A Shining Light

"This Little Light of Mine"

This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine.

This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine.

This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine.

Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.

Not going to make it shine, just going let it shine.

Not going to make it shine, just going let it shine.

Not going to make it shine, just going let it shine.

Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.

   Chances are pretty good that you have never heard the second verse put quite that way.  I hadn't either until just a couple of weeks ago.  My little girl was given a CD with a Bible story and songs on it and this was how the second verse of this song was recorded. 

   The first time I heard this verse, I thought, "What a weird way to sing the song."  After I thought about it for a bit, I thought, "What a great way to sing the song!"

   Christians sometimes pose the question, "What do people around me think of how I portray Jesus?"  That question is often followed by, "Am I being a bright enough light to them?"  I wonder sometimes if we make our lives miserable and put undue pressure on ourselves by asking such unanswerable questions.  It's pretty much impossible to answer those questions because we can't be objective judges of ourselves or others.  And because each one of us is created differently.
   How many different light sources can you think of?  Well, there's a light bulb, a flashlight, a candle, a spot light, a head light, lantern... I could name a good many more, but I don't have room or the time to dream them up.
   Each kind of light that I mentioned is different and shines differently and is used for different jobs.  That's kind of how we as Christians shine to those in the world.  The light of Christ in us comes from the same source, but how we shine to others is as unique and different as each individual!  Isn't that great!  So go ahead and cook that gigantic pot of goulash for the neighbors!  Or plan a fun night with the neighborhood children!  If that is your gift, Praise the Lord!  (I'm more than happy to let those things up to you because I'm really not very good at them.  I'd much rather write a blog.)
   You may be able to reach someone that I can't because your light is just the right kind that will shatter the darkness in that individual's heart.  I might be able to reach someone else that you can't because of the unique light that God gave me.
   I believe that a sincere Christian, out of a close relationship with the Heavenly Father, will automatically (to a certain extent) radiate the difference that Christ makes in their lives. It's hard to miss a person who shines with the love of Christ. However, some will be turned off by such love and others will be drawn to it.
     We can't make our lights shine.  It's really not our job.  If we try to make it shine, it's a pitiful light and won't last long.  Our lights shine because we let the love of Christ flow through us in the unique way that God gave each of us!  So relax, you can only do so much, God will take care of the rest.  You can't be everything to everyone.  Only Christ can do that and there are many examples in the Bible where people walked away from perfect love because they just weren't ready or able to see Jesus for who He is.  A lot of how an unsaved person views Christ/a Christian depends upon a bunch of things that are beyond our control.  
  In the Bible we can read the story of the rich young ruler in Matt. 19:16-22. The young man came seeking eternal life. Jesus offered it to him, but the young man walked away. What did Jesus do? He looked on him with love...and He watched the man walk away. He didn't go after him and pester him to choose life.  Not even Jesus, the perfect light, was able to overcome the free will of the rich young ruler.
   There is an element of asking yourself if maybe you need to make an effort to draw closer to God, but I think that that's really all we need to or should focus on.  How the world sees us isn't our responsibility.  (Remember I am talking about a sincere, seeking Christian, not a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants "Christian".)  God doesn't call us to worry about changing our Christian walk to tailor fit the needs of everyone around us.  (Which would be completely impossible to do seeing as we are mere humans and can't read the hearts of those around us.)  There is no need to worry about someone slipping through the cracks because we just can't seem to reach them.  (God is big enough to care for His creation!) You may not be the light that is called for in that situation.  Just because you see a need doesn't mean that you are automatically called to fill it.  It may take some prayer and waiting on the Lord to know.  He has called us to listen to His promptings and  follow His lead and He will show us how He wants us to shine. 
   That, however, is not meant to be a cop out.  I have learned that sometimes God asks me to do something that is not comfortable or it's something that I really dislike.  (Like making goulash!)  I just need to be sure that it's God's calling and not something that I am guilted or pushed into doing.
   I have been in situations before where I felt pushed into service because someone thought I would be good at it or there was no one else to fill the empty spot.  Sometimes that can be God's calling, but I'm learning to pray about things before agreeing to do them. 
   We really just need to spend time with our Savior and go from there.  Too often I think that we take far too much responsibility upon ourselves for how the lost view us.  Sure, it's important, but it's not really something that we have all that much control over.  Do your best to emulate Christ in your own unique way, but remember you can't save people, only God can do that.  You can't control the thoughts, preconceived ideas, or emotions of anyone other than yourself and then only with God's help.  You can help God out best by being available and flexible in His hand!
   So relax and let Christ's light shine through you in your own God given way as you fall deeper in love with the Heavenly Father!
  
  




  

   

A Dog in the Freezer~ Epilogue

   Do you remember a previous post about my friend Patty?  You know, the friend who, with her family, preserved their dear Foofie dog in the freezer until they could give her a proper burial?
   I met up with Patty recently.  She had a package for me.  I was touched.  How sweet of her to get me a Christmas present.
   I pulled back the tissue paper and reached in to take out the gift.  I screamed and did a Turkish tap dance.  I wiped my hand repeatedly on my skirt whilst screaming my horror!
   There, lying in the bottom of the bag, was a tail.  Yes, my friends, a tail.  Sick, sick, sick!  My friend Patty is no longer my friend.  I could not get over my absolute revulsion.  She could not get over an acute case of the giggles. 
   After I had calmed down and had taken a closer look, it became clear that the tail had been rudely chopped off from a defenseless stuffed animal.  While I was vastly relieved, I am also concerned about Patty's disturbed mental state. 
   She had best watch out because I am determined to top her!  Yes, my dear Patty, you had best be on your guard.  I can be sneaky too! (Not to mention that I have a blog with which I have no qualms about using you as my main character!  There is power in the pen!)

   Merry Christmas All! 

Will I Ever Be Good Enough?

