Looking for Blogger Intervention . . .

I've lost the buttons on my new post page so I can't post the pictures I was going to post today.

I've made a heartfelt plea to the Blogger support folks but they're probably out for the holiday so a decent post with pictures probably won't come until next week.

I'm in a state of procrastination right now. (How's that for a Sunday Scribbling "Destination"? Drat - I can't even link you to the site here without my buttons! See the location on the sidebar if you'd like to read this weeks Scribblers!) We'll have a houseful tonight as we are celebrating a belated Christmas with Brad's side of the family. We're all looking forward to being together as it's been a few years since we've all been in one place.

Sorry I've nothing profound to write at the moment. Actually, I have lots of thoughts on resolutions, goals, reflection, book lists . . . all that good stuff, but there are toilets that need scrubbing, beds that need changing, floors that need vacuumming and appetizers that need making. One of my resolutions - give you all something worth reading on this blog in the new year. I think I've slipped into some lazy patterns of giving you too much fluff and not enough substance. I'd like to change that and write about some more thoughtful things in the new year.

To all of you and yours, HAPPY NEW YEAR! Blessings of peace and good health and calorie free indulgences be yours!

The Mysteries of Christmas

Why does it take hours to do all the wrapping, but only minutes to open a huge pile of gifts?

How come we eat Christmas cookies every day, but they seem to multiply like bunnies during the night and there are still MORE Christmas cookies to be eaten the next day?

Why does the blouse that made me look so trim in the fitting room at Macy's make me look like an elephant hiding under a tent in our family Christmas picture?

Why do I get sick of Christmas songs on the radio about the 20th of December but miss them on the 26th?

Why does sleeping in the rest of the year mean about 8:00 am but during the Christmas holidays, mean more like 9:30 ish?

Why is it so much cheaper to buy the same thing on the 26th of December that you would have paid full price for on the 24th? Why don't retailers give us an incentive to clear their shelves before Christmas?

Gifty Updates: My mom came through with the serious bookage - 5 new ones! Two on digital photography, The Artist's Way (so now I can finish it - my library renewals ran out before I could finish it last time), "Plan B . . . " by Anne Lamott and a really cool little anthology of the best places in Portland for book lovers. Both sets of parents gave us generous checks to do some household shopping. We got a new waffle iron, a clothes iron, skillet, can opener (the magnetic kind that keeps the lid from falling in) and money for blinds for our great room. Woohoo for the parents and their very practical and welcome gifts of cash!

Today, my daughter and I went down to NW 23rd and the fun shops down there and bought some fun new ornaments and Christmas decorations. This was the first time I've bought new Christmas stuff in about five years. Usually I make due with what I get as gifts or what my mom gives me as hand-me-downs. It was fun to pick out things that I really liked.

Prayer Request: My bloggie friend Darlene has been struggling through the last week caring for her 24 year-old son who was in a serious car accident last week. His injuries were very serious and things are still a bit touch and go. Visit Darlene's blog here to read her updates and please pray for strength and wisdom for Darlene and her family.

Blessings to you all!

Merry Christmas Everyone!

For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Of the increase of his government and peace there will be no end. He will reign on Davids' throne and over his kingdom establishing and upholding it with justice and righteousness from that time on and forever. The zeal of the LORD Almighty will accomplish this. Isaiah 9:6-7

I hope you all have a wonderful day with your family and friends and that the richest blessings of peace, joy and gratitude fill your day and carry on into the new year.

All the best to you my friends!

A Christmas Meme

(Photo from Pittock Mansion, Oregon)

Wrapping paper or gift bags? If I'm opening, wrapping paper - if I'm wrapping, gift bags! (Lazy girl!)

Real tree or artificial? Real, although I feel the pressure to move to the dark side.

Eggnog, hot chocolate or apple cider? When I was about 7 years old I was sledding with the neighbor kids behind my friend Colleen's house. Her mom made a big pot of hot chocolate for all the kids. Guess who drank too much and went home and promptly threw up gallons of hot chocolate? Yup - that'd be me! Can't drink it to this day. I've honestly never tried eggnog - I just can't get past the yuck factor of the name. So, I guess it's apple cider although my new favorite tea flavor is white tea with lemon from Stash. That sounds even better.

Favorite gift as a child? A few: a bike when I was about 9, a hand crocheted blanket from my mom when I was about 12, my own phone when I was about 14.

Nativity Scene? Not a nice one. One that looks like it's made from Femo Clay that I bought at a craft store when the kids were little. This year for a table centerpiece for my Bible Study, I bought a Joseph, Mary and baby Jesus from the Dollar store and they're not terribly ugly - just very "white" looking. Someday, I'd love to have a nice set that doesn't look "canned" or like the traditional nativity scene but looks authentic, with dark skninned, dark haired figures. Last year I almost bought a beautiful metal sculptured nativity scene at Bombay Company but even at half price it was about $90. Ouch!

Hardest person to buy for? My mom. She buys everything for herself as soon as she thinks she needs it.

Easiest person? This year, my daughter. She just got her ears pierced so earrings are a safe bet.

Mail or email Christmas cards? Mail - but email sounds easier!

Worst gift received? Can't really think of one. Maybe an article of clothing that just wasn't my style.

Favorite Christmas movie? Miracle on 34th Street, the new one and The Polar Express.

When do you start shopping for Christmas? Maybe here and there through the summer but mostly after December 1st.

Have you ever recycled a Christmas present? Maybe something generic like candles or something like that.

Favorite thing to eat? Chocolate crinkle cookies, thumbprint cookies and cranberry sauce. Can you tell I have a sweet tooth?

Clear or colored lights? Clear - non blinking.

Outside lights? Yes - but just a row along the gutter line of the house. Nothing like Chevy Chase . . .

Favorite Christmas Song? Oh Come let Us Adore Him, O Little Town of Bethlehem

Travel or stay home? My preference - stay home, but we've traveled a few times. Since we built the addition on our house, we have the best setup for entertaining so we have hosted for the last few years.

Angel on top of tree or star? Star - no question. That's what I grew up with. I'm flexible on most things, but I won't budge on this one.

Open presents Christmas Eve or Christmas morning? Growing up it was one on Christmas eve (PJ's) and the rest on Christmas morning. Now it just depends who we're celebrating with and when.

Favorite ornament theme or color? Nothing in particular. My mom buys us a Hallmark ornament each year so I've got a lot of those on my tree.

Favorite Christmas Dinner? One that I don't have to cook . . .

What do you want for Christmas this year? Books, more books, and a few candles to light to make my house smell pretty. Peace and joy and good health for my friends and loved ones!

Tag, you're it! If you haven't already done this one!

Blogger Tip for the Day

I've seen lots of comments lately on blogs and in comments with quite a bit of agitation and even fury worked into them about losing comments into thin air. I hate to see anyone frustrated and in the wild chance this might be the issue, I wanted to share a little tip I learned when I switched to to blogger beta that has helped.

If you accidentaly type a comment on a post BEFORE you have signed in, select all the text in your comment and do a quick "control + C" to copy the text. Sign in to beta blogger and you'll be back at the blog's comment page but your lovely message to the author will be gone. Just do a quick "control + V" to paste back in your words of wisdom or witty come-back and, voila, your clever comment should be right back where it's supposed to be.

I had to learn this the hard way the first few times I tried to comment using beta. For some reason, the beta blogger won't let you sign in on the fly like the old version.

Hope this helps someone out there. It's the holidays for cryin' out loud - we can't walk around cursing blogger under our breath and still be jolly now, can we?

Peace!

Nifty Giftys and a Two for One Tag

Firstly - thanks to you all for the lovely anniversary wishes. Brad and I had a great time. We actually spent the night in a downtown hotel and had such a relaxing and peaceful time. We bought some filters for the camera and did some Christmas shopping and just enjoyed BEING together. Thanks again for all your kind words - we're looking forward to another 17 years.

