My Daily Outbox

For the next era of blogging, please check out My Daily Outbox.

Thanks again!

Free To Be Me

"The 30s are wonderful years! You will gain confidence in who you are and will plainly see the direction of your life." -Card from ChoirFriend

I am so blessed!

I am the wife of a loving husband, who supports me when I spend the day coaching (character day), and surprises me in the evening with desserts, cards, and a beautiful box...



Yes, it was a Tiffany & Co. ring!

I am the mother of two fantastic children. I stayed up late last night chatting with the Teenager, and enjoyed celebrating this evening with Daughter. Raising them with Husband has been the crowning achievement of my life thus far.

I am the daughter of amazing parents, who taught me that love is a choice and has very little to do with genetic relationships! It was great spending time with them this past weekend, enjoying outlet mall shopping and Lobster Fest. I am a sister to four younger siblings (and a sibling-in-law), who teach me so much about life, and the proud Godmother of SweetNiece.

I am the coach who made a difference in half a dozen young lives this season. Teaching young women about character through the medium of volleyball is the best ministry ever. This was a special team, and while it was time for the season to end, I cherished every minute of it. Today I received affirmation that they got a lot out of it as well. Best gift ever (well, best abstract gift. I'm really loving my T&C ring).

I am the friend of beautiful people, the kind that understand all the other balls I'm juggling, and love me even when they don't physically see or hear from me for a few days, weeks, or months. One thing I'm glad I can give up is some of the relational guilt I've carried around for three decades.

I am a child of God, beloved of The Creator, who taught me this year what it means to be human. He has spoken to me about the importance of recognizing the limitations of my humanity, and I now realize that being "free to be me" means accepting my imperfections: I'm overweight, I'm habitually late, I stress instead of celebrate, I'm crabby with my Daughter, I am incapable of cleaning the dang Scary Room, I take too many pictures, I spend too much money eating out, I don't exercise or strengthen my back enough, I can't stick to diets, I over-schedule myself, I'm a perfectionist, I'm not generous with God's money, and I forget to meet with God in prayer on a daily basis. I am an imperfect human being.

It's not an excuse. I'm working to improve, and by the grace of God I'll make some headway. But I'm FREE to be imperfect. God, my family, my friends, my players-they all love me even though I'm not perfect (some of them love me BECAUSE I'm not perfect!), and that is the greatest blessing of all.

It's been a good year. Soli Deo Gloria.


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My New Blog Home

I have begun the transition to my new blog: My Daily Outbox. My plan is to continue blogging, but through letters written to people that impact my day. I think the format will make it easier for me to post on a more consistent basis, because even the most boring days are impacted by at least one other person! I hope you check it out and continue to follow me at that site. This 350 day blogging experiment has been fun, and I am excited to take my writing to the next level. My last day on this blog is April 11, 2011: My 30th Birthday!


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State of the Quests

#1: Exercise and Eat Smart - I have not achieved daily thirty minute activity. But, I have made better food choices, and have lost 15 pounds.

#2: Punctuality - I was late (again) today. If I had a nickel every time I apologized for being late, Husband would be far less annoyed with me. I have learned to call ahead and give people warning. Although Husband won't admit it, I'm pretty sure he set my alarm clock ahead a few minutes after daylight savings went into effect a few weeks ago. However, on the whole, I think I have to accept that I'm just not a punctual person. You have been warned, so plan accordingly.

#3: Cherish the Moment - I really enjoyed the Teenager's graduation, and have consciously tried to embrace the idea of cherishing the moment in other situations where joy-stealers about.

#4: The Daughter Dare - One of the the best quests, and one I'm continually picking up again and again. The Daughter is a wonderful girl, and our relationship has improved a lot in the past year.

#5: The Scary Room - Um... still scary...

#6: Europe - It was a blast! I hope to relive that quest again before I turn 40!

#7: Eat Cheap - I am doing marginally better at this as well. Eating cheap goes hand in hand with eating less, so while I have a way to go yet, I think there's hope.

