360, Yours Truly

Do, A New!

2010-10-27T11:50:00.006-04:00

Most of the time, what we see is what we get.

Oftentimes, what we see is what we would like to be getting.

Other times, we are too stinking blinded by the warm and twinkly, sparkly lights to actually see anything much at all.

More often than we'd like to admit, we're basically sitting in the dark, as if at a standstill due to night blindness, and for some reason, we seem to prefer this diminishing darkness. Sometimes we're like vampires, blinded by the light of a new day.

I'm talking about why we tend to stay in the comfort of the same old same old, doing the same old thing, watching the same old shows, eating the same old food and pretty much committing without ever thinking, to doing the same old thing again, tomorrow and the day after that, too.

Remember when Forest Gump said, "Life is like a box of chocolates_ you never know what you are going to get." Let's face it, for many of us, that sounded like a thrill because instead of taking the plunge and diving into a box of delightfully exciting, mixed-box of confections, we're holding tightly to the same old box of chocolate covered cherries because that's what we know we like!

Nothing against chocolate covered cherries, but there are no surprises in a box filled row after predictable row, with chocolate covered cherries.

We're creatures of habit, or at least I can say for a fact, I am. I must admit that I like chocolate covered cherries_ even those cheap ones you can buy at Walgreens.

(Ouch.)

Okay, I'll get to the point since I am the one pecking away at the keyboard right now even though I have a list of twenty or so same old things I'm supposed to be doing at this very moment.

Anyhow.

I'm finding myself at this point in my years (don't ask _ that's rude) getting real with both the good and bad of days gone by and unfortunately, I'm having to acknowledge that much of what has gone by has looked an awful lot like every other day before it.

Day in, day out_ lots and lots of the same.

Then, I get honest with myself and say,

"Is this what I want the tally page to look like at the end of my game? "

"No", I declare, "not in the least!"

So, what's a girl, uh..., to do?

Well, for starters, here's a list of 26 possibilities:

A. Turn over a new leaf.

B. Embark on a new journey.

C. Paint a new picture.

D. Write a new story.

E Sing a new song.

F. Listen to a new song.

G. Pray a new prayer.

E. Ask a new question.

G. Discover a new answer.

H. Give a new effort.

I. Invest in a new friendship.

J. Reach out to a new neighbor.

K. Believe in a new possibility.

L Bury an old hatchet.

M. Bury all hatchets once and for all.

N. Brave a new adventure.

O. Bite off a new challenge.

P. Try a new workout.

Q. Toss out that stuff at the tippy top of the closet.

R. Read a new author.

S. Sort through the bottom of that closet mess, too.

T. Try a new recipe.

U. Find a new inspiring tweeter to follow.

V. Take a walk in a new park.

W. Dance in the living room all by myself.

X. Read a new comic strip and laugh at a new joke.

Y. Drink a tall glass of water in a fancy glass and take a deep breath.

Z. Try a new coffee at Starbucks.

Maybe, just maybe, I can wrestle with my same old twenty-four hour budget and
allow myself at least 15 minutes a day
to try something,
anything,
new.

How about you?

He Does

2010-10-20T12:18:00.010-04:00

It was Monday night, a few minutes after dinner and still just a little too early for Joe to start surfing the channels to catch his favorite pre-game antics. We talked awhile and I mentioned I had DVR'd an interesting message by Author/Speaker John Eldredge. You might be familiar with him from a popular book he wrote called Wild At Heart.

Anyhow, what I had heard him talk about had made a lasting impression, so naturally, I had to tell Joe.

He'd mentioned that we often only consult God with the big dramatic stuff like, should I marry this guy, buy this house, sell everything and go to China, take that new job?

Imagine talking to someone only about major decisions. Not much of a relationship, right?

He'd also said, the other side of that are those who ask God all sorts of things throughout the day, you know, typical life stuff like,
be with my kids as they go through their day...
help me figure out how to make ends meet...
make all of my aches and pains go away, please?

We ask God about big and small things and we expect answers and then when whatever we've asked comes to be or not to be, based on outcome, we evaluate as to whether God actually heard us, or not. Usually, we base our belief regarding God's listening/answering skills on whether or not things turned out like we had wanted, all the while questioning, does He really hear me?

You get the idea.

John's message was this, if you are wondering if God hears you and are wondering if you can actually hear back from God in response, try this for yourself.

There's a simple question to ask.

In order to find out for yourself if God does, in fact, hear you and not only hears you, but talks back, try this simple prayer.

In the quietness of your heart, ask this question, "Jesus, do you love me?"

Go ahead. Be quiet with your thoughts for a few minutes and ask the question.

"Jesus, do you love me?"
Did you hear Him? He does.
Pretty cool, right?
The Creator of the Universe picks up His calls.

Below is a link to one of my all time favorite Tommy Walker songs done in a James Taylor-ish, Dillon-ish, unplugged style. The video is a little rough but the verses that are shown at the opening of the song are empowering.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gBmtGSuw04Y

Crash, Burn or Not

2010-10-07T11:23:00.009-04:00

Remember This?

Al and Tipper Gore announce separation...

The high school sweethearts, married for 40 years, say it's 'a mutual and mutually supportive decision. Friends and associates seem shocked.

Reporting from Washington — — They were the happy exceptions — high school sweethearts whose passionate romance led to a famously stable marriage in a capital perpetually rocked by tawdry scandals and sleazy affairs.

But less than a month after they marked their 40th wedding anniversary, former Vice President and Nobel Peace Prize laureate Al Gore and his wife, Tipper, announced they were breaking up. From June 02, 2010|By Bob Drogin and Kathleen Hennessey, Los Angeles Times

Sure, it's been a few months since this bit of news burst my bubble but I'll never forget that pit in my stomach feeling after first reading about the separation of Al and Tipper Gore. Maybe I'm alone here, but a separation after 40 years of marriage just seems soooo tragic. I mean, that's a really long time.

I can't help but ask myself, were they ever really happy during those forty years or was it all just a matter of convenience, appearances or routine?

Whatever the reason, this particular separation news sincerely left me incredibly disappointed.

F o r t y y e a r s of togetherness ending in an I don't want to do this anymore parting of the ways has me scanning through my own blissful marital years and rating each one on a scale of 1 to 10, a bit like I tend to rate each consecutive daring bout on my favorite thrill ride, The Hulk, a twisting, looping roller coaster at Universal Studios Island of Adventure's Theme Park, here in Orlando.

Just hearing that such a seemingly perfect, and dare I say, down right picturesque looking couple losing control of the big round wheel, veering over way too far and blowing out a tire after so many years of keeping it on the road, well, a fairly happily married person such as myself can't help but be a little shaken, can they? What exactly does this sort of so far into it type of failed marriage stuff mean for the naive little creatures like me who just recently did a fully evolved happy dance in celebration of my comparatively brief but definitely significantly triumphant twenty-two year marital run?

Allow me to clarify, I'm not a bumper sticker blazing, Gore-Groopy or anything. I originally just made a mental note of the couple because they had appeared to be genuinely united, close, you know, admirably devoted through thick and thin alike. Heck, didn't I even see them together on Oprah just a short while ago? That's some serious couple history. If I'm remembering correctly, together they've managed the depths of grief, weathered the waves of personal loss, illness, political defeat, public scrutiny and somehow amazingly never seemed to allow any of it to stop them from moving ahead as a team_ until now, or, so it seemed.

Mostly I'm thinking that this should remind me that everything in life must be approached one day at a time.

If today is good, then, by all means celebrate it and if today isn't what you'd like it to be, well, I'll get to that in a minute, but do, do, do celebrate the good days that you get when you get them_ d o n 't
w a i t!

Next, I'm thinking that maybe I'm suppose to be sure to pay close attention to both the small and large stuff that each day at a time brings because, eventually, everything counts.

Sometimes, I must admit, I don't want to deal with so much stuff so I find a quick and easy way to put it away, trying my best to keep the playing field tidy_ Joe and I both tend to prefer a tidy field, certifiable neat freaks that we are, and all. But seriously, if someone can cram a closet to the brim and overflow a fridge and pantry to the degree that I seem to accomplish in my effort of at least maintaining a tidy-ish looking field, my thinking being that what you can't see at least can't trip you, well, I'm no PHD or anything, but I'm guessing that same someone could quite possibly cram potentially toxic feelings and frustrations away just as well as the next 'happy-clam' and, from what I'm understanding Dr. Phil and all of the many other published marriage counselors of the world to be saying at the moment, cramming unaddressed emotions away is bad, r e a l b a d.

So, out with it, I say, get those thoughts and feelings out of cold storage and pay attention to the good and bad that is happening right now rather than stuffing it away in an already full closet of unmentionables or avoiding it via any other get your life organized and looking good on the outside, issue skipping, keep my life looking as rich and fulfilling as the Jones - method of choice.

Finally, maybe more than anything else, I am no longer under the illusion that either Joe or myself are psychic.

I am responsible to make my thoughts, feelings needs and everything else hiding in the bathwater known to my partner in life just like he is the only one who can let me know how all of the everyday life stuff is honestly jiving with him. LIke I've said, this whole Al and Tipper thing caught me totally off guard, so, as well as I think I may know this guy I've been living with for the past 22 years, I must hereby confess, super powers or not, I cannot read his mind. That reality unveiled, I recognize that I must make every effort to keep the lines of good ol' communication, open. Concerns left unspoken in marriage are as lethal as a secret diet of daily Big Macs. Eventually it all comes out and, oh brother, just like the waistline of a daily Mac eater, it can be ugly.

Like I typically reflect following nearly all of my fear defying jaunts on The Hulk, I look back on my ever eventful marriage experience and say,

"Amazing! Sure, we've had our share of ups and downs and even some frighteningly rough patches but, wow, let's do it again!"

While my own twenty-two years and counting marital thrill ride has occasionally been more than a little bit jarring, has come frighteningly close to derailing once or twice and gone so far as to have taken my breath away in both good and not so good ways, all in all, I'm glad that Joe and I took the plunge back in the late eighties. I'm happy to report that the overall wedded bliss ride, like most on The Hulk, fairly consistently rates somewhere between a well intended high 7 and a glorious, triumphant 10.

Not too, shabby.

Okay, there is that one time when, against my better judgement, I rode The Hulk right after a rather large lunch which was a HUGE mistake, so, every adventurous wild ride hasn't exactly left me wanting to hightail it back to the beginning of the ever winding, unbelievably long and time absorbing waiting line, giddy for more. Still, given enough time for lunch to settle, more often than not, I'm happy to get back in line, eagerly anticipating the chance to embrace every dip and gravity defying whirl, just one more time.

Ready or not, twenty-three years, here I, I mean, we, come.

Hey, that's cool... twenty-three happens to be one of my all time favorite numbers.

I wonder what forty meant to the Gore's?

On second thought, maybe I don't want to know.

Pillow Rock

2010-04-20T09:54:00.005-04:00

So often I'm blown away by God's timing.

Yesterday a conversation with my Mom led to an explanation of sorts describing a current spiritual place that I seem required to call home.

This morning, an email from a dear friend described a very similar spiritual location which made me pause for a moment and say, "Well Hello, God. It seems you've been here, all along."

There are times in life when you may look around and question as to how God could be an integral part of any of it because absolutely nothing in your life seems to be working out for the good of anybody, much less for the good of the God you claim to serve. Maybe nothing is going according to plan.

The truth is, sometimes when it all seems to be going south or possibly even going so nowhere that you can literally visualize yourself as sitting on the side of the road in a humiliating and frustrating full blown stall, God may be incredibly near.

This curbside place I am in has left me quieted, which if you know me very well, is a bit of a surprise. Typically, describe a problem or situation and given the think on your feet sort of person that I am, I'll quickly provide at least five solid possibilities for perfectly reasonable resolve. I am a thinker/dreamer and I love to address uncertainty with a repertoire of creative problem solving.

Lately, tell me a problem and I'll meander for a second or so in my thoughts to the familiar place of five possible answers but then I step back, let go and tell God that while I see these five choices before me, I am certain that he sees way beyond my own limited vision. For every five answers I can think of, I'm quite sure that God has at least fifteen bazillion or so better options that I have yet to recognize.

Believe me, this step back and wait disposition is not exactly a natural inclination for me in the least. But lately, I am intentionally letting go of what I see as a solution and saying to God, "Sure, I see some possibilities here, Lord, but aside from my own thinking, I'd really like to know what you think and I'd like nothing more than to see the ocean of possibilities that you see."

If you are finding yourself in a place of questioning what in the world you are supposed to be doing and why in the world hasn't this or that worked out the way you had expected, I ask you to remember the story of Jacob and his famous dream of the stairway to heaven where he saw angels climbing up and down between heaven and earth.

When Jacob awoke from the stairway dream he said, "Surely the Lord is in this place, and I was not aware of it! How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God; this is the gate of heaven." Genesis 28.

Dear God,

On that inspiring dream filled night, Jacob had rested his head on nothing more than a rock.

Here I am finding myself in this sort of spiritual productivity wasteland compared with attractive opportunities I've seen in the past and as my aching neck can testify, it definitely feels that lately, my pillow has been something of a rock, too.

I want you to know that I am satisfied with this between a rock and a hard place position that I am in because I am confident that you God, see the intended outcome and all of the roads that lead to the final destination that you have planned for me.

I am good with you taking the driver's seat.

It's funny, it seems I'm finding myself sitting in the passenger seat more and more often.

As I ride along with my baby girl in the driver's seat while trying so intentionally to let her identify what is going on and gain a sense of her own ability to navigate traffic, I am reminded of how I need to let go of the wheel of my own destiny and allow you, the one who sees and knows all, to do the real decision making and mountain moving in my life.

Thank you for friends who are honest with me and share what they are going through so that I can better see my own situation as it really is. My life is a place where you can be found whenever I take the time to find you. Even in the shadows, I soon realize that I find you as my single source of light.

Be with my friend who emailed me this morning. For all who struggle to connect the dots in this moment, remind them that you will without doubt, fear or compromise, complete the lovely, one of a kind picture of who they are intended to be. You are the ultimate artist and your work always creates something beautiful.

Left to my own devices, I may look in the mirror and see an old dilapidated house in need of extensive work and repair. But as you look at me, even in this place of uncomfortable stillness that I find myself to be, you may just see a delightful farmhouse with the potential to house, restore and feed many. You may even see this old house of a self as a future exclusive resort destination like the bountiful Blackberry Farm in Tennessee. I'd love to be as spiritually productive as a prosperous farm.

So, where I find myself standing today is holy, because I know that you are with me.

You work in ways I cannot understand and your intentions for all who love you are only for good.

Thank you for your love.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WsoiI8XhpmY

Friday had a family FAIL

2010-04-19T16:44:00.000-04:00

Could You Repeat That Please?

2010-04-15T10:14:00.009-04:00

Have you ever started reading and saying to yourself, "Wow, what timing! This is exactly what I needed to hear..." only to realize that you are actually rereading something that you have somehow forgotten that you read just a day or two before?

Yeah, I didn't think so.

Nice.

Anyhow, this morning I reread a devotional excerpt that I had read just a few days before and didn't catch that I was rereading the excerpt from Monday or Tuesday until I was more than a paragraph or two into it and yet somehow, it seemed to be just what the doctor ordered, for today.
So, I continued to reread the entire entry.

The thoughts were taken from John 11:21 where we read that Martha said to Jesus,

"Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died."

You see, when Martha and Mary's brother Lazarus had become ill, word had been sent to Jesus saying that the one that he loves, is sick! The sisters had sent these words to Jesus anticipating that Jesus would drop what he'd been doing, come to them and that their brother would be healed, but Jesus had done nothing that they'd expected when he received the tragic news. In fact, Jesus showed up four days after the funeral! Their Lord had let them down.

The girls probably felt a little angry, disappointed and possibly even began to question why they had bothered to send word to Jesus in the first place. They had believed that Jesus would come to their rescue but it seemed he had blown the chance to be there for them in the hour when they had needed him most. But now comes the amazing part of the story. The miracle that they had wanted to receive would actually grow pale in comparison to the one that they would get to receive.

Jesus stood in front of the tomb and told them to roll away the stone and called for Lazarus, smelly old burial clothes and all, to come forth. After having been dead for four days, Lazarus woke to life.

When we pray, sometimes the circumstances of need that we bring to God in prayer seem to have only one good possible outcome and we wrap the entirety of our thinking around that one possibility that we can imagine helping our situation. Sometimes, our prayers are not answered as we would like and we say to our disillusioned selves that maybe God doesn't care or maybe he never even heard us to begin with and we then begin to doubt the purpose of anything and everything that we've ever experienced in our faith life and we slowly begin drifting away from God. After all, if he's there and if he really holds everything in the palm of his hand and has the power to move mountains, why doesn't he just fix every broken thing that we bring to him?

When Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead many hearts were stirred and some who had not believed that he was who he said he was, began to believe. A sick young man recovering might have been just another take two aspirin and call me in the morning type of healing news while someone being brought back to life, well, that was undeniably head turning and if you ask me, quite faith affirming.

Sometimes our boxed in God has a big picture plan that our minimum faith charged minds can often not even begin to imagine.

Dear God, Sometimes I pray to you and I line up all of the requests and I line up all of the possible solutions to the requests and I pretty much might as well say to you that this prayer that I am praying is multiple choice. "Here you go, God, I've made it easy for you. Pick A, B,C or D and please do that within the time frame allotted for this test so that your answer will receive the credit it's due and boy, oh boy, God, will I ever give you the glory for the whichever right choice that you chose!"

Sometimes, God, I'm just so silly. I put you in a box with a snug fitting lid and in the same breath say that you are awesome, that you exceed my expectations and that you are all knowing and all powerful.

I'm sorry that I do that to you, God. You are awesome, you are amazing and all powerful and though I do not always understand why some of the things that seem as if they should work out the way that I can recognize as being good completely fail to come to be, I trust that you have an answer to every problem that will outshine even the very best possible, first choice scenario. If I just trust that you will always do what is best for everyone, eventually, then I will get to see how incredibly amazing you really are and more than likely, so will somebody else who also needs to see.

By the way, thanks for giving me another day with yet another chance to understand your often mysterious, but oh so wonderful and ultimately loving, ways.

If you have a moment, click the link below and read John, Chapter 11 and allow God to give you your own very personal insight through the story of Lazarus. If you'd like, there's a fun song to click on from a band, Modest Mouse, called, "One Chance" that always makes me think of how I need to let God be God sometimes and take the lid off of the box that I so often tend to tuck him into.

This song from Modest Mouse isn't a Christian song or anything, but God often uses music, art, story lines and everything else I'd never expect to speak to my heart.
God knows no limits.
God is box-less.

http://www.newadvent.org/bible/joh011.htm
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fVSbZL9ToQM

Smallish Stuff

2010-04-13T10:45:00.004-04:00

This morning I sense God trying to get my attention_ hoping to get me to focus on some of the overlooked little things in my life.

Come to think of it, I've spent a whole heck of a lot of energy trying to relax and NOT sweat the small stuff so I'm wondering why I feel the need to shuffle through and bypass the obvious big stuff that needs attending to and crawl around to find all of those pesky little, small things.

I have a confession - I hate dealing with the little stuff.

The nitty gritty things that make the world go around bore me to death!

Detail oriented? Uh, no_ NOT ME!

It's kind of funny, on the outside, people usually take me as being fairly organized. I must give off that vibe of having it all together. :o) Heh-heh-heh... I always feel a little uneasy when this one or that one toots my horn on the subject of organization but I rarely fess-up to being the mess that I really think that I am.

(All of you who are reading who really, really know me - be quiet! Let me bask in the warmth of what some may actually believe for another uneasy minute or two.)

Seriously, while I can throw a mean dinner party and set a table that might be leaning a little towards the artsy, Martha so fabulous side of entertaining, when it comes to the stuff like did I send in my payment for our Fast Company magazine subscription or was that Rachel Ray's Everyday that I just mailed last week, I'm at a loss most of the time.

I'm terrible with names, too. Tomorrow night my family and I will be dining at Wolfgang Puck's in Downtown Disney meeting my niece and her fella whom I've yet to meet for the first time and I am already practicing his name so I don't have to make up an on the spot nickname for him in a conversational pinch. His name is Todd, I keep saying to myself. Todd, Todd, Todd.

Yes, I'm really that bad and you know what? I'm getting tired of myself in reference to this unorganized issue and I'm pretty sure that God might be getting a bit worn down by my scattered ways, too.

So, with God's help, because I am asking him in just a few seconds, I know that I can conquer this silly below the radar absentmindedness and look forward to a future with less small stuff to worry about because finally, I will have addressed the small stuff and it will be completely out of my life rather than hastily shoved away in our office closet.

Dear God.

Sometimes I am just blown away by how long I can put little things off or barely scrape by but I am confiding in you that I am tired of that part of myself and I see the need to ask for your help and make a much needed change.

