He sleeps in peace

What does he dream tonight?

Lashes on cheeks.

So tall.

We prayed for him.

We brought him home that day

When he was born.

And now...

Helpless I watch.

And I can’t catch my breath.

My heart won’t beat.

I pray.

Christmas Traditions in Midland, Texas

Someone recently asked me if I thought I would miss Midland. My response was "probably not." But at Christmas Time I get sentimental. Of course there are the memories of the holiday season here. Sadly, as I reflect on many of the things that have meant Midland to me over the years, I realize that most of them are already gone on ahead of me

Riding the escalator to the second story toy department at Walgreens

I always wished I had asked about the massive neon sign that hung above that escalator when they tore down the old store. HI like to envision it hanging on a brick wall in a loft apartment somewhere and the owner loving it. It had a big arrow on it that lit up and words underneath that said something like "Up for toys, clothing, housewares." The only thing I was really interested in was the toys. There was also a very fascinating coke machine up there that my parents never splurged on. But I did get to see it in action once. It was pretty awe-inspiring how it dropped a paper cup, filled it with ice and dispensed a coca cola. 'Hope you wanted a coca cola...cause that's what you got. But it was soooo cool.

Buying Christmas decorations at Gibsons

Aside from being an-otherwordly place in the off-season (something of a cross between Tractor Supply and a modern day dollar store) Gibsons turned absolutely magical at Christmasttime. Gibson elves added to the already brimming and chaotic inventory of the store by creating winter wonder-scenes, replete with flocked trees (ahh..the LOVE of 'em) and tinsel trees (I so drooled over the marvelous things) and every type of bauble known to mankind: tweeting birdy balls, spinny ornaments, and myriads of other flashy fire-hazardy glittery goop. My best friend and I were once left in the store by her mom after being warned to go to the car several times. She circled the block and came back for us. When Gibsons closed down, the old building remained vacant for a number of years, it's oversized parking lot providing practice ground for driver's ed students. Since that time, it has been a gym and is now a Jumping Party. Of course nowadays, we Midlanders get our tinselly thrills at Miss Cayce's Christmas Store. My kids love to go there for warm cookies and cokes, if not for their fascination with all things shiny.

Downtown Christmas Parade

When you grow up in Midland, there's never much to do, so the Christmas parade is always a big deal. As a very young kid, I watched the parade huddled in blankets. As I got older, as most school-aged Midland students were, I think I was more often in the parade than watching it. From Marching Bands, to throwing candy from a church float. The parade was always a poorly publicized unpretentious, if not homely affair, but something we never wanted to miss. Just las year I found out tht it is always he first weekend in December. Maybe that's why it's not publicized...we're supposed to recognize a pattern. Ahhh, well, I'm gonna try to make it out one last year for my kids.

Seeing Santa at Sears

Before we had a mall in Midland, Sears was the place to shop. It had a special room that only opened for Christmas where all the toys were displayed and Santa Claus sat on his throne. Throughout the rest of the year, as I passed the entry to that room, I often wondered if elves were inside working. And if not, why they didn't keep the toys visible all year long. The old Sears building burned and was later relocated to the new Midland Park Mall.

Downtown window displays

One of my earliest memories was walking the downtown sidewalks with my mom to look at retail stores' seasonal window displays. This was before the area turned into the lifeless downtown of today (Yes, they say they are revitalizing it. Ummmm...okay, if you say so.) I don't know what the stores were, maybe clothiers and jewelers and the like. All I know is that my mom made a specail effort to take me and that she would call my attention to the bells pealing from First United Methodist Church as we strolled along. Midland with its tall buildings was fascinating to me. I had to bend my head all the way backward to see the top of the Wilco building. Inside the First National Bank Building, they had the tallest Christmas tree in the world. I always heard that if you rode the elevator to the top floor, they would give you a free coke. I don't know who told me that, but I was too chicken to ever try it. Today, Pioneer Natural Resources, the company that is transferring us to Dallas, occupies Midland's tallest building.

Uncle Al and Santa Claus at Parklea Baptist Church

A shy child, I was particularly coddled by one gentleman in our church. Al Little. My parents called him Al, and insisted that if I was to call him by his first name that I at least add "Uncle" to it. So "Unkey Al" was my guy and was pretty much the only man I'd go to. Not even when Santa Claus himself made an appearance at church could I be coaxed to sit on his lap. I believe I was four at the time when my parents manhandled me to a squalling sitting position on Santa's knee at the threats of not "getting what I wanted for Christmas if I didn't tell Santa." I avoided eye contact with the old man in red, focusing on a raised furry cuff exposing one hairy arm. I knew that arm. It ruined my believing in Santa from there on, but calmed me down enough in the moment that I could tell Unkey Al what I wanted for Christmas.

Christmas at the Mansion

I remember the Museum of the Southwest as a place we went on field trips and looked at exhibits I didn't understand. However, I was fascinated by the place itself. Rumor had it that there was a murder in the mansion long ago. "There is blood on the carpet upstairs," I was told. Hmmm... so THAT's why they never let us go up there. Today, the old mansion is done up right for the holidays. Local businesses decorate trees to fill the place. The Cats Meow Antique store usually does a fantastic display from their very complete collection of vintage findings. One year, they recreated the living room of A Christmas Story down to the leg lamp. But while I am admiring table settings and gingerbread houses indoors, my boys are pulling and tugging me to the train depot where a little old man in engineer cap shows off the collection of working toy trains with the enthusiasm and precision of a cub scout.

Candy Cane Lane

Candy cane Lane was a neighborhood venture someone dreamed up that became a tradition. Somehow they constructed oversized candy canes out of pvc pipe and dryer vents and striped them with red. Every house on the block had it's sidewalk flanked in a pair of the red and white sweets. Legend goes that if you sell your house there, you must leave the canes and the new buyer must agree to put them out each year. Now only a few avid traditionalists remain. But if you drive the street in daylight, you will notice a concrete pad on each side of the pathway, evidence of what once was.

