Diary of a Poor, Sad White Girl - Or Why Keeping a Journal Helps

photo by Paul Worthington
Madeline L'Engle writes this in the forward to A Grief Observed by C.C. Lewis

"...It is alright to wallow in one's journal; it is a way of getting rid of self-pity, self-indulgence and self-centeredness. What we work out in our journals we don't take out on our family and friends." A Grief Observed is the journal Lewis kept after the death of his wife, and he wallows better than anyone I have ever known, and in so doing, left something helpful to the world of grieving loved ones."

Grief is not my really my topic today. Though surely grief is a factor in my situation, the grief over my Dad’s long and arduous misfortune and then his abrupt and unexpected passing away is the great tragedy of our family. It influenced me in profound ways, and journaling through that was a healthy coping mechanism, whereas other methods of grieving were not so productive. I should have journaled more. Journaling is my subject today, and how immensely helpful it can be for all the reasons L’Engle stated above. Our lives are comprised of good and bad days, and in between days. In one’s journal the heartbreak of the awful day(s) can be recorded in the livid detail and all the ferocious ugliness that often seethes beneath the surface of our pain. (It’s not a pretty sight and there is a good argument to be made for keeping some of it private.) Conversely, our joy can be multiplied and our progressive steps can be plotted and charted. Our journal is our journey.

Even now as I use this blog as a sort of journal I have at times kept some of my entries private because on further reflection and revisiting, I declared them too much of a personal wallow, still others made the cut because I felt that the transparency and confession could be good for myself and hopefully another soul who may be struggling similarly.

Have you ever known someone who’s hurt and pain is so obviously raw that nearly every time you see them the cause of their hurt is constantly and ever present in conversation? I have, and I fear there were some times where I was that person. Sooner or later it wears on their hearers - the friends and family with whom they converse. There comes a time when our genuine concern over our pain-obsessed friend becomes a little exhausted as the same topic is revisited again and again. We want to be a patient and compassionate friend but it is difficult. Those three “self” issues L’Engle mentioned in the above quote factor in. Though we might have the brotherly love of Jonathan and David and the patience of Job, there are times when we ourselves would appreciate a modicum of concern and some sort of friendly reciprocation from our hurting friend. Rubbing to long and too hard in one place creates a blister, and journals can be a helpful way of alleviating blisters.

Keeping a journal works for me.

Just to underscore the title may I recommend: Diary of a Mad Black Woman and Poor Girl by X.

Born a Penny, Pennies from Heaven

I was driving one of my children home from a lesson when I stopped to get gas. As I returned to my vehicle after paying, I looked down and found a shiny, copper penny. It was tails down. I think I like "tails" because it has always been more popular in my experience for people to call "heads" and I always wanted to be different. I've preferred "tails" since I was a little and coin tosses, along with Rock, Scissors, Paper and "Ennie-meanie-miney-moe" with your fists, were the common mode of making choices and picking people in childhood games and such.

I picked up the penny and placed it in my pocket. I thought of my sweet and superstitious Mother. She never misses picking up a coin and always told us, "See a penny, pick it up, and all day long you'll have good luck." I'm beyond believing in luck, yet my Mom's words stick with me and I pick up pennies with her fondly in mind. I also will admit to having a guilty pleasure in reading Dear Abby/Ann Landers kind of columns. One of those columns had published "Pennies from Heaven" stories that seem to comfort people, even if it is kind of hokey and superstitious. Anyway, this jumble of things go running through my mind when I see a penny on the ground.

After I picked up the shiny, little coin I got in my van and drove on my merry way. I turned on the radio and heard this song, "Born a Penny" by Shemekia Copeland, for the very first time ever. Funny coincidence, don't you think?

Light and Rain

This morning I walked into the kitchen and opened my east facing blinds. The sunlight streamed in and filled the room. It glistened on the raindrops that clung to the window and dripped from the roof overhang outside. Again, I was struck by the slight change in the quality of light. Rather than a warm light, it was cooler, like the difference between lemon yellow and golden or ochre yellow. Rather than being primarily warming and soothing, I found it refreshing and invigorating. And I hadn't even had my coffee yet.

It's the little things...

My children gifted me with planted flowers in pots they decorated for Mother's Day in their Sunday school class last May. The plants are 'full sun' tolerant, but the trouble is our extreme heat. They withered and had to be watered daily. I replanted them in a bigger bin and they have thrived. It makes me happy to see them brightening our front porch.