I don't expect to suddenly morph into Martha herself, having every single dry good in my pantry housed in identical glass jars with shiny brushed nickel lids, but I do want to be free enough of mind clutter that I can count on myself to accomplish the meaningful things like being able to remember the name of the next new person that I meet for more than a millisecond.

I don't know what you have planned for me in the future but I'm pretty sure that whatever it is, you'd like me to be at my very best so that I can do whatever it is that you have me to do with honor and dignity so that I can ultimately bring glory to you.

I know I'll never be perfect in this life but I'm sure that there's plenty of room for improvement and I thank you for bringing these small things to my attention.

It's going to take a few days to even get a handle on the many smallish things that need to be done around here, but I'm all in, God, or in this case, maybe I'm laying it all out.

Fresh Bread Daily

2010-04-07T09:49:00.012-04:00

A funny thing happened in the midst of making dinner last night...

Iz (my husband's nickname) would be getting home from the office a little later than usual so preparing dinner was put off until a bit later than usual, too. With a few extra minutes to spare during the early evening I'd tried calling my Mom a couple of times, just to say hello and see how she's feeling this week, but her line had been busy so I busied myself with a few household chores.

After tossing in another load of laundry and emptying the dishwasher, at around seven or so, I put on the water to begin cooking our new favorite, whole wheat, pasta. It was especially great kitchen time because while chopping some garlic for the quick, semi homemade sauce on the menu, I talked with Mike who was unwinding a bit, playing XBox in the adjoining family room. I cherish whatever time I get to have talking with my kids.

Just after I removed the pasta from the stove and drained it, Bear-bear (our beloved four-legger) barked his most intense wake up entire world, can't you see that somebodies at the door, bark.

Startled and a little bugged by being interrupted at such a crucial time during pasta dinner making, (you know how the pasta keeps cooking and begins sticking together like a pasty mess if you don't get it drained and tossed with some olive oil or sauce, right away) I begrudgingly peeked my head around the kitchen entry to steal a look towards the front door as to determine which of the kids needed to stop what they were doing to meet and greet the untimely visitors.

My stolen peek left me wondering what was going on through the frosted glass as all that I could make out from where I was standing were three unfamiliar, adult figures.

Grabbing Bear-bear's collar, he and I tripped and scurried anxiously towards the strangers at our door.

With Bear-bear's head peeking out between my legs and the doorframe though firmly blocked from going any further to 'greet' the visitors by my strategically placed protruding right leg, I put on my nicest smile that one digs out from storage for all such stranger meeting circumstances. The folks at the door, one woman and two men of varying ages, wore their very best, let's dazzle the stranger, smiles, too.

Once confirming that I was the correct Renee who had filled out a visitor card,"Trinity", the man in the front continued, "You visited Trinity Church last week and we're stopping by to say thank you for visiting and hoping to talk awhile with you and your husband in order to answer any questions you may want to ask about the church."

While saying his greeting, the front man held out a white plastic grocery bag that had the church's logo neatly printed on it, as if the church were a huge chain like Winn Dixie, Publix or Walmart. The bag had a neat little card attached with curly red ribbon, adorned with that same logo and a tastefully printed word or two thanking us for visiting the church.

Exuding pleasantries the best I could while greeting unexpected strangers at the door,
holding back my kill them with love dog,
wanting desperately for Iz to pull in the driveway to rescue me
while imagining my pasta now resembling something similar to the surface of the moon,
I chatted away with the bag holding visitors.

I assured them that we were planning to visit again as we are in search of a better fitting church for us, one more like the one my husband and I were raised in. I told them how much we had enjoyed the services we've attended so far and that we were definitely planning to attend this week, too.

The woman in the group said they should let me get back to my dinner and assured the men that it was a bad time to visit when someone is in the midst of preparing dinner and that they needed to let me get back to what I'd been doing before they'd arrived.

After closing the door, the kids were waiting for me when I returned to the kitchen, loaded with fifty questions re the visit. We opened the bag to find a beautifully presented fresh loaf of what I think is referred to as potato bread, it's the kind that has that lovely soft white dusting of flour over the top of the golden brown crust.

Prior to the visit the bread for our dinner was going to be finishing off the perhaps a little bit on the stale side but still edible, wholewheat loaf I'd sliced and taken with us to the beach two days earlier. Following the visit, we would be eating soft and squishy, just like Iz and Mike prefer it, freshly baked, beautiful bread. (Sydney and I are partial to bread that has a crusty outer edge that adds a little crunch.)

What's so big about a loaf of bread showing up at dinnertime and when in the world am I going to get to the point of why I'm sharing this story with you?

Well, for one thing, God knows what we need and sometimes he provides what we need as literally as this loaf of fresh bread showing up at my house while I'm setting the table for a later than usual, pasta dinner. Sometimes God does things that are incredibly timed and instantly gratifying, like front door delivery of freshly baked bread.

Next, the reason Joe and I are planning on returning to this church is due to the love we sensed among the church members and this bread drop was another example of the kindnesses we saw happening at the church. Before, during and after the service, people were hugging, smiling, waving across the room and huddling together as if everyone actually enjoyed the company of the other. Young, old and everyone in between seemed to be included in the love fest and quite a few people even extended their hand to us to say hello and they seemed to be doing so because they wanted to rather than because they knew it was the 'right' thing to do.

Finally, Iz and I both had walked away from the service we had visited at Trinity feeling spiritually met in a way that I believe every human being has a humongous hunger for. It's an indescribable type of hunger other than that it is this type of hunger that can be satisfied for a moment but quickly leaves you wanting to grab a fresh plate and head up to get a second helping, kind of like I always feel after eating Chinese food, I'm full for a while but can always find room to eat just a little bit more.

Thank you, God,

for the intricate yet simple ways

that you embed your presence in the days

of those who express

their desire for more of you.

Today, declare this: I’ve made up my mind I am not going to waste any of my days. I’m going to celebrate each day as a gift from God. Joel Osteen

What's God Got To Do With it?

2010-04-06T09:56:00.005-04:00

NBC News statistics: The average adult has a 50/50 chance of surviving a 50-yard swim or 50 minutes in 50-degree water.

It was during this past Easter weekend that two year old Bridgette fell 20 feet into New York's East River's, 48-degree waters. Rescued by her father and a mystery Frenchman who left in a cab upon exiting the water, Bridgette survived the potential tragedy without injury.

As for the Dad's response to the incident, I'm not surprised.

My kids are eighteen and fifteen years old and if they took an accidental plunge into threatening waters you would have to hold me back to keep me from jumping in after them even though I would describe myself as only an average swimmer. Just the thought of my kids being in harms way pushes a button that defies all common sense. I know what I'm saying on this subject because I've been put to the test. An adult male neighbor had his fist raised in Mike's face a few years back, without any hesitation I slid between the angry man and my son with absolute disregard for the likelihood that I, myself, could be hit. Thankfully, nobody was physically harmed in that ridiculous episode though the thought of the man's fist in my son's face, as well as my own, still haunts me.

The response of the mysterious Frenchman is not as easily understood. The freezing cold water could quickly have taken his life. Had the father of the child began struggling himself while trying to save his daughter, the Frenchman could have ended up not only unable to assist in the situation but could have lost his own life, too.

The Frenchman did not know the child and apparently had no ties to anyone at the scene, yet he unquestionably risked his own life for that of another.

I share this story because it made me consider my own willingness to put myself on the line for a stranger.

I want to say that of course I would have jumped the twenty foot drop in selfless aid of the father and daughter.

I want to say that I would not have looked around before jumping in to see if someone else would rise to the occasion, first.

I want to say that the obvious frigid temperature of the water wouldn't have made me reconsider my first instinct to dive in and do what I could.

I'd love to be able to say all of those things but unfortunately, I honestly, cannot.

Since the identity of the Frenchman is unknown, the parents have no way to thank the stranger for his bravery nor do any of the rest of us.

Bridgette's mother was quoted as saying,

"I'd like to offer him my congratulations and best wishes, and I want to talk to him personally."

As for me, I would love to be able to tell the mysterious Frenchman how much his no questions asked actions were appreciated by everyone, but as for giving credit for the save, I believe the gratitude needs to go straight to the big guy_ God, himself.

For some reason, during this particular weekend, Easter weekend, these particular incidents happened at this particular place where the self sacrificing hero just happened to be.

Though not mentioned in any of the news briefs, I'm pretty sure that God was at the scene. Like that of the Frenchman, sometimes the acts of God are mysterious, too.

Dear God,

Thank you so much for orchestrating that act of selfless love this weekend and sparing the life of little Bridgette.

From having lost my almost one and a half year old son to cancer so many years ago, I know that you are with those parents who grieve the loss of a child. Still, for every parent spared that incomparable sorrow, I am indescribably grateful.

Thank you for the mystery Frenchman who reminded me of your own amazing and sometimes mysterious ways.

http://buzz.yahoo.com/buzzlog/93542

Perspective Improved!

2010-04-05T10:00:00.002-04:00

How was your Easter? Did you spend time celebrating with family and friends?

Yesterday, my family and I celebrated Easter in a nontraditional manner. Since moving to Florida six years ago, quite a few of our holidays have landed us on the nontraditional side of festivities. Part of that is due to not living near family. Our closest relative is my brother John and his family who live about four hours or so south of us, near Miami.

Whatever the reason for our nontraditional holiday festivities, I believe this change from tradition has brought Joe, Mike, Sydney and myself, closer. When the holidays approach, we start discussing how we'd like to spend the day as there are no extended family dinners to attend, no in-laws to please. After agreeing on the how, what and where, we each gear up for a day of what usually turns out to be a simple and hassle free, pure good time. Yesterday was a perfect example of our new and improved, nontraditional holiday observance.

We've enjoyed previous Easter's, Father's Days, Mother's Days, Christmas Eve's and NewYears at various attractions like Downtown Disney, Universal Studios, Sea World, Islands of Adventure, City Walk and New Smyrna Beach, and given this previous experience with varied ways of celebrating, we knew exactly how we preferred to spend this Easter. We decided once again to forgo the labor intensive traditional big dinner choosing instead to spend the afternoon relaxing together while enjoying a casual picnic at the beach. I'm happy to report that our nontraditional celebration of Easter Sunday was not a grain of sand less than absolutely wonderful.

I think the reason for the joy we experience in our nontraditional holidays is not so much about the lack of extended family to accommodate as it is in the decision we've made to focus on our sense of pleasure rather than appearances. Instead of planning our holiday activities based on what is expected, we now choose to listen to one another's particular needs for the day. This time, before the actual holiday arrived, I could tell that what the DeLeon family needed more than anything else was simply a little away from it all together time spent bumming on the beach, munching on our favorite eat at the beach foods while listening to the sound of the crashing east coast waves behind the bouts of laughter we would inevitably share.

By paying attention to what we really needed to do as a family to celebrate the precious resurrection of our Savior and Lord, Jesus Christ, we spent the day appreciatively basking in the gift of the life that we get to enjoy, today, and the promise of eternal life that we know we'll enjoy, later.

Dear God,
This is the final day of my thirty day journey of blogged prayer and I am overwhelmed by all that you've taught me in this short amount of focused time. Because of time spent with you each and everyday, I believe that I have a new sense of appreciation for the little things in life, a clarity of purpose in all that I do and an unwavering expectation of the enormous blessings I know that you have prepared for me in the future.

It is hard to explain the empowerment for living a good life that I now get to sincerely call my own. I see possibility where I once saw dead ends. I guess I can best describe what I am experiencing through this time with you as a genuine renewal of hope.

Before this journey I was low in spirit. I felt empty, somewhat lonely and honestly way too needy of approval and acceptance. Now, though I am constantly hungry to know more of you, I feel a sense of fullness in my life and a newfound ability to see your hand in the simplest of tasks and, because of that, I enjoy a unique sort of pleasure in my days, which I think can be best described as peace.

Today, on this last day of my thirty day blogged prayer journey, I find that my relationship with you means everything to me and that more than anything else, your approval is what I seek.

I know that I didn't happen upon this idea of blogged prayer all by myself. I know that you led me to this place because an intimate relationship with you is what you knew I needed. You saw my heart and you guided me towards a 'Y' in the road where I would have to decide if I were going to seek you out in a more personal way or continue on my path of simply just getting by...

I'm thankful that you guided me to this time of prayer and even more, I am thankful that you love me so much that you took the time to see where I was at and knock, once again, on the door of my heart.

In no way do I want to belittle my previous relationship with you because I am grateful for the foundation in faith that has served my spirit so graciously this far. I just want you to know, God, that I can tell the difference that talking with you each day, personally, using the same simple words and voice that I would speak with when talking to a close friend, makes everything in life look a whole lot greener over here on my side of the fence. The difference I sense in my life is so obvious that I could easily do one of infomercials where they make the boisterous claims of new and improved with the ultimate promise of a money back guarantee!

The way that I've been praying is similar to the way that my family and I now spend our holidays, as now that I think about it, blogged prayer time is definitely a nontraditional way of speaking with you. But through this nontraditional method, you've given me a perspective that, left to my own devices, I would never ever begin to see, much less, begin to understand.

Whatever is next, God, I'm ready. Thank you, so much for all you have given and as always, may this prayer be a blessing to someone else.

Easter Sunday - Twenty-nine

2010-04-04T19:11:00.004-04:00

No, I did not just turn twenty nine years old on Easter Sunday. Twenty-nine is referring to the fact that today is the twenty-ninth day of blogged prayer in my goal of a thirty day blogged prayer journey.

On the eve prior to my final day, I have to say that this is one of the most bittersweet goals I've ever accomplished. Yes, I'm happy to be nearing the thirtieth day successfully, but something inside of me is also, kind of, a little sad.

It's been an amazing nearly thirty days and while it's good to see the finish line in plain sight, my heart's eyes are looking beyond the ribbon, searching for what could, should or might happen next.

As I write this I know the answer to what is next for me. What's next is simply whatever God has in mind.

It all goes back to that trust thing I think he's been trying to get me to latch onto, I don't have to know much_ I just have to know that I know that God is always with me.

Dear God,
I have to say right away that you now have my full attention and I am so glad. These twenty-nine days have been an invaluable opportunity to dive a little deeper into the crazy way you've wired me and fortunately, I feel pleasantly surprised by what I have learned.

I now own completely... you definitely love me, just like you love everyone who looks for you and wants to know you more.

I now own completely... that you long to have me decide to spend time with you - special time that belongs only to speaking with you about whatever you've so kindly brought to my attention.

I now own completely... that there is nothing impersonal or distant about you, God. As near as I ask you to be, you generously are.

Without hesitation, reservation, doubt, fear or concern in the least, I look forward to tomorrow for I know that you are with me. For all of the tomorrows beyond day thirty, I wait expectantly on wherever you lead.

My greatest desire for this journey is that these prayers would reach beyond my own needs and somehow lead another hungry heart your way. I ask that anyone at all who has been moved or encouraged by this blogged prayer time might take this example as an invitation to begin their own personal time with you. You long to hear from each of us.

As for me, God, on day thirty and beyond, I will continue to talk with you and believe always that you will hear me. I know that I know, that you God, are with me.

Wherever I am and in all that I do, may my thoughts, words and actions be a delight to you.

The Bigger Picture

2010-04-03T15:14:00.003-04:00

Even though today is a day that acknowledges the time that Jesus spent in the grave before miraculously rising from the dead and returning to life in a supernatural form on what we now call Easter Sunday, I still consider this in between day a valuable part of my Easter celebration.

It isn't because of anything that's been overly discussed or anything, in fact it is what isn't said on this day that grabs my attention. On this barely recognized day that lingers between remembering the death of Jesus on Good Friday and the resurrection of Jesus on Easter Sunday, I'm reminded of the fact that all along, even during that grief filled day when the earth was dark and hopeless after the death of Jesus, God had a plan.

I'm celebrating today because through all of the terrible accusations and hate, brutality, false judgement, suffering and finally murder of an innocent man, the pieces of despair came together and turned out to end in a way that is now celebrated throughout our world as a day that God showed his undeniable power by conquering death!

All along, God had a plan. For all along, God knew that Jesus would rise from the grave and return to those who loved him and believed.

It helps me to know that there was that time of utter chaos to all who knew, believed and followed Jesus. They'd been completely brokenhearted and probably felt like giving up, and then he returned to them, just like he promised he would, even after dying an agonizing death before their tear filled eyes.

Ultimately, the blood that flowed from Jesus through his horrible death was part of the bigger picture that brought each of us who believe in him the ultimate promise of eternal life.

So, when life isn't going the way I think it should, I think of Jesus and the bigger picture plan that God had in mind for his son. I believe God has a unique and special purpose for every single one of us, including you, if you just choose to believe.

Dear God,
It's amazing to me the way that you are constantly giving me ideas of ways to describe what I believe.
I guess it is part of a bigger picture plan that you have for my life that I cannot fully recognize. I trust you though, even though I don't know the plans you have for me even as soon as next year.

I'm glad that you are now in the driver's seat of my life. For the first time, the unknown is actually beginning to seem sort of exciting to me.

Where will you take me next, God?

If I keep spending this time praying to you and asking you to be a part of every day from here on out, oh, the places I believe we will go....

I'm not bragging and you understand that because you know my heart, but I am confident that you have got something good in mind for my future because that is what it says about your intentions for those who love you and believe what is promised in the Bible. In the verse found in the book of Jeremiah, chapter 29, verse 11.

"...For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord,

"Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future..."

So, in continuing the celebration of this blessed Easter weekend on this 'in between it all day,' I observe this truth you've given me with an open and expectant heart.

You definitely know what you are doing, God, and wherever life may take me, I am completely thankful to get to go along on this ride.

Oh Good, it's Friday!

2010-04-02T13:08:00.006-04:00

If there were ever a day that grabs practically everyone's attention it would have to be Friday. If you don't agree, just take a peek at your FaceBook Newsfeed or a quick glance at Twitter. Everyone loves Friday and everybody, okay nearly everybody, agrees that there is something that's just downright good about it. As far as days of the week are concerned, Friday is for sure up there in my top three.

Everything in life has a way of speaking to us if we'd only listen and Friday, by just being Friday, has always had a great deal to share with me. On Friday, my kids get up for school with indescribable ease.
It seems that Friday mornings are somehow less likely to bring stomachaches, headaches or nagging sore throats_ no kidding, it's amazing how well bodied the DeLeon family seems to be on any given Friday.

On Friday, you see, there is this little promise of a good time that comes to us by way of Friday night. Sure, Saturday night has its perks and without a doubt, Saturday night has proved to be incredibly beneficial for John Travolta and the BeeGee's. Even so, Friday, for me, is usually more eagerly anticipated than Saturday has ever been.

This particular Friday is even more special because this Friday is Good Friday, the day that Jesus Christ, The Son of God, God himself wrapped in the flesh of humanity, humbly died on the cross in effort to offer a way for us to be forgiven of our sins.

Over the years, the importance of this day has grown tenfold for me because of this one thing,
God chose to send His Son, Jesus in human form so that we could have a clear picture that God wants to relate to us on our level.

He could have kept things distant, being all big up there in heaven, sending floods, parting seas and speaking through burning bushes. He could have stayed in his comfy lofty place and just told this one or that to spread this word or that to this one or that, but he didn't, he wanted to be down here with us. He wanted to be down here with us and show that he understands and feels, thinks, hurts, suffers, is tempted, tried, pushed and shoved, just like you and I.

So while Friday, in itself, is always a good day out of the seven that I've openly come to appreciate along with most of you, Good Friday is beyond compare. Through the sacrifice on the cross on Good Friday, God, through Jesus, said straight to my heart, Renee, I understand.

Dear God, I am so humbled by your love for us, that you would chose to exist in lowly human form just because you want so desperately for us to know that you know.

Thank you for the sacrifice of Jesus that tells me that you will know no boundary when it comes to making yourself an approachable God who cares about all of the things that way heavy on my heart.

If there is ever a day with an undeniable promise of something better to come for those who believe in you and receive your love into their heart, today is it. Because of the gift of your sacrifice on this historic day, we each have the freedom that comes through complete forgiveness and a personal relationship with you.

Thank you, God, for knowing that I needed to know that you really do, understand.

Let my words be a help to someone who didn't know or might have forgotten just how far you've been willing to go in order to show us your endless love.

Face Time

2010-04-01T10:18:00.007-04:00

This morning I read an interesting, though not entirely surprising article in the Orlando Sentinel regarding concerns of how the growing popularity of social media venues such as FaceBook and Twitter could be steering us away from good old fashion, face to face time with cherished friends and family.

Some are worried that we're getting so comfortable with hellos, what's up and whatnots occurring via our virtual world that we're not as interested as we use to be in things like intimate phone calls spent catching up and those potentially huge and hilariously entertaining, family reunions.

We're becoming just fine with meeting our new nieces and nephews via Shutterbug, forgoing that once in the little one's lifetime opportunity of snuggling the sugary sweet smelling newborn and establishing that connection that forms when you can say things like, "Why, I remember holding you when you were just a pup, little Billy."

