A Norman Rockwell Moment

So our family is enjoying a rare, wonderful, quiet Sunday morning.  We all slept in until about 8:00 which was a great treat.  Our family snuggled together in the family room in front of the Christmas tree.  We shared memories of Christmases gone by and hopes for the Christmases yet to come.  There was laughing and joking and sweetness to the conversation.  The dog was curled quietly on the floor next to Sam.  I enjoyed a relaxing second cup of coffee with my newly made vanilla sugar.  


Before long the kids were getting hungry and a unanimous vote was taken that Mark should head out into the cold to bring back some doughnuts for breakfast.  The minute he left the house, the kids jumped up to wrap presents.  In an instant the calm became a flurry of activity.  

Now, to appreciate the rest of this wonderful holiday story, you need to know that Lucy (our yellow lab) is notorious for eating things she shouldn’t. She loves paper-napkins, kleenex, paper towels.  She has eaten more socks than I can count.  Toys, crayons, rocks, pencils, and even a thumbtack have made their way through her digestive tract.  Sometimes she even resorts to drinking toilet water to wash the forbidden items down.  We have avoided surgery so far and would really like to keep it that way so we keep a pretty close eye on her and keep lots of doors shut.


About three minutes into the wrapping chaos, I realized the dog was gone and went looking for her. 


I found her.


In the basement bathroom.


Drinking from the toilet.


Which unbeknownst to me had been stopped up for several days and ignored by its primary user.


I thought I was going to be sick she smelled so bad.  


She went straight to her crate while I found the child who apparently has never heard of a plunger.  


At this point, he inspected his bathroom and decided it smelled really bad.


His solution was to spray half a bottle of cologne in the bathroom.


It did not improve the situation.


The dog required a bath immediately.  


Inside.  Because it was about 3 degrees.  


Which, of course, left our house smelling like a wet dog running around an Abercrombie and Fitch store.


Ah, the smells of Christmas!


Amy

Confession is Good for the Soul, but Cheesy Grits are Better

Maybe I am rebelling against the anti-carb establishment.

Maybe it is my way of adapting to a more simple way of life.

Maybe it is a deep longing for comfort in the midst of 4:30 sunsets and way below freezing temperatures.

Maybe moving so far north is causing me a subconscious need to reconnect with my southern roots.

Maybe it is just that they are so durn (Is that how you spell it Aunt Margie?) good.

I lie awake at night trying to get to the bottom of all this.

But to no avail.

The facts remain the same.

I am obsessed with Cheesy Grits.

They really are a little bit of heaven here on earth.

They go with everything.

They can be eaten morning, noon and night.

With eggs, toast and bacon.

With pot roast.

With saucy shrimp.

With meatballs.

With beef bourguignon.

In a bowl.

On the grill.

Fried up in some butter.....


SEND HELP NOW


Exodus 20:3-4  You shall have no other gods before me. You shall not make for yourself an image in the form of anything in heaven above or on the earth beneath or in the waters below.

Surely this doesn't apply to cheesy grits, does it?

I am a Dirty Gym Bag

As I wrote this post yesterday, I really wanted it to be a fun and light hearted look at the reality of my day to day life...dishes, homework, budget, dirty laundry.  It took me a long time to finish because I kept feeling pulled to take the post in a different direction.  

Being new at this blogging thing, I was unsure of what to do.  Should I scrap the whole thing?  Ignore that still, small, voice?  In typical perfectionist style, I chose to do nothing.  

Until I remembered the commitment I made to listen to that still, small voice.  What follows is what has been whispering in my ear.

I am a dirty gym bag. 

Aren’t we all?  We all carry around hurt, guilt, shame, unforgiveness, unhealthy relationship patterns, selfishness, unwise coping mechanisms, jealousy, anger and assorted other dirty laundry if you will.

I have a tendency to lug all my dirty laundry around with me until I can barely take another step.  The zipper is straining and the pockets are overflowing.  I may even be dropping things as I make my way through life.  They spill out in irritation with those around me, stubbornness, and a feeling that I am owed something.  

