Slice Slewis?

Our house may not get redecorated every month in celebration of each upcoming holiday, but Fashionista makes sure Slewis, the Betta fish, is not denied any grandeur. Had I thought to take the picture at the beginning of the month, there'd be less scum- so please forgive that and take a moment to enjoy the Valentine theme of this fish home.


Tomorrow Fash will make the changeover to green shamrock beads in the bottom with a smiling leprechaun dancing about in the waters. Who knows, maybe she'll indulge Slewis a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow painted on the side of the bowl.


The thing is: no matter how good Slewis (named after C.S. Lewis) has it, he always seems one half of a breath- from death. We have no idea what he lives on. The food beads Fash drops in there, sink to the bottom and never appear to have even a nibble taken out of them. Slewis just clings by a lip to one, tiny air bubble- and hangs vertical to the vase.


It's really depressing. Just today, driving home from church, Fash says to me, "Mom, I just want to kill Slewis. I don't know how he stays alive. He depresses me."


And I thought: so flush him. Cut him in half with a pair of scissors like Aunt A. tried to do to Aunt B.'s pet goldfish one time, when we were little kids.


But somehow it doesn't seem right to flush or slice Slewis. It feels wrong. Somehow.

?

When She Was Bad, She Was Horrid

There was a little girl. Who had a little curl. Right in the middle of her forehead. When she was good. She was very, very good. But when she was bad, she was horrid.

My tagline might read: "Serving up thoughts with a twist of humor in a squeeze of time", but I'm about to serve you some thoughts, turned to words, that fried to a crisp and stuck to the pan, ones that even if I tried to add the spice of humor to them, would taste like the burned up failure that they are.

The little girl, with the little curl matured and married a hunk. They grew in the Christian faith- together- reading God's word, developing friendships with other believers and praying that the Lord would show them The Way. The baggage each brought to the family they created was heavy and busting at the seams. It would take a lot of grace and many decades to unpack.

Even after 23 years of complete commitment and miraculous love, it was not uncommon for a scenario such as this to unfold:

(Driving home from a seminar meant to bring attendees financial peace.)

He: You're quiet.

She: I'm trying to stay out of trouble. I'm just enjoying being with you. Here in the car. I talk too much. You take a turn.

He: (long pause) I was thinking about {Plan A}, I want it to work out, but...

She: (stopping him dead in his sentence) What do you mean "But."? Do you mean {Plan A} might not be an option? Because we agreed on {Plan A}, we are all counting on {Plan A} working out.

He: We agreed to check into other options.

She: We did check into other options. ( kickin' it up a notch in volume) I'm feelin' a little pressure here. {Plan A} is happenin'!

He: You're feeling pressure? I have the whole weight of the entire situation on my shoulders. Not to mention this OTHER thing!

She: ( passing the neighbor's house, which recently needed a pricey repair) Well! I certainly hope we don't still live in our house when all the stuff breaks!!

(they pull into the garage, go into the house, hang up their coats, get ready for bed...)

He: Where did that come from?! We aren't even talking about the house! What makes you think all the stuff is going to break?!?

She: That stuff is old and I don't want to live in this house the rest of our lives!!!

He: What's wrong with our house?

She: Nothing is wrong with our house!!!! I don't want to move out of our house!!! I just don't want to live in it the rest of our lives and I hope the stuff doesn't break while we are living in it!!!! And {Plan A} better be happening!!!!!!!!!!! AND I NEED to keep the OTHER thing!

He: (silence) (He goes to bed)

She: (crying) (She sits up all night, on the couch, trying to figure it out)

He is perplexed. He loves her. He spends most of his time trying to do what is best for her, to care for her, to protect her, to provide for her and the family. And why does she think all the stuff is going to break?

She loves him. She is mad. At herself. She didn't listen. She jumped to conclusions- again. {Plan A} scares her. It's taken weeks to talk herself into believing {Plan A} will work out just fine. Not following through with {Plan A} scares her. She blames the whole thing on Dave Ramsey. (But of course it isn't his fault)

This girl, her curl long turned gray (so she colors it), knows this verse well (requiring her children to memorize it long ago):

"Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen." Ephesians 4:29

And once she gave a talk to a roomful of women using this verse as the thesis:

"Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus."

Hypocrite?

No.

Just a good, good girl, who lost this battle to horrid.

