My pity party

Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.   Isaiah 40:30-31 (NIV)


As I am sure many can relate to, the busiest part of the weekday is before 8:00 a.m. and after 4:00 p.m.  I know that I'm not any busier than anyone else, and we all have things we could cut out...but we don't, we just keep on keeping on...and I do realize this is going to become my normal...as my kids get older.

We've had musical practices the past few weeks running three hours every night until 9:30 or 10 or 10:30.  Thankfully, there were three of us who took turns carpooling the kids so that we could get some relief with the constant back and forth.  I know I really appreciated the late-night pick up by the ladies when Jay was working nights...that way I didn't have to keep Lane up passed his bedtime to go retrieve the kids.

The musical performance was this past weekend and I am so relieved it's over with, along with everyone else, I am sure.  It was also Spring Convocation for our denomination, which means that the high school and college age kids go to the hosting church for the weekend.  Thankfully, a local church south of Casey was the host and I didn't have to drive super far to make the drop off.

So Friday night I made the rounds picking up the musical kids and a youth to take to Convo later on.  I took them all to town, dropped off the musical kids and headed south to the hosting church for Convo.  We made it there and then Lane and I left for Robinson.  Jay was working nights this past weekend, and I had decided I really wanted to go to Robinson to the Maurices and return a shirt I bought and see if they had anything else, and ice cream was sounding really good...so off we went.  By the time I got home, I had driven about 100 miles since I left work.  Crazy.  (The Robinson thing was totally on me though:)

Saturday morning, I got up and went to Terre Haute to meet friends for breakfast.  Hurried back to meet cousins for lunch at Moonshine.  Came home for about two hours, left to take Jay to town to retrieve his truck.  Back home for a bit and back to town for the musical.  After the musical, Lane begged to stay at his grandma's in town, so we dropped him off there.  Madolyn and a friend were spending the night at another friend's house and they both needed clothes...sooo, we drove north of town to get clothes and then drove south of town to our house to get Mad's clothes and then onto the sleepover locale.

So after about 36 hours of almost constant driving, I made the last stop for the night, just about 10:00 p.m.  I was so ready to come unglued as those girls climbed out of the car.  It wasn't anything they had done or anyone in particular, I was just fried, spent, pooped, tired of driving and rushing.  I just wanted to go to bed and read on my Nook.  I just wanted to be out of the car for longer than like 2 or 3 hours.  I just wanted to quit driving here and there and needing to be somewhere at a certain time.

And that's when the father stepped outside and thanked me for hauling his child around the past couple weeks, as a few of us had been helping out in bringing this one home after practices.  He then went onto say that he has a pinched sciatic nerve and a herniated disk in his back, he's off work, without pay, and is going to be having surgery.  I was quickly humbled.

As I pulled away, I felt like a heel.  I was wanting to scream and shout and throw a tantrum because I felt like I had spent my entire day-and-a-half running for everyone else...and I was going home to crawl in a nice, warm, cozy bed, without any pain whatsoever.  I was going to sleep, most likely all night, without taking pain medicines or having discomfort.  Yes, I had been running like a mad woman, but my husband was at work, without pain, and with pay.  In an instant, God put me right back in my place.  I had only things to be thankful for...not to whine about...which I am quick to do.  I did go home, crawl in bed and read my Nook.  I am a lucky girl.  But don't even ask me about Sunday...

the Snapper

The other day I was taking my walk over my lunch hour and I passed the house of an elderly man.  He was mowing his yard (yes, it is March and we have started mowing).  I remembered this house and the little old man from last year and knew what kind of mower he had before I even saw it...he was cruising along on a Snapper just like my grandparents (paternal) had way back when.

And they didn't just have one Snapper lawnmower, oh no, they had two.  The new one and the old one.  Grandma rode the new one and Grandpa rode the old one.  It was a hoot to see them both on their little mowers going up and down the yard, passing one another, getting the job done in half the time.  The old one bucked as you let off the foot pedal, and it was hilarious.  When us grandkids were old enough, we fought over who got to ride the good Snapper, although it was really funny to buck that old one.

I didn't know anyone else who had a funny-looking lawnmower like my grandparents...although Grandpa tried to buy the best of something when he could afford it.  I suppose at one time those were the best lawnmowers.  They did seem to last a while.  I was delighted to see that older fella out on his Snapper mowing his yard the other day.  I loved the smell and the memories that trickled into my mind.  Good times...

He's so smart and precious

That's just about all you can say about Hank the Tank II, our little precious eight-month old puppy.  You might think he's just a booming beaming idiot sometimes, but he's not, he's a genius.  We've had several dogs, as you know, and it is so funny how all of them have a little bit different personality than the last.  Each of them has a unique quality.  Even Hank II is different than Hank I...and they have the exact same set of parents.



My, what big teeth you have!

 Last night when I got home from work, Lane and the precious were having fun with the water hose.  It's mid-March, it's the natural thing to do when it's 86 degrees outside...in the Midwest...oh goodness.  Lane was giggling hysterically (there is no greater sound) at Hank and his silliness.  You know that Labradors love, love, love water.  And we have a pond in our backyard, but what Hank really loves is the hose!  He was completely soaked and here's why (see photos:) 

Sucker!

He could not get enough.  Lane was blasting the heck out of him and he just kept going back for more.  Lane would even adjust the flow of the water from stream to spray.  On spray, Hank would get all confused and try to get all the separate flows of water.  He is just so stupid silly....but we love the Precious!!  (Yes, that is a power washer, and I am not sure that no one sprayed him with it because that might be cruel.)





The wall

 Another activity our little genius enjoys, which is totally beyond all comprehension, is chewing on a wall.  I don't mean the corner of a wall that sticks out, just teasing someone to gnaw on it.  I'm talking a flat, vertical wall, with no bumps and edges.  During the day when we're gone and Hank is hanging out in the garage, apparently he gets bored and decides to chew on whatever is handy...and that would be the wall of our garage.  I'm not sure I even understand how one would position their mouth to begin chewing on it...what exactly are you grabbing onto?  But see, because he is so dang smart, our Hank can do it...he can do anything.

I was trying to sleep

And just look at him, his favorite spot is on our couch...isn't that special?  I finally get new furniture a few years ago and Hank has taken it over.  I tried to keep it covered with a sheet, but he somehow gets it shoved to the side...again, because he is so smart.  (You can tell by the look on his face, he is super annoyed by the camera and the flash.  I'm disturbing him.)   I know, who is the boss in this family anyway?

Just this week, he slept outside two nights for the first time ever.  The first night was over the weekend and we were in Indy.  Mom said she could hear him barking.  I bet he was barking at the door trying to get someone to let him in.  He couldn't figure it out, where was he supposed to sleep?  There is no couch outside.  Last night he stayed outside because he was still soaking wet from the water festivities.  We heard him whimpering for a bit, and although I honestly figured I would have to cave and let him in, he shut up and stayed outside and lived through it...again.  Poor guy.

Of course, we think all our dogs are the best dogs ever (well, minus Bificus, he was an idiot).  They can do things that no other dog can do.  They are more precious than any other dog and they are, oh, so special...even when they chew a hole in the carpet, gnaw on a wall, take over the couch, chew through the computer cord, mangle a broom, eat the heel of my favorite brown pumps, crave grapes (which are poisonous to dogs), destroy my brand new bicycle seat...

Margaret

I told you about my grandpa Scottie, and now I want to share a little about Margaret, my maternal grandma.  Grandma Lynch, as we called her, was not your average grandma.  When I think about the fact that she was a P.E. teacher, I crack up.  She didn't look like a P.E. teacher to me...she was my grandma.  At times I have to laugh because I envision Coach Sue on Glee...although I know my grandma was really nothing like her...but I would've loved to have seen her in a sweatsuit.  She also taught English, which fit her style a little better, at least in my mind. 

