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........Think about this

Try to keep a bird from singing after it's soared up in the sky

Give the sun a cloudless day and tell it not to shine

Anybody remember this old Steven Curtis Chapman song?
This was one of his upbeat songs in the nineties that I probably blasted in the car contributing to the hearing loss I have now.

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Jason and I worked out this morning. We've been faithful to go to the gym even when we don't feel like it. We've been eating healthy for a week too. We've steered clear of wheat; a goal we sat for ourselves last week.

There has been a frosting on the cake (that we haven't eaten).  This week has been full of old friends. We celebrated a friend's entrance to glory and remembered a life lived for God. Last night Jason and I had a fabulous date night. This summer is ending knowing that I spent more time with my family than I did on laundry and dishes.  Rylie shared the best news possible.

I've learned how to better live on something other than "bread alone".  I must admit, I'm feeling pretty good. Those of you who know me,  have heard me complain on a regular basis though I've learned to try to throw in a jovial Ha Ha to make light my admissions of misery.

Just as I share my faults and failures, mishaps and other gripes, I should likewise be sharing a joy I'm finding undeniable. 

Today I am.

While I was on the rowing machine this morning I had my headphones plugged in. I typically only jam on the inside. But this morning I couldn't help it. I began to hum "Dreams"  by the Cranberries:

I know I've felt like this before

But now I'm feeling it even more

Because it came from you

The music in me had to come out.

Typically I only sing out loud in the kitchen, or beside somebody with good harmony at church, or in the car (when I'm not at a red light).  I contain myself, fearful that I won't sound good; hesitant that someone might not appreciate my singing. I'm reserved. Other times I'm too tired to sing; too distracted to even listen to the words.

Today the shuffle on my Ipod played some of the best songs.  I realized that though my sound may not always be sweet, there are some songs that are always worth singing.  Somehow I understood that my singing shouldn't be about me being perceived as awkward or off-key, for I am not ashamed.  Some songs are meant to be turned up and sung out.

I sing with Steven Curtis Chapman:

Think about this

If we really have been given the gift of life that will never end

And if we have been filled with living hope,

we're gonna overflow

And if God's love is burning in our hearts, we're gonna glow

There's just no way to keep it in

There's a soul-spilling song within us.  Let's sing it out loud.

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But if I say, "I will not remember Him or speak anymore in His name," Then in my heart it becomes like a burning fire shut up in my bones; And I am weary of holding it in, And I can not endure it. Jeremiah 20:9

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August 7

Our momentary troubles

I caught one of the kids wearing their swimsuit yesterday because they said their unmentionables needed to be laundered. I can't decide if I should be more embarrassed because my kid was wearing their swimsuit for underwear or for the fact that I'm sharing this with you.

You might remember that Monday I spent hours, no exaggeration, calling and visiting pharmacies and clinics to get the second dose of the varicella (chicken pox) immunization to be school-prepared. Our insurance wouldn't pay for a pharmacy to administer the shot and there wasn't a clinic I could find that had it available. We still don't have the shot which is required to be admitted in school. I'd rather not pay the hundred plus non-insurance cost. And I'm not home schooling.......To be continued. P.S. I haven't bought a single school supply. I've got to face shopping, apparently more unmentionables need to be on the list.

Yesterday was day three of our wheat free week. I ate out with some wonderful ladies at the Tea Room on Nederland Ave. I skipped the wraps and scrumptious sounding Quiche for Lentil soup and a salad. (It was actually really good). The kicker was the waitress describing the Chocoflan on the dessert list. I rarely have dessert but it bothered me that I couldn't have the Chocoflan because it wasn't wheat-free (my friends were watching).photo (11)

I made rice noodle lasagna for supper. I was pretty pleased until I heard a crunch-the kind that makes you want to put your fork down and call dinner done. Hayden announces "Y'all be careful not to bite down on the dry wall".  He bit into a noodle not exposed to adequate sauce. I'd really tried to make this dish work........

The world is a tragedy to those who feel, but a comedy to those who think. -Horace Walpole

Still buried under mounds of laundry.

She is clothed with strength and dignity; she can laugh at the days to come -Proverbs 31:25

We're packing up to visit Trinity to remember one of our favorite ladies in the world,  Ms Marj, who lost her battle with leukemia. She was as dazzling as her hats and earrings. I wish I could have one more hug, but I know she is fully experiencing the victory of the THE BIGGEST BATTLE.  I'm glad for that.