Scrooge's House

I don't remember what street this was in Midland, but it was a highly decorated one. Once again, I think all the neighbors got together and planned to make it the brightest spot in town. There was only one problem: A large vacant, almost spooky looking house at the turning point in the cul-de-sac. There was nothing they could do about the eyesore but put out a large sign in front that read "Scrooge's House." The house remained vacant for some time and the seasonal solution continued to fit. Finally when the house was bought and the new owners moved in, they continued the tradition. How nice to have your neighbors tell you, "We will be spending tons of money on needless decorations but don't you worry about decorating at all. Just sit tight and put out this sign." Maybe I'll try that sometime.

Pull-through Santa Scene

Everyone who has lived here very long knows about a certain house in old Midland with a circle driveway and a big picture window in the front room. At Chrismas every year, a life-size Santa appeared engaged in yet another exciting activity. Santa the skier, Santa stuck in the chimney, Santa watching the game on t.v. The sign in the drive way said "pull through for a closer look." Every year cars full of families lined up to pull through and see what Santa was up to. This remained a family tradition from the time I was a young girl until adulthood. Then suddenly it stopped. We lamented that the new owners didn't keep up the tradition that so many had enjoyed throughout the years. And we continued to drive by that pace, as other Midlanders did, and remembered. Last year, we were surprised to see Santa was back, after all this time. This time, Santa stood before an easel among suitcases and trunks. Around the room were numerous completed works of art. The sign in the window read something like this: "For my Dad. Many people never knew that he was an avid traveller and an artist."

Video Game Room in the Future for Leach Family?

For those of you who know me (which I would assume is all one of you), you’re probably gonna check this blog a couple of times to make sure this is really me writing. Yes, it’s me...no one has captured my account. But lemme just ask you one thing...wouldn’t it be cool to have a room just for video games in my new house?

I know, I generally don’t like the idea of video games. As a mom, I feel that they can be distracting at best, eating away the minds of youngsters and teaching bad habits--you know, like killing people. As a sister, (can I say this?) I have seen excessive video gaming play some serious parts in wrecking some marriages of those girls I love the most. As a family, we have shied away from purchasing anything trendy in this area. I guess we thought that if the games they play aren't the thing right now, that they won't spend as much time on them, and will concentrate on more boyish activities like playing outside. You know, things that require activity and sweat.

But it's been a bit of a downward spiral We bought a vintage atari once for our kids and they thought they were uptown! Next, someone gave them a Nintendo 63, I think it was. (See, I’m so dumb about them, I don’t even know what it was for sure.) There was like one game we allowed them to play on it. The kids, in an attempt to connect with society and ‘be like other kids’ have bought themselves what poor imitations they could afford--various plug-in controller/video games of such things as Fantastic Four and Thomas the Tank Engine. Oh, yeah and there was a golf game that someone gave them. They bought some old Playstation or something at a garage sale recently and now they fascinate their friends with games no one knew existed on a playstation nobody else has. Last year, we finally broke down and bought them a Wii. And it was even a new one. I justified this venture in to current trends by noting that these games were "athletic." Therefor, if I catch them sitting down playing tennis, the game is over. Overkill, I know. But I just have had a little bit of an aversion to video games.

Until today.

Beatles Rock Band. That’s all I’m gonna say.

I know. Don’t hit me. I know you already knew all about it...but well, I had just ignored that piece of American culture. But I played “Hard Day’s Night” on the drums tonight at Best Buy. And now I think we ought to have a whole room devoted to such endeavors as “I Wanna Hold Your Hand." Don't you agree?

Okay, wait... I can justify this. We have been thinking about homeschooling right? And musical instruction is important right? So I said to my kids, “What do ya’ll think if we just do our homeschooling on the Wii?” They were in full agreement, so there you go. Of course my husband was a little skeptical that we could produce an academically balanced curriculum just of Wii material. Okay...if we have to we will add Xbox.

But seriously, the kids were telling me all sorts of neat stuff. Like, did you know they have a Gardening Mama game? Or a Zookeeper game? Sure and there are things to learn Geography and Math and everything you need to know. So I’m all for it. Whattayathink?

So I was looking online for design ideas. Why are there no video game room design ideas? (This question is my lazy way of prompting others to look for them for me, since googling is almost as hard as scrolling through blog entries.) I hope it works. I would love to know what you think would be important in such a room. What games, What furniture? What decor? Fridge? Preferred flooring? Surround sound? Stations for different games at different times by different people and oh! I'm serious here, people. I want feedback. Do I need a poll? I can add one. As long as it has Rock Band 2 on it somewhere.

And let me reiterate, just so you don't think I'm doing this for selfish reasons--the kids said the whole thing sounds good to them if I promise not to hog it. Heck, we’ll get two of ‘em if we need to. Wouldn't want to deprive the kids.

Icky Sicky Ick

I feel like Im camping out in the house. And I’m sick.

Being sick sucks. But you know what? The flavor and texture of Zicam has greatly improved! So there’s a nice little surprise. Thank you Zicam...I almost didn’t buy you because of our previous experience together. Other than, that, there have been no pleasant surprises to feeling like crud.

For instance, in the doc’s office, there was this sign that said “limit 2 visitors per patient.” I didn’t have any. No one came to see me while I was there. So posting that there was kind of like rubbing it in my face. Yep I was alone. For quite a while. I thought it might be kind of a fun place when I saw that the paper covering the exam table was Cat in the Hat. But as I sat down right on top of Thing 1 and Thing 2, I noticed there really wasn’t anything special about it. Thing 1 and Thing 2 were just there in a feeble attempt to comfort me after pointing out that I have no friends.

I did get a nice hip shot though. I remember how I used to tighten up and cry when I was little. Now I try to take it like a big girl. I still hate them. Not because I don’t like needles...I’m fine with giving blood or IV’s. I just hate the burn of antibiotic. So in addition to the shot I am taking two other antibiotics which they told me they would call in for me.

As I walked into Walgreens I realized that there is no time that I feel uglier than when I am sick. I don’t know, maybe it has something to do with the fact that I don’t bother to fix my hair or put on makeup. I guess it’s kind of like, if I’m going to feel bad, the rest of the world is going to have to suffer right along by seeing me this way. Last night I went out to my Mom’s and my sis kind of studied my face for a second. “You look different,” she says, as if she’s not sure if it was intentional or not. “It’s cause I don’t feel good. Plus with all the remodeling all my mirrors are covered up.” “Oh,” she says. “Well, don’t go look in one of ours.” I guess she would have been really grossed out if I had shown her the fur on my tongue.

