“Friends are angels who lift our feet when our own wings have trouble remembering how to fly.”




"How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!"

I guess I'm going to have to make an appointment to have my hair cut.

A local radio station is having a contest. It is a Valentine's Heart 2 Heart Makeover contest. A devoted, loving man is supposed to nominate his sweetie for a makeover, wardrobe shopping with the experts, dinner, overnight at a posh hotel, etc. Would that not be a cool thing to win???

I mentioned it to hubby. I knew hinting would not get the job done. I told him the possible benefits of his actions: Free makeover for me, a FREE dinner and over night with me, he would get a free haircut, a very happy wife who he'd get to spend alone time with...

Figuring he probably didn't do it, I mentioned that I should just go ahead and make an appointment for this week to at least get a haircut. He laughed. "What do you think your chances are for winning this contest?" Well, he had a point. (Did I mention that you had to include a full length photo of you and your sweetie?) So are they looking for someone who "looks" like she desperately needs a makeover and wardrobe? Or someone who looks like a million bucks that they can make look frumpy in a before photo and then a knock-out in the after photos? Ok, so I would definately not make the latter category (except I can do a good frumpy.)

I reminded him that I did indeed win a contest of sorts. He honestly doesn't remember it at all. It was 20 years ago.

I was a young mom, pregnant with my 3rd child. Our marriage was at a tough point, I was still a new Christian desiring to be a perfect wife and mother (and feeling like a failure at both.) Finances were tight. I wore the same dress to church 3 times a week, and the same pair of shoes. In my desperation, I had the privilege of attending a Women's Advance at our church. (Same thing as a "retreat" but we like to think we are going forward, not running scared-hence the word "Advance.") It was a wonderful time of refreshing. For the cost, it meant more than a new dress or shoes that I could have bought. At the end of the Advance, they gave away prizes. All of them were lovely, but the grand prize was a free dinner and an overnight stay at the Marriott. Inside I so wanted to win something. It was a way to feel validated as a person. Receiving something special somehow spoke "you are valued and loved." I smiled, cheered, and rejoiced with each lady that won. As they were about to draw a name for the final prize, I caught myself hoping beyond hope. My heart was beating wildly. And then I caught myself.

I bowed my head and silently prayed, "Lord, please give this gift to someone who REALLY needs it. Amen." The leaders at the podium announced my name. I was in shock. If I hadn't been so pregnant, I would have jumped up and down. Still stunned I walked forward to collect my prize.

God, in His infinite mercy and grace, knew what this meant to me. It was His own special way of telling me that He did indeed love me and that I held value in His eyes. That was all that mattered.

I am not at a desperate place in life. My prayer once again is, "Lord, please give this prize to someone who REALLY needs it. Amen."

Secrets

Do you keep secrets? I'm not asking whether or not you gossip, whether you hear it or speak it. I'm talking about keeping things from loved ones to spare them from what you perceive as "too stressful." Protecting them.

Here is an example: In the 11th week of my 4th pregnancy, we found out the baby had died. I was about to miscarry. We were devastated. The very same day we received this devastating news, my father-in-law was having heart surgery. When my mother-in-law phoned to tell us about how things went, I put on a cheerful voice and carried on as if everything was fine. I was thankful she didn't ask how I was feeling. I don't think I could have lied. But I still felt dishonest. I felt the same way talking with my sister-in-laws.

In the back of my mind, I imagined being in my mother-in-law's shoes. Her husband had undergone major heart surgery. If this was me, and one of my daughters happened to experience the loss of a child in utero, would I want to know? My answer? Absolutely! I would be heartbroken if my daughter had been afraid to tell me. But Michael thought it best to not tell his family at that time. I figured he knew them better than I did. I mentioned it to my own mom, who let me know that she would want to know and felt it was wrong of me to keep it from them.

I had my answer a few weeks later. When we finally shared the news that there would not be another grandbaby in 6 months, my mother-in-law thanked me for NOT telling her when it happened. So Michael was right. He knew his parents much better than I did.