#8: Eliminate Back Pain - I am still struggling with this. My newest idea? I purchased a "True Back" traction board. But the best idea also goes hand in hand with losing weight... finding time to exercise! Oh Wii fit, how I miss you!

#9: Weightwatcher Points - Yeah, I noticed last week they charged me for another month of membership, and I haven't counted points for a month now, so I have half a mind to cancel... but then again, I'm only halfway to my goal weight...

#10: Simplify My Calendar - Also doing better on this. Having a calendar on my phone has made scheduling much easier and more accurate.

#11: Paralyzed by Perfection - I'm sure I will always struggle with this. But as I continue to focus on Christ's approval instead of the world's, I find I am able to make tiny improvements. Bit by bit.

#12: Storing Treasure in Heaven - I would like to think I am becoming less enamored with material things, but then I consider my house wish list and I know i have a long ways to go. I am more sensitive to the voice that reminds me to be generous with what I have been given, and to lend freely to others. Another quality I hope I can develop more strongly.

#13: Connect with Christ - I have continued to meet with Christ in prayer for thirty minutes each day, and it has made a change in me. As we wait for God's direction, Husband and I have developed a lot of character (meaning we've grown closer to each other and to God, but like most growth, it's been painful!).


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LawLady

I'm afraid. I'm very afraid.

In Crim Practice, each person was assigned to a case as either a prosecutor or defense attorney. I am a defense attorney. And each prosecutor was assigned an agent, and each defense attorney was assigned a defendant. LawLady was assigned as my prosecutor's agent. And until this week, it didn't occur to me what that meant.

I must cross-examine LawLady. And I'm afraid.

Cross-examinations in themselves are challenging. The attorney's goal is to elicit yes or no answers in such a way that their case is strengthened. It requires a lot of patience (which I have loads of) and the art of "thinking before you speak," (another trait I really excel at). I imagine cross-examining LawLady will kind of be like cross-examining the teenager: when I don't get the answer I want, my instinct will be to break character in an inappropriate way.

Example:

Me: "You are sitting on this chair, aren't you?"
LawLady: "What do you mean by sitting?"
Me: "Dang it LawLady you know what I mean!"

Me: "You are sitting on this chair, aren't you?"
LawLady: "No."
Me: "You aren't sitting on the chair?"
LawLady: "No."
Me: "How do you figure?"
LawLady: "I'm resting on this chair."

Me: "You are sitting on this chair, aren't you?"
LawLady: "Yes."
Me: "So you admit this chair is holding you up?"
LawLady: "No."
Me: "What? You just admitted you are sitting on this chair! The logical inference is that it is holding you up!"
LawLady: "No, [insert creative, technical legalese here that I have never even remotely considered that will totally 100% ruin my entire planned argument], and that is why I am sitting on this chair, but it is not holding me up."
Me: "Shoot me now."

Oh LawLady. I'll be happy when we're back on the same side of the courtroom.


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Why I'll Never Be Denny Crane

Denny Crane. Boston Legal's undefeated legend. Never lost a case.

I will never be Denny Crane. Today, I had my first court trial. And today, I lost my first court trial. (Court trial means there is no jury; it is a mini-trial before a judge or referee). In an ironic twist of fate, my first court trial was prosecuting a defendant for not wearing her seatbelt.

The defendant was in court today, arguing over a $25 fine. My kind of girl: it's not about the money, it's about the principle (think Lia Sophia). She was adamant that she was wearing her seatbelt, and that she did not simply put it on once she was pulled over.

I, too, have received a seatbelt ticket. When Husband and I were dating, we were both cited for not wearing our seatbelts. I remember being pulled over, and then quickly pulling my seatbelt on, and then having the deputy ask me if I had just pulled the seatbelt on, and being an honest child I said Yes. I find police officers often do not reward honesty with leniency; quite the opposite in fact. Honesty is an admission and makes it more likely you'll get charged!