I was gloriously loitering around the drugstore yesterday morning when I found the above toy and bought it for myself. (Have you ever gloriously loitered? If not you should try it.) I was relishing my return to stay-at-home-parenthood, sans any kids during school hours, and was able to make my necessary purchases without the usual distractions. What are the usual distractions when I have to foray into a store with my offspring? Pressing requests for junky toys or foods we don't need; appeals for the latest and most aggressively marketed man-scented personal care or acne products; pointing out racy, potty-humored or noisy greeting cards; and the list goes on. Now you might understand why an opportunity to shop alone is a big deal for me.

Anyway, I found this Matchbox car and I had to have it. Matchbox cars were among my most favorite childhood toys. I think I liked playing with them and my Barbie Dolls with equal enthusiasm, though not at the same time, of course, nor with the same playmates. How many roads or block garages did my little brother and I make for our cars? Many afternoons were spent low to the ground, scooping out mini-highways with our hands in the dirt and pea gravel of the "driveway" of our parents' little summer place. Ahh, I remember it well, it was a cozy little corner spot near a big lake and a small Pennsylvania town.

On Sundays after church our good-natured Dad would take us to the general store where Matchbox cars were displayed in a window case. I know we anticipated this nearly weekly ritual as we would pick a new little car. Good days and good times. I found a picture of the same store.

Song Memory: Sunshine On My Shoulders

I think I am going to blog occasionally about something I'll call song memory. I know much has been written about sense memory and even scent memory. That would be the concepts of how our own senses and emotional responses are linked to the circumstances of certain memories. For example, the smells of certain things, trigger in us the remembrance of a certain person, place or time. Sometimes songs do that for me. Music profoundly affects me, and I know that to be true for many folks.



I associate Sunshine on My Shoulders by John Denver with a distinct day from my childhood. Every time I hear it, my first response is that I recall a little fragment of an actual of a day in my life. I am about 7 or 8 and with my oldest dearest friend, J. We are in rural Pennsylvania, walking down a narrow, slightly overgrown woodsy path that runs alongside a small lake. Sunlight is glistening on the water and on the leaves of the trees and shrubs. The path leads to a small dam, and being brave and young we always have to walk across it. It takes a bit of fearlessness and balance. J. is so much more coordinated than I am, she leads even though she's younger than me. It was a great way to spend a summer.

Interesting Photo

The above photo circulated the internet many (?) years ago and it stunned and fascinated me when I first saw it. After a little research over at snopes.com I was relieved to learn that the sea creature is a dolphin and not a shark! But, Oh what a picture! What gives me chills is that at first glance I thought it was a shark. I was not alone in that assessment. Then there is the size of the dolphin (9-10 ft.?) compared to the size and proximity of the surfer. Look closely at the dorsal fin, it's curved and the tail fin is horizontal rather than vertical, characteristic of dolphins and porpoises.

My family moved to Florida when I was in my early teens, and for a short time we lived in Indiatlantic, at a condo right on the beach. I remember swimming alone in the ocean one day, chest deep in the water. I was facing the horizon, when in front of me and a little to the right a dorsal fin cut through the surface o the ocean. It was about 10 feet away from me. I froze. The adrenalin coursed through my body but I could not move. I was so relieved when the body beneath the dorsal fin curved into a hump and I realized it was a dolphin. Still, being that close to something wild and that big, frightened me. I'll never forget it.

Monday Night Football Widow/300

I honestly tried to like football, oh about a gazillion years ago when Big Daddy & I first got together. Well, I'm exaggerating. However long a gazillion years is, I'm quite sure 24 years is not even close. The point is that in the beginning I did try. I asked questions, I tried to learn. Big Daddy says I'm not being honest, I never really tried to like it, but I respectfully disagree. I really did try to understand football and hoped I could like it. It didn't happen. I just don't like most sports at all. Period. When Adam played football last fall, I would try to follow the game. As we sat there, I would get a little distracted and end up chatting with someone. Then I would just cheer and clap when everyone else that was rooting for our team would cheer and clap.

