Good bye, Thanksgiving. Hello Christmas!

Such was the sentiment I wrote on my wipe-off plate the morning all our company left after the Thanksgiving holiday. I'm always exhausted the Monday after, and always sad to see our families drive away. The older we all get, the more I wish we lived closer to everyone. This year, however, I was especially pensive about the time we had just spent together.

So many different snapshots went through my mind of twenty of us living and/or floating in and out of this house for the past five days. Various shifts of help in the kitchen ranging from five to 85 years old made me smile... most of all, the robotic movements of all the cousins pitching in to clear tables and wash and dry dishes after the big Thanksigiving dinner! I couldn't have been more grateful. There was the traditional pool tournament downstairs, while boxing and bowling on the Wii upstairs was a new favorite this year. Old girl scout songs were spontaneously sung (with bouts of forgetfulness), for the pre-schoolers around the dining room table one night. Then there was a hilarious discussion in the upstairs sitting area by several generations about when and if you should ever be too old to enjoy sex. That's always a good food digestor!

When things got slow, we could always rev things back up by trying to get Simone to speak some new words or listening to tales told by kindergarteners... some true, some not. The cousins had a night out this year to themselves; no parents, no kids. My sister's family left early for good reason. The new baby born earlier in the week beckoned a new Grandma home to hold little Audrey Jane. We missed Sam and Carly, the parents, and others who stayed behind, but are thankful she arrived into this world healthy. At the same time, we celebrated my dad's 85th birthday, putting a new spin on the "something old, something new" phrase. Dad is just as fit as ever and looks better every year. Still, no one escapes the end of life, and we can't help wonder how many more Thanksgivings he and the "wiser" ones will be with us. For that reason, we presented Dad with all the military medals he earned during his service to our country as a U.S. Marine in World War II. What a special and memorable birthday it was!

We missed Doug's dad this year, but it was so good to have his mom come again, after several years of caring for her ailing husband. Reminding us again, however, that life begins and ends, two among the group this year are expecting new babies whose cries will hopefully be part of the backdrop next year.

One of the highlights for me was the Sunday brunch at the country club where the kids each made a gingerbread house to usher in the Christmas season. It turned the corner for me from fall to winter, from Thanksgiving to Christmas, as the snow gently fell outside the windows, as if on cue.

Not just another season was passing. Not merely another year. Rather something bigger, more cyclical. We're all getting older, and there are more children. My girls are not just becoming young women; they are young women. It was confirmed this morning when Lauren stopped by to copy some of our family's traditional recipes from the weekend spread. She wanted the recipe for Aunt Gloria's vegetable dip, who is sadly no longer here to make it herself. And she wanted my Mom's deviled egg recipe, which she got from my aunt. She grabbed a few others and I smiled as she drove away. I knew the sweet times and stories passed down through the generations, told around the family tables where those same foods were served would get a new twist and keep going.

No sooner had she left, did Shannah call for my holiday quiche recipe. She was making it for dinner tonight. And so the new twist begins.

I'm home alone tonight amidst the rubble left behind from another wildly successful family gathering. So grateful for a weekend set aside to actually be thankful together. So grateful for a family like ours. We may not be perfect. We may not always get along. There may be hard times and disappointments. But as we say good bye to Thanksgiving and hello to Christmas, I'm reminded of a saying in a silly children's book that was read too many times this weekend;

I don't care if you believe it,

it's the kind of [home] I live in,

and I hope I never leave it.

Grateful, but Worthless

I was emptying the dishwasher tonight, trying to work magic on a disastrous kitchen, because Doug had just sent me an excited text saying he was coming home tonight, instead of tomorrow! Of course I was happy to have him home early, and more happy he was able to cut his travel from five days this week to only four. The news, however, also cut my "Sew all week, don't clean, Doug won't be home til Friday", plans from five days to four.

So here I was frantically switching from sewing to straightening. Now I don't know about you, but I do a lot of thinking when I wash dishes. Tonight was no different. I began to think about how I was going to finish the dress I was sewing and still make two more before next week started. Then I began to wonder how I was going to get all my Thanksgiving dishes prepared plus clean the house and get all the beds ready for the houseful of family coming for the holiday. Then the tightening began in my stomach and that gave way to feeling pressure to complete all the other holiday projects I wanted to accomplish before the year ended. Then that pressure caused me to remember all the things I had hoped to get done this year and didn't. It happens every year this time... the "I'm grateful, but I'm worthless" syndrome. I can manage to give grace to every one else and find gratitude for everything God has done for them throughout the year, but all I can muster for myself is a list of should-haves and didn'ts. And the list is accompanied by the worst finger-shaking, stare-down-your nose, tsk-tsk-tsking any shamer ever dished out. I humiliate myself.