We're okay with saying, "I Love You, Grandma_ Happy eighty-fifth!" via an e-card rather than making the trip over the river and through the woods to actually celebrate the special day with our precious, one of a kind, not going to be here to hug forever, Grandma. Heck, we're even skipping the thoughtful trip to the Hallmark store to at least hand pick an appropriate card showing Grandma that we care enough to send the very best! (Remember that Hallmark slogan?)

In the midst of all of our 'social networking' we're really creating a new way to disconnect.

Given the lapse of time I've allowed since the last time my family and I loaded up the van and headed to our hometown up in the northern suburbs of Chicago, maybe, they're right.

I'm curious, do you think we're becoming more and more isolated and distant, forgoing experiences where we interact in person in favor of keeping tabs via the internet?

Dear God,
I see myself in that article that I read and though I'm more than a little ashamed to say it, I think they are spot on. As we scurry around being sure to tend to things like updating our status on FaceBook and keeping our Blackberries facing us, glancing down at it continually while we grab a quick bite of lunch with a friend, we're neglecting the opportunities to honestly value the person we're with and the fleeting moment we're actually in.

Some of us are to the point where we would rather write about where we're having lunch so that everyone who isn't with us can wish that maybe they were the ones there having lunch, making the person who is sitting across the table from us so completely annoyed with how we're checking out on them while checking in with the whole wide world, that they might be wishing that they weren't having lunch with us. After all, they didn't need to actually be there having lunch with us, they could have just read about it, like everyone else.

The thing is, God, I think that's how relationships with you have been going for years. Even before all of our virtual methods of connecting we often left our time with you up to the pastor or the author we're into or that fantastic TV ministry that we fit in whenever it's good for our schedule. When it comes to making time to talk with you, many of us have been relying on everything but personal one on one time with you in prayer.

That's the best thing about committing to this thirty day blogging time of prayer_ for twenty-six days in a row, I have made special time to talk with you, person to God, and every single day, I have felt that you are here with me.

Right now I ask you to help me never give up this time talking with you each day. I don't want to get to the place where if my pastor teaches a great lesson on Sunday I feel no need to touch base with you, on my own, during the six days between Sundays. I do not ever want to go back to that way of impersonal and distant, spiritual malnutrition.

As for the article that I read and the truth that hit me when I recognized my growing ability to post the photos, say the kind words and call it a day, when it comes to really connecting with those wonderful people I'm so blessed to call friend or family, help me to go the extra real mile. Anyone that you have allowed in my life deserves a genuine effort and I want them to know how truly special they are and that I appreciate the chance to know them.

Thank you for opening my eyes, God. I can always count on you.

A Heart for God's Desire

2010-03-31T10:55:00.006-04:00

Some call me a goody two shoes.

Obviously, they don't know me very well

because just like everyone else,

surprise, surprise,

I have a dark side.

If you're brave, read on.

Right up front I'll tell you that there's nothing sorted or too terribly over the top written here. Hope that doesn't disappoint you. If I were to write absolutely everything down that this one or that, or especially God, who knows and sees every part of me, happened to witness regarding some of my darker thinking or actions, your screen would immediately get pitch black, making it impossible to read another word.

Don't worry, I won't be going there... for as open and honest as I am trying to be here,
I'm not stupid.

I'm guessing it's the same deal with you. There is probably a handful or two of people who know practically every less than admirable move you've ever made and some of that handful would be more than happy to rehash every sorted detail with you or anyone else who would listen. Those same people are the ones who say that they love you, which, speaking from experience, can personally make my dark Vadar-ish side grow instantly darker. That's not exactly a picnic in the park to recognize about myself, but I might as well face it, since it's true.

On the other side of the ever mounding heap of dark yuck is the side of myself that majority of people see. The other side of me is the side that tries to do what is right, mostly, and sometimes surprisingly, that side of me tries to do what is right even when it's the harder thing to do.

I'm not tooting my own horn regarding this better side of myself, not in the least. You see, this lighter side of me, this better side that hopefully even more of you come to know, is the product of one thing alone, a desire, in my often divided heart, to know and please God.

That's right, for any good that you find in me, give a heart for God's desire every ounce of credit. Beyond my heart for God there is nothing worthy of a second more of your time.

Dear God,
I am so aware of my need for you. The days upon days that I've neglected to acknowledge my dark side that has often ruled more of me than I care to admit, make me feel unworthy to even begin a prayer to you. Thank you for your graciousness to cut through the mess.

Since praying to you is based on the goodness of who you are and not dependent on any goodness by my own means, I come to you and ask you for the help and light that you are eagerly waiting to pour out to me.

I'm so grateful that you look beyond the good and bad layers of my life and go directly to the heart of the matter, my heart for your desire.

I'm thankful that you know that my heart, confused and misguided as it has often been, belongs to you. Thank you for sticking by me during those darker days when I could have easily gone either way_ your healing truth and light or the depths of darkness and despair.

Now more than ever, I'm thankful that I am in tune with my obvious need for you and in tune with what matters most to me, which is that I am real with the truth about you that I know and that I willingly do whatever I can to share it.

I'm thankful for the way that you take my past and toss it aside as if it never existed. Today is what matters to you God, today and only today.

So, for myself and the untold ba-zillions of others who want to peel back the layers, remind us of your ability to see what really matters. Remind us that all you ever hope to accomplish in us is that we fully seek to embrace your light.

W2's and other Sticky Subjects

2010-03-30T10:37:00.003-04:00

Everything isn't always going to be rosy unless you're one of those people who don't mind walking through life wearing pink glasses.

While I try to look on the bright side of things, every now and then something comes along that threatens my ability to merrily roll along. Every now and then a potential deal breaker pops up and at once I can feel my body become tense and silently scream, "All bets off!"

Peace stealers come in all different shapes and sizes. Some come with perfect packaging hiding crummy interiors while others shlep up without trying in the least to hide their joy robbing selves. My most recent peace stealer came in the form of a misplaced W2.

While I am not the most organized person in the world I am pretty reliable when it comes to keeping track of important stuff like insurance policies, major purchase receipts, repair bills, warranties and anything even closely related to tax documents. In my quest to stay on the somewhat organized side of life, I typically have one location, usually a basket because I love baskets, where I store 'keeper' mail until I have time to actually sit down and file each piece into its appropriate folder or whatever.

So, you ask yourself, how then does such an almost fairly well organized individual misplace an all important W2?

Long story short, in that catch all basket of papers waiting to be filed there was an instance of unidentified bonding that occurred. One envelope of minor importance somehow attached itself to the missing envelope of major importance containing the missing W2. With the not so important envelope's backside sticking to the front of the all important envelope holding the W2, it was next to impossible to detect the presence of the W2.

Given that I have just described the unfortunate circumstance of the sticky envelopes, I obviously eventually found my much sought after, missing W2. True, it was at around 12:30 AM but still, the mission was accomplished.

I share all of this to say_

Sometimes,

the important stuff in life is way too easily overlooked

Sometimes,

when you realize how desperately you need the overlooked important stuff

it can take a surprisingly long while to find it

Sometimes,

what you are so sincerely searching for

has been there all along

Dear God,
It's day twenty-four of thirty, so, it's been about three and a half weeks that I've been praying to you in this blog. In the grand scheme of things, that is practically no time at all. As you know, it has been years that I have been searching for the best way to reach you and return to that wonderful place of unwavering and satisfying faith. Come to find out, all I ever had to do to be close to you like I use to be was to take the time to speak with you, one on one, each and every day. All along, you were just one gentle mention away.

Now that I am here, now that I'm talking with you again, I want to stay.

I don't want to return to the wandering years of restlessness and questioning. I don't want to return to the reading of every spiritual book that happens to hit the bestseller list hoping to find the joy in life, which by the way, is simply found in personally knowing you.

Thank you again for this prayer journey that you placed on my heart to follow because without this time with you I have no doubt at all that I would still be floundering around in the dessert of life, hopelessly searching for answers to questions that don't matter.

Today, God, I ask that you allow me to be of some service to those who are currently searching for you.

Let me be light to those on the dark path of misguided spirituality who have a hunger for understanding their purpose but who look to false teachings to find it. So many people post daily horoscopes and lucky numbers and such on FaceBook and Twitter and forward useless chain letters in effort to feed their human desire to understand what life is really all about. They cling to empty promises as they hope to somehow grab hold of reason or luck...

Please, let me be of some sort of service to these dear ones with hungry hearts who, though they may not realize it, long to be connected to you.

Sometimes,

we look for meaning in all the wrong places while all along,

you,

the One True God and Creator of All

who declared a time and purpose for everything under heaven,

have been just one prayer away.

New Smyrna Beach

2010-03-29T09:53:00.001-04:00

The idea that God is interested in knowing us rather than interested in whatever gift, talent or ability that we have to bring to his table causes me to think back to this past Saturday afternoon at New Smyrna Beach.

My kids are currently on Spring Break and needless to say, that means that I am on a bit of a break from routine, too. Suddenly, there are trips to the store, rides to and from friends, rides for friends and basically just a great deal of additional coming and going happening in our home.

Saturday was a little out of the ordinary in that at around two thirty in the afternoon, Sydney didn't have the next eight to ten hours booked with endless friends and activities. It was unusually calm and days before, she and I had talked about wanting to get some serious beach time in during the break, so seizing this opportunity, Sydney and I headed to New Smyrna Beach for what was left of the afternoon.

I knew it would be busier than usual, what with Spring Break and all of the tourists and such, but I hadn't anticipated the amount of traffic we experienced. Both ways, to and from the beach were slow going, which surprisingly, wasn't all that aggravating to me.

On the way to the beach, we listened to a new mixed CD she'd put together for us and laughed at all of the unusual sounds she'd compiled. On the way home, we continued our conversation that we'd had walking along the somewhat chilly shoreline, flip flops in hand.

We discussed what I've been blogging about and I was able to share with her how much closer I feel I've come to God over the last twenty or so days because of the prayer blogging. We talked about what I had written that day regarding forgiving our neighbor for the sadness he created and I told her how God had made it clear to me that I had to be free of the grudge I'd not entirely been owning. I explained how much lighter I felt inside for having given that burden to God. Even as I talked about it with her, my spirit felt lighter than it had in years.

The beauty of the beach was expected and obvious, I mean, who doesn't look out into sky so blue and endless ocean and feel at least a little taste of awe and wonder? The beauty I found in the time talking with my daughter that afternoon amazingly out shined the majestic sunlight dancing on the glistening water.

As we talked and talked and talked some more, I could see Sydney taking in the things that I shared with her about God loving us and wanting time with us more than anything else. I saw her ponder the confession I shared about that grudge and I could tell that everything that I had said registered with her on a level that I'm not sure I've ever witnessed before.

While sitting in that traffic of confused tourists trying to find their way, our continuing conversation led us to an awesome God who deeply loves us, who longs to personally know us just as we are. In our conversation sitting in tourist traffic, I believe that the God who created all we had just enjoyed at the beach joined us on that journey home and absolutely delighted in the time we shared.

Dear God,

It's hard to describe how closely I felt you on our ride home from the beach the other day. It was so interesting as I could see that my daughter was listening with a new intensity and I was was talking with a new freedom.

I've known you all of my life and I cannot begin to count how many times I've felt your undeniable love and kindness, but right now, during this journey of blogged conversational prayer, you are closer to my heart than you've ever been and I can sense your continued closeness in even my most mundane tasks. Because I am asking you to be in my day and be in the lives of those I love and to show us your desires for us and lead us to a closer relationship with you, you are here and I can't even tell you how good it is to know that you are so near!

There is an old song that we use to sing in church when I was growing up that said you are as close as the mention of your name, and as I call out to you in prayer, I find that song to be one hundred percent true.

I call and you answer. I ask for you to show your love to my family and draw them into a new and more intimate relationship with you and before my eyes I see your miraculous hand in doing just that.

I know that I cannot manipulate the clock in regard to how, when or where you will further establish your rightful place in the lives of those I love and care about, but I know that you have heard my prayer and that you are active in the hearts of those I pray for even when I am unable to notice.

So, today I come to you and tell you that I trust you in a more tangible way than I ever have before. I trust you and I am in awe that you love me this much. I am humbled, God, because I know nothing I do and nothing I can become will ever be deserving of this incredible gift of love that you've lavished on me. You love me so much because you are God and greater love has no man, than you.

Before I close in prayer, I ask that you draw me even closer because the more of you that I get to enjoy, the more of you I want.

I also ask that for all of the people who stay away from you because they honestly and truly feel they have walked too far away or believe that they have nothing to offer you and deem themselves unworthy, please God, oh please, let them sense in their heart that you love them exactly as they are and that nothing would make you happier than for them to ask for you to be with them, just like you are here with me, right now.

A One Thing, God

2010-03-28T20:49:00.003-04:00

It's day twenty-two of thirty and the very best thing to come out of this blogged conversational prayer time, so far, is a very simple idea that I honestly never gave much thought.

God generously created each of us with unique characteristics, talents, abilities, personalities and the like. Though he does want us to use our precious little selves to bring glory and honor to his name, that's not at all what he desires most.

More than your talent, more than your clever methods of teaching, more than those great cookies you bake for the bake sale and more than the hours you spend getting the church grounds ready for that upcoming special service, God wants you.

God just wants you.

No kidding, that's it. The rest of the stuff, like the great way that you meet and greet or the lofty way you hit that high note in your solo, is the icing on the cake that you bring to his table when he has finally captured your heart.

If you have ever felt as if you can't come to God empty handed, with nothing out of the ordinary to offer him, you can put your self doubt and uneasiness aside because you actually have the one thing that he's always wanted, you.

Dear God,
Thank you for this simple concept that you brought to my attention today. The whole idea is that all you really need from me, is me! That makes it so easy to come to you in prayer because I know that I'm prepared for the occasion because by humbling myself in prayer to you, I'm bringing everything that you want.

You're nothing like anyone I've ever known. With you there are no terms, no conditions, not a single line of unreadable tiny print.

You simply want me, God. I'm the one item on your list that completes your shopping. You don't need me to come to you with fancy packaging or nifty talents, skills or abilities. I can talk to you and delight your heart by just being myself.

Thank you that I see this more clearly now, God. Thank you that talking with you each of these 22 days has brought me to this place of recognizing these little things that make all of the difference in the world.

I feel as if I have won the grand prize!

You know exactly what I mean. You see my heart, you sense me joy.
You celebrate this moment of clarity with me.

All that you want from me, is me and that makes me want even more of you.

Time To Grow Up

2010-03-27T13:49:00.009-04:00

First thing on my mind this morning is that today is day twenty-one in my thirty day journey of blogged conversational prayer.

Second thing that comes to mind is, Hey, it's day twenty-one... time to grow up!

Grow up, I think to myself? What is that suppose to mean?

Quickly it comes to mind that it means what it says, Grow up, already!

If it's possible for a person's own thoughts to ruffle their own feathers I must admit that right now, mine are a bit ruffled.

Immediately I start surveying my thinking and it doesn't take too long before the pebble of discomfort in my glass slippers reveals itself loud and clear.

Got a grudge?

Ah, there it is... unforgiveness.

I've always had plenty of people who appreciate me so it's easy to put aside the ones who absolutely don't and who, in turn, I not only don't particularly care for but one or two that I wouldn't mind seeing getting a dose of what I think they have coming to them.

Uh-oh. Here we are... pure bred, grudge.

Could anything look sillier than a grown person throwing themselves on the floor and lashing about in a temper tantrum befitting a three year old?

To me, that's what I see in my mind's eye when I consider the possibility of how I look to God when I hold a grudge. When I just can't let it go, when I cling to my rightness in a situation gone wrong like a child clings to the toy at Target and yelps in a fit of rage when the parent says to put it back.

I had a dream this week of neighbors of ours inviting us for a cookout. I woke from the dream, startled.

In trying to make sense of the dream I began replacing the neighbors in the dream with other neighbors, ones who actually like us. You see, the neighbors in the dream do not like us.

It's been one of the hardest situations I've ever dealt with in my entire life. Lines were crossed that I haven't allowed myself to get past. It doesn't help the situation in that it's justifiably terribly sandy down here in the Sunshine State, so, drawing the proverbial line in the sand has been super easy to do with these folks.

See how I can turn it into something funny? That's how I avoid things. That's how I tactfully cover the hurt so that it's a more attractive and practically fashionable, accessory.

It's time for me to erase that line, to invite the power of the Holy Spirit to blow the sand away and create a genuinely fresh, clean slate.

They hurt me deeper than anyone ever has_ they threatened my child.

I've told myself that I have every right to keep my distance and that they should be thanking us every single day that we didn't press charges then and there and legally tarnish the records and prove without a shadow of doubt, our rightness.

I have no rightness but through the forgiving blood of Christ that was not only shed for me, but was intended to cover everyone, everywhere, throughout history. That blanket of forgiveness includes those who do not like me and it even includes those who threaten my child.

Dear God,

I really do want to grow up. It is day twenty-one in this prayer journey but truth be told is that in regard to being aware of your forgiveness and your love in my own life, I'm practically a senior citizen... I should know better!

I should be able to turn the other cheek a thousand times or at least seventy times seven as it mentions in the Bible! What is wrong with me? Why can't I let this go and leave it all to you to sort out? Have I not received one hundred percent forgiveness for my own wrong doings every time that I come to you and ask?

This man who threatened us does not claim to be a child of yours. For all I know, all he has ever known in a parent is one who violently raised his or her hand to him or maybe was never present to give a care at all. For all I know he was abandoned and helpless and had to fight every day of his childhood just to survive. Maybe he's just mean spirited because that is what he desires to be, but whatever the reason for the hurt he has caused us, your love for him, for all of us, is bigger than any pain. Your love for each of us is greater than any darkness, chosen or not.

I know that to be fully in your will today, God, I have to completely lay down every hint of hurt that I carry around because of this unfortunate situation that has created a valley of divide. I know that you intended to reach the entire lost world through the sacrifice of Jesus on the Cross. I know that having died on the cross and rising days after is to serve as testimony that nothing, not even the darkness of death can defeat the undeniable, living power of God.

So, today, God, I put this hurt at the foot of your cross and with it I put every vindictive thought of settling the score and every below the radar distance that I have used to keep the separation alive.

I forgive because I am forgiven, even now.

Thank you for forgiving me. I sense your cleansing power. How can I ever repay you?

Priceless

2010-03-26T10:34:00.008-04:00

I have to start out by saying that yesterday's blogged prayer time was so good. If you read the blog prayer I am curious as to the impression it left so, let me know.

As I wrote the prayer I was praying - the sense of peace and the connection with God was amazing. As a matter of fact, I am happy to share that I believe that prayer set the tone for the entire rest of my day. Here's what I mean.

After publishing the blog my heart was overwhelmed with a sense that God heard my prayer. I felt incredibly met by him and I think that because of this special time with him, I was more than a little excited to get on with my day.

Immediately following my writing time I grabbed a quick swig of warmed up coffee, put on my gym shoes and headed out of the door with Bear-bear. Next, I called my Mom to check on her because the day before, I'd been told by my niece that she hadn't been feeling very well.

When I heard Mom's voice I could tell that she felt uneasy, which quickly drew my five alarm senses to attention. She said the doctor had called and wanted her to come in that morning in re to her CT scan she'd taken the week before. Inside my head I heard my gears try to shift into full worry mode but the words from my mouth were not nearly so frazzled. Instead, I spoke calmly and encouraged my Mom to keep her spirits up and not allow herself to go to the bad thoughts that so eagerly want to flood our minds in moments like these.

Because of that prayer time, I was a hopeful, positive and strong woman for my Mom. Priceless.

After hanging up with my Mom because my sister-in-law had arrived to drive her to her appointment, I called my husband to pour out my concern for Mom and ask that he pray for her, too. That conversation was comforting and it helped me let go of the resurging feelings of panic. After hanging up with Joe, I prayed for Mom and thanked God for the relationship that Joe and I now share.

My sister picked up and I could tell she was a bit concerned when she heard my voice because we don't talk as often as most people think. Life gets to us sometimes, I suppose. Bren gives one thousand percent of herself to her family and I'm so proud of that. Her two adult daughters have a solid, loving and compassionate woman to assist and guide them when necessary. Hell or high water, my sister is a woman with a tender heart that comes to your side and goodness shines through, every time.

When she heard my voice, like I said, I could tell she was a little worried right out of the gate. I felt I needed to let her know what was going on with Mom as we might need to jump into action.

Funny how that is, my sister and I being the only two daughters out of the six of us always think that one of us need to be there for Mom rather than counting on the guys, one of whom lives less than a mile from my Mom.

Long story short is that throughout the day, I had a peace that was indescribable re my concerns about my Mom. Yes, I did shed a few tears and prayed in an ongoing sort of way but overall, the day progressed as days always do and I accomplished all that I was meant to accomplish with ease, including a SAC meeting late in the day where I sat around a table with wonderfully committed educators, community leaders and caring parents discussing all that matters to Community Learning Center West.

