Visit me Elsewhere on the WWW...

Hey there- if you're interested, I have a new blog addy- I'll probably be doing the majority of my posting there from now on- unless I sprout another head and seriously need to vent- then I'll return here to do my dirty work. :)

Hope to see you at www.justafishinabowl.com. Leave me a comment and let me know you're reading.

Praying God blesses you real good! angie

EGR'd OUT

Isn't there some sort of heavenly rule that you should only have to deal with one "Extra Grace Required" person at the same time? I have three.

One is a church member going through a marriage crisis- she's mad at the church for "not doing enough" for her yet won't accept any help from the numerous offers she's received over and over again. She's mad at me for being a "bad" friend. It's hard to keep offering knowing she's going to shoot us down. My husband told her we loved her on Sunday and she said, "Yeah, right."

Number two is my Bi-Polar Bear, who has recently returned to church after a long break. I hold my breath around her trying not to do or say anything that will set her off or be misinterpreted. It's nerve-racking.

Number three is a 24 year old man at our church with Ausberger's Syndrome, Paranoia, and Bi-Polar disorder who has discovered facebook. Correction: He has discovered ME on facebook. And he continually drowns my inbox with novels on random subjects full of his rantings. He loves to debate politically and is currently fixated on the Health Care bill. I have blocked him from everything I can without deleting him altogether... and I think I've already had the patience of a saint with him... but he is really driving me crazy.

Seriously, Lord?

I am not a counselor- I just play one on TV...

Assaulted. That's how I feel on a Sunday. Assaulted with other people's problems. Many people in our church think that, because of my illustrious title on a Sunday morning, I am also a trained counselor. And most of the time, I have no idea what to say when they come to me with their problems. I counted this past Sunday: four different people waited to talk to me about their personal problems- looking for advice.

Marriage problems. Parenting problems. Blended family problems. Aging parent problems. One older guy even told me he was late because he had dirrahea. I'm not kidding. I've been cried on, cussed at, talked about, and put on an unfortunate pedestal while I'm wearing stilettos (ok, I've never really worn stilettos, but you get the idea). It feels dangerous.

What if I say the wrong thing to someone? I mean, the diarahhea guy I can handle: "Go eat some cheese, buddy, and keep it to yourself next time... oh, and never trust a fart." Simple mom advice. I can't help with issues I've never dealt with- like parenting a surly step-child. Yikes. I guess I'm going to have to learn to say "I don't know the answer, but I'll sure help you pray about it." I can listen like a friend, I can care, and I really can pray.

That much I can do.

PS: You really never should trust a fart. Some free advice- from a non-licensed counselor-at-large. ;)

Well, Hellfire and Damnation.

My worst nightmare has come true. I am now running the women's ministry at our church. After a complete flip-out (all over me, as described in a previous post)... our women's ministry leader quit in a blaze of glory. No one on the planning team feels "called" to lead it- that's such a Christian way to say no, isn't it? Grr.

Why should I be leading it if it isn't my thing? Well, because I'm the pastor's wife, of course. Not that I find myself resenting this or anything... even though I was only begrudgingly a member of the planning team. Even though this really isn't my thing. Even though I have to MAKE myself go to Women of Faith because I don't enjoy it (blasphemy, I know). They get me or nothing, for the time being. Sigh.

All I can say is, I can do this with a smile on my face... all the while praying for God to send the right woman with the right heart. Our women need a continued active and healthy women's ministry- they deserve it. And despite my feelings, I won't let lack of leadership stop that from happening. I will find inspiration, by God's grace.

But I am NOT planning any freaking tea parties.

In the Beginning...

I've been spending a lot of time trying to go back to the basics- especially with my relationships. I have way too many complicated relationships in my life. It's nice to remember when they were free from bad memories, harsh words, terrible actions, temptations, hurt, and all the other things the world throws at you. Times of true friendship, innocent romance, secret promises- when you put the other person first simply because you couldn't help it.

We all know life begins in Jr. High. Those feelings begin in Jr. High. When I first met my husband, I was a gawky 8th grader. He was, in my eyes, a Greek God disguised as an 8th grader. I saw him the very first day of school, and the first time our eyes met was one of the most thrilling moments of my life. Cheezy, I know, but it's true. Those are the moments I like to think back on.

I was always the tallest girl in my grade- always on the back row for class pictures, and I felt like my feet were huge- I believe my brother called them banana boats once when I was about 10 and gave me a complex for the rest of my life. I had braces, chubby cheeks, freckels, and was never really "in" with the right group. Eighth grade year, however, was going to be different... I just knew it. 1983 was going to be my year; plus, how could it not be when your gym teacher's name was Mrs. Weiner? The cut-downs involved in that alone were fathomless.

First of all, I was taking a couple of new friends back to school with me- boobs. They were startling and a little embarrassing... but I knew the power they held. Second, I had been practicing kissing all summer with a neighbor boy who's name was Rob- he was a year older than I was and was very willing to give lessons- and my dad never caught us out in the driveway at dusk before the streetlights came on (if that doesn't count as divine intervention, then I don't know what does). Third, I was now the exact same size as my mother- which automatically doubled my wardrobe. Nothing of hers was safe... it was awesome. Fourth, I had learned that the secret to hair that looked as fabulous as Farrah's was that you curled it all UNDER first- then flipped it back into your wings and cemented it with nothing less than Final Net (which I think has now been declared a biohazard by the Federal Government). I mean, duh... who didn't know you curled UNDER first? Lastly, my best friend Cathy Porter was a cheerleader. There's no end to the popularity that can be sucked from a BFF who is a cheerleader. I believed that the perfect storm had come together with these five elements to create the turn-around in my social life and the best eighth grade year that anyone had ever had.

I remember what I wore that first day of eighth grade. I wore my one pair of Gloria Vanderbilt jeans (remember the swan?) with my first pair of heels: super-hip yo-yos (heels with large holes in them, for the uncouth reading this). My top was perfect; it was one of my mom's summer sweaters- light purple with a scoop neck and three-quarter sleeves. And it kind of showed off my new friends. I looked pretty darn cute, if I did say so myself.

I walked in to SLJH with faked confidence, and a positive, knock-em-dead attitude- determined that I was going to convince everyone that I was worthy of their admiration. I must admit that I was way more concerned with impressing the girls than the guys. Face it- jr. high girls' meanness can rival a hungry bear coming out of hibernation, so that first day, I wasn't really thinking about boys- I was concerned with hanging with the right girls. You had to have a plan... really now, first things first.

That first day before lunch, one of my teachers sent me to the office to get something- I don't remember what. On the way back to the classroom, I had just turned into a short hallway that connected two other hallways and happened to be looking up when a new, cute and (gasp) taller-than-me boy walked by. I smiled, he didn't, and he kept walking. "Oh well," I thought. I had reached the middle of the hallway when his head peeked back around the corner to look at me. He had backed up (!)- I think to see if I was a teacher or a student, smiled a goofy smile at me, and took off, embarrassed. I remember feeling the blush burn my cheeks and the smile on my face that I couldn't dislodge.

At lunch I continued with the bold, new me. I saw him sitting with Leonard Gonzalez (who was the first boy that ever asked me to couple skate, by the way), and as I passed their table, I held out my hand and introduced myself. He told me his name and I sat down to talk for a couple of very nervous minutes... comparing summer events, class schedules (same math class... YES!) and other such important jr. high business.

That was it for a while. There were shy smiles from me in the hallway and tentative friendship, even though he went through a series of girlfriends, and never seemed to be without one long enough for me to have time to let someone tell someone else to tell him that I liked him. It went on like that from September until January. After Christmas break, our math teacher got mad about all of the continuous talking and moved everyone's assigned seats. Another divine intervention occured when she seated me directly behind him. I thought I had died, and I already knew I was in love. The new seating arrangement led to the correcting of each other's papers while we were grading, the passing of notes, and lots of quick glances back and forth. We were becoming friends, even though he (always) had a girlfriend.

In late January, suddenly, there was no girlfriend for him. And there seemed to be more attention for me. I think I lived for math class, and the way my heart would flutter whenever I saw him.

My jr. high had quite the way to determine each person's specifically ranked popularity. The cheerleaders sold Valentines Day carnations- which would be delivered to your BFF or significant other's first period class for only $1.00 each. This is the equivalent to being the last kid picked for the dodgeball team if you didn't get any. Girls were very adept at quickly counting carnations and comparing your worth to theirs. Carnations were currency into the good life. When our classes' carnations were delivered, I remember that I got 14 or 15- which was a really good number, and exactly the same number as my best friend Cathy Porter. I quickly looked through all of the attached slips telling me who mine were from, and my heart sunk to the depths of the Grand Canyon when I realized that none, not even one, were from him. I remember tears stinging my eyes and fighting them back. The bell rang, class started. I settled into my seat, determined to be happy with what I had- after all, he wasn't my boyfriend.

About a minute after the school announcements and the Pledge of Allegiance, there was a banging at the door. My science teacher Mr. Bussey was extremely annoyed. We all looked to the door and it was him. Late, out of breath, sweating from the illegal run to my classroom... and he was holding a dozen sweetheart roses. Pink. He stuck his head in the door, pointed the roses at me, and I jumped up and ran to him, my cheeks blushing and my heart soaring. He said, "These are for you" with a smile. I hugged his neck and thanked him. The girls in the class burned with jealousy. Mr. Bussey rolled his eyes and asked if we were quite finished yet? He ran to his class, and I went back to my seat, pretty much unaware of anything that was said in science class that day.

From that point on, we started eating lunch together. My braces came off the next week, which gave me the confidence to ask him to the girl's choice Sadie Hawkins Dance. He said yes. He asked me to go steady with him over the phone on March 1, 1984. He was mad at his younger sister because she kept coming into the room, he wanted privacy- I knew it was coming, but he took forever to ask me. Sweet anticipation. I said yes.

