Feeling so gypped...

Inspite of complete team coverage of the weather, and local news consisting of nothing BUT the weather, we did not get a snow day. Of course, right now it's just a lot of cold puddles, but it looks like it could freeze over and dump a blizzard on us at any second....

Maybe tomorrow.

In other news...there's a leak in my bedroom ceiling. I'm so glad we are renting.

"But I believed -and still do- that the way to unlock yourself creatively and spritually and pretty much every other way, is to be truthful. It's the hardest thing to do, to be truthful with yourself." ~Bono

I've been reading U2 by U2, which is a stinkin' huge book and not at all easy to hold when you are lying in bed at night. I hope it is not completly cornball to say that I feel inspired by it. I actually see a lot of parallels between their starting as a band and us starting as a church. We are both trying to be and do something wholly other than what has been done, we have high ideals that we are deeply passionate about, and we have to justify those ideals to people who can either help or hurt us. Yeah, they're a rock band. They are also deeply committed Christians trying to find their way spiritually. Early on, Bono and Edge almost left the band so that they could be more involved in their church. They were getting pressure from other Christians to put aside the band and just fit into that Christian mold. I'm glad they didn't.

Wholehearted

It's an interesting thing that lately, as I have been ferreting out a lot of strange inner-life issues, something else has emerged simultaneously. I am more committed to our life here and specifically our work at Vintage than I have ever been. I truly believe that this is what God wants us to do. I think that this past year was a long process of seeing how much this venture would cost us...not just financially, but in friendships, in the support of our families, in personal comfort. And I have mourned those things...loudly and long. Had we known up front that we would experience such loss, I doubt we would have had the courage to try. Now, with a clear picture of all that starting Vintage has cost us, I can honestly say, it's okay. As each week goes by, I see more clearly the great need of the people here (and everywhere) for a church like Vintage. And maybe more importantly, how much I need Vintage. I could never go back to the girl I was a year ago....and I wouldn't want to. I've often said that God proved how amazing He is by saving me out of Bible college. Now, I am amazed again as He has grown me by taking me out of "church" as I knew it.

Newspaper Capers

Some people came to the door over a month ago selling newspaper subscriptions. For 30 dollars, you can get the weekend paper for a year: That's Thursday through Sunday. Great....the Thursday and Friday papers would have garage sale listings and the Sunday paper would have the coupons. We'd be saving money by getting it, instead of buying the Sunday paper off the newstand every week.

Three weeks went by with no paper.

So I called and they needed to clarify that we were NOT the former residents of this house, who apparently never actually paid for anything based on the number of phone calls and even police visits looking for them.

So they promised that the paper would indeed arrive the next day, which it did. We also got the paper on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. But the Sunday paper had no coupons.

We continued to get the paper the entire next week, including three papers on Thursday (one of them in Spanish) and two on Sunday...with no coupons in either one.

Got the paper yesterday as well as bill for the paper, which I had already paid. So I called again and was told that the payment had not hit the account. The check has cleared, though. I inquired about the coupons and was told that if no coupons appear in this Sunday's paper, I should call again. She assurred me that I'm not being charged for any extra papers, so why did I not want them?....Well, only that I'm swimming in papers all over the house! I HATE scooping up papers that nobody has even read. I just wanted the coupons! And yesterday I had to grocery shop without them...and pay FULL PRICE for stuff. UGH. I just wanted the coupons.

Answers have a funny way of leading to...

...more questions.

I hit my husband with this one at 8:00 a.m. yesterday morning:

Why do we even matter? I mean, really, what significance do we even have?

The poor guy. He was ready to chill out and maybe dink around online, and I had to go and hammer him with the meaning of life. I'll try to go back in time for you to help you understand what brought me here.

You see, I was wondering about what makes me significant
because I felt insignificant
because we have hit the wall financially and can no longer use a credit card to patch up the holes in our budget
because I'm not a home-owner or community member like I was in Michigan
and I'm not a new mother, which made me feel significant in Boston
and I'm not the youngest and cutest pastor's wife like I was in New York
and I'm not engaged
or getting saved
or working for Dr. Carter and Dr. Firmin, THE professors to work for
like I did in college
and I'm not the good girl who always pleased her parents
and knew the right answers in church
and got good grades
and had an unimaginable amount of hair to arrange
like I was back then
and I'm not Daddy's little girl
or Pookie's little sister
or Mommy's little helper
or Grandma and Grandpa's important guest


So what difference do I possibly make in the world? We have a Christian phrase we use that goes like this: "You have to find your significance in Christ." I would like to apologize to anyone I have ever said that to, because I don't have a clue what it means. So all of the "external things" like the un-nameable tension in my marriage and the financial woes, the feeling of being displaced and homesick, the mourning for the loss of loved ones, the slightly standoffish feeling I fight when at Vintage, the questioning our place here....these are all symptoms of this one question: What significance do I have?

