"Drop the gun. Bring the cannoli." (Peter Clemenza in The Godfather)

last week was one of those weeks. . . i had a lot schtuff on my plate and i was trying to work through my son's sudden move to California. plus i was living in a bit of mess. . . at one point this month i had 4 love seats, a microwave, a hope chest (now there is a post!!!!), and a gazelle in my living room (no, not the real life animal gazelle. . . the Tony Little Gazelle exercise thingamajig) plus a wide assortment of boxes. you'd be surprised how much havoc one kid moving back home and one kid moving away from home can bring.

i had the domino affect going on too - one love seat needed to go to church (youth group room), one love seat needed to go to one married daughter's home, one Gazelle needed to go to other's daughter's home but couldn't go until she and her husband closed on their new place and moved. the microwave was sent to replace grandparent's unit that was at least as old as the kid that moved out - and the boxes. . . well, the boxes and the hope chest were waiting on closet in the newly vacated bedroom which i didn't want to mess with because. . . well, i didn't want to face it.

in the midst of all that, along came a friend with cannoli. and that was the turning point in my week. not that she brought my favorite Italian dessert - but that Sherry cared.

great dessert, phenomenal friend.

tattoos. . . plural even

i love tattoos. so much of the time they represent a milestone in the host's life. . . a pictorial of a watershed moment. . . a memorial to a person, a pet, a dream.

i was at a beach 9 years ago when i noticed a young woman reading a book while sun bathing. from time to time people walking along would stop and talk to her. she didn't seem to mind the intrusions - she would chat for a few minutes and then dive back into her book. this really intrigued me. was she someone famous? was she selling something? what was the deal with her?

just as my imagination was beginning to kick in i noticed that the book-woman was now conversing with a bunch of people and the conversation was beginning to look like some kind of weird dance. . . an arm was extended, then a another. . . and then another and another. . . what were they doing? then one person turned away from the group and even book-woman stood up and joined the clump. . . then the person turned back to the clump and began speaking for about 3 minutes then a lot of questions seemed to pop up and they were answered with more arm movements and half twirls. . . and then suddenly - i got it!!!

it WAS an interpretive dance troupe involved in performance art on our little local beach. . . how exciting!

nope, it was actually people admiring body art, listening for the inspiration behind the tattoos - sharing bits and pieces, important bits and pieces of lives lived.
it was camaraderie.
it was trusting complete strangers with life stories.
it was fun and deep and as fleeting as the waves on the sand.

we all walked away, not knowing each other's names but having shared a sacred moment where we were not defined by the cars we drove, the addresses of the places we called home, or even the very clothes on our backs. . . we were defined by the shared experiences of loss, and hope, and living in the moment. we were humans connected by ink.

well, they were connected by ink. . . i didn't have a tattoo to show. . . but i knew i had a story to tell.

i got my first tattoo shortly after. a cross that couldn't be taken off and on at whim. a cross that came with a small amount of discomfort - nothing, absolutely nothing compared to what the Savior endured. a cross that reminded me of the cost, the sacrifice, the love of Creator God for humanity.

i know tattoos are not for everyone. . .

but sharing our stories is. . .

what are you doing to share yours?

"think 3 syllables, not 2"

yesterday i wrote or typed the word "Wednesday" a couple of hundred times. . . i end most of my correspondence - email, voice mail, snail mail - the same way. . . "happy whateverthedayoftheweekitis!!!" so yesterday was a "happy Wednesday!" day - hence the couple of hundred times.

i went to school back in the dark ages when teachers were respected and if you got in trouble at school. . .well. . . let's just say most of us got in twice as much trouble when we got home.

i will never forget my 2nd grade teacher, Mrs. M. she was older than my mom, dressed very fashionably, and ran a very tight ship. but she gave out candy rewards for those who did their best. kids who struggled got rewards for working hard even if they if they had trouble keeping up.

most of all though, i remember that Mrs. M helped me learn how to spell Wednesday.

i kept spelling it "Wendsday" in all our pre-tests. i was panicked about it - yeah, i was a strange little kid - so on the day of the test, i cheated. i looked over at someone else's paper. i got it right but it was marked wrong. i looked up at Mrs. M as she handed back my paper. she looked right back and asked me if i wanted to talk about it. she was so kind to me. she walked with me to our cloakroom and knelt down and looked me straight in the eye and told me she had seen me. she didn't yell, she didn't belittle me, she didn't embarass me. she didn't say anything else. i said i was sorry. she took her pen and wrote this: Wed nes day and said "think 3 sylables, not 2."

i am pretty certain i spell that word correctly 99.99999% of the time because as i am writing, i am saying to myself "3 syllables, not 2."

