Calorie Counter

Our scale cratered last week. That scale has been a faithful companion in the journey up to my peak weight of (Yikes!) 243 pounds, and it was equally trusty through the long days of the weigh down to the sane 160's. Seventy-something pounds do not shed themselves. That scale heard a few dirty words over the eight or nine months it took to reach my goal weight. I'm sorry to see it go, but the poor dear was claiming I weighed 110 pounds last week. (I'm five foot eight, and that number on the scale would be a cry for intervention had it been accurate.) Owning one of the irritatingly smug talking digital models that calculate body fat and water weight would've offered new opportunities to snipe at an inanimate object, but Don was set on a more basic model that only registered our total weight with a standard dial.

Heatwave

Summer days continue their inexorable creep toward the start of school. The kids and I are definitely thankful for the haven of the swimming pool, but those days are are already giving way to preparations for school. Last summer dragged on over four months thanks to new state regulation of the school calendar, and the first day of school felt unreachable. This year the summer blew by so fast that I think I missed the whole month of June. Just as I was adjusting to the wacky idea of July, it's August. I'm definitely not jazzed about our killer hundred degree or more temperature marathon, but for now we can at least seek relief in the haven of the neighborhood swimming pool.

One Word. Sounds Like...

Yay! Our kids are back home after their very long week away. A big Tex-Mex dinner was just waiting for their arrival last night to celebrate. We hit the pool first thing this morning in anticipation of our 21st or 22nd 100 degree-plus day this summer. We will be washing all of their clothes, and there are new homes to be found for the assorted souvenirs from their travels in Missouri and Arkansas. Everything feels right as Don sits in a chair playing his bass while Katie attempts to pick along with him on an acoustic guitar. Evan is running through the shower so we can go out to run a few errands later, and Erin is reacquainting herself with her little bobble-headed animal toys. The washer, dryer, and dishwasher are all running.
These ordinary sounds are incredibly comforting to me after the past days of quiet while my favorite noisemakers were absent. In a couple of weeks I will enjoy the quiet during the day, but it will be broken each afternoon as the kids return full of news about their days away, the phone ringing with their hectic social lives, the sounds of multiple instruments being practiced, pages turning in books, kids arguing about inconsequential things, 13 year-old boys banging on bathroom doors locked by 11 year-old girls, the t.v. chattering, music playing, the fridge beeping its protest against being open long enough to cool the whole kitchen while someone decides there is nothing good available... the sounds of home.

All That Glitters

I find that it is a critical priority to teach our children how to make better financial choices than Don and I have made over the years. We pay them an allowance that doesn't go as far as they would like for it to--- which is a healthy dose of reality. The necessities are provided for these children, and many extras are covered as well. I do find that I have a different idea of what things should cost than the children. (My brain comes to a halt like the Price Is Right wheel slowly winding down to a final number.) For example: Erin thinks a forty dollar backpack is entirely reasonable for a seven year old. On hearing this news, I wondered if Erin needed to hear the "Just Say NO to Drugs!" talk again.
We cover this gap between reality and fanstasy by giving the kids said allowance and by setting spending caps on everything from their entertainment to clothing. A prime example is the kid who really wanted a $7 toothbrush, but I was only willing to spring for the least expensive battery-operated model. I found it interesting how quickly the want for the $7 model capitulated to a willingness to accept the $5 version when I offered to accept payment for the difference. This year, I gave them a preset spending amount for their back-to-school shopping after doing a mental tally of what their wants could cost. I figured they could sort out what was a priority and be doubly satisfied with what I intended to spend because they were given the freedom to determine the priorities knowing that Mom held a veto right.
Back to Libby's over-priced backpack. (It had glitter, a brand-name, monkey zipper-pulls, and a slight discount.) $35 seemed a bit much to me, but the lure of glitter is strong. I watched her fork over more than half of her total back-to-school dollars on the uber-girlie backpack and a lunchbox that was three times my top price. The fraction of her funds remaining purchased a pair of capris, two t-shirts, and a pair of slip-on sneakers at bargain prices. I was impressed to see that she actually purchased everything on her list without going over budget. She is happy with her purchases, and she compromised on items that will be mixed in with her assorted hand-me-downs already in the closet while splurging outrageously on the two items that she will use every single day. I think she may actually be teaching me a thing or two.