From there it was an awkward but tender first kiss, a million more notes passed, and an 8th grade prom in May that included a limo driver and me getting my hair "done" for the very first time- into a french twist with baby's breath woven into the back. Weren't we cute?

Then there was the summer after 8th grade where we hardly saw each other but talked a lot on the phone... and walking into the High School hand in hand to face it together.

From there, things got complicated... but it's so nice to look that far back because even though there were bad memories, harsh words, terrible actions, temptations, and hurt that followed, we do have a happy ending, after all. I knew 8th grade was going to be the bomb.

Perspective...

Two months out from surgery and a month out from the accident... things are looking much better. Life is calming down- sanity is returning. The painkillers have left my system. :) I have people I'm talking to when I need it. Profanities no longer threaten to burst out at physical therapy- I hit 114* last week with my ultimate goal of 120*. I have things I'm looking forward to and a great friend I trust.

Don't get me wrong, there are still ministry woes- in fact, I got cursed at in the church parking lot(rather loudly)just last Sunday by a friend who said our church was all platitudes and no action. I disagreed as lovingly as I could and tried to encourage her; then I stewed and fretted. That is, until a friend showed me that she is trying to fill the holes in her life with the church and with me- and feeling like people should be jumping to fill the needs when they don't realize there are any. And we will always fall short. The church is full of imperfect people... and I am in that church of imperfect people. I can't fix her. The church can't fix her. But God can. She admitted that she isn't in the word, isn't seeking, and I reminded her yesterday that she needed to be. Our relationship is tense and I dread every interaction with her. But I feel a little more empowered knowing that I'm not responsible for fixing her. That helps me.

My husband and I are going to get a little counseling as far as handling ministry issues like this and balancing our schedules so that we will finally have some family time. We haven't been doing a great job with the balancing act- working too many hours at the expense of our kids- putting "ministry" above our family because we feel like the work will never end and we'll just fall farther behind if we don't push through. We don't want to sacrifice our family on the alter of ministry- and I know that's not what God wants for us. But I feel like we're taking positive steps in the right direction- and I'm hoping both of us can let go of some unrealistic expectations that we have of ourselves and learn to say one simple little word: No.

In the midst of my life- whether I'm peaceful (like today) or stomping my foot and shaking my little fist at God- he is there. What a comfort.

I guess I'm not done yet.

I'm feeling way out of sorts. I don't even know how to explain it. Our lives are upside down- with way too many balls in the air. We've had major event after major event in the last six weeks- and I'm just about done. I just told my husband I wouldn't go to a church event two doors down tonight because I just don't feel like I can be around people right now.

1. I can't get caught up at work. Not since my surgery (major event).
2. My nephew moved in with us and is struggling with major, difficult issues major event). My son is resenting having to babysit his cousin.
3. We have four separate insurance claims going on right now- each of which have involved a major event. (flood in basement, knee replacement, rolled and totaled car, and our son's resulting hospital stay).
4. Since last Friday: we got ready for a garage sale all day.
Saturday: we had a garage sale all day for Donn's parents. All of the unsold things now reside in our garage, with some big things left for us to sell.
Sunday: Fourth Anniversary- at the church from 7am for set up until the last person left at 4pm. Try to clean up our house and collapse.
Monday: Funeral all day. 8am-4pm once we got cleaned up after the meal. Then we had to have dinner with someone from the congeregation for a joint counseling session regarding a couple's relationship. Home at 10pm or so.
Tuesday: Work on a ridiculously slow computer- one of our drives is almost full and we haven't had a second to get another one up and running yet. It's as slow as molasses- and entering offering today was torture. I'm still not done.

People started calling my cell this morning at 7am with prayer requests- blood clots in my father's leg, can you pray for him; a child back in the hospital, can you go see her; people needing things from me... there are dramas I need to write, people I need to contact, bills I need to pay, my house is a wreck, the office is a mess, my leg isn't bending yet how it should- we're having to break through scar tissue for every degree that I'm able to bend it(I'm at 102* now and need to get to 120*) and therapy has become an exercise in not yelling out words that a Pastor's wife shouldn't say- if I could spell excruciating... I would use that word.

I feel like I'm being pulled in so many different directions right now- and i'm caring less and less about all of them- and that's a dangerous place to be, I know.

I can't be burned out- first of all, I've been off so much lately (hence the behind-ed-ness) with therapy, etc... But I haven't missed a Sunday- an "always on" Sunday, or a meeting or event. Secondly, I don't have time to be burned out.

Oh and get this... a kid in our children's dept. on Sunday was diagnosed with Swine Flu today. seriously. Is my throat a little sore or is that my imagination?

At the women of faith conference one of the speakers was a market researcher and wrote a book on what makes people happy- and one of the things that truly happy people did was "single-tasking". That is so not me. Not my life. I feel like I'm drowning and I'm about to flip out.

I feel like if I go away... take a vacation... I'm just going to come back to... this. More chaos. I keep telling God I wasn't meant for this life of ministry. I don't know if I'm that selfish or just overwhelmed... regardless, he isn't listening.

I don't want to work at the church anymore. I think. But I can't say that out loud yet, and we can't make it without the income.

So now I'm off to a night of laundry, hanging up coats (why can't anyone hang up a coat in my house?), cleaning bathrooms that haven't been cleaned in two weeks, dusting things that have needed to be dusted for a month... and again, my husband is at a meeting away from the family- when he's here, he's not here... he's having to think about the next thing he has to do... whether it's the next meeting, the next message, or the next whatever... Down time has disappeared.

Alright. The introvert has spoken. And whined. It's time to get back to that to-do list. I apologize for the downer post, but this is my reality right now.

Ticked.

It amazes me the nerve that some people have. The things they will say to you when they feel that they pay your salary.

Sunday was our fourth anniversary, and we traditionally do a vision casting thing on our anniversary. In the past year, some pretty amazing things have happened- Land for instance. 38 acres of miracle land. For a ridiculous price. Like- God Ordained- there's no other word for it.

So Sunday, Donn gives this amazing message about all that God has done, is doing and what the vision for the future is. It was one of his best ever, I think. Specifics on the building we are thinking about and what things we feel God is calling us to do with the land, etc... from the leadership of the church. He really cast a vision for people to catch and asked them if we were ready for God's vision for US- because he didn't give us this land to watch wheat grow on it... it was very motivating and moving; and we had no idea the amazing things that He was going to do if we stayed out of the way.

After the service, one person came up to him and said, "Don't build the Titanic." I am ticked on so many levels- not necessarily of the critique of Donn's "big" vision.. but for their lack of faith in what God has in store for us and their complete ignorance.

And he won't tell me who they are. I am ready to go TP someone's house or spray some big eyeballs on the side of their barn (vision, get it?) - and he's too nice to tell me who said it. He's protecting them. He's such a better person than I am... because I have a sermon for whoever said that.

Grrr. Ticked.

Checking in-

It's been crazy and my heart hasn't been in much of anything. I've been working hard on therapy since my knee surgery- I'm at a little over a 90* bend now and pushing harder every day. It hurts like nothing I've felt before. The tightness- hard to explain. We are going to end up owing about $4,000 on this- which is a really good deal considering the total cost of the surgery!

My nephew is now living with us- long story. Trouble at home... homeschooling from my house... he's been here one week. On Sunday, he and my son were driving to pick up a friend for youth group (he's 17, my son is 14) and he lost control of our car and rolled it 3 times. They are both ok, and very lucky to be alive. My son got the worst of it with a bad concussion and a broken nose. They both are cut up and look like they lost a fist fight. But they are alive. They kept my son overnight at the hospital and I stayed with him. I'm sure there's going to be a fight between our health insurance and the auto insurance as far as the bill- I'm letting my husband deal with all of that. But there's no telling what we're going to end up owing and how it will affect our future premiums. Oh, and of course it was the car with the working air conditioning. sigh. We are not replacing the car- we're going to make due with our van for a while- until we're out of debt and can pay cash for a used second car. This puppy has to hold together for another year or so. I'm so glad they're ok I don't care about the car or the insurance or the money that we're going to owe on this.

This all follows the flood in our basement about a month ago which we are still working with insurance to get everything taken care of. We're getting a new roof out of it because of hail damage and we have to have carpet and window work done as well as some re-grading of our property to prevent this from happening again. I don't know if all of our insurance money is going to cover all we HAVE to do.

We are having a garage sale on Saturday selling a lot of big stuff to try to help out- we are selling our really nice pool table and some other misc. furniture... and next week, my wedding ring is going on Craigslist.

Oh yeah, and I turn 40 on Thursday. Yeah. Kick me while I'm down. Maybe it will slip quietly by... sigh.

Anyway, pray for us... we are feeling this attack! Blessings on you all and I'll check back when I'm not hanging on by a thread anymore.

I wonder...

why everything feels better when you have fresh, clean sheets on the bed?

Please Excuse

the funky header... I suck at graphics. My husband is supposed to help me at some point in the next few days get it fixed.

Good things that happened this week:

-Went to church for the second week in a row and we had huge numbers!
-Haven't fallen down the deck stairs again and thought I was going to die from the pain, thus spending another full day in a drug-induced haze.
-Found out that the plate of Shannon's that I broke while I was falling down the stairs only cost her $1.99. I thought it was a $40 plate from Pottery Barn or something!
-Am completely over the "Super Infection" C-Diff and Ulcerated Colitis that I caught in the hospital (in other words: I'm eating normal food with no repercussions!)
- Am needing the Percocet less and less- ditto the Valium.
- I start therapy three times a week tomorrow. I'm scared. I've heard they are going to make me cry. But I'm gonna be tough.
- My son's 8th grade football team just won their second game- he's really emerging as a leader on the team. It's so cool to see.