I digress. The referee's decision ultimately became a question of who are you going to believe? The referee said she had two credible witnesses (the trooper on one hand, the defendant on the other), but in the end she found the defendant not guilty. The sting of defeat was considerably lessened by the fact that I theoretically only owed Justice $25 (plus court costs) for my rookie performance. It was humbling, I learned a lot, and developed (yes, you guessed it!) Character.


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The Teenager Parable

Imagine I caught the teenager not only sneaking into the house an hour after curfew, but that he was late because he was teepeeing the neighbor's house and he tipped over a few cows. And let's say, instead of flying off the handle, I simply told him we would talk about it in the morning, after we'd had time to calm down.

But then the next morning the Teenager gets up at the break of dawn and leaves the house, and basically evades me for the next two years, so that we are unable to have this talk. Stick with me, OK?

Finally, I corner the Teenager, and I threaten that if we don't have the talk tomorrow morning, his allowance is cut off. (OK, so maybe first you should imagine the Teenager gets an allowance...)

In our household, both breaking curfew and vandalizing property brings about a consequence of no media for one month. The consequence for tipping cows is only a week without media. But, if Teenager will admit he broke curfew, apologizes, and promises to not do it again for one year, not only will I entirely forgive and forget the teepeeing and the cow-tipping, I won't enforce the one month no-media punishment. It will just hang over his head for a year, and as long as he has no other curfew violations, it will disappear. I'm also going to dock $20 off his allowance, but I'll likely reconsider if he gives me any good reason why he can't afford that.

So Teenager and I sit in the living room and begin discussing the curfew breaking, the teepeeing, and the cow-tipping. I start off by explaining to the Teenager my willingness to forgo punishment if he will simply apologize and pay the $20. Before I can even get a word out, the Teenager begins on a long rant about how he should NOT have to deal with this issue since it occurred two years ago, that he has a class assignment that requires he watch TV each day, and that he has been home on time ever since then, hasn't teepeed, and hasn't cow-tipped, so why is this even an issue? I calmly explain to the Teenager that if he doesn't want to apologize that's fine, he doesn't have to, but then he runs the risk of Husband mandating no media for two months and one week. It's his choice.

The Teenager continues to argue, and eventually Daughter walks into the room. She really needs my help with a baking project. So I say to Teenager, I have other people to help, it's up to you, just decide! And he says, I can't admit I came in after curfew, it will totally ruin my reputation, I'm going to plead my case to Husband. (Notice how his argument isn't, "I didn't do this act, therefore I'm innocent!")

So the Teenager and I walk up to the house calendar to find a day when Husband can sit down and talk to Teenager. I have the pen out, when Teenager suddenly says, No, I want to just apologize. I don't want to talk to Husband.

OK Fine. So I put the pen away, walk back to the table, and strongly suggest the Teenager phone a friend for some advice. I then help Daughter, which includes assisting her with putting her cookies in the oven. Meanwhile, the Teenager's friend tells him to just talk to Husband if he doesn't want to apologize. Teenager comes back into the room, and tells me that the Friend is going to talk to Husband for him.

That doesn't make any sense. What random teenager wants to voluntarily engage in a tense, uncomfortable conversation with an angry adult on another's behalf? While washing dishes with Daughter, I turn around to tell the Teenager that that doesn't sound right, and inform him the Friend needs to tell me personally he is going to talk to Husband. In the meantime, smoke is coming from the oven and Daughter is trying to get my attention... and yes I do think I hear a knock at the door...

I put out the fire, dismiss the salesperson at the door, and the Teenager is back in the room waving at me to get my attention. I'm a little frazzled. The Teenager informs me that his Friend apparently wanted money or some sort of compensation, and since that was out of the question, Teenager wanted to schedule a meeting with Husband. As we are about to walk up to the calendar, the Teenager stops and tries to explain to me, for the tenth time, that he cannot apologize for fear of a marred reputation, and that this happened two years ago so WHY am I making him do this?