God wants to meet me in the laundry room.  He longs to relieve me of the heavy load I am carrying.  The longer the bag sits without being attended to, the worse the mess is going to be.  

John 3:20 says, “Everyone who does evil hates the light, and will not come into the light for fear that their deeds will be exposed.” 

I have to be willing to unzip the bag and expose it to the light.

He will patiently unpack my bag one dirty item at a time.  He isn’t scared or surprised by what is there.  He already knew and He would have been happy to do a few loads of wash during the season instead of a heavy-duty load all at once.

So, let’s unpack the dirty football bag again, but this time with an eye on how the bag is just like us.

Some of the things in our bag just do not belong in there.  At all.  They need to go straight to the trash.  Ephesians 4:31(NIV) says, “Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice.”  Some of these things fit me as well as a comfortable old t-shirt.  I’ve had them for a long time.  Even if they are nasty and mildewed they are hard to let go of because they are so familiar.  If I leave them in the bag, I WILL wear them again, even if I know they are gross.   Better to just throw them away and not be tempted to ever put them on again.

Other items in our bag may be things that we have outgrown as we have matured.  There comes a time when we have to accept that they just don’t fit anymore and they need to be put away.   1Corinthians 13:11(NIV) “When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me.”  It is time to grow up and replace childish ways with those of adulthood.

The rest of the things in the football bag were able to be redeemed with a lot of Spray and Wash and scrubbing.  Did I get all the stains out?  No.  But, they are still usable.  

A lot of the dirty laundry we carry is also still usable.  Our hurts and struggles have a purpose.  Isaiah 61:3(KJV) “...to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they might be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the LORD, that he might be glorified.”  I love the way the King James version words this.  God wants to take our dirty, mildewed, nasty stuff, clean it up, and turn it into something beautiful for our growth and for His glory.  


Lastly, remember what WASN’T in the football bag?  Protection.  

We may not think we need protection, but there is an enemy out there who is much more determined than a lineman to take us down.  We need to make sure we are protected every time we step on the field.  

Ephesians 6:10-12 (The Message) “God is strong, and he wants you strong. So take everything the Master has set out for you, well-made weapons of the best materials. And put them to use so you will be able to stand up to everything the Devil throws your way. This is no afternoon athletic contest that we'll walk away from and forget about in a couple of hours. This is for keeps, a life-or-death fight to the finish against the Devil and all his angels.”

I don’t know about you, but I need to visit the laundry room a little more often.  

Oh, yeah, and, don’t forget your cup.

The Scariest Moment of October......

• was NOT October 31st with a trip to the local haunted farm and two of the three kids trick or treating without adult supervision. 
• wasn’t the BLIZZARD warning one county north of us.  
• wasn’t the $322 trip to the Walmart for a week’s worth of groceries.  
• wasn’t even the moment that Katie came home from school and announced that she and some punk named Ryan are “GOING OUT”.  For the record I am sure he is a very nice young man...but if he is “going out” with my 6th grade daughter, he’s a punk.

No, the scariest moment this month was when this was deposited in my laundry room.

It had been so long since I had seen this bag that I hardly recognized it.  I was (somewhat) politely informed that the contents needed to be laundered and returned to school the following day.

I was afraid, very afraid.  Mostly because I hadn't seen the bag or its contents for one very long football season.

I examined the bag tentatively.  If someone had been watching the scene play out in a horror moving they would have been yelling, “Don’t open the bag! Don’t open the bag!”  But, of course, I opened the bag.  I couldn’t help it.  In an attempt to delay the inevitable, I started with the side pockets.

Four empty bottles....”Not too bad” I thought to myself.

And then I caught a glimpse of this.

Umm, helloooooooooo?  You paid $2.12 for a 32 ounce bottle of soda???  Are you kidding me?  Whose son are you?  Haven’t I raised you any better than this?  You could buy 4 liters of soda for that price at the Walmart!

Once the shock of the overpriced gas station soda wore off, I moved on to the main compartment of the gym bag.

It wasn’t any prettier.


