God Made Me Do It

There is a monster inside me today that really wants out. Normally, I would just let it come out, for better or worse (usually worse). Today I will hold it back, sort of. Today, instead of retaliating in anger at the person who has been mean to me, I will just breathe. And pray. And type. And I will feel better when I'm done. 


Someone I thought was my friend has said some things and done some things that aren't very friendly. Since I live in the town that's the size of a postage stamp, these things have gotten back to me. I want to send her a nice message asking her politely to stop saying hurtful things about me. Yeah right. There's a long list of things I want to do to her, none of which are even remotely nice or polite. I keep reminding myself that we are adults and this is not junior high school. That doesn't make it easier though. 


So why the sudden desire decision to be nice? God made me do it.

I have been trying to be a better person--doing more of the good stuff (praying, smiling, holding my tongue), and less of the bad stuff (skipping church, gossiping). I wish I could say it was all my idea and these were changes that made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside but that's not completely accurate. I know that these small things are all part of His plan for my life and I did make the conscious decision to submit to His will. As far as the warm fuzzy feelings, eh, it's more like a roller coaster of emotions that makes me think of the little Angel/Devil on my shoulders. I'm trying to be good but it's exhausting--it's much easier to just be myself. 


But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law. Galatians 5:22-23 NIV
 

Happy Happy Joy Joy

It’s Friday! Today will be my 1^st attempt to link up and try something out of the ordinary—it’s 5 Minute Friday. So after my brief (or not) rambling introduction, I’m going to try to pour out my heart for 5 minutes on the topic of “joy.” Oddly enough, I almost got out of bed last night and wrote a post about joy before I knew about 5MF. Ultimately, I decided that my bed was warm, my laptop was in the kitchen, and I was lazy. Before I get started, and before you read it, can you do something for me? Go meet Sara. You can thank me later.

I’m still new in the blog world and I like to hop around and read different blogs. Reading tons of posts really helps me be me. Sometimes I can read a snippet of something and my brain just takes off in a completely different direction. If I were better and more disciplined at putting my thoughts on paper/computer screen, I could come up with a pages-long post most days. But I’m not there yet. Anyway, I digress. I’m a bit addicted to Twitter and a couple of days ago I kept seeing tweets about Sara. Everyone was praying for her, cheering her on, and just gathering together for her. It piqued my curiosity and I found her. And I’m so glad I did. Please take a few minutes, or hours, or days to read her story, bookmark her blog, and pray for her. In honor of Sara, I choose joy.

And my 5 minutes begins…now.

I have never given much thought to the difference in happiness and joy, until now. Now this is not a scientific or expert opinion, I’m not even consulting the dictionary for accurate definitions. If I did, I might find that I was off the mark with my thoughts, and that just won’t work for 5MF. To me, happiness is how you feel about what is going on around you. It’s about your situation, your family, your job, your life in general. Being happy, well, sometimes that takes work. You can be happy or you can choose to be happy, despite your situation. But it isn’t easy. I have tried. Sometimes, your situation just brings you down, no matter what you try to do or think. But joy is different. Joy comes from what is going on inside of you, not what’s going on outside of you. Joy is a reflection of your heart. True joy comes from knowing your Creator and your Savior; from knowing that you have something better waiting for you. Joy is the direct result of the choice you make to fill your heart with God. Happiness comes and goes, but joy remains with you, just like God. When He fills your life, He brings joy with Him. And He comes to stay. 

So that's it. 5 minutes of writing, not too much editing, just writing. And since I still have an empty space in my brain when it comes to formatting and all things that make blogs pretty, if you see a weird something on here that doesn't make sense, just ignore it. I'm *trying* to link up and stick a 5MF button on my page. If you see it and it looks normal, you can safely assume that the empty space in my brain is shrinking, even if ever so slowly. If not, just say "bless her heart" and pray that someday, I will get it.