I mentioned this to my children the other day. I figured I should let them know that in any situation that I could imagine, I did NOT want them keeping secrets from me. I told them I did not feel like anything would be too stressful. I would be disappointed if they did not share something that I could be praying for them. I would not get stressed about a situation, but I could certainly intercede with the Father for them. And I'd be hurt if they did not share what they were going through with me. My oldest, Christina said, "you mean, like when I didn't tell you right away that Ethan had pneuomonia?" Ouch!

Yes, that was exactly what I meant. I told her that I would have appreciated her telling me. If she was afraid I'd run down there to be with them, she could say, "I don't want you here, but you can be praying." She said that the reason she didn't tell me right away is because she DID need help. She was afraid she would tell me she really needed me to come down and that I would feel obligated and do it no matter what.

I let her know that I was capable of making critical decisions. That there was the chance I might have had to tell her "no, I can't come down to help right now." (yeah right) but that I would have appreciated being able to make that decision. So hopefully, I have that straight with my own children.

But I hate keeping secrets.

"It doesn't matter how many languages you speak, you will return to your native tongue when praying or making love. It says a lot about true intimacy, it can't be faked."

Joanne

Big Loser

You know you are losing inches when your sports bra has wrinkles in it. I was looking forward to buying new clothes, but not this.

Where's the Delete Key???

Have you ever wished you had a delete key for real life? Think of the immense possibilities that could bring. The next time something offensive slipped out of your mouth, you could back up, hit delete, engage your brain, then say something more intelligent. It wouldn't have to be saved to memory, just vanish.

What about people? Am I the only one who wishes I could hit delete on another person? (I know, it does not sound nice, nor very Christian.) I'm not talking about a family member who irriates me, nor the rude driver who just cut me off and thought it was somehow my fault. I'm talking about someone in your life that is a stumbling block: Someone who manages to steal your time, energy, or other resources. If I'm totally honest, stealing is not a very accurate term. Someone can't steal my time unless I allow it, but they can be very deceptive in their motives.

It could be the waiter at your favorite restaurant. You go there to enjoy the company of another individual and feast on your favorite cuisine. You don't go there for intrusive comments from this individual. Nor do you take kindly to their overt advances. A delete key would work nicely in this situation.

I don't mind confrontations. What I do mind is when I am so shocked by a person's free speech at I don't know how to respond. Sometimes I think a slap in the face seems appropriate for a lady, but I of course would never respond as such. The scenario is often played back in my head many times. Hours later I think of a snappy comeback or a word of truth that would have done the trick almost as well as the delete key. Some of your other options are:

1) To never go back to the restaurant and avoid the chance of it happening again.
2) Find out when that person works and only go on his days off.
3) Decide how and whom to confront about this person and do it.
4) Is delete still an option?

Maybe I'm not as confrontational as I thought I was. I wish I had a delete key in life. Even if it didn't permanently delete, but just stashed things in your recycle bin. At least then you could pull it out only when you felt like you were ready to deal with it. The rest of the time, it stays safely tucked in the bin.

Song

I heard this song the other day and cried. It isn't brand new, but I had never heard it.

Artist Joe Nichols
"If Nobody Believed in You"

I watched him take the two strike call:
He hadn't tried to swing at all.
I guess he'd had all that he could take,
He walked away, for goodness sake.
His father's voice was loud an' mean:
"You won't amount to anything."

That little boy quit tryin',
He just walked away.
There were teardrops on his face.
Tell me, how would you feel?
You'd probably give up too,
If nobody believed in you.

That old man said: "One more try,
"I know I'm not too old to try.
"I promise, son, I'll do my best,
"This time, I'm gonna pass the test."
"Give me the keys, Dad, an' get in."
His father never drove again.

That old man quit tryin',
He just turned away.
An' there were teardrops on his face.
Tell me, how would you feel?
You'd probably give up too,
If nobody believed in you.

We take His name out of schools.
The lawyers say it breaks the rules.
Pledge of allegiance can't be writ,
An' under God, should not be said.
I wonder how He will take.
I just pray it's not too late.

What if God quit tryin',
He just turned away?
There were teardrops on his face?
Tell me, how would you feel?
You'd probably give up too,
If nobody believed in you.

Tell me, how would you feel?
You'd probably give up too,
If nobody believed in you.