Through clenched teeth I tell Teenager he needs to choose. The decision is either apologize, or talk to Husband. That's all there is. (I should also add that, while Teenager's initial Friend won't talk to Husband on his behalf, there is a second friend available who will help the Teenager out FOR FREE, but the Teenager doesn't want him because he "doesn't know what he's talking about").

Teenager says he is concerned about admitting he came in after curfew, because he's a teenager, and this might happen again, and then he'd have to go a month without media...Yes, that's true.

Teenager is also concerned because his reputation is important to him, and if he apologizes, it might have negative consequences...Yes, that's also true.

And finally, the Teenager is concerned about this $20...Well, that's the offer.

In the end, the Teenager chose to schedule a day to talk to Husband.

Yes, this IS a thinly-veiled parable about how my day went with a particularly difficult pro-se defendant. In my head I kept thinking, "If you were my kid..." Have people lost all sense of personal responsibility, that they can't accept negative consequences for their negative behavior??? Especially when the offer eliminated almost ALL of the negative consequences!!!


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The Countdown

My 350 days are almost up!

I don't think this week will bring a 15 pound weight loss or a clean scary room, but I do think this week is going to be fabulous. Some hibernation with my family, rest, and prayer has produced a new attitude. The song that says it all:

"I'm waiting
I'm waiting on You, Lord
And I am hopeful
I'm waiting on You, Lord
Though it is painful
But patiently, I will wait

I will move ahead, bold and confident
Taking every step in obedience

While I'm waiting
I will serve You
While I'm waiting
I will worship
While I'm waiting
I will not faint
I'll be running the race
Even while I wait

I'm waiting
I'm waiting on You, Lord
And I am peaceful
I'm waiting on You, Lord
Though it's not easy
But faithfully, I will wait
Yes, I will wait

I will serve You while I'm waiting
I will worship while I'm waiting
I will serve You while I'm waiting
I will worship while I'm waiting
I will serve you while I'm waiting
I will worship while I'm waiting on You, Lord"

There is a race to be run, and I need to get back on the track!


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April Eve

How can it be that a quarter of the year has already flown by?

I have the cleaning bug, and in light of the eventual move, a more serious de-cluttering bug as well. Discoveries buried in dust in my bedroom include books I intended to read, binders I intended to return, and a gazillion ponytail binders.

I found my old weightwatchers stuff from 2006-07, where I got down to 160 pounds but just didn't have the perseverance to bring it to 155. Sigh! In six months I took down 20 pounds... Hmm, in three months I've lost 15 pounds, so that's encouraging! It was good to find the old chart. It's easy to fall back into old habits because I'm so easily satisfied! (I mean, I fit into my old clothes! WITHOUT spanks!) But, I am now resolved to finish what I started, and make it to 155 in the next three months.

I have been a sparatic blogger because I've been pretty deep in thought these days. I'm still doing my daily prayer, and it's going well, but not in the joyful happy sense. More like the painful growth sense. Once I get some perspective I'll explain a little more. Suffice to say, I'm learning patience in the most tortuous way: by having to wait.


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Packing

I hate packing.

I hate packing, and therefore I am always packing at the very last minute. Like, about five minutes before we have to leave, I'll pull out the suitcase and begin meticulously going through each day of the trip, finding articles of clothing, shoes, accessories, hair appliances. etc. We almost always leave 30 minutes late. At least.

Last Friday was no different. Husband and I were going to stay at a hotel for the weekend. I had all day to pack... but I waited until 4:15 p.m., since we wanted to leave at 4:30 p.m. And maybe Husband could handle this one thing, but I have a second weird packing issue...

You see, I like to pretend I'm a light packer. Some people try on clothes that are too small, because they think they are several sizes smaller than they actually are. I'm like that, but with suitcases and bags. I like to think all my stuff will fit into one backpack. So by the end of my packing extravaganza, I have four smallish bags ready to go.

Husband didn't say much when he loaded my bags into the car. He may have rolled his eyes when I asked him if he had room in his bag for three additional shirts that just couldn't fit anywhere else. But for some reason, before the end of the evening, he snapped.

