Cranky Granny Hijacked My Blog

At the very end of this particular Friday, I am particularly exhausted. The reason is not surprising, but also probably not what one might expect. 

I have not been doing much of anything!

On top of that, I have eaten entirely too many doughnuts in the last two days.  A lot of inactivity, plus a lot of high-sugar, high-fat food tend to sack a person of any energy she might have been able to muster up. 

Tonight I was so fed up with the tables in our living room that I gave the kids a job: empty the tables onto the floor in the back room. They did this, but not without looking at me like I was a straight-up rainbow-striped loony bird from another planet. Now the coffee table and the side table in the living room look great! However...the back room needs some work. 

Taking care of that and the laundry are my goals for tomorrow. Ah, I should add the entryway, too. Since we returned from our trip last weekend (Hello, we were gone for 24 hours...how could it have become that messy, you might ask. Well, when you have to take bedding with you, it multiplies your mess exponentially.) it has spiraled into its old ways of dishevelment and delinquency. (My entryway is naughty. It has no shame.)

And just because this has been on my mind, I'm going to share it with you. Please do not expect a smooth transition...there isn't one. At all.

I don't like our neighborhood.

If you ask me about it, particularly if we're at church, I'll say I think we're in the right place, and that I'm so glad that the family who moved in our old house is living there because they use it for ministry in a way that we never did (and probably should have), and that the kids are happy (Eliana LOVES her pink room), and it was so great not to have to spend untold hours and days and months looking at houses with a realtor (and children!) or even online. What you won't hear is my (foolish, selfish, deceitful, wicked) heart screaming on the inside,"But tell them how you REALLY feel!" 

Shortly after we moved here, our van was stolen. (This is still a sore subject for me, for personal reasons...so I won't go into that again now.) We got a new van about a month and a half later, and before a year had passed, several items were stolen out of that vehicle. This past Halloween our van was egged. And just the other day, something very strange (to me, anyway) happened. 

Now, I will be the first to admit that our yard right now leaves a lot to be desired. Our neighbor's yard is always immaculate (I think they run a landscaping company or something...I totally might be making that up). And I feel bad that our yard is so leafy. We're working on it (we=not me so much as Mike). Our garage door is broken so it's a pain in the tookus to get it open so the yard stuff can come out to play (or work...but I'd like to think it's having fun doing what it's made to do). (Ouch...hello why-don't-you-listen-to-the-surprise-message-in-your-own-words?) (That might preach, actually...I need to listen to that sermon.) Anyway, all that is to say that there has been a yucky leaf trail running along the curb in the street along the part of the curb that is outside of our house. I usually park there so that the door of the van opens to the sidewalk and the kids can get in and out of the car without going in the grass. (Yes, I'm cuckoo...I don't want them to step in dog poo.) Here's the strange part. The other day I noticed that all of the leaves that had been in the street were now plopped up on the grass on just-this-side-of the curb. And there were no leaves on the sidewalk, just on the grass. However! On the sidewalk lay a wet, gross, squooshy, longish, dark, dark, dark blob. 

GROSS. 

What was it anyway? I have no idea. But...it was gross. And weird. Did someone come along, put all the leaves up out of the street and into our grass, and then plant a turd on our sidewalk? Right where my kids walk every day?

I don't get it. Someone might say that the wind (which was very strong the other night...there were tornado warnings in surrounding areas) may have relocated the leaves...but I DON'T THINK SO. They were too perfectly and solidly up-and-over-ed the curb. 

And what's up with the TURD?

And so...I have been fuming about where we live all over again. And really, I know it's so stupid, and that I am being ridiculous. And I want to be not a malcontent but a content. I'm not there yet. I try to remind myself that what I need to do is be grateful for all that we have (which is SO MUCH) and I tell myself that we are to pray for the city in which we live. But I'm just being honest...sometimes it's hard. 

