Marriage Mania

Bruce and I went to see a movie Sunday afternoon after church.

Stop the presses! We actually went to see it in the theater. And we took out a small loan to fund our outing, too.

But it was so worth the time and money. We saw this one:



Bruce and I laughed like crazy in this movie. We had such a fun time pointing out characters who also appeared in "Facing the Giants", another movie by the production folks who did "Fireproof."

We saw the dad of the smart-mouthed football player in this movie's train scene. We saw the lollipop-sucking hyper rival coach in a scene near the very end of this movie. The football player who carries another player on his back across the field has a good supporting role in this movie. There's a bit part for the soccer-player-turned-football-kicker in "Fireproof"... that kid is just too cute for words. And the main character from "Facing the Giants" also has a small part at the end of this movie.

There's suspense in this movie, too. So don't think the fellas won't like it. I was clenching my fists at one fire scene.

But there are a couple of scenes that are just painful to watch, like some of the dialogue between the main character and his dad... about his mother. But the hardest for me was an argument between the two main characters near the beginning of the movie.

I think that hit me hard because we were watching the characters from the outside, like Peeping Toms. And sometimes you see things more clearly when you are outside of them. But Bruce and I have been in arguments every bit as ugly as the one on that screen. And this movie made me think about what the Lord felt when He viewed us hashing it out.

Kirk Cameron is fantastic in this movie. And I'm hoping his name will lend even greater weight to this movie and get more people out there to watch it. I've heard some great press about him and I have such respect for him as an actor and as a Christian.

I have a pretty good marriage. But I've been in a bad marriage before, too.

And I've never been married to anyone but Bruce.

I pray that he and I will never fall for the lie that divorce will make things easier. I see from the fall out of my parent's own dissolved marriage that walking away does not make life better. And even adult kids suffer. Sometimes greatly.

One more plug. Of a different nature.

Our Sunday school class is reading this book right now:



If you want to challenge the way you view marriage, read "Sacred Marriage". The subtitle is "What If God Designed Marriage to Make Us Holy More Than to Make Us Happy."

I am not a fan of self-help books, even if they are Christian living books. I typically read a chapter or two and then set the book aside... for good. I get bored.

But this book makes me think.

I told my mother-in-law that I think every engaged couple should be required to read this book when they go through pre-marital counseling. And then read it again when things get rough (notice I said "when" and not "if").

This is not a book that will pinch the conscience of one gender more than another. That kind of agenda bugs me. This book holds both the wife and husband to a higher standard... and it isn't the world's standard either.

I scanned the back few pages yesterday and found that the author, Gary Thomas, also wrote a book called "Sacred Parenting".

I'm feeling a trip to Lifeway is in order. Soon.

Spencer and I cracked skulls last night when our hard heads hit one another.

Our Little Angels

We just got home from going out to eat at McAlister's and then running some errands.

I had to blog the following because it's the culmination of all my Momma fantasies. Well, aside from the one about endless Crayola coloring moments together at the kitchen table. I've written that one off.

We got our food and sat down; Bruce and I at one table, the kids at a table across from ours.

Here are the highlights:

The kids ate almost everything we had ordered for them. The clincher? No complaints. Dream Number One = Success.

One minor skirmish about whose feet were invading the space under the table belonging to another person. The kicker? Quickly and quietly dealt with. Dream Number Two = Success.

A little side note now. (Consider this a commercial break.)

Spencer walked over to our table, pointed not very discreetly at an older couple sitting behind the kids' table, and whispered to us, "I think they're on a date."

I just thought that was sweet and cute.

Intermission is over now. On with my third dream come true. And this one's a doozy.

As the older couple was leaving, the lady leaned in the direction of the table Bruce and I were sitting at and said, "Your children are so quiet."

That absolutely qualifies as a dream, because I've never heard that before. Completely new territory. For Bruce, too, because he said something like, "It's not usually like this."

And the lady joked and said, "I'm sure it's like this at dinner at home every evening."

Yeah, right. Maybe for the Cleavers. We ain't them.

And then she said, "My husband said he forgot they were sitting there. He even noticed how well they were eating."

Yep. Those are our little angels.

