Friday, May 28, 2010
Thursday, May 27, 2010
a little nonsense
I have one of those battery-powered Colgate Pulsar electric toothbrushes.
It's the best.
Lately the brush has been acting up, I'm sure the battery is slowly dying or something.
On two different mornings this week, I have rinsed off the brush, loaded it with toothpaste, set it against my two front teeth, switched on the power button only to find nothing happens, and thought to myself "Crap. Now I can't brush my teeth."
...until I remember that MY ARM STILL WORKS.
Just had to tell someone.
It's the best.
Lately the brush has been acting up, I'm sure the battery is slowly dying or something.
On two different mornings this week, I have rinsed off the brush, loaded it with toothpaste, set it against my two front teeth, switched on the power button only to find nothing happens, and thought to myself "Crap. Now I can't brush my teeth."
...until I remember that MY ARM STILL WORKS.
Just had to tell someone.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
I like my school! I like my sister! I like my hair! I like my hair-cuts!
It has come to my attention recently that I am incredibly bored.
Back in December I wanted nothing more than to be done with school so I could simply go to work and come home and go grocery shopping and do laundry and play with my friends on the weekends. As it turns out, I'm bored to tears. No really. The desk life is not all it's cracked up to be, ladies and gents. As much as everyone tells me I'm so Pam, I cannot only do what she does and then go for a run after work to be satisfied with my life.
I thought I loved school because it was the alternative to going to work. It turns out I just love school in general and I DESPISE not learning. Hate it. So I'm taking a class this summer, because I'm really interested in doing this kind of thing.
Oh, and I graduated too. Did I tell you? It was the biggest nuisance, that whole ceremony, but my Mom got a kick out of it and I got a visit with her out of it, so you know.
Back in December I wanted nothing more than to be done with school so I could simply go to work and come home and go grocery shopping and do laundry and play with my friends on the weekends. As it turns out, I'm bored to tears. No really. The desk life is not all it's cracked up to be, ladies and gents. As much as everyone tells me I'm so Pam, I cannot only do what she does and then go for a run after work to be satisfied with my life.
I thought I loved school because it was the alternative to going to work. It turns out I just love school in general and I DESPISE not learning. Hate it. So I'm taking a class this summer, because I'm really interested in doing this kind of thing.
In other news, Danielle Lorraine graduated from high school last weekend! I just really really love this girl, and I'm so proud of her. She continually astounds me with her strength, hilarity, and concern for others in every situation. She is the complete embodiment of 2nd Corinthians 4:8-9 and I can't wait to see what God is preparing her for in the future. It's going to be big.
Last picture for today: my cousin Katie delivered her sweet baby girl Jadyn Elise this morning! Say a prayer for this little half-pint, she could have used about 9 more weeks in her momma's belly, but she must be the daughter of a Marine or something because she's doing really well and even breathing on her own.
I know I'm just a cousin to this baby beauty, but I've decided that I would rather be her aunt. That's a lot more fun. Jordan and Katie, take note. Just slide me over on her family tree. I have got to get down to Mississippi to kiss her little baby toes sometime soon.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
worry no more part deux
Update: it's not going very well. However, I am going to start doing this every morning and I expect to see improvement in 4-6 weeks.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
worry no more
I have decided that I do not want to be an anxious person any more, ever again.
When I was a small child, my dad sat me down on the coffee table opposite from him on the couch, looked me gravely in the eye and explained exactly what an ulcer was and how I was too young to have one. I also remember my mother telling me that I could "what if" myself to death if I really wanted to. I went to school that same day and literally made myself sick because I was so afraid of my teacher. I'll spare you the details. It involved vomit in a classroom.
I am very talented at talking myself into needless despair, convincing myself that I am somehow inferior and undeserving of every good and perfect gift everyone else should have.
One night Amy was all worked up over something or other and I said "Jesus says not to worry". She looked up at me with bright clear eyes and said I was right. I really don't think she has worried about anything since. The next week she spoke my words right back to me in a fitting situation, and I really didn't appreciate her input. Not when I was so set on worrying.
I hate seeing people I love full of angst. There's no need for that. Their light and momentary troubles are no match for the glory that's holding them.
