One Glorious Game

(John, that wonderful IT man, fixed my camera/computer thingy so I have pics of Noah!)

The boy loves soccer. At 9 years old, Noah is tall and thin and fast. Perfect for running up and down a grassy field chasing a black and white ball. For the past year and a half, or 3 soccer seasons, our son has played on the same team with same coach. (Every season some kids leave and some kids join.)

In those 3 seasons, Noah’s team has always lost more than they have won. But they have always won a few games so he has never really been upset about the team record. He just loves the game.

His attitude changed a little a week or so ago.

See, at the time, the Wildcats’ record was 2 ties and 3 losses. 0 wins. So during our bed time prayers, Noah asked God for the following:

“Father, please let us win one glorious game.”

John and I laughed but then echoed our son’s request. At the time, there were 3 more games. The next two were losses. Again.

So then came this past Saturday.

Just as Noah had prayed 2 or 3 times every day, he repeated Saturday morning before breakfast. “Please God, just one glorious game.”

On the way to the game, I encouraged my boy with “Noah, really want it today! Be Scooby when he’s chewing up a toy.”

John added, “Get the bunny, Noah!”

Noah growled like Scooby.




We arrived at the park, the scene of several crimes (our soccer victories had been stolen) and one ridiculous blizzard soccer game. (See my post on April 29)

John and I set up our chairs and Noah joined his team for warm up.

On the field, a soccer game was nearing the end. We sat and watched and couldn’t help notice a tiny, sweet-looking grandma yelling in an incredibly loud Darth Vader-venom saturated voice, “CHALLENGE HIM! TAKE IT AWAY!”

John and I glanced at each other and chuckled. We love to cheer but neither of us have the killer instinct. It’s not that we don’t want Noah to win. It’s just that we are realistic. We understood losing to the Dominators and the Street Fighters, but when we started losing to teams like the Panda Cubs, the Hello Kitties and the Nice Kids, we saw the writing on the wall. It kind of felt like the Baton Death march with soccer balls.

We played one team that had 9 kids, no subs for an hour long match. We had 17 and still lost 5 to 2. We get it. We see the big picture. In fact, on this Saturday, our team is warming up while the other team, knowing that they are playing the Wildcats, are sitting in a circle eating pie.

Noah has not picked up his parents’ cynical, sarcastic sense of humor…yet. His attitude is great. John and I would’ve faked massive knee injuries 3 games ago. Noah just wants to play ball.

So Saturday’s game begins.

12:10 – The coach’s daughter scores a goal. 1 – 0 Our team and all the parents celebrate as if we’d won the Super Bowl. It is our first lead of the season.

12:25 – Another player scores. 2-0 This time we parents just look at each other with questioning glances that say, “Dare we hope?” or “Are you seeing this?”

12:29 – Noah breaks away from the pack, ball at his feet and dribbles down the field. Could it be? He’s past mid line…Oh, sweet Father in heaven, dare I pray, where is the camera? He’s nearing the goal…
The ref blows whistle for halftime.

Halftime – Silence. We parents aren’t sure what to say to each other without using our normal phrases of “Next time” "Good effort" “This half” or “We was robbed!”

12:45 – The other team inadvertently kicks the ball backwards into their goal. We’ll take it! 3-0

I keep looking at my watch. They could still come back. They’re Tigers.

12:55 – Noah once again is near the goal with the ball. He gets closer, closer….
Oh, almost!

1:00 – The whistle blows! The Wildcats and parents of each aforementioned Wildcat go crazy wild! They won! They did it! John and I cheer and yell our boy’s name. He looks over at us and holds up his index finger with a big ‘ole smile!

Victory at last! We all partied like it was…well…ONE GLORIOUS GAME!

Funky Town

Brandy

He gives and takes away,

He gives and takes away,

Blessed be the name of the Lord.


Feeling funky today. Funky is defined in Iobst’s Dictionary as “Unable to label one’s emotions. Distinctively ambiguous.” Adjective.

So I feel funky. When good and bad hit at the same time, I spend some time in Funky Town, which has nothing to do with the 70’s. Today, I think I sit here feeling funky because I just don’t get God. I don’t. No surprise there. I never understand Him or His ways. No one does.

Let me explain.

Everyone talks to Jesus or God in their own way. I try to keep an open line to Him throughout the day, but we have a set time each morning for a chat. I go through some prayers and then sit and listen, often just meditating in silence. Then I open up my prayer journal. I have a page for each person or situation I am praying for, so I sit and flip pages praying for whatever God has laid on my heart.

