One Strand of Lights

There's always at least one Clark Griswold moment in my holiday decorating. Usually it occurs when one strand of annoying Christmas lights refuses to twinkle after being strung on the tree. All of that time and effort to carefully wrap the lights in between the branches, all of the anticipation of a beautifully lit tree and.......nothing. CLARK!!!!!!

This year began with a ginormous strand of broken lights in my life.  I'll spare you the gory details, but suffice it to say that things were messy and painful.  The darkness of that one little strand of lights began to eclipse the light of all of the others.  I was drowning in grief from hidden sorrow.  The unspoken story of my life haunted me and a deep fear that I would not find my way back to a fully lit life consumed me.   My faith suffered, my health took a nose-dive and I was worried that I would lose my job.  I was barely functioning.

I tried desperately to fix those tiny, broken pieces of glass, but I couldn't do it.  For a long time I wallowed in the depressing darkness.  But then I was reminded that light was living and breathing in me and would eventually triumph over the blackness.

"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it."

This year when I put up my tree there was one pesky strand of lights that promptly quit working.  At first I focused all of my energy on making them twinkle, but then I gave up.  I sat and stared at my tree in disappointment.  I was focused on the unlit strand and what it represented to me when I finally noticed the other lights.  Their brightness was contagious and eventually I no longer focused on the darkness. 

Those little shimmering lights became symbols for me: of deeper faith, comforting hugs, intimate friendships, a family's laughter, my dog's snuggle, Maya's smile, life.  The list is unending.  Yes, there will always be broken lights, shards of darkness that try to steal the light, horrible memories, atrocities, deception, betrayal.  I refuse to ignore them any longer, I will acknowledge how they shape(d) me and choose to learn from them instead of fearing them.  The light Who lives in me will illuminate my path and overcome the darkness from the broken strand of lights. 

May the broken strands in your life intertwine with the light of Christ's life and unending, redeeming love.  Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

Purple Elephant Ears

On a warm, December Saturday in South Texas a mixed group of at least 20 ladies gathered at "Painting with a Twist" to celebrate the birthdays of a few friends. We signed up to paint a replica of a famous Van Gogh painting.

Here's a look at the beautiful original:

"Irises in a Vase" by Van Gogh

Here's a look at the replica used at Painting with a Twist:

Replica by Painting with a Twist



The set-up was nice.  A cute little studio with friendly instructors, easels, aprons and large, blank canvases.  Yikes.  It's a good thing there was an abundance of wine, cheese and chocolate! 

How in the world was I, a non-visual artist going to paint something that even came close to resembling that?  The short answer?  I wasn't.  Sigh.  Let me say it another way, I WILL NOT be quitting my day job!  All of the ladies did a great job, or at least produced something much more palatable than my "beautiful disaster".  But you know what, I had a blast, we ALL did.  Lots of laughter and joy, and hey, I now have my white elephant gift for this year!    

My "masterpiece", or rather proof of my artistic failings!

"Purple Elephant Ears"



Peace in the Absence of Answers

Why ask why?  

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yH9KRFlRFI0

Do you remember those silly commercials?  They used to be some of my favorites.  Not because I'm fond of beer ~ I'm not and my virgin lips had never even tasted alcohol at the time those spots first aired ~ but I am a girl who never ceases to ask why.  It's an annoying and exhausting trait; if I'm not asking out of curiosity then I'm asking out of anger. 

Here's a sample of the random, completely unrelated questions that zoom through my mind in any given 10-minute period:  

• Why does Dr. Pepper make me so happy?
• Why does love hurt?
• Why am I so complicated?
• Why do people stop at yield signs but yield at stop signs?
• Why do evil people steal the innocence from children?
• Why, why, why, why, WHY?

Perhaps the endless questions explain why I'm so exhausted all the time!  For some misguided reason part of me has always believed that knowing the answers to all of my questions would bring me peace. I was wrong.  Some answers did bring peace, but many times they brought additional turmoil, heartbreak and even more whys instead. 

Ironically it seems that knowing the answers is sometimes more painful than not knowing them.  Yet, I'm driven to seek them anyway.  However, I've been burned often enough that I've learned to mix the answers with an abundance of grace, peace and wisdom, otherwise the knowledge can overwhelm, confuse and destroy my fragile sense of peace.

If you had a choice between learning why or experiencing peace, which one would you choose?  This is one question that has an easy answer for me.  Instead of torturing myself with the unanswered whys, I'd rather have peace.  That doesn't mean I will ever stop searching for answers, it means I will find a way to live with the difficult ones.  It means I will put my trust in God's wisdom even when the answers don't satisfy my curiosity or sense of justice.  Ultimately that is when I find peace.

Priceless Scars

• Kayak  $800
• Life jacket  $100
• Cooler  $50
• Drowning and miraculously living to tell about it?  Priceless

My cousin Cole could be the new spokesperson for MasterCard. In mid-September he drowned while kayaking.  No one knows how long he was under the water, but it was too long.  One friend ran for help, the other dragged him from the water while performing CPR.  When he arrived at the hospital he was  unconscious and the prognosis was not good.  We all hoped and prayed that he would survive while we prepared ourselves for the worst.    

It was touch and go for awhile.  He was immediately put in a hypothermic state to slow down the damage to his organs.   When he awoke from his drug-induced coma he was miserable, but managed to display his dry sense of humor before intense abdominal pain led to emergency surgery.  Over a  foot of his colon was removed, likely damaged by the kayak or oars while he was under the water.  He was on dialysis for approximately 6 weeks, but a few weeks ago his kidneys finally began functioning on their own.  The good people at RIOSA confirmed that he had no brain damage and little physical damage.  He doesn't remember the accident but he suffers nightmares nonetheless.  He is healing but is too skinny now, his skin stretching uncomfortably over his formerly muscular, 6'11 frame.  Cole is alive, and our family is unbelievably grateful, but he has scars now. 