So now I'm waiting for my husband to bring me lunch. And if he's really good, he'll bring me a prize. Because he knows the house rules: You get a shot--you get a prize. I can't wait!

Two days down. Five to go.

So last Saturday I decided to do a facebook fast. There are too many reasons to enumerate here, but suffice it to say that I was a little obsessed. What? Me---obsessed? I know you're shocked. You'll get over it. I needed to get away from facebook because it was consuming all my time. (The following is going to come as an even bigger shocker to those of you who can't fathom my being obsessed in any form:) Guess what? Other things can take the place of facebook!!! I know! WEIRD! Who'd have thought it?!?!?-- Even the obsessing part. Hooray!

I have become obsessed with NEW things! For instance, did you know that there is this very cool thing called email that works just like facebook except that only the person you are sending it to gets it? Now, of course it doesn't have the stalking factor that I love about facebook. I can only see my friends' responses to me when they WANT me to. But nevertheless, this email thing has it's own primitive charms. Like I said, it is astounding. And believe me, in my facebook deprivation, my friends have been very astounded about just how many emails I can produce in a single day.

So I don't know if staying away from social networking sites is helping me in obsession area. But there are some things I've learned during the facebook fast. (Learning is always good, right?) So here's a few of the things I've noticed since I've been away:

1. I have actually remembered to do some things that I usually forget. (Could facebook deprivation be a cure for A.D.D.?) Chucklehead, you should check it out. It might work for you too.

2. I don't obsess AS MUCH about staying in contact with my friends as usual (This is not a true statement, but I only realized that after I had already written it, and it gives me one more point, so it stays.) And by the way...we are talking about an introvert here...what is my deal with all this reach out and touchy stuff? Is it possible to be an 'I' in real life and an 'E' online?

3. I've had more time for other things (although I've noticed I'm attacking them with the same addictive behavior that some of you witnessed in the facebook arena. (For instance, getting ready to texture, I just couldn't stop masking off my house. I begged my husband to PLEASE start spraying the walls so I could put the tape down. And I admitted I was a green-tape addict. He suggested I get a new addiction.

4. I noticed that when I'm not constantly summing up my life in one sentence statements, I am dying to write something. Who knew that those status updates were satiating my creativity? For every post, there's a story, and while I've not been constantly revealing to the world "what's on my mind" I have had more of an urge to write. I don't know...it could be a good thing, depending on whether you're the writer or the reader of this nonsense.

5. I also found out that some people are texters, some are facebookers, some are emailers, and some are facebook chatters. It is rare that a single person be all of these. I've also noticed that some relationships that exist in one of those realms cannot survive in others. Please don't point out the fact that I didn't mention the 'real world". If it's virtual it IS real right?

Virtuality-- that's why I love facebook. My little world away from the world. See you in five days.

Oops I thought it again!

It happened again. I just caught myself thinking it. It’s still a little bit of an unfamiliar thought for me, so whenever I have it I always stop and reflect. I usually want to share it with someone. I like to nudge whoever is next to me, smile and say in a low voice, “Tomorrow is Sunday! We get to go to church!”

What a change that has been for me over the last few months. There was a time in my life when Sundays were my least favorite day. I dreaded weekends. While the rest of the world was cheering them on, I was left muttering, “You mean it’s here again already?”

We could explore the many why’s of my hating the day: Was it the people you were with every Sunday? Was it the preaching at the church you were at? Was it that you were overworked? Man, I’d sure like to say it was any of those answers. But the truth of it, Sunday had just become a day of performance for me.

No one required it. Sure, I felt some pressure, but I didn’t have to give in. Nope, it was mainly self-induced, much of it brought on by my tendency to offer my services to appease a perfect God. I ignored Him every day and especially on Sunday when I had to take over because I had no time to chat with Him if I was going to get His work done. On Sunday, I also needed to put on an act, so that people would see a “good example” to follow and not a human one. Again, He never asked me to do that. In fact, I have noticed that as a follower, I learn a lot from imperfect individuals who claim their shortcomings and rely on God to make up the difference.

Sundays used to be the culmination of all I lived for. Everything from our family vacation calendar to what clothes I bought were strategically planned because of what took place on Sundays. So services had better have been good. After all, they were the only means we had of judging ‘how we were doing.’ Sunday’s were the test. And so, whether God cared about the results or not, I did. And maybe that was just one more thing to feel guilty about. Sorry, God, to make up for my not caring how You feel, how about I work a little harder and make next Sunday even better? What? You want me to spend time with You? You know nobody really does that.

But now I have found that people do. People do really spend time with Him. People really do fall head over heels in worship of Him. People really do commune with Him every day of their lives, including Sundays.

I have found a wonderful place to spend my Sundays with Him. Yes, there are a lot of people here who are doing it right. They are here because they want to spend time with Him, and their service is sincere. Less emphasis is placed on performance as was expected in the old environment I helped to create for myself and others. More seeking Him and less flailing to please Him goes on here. Here, my heart sings out in beautiful worship with the very spirit of others seekers of Him and failures in life, like me. And it all happens in a setting of uncompromising preaching that shores me up and convicts my heart every time I go.

But it’s not so much the transplant of location that has changed Sundays for me, as much as it has been a change of my own heart. On Sunday, I am there for Him. Not for myself. Not for other people. Not for the work. But for Him. I am thankful to the Lord of the day for allowing me to enter His house tomorrow with awe, gratitude and relief to be there. I truly can say every week that it has been good to be in the house of the Lord.

O come let us worship together!

Psstt---Guess what!!! Tomorrow is Sunday! We get to go to church!

What are you hungry for?

What are you hungry for? And no I don't mean chili cheese fritos, which I am really craving right now, thanks to a friend who just had to bring them up. What I mean is...what is it that you need to have that feeling of ahhhh....satisfaction in this life?