I have just got to figure out a way of making myself believe what I tell my friends; that tomorrow can worry about itself, and that if God cares enough about the birds to make sure they have enough crumbs to make it through the day, He's got me covered too.
I'll let you know how it goes.
When I was a small child, my dad sat me down on the coffee table opposite from him on the couch, looked me gravely in the eye and explained exactly what an ulcer was and how I was too young to have one. I also remember my mother telling me that I could "what if" myself to death if I really wanted to. I went to school that same day and literally made myself sick because I was so afraid of my teacher. I'll spare you the details. It involved vomit in a classroom.
I am very talented at talking myself into needless despair, convincing myself that I am somehow inferior and undeserving of every good and perfect gift everyone else should have.
One night Amy was all worked up over something or other and I said "Jesus says not to worry". She looked up at me with bright clear eyes and said I was right. I really don't think she has worried about anything since. The next week she spoke my words right back to me in a fitting situation, and I really didn't appreciate her input. Not when I was so set on worrying.
I hate seeing people I love full of angst. There's no need for that. Their light and momentary troubles are no match for the glory that's holding them.
I have just got to figure out a way of making myself believe what I tell my friends; that tomorrow can worry about itself, and that if God cares enough about the birds to make sure they have enough crumbs to make it through the day, He's got me covered too.
I'll let you know how it goes.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
here's to you
Tuesday night was splendid, but Wednesday morning was less than inspiring. It mainly consisted of spilling coffee on my white skirt, grumpy drivers who wouldn't let me into their turning lane club, small animals getting murdered by large vehicles in front of my very eyes, hearing of a friend lose their job, slow computers, and flash flood warnings that insighted visions of the Missouri River spreading its banks through downtown Kansas City a la Nashville.
By midafternoon, I decided that the only way to spend my evening was in my upper room reading my favorite author, Marilynne Robinson, and enjoy listening to the rain and thunder without having to feel it. I mentioned these plans to Cari, who informed me that Marilynne herself was going to be at the Kansas City Public Library and she had an extra reservation she could share with me.
Hot diggity.
Do I sound like a very boring person yet?
It's just that Marilynne wrote the most beautiful book I've ever read, Gilead, where she threw out life-changing sentences like rice at a wedding:
"Nothing true can be said about God from a posture of defense."
"Love is holy because it is like grace--the worthiness of its object is never really what matters."
"I’m writing this in part to tell you that if you ever wonder what you’ve done in your life, and everyone does wonder sooner or later, you have been God’s grace to me, a miracle, something more than a miracle."
So the clouds parted and the sun came out for a time...until I left work and the sky unleashed its temper all over me and I found that I have not a single hooded jacket or umbrella in my closet. No matter. I got a picture with Marilynne and she signed my book.
By midafternoon, I decided that the only way to spend my evening was in my upper room reading my favorite author, Marilynne Robinson, and enjoy listening to the rain and thunder without having to feel it. I mentioned these plans to Cari, who informed me that Marilynne herself was going to be at the Kansas City Public Library and she had an extra reservation she could share with me.
Hot diggity.
Do I sound like a very boring person yet?
It's just that Marilynne wrote the most beautiful book I've ever read, Gilead, where she threw out life-changing sentences like rice at a wedding:
"Nothing true can be said about God from a posture of defense."
"Love is holy because it is like grace--the worthiness of its object is never really what matters."
"I’m writing this in part to tell you that if you ever wonder what you’ve done in your life, and everyone does wonder sooner or later, you have been God’s grace to me, a miracle, something more than a miracle."
So the clouds parted and the sun came out for a time...until I left work and the sky unleashed its temper all over me and I found that I have not a single hooded jacket or umbrella in my closet. No matter. I got a picture with Marilynne and she signed my book.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
love, honey-san
When I was home a couple of weeks ago, I had the pleasure of borrowing my dad's spaceship car. Okay, it's a Toyota Prius, but it's very spaceshipey. I drove it the 7-minute ride to the beach for some solitary sun-bathing.
When I got there, I opened that little compartment between the driver's seat and passenger's seat to hide my cell phone when I spotted a slightly crumpled piece of paper that had my mother's handwriting on it. Nosey as I've ever been in my life, I picked it up and read the whole thing.
It was a love letter! From my mother! To my father!