   As a citizen of a Heavenly kingdom, my mind has been preoccupied with the things of that land that seems so far away, yet is so close at hand.
   I feel that, as of late, God has directed my mind and prayers towards the state of this world.  You see, I feel that the Christian's time on this earth is short.  Like, really short.  Like, we're talking maybe today or maybe tomorrow that Jesus will appear to gather His children under His wing.  Then again it could be a while, but ya never know. 
   This thought brings two extremely different emotions to the surface.  On the one hand, I am excited about Jesus coming in glory to get us.  On the other, it makes me a little nervous (translation- scared spitless).  I don't quite know how it's all going to go down.  Like is it going to scare the socks off of us?  Or are we going to be too busy casting our crowns at His feet to care about ourselves?  I'm thinking that we'll be pretty excited to worship Him and the things of this world will "grow strangely dim in the light of His glory and grace".
     Anyway, these thoughts of His return bring up other thoughts about my readiness to meet Him.  Last year I would have been in agony over this question, but God has taught me a few things since then.  Now I am able to rest in Him and what a glorious thing that is!  My stomach isn't twisted up in knots and I no longer beat myself up and question myself  and pray desperate pleas for forgiveness. 
   You see, I always used to view God as a man with a smile that wasn't quite genuine.  Someone who would promise something, but not come through.  (Yes, I knew better, but human experience had taught me differently.)  I'd heard how He can't tolerate sin. (Which is true.)  How He is a God of justice. (Also true.)  How we need to be working to please Him. (We're three for three.)  I could go on and on.  It felt to me like a LOT of pressure.  I felt like I always needed to be examining myself and making sure that I was pleasing Him in every area.  (Even areas that I didn't know about.  I think I invented a few just to make myself feel like I was covering all the bases.)  If I felt that I fell short of the goal, I would cry and beg for mercy, ask for help, and beat myself up for days, weeks, months, and even years.  I would get up off my knees with guilt hanging over my head and try to do better.  It was a miserable existence.  I lacked peace in my soul.  If I heard a sermon and felt even a little convicted, I would go home and do the above over and over again.  It was discouraging because I knew that there are SO MANY areas in which I need help.  I thought I was following the prompting of the Holy Spirit and I was confused as to why I wasn't gaining the victory.  (Little did I realize that the Holy Spirit is gentle and kind, not harsh and condemning.)  I seemed to continue to do the wrong things, say the wrong things, and think the wrong things.  People would look at me with pity and confusion and I would be tongue tied, unable to clearly explain what I was thinking.  Well meaning folks would try to counsel me.  I would drink it in and try make it apply to my heart (even if it didn't) because I was desperate to be made whole.  I was forgetting that, while God does use people to give wise advice, they can't heal the broken places.  Only God can do that.
   After talking to a couple of Godly women who pointed me directly to the Bible, I was shocked and overjoyed to find that God really means it when He says that He is full of mercy and grace, and love, and a whole bunch of good things.
   I had been trying to figure out the state of my own soul all the while thinking that it was my job to keep it in line.  Imagine my excitement to find these three powerful verses:

"But with me it is a very small thing that I should be judged by you

or by a human court.  In fact, I do not even judge myself.

For I know of nothing against myself, yet I am not justified by this;

but He who judges me is the Lord.

Therefore judge nothing before the time, until the Lord comes, who will

both bring to light the hidden things of darkness and reveal

the counsels of the hearts.  Then each one's praise will

come from God."

1 Corinthians 4:3-5

   Perhaps you are scratching your head right now trying to figure out how this applies.  Read it again but this time take notice of the second sentence.  Paul was telling them/us that he wasn't his own judge.  He couldn't be because not even he himself knew his heart!  I was desperately trying to figure out my own heart and "fix" it.  I can't.  I'm not God.  All my efforts were in vain and it made me tired... literally.  As I said before, I just assumed that this was my part of the salvation deal and that I had to keep my heart in apple pie order. 

   Isn't it great that I don't have to judge the state of my own soul!  Nope, it's not my job!  I can leave that job in the capable hands of my Heavenly Father!  Whenever He gives me a gentle nudge, I can tackle that issue and work through it with His help.  He knows my heart and how much I can handle.  He never overloads me and always allows me to think and pray through things at my own pace.  Sometimes forgiveness or breaking bad habits is a process that can take time.  That's ok.  God understands and gives me the time I need.  My part of the bargain is to pray and work on it with His help.  Can't be lazy, but I no longer feel extreme urgency to "get over" something and make my emotions follow suit... and then get frustrated when they don't.  God sees my attempts, sometimes victories, sometimes failures, hears my call for help, and extends a hand to help me up and give me a love pat.  He helps me to shake off the dust and try again after my botched attempts.  One of the keys I am finding, is to put the failure behind me, learn from it, and go on.  Don't waste time on guilt, it doesn't help and only makes me feel rotten.  Hard to do, but so rewarding when I finally get it right!

   I now have time to lean back in my chair and trust that He will bring to my mind the things that I need to work on.  I'm not scurrying hither and yon trying to figure out where I'm wrong and need help or where I'm doing ok.  What a relief to sit back and focus on one thing at a time!  I am secure in Him! 

   So now when I hear people who make themselves, and encourage others to keep their souls in line, I get a little queasy.  It often comes in the form of questions.  How am I doing in ______ area?  Or am I doing enough in _____ area?  Am I harboring sin in ____ area?  Am I reaching out to others enough?  Do I care about others and their lives enough?  It could go on and on.
   These are not bad questions to ask every once in a while if you feel a tap on your shoulder from the Holy Spirit, but I wouldn't counsel you to dwell on these questions too much.  God is faithful and He will lead you into truth if you will follow Him there.  He knows exactly how much you can handle.  After all, He knows you better than you do!  He is your judge (discerner of the thoughts and intents of your heart) and He will take care of you.  I used to be scared that I would be imperfect in some area and Jesus would suddenly come and I wouldn't be able to go with Him because there was unconfessed or unrealized sin in my life.  Now I know that He always gently convicts and works with me to bring me back into a right relationship with Him.  God is moving us towards perfection, but it doesn't happen overnight!

   Be encouraged, He is doing a good work in you!

*On a side note, you will probably have to endure at least one, maybe two, more blogs dealing with the above verses.  Cuz they're just packed with gold!