One of the things I have prayed for the past three weeks is “merciful weather in our world.” I felt I was supposed to start praying for this and then guess what? Myanmar, China, now tornadoes everywhere including a town called Windsor, Colorado near me that was devastated. Okay. I am not God and I am not in control. I am just called to pray. I get that. But, yeesh. Right after I felt led to pray for merciful weather, thousands upon thousands of people are wiped off the earth in bad weather? Yeesh.

So then, I hear about Steven Curtis Chapman’s youngest daughter being accidentally killed. Yikes. She was five. Then a friend from San Diego calls me and tells me she has breast cancer.

See where I am going?

John and Noah and I happened to have a BLESSED weekend. Lots of joy and laughter and then John and I bought a bed. The kind where each of us get to set our own number of comfort. We have wanted one of these forever. But we just never had enough expendable income to justify the purchase. Now we do. What a blessing to be able to get rid of our 12 year old bed. Other stuff happened that made Memorial Day weekend delightful.

So I am having a mix of emotions. Everybody does at times. But here is the kicker.

A while back, I posted on my blog a call for prayer for Brandy, Joey and Laura. Brandy needed a lung transplantation and Joey and Laura were going to donate parts of their lungs for her. The operation, in November, was successful. A week or two after the surgery Brandy walked for a mile – the first time in her life.

I know Joey and Laura very well. I have never met Brandy.

So on my page marked Brandy, I continued to pray every day. I never heard anything more about her nor did I ask. I just assumed she was healing up and starting her new life with new lungs. When I came to her page I would pray things like “God, give her a great day.” or “God, show Brandy new things she can do.” I have done this for months.

Last Thursday, I came to her page and asked “God should I keep praying for Brandy? She is probably out there having a great new life as a 20 year old girl who can breathe well.” I heard very distinctively from my Lord, “You don’t have to pray any more, Robbie. I got her.”

So I put a big check mark in the corner. When I flip pages if I see a check mark I just keep going. God has released me from praying for that person or situation anymore.

Yesterday I got a wonderfully written and heartfelt email from Joey. The subject line read: EXHALE.

Brandy died last Thursday.

How does prayer work? What is the point exactly? Am I just talking to myself, flipping pages? Futility about life led me to Funky Town. Here I sit.

But I know the truth. The truth that does not waver like emotions. The truth that God is God and He is bigger and more complex than anything I can ever ever imagine. The truth is that God uses prayer. How? I don’t know. Maybe He uses prayer to mold ME and my heart to just want to hang out with Him more. Maybe He uses prayer to lessen pain or thwart evil or spread good.

I don’t know.

But I do know that He gives and He takes away. Blessed be the Name of the Lord.

My last prayer for Brandy, this beautiful girl I will never meet? “Father, make all of Brandy’s dreams come true.”

If I believe, truly believe in the God who has this exquisite eternity planned for all of us then that prayer was answered. Brandy is living her dreams right now, dancing with Jesus, breathing freely and fully.

Funky Town won’t last. Faith will buy me a ticket out of here pretty soon. But for right now, I sit with ginger peach tea and a laptop.

And I wonder.

The Joy of His Pleasure

I love the movie “Chariots of Fire.” Whenever it crosses my mind, my first thought is the scene of those athletes running across the beach and that distinctive song in the background…can you hear it?

One line from the movie is among my absolute favorite lines of all time from film. The only two that could top it are “Merry Christmas you ole broken down Savings and Loan” and “I’m not crazy M’Lynn. I’ve just been in a very bad mood for forty years!” Can anyone name those movies?

Anyway, the line from Chariots of Fire I love is spoken by Eric Liddell to his sister. He is explaining to her why he MUST run. He says, “God made me fast. And when I run I feel His pleasure.”

I love that. That is exactly how I feel when I sit at my computer and tap away. The Spirit sits with me and gives me the creativity it takes to write the next word or line. The process is such a rush. Of course pushing through those moments of writers block is something I must do to continue the course. It would be easy to quit. But I would miss this. I would miss feeling His pleasure! I believe with all my heart that God gave me a talent and a love for writing. So here I am, trying to get better at the craft and trying to let the Lord lead me.

What a great blessing it is to know and truly enjoy other writers. My writing group, Words for the Journey Christian Writers Guild, has been a gift from God to me. He knew that the expertise and encouragement in that group would propel me to becoming the writer He wants me to be. He knew that they would tell me all about the Colorado Christian Writers Conference and encourage me to go.

I did. I loved it.

