Music

Intoxicating.

Walks you through a memory as if you were there. Even more sureal than a dream. Scents included.

Brings back every memory of a moment. The details. The leather seats of a car, the smell of the cloth hood, what was in the plastic caddy on the floor between the seats, the tape in the tape deck, the words being sung...the memory.

How can music make me remember every vidid, blessed detail, about everything?

Other things I may forget, or they may fade, but if music is involved it's vividly sketched onto and into my heart and mind and soul, and forever.

Why is that? (This is retorical, don't want an answer, b/c I love it the way it is).

It can bring tears; the warmth of an everlasting fire; a car ride; a personality; a loved one lost; it can make you hold the hand of someone without them actually being there; it can bring cold, cold shivers; it can bring tears of guilt, tears of joy, tears of saddness; it can be your best friend when no one is around; God can speak through music.

Music is a love.

Each song a new espisode, if you're on shuffle; a new friend brought to mind, a brother and his whereabouts laid upon you; someone you need to visit; someone you need to share with; someone you need to be honest with; someone you need to laugh with; someone who needs to laugh with you; someone who needs to get to know you again and vice versa. Don't we always need to get-to-know each other again and often?

I do.

Love your music. Play your music. Get new music often.

jag

Have Yourself a Simple Little Christmas

This spurred from my previous post about the origins and WHYs of Christmas.

We should all try to simplify our Christmas this year to focus on the real meaning. The current state of the economy, may aid your willingness to do so this year, but that's okay.
I vividly remember sitting in an old computer chair at our desk in our rent house several years ago, just balling. Bleary-eyed, I stared at my checking and savings account balances on our computer screen, as my tears slid down my face and danced on my Christmas list of things I wanted to buy for everyone. I couldn't do it. Not even with what I had in savings. There was no way I could afford our bills, and all of Christmas. I was devastated.
A wise man, not a magi from the east, but a very wise man walked into the room. I turned my head and to the side, so as to hide my tears from him.

Wise man: What are doing?
Cryer: Nothing (sniffling).
Wise man: What? Are you crying? What's wrong with you?
Cryer: (I burst into tears as I responded). I'm balancing my account and looking at my savings, and I can't afford Christmas! Hardly anything.
Wise man: What?!?! (I'm smiling for those of you who know this wise man, b/c you'll be able to hear his tone in this). Are you serious? You're seriously crying because you can't buy people a bunch of presents?
Cryer: Yes! You don't understand!!! I LIKE doing this. I LIKE buying things for people. It's what I do. It's not about spending money, it's about buying them a gift that they'll really like.
Wise man: Ashley, that is not what Christmas is about. And it's really sad that you're this upset over it.

Well, for those who know me, you know that at that very moment, those wise words didn't quite penetrate. But he was right. I always spent a lot of time thinking about what I would get each person on my list, and we have a big family. I wanted to get something they had mentioned, or something I knew they would really like and that I had put a lot of thought into. To me, that's what, it's the thought that counts, meant. And a lot of times, I would struggle and struggle with what to get them. It never occurred to me, that maybe that meant they didn't really NEED anything.

Well, I haven't changed in the respect that I still LOVE to give to people. It's so much fun! You think of a gift they will love, or find something perfect! And then there's the anticipation of it sitting, all pretty and wrapped, under the tree until time to open gifts. And they open it, and it's so wonderful, and you're so thoughtful and everyone is happy. BUT. With all of that thinking, fretting, shopping, spending, rushing, worrying, thinking, thinking...it's easy to lose sight of what we should be focusing on.

The real meaning of Christmas. The birth of Jesus; spending time with family; and yes, giving, but it can be much more simplified, and much more meaningful.

Here are some ways to simplify the giving, so you can focus on the meaning.

• Adopt-a-family for Christmas - We're making this a new family tradition, between all of our local families. Buckner Family Services in Longview, can help you adopt-a-family in need. Visit www.kvne.com for details.
• Adopt an Angle Tree child
• Give these gifts in someone's name or honor, as your gift to them as well.
• Make a gift - I was never fond of this idea. But that's because my thoughts were so limited (they still are). Unless it's something in the electronics department, most gifts can be made.

Ideas of Gifts to Make

• a blanket - sounds hard, right? I thought so too, until a good friend made me one for Christmas. It is now my favorite and warmest blanket! Buy two pieces of fleece from a fabric store or Wal-Mart. Cut inch wide slits all around the edges of both pieces and tie them together.
• Personalize pottery; paint an inexpensive bowl, cookie jar, any glass or plastic container. The possibilities are endless.
• A recipe book
• Plant a tree in someone's name
• Frozen food (my new favorite idea) - if you know someone's favorite, make it for them and freeze it for them. Or of course sweet treats!
• There are tons of ideas on the world wide web.

Also, in having a simple Christmas, think back to your favorite memories of Christmas. They most likely will not revolve around material things, but a simple tradition. Find ways to to create similar rituals and moments like those.

You don't have to sacrifice your favorite traditions or things to do. Simply scale them down; increase the meaning of your time. I truly hope you'll have yourself a merry, warm, and simple little Christmas.

Christmas: When, Who, What, WHY?

It seems prior to each holiday this year, I begin to ponder what it is I will tell my children about that particular holiday or celebration. How am I going to explain the purpose, why it started, where it originated, what we do to celebrate it, and on and on.

It usually goes something like this (in my head):
Let's see....Halloween's coming soon. Gotta ask Dylan what she wants to be. Lane will be a cowboy this year, already got the costume. I think I'll wait until the week of, so she'll have less time to change her mind. Okay, so I'll say, Dylan Halloween is coming this weekend, what do you want to be? That doesn't make sense. Does she even know what Halloween is? Wait....do I know what Halloween is? Carve a pumpkin, make a costume, wear a costume, get a candy bag, go door-to-door and ask strangers for candy, eat the candy, hand out candy to strangers kids....ugh. I better visit Wiki and see what the origins are so I can at least tell her why we do all of these things.

Note: I am not ignoring Lane. While he does hear what I'm saying, he doesn't have a lot of questions just yet.

So, in all actuality, I guess I have the questions too. I have issues with telling my kids, we're going to do this, and not know why. Does that make sense? I don't have issue with saying, "becuase I said so," or "just because," in everyday conversations with them, but I want to know why I'm forcing them to don costumes and go door-to-door on Halloween; why we do pink and red hearts on the fourteenth of February; why we wear green on St. Patrick's Day and pinch others who don't; why we eat turkey and way too many other things on Thanksgiving.