In disguise for a brief, blissful moment. So I could have three little dreams come true.

Sadly, it was very brief.

Thank the good Lord we didn't run into that sweet couple when we were at Lowe's ten minutes later. They'd have been shell shocked.

What Would It Be Like?

Just wanted to share with you what's been moving me on the radio lately.

I'm loving the recent song from Big Daddy Weave, "What Life Would Be Like."

Enjoy!



I watched that video and I couldn't help myself... I wanted to shout, "Don't pick the flower!"

Because I do that with my kids. I'm trying to be a better mom though, so I'm stifling that urge as often as I can. It still comes out sometimes though. I can't help it!

I love this video, because I'm partial to World Vision.

Hey, I don't care where you give... just give. And I don't mean your tithe... God commands that. Give above that. Even if it's for no other reason than the fact that we can.

And let's be honest, the vast majority of us can afford to give. Even if we are ourselves on a budget. A tight budget.

Most of us get what we want. And pretty much when we want it, too. And if we can't afford it, we charge it. Or take out a loan.

We have so much, we can afford to give up something. Deny ourselves, to benefit someone else we will probably never meet. If we'll tear ourselves away from our mocha lattes from Starbucks, our addiction to Books-A-Million, our Pal's tea, our monthly movie theater visits, our weekly family restaurant runs, our various electronic toys, blah, blah, blah.

We've got enough stuff. More than enough.

Give something away!

And something good, too. Not your junk.

Or better yet, don't buy it to begin with. Give your money away.

I'm done now. Thanks for tuning in.

Shew, I'm not even sure where that came from.

Good, Bad and Worse

I'm feeling a little manic today. Lots of conflicting emotions.

I just had the neatest thing happen.

I was on Facebook and a friend of mine from college contacted me LIVE. We "chatted" for several minutes about our husbands and children and life back in college when we kept crazy hours putting together the school newspaper and yearbook. We haven't talked back and forth like that since more than 10 years ago.

The coolest thing? Melody is in Malaysia and 12 hours ahead of me in the time zones. It was just a precious thing to be back in touch with her.

Not so precious is this ridiculous cold, sinus infection thing I've got going. I don't have time for this junk!

I stayed home from BSF leaders meeting today. And I really hate that.

But worse than that is that while I was talking to Melody, Bruce sent me a message via Skype. His company is laying off roughly 40 people today. And offering early retirement to anyone 65 or older.

His job is secure, for now. But in our current economy, it's just not a good time to be working in the air conditioning business.

I'm going to take a nap now. Sudafed's wearing off.

Getting Better

I've got the creeping crud.

That's what my dad calls pretty much any croupy-cold type illness. And I think I have several croupy-cold type illnesses all rolled into one right now.

The house didn't get cleaned on Friday because of various trips to doctors and such... and it didn't get cleaned on Saturday because of football, cheerleading and nursing back to health a strep kid... and it didn't get cleaned on Sunday because I take seriously that thing the Lord said about it being a day of rest.

This morning rolls around and I feel like dirt. Maybe the dust bunnies in the home of the dirt family. Or toe jam on the dust bunnies in the home of the dirt family.

Something like that.

But I've got several ladies coming to my house on Wednesday afternoon. And I know I'm going to be busy with BSF stuff both Tuesday and Wednesday mornings... so today is cleaning day, regardless of dirt, dust bunnies or toe jam.

I am not the kind of homemaker whose house is nice and orderly if you just drop by. I want to be that person, but she just hasn't shown herself in me yet. I think she died when I had kids.

So if you just drop by, you'd better be the kind of friend who can overlook a lot. And you should also have the ability to hush your mouth about anything you can't overlook.

Thankfully, I cultivate those kinds of friendships. My friends love me for grander reasons than my house. I'm not sure of those reasons some days, but I do have some great friends.

And one of them just made my day rise to about knee level. Nah, probably waist level even.

Nicole made me this:




Isn't it cool?

And she did it just because. Which is only the best reason ever!

If you want her to do you one, she just started a business for this sort of thing. Click HERE. You can also hop over to her personal blog from there if you want to see what else she can do.

The day is getting better. I may even be getting better.

(But I'm still tucking the kids in early tonight and then heading right to bed myself.)