Mrs. M didn't call my mom. in fact, she never brought it up again. Mrs. M taught me more than spelling that day. . .

to this day, i am very grateful for her and think of her fairly regularly. . . oddly enough, mostly on Wednesdays. . .

thank you Mrs. M!!!!!

a book recommendation

i facilitate a women's study one night a week. we are currently discussing the book Prayer and Providence: How Does God Work in the World? by Terrance Tiessen. i highly recommend it if you are willing to tackle a little "academic" theology - seriously, i had to dig out a couple of my theology textbooks and do a little remedial reading.

the book is an interesting read because the author presents a case study and then goes on to explore what different models of prayer look like - including semi-diest, process, openess, church dominion, molinist, thomist, barthian, calvinist, and fatalist. each model is presented with a profile of a person who could be setting next to you in the pew this Sunday - what s/he thinks about God's role in the world - and a prayer that would encompass that person's view of God's role and the current need expressed in the case study.

every model interacts with that original case study so you really do get a chance to compare apples to apples - well, at least apple pie to apple pie.

teaching stuff like this usually scares the bejeebers outta me. i know that i will be called to put my money where my mouth is. . . that is one of the reasons i never teach on subjects like achieving patience, humility and the woman of God, my money is God's money, the perfect home, the wifely call to submission. . .

the journey begins with goodby

well my youngest took off for California this morning. . . this is harder than i thought it would be.

memories of the last 20 years with him have overwhelmed me this week. . .

my pregnancy - i was so sick i couldn't keep much down - my doctor prescribed SNICKERS as meal replacement - what a doctor! (that would probably make an interesting SNICKERS commercial)

his birth - so fast the anesthesiologist stepped out to get coffee, Micah showed up 20 minutes later - so i had no spinal. . . just 20 minutes of ridiculously hard labor. . . lucky i was already at the hospital. . .

his toddler/preschool years - spent making friends with all the emergency room staffs during his numerous visits for stitches. . . it was a very good thing that i don't faint at the sight of blood - i would have celebrated his 2nd birthday with him and then come to after he started kindergarten.

his elementary years - continued the above mentioned friendships with er staffs, watching him grow into his smile while developing his verbal skills "negotiating" his place in our family with his three older sisters. Micah didn't play the expected baseball and football route. . . instead he expanded the parental units' world view with soccer and wrestling.

his high school years - well, let's just say i found myself having to look up to him a lot! he passed me by his sophmore year and then his dad by graduation. soccer and wrestling gave way to tennis and driving and working and a move from where he had spent his most of his life to someplace else. . . not easy. . . he also got his first tattoo! seriously, one of my proudest moments.

post high school - living at home but working and planning for a day like today - when the pull of adventure and countless opportunities can no longer be ignored. . . yep, when a day like today finally arrives and the real journey begins.

i love you, spikeboy. . . always have, always will!

is there anything wrong with being middle class?

ok, i'm just curious. . .

is there anything wrong with being middle class and being ok with being middle class?

although at the present time, i'm not sure if i'm upper lower class, middle lower class, lower middle class, middle middle class. . . but i'm pretty dang sure i'm not anything upper class. . .

let there be light!

well, the last couple of days have been nuts!

our oldest daughter and her husband just closed on their first domestic abode. after being apartment dwellers for the last couple of years, they took the plunge and bought a beautiful, completely remodeled townhouse.

as part of our housewarming gift to them, we offered to paint the master bedroom. the closing took way longer than anyone expected and legally allowed - (my opinion only) - so we didn't even get started painting until that evening with the furniture set to arrive the next morning. dave and i and lacey and micah all took part in the painting. becky even jumped in and grabbed a brush and a roller. i think she was the only member of our family not roped into one of mom's painting projects before now.

dave and i finished up at 1:00 am with what looked like some minor touch-up work to be done. but what looked better than fine in light bulb light, well, it did not look so fine in actual daylight. another coat was needed in many areas and there were a few errant paint drops on the floor. so becky and i spent part of a long lunch and then dave and i spent some time after dinner repainting and touching up. oh, and cleaning up.

side road - one of the best products known to mankind. . . Goof Off - "Everybody goofs up sometimes – which is why every home, garage and workshop needs Goof Off."

this got me thinking about artificial lighting vs daylight and how daylight is much more truthful about the condition of paint on the walls, dust on the end table, smudges on the window. . .
how the opinions of my family/friends on my character or complete strangers i have stopped to help are a sort of artificial light in my life. it's so easy to feel good about yourself and your life when you only look around with the help of a lamp or flashlight. the true test is God's daylight on my life. . . and let me tell you, there are a lot of smudges, dustballs, and 2nd coats needed. . .

i wonder what the spiritual equivalent of Goof Off is. . .