Junior High

While setting my alarm the other night, "How Deep is your Love" by the Bee Gees came through the speakers of my clock radio. I instantly went back to seventh grade and let out a deep sigh.

Seventh grade.

Simplicity.

My day consisted of school, and sitting at the park sipping Icees and spitting out sunflower seed shells from the pile nestled in my cheek. Our homework load was minimal but our conversations were detailed, real, tangible, and centered on friends, and boys we thought were cute.

We wrote our friends letters which were folded in triangular, origami shapes, and signed each one with TTFN and BFF written in ball point pen. The letters were shoved into the ventilation slats on the locker doors and were a welcome surprise to the receiver. I loved getting letters.

If we needed a question answered, or had to decide on a place to meet, the landline telephone was our available source of communication. We sat on the phone for hours and talked incessantly.

Our teenagers have phones they rarely use for talking. Communication with friends is done via text messaging, and Facebook comments. They sometimes e-mail, they never write letters, and telephone conversations are on the go and only as a last resort when the text message appears too lengthy.

I hope that my children don't forget how to communicate with friends through verbal conversation. I hope they remember how to ask questions, and engage others in conversation. I hope they don't overlook the written word - using a pen.

That would be a travesty.

Pedaling Downhill

Our 8 year old likes to pedal down hills. I think peddling downhill is scary, so each time he stands up on his pedals and begins his hasty decent I holler, “Why do you pedal downhill?” He hollers right back to me, “I like going fast!” Within seconds he is down the hill, around the corner, and out of sight. I listen for the crash, but the crash never comes. He’s a professional.

He waits for me at the bottom of the hill. His face is cool from the brisk wind, his heart is pumping, and his mood is high. The adrenaline rush is addictive so he cannot wait to return to the top of the hill, and once again, pedal hard and fast down the hill.

I like to coast down hills. The slow decent is the prize to the grueling climb. I prefer to soak in the success instead of rushing through it. In addition, I don’t like to crash, or hurt myself. Even if none of these were to take place, the fear that I would crash or injure myself keeps me from the escapade. I am not a professional, I don’t need an adrenaline rush, and I prefer using a fan to cool down my face.

Our son loves reckless abandon.

I love order and rules, justice, and all things planned and well thought.

I’m the one who tries to keep everything in neat little boxes, sitting on shelves, each properly labeled and color coded. Perhaps I need some reckless abandon.
I am grateful for the lessons that I learn from our children. They help me slow down and soak in the peace.

Since I don’t own a bike I will not be making any trips downhill as excessive speeds. I will however, learn to allow a smattering of reckless abandon to season my life and trust in God’s safety net.

I'm Usually not this Sassy

Today I ended the afternoon sassy. Not the kind of sassy I have when my girlfriend complements me when I stroll into a circle of girls wearing a fashionable outfit, make up, and high heels. This sassy is the kind of sassy which results in apologies and sulking in regret.

Five days after Christmas and the kids are still asking for things. That makes me sassy. How about you give me back all of your presents and I will trade you for a twenty dollar bill?

The lunch bill tipped the scale at sixty dollars for six people. That makes me sassy. Can't we all just share a meal and drink water?

The youngest didn't feel like taking my daughter's photography seriously and kept smiling like a goof ball. That makes me sassy. He also needed a piggyback ride because he was tired of walking. Sassy.

The dogs stopped too many times to pee. I get really sassy when that happens.

Pictures make me look old so I get sassy. Who am I kidding? Do I really think that I look 30?

My oldest boy takes none of my suggestions which frustrates me and brings out my inner sassy.

My daughter doesn't like the way that I take pictures with her camera. Give me my sassy.

We had a great day. I have so much for which to be thankful. I shouldn't be sassy.

'Tis the Season to be Disappointed

In light of all the celebration and ambiance of the Christmas season, unfortunately, being disappointed is a common feeling around this time. In addition to the disappointment with unexpected gifts, lack of parking availability at the mall, pushy people seeking handouts, and department stores lacking in vast selection of the clothing sizes I need, the end of another year brings to light disappointments with life.

I'm not where I thought I would be in my career. I'm driving the same 15 year old car I thought we would have sold by now. Offers I have pursued failed. Friendships I have promised to keep kindled I haven't. In addition, change for which I have been praying for over a year has not occurred and doesn't seem to be occurring any time soon, and persistence with writing has been stifled with busyness and bad excuses.

Although my disappointment is embarrassing because of the fact that I am so blessed, I'm glad that God is not surprised with my disappointment.

I was reminded this weekend through Pastor Tom Holladay, that my disappointments are God's plan, which again, is disappointing. I also was reminded that God has not lost sight of the purpose He has for my life, which is encouraging.

Joseph and Mary were bombarded with disappointment and this is what I can learn from them:
I need to wait. I need to continue to wait, and wait, and wait. God's timing is perfect. Mary and Joseph had to wait, and it paid off in the end by her giving birth to Jesus.