Fortunately, I had just been thinking about the benefits of a change of attitude, and the scripture in Romans 12 where the Apostle Paul admonishes us to be transformed by the renewing of our minds. We may not be able to change our circumstances, but amazingly, we can completely change our outlook (and often that tightening in the gut). It's as simple as refusing to dwell on the negative and concentrating on the positive. Satan would love for us to mope around feeling sorry for ourselves, resenting others, or feeling defeated about our lives. It keeps us depressed and miserable. But, we can choose to be humbly grateful or grumbly hateful. It's our choice. And we have the ability to make the change! Incredible!

A quick remembering of this little talk I had with myself earlier in the week was all it took for me to recalculate my failures for the year. While I had made progress on some of my goals, I had failed miserably at others and reached none of them completely. "But why hadn't I?", I asked myself. "Because of the choices I made. I chose others things, and that always gets me in trouble", I chided. So I decided to think back over what those choices were.

While I didn't publish this year again, I have been working on several manuscripts. I also spoke to several hundred precious women on the Island of Curacao about relationships and shared a week's worth of counseling lessons with another group of women studying to be lay-counselors and directors for Women's Centers spread out all over the world. I researched and wrote a brochure about sex-trafficking, at the request of a special counselor with the Salvation Army in Sri Lanka who wanted to leave hundreds of them in places frequented by innocent victims in hopes they might realize there is hope and a way out.

Closer to home, I celebrated 12 family birthdays with loud dinners and lots of laughter, and loads of clean-up from the parties in the dining room or around the pool. I babysat too many times to count, picked up grandkids from school at least 75 times and fixed as many after school snacks, listening to all the playground happenings and show-and-tells. I monitored bike races and hop-scotch in the driveway, learned LEGO Star Wars on X-Box and graduated to designing my own Mii and making it to level 5 on Indiana Jones on the Wii.

I grew butterflies, baked cookies, sewed a butterfly costume for one granddaughter's 5th birthday and a ballerina tu-tu for another granddaughter's 5th birthday. I happily made it through a week at DisneyWorld with all our kids and grandkids and just as happily persevered through our first official "Cousins Camp", toting 4 of our grandkids (just Gigi and Papaw!), to our place on N. Cap during the only week this year it was actually too cold to swim in Southern Florida! We colored a lot of pictures!

I said a final good-bye to my father-in-law (and my dog), and helped my husband care for his sweet Mama's heart and home in the weeks following the funeral, and I (and my sissies), planned a whoppin' bash for my parents 60th wedding anniversary, all experiencing both the joys and sorrows of aging. And during the months in between, I sewed curtains and painted walls to make welcome our 6th grandbaby. A-h-h, the circle of life.

I enjoyed the best 53rd birthday ever by hosting a slumber party for all my grandkids, followed by my very own party at Chuck E. Cheese's and an adult version at the Country Club that night. I safely traveled on about 18 separate flights, and logged hundreds of miles in the car, washed thousands of pounds of clothes, cooked lots of meals (but not as many as I could have), cleaned the same toilets and vacuumed the same carpets over and over again, walked, fished, read, wrote, planned, worried, counseled, prayed, sang, laughed and cried.

So amidst all this living, I didn't get a few things done. Big things, as far as my list of goals goes, but somehow they pale in comparison to the important things in life. Now that I've looked over the choices I made this year, I fully intend to make the same choices next year, too. I also fully intend to make another list of goals and work toward completing them. Goals are good. They keep us pressing onward. It's when they govern even our sense of worth that they become more like demands.

Yes, next year I want to lose some weight, start walking again, and submit some things to publishers. But more than any of these, I want to choose to cherish the important relationships in my life, even if doing so crowds my list a little.

God's Most Precious Gifts!

Life here in the midwest has been busy, busy, busy! We have been celebrating birthdays and birth-days! Our newest member of the family and 6th grandchild arrived September 26th. Nya Joelle joins the other 4 girls and Gray, but her big sister, Geneviève, makes sure the rest of the cousins know exactly who she belongs to!

I have been quietly pondering all the sacred blessings that accompany a newborn baby. To see their tiny fingernails and perfectly formed lips, to hear their hushed squeaks and sighs, to feel their velvety soft cheeks and smell that brand-new powdery baby smell... there's nothing like it!

And what a joy to take care of my daughter and her family while she recovered from the hard work of bringing this littlest bundle of love into the world. I loved every minute of being "domestic help" again in a busy household. I miss those days. Of all the laundry and cleaning and preparing meals, the most fun was, of course, being caretaker for Genna. We made it through countless readings of A Fish Out of Water and Corduroy and watched Flipper and Madeliene too many times to number. We also talked in the car, played at the park, officially welcomed autumn at the Pumpkin Patch, sang songs, packed lunches for pre-school, said prayers, handled her 3 yr. old anxieties the best we could, and layed silently together until those black eyelashes became too heavy to keep her awake.

