Compound Fracture

So I have this dream/fantasy where my parents, sister, daboyz and wetwo all buy a chunk o'land and live in our own homes...a compound as my son, Jay likes to call it. Jay has embraced the vision and he and I spend many happy hours planning our compound. The Mr. has no vision whatsover and is unable to even join the conversation as he's too busy telling me why it won't work.
In my plan we purchase a few acres and put pre-fabricated homes on it. In Jay's there are tunnels and gun turrets. I imagine a nice compromise would be best. Jay and I purchase lottery tickets every pay day to finance our venture. We have high hopes that the Lord will bless our dilligence!
Meanwhile, here is a picture of the Kennedy Compound at Hyannis Port. It's quite similiar to what we're planning.
What's your dream home?

Can You Go Home Again?

Hello, my name is Sara and I am five years old. I am fabulousness in the making; or something like that.
Actually I am forty years old and I am almost there. I am almost brave enough to mail some letters. Today I wrote three letters to people I've never met and I am going to take a deep breath and mail them right to their homes. I think I am. If I can get very brave for just a few minutes longer. I know exactly where these strangers live. I know where they eat and sleep and hang their clothes. I'm not a stalker. You see, they live in my houses.
I want to see my houses again. If the strangers who live there now will let me, I want to take pictures too. I want to touch the walls and see if like I suspect, the rooms have gotten smaller. I'm drawn to this journey and there's nothing left to do but get started. I am writing letters to ask if I can come home again for a minute or an hour. I think I'll enclose a copy of a picture to prove that a long time ago a little girl with parted-down-the-middle hair dreamed dreams and read books and wore silly Easter hats there. I wonder if we left happiness in the ceilings and the walls? I hope so.
I am going to mail letters to three homes...Clippert Street, The Farm and The Pine House (where my grandparents lived when I was small.) I wonder if anyone will respond? I think I would.
I have to go now and try to be very brave at the mailbox. I'll let you know what happens.

Sameness

You guys all know by now that my heart is deeply rooted in the days of The Farm, my grandparents and family and the traditions and days we have spent together. It's easy now to wonder if all the sweetest things are left behind with the troubles of the world closing in and the 24 hour access to the worst things at our finger tips. Surely this world is an uglier place than it was in my childhood. After all, the Word tells us it will be increasingly ugly until the return of Jesus.
I long in deep places for that old farm and even for the hot side walks under bare feet when I was a little kid and summer vacation was endless. I hope my kids had the same naive hearts I had when they were little enough not to notice the things happening outside of their backyard fence. I have to be careful not to let the enemy convince me that all is so corrupt that their childhoods were somehow tainted. It's a fear that creeps up on me in quiet moments.
Something we don't hear that often about any more is the Holy Spirit. In those innocent days of The Farm and jumping through sprinklers, the Holy Spirit was ever present. Whispering dreams and joy into the ears of those who would be still enough to listen. This summer the Holy Spirit has swept through my home like a freshening breeze in ways that I've never heard preached. He has spoken in crickets and birdsong and believe it or not, in grass and cracked sidewalks.
As I lay in my bed recently I've felt a reminding in my body of the goodness of crisp sheets and warm wind through the windows. I've had a cricket in my basement that I cannot find and I don't know how in the world he has survived for so long down there. Being the chronic insomniac who awakens way too early I've been treated to birds just outside my upstairs bedroom and I've noticed something. The birds sing the same songs as they did on The Farm. The crickets chirp in exactly the same voice. The sheets feels the same against my bare legs at night and the warm grass under my feet has not changed. If I choose to live in spiritual places, the world cannot out-yell the sweetness of the earth. The good and right things remain the same, there as a constant reminder of what was meant to be, what remains and what will always be.
I don't want new sod in my yard. The old fashioned rough grass interspersed with crab grass and prone to dandelions cradles my bare feet just like it did when Grampa made green beans and children didn't know how to read terror alerts on the CNN crawl.
Summers lasted forever then. They still can if you listen for the Holy Spirit. He speaks the language of crickets and birds and cracked sidewalks warmed by the sun.
Listen...

