Monthly Archives: July 2014

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Sunset, Teach us to number our days

Sunrise, sunset
Swiftly flow the days
Seedlings turn overnight to sunflowers
Blossoming even as we gaze
Sunrise, sunset
Sunrise, sunset
Swiftly fly the years

-Fiddler on the Roof

 I've never seen Fiddler on the Roof. Maybe I should. But I remember my mom liking this song. I remember hearing it at weddings. And I remember thinking to myself how utterly depressing it is.

It's reminds me of a host of other somber songs like "Don't Blink" and "Remember When."

My awesome in-laws have graciously rented a beach house this week so that we could spend time together. I've little more to do than soak in sun and breeze. I'm feasting on Frito scoops and pimiento cheese while laughing and exchanging stories.

The days seem longer. And I'm grateful.

Jason and Hayden are driving back and forth some to be able to work during the day. They leave the beach house before 5:30 in the morning.

Last night Hayden and I took a stroll on the beach. We saw the sun set. Neither a picture nor words can describe how pretty it was.

"I saw the sun rise and set today", Hayden remarked.

He seemed to understand in depth the meaning of a day as he talked about things he wants to do with his life.

Kristi and Hayden painting

I understood the meaning of days too like those sad crooners in the Fiddler on the Roof, singing-

 Is this the little boy at play?
I don't remember growing older
When did they?
When did she get to be a beauty?
When did he get to be so tall?
Wasn't it yesterday
When they were small?

 Thankfully I was quickly wrapped up in the sky's warm pink hues and my heart was reminded of the Psalm.

 Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.
Psalm 90:12

 Seeing a sunrise and sunset bookends a day. Countless sweet days pass. For less sweet days, there's an end to our toil and trouble. And then there's a fresh start.  Through the years we're given one sunrise after another; new opportunity to bring glory to a good father.

I remember feeding the cows with my parents when I was growing up. I remember the sound of the shaking feed sacks and the cows' insistent "moos".   I remember the smell of the feed, and the grass being stirred beneath their feet.

And I remember counting the cows. Because each head was precious to the herd.

As I've taught little ones, I would ceaselessly count when we went on field trips. My mind's eye bounced from head to head always sighing with relief knowing I had the number I'd been given.

Memories are precious, count them. Troubles like thunderclouds pass over or rain down, and then they're gone. Count troubles passed too.

Swiftly fly the years and good is each day we're given.

Count them.

* This post was affectionately edited, formatted, and published by Kristi's loving and handsome husband.

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Hayden has always been a dreamer and a builder. And I have always been a skeptic and a pessimist. That's why I cringed when he brought home two large rusted lockers that had been discarded and a 2 by 7 piece of wood with the idea of building his own desk. If you think that made me shake my head no on the inside, you can imagine my internal reaction when he started buying parts (many, many parts) to build his own computer.

I didn't score an "A" for encouragement in either of those plan announcements.

The best I did was keep my mouth shut. I refrained from saying things like

"That desk is going to take up your entire room"

And

"How much money have you spent on this so far?"

"Are you sure this is going to work?"

 

Ok.  Not really.

I said all of those things.  But I didn't brow beat the boy this time.

Because in a few short months Hayden will be eighteen.

And because he was paying for it.

And maybe most important, why not?

Was it possible that the desk would become a gianormous fixture that would overwhelm his somewhat small room?
Absolutely.

Was it likely that he'd bust his computer budget and run out of money?
Sure.

Was it probable that he would find himself in a slightly tragic situation where he'd spent hour upon hour and dollars upon dollars to build his own computer and then it not work?
Mm hmm. (Does he even know how much those things cost?)

That's why not.

I knew lots of good reasons why my soon-to-be eighteen year old shouldn't be let loose to create catastrophe.

But a small voice inside urged me to throw caution to the wind.

It was the same voice I heard years ago as I stood in the checkout line at Walmart.  As the last few items ceased their ride on the counter conveyer belt, I noticed Hayden lifting up the thick black belt and peering underneath studying exactly how toothpaste and cereal boxes got from point A to point B (the cashier).

Never in all my years have I had the slightest bit of curiosity about such a thing. But he did. And in that moment I remember being struck at his intrigued nature. And I remember the notion being impressed upon me to let him be.  This was one of the many times I realized my problem of getting right smack in the middle of something God might be doing with him.

Too many times I've interfered. In my mind it's my job to prevent failure, but so many times I sabotage his opportunity to grow and to learn.

Experience and growth are things we can count on happening when we as parents ever so often listen to the still small voice that tells us to let them be.

Their successfully doing what they set out to do isn't always the true goal. The attempt to do things they have yet to do before will grow them.