I joke about being a football (or sports) widow, but really I don't mind. He's not as into every single sport and play off as he used to be, and he's a fairly good and attentive husband the rest of the time. So this time of year I retire to the bedroom and watch all the Clean House or other home improvement-food network-type shows I care to, which aren't his favorites. Big Daddy gets the living room, the bigger TV, which is fine with me. He's not such a fan of those half-hour home shows. This weekend I was pleased to see a movie I like, The 300 on the schedule while Big Daddy's Saturday college and Sunday Night pro-football played. He likes that one too, but not as much as watching his favorite college team!

The 300 is not for everyone. It's what you might call a guy's kind of movie. Full of action and fighting. I prefer the TV-edited version for obvious reasons. I linked the above review which is not exactly favorable, and contains some spoilers, to give a clear picture of why many would find it objectionable. Here is another review.

I disagree with what the author of the 'Plugged In' review says in his conclusion. I personally don't think most people admire the movie for the blood and gore it portrays. I'm sure some do. I rather think that many others like it for the extreme bravery, self-sacrifice and all around kick-butt-toughness the warriors portray. They are willing to fight with everything they have for a noble cause - the cause of freedom. Some of the dialogue is Shakespearean, in my own little opinion. As when the soldier known as Captain speaks of seeing his grown, but young son die in battle: "I have lived my entire life without regret until now. It's not that my son gave up his life for his country. It's just that I never told him that I love him the most. That he stood by me with honor. That he was all that was best in me."

Another reason I think the movie has its fans is that visually, the movie is stunning. It's like nothing you have ever seen before, it's filmed in such a unique way. It has special effects that are part Matrix and part comic book.

Anyway, that's all I have to say for this week. Oh except for a couple of things.

It was really, really warm. We had a reprieve from the extreme heat about two weeks ago, but this week it was back to blistering. It actually blistered Big Daddy's head. Ouch.

This rooftop garden is amazing (thanks to found on the web). Check out the rest of the 'Top 12 Rooftop Gardens' HERE.

Well, as my Mom and my friend C.P. would say, "Toodles."

My "Special" Brownies

I have a practice of sneaking healthier options into my family’s meals without their knowing it. I purée carrots, celery and mild bell peppers into tomato based sauces, such as marinara, pomodoro and even in chili. It’s delicious. When the children were little I put broccoli and cauliflower in their macaroni and cheese so that they would eat more veggies. I find that they are less likely to complain about whole wheat pasta when it’s smothered in a good tomato-based sauce, and sprinkled generously with some Parmesan cheese. Now that the healthful benefits of cinnamon are touted, I sprinkle cinnamon generously on their yogurt, applesauce and cereal. I’m into little things like that to add some healthiness to their food.

Big Daddy is as picky an eater as you’d find, and he is usually not easily persuaded into trying anything new, let alone healthy. But even he has budged and will eat some things that he might not of before. But he will also dig his heals in a bit and be a real hard sell on these kinds of things, too! So I often have to be stealthy in my goal of cooking healthful meals.

So along those lines, I found a tip for getting them to eat some healthy legumes, in brownies of all places. I know what you’re thinking. Ugh, gross. How can beans and chocolate brownies go together, um, tastefully? I was a skeptic myself. Several years ago, someone posted on the now defunct, or unavailable Hippie Christian Board this simple tip:

Mix one regular can of black beans with one regular package of brownie mix. Mash up the beans really well before you add the mix, and then don’t add anything else - no water, oil or eggs necessary. Cook, cool, refrigerate and eat. The woman who posted it suggested you NOT eat them warm from the oven, they are best at room temperature or slightly cool. I tested this an she is correct! I also think they take slightly longer to cook than the box directions, so you have to watch them. Oh yeah, and DO NOT eat them warm.

The thing is, they are pretty good. Mind you they aren’t warm decadent brownies you serve with ice cream on your birthday or other special occasions. But when you want a little treat that you don’t have to feel super-guilty about, and that gives you some added healthy food on the down low, try this recipe. My family has been eating them this way for a couple of years and haven't noticed. Which brings me to my most recent batch of special brownies.

This past Memorial Day we were planning and packing for our picnic at the beach. We did it the night before, since we wanted to get an early start. My Mom was here visiting, and helping by making the sandwiches. She asked if I wanted her to start the brownies we bought for the picnic. “Oh no,” I said, “I have a special recipe for them, to make them a bit healthier. I’ll take care of them, but I have to do it while the Big Daddy and the children are not around because I don’t want them to see what I’m doing.” When they were otherwise occupied I made my special brownies under the very doubtful and critical eye of my Mom. I tried to convince her. “Trust me,” I said, “They are really pretty good. You’ll see. You’ll be surprised, Mom.” She was not convinced, but I swore her to secrecy and knew she’d give them a try at our picnic.