A new baby is a wonderful thing. I watch her sleep so peacefully with an occasional accidental smile. I watch my own baby girl, now grown, mother her new daughter so tenderly with all the intentions of being the perfect Mom. I watch her family interact together with love and laughter. I marvel with humble gratitude for God's magical gift of life. All of His creativity and sovereignty and love for us rolled up into one pink flannel receiving blanket!

Thank you, God, for Nya. May she grow to know your great love for her personally, and may she respond with a grateful heart that lives for you.

"Let the Little Children Come!"

In our family, we're convinced kids have a direct line to God. Our sixth grandchild will be born this week (we are SO excited!), and undoubtedly, the first time she stares and involuntarily smiles straight ahead at nothing we can see, someone will say, "She's smiling at the angels. She just left there, you know." And there will follow a brief discussion of other times we were made certain that God and His heavenly helpers stay close by these precious innocent ones.

Like the time Viève and I were "shell-pickin'" on the beach and talking about how much God loves us to give us such wondrous treasures. "You really do love us so much, God, don'tcha!?" she exclaimed when we dug out our first sand dollar of the day. Then immediately in a hushed, amazed tone she looked up at me and gasped, "Gigi! He said, "Yes, I really DO!" I must tell you, when a child says something like that, you don't just laugh it off. I'm still pondering that one.

We witnessed something similar this morning at church. Our whole family went to Lauren and Adam's church because Simone (the youngest grandchild for five more days), was being formally dedicated. Adam's family was also there, and together we took up two full pews. Invariably when we are together like that, no child sits with his or her respective parent. They either choose an aunt or uncle's lap, or an indulging grandparent's. I think they instinctively hope to avoid the proverbial finger snap from their own parent. After all, they rationalize, they are still being supervised... perhaps by someone who will let them get by with a tad more wiggle room, but supervised, nonetheless. Why are we always more lenient and grace-giving with other people's kids?

Such was the case this morning. Gray was on Uncle Adam's lap, Savannah was back bouncing between Aunt Jocelyn and Uncle Joel and her Grandma Linda, Berkley was wherever Simone was, and Genna was in front with Aunt Shannah. We were all singing during the Praise part of worship, and the kids got involved when there was a song they liked. Eyes were fixed on the big screen where the words were displayed, some people were clapping and praise was rising as we sang,

The heavens declare your greatness, the oceans cry out to you,

the mountains, they bow down before you, so I'll lift my voice

and I'll sing my praise to you!

By the time the chorus came around again, we looked down just in time to see Genna bust out into the aisle and begin dancing and twirling spontaneously with her head tilted back and the biggest smile on her face as if to say, "Look at me, Jesus! I'm dancin for YOU!" Shannah and I exchanged a familiar glance before she gently and appropriately guided her back into our area. Embarrassed, Genna buried her head into Aunt Shannah's shoulder and I saw Shannah whisper something tenderly into her ear that made Genna smile her eye-squinching grin. Now some people may say three-year-olds aren't big enough to understand what is going on in church. This is the same three-year-old, however, who later was busy coloring the bulletin while the pastor spoke of a conversation between God and the shepherd boy David. She looked up and said, "That David wasn't being a very good listener, was he?" Multi-tasking by a three-year-old.

As the song ended, I leaned over and told Shan it was sad we had to stop Genna because her little outburst no doubt made God's buttons pop. "That's exactly what I told her. 'Genna, do you know who loved your dance more than anything? Jesus did!" And Genna smiled a knowing smile only a child could truly understand.

The perfect sandcastle! Thanks, Dad!

You can do it, Simone!

Three Musketeers...

uh, I mean Ballerinas!

Hula dancing, backyard style!

Our Beautiful Beach!

Where it all happens!

Woo-Hoo!

"All I want for thummer is my two front teeth...!"

SUMMER'S END

Boo.

Birthdays, graduations, trips to the beach, pool parties, grill-outs, and otherwise lazy days all comprised the oh-so-satisfying summer of '08. Seems like only yesterday we were waiting for the pool to open and the temps to rise enough to dive in. Now we're saying goodbye to those gloriously long, hot summer days. How often I felt like young Vivi in that unforgettable scene from Divine Secrets just before the sisterhood dared to replace the summer night's sweltering heat with some wild fun. "There's not a G-- damn breeze in the entire state of Louisiana." Admittedly, I didn't look like young Vivi, but I was sure as hot, perspiringly speaking. Though we filled the summer with loads of fun, I'm not too sure how wild it was! Here are some summer snapshots. Enjoy!

