Bleacher Bums

My neck is stiff. My back is tired. I have a knot in my left shoulder, kind of toward the middle.

Anybody want to come work out those kinks for me?

How come I’m so stiff, you ask? I think the answer lies somewhere back on Sunday when I put my body through a grueling torture. Something akin to being in a prison camp cell, since I was confined to a very small space in less than comfortable conditions and was not allowed to leave.

Sunday was the annual high school music festival. Correction. The “Holiday” music festival. It’s held in the gym to accommodate all of the various music groups, but because the performers, which included three bands, two orchestras, and three singing ensembles, took the entire floor space of the gym, the only place for the parents to sit was . . . the bleachers.

*cue ominous music*

Three hours on a bleacher will indeed give you a stiff back, neck, and any other body part you’d like to mention here.

Don’t get me wrong, I love going to this concert. I’m a mom. Moms are supposed to love three hour long concerts given by 370 kids I don’t know and one kid I do know. It is for that one kid that I gladly sat on the bleachers last Sunday. The one kid I love with all my heart and wouldn’t miss hearing her play.

Unless, of course, my back was out and I was lying flat because of pain, which is exactly the situation B was in on Sunday. The man should never touch a shovel.

Believe me, I wouldn’t have traded places with B on Sunday. I would gladly suffer gulag-like conditions before I would want to have back pain like he has, so, really, no comparison.

He was feeling terrible about missing the concert, so he asked if we would please tape it for him. Naturally, the battery in our video camera hadn’t been charged since the kids use it for every school project imaginable, but we still had a few minutes of life left in it, so we took it with us. Maggie was my videographer because, while I thought I had a perfect view of Abby in the orchestra, as soon as the conductor stepped onto the podium I couldn’t see her. Why does this always happen? You’d think by now, after nine years of concerts and recitals, I’d figure out where to sit to get the best view, but I just haven’t worked that out yet.

So Maggie, who had a little better view than I did, taped the show. Well, only the parts that Abby was in. I don’t think B really wanted to see the boys group sing “Mr. Grinch” in a mystery key, even if it was just adorable and funny. Besides, remember the battery life? Not so much.

At the end of the concert, some friends we were sitting with slowly got up and stretched, probably letting the blood rush back into their legs and feet and toes. I had explained to them earlier that B was flat on his back and couldn’t sit on the bleachers that long, which was why we were taping the concert for him.

Our friends, who seriously questioned B’s “excuse,” had a great idea. They said that, in order for him to truly get the full effect of the concert, B should watch the tape in a 2 foot by 2 foot space, with his knees pressed up to his chest, sitting on a hard board with the heat cranked up to about 80 degrees.

For three hours.

Only then will he get the full concert experience.

Oh, and good news! There's another concert tonight! This one at the Middle School. Pray for me.

Christmas at the Wild House

Welcome to our home!


Let's take a peek inside.


The stockings are ready.


The tables are set.




The tree is decorated (thanks, Maggie!).


The only thing left to do is to wish you a MERRY CHRISTMAS!!


Have a wonderful season of celebrating the birth of the Savior, Jesus.

Today I'm participating in the Nester's Christmas Tour of Homes. Pop on over there to join in the fun.

Well, it's been a day. A really fun day. A really FULL day. But a great day today.

This morning started at 6 when I had to run to get treats for our 6th grade girls' Bible study again. I just can't seem to do that one early. Not sure why.

So Bible study at 7. That's A.M. Kids off to school. A little time over coffee with Amy because she helps out with Bible study and that's "our time" each week.

Later in the morning my friend, Harper, came for a cooking lesson. She can totally cook, so I'm thinking she's staking out my house for a future burglery or something. No other reason I can think of that she'd want to hang out here, but it sure is fun for me.

Just in case you're curious, today's lesson comprised of Pork Tenderloin (my recipe which I guess I should post here at some point), how-to-cook-a-steak (we used the indoor grill today--brrr!), and Butternut Squash Risotto which we ate for lunch.

After Harper left I quickly made a red velvet cake to take to a party tomorrow, and then picked up our Bible study girls at school. We're--even as I write this--having a little Christmas party together. Can you say sugar rush??

So that's been my day. My feet are tired. I think I've earned dinner out with my family, wouldn't you say?

My weekend is just as busy as today, so there probably won't be anything new around here until Monday when I'll be linking up to the Nester's Christmas Tour of Homes.



Have a great weekend!!

Of Blizzards and Duck Shoes

Let me set the scene.

Me. Bundled up like Nanook of the North (whoever that is—it’s just something B always says) with my truly ugly Ugg knock-offs, my warmest fleecy sweat pants, and my ski parka with its hood pulled over my head. Top that off with mismatched ear warmers and mittens and you’ve pretty much got a beauty on your hands.