I got that overwhelmed feeling earlier today, walking through the house picking up laundry, knowing what a mess it all is, feeling so unhappy...and I thought,"I just want to go somewhere else, start over," but I knew even as I thought it, that wouldn't be the case. I'm going to be wherever we go, and I am a huge part of this problem. It will just follow me! 

I don't even know what in the world I wrote all this for, except I needed to get it off my chest. In 1 Timothy, Paul says,"Here is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance: Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners—of whom I am the worst." I often feel like I am the worst, because I know better. (I know the right answers but I don't live them.) This verse comes to mind frequently...mostly in the form of the last six words. But I can't forget the first part. And if Christ Jesus could come into this world, leaving the very glories of Heaven behind for our sakes, then, certainly, I can get over my entitlement issues and I can live in a regular neighborhood that doesn't happen to fulfill all of my dreams and hopes, for his sake. 

That is so scary to write...because what does that mean, for his sake? Mike wants to have people over for the SuperBowl (not this year...he's not trying to kill me on the spot) but even thinking about having guests makes me feel all kinds of anxious and like I might keel over. Or at least go get in bed and never come out again.

Hospitality. It's not my gift. 

In the beginning of this letter to Timothy, Paul encourages this young man to have this goal: "love, which comes from a pure heart and a good conscience and a sincere faith." I feel more like those lip-flappers that Paul warns against in this and other letters. I know a fair amount in my head, but my life is not a significant "light on a hill."

Paul also tells Timothy,"But for that very reason I was shown mercy so that in me, the worst of sinners, Christ Jesus might display his immense patience as an example for those who would believe in him and receive eternal life. Now to the King eternal, immortal, invisible, the only God, be honor and glory for ever and ever. Amen." How patient is our God and Father, and our Lord and Savior Jesus. How impatient I am! Oh to do a better job tomorrow..."love, which comes from a pure heart and a good conscience and a sincere faith."

I need to start with cleaning my entryway...next year's SuperBowl is not too far off.

(An important note: I am in no way, shape, or form, committing to a SuperBowl party next year. I am making a (likely inappropriate) joke. Do not show up here next January for football, food, and festivities.)

Painting

I've been meaning to tell you about the final activity we did at the retreat last weekend, but I kept forgetting to get the activity out of the car. 

We sat at round tables with other moms and daughters each session that we had, and we usually sat with the same people each time we met. One mom, her daughter, and a friend's daughter (that she had brought even though that daughter's mom could not come on the retreat) had to leave before this final activity, so Michaela and I were at the table with one mom and her daughter. The young woman who has joined the church staff to work with this age group (5th and 6th graders) (Bless her) also joined our table. 

Along with the other remaining participants, we received our instructions; we were looking forward to this activity, as it involved a canvas and paint. As the theme was "True Beauty" we assumed that we would be painting something beautiful.

Then came the twist. Every so often, the speaker was going to call out,"Switch!" and we were to pass our canvases to the right. Then we would continue to paint as we wanted. This would go on until our canvases returned, and then we could finish them up. 

This was such a wonderful activity. It was good for me, a control freak, and it was amazing to see how lovely and creative each person's unique addition to each painting was. 

This is Michaela's finished canvas.

She started with the large flower, including the stem and the leaf. I was to her right, so I painted second. I added the ladybug, what I thought were blades of grass (someone else turned them into smaller flowers), and the sliver of a moon. As it went around the table, we saw the evolution of this daylight-overtaking-the-nighttime picture. Once we got home, she added the verse reference. 

In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. John 1:4-5

Here is my picture.

I am not very creative when it comes to painting and drawing. I think it's fun, but I'm mostly a doodler. But what first came to my mind was a sun right in the middle. So I swirled a fiery ball onto my canvas, using mostly orange and a little bit of red. Then I started adding the blue at the bottom, like the ocean. Suddenly, the call came to switch! So I passed my picture to the right. When I had it in my hands again, I saw a beautiful sunrise. 