I talked with my niece re my Mom's doctor visit which addressed some symptoms she's been having without a doomsday diagnosis. Mom was doing alright.

Roasted chicken for dinner and some TV time watching a recorded episode of Survivor with Joe and the kids.

A terribly scary day gone good is the only way to describe it.

I believe I owe it all to the magnificent time that I shared with God, and you, that morning.

Dear God,
I am so thankful that it ended up being less than I had feared in regard to my Mom. She's such a blessing to me and I am so grateful for how well she is doing for a woman in her mid eighties.

Thank you for that time of prayer yesterday that absolutely and without a doubt fueled my hearts focus throughout a day that would otherwise have felt tormenting, riddled with worry and fear.

Thank you for the place you have helped Joe and I get to where I can share with him the things that cause me concern and he can listen and offer honest support and encouragement. I can lean on him now more than ever before and I know that you are to thank for that rock quality (the good kind) I have found in him.

I'm so thankful for my sister-in-law who always comes to my Mom's aide and not only escorts her to countless doctor visits and such, but who genuinely loves my Mom and gives her very best effort every time. Bless her, God, with the peace and healing that I know she desires and keep her thoughts on your goodness.

Thank you for my niece who has a very precious and dear relationship with my Mom. She's gone through so much over the years but her devotion and love for my Mom never miss a beat. She's beautiful_ a wonderful loving and forgiving type of a person, which is so rare these days. Please bless her with an even closer relationship with you so that she can have everything her heart needs in this life_ a life filled with your mercy and grace.

My dear sister, be with her as she faces the challenges of being true to herself and who she wants to be as well as being who she feels she has to be in the role of the Pastor's wife and the ever giving daughter , sister and Mom she's been every day of her selfless life.

For Mike And Sydney, bless this time of Spring Break. Fill their hearts with love and compassion and let us spend quality time enjoying and appreciating who you've created each of us to be. Help them to have time with true friends, friends who want only good things for them and please God, keep the others away. Give me the patience and energy to do whatever I can to make this time the best it can be.

More than anything else, continue to be there when I call, as you promised you will be, and let me know that you are there without a shred of doubt. Nudge me to keep making the call to you each day so that every day can be sweeter than the day before.

The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures; he leads me beside still waters; he restores my soul. He leads me in right paths for his name’s sake.

Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I fear no evil; for you are with me; your rod and your staff – they comfort me.

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord my whole life long.

Psalm 23 (New International Version)

A psalm of David.

The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not be in want.

He makes me lie down in green pastures,

he leads me beside quiet waters,

he restores my soul.

He guides me in paths of righteousness

for his name's sake.

Even though I walk

through the valley of the shadow of death,

I will fear no evil,

for you are with me;

your rod and your staff,

they comfort me.

You prepare a table before me

in the presence of my enemies.

You anoint my head with oil;

my cup overflows.

Surely goodness and love will follow me

all the days of my life,

and I will dwell in the house of the LORD

forever.

New Day New Dream

2010-03-25T10:22:00.005-04:00

It's not so much a new dream as it is a revised dream. My internal tour guide has always been focused on one destination, to use my gifts and abilities to creatively share what I know to be true.

So, Yesterday, I dove a bit into the past and honestly, I feel a bit ashamed for indulging in the darker bits of my memories. As a matter of fact, shorty after I published my very unedited post, I flipped on a favorite speaker and no kidding, this verse was the very first thing that I heard...

Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past.

See, I am doing a new thing!

Isaiah 43:18, 19

So, is God saying for me to forget about the past?

Did he want me to feel a bit sheepish that I brought up another old hurt in order to express what was truly on my heart?

I'm not entirely sure, but today, in my mind's eye, I have an image of God sitting in the judges row just like where Simon Cowell sits on the stage of American Idol.

God is seated in a chair that swivels and his entire being is gently twisting back and forth, from left to right. I'm thinking that might be suggesting that I hadn't needed to dig so deeply into the past for references. I'm thinking there is plenty happening right now that I ought to be dealing with and that if I do that, wholeheartedly and with upmost transparency, something that I share will ressonate with you and this shared conversational payer journey will really do something good.

It's a new day and with this new day, God intends on doing a new thing. He doesn't hold yesterday against any of us, he only cares about your decision right now.

Yes, if you have some stuff that you need to ask him to forgive you for from your past, by all means, ask him and receive the forgiveness that awaits you just for the asking. Then, however, and this is so, so important, put away that thing you need forgiveness for once and for all, and focus on what you are doing, today.

If you pray and ask him to be with you, the one who created heaven and earth, will be with you.

Emmanuel, God with us.

Dear God.
How kind you are to point out my wrong turns without kicking me to the curb for not 'just knowing' what to do all of the time without making all of these blundering mistakes.

Thank you for loving me enough to point out my errors so that I can do better the next time.

Can I ask ahead of time for forgiveness for the next big boo boo that I inflict on my life or do I need to wait until it actually happens and come to you again asking for forgiveness as my day by day journey reveals the next calamity?

Wait, no need to answer that, God. I know the answer. I need to think only about today because the Bible says that tomorrow will take care of itself.

Life in you is so freeing, God.

I want everyone to know this incredible gift we each have waiting for us if we'd only make the time to talk with you each day.

Mom, I finally get it! I finally know, firsthand, what a great friend I have in Jesus! He came so that I might have this direct line to the big guy, himself. I can talk to the God of Wonders just as I am and he will always, always be there to listen. He will never fail to hear my cries.

I'm crying tears of joy right now.

I know that I know that you hear me, God! You hear and delight in this written conversational prayer from little old me_ little old, live life by the seat of my pants, me.

All that I ask of you today, God, is that I never ever let this profound gift of prayer escape me. Please help me convey the wonderful power for living that just a little daily time talking with you can bring.

This is not meant just for me, God. This is for everybody. But thanks for drawing me near to you and for allowing me to be on this 30 day blogged prayer journey. Thank you for giving me to a Mom that has never stopped believing_ never ceased to pray.

I won't look back for where you might have wanted me to go, I only look ahead to see what choices you have for me, today.

Please, no turing back for me.

I won't look back. I won't look back.

Dream Stealer

2010-03-24T12:23:00.009-04:00

When recently waking my son for school, he greeted my efforts with uncharacteristic harshness and a dark, dramatic chuckle...

"Dream stealer!" he bellowed out in the best he could muster, half asleep grumpy old man, tone.

In the many mornings of waking my wonderful son, thankfully, I never recall him addressing me that way.

I was startled by his words and they returned my thoughts to a long, long time ago...

The first memory was of him when he was just a toddler, cheeks the shape of two giant jawbreakers and as smooth as the silky top of a newly opened jar of peanut butter. In those days, Mike greeted me every morning, without fail, "Good to see you, Mommy!"

Oh, the pleasure in remembering that precious boy face saying those sweet, welcoming words. I could hardly wait for him to get up each morning because his loving greeting was music to my ears_ it put the bounce in my young mom, steps. Mike is my dream come true, first born. In his tender eyes back then, I think I may have been a dream maker, rather than a dream stealer.

The second memory brought to mind is not so pleasant. Though it takes me way, way, waaaayyyy back to a time during my adolescence it has a vicious superpower villain force that can strip a smile straight off of my face in a flash.

I'd been finishing up high school and was trying to sort through all of those huge decisions such as where I should go to college and what I should study. At the same time, things were pretty hectic at home as my parents were retiring and planning to relocate out of state.

It happened at a family dinner in my sister's home. I don't think we were celebrating a special event or anything, it was just me and my parents, my sister and her family, a couple of my brothers and their families sharing a casual, Sunday after church, dinner.

Sometime after the blessing and before I'd finished making my way around the adults table filling my plate with food before returning to the kids table, somebody asked the question.

"So, what are you planning to study in college?"

Without an ounce of hesitation I answered confidently, "Music and art."

Different ones said this or that about some of my art and music experiences along with the typical sentiments expected to be heard when a young persons' hopes and dreams are being revealed and pondered. Then from out of nowhere, when someone was talking about the songs I had written and how there were specialized schools for music that I might want to investigate, heavy hitting words entered my head like giant stones. Recalling those words can still make blue skies turn gray.

"Well, hopefully you're not thinking that you're the next Amy Grant or something, 'cause that'll never happen!"

At that time, Amy Grant was just making a name for herself and I probably listened to her album at least three or four times a week. I remember learning to play a couple of her songs on the piano.

Before those words were spoken, I really hadn't seen myself as becoming the next anybody. I had felt compelled to do my own thing via the arts.

By art and music teachers, classmates and friends, based on performance, I'd been encouraged to pursue the arts practically all of my life. I had never gone out looking for music or art, but rather, it was as if they had somehow found me.

Despite the collective positive support in my life, the words of an older sibling over a crowded dinner table struck me down like a knife in the darkness. I hadn't anticipated such a blow from this person, ever, and I couldn't put it into context at the time so, unfortunately, the destructive words reeked havoc on my confidence for a very long time.

"Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me."

Bones grow back!

We tend our broken bones, a doctor confirms the injury and friends acknowledge our boo-boo by signing the awkward cast and maybe even give us flowers or candy. In due time, when the cast comes off, we're all better! Words, however, once they're spoken, are out there for all of eternity. To make it worse, it's possible that nobody else ever hears the damaging words, only you. Words can create doubt. Doubt steals dreams.

Like I shared with you the other day, what comes out of our mouth, matters!
After all, nobody wants to be called a dream stealer, do they?

Hi, God.
Yes, I did bring up an old injury but thankfully God, whenever a yucky memory surfaces to rear its ugly head, you help me sort through the mess of potentially tormenting words and I am reminded again of all of the many ways you always meet my needs, even the quiet unvoiced ones.

Having experienced the pain of poorly chosen words at such a difficult transitioning time in my life has made me especially thoughtful regarding the words that I choose to speak into the lives of the young people in my life. I try to leave a window of possibility in my conversations with my own kids as well as their friends. I try to listen more than I speak and I acknowledge whatever gifts or abilities that I recognize in them.

So, thank you God for allowing that tough time in my own life to produce some sensitivity in me that I believe you have used to benefit others. I love how you turn the bad things in life into some kind of good.

You amaze me that way, God. So much of what I've considered to be devastating in life has created beauty in its wake. You've turned my mourning into dancing and lifted my sorrow, time and time, again!

Psalm 30:11

You have turned my mourning into joyful dancing.

You have taken away my clothes of mourning and clothed me with joy,

Again God, I ask of you today, tomorrow and for all of the days to follow, make me aware of how powerful my own words can be and help me to build others up with the words that I speak. Thank you for every encouraging, uplifting and inspiring word that I get to share.

__________________________________________________________________________________

Funny how things come together sometimes...

My niece sent me this forward just as I was closing my prayer. Also, today is day 18 of my 30 day journey of blogged conversational prayer. I'd love to hear what you think of it so far, so leave a comment or simply check a box to share your thoughts.

There are four things that you cannot recover in life:
The stone after it's thrown.
The word after it's said.
The occasion after it's missed
The time after it's gone.

Chair Stealer

2010-03-23T10:06:00.070-04:00

Our cat, Gizmo,
an eleven year old Himalayan,
has a number of issues that would take
days and days of blog posts to describe.

Gizmo is simply so silly, sometimes.

Gizmo tends to want whatever it is that someone else has, especially when it comes to a cozy place to sit. I can be sitting in a chair reading for a few minutes, get up and walk about ten feet to refill a cup of coffee and by the time I return to my chair, Gizmo has tucked himself neatly into my spot. Mind you, there are plenty of other chairs he could sit on and a roomy couch, too. He literally appears out of nowhere_ it's as if he's lurking in the shadows just waiting to claim what clearly and rightfully belongs to someone else. Momo, as we affectionately call him, steals chairs so frequently that the kids and I made up a little jingle explaining that he's a chair stealer.

As goofy as Momo's chair stealing may sound, believe me, chair stealing is just the tip of the simply so silly Gizmo iceberg.

Trust, or lack of trust, is another biggie in the lengthy list of "Giz-ssues". I was told that the family we adopted Gizmo from when he was only two, had experienced some unfortunate domestic conflict. Giz, though very loved by one of his owners, began to hide and cower in fear which is why Gizmo was given up. His rocky past seems to have had lasting repercussions. To this day, from time to time Gizmo just wigs out for no reason whatsoever and looks at us, his family that has fed, loved and cared for his every need for nearly a decade, as if one of us is about to attack. Seriously, one minute you can be cheerfully talking to Gizmo, petting him and telling him what a handsome kitty he is as he joyfully purrs his curly whiskers off and the next, his tiny little ears fall back as if the wind has started to blow really hard, then he rears up on his hind legs and poses one perfectly mittened paw to prepare to pop you one wherever he can reach.

No, kidding. We've all experienced Gizmo's flip flopping affection. It's hilarious and sad all at the same time. I mean, you'd think that after all of these years of love he could let his little guard down, relax a bit and soak up all of the rewards of being our precious pet without reverting so readily, to the fear. After all, Momo has a home filled with love and affection, yet he continues to behave as if the other proverbial shoe is going to drop at any second making his safe and comfy world come violently crashing down.

Sometimes I wonder if God looks at me the way that I look at Gizmo.

How many times do I hesitate or even retreat before taking a simple step towards fulfilling a small act of kindness that my spirit felt compelled to offer a friend, neighbor or family member? Inside my head and heart I hear the implied doubt and mistrust putting in their worthless two cents as soon as the notion to do something nice crosses my mind. What if they don't like it when I send them an encouraging card or email? What if I call and they don't want to talk and take my call as an act of prying and self service? Maybe they don't even really like me all that much? Finally, I conclude that the little nudging on my heart that made me think of doing something nice is nothing more than a bad idea. Yes, I allow myself to believe, if I do this nice thing that I'm thinking of doing, surely something bad is going to happen!

Simply so silly, God must be thinking to himself as he watches me discard those thoughts of doing something nice for someone for fear of rejection, blatantly dismissing his precious prompting. Simply so silly, he likely shakes his head and looks ahead to just how many years of faithfulness he will have to show me before I finally accept that when I feel the nudge to do something nice I can trust that the best thing to do is to just do it!

If you hear me on nothing else, believe me when I say that in my experiences so far, even the slightest inclination to do anything good for anyone else without expecting something in return is beyond our human capabilities except for the when the goodness of God comes pushing through the junk because he wants nothing more than for us to experience the incredible joy that comes from giving.

How many times, may I ask, have you caught yourself deciding against making that phone call to a friend you haven't heard from in a long time? How many times did you not just drop a card in the mail to the person that you heard was going through a difficult time and could use some cheering up? How many times have you skipped buying that cup of coffee for your coworker and skipped calling your brother just because you want them to know that you care?

Dear God,
Again, I want to start my prayer buy saying a great big thank you for all of the little things that you have been bringing to my attention over these past two weeks of praying to you in conversational prayer. Even everyday stuff like our crazy little cat is helping me think of life in terms of the bigger picture that I believe you want me to see.

I want to be free to be myself and act on the heart nudges to do something nice without any second guessing. I want to be able to sense your touch on my thinking and obey whatever it is that you place on my mind to do without weighing any possible outcome.

Help me to trust you. I know I keep repeating that request but honestly, I still need to ask for your help to trust more fully.

I'm sure you understand the doubt that causes me to back away from the opportunities to give freely and invest in another 'just because' but I do think that enough is enough!

There's an old saying that no act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted. Well, that's how I want to view the nudges on my heart that you so generously provide. You want me to experience the pure goodness that comes from being a giver like you. You are the one who inspires every thoughtful idea and action that I have and I want to honor your gift to me by sharing whatever it is that you suggest, with whomever you place on my heart.

My phone is charged, my stamps are ready and I'm already logged on.

Whenever you're ready, God.

:o)
____________________________________________________________________

A song from a few years ago just came to mind and it fits the idea that just like my strange little cat, we could all use a little fixing.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=skUJ-B6oVDQ

Mama Always Says

2010-03-22T09:47:00.013-04:00

After dropping Sydney off at school this morning I heard a DJ refer to a familiar scripture from Ephesians 4:29 which reminded me of a quote that I often shared with my kiddos during the earlier years of their childhood. It was a line from the animated film, Bambi. This quote has been spoken so many times that whenever any of us begin saying the first couple of words of the phrase, we all join in using the same slow and steady, southern-ish drawl as the adorable bunny character, Thumper.

"Mama always says... if you don't have somethin' nice to say... then don't say anything at all."

"Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen." Ephesians 4:29 (New International Version)

Lately, I'm happily noticing that it is easier than ever to think before I speak. Maybe it's wisdom that comes with age but I honestly believe that the recent awareness regarding every word that comes out of my mouth has much to do with my prayer journey.

Even while in the car with my only been driving for a week, fifteen year old daughter, I choose the words that I say rather than just belting 'em out. Sure, my foot has hit the invisible brakes on the passenger side of our van more than once, but my mouth, thankfully, has been quite selective.

I know that just because I'm taking the time to talk with God in prayer through this blog doesn't mean that I will always successfully hold my tongue and only say things at the appropriate time or in the perfect way, but I do believe that having a talk with God makes all of the difference in the world regarding the words that are spoken into the ears and hearts of my dear ones.

Dear God, I've heard it said that it takes at least a thousand "that-a boys" to erase just one negative comment from someone's memory. Man, oh man, do I ever have a lot of that-a boys that I need say!

You know I'm not really the gossipy type but my mouth certainly can tear a person to pieces in a heartbeat if they even come close to attacking me or anyone that I love.

When I was just a kid, one of my sister-in-laws once told me that I would make a great lawyer and now that I'm older, I understand what she was really saying.

I have a quick temper and a potentially hazardous way with words whenever I am crossed or passionate about an issue. Unfortunately, I'm sure that my husband can testify to this and know without a doubt that my children are well aware of my sometimes big mouth and God, you know every single word that has ever passed my lips and even the awful ones that I've thought but not said...

Forgive me for my quick temper and my violent tongue that have definitely reeked havoc in the past. Please continue to help me think before I speak and only speak words that are edifying. Help me with the ones I only think of saying, too. When I get to heaven I know that I want to hear good words from you, so I need to take full responsibility for choosing what I say, especially when I am hurt or angry. Also, keep my voice and thoughts from words of doubt and disbelief because I am believing that even thinking those words makes you sad.

While growing up, I can remember my Mom going about her daily tasks around the house singing this old chorus that said,

Victory, victory shall be mine.

Victory, victory shall be mine!

If I hold my peace, and let the Lord fight my battles.
If I hold my peace, and let the Lord fight my battles.

Victory, victory shall be mine.

Thank you for the little bit of progress in thinking before I speak that I've noticed since beginning this journey of conversational prayer time and thank you for all of those times, way back when, that a fluffy little animated rabbit served as a reminder, too. Thank you, that I can sense that you are with me and are helping me and thank you that I have chosen to take this intentional time to talk with you.

Unless and until I return to school to become an attorney, please, oh please, Lord, keep me reminded of the need to hold my peace so that the victories can be many, and the wounded be few.

Halftime

2010-03-21T17:30:00.001-04:00

Day fifteen out of my thirty day journey in prayer is here! I've made it through the first two quarters without losing too much ground and there's only two more left to go - halftime! If I had some incredibly entertaining advertisement to play for you in this very spot like they do during the Super Bowl - wouldn't that be hilarious?

I'm going to start off by admitting one thing right off of the bat - though it's only been fifteen days so far, it's not always been easy to sit myself down and stick to my commitment of opening up a page or two of my life and sharing my thoughts and prayers. It's the opening up part that's been hard - the praying part has actually changed from initially feeling a bit awkward to an activity that I really enjoy.

So, 'Why so stressed about sharing?' I ask myself, admittedly sounding a bit like the Joker in the last Batman movie. Hmm, good question.

In the past I stood and sang solos before huge groups of people and loved it. I led worship, served on creative planning teams and shared openly with my church family, and anyone else who would listen, the many incredible ways in which God had been there for me in my darkest hours of grief. Back then I wrote music and worked with an extremely talented and successful producer which probably should have intimidated me but didn't. No, nothing scared me back then, especially not anything to do with sharing what I knew to be absolutely true of God_ that he is there when you call him.

Today, sharing my thoughts through a faceless blog frightens me. I can think of plenty of excuses and experiences on which to place the blame for my fear but I really see no benefit in that. Instead, right now before praying my shared conversational prayer, I am going to share a few words written by author, Judith C. Lechman from my favorite pink devotional Bible that I told you about a few days ago.

"It is through God's strength that we know courage, and through his power that we know goodness. When we realize this, surrender becomes our priority. Surrendering to him means growth and progress. It is the freedom of moving forward with and through him, so that each of our relationships and all of our work, worship, suffering and play reflect what he wants of us."

Dear God,
On this rainy Sunday afternoon I come to you humbled by the reality that it is your strength in my life that's currently missing.