This year, my Life Group teacher did a really great lesson before Thanksgiving about the origin of the holiday. Come to find out, those who started the "feast" had only seven kernels of corn as their ration for the day. Hmmmm......

First, I have to say that I think myself to be extremely philo-traditions. Philantraditionist? Anyway. I love them. I keep them. I become very unstable if they're broken, and it takes time for me to accept changing tradition. It wasn't until I had children, that I began to investigate some of them. I never really wondered, or cared to do the research, to find out all of the "why's" behind each of the holidays we all enjoy. I loved them too much. Didn't really care WHY we all got together to eat turkey, ham, deviled eggs, dressing, three salads, eight casseroles, mashed potatoes, four pies, and then leftovers each year. It meant my entire family being together for several days and that was wonderful and happy.

Christmas - same thing. I loved, and still do love, everything about it. I love fall. Love fires. Love bustling. Love Christmas lights. Love going and cutting down a Christmas tree and decorating it. Love presents under them. Love buying presents for others. Love Carols and Candles at my church. Love all of the Christmas stories. Love it. It's ingrained in my head, my heart, my who-I-am. Oh and now, for the last six years or so, I....yes, I love Christmas music. I even have a few CDs.

Now, I have children. My daughter, now 3 1/2 is really beginning to understand Christmas. So thus it begins. She will now begin to remember things we do during this holiday season. Traditions are beginning, or beginning to be remembered. It has now become extremely important to me to determine what it is exactly we will teach our children about Christmas. In fact, it's consumed much of my thoughts these last few weeks.

I think it began like this (in my head, as usual):

(To myself is blue. Outloud is red.)
Okay, let's see, Christmas is coming.
Dylan, Christmas is about to be here. Do you know what that means?
Wait what does that mean?
Ummm....that means that Santa is coming.
That's not right. Well, it is, but that's not why.
We celebrate Christmas because that's when baby Jesus was born, and we're celebrating His birth.
And so Santa comes too? And brings presents to us for baby Jesus?
Yep, Christmas, mommy's favorite time of year.
I've gotta figure this out. This is too messy. Little bit of secular, little bit of religion. Not liking that.

And thus my research began. I'm not an idiot. For the record. And my parents instilled some very meaningful traditions in our lives, and taught us the real meaning of Christmas. I was taught that Christmas is commemorated to honor and celebrate the birth of Christ. Gifts are given, as the wisemen gave Jesus gifts, and we each received three gifts from Santa. We ate pancakes on Christmas morning and sang Happy Birthday to Jesus. My Dad read us two books each Christmas Eve, which told the real story of Christmas and Jesus' birth.

But it was really bothering me. Real story of Christmas and Jesus' birth. Why is it called Christmas then? When did this celebration/tradition begin? Does it talk about Christmas in the Bible? Does God say to celebrate Jesus' birth in the Bible, and if so, how?

Who. started. Christmas?

I wanted to know, if we told our children that we celebrate Christmas to celebrate Jesus' birth, if that was true. Did God leave instruction for us to celebrate Christmas? And what about all of the things that go with it? Tree, food, gifts, lights, carols?

Maybe I'm a little behind the times, or my generation. Maybe you've already thought through all of this. But for me, it took the very scary, yet exciting thought, that we have a huge role in defining what our children believe, until they're of age to decide for themselves. Whoa.

So. Here is some of the research I found. I found it online, so NONE of it can be taken for truth. Except for the information I found in the Bible. I take that to be truth. Everyone interprets, or is given, different interpretations of what it says. So you have to read it for yourself and then glean what you will, or are blessed with. I just want to share what I found. Also, I've gone back and inserted in red, some of the answers, or information my pastor so graciously sent me. I believe this to be truth as well.

CHRISTMAS RESEARCH

• There is no celebration of Jesus' birth referenced in the Bible, (only His death) This is true as far as celebrations like a holiday, a huge feast, decorating a tree, decorating your house with lights, red and green, goes. However, they did celebrate (as in the verb tense). And they (the Magi) did bring gifts.
• No one knows the actual day/month/year Jesus was born
• Christmas is celebrated on the 25th due to several assumptions - that He was conceived on March 25, and it was thought that prophets died on the same day they were conceived; and that if Jesus was conceived on March 25 that would be exactly 9 months later
• One source said that Christmas was created as a combination of several pagan feasts (Saturnalia, Brumalia, and the Birth of the Unconquered Sun/Persian sun god). When Christianity became the official religion of the Roman Empire, the bishops thought they'd never be able to get the enormous number of pagan "converts" to give up observing these festivals so they "Christianized" them and made it to celebrate Jesus' birth.
• MOST INTERESTING THING I FOUND/LEARNED - that Paul, in Galatians, expresses concern about celebrating certain days/months/years; the research I found said he was most likely referencing the pagan festivals and the possible bondage people could find themselves in, when celebrating or commemorating these. It said that Paul didn't say they were wrong but he was concerned with WHY they were celebrating these days/festivals. Paul said that observances should be kept on an individual basis; should not be bound on others.
• I also read that we must be careful not to displace keeping God's commandments with upholding human traditions. Mark 7:9 - "You are experts at setting aside the commandments of God in order to keep your traditions."

My Pastor's Thoughts in reference to my questions/research

On celebrating - Luke Chapter 2 verses 7-20 seem to point to Christmas as a time of celebration. An angel of the Lord announced to the shepherds and to the world that a savior was born. It was definitely a time of celebration as the angels sang, “Glory to God in the highest and peace on earth and good will to men.” (Luke 2:14) We should celebrate the birth of the one who died for our sins.
On gifts - We get the biblical understanding of gift-giving from the magi (known as wise men) from Matthew 2:11 where they brought gifts to the savior and each gift of gold, frankincense, and myrrh, have a special meaning for the savior. Also, Matthew 2:1-12.

On the date -Historians have speculated on the exact date of Jesus' birth and concluded that it is more than likely at another time of year than December 25th. However, we know Jesus was born and whenever that exact date was, we celebrate the event of God coming into this world as a man to go to the cross for our sins. What an event to celebrate.

On the origin - There are different opinions on how Christmas got started and I am sure some pagans and others (modern-day people) have abused and misused this holiday for the wrong purposes.

Conclusions, Sort of

So, if "Christmas" isn't in the Bible, then wouldn't that alone mean that God never intended for us to create a holiday like we have, or wouldn't He have included that in His book to us?

It's so hard to decipher and to decide what to teach our children. I love Christmas, but want to stay true to the real reason we're celebrating; and I want my children to enjoy Christmas and Santa, but still know the real reason it all started. I don't want to become too tightly wrapped up in the whirl and blur of events and shopping and spending and giving for the wrong reasons, and pleasing, that I lose sight of what's at the core of this snow blizzard.