2 Peter 1:13 I think it is right to refresh your memory as long as I live in the tent of this body...

Thoughts of Home

I'd like to invite you to take a peek here.
This is a blog that I stop by almost daily. Debra has lots of the same thoughts and ideas that I have but she goes beyond the thinking and actually takes action. I live vicariously through her mid-century small town ideals and healthy living vision. Someday I hope I'll actually go beyond the thinking.
A while back Debra reccomended a book called Thoughts of Home. I went to Amazon.com to purchase a used copy for $5 a few weeks back and it has been the sweetest read for my nightly bedtime unwind. The book is actually a collection of essays from House Beautiful magazine about, well, thoughts of home. Few books have been so soothing to me at the end of long and tired days and inspired me to truly reach for the sweetness of life that costs nothing and lasts forever.
I'd like to propose a blogger's book club and perhaps we can start off with this wonderful little book together. I'm pretty sure you'll need to get it on Amazon too because it's far off the beaten path with a 1995 copyright. It is edited by Elaine Greene. There are several copies available and I'm very happy with my cheapo used edition. I had considered reading it and passing it on but I like it so much it's now become a permanent member of my library. Go get your own.
So if you're interested, let us all know. Maybe we'll start a regular old-fashioned-home-loving-Jesus-serving book club in cyber space. Who needs Oprah?

Amazon listing

Support

So I go to Kohl's as they are promising big savings today. I figure, there is one bra in the world that I can wear, pictured here. Might as well grab one or ten at rock bottom prices. You see my friends, only the Bali Flower can stand up to the sisters. Or make the sisters stand up.
The Flower is not pretty despite its delicate name. It is made of space-age polymers and galvanized plumbing taken from fire-bombed homes on the Southside of Chicago. It does not cross over, lift or separate. It does not allow the skin to breathe and isn't entirely amused with the lungs attempt to. It is available in any color you want as long as that color is white, beige or black. This is a break-through for the Flower as until recently it was only available in white or white.
So off to Kohl's I went and...horrors! No longer do they have my Flower! They have something new in it's place with the promising name of Visualift. And this cocky little number is available in white, beige, black OR lavendary beige. I have my doubts but I go for it. Just one for a trial run. I'm a little worried because although I own the Flower in all three colors, after several hundred washings they have all become the same color; drab. I need a new bra.
Well, you can guess what happened. The Visualift was a Visuaflop. Literally. Lavendary beige color notwithstanding. The sisters laughed hysterically as they headed south, west and east all at the same time.
Back to Kohl's goes this weaker stepsister. I went online and to my relief found that the Flower is still available for purchase via internet. I ordered one and will order a few more if all goes well. I pray to God that all goes well.
In the meantime I am currently enjoying a new discovery, the Bali Downtime. Yes friends, a bra with the word "down" in its name. Its name is accurate. I guess it's for leisure wear or something. It's cottony soft with absolutely no wires and only slightly more support than two tube socks and a long shoe string. It feels lovely. Oh, it's not for public wear. But having daboyz around with any number of dagirlz at their sides I must remain somewhat supported in the afterhours and the Flower must be removed as soon as possible to prevent permanent injury.
A final note of advice for those thinking they too would enjoy the Downtime bra. You will not regret its purchase and I myself will buy a few more when I return the disappointing Visualift to Kohls. However IF you would not go braless in public, you must not use the Downtime as your new favorite all day long bra. Likewise, you must not wear an athletic bra to work. If your bra is comfortable, it is not doing its job.
I'm exhausted.

Down With Cantaloupes!

Praying for Arlene and her CT Scan on Tuesday. Come join us, especially Monday evening.
Click here Down with cantaloupes!

Isaiah 53:5 But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.

Prayer Gathering @ Barry & Arlene's Home
Monday, August 27 @ 6 p.m.

August 26, 2007

Isaiah 9:7
Of the increase of his government and peace there will be no end. He will reign on David's throne and over his kingdom, establishing and upholding it with justice and righteousness from that time on and forever. The zeal of the LORD Almighty will accomplish this.