I don't remember my Grandma Lynch being an exceptional cook, but she always had these iced oatmeal cookies in a cookie jar on her counter and I learned to love them.  I always got Cheerios (the real brand) and bananas for breakfast at her house.  And besides the oatmeal cookies and Cheerios, you could always count on there being Jello with fruit in it at supper time.  I have never seen two people eat so much Jello and fruit as my grandparents.  It's not that I don't like it, they just ate it a LOT.  Whenever mom or I would ask them what they needed from the grocery store (when they moved up here) they would say "Jello."  It would just crack us up.  There could be five boxes of Jello in their pantry, but they would always add it to their grocery list.

My grandma could knit just about anything and everything you could imagine.  I am sure I under-appreciated that when I was younger, and of course, wish I had paid a little more attention to it now.  I can knit, or at least I used to be able to, although a scarf would be about all I could handle, I'm sure, and that would be after some serious practice.  I loved messing around with her knitting needles and the skeins of yarn.  Her knitting bag went everywhere she did.

I was in my teens when my grandparents fully retired and moved to Texas.  First they would only go during the winter and then they gradually became full-fledged Texans.  I'm trying to remember, as I write this, how many times I went to Texas to see them and I can come up with three.  Seems like there was one more, but I'm not so sure.  It was a very long trip down there...23 hours in a car...so it wasn't something you could just pick up and do on short notice.  Jay and I drove it once with my cousin Mikki in tow...it was a long ride! 

Their house was in the Sunshine Country Club Estates in Harlingen, TX.  Their address was 9G Minnesota, if I'm not mistaken.  They had a golf course, swimming pool, tennis courts, shuffle board, a club house, etc.  It was everything they had wanted.  My grandma attended (and may have even led) some swimming aerobic classes there on site, she volunteered at the hospital and she taught English to Spanish-speaking children at a local school. 

My grandparents were both very active in their church and little community down in south Texas.  They took trips into Mexico and would come up to Illinois to visit their three daughters and their families.  They were healthy, active, had planned all their life (financially and otherwise) for their retirement and they were living their dream (I would guess).

One day after playing golf, my grandma walked in their house and fell to the floor.  She had a stroke right there in her living room in front of my grandpa.  Knowing how much they loved each other, I can only imagine how awful that was for my grandpa.  My grandma had suffered a stroke and thankfully had very little brain damage, she hadn't lost her ability to think, but she had lost her ability to move the right half of her body.  She was wheelchair-ridden from that point on.  It is amazing to think that one moment you can be playing golf and then next moment you are paralyzed.  I know there are worse things, but it has to be a heartbreaker, losing all you had prepared for basically in one single moment.   Unfortunately, things like that seem to happen all around us.

You know that there is always something good that comes out of the crummy stuff.  For me, my grandma having that stroke made me closer to her.  They ended up having a house built and moving to little ole Martinsville where they would be closer.  Like I said, my grandma's mind was okay, she was a little slower with some things, she had to work with her speech and she sure was quieter after that, but she was still here and still present, if you know what I mean. 

I grew much closer to both my grandparents over the few years they lived here...some of the memories weren't super great ones, but I treasure them nonetheless.  I grew to appreciate their lives more and the love they shared for one another.  After Grandma's stroke, they no longer shared a bedroom.  So each night they would depart and go to their separate bedrooms.  Every morning, they had the same routine, one would say to the other "Morning, Star." To which the other would respond, "Morning, Glory."  (I may not have that exactly right, but it was something similar.)  They no longer were afforded any privacy whatsoever, so that may have been one of their little codes, you know, other than just a simple, "I love you."

Eventually the burden of their care was just too much and both my grandparents went into the local nursing home.  They shared a room so they were still together, and they were together until the end.  My grandma passed away first and later Grandpa went on to join her.  I may not have been as close to them growing up because of geography, but I became close to them in the end and I'm so grateful, as awful as it may sound because of the circumstances, that they had to move up here....or I may not have shared those times with them. 

So be different.

Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it.  But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it.    Matthew 7:13-14 (NIV)


A while back I had my daughter and some other girls in the car with us.  The other girls were a year or two older than Madolyn...they are in the junior high...which is a big deal to Madolyn who is still at the grade school.  They were carrying on being silly like girls are, and as I got back in the car, I heard one of them say, "Everyone in Junior High cusses and I mean everyone."  To which I said, "So be different."  And I know they probably rolled their eyes and made faces at me because I just don't understand and they just didn't want a lecture...

But I remember how it was.  I remember how cool I thought it sounded to cuss and use words I would not want my parents to hear.  It is so different now that we're old and are parents, but Jay and I will go to a movie and if there is a lot of swearing, we will comment on how it actually hurts our ears.  Literally.  I can barely stomach listening to someone with a filthy mouth...and I used to have one of my own when I was in high school.

I am not saying I do not let one slip every now and then...and there are times when I say one purposely...I can't even blame it on smashing my finger with a hammer...but to just rattle them off as part of my every-day vocabulary, uh-uh...no way.  And it is sooo hard to be around it all the time and not fall into the trap.  I think a lot of people hear it so much, it just becomes second-nature.  I can only imagine how bad it is, say, on a construction site.  Not to be picking on the construction trade, but you know that those fellas out there can be pretty raunchy!  I've asked Jay before how it is where he works...and though he's no saint either (sorry, pal) he said it is tough sometimes because you hear so much of it.

I know that my daughter will probably go through a phase where she believes it is cool to cuss just like everyone around her, but I will encourage her to be different, to be the weird one.  We often tell our youth group, be the one that chooses NOT to go along because there are probably five kids waiting to follow someone the other direction if only they are led.  Many, many people are not bold enough to make those tough choices on their own, but if they have someone to follow...now, that's better, then they're not alone. 

I can tell you I have been many places where I have made the choice to be different.  Maybe not all the time, but a lot of the time.  Maybe good different, some bad different.  I knew others were making comments and judgments about me, but that's okay.  Who wants to be like everyone else anyway, right?  I know I'm weird.  I am okay with being different.  Different is what sets you apart...and why not choose the narrow path...we know where it's going.

Here's Frankie...

Nightly routine

Thought I would share a few pictures of our latest addition, Frankie the Hamster.  Of course, I know that after publishing the post, she will either die or be MIA. 

Frankie's nightly routine consists of chewing on these metal bars.  She is a persistent thing, and I suppose that in about five years, she may actually chew through these metal bars...of course, a hamster's average life span is two years, and we're not sure how old she is, factor in she lives at our house...you do the math.

I have, of course, given her a nickname, which is, drum roll please, Andy Dufresne.  Who is Andy Dufresne (pronounced Dew-frain) you ask?  He was the main character in the great movie, The Shawshank Redemption.  He had caught his wife with another man and killed the man, was then sent to prison.  He ends up using these tiny rock tools to slowly and deliberately dig through his cell wall and escape to freedom. 

One night as I passed Frankie gnawing away at her prison bars, I thought of Andy Dufresne and told Jay that was her new nickname.  She is sooo persistent and diligent about her nightly gnawing.  The real kicker is that the lid to her cage is loosely fastened.  So loose that just this past week, she somehow got the right position and used her feet to pop the bottom off.  Fortunately, we saw and heard it and caught her before she too escaped into freedom like Andy.

the hood to my jacket

You know a couple of weeks ago I mentioned the hood of my favorite spring jacket and how Frankie had chewed the hood up.  (See photo at right.)  What a stinker.  I did successfully remove the hood from the jacket and can wear it without it being obvious that it once had a hood.  Look closely at the far right corner at the top, she even chewed the tip of the hood off.  What a little rat...literally.  The pattern shows that maybe she was trying to cut out some of the fabric...maybe she just wanted some extra padding for her little cave.  She could've just asked, I would've given her something.

