We did it. We intervened. "My name is Marilyn. M-A-R-I-L-Y-N."
Went to mom's yesterday to confront her on the house situation and her lack of participation in getting her out of the financial hole she's dug herself into. The four of us (sis, bro-in-law, hubby and I) had a talk with her about our boundaries and the ground rules for us helping her sort her stuff, all the paintings (over 200) and get the house ready to sell quickly. Every time we go it's a huge fight... The last two times were awful. (The last time was the worst. I went off on her... She bawled and through the tears said, "I just have one question. Do you want me alive, or do you want me dead? Because I can make either happen easily." Give me a fricken break. I just told her that I won't even honor that question with an answer. She said, "That's your answer." I said, "No, I won't answer that because it's a ridiculous question." At the end of our time there helping her sort all the paintings to get them ready to sell (to a gallery that I contacted) she told me "screw you" as I left. That's nice.) So, we're pretty much over it. We had basically three conditions: 1) She must own the process and participate. If she doesn't do anything, we don't do anything. 2) She needs to be respectful of us, and truly be grateful with us for what we're willing to do to serve her. As soon as we even hint that she is ungrateful, we're out. 3) There will be no arguments. We don't have time to sit and argue and listen to her complain about everything. We won't engage with her in that manner, and if she chooses to engage in argument, we'll just leave. She, in turn, had a couple of ground rules of her own. 1) She wants input into the work we're doing. And 2) she wants to be able to say what is kept, thrown out or sold. We all agreed to the terms. We made it very clear to her that the process is in her hands and that she has control of the outcome. (She can be nice to us through the process, and we'll be happy to labor for her. Or... she can blame and criticize, and talk about us behind our backs, and we'll be happy to let her handle it all herself - in which case she can't ever say that she "couldn't get anyone to help." See, I'm not willing to sacrifice my time with my family and the limited amount of time I already have with my precious boy to deal with a bitter, resentful, vicitimized person.)
She seems to have heard us, but we'll see how the next few weeks go! She (mother) actually had the nerve to argue with me about paint colors, etc. Right... so... the paint is free... Our labor is free. Everything we're doing is volunteer. Plus, she won't be living in that house for much longer anyway. Scott just told her, "Pretty much any paint color looks better than what's there." She agreed. Scott was awesome. He backed her into a corner on every point she tried to make. It was hilarious. She also said, "I've been trying for years to get people here to help me." Scott asked, "Who have you asked?" She said, "You guys." He said, "Hmmm, that's funny. Seems to me we've been down here helping you and every time you request that we do yard work. So, that's what we do, and now you're saying that you couldn't get anyone to help you sort through your stuff. So, how are we to blame when we did what you asked?" She said, "Yeah... that's true."
HAHAHA Oh, geez. This is such a joke.
Lord, help me if I ever become my mother.
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Thursday, July 24, 2008
POed
Ok, I just need a moment to vent. I've been up all night because just as I was dozing off, a little thought popped into my head and I've been pissed about it ever since.
Those of you who know me well, know the drama between my mother and I. I've done a LOT of work over the last 5 years or so to fix my end and I finally got to the point where I could forgive, and mourn. I had to mourn the loss of my mom. Let me 'splain. There was always this hope that my mom could just be a mom to me. It dawned on me - a little revelation, if you will - that my mom is who she is and will likely never change, and I needed to get to a place where I expected nothing less than that from her. In other words, I could not expect her to be anything other than what she is. So, for me, that meant I couldn't expect her to be my friend, say kind words, accept me for who I am without all the digs and criticisms about my life and character, and so forth. I had to let go of what I thought she should be and just allow her to be.
I've realized that since then, I've been able to look at her through the same lense that Jesus looks at her. She is a child of God. She is loved. She is broken. And I needed to love her despite all of the crud that mucks us all up, inside and out. It has completely changed the way I relate to her. I don't engage in the digs because her words mean nothing to me. I'm solid in who I am, so when she criticizes me, I know it isn't me she criticizes. It's her. She can't stand who she is. She hates being in her own skin. So, of course, what does she do? She lashes out at the easiest target. I just happen to be the one that she became accustomed to targeting over the years. I'm not sure she knows what to do now that I don't engage in that way. (It's kind of funny, really.)
So.. that brings me to yesterday. My beloved sinister (scab) sends me an email loaded with the news that my mom has now received her second notice of foreclosure. On September 20th, they will start charging her 9% per day on the $13K she owes on the the failure to pay her property taxes for the last 4 or 5 years. My initial response was, well... that's no shock. We saw that coming 5 years ago.
But then I got alone and quiet and the thought popped into my head that I've been praying about ever since and that is, true to form, I wouldn't have expected anything less, but now that she got herself into this pickle, which she knew would happen, she will expect that her kids bail her out. Let me make this clear, in a couple of months, my mother will be homeless. She's going through chemo for the probably last time (I honestly don't know how she will make it through this one, but I've seen God perform miracles in her before). She is absolutely broke. She refuses to sell the paintings. So, instead of being responsible EVER, she will likely lose everything. Everything. That means, whatever is in her home at the time will be seized. Including the paintings that she has hoarded for all these years.
I'm pissed because once again it is somehow our fault that this has happened. "She can't get anyone to help", "I call and no one calls me back", "I'm just going to burn the paintings"... blah blah blah. All bullshit.
That's my rant for the morning.
Jesus, change my heart and help me to see this situation the way that you see it.
Those of you who know me well, know the drama between my mother and I. I've done a LOT of work over the last 5 years or so to fix my end and I finally got to the point where I could forgive, and mourn. I had to mourn the loss of my mom. Let me 'splain. There was always this hope that my mom could just be a mom to me. It dawned on me - a little revelation, if you will - that my mom is who she is and will likely never change, and I needed to get to a place where I expected nothing less than that from her. In other words, I could not expect her to be anything other than what she is. So, for me, that meant I couldn't expect her to be my friend, say kind words, accept me for who I am without all the digs and criticisms about my life and character, and so forth. I had to let go of what I thought she should be and just allow her to be.