And now . . . . looky, looky what was waiting for me when I got home tonight.
This lovely box of goodies came from Deb R. over at Red Shoe Ramblings. See, last week she had a little ole' writing contest and surprise of all surprises, my little entry pulled in the most votes from the very kind and generous audience of RSR. I debated whether to show this gift booty to you because now I KNOW there will be tons more competition the next time she does one of these little contests (which she has promised to do) but it was just too fun to keep to myself. I was really only expecting the awesome quilted postcard right in the middle, but she sent a haul of other fun foofy stuff that was just the icing on the cake! The prompt was to either write a sex scene or write an excuse for not writing a sex scene for your new novel. (Can you guess which one I chose?) The trick was that you had to include the following things: pink fuzzy handcuffs, the DVD of the Happy Days episode where Fonzie jumps the shark, a rubber chicken and a bird named Trixie. (Do you see the post-its in the picture? Deb wrote "Trixie" on them! Too funny!) If you want to read all the great entries in this little contest, click here (don't worry - they are all PG-13 and under).

And more gifties - here's what the teachers are getting from my kiddos this year. I found this heavy duty stone-ware mugs in awsome colors for $1.99 each! I get such a rush from a good bargain like this! We filled them with tea bags and gourmet chocolate bars from New Seasons that had gorgeous pictures of endangered animals on them. Wrapped in celophane and with a bow, I think they look pretty darn sweet. Hope the teachers and helpers enjoy them!


















On to the tags. I've been severly delenquint - Bonnie tagged me over two weeks ago and Roadchick tagged me earlier this week. To avoid the potential rep of "Tagger Procrastinator" in the bloggosphere, here goes . . . two tags for the price of one.

First Bonnie's. 10 great things that start with the letter "X". (Bonnie advised me that I get a "mulligan" on this one and can use words that start with "ex" also - phew!)

1. Xmas - Life is crazy busy again but I'm really TRYING to slow down and enjoy some of the pleasures of the season. Had two celebrations yesterday with my lovely ladies that I meet with on Tuesday mornings and it was a delightful day celebrating the special season we're in.
2. Extensions -Not the hair kind that look like something died on your head while you were napping. The grace filled allowances that we are given when we're running behind. I really value these when they are given.
3. Ex-boyfriends - I know, you're thinking, "Is she nuts?" Most people don't always have great relationships with their exes - mine married one of my best friends. Twenty years after he first took me out on a date, we consider this couple some of our dearest friends. We love the fact that our middle school daughters are fascinated and grossed-out by the fact that we used to be a couple.
4. Extinguisher - My nickname at work. I like to put out fires for others when I can. A twisted super-hero complex rooted in low self-esteem issues, I'm sure!
5. Excitement - I'm sitting here typing and watching the finale of "The Biggest Loser". The winner lost over 200 lbs. He's one excited dude! It's contagious to see someone so happy for doing something so positive.
6. Explanations - The natural learner in me wants to know the hows and whys of the world. I used to love to just leaf through the encyclopedia sets when I was a kid and start reading about new places, concepts and ideas.
7. Xylaphone - heard some players at the Saturday market a few weeks ago. I love the instrument on its own.
8. X-rays - these miracle machines help people get better from their big time owies.
9. X-Files - one of my favorite all time TV shows. I like a bit of the dark and twisty, especially when it comes with a handsome FBI agent named Fox Mulder.
10. Exhortations - who doesn't love a well crafted compliment. Especially when it comes in written form. (You are all so intellegent and you look thin in that outfit!)

Five bad things that start with X or "ex":

1. Expectations – when these are out of whack they can lead to disappointment and even some nasty, draged out arguments.

2. Explosions - never a good thing.

3. Examinations - the annual kind and the school kind

4. In American Slang, "X" can stand for the drug "ecstasy" - nasty business.

5. X-rated films - Saw one as teenager and have wished so many times I could turn back time and NOT see what was on the screen that night. Really not something I EVER would wish to see again.

Phew! Now, on to Roadchick's tag. Six strange and weird things about me.

1. I am deathly afraid of mice and rats. The other night at the hotel, I heard a strange noise and convinced myself that there was a critter in the room. I hardly slept at all. I KNOW there was nothing there (it was a really nice hotel - not the furry critter kind) but I whipped myself into a frenzy about it. Last winter we had a little furry visitor that would leave tiny brown messages under the sink thanking us for the garbage buffet being left for him every night. I litterally shuddered every five minutes until that furry critter was caught and disposed of by my big, strong, manly, mouse-killer of a husband.
2. I turn pink when I drink. (Thanks to my friend Wendy for that little rhyme.) My cheeks flush like an alcoholic lush after just one glass of wine. Blame it on my little English Grandpa who does the same after a pint at the pub. I could never be a closet drinker - everyone knows when I've opened a new bottle of chardonay.
3. I hoard office supplies. I don't steal them, but I like to save them for special occassions. I bought a Costco pack of post-it notes and I still use them very cautiosly and with great reservation. Likewise, I'll buy cool stationery and other office stuff and it never gets used.
4. I do the same thing with candles. And bags. And purses. I really need to live a little, don't ya think? That or clean my closets, one or the other.
5. I'd really rather do just about anything other than cook. I really don't like it. The only pleasure I get out of it is when I don't ruin a dish and waste the ingredients. I love to watch cooking shows, read cooking magazines, and even entertain, but just not cook. Good thing I married a mamma's boy who hung out in the kitchen growing up.
6. I'd rather speak publically in front of hundreds of people than dance in front of a dozen. I feel like Eileen in the old Seinfeld episode with my body twisting and turning in spasms and contortions that make others cringe in horor. (OK - I'm probably not that bad, but that's the picture I see in my mind if I think of joining the sexy coordinated folks on the dance floor.) It's safer for all involved if I watch from the sidelines most of the time. I'm a sucker for a good slow dance with my sweetie though, but what girl isn't?

OK - that's it for now troops! Thanks for hanging in there with me and if you want to try your hand at these lists, consider yourself tagged.

A Special Day

Today, Brad and I are heading out to do some Christmas Shopping for the day. I love this kind of day - Brad, not so much. He's such a trooper though! We're headed to downtown Portland to enjoy all the sights and sounds of Christmas while we hunt for the perfect gifts. It should be a perfect day (except for the rain that has decided to come back after a welcome hiatas). We're going to see a movie and have a nice dinner out as well. A real treat in this busy season - a whole day together - alone!

Seventeen years ago I had a very different December day. The morning was crisp and cold but the sun was shining. Not a raindrop in sight. It was a day filled with people - about 300! No being alone on that day. It was the day my life changed in dramatic and wonderful ways - the day I married my true love and started a chapter in my life that continues to keep me amazed at the blessings that have been dropped into my life. I still remember the way Brad made me giggle when he whispered a funny joke to me while we were lighting our unity candle. I'll never forget how handsome he looked in is slate gray tuxedo with tails. His smile, his embrace, the kiss. One of the best days of my life.

Happy Anniversary Sweetie! I love you!

Sad news . . .

We've all been keeping one eye or ear on the news here in the northwest over the past few days. We were elated when Kati Kim and her two children were rescued after being stranded nine days in the Southern Oregon wilderness. Unfortunately, out of desperation, Kati's husband James set out on foot Saturday to go for help.

Today we heard the sad news that James did not make it. He gave his life for the safety of his family. Frankly, I'm overwhelmed with the sadness of it all and I've done a bit of whining to God today over this sad development.

"God - seriously? You would take this man, really? Right before Christmas? And knowing that his wife and daughters survived? Seriously, God?"

I shake my head, wipe the tears away and marvel at such love. The love of a father for his family. A love that would do anything to save them. The same kind of love that God has for his children. A love that can't be bound by the limits of our understanding of this fragile existence in a broken and tragic world. A love that says, I have a plan and I will care for my children. I pour the truth of that promise on a broken heart today as I try to lift up prayers for a mom who faces challenges she hoped she'd never have to face in a lifetime and for her precious children, that they will know the love that their father held for them and that it will sustain them through their lives.

If you'd like to leave a message of condolence for the Kim family, you can send them an email at a link found here. They had to close the online guestbook because it had so many entries. I slipped mine in right before it closed and there were already over 5,000 messages. I hope that these carry some comfort for the family. Please keep them in your thoughts and give your own loved ones an extra hug tonight in honor of James and his family.

Falling of the edge of the earth . . .

Sorry if it seemed that way. I didn't intend to take a week off of blogging. It just kind of accidentally happened that way. I'm still here. Unlike my bloggie buddy Amber who was holding her nose to the grindstone and studying like a mad-woman for her big exam yesterday, I have no real excuse for going an entire week between entries. I do seem to find myself working on a few time-sensitive projects in areas of life - work, family, friends, etc. That and hauling the Christmas stuff out of the attic trying to whip the house into holiday shape and it's enough to put a gal off her writing game.