While I realize that this path of sharing my prayer journey is something that I chose and believe I should do, I can't help but question myself for being so 'out there' by exposing my personal thoughts and reflections with anyone and everyone who cares to read them. Still, I'll continue doing what I am doing because I am asking you to give me courage that I'll need as I keep on keeping on, bringing my deepest concerns to you and my joyful thanksgivings, too.

Thank you for the fact that you are allowing me the opportunity to see my shortcomings. Thanks for helping me be moved by your spirit to confess before you and everyone else, the areas in my own life that need some considerable tending.

As I think back on what I just shared a few minutes ago, I can see that the difference in me today compared with the me of several years ago is a measure of absolute trust.

Back then, you had me, God! I knew for a fact that I could not go even one step more after losing my son if you had not been there to help me put one foot in front of the other. I depended on you completely. Even my closest friends and dearest loved ones could not help me the way that you did. Thank you, God, for back then I did learn that I could trust you and now, because of those very clear memories of your faithfulness, I can say that I will trust you again. I trust you, God.

When I begin to hold back my thoughts and ideas of what I need to say in this prayer blog, help me by giving me strength and wisdom. With your strength I can share whatever you put on my heart and I can do so without fear of judgement. As a matter of fact, through praying this very prayer I see that there are many other areas in my life where I also need to trust you.

Help me to trust you regarding my kids and there spiritual well being. They're teenagers God, and we've had so many hard knocks over the years that I am afraid that some of the bad memories of the past will outshine the good ones. Promise me, God, that you will continue to work on Mike and Sydney and speak to them in ways that they are going to hear. Use anything you like, God. Maybe you'll speak to them through a song, friends, an event they attend, something they see on the internet, anything you need to draw them closer to you, use it, and help me to trust you with them. You know how hard it is for me to trust anybody with my sweet babies, but in you I will trust.

Help me to trust you regarding our finances because I want to be an example to others in a good way regarding money. We seem to always have just enough, not a dime more and that keeps me stressed and focused on money way too much. If there are opportunities that you want us to explore regarding ways to increase out income then let us recognize those opportunities and take action. Even if you have a different role for me to play regarding our income potential, let me know and with your strength I will follow wherever you lead.

With my health, I must trust you. I've had a rough few years or so and at this point I am doing everything I can to contribute to my wellness but as you know, I still have some concerns. Help me feel however you need me to feel and let me be okay with whatever you decide. If being forty-five means feeling tired so much even thought I lift weights a few times a week and get some kind of exercise with my dog each day then let me be satisfied with that. You know how I am, God, in my head I still feel like a teenager sometimes so maybe I need to get real about my expectations of the way I should feel or maybe, just maybe, you'll help me find ways to feel even better.

Whatever you decide - however you need to work things, I surrender it all to you because I trust you.

2 Timothy 1:7 (New International Version)
For God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power, of love and of self-discipline.

Listening

2010-03-20T11:54:00.004-04:00

"So far, so good."

If I were to expand on that just a pinch I'd say, "So far, so worth it."

This beautiful sunny day marks day fourteen in my thirty day blogged journey of sharing my conversational type of prayer. I didn't start out on this road with any definite goal in mind other than to answer the nagging tug on my heart that I've been experiencing more than ever. I'm on this journey because I'm just trying to do whatever I can in order to relieve the tug.

The tug has been more intense these days, which now that I stop to think about it, has me a bit concerned as I haven't been able to handle it as I typically do which is to either ignore it, set it aside as something to do later or bury it with hurried and constant activity.

My experiences with God in the past tell me that if he's tugging this hard, he's got something to teach me and it will be best for me to just be still and listen.

So, here I sit, listening.

Dear God,

I am listening.

I can't fully explain it but you now have my attention in a way that I've not allowed in years. Sure, I've prayed and even wrote things down here and there to remind myself of specific things that I want to bring to you in prayer. I've said prayers for friends or family that have asked me to specifically pray for them. I've prayed before my meals and I've said prayers each night, but for some reason, I am experiencing this idea that you desire more than that.

I keep being reminded through little things like sermons I happen to hear, shows on television or books and articles that find their way to my attention, that you desire a more personal relationship than what I have been sharing with you. It has made me think more intentionally about how I pray and I'm concluding that you and I have been more like the casual acquaintances that run into each other at the mall and mention how we miss each other and really should get together but never actually do anything to make those, well meaning but entirely misrepresented, exchanges come to pass. Oh, no.

Oh, no, God! I didn't mean for this to happen to us, again.

Now I remember a time in my life when this distance had come between us and just as you're doing now, you did whatever it took to reel me back in. I remember the music club I had tried because of the great freebie offer that I couldn't resist that ended up delivering a CD that, song by song, drew me to a place where I could no longer pretend that it wasn't anything special between you and I. I remember the devotional Bible with that pretty pink cover that for some unknown reason at the time, I picked up for myself and began craving so much that I would find myself reading days and days beyond the prescribed daily read because even in my dutiful christian life, I was starving for more. I certainly hadn't needed another Bible but I undeniably had needed more of you.

Why you would want us to become closer and know me more intimately escapes me if I base it on myself because I know how flawed I am and so do you. But as I write these words to you it becomes so clear that it isn't about me as much as it is about who you are and your generous nature as a loving, Heavenly Father.

I have to say this, God, that in drawing me closer to you through this shared - just 'talk to you' kind of - prayer, I am learning something new every single day and sensing something more glorious about my ordinary life.

I am definitely better off than when I started this journey and so I will gladly continue because answering this tug on my heart is so worth it.

Everything I Need to Know I'm Learning From My Dog

2010-03-19T09:56:00.003-04:00

He stands there in front of our slider wearing an intent fixed gaze looking past the crepe myrtles and tropical lollypop tree, with only one thing on his mind - SQUIRREL! Not once does he hesitate and reflect back to the many, many, many times before that he's shot out of the door towards that squirrel, like an unstoppable racehorse out of the gate, and not even come close to catching it.

No, just like every other time, his chocolate brown eyes are focused and his mind is set.

One quick glance at his furry little determined face is all that it takes to know exactly what he's thinking, "Just as soon as somebody opens this sliding door for me, I imagine him saying to himself if he could talk, I'm going to get that squirrel!"

I can't begin to tell you how much pleasure Bear-bear, our dog, has brought to our family. Like most four-leggers of the dog species, he's incredibly happy all of the time, and he loves us, without question.

He's always ready to play whenever the whim happens to cross anybodies mind and he's more than happy to shake hands with everyone he meets. You can easily envision his entire being transporting to a heavenly place at the mere mention of a bite of chicken and when he hears the 'wuh' sound at the beginning of the word, walk, you would swear that somebody just told him he'd won the chicken treat lotto or something.

There is pure joy to be found by Bear-bear in even the slightest hint of something good.

Oh, to be more like Bear-bear.

Dear God,

How complicated I tend to make even the simplest of things... when will I ever learn to look at life a bit more like Bear-bear, with eyes that see the possibility of something wonderful in every opportunity?

I realize that my brain is not wired in black and white so much as Bear-bears, but I'm convinced inside this head of mine filled with ever thinking gray matter, that you never intended for my thoughts to be filled with so many, uncertain and questionable, gray areas. I think I need to learn to appreciate more of life for what it is and live in the moment instead of analyzing every detail and weighing every probable outcome before taking a step.

At the mention of the word 'beach', God, help me to begin looking for my flip-flops instead of ruling it out because it takes thirty-five minutes on Route 44 to get there. When my sweet Sydney is at the computer and yells, "Mom, come look!", help me to put down whatever, not all that important, thing that I'm working on and share a moment with my precious and intricately wired, baby girl. Each day as Mike is all sleepy headed and loving when I wake him up for his last semester of high school, let me stop my multitasking mind and sit myself down on the edge of his bead and savor a second or two of my sweet disposition son who has greeted me with a welcoming heart and open arms practically every morning of his entire wonderful life.

When my dear husband, who has walked down every road you could ever imagine with me, stands behind me and wraps his arms snuggly around my waist to say goodbye before leaving for work, let me drop the breakfast dishes gently into the sink, dry my hands and hug him back, fiercely, with complete abandon that lets him know for certain that I love him with all of my heart and I am so thankful that you decided to make him my guy.

As for you, God, I want to sense even the slightest nudge against my heart, whenever you are trying to get my attention towards something or someone that is important to you. I want you to know that I am a ready, willing and able child of yours who wants to live my life to the fullest, which I believe means that I must be completely open to your spirit and constantly aware of you.

Misguided Yesterdays - Day 12 of 30

2010-03-18T09:45:00.005-04:00

Something hit me this morning, an idea, I mean.

I realized that while I am pecking away at this keyboard trying to share some of this thirty days of conversational prayer experience with you, I'm not sure that I've ever explained what drove me to this place of recognizing that something in my life needed to change and that maybe, just maybe, I needed to put some real focus on the verb, prayer.

Since moving to Florida some six years ago, I've felt a bit out of sorts. Lots of memories, family and friends left behind in the northwest suburbs of Chicago, but honestly, they'd been somewhat left behind long before we headed south.

Life had just about beat me down prior to our move. I had been involved in quite a few exciting opportunities that ended up being filled with pain rather than the anticipated reward.

In one incident a very dear friend who was going through a particularly trying time in her life had gotten angry with me and told me that she had thought I understood pain since I had lost my son and everything, but obviously, I didn't.

Those words had been completely unexpected because she was one person who had stood by my side, all along the way, throughout the months of sickness and loss of my Ryan. I had failed in my efforts to be there for her in her situation and honestly, what hurt me the most was not that I had failed her but that she had mentioned Ryan in that way. I tried to make it that it hurt me most that I had failed her, but that was just a lie I had told myself because that was much easier to sort out than the truth of what really hurt. I selectively packed those painful words up in my trunk and moved them to the Sunshine State.

Another painful thing that happened was when it had been suggested that my volunteer serving at church was for the purpose of getting my name up in lights, so to speak. I had only been at the church for a short time and because doors had been opening for me that hadn't opened so quickly for others, disgruntled voices started to murmur and the once wide opened doors quickly slammed shut. It was as if everything good in my life began toppling over like the effect of the first fallen domino towards that long and winding unprotected row of dominoes.

Add this interpersonal and church life stuff to the fact that my husband and I were self employed in an industry that, in our experience, seemed to have suffered greatly after 911. Budgets were tightened and the dollars for artwork became fewer and far between. Making ends meet became nearly impossible.

So, life being as disheveled as it had been, upside down and totally stressed, when an offer to relocate came - Joe and I grabbed the rope and started to climb.

Our home sold in one day. We found our new Florida home in just one day. Obviously, we were suppose to make the move, or so we thought as these events happened so effortlessly we took them as some kind of sign.

To my dismay, I now see that all of that pain that I thought we had left safely behind us had somehow slipped into the boxes of too much stuff that we had loaded into the moving van. Joe and I thought we were simply leaving the old and welcoming the new with open arms, but really, we were running while dragging it all with us, every single hurt and disappointment clung to our tired bones.

You can't run away from the hurts in life - you just can't. Hurts in life don't follow you, they ride safely, day in and day out, in the depths of your heart. Until you let them go, once and for all, they are like cancer. Left unidentified and intact, hurts of the past destroy.

Dear God. I am so grateful for this day because you have led my heart to share the hurt of the past so that I can finally set myself free. I never, ever recognized how much the past had been holding me back until just now. Sometimes I guess this somewhat bright woman can be a little dim. Sorry it took me so long.

I know that I just touched on the tip of the iceberg regarding the mammoth size snowball of discouraging events that rolled over my family and I prior to our move to Florida, but you know every detail. Not only do you know every detail, you alone have the power to see my sadness, love me anyhow and stand me back on my determined feet again. Because I am recognizing my need for you and telling you how I feel and how I need your help to move forward, you will hear my cry and answer me.

Yesterday is thankfully over and this new day belongs to you. Thank you for the sunrise that marks the start of a new beginning, again and again, day after day. Thanks for the springtime - even down here in this warm weather climate, the freshness of spring can practically be tasted, if feels that promising - it restores my hope.

“Hear my cry, O Lord; attend unto my prayer. From the ends of the Earth, will I cry unto Thee, for when my heart is overwhelmed; lead me to the rock that is higher than I. For Thou has been a shelter for me, and a strong tower from the enemy.” Psalms 61: 1-3

Here's a fitting song...
It's beautiful... give it a listen and get your heart moving.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OnGYZC7_ReU

Time is on My Side

2010-03-17T10:04:00.135-04:00

Wow, I have to admit that I'm a bit shaken by the irony. I was nearly finished with this blog entry until I hit Save, when in an instant, my entire entry vanished. I've tried everything to retrieve the original entry to no avail! It's funny because I'd been writing about, of all things, time. Now time has once again managed to slip through my fingers as I'm now rewriting today's entry.

I had referred to a portion of that Steve Jobs quote from the other day...

"Don't let the noise of other's opinions drown out your own inner voice.

And most important, have the courage to

follow your heart and intuition."

You're right, there's no mention of time in this quote, but following your heart can take quite some time, a lifetime, in fact. I've spent years trying to listen to my inner voice and follow my heart. In doing this heart following thing, I've often wrestled with conflicting opinions regarding how I have chosen to spend the majority of time.
According to many, my time would have been better spent doing other than what I have done. To me, deep down to the core of me, I believe differently. Still, it sort of stings a bit when I see the looks of shock and surprise when I share that I am primarily, a stay at home, Mom_ a homemaker. Other than occasional freelance opportunities of writing or illustration projects and my new venture in selling my artwork through Etsy, Michael, Sydney & Joe have had my full time attention. From the looks on people's faces, I could surely be spending my valuable time on more substantial and certainly more lucrative, pursuits.
When it comes to the topic of time, society has a huge impact on how we all see, use and value our time. The following everyday phrases spell it out, loud and clear:

Time well spent...

A time and season for everything...

In due time...

Time out...

Halftime...
Part time...
Full time...

Time and time again...

Desperate times call for desperate measures...

Time flies...

Time flies when you're having fun...

Longtime friends...

Time heals all wounds...

Time is money...

Only time will tell...

Killing time...

Time's a wastin'...

No time like the present...
Borrowed time...

Timing is everything...

One more for that list. My husband uses a phrase, "time burglar". He's referring to things that consume gobs of time before a person even realizes it. For example, FaceBook, Twitter and MySpace can be real time burglars.

There's a slue of songs that underscore our emphasis on time:
Summertime...

A Time for Us...

Nick of Time...

Time Passages...

Time After Time...

Time in a Bottle...

First Time Ever I Saw Your Face...

Too Much Time on my Hands...

One Day at a Time...

Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is?...

Face it, how we're spending our time is never far from our thoughts_ even in our music, we're constantly encouraged to make every minute count.
Joyfully, I've focussed the majority of the past two decades on breakfast time, lunchtime, snack time, dinnertime, time out, playtime, quality time, nap time and bedtime.
Thoughtfully, I'm walking through each day, recognizing that since time never stands still, the time has come to once and for all, put the noise of other's opinions to rest and focus on some genuine and much needed quiet time, wholeheartedly celebrating this precious inner voice of mine.

Dear God, I have to say thank you. Thank you for giving me the courage to listen to my inner voice that has guided me towards irreplaceable time shared with my family. When conflicting ideas sought to tear down the role I play, you helped me stand strong and guard the lifestyle I have chosen.
While I've been home with my family, I have not gone to the place of deciding the role others should play as I respect and appreciate so many professional women who are very dear friends. I celebrate these women, just as I celebrate my own contribution. Let them continue on their chosen paths and allow them every reward possible.
I know I could ask you to work on the hearts of the ones who happen to disagree with my choice to be a homemaker, but I don't need to go there because you are taking perfectly great care of my own heart, which is the only heart for which I am accountable. Help me to forgive and love all who don't understand and oppose my decisions.
Thank you for the creative resources you've provided to allow me this pleasure of being a stay at home Mom and wife. While it may not be the popular choice, it has been a precious and powerful journey for me and I will be forever grateful.
Watch over my friends and family today, God. Remind each of them how wonderful they are and how you care about the unique inner voice of every person. Give each one a heart that wants to hear and the courage to listen.

Truth Day Ten

2010-03-16T09:47:00.000-04:00

It's day ten of my thirty day adventure. Nothing fancy here, just conversational prayer - it's where you talk to God as if he were sitting with you on a comfy couch, like friends sharing a few precious minutes of time.

There's no fluff in the conversation because when you talk with a friend there's no need to dramatize or exaggerate. After all, that cool feeling of talking with a friend is that your friend knows you and loves you, just as you are.

"Your time is limited so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of other's opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary."

Steve Jobs (co-founder of Apple)

I believe we each have a heart that longs for the freedom of being transparent. We each long to be known, fully. We don't want to play nice all of the time and we're sick to death of watching our p's and q's for the sake of everyone else's comfort.

Okay, you caught me. I'm sick to death of watching my p's and q's for everyone else's comfort and I long to be known for who I genuinely am and also, for who I, someday, hope to be.

It's not that I'm suggesting we need to be rude and throw manners and common civility out of the window. I'm saying that we all have a desire to be 100% real with the thoughts and feelings that flow through our hearts, however misguided they may be at any particular moment, we crave to be true to ourselves. We want to be known for who we really are, right now, and known and encouraged for who we're really meant to be.

So, to accomplish what Steve Jobs describes, 'not letting the noise of other's opinions drown out your own inner voice', I suggest trying this convo with God type of, informal prayer. When you talk with God you can tell it like it is, good, bad and ugly because he already knows all about it, anyway.

If he already knows us why do we need to talk with him?

Prayer isn't for him, it's for us.

Like the dear friend that we turn to whenever we need a loving and patient ear, God longs to hear our words and he wants to be there for us. I even think it hurts him when we don't include him, just as it hurts a friend's feelings when we neglect to let them in on what we're going through.

Dear God, this is a big subject I've bitten off to chew. I'm beginning to see that prayer is the greatest opportunity I've ever been given. You want me to come just as I am, I don't even need to brush my hair or straighten my shirt to prepare for time to talk with you because you love the very heart of me, just as I am.

Oh, what a relief, God. Even with my own family, there are certain triggers for each member that I am always conscious of. Yes, even here in my own home, there are rewards and consequences for everything that I do or say.

If I choose to keep the peace I sometimes hold back my tongue - not that, that in itself is bad or anything, because sometimes, God, you know I genuinely do need to hold my tongue. But sometimes, God, I also need to let those reserved thoughts flow. I need to break the barrier of silenced thinking and run my feelings and ideas by one who only wants good for me, you, before voicing them elsewhere.

Thank you God that I can come to you just as I am. Thanks for not running the other way when I get down to the unsightly stuff that troubles me. For those times when I was too burdened to put my thoughts into words, even then I've sensed that you heard my heart and understood.

Talking with you through prayer is like accepting a ride rather than walking twenty-five blocks - I get to where I need to go soooo much faster. Thanks for putting such an efficient communication method into this life. Thanks for being a reachable God, always there, ready to listen.

Always Hungry

2010-03-15T10:09:00.000-04:00

My daughter Sydney hardly ever, practically never, passes up a tasty bite of anything. Born with an obvious appreciation for all things edible and a huge sweet tooth or twelve, she's never met a cake she didn't like. Me either. I guess the apple really doesn't fall far from the tree.

While she and I devour episodes of Food Network's Ace of Cakes with Duff Goldman and his sweet and incredibly talented costars, we imagine how cool it would be to have one of those eye candy cakes delivered to our doorstep. Would we hate to cut the cake and mess up the beautiful details? Sure, for about two minutes or so and then we'd both have fork in hand, ready to get to the real goodness of the creation - the tasty cake.

Funny thing about a sweet tooth, you can never really ever seem to have too much sweet stuff for your liking. If Duff were a close personal friend and we lived anywhere near Charm City Bakery, let me tell you, Syd and I would never bore of dropping in for a sample or two of the latest sweet thing.

Beyond tasty bits of pleasure, what I want for myself, Sydney, Mike, Joe and everyone else that I love and care about as well as for everyone reading is that same sort of sweet tooth constant appetite for the experience of knowing God.

It's not as big of a leap as you think, going from the subject of cake to God, I mean.

Knowing God is sweet. Having just a taste or two of God through time spent with him in your thoughts and prayer can really be like the icing on the cake - the one thing that makes the entire content of your day come together in one, worth every calorie and effort, bite.

It's even in the Bible, it says to taste him (God) and see that he is good.

O taste and see that the LORD is good;

How blessed is the man who takes refuge in Him!

Psalm 34:8

Good Morning, God.

If only you could be in the front of my thoughts in that prioritized position that is typically occupied by thoughts of my next meal. If I thought of you, considered you even half as often as I ponder what my next bite will be, you and I would be closer than close_ two peas in a pod.

How do I get that kind of relationship with you where I feel the need for you as much as I feel the need for my next bite? Do I really want to experience a relationship with you that is that intense - you know what a foodie I am... would I smother you? Would you grow tired of my constant cravings?