I've realized that since then, I've been able to look at her through the same lense that Jesus looks at her. She is a child of God. She is loved. She is broken. And I needed to love her despite all of the crud that mucks us all up, inside and out. It has completely changed the way I relate to her. I don't engage in the digs because her words mean nothing to me. I'm solid in who I am, so when she criticizes me, I know it isn't me she criticizes. It's her. She can't stand who she is. She hates being in her own skin. So, of course, what does she do? She lashes out at the easiest target. I just happen to be the one that she became accustomed to targeting over the years. I'm not sure she knows what to do now that I don't engage in that way. (It's kind of funny, really.)
So.. that brings me to yesterday. My beloved sinister (scab) sends me an email loaded with the news that my mom has now received her second notice of foreclosure. On September 20th, they will start charging her 9% per day on the $13K she owes on the the failure to pay her property taxes for the last 4 or 5 years. My initial response was, well... that's no shock. We saw that coming 5 years ago.
But then I got alone and quiet and the thought popped into my head that I've been praying about ever since and that is, true to form, I wouldn't have expected anything less, but now that she got herself into this pickle, which she knew would happen, she will expect that her kids bail her out. Let me make this clear, in a couple of months, my mother will be homeless. She's going through chemo for the probably last time (I honestly don't know how she will make it through this one, but I've seen God perform miracles in her before). She is absolutely broke. She refuses to sell the paintings. So, instead of being responsible EVER, she will likely lose everything. Everything. That means, whatever is in her home at the time will be seized. Including the paintings that she has hoarded for all these years.
I'm pissed because once again it is somehow our fault that this has happened. "She can't get anyone to help", "I call and no one calls me back", "I'm just going to burn the paintings"... blah blah blah. All bullshit.
That's my rant for the morning.
Jesus, change my heart and help me to see this situation the way that you see it.
Sunday, July 6, 2008
The Weirdness of the PacNW
Since I wrote my last blog, I've had some interesting conversations. Most of them started because the few who know me fairly well could tell something was different when we returned from Chicago. Usually I would answer "I'm doing great" when someone would ask how I was doing. (And it isn't a lie. I really AM doing great... Just extremely homesick and friendsick... if that is even a word.) But.. there was one who wouldn't take that as the "real" answer and kept pressing. Then the tears started. That was enough. She sat in my office and just listened as I unloaded.
Then she said that she felt exactly the same way. She has lived in Oregon for 26 years and STILL doesn't have any close friends.
Disclaimer: My last entry and this isn't meant to be hurtful to anyone. It is just me trying to put words to my sadness.
It's kinda funny (not in a haha way, but a peculiar, "sad clown" sort of way) living back in the Pacific NW. I couldn't put my finger on it for such a long time... What is it about this place that doesn't make it feel like home? Well... after numerous conversations with those who have moved here from other places, we all came to the same conclusion. Hospitality. Very few people here are hospitable. Sure, people have you over for a BBQ and a few laughs, but it isn't the same. In the midwest, people welcome you into their home as if you are just part of the family. They look into your eyes when you speak as if hanging on your every word. They intently listen, not to just the words you speak, but to your breath, your posture, all the stuff that happens in between words. It's hard to explain unless you've felt it, too. I grew up here and wouldn't have felt this way if it weren't for the last 15 years spent in other states. And then coming back isn't the "homecoming" I thought it would be. I'm not sure what I expected... I don't think I really expected anything other than to just do life with other people - whether in a similar life place or not. I've never had such a hard time trying to make friends! I've had to work REALLY hard. It's exhausting. Truly exhausting. And I don't understand why it has to be such a chore to walk alongside people.
The people that I've spoke to on this subject have all had the exact same experience. God created us to be in fellowship and community with other people, so it's no wonder we all have that desire to know and be known.
Scott and I have wrestled with our attitudes this last week. My fallen side says to hell with trying. We'll see who our real friends are when we stop being the first to make contact... We'll see who comes around... Isn't that awful??? I refuse to submit to the enemy that way. That is seriously a lie from the pit of hell, literally. So, we'll keep plugging away. We'll be hospitable in an unhospitable city. We praised God and dedicated our home to Him when we first moved in almost 4 years ago. We prayed that this would be a place where ministry and friendships would happen; that this would be a place that would be peaceful, kind and accepting. A lot of people have come through our doors. We praise God for that. We are commited to keeping this ministry alive for as long as we're here - however long that may be. And while we are desperately lonely for deep friendships, we will be engaging. A light in the world. Something other than status quo. God has called us to be nothing less.
Since June 18th (the day we left for Chicago), Jeffrey took his first steps. He ate his first filet mignon. He took his first boat ride. He took his first plane ride. He saw lightening bugs for the first time. His lungs and sinuses cleared up. (No green boogies for the first time since November!) A lot has happened in 3 weeks. Hardly anyone knows it. It breaks my heart to think that he might not know what having deep friendships looks like.
I just don't know what to think about it all. It's depressing to say the least. It might sound like I'm having a pity party, but really I'm not. I know we're here for a reason. I kind of like being in this place of unfamiliar because this is when God moves. I like hanging on His perfect word knowing that nothing is in vain. We may never see how God has used us to touch the lives of others. I have my guesses as to why we were brought back here - I won't be sharing those today... or maybe ever. But I know that God has more in store for us. Whether it's here in Salem (yipes) or elsewhere will remain to be seen. I'll go (or stay) wherever He wants us. I'm just grateful that I am beginning to understand what I couldn't put words to. That emptiness just leaves more room for Jesus. I can't think of anything I'd rather be filled with.
Then she said that she felt exactly the same way. She has lived in Oregon for 26 years and STILL doesn't have any close friends.