Too Busy

Plans to clean house?

Sure. Right. Like that's going to happen on a Friday.

Instead, I met with other homeroom moms at the school at 8 a.m., drove to the gas station to fill up the van, went grocery shopping, got a call from the school nurse, scheduled a visit with the pediatrician, went home to unload groceries and refrigerate or freeze all perishable food items, picked up Clay, and headed to the pediatrician, thinking he had an ear infection.

One exam later, and $20 bucks broker, we left with the diagnosis that it's all just a downhill progression of his allergies, which came back about two weeks ago. Probably right around the time ragweed reared its evil head.

And evidently Claritin isn't cutting it. Which was no real revelation to us.

We'll be trying Zyrtec for the next two weeks and praying for a hard freeze in our area.

What? It could happen!

Clay and I met Bruce for lunch and then we all skipped over to Lowe's to pick up some items for a house we are flipping. (That's a whole other blog entry. One that will likely not be written, because I alternate between excitement and frustration. Enough said.)

Since Friday was payday, I hauled Clay along on a quest to find me something dressy... and cheap. I found a cute skirt on sale at Cato, and then needed to find a matching blouse.

Two stores later, I came home with a shirt that I ended up returning today. I just couldn't justify another beige top in my closet, even if this one was cuter.

Clay told me he would much rather be at school than shopping with me.

I agreed with him. I'd rather be at school than shopping, too!

We got home about ten minutes before Spencer and Allison got off the school bus. Just enough time to put away all the other groceries, which had remained in their Food City bags on the kitchen floor all morning and afternoon.

Spencer's first statement when he came through the door was a repeat of something he said before school.

"Mom, I still have a sore throat."

Then he started crying, and saying, "It really hurts now."

Being the great mom I am, I soothed his tears and then snuggled him under a blanket on the couch and proceeded to ignore him while I went through the after-school-storm that hits my kitchen each day around that time.

An hour later, I came up for air. All lunchboxes emptied of trash, with freezer packs returned to the freezer. All take-home papers viewed and either pitched, filed away or taped to the fridge. All blanks initialed where necessary on notes from teachers, assignment books, and behavior folders.

Then I called Spencer to come do his homework. As I rounded the corner from the kitchen to the den, he stumbled off the couch, fussy, glassy-eyed and flushed.

With a fever of 101.4.

Perfect timing. Thirty minutes before I was supposed to take him and Allison to our church gym for Awanas Mexican Fiesta night.

Instead, I dropped off Allison at the church gym, took Clay to my mother-in-law's house (Why torture myself, I mean him, with a second visit to the doctor in one day?), and picked up a pizza to take over to the Flip House to feed my husband and father-in-law, who were painting the ceiling.

Forty minutes after taking his temperature, poor Spencer was finally en route to the urgent care clinic. One throat culture later, another $20 bucks broker, prescription in hand, we left with the diagnosis of strep throat.

We dropped off the prescription at the pharmacy, picked up Allison, returned to the pharmacy to pick up the meds, picked up Clay and drove home.

8:30 p.m. And 140 miles logged on the van from the time I pumped gas that morning.

I felt like I had run alongside the van for each of the 140 miles.

I was exhausted. And the kids were hungry.

Of course they were.

We all ate a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios, and I sent them to bed.

I followed them about an hour later.

The house is still a mess.

Only now it's Saturday afternoon and we've been gone all morning. Back to the pharmacy to have the medicine flavored, and out to the middle school to watch Clay play football and Allison cheer. (Yes, I took Spencer. I'd already sent him to school with strep! How much worse could it be? I figured I could control his proximity to other kids at least).

I did accomplish a couple things in the past 30 hours. The dishwasher got loaded and actually turned on. I took a load of clothes out of the dryer (even though they are still lying on our bed waiting to be folded). And I started another load of laundry.

I feel good.

Well, maybe not good exactly.

But who has time to focus for too long on what's not getting done. We've got to go.

Time to drive Clay to his Awanas Pals fall outing.

There's a reason that my cell phone's ring tone is "The Flight of the Bumblebee."

Everybody's Doing It

I caved to peer pressure. I changed my blog background. No more red, white and blue. Sniff, sniff.