Frankie goes to church

I have this cute sparkly church that came from Accents (awesome store in downtown Martinsville).  I like to sit it out during Christmas and the winter months.  The kids thought Frankie would like some religion, so she got to explore church for a while.  I have several pictures of her trying to climb out the windows, the doors and even the steeple area.  Church makes some folks uncomfortable...apparently it makes hamsters and rodents uncomfortable too.  Even the little snowman is surrendering.  Everytime I pass her cage and see her little eyes bugging out, all I can think of is, "My, what big eyes you have!"




Frankie meets Hankie

 There have been a few encounters between Frankie and Hankie, the precious, and so far they are both still living.  Hankie doesn't seem too bothered by Frankie...unless one of us is paying more attention to Frankie than Hankie.  I have stressed to the kids the fact that Hankie could gobble up Frankie in a matter of seconds without us even knowing it, so it is VERY important that Frankie and Hankie not be out and about at the same time.  Fortunately, Hankie cannot get Frankie's exercise ball in his mouth...not that he hasn't tried.  I would guess it almost gives little Frankie a heart attack.

Frankie has been a lot of fun for the kids and myself.  There's nothing we won't try with the little gal.  Lane had her riding around on his 4x4 and all she wanted to do was escape.  This little truck has a horse trailer with it and she wouldn't stay in it either.  Again, the reoccurring theme: freedom.  We're starting to get a complex.

That's gonna leave a mark...

It's probably been about 18 months ago that we were really starting to get into the horse thing.  We started spending a lot of time at our fairgrounds which is where we keep our race horse(s).  Seems like every waking hour was spent up there.  If I wanted to see my kids or my husband, that is where I went after work.  They were always busy cleaning stalls or working the horses or whatever. 

Lane was totally ate up with all of this right from the start.  I have some of the cutest pictures of him on my phone (which I have no idea how to get off of there) where he is taking a break after cleaning stalls in the hot summer heat and his little face is bright red.  At times he was all serious about it, other times he just wanted to play hide and seek with the other kids.

One day when boredom struck, our little horseman got a horse reign with the leather strap on it and rubbed it continuously over his forehead, back and forth, back and forth like a mad man, real fast he told me (sometimes I have to wonder about him, it must be his father).  By the time I saw him, he had a very irritated red circle on his forehead, which quickly turned into a large nasty scab. 

When asked why he had decided to do this, he said, "I just wanted to see if it would leave a mark."  Allrighty then, it was an experiment...another life lesson...Do not rub a horse reign across your forehead continuously, it will leave a mark.  Good to know.

The mighty one

Last week as I was talking with my aunt and mom, this story popped up.  I couldn't remember if I had written about it before so if it's a repeat story, sorry.  This is another tale of the Sole Survivor, Meepie, our cat who will turn 14 in April if he lives another few weeks...and that is always a gamble at our house.

A couple years ago after I started working here at the courthouse, there was a stray Tom cat hanging around our place.  Meepie and Tom went a few rounds a couple nights and we haven't seen him since.  Two nights during a ten-day period, they decided to hold their own Feline UFC (Ultimate Fighting Championship) series in our garage...on top of my white SUV.

The first night, we heard a ruckus going on in the garage and figured that the Meepie was behind it, but weren't overly concerned about it and knew it could wait until morning.  So the next morning, I let Meep in, and although he did look a little haggered, he seemed okay and I didn't think anymore about it...until I got ready to get in my car and go to work.  And if you haven't figured out by now, I'm usually running about five minutes late to just about everywhere...so I had no time to, say, wash a car.

As soon as I get close to my car, I can smell that cat pee smell, which is just lovely (and disgusting) and then as I open the door, I notice a drop of blood.  I put my stuff in the car and explore.  There, on the top of my car in between the luggage rails, is what appears to be a crime scene, with plenty of evidence left behind: blood, urine and feces.  No joke.  The cats had battled it out right there on top of my car, which would be the obvious location, of course.  And one or both of them had either had the poo scared out of them or was too injured to hop down to use the potty outside.  It was disgusting.

Again, I had zero time to waste, so I decided that the poo would fly off as I drove down the road and all would be well by the time I got to work 18 miles away (because what exactly should I do here, call the judge and explain the situation?)...except that when I got out of my car in the courthouse parking lot, the smell was overwhelming and now there were streaks of blood and urine running down the sides of my pearl white SUV.  L-o-v-e-l-y is what that is.  Still rushing to get up to my office, I pretended like I didn't notice and carried on.   I can't help but wonder if the judge, who parks on the left, or the county clerk, who parks on the right, noticed when they got out of their cars.  Maybe they didn't.   I mean, hey, doesn't everyone drive around with blood, urine and feces on their car every now and then?

the stinky

If you haven't caught on, everyone in our family has a nickname.  Madolyn is slowly growing out of her's...although sometimes it still fits...she was always "the Stinky."  When she was real little, it was hilarious to yell out "Stinky" in a crowd and see the expressions on people's faces...and then see Madolyn bounce on up to us.  Yes, there she is, ladies and gentlemen, our little Stinky.

This girl is a feisty one.  Always has been.  I'm starting to think she acts a little like her mom great grandma.  The stubbornness, the independence, the strong will...yes, I see a connection there.  I keep telling myself that I know I did not act like that ever more than a couple times here and there.

Watching her play volleyball this past year was the kicker.  While I was coming out of my seat, hanging on every bump, set or spike of the ball, Jay spent his time watching our daughter...whether she was on the bench or on the court, he watched her.  He would just crack up and elbow me, "Sarah, watch her, she is hilarious."  So I would and then I would realize it was like watching a video of myself.  She would do this little golf clap and grin when something good would happen.  She would stomp her feet and yell words of encouragement when something went south.  She would put her hands up to her face and give that "look" when she goofed.  And the big one...she kicks a leg up when she hits the ball sometimes.  Holy cow.  I cannot deny her.

We are now beginning those really tricky years, I know...the past 11 have just been a teaser, a little preview of the future.  Those first 11 were there to try to prepare us for the next seven.  I remind myself of that all the time when I think I want to...just scream.

Although we are alike in so many ways, we have several differences.  She has the most beautiful voice, I wish she felt more confident about using it though.  I really love to hear her sing.  Jay will play the Taylor Swift CD in the car 800 times just to hear her sing.  I will tell him, "Come on, not again," and he will whisper, "I want to hear the Stinky sing."  I guess I take it for granted because I hear it every single day, the same CD over and over whenever we're in the car.

Her fashion sense is unique.  Maybe mine was too.  We can walk to the same storefront display and I'll think to myself that is THE UGLIEST thing I have ever seen, and at that very moment, she will squeal and tell me how beautiful it is.  I suppose this is a good thing...she won't be asking to wear my clothes.

The girl loves jewelry and cannot seem to have enough.  Makes my head spin.  Thankfully, she is not into expensive stuff yet....it's just a constant struggle to find whatever piece she's looking for, to untangle it or dig it out of the washing machine.  I have earrings all over my car in every crevice.  Watch your feet :)

Her room is a total disaster.  I know that mine was never always like that too.  I try really hard not to harp on that because mine was horrible.  But this is the girl that used to clean and organize people's houses when we were visiting.  One time we were over at a lady's house and she started cleaning, she came and asked me (in front of the lady) about a dust rag because it was so dusty.  Oh goodness.  My mom and grandma used to call and ask to talk to Madolyn because she had been at their house and 'cleaned' and now they couldn't find something.  She was a little OCD but I think she has let that pass...too bad, it could've come in handy around our house!