Deb - I haven't written off the challenge that's due tomorrow (ha! pun not intended but pretty darn funny, dontcha think?) but the pink fuzzy handcuffs have me thrown for a loop. (I thought they were pink fuzzy slippers and had that all crafted into the story and the handcuffs just won't work in the version I had written in my head! Back to the drawing board!)

Bonnie - I haven't forgotten about the "X" word challenge and I promise to get to it this week. Well, I'll try to get to it this week. Don't hate me if it's maybe next week . . .

Laini & Megg - I loved the prompt this week for Sunday Scribbling. It set off all kinds of fiction ideas in my head. I'm going to try really hard to get one posted by Tuesday. I can't wait to get some time to read what other Scribblers have written.

And all my other friends, I've been reading your words even though I haven't been leaving as many comments. This was just a really odd week and I'm looking forward to getting back into the blogging grove next week. Gah! Look what happens when you fall behind, people! No more blogging breaks for you miss "embroider the silence"- back to work!

Sunday Scribbling - Nemesis

There are very few people in this world that I really don't like. Or ones that I thought didn't like me. Maybe I'm blissfully naive and there's actually a whole network of people out there that I have annoyed or made murderously angry with my bad habits of indecision, tardiness and overuse of my silly catch phrases like, "on the flip side" or "What were they thinking?" or "Seriously?!" There was one point in my life though when I knew I had a nemesis - someone who was out to destroy me and have me carted off by the men with a one way pass to the padded presidential suite of Hotel Nutso.

She was the designer we hired to help us draw up plans for our remodel a few years back. We'll call her Telulah (her name has been changed to protect us from any google searches that might connect her and her profession to my hometown - the last thing I need is a libel suit from this lady). Telulah came highly recommended from our friend in the remodeling business. He would hire her to design his addition if he was doing one. He warned us she was a bit "out there" but she was extremely talented.

She showed up for our first appointment and right away I knew she was different than anyone I'd ever met. She was petite and wiry (all the better to climb in your attic and check your rafter configurations) and had hair that was dark brown, blond and grey all at once. And the hair had a life of it's own. It didn't really flow down her back, it more spilled - not in the glorious heroine of a Harlequin novel way - but like someone tipped over my yard debris can after I had been doing spring pruning and branches were spilling out everywhere. The hair was coarse and wiry, like it gave up on being curly in any way years ago, but still just didn't want to lie flat. And so it seemed to go in all directions at once. She had a thin face that looked like it was barely wide enough to accommodate cheek bones. Her eyes were a bit buggy, with long, pale eyelashes. My daughter put it best - "Mom - I don't mean to be rude or anything, but she looks kind of like a witch would look if she was trying to look normal."

Indeed her birkenstocks and fleece vests and lilting soft voice had us all fooled at first. She took measurements, she listened to our ideas and excitedly added her own, she oohed and ahed over our garden and gushed about the potential for our little ranch to expand to meet our needs. We were sucked into her magical trance and before we knew it, we had a meeting to review preliminary drawings with her and were handing over a check for her to do the complete engineering and architectural drawings for our 700 sf addition. Her eccentricities seemed charming but harmless.

Further down the road, the truth started to emerge. Phone calls asking the same questions over and over again. Measurements needing to be taken again. Missed deadlines. Failures to coordinate with truss companies, my carpenter, the county for permits all just about drove me into a mental tailspin. On one particular afternoon when we had met at the county offices to submit the final drawings for approval so we could break ground and start the project, she was talking circles in ways that I swear had me closer to the mental edge of the cliff than I have ever been. At one point I looked at Brad and said, "I swear honey, you are going to have to do this and deal with her or I'm literally going to go postal here in the county offices and ruin all our lives because I'll be in jail for murder tomorrow." Thankfully the man knows a crisis situation when he sees one and he turned on the charm he uses daily working in a profession filled with the female gender and had Telulah back on the road to sane conversations and building permits within a few minutes.

I remember leaving that appointment and walking with Brad to the car and saying, "Why is she doing this to me? What have I done to her? Why does she hate me? She is driving me crazy! I just don't know if I can do this!"

In hindsight, I think that God used this woman to prepare me for the somewhat flaky and unreliable folks that were going to step into our lives in the next few months as we embarked on the building project. As my friend Dan says (he's a plumber himself), everyone in the construction industry is either mentally ill or chemically addicted to something. And I can say in no uncertain terms, that none of the contractors that came after Telulah was as bad as she was. As much as she was a nut job and a nightmare in some ways to deal with, she did do a phenomenal job on our plans and we had many comments from inspectors and contractors that hers were some of the most detailed and professionally done plans they had seen. So fortunately, my trip to crazyville complements of my nemesis, was worth it.

To read more about nemeses (is that the right plural?), go here.

The only thing missing was a glass of wine...

The further I travel down the path of this thing called "blogging" , I am amazed at how it shrinks the world around me.

Yesterday, I spoke to a young moms group at Laurel Community Church about the topic of guilt in mothering. I posted a few nuggets from my talk in yesterday's post just thinking it would be nice to share a few of the pearls of wisdom I gained in all the research for the talk. Imagine my surprise to get a nice comment from Devra Renner, the author of one of the books I used as a resource for my talk.

Devra co-wrote the book Mommy Guilt with her sister, Aviva Pflock and a friend, Julie Bort in response to their own experiences with the expectations and ups and downs of parenthood. Devra and I exchanged emails last night and eventually ended up on the phone with one another. I felt like one spoiled chick as she graciously answered my questions about the research for the book, her experiences as a mom, her career as a writer, social anthropology, Judaism and so on, and so on, . . . it was quite the phone call! The poor gal lives in the Washington D.C. area and I kept her on the phone until 10:30 pm my time. There's kindness for you! I felt like one spoiled little girl having my very own book club discussion with the author. The only thing missing, was the glass of wine! (Well, I'm not sure if Devra had a bottle open on her end . . . the way I talked her ear off, I wouldn't be surprised if she felt like she needed a drink when she hung up the phone.)

Devra was so gracious and kind and I'd like to give her and her website, Parentopia, a big bloggie shout-out and encourage all of you who are parents to visit it and take a look. Thanks again Devra, for the wonderful discussion!

Passin' up a ride on the guilt train . . .

Woo hoo! My talk is done and the women were so lovely and gracious. I spoke at the Laurel Community Church MOPS group this morning (mothers of pre schoolers) about mommy guilt and doing battle against it so it doesn't take over our lives. I'm so hopeful that they were encouraged to be more gentle with themselves when they experience feelings of guilt. For any of you interested, here are a few of the more interesting nuggets from the talk. And for my friends who aren't moms, some of this stuff is very applicable to ANY relationship that we might have feelings of guilt (spouses, siblings, parents, friends).

- Guilt is the generic label that we as women apply to the "stew" of our negative feelings. It's much more P.C. to say we feel guilty than to say we are angry, frustrated, confused, discouraged, grieving. These words, especially ones that might convey anger seem to carry a moral and social stigma if you're a mother.

- Calling these feelings guilt shifts the blame to ourselves rather than assigning responsibility to any one else.

- Ask a man about his feelings as a parent and he will rarely use the word guilt. It seems to be a word assigned to women and their relationships with other more than men.

- Women have been made to believe that their significance must come from one line of work or another. Trends in culture, media, and the voices of "child experts" have raised the bar of parenting (or any relationships) to such high levels it's difficult to feel successful and easy to feel guilt.

- The choices we make about big issues can cause us guilt. It's a blessing to have so much information about some of the decisions we face, but along with that can come feelings of doubt and inadequacy when we make decisions that are different than those of our peers.

- There is tremendous pressure that our decisions will make or break our children. Our western culture is very child-centered. Our culture has created an industry on telling mothers what they should do and apportioning blame for when they fail.

My basic advice to these women to fight the guilt?

- Name and own our feelings so the root issues can be dealt with. Why do I feel inadequate? Why am I angry?

- Give up the ideal of being a "Perfect Parent" focus on being a "Good Enough Parent". One that teaches our children that it's OK to make mistakes and models forgiveness.