All my bloggy friends are doing it.

Well, okay. All of them aren't. Just some of them are.

And, no, if my friends jumped off a tall building, I wouldn't follow them.

Also, it's not like they really pressured me. No demands to change up the blog... or else meet them in the back alley after church.

The pressure is internal, folks.

I needed a change. And I can't afford new furniture.

This new fall-colored background gives a sense of Autumn without screaming FALL so that I would be committed to changing it again in a few weeks. (I can only take change on an irregular basis.)

I've felt the urge to have a new background for a few weeks now, but I've hesitated.

Mostly because of this:


No more matching signature line. I'm in a quandary.

My friend Nicole did that one for me. And she's good. So good, in fact, that she explained to me exactly how to make one of my own.

But I haven't piddled with it myself yet.

I'm overwhelmed and intimidated by my own name. In color. Designed by me.

I'll get to it eventually.

Maybe.

And if I don't?

It's not like you don't know who writes this gibberish!

The Great Sedative

Another tooth bit the dust today in our household. This time Spencer lost his first tooth.



Exactly one week after Allison's first one came out. Here's our not-so-matching set of twins... each one missing his or her first baby tooth.



He came home from school yesterday with the bottom front tooth hanging on by a mere thread of flesh. The gum on the back side of his tooth was swollen puffy from the abuse it had taken via Spencer's wiggling efforts.

Spencer fussed at supper and cried because it was so hard to eat without hurting the area. That's when I supercede all requests to leave the tooth alone and instead have that sucker pulled. Because I see relating eating to pain as a bad thing. I'm all for tooth-pulling tough love... a little pain now for some peace later.

But my little guy was adamant.

I'd say, "Let's get that thing outta there."

"No," he'd reply, while scooting a bit farther away from me. As if I were going to launch across the room with a pair of pliers to pull it out right then and there.

Ummm, no. Teeth pulling ain't for sissies. That's Daddy's job, not Mommy's. There's blood involved. On purpose. I didn't sign on for that when I became a mom. I knew there'd be blood and broken bones, but never on purpose.

All night I dropped a variant of the phrase: "Let's pull it." Always earning his same response: "No." Consistently said with increasing amounts of fear laced in his voice.

At bedtime, he was still wiggling that tooth. And we were certain he'd be downstairs in no time with his prize. But that didn't happen.

So I fixed him oatmeal for breakfast and packed his lunch bag with Spaghettio's, pudding and Fig Newtons. But after sending him to school, I thought I should have heeded Bruce's advice to slip him some Laffy Taffy and hope the candy pulled the tooth out.

Spencer came home from school with that tooth still hanging. So I started my mantra again, but I altered it a bit.

"Let's get that tooth out," I said. "I've never pulled one before. Let me do it. I'll be very gentle."

"No."

He's consistent at least.

Fine. I needed the big guns... a ploy to prey on his sensitive nature.

"Nobody ever lets me pull their teeth. Why can't Mommy have a try?"

"Ohhhhhh, okay!" Said largely, I'm sure, to get me to hush.

But so what. Victory was mine.

And then I remembered that whole blood thing. But I was committed then. I had to muster up some of my own courage and take care of business.

I needed a sedative though.

For him. Not for me. I'm a big girl. A sissy, yes, but still a big girl.

We went to the den, plopped our bottoms down (mine on the couch, his on my lap), and I cued up the latest TiVoed episode of Spiderman. TV is better at sedation than any drug I know. (For kids anyway.)

Then the dickering began. I could wiggle and push and prod and twist, but when his little hand raised up in a "Stop" sign, I had to cease and desist. Because, he said, he might need to swallow or breathe. Swallowing and breathing is good. Our deal was set.

After about five minutes, I noticed a little blood. Allison got us a couple of paper towels, and we kept right on toward our goal.

After about seven minutes, I heard that crunch noise that lets you know a bit more root has let go. Yuck!

And after nearly eight minutes, I had in hand a tooth that had been set free!

And my boy had no idea. Because Spidey was into some intense action right about then.

I nudged Spencer and said, "Hey, Buddy..." I held the tooth up until it was in his line of vision, and he said, "Ohmigoodness, it's out! And it didn't even hurt."