Ironically, his snapping coincided with another quirk of mine. When I grew up, you parked the car right in front of the hotel lobby doors, you left the car running and perhaps just one person ran in to check-in, and then you parked near the door that was closest to your room. But when we arrived, instead of following this practical procedure, husband parked a mile away, and then wanted to load me up like a Sherpa to haul all our luggage into the hotel lobby.

I stalked off, got our keys, and we drove to the correct door in silence.

Eventually, Husband and I had a chat about what precipitated the outburst. I explained to him the practical procedure, and instead of apologizing for his ridiculous actions, he said to me,

"Well, honey, if you didn't pack fifty bags it wouldn't have been a problem! There are no weight restrictions on this trip! We aren't on a cruise or an airplane! I don't care how heavy it is, all I ask is that you pack ONE BAG."

Lucky for him, I have a sense of humor.


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Calming the Storm

As if it's not bad enough that I am writing a paper over Spring Break (pages completed: 1.5) while LawLady, THH & Casanova are in Florida, a winter storm just blew in to mock this new season typically called "Spring."

This evening, Choirfriend and I drove down to the cities to drop off her dad, sister-in-law, and niece at a hotel near the airport. They were supposed to fly out tomorrow morning, but due to the impending winter storm we decided we should drive them down tonight instead. The last thing Choirfriend's dad said to me was, "Drive Safe," while looking deep into my eyes, as if to say, "You have the most precious cargo in this vehicle - DON'T SCREW UP." Eek! No pressure...

The trip home was treacherous. Choirfriend and I left the hotel around 8:45 p.m., and got home about 11 p.m. Thirty miles per hour, sometimes forty... four wheel drive... lots of cars in the ditch... Eventually, we made it home, safe and sound. As we drove into the driveway, we confessed to each other that, while we tried to maintain a calm demeanor while on the road, we were both SCARED out of our MINDS!

Today's Lent reading was Luke 8:22-25, where Jesus calmed the storm. This morning, in the comfort of my living room, it was easy to despise the disciples for their lack of faith. But after driving in a car for over two hours, white knuckled and intent on identifying the road when blowing snow erased all signs, it is easier to relate to their fear of the storm.

Imagine not having the car as a protective shield. Imagine having to navigate home without periodic street lamps or even roads. Consider how scary it was when I couldn't see anything except the white sheet of snow illuminated by my headlights, and then remember the disciples were on a boat in the middle of a storm. They were bombarded by the elements in darkness.

Where is my faith? Do I only feel safe in optimal weather conditions while driving a large SUV? Would I feel less safe in a blizzard while driving a small compact car? If so, does that mean my faith is in the environment around me, and the physical size and power of my vehicle? In theory, if my faith is in Christ, doesn't that mean my feelings of security should be independent of the environment around me?

Regardless, I'm thankful God got us home safely.


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Spring Break

My last Spring Break will be spent writing my last major paper for law school. The finished product needs to be approximately 22 pages. Pages completed at this point? Zero.

Today's reading was Mark 10:46-52. The reflection materials asked, "What do I want to say to Jesus about what I desire?" My first thought is how petty my requests are compared to Bartimaeus' request for sight. My next thought is how Bartimaeus really laid it all on the line. He had nothing to lose, except a little public humiliation, and so much to gain. He ignored the crowd's rebukes, and yelled louder for Jesus' attention. I am challenged to have faith like Bartimeaus, that casts aside fear of disappointment and directly makes a request to God. No qualifiers, no "but ifs," just laid out there: "Rabbi, I want to see."

I wrote down some key desires of my heart, and I'm going to try to let go of my need to protect myself from disappointment. I'm going to try and get comfortable with the idea that right now, I need to have the courage to present my desire to God with 100% confidence in His power and judgment.


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Creepy Bunny Eyes

I was cleaning up the kitchen (the cleaning lady comes tomorrow, you know) and as I was breaking down cardboard boxes for recycling, I came across a box that said, "Diva Bunny." I was instantly horrified.