- Recognize you are different, your kids are different, so your parenting (relationship) experience will be unique. Don't make parenting a competitive sport.

- Reject the conventional wisdom an d stereotypes of stressed-out parenthood. It doesn't have to be that way.

- Realize that kids will most certainly do things we don't want them to do. They come into this world with a little thing called "free will". It's not our job to control them, it's our job to teach them how to make their own good choices.

Over the past 12 years as a parent, I've found myself often drowning in those feelings of guilt that I just wasn't doing enough. With all of the outside voices of the culture we live in and my own insecurities, it's easy to get sucked into that parenting style. One of the things that has really kept me grounded is my faith and the promises that I have from God's word that I AM good enough and the answer isn't always to DO more. I read the moms the verses in Luke 10:38-42, the story of Mary and Martha.

Martha was consumed by the work that had to be done to host Jesus and the disciples at her house. Mary spent her time at the feet of Jesus listening to his teaching. Martha says what is in all of our hearts at one time or another (PARTICULARLY around the holidays), "Lord, don't you care?"

The great news is that he does! He wants to lighten our load, not add to it. A great message for young moms and for anyone.

Thanks to you all for your kind words and encouragement. It was a good morning - and yes - my head cold let go yesterday afternoon so I was able to speak this morning without having to stop and blow my nose!

The snot monster is in the building . . .

The Sunday Scribbling prompt this week is "hero". Right about now I could use one that will kick this head cold in the bootie!

Head is throbbing, nose is running, eyes are aching and I've just spent six hours straight at the computer working on my talk for Tuesday to a group of young moms looking for hope and answers to why they struggle with guilt. I feel inadequate, overwhelmed, frustrated and find myself hoping that another major storm might blow in and bring a tree down on my car so I won't have to go anywhere for the next week. I want to hide from their searching eyes and I want to really say to them - I don't know! I'm in this struggle myself and don't know the answers.

But God is good. He'll provide. He will heal. He is enough. I'm resting on that tonight.
He's the hero that will come to my rescue, just as he always does.

Good night friends.

Refreshed

Hello friends! Thanks for stopping by. There was a momentary panic last night when I tried to open my blog and all that showed up was code on a white screen. I switched to the Blogger beta thinking that might save me and - voila - it was back online. But I think something was screwy with my blog this weekend, so thanks for hanging in there with me.

It was a good weekend. I did get away, leaving the house at about 8:30 am Saturday and returning at about 5:30 pm Sunday. The time away was good. Good like a peaceful, cozy, warm fuzzy robe kind of good. The time was spent in quiet, freedom, peace, reflection, writing, thinking and relaxing. I started my morning downtown at one of my favorite places in Portland, the Saturday Market. It's a place my dad used to take me as a kid and I love the noise, the smells, the food, the sights of this magical place. It was a wonderful way to be inspired creatively for the weekend. I was able to share a lunch table with a delightful young gal who just moved to Portland from Michigan. She was one of the street musicians who gave the shoppers a lovely soundtrack to the morning. Visit her myspace site at to hear her and find out about her local gigs.

Then I had a great opportunity to chat with the husband of this incredibly talented photographer. I'm so excited to be on her email newsletter list and hopefully glean some new skills and techniques as I get more familiar with our camera. I bought this print in a card and just love it!

I walked uptown and spent some time browsing and shopping in Macy's (ack - I miss Meier & Frank) and Nordstroms. Came away with some bargains on Kenneth Cole & Liz Claiborne jewelry and it was bonus time at the Clinique counter. Unlike most times when I'm buying my basic Clinique supplies to get the freebies, I actually got a friendly and very helpful sales person. Usually, they turn their nose up at me when I buy the minimum amount, but this gal was a sweetie and I actually handed over my money with a smile because she had treated me so well.

The weather last week was a bit dicey here in the northwest, and another storm was due to come in on Sunday so I decided not to go too far from home for my night away. I stayed at this lovely little hotel in Lake Oswego and had a terrace off my room where I sat in the crisp sunshine of the afternoon and watched the sun drift to the water's edge in the late afternoon. (This is my self portrait on the deck of my room.) The hotel was older and the floors and ceilings carried a lot of noise, but it was exceptionally clean and the staff was very friendly and the view was lovely.

Within walking distance was a village of high-end boutique stores (fun to window shop), a Peet's Coffee Shop (good for a couple of hours of study) and some cool restuarants for dinner choices. Had a yummy tomato basil soup and salad for dinner with calamari appetizer and a glass of white wine. Read my book and just relished the time where the only words needed were "thanks" each time they brought food or filled my water glass.


In the morning I went for a long walk, worked for a few hours and then got myself cleaned up before checking out at noon. Had to attend a memorial service at 2:00 pm for a family friend so killed a little bit of time by driving to Tualatin's Bridgeport Village. Had my first trip to a Whole Foods Market and what an experience. Talk about sensory overload! So many choices for a quick bite to eat - about 4 different counters that you could order different kinds of food from. And the groceries - wow! So many choices and healthy options. And if that wasn't enough, back in the bakery was live music. I browsed incredibly ornate pastries with the Beatles' "Blackbird" being picked on a guitar and sung by a fellow sitting by the dinner rolls. What an experience!

For me, the memorial service in the afternoon was a lesson in how not to live my life. This man was remembered for being a "giant" in his industry. For loving sports, especially baseball and golf and for being an incredibly lucky gambler. Very little was said about his family and most people agreed, he was rude, insensitive and cold to most people. The phrase, "But that was just how he was," was repeated over and over. So sad. He wasn't one of my favorite people in the world, I'd agree he was usually cold and rude and brusque in manner, but very little was said about the tender heart he had for his kids and grandkids. It was good to see old friends and catch up with them, but I felt a little jipped out of an afternoon where I could have carried on the momentum from the weekend. I was the good daughter though, I made the family happy (my parents) and I think my presence mattered to the grieving family. Sometimes we just need to bite the bullet and do what's right, even if we'd rather do something else.

So thanks for sending the good thoughts and prayers my way! I'd highly recommend that if you can, get away for a break now and again - even if it's only for a few hours. It's such a good way to recharge your batteries. Better than botox - that little line between my eyebrows - gone after the night away! And coming home is so sweet - Brad and the kids had made me a chocolate cake and were waiting with big hugs. Mmmmm . . . life is good.

Friday Flashback

The forecast this weekend is for rain (surprise *snark*) and wind (hmmm - could be interesting). In fact, one local weather forecaster is whipping himself into a frenzy about this "wind event" that could be coming our way. He's saying things like "damage" and "significant" in the same sentence. G-r-e-a-t.

This was the weekend that Brad and I had set aside that I could go away by myself for a little "me" time. I have two talks coming up in the next month, one for a young moms group and one for my Tuesday morning women's group and some writing projects that I wanted to work on. The original plan was for me to go to the beach, but the recent heavy rains and the forecast for more heavy rain has made me wary of going too far from home. So it's likely I'll stay close to town this weekend. Besides, all I really need to get some work done is a quiet hotel room ANYWHERE with a coffee shop nearby.

All this buzzing about a potential windstorm has made me thing about our last big windstorm here in Portland in early December of 1996. One of the managers at work was a real weather nut and he knew this was going to be a big deal so he sent us all home early that day. I went to pick up my daughter at daycare and remember feeling a few gusts that shook my little Nissan Sentra like it was a toy. By the time I got home, we had already lost power. I put little N. in her room with the blinds open and it was light enough for her to play while I rounded up candles and flashlights for the evening. While grabbing candles out of my china hutch, I watched a rickety portion of our old fence fall to the ground like it was made of popcicle sticks.

After a while, little miss N. started to get bored. "Mama - can I watch Cinderella?" I had explained to her earlier why we couldn't turn the lights on but she was only 2 1/2 and didn't really get that the t.v. also ran on electricity.

I patiently explained that we couldn't watch Cinderella while the power was out. "Why don't we have power?" she asked.

"Because there is a big windstorm right now sweetie. Look outside at the leaves blowing."

"Mama - can we ask God to stop blowing. I really want to watch Cinderella!"

It was a very loooooong evening with a toddler who just couldn't understand why God wouldn't want her to have electricity so she could watch her beloved Cinderella. The power was out until the next morning but we were the lucky ones. One of my co-workers lost power for five days.