Allowing them to do things that you never did, or your friends' kids never did will give them unique experience.

And (I hate this one…..But) failure will
grow them and give them experience to guide them.

If his self-made computer ended up not working after taking up a couple of hard-earned paychecks, he'll have learned.

And so it goes with a computer made with his own hands that works like a charm.

So as Paul says in Philippians 1,

 peace to you from God....

being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus. -Philippians 1:6

 

-Thankful we can be partners in the gospel of grace; showing that God continues to do a good work even in slow learners like myself.

I love this guy
I love this guy

P.S. Can't close without telling you. After two days of putting together a hundred tiny pieces of "things" and consultations with two computer geeks, Hayden's computer is up and running. I'll take one hole punch on my mama brag card.

-Hayden approved this message.

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I found my wedding dress in the first Brides magazine I purchased; my fickle heart's desire met. I remember tearing the page out for safe keeping. I shopped with my mom and (soon-to-be) mother in law and tried on a half a dozen dresses, but I knew the one I wanted. And luckily we got our hands on it quickly; the very same dress pictured in the black and white magazine photo tucked in my purse.

Finding my dream dress was easy.

The girls and I are having our summer visit at the house I grew up in.  Today I had the girls humor a romantic notion to model my dress. I had Rylie brave yellow jackets in the shed. Hallie participated without complaint as I captured shot after shot of a dress whose time has passed.

h2

I wanted somehow to preserve such a precious piece of the past. I think we succeeded.

h5

r1

 

My real hope though is that my girls see past the silk and layers of petticoat. My dream wedding dress was easy to find. What I really want them to know is that

 

 It's love beyond the frills that's worth working for.

r4

Love never gives up.
Love cares more for others than for self.

h6
Love doesn’t want what it doesn’t have.

r11
Love doesn’t strut,

h11
Doesn’t have a swelled head,

r5
Doesn’t force itself on others,
Isn’t always “me first,”

r6
Doesn’t fly off the handle,
Doesn’t keep score of the sins of others,
Doesn’t revel when others grovel,

h7
Takes pleasure in the flowering of truth,

Hallie in my mom's dress with my dad
Hallie in my mom's dress with my dad

Puts up with anything,

-When she noticed the yellowjackets
-When she noticed the yellowjackets

Trusts God always,

h12
Always looks for the best,

h9
Never looks back,

h10
But keeps going to the end.

1 Cor 13:4-7 (The Message)

r9I still love my dress.  But this LOVE stuff is worth working for.

 

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It hasn't been the best morning. I'll spare you the details.

Surprising, huh.

If you ask me later, I'll probably tell you.

When your "Suck it Up" won't work
When your "Suck it Up" won't work

 

It's been one of those mornings where I wonder if I'll ever be a good housekeeper. Or a mom who remembers to make eye, hair and dental appointments. Or a cook who hears the whole table say "Mmm!", instead of sympathetic words like "That's ok....I like my chicken dry". (Unfortunately I'm not making this up.)

My morning, like so many mornings, and afternoons....and evenings..and midnights was pity-FULL.

I'm never a great housekeeper. Those responsibilities that other people seem to know to do, I'm not aware of. I find out about those things along the way; like the time a friend mentioned how long it had been since she cleaned the ceiling fan or the time my mother-in-law mentioned cleaning her baseboards.

People do that?

And that's just the housecleaning stuff.  I'm quite inadequate seeming in other areas. I've considered asking my thirteen year old exactly how I'm supposed to apply eyeshadow.

Anyway. This morning I was vacuuming the stairs; a chore I most hate. It's one of those hand held vacuum things that I carry that has an extending (always in the way) suction arm. Vacuuming the stairs hurts my back. And frankly, it boggles my mind. How do those tiny feathers of unknown origin and tufts of hair find their way to the staircase? And how long have they been there?

To make a despised chore worse, the vacuum has had poor suction. I find myself scattering the contents instead of sucking them up; having to be satisfied with merely rearranging the untidiness and making the carpet look at least look brushed.

 

My "suck it up" hasn't been working lately.


This morning I had a brilliant idea though. I decided that like all other vacuums, this hand-held model must have a bag that needs to be replaced. It HAS felt heavier the last few go rounds. I boldly took the little machine apart and found a bag bursting at the seams.

Giving no heed to the sign on the bag that said "DO NOT REUSE BAG", I  leaned over the garbage sack and began to empty the contents of the burdensome, soil-filled bag.

I'm still in shock at the amount it held.

Kind of like the amount of junk I hold.