I know that we are going to go around and around in the next few years, and there will be times I just want to scream (or worse), but I must remember that I probably acted just like her (maybe not that bad:)...and she'll always be our little Stinky. 

I just read a devotional last week from Proverbs 31 about a mother with a similar-sounding daughter and she seems to have turned out okay!  Her suggestion was to pray for your daughter to become the woman that God wants her to be, not what you want her to be.  Okay, God, have at it.  Help me not to interfere with the plans you have for my little Stinky!

Grandma

Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.  2 Corinthians 4:16-17 (NIV)

So it turns out that upon further exploration, my Grandma not only has two broken ribs and a broken pelvis, she also has a broken shoulder blade.  Her left lung deflated and there was blood (approximately 2.5 liters as a matter of fact) in and around the lung where it should not be.  That is like a 2-liter bottle of pop, and then some.  I'm not even sure how to comprehend that.

I am writing this on Wednesday (March 14).  Later today she will undergo a surgical procedure to drain the lungs.  They will leave a drain tube in until everything is out of there and they are connecting a tube which will administer pain medication directly into her lung to allow her to breathe without lots of pain.  Ugh, my heart breaks for her and the pain she must be in just trying to breathe, let alone all her broken bones!

At her age, 93.5, a surgery of any kind is risky.  Last year when she was in the hospital with the bizarre twisting of the esophagus and stomach, the surgery to remove and untwist those organs was risky...but there was no choice.  The other option was watching her starve to death basically.  She managed through it.  Again, with this current situation, the other option is waiting for her to develop pneumonia and then watch the outcome, which we all know would not be good. 

So in these next few hours before this surgery, I am in constant prayer for my grandma.  I love her dearly and, of course, cannot imagine her not being here with us.  But I am well aware that life on earth is temporary and that wanting her to remain here and suffer is nothing to ask for.  I believe in quality over quantity.  She's already achieved quantity.  I can only imagine living until I'm 93 years of age.  In fact, sometimes I'm not sure I'll want to.

Last night when I told my kids about grandma's condition, Madolyn was very concerned about not seeing her again.  Of course, that is always a possibility.  But it is with anyone, any day.  We just have to make sure that we take every opportunity with our loved ones.  I know that we all have regrets from the past, and for sure how I handle things now is different than what I would've done just a few years ago.  I can't change those things.  I hope to update this later and say that, once again, Grandma came through without a hitch...but either way, I have been so blessed.

**Update** She made it through the surgery yesterday which is only half the battle.  There were no big incisions, just two little peep holes that they kept open for the two tubes.  The broken ribs had punctured the lung, but it is inflated and air is flowing through with the help of a ventilator right now.  As of this morning (Thursday, March 15) she was doing well, about mid-day there was some concern with her heart.  I went over and sat with her for a while and am so thankful that I was able to.  Her hair is a mess, she is without lipstick but there is plenty of color (purple/blue) on her poor frail body...(she's never been one to wear purple.)  As usual, her nurse was amazed at her.  We are too.  We know it's not over as anything can happen (and she is a believer, thank God), but we appreciate your prayers.

**Another update** It is now Monday (March 19) and she is still plugging along.  Yesterday, she was still hooked up to the ventilator because of some fluid in her lungs.  They didn't want to take it out prematurely and have to re-intubate.  I can understand that.  I'm telling you, when that tube comes out, if her throat isn't too sore, she's going to give someone an earful.  She has been unable to speak since last Wednesday afternoon...this may be an all-time record.  (Ha, mom just messaged me that the tube came out today and she has already asked for her wedding band.) 

Madolyn, Lane & Jay saw her this weekend and all agree she was better yesterday than she was on Saturday.  I was glad that Madolyn was able to see her.  She was shocked at how she looked, which I had tried to prepare her for, but she was not leery about going back the very next day to see her again.  I took that as a good sign.

Each time I leave her side, I am amazed that she is better than the last time I saw her.  I know that anything could happen; she has 93-year-old organs in her frail black-n-blue body.  On her best day, something could go south in an instant.  Last Thursday when they had called to say her heart was doing some funky things, I left work to go sit with her.  I had prepared this little speech about how it was okay for her to go see Grandpa, we knew she was tough, we didn't need her to prove anything to us, all of us would be okay.  Although she was unable to speak and highly medicated, she threw her head side-to-side back-and-forth telling me NO.  Typical, even with tubes in her throat, she is telling me how it's going to be.

The Skit Guys

A few years ago when we started our youth group at the church, we got hooked on the Skit Guy videos.  The Skit Guys are just two ordinary buddies who decided to start doing videos with devotionals and it seems to have worked out well for them.  I think our group owns all six videos they have put out in the recent years.  Some of them are so deep I don't get them, some of them are hysterical and you can't help but crack up, there are several that are very serious with a really good message.

One of our group favorites is called "Never Runners."  It is hilarious and silly...but there is a point to it in the end, although it's one of those that is a little deep.  We have watched it several times though because the kids just crack up.  Seems as though the adults of the group enjoy the videos that are spoofs on actual tv shows or companies, such as "To Catch a Doubledipper" is a spoof on the Dateline shows about catching sexual predators.  "NeedHarmony" is a spoof on the online dating service, "E-Harmony."  They are just funny...again, they all link up with a devotional and biblical references.  "The Chisel Remastered" is very, very good too, not funny though.

You can go to their website www.skitguys.com and watch the videos for free.  The new Easter one is excellent, very moving.  Our kids seems to do best when there is a video, short as it may be, to watch.  And it helps when they are funny.  There are videos on there that are for churches too.  The ones where the couple comes to the door of their "sinful" neighbor to witness are hilarious...and sadly, probably true!

If you have some time to kill, check out their website and watch a couple videos.  If you have a youth group or even want to use them in a Sunday School Class, go for it.  If you're close to me and would like to borrow some, just ask.

Decisions, decisions

And what other nation is so great as to have such righteous decrees and laws as this body of laws I am setting before you today?  Only be careful, and watch yourselves closely so that you do not forget the things your eyes have seen or let them fade from your heart as long as you live. Teach them to your children and to their children after them. Deut 4:8-9 (NIV)


I am scared for the next generation and their inability to make decisions.  I am a little nervous about my future ability to make my own decisions.  I don't mean to be a Debbie Downer or a naysayer or whatever, and I don't often jump on political bandwagons or this-is-the-end-of-the-world-campaigns, but two things worry me: a) personal decisions are being taken away from us, and b) as a result, our children aren't being taught how to make decisions.

You know how you hear all kinds of things about new laws coming down the pike or about how soon you won't be able to do this or that.  A while back, my daughter told me she had heard (you know how that goes) that in a couple years cars will not have radios in them because they will be too much of a distraction.  Oh good grief.  Now, I have no idea where she heard this or if it has any truth to it whatsoever, but it got me thinking...are we really going in that direction?  Where a person will not have the personal choice to decide whether or not a radio in the car is too distracting?

This is where parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, teachers, preachers, youth leaders, 4H leaders, coaches and other role models come in.  I know as a parent, it is MY duty to teach my kids all sorts of things that they will need to be able to lead independent, productive lives.  One factor in those teachings is the Bible and Christ, of course, but there are lots and lots of other subjects that we need to share with our children and teach our children about because a) someone else will or b) they won't learn about it at all. 