Romance: Farmer Style

   As I mentioned in a previous post, I spent a day in the fields harvesting with my man and our crew.  It was such a fun day!  I thoroughly enjoyed myself!  I did miss my girls a bit, but I knew they were having fun at Grandma's house.
   When I left home I thought that I had my cell phone with me, but alas, upon arriving at the field, I found that I had forgotten it at home.  That is a bad deal my friends, because one doesn't want to be "phoneless" when in the field.  (Yes, I know that 18 years ago, we didn't think anything about not having a cell, but I feel lost without mine handy.)  Especially as the one tractor does not have a radio and one must be able to communicate when working with my father-in-law.  (I need instruction as I don't regularly spend time in the tractor, and I have to know what's on the combine driver's mind.)
   I found my hubby and told him my tale of woe and informed him that I didn't want to be stuck in the tractor without a radio because I wouldn't be able to communicate at all.  He obligingly put me in the nice tractor.  (What a guy!)  He at least had a cell and could be reached if needed, plus he's better at reading his Dad's mind than I am. 
   Consequently, as my farmer took the "radioless" tractor (Don't you just love my made up words?)  and I didn't have a phone, we couldn't talk to each other.  It made me sad.  There we were, in the same field, and we couldn't talk all lovey to each other.  You have to understand that we call each other throughout the day a lot.  So to meet my man going the other way in his lonely tractor without the ability to pick on him, made me just about itch.
   It was so frustrating to me that I had to vent.  So, the next time I met him, I put my thumbs in my ears and stuck out my tongue.  Made me feel better.  He returned the favor.  He's so cute when he's being goofy!
   When we met again, I added crossed eyes to the mix.  I fear that the effect was lost on him as he was too far away to get a good view. 
   We took a break for lunch and had a glorious time of venting our pent up thoughts to one another.  There were people with us, so we had to be discreet.  Drat being discreet!  (Please do not get the wrong idea in imagining that we are sickeningly sweet or overly touchy feely with each other all the time.  We just enjoy picking on one another and other people don't always get our sense of humor, so it's best to tone it down in public.) 
   After dinner we went back to our lonely tractors and again faithfully followed our combine.  But a couple hours into our routine of back and forth, we ran out of opened field and Oh glory, my farmer climbed into my tractor and we got to ride together! 
   He told me that it was bugging him all day that we couldn't communicate.  That completely warmed my heart!  To know that a couple times he took out his phone and dialed my number before remembering that I was phoneless just tickled me!  He really does value our rambling conversations of little importance!
   I learned something.  Sometimes men veil their compliments and we women have to listen closely.  It's probably just because of the difference in men and women.  Appreciation is there, we just have to realize it!  I shall be listening very closely in the future.
  When my man asks me to hop in the tractor and go disk a field, he is really paying me a compliment.  He trusts me with expensive equipment and knows that I'll do my best.  Or when he asks me to ride along when he goes for parts, he enjoys my company.  I especially like his nod of satisfaction when I make a prudent purchase that saves us money.  It's a compliment, I just gotta notice it!
   So you see, a day in the corn field really can be romantic in spite of not being able to talk to each other.  One just has to have a sense of humor.  

Harvest

   I throw open my windows, and breathe in the beautiful cool, crisp, autumn air!  I grab my children by their little hands and we go outside to enjoy the beautiful weather.  God is so GOOD to invent a season like fall!  He knew that we would need a break from the broiling heat of summer and He used the best of His imagination and creativity to make a season that shows the earth's beauty like no other season!  Sure, spring is nice (minus the tornadoes), winter is cozy (as long as you don't have to go out), summer is... (can't think of anything good about summer).  But fall is the best of the best!
   I enjoy watching the leaves turn bright vibrant colors!  I love the way the air smells so fresh!  It makes a grown woman want to spread her arms, throw back her head and breathe deep as she twirls in the cool sunshine!  That's exactly how I feel!  I feel like walking for miles and breathing deeply of the unique smells of the season.

Isn't it beautiful!

   You know, I think I enjoy the trees turning color more than I enjoy watching flowers bloom in the spring.  I can never understand why people insist on raking their yards in the fall.  The colorful leaves make such a beautiful carpet that lasts only a short time until God turns everything white. 

  Harvest.  I love harvest.  It's the pinnacle of the farmer's year.  The work of spring planting, the miserable labor of the hot summer months, all have their end in the reward of harvest!
   Do you see the picture of the pivot up above?  My farmer has been busy all summer keeping that thing going so that we could have a crop to sell.  In the intense heat (and it was intense this year), with little to no breeze to keep cool, my man worked like crazy to keep our crops alive.  Now he grins as he drives his big green beast through the fields, his hard work has paid off!  
   The steady roar of the combine as it rolls down the rows, just makes me smile!  I enjoy watching that golden grain pour out of the spout.  That's my livelihood and the toil and hopes of three seasons!  Makes me appreciate my man and his love for us as he works so hard to make life comfortable for us.  He is no slacker.
   As I watch the combine devour the cornstalks, I realize anew just what an amazing provider we have in our Heavenly Father.  We have good crops in spite of hard weather.  Only God could make us prosper after months of little or no rain.  He has been so good to us and we are so grateful!
  I so enjoy riding with my hubby or better yet driving!  My farmer tells me that I am just a peon and that's why I am relegated to "just" driving the tractor.  He claims that I must first work my way up the ladder before I am allowed to the hallowed seat of the combine operator. 
   I take every chance I can to remind him that until a few years ago, I had more combine hours racked up than he did.  That doesn't seem to count with him because I combined grass and not corn or beans.  (I have combined corn and beans, but he conveniently seems to not hear that little tidbit of truth.)
   I don't mind driving the tractor.  I'm not all that excited about unloading the grain cart, but hey, every job has it's drawbacks.  I spent a whole day driving the grain cart, yes, this is my beautiful green rig.



   I only had one mishap which I shall not tell you about because it would wound my pride.  The man who saw my little accident told me that "no one will ever have to know", he didn't even tell my farmer!  But as he was the one who insisted that I learn to unload on the semi, I'm sure that he wanted to keep my inabilities under wraps as much as possible.  (Relax, I told my farmer all about it!  And here I am on the world wide web telling you about it.)

   Anyway, housework pretty much stops during harvest.  That's OK because harvest is only for a short time and I am going to enjoy it while it lasts!  

   Well, I must go!  Yep, you guessed it...I'm going out to the field!   



