The Times They Are A-Changing!

Daughter A got married last month, in a lovely little wedding that cost us all of $1500. The wedding dress we bought for $1 probably had a lot to do with that. While I was happy for her, I have to admit that I was a little sad about seeing things change. We love James and he's a great guy, and we welcomed him into our family with open arms. At least until he does something to make us mad, then all bets are off. Just kidding, James. Anyway, after 21 years I had gotten accustomed to having Dana under my roof, and now I had to get used to her living elsewhere. To be honest, I was looking forward to having a whole lot less to do now that the wedding itself is done.

And then.... and then....and then..... my daughter informed me (rather bluntly, I might add) that their new little family of two.... will be a family of three by the end of the year! I heard my Grandma tell Dana that she needed to get busy so that we can have 5 generations again, but I don't think she meant for Dana to get pregnant right away. I'm still not sure how I feel about this. I'm so not ready to be a grandmother. I'm still raising my OWN kids, for crying out loud! Now I have to find a name that means "my mother's mother" and yet doesn't make me sound like I should be able to get the senior discount at Hamricks.

And now that James is at Basic Training, Dana has practically moved back in. But that's OK.

On a more serious note (not that having a baby isn't serious enough), daughter B, who is struggling at school lately, has been prescribed ADD meds by the pediatrician. I took her in for a consultation and the ped said it was pretty obvious that she has ADD. On the one hand, I'm hopeful that she may finally get a chance to experience success at school. But on the other hand, I feel guilty somehow. It's like I think I should have been able to handle her without the help of meds. The past few weeks have been nightmarish in dealing with homework and bedtime, and basically any kind of transition. The very first day she used the patch, I could tell she was so much calmer. Even after the meds have worn off she's calmer. I think she feels so much more in control of herself on the patch that she feels more able to control herself the rest of the time. And while she's always been a sweet girl, lately it's like the sweetness has just risen to the surface. She's so much calmer ("less frantic" was the term her big sister used, and it's very true) that her younger sister has even calmed down. Go figure.

Second Place

I don't usually get to be #1. I'm not the star. I've never been popular, never been the kind of girl that boys were drawn to like moths to a flame, never been the life of the party. In fact, I tend to have friends who are "more" of those things than I am - more popular, friendlier, prettier, smarter, you name it. With the very notable exceptions of my God and my family, I am rarely the first choice. I'm the sidekick - the Ed McMahon, the Tonto, the Avis (we're number two so we try harder). When I was a teenager boys would generally approach me only to ask if my friend would go out with them. I used to wonder what it was about me that kept me in the background while other girls got all the attention, and I fantasized about the day when it would be MY turn to shine. (For the record, I still don't know and the day hasn't come yet, but I'm OK with that. Mostly.)

And then I grew up. I got married, had a baby, got divorced. (Yes, I was number one for that guy but not for long.) I had a wonderful friend named Donna who had gone through a similar experience and became my best of all best friends during that time. We propped each other up, held each other's hands during the tough stuff and basically did life together. One day I met up with a guy I had once known through my ex-husband. Scott was also divorced and we started hanging out together as friends. There was nothing remotely romantic going on except maybe in my own mind. Eventually I introduced him to Donna. Can you guess where this is headed? Sure enough he comes to me one day and says he needs to ask me a serious question and it turns out to be, do I think Donna would go out with him? I won't go into all the gory details but they DID go out and to add insult to injury, they fell in love and got married. I eventually got over the hurt and decided my friendship with each of them mattered more than my hurt feelings (or broken heart, depending on the day), and even sang at their wedding.

Recently I've been thinking about what I see as my tendency to come in second in life and trying not to feel sorry for myself. I know my self-worth lies in God's opinion of me and not what man thinks of me, etc., etc., etc., yet still it gets hard here on earth feeling like you always come in second. Furthermore, I know it's a trick of the enemy to make me feel worth less (not worthless but worth less). And then I found in my inbox a devotional about envy. Now, I'd like to think I don't have a problem with envy but in reality I do. Not all the time, but sometimes it creeps in and tries to steal my joy, or at least my contentment with life. So as I'm reading this devotional written by someone I admire (who doesn't usually finish second, I might add - I'm convinced Lysa Terkeurst was probably Homecoming Queen in high school) and she's admitting to being envious of what others have and do, I was a little startled. You mean that the grass is not always greener on the cheerleading squad? Sometimes the "winners" are envious too? She said that God pointed out to her that just maybe she wasn't equipped to deal with someone else's life, because every life has good and bad parts. We see only the good things and not the bad when we look at another person's life with jealousy or envy as our viewfinder. She said that now whenever she catches herself looking at someone else and envying their clothes, home, talent, looks, etc. that she says to herself, "I am not equipped to handle her life, both good and bad." God gives us what we need to handle OUR blessings and trials, not someone else's. And we have no way of knowing all the ups and downs of someone else's life.