Okay, here are some pics of my hair obsession. I know it will be overkill and far more than anyone wants to witness, but here they are: (And by-the-way, I did delete 8 other pics from this so you wouldn't think I was completely obsessed.)

I had the best time meeting with Heth! She is every bit as real and sweet as she is on her blog. And that baby was just adorable. I think we could have chatted all day long and never run out of things to talk about. I found it very amusing that our dh's seemed to have a lot in common too. I am so thankful we had the chance to meet in person. She is a rare gem.

I couldn't sleep last night. Either it was the Starbucks I had at 4:30 or I was too excited about today. I think it was the latter, or both. You see, I'm going to do something today that I've never done before. I'm going to meet one of my online friends in person. She happens to be in town with her hubby, who is on a business trip. I have no idea what we will talk about, but I have a feeling we will find plenty of topics for conversation. Of course there is a tricky part to this whole situation.

I've always warned my children that there is no way I would let them meet someone online and in real life. I've drilled into them the dangers of weirdos lurking on the internet, waiting to deceive them into believing they are someone they are not. I've questioned them on any "new friends." How do you really know she is a 14 year old girl from Japan? It is probably a 40 year old man posing as a girl. When they argue that they've seen pictures, my response has been, "how do you know that is who they really are? They could use a niece's picture or anyones for that matter. Then your friend will all of the sudden find themselves visiting the U.S. and want to meet you somewhere. In reality, it is all a setup to meet this pervert."

So how do I tell them I'm going to meet this lovely lady, with children, at the hotel she is staying at-or a bakery across the street from her hotel? I'm not setting a very good example am I.

I am excited none-the-less, to meet a fellow blogger whom I've loved getting to know via bloglife and now to meet face-to-face.

My Obsession

(I edited this post to add a pic of when I was in second grade to give you an idea of why I hated my hair.)

Okay, a confession to make. I have an obsession about my hair. For most of my life, I've always had short hair. Growing up, I yearned for long, silky hair like both of my sisters. But I was blessed with naturally curly hair (hated hearing that growing up) and because my mom didn't know what to do with it, she kept it pixie short.

I'll admit, we didn't have the hair products out there that we have now for taming wild locks, but surely something different could have been done. I think that was the beginning of my hair obsession.

When I was in 2nd grade, after a particularly bad haircut, I was walking on the playground. (Hmmm...that word sort of dates me, doesn't it? I have no idea if they are still called that.) A boy who was probably in 5th grade came up to me and asked, "are you a boy or girl?" I don't recall giving him an answer, just the feelings of being ugly and unfeminine.



Finally in 7th grade I convinced my mom to let my hair grow. When I finally got it past my shoulders, I went in to have it "shaped." Imagine my horror when the first cut the girl made was whacking it above my shoulders. I went home and cried, feeling ugly and wondering if I would ever feel attractive.

My senior year of high school, I went to cosmetology school. I learned to work with my hair and found I did like curly hair. I continued with short hair styles, but I did feel more feminine.

Three or 4 years ago, I had this crazy idea to let my hair grow long. (Maybe it was that whole getting close to 40 idea that it's now or never so if you're going to do it, better do it now.) It was ok. I think I have one absolutely awful picture of it. I finally cut off 4 inches and it seemed more manageable. Then a girlfriend talked me into trying it red. Michael had asked me for years to try it, but I just never thought it would look good on me. (I completely forgot that my Irish grandmother had beautiful auburn hair.) Michael loves red hair, and wants me to keep it that way. My mother hates it, says it is way too dark. (Well, it changes almost weekly, so if it is too dark, wait until next week or month.)

But seriously, I find my hair tends to dictate whether I am having a good day or bad. I know this sounds terribly shallow, but something I struggle with. Since high school, I wash and fix my hair every morning. Right away I know what kind of a day I will have. I do think it stems from the issues of feeling so unfeminine growing up. Now I'm debating about whether to post or put a link here of the hair pics I've taken more recently from the blonde/gray to burgundy red changes. It seems like such vanity, but it is an obsession of mine.