A Dog in the Freezer

   So, I have this acquaintance, we'll call her Patty.  She called me up one day and in the course of the conversation, she mentioned that their dog of 12 years died.
   I congratulated her and asked how it happened.  This is the story she told me:
   Patty and her family were away for the weekend.  They left Foofie (the dog) in the care of their neighbor.  While Patty and her clan were enjoying themselves, Foofie was getting into some mischief.  Apparently Foofie found some rat poison, and thought it looked tasty.  Poor Foofie!  The neighbor came to check on the dog and noticed that Foofie poo wasn't acting quite right.  So she came back a few hours later and found that Foofie had succumbed to the poison.
   This poor neighbor lady felt terrible and called Patty to break the news to her and the family.  She was crying and tried to be oh, so gentle with such heartbreaking news.
   Secretly Patty was somewhat rejoicing because, while she liked Foofie well enough, she wasn't totally in love with the dog.
   Patty assured her that Foofie's death wasn't her fault.  The neighbor lady worked at a veterinarian clinic and suggested that since the family was away and Foofie was such a family treasure, that maybe she could wrap Foof darling up in a sheet and couple plastic bags and stick her in the freezer until the family got home to bury her.  Patty held a family meeting and they unanimously agreed to turn the dog into an ice cube.
   Now, this is the point in the conversation where I LOST it!  I am NOT a dog lover.  I dislike most dogs and Foofie in particular.  To hear that a sane, level headed person would even think about doing something like this is beyond my comprehension. 
   "YOU WHAT?"
   Sound of extreme laughter on the other end.
   "We had the neighbor lady wrap Foofie up and put her in our deep freeze until we could come home to bury her."
   I was almost speechless...almost. 
   "You have a dead dog in your freezer?  Are you serious?  Like on top of your food?  Stuff that you are actually going to someday eat?  Are you nuts?"
   More laughter.  I know that Patty is telling me this purely to get my reaction.  She is thoroughly enjoying my fit.  Some friend.
   "Well, Foofie was a good dog.  We had her for 12 years and the children loved her so.  Besides, she's double wrapped.  She isn't touching the food."
   "I don't care how long you had her, or how much you loved her or how tightly she's wrapped...to put a dead dog in the freezer is just wrong!  Oh, my word!  I'm having heart palpitations!  Remind me never to eat at your house again."
   "Yeah, it is a little disconcerting.  I went down to get something out of the freezer the other night and opened the lid.  I screamed and quick slammed it down.  I had to take a deep breath and remember that it's just Foofie."
   "Oh. My. Word.  Why don't you bury that thing and get her out of your freezer?  I wouldn't wait another day no matter what."
   "Yeah, I can't get to my bacon."
   "Gross!  You know what's haunting me?"
   "I can only imagine."
   "What if when you move her, her tail breaks off?  Ewwwwww, Gross!"
   "You're so over dramatic."
   "Well, she's frozen, and you know how brittle things get when they're frozen."
   "You're strange."
   A couple of days later Patty sent me a text, "Hey, we moved Foofie, and her tail broke off.  We are overnighting it to you."
   What a sick sense of humor.  Seriously.
   After 2 weeks of moving Foofie to get to her food, Patty finally got the family together to bury the dog.  I know it was this long because I kept calling her to check.  I could go into another whole spiel about that, but I will zip my lips.
   Foofie is now safely 6 ft. under and I am extremely relieved.  I shall avoid Patty's house (and especially her bacon) for about a year.  Give 'em time to use up all the contaminated food.

Yes, this is a true story.  Names have been changed to protect the guilty. 

