New Orleans, Here We Come!

Well, I have hinted at the fact that there have been big changes brewing in our life as of late. I have been skirting the details for two reasons -

1. I envisioned telling each of our friends individually so there would be no injuries as people fainted and

2. I don't have many details in the first place.

I quickly realized that there is no way I can call and tell everyone one on one. I'll call as I can, but there's just a lot going on right now. So, here's the skinny on what's up with us.

If you read the title of this post, you've probably already made the connection between my innuendos of late and this post. If not, I'll go ahead and spell it out for you. Papa has asked us to move to the New Orleans area to help with the recovery efforts. "How?," you may ask. That's a good question, and I'll be glad to let you know as soon as Papa tells me. "When," is probably the next question on your lips. Again, fantastic question. Let me get back to you on that one. "For how long?," may be another issue you're pondering. Once more, excellent query; my answer is I don't know.

At this point, you pretty much know what I know, which is that Papa has asked us to move 6 hours away to an area that has endured horrible devastation and may endure more before the next couple of days are over. I have listened to more mocking comments today than I care repeat here about why people would rebuild that area. I wondered that too until I took more than 5 seconds to think about it. Let me take a few minutes to clarify at least my thoughts on the matter.

First, who says they are safer somewhere else? Think about it, every area of the country is prone to one type of natural phenomena or another - California has earthquakes, the coastal areas have hurricanes, some of the other gifts of Mother Nature are snowstorms, tornadoes, hailstorms, flooding, mudslides, drought, etc. The list could go on and on. I don't hear myriads of questions about why people continue to live in other areas subject to those types of disasters. Personally, I believe if you try to run away from one natural disaster, you'll probably find yourself dealing with another one of a different type. The truth is that you cannot escape the effects that nature - be it hurricane or otherwise - inflicts upon our lives. Besides, I always figured that at least with a hurricane you have a little warning so you can skedaddle before it hits if you need to.

Second, that is their home. If a hurricane hit here and destroyed Baytown, Houston, Galveston, etc, I can pretty much guarantee that people would rebuild. Why? Because this is their home. Should improvements be made to help protect against future disasters? Certainly!

Third, let me just say that St. Bernard Parish (where Dan went on the mission trip and where we feel called) is where Katrina did the most damage. The rebuilding is mostly being done by individuals, church groups, etc. The government is not down there pouring money into rebuilding all these homes. More importantly, many people need someone to pour themselves into rebuilding lives, not just infrastructure.

That is where we come in. Oh, I don't know how much of an impact we will make, but we are certainly going to give it our all. I fully expect that we will see people's lives impacted; some of those lives will be our own. I know it will be hard, and I do not relish the thought of leaving our family (both the spiritual and biological), especially with gas prices so high. However, I know that my Father goes with me wherever we go.

Right now Papa is only giving us one piece of the puzzle at a time. We will keep everyone updated as we move forward. Please be praying that we will make wise decisions as God directs us. Pray that He will open the financial doors that will have to be opened in order for us to go. Please agree with us in seeking His favor and guidance in every step of this adventure.

Well, that about sums it up. Now, you know all that I know (or at least what I think I know). I find myself full of excitement but with a bit of trepidation as we begin this next phase. It will mean trusting Papa as we never have before, which is a little harrowing. However, it will mean trusting Papa as we never have before, which is completely amazing and exhilarating. I look forward to sharing this tremendous adventure with you!

Blessings!

The Importance of Friends

I have all kinds of friends. First and foremost, there are my friends who are also my family - like my husband, my mom and my sister. Then there are the people that I have been friends with for so long that they might as well be my family. There are friends that I see once in a blue moon because they live so far away from me. I also have friends that live within an hour's driving distance, and I still only see them once in a blue moon (thank you gas prices!). Thankfully, I have friends that I see weekly or even more often than that. There's no denying that friends are the most valuable gift God gives us (aside from salvation, but, duh!, didn't we already know that one?).

Seriously, Father puts such amazingly wonderful people in our lives. I have two very specific friends that if something is going on in my life and I need to let it all out, they are just a phone call away. And they don't judge me for my frustration. They don't try to fix my problems. They just listen and commiserate with me, if necessary. Of course, that road goes both ways.

Isn't it fantastic how many different, beautiful people with whom we share this life? I am completely dumbfounded by how blessed I am. I have friends that if no one else in the world thought I was sane because of the choices I make, they would stick with me. I have no doubt that they pray for me just as I pray for them. We uphold each other in the tough times and do the happy dance when things go our way. Wouldn't life be dull without our friends?

