do these things happen? I’m not one to try to figure out dreams…but this one was so bizarre that I had to try to decipher just a little of it. I watched about ten minutes of Under the Tuscan Sun yesterday while I was waiting on some friends to show up for dinner. One of two scenes that I saw took place on a dock of some sort where water was crashing up against the shore. I suppose that is where the idea of an overseas vacation and the ocean view came in. A few weeks ago I watched a scary documentary on a plane that crashed years ago – and the cause was never determined. And last week I watched an episode of Dirty Jobs – and the scruffy guy was helping an exterminator clean out an arena infested with rats… part of the Katrina aftermath. I’m not really sure how the rest came to be…but thank goodness it was really a dream!

Funny, though, how those pesky dreams play with the mind. I told you that God has asked me to walk this mysterious road of faith. I know enough details to walk, but not enough to really see the next destination on the journey. Last night before I went to bed, I was journaling about how frustrated I had become on this walk. I knew when the new year started and the journey simultaneously grew more intense, Satan was going to worm his way in somehow and try to derail me.

In my OCD way, I even tried to figure out exactly how he might go about that so I could be prepared. And I should have known where he’d sneak in…probably I did know. I just didn’t try very hard to fight it. And so there I sat last night, frustrated that what I really wanted was over here to the left, but what I knew I should want was clearly to the right. And there’s no reason not to want what is on the right…except that the left is easier and closer.

And then I woke up after my trip to Paris and even more confusion swarmed around in my little pre-ten-o’clock brain. I pulled out the journal and started writing again – why, why, why do things like dreams even pull my mind aside from the track it should be on?

In our ladies’ Bible study, we’ve been learning about choices…and it seems like no matter the specific topic each week…it all comes back to a choice that ultimately rests in our hands. God reminded me of that this morning. I could let myself be sidetracked by purposeful thoughts and by dreams that I can’t control, or I can choose to stay faithful even when it’s hard.

God was even so nice as to follow up that discussion with an entire church service about surrender. I sat on the end of the pew realizing that He very much expected me to make a choice before I left. I could continue to be sidetracked, or I could hand over the thoughts and the dreams and choose to keep walking the faith walk.

So God gets the Paris guy – and all the rest of the sidetracking thoughts. I get to keep walking one step at a time.

Out With the Old...In With the Old

I seem to attract friends who inadvertently call me old. One of my really good friends is ten years younger than I am; we meet every week for mentoring and accountability. It is not uncommon for some sweet and innocent comment to slip out of her mouth that insinuates I'm just shy of a hundred and four. I love watching her face turn red after she realizes what she said. It makes me laugh. Well, now she has company in her boat. Someone else slipped a comment out and once he caught the "I can't believe you just said that" look on my face, it has become his mission in life to try to work in as many related comments as possible.

Which reminds me...I have a card in my office (which I would scan in for you, but you know...computer's still sick) of a very very old, very very wrinkled lady in a wedding dress. She's puckered from every angle. You open up the card and the message says "Never give up." Harsh enough, but do you know who sent it to me?? MY MOTHER!!! Just when you think SOMEONE is in your corner...

So I showed that card to "you're old" friend number two yesterday. Even he thought it was harsh. :)

But despite my knee and heel and back agreeing with all such comments (thank you, exercise), I have to say that these new year changes I've made have really made me feel like a brand new person! I'm not sure if it's the exercise or the four pounds I no longer own or the lack of pop or the vegetables (what are those again?) or the extra prayer time or the deliberate donning of the armor of God every day - but who IS this girl? I sure don't know her. She's perky before ten, which is nothing short of a miracle. She hasn't lost her temper in Wal-Mart for two weeks - an even bigger miracle. She has only cried once at work during one of the craziest weeks of the semester. I think I like her.

Even if she IS old and falling apart - I think she can stay.

I Am Wonder Woman

A few minutes ago, one of the office girls said to me, "You are wonder woman today." I said to her, "Yeah, I wonder why I'm still here and when this day is going to end. "

I prayed up extra hard this morning because I knew it was going to be a crazy day. And don't you know that I had already been in tears once before 8:30? But I got that out of my system and proceeded to have a great day!!! Things are definitely picking up here in the work world, but I suppose it's better than being bored.

My favorite part today was my festive new sweater I wore. If I ever have a computer and scanner together again, I'll post a picture of it. It's really cute - pink and striped and soft and comfy. AND apparently after the first washing, FUZZY. I looked down at my black pants right after my little meltdown and there was fuzz everywhere. I had to go home at lunch and get my lint roller and bring it back to work with me. And here I am with an office full of people, trying to act professional, with pink fuzzies all over my patootie.