We made the requisite call to Bruce at work to tell him the good news. We also got the camera out and made pictures.

And then my sweet boy told me the nicest thing.

"Mom, that was easy. I'll let you pull all my teeth!"

Am I blessed, or what?

Thankful Thursday - Friends Who Pray

I've mentioned before that I accepted a new role in Bible Study Fellowship this year.

I've been in BSF four previous years, but this is my first year as a discussion leader. It's a big responsibility. A huge time commitment. A bit overwhelming.

Well, actually, it's a lot overwhelming.

Still, I prayed about it and was assured of God's leading and timing in it. So for the last month, I've been preparing, both on my own and in leader's training with other BSFers.

Wednesday was our first day back. I was nervous. But it went so smoothly, and I know it was the Lord doing His thing and not me doing mine.

I'm so thankful for four special women who I specifically asked to pray for me. For peace. For managing my time well at home and during the leading of our discussion group. And even for a good sale, because I need to be a bit dressier than my stay-at-home mom attire accommodates.

I thought of mentioning it to my entire Sunday school class as a prayer request, but God worked it out that I only felt nudged to share it with these special ladies:

Maryiln, who was a previous teacher's leader at BSF until she retired before last year's study. She also attends my church, and she is a spiritual power house. I'd love to just sit and have lunch with her every day for a year so I can learn from her and hear what God has done in her life. She knows her Bible, but she's a humble servant in all she does.

Jennifer, who is my neighbor and a fellow stay-at-home mother. She and I can talk for hours and still have more to cover before we feel guilty and move on with our tasks for the day. We hash about everything from yard sale details to our faith and from teachers at our kids' elementary school to Sarah Palin. We joke that one day we'll solve the world's problems with our deep talks.

Shelly, who was my discussion leader in BSF a few years ago, and is in my discussion group this year. A little role reversal. She is an inspiration to me in walking with that peace that passes all understanding, because she's mom to two, including a daughter with aplastic anemia. Ever heard the song by Casting Crowns called Praise You in the Storm? That's Shelly in a nutshell.

Kim, who is the friend I've had longest since we moved here eight years ago. She's a person who I can vent with. We've shared deep stuff. Heartaches, joys, frustrations, fears, and praises. She was the person who encouraged me the most to take on this new role. And she even called me early Wednesday morning to give me my own little pep talk.

I don't talk to these ladies every day. Who has time for that?

I might talk to them once a week or only three times a year. But God has blessed me with their friendship and mentoring.

In college, at the Baptist Student Union, someone coined a phrase for women like these.

S.W.O.G.

Strong Woman of God.

The kind of women we all need praying for us. Is it a coincidence that each of these women is, or was at one time, a fellow BSFer? I don't think so.

God is so good to me.

Lunch Date

I met a very handsome young man for a lunch date today. My oldest son. Up at the school cafeteria. Spaghetti was on the menu.

You never can tell with kids what to expect.

I haven't met any of our kids for lunch this year up to this point. When they brought home the cafe menu at the beginning of the month, I found foods that sounded good to me and picked three days that worked on the calendar for me to meet each child on a different day.

Clay was first. You'd think that would generate some sort of excitement. But, no, he didn't seem as over-the-moon to see me as I was to see him.

He spent most of the lunch giving me monosyllabic answers to my questions. Then he would turn to the two boys who he is friends with and talk more to them.

Don't get me wrong. He wasn't rude. Or even embarrassed for me to be there. I'm just kind of wondering if he's over that whole thing about having mom eat lunch with him.

I hope not. I'm not ready for him to be over that.

On the flip side, I made two new friends. They're both eight-year-old little girls, but I'll take all the friends I can get.

The two girls who sat across from Clay and me talked like little magpies to me. While they were up getting seconds and putting their trays up, the boys filled me in.

C., Clay's friend, who will remain anonymous to protect his good name, told me this little nugget: "She's mean."

And he pointed out which girl he was talking about. Clay agreed with his friend's assessment.

Then C. continued, talking about the same girl: "She's bossy."

"Well," I said, "sometimes girls are just like that."

I know two girls in our home who share that trait. Is that a bad thing?