Dog. A little antsy from being cooped up in the house for a couple of days. I brought the long leash so she could get just a little more exercise, but even so it seemed like she really needed to run.

Weather. Does the phrase “arctic tundra” mean anything to you? Well, it should because that’s what Thunder the Wonder Dog and I were walking in. We’re talking snow and ice blowing sideways.

So we were walking along happily, enjoying the blizzard all around us, when we came to a street corner and Thunder thought she’d dart across it to check out the next yellow fire hydrant. The leash pulled mightily, I jerked forward, and she nearly pulled me down into the slushy mess.

Nearly.

Thankfully I caught myself before I got covered with it. Thankfully it was getting dark so nobody would have seen me fall anyway. Thankfully there wasn’t a car coming.

Anyway, the scene yesterday afternoon, the one of the snow and ice and slush and of me nearly falling down, brought back a memory of a few winters ago when I was in college. Let me take you back there with me.

Winter was brutal when we were in college, but I barely remember it being bad. Except that there was one building that we had to walk past on our way to class that created what everyone called the wind tunnel. Walking through the wind tunnel every day was kind of harrowing—you didn’t want to do it very often—but other than that, I don’t remember hating winter as much as I do now.

Must be an age thing.

My roommates and I used to have contests every day to see who could stay on their feet the most. Pathetic, really. We’d tally up how many times we’d fallen down each day and the person with the most “falls” was the loser.

It was usually me.

Our campus was small. So small that we only had one dining hall that was situated on two floors. For some reason unknown to me, the “cool people” ate upstairs. The only time you would eat downstairs was if you had nobody to eat with or if you really wanted to have a serious conversation with someone. That’s it. Otherwise you ate upstairs.

On one particular winter evening, a guy I had gone out with a couple of times asked me to dinner. So, we walked across campus to the dining hall and, of course, we headed upstairs. Really, the entire campus must have considered itself cool because most everyone headed upstairs.

Honestly, I don’t remember much about the dinner “date” until it was time to leave. We grabbed our coats and headed down the stairs with me a step or two in front of him. Now, you have to know this part—it’s crucial to the story. The stairs were made of this smooth cement—you know, the kind that looks like there are little pebbles in it, but really it’s honed to a very smooth texture. The college tried to keep us from hurting ourselves by putting those black grainy strips on the edge of each step, but over the years the black strips had themselves become smooth and were even worn away in places.

One other thing you must know, as I proceeded down these smooth, slippery stairs was that I was wearing duck shoes. Remember those? The must-have Preppie accessory of the ‘80s? Just in case you don’t remember, this is what I’m talking about:



I have no idea why they were so popular. I mean, look at those shoes. You don’t get much uglier, unless you’re wearing my Ugg knock-offs. But the good thing about the Ugg knock-offs is that they are warm. Duck shoes were pointless because not only were they ugly, they were not anything close to warm. Sure, there was a little felt lining in the bottom of the shoe, but warm they were not.

And why L.L. Bean still sells them today is beyond my comprehension. Just goes to show you what a hardy bunch those New Englanders are.

Oh, and did I mention that the tread on duck shoes is virtually non-existent? Well, it is. Not. There, I mean.

So, all that to say that with those smoothly honed, steep steps, the snow that had melted on them, and the duck shoes I was wearing, you can imagine what comes next. Yes—BAM! I slipped and fell down the last two steps, onto a landing. My Kelly green cords were all wet, but worse than that I had fallen down in front of the boy I had just eaten dinner with.

Humiliation doesn’t even begin to cover it.

I picked myself up from the landing, brushed myself off a bit, and laughed. It was funny, after all.

Remember how I was on a landing? I still had two more steps to go until I was all the way downstairs, into the “uncool” part of the dining hall which was probably a “cool neutral” area because everyone had to walk through there, but whatever. It matters not to my story.

I headed down those last two steps and, you guessed it—BAM! Down the last two steps and into a huge, gloppy puddle. Now my Kelly green cords were not just wet, they were a muddy mess. And instead of laughing I felt like crying. My backside hurt like crazy, and people were starting to stare.

And that boy was sure no gentleman because he just stood there and laughed, not even offering to help me up. Should have been my first clue, but that’s another story for another day.

In the end, I slunk back to my dorm room, got myself cleaned up, and counted myself the biggest loser of the day for taking two falls in a row.

Seriously, though, whenever I’m walking in slushy snow and I feel like I’m going to fall, I think about that day. And I laugh.