Out On The Boat

During our trip to Phoenix, Michael and I went out on my sister's boat. They live in a Lake Community. Seeing as how Phoenix is actually part of the desert, living on a lake seems the only option for surviving the Arizona heat in the summer. In the winter it is gorgeous! We had a lovely cruise around the lake looking at equisite and expensive homes. Here are some photos to give you an idea of what I am talking about. Unfortunately, I didn't have my camera, so had to take these with my phone, so the quality is poor.

Grandmother

I post on several message boards. On one of them, all the rage are these fancy "grandmother" signatures. I don't have a single really decent photo of Ethan from recently. (Mostly, because I can't get him to stay still long enough for them not to blur.) But I tried playing around with one from his first winter. I forgot how adorable he was as a baby.



After I got so hyped up about the Football game yesterday, I got to missing Ethan. Because we'd been out of town the weekend before, I hadn't seen him for nearly 14 days. And it would be another 5 at least before I'd see him. Plus, I talked to my daughter and he'd been at the Emergency Room on Thursday. He has pneumonia again. So instead of watching the game (good choice-guess who lost?) I drove 90 miles to see that sweet boy. He was so happy and just wanted to sit in my lap. Only got to stay a few hours before I had to get home, but I was so glad I had gone. I hated leaving. Ethan started crying and trying to pull me back to the couch to sit with him. I cried at least the first 20 miles home.

Oh, and here is a not too particularly good pic of Michael and I, but figured it was about time we started taking more pics together.

Go Broncos

Go Broncos!

If you are a Denver Bronco fan, there isn't much more explanation needed. Today is a big day. If they win against the Steelers we will be in the Super Bowl. When they get this far, though, everyone becomes a fan-even if they are not football fans.

I've always liked football, but coming from Arizona (back when they didn't have a team) I didn't understand what Bronco fever was. It didn't take long to become a Denver Bronco fan. I have home video of my 3 oldest children decked out in Bronco clothing. My son is singing, "La, la, la, love the Broncos, we are the 3 Amigos..." (Okay, probably nobody will get that one unless they were around for the SuperBowl something like 17 years ago.) My 5 year old at the time reads a story, complete with hand-drawn pictures, of the Broncos going to the SuperBowl.

I take advantage of every occasion to have fun, create a festive atmosphere. One tradition relates to the Broncos. Anytime they get this far in the Play-Off games, out comes the Blue and Orange nail color. I've been waiting all week for my nail decals to arrive that I bought off of ebay. So this afternoon, I got busy. (I still have 3 more sets of nails to paint before the game starts. I don't mind doing them at the last minute, I just hope the Broncos win so we can wear them until the SuperBowl. We are fickle fans. If they lose, there will be some quick removal of our blue and orange.

Sad

I want to cry. I have been cooking and creating recipes for a number of years. I've been storing these in an email file. This year I decided to create a cookbook, that way, when each of my kids moves out I can give them a copy of some of their favorite foods, meals, and dishes. I also have a collection of recipes handed down from my mom and mother-in-law.

So why do I want to cry? I finally have my computer back to normal function. The bad news...I lost everything in my email account. Yes, dumb, I know. I had some picture files there and music too. Those losses I will live with. (And hopefully , I can somehow get all my email addresses and internet favorites back little-by-little.) Little things like the daily blogs I liked to visit. (I did find the few who have commented on mine-thank-you!)

I am just not sure what I'm going to do this next week when I am planning meals. Or when Michael or one of the kids request a favorite meal that was recently created. I must be off to bed before I let it get to me.

End of the Spear

What an emotional movie this was! Thankfully, it ended on a very positive/laughable note. I need that at the end of a movie that has caused me to cry. (I don't cry very easily.)

It wasn't at all what I expected. Truthfully, I didn't go with any great expectations-except that I was a little miffed when I went. I had purchased 5 tickets at $8 each. We rarely go to the movies. Once a year, usually around the holidays, we try to go as a family (all 8 of us.) But it was still a big deal to purchase 5 tickets.

My youngest 2 have a lot of homework at night, so a week ago Thursday, the worked diligently to have it all finished by dinner. (Even Sarabeth, who works stage crew until 5, and didn't get home until 5:30 tried to work ahead so she could attend the movie.) El had to work that night, which I didn't know. My girls invited friends to go, but nobody else was allowed to go to a movie on a school night. Then Michael bailed on me. He was too tired to go out. Ugh! So the three of us jumped in the car and off we went.

