I Have Been Waiting For You

I have not posted anything new since...

Well, I don't know. I didn't look. Most thoughts on most days, I've just been keeping to myself. Job security, you know. But, today. Today something happened that if I didn't write about and share for the whole world (or at least the small and sparse neighborhood that my blog followers reside in)-

Well, if I didn't put it out there, then that would totally be on me.

And that would not be good.

In the Bible class I teach, we have been talking about leadership and accountability and joy in the journey. Yes, they all go together; and no, I still have not a clue why the good Lord has placed me where He has chosen.

Me? Teaching a Bible class? Of impressionable high school girls?

Seriously.

But as I presented a lesson this morning, my thoughts wandered back to an event that took place earlier in the morning. An event that very much reminded me God is always with me. He is always there for me. He is always prepared for me. And the thought occurred, if I don't share that story through the gift of writing He has given me (don't laugh), then shame on me.

So this is how it went down.

I woke up to the fella of the house grumbling. Cat #1 left an unsavory sight very close to the litter box; like, right next to the litter box- but not in the litter box. Catch my drift? Cat #2, based on the color of what was left behind (totally separate incident, by the way) left another kind of an unsavory mess on our beautiful, gray couch. Evidently, it was the night of the cats and not one of them had a happy intestinal system.

The fella tackled the litter box debacle. I tackled the couch. Neither of us were happy. Good morning to us all.

I arrived to work somewhat calm. After I cleaned the couch and before I assembled the required ingredients for a presentable image (concealer, hair spray, that kind of stuff), I hit the play button on some mellow worship music and tried to settle down. I kept the same thing playing, courtesy of Bluetooth, on my drive to work. When I put the car in neutral, music still playing, I stayed motionless in my seat trying to absorb every ounce of peace before I opened the door- I teach high school, you know. Watching the clock tick away, I knew I had reached the point of no return- being on time, that is; and popped the trunk, opened the door, and began to gather my belongings.

This is where it gets interesting.

I slung my pocketbook over my shoulder, tucked a full coffee cup in the crook of my arm, held a plate full of leftovers in my hand of the same arm, and pulled my ever-so-handy-dandy pink roller bag-thing with my free hand.

Do you even get that picture?

It took me about five steps with coffee already spilling onto my beautiful pink sweater (yeah, I'm a fan of pink) to realize this was never going to work. I had too far to walk to even pretend that I had a chance in you-know-what of making this happen. I knew I would have to sacrifice something.

Pocketbook? Pink roller bag? Nope. Needed both of those to function for the day. Plate full of leftovers? Man, that was so tempting, but I knew that making that choice would come back to haunt me at 12:35 pm when the lunch bell rang.

Full cup of coffee? Specially brewed at home with my favorite creamer?

Good Lord, say it isn't so.

It was so, and with a sigh and a resolute acknowledgement of acceptance, I retraced my steps back to the car and placed my coffee inside. The thought occurred that maybe I would have to time to come back out and retrieve it before the morning bell, but the thought also occurred...

No. No way that will happen.

So I made my decision and was halfway through the parking lot when I looked up to see a smiling face and heard these six simple words:

I have been waiting for you. 

Now, I didn't hear the audible voice of God at the moment, but as the words of a sweet, smiling girl fell upon my ears, it was as if the Lord spoke to my heart saying the same thing.

I have been waiting for you.
I am prepared for you.

You have to understand that I don't often, if ever, have someone standing at the curb waiting for me. But today, there she was... waiting. My little friend who I have come to love so much surely followed the leading of the Lord when she wandered out that way looking for me.

Looking for me.

Within the space of about five minutes and hugs and words of  I miss you, I had an extra set of hands that helped me with everything from that coffee cup in my car to keeping me company along the way. You have to understand that because of logistics and such, we do not see each other that often. I will forever understand and appreciate that this was no coincidental encounter. It was an appointment and a reminder, and one I am so glad I didn't miss.

I would gladly clean up cat nonsense any day of the week or hour of the day to have that moment again.

