Different Strokes

I love my sister. We are two completely different people, raised in two different families with two different life experiences. That's not typical for sisters. Normally you're raised together with the same parents, same values, same expectations of life. But being that we were given away for adoption as babies, our lives took totally different paths and we are just beginning to unravel and appreciate those differences in making us who we both are as adults today.

My sister was sexually abused growing up and continues to battle with depression. She goes to therapy every week and takes prescriptions to help her get through her dark times. I dealt with emotional and psychological abuse from my mother, and still do, though she'll flat out deny it if you confront her. I've tried many different ways to come to terms with the damage she's done and part of the fact that she doesn't acknowledge her wrong doing has made it even harder to forgive and forget. But, that is what I am called to do as a Christian, so I pray and give it to God. Some days are better than others, but that's true for everyone, right?

My sister thinks I should see a therapist. She seems to think everyone needs to see a therapist. That works for her and it's wonderful. I'm happy for her that she has that outlet. I'm not a therapy kind of person. Talking to a stranger who's not walked in my shoes seems senseless. I don't care how many college degrees they have hanging on the wall, they really can't understand my life if they haven't lived it. And it seems the answer they want to slap on every issue is to dish out anti-depressants. I've been down that route befpre and pills are not my fix-all.

To me, God is my therapist and prayer my prescription. If anyone knows my heart, it's God. If anyone can heal my heart, again, it would be God. Not another imperfect human sitting on the chair across from me, handing me a box of tissues and refilling my Prozac. (Haha--I keep flashing on the Geico commercial--Yellow makes me sad...You know what makes me sad? YOU DO!! Michael and I would play that one over and over on the DVR busting a gut...The only commercial I'd actually stop to watch...but, I digress...) Not to poo-poo the whole therapy thing--if it works for you, great. It's simply not for me.

Anyway, this all came up yesterday on the phone. She thought I was upset about deciding not to contact our aunt or younger sister, but I'm not. I truly have peace with that. I've lived my whole life without them and have done so quite happily. I have no doubt that the remainder of my life will be just as happy. You can't miss what you never had, right? Not a big deal. Affording Christmas, the possibility of moving, these things are weighing more heavily on the plate. So, I give it up to God and pray for His will in His time and appreciate my daily bread. Life is good.

I lift my eyes up to the hills-

Where does my help come from?

My help comes from the LORD,

the Maker of heaven and earth.

~Psalm 121:1-2

Today's Lesson

As much fun as it might be to Zumba to 'Linus and Lucy' while making chili for dinner, I don't really recommend it. As I Zumba'd across the kitchen floor, shaking and swaying to a sassy Salsa step, the can of black beans I'd propped in the electric can opener finished its orbit and promptly dumped into the open silverware drawer below. Black bean juice splattered the wall and pantry door and puddled on the floor. Sweet Pea was quick (for a Basset) to lend a hand, or rather a tongue, to help clean up my mess, lapping away at the grey juice that trickled down the cabinet front. I dumped out the silverware tray and washed all the forks, and knives (fortunately the spoons had been spared), scooped a pile of beans from the drawer and gave it a good wiping, swabbed the wall, cabinet, and pantry door while Sweet Pea endeavored to lick the floor clean. Poor thing ended up with black bean juice all over her ears-yuck! Ah well, better a few calories burned than none at all. And fortunately there were plenty more beans going into the chili, so the few that spilled shouldn't even be missed. That silverware tray was overdue for a cleaning anyway. All's well that ends well...

I don't know where my day has gotten to. It's almost two in the afternoon and I've barely made a dent in the laundry, beds are still stripped bare, and I've not dusted a thing! I thought I was off to such a great start: breakfast parfait at six, run on the treadmill at seven, even in the shower, dressed and ready to drop Bug off at school before scooting to Walmart and Aldi's for the week's groceries...then it all kinda just went off the radar from there. Next thing I knew it was lunchtime, then had to toss the chili in the crockpot (and down the kitchen wall), more laundry, and knew I better sit and blog before the day was completely out the window! My To-Do List still waits, looking at me sarcastically, wondering when I might get around to scratching a few things off...I might just have to make it wait a little while longer for having such a poor attitude! After all, who's the boss here? Huh?

I applied to be a Child Ambassador for World Vision (um, there's a couple of you who might be getting phone calls to verify I'm not some chili wall throwing psycho nut case--Tom and Diane...cover for me??) I don't know what all that entails, other than organizing a day at church to talk about child sponsorship and trying to recruit sponsors, but something made me fill out the application. Why not? Maybe this is what I'm meant to do (again, Bill shaking his head, sighing...I'm so thankful he loves me...I love you, dear!!) After all, Target didn't want me...Who knows. Whatever's meant to be will be, right?

All right, I really should get going. If it so moves you today, click on over to World Vision and take a look around their website. You might just find a child who needs you, or another way to help if you can...even if it's just to pray for a child waiting on their site. It could make all the difference in the world.

At an Impasse

I've got this notion rattling around in my head (insert husband's sigh and shaking of head...muttering ,"Now what?" under his breath...) My birthmother, aunt, and younger sister are all on Facebook. I pull up their pages, stalker-like, looking for pictures, faces that resemble mine, or status updates that let me into their lives, however vicariously. Curious.

What is it that stops me from contacting them? My birthmother, well, she doesn't want to know me, so I wouldn't bother wasting my time on her. But my sister? My aunt? Don't I have the right to know them? I do...but do they want to know me, my other sister? And there's always that adage again: be careful what you wish for...Do I really want to open that Pandora's box? Some days I do--toss whatever fear or caution to the wind, and just post a message on their page, let the cards fall where they may. Other days, I shrink back...afraid of what that box might hold after all. Just be thankful for what I've been given with my sister, brother, and uncle and their families. They're a great gift, greater than I ever thought I'd have of my birth family. It's just this puzzle beckons to be completed, odd pieces put in place, to see the whole of what's been torn apart, perhaps allow healing. If that would ever be possible with Charlotte so adamant against reunion. But who made her queen? What gives her the right to control the entire family and say who's 'allowed in' or not? As if Andrea and I aren't worthy on some level. Worthy? Rebellious child inside me balks, angry and resentful. She gave me away, signed away her rights to tell me what to do or not to do. Why should I let her stop me now?

This quote, from a writing prompt site, turned up in my inbox this morning: “We are always getting ready to live, but never living.” ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson. That applies to my life on so many levels. All the writing practice, but never publishing. Computer studying, but for what? Wanting my family, but not willing to take a chance on what might be waiting in response. You only get so many opportunities in life and they don't wait around forever. Life does pass us by if we don't step out and live it. Who will win? Charlotte? Fear? Or me?

A Little Perspective

I have a few problems this morning. I've not been sleeping well this past week with the time change. I wake up in the middle of the night and can't get back to sleep. I drag bone weary through the remainder of the day. Then, my cell phone died. I can't text anybody and Michael busted his 300 series finally at bowling--blew it out of the water at 320! I had to borrow my friend's phone to text hubby the news. And the leaves!! I've raked and raked and raked and after I thought I was finished, I look out only to see the yard covered in another brown blanket of more fallen leaves...ugh! They're still falling!!

Really? These are problems? I can't sleep but I have a warm bed to curl up in at night and half a dozen cute fuzzy blankets to wrap around me with snowmen and snowflakes and Santa with his reindeer...I have a roof over my head and a furnace that churns warm toasty air through every room in my house. Oh, and don't forget the stack of books piled up on the nightstand--the problem there? Which one to read tonight...gosh.

