Good Times

You know how I wrote all about the importance of the ampersand last week? Well, that particular post was read by more people than any other of our blog posts combined. That was exciting for us! This week, our little ampersand is being put to the test. Don’t you just love how that happens? When I stepped out of the shower this morning onto what is typically a dry floor, I found myself standing in a steadily growing miniature lake. Around the corner I was greeted with soaking wet carpet. Not a good sign. Steve had already left for church, I was short on time, and Amelia was slated for acolyte duties (which we totally missed, by the way). I did the best I could to sop up the water, prayed for the best and went to church. When we got home, the lake had not receded, but at least it hadn’t grown. Now Steve is pulling up carpet, and a plumber has been called. Did I mention that this is also my first full week back at school? Good times!

Now we get the golden opportunity to put our money where our mouths (or carpet and pipes as the case may be) are and lean on that ampersand. I pray that I can face the challenges of this latest test with gentleness, kindness, and self-control. I also hope that I can look at this through grateful eyes and rejoice that we have indoor plumbing, a husband strong enough to tear out carpet like it is paper, and that plumbers are only a phone call away. Hey, I’ve always wanted waterfront property.

Blessings to you for a grateful week, whatever this week may hold.

It’s all about the Ampersand

 

I have been wanting to write this blog for a long while, but life just seemed to, you know… happen. This summer has been far busier than I ever imagined it would be with lots and lots of activities, some new and some familiarly comfortable like a pair of jeans that don’t require sucking anything in to pull them on. The biggest “new” to our family was Andy getting a real, honest-to-goodness-oh-crap-I have-to-go-to-bed-early-because-I-have-to-function-in-the-morning job. I will be the first to admit that I had visions of me getting up to make sure that the kid rolled out of bed on time to at least rinse off and slide the toothbrush across his million dollar (thanks to braces) teeth. Not so. Apparently, I birthed a morning person. Serious shocker given that I wake up, thank Jesus for another day, and promptly roll back over for more shuteye. The perks of summer.

Steve and I also celebrated our 20^th anniversary in June. Although I’m really not sure that “celebrated” is the right word to describe how we marked the occasion. Our anniversary just happened to fall on the day that the boys Chrysalis Flight began. Steve was the lay director and I had lots to do in the background. (For more information on Chrysalis, click here.) He received a twin size, inflatable mattress and three nights away from me. We really need to work on dialing down the romance, don’t we?

While the celebration to mark the occasion wasn’t quite what I had pictured, the one thing that stood out in my mind is that we were in the task together. I don’t take that for granted. That ampersand that joins our names together is something that we value and nurture every chance we get. For us, it is all about the ampersand. It means we are a team. I hope that we have done a good job of demonstrating that to our children. It is my hope and prayer that when the time comes for them to choose their spouse that they will consider the ampersand and the weight it carries. I also hope that they will understand that, like in real estate, location is everything. The ampersand does not just join two humans together, but God. A true cord of three strands. I hope that forever our ampersand will be God, Steve & Katie.

Here's to the Apple that Didn't Fall Far from the Tree

 

     I had to run a few errands last weekend and it was decided that Andy would do the driving on the account of it was raining and he needed some more practice driving in those conditions.  We had just finished up our to-do list when Andy pointed out that we were awfully close to the house that I grew up in and couldn’t we just drive by?  Of course my answer was yes. I don’t know about you, but for me when I drive by the house where the majority of my childhood was spent, I want to laugh, cry, and throw up from homesickness all at the same time.  And those feelings don’t just cut off at the house.  They are there at the crest of the hill where I first learned to ride my bike; they are at the corner where the kind, elderly couple lived that hired me to keep their hummingbird feeders filled one spring. The emotions start churning when I pass the house that belonged to a sweet family that lost their teenage son in a tragic car accident the year I was in eighth grade.  The flood of memories hits me when I glance to the left of my old house, now painted a stark white instead of the cheerful yellow I grew up with, and see the path that leads to the woods where many an adventure came to life with an army of neighborhood kids.  Andy steered the car a little further up the street and the memories kept coming.  And if you know me, you know I couldn’t just keep my thoughts to myself.  I found myself telling Andy all sorts of stories about the good old ‘hood (okay, I’ll admit I threw in a cautionary tale or two... plus, I had a captive audience.)  I miss my old house, the one that I spent ¾ of my childhood in. My parents moved long ago and I haven’t a clue who lives there now.  I only hope that that they have children who will one day have children of their own who will beg them to drive them back by their old home.  I hope that they shed a tear or two, as well. It is the mark of a childhood well spent.