Speaking as a parent, God, who has watched my own children grow up and pass through various stages of need for me as a Mom, I have to say that while their type of need for me has definitely changed dramatically over the past decade, Mike and Sydney are still in need of a loving Mom who cares about them without reservation and honestly God, I like it. I like being needed by my children. Whatever they need, I have a sincere heart that wants to make it happen.

So, I'm guessing that you are fine, as my heavenly father, with me having a need for you and I bet that my growing hunger to know you more fully, makes you feel like maybe I'm finally coming around and getting a clue about what really matters most_ relationship with you, my creator, my provider, healer, heavenly father, bread of life and friend.

Today I ask that you keep my spiritual hunger alive and satisfied. Having a deep and genuine relationship with you will be the icing on my cake of life, it will be the one thing that I know I just wouldn't be as sweet, without.

Hungry (Acoustic) http://youtu.be/LC1efqBbg5M

Easy Like Sunday Morning

2010-03-14T13:03:00.000-04:00

I know it sounds funny but I just have to straighten this one thing out...

prayer, faith & everything to do with getting in touch with God is so, so,

so much easier than we make it.

Do you want a more fulfilling life_ complete with less anxiety, worry, fear,

doubt, complexities and an authentic life filled with a consistent renewing of

hope, joy, simplicity and peace?

Just tell God all about it & believe.

Easy Like Sunday Morning

Lionel Richie

Know it sounds funny, But I just can't stand the pain
Girl I'm leaving you tomorrow
Seems to me girl, You know I've done all I can
You see I begged, stole, And I borrowed

Ooh, that's why I'm easy
I'm easy like Sunday morning
That's why I'm easy
I'm easy like Sunday morning
Why in the world, Would anybody put chains on me?
I've paid my dues to make it
Everybody wants me to be, What they want me to be
I'm not happy when I try to fake it!

No! Ooh, that's why I'm easy
I'm easy like Sunday morning
That's why I'm easy
I'm easy like Sunday morning

I wanna be high, so high
I wanna be free to know
The things I do are right
I wanna be free
Just me, babe!

Ooh, that's why I'm easy
I'm easy like Sunday morning
That's why I'm easy
I'm easy like Sunday morning

Do you know what, God?

I think I often make things way too hard on myself by reading between the lines and making much more out of some life situations than I should.

I'm beginning to see how I can take the simplest of things and turn them into a tangled mess of thoughts that create doubt that I then spend way too much time trying to sort out. Sorry about all of that, God.

I want to enjoy life to the limits and in order to really enjoy what comes my way, I'm simply going to have to put you first in my thoughts.

Before all else, I'm going to start my day with heartfelt words of prayer to you and, throughout the day, whenever I'm tempted to fill in the blanks with suspicion, doubt or anything else capable of stealing my joy, I'm going to ask you, once again, to help me.

Thank you for being there to hear my heart and for caring about what goes on with me even when I act silly by making 'mountains out of moe hills'.

Help me in this journey of letting go and enjoying the easiness of life that

I believe you want me to experience. I really do want to let you handle whatever

comes my way.

So, finally, God, get me out of my own way so that the simpler, more humble me can show up and be all that you and I want me to be.

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

Yep, Like it or Not, This Is Me

2010-03-13T11:57:00.000-05:00

It's day seven and I have to say, wow! For a person who almost always hangs up her hat before seeing a vision completed, I'm impressed. Only twenty-three days left to my goal of thirty consecutive days of shared, conversational, God time.

Before you start getting all judgmental on me and saying to yourself, "Well, doesn't she think she's something!", let me disclose just a piece or two of my inner self that not many people ever see.

I'm a dreamer, but you probably recognize that by all of my lofty attempts to share my ideas, either through artwork, music or words. You may have noticed I mention being a dreamer in my blog description, so you can't say you haven't been warned. What you may not know about this dreamer, however, is how terribly accountable to the approval of others that I have found myself.

Back in the day, I'm talking way, way back, if you knew me it likely never occurred to you that I struggled with the need for approval or acceptance of others. I've always done my own thing, never really followed the crowd as far as trying to fit in with a certain group or idea or whatever.

If you're a high school friend, you knew me as that artist girl with the permed, bleached blond hair who was always carrying around that big paper portfolio heading across the building towards the music hallway. You would have known I was a Christian songwriter if you ever talked with me much, but that's about the deepest thing you knew about me because in no way, whatsoever, did I ever let on that I wanted or needed you to like me.

In college, it was much of the same. I was that artist chick that could always be found somewhere in the fine arts building or practicing with a vocal group somewhere in the campus chapel. For the most part however, even if you were someone that I called friend, you had no idea of how very, very much I wanted and sought your approval and respect, especially your respect.

My point is this, I don't think I'm alone in this need for acceptance, approval or sense of belonging - we all have it. It happened sometime during the creation process as we were knitted into existence, before calling it a day, God dropped in a 'needs others chip' before he let us loose to go on our merry little human way.

Finally, I'm saying it aloud. I need people. I love people and I need to receive whatever others bring to the table and I need to be willing to give of myself at that table, too. This dreamer doesn't want to dream alone, I want us all on that cloud of the next big idea, together.

What about you? Have you ever thought about your need for others? Have you convinced yourself that you're better off alone? Tell me. After all, it's only fair since I've told you mine.

Dear God,

It's kind of cool that you knew all of this stuff about me before I ever got to the place of recognizing it myself. On the other hand, why didn't you help me get real about this part of myself, before? Why am I sitting here at this midpoint in my life, just beginning to understand myself as if I only started this humanity job, yesterday?

Maybe you tried to show me long ago and I was just in denial, but can I now just say it aloud, though I am an artist type if there ever was one, and I can often or practically always be found marching to the beat of a different drummer, I need people.

Past hurts have made me withdraw from your community, God. I grew weary and became disillusioned by all of the smoke and mirrors of religion. I've even gradually began walking away from the light of your love all because of my bull headedness to embrace the reality that just like nearly everybody else, I not only need a relationship with you but I need relationship with other people, too.

So, today, God, as I pour this intimate detail out about myself to the infinite world of the internet and your infinite ocean of resources, I ask that the floodgates of potential friendships be opened. Let me put away my bumps and bruises where they belong, in the safe keeping of the past. Give me courage to continue stepping out in this pursuit of a closer relationship with you as well as with the huge world of possibilities you've so generously provided.

You Are There

2010-03-12T09:19:00.000-05:00

It's day six in this 30 day intentional prayer journey and so far, so good. By starting each morning with a little one on one time with God, I have noticed myself becoming less reactive and just a little more responsive.

This morning I've had a portion of Psalm 139 running through my mind.

Where can I go from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?

If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.

If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
if I settle on the far side of the sea,

even there your hand will guide me,
your right hand will hold me fast.

It was over a decade ago that this scripture was on my mind day and night and became my only prayer because it was all I could come up with to say during a terrible time of grief. I'll never forget a particular time when the words changed from spoken words into lyrics of a song, complete with melody. My heart was utterly broken, my thoughts knew only to meditate on God's word and as I did so, God provided my broken heart with a song to envelope the precious encouraging scripture.

I had been afraid to let go and allow the grief that i felt to pour out of my eyes through tears because I had honestly felt like if I did let it begin to pour, it would never ever stop. I thought my kids would end up having to live through yet another tragedy of seeing their Mommy carried off in a straight jacket because the grief of losing their brother and grandpa, within mere weeks of each other, had made their Mommy, finally, lose it.

But through that Psalm, that song, my heart was reminded that it didn't matter how low the sadness might take me, God would be there. If I fell to the floor in sorrow, Jesus would come and watch over me, meet me and keep me as I let the gates open and allow the pain to flow.

Oh, Dear God,

How could I ever forget the places you've met me? I've been lower in spirit than anyone should ever have to live through and yet I did go there and lived.

You met me in my darkest moments, moments that I thought would take my own life. I was so broken that I believed that completely feeling even another second of the pain would be more than I could handle, but I handled it, because you were with me.

I know that somewhere there are parents losing children in this very moment and I pray that somehow, someway, they become acquainted with your unbelievable love and comfort. For those losing a parent, remind them that just as Mom or Dad was there for them in the ways that they were able, you can be there for them in a parental way that would make even the best version of a parent, dim by comparison.

For anyone feeling like the next blow of sadness will surely break them beyond repair, let them know that with you, they are able to meet any disappointment or loss.

For all of us just plodding along right now, with no big sorrow at our doorstep, let us learn to come alongside those who are hurting without fear of not doing or saying the right things. Let us rise to the occasion and be who you created each of us to be, a dear friend, a brother or sister to another.

Let me never ever forget that no matter where joy or tears may take me, I will never be out of reach from your spirit.

I'm Not Perfect

2010-03-11T09:18:00.000-05:00

Mom reminded me of her imperfection. It's funny when I write those words, after all, I'm her, well into adulthood, forty something daughter. While I love my Mom to pieces and could not imagine there ever being a better Mom on the planet, I'm well aware that my Mom isn't perfect and neither am I. If you have any doubts about my imperfection, just ask my kids.

At 84 years of age, Mom mentioned her all too quick temper that raises its ugly head whenever even the slightest harm poses threat to one of her loved ones. She confided that there were many days when she was raising my four older brothers and my sister (I came a little later) when household chores and such distracted her from her preferred specific prayer time with the Lord. There were times where all she did was briefly run through the list of thanksgiving and need silently to the Lord as she went about doing the household business of the day. She says that while she knows God still heard her prayer, those days almost always proved more challenging than the days where she had made the time to talk, one on one, through conversational prayer, with God. She'd catch herself being 'touchy' - more easily agitated and as a result, she'd say things she wished she hadn't said and did things she'd regret doing.

The days where her personal time with God was clearly defined, she recalls as having been smoother, even though the challenges of those days were certainly just as physically and emotionally demanding as the days when she would pray on the run.

I don't know about you, but just imagining the daily tasks required to raise five young children makes me quickly aware that there were likely not many, if any, easy days for my Mom. But it was during those harried days of young parenthood when she realized the value of making a special effort to talk with God through intentional prayer. Those difficult days made her recognize the truly good and powerful thing she had going with God because of the personal time she chose to spend with him in prayer.

Dear God,

I wish there were always something clever to say about how I am learning to value our time together, but I know that sometimes the lessons in life are woven within the ups and downs of everyday stuff and don't always come forward like an obvious red bow on a package.

Thank you for the simple, everyday life stuff that makes me realize once again that you care for imperfect me. I thank you that you taught my imperfect Mom that lesson, too, because her decision to make time for you gave me the best imperfect Mom a person could ever hope for.

Help me to latch on, once and for all, to this powerful thing called prayer. Just like my Mom, though my chores are not as difficult as raising five youngsters, I want to be able to sense your presence and ease because I chose to include you in my day. I want to recognize the difference in my day when I don't invite you to join me through prayer. Even if it hurts me, even if I feel worn down and exhausted or fed up and angry, make me well aware of when I overlooked the opportunity of inviting you to join me.

I know that just because I pray to you that everything won't be a piece of cake.

I believe, though, that when I do specifically pray to you, whatever comes my way within that day will be easier to handle as you would like me to handle it. I believe that you can keep my quick temper in check. I believe that time with you will be like having my own personal spiritual trainer by my side that will tell me to stand tall when I feel discouraged and want to give up. I believe that my prayer time with you will better equip me to handle everything that comes my way_ the good will seem even better and the rough patches will miraculously appear doable.

So, make me aware, God. When I've forgotten you by neglecting to really speak with you personally, let me feel it. Whatever it takes, wake me up and help me know to draw near.

Day Four - Hungry For More

2010-03-10T08:41:00.000-05:00

While definitely still revved up from Monday, I'm finding myself searching for new hints from God that it really is important to individually pray, in an intentional way, every day.

Having a rough starting Monday turn into an opportunity to hear my eighty-four year old Mom speak so confidently that God is not only with her, but favors her, because they are 'close' due to daily personal prayer, lifted my heart to an entirely new rung on the faith ladder regarding the importance of personally connecting with God though prayer.

At a simple little ladies meeting at church last night, God provided another, to important to overlook, reason for me to press on in this shared, thirty day journey of intentional prayer.

As a matter of fact, he may have even boosted me so much that I've skipped a rung or two in that faith ladder.

With my thoughts of late being so insistent on my own sense of need to draw near to God through personal conversational type prayer, it sent me for a loop when the emphasized topic for the evening was none other than the fact that God himself, longs to know us. Did you read that correctly? Yes, yes, you did. I'm saying that the same God that spoke every beautiful thing into existence, longs to know us.

If you're anything thing like me, you can easily come up with at least a handful of reasons why you could surely cross your own name off of that list of those who God longs to know. Given even a second to doubt our worthiness to be of interest to God is probably the number one reason so many people neglect to ever personally seek the one who made them. How could anyone ever think that they are good enough that God would be even remotely interested in knowing them, much less longing to know them?

The only explanation I can come up with is that because he made us, he just wants to, no, longs to, not only know us but genuinely love us. We don't have to fix ourselves up or change a thing for him to want to know us because he sees us as we really are, inside, where it counts. It makes no difference what you have or who you know, where you've been or where you're going. It's not about us being good enough to seek him but completely about him being big enough, loving enough and generous enough as the creator of us that he earnestly longs to know us.

It's like we are by either the ones we've brought into this world, like our own kids or those we've invested in through marriage or friendship, we know these people, we love them beyond description and usually, we find ourselves wanting just a little more time to share with them. We long to know more fully, those we love.

Dear God,

I'm relieved to hear that you want to know me and, honestly, a little puzzled, too. I can think of a thousand reasons why I'm not worthy of your precious God time - there are so many hurting people in the world right now that have much more urgent and obvious needs. Still, in your huge capacity to care for all you've created, you long to know me.

I have a confession to make, God, hearing that you long for a relationship with me makes me feel so wonderful, so relieved because I can see that it isn't about me being important or good enough to grab your attention, but it's about how much you desire to know and enjoy the company of all you've created, which includes everybody, even scuffed up, me.

I'm sorry for all of the times I've ignored you. All of those days that I didn't make an effort to personally talk with you must have hurt you to the point of wanting to give up on me, but I'm so thankful that you haven't. I appreciate that you did hear my casual attempts at prayer, all of those be with them prayers on the run and the gratitude for needs you've provided and stuff like that. I'm sorry that I haven't been giving you more thoughtful and intentional time.

Today, I'm looking for all of the ways that you will let me understand you more clearly. I'll be watching for the ways that you show your desire to know me more - you can count on that. I definitely want to know you more. Something inside of me longs for you, too.

Thank you for watching over the kids. Sydney seemed to feel pretty good about the FCAT's on Tuesday and today she headed out for more testing with a confident smile on her sweet little face. Mike's having a tough time feeling well the last couple of days. I hate it when he's sick and I know that you probably hate it, too. Help him feel better, God. He has so many important decisions to make in these next few years, so, help him realize his unique purpose for being in this world and let him make choices using the part of his heart that I know you have entered. Help him to sense how precious he is, even when he's being a typical tough, teenage cookie.

Be with Iz at work - thankfully, he said yesterday went just fine. Thank you for the bits of freelance work that helps us make ends meet. Thank you for the paintings that have sold. Help me be better at all of that sort of thing and help the positive message of our artwork come through loud and clear because Iz and I want to create artwork that in one way or another gives joy and points directly to goodness that comes only from you.

Watch over my Mom, as I know that you are, and take care of everyone else that I love and care about, too. If I named them on this blogged prayer they might get mad. You know who I'm talking about about... there are so many names that crossed my mind just now and I know that you know every single person and that you long to hear from them, too. I pray that someday soon, God, you do.

Amazing Day Three

2010-03-09T08:51:00.000-05:00

It's only day 3 in this 30 day journey of giving God some intentional prayer time. I don't know if I'll ever get to that place of praying like my Mom has prayed all of my life - but I know that I want to get there, now, more than ever.

Yesterday seemed like a horrific test of some kind as one by one, little triggers that often discourage me, were pulled. It was stupid little stuff that probably wouldn't trip up anyone who might be watching my life on the sideline, but to me, the day seemed loaded with an arsenal of pinches and pokes aimed my way.

Each pinch tempted me to pick up the phone and complain to my husband, you know, wearily lay it all on his patient ears, but I resisted the urge to purge on him or anybody else. Instead I prayed in my mind and asked God to help me shed the hurts without allowing them any additional insult.

Not only did praying work, I felt at the end of the day like I was rewarded beyond belief when I spoke on the phone with my Mom who is now 84 and lives hundreds of miles, away.

It was just supposed to be a "How are ya doing today, Mom?," call. Little did I know that Mom had had a rough morning. A severe headache out of nowhere caused her to go to bed.

'The pain had hit like never before, right across the eyes and a weakness set in", she shared.

She was going to call my sister in law and wanted to find that list of stroke warning signs I had sent her, but the pain was too much. As she lay down, she called on the one that she's called on so many, many times before... Jesus.

She said she started feeling better but felt she had to rest and so she did, peacefully, until I called.

To make a very long conversations a little shorter, together we figured out that she had stopped taking an important medication to help in the prevention of strokes. When the bottle had run empty, she'd thought she was finished and had neglected to refill.

A phone call or two later, her medicine was on its way to her via my brother who had just happened to be two minutes from the pharmacy when I called him. He said typically he wouldn't have been around that area at that point in the day but he had given a man a ride home.

The closing words with my Mom will ignite my faith for the rest of my own days.

Her parting words with me were,

"Renee, God takes care of me because I talk to Him. I talk to Him every day,

you know that I do.

I talk to Him about everything that I'm thankful for and I tell Him

all my worries about my family and friends.

Because I talk to God, God favors me.

I know that God cares deeply about me because I show Him

that I care deeply

because I talk with Him

every day."

To a daughter feeling an increasingly urgent need to get closer to God through genuine old fashioned, conversational type, prayer, those words played like music to my ears, light to my path and an indescribably empowering wind beneath my spiritual wings.

Dear God, I know that you hear me.

Thank you for those precious words from my 84 year old Momma. Her confidence in claiming your divine favor ran a surge of recharging faith from my head to my toes that I will surely never forget.

The love that you so generously poured out through a difficult Monday was like a natural hot spring that makes me just want to stay inside of it, forever. Hearing my humble little Mom, who never brags about anything at all regarding herself, proclaim without an ounce of hesitation that you are with her in an especially close and comforting way because of the heart for prayer that you gave her and she has been obedient to, spoke to me a in a measure of truth that I know nothing else could ever compare, so I thank you.

Thank you, thank you, thank you for making your desire to be close to me, so real.

For today, be ever closer. Especially watch over Mom and every other person facing the challenges of aging or sickness, alone.

Watch over Sydney as she faces the stressful FCAT's this week as you know how standardized tests tend to freak her out. Be with Michael and help him finish up his last few senior credits with gusto and help him keep sight of the bright future you have planned for him druing this typically confusing stage of life. Take care of Iz and make all of the Charisma redesign issues flow like rain from that creative mind that you gave him and give him peace about his decisions at every turn.

For me, please keep this desire to talk with you, alive like never before.

Again, thank you for the reminder that you really do want to hear from me through daily prayer and that you want to hear from everyone else, too.

Absolutely, without a doubt, thank you for my beautiful and amazing, Christ following, prayer talking, Mom.

Where would we be without you? May I never, ever know.

The Motions of Monday

2010-03-08T08:29:00.000-05:00

Mondays are, by far, the most programmed day of my week.

Once I get out of the bed I automatically push that button that says routine and reluctantly yet somehow comfortably take on the mindset of "Get 'er done". To be more specific, I could add one word to that last phrase as my Monday morning mindset is honestly more like, "Just, get 'er done".

After driving Sydney to school this morning I popped out our latest mix CD and gave myself a little Z88 radio time for some inspirational music. Nothing out of the ordinary on that note as that's what I nearly always do after dropping off Sydney.

This morning, a song that I've heard so many times before hit me hard.

As I was sipping my coffee while sitting in the ridiculously long line of parents anxiously waiting to leave the hectic parking lot, those same old words from that same old song sounded brand new to these same old ears.

The song was "The Motions" by Matthew West.

Matthew West - The Motions OFFICIAL MUSIC VIDEO + Lyrics! http://youtu.be/r_rmCeAzqKc

After hearing that song, Monday is feeling like so much more than 'just another routine' first day of the week. Now, this day feels like an opportunity. Sure, all of the typical chores are still on my Monday plate and there's no way of getting out of them, but my mindset is different. Now I'm not just mindlessly going through the motions of what has to be done but focusing on how I intend to think as I go about getting those same old, routine type things, done.

On this, same old, same old, Monday, I have a choice to make and so do you. I can drag myself around all day and, "Just, get 'er done" or I can pray to God and say,

God, give me everything that I need to make today count for something good. Help my attitude be joyful and help me to appreciate the activities that I get to do. Let me be kind and patient when I run errands and let my words to Joe and the kids, and everyone else that I speak with, be encouraging and loving.