Disclaimer: My last entry and this isn't meant to be hurtful to anyone. It is just me trying to put words to my sadness.
It's kinda funny (not in a haha way, but a peculiar, "sad clown" sort of way) living back in the Pacific NW. I couldn't put my finger on it for such a long time... What is it about this place that doesn't make it feel like home? Well... after numerous conversations with those who have moved here from other places, we all came to the same conclusion. Hospitality. Very few people here are hospitable. Sure, people have you over for a BBQ and a few laughs, but it isn't the same. In the midwest, people welcome you into their home as if you are just part of the family. They look into your eyes when you speak as if hanging on your every word. They intently listen, not to just the words you speak, but to your breath, your posture, all the stuff that happens in between words. It's hard to explain unless you've felt it, too. I grew up here and wouldn't have felt this way if it weren't for the last 15 years spent in other states. And then coming back isn't the "homecoming" I thought it would be. I'm not sure what I expected... I don't think I really expected anything other than to just do life with other people - whether in a similar life place or not. I've never had such a hard time trying to make friends! I've had to work REALLY hard. It's exhausting. Truly exhausting. And I don't understand why it has to be such a chore to walk alongside people.
The people that I've spoke to on this subject have all had the exact same experience. God created us to be in fellowship and community with other people, so it's no wonder we all have that desire to know and be known.
Scott and I have wrestled with our attitudes this last week. My fallen side says to hell with trying. We'll see who our real friends are when we stop being the first to make contact... We'll see who comes around... Isn't that awful??? I refuse to submit to the enemy that way. That is seriously a lie from the pit of hell, literally. So, we'll keep plugging away. We'll be hospitable in an unhospitable city. We praised God and dedicated our home to Him when we first moved in almost 4 years ago. We prayed that this would be a place where ministry and friendships would happen; that this would be a place that would be peaceful, kind and accepting. A lot of people have come through our doors. We praise God for that. We are commited to keeping this ministry alive for as long as we're here - however long that may be. And while we are desperately lonely for deep friendships, we will be engaging. A light in the world. Something other than status quo. God has called us to be nothing less.
Since June 18th (the day we left for Chicago), Jeffrey took his first steps. He ate his first filet mignon. He took his first boat ride. He took his first plane ride. He saw lightening bugs for the first time. His lungs and sinuses cleared up. (No green boogies for the first time since November!) A lot has happened in 3 weeks. Hardly anyone knows it. It breaks my heart to think that he might not know what having deep friendships looks like.
I just don't know what to think about it all. It's depressing to say the least. It might sound like I'm having a pity party, but really I'm not. I know we're here for a reason. I kind of like being in this place of unfamiliar because this is when God moves. I like hanging on His perfect word knowing that nothing is in vain. We may never see how God has used us to touch the lives of others. I have my guesses as to why we were brought back here - I won't be sharing those today... or maybe ever. But I know that God has more in store for us. Whether it's here in Salem (yipes) or elsewhere will remain to be seen. I'll go (or stay) wherever He wants us. I'm just grateful that I am beginning to understand what I couldn't put words to. That emptiness just leaves more room for Jesus. I can't think of anything I'd rather be filled with.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Unsettled...
I think God has us here for a season, but I think he'll be leading us away from here at some point. (Who knows when?) We just don't fit in…. Some people love it here and call it home. For us, it's just a place we've stopped on the way to "home". Ever since we've moved to Oregon (6 years ago) we haven't had any truly, deep friendships or a committed community of "family". I don't know why… It isn't for a lack of commitment, investment or effort on our part. The only way we know how to love is deeply. But for some reason, most of what we've encountered here are people who go to a certain level, and then they back off (as if it goes too deep for them); or people who just are very busy with other things and don't have time. Maybe it's us… maybe it's them. I don't know. (This isn't true in all cases. We've made a few pretty close friends, but nothing like we had in California, Montana or Illinois.) I long to know the heart of people, and I long for them to really know me. We're not interested in surface-level chit chats.
I've been really struggling for the last couple of years… Same thing – new friends, new community, new everything…. It finally dawned on me about a week before we left for Chicago. Scott and I stayed up into the wee hours of the night just talking, crying, sharing, listening…. Then everything I realized was confirmed while we were there. We connected with our family and friends, and BOOM – there was our community. We've forgotten what it was like…. And then in God's perfect timing, my old accountability partner from Montana called out of the blue last week – she said just to hear my voice. (God did that, I'm sure of it.) It just confirmed in my heart what I've been dealing with these last couple of years. It's been a lonely road.
Why we're in Oregon, I don't know. For a season... For a reason... Oregon isn't home to me. Never has been. I doubt it ever will be. We lean into God's leading. Perhaps we'll find our way home one of these days.
I've been really struggling for the last couple of years… Same thing – new friends, new community, new everything…. It finally dawned on me about a week before we left for Chicago. Scott and I stayed up into the wee hours of the night just talking, crying, sharing, listening…. Then everything I realized was confirmed while we were there. We connected with our family and friends, and BOOM – there was our community. We've forgotten what it was like…. And then in God's perfect timing, my old accountability partner from Montana called out of the blue last week – she said just to hear my voice. (God did that, I'm sure of it.) It just confirmed in my heart what I've been dealing with these last couple of years. It's been a lonely road.
Why we're in Oregon, I don't know. For a season... For a reason... Oregon isn't home to me. Never has been. I doubt it ever will be. We lean into God's leading. Perhaps we'll find our way home one of these days.
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Photo Op
Our photographer came down from Portland today to take Jeffrey’s pictures. Murphy’s Law.... My sweet, giggly, incessantly happy boy was cranky and fussy almost the whole time! Sheesh! We got some great shots, but he just pooped out right when we were taking the last family photos, so we didn’t get any of those. Kind of a bummer. Cindy is so patient...