My cell phone died. Never mind my tablet runs just fine--games and Facebook, Weatherbug and email all at the tap of a finger...I can easily message anyone for now until I get the phone situation fixed later today. And there's always the house phone. Still...such an inconvenience. Poor me.

And the nerve of those leaves!! I've busted my back raking day after day, bagging and hauling and dumping them over the fence...The fence. That surrounds our yard. Behind our house. Our house cooled and protected by all those trees with the leaves that keep falling...where I hang birdfeeders and suet and complain because the squirrels steal the seed faster than you can bat an eye.

I've been following a blog this week about a mission trip to Ecuador. My uncle posts pictures of his trips to Nicaragua. I see what real struggles are, read heart rending stories of families praying for sponsors to help them provide food and medical care for their children. Sponsored children get three meals a week. Three. Meals. A week...a week...My cupboards overflow with PopTarts and cereal, buns and bread and pitas so I can have my choice.  Big brown eyes with round empty tummies, mothers' hearts breaking, and I can have my choice. Children growing up in dumps, living in squalor--cardboard and plastic sheeting strapped together, slopped in mud, to make a home. A home! Filth like I've never known in my life. Poverty eating the hopes and dreams of precious little hearts.

Who am I? Who am I that I have been blessed with so much? What have I done to deserve all that I have been given? My child has never missed a meal--he may not have wanted to eat what was put on his plate, but there has always been food. His dresser drawers need shoved closed because they're so full. When he runs a fever, the doctor is a phone call away (even if the cell phone isn't working and I have to call on the house phone...) I have a medicine cabinet full of Tylenol and Pepto and Triaminic Cough Strips. I can zip to the store and buy ginger ale and crackers and chicken soup. I don't even think twice about it. I'm blind to how easy my life really is.

My problems? Not problems. Eye openers to blessings. Gateway to gratitude. There's a little boy on the other side of the world who I am blessed to help. I think how little I can actually do for him in the midst of all that I have and it doesn't make sense. Why--why have I been given so much and him so little? My problems? Not problems. I am humbled and grateful and hopefully more aware of all that I have been given and all that I can do and give in return.

Another Too Early Start

These dogs are going to be the death of me. I was fast asleep and dreaming, no doubt I could've stayed fast asleep and dreaming had Sweet Pea not barged in the room at three o'clock and started her incessant whining. Really? I shooed her out of the room and shut the door behind her. Too late. Tucker was up and wanted out. Someone shoot me...please! The thought occurred to me then that it might possibly be snowing-the overnight forecast said we had a fifty percent chance of snow. So, fine, I dragged my weary self out of bed, tugged on slippers and pulled my robe from the hook on the back of the bathroom door, sludged my way to the porch door to let Pain in the Butts #'s 1 and 2 outside, looked up at the frozen dark sky...nothing. Not so much as a flake or flurry. Fantastic. Slid back inside to the kitchen and turned the coffee pot on while I went scrounging for my morning materials: Bible, journal, laptop. Sigh...another long day...

It would be great if I was cognizant enough at three a.m. to actually do something productive, but no one is cognizant enough for any serious thought at so early in the day, er, night...I mostly space out, brain frozen like the sky, not even a flake of thought fluttering about, nothing getting in, nothing getting out. Even coffee has trouble penetrating...it just hurts, physically hurts, being awake in the dark. I'm tired! This is not productive time for me and non-productive time is wasted time which in turn creates cranky time, very much a downward spiral for the day.

Three hours later I'm finally capable of doing something. I've finished my reading and journaling, perused several blogs and jammed a few more ideas into my head of things I want to do (oh, that list is frightening!), filled out menus for the weekend and corresponding grocery list, checked the Butler calendar for adventures to fill the day since dear sweet child o'mine (to be read slightly sarcastically as he's been up arguing with me for a while now...ugh!) is home from school for Veterans Day and a bored whiny child does not mix well with a tired cranky mom so Distractions! are the key for the day. Oatmeal is simmering on the stove and Zumba follows shortly thereafter...maybe. Skipped the workout yesterday from feeling like a squashed roadkill squirrel...today's not feeling much better. We'll see on that mark.

I think we are heading to Portersville today to check out a Christmas Open House at Nicolette's Tailor and Gift Shop. I have no idea where Portersville is, the map shows it close to McConnell's Mill and Moraine--two of my favorite places here, so even if Nicolette's bombs, we're right smack close to something cool anyway. I'm just a sucker for groovy little gift shops and Christmas Open Houses...nothing like sparking the spirit a little early! (Sticking tongue out at all the early Christmas scrooges!) (Okay...that's from being up too early today...sorry)

So, to all the veterans and those currently serving our country at home and overseas, I offer a huge thank you for your service and sacrifice that allows the rest of us to sleep (albeit however shortly) peacefully in warm beds at night and enjoy all the freedoms we so readily take for granted.

"Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends."

~John 15:13

A verse doodle I did yesterday--not crazy about the bottom flower, but it can only get better with practice...

A Gift of Love

I wanted to make a little bookmark or something to send Kiran, the little boy I sponsor through World Vision. You’re allowed to send the kids small, flat things in the mail: pictures, postcards, bookmarks, stickers, etc. And  I’ve started this prayer doodling thing, so I thought I’d do a prayer doodle of his name with a hand and foot, as the first suggested prayer World Vision gives to sponsors is to “let me be the hands and feet of Christ to help provide a path to a better life through His love.” I always thought there was an actual Scripture that referenced the hands and feet of Christ, but I discovered there isn’t—it’s from a Catholic prayer, adapted from Scripture about the body of Christ. So that kinda through me for a loop since I wanted to reference the actual verse. Then I looked up the meaning of Kiran’s name which is ‘ray of light’ and that really touched me. I thought Kiran is a ray of Christ’s light in my life, shining love and hope into my heart. You think it’s the other way around-what we’re doing for them, but really it’s the opposite. I look at his picture-this sweet boy with those big brown eyes and my heart melts. I whisper prayers of God’s love and peace for him, for me, worlds apart yet joined in this love, this opportunity to be the body of Christ. Now what to draw for him? I’m thinking a lighthouse with the verse from Matthew 5:14-16, “You are the light of the world…Let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven.” I wish I knew how to translate it to his language-if I knew what language he speaks…Hindi? I tried the Google translator but I’m afraid it won’t be right and I’ll have said something wrong. I’ll just leave it to the interpreters on that end to translate it for Kiran and hope he understands the love I send with it.

On the Other Side of the Wall

I like Tuesdays. I usually don't have to be anywhere. My weekly shopping is typically done on Monday so I don't worry about hair and make up as I don't plan to see anyone other than Bill and Michael and the critters. It's an easy day: workout, shower, chores, and plenty of time to work on something productive, ie: writing, computer studies, that sort of thing.

Yesterday morning went quick and smooth. I finished up the day's chores and even managed a good hour of leaf raking before it was time for lunch. I had all afternoon to myself (with no TV calling me to lounge away the time!) I washed up the morning's sinkful of dishes, pulled out the laptop and decided I'd look for a writing contest I could maybe try to enter.

That was probably the wrong place to start. I've only been blogging for a couple months, I haven't even given thought to any 'real' writing (like I know what that means...) So when I pulled up the list of writing contests on Writermag's website it felt like someone had punched me in the gut--what was I thinking? I had nothing to offer on a professional writing level. Okay, do 'professionals' really submit to writing contests? I would think it's primarily amateurs, but still...I'm hardly even an amateur-I'm a beginning beginner. I don't even know where to start! I felt completely intimidated, overwhelmed, and discouraged. I closed the browser and opted to pull out my Office Word 2007 book and work on learning more about tabs, inserts, shading and borders. No writing for me.