Bacon Wrapped Dates Stuffed with Gorgonzola Cheese

It's the holiday party season. Understatement of the year, right?

If you're anything like us, you have a couple of parties to go to. And you might be asked to bring something to these parties. That's O.K. I like bringing stuff, especially food. Pretty much because I'm a picky eater, and if I bring something I'm sure to have something to eat.

I know, I'm the model guest.

Anyway, B and I had to go to a party last night, and I was asked to bring an appetizer. This one is so good, I could have eaten the entire plate. But I didn't. I refrained. Because there was actually food that I liked at the party.

If you're looking for a very simple, and I do mean simple, very delicious, and very elegant appetizer to take (I know, I know, I'm getting "take" and "bring" mixed up here--which to use?) to a party, then this one's for you.

Ever had a Bacon Wrapped Date stuffed with Gorgonzola cheese? Oh my.

Apparently my husband had never had one because he took one of my little appetizers, not knowing that I had made them, and said, "Hey, you have to try these little cocktail weiners covered with bacon. They're great!" That's my guy. He has such a refined palate.

Honestly, who would wrap pork with more pork? Really, honey? Really?

Anyway, my friend, Amy, served these probably more than 10 years ago at her first neighborhood Christmas party, and she's made them every year since. Everyone requests them over and over again because they're so good. And I'm a lucky friend because she shared the recipe with me.

I don't think I've ever quite forgiven her for that.

So here we go. Lots of pictures to make this look complicated, but it's really not. Even a caveman could do it.

First, assemble your ingredients. Three, to be precise. Dates, bacon, and gorgonzola cheese.



Then line a baking sheet with parchment paper. Makes cleanup much easier.



Next, cut a pound of bacon in half, like this.



Now check out those dates. See how they come with a nifty hole right in the middle? That's where the pit would go if they weren't pitted dates.



Then, with the tip of your knife, flick off little pieces of the gorgonzola. Kind of like this.



I ask you. Is there anything better than a block of gorgonzola cheese? Except for English Stilton--I am a total sucker for English Stilton with a nice glass of wine--but, puh-leeze, my kids need Christmas presents.

If you're really careful and really lucky, you might have a little bit of gorgonzola left over for a sandwich the next day. Take it from me, blue cheese (or gorgonzola) with very thinly sliced apples (and maybe even a little leftover cooked bacon) on some French bread makes THE BEST grilled cheese sandwich you've ever had.

But I digress . . .

Next, very carefully open up the date and press a chunk of gorgonzola inside it. Be careful not to cut all the way through the date. You might have to smoosh the cheese inside and close it up again.



Then wrap the whole thing up in a piece of bacon and secure it with a toothpick. Just like this. And put it on the baking sheet.



Repeat about 40 or 50 times until the bacon and the dates are gone, but not the cheese because you know what we do with the leftover cheese. *wink, wink*

Now, preheat the oven to about 375 or 400 and bake these babies for about 20 minutes. Just be sure to keep an eye on them--once they're done, they're done, and after that they burn pretty quickly.

Serve them up on a pretty platter and watch them go. Fast!



But be careful to keep an eye on that pretty platter because rather than being set out with all the other dishes that need to go home with their owners, your platter might just end up stuck in a corner of the kitchen with a purse on top of it. Hmmmm. I'm just sayin'.

Bacon Wrapped Dates Stuffed with Gorgonzola Cheese

1 10 oz. package whole pitted dates
1 1 lb. package bacon
Gorgonzola cheese

1. Preheat oven to 375. Line a rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper; set aside.

2. Carefully slit the dates open on one side. Place a piece of cheese inside the date, then close. Wrap each date with bacon and secure with a toothpick. Place dates on baking sheet.

3. Bake until bacon is cooked and browned, about 20-25 minutes.

4. Drain on paper towels. Let cool slightly before serving.

Nice Surprises

I'm a little late getting going this morning because we had a bit of a surprise overnight. As in some white-fluffy-stuff-lying-all-over-the-ground kind of surprise.

Yep, it snowed last night for the first time. And I'm just here to warn you that probably a majority of my posts this week will have to do with snow because we're supposed to get a whopper of a storm on Tuesday or Wednesday.

Hold onto your snow shovels.

The first snow of the year is always pretty nice. It's beautiful when you walk outside and nothing has been trampled yet. It's so pretty to see the tree branches covered in white. Everyone's excited about the first snow, including me.

Until about lunchtime when I've had enough of getting in and out of the car, dragging clumps of snow with me which eventually turn into puddles on the kitchen floor. Harumph.