Looking at the pictures is bringing tears to my eyes. Before anyone thinks I'm an inordinately sensitive touchy-feely goober, I want to say that I am confident that I am not so much of a feeler that I throw out the fact that thinking is important because it matters so much how we feeeeeeeel! I actually get annoyed by a lot of the junk that gets thrown around about feelings these days. Our minds are very important, as are our hearts...the two work together to help us understand and love God, our fellow humans, and ourselves. But I really appreciated the lesson that we were learning with this activity. We are all unique, we all bring something different to the picture, but isn't it lovely when we're done?

What we got to experience was a lot of fun, and from what I could gather, was a lot of I-wonder-what-I-can-do-to-make-a-lovely-addition-that-not-only-says-something-about-me-but-that-the-original-painter-will-appreciate. And I think that's a good lesson to learn. 

A Little Reminder

Tonight I read with Michaela about how the same Spirit that raised Jesus up from the dead lives in us. (Romans 8:11)

I know I've read that before. And it's something that I've heard on multiple occasions in sermons and Sunday School classes. But did I really see it, understand it, deep-down get it?

The same Spirit that raised Jesus from the dead lives in me.

In me?

In me!

Say what? 

How about I'll start with saying thank you! And I'm going to go read Romans 8 (and maybe even all of Romans) because, in case you didn't know...there's some good stuff in there. 

What Makes a Good Story...

What is your favorite book?

I have several, and the one that stands out in my mind first and foremost is Les Miserables. It is a masterpiece. It is a tapestry, carefully, thoughtfully, lovingly woven together to create a story that is so gripping and heartbreaking and joyful and treacherous and uplifting that my heart hurts just to think of it. And I want to stay up all night reading it again.

Okay, all night and all day and probably all the next night too.

What is it that makes Les Mis such a good story? (For me, I should add...I know not everyone might love it, but we all have a story that makes us ache, soar, and then cry just because it's over and we wish it never had to end.)

The same question can be asked of the show Downton Abbey. I would venture to say that it is just as good of a story as Les Miserables because of many similar aspects. Why is this show so compelling? Why do so, so, so many people tune in each week to see what happens next in the lives of this British family of nobles in an ever-changing time period in history that is quite removed from the world we live in in a myriad of ways. Why on earth do we care?!?!

And you can be certain that we do. We know (we=those of us who are completely addicted to this show) that the Grantham/Crawley family (I still haven't entirely figured out the name situation...) is fictional, however, we cannot imagine not spending Sunday evening in their company (or Tuesday evening, as it may be). I asked Mike the other night why he liked to watch the show and I loved his answer. I wish I had written it down, but, alas, I did not. But what he said was very much like what I felt in my own heart. 

We see ourselves in this family. We see ourselves in the servants. We see ourselves in the insiders and the outsiders. We see family dynamics that are so heartbreakingly familiar, and we see relationships that are reflective of our own relationships with mothers, fathers, husbands, wives, sisters, brothers, in-laws, grandparents, and those who have service-oriented jobs. There is humor. There is grief. There is love. There is jealousy. There is pride. There is encouragement. Sometimes there is a circumstance that seems so outrageous that it can do nothing other than remind us of just exactly what we felt the other day (even though the situation was completely different...we get it). We know people who have survived war. We know people who have overcome obstacles of infidelity. We know families who have struggled with estrangement or finances or infertility. We have celebrated when those we love marry, or receive good news, or experience a miracle. We are moved because we have felt those losses and those gains.

For a while toward the end of the second season, after Matthew survived The Great War, and Lady Grantham survived the Spanish Flu, and Mary and Matthew finally got together, I thought to myself,"Well. It's a great show; things sure do work out for the family, don't they?" This season has dashed that thought quite swiftly and thoroughly to the ground. There will be no husband for Lady Edith (that we can foresee). There is a chasm developing between Lord and Lady Grantham that will prove very difficult to bridge. The family suffered a terrible loss when Lady Sybil died shortly after giving birth to her baby girl. The truth is that in this life there are moments when we feel like we have narrowly escaped a terrible thing and we are grateful, there are moments when we are afraid that we can't possibly continue along without encountering some major life-changing circumstance, and there are moments when those circumstances come and do, indeed, change everything, whether the events be wonderful or devastating. 