As the afternoon wore on, I started thinking about maybe heading back out into the real world, giving up and getting a job. Who was I kidding--me, write? I felt maybe this opportunity had passed me up. I'm not destined to be anybody, just a mom, a wife, a minimum wage paid cashier-if I could even manage that. Target had sent me an email in response to the application I had put in a couple weeks ago: "We are sorry to inform you that we are unable to offer you a position at this time. Thank you for your interest in Target." I had applied for a part/part-time position, thinking the holidays are coming up, a little extra cash couldn't hurt. I can't work much, only during Michael's school schedule, so no evenings or weekends. I only wanted two or three days a week at most. But, no, that wouldn't work for Target. Thanks anyways. Whatever.

I swept my defeated attitude under the dog hair covered rug and finished the day. Picked up Michael from the bus, supervised homework, microwaved veggie burgers and baked beans for dinner, crocheted a little on the sweater I'm making for World Vision's Knit for a Kid program, and dragged my time change weary butt to bed while Bug stayed up, played his PSP and watched Spongebob until Daddy would get home and sent his little body to bed as well. Tomorrow was another day...

It's moments like this where I'm left wondering about what direction my life is meant to take, which way does God want me to go, that He speaks to me (thank goodness or I'd really be a mess!) This morning it was through one of the daily blogs I read-(in)Courage.me. You can read the day's post here: http://www.incourage.me/2011/11/never-too-late-for-joy.html I shed a few tears, refreshed with His hope, encouragement and love. Maybe I can write, maybe it's not too late. At least I'm not ready to give up just yet...

Something New

I've been wanting to begin memorizing Scripture for at least a couple of years now. There's a handful verses I know by heart, but I'd really like to learn more, much more. I'm so impressed with reading some of these daily blogs about families who read Scripture over dinner and memorize verses together. It's such an incredible gift to share with your children and to bond your family together in God's Word. So I've decided to recruit Michael to be my memorization buddy and I think he's as excited about it as I am.

I surfed for a website with a good set of Scriptures to start with and finally came across Fighter Verses. They have a full five year plan of weekly verses to memorize as well as iPhone and Android apps to download (both free and paid) to send a weekly verse straight to your phone or mobile device. I decided to start the five year plan with Michael and will do the extra verse on my tablet myself. They also list great suggestions to help kids memorize their verses and one that really grabbed my attention was to learn the Scripture in sign language. I taught Michael sign language as a baby since he didn't actually start talking until after he was three years old. He picked up signing in a flash but once he was speaking on his own, we left the sign language behind, forgotten. How much fun would it be to learn all over again, this time incorporating God's Word!

So this morning I scrambled the web looking to find a good ASL site and found ASLpro. It has video signing dictionaries-both basic and a religious dictionary, as well as common phrase signs. Brilliant! Our verse this week in Deuteronomy 7:9 "Know therefore that the LORD your God is God, the faithful God who keeps covenant and steadfast love with those who love him and keep his commandments, to a thousand generations," I found the signs for each word of the verse and practiced them until I had it down pat. I can't wait to show Michael! Learning the signs I think actually made remembering the verse a whole lot easier since you almost have to mentally visualize the signs that go along with it. So cool. Two gifts in one: memorizing Scripture with Michael and learning sign language together again! I love it!

Christmas Bust

I've been tucking away Christmas gifts for a few months now. I have a stash, well, had a stash, up on the top shelf of the hallway linen closet. Way out of Michael's nosy reach. Or so I thought. The shelf had been a great hiding place for the past year since we'd moved in. It's pretty high up so a good glance from the kiddo wouldn't reveal anything I'd tucked away up there. When I'd ground him from specific toys: cars, his DS, radio, whatever-it would go up on the shelf until the grounding was over because I knew it'd be safe from any attempts on his part at retrieval. He never even knew anything was up there. So, come Christmas shopping last year, I would just stuff the bags up on the shelf until it was time to do the wrapping. Then I'd have to move the packages either to my closet or down in the basement for more strategic camoflage. I could bury packages under clothes and purses in my closet, or tuck them behind the still unpacked boxes of miscellaneous knick knacks that had been abandoned after the move. It was perfect. He never saw anything and Santa's stellar reputation remained in tact.

Shopping away, I'd had a few presents and a bag of stocking stuffers hidden up on the shelf in the hallway closet. I'd also stored some extra school supplies in there, trying to keep them out of Michael's busy hands. I thought if he'd need more pens or notebooks or erasers halfway through the year, we'd be in good shape. All was well and good until Mr. Nebby Nose somehow got it into his head to investigate this top shelf way up out of his reach. Independence can be a great thing to instill in kids until it comes down to helping himself into places he shouldn't be digging around in!

"Mom! I found some Gogo's in the hall closet! Are they for me?" Excitement and glee exuding from his voice at this new found treasure stash! My heart stopped for a second or two then raced sickeningly as realization dawned on me that he discovered my Christmas hiding place! Now what?? How to cover my tracks and explain why there were Gogo's in the closet? I was busted...I had no choice but to give him the booty.

"Oh, I was going to surprise you with those and now you found them yourself!" Trying not to sound too suspicious, but not happy that the little bugger had forced my hand. I tried my best to be casual, cool, calm..."What else did you find up there?" Trying to calculate a quick inventory of everything I had bought and stuffed away for wrapping days...fortunately I hadn't bought any other little goodies for Michael yet. More grown up gifts remained hidden, still bundled in the store bags I'd brought them home in. Whew!

"Nothing. Can I have the Gogo's?" Careless, oblivious, completely unknowing he could've uncovered so much more.

I sighed as I relented and let him have the little toys. I figured I could grab another pack at Walmart later on for his stocking. I've had to rethink my hiding places now. Big boxes hide packages in the bedroom, buried under out of season clothes. And there's still the basement. Dark down there, he can't reach the light in the laundry area. Good. That'll still work. Finally safe to go back to the stores again and recommence Christmas shopping...Santa strikes again!



Finding Time

I've decided to give up TV. I kept looking at the list of things I want and need to do every day and week, thinking, 'When?' When could I possibly find the time to do all of these things? I already get up early to have personal time to accomplish things that I can't typically do during the chaos and distractions of the day. I've been staying up a little later trying to get in more reading time, only to find myself tired the next day and unwilling to try to add a little more into an already packed day. How to find more time then? I started thinking about my TV time. All the reality shows I watch are completely irrelevant to my life: Project Runway, America's Next Top Model, Top Chef, Next Great Work of Art, now Project Accessory--really?? None of these shows have anything to contribute to the direction I want to take my life. Cooking shows just make me want to eat and gain weight (counter active to trying to stay fit), super skinny model shows make me hate the way my middle aged body looks (discouraging even after all the time I put in to working out and eating healthy), and as much as I love Tim and Heidi and Swatch, I really don't need to watch the ridiculous drama unfolding every week on the runway and I certainly don't care about accessories. Gone. And Greys...the show only makes me aggravated anymore. They're dying all the guys blond--did you notice McSteamy last week? Who's next, Derek? I'm over it. My life won't change if they manage to get Zola back, or if Alex finally becomes human, and I just can't take watching Christina and Owen anymore. Gone.