*Update* I received our new school directory not long after I wrote this post.  Lo and behold, what jumps out at me on the very first page I turn to?  My old childhood address!  The kids that live in my old house go to my school!  I made a beeline towards them the next afternoon.  I think they thought I was half-crazed, but as luck would have it, their mom was there to pick them up and I quickly introduced myself.  I think she may have thought I was border line stalker material, but I did my best to explain that I had only happened upon the address thanks to the newly printed school directory.  I tried to convey to her just what that house meant to me.  She smiled and said that she was happy to report that wonderful memories continue to be made in that house.  She told me I was welcome to stop by anytime, but I’m not sure I will take her up on her generous offer. I’m not sure my heart could handle it.

Finding Your Super Power

   

     I live in a household full of super hero aficionados.   I hang around with friends who can successfully (and seriously) argue the strengths and weaknesses of Marvel versus DC Comics.  I don’t usually have a whole lot to add to their discussions, unless they are talking about Wonder Woman.  My friends are quite entertaining to listen to, especially when the topic turns to super powers.

     One discussion we had recently involved Clark Kent and his glasses.  We were on a cruise with some of our very best friends when one night after dinner, our friend took out his contacts and put on his glasses.  The change in demeanor was remarkable.  Our friend, who is normally calm and quiet, became a very lively life of the party.  It was Clark Kent in reverse.  From that point on whenever we saw him in his glasses, we knew we would be captivated by his super power of snarkiness.

     That got me thinking about what my super hero power would be.  Since I am sort of shy and I already possess an associate’s degree from the community college of sarcasm, I seriously doubt that donning my librarian style reading glasses would bring out any hidden power. Although it has been noted by many a fourth grader,  that when I push my glasses down to the end of my nose and peer over them, I have been known to give my students the super power of obedience with just “the look”.  I was kind of bummed that I couldn’t come up with anything more exciting.  Not that I spent that long lamenting over it.  Just a day or three.

     Anyway, we got back from the cruise, I did a face plant into reality and super power discussions were shelved, especially after hearing the sickening accounts of the Aurora, CO movie theater shooting.  I busied myself with getting my classroom ready, preparing my kids to go on a youth mission trip and trying to figure out a way to sweet talk my precious husband into letting me paint our living room peacock blue.  (For the record, I was successful in two out of three of those activities…)

     I’m not sure how I found myself in the little clothing boutique, because I had set out that afternoon to go get some school supplies.  Scouts honor, I was in the market for notebook paper and pencils, not a cute little black dress and another even cuter black dress that fit me in a size smaller than I had been wearing.   And that’s when I saw them… the perfect pair of red (but not too red) pumps!  They beckoned me with their darling little peek-a-boo-toe opening and from that point on, I had to have them.  Since my leg has been hurt, I have pretty much been resigned to wearing “granny shoes”… You know the ones… boring, flat and sensible.  I felt my heart race as I debated whether or not to even try them on, figuring I would never be able to wear them, much less stand up in them.  Well, not only did I stand in them, I could walk in them!  Euphoria came over me as I made my way to the register.  I have never in my life owned a pair of shoes that made me so excited to wear them.  I literally raced home (and by that I mean this by- the-book rule follower rolled through a couple of stop signs instead of coming to a full, complete stop and even entered an intersection on a yellow light).  I tore open the box and slid the shoes onto my feet.  I walked around the house in them for about an hour, stopping every so often to gaze at them in my daughter’s full length mirror. (I’m forty people… the last thing I want in MY room is a full length mirror!)