Shopping vs. Shoooooopping

   I have mixed feelings about shopping.  I'm somewhat of a humbug when it comes to shoooooopping.  If we are talking about shopping, well, now that's different.  Some of you are probably wondering what in the wide world I'm talking about.
   "Shopping" is a trip to a big city with the "grab it 'n' go" mentality.  Shoooooopping is when you go and take your time.  I am a shopper, not a shooooooooopper.
   I love my sister.  She is a wonderful person and I enjoy almost everything about her...except her shopping prowess.  She is a virtuous woman whom I should emulate.  She shops around to get the cheapest price and watches for sales.  She blows me away because she knows if celery is a bit expensive or if the toilet paper was cheaper last week vs. this week.  My mom too.  She likes to take her time and think about her purchases before she spends money.  She is very thrifty and likes to make her bucks go as far as they can.  I admire both of them for their careful consideration and their smarts.
  When they go shoooooopping, they like to go to a variety of stores to get the highest quality at the cheapest price.  They like to stop and look at various things.
    I as I mentioned before am a "shopper".
   We set out on a sunny day, the birds I'm sure, were chirping their warning to me.  The flies were biting, which should have been a clue.  I was enthusiastic, and ready to spend some quality time with my sister, her daughters, my other niece, and my mom (aka Gramma).
   I kissed my babies goodbye and gave last minute instructions to the Daddy on duty and waved cheerfully as we drove out the lane.  I sat back and sighed.  A day off!  Now don't get me wrong, I LOVE my girls, but a Mommy needs a day off every once in a while to recharge her batteries.
   We were on our way to "Stuff" the second hand store that seems to have everything including that faded and severely battered plastic flower arrangement.  (I mean really.  And they wanted a dollar for it!) 
   I skipped to the entrance, kindly tripped the automatic door and waited patiently for the lot of us to get through.  I took a deep breath and instantly wished I hadn't.  There was a lot of life lived in those store items and not everybody had the most wonderful hygiene.  Whew!
   I made my customary 5 minute sweep of the place.  I determined that there wasn't anything there and was ready to go.  I searched for my clan and was ready to high tail it to the next store.  I found them.  My nieces were just warming up. My sister was fingering all the glassware and Gramma was searching for the nearest restroom.
   That's when reality hit like a flyswatter to the noggin.  I was with shoooooooppers.  I decided to make the best of it and make another 5 min. sweep.  Surely they'd be done by then and who knows maybe I missed something and I didn't want to miss a bargain!  After another reassuring loop through the circle, I was convinced that there wasn't anything there for me.
   By now the smell was starting to make my nose hairs tingle.  I decided to help my sister touch everything so that she could feel that she accomplished her duty at that store and we could move on.  Little did I realize that after the glassware, we were to move on to furniture inspection which was what niece #2 was wanting to purchase.  (She was trying to furnish her newly acquired abode.)  So much for my helpfulness. 
   I decided that a little break for some fresh air was in order.  I wandered outside and was immediately accosted by the hot muggy summer.  I don't do heat very well.  So it was either roast outside or have inflamed sinuses.  I figured that I could take a pill for the sinuses and get over it.  If I started to perspire, I'd stink all day.  (Although, I'm sure that the raunchy smell of the store was going to haunt me for a while.)
   As I headed back in, I was relieved to observe my party going through the check out line.  I think one pie plate was purchased, so it was counted as a fruitful stop.  I, however, was beginning to have a sinking feeling in my gut that this day could possibly be very long.
   After a similar stop at another second hand store, it was dinner time.  It was decided to go to Panera to dine.  I had never been to Panera before, but I had a sneaking suspicion that it served as my brother-in-law puts it, "girl food".  Now I am a full blooded girl.  I am feminine and I mostly enjoy girl things, with a few exceptions like shoooooopping.  Anyway, when I go out to eat it is supposed to be a treat.  I do not appreciate eating something at a restaurant that I can eat at home. 
   I walked into the restaurant and was assaulted by a crowd of people also seeking girl food.  "How bad can it be?" I thought.  As I perused the menu, my heart fell.  It was a healthy menu.  These people wanted to feed me an apple with a sandwich!  Are you SERIOUS?  They actually wanted me to BUY an apple... as in pay money for it!  Can you believe it?  Now I should tell you, I don't really like fruit.  I am getting better, but I would NEVER go out to eat and order anything with an apple in it.  (Not even pie.  I like apple pie if someone else makes it, but I would never spend money on a slice.)  To add insult to injury, they wanted me to pay an arm and a leg for it.  I could always order soup, but as I mentioned before, it was HOT outside so that was out.  I ordered my sandwich and bag of healthy potato chips and was still hungry afterwards. I was seriously considering standing outside with a sign that said, "Feed Me Please", but it was too hot to do such nonsense. 
   Then we were off to the next thrift store.  After wrinkling my nose at the orange toilets and the dilapidated washing machines, we purchased a light fixture and were ready to go.  Upon opening the trunk of the van, niece #1 decided that she wanted her inheritance from Gramma early and waited until Gramma was in a particularly vulnerable position and proceeded to slam the door on the afore mentioned Gramma's poor noodle.  Such a crash it was.  It made my head hurt just to hear the bang.  She got Gramma pretty good I'll give her that, but alas for #1 it wasn't good enough!  Gramma survived the cheap shot and I've heard rumor that #1 is out of the will.*
   Gramma not only survived, but she didn't even suffer a headache, which is a miracle.  We decided to move on to the next round of shooooopping torture.  By this time my feet were sore and my temper was short.  I was keeping them laughing because when my temper gets short, my sister claims that I am, "so funny when I get riled."  I dunno 'bout that, but they seemed to think my problems were hilarious.
   It is important to note that when I am with these women, they have a curious need to be within 10 ft. of a bathroom at all times.  Someone is always in desperate need of this little room, much to my amazement.  They can't all figure out at the same time that they need to "go", it has to be about 5 min. after we are out of range of a restroom.  I was grousing about this to them, and all they could do was laugh in my face.  Yes, I thought the same thing...rude. 
   Now, I am not saying that shooooooppers are bad.  It takes everybody to make this world a happy place.  I just don't have the energy and the patience to stand and look at things that I already know I don't want.  As I get older and have a home to manage, I am getting better at shopping for the highest quality at the lowest price, but I still tend to "bag it" if I know that I'm going to have to run clear across town to look at the same model and compare the price.  (Unless of course it is a larger item.)  I am growing in my shopping abilities, but I've got a loooooong way to go to become a shoooooopper.  To be a real, true, shooooopper, you must have determination, patience, dogged persistence, and rubber bands around your checkbook.  I have none of those. 
   I've been compared to a male in this area.  Males tend to hate the shopping experience.  I don't hate it, but I am a lot faster than most females.  I had a female friend who was like minded as I am, but alas, she moved away!
   Anyway, I highly respect and love my sister, nieces, and mom, and the time was well spent with them.  I'd do it again.  (Although, this time I might take a mask to filter the rotten shoe smell. And maybe a helmet.)  

 *#1 actually loves her Gramma very much and felt horrible about beaning her.  It was totally an accident, I think she nearly cried because she felt so badly.

Decisions, Decisions, Decisions

   So... my hubby was right...again.  Man!  I wish I wouldn't have made such a stink about the issue.  My plate of crow is rather large right now and may take a while to digest.
   I am slowly learning to appreciate the wisdom of my man.  He takes a while to think things through.  This can be a trial for me as I am more of a "snap decision" kind of person.  When he does finally voice his thoughts, I don't always give them the attention I should because my opinion is already formed.  As I mentioned before, I'm learning.  I'm a slow learner because it has taken me nearly 8 years to figure out that God knows what He's doing when He puts the man in charge of a family.  I admit, I've still got a ways to go.  It's hard to sit back and trust.  But it usually works out better that way.
   Now he isn't always right, just most of the time.  There was a situation recently where I voiced my opinion (I'm rather good at that if I do say so myself!) and it just happened to be right.  However, he is usually on target with what he's thinking.  
   So what I'm thinking (I told you I'm good at voicing my thoughts!) is that maybe I should learn to trust him a little more.  Sure, I can tell him what's on my mind and he does a good job of listening, but mercy sakes, I gotta quit badgering him to hurry up and think.  Sometimes a snap decision is called for and I shine in such a case, but overall, it's his job to lead not mine no matter how badly I may want to.  And to be honest, I don't really want to be the head decision maker.  I'd rather leave it to him... just as long as he decides to do it the way I want to do it.  No, seriously, I don't want to have to face the consequences of a bad decision.  I'd rather he handle it.  I'm always ready to receive praise for the good choices though!  Which reminds me, my husband also likes to get credit for the spot on decisions and I should be liberal with my admiration.
   Anyway, this decision that I'm talkin' about, he was a little reticent to dive in.  I had some reservations, but hey, everything is gonna work out!  It always does.  What I failed to remember is that while everything usually works out in the end, there are less painful ways of getting the desired result. 
   So, my farmer was right.  I was wrong.  One of the best things about my man is that he is not one to rub my nose in my mistakes.  Nope, he didn't set the plate of crow in front of me.  I sorta loaded it up all by myself because I felt a bit remorseful for not recognizing his wisdom in this matter.  He's a picture of mercy and grace to me.  He let me off the hook and doesn't take every opportunity to remind me that I was wrong.  Somebody just tape my mouth shut.  I tend to be like an elephant, I remember every mistake and I can sometimes be quite the historian.  In short my hubby is a picture of Christ to me.  (No, he is not Christ and I do not worship him, I said a picture.  Whew!  Glad we cleared that up.)  He forgives freely and forgets frequently (sometimes he does this too well, and I end up with grimy whites, but that's a whole 'nother subject.) my sins and the injustices he suffers at my hand (or mouth).   He's truly a Godly man.
   I'm a work in progress.  What can I say?  I can unload my opinion and he can evaluate it and do what he deems best.  I can rest in that because I know that he loves me and wants what is best for our family.  He's a good man and I am blessed to have him. 
  So my job, learn to appreciate the wisdom of this wonderful man and keep my mouth shut more often.  It's a process.  It may take a lifetime to truly appreciate just what a special man I have.  He's that deep.  He truly is a catch!  Just as your spouse is the perfect catch for you!
    