It is true. We need a Savior.

So thankful to be saved by grace through faith in Christ- alone,

What is Worth the Lifetime it Takes to Get it?

"Goodness, gracious, great balls of fire!"-

Many years ago, I attended a wedding. I may have even been in the wedding- can't remember. After a beautiful, God-honoring ceremony, my lovely and smart, very next of kin and her fun-lovin' husband, who both know and love the Lord Jesus, surprised us all by be-bopping down the aisle and out the church door, to this song that topped the charts in 1957, during the recession at their wedding. Not knowing whether to stand and shimmy or pray fervently for God to forgive this saved soul's love induced, temporary insanity, I peeped out from under the hair of my slightly bowed head, toes a tapping and trying to keep my shoulders from swaying to the beat, and looked around. Yes, pure shock froze the faces of family and friends and my Presbyterian minister uncle appeared to have fallen from the pew. Loved ones stood, row by row, at the usher's nod for dismissal. A few boogied, the rest filed out a little stunned to:

"You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain...Too much love drives a man insane! You broke my will...oh what a thrill....Goodness, gracious, great balls of fire!"

I asked myself, "On a scale from 1 to 10, how okay is this?"

Here, I pick on my well-loved relative, but only because examples of the interesting choices I've made in my life might be too despicable to share. The point is: we followers of Jesus Christ are in process. It's called sanctification and it begins the moment we believe and ends with our last breath. It's our journey of becoming holy. Becoming more like God. It has nothing to do with being saved; that happens by grace through faith in Christ alone. (Ephesians 2:8) Salvation is an unmerited, undeserved gift from the Father, God, the one who knit each one of us together in our mother's womb. (Psalm 139:13) Sanctification is what happens to us when we take hold of the gift.

Chugging along this two-track of potholes, trying to dodge the roadkill, on my way to victory, I'm thankful for the fuel that God keeps providing: a will to look into his word, understanding that comes by his help- the Holy Spirit, friends and family in real time and blog time, who know and love the author of The Book. Christian radio. Christian authors. Church.

I often think about what it means to be in the world, but not of it- what that really looks like and if it is even truly possible. I've decided it is possible, if not wholly, then in part- bit by bit, through the process of sanctification that comes by the work of the Holy Spirit in the heart of the believer. These words from Joshua Harris, in his new book, Dug Down Deep (page 187), helped me sort out a few thoughts on this subject:

"When the Holy Spirit is working in our lives, there will be a dynamic quality of holiness, evangelistic boldness, and an otherworldly willingness to play the role of a servant to others. I'm not arguing against the supernatural and spectacular. But I think we need to broaden our definition of both. The truth is that there is no such thing as normal or nonsupernatural Christian living. Every day of faith is a day of the supernatural work of the Spirit in our lives. Every time we're filled with love for God, every time we become aware of how glorious Jesus is, every time we read God's Word and understand and believe it, every time we choose to obey God and turn away from sin, every time we selflessly use our abilities to serve others- the Holy Spirit is powerfully working in us."

Today I had a little time to myself, so I swirled some cream and honey into my uniquely Charleston mug of half caff and headed downstairs to the computer. I clicked straight to my favorite place- Blogaritaville and scrolled my Google FriendConnect reading list down until I found "Today is Tuesday, You Know What That Means". Every Tuesday, My ADHD Me has a special guest on her blog, "Monkey's Are Funny". If you want to know how I got my thrills in the good old days, when I was about 12, click on over there and enjoy the clip. I cranked it up, and whooped and hollered every word along with my old favorite t.v. show star. Dad and I used to love watching her out-sing Sonny, in her skimpy sequined costumes, as she licked her top teeth (without parting her shiny, red lips) and tossed her miles of black hair behind her with a flick of her foot-long, painted nails. My mom would sometimes disgustedly blurt to my dad, "Honey!", if the outfit was too lacking in material. I think that meant, "turn that show off", but we just couldn't do it. She was too captivating. I re-played the clip about five times. The memories make me chuckle! Turns out my good old t.v. idol was a pretty good example- of something...

My dear blog friend, My ADHD Me had some awfully nice things to say about me today in her post that went with that special guest clip. Thank you!! I love My ADHD Me- she is such a fun blog friend! Her kind words also convicted me to shed a little light on the truth of the matter.