We had a beautiful morning at the beach on Memorial Day: Swimming, snorkeling, walking and relaxing, the ocean was fairly calm, the weather was great. We all worked up an appetite playing. The picnic food was good - egg salad or bologna sandwiches, pickles, chips and ripe watermelon. Simple, yummy and satisfying. That is until we got to the brownies. Which I made with spicy, seasoned black beans. I didn’t read the label.

Now my family is on to me. And I will never hear the end of this one.

What I've Been Reading

Somebody on a message board asked, "What are you currently reading?"

I am doing the Bible in a year plan that I linked to in a previous post. I am currently in the books of Acts, Joshua and Job. I am delighted and amazed how the chapters I’m reading seem to be so apropos to something that is going on in my day or week, or somehow relate to some question I’ve had.

I just finished Heart To Heart with Pastors’ Wives by Lynne Dugan, and added A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce to my bag. Those are two books I’ve had around my home for years and years now. I have even picked them up a time or two, but never finished them. My plan is to finally read through the books I’ve collected before I borrow or buy another!

I have also begun (again and in earnest!) the book The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron. I have been doing my journaling as part of that book’s exercises, and in addition I have been sketching regularly in my sketchbook. This is a HUGE step for me personally, in overcoming the artist’s block I have been in for so long. I am so hopeful and pleased about this. Someone recently blessed and surprised me with a set of art pencils and other various supplies. God bless them! I have been putting them to productive use.

You might think it’s odd that I am reading two or three books at a time, in addition to a few Bible chapters. I never used to operate that way. I used to read one book until it was finished, often quickly if it was of interest to me, and then begin another. This new way of reading a couple at a time is helpful for my current condition. I like to read a ministry related or Christian theology type of book, and then a fiction or non-fiction book. I read a chapter or two at a time in each book. When I find myself a little bored, distracted, perplexed or even needing to ponder something in one book, it’s helpful to switch gears to another book. I keep a big tote bag with me, with my books, including the journal and sketchbook, and when something I read gives me an idea or an inspiration I can jot it down or draw it out. I am ready to make a note so I can study something I have a question about more in depth later.

I am trying to surrender myself more fully to the Lord in the areas of art, study, prayer and discipline. It is only by God’s grace I can do any of this. I was (and am) so sick of the procrastination and disorganization that plagued me for so long, I have been yielding to the Lord and trying to do better. I have been blessed with some quiet time on my job where I am able to read a little, and been making baby steps toward this end. So that is what I have been reading. What have you been reading?

Journal: A Note about Miami

average mannequin

This is just a weird observation. I went to a Miami mall a few weeks ago. I noticed the mannequins in many of the store windows had unusually large bosoms. It seemed odd to me but then: that's Miami. Plastic surgery is very common and popular there.

Old Friends

This past June we celebrated our wedding anniversary. We didn’t do too much since we were gearing up for our move, actually we were right in the process of moving and it was also the last week of school for the children. Once we got to our new home, and were a bit settled in, my husband did something very sentimental that we hadn’t done in about 17 years. He cued up our wedding video on the VCR, and we all watched it. How young and happy we all looked! How bittersweet to see our dear loved ones that have since died. Our kids were delighted to see it. This got me thinking about our old friends who were such an important part of our big day, and our lives then. I was able to find a few that I had lost track of, and sent an email to the ones I haven’t contacted in a long while. The wonders of googling and yellow pages dot com, because I was able to track them down without much trouble. I love and miss them and this poem is for them:

New Friends and Old Friends
by Joseph Parry

Make new friends, but keep the old;
Those are silver, these are gold.
New-made friendships, like new wine,
Age will mellow and refine.
Friendships that have stood the test -
Time and change - are surely best;
Brow may wrinkle, hair grow gray,
Friendship never knows decay.
For 'mid old friends, tried and true,
Once more we our youth renew.
But old friends, alas! may die,
New friends must their place supply.
Cherish friendship in your breast -
New is good, but old is best;
Make new friends, but keep the old;
Those are silver, these are gold.