You see, growing up, my mother gave us chocolate bunnies for Easter. And being a sensitive child, I had a hard time eating them. It just seemed so cruel to eat the fuzzy-looking ears, then the smiling face, then the cute bunny arms... so honestly, many an Easter morning involved the ceremonial throwing away of last year's bunny and replacing it with the fresh new bunny in the kitchen cupboard.

As I grew older (you know, about sixteen or so), I overcame my bunny issues for the most part. I mean, c'mon, I now possessed the mental ability to distinguish a chocolate bunny from a cute, imaginary friend bunny encased in chocolate. I was now able to devour chocolate bunnies. Except for one kind.

The bunny with eyes.

You know what I speak of. Who ever thought it would be a good idea to make a chocolate bunny, and then make actual colored eyes for it? So that the bunny can watch you while you eat it? Horrifying! And my bunny-eye issue has only gotten worse over the years. Probably because I get zero sympathy and continual trauma at the hands of my family.

Every year, I forget about my bunny-eye issue. But you know who doesn't forget? My family. My mom began the tradition of leaving bunnies with eyes in my room on the farm to "greet" me when I came home. Then she began leaving them in other places for me to run into, like in the shower *cue Psycho music*. Lately, the teenager has begun to join in the fun. This year, he purchased Diva Bunny, and put her in my room.

Even he admitted he was a little frightened by this one...




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Weekend Lent Thoughts

The reading for Day 11 was John 6:1-14, the Feeding of the Multitude. The Lent materials quoted Father Peter John Cameron as saying, "To be human is to be needy." I began listing off all my needs, and it quickly became apparent how I can do nothing without Christ.

Today, I read John 10:1-18. I love John 10:10 "I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full." Because that's what I want - I want to live life to the full!

My uncle raised sheep, and every now and then my dad would have to go over and do chores for him when he was on vacation. And he dreaded it. He hated the sheep, mostly because they were so dumb. (Among other things, they will eat themselves to death). In John, the human population is represented by the sheep, and the world we live in is the pen. Inside the pen, humans find fulfillment in what the world has to offer: fame, fortune, sex, beauty, image, position & power. But outside the pen, there is so much more! Peace, love, patience, kindness, selflessness, sacrifice, forgiveness, truth... I realize that these qualities may sound like "not a lot of fun," but as someone who still remembers what life is like without peace (for example), I wasn't "free to be me" until I stepped out of the pen.

Once Jesus Christ became the gate, it seems like a no-brainer that the sheep would be trampling each other to get outside the pen. But I fully admit that I am one of the dumbest sheep, and that even after escaping the pen to the great beyond, I often find myself trying to dig back in. Yeah, it was no accident that God used sheep analogies for the human race!


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How Ice Cream (Almost) Ruined Family Fun

If we were keeping score of how many times the family has begun a trip with the goal of finding Cold Stone Creamery, and how many times we actually found it, our family would be significantly behind. On Saturday, Frustration again racked up another point, and for a moment, it looked like Frustration was going to ruin Family Fun Weekend.

We spent the day in the cities, and the Teenager made the declaration that he wanted to end the day with Cold Stone Creamery. He looked up CSC on his smart phone, and identified the closest location. Husband and I were initially a little skeptical because, as stated earlier, the family has been on several wild goose hunts throughout the cities trying to find CSC's that either moved, went out of business, or were apparently never in the place that the Garmin or Googlemaps thought it was. As a fail-safe, we instructed the Teenager to call and confirm the CSC still, in fact, existed.

Teenager called, and from our end it sounds like he's getting some detailed instructions of how to get there. However, when he gets off the phone, he tells us only that it exists in a shopping center called, "The Village." Husband and I give each other a look. Husband mentions that perhaps it would have been helpful to have road names, or an intersection. Teenager doesn't want to call again, and I'm trying to avoid a fight, so we get the GPS going on the smartphone and begin navigating to CSC.

Teenager is nervous because he didn't get good directions. I'm holding the smartphone, and in an attempt to turn the volume down, turned it down so far that Husband couldn't hear his instructions and we ended up in a turn lane a block too early. Husband is mumbling under his breath. Tensions are running high.

