Brad on Luxury

With this morning's torrential rainfall, needless to say, the pool at the club was shut down for chemical balancing. Mary was in her swimsuit before the breakfast dishes had even gotten suds'ed in the sink and we had to explain to her that the pool was closed for the day. Well ... let's just say ... she was disappointed. My ears are still ringing.

After lunch, Steve needed to make a Wal-Mart run and I suggested that if they weren't too expensive, he might want to get the kids one of those little plastic pools to put on the deck. He thought it was a great idea.

Steve headed off to Wally World and soon returned with a bright blue wading pool in the back of his truck. The kids were delighted. I thought Mary would be the only taker ... but Brad was just as excited ... and he soon emerged from his room wearing his bathing suit and goggles. He didn't care if there was only a foot of water to be explored ... he wanted goggles.

After the pool was full and brimming over with toy fish and bubble wands, I took leave of my little aquatic cuties and settled back on the sofa to watch them through the French doors. They giggled and splashed ... blew bubbles and jumped ... and then Brad suddenly felt the need to relax. I watched him climb in the pool and lay back. Then he reared back and hollered,

"MOM!!!!!!!"

I opened the door and looked down into his face. He was floating there with his hands folded behind his head, as if here were on the poop deck of a Carnival Cruise. He gazed up at me with the most peaceful, perfectly happy expression and he said,

"Mom, could you please get me a Diet Coke with Lime? I'm pretending that this is the life."

Help Me Believe, 'Cause I Don't Want to Miss the Miracles

If I were to try to explain the last two years of my life to you, I'm pretty sure you would walk away from our time together needing a Xanax and possibly even a good, stiff drink - like, even if you are Baptist. :)

It's been a ride - the Thelma and Louise sort - and that is just putting it mildly. It began with walking through a divorce with my sister and for all those months I felt like my whole family was running around Donna and the nieces with buckets, baskets, and squeegees - just waiting for the messy clean ups to take place. It was horrific and in many ways ... it continues to be.
Then no sooner did we get Donna through the "Big D" (and I don't mean Dallas), and a well-timed phone call to a girlfriend revealed that her life was, as we spoke, falling completely apart. After almost 19 years of marriage, she found out that her husband - the one that had been the picture perfect Christian husband and father - was living a complete and total double life. Oh how I wish I could give you the details ... you would not ... could not ... believe them. It makes me need to watch a Madea movie about once every three days. Tyler Perry just needs to send me a bill for all of the counseling he's given me. It's like kicking complete butt without having to leave my living room. It's glorious.

I have to admit ... I've struggled ...
I'm struggling ...

It's like for many, many months I've been seeing the very worst of humanity. I've had no issues with God ... in fact, the only upside to the whole thing is that it's ushered me into knowing Him more fully and trusting in His plans for us, more and more. BUT, let me say ... it's not the same with people.

People are giving me pause.
Some Christians are giving me greater pause.
Oh snap, I feel a Madea moment coming on ... I'll be right back ...

It's like I've been drowning in tears ... the tears of those I love ... and it's all because of the hurts inflicted on them by people. People that are supposed to care. People that were supposed to love and cherish them no matter what. People that claim to walk in love.

You could fool me.

It's been heavy. Really heavy. I don't want to lose heart. I don't want to fall into complete cynicism and I'm not ... but ... I'm learning that it's a slippery slope.

Then, along came Aster.

I took a road trip this past weekend to visit the friend who is trying to pick up the pieces. I took the buckets, baskets, and squeegees with me in the back of the Cruiser.

Before we picked up the last gal at the airport, I was alone in the car for several hours with my friend, Renee. They are in the process of adopting a sweet baby girl from Ethiopia. You can read all about it on her blog.
Basically, as we drove along I-85, she got the news that one of her best friend's daughters, Hope, was in Ethiopia on a missions trip and the host family she was staying with drove her two hours to the orphanage where Aster (which is her Ethiopian name) is living. They had informed Hope that the orphanages over there were not very open to outside visitors and the odds of seeing Aster were slim. If she were given the opportunity to see her, it would most likely be from a distance. Well, the unexpected happened and not only did Hope get to see Aster ... but she got to hold and play with her for over an hour. All the way across the world ... in a small orphanage ... there was Hope.