Energy is hard to find these days.  My body is in rebellion to my new diet and insistence on working out; it wants to know where all this 'out-of-the-blue healthiness' comes from anyway.

There's one thing most-worth mentioning that happened last night prior to the noodle fiasco. Rylie took her spoon and tapped her glass of Gatorade, toast-style, and said she had an announcement. It was a good one. I won't share it just yet because she plans on sharing it with the world this Sunday.photo (12)

There are a thousand things in a week that don't go just as I planned (Thank goodness some of them don't!).  My computer not working, another failed dish, pants that won't fit, arguing in the backseat, clutter on the stairwell....... these things put me in a tizzy. And they make me tired.

But then I think about Ms Marj. And I think about last night's "Big Announcement".....and I then I remember

For momentary, light affliction is producing for us an eternal weight of glory far beyond comparison. 2 Corinthians 4:17

It's that knowledge that turns my tizzy into felicity.  Really, these momentary troubles are weightless in light of eternity.

Every day is not a good day. Life is lived best when every day is realized as a God day.

 

 

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Diary of a Wheat-Free Gal

If you missed my last post, due to some health issues, I shared that the 0 (17)Burdens are attempting to go a week with no wheat.  This is difficult for two reasons. 1. I am the grocery buyer and family chef (sorry as I am at it). 2.Wheat is in almost everything.  I LOVE BREAD (Oops! that's three).

We have survived the first thirty hours of our wheat-free week; with only like one hundred thirty-two hours to go.

8/4- Yesterday wasn't too terrible.  I had a Rice Crispy treat for breakfast.  I realize that doesn't fit the general good-health bill, but it doesn't have wheat.

Church cheered me on with a good message and some of my favorite songs.  (If you're dying to know what those were, they were "Soon and Very Soon," and "Days of Elijah").  One song, that I can't remember, had the perfect line for me:

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I had to grab a pen and madly scribble down those words.  They'll be my worship words this week.

Yesterday for lunch I fixed a potato and ham casserole and substituted regular flour which contains wheat with rice flour.  When asked if it should be something we have again, the dish passed 4-2 (Our schnauzer Griffin gets a vote because he eats the leftovers). The family has been very cooperative.

In case anybody from church was wondering, I ditched my bun at the hamburger supper last night.  Sorry you had to see me eat my beef patty with my fingers, but I didn't see a fork. So though ill-mannered, supper was a success.

I had a Mooo Bar for a snack.  It gave me a nightmare last night that it had wheat.  I was terribly disappointed that I had unwittingly consumed wheat disguised in an ice-cream bar.

8/5- After a rough night, I went to HEB this morning and stocked up on more gluten-free snacks and lots of veggies.  My receipt wasn't that much more painful than usual.  I never foresaw (is that a word?) healthy eating as something that I would choose to struggle with.  And in some way, it still doesn't sound mention-worthy.  But here's a few things I'm looking to see happen.

1. I'm hoping that my family will be healthier.  I'm hoping for fewer headaches and less belly issues.  Being able to say hello to some of our old jeans would be nice too.

2. I know that it's those things I can't do on my own, that cause me to pray.  I'm hoping that I learn to better pre-emptively pray and not only pray when I'm desperate though it's a good idea to pray then too.

3. I'm hoping that my self-discipline, with God as the source, will be increased.

4. I would love for my kids to learn alongside me that doing things we don't want to do (but know we need to) is a part of maturing.

5. In case you noticed, I mentioned that my family is going wheat-free, then I said a lot of me, me me's.  I believe I am the tone-setter for my family.  My decisions and attitudes are an important guiding force in my home; I pray I would be a good guiding force.

Emeril's Potato Casserole:

http://www.yummly.com/recipe/Emeril_s-Potato-Casserole-Recipezaar?columns=4&position=6%2F7

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Pleasure often comes with adverse reactions.