So anyway. It's five and I wonder why I'm still here. I also wonder what happened to 2/3 of my brain. I can't even answer the easy questions right now. Guess that means it's time to go exercise...and go to Bible study...and pay some bills...and lint roller AGAIN.

Sunday, January 7, 2007

I have survived my first round of accountability for the goals I set forth this new year. I am choosing to pursue this year one week at a time. I can’t look ahead to December – or February – without becoming overwhelmed by all that I feel called to pursue and accomplish. But I can look ahead to next Sunday. And that was pretty much the way I tackled the week behind me. With each choice I faced, I just thought of the accountability phone call that I knew would happen this afternoon and made my decision according to how I wanted to answer the questions posed to me.

The week has been delightfully exhausting. Falling asleep each night was no problem – with the exception of the times that my sore, surprised-by-exercise muscles were screaming at me. But there is a marked difference between going to bed tired because I’ve stayed up too late just wasting time and going to bed tired because I put in a good day’s work.

I learned some things along the way. James 4:8 says “Come near to God and he will come near to you…” I learned that verse back when I was about four years old and the way to learn it went more like “Draw nigh to God and he will draw nigh to you.” But either way you look at it, the message remains. This week I did some coming near…some drawing nigh. And on more than one occasion I got the “God-goose-bumps” as I call them.

Friday was such a day. I woke up at the way too early crack of dawn and scooted up in my fleece sheets (trying not to knock the cat out of the bed) to get my Bible and my journal. I read my short morning devotional, I read my faith verse of the day, I read the passage about putting on the armor of God, and I was scribbling away some early morning thoughts to God. Now typically neither of us expect those thoughts to make too much sense, but on Friday, my mind had a worry. This faith study God has drawn me to do is eventually going to result in some sort of hands-on training. This both excites and petrifies me.

For some reason, that day, I had a money worry on my mind. I wrote in my journal something to the effect of “would I really be able to live a life of financial faith?” Part of me hated to ask, because I was afraid God would say, “Well how about we get rid of your job and have everything in your house break down at once and see how you do?” (And given that this week I’ve had two light fixtures re-break, my computer spazz out, and my hairdryer bite the dust, this seemed a very real concept.) So I just posed the question, shut the journal, and crawled out of the oh-so-comfy bed to start getting ready. As I stood up, I noticed my other devotional book on the bottom shelf of my night stand. I’d been reading in it only at night, but that day, I decided to go ahead and pick it up.

There were several paragraphs that day – sometimes it’s a short reading, and sometimes not. But right in the middle of all it had to say was the sentence “Do not fear poverty.” Well! I guess that takes care of that!

And so the week went – I asked questions and somehow God sent answers. And I went back to James 4:8, remembering (how I remember this, I do not know) the hot summer day of long ago when I learned that verse from Mom’s construction paper alphabetical scripture lesson. (It was the “D” verse.) Back on that day, it was just a verse to learn because it was time for the next one in the alphabetical list.

But this week that verse came to life – as it has before. Some people may look at my five covenants for my relationship with God (as well as the rest of my list of 25) and call the whole thing too ambitious. But God is out to prove to me that it’s not too overwhelming. It’s just a week at a time of drawing close to Him and depending on Him to give me the energy for that day of that week. And in the process, He’s out to show me so much more than I know right now.

He keeps His promises. He expects me to keep mine too.

The Grouchies CANNOT Stay

I have given this week the most valiant effort that I have had within me to give. And it has been so rewarding. I've had the best week I can remember having in a really long time. I've tried to be conscious of my attitude and my nearness to God every minute. I even (brace yourself) enjoyed two visits to Wal-Mart this week.

And today Satan showed up to rob my joy. I have reminded myself over and over of the Joyce Meyer devotional I read first thing on New Year's Day - about not allowing the things of the day barge in and drag you down.

Today has been my first real test. I've whined a couple of times and found myself immediately offended by my own whine. I don't want to be "that girl" anymore. I tried to suck it up and smile through the phone calls that made me want to move to a far away land where phones don't exist. I took back the eyeroll when the SAME COMPANY THAT CALLS ME EVERY DAY called again my lunch hour. I didn't give "the look" to the very unhelpful CVS lady who looked annoyed that I had a question about the photo scanner. I stopped complaining about a couple of things that about pushed me over the edge.

Because you know what? It has been a good week. I've had good friends give me good encouragement. I've had rest. I've survived a lack of pop and the introduction of rigorous exercise. I'm not going to let a little bit of grouchy keep me down!

I Would Like to Thank...

The seventy people whose combined efforts of seventy-three cards made me this year's winner in the annual Dad-n-Bekah card contest. The official final score was 73-49.

Why is it that every year I am driven to absolute obsessiveness to win, and then I feel bad when I do? Dad's such a good sport to put up with it. I think I take comfort in knowing that he does not send a single card and I send a ton - so if you look at it in that light - he actually wins.