This morning I.T. could not find a white undershirt. He has several. Now where on earth do you suppose they are? I don't know either. All I know is my 23 year old sofa gets no respect- everybody dumping laundry all over her, looking for their lost t-shirts! Sheesh.

Due to an over expenditure at the health food store, on a variety of wheat-free flours, egg replacer and xanthum gum, in an attempt to bake gluten-free bread, because this is central to my newest craze of solving all of our family's gut issues- this is all the food we have in the house right now. So, with these: a plastic tub of arugula (rotting because I didn't use it soon enough), a bowl of romaine, a bag of spinach, half a red pepper, 3/4 of a cucumber and a block of thawing cream cheese (that I now find should never have been frozen- since freezing it turns it to mush)- with these ingredients, I must design something that will resemble- dinner. Good thing I.T. is not home tonight for that.

Finally, I must tell you, I want what I want and I want it when I want it. Putting others before myself does not come naturally for me, maybe with the exception of my kids- I seemed to tend to their needs instinctively. But they're all grown and mostly gone now. I'm working hard (and sometimes hardly working) on putting I.T.'s needs before my own. I want to do it- to show him that respect and that kind of love. But I have to stop myself dead in my demanding desires and focus on focusing on him. That is why I cited "being a wife" as one domestic skill I wish I could improve (Question #3 from Random Dozen, Feb. 10th).

Every time I am filled with love for God, every time I am aware of how glorious Jesus is, every time I read God's word, understand it and believe it, every time I obey God and turn from sin and every time I put my selfish desires aside to serve another, I prove the reality of the indwelling Holy Spirit working powerfully- sanctifying me. The process will take a lifetime, but nothing I desire compares to being made in the likeness of Jesus.


Hope with me now- that I will be able to convice I.T. that salad and gluten-free bread is the new Breakfast of Champions,

On the Outside Looking In

I'm on the outside looking in.

I don't know if it's because we have no will -power over television in this family or because we are just so blasted tight fisted with our cash or a combination of the two, but for at least a year now we haven't watched more than a handful of hours worth of t.v. No cable. No Dish. Only 3/4 of a rabbit ear left on the table-topper antenna unit, though we do have tin foil wrapped around the stubs and fanned out into foil elephant ears, with the whole thing placed near the slider door to the backyard- just in case that might gain us an ounce of reception.

What we do have is a box. An HDtv box- I think.

In a perfect world, if this box is turned on, while our television is on, we should be able to watch at least four or five channels of news and stories with high def clarity. But we live in a fallen world with broken boxes and a distorted view of what is going on out there. Or in my case, no view.

Our particular HDtv box is pretty special. Most of the time it delivers no picture whatsoever. I'm so glad I only paid $10 for this thing. But every once in a great while, someone in this family will get the urge to twist some tin foil and turn knobs in hopes of watching a little television. And every once in a great while, the box will do a little dance and kick out a clear picture of something. For example: on the evening of the season premiere of LOST, I merely flipped on the tube and bingo, there it was, clear as day- that amazingly complicated show with more twists and turns than our tin foil rabbit ears. I did watch it and I was LOST. So I guess I got it.

But. Of course when we want to watch something worthwhile, like, say, the Olympics! The box feigns death.

So. I'm livin' a slice of what it feels like to be in the world, but not of it. What on earth am I doing if I'm not watching the Olympics, you ask? Intermittent with sulking and trying to be content, I am sitting by a roaring fire every night reading So Long, Insecurity- You've Been a Bad Friend to Us by Beth Moore, Dug Down Deep by Joshua Harris and Her Mother's Hope (preview copy) by Francine Rivers. I'm finding out that: it's a little hard to bid ado to Insecurity; what I believe about the One who loves me so much he would die for me really matters; and it really is true, I have a pretty wonderful life even without television.

I think I'm gonna make it.

Random Dozen- for the apron

Linda, at 2nd Cup of Coffee hosts this blog meme (rhymes with dream). If you click on her blog title, you'll be transported to her page where many other bloggers have linked up for this getting to know you party.

1. Are you pleasant when you're ill, or are you a grumpy, fussy patient?

Pleasant when I'm ill? Who is pleasant when she's ill? I smell when I am ill, I'm pretty sure it isn't pleasant. I'm fussy when I'm ill or not ill. Grumpy- I try to leave him out of it.