I've come to the conclusion that, presently, wheat is my one of my pleasure enemies.  Due to Rylie having an allergy to it, amongst other offenders, I've intentionally become more aware of what we eat.  After avoiding wheat myself and then going on a weekend splurge of fresh tortillas and empanadas, I realized that wheat affects me adversely too.  I get headaches and stomach-aches.  And ironically, wheat puffs me up like I'm carrying a bun in the oven.cookies wh

Through some research, I've been attempting to find out if wheat should be avoided. I love it dearly.  I would be satisfied with simply a thick slice of buttered sourdough bread.  Is that too much to ask?........ I think so.

So I say goodbye completely to wheat for a week. No oat and honey breakfast bars, no PB&J sandwiches.  No yeasty rolls and no fried....anything.

Jason has joined me.  Rylie doesn't know it, but she has too.  She is only supposed to eat wheat every fifth day, but I've let her cheat, a lot. We start tomorrow.

You can probably guess what I'm eating today.  I made chicken fried steak for lunch.  For dessert and supper I made chocolate chip cookies.  I know.......I'm in trouble.

I can't imagine that anyone would be remotely interested in my diet, but there's a broader issue at hand I feel certain some of you can identify with.  For those of you with saintly self-control, my hope is that you'll in pity pray for me.

I'm terribly soft.  Like my seven-year old told me in May, "I want to do what I want to do".  For the most part, I want you to do what you want too, unless it's clearly wrong.  A self-justifying creature, I can talk myself into watching one more episode of Disappeared on the ID channel when I have other things to do.  I can remind myself that I didn't drink the entire content of the last Dr. Pepper can, leaving an excuse to pop open one more.  I'm the friend that says, "Go ahead and get the dress, you look great in it".

It's now as I sit with my gluttonous belly-full of gluten that I am convicted of my lack of self-control. My tendency in choosing pleasure over what is good for me has been layed bare.

So it is with a full stomach that I ask for prayer.  I want to better know that pleasure and joy are not the same.  In an arm wrestling match joy would win; pleasure would poop out. Joy comes from a deep well.  Pleasure is a tickle to our senses; immediate gratification that goes as quickly as it comes.  I want to learn to have joy in waiting for desired change.  I want to experience the accomplished and grateful feeling that comes as a result of something worked for.  Pleasure has been my partner.  It's time for a partner change.

All things are lawful for me, but not all things are profitable.  All things are lawful for me, but i will not be mastered by anything.  1 Corinthians 6:12  (Take that, pleasure!)

I need the partner that shows me the difference in what feels good and what is truly good.  I need that partner, the spirit, that urges me in the way I should go, whether or not it makes me happy.    I need to be filled so that I'm capable of living beyond my most immediate whim.

Pray for me.

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The heights charm us, but the steps do not; with the mountain in our view, we love to walk the plains.

-John Wolfgang von Goethe

 

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You've heard it said, "I took the road less-traveled".   The bold traveler choosing it's path must be up for adventure.  The one on the road less-traveled seizes newness and finds opportunity for growth.  There's often glory found on the road less-traveled.

You don't hear so much about the road much-traveled.

Some would say that the road that's traveled everyday is a road with lined with ruts. It's a  path of drudgery. It might be said that the road much-traveled lacks luster in its old, familiar path.photo (7)

Maybe.

I say the road much-traveled, when well-traveled, is faithful.

It's surely a road you travel in prayer.

Maybe you've prayed for a devastated friend for weeks; "Lord, help her get up in the morning.  Help her rest.  Help her know you're near."  Your words, tired-sounding, come out nearly just the same on Friday as they did on Tuesday, but they're sincere.

A prayer may be long spoken for your children.  Just like yesterday, and years before, you pray that your children would grow in their love for God.  Your prayer firm, you ask again and again that he would draw them near.

Like an unrelenting child you pray for help, for those things with which you struggle, fear or a bad attitude.  You pray honestly that God would help you to be unselfish and that you're love for His word would grow.

Keep walking your prayer road.  Be thankful when its scenery is beautiful evidence of answered prayer. And be hopeful for those things which are yet to be seen.

Walk the road of prayer even when you don't feel faithful, for its destination is better than what we presently see.

Whether I run, or slow to a crawl, I will carry on down this well-traveled path knowing-

....your steadfast love is before my eyes, and I walk in your faithfulness. Psalm 26:3

 

 

 

 

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imageI've heard Jason tell several people I was leaving him.  That's only partly true.  Summer is the only time I have the opportunity to see all of our family for more than a quick hello.  The kids and I have spent pretty much the whole summer touring central Texas.

