Seeking Him Together

Shortly after I began my blog, I joined a blogger Bible study, Seeking Him Together. I barely knew how to post the button on my sidebar and I'm still fuzzy on linking etiquette. I was also confused about what book we'd be studying (the Seeking Him Together button wasn't enough of a clue for me) Therefore I began the study about a week behind everyone else. My plan was to race through the first part to catch up to the pack.

The introductory lesson defined the study- it's on revival. Page 18 tells of the countless joys of walking closely with and seeking God: rebuilds a desire for God's Word, prayer, praise and obedience, repairs broken marriages, removes bitterness, fear and worry, refreshes the spirit, renews the mind and reforms the life. The first question after all that was, "Which result of revival do you particularly need and desire to see in your own life?" After reading the choices over and over, I decided on "reforms the life" because that would sort of cover it all. Next....

Lesson 2 topic: humility. First question, have I ever known someone who was truly humble? Yes, I know someone. She always thinks of others before herself. She takes the low road and never seems to be trying to impress anyone. She's a good listener and has imparted wisdom to me with her words on several occasions.

Moving right along, I read a few stories illustrating pride vs. humility. The Day 5 page marked the end of lesson 2. There I found a two column list of 30 one liner characteristics of proud people paralleled with 30 one liner characteristics of humble people. I was to read the proud descriptive and the humble one across from it and circle the one that best described me. Easy enough.

First one- under Proud people.... "focus on the failures of others" and under Humble people...."are overwhelmed with a sense of their own spiritual need" Hmmm. I hoped I didn't focus on the failures of others, but why were personal examples of what this looked like quickly piling up in my memory. I studied the humble choice again. "Overwhelmed with a sense of spiritual need", "overwhelmed", "overwhelmed". I wasn't sure I could describe myself as being overwhelmed with my need. I know I need the Lord, but a more accurate description would be "sometimes forgets how much she needs the Lord". Between the two choices, I honestly identified more with the proud.

After nine more consecutive proud picks, I got to #11. Proud people..."have a drive to be recognized and appreciated" and Humble people...."have a sense of their own unworthiness; are thrilled that God would use them at all", I laid the pencil down. This pattern was not pretty.

Reading the remaining 19 comparisons was like walking through one of Disney's dark forests where the scary trees come alive. Roots and branches from the dead oaks of pride were slithering toward me and twisting tightly around my wrists and ankles subduing my pursuit of revival.

As of today, I'm still chopping my way out of the forest. Life has been presenting me with one opportunity after another to practice laying down my pride in exchange for humility- all week long. With Memorial Day providing that extra day off, I expected a walk in the park from Tuesday to today. But getting here was a sweaty, uphill climb. Maybe the view from the top will be enlightening. I'll let you know when I get there.

I flipped ahead in the study guide and I'm already anxious about upcoming chapters on Honesty and Repentance - working on it, working on it- I glimpsed hope in Lesson 5 when I saw the title, 'Grace: God's Provision for Every Need'. I'm pretty sure I'm going to skip ahead to Lesson 5.

I thankfully reside in the grace of God. I need to live there and He promises me that home. I'm completely persuaded of the truth of God's Word, of His love for me, of his sovereignty and that His ways are higher than my ways. I know he is working in my life to mold me into something He can use and I think He sometimes uses me now, even with all of my imperfections.

One of the study questions for this week asks what part of scripture has been most helpful to me thus far in understanding what revival means in my life. I'm undecided. I'm even more at a loss to answer the second question about what we can do to create greater freedom in the Body of Christ to be honest with each other. All I know for sure right now is God loves me and He's working with me and waiting patiently, while I learn to work with Him. Seeking Him Together is his current tool of choice for chiseling off a few more chunks toward completion of the good work that He began in me years ago. I will continue to seek Him.

What's Your Answer Wednesday

1. What is your favorite word?

Oxymoron. But there are sooo many fantastic words. I also like to make up my own words sometimes.

2. Do you cut out coupons but never use them?

You can bet if I cut them out, I will not use them, yes, that is correct.

3. Do you wear perfume?

Not usually. I also can't stand anything on my neck- no tags from shirts, no necklaces- usually.