My Small Stack of Stuff

It's been awhile since I posted anything, for several reasons. It's summer, so my house has a revolving door (straight out to the pool!), we're traveling a lot, and I confess I just don't have the nerve yet to actually write for the whole world to read everything that's really going on inside me. But, I'll give you this tiny peek, and maybe you'll relate.

My writer's block has been more like an impenetrable wall for the past six months. I am, however, determined to take a manuscript with me to the fall writer's conference, so I decided to register for the conference today. (Surely that pressure will jumpstart my writing engine.) I've tried several times searching the internet for a specific conference with no luck, so I decided to dig up the business card my daughter gave me of a fellow-writer I have never met. I thought she had scribbled the website of the conference on the back of the card, which would save me a lot of time and trouble.

So, I grabbed the stack of small stuff out of my desktop organizer, which is where I keep all the little things I'm not quite sure what to do with. It's the kind of junk I don't need immediately, but can't justify throwing away. My habit is to leave it all there until I'm positive I have no use for it (or either the inspiration or expiration date passes), and then I don't feel so guilty about throwing it away later. Do you have stuff like that? I'm always proud I have a place and a routine for it! It makes me feel better about my procrastination and indecisiveness.

My stack of small stuff is such a window into my life. Here's what I found: On top was a $15 gift card for iTunes from Christmas. That would probably drive my kids crazy if they knew I had it and never used it. I just didn't relate to that kid silhouetted on the front jamming to his i-pod air guitar-style with his leg kicked up over his head. I can't get my leg up that far anymore.

Next was my Northwest and Delta reward cards. Since I rarely fly either of those airlines, I'm pretty sure the cost of the plastic cards cost more than any benefit I'll ever receive from them, but they just seem too valuable to toss. Must be that credit card look.

Then I have my membership cards for a couple Counseling organizations. I don't need to carry them around all the time, but I need to keep them. By the way, while these are far more valuable to me than the airline cards, they're only paper; go figure.

Of course, there were several hotel and retail reward cards as well. I call these stress cards. They always promise big savings or double discounts, but I'm always a purchase or two away, or the date isn't quite right, or I leave paying full price, only to discover I actually had the number of punches that would have saved me $100, if I only would have remembered that tiny little card! I began boycotting these cards a few years ago when my blood pressure began to rise. I attributed it to these nasty little retail head games. Of course, I still punish myself by keeping them.

Finally, there were several expired coupons for things I was sure the grandkids would need, this random miniature software CD for some program on my computer I never use, an old health insurance card, and two business cards. One of them belonged to a guy that promised me a book contract (which never happened), and the other was the fellow writer I was looking for (which did not have the web address I needed on the back).

So, after an hour of unsuccessfully digging through my small stack of stuff, I was back to square one on registering for the conference and moving toward my writing goals I've been sluggishly avoiding. Frustrated, I gathered the small stack of stuff (minus the expired coupons), and found I had missed an item. It was a membership card for Royal Caribbean's cruise rewards. I sure did put it right on top. Maybe a cruise is exactly what I need!

Let the Celebration Begin!

Today my scripture reading was the prayer Solomon prayed when he dedicated the Temple. Since I've been out of order with my Bible reading, my heart splatted when I saw the heading "Dedication of the Temple." That's where I should be about now... dedicating the Temple I purposed to restore in January of 2007. I estimated it would take me about a year and a half to "restore the Temple" (my body), and that would put me right about now for a dedication ceremony (celebration, who are we kidding?!).

Have you ever had that feeling you had wasted months toward a goal when you stop to realize where you would be now if you had just stuck with it? You would be in shape, or sizes smaller, or that much closer to a degree or vacation savings or a new car, or whatever? I hate it when that happens.

I read how all of Israel had partied their hearts out for almost an entire month because of Solomon's faithfulness. By the end of the chapter when the disgustingly disciplined and dutiful King finally sends the people home, I was feeling so disgusted with myself I simply had to turn to my newly-realized coping mechanism to deal with it all. I started thinking, "Yeah, well if I hadn't blown out my ankle in July... that cost me 2 months of walking. And then my knee started acting up in November, which I'm still in therapy for! And by the time I got that 7-week virus this year, it was all over. Who could keep up any sort of fitness routine with those setbacks? Besides, Solomon probably had an entourage who, at the snap of a finger, made sure he succeeded no matter what!"

So, feeling quite smug and justified with my failure, I closed my Bible and reached for a devotional (My Utmost for His Highest... what WAS I thinking!?). And I knew I was in the middle of a Providential conference when the very first sentence read, "We have to form habits to express what God's grace has done in us.." OK, the forming habits thing I got right away. It's what I continually beat myself up over. I can have 24 hours worth of good habits, but I am plagued with self-condemnation for the ONE habit I may lack.

