Long Overdue Alphabet Post

Hey, how come nobody mentioned I had forgotten to continue on with this series??


N is for Nasty. You'd probably never find me on Santa's naughty list. When I was a youngster, I was a really good girl. I was really afraid to do something wrong. I hated the thought that I might let my parents or my teachers down. And then there was the issue of wondering if God might be up there ready to send a lightning bolt if I messed up. I suffered great guilt and confusion during the sixth grade spelling bee - it was down to me and Tina Hansel as the two last spellers. Tina got the word, "socket." Tina had a little twang in her speech and when she spelled it, I clearly heard s-o-c-k-e-t but her "e" sounded a little like an "a." The emcee said she had spelled it wrong. I stood there, stunned. She had certainly spelled it right. I paused to think about what to do. I spelled it "s-o-c-k-e-t" apparently without the little twang, because I spelled it correctly. And I went on to spell the winning word. But the victory was bittersweet. I was so hard on myself for not standing up during that spelling bee and insisting that Tina had spelled the word correctly. Now I am grown up and I'm still a pretty good girl, when it comes right down to it, but my motivation is different. I just like being kind and friendly to people. It makes me feel really good. And I think Proverbs is right when it says, "He who refreshes other people will himself be refreshed." Sure is true for me.

O is for Optically Gifted. At the young age of seven, I was clear that I wanted to wear glasses (oy vey, I say now). I read under the covers to try to speed along the process. And, sure enough, I was able to get glasses when I was seven. That means I have had to use something to help me see for almost 40 years now! I got contact lenses when I was 13 (oy vey). Back then, they didn't have contacts that you could wear for five minutes and throw away with nary another thought. No, it was that whole clean them, boil them, neutralize them, don't wear them too long. A list of rules as long as your arm. When I finally got around to looking into laser surgery to correct my vision, something I had dreamed of for so long, I was told that my distant vision would be corrected but I would lose my close up vision and that things would be blurry up close without glasses. At that point (and even now) I could see close-up very clearly without any corrective lenses, and I couldn't imagine losing the ability to see the faces of my husband and children clearly in those lovely intimate moments when we are face to face. So, I said no to the surgery. Contacts act like suction cups on my eyes in minutes anymore, so I pretty much stick to glasses.

P is for Psychologist. At some point, I must have been planning to become one, though, because I majored in Psychology in college. I was too far into it to change when I realized that the field was (is?) very research-oriented. I just wanted to help people. I didn't go on for my master's although I flirted with the idea. I love the idea of helping people and I find ways to do that, even though I am not able to do anything clinically. I have been extremely blessed in my life to learn many principles that have made a difference in my life. I have also been extremely blessed to find healing and experience God's grace in many areas. I still have some wounds that I am aware of, and probably some that I'm not aware of, and I still love the idea of being a group therapy leader, or somehow helping people work through the pain and difficulties that are still affecting them as adults.

Q is for Queenslander. Although I lived in Queensland for 16 months, I can't claim it as home. I surely loved Australia and my friends and experiences there. One of the defining experiences of my life was living in Australia with Greg. I would definitely live there again. My favorite place in all the world, Eli Creek, is off the coast of Queensland. I experienced a lifestyle in Aus that just really suited me perfectly. I found Adrian Plass in Aus. Greg and I made some incredible memories there. Basically, I got to live out a dream I had had since I was a child.

More to come . . .

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Boomerang Bay Today - I'm a Hero

Today, I singlehandedly took 7 whole children to the waterpark, Boomerang Boy. Of course, five of them were my own, so that made things a little easier. But this was the very first time I have ever been there, and I was taking Kepler along, so I wondered it was going to work to have him there. It worked great!

Sorry I don't have any actual photos of the kids. It was more than I thought I could handle to take my camera, keep track of it, keep it from getting wet, take photos, let alone good ones.

We arrived just as the park opened. I anticipated a long line of people waiting to get in but I was pleasantly surprised to find a parking spot three spaces from the door, and a fairly low attendance when we arrived. We were even able to find chairs under the canopy by the baby pool.

I took Kepler on one of those lazy river rides where you float along on an innertube. Characteristically, I made sure not to go under any of the big splashy parts. He was way relaxed and on the second time around his little eyes closed, even as he clapped at the end of each song.

We ended up staying about 2 1/2 hours and it was just a perfect amount of time. With season passes, we can go up any time and not feel like we have to stay for 6 or 8 hours to get our money's worth.

We are looking forward to going back! It was so fun to see how much the kids enjoyed themselves and how much they enjoyed playing with Kepler. Such great kids. Several of the kids independently thanked me for taking them to the waterpark today.

See? I'm a hero.

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Responding to a Comment Left on my Teen Challenge Post

A reader left a comment on my post about Teen Challenge, directing me to several links from a particular website run by someone who is very anti-Teen Challenge (and programs like it).

I think it is pretty much impossible to prove or disprove the comments of people who are against something. So much of the time, there is an agenda behind the comments. Perhaps that person had a personality conflict with a leader. Perhaps the person had a brother or cousin who did not succeed in Teen Challenge. Perhaps the person believes honestly that a program like Teen Challenge should be summarily destroyed because of the religious nature of the program. for some reason.

My experience at Teen Challenge that evening included talking with participants who were clearly in favor of the program, as well as a guy who had only been there a short time and felt that there were too many little picky rules.

I haven't struggled with drug addiction or alcohol addiction and I know my knowledge of such things is extremely limited.

Of the things I read on the anti-TC websites, I saw a LOT of anger. Again, sometimes anger is justified, but sometimes it comes from disappointment or hurt.

