Not enough room?

     I had to hold myself back today.  I about told a four year old girl where she could step off, real Christian right?  I managed to keep myself from unleashing on a bratty four year old, but just barely.  What did this girl do to make a grown woman get so mad?  She hurt my baby girl's feelings. 
     Tate and I got home from our gym/couponing morning errands and saw our sweet neighbors playing outside.  No sooner than I turned the car off  was Mary Ella poking her head into the carport asking if Tate could come play.  I love Mary Ella, she is beautiful inside and out and has a generous heart just like her mother.   Tate and I walked over to talk with Amy and the little girl she was baby sitting.  This little girl ran off, mad because Mary Ella had another friend.  While Amy and I were talking this little girl fell to the ground sobbing like she had been stung by something.  What was wrong with the little angel?  She was screaming that she wanted to go inside with Mary Ella, but not her other friend, my Tater.
    It was clear to me that this child gets just about what ever she wants with this crying/screaming routine.  Tate and I went back to our house and I could tell her feelings were really hurt.  Tate has thick skin, not much gets to her but this did.  After seeing my baby girl shunned by another child who made her feel unwanted it  really raised my hackles.  What is wrong with children?  For that matter what is wrong with women who are unable to be friends with more than one person?  I think part of the reason this ticked me off so much is that is has happened to me, and I know how much it stings.  I've run across a few women who are unable to be friends with new people.  I don't get it.  I have more space in my heart for friends than I have time to make new ones. 
    Because of the moving around Brad and I do I have become really good at reaching out to make friends.  It doesn't mean it's easy, I jut put on my big girl panties and do it.  Being the new girl stinks.  Feeling like an outsider stinks.  Watching those feelings manifest in my tough as nails Tater and watching it knock the wind out of her sails really stinks.  I wish little girls and grown ones alike would realize that there is no cap on the number of friends you can have.  There is room to be friends with as many people as you want.  My daughter nor I are looking to steal your friends or replace any  old ones.  Thankfully most of the women I have met are wonderfully welcoming.  The more places I live and the more people I meet I'm learning to find the people with room enough for more friends in their lives. 
     Tate is now napping, after a little special attention from Mommy.  I'm going to have my afternoon cup of coffee and be thankful for each of my friends who had enough room for me and my family in their lives. 

Won't you be my neighbor?