I believe that as long as we teach them to always be thankful to God for everything; to be thankful for the gift of Christ's birth; the gift that Christ gave us by dying on the Cross; to have giving hearts and give to those in need; or give to others as long as the objective is to express love and kindness and not to receive in return or because you it's something you're supposed to do, then those are things God would want us to teach them.

And as far as the "trimming" traditions go, I guess we just have to be careful not to let any idolatry occur with the tree, food, gifts, and the holiday itself. We can't allow that to become the focus, or all of them equally to be the focus.

I really like what Paul said or inferred. That we should focus on the WHY.

Peace and love.

$50 a Day

Last week, on Wednesday afternoon at 2:3op.m. I pulled onto Aviation Drive of Dallas Love Field airport in Dallas, Texas. As I hauled roughly 100 pounds of luggage (on wheels for the most part) from Parking Garage B, Level 1, Row J, I questioned the trip I would embark on within the next few hours.

At 4:55p.m. Mountain Time, I would arrive in El Paso and be greeted by an employee of Buckner Children and Family Services, Colonias Program - Ricardo Brambila.

As I sat on the plane trying to drown out the old Ag across the aisle, boasting loudly about his amazing box at Aggie Stadium that he invites all of his customers to for home games, I tried to focus on what lay before me. I had signed up to go on a "Shoes for Orphan Souls" mission trip to El Paso and Juarez, Mexico with Buckner, several months prior.

What I knew when I signed up: That I was supposed to go. I felt in my heart I needed to go. I felt guilty at the thought of leaving my own children to go be with others, but I knew I needed to go. I assumed from the name of the trip that we would be giving shoes to orphans and that's about it. I knew I needed a passport. I knew I needed to be flexible. And that's about it. I knew nothing else.

In the week leading up to my departure, I was overcome with how little I knew. It wasn't the lack of knowledge about the itinerary or what I needed to pack, it was my lack of knowledge period. Was I supposed to know what to say to the children? Because I didn't. In fact, I envisioned myself becoming a basketcase and wanting to take them all home with me.

In the days leading up to my departure, I crash-coursed myself by reading statistics on the area, the culture, the poverty levels, and so on. I read and re-read our trip manual. Each item on the packing list had a check beside it (I would learn some of those items were recommendations). I had read what we were supposed to do each day, I read the verses the activities were based on, I read the Ladies Day flyer in Spanish and began to refresh my memory on my Spanish vocabulary. But still, for some strange reason, I felt like I had emailed my beloved teacher that I wanted to go on this trip, booked my flight, read the manual, packed my bags, and here I was on the plane. For no strange reason apparently, because thus was my reality.

In our packet we were mailed there was a devotional book to study prior to the trip, during the trip and after. In the last leg of my flight I decided to read another devo before I arrived. The words read, "Look into the mirror. Think about all of the things you like about yourself, dislikes, goals, flaws, dreams, expectations, accomplishments - now say goodbye." It said to say goodbye to yourself, because you wouldn't need any of those things. Thank goodness I thought. Because if it were me on my own I would truly screw this all up or accomplish nothing at all.

As I came down the escalator, I saw Ricardo there with a green Buckner shirt on, waiting for me. As we visited on the way to the hotel, and as I stared at a mountain range in Texas, we discussed the tragically high poverty rate in the border towns, and how most families who come here from Mexico make as little as $6,000 per year. I asked him, "Why do people continue to come here, to America, if these are the conditions they face?" His reply in additoin to the American Dream, "because where they came from it was worse; where they came from they were dying. Now they're surviving." Wow. A little difficult to wrap my mind around this right now.

We arrive at the hotel, I check in at the front desk, and go immediately to Room 119 - the supply room. Had the hotel not known who we were with and what we were doing, there's no doubt in my mind we would have been under survellience and drug task force swat team members would have busted into Room 119. We loaded big black rolling duffel bags each morning and reloaded them each night with 50-60 pounds of supplies (mani/pedi supplies, sidewalk chalk, coloring books, thousands of stickers, mirrors, bubbles, balls, school supplies, lotion, body spray - you know the good stuff). So, I walk in on the supply mafia finishing up some ladies goody bags and I'm briefed on our mission.

There would be 7 ladies from our church in Longview, all of whom I knew but was the youngest; 6 ladies from Peoria, Minnesota; 3 ladies from the Dallas area, 1 student from Arkansas and a mother and 14 year old son from Arkansas; a father and 3 of his 6 children from Phoenix. We would be ministering to women while hosting a Ladies Day type event, giving manicures and pedicures (out of most people's comfort zone), entertaining Spanish speaking toddlers, and doing crafts and activities with school aged children in the afternoons while their mothers received a new pair of shoes for each of them as well as a bag of school supplies for each.

Wednesday night, after everyone arrived, we met in Jane Ann's room for a meeting and some share time. Jorge Zapata, the Colonia Program Director for Buckner (our main guide for the trip) spoke and shared a little bit of his testimony.

Through thick Spanish accent, he told us not to become frustrated. "You may wonder at the end of the day how you could have made a difference in a child's life, or a woman's life, just in an hour. Just by giving them a hug. Just by helping them do an activity. But I was one of those children. My parents never told me they loved me. Their parents never told them. They didn't know any different. But I was visited by a mission group just like this one, and that affected me. They gave me hope, and that changed my life. I'm a pastor. My brothers and my sisters and our families, we kiss and we say we love each other. It changed my life. So don't think that you can't make a difference in just thirty minutes or an hour, and just by hugging and loving on the kids, because you can. You may never see the repercussions of your work here, but know that you are making a difference." Sigh. Jorge knew what he was doing. He was answering the question on each of our minds. It was comforting and reassuring.

Jorge, Ricardo, and Monie (Monica) all spoke about the conditions most of the people we would meet live in. No running water (for some), no electricity (for some), walking to get where they're going unless public transportation is available, eating the only two meals they get each day at school, sharing a bed if there is one, with one or two more children, sharing a house with two or more families, never owning a new pair of shoes, new pair of clothes, new anything.

Living on $50 a week, for a family of 7, made up of a single mother, 6 children, and the oldest daughter bearing an 8th member of the family. This family lives in a one room house that's smaller than most of our dens/living rooms and with two sets of bunk beds, and the mother leaves her 6 children at night by themselves to go bake bread for $50/week. These are families in the United States; in Texas, who are living like this.