My friendships range in age from 31 years to just a few months (that's saying something because I just turned 33 last week!). Some of them were instant friendships like my college roomie, April. The first day we met we were immediately friends and wrangled the system so we could room together. She's on her way back to Mongolia with her husband right now for another term as missionaries.

Some of them took time to develop like my friendship with my sister. You know, we had the "you're a pain, no you're a pain" syndrome growing up. I guess that's what happens sometimes when your less than two years apart in age. But, we've come to appreciate and value each other as more than just sisters. We're friends, and when no one else can understand where we're coming from, we have each other.

There is just nothing else on earth like a friend. A friend is a tender heart, a listening ear, a shoulder to cry on, and two arms to hug you. But they are so much more than that. They embody so many of the characteristics we want to see in ourselves and often some of the things that drive us crazy about who we are. No matter where I go or what I do, I know I have an amazing group of friends supporting me.

And wherever I go, I know that Papa will always gift me with a new friend or two. So, to all my friends past, present and future - thank you for being who you are in my life. I think it's important that you know how much you are loved and appreciated. Each of you has made me a better person for knowing you. I just thought you should know.

Now, go hug a friend!

How Do You Know It's God?

I'm going to jump right into my post without any cute tie-ins this time because my heart is full. So, I'm going to pour it out. The question that is coming upon me with the intensity of a high speed train is this: "How do you know it's God?"

Father is calling our family to do something new and exciting. It will most certainly stretch us and cause us to grow. To be frank, we have already shared with a few (very few) close friends and family what God's next step is for us. There are several people that I want to talk to in person, so I won't spill the beans just yet. However, we have received a bevy of mixed reactions thus far.

I did not expect fanfare or full support for this decision. I knew that from the outside looking in it would appear foolish to some. We have had some friends that have been fully supportive, and those are the reactions that help me make it through the other, less-enthusiastic responses. I have heard rumblings, whispers even of the age-old question. None have voiced it per se, but it has been hinted at, nevertheless. How do we know when God is speaking?

My husband came to me to discuss what he believes is Papa's next adventure for us. I proceeded to explode all over him. God told me all of this before my husband talked to me. I knew weeks beforehand. But, I had sort of pushed these thoughts away as I would shoo an annoying fly. When Dan came to me with this, I let loose all of the pent-up feelings that I had been shoving beneath the surface for so many days.

I think my wonderful, patient husband half expected this reaction, but I did not. It took me a few hours of coming to grips with what I already knew and a heart-to-heart with Papa. His words to me were these: "You can either exist discontentedly in your comfortable life, or you can follow me and discover a new life living in my power and freedom." Now, all of that may seem random and somewhat vague, but it spoke to me exactly where I was living.

So, how do we know that this is God's plan? Well, that is hard to explain, which is why I find myself scrambling to find words to describe the assurance I have. I've always described it as the "you know that you know" phenomena. There is just this deep-down, 100% proof positive, know-it-in-your-knower feeling that is only there when Papa is involved. It think it goes back to the scripture in John 10:3-5. Let's pick up midway through verse 3 where it says:

³The sheep hear his voice, and he calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. ⁴When he has brought out all his own, he goes before them, and the sheep follow him, for they know his voice. ⁵A stranger they will not follow, but they will flee from him, for they do not know the voice of strangers.

It takes practice and listening. There have been times when I have foolishly followed my own desires claiming them as Father's. But there is a sureness and a certainty that only comes with His voice. There is a peace that only encompasses me when I know I am in the center of His perfect will. Today as I type this, I have that certainty and that overwhelming peace.

That, my friends, is how you know it's God. You just know it in your knower. If you are His child, you will learn to recognize the voice of your Father. There aren't any fancy tricks - no lightning bolts or booming voices from heaven (at least not in my experience). Often, what He has asked you to do may not seem as attractive as your plans for yourself. Then again, my parents always told me that veggies were good for me, but when I was 5, I thought M & M's and twinkies would make a fantastic dinner.

If we act only based on our view of circumstances, we are destined to falter frequently in this journey with God never truly walking in His fullness. However, if we relinquish our death grip on these things we hold so dear and reach out to Papa and all He wants for us, we will quickly find that there is much more to this life than what we convince ourselves is important. So, "He who has ears, let him hear" what Father will say to you.

Balance

Well, the Olympics are over, so I've come back to the real world. Actually, I've pretty much been back in the real world since the first week ended. It just seemed like everything was anti-climactic after Michael Phelps won the 8th gold medal. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed the other events. There just wasn't the same drama involved.