I have never been one of those over-the-top-super-protective parents.  I admit it.  If my son or daughter is doing something semi-dangerous and I see it, sure, I tell them to stop...but if they don't stop and I can see that something is going to happen, most of the time (unless it is super serious) I let them continue on because the inevitable is going to happen and maybe, just maybe, they will learn not to do that again because, gee, my mom isn't such an idiot and that hurt.  It's kinda like touching the hot stove once and getting burnt, you are not as likely to go back and play around the fire-hot stove now, are you?

We call them life lessons at our house. Jay and I believe that one of the most important jobs in raising our kids is to teach them how to make decisions (hopefully good ones); to accept the consequences of the bad decisions and also reap the benefits of the good ones.   Our children need to be able to make good, solid decisions in life because they are going to be out there soon enough trying to muddle through life in whatever condition the world is in at the time. 

I realize that I'm a control-freak.  That is my personality.  I like to plan and know what's going on and what's going to happen.  But I realize that I have to let go of some of that control so that my kids can grow and learn.  My hope is that they'll learn valuable lessons from the mistakes they're likely to make.  They won't be pretty and I will have to remember that when the time comes, but if I don't let them make their own decisions when it's reasonable, they will never learn.

But the government telling me that I am not capable of listening to a radio in my car as I drive down the road?  What next?  I have to be responsible and wise enough to say, okay, this radio is distracting me as I drive, I will turn it off or turn it down, etc.  I know when I get in a super tense driving situation, whether it be ice, fog or a hard rain, I will turn off the radio so I can give 100% of my attention to the road.  (Somehow, I have learned to do that.)  They've got the laws for new drivers so strict, I'm not sure how they keep them all straight. There is no telling what laws for new drivers will be like when Madolyn is 16, just four short years away.

Check out the recent changes in the Child Labor Law sometime.  Holy smokes, one of these days we'll be paying our own children to do nothing around the house because asking them to do work for the household's benefit would be a violation of their rights.  I know there are children working under unacceptable conditions all over the world, and even in this country, but honestly, how far will this go?

I am sorry this is sounding like a political rant because I'm really not a political person.  I just worry about the future for our children and their children if we are not teaching them to make good decisions and to take responsibility for themselves and their actions, and I also don't want to see the day come where we aren't allowed to make our own decisions.  And hey, I like to sing like a rockstar in the car, but I need a little music to back me up...if I don't have a radio in the car, what am I going to do as I barrell down the road?  Paint my nails and proofread transcripts...oh, yeah, I've done that before too.  I would suggest they outlaw that before the radio.

Laundry soap

Oh, goodness...what is this world coming to?  I just saw a news article online that there has been a rash of Tide thefts.  And yes, I mean Tide as in the laundry detergent.  There was a guy in Minnesota who had stolen $15,000 worth of Tide in the last couple of years.  This article reported that they are actually forming a task force to investigate this.  (I know you can't believe everything you read online, but if this is even slightly true, Heaven help us.)

There was no explanation on this particular news article as to why people are stealing laundry detergent, but they assume it's to turn around and sell on the black market.  I suppose the economic situation could be a contributing factor.  It is some pretty expensive stuff, I must admit.  It has a fairly good reputation as far as its cleaning abilities and it smells nice, but to think that folks are stealing it and selling it on the black market...goodness.

Because I worry about some of my readers, and don't want you to turn to the likes of the black market in order to feed your washing machines and launder your clothes, I am going to share with you the recipe we use for homemade laundry detergent.  I know what you're thinking, is Sarah really that cheap?  Well, yes, it's true, I can be that cheap. 

A couple weeks ago, I was walking out with one of the judges I work with and he asked me if I was going to the nursing home to see my grandma.  I said yes, I had to because she was needing clothes and we (the family) do her laundry.  He asked me if it was because she liked the smell of our laundry soap over the nursing home's.  To which I replied, "I doubt it, I make my own."  And his response as he was laughing, "I didn't realize you were so cheap."  Ha.

That cracked me up.  Although it does save grocery money, making your own laundry soap can be a fun family activity too.  Thankfully, my kids find it fun and fight over who will get to grate the bar soap.  Although usually after a few minutes, Lane is ready to pass it off to big sister.  My daughter's BFF loves it when it's time to boil the soap and she's around to help.  It does take about 20 minutes from start to finish and you do have to plan for it because you don't want to all of a sudden be without laundry soap, but it has been well worth our time and effort.  My in-laws have started using it in their brand new efficiency machine and think that it actually works better and keeps the washer smelling fresher.  Hhmm, I don't know about that, I have an older model that is still ticking.

Anyway, we have been making and using our own soap since August.  So far, we haven't seen any negative effects.  I was afraid that because I only use cold water, it wouldn't dissolve well or might leave streaks of white on black clothing, nope.  I have never seen any residue or anything left on the clothes.  My whites are not any dingier than they were before (I do still add bleach to my whites).  I have a friend who uses the powder homemade soap and likes it, but I have another friend who used it for a while and it clogged up her high-efficiency washer...so I went with the liquid version just to be safe.

I will say that it doesn't have any fabulous fresh mountain scent or anything like that, but I do still use fabric softener sheets in my dryer and get a little fragrance from that.  It is my understanding that you can add some scented oils to the liquid soap and it won't hurt a thing (there is a certain kind though) and I know that my friend "Beth" does this, but I just go with the boring soap smell.

So the following is the recipe that I found on the Internet to make liquid laundry detergent.  All of these ingredients are found at Rural King or Walmart and can be purchased for less than $10.  I still have the original boxes of Borax and Soda from August and will be able to make at least another two or three batches.  Lately I have been making double matches because I have made believers out of some family members and I'm nice enough to share :)  I did buy a 5-gal bucket from Rural King and use it to make the soap in.  Afterwards I pour it into gallon milk jugs.  Another tip that I will share is that I go ahead and grate the soap at the same time and just bag it up into thirds so that I don't have to grate it up each time.  It does resemble snot when you're done and will gel, but just give it a quick shake and pour it in.  Good luck!

Hot Water

½ C  Arm & Hammer Washing Soda

½ C  Borax

1/3 bar of Fels Naptha bar soap (grated)

-          In large pot, heat 3 pints of water.  Add the grated bar soap and stir until melted.  Then add the washing soda and borax.  Stir until powder is dissolved, then remove from heat.

-          In a 2-gallon clean pail, pour 1 quart of hot water and add the heated soap mixture.  Top pail with cold water and stir well.  Let sit overnight.

-          Use ½ cup per load, stirring or shaking soap before each use (it may gel or separate).

Poor gal

My grandma a/k/a Grandma Great had been doing so well in the nursing home.  We were coming up on a year without a major incident.  She seems to have set a pattern that we need to break.  First she broke/shattered her leg in January of 2009; then in 2010, she broke her hip; in 2011 she developed a strange condition with the twisting and co-mingling of her stomach and esophagus, which resulted in her moving into the nursing home...it's now 2012 and because she's going for some sort of record...

Last week, Grandma took a tumble as she was coming out of her bathroom.  She had made great strides the past few months of getting strong enough to walk to and from the bathroom with her walker, she had even gotten to where she could walk all the way to the dining room with her walker, although she realized it wiped her out if she did it too much.  I was proud of her for sticking with it though.  It leaves her with a little bit of independence.  As of late, she had started pushing the wheels of her wheelchair to make it go, and I was thrilled with that because she is certainly able and should be pushing herself around when she can.

When I first saw Grandma after she fell, it had been about four hours.  I had been told she had started to bruise almost immediately.  I must say that I was taken aback when I saw her face, her eye was completely swollen shut and her face was already a nasty purple.  I was not prepared for that at all.  Lane was with me and refused to look at her, said it was too awful.  She seemed fine though, but she was tired and I told her I would see her the next day on my lunch hour.  I talked to the nurses on the way out and they reiterated what my parents had told me, no broken bones, but she will be very sore.