Anyway, Maggie had such a wonderful morning full of nice surprises, that I thought I should share. She told me that she had one of those middle-of-the-night wake ups last night when you think it's morning and then you look at the clock and it's really 2 a.m. and you realize you still have four more hours to sleep. Isn't that just the best feeling in the world?

And then she said she came downstairs to see the snow everywhere which, according to her, was a wonderful surprise.

But then she walked into the pantry to get some Cheerios for breakfast and had the most wonderful surprise of all. Instead of Cheerios, there was a box of Fruity Pebbles! Glory be!

(Just a side note to explain that Maggie rarely gets Fruity Pebbles, even though she begs me for them almost every week. I guess I was really feeling the Christmas spirit when I went to the grocery store yesterday.)

Maggie's morning was made complete when she took a new banana from the bunch, claiming it to be "perfectly ripe."

I guess my day was made complete too because the simple act of buying a box of Fruity Pebbles and some perfectly ripe bananas put me in the running, according to Maggie, for mother of the year. Good thing I finally qualified . . . we're almost out of year.

So tell me, what makes it a perfect morning for you?

Kinda Surreal

Watching hockey the other night.

B: Alright!! They scored on a shorty!

Me: What's a shorty?

Maggie: They were shorthanded because of a power play but they scored anyway.

That's my girl!

Anna's Hope

Yesterday I told you a little bit about Anna. There's more.

During her chapel address to over 2,000 Wheaton College students (now there's enough to make your knees knock together!!), Anna noted two changes in her outlook on life now that she's had cancer for over seven years.

First, she said that her entire view of living each moment of each day has changed. She now knows that relationships are the most important aspects to life. Not that doing what needs to be done every day isn't important--those papers must get written!--but her relationships with friends and family are what bring her true joy.

Second, Anna has come to appreciate the simple pleasures of life. She noted how during one long hospital stay she thought that Panera soup was just about the best thing on earth. Nothing could compare to it in Anna's eyes.

The simple things.

As I write these important lessons that Anna has learned--that I need to learn--I think about the season we're in right now, the season of Advent. The season that reminds us that God is with us, Immanuel. And I think, now, why am I worried about what gift to buy for that teacher? Why do I spend time on the mundane things of every day when I should be focused on the fact that there's so much more to this life?

Anna has caught a vision for what a life truly lived looks like. She sees her purpose as being here to help kids who have cancer. Not only is she getting a master's degree in clinical psychology so that she can counsel kids with cancer, she's also started a nonprofit organization to help further Neuroblastoma research.

You can read more about Anna's story and her foundation, Anna's Hope, by clicking here. You can even hear her chapel address by clicking on that same link. If you want to contribute to Anna's Hope, click here. If you contribute $25, you'll even receive a cool necklace like the one in the picture above.

Finally, what I really want to focus on during this Christmas season are the words Anna used to close her time in chapel. She said, "God is with me. Right now."

Immanuel.

Amazing Anna

I remember clearly the summer of 2002. I remember getting a phone call from a friend of mine to tell me that something was going on with Anna, the daughter of our friend, Laura. My friend on the phone didn’t have much to tell me, details were still coming out, but she asked me to pray. Hard. Because something was really wrong.

I remember a few days later, hearing about how Anna had just gotten home from a missions trip and how she had noticed a large mass on one of her sides, near her rib cage. And how her grandfather, a doctor, had examined her and gotten the medical ball rolling as quickly as he could.

I remember hearing her diagnosis for the first time: Neuroblastoma. A quick-spreading cancer that was usually found in young children, not in 17-year-olds. The prognosis for Anna was completely unknown because the disease was so rare in teenagers, but for young children it was devastating.

I remember letting that knowledge sink in: the daughter of one of my friends has cancer.

That was seven and a half years ago. This week I got to hear Anna address the student body of Wheaton College, giving testimony about what God has done in her life over the past seven years. This is a remarkable girl with a remarkable story who gives all the credit to her remarkable God.

Let me first say that Anna is not healed. Not by a long shot. In fact, her cancer has spread throughout her body. As her mom said to me one time, “It would be easier to tell you where Anna doesn’t have cancer than to tell you where she does have it.”

Just let that sink in for a minute. Imagine, one of your children so full of cancer that you can’t even begin to list all the places she has it. I think I would feel sick to my stomach all the time. And yet Laura, her husband, Bob, and Anna continue on, looking for cures, seeing God’s hand all over the situation.

In Wheaton’s chapel service on Monday, Anna’s dad introduced her—he’s a professor at Wheaton—and he did a wonderful job. He said of his daughter that she “is exactly what it looks like to receive the gift of life and to live—to really live.” He also pointed out that Anna has not received any special spiritual training; she’s basically learned what she’s learned about God just by living through this ordeal. He cautioned the students to not get the wrong idea about his daughter. Even though she looks healthy on the outside (and she does), “beneath the surface lies a horrible mess.”