Dedicated to my buddy and friend, SB. Thank you for the inspiration.

Brace For Impact

Earlier today I read a facebook comment directed at me from a former student and I'm not ashamed to admit, it hit me hard. No, it wasn't bad or mean or sarcastic, just a simple note that warmed my heart and turned it to mush. After taking a moment to compose myself in the bathroom (hey, who doesn't utilize that quiet space?), I asked the Lord for forgiveness for my self-centeredness of late and thanked Him for the people He has put in my life.

My grandma. We all know that.
My mom and dad. I couldn't ask for better.
My brother. The husband. The three ducklings.

My fourth-grade teacher. She's the reason I wanted to teach.
My high school friends. The reasons I survived a small town.

The drill instructor in basic training who yelled at me in the midst of a rather difficult obstacle course. That yelling is what made me mad enough to fuel a successful finish.

Neighbors, past and present. Friends, old and new. Family, far and near.

I gotta tell you, though, as crazy as it may seem, it's those younger ones who have impacted me the most. The third and fourth graders who let me play cowboy songs to teach them states and capitals. Fifth and sixth graders who let me sing silly songs to teach them verbs and prepositions. Seventh and eighth graders who rolled their eyes (but couldn't help but smile) when I would act like a fool to teach them complex diagrams.

The kids I've had the privilege of seeing graduate.
My own kids who I've had the privilege to teach.

I'm telling you right now, I've had it good. No matter what the future may hold, the people who have impacted me have made the journey thus far pretty darn sweet. I think if we could all grasp that and hold onto it, our influence on the world around us would make more of a bang.

Imagine the impact that would be.

Define Slacker

My dearest daughter recently referred to me as a slacker for not blogging in over a week.

A slacker?
Quite possible.

I could say I've had nothing new to blog about, but that would not be completely true. I have been busy lately and have even had somewhat of a life. Last week, for instance, I traveled with a good friend to a part of the Midwest that was pretty close to my parents... so close, in fact, that they made a four-hour drive and rented a hotel room for a couple of nights just for the chance to see me. Talk about making a girl feel special.

I had a great time, too. Besides having the opportunity to shop a little with my mom and follow my dad's directions to a dive of a place to eat (inside joke), I got to spend some much-needed friend time with my... well, friend. We watched strangers in the airport and talked to strangers in the hotel and listened to strangers on the plane. We laughed and talked and napped on an airport couch for no good reason. Good times.

In the back of my mind, though, has been that last job interview I went on (remember the last post with my sharpie-corrected pants?). I have yet to hear anything which I am assuming most likely means another no thank-you. In addition, my main mode of transportation decided to take an unplanned siesta and is still sitting out-of-commission in my backyard. Thank goodness our back-up plan with over two-hundred thousand miles remains faithful.

Wait a minute. I wrote about car trouble in the last post, didn't I?
See what I mean? Things have been happening, but nothing has changed.

I really do feel like a slacker.

Good thing the NFL season kicks off tomorrow night. The referee situation may be questionable, but my place on the couch is not. Combine that with the return of Starbuck's pumpkin spice latte and my day to volunteer at the museum, and and the mid-week might bring hope yet.

Thanks, dearest daughter, for keeping tabs on your mother.

You are my inspiration.

Please Tell Me You Can Relate

I've been thinking about my friends back home. It seems our communication is becoming less and less. I wonder if that is normal... I suppose it's just a good reminder that life goes on. I know several of them keep up with this blog so I know they know what's going in my world; I just miss knowing what's going on in their world. Does that make me nosy? I don't think so. I just genuinely miss my friends.

Life does go on. I spent a little part of today walking with a friend that I would have never known if we had not moved. Believe me, I would be missing out (and just because I think she reads this blog sometimes in no way implies that I am kissing up). Ha! It's just good to know that when a chapter closes on one portion of our life, another one is waiting to be started.