Time

1. I go to bed; before 8:00 p.m.
2. I get up in the morning; between 4:30 and 5:00 a.m.
3. I start work; 6:30 a.m.
4. I'm off work; 3:00 p.m.
5. Since my last physical; about 5 years.
6. To get ready in the morning; 45 minutes.
7. I spend reading every day; an hour or so.
8. I spend talking on the phone daily; less than 30 minutes excluding work.
9. I spend on the computer per day; about 20 minutes.
10.I spend praying; not enough.

Repent

I was listening to Fox News Radio when Sean Hannity said this, "Repentance happens on the inside. It's when your heart changes. It means more than an apology."
I thought that was so profound. An apology is something that happens on the outside of us. Repentance happens on the inside. Give me the second one any day.
We can tend to think repenting means a sincere, "I'm so sorry." to God or to each other but it's more than that. Only the changed heart means anything. And if you ask me, the changed heart can stand on its own; no apologies necessary. The apology is implicit.
It has me thinking about what repenting really means and how it really looks. Sometimes we have repentant lips only.
I am praying for a more repentant heart.

Psalm 51:10 Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me.

Slow Blog Week

Not doing a lot of inspiration blogging this week. Worked some over time and my boss(es) are out of town all week so I'm tired and trying to cover all the bases. Since that is utterly too boring for me to think about after work much less write about, I'm taking a back seat I guess.
All is well over here. Mac starts college Thursday and Jay heads back in September. All I'm doing is working, reading and laying around. I am stopping in at all of your blogs and enjoying the view from your windows.

Lesson of the Week From God To Me: No amount of determination will make you successful if you give yourself any other options.

xos

No More

Isaiah 53:5 But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.


Today I'm feeling the need to pray against cancer, CANCER. Cancer in the body of Arlene and in the body of strangers. Cancer that lies silently, not yet found. Cancer that will tonight take the love of someones life from them. Cancer that took Margie's mom and pushes her to walk against its legacy. Cancer that stole my brother-in-law's little boy before we ever got to meet him. Cancer that we wait, white-knuckled, fearing in doctor's offices.
Cancer, you are evidence of a fallen world occupied by fallen bodies. But we are no longer fallen and we now claim a new blood line. We declare ourselves free of your attack. We claim today Jesus blood over the disease of cancer, wherever it is hiding or raging. Father, in the name of your son, heal those who need you. Amen.

Overheard II

"How long can a person survive in this bull-jive?"

This Just In

Actually it's kind of a nice change from the fire-setting. Refreshing!

Overheard

Frick: "Who are all of these people?"
Frack: "I don't know but I hate every single one of them."
Frick: "Me too."

August 19, 2007

1 Corinthians 1: 27 But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong.

Silly

1. Dog teeth.
2. Green Acres.
3. The Mr.'s Scooby Doo boxers.
4. Overeating.
5. Brian Regan.
6. Giraffes.
7. Micromanagment.
8. Putty.
9. Temper tantrums.
10.Daboyz.