We all have scars. I don't know about you, but I am always aware of the wounds that caused mine.  Although they are not physically obvious they've left jagged little marks all over my life, and I've resented them for many years.  Only lately have I begun to realize the limitless value of those ugly marks.  Of course I wish that the wounds had never occurred. I wish there was nothing unsightly marring my desired perfect state, no hideous memories to haunt me.  But the scars remain despite my denial.  Now they are priceless because they remind me that I'm a survivor.  They remind me of valuable lessons and confirm that I have a purpose.  They focus my passion for justice and deepen my faith.  They have become priceless because I have chosen to use them to my advantage instead of living in the bitterness of the original wounds.  They have become priceless because they have shown me the way to peace in the absence of answers.

Every time I see or feel my scars I am aware that I survived for a reason and that I have a purpose.  I pray that every time Cole looks at the jagged marks on his own body he remembers that he survived and was spared for a purpose too.  I pray the same for you.

London Calling Part 2

At the end of a long day touring The Tower of London and the rest of the city on a big, red, double-decker bus, I was attempting to make it to the National Museum before closing time.  Luigi was the French/Italian tour guide with a wonderfully dry sense of humor who confirmed that the museum was closed and promptly began flirting with me.  I was the tired American tourist who was more than a little bored with London, but flattered that a handsome European with a fantastic accent was paying attention to me.  And oh yeah, I was also feeling a wee bit lonely after a week spent exploring Slovenia with me, myself and I.  Although the attention was nice it was clearly a recipe for disaster or at least near-disaster!

It started innocently enough.  I asked about the museum, he said he couldn't tell me unless I smiled for him.  So I flashed my pearly whites at which point he told me he would do whatever I wanted if I would just smile at him again.  I rolled my eyes and laughed and started to walk away, he stopped me and offered to walk me back to my hotel, which was convenient since I was a little lost.  Now, as naive as I can be (as you'll soon learn), I am not so stupid as to give a complete stranger the name of my hotel.  Instead I played dumb and pretended that I couldn't remember so he asked me to have a drink with him instead and I spontaneously agreed, oblivious to the fact that I had just been played.  

As we walked toward Hyde Park he grabbed my hand as we crossed the busy street.  Guess he thought I might step in front of one of those big, red buses. ;-)  But I was too busy being flattered to notice his violation of my personal space, something I usually guard rather fiercely.  As we enjoyed the amazing weather, bright blue skies and beautiful flowers we talked about our jobs and families.  He really tried to turn on the charm by exaggerating his accent but I just laughed and asked him he thought that would work.  He winked and said it usually did and then hugged AND kissed me!  Now, perhaps you're thinking that I would finally see the writing on the wall, but you would be wrong. 

You see, after many years I had finally succeeded in becoming an invisible woman in image-conscious America.  I was out of practice; no longer used to the attention of men.  I was so convinced that I was revolting that I honestly thought he was just enjoying a nice walk with a new friend.  I was an easy target, completely blind to his true intentions.  CRINGE. 

By the time we made it out of the park his XOXOs were finally starting to bug me.  I was still willing to meet him for drinks, but then he upped the ante by saying we should both go freshen up at which point he would join me in my hotel room with a bottle of wine.  Saw what?  Did he think I was easy?  WTH?  Finally my eyes were WIDE open and his intentions were crystal clear, but instead of telling him off or at the very least slapping him I was still trying to be nice!  I politely told him that I was not comfortable with that option and he backed off rather quickly, stuttering that it was just a suggestion, blah, blah, blah.  And believe it or not, I felt guilty for leading him on!  American idiot, right here in the flesh (ode to Green Day).   

When we parted at the entrance to the tube I was sufficiently stressed and paranoid.  I very cautiously crept down the street toward my hotel, darting in and out of different stores and crossing the street in a zigzag pattern as I imagined covert CIA operatives did when trying to escape the KGB.  After taking 30 minutes to walk the 2 blocks to my hotel I entered completely befuddled.  Thankfully there were some nice ladies in the common room who talked some sense into me and I decided to stay in for the night.  On a side note it really is a small world.  Even though they were from Oregon we knew people in common and one of them was heading to visit her friends in Kandern, the tiny village where I had left Laurie and her family just a week earlier! 

All in all my encounter with Luigi was not the best way to end my trip.  Although I can laugh about it now, at the time it was really upsetting.  I was angry at my own stupidity and naiveté.  As I settled into my closet  room I cried in frustration as I realized that I had squandered my last opportunity to partake of Indian food in London, one of few things on my must-do list.  If only I had clued in sooner I could have walked away unscathed and filled my grumbling tummy with some yummy Chicken Tika! 

Told you I was naive.  So now you know why I have avoided writing about London for so long.  Aside from my disappointment it's just plain embarrassing to admit how dumb I was!  Here's to hoping I've learned my lesson.  At least I can enjoy good Indian food locally and I'm pretty sure there is no one named Luigi frequenting India Palace!  ;-)

London Calling Part 1

There's a reason it has taken me 16 months to relate my London adventures, you see I really  did not enjoy my stay in the city.  There, I admitted it, although hating London is probably considered a sin by my sister-in-law who has visited on numerous occasions and loves all things British.  She obviously sees something there that I don't.  So I've made a new rule that since we've enjoyed other parts of England together, when or rather IF I return to London, she has to be with me.  :-)

It didn't help that I flew into jolly ole' England after spending a week in the beautiful country of Slovenia.  Ljubljana, the capital city, has an abundance of charm that most cities lack.  Suffice it to say, London was a huge shock after spending 5 days mellowing with the laid back Slovenians.  The flight to England was uneventful, but the bus ride from Stanstead Airport was a full 117 minutes longer than I had anticipated.  That put me into the city well after 8:30 pm, and if you've traveled with me at all you know that I will get lost in an unfamiliar city.  Sigh.

