How May I Serve You?

Today I helped a couple celebrate their 40th wedding anniversary. Forty years. I really didn't know them very well, I mainly went for the cake. It was chocolate with strawberry mousse filling. Although the slice I was give was meager in my opinion, I suffered through it. When I starred at the reaming slices that were sitting without being eaten, no one got the hint that I needed another slice, so I left. I was too embarrassed to grab another slice while holding an empty plate in my hand, but if someone offered, I would have told them I that I would save it for later, and then gone back to my desk to scoff it down.

I really love cake, and this was expensive cake, from a bakery.

Forty years of marriage. I thought 18 was a lot. I suppose it is, compared to 3.

Obviously these two people are best friends. They get each other. They tease each other, and they love each other. They serve at our church because they love the Lord and share the passion for helping other people. That's awesome. The are full-time volunteers. Crazy.

My husband and I used to serve in high school ministry together, for 12 years. I miss serving with him. There is a special bond that takes place when you are able to do volunteer work with your husband and family while helping God's people.

We were created to serve others. When we are not serving others, we miss out the opportunity to be blessed by God. However, any mother knows, that if you have preschoolers or school age children, you are serving them all of the time, and that is where God needs you most to serve, within your family.

My husband and I need to start serving again. We need to set an example to our children, that serving in Biblical. Our family needs to be serving together.

That is something I need to put on my to-do list:

Go serve.

Imperfect Friends

God uses imperfect people. That is good to know. I’m one of those.

I don’t like hanging out with people who appear to be flawless. Although I am acutely aware that Jesus was the only perfect person on Earth, some people that I encounter, shelter themselves and don’t ever share their imperfections or past mistakes. This translates into a perception that my character flaws are unique. I then feel uncomfortable about opening up about myself. Keeping up guards and masking mistakes kills friendships.

Recently I had a conversation with my friend Anny. Our seventh grade boys are on the same flag football team at school and we found ourselves gravitating toward each other, and generating great conversation during the games as opposed to [insert guilty look and shoulder shrug here] watching our boys play football.

Although I had known Anny for a few years, I have never had the opportunity to sit down with her and talk about where we had come from, and what we had been doing, prior to ensuring that book reports get completed and packing lunches with a nutritionally apt variety.

As I shared about the demise of my first marriage, pulling away from the grip of God, and floating from boyfriend to boyfriend hoping to find my marital match, my way, Anny listened, without judgment. In addition, instead of nodding through my story and then turning to watch the game, Anny shared with me some of her past hurts and imperfections. This was refreshing.

The next week I looked for Anny and was excited to hang out with her. I anticipated chatting again and sharing while attempting to watch seventh grade flag football. I shrugged off the fact that twice my mother came by and said, “Shouldn’t you be watching your son play football?” I replied with, “I like talking and, I am great at multi-tasking.”

Anny and I grew to be closer friends because she and I were both willing to share, comment, suggest, and listen to each other. This is how friendships grow deeper. I appreciate Anny more now because I can identify with her.

Rick Warren says “It’s only as we become open about our lives that we experience authentic fellowship. The Bible says, ‘If we live in the light, as God is in the light, we can share fellowship with each other . . . If we say we have no sin, we are fooling ourselves’ 1 John 1:7–8.

Next week my son has another football game, one of his last for the season. I’m going to miss my time with Anny. Perhaps our boys will try out for the next sport together, basketball. If not, we will have to just have a great conversation over lunch like normal friends.

That would be great, too.

“Make this your common practice: Confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you can live together whole and healed” James 5:16 MSG.

Let's be Honest

I try not to text while I am driving, but sometimes it just happens.

I love to listen to Christian radio with preaching, on my way to work. I need a lot of help. What can I say?

My son's feet smell repulsive, but I never tell him. I just light candles in his room and tell him the aroma therapy is great help for homework.

I just gave my middle mister a haircut and he is telling everyone that I used to cut hair for a living. I don't correct him.

I don't like to listen to Christmas music until one week before Christmas.

Thanksgiving dinner is not my favorite.

I'm not a fan of chocolate cake.

I pull down decorations from any given holiday, the night of the holiday.

I used to be a chronic interrupter. I'm getting better. I'm still not great.

Spiders, worms, crickets, and any other insect variety, besides cockroaches, don't bother/scare me.