Uncomfortable things that happened this week:

- Three letters: CPM. (That's my Continual Passive Motion machine). owie.
- I am avoiding a situation with someone that I need to face up to... but I don't want to get any more involved with her. Have you ever just been "done" with someone? And is it ok to be "done" with someone as a PW?
- An older guy (well, older than me- he's like 45-50) has been hitting on me every week at church and making me really uncomfortable (and yes, he knows I'm the PW!). I'm using counter-measures to avoid ANY alone time with him, even in a crowd! ick.

I guess that's it for now... peace.

Over a year ago...

I wrote these two posts about my brother's death:

Wednesday, 13 February 2008

11:22 pm: Sitting with my big brother at Hermann Memorial Hospital in Houston. He was an amazing man and he loved me and my sister so much. He took really good care of us and now it's our turn to take care of him. David was in a motorcycle accident on Saturday, February 9 and he died today with a traumatic brain injury. He is here as an organ donor and my sister and I are going to stay with him for the next 24 to 36 hours until he goes into his final surgery. We are holding his hands and making sure his toes stay warm and covered up and just being with him for a little bit longer. Perched on his pillow, there is a valentine on one side of his head and a picture of the three of us on the other side. I'm so glad I'm here- I wouldn't be anywhere else. I love you, DuDu. I'll see you in heaven...

2:30 am: Still here~David's final surgery has been pushed back from 3am to 5:30am due to the logistics of getting all the different transplant teams and surgeons that need to be here all here at the same time. We will have been here in the transplant center about 31 hours with him when he goes to surgery- fighting sleep and wanting to stay awake to be with him every second. So far, his amazing nurse Amy has placed his heart, his liver, his pancreas, and both kidneys. He has continued to stay on life support to keep his organs healthy and functioning, but he's clinically been gone since 6:25 yesterday afternoon. It's been so good to be here with him and continue to take care of him- and it's reassuring to still see his chest rising and falling for a little while longer. He is starting to look more like himself- the swelling in his face has gone down a lot in the past couple of days and that's reassuring too. It's going to be so hard to say goodbye when they come to get him in about 5 hours. Jesus, give us strength to let him go- we know he is already yours and happier than he's been in a long time. Thank you for the little bit of extra time we have had with him.

It's been 19 months since I wrote that and just this week, I got something in the mail that brought it all back- but in a sweet, tender way. I received a package from Carla, his wife with a note that said this:

"Angie, I was going through more boxes and found these. I thought you might like to have them. I didn't find anything for anyone else that he had saved. You were very special to Dave and he loved you very much! Carla"

Included in the package were random pictures I had drawn for him, valentines cards, pictures of me from camping trips (particularly the one where he was supposed to be watching me when I was 2 and I jumped off a picnic table and knocked out both my front teeth), and just all kinds of things a little sister gives her big brother. Here are a few samples:

A picture I drew at age 7 for him when David and my dad built our family dog Misty her dog house- Misty has a caption over her head that says, "I think this is my lucky day!"

A letter I wrote David when he was away at college that says, "Dear David, Merry Christmas! I love you very much. I hope you have a very merry Christmas with lots of silver bells and a stocking full of goodies. I am waiting up for Santa and will put in a good word for you! Lotsa' Love, Angie

There was a child's classroom valentine that I signed "To David from Angela your sister in 2nd grade."

There was a 1st grade spelling list from May 3, 1977 with all ten words listed out.

There were rhyming worksheets where I had to color the objects that rhymed (bat, cat).

There was a "God's Eye" craft that I made at Camp Pearl Wheat in Kerville, TX for him to hang in his car... which he did for a year or so.

There is a birthday card that I colored him when I was eight years old. Inside it says: "Dear Old Man, How do you feel? Let's get on with the business. I like you Mr. 20 year old man. Love, Angie"

There is the long letter I wrote him when I was 13 in 1982 that says in part, "Now I want you to enjoy yourself up there [in New Orleans where he had just moved], but henceforth frometh my lips cometh a command: Go git yerself a girlie! Open your mouth and ask one out for me, ok? Love, your charming, loveable, adorable, cute, sweet, pretty, funny and modest baby sister (angie)!"

And finally, my three favorite letters to him (and his pet peeves):

"Dear David, I am sory I steped on your foot! You know nobdoys perfete. Anyway I am realy sory!! Love Angie (I must have been in first or second grade- hence the spelling!)

This one is typed- I was maybe in 3rd grade and I walked into his room and saw his christmas present for me not yet wrapped sitting on his bed- it was a Crystal Gayle album: "To David. I forgot to knock again. Some Day I Will Learn! Please Forgive Me. Angela PS.I hope you like flowers, here are some for you: **********************************************************************************

Lastly, I must confess that I am a bread lover. Always have been. Apparently I like gravy as evidenced in the following letter, I think I was about 10 years old... it's in cursive, but not dated:
"Dear David, You know at supper? When you said all I do is eat bread and gravy? Well just right now I don't realy care if I have a big fat toe or I'm ten pounds over weight. If it irratates you just don't look at me! Love, Angie. PS: I really love you.

When I opened the envelope from Carla, I read her note and waited to look at anything until my husband could sit and look at it with me because I knew I would lose it. And I did... but it was sweet memories of a sweet relationship... my eyes are tearing now thinking of it and looking at these things again. Just to know that he saved them- he kept them all together in a box of things that I had given him and made for him... helps me, touches me, heals me. What a sweet, unexpected blessing.

20

Twenty staples out today... one by one... sting-y, but not unbearable. The scar looks good and will most likely be a nice thin line. The doctor and PA marveled at my progress- especially since the last time they saw me I had ultra-low blood pressure, fever, angry intestines, and hair that hadn't been washed for five days. Bleh. Bonus: I get to take a real shower tomorrow with no garbage bag taped to my leg!

My blessing of a friend Brenda Moore took me and we had a great time- stopping for Starbucks afterward to celebrate. I had my ultra-favorite Sweetened Green Tea Lemonade (you should try it) and a celebratory chocolate chip cookie. I have lost ten pounds since the surgery- I seriously think they had me full of bags and bags of IV fluid that I have since peed out. :)

My work continues as I try to bend to 110* (I'm still only on 85* with a great deal of pain and drugs). More importantly, I have to be able to get it completely straight. I've been walking incorrectly for so long (with a bent leg that couldn't straighten)- I fear that's going to be where the real pain and work comes in. And all of this has to be accomplished before scar tissue sets in and they have to "break through" it... which doesn't sound fun at all. However, the blessing in all of this is that my leg is greatly straightened... it had started to curve inward at the knee- the bone was collapsing because of arthritis. I'm really excited about having two straight legs again!

Prayers are appreciated as I continue to heal. :)

By Your Stripes...

I drug myself to work today and got payroll done and paid the bills that couldn't wait. Paying bills on Percocet makes me nervous, but I double checked everything and made sure it was all right!

Still can't put all my weight on my right leg- maybe about 40% or so with crutches- but progressing! I can feel right where they screwed my new knee into my shin- sometimes the pain is unbelievable. By Your stripes, i am healed.

And my stomach is better- the ugly bout of Ulcerated Colitis is all but gone- I finished my antibiotic for that today. Hopefully the good/bad bacteria stay in balance without the help of any more antibiotics. By Your stripes, i am healed.

Now it's all about pushing forward through the pain and getting WELL. How I want to be healthy again- Lord, please grant me this while I am young enough to enjoy it. By Your stripes, i am healed.

I am yours. amen.

How to Have a Colonoscopy at Age 39 in Twenty Easy Steps

1. Go into the hospital for a LONG-awaited knee replacement surgery. Must also have bone spur on side of knee and a Baker's Cyst behind said knee is helpful as well. (Helpful hint: Make sure your insurance has pre-approved the surgery or it could get expensive!)

2. Get crucial dose of antibiotics into your IV before the surgery to fight off any infections lurking in the knee area so you are not as susceptible to infection after the surgery.

3. It is very helpful to have Lupus and a suppressed immune system- the immune system (the white blood cells, the "good guys") must be suppressed because with Lupus, white blood cells overproduce into the billions and then turn on each other and their own Home Sweet Home. Henceforth, the white blood cells will be called Flesh Eating Zombies.

4. Make it out of the surgery with flying colors- anticipating the traditional three-day stay for this procedure. Eat a light Dinner on Day One.

5. On day two, be sure to order a full breakfast and lunch and eat them both. They will be the last meals you eat for a while. Take a leisurely stroll to the nurses station and back. Marvel at your accomplishment. Meanwhile in your body, the proactive dose of antibiotics you were given becomes very confused as it roams around. Who are the good guys? Who are the bad guys? There are so many of the white ones, and they are really quite menacing... the antibiotic decides to take them all out as a precaution. To the Flesh Eating Zombies... something more powerful than they are has entered their turf (a la Crypts vs. Bloods). And it's killing them all. Don't worry, the cost would be too high to have a funeral for each white blood cell (I mean Flesh Eating Zombie) that dies- they'll be taken care of in the next step or two.

6. Around suppertime on Day Two, start to get a stomach ache unlike any other you've ever had before. Watch your abdomen swell as if you were pregnant with an alien baby. Marvel as it becomes more painful than your knee, where bones have been sawed in half in two places- on the shin and the thigh- where the new and improved bionic knee has been placed with lots and lots of screws. You'll be forgetting about your knee for a while. Meanwhile, the antibiotic is doing a little dance in your intestines for killing off all the helpful bacteria that lives in there. It decides the bad bacteria (which everyone has to a small degree) can stay because we all know it's the bad kids that make parties more fun. A lot of the bad bacteria start pairing off like bad kids at an unsupervised party- finding dark corners and empty bedrooms...and they make lots and lots of bad bacteria babies.