The theater parking lot was strangely quiet. I didn't think we were very early. Once inside I pulled out our tickets. I couldn't believe it. We were there a week early. The movie wasn't until the following week. I started laughing and told the girls. I felt a little guilty for giving my husband such a hard time and was ever so thankful I hadn't convinced him to come.

The girls said they'd worked so hard to be able to go, they didn't want to go home. So we went to the mall, visited with El, and laughed a lot about getting the wrong date.

Last Thursday we were having our first big snow. The driving was treacherous, and I was tempted to just not go to the movie-in spite of the $40 I'd spent. Once again the girls were diligent, so we went. And once again, it was only the 3 of us. But this time, I wasn't angry.

The movie was excellent. It was more about the tribes people than the missionaries. It is rated PG13 for violence. The message was simple and poignant. The men were killed because the people they went to help didn't understand why they were there. But ultimately, it was their sacrifice that brought true freedom and change for these people. The movie did not preach. This was not a movie like one of Billy Graham's that the Gospel is preached and lives are changed. But the simple message of the gospel was. I laughed when my daughter asked, "why didn't dad go? They didn't even say God or Jesus once in the movie." She thought he would have enjoyed it as much as we did. Maybe when it comes out in video.

5 Weird Things About Me

I was tagged by Paula at Full Of Life This has been a difficult one for me to resond to. Do I really want to reveal weird things about myself? What will others think, that I'm weird? Oh well, here goes:

Five weird habits of yourself:

“The first player of this game starts with the topic ‘five weird habits of yourself,’ and people who get tagged need to write an entry about their five weird habits as well as state this rule clearly. In the end, you need to choose the next five people to be tagged and link to their web journals. Don’t forget to leave a comment in their blog or journal that says ‘You are tagged’ (assuming they take comments) and tell them to read yours.”


1. I have always wanted a housefull of children. I still think we need about a dozen to feel full.

2. I sometimes get hung up on meaningless things. Once I wondered if I put my deodorant on the same way every day. Was it always the left underarm first? So just for fun, every day that week I switched off. I'd leave the container facing the direction of which I left off on. (You see, I obviously have too much time...not enough kids yet.)

3. I shower, fix my hair, and wear makeup to work out. I can't imagine not doing this ever.

4. I don't sit in the same spot at church every week. When taking classes with open seating, I like to sit in a different seat every time. It drives others crazy. They walk in and look at you as if to say, "what are you doing in my seat? Get out!"
But I like variety.

5. I bought a "puppy love" stuffed dog from the post office one day. I thought it would make a nice gift for one of the kids sometime when he or she was having an off day. (Or a fun locker suprise.) But then I kept him for myself as my driving companion. He sits up front with me and goes everywhere with me. I've even been known to stuff him in my purse and take him shopping with me. (Must be a leftover memory/feeling from when I was growing up. I kept a water balloon with a face drawn on it for nearly a year-as sort of a pet/friend.)

LOL, one of these days I will post about my hair obsession, but I'm not going to include it here.

So now that you all know how weird I really am, I'm going to go out on a limb here and tag Jenni , Tina Moriah , Heidi , and Shel(. So ladies, when you have a day and can't think of anything to blog, please share your weird habits so I don't feel alone in the weird category.

End Of The Spear

Am going to see "End Of The Spear" tonight. Hope it is good. It is based on the true story "Jim Elliot," a missionary and "the rest of the story." I will update and let you all know what I think.

What I'm Currently Reading

At the moment I'm reading a book entitled, "Experiencing Spiritual Breakthroughs" by Bruce Wilkinson. I bought it some time ago, but am just getting around to reading it. I find a lot of spiritual books tend to be written more for women, as I think in general they are the ones most likely to read them. But I have found this one seems to relate more to men. So far, it seems to be one of those life-transforming books. I've decided to give you a taste, by copying a bit from the first chapter:

“Guys,” I said, as I squinted up into the sun, “what were we thinking?”
Above us loomed a hundred and fifty feet of sheer rock. Our objective was simple-get the three of us from down here to up there. A rope snaked down the cliff face to coil menacingly at our feet.