Can you just imagine? Saying that about your child? Having to say that about your child? Anna’s dad is a courageous man, that’s all I have to say.

So then Anna got up to speak. A beautiful, blonde 24-year-old graduate student, she’s spunky, bright, optimistic, and intelligent.

She gave some background about how she was diagnosed, how rare it is for a teenager to get Neuroblastoma (less than five teenagers are diagnosed every year), and how she has beaten every single odd against her just by being alive today. Anna described the years of experimental treatments she has undergone, mostly painful, and how the drug she is currently taking targets a specific genetic mutation. Amazingly, this drug seems to be working because as of the last time she was scanned the cancer had left her pancreas.

How cool is that? To be filled with cancer and then to have some of it leave your body. Nothing short of a miracle.

Anna then turned the focus of her talk to her relationship with God. To say that this girl is strong would be a complete understatement. She is a rock, and the lessons she has learned have solidified her faith in ways I can’t even imagine.

She quoted my favorite Psalm—Psalm 62: “My soul finds rest in God alone; my salvation comes from him. He alone is my rock and my salvation; he is my fortress, I will never be shaken.” And she talked about how it’s during the hardest times that she feels closest to God. She even acknowledged that sometimes she yearns for those times when she’s feeling sick because then she can just “be” with God.

Longing to spend time with her Savior. Finding it a joy and a privilege to be with Him. Longing for that closeness with God. These are the things Anna finds most important in her life now.

And then Anna said something I found to be so amazing. She said, “Of course I want to be healed, but I don’t pray for that anymore.” Instead, what she does pray for are these three things: for God to be glorified no matter what, for peace in every circumstance, and for joy in each day.

She said some more profound things at Monday’s chapel service, but since this post is getting long, I think I’ll save those for tomorrow. For today, just focus on Anna’s prayer and maybe pray it for your own life—that God would be glorified no matter what, that you would have peace in every circumstance, and that you would find joy in each day.

Sounds like a great prayer to me.

Need a Quick and Simple Christmas Gift?

Photo credit: Suat Eman

This deal is just too good to keep to myself. Today Amazon is selling one-year subscriptions to various magazines for just $5. Click here to take advantage of this amazing deal.

But hop to it--the $5 subscription deal ends TODAY.

At that price, Santa could probably buy one or two for himself.

*wink wink*

You Push My Buttons, I'll Push Yours!

(Photo credit: Suat Eman)

Togetherness can be a wonderful thing. If you’ve read my blog for any amount of time, you know how I feel about my family—I love them with all my heart. I love being with them. I am so thankful for each one of them.

We’ve taken some great family trips with long stretches of togetherness, and they’ve been great. Being together for an extended time can be rich and rewarding and just what a family needs.

But sometimes it’s just not.

I’ll be honest. The togetherness of the past week got to me, and by the end of our week “off” I had had just a little bit too much togetherness. Seemed like every person in our house was pushing someone else’s buttons.

Especially mine.

I’ve spent the past several hours trying to figure out how this happens. How a generally happy family like ours just completely breaks down and has one of “those” weekends. I guess if I’m to be completely honest, I’ve been trying to figure out whose fault it is.

But, just like the kids’ saying goes, when I point one finger to someone else, I’ve got four pointing right back at me. The blame game just doesn’t work, and it sure doesn’t make anyone happy.

But here are some ideas I’ve had—no solutions, just thoughts. Feel free to chime in if you have any ideas why “those” moments happen.

- We were out of our routine, and sometimes this throws us off.

- I let stuff get to me that I shouldn’t have. Once the little things begin to fester, it just gets worse.

- As Mom, I can do a lot to set the tone for our times together. I just didn’t bother to do that this week.

- I was having a week-long pity party because it felt like we were the only ones who didn’t have family around for Thanksgiving.

- Hormones

- I did not take time to spiritually prepare myself each day. I felt far away from God this week when what I really needed to do was rest in His arms.

There’s probably a little bit of truth in each of these, but the last one really kind of speaks to me. I’ll need to do something about that today.

So how about you? How was your Thanksgiving? How did your family get along? And mostly, how do you get out of a funk? Comments, please!

A Week of Thankfulness - Day 5

Today's post might seem a little silly to you, especially if you're not a blogger, but over the past year I have become increasingly grateful for my little corner of cyberspace. I know, I know, it sounds strange even writing it, but hear me out.

Over the past year I have gotten emails from people I have never met who have told me that I've encouraged them in some way. Me? Encouraged someone? What a kick!