Hope in unexpected places.

Right slam in the middle of our road trip ... while we were talking about all the disgusting details of our friend's situation ... Renee's phone rang ... and it was her friend Holly ... telling her that Hope had been able to hold Aster and she was online chatting with her about it. For the next several miles, Renee talked through Holly on the phone, to Hope in Ethiopia. I drove along beside her as Renee asked all kinds of motherly questions ... and laughed ... and cried ... and giggled when she found out Aster's feet were ticklish. I thought to myself, "What polarized conversation is going on in this car today. In this corner we have a life that has been torn completely apart. In the other corner, we have a life that is just about to begin."

Renee had no idea the thoughts that were going through my head. I felt a surge of emotion welling up inside me the longer I heard the joyful conversation happening in the passenger seat beside me. I honestly felt ...

hope.

Hope in mankind. Hope in the future. Hope that even in the darkest places - at the darkest moments - life can begin again. People are still out there doing good on behalf of others ... like the family that selflessly drove two hours so that a young teenage girl from America just might get a glimpse of a baby that will be the daughter of a couple they will most likely never meet or befriend on this earth. That a friend would sit patiently and lovingly on the phone and talk with Renee while typing furiously on the computer with Hope to relay the fresh messages of Aster's juicy sweetness.

I don't know, for some reason, all of that going on in the car simultaneously - that polarization between a life crumbling and a life beginning - it brought some things full circle for me.

Simply put, I needed it.

It helped me draw a deep spiritual breath and it opened my eyes to see that in all of the recent events encircling my life ... I stand a good chance of becoming jaded - to a certain degree. I believe that God is still Sovereign. I believe that good is still happening in the world. I believe that happiness is not an endangered species.

But - these are weighty days.

My heart's desire is that the tension created by this whirling dervish of late will only serve to help my unbelief.

'Cause I don't want to miss the miracles.

The Fate of John and Kate

I was just online and I'll have to confess this to you in order to make my point ...

I Googled myself.

I know, I felt like a silly goose ... but I did. In my defense, however, there was a reason why I was up after midnight typing my own name into the search bar. I mean, come on, what sane person would just Google their own name without a good reason?
::nervouslaughter::

I had a friend email me tonight to tell me she had someone who wanted a sample of my writing for some potential work and I wondered if any of my devotions would be easy to find if the person Googled me. So, I did a test run.


One of the entries immediately caught my eye because it contained the first line of my devotion entitled, "Crow Anyone?" I clicked on it and apparently in January of this year, a church in Kentucky used it in their women's newsletter. Funny how I wasn't aware they used it ... but I digress ...
As I scrolled down further in the newsletter, there was a huge picture of Kate Gosselin with John's arms around her and he was kissing the side of her head. Next to the picture it said that Kate was going to be their featured speaker in March and the title of her talk was going to be,

"Jesus - the Center of Successful Families"

Given the prime-time events of tonight, I sighed heavily and felt a lump come up in my throat when I read those words. That was in March, people. This is June. Do the math.

Now, I must also confess that I have not been on the Gosselin band-wagon, like apparently most Americans have been. Had my friend, Debbie King, not told me about them over spring break, I would still be in the dark. My heavens, I'm just now settling down from Jack Bauer being left on death's door in the season finale of 24 ... who are the Gosselins??? I mean, really? But, I have since then - quickly - caught up on the John and Kate situation and apparently things are not looking so rosey for them tonight.

So what has happened? I can't imagine that Kate stood in front of that church full of women in Kentucky a few months ago and didn't know that the words coming out of her mouth contained a pretty high percentage of crap. I know that is a bit harsh ... but what I mean by that is Kate was doing what the culture demanded of her. Rally a group of Christian women and throw in a celebrity mom and that is a recipe for revival.
I've been wrestling a bit in my pilgrimage these days with a statement made by my minister in a recent Community Group meeting we held at our house. He quoted:

"The Gospel came to the Greeks and the Greeks turned it into a philosophy.
The Gospel came to the Romans and the Romans turned it into a system.
The Gospel came to the Europeans and the Europeans turned it into a culture.
The Gospel came to America and the Americans turned it into a business."