I guess I'm in a sappy sort of mood, you could say. Today while sitting in church in a pew behind our kids, I watched as one of them discreetly slipped their hand into a wallet to contribute to the offering plate (or bag, in this case). That random act tugged at my heart a little bit. I've always said that if I get nothing else right in this world, I want our kids to honor the Lord in all that they do. It's a tough road out there.

And then there was supper tonight. May I say it was awesome? I grilled out, loaded the table with good stuff, and then just basked in the compliments afterward. Yeah. I'm shameless like that. I'm also an easy one to figure out. Shower the mom with praise and she'll offer to do the dishes. Walking into a clean house doesn't hurt either. Remember, I'm not opposed to the occasional bribe.

I hear the clinking of weights in the next room and the sound of brothers talking. How short our days are becoming! The older they get, the more I'm reminded of how this particular chapter in the life of our family will quickly transition into something else. And then there's our girl. My, oh my. My little girl trying so hard to grow up... makes me want to grab the kleenex even as I write.

So, yes... it is indeed a sappy kind of night.
Nothing is bad, nothing is wrong.
In a way everything is just right.

And that makes me want to smile and cry all at the same time.

Sifting Through The Stuff

For a day in Your courts is better than a thousand [anywhere else];

 I would rather be a doorkeeper

and stand at the threshold in the house of my God

 than to dwell [at ease] in the tents of wickedness.

   For the Lord God is a Sun and Shield;

 the Lord bestows [present] grace and favor

 and [future] glory (honor, splendor, and heavenly bliss)!

 No good thing will He withhold from those who walk uprightly.

Psalm 84:10-11, Amplified



Thank goodness for good friends.

I have a good, good friend almost nine hundred miles away. We met in the summer of 2001 when we were gearing up to kick off a brand new school year at a brand new school. Dare I say it was friendship at first sight? Not everything in life comes that easy.

I woke up this morning in a not-so-good mood. I definitely was not thinking about the goodness of the Lord or His mercy or future heavenly bliss. I was thinking that my head hurt and I did not want to face the day and I certainly did not want to drive kids to school. With two sick kids anyway (yes, we've went from the one sick kid yesterday to now two... just in case you're keeping track). But anyway, I was thinking What's the point of just taking one kid to school? We'll all just stay home so I can rest my aching head.

Except that one (not sick) kid loves school. To her, missing a day for no good reason would be one of the top five worst things that could ever happen to her. She wants to do well. She wants to be a teacher (be still my beating heart). One of the top five worst things I could do to her as a mom would be to make her stay home. So we went to school and I stopped to get gas which required a little shuffling of the funds so nothing would bounce. Just another day in our economic life.

Before I had even had my first cup of coffee, my dad called. He was talking about his weekend (birthday on Saturday) and he made a comment about Mother's Day. It was a sad, sad day. Now he didn't go into details, but I'm not entirely slow on most things: neither one of my parents have a mother still living. I bet that was a sad day. Stuff like that tends to put most things in perspective for me.

Back to my good, good friend, though. I fired up the computer this morning to see the above scripture she had posted (verse 10). I skimmed over it at first, but couldn't get the words out of my head. I broke out my handy-dandy, duct-taped Bible and read it a fourth or fifth time. At some point, the fog of self-pity that I woke up to began to clear.

One day with Him would be better than anything else.

Even if I was the door person.

It makes my heart smile just thinking about it.

All this other stuff is just, well... stuff.

stuff: noun. Refuse or worthless matter; nonsense.

That kind of puts things in perspective, too, doesn't it?

And it all makes me think of a song.

Thank you, Sharon, for being my good, good friend.

And for reminding me every day of the God we serve.



What Tomorrow May Bring

Do you ever feel like you could just melt into your bed? I feel that way right now. My legs and feet ache from walking two nights in a row. How sad is that? My head aches from the Normans and the Slavics and some other stuff that although interesting to read, has left me feeling a little weary. I would take a hot bath, but then I would have to clean the tub first. There's no fun in that.

