- A Change of Face
- Thoughts From the Middle of the Night
- Back to School
- What’s In A Name?
- Welcoming Jack
- Photo Essay: 100 Days of Jack
- Commuting
- Crazy Is Our Normal
- Adoption? Really?
- We Couldn’t Help Ourselves
- Book Envy
- Snow Day
- Playing the Pregnant Card
- And then there’s that…a summary of a crazy day
- Bringing Change
A Change of Face
“In honor of you getting a hair cut today, I’m trying a new do too. What do you think?” Jerry said as I worked at my computer. I turned around and fixed my eyes on his hair, trying hard to discern a difference. Just as I feared I was about to lose major wife points by not noticing the difference, he pointed to his chin.
My husband had a fu manchu.
After we both contained our laughter, he shaved it down to the Ron Swanson mustache that he had been desperately wanting for some time. Fortunately, we both agreed that the molestache is not his style and off it went. While it is an adjustment for me (Jerry has always had a beard since I’ve known him), I think Jack is having the harder time figuring out who this man is with his father’s voice and a very unfamiliar face.
Back to School
I’m going back to school. Well, kinda. I don’t have to don a backpack or make a p.b. and j and put it in a Transformers metal lunchbox. I’ll attend class from the comfort of my couch with a cup of coffee in my hand. I’m beginning University of Missouri’s Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages program. As part of that, our teachers asked us to write an introduction about where we grew up and our dreams. It was fun to write. I hope it’s fun to read:
I was born in a town of 900 people where everybody basically looked alike, thought alike, and acted alike. Thirty years later I moved across the ocean to a town of 1.5 million people where everybody basically looked alike, thought alike, and acted alike. I liked the second place better than the first, so I want to go back there. In the middle I dreamed of being everything from a fireman to a professional wrestler to a doctor to a preacher. I tried some of those things, and I have the scars to prove it. Today, I’m still balancing the urge to be responsible and figure out what I want to be when I grow up and the desire to never grow up.
Here’s to milk mustaches!
Commuting
Being 38 weeks pregnant, I have a new found respect for Mary and anyone else who rode 100 miles on a donkey this late in the game. My 5 minute commute pales in comparison, even if I did catch every red light (which doesn’t matter when there are only 3 lights). I wonder how many times Joseph had to stop the donkey for a bathroom break?
Crazy Is Our Normal
We’re moving…again. We knew we’d have to move sometime this fall, but a few factors moved up the time table, and we suddenly found ourselves driving around town last week looking for a place to rent.
Even though a cross-town move isn’t that ridiculous in the grand scheme of life (even with the impending birth of our firstborn son), life isn’t exactly calm around here. Crazy is just our normal.
We’re studying through Philippians at church, and as I reflect on the myriad of reactions I could have to potentially stressful situations swirling around us, I keep coming back to 1:12: “Now I want you to know, brothers, that what has happened to me has really served to advance the gospel.”
May that be my knee-jerk reaction to complications of life. I confess it isn’t often the first.
While there are many details to be dealt with as we move and take on some new roles in life and work and ministry, I pray that I would care less about how inconvenienced something might make me and care more about how Jesus can be lifted up in the situation.
Do my words to others about life’s realities reflect honestly laced with trust in his faithfulness? Am I being intentional to care for and love new neighbors? Am I allowing Him to refine my heart through prayer and his word?
God certainly isn’t blind to the harsh realities of our lives, and he doesn’t ask us to be either. Learning to trust him and honor him through it (not outside it) is where worship becomes a genuine outflow of our hearts and not just a mental assent from our lips.
We Couldn’t Help Ourselves
We’ve been at the Adopting for Life conference yesterday and today. In coming days, I’m looking forward to synthesizing some posts on all God is working in my heart and mind, but for now, here’s one take away. We thought we’d just adopt a bus full. They even put our name on the side.
Just kidding.
Kuddos to Jay K. for the photo.
Book Envy
As a wintry mix falls outside, my husband and I sit on opposite couches doing something we often do on Sunday morning: read. I’m reading Adopted for Life, which I borrowed from a friend last night. Jerry is neck-deep in Grudem’s Systematic Theology amidst a few other titles.
Jerry is always generous in showing his affection toward me (he made me breakfast this morning…isn’t he sweet?), but as I caught him looking longingly my way a few minutes ago, I knew it had more to do with the book in my hands than with me. We both enjoy reading, but Jerry far outpaces me in this aspect. At any given time, he has 20 books sitting on the end table, and a smattering of other selections scattered throughout the house. Yet somehow, his appetite for books is never satisfied.