  

Tomatoes & Communication

   God has a sense of humor.  I know this because He created marriage.  I am sure that He smiles every time He leads a man and a woman together, prompts them to make forever vows, and blesses them with all the responsibilities and joys that come with marriage.  I am sure that occasionally He rolls with laughter on the floor of Heaven as He watches us try to communicate.
   Oh, don't get me wrong, He isn't laughing at us, He is laughing with us.  He loves us too much to make sport of us.  After all, He gave us the ultimate sacrifice in His one and only Son.  No, no, He laughs with us.
   Have you ever argued with your man (or woman) for a few minutes (or 45 minutes) only to find out that you really were on the same page to begin with?  So what were you arguing about?  Who knows? 
   God takes a man who has blue hearing aids, and a woman, who has pink hearing aids and puts us together and teaches us to get along.  It is perhaps one of the most frustrating things about marriage. 
    The other day my farmer, out of the goodness of his heart, came to help me can tomato juice.  I was ecstatic to have help with a job that I really do not enjoy.  What a good man I have!
   I had an opinion about the tomatoes that should go into the juice.  I like 'em really ripe and red.  He had opinion about the tomatoes that should go into the juice.  He just wanted to get 'em done.  We proceeded to speak in tones of agitation.  Over tomatoes of all crazy things!  
   As a true red blooded woman, I recalled past disagreements (that really didn't have any bearing on the present tiff) and brought them to his attention.  Like the manly man he is, he shut down.  As a woman, this made me boil.  It's a crazy cycle.  He felt disrespected.  I felt ignored.  Folks, did I mention that this was over tomatoes? 
   So the conclusion of the matter was this... we were actually on the same page to begin with!  Can  you believe it!  So we agreed to agree and happily canned tomatoes together.  I was thankful for his help, and thoroughly enjoyed his presence. 
   He was hearing through blue hearing aids.  I was speaking in pink tones.  He often speaks in blue tones and I hear with my pink hearing aids.  God made us this way... on purpose!  So is His sense of humor sick or what?  I think it's the "or what".
   You know what I learned through this?  Can't figure my man out unless I call on the One who created the man.  I think God designed it this way so that we would rely on Him.  I don't like to have to stop and call on God for help.  It takes time, and I wanna get this resolved NOW! 
   I also don't like the idea of humbling myself to admit that I am part of the problem.  After I let my pride go, and quit rehashing the past, I was able to go beg pardon and happily can tomatoes with my hubby. 
   So my point?  My communication skills need some work.  Humbling myself is necessary and it's not about being right or wrong.  It's about what God wants to teach me.  Yikes!  I'm sure that I will forget from time to time.  I'm not perfect, but I am working towards it.  God says that He is there and willing to perfect me.  Just gotta call out for help!  I'm learning!!!!!!

*The analogy of the pink and blue hearing aids was borrowed from the book, "Love and Respect" by Emerson Eggerichs.  As was the term "crazy cycle".  Good book, you should read it! ;)