Yep, I had found my super power in the form of my new red shoes!  I wore them that evening as I discussed a delicate matter with an extended family member. The shoes gave me a new found confidence.   I dealt with another matter, not quite so delicate, but one that required some tough decision making that had been weighing heavy on my heart for quite a long time and breezed through it confidently as I wore my new shoes.  And yes, I am sure I looked like a total dork sitting at the computer wearing my t-shirt, shorts and my beloved new shoes.  But I didn’t care.  Just like the glasses had changed not only our friend’s appearance but his personality, these shoes gave me some confidence that I had been lacking for a good while.  Maybe Wonder Woman was right after all.  It is all about the accessories.

Now, in all seriousness, I know it isn’t really about the physical clothing or the accessories that give you any sort of “power” but I do find comfort in the fact that we are directed in Ephesians to put on the armor of God.

Eph 6:10-17 (NIV) ...Be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on the full armor of God so that you can take your stand against the devil's schemes. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled round your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.

  And so I will put on my full armor of God (the only being who posses true super power) each and every day, standing my ground against evil.  Just don’t judge me if I do it while wearing my cute new shoes.

                                                                                   

 

Oh, Randolph Mantooth… Where are You?!

     So most everybody that reads this blog knows that I have had quite the adventure these past six weeks with a suspected tendon tear, discovery of a benign bone tumor,  a blood clot that required a four day hospital stay, my body fighting the anti-coagulant,  and ongoing physical therapy.  It has been a crazy ride, but God has been so sweet to us through all of it, even down to allowing my family to enjoy some fabulous down time together while I have recuperated at home.  One of our favorite things to do together is gather around the television and watch TV shows from when Steve and I were kids, thanks to Netflix.  One of the shows that we have introduced the kids to is Emergency! It first aired in 1972 starring Randolph Mantooth and Kevin Tighe.  Steve and I both grew up watching the show and get all reminiscent from the moment we hear the iconic emergency notification in the opening sequence.  Let me tell ya… they really don’t make shows like that anymore.  No siree. 

     For those not familiar with Station 51 and Rampart General, let me fill you in:  Station 51 is the firehouse that cutie pie paramedics John Gage (Mantooth) and Roy Desoto (Tighe) are assigned to.  They, along with the other firemen respond to 911 calls in and around the Los Angeles area.  Just about every call demands a daring, nail biting rescue.  Once John and Roy assess the victims, they make a call into Rampart General using what only can be described as a prehistoric precursor to a cell phone. (If you only watch for that, you will be highly entertained!) Once Rampart receives the call, one of the medical staff quickly answers.  It is there that Dr. Kelly Brackett, more often than not, wisely advises John and Roy what to do next.  (BTW, he is also a cutie with his 1970’s mutton chops and rocks a very wide necktie.) Usually they are instructed to transport the patient to Rampart where they are looked after by the capable staff that includes Dr. Brackett, Dr. Joe Early and Dixie McCall, R.N.  The characters are based on the real life doctors and medical staff that trained these first responders making paramedic a household word.

     As fun and exciting as it is to watch Emergency!, it would never last in today’s market.  That’s because there isn’t enough dirt to dish on the characters. No affairs, no outing of lifestyles, no voting off the island.  Just good old adventure.  I am not sure what we will find to watch next after we finish the 100 episodes of Emergency!   Who knows, maybe we will walk on the wild side and witness Half-Pint tell Nellie Olsen off over in Walnut Grove.  Maybe.  Or maybe we will just sit back and re-watch Gage and Desoto pluck another victim from one disaster or another, all the while wishing that life really did come with a Station 51.