It didn’t help that several teammates had already succeeded at this training phase and were now throwing down encouragements from on high. Or that my partner Al was busy breaking our crisis into bite sizes.

“One hundred and fifty feet is about fifteen stories, I figure,” he said. “Maybe six seconds of free-fall time. Hit the ground right here with about as much forces as, oh, maybe…”

“Al,” I broke in, “why don’t you hand the rope to Jeff.” Fortunately for my quaking knees, Jeff had been tagged to go up next.

I helped him get clipped into the safety harness. The whole point of this trial-by-rock was to face down our fears. By learning to trust not only our equipment but also the other men on our team, we would break through to a higher level of personal confidence and team spirit.

“The man on the top is working with you every step of the way,” our climbing coach had said. “The gear is top-rated. You’ll do fine, especially if you don’t look down.”

When Jeff was securely in his harness, he yelled up, “I’m ready! Who’s holding my line? My life is in your hands!”

“Vince!” Came the reply from far above.

Suddenly Jeff froze, then stepped back and unclipped his harness. Clearly, he wasn’t going up. He started waving his hands and shaking his head to the team above. “I’m not taking one step up this rock with that guy holding my rope!” He shouted. “Get me somebody else!”

In the shocked silence that followed, a feeling even more sickening than the fear of heights hit my stomach. It was imagining the utter embarrassment of Vince, the man on top, rejected as an untrustworthy climbing partner. It was the shattering awareness that all the camaraderie we’d been building piece by piece for days was about to fall apart.

The three of us looked up. The crew above peered down. And none of us knew what to do next.

Until Al stepped up. I heard a click. Al was buckling himself into the dangling harness. In a moment he was leaning into the rope.

“Vince!” he yelled.
“Yeah?”
“You ready?”
“I’m ready!” came back the reply.
“Here I come!” yelled Al. And he started up the face of the wall.

When Al was only about, oh, maybe one second of free-fall time up that cliff; I had my second breakthrough moment. My knees were still jelly, but at least I was breathing again. “You’re going to be okay, said that little voice. You’re going to climb that cliff just fine…all the way to the top.

And by the end of the day, that’s exactly what I had done.

The Other Surprise

The night before Christopher went back to college, we were both sitting in front of the computer. (He was at his dad's, I was at mine-in the same room.) He said,

"Ma, I told you and dad you could borrow my car while you were in town. Why did dad rent one?"

Michael's email was open and Christopher noticed a Hertz email. Before I could answer, he let out a yelp.

"What the???? A Ford Mustang convertible???? Oh my gosh! I can't believe this!"

Now I was curious. I told him I had no idea what he was talking about, but my mind raced. Granted I have secretly always wanted to drive a convertible, but it is one of those things I have never said outloud to him. Plus, once you pass the 4-5 kid mark, those thoughts are covered over with "the bigger, the better" ideas.

The other thought that came to me was I could not remember a time that Michael tried to surprise me in any fashion even close to this. Anyone who knows him, number one would say he is NEVER frivolous with money, and secondly is so very practical (not to mention very, um, cheap? Ok, frugal.) This was so out-of-character for him. But lately I never know what to expect. It has been an exciting time in our lives.

Christopher made me promise not to say anything and to act surprised. But the rest of the night, whenever he catch my eyes, he'd go into this routine. He'd hold his hands out on an imaginary steering wheel, toss his head as if his hair was blowing in the wind while driving with the top down. We'd laugh and laugh. I think everyone thought we were nuts.

Thankfully, Michael mentioned it the day before we left. I wouldn't have to put on an act of surprise. But I felt like a little kid in a candy store. At unexpected times, I'd break out in a big grin or laugh. After being married 22 years, were we learning to have fun again?

Here is the one time Michael drove the car all weekend-when we left the airport.



The rest of the time I was the driver. The weather was gorgeous. I think I only left the top up once. I didn't care what I looked like once I got to my destination. I would just mention the car, and they'd understand. We'd left the kids at home and we were out acting like we didn't have a care in the world. We all need a weekend like this.