For those that have left this life, Daddy, Aunt Dolly, Aunt Teresa and Johnny you remain, forever to stay gold in our hearts.

The Upside of My Clutter-Procrastination Problem

Well, really there isn’t much of an upside to clutter or procrastination. Seriously. But here is one of the quirky by-products of my clutter/procrastination problem: I tend to put aside rolls of 35 mm film I have taken, and place them in a drawer somewhere rather than get them developed right away. Big Daddy will come across them, usually years later, and get several developed al at once. Then it was like looking at a time capsule and very fun! In the course of our move, we came across some of these, and one roll was from 9 years ago when we lived in Apopka!
This was from my garden back then:

Mama Said There'd Be Days Like This...

In honor of my darling babies who are visiting their Granny, I post this which they inspired. I wrote it sometime in April of 2008.

Warning: This post is sick. Vomit is discussed. Stop here and read no further if you have a weak stomach.


My morning (yesterday):

Get everybody up and moving for school. That means dressed, fed, & groomed (hair, face & teeth is my morning mantra). Adam had an 8:15 am doctor’s appointment for his Franken-finger (Frankenstein + finger = nasty bacterial infection). Calvin has to go with us, because Big Daddy is back to work (Thank God!). Big Daddy can see Flora off on her school bus, though. So we are on the road to the clinic which is about 15 miles away, and about 5 miles before we get there, Calvin lives up to his nickname: Up-Chuck. He has motion sickness. He has improved so much, and it’s been awhile since we had an episode in the van, so I didn’t have the towel and cup handy… Most of it got on his jacket. Adam rushes into the clinic to sign in on time. I clean Up-Chuck-up as much as possible. He is feeling fine and sits still for me in the waiting area. Thankfully we don’t have to wait too long. Perhaps the smell of our little group was instrumental in expediting our visit. I decide to stop at the pharmacy nearest to the clinic so Adam can get a dose of meds in him before I drop him off at school (he can’t miss anymore school). I pick up a few grocery items while I wait and write a check over the total amount, so I can have a little cash on hand. I pick up the prescription and head out. On the way to Adam’s school, Calvin throws up a little again, but we were prepared with a cup this time. After I drop Adam off I realize that the cashier never gave me my cash back. I get my receipt and call the number. I cannot drive all the way back there with a pukey child, in pukey clothes that I will have to load and unload out of his pukey car seat. At least when I was there earlier, Adam could sit with him in the van. I explain this, the lady from the store says she’ll count the cashier’s drawer to make sure, and call me back at home. I get home, clean out all of the pukey stuff from the van, you know you have to practically disassemble the car seat to remove the cloth covers, seat belt straps, etc. I get what I can into the washer. I run a bath for Calvin, who is very hungry now, of course. Bathe him, feed him, get him settled, resting and watching a movie. He is fine now. I am exhausted, though, and it‘s only 11am. My day begins at 6:30. Yesterday was quite similar to today. Yesterday was Flora having a melt-down. She was crying and freaking out before her bus came. She walks the dog in the morning and we play fetch with him a little while we wait for the bus. The dog got away from her, chasing after a bird and getting filthy in a muddy retention pond. Guess who had to catch the dog? Guess who had to wash the dog? Guess who got painfully scratched by the dog? Guess who was tempted, right then and there, to take the dog to the humane society? Then I had to rush off to a full day of errands with Calvin, rush home to plan dinner, do a few chores, and then get ready and go to my evening job. I was home at around 9:15pm which is surprisingly early.

It occurs to me, this is the kind of day they should use as an example for abstinence and birth control education. I’ve had many days just like this one, I'm sure most of you have also! My advice for the teen kids contemplating sex - don’t do it until you are READY for it, because it will lead to a life like mine. Smelling like puke and not enough sleep. Smelling like a wet dog and not enough sleep. And cleaning up the puke.
"Nausea, bloody red eyes go to nausea, bloody red eyes go to sleep...."

Sigh.

At one time I smelled like cloves and marigolds and cinnamon.

Songs for today:
Mama Said, Nausea, Middle of the Road, Once in a Lifetime

My mama, bless her heart, really never told me there would be so much puke. So I am telling you: you teens, you youngsters out there contemplating sex (I mean coitus), which leads to babies and children, realize there is a lot of puke that goes along with that!