7. The evening of day two, begin throwing up. Really do it up right. Un-controllable and projectile are two words that describe what you must aim for. After everything you've eaten for the past four days has been expunged (this will take about three hours), move on to throwing up bright yellow bile (sorry folks, but that's what happens when there's nothing left to puke). Do this for about three hours. By now it's about five in the morning and you can finish up with a couple of hours of dry heaves- you know, the kind where the inside of your belly button almost comes out of your mouth.

8. Day Three Dawns: Don't eat anything today... you don't want to give your body more ammunition. At this point, it helps to think you're just having a bad reaction to the General Anesthesia from the surgery. Realize that your stomach is too tender to move or even touch. Discover that the north end of "Home sweet Home" seems to be spent and you should now start worrying about the south end... better known as "the other side of the tramp stamp (not that I have one!)." Spend day three hobbling back and forth from the bed to the potty with a walker that somebody's grandma used in this room last week, sometimes making it in time, and sometimes not. Allow the humiliation to set in. You are completely weak and dependent. Not to fear, though, bile is still at the party and is ready to Party On, Wayne (Party on, Garth)!

9. Meet the Internist doctor who has been called in to consult. Allow him to prod your stomach like he's kneading a batch of dough. Cry. A lot. Promise to come up out of the hospital bed and personally introduce someone to Jesus if they don't give you more pain medication. Kiss the nurse that brings in the Dilauded drip. As you drift into dreamland, vaguely hear that you've been scheduled for a CAT scan of your stomach.

10. Have your CAT Scan. Allow them to draw gallons of blood for tests. Watch your arms turn a groovy shade of purple and green and yellow (still on Dilauded, remember?) Provide four "separate occurrences" of stool samples so they can count the white blood cells in your stool (I have a new Dirty Job for that guy on TV). Marvel that your body still has anything in it left at all to get rid of... but it does, my friend... it does. Endure another horrible night just like the last.

11. Day Four and Five: Get blood results back and find you've become severely, deathly anemic. Get put on a "NO FOOD OR DRINK diet to give your intestines a break. Have just a sip of water with your oral pills- no more than a couple ounces at a time. Just for fun, for a 24 hour time period lower your blood pressure to 60/30. Run a high fever. Get results of CAT Scan- Colitis. Never heard of it. It means your intestines are severely inflamed. huh. But are they treating you with the right antibiotics? HMMM. How can they find out? Continue diarrhea and next-to-nothing blood pressure. Meet the Gastroentologist called in to find out. Start feeling uneasy knowing something wicked this way comes...

12. Allow the nurses to poke you four times with a heavy grade IV line because your newest drip is going to be thick. In order to achieve this, your whole body must be swollen with all the fluids they've been pumping into you so they can't find your veins. Have your knee doctor tell you that your knee is cleared to go home, but your butt has to stay. Seriously.

13. Just for fun, start your period.

13. Have a blood transfusion. Have another blood transfusion.

14. Get stool results back- Find that you don't have the deathly (literally) wicked bacteria in your colon/intestines- that's the good news- but the bad news is that something is definitely going on in there. And Dr. Gastro is dying to find out what it is. He asks (while you are sitting on the toilet making ungodly noises from all orifices, no less) for consent to do a -gulp- colonoscopy. In your delirium, you agree. Anything to make the poopy stop. Confirm they are going to knock you out.

15. Mentally prepare for medical rape. Not enough time to prepare... they arrive in 15 minutes. Do they really need so many tv screens? Have this conversation with the assistant: (assistant) "So, Angela, do you know what we're going to be doing to you today?" (me) "Yeah, I hear you're going to be sticking something up my butt." (assistant) "Yes, that's about it- minus the medical terminology." Gratefully accept one gram of Dilaudid. Begin procedure. (I'll spare the details here but basically... ick.) Scream, cry, and plead for the doc to stop as he tries to "round a corner of my intestine". Hold procedure. Wait for nurse to bring one more gram of Dilaudid. Wait for a minute for it to kick in, all the while knowing there's a camera up your butt. The procedure goes on and they can go deeper and deeper- finally getting to the infected part- which is covered in ulcers. Watch with druggy fascination. (Again, I won't go into details- but think of the grossest thing you can and multiply that by about 10.) Watch a grabby alligator clip come in and rip off a piece of two separate ulcers. The farther they go, the more there are. Cry with relief when it's over- and feel like you need a scalding hot shower; unfortunately the whole knee surgery thing prevents that. (Oh yeah... I had knee surgery. I forgot.)

16. Day Six: things start to slow down intestinally and your stomach seems to be a tiny bit less tender with decreased stabbing pains. Antibiotics have been changed and increased according to my new diagnosis: Ulcerated Colitis. Start the pills with "good bugs" for your intestines- which have all been killed and flushed... literally. Feel a little perkier from yesterday's blood transfusions. Blood pressure is still low, but not dangerous anymore. Blood work comes back looking good. Get up and walk around a little. Get put on a "Clear Liquid Diet". Drink about a quarter cup of broth, eat some jello (whoever created jello is a GENIUS) and have a Popsicle. Keep it all down (maybe "in" is a better word). Watch the Jerry Springer show and feel better about your own current situation.

17. Day Seven: Get moved up to a liquid diet- eat some unidentifiable soup and keep it where it's supposed to be. Lower your fever to around 99-100*. Raise your blood pressure a little more. Sit through a wound check- which is really swollen but seems to be healing great. Have the Internal medicine doctor come in and tell you he thinks you're on the mend... and that your butt can now go home with your knee. Hooray!

18. Have all IV's disconnected, free yourself from the CPM (Continual Passive Motion) machine, which has now fondly been dubbed the Constant Pain Machine and let your loved ones pack up your stuff. Sign a bunch of papers.

19. Try to fit yourself into a minivan when you cannot lift, bend, or move your giant, pain-filled leg.

20. Make it to home sweet home and sleep on your feather bed with your feather pillow and down comforter. Thank God for His Glorious Protection. Take Valium and Percocet (the dose that was prescribed... don't freak out) and don't wake up until 11am the next day. You don't even have to click your heels three times to know that "There's no place like home!"

Amazing Grace

I recently read one of my favorite blogs, Lori Wilhite's Leading and Loving It and it prompted me to look back at some of the things I've learned since we started this journey in 2005... some of it good, some of it is not so good. Although I'm still figuring out how to deal with this role I've been thrust into- it's good to look back and see a little growth and progress. Here are my thoughts so far:

I’m getting used to being introduced as “the pastor’s wife” and also getting used to people thinking I’m their personal counselor (still learning to draw boundries there).

I’m learning I can’t be everywhere and that I can’t make everyone happy. My husband can't make everyone happy. I’m learning that my main job is to support him and be there for my kids.

I’m learning not to take on my husband's stress as my own, and I’m learning that God is big enough to deal with whatever disaster I think is about to end my world or hurt His church.

I’m learning who my friends are and who they aren’t. I'm learning there are levels of friendship and it hurts for a long time when someone steps down a level because they don't understand the pressure of my situation or they are too pressured themselves to have time for anyone else. I’m learning that I can’t be as open as I used to be and that God has graced me with one girlfriend with whom I can be completely honest.

I'm learning that just because someone is in leadership it doesn't make them right. And it doesn't make them smarter or better able to hear God than I am. I'm learning, as wrong as it is, that there are politics in ministry and there are people who want to see you fail when they let their human emotions take over. I'm learning that it isn't my place to fix them or justify myself to them.

I'm learning there is competition between churches and that this hurts God.

I’m learning to speak up when I feel like He is telling me something and to shut up when I get close to putting my foot in my mouth.

I’m learning I don’t have to have a spotless house and that people are pleasantly surprised when they stop by and my living room has been turned upside down by my son and ten of his best friends... that non-perfect and "normal" are good. I am learning that I can’t stop walking my dog just because we’re busy… that she’s going to continue on the path to doggy morbid obesity unless I get us both out of the house every once in a while.

I am learning to let past hurts go and what it feels like when something rolls off your back because you chose to judge favorably rather than assume the worst. I am learning to forgive the deepest of hurts and to forgive myself for the mistakes I have made.

I am learning to pray for the people God loves that I don’t. I am learning not to listen to gossip and that serving makes my own personal aches and pains go away.

I am learning to love my husband in a different way... as my pastor. I am learning to absorb the unexpected blessings that God sends to us with grace and thanksgiving.

I am learning to really pray for someone when I say I’m going to pray for them.

Most importantly, I’ve learned that God has us here for a reason… even though it seems completely crazy.

And I’ve definitely learned to laugh and laugh and laugh, mostly at myself.

I am grateful for what God is doing in my life- and things seem a little easier when I look at them in terms of the positive. I am growing and learning and moving forward... even though sometimes I do it kicking and screaming and shaking my tiny fist at a great big God. He is so patient with the likes of me... what amazing grace.

ahhhhhh

We made it through Hometown Days. My feet are swollen and aching from being on them for the entire weekend... my lupus is flaring... but, at least for me, calm is on the horizon. Our biggest event of the year is over.

For the next few weeks I am going to concentrate on getting better... having a long awaited knee-replacement surgery, and healing body and spirit. Remembering who I was before I hurt all the time, I hope. Learning to walk correctly again- without throwing everything else off-kilter. Ditching the limp. Dutifully going to therapy, and using crutches for as long as my doctor tells me to without cheating. Everyone says, "Oh how sad... 39 is so young for a knee replacement!" But for me, it's time. It represents a new outlook, a new start. Being active again and not dragging behind. Not dreading things. I can't wait.