Thank you, God, for today. Thank you for the routine tasks including the ones that I often wish I didn't have to do. Remind me to expect to find something meaningful at every turn. I don't want to walk through this day that you made in auto mode which will cheat me out of celebrating the good stuff and,in doing so, likely hurt you because,

This is the day which the LORD has made; Let us rejoice and be glad in it.

Psalm 118:24

Matthew West - The Motions OFFICIAL MUSIC VIDEO + Lyrics! http://youtu.be/r_rmCeAzqKc

Here's What I'm Thinking...

2010-03-07T08:22:00.000-05:00

I'm thinking about beginning a thirty day journey into the realm of actually doing what God tells us to do about a million, bazillion times or so throughout Scripture, Sunday sermons and His still soft voice that can be heard within ourselves whenever we stop and listen.

It feels risky, honestly, to share this with anyone, let alone everyone via the internet but I might as well hang it all out there and trust that it'll be alright since I'm pretty certain that I'm a heart on the sleeve type of gal, through and through. Might as well make this entire effort true to who I know myself to be.

Who knows, maybe this journey is meant to be shared? Maybe someone else out there needs to hear that this childhood churched, basically, nice kind of person who, to her knowledge and best attempts, tries to do and say the right things most of the time, feels the need to pray... really, pray.

I guess I'll start right now.

God, do you hear me? I know that you've heard from me many times before in casual passing thoughts throughout the day or when there was no other way, but now I'm having this conversation just because I want to.

Are you there? I believe that you are because I wouldn't be wanting to have this talk unless deep down I believe that you are listening. Really, I don't think I'd be having this desire to connect with you unless you put it there by speaking to my heart the other day.

I'm keeping it short this morning because I need to get moving myself towards church_ it's Sunday, you know. Anyhow, please be with me today. I want to feel you near me in my thoughts.

Be with our pastor as he speaks - let him sense your leading in the words that he delivers.

For all of the young families that are heading out to services all over the world_ let their ways be smooth. Calm fussy babies and let there be peace between husbands and wives.

Help church wary teenagers and other young adults who'd rather not go to formal services have their own personal experience with you within the walls of their strong searching hearts.

For the seniors in our lives, let them feel especially cared for today as they make way to your house for worship or as they quietly sit in front of their televisions waiting for words of Your hope.

I pray all of this because I want to. I know that you want to hear from me.

Amen.

Have You Heard?

2010-03-06T13:30:00.000-05:00

Have you ever stopped to listen to yourself? As recently as just a few days ago, I did, and here is what I learned from what I heard...

When entering this conversation in no way did I think that it was going to be anything different than your average exchange of words. She talked a bit, I responded. I talked a bit, she returned the favor. You get what I'm saying.

Suddenly, something in the flow changed. It may sound a bit egotistic (yuck) but somewhere in that conversation, I began to hear my own words. As I spoke the words suggesting that someone in my life that I am terribly concerned about should try humbling themselves and literally praying, aloud, to God, it was if someone else were saying those exact words to me.

I heard the words of a verse , 2 Chronicles 7:14, as they echoed somewhere behind my own, telling me that if I humbled myself and prayed, God would hear me.

To anyone who is reading I ask this question...

Do you believe in the power of prayer? If you do believe, do you pray?

Happy and Peaceful, New Year

2010-01-01T14:53:00.000-05:00

On this New Year Day, I'm sharing something from the bottom of my heart, an offering of hope,

requesting peace and understanding

to be ours in 2010.

For Christmas, Joe received Mitch Albom's , Have A Little Faith, from our daughter, Sydney. You might recognize the author's name from an earlier work, Tuesdays with Morrie. Joe devoured the book rather quickly and seeing his obvious pleasure, I'm now doing the same.

Already, I could share a handful of dog-eared passages that are especially meaningful to me but for now I just want to bend your ear, maybe your heart, towards this one simple exchange from page 161. Here, an aging Rabbi is explaining how he has tolerated other beliefs throughout his ministry while so often, his own faith has been anything but accepted.

"Look, I know what I believe. It's in my soul. But I constantly tell our people: you should be convinced of the authenticity of what you have, but you must also be humble enough to say that we don't know everything. And since we don't know everything, we must accept that another person may believe something else."

He sighed.

"I'm not being original here, Mitch. Most religions teach us to love our neighbor."

See, I told you. What gripped me was not a flashy lightbulb moment that accompanies a 'Wow, never thought of that before' kind of experience with bells, whistles or even a handful of leftover, New Year's fireworks kind of 'Ah-ha', attached. This is just a replay of the simple biblical instruction of how we can choose to live in peace...

Love you neighbor as yourself.

Happy New Year to everyone,

and by all means and

most sincerely,

may

peace be ignited.

Not Too Long or Late!

2009-12-29T11:29:00.000-05:00

It’s been a long time… honestly, too long.

2009 was a busy one at our house, just as the case for most everyone else, I imagine.

Nowadays, we have so many options regarding ways to say hello, how are you, I miss you and even I love you yet oftentimes I'm finding the words left unspoken, unwritten.

The options are growing this very minute with ways in which we can choose to communicate with those we value… yet, here I sit counting the days spent without trace of words shared across cups of coffee, airways or otherwise...

Sometimes, weeks on end pass without even a quick line exchanged between myself and very precious people on FaceBook or Twitter.

Too bad, my heart suggests.

It’s a pity to live without sharing the details of the good stuff or regret for the bad. What better way is there to learn than than through an experience shared?

People who need people are the luckiest in the world_ the old song that Barbara sang, says.

Time certainly does fly when we let it_

that same rapidly evaporating time counts, when we make it.

Wishing you a happy and connected, 2010!

With Love,

Joe, Renee,

Mike and Sydney

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2009-12-14T17:53:00.000-05:00

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Unedited

2009-07-17T14:03:00.000-04:00

Unedited... I'm really going to try, anyhow.

No colors or bold type, or anything.

This past Monday, July thirteenth, marked the thirteenth year celebrating the birth of my third baby, Ryan John.

Ryan was diagnosed with brain cancer when he was thirteen months old and died when he was sixteen months old. Had Ryan lived, I'd currently have the pleasure of three teenagers to call my own.

I guess I still have that pleasure though I'm guessing it's a little easier in that one of my three teenagers happens to live away from home, or in a better home, heaven.

Most of you know this chapter of my life. Most of you were with me when we welcomed Ryan into the world and there when we had to let go, in a way, and say goodbye. If you were there even just for the end, you know what a blessing it was to know Ryan and that even in death, you can understand that even during such a devastating time, it was a blessing to know him.

I only want to share this one thing right now and refrain from going any further.

Through all of this life and death stuff it has become very clear to me that love is eternal.

Love is the mightiest of forces that mankind will ever experience.

Love can withstand anything, just like scripture tells us.

Love even conquers death as when someone you love dies, the love that connects you, lives.

So this is all I have for you - this truth that love is so powerful that even dreaded and feared death cannot destroy it.

If you're thinking that you're not sure about love being able to conquer death in the way that I am meaning, which is to say that love lives on, forever, securely in our heart and mind - in the deepest part of our being, and never ever dies, then I challenge you to let go of everything, invest yourself fully into the celebration of someone else... you know, love them without fear of ever losing them...

and I promise you, they will be with you, through love, forever.

Love is win - win, even in loss.

(Ryan, this is dedicated to you, my 'Scooch Booch' - which is what I called you because of how you scooted across the floor as fast as you could whenever you heard the pantry door open or heard the sound of Grandpa's voice. I'm thinking there must be a huge pantry in heaven and that Grandpa is standing by it, holding the door open for you to gather all that you'd like.)

If Walls Could Whisper

2009-05-26T11:07:00.000-04:00

Hello, it's me.

It's been a while since I last took a minute to share some thoughts. I'm honestly a little ticked at myself for allowing this latest massive wordless gap but I'll spare you the rambling list of excuses as to why it has been so long.

On second thought, maybe I should share just one of the reasons, or excuses, depending on how you look at things, that I haven't written.

A few blogs back I said something about a quick thank you email I had written to a woman who has recently had the pleasure of opening our town's first community arts center called, "Gateway Center for the Arts."

Gateway is just a hop, skip and jump from our front door and watching the multimillion dollar facility come to be from nothing but a pile of sand to full blown fabulous has been an exciting journey, to say the least.

A family friend who had gotten to know this ambitious art center building woman sometime last year had invited my family and I to join them for a walkthrough tour of Gateway while it was still under construction. It was quite a treat as we were able to hear and see the inside story before the roof was even in place.

I'll never forget

the tour

because

as we cautiously shuffled across the sandy concrete slabs

our guide described each room in vivid detail, so vivid, in fact, that I could hear

the piano playing smooth jazz in the auditorium and I could see the guests strolling around

the gallery, sipping on sparkling glasses of wine and casually talking 'art'.

I'd been elated to be a part of this intimate little tour.

Let me say that again,

I'd been thrilled - downright, thrilled!

You might think that I was thrilled because I had hopes of my families artwork hanging in the soon to be gallery, being discussed over those sips of wine and tastes of cheese while smooth jazz elegantly plays in the background.

True, I must admit.

Yes, yes, I most certainly had been a little excited for those reasons. After all, nothing is better than creating artwork and seeing people enjoy it as they try to figure out something about what you, the artist, were trying to say with the shapes, the color or composition of the entire scene.

Anyhow, the possibility of our stuff one day hanging in this soon to be gallery

was just a small part of why I had been so excited about our new art center.

Maybe you think that I might have been wanting to get a job there since, as you know via a few postings back, my husband's salary took a significant hit and our health insurance premiums increased by a few hundred dollars per month.

The answer to that one is 'No'.

A potential job at Gateway was not the reason I was so glad to see those walls going up.

Now,

you're probably getting bored

with trying to come up with

reasons why I might be so happy about

an art center being opened nearby

so I'll just stop the storytelling prompting

and

tell it like it is.

I was thrilled to see Gateway Center for the Arts being built because just the fact that our little town had conjured up enough money and interest

in the arts to build a multimillion dollar facility

meant one definite, thing...

Art,

really

matters.

It was no longer only about art in Orlando - it was about art here in

beach bumming, Volusia County... in our very own tiny little city of DeBary!

All of the years of creating and embracing, eating, tasting and literally soaking up everything creative that I could get my hands onto was being affirmed as being something that mattered.

The building was proof.

The building spoke to me...

"Renee, if you do your art thing,

people will eventually 'get it'.

Someday soon, they'll understand

that you haven't been chasing an impossible dream

but fueling a very personal call and purpose."

That tour through the unfinished rooms of Gateway

allowed the walls to whisper...

"You just be yourself and put those ideas down on canvas

- let them work their magic! Believe

that there is a wall with fantastic gallery lighting waiting for your next piece

and when it gets your piece - it will be glad

and you'll be glad...

and the people who walk by the wall and look at the piece will be glad...

and the world will be a better place because

you did what you were put here to do."

Okay, maybe that last part about the world being a better place is me taking liberties and putting words into the mouth of the 'talking walls', but seriously - those unfinished walls spoke volumes to me. If those walls could have spoken aloud I'm sure that they would've, but even without actual words coming forth, those unfinished concrete blocks inspired my world weary, creative soul. My artistic spirit felt refreshed - my passionate energy was renewed.

Now, back to the reason I haven't blogged in such a long time...

Like I had said, I wrote this thank you email to the Gateway Center for the Arts Director (aka lady from the tour) after the grand opening that my family and I attended. I simply felt impressed to share that I appreciated the decade, yes decade, of dedication and commitment that it took for her to get Gateway up and running. I told her how much it meant to me that she was building something that would feed our neighborhood children's creativity for generations to come. I shared that our entire family was just a teensy weensy bit on the artsy side of things and that she could count on us to help out in any way that we could. I told her that I was so thankful that she hadn't given up, that she had been determined to see her vision through to the end.

Long story short, my email touched her heart. She replied saying that she liked my writing and that it meant a great deal to her that I took the time to thank her in the way that I had.

A few exchanges later and she asked that I help out with the Gateway Newsletter.

I said, "Sure".

Joe and I got busy on that and then she thought maybe I could take on serving as the volunteer PR person for Gateway, representing them throughout various venues of the media, etc.

I said, "Sure".

A month or so went by and I found myself answering so many emails, calls, etc, all concerning advertising events happening at Gateway. I became so busy with Gateway PR that I hadn't written a word on this blog or for any of my short stories or articles I'd been working on and definitely not a word on the two young adult novels I'd been outlining before all of the Gateway stuff and,

gasp...

I hadn't picked up a paintbrush, at all!

Truthfully, I had made the time to scratch up a bit of freelance illustration work to help us stay afloat after the salary cut and ridiculously outrageous insurance hike - but still, that was for the sake of the bottom line rather than the pursuit of my own creative endeavors. I was becoming angry with myself because I had recommitted, with my whole heart just this past New Year, , to being the artist that God created me to be and not get off track anymore and follow my dream of truly being, 'me' - crazy little, wordy, artsy, got to paint, got to write, me.

So, we still do the Newsletter and a few DeLeon paintings have hung on those mouthy walls, but I no longer do the PR thing for Gateway, not because I don't want to help or that I can't do it, but because I'm not supposed to, and I know it.

I'm supposed to write these little stories and keep you creative types on board with your own aspirations in the arts. I'm supposed to share with you how incredible it feels for my writing or artwork to get accepted here and there and how it hurts when it's not.

Tonight, I'm working with Joe and the kids painting a huge canvas for my son's school. Mike volunteered to provide a school spirit type poster for a special awards ceremony. Mike's a bit artsy, too, and his school has meant so much to him over this past year that he really wanted to do something special to tell the Principal, Teachers and staff, thank you.

We're painting a lion - it's their mascot.

We're doing it together,

The DeLeon's.

(The Lions)

It'll take all night and we'll likely snap at each other a few times over our differing artistic points of view, but I wouldn't have it any other way.

This is who we are...

so I'm living it,

with pleasure.

******************

I'd love to hear about your rabbit trails or meandering paths that have led you either away from or directly towards who you believe you are supposed to be. Write me - tell me about you.

Our, Not So Bright House

2009-04-04T20:53:00.000-04:00

Last week, Bright House repairman number three spent at least that many hours, three plus, at our home trying to find the cause of the repetitive self rebooting routine our cable company owned, state of the art DVR seemed determined to pursue. *Bright House is the cable company which provides our television reception as well as service for our telephone and Internet.

First, visiting repairman number three thought the problem to be a wire/connection issue so he replaced all of those which are so conveniently located behind the large and fragile flat-screen and the long, heavy cabinet on which it resides. Unfortunately, regardless of all of the smart new wires and connectors which were now keeping company with the troop of recently freed dust bunnies, the self rebooting continued.

Next, he'd said it must be our state of the art DVR - so out went the precious DVR box along with all of our favorite shows we had so carefully selected, recorded and saved. You have to understand, it was an especially huge bummer to lose our programs as we were looking forward to piling on the couch and watching every last one of them over the much anticipated long, three day weekend, which was just a measly day or two away. (You've gotta enjoy the three day weekend deals whenever you're so fortunate as to have them come your way, even if all you intend to do is relax and enjoy a little TV time with the family - you just do.)

After the shiny new box that had compromised our weekend was in its place and brand new wires and connectors left the rebooting problem unresolved, repairman number three suggested that the problem must be in the attic.

(I've got to be honest with you, until then, I had no idea that Bright House had anything in our attic.)

Anyhow, was the repetitive self rebooting caused by whatever the heck it is that Bright House keeps in our attic?

Nope.

The problem was in the ground.

Please take note...

One week prior to repairman number three's lengthy service visit,

the following events had occurred:

Since I had noticed BH trucks around Saxon Woods (our subdivision's name) more than usual - my guess was that we were not the only ones with the rebooting issues. When I had originally placed my service call to BH, however, their response was as if our house was the only one experiencing problems as there was not any indication of technical issues at their end.

A day or so later, BH repairman number one came for the first visit regarding our repetitive self rebooting issues. After about an hour of working on our DVR/cable box (no need for a new one, he'd said) and self rebooting being fixed, (or so he'd thought), the repairman shared his conclusion that whatever was causing the rebooting stuff to begin with, must be coming from outside because the work he had done inside was more or less a band-aid rather than a complete solution. He said he'd create a new work order requesting BH to service the 'outside stuff' he'd suspected to be the real culprit, as he himself could not address those issues as 'he was an inside guy', rather than 'an outside guy'.

Fair enough.

A couple of days past, the 'outside guy' came and left, rather quickly as I recall, saying that everything should be working fine, now. (I think our adorably fluffy, tail-wagging dog had scared him.)

Then, just a day or two later, our Internet connection started wigging out!

(Bad problem since I work from home.)

At this point, do you suspect that the self rebooting routine had possibly returned to plague us?

(Wow, you're quick.)

Finally, repairman number three, who had spent three plus hours in nearly every corner of our house and who had eventually dug up our cable stuff in the front yard ... saved the day, my career, sanity and who knows, possibly even my marriage. Yep, that's right, even though he'd started at the wrong end of the problem (inside rather than outside) and wrecked our long weekend as he'd failed to save our precious DVR'd shows by allowing that shiny new DVR to take our old DVR's place, repairman three became my hero. I mean, he'd embodied such dedication, such resolve , not to mention an enormous wealth of technical knowledge.

Though it was most certainly a

horrifyingly, traumatizing hardship,

I'm happy to announce that

my resilient family and I

survived the loss of

two new episodes of

Trust Me, The Mentalist, Damages,

Survivor, CSI, Ugly Betty

and LOST.

How we'll ever catch up and let alone, understand where the heck we are in the

flip-flopping story line of our favorite epic drama series,

LOST,

we may never know.

Do you think that Bright House has a guy to fix that?

"Thanks" ... Dr. Seuss!

2009-03-06T12:20:00.000-05:00

"From there to here, from here to there,

funny things are everywhere."

(One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish)

Before gathering the courage to share my news with my ever hopeful and supportive home team, I silently read and reread the letter a few times, carefully refolded it and placed it in it's tattered envelope for safe keeping.

No,

not a glutton for punishment or anything near that, but...

wanted to keep the letter as a reminder,

a token of months of effort

and

lifetime of dreams dared to dream.

Finally, after rehearsing what to say in my head and making myself be ready, on Monday, March 2, I sat at our family dinner table and shared that I had received my very first official rejection letter from the children's publisher to which I had submitted my two hundred and something paged, young adults manuscript, '360, Yours Truly', three months earlier.

When I finally managed to utter the words conveying my heartbreaking defeat, my wonderful son, Mike, reminded me that I had been rejected on none other than the Birthday of Dr. Seuss.

Let me tell you_ with complete transparency, that tiny piece of trivia carried with it a huge amount of priceless encouragement for this 'wanna be published' writer.

In a moment, you'll likely agree as to how valuable Mike's words had been.

Now, ... a quick word about the decision mentioned a minute ago regarding keeping that unfortunate tear stained letter. Maybe you're wondering...

Why keep something that screams

a big fat 'No'

to your dreams?

Well, ... it seems that rejection

has come to many before me

who have not only survived,

but conquered.

Like, say...

Dr. Seuss.

That got me to thinking...

Did you know that it is said that Dr. Seuss was

rejected by publishers

over 100 times?

One hundred times!!!

That got me to thinking a bit more... in the past...

I've possibly handled rejection in a somewhat unhealthy way.

I know, ...right?

I'm sure that you can hardly believe that of me...

I mean, after all, aren't I known to be an...

incredibly strong,

flexible and

resilient creature?

(Hey, I got one little rejection letter - I can still dream, can't I?)

Even so, I must confess that it's true. In the past, rejection defeated me. The sad part is that

it didn't have to, but, ... I allowed it!

(Now, do you see

how terribly large

those well meaning though misguided

'buts' can be?)

There... it's out!

Yes,

it's sad but true.

In the past, ... rejection ... defeated ... me.

For example, did you know that I am a teacher, songwriter, vocalist, visual artist and aspiring children's author? Really, I am. (Until recently, it may have been difficult to notice.)

Really, though.

Accepted, approved, received or not,

I am, or so I believe that I am!

Except, of course, when

I'm allowing myself to wallow

in the sea of self doubt

that so often accompanies,

... rejection.

Here's a little tidbit of reality that I've often tried to ignore...

Creativity is

filled with situations

that pose the

practically inevitable possibility of

...rejection!

(GO FIGURE!)

Truth be told then,

I should be familiar with rejection,

at ease with the often critical and merciless judgement of others

and practically able to...

leap small art institutes,

museums and music directors...

in a single bound...

:o)

(Unfortunately for me, however, not so much.)

Lucky for me, though,

people can change

and changing,

I am.

No more tears, no more hiding.

No more quitting, no more running.

No more blaming, no more denial...