My girl's skirts keep getting shorter.
I keep pulling them back down.
That's become our nightly routine.

Last night we broke up the nightly routine with a family viewing (minus the girl) of the original Clash of the Titans, one of my favorite movies as a teenager. The boys were disappointed in what they labeled as "lame graphics" and deemed the entire plot "BORING," and yet they stayed glued to their seats the entire time.  Either they secretly liked the movie and just didn't want to admit it, or they enjoyed their time with their mom and dad so much they just didn't want to leave.

And a minor note here.... if you're anything like me, you tend to forget certain scenes from certain movies long ago. This one had brief glimpses of the female form in all her glory. I had completely forgot. While I positioned my hands in strategic places on the tv screen, the boys (and the dad) chastised me for what I brought into the home. Of course, their argument didn't stand a chance when I started rattling off video games that they play (dad included). Nonetheless, we all had a good laugh and I am confident they were in no way scarred. The plus side? No sex, no profanity. I'm good with what they saw. In fact, I would prefer that over most of the crap they see on primetime television any given night.

But that's another story.

I received some sad news from back home today that had me searching for cheap plane tickets. There were none to be found. Driving is out of the question so I read and cleaned and read some more. I looked at old pictures, talked to the kids, and thought about how precarious life can be. I watch the news and see things that don't matter get valuable media time and things that do matter swept under the rug. It really is an upside-down world.

But again, that's another story for another day.

For today, I'm thankful my kids are safe (short skirts and all).
I'm thankful for a friend to walk with (even if I do whine about achy legs).
And I'm even thankful for a dirty bathtub (I can always get a kid to clean it).

I'm thankful for schoolwork, past and present.
I'm thankful for people I have known.
I'm thankful for a God in Heaven.

Yet you do not know [the least thing] about what may happen tomorrow. What is the nature of your life? You are [really] but a wisp of vapor (a puff of smoke, a mist) that is visible for a little while and then disappears [into thin air].

 James 4:14 (Amplified Bible)

 

Happy Mother's Day (no matter what the calendar says)

Where did the weekend go?

Friday night: bonfire and friends.
Saturday night: mexican dinner and friends.
Sunday night: scrapbooking and friends.

Yep. I've turned into quite the social butterfly.

Seriously, though, I think this weekend has been jam-packed with everything that keeps us busy and makes life fun... of course, the twist in all that everything was a sick kid that reminded me that moms really are needed every now and then.

And by the way, may I interrupt this moment to say how refreshing it is to finally have a child old enough to actually throw up in the toilet without you having to witness the catastrophe on the living room carpet? In fact, old enough to throw up in the toilet, clean any mess up (including themselves), and then tell you about it? I'm sorry, but that was a moment worth mentioning and remembering for me.

Anyhoo, the sickness was short-lived and the weekend continued without anymore drama.

A drama-free weekend.
And did I mention time with friends?
Even the cat has been relaxed.

Spring Break is over. The kids head back to school tomorrow and I add yet another class to my already overloaded brain. My husband casually mentioned yesterday that we are indeed having company for Easter dinner (the Easter dinner that I didn't know I was fixing) and I've been biting my tongue ever since.

So many things I could say.
So many things that I think.
So many things that really don't matter.

What does matter?

Well, the youngest just gave me my mother's day present. Why now? Because she just finished it and is absolutely, positively just like her mother when it comes to keeping a surprise. It can't be done. So she walked up to me smiling and handed me a freshly-completed scrapbook full of memories and handwritten love. I was choking back tears before I hit the third page. Good grief, what did I do to deserve her?

This is going to be one weekend that I hate to see end.

School Makes Me Cry; Chocolate Makes It Better

Pardon me while I get all sappy and sentimental here.

There are days I just really get to missing what use to be.
Some mornings find me homesick and in tears.
That's just the way it is.

Back home, there are a group of women and a few men waking up and preparing to head to one of the greatest places on earth, at least in my opinion. It's a place where my kids spent their elementary years and I poured my heart and soul into; I guess that's why it will always be a part of me. It's a place I miss very, very much.