Two Small Children and a Pot of Patience

   The alarm awakens me at the bright and early hour of 6 a.m.  I try to stay awake, but alas, sleep overcomes me again.  I sit straight up and glance at the clock.  It is now 6:30.  I groan and turn on the light in an attempt to keep my eyes open.  I prop up some pillows, grab my Bible and bow my head. 
   My prayers are sometimes interrupted by my busy mind.  Sometimes I dream up things I'd like to say to Mrs. Busybody (Which is a complete waste of time as I know that I will never say these things anyway.  Nor are they very Christian things to verbalize or even think for that matter.)  Or I get lost in the tasks that need to be completed that day. 
   I catch myself daydreaming and give myself a stern lecture about being self disciplined.  Lecture completed, I offer my petitions and thanks to my Abba in heaven. 
   My chosen Scripture for the day encourages me to cast my cares on to Christ and follow Him.  I pray again for Mrs. Busybody.  I pray for an extra dose of patience, love and kindness for those with whom I may come in contact on this day. 
   I am feeling good!  I decide that I'm going to bake a batch of cookies to take to our widowed neighbor today.  With that thought in mind, I prepare myself for the day.
   O!  I hear the baby waking up!  I glance at the clock, it's a little earlier than I had hoped, but I'll work with it.  I run upstairs careful to be as quiet as possible.  I open the door and greet my baby with a "Hi lovey!  You're up!"  She jumps up and down in the crib and laughs.  I neglect to pull the pacifier out of her mouth and throw it back into the bed.  I'm halfway down the steps before I remember that I should have left it in her room so that it is there when she needs it for her nap.  Oh, well, I'll just have to remember to bring it back up later when I put her down.
  As I am tiptoeing down the steps, I hear my toddler crying in her room because I haven't stopped in to get her up.  I figure that she can make her own way down as I have my hands full already. 
   I hit the landing and remember that I should start a load of laundry.  I run down to the basement and set the baby down.  She goes ballistic.  Screaming and crying, crawling after me and hanging on my leg as I am trying to gather the dirty laundry. 
   About this time I hear the toddler at the top of the basement steps crying her heart out.  She too is very upset at Mommy because, well, just because.
   I grab the baby and figure out that I can't carry both the laundry and the baby up the steps, so I take the baby up, put up the baby gate, crawl over it, and run down the steps and grab the laundry cart.  I struggle up the steps (dirty laundry is heavy!).  The whole time I am listening to my children harmonize, their cries mingled with angry screams of rage at the audacity of their mother to leave them alone for 1 minute!
  I get to the top of the steps, they are hanging on the gate looking like two ripe red tomatoes, the veins in their heads bulging a purplish color.  I balance the laundry cart, gently pry their fingers off the gate and slowly navigate through them to the middle of the room.  I turn and re-install the baby gate.
   I gather both girls to me and make my way toward the kitchen.  Once there, I sit in a chair.  This of course brings a new round of tears from the baby as she is impatient for her bottle.  I set her on the floor which only makes her livid.  (Did I mention that she is also teething which does not make for a happy mood.)  I am trying to talk to my toddler and reassure her that I love her.  I set the toddler on the counter while I prepare the bottle.
   My toddler is begging me for juice and I promise her that I will get her some juice just as soon as the baby has her bottle.  The baby is now hanging on my legs crying as though her heart was completely irreparable.  I turn my back to the toddler whilst I fill the bottle with water.  The toddler decides that it would be fun to play with the pepper shaker which is conveniently located by her right hand.  Mommy is oblivious.
   I give the bottle to the baby and lie her on the carpet to enjoy her formula.  I turn and see the toddler happily shaking pepper ALL over the stove and floor.  I yelp, catch myself and bring my emotions under control before I speak.  (I have enough presence of mind to grab the camera and take a pic of the disaster for the far distant day when I will laugh about this.)  I gently take the shaker away from her and explain about being wasteful and tell her that she shouldn't ever do that again.  She looks at me with those big blue eyes and says, "OK Mommy."  Then the sneezing begins.  She reaches to rub her nose and gets pepper up her nose and in her mouth.  We now have a BIG problem. 
   After washing her off and giving her a glass of milk to cut the sting, the baby crawls over and offers up a sweet smile.  Her mood is much brighter after her bottle.  I scoop her up and plop her in her highchair.  I should explain that she has a deep dislike for her highchair.  No one can figure it out.  She begins making music again.  The toddler begins to whine for pop tarts.
  After much ado, the children are fed.  I glance at the clock.  It's only 8:30, 12 more hours until bedtime.  Lord, help me!
   I change diapers and dress them, and our work day officially begins.  I glance about the messy kitchen and decide that I can clean it up after the baby goes down for her morning nap.  She likes to unload the dishwasher as fast as I can load it.
   I remember that I haven't started the laundry and I begin to work on that.  I hear a new round of tears from the living room as the toddler instructs the baby not to play with her dollies.  If I ignore it, it might go away...right?
  Another glance at the clock tells me that the baby is due for a nap.  I swoop her up and run up the steps.  She dives for the crib and I search for her pacifier.  My head droops.  It's downstairs somewhere.  I grab her out of bed and lug her downstairs and spend 5 minutes looking for the pacifier.  Then I remember that it's probably in the basement.  I run down and find it on the floor. (Yuck!)  After washing it off, I run up two flights of steps and put her to bed.  "Sweet dreams little one."
   I return downstairs and look in on my toddler happily playing "house" with her babies.  I head into the kitchen to clean up the breakfast mess.  All it takes is the sound of running water to bring my toddler out to "help".  I hear the sound of her chair being pushed across the kitchen and then feel a searing pain as she cracks my ankle with it.  She confidently climbs up on the chair and instantly commandeers the water spigot.  She likes to spray it... everywhere.
   I grit my teeth, but continue doing my job as best I can.  I remind myself that it's just water and it is easy to wipe up.  I am trying not to think about the dirt on the floor that will undoubtedly turn into mud.  I do find enjoyment as I listen to her happy prattling about this and that.  I smile, "What a sweetheart!".
   I make suds in the sink to wipe the table and counters.  This thrills my little miss and she promptly begins to spread bubbles on everything within reach, including the window and picture frames sitting on the sill.  I put a stop to that action, to which she replies so innocently, "But Mommy, I'm cleaning!"
  I finally finish with the dishes.  I groan as I survey the floor which has indeed turned into a muddy river bottom.  I head off to retrieve the vacuum.
   The phone rings and I spend 45 minutes planning a church carry-in dinner.  I sigh, that's another thing I'm gonna have to remember to email to the bulletin lady at church.  I make myself a note that I have to purchase and fry 15lbs of hamburger, make enough rice for 50 people, 2 gallons of tea, and remember to get plenty of ice for the gathering.  A trip to the grocery store is in order.  I fairly weep at the thought of packing everyone one up and going to town.  Someone is going to have to miss a nap and I really don't want to suffer the consequences of their lack of sleep in the grocery store.  "I'll call Grandma and have her babysit.  Yeah, Grandma!  She's always happy to spend time with her grandbabies!"   I'll go tomorrow.  I can't handle it today. That being settled in my mind, I move on. 