Easily Entertained

Having slept the day away after a minor medical procedure this morning, I was indecisive about the opportunity to catch dinner and a movie to celebrate a friend's birthday this evening. I was also a bit concerned because my belly was making some very indelicate rumblings that sounded suspiciously like a Jackie Chan movie on helium was running in my intestinal tract thanks to gas used to assist in the procedure. I failed to see how that would be socially acceptable. Which proved that I grossly underestimated my girlfriends. I was informed that "We'll be celebrating each other's birthdays when we're old enough to be wiping drool from one another's chins. I think we can all handle it if you let off a little gas." Well, okay then.
After the morning's anesthesia I was under orders not to drive for twenty-four hours, but Don drove me over to meet up with the other ladies so we could all pile into one vehicle for our evening's entertainments. Our driver took every opportunity to make left turns--- and even swung a u-turn after hearing that I have a teensy idiosyncrasy where I refuse to turn left without the benefit of a stop light or stop signs to offer some semblance of right-of-way. My response to such obvious provocation? "Whoo-Hoo! It's an adventure! We're cruisin' around the world to the left!!!" I wonder if our evening was really as much fun as I think it was, or if I am just very easily entertained?

FIVE!!!

Holy WOW! Word came this morning that prayers for Poland are being answered in a huge way. A single salvation is rare there, and such is cause for celebration. Last week a team of thirty people arrived in Poland to minister through gospel music concerts and evangelism. There were FIVE salvations. Shelley commented this morning that the long-term team has never had a short-term missionary lead a Pole to Christ, and so it is with even greater joy that we can greet the news of such circumstances occurring five times in such a short space of time. What a wonderful beginning to this day to receive such great news! Whoo-Hoo!!!

Titus 2 MOB

I am headed out later this morning to meet up with a friend for lunch. She is one of those ladies I think of when I consider "3Older women likewise are to be reverent in their behavior, not malicious gossips nor enslaved to much wine, teaching what is good, 4so that they may encourage the young women to love their husbands, to love their children, 5to be sensible, pure, workers at home, kind, being subject to their own husbands, so that the word of God will not be dishonored." from Titus 2. She has a daughter who became engaged a couple of weeks ago, and the engagement has led to the Mother of the Bride (MOB) contacting a group of twelve ladies. In preparation for the daughter's upcoming wedding and marriage, the MOB is forming a prayer team. What a wonderful gift to the happy couple--- months of prayer support to prepare them to enter into their marriage covenant!
I was initially, and am still, tickled by the invitation to join in this team committed to preparing the bride and groom through prayer for the challenges that inevitably come over the course of planning a wedding and in the days and years of marriage to follow. I can imagine no greater gift that we can offer, and the idea of documenting the prayers for the couple in scrapbook form will create a precious testimony of the days leading up to their wedding, and of the unique blessings desired for the pair by the prayer team God has inspired the MOB to form.

Preparation

I've been reading in Numbers. I find myself taking a census of sorts. How many people live here? How many people will live with us in a decade? Where should we post our banners? Who's in charge of what around here? On whose authority? Are we faithful enough to go wherever we are sent? What if the "where" is not to my liking? What if the where is our mind-numbingly familiar suburban block or an exotic, scary place where our parents' feet have never taken so much as a step? How will we prepare?

The preparation is out of my hands for our future even as it is for something as mundane as the kids taking their vacation with my parents. The kids' stuff did not magically arrive at my parents' destination. (Neither did some of Dad's since his garment bag is still hanging in the entry hall closet.) It required the kids to gather their assorted stuff, me to fold the what-not so it all fit into their baggage, and my Dad to haul it across a couple of states to their destination. Each one of us did the task at hand when it was time to do it. As a result, the kids have the appropriate clothing for their activities during the week.