Now I have time! Reading, writing, studying, Christmas planning time without worrying about how many shows I have on the dvr that I need to catch up on, stuffing my listless face lounging on the couch in front of the TV. I'm excited! Now, it's not 100% gone. After all, ABCFamily's 25 Days of Christmas will soon be on and I'll saddle up for my favorite classic reruns and movies. And I decided not to give up the two shows we watch as a family-Big Bang Theory (I love Sheldon!) and the new series Grimm. But, eliminating all the others frees up a huge chunk of time which should be a great start for me. Now let's see what I can manage to accomplish with that gift!

Giggles in the Dark

I can hear them down the hall. Michael smirking back a laugh, half giggling through his nose trying to be quiet in the early morning. Tucker, noisier, wiggling in and out from under the bed. He's really too big to get under the bed anymore but that doesn't stop him. He'll squeeze himself under, then cry when he can't get back out again. I have to get him to lay on his side and slide him out skinny-wise, pink tongue kissing thankfulness all over my face, stumpy tail butt wagging at freedom. Back under the bed he scrambles...It's tempting to leave him under there, maybe he'd learn not to get under if he can't get back out on his own. But I always save him, so why not.

Maybe that's part of where I go wrong with Michael. I always save him. It hurts to watch him learning painful lessons, even though I know it's essential to life. I need to step back, hard as it is breaking this mama's heart, and let him fall and learn to pick himself up, not slide him out skinny-wise when he's found himself in a tough spot of his own choosing. I somehow have to learn to harden my soft mama heart against pathetic, sad puppy cries and little boy growing pains, knowing the sooner they begin to learn life lessons aren't always going to get fixed by someone else, then maybe they'll learn to better avoid these traps that trip before the traps are to big to be fixed by Mama...Funny how their lessons somehow become our lessons first.

Two wild wiggle worms under my bed

My Christmas Cactus in mad bloom for the fourth year in a row-I love this plant!

Baby from the mama Christmas Cactus, transplanted last spring, first bloom--love it!

Praying in Color

I stumbled across an interesting book and website this morning while bebopping through some links on other sites. I went from Holy Experience to Mama Monk's blog which led me to look for a book on the Benedictine Rule on Amazon and after loading a few books into my shopping cart (don't worry Bill, I'm not actually buying any of them...yet...Oh how well you know me!) Somehow from Benedictine books, I found myself looking at some art and creativity books and one titled Praying in Color by Sybil MacBeth really caught my eye. Realizing this is not the best time to be buying books with bills from kidney stone surgery now coming in on top of looming Christmas shopping, I decided to download samples to my Kindle for the time being and leave the actual books waiting on my wish list instead. Praying for Color wasn't available for the Kindle, so I took a quick look at the sneak peek of the few pages Amazon would allow, and realized I didn't need to actually buy the book (sorry Sybil) The gist is simple. You have a name or names of people you want to pray for, or a subject such as hurricane victims, or the names of God, or even a scripture you'd like to memorize. You start with a simple shape or write the name(s) out and begin to doodle other shapes from there. Add some colored pens to brighten the page and viola! You've just doodled a prayer. I'm sure there's a lot more to the book than that, but if it'll save me from spending $12 I don't need to right now, I'm happy to make a quick start from there and run with it on my own! You can check out Sybil's website and her prayer doodling here: http://www.prayingincolor.com Maybe it'll inspire you to break out your colored pens and paper and doodle a prayer or two. It's also a great idea to get kids praying-you can hang finished prayer doodle art work on the fridge for a quick reminder of those on your prayer list or a refresher of the scripture you're working on memorizing. Give it a try! I'd love to see what you come up with if you want to post links to your doodles here!

These are some of Sybil's doodles:

Black Friday

Now that we're well on our way into November, Christmas shopping season is truly upon us. I'm contemplating whether or not I want to join the consumer chaos of Black Friday again this year. Bug and I went out last year for our very first Black Friday adventure and I was overwhelmed, to say the least, at what we encountered so early in the still dark day.

As much I love Walmart, I try to get in and out of there by ten-thirty in the morning. Any later than that and the store is ridiculously crowded, check out is super slow, and my patience peeters out the window trying to navigate through cart crammed aisles, senior social hour, and cranky cashier service. (I miss our Jason from TN, the super nicest Walmart cashier ever!! They should have him train every cashier employed in that company or somehow find a way to infuse his joy and kindness into the rest of the staff. The world would be a much better place with more of Jason to go around! Anybody from around Oak Ridge, TN reading this, I know you know who I'm talking about--holla!!)

So...take the normal post ten a.m. craziness of Walmart and multiply that by at least fifty and schedule it at three in the morning when no sane human being should be out and about, wallet in hand and ready for bargain battles, and this is pretty much what we found last year as we ventured into Black Friday mania. It's crazy! Every parking space in Butler Commons was full, AND it was raining, freezing cold and miserable. But we braved it all to get Bug his new Nintendo DS that he'd saved his birthday money and allowance for to replace his old one that he'd broken in a temper tantrum over losing at some game he'd been playing. I'd never seen so many people crammed into one place at the same time, especially so so so early in the day! I'm not a fan of crowds. I'm not a fan of anything at three in the morning. I wondered what possibly possessed my brain to think that this was a bright idea as we traipsed through puddles in the downpour, coats clutched at our throats against the cold, and crammed into the crowded huddle of the electronics line that wound its way in and out of the shoe department and waited our turn to grab the DS of Michael's choice. Then after waiting for what seemed like forever (little did we know...) we had to fight our way back up to the front of the store to wait for another eternity at the check out to pay for said DS. Most people were in good moods, laughing and giddy over the sweet deals they had found. Still, there were those few who wanted to try to cut in line, complain over misunderstood ads, grump and push and moan...ugh!

Finally purchase paid and back out into the cold dark night we went. Where to next? We were far too geared up to try to go back home and it was still a little early for some of the other stores to open for their Black Friday morning sales, so where else is there to head other than McDonalds for a quick plate of breakfast and a hot cup of coffee to warm chilled bones and brains? We hung out there for a while, sort of dazed at this new shopping experience. Michael's face was all aglaze over the thought of his brand new shiny DS he had waiting in the car. Other shoppers poured in, sat sipping coffee, eating hashbrowns and egg mcmuffins while waiting for the other stores to open. Little by little we each leaked back out into the night, ready to get in line at another set of doors, hoping to score more bargains while the getting was good.

Bug and I stopped at a few other stores. Honestly we didn't buy much at all compared to the rest of the crowds around us. Tired and sleepy eyed, we finally headed back home as the sun started brightening the early morning sky. The rain had at least stopped even if the temperature hadn't gone up much. Bug was happy with his big purchase and I was happy that he was happy. I was also happy to be getting away from the craziness and heading to my favorite place: home...and coffee and my pillow and blanket....

Do we really want to do that again this year? Bug says an enthusiastic "YES!" Eyes all alight with the thought of spending money, money, money! I have to admit, there is something contagious that caught hold of me last year and I find myself thinking...maybe...Another middle of the night excursion with my little guy with a still dark breakfast at McDonalds over coffee, hot cakes and buttery syrup could be fun. Maybe we'll head to the mall this year instead of Walmart, see what kind of crazy deals we can find just a little past midnight...why not?

Oh look, someone left me some chicken! How thoughtful!