The next day at lunch, I decided I would go see her first and then go for my lunch hour walk.  I assumed she would be lying in her chair or bed and not in the mood for chit-chat so it would be quick.  I walked into her room and was surprised to see that she was MIA.  Apparently she had decided to go to the dining room for lunch.  I couldn't believe it.  Okay, this was a good sign.  I get down to the dining room and immediately notice the back of her head...her hair has been fixed.  It was Wednesday, hair day.  She had kept her appointment at the beauty shop.  Of course, she had.  Her eye was much better, the swelling was down.  She was still sore, complaining of her chest hurting and told me a couple times, she thought she had possibly broken some ribs and mentioned that she must have pulled a muscle or something in her hip/thigh area because it was so sore.  No doubt she would be sore and bruised.

Finally on Friday, she was taken to the doctor and it was quickly discovered that something was not right.  She was transported to the ER and they did find that she had two broken ribs and a broken or cracked pelvis.  Her brain scan was good and so were her hips.  Thank you, Lord.  She takes a blood thinner which caused her to bleed a lot under the skin (I think) and made her black and blue just about everywhere.  Poor thing.  She is not a big complainer, but you could tell she hurt all over.

The night she was admitted, I snuck up to see her.  It was really late and I knew she would be asleep, but she has told me countless times to never, ever be afraid to wake her, she can sleep anytime.  So I didn't hesitate for more than a second before grabbing her hand.  She started talking immediately (no surprise, right) and although her teeth weren't in, which is always a little scary, and she was groggy, I could make out her requests.  She spouted off about five things she needed immediately, one and two being a hairbrush and her bright red lipstick, the new tube I had just bought her.  I had to giggle.  Maybe she thought the fire-engine-red lipstick would detract from the blue and purple bruising all over her face.

It took me back to her first fall in 2009, when even as they were wheeling her out of her room for surgery, she was applying blush and lipstick with a small mirror in her hand.  They told her they would just have to wash it off before surgery and she told them she didn't care, she wanted to look good going in.  I guess we have to work with what we've got, huh?

I went to see her again last night and she is just pitiful lying there.  She had me put her shoes on her feet because she says it's more comfortable.  My guess is the nurses will be quite surprised when they pull the sheets off of her and see her tennis shoes.  She told me she went round and round with one of the nurses the night before about a pillow.  I know that the nurses are doing what they're trained and told, but grandma isn't one for backing down.  She tells me in the end, she won that fight and got her pillow where she wanted it. 

This gal has got spunk, and she's a tough one even at 93.5 years of age. I'm praying that she'll recover from this fall too, just like she has before, and in time get back to her normal.  I know that her body has to be getting tired, and every time I prepare myself for the end, she perks back up.  Thy will be done.  Say a prayer for Grandma Great today if you would, please, and you might say one for her nurses too!

Chicken Salad

I have to share this little story.  I knew last week that our church was having a potluck on Sunday (yesterday) and I am all over the potlucks after church because you have to eat, right, so why not just eat at church and a) you get a bigger variety b) you don't have to clean up all by yourself, and c) there's good socialization, which I'm all over.

So I had decided that I was going to make some enchiladas to take, and I had a hankering for some chicken salad so I figured I'd go to the local IGA and buy some of their chicken salad because it is soooo good, grab some bread or buns and make some sandwiches.  Lane & I had been to Sam's on Saturday morning and as I was grabbing a bag of flat buns, I saw the mini flat buns and decided, ah, yes, that's what I'll use for the chicken salad sandwiches.  Good idea...I love those flat buns anyway!

Later that evening, Jay and I had a little date night and actually went to see a real movie at the movie theater.  On our way home, I had him stop at the IGA and I ran in and grabbed some chicken salad and some "meat" a/k/a ham salad.  Now, let me tell you, I don't know how much gold is running right now, but chicken salad is around $6 a pound and the "meat" salad was about that as well.  I love the stuff though and have tried buying it other places and even tried making it myself...it's worth the $6 a pound.  So I paid for the goods and we headed home to get our kiddos.

We stopped to pick up the kids from my parent's house, I was in a hurry because I wanted to get home and make those enchiladas so I wouldn't have to in the morning (since we lose an hour with the time change).  The meat was in the crockpot and all I had to do was shred it, add a few things and wrap them up.  We get home, I rush inside and begin the enchilada assembly line.  I cover them up, throw them in the fridge and go to bed.

I slept like a baby, which kinda surprised me because I had been drinking pop at the movie, and just because I don't always sleep very good.  When I wake up, I'm thrown at the time change and realize I have got to hurry to get to church.  I go out into the kitchen and immediately see a plastic shopping bag on the table.  What is that, I wonder?  And then I realize, it is that high-priced chicken salad and meat salad!  I had left it out on the table all night long.  Ugh, I was sick.  I had to throw it straight away.  Bummer.

We get ready for church, I get the enchiladas and decide to take my mini buns anyway...just in case.  I lead the beginning of church so I was telling them about leaving the almost-as-high-as-gold chicken salad out all night and pitching it because I love them enough to not give them food poisoning.  After church, we head downstairs and eat.  Several people are teasing me about how everything is good, but they really wish they had some chicken salad, and oh, it was nice of me to bring a bag of buns with nothing to go with it, etc.

I went over to peruse the dessert table and saw this unopened container with our preacher's last name on it.  Ah-ha.  I had noticed our preacher's son, David, bring a Tupperware container in and lay it down on the counter earlier.  You must know that our preacher's wife is one of the best cooks ever.  If she made it, it's good.  And since it was on the dessert table, I was hoping it was her blonde chocolate chip cookie bars.  I picked up the container and took the lid off.

Would you believe that inside that Tupperware container were stacks of mini flat buns (just like the ones I had bought) filled with chicken salad?!  WHAT ARE THE ODDS of that happening?  You know how there are always certain items at your church dinners...honestly, I have never seen chicken salad and flat buns there, ever...not only was it chicken salad, it was on the exact same mini flat buns that I had bought?!  I took the container and started passing out the chicken salad sandwiches to everyone who had been teasing me....and grabbed one for myself, of course.

Divine intervention is what I'm talking about.  Maybe the chicken salad I bought was contaminated or something.  Maybe God just knew I had to have chicken salad one way or the other yesterday and he was tired of my whining, I don't know.  But how cool is that?

Facebook

The eyes of the LORD are everywhere, keeping watch on the wicked and the good. The soothing tongue is a tree of life, but a perverse tongue crushes the spirit.  Proverbs 15:3-4 (NIV)

Last night I was near a couple of teenagers who were discussing some current high school drama.  I heard one of them say, "She told me it was none of my business!"  To which another girl responded, "If it's on Facebook, it is everyone's business."  Amen to that.

I have thought this countless times, thank God that Facebook didn't exist when I was in high school.  Holy cow, there is no telling what kind of stupid stuff I would've put out there.  That is not to say I don't put stupid out there every now and then, but wowza, I can only imagine what kind of rants I would've shared with everyone. 

I love Facebook.  I'm not addicted to it or obsessed with it.  I do have the opportunity throughout the day to peruse it, but I don't have to scour it over hourly to get through my day.  Living in such a small town, I find it a valuable tool for disseminating information to others in our community, and even to others who have moved on.  It can be used for good just as easily as it can be for the bad.  It's great for community announcements, shout-out's to someone deserving props, prayer requests, funnies (as long as they're appropriate for all ages), etc.  I have been able to re-establish contact with friends from church camp or high school, and I love seeing pictures of people and their children.