I did not have to plan the travel route by which that luggage would reach its destination. I did not have to tell the kids exactly which items to pack, but only what sorts of activities they could expect and how many of the basics would be needed. Swimsuits and goggles were important, but dressy clothing was not on the list. Several changes of clothes, pajamas, socks, and underwear were needed because the kids would need to make it through the weekend before the option to wash clothing at Granddad and Grandma's house would exist. Everyone should have a toothbrush. All the sundry stuff needed to fit into the bag or combination of bags available. I purchased any new items that were needed, and hemmed cut-off shorts to extend their usable lives. Once the bags were zipped shut, it was Granddad's turn to load them and see to the transportation os said baggage to its destination.

My role in the equipment of these children for their vacation was simply to provide their clothing and toiletries. The job of transporting what was provided is on Granddad's plate. The children will likely be expected to dress themselves, but there is a reasonable expectation that the grands will give direction as to what mode of dress is appropriate based on the planned activities so that the duckies don't take a flying leap into a hotel swimming pool wearing their pajamas. My place in this tale will recur when the children bring home all their dirty laundry and a load of souvenirs from their travels that need to find a home somewhere.

All of that said, I do not know what God's plan is for me in the years to come. I do expect that it will coincide neatly with His plans for the other people I'm here to serve. I expect the role I play will be one I am able to fill, but that sometimes it will be harder than I like. There will be challenges like needing to find a time to borrow my friend's sewing machine to hem shorts, the price of new shorts may be higher than I want to pay, or retailers may have shifted their inventory to Fall clothing in Alaska although we are enduring 100 degree days when I need to come up with at least six pair of shorts for the girls to have enough on their trip. Still, the tasks that make up the larger job will all be completed, or they will turn out to be less of a priority in reality than they were in my head. Over time, I will see the Promised Land. I just hope that I am faithful enough to go forward rather than foolishly becoming bogged down in details that can detract from the real issue of faith.

And they're off...

And they're off... my Dad's maroon Chevy Silverado rolled away from the curb in front of the house this morning headed north toward an IHOP in search of breakfast on the road. Inside the vehicle were my Dad and my three children. The whole crew is headed for Joplin, Missouri where they will join my Mom. Tomorrow after Grandma gets off work, the kids and both grandparents will pack up to head for Branson, MO to take in the wonders of Silver Dollar City and similar attractions. My kids are big fans of tourist traps (as am I, I must confess...), so Branson will be a dream vacation right up there with Disney and Sea World parks.

Two hours later:
As I head for the hall restroom what do I spy with my little eyes? Granddad's hanging bag full of his clothes for the remainder of the trip. Uh-oh. I call him immediately, but the travellin' man and his herd of followers are ninety miles into their trip. There will be a revolt should that truck make a u-turn in order to head back here now. I'm off to ship the bag to the hotel in Branson where it will await their arrival tomorrow...

Forty-five minutes later...
Or not. UPS charges $16 for the size box needed to hold the folded-up garment bag. The shipping for overnight would be $98, or for the next day $62. Apparently the bag only held shirts. Since Dad had everything else from medications to shorts in another bag, the hanging bag will be hanging in my closet when he returns for it later.

Idiosyncratic Behavior

While visiting a friend who was 39.75 weeks pregnant, I discovered that my idiosyncracies have failed to fade as much as previously hoped. I also realized that it was once again time to clean out the cabinets. Said friend was nesting, and I was helping. As we unloaded her dishwasher, I carefully aligned the pattern on her dinnerware while mentioning that I loved the pattern but would drive myself batty if it lived in my cabinets. She informed me that she would be opening up all my cabinets to check out the alignment of my dishes.