   I walk past the bedroom and get a glimpse of my unmade bed.  I quickly make it up.  I hear the beep of the washing machine.  After hanging the clothes on the line and starting another load, I run down to the basement to retrieve the mop.  I battle guilt the whole way because I know that according to some in my circle a floor isn't really clean unless you get on your hands and knees to scrub it.  I stuff down the guilt and grab the mop and bucket.
   "Mommy, I have to potty!"  I help her get situated.  "Mommy, you sit."
   "No honey, I'm going to go put water in my bucket.  You call me when you're done."
   I take the few steps to the kitchen and begin to run hot water.  I am distracted by a glance at the clock which tells me that my man is going to be home for lunch and I had better start thinking about what I'm gonna make.  I shut off the water and run down to the basement to get meat out of the freezer.
   Once back in the kitchen I remember my original task.  I again start the tap to fill the bucket. 
   "Hi Mommy!"  I turn to see my toddler standing there with a grin on her sweet little face.  "I went stinky all by myself!"  My heart stops.
   "Honey!  Why didn't you call Mommy to help you off the potty?"
   She is offended by my lack of trust in her abilities.  "No, Mommy, I do it myself!" 
   I pick her up and head back to the bathroom.  Sure enough there is a mess that needs attention.  I run to the kitchen and make that bucket of hot soapy water.  I clean up the mess and dump the water.  After changing the toddler's clothes, I give her hugs and kisses to assure her that I'm not mad. 
   I hear the baby waking up.  I run upstairs to get her.  I run back downstairs.  It's decision time.  Am I gonna try mopping with a crawler or should I give it up as a lost cause?
  I decide to be brave and try it.  I again start the hot water and pour in the soap.  This makes bubbles which as I mentioned before is hard for my toddler to resist.
  "Mommy, I thirsty."  After pouring her a glass of juice, and reminding her not to fuss because it's a big girl cup and not a sippy, I commence with the mopping. 
   Sure enough, the baby wants in on the action and is trying to dump the bucket.  I take both children to the living room to divert their attention.  This works for about 5 minutes.
   The toddler comes sailing into the kitchen and falls on her rear.  I mop up the tears (yes, literally) and warn her that it's slippery.  About that time the baby comes crawling out to see what the commotion is.  She too does a face plant.  I give up.  I shall finish later.
   The second load of laundry is done.  I put the baby in the clothes basket and pile the wet laundry on top of her leaving her head and arms out.  She giggles and begins throwing the clean clothes on the dirty floor. I close my eyes and tell myself that she doesn't know any better. I grab up the basket and struggle out to the line. 
   As I come back in I again glance at the clock.  Time to make lunch.  I have meat out, but what in the world am I gonna make?  I decide on something quick and easy and begin preparation.  The toddler feels it her duty to "help" and pushes her chair over which again winds up thwacking me on the leg.  The chair must be positioned in the direct middle of the action, thus making it very hard for Mommy to work.  Baby feels a need to be included and fusses and hangs on to Mommy's leg until obliged.
   During preparations, cheese lands on the counter, all over the portion of floor that is actually clean, and yes, inside two little bellies.  Not to mention the many utensils that end up on the floor or in their mouths.
   The toddler decides that she is thirsty.  She spills her juice on the portion of floor that is clean.  I begin to scold.  I catch myself and shut my mouth... tight.  I get the baby off the counter and put her on the floor.  I turn to get a rag.  Before I know it, the baby is splashing in the juice.  On her hands and knees, she puts both little hands in it and immediately looses balance and slides through the juice.  I am about ready to go crazy.  I clean up the mess and change the baby.
   The clock is telling me that I am behind on lunch.  I scurry to prepare.  My hubby walks in a little early and is slightly put out that I am not ready.  I remind him in a tone that is straining to remain calm that he is 15 minutes early and explain that I've had a rough morning.  As it turns out, he must eat and run, so the sooner we can eat the better.  I try not to fume.
   Where is that extra dose of patience, love, and kindness that I prayed for in the beginning of this day?
  Lunch is served.  No dessert.  (Which is rather hard on my hubby as he has a sweet tooth.)  After the usual struggle to feed two little ones, it is time for kitchen clean up... again.  I decide to load the dishwasher in spite of the baby.  She cheerfully unloads it as I load it.  The toddler again sprays water everywhere.
   FINALLY it is time for naps.  I take the baby down to the basement.  She takes her afternoon nap there because she wakes the toddler up if put upstairs with her.  She snuggles down in the pack'n'play.  What a dolly!  How can anyone resist her?  (Only a Mommy can forget the trials of the morning when looking on the contented form of her precious baby.)  I am overwhelmed with love for her as she drifts off to dream land.
   I get the toddler ready for her nap.  She resists.  Which only reinforces my suspicion that she is very tired.  As I lug her up the stairs, I try to think happy thoughts.  I put her in bed, give kisses and turn to go.  She wants the bear that is downstairs.  I run down the steps, get the bear, and run back up.  Her smile is worth the frustration.  My heart melts.  I only have a short amount of time when she is this little and cuddly. 
   Ahhh, peace and quiet for the next two hours.  I sit down for a small rest and take up a book.  The baby wakes up early.  I get the laundry in and neatly fold it.  The baby pulls it all out onto the floor when my back is turned.  I refold and set the basket up out of reach.  As she didn't have a long enough nap, baby is cranky and clingy.  I sit down to hold her. 
   The toddler wakes up and desires to be held for at least 20 min.  So we read stories together.  I put the baby down for her third nap of the day. 
   Shoot!  It's time to think about supper!  Panic!  What am I gonna make?  We have plenty of garden produce right now, so I decide on BLT's.  That's easy enough.  Another run to the basement to get the bacon out of the freezer.  (You would think I'd be skinny as a rail with all the flights of stairs I navigate in a normal day.  I wish!)
  After one tearful call to my Mom (who is a state away and unable to help), supper preparations, and another hurried good-bye to my man as he heads back out to the fields, it is bath time.
   There is much splashing and I am wet clear through.  The hair must be washed, much to the disappointment of the toddler.
   Jammies are donned and more stories are read.  Prayers are said and kisses and tickles are given. 
   Before I walk out of my girls' rooms, I always make a point to tell them that I love them and that they are precious to me.  And every time I say it, I mean it with all my heart.
   As I survey the chaos that is my house, my heart wells with gratitude that God has blessed me with two little people to love and cherish. 
  As I flop into the lazy boy, I grin because only half of my linoleum is mopped, there is still dirty laundry, and I never did get around to baking cookies for the neighbor.  I sigh as I think back over my day and wonder what in the world I accomplished.  Then I remember that it's OK.  This is where I am in life right now.  Someday my babies won't be little.  I will wish for these days again. (Though I suspicion that it might be a looooong time from now.)  I am indeed blessed.
   God has me in the refining pot right now.  He wants to develop my character.  Especially in the areas of patience and gentleness.  May I quickly learn the lessons!