Troubled Times

Now my soul is troubled, and distressed, and what shall I say? John 12:27

I went to bed troubled and I woke up troubled. The morning news has left me more troubled. Earthquakes, tsunami warnings, and an idiot terrorist threat at our local airport is just plain craziness.

And there will be signs in the sun and moon and stars; and upon the earth

 there will be distress (trouble and anguish) of nations

 in bewilderment and perplexity at the roaring of the sea.

Men swooning away or expiring with fear and dread and apprehension and expectation of the things that are coming of the world; for the very powers of the heavens will be shaken and caused to totter.

And then they will see the Son of Man coming in a cloud

 with great power and glory.

Now when these things begin to occur, look up and lift up your heads,

 because your redemption (deliverance) is drawing near.

 Luke 21: 25-28

I was going to stop with verse twenty-five, but it was so good I had to go on. I know not everybody thinks the same way I do. I've had comments before that the writing is good, but the religion part could be left out. If I left that part out, however, I would have nothing to write about.

Most of the time I have no clue what I am doing. The news can worry me, my kids can frustrate me, and my husband can completely rock my world when he casually mentions that a part of his family has invited themselves to our house for Easter dinner. (You did catch the invited themselves part, right?)

The same family that we haven't seen for over a year. At least part of that family. The other part, the part that completely ignores us and pretends that we don't exist, are probably just gonna kick back and see how the whole thing plays out.

And when did I say I was cooking Easter dinner?

So you see, sometimes my troubles can begin from my own selfish dislikes and general feelings of I don't want to do this. The only good thing I can say is I knew this day was coming. I had already asked the Lord to guard my mouth when the subject came up and I gotta say, my mouth stayed shut. Miracle! Of course, that very fact has got that wonderful husband of mine very suspicious. My strange silence on the idea of his crazy family coming to dinner has probably got him thinking I'm moody and mad and who knows what else.

Well, technically... he's right on all accounts, but at least I haven't said anything. Baby steps.

Oh, Lord, save me from myself.

And be with those in Japan and Hawaii and the rest of the west coast.

And the idiot thinking he was gonna blow up something at the airport or plane or whatever that was?? Well, I'm thinking he just needs a good, swift kick in the pants, but you know best.

That's why you're YOU and I'm me.

Blessed be the Lord,

 Who bears our burdens and carries us day by day.

 Psalm 68:19

Strange Days

It's been a day of strangeness.

A day of pain.
A day of cake.
A day of bonding.

The pain came in the form of my wrist and my daughter's mouth. I realize how scary that may sound. My right wrist hurts to the point that I broke down today and bought some sort of wrist-support thing. It feels better with it on and yet looks a tad bit tacky. I'll take the feel good part for now.

My daughter took her first step towards braces today. I signed papers and promised to pay... can't wait to see how that works out. She is happy and excited and a little bit nervous, but mostly is distracted by pain tonight. She's nursing those new spacers with a little help from a chocolate shake.

The cake part came after school when I took the kids by Starbucks for a freebie kind of celebration. We each got a drink and a sweet treat. I just reheated my coffee that I never got around to drinking earlier. The sweet treat I'm saving for tomorrow morning.

And the bonding came out of an unfortunate situation, but a good time of sharing nonetheless. Being a mom is hard. Being vulnerable is scary. But I think being a teenager in today's world beats them both. All I can do is pray and talk to the cat and shine the floors.

Remember, I do my best work when I'm troubled.

On a side note, we had Chinese for dinner tonight and the guy who likes my hair offered us $500 for a clipping of it. Twice. And he even pulled out scissors. So I'm thinking next time we go back, I will be prepared with a small token of Chinese good luck. We'll see if that offer still stands. In fact, I'm thinking we may have just found a way to pay for those braces.

Wouldn't that be something else?

Stranger things have happened.

Dresses and Quilts

My girl wore a dress to school today and looked absolutely beautiful. I couldn't help but admire her and then after thinking about it for a few minutes, I thought, Hey, that's my dress.

And it looked so much better on her. Things sure have changed.

I've got a cedar chest full of her frilly little dresses that she had as a new baby. By that stack, there are several my grandma made for her; some have bonnets to match, a few have aprons. Then there are the ones my mom made her. Now those are the fancy ones. I have never known a better seamstress than my mom. The clothes she can make would rival anything you could find in any store, at least in my opinion. It's just too bad that gene skipped me.

I wonder sometimes what we will do with all those dresses. Mom has talked about making all of them into a quilt, especially the ones Grandma made. I love that idea, but my oh my, do we ever have a lot of quilts! From where I sit, I can see one that Mom and Grandma worked on (a lot of embroidery!), one Grandma made for our wedding, and the last one she gave me before she went home with the Lord. In our attic there are at least four that I can think of... one for each of the kids and another her and Mom worked on (more embroidery).