At the beginning of this week we even got the opportunity to visit Ace.  He's my niece's busy all-over-the-place dog/kid.  He's partial to Jessica, my niece, his mom.  He runs around in a tizzy, then goes and checks in with Jessica (his master).

Funny thing happened this visit.  Jessica was kind enough to share some of her duds with Hallie and I.  I was able to squeeze into a pair of her jeans which I was quite happy about.  I must mention that Jessica and I are similar.  We've been told on numerous occasions that we look alike and that we have the same mannerisms (which also makes me proud-She's awesome!).

Well...... After one of Ace's dizzying spells, he runs up and jumps on the back of my legs, all "I love you, pick-me-up-like".  I turn around to scoop him up and he "crawdad crazy crawls" backward in fast motion. Confused, and a little let-down, I went about my business. 

But Ace did it again. Several times he approached me only to retreat as quickly as possible. Here's the only thing I can figure.

I'm in Jessica's house.  I'm where she's supposed to be.

I look a little like Jessica, maybe his eyes are partly blocked by maltipoo fur.

Wearing her jeans, I probably even somewhat smell like her.

It's only when Ace got close that he recognized that I wasn't Jessica.

The little guy has made me think of how we humans often mistakenly approach a wrong master.  Sometimes being financially secure or having a squeaky-clean image is our master.  We'll make success and acceptance our master.  

Being the "woman of God" that I am, I make every effort not to chase after those false Gods. Though I sometimes live for earthly things, I typically don't fool my saintly self into believing they're of God.  While that's all well and good, it leads me to a problem I believe we Christians encounter.

Sometimes we wrongly run at anything that looks or smells like God.

Having an "Ace moment", we approach something that "looks like Him".  Maybe we volunteer for some service project.  Possibly we're involved in twelve different ministries at the church- the more God-seeming things you do, the closer to God, right? I have the decorative crosses adorning my wall and I have drawers full of church shirts.  I listen to "the right music" (at least on Sundays).

Please don't misunderstand.  It's not that there's anything wrong with going through the motions.  The motions are often acts of worship; intimate time with God.  Our church shirts and cross necklaces can be emboldened displays of a God we live for.

But don't be satisfied with anything that merely, on its own, serves as a substitute for time with the One and Only. Don't settle, believing Christian songs and t-shirts, bible studies and perfect church attendance are by themselves the "real deal"; be like Ace.

You will seek me and find me, when you seek me with all of your heart.  I will be found by you, declares the Lord.  Jeremiah 29:13,14 

 ace and real

 

 

 

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imageGo Ahead and Dust

I avoid dusting. It was one of my jobs growing up. I was supposed to dust the shelves in the living room once a week. I was as dramatic then as I am now so you can imagine my dismay every week come dusting time. If my mom didn't remind me, you better bet dusting didn't happen. Of the times I did dust, I cheated half. I dusted around the five dozen music boxes and trinkets that lined the shelves. I skipped the corners and the shelves that were too tall to meet the eyes. I had better things to do.

The girls and I are at my parents house for the week. I plan on visiting my Meme who I never see. Saturday will be my class reunion. I'll travel twenty years back to poofy hair where we all existed in caricature form. I'm going to store up mom and pop, sibling, niece and nephew time because soon the school year schedule will hold us hostage again.
Mom had day surgery today. I decided to spruce up the house a bit before she got back. I swept and mopped and ran a load of dishes. I straightened pillows. I opened the curtains feeling rather pleased.

Sunlight revealed shelves lined with dust urging my attention.

Rather than ignore what had been exposed, I grabbed the bottle of Old English dabbing drops of lemon oil onto my rag getting set for my work.
After cheating on an entire shelf I decided to do right. I began to pick up every trinket swiping underneath. I dusted under the wooden church music box with the broken cross steeple (a result of my dusting). I was reminded of our many trips to the San Francisco Music Box Company to pick out something for mom for Christmas.
Beyond the dust-lined shelves are memories like the one of my dad crawling, with me on his back, to my room at bedtime. And that memory leads to thoughts of how thirsty I always seemed to be when I got into bed, "I need a drink of water!".