And here’s the good news from the conference! Two agents asked for my proposals and so did one editor. Woo-Hoo! Also an author who I respect told me I was a gifted writer. Yep, he used the word gifted. Writers notice things like word choice. :0)

It was a great conference with lots and lots of laughter. I stayed up late (for me) and laughed until I cried. The fellowship was absolutely priceless.

If you have read my blog each day this week, thank you. I have never blogged every day and so it has been a new challenge for me. I have a new found respect for those of you who do blog every day. Next week I am back to Tuesday and Thursday!

Here’s to you and your dreams, your times of successful obedience and waiting and your moments of rejection, acceptance and jumping off into the arms of God.

Here’s to you finding something in your life that gives you so much joy you Have to keep doing it. Why? You feel His pleasure!

The Jumping Off Place

Ever have one of those days where you just can’t seem to get a firm footing on how you feel? Yesterday I woke up a bit annoyed with the world. Don’t know why. I got tired later and took a nice nap. Still felt annoyed. Did my chores, wrote a little, picked up Noah and took him to his soccer game. Prepared dinner. Still felt edgy and tired and even a bit enraged. Poor Scooby. When he wouldn’t poop last night on our walk, I became angry with him.

“If you poop during the night, I am going to be furious with you, Scooby.”

I am sure he heard, “Blah, blah, blah Scooby.” But my tone communicated no treat.

So I went to bed. Couldn’t sleep.

I have dealt with night fears in the past and so John has a habit of waking up to pray for me. It’s like he has developed a sixth Godly sense of when I can’t sleep. Or maybe it’s because I kick him occasionally, hoping he will wake up.

Last night he woke up.

I whispered, “Will you pray for me? My spirit is…well, I just feel like jumping off a cliff.”

This is where I expected my husband to pray, “Father, give Robbie joy.” Or “Help Robbie to not jump into depression.”

Instead, my sleepy husband prayed softly, “Father, catch Robbie.”

It kind of woke me up. Catch me? You want me to jump? He then said “I love you” and promptly turned over and went back to sleep. I almost giggled out loud thinking that maybe this was my husband’s true subconscious feelings coming out. Maybe he wanted me to jump to my death. I envisioned scenes from Hitchcock’s “Vertigo.”

Yep, I know. Quite an imagination, Robbie. Or at least a neurotic one.

But then the Spirit of God starting working on me.

”Father, catch Robbie.”

Maybe I should jump. Maybe that was exactly what God wanted me to do. Just jump off the cliff of CONTROL.

My friend Kay talked to me the other day about that state of wanting to be “okay” all the time. In fact she said to me, “I am learning it is okay to NOT be okay.”

I felt so attacked yesterday. When I sat and really thought about it, it stemmed from someone trying to comfort me after the conference. I didn’t like that they were trying to rescue me. I had a great time and got great news. Sure I got rejected but that is what goes with writing. But this dear sweet person wanted to make sure I was “okay.” There it is again. “Okay.”

I’m okay.

I am OKAY.

I’m OKAY, ALL RIGHT! Leave me alone.

Well, maybe I am not okay. But what’s wrong with that?

Wow. To be strong became so important to me. See, I don’t want to be needy. I don’t want to give the impression that I cannot handle life on my own. I felt so sick of being around Christians who can’t handle pain accept to try to solve it or pray for it or mollify it with verses. Sometimes, we just have to BE in pain. But many times Christians, including myself, feel the need to jump to the rescue.

Harsh? Yep. But that is exactly how I felt. So much so, that my pride opened myself up to the Enemy’s discouraging attacks. He is so adept at finding the cracks in our hearts and pouring poison in so that we believe the worst.

I love that my husband did not give me a verse to chew on. I love that he didn’t start counseling me. (Don’t get me wrong – the Word of God or good counsel is just what I need most of the time – but not this time.)

He just prayed, “Father, catch Robbie.”

And you know what? I jumped.

I just said, “God, I feel horrible and I need You. I don’t feel okay. So, here I go. No bungee cord on my emotions. I am just going to jump into the abyss of not having control over how I feel.”

God caught me. Hard to explain how that went or felt. But I slept. Soundly. At peace.

I don’t have to explain every single emotion I have to myself. Seems like I waste a lot of time trying to analyze me so that I may know or CONTROL exactly how I deal with each emotion.

Sometimes I just need to jump.

God is a good catcher.

After I wrote this, I thought “The Jumping Off Place” is a good title. But I didn’t know exactly what that meant, although I had heard it somewhere. So I looked it up. It is an idiom meaning “A starting point for a journey or venture.”