Giving Up

At our mid-week church service last night, the pastor preached a message about giving everything up to God and not holding anything back. He used the example of God telling Abraham to give up his only son Isaac as a sacrifice, and then, providing a ram at the last second so Isaac could live. If you don’t know the story, take a look at it here. Pastor challenged us to “give up our Isaac,” in other words, don’t hold back in turning our lives over to God. He can’t work with what you don’t give him. As it would happen, my husband and found ourselves in a situation recently and did just that. It was not easy. By “not easy” I really mean “what have we gotten ourselves into” hard. I was nervous and anxious. I knew God would provide for us but change and uncertainty make me crazy(er). Here we were, with 2 moderately successful careers, 3 kids, and potentially homeless.

A little over a year ago, we rented a house that seemed like a dream come true. We agreed to rent the house, paying the rent to a down-payment and then buy the house. I have no doubt that God brought us to that place. From the beginning, it was clear that we were there for a reason, and, at first, that was a good thing. Everyone was happy, things were going well, we were working toward buying the house and the bottom dropped. Sparing you the outrageous and unbelievable details, I slowly came to realize that what we initially thought were trials that we were to overcome, may have been warning signs to tell us to run fast in the other direction. So we quit fighting, threw in the towel, rolled over and played dead. About 3 weeks ago, we gave notice that we were moving out, starting Labor Day weekend. One major problem though—we didn’t have a house to move into. We had found another house to buy but didn't realize what a process it is to buy a house; a process that we weren't completely ready for. Our last-resort plan was to get an RV, put all our stuff in storage, and live at the RV park or the lake for a while. As the days ticked by, that became a likely solution. On Wednesday of last week (2 days before we were to start moving), God nudged us toward an older couple from church with a 2^nd home in a great location, that was empty, except for a few of their things. We started moving in last weekend, just as we had originally planned, even though our initial decision was full of missing pieces. By handing the situation completely over to God, He was able to provide for us in a way that is better than anything we could have come up with on our own. And going back to the sermon last night, that house, the one we thought was perfect, was our Isaac. It was the very situation that we needed to give up to Him before we could experience what He had in store for us.

So we are moving and get to do all that fun stuff that comes with it, besides the heavy lifting. Changing my address and switching utilities over (most of them are with completely different companies, even though we are only moving 7 miles). If you think I’m missing a few washers in my brain now, just wait til the moving stress takes over. I will be useless.

Brits Before Breakfast

Sometimes I wonder why I’m a little unbalanced. Then I look at my relatives and wonder how I have even an ounce of normalcy. I do have an ounce, just not much more. If you don’t believe me, just take a look at this conversation snippet from this very morning—some things you just can’t make up. To fully understand this, you must know a few things about the family:  

1.  I am not a morning person. Not even close. 

2.  I live with 4 others who are morning people. 

3.  My oldest is 11, she is very smart and likes to make things up, like jingles and limericks. And she prefers to speak with a Monty Python-esque British accent.

It’s morning at my house, I am moving slow, the husband and kids are not moving slow. My brain doesn’t fully function before caffeine, generally in the form of Diet Dr. Pepper, by the gallon. Then comes the singing. There are songs about fish, songs about feet, songs about fish with feet, and other random jingles the oldest has made up in the last few days. Loud songs, in British accents. The oldest is singing at the top of her lungs, the other two are giggling at her, trying to sing along, and my husband is encouraging them. This would be funny if it weren’t pre-caffeine. So we got in the truck to go to school and I just had to say it:

Me: We have a new rule. No British accents before school.

Meg (oldest child): But they’re fun.

Me: You know I’m not a morning person. I can’t handle tomfoolery before caffeine.

Baby boy: What’s tomfoolery?

Me: Um, Meg, explain to your brother what tomfoolery is.

Meg: Kind of like goofing off, acting silly.

Middle child: Like singing with British accents?

Me: Exactly like that. So no more accents before school. My nerves can’t take it.

Meg: Mom, I hope I inherited Dad’s nerves.

I hope she did too.

Twice in a Row

Once again, we had an uneventful morning.  When I say uneventful, I mean no tears, yelling, or lost socks.  I even managed to fold a load of laundry before I left for work.  I know you are probably thinking, "If that crazy woman would just get out of bed a few minutes earlier, things would be different."  And you're absolutely right.  It's just ingrained in me to do things at the last minute.  I work best when I'm under pressure.  