Breathing...

Our first Sunday in the tent on our new property was awesome... things came together perfectly and God was there- we baptized nine people! This Sunday is our last week under the tent and then we are back in the school... but I'm to the point now where the catered meal has been ordered and the stress relating to this event is fading away. We have a worship night this Friday under the tent that I'm looking forward to- a lot of people are camping out and spending the night. Should be fun.

My husband has composed his letter to the editor, and it's classy and Christ-like. Not the letter I would have originally fired off, which shows his wisdom and patience in waiting. Now if I can just get him to actually SEND it. He just doesn't see the need to defend himself. The superintendent had a scheduled meeting with all of the teachers in the district today and spoke about the incident and defended my husband, explaining what was really said and the context of the remark and the conversation. He pretty much cleared his name with all of the staff, which was most important to us.

Our son has been working his tail off and is, at this moment, composing his letter of apology to his cousin and his aunt & uncle. Our yard looks amazing; there are perks to grounding and hard labor- for the parents at least! Best of all, we've had a lot of good talks, and we've seen his heart- which is truly repentant.

And God has kept me sane for yet another week... will miracles never cease? Thank you for your prayers.

things that are Stressing Me Out today...

Alternate Title:
"You Know Things are Bad When You Consider Your Upcoming Knee Replacement Surgery A Vacation..."

1. Hometown Days- Our quaint little town's yearly celebration of the wheat harvest. It's pretty fun- a weekend full of events all over our little town including a parade, lots of free food, fireworks, a town dance, yadda yadda yadda. Our church is having to deal with the county over the erection of the same tent that we've erected the past four years except this time it's on our new property- and having to jump through all kinds of ridiculous hoops and pay ridiculous sums of money to make said county happy. (For instance, we have to have EXIT signs on an open-sided tent- and that's not even one of the dumb ones.) Maybe my husband should wear a sign that says "Pastor" just to make sure people aren't confused. Top that off with two weeks of services under a tent in 90* weather, an extra "Night of Worship" service, and a catered meal and you get stress.
2. Having my husband misquoted in the local paper (circulation 7,000)- Did I mention he's the school board president? And a reporter came to their last meeting and grossly misquoted him, making him look like a total arrogant jerk (which he is NOT). We did not initially respond to the paper to correct the mistake because we were hoping this wouldn't be a big deal and that it would blow over with nothing said about it- and we certainly didn't want to call attention to it if it wasn't necessary. Since our passivity, two letters of complaint against my husband have been written to the school superintendent, who is responding to them individually and defending him- telling them what was really said and in what context. Then this week's paper hosted a lovely Letter to the Editor based upon the original mis-quote, making my husband look even jerkier and calling even more attention to the matter. So now we must respond. And respond in a way that doesn't set off a firestorm of letters to the editor back and forth (which people love in our little town). The pressure of writing a perfect letter to END this that will be read by thousands of people looking for juicy gossip. The pressure of people believing what was written and thinking that attitude represents our church. Dealing with the Mama Bear that has risen up in me that wants to protect my husband and my family in the most vocal of ways- which my husband assures me is not the right way to handle this. Grr.
3. My youngest son- He made a mistake so horrible that it has hurt the whole family. It has hurt us- his parents. He has probably lost the trust, respect and friendship of his cousin because of his actions. He hurt his grandparents, his aunts and uncles. He was a follower- participating in a joke that he had no idea of the ripples it would cause and how far out they would go. We are so angry at him, and ashamed and disappointed, and embarrassed. Of course we still love him... we can just barely stand to look at him at this point. He's doing hard labor at our house right now, and he doesn't know this yet, but he's shoveling out horse and dog kennell stalls all day tomorrow (it's good to have friends with large animals). Then on to another day of hard labor at our house. And we aren't through yet. He's losing his facebook, his myspace, and his texting for a year. He's writing a letter to ask for forgiveness to his cousin, who he hurt so deeply. He's writing a letter of apology to his cousin's parents- his aunt and uncle. It is gonna suck to be him. This hurts because my son is NOT a mean kid. But apparently he's a follower- and he is going to learn the consequences of his actions.

Will you pray for us? My husband and me? Our stress right now is so high and we need to stay on the same team... so far, so good. But I'm feeling overwhelmed and like Charlie Brown's cloud is hanging over our heads and raining directly on us. It has been a rough month. I'll be glad when it's August. sigh.

Are you In or Out?

Heard an interesting thought today- many churches (and many of us) are stuck living "in" our faith rather than living "out" our faith.

It's easy to not reach out, to stay comfortable where we're at with our group of Christian friends. It's not so easy to look for the rejects of society- the ones that no one else is going to bring to Jesus. It makes me understand why one active group of people who who seem to be bringing in the "rejects" at our church are the new Christians- because they are their friends and part of their lives. And it is awesome to see.

We're all rejects... all damaged in one way or another. I know I am. God, give me the desire to "out" myself... even when I don't feel like it.

minus one.

I probably lost a friend today because I was honest with her about her behavior; what I said was Godly and true. I cried. She cried. And there are more discussions that have to come with her that I'm dreading. At the very least our relationship is forever changed.

Apart from my husband as a confidant, I have one female friend I feel I can be mostly open with. She has now shown me who she really is in a pretty hurtful way. So I forgive, move on, and withdraw that part of myself. Another light and fluffy friendship... just what I needed. Like most pastor's wives, I have hundreds of those. Someone told me I needed a peer for a friend... another pw from a different church who would understand my position because they are living it too. That just doesn't happen out here where all the churches view each other as competition.

Most human relationships suck. That is my epiphany for the day. Those humans let you down. Not that I haven't ever let anyone down myself... but I am tired of reaching so earnestly for friendship and realizing that people are...people. I know no one is perfect... I don't want perfection... I just want someone I can really trust and be a friend to that loves me enough to be my friend all the time... and not for any particular reason... but just because I'm me.

My husband changed professions and became a pastor and I have never felt so alone.

This can't be what God wants for me: to be the life of the party, always smiling and welcoming, opening my home, the extrovert at church (when in truth, I'm an introvert- a happy clam in my shell), the constant counselor, the supporter, the organizer, the diffuser, the protector of my husband's time and sanity- without a support system I can lean on?

Does God know I have no idea what I'm doing(sounding a little Moses-y here)?

As much as I try protect my husband from some of my angst and dissatisfaction (he has enough to deal with)... I find myself withdrawing and bottling things up more and more. And more than a little angry at this isolation that has entered my life that wasn't there before we made the jump into full time ministry.

Going with the Moses analogy, I don't feel qualified and I'm in the desert pretty much against my will. There was a point for the Israelites, and I know God is faithful and there is a point for me. I just have to figure out what it is. God give me the grace to be patient.

Fuh-rus-ter-ated.

That's it. My inner southern belle came out- I just took a three syllable word and made it five syllables. This is bad. Buh-aaa-d. Oops. Did it again.

I am frustrated with just about every relationship in my life. I'm the only common denominator... and with my southern belle logic I know that means that it's everyone else's fault. They are all crazy.

Why are there so many crazy people in my life? Because it

couldn't

be

me.

Back from a short break...

Took a mental moment~ life has been stressful and I needed to breathe. But I'm back and looking towards a more disciplined blogging life- more blogging, less whining. You see, I now have a super-secret blog journal where whining is allowed and accepted with open arms(mine). That should help.

I'm going to be consolidating down and gathering my writing into a safe place- I have three working blogs and that's at least one too many; I'm spread too thin. Consolidating down and opening up- we'll see what happens. I'm also considering moving this baby over to wordpress- you can do cool things there that you can't here. Just a thought...I'll wait for inspiration to strike and time to stand still so I can get it done. :)

Wanted

Wanted:
One person interested in filling a full time "Nathan" position for semi-new PW. Requirements: friendship, discernment, boldness, availability, no agenda, and love. Must be able to keep mouth shut. Salary: The satisfaction of being a Nathan, and the devoted friendship of said semi-new PW. Please reply to this publication for application. ;)

Who's Your Nathan?

Apparently, I don't have one. I've been scrambling my brain for close to a week now, knowing this question would hit me hard on Sunday. We just started a new message series called Eleven, based on the book by Leonard Sweet. It covers eleven (twelve, really) must-have relationships that everyone needs in their life, and it's pretty awesome.

Wouldntcha' know I struck out on the very first one? This first week deals with the relationship that the Prophet Nathan had with King David in 2 Samuel. Nathan was the person who brought truth and discernment into David's life... whether David asked for it or not. He declared David's eventual victory over Saul. He is the one who annointed David King over Israel- and most certainly rejoiced with him. He got in David's face when he needed to be questioned and burned with holy anger when he confronted David's sin with Bathsheba. He probably wept with him as David laid his innocent son to rest. Over the years spanning their relationship, I'm sure most every emotion was covered.

I've shared previously that it's difficult for me to form relationships where I can really be open and honest. A lot of the people that are in my life I've known for 15 years or so- we've been out here a while and we have lots of friends. But things changed when my husband became their (insert echo voice with movie-theatre sound here) PASTOR. They saw him differently, like it or not. And that means they saw me differently too. I could tell that my friends were suddenly evaluating the things they would say to me... could it be construed as gossip? Would I judge them for saying it or correct them in some embarrassing way? It was subtle, but things changed between us without my wanting or knowing it. It just took me a while to put my finger on what was happening and figure out why. My old friends are all so careful around me. And I don't know that I have a single one of them that would call me out if need be or question my motives.

I'm not whining about a lack of friends. I have friends. Friends I talk to and hang out with, study with, and pray with. It's just that I'm really careful with them too, because I feel like I have to be... it's the fishbowl thing, I think. And erring on the side of protecting our congregation (which probably isn't even my job... I'm sure God is big enough for that all by himself). I do believe I'm real with people, I just don't share all the stuff I'm thinking.