But I wasn't hearing condemnation here in this little conference the Holy Spirit had obviously arranged. I was hearing the gentle and ever-grace-filled purpose for forming habits... "to express what God's grace has done in us." Oswald Chambers (a.k.a. the Holy Spirit, in this case), goes on to say it's not a question of our salvation, but to allow Christ's life to be expressed through my mortal flesh. And how better for Him to really be seen and understood than in the disagreeable parts of myself. Not those things which are easy for me, but through my greatest struggles. So there is no way that good habit could be through my own doing... I just don't have it in me. Not to mention how all the roadblocks life throws in my path (injured ankles, bad knees, illnesses, etc.) push me farther down the failure's path.

So I'm right back to obedience again. Obedience is the key. I knew it all along. I've wrestled with it. I've tried it. I've even been successful at being obedient (for a time). But where's the grace in that? And so, I'm right back to that old legalistic thinking I've worked so hard to get away from.

Then He shows me what this little conference is all about. Another teaching moment. Another lesson to learn. A little farther down I read, "You must keep yourself fit (no doubt, spiritually, but certainly physically for me!), to let the life of the Son of God be manifested, and you cannot keep yourself fit if you give way to self-pity." Yikes! Me? Self-pity? Seems I've been found out and I didn't even know I was the culprit!

So what if I do indulge in self-pity when I fail? No one actally knows it. It's not like I visibly wallow in it. Mostly, I try to avoid any public displays of self-pity at all costs. So what's the lesson really about here? Again I hear a piercing reply.

Self-pity sets in to cover one of two things that are too painful for us face. It's a most classic coping mechanism, albeit also a most pathetic one. Either we feel an overwhelming sense of guilt for our part in a failure or lacking, or there is present a paralyzing fear which prevents us from overcoming the obstacle we face. "Poor me" says "There was nothing I could do", but covers "There was plenty I could have done, I just didn't do it." Or "Poor me" says, "There's no use trying, it will never happen for me", but covers "I'm too afraid (of the outcome, of failure, of success, etc.), to go through with this."

So which is it for me? What is my self-pity covering? Guilt or fear? After much reflection, I have to admit, it's a little of both. I hate that I didn't push through and stick with my Temple Restoration, despite the setbacks. The guilt is truly overwhelming. I have no one or nothing to blame but myself. I must admit I kept a forward momentum throughout the busted ankle ordeal, but the knee injury and subsequent setbacks were just too much. There I go again with that self-pity thing.

The fear factor really had me baffled. Was I afraid to finish? Am I afraid to finish now? This one is too deep for this blog, but for a hundred million reasons I must confess I am fearful at once of failure and success. That's not a pretty thing to discover about yourself. So where do I go from here? What struck me next was most amazing.

In this providential conference we were having, the Holy Spirit prompted the question. "What are the antidotes to guilt and fear?" After much thinking, I realized they were Grace and Trust. SMACK! There it was! The two concepts I have the most difficulty with. One is passive, the other active. One I accept, the other I give. One I acknowledge, the other I effort. One envelopes me, the other exudes me. The only way to be liberated from guilt is accepting the non-condemning, wholly-accepting Grace the Father has for me whether I succeed or fail or even attempt. That is so counter to the core of who I am. And the only way to be set free from the bonds of fear that keep me from rising to my greatest potential is choosing to Trust in him who is able to do exceeding abundantly above all I could ever even think of, much less ask for.

"Well, that's easy enough", I retort jokingly to the invisible members of this conference. "I'll simply put this past year behind me, extending to myself (and all my nasty little failures!), all the Grace you have extended to me. Likewise, I will step out again on the road to Restoration, kicking out of the way every fear that dares cross my path, trusting you every step of the way. Piece of cake!"

"Don't be so flippant. It is exactly as simple as you have stated. Of course, however, it's not as easy for you as it sounds. It is the disagreeable in you that, given to me every time, will exhibit what my Grace has done in you. After all, if it were easy, everyone would be doing it."

BUTTERFLIES

Well, we have been VERY diligent about watching our caterpillars turn themselves into “Racoons” (as Berk says… instead of cocoons! Ha) And we have been VERY diligent about checking them to see if they were still raccoons or if they had emerged into butterflies!

And, guess what?!! Last week, while Gigi and Papaw were out of town, the butterflies hatched!! And Gray actually got to see one of them break out! What fun!! Every time I called Gray, I asked him whether he thought they were ready to be turned loose or not and every time the answer was the same… “No Geege… I can tell they’re not ready yet.” Hmm. (Since their entire life span is only 2 months, we were a little concerned that the butterflies may indeed be ready, but the butterfly keeper may not. Papaw had already warned me the boy might have a hard time letting them go when the time came.)