And you can know that next year's card design is already under construction!! I'm excited about it. Although I realize that having the design in mind on JANUARY FOURTH says something about my OCD nature. Probably not a good thing. I prefer to think it's part of my charm.

Congrats, Dad, on a race well run!

Fond Farewells...Okay, JUST Farewells

Saying goodbye is sometimes a fun thing. I enjoyed saying goodbye to the "Bekah of Yore" from 2006 and working on new things for 2007. But I have to say, there are some things that I did not anticipate kissing goodbye. And so far - not really enjoying it.

#1. My trusty string of Christmas lights in the kitchen. Let me explain to you my lighting situation. I believe my kitchen light fixture was the original light bulb. It is one of those SUPER old fluorescent circular situations. I learned earlier this year that to replace said set of bulbs costs $18.00. At that time, I began making plans to just replace the whole thing with something that uses NORMAL bulbs. In the meantime, the fixture has decided to only work on a part time basis. Usually it works when natural light shines in and doesn't when it's pitch black outside. So I depend on my string of Christmas lights in the area above my cabinets to provide light. But last week when I took down my string of garland from above the cabinets, I must have slightly moved the strand of lights. And as a result, last night I broke two bulbs in the cabinet door. I saw smoke, so I'm guessing I need to replace the whole strand. Sigh. And that strand had been working so well for so long!!

#2. Half price nights at the local coffee shop. I'm sure this is one of God's ways of trying to help me out in my "road to health" in 2007. As I walked into the bookstore/coffee shop last night to get a new set of highlighters for my Bible, I saw a sign posted on the door saying that they would no longer have half price latte/cappuccino nights on Mondays and Thursdays. I go EVERY WEEK on Mondays and Thursdays whether I need to or not - just because it's a good deal. I have to say that this decision of theirs is very disappointing to me. It's the second rather significant change that store has made in the last WEEK regarding their cafe section, and I think both choices were bad ones. I think this especially considering that lots of people buy gift cards there. As you'll recall, we just had a major gift giving holiday, and there are some people who received cards and counted on using them for food and half price drinks!! I will refrain from climbing on my full soapbox about it, but it makes me sad. I won't be able to go as often now, and I had really enjoyed that.

#3. My hair dryer. It broke this morning - fortunately at the END of my drying extravaganza. I've had that dryer since college, so I suppose it has done well for me. But a girl loves her hair dryer. I'm trying to see the positive here...so also fortunately, it broke (the on/off switch broke off) while it was ON, so I can just plug it in and go until I get a new one. Still...I wasn't ready to say goodbye to it just yet. Oh the annoyance of replacing the practical things of life. Not nearly as much fun as buying a new book!!!

They say things come in threes, so maybe now I'll get three hellos??

PS - after I wrote that, I said goodbye to thing number four. It was a piece of mail. I was on my way to the office mailbox to put in a letter. It was in my right hand. In my left hand was something I needed to shred. Our office doesn't have a real shredder anymore. We only have a "shred box" where we toss everything and then some company comes and picks it up for us and shreds it. I knew this was going to happen to me eventually. I shredded the mailing. I threw the wrong thing into the box. I kissed the mail goobye and kept the shredding in my hand. Good grief.

I Loved Iced Tea

I say that more to remind myself that I love it than to tell you that I love it. See, I have these 25 things I'm working on in 2007. I prayed about all of them before I committed to doing them - because I wanted these to be areas of my life where God and I worked together to improve the person I'm becoming. But there was this one...the one that I did just to prove to God and to myself that I'm serious about some of the other things on my list.

I gave up pop.

I'm a bit of a carbonated beverage addict. Of the non-alcoholic variety. Coke is my favorite - the straight up, fully leaded, fully sugared variety. NO diet. NO caffeine free. NO artificial sweetners. REAL. I also like root beer, I learned to be okay with cherry coke, I didn't so much mind vanilla coke.

But I liked it all a little too much. So since it would be a sincere sacrifice to be without it for a year, I gave it up. I've done without for Lent before, but that's only 40 days. This is 365. That's nine Lents back to back.

So yesterday I had "the last pop." I savored every drop.

Truthfully, there are days that I don't crave pop but I drink it anyway, because I don't want to get behind. I was hoping today would be one of those days when I didn't crave it - but as I drove to the gas station for the Polar Tea (to replace the Polar Pop), I really wanted a Coke. I suppose this is the disciplined part of me starting early.

I know I can do it. I was a Mountain Dew addict in college and had to give it up cold turkey right after I graduated because the doctor said it was either that or treat an ulcer. Now I don't even like the taste of the good old Dew. So maybe the same thing will happen now. I don't know.

And I really do love tea. I am just going to have to learn to love it more.