I don't believe this!

What Vinny does at 5:30 a.m.

A Narnian Adventure

It would be hard to describe the place we took the kids yesterday for some family time. It is called Terra Studios and it is a concentrated local deposit of a movement known here as "Funky Fayetteville." It is what you would expect a 1960s hippie would dream up if he fell asleep smoking weed and reading Tolkien. Amusing, with unending texture, it was too fun to take the kids and let them assume it is entirely normal for blue troll families made of pottery to stroll around the woods. Here are a few snapshots of this totally free and fun afternoon.

Now THAT was a holiday!

The Marshall's hosted our Thanksgiving feast yesterday and may I just say, that was the slickest, calmest, most relaxing holiday I have had in a long time? The kids were well behaved at the table, I ate until I thought I might explode, and the effects of the turkey and wine completely overwhelmed me; honestly, I didn't know it was possible to sleep that well on somebody else's couch! I didn't lift a finger to clean up...it was all whisked away before I could make a move. The food was FAN-FREAKIN-TASTIC....kudos to A for all his culinary accomplishments and Jaye T's decorations were simply lovely. Mattie even got her fill of mashed potatoes! It was a great day with not an ounce of drama...exactly what the doctor ordered.

It is 20 hours later and I think I might be able to manage a piece of pie.

Be Still My Soul

Be still, my soul: the Lord is on thy side.
Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain.
Leave to thy God to order and provide;
In every change, He faithful will remain.
Be still, my soul: thy best, thy heavenly Friend
Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.

Be still, my soul: thy God doth undertake
To guide the future, as He has the past.
Thy hope, thy confidence let nothing shake;
All now mysterious shall be bright at last.
Be still, my soul: the waves and winds still know
His voice Who ruled them while He dwelt below.

Be still, my soul: when dearest friends depart,
And all is darkened in the vale of tears,
Then shalt thou better know His love, His heart,
Who comes to soothe thy sorrow and thy fears.
Be still, my soul: thy Jesus can repay
From His own fullness all He takes away.

Be still, my soul: the hour is hastening on
When we shall be forever with the Lord.
When disappointment, grief and fear are gone,
Sorrow forgot, love’s purest joys restored.
Be still, my soul: when change and tears are past
All safe and blessèd we shall meet at last.

Be still, my soul: begin the song of praise
On earth, believing, to Thy Lord on high;
Acknowledge Him in all thy words and ways,
So shall He view thee with a well pleased eye.
Be still, my soul: the Sun of life divine
Through passing clouds shall but more brightly shine.

Change takes time...

You can probably guess from some of my previous posts that I am in another "thinking cycle." I guess that is how I deal with the world...I think about it for a while, I talk about it, I attempt to make changes to better deal with things. Then I get PMS and start all over again.

We have entered a different time in our life. It is a time of settling in. This past year was all question marks and temporary fixes, but now it is time to rebuild. I need to make some changes in my work habits and my perspective now and I'm anxious about it. I know you aren't supposed to be anxious, you are supposed to pray and I guess that has me going back The Papa Prayer and once again trying to present myself to God as I really am, not how I think I should be.

Our finances are a bit of a disaster. I guess I was ashamed to say so openly before. But we haven't been living high on the hog around here...it's just the circumstances have all come together in a way that God is using to force us to be real about it. We've wrestled with good financial skills for ten years and I doubt we would be taking it seriously now if it weren't for the very real need to take it seriously.

I've been wrestling with our call to Vintage. There has been a persistently shrill voice of doubt saying "If God really needs a new church so much, it should be a lot easier than this." Course it sounds silly when you say it out loud, but in your head, with all the distortion, it sounds very reasonable. Knowing the pain of my friends in MI and being basically worthless to do anything about it has been hard too. I feel so much guilt for leaving. And chronically having to say "We Can't" to the kids hasn't helped either. Throw in a little tension in my marriage that has never been there before, and you've got yourself a recipe for taking serious pause.