Yes, it's just a building. I know that.
But, oh, it's the stories behind that building.
That's what makes it great.

The first year on the first day, the ringing of hammers could still be heard throughout the basement of a small church. My chalkboards consisted of three small, different-sized boards put together on the same wall. My class of six (I think) made up the fourth, fifth, and sixth grades. I can still picture those concrete walls, our meager playground, and a whole lot of hope.

Years went by and the foundation for a new building was poured. We wrote scriptures on paper and strategically placed them before that first load of concrete ever went into place. Day by day we watched walls go up, swept away drywall dust, and dreamed of what our new classrooms would look like. My last year there was our first year in the new building. We were so proud, so thankful, so humbled at what the Lord had done.

And that's where my friends are today.

Walking those beautiful halls.
Gathering in a beautiful classroom.
Offering up a beautiful prayer.

Praying for kids, praying for families, praying for patience.

Teaching is an amazing thing.
Friendships are forever.
Remembering makes me cry.

But it's a good cry. My kids are who they are because of those early years. Not only did they witness the foundation of a building going in, but they also received a solid foundation in learning. They are excellent readers and writers, they geniunely care for their fellow classmates, and they know the anguish of living with a teacher.

(That last part was a joke... kind of).

And so life goes on. We never know the twists and turns that are ahead. We never know when we might unexpectedly come across a dead-end. All we can know is that there is ONE who does know the way, if only we have enough sense to let Him lead.

In the meantime, I suppose we should just enjoy the ride (even when that ride refuses to upload pictures). I'll take that as a hint and move on my merry way. Much love to all my LWCA friends (and fond memories of Mrs. Earleen).

For the rest of you, tell a teacher thank you today.
And give her lots of chocolate.

Friends

Thank God for friends.

I had the best time tonight.
And last night, too.

I laughed so hard my stomach hurt.
Seriously, who needs sit-ups?

Our kids looked at us funny when we said we going out.
Stranger things have happened other than parents having friends.

Three and a half years we have been here.
Three and a half long, l-o-n-e-l-y years.

I love my husband.
I love my kids.

But my, oh my, I love having friends.

My Friend Beth

In the world of blogging, I have a friend (and yes, I would call her that even though we've never met) named Beth. I think I would even let her hug me even though if you've learned anything about me, you know I'm not the huggy type.

Anyway.

Beth's entry this morning is something worth repeating many times over. Some will like it; some may not. Some will agree; some might protest. But I think there's alot of truth in it. I remember a time many, many years ago when I lost a good friend. We were both pregnant at the same time and we had a lot of fun together. She wasn't really happy, though, in her marriage and would grumble often and loudly. At some point along the way I found myself grumbling often and loudly as well. One day I began to wonder why I was grumbling at all.

Time passed.
Babies were born.
Our friendship faded.

Her marriage didn't last while I worked on repairing some of the cracks my own grumbling had created during that brief period of time. Don't get me wrong; this isn't about broken marriages or marriages that last... I just think Beth's entry is a good reminder to all of us. Her thermostat/temperature analogy hits it right on the mark, at least in my opinion.

And with that, I'll shut up and let her speak.
I hope you all get as much from it as I did.
You'll probably want to hug her, too.

http://iwannabeafarmer.blogspot.com/2011/03/powerful-women.html

To The Friends I Have Not Seen

My daughter keeps asking me if I'm going to see any friends while we are home, and I keep thinking the same thing... I really don't think so. Usually when we visit I have a list of people I want to see and places I want to go. This year has been different. I really don't want to see anyone but the people I am staying with. And I have no idea why I feel this way.

I love my friends. I have some great ones. I'm not mad at anybody. No one has offended me. I just feel really protective of my time and when I look at the calendar and realize the time is rapidly winding down, I don't want to go anywhere I don't need to.

I'll probably regret this when I get back. Or maybe I won't. All I know is that this visit has been different in a good way. I wouldn't change a thing. I just hope nobody gets mad at me because I didn't stop by.