I have tried very hard over the years to think about what I post and whether it could be hurtful to another, about whether the information should be "public," and what my intentions are for the post.  There have even been times when I've been mad about something and wrote a vicious status and decided to erase it.  Unfortunately, there has been a time or two when I made a comment or a post that I did intend for someone to see and hopefully take offense to.  Shame on me.

As my daughter is approaching that super-dramatic age (right now we're just in the semi-dramatic age...as just a few years ago we graduated from the pre-dramatic age) I think often about how she will goof up a time or two 200 with her very own words, whether it will be from Facebook, texts or emails.  It is kinda scary as a parent with all those different information sources out there (and being the control freak that I am) not being able to control it.  It is so easy to say not-so-nice things when that person you're mad at is no where near you, and how the secrets that you shared with your BFF become public when your BFF isn't your BFF anymore. 

Sometimes as I read a teenager's post, I just laugh and think, oh my gosh, I am soooo glad this wasn't available when I was younger because this is really stupid or silly or totally inappropriate.  And oh, the bad stuff I probably would've said about my parents and teachers out of spite back then, I don't even want to think about.  And what about all the love-life drama I could have posted about, yikes...again, I am so thankful.

These days you have to be careful about the information you put out there.  As a young (or old) person seeking a job, it is very possible and very likely your potential employer will check and see if you have a Facebook account and just what kinds of things are posted on it.  I suppose that a college or someone looking over scholarship essays and applications could use it too.

I know that Facebook, for me, is sorta like my accountability partner.  I am Facebook friends with a lot of church family, youth from our youth group, church camp kids, my own family members, friends, coworkers, my kids' teachers and even some of my daughter's friends.  It is no secret that I am a Christian, so I have to remember that my comments, posts, likes, shares, etc, are tasteful and appropriate for all of my 'friends' listed above.  It's kind of like WWJD, but my version is WWST -   Who Will See This?...not that I'm all about image and what others think of me, but when I write something on FB, I cannot be worried about who will be reading it...because as my young friend above said, "If it is on Facebook, it is everyone's business," so I better not be ashamed or embarrassed of it (in case my preacher asks me about it;).

As I said, I think Facebook is and can be a valuable tool, and I think it can also be misused.  Sometimes we all just need to take a few moments and think about what we type before we type it...just like we're supposed to think before we speak.  I have to constantly remind myself of this...

Dirty rat

Last week, after a few days of Spring-like temperatures, I decided to break out my Spring jacket.  I love this light khaki jacket and found it a few years ago on a clearance rack for next to nothing.  It has a hood, which is a requirement for me, and is very casual but also decent enough to wear to work.

I wore my Spring jacket on Friday to work.  I came home, and in a flash, of course, I had to change my clothes and be on my way to the first activity of the evening.  (You know my day starts at around 4:00 p.m. when I got off of work!)  I didn't think twice about flinging my jacket over the back of one of the chairs at our counter/bar.  We always drape our stuff over the chairs. 

The evening ends and the sun rises on Saturday morning.  I'm getting ready to head out for the weekend and I'm packing.  I decide to grab both my jacket and a heavy coat (because I was heading to Springfield later on and would be outdoors).  I walk over to the chair and grab my jacket.  It won't budge.  Odd.  I pull again and I hear the hamster cage banging against the back of the chair.  (I should back up here a minute, we have Frankie the hamster's cage sitting on one of the chairs that goes up to our counter/bar area in the living room because I hated the thought of him being in Lane's dark room all day:)   And that was the chair my jacket was draped over.

New fun fact:  Hamsters will eat material, such as the hood of a Spring-like khaki jacket.  I yanked and pulled on that jacket and it finally came loose.  The hood of that jacket was almost entirely inside the cage.  Dirty rat.  I stretched it out to survey the damage...yep, holes all over.  It looked like a mouse (yes, this is why Jay calls her a rodent all the time) had a field day with my hood.  I could not believe all the pieces of material that were gone.  Honestly, I kinda worried that the hamster would die because she wouldn't be able to digest the material, but so far so good (I guess).  I'm going to attempt salvaging the jacket by removing the hood.  We will see what it looks like.  Thankfully, I found it on clearance!

I called Jay and told him about it.  He laughed and said, "Ha, even the hamster has turned against you.  Isn't she precious?"  Yeah, she's precious all right...that dirty rat.

Grace and Mercy

Like the rest, we were by nature deserving of wrath. But because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions—it is by grace you have been saved.  And God raised us up with Christ and seated us with him in the heavenly realms in Christ Jesus, in order that in the coming ages he might show the incomparable riches of his grace, expressed in his kindness to us in Christ Jesus. For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God— not by works, so that no one can boast.  For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.  Ephesians 2:3-10 (NIV)

Meet my two friends, Grace and Mercy.  Seems like lately there has been talk about these two gals everywhere I go.  And for some reason, no matter how many times my friend "Beth" explains to me the difference, I get them confused.  I think grace and mercy are things I'll need in my parenting bag of tricks.  So after reading yet another devotional on the subject matter, I decided that maybe if I wrote about them, it would stick in my head (yeah, probably not, but we'll see).

So I looked up the definitions for grace and mercy online at Merriam-Webster.  Here's what they had to say:  grace (noun) a: unmerited divine assistance given humans for their regeneration or sanctification b: a virtue coming from God c: a state of sanctification enjoyed through divine grace.  2 a: approval, favor b archaic: mercy, pardon c: a special favor, privilege d: disposition to or an act or instance of kindness, courtesy, or clemency e: a temporary exemption, reprieve. 

Then I noticed that M-W had a kids' dictionary so I thought I would see what they had to tell me about grace.  1 a: help given to people by God in overcoming temptation b: a state of freedom from sin enjoyed through divine grace 2: a short prayer at a meal  3 a: approval, favor b: a special favor : privilege c: a temporary delay granted from the performance of an obligation.

 (Now I was a little thrown when the definition of grace showed the word mercy...because, that is my problem - I tend to think they're the same thing and there they go including mercy in grace's definition!)

This was also from the kids' dictionary:  Mercy (noun) 1 a: kind and gentle treatment of someone (as a wrongdoer or opponent) having no right to it b: a disposition to show mercy  2 a: a blessing as an act of divine love b: a fortunate happening  3: kindness shown to victims of misfortune.

So there you go, the official definition of grace and mercy...although again, I really need it put in simpler terms.  I cannot go around carrying a dictionary everywhere I go.  So I searched for the difference online and came up with the following:  "Mercy and grace are often confused. While the terms have similar meanings, grace and mercy are not the same. To summarize the difference: mercy is God not punishing us as our sins deserve, and grace is God blessing us despite the fact that we do not deserve it. Mercy is deliverance from judgment. Grace is extending kindness to the unworthy."  (gotquestions.org)

 As a parent, I often pray that God will give me the knowledge to know when to offer my kids grace and mercy.  I envision a scenario like this:  Child goes some where they're not supposed to, realizes it, decides they have to get out of there, and call to get a ride home or comes home.  Parents discover child lied or was deceptive about going where they knew they were not supposed to be.  But parents are thankful that child removed him or herself from the situation before something bad happened and more importantly because they knew in their gut they shouldn't have been there.  I think this is a classic example to offer mercy, right?  The parent in me will want to punish the child because of their deception or misbehavior so that it never (hopefully) occurs again.  But will God speak to me and say, Sarah, this is when you offer mercy.  Your child knows what he/she did was wrong, they are sick with guilt about it, and in the end, he/she made the right choice. 

I sure hope that God will make it crystal clear to me.  I have a tendency to be rather hard on my kids which my daughter interpets to mean I want her to be perfect.  I don't want my kids to be perfect, I want them to live up to their potential and be good, kind, productive Christian citizens.  It is scary, as a parent, to wonder if you're doing the right thing.  I'm glad that the topic of grace and mercy keeps popping up.  Maybe, just maybe, I'll understand it in time.