I have been in my new home for almost two months now and so far, I like it. Some observations. There seems to be an unusually high percentage of dog owners here. Almost everyone has a pet dog, or pet of some kind, with birds and cats in a second place tie (?). I have found the people to be very friendly. I am putting off a job hunt until school resumes in August. I had some wonderful alone time this week, and really enjoyed it. I was able to visit a prayer garden at a local church.


I fixed some of my favorite foods, that only I like to eat. Penne with olive oil and garlic!

art and life

Picasso's Woman With a Crow
journal entry from 6/24/07

It occurs to me I have lived in my own kind of prison, in one area of my life, for many years now and I’m ready to come out of it. The source of this trouble goes back to my last year of college. I was so stressed out, guilty and ashamed of myself the last year of college, over 15 years ago! My school work suffered as I agonized over my Mom and Dad’s situation, the stress of finances, working and keeping it all together. I felt guilty for being a “lousy artist.” I still feel sadness mingled with embarrassment when I recall a horrible memory of an evaluation talk with one of my instructors, figure drawing, as he criticized my work. I never told anybody - teachers or classmates- all of what was going on, with the exception my roommate. That was a rather large factor in my less-than-spectacular quality of work. I look back now and the biggest impression I have of that last year of school is STRESS and WORRY. Stress and worry about my parents and their legal and financial problems. Stress and worry about doing my school work, meeting deadlines and balancing that with working as much as possible to support myself and pay for it. We lived somewhat of a double life because my Mom did not want us to tell anyone what was happening with my Dad, and you can still see my reticence in this to spell it out exactly. I remember a time a few years later, when I became a stay-at-home-mom(SAHM) after having Adam how relieved I was not to have to get up and go to school or work and be so engulfed by the stress of all that. I still felt enormous guilt for not pursuing an art career or even doing any art on my own, for pleasure or passion. I think all of that was wound so tightly into the way I was dealing with my family problems. I’d associated art and art-school with such negative feelings because it was the goal I had to slog through when my heart wasn’t in it for worry over my parents; and the huge financial strain it was to keep it going. Then it was the strain of continuing to pay for it in the form of student loans after graduation. I was growing and changing as a person with new priorities: motherhood and Christian Faith. I was resentful and embarrassed that I could not afford it. I was still dealing with the blow to our family in the form of my Dad’s tragic circumstances. Having to be there for my Mom and him, and even bear some of the responsibility of helping them, and feeling at times guilty and resentful (and feeling guilty about feeling resentful!). Then there was the worry and concern over my brother’s problems with addiction at that time and the way that touched our family. I was privately torn with guilt and vacillating over mine and my husbands’s passion for me to be a SAHM and our assurance of it being the right thing for us to do as Christian parents, and the fact that I was not contributing to our finances though the loans and other bills were my debts. We had severe financial problems due to stupid mistakes we made, and some even from my parents’ situation. I can’t tell you what a heartache and despair my Dad’s situation caused. It was the dark cloud that hung over all of our lives, effecting us in various ways. I can’t even go into all of that here. When my Dad passed away in 2000, there was no more carrying that burden, and grief runs it’s course. It was a sad and unfair situation, but there is no more to be done about it… The victim of the cruel circumstances, my Dad was gone, and the situation that ruled our lives for so long, went with him. I suppose there was a returning to ‘normal’? Big Daddy & I finally paid off my student loans, and that was a relief. I no longer lived in the state of guilt and anxiety I once did. I am ready to be free and do art again. Lord, help me start.