Chasing the Clock

I'm having one of those mornings (and the fact that it is now well after lunch and I'm still stuck in the 'morning' ought to be an indicator of just what a morning it's been...) I woke up late, which set me behind a good hour and a half already. I didn't sleep well, my brain was too busy thinking most of the night. When we stopped at the ATM yesterday to take out the money for Tucker's crate, the transaction receipt showed a much lower account balance than what should have been in there. That set me off for the rest of the day and into my night. I kept recounting the math in my mind, which is not my strong suit in the first place even on the best of days, and I tried to reassure myself there was a simple explanation; there was enough money to see us through the end of the week until payday--after all, what did we need? Milk, chewies for the dogs, and dental floss. Ingredients for dinner were already waiting in the fridge and pantry, lunches packed...Still, my OCD brain was not willing to let this discrepancy go without a fight and a thorough investigation of the account statement to see just where the mix up came from. So I tossed and turned most of the night, fretting subconsciously, then somehow fell asleep enough to oversleep...augh! Not how I needed to start my day!

So, once I got through my morning Bible reading and devotionals (late or not, I'm simply unwilling to compound an already bad start by neglecting the one thing that grounds me in some semblance of peace for the day!) I pulled up the checking account online and looked to see if I could spot any unfamiliar charges or something I might have missed, but nothing really stood out to me. I'd have to wait to check it on the desktop against the register in Quicken. Then, realizing I had two months of statements that I somehow never bothered to reconcile, I set about taking care of that (another good half hour of the morning gone...) and found my discrepancy from sadly two months ago! How I managed not to bounce any checks over that course of time is nothing short of a miracle! Transferred a little from savings to make up the difference and at least wiped that anxiety off the morning's board.

Well, now I'm running two hours behind at this point. Choices stacked up in front of me, which way do I want to take my day? Do I work out and miss the morning Bible study at church or rush through the shower before I had to get Michael to the bus and pray I had enough time to do something with my hair and face before racing like mad to make it to church on time? I don't know about you, but 'racing' through anything in the morning is absolutely my least favorite option. And, I've been so off with my work out schedule the past few weeks from having a broken toe and non-conducive mood swings, add to that facing the giant bowl of Halloween candy in the kitchen every day now, the clear choice would be to eat a healthy breakfast, get Bug to the bus and haul my ever increasing butt to the basement for a couple sets of circuits and a round of Zumba. Then shower, fluff, and a quick trip to my home away from home, Walmart!, before back to feed the birds, let them out for a little play time and hopefully manage to get a handful of chores done and some raking while the weather's still dry....Whew...I'm still trying to catch my breath!

I don't know if I've done myself much of a favor starting this new 'daily habit tracking' chart for November. Today it just feels like added pressure to squeeze in as many accomplishments as I possibly can on top of starting the day frazzled. But, if I can remember it's simply a guideline and not really a requirement, that it's to keep me moving in a positive direction rather than sitting stagnant, then perhaps there's hope. If I can remember to remove fingers from keyboard and fold them in my lap for a moment, closing my eyes and inhale deeply while breathing "Jehovah Shalom" a few times, my racing heart will slow, the knot in my shoulders will loosen, and the corners of my lips curl up in a smile. The Lord is Peace.

A Little Suntan...Spray?

I am not a big fan of the sun, er well, at least not of summer heat. I like things on the cooler side and am thankful for air conditioning come July and August as the temperature and humidity soar outside. And you all know how excited I get when the snow starts to fly! But I'm also not a huge fan of tanning. I was born all pale and pasty. I don't see a reason to try to change that, especially considering the possible consequences: early wrinkles (they show up soon enough without any encouragement!) and worse, skin cancer. Yes, I smoked for twenty-three years and still face the possibility of lung cancer--but I quit over six years ago and do everything in my power to remain healthy. Why invite another form of cancer for the sake of vanity? I don't get why people dish out so much money to lay in tanning beds only to put themselves at risk. So a warm, bronze glow to your cheeks can be flattering to the complexion. Buy a little bronzer. It's cheaper. And non-carcinogenic.

But I drove by a salon the other day that now offers spray tanning. I suppose if I were ever to want a tan, that would most likely be the way I'd go. No heat, no wrinkles, no potential cancer (unless maybe from inhaling the tanning chemicals?) But I'm curious, what does one wear to be spray tanned? Your bathing suit? Doesn't it get all spray tanned too then? Does it come out in the wash? I read it can turn your toe nails orange--now that's attractive. I guess that would be a big hit down in Tennessee's Vols country--go Big Orange! Oh my...

Well, chances are I'll never have this service done anyway. I'm just not the girly-girl mani-pedi, tanning type. I can paint my own nails if I want them done. I don't do massages either. I don't like strangers touching me, especially semi-naked...no thank you! I'd rather spend my money on more tangible things like food or books or Zumba shoes...To each their own, I guess. Isn't that what makes the world go 'round?

Today's Writing Exercise

All right, fidgeting done, all last minute need to do’s are done, there’s nothing else to do but get down to business writing something productive here. At least that’s the plan. I’ve decided from now on, time permitting, that I shall sit down and write some sort of exercise until I become inspired to write something publishable, or work on a piece to send for a competition—something! I’ve done too much of nothing! Then, once I manage to write, I intend to work on my computer books, try to get a little more studying in. No phone calls, emails, Facebooks, games, etc. until the real work is done.

Today’s topic from A Writer’s Book of Days is to write about casting a spell:

Several years ago, in the relationship previous to this, my marriage, I confess I finagled in witchcraft and did actually cast a spell on the boy I was seeing at the time. I truly believe the motto: Be careful what you wish for. Especially in regards to using black magic-honey, it can only turn out bad…Where to begin?

His name was Tom. My sister-in-law had fixed us up on a blind date. The two of them worked together in a grocery store and had been friends since high school. Tom was a funny, energetic guy, kind of cute, all American looking, and not seeing anyone after his last relationship had gone bad.

I was floundering hit or miss in the single world after bailing on my second marriage disaster.  I was seeing two delicious older men-Paul, who lied about being wealthy but he looked like a Richard Gere knock off. Oh gosh, I can’t remember the other one’s name all of a sudden! He was a painter, older than Paul but yummy in a Hubert Keller kind of way. Oh…sexy and divine. Sadly , neither of these relationships held any future promise, fun as they were, and when Cathy suggested a date with Tom, I thought why not?

We fell quickly into dating regularly although, looking back, I don’t really know why, other than perhaps we both wanted something to call a relationship? We had nothing in common. He was an alcoholic and drug addict, faking living a normal life. I really must’ve been grasping at straws. He loved wild parties, drinking and doing coke. I had already had bad experiences with other drug addicts—why I didn’t go running mad in the other direction is beyond me. I refused to get high or drink with him and he got tired of my sobriety. We had an embarrassing fight in the middle of a friend’s party and I decided to call it quits. Or did I? Ridiculously, I wanted him back.

There was this little shop around the corner from where I worked at the time called Hocus Pocus. It was a magic and witchcraft shop with all sorts of candles and spell books, tarot cards and crystals. A couple friends and I would hang out in there at lunch time, browsing books and wasting time. I indulged my curiosity and bought a few spell books. I’d take them home to my little Shadyside apartment (I loved that place!) and peruse spells, whispering this incantation or that, never thinking it’d amount to much. Until Tom and I broke up. Now it was serious.

I found a spell to bring back a lover’s affections. Or at least to torture him until he couldn’t bear to be without you anymore. Candle lit, needle in place, I said the spell every day. Every day until things started to get weird in Tom’s life. His grandmother fell and was hurt fairly bad. His brother was almost killed in a car accident—thank God his two little boys weren’t in the car at the time. Cathy knew I was working some sort of mojo over Tom and begged me to stop. Tom finally called me to ask me out again and I put my magic books away.  I had gotten my wish.