Organizing is one of my favorite things to do. I have passed on this gene to my six year old boy.

I have not pasted a photo in any book in ten years, and rarely take pictures of my children now. That's bad.

I do to much for my kids.

Return of the Pony

Within 24 hours the ponytail returned. We visited the salon on Friday. My daughter kept looking in the mirror at her short hairstyle that was also highlighted with shades of brown in order to bring back some of her natural color, and said over and over again how much she loved her hair. She said it so many times that the stylist was a bit smug, waiting for the confetti and balloons to drop from the ceiling and the "Stylist of the Year" sash to be placed across her chest.

Previous to the salon visit, she was so bothered by her long bangs and lack of volume and luster throughout her hair that she squeezed the back section of it into an inch long ponytail and clipped back the sides with significant amounts of bobby pins. Knowing that she was longing for a look that made her feel confident, I purchased headbands for her and commented on how cute she looked while trying on different styles of hats.

All the while I wondered why in the world she requested such a short hair style if she was going to wear a ponytail every day. Recommending that she grow out her hair in order to accommodate the ponytail came with such disgust you would have thought that I suggested she shave her head and tattoo "Bald is beautiful" across her scalp.

After exiting the salon, I was confident that the ponytail days were gone. Her hair was cut in a way that lent itself to easy coiffing by a fifteen year old. My husband and I relentlessly told her how adorable her hair looked, and how pretty she was when it was down and styled. Her friends lavished on the complements as well, and her aunt told her that she was beautiful at least a half dozen times.

This morning she exited her bathroom, with a half inch long ponytail and scraps of short hair pasted down to her head with bobby pins. I couldn't believe my eyes. The money I had just spent on a cute cut and color was all for nothing. Instead of ignoring the ponytail and taking her to school, I said, "I cannot believe you put your hair in a ponytail. Next time you want a haircut and color you can use your own money," This comment didn't go over very well.

She insisted that her failed attempts to blow dry her hair into placement which suited her, resulted in a ponytail. My lack of sympathy and understanding was evident. There were heavy sighs the entire drive to school as she continued to tell me that between the mousse and blow dry, something went awry.

As I considered my frustration and the battle that I was choosing to fight I thought to myself, "It's just hair, right?" I prayed this morning that God would empower me to bite my tongue and her to have the ability to style her hair so that she loves it without having to shove it into a ponytail.

She is finding her identity. I have to constantly remind myself of that, and the fact that she isn't sneaking out at night to be with boys, and well, shaving her head and tatooing "Bald is beautiful" across her scalp.

Things could be worse, much worse.

Let the tongue biting begin.

Sunday Thoughts

"You are my God, earnestly I seek you; I thirst for you, my whole being longs for you, in a dry and parched land where there is no water."

Psalm 63:1

Happy Halloween

Non-Stick

You can tell a lot about a person by the stickers they have placed on their cars. My car is sticker-free by choice. I'm afraid that if I purchase a fish, NOTW, or cross sticker for my back window, people may question my dedication if they drive past and see me shouting at my children or cutting someone off when I have missed my exit. I admire people who cover their cars with stickers. They don't care what people think. Sometimes I care too much.

I see one sticker all over town that states, "COEXIST." I have no clue what those drivers are tying to convince the rest of us to do. I'm slow that way.

I HATE, with all capital letters, the peeing kid stickers. To me they are repulsive and stupid. I'm sure those people wouldn't pee on a FORD if one was given to them, for free.

Mid-twenty something's love stickers. They love to advertise for companies with whom they are passionate. They are still caught up in the "everyone will know my opinion whether they want to or not" way of thinking. I don't, care that is, about their opinion.

If I had to advertise something with a sticker if would have to be Ralph's Chocolate Chip Ice Cream which happens to be my favorite ice cream in the world. Ralph's Grocery doesn't have bumper stickers for their ice cream, hence, my car is still sticker-free.

One of the most brash stickers I have seen said, "Single and Beautiful." I looked everywhere for the beautiful person who drove the car which was parked next to mine and couldn't find anyone. I'll bet they are single because they are too beautiful.

So, for now, no advertisements, no "my kid is a this or that," no praying girl, no college support, nothing, just a plain, old car, that needs to be washed, and also needs a set of brakes.