Jerry: What’s your ERT?
Me: My what?
Jerry: Your Estimated Reading Time. I want to read that book when you are done.
Me: You got three new books last night. I got one. Stay away from my book.
Jerry: Okay. But, can you hurry?
It’s maddeningly endearing to me.
Snow Day
This winter has brought many firsts for me, like the first time to shovel a walk or first time to spin out of control while driving in the snow. And while, that is all well and good, this Florida girl still appreciates the sun. I also appreciate that God made seasons and that when I’m weary of the downsides of the current situation, we have hope that change will soon come.
Playing the Pregnant Card
After sitting at my desk for several hours one day last week, I looked down to discover that I was wearing brown fleece-lined mocs with my black dress pants. Oops. While I would like to justifiably blame my mismatched shoes on the malady most people term “pregnancy brain,” the truth is that I probably am no more forgetful or clumsy than I was several months ago.
In the first trimester, I really was sick all the time, and I still find it hard to believe that grilled chicken and vegetable soup could elicit such a violent response from my body. I grew acclimated to eating whatever didn’t make me sick (there weren’t many things on the list). However, even after starting to feel better again, I have no qualms with eating large amounts of french fries and cinnamon rolls. The truth is that I always love to eat french fries and cinnamon rolls, but now I have an excuse that many consider justifiable.
I’m great at justifying things I want to do, and not just in pregnancy. Justification as I like to use it, however, is frequently just a fancy way of shifting blame for my poor choices to something seemingly out of my control. Unfortunately most of my blame-shifting has much uglier manifestations than an affinity for unhealthy food. God has made me much more aware of my own ability to just take responsibility for things I do. Even if the environmental factors are out of my control (a person’s words or attitudes to me, for example), my response is entirely mine.
So, I’m doing my best to avoid blame shifting the ugly words and attitudes that pop out so often, and I probably should make an effort to eat a little better too. That isn’t to say that I am giving up french fries, but more often than not, I should probably attribute my food choices to personal preference instead of inescapable biological realities.
Hmmmm, I wonder if I should brave the snow to make happy hour at Sonic. I’m craving I sure do love Diet Vanilla Coke…
And then there’s that…a summary of a crazy day
Today comprised a series of episodes, each that could demand their own blog entry or photo recap. In favor of being brief, here are the highlights:
7:30 a.m. - We shared a blueberry pancake breakfast with out some friends from out of town, during which we were able to talk through some exciting things about future directions.
3:30 p.m. - We’re no the road to visit our friends Nate and Haley, and I feel Jack kicking. Jerry gets to feel him with one hand on my belly, one hand holding his cell phone, and one knee very firmly guiding the steering wheel.
5:30 p.m. - Dinner at a random Chinese restaurant where we enjoyed talking to the staff.
7:45 p.m. - While Jerry is dozing in the passenger seat, we get a flat. As we get out of the car in freezing temps, we realize we’ve stopped where every cow in Indiana does their business. It stinks.
8:10 p.m. - We’re back on the road.
8:11 p.m. - Remember the scene in Tommy Boy where the hood of the car flips up and flies into the windshield while they swerve all over the road? No, I’m not making this up. We just re-enacted it. For some reason, we popped the hood when we stopped and never latched it back.
8:12 p.m. - We’re trying to make the hood fit back where it once went without much success. At least the cracks in the windshield aren’t too bad.
8:45 p.m. - After a stop at the gas station where Jerry was banging car parts back into place with a hammer, we’re back on the road with a donut tire in the back and a bungee cord holding down our contorted car hood.
9:30 p.m. - We made it, and finally got to enjoy the company of friends we love. God really is good to us.
The Joys of Houston
Jerry and I are in Houston this week with a group of students. Yesterday, we heard a pastor talk about how our disappointments (and changed schedules) are often God’s divine appointments (ie, he has other plans). Today offered ample opportunity for us to see that in motion, as our plans changed several times, and I look forward to sharing later in the week some of the awesome ways a local pastor is walking in obedience and seeing transformation come to some of the worst neighborhoods in the city.
On a not-so-serious note, I’ve heard Jerry talk about “the glory of the taco truck” for quite some time, and today I got to experience the joy for myself. I won’t lie. It was tasty. Rumor is I might have gone back for another helping, but I can neither confirm or deny this report.