Oh, had I just left things well enough alone and gotten on with my life. I gave in with the drugs once we were seeing each other again and the next five years were a blind fury of sleepless coke filled nights, near overdoses, a trip to jail for Tom, stealing, and lost jobs. Not a single thing I could look back on and be proud of. He finally proposed and I said yes even though I knew in the deepest part of my heart I wouldn’t marry him. Still, I bought a dress, booked a hall, photographer and caterer, the plans moved forward.

The only light in this whole mess was marriage classes since we were planning to be wed in the Catholic church that Tom had grown up in. We attended weekly classes and something happened in my heart. I wanted more than anything to be sober. I prayed fervently for God to give me the strength to find my way out of the dark black hole I had dug for myself the past five years. Instead of reading witchcraft books, I started reading about Buddhism and even went to hear the Dalai Lama speak one night when he came to Pittsburgh! What an incredible night that was, a turning point in my life.

I continued to pray that God would help me get out of that mess, that wreck I had made of my life. He gave me the strength to finally get sober and say no to anymore coke. I found myself wanting to be away from Tom and spent nights and weekends with family and friends so I could escape the insanity. The spell had finally been broken.

Not long after, God sent Bill my way—my husband and father of our son, Michael. I have never been happier. I’ve grown so much closer to God in the past eleven years, my life has made a complete three-sixty. Blessings shower over me daily, I’m so thankful to have been given this second chance. Why I want to write? To maybe make that difference in someone else’s life, to help them find their way to God, to peace beyond understanding. To give back some of what I have been given at the foot of the cross. Amen.

Ah, November

Well, last night's trick-or-treating was a success. Michael scored a ton of candy in spite of the cold, persistent drizzle that fell as we covered the neighborhood door to door. Pea was loved in her little bumble bee costume and received lots of love and attention from kids and parents alike. She even got a few doggie treats along the way--you gotta love dog people!

Soaking wet and chilled to the bone, we headed for the warmth of the kitchen to unload Michael's candy stash, strip off wet clothes and climb into dry jammies, then sorted through the abundance of cavity producing caloric nightmares piled high on the kitchen table. Pea was just grateful to be home, out of the rain and her costume, and promptly curled up on the couch for a pre-bedtime snooze. I gave into a little temptation myself and sampled a few snack size Butterfingers and Reese's cups--my Kryptonite...Michael has apparently inherited some of my anal tendencies as he separated all the different candies into groups: Kit Kats, Milky Ways, Reeses, Hershey bars, Twix, Three Muskateers, and Snickers (Bill joked there was hope-at least he hadn't put them in alphabetical order...He's still learning, I comfort myself.) Other miscellaneous candies: Nerds, Pixie Stix, Tootsie Rolls, and lollipops were ushered into a 'rare' classification pile as there were only a few each of these treats. I stashed all the chips, pretzels, and crackers into another bowl since those are all destined to be lunch bag treats for school. Still, we had the large turkey roasting pan filled to the brim along with our own remaining candy that hadn't gotten passed out due to a lack of trick-or-treaters on our street. Our cul-de-sac is apparently a less attractive sugar stop than the next plan over--much more houses in a loop with a few crossing side streets. What the other kids obviously didn't know was that many of the houses on our little dead end street passed out full size candy bars, knowing they'd only get a few trick-or-treaters the residents could afford bigger treats. Nice. I'll try to remember to do the same thing next year...and not be stuck with so many left over mini-treats.

So the real struggle begins--getting rid of as much candy as possible without putting more inches on the waist and hips. I'm digging into a new work out plan and committing myself to sticking with a limited daily calorie intake. I'll send a stash of treats to work with Bill and tuck a few pieces in with Michael's lunch every day. It'll all go. I must remain strong. More struggles loom on the horizon--this is only the first onslaught of the season...Sigh...

Halloween, The Beginning of the Fattening Season

Tonight is finally trick-or-treat and fortunately the forecast isn't looking too cold or too wet, so we should be in good shape. Michael is being a scary skull face vampire kinda dude-simple mask put with his vampire cape from a couple years ago. I admire my friends who come up with all these super creative costume ideas. That seems to be where my creativity bottoms out. And Michael doesn't seem to care too much about what he's dressed as, all that matters is the candy bounty dragged in at the end of the night. Oh sugar and calorie hell...how I don't welcome you...

'Tis only the beginning of the fattening season. The mountain of carb-ridden junk he'll haul in tonight will haunt me until it's gone, so November is the one month Michael can eat candy for breakfast. Please! The sooner it's devoured, the safer it will be for me to be in the kitchen. Take some to school! Share with the other kids! Just get it out of my house! I tend to start pitching a few pieces every day. He's never noticed. A handful here, another handful there, tossed into the garbage helps keep it from adhering to my hips.

Then Thanksgiving. Why do Americans have a problem with gluttony and overweightness? We glory in these ridiculous high-fat, high-calorie holidays! Turkey, an ordinarily healthy entree, becomes not so healthy slathered in rich, creamy gravy, and saddled up beside a heap of savory stuffing and it's carb-laden cousin mashed potatoes. Oh and don't forget the dinner rolls. Really? Do we seriously need six or seven servings of starches in a single meal? And the desserts! Pumpkin or sweet potato pie, buried under swollen dollops of whipped cream. Or pumpkin rolls, pumpkin cheesecake, sugary sweet deliciousness headed straight for the muffin top tummy roll...

All this just in time to start baking for Christmas. Cookies and candies, quick breads and brittle. I do my best to give away almost all of the baked goods I make every year to family, friends, and neighbors. I love the baking, the house filled with the scent of warm cinnamony goodness, but I don't love the thought of spending the rest of winter trying to burn it all off again on the treadmill, squeezing into already tightening jeans...Ugh! The battle of temptation vs. will power begins.

I got a rock...

God Speaks

I've changed my routine a little this week, making myself stay up later than I usually do so I could attend Bible study the other night at my friend's house. Those who know me know I'm a stickler for my routine and I fight change tooth and nail. But I felt the Spirit's nudging me to make the effort to stay up, it would be worth it for me to make it to the Bible study, so I complied. I slept in a little and made myself stay up later. And I invited another friend to come with me, thinking that would encourage me all the more to go Thursday night.

I don't do a lot of socializing. I prefer the peaceful solitude of my home. Probably because I feel in control here. To be perfectly honest, the outside world scares me. Anything could happen out there--anything, and my mind plays out ridiculous worst case scenarios, so I prefer staying home. I feel safe here. I can keep my family safe here. Not so out there. Anything could happen. I don't like it out there. I don't know if I have slight agoraphobia, but the more I stay home, the happier I am. It's hard to budge me out of my safe little shell.

But I convinced myself this Bible study would be good. I could really use some time with girlfriends, time away from parenting and crazy puppies, dishes piled in the sink waiting washing, time to be just me, just His, enmeshed in His Word. Now, if that's not worthy enough to get me out of the house, truly nothing is.

Just past seven, Missy pulled up out front. I tugged on my jacket, kissed my guys, patted puppy heads, grabbed my purse and whisked out the door into the dark, chilly night. As a reward for simply making it out of the house, we stopped for a coffee at Sheetz then headed to Diane's, chatting about our weeks and weather, the possibility of snow over the weekend. We got a little lost because in my shorthand scribbling of directions, I somehow missed writing down the actual street name. Fortunately for cell phones, we managed to find our way. Whew! Another friend, Lori, joined us, tea steeped and prayers offered, we began.