I love this quote by C.S. Lewis. Don't skip it and go on to the rest. For those of you who read my blog and tell me it's the only thing you ever read, let me just clue you in...C.S. Lewis really is a much more noted and talented writer than I, so take a sec and read it. And to the rest of you, stop laughing, Suzette really didn't know and would have skipped his great quote. So here it is:

“Creatures are not born with desires unless satisfaction for those desires exists. A baby feels hunger: well, there is such a thing as food. A duckling wants to swim: well, there is such a thing as water. Men feel sexual desire: well, there is such a thing as sex. If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world. If none of my earthly pleasures satisfy it that does not prove that the universe is a fraud. Probably earthly pleasures were never meant to satisfy it, but only to arouse it, to suggest the real thing. If that is so, I must take care, on the one hand, never to despise, or be unthankful for, these earthly blessings, and on the other, never to mistake them for the something else of which they are only a kind of copy, or echo, or mirage. I must keep alive in myself the desire for my true country, which I shall not find till after death; I must never let it get snowed under or turned aside; I must make it the main object of life to press on to that other country and to help others to do the same.”

The band Downhere has a song about Heaven that says, "From the corner of my eye, there's a tear I'm tryin' to cry...but the feeling can't be found. Like a note thrills in a song, when I play it again, it's gone...cause it was never in the sound." Yeah, there's something out there. Something we want and just can't get a hold of . Something we miss, but we've never had. We can almost taste it...we know it's there.

In Heaven, full robust flavors we've imagined...those whose existence we sometimes doubted, will explode onto our palettes in burst of unbelievable satisfaction. Earth's appeals will vanish in the experience of God. Then, we will realize that all we thought we wanted while on earth was actually just a picture on a menu, tasteless and useless to fill us. What flavor and color and satisfaction we experience here on this earth is only to give us a taste of what is to come. And we will never hunger again. What is it that you are hungry for?

Survey for school age kids:

How do you see yourself compared to others in your peer group? How do they see you? Take this brief survey to find out. If you are not a kid, pass on the link. The results of the survey could tell us a lot about the kids we love.

Yeah, that's right, we love you kids, blah blah blah (jk)...now take the survey!

http://www.surveymonkey.com/s.aspx?sm=MU8JWifjqNCwlwwPsaGPcQ_3d_3d

Things I hate about being a teacher...

Things I hate about being a teacher:

1. Cleaning up vomit.

2. Telling a kid he or she failed a test.

3. Dealing with parents.

4. Keeping records.

5. Goodbyes and transfers.

That's what I don't like about being a teacher. Yeah, I hate those things pretty much. On bad days, it's easy to get discouraged because it's not unusual to have all those things happen on the same day.

But as far as I can think, as much as I hate those things, that's all I can find that I don't like about teaching. I mean, sure there are things I'd change, like maybe we'd have a four day week. Maybe we would start school at 10:00am. I also think instead of snow days we whould have 'sun days' and cancel school for them, and only come to school when it snows. I mean, of all the days I want to be with my students, snowball fight days are at the top of the list. And I'd also like to change that thing where you teach a kid in Kindergarten and then the next time you see them they are in college. That one sucks. But all in all I love it.

Here are just a few of the things I love about teaching:

1. The kids.

2. Watching them listen to me like I have something fascinating to say.

3. Witnessing a breakthrough.

4. Being part of that breakthrough.

5. Field Trips.

6. Fun Fridays.

7. Having fun just 'cause we want to sometimes.

8. Introducing the kids to a new experience.

9. Helping with English!! And especially---diagramming!

10. Seeing my students accomplish more than they thought they could.

11. Seeing them accomplish more than their parents thought they could.

12. Journals.

13. Apples on my desks.

14. Speech!

15. Cool pencils.

16. Playing Math Games.

17. Class Projects.

18. School Spirit.

19. Telling a kid he passed a test he had failed twice before.
20. Giving out candy to the whole class in celebration of it.

So, even though I'm tired, and this week I hit five for five of my top ten most-hated list, I guess I will go in tomorrow. After all, it will be Fun Friday. And who wants to miss that?

And the Winner is....

A week ago, I asked you to take part in a poll: "What is most important in a church?" And you said:

DOCTRINE!

Almost half of you said doctrine was more important that any other thing. 45% of you voted that way. I'm a little surprised, this day in age, with so many people who don't know what they believe. However, those people may not be in the demographic that participated in this poll. I do have many well-educated 'old' christians as friends and your preferences doubtless came shining through. This is an interesting thought. I'd like to know more about the people who chose this answer. I would imagine that although many of you have this priority in common, that you may have very different reasons for choosing it. Too bad the poll didn't have place to 'splain.

Tying for second with 18% each was COMMUNITY and STANDARDS. I expected both of these to do very well in the polls, although for various reasons I would likely consider the groups of people seeking these individual traits to be at opposite ends of the spectrum. What do you think? Do you think of those who are separated in terms of being separated from community? Which churches are more likely to focus on standards, small or large? And does size affect community? I'm pretty sure that many of these options would overlap in different ways for different people.

Next in line was WORSHIP with 9%. This one did surprise me. I have heard so many people say something like, "The preaching was good but I just couldn't take the music." Similarly, I have known people to leave churches because the worship service wasn't what they thought it should be. And then it may be possible that this item would have pulled in more votes if the poll had allowed first and second choices. Because, while many people would definitely shy away from certain congregations where the worship service was uncomfortable, those same people may feel that if doctrine is on the ticket, it must certainly take first place. And then again, I may totally have it figured wrong.

MINISTRY and SIZE tied for last place with only 4% each.

PROGRAMS didn't even make a showing. This I am surprised about, having known people to have sought churches based on what they had for their children, teens etc. However, once again, we must consider that these same people, while looking for programs, might have been primarily more concerned with doctrine, and would look for churches with programs only if they first agreed with them doctrinally.

While doctrine did carry the lead, what is interesting to note is that some of you made a very clear choice not to choose it as most important. Maybe it is a big deal to you, but obviously something else was an even bigger deal. 53% of you were willing to place doctrine in at least the second seat to something you deemed more important. It would be interesting to know how doctrinally-broad people would be willing to differ for the sake of having those other needs met in their lives.

I know in my own life, that some of the people I love the most, some of the neatest people I know, believe differently than I do. We are able to have sweet fellowship together. I love meeting with people who can unaggressively discuss different points of view. A meeting of the minds, where personalities and preferences come through, but never at the cost of brotherly love. It is what I imagine Heaven to be like.