Stats of Border towns
Ethnic Groups: Hispanic Americans, Anglos, Mexican Meztizos and Indigenous groups that have migrated to the border, Central American immigrants
Languages: Spanish, English, and “Spanglish”Religions: Roman Catholic, Protestant
Literacy: 58%
Unemployment rate: 32%
Population below poverty line: More than one third of families on the U.S. side of the border have incomes at or below the Federal poverty levels. Average household income for the 32 border county area varied from a low of $18,553 in Zavala County to a high of $41,283 in Sutton County.In 1999, about one in three border residents (29%) lived in poverty. During 2003, one in four border residents lived in poverty compared to 1 out of every 6 residents in the state. Thirty-two percent (32%) of Texas school children ages 5-17 lived in poverty in the 32 Texas border counties compared to 21% of school children in Texas for this same period.



We were in border towns, known locally as colonias, meaning poor neigborhoods. POOR. A colonia begins as nearly nothing. Homes are made out of wooden palettes and cardboard. Again, no exageration. The people construct their homes out of anything they can find and slowly build onto them. The two colonias we were in were much older and had been established for quite some time, so we saw more RVs with rooms built onto them, projecting out to the side. But the RVs looked as if they may fall apart at any moment. Many had old tires on the roof, which were full of water and attract mesquitos, but they are a neccessity to keep the roof from blowing off. Jorge said that people in the colonias would most likely never leave, but continue to build on to what they had. Hispanic people are very prideful, and they want to remain where they started, even if they begin to be more successful. Some will eventually build the wooden frame of a home around their RV, and keep building on that for years until they finally have an exterior complete. Then they will tear down the RV insdie and start on a new interior.

We drove around one of the colonias on Friday (Sparks). I took two or three pics but that was all I could stand. It felt a little sickening taking pictures of their poverty to show everyone back home. It was true. No electricity. No water for some. We saw several out houses on the properties. There is a recently passed law that mandates any person wanting electricity to acquire running water as well. That's good right? Yes, but that means purchasing a septic tank, which costs between $1100 - $3000. Most of these family make a minimum of $7,000 annually. So they go without either.


Some residents, like an elderly woman we were told about, work hard and save to pay off the owner of the land they live on, so they can finally call it their own. When she went to make her final payment and request the title to the land, she was informed that the land had already been sold to somone else before her. The land owners (duenos) will sell the land to two or three different people. The first buyer may not make the payments and then disappear, so he sells it again, etc.

You may say - they came to America, they can work. Yes, they can. But the border town areas have some of the lowest paying jobs and lowest wage rates in the U.S.

Without getting into all of the political issues and controversies that are tied to this area and what is going on there; before you may begin a list of "buts"; but they can work, they should abstain if their living in poverty, they should strive for a better life - think about it this way. Where they were living in Mexico was worse. The Mexican government for decades, has ingrained in its people to strive for a job to get by and nothing more. No aspirations of being something great, or better than their parents or grandparents. No education. Huge barrier - lack of education and people taking advantage of that. And, is this really our land? Are we not all God's children? Are we not all human beings? Would you rather live your life saying we shouldn't help someone because of any reason? Why not just help, serve, give? Enough.

I was very blessed to be able to go and feel very fortunate to have had the opportunity.

The first day we went to a colonia school - not really a fully functional school - more for mothers and young children - we conducted the Ladies Day in the morning and did shoes/school supplies/activities with the kids that afternoon. The majority of our group gave the mothers who came that morning manicures and pedicures, while they watched the Hope video (Esperanza). Most of the women said they had never had a pedicure or never had their feet rubbed. The group also made them a salvation necklace and told them about Jesus. While this was going on, I was part of a smaller group who had the mothers' preschool children. Also, keep in mind that English is the minority spoke language among this group. I was fortunate that a lot of my Spanish vocabulary came back to me which was a miracle in itself. We played games and entertained the little ones while their moms were pampered.

In the afternoon the older children would come with their families/mothers after school to pickup their shoes and school supplies that we had ready for them. We did crafts and played with the kids while the moms stood in line for shoes. We helped them make mirrors and told them how God had made each of them unique and that he made them for a purpose. You should have seen the look in their eyes when we would say this. It was a flash of hope. Something they don't hear too often.

It was incredible, the difference in these children from those who are born and raised here in the United States, or most of the U.S.
Even the older teenage boys were putting stickers on their mirror and didn't seem to think they were too cool to do the activity, as you would have assumed. The brothers and sisters were nearly inseperable. You could see the look of deep love and protection in their eyes for one another. I could see an older brother standing so close to his baby sister and I saw in his eyes a look of "I will take care of you, I will protect you, I will make sure you are okay."

Few things/people that stuck wit me:
Rene
We were in the final hour of our organized chaos on Thursday. I had just help to round up all of the kids from playing outside, because we had broken a window out playing ball. I knew that was going to happen. Ikept yelling "ventana" trying to warn about the windows but that didn't help obviously. So we herd them back inside and a group sits back down at our table and I'm the only adult there. The other group members had gone to help with shoes. And I think, okay this is my chance to actually talk to them and tell them what we're here to tell them. So here goes the conversation:
Note: school-aged children speak English for the most part
Ashley (AG): So...who knows how the earth was created?
Several hands shoot up and I here ooh, ooh, ooh. "God did," from several.
AG: Very good, that's right. And how many days did it take Him?
Kids: Uummm....a hundred?
AG: No! Not one hundred. It only took Him six days!
And then I begin to read, in a kid-friendly version, the six days of creation and what happened on each day.
AG: So, that's how everything was made in the beginning. God created everything - all of you, the trees, plants, animals, bugs, fish, the earth, water, all of it.
Rene (this is a young man between 8-10 years old. I had been with him earlier that morning. He came with his mom and baby sister b/c he was sick): Sooo...how did God make the earth? I mean there was nothing, right? So how did he make it?
AG: Oh dear (to self)
Little girl beside me: Um, because He's God and He has powers that we don't even know about!AG: Exactly right!
Rene: (He ponders that for a moment) Well, if God made everything and he is in control of everything.....then why does He let people die?
AG: (My heart just burst in my chest, my eyes are crying from the inside. I'm thinking, I am not equiped to answer this Lord. Please answer him for me. I can't.) Well, Rene. I don't know the answer to that. Sometimes bad things happen to us and to people that we love and we don't know why, and all we can do is pray and ask God to help us understand. And that helps make us feel better, because we can talk to Him about it.
Rene: Okay.
A few minutes later.
Rene: Well, do you believe in Santa Clause?
AG: Well, yeah!!!! Of course I do. Who doesn't believe in Santa Clause?