The entire ordeal was made slightly worse by having to haul my luggage around with me as I wandered in and out of tube stops trying to decipher my map.  It must have been written in Greek because I never could figure out how to read it...  I asked for help repeatedly and was pointed in numerous different directions by people who understood Greek.  Finally, after I had wandered around for almost 2 hours and it was dark and cold outside, I plopped myself in front of a subway worker and promptly burst into tears.  He produced a handy yellow highlighter, explained that my stop had the same name as a different stop (why????) and calmed me down, ever so concerned at the scene I was causing.  I gave him a watery smile, squeaked out my gratitude and proceeded to dry my tears, gather my courage and follow the yellow-brick road to my hotel.

My closet room

You would be more impressed if you could have smelled the noxious odor it emitted.  The shared bathroom down the hall was just slightly better than the gas station bathrooms I usually avoid.  The loo did not like to flush and the shower barely put out any water.  But those were typical of Europe and I knew I could live with that for one day.  At least the room was affordable, the staff friendly and the computer free!  (Read: Pessimist trying to pretend that the glass is half full.)

That's not to say that I didn't enjoy aspects of the city,because I did.  I was especially excited to see the Tower of London, even though trying to gaze at the Crown Jewels while standing on an automatic walkway was beyond annoying.  I had to ride that walkway several times to do justice to all of those rather large, glittering jewels!  But outside the sky was an amazing shade of blue, the flowers were in bloom and the weather was nearly perfect, London definitely smiled on me in that respect.

And then there are the loos.  Oh how I wish you could have seen the sour, unamused look on the bathroom attendant's face as I laughingly snapped this photo:  

With the exception of said bathroom attendant, those British folks have a heck of a sense of humor!  Giggle with me as you picture the annual "Loo Awards" ceremony.  Attendees dressed in their best formal attire, glamorous hair, perfect makeup, dazzling jewels, dapper tuxes, smiling and posing for the paparazzi while trailing little pieces of sandpaper toilet paper along the pillowy soft, white carpet.  Instead of makeup and electronics, their goodie bags would contain Charmin and Quilted Northern.  Can't you just hear Sir Ian McKellan making the grand announcement, "And the Loo of the Year for 2009 goes to..........drum roll.......the fine folks at the Tower of London, congratulations!!!!!" as he hands over a beautiful, golden loo?  Imaging that ceremony kept me entertained for the rest of the day. 

Next:  Proof for my family that I actually purchased and attempted to eat fish and chips: 

This from the girl who has yet to live down the fact that she ordered chicken at the world famous Amstruther's Fish & Chips shop during a family trip to Scotland.  I was determined to at least try it this time.  Verdict?  YUCK.  I hated the fish but ate the chips and then bought another Coca-Cola to wash the fish taste from my mouth.  Fish and I don't get along unless they're swimming in a tank, not battered, fried and sitting on my plate.  

The rest of the time I rode around on the top of a big, red, double-decker bus.  Of course, I nearly froze to death as the open top allowed the wind to give me frostbite and whip my hair into a tangled, frizzy mess.  But even though I had forgotten my jacket, I was too stubborn to move because the top offered the best views and it was my only chance to snap ample photographs of Big Ben, Buckingham Palace, various statues, churches and other buildings.   

All of those things were enjoyable or at the very least memorable.  However, they were the typical tourist stops and make for a boring story.  Here's the real reason why the mention of London shoots a shiver up my spine over a year later: his name was LUIGI and he was a tour guide on that big, red, double-decker bus.

Jet Lag

Lately I have been SO tired that all I can manage is sleep and sometimes a little work.  There are only 2 things that make me this tired: Mononucleosis and jet lag.

Of the two I prefer jet lag.

Honestly, if I have to be this tired, it should be for a good reason!It's not that I love jet lag in and of itself. No, I don't like having my internal clock turned topsy-turvy.  It's what jet lag represents to me that I love.  I'm fortunate because when I travel it's for pleasure.  For a few weeks, excitement and adventure replace my mundane, daily life.

• I experience exotic adventures
• Listen to a symphony of foreign languages
• Taste a variety of new foods - some good, some bad but all memorable!
• Eat my weight in pistachio GELATO - if I'm anywhere in the vicinity of Italy that is
• Try to figure out how to flush the toilets, even those award winning loos in England.......
• Suspiciously enter a futuristic, self-cleaning WC in Paris before exiting in awe
• Curse as I attempt to use a squatty potty without needing to take a shower after...ugh
• Ride miles and miles on planes, trains and automobiles (and metros, tubes, subways and boats!) on my way to new destinations
• Walk in the footsteps of HISTORY
• Gaze upon priceless works of art: Mona Lisa, Statue of David, Van Goghs, Monets, Picassos, Whistlers, etc...
• Gape at fascinating architecture - from the ancient Acropolis to the modern Eye of London

Those are just a few of the things afforded to me by jet lag.  At this juncture in my life I'm thrilled that I have indulged my adventurous side and traveled the world, even if I'm often alone, with little money and exhausted from working an extra job to pay for the privilege! I leave with a broader knowledge of other cultures and the history that shaped them, a deeper understanding of the people who live in those cultures and a lifetime of memories that make me smile and sigh contentedly.   Traveling has become a passion for me and every last minute has been worth the adventure.  Here's to hoping for many more adventures in the years to come!