We got some fun pics of his little bottom and him peeking over his shoulder. Oh my gosh, his chubby little tushy is so cute!!!! She’ll send us the slide show in about 2 1/2 weeks. I’m looking forward to seeing how they turned out.
He just tuckered out when Cindy left. I think he slept for over an hour. We should have called Gramma over. He always gets giggly when she’s around. (We’re actually at Gramma’s as I type this. And, true to form, they are all playing in the other room. Music to my ears!)
My friend ate catfood by accident the other day. (You know who you are!) She wrote, "p.s. can i just tell you that i accidentally ate cat food this morning? well, you know how when you’re pregnant, food starts to catch on your belly a lot? Well, this morning, I was eating oatmeal, and it was kinda dark, and I thought oatmeal fell on my belly. So, not really thinking twice about it, I picked it up with my finger and put it right back in my mouth (i can’t let food go to waste!) and as it was on my tongue I realized, this is CAT FOOD!!! I ran to the sink and started spitting, rinsing my mouth, hoping it wouldn’t reach my taste buds. Well, that pretty much ruined my appetite for food and I got instant gag reflex. Then, I couldn’t stop smelling cat food. I rinsed my shirt, that didn’t work. I used the tide pen, and I thought that helped. But as I’m driving to work, I start to smell it again, and lo and behold, my shirt STILL smells like cat food. So, I’ve pretty much tried to wash my entire shirt without taking it off, but the smell is forever in my nose now. And that’s how my morning has begun. In Jesus name, Amen."
Friggen hilarious. I wrote her back, "I completely sympathize. That’s like that time I was sneaking into the bedroom on my hands and knees in the hopes of scaring Scott, but he saw me, so I was trying to act like I was doing something else. There was a little rock (pebble size) on the carpet, so I got real close and smelled it. It wasn’t a rock. It was poo. It must have fallen off the cat’s paw as one of them jumped out of the cat box. Gross!!!!! I just looked up at Scott, who was amused at the fact that I would even smell something on the carpet, and said, ’I think that’s poo.’ Which then got huge laughter. And I’ve been made fun of ever since. God said it was good. And it was so."
And so goes my life. Funny stuff happens to me all the time.
I’m so full I’m about to ass-plode. (Gotta love Outback.) After Cindy left, we were watching Throwndown with Bobby Flay. That was the wrong thing to watch after you haven’t eaten since breakfast. BBQ ribs and Jerk Steak. Mmmmm. So... you can see the natural progression. Thus, Outback. ("Mum, mum, mum.... Mum’s the word and so the word is mum, mum. She will forever be your mum, mum...")
Everything’s great... everything’s groovy. It’s a great day....
I think I have steak coming out of my ears.
Hyacinth smells awesome. I have two plants on my dining table, along with a cute hurricane (candle holder) filled with Easter candy.
And can I just say that I LOVE my new dining table? It’s huge. I have to keep both leaves out in order to fit nicely in my current dining room, but it extends (2 leaves) to 8 feet. It can easily seat 10. Perfect! My dream table, really. It’s just beautiful, too. It took us over 2 years to find it. I feel all grown up now. (Especially after having toted around a hand-me-down table from my old boss in Billings, MT. That table was older than me. We gave it to Scott’s mom. A lot of Speed Uno rounds will be remembered.)
It would be great to move.... We tried selling the house a year ago, but after the lending fell through for the folks that wanted to buy our home, we pulled it from the market. I was 8 1/2 months pregnant. I didn’t want to move when I was 9 months... or with a brand new baby. We’re getting ready to put it back on the market - hopefully this summer. It’d be nice to have more room. Our cozy home seems awfully small with a baby, and hopefully one on the way (soon, not yet).
The picklebean calls me. He loves his mama.
Peace out.
We got some fun pics of his little bottom and him peeking over his shoulder. Oh my gosh, his chubby little tushy is so cute!!!! She’ll send us the slide show in about 2 1/2 weeks. I’m looking forward to seeing how they turned out.
He just tuckered out when Cindy left. I think he slept for over an hour. We should have called Gramma over. He always gets giggly when she’s around. (We’re actually at Gramma’s as I type this. And, true to form, they are all playing in the other room. Music to my ears!)
My friend ate catfood by accident the other day. (You know who you are!) She wrote, "p.s. can i just tell you that i accidentally ate cat food this morning? well, you know how when you’re pregnant, food starts to catch on your belly a lot? Well, this morning, I was eating oatmeal, and it was kinda dark, and I thought oatmeal fell on my belly. So, not really thinking twice about it, I picked it up with my finger and put it right back in my mouth (i can’t let food go to waste!) and as it was on my tongue I realized, this is CAT FOOD!!! I ran to the sink and started spitting, rinsing my mouth, hoping it wouldn’t reach my taste buds. Well, that pretty much ruined my appetite for food and I got instant gag reflex. Then, I couldn’t stop smelling cat food. I rinsed my shirt, that didn’t work. I used the tide pen, and I thought that helped. But as I’m driving to work, I start to smell it again, and lo and behold, my shirt STILL smells like cat food. So, I’ve pretty much tried to wash my entire shirt without taking it off, but the smell is forever in my nose now. And that’s how my morning has begun. In Jesus name, Amen."
Friggen hilarious. I wrote her back, "I completely sympathize. That’s like that time I was sneaking into the bedroom on my hands and knees in the hopes of scaring Scott, but he saw me, so I was trying to act like I was doing something else. There was a little rock (pebble size) on the carpet, so I got real close and smelled it. It wasn’t a rock. It was poo. It must have fallen off the cat’s paw as one of them jumped out of the cat box. Gross!!!!! I just looked up at Scott, who was amused at the fact that I would even smell something on the carpet, and said, ’I think that’s poo.’ Which then got huge laughter. And I’ve been made fun of ever since. God said it was good. And it was so."
And so goes my life. Funny stuff happens to me all the time.