Don't Judge Me
On Friday in the afternoon (shoe and activity time), I saw a little girl come in with her mother, who I had played with that morning. Stephanie. She was probably two. So I went and got her while her mom went to get her shoes and supplies. Stephanie colored for a while and about fifteen minutes later I saw her mom come back into the room and sit over against the wall. No big deal. I figured she was waiting for Stephanie to finish her picture. Well, time passed, and kept passing. In fact, so much time, that I had covered little Stephanie in stickers. Her face, hands and shirt. And I was covered too. I was loving it, but it my judgemental self kept thinking, "I can't believe her mother is just sitting over there, when she's already go the shoes. She's kind of using us as a babysitter." Like it mattered!!!!!! Anyway, I kept thinking, I'm having fun with stickers, but I feel like I should be talking to the older kids who are at my table doing the mirrors. That's what I'm supposed to be doing right now. Telling them about creation and salvation and how they were made for a purpose. Well, Stephanie stayed the entire time. I did end up going and talking with some of the kids. As everyone was leaving Stephanie's mother walked straight up to me and hugged me so very hard and whispered thank you. Then she leaned down to her daughter and told her to kiss me and give me a hug. So I said my goodbyes to little stickered Stephanie. As they walked away, Jane Ann came over to help me clean up and she said, "There were these moms over there just sitting and sitting and they already had their shoes and I kept thinking, they can leave if they want to. I said, "Yeah...that happened here too." She said, "So, I was going to go tell them they didn't have to stay, that they could leave, and Jorge stopped me and said," "You don't know how far they have to walk to go home or what they're going home to. They probably want to stay here as long as possible." Stop judging Ashley!

The Little Things
There were several children who would not smile. It was hard for me to accept this. I would try everything under the sun, no inhibitions. I wanted them to smile. One little boy never did and really bothered me. My Gisele, who never broke a smile the entire morning. She wouldn't let me put her down but wouldn't smile, nor respond to me dancing, making faces, coloring, candy, balloons, Spanish Vegetales, sidewalk chalk, nothing. But that afternoon - bubbles and stickers. I busted out the bubbles, the $0.50 bottle of bubbles and some stickers and she began to smile and chase the bubbles and she wanted stickers all over her. Something that simple. Something that might have distracted her mind for a bit.

I was only there for the two days that we did this itinerary. On Saturday the group went into Mexico, city of Juarez, to an orphanage to distribute shoes and love on the kids. I have heard that this went really well also, but I was unable to attend. I came back to be in Candy and Matt's wedding, of which I was honored to do so.

The trip was wonderful. It wasn't long enough in some respects. It opened my eyes. It lit several fires. It showed me ugliness. I saw a beautiful culture and people who are so easy to fall in love with. I saw God working. I was challenged.

We all need to do something. We all need to go somewhere. There is work to be done. There are things to be given of ourselves. There are children to adopt.

Here are some comments and statistics from an email from the Buckner staff about our trip:

I forgot to mention that we were the very first group to go to Canutillo, which is where we went the first day.

Jane Ann wrote: This is the report sent to the corporate Buckner office about our trip. I thought you would all find it very interesting and encouraging that you were the team that was so important to our colonia ministry. I had told you that you were a "test" case but I'm not sure you realized how important and strategic you were to this ministry.
Thank you again for your obedience. Isn't God amazing?
jac

From: Dexton Shores
Subject: Final Report on SOS El Paso-Juarez Trip

Jorge sent a final report of the results of the SOS El Paso/Juarez Trip, and Wille Hernandez, our director at Buckner's Children's Home in Juarez, Nuevo Amanecer included something about the SOS trip in his weekly report. Following are both Buckner staff member's first-hand accounts:

Jorge said:
"We ministered to over 950 people in three locations: Canutillo, Sparks and Juarez. There were 63 professions of faith, 24 volunteers, 192 hours worked, with six Buckner staff and one spouse.

The Juarez trip was a blessing and turned out to be more of a trust and faith trip. Everyone was on the lookout as soon as we crossed, waiting for the police escort to arrive, but seemed to be relaxed from the tension and negative stories they had been exposed to.

There were about 250 at BAN ('Offering Aid to the Needy') that attended and we ministered to 100 children with crafts and Bible stories. Most of the families were from the church and a few from the community and the Buckner Children's Home in Juarez. Willie Hernandez (director of the children's home) and the children were very excited about receiving the shoes and the van donated by the Rio Grande Children's Home in Mission.
The national Hispanic TV Station "Univision" was there to cover the event and the story came out on the Sunday night news. They opened the story by saying: "Because of all the violence going on in Juarez, many religious groups have cancelled their trips, but Buckner International came anyway to make a difference in Juarez. We have positive news to report in Juarez and this religious group is why. Moni Skrzypinski was interviewed and explained our purpose and Miguelito from the Buckner Children's Home was also interviewed. They both did a great job!.
All the ladies that came, now have a new mentality about Juarez. All of them said they want to come back and said they believe the American News is exaggerating all the negative. Some called back home and told them 'You need to come and see for yourself'. Our last night together was a blessing and each participant shared how their lives had changed and how they were going back home to be a VOICE for Buckner. Three ladies told me that their relatives were very upset because they were coming to Juarez and they told them: 'I am going because God has put it on my heart to be a part of this trip and I must obey God'. Two ladies committed to designate an offering to the Buckner Orphanage in Juarez and BAN. They said they would also see if they could get their church involved.

All I can say it that the trip to Juarez turned out to be a blessing because everyone in the mission group was convicted to pray for the American Church living in fear and for Buckner staff that are out in the field trusting God for daily protection."

Willie said:
A big event for the children was the Buckner shoe drive at the church in Juarez and the fact that we were going to get a new van. Saturday, we got up early, got ready, had breakfast and we took the city bus to Juarez.( two hour drive). In Juarez, we took another two buses (30 minute drive) and finally got to the church. We arrived 5 minutes before the mission group did. The children really enjoyed the trip, the activities, the shoes and were very excited about driving back in a new van. It was a fun day.
Something to share... While at the shoe drive, Channel 26 of Univision arrived to interview and to report the event and Miguel was interviewed all of the children's it home got excited. It seems that Miguel is like a magnet when it comes to T.V. appearances. He has been on T.V. three times already, the first time was when the ambulance took him to the hospital and the reporters of Channel 44 were there and filmed the moments they were getting him out of the ambulance and reported about his accident. This happened two years ago. On his birth date last year, we took him to the movies, and at the mall where we were, they were filming a T.V. Show for children. The clown invited him to be part of the show, got him a cake and gave it to him in one of segments the show. So who knows?, Miguel might be the next T.V. evangelist!
Also at the shoe drive something very coincidental or a divine thing, but it happened. Our twins Abril and Abigail had received shoes that a friend of the ministry had sent them. Abril got some Dora the explorer shoes and Abigail got some different ones. At the shoe drive Abigail without her choosing them, was handed a pair of shoes identical to the ones Abril has, same color, same design, and so now they both have the same shoes like twins usually do. Two small incidents, but to them these incidents were a big deal.