A Season of Silence

Have you ever been in that place where there is so much you want to say, so many thoughts swirling in your head and no matter how hard you try you cannot articulate them?  That's where I am now. 

My voice has entered a season of silence.  No matter how badly I want to speak all I can manage is to listen for that still small voice. 

Maybe soon my messes can be untangled and I can find a way to speak the things that have temporarily silenced me.  Maybe.

I'll close with the lyrics to one of my favorite songs by Andrew Peterson, "The Silence of God":

It's enough to drive a man crazy; it'll break a man's faith

It's enough to make him wonder if he's ever been sane

When he's bleating for comfort from Thy staff and Thy rod

And the heaven's only answer is the silence of God

It'll shake a man's timbers when he loses his heart

When he has to remember what broke him apart

This yoke may be easy, but this burden is not

When the crying fields are frozen by the silence of God

And if a man has got to listen to the voices of the mob

Who are reeling in the throes of all the happiness they've got

When they tell you all their troubles have been nailed up to that cross

Then what about the times when even followers get lost?

'Cause we all get lost sometimes...

There's a statue of Jesus on a monastery knoll

In the hills of Kentucky, all quiet and cold

And He's kneeling in the garden, as silent as a Stone

All His friends are sleeping and He's weeping all alone

And the man of all sorrows, he never forgot

What sorrow is carried by the hearts that he bought

So when the questions dissolve into the silence of God

The aching may remain, but the breaking does not

The aching may remain, but the breaking does not

In the holy, lonesome echo of the silence of God

If You Do This At Home

KEEP THIS

AND LOTS OF THESE

TO CLEAN THIS

Don't worry, no one was murdered in my bathroom.  Just a bottle of mulberry nail polish.  Sigh. 

A Snail's Pace

Usually when I see a snail I  walk the other way, all the while shuddering as I think, "People eat those things?"  Well now that I have a very curious puppy, walking away is out of the question.  Zeus loves all kinds of creatures, but he is especially fascinated with snails.  

Recently we have seen many snails on our morning walks.  Just today we saw a large snail sporting an intricately designed, brown shell.  I was shocked at how beautiful it was; it looked like it had been hand decorated by an exotic henna artist!

For a few moments I stood distracted as I admired its outward beauty and tried to keep Zeus from tormenting it to death.  But it wasn't long before I grew bored because I knew that wasn't the real snail.  What I wanted to see was the slimy, messy, unattractive but infinitely more interesting snail with little antennas and funny eyes.  I wanted to see what was inside that fancy shell.

As we stood quietly our patience was rewarded as he slowly began to emerge.  He looked both ways several times, twitched his antennas and finally exposed his vulnerable body to the elements AND to my dog.  Of course, Zeus was eager to play with his new "friend" and scared him back into his shell almost immediately.

I always thought that everything about snails was slow, but boy howdy when that little fella felt threatened by the giant, eager puppy blocking his path he retreated faster than the speed of sound!  I stood giggling for several more minutes as he repeatedly emerged at a typical snail's pace and retreated like a speeding bullet at the first sign of Zeus.  Each time he was scared back into his shell he became slower to emerge and quicker to retreat.    

Finally I made Zeus wait off to the side so the snail could breathe.  Once he felt safe enough to begin traveling again I watched as he made slow but steady progress toward the giant shrub that he was intent on destroying.  My landlord may have preferred that I let Zeus scare him away but I just couldn't do it, because in observing that snail, I observed myself. 

I am a lot like that snail.  It takes a very long time for me to poke my head out and see if it's safe.  It's an agonizing process and requires much patience from those who are curious about what's on the inside.  If I feel safe once I'm "on the outside" I make slow and steady progress toward my humble goals.  Sadly I often destroy good things in a continued effort to protect myself when I feel vulnerable, but unlike the snail I specialize in self-destruction!  Once someone or something scares me I retreat more quickly than that snail, speeding bullets have nothing on me.  I am quick to protect the vulnerable, slimy, mess hidden inside.  I paint, pad, clothe and generally use my shell to distract people from the real me, and I fall into that pattern over and over again.

To be fair, the shell is necessary at times.  It doesn't do much good for me to always play the martyr or to live as a victim.  Yet exposing the truth of myself is risky because I can easily get hurt, even by people I trust, or especially by people I trust.  But it doesn't change the fact that I want to live without fear when I'm outside of my shell; to do my work, love my friends and reach out to those in need.  I want to expose the real, slimy mess of my life to people who will help protect me from the harsh elements so I don't suffocate or shrivel and die inside of myself.  The only way I find the courage to try again is when I remember that God loves the real me more than the shell.  In exposing myself to others I'm really exploring who I am and letting His love and redemption transform me into the woman He always hoped I would be instead of a shell of her.

So now you know, I'm a slimy mess, slow and awkward.  Maybe by admitting that it will give those around me freedom to expose the truth about themselves, because as I've discovered, living in a shell is kind of like living in my own little prison.  It might be pretty but it's still a gilded cage.

 

Little Blue Demons

True confession ~ there was a time when I believed that The Smurfs were little blue demons. Of course I also believed that Satan was encoding secret messages in "secular" records (I went to the seminar), that Bill Gothard was right (cough, cough), AND that Armageddon was imminent, er, well imminent anytime between 1988-2048, guess the jury is still out on that one!

Sigh. All of that sounds ludicrous to me now. I cringe red-faced when looking back at the misguided zealot I was. How many people were wounded by my unfair criticisms?