I started out the morning thinking about how I just don't get it done. In terms of "the things I need to do" as a mother, a wife, a growing Christian and even a friend, my list is a mile long.

And the end of that list is a moving target. Something is always being added. The things I want to do are unending. Who I want to be is always out of reach. That's when the unending cloud of dust and hair balls I dumped out were like magic sands.

 

For a moment I rested in conquered dust bunnies.

The heavy stuff appeared weightless as I let it all fall.

I didn't lament what's yet to be done. And I looked in victory at what had already been accomplished.  And honestly, I felt ready to face what lies before me.

 I assume this peace came through the process of emptying; getting rid of all the junk I'd been carrying in my effort to "do these things". When my dust-clouded vision cleared, I was reminded how very important it is that we empty ourselves. There is something more important than our busting at the seams list, more important than our seemingly lofty goals or our self-given report card.

I decided (AGAIN) that I want to be the woman who frees her toiling hands and empties her guilt-laden, overdriven heart.... to make room for weightless, beautiful grace.

I want to empty myself of all that I've done (good and bad). I want to let go of my ambitions "casting my burdens upon the Lord". Psalm 55:22 reminds me, that in doing so, he will sustain me; not a clean house or a glowing resume'. My nature lends me to live by the "suck it up" motto. And undoubtedly, there are things I must endure. My unreasonable goal of "doing it all", "BEING ALL" though, is one thing I can get rid of.

True story.

 


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Dearest Daughter,

You reminded me again today how hair brushing is a dreaded daily activity. I know. You've got a mess of hair on that head of yours which means you're going to have tangles. You squeal in pain almost every single time we have a brushing session. It hardly helps when I let you watch the Disney channel trying to distract you. The twenty different kinds of moisturizing shampoo, conditioners and detanglers that I've tried haven't helped that much either.

unnamed (71)

You accuse me of being the worst "hair brusher" lauding your uncle and dad as better than me.

Here's the thing.

Mamas know that tangles can't stay. Tangles left alone grow to be stubborn, massive knots. They have to be addressed. Though it causes you discomfort, we work through strands until each knot relents. It's not easy.  And I may not show it, but hurting you, hurts me.

That's something you won't understand for a while.

You're learning to brush your own hair. And I'm glad. It thrills me to see you grow.  Unfortunately, there are those other catches that you need help with. There will be confused messes in life that very much resemble those hair tangles you get.

There have already been some of those occasions. Remember those times that you brought home math papers with circled, missed problems? You couldn't understand why I made you go back and correct them. Why couldn't I just leave it alone? They were life tangles; a mess to address. We needed to work through them so that next time you approached those kinds of problems you'd master them with more ease.

I'll continue to make you clean your room. And tell the truth when you've made a mistake. I'm here to help you with life's disarranged parts.

Later there will be relationships that you'll wish I'd stay out of.  Still, there will be times I'm going to be right there in that mess. I'll keep teaching you to make right, the things you've done wrong. There will be apologies you are taught to make and apologies you are encouraged to accept. There will be times that I tell you to walk away from people who don't treat you the way you should be treated. I will teach you that some relationships aren't healthy.

Some of life's snarls you won't be able to see. They'll be just like the knots in the back of your hair right in the underneath. You never knew they were there. But a mama knows.

Learn to trust me.

There will be other times when I brush and there's ease. No tangles.

I'll keep brushing anyway.

Please understand. This act will prevent tangles. I'll do much the same as I stay in your business in the years to come. Just ask your older sister. I'll be involved in what music you listen to and what you post on Instagram. I'll help determine what you can wear and the places you'll go.

I pray that as you grow older your mind will change about my constant care over your life. I hope that someday you won't find it intrusive like you may for the next couple of years. This discipline of working together through the disarray of life will be one of the things that brings us closer together. And I hope that as you grow wiser you'll come to trust my forever-desire to bring about good things in your life.

It's my hope that someday you know that the tangles, life's snarls and knots, they've never been important; YOU ARE.

And maybe there will come a time that you ask me to brush your hair.

I think your hair is beautiful.

For the moment all discipline seems painful rather than pleasant, but later it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who have been trained by it. Hebrews 12:11

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I blame my Granny for this; or at least tabloid-type magazines that could always be found in her bathroom. Globe. Star. The Enquirer. "Enquiring minds want to know."  It's true. They do.
It may have been those magazines that gave me my first real taste of wanting to be up-to-date on current events (even though the events were often untrue). My inquiring mind would usually have an opinion. Back in the day, having an opinion meant shaking my head at the fact that Dolly Parton had gotten another reconstructive surgery. Or Granny and I could discuss the events leading up to the night Princess Di lost her life.

It's different now.