Wow this is really honest. But this is the record. This is the book of my days. This is part of the story. So I'm telling it.

Yesterday was a good day at Vintage. I decided to settle in and try to be present in that moment, like I haven't for a while. I often hover above the service, removed so that I can observe it and be able to tell Robb if it was okay or not. I didn't do that yesterday. I guess part of it was having a couple of friends there who I am beginning to trust and open myself up to. That's a big thing. It was a service of praise and thanksgiving...and we asked people to tell their stories. That was important...I can't see what is happening in people's hearts and just because they keep coming back, I can't know what God is doing in them unless they tell us.

It isn't just that a few people said they like Vintage that helps me see that we are on the right road. It is like a song, with the notes playing harmoniously together....that when I yeild myself to God's plan, there is a sweetness, an integrity, a wholeness that I cannot experience when the clamor of doubt is allowed to play at full volume. I feel it in my relationship with my kids, my husband, my friends. I feel it vertically between God and I. There are more changes to make, but He is here.

I'll never be perfect here on earth. I will always screw up. I will always be insecure and lose focus and feel a little lost. I still feel trepidation as I stand at the bottom of the hills that have to be climbed, but I'm willing to go.

DO IT DO IT DO IT!!!!

Without really putting too much thought into why I do it, I confess that I have a bad habit of dinking around doing really silly things instead of cleaning on days that people will be coming to my house. I'm so tempted right now to just spend the whole morning reading all of Darla's friends' blogs....they look so interesting...

I gotta get moving. But I feel so creative, I just know I could write or list something amazing....

oh well...

time to scrub the toilets.

Today's Moment of Unbearable Sweetness

My son wakes up at an ungodly hour every morning. I don't think it is sacriligious to say it is ungodly hour. Because I act ungodly at that hour every day. At five thirty am, my little guy was playing board games with his sister, coloring pictures, and making gigantic messes today. So I arrive on the scene, bleary eyed, trying to find the coffee pot, and instantly start telling my son to clean up his messes in a tone that is less than sweet. I confess...I'm an absolute crank in the morning.

So I am clearing the table of the papers and crayons so I can serve breakfast and I find this:

In Vin's own words, it says, "When I was two, I had the memories. I can remember my mom singing me a sweet song. I had a crib. I had a blanket."

Color me a puddle on the floor. Breakfast was late because I had to hug my little man.

Deconstructing The Thing

Robb and I went out last Friday and had a good time connecting...sometimes it's just so hard to settle in and really talk about things that are hard. We were sitting in a Chinese restaurant and I was crying and thinking how absurd it was that I was sitting in a Chinese restaurant and crying.

We were talking about my discontent...my chronic ambition...my whatever it is that makes me feel that we aren't giving our kids what I want to give them. I think that Robb was a little surprised by the fact that I feel this way and he tried to draw me out on what it is that I feel we are missing. I came up with this...

Roots.


"You mean, like we stay in one place for the rest of our lives?" He asked.

I don't know exactly.

Except that anytime the mention of Ithaca or our house there comes up, I cry. Like the loss of a dearest loved one. Like a breakup from someone you just loved so much, but it couldn't work out. I told Robb that it was the first place we'd lived that I was happy. We said that it was going to be our "forever home" and that we were going to stay there forever. I had worked through the urge to leave after two years; I had put my absolute heart and soul into fixing up the house. I planted perenials, planning every year for new flowers and trees and such. I dreamed great dreams. I loved that home with complete abandon. I never planned to leave it. And more than just the house, I felt I belonged in the community. I alternated between being amusedly annoyed by the provincial mindset of the people, and being relieved by the simplicity of it all. I genuinely loved the town like you love a family with all it's quirks. And then we moved...again.

But there was more to it than all that...All this week I have asked myself what it was about living there that I have not been able to get over. I mean, sure it's always hard to move, but I haven't been able to move ON and that is a problem. I'm pretty sure other people don't mourn the loss of their town. What I feel can't be quite right.

My thoughts have been turbulent this week. I am in a room interacting with family and friends, but underneath, I am thinking....thinking...thinking....trying to work out this puzzle in my head....