Hmmm….

Rejection stings but hope...

“No, I just don’t think this will ever sell. Maybe if you rewrite it as a Women’s Christian Living book, Robbie. And no, you are not ready for me to be your agent.”

Crash.

Kaboom.

I glanced down to see my ego in pieces on the floor. Little jagged bits of dreams surrounded my feet.

“Thank you for meeting with me.”

I arose and shook her hand and left.

The bathroom downstairs would do perfectly for a cry.

Rejection hurts. No matter who you are and how strong a character or faith in God you might have, the wounds of rejection can make a bee’s sting feel like a sweet kiss.

I cried. I ran into three gals from my writing group who all helped me get perspective. Thank you Heather, Michelle and Diane. Jan and Loretta offered soothing words later.

And that’s the antidote for rejection. Perspective and truth. In my case, rejection came with lies. Not from the agent. She gave me her honest opinion and I completely appreciate that with no ill will. But the Enemy was hovering, too, waiting to follow up her comments with some of his own.

“See, Robbie. You can’t write. You are following a hopeless path here. Just give up.”

Earlier that morning I’d sat at God’s feet with a cup of Starbucks in my hand and talked to Him about the possibility of rejection. I had fortified my heart and mind with His truth.

So even amidst the tears and emotions pouring out of my heart, my mind recited the truth of His words.

“Preserve me O Lord, for in You I put my trust.” Psalm 16:1

“I have loved you with an everlasting love. Therefore with loving kindness I will draw you.” Jeremiah 31:3

“You are priceless to me. I love you and honor you.” Isaiah 43:4

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart. Lean not on your own understanding.”
Proverbs 3:5

With the gals giving me loving perspective, and God’s words hugging me with His acceptance, the sting began to diminish. Courage came back.

I met with eight professionals, all of which had somewhat differing opinions. Five of them looked at me and said no. It hurt, but not so much as the first rejection from the agent.

But did you do the math? Three said yes.

In the writing world of conferences, yes means send me your full proposal and then we will see. So rejection still looms. It is part of being a writer. I have received at least 50 letters or emails in the past year and a half saying, “No thank you.”

But perspective – I am in this for the long haul because I am called to write and I really LOVE to write – and truth – God accepts me and never rejects me and I am good enough, smart enough and doggone it, people like me :0) - allow me to wipe away the tears and walk back to my computer.

Any great adventure includes discomfort and pain. But oh my, the joy that goes with risk is truly wonderful!

Rejection stings…but hope soothes.

Get the bunny! (I am referring to my post on April 23 :0) )

The Dance of Waiting

Waiting…
Waiting…
Waiting…

I asked my brother Phil a few weeks ago to help me understand the concept of humility in a new way. He said, “Humility is the act of NOT taking a step into the land until God says go. Pride is saying, ‘I’m ready God. I am going to go.’”

I have been studying people in the Bible lately who jumped the starting gun of God and the consequences are always pretty harsh. Saul lost his kingdom, and Moses didn’t get to see the promise land. Waiting on the Lord is pretty important.

So the writers conference neared and I kept telling God, “Okay God. Maybe I am not ready to have my book published. I don’t want to force this.”

The day before the conference my WFTJ meeting’s topic: Waiting on God.

I get to the conference. The first speaker and pretty much all the speakers afterwards talked about waiting on the Lord.

Okay. I get it, God. I get it!

No, I don’t.

Adrian Rogers once said, “Timing is more important to God than probably time itself.”

The Bible is full of waiting on God verses. My favorite one currently comes from Lamentations 3:24. "The Lord is my portion. Therefore, I will wait on Him."

I like that one because it gives me a reason to wait. He is my portion, my piece of the pie. In effect, He is enough. He will fill me just as I am today, right now, this moment. If I let Him.

But here’s the rub. Waiting is painful. Waiting goes against my way of doing things. When I wait, I am not in control of timing. That is not easy.

In my fairy tale fantasy, I wanted an editor at the conference to look at me and say, “Wow, Robbie. You are better than anyone I have ever read. I happen to have a contract in my briefcase. Can we seal the deal?”

I have a great imagination. Full of vanity.

Instant gratification did not attend the conference. Waiting came to every meal, every class, every appointment.

I left the conference with tremendous hope, but no publishing contract. Once again, I keep walking through this process and I wait. And wait. And wait.

But do I believe in God? I mean really believe in His existence and power? Is He the Living God of my life? If I say yes, then His timing is perfect. My timing is flawed.