So today, Gray and I were carefully placing a long stem of sugar-watered flowers into the butterfly house when one flew out into the kitchen and went straight to the window. “Oh, look, Gray!” I said, “That one is SO ready to be outside, don’t you think?!”

“No, Gigi. It’s suppose to rain today. Besides, I think it’s still too cold. Catch him! Hurry! Put him back in his house!” So, I carefully cupped the flighty little thing and placed him back in the cage.

“Gray, I’m kind of worried they might die if we don’t set them free.” His bottom lip quivered and confirmed Papaw’s hunch. I knew we were at one of those rite-of-passage milestones for little boys and I had to maneuver such unfamiliar waters very carefully. “Are you a little sad to let them go?”

“No. Well, yes, a little.” More quivering. His eyes looked up and to the right, followed by his whole head. I could tell the little man was trying to leave the room without getting off his chair.

“Yeah, I’m a little sad, too. You’ve taken such good care of them. I wonder what would happen if you came to see them tomorrow in their little house and they were dead. That would be pretty sad, too, don’t you think?”

“Yeah. So do you have a big box we could cut a hole in and put outside in case it rained or they got cold?”

“Oh, you mean like another house for them outside? I’m sure I do! Let’s go see.”

So we trotted out to the garage while I prayed there might be a box that hadn’t made it to the garbage yet. We found a quite smaller box than Gray had hoped for, but one perfectly suited for five tiny butterflies that I was pretty sure would never find need for it anyway. I dutifully cut along his lines for the igloo-shaped doorway, and wrote “Gray’s Butterflies” across the top, as he requested. For good measure, we cut a flap in the top of the box so he could “peek and see them when they went inside”.

Finally we made the long pilgrimage all the way from the kitchen to the front door. The tree exploding with white flowers outside the dining room window was just what our precious newbies needed, and we were actually excited to have discovered such a nearby habitat. But as soon as we unzipped the doorway, I could tell the dread had returned. “Should we say a prayer for them?” A quick nod and two little adorably clasped hands almost choked me beyond being able to offer up this plea for kindergarten size strength and comfort, which I was trying to hide between words of gratitude for these amazing creatures and their equally amazing little caretaker.

I think God listened, because when we finished our prayer and laid the long stem of flowers and butterflies gently on the lowest tree branch, he seemed more at peace with the idea. He did linger a long time repositioning the doorway side of the little cardboard house we made and bidding them happy flights after I had taken the last picture and gone into the house.

“Maybe we can order some more sometime. Would you like that?” I asked, roughing his hair, trying to shift the mood a little. No sooner did he say yes and I returned to my pre-butterfly release chores did he come running into the kitchen waving a piece of paper with bright blue numbers drawn all over it.

“Here you go!” he said smiling enthusiastically. “Here’s the phone number. Now we can get more butterflies!”

“Where on earth did you get that?!” It had been at least two months since we ordered them, requiring several weeks to ship. I was positive we didn’t keep the information. I was flabbergasted!

“I just turned on the TV, and the commercial came right on, so I hurried to copy down the numbers. ‘Now you, too, can own your own butterfly habitat!’” he repeated exactly like the convincing salesman.

“Very funny.” I told God. “Guess you heard a different prayer from the one I prayed, huh?” One a little more sincere, evidently… one straight from a little boy’s heart.

DISNEY

Hi! For those of you who have been asking about our trip to Disney… we survived! What an adventure to drag 12 people through 5 parks… 4 families, to be exact, and still have everyone speaking at the end! Actually, we had a great time. We planned on several meltdowns (children AND adults), and we were pleased that we predicted incorrectly… NO adults melted down! ha.

The kids were amazing little troopers! We began our journey with just “The Originals” (as the girls call us), and the guys joined us Thursday night late. We planned a special Princess outing just for the girls, and a special Pirate evening for Grayson. We had SO much fun dressing the girls up in their princess attire and enjoying fine dining whilst being visited tableside by each of the Disney princesses (except Cinderella; Her stepmother must have had too many chores for her to do.) Their eyes grew wider and wider with each Princess sighting (Ariel, Aurora, Belle, Snow White, and even Mary Poppins!) They were SO adorable, and it was truly a treat to see their precious little believing hearts. They were meeting the REAL princesses, straight out of the storybook!

The next night was Gray’s special night. The highlight of his outing was a choreographed lesson by Kareem, Hakeem, and Gus, top palace guards for Prince Aladdin. The boys learned a routine to music using their invisible swords that was sure to deem them victorious should Princess Jasmine ever need their protection! Shannah has the video of this, which you MUST see. It is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. Gray is so serious as he swishes left, swashes right, jumps, ducks, criss-crosses and finally returns his sword to its sheath, all in time to the music, while the speakers provide the swashbuckling sound effects for each move. Absolutely adorable… and no one was injured! Even MORE amazing! (Disney thinks of everything!)