And as crazy as that sounds, it has happened before. Sometimes visits just don't work out. Last Christmas the snow and ice disrupted the plans I had. Just this summer I ended up driving my dad to the emergency room that effectively canceled some things I was going to do. That's just the way it is. You can't please everybody.

So this year I didn't plan a thing outside of my own family activities. Days are spent doing stuff (or nothing at all) with my mom and evenings find us all just sitting around. We can all feel Saturday fast approaching, though. Mom has been doing some mending for us (yes, I still bring things home for her to sew) and Dad mentioned that we still need to go out for breakfast before we leave (something him and I always do). I'll probably do one more load of laundry and tell the kids to start gathering up their stray socks. We'll return our library books and make one more run to the grocery store for snacks for the road. It all just goes by so fast.

As I sit here with the cat beside me, however, I realize that he probably has more to be concerned about than we do. Our poor kitty does not handle car rides well. He senses the movement of suitcases and goes into hiding. Right now he is very relaxed. He has no idea what is coming.

That's because right now all is calm. The middle child is listening to his grandpa discuss his idea of impressing girls while the kitchen is raided once again for pumpkin pie. Yes, I have some good friends out there, but I promise you that none are as entertaining as my dad. I am content being right where I am. I'll try to see everybody else the next go-around.

And hope that everyone understands.

New Friends

My daughter is so proud of me. I have a new friend. Just the fact that she giggles about it confirms what I know all too well... it really is a big deal.

I've never been one to make friends easily. It's not that I like being a loner, it's just that I've never been that good with meeting people. Maybe it's all that torment I endured as a kid. Red hair and freckles pretty much make you a daily target in elementary school and don't let anybody tell you any different. I know, I know... blame it on the childhood. Whatever works.

I've been labeled somewhat of a snob for what really amounts to a severe case of insecurity. I just never quite know what to say to someone I've just met or am barely acquainted with. Thank God for my husband. That man has seriously never met a stranger in his life. A testimony to his friendly nature lies in the fact that he is a tax appraiser and is well liked by tax payers, at least that's what I always tell him. People who cringe at the sight a tax assessor's vehicle in their driveway are offering him refreshments and invitations back by the time he leaves. We balance each other out nicely: he can talk someone's leg off and I know when to cut him off.

In our last house, I lived next door to someone who would become a very good friend of mine. The problem is that it took a few years for me to bridge the fence that separated our back yards. Once we got to talking, though, I looked forward to the times we would sit out back or go for walks and talk about everything from our husbands to our kids. It was around that same time that we moved. Now when we go home to visit, her house is always on my list of places I want to go.

History tends to repeat itself. We've been here for over three years now and I do believe I've finally made a friend just within walking distance of our house. Only time will tell the depth of what this friendship may be, but at least it's a start. As my daughter knows, it is a big deal. She asked me if I was gonna see if my new friend has a Facebook page. I told her not yet; she may see my profile information and get scared. Baby steps.

For now, it's just nice to be invited to someone else's house. I hope my husband doesn't talk them to death.

What Does Your Bookshelf Say About You?

I was doing some painting in a home today when my eyes were naturally drawn to a bookshelf. Patience was definitely in demand as I waited until the brush I was trimming out the baseboards with took me in that general direction. Once there, I have to admit some time was lost as I tilted my head sideways to check out the titles. Having never met the homeowner, I nonetheless felt like I had encountered an old friend by the time my eyes searched the bottom shelf. Extremely organized, the top two shelves were dedicated to books of a religious sort and motivational titles. What followed below, though, was what got my heart racing. History titles. Civil War themes. A biography on Dolly Madison. If my husband had not been present urging me on with a paint bucket in hand, I do believe I might have dared to pluck a book or two from their perch. My trim work resumed, however, even as I was planning what treasure of my own I might send over for a potential book swap. Can friends be made over what a bookshelf contains? We'll find out tomorrow.