October is not a good month for me anymore. Missing my dad steals my joy away. God blessed me with a patient, loving husband who bears beside me through the storming, grief lashing out in anger, wanting back what I can no longer have-his hand, his hugs, his smile, his eyes laughing. I dread the coming of his birthday, the remembering, the missing, the ten days 'til his passing, three more when he was placed underground, cold, forever gone. Three years hasn't made it any easier. The missing still hurts.

A few months ago I had read "90 Minutes in Heaven" by Don Piper, his after death experience when he actually walked in heaven before being prayed back to life on earth. When my dad first passed, I wondered in my heart if he had actually gone to heaven, or if he had to wait until the Second Coming, when everyone living and deceased will be raised. My pastor assured me his spirit would be in heaven, still a silent doubt yet lingered. Then reading Don's account gave me more reassurance that Dad would have gone on to heaven and that he's there waiting for the rest of us to join him in glory. Even still, the missing hurts.

Well, as we chatted through our study Thursday night, Lori, who works in the hospital ER, told us a story of one of her patients that week. An elderly gentleman who had also experienced death after a heart attack before being resuscitated, shared with her his peace, no longer fearing death because he had already once 'gone over'. His wife had also already 'gone over' and he was looking forward to going back to be with her again. That gave me such peace. Daddy'd gone over. He was happy. I will see him again.

God spoke to my hurting heart and told me exactly what I needed to hear that night. He helped me let go of some of the pain I've wrapped so tight around me. Then He showered snow on my early Saturday morning, softly loving me with what gives me the sweetest simple joy. I am blessed. Thank you, Abba. Thank you for always loving me.

First snow

My pretty tree with frosting

Costume contest at bowling

Meeting of demented, er, demonic minds...

First Snow

As I opened the back door, sweater wrapped tight around me against the cold, to let Sweet Pea and Tucker outside this morning, I heard it in the dark-the soft whisper of snowflakes as they pattered the leaf littered lawn. My heart danced and a smile creased my sleepy face as I said a prayer of thanks to God for this precious early morning gift. It's snowing! I keep peeking out the front window to watch it falling in the light of the street lamp, joy singing silently inside me as the branches are slowly covered in lacey white, then lawns disappearing, roofs of cars glistening reflections, diamonds fallen from the sky to sparkle softly, humbly here on earth.

Snow makes me feel like a little girl again, conjuring memories of childhood sled rides, snowball fights, bread bags slid inside boots to keep feet dry, cocoa and hot soup, Christmas magic, school cancellations, icicle popsicles, catching snowflakes on tongue, laying, laughing, making snow angels, watching the swirling white dance falling softly all around...

I want to wake Michael, let him see the morning magic. He shares my snow love--it's still new to him. He's spent most of his life down south, the land of Heat Miser's no snow no matter how cold it would get. This! This is joy! But I let him sleep...the snow is still softly sifting down and laying in the yards, the trees. He'll see when he gets up and his heart will sing with mine-beautiful snow!

Thank you Abba, Heavenly Father, for this treasured morning gift! Simple happiness lights in my heart of Your glory, Your grace, reflecting in this beauty...Praise the Lord! My heart sings, "Praise the Lord!"

Daddy

You took me in and raised me,
As the daughter you’d never have.
You loved me when the one who had me couldn’t,
And gave my heart a home.
 
You kissed my boo-boos,
And dried my teary eyes.
You read me bedtime stories,
And gave me piggy back rides.

You’d draw with me,

Laugh with me,
Encourage me,
Teach me,
Dance with me,
Hold me close and love me.
 
The years they flew,
And so I grew.
Went off to find my way.
But no matter what,
I always knew,
You’d save me any day.
 
Three years now,
That you’ve been gone,
I miss you every day.
Your laugh, your smile,
The silly things you’d say.
 
You taught me best,
How to love and give,
To those who need it most.
The material things don’t matter,
But the ones in your heart hold close.
 
I love you Daddy, with all my heart, forever.
I’ll always be your little girl…

Trying New Things

I know I'm running late today--way late. I can't believe it's almost two...But, I've been making myself sleep later the past couple of days hoping in turn that I'll be able to stay up a little longer at night. Halloween doth approacheth and I want to be able to trek around the neighborhood with Michael and the Pea Bee in tow, gathering all sorts of treats and yummies. And a friend is also having a Bible study at her house tonight, which doesn't start until 7:30, normally my heading to bed time...not at all my heading out into the world time! But, I really need some time out with friends doing something I would enjoy myself, not just family stuff. Bill gets to go hang with his buddies for Steeler games, sometimes he just takes his bike out for a ride just to escape a while--sort of like I did this weekend. Usually he's not as peeved as I was, but he's better at getting out and blowing off steam and socializing than I am, which I think probably makes him better able to manage his moods. I always stay in. I always keep my feelings in. Until I can't handle it anymore and I need to explode. So maybe a little time out with friends once in a while will help me not feel so cooped up and not so frustrated all the time. It's at least worth a little rearranging of the sleep schedule...and the rest of my day schedule...I'm so anal about my routine! But my weights were still waiting for me after I dropped Michael off at the bus, and the Zumba dvd's were next in line. Quick shower and a dash through the rain to Walmart and Aldis, home in time for birdie playtime while my potato baked for lunch. Finished up my daily chores and I still even have time to blog well before Bug will be home from school. It's all good and I'm really looking forward to time out tonight with friends--I need a little pick me up to shake off some of my recent grumbly gloomies.

But there's more new things on the trying block today. The nutrition guide that came along with my Zumba set suggested using protein powder in a couple of their recipes. I've never used protein powder, but I do know from tracking my food on Spark People, that most days my protein intake is seriously low. So, I thought, why not give it a shot? I ogled all the different protein powders in the diet and nutrition aisle at Walmart, trying to figure out which was the best buy. They all come in ridiculously huge jars and range in price from $15-$30, depending on the brand you choose. I picked one of the lower price range brands-I'm a confessed tight wad--what if I didn't like the stuff? Then I'm stuck with this huge bottle of yuck and out thirty bucks?? Yeah, not gonna happen. But the one I did end up choosing actually had less calories and grams of sugar than some of the more expensive brands and a higher amount of protein per serving--and isn't that the point? The protein without all the sugar and calories? So, I was admittedly paranoid, thinking less sugar could potentially mean less tasty...I could still be wasting $17 on a huge jar of junk...As soon as I got home and put all the groceries away, I had to whip up a glass of the protein shake to see what I'd gotten myself into. Good news-it was actually really good! Whew! Sigh of relief...another bullet dodged. I don't know what sort of difference this stuff might make in trying to lose weight but I'll be sure to let you know any positive progress!

Another little goodie I came across in this morning's devotions was a monthly habit tracking chart. I've been bothered lately by the fact that, once again, I am accomplishing nothing. I've been really good about blogging every day, but that's still not earning me a paycheck. I need to work on something publishable. I also need to work on getting through my computer training books. I could list a gazillion other need to do's that loom over my head every day, but those seem to be the two most pressing points for now. So, I tried to find where or how to download this habit checklist, but the website post is from 2007. You're supposed to sign up for their email list but I'm thinking this could be hopeless waiting for a response from a four year old posting...Instead, I've tried to configure my own new habit list in Excel (those computer training books haven't been a total loss after all!) I'll post a picture of their sample to give you an idea...maybe someone else might want to track some new habits out there as well?

Here's the link to the site for anyone willing to try waiting with me for an email with the actual link to the habit chart: http://www.productivity501.com/habit-list/308/ You never know, right? Starting new habits are the first baby steps to progress!