I'd love to expound, but it's too late, I have to go to bed- again, in lieu of blogging *sigh*. I was just quickly checking in to read a few and found this on Lidna's blog, so am practicing participating. Hope I'm linked properly.

Heidi

Blogging

I like blogging. If I had a day to myself to do whatever I wanted and if I could get past feeling guilty about all the other things I should be doing with my time, I'd make myself a cup of half decaf/half loaded coffee with cream and honey and blog. I might type for hours. I might stay up into the wee hours of the early morning plunking out thoughts on my blog. I might write until the cows come home.

My mom used to say things like, see you when the cows come home. I imagine this to be what my grandmother said to my grandfather in the olden days when he left for work in the morning, just after he put the cows out to pasture. The cows would always come home about dinner time, because they would feel that strong urge to be milked. Grandpa would always come home about dinner time, because he would feel that nagging pang of hunger. He'd also need to milk the cows. But when I say I might blog until the cows come home, I am talking about the old dried up Bessies, who are way out in the field with their red hats on partying the night away. I'm never ready to stop blogging, not even when it's time for dinner.

As it is , I find there are many tasks at hand that a responsible, home educating, working mother must do and they don't include blogging. I find myself looking for ways to blend blogging into the tasks. For example, I recently put water and rice on to boil for dinner and went downstairs to simply write the beginning of a new post. I figured I had at least two or three minutes before the bubbles began to roll in the pot, when I would then need to run upstairs and turn the burner down to low so the rice could simmer until done. That would gain me about 40 more minutes. It seemed like a workable plan. But when I logged in to my dashboard, I saw that many of my bloggies had posted new material and I began to click on one after another to read the new posts. I figured only about two or three minutes had passed, but when I ran upstairs to turn down the rice, I entered a room full of smoke. The water had long ago boiled out of the pot and the black rice was stuck to the bottom. I opened all the windows as fast as I could and turned on a fan, but I.T.-ologist was very suspicious when he came in. He wondered what we were having for dinner. Well, I told him, it wasn't rice.

Later, over grilled chicken and vegetables without rice, I.T.-ologist curiously wanted to know if the burning of rice had anything to do with my blog. This is not the first time I felt sort of busted- caught red-handed blogging, like it was a crime or something. I mean I'm not sneaking into the closet for a little swig of hooch- that would be wrong, right? But sometimes I feel like I have to silently disappear into the computer room and then pop back out and iron shirts, as if I was doing what I should be doing all along. Blogging feels almost wrong, but it isn't, right?

Sometimes I worry that my followers will be disappointed if I don't blog something new for them to read every day or so, like other famously successful bloggers I read do. I must post for the fans, I tell myself. But then it occurred to me that my 17 followers may actually have other things that interest them besides reading my blog. They may actually have other things to do.

In reality, I just have all these blog posts whirling around and stuck in my head, because there isn't enough time in the day to take care of business and pleasure and still blog. So, here it is 12:31 a.m. and I want to keep blogging, but I have to go to bed. My poor, adoring husband has pretty much given up on ever seeing me again.

What is this madness?

Can anyone relate??

Another Maavelous Day in the Suburbs

I once thought the perfect life would be the one lived in the country on a few acres of land with an old farmhouse and a barn full of animals. Our family never made it to that grass is greener on the other side place. However, one of my sisters lives in the country. As it turns out, that isn't the best location for making a killing off treasures that have been retired to closet or attic. Mainstream suburbia is where shoppers lurk, searching endlessly for deals. Every couple of years or so, sis yearns to swap stuff for cash. So, she brings all of her junk to my garage. Fashionista and I add a few items and wa-la- we take advantage of this life in the suburbs-with a garage sale.