I’m so full I’m about to ass-plode. (Gotta love Outback.) After Cindy left, we were watching Throwndown with Bobby Flay. That was the wrong thing to watch after you haven’t eaten since breakfast. BBQ ribs and Jerk Steak. Mmmmm. So... you can see the natural progression. Thus, Outback. ("Mum, mum, mum.... Mum’s the word and so the word is mum, mum. She will forever be your mum, mum...")
Everything’s great... everything’s groovy. It’s a great day....
I think I have steak coming out of my ears.
Hyacinth smells awesome. I have two plants on my dining table, along with a cute hurricane (candle holder) filled with Easter candy.
And can I just say that I LOVE my new dining table? It’s huge. I have to keep both leaves out in order to fit nicely in my current dining room, but it extends (2 leaves) to 8 feet. It can easily seat 10. Perfect! My dream table, really. It’s just beautiful, too. It took us over 2 years to find it. I feel all grown up now. (Especially after having toted around a hand-me-down table from my old boss in Billings, MT. That table was older than me. We gave it to Scott’s mom. A lot of Speed Uno rounds will be remembered.)
It would be great to move.... We tried selling the house a year ago, but after the lending fell through for the folks that wanted to buy our home, we pulled it from the market. I was 8 1/2 months pregnant. I didn’t want to move when I was 9 months... or with a brand new baby. We’re getting ready to put it back on the market - hopefully this summer. It’d be nice to have more room. Our cozy home seems awfully small with a baby, and hopefully one on the way (soon, not yet).
The picklebean calls me. He loves his mama.
Peace out.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
A Father to the Fatherless...
Yesterday my heart broke a little. Logan (one of my coworkers) came to our staff meeting with the news that a friend of his (Dan) was diagnosed with a heart aneurysm. This is bad. This means that any amount of stress could kill him. What do you do with that?? He’s about 22, maybe 23, years old, with an 8-month old baby at home. Dan is a big, burly biker dude and tattoos all over, driven to tears by fear of what might come. Logan prayed for him over the phone that morning. We prayed for him at our prayer tables after staff coffee.
I was so touched. I couldn’t help but think of that sweet little baby and the possibility of not ever knowing her daddy. My heart just broke for her. I started to pray, and I was overwhelmed by tears - out of nowhere. I could hardly speak. I prayed for God to intervene. I prayed that God wouldn’t take her daddy from her. Coming from experience, I know how hard it is to go through life without a father. (I lost mine to cancer when I was 8 years old.)
And I got to thinking about Jeffrey. He’s 8 months old. The same age. What would it be like if something happened to Scott? How would I teach Jeffrey who his father is? How would I explain just how much his daddy loved him? Would he ever really know?
After staff coffee, I went to visit the PickleBean. I just hugged him and told him I loved him. I needed that moment. And it was as if he knew I needed it. Scott took him to give him a hug and Jeffrey just reached for me. He hardly ever does that. (He loves to be in his daddy’s arms.)
I’m so grateful for my life and for my family. I’m grateful for our health. I’m grateful for the time that we’ve been given to enjoy each other. But most of all, I’m grateful for a God who is our Father when we don’t have a father. What an amazing gift.
Life is so fleeting. You never know when something might pop up, or when your time here is over. I never take this for granted. I hope you don’t either.
If you think about it, please pray for Dan, his family, and for his little baby.
I was so touched. I couldn’t help but think of that sweet little baby and the possibility of not ever knowing her daddy. My heart just broke for her. I started to pray, and I was overwhelmed by tears - out of nowhere. I could hardly speak. I prayed for God to intervene. I prayed that God wouldn’t take her daddy from her. Coming from experience, I know how hard it is to go through life without a father. (I lost mine to cancer when I was 8 years old.)
And I got to thinking about Jeffrey. He’s 8 months old. The same age. What would it be like if something happened to Scott? How would I teach Jeffrey who his father is? How would I explain just how much his daddy loved him? Would he ever really know?
After staff coffee, I went to visit the PickleBean. I just hugged him and told him I loved him. I needed that moment. And it was as if he knew I needed it. Scott took him to give him a hug and Jeffrey just reached for me. He hardly ever does that. (He loves to be in his daddy’s arms.)
I’m so grateful for my life and for my family. I’m grateful for our health. I’m grateful for the time that we’ve been given to enjoy each other. But most of all, I’m grateful for a God who is our Father when we don’t have a father. What an amazing gift.
Life is so fleeting. You never know when something might pop up, or when your time here is over. I never take this for granted. I hope you don’t either.
If you think about it, please pray for Dan, his family, and for his little baby.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
My Cat is Stalking Me
You would think that for someone who rarely gets more than 5 hours of sleep at night (see, God created nursing babies for working moms) that I would covet those nights when the baby is sleeping like a ... well... baby. I’ve been awake for over an hour. It’s three in the morning. God isn’t even awake at this time of day... night... morning... whatever...
I move and my cat watches me. It’s a little nerve wracking. I’m typing in the dark and I can hear her licking herself in the corner.
The Post Office came out with Disney stamps. Super cute. I’m planning a baby shower for a friend (2 girls already, but a boy on the way - finally some testosterone in that family!). I dragged Scott on some errands yesterday, one of which was standing in the longest line ever at the Post Office just to get the Disney stamps. He said, "They have a machine...." Yes, they do have a machine, but they were only selling the "Forever" stamps with the Liberty Bell on them. So not cute. So I chose to stand in line. Scott said, "Really? Just for stamps?" I replied, "Yes, because that is the kind of friend I am." He asked, "What kind of friend is that?" I answered, "A dedicated, loyal, serving, willing-to-stand-in-super-long-lines-at-the-Post-Office kind of friend." He just smiled and said, "Oh." The line went pretty quick. There was a guy from our church who came in about 12 people behind us. Apparently, he’s a video game addict. It’s causing all kinds of domestic problems. I think there is a STEPs group for that.