Over the past year I've met some people I never thought I would meet. People like my friend, Lysa, who has encouraged me so much in my faith and who has encouraged me to dream big dreams. People like Jo-Lynne and Tina who help me see what a blog can really become. And people like Sandy who has suffered a great deal and still has a wonderful heart for God.

I hope, hope, HOPE I get to meet more bloggers next year.

Best of all, my faith has grown tremendously in the year and a half or so since I've started reading the blogs of others. There is an incredible community of women (and men) out there who are passionate about their faith and who write about it so that others can be encouraged too. I cannot believe how much I've benefitted from being a part of that community.

I am thankful for the creative outlet that this blog has given me. For years I've had these rambling thoughts rolling around in my head. Sometimes silly, sometimes profound. But others in my life knew I needed an outlet--a way to be heard. I am so grateful to my mom who one day said to me, "You need to start a blog." And for Kate who followed that up a few months later with, "Mom, you really need a blog." And then for B who surprised me with a laptop for my birthday a couple of years ago--his way of saying, "Now get to work."

Since I've been writing this crazy little blog I have felt more like "me" than I ever have. It's like the piece of me that had been missing. The creative piece.

Finally, I am most thankful for each of you who pop in for a few minutes every day, read the sometimes silly, rarely profound, things I'm thinking about, and go on your way. Changed just a little, I hope. You cannot know what it means to me to have someone stop me and say, "I read your blog today." Wow. Humbling doesn't even begin to express it. (Embarrassing might be more like it.)

I have no idea what will happen in the year ahead, but you can be sure that I'll still be here, clicking away on these keys, and letting you know all the crazy ramblings that are in my head. Thank you for indulging me with your presence every day.

A Week of Thankfulness - Day 4

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

Last night our church held its annual Thanksgiving Eve service--one of my favorite services of the year because it's one of the only times we get to hear from the people of the congregation as they give testimony to what the Lord has done in their lives.

I should have brought Kleenex. That's all I have to say about that.

One of the hymns we sing every year is my favorite of all time. It's the hymn I've already told B that I want sung at my funeral--"Great is Thy Faithfulness."

Whenever I see that hymn listed in the worship folder I think, uh oh because I know I'm going to cry. And the girls all look at me, just waiting for the gusher to come. Last night was no exception.

All of the verses are wonderful, but the one that usually gets me is the last verse which goes like this . . .

Pardon for sin and a peace that endureth,
Thine own dear presence to cheer and to guide.
Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow,
Blessings all mine with ten thousand beside.

For some reason when I think of the "ten thousand beside" I just can't help thinking about the people sitting in the pew with me. I think of the way God has just poured and poured and keeps pouring His blessings out on me every day by giving me the family He has given to me. I can't believe I even have them in my life, I am so undeserving.

Today's the "big" day. The day we think of the things we are most thankful for. And with those "ten thousand beside" blessings in mind, I want to say how very thankful I am for my family.

For Kate who blesses me every day with the way she works so hard, never complaining. And whose cheerful attitude lifts me up every time I am with her.

For Abby who blesses me with her quiet strength and profound wisdom. I am amazed by the depth in this girl.

For Maggie who blesses me by making me laugh almost hourly. And for the way she has been searching out God in her life--and finding Him.

And for B who blesses me just by being him. Who has surprised me and motivated me and loved me beyond anything I could ever imagine. Who makes me look forward to the future and all that might come with it.

I am grateful for each one of you. I love you all so much more than my feeble words could ever say.

A Week of Thankfulness - Day 3

I always say that if I get through this stage of my life with any friends left it will be a miracle.

Because, when I think about it, I'm not always that great of a friend. I'm in a busy stage of life. My kids are teenagers and a pre-teen. There are no playdates. Very few moments of lingering over coffee with a girlfriend.

And if I'm really honest I'd have to say that I've become accustomed to my solitude. I like being alone. I like being at home. I've become more and more introverted as I've grown used to this life as a stay-at-home mom (I know, I've been doing this for a while now, but it took a few years to actually get used to it).

Worse yet, I have grown to hate the telephone. I rarely pick up the phone to call a friend because I wouldn't want to be a bother. An intrusion. Everyone else is as busy as I am, right? I prefer a quick text or an email or a Facebook comment.

But that's not communication, really. And in order to maintain friendships you have to communicate, right? I'll admit it, I'm just not good at this these days.

So today, I'm thinking about my friends, of whom there are many, and I am so grateful. I'm grateful for those texts and emails and Facebook comments that let me know people still realize I'm alive and well. I'm grateful for the occasional phone call, even if it is brief and to the point.