Yet I still know many, many people; sincere, kind, warm, compassionate friends and family who believe those same things or at least the 21st century equivalent of them. Still, I refrain from judging them because I've matured enough to know that I'm not right about everything although I often tend to believe I am wiser and more enlightened than my fellow travelers. ☺

It's easy to forget that we are all navigating our way through a confusing landscape of morality. It took many years for me to learn that I don't have to compromise my deep convictions and spiritual beliefs to embrace humility, grace and kindness. Sometimes I forget that or feel insecure and threatened by someone else's differing viewpoint and react by spewing harsh judgments. Perhaps it's easier to focus on the "little blue demons" in others than the ones taking up residence in my own life. 

These days those annoying blue characters are things like pride, selfishness, entitlement, lack of mercy, loving poorly. Basically they are my own negative character traits, I no longer worry about everyone elses because mine take so much time and energy! So even if we passionately disagree about matters big or small, I will try to respond in kindness without compromising what I believe to be true. Now if you'll excuse me I want to watch an episode of The Smurfs before it's too late, what with Armageddon and all.

Bad Romance

Embarrassing as it is to admit I have an affinity for Lady Gaga's music.  Despite the fact that her eccentric and exhibitionist personality is quite distasteful to my more conservative sensibilities.  And as bad as the lyrics are, I mean seriously referring to male anatomy as a "disco stick" is not exactly poetic, I still listen and laugh.  Not to mention her costumes.  Honestly, if you're going to dress like a Muppet and call it art, then we're probably not going to have anything to talk about now are we? 

But her music is so catchy it makes me wanna dance, which rarely happens these days!  I bop along in my car and office completely oblivious to the spectacle I create.  The fact that I'm not embarrassed is actually more embarrassing than my horrendous dancing and singing skills!  

Rah-rah-ah-ah-ah

Roma-Roma-ma

GaGa, ooh-la-la

Want your bad romance

I want your ugly I want your disease

I want your everything as long as it's free

I want your love, love, love, love

I want your love

Hm, I don't know about you, but based on just the first few lyrics of one of my favorites, Bad Romance, I sense that Lady Gaga's idea of love and romance is pretty twisted and FAR different from my own view.  After all, I'm not really interested in getting anyone's disease!  And I'm smart enough and old enough to know that nothing is free, especially love.  It always costs something.  Just ask Jesus.  

Don't worry I'm fresh out of soap boxes so instead I'll just tell you about one of the most beautiful expressions of love I've ever witnessed.  A few years ago I watched as my niece was serenaded by her new husband at their wedding reception. Tears filled the eyes of every wedding guest as we watched him get down on one knee and belt out a song that obviously meant the world to them.  He wasn't a professional used to singing for an audience, he lacked the polish of a trained vocalist and his voice was a little shaky.  Simon Cowell would have butchered him.  But he didn't care, instead he risked humiliation and rejection to sing to the love of his life.  And in that moment he proved that he would love her without fear, and more than his pride.  It was the best performance I've seen in my entire life.  Lady Gaga should take note because that's romance, good romance.

God give me the courage to love so fearlessly, honestly and humbly!

Diary of a Staycation ~ Days 16 & 17

Day 16~Spent the day looking at these on Willow City Loop in Fredericksburg, Tx:

And eating this at Cooper's BBQ in Llano, Tx:

Day 17~My last day of freedom. I skipped church and slept late, then watched a movie, read a book and took a nap. Finally roused myself enough to prepare a salad and attend my small group before going home and going to bed early! Nothing terribly exciting but just what I needed.

All in all I had a great staycation. I've never done it before and let me tell you, I'm hooked. I'll definitely be doing it again in the future!

Diary of a Staycation - Days 13, 14 & 15

Day 13~We interrupt this staycation to bring you an urgent message from the real world. Ugh, work. Wednesday found me back at the office. I just wasn't ready. But paychecks were calling! I worked half a day and promptly EXTENDED MY VACATION. ☺☺☺ Woo hoo, 4 more days to do what I wanted!!!! Have I mentioned how much I LOVE the flexibility of my job? My boss rocks!

Day 14~Woke up too early and couldn't go back to sleep so Zeus and I went for a short walk. Then I watched a movie and he snoozed. I did some reading and then Serina called. When she realized I was home she came over with fresh bagels and cream cheese and we hung out for almost 3 hours just talking and looking at maternity clothes. It was so nice! I still thought I might go to the office, but when she left I quickly talked myself out of it and took a nap instead. ☺ That kind of freedom was pure bliss! I ended the night by watching season 2 of Alias while downloading some of my CD collections to iTunes. It was totally self-indulgent and I loved every minute of it.

Day 15~Another day of nothing, it was so boring I can't even remember what I did, although I'm sure it included lots of naps....

Diary of a Staycation~Days 10, 11 & 12

Day 10~Ah, food poisoning, what a lovely way to celebrate the resurrection of Christ. Apparently the French Onion dip the boys and I shared on Friday and Saturday was included in a recall due to Salmonella contamination. Lovely. I'll spare you the details. Needless to say, I skipped church. By the time I arrived at my parent's house with Aunt Myrtle I was feeling somewhat better and decided to partake in lunch with family and friends. Really bad idea. Again, I'll spare you the details. You're welcome.

Despite my GI issues, we had a nice time celebrating Easter with some extra guests, Zach, Serina, Cameron and my mom's friend Erin and her dog Oliver. Following are a few snapshots from our celebration.

Cameron, Zachary and my dad riding in the electric truck:

Cascarone fight!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

After the festivities, Bethany came home with me to spend the night and watch a movie, she naively thought I just had a case of gas. Ha! Poor thing, she tried to play nursemaid in between her texting as I lay on the couch moaning. We did manage to squeeze in a movie, Sherlock Holmes, but then I was spent and had to go to bed. I'm pretty sure she was up all night texting, but that's par for the course since her cell phone was surgically implanted into her hand on her 14th birthday..... I didn't feel too sorry for her because she got what she wanted, but my lips are sealed as to what that was! Let's just say I'm a very cool, good aunt. ;-)

Day 11~I was still sick so after taking Bethany home I canceled my planned trip to Clay Casa with Kaitlyn and went right back to bed. Eventually I got up and drove to get my massage (the birthday gift from my boss) and I'm glad I did because I actually felt better after. And guess what? I let her spend about 30 minutes working on my neck!!! That was a small victory for me and even though she said I was extremely tense it felt so good to have someone work on those 40-year-old knots. I'm considering a part time job so that I can afford regular massages, it's addictive!