This show has made me feel giddy, and it has made me feel frustrated. Downton Abbey has made me feel angry and has made me feel exasperated. I have felt their joys. And their sorrows have made me feel so, so grieved. 

And that is what makes it such a good story...it has made me feel. 

What I think is really lovely about it, though, is that it has not just made me feel, but it has made me think. How am I different from these people? How am I the same? What can I learn about myself, and can I be a better person because of it? These questions, for me, ultimately need to be answered through the lens of the Bible, but what is the Bible if it is not the grandest story ever told? And in light of some of the issues that are drawn out on the show, it becomes even more clear to me that neither money, nor prestige, a place of position, nor all the things that the world might proclaim to be what we need in order to come out on top, can save a person from the harsh realities that that same world tends to throw at individuals, families, and whatever other relational dynamic or type of person one can think of, no matter if you are a Countess or a  Thomas, a Lady Mary or an Ethel. 

My favorite line from that wonderful book Les Miserables is,"The pupil dilates in the night, and at last finds day in it, even as the soul dilates in misfortune, and at last finds God in it." It is followed by this one-sentence-paragraph: "To find his way was difficult." There are a handful of Very True Sentences in literature that stand out in my mind, and this is at the top of the list. I hope that the characters in Downton see some daylight soon; it will be very difficult for that day to break through the stormy clouds. And I hope even more that as I watch, I am reminded all the time of my soul's great need for God.

Don't we all love a happy ending? We long for it! I have no idea how this show will eventually end, but for the other story...the ending has been written. And it is the happiest one of all. 

Double Digits!

Speaking of true beauty...

Christian entered this world ten years ago today, and showed us his beautiful face at just the right time.

Michaela was captivated. She kept saying,"Baby!"

 

He had us falling for him the first moment we saw him.

We've been falling ever since, whether it was for his charm or his jokes...well, it's probably an even count.

Today our celebration was simple. I asked Christian what he wanted for his birthday dinner, and after a great deal of non-decision making, he finally exclaimed,"Hamburgers!" So hamburgers it was. But only if I grilled them. 

So I did. Yes I did put on my big girl underpants and I fired up the grill all by myself, without catching my arms on fire, which I was worried about after Mike explained to me how I would need to ignite the burners using a long lighter once I opened the gas tank and turned those flame-throwers on. Once I served Christian his plate, he took a bite and said,"This is better than a Wendy's burger!"

High praise, no?

As for cake, he requested chocolate. I wasn't about to argue with that. And we continued with the simple theme. When it comes to cake-making, I tend to excel at simple and, well, fail at anything that is remotely complicated.

Yoda? Tried, I did. 

This is where I messed up. I think it would have been all right if I had dyed the frosting green. But I got lazy. Do you know what happens when you get lazy?

Nothing good. That's what. Learn from my mistakes. Don't be lazy like me. 

Sweet little Christian. He didn't mind at all that Yoda looked so...sick? Just so wrong. (Eyes are really hard to draw. And Yoda eyes? Using liquid frosting? May the force be with you.)

See, simple baseball diamond. Not too bad. 

Brontosaurus? Too complicated. In my mind, it was wonderful. Just like the real thing, in fact! Reality is harsh, though. Kind of mean, actually.

That was a neck, not a big poop. I did eventually get it to stick up like a neck. It was a triumph! 

This year? Simple: round cake; chocolate ganache; ten candles; happy boy.

Happy Birthday, Christian! You're in double digits now...that means double the fun, right?

Right?!

Right?!

I just know I'm right...