I'm grateful for the girls in my small group who meet for lunch most Wednesdays. If it were up to me, I'd stay home, but these girls get me out and keep us in touch with one another.

I'm grateful for those friends with whom I do occasionally share coffee. I love catching up with their lives and their kids, and these times together make me hopeful that someday I will still have friends when all of our kids are grown and out of the house.

I keep a quote on my desk, a beautiful card which my sister-in-law, Julie, made for me which says this: "I awoke this morning with devout thanksgiving for my friends, the old and the new" (Ralph Waldo Emerson).

This pretty much sums it all up for me. I am grateful for you, dear friends, every day.

A Week of Thankfulness - Day 2

One day I was surfing. The net. And I came across a sermon I thought I'd want to hear.

So I clicked on the video link and started watching. Out came the pastor in his jeans and flannel shirt. He stood in front of a music stand with his Bible, I think. He started to tell a story . . . something that had happened at his home that week.

I waited for the message to turn to the Bible. And I waited. And I waited some more.

For a full 10 minutes I listened to this pastor rattle on about something completely insignificant before I had had enough. I clicked off the video.

He never opened his Bible.

And I realized, once again, what a special place our church is. It shouldn't be, really, because you'd think that every Christian church in America would place a high priority on preaching God's word. But they don't. Not all of them.

So today I am thankful for my church.

I started attending this church waaaaay back when I was a freshman in college. 1981. I was drawn to it for many reasons, but one that comes to mind immediately was its commitment to the Word of God. Every sermon for the past 28 years that I've been attending there has been centered completely around the Word. There is no mistaking what our church is all about, and I'm glad about that.

Yes, some people think it's dry. Some have left because they think it's just too boring. Some think it's too hard to understand. But to me, there is nothing more important that being fed a rich diet of the Bible. I have learned more, grown more, come to understand more about who God is just because of this commitment to the Word.

There are other things I love about my church. Their commitment to missions. Their commitment to the poor. Their commitment to plant churches.

But when it comes down to it, my thinking about all the rest of that stuff comes out of hearing God's word preached week after week. And so, I am blessed. And I am thankful.

A Week of Thankfulness - Day 1

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday, and Thanksgiving week is very special to me. So every day this week I'm going to highlight just a few of the things I'm thankful for. I hope you enjoy it.

We had the privilege of attending a wedding this weekend. The bride became a friend of ours during our trip to Switzerland in 2008. She is a sweet girl who, last Saturday, married her college sweetheart.

Brought back memories, that's for sure.

I love watching the groom when the bride finally shows up behind the glass doors at the back of our church. Normally, when the groom sees his bride for the first time he grins from ear to ear--like he's going to burst with love and pride. But this time the groom did something I've never seen before--he burst into tears. Bless that boy, he took one look at his precious love and fell to pieces, actually wiping tears from his face.

I love that.

So what does that have to do with being thankful this week? Not much. I just really wanted to share that sweet moment with you.

But it does lead me to the first thing I'm thankful for this week. During the ceremony the bride and groom made a point of thanking their parents for bringing them up in Christian homes. This couple realized how important and special their heritage is. They realized that for the two of them to come from similar backgrounds is rare and something to be cherished.

And it made me realize, not for the first time, that B and I both came from homes that treasured our Christian heritage. We both had parents who made going to church a priority from the time we were young. We both had parents who encouraged us in our faith.

Lots of our friends did not grow up this way. I think they wish they had.

So today, I'm thankful that both B and I come from Christian families and that we both had parents who modeled for us what a Christian marriage should look like. I'm thankful for parents who took the time to teach us what's most important.

I'm thankful for a solid foundation that 24 years ago launched us into the world together. That heritage has made such a difference.

VCG (i.e. Very Cool Giveaway)

If there's one thing I've learned over the past year and a half of blogging, it's that the blogosphere is a pretty generous place. Today is no exception. Scribbit is giving away a computer.

A computer, people!

So click on the picture above to find out how to enter.

I Had a Choice

Last week I was in the grocery store. Early. Like, 6:15 a.m. early.

I was buying donuts for a group of 6th grade girls who come to my house every Friday morning for a Bible study before school. And, of course, little girls need fuel and what better fuel than Entenmann’s cakey goodness?

As I was going through the self-checkout line (because I was once again in the store in my sweats and no makeup) a young man who works in the store came up to me.

“What are you doing here so early?”

“Oh, just buying some donuts.”

“Why?”

“Well, I have a group of girls coming over this morning, and I want to make sure they get something to eat before they head off to school.”

“What time do they come?”

“Seven.”