I want to be careful how I say this because I do not want to be misunderstood as condoning any type of abuse. Sometimes people need to hear honest and true things and those things might need to be said forcefully (not yelling, just firmly and clearly). After all, I would guess that ANYONE involved in drug abuse has issues with self-discipline, anger, authority, and self-esteem.

My intent was not to direct anyone to Teen Challenge, as much as to share my experience with being there and my deep belief that Jesus is my hope. So much has been written and said and even done in the name of Jesus that has been hurtful to other people, but that is because people are human. I know that Jesus does change hearts and lives. Once any one of us understands that we are a dearly loved child of God, we can begin to live a different life -- one that includes peace, hope, faith and love.

I am sad for anyone who tries Teen Challenge or any other program and comes away from it still broken and still addicted. And I was aware that night that the three guys who were graduating still had a pretty tough row to hoe and my prayers were with them as they left the security of the program location and learned to apply their knowledge in the real world.

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The Fine Art of Looking for Missing Things

There are three things missing in my house.

1. Joel's cell phone.
2. Kepler's Sure Steps (foot braces he wears in his shoes).
3. A library book checked out by Anna-Jessie and overdue and unable to be renewed.

One of my most pettest peeves is not being able to find something. When something is missing here at home, I have my radar on almost all the time as I move about the house and I look and look and look and look. Now, almost all the time I find it.

However.

1. Joel's cell phone has been missing for quite some time. He found it one Saturday, had it for an hour, and, sadly, lost it again. I've looked and looked but haven't been able to find it.

2. Kepler's Sure Steps, for which we were charged $1400 just over a year ago, were on his little feet last Thursday afternoon. Sadly, on Friday when it was time to put them on, they were nowhere to be seen.

3. Library book. Aargh. Not in sight.

The Fine Art of Looking for Missing Things mainly consists of leaving no stone (or shoe, or sock, or piece of furniture, or article of clothing) unturned. It also usually includes moving the furniture because I have found that is the best way to really find out what is underneath.

Over the past several days, I have conducted three archeological digs -- one in Eli's room, one in Joel's room, and one in the living room. Archeological digs consist of picking up every single thing in the room, throwing away the odd bits (or large bagsful) of trash, putting all the stuff that goes elsewhere, well, elsewhere, moving the furniture of course, and just generally putting things in order. And, a big goal of the digs is to make the floor clear, so that one could vacuum, or maybe walk.

These three rooms have been certified clear of the three missing objects. I do have two more rooms on this floor, but if the missing pieces are not there, then I have to descend (jaws music here) into the basement, that pit of packrattery, that den full of piles of everything.

Wish me luck. I will need a flashlight.

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Gotta Get Bill's Mug Off of Here

I'm not liking visiting my blog and seeing that picture of "Bill" staring out at me. So, I'm putting another post up that will help move "Bill" on down the road.

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Bill and Al -- The Guys You Don't Want to Hire

So, we had this funky window in our living room until last September. Sorry, oh visual ones, I can't find a picture of it. Anyway, it was quite unique, with 9 nearly square panels (about 18" squares) and was nearly floor-to-ceiling. As much as I liked the openness of this window, we had only one wall in the living room that wasn't taken up by fireplace or window, so we decided to have the window replaced when we sided the house.

Enter "Bill" (his real name but not exactly his real photo - the eyes are pretty close though -- I found this through googling "hillbilly guy"). He is the window "specialist" for the siding company. Now, granted, this was an unusual job. But after he removed the old window, he began to frame in the lower section of the new wall. PROBLEM WAS, Bill didn't think he needed to leave any allowance for the drywall to be mounted later. Now, even I know that you have to have room for the drywall, but Bill was just sure that his boss had told him to do it this way. Now that I understand better about taking care of myself, what I would do if I could do it over is to say, "Bill, until we get visual contact and approval from either your boss or my dad (a builder), we shall not proceed." Because, well, Bill was wrong. As my dad said, he was a "dumb bunny." Dad and his cohort went to the trouble to fit small panels of drywall between these stupid studs, and nail them specially -- it was a lot of work.

Enter "Al" (also his real name; also not his real picture, but I have no doubt he enjoyed counting all that dough we gave him). Al is a fine plasterer with whom my dad has worked for many years. He does know how to plaster, but he is the messiest worked I have ever seen. He said he could plaster over the messed-up window job, which he did. Let me just say, Bill + Al = Mess. The drywall mud cracked and some of the tape is visible. Plus you can see the stupid studs if you even glance at the wall.







Enter "Siouxsie" (close to her real name). I figured OK, I'm Pioneer Woman, I can fix this. Now, nine months later, here's what I decided. I'm not fixing the drywall mud. I'm not covering up the barely visible tape. I'm not going to try to make it all smooth. I am going to live with it. So, I got out my paint and paintbrush today and painted over the whole mess. And I can't help but think that it's actually in better shape being a mess and being painted than it is being a mess and being a mess.

So, if "Bill" shows up at your door to install your new window, BEWARE. I COULD make all kinds of derogatory, albeit funny, comments about Bill and his intelligence, because he surely seemed like he maybe had done a few too many drugs in his younger days, but I think I will just leave it at this. You don't want Bill to do your work.

And that's all I have to say about that.

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Saying I'm Sorry

The "simple" act of saying I'm sorry can be difficult for many of us. I found something by a man named Paul Davis, on the internet, that I thought was quite well-said.

When you hurt someone
Make haste to render an apology.
Whether you're right or wrong
Do so, be well, and live long.

Embrace and endear people tenderly
Delight in others wholeheartedly
Refuse to act offensively
Be silent rather than speak abrasively

And when you've wounded others carelessly
Discover the power of an apology.

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