(ouch)

no more

doing anything other than,

that's right...

trying, again!

So,

I celebrate that I received

my first official rejection letter from a major publisher

on none other than

the Birthday

of our beloved Dr. Seuss!

As a matter of fact...

I, Renee DeLeon,

by the power made possible by

a lifetime endurance of multiple rounds of

heart ripping rejection_

after of which

I have picked myself up_

dusted myself off_

and tried, tried, again...

hereby formally

invite you...

to celebrate my rejection!

That's right_

celebrate!

Hey, if I am so blessed as to be able to follow in

even a few of his creative footsteps,

that leaves

only ninety-nine rejections

left to go!!!

(Laughter,

or so they say,

is the best medicine.)

Thanks to the determination and perseverance of Dr. Seuss to NOT allow repeated rejection to decide his contribution to the literary world and unfathomable numbers of precious young readers, I celebrate my own rejection and count it as a means to strengthen my creative abilities, passion, ambitious dreams and own determination to continue to try, try and try, again.

Thing One and

Thing Two and

Horton Hears a Who,

could Dr. Seuss

have imagined

the incredible good

his own life's work

would do?

I think,

somehow,

he did!

:o)

:o)

Real Simple’s Life Lessons Essay Contest (My Entry)

2009-03-05T12:35:00.000-05:00

Best of everything to the gal who won - even though it wasn't me. :o)

Be sure to read her winning story contribution in the April Issue of Real Simple Magazine. In the meantime, here's the story that I submitted to the contest. I thought you might enjoy this blast from my past, that, by the way, really happened.

(My Entry)

On the best day ever, I was the mother of two children under the age of four.

I know what you’re thinking, “She’s crazy, or, not another lengthy, touchy, feely, warm and fuzzy story about the joys and woes of parenting!” Well, yes and no. I mean, you are partially right. While there have obviously been numerous joys and woes along the way, I’m sharing just one incredible day of our journey.

It was on this day that I learned that baby number three would be arriving sometime around the Fourth of July the following summer. As it goes with many autumn days in the northwestern Chicago suburbs, you could sense winter approaching. Blue skies had been replaced for gray and it was definitely a bit brisk outside. Since I hadn’t felt all that great to begin with, the short but chilly trip to the corner drugstore toting my just turned four year old son, Michael and his sixteen month old baby sister, Sydney, was proving to be about all this Momma could handle.

There was no real need to make that frantic call to my OB/GYN or even complete the frenzied hike to the drugstore, for that matter. I tried to talk myself out of the idea of bothering to buy that quick test in a box. I knew good and well what that little pink stick was going to say before I even started. Seriously, after having gone through the queasy and sluggish start of the day type of feeling two times before, I had a pretty good idea of what my incredibly fatigued and increasingly nauseous body was trying to tell me. Still, to market, we went. I guess I had to see it with my own eyes to believe it.

The not so quick trip had left us a bit cranky. After a bite of lunch and a naptime story, Michael and Sydney were ready for a nap. I could have used a nap myself but that little box on the bathroom counter was calling my name. It didn’t take more than a few seconds to read the result. I, mother of two under the age of four, was officially pregnant with my third. As expected as the outcome should have been, I briefly considered saving the stick as evidence to share the news with my husband, Joe.

Like any woman with even half a complete hormonal thought, I felt both elated and bewildered at the same time. As I pondered the various ways to share the news with Joe, who despite our recent careless romps was no more anticipating this turn of events than I had been, I carefully resisted the temptation to call my Mom and Sister for a practice run of sharing the big news. Understandably, given his hands-on involvement in the situation, Joe might not have appreciated being the third person in the know. That being said, I immediately threw myself into creating the perfect dinner. Nothing takes my mind off of worries and drains nervous energy like cooking something wonderful in the kitchen.

So there I was, up to my eyeballs in pasta, a big, fresh salad, warm bread, complete with homemade sauce accompanied by a lovely wine, for him. On past occasions, that old saying about the way to a man’s heart being through his stomach had proven itself quite true. Maybe it had actually been the too much of a good thing food coma that sets in and dulls the senses. Whatever it was, it had worked before and it was worth a shot.

The ringing phone startled me out of my intense dinner preparation and back into the reality of sleeping children who still needed about twenty more minutes of uninterrupted napping. I did the lightening fast dive for the phone and caught it after barely a full ring when I received the news we’d been waiting to hear for the past three weeks. We had qualified for the loan to purchase our first home.

I had to sit down for a second to soak it in and then squealed in excitement and gratitude. We’d been renting up until that point and we had been hoping, praying and saving so that we would finally qualify for a loan to purchase a home based on one income. It hadn’t been easy, but we had been managing to make ends meet and had finally gathered enough funds for a small down payment.

Wow, what a day! Now I was looking at a genuine twofer! A twofer is when you get two for the price of one and the news for this day was definitely a twofer! I had to wait to tell Joe because, by this point in the workday, he’d be on his way home and I had no way of reaching him. This was back in the early nineties when everyone didn’t have cell phones to deliver the, “I can’t wait to tell him news” like we do today. As you might imagine, it was now even harder to resist the urge to call my Mom and Sis.

Overwhelmed with joy I began to think of all of the times we had scrimped and saved in order to get to this point. We had lived so financially conservative and it was finally paying off. All of those times we had eaten in and rented movies rather than paying a sitter and dining out. The way too many tuna casseroles and hot dogs on the grill. The countless nights of tortillas and eggs for dinner. (Hey, it’s actually really good – you should try it.)

I was now in awe about this baby, too. As I’ve suggested, it wasn’t like we had been planning to add to the family at that point, or ever, for that matter. Honestly, though, I had always had a feeling that there would be three children for us. Now the timing seemed nearly magical. After all, a combo is usually the best deal on the menu and we were all about finding the best deal.

My thoughts raced as I tried to decide which big news I should share with Joe first. I finished making dinner and went ahead and fed the kids as it seemed that Joe was running a bit later than usual. I was tidying up the kitchen when he walked through our back door.

Michael raced to his Dad and with Sydney on my hip, we shared our usual hellos. Once hugs and kisses were exchanged, Joe could see on my face that I had a few things I’d been waiting to share. Likewise, Joe looked like some things were on his mind, too. We both started talking and before we knew it we had plates overflowing with changes for our growing family.

Joe had been given the news that day that the company he worked for would be relocating to Colorado and that he was invited to transfer. Unbelievable, right? We were having a new baby, approved for a loan to buy our very first house and being offered the chance to move to a new state. A twofer was one thing. I mean, at least twofer is an actual word. I don’t believe that the word three-fer even exists in the English language.

Again, my mind was racing and my hormones were surging. I imagine that my insides looked like the waves of the ocean before a hurricane hits.

(You will understand my reasons for that reference in a minute.) My feelings were all over the map. I thought of everything I’ve ever heard regarding the number three. Good things happen in three’s. There’s a three point shot in basketball and a triple play in baseball as well as third base, where I’d obviously passed on more than one or two occasions. In poker you can play three of a kind and in football there’s the three point field goal. There’s the triple threat of an amazingly qualified or talented person and the buy one get two free deals at the grocery store. Oh, remember that Commodores song, “Three Times a Lady”? If it involved the number three, this soon to be mother of three was doing the math.

Joe and I fell to our seats at the table where our overflowing plates of perfect pasta grew cold. Who could eat? In one day, the world had opened up in ways we would never have imagined just hours earlier. What a difference a day makes.

We ended up staying in the area and Joe found a new job. We moved into our brand new, three-bedroom home at twenty-three Ridge Court. Our beautiful third child, Ryan John, was born and officially joined our family on July thirteenth.

One more thing, in 2003, we moved to Florida. The very next year, our town was hit by three out of four hurricanes. No kidding. All I can say is that at least those three hurricanes happened on three different days.

Certain Uncertainty

2009-02-24T08:52:00.000-05:00

It certainly isn't hard to find uncertainty these days.

As a matter of fact, everywhere you look there are reminders of just how 'uncertain a time' we are living.

In our neighborhood, homes are currently selling for considerably less than their appraised value of a only year ago. So, how much is our home currently worth? Just how much equity do we have today and how soon can we buy a bigger house to fill with more stuff that we don't really need? Of this, I'm not certain.

Regarding my own family, like so many others, we've recently experienced a salary reduction and watched as coworkers have lost their jobs entirely. In my extended family, I have three brothers who are each self employed and work is scarce. What might our career and financial futures look like? Of this, I'm not certain.

Yesterday afternoon, I stopped for gas at Seven Eleven and paid $1.98 a gallon. As I drove my daughter to school this morning, I saw that the Shell station had regular unleaded for $1.89. (You should know that the previously mentioned Seven Eleven and the Shell station are less than a half a mile apart.) So, I ponder, how much will the next tank of gas cost me?

A few weeks back the price of gas was lower than I'd seen in years. Last week the price seemed to be rapidly climbing back up and was going for just over $2.00 per gallon - I had thought for sure that the little breather from the high prices of gas had drawn to a close. I recall quickly filling up my tank before the price potentially climbed even higher. I guess I was wrong.

Now the price of gas has dropped by nine cents, overnight.

How much will it cost me to fill up my tank this Friday? I'm just not sure.

With all of this uncertainty, a certain (sorry) amount of unrest is expected, and with unrest, anxiety rises and we human types sometimes get a little nervous. You know, we begin taking cautious measures in attempt to grasp at least a thread of some kind of sense of security. We begin to make little changes that we can control, like say, spend less on food by preparing meals at home rather than dining out, brown bagging lunch, carpooling and spending less on our extravagant excessive expensive everyday indulgences like say, our daily

$4 - buck, afternoon coffee.

I believe that I absolutely have to encourage all of us, however, by noting that while we must certainly adjust our spending to fit our declining incomes, at the same time,

we certainly have to keep marching forward, keeping our eyes on the prize and

dreaming the 'American Dream' of hope and prosperity, that is,

if we ever expect to return to, ...the good old days.

You know, the good old days... when home prices were actually more than what was paid for the home five years earlier and all of the ridiculously expensive, name dropping handbags and lavish weekend shenanigans were no brain-er conversation starters around the old water cooler.

Ah, the good old days... when over paying for a fancy purse meant that you were one of the lucky ones who didn't have to worry about how much you spent on a silly purse that you'd end up tossing onto the closet shelf to collect dust within just a few short weeks as you made room on your hip for the newest and most glamorous, overpriced handbag.

Yes, it looks as if ... those ... good old days ... are gone.

Old bag, new bag or no new handbag, we certainly must keep marching on.

Our marching forward is what keeps our world, as we know and love it, in motion.

When we stop marching, we stop needing marching shoes... in other words,

we all stop spending and

our prosperous world stops turning.

When we, the people, stop spending, we all stop earning.

It's really that simple. It's like this:

If I don't purchase new marching shoes, the store where I shop for shoes needs to have fewer employees and buy less merchandise from their suppliers. Suppliers, in turn, have to cut back on the number of employees to make the shoes as well as cut back on the amount of materials they purchase from which to make the shoes. Leather, vinyl, canvas and other shoe type material manufacturers then have to cut back on their supply purchases and now those new shoes that I didn't purchase has affected the farmer and his family, because they are the ones who raise the cow that supplies the hide that provides the leather.

You get the idea.

See what I'm saying?

We simply must keep marching forward.

It's true, due to the salary reduction that I mentioned earlier, my family currently has less income from which to budget expenses like new marching shoes or even an extra tank of gas necessary to make that family getaway to go 'budget friendly' camping.

But make no mistake, this American family is marching forward, full steam ahead, not looking back and expecting a better day to come, tomorrow.

If not tomorrow, then the next day.

If not then,

soon, and hopefully,

in the nick of time

and certainly,

...soon enough.

Until then, we're still going camping - though maybe we'll camp a little closer to home. Regarding new shoes, I should start saving up my pennies and consider buying some new hiking boots rather than another pair of cute sandals, and I'm thinking I'll be using the hiking boots for more than just the next camping trip. These new financially accountable and credit-less roads could prove to be a little rough and tough on the stylishly french pedicured, tootsies. So, off with the sandals and on with the boots.

Oh, ... I'll be paying cash for the new hiking boots - no overpriced credit purchase for this

desperately trying to be positive and happy, :o) camper.

I've learned my lesson, finally, and the funny thing about it is that if I'm honest, I'm reminded of how I lived life when I was a young, struggling to make ends meet college student as well as a period a few years back when my family and I had excessive medical bills that nearly ate us alive...

Back in those days, I bought new hiking boots when I could afford to pay cash for them, or else I borrowed some boots from a friend. Back then, I got out of the house for a little 'break' by stepping outside and chit chatting with a dear neighbor or two instead of making a $5 to $10 date to meet and greet at the trendy corner coffee shop.

We can do this. We can live on what we have rather than what we wish to have or think we should have.

We're Americans.

We created our own country, for crying out loud,

we can certainly do this.

*******

Hey, do you have any money saving activities or meals that you honestly enjoy? Seriously. Let's help each other out and toss around some budget defying food and fun... American Style.

Come on - help out a fellow financial crisis survivor - I know you have some great ideas. Together, we can do this.

Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Someday...

2009-02-12T10:45:00.000-05:00

Well, as you can see, my someday never came, or maybe it came and went without me realizing it had arrived. Whatever the case, while I did go and look for the book that I mentioned in the previous blog, which I will tell you about in just a line or two down, I never did get outside to walk Bear-bear on that chilly February day last week. Remember, it was cooold outside.

Putting off what I need to do

until tomorrow

is not a

new occurrence

for me.

I know you thought better of me than that, right? Okay, maybe not, especially if you REALLY know me, but still. I'd like to think better of myself but the truth is hard to ignore when all of your 'somedays' seem to be passing you by as if they are on a jet plane and you are in a rowboat without a paddle.

Now, onto an easier thing for me to talk about, about that book...

It's called, "The Best Year of Your Life", written by Debbie Ford, a #1 New York Time's bestselling author.

I'm mentioning this book because my husband and I read the book last year and frequently find ourselves looking back to it for encouragement and guidance as we are trying so hard to strive toward the life that we've hoped to live for what seems to be like, well, ...forever.

I'm sharing this sensitive info because I believe I've connected a dot or two that is actually going to make some sense of these goals and lists, dreams and aspirations we creative types, and most other types, too, carry somewhere in our minds whether spoken or not.

If you read my second post to this blog, you'll recall that I challenged you to write down a list of things that you want out of life, not out of this year, but how you want things to turn out as a result of living out your entire life. In the next blog, I shared something about following up each item that you listed as something that you want out of life with an action or plan to accomplish how you think you can get to that place where you're living that thing that you listed as something that you want out of life.

Now, I've recognized what I believe to be a critical/pivotal final step.

Name something that you really want out of life...
Decide what you must do in order to get there...
Name how you expect to feel when you actually accomplish that thing that you truly want out of life

Call me simple but that was HUGE for me.

Debbie Ford is the instigator I must credit for this third step as she addresses the issue of someday and other fantasy based living.

Yep, you heard me, someday is a fantasy.

Someday is 'out there' somewhere, and you never actually find it because it is never actually there-there, it is somewhere, sometime, somehow... you get the picture.

Since someday isn't really accountable, all we actually have is now.

So, she suggest that when you identify a goal (that thing that you want out of life from that list that you wrote), take yourself to a place in your thinking and focus on the feeling that you believe you will feel when you accomplish that goal. Here's an example:

Say, you've acknowledged that you want to do something in life that will make you famous. It's quite possible that what you are looking for in that pursuit of fame is more than just being recognized on the bus or at the grocery store. Maybe being famous will give you a sense of feeling 'known' for who you are and what you can do.

So, you want to become famous because you will feel known, loved and appreciated for what you can do and who you believe that you truly are.

Guess what, you can be known, loved, appreciated for what you can do and who you believe that you truly are, today, right now.

Sure, if you work towards that goal of being famous you will be known by millions for all of those qualities, but if you want, you can enjoy the feeling you expect to enjoy someday, when you become famous, now, right this very moment.

If you'd like to experience those feelings that you expect to feel when you become famous, figure out what you can do in your daily life to create those very same desired feelings. That's right - the ball is in your court, right now, not someday, now.

Maybe you can share more of yourself with the people close to you so that they will appreciate who you are even more and will possibly even tell you how special you are and how much you mean to them. If you want to be a famous chef, for example, you can cook for your friends and leave them smiling ear to ear every time you get the chance to cook for them. If they're anything like me, they're going to tell you what an incredibly wonderful cook that you are, right then and there, and you will feel recognized, immediately, for you effort and accomplished cooking. (Side note - if you're hanging around people that won't say a single kind word to you after you've poured your heart and soul into a meal that they've just devoured, find some new people to cook for, people that deserve the fruit of your generous labor. Seriously.)

On a personal note...

One way I can think of to create those feelings I would expect to feel when I become officially recognized for my painting, writing or inspirational speaking is to practice all of those creative ventures, everyday, in every venue that I can possibly reach.

(Be nice, I'm sharing my heart here.)

I made myself attempt to complete a manuscript for a novel, remember? That was a goal of mine for a long time (years and years) that I never even completely attempted until I required myself to take the time to write a little bit everyday until I finished an entire story.

Guess what, finishing wasn't that big of a thrill, as a matter of fact, I was sort of let down. I was done. I had no real reason to write everyday so I saw the completion of the manuscript as an ending of being able to do something that I loved doing. I had packed up the pages, dropped them at the post office - my end of the bargain had been fulfilled. Now, the novel being or not being was up to somebody else. There was nothing left for me to write... until this blog... :o)

Then a few days ago a simple thank you email turned into an opportunity to write a monthly newsletter for a local center for the arts. Sure, not glamorous, but it's an avenue to contribute something by using a gift I've been given.

Undeniably, fulfilling.

The feeling I really wish to accomplish through my creative ventures is the feeling of having expressed my ideas and knowing that I've done all that I can to get my ideas out of my head and onto the pages or onto the canvas, etc., all the while hoping to encourage, motivate or inspire the next person.

Being a famous writer or artist is not the real desire for me - it's the perk. Doing what I enjoy doing and knowing that I have used my creative abilities to the fullest is what makes my heart sing.

So, my question to you is this...

On that list of things that you want out of life followed by how you think you need to go about accomplishing those things, what feeling are you expecting to experience when you accomplish those things that you've identified as being what you really want out of life?

I realize this is a little on the touchy feel-y side of things but, write me and tell me because I want to join efforts with you.

After all, I told you mine, it's only fair that you tell me yours.

Baby, It's Cold Outside!

2009-02-03T09:19:00.000-05:00

I know what you're probably thinking,

'Yeah, right. It's in the fifties or sixties down there, right? Get a grip - wear a hoodie.'

Still, ...baby, it's cooold outside.

It's funny how quickly we adapt to our surroundings because, five years ago, a fifty to sixty degree day in the beginning of February would've been such a welcomed relief - a gift, really. But that was then - when we lived in the Northwestern Chicago suburbs where fifty degree weather in February is akin to the biblical parting of the Red Sea.

Anyhow, today, in Sunny Orlando, it's cooold. So today, I had plenty of ammo to legitimately delay the morning 'walking of the dog'. I told myself, as I pulled into our driveway at around 7:30 A.M. after having dropped off my daughter at school, that I should probably wait a bit to give Bear-bear his walk/run as it was really much too cooold to be outside . Later, I told myself, when the sun is completely up, I will walk Bear-bear and neither of us will freeze.

(For some reason, Bear-bear's puffy fur coat from the obvious Chow-chow portion of his DNA doesn't seem to be quite thick enough for me to recognize that more than likely, he isn't the slightest bit phased by the incredibly frigid temperatures.)

Still, it really was cooold and so instead of immediately grabbing his leash from the hook in the garage as I usually do after dropping off Sydney at school, I entered the laundry room, slipped off my shoes and headed for the coffeepot. Bear-bear shot me a look of what appeared to me as combined disbelief and disgust although I could possibly be reading too much into the look. Still, he was undeniably disappointed and of course, I immediately felt a little guilty.

As I stood there filling my cup with the encouragement that only hot coffee can provide on such chilly mornings, I heard these words in my head,

'When it gets a little warmer, later - I'll gladly walk Bear-bear and we won't freeze. Later will be better. Later, I will feel like walking him because the sun will be shining and even if it stays cooold, it's way better to walk in the cooold when it's sunny than walk in the cooold when it's still dark and half of my neighborhood is still sleeping.'

Now, I'm stopping right here because as I wrote these words and then took a break to drive my son to his school and found that it was still freezing out there and that it actually hadn't quite hit the fifty degree mark yet, I have to ask myself, will later ever come?

Once I started thinking about whether or not later will ever come - I thought about everything else that I put off until later or tomorrow, or someday... and that got me to thinking about a book that I read last year.

So, ...I'm going to go and look for the book that came to mind when I thought about 'someday' and after I do, I'll get back to this blog thought that I'm looking forward to sharing with you, ...later.