I praise God for our Buckner staff and the way they allowed God to use them to bless the residents of El Paso and Juarez in spite of the challenges and risk. God is worthy to be praised!
Dexton
Dexton Shores Director, Ministry Development-Mexico & Border

The Twilight Zone, I Saw Some Light, and Friday Night Lights

Holy mackrel. Holy, moly, mackrel. If you read my post below about one of the first days home with my kids, you would have not known me last Thursday. The post below was God showing me the reason I would need to see it through last Thursday. He was saying, Here's why you decided to stay home on Tuesdays and Thursays. And then last Thursday He said, Here's why you work on Monday, Wed, and Fri.

Last Thursday, about 3:47 p.m. I crawled into a chair against the wall in my kitchen. I don't think I was blinking. Just sat there. I could see Dylan leaning over my lap, to look me in the eye and she was saying words, but they sounded like she was in a tunnel, very far away. Kind of a muffled echo. I think she was saying, "Moommmy - wassss wong? Waas wong momma?" Funny how they can go from demonic to sweet and innocent once you've entered the twilight zone. It's like they immediately know you've crossed over from reality to dark, spiraling, tunnel voice, twilight zone. Then they're like, Oh no, she's in the zone. Flip on the sweet talk. Gotta bring her back. Mommy.....

Yeah, so Thursday was a little nuttso around here. I'm pretty sure it had something to do with the fact that Dylan has become accustomed to NOT taking her nap anymore. And Lane, who used to sleep for at least two hours, is now, two hours at best, and usually not even that.

WHY do they stop taking naps? Seriously, someone tell me. She's got at least three more years of naps at school, so what the heck am I going to do? That used to be the school's problem, but now it's mine too. I've looked it up online and all I'm seeing are people saying you can't force a kid to go to sleep, but I'm thinking there's a way. Gotta be. Somebody reading this - please comment me.

So Thursday was a little loopy. No break for mommy, and it was raining outside. Our day ended with me just putting the kids outside and letting them play in the rain, while I sat commatose on the porch - not really commatose - and I didn't have my keys in my hand, but I knew right where they were and I did leave a few hours after Philip got home.

This week was much better. I'm getting the swing of it. The new rule for now is that Dylan has to stay in her bed during nap time, and if she never goes to sleep she has to go to bed early. I don't like it, but that's it until I'm enlightened further. And my new mission with my sweet, little one-year-old baby boy Lane, is to prove to him daily that I'm stronger than he is. I'm determined to make him think that I'm stronger and always will be. If you saw him in action you would understand this. When he's a lot taller than me, and a lot bigger than me, I want him to fear his little mommy and know that I mean business. I will not be afraid to take him down if need be. He's a wild man, don't let the pictures fool you. He's full of love, but he's a wild man. My wild man.

FRIDAY NIGHT LIGHTS!

We went to the Lobo game tonight! Aaahhhh....the memories. East Texas High School football. What is there not to love about it? The smell of popcorn, the bands playing, the drumbeats making people wanna get up and dance, the viewettes working it in the stands, the players raising there arms on the sidelines rallying the support of the fans, the people to the left yelling "Move the chains, move the chains!," the howl of the Lobo after a touchdown! Woohoo!! I loved it. The kids loved it too. Not sure the guy in front of us loved it, but we did. It was great to be back at my alma mater. Good 'ole LHS.

Today Was a Good Day

Okay. So my first day home with the kids was completely filled with so many different emotions. All-in-all it was really wonderful, but I'm bullet-listing my emotions/experiences for your enjoyment.

• I cried because it was so wonderful.
• I teard up as I watched Dylan and Lane play together. And I wondered if they would be closer because of this added time together.
• I calmy disciplined Dylan for two accidents she could have prevented. Potty related.
• I yelled like the exorcist for the kids to get out of the fridge. I really regret that one, because they were really scared for a minute. Wish I could take that back, but that's one of those all the time occurring things. Still wish I could take it back.
• I enjoyed Lane and I alone before Dylan woke up from her nap. Just putting my cheek to his arm and him smiling.
• I enjoyed Dylan minding me so well at Wal-Mart.
• I experienced being the mom with the two kids in public, who other people gawk at because the kids are so bad. But they weren't really being bad, they decided it was wonderful to scream as loud as they could at each other. Really. Lane would start - he would just scream like a crazy baby and then Dylan would chime in, as if in competition. That was new.
• I loved that they ate a healthy lunch.
• I acted a fool at our Dance Party USA in the living room, but loved it. Got winded too.
• I became slightly frustrated because Dylan wanted to play during Bible time, when I was trying to tell her how awesome it is that she was created for a purpose. After explaining this in great detail and in terms I thought she could grasp, which I had given much thought to, I asked her, "Isn't that awesome Dylan?" Her response: No.
• I laughed as Dylan made me eggs for the 100th time in her play house this morning. Then I threw her a curve ball and ordered a coffee, a water, wheat toast with butter and grape jelly, and oatmeal. She said, "Otay!" Went straight to work, then turned and asked, "Toke?" No baby, coffee. She even stirred in cream for me with a stick and served it on a tray. Never saw the toast though.

And, drum roll...I didn't have my keys in hand ready to hit the road when Philip got home! Until next time. Peace and Love.

If I Were Twittering

If I were twittering, or fully understood what that meant, I think I would say, "And so it begins tomorrow - my first day home with my kids!" I'm excited. Strange? Maybe. Won't know for sure until close of business tomorrow. If I'm standing in the entry with only the glass door closed, and my face nearly pressed against the glass, with keys in hand, waiting for Philip - we'll know it was strange. But I don't think I'll be there. We shall see....love.

Let the Cement Set

Have you ever thought about how the tiniest and smallest of things can have so much control over something much bigger and greater than the afore? A bit placed in the mouth of a horse can control it's entire massive, herculean body. A piece of metal 5-8" long, can control a 300-2,000 lb. animal.

Same with a ship. Most ships and carriers are steered by a small rudder. These massive vessels are subject to strong winds, the strength of the body of water they sail, yet their captain may go in the direction he or she chooses by steering the rudder. So tiny in comparison to the size of that which it controls.