Sis is always trying to entice garage salers to our sales. She believes large merchandise has the best road appeal and will draw people in. This year she ran an ad on Craigslist announcing we'd have a sofa set for sale, but she didn't actually have a sofa set to sell. Not wanting to disappoint, I decided to sacrifice our Lazy Boy hide-a-bed and a loveseat-the family room furniture. While sis and Fashionista heave hoed the seating out to the garage, I dreamily leafed through the IKEA flyer I'd just received in the mail. Surely I'd make enough and we'd update the look of the family room. Just to be sure, I added to the sale two pet rabbits complete with hutch and extra cages.
On Thursday at 4:00 pm the garage door lifted and we were open for business. We were trying something new-a night before the real sale preview sale. We got about three customers and $1.50, but then nothing. Nobody else. The neighbor across the street came wheelin' in from work, so I asked him, "hey did you see our sign?" He wasn't sure, "Does it look like a bunch of duct tape on a stick?" Lackadaisically, we'd stuck our pathetically small signs on pencil thin garden stakes with knock off duct tape from the dollar store. Also the weather was a bit blustery.

The Malibu and I retraced the sign route. I found duct tape flapping in the wind on metal skewers, but the garage sale signs were missing in action. One message remained, but every time the breeze picked up it did a 180 around the stick indicating the sale was being held on Broadview Drive one minute and Hollyhock Street the next.

That was enough garage sale for one evening.

Sis and I regrouped and decided to play a board game with her kids, Outside the Box, his girlfriend and Fashionista. Gathering in the family room, everyone looked around. Outside the Box verbalized what we all were thinking, "What are we gonna sit on?"

Friday morning we woke revitalized. I.T.-ologist had sawed the ends of two inch wide, flat, wooden sticks to a point, so we could easily drive them deep into the ground. We used larger, brighter colored poster board, thickened the font and taped the living daylight out of the backsides of those signs with reinforced packaging adhesive, securing them for life to the pointy sticks.

I hammered those hummers a foot deep into the earth's crust at every crossroad within a two and a half mile radius of our driveway. Just like Jimmy John's- the success was in the signs. A steady stream of shoppers flowed in and out of our garage all day.

Sis did the happy feet dance when her high ticket item- the rocker from Crate and Barrel- sold. The event turned bittersweet when suddenly there was a rush on rabbits. I'd been looking for a loving home for those little fertilizer factories for about two years, ever since I decided to join the working world. Sadly, I no longer had time for the cuddly bunnies. The first interested party asked me how much they weighed, but what I heard was: will they feed a family of four? No deal. Finally, after three more no deals, a 13 year old girl, who lived on a farm held the lop earred furballs, hugged and kissed each and proclaimed her love for them. To my delight she bought both Pudge and Margo, their hutch, 4 cages, 2 nesting boxes, food supply and water bottles paying me three times what I asked for the lot. Now that is what I call a deal.

Sometimes the deals are too good to be true. In our garage the dividing line between what is for sale and what isn't is made unmistakable by I.T.-ologist. He builds temporary walls to cover shelving where his tools are stored and hides his remaining valuables behind a barricade of boards toward the back of the garage. After that he disappears. I think he gets a little scared when we have these garage sales- probably because a few years back before one of our sales, I asked him if he had anything he wanted me to sell for him. He said I could sell that one weedwacker. "How much?" I asked. He said, "Cheap." I looked around the garage, spied a weedwacker and put it out in the driveway to attract male buyers. The very first guy on the scene asked, "How much for the weedwacker?" I said, "One dollar." His eyes dilated and he grabbed it, smiled and gave me the buck. It's heartwarming to make someone's day like that.

Later after work, I.T.-ologist decided to whack a few weeds. He asked with a slight tremor of lip, "Where's my weedwacker that was hanging on this hook right here?" I said I sold it. Cheap. One dollar. Come to find out, I.T.-ologist had recently taken a weedwacker out of some guy's trash thinking he might fix it one day. The other weedwacker- he had just purchased on sale at the hardware store for $99.00. You'll never guess which one I sold.

This year's mishap was not so costly. I.T.-ologist phoned from work. I asked him about the wheelbarrow full of firewood he'd put in the driveway. How much should I sell that for? He reminded me of the mom and pop operation out by the entrance ramp to the highway. There, grandkids sell bundles of wood, less logs in number than were currently in the wheelbarrow, for ten bucks. So, considering the value of the wheelbarrow, we should get at least $10 for the whole shebang. No problem. I hung up. Then I went downstairs to grab a few more math books to sell. When I got back out to the garage I couldn't see the wheelbarrow. I said to my sister with real fast words,
"Where'sthatwheelbarrow!"