In honor of the ongoing controversy surrounding the gymnastics events I thought I would talk about balance. You know, I think the event that amazes me the most is the balance beam. The rest of it looks intimidating as well, but there's something about the thought of having to do all those flips, twists, twirls and jumps on a little 4 inch beam that stands 4 feet from the ground. These days I would be doing good to finish a cartwheel on the ground without landing on my bottom in embarrassment never mind trying to keep it on a beam. Those pint sized gymnasts do mind-boggling gymnastics on that narrow little beam - simply astounding!

I feel like I've been doing a little balance beam of my own in life lately. I'm trying to balance my daughter, my husband, my house, blogging, my music, photography, reading everything I can get my hands on about photography, learning Adobe Photoshop CS3, biking, scrapbooking and all the other little things that fall in between. To be honest, I don't really feel I have been excelling in any of these areas. The problem is that I feel inexplicably drawn to all of them - well, the "inexplicably" refers to the photography, blogging, etc. not to my family responsibilities. Those are extremely explicable.

In any case, the challenge now becomes: How do I balance all of these different areas of my life without neglecting any of them? Some might say that I need to downsize - you know, streamline a little. No one needs all of those things in his/her life, right? I might disagree with you on that point. Oh, some of those things can slide a little, but I truly believe that Papa has put each of these things in my life for a purpose (again this is not referring to my family - obviously, my family is number 1 on the priority list). I may not understand the reasons right now, but I feel that it is important for me to pursue each of these endeavors to the best of my abilities.

Where does that leave me? Well, it kind of leaves me on the balance beam of life. Those incredibly gifted athletes have to work not only to master each move of their routine. They also have to work to not let the pressure of the situation impact their performance. And I think that is one area where I have faltered as of late. I have allowed the pressure of daily life to distract me from the truly God-appointed things in my life.

It's funny but sometimes I get so ahead of myself that while I'm completing one thing, I am already thinking ahead to the next. That is not the best way to approach a task or goal - thinking past it to the next thing. I heard the commentators during the gymnastics (especially on balance beam) say again and again that it looked like the gymnast had tried to move on to the next element before completing the one they were performing. It resulted in everything from slight balance checks to 100% falls from the apparatus. So, it's proof-positive that I should keep myself reined in and complete one step at a time.

The scripture that really came to mind as I was writing this is John 15:1-5. I think it is an important reminder to me, and hopefully, to you:

¹I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinedresser. ²Every branch of mine that does not bear fruit he takes away, and every branch that does bear fruit he prunes, that it may bear more fruit. ³Already you are clean because of the word that I have spoken to you. ⁴Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in me. ⁵I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing.

In any case, I am purposing in my heart to put away the unimportant to focus on the Father-given passions in my life (family, blogging, my music, photography, etc.). The time-wasters will bear no fruit in my life, but if pruned and tended properly, the goals Papa has dropped into my heart will bear bushels of spiritual fruit. And I pray that as I walk this balance beam called life I will become more adept at keeping that balance with minimal wavering.

Take The Plunge!

Have you ever stood at the edge of a diving board and looked down into the water? Maybe you were too scared to jump. And perhaps you were just as scared to climb back down too. One thing was for sure, you had to make a choice because you certainly couldn't pitch a tent on the board and live there. So, you rallied your courage, took that first step and jumped. That's where I am - on the diving board taking that first step.

I just returned from a birthday party for one of Avari's friends. It was a swimming party - man, I always loved those as a kid! Of course, all of the kids were older than Avari, and most were jumping off the small diving board at the deep end of the pool. For some, the first time they jumped they were filled with trepidation. Most took the plunge. One dad gave an encouraging push to his son. It was funny to see that for each of them the first time was the hardest. After jumping into the unknown, they found that it was actually a lot of fun.

That is what I am finding in my life over the last couple of weeks. God has challenged me and my family to do something truly audacious. I cannot really speak in specifics right now, but suffice it to say that we will have to move out of our comfort zone in a big way.

I wasn't particularly thrilled with Papa's challenge. In fact, at first I considered refusing Him. That lasted all of an hour. Last Sunday I had a particularly frustrating morning. There's no point in getting into the gory details. Let's just say that prior to our service starting I had endured enough trials to take the wind out of my worship sails. I made up my mind that despite or maybe because of these frustrating circumstances I was going to worship my Father with all my strength. I could hear Him whisper as I played my guitar, "You can either stay where you are and live in misery, or you can walk with me into the unknown and live in joy and power." Can you guess which option I chose?

Now that I'm taking that leap of faith, I'm finding that while the butterflies are still there, I'm really looking forward to these new vistas we will be exploring. I am sure we will encounter some bumps along the way, but the rewards far outweigh any risks. And, of course, there really is no risk when you are walking in His will.