And thus, our tongues. This small muscle in our mouths can be so very controlling. Aside from its purpose to assist in eating and taste, our tongue forms words.

The tongue can heal, help, love, brighten, set free, bring truth, bring comfort. Yet it can hurt, harm, destroy, lie, darken, cut, sever, lash out.

The hardest muscle to control, and yet one of the smallest.

In the letter of James, he says that no one can tame the tongue. With it we bless and with it we curse - from the same mouth both blessing and cursing.

Ouch.

We are to be S-L-O-W to speak, and quick to hear. Me? I can't even remember half of the things I say. I say them so quickly, without even thinking. In fact, Philip and I have gotten into arguments recently, because I won't remember what I've said, or I won't remember saying anything about the subject in question at all. Not good. And at times I can't remember what someone has said to me - why? Most likely because my minds too busy thinking of what I'm going to say next. Ugh.

I have been hurt very badly, very deeply by words, both spoken and written. Words are forever. They can be forgiven, but they can never be taken away. If I had to keep a written record of all of the mean things I've said - all of the harsh comments, quick retaliation to those who've offended me or a loved one, things I didn't really mean, but that hurt, snide comments and so on - not only would I be writing for a very, very long time, but I would collapse in exhaustion from weeping and agonizing over the pain and hurt I have caused. All of the flesh I have pierced with my venemous words - some formed wounds that have scabbed and since healed, some have left scars, and some will forever remain a flesh wound.

A great forest can be set aflame by a very small fire. The tongue is a fire, the very world of iniquity; the tongue can defile the entire body, and sets on fire the course of our life (v 3:5-6).

Maybe the time it would take, and the pain it would become, to record every hurtful/cursing thing I said, would assist me in slowing down my deadly poison-laden muscle. Because let me tell you - every morning I can pray and ask that I be given strength to bridle my tongue, and it's not 20 minutes later that I'm asking myself why I just said something. Why did that even cross my mind or come out?

It's lack of self control. If you can control your tongue, then you can control every other part of your body.

It's also habit. The constant movement and flicker of our tongues is a habit. Moments of silence are uncomfortable for some, so we fill them. Knowledge feels good and so we speak it, freely. Opinions voice expression, so we voice them. Silence is almost seen as stupidity. You may feel if you don't respond immediately, then you appear as if you were at a loss for words or ideas or opinions. You feel uncomfortable.

Ever given much thought to a cement truck? The trucks with the cone-shaped area at the back that constantly turns so that the cement inside doesn't solidify?

I think I've been living with a bag of quickcrete in my mouth. I'm afraid if I stop spewing forth thoughts, comments, opinions, ideas, knowledge, gossip, news, mindless chatter - that the quickcrete will set. But that's what I need. I need the cement to sit, and to set. I need something that heavy, that solid, that permanent, to S-L-O-W me down. I need to ask myself what the purpose is of what I'm about to say. I need to ask myself what my intentions are of what I'm about to say, BEFORE the words come forth. Because once they come forth, they're etched somewhere. They are then the concrete. And even if you get your big sledge hammer out and bust them up with a few slugs of forgiveness and few slugs of apology and few slugs of trying to forget - the tiny pieces will still remain.

What a chore! And an ongoing one at that. Like trying to keep a house clean with two toddlers, a husband, a dog, and me.

You Are Just a Vapor; The Next Chapter

Nearly three years ago a very good friend of mine sat across from me and said, "From now on, your most imporant job is to be a mother." Nothing matters more, nothing is more imporant. As I hapharzardly replied, "Yeah, I know," as if hearing just another two cents of advice, my dear friend, uncrossed her legs and leaned forward and said, "No. I'm serious, your most, important job now is to be a mother." The words were as heavy as stone, and a glimmer of the past from which they came, poured through her eyes. The weight with which those words were said, the definitivness and seriousness that was shown in every muscle of her entire body - etched those words onto my heart. But lightly at present.

The blade on my exacto knife is habitually dull. Unless the material I'm cutting is paper-thin, I've come accustomed to making my first cut, which is merely an outline, in preparation to make the deeper, more permanent cut. Depending on the material, I may have to dig the blade into it to cut all the way through.

Her words that day, made the first etching and outline on my heart, and over the past three years the letters composing each word have been dug deeper and deeper.

There are many known, and some unknown, reasons as to why it took so long for me to surrender to something I could no longer ignore. I suppose it takes time to stop making decisions based on what's in YOUR own best interest, and start making decisions and DOing things with others best interest at heart, as well as your own.

Last Monday, after over six months of deliberating, figuring, calculating, speculating, researching, praying, deciding and then changing my mind, praying, asking, seeking, even becoming physically nauseous with all of the thought processes. I turned in my two week notice at my current job.

If you've never left a job where there was nothing wrong, it is the most twisting, almost haunting feeling. Once you've rattled off your reasons why and you're feel confident in your decision, the haunting thought enters your mind - Just to get this straight - you're leaving a job you excel at, a good job for you, flexible, good pay, good benefits, all good. Right? Deep breath. Yes.

Tomorrow will be my "official" last day, although I will be doing some work throughout the next month, and possibly longer.

Next Monday, I begin a new chapter of my life, which means a new chapter for everyone who's close to me, especially my children and my husband.

Next Monday I will begin working for my family's business three days a week (Wholesale Sale Supply). I will be doing adverting/marketing, but I'll also be assisting the head hauncho/office manager/accountant - my grandmother. My grandmother is in her '80s and she still works there every day, and does all of the company's accounting BY HAND, no computers, and has since my grandfather started the business. I will be helping her enjoy life (hopefully) by not having to be there every day, and ease some of her anxieties. I'll be assisting my dad with the marketing/advertising/new opportunities.

And on Tuesdays and Thursdays I will be (drum roll please) keeping Dylan and Lane at home with me! That feels so good to say! I have been so burdened for the past year to be home with them, but for novel-length reasons (meaning you're getting the nutshell version) I haven't done anything about it.

I am SO VERY blessed that I even have the opportunity to do this. I'm blessed that my family would offer me this opportunity and be willing to add the expense of another employee. I'm blessed that Philip is supporting me in this, and has all along the way, 100%. Although he still doesn't understand why it took 6 months. I'm blessed with my current/former employer for being so understanding amongst other things. I'm just a very blessed person at this time in my life. I have a huge support group of God, family and friends who have re-assured me along the way, and that is irreplaceable.