Social media (which I love for many reasons) has an unending menu of events to read about. Articles on moral and political issues and world events are at the tap of your finger. You don't even have to go to the check-out aisle of your supermarket if you're wanting to read biased or incomplete information regarding current events. After reading about such issues and events, one usually finds that they have a comment. Now days when I, or anyone else wants to discuss such events, we have a much bigger audience than Granny. Social media has become a playground for the bored and the bullyish.  It's a place to inquire and then insult or threaten anyone who doesn't agree with you.

Thankfully I've never I experienced any mean-spirited comments personally. It seems that most of the hateful things people say are to strangers. I guess it's easier to be insulting to someone you never intend to face. It's also a little safer to be courageous when commenting online. We teach our children (I think most of us do) not to bully. But there are so many who go online and lose their wits when it comes to giving their opinion. Online speech seems so often to be laced with anger and hate.

Then of course there are the spiteful commenters that care little about the issue. They care more about taunting. I think some of them might be the same people who pulled the legs off of Grand Daddy Long-Leg spiders just for the fun of it.

The following are comments I read in the comments thread regarding two recent events. The first event is the Hobby Lobby case that went to the Supreme Court. It was decided that Hobby Lobby would not have to provide employee coverage on four types of abortifacient birth control methods that violated their religious conscience.

The second event I read about yesterday. A Texas Tech cheerleader went on a hunt in South Africa. She legally killed several animals, giving some of the meat to local villagers. She took pictures of herself with the animals she killed. A rhino that she is pictured with was only tranquilized to receive medical attention for a leg injury. I am not a hunter. I don't even fish. But I'm flabbergasted at the response this girl has received.

When deciding to use direct quotes for example, it didn't take long to find a variety of unnecessary responses. Keep in mind that I didn't post any of the many comments that included profanity or vulgarity.   

Common Poor Commenting Tactics (Suggesting some of us need a break from social media): 

 

1. Use of false analogies.

So, I'm curious.

If your boss is Muslim, and requires you to wear a burqa at work, because of his religious convictions, you're all for it, right?

You know, because of his religious freedoms.


2. Use of one or more colorful words to call someone a loose woman though 1.They have given you no reason to believe such and 2.The fact of whether or not they are of loose morals has nothing to with the issue at hand.

3. Making uninformed comments.

-Usually uninformed because you have not read the article in its entirety.

Birth control pills are quite commonly used to help with health issues like PCOS or endometriosis.  Now we are denying medicine to treat a health condition because of its other use.

 

 

Sixteen types of birth control are covered by Hobby Lobby.  Whereas the sixteen approved are used to treat conditions such as the above mentioned, the "morning after pills" which Hobby Lobby is not covering, are not as far as I can tell.


4. Assuming that you know someone's political leaning or their faith based on a single comment. And then attack that leaning, or that faith.

5  Responding to someone by talking about their lack of attractiveness.

6. Intentionally going to sites that you know are disagreeable to your beliefs.

7.  USING CAPS LOCK TO MAKE YOUR POINT!!

(or usage of multiple exclamation marks)

FOR THE VERY LAST TIME! DO NOT COMMENT IF YOU'RE GOING TO SAY ANYTHING ABOUT BIRTH CONTROL NOT BEING COVERED!  IT IS STILL COVERED!

 

8. Insulting someone's intelligence instead of calmly stating why you disagree or by stating facts.

I think there is an overpopulation of dumb bimbos in the world, should we put retards like you in a fenced area and hunt you down?  It will be for the common good of all people....We need to stop hereditary retardation from passing on to your offspring. we kill you, we kill the disease.

 

9. Making fun of their spelling or grammar.

10. Making wild generalizations.

Thanks for not giving me the choice to my own body. Can I get carrots banned because I want to?

 

killing just for fun is sick and horrible. every person who needs that kind of recognition has inferiority complexes. what surprise....she is from Texas

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Because people from Texas like killing for fun,  They also all have inferiority complexes....

11. Wishing for or threatening harm

Because of hobby lobby's war on women, it's little consolation that as a Christian I'm 100% certain the owners will burn in Hell.

Can't decide which one I want to burn down first, Hobby Lobby or SCOTUS.

I hope all five conservatives on the high court BURN IN HELL!

 

12. Wishing for their death

Hopefully an animal takes you down soon

Unnecessary comments come from all sides; Christian, left, right, meat eaters and public breast feeding fans. Snarkiness and impatience with people we disagree with is just plain old human nature. But why share a comment that holds no good purpose? There's insinuation that in our passionate commenting, we all want to make the world a better place.  The fact is, the world would be a better place with a lot less poor commenting.