So I wait.

I sit at the stoplight and watch the colors and see when God will turn it to green.

The real lesson is how I handle the red light. Do I sit and complain? Or do I take the time to tell Noah a joke or pray for someone or just enjoy the view?

Hmm…

Tomorrow – the joy of acceptance and the sting of rejection…

Successful...or not?

The day before I left for my writers’ conference I experienced a bit of a breakdown. Lots of weeping and panic. My writers’ group, Words for the Journey, wrapped courage around my heart like a blanket and assured me the feelings were normal.

I felt petrified of failure.

I have been to other writers’ conferences but I’ve never attended one with something I believed was ready to sell to an editor. This time I was. I knew, logically, not everyone would like it enough to take it but maybe someone…right?

So I felt calm until my hubby John walked in. He sensed the shift in me and asked if I was okay. Niagara Falls gushed over him and I curled myself up in his arms.

“Maybe I shouldn’t go.”

“Robbie, you have been looking forward to this for a year.”

“Maybe I am not ready.”

John looked around and knew he had walked into a pity party complete with chips, dip and Hawaiian punch.

“Robbie, let me ask you some questions. Did God call you to write?”

“Yes.”

“Did he ask you to submit things and did you?”

“Yes.”

“Did He ask you to get business cards and start speaking and did you?”

“Yes.”

“Did He ask you to start a blog and did you?”

“Yes.”

“Did He ask you to write a proposal for your book and did you?”

I began to feel annoyed.

“Yes. What is your point?”

“What did God ask you to do at this conference?”

“Go.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes.”

Then, precious John gave me three words I repeated to myself at least a hundred times this past weekend.

“Success is obedience.”

He is right. I cannot control outcomes. I can’t. Success isn’t that moment when an editor looks at me and says, “Robbie it looks good. Send me everything.” (Which happened by the way.) Failure is not that moment when another editor looked at me and said, “Robbie, this will never sell. I’m sorry but no, I am not interested.” (Which happened by the way.)

Success is being obedient to the Master of all, the Creator of words and books and the Lover of my heart and dreams.

Success happened for me when I got in the car and pointed my Honda Civic towards Estes Park and chose to go on the adventure God set before me!

Success is obedience! I was successful!

This week I will post every day! Come back tomorrow for more on the conference I attended and the blessings and lessons God gave me…..

Writers Conference starts Tomorrow!

It is time! Tomorrow I go on a mini-vacation up into Estes Park, Colorado, a gorgeous town in the Rocky Mountains. The Colorado Christian Writers Conference will go Wednesday through Saturday. I can't wait to be surrounded by writers, praising God and learning about the written word and how we each can improve our craft.

Because of this blessing, I will not post on Thursday, but I may post extra days next week.

Thank you for praying for me and my time in the mountains!

Mother's Day

When I look at my hands, I see Sally Ann's

Wrinkled like the young bark of a tree

Strong, determined

My mother's wedding ring is the one I wear

An homage to 40 years my parents laughed in love

And lived in pain

I see her hands every day but I brush off

The thoughts they evoke

No time to grieve

No need

It's been 15 years

But here it is again - Mother's Day

I take a purposeful moment and look at my hands

and remember hers

I remember the meals of fried everything she cooked

Lard is an official food group in Texas

I remember the clothes she sewed for me

The gentle hugs she gave me

The way she touched my face when she gave me a line

Of advice she would recite over and over

"You keep your chin up, Robbie."

I remember her last breath

I was holding her hand

Wrinkled like a young tree's bark

Still strong

Still determined

Even though her body was weak

I remember

It's that time of year

Tears of grief are good

I look at my guys - my husband and son

She never met them

But she knows them

Sometimes when I hold Noah's hand, I look down

And I see her hand holding her grandson's

She would've loved my guys

She does love them

Whenever I hear someone complain about their mother

I put on a sympathetic face

Relationships ARE difficult

But inside I cringe

Just for a moment

Don't they know the gift they have?

To be able to hold their mother's hand?

So I will grieve just a little while

And then I will celebrate Mother's Day

I will squeeze my son's hand extra hard

And hope that someday he remembers me

And my hands

The Waltz of Oral Surgery

Today a young Doogie Howser, oral surgeon, removed two of my teeth. He instructed me to take a Valium last night and one an hour before the appointment. I obeyed and felt extremely relaxed when I sat in the chair. My sweet husband loaned me his IPOD and I filled my ears with wonderful Christian contemporary music. At points I also went over scriptures in my mind, reciting passages I have memorized.