I lost touch with Donna and Scott after Jon and I got married. Then a few years ago I was reading the newspaper when I happened across Scott's obituary. He died suddenly at the age of 37 of a massive heart attack. I called Donna and we talked for a long, long time that night. I know they had a happy life together and while I had long since gotten over the jealousy I felt at the start of their relationship, I was struck by how much time I had wasted back then feeling sorry for myself because I wasn't his first choice.

I don't know why I was never the kind of girl that guys flirted with, or got nominated for Homecoming Queen, or had tons of friends, or got the lead role in the plays. Maybe I am just not equipped to handle the pressure or the acclaim. For whatever reason, God has put me right where I am and I can live with that. Just call me Ethel. :-)

Something to Ponder

I was visiting some of my favorites websites last night when I became interested in a court case involving a particularly heinous crime committed in my hometown of Knoxville. One website led to another (sounds like I need some sort of internet AA and sadly enough, those organizations DO exist) and I found myself reading a transcript of the detective's interview with one of the defendants in the case. Apparently the transcript was released into public record somehow. Background: In January 2007, a young couple was carjacked, then kidnapped and taken to a home where unspeakable things were done to them repeatedly before they were finally murdered. One defendant was found guilty just yesterday and it hasn't yet been determined whether or not he will get the death penalty. The transcript I read was of an interview with his older brother, who owns the house where the young couple was taken after they were kidnapped. For simplicity's sake, let's call them Brother A and Brother B. And I probably need to say that this is all "alleged" until proven in a court of law.

According to the transcript, Brother A has a thriving drug sales business going on from his home. The detective is a little (a lot!) annoyed with Brother A for hiding from the police when they were looking for him after the first body was found, and Brother A says he knew he would "go down" for drug charges based on all the paraphrenalia in his house and wanted to lawyer up before he turned himself into the police. Oops. Brother B had been living in Kentucky but got into trouble with his usual crowd up there and came to visit Brother A for a while until the fuss died down. Brother A had been all over Brother B to "bring in some money" because A was tired of paying B's way all the time. Brother B went out and robbed a store but evidently that wasn't enough to stop the nagging, so he went out one day with a friend and came home with the couple's SUV and the couple tied up in the backseat. Brother A takes one look at the scene, knows (according to what he says in the transcript) that the couple cannot be allowed to live because they aren't "wearing hoods" and have seen too many faces, and tells Brother B how stupid he is. Brother B starts marching the young girl he has kidnapped up to Brother A's front door, passing Brother A on his way out (Brother A has stated he wants no part of this and is leaving). That young girl looks up at Brother A, makes eye contact and says, "I don't want to die." And Brother A leaves the premises, knowing full well what would ultimately happen to her.

Now, I realize that I was raised in a household with two loving parents and a wonderful extended family. We were poor. There are no two ways around it. I'm talking dirt poor. If you could see pictures of the house I grew up in you would be shocked. And yet if we needed money, holding up a store was not our first option. I'm sure many would say I'm naive or protected (and I'm sure they're right) but HOW does someone's life get to this point? HOW could that man walk past that girl, knowing she was doomed, and say NOTHING? He could have saved that girl's life, not to mention the horror she was about to endure before she died. Why didn't he? All it would have taken from him was a word, or even a phone call to 911. I guess what I'm saying is how did Brother A get to the point in his life that another human life meant nothing to him? I just don't understand. Are we as humans really such animals that we could walk right past someone when we KNOW they are destined to die and do nothing about it? Are we all about self-preservation?

And yet.... if you exchange the physical death for spiritual death, we do it every single day. How many people do we walk by every day who are dying inside? There are so many people out there who need the hope they can only find in Christ, and that's the mission of LifeSong. We KNOW what's going to happen to these people unless someone tells them about Jesus yet we have every excuse in the book to keep our mouths shut and mind our own business.

Even in the church we ignore those other believers who are hurting unless it's shoved right under our noses, and even then we often avoid it. Pain is messy. Who wants to get tangled up in someone else's problems? But we were created for relationship, first with God and then with each other. God calls us to love Him first and then to love our neighbor. It's hard to love other people, isn't it? Sometimes I think it would be so much easier if they were just more like me. :-) At least it would be more predictable, or for me it would anyway. So this is a reminder to me to keep my spiritual eyes and ears open for the pain around me.

Sometimes it's really hard to see the pain of others if they're trying to cover it up. I like to say I'm an open book, but there are many things I never share with anyone. I detest feeling pitiful and pathetic, and somewhere inside me there's some shame for not being able to take care of things myself. I've always been independent (some might say controlling - and they'd be right!) and that has led to pride. It's a challenge I wrestle with daily, and letting someone see my struggles is a huge deal for me. There's a wonderful worship song that goes like this: "Won't you let me be your servant? Let me be as Christ to you. Pray that I might have the grace to let you be my servant too." That song reminds me that when I let down my guard and allow others to help me, we're all blessed for it. Those walls I hide behind have been built with years upon years of suspicion, rejection and ridicule, but every time I peek out and find myself accepted, another section of the wall comes tumbling down.