I've cleaned out closets, organized the basket of school papers, sorted through Charleigh's clothes, cleaned my closet, organized the garage...but I still feel this profound disorder in my soul. I rearranged the knick-knacks in the living room, not because I had time, but because I was compelled to make it better....

I am working at deconstructing the thing. I'm getting close, and as usual, the root of the matter is some place I have been ignoring for a long time. I can see the shape of it coming into focus and honestly, I'd like to turn around and run in the opposite direction for as long and as hard as I possible can.

I'm sorry to be so cryptic, but I'm exhausted and these thoughts need more energy than I have to hatch properly.

The wind is howling and it is pouring a miserably chilly rain...not so cold as to actually decisively freeze, just cold enough to be unfocussed and grouchy. It so perfectly matches my mood, I'm actually grateful for it.

Have you ever needed a miracle?

...and did you get it?

To Everything there is a Season...

To everything there is a season
A time for every purpose under heaven....

The seasons are changing here. One day it was crisp and bright as October and 20 minutes later, it was as dull and muted as the grayest November day in overcast mid-Michigan.

I've been thinking lately about how much we fight that simple little truth of the seasons. And how foolish it is. How much pain and discomfort, even illness it brings us.

I got older this week. Yup, the big 32. I can't really think of another birthday that mattered less. Maybe 8. I tried to remember back and couldn't remember a single thing about turning 8. I could remember 5, and 9, 10, 11, 12, 13..oh that was a bad one...14, 15, 16...I cried on my 20th, had Mattie by my 25th...a lot of birthdays in the 20s were the same night as church business meetings...was 30 good? Can't remember...I didn't have a blog then... 32...Robb was worried that it was the worst birthday ever because I was sick, but honestly, last year was much worse. This year was kind of ....great, actually. When else do you get to spend an entire day in bed having your beloved fuss over you?

Somewhere along the line, we started fighting being fussed over. Maybe it was the end of high-school...when we were itching to be "grown up." Our appreciation for being taken care of went to an all time low. And several seasons in life later...when all I do is take care of other people, I wonder why I was in such a hurry.

In fact, though, it seems that nobody is happy with the age they are...my kids want to be teenagers...teens want to be adults...adults want to go back to being teens and middle aged people want to go back to when their kids were small. We're all so bent on looking forward or looking back, we're seldom just present.

I wonder what would happen to the American economic scene if we all just sat back and relaxed and accepted the season in life that we are in. No more Botox. No Avon or Oil of Oilay or who-ever it is that fights "the seven signs of aging." No more hair coloring. No mid-life crisis convertables. No more buying the toys we had when WE were kids to recapture the "magic of childhood." Maybe we could take all that cash and turn it into ways to comfort and coddle our old people more.

I wonder what would happen if we ate food that was in season. If we didn't cart stuff in from all over the world trying to satisfy our yen for blueberries in winter. It seems like we'd appreciate things more. And I can't help but think that fewer preservatives in our food woud ultimatly preserve us more.

I was struggling with productivity recently. I couldn't figure out why last year, when I was stuck on a dial-up connection, manual picture loading of 8 pictures at a time, and single-shipping label printing...I made it to power seller status. But now...several months later, with dsl, unlimited picture loading, and a multiple label printing tool, I can't seem to make myself do squat. I realized that I was on a schedule...an orderly routine I had to follow to overcome the slowness of my equipment. I don't know if you've noticed it about yourself, but it seems like the more technology we have, the more distracted I get...I can waste any entire morning trying to do what would have taken no time at all if I just stayed focussed. I've lost my belief in multi-tasking.

We went to see the movie "Stranger Than Fiction" last night. Without spoiling it for you, I will say that it is a movie about surrender. Surrendering yourself to the inevitibility of death--instead of fighting it kicking and screaming and being unhappy with the imperfections--but rather focusing instead on the beauty and wonder of what we can enjoy and be grateful for. I loved the movie and though Will Farrell gave the performance of his life. I'd hate to see him go back to making any dim elf movies after doing something so restrained.

I'm in a strange season now. It's been a year since we moved here. We feel the change in the air...it is time to be happy again....the hurricane that was last year is over. Now it is the aftermath of our decisions. It's time to clear out, to rebuild, or in many ways, to build fresh. There's a lot to do and I am not 21 anymore. I don't mind saying that I am more than a little daunted at what lies ahead.