All I'm saying, is... I could hide stuff if I wanted to... and not have anyone know me deep enough to call me out. Granted, I don't have anything to hide... it just makes me sad. Sometimes I'm afraid people like me just because I'm their pastor's wife- but they don't love me enough or know me enough to get in my face should I need it. And I know that isn't good.

Maybe it's time for me to lower some walls- I just don't know who it's appropriate for me to do this with. James 1:5 says "if any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him." So that's what I'm praying for; that's what I want. Wisdom to find my Nathan.

Who is YOUR Nathan?

Up.

I've been up lately. Don't know why... but it's a good place to be. I've been laughing a lot, loving a lot, and enjoying my kids. There are weeks at a time when I have the Charlie Brown cloud that follows me around- but it blew away in the sunshine. I have some worries, but friends are praying with me.

Thanks for this up time, Lord. :) Let's spread it around.

Irrational Fears

#1. The Moth.

I couldn't sleep last night. I have a nagging knee injury awaiting surgery that, if I don't properly medicate before bed, keeps me from sleeping through the night. I was snuggled in bed around 11 last night after a pre-Memorial Day BBQ when I realized that I had not taken my magical sleep medication that helps me sleep through the pain. I was so cozy and tired that I thought, "I'm so cozy and tired that I really don't want to get out of bed to take my magical sleep medication. I'm exhausted and I bet I'll sleep like a baby." Wrong.

So I get up at 3am hurting and unable to sleep. I contemplate taking the magical sleep medication. If I did, I would sleep through most of the day today, and I didn't want to do that... I have flowers to plant, darnit. So I got up, went to the kitchen and took 800 mg. of Ibuprofen and got back in bed waiting for it to kick in. I thought I'd read to pass the time, so I turned on my cute little bedside lamp. I had been reading for all of about 5 minutes when the uninvited guest showed up.

I know exactly why I'm terrified of moths. I made the mistake of watching one of those emergency room real-life medical dramas on TLC years ago. Usually I LOVE those shows... the gorier or stranger the injury, the better... bring on the blood! Unfortunately, I happened across the episode where a sweet little lady was sleeping and a moth crawled into her warm and cozy ear. When she awoke, justiafiably freaked out, she tried to get him out and he burrowed deeper and deeper into her ear. She called her husband who tried to get him out with a pair of tweezers and still he burrowed deeper. Until he was burrowing against her inner ear- making her dizzy and probably scrambling her brain. She ended up in the emergency room where a doctor tried and tried with no success to get the moth out. The sweet little lady began to freak out more because she could feel him wiggling around inside her head, getting cozier by the minute. The doctor eventually had to stick a needle in her ear and inject the moth with valium and put him to sleep and then pull him out piece by little moth piece.

Ever since then, I can't sleep on my side unless whichever ear is facing up is covered with my hair. I know it's weird, but what if there is a moth in my immediate proximity looking for a cozy new condo? Mine is NOT for rent.

So I'm reading, enjoying my book at 3am, waiting to fall back to sleep... and a moth flies in. I get really, irrationally angry at the moth for ending my reading session, because now, I'm still wide awake, and I have to turn off the light quickly so he doesn't come any closer, close my book, and dive under the covers. I figure with a moth that close to me and eyeing my ear canal, going under the covers was much safer than merely covering my ear with my hair. So I laid awake, under the covers, for another 20 minutes, fuming at this moth.

Unfortunately, my Irrational Fear #1 (The Moth) was complicated by my Irrational Fear #2- Breathing Warm Air Under The Covers (you never know what kind of warm air you're going to get under the covers in the bed I share with my husband). In this instance, self-preservation took over... that is why all of my Irrational Fears are ranked... so that if more than one Irrational Fear is involved in any given situation and I must think quickly, I know that the lower the number... the higher priority of that particular Irrational Fear.

How did this end, you ask? Well, as far as I can tell, my condo(s) remain unoccupied and I finally fell asleep around 3:30 with an angry expression on my face (I can only assume it was angry as it was also very dark under the covers and the only person I could ask was snoring loudly, completely unaware of my terror). Some day, I will discuss my Irrational Fear #2 and what brought me to that horrific realization... but alas, that is a post for another day. Tell me I'm not alone and that you have Irrational Fears too...

Happy Memorial Day!

Always "ON"

I think my OFF switch is broken.

My husband doesn't have an off switch... he thrives on being "ON". He's an "ON" kinda guy.

I keep telling God that he surely made a mistake in the making of me- seeing as he knew ahead of time (and didn't do ANYTHING to stop it, mind you) that I would eventually go from being a married pregnant teenager lucky to finish high school to a pastor's wife. The mistake being that my OFF switch is permanently set to ON in this new position of a little over three years now. I tried to get His attention about a year into the ministry... letting him know that my OFF switch was broken... that I was rebelling a little (ok, I got a tattoo at 38)... but I think He just smiled at me and said, "Hey, nice tat. That's really going to speak to the wayward souls you'll be reaching! I can use that!"

For a person who revels in her "offness", the permanancy of my need to remain ON for the masses is truly exhausting. Sundays, especially when there is an event following church, are the equivalent of running a marathon for me. Not that I'm whining... I know God has placed me here- and he is working through my husband- and through me... I couldn't, no wouldn't be doing this otherwise. I am going with His plan.

But, I love my bed. You see, the bed (mine in particular) is the universal symbol of the "OFF" switch... and I love my bed. I especially love reading a book in my bed surrounded by pillows. I love peace and quiet... and being left alone. I love my family and our lack of huge problems... apart from the regular little day-to-day stuff. I love hanging out with my dog- who never burdens me with her problems, by the way, and I love being alone. I don't have a lot of friends I talk to honestly- though I have a million that I talk with every day... and honestly, sometimes... people bother me. There are days that I don't like them all that much. And this can be a problem because, you see,

My OFF switch is broken. It's hard to lay in my comfortable bed with the softest sheets in the world and read my favorite book surrounded by pillows and my quiet dog when I have to be ON for all the meetings and people with problems who need things all of the time. Even when I am laying in bed the phone is ringing or the door is being knocked upon and even if it isn't.... I'm waiting for it to. Which kind of ruins me enjoying what is supposed to be my OFF time.

Can I just say it? I want my switch fixed. I want some defined time for me and my family. I'm tired of people. There. That makes me feel a little better. It doesn't fix anything, but I feel slightly naughty having said it and THAT makes me feel better. :)

Prayer Request

A couple in our church are new Christians- in the past year or so. They are former druggies and have both been recently baptized and got married about three months ago after having a child together and living together for a couple of years. They have tried so hard to be faithful and are serving in the church and learning and growing.

She is in the process of having a miscarriage and is really questioning why God would allow this to happen- extremely upset of course... Her faith seems to be shaken in her grief.

Will you pray with me for Tanya and Jim? Pray for her safety and strength and peace beyond understanding and that God becomes very real to them in the midst of this.

How do you spell a SCREAM? AAAGGGHHH?

Yeah, I think that works!

Our church has just completed the three week Dave Ramsey series (thank you, Lifechurch.tv!) and it was soo good. We have ten new lifegroups starting with over 60 couples signed up to go through the 13 week small group series-we start that next week. It's very exciting around here. Things are buzzing.

And of course Satan hits us right in our collective cohonas, as my husband so eloquently puts it (Personally, I didn't know that I possessed any cohonas at all...collective or not... but he said that comes with the whole marriage/oneness thing. Go figure.). Our finances are stretched so tightly right now, I could floss my teeth with them.

We just took a trip to visit son #1 for Parent's Weekend at his Christian college two states away- which cost an arm and a leg- factoring in gas, eating out, and hotel.

Right before we got there, our lovely son #1, who we just spent several hundred dollars to go see, got a ticket. He was planning to be able to pay for it with his "job". What job, you ask? He gives plasma twice a week (it's quite the trend among the college kids)- and was banking on that to pay for his ticket. Don't get me wrong, I don't like the thought of my son prostituting his plasma all over Joplin... but he struggles with school- always has- and I don't know that he could hold down a "real" job and still pass his classes. It's yet to be proven anyway.

Enter low white blood cell count. Now his Plasma Pimps won't let him give plasma for two months now. So, he now has no way to pay for his ticket that has to be paid before he leaves, which is... did I mention, NEXT WEEK?

And then there's son #2, who very responsibly got his homework and books and everything he needed so he could stay caught up in school while we took our little trip. We're talking a 50 pound backpack here. Oh, and his large-and-in-charge "Zombie Killing" jacket (don't ask- just know that if you don't have one, you should get one very, very soon). He also very responsibly got all his homework done on the 12 hour drive to visit son #1. What a good boy. We're so proud.

Then son #2 left said 50 pound backpack and large-and-in-charge Zombie Killing jacket in son #1's car trunk. You guessed it. We figured it out when we were unpacking the car after our 12 hour drive home.

Enter UPS and two-day shipping. To the tune of $65.00, because it's the end of the semester and son #2 has to have his work turned in no later than Monday.

Seriously. So after the money we just spent on the trip, add a mortgage payment and some random utility bills, a speeding ticket, and a special box delivered by a man in little brown shorts...and (plug your ears)...

AAAGGGHHH!!!!!!!!!

Creative Team Retreats ROCK!

So, we got away this weekend- all the staff and wives and went to my mom's house up in the mountains. We spent all day Friday and most of the day Saturday eating my mom's amazing food- nothing like Southern cookin' to bring out the creativity!

We were able to plan out the rest of the year's series and had a super-fun time slumber-party style. We even watched Young Frankenstein late Friday night, which the two older couples discovered isn't near as funny to the young 20-somethin' whippersnappers- our youth pastor and his wife.