Later, when the girls returned to the table, Miss Bossy (sorry, but I don't remember her real name, so I can't even give an initial.) told me that she missed her dad. He evidently is in the Army and just left yesterday to go to California for his job.

I told her my dad was in the Air Force when I was little, but that he never had to go to California.

Then we talked about Awanas, because she goes to the group at our church. I'll have to keep my eye out for her this evening when we drop the kids off.

Then Miss Bossy pulled a little bit of a head game on the other girl by calling her by her full name, instead of the shortened nickname she prefers. I saw Nickname Girl's lower lip jut out.

Thinking I'd smooth things out, I said, "Oh, I love your full name. It sounds very pretty and grown up."

No dice. Nickname Girl went to tattle to one of the lunchroom monitors. Poor woman! Ahhh, but girls will be girls. (Must. Have. Drama!)

When Nickname Girl returned, Miss Bossy was back out of her seat for some reason, and I leaned over and told Nickname Girl all the wisdom I could muster: "She only does that because she knows it bugs you."

Nickname Girl nodded sagely. Evidently she's heard that before.

When the kids lined up to head back to their classroom, I asked Clay if he wanted me to walk back with him. He said yes, but that child ignored me again. In favor of his friends.

A mom's ego can easily get crushed in the hallowed halls of elementary school.

But my new friend, Miss Bossy, reached up and grabbed my hand and held it all the way back to the class.

Isn't that the sweetest thing? My heart just breaks for her to be without her daddy, even if she is mean and bossy.

Just proves that what you see isn't always the whole story.

Either that or it proves another bit of wisdom I've always heard.

Birds of a feather flock together.

Something's Missing

Our three kids just got off the bus, home from school. And something was definitely missing.

Allison's bottom front tooth, to be precise.

I have to admit, I feel cheated. My girl lost her first baby tooth at school, and not here at home beside her daddy and me.

Clay has lost all of his teeth here at home. (Well, not ALL of his teeth, just the baby teeth that have made way for permanent teeth. He still has teeth!)

Allison has been wiggling that tooth like crazy. And today it fell out while she was eating a birthday cupcake at school.

Poor Spencer's baby teeth are still firmly set in place. He SO wants to lord that whole extra 14 minutes of age over his sister's head. Naturally, since he is so much older, it should follow that his baby teeth start their exodus first. But God in His wisdom has not made it so.

While Allison was telling me all about the experience, Clay interrupted with his own bit of wisdom.

"Allison," he said, "this is a great way for you to start making money!"

And so, the fleecing of the Tooth Fairy begins. (Now you understand even more fully why it was necessary for me to specify above that Clay does still, in fact, have teeth!)

Now I go off on a tangent...

Allison lost her tooth on a cupcake. A birthday cupcake.

Doggone it. A few weeks ago when I sent their birthday treat, I caved to all that junk they send home from school, asking that snacks be healthy. Because I am a rule follower, I sent individual packs of snacks that were labeled as "only 100 calories per bag".

Do I have fond memories of childhood classroom snacks that center around reduced-fat cheese sticks and pretzels? No, I don't.

My memories are of cupcakes. With lots of icing. And cookies, which were also iced. Heavily.

From now on, I'm a rebel. I'm breaking all the nutrition rules. Come the next birthday celebration, I'm sending the snack that is sugariest (Yes, it is a word. Today it is. On this blog "sugariest" is correct! Don't argue with me. I'm an English/journalism major. And I know words. I'll beat you at a verbal argument any day of the week with my tongue tied behind my back! Ask Bruce.).

With that decision made, I'm content.

Sorry in advance to all teachers soon-to-be affected by this new hellion phase I'm going through regarding snacks.

Also, sorry to Miss Judy, our dental hygienist. I'll consider packing a toothbrush on cupcake days!

And a final apology to Jennifer, my sister-in-law, who is a nutritionist. I know all the rules, Jennifer. I understand about fat, sodium and calories. (Still a little confused by carbs, but anyway...)

Still, from now on, my kids get cupcakes for their birthday treats at school.

Evidently it is the treatment most preferred by six-year-olds for tooth extraction.