These are just a couple shots from our street, final fall glory:

This tree is so much prettier in person-at least the little Halloween decorations are cute!

World Vision

The weekend I went to the Women of Faith conference, I took advantage of an opportunity presented there by World Vision to sponsor a child in need. My child is a beautiful little nine year old boy named Kiran who lives in an area ravished by HIV and AIDS in India. I was drawn to his photo by his deep, dark brown eyes-they just captivated me and I knew he was meant to be my child. I filled out the sponsor card and brought his folder home with me that weekend. A couple weeks later, I received my sponsorship kit, which included more information about Kiran and his family, a pamphlet about living conditions in India, and suggestions of ways to pray for Kiran, writing letters, simple gifts to send and information about how my sponsorship will change and benefit his life and his community.

I went online to the World Vision website this morning to send Kiran an email. I thought that would reach him quicker than a handwritten letter and I wanted to let him know how excited I was to be his sponsor, fill him in our little family and promised to send him pictures of all of us soon. While I was on their website, I discovered there are hundreds of other ways aside from monthly sponsorships to help out children in need all over the world, even here in the United States. I was amazed at all the programs World Vision sponsors. There are individual programs, group, youth, church and family type programs, corporate sponsorships. They offer tutoring and after school programs here in the States, emergency disaster relief programs, there's even a Knit For Kids program where you can download a simple pattern to knit or crochet a sweater for a child. There are so many ways to help, I hope this will encourage some of you to find a way to open your heart to help a child in need today.

The World Vision web address is http://www.worldvision.org Please take some time to look and prayerfully consider how you can have a positive impact on a child's life in need.

My Kiran

Back in the Game

I'm trying to get myself back on track diet and fitness wise here and it's not going as smoothly as I'd like. I feel old...that's not a good feeling. I had trouble breathing a couple weeks back during my morning runs and I tired before I could made it through my whole route. Plus lately it's seemed I would always end up with the worst headaches after a long run, so I tried to cut back a little on my distance to see if that would help curb the pain. Then I slipped and broke my toe the other week and I hadn't been able to get a shoe on my foot, forget trying to run. So I had a couple lazy weeks and it started to show. It doesn't take much. It's not all bad. My fat jeans are still loose but my happy skinny jeans are a little more snug than I'd like, and there's more roll overflowing the waist than I want to see.

So what's an old fat bat like me supposed to do? Zumba! Only in the confines of my basement where skinnier, younger eyes can't see what happens when you turn forty and are trying to get back in shape after gaining as many pounds as years...I ate my way through losing my dad to cancer a few years back, my only comfort response that kept me from going back to smoking myself--which no one wants to do while watching a loved one battle lung cancer. Food saw me through the year he fought. Sadly, we both lost. Dad passed away ten days after his birthday that year, October 28th. We buried him on Halloween. And I wonder why I can't enjoy the holiday so much any more...October used to be my favorite month, now I spend the second half of the month moping, heart aching, still seeking comfort and solace in food.

I gained a good forty pounds that year. But I didn't smoke!! Small favors. I got tired of trying to suck in my gut enough to zip my size fourteen jeans. Fourteen, too close to sixteen. The only time I was heavier than that was when I was pregnant with Michael and it took me a good year to lose that weight, aided mostly by not having much time to sit still or eat while comforting a screaming colicky baby then morphed into non-stop toddler...I had no such help this time around--I was completely on my own to lose the unwanted extra pounds.

I joined Spark People, a free online weight loss program--the best weight loss program in my book! I followed their nutrition plans to a T, disciplined myself to drinking only water, and jumped on the fitness program, alternating strength training with cardio every other day. I started out with a step aerobic video, which didn't seem to burn enough fat so I convinced hubby to buy me an elliptical. I sweat my way through episode after episode of America's Next Top Model every morning (I dvr'd the weekly marathons), and the pounds slowly came off. Then a friend from Spark People had started training for a 5k turkey trot and would post her daily runs online. I began to think about trying running myself. Why not? I even found a race to sign up for at the end of that summer, better motivation to stick to the program and see if I could actually run the whole race.

I completed the training program and absolutely fell in love with running. The weight had really come off and I had even made it to a size smaller than what I wore in high school! The morning of the race came, Bill and Michael tagged along to be my cheer section, and off we went. It was a much steeper course than I had been used to, but I was determined not to walk, I wanted to finish the entire course running. And I did. I had never been so proud of myself in my entire life...I still wear that race shirt with such a feeling of happiness and self-satisfaction. I never thought in a million years I'd be a runner, let alone finish a race. It's really a great feeling.

Maybe that's part of what's contributing to my October gloomies. I'm not running as well as I used to. I'm far from giving up, though. I ran a couple miles on the treadmill yesterday morning and plan to take Tucker out for a few good runs before the weather turns too bitter to bear. But I'm also giving this Zumba a good shake. The music and moves are a lot of fun, it doesn't feel at all like exercise and you don't want to stop when the routines are done. I find myself moving to the music in my head throughout the day (more calories burning!!) There's even a little nutrition plan that comes with the DVD set--and I'm a sucker for new recipes! So, if I can keep my head out of the pantry, I may just find my way back to looser jeans once again. And maybe fit for further runs come spring...

Sunday Drive

I ran away for a little bit yesterday. Angry and frustrated, I just needed to escape for a bit so I hopped in my car and hit the road, snagging a skinny caramel mocha at McDonald's on the way. Where to go? I'm not much of a driver and tend to get panicky when I don't know where I'm at, but mocha in hand, I headed up Route 8. Had no idea where that would take me, but why not?

I hoped to see some pretty leaves but we're a little late in the season for that. Still, it was an easy drive through some beautiful rolling farm county. Black and white cows lazing in the afternoon sun dotted a hillside. Bare tree branches poked through browning golden and orange hanging on leaves, too stubborn to give up the ghost and just fall. I drove through an adorable quiet little town called Harrisville--just the kinda place I'd love to live. A simple slice of sweet Americana, it reminded me somewhat of the tiny town of New Bremen that we lived in for a few years in Ohio. The streets were all flat and straight, cute houses and quaint shops lined Main Street. A couple riding bikes darted across the street in front of me as they were leaving the Family Tradition Restaurant. A beautiful day for a bike ride. I continued heading north.

Eventually I ended up in Venango County and I had to slow down as a small flock of wild turkey crossed the road ahead of me. Thoughts of turning around and heading back home entered my mind. My caramel mocha was long gone, I hadn't brought anything else to drink and I was getting a little thirsty. Plus it'd be about time to start dinner by the time I'd make it home again. I found a spot to turn around and headed south, retracing my route and watching it all play back in reverse. Cows spotted the hillside on the opposite side of the road, still lazing in sunshine, enjoying one more warm, beautiful day before the chill of winter would soon come sneaking in.

Home once more, I tossed the load of wash I had abandoned when I left into the dryer. Wagging tail dogs waited to greet me at the top of the basement stairs, happy that the food person was home in time to dish out dinner. I called dibs on the TV so I could watch a few favorite Halloween movies and husband retreated to watch the football game on the set downstairs. Heated the oven to roast turkey tenderloins for dinner, mashed sweet potatoes with garlic and parmesan, covered and baked twice while the tenderloins finished. Boiled wax beans frozen from an earlier garden harvest.

Laundry folded during a commercial break. Dinners served and dishes washed. Bathtime. Bedtime. Quietly reading under covers. Lights turned off, prayers said, pups snuggled, sleep welcomed.


.




.