I'm hoping this wind event is a little less extreme. I'm all for the excitement of extreme weather every once in awhile (as long as folks don't get hurt) but I'm going to ask God to keep the power on this weekend. Being alone in a hotel room with the lights out doesn't sound like much fun!

Have a great weekend everyone! Hold on tight!

Lessons from the October Blues

I realized after I wrote my October Blues post last week, that I had made a promise to you all that I wasn’t sure I could keep.

After spilling my guts about my frustrations with the firing of one of our pastors and my decision to confront church leaders on what I saw as a real failure to communicate in an honest, real and respectful way, I promised to share with you all what I had learned through the process.

To be honest, I feel a bit like I led you on. You see, from reading your blogs (my bloggie friends) and to most people in the world, if I make a list of the things I learned through this process, there will likely be the collective uttering of, “Duh!” in the blogosphere. The things I would share would probably be concepts that many of you learned long ago and you might wonder, “Sheesh! Does this gal live in the real world?”

Well, yes, I do live in the real world, and I probably knew many of these lessons before this experience but, like a lot of life’s lessons, and certainly the ones that God seems intent on teaching me in my life, I often need the remedial classes to really “get it”.

So here’s a few thoughts on what I learned/re-learned through this process:

Lesson #1 - It’s really hard to go against the grain of your personality, even when you know it’s a good thing. I think about this with people who suffer abuse or addictions. It’s so easy for those of us who are not living in that world to throw solutions their way, “Just leave him. You don’t deserve that. Just don’t smoke that. Just say no.” Easy. Makes sense. A no-brainer, right? But if your history, your life story wasn’t written that way, if your soul and being aren’t wired that way, it’s not that easy. I would say that my life story, my heart, my soul, my desire and drive in all I do is that everyone would just get along and we avoid conflict at all cost. I grew up in a home where I heard my parents raise their voices to one another – oh, let me see – maybe 4 times in 18 years. Now, I’m not naïve, I know they fought, they just never did it in front of us. My story is one of always seeking to have everyone just “get along”. Raised voices are like fingernails on a chalk-board. I hate conflict.

I knew I needed to express my disappointment and frustration with the events going on at my church, but it was like scaling a craggy, dangerous mountain to get beyond the thoughts of, “You’ll be labeled – troublemaker, complainer, divisive,” even knowing that I had a legitimate base for my concerns. There was fear of damaging relationships with people that I love and consider family. There was fear that I would be misunderstood, judged, demeaned or criticized behind my back. All things that may not intimidate stronger, more outspoken people, but things that sounded worse than a physical beating to me.

So, with strength and determination that came from my heavenly Father, my husband and I believe from the great lessons and months of support of my bloggin’ tribe, I moved forward in spite of the fears and insecurities. The lesson? It was hard, the outcome wasn’t what I really wanted , but I know in my heart that it was the right thing to do. I have no regrets and I know the next time will come just a bit easier with the seeds of courage that were sown through this experience.

Lesson #2 - I learned that I need to make sure that I raise my children to trust themselves and not be crippled by fear when they need to speak up, take a stand, or ask the important questions. Recently, my daughter was having some struggles with one of her soccer teammates getting quite critical and bossy with her during the games. I could see that N. was getting flustered and upset by the constant badgering. The mama bear in me wanted to roar and tell this bully to leave her alone, but the voice of experience (and maybe wisdom?) said, “Let her work this one out on her own.” I want my children to be peacemakers and examples of humility and service as I believe we are called to be, but I don’t want them to be doormats. Because of my personality and my upbringing, I need to be more intentional about encouraging them to stand up for them selves.

Lesson #3 – Even though you are incredibly passionate and convicted that your point of view is right and correct the powers that be, may not agree. If you read my first post, you know that my concerns didn’t get my pastor his job back (not that I was really expecting this). The frustrating thing now, is that even though it’s been over a month since I turned in my letters, no policies or procedures have changed to prevent the communication gaps from happening in the future. I had three meetings with the three “big dogs” of the church, but there’s been no actions taken in response to my concerns. I’m struggling a bit with the whole, “Well, that was a waste of time!” response. I KNOW it wasn’t a waste of time to write the letters and have the meetings, but it FEELS a bit like a waste of time at this point. I know it’s important though to speak up so that when they are ready to listen, there is a voice to be heard instead of just silence.

Lesson #4 - There is a big difference between being heard and being understood. I think this is a lesson I can use as a wife, as a parent and as a friend. How easily do I slip into the patterns of, “Just hear them out so they will go away.” I’m not implying that this is what the pastors did to me, just saying that if I had multiple folks coming to me with complaints this would be an easy pattern to slip into.

Lesson #5 – Relationships are hard. (Here’s where you all say, “Duh!”) Even the ones with those who share the same tenants of faith that you do. I’m so grateful for my church family, and yeah – I feel a bit betrayed, stung, hurt and angry about this whole situation, and it would be easy to cut and run to the shiny, pretty church down the street and start over with a whole new family, but - I’ve made a commitment to these people. They have heavily invested in my life, my husband’s life, my children’s lives, as I have invested in theirs, and I’m in it for the long haul. Just like a marriage – we will have tough times, we won’t always get along, there will be times when I want to wring their necks until their eyeballs pop out of their head because I feel like they just DON”T GET IT. But I love them. They are my dysfunctional, imperfect, geeky, frustrating, brothers and sisters and we are all so blessed that we share a faith in a God who can love us in spite of all of the crap in our lives. If the Mighty God, Creator of the Universe can put up with them and love them, why shouldn’t I?

Well friends, hope that didn’t sound too preachy or sappy (listen to me, can’t even share my own lessons without a disclaimer so no one is offended). I wish I could have just a bit of the salt and vinegar that runs through the veins of my blogie friend, Amber. Then I would be able to tell you, those are the lessons I learned and if you don’t like them, you can go to . . . Oh, there’s another lesson – next time, have Amber ghost write my letter for me!

Blessings all!

Sunday Scribbling - Morning

I had grand designs to write a brilliant fiction piece for this prompt, but the inner critic is on a rampage and has convinced me the story needs more work before it sees the light of bloggerdom. Determined NOT to miss ANOTHER Sunday Scribbling, I'll humbly offer this vanilla flavored, hastily written, safe, benign look at my recent mornings. And we'll hope the inner critic goes on vacation soon. Very soon.

Friday morning.
I knew I didn't have to go into the office so decided to sneak in 15 extra minutes of sleep - it wound up being 35 minutes and the morning was off to a rushed start. The young man was already up and greeted me with, "Mom - I learned a lot of stuff watching the news this morning!" How long had he been up? "Did you know you can live to 100 if you do Tai Chi?" Great. Milk. Waffles. Syrup. "Boy! Girl! Breakfast is ready!"

Everyone made it out the door to school and now it was time to relax. My first morning off with no husband, no kids, no responsibilities in weeks. Ahhh. Hot cup of tea. Morning Newspaper. Bliss. Phone call from a friend. Catching up on my favorite blogs. Watching the fluffy part of the news. Rachel Ray and her quirky show all about a guy's birthday. A quick trip to the church to drop off some photos and then lunch at my favorite salad and chowder joint. A great morning!

Saturday morning.
Sleepy - rising early after a late night visiting with my nephew and niece-in-law. They came for a quick overnight visit to spend a little time with us and the kids. They are my favorite houseguests! They are so helpful and love spending time with the kids and talking. Breakfast was yummy pancakes made by the Mr. with my favorite - crushed pecans in them. We were off early for soggy, windy, cold soccer games where I got to watch my kiddos shine as they both worked with their teams to push to victory. Both sets of grandparents, their favorite cousin and his fantastic wife cheering them on from the sidelines. The kids literally glowed with the praise and attention. It was an awesome site to see. A real morning of memories for us all.