2. When you find out that school is canceled (due to inclement weather) what is your gut reaction?

Even though we are home schooled over here, if we suspect the public and private schoolers are having a snow day, because we see the neighbors building snowmen during lunchtime (because we might be too busy multiplying polynomials before that time or sleeping in) THEN we declare "SNOW DAY"!! IF we haven't taken too much time off sleeping in on the other visibly not snow days.

3. What is one domestic skill you wish you could improve?

Being a wife.

4. Do you decorate your home for Valentine's Day?

If you call putting an empty, heart shaped, cardboard box (where six chocolates lived ten years ago) up on a shelf, on it's edge, facing the room- decorating for Valentine's Day, then yes, yes I do.

5. What song is on your mind today?

"Who are you...oo...oo oo..oo" (in honor of the grandpa Who's we saw on Sunday night, and this meme)

6. Do you prefer contemporary movies or classic?

I prefer movies based on true stories- mostly. Contemporary or classic. You know, like The Birds. I'm kidding! I really like movies based on true stories, especially if they have a good moral to the story....know what I mean? Julie and Julia- based on true story, moral is: if at first you don't succeed, try, try again. And whatever you do- blog it.

7. How well do you "compartmentalize" your feelings? For example, how well can you put aside a really trying moment to deal with the immediate situation which is not related to the trying moment, e.g., putting aside a tiff with your spouse in order to finish wallpapering a room.

My "feelings" do not have compartments. They all bang around together in my pinball head, creating sparks of confusion and dread. What can I say, Dr. Seuss just showed up. Let's break this question down. Trying moments: I create one after the other. Tiffs with my spouse: see answer to question #3. Wallpapering a room: not on your life, baby.

8. What is the first thing that attracted you to your spouse? (Or if you're single, to your best friend.)

He was what we used to call "a total hunk". For those of you born after 1975- this meant he was "a hottie". Anyway, that was probably the first thing. Later I found out he was a really smart guy, who could do math problems like there was no tomorrow. Strangely, I did find that attractive. Finally though, I found him to be a guy who loved the Lord, Jesus Christ and yearned to follow in the Truth of His word.

9. When was the last time your heart raced?

A few years back I saw a Dr. for this very thing. It seems I had been eating too much chocolate while drinking too much coffee- every day.

10. What are your memories of Valentine's Day at school?

I shared this in a comment earlier this week. In grade school we decorated shoeboxes, so classmates could put valentines inside through a slit in the top. At the party, on the Friday closest to Valentine's Day, we opened the box and read all the Valentines. I distinctly remember not receiving a valentine from a certain cute boy in my third grade class and feeling depressed. Other than that, my memories are good. Like the Valentine's Day party I hosted at our house, for our young kids, when we invited a bunch of home educating families that lived in or near our neighborhood. We had games and everything. It was a blast!

11. If you were going to receive candy for Valentine's Day, which would you prefer?

Dove chocolates. And a big box of Good N Plenty.

12. Red or pink?

In high school, I wore a lot of pink. I must have liked pink. Now- I don't care for pink. Maybe it's because my daughter dislikes it so much. If we're talking roses- not red. Red is the roses at funerals (my mother always said that) and red is blood and guts. So some red is bad. But the fabric on the seats of my swivel barstool chairs in the kitchen are red. I like those.

Participating in Random Dozen this week actually enters me into a contest to win an apron with hearts on it. I think this could help me with my answer to #3, so I entered....

Thanks Linda!

Snow's here!

When all my blog friends from down south, where not much snow flies, were getting snow and therefore having SNOW DAYs!, I wondered at Michigan's bare asphalt (though frozen we were). Well. Wonder no longer- the snow has arrived! This top picture is just a few inches I.T. shoveled aside to make paths for his truck tires and a walkway for me (so I can get out in case of fire), before going to work this morning.

The second picture, though blurry, shows the driveway and walkway several hours later, once again covered. The trenches you see are from the boy who swiftly shuffled his way, in over- sized boots, up to our front door.


Ding dong. Fash opened the door.


"I'll dig you out for $10!" he beamed like the headlights on the John Deere lawnmower turned snowplow that sat running at the roadside- his dad at the wheel.


But Fash would have none of it. She gave him the old "my dad's bigger than your dad" squint that sent him running to the neighbors.