Day 12~Another day of nothing. Sleep, movies, reruns of Home Improvement, Everybody Loves Raymond, Friends, Seinfeld. It felt good to be really, really lazy. Staycations rock!

Diary of a Staycation~Days 5, 6, 7, 8 & 9

Day 5~Nothing, and it was blissful. I slept, watched movies, ate, did some laundry. Then I vacuumed and took another nap......or two!

Day 6~It's my birthday, it's my birthday!!!! Oops, internal "plumbing" problems didn't seem to care that it was MY special day. All those visits to the bathroom interrupted my naps! Bummer. But I did manage to squeeze in a movie (District 9) and I received a lot of birthday phone calls.

By 5:30 pm I was better and my parents arrived to treat me to dinner at Tip Top Cafe where my dad and I indulged in Chicken Fried Steak with cream gravy, plumbing be damned! Then we drove around Woodlawn Lake and surprised Serina, Gigi and Cameron as they were eating dinner on their porch. Finally we returned to my apartment and I opened a few presents before they left and I took another nap. Who knew staycations were so exhausting?! ;-)

Day 7~April Food's Day dawned a little too early for me and I made Zeus go back to sleep until 10:00 am, no joke. I didn't have anyone to fool, but Laurie pulled a great prank on her kids. She made blue pancakes for breakfast and told them that her flour must have been moldy, they were completely grossed out!

At noon Serina, Gigi and I met at Bubblehead Tea and enjoyed green tea smoothies. WOW, I had NO idea they would be so good. If you go, try the mango smoothie, you won't be disappointed. We'll definitely be going back for more. Next we made our way to La Frite and were joined by a new friend, Erin. We all enjoyed food, fellowship AND dessert (chocolate tarte) and left quite satisfied. It was a nice, relaxing day.

Day 8~Good Friday was restful as well. I took Zeus for a short walk and then watched a movie before, you guessed it - taking a nap! My nephews arrived at 3:30 pm for a sleepover and we headed to the video store and Blockbuster to stock up on junk food and movies. I made a quick detour to pick up my birthday gift from Lane so I could enjoy it over the weekend. (Thanks Lane, I love it!!) And then I cooked frozen pizzas for the boys and introduced them to Ghostbusters. We laughed and I danced a silly dance to the theme song before launching into "All The Single Ladies" in a chipmunks voice, which completely scandalized my nephews. It was WELL worth my own humiliation to see the looks on their faces!

We finished the night by watching "Cloudy With A Chance of Meatballs" and I decided that spray-on shoes are a pretty good idea. By that time I was exhausted because I didn't get my 3rd afternoon nap so I went to sleep. The boys stayed up ALL night watching infomercials and "Lord of the Rings". I remember when I was young enough to recover from an all-nighter, it was a long time ago...

Day 9~Saturday morning we visited Bistro Bakery and picked up fresh eclairs, donut holes and kolaches to eat at the park. Zeus happily sniffed every blade of grass while the boys devoured the food and we enjoyed the cool morning breeze. We went home to gather their belongings and then I stopped by Pasha to pick up some Persian food for my brother and his family. My sister-in-law grew up eating Schwarma in The Netherlands and missed it so I was happy to surprise her with a taste of her childhood.

The evening rolled around and I enjoyed a great movie and Indian food with one of the funniest people I know. It hit the spot, every single spot I have! For those of you who haven't seen "Crazy Heart" let me just say that it was a really touching movie. I was completely engrossed in the story and was really rooting for the characters. The themes of grace and redemption were powerful and the acting was stellar.

All in all I enjoyed rest and relaxation mixed with fun and fellowship and I feel good!

Diary of a Staycation~Days 3 & 4

Day 3~Woke up with a headache but I refused to believe it was a hangover! I skipped church and fell asleep again before rousing myself to get ready for a luncheon at the Mesicks' beautiful home. The food was superb and the company was great. Made some new friends (I hope!) and enjoyed good fellowship and conversation before heading off to run some errands.

When I finally made it home I was pooped and took a long nap. Finally I roused myself and headed to Serina's house for a late night movie with her and Gigi. We chose "The Men Who Stare at Goats" and laughed so hard, it was really funny! Plus it had George Clooney and aside from the eye candy factor, he has turned into a fantastic actor. After the movie Serina and I talked until after 1:00 am, way too late for both of us but something I've missed.

Day 4~Massage used to be a dirty word to me. I just cannot stomach someone I don't know rubbing oil or lotion on my naked body. Ewwww!!! It's just a little too intimate for my taste. And when their hands make their way to my neck, well it's all I can do to not scream out in terror, certain that I will be strangled. (Yes, I have issues.....) So why on God's green earth did I opt for a massage? Well, I was hoping to relax. Too much anxiety in my life lately has taken a toll on my health and I needed to find better ways to cope.

Well, thanks to Groupon.com (check it out, you'll love the deals) I learned about Fijian Barefoot Massage and was able to purchase 2 for the price of 1. Better yet, I could stay clothed and there would be no oil or lotion involved, just a nice lady's feet. Now I know it sounds weird, and I was extremely skeptical, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I entered the dimly lit room and laid on the mat while Jeni cleaned her feet and turned up the ocean waves CD. In no time I was relaxing as she was using her feet to literally walk all over me.