I need to obey. Joseph and Mary obeyed God and I need to obey God in this season of disappointment.

I need to give gifts to others and encourage people who are doing what they love to do, and who are in a state of contentment and perfect joy. Giving gifts always changes my attitude and helps me to refocus on Christ. Encouraging others has the same effect.

I need to share God's good news. My disappointment by no means gives me an excuse for not sharing what God has done in my life. Satan wants to use my bad attitude to steer me away, but I need to draw even closer to Jesus.

I love what happens in Mark chapter 9 verse 19. The disciples are trying to drive out a demon from a possessed boy and they are unable. When they ask Jesus why they could not perform the exorcism Jesus replies, "You unbelieving generation. How long shall I stay with you? How long shall I put up with you? Bring the boy to me." Even the disciples were disappointed with the outcome of their ministry. However, Jesus knew that their disappointed outcome was a direct reflection of their lack of belief.

When I learn fully to rest in God's faithfulness, my disappointment with dissipate. When I learn to trust in His timing, joy will cover my discontent. When I earnestly seek Him and believe, not for a moment but for the long haul, my bitterness will turn to joy.

I'm grateful that God doesn't get tired of teaching me. I am blessed with His reminders. I am waiting and obeying knowing that freedom and release will come as long as I continue to concentrate on Jesus Christ.

I just need to reminded every now and again.

Her Birthday is Officially Over

There will be no more special dinners or nights out. We will not succumb to her every whim. The gift giving has ceased. Normalcy had returned with a vengeance. Maddi's birthday is officially over, but I love her dearly and would not have changed anything.

Maddi Rose

She's 18. She was just 3 and now she is 18. She has been a dream of a teenager to raise, is a godly girl, loves church, is grounded in her faith, is an amazing artist and photographer, hard worker, and she is 18.

I love watching her interact with her 15 year old brother as they talk music and do homework together. I love watching her confidently sit behind the steering wheel of her grandma's car and drive away to vocal practice. I love hearing about her day and what is happening at work. I love her fashion and artistic style. I love her laugh and the way she attacks difficult situations. I love her passion for serving Christ in foreign countries. I love the way she has grown and developed into a beautiful woman of God.

Though her ID signifies that she is old enough to live on her own, buy cigarettes, partake in purchasing lottery tickets, attend doctor's office visits confidentially, enlist in the armed forces, drop out of school with her GED, get her own checking account and apply for a credit card, she doesn't attempt to do any of those.

She still lives with us and asks that I "tuck her in" and pray with her at night. I drive her to the doctor and listen while they ask her personal questions. I cook her dinner and pour her orange juice. I wash and dry her clothes. I take her shopping and pay the tab. I like that part.

We like each other. We love each other. We understand each other. She is my girl. She is my only girl. She is 18.

Although she is officially an adult she is still my baby girl and that will never change.

Senior Year

The past three years of high school have been a challenge for our oldest, only, girl. The adjustment from a small private school to a large public school proved to be more that she could shoulder and she pressed constantly for us to homeschool her or send her to a smaller institution with opportunities for online education. Her desire for change wavered and we clung to the sides of a boisterous boat in a sea of fluctuating requests.

This, her senior year, was going to be the one that stuck. Her freshman brother was entering which gave her anticipation for change, her friendship circle began to expand, and she finally began to chip away at the wall she had built around herself for three years. She began to embrace her high school. She also realized that there are good people, there are interested teachers, and that she could have fun. Making a go of school from a social standpoint was going to take some motivation.

Attending her first varsity football game in four years was the first step. Spending time with school friends outside of school was the second step. Attending senior activities was the third step, and recently she was voted “most unique” which after some convincing, she realized the honor in this title. No one wants to be exactly like the person sitting next to them in econ.

The pace quickened. She was going to Disneyland with Stephanie from her art class, and became friends with a supportive girl named Autumn. She was talking more and more about school activities and people who she knew, and, after attending two dances at other schools she was going to make her first attempt to attend a dance and her own school. We were thrilled.

Our frustration mounted though, as our daughter returned from school with the information that the third boy she asked to Winter Formal was unable to attend. He too had other plans just like the rest of them and I began to wonder why God seemed to intentionally create a barrier for my girl.

She then appeared with cupcake mix and a plan, and we prayed. Would her persistence pay off? She was going to try one more time. This boy was the one.

She made a plate of cupcakes, frosted them, and creatively stuck silly photos of herself taped to toothpicks inside each confection. One cupcake held a sign which read, “Sure would be sweet if you went to Winter Formal with me.” We prayed some more. I begged God, and we waited.

The next day arrived and she texted me, “He said ‘Yes!’” They are excited. Victory after defeat. Success after failure. God knew. He had a plan. His plan didn’t match ours, but He knew.