Yep. I'm sure when I.T. gets home, he's gonna be real glad that Fash saved that shoveling for him. (eyes rolling)

Sex180

When Fashionista was 15, there was this 14 year old kid who had a crush on her. Nobody made any big announcement about it; it was just obvious and everyone who hung around in her circle of friends knew it. I knew it. And my husband, I.T. knew it. We also knew that this young whippersnapper was trying to drum up the courage to ask I.T. if he could date Fash.

And so it happened that one Friday evening after a performance of Fiddler on the Roof, as we stood congratulating crew and cast members, which included Fash and Whippersnapper, I.T. saw out of the corner of his eye- Whippersnapper approaching. Anticipating something this father was not in favor of, I.T. folded his muscular, football -player- from -way- back arms across his chest and pursed his lips into the serious face. Whippersnapper bobbed his way through the sea of well-wishers, planted his feet in front of I.T., smiled up at him with quivering lips and questioningly began.."Mr. I.T...." to which I.T., not allowing the rest of the question, firmly and promptly replied, "NO." Whippersnapper crumpled like a Valentine in the hands of a deliverer who changed his mind, as he faded back into the crowd.

I always felt a little sorry for Whippersnapper. He seemed like a nice enough boy. But I fully agreed with I.T.. We didn't like what the current culture called "dating" and we didn't want our daughter to fall in and be carried along that mainstream. Especially not at age 15.

As the years passed, Whippersnapper, while maintaining his adventurous spirit, grew into a polite, young man with a passion to know and serve the Lord, Jesus. He didn't change his mind about Fash. At Christmas time, 2009, he mustered up his courage to approach I.T. again to ask if he could date Fash.

Funny thing, but I.T.'s schedule really began to fill up in the days and weeks that followed that request, so this meeting kept getting re-scheduled. The truth was we still didn't like what the culture called "dating", even if Fash was now 18, but we weren't sure what our best advice could be. We grew up in the 70's and early 80's. What profound knowledge regarding relationships did we have that we could impart to these young adults? We only knew there had to be a better way than what we experienced and what we currently saw going on in the world of dating. I asked the Lord to show me.

Shortly after, I visited the other bookstore owned by Kregel, my employer, for a few more Christmas gifts. This title jumped out at me: Sex180-the next revolution by Chip Ingram and Tim Walker. I picked it up and started reading.

"Sex180 is for people who want something different-drastically different. A full 180 degrees different. It's for people who want a revolution-a second sexual revolution-to happen with them, their friends, their family, their school, and their world. It's time. Because the way things are now...well, they're not so great."

That's what I.T. and I wanted for Fash and this young man. We wanted them to help redefine dating for the culture- to be living examples of a better, higher way to be involved in a relationship. We wanted them to consider God's word regarding relationships and to seek his way in that area of their lives. We wanted them to be a part of the next revolution, the one that would undo the sexual revolution of the 60's- the one that would replace brokenness and shame with respect, integrity, honor and devotion to the One who created relationships in the first place.

I bought the book. Fash and I read it. We told I.T. all about it. I.T. and I talked about it. The wisdom within the pages of that book, based on God's word, concerning relationships and sex paved the way for the discussion that soon followed.

The young man, Fash, I.T. and I enjoyed an unforgettable evening sharing our thoughts about dating- Hollywood's version that the world seems to follow and God's version, as described in the book, Sex180. What began as a request from a young man for permission to date our daughter turned into a thoughtful opportunity to explore, "what is dating anyway?" And then to talk about the love and care God has for each of us and how that love and care can be mirrored in relationships.

Sex180 is not about another t-shirt or a promise ring or a card you sign and stick in your wallet. The teaching in this book goes way beyond "just wait until you're married". It's about a whole new way of relating to the opposite sex, about becoming the right person instead of chasing after the right person. It is time to stop manipulating people, leaving a trail of debris behind us and living with regrets. The price the culture demands is too high; it has already cost us too much. It's time to turn to God, to his word and his way of loving others. It's time to live out this thing called the Christian faith in every aspect of our lives, including how we do relationships, such that the current template for dating is turned upside down- 180 degrees of difference.

The young man left our house with a copy of the book and he tells me he is reading it. I believe him. Fash and this young man and many others like them: you were created for such a time as this. Read the book, read the Book and be prepared to "... give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have." 1Peter 3:15 . Welcome to the revolution.