No, the team does not wear pink football pants.  But, do you see it?  The pink? Do you know what that is?  Some sort of pink mildew.   Eeeeeeeewwwww!

And just as the ingenue in the horror movies, I predictably continued down the dark path.

Okay, these don’t look too bad.....until I remember how much I paid for them just three short months ago.  And realize that they will never be worn again because even though they are a size 13, by next season, they will be too small and have to be replaced by an equally expensive, short-lived pair of cleats.

Oh, wait, what is that?  UnderArmour?  Hmmm....that shirt is black and was only worn on the coldest of days so maybe it will be okay.

And then I remember....we live in North Dakota now and have already had more than a few “coldest of days” including TWO snowfalls, one of which occurred when it was technically still summer.

“What on earth is that?" I think to myself.

I know what it looks like, but don’t worry, it is not an athletic supporter for a cup.  In fact, that is the one item that was NOT in the football bag.  No, the boy has decided to risk MY future grandchildren in favor of being looking cool and tough. Apparently the motto of the 8th grade football team is not something inspiring like:

Keep Your Eye on the Prize,

No Regrets,

Iron Sharpens Iron,

Commitment to Excellence,

Guard the Yard,

We Make Nightmares Come to Reality,

 We Break Ours, So We Can Kick Yours, or

All You Got. All the Time.



No, they have exchanged the traditional for the truly stupid.

Real Men Don’t Wear Cups


I digress.  Back to the football bag.  And what exactly is that messy tangle of white, grey, brown, pink?

Yep. A nasty t-shirt with the sleeves cut off covered in that same pink mold and what looks like tread marks.   This was worn under his pads EVERY SINGLE DAY OF THE SEASON FOR PRACTICE!  Uggghhhhhhhh.... straight to the trash.


Thankfully, that brought me to the bottom of the bag.

I have never seen my washing machine on such a long cycle before.  Yes, two hours and fifteen minutes.  And I am not even going to mention the amount of Spray and Wash I used.

His punishment was having to sniff his own pants.

Of course, all was forgiven when he flashed this smile at me.

*For a bit of a different take on this same subject, check out tomorrow's post!

Mondays are for Music!!

I came across a book not too long ago that explores the idea of spiritual temperaments.  The author, Gary Thomas, describes a spiritual temperament as the way you most naturally express your relationship with Jesus.  His book goes on to identify and examine nine different spiritual temperaments.  

• Naturalists love God in the out of doors.  They see God most clearly in nature.
• Sensates love God using their senses.  Many Old Testament ceremonies involved all five senses.
• Traditionalists love God through ritual and symbol.
• Ascetics love God in solitude.  They prefer to connect to God alone.
• Caregivers love God by loving others.
• Activists love God through confrontation and fighting for change and social justice.
• Contemplatives love God through adoration.  They connect to Him by loving Him purely.
• Intellectuals love God with their minds.  They connect to God when studying His word in detail and seek to understand not just experience God.
• Enthusiasts love God with celebration.  They feel most connected to God when singing, dancing and worshipping with others.

As with most attempts to define personality traits, we are more than likely a combination of two of more of these spiritual temperaments.  

Not surprisingly, I wear my main temperament on my sleeve, so to speak.  If you have ever set foot in my house you already know my spiritual temperament.  I am most definitely an enthusiast.  We have music going in our house almost every waking moment.  It is the one consistent way that I ALWAYS feel close to the heart of God.  

I have a LONG, seemingly infinite list of music that draws me into His presence and one of my greatest joys is sharing it with others!  :)  

So, I would like to share with you a song that I have been listening to lately.  It is actually a cover of a Sheryl Crow song, but I LOVE it and hope you enjoy it!

What about you?  Which of these descriptions fits you?  How does that play out in your life?

          

Our Newest Toy

Do you know how expensive it is to move?  Let me tell you.  The first estimate to move our stuff from Zionsville to Dickinson was over $14,000!!!   I told them not to bother following up because there was no possible way we were going to spend that much to move.  I think he believed me, too, because I never heard from him again.  As soon as he left, I walked around the house and took pictures of everything that I didn't love to post for sale on craigslist. I found a freight company that would haul our stuff for a fraction of the cost. They estimated our load and sent what they thought was the appropriately sized trailer. Despite immediate concerns about the size, we optimistically loaded that baby up.  I really thought we had a reasonable chance of getting our whole house in a 26' trailer.