        My pastor gave a lesson this past Sunday on the good Samaritan.  He was teaching us about trying to strive for greatness, not just being great at something.  His said the path to greatness is difficult, costly, and can be uncomfortable.  I really enjoyed the lesson, but my mind wandered in a different direction.  The verse Luke 10:29 "Who is my neighbor?"  Is what caught me. 
       Neighbors are a big worry/concern for me because we are professional movers.  Who will our neighbors be?  Will they be friendly?  Are they dangerous?  Can we trust them?  Do they have children?  Are they the kind of neighbors I could call on in an emergency?  All of this floods my head when we start looking for a house.  I need to quit worrying so much, not one time has God let me down in the neighbor department.  What I learned last Sunday was that my "neighbors" are not only those that live near me, they are the ones traveling down the same path as me.  Hopefully they are headed the same direction, and God will whisper in their ear "She needs help"  when I am battered, bruised and too weary to get back up. 
      I'm trying to learn to be a good neighbor.  It's hard, like Pastor Jerry said.  I'm still learning how to be a "mommy friend", but I have had some great teachers.  Here's what I have learned:  Offer a little more than you think you can do.  I underestimate myself, out of fear of failure or disappointment.  When you have an inkling that your friend needs a little help, do it don't wait.  You may just be the support that she needs to keep from coming undone.  I know this from personal experience.  My friend Becky taught me more than she'll ever know.  The best lesson I got from her was to not wait for an invitation to come help, just go help.  She busted in my house after my miscarriage, after I expressly told her not to.  She came and cleaned my house when I couldn't, took care of my son because I was too broken to try, and she wouldn't let me be swallowed under a grief bigger than I could bare.  People that is Greatness in action, that is a "good neighbor".
     My other "mommy friends" teach me things daily.  My neighbor Amy teaches me that she is part of my village that helps raise my children.  Our kids play together every day, invade each others houses, and love each other like family.   She is one of the busiest people I know but she always has time for my children.  She volunteers to take my children when I need help.  She is invaluable to me.  She is a neighbor I know I can call any time day or night.
      I think I prayed all of my friends into my life.  Each of you seem like I checked you off of a shopping list.  God knows my weakness and frailty, and sent strong women to help me through each stage of my life.  God knows what  my children need and has sent people who are not only my friends but my children's friends too.   I need to let go of the fear of my children not having good memories of a family filled youth.  Their family lies all over the country.  Their cousins are the kids they play with, they have so many Aunts and Uncles that they see all the time,  they even have local grandparents to come watch their baseball games.  The needs of my heart were each filled by my God.   Each of you is my neighbor.  
      The question of "Who is my neighbor?"  is becoming easier to answer.  My neighbor is my friend.  My neighbor makes my day more livable.  My neighbor is the friend that has seen me with no make up, kids running wild, and I'm hanging on by a thread.  My neighbor is the parent of the sweet girl that is Tate's best friend, who I love like a sister.   God please keep filling my world with Good Neighbors.  Please let me continue to be on the same path as these women.  Please continue to whisper to them how much I need them.  God please make use of me and direct me to who needs me.  Let me be encouraged to offer more than I think I can do.   I don't know that I'm ready to try for greatness, I'm starting by trying to be a great neighbor.

Small Shoulders



I was woken up this morning at four a.m. by Brad's alarm. He rolled over, re-set it , and happily went back to sleep for another forty-five minutes. I lay curled up next to him for forty five minutes plotting his murder, and it involved the cord of said alarm clock. Once we got up and I made breakfast and packed his lunch I sat in my chair and had coffee. I began to write a blog about my hatred of clock re-setters and snooze button pushers, but my laptop had a brain fart and it was erased. That just made me more angry. So next I did my coupon homework and grumbled to myself for a few more minutes. Turner walked out at six on the dot and it was time to start the day.




My bad mood didn't have a chance to get rolling this morning. The kids and I cleaned like crazy people for an hour and half. After that we all got dressed and ready for school, I had to take pictures of my boy. He is participating in Winn's Well Project today. He is carrying a gallon of water with him every where he goes today to bring awareness about how may people in the world don't have access to clean drinking water. People pledge money, and it is being sent to dig a well for a village in Africa. Turner has been so excited to participate.



Tate and I brought lunch to school today for Turner. I really just wanted to check in on him and encourage him. That gallon of water is about one fifth of his body weight and a lot for a kindergartner to tote around all day. When I saw him lugging his gallon down the hall my heart grew two sizes. He's one of only three in his class to attempt the water packing challenge.



I have been proud of my son many times. When he took his first step, when he spoke my name the first time, when he learned to drive his four wheeler, when he got his first hit in a baseball game, or made his first goal on the soccer field, all were proud moments. But today I felt a different kind of pride. Today is not only a physical feat, today Turner chose to do something from his heart to help others he doesn't know and will never meet. Turner "gets it". The world is bigger than just the small part he lives in. I am in love with a man in the making. I heard a quote yesterday that said "It is easier to build a boy than it is to mend a man". So true.



I hope so much for my son. I hope these little tests and lessons help build my son. I hope they make a mark in his heart and make him become a compassionate man. On his small shoulders there is much responsibility. I rely on him to be more grown up than he should have to be. I worry constantly that our moving will damage him. That repeatedly leaving friends and laying that heartache on him will close up his heart and harden my sweet boy. On days like today when the rest of the world can see his heart, packed around like a gallon jug, I have hope that he will remain sweet and compassionate.  Today, though it started off rocky, is a good day. Today I am in awe of a little man who carries a gallon of water and my heart everywhere he goes.