I explained to Ab that the dishes do not always align. They usually align. Things get messy in between my bouts of crazed cabinet organization. As I spoke those words, I realized that the cabinets failed to receive the usual right-before-school-lets-out cleaning to help minimize the disaster of children-home-for-summer reorganization. "Reorganization" is not necessarily used according to Mr. Webster's precise definition in this instance, but the goodies in the cabinets most certainly do see a shift during the summer months and Christmas Break as well as to a lesser degree during Spring Break since the children do not share my passion for ridiculous details. Sure enough, our surprise visitor last week was treated to the ugliness of a cabinet door open to expose the chaos within... Ahhh, motivation.
Besides the kids are leaving, and I will avoid the compelling need to organize the cabinets while they are gone by completing the task before they leave. I think there is probably some mental or emotional disorder here. It cannot be Obsessive Compulsive Disorder because it comes and goes. I am not nesting because I will never be pregnant again outside of a regenerative miracle. It's just a deep desire to have one small measure of order. I'm striking out at the craziness of the Universe and the busy-ness of daily life by having ridiculously well-ordered cabinets. It might be a sickness, but I am entirely okay with that.

So. Despite my vehemence regarding not posting photos of the inside of my fridge, or a close-up of my "office"... I offer for your perusal the interior of my kitchen cabinets:

Happy Now?

The whole idea of seeking after happiness is a warped one. Where does the idea that we have a right to happiness come from exactly? Newsflash: we do not have a right to "Be Happy". I am familiar with the right to the pursuit of happiness. There is a lapse between the original version of that idea and the modern mindset. "Happiness" seems to be all wrapped up in an assortment of shiny packages from possessions to power and prestige. If "happiness" isn't present one really ought to see someone about that...
On the other hand, there is joy. Joy is an outflow of the Holy Spirit--- a sometimes indefinable "something different" about a person. I'm not interested in being happy. It does happen, but "happy" is an emotion--- not a goal. Joy is more difficult because it is not a result of anything I can do, but of what has been done for me. It requires me to submit all my own will to the Will of an omniscient God who is fully in charge, but who chooses to allow me free will. (No, Alice, we're not going down that rabbit hole.) I'm not going to "pull one over on God", or likely to find Him waiting to smite me at the first sign of my disobedience. Choosing my way any time it departs from His way, I am going to miss out on a measure of the relationship He offers by choosing my own wants and desires over His commands.

Housework

There is a cobweb swaying in the breeze from my ceiling fan. If the fan stops moving, I will be able to see the grey accumulation of fluffy ick on the edges of the blades. That, and the Texas heat, are all the reason I need to keep those fan blades spinning. Theoretically, I could snag a duster and do away with both the cobweb and the fluff. It would also indicate that I can find nothing better to do with my time than dust.
This post is not for the neatnick. That soul would not last long here. Our house is organized, and the kitchen is clean, but my floors are not a place where one would ever want to apply the five second rule. (If you never apply the five-second rule, you should go to Hints from Heloise now... this post is not for you.) There are some things that I choose to ignore in the interest of doing things that are more meaningful in the greater scope of the universe. The household chores are always available, and while they they will be more time-consuming if left for later, the tasks will still be at hand tomorrow while I might miss out on something important if those chores become too much of a priority.
A friend gave a perfect example of this ideology: her family of six moved into a home, and there were boxes everywhere begging to be unpacked so they could see to the daily trivialities of sleeping on sheets, cooking in pans, and eating on dishes. Rather than unpack, and begin to turn the new house into their home, the family took the unusual opportunity of having a home decorated in "Cardboard Box" and "Maze" to play Hide & Seek. I believe they ate pizza off of paper plates. That's my kind of Mom.
Those types of opportunities come along, and I want to take them rather than being a slave to my housework. That said, I do know the chores must be done. So today we will play a little catch-up around here. The laundry, the dishes, the floors, the potties, and the dusting are all waiting... I guess I'll even flip off the fan while it is still relatively cool.