I was wrong.

As the movers filled the trailer, it became obvious that it was not all going to fit.  So we had to choose.  I had to walk the house and make instantaneous decisions about what would make the cut and what wouldn't.  What didn't make the cut?  Our lawnmower, the ping pong table, bookshelves, filing cabinets, our king size bed, the kid-sized locker unit, the grill, and more things than I can even remember now.  It all had to go.  After round two of craigslist, multiple trips to Goodwill and our storage unit (AKA Mom's basement), the house was empty.  It was a rather bittersweet feeling.  Yes, I had purged a lot and had a wad of cash to show for it, but it also felt like I was leaving so much behind.

Fast forward a few months and it turns out I can make pretty good snap decisions.

Lawnmower?  We have a new construction house and the grass is just starting to grow.  We won't need to replace it until the spring/summer.

King size bed?  It was lumpy and uncomfortable anyway.  And there is no way it would fit in our new, cozy master bedroom.  After 18 years of king-size sleeping, we are now the proud owners of a queen size bed.  Can I tell you how much difference that 16" makes?  People are becoming concerned about the black eyes and bruises from elbows thrown in the middle of the night.  Joking, people!  Well, about the injuries....there have actually been a few dream time elbow incidents.

Ping pong table, filing cabinet, lockers, etc.  We downsized 1500 sq. feet. There is no room for those things anyway.

The grill?  I haven't given that Weber propane thing a second thought.  And here is why~

My friends, I have replaced it with one of the greatest creations on God's green earth.

A Big Green Egg

I don't even have the words to explain to you how much I love this thing.  I really think it might be bordering on some sort of unhealthy attachment on my part.

It uses natural charcoal.

It smokes.

It sears.

It bakes.

It rolls itself into the house and cleans the kitchen after dinner.  Ok, that may be a bit of an exaggeration,  but you get the point.

I wish you could taste some of the food I have been able to make on this thing. Burgers, steaks, pork chops, tuna steaks, chicken, ribs, corn, praline peaches, pineapple, potatoes.

Oh, and I have NEVER had marshmallows roasted to such perfection.  I would love to have a picture, but they never last long enough!

I enjoy planning meals again.

I look forward to cooking dinner.

Mark wants to cook.  He gets irritated if I beat him to it.

The neighbors are begging for invitations to dinner.

The kids brag to their friends about how good the food is at our house.

No one wants to go out to eat anymore.

I am not even kidding.  It is that good.

It makes sleeping in a queen size bed worth it.

A Word of Reassurance

Apparently this post has caused more than a small amount of concern about my emotional well-being.  I want to reassure you all that I have not spiraled into deep depression.  I was just being honest.  I have come to a point in my life where I am done pretending.   I have always been an open book, but perhaps with turning 40, that has reached a new level.  

And sometimes life is just hard.   

For all of us.  

One of the benefits of being so open is that in return I get great support and encouragement from others when I need it.  In fact, within a day of writing THAT POST I was encouraged by three different people!  They shared understanding and wisdom that really helped me clarify what I am feeling.

First, from my mom. 

She is very wise, and I am pretty sure that she is more unhappy about this move than I am.  Still, she was able to share with me her experience as a young newlywed who had moved so very far away from home.  She was sad and lonely and cried every day for at least six months.  But, THERE WAS NOWHERE ELSE SHE WANTED TO BE.  It was tough being so far away, but she would not have had it any other way.  This is exactly how I feel.  Yes, this is hard, but there is still nowhere I would rather be.   

Second, a dear friend made a very casual comment about motherhood; sometimes, watching our children bloom and flourish IS enough.  

She is so right and I am thrilled and extremely proud of the growth and success my children are having.  They are ALL doing beautifully.  None of them would return to Zionsville.  NOT ONE.  Incredible.