Working through the dust was heart-filling; so much so that I dusted the Grand Piano. It stands firm on large carved legs; a familiar backdrop to pictures growing up.

On it, I dusted little faces captured just a year or two ago of a new generation. I was struck by the hard fact that time pays no heed to my wish that my kids remain kids.

Today I didn't forget to dust. Mom didn't have to remind me. And I didn't cheat. I removed all the dust and went back to the place where I was formed; a place I love. I let waves of sweet and sad wash over me.

As I hold tight to these uncovered memories, I know that busyness and the dust will return.

Still, I'll take the time,no shortcuts, to dust again. Because sometimes there's nothing better to do, than remember.

Sometimes, he sighed, "I think the things I remember are more real than the things I see." -Arthur Golden

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Occasionally comes a conversation I may wish the next day didn't exist.
Just had lunch with a spunky-hearted friend.  I love seeing her at church on Wednesdays, Sundays and on social media. We pass each other in the hallway by the sanctuary with hearty hellos.  In the Facebook world we give each other the "little blue thumbs up" in agreement with the other's post. We don't, however, agree on everything.
We caught a glimpse of the infamous George Zimmerman trial today while sharing chips and salsa.
Blast!

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I told myself I wasn't going to mention it, but I knew immediately I was lying.  It came out something like "I'm going crazy watching this trial".  The response included a request for my thoughts on the case.  I knew I was treading on shaky ground.  The George Zimmerman trial is so emotionally charged.  If you've watched it or read about it for a few minutes, you probably have an opinion. I have, (though I promised myself I wouldn't) read every article written about the case.  I have watched much of the trial live.  I shout at the TV and shake my head in disagreement.  I growl and Google information to prove a reporter's information incomplete or erroneous.

I care so much I tell myself.  I'm passionate and intense.

There are causes and issues that often times steal my heart. 

 Abortion? (I can barely type the word it's so emotionally weighted).

Alcohol abuse-How much alcohol is ok?

Homosexuality-Do people living the lifestyle belong in boy scouts?  Should they be allowed to marry?

Racism/Reverse Discrimination- Does everyone discriminate to an extent?

Child Abuse -What constitutes Child Abuse?  Is it ok to spank your kid?

I read the news. I read the Bible.  And I think.  I consider both sides of an issue, turn it into black and white, and I make my stand.

I find the bottom line; the line that's toed by people who stand for goodness (in my holy opinion). 

It's good to know right from wrong; surely everyone thinks they do.

It's good to know the bottom line.

But behind every bottom line there are people; some on my side and some that aren't.

My facts and figures wound tight in my emotions make that bottom line so large in my vision that the people behind the bottom line become hard to see.

More important than facts I can easily recall from forensic experts in the Zimmerman trial, are the broken families.  Both sides.  Behind the bottom line, you have one family who has lost their son, and one family who fears, no matter the verdict, that their son will, in a sense, be lost too.

Right is right.  And wrong is wrong.  But aren't people who are, in our mind,  wrong, more important than our being right?

If people don't know that we love them, nothing we have to say matters.

23 ........ don’t get involved in foolish, ignorant arguments that only start fights. 24 A servant of the Lord must not quarrel but must be kind to everyone, be able to teach, and be patient with difficult people. 25 Gently instruct those who oppose the truth. Perhaps God will change those people’s hearts, and they will learn the truth. 2 Timothy 2:23-26

"Gently instruct" comes finally after  Don't get involved. Don't quarrel.   Be kind.  Be able to teach. Be patient.

I genuinely love people, but there have been times they have come after the bottom line.

Lord help us to remember that there are people behind the bottom line.  Help us to understand that, really, people are the bottom line.

We pray that our helping people to know you, and trust you, will always be more important than anything we know.

Dedicated to my brother; my favorite person to argue with.

 

 

 

 

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“He found him in a desert land and in the wasteland, a howling wilderness; He encircled him, He instructed him, He kept him as the apple of His eye.” -Deuteronomy 32:10 NKJV

Rylie has a wish and it's no secret wish.  She's shared it in front of her brother and sister rather matter of fact.  She wishes she were an only child.  Surprisingly this wish has not come up when Hayden is taunting her mercilessly.  Nor has she mentioned wanting to be an only child when she and Hallie are arguing about a towel left in the bathroom floor or whose turn it is to watch a show on TV.  So reason leads me to believe that her feelings about her siblings have nothing to do with her desire to be "the only one".photo (5)

She's so fun to play with that I often find myself doing just that; playing into her delusions .  Not long ago Hayden and Hallie were gone with friends for the night so Jason and I pretended that she was it; our only child.  If the name Hayden was mentioned Jason responded "Who's Hayden"?  Last Thursday I woke her up early for an "only child" date.  Riding in the car there was no waiting for Hallie to finish talking; Rylie had the floor.  It was just us two.