Our greatest success? We came up with a series on Priorities that we're all so excited about- the weekly topics are: Fellowship, Discipleship, Relationship, and Stewardship. Series Title: "Get Your Ship Together!" We played with others as well: "Ship Happens"... "When the Ship Hits the Fan"... and of course "No Ship, Sherlock" (ok, it was getting pretty late by then)... Can't wait to design the graphics for this!

Our Baptist Worship Pastor made the comment that he was so glad we weren't part of an official denomination so they couldn't tell us not to do this! LOL

On another note, we are heading towards rapidly outgrowing our elementary school facility- we had 456 people this morning (We've been averaging between 390 and 400since before Christmas.). We are doing a high-impact series right now- I know that's brought a lot of new people in- we're showing the Life Church 3-week Dave Ramsey videos (which are AMAZING) and are going into the 13 week Financial Peace University small group curriculum- we have 9 new small groups forming- so we do feel that because of developing relationships, a lot of these new people will be staying with us! Pray with me that we pay for our land quickly and can move on to the next step- the building! God is doing amazing things!

Walking the tightrope...

For six weeks, I have had an extra son. A family in our church is crumbling before our eyes and it seems that nothing we say is helping.

They are a blended family- married for over ten years. She brought a boy and a girl into the marriage and so did he. The kids grew up together- they are all teenagers now with the youngest girl (his) in the eighth grade and the oldest son (hers) is a junior. For all intents and purposes, they looked like the Brady Bunch.

But they weren't.

Six weeks ago, the youngest girl accused the oldest boy of repeatedly molesting her from the time she was seven years old. She told the school librarian, who took her straight to the principal who went straight to social services and the police.

That was when the Brady Bunch turned into "mine" and "yours". The first night, mom brought the son over to our home- he was angry- she was in shock- and asked if he could stay with us. We said, "Of course" without thinking twice. We know and love the family and all of the kids.

He has been with us, as I said, for six weeks. Through the social services investigation in which the girl clammed up and refused to repeat her story. Through multiple counselors- for the boy, the girl, the marriage... it's been a high-anxiety, stress-filled mess to be in the middle of. They have received differing advice as to whether the son can come back into the home with his step-sister who accused him. The fighting between the families is dirty.

Both parents are trying to do the best for their child... I get that... but neither is compromising or thinking of the other child (or their spouse). Dad doesn't think the girl is lying... Mom doesn't think there's any way it happened and refuses to bring her son back into the home so she can protect him- but she's still been living at home at her husband's insistance.

Our role in this has been like walking a tightrope- trying to be there and offer sound advice to both parents and a bunch of hurting kids... emotionally exhausting. Not to mention having to keep track of another kid. Mom and Dad both want to think we are on "their" side. It's been so hard to stay neutral. My husband and I have a pretty firm opinion on whether or not anything really happened- but only two people will know for sure until somebody confesses to either lying or committing the acts.

Yesterday, mom got an apartment to move into with her kids. So, two kids have lost another mom, and two have lost another dad. The situation seems impossible. I know that nothing is too hard for God... but this is going to take a miracle.

I'm praying for one.

Living life with the right kind of broken heart...

It’s what we’re supposed to do. Have a heart that breaks for those who don’t know Him…help them come to know Him…see them with His eyes, His compassion, His heart. Until the Heart of Christ is your very own. I have this heart most of the time… when my head is in charge.

But sometimes, when I lay my head on the pillow, things get foggy, and I lose the control that I have fought so hard for.

My imperfect heart has areas not surrendered and breaks for other things as well… things that are of my own selfish heart and not of His. Things that look past the blessings that have been given to me and still cry for more. Things that push me, tempt me, drag me in the wrong direction. What if I cannot conquer my own heart? What if I live my life with a heart that is broken for the wrong reasons?

This is not what I want… a self-ruled heart only brings pain, pain, and more pain. And it’s all the harder because actions do not give it away, my mind holds those in check… my heart rebels stealthily in my thoughts and dreams.

Romans 7:23-25 describes the problem perfectly and Romans 8:1-14 tells us how to solve it. I love this passage as it’s written in The Message translation… completely in-your-face.

But, how to get from point A to point B? I have confessed, begged, prayed to be released from the desires of my heart… and yet they stay. I have prayed to only want His will… and yet mine remains. I wrestle with it daily. I give it up daily. I strangle it daily. I mourn daily. In my humanity, I am at a loss… my heart and my head locked in a battle for control.

So, I go through the motions. I do what I should do, because it’s the right thing… because it’s what God wants. And every day, I wake up and try. Every day I re-surrender. Some days I do well, and some days I don’t. I live in prayer and know that no part of me is hidden from Him. I will wait patiently for my rescue… which may only come at the end of this life… whichever comes first, I will embrace it gladly in the warmth of His grace.

Pray with me...

We just had a sweet baby girl born to a young couple from our church, their first, with suspected Down's Syndrome. The doctors are calling in a geneticist for further testing. Pray for health for the baby and peace for mom and dad... I'll keep you posted- mom, especially is having a really hard time.

Which Will Win?

Ugh. I'm so miserable... I've been up since 3:00- it's about 5am now... with a sinus infection that will NOT go away. I'm going on day 8.

I had a hilarious friend that used to try to inspire my then 8th grade daredevil of a son that the perfect Science Fair project would be to take lots of Immodium and lots of a laxative... and then take scrupulous notes to find out which would "win". I told my son he was welcome to try that experiment... at my friend's house- who could then be the Executive in Charge of Clean-Up. Somehow, thank goodness, that experiment was never carried out.

I just tried my own little experiment after days of sheer sleep depravation- Mucinex (whose commercials I HATE... who uses a booger as their mascot? seriously.) vs. Sudafed. A "let 'em loose" vs. a "stop 'em up".

I wonder which will win?

The Fixer-Upper

Give me a problem and I can fix it… sometimes even better than God Himself. There are times I know His will even better than He does, and when He doesn’t act fast enough, I’m right there to help Him along. If He says “wait.”… I know that He doesn’t really mean it and I go ahead and fix it anyway.

Of course I’m being facetious… kind of. I don’t actually assume that I can “fix” broken things better than God… I just play someone who assumes that on TV. Sigh.

In my Bible study this week, I was reading about God’s promise to Abram that his wife Sarai would bear him a son long after menopause had destroyed what little hope she had that her closed womb would be opened. This promise, unbeknownst to Abram and Sarai, wouldn’t be fulfilled for ten years or so… which would put her at the oh-so-fruitful childbearing age of about 75.

I understand Sarai; she was a fixer-upper too. And ten years is a long time to wait. I don’t like to wait ten minutes – I’m a “git ‘er done” kind of gal. After years of waiting and hoping and praying, she took the situation into her own hands and gave her maidservant to Abram to fulfill God’s promise for Him (He really did take a long time)… and this opened up a whole new can of worms… um, can you say cat-fight? Read all about it in Genesis 16.

I have a situation in my life right now where I’m pretty sure God is telling me to wait- and I’m so tempted to barge right in and try to fix it. There is this thing in my life that I desperately want to fix: a broken relationship with someone important to me. At least, I think it’s broken… out of the blue, there is no communication. I’ve tried to initiate it over the past couple of months with no response back… completely not understanding what’s going on. I don’t know if I’ve done something or haven’t done something. I have apologized, not knowing what, if anything, I’m apologizing for. I don’t see this person on a regular basis, so it’s not like I can get a good feel for what’s going on.

I miss my friend and it hurts.

I so wish I understood. Was the relationship not healthy for me? Is God pruning this from my life? Is He saving me from something? I just want to know. I’m sure Sarai did too. I’m sure she obsessed and worried over it- which I am also prone to do… am doing… if I want to be honest with myself.

As far as I know, I’ve done all that I can- and that God is asking me to be still. To w… w… wa… wait. There. I said it. I know all the scriptures - Proverbs 3:5, Psalm 46:10, and so many, many more. It is just so tempting to dive in- to try to FIX this.

At this point, I think it comes down to obedience for me. Will I obey God, or will I barge in?

Sigh.

I. Will. Wait.

Easter Weekend 2009

Just so I don't forget that this is all worth it... all the hard work, the stress, the practices, working two 70+ hour weeks in a row... here are our stats for the weekend:

Our Good Friday service attendance was 215-
Today's Easter Sunday attendance was 619-
and best of all, 24 people accepted Christ for the first time today...

I like to think of it in these terms: 834 souls came to church this weekend to hear about Jesus. Out here in our little podunk town... well, that's pretty amazing. God is doing a great work here... and we need to stay out of His way- killing all ego and pride. We stand in awe of our amazing God- and can't wait to see what He has planned next.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go sleep for the next 36 hours straight! :)

My Word(s) of the Day

Today I spent time wondering about the relationship between the paradox and the paradigm. It certainly does make me sound smart, doesn’t it… just pondering intelligent-sounding words like that? It was a little confusing at first, so I turned to my trusty online dictionary. Here is what I found on the word paradigm:

Paradigm: (n) 1. an example of a conjugation or declension showing a word in all its inflectional forms.

Huh? Let’s just skip down to the next one: 2. an outstandingly clear or typical example or archetype. Ohhhh. Well, why didn’t you just say that in the first place?

And then there’s the paradox: (n) 1. one (as a person, situation, or action) having seemingly contradictory qualities or phases; a statement opposed to common sense that is true.

Now let’s practice using them correctly!

Truly Random Example #1:
I represent a paradigm as a pastor’s wife: following the pattern of all gracious and loving wives of pastors before me… caring, friendly, selfless, a lover of women’s ministry and all things having to do with lace and tea parties, ever pulled-together, and of course gracious and generous to a fault.
The paradox of this example might be that I am currently pms-ing my brains out (uh, yeah… I used pms-ing as a verb… don’t argue with me today… seriously.) and I might not be the greatest person to be around right now.