I loved it so much that I booked 2 more sessions, a 90-minute from my boss and the remaining 60-minute massage I had pre-purchased. I can hardly wait for how good I'll feel after!!

Here's the link: http://heelingsole.com/index.html

Diary of a Staycation~Day 2

Day 2~Ah sleep. Thanks to our busy day on Friday Zeus was tired and slept in until 9:00 am on Saturday. I was one VERY happy dog owner!!!! The rest of the day was filled with naps, movies and a short walk before I began getting ready for my birthday party.

Now I will be honest and admit that after weeks of anticipation, I was more than a little nervous, mostly because I find it so awkward to be the center of attention. Gives me the heebie-geebies. So as dorky as it was I actually prayed that I could relax and enjoy the night. And I was able to, with the help of three of Lane's lemon drops! ☺

But I really had no reason to worry because FOR THE RECORD: I have the BEST friends in the entire world. Stephanie and Serina poured their hearts and souls into throwing me a small, intimate 40th birthday party that I would never forget. I was humbled by all of the time, energy and money they spent on me!

Persian food, gorgeous flower arrangements, an Eiffel Tower cake (well, sort of!), a DVD chronicling my life, a surprise phone call with Laurie who got up at 2:00 am German time to talk to me (!), an "Archeology Game" geared to see how well everyone knew me, and a phone-a-friend call to Rhonda to verify the answer. It was special, it was fun and I was overwhelmed with love from people who have known me 20 years to those who have only known me a few.

Thank you to ALL of my friends, even those who were not at my party. My life is richer because of my friendships. I've learned how to love better, judge less and enjoy more because of you. Thank you, thank you, thank you for allowing me to be a part of your lives!!! I LOVE YOU!!!

Diary of a Staycation~Day 1

I always thought I'd celebrate my 40th birthday in Europe, but as is the case with most of my dreams, it was not meant to be. No exotic vacation in a foreign locale. Nope, instead last Friday I began an extended "staycation" with the goal of resting, relaxing and healing this suddenly old body!

So here are some of the things that have been keeping me busy:

Day 1 ~ I did not accomplish any of my stated goals. I was on the move early and after dropping Zeus off at my parents' house I took my car in for a 4-hour oil change/recall repair. The dealer rented a car for me so I could run my errands, but would only rent another Toyota. Would you believe that the Enterprise Rental Car next door was fresh out of Toyotas? ☺ But not to worry, the chatty clerk located a Toyota on WW White and proceeded to drive me to that location to pick up the car.

As I drove off in my rented Corolla I promptly.........got lost. Surprise, surprise! For those of you as unfamiliar with the area as I, let's just say that it's not exactly welcoming. In fact, it can be downright scary, especially if you get lost. I was almost downtown before I realized that I was headed the wrong way. But I didn't panic, I'm so used to getting lost that I've trained myself to laugh, turn up the radio and turn the car around!

After finding my way I refinanced my car before paying the nice lady at Forum Nails to change my toenail polish. Next I ended up at the mall, purchased some new clothes and spontaneously decided to get my face "threaded". If you've never seen it, check out this video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jnd83vwhUA0 To be honest it hurt terribly, but my face is now as smooth as a baby's bottom and my eyebrows look smokin' hot. Okay, not really, but they do look groomed, which is better than how they looked before!

I wrapped up my day by eating some pretty bad Chinese food at the mall and picking up my newly serviced and repaired Camry. (So happy I bought the Camry instead of the Corolla!) I arrived at my parents' house to a very excited puppy and hung out with my nephews before we made a dinner delivery to my dad who was working late at the park.

It was after dark when I arrived home and although I didn't exactly rest or relax, I did accomplish a lot of "business" which freed me up to enjoy the next 11 days. It was fun to see my family and hang out with my talkative nephew (the older one is too cool to talk to me for long), all in all it was a productive day and my dog was so tired he went right to sleep when we got home!

Observations From The Top Of The Hill

►I now qualify for that creepy "end of life" insurance
♥ I'm considering a move to "Cougar Town"
→Mammograms are mandatory - squish, squish!
☺I look MUCH worse but I care MUCH less.... :-)
→↓ I still feel 26.....
....until I look in the mirror, sigh
→↓ Single at 40 is harder AND easier than single at 26....
....but I never get carded anymore
►Acne? Seriously?
→I often hurt myself by the sheer act of........SLEEPING
►Retirement planning suddenly seems much more important
→Life before computers, Internet, DVDs, cell phones, iPods, texting and TIVO was less complicated
☺Under eye concealer is my friend
•Migraines are not my friend
►I watched MTV kill the radio star when I was 11
→↓ I don't really care so much anymore about what others think of me......
.....as a result self-confidence is much easier to embrace
☺I'm worth the occasional pedicure
►Gray hair is more wiry than black hair
♥ Innocence is beautiful
☼Beauty is innocence
→One piece of quality clothing beats five pieces from Wal-Mart
►Fresh flowers are worth every, single penny
☺Money is no object when it comes to comfortable shoes, even if they're ugly!
→ Travel really does broaden your horizons
►Honest faith is better than religious perfection
♥ I know that my redeemer lives....
♥♥ I know that I am loved ♥♥

One Block At A Time

This week I had my (hopefully) final appointment with my foot doctor, aka podiatrist. Ugh, just admitting that I see a "podiatrist" makes me feel old! But I digress, the point of my visit was to determine when I would finally be free of my cast, affectionately nick-named Frankenfoot. After 3 months I am more than ready to wear normal shoes again. I'm also eager to start exercising, I miss my long neighborhood walks and it has been especially difficult to sit inside this week with temps in the 70s.