Mission Home

I've decided to finally undertake a big project. The gradual redecorating of my home in a way that really suits me. Yes, ME. Not that I've been a paragon of sacrifice over the years so much as I'm ready to really insist on what I want instead of taking the cheaper or easier route. I'm ready to work some extra hours and wait a little longer to get it just right. I'm even willing to pull the much-hated overtime to hire the work out if necessary.
The Mr. doesn't exactly love the style that I love most. He's trendier. He has definite opinions that I tend to negotiate with to try to make him happy too. But you know what? I am emotionally tied to my home. I need it to soothe me in ways he does not. It can lift my spirit or wear me down. My home really is my everything other than the people I love. I actually long for it when I'm at work or away. I love home.
The home I want is decorated in the Arts & Crafts style. If you aren't sure what that is; check out the pic above. Or Wikepedia. Or think of mission style, Stickley & Frank Lloyd Wright. And be assured, it is NOT about making arts & crafts. Heaven forbid.
Something about this style just speaks home to me. It won't earn me lots of compliments I'm sure. It's not much except plain old homey. Warm, worn and sentimental. As I move along I'll post pictures and you'll wonder just how this place means so much to me. Rest assured it does.
I live in a 60+ year old bungalow in a less than charming neighborhood but it will accommodate my plans nicely. The interior will get its due over the winter and I'm hoping to do some landscaping in the spring. I've waited long enough to create a nest for my heart.
The kitchen is first on the list. We've installed new oak cabinets in a honey warm stain. Black counter tops flecked with brown and gold. We've replaced our appliance with stainless. The dining set is mission style and matches the cabinets. My mom made me these awesome curtains out of a vintage-looking fabric with lemons on them. I always say they are my "I Love Lucy" Connecticut house curtains. This makes sense to me, don't ask me why. Anyway, they look like they might've graced the windows of a bungalow or farmhouse in the forties or fifties and around them my kitchen is taking shape. We're having some friends put in ceramic tile around the sink and stove walls to add some depth and texture and then we'll paint the walls a warm golden beige. It's not at all matchy matchy...that's precisely the point. An old painting of lemons found in my Gramma's basement will hang on the wall as will a painting she did of The Farm. It won't look exactly (at all)like the pic here but there's the general feel of it.
When it's done, maybe I'll share the results with you. I used to hope for a bigger house but I'm settled in to my little bungalow now. Finally I know what I need to make it not bigger, but truly mine.

Definitions

Do you guys have words that only your family uses or is it just us? These words make utter and perfect sense to us. In fact, they are more accurate than previously invented words and that's why we use them. See if you can guess the meanings of a few favorites.

1. Dilusive=confused; sometimes associated with a fever.
2. Oogidy=grossed out.
3. Backity back=third seat in a mini van or suv.
4. Bonga=vacuum
5. Flabbage=low hanging skin left over after weight loss.
6. Vin-door=window in a Hungarian accent.
7. Turnada=wow mrs mac! turnada light indeed!
8. Susie=generic name for any dog.
9. Ingies=earrings.
10.Marlo Brandon=marlon brando

Who Are You Praying For?

Isaiah 53:5 But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.

Inheritance

When the Mr. and Mac were in Alabama visiting my in-laws; they had BLTs for dinner one night. The folks like their bacon fried CRISP (aka burned). Mac likes his bacon almost raw. My mother-in-law wondered out loud if that was because of his Armenian and Hungarian heritage. My mom's Hungarian and my dad's Armenian. The Armenian side makes kibbeh yearly. Kibbeh is served uncooked. Hence the bacon preference? Uh, probably not.
I love the fact that my family embraces their heritage and celebrates with food that my great-great grandparents would've eaten. Today the Mr. is grilling kabobs and I'm making pilaf and cucumber yogurt salad to go with. Daboyz are both out running around but they wanted to know what time dinner was being served to be sure they were here. Another generation caught in tradition.
I promise you should I have sounded the alarm, I'd have had a house full of Armenians by blood or marriage lined up for our simple dinner! It's not just about the taste of the food, although we do love that. It's about the feelings and memories of who we are and of belonging to people that came before us. For me, as I sit down with my pilaf I remember Christmas Eve dinners with my dad's family as well as summer dinners where pilaf was always the preferred accompaniment to chicken, steak or hamburgers on the grill. Chicken paprikash or stuffed cabbage bring back similar emotions.
Kiefles, kolach and baklava are sweet because of more than their sugary goodness.
I come from immigrants although I don't expect that my feelings are different from those of Southern, New England or Latin American heritage. As I prepare and enjoy these foods of my forefathers I think about people who made the same dishes with much less bounty at their fingertips. Those who came before me brought their recipes and traditions to families who ate by candlelight and without air conditioning or copper-bottom cookware. They lived in cramped housing and sometimes without indoor plumbing. They had just enough sometimes and not enough most of the time. They shopped for the ingredients for goulash or kibbeh in shops where they couldn't speak the language and only trusted they weren't being taken advantage of. They walked long distances to make a tiny bit of money so they could come home and make pilaf and shish kabob. Their traditions were the only wealth they had and all they left behind.
I consider my inheritance beyond counting. And the more of it I share, the more remains for my children and someday my grandchildren.
From poor and uneducated makers of stuffed cabbage and kibbeh came me; a college graduate. And my children; just starting their college careers with their dreams at their fingertips. So today I stand in my air conditioned kitchen having spent the day mulling over which new ceramic tile to have installed in my remodeling project. The Mr. has made appetizers for us to munch as we watch a movie waiting for the pilaf to be done. Jay is heading home to join us and Mac just called to say he'd be here soon.
We have so very much. I'm quite sure it's beyond the imaginations of those who took the time to teach my grandma to let the pilaf simmer slowly.
I'm glad we still have the inheritance they wanted most to give us.
Themselves.