Turning the Other Cheek

I read this post on a blog today. Please check it out, for my post here to make sense. I wanted to post a comment over there but I hesitated about what to write. I wanted to show the right amount of encouragement, understanding and compassion, because it struck a cord with me personally. First, let me say I was never punched in the face like that. I was verbally abused and insulted by a person in my neighborhood. My oldest was about 7 and had been riding his bike around the block. He was chased by a large dog. It scared him but he wasn’t hurt. I put my toddler daughter in the stroller and had my son show me where it happened. I walked frequently throughout our neighborhood and I never saw any dogs that worried me, but there were a few in fenced in yards. I wanted to let the owner know their dog was loose. As I approached the house my son showed me, this woman came from the front porch, she was talking on the phone, but stopped and yelled at me, “Get your fat [expletive] home, I told your kid the dog wouldn’t hurt him!” I remember being stunned, since it had been a really long time since I was cussed out by someone face to face like that. Probably not since I was a teen. When this happened to me I was a minister’s wife, and a stay-at-home-mom, so I had not been around such crass behaviour in a long time. Now, I worked as a bartender and a waitress many years before that, so I have witnessed similar behavior before, just so you know, but when this happened I was quite insulated in my own little world, and it sure jarred me out of it! I was shocked for an instant. The next second I even felt like crying, which quickly passed. Then I was seething, literally, with anger. I could feel the adrenaline coursing through me. I wanted, in the flesh, to chew her up and spit her out and tell how low I thought she was. Instead I said something like, “Ma’am I wasn’t sure if you knew your dog was loose, and it did scare my son and I thought you should know.” It took every ounce of self-control I could muster to keep myself in check as I turned around and we walked home. I felt so humiliated and hurt. And angry, of course, very angry. In front my of my children! This woman cussed and insulted me in front of their innocent ears. I don’t think they ever saw adults acting that way before that. Whoever made up the “sticks and stones” chant many of us know from childhood was wrong. Calling people names can and does hurt. I knew my son was watching my response and I knew he was also upset and angry. When we were home I explained to him, because we’re Christians, we must never lash out in anger against someone who has lashed out at us. This was a prime example of Jesus’ teaching on turning the other cheek. Like Christian-the-blogger wrote in his piece, I was also compelled to feel pity for this person. How sad her first instinct was not to care for a fellow human, a child, or to engage in kind of peaceful discussion, but to lash out hatefully. Instead of being responsible and considerate in her little corner of the world she acted maliciously. People who are that miserable and hateful are to be pitied. So, I was able to use this situation to teach and reinforce some good virtues, that surely would have been lost if he witnessed his mom in a screaming match or cat-fight. I knew my son was upset, but he seemed to understand my explanation and accept it. A few years later when I was teaching a youth class at church, which my son happened to be in, I was able to use this as an example to them of how important it is to react peacefully, as Jesus would, rather than repay an insult for an insult. I think he understood it all better then. My heart goes out to Christian-the-blogger, I can imagine that a punch would have amplified my feelings, and I commend him for keeping a level head and a Christ-like attitude. It’s very difficult, but essential for a anyone who calls themselves a Christian to not repay evil for evil. I think God allows these things to happen to us so that we can see exactly where we are in of faith-walk with Him, and also to know what it’s like to suffer, as Jesus did. This helps us to understand the depth of what He did when He suffered and died for us, and it helps us to be compassionate to others who have suffered, because we know what it’s like.

If I Don't Play Piano, Sing In the Choir or Teach Sunday School What Do I Do?

Is it selfish that I am not completely immersing myself in ministry and related things here at the new church? What I am immersing myself in is getting back into creative and other interests of mine. However, I find myself feeling a little bit of guilt. I became a Christian sometime in 1993 and followed right along side my husband as he received a calling on his life; accepted it and held various ministry positions (as did I) and ultimately he became a pastor. During that time I felt like my main focus in life was family first, and then always something to do with ministry, and I loved it. I just feel that I am in a different mode right now. I have felt a growing conviction over the years that it was time to use whatever artistic talent I had as a ministry of sorts before I got any older. (Use it or lose it, baby!) So here I am. I have not done anything much as the Pastor’s Wife, and don’t plan to until I’m absolutely sure God has called me to it. I do feel sure God has called me to start doing art again, and so I will. I’m not sure where that will lead and how it will go but I’m glad to do it. I look at our other ministry friends and read the blogs of other Christians and see how on fire they are and how focused they are on being missional, outreaching, with missions to inner cities and/or other countries, being prayer warriors, evangelizers, etc., and I wonder about myself. Am I missing it? Did I get burnt out and grow so cool I can't or won't do my part to be God's hand of mercy extended? It seems so selfish to do something that isn’t direct spiritual warfare or for the greater good of others. Of course I can always do both creative things and ministry things and there will be times where that blends and overlaps. It’s just that now I feel a time to pause from the one to reclaim the other, if that makes sense. So, that is what I am reflecting on these days.
If I Don't Play Piano, Sing In the Choir or Teach Sunday School What Do I Do? Draw, paint, plan, cut, paste, photograph…

Movin' On

My goal was to do one post a week, but I have not done that lately. We are in the process of moving and when I get set up in our new location, I will begin again.