So here's the verdict: I can slowly begin weaning myself out of the cast beginning with 1 hour of freedom the first day, then 2 hours the next day, 3 hours the day after and so on. Dr. G also gave me the go ahead to begin taking my daily walks if I'm pain-free after wearing real shoes full time. I was so excited, until he told me to start by walking only one block.

What???? ONE BLOCK?!?! Seriously? I wondered if he was joking but no, he wasn't. He was very clear that if I overdid it again I would end up back in the cast. One block for a few days, then 2 blocks for a few days, then 3 blocks and so on.

I don't know why the healing process is so slow. All I know is I can only go one block at a time if I want my foot to heal properly. One block at a time to strengthen the muscle, increase flexibility and build stamina. One block.

It seems like most of the healing we desire is slow and tedious. Very few of us find instantaneous healing for whatever ails us.

Community healing comes from rebuilding dilapidated buildings one brick at a time. It comes from rebuilding tense race relations one friendship at a time. It comes from rebuilding the economy one job at a time.

Relational healing comes from one conversation at a time. It comes from building trust one action at a time. It comes from being known one story at a time.

Spiritual healing comes from one gut-wrenching prayer at a time. It comes from one display of grace at a time. It comes from one moment of worship at a time.

Emotional healing comes from one tiny step of acceptance at a time. It comes from one tear at a time.

But eventually healing comes, no matter how painful the process. It comes. Now if you'll excuse me I need to prop up my throbbing foot, I walked more than one block today. Oops! ;-)

Pat Robertson Does Not Represent Me!

I saw the news alert yesterday afternoon. A 7.0 magnitude earthquake in Haiti, far, far away from my cozy office in Stone Oak. I was too busy at work to take the time to check into the story further, but once I did I was stunned. I'm always overwhelmed at the damage an earthquake can cause, especially in such a short amount of time. I understood President Obama's sentiment when he made the following comment in his statement earlier today:

"for a country and a people who are no strangers to hardship and suffering, this tragedy seems especially cruel and incomprehensible."

Many people who walk in much more conservative circles than I have voiced their disbelief that our President would categorize this disaster as cruel. Others, like Pat Robertson, immediately looked to blame the very people who have literally crumbled under the weight of this disaster. And it makes me angry and ashamed to be so horribly represented by those who share my faith.

This is a time for action, not semantics and theology lessons. I am fairly convinced that during his earthly ministry Jesus would have immediately responded with love AND action. He would not have stopped to consider if the words used to describe such incomprehensible devastation were appropriate, because ultimately there are no words that can describe the physical and emotional devastation that occurred. He would have understood that the suffering feels cruel to those in the middle of it. Neither do I believe that he would have tried to claim that a "pact with the devil" cursed millions of people and led to a natural disaster in the poorest nation in our hemisphere.

As a Christian, I am commanded to follow the example of Christ. Period. Politics and theology are better served in a different time and place. Although I cannot travel to the site of the disaster I can give money and supplies to the reputable charities tasked with providing aid. Please, if you have the means consider making a monetary donation. If you believe in the power of prayer, please offer your prayers, laments or groans to the one who can make something beautiful from the ashes.

Here are a few of my favorite charities:

http://www.compassion.com/

http://www.samaritanspurse.org/

Arrivederci

I really wanted to write a positive, hopeful post full of sage advice and achievable yet lofty goals, but then I remembered that there is precious little wisdom floating around in my stream of consciousness. And lofty goals? I gave those up after I failed to meet ANY of them in the past decade. Besides, when I TRY to write something meaningful it usually falls into the "what the heck is wrong with that girl?" category, so why bother?

Here's the truth, right now I'm sad because in saying goodbye to the first decade of the 21st century, I'll soon be saying goodbye to my 30s. It's not that turning 40 is all that upsetting - aging IS the goal - and I don't have a death wish. No, it's not the number that bothers me it's not having what I thought I would have by the time that number defined me.

Have you ever heard the saying, "When God closes a door He opens a window"? I guess that's true, except when it isn't. He not only closed the door to my dreams He proceeded to put bars and blackout shades on the windows. And let me tell you, that glass is shatter-proof. The only thing that shattered when I tried to break it was my heart.

Instead of love and marriage and the baby carriage I have, um, well, hm. Oh, oh, oh I have a job and a puppy and a new car!!! All things I love and need, ALL things for which I thank God humbly and frequently, but none of them are the deepest desires of my heart. Don't get me wrong, I do love my job (mostly), and I have amazing friends and many family members close by, but I still live my life in isolation. And my puppy is adorable, affectionate and fun, but he fails to give me the kind of companionship and intelligent conversation I crave. Plus his kisses don't really do it for me, aside from the fact that he isn't human HE EATS HIS OWN POOP. Enough said. To top it off I never did finish college and make something of myself. I just settled into a middle class, dull life that affords me a new car every 10 years or so mixed in with the occasional travel adventure so I don't die of boredom. I've got mediocrity instead of passion and purpose. I often look at my life and wonder, "What's the point?"

This is the spot in the post where I should wrap everything up with a nice little bow. Insert an encouraging Bible verse. Write about how God only has my best interests at heart. State that I'm okay because He's all I need. Sigh. I guess I just don't know how to believe that in this moment of grief. And that's okay. I'm pretty sure that God is much more likely to show himself when I get brutally honest and admit my despair. So off I go to try to figure out how to "do" this life I didn't plan.

I'll end with a link to a blog post that made me laugh until I cried today. The comments are funnier than the blog, and I'm tickled pink that my own comment made an appearance early on. Enjoy!

http://stuffchristianslike.net/2010/01/being-single-during-christmas-at-church/#idc-cover

P.S. - Happy New Year!