She smiled proudly, "I just sold it!"

I gulped, "how much?"

"Two bucks!" Another happy customer.

After the sale, we counted up the money. We were only $20.00 short of what our calculations told us we should have in hand. Not bad. (bookkeepers we are not) Sis and I split the loss. Everyone else who had contributed items to the sale got their fair share, except I.T.-ologist who got almost his fair share.

Remains of the day boxed up for Goodwill, I waved good-by to sis and the kids as they drove off. Time to relax. But just inside the back entryway, my eyes fell on a purse that did not belong to me. I quickly phoned sis, "you forgot your purse." She turned around, sped back, picked it up and I waved good-by again. Five minutes later I was answering the ring-a-ling. Sis again. She mumbled something about being out of gas.

"Yeah, me too," I sighed into the receiver. These sales are exhausting. But then:

"No, Heidi, my car, we ran out of gas at 36th Street. It's right by a farm, but the guy who lives here says he only has diesel," she sounded helpless.

Everyone else in this family had gone off to do their own thing. I was looking forward to the time alone- to blog. But sisters do not leave sisters stranded on roadsides. Good thing I didn't sell the red plastic gas can. I drove to the station, filled 'er up and headed to 36th . Gas in her tank, kids belted in, I waved good-by for the third time and made tracks back to my house.


I added up the day's values:
Loveseat $35.00
Math books $15.00
Rabbits and gear $30.00
Lazy Boy hide-a-bed $65.00

So, we'll watch television from the floor for a while. Doesn't matter- because it was another maavelous day in the suburbs.

Heidi

Moving On- the Greyhound Bus

This is my third attempt, since the beginning of this week, to let blogfriends stick one eye to the peephole of my world.

Monday, I got the pictures up, but couldn't continue for the flow of all that water I've been drinking for the 30x5 was falling out of my eyeballs.

Tuesday, I arranged the pics and bits of text the best I could, but when I hit "publish post" the words weren't underneath their appropriate pictures. Besides, as I proofed it, the blur returned; I knew if anyone commented, I'd just cry, so I took it down after about two seconds.

One very on top of her game blogger- my writing hero (guess who she is) actually SAW it in the two seconds it was up AND posted a comment. I was shocked! But that comment fortified me and I went to bed dry eyed. Are the people who live inside this computer real, because they are really, really nice folks.

So, here's basically what happened. We drove to the Greyhound bus station. Here's Pilgrim, who shaved his head to mark his momentous departure. And loving sister, Fashionista and supportive brother, Outside the Box (I know you're thinking isn't Pilgrim really Outside the Box? Yes he is. But I named him Pilgrim for reasons that will probably become obvious over time as I post on)- anyway- here they all are in the back seat of our Malibu. I.T.-ologist is driving, I'm tearing an empty kleenex box to smithereens with my teeth and taking this picture.

Here on the left I am phoning my dad, who wouldn't be caught dead on a Greyhound bus. He's assuring me that Pilgrim will be fine and that I will see him again soon. He tells me he, himself, took a bus to somewhere once after high school graduation. Fascinating. I didn't know that. So, I guess everything will be alright then.

We arrived about 2 hours early. Pilgrim wanted to be sure to have time to get his ticket. It was being held at the window. So, we had plenty of time for a family photo session. Security came by to ask us what we were taking pictures of, he noticed we had a tri-pod. We explained that our son was going to California and we didn't know if or when we'd ever see him again, so we decided to get a few souvenir shots of the fam. He said you have to purchase a permit to take artsy shots in the bus station. We convinced him our shots would have no re-sale value whatsoever. Please do not send me money to purchase any of these pictures.

Let me take this kodak moment to tell you that Pilgrim is the most unconventional, compassionate and passionate person I know. His dream right now is to go back to a church he visited in California last year, hook up with their mission to Africa team and head out to an orphanage there to minister to children through performing arts. Yep, he's a filmmaker/theater guy with solid beginner training in both areas. College evokes images of classrooms and pencil to paper techniques of which Pilgrim is not fond. He will learn in the field by living and doing. God has great plans for Pilgrim- in fact, his legal name means 'called by God'.