Here we go again. My grandma is everywhere I look. Her face is to my left smiling at me now.

Good morning, Grandma. How's that heavenly garden working out?

And with that, I'm gonna quit. I've got too much to work on today and it is much too gloomy out to take a trip down memory lane. The memories are good, but I've got a feeling that any more talk about dresses, quilts, or gardening will suck me in and not let me go for a while.

And the last thing that little old lady would want is to witness a pity party. She's too happy anyway. Her girl went to school in a dress today, swinging that hair and talking nonstop.

Things are just as they should be.

About Me

I (Wisdom from God) love those who love me,
and those who seek me early and diligently

SHALL FIND ME.

 Proverbs 8:17

For the record, I don't get most things right. I get mad when someone rolls their eyes at what I've fixed for dinner. I have never been able to cut hair straight. I don't understand algebra. I grow weary about pushing kids to do well in school. Just get that diploma! My chocolate chip cookies always turn out flat.

 

 

Hear instruction and be wise, and

DO NOT REFUSE OR NEGLECT IT.

Proverbs 8:33

 

Then there are some things I know I do right. I keep a clean house. I know how to roll socks and tri-fold underwear to satisfy my military husband's idea of a proper dresser drawer (and no, I'm not joking but that is a joke that will take us well into our old-age years). I can bake one delicious Hershey's chocolate cake.

For whoever finds me (Wisdom)

finds life and draws forth and obtains

FAVOR FROM THE LORD.

Proverbs 8:35

I like to think I'm a good listener, but my youngest will tell you I'm not. I'd like to tell you I'm not judgmental, but the middle would challenge that one. I can pretend to know what's wrong with the computer and the oldest will set me straight. I think I've got God figured out and He laughs right along with me.

The reverent and worshipful fear of the Lord

is the beginning (the chief and choice part) of Wisdom,

and the knowledge of the Holy One is

INSIGHT AND UNDERSTANDING.

Proverbs 9:10



The only time I'm me is when I'm with Him.

That's when you see the real me, the way He intended.

Uneven hair and all.



 

Remembering

A chain-kind of status update on Facebook tonight pushed my mind back quite a few years in time. What I mean by chain update is that it's one of those that gets copied and pasted who knows how many times by who knows how many people. It went something like this:

Lost angels: We remember all babies born sleeping,

Or whom we have carried but never met,

Or those we have held but could not take home,

Or the ones who came home but could not stay.

Make this your profile status, if you,

Or someone you know has suffered the loss of a baby.

Baby loss is still a taboo subject. Break the silence.

I saw myself about fifteen years younger and with only little boy at the time. After a trip to the emergency room for a non-related pregnancy issue, I woke up from anesthesia to discover I was pregnant. In other words, we didn't have a clue. I can still remember the nurse talking to me as I was opening my eyes.

Angela, the baby is fine.

Baby? I'm thinking, What baby? Well, lo and behold, there was a baby and we were in just the first few weeks.  My little emergency issue had been taken care of and we were released to go home.

To go home and tell our little boy that he was about to become a big brother.

The joy didn't last, though. Just one month after that day my mom sat with me as I waited for my doctor's appointment for a check-up. I remember watching a little girl play in the waiting room. Her mom (or the lady with her) called her by the name Savannah. I thought that would be a pretty name for a little girl with red hair. Savannah Rose.

The appointment did not go well. There was no heartbeat to be found; only what the doctor called a "mass" and a "blob". If I had not been in shock, I think I would have had some words for that woman. That was not a mass or a blob she was talking about. That was my baby. And my baby had died. I never went back to her again.

I was set up for another appointment in the hospital just a few days later. My husband held my hand and our preacher stopped in. I cried before I went under and I cried when I woke up. It was one of the saddest days of my life.

And so once a year I take time to reflect and wonder about what might have been. Anytime I hear the name Savannah or visit the city Savannah or read the book Savannah (which, by coincidence, I just bought a paperback copy today at a book fair), I think about the baby that forever in my mind will be the one who had my red hair. Only God knows, but the thought makes me smile at an otherwise sad memory.

Bittersweet moments for those that know.

The Third Try

Okay. I am going to try this again.

This is the third time I've faced this same scene this morning.

The third cup of coffee. The third shot of caramel macchiato creamer.

(This, however, is not the third cookie. I do have the rest of the day to pace myself through, you know).

I feel like I have so much to get done today, I have mentally shut down.