And lastly, my forever friend and I had a deeper conversation about the way God sometimes chooses to work in our lives.  I have a tendency to imagine and hold on to the way I think things should look.  God has blessed and continues to bless our family but it rarely looks the way I expected.  It is not in the pretty little package that I envisioned, but that is okay.  Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross wasn't a pretty little package either, was it?

I AM sad and lonely and homesick.  But, I am also CONFIDENT that I will adjust.   

I am EXCITED about the growth and maturity I am seeing in my kids that I wasn’t seeing in Zionsville.  

And, I am EXPECTANT and HOPEFUL about the ways that God is going to use this move to continue making me more like Jesus.   

I hope you can all rest a bit easier now.  

Phil 1:6 (The Message) There has never been the slightest doubt in my mind that the God who started this great work in you would keep at it and bring it to a flourishing finish on the very day Christ Jesus appears.

A Boy and His Dog

I have no words.

Truth Time

This is hard.

Harder than I ever thought it would be.

I know we've moved before.  I knew what to expect.  It's just different this time.  It's just.....harder.

I miss my family.

I miss my friends.

I miss my hair stylist.

I miss fresh fish.

I miss Target and Costco and movie theaters with more than three screens.

I miss options.  Options for schools and restaurants and church and how to spend our free time.

I miss it all.

On the outside, I pretend to be happy and brave and supportive.  But I’m not really any of those things.

I am sad and lonely and scared.

I am weary and discouraged and homesick.

How will I ever fit in where men belch regularly and with pride in public?*

Where I seem to be the only one without ink?*

Where the fact that I am not Catholic seems to be some sort of spiritual deficiency?*

Where I can hardly get down the street to my house because of all the campers, boats, and trucks that are parked along the side?*

Where parents appear unable to comprehend the idea of an organized pick-up line at school?*


Ecclesiastes 3:11 He has also set eternity in the hearts of men. 

Because of this we will never be fully comfortable here on earth.  Nothing here can ever measure up to heaven.

The truth is I was just as much a foreigner in Indiana as I am here in North Dakota.   I was created for heaven.  We all were.

Revelation 21:3-4 Now the dwelling of God is with men, and he will live with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God.  He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.


And maybe that is what I am really homesick for.  A place with no tears, no fear, no pain, no suffering, no loneliness.  The place where I will see Jesus face to face and finally know that I am truly home.



*Disclaimer:  I have absolutely nothing against belching, tattoos, Catholics, campers, boats, or trucks.  These are used for illustrative purposes only!  :)  The school pick-up line, however, is a whole different story!

Wow!  What a month we have had!  Let’s see....

We have celebrated a birthday.

Yes, Sam is now 14 years old.  Did you know that makes him eligible to get a  Learner’s Permit  and be a licensed driver in six months here in the state of North Dakota?  Scary and not going to happen in our family!



We attended a production of Treasure Island hosted by The Missoula Children’s Theater.

Katie was cast as Jan, the youngest of Jim’s seven sisters.  MCT is a traveling theater program that
visits communities for a week at a time and pulls off a great show in a short time.








We made two trips to the family cabin in Minnesota.  Much to our dismay, it is a bit farther from Dickinson than we had originally hoped.

Jacob’s favorite activity is driving the little motor boat around the lake.  He also likes to tube.  Sadly, his favorite tubing companion is now Mom.  I think it is because I am a big chicken and he thinks it is funny to listen to me scream.

Katie got up on skis on our second trip to the lake.  She progressed quickly and accomplished the long-standing benchmark of proficiency: skiing around the island and back to the dock.  We think it is at least a 3 mile trip.

Sam’s favorite activity continues to be the wakeboard.  This summer he was strong enough to really get some air coming over the wake.








School started on the 25th of August.  I am thankful for the return to routine and am hoping to regain some sense of normalcy after a very chaotic six months for the whole family.