There was a lot of time to wait or cry, whatever you happened to be needing to do. Time to hang out on the floor of the Greyhound bus station and not think about the socio-economic chasm between those who take the bus and those who fly.

And then it happened. The Greyhound bus drove up. Pilgrim hugged us all, picked up his stuff and......

So long for now, Pilgrim. I love you!

Mom

Jimmy John's

Real time friend, Best Bets, lives up to her blogname. On her blog she gives tips on how to save $ at the grocery store, when to get a free lunch at KFC and where to find full sized menu subs for a dollar. Thanks to her, Fashionista and I took part in a feeding frenzy at the grand opening of a new Jimmy John's gourmet sandwich shop on Saturday.

The parade of locals waiting for $1 subs numbered somewhere in the 30's, so we were a bit skeptical about how long it might take to get our lunch. But this franchiser was prepared. Employees worked the line, asking customers for their orders, writing selections on post-its and giving instructions to hand the sticky note to the cashier when we got up to the counter. We were out of the freezing Michigan mid-May temperatures and inside the toasty sandwich shop within five minutes.

We pushed in just as Elton John blasted over the stereo- "she's got electric boots.. (while Fashionista and I simultaneously burst out with) ELECTRIC BOOBS!" (I had told her about a comment on 2nd Cup of Coffee's funny post on butchering song lyrics) Yeah, people sorta looked, but it was a sandwich party in there. We blended in. Jimmy Johnny's plastic gloved hands were shoving meat and cheese into buns lickity split. Lettuce was flying. But customers were not impatient, the key to success is all in their signs.

Right off the bat, there's the, 'Want a faster sandwich, make it yourself ' sign. I think people respect that; mom's sure get it and it defines the necessary level of expectation. Next, learn about the low carb option of the Unwich, your sandwich of choice minus the bread. How do you eat that? Read another sign. 'Don't unwrap it, don't unwrap it, do not unwrap it...' Simple. (It's a lettuce wrap, so unwrapping it would be disasterous) 'Want onions, say "loaded", want hot peppers, say "with pep"'. All confusion eliminated, the patron is well prepared to order.

My favorite sign is the one that says something to the effect of, 'okay, so our sandwiches are not really gourmet and we aren't even French, but our subs are tasty, so let's go with that....' Honesty is hard to come by these days. I like it. JJ is a fun place to get a sandwich. And why not, after all, as the sign will tell you...

"Your mom wants you to eat at Jimmy John's!"

(Fashionista enjoyed a Turkey Tom without the toms and I feasted on Totally Tuna- yummy!)
Good Eats-
Heidi

First Try at Five Faves From this Week

Top Five Faves of the Week in Brief (most can be found somewhere on the blog already)

#5. Tonight Fashionista and I attended an amazing graduation celebration for 12 outstanding home educated- all -their- lives seniors. These kids' bios listing their accomplishments and future plans impressed my socks off. The speaker was excellent; his message was personal and timely. It made me laugh and cry. There were only 12 graduates, so plenty of time for a little slide show of pics featuring each one and the ceremony still didn't seem long. Next year, Fashionista will be one of those graduates and I'll be crying for a whole different reason.

#4. I.T.-ologist and I discovered a unique tourist attraction on the way to Indianapolis. You can read all about it below in the Cows and Hearts post.

#3. A tie between: winning the book Spilt Milk in a drawing on Linda Vujnov's blog. Click on the picture of the book in my sidebar for more on that. And: discovering an error in my math calculation concerning how much H2O I need to drink each day to stay competitive in the 30x5 Exercise Challenge. I was drinking 40 ounces more each day than I needed to! No wonder I was becoming uncomfortably familiar with toilets all over town. I'm feeling better now.

#2. It was pure pleasure making breakfast for Pilgrim at 6:00 a.m. on Monday and Friday, before he beat it on out of here to help a guy hydroseed- working hard for those last few dollars in the face of his Monday departure for the west coast. Again, you can read about it in Cows and Hearts.

#1. Outside the Box is back! We've missed him. More on that below, as well....

(this post is me participating in a fun blog thing, for any readers who wouldn't know that)
Heidi