If you've spent much time with me lately, or this may be in my Busy post, can't remember, too tired....you might have heard this already, but time is all we have. "You are just a vapor that appears for a little while and then vanishes away." (James 4:14) We get this tiny little square of life and that's it. So, while the safest, and to some smartest, and to others most logical thing to do, would have been to stay put. While I found myself at times thinking, Dylan's going to be in Kindergarten soon and won't need me much then, what's going to happen when they're in school and don't need me, where will I be? I thought, that's the thing. We don't know where, we don't even know if, we'll be.

So, next Monday it is!!! I'll keep you "posted."

Breaking Up Is Hard to Do

Ever find yourself in a relationship that you know you shouldn't be in? The person isn't great for you, but their not entirely bad for you either. You have fun together, you spend all of your time together, you get along, but something about the relationship just drains you. I've been needing to make a clean break in this relationship I've been in since the mid- '90s. Yeah, we'vebeen together for a long time.
Busy and I have always been a good team. She's always got something going on, always something to do, somewhere to be, someone to see, someone to call, email, write a card to, take dinner to, say yes to - busy girl that Busy.
But Busy and I have that typical "unhealthy" relationship. I really like her most of the time. She's part of who I am. In fact, she's something I inherited from my mother, and I believe it's at least a third generation trait. I like Busy because I'm comfortable with her. She's like second nature to me. But she gets me in trouble. She's like weeds suffocating young periwinkles in the bird bath garden that are trying to breathe but can't because they can't break though.
I've been telling Busy that it's not working out. That I'm not happy with our relationship anymore. And she's quick to remind me that she's got a log to offer: time with friends, trips to Wal-Mart, work, writing, developing new ideas, going to birthday parties, planning birthday parties, running errands, planning showers, going to showers, researching our health, investigating school districts, looking for real estate, going to Church, Bible Study -none of which are bad things to do. She makes a good point.
But, I finally mustered up the courage to tell her that I'd met someone else. Just a friend thing, but I'm learning a lot, and I can still have most of those things, I just can't have them all at once. I met Balance.
I don't know all there is to know, or even much about Balance yet, but I think there's much to be gleaned and implemented.

Taking Off Uptight

Last weekend I worked harder than I've worked in a very long time. We're talking physical labor that began on Friday evening after work, and resumed at 6 a.m. the next morning until about seven hours later. I was creating curb appeal, or attempting to. See, where some people have a green thumb, mine's black. However, the 10+ hours and cash I invested in our front lawn, that right now looks worse than it did prior to the beginning of my curb appeal mission, created a determination in me like no other that I WILL NOT let those flowers die.

Wednesday after work and family dinner at Luby's, I was out front watering my struggling home beautification projects while Dylan and Lane were playing in the yard, still fully clothed - which is abnormal because Dylan typically takes her clothes off the minute she steps foot inside the house if not before. She's got a pair of really cute chocolate brown shorts on that have little butterflies on each back pockt with a brown belt that has a gold glitter butterfly pattern all over. And this really cute shirt that she never wears that I love. I usually won't send her to school in the outfits I really like because they usually come home with chocolate milk, Jello, paint, and whatever else on them. But I'm shedding, right? Just wait.
Dylan, taking after her father, absolutely loves being in water. So as I'm watering the plants, she starts running under the spray of the hose in her very cute outfit, mind you. As I drew in a breath to rattle off my normal string of stop, don't, nos, something like - "Dylan get out of the water, you're getting your clothes wet," something stopped me. Seriously? Seriously. Hello almost 3-year-old, please stop trying to catch a few drops from the water hose and running in the yard on a near 100-degree day, because you'll get your cute outfit wet. Not covered in paint or mud or red juice, just wet. Am I really THIS uptight??!?!? Apparently so. But I let it go. I let the words escape out of my mouth as my jaw dropped at my accomplishment. I slipped a shoulder out of uptight.

We then ventured onto the back porch where Dylan could run free, and yes naked, with Lane right behind her. While I spent last weekend slaving in the front yard, Philip invested his time into the backyard. Some of you may not be aware that it's not unusual for me to come home one day and there be something like a huge stone wall on the side of our yard, a stone fireplace in the middle of our yard, a new sidewalk - all wonderful and beautiful works by my very talented husband, but all surprises to say the least. Anyway, so the kids have the water hose out and Dylan is just really enjoying herself. She's hosing herself off and then Lane - directly in the face. And then they're in and out of Baily's water bowl, which is a huge blue bucket that's extremely slippery when they're standing inside of it. And as I'm watching them I realize that I'm literally holding my breath. I can't stand it. I can see one of them slipping and it getting really nasty there on the concrete patio. And then they're onto the rock patio and up and down on the boulder (yes, boulder) and it starts to really get to me and I stop and think - I'm going to drive myself crazy. They're kids. They're naked. They're playing in the backyard with the water hose and loving it. Not glued to the TV inside or clenched to my leg, or crying, or whining, just playing and having fun.
And so I busted my foot out of this suffocating mold and it felt just like taking your socks off after a really long day outside - just wonderful.
Philip and I then proceeded to have an adult conversation about school districts, and teacher turnover, and magnet programs, and on and on. But I felt so normal. I'll admit that my to-do-list was attempting to haunt me and interrupt with - what's for dinner, what are you making for the kids lunches tomorrow, have you EVEN started on the three loads of laundry sitting just inside, do you see all of the dirt on Lane's nake bottom, but I swatted them away as I slapped mosiquotes on my leg and enjoyed my family that evening.
It felt good taking off uptight. If I can just get her in a box and drop her at the nearest Goodwill location, I'll be doing much better! One layer down...

I Guess I'm a Blogger

I thought I already was a blogger. I blog on MySpace. Wow. A few years ago I refused to even entertain the idea of a MySpace profile, and would only use the word "blog" to save from having to act it out. Times change, things change, we change. Which is good. I can't imagine the person I would be today, if I had stopped changing at any milestone or pit stop along this journey. In fact, I'm thankful and grateful that I'm ever-changing, and yet I don't necessarily enjoy change. I'm a planner. I like plans, schedules to the minute, lists that entail so much detail you'd think I was writing them for my three-year old. I enjoyed structure, consistency, repitition in terms of safety and comfort. But not presently. I presently sense the need to break out of this mold I've made for myself. Where I've been tapping on the mold from the inside with a tiny little nail and soft mallet hammer, I'm feeling more like rocking it back and forth until it falls and shatters into a million pieces, and then...Aahhh. I can breathe. I suppose I'm presently changing. I'm shedding layers (maybe like an ogre, ogres are like onions Dylan tells me). Dead layers that have been suffocating me and who I was made to be. So, while I didn't expect this to be my first blog in the blogging world that's not MySpace, here it is. Peace.