According to the phone, we are on the right path. But the area is looking strangely residential. Suddenly Teenager bursts from the back seat, "It's not here! We're in the wrong place! Let's just go home!" Husband yells back, "We are not going home, we are going to find this place, we did not just drive around for half an hour to not have ice cream!" Teenager retorts, "I don't want to go when everyone is mad." Husband snapped, "Then you can sit in the car." To which I sulk because now Family Fun Day is RUINED. RUINED I TELL YOU! THERE IS NO YELLING DURING FAMILY FUN DAY!!!

But never fear, dear reader. A quick prayer for peace, and a personal phone call to the CSC we were originally trying to find (the guy said, "Oh yeah, I know that google says we're there, but we're not..." Thanks SO MUCH for that insight.) revealed that a better option was a mere four miles to the north. I called and got specific directions, Husband calmed down, the Teenager decided he did not want to sit in the car afterall, and Daughter continued to quietly pray for peace. As we drove up to CSC, we all shared a good laugh about our standard family-freak-out, ate some ice cream, and lived happily ever after.


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Family Fun Weekend

The Beatitudes were assigned today, but I admit, my prayer was pretty sleepy. It was one of the last things I did before going to bed, and by the end of a very long day at the end of a very long week, I was pretty depleted in body, mind and soul. While I'm used to feeling physically tired, I'm not as used to feeling spiritually depleted. I'm assuming its because I've been consciously putting forth more effort towards being a living sacrifice. I think that's why God says there is a blessing to being poor in spirit: It means you're trying.

For recharging, I've planned the "Family Fun Weekend," where the little family enjoys each others company for some forty hours straight. Insert happy sigh here!


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St. Patrick's Day

Uttering an explicative before 8 a.m. twice in one week is kind of impressive, even for me. The first occurred on Monday. The second occurred Thursday morning, the result of my half-hearted attempt to be a good mom.

I set my alarm for 7 a.m. It's been a long week, so I wasn't very awake. I stumbled to the couch after making a visual confirmation that Daughter was up and eating breakfast. I was joined by the teenager, who laid on the other couch. Eventually Daughter walked in, ready for school.

I suddenly realized it was St. Patrick's Day! I asked Daughter if she was wearing anything green. Nope. So I told her to run upstairs and grab her green sweatshirt so she wouldn't get pinched. Teenager mumbled something about how he wasn't going to drive her in to school if she missed the bus. I ignored him and laid back down on the couch.

I started thinking about Inspector Gadget, and what an interesting cartoon it was, when suddenly the Teenager breaks into my dreamy stupor, "[Daughter], hurry up, the bus is here!" Suddenly I, too, can hear the rumbling of the bus outside our house...

I spring blindly off the couch, drop an explicative as I realize the bus is here and Daughter is not, and frantically run towards the stairs yelling for Daughter-who, providentially, is just walking into the room. I shove her outside the door, joyous that she made the bus and horrified by my major mom fail of falling asleep on the job. You know you're in a bad state when the Teenager is more awake at 7:30 a.m. then you are!

The reading for Day 9 of Lent was John 2:1-12. My take-away was Jesus' compassion that overrode his schedule. He said to his mother, "My time has not yet come," but then he goes on to perform the miracle. I wonder if Jesus, like me, had a human desire for a schedule, but in his perfection he sacrificed that human desire for organization to fulfill his calling to minister in the chaos around him. Right now, in my busy busy busy days, I need to follow that example and remember that compassion and love can't be confined to pre-scheduled appointments.


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From Flannelgraph to HD

Day 6 and Day 8 both invite the prayee to reflect on Mathew 3:13-17, Jesus' baptism. It worked out well, because on Day 7 the Lent Retreat group met, and I was given some tips on how to make the reflection more meaningful.