August 12, 2007

Psalm 139:13 For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb.

Seasons

Psalm 104:19 The moon marks off the seasons, and the sun knows when to go down.

It's mid August here in Michigan and I have suspected something that I didn't want to share. I have suspected that summer is going to end. It seems that others are noticing the possibility as well, our local news team mentioned that it was dark earlier the night before than it has been. In the morning drive to work, it's darker now than it was last week. Wow, it sure does happen fast, doesn't it?
We've had a few weeks of miserably humid heat, temperatures in the nineties every single day. It's like walking through a swamp to get to your car and the air has to run all night long just to allow a person to sleep. Fans in the windows just push the moist heat at you. Then it broke yesterday settling down to the eighties. This morning (Saturday as I write this) it was 65 degrees out. I opened the windows to let a cool breeze drift through, humidity finally gone. That's the curtain call of summer here in the Great Lakes. It'll hang on with sunny beautiful days that we will grasp like a lifeline and then gone for months.
I've already heard word of back to school shopping and daboyz will buy their college texts this week. It occurs to me that I should haul out my wool pea coat to have it dry cleaned (meant to do that in the Spring).
I was watching my boyfriend Mike Holmes this morning and the show was obviously filmed during a Canadian fall day. A little damp in the mornings and giving way to bright sun as the afternoon wore on. The beginning of the program revealed visible breath as the people talked in the mornings and the afternoon portion showed short sleeves. The familiar look of Autumn.
I like Autumn and though I will grieve the glorious summer days, I'll welcome the change of seasons. We always go away for the weekend during our October anniversary and so damp streets and cool temperatures hold a warm place in my heart. Time to pull out sweatshirts and put away flip flops soon. I'll keep hitting the farm market until the "Closed Until Next Year" sign appears and then it's time for meatloaf and simmering soups.
Enjoy the curtain call of summer wherever you are today. We likely have a month or so if we claim Indian summer, which we do around these parts. But don't let sadness settle in over days gone by. There's a beauty to each season if you look for it. Breathe in the particular perfume of today and know it was created by a loving Father.
Happy summer.

Frankensara

1. Tina's singing.
2. Margie's hair.
3. Becky's serving.
4. Jennifer Anniston's body.
5. Billy Graham's heart.
6. Mrs. Mac's house.
7. My mom's cooking.
8. Kelly Ripa's job.
9. Julia Robert's smile.
10. Mike Holmes' wife's husband.

Minutia

Psalm 90:17 May the favor of the Lord our God rest upon us;establish the work of our hands for us—yes, establish the work of our hands.

