“Dear God, thank you that I didn’t die today and I hope I don’t die tonight. Or the next day. I mean, I know I have to die someday, I just hope it’s not today or tonight or the next day.”
Everyone who asks how our trip to the Balkans went always asks the same two questions: How was it? What does that mean for the future? Seemingly simple questions, right? There are no words that can answer them. There are no emotions that can answer them. There are no actions that can answer them. There are no _________ (you fill in the blank) that can answer them. There are no simple answers. So if you’re one of those people that need to have a simple answer, please, I beg of you, ask me if I brushed my teeth this morning. Ask me about the birth of my second child. Just don’t ask me how my trip was and what it means for the future. I may never have an answer for you. I hope that I don’t need to. I know that I enjoyed myself immensely. I loved the bonding experience with my teammates. I was able to see that nothing is really as scary as I think it will be. I heard stories that moved me and challenged me. I met people that I now love just because I met them and they are worthy of being loved. I hope I see them again someday. I was honest with God, myself, my husband, my team about my feelings. Where do I go from here? In some ways, I feel like I will be disappointing people no matter what answer I give. But the ultimate question is, what does God want? And if there is something He wants regarding where we live, will He make it happen or do I have to figure it out and act accordingly? And how do those people who talk about being called know that they’re called? Do they have more faith than I do? I’m open. I just don’t know where to go from here. This is my prayer. Right now I’m just waiting in the stillness.
I recently had a friend introduce me to this personality profile. Since I am a sucker for anything that helps me dig deeper into myself, my friends and the world around me, I have not been able to quit reading everything there is to read on this site. There’s some kooky stuff, but there’s a lot of truth too. It’s fun. I would love it if you’d take the free test and tell me what number you are. One thing that’s great about it is that you can either just answer a few simple questions and get a simple definition, or if you’re obsessive like me, you can analyze deeper and deeper, looking into how you relate to others, getting recommendations for growth, finding out what addictions you’re prone to… It’s all up to you!
By the way, I’m a five (which is given the name “Investigator” on this particular site). In a nutshell, I spend a lot of time inside my head without ever getting anything figured out.
Kids are growing up too quickly these days. You hear it all the time. It’s been blamed on everything from television to music to hormones that dairy farmers give their cows. I don’t know why it is that we notice little girls growing up too quickly more than we notice the boys, but since I have only girls, I am extra aware of it. I’m sure that in the overall scheme of things, having three daughters does not make one an expert on daughters, so I won’t claim expert status here. I am only pondering. Here is my non-expert explanation for the seemingly sped-up rate of maturity in our young ladies: hand-me-downs. Think about it. For ages upon ages now, we have recycled clothing. Once a shirt is too small for one girl, it is passed on to a smaller girl. Thus, an evolution of sorts takes place. It doesn’t happen all at once – in fact, it can take years for the miniscule changes to begin to be noticed. For instance, a twelve-year old girl passes her clothes along to her ten-year old sister. They are too big for the ten-year old, but she thinks they are so cool because they came from her older, more mature sister. So she begins wearing them at a slightly earlier age than the age they were originally intended for. Over the years, an erosion of the ages begins to take place and before you know it, what once was twelve is now eleven. If we all just bought our daughters brand new clothes and threw them away when they grew out of them, we could put an end to this madness. I’m sure of it.
I have a dad who teaches me about love. He dances with my mom around the kitchen while she’s making dinner. He tells the story of our God who sent His Son to die in our place with excitement in his voice and tears in his eyes. He believes in people. In his eyes, anyone is capable of doing anything and going anywhere. He can make you believe in the impossible. He takes great delight in being with his family and watching his grandchildren grow. When his sons (and son-in-law) act funny, stupid and downright ridiculous, his laugh is contagious. When people hurt, he hurts with them. And when life gets disgusting, he gets disgusted. Whenever he calls me on the phone, he always greets me with, “This is your dad……your FAVORITE dad.” My dad is a teacher, a dreamer, an encourager, a builder and a traveler. Thanks, Dad. You are my favorite. Happy Father’s Day.
I am not a Texan. I love it here, but I’m not really an anything. My husband likes to make fun of me every time I tell people that I was born in Oregon and 26 houses later, I’m here in Texas. But hey, everyone has to have an identity and that’s mine, I guess. It’s still very weird for me whenever I am reminded that my children are Texans. Born and raised. Tonight, when the kids were putting their snow cones in the freezer to save the rest for tomorrow, Grace exclaimed, “But y’all…….how are y’all gonna know which one is y’all’s?”
Not that I want this blog to be all about my digestive troubles. Or the lack thereof. It’s just that I have a lot of really important things that I’m thinking about and a lot of feelings that threaten to consume me, but they’re all so fragmented and rolling around inside my head and pushing my heart to beat faster and to ache… I just think I need some time to process before I can write them down.
So I will tell you instead about how I was just over at my friend Kirsty’s house. She is a really good cookie-maker. Possibly the best in the world. She had hot snicker doodles, fresh from the oven. I ate like the whole batch of them, along with a huge glass of ice-cold milk. Which brings me to one of the important things that I learned over in Europe: I can eat dairy products and not have a stomach ache. In fact, I ate tons of chocolate, coffee, coke AND dairy – all things that some people have suggested might not be so good for my stomach. I felt better than I have felt in years while I was there. There is only one thing that I didn’t have for two weeks that I have three or four times a day at home: aspartame. All things diet. I am done with diet forever, let me tell you. It was the Diet Pepsi that was hurting! Not the milk. Not even the Pepsi.
Maybe I’ll get to some other important things in my next post. Until then, bottoms up.