Where You are

   I thought You were in a building.  In my mind You only walk through amber colored sunlight that's filtered through stained glass windows.  You smell like long worn suits and Easter corsages. I tried leaving You in that building.  I turned my back on You and walked in to my twenties, not caring that You were waiting for me, always waiting for me.
   You were still waiting when my son came.  You let his tiny hands hold my heart and open my eyes.  You gave me a son so I could understand the Son You sacrificed for me.  You sneak up on me in places I don't think You frequent.  You are in the swirl of cream in my coffee.  You are in a dark high school auditorium.  You pulse in the drum beat and drift over the loud music played on Sunday mornings.  The more I seek You the more You show me Your many unexpected forms. 
     You are in my friends faces.  You are the phone call that gets me through the worst days.  You provide me with a new family in each city You set me in.  You are in the palm of my husband's hand when he holds mine.  You are also in my chaos. You are in my mind when it won't shut down and let me sleep.  You are in the last bit of energy that helps me finish my day.  You are everywhere I am, I am only now beginning to see that.  All the time I thought You were waiting for me to come back to You, You were already with me.   Thank You for letting me be where You are.

Jesus and Joe

    I have been a life long insomniac.  I can usually go to sleep, it's staying that way that is a reach.  I roll over and click my mind turns on and won't shut up.  I think the the same way I drive, fast and all over the place.  So I have given up laying motionless and just go ahead and get up.
    Waking up with Brad at 3:30 some mornings is not hard, I'm up any way.  I do like the mornings he sleeps in til 5:00 and we both sleep a little longer.  I love morning.  I love the time before the sun comes up, the quiet and stillness of my house.  I fix my cup of coffee and turn on my laptop.  I have to check and see if anyone has emailed me the night before, what has happened on Facebook in the past twenty-four hours, the news, the weather etc.  I look forward to my email from Jesus.  He sends one every morning.  I know it's not actually Jesus sending it but sometimes my little email devotionals are so accurate and in tune with my life I think there's no way He didn't send it. 
    I am a lazy Christian of convenience.  I do not kneel to pray, I have never read the Bible in it's entirety, and I'll skip church to go four wheeling at the drop of a hat.  I want to be the person that kneels and that has read all of The Book, but I am not there yet.  I know I'm not that grown up yet, so instead I signed up for daily devotional emails a few years ago.  It's so easy!  Wake up and in your in box is a lesson, who knew? You can even read it in the car on your phone.  Perfect for me.
      I have only had my coffee pot for nine months.  It has fired up every morning since I unwrapped it.  I enjoy my coffee alone in the stillness and I swear Jesus is a coffee drinker.  My time with alone in the mornings is when those little notions and thoughts that wake me up and won't let me go back to sleep flutter through my mind.  I think that "intuition" is probably God trying to tell me what He wants from me, I am still just not able to hear all of it, my pride, fear, vanity, and stubbornness are in the way.  Seeking Him is hard for a Type A gal like me.  Mornings are the only time I am quiet enough to have a chance of hearing His plan for me.  So to heck with sleeping!  I am going to try to get better at listening.  It scares the pants off of me, to try to give control over of my daily decisions but I need to.  I need to give myself over in a loss of control, maybe then my life won't seem so out of my control.
   I am pretty sure God put me with Brad and sent us on this cross country adventure to teach me to let go.  I want to keep everything just the way I like it, and I now have absolutely zero say so in where I live, how long I stay there and who I'll meet.  I pouted like a child and had a heart full of resentment the first few years in Arizona.  It was the hardest thing to leave my sister, my family and my friends.  I hated Brad and held it against him for so long.  When I gave up pining for what I thought was best for me God showed me what He had in mind instead.  Low and behold, He kind of knows what He's doing.  I have lucked up on the most amazing friends.
   I think I'll have and extra cup o' joe this morning and try to listen a little harder.  God You know I am a slow learner when it comes to this, stubborn and prideful.  Please fill my heart with Your direction and cup with enough coffee to to get me started.