Discussion, conversation, Christians meeting and sharing. In a way, it is what has happened here, in this blog, with this poll. Yep, it's pretty heavenly to me.

Thank you for participating!

Where I went to church today....

Anyway, like I was sayin', crow is the fruit of the sea. You can barbecue it, boil it, broil it, bake it, sautee it. Dey's uh, crow-kabobs, crow creole, crow gumbo. Pan fried, deep fried, stir-fried. There's pineapple crow, lemon crow, coconut crow, pepper crow, crow soup, crow stew, crow salad, crow and potatoes, crow burger, crow sandwich. That- that's about it.

I love Stonegate Fellowship. In spite of what you may have heard or thought about me. And in spite of what I may have said or been like in the past. I love Stonegate.

I'll write more on 'why' later. Just for now know that I am smiling. And "I'll be back."

http://www.stonegatefellowship.com/

What is most important in a Church?

Excited about my first blog-poll!!!

I'll admit I'm a litle surprised by some of the answers, but I'll refrain from commenting until the poll closes. You have one more day, so if you haven't taken it, please do so here -------------------->

I'd also flip if you left me a comment! Thanks

Because You're Right

In school I once wrote an essay titled "Because You're Right." It was all about taking a stand for what you believe and being true to your convictions.

I used to be right about a lot of things. Not anymore. It's kind of a relief.

When I was 'right' i felt kind of obligated to 'share' that with other people. You know, to help them. Pray for them. To convince them so that they too could see the light and live the glorious life that I....well, anyway.....I wanted to convince them for their own good. I was nice about it though. It wasn't like I was pushy. Some people just can't see the truth. I felt sorry for them and continued to pray for their enlightenment while we remained friends. I never estranged myself from people because they believed differently than me. Although, as you realize, I could never be as close to them as I might have liked if only they had believed correctly.

It can be tough when you are standing for what you believe. All that time, I might not have had any deep relationships or close friends but I did have the peace of knowing that I was right.

What a consolation that was!

I wonder what I was thinking. I wonder what I thought Heaven was going to like when all those people were there? Did I think that even there I would receive an extra crown for carrying my torch?

Is there any spiritual blessing for being right? I'm just wondering. In the Bible we see a lot of examples about forbearance, judging, and hypocrisy. Jesus had a lot to say about the Pharisees, who by the way, were doing it by the book. But all in all I'm not seeing a lot of commendation coming from the Lord toward anyone for the sheer recognition of someone's being right.

But maybe I'm wrong on that. I'm sure you'll let me know. Or maybe you'll just "pray for me."

What would you search for in a church if in fact you searched for a church?

Have you ever given any thought to why you like your church? What makes it special to you? What about your church would make it difficult to leave?

If you found yourself without a church home tomorrow, (maybe due to a move or something) what would you look for in a church? I know, I know. You probably already have a church home and you're not anricipating a move. But it still might not be a bad idea to make a list of what you would want your church to be like. It could kind of keep you on the ball, making sure you know where you are on things. (And where your church is on things.) A little introspection and an honest look at things is seldom a bad idea.

Would you sacrifice believing identically to find real Christians living in community? Would you sacrifice your worship-style preferences to find a church with programs to raise a family you're struggling to raise on your own? Would you sacrifice ministry opportunities to find a church that teaches godly living? Yes, these are difficult questions. Maybe it's time to take an honest look at what's most important.

In the meantime, PLEASE take a moment to take my poll on the right ------------> It is completely anonymous. So now is your chance to tell the truth about what is important to you, even if you don't think your priorities are in order.

Maybe it's time to set those priorities straight. Maybe it's time to come to some hard conclusions about your spiritual state or that of your church. And maybe it's time to just say a big "thank you" to the Lord because you find out He's got you exactly where He wants you.

So what is important to you in a church? Maybe it's time to think about that.

Hey, but aren't you supposed to....?

I just realized that we didn't get a gift from church yesterday for being a first-time visitor. Wait a minute. That's just not right. Or is it?

There was also an obvious lack of a written program. In visiting churches, some things have just come to be expected. Others are not.

Yesterday the passages used were not displayed on a big screen. The pastor encouraged us to turn in our Bibles, for what reminded me very much of a sword drill. Twice during the service my son asked me if it was raining before we realized it was the sweet sound of the tiny rustlings of thousands of pages turning the leaves of God's Word.

Sweet.

2:29

Cool stuff, this sitemeter gadget I added to the blog. I found out a bit of interesting trivia today:

The average length of stay for a reader is 2 minutes and 29 seconds. I seriously hope that wasn't thrown off by someone who forgot and left the browser open while they went to lunch!

You know, if this was a paper copy, I may start to think that my blog is only being read in the.....naw! And then used for.....certainly not! (Note to self: This is why you must never publish book. Or if you do, publish Kindle version only.)

So anyway, just wanted to say thanks for the 2:29!

(Outhouse photo was taken in Mason County at an old school site. This is the girls' facilities. The boys' is down the lane. The old school has been torn down, but as the song goes, 'the outhouse is still standing'. This picture was taken mere moments before we realized the outhouse was occupied--by a skunk!)

First Day in Massage Therapy

My intense back pain finally drove me to the chiropractor. I had tried the regular doc. People warned me that all he would do would be to give me muscle relaxers and run tests and MRI’s. They were right. So, I finally listened to some of my friends who recommended chiropractic treatment and massage therapy.

My first mistake might have been going there in the first place. I stuck with my old chiropractor based solely on the fact that he had a massage therapist right there in the office. I was hoping the massage would be part of my treatment. Imagine! A doctor ordering you to get a massage! I went in and laid down on the table. Ambient music played and water gurgled in a miniature fountain. And then she walked in.

I know people who talk about their these ‘healers’ in saintly terms, calling them miracle workers and so on. Not this one. She was the Monstrous Masseuse from Hell. My first clue should have been when she laughed and called me her victim. I thought she was kidding. Guess I thought wrong.

My second mistake was telling her where it hurt most. Take my advice if you ever go to one of these “therapists”: DON’T TELL WHERE IT HURTS! These therapists are paid on commission based on how bad they hurt you. Run if you can. Lie if you have to. But no. I had to tell her the exact location of the damaged nerve. She worked it till I cried. When she had succeeded in driving all feeling from my back, she had the gall to ask why I wasn’t flinching anymore. Unfortunately, by then I was too weak to slap her.