Sunday morning.
A restless morning. The dog paced around early but didn't want to go out in the rain for a potty break. I was up early but still tired. Fell back asleep on the couch and dreamed high-stress dreams. The back in college, missing homework, looking for centerpieces for 75 tables for church event, scrambling to finish major writing project kind of dream. Woke up feeling mentally exhausted. Needed to be at the church to help set up and take pictures for a retirement celebration. A rushed morning and my daughter decided to act every bit of her "tween" self and flip me attitude about leaving them at home alone. I drove away in my car wishing for a relaxing morning where I could sip my tea, read the newspaper and watch the pouring rain from my living room instead of driving down the highway with knots in my stomach. Deciding that a cup of tea could be at least enjoyed on the road, I stopped at a grocery store with its own Starbucks inside. My $1.30 cup of tea was rung up at $1.75. Wrong morning to do this to Mama G. I gritted my teeth and in the kindest voice I could muster, I explained to the grocery store, Starbucks barista wanna-be I would NOT be paying $1.75 for one tea bag and some hot water. I think she recognized that look in my eyes that said, "Really - you don't want to mess with me over $.45 or someone's gonna have to face the wrath of one very cranky gal who's walkin' on the edge of control here!" She quietly looked down at the register and then timidly pointed to the sign which showed that a "tall" tea was $1.35. I figured the safest thing for everyone involved was to pay it and hightail it to the car, so the immediate threat of meltdown was averted.

It was on to the retirement gig where I was just off all morning. Only about half of my pictures turned out and I feel like a giant goofball walking around with a camera around my neck snapping pictures like I know what I'm doing and seeing the end result and thinking, my 9-year old probably could have done better. Grrrr. This was not a morning I'd want to do over again.

It seems in the phenomena known as "mornings" they are either really good or really bad. Why is that? Is there really no in between? Would I trade the good and bad in for a guaranteed "ho-hum" every day? Probably not. Because when a morning is bad, you at least have the hope that the rest of the day can get better. And when a morning is really good, the whole day is golden.

October blues . . .

So, my friends. Here we are. November 2nd.

Deep breaths. In. Out. In. Out.

Thanks to all of you who have been so kind to visit during the past few weeks when my blog posts were a bit moany and groany about how busy I was. And those of you who are still visiting even though there have been dry deserts between my posts. Thanks for sticking in there with me. And please know that even if I wasn’t commenting on your blogs, I was sneaking time to read them as much as I could.

But this is a new month. Things are slowing to a much more reasonable pace at work, with the kids and just with life in general. And I’ve missed this. I’ve missed writing about more than just what is on my calendar. I’ve missed doing the kind of writing that stretches me, challenges me and makes me honestly express what’s going on inside though the gift of words.

So here goes . . . (excuse me as I climb back in my saddle, pick up the reigns and click my tongue at my creative self with a “giddy-up” old girl . . .)

I’m glad it’s November. October is my least favorite month of the year. A close second behind September. They are both crazy busy, but the difference is that October always seems to bring heartache and sadness with it. It started back in 1986 when my first serious boyfriend broke up with me in October. I spent a good portion of the month depressed, sad, angry and feeling very un-loveable. I was a freshman in college, still trying to find the me that was freed from the stereotypes of high school and overwhelmed by the new adult realities that lay before me. It was a bad month for me. Eventually the young fellow and I reunited, only to break up again the next October. Again, more heartbreak, sadness and tears as I realized this was it, he really wasn’t the “one”. (Happy sidenote: The fellow ended up marrying one of my best friends and we keep in close touch with them. They are so dear to us and I’m so thankful that we kept our friendship through everything that happened when we were young and stupid.)

There have been car accidents in October, lay-offs from jobs, and a fatal illness that took my Grandmother a few years ago. Nope – not a real fan of October. When I turn the calendar on September 30th, the superstitious British girl in me wants a drawer-full of good luck to ward off the October bad mojo.

But, I’m not a girl who really believes in luck anymore. I’m a girl who believes that a loving and powerful God watches me, protects me and walks beside me through the hardships of life no matter what month they come in. I’m his precious child and He’s never closer to me than when I’m hurting and crying out to him for help.

This October – the trial – de jour was one I didn’t see coming. (Okay – don’t know enough French to say “of the month”. Tara of Paris Parfait – maybe you can help me with this one?) This one hit me in the gut like a surprise sucker punch. I spent the month working through the news that my church was “releasing” (aka “firing”) a pastor that had played a significant role in my ministries. The letter that announced this decision was a frustrating example of not considering the needs of the audience when written and left me feeling like my parents had just told me my brother was moving out and now could I please pass the potatoes? What the heck?

This pastor had served faithfully for 16 years and was being let go because of philosophical differences, not a moral failure or even not meeting the requirements of the position. The announcement came at the end of a “state of the church” letter and in my opinion, the brief sentences offered just did not honor this man’s (or his family’s) sacrifices over the years. I would have expected my reaction to be, “Bummer – but I know he’ll be fine. Not my problem. He’s a great guy, extremely gifted, talented and passionate about ministry. He’ll find another job." That should have been it. But no; this news gnawed at me, kept me up at night, brought me to tears on more than one occasion. I just couldn’t get away from the intense feeling, that as the church, God’s church, we’re just not doing this right. There’s has to be a better way. A way that honors the authority of the senior pastor to choose the staff he wants but a way to express to the family of God – this is painful, and it’s okay to feel that pain, acknowledge it and honor the decision without dishonoring anyone’s service to God.

So came intense times of prayer, talking with God, writing letters, re-writing and re-writing letters and finally getting up the courage to send the letters to the senior pastor, executive pastor and chairman of the elder board. Now, think for a minute friends. I’m a ½ breed proper English girl with a mother whose mantra was, “Don’t make a fuss.” This was so out of my comfort zone, I couldn’t even find my comfort zone on the map! To make matters even more challenging, during the month I was invited to have follow-up meetings with all three of the “big fish” to talk about my concerns. As a gal who has chronic leaky eyeballs, these meetings were a challenge to keep rational, stick to the points in my letter and not just yell, “You’re all just being really mean!” It was during this time that I wished I could have the super-powers of draining my tear ducts before meetings so I could come out feeling like an adult and not an adolescent.

Well in the end, the pastor is still “released”, I felt like I was listened to and even “heard” on a certain level by the powers-that-be, but I’m still not convinced that the true heart of my concerns were understood and will be addressed so that policies and procedures are in place to make sure communications that go out to a mailing list of 1800 will be reviewed to consider the audience to which they are trying to reach. I guess only time will tell. It was an exhausting process which seems silly – it wasn’t like a life-threatening emergency or me losing my job, but for a gal who hates making waves, it felt like swimming across an ocean.

Well, this post is getting pretty long, so I think I’ll save the rest for tomorrow. I wanted to talk about “voice” - how the events of the past month have influenced what I think and how I feel about my voice as a woman, as a professional, as a follower of Christ, as a human being, as a writer, but I don’t want to scare you all off on my first real post for weeks.

Thanks again to those of you who have encouraged me over the past few weeks. You are all such a blessing to me!

Crazy boys . . .

Oh, to be young and have this much time on my hands!

Spasmodic.

Peekaboo . . .

No - not really hiding. Not on purpose anyway. Just busier than all get-out with a three week "conference" going on at work.

Great events. Great people. Lots of details. Late nights. Hope for the world. That's what it's been about.

And gift baskets.


Here they are in all their glory. Inside each was:
- Stumptown Coffee
- Nike hats
- Saltwater Taffy
- Stash Teas from India
- A glass etched Stash Tea mug
- Moonstruck Chocolate Bars
- Roasted hazlenuts, chocolate covered hazlenuts and hazlenuts with dried fruit
- Homemade Biscotti
- Homemade photo cards (thanks Michelle at Full Soul for that idea. Yours will be in the mail to you as soon as you send me an address!)


The concert was Sunday night and the band Caedmon's Call gave us a wonderful show. The musicians were so gracious and thankful for the little touches we put into the "green room" to make them feel more at home. There was fresh, line-caught, smoked Chinook Salmon, Salmon spread, fresh apples and pears from the local farmers' market, a wonderful dinner made by the catering staff at Sunset Church and Sparkling Pinot "Spruce Goose Juice" from Evergreen Orchards in McMinnville. Mandy Mann, and her husband Kevin were the opening act and she went above and beyond by filling in for the absent lead femal vocalist of CC who was home with very sick kidos. They were all just so kind and humble and - well, normal. They obviously love what they do and they are passionate about making a difference in the world. The concert offered attendees the opportunity to hear the plight of the Dalits of India. They are the people of the lowest Hindu caste and face enormous social and economic persecution. Tables at the concert were set up with pictures of Dalit children needing sponsorship to attend special schools set up by our partner organization and that evening, a record number of child sponsorships were collected. How great that our efforts and work provided not only a fun evening for people in Portland, but a real chance at hope for children half a world away . . . It makes the tiredness I feel this week much easier to bear.