I taught Jeffrey how to clap. It was a little slow going, but he loves the sound, so I made up a little song for him, which I would love to sing for you right now. It just goes, "We clap when we’re happy..." (It isn’t nearly as melodic as Scott’s song "A wiggle bean does what a wiggle bean does".) Back to clapping. Jeffrey claps ALL the time now. It is SO cute. His little chubby hands coming together makes the cutest little sound. It doesn’t sound quite like a clap yet, but it brings joy to my heart and I’m quite certain that Heaven’s angels rejoice when they hear it, too.
I chopped all my hair off. Jeffrey likes to pull it...so it just keeps getting shorter until there is nothing left to pull. I LOVE it. Shaved about 20 minutes off morning prep (primp) time. It’s sassy and a bit sexy. Scott says, "See? This is how it starts..." He’s afraid that I will never grow it long again. We’ll see.
All I see is the silhouette of my cat staring at me in the corner. Not even her eyes are glowing. Seriously. It’s freaking me out.
Cindy (www.soulprintsphotography.com) is coming to photograph Jeffrey on Saturday. Can I just say that, objectively, he is a damn cute baby? He looks just like Scott, but I think he inherited the "cute factor" from me. He had to. Have you see Scott??? (haha, just jokes Love. You’re pretty cute, too, when you’re not too busy being a poophead.)
"A Nameless Person" told me she might have a new man in her life. She is being very strategic. It’s cracking me up. "Oh... I really don’t have a clue about the [something that must remain nameless]. Could you come over and pre-inspect for me?" Damsel in distress. Good tactic. (Kudos and high five to "Nameless Person"!)
"One word, five letters" I was told. B-O-O-N-S. I was thinking, gee... shouldn’t that be one word, six letters? B-O-O-N-E-S. I was wrong. And why? Because I have P-T-S-D. I spent way too much time in Portland. (Lower Boones Ferry Road. Not Boons as in Friday night beers.) Damn my psychological disorder! I love beer. I hate Portland. There ya go.
I’m going to Chicago for an HR conference in June. We’re making a vacation out of it. And dragging my mother in law with us. There was a snafu with the hotel reservations. She has been waffling, so I just reserved my own hotel room (for Scott and the baby and me). She waited too long to tell us, and the hotel rooms that were booked for the event have ALL been filled. That’s like over 3000 rooms. No joke. So... we decided that we’d just change our reservation for a room with two beds. Done. No big deal. I don’t mind sharing my room for 6 nights. Well.... I went to the hotel’s website (Chicago City Center) and their doubles are literally that; two doubles. As in two double beds. As in not much bigger than a twin. As in Santa Fe flashback. (Suddenly, I smell burning poo....) So, I guess we’ll have to venture out and find a room outside of the blocked rooms. Which means we’ll be paying about twice as much. Damn. Oh well. The church was paying for my room (since my time there is work related), so we’ll just pay the difference. It’s all good.
Speaking of which, it will be nice to be in Chicago again. This time, it will be summer and perhaps, maybe just maybe, I’ll actually get to see Chicago without being plummeted by rain. And perhaps we will visit our homeless friend who falls asleep in his riblets. That would be a treat.
I’m looking forward to visiting Scott’s dad - Richard, aka Dick. (There’s a really funny story about who knows Dick, but... it’s a family thing and I just don’t have the time to explain.) It will be the first time the PickleBean gets to meet his one and only grandpa! We’re thrilled!
So it sucks that the dollar is worth less than the Canadian dollar. So much for cheap trips to Whistler. Silly Americans.
I love jelly beans.
Anyone want a cat? (She finally left... I hear her in the kitchen crunching on her food...)
My nostril is whistling. That’s hilarious.
I’m a little nervous about this week’s weigh-in. (Damn... The cat is back. Now she wants attention. She is sitting at my feet meowing and purring.) The good news is that 2 weeks ago (when I weighed in for the first time since August) I was 10 pounds lighter than before I got pregnant with the PickleBean. I didn’t try much that week.... Change is difficult right now. But somehow by the grace of God, I lost 3.2 pounds the first week. Weird. (I chalk it up to loss of water, and/or serious fiber intake. I pooed a LOT that week.) We’ll see how this week goes. (Whoa! The cat just jumped in my lap.) Speaking of poo... I’ll be right back.
Ah. Clarity of thought.
Ya know, it’s never good when a sentence starts, "I’m no proctologist, but...."
Do you watch The Soup on E? I love the segment "Oprah’s vajay-jay." "Vajay-jay" has crept into our daily lives. I can’t even go to Jamba Juice without cracking a smile. (We actually call that Va-jamba Juice.) Oh, the humanity!
Great. Now the other cat is in here, too. Can I not have some peace in this place?
St. Patty’s Day is Monday. I love that day. All people everywhere should celebrate by getting schnockered. Yea, beer!
I was praying tonight (last night... this morning)... It’s hard to explain what all that entailed, but I’ve been pondering where something came from. What does it mean when you pray that you want to be a different kind of person - other than what you are? The oddity to me is that I work in a church. I’m not built for ministry the way, say, a pastor is built for ministry. My ministry is the health of the staff - the people doing the ministry. I think recently I’ve been comparing myself to the calling of others, and how that plays out for them in their prayer life - their reading, their contemplation of the things of God, etc. It’s weird because I’m totally content with my gifts and the way God has formed me (and continues to form me... I don’t want to sound as though I’m stagnant). But I think coming from a corporate environment, I’ve been slightly tainted by secular things. I wish I were more prayerful and disciplined. I can tell that many things have already been changing. (I’m much more introspective, slow to anger, slow to speak.... Stop laughing, it’s true.) But I think I compare myself to others who get to abide in God’s word all day, every day. I mean, 75% of our staff are preparing sermons and biblical lessons, so they are spending a great deal of time in Scripture. Much more time that I could possibly spend. So I really don’t know what I wish for that, other than to say that I long to know God more. I love being with Him. I love listening to Him. I love to imagine being next to Jesus as I go through my day.