Church Search Volume 1

I had thought about writing about our hunt for a new church home. You know, kind of a journal about what we found at various places. Our journey...kind of a “Former Pastor’s Family Seeks New Church Home” series. But then I thought “Aawww, we will find one so soon, that there won’t be much to write about. We won’t see much in the brief time we are between churches.”

Wrong.

And we’ve seen it all, brother. (Ummm, what I meant to say is that they all have their own unique qualities.)

And then there’s the question of how much to say. Do I mention the NAMES of the churches we go to? Sidethought: mentioning names in conjunction with church-going always brings up Ray Stevens‘ Mississippi Squirrel Revival, “And then they started naming names!” (Okay, if you just got totally lost just now, you have more pressing issues than reading this blog. You need to stop and google the above and come back when you are more culturally balanced.)

But seriously. If I blog about my church search experience do I mention the names of the churches? That would certainly make all of this writing more useful than just being an entertaining (grant me this one) blog read. People could use the unbiased honest assessment of my experience to help them pick the next church to visit (or not) in their own church-home quest. Cause if I know anything, it’s that there are a LOT of people looking for a church home right now. And no, they are NOT all related to me!

And then there’s the other benefit (evil laugh). As Suzette said the other day, “Yeah, I read your blogs...whenever they’re about me.” Fame is waiting at my door if I just go ahead and say who I’m blogging about. People like nothing more than to read about themselves. So there you have it. If I write about churches, church officials everywhere will literally flock to my blog to see what I have to say about their church. Was it friendly enough? Did I like my guest gift? (why, yes I did!) What did I think about the message? The music? I would be like a mystery church shopper! Imagine! You may have a mystery guest at YOUR church this Sunday. They will observe everything. And they’ll go home and blog about it. And then...and then...I don’t know what then. It just could happen. That’s all I’m sayin’.

So whattayathink? Should I ‘start naming names’?

"Creative Reading"

I drew a picture--scribbles for sure

He hung it up

On the refrigerator door.

He could have said

"This is no good,"

And my childish heart would know it's true.

I also wrote a note--in crayon

I made a mess

Of what I meant to say.

A wordless attempt

With letters askew

But He chose to read it, "I love you."

Boatrocker

You think I’ve rocked the boat up till now? Just wait. Before now, I was doing everything I could to hold it still. If I breathed wrong I felt bad and apologized. I wanted you to be happy with the equilibrium of the vessel.

There were times I wanted to stand up and see the view. You saw it. The others on board did too. But I sat still. Maybe it is not something you required of me. But it is something I felt required to do. Nowadays I am running to the edge to peer over, and people are noticing. I know you want me to be still, but just wait. It’s gonna get worse.

You see I’ve been noticing some good things coming from what I’ve been doing lately. For one, I am getting to see a lot that I had missed. I can breathe the salt air. I like the “free” feeling of the wind running over my hair and skin. I like being able to see more than just the deck of the boat of life I’m on. There’s more out there than I knew.

But that’s only a side benefit. Daring to venture up from the plank floor and over to the side was the best thing I ever did because it showed me I could be all right even if I wasn’t in control. When I stood the boat tossed. I was afraid. But I was okay. The dread that had accumulated in my heavy heart over many years of terrified crouching dissolved into the past. My fear melted away. My fear of being seasick. My fear of falling over. My fear of disappointing you.

And I’m brought to mind of another great boat rocker. Remember the story of Jonah? God rocked the boat he was on. And when he did, the others on board noticed. The one running from God was thrown over. The boat rocking acted kind of as a purge. If God hadn’t rocked it, Jonah would not have repented and the others on board wouldn’t have seen the power of God.

And you know what? It may seem like it’s me rocking your world. But is not really me. I don’t have that kind of control. So...

Hold on. I know it’s rough. I know it’s scary. I can’t hold it still. You’re gonna have to do you’re own holding on. And if you are bound and determined to sail on a steady boat, you can even try your hand at holding it still a while. But I’m not gonna sit down.

Besides, unless you’re running away to Joppa, you’ll probably make it through.

Book Review: "Fearless" by Max Lucado

What if I lose my job? What if I make a mistake with my children? What if the thing I fear the most come to pass?

What are you afraid of?

In his most recent book, Fearless, Max Lucado dares to approach the very topics we are afraid to bring up:

Fear of not mattering

Fear of Disappointing God

Fear That God Is Not Real

Perhaps our biggest fear should be that God is Who we act like He is. We paint God as a tame deity. In our out-of-control world, we like to think we have a God we can control. But thanks to God He is bigger than we can imagine! He is bigger than our fears, and He is not a tame God!

This book is a quick and easy read. The author uses lots of imagery, simple language and clever antidotes. Every chapter begins with a quote from Jesus on the topic of fear. These topics range from fear of violence to financial fears and everything in between. I even think it would be an appropriate read for school-age children. I’m handing the book to my ten-year old son in the morning. What better gift can I give him than to lead him to the source of fearless living?

You’re so vain. You prob’ly think this blog is about you.

You know, as a wannabe writer, this is one of my biggest fears. I’m afraid that people will take my writing the wrong way. Or worse, they will think it’s about them when it’s not.

The last thing I want to do is alienate friends and family. I would, however, like to be able to write things that would touch other people. And frankly, most stories with enough meat to touch someone else have to come from real life. Similarly, I’d like to be able to get up on my soapbox and have a good rant, without someone thinking I’m ranting about them. And in case you’re wondering, no, no one has accused me of any of that...yet.

But it could happen. Especially if I unleash myself to write as I’d like. As I feel led. It’s similar to the way my husband the preacher felt when he would preach something God had laid on his heart and people were convinced it was about them. One day he told me he was having trouble thinking of anything to preach about that wasn’t going on in someone’s life. Because, like it or not, it’s not good preaching if it’s not real life. The Bible is about real life and if it is truly relevant, it is going to sound...well, familiar.

But, like my preacher husband was sometimes wont to do, I have chased a rabbit...

John Boy Walton...now there’s a writer with a problem. He knew all of 20 people. A dozen of them were his family. And when he dared mention them in his story he had more trouble than he knew what to do with. That could be me someday. Or if I know you...it could be you!