Truly Random Example # 2:
It is a paradox that no matter how hard I try to be nice and make someone feel included, and no matter how genuine I am, that they may have the pre-conceived paradigm image of me that it doesn’t matter whether I’m nice to them or not… because I have “to be nice to everyone.” It is a paradox that I have invested my time, my heart, and myself into a friendship that I felt was very real… that the other person considered a farce… all because of her paradigm.

Shifts happen. I know this. And I know the lady mentioned in “truly random example # 2” needs a paradigm shift. I’m just wondering if I’m the one who’s supposed to help her have it. The problem is, I’m too hurt at the moment to think of all I invested that was taken as gold-plated and put in the penny box at the garage sale.

Granted, Truly Random Example # 1 did not help me better accept Truly Random Example # 2 when it reached my ears via a well-meaning friend. Darn those well-meaning friends… she should have let me continue along happily in my own blissful paradigm image that I had established a wonderful, new friendship.

Oh, and… ah-hem… “The events, characters, and Truly Random Examples depicted in this blog are fictitious. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or real Truly Random Examples is purely coincidental... For entertainment purposes only.”

And the prior statement, my friends, was a paradox. Ok, I think I get it now.

sigh...

We've been in the throes of a blizzard for two days- it finally let up this morning. Trapped in the house with two stir crazy boys (one of them is 40)... aaaggghhhh! Me? So content to curl up and read and not think about the things I'm not letting myself think about... things I miss.

I'm not looking forward to this week- rehearsals for two different dramas every night- a Good Friday service... and then Easter Sunday... I'm going in tired- I have lost about 12 pounds in the last three months... which was needed... stress has its benefits. So does having only four staff members... you have to do it all yourself.

I've been too busy/down/distracted to write for several days... I just haven't had it in me. Hence the little break. Sometimes the rigors of ministry can completely suck the joy of the holidays right out of me.

The way I'm whining... you'd think it was time for a Slushie Run... our traditional pick-me-up with friends, family, and any senior higher who has suffered a devastating break-up... :) yeah. A Route-44 lemonberry sounds good right about now...

Centrifugal Forces...

After a great weekend full of celebrations and sign-raisings, I find myself struggling again on Monday morning.

I couldn't really put my finger on what it was- except for the fact that my head feels like it's going to explode from sheer centrifugual force, if that makes any sense. It makes sense to me... I feel like my brain is going round and round so quickly... so full of other people and their problems exploding in on me... problems between people in the church body... problems in my own little family... stress from relationships that I know aren't ok... did what I said offend this person... why haven't they been here for the past couple of weeks... are these jeans too tight to wear to church... how am I going to get that grape juice stain out of the school carpet... why do my new shoes seem to make my feet stink... what can I fix for dinner tonight that everyone will like... shouldn't I have more than $100 in my checking account... will the books for the next bible study get here in time... what if our easter program bombs... why are there already weeds in my yard when the grass isn't even alive yet... is my sister doing ok as she parents our nephew... how long is the kid that's living with us going to actually live with us (that's another blog)... seriously, my feet haven't stunk since jr. high gym... how are we going to cram over 600 people into the elementary cafeteria in only two services... you get my drift.

I looked up centrifugal and here's what it said: 1. proceeding or acting in a direction away from a center or axis.

That's probably exactly what I'm doing. I'm off-center and I need to spend some time with my Jesus to get back to where I belong so that my brain will stop going 100 miles per hour. I need to re-focus... to stop thinking about problems the people in our lives and our congregation continually bring us to bear with them, finances, our church's next steps, my stinky feet, and everything else that's spinning around in there and just be with Jesus.

If you'll excuse me... I have a hot date. :)

HE (the big one) Did It!

By the Grace of God, our church owns 38 acres! Thank you, Lord, for your goodness! Off to celebrate...

If all goes well...

Our little church will have property today. We are supposed to close on it at 3pm- barring any glitches or surprises. 38 beautiful acres... right off the highway... at a miracle of a price. It was over 1 million dollars (doing my Dr. Evil finger to the mouth thing) less than a year ago... and the owner agreed to sell it to us for $165,000.00. Seriously. If that isn't a God thing... then I don't know what is.

Join us in prayer that all goes smoothly and according to HIS will...

A Pox on You, Power Surge!

Fatalities: One motherboard (mine) and one 40G External Hard Drive (husbands). My data was recovered (although my computer is still toast) but his wasn't... and his hard drive was almost full...message notes, video, graphic design work... you name it. I know, I know...we have now officially learned the off-site back-up lesson. Carbonite, here we come- tails between our legs. We knew better.

The ridiculously smug Geek Squad goober named Irwin told me I could now officially use my laptop as a block to keep a car from rolling down the driveway (insert nasal laugh here). Would God have considered it a sin if I had punched Irwin in the nose at this point in the conversation or could it have possibly been classified as "righteous anger"? If it's the latter... I'm headed back to Best Buy to find me some Irwin...

Bi-Polar Bear Attacks, Several Injured

Yet another bi-polar bear attack on the Eastern Plains of Colorado yesterday. This strange phenomenon has been occurring with greater frequency, leaving local residents and church-goers frightened and searching for answers. This time, a younger, smaller bear attacked after a youth meeting at the student pastor's home. His wife was injured and reduced to tears, but is recovering well.

It has been wondered what is attracting the seemingly large Bi-Polar Bear population to this particular church on the Eastern Plains- with experts offering up the fact that help has been offered through this particular venue via the means of a Depression and Bi-Polar Support Alliance Support Group. This successful group has indeed, helped many Bi-Polar Bears to reduce the frequency and severity of their attacks, but as with domesticated wild animals, the tendencies of their nature occasionally surface and attacks occur.

While it is tempting to attempt to reduce the population of the Bi-Polar Bears because of their continual disruptions,conservationists and area leaders alike acknowledge that this is not the solution to the problem. "If the Bears are chased away, they will just travel to other areas and inflict new injuries when the human population is perceived to have let them down, as is destined to happen", a local resident said. In response to this seemingly constant problem, leaders are learning to deal with the bears on a trial-and-error basis with the help of experts. In turn, they do their best to offer loving counsel and acceptance balanced with accountability for their actions. Striking this balance is not easy, especially with the younger Bears who have raging hormones and little idea of how to deal with their condition.

One such bear is expected to arrive at Youth Group tonight and will be dealt with lovingly and firmly, after having had a chance to decompress from her latest attack. Injuries will be discussed and strategies for coping examined together. Leaders and experts alike are hoping for success in tonight's venture.

Prayers are being accepted for the leadership and for the care and feeding of the Bears. All donations will be put to good use and are greatly appreciated.

am I allowed to say this?

Does a benevolent, loving, longsuffering, patient, virtuous, amazingly intuitive pastor's wife ever get ticked at her husband? Probably not.

But since that doesn't really describe me... I'm going there...

And, boy, am i ever ticked at my husband right now.

Grrr.

Just saw Phantom of the Opera for the first time...

I cried as the curtain went up... the set was so beautiful and made me think about my "other" life... the one I dreamed of....

Amazing, wonderful experience... and I couldn't resist doing a little acting myself after the show... (ok, I was a little more into it than my husband.)

sigh...

deja vu-

Getting ready to clean the house for tonight's bible study. I'm not really looking forward to being the consummate hostess again- I know I'll enjoy it once we get going- just ready to take a break I guess. We still have two more weeks after this one and then we'll take a couple weeks off after meeting for eleven weeks straight... I'm proud of us all!

Might I Suggest an 11th Commandment?

Aaahhhem: "Thou Shalt have the back of thy minivan supernaturally protected whenever thou backest into a basketball goal post at a semi-high rate of speed whilst serving a meal to the homeless with thy church body."

What do you think?

Thank you, anonymous...

Today a woman I had never seen before stopped by the office and dropped a gift off for me- a beautiful leather-bound NIV Life Application Study Bible with a super-cool and cute carrying case for it! An anonymous card came with it spilling praises and encouragements that I will never feel worthy of. How it brightened my day!

Here is how my brand new Bible came to live with me:

There were several of us chatting before my Tuesday night Bible Study- talking about terrible gifts our husbands have given us (my girlfriend just got a 10 lb. wheel of cheese for her birthday... seriously.) and how they never take hints. As I was laughing about the cheese wheel... I threw out a that I had been hinting to the Mr. about getting me a Life Application Bible year after year at Christmas... and he never took it. I said I was now the only one in our home who didn't own one. Someone else jumped in at that point and told their story. I never gave the conversation a second thought.

And then this Thursday morning... in walks my new Bible, wrapped in mystery.

Since I can't write a proper thank-you note (as any good Southern girl would do), I will do my best to pay it forward! Thank you, whoever you are, for your generosity and thoughtfulness!

On Being Creative~

One of the best things that we learned from our founding church was to be purposefully creative. Every week we have a creative team meeting and work on the upcoming messages- pulling in creative elements where we can. Whether it's music, drama, a video, or props... we have tons of fun. Our team has been growing and I've found... the more, the merrier! The more ideas that get thrown into the pot... the more you have to pull from. We have a "no kill zone" on Tuesday mornings around here- even the silly ideas get mentioned, because sometimes it's those ideas that spark the really good ones.

At this point, I have a monologue to write on doubt and a drama for Easter Sunday to pull together... along with some other miscellaneous odds and ends.

We're about a six weeks out on our messages right now and trying to get farther ahead so we have more time to plan- but with only four staff members, that's actually pretty good for us.

Does your church do anything like this? How do your services come together?