The weekend that Jeffrey got dedicated, Steve delivered a powerful sermon. (It was about "Talking Taxi".) My mom (who is so totally not saved) cried through the whole thing (I’m told - she was sitting behind me, so I didn’t see her). Something got her. My prayer for her since long ago has been that God would not allow her to die until she accepted Jesus into her heart. Well... I cannot even count the ways that God has revealed Himself to her, or how many times He has intervened. I know the Holy Spirit is working on her. She may very well be the most callused person I know. (Honestly, I think fear is driving her. I think in her heart of hearts she knows that she is going to hell, but she is so afraid of trusting (i.e., faith) that she is willing to wager eternity.) I would have loved to have been in her head that night while she was alone in bed. I can only imagine the thoughts she was wrestling with. I continue to pray for her salvation (and everyone in my family) and hope that she falls before the throne of God on this world before it’s too late.
I planted hyacinth by the door. That smells loverly every day when I get home from work.
I’m so grateful for my life. I have an amazing, devoted husband, a gorgeous baby boy, and a peaceful home to live in. I’ve been given a wonderful job, working with such spectacular, Godly people. I have a "Willage" of friends (yes, that’s a "w", folks - think Asian accent), who really are an extension of family. And Jesus loves me for no other reason than just because. I don’t get it, but I’m humbled and grateful.
And I’ll end with this.... I really am grateful for my friends. I was thinking about how different and similar life has been here in Salem compared to Billings. I have some wonderful friends back in Montana. The only bummer is that few were Christians (and I can tell that over time, those friendships are fading because we find little in common. They live for the world. I live for Jesus.). Here, we have a growing web of comrades - people willing to battle with us. It’s a beautiful thing. It’s beautiful to share in the joys and suffering of life together. (We had a game night the night Jeffrey was dedicated, and pretty much all of our willage came... Imagine that! The Willage all squeezed into our tiny little home that just 3 years ago we dedicated to God’s work. We were missing Jeff and Kara (new Willage family), but the Willage was in full force that night.) I was nursing Jeffrey in his room, listening to our friends chatting and playing Cranium in the other room. It was music to my soul. Except for the part where Trina and Logan had adverse reactions to cat hair. Logan broke out in hives. So their spouses had to rescue them.
See??? It all comes back to the cats.
Thank you and good morning.
I move and my cat watches me. It’s a little nerve wracking. I’m typing in the dark and I can hear her licking herself in the corner.
The Post Office came out with Disney stamps. Super cute. I’m planning a baby shower for a friend (2 girls already, but a boy on the way - finally some testosterone in that family!). I dragged Scott on some errands yesterday, one of which was standing in the longest line ever at the Post Office just to get the Disney stamps. He said, "They have a machine...." Yes, they do have a machine, but they were only selling the "Forever" stamps with the Liberty Bell on them. So not cute. So I chose to stand in line. Scott said, "Really? Just for stamps?" I replied, "Yes, because that is the kind of friend I am." He asked, "What kind of friend is that?" I answered, "A dedicated, loyal, serving, willing-to-stand-in-super-long-lines-at-the-Post-Office kind of friend." He just smiled and said, "Oh." The line went pretty quick. There was a guy from our church who came in about 12 people behind us. Apparently, he’s a video game addict. It’s causing all kinds of domestic problems. I think there is a STEPs group for that.
I taught Jeffrey how to clap. It was a little slow going, but he loves the sound, so I made up a little song for him, which I would love to sing for you right now. It just goes, "We clap when we’re happy..." (It isn’t nearly as melodic as Scott’s song "A wiggle bean does what a wiggle bean does".) Back to clapping. Jeffrey claps ALL the time now. It is SO cute. His little chubby hands coming together makes the cutest little sound. It doesn’t sound quite like a clap yet, but it brings joy to my heart and I’m quite certain that Heaven’s angels rejoice when they hear it, too.
I chopped all my hair off. Jeffrey likes to pull it...so it just keeps getting shorter until there is nothing left to pull. I LOVE it. Shaved about 20 minutes off morning prep (primp) time. It’s sassy and a bit sexy. Scott says, "See? This is how it starts..." He’s afraid that I will never grow it long again. We’ll see.
All I see is the silhouette of my cat staring at me in the corner. Not even her eyes are glowing. Seriously. It’s freaking me out.
Cindy (www.soulprintsphotography.com) is coming to photograph Jeffrey on Saturday. Can I just say that, objectively, he is a damn cute baby? He looks just like Scott, but I think he inherited the "cute factor" from me. He had to. Have you see Scott??? (haha, just jokes Love. You’re pretty cute, too, when you’re not too busy being a poophead.)
"A Nameless Person" told me she might have a new man in her life. She is being very strategic. It’s cracking me up. "Oh... I really don’t have a clue about the [something that must remain nameless]. Could you come over and pre-inspect for me?" Damsel in distress. Good tactic. (Kudos and high five to "Nameless Person"!)
"One word, five letters" I was told. B-O-O-N-S. I was thinking, gee... shouldn’t that be one word, six letters? B-O-O-N-E-S. I was wrong. And why? Because I have P-T-S-D. I spent way too much time in Portland. (Lower Boones Ferry Road. Not Boons as in Friday night beers.) Damn my psychological disorder! I love beer. I hate Portland. There ya go.