So, climb that ladder, shuffle yourself out to the edge of the board, and jump into Papa's will and His open arms!!

Imagine All The People . . .

I know I'm a day late (several days, really) and a dollar short (I'm usually a dollar short) with this post, but I couldn't resist talking about the opening ceremonies of the Olympic Games. I normally skip over the fanfare of the opening ceremonies because it is a little dry for my taste. I watched this opening ceremony while I was waiting for my husband to get home on Saturday (ah, the beauty of TiVo). I sat astounded as I watched the spectacle.

I have to say that I was mesmerized by the coordination of so many people working in unison. As the cubes bounced up and down with such amazing precision, I sat trying to figure out if the effect was produced by hydraulics or some other modern ingenuity only to be dumbfounded when it was revealed that it was all done by Chinese performers. I have to say that the best part was watching the little boy march around the stadium with Yao Ming. To think that this little boy saved the lives of two of his fellow classmates is overwhelming.

I love the Olympics. I love the rivalries. I love seeing the native dress from all over the world. I love the personal stories that cause me to root for someone from halfway around the globe to win an Olympic medal. I love the emotion when those athletes mount the medal stands to receive their hard won rewards and then tear up as they hear their country's anthem played. Most of all, I love the beautiful faces representing all of humanity on an international stage.

I suppose of all the televised events this one makes me long the most for heaven. Weird, huh?!? Not really, in the few days that the Olympics last we allow ourselves to put aside some of the animosity and preconceived ideas about other cultures. Instead, we look on the faces of people just like ourselves but with slightly different accents and maybe a preference for some foods I wouldn't consider delicacies. It just makes me think about how varied and beautiful heaven will be.

I suppose for now I will go on living vicariously through the Olympic Games. Thanks to the advent of splitting the summer and winter Olympics, I am able to relive this experience every two years. So, if you wonder where I've disappeared to over the next week and a half, I'm admiring my future neighbors and cheering on Michael Phelps!

Did You Hear Him Whisper?

I was reading my daughter the story of Elijah the other night, and we came to the part where Elijah thinks he is the only one left who is still serving God. Then God does something a little strange. Let's pick up the story in I Kings 19:11-13

¹¹And he said, "Go out and stand on the mount before the Lord." And behold, the Lord passed by, and a great and strong wind tore the mountains and broke in pieces the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. And after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. ¹²And after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire the sound of a low whisper. ¹³And when Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his cloak and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave. And behold there came a voice to him and said, "What are you doing here, Elijah?"

Of course, the other night we were reading the children's version of the story, but I thought to myself, "Isn't it odd how often we look for our Father to rend mountains in two and shake the earth to speak to us when the whole time He has been whispering in our ears?"

Sometimes it just turns my stomach how sensationalistic we can be. We want to be wowed by God, but we want to dictate how He wows us. It is truly a sad commentary on how we are living out our faith if we are constantly looking for the next big thing to come along.

Let me expound on this by giving you an example from my own life. I have a good friend who I appreciate more with each passing day. She is a Texas transplant and said the other day that she has never seen a sky as big as the Texas sky. Well, of course, that just flattered my Lone Star heart to no end. She went on to describe how much beauty she finds in our Texas sky. You know, I started paying attention over the last couple of weeks, and she is right. Our sky is absolutely magnificent. No matter the weather, there is some sincere beauty in that sky. I was wowed by the creation of my Father.

It speaks volumes to me that though He has the power to shake the mountains and move the seas He chooses to communicate quietly with Elijah. He longs to do the same with us. For us to hear His whisper requires infinitely more trust than to wait for the "prophet" or "minister" to tell us what God is saying.

So, you see, if we're waiting by the loudspeakers for the booming voice from heaven, we may miss the main show. He is whispering to our hearts with all the love He has for us. He is drawing us to Him, loving us, caring for us. We just seem to miss those moments searching for the bigger ones. There are vast vistas of relationship that we have not even laid eyes on because we cannot see past ourselves. I for one hope to leave behind the noise and spend some time whispering with Papa.

Parenting Is Not Glamorous!

It's been a trying week here. I have a new respect for single parents. Doing everything is no fun at all. It's nice to have a spouse to come home after work and take over the parenting for a few minutes so you can go hide in the closet and cry to release the stress of the day. I am counting the minutes until my husband gets home on Saturday. I haven't decided whether I will kiss him first or hand my daughter to him and run the other way singing "nah, nah, nah-nah-nah."