I’m not gonna lie to you. You could end up in a story. I mean after all, you are hilarious (I meant to say interesting) material. I can’t pass up what you say and do and never include it in anything I write. So beware! If I know you, you could end up in print. Just thought you’d like to know. But I’d like to let you in on a little secret about us writer type folks: Our stories are not 100% true. For instance, something you say might end up as a snazzy quote made by a flashy blonde character named Suzette. That doesn’t necessarily mean that you ARE Suzette. Suzette may eat lobster and you are allergic to lobster. She may drink and hang out at night clubs, and you hang out at Baskin Robbins. Suzette may be a little more complex than she seems, you know. Suzette could even represent every blonde friend I have, heaven forbid!

No, this is not a new trick of mine or something designed to throw you off the scent. Writers have always done this. Remember Nellie from the Little House Books? (Or for Suzette who never reads: Remember Nellie from the tv show “Little House on the Prairie”?) Well Nellie was a compilation of people Laura Ingalls had known in her childhood. It seems that anyone who was ever mean to little Laura was rolled into one neat little package named Nellie Oleson. I wonder what would have happened if any one of those snotty Nellie’s read the book, recognized some of her misdeeds but found far more evil accredited to her than she ever really did. Thankfully, Laura Ingalls Wilder was smart enough not to use any of Nellie’s actual names. Like me. I don’t really know a Suzette. (Calm down, Suzette, I do know you...just not a real person named Suzette. I’ll explain later.)

All this to say: Read away. Take it or leave it. I hope you like it. And if I’m any good at all, some of it will sound like it’s written about or to someone you know. But don’t be vain. It’s not about you.

At least not entirely. (Insert evil laugh.)

I am an UN-reasonable Mom

I always thought I was pretty understanding about boys and their ways. But apparently I’m not. Some of my friends can’t understand why I let my son keep an ordinary yard lizard in the house for a year and a half. Some parents shake their heads when they see my children swinging from ropes and hanging from trees or dancing on the rooftop. They don’t understand why my kids are roaming the allies, diving in dumpsters and dragging home trash. They make their kids throw things away---the nerve! Some kids’ parents even have the audacity to make their children sleep in beds instead of on the floor piled high with the just-folded covers they drag from the cupboards. They have silly rules like “no food in the bedroom”. We don’t even have a “no snails in the bedroom” rule. You know, most moms and dads just don’t “get” why kids would paint snails and then load them into electric trains until the snails are dazed, forgotten or begin to stink.

I’ve known parents who never allow their kids to dig networks of grave-sized holes in the backyard. Nor do they let their children run pell-mell on four-wheelers inside the yard in the city limits, crashing into sheds and brick walls. Some parents have a problem with bows and arrows. Others have fear of explosives kids create out of old batteries and papers. What’s wrong with scraping gunpowder out of caps until you have enough for the big one? And matches? Well, they are baby toys compared to what we allow. My oldest sons most asked questions start with “what is____?” and end with “...how flammable is it?” Parents who may be okay with such outdoor activities bordering on pyromania sometimes object to more domestic set-ups like science labs in the bedroom. They don’t understand the importance of soaking turtle food in sprite in a open container. They can’t seem to grasp that anything thrown in the trash in fair game and will end up in a water bottle atop the lava lamp to let it “boil”. What’s the problem with storing fifty cans and bottles of smelly goo of various origins on your desk to watch it grow? Of course we need to see how air affects the specimens, so they must all be left uncovered as they seep. Most of these experiments are simply messy and sticky when they spill onto the floor, books and the clothing that we use as a dropcloth in the experiment area. But many of them “boil” until no one can pass the room without inquiring about the odor.

But me....I am a reasonable mom. Or so I thought...until today, when my son brought in mosquitos he found in a pail outside. When I asked him to please take them outside, I heard that old familiar whining again, “Ahhhhh, Mom. You never let us do anything!”

That’s it. I’m an unreasonable Mom.

Grandmama's Quilt

It's funny how a single object can remind you so much of the person it belonged to. Even if you never saw them use it or enjoy it, is connected to them. One such object, was this quilt, made by my Grandmother.

I remember one day going over to Grandmama's house to ask her to teach me how to make a quilt. I wanted to enter quilting in a competition at school. Grandmama was the kind of clothing seamstress that held up the fabric to you and laid it out on the table to cut. She got her patterns from things in her mind. Her quilting was the same way. She knew how a certain design should go whether she had an example or not. If she wanted to add a picture to her work, she would applique or embroider it on from a design she got from a paper towel or a coloring book. Grandmama never threw away anything. It might be useful or valuable someday. So when we found stashes of coloring pages, paper towels, napkins and greeting cards scattered throughout her house when she died we knew what they were for.

When I went to see her that day it was like she had been expecting me. Our new-found common interest in quilting would be something we could talk about and discuss for years to come. She dug through boxes and trunks and closet and brought out treasure troves of quilts. Where had all these been hiding? It was an absolute treasure trove, hidden away for fear that the priceless items might be unappreciated, mishandled and marred. Though she had dozens of handmade, beautiful quilts, her bed was covered in a store-bought comforter. All of those heirlooms were tucked away, like the paper towels, for 'someday'.

This day she took the time to lay each one out on the bed. I looked on in wonder as colors and patterns emerged from their hiding spots. She explained to me how just about every quilt consists of small patterns that repeat themselves to make a larger pattern. I was hooked. After that I saw patterns everywhere and could easily remember the names of many designs.

She chose a pattern for my first quilt that was very simple. It consisted of rectangular pieces of material to form a block. Then each block was turned a certain way to make diagonal designs across the quilt.

The design it created was called a rail fence. You could just see the fence swooping up and down across the quilt on the bed like it would if you were driving past it in the country. The example quilt that she had of that particular design was not pretty. The color combination was what I've heard people call "God-awful," although I was never really sure what that meant. but it couldn't be good. She explained to me her choice for the colors.