I realized that we have just two years before Mattie turns 9. You know, the year when you begin to realize that your parents might be wrong. There is much to build into her life before then. Calvin just lost his first tooth...it seems like only yesterday (or maybe last night in his case) that I was waiting for that little tooth to cut through his baby gums. Now it's out. (I wish it had been the one in the front with the big cavity in it.)

I know I'm not saying anything profound. But it seems like accepting the seasons God has given me instead of fighting them, is a common theme that is running through my experiences lately.

*******

A couple updates: Donna is home from the hospital recouperating and will be at least a month healing.

We all had the flu this past three weeks (like a lot of people, it seems) but I think we might be all better. I had Chinese food last night and it tasted great!

Thanks for all the well-wishes and prayers!

Gonna Party Like It's My Birthday

It is actually my birthday, but since I got the flu, my big plans involve maybe taking a shower if I can stand up that long and a romantic dinner of ginger ale and toast. Hubby got me the best thing: 22 hours of uninterrupted sleep and a stack of new magazines.

see you tomorrow...maybe

In a Funk

I haven't been able to find a dictionary definition of "being in a funk" but I think you know what I mean. This is day-two of not being able to cut through the daily crap. Two days ago, I was very productive and had all my ducks in a row..I even had supper in the crock pot by 10:00 a.m. Yesterday, I stalled out due to that stupid tidbit tray. Today, I'm giving myself credit for remembering to eat. Part of it is having a couple of things that I WANT to do, but can't because I don't have the right resources (money, a car, time, etc). And part of it is having things I should do but really DON'T WANT to do. I've discovered that I have the tendency to think rather linearly...that is...when presented with a roadblock, I have trouble finding an alternate way of moving forward. For example, I'm so annoyed with my workspace that I can't seem to work. I sit here. I make lists. I dink at researching items I have to sell. But I'm so annoyed by it all, that I just spin my wheels.

I'm in a funk. I'm preoccupied with Donna being sick, with the recent loss of Sandy, with this annoying set of bookshelves that I abhor. And I still haven't found that darn screw. I should go to the store, but I need to pick up the kids soon, and I should walk because I'm getting fat.

Hopefully the funk will leave soon. I hate the funk. I will attack the funk by striking a blow at the number-one funk-booster in my life: the too-full-and-stinky-garbage can.

Pray for Donna

Hubby is sick today and Charleigh is still claiming she will "SPIT" after eating anything, but my friend Donna, known in these parts as "klaisiprof" has been in the hospital for a week. At last check, she isn't doing much better than when she was admitted.

Besides giving us our daughter (she's a foster-family recruiter), Donna is just one of the dearest friends I have ever had. She is always there for me, always ready to listen to even the most outrageous thing I might be thinking, and always affirming that I am trying my best. You don't get many people in life who accept you exactly as you are and can still help you laugh at yourself.

She is hands down one of the hardest working people I have ever known...from finding the best school option for her kids and meeting their special needs, to inviting people who are lonely and hurting to share whatever they have, to pulling off "While You Were Outs" whenever she gets the chance.

She's already been through hell and high water in her lifetime and is tough as nails. Life hasn't lightened up on her much lately, either. Most of us would have curled up in the fetal position after what she's had in life, but she is still looking outward, still looking for ways to comfort the heartbroken, still looking for homes for hurting kids, still fighting her way through a lot of miserable days. She once dreamed of being a pastor's wife, but cruelty shattered those dreams. I try to help her realize she is doing more the Kingdom now than she ever would have accomplished singing in the choir and running a ladies missionary society.

So pray for Donna today and for her hubby and kids. I love them and I hate being so far away right now.

Argh....

I have spend the last three hours trying to find the right screw to fit a tiered tidbit tray together. Seriously.

Before that, Charleigh threw up grape juice on my white bedspread.

After that, I spilled my coffee on my keyboard.

all-righty then...it's gonna be one of THOSE days.

Cutie Patooties

fairy princess who dropped the fairy-part when she and her brother fought about her wings hitting him in the head while they rode in the car.

I didn't tell him to pose like this. But I did make his hat, which he pretty much thought was the most amazing thing he'd ever seen. Shout out to Nana, who made this costume!.
The Dragon-whose costume I glued pink bows to so that people would know it was a girl. She's wearing her costume as I post this at 8:07 am. She also got a hold of a tootsie roll somehow before breakfast. She's loving this holiday.
Just look at those faces!