As Tyler Perry's, "Madea" says, "That thing set down in my spirit ..." and it has been churning around ever since. That is such a powerfully profound statement. We have turned it into a business. Would John and Kate have dared show up at that church and said, "Ladies, we need your help. Our marriage is barely hanging on by a thread." Or did Kate put on her happy face and talk about how Jesus is at the center of successful families? Well, the truth is, Jesus is at the center of successful families ... but obviously no matter what the truth was in the reality of their lives ... they were paid to come and talk about how great everything was and how they owed it all to Jesus. And that would be awesome ... if it had been true for them. But somewhere along the way, the truth and integrity of it all got traded for the "business" of it all. What are we doing?

I don't even know how to end this blog ... or where I'm trying to land this plane ... I'm just frustrated. Some of what it stirs up in me, I can't even go into right now. It's too late and there's too much. I just had to journal how incredibly weird it made me feel to see that in the newsletter knowing that tonight the Gosselin's pretty much called it quits on national television. That is quite a leap from the March pep-rally for John, Kate, and Jesus.

I can't help but wonder if they'd be just fine ... John, Kate, and Jesus ... if they'd just stayed away from the cameras and concentrated on what "reality" really means.

What a sad irony.

Life is messy for everyone. None of us are exempt from the ups and downs of life on planet earth. But, I will say that something like this often helps me look at my own life and relationships and it usually makes me very thankful for what I have and who is in my life. This is a prime example.

Tomorrow, Steve will get home from what will most likely be a painful commute from JFK - only because it always is - and he will weather it because he wants to keep us living near family. He weathers a lot for our happiness. I will squeeze him extra tight when he gets here and I will be thankful for what we have together and the authenticity of what we are working towards.

This all began tonight by me feeling like a silly goose for Googling my own name.

But as I draw this blog to a close, I realize after finding what I did ... then thinking about this poor family and how our culture has somewhat "fed" their demise and done so with some nice, tidy sprinklings of Jesus here and there ...
and how it has made me reflect upon my own life and priorities and how we must all guard and nurture our individual relationships with authenticity and truth ...

It leads me to the conclusion that I'd much rather be a goose ...

than a Gosselin.

Echos From the Past

My weekend was turned upside down with a call from a friend.
"Hey, I just got back from an estate sale near Pinehurst and I think you need to hear about it."
She went on to tell me that the family of a deceased couple was selling to the walls and amongst the tagged items were several musical instruments. By 4:30 on Friday, Mabes, Donna, Mama, and I were piled in Mabes new Honda and heading south. I guess you could say we were all in one Accord. Sorry, I couldn't resist.

The adventure saw me headed home with a handmade mandolin - in immaculate condition. However, that is only part of the story. What struck me so undeniably, was the feeling that came over me as I walked around the home of the late couple. Now, I've been to many, many estate sales over the years ... but none that got to me quite like this one. Room by room their story began to come into focus. The walls were dotted with framed photographs and paintings of them separate and together - all engaging in different activities at home and abroad. She was a first generation Italian-American and he was a first generation South American-American. (How exactly do you say that correctly?) They looked like movie starts in their younger years. I purchased an 11x14 black and white of them decked out in their riding clothes. I saw their riding boots in the master bedroom and their saddles were in the garage. They had matching fencing attire, a slew of photography equipment and cameras, several unique acoustic instruments, bookshelves lined with language-tutorials and travel journals. The lady of the house had several fur stoles and wraps in the closet, along with a classic steamer-trunk she used for traveling.

Their lives seemed so real to me as I made my way from room to room. It appears as though they really lived life to its fullest. It would seem from the inventory that they not only enjoyed a very diverse array of activities ... but more importantly ... they enjoyed them together. What encouraging evidence to leave behind for those who would observe their relationship posthumously.

I will never know just how in love they were. I will never eat a meal with them or sit as they show the freshly developed photographs from their latest vacation. I will never watch as they comb their horses down after a late-afternoon ride, or laugh as they don their fencing suits and go at it with swords. No, I'll never get the opportunity to know them in the purest sense of the word
but ...
I did get to walk amongst all the memory-markers and imagine ...
and that was enough.