I’m going to Chicago for an HR conference in June. We’re making a vacation out of it. And dragging my mother in law with us. There was a snafu with the hotel reservations. She has been waffling, so I just reserved my own hotel room (for Scott and the baby and me). She waited too long to tell us, and the hotel rooms that were booked for the event have ALL been filled. That’s like over 3000 rooms. No joke. So... we decided that we’d just change our reservation for a room with two beds. Done. No big deal. I don’t mind sharing my room for 6 nights. Well.... I went to the hotel’s website (Chicago City Center) and their doubles are literally that; two doubles. As in two double beds. As in not much bigger than a twin. As in Santa Fe flashback. (Suddenly, I smell burning poo....) So, I guess we’ll have to venture out and find a room outside of the blocked rooms. Which means we’ll be paying about twice as much. Damn. Oh well. The church was paying for my room (since my time there is work related), so we’ll just pay the difference. It’s all good.
Speaking of which, it will be nice to be in Chicago again. This time, it will be summer and perhaps, maybe just maybe, I’ll actually get to see Chicago without being plummeted by rain. And perhaps we will visit our homeless friend who falls asleep in his riblets. That would be a treat.
I’m looking forward to visiting Scott’s dad - Richard, aka Dick. (There’s a really funny story about who knows Dick, but... it’s a family thing and I just don’t have the time to explain.) It will be the first time the PickleBean gets to meet his one and only grandpa! We’re thrilled!
So it sucks that the dollar is worth less than the Canadian dollar. So much for cheap trips to Whistler. Silly Americans.
I love jelly beans.
Anyone want a cat? (She finally left... I hear her in the kitchen crunching on her food...)
My nostril is whistling. That’s hilarious.
I’m a little nervous about this week’s weigh-in. (Damn... The cat is back. Now she wants attention. She is sitting at my feet meowing and purring.) The good news is that 2 weeks ago (when I weighed in for the first time since August) I was 10 pounds lighter than before I got pregnant with the PickleBean. I didn’t try much that week.... Change is difficult right now. But somehow by the grace of God, I lost 3.2 pounds the first week. Weird. (I chalk it up to loss of water, and/or serious fiber intake. I pooed a LOT that week.) We’ll see how this week goes. (Whoa! The cat just jumped in my lap.) Speaking of poo... I’ll be right back.
Ah. Clarity of thought.
Ya know, it’s never good when a sentence starts, "I’m no proctologist, but...."
Do you watch The Soup on E? I love the segment "Oprah’s vajay-jay." "Vajay-jay" has crept into our daily lives. I can’t even go to Jamba Juice without cracking a smile. (We actually call that Va-jamba Juice.) Oh, the humanity!
Great. Now the other cat is in here, too. Can I not have some peace in this place?
St. Patty’s Day is Monday. I love that day. All people everywhere should celebrate by getting schnockered. Yea, beer!
I was praying tonight (last night... this morning)... It’s hard to explain what all that entailed, but I’ve been pondering where something came from. What does it mean when you pray that you want to be a different kind of person - other than what you are? The oddity to me is that I work in a church. I’m not built for ministry the way, say, a pastor is built for ministry. My ministry is the health of the staff - the people doing the ministry. I think recently I’ve been comparing myself to the calling of others, and how that plays out for them in their prayer life - their reading, their contemplation of the things of God, etc. It’s weird because I’m totally content with my gifts and the way God has formed me (and continues to form me... I don’t want to sound as though I’m stagnant). But I think coming from a corporate environment, I’ve been slightly tainted by secular things. I wish I were more prayerful and disciplined. I can tell that many things have already been changing. (I’m much more introspective, slow to anger, slow to speak.... Stop laughing, it’s true.) But I think I compare myself to others who get to abide in God’s word all day, every day. I mean, 75% of our staff are preparing sermons and biblical lessons, so they are spending a great deal of time in Scripture. Much more time that I could possibly spend. So I really don’t know what I wish for that, other than to say that I long to know God more. I love being with Him. I love listening to Him. I love to imagine being next to Jesus as I go through my day.
The weekend that Jeffrey got dedicated, Steve delivered a powerful sermon. (It was about "Talking Taxi".) My mom (who is so totally not saved) cried through the whole thing (I’m told - she was sitting behind me, so I didn’t see her). Something got her. My prayer for her since long ago has been that God would not allow her to die until she accepted Jesus into her heart. Well... I cannot even count the ways that God has revealed Himself to her, or how many times He has intervened. I know the Holy Spirit is working on her. She may very well be the most callused person I know. (Honestly, I think fear is driving her. I think in her heart of hearts she knows that she is going to hell, but she is so afraid of trusting (i.e., faith) that she is willing to wager eternity.) I would have loved to have been in her head that night while she was alone in bed. I can only imagine the thoughts she was wrestling with. I continue to pray for her salvation (and everyone in my family) and hope that she falls before the throne of God on this world before it’s too late.
I planted hyacinth by the door. That smells loverly every day when I get home from work.
I’m so grateful for my life. I have an amazing, devoted husband, a gorgeous baby boy, and a peaceful home to live in. I’ve been given a wonderful job, working with such spectacular, Godly people. I have a "Willage" of friends (yes, that’s a "w", folks - think Asian accent), who really are an extension of family. And Jesus loves me for no other reason than just because. I don’t get it, but I’m humbled and grateful.
And I’ll end with this.... I really am grateful for my friends. I was thinking about how different and similar life has been here in Salem compared to Billings. I have some wonderful friends back in Montana. The only bummer is that few were Christians (and I can tell that over time, those friendships are fading because we find little in common. They live for the world. I live for Jesus.). Here, we have a growing web of comrades - people willing to battle with us. It’s a beautiful thing. It’s beautiful to share in the joys and suffering of life together. (We had a game night the night Jeffrey was dedicated, and pretty much all of our willage came... Imagine that! The Willage all squeezed into our tiny little home that just 3 years ago we dedicated to God’s work. We were missing Jeff and Kara (new Willage family), but the Willage was in full force that night.) I was nursing Jeffrey in his room, listening to our friends chatting and playing Cranium in the other room. It was music to my soul. Except for the part where Trina and Logan had adverse reactions to cat hair. Logan broke out in hives. So their spouses had to rescue them.
See??? It all comes back to the cats.
Thank you and good morning.
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