My Great-Grandmama (her mother) was bed-ridden most of the time. She was going blind. As the story goes, she told my Grandma near the end of her life that she wanted a rail-fence quilt. So, Grandmama went out and bought the fabric new (something she rarely did) at TG&Y, I think. She bought the brightest, cheeriest colors and strongest contrasts she could find so Great-Grandmama would be able to see the design in it. The quilt was put together pretty quickly and machine quilted to save time. It was then used as the top quilt of the bed where my Great Grandmother spent her last days. I'm not sure who the quilt was really for--Grandmama seemed to get a lot of satisfaction out of knowing that she had given her something she had wanted and could enjoy.

It was one of the few times anyone got opportunity to enjoy Grandmama's quilts in her lifetime.

When my sisters and I went through her things, we lamented that we had so few stories to go with the items we found. We wished these elements had been everyday parts of her life that she could share with us. But we do have our memories, and we do have our laughs connected to them.

One day, I took the red and yellow rail-fence to the park for a picnic with my sisters. As I spread it out, I remembered the day she had spread it out for me. I thought of Great-Grandmama and her dying days. Quite sentimentally, I said to my sisters, "Wouldn't Grandmama be glad to know we were enjoying her quilt this way?" There was a silence. Then, as the emotion of the moment wore off and we thought about what was said, there was a sputter, then laughter. "No, she wouldn't," we agreed. But we sat down on the quilt and enjoyed her memory, and the quilt, anyway.

On a hunt...

Did you ever hear someone up in years when they were looking for something? They might say "I'm huntin' my glasses," or "I'm on a hunt...". Well, this morning I am on a hunt. I'm hunting for God. Not just hoping to see Him today. Not just wishing to experience Him. I'm hunting Him.

I don't just want to hear it

I want to feel it too

It's less like I'm trying

It's more like I'm dying to know You.

I've 'known' God for years. Served Him just as long. But recently I learned what it's like to really have fellowship with Him. Since that happened, I'm never satisfied with my old way of doing things.

Old streets don't lead back where they used to

We blaze new trails to ancient places

I still love You just like I used to

But this love won't fit spreadsheets

Being a creature of habit, I need to remind myself that my old ways of "relationship" are not valid options for me. I used to try to work God like He was a formula. How sad that must be for Him. How sad that was for me. My old ways? They were ways of working to earn a sense of fulfillment and satisfaction instead of being fulfilled in Him. Yeah, they were those ways of waking up and not acknowledging Him. That is, until I needed something. My old ways were going about my day and if something happened that touched me in a meaningful way it was just extra. Like icing on a cake. Well, now that I've had icing I don't want plain cake anymore.

The last few days, I've been eatin' plain old sponge cake and I'm not happy about it at all. I don't know exactly how to go about getting back that feeling that I want. (Yes, fellow Baptists---feeling---it's not a bad word!) So I looked in my head for Scripture this morning to see what I know about looking for God and getting close to Him. I came up with: "Draw nigh to God and He will draw nigh to you" and "Seek ye the Lord while He may be found." Both begin with me. So I will begin with something pretty simple. I will start looking for him. My day then will begin with a cry to Him, telling Him just how much I long for His presence.

I'm dying to swim in Your sea
I'm dying to taste and see
I'm dying in all that I do
So come to me 'cause I can't get to You*

*words in italics are lyrics from "Dying to Know You" by the band downhere.

(Leave me a comment...Let me know your thoughts on seeking God and relationship with Him. Have you ever felt Him? Is it a priority to feel Him everyday? How do you feel about iced cake versus plain?)

Closet Artist (volume 4)

Everything was black here. The walls around me. The canvas. Even the tubes of paints held nothing but blackness.

From the dark interior of my closet studio I imagined beautiful venues. I dreamed of the freedom of an artist to do what she was created to do. I thought about how far I had come, from the little girl, through all the ugliness. My flesh literally ached to be outside. Nothing could penetrate this world. No one came knocking.

One day, a speck of light came through a crack in the door. It wasn’t much, but it landed on a bit of blue paint. I wished for more light. I cracked the door a little more and a dim shaft cast weak light onto colors waiting to be awakened. Violets, reds and oranges. Fear reminded to stay where I was safe, but beauty and life begged me to leave. Little by little I was prodded to go out.

At first I came and went. Then, one day I brought out all my paintings to take a good look at them. Some were not any good. That thought didn’t crush me like it used to. Admitting and accepting their faults cleared my eyes to see beauty in some of the others. Some of them were actually quite good. Though imperfect. I hung one on the wall. Yes, there was danger in displaying it. Danger that it wasn’t good enough. Danger that someone might even copy it as they had copied the childish princess on butcher paper. But there was a certain goodness in seeing that I was okay enough with myself to display it and say, “Yes, this is mine. Like it or not. Take it or leave it. It is mine. It may not be the best, but it is my best. And it is honestly and authentically mine."

Some time has passed since I've taken up living again. I've even renewed contact with the One who inspired me to paint in the first place. Life is good and inspiration is around every corner. There is more to paint than ever.

Maybe someday I’ll even take up teaching again. I don’t know. But I do know a few things I’ll change if I do: I’ll show students my own work, knowing that real works by real people will bring more discussion and thought than a fake. My students will have the benefit of seeing my mistakes. They may even come up with ways to avoid my mistakes. Who knows? Maybe they’ll develop an eye for faulty tendencies in their own work. They can learn to be artists, not copy machines. And I would be more proud of that than of anything.

Oh sure, there will always be people who would rather not see an imperfect work displayed. Maybe they would rather I worked in the closet and only brought out the best pieces. Or maybe they would like me to bring a fake to show and tell. Some, knowing my history and seeing my blunders, might like for me to give up the notion of being an artist at all. I understand their misgivings. I faced them every day in the darkness of the closet, and most days in the light of outdoors too. But the end of the story is that I know what i was created for. Is perfection required? Or is it enough for me to do my best and honestly assess myself and my work and share what I learn along the way?

And speaking of sharing what I've learned, here's a biggie. f you’re gonna copy, copy the Original Artist, not me. But I’m gonna keep on painting, too. No, it won’t always be pretty. But I’ll do my best. There will be days that I will question my right to paint as much as anybody does. And when things get ugly it’ll take everything I have to stay in the light.

So do me a favor, okay? If you see me with my brush in hand, heading for the closet, gently take me aside. I don’t want to live in darkness anymore.

John 3:21