Thanks to those of you who have asked about the blog and keep checking back despite my irregular posting lately. It will get better. I promise! In addition to the busy work schedule, I've been faced with some pretty heavy personal challenges lately. Nothing earth-shattering or tragic when compared to the events of the world, but some things that are causing me to ask hard questions about some of my beliefs and practices and how I communicate with others. All great fodder for the blog entries, if I can just keep up with the rest of life and make the time to write it down.

Blessings to you all!

Slogging through

Sometimes life feels like a muddy field.

Here in Oregon, many families have a great tradition of driving by the Christmas tree lots and heading out to one of the many Christmas tree farms to cut their own tree for the holidays. Often, the grounds are wet with weeks of November rains and the mud is thick. It grabs hold of your old tennis shoes, or rubber boots, whatever you've suited yourself up with for the battle. Sometimes you win, you find the spots that have grass or straw covering them and that little bit of vegetation breaks the pull of the mud. Other times, you mis-step or you are so busy looking for the perfect tree, your foot falls just right in a soupy, sticky spot that seems to pull at your foot with a force you wouldn't expect.

No - I'm not ready to talk about Christmas yet. I'm talking about mud. The sloppy, sticky, stuff of life we need to walk through to get the prize. That's where I am right now. Looking for that beautiful, perfect, lovely piece of something but getting stuck in the mud in the process.

It's been a tough couple of weeks. My mind is consumed with preparing, checking, searching, researching, tending, running, sitting, talking, listening, fixing, driving, doing. What I'd really like to do is look up from the mud and see that gloriously perfect life that I'm working so hard for be waiting for me with golden adornment and tropical vacation in hand.

I'd really like to rest. But for now, I'll keep on. Slogging. Through the mud. Because I know the perfect tree is just over the next hill. Really. It will be.

Won't it?

You won't see this in Vogue . . .

The perfect new accessory for fall . . .


The wonderbird Keeko - part time pet, part time fashion icon.

My bloggie-friend Deirdre is starting a new fun weekly writing prompt called "Teaspoon Tuesday". Her topic this week is what would we do with a million dollars. Here's my top 10 list.

1. Buy a new, nicely loaded min-van for hauling kids all over the town.
2. Buy a big screen tv for my honey to watch his sports.
3. Buy some nice dark jeans that flatter my body like Clinton and Stacey always talk about on "What Not to Wear" and not look at the pricetag.
4. Buy my friend Ruth a super-sized fridge. (The woman has three sons and packs her fridge with food like the cartoon closets that look like they will collapse if you pull one item out of them.)
5. Sponsor a Dalit Education Center in India for lower caste children.
6. Walk the streets of Portland and hand out giftcards to the homeless.
7. Make a substantial donation to the Arab Baptist Seminary in Beirut, Lebanon to assist families (Christian and Muslim) who were displaced by the 34-day war.
8. Take my family to the following places; Nashville, TN (to visit family); York, England (to visit family); Disneyland; Disneyworld; Hawaii; Mexico; India and China.
9. Make donations to organizations and causes close to my heart. Northwest Medical Teams, Mercy Corps, American Cancer Society, Special Olympics and my church.
10. Pay off my house, but still live there. I love our house and our neighborhood! I think I would opt for new furniture and maybe a kitchen remodel. :)

What would you do if you hit the jackpot? For more Teaspoon Tuesday, go here.

Life's a Dream?

The wind is blowing here today and it's one of those glorious fall days where the sun is shining, the air has a crispness to it and leaves are starting to drop from the trees. Truly picturesque. Makes me want to grab the camera and go out taking pictures. Maybe I just will (after I catch up on some of your wonderful blogs in this few minutes I have before soccer carpool).

Well, I tried to do Sunday Scribblings this week. I'll post it at the end of this post but won't link it because I'm tired of always being tardy. In fact, I had a dream about that last night. Anytime my life starts edging up the crazy scale, I start having dreams about school. I used to have these horrible dreams that I had to go back to junior high or high school as an adult because there was some gross error and I never really passed all my classes. I used to think these dreams were all related to the fact that I didn't finish college and they stemmed from some deep sense of failure. I know that one doesn't need a college diploma to be successful, but I think a part of me always felt like I let my dad down by not finishing. Well, when I went back to school a few years ago and finished my degree, I really thought my nights of dreaming about school were over.

No such luck. The dreams certainly eased off for awhile, but it seems that whenever there's stress in my life, I revert back to the "late for class, missing homework, missing a schedule, can't open my locker" kind of dreams. At least last night, for the first time, I was dreaming that I was in college again. I feel sort of good about that - like I've graduated in a sense. Could it just be that my subconscious starts laughing hysterically when I try to put myself in junior high or high school in my dreams. "Ha! This chick is WAY too old to walk the halls here anymore. After all, she has a REAL daughter walking the halls of a middle school now. Bump her up to the college dream thread - same pressures, just a different campus with people closer to her own age." I'm such a freak sometimes. OK, most of the time.

So being a parent of a middle schooler is going well. (I'm crouching as I write this, waiting for the sky to fall.) There are some issues we're working through. Like the whole, "Did you remember your books? Your PE clothes? Your soccer gear? Your fees for your classes? Your lunch? Your lunch money? Your homework . . . " Gah! That kid has a lot to remember and she's not always the best at that task. She's doing pretty good, but the one thing we are working on is fully brushing her hair as opposed to the obligatory 4-stroke effort she seems to think does the job. Her long hair tends to get knotted just under the surface in the back, just far enough around that she has trouble reaching it and therefore, thinks it must not need brushing. For some reason, this drives me absolutely INSANE and I'm constantly asking her to brush it again and in true mother/daughter fashion, half the requests end up in a raised voice, a rebellious stomp or tearful pout depending on our moods and which number request we're on. Is it really too much to ask a 12 year old brush out her hair? I hate obsessing over this because my mom was always very critical about my hair and frequently told me, in public, how bad it looked. I am trying so hard NOT to be my mom in this area but I really just have a visceral, physical, blood-pressure through the roof, kind of reaction when she goes out with the chronic bed-head look. So all of you out there who have kindly commented on my parenting skills and thought that I might just deserve "Mother of the Year" honors, you'd better scratch my name off the list, because I think this pretty much disqualifies me.

Ahhh . . . feeling better now that that's off my chest a bit. Thanks ya'll. Oh - and thanks to everyone for the great suggestions for the gift baskets. My good friend Cheryl (who is an awesome floral artist) took me to "market" on Friday here in Portland. Did you know that there are shops where floral designers buy all the cool stuff they use for parties, weddings and other celebrations for much cheaper than we buy it at the local craft store? It was a real treat wandering the aisles and seeing all the very wonderful, creative tools and goodies out there for making pretty things. We found great baskets, filler and other fun things to decorate the green room at the concert (Caedmon's Call - October 22nd - in case you missed my last post). I'm really getting excited to meet these talented artists and see the concert process from the view of the green room (OK - not as one of the band or a real technical groupie, but as the gal who is going to try to make it cozy and yummy with lots of NW goodies - I'll take what I can get.)

This post is getting too long, so I'll post the Sunday Scribbling exercise tomorrow (or soon . . . how's that for being non-commital). Gives me a little time to polish it up a bit. Take care ya'll!

Ideas Wanted

My workplace is hosting a variety of events in the next few weeks with a global focus. One of the events is a concert by Caedmon's Call, a group who is working with organizations around the globe to promote equality for all people groups. Specifically, they work with one of our partner organizations, Dalit Freedom Network, promoting justice, education and social freedoms for people of this persecuted caste in India. We are so excited to have them here in Portland on October 22nd.

So here's where I need you my friends. I'm responsible for putting together gift baskets for their hotel rooms and the "Green Room" at the concert venue. What would you like to get in a gift basket if you were an internationally known band promoting causes like social justice, compassion and helping those in poverty have a real chance at improving their lives? Keep in mind, we're a non-profit so there won't be any Rolexes or I-Pods in the baskets. What kinds of foods, crafts or other items from Oregon would be nice to have with you to remind you of your visit here? Any ideas? I'm hoping that your creative spirits will inspire me with just the right items for these baskets to make them feel welcome and appreciated. Thanks for the help!