One of the ladies I work with has a husband who is a super cool guy.  He's old enough to be my grandpa and I just think he's swell (for the record, I don't normally use the word "swell." I'm not sure where that came from).  He collects funny obituaries, and shares them with me.  He scours the internet daily for obits that are odd or unique.  For example, he brought me one today that said the deceased "departed this dimension."  Another one today said he "pastured many churches."  He told me today he would share his entire collection with me.  I'm giddy.

Gold Medal Mom

Today, on the 4^th day of the new school year, I earned my gold medal.  Hold your applause.  Well, maybe you don’t have to hold it all.

It was a “write this down” morning at my house.  Something happened that (a) never happens (b) is hard to believe and (c) probably will never happen again.  We managed to make it out the door, on time, with no tears, no yelling, no “Mom, where’s my _____?”  None!  For those of you who celebrate this accomplishment every day, I’m just a tad bit jealous (maybe a lot jealous).  Before today, no matter how hard I tried, no matter if we set out our clothes the night before, no matter if all 3 kids showered before bed, no matter if papers were signed and snacks prepared in advance…no amount of preparing made mornings any smoother, until today.  Sadly, I don’t know what the difference was.  We put out our clothes (except for me), 2/3 kids showered, located shoes, backpacks and hairbrushes, and bagged the goldfish crackers for snack.  And today, for no apparent reason, it was smooth sailing.  I’m keeping my fingers crossed for tomorrow, but not holding my breath.

Always In Transition

We have moved!  Ok we have moved the office, not the house.  It looks like Labor Day weekend is the big event and I really have mixed feelings.  I can’t describe how excited I am to finally be done with the drama and anxiety that surrounds us with our current house.  I know I am going to feel like a weight has been lifted.  I know that’s cliché but I have felt the physical effects of relieving emotional stress so I know it can (and will!) happen in this case.  My anxiety is the logistics of the move.  When we were military, moving was a piece of cake (another cliché—I’m on a roll today).  Really the hardest part was waiting.  I would stand in my house with a clipboard and direct traffic.  Now that we are civilians again, I’m not allowed to direct traffic.  I have to make the hard decisions, wrap, pack, unpack, unwrap, etc.  It is going to be difficult to maintain a sense of order while this is happening.  Not there is ever much order around my house but it would be nice to be able to minimize the stress, although we seem to thrive in chaos. 

School starts back next week which means I have put off school shopping long enough.  We must go this weekend.  Off we go tomorrow, lists in hand.  I really don’t dislike school shopping, I just dislike the crowds.  Picking out backpacks and crayons—that’s actually fun for me.  Hopefully I can manage without tears (from me or the kids).  My oldest child needs a fancy white dress for a church award ceremony.  If it were for my middle one, it would be easy.  My oldest hates dresses and anything girly.  It’s going to be quite a challenge to find her a dress that isn’t frilly, lacy or poufy.  And it’s August—white dresses aren’t really in season.  There will be tears.  I’m prepared.  I hope. 

My husband saw his neurologist again a couple of weeks ago and I’m happy to report that he is getting a new doctor!  His old doctor has no bedside manner and is just downright rude.  He has been in constant pain since early January.  We asked about a specific treatment that had worked for a friend.  Her response to that was that he would be an excellent candidate for that if his pain was severe.  You mean to tell me that constant, debilitating pain for over 6 months isn’t severe?!  Nonsense.  I was so upset by her lack of explanation and her obvious underestimating of his condition.  I found the patient advocate who suggested that we see a different neurologist at another VA clinic.  We are equal distance from two different clinics so it doesn’t matter which one we go to, as long as the doctor will offer some sort of explanation.  I’m not asking for a diagnosis; in fact, at this point, I have resigned myself to the fact that there will never be a diagnosis.  I just want him to have some relief so he can live his life normally, and, in return, the whole family can live normally again.  That may never come.  I just don’t understand how and why this turned into a chronic condition.  I am hopeful that a new doctor will at least have some bedside manner.  When you don’t have any answers, a doctor that shows concern would go a long way.