Running Naked… Trust me; it’s NOT what you think!

About two years ago I lost my mind and decided to start running… for FUN! Apparently the mind loss is long term, because I have managed to keep up the insanity and even enter a handful of local races. I have done the race thing enough times now that I have a rigid ritual in place prior to every event. I won’t pain you with the OCD details, but one of the first things I do is make sure my iPod is fully charged and ready to go. Running is fun, to an extent, but there are times when it is just you and the sound of your own gasping breath. That’s when DJ Einstein (Google him) and Justin Timberlake (told ya I was insane) swoop in and save the day. I pretty much have my playlist set to fit the hills and valleys of my running route. I am most definitely a creature of habit and music helps feed that habit.
That is why I was so disappointed to read that a race I was interested in entering was banning the use of any type of music devices. The organizers cited safety concerns and after viewing the course, I certainly saw their reasoning. With winding country roads populated by drivers not accustomed to seeing animals of the two legged variety with numbers pinned to their fronts sharing the road, this truly was a wise decision on the their part. I just couldn’t wrap my head around how I was going to participate in a race without anything but the thud of running shoes slapping the pavement to keep me company. I decided that the race just wasn’t for me.
I moved on to the next event that embraced earbuds and that was that. Kind of. For some reason, I kept thinking about running without music. I did a little research on it and lo and behold, found quite a few articles bestowing the virtues of “running naked”. (Let me stop right here and clarify I am not talking about the Naked Mile kind of running!) Not only did these folks advocate running without music, but they eschewed watches and any other running gadgets as well, claiming that being free to run without the time constraints and just listening to what’s going on around you is what running is all about. Yay for them. They probably grow their own sprouts and make their own yogurt, too. While I have no plans to take their running advice to heart, it did make me think about how the running naked theory applies to another area of my life. How many times in my daily spiritual walk do I become a creature of habit going through the motions? Do I make it a habit to run naked spiritually and actively listen to God speak to me? Or am I too busy calculating the next hill and relying on my own devices to see me through? How often do I really embrace Psalm 46:10 “Be still and know I am God.”? While I really don’t see myself giving up running with music or my trusty runner’s watch for that matter, I am going to challenge myself to be more open to running naked in 2012 when it comes to my quiet time. And sorry Steve, but that won’t have any impact on the clothing budget either.

There's Something in the Water

Andy got back from the youth mission week full of exciting news. The group had helped a family move, got the church food pantry set up in a new location and witnessed to the homeless in downtown Atlanta. Andy was telling us about everything when his face and tone grew very serious. Steve and I braced ourselves for what might be coming next. Very quietly Andy said, “Mom, Dad, I have seen the future… of drink machines!” Surprised at this revelation, but strangely moved to delve deeper into this change of topic in conversation, we discovered that there is a new kind of soft drink machine that will allow you to not only chose your poison at the touch of a button, but allows you to add cherry, vanilla, raspberry, grape, lemon, orange and lime to your concoction. Our son and the rest of the youth group had encountered this wonderful little invention on a dinner break in Atlanta.
Since Andy was fresh off a mission trip and in the I-want- to–serve- others- always -and -forever mode, I decided to take advantage of it and have him help me with some chores I had left to do at school. He agreed to accompany me and work at getting my room ready. I agreed to treat him to lunch at Zaxby’s, which we discovered had just installed one of these heavenly little drink machines Andy was so taken with. That afternoon, Andy and I ran into a co-worker of mine. As we chatted about school and how our rooms were coming along, she asked Andy how I had bribed him to help me. Figuring he would say he did it for lunch and a date with a futuristic soda fountain, I was stunned when he simply shrugged and said, “Na, I just got to spend time with my mom. That was pretty cool.” Wow! Either mission week had a larger impact than I thought, or there is magic in that Coke machine! Until I can figure it out, I think I will take the boy back out to lunch… at Zaxby’s.