Proactive Customer Service

The doorbell rang yesterday about a half hour after the kids got off the school bus.

We all thought it would be Clay's friend from down the road, coming to play. But it wasn't.

I answered the door and was greeted by a man from our cable company. He proceeded to tell me that the company saw that our cable hookup was weak and had sent him out to work on the line.

And I told him, "I was just on the Internet, and it's fine."

He was very nice and explained that it would likely fade in and out because of the weak hookup. I wasn't home for several hours yesterday, so maybe it had been out some during the day. Still, I didn't let him come inside.

I explained to him that I don't let service people in the house when I am home alone with my kids unless I've called the service person or I have received a call from the company. (By the way, I realize I was tipping him off to the fact that my husband wasn't home at that point, but my neighbor across the street was mowing his yard and in plain sight, so I felt alright about that.). And I even acknowledged that I could see the company van parked by my mailbox, so I realized that he was almost certainly on the up and up.

Anyway, here's where I started to get fuzzy. The guy went on to explain that he had been out to service our cable modem last year... and even asked me if the modem was in "that room" and he pointed to the window of the room where we have our hookup. And he looked familiar. The longer we talked, I thought, "Well, he's been here before, and he was fine then. Shouldn't I just let him in?"

He said that the company would probably continue to send someone out to our house until the issue was resolved. Seems like a waste of gas to me, considering so many people work, but what do I know?

In the long run, I sent him on his way. Without allowing him to come in and service our modem connection.

And I felt a little silly. Like I'd gone all safety overkill. I'm nearly 100 percent certain he was just a nice worker doing his job.

But then I thought, "You know, we're warned these days that you can't even trust a lights-flashing, siren-blaring police car following you without having to pull over into a well-lighted area. If I can't trust a cop, why should I take the word of the cable guy?"

I admit that I've watched far too many episodes of C.S.I. and Criminal Minds. And I tend to believe many of the e-mail warnings that are sent my way (unless Bruce scoffs and insists that I check snopes.com to verify them). I am highly suspicious by nature.

But I want to believe the best of people.

What would you have done?

Thankful Thursday - Rest... Sort of!

I've been having one of those days. Actually, I've been having those days for several consecutive days lately.

And nothing very bad has been going on. Just too much, too quickly, too haphazardly. My head is spinning, trying to keep up with three different children being in school.

I don't know where I got the idea that all three of our children being in school would mean Dove bars, blue skies, and reading on the porch swing while listening to the birds singing in the background.

Frenetic is more the pace we've been going at.

And it's not just school. It's Awanas. Football and cheerleading practices. A business venture that Bruce and I are undertaking. A leadership role I've accepted in Bible Study Fellowship.

Not to mention laundry, doctor's appointments, dirty dishes, bathtubs that need scrubbing and supper that should consist of more than a repeat of lunch's PB&J sandwiches and chips.

Last night, I broke. My tone was fine, but I laid it all out for Bruce in a phone call while he was still at work. I was stressed.

But I wasn't really using very much common sense or prayer to solve it.

So last night, we went to our church's prayer meeting and sat and soaked up God's word. And it was good.

Bruce and I talked for the 30 minutes between church ending and picking our kids up from Awanas. And that was good, too.

And when we got home and the kids were settled in bed, I went to bed, praying before I drifted off. And I slept the longest and best sleep I've had in two weeks. (Even though I really wanted to stay up and watch Palin's speech.)

Today, I am at home. Not exactly resting, but it feels good to be home and not running around anywhere. I'm getting things done here. At my own pace.

Ahhhhh, who needs Calgon when we have Christ as our comforter?

His burden is light. His yoke is easy.

Someone asked yesterday while I was at BSF training, "What are you doing that someone else can do? What things are you involved in that are side issues to the cause of Christ? Can those things be done by a non-Christian so that you can spend time in service to God?"

When I don't take time off from the Merry Go 'Round of life, I get stressed. And when I don't sleep well or enough, I get grouchy.

And it's hard to teach Bible verses to elementary-aged kids when you look less like mom and more like this guy:



I'm praying for better time management. And more common sense in taking care of myself so I can do the things God has called me to do.

And I am so thankful for moments of rest. Even when they come between loads of laundry.