I think I may have cooties. A few times a year I get this slow-building achy muscles/sore throat/headache/tired thing. Probably related to the Epstein Barre Virus I have. Anyway, tis back. I gutted through yesterday and today but I am welcoming the weekend and the promise of remaining horizontal as much as possible. I have visions of DVDs with some Mike Holmes and/or Rowe to see me through. Sometimes it's not all that bad to feel just a little bad. Makes you relax. Maybe my body knows something my head hasn't figured out.
I will be venturing out to buy a pair of beige scrub pants because I have decided I need some immediately because I have a wacky polka dot scrub top with no bottoms to match. You see the gravity of the situation I'm sure. I also need some hair products so I'll take care of that. And I would really like to hit the farm market for more fruits and veggies. OK, so I wont' remain entirely sedentary, but it's all good.
I got a card today from someone just telling me that they appreciate me and in general just being gracious and lovely to me. These things are such nice surprises aren't they? So easy to do for someone and it means so very much. I also got handed a note and it was addressed to "Sara, The Best." Silly and sweet and again; means more than anyone realizes. People are so good to me. I need to take a page from their books and pass more love and encouragement on to others. Only takes a minute to make someone's day.
Let's see, what else is fascinating in my world? My nails are all the perfect length and so I am giving myself French manicures until I tire of it and then I'll go natural again. Be sure to tell your friends about that important tidbit. My hair is looking pretty decent for two days in a row and for me, that is good news indeed. I think I'm going to grow my bangs out. Keep checking back for updates. My skin is very soft but only if I use Suave tanning lotion every night and then more smell-good lotion in the morning. I am currently keeping up with this tedious regime to decent results. Not only am I baby soft but with the tanning lotion I am almost Caucasian as opposed to transparent.
Caffeine free diet Pepsi is my new favorite soda.
I am craving fried cabbage but it is an awful lot of work what with the purchasing, cleaning, chopping and frying. But oh, how I love it. Maybe my mom will whip some up with noodles ala Hungarian style being that I am ever so sickly. Probably not.
I am going to go eat fresh tomatoes on buttered toast now.
Why you are still reading this is beyond me.

Live

Matthew 4:4 Jesus answered, "It is written: 'Man does not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God.'"

What do you live for?
Off the top of my head I would spout off the standards; "my family", "my kids", "my husband", "God"...
What if we all stood still for a moment and really paid attention to what has our attention for most of our waking time. Do the initial answers still apply? I know when I lay down at night and do the daily review (do you do this too?), I can figure out what I "lived" for on any given day by the directions of my conversations. Was there a dominant theme despite who I was talking to? Where did my thoughts tend to focus? If I talked about a specific thing to co-workers, my kids, the Mr., my mom and my friends it's safe to assume that topic was what I was living for. For that particular day at least.
Then I have to ask myself if I invested my life in worthy places. Too often I lay down only to realize that my life was wasted for that day at least.
Interestingly, we can get a lot done, good things even, while wasting our lives.
At the end of the day, I want to look at where I invested all the energy it took to keep my heart pumping, my brain firing and my lungs inflated and know that what I live for is worth it.
What do you live for?

Love

John 13:35 "By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another."

I am always moved by the instantaneous love of Christians. And humbled by how far I need to go in my own love for others. I'm slow to bond, you might say. I take approximately 12 years to warm up. I don't have tons of friends. I am rarely lonely and you may have heard that I am not so great at talking on the phone or keeping in touch.
Yet I have been on the receiving end of love that I would call nothing short of God-inspired. People whose friendship I've not "earned" express their devotion to me time and time again; reminding me to love better myself.
When I started my job three years ago, I was again reminded of God in the way my new co-workers embraced me. They cheered me on encouraging me as I panicked about taking the state nursing boards. They taught me patiently and celebrated my new license when I finally passed my boards. God loving me in mortal flesh.
Today again I witnessed the uncommon love of Christ leaving me in tears. Two friends of mine, both dear to me crossed my path. One by e mail and one by phone. Each expressed her great love for and desire to spend time with the other one. To encourage each other and to just love one another. Myself in the middle basking in such love.
Lord, teach me to love that way.

Arlene

Isaiah 53:5 But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.

Jehovah God; As Arlene goes for her antibody treatment; we ask you to add your anointing to this medication. Let it accomplish far beyond that which the doctors would hope for it. Give her comfort and strength in her body and deep peace in her spirit. Remove the pain in her left lower abdomen. Give her a healthy appetite and cravings for food that would aid her healing. Protect her from dehydration and nausea. Touch the hearts of every caregiver who will cross her path and give them an extra measure of wisdom and compassion. Bless every person who works on your behalf for Arlene's care. We accept all things in Jesus name. Amen.

wHat tHe H?