The challenge for me was that the Lent materials suggest the prayee participate in Jesus' baptism through focused imagery. While I have a good imagination, I found myself struggling to imagine myself at the scene in a real way. Mostly because I struggle with what Jesus Christ looks like.

I grew up with the most fabulous Sunday School teacher. She should be eligible for an Oscar in Creative Arts the way she wielded flannelgraph backgrounds and figures to make the Bible come to life! Other childhood images of Jesus include pictures of a nice man, wearing a white tunic and a blue stole, looking very peaceful. My grandma had some paintings of Jesus, one a headshot of sorts and one where he was knocking on the proverbial door of someone's heart. In other words, Jesus starts off as a two-dimensional image that floats along in my brain, almost like he is attached to a Popsicle stick...

Realizing this isn't correct, I draw upon a more recent image of Jesus: that of James Caviezel in the Passion of the Christ. Those powerful images are in sharp contrast to the Sunday School Jesus. There are a few flashback scenes where we observe Jesus Christ prior to his torture and suffering, and I try and draw upon those when attempting to imagine a three dimensional person...

At our Lent Retreat, I shared my Jesus-identity-crisis, and I was reminded that there isn't a "wrong" way to view Jesus. When I think of Jesus, whatever comes to mind IS JESUS TO ME. And that sometimes, the image is fuzzy except for perhaps his eyes, or his hands. I applied this advice to my reflection today, and found flannelgraph Jesus - when given permission to exist - quickly took on a high-definition quality.


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God's Counsel

A good friend of mine has obtained a six-month internship representing God as His attorney. Well, technically she represents the Vatican at the United Nations, but still. Can you imagine how fun it must be to say, "Good morning, Your Honor, I am here representing my client, GOD..."

I plan on staying connected to her. She definitely has friends in high places.

I'm playing a bit of blog-catch-up, and Day 7's scripture was John 17:6-26. I was struck by Jesus' focus on believer unity. In a day when every denomination has a sub-denomination that doesn't get along with another sub-denomination, large scale unity seems impossible! But after dinner with GC (God's Counsel), I realized that on a micro-level, we had achieved believer unity: two very different people came together to celebrate our shared faith.


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Daylight Savings

I can't recall how many times I missed the memo on Daylight Savings, but I know its been more than once. I clearly recall walking in late to at least three different churches in my lifetime. But, as I am now older and wiser, I am very aware of Daylight Savings. Sunday went off without a hitch.

Coincidentally, Daughter has been making big strides in her development. This past year, we have stopped tucking her in at night. Instead, we pray as a family downstairs, sing a song (current favorites are the Star Spangled Banner or America The Beautiful), and then send Daughter up to bed.

Do you see where this is going?

This morning my alarm went off at 6 a.m. But I just couldn't get out of bed. I finally rolled out at 6:30 a.m., walked to the kitchen to make coffee, and noticed it was eerily quiet...

[INSERT EXPLICATIVE HERE]!

I yelled upstairs, "[Daughter!] Are you up? What are you doing?"

The response was a sleepy, "getting dressed..."

Sigh. Daughter's alarm clock is set to go off at 5:30 a.m., giving her plenty of time to get ready for school and eat breakfast without a mom following her around harassing her continually to hurry up so she doesn't miss the bus. Like today.

When Daughter gets up at 5:30 a.m., she is usually on the couch watching TV anywhere from 6:45 a.m. on a really good day, to 7:15 a.m. on a really bad day. So you can see why the 7:30 a.m. bus is going to be stressful for the 6:30 a.m. wake-up call. To make matters slightly worse and more stressful, I'm running behind now too, and for some reason we seem to be constantly in each other's way!

Thankfully, Daughter was ready in time to catch the bus. She ate a FiberOne bar while watching for the bus, instead of her leisurely bowl of cereal, piece of fruit, and orange juice, but I think she'll be OK. I did randomly find a banana in the living room after she got on the bus, but chalked it up to my good fortune and threw it in my purse for own personal enjoyment.

Daughter made the bus, I was only twenty minutes late to class, and nobody got hurt. Really, what more can one ask of a Monday?


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