Sam was really our big unknown this year since he didn’t start school here last year like the other two did.   Lord knows, being an 8th grader is hard enough all on its own without changing schools and moving 1100 miles away.  After much thought and prayer, we decided to send him to a small Catholic school.  It is a huge change for him, and we were all nervous to see how he would adjust.  But, he has settled right in and is enjoying school.  He has made new friends.  He is playing football and made the jr. high/high school Jazz Band.

Katie started 6th grade and that meant ANOTHER building change for her.  Here, elementary school goes through 5th grade, the 6th graders have their own building and then 7th/8th is at the junior high.  She is off to a great start as well, and is thoroughly enjoying a later start time.  And, I am certainly enjoying the easier mornings trying to get her out of bed!

Jacob is a big 3rd grader this year.  His teacher seems very sweet and enthusiastic.  He has several kids in his class that are friends he met last year.  He has also found a great friend that lives close to us but goes to a different school.  He is hoping to play hockey and football this fall.










Oh yeah, we moved into our new house, too!  But that is another post altogether!

Modern Day Treasure Hunt

In a seemingly endless quest to unplug our children, we tried a new activity last weekend.

Geocaching

For those of you unfamiliar with it, geocaching is a sort of treasure hunt based on GPS coordinates.  You can sign up at http://www.geocaching.com/ to find the caches in your particular area.  You plug the coordinates into your GPS device or your phone if it has those capabilities and then follow the directions to the cache.   The cache itself is usually a smallish container filled with a log book and various items left by others who have also found the cache.  You can trade something or just enjoy looking through what is in the box.  Once you have found the cache, you log your find both at the cache and online.  

We thought it would be a fun way to explore this new part of the country.   For our first geocaching outing we chose some caches that were easy to find and had easy terrain for the most part.  We found one by an old fire station here in town.  The next one took us to a beautiful little dam with fishing about 20 minutes away.

The third one took us to the painted canyon overlook.

At that point, we were feeling more confident and set out to find a cache called "Petrified Canyon"  that indicated it had terrain that would be slightly more challenging.  I guess it is all in your perspective.  We drove into the middle of nowhere.  Gravel road.  Red clay.  We passed oil drills up close and personal.   We did not see another soul for miles.  We wondered repeatedly if our trusty GPS had led us astray.  I became convinced that we were trespassing on some sort of government land and that we would probably be shot on sight if discovered.  We finally reached what we determined was the appropriate place to park the van and head out on foot.

We hiked through sagebrush keeping our eyes peeled for rattlesnakes.  We scaled buttes and rocky formations

 watching carefully for mountain lions.   We searched and searched some more.

One of us, who shall remain nameless, chose to ignore my sage motherly advice and climbed to the top of a steep ledge.  Not a problem until it was time to come down and he found himself careening down a hill of rocks and petrified wood.  I watched in horror as he stumbled and fell.  I held my breath as he narrowly missed a boulder with his head.  I squeezed my eyes shut as his shoulder slammed into a huge rock and stopped him cold.  As he lay there for a few seconds, I wondered if he had actually slammed his head into the boulder and visions of how we would get to medical care screamed through my head.

Oh, yeah.

This is fun!

Thankfully, the only serious loss was a pair of American Eagle sunglasses that tumbled into a crevice that was too deep (and scary) to reach into.  Don't forget about the rattlesnakes.

Oh dear.   I may have given you too much information.  Hmmmmm.   I fear that I have given away the identity of the nameless child.  Hint: Which child is wearing sunglasses?

At this point, we had experienced more than enough and made the trek back to the van to enjoy the comforts of air conditioning set on max.  Did I mention that it was at least 95 degrees that day?   Sadly, we left the petrified canyon without finding the cache.

What a disappointment.  To go through all that and not even find the cache.

How could we possibly soothe our bruised egos?  And shoulders, arms and legs for one of us.

Oh, we found a way.   Let me introduce you to heaven on earth for anyone on the Atkin's Diet.

It's called Pitchfork Steak Fondue.   You don't believe such a thing exists, do you?

Yes, those are raw steaks on real pitchforks waiting to be plunged into cauldrons of hot oil.   

For us to eat.

In the fresh air.

With a beautiful view.

And each other.

Heart disease aside, I think we found a treasure.