We also spent a full day each at Seaworld and Typhoon Lagoon (Disney’s waterpark). The kids loved both of them. We spent a full day at Magic Kingdom and some of us split the rest of the time between Epcot and Hollywood Studios (formerly MGM), while some of us napped. The little ones are saving Animal Kingdom and Hollywood Studios (and much of Epcot) for the next trip. Just too much to see for one trip. Basically, we tried to think like they do and chose which attractions they would enjoy and remember most. We figured one highlight per day was even more stimulation than they could tolerate and we guessed just about right.

Each family got one evening and the entire day Sunday to themselves (in case anyone was overdosing on too much family). The Duncans chose a Downtown Disney shopping and dinner trip for their evening, while the Christies spent a quiet family evening at the hotel for Viève and the pregnant Mama to rest. Shan accompanied Papaw and Grayson to the Pirate Extravaganza and Gigi and Berkley played salon and spa in our hotel room, ordered pizza delivery and an in-room movie (The Chipmunks – ha). And yes, we ate pizza IN BED in our jammies with almost dry nails! (Memories!)

Sunday, we all started out to separate locations, but by lunchtime, we all managed to hook up in Epcot for the rest of the day… funny how that works!

I did have one lapse in Grandmother judgment while I had 3 of the girls by myself so the parents could ride some roller coasters. I promised Berkley and Savannah they could ride a kiddie roller coaster, but when we got to that area, Simone was still too little to ride, even if I rode with her, so in a weak moment, I let the girls ride alone. Yikes! The longer they waited in line, the more nervous I became… especially when I saw they weren’t completely primed yet on waiting in lines, following the guiding lines between bars, going all the way to the end of the platform to the “next number” railing and NOT stepping beyond the yellow lines too close to the returning cars. And as if that weren’t enough… I had forgotten that swinging and flipping on the crowd control bars was as much fun as the ride itself, even if the entire line passes you by and you get stuck having to wait another ENTIRE trip, when you were really NEXT in line!!! All because there was no way in the world two little giggly girls could hear Gigi shouting instructions over the roar of the ride! Hilarious! All I could do was take pictures and laugh hysterically, wondering if they’d EVER make it on. But somehow they did, and they LOVED it!

We all had a great time. No children were ever lost or injured (save a few scrapes or pinched fingers), however, someone stole Savannah’s special blankie Gigi made her and her Nalgene water bottle, along with a sweatshirt of La’s from the bottom of their stroller. That was a downer, but Gigi promised to make another.

Obviously, I can’t post all the pics, but I’ll show you a few highlights. We’ll share more in person sometime.

Love to all you fellow Mickey lovers from the Happiest Place on Earth… truly.

"I Think She's Delightful, Really."

I stopped in to my daughter's gift and stationery shoppe the other day to buy a couple birthday presents. As usual, when I arrived she was on the phone with a customer, and I could tell by her face the person on the other end was neither one of her favorites, nor in any hurry to end the conversation.

"Who was that?" I quizzed.

"This lady who gets on my nerves for some reason. She's a good customer and I try to be nice to her, but I always feel like she thinks she's in charge of me." We both laughed, having had several conversations about authority issues. "She's coming in today to pick up an order she asked for tomorrow, but thankfully, it's ready, so it's ok."

It took me a while to pick out the gifts I wanted, and while I was standing near the counter a small, black-haired woman came in and used my daughter's first name when she asked for her order. They both chatted like old friends while I brought my purchases to the counter.

The woman appeared a tad disheveled, yet there was a certain sense of propriety about her, as well. It was only an observation, since I was in work-out clothes, with no sense of propriety about me whatsoever.

She turned to me and began to share all manner of compliments about my daughter, her helpfulness and knowledge, and the shoppe in general. Her remarks seemed genuine, and naturally, I felt a sense of pride. After talking a few minutes I felt it appropriate to tell her this was my daughter, which led to more complimenting, which led to how many children did I have?... All girls?... Is she the oldest?... What do her sisters do?... And are they creative as well, etc, etc.

Not wanting the conversation to be one-sided, I asked her a few obvious questions which led to a cordial, brief bonding. Do you live around here?...Where is your lovely accent from?...Oh, really! One of our daughters spent several months there and loved it, etc, etc.

Before I knew it, my purchases were beautifully wrapped, and I kissed and thanked my little shoppe owner and bid the woman goodbye. A few miles down the road my phone rang and my daughter began the conversation with, "That was her! That was the woman I was on the phone with!"