I just want to be a cowgirl?

This past weekend was the annual Illinois Horse Fair at the Illinois State Fairgrounds in Springfield, and the kids and I went for the first time.  It starts on Friday and runs through Sunday.  Because we had a volleyball game on Saturday morning in southern Illinois, we didn't get up there until about 3:30 or so on Saturday afternoon.  It was a long lovely drive!

I'm not really sure what I was expecting, but I was surprised at all of the goings on.  There were shows and sessions occurring simultaneously in different buildings and arenas.  There were vendors set up everywhere with clothes, tack, horse feed, boots, trailers, jewelry, colleges, just about anything you can think of related to horses.  There were even horses there for sale.

We saw a horse trainer from Australia who is amazing.  Of course, I thought he was amazing...he's probably just like all the others, except for the nice accent, but the kids and I loved him.  At one point, he had one of his four horses lie down and then had the other three stand over the horse that was lying down!  He was on one of the horses that was standing.  And none of them batted on eye...of course, because why on earth would you do it otherwise?!  But still it was crazy.  Another trick was having a horse lie down and covering it with one of those big blue tarps like it was dead...again, he didn't move a muscle.  Those horses of his were very well trained.

And my kids' favorite act...these two men, one of whom was dressed like a woman wearing a "fat" suit and skimpy outfit trying to do tricks on a horse with "her" butt in the air and falling off and doing this and that to accent the large behind.  I told the people sitting next to me, watch, this will be what my kids remember...and sure enough, Lane can't wait to tell people and laughs when he talks about it.

I took in a lot of information on how to handle a horse...and I lost most of it.  Fortunately, someone in our group bought the videos for us to pass around.  I need some serious one-on-one with a horse if I am ever going to get the hang of things.  I'm not sure you'll ever see me on a horse standing over another one who is lying down, but I am committed to at least learning as much as I can so that I will feel more comfortable around them.  I must say that I am 100% more comfortable around them now than I was two years ago...so there is always room for improvement...I just need to get another 100% under my belt.

At Christmas, my main wish was for a pair of real cowboy boots.  I took a magazine and circled various styles and told Jay to get me a size 8 in any of the ones I had picked, he could choose.  And he did exactly that.  The boots were very nice and I liked them, but they were way too big.  I wasn't sure what size to get and I should have went somewhere and tried on some before just throwing a size out there.  Sometimes I act without thinking...I know, I know.

So we sent them back and I had planned to get the same boots in a smaller size, but just never did.  Well, lo and behold, wasn't I surprised to see all the vendors set up at the horse fair?  And oh, how delighted I was when I saw several that had boots!  I quickly honed in on a pair that caught my eye and I was in love.  I tried them on in sizes 7 and 7.5 and settled on the 7.  I texted Jay to ask if he thought it was okay, he said to go for it.  So I did and I love them.  They are the coolest boots ever!

I wore them all evening around the house and will need to wear them several evenings to get them broke in.  (Apparently that is a drawback to cowboy boots!)  I also need to purchase some very tall socks instead of borrowing Madolyn's very loud, tall boot socks.

I'm all psyched up again about horses after this weekend.  I just need to find a horse that fits my abilities (one that is alive and under 25 yrs of age hopefully) and learn a little lot more about what I'm doing and then I'll be ready to blaze another trail.  I don't own a cowboy hat yet, and I'm not so sure I'll ever get that far, but you just never know...

The treasured towels

Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal.  But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal.  Matthew 6:19-20 (NIV)

I don't know why, but this morning as I was showering, I thought about a set of bath towels Jay and I  received as a wedding gift when we got married back in 1995.  They were so nice and thick, tan and beige checkered.  I can still remember who got them for us.  They were from the parents of three local boys Jay and I have been friends with since forever. 

At the time Jay and I lived in a trailer and it had color schemes.  Of course, mauve or rose and country blue dominated the trailer's prefab interior, but hunter green, burgundy and navy blue (remember the jewel tones) was the popular trend at that time and that is what I went with.  I decided to paint the big bathroom burgundy, which actually turned out to be Barney Purple (you know what I'm talking about) and it was hideous.  But on our registry, I put down that our bathroom color scheme was burgundy and hunter green.

And we did get a bunch of burgundy and hunter green towels, and also some turquoise-colored towels (someone's color wheel was a little off but they worked), and the above-mentioned very nice, thick set of tan/beige towels.  I proudly displayed the burgundy and hunter green towels and put away the tan/beige checked towels because I had decided they were way too nice to be using.  I packed them away and thought we would use them later, for good.  Yes, that makes sense.

Jay and I lived in that trailer from 1995 until 1997, then moved to Lawrenceville and rented a house until 1998, then bought our first house and stayed there until we moved home in December of 2000.  When we moved home, we lived temporarily in a house until our house was built and we moved in there around September of 2001.  We carried those checked tan/beige towels along with us each move...but never used them because they were too good.  I was saving them for later...for like the president or something.

We finally broke those towels out of their storage box in, I think, 2002 and put them to use in our bathroom.  As in, we are actually using them, they're not just sitting out as pretties.  In fact, as I dried off with one of them this morning, I noticed that it is falling apart.  (Maybe the moths and vermin finally got to them?)  I suppose they've held up pretty well considering they were purchased in the summer of 1995.  We actually still own quite a few of the burgundy, hunter green and turquoise towels.  They are now our "dog" towels, but we've used them on various animals, cows, goats, cats, etc.

I do this from time to time, I save stuff that people give to me because I think it is just too nice to waste or too nice to use up too quickly.  I have saved bath/shower gel before because it was from Bath & Body and thought it was just too expensive to waste on everyday use.  Ha.  I hit a clearance sale after Christmas and bought some for $2.75 a bottle.  Apparently, it's not that precious.

I suppose we're all guilty of storing up treasures here on earth every now and then...or at least I am.  But honestly, it is just stuff.  Those checkered tan/beige towels were nice, but the cheap bright turquoise ones did the trick too.  We carried around those silly "good" towels for seven years before using them.  Why?  What was I waiting for?  I just had to laugh when I thought about that this morning.  In heaven, we won't even need towels...did I think Jesus might need a soft, plush tan/beige checkered towel up there or what? 

So go on, get out your good towels and use that bath gel.  Jesus won't need it later and neither will you.

Good book

I just finished reading a book on my Nook called The Emancipation of Robert Sadler.  It was about him growing up in the early 1900s as a slave.  He and his sisters were sold by their father when he was only five years old.  It was very good, I could hardly put it down.  In fact, I think I read it in less than 30 hours.  It was heartbreaking, yet also inspiring.  Because I cannot imagine that era and how things really were, it seemed unbelievable at times, yet I know it was true.

I think the thing that struck me the most was how I take for granted little things like speaking, writing, reading, picking up a bible if I want to, and just knowledge in general.  There was a point in the book where he saw a child's toy for the first time.  He had never seen a toy and he was less than ten years old.  How simple.  When told that only white people went to heaven, Robert believed it because he didn't know any better.  His mother's dying wish was that he would learn to read so that he could read a bible.  They didn't have one though, and Robert had no clue what a bible was. 

I know that there are places in our world today where situations are not a whole lot different than they were nearly 100 years ago as described in this book.  Again, it is unbelievable to me, yet I know it is true.  How sad that people still live in conditions similar to this.  I don't have a clue what it is really like, and neither do my kids...thankfully, I suppose.

I thought this story was an amazing example of perseverance, determination, hope and faith.  If you're looking for something read, check it out.