Jason and I periodically take one of the kids out on a date for some one-on-one time.  "Only Child" dates have become important in a family where you forget what you were going to say before it's your turn to talk or you may even speak without being heard.

I'm good with having 'brother and sister' time.

I'm an obvious fan of corporate worship. I love listening to that preacher man. And I couldn't do without the Sunday morning greeting-time or the post-worship catch-up time with church friends. I'm in awe of the reverence and intimacy felt in a room where hundreds of heads are bowed in silence one moment and then voices swell the next, in sweet harmony.

I have a special group of friends that I instantly text when I need prayer help, which is often.  I adore my Mom's In Touch group and there's nothing like Bible Study on Sunday mornings and weekday evenings.  I love that God is present in the sanctuary and in group texts.  I'm happy God's in my group.  I'm glad He's God of the multitude.

But He knows when, like Rylie, I'm a needy child.  There can be ninety-nine other  'sheep' and yet it's as if I'm the only one.  He's ever ready for some Him and me time; no being penciled in on the calendar.  He's never in a hurry and His attention is undivided.

We go on "only child" dates and have moments where I'm the only one- and He's the only one too.

He walks with me

(I'm found; encircled)

and He talks with me

(He instructs me)

and He tells me I am His own

(and I am kept)

And the joy we share as we tarry there

None other has ever known

(I am the apple of his eye)

-In the Garden

Time with God isn't always meant to be shared.

I'm thinking Rylie is on to something.

 

 

 

 

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I've had a banner morning.  I only had two mismatched socks in my folded laundry pile.  That never happens.  I normally have a handful of socks that go to the Island of Mismatch Socks, a basket in the laundry room.  I collect them I guess.  I let them mount up; kind of like my registry of troubles and my thoughts of unattainable dreams.

Considering all of the nice-fitting, fresh-smelling sock pairs we have in my family you'd think I wouldn't worry about the pairs we don't have.  Sure there are long-lost socks under beds and in the small crevice that divides the washer from the dryer.  But why worry when we have enough socks for today?  We've never had a day when we didn't have socks to wear.  There have been days I've squeezed my toes into Rylie's psychedelic zebra-stripe  socks.  Other days I've watched as the girls have made their way down our sidewalk to the car wearing two different socks. Does it matter?  Despite the ones we're missing, we'll always have socks.  I'm certain of it.photo (4)

Worry for people consumes me. How will she make it alone? Does he know that God loves him? Will she ever be able to get past her fear?

Small trouble of my own mounts up.  I mentioned in another post, my fluff problem.  Then there's the well-being of my kids that troubles my heart.  Will they be successful next school year? Will they find good spouses, be good spouses?

And my unattainable dreams?  I want long hair, not short. But there's the knowledge that it wouldn't be silky like the hair in Pantene commercials.  I have a dream of getting new couches; ones that don't expose the white fluff that pokes from the seams.  The new couches would have cushions that you don't have to shove back in with your knees every time you walk by.  Couches and long hair? I realize I dream small, but I dream; a lot.

I spend my life buried in the basket of missing socks. I'm covered with random worries and stuck in my thoughts of what I don't have.

I've hardly anything missing from life.

I have friends with real trouble.  I know people in real pain.  How can I help them while stuck in the bin of lost socks and unrealized dreams?

Worrying and wanting are weaknesses to be shed.

Be strong in the Lord.....with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. -Ephesians 6:10,15

The gospel of peace.  I want to wear it.

Always be ready to give answer to everyone who asks you for the reason for the hope that you have. 1 Peter 3:15

Wearing the gospel of peace requires "I get over myself". It requires me knowing my Hope.  I need to know more of He who gives it.  I need him to teach me what really matters.  It's time to stop focusing on missing socks; I have more than plenty.