"You're kidding. I would have never guessed. I thought she was delightful, really."

"Well, yeah, I guess she was, but it was different this time. And get this... after you left she proceeded to offer me her vacation place for a week whenever she's not using it. She also invited me and the kids to her granddaughter's bat mitzva. I doubt I'll take her up on any of it, but it turned out to be a good conversation about different religious traditions. I bet she stayed talking to me for a good 15 minutes!"

After a few days had gone by, I still found myself thinking about the encounter and I wondered if my daughter ever thought about seeing challenging customers as opportunities for ministry. Not in the evangelistic sense, but whether it would make any difference when customers rubbed her the wrong way. Could she find anything in them that was delightful, as our Heavenly Father does?

Admittedly, I'm not the one who has to deal with a random customer who becomes irate because she can't redeem an old gift certificate from the store next door that has been out of business over a year. Nor am I the one whose children's meals depend on happy, returning customers. Afterall, my closest experience to working retail was a four-day stint as a waitress, so believe me, there's no judgment here.

But I did think about a few women I've met throughout my own life who rubbed me the wrong way, too. Some that seemed pushy or too forward or fake or self-righteous. Did I see those encounters as opportunities for ministry? Would that have made a difference in my attitude? Could I possibly see something in them that was delightful? I was reminded once again to keep lessons I was still learning to myself. And I was humbly grateful that God somehow delights in me, when I know full well I am not always delightful. Moreover, I'm sure I will have more chances to practice finding the good in difficult people. A favorite saying of mine says it best:

"There is so much good in the worst of us, and so much bad in the best of us,

that it behoves any of us to talk about the rest of us."

That said, if you're ever in our area and need a gift or some great stationery, stop in any occasion, inc., and say hi to my daughter, the owner. I think she's delightful, really.

Here's to Hope!

The year 2008 has already proven to be one that will mess with my head. Swell!

Last year, 2007, I set a goal to Restore the Temple (me!), which included the experiences of walking a 1/2 marathon, writing and teaching a Bible Study, and speaking at 2 National Women's Conferences in India and Sri Lanka. Each of these were dreams of mine, and God was so good to allow me those opportunities. But how quickly things can change! By the beginning of 2008, and in these months following, it seems the Temple has once again fallen into disrepair. Oh, the agony of defeat!


After two months recovering from an ankle sprain, a couple of heart-wrenching family crises, and several weeks of a mysterious illness I contracted while speaking in Curacao, I am left depressed and bewildered. My body, His Temple, is in worse shape one year after resolving to restore it than when I made the resolution! I am all about tenacity and not giving up (afterall, that was one of the lessons I learned while training for the marathon), but why all the setbacks now? Haven't I been through enough? Haven't the last five years been the anguish that led to the Temple needing to be restored in the first place?


All of this depression and bewilderment is compounded by the realization that I have neglected my journaling and writing during these past six months as well. Moving forward in any area seems daunting and overwhelming.


But I am determined to somehow follow through with my goal, even if it becomes a multi-year effort. The truth is this idea of marathon living and Temple restoration won't be complete until this life is over. Why, then, do I always think I can conquer such tasks and be done with them once and for all? Somewhere, there is an expectation that life is suppose to be all about enjoyment and carefree living... and looking good while doing it, of course!


I can't entirely blame society, or our culture, or even the media for this. I must take a frequent assessment of where I am on my journey compared to where I want to be. I'm not talking about my spiritual journey. While I am responsible for my part of the relationship, it is the Holy Spirit that makes changes and heals and grows me. (And He is more patient than I am!) Rather, I am talking about areas of my physical existence that affect my spiritual life. Things I know I need to improve. Areas of discipline I cannot give up on, lest I become slothful and uncaring toward myself. Anyone who has experienced the depression or bewilderment I'm describing knows how difficult it is to jump back in to the race when you feel it's no use anyway.


I am reminded David also often felt this way. And if he was a man after God's own heart, surely I can learn from his example. One of the Psalms David writes relying on the trust He has developed throughout his life is Psalm 71. Even during times when it seemed God was not around, David knew he could trust God.

 But as for me, I will always have hope;
I will praise you more and more.
15 My mouth will tell of your righteousness,
of your salvation all day long,
though I know not its measure.
16 I will come and proclaim your mighty acts, O Sovereign Lord;
I will proclaim your righteousness, yours alone.
17 Since my youth, O God, you have taught me,
and to this day I declare your marvelous deeds.
18 Even when I am old and gray,
do not forsake me, O God,
till I declare your power to the next generation,
your might to all who are to come.
The Holy Bible : New International Version. 1996, c1984 . Zondervan: Grand Rapids

Here's to jumping back into the race. Here's to Hope!