As I'm sure you all are now aware, the new Henry Ford Health System commercial in which I play a major leading starring role is now sweeping the nation. I have seen it no less than one time. People are stopping me everywhere to talk about it. And by that I mean in the hallway at work.
I must tell you that it's causing quite a stir around these parts. My sister, who was in a print ad for the same health system just this past May is herself ever so impressed. I'm having my front walk replaced with a red carpet this weekend.
In case you're wondering which person is me, let me give you some pointers.
I am wearing fabulous blue scrubs and a black stethoscope which is not mine.
Oh, and my name is right there on the screen!
Sarah Smith, RN
That's right, the superfluous H.
HuH!
Why do I find that so hilarious?

As we say in the business,
"wHetHer it's downriver..." tHe H stands for Hospital, HealtH and Hey! wHen did sHe start putting an H on Her name?
Just recently apparently.

Relationship

It is without regret that I inform you that the church I was raised in liked rules. No slacks. No drinking. No movies. No dances. No divorces. No cigarettes. No dice. No cards. No profanity. No slang. No fun...just kidding.
Actually, we had lots of fun. I don't recall ever feeling a great deal of loss because of the rules. My parents negotiated and let me attend Dean's prom and then my own. I was irritated at the time to be sure but it was not life-changing. I do regret not having dancing at my wedding because I love to dance and my wedding reception was the pits. Seriously, the pits. A little booze wouldn't have hurt either. Again, I kid.
The rules kind of put us a spiritual playpen and saved us from hurting ourselves. Raised in this environment, I didn't consider rebellion. It would have been against the rules. I didn't break curfew or try smoking. Certainly never drank alcohol. I did wear slacks, but not to church events. Married my high school sweetheart as a 19 year old virgin. No regrets.
Christianity in the early years needs to be cushioned with rules, I think. Like the nation of Israel; minus law we self-destruct. As we grow from spiritual childhood into adulthood, so our ability to self-govern needs to grow. Just like a little kid needs rules in kindergarten and a high school senior should know that you raise your hand before speaking.
Now I don't keep all the rules from the old days. Then again, some of the rules I no longer consider "rules" but I still live the same way. I do go to the movies, judiciously. I don't drink, it just seems silly.
I don't smoke because it's gross. I wear pants every day.
I dance because it makes me happy. I am not divorced because it causes pain.
I don't play cards because if you do, you are for sure going to hell wearing gasoline drawers.
I don't think God wants us forever tied to him by rules and fear of punishment. Just like I don't want my kids to obey and hate me. Growing up means the relationship matures to one where I want to please God. I like the heart-feeling of knowing I'm living as close to holy as I can get. I'm not afraid of falling down so much as afraid of not getting back up.
It is not fire-escape Christianity that drives me. It's the utter spiritual joy that comes from leaning my heart toward Christ that makes me ask him,"what do you want from me?" It's the soul-deep peace in the middle of a life that can rattle your teeth that I want.
I want to be grown up enough to step away from rules into a relationship, and find myself closer to the Lord as a result.

Romans 2:29 No, a man is a Jew if he is one inwardly; and circumcision is circumcision of the heart, by the Spirit, not by the written code. Such a man's praise is not from men, but from God.

All Aboard!

My parenting style could be described in two words; "control freak." I think this is why early on, the Lord did a little gentle nudging about wise parenting. When daboyz were tiny, I understood that I could enforce rules that would keep them more or less on track. However, if they did not internalize the principles of scripture more than the house rules I made; age 18 posed the threat of them stepping off the house rules cliff into moral oblivion. I did not want our relationship post high school to be one of "my way or the high way."
Now that both boys are out of school our rules are more like negotiations. There are things they believe, think and do that I count as errors. There are things I believe, think and want that they don't embrace. However, Jesus bridges those gaps because the relationship amongst the four of us is one of love and respect if not always agreement. They make mistakes that my rules would've prevented and like any parent, this makes me nuts. They also say and do amazing things that I'd like to take all the credit for, but they are now their own persons. Their successes are their own just like their mistakes.
What I have learned in the last almost 20 years is that I have very little to offer these children/men. They have to negotiate life through a relationship with the Lord and not with me. They can obey every Christian rule I can think of and ultimately spend eternity in hell if their heart is not surrendered to Christ himself.
They can also obey every Dean & Sara rule and hate us in their hearts.
Neither of those options is acceptable to me. And so I have done my best and made mistakes covered in prayer. It is a little scary, this new part of life where little boys are grown men and can destroy every dream you've dreamed for them. So far, so good.
Two in college, one with a career already started. Two parents with no more rules to use as a safety net.
Four adults and one Jesus living under the same roof

Proverbs 22: 6 Train a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not turn from it.