“Really? Seven o’clock in the morning? Why do they come so early?”

So I explained to him that we have a little Bible study before school.

“Well, it’s too early,” he said.

I kind of laughed and said something like, “Oh, it’s O.K. We do our study, the girls head off to school, and I can get on with my day.”

And then he asked me the question I’d been dreading. “Why do you do it?”

At this point I knew I had a choice. I could either just brush it off and say something like “Oh, it’s fun” or something like that. But I also knew I could use that brief moment to give this guy something to think about that day.

Now, believe me, I am the person who would usually choose the “Oh, it’s fun” avenue. It’s just too much trouble or vulnerability or embarrassment--I'm not even sure those adjectives describe it--to actually tell someone the real reason I choose to have eight 6th grade girls in my home at 7:00 every Friday morning.

But I’ve been trying lately to listen to what God’s telling me to do, so I took a deep breath and dove in. I said, “Well, I do it because I love these girls, and I love God, and I want them to love
Him too.”

He thought about that for a second, let it sink in, and then he said, “Well, I still think it’s too early.”

Sorry, B.

First year of marriage. One of our many arguments. Probably about who did more work around our teeny-tiny apartment.

Oh brother.

All of a sudden I hear something zing past my ear, flying down the hall. Was that a . . . shoe?

And then he said, "AND WOULD YOU PLEASE DO SOMETHING ABOUT ALL THOSE SHOES LYING ALL OVER THE PLACE?!?!"

I admit it. I have a small, very small, itty-bitty problem with shoes. I love 'em.

Call me Imelda. I can never have enough.

But today I realized that 24 years after that first shoe argument, I still haven't changed. I still leave my shoes all over the house.

Here's what I found when I got home this morning.

This pair in the kitchen.

This pair by the front door.

This pair by the chair in the family room.

And this pair by the stairs.

Sorry, B. I can't seem to help myself.

Ten Things My Kids Say I've Taught Them

Over dinner the other night I was telling my girls about my “Ten Things” blog post from yesterday. (Hopefully they’ve read it.) So, since I was talking about the 10 most important things I hope I’ve imparted to them over the years, I decided to ask them what they saw as the 10 most important things I’ve taught them.

And now here is where I have one word of advice for all the parents out there: be careful what you ask your kids. Because the answers I got were not at all what I expected.

So, in no particular order, are the top 10 things my children have learned from me. According to them.

1. Stay away from electric fences. This came up because one time when we were visiting a horse farm I leaned up against a fence to pet a horse. Little did I know that the fence was actually TURNED ON, and I fell backwards onto the ground. Kinda scary.

2. When in a foreign country and someone asks you directions in a language you don’t know, DON’T PANIC and say something stupid like, “No speaka de French.” Enough said.

At this point Abby needed a little clarification. “Is this, like, something we’re supposed to learn from your mistakes?”

Um, yeah. Or not. Whatever.

3. “You taught us how to whistle grass between our thumbs.” And I’m happy to report that all three now possess this talent.

4. “Oh! I’ve got one! You taught us that trick where you spin a coin on the table.” Except that Maggie hadn’t learned that trick yet, so we had to spend 10 minutes showing her how to do it. She’s now up to speed.

5. There’s a little tooth brushing song I used to sing to them every night that goes like this:

“You gotta brusha your toothies
Every day.
You gotta brusha your toothies
In every way.
You gotta brusha your toothies
To fight tooth decay.
You gotta brusha your toothies
Every day.”

They tell me this is significant because they now teach that little ditty to the kids they babysit who love it.

6. Another singing lesson . . . and if you’ve never tried this, it totally works, unless you’re in a 10-digit dialing area . . . I taught them how to remember our phone number by putting it to “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.”

It’s O.K. Take a minute and sing your phone number. It works, doesn’t it?

7. “You taught me how NOT to bowl.” Alright, alright. So I’m a terrible bowler. And I just might have accidentally crossed the red line one time and slipped on the oily floor and fell across two bowling lanes. Who knew that lane was so slippery?

8. Baking seems to be a big theme. I guess I do that pretty well, because two of my three have picked up this skill. The third has no interest whatsoever.

9. They said I taught them to respect their elders by fighting for the closest parking spot at the mall so that their grandmother wouldn't have to walk too far to the door. Yelling "Hey! I have an old lady in the car!" to the girl who stole my parking spot really drove that point home.

And finally, just as I was starting to feel like the only thing I’ve taught them was to try your hardest not to appear in public as completely dorky you are in private, Kate said this:

10. “Mom, look at that list. You’ve taught us how to have fun.”

I guess I’ve done O.K.

So tell me, what would your kids say you’ve taught them?