I hope that Mrs.Louise Menoiz would be happy to know that I respectfully took a little bit of her life back home with me to pass on to the next generation. The handmade mandolin, given to her for her 14th birthday in 1926, will provide our home with many moments of pleasure, music, and family. Those immortal qualities of life transcend the here and now and somehow provide me with a very tangible connection with the woman I never knew. There is something very authentic about this. I can't quite put my finger on it ... but it moves me. It is like getting a tiny glimpse of the grander script and how human lives touch and overlap in ways we don't even realize.

There seems to be something very spiritual about that ...
and the gift goes on ...

Brad on Diagnosis

It's Saturday ... and it's warm. Brad's soccer team had a double header today to make up for a rain out earlier in the season. He came off the field all red-faced and winded. He was so thankful when the coach said the game was over.
"THANK THE LORD!", bellowed from his mouth as he said goodbye to his buddies and headed for the car.
As we pulled out onto the highway, I said, "Boy, you must be tired. I've never seen you pass up Oreos before. Are you okay?"
He sat there a second and then said, "Well my stomach is hurting. Either I've got a cramp or I woke up on the wrong side of my bellybutton."

Summertime ... and the livin' is easy ...

Dental Flaws

Bradley has been going though the snagglepuss phase of life with some teeth in ... others out ... some on their way ... some not even budging. It's always a good look. His two top permanent teeth are fully grown in now and looking pretty dapper. However, both of the teeth on each side of the front ones are still missing.

Okay, Brad tends to brush his teeth like his hands are numb. He puts no elbow grease into the process whatsoever and I doubt that the plaque considers him much of a threat whatsoever. This is especially true in the mornings before school and at the height of Brad groaning about how sleepy he is and how he wants to go back to bed. I have always felt that the numb arm- brushing is his dramatic way of making his point with hopes that I will look at him and say, "Oh dear boy, you are obviously so tired that I shan't dare send you off to school. Please forgive me for waking you and by all means, go back to bed. School can wait." Consequently, those words have never fallen from my lips and aren't likely to any time soon.

The other day, we were in the middle of the morning ritual and I just couldn't stand it anymore. I looked at Brad and said, "Hand me that toothbrush. I cannot stand this sad display of oral hygiene any longer!" Shocked and perked up at the threatening sound of my voice, Brad reluctantly handed over his Spongebob Reach and I put one hand on his chin and took the brush with the other saying, "OPEN up!" With a gleam of complete terror in his eyes, Brad unhinged his jaw and let me in. I set to scrubbing those two Chicklets in the front and apparently in my zeal, I brushed on his gums where the new teeth haven't broken the surface yet.

Brad recoiled with a wince and those famous eyebrows furrowed. That, coupled with the frothy bubbles pouring from his mouth made him look a little like an angry Rottweiler. He spit and began rubbing his gums beside the front teeth. Then he looked up at me and said, "Gee mom, do you MIND ... these baby's ain't born yet!!!!"

Can you be reported for dental abuse? I was only trying to help ... ::nervous laughter::

mile marker I-40

Wow ... well then ... ahemmmmm ... geeze ...

I just turned 40.

It's not that it's all that bad. It's just really ... strange. After being the baby o' my family ... I'm always the young one - the spring chicken of our brood. That was all working really well for me until Father Time tapped me on the shoulder this month and I realized that two crows must have landed on my face when I wasn't looking. I see their little footprints around both of my eyes.

They're truly hard to digest ... those two numbers ... 4 and 0. On their own they are quite benign. Put them together and you have good reason to buy a whole bottle of Merlot all for yourself. It is rather tempting to fall into a sullen state of denial ... however, as these last few days have passed ... I have felt a more comforting sensation fall over me. In looking back, I realize that these last two years have truly been some of the most spiritually challenging of my life. I have seen God teach me new things ... new freedoms ... new dependence on who He is. Maybe they have just been a warm up of things to come. I mean, instead of saying goodbye to my 30's ... maybe the last two years have just been the runway to take off into the best decade of my life. I'm thinking that perhaps I've been dreading something that isn't even there. What if those two dang numbers - 4 and 0 - turn out, in the end, to be the best numbers of all? Will I be better than ever?

Alex, I'm going to go with yes, for $200.