The realization of what I held in my hands rendered me immobile for a short minute. It was a bit saucy, that letter, which both horrified and delighted me at the same time.
I put it away--exactly as I found it--and walked out onto the blinding sun and sand.
My parents have been married since 1982. That's 28 years of a variety in terms of good and bad. I'm not entirely sure they really knew each other when they got married, but I'm not entirely sure anyone does.
They definitely signed up for the black diamond of marriage slopes, moving all over the world with 2 little girls, following God's voice wherever they heard Him calling. I remember living in a tiny little Parisian apartment where the washer was stacked on the dryer in the kitchen and the carpet was so rough that I skinned my knees on it. Long distance calls to the USA cost big bucks if my Mom ever needed to talk to her mother about a how to be a good one on a bad day, and there was no e-mail. I'm sure my dad wondered more than once if he was doing right by his little family. He spent 8 years building a church out of nothing, and then watched it crumble from a hospital bed before feeling peace enough to move on. Those were hard times, and I don't remember much candlelight or romance when Mom had to leave our whining selves with friends to go to the hospital and sit through scary, foreign procedures in support of her husband. 'In sickness and in health' becomes less cliche when it's reality.
Life eased its burdens for a few years, but there were plenty more mountains for them to climb on little energy after we moved back to the states. I'm sure it would have been easier for either one of them to decide to go it alone after a while. I definitely did. I took off to Kansas City by myself when things were hard. But they didn't.
My world makes sense because my father loves my mother. It's the foundation on which I build everything else.
I know well enough that there have been several years in their 28 where they were married just because they were married. I heard some ugly fights from the inside of my bedroom door more than once, as every child in every family does.
Being a professional Christian doesn't mean you're not a human anymore, and there's nothing more exhausting or debilitating than trying to keep a perfection gloss on your life. We all gave up after a while.
Somehow, somehow, they made it to today together. They made it to three grown children and nearly 30 years and they're still writing love letters to each other, just like in the beginning.
I'm just so grateful.
When I got there, I opened that little compartment between the driver's seat and passenger's seat to hide my cell phone when I spotted a slightly crumpled piece of paper that had my mother's handwriting on it. Nosey as I've ever been in my life, I picked it up and read the whole thing.
It was a love letter! From my mother! To my father!
The realization of what I held in my hands rendered me immobile for a short minute. It was a bit saucy, that letter, which both horrified and delighted me at the same time.
I put it away--exactly as I found it--and walked out onto the blinding sun and sand.
My parents have been married since 1982. That's 28 years of a variety in terms of good and bad. I'm not entirely sure they really knew each other when they got married, but I'm not entirely sure anyone does.
They definitely signed up for the black diamond of marriage slopes, moving all over the world with 2 little girls, following God's voice wherever they heard Him calling. I remember living in a tiny little Parisian apartment where the washer was stacked on the dryer in the kitchen and the carpet was so rough that I skinned my knees on it. Long distance calls to the USA cost big bucks if my Mom ever needed to talk to her mother about a how to be a good one on a bad day, and there was no e-mail. I'm sure my dad wondered more than once if he was doing right by his little family. He spent 8 years building a church out of nothing, and then watched it crumble from a hospital bed before feeling peace enough to move on. Those were hard times, and I don't remember much candlelight or romance when Mom had to leave our whining selves with friends to go to the hospital and sit through scary, foreign procedures in support of her husband. 'In sickness and in health' becomes less cliche when it's reality.
Life eased its burdens for a few years, but there were plenty more mountains for them to climb on little energy after we moved back to the states. I'm sure it would have been easier for either one of them to decide to go it alone after a while. I definitely did. I took off to Kansas City by myself when things were hard. But they didn't.
My world makes sense because my father loves my mother. It's the foundation on which I build everything else.
I know well enough that there have been several years in their 28 where they were married just because they were married. I heard some ugly fights from the inside of my bedroom door more than once, as every child in every family does.
Being a professional Christian doesn't mean you're not a human anymore, and there's nothing more exhausting or debilitating than trying to keep a perfection gloss on your life. We all gave up after a while.
Somehow, somehow, they made it to today together. They made it to three grown children and nearly 30 years and they're still writing love letters to each other, just like in the beginning.
I'm just so grateful.
Monday, May 3, 2010
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