August 5, 2007

James 1:17 Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.

Barry & Arlene

Father, Send my sister and brother peace that passes understanding right now. Many years ago as a little girl, Sister Rose said that satan would never bother someone who didn't frighten him. I know this attack is of that enemy afraid of those who battle in Your name. We have asked for Arlene's complete healing and continue to do so by the stripes of Your Son. Tonight though Lord, I ask for another kind of touch. I ask that you touch them in spiritual places. You see that they are weary and you are a God touched by our weakness. You are a God of compassion. It is not their faith in you that wavers for we know that You are the mighty God Jehovah. It is just the mortal flesh that grows tired in battle. Let your angels now be dispatched from the throne room to minister to them in places that we cannot reach in the flesh. Let the soothing balm of Gilead be applied to their souls tonight. God I ask that you would remove all obstacles in heavenly realms that would try to keep joy from their hearts and peace from their minds. I ask you to breathe a new life into them and a new Word into them. I ask you to give them vision as proof of life. I ask you to give them a fresh anointing. Let them fall asleep tonight held in blessed assurance. Let them have faith that the world calls crazy. Give them laughter. Inhabit the temple of their home and the praise they have established as their standard. You have always been with Barry and Arlene, tonight God I ask you to reveal yourself in all the ways that would heal their tiredness. Finally Lord, I ask you to touch Arlene's lower left side. I ask you to literally put your scarred hand against her abdomen and let the warmth of your touch spread through her body. Let her physical being respond to your authority as pain is forced to flee in your presence. You have overcome death and pain by your love for us and right now I accept that love and the relief that comes with it. Let my sister feel your touch God. Let her be so quieted by the weight of your presence that she is able only to be still in the magnificent love you have manifested in her. Let her lay in her home tonight and know that surely, the presence of the Lord is in this place. In the name of Jesus Christ, Messiah and Healer we claim all good and perfect gifts. We thank you and praise you. By Your Stripes...Amen

Prizes I Want

1. A DSM (Diagnostic and Statistical Manuel of Psychiatry)
2. A Holmes on Homes hat (available online!)
3. 2 bags of white ankle socks to replace all my old ones.
4. Fresh vegetables.
5. One of them clip boards what has the plastic storage thing on it for your stuff.
6. Arts & Crafts style decorating magazines.
7. NOT arts & crafts magazines.
8. A fantastic black ink pen for work.
9. A new pillow that will make my neck stop hurting.
10. Dagwood & Blondie DVD

Such A Sweet Life

It's Friday and who doesn't love that?
I'm looking forward to a wonderful weekend of relaxing and hanging out with my menfolk. The Mr. will be home shortly and I'm predicting a dinner for two out 'cause I ain't cookin'! I've had a week filled with a thousand tiny joyful moments and I'm finally learning to stop and recognize them. I was even surprised with a homemade spaghetti lunch and garlic bread from some of my friends! How great are my friends?
I know this post isn't particularly profound despite Margie requesting something along those lines. But I'm just feeling downright happy right now and that's about as profound as I can be.
Life is sweet.

p.s. Here is a fun picture of a giraffe. How could you see that and not be happy?

Isaiah 12:6 Shout aloud and sing for joy, people of Zion, for great is the Holy One of Israel among you."

And We Love Sara!

We Love Kelly & Pat!

My Boyfriend

This is my new boyfriend, Mike Holmes. I love him ever so much. I don't watch TV; except for his show, Holmes on Homes.
I love him.
He is my new boyfriend.