Gratitude Thursday

Well, I’m still living in Crazytown this week, but after the whiny tone of my last post about the G-homestead, I thought I’d try something different. I’ll take a page from Ms. Oprah and other wise souls and make my very own gratitude blog post.

Today I am grateful for:

One of my major writing and design projects for my job is done and in the mail. I have been blessed by some very nice complements from my co-workers on the piece and even though I see the parts that I’m not happy with and the places where I thought I could have done better, I’m trying to be truly thankful for their kind words and accept their kind words gracefully. It’s hard, my nature is to not believe people when they tell me they like what I’ve done. I don’t know why I’m so jaded – I think it’s the inner critic in me that says, “They’re just saying that because they feel sorry for you.” Or, “They’re just saying that because they don’t want you to feel bad.” Which, when I start walking down that path, does nothing but make me feel bad. Gah – I think I’m going to name my inner critic the White Witch, like the one from “The Chronicles of Narnia” and picture myself as Susan piercing her evil heart with an arrow shot from my magical bow. (OK – I know Peter kills her in the book and the movie, but I’m SO Susan in all my doubts and fears – so I’m going to be the one who shoots her when she starts criticizing me with her ice cold silvery daggers of doubts. My critic, my revenge.) Anyway – I’m thankful for all I learned doing the project and that it turned out presentable.

Mark – the bulk mail guy at the post office who patiently answered all my questions and then praised me for a job well done when my totals all matched up on our 1500 piece mailing. The guy is just a gem!

My darling husband. He’s fighting a nasty infection that has lodged itself in his foot and is making it almost impossible for him to walk. The poor guy feels horrible (physically) and keeps apologizing to me. I have a keeper here folks. Please pray that this will heal quickly as he’s really miserable.

My little lady. She had her first Middle School dance tonight. I can’t believe I just typed those words. I remember dancing with her in the living room to The Little Mermaid when she was about 2 and a half! Thankfully, when I picked her up today, there were no tears or frustrations about boys not asking her to dance, only a peeved young lady that one of the teachers broke up a perfectly good Conga line because there was too much “touching” going on somewhere in the line. (Thanks Mr. C.) We've had some great discussions lately about the issues that go along with growing up and I'm so grateful for her obedient heart and teachable spirit. Don't know how long this will last before the real rebellion kicks in but I'm grateful for this for now.

The boy. The young man is so creative and expressive and bright as the sun is hot. But sitting down and doing worksheets – definitely not his idea of a good time. The little guy has been stepping up the efforts on the homework though and has had a great attitude about it this week.

The schedule is easing up. I have actually been able to be home a few nights this week. Hooray! I cleaned a particularly nasty cupboard of arts and crafts supplies last night and started weeding through our books to get rid of some that just don’t make the cut for ones I want to read again, ones I might pass on to someone, or, ones that were so profound that they will never leave the walls of this house without me. It feels good to be in my nest. Speaking of nest . . .

Keeko the wonderbird. She is settling in and the loud fits of chirping and singing only seem to be happening about 2-3 times a day. The rest of the time, she seems quite content. Brad has been great about this little feathered one as he was not really crazy about the idea of expanding our family. I think if Keeko keeps on her good behavior, she’s secured her immunity for the time being.

Good TV – Studio 60, Gray’s Anatomy, The Office. Yay for new stories, great writing and the gift of laughter.

You! My blogging friends (and even the lurkers who aren't leeaving comments - you know who you are *wink*)! You all have been so encouraging in your comments and kind words. They are like a cool shower of blessings during the dry times when all there seems to be is duty and obligation. Thanks Michelle for the nice compliment on my flower pictures - I've actually thought about making some into cards. When I get a chance to work on them, I'll email you and find out where to send some!

Thanks for stopping by everyone! Please leave me a note in my comments of some of the things you are thankful for today. If you can't think of anything, let me know that too, and then I'll lift up prayers for you this week. I'd like to do that for you as I know that others have done that for me during the dry times in my life. Thanks again! Really . . . thanks!

Sunday Scribbling - Instructions

Inspired by Jenny who had a wonderful post about really short stories and Tara who had a wonderful little Scribble this week, here’s a mini-Scribble. It’s a bit “dark and twisty” for this mom from the burbs, but it’s the one that has wrestled itself to the top of the brainstorm heap and was the tough bully among them that said, “It’s my week this week”.

The gas can thumped against her leg as she walked back to the car.

With each thump she could feel her heart starting to slow down from the frantic pace of earlier in the night.

She wasn’t an evil person. She didn’t want to hurt him, even if he deserved it. But he did have to face the consequence of his actions.

She put the gas can in her trunk and traced her steps back from where she had come. When she saw the slick glimmer on the pavement in front of his driveway, she stopped.

God - why does he love that thing so much? she thought. It’s old and ugly and the seats have springs poking through the cushions. What is so important about that old truck? Why does he love something like that and he can’t love me?

The answer was in the palm of her hand. Not the answer to the question, but the answer to this pain she felt tonight.

In white letters on a red background, "Close cover before striking."

For more Sunday Scribblings go here.

Don't call the police . . .

Dear friends,
Yes, I am still alive. No need to contact the FBI, CSI or that cutie-pie on the new show "Kidnapped". I am in that special pergatory, h - e - double toothpics part of being a parent called "September". This past week had three back to school nights, five soccer practices, a heavy workload and the start back to my responsibilities as a small group leader for our weekly women's meeting at church. All that plus gobs of laundry, errands, feeding the rugrats, keeping them on track with their homework and shuffling through the mounds of paperwork sent home in backpacks has kept me out of the bloggosphere.

And I miss you all! I feel like I'm spiritually and creatively dragging for lack of my "fixes" from your incredible blogs. Please know that I'm hoping that this weekend I'll have a chance to catch up on your entries and hopefully put something thoughtful and insightful on this little 'ole blog.

But, because it's still September, don't anyone hold their breath too long.

Sunday Scribbling - Research

Well, there's nothing that will send you googling quicker than a orphan pet finding it's way into a household. So all the great ideas I had for doing research on North Africa, Breast Cancer, my favorite place in the world - Fountains Abbey, Organ Donation - these all took a back seat to my immediate need to know how to feed and care for one very lovely little Peach-faced Lovebird that moved in today.

About two weeks ago we lost our lovely neighbors across the street. Well, they're not really LOST, like freaky magnetic island in the middle of nowhere lost, but moved to another part of town, lost. We loved this family and had become good friends with them and enjoyed exploring the different cultural differences in our families. The mom had a hobby of raising birds and my daughter had spent many hours at her house watching her care for the many birds. She gave us this lovely gift today as she's expecting her 4th child and is trying to pare down her extensive bird collection so she can focus on her family.

So Keko (keeko) joined our family today. We are struggling most right now with what to call it. He? She? Did you know that the only way to definitively tell the sex of a lovebird is to have it's DNA tested? Okay, maybe it's just me, but that could really stink if you were a lovebird trying to make a love connection. Just how do THEY figure it out? Hmmm . . . write that one down to ask the Creator someday . . .

Mrs. N gave us a wonderful supply of bird food but tonight I learned that lovebirds also need a variety of fresh fruit and vegetables. Tonight Keko dined on birdseed, broccoli and banana (we're nothing if not fans of alliteration). I also learned that avocados, rhubarb leaves and apples seeds are poisonous to birds.

Lovebirds love their toys. They need to chew and toys made of leather, rawhide or natural substances work best. They don't necessarily like to be alone so tomorrow we're going to try to get a mirror so maybe we can convince he/she there's a buddy right next door. We let her/him out of her/his cage for a bit of a stroll around tonight and he/she seems content with her/his new surroundings.

The real unknown is the noise factor. That could immediately earn Keko a ticket on the next raft off the ark if he/she tries to start revelee too early in the morning. The research says that these can be noisy little birds if they don't get enough attention. We're hoping that the kid's fascination with little peach-faced Keko holds out and they can sufficiently tire out the little critter so it sleeps in until a descent hour each morning.

I'll try to post actual pictures of Keko in a few days, but for now the canned google image above lets you see how cute the little guy is. Or girl . . .