This is not only a hectic time, but an emotional one. Our 'old church' is like family, and was so much a part of our daily life. It was our first pastoral position, and we were there seven complete years. I say “our” because even though Big Daddy was the pastor, his family labored in that vineyard right along side him. We all certainly will miss our dear, dear church family at Harvest. We are also moving away from our relatives. That will be difficult since my Mom and brother are local as well as Big Daddy’s brother and his family. His youngest sister and her family also live nearby, however we are estranged from them. It is unfortunate that this move will likely advance the estrangement rather than remedy it. Then there are our neighbors, co-workers and friends - so many good people to miss! They all have been a blessing to us, making our lives interesting, colorful and fun. We look forward to the change, the new life, the new ministry, church and home, but it is bittersweet. These are the things I have been thinking about. I will miss swimming in the local springs, canoeing down the rivers. I will like swimming and canoeing in the gulf and the Atlantic, though. So, Big Daddy really is my moving buddy, and has been many times. We have lived in our current home for about eight years and that is the longest I personally have lived anywhere in a single location. I hope to put down some roots in the keys, I like sand between my toes! Will I grow best in sandy soil? Stay tuned.

Happy Places, Happy Faces

"My happy place"

"I found my moving buddy"


Big Daddy and I have been together so long we have a few little inside jokes between us. That comes from a few shared experiences. When our oldest child was little we had to watch Toy Story many, many times. There are two quotes we say to each other. The first is, “I found my moving buddy.” If you know the movie as well as we do you recall that this is said by the character Bo-Peep, after she and all the other toys witness a cool stunt soon after they meet Buzz. We say this to each other when either one of us is particularly pleased with the other. The other quote is when the character Hamm(?) is scared or nervous and he keeps repeating, “Find your happy place, find your happy place!” to himself. Whenever we see a nice bit of scenery, or find ourselves someplace nice and relaxing, I tell Big Daddy, “This is my happy place.”
Naturally that's what I thought of when I saw these two photos we took recently in the Keys.

The Journey's End

I’m told it’s not uncommon to be reading and studying a passage of scripture, only to have one part that strikes you in a particularly important way. This happens to me, the Caleb's Spirit post below is an example of it. Perhaps you're reading a very familiar passage and you never noticed a certain word or detail before. Perhaps the phrasing speaks to your heart in a fresh, new way. Something like this happened to me again recently. I have been studying using my parallel Bible which has a KJV, NKJV, NLT and NIV all side by side in columns. I was reading 2 Corinthians 11:26. The KJV says “…in journeying often…” but the one that I noted was the NLT where St. Paul says: “I have traveled many weary miles.” This portion of scripture didn’t jump out at me, as the saying goes, but it did wave its hand and say, “Hey there! Take a look at me.” I don’t presume to even compared myself to the Apostle Paul, who wrote that verse under the Holy Spirit’s anointing. St. Paul is speaking of all the hardships that happened to him while he traveled and preached the Gospel of Christ. It’s in his list of the difficulties he endured. I haven’t even experienced a FRACTION, no correct that, a HINT of what Paul faced in his journeys on behalf of Jesus. But I have gone some weary miles in my own little way. Like St. Paul’s list, I have my own list of bad things and difficulties God has brought me through. And I am so grateful to Him. My list is mild compared to St. Paul’s. My list and my weary journeys are just as worth it though if the end result is pointing others to Christ and being in His Glorious Presence one day! I think that if Paul can endure all he did and comment so strongly on how God’s grace is sufficient; and how everything is worth the trouble with heaven as our goal and Jesus as our King, I can too. And so can you, whoever you are!

In this life you will undoubtedly travel some weary miles. They may be literal, they may be figurative or both. We can be taught and inspired by those who have gone before us - Jesus through Calvary; and those like Paul, through persecution and hardships. They endured it all realizing that at the end of the long, weary journey is victory - the Resurrection; and also a refreshing and a party, a feast as we attend the marriage supper of the Lamb of God!
Spurgeon said, “This fact, that men shall partake of the marriage supper of the Lamb, might seem too good to be true if it were not specially certified by order of the Lord, under the hand and seal of the Spirit of God.”
An old hymn goes like this:
“Oh I want to see Him
Look upon His face
There to sing forever
Of His saving grace
On the streets of glory
Let me lift my voice
Cares all past
Home at last
Ever to rejoice!”

I hope to see you there!