It was not a very painful ordeal. But here's the dealio that I love about today. Jesus went with me and asked me to dance. Yep, that's right. During oral surgery I danced with the King of Kings.

The book that I am attempting to get published is tentatively titled "Life with My Dance Teacher." The premis is that my life has been guided by God who has held me and directed me through phases of joy, grief, loneliness, despair and absolute real pain. Using the metaphor of dance, I tell stories of how Christ has taken my hand and taught me the steps to living with Him. He and I dance on a floor of grace daily.

Why not take faith that a supernatural God exists and lives in and around me and add my God given imagination and see life as this wonderful dance with the King? I do. I have for years.

So, there I was today, sitting in a chair that looks like it could be used in a torture exercise, surrounded by two kids in masks, each holding weapons, no surgery tools that will be used to HELP me. It was a situation that could easily invite fear to come in and reign. But I have practiced my faith. Faith takes practice, you know. I have practiced it and sat there, closed my eyes, turned on the IPOD and focused on the lover of my soul. Valium, of course, helped! But when Christ asked me to dance I said YES. I left the chair, (in my mind, of course, people) and I took his hand and we waltzed around the office. When I look to Him, fear leaves. Perfect love, JESUS, casts out fear. So we danced during oral surgery and it was a hoot.

I encourage you, wherever you are, take a chance. Say yes to the dance of a lifetime. You will find yourself dancing during joyous moments where all is well with your world. It is marvelous. And you will find yourself dancing during pain, when all you hear is the pounding of a pick and the deafening vibrations of a drill.

Jesus is Real. He is a great dancer!

Rambling, Rambling, Rambling

So much is on my mind that today I am just going to ramble. Hang on...

Next Tuesday I am going to have oral surgery. My surgeon looks like a seventeen year old. Am I getting old or what? But he prescribed both valium and vicodin for me so all is forgiven...

I spoke today for a group called MOMS club in Parker. Lovely gals and very kind.

I was scheduled to speak for a Mothers Day Tea next week, but it was cancelled due to a death. Very disappointing. Yes, I had that moment. Couldn't we have tea and a funeral? I'm sorry. Selfish Robbie appears at least one hundred times a day. I roll my eyes at her and she scurries away.

Scooby is a bit of a "contraversial figure" in our condo complex. The dog lovers pet him and tell him "I heard about you, killer. Good dog!" While the bunny lovers look at him and then me and say, "Is this THAT dog?" I nod my head and they give me a polite yet oh so hurt look and keep walking. We did not tell everyone about the "incident" but word got around. :0)

Noah is fine again and can't wait for soccer this Saturday. It rained and snowed again today, but it is suppose to be beautiful this weekend. Whatever. I believe nothing.

I feel really badly for those kids in Texas, the ones from the cult.

In 13 days I will be on a "mini-vacation" at a writer's conference in Estes Park. I can't wait to just BE with all those writers!

Last night my husband and son got up from where they were sitting in our living room and did an impromptu dance. I sat, watched and laughed. My life includes spontaneous dancing - I love this!

Did I mention I am having oral surgery? But to clarify, I am not on the official drugs yet, except at night if I am in pain.

Ouch. Well, then...doctor's orders...

Tomorrow night we are having 3 couples over to our house to eat. They all go to our church. Does every woman have these thoughts before having company: We need new plates, no, new dishes and placemats. No, we need new chairs and a new table. Could we rent out a house somewhere so I don't have to vacuum? How bout we meet at a restaurant? My teeth hurt so let's cancel...

An example of my determined mindset: (Okay, my obsession) My brother works with the guy whose family was on Extreme Makeover Home Edition last Sunday. We taped it. I didn't know if Perry, my brother or his family would be on TV, so after we watched it, I told John that they might have been in the bus group scene. So, I took at least 30 to 45 minutes and watched each frame, pausing and scouring the crowd for family. John told me I was a little...cwwaazy. But I was determined. (okay, okay obsessed.) I found Perry though and felt like I had just won the National

Where's Waldo

Contest. I emailed Kasey, my sis-in-law and Perry's wife) and told her I'd found Perry. She emailed back. He wasn't there. What does she know?

Once again, a boy who probably only has a drivers permit will take death defying surgery tools and pull out two of my teeth on Tuesday. I will be armed with God given drugs...

May our Lord bless your day and give you spontaneous dancing, keep your kids safe and out of a cult (or out of a winter blizzard soccer game) and may He give you drugs when you encounter adolescent dentists who are going to remove molars.