Don't be afraid of someone else's pain or problems. God doesn't (always) call us to take on someone else to raise, but I think He does expect us to react with compassion and not contempt when we are confronted with a neighbor in need.

I don't know how this blog post ties together. This wasn't the way I expected it to go, but somehow here we are. Didn't mean to preach....

The Great Flood of '09

Wednesday morning I woke up when the alarm went off, hit the snooze button and said a half-hearted prayer in preparation for the first day of our church's called fast. As I lay in my bed I could hear a trickle of water and my sleep-addled mind thought it must be raining. But the longer I heard it, the more I realized that it was INSIDE the house. I got up and sprinted down the hall to find it raining in my kitchen! Water was literally pouring from the light fixtures. The toilet in the bathroom upstairs developed a leak in the little tube that goes from the floor into the back of the toilet. I guess it should be some comfort that at least it was clean water. Imagine the alternative - ewwww! Jon turned off the water then he and James set about minimizing the damage while I got the girls ready for school because oh yeah - this is the first week of school! Calls were made and very soon a nice guy named Charlie came and set up about a thousand (OK, ten) extremely loud (and appropriately named "Gale Force") fans in the worst hit areas, and believe me there were plenty of those. The bathroom itself was under about an inch of water, and it leaked into Karis and Quinn's bedroom and started down the upstairs hall. Downstairs the kitchen floor was wet but manageable, although the water leaked into the carpet in the dining room and hallway. The kitchen ceiling however... well, I'm just happy it didn't cave in.


Mopping up the floor with pool towels. They were the first ones we could lay our hands on and even though it's a mess, it's pretty to look at and that should count for something, right?

My naked concrete slab under the carpet after Jon and James wisely took out the wet padding. It was wet almost to the stairs. This is also what the floors look like in Karis' and Quinn's bedrooms. The carpet is peeled up halfway across the room and into the closets, and all the furniture and toys are piled up in the other half.

It was actually raining out through my light fixtures! Not. Supposed. To. Happen.

Then later I noticed a ripple in the white trim at the top of my dining room walls. Yep - water damage under the paint. I felt a little bit cheated when I found out that what looked like molding at the top of my dining room walls was actually painted onto the sheetrock.


Amy and Missi thought it would be funny if we took pictures of ourselves with the Gale Force fans blowing our hair back, like in a photo shoot. It's nearly as much fun as they make it look in magazines. In real life it's hard to keep your eyes open with that wind blowing into your face. And after a while my hair wanted to stay in that position. They've never mentioned those little tidbits in Vogue magazine, now have they?


Here's one of my little blue friends. He's pointed straight to the ceiling in an attempt to dry it out and keep the nasty mold away. I'm getting so used to these guys that I'm starting to give them names and talk to them. This is Papa Smurf, because he was here first. Every time I turn around I'm running into another one and I'm starting to think they're multiplying, like rabbits or wire clothes hangers. No kidding, I think we have about 10 of them right now.

Karis looks much cuter than I did with the windblown look.



Hiding behind this big guy is another little blue guy. We have the blowers and the suckers, and this big metal one is a sucker (dehumidifier). All of them are loud, though.


These two look like they're talking. Wonder what they're saying?
Big metal guy: Hey, what's a cute little thing like you doing in a place like this?
Little blue guy (or girl, in this case - must be Smurfette): What do you say we blow this joint?
Then then if they're anything like the rest of us, they'll both yell "What did you say? I can't hear you over all this fan noise!"
OK, so it was lame...at least I still have my sense of humor, warped though it is (kind of like my kitchen ceiling).



In an attempt to escape the constant noise, we are all holing up in the bonus room. Today we watched Sharkboy and Lavagirl in 3D. That tent behind Karis is also her bed last night and tonight, and however long it takes to have her room put back together.

I am not surprised by the timing of this little adventure. I know by now that whenever you are doing something for God, the enemy will come in and try to get you off track. Wednesday was the very first day of our churchwide fast and it would have been sooooo easy to get distracted with all the mess and phone calls and inconvenience. Somehow though (God's grace, I'm sure) I managed to find the time to sit down and read my Bible and pray. And it could have been much, much worse. My laptop didn't even get wet and no one got hurt. I figure if that's the worse thing that happened to me all day, I'm doing allright. Maybe I'll make that my new motto.

I am reminded of the old joke about the king who ordered a ring and told the jeweler to inscribe it with a sentiment that would fit any occasion, good or bad, but he could use only four words. The ones he chose: "This too shall pass". This is a blip on the screen of my life and it will be over soon.