Two Feet by Two Feet

   

What unit is happiness measured in?  My weight is measured in pounds, my gas and milk are measured in gallons, my food is measured in ounces, and my happiness is measured in feet.  Two feet by two feet is the space of my happiness.
     My happiness creeps down the hall every morning at six a.m. on the dot. He walks in to the living room and scoots right up beside me.  My happiness knows that I will have coffee for two waiting on him.  My heart is full when I am smashed into my chair crowded out by my son. 
     Raising a man is such an odd process.  My son will be a man one day and I am simply along for the ride.  I hope all that is good and sweet about him now stays with him into adulthood.  I hope the habits he and I create stick with him.  Will he always get up and drink coffee and talk with the woman in his life about what he dreamt the night before?  Will he continue to start his days with a bowl of oatmeal and a devotional lesson? 

      I love morning, before it is light.  The day is new and untarnished.  Morning is an opportunity, the beginning of what you make your day to be.  I love sharing this time with the other morning person in our house.  I know Turner is awake before six, just like me.  He knows to stay in his bed til six then he slips out and we cuddle.  We talk and I stroke is bed mussed hair and smell his little boy morning breath.  Morning is my time with my son.  It's my two feet by his two feet in the chair and it's what a measure of happiness is.

My Person

   I miss Sweetness.  The "Outage" started this weekend.  What is an outage? Hmmm, I'm not sure I know what an outage is, but here's my understanding of it:  An outage is a set number of days that certain parts of the power plant will be shut down for work to be completed in.  Sounds simple enough.  Plan the work, shut some stuff down, work and return to normal.  Not so much.  We won't be seeing Brad much from now until April twentieth.  He'll work more hours than any one man should in a day, sleep a couple hours then go right back to it.  He'll be at Plant Scherer more than one hundred hours a week.  When I hear people complain about their eight hour work day I sit on my hands to keep from accidentally punching them in the throat.  Thank God for OSHA guidelines, if not for them Brad would work several twenty four hour shifts in a row. 
    I call Brad my Sweetness.  Sounds better than my person, but my person is what he is.  I never think of him as my best friend, he's more like my right hand.  He's my constant, and what a strange match we are.  I was reading a friends blog this morning and it made me smile.  My friend Wendie has cancer and is fighting through chemo.  She wrote that she was falling in love with her husband all over again.  It made me remember the weeks I spent in the hospital and how that made me fall in love with Sweetness all over again.  If I ever doubted my husband's love for me all questions were answered in May of  2009. 
     I miss my person when he works all the time.  We did get to go to a fantastic party last night and stay at a beautiful winery.  It was great and I needed time with my husband.  As soon as we got home Sweetness was out the door to work.  He'll work til midnight tonight, sleep "late" til six and then go right back.  He'll work eighteen hour days for the next two months, and I'll miss him.   He is a work-a-holic, but it's not that simple.  He's not working like this because he likes it, it's necessary.  Apparently the city of Macon will not volunteer to go with out electricity for a month or two so PCL's crews can work a normal fifty hour week and have time for their families.
     The next couple months are going to be hard.  Our little family will be member short most of the time.  Turner will be starting baseball and Brad won't be around to practice with.  Dinners will be served to a table of three and singing God our Father will sound empty without Brad's voice in unison with ours.  The little time Sweetness is home he will be burnt out, tired and his mind will still be at work.

     I am looking forward to April twenty first, when I get my person back and life is back to a version of normal.  I want to plan a camping trip and steal Sweetness from work and the kids from school.  I want fires at night, fishing, and just being together as a family.   So the count down has begun, seventy four days til I get my Sweetness back.