One more paper to go for a homework-free weekend.

One kitchen to clean. One dinner to make including two extra guests.

One middle school play to attend starring my daughter.

Well, technically, she's not the star, but she might as well be as far as I'm concerned. I honestly don't know how much stage time she will have. The script has been a closely guarded secret. All I know is that she's in it and we had to make a very fast trip to Walmart this morning before school for needed shoes. I'm good at planning that way.

It's kind of gloomy out today and my electric blanket was calling to me earlier.

Come back and get warm.

You can't think anyway.

Ten minute power naps work wonders.

Except I didn't nap, but I did get warm.

And ten minutes turned into a little over thirty.

And I mentally added about five extra things to my to-do list.

So here I am again. Procrastinating and taking pictures of my cozy little desk and reminding myself how good I'll feel when I finish and hit save. I have a thousand words to write in one hour. I can do this.

Just not while I'm doing this.

Thanks for the warm-up.

And A Child Shall Lead Them

Have you ever had one of those moments when you are stopped right in the middle of your tracks? You're going through life, planning dinner, washing clothes, feeding the cat, lecturing kids... doing all those things that keep us so busy and feeling important and what would the world do without us stuff.

Or maybe I'm the only one with that last issue. I don't know. I do know that being a mom to kids that would struggle to eat something besides ramen noodles and a husband who would stare in disbelief at an empty sock drawer has tended to feed my ego over the years.

And there I go again.

For the record, my kids could take care of themselves food-wise. Between their grilled cheese and muffin-making skills, they would survive. And my husband is the kind of man that does what needs to be done. An empty sock drawer would not scare him. He. Is. Awesome.

But maybe you can see what might get me in trouble. My mouth. And to be more specific, my mouth that knows only one method of talking.

Sarcasm.

Oh, I try to fight it, but that tone always comes ringing through. I hear it so clearly in one of my own children and at times I don't know whether to laugh or cry. Sarcasm does have its place in life. But that's the key. Its place.

Lord, help me to keep my tongue in its place.

So here's the deal. Yesterday between picking up two kids from tutoring/school and picking another one up from play practice, we had some time to kill. Seeing as how I needed a fast trip to get some stuff for supper, this was not a problem. The problem is that I like to calculate everything: I pre-plan my route through the store, I consider time spent waiting in line, I think about traffic and stoplights. I knew when we needed to be pulling out of the store parking lot so I could be pulling into the school parking lot right on time.

I wonder how my kids will reminisce about the pre-store huddle:

Thirty minutes.
Garden center checkout.
Be there.
Break!

Okay. Possibly not that extreme, but you get the idea. So when I was already checked out and in the van with one out of two kids, I was getting a tad bit agitated. I made a phone call, was told the missing one was in the checkout line, and expressed my impatience with Hurry up!

I saw that kid running though the parking lot and as he jumped in the car breathless, I looked at his bag with the unique logo of Twizzlers shining through the earth-unfriendly plastic.

Glad to see you're spending your money wisely.

Boy, typing these words just does not do them justice. Picture the same words above dripping with sarcasm with a particular emphasis on the word wisely. Say them out loud while looking down your nose with a superior, mom-like attitude.

Glad to see you're spending your money wisely.

That child looked at me speechless. When he did find his voice, he simply said, I wish you hadn't said that.

He pulled out a package of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. My favorite. And not the little candy bar-sized package, but a big package, like the kind you would buy to give away at Halloween.

I got these for you.

So I attempted a feeble attempt of covering my tracks. With a smile on my face and no sarcasm to be found, I said once again, Glad to see you're spending your money wisely.

Yeah. No banana. We both knew I was busted. Feeling very much like the idiot I had made myself out to be, we went on our way, picked up the third child, and went home. He kind of laughed about it later saying that while he was in line waiting to check out he was rehearsing what he was going to say when he handed me the package.

For the best mom ever.

The best mom? Who cares if it's sappy and cliche' and he'll forget that this weekend when I'm harping on him to clean his room. The point is that for a brief moment in this infinite universe in which we live, he thought it.

And my big mouth ruined it.

So to Nick, my seventeen-year old son who has been reading his way through the four gospels and thinking about college and trying to do something nice by buying his mom peanut butter and chocolate, I am really really sorry. You taught me a very painful lesson about watching not only what I say, but how I say it. The funny thing is that I was the one always teaching you about the power of words, but you turned it around and taught me a thing or two.

If anyone thinks himself to be religious

 (piously observant of the external duties of his faith)

 and does not bridle his tongue but deludes his own heart,

this person's religious service is worthless (futile, barren).

 James 1:6, Amplified Bible