Really, my daughter is an angel. I don't give her enough credit for how well-behaved she really is. However, after being the only sounding board for a 2 1/2 year-old whine fest this afternoon, I'm ready to start rocking back and forth, eat my hair and try to find my happy place! Being a parent is not glamorous, but it is worth it.

We started our morning with Avari standing next to my bed with her pants down around her ankles. You see, she's figured out how to pull them down to go potty, but she hasn't quite gotten the wiping and pulling them up yet. I cleaned her up and gave her a bowl of cheerios for breakfast, her standard fare.

Then I proceeded to get ready for my doctor's appointment. We had a row over why she could not go with me to the doctor. How do you explain to a 2 1/2 year old that an OB/GYN visit is no place for a toddler? She then decided Mommy should just stay home and play with her and became inconsolable when I explained that was out of the question. We talked over the fact that she would get to go play at her Grammy and PawPaw's house. That seemed to smooth things over a bit.

She had another meltdown when I was combing her hair. I think it had something to do with the fact that I had to spray some detangler on her hair to get the comb through it. Then she was mad that her shirt was wet because she pulled the towel off her hair before I could get it dried off a little.

When we finally left the house at 9 am, I was almost looking forward to the OB/GYN! We made it to my in-laws' house; I coerced a kiss and hug from my darling progeny and managed to extricate myself with no further drama.

I made it to the doctor on the other side of downtown Houston and back in 2 hours, which has to be some sort of record. While I was there, he asked me if my husband and I were thinking more seriously about having another child (if you haven't been here before, it took quite a bit of medical intervention and a miracle from God to get our daughter). After this morning, my first thought was "Are you crazy?" No really, that isn't what I thought. Well, maybe, if I'm being honest, I thought it for a split second. But I explained that we were going to allow God to do whatever He wants in our lives, and if that includes another child, we'll leave that up to Him.

I made a quick stop at the bank to deposit a check where I was berated by the teller at the drive-thru. I had forgotten to list my account number and also forgot to sign my check. She apparently took it as a personal slight and drew great offense from my oversight. I thought to myself that after this morning she was lucky I had remembered the check at all, and I quickly signed it and sent it back to her.

I arrived back at my in-laws' at about 11:30 am. I had a nice few minute visit with my mother-in-law who I think should be made a saint after raising 3 boys (especially my husband who was a particularly difficult child). We drank a soda (I hadn't had a bite to eat or anything to drink all morning. I can thank blood work for that little gift) and discussed life in general.

We made it out to the car where my independent child decided she needed to climb in our SUV and her car seat with no help. That normally adds a good 5-10 minutes onto the loading time. I got her buckled in and climbed in the front seat. By the time we were backing out of their driveway she was asking me for her favorite CD, which I had managed to leave at home. She grumbled about that for a few minutes until she found something more interesting to do.

We made it home, and I prepared to put my angel down for her nap thinking, "I am going to have one glorious hour of peace and quiet in which to iron clothes!" I know, sounds like paradise, right? Who needs a 5 star spa when you can get a steam bath hovering over an ironing board trying to get the wrinkles out of teeny-tiny, frilly, little girl clothes? Seriously, have you ever tried to get all those ruffles wrinkle-free?

About the time I settled down to my first sustenance of the day (a bowl of raisin bran - I was too tired to make a sandwich), I heard the whine machine commence. I left my "meal" to find out what was causing the bee in my daughter's bonnet. She was contorted into a pretzel shape saying something about "it hurts." My response: "What hurts?" Her answer: "Scratch it here." As I looked to where she pointed, I saw that she was trying to scratch her derriere, but since she had on denim shorts, she couldn't get to the itch.

I proceeded to scratch her cheek and said, "Now please go to sleep." Before I could get out the door, she was crying, "Scratch your bottom." My response: "I did scratch your bottom." Her reply: "No, this part of your bottom." She wanted me to scratch the other side as well. I obliged because frankly all I could think about was that my raisin bran was getting soggy in the other room.

I sat down, picked up my spoon, had a bite of cereal halfway to my mouth and heard a door open over the monitor. I walked out and saw that the door to the study was open. I walked in to find Avari upset because her shoes had not been put up in her closet - perish the thought. I put the shoes up, tucked her back into bed and returned to my soggy cereal.

My beautiful daughter did sleep long enough for me to finish the ironing. She woke up asking for a snack, which she happily finished a few minutes ago. However, in the course of writing this post I have had to locate a lost purse, retrieve books for her to read on the potty, clean the potty, give her a cookie for going potty, and put on the aforementioned CD that she had requested earlier in the day.

So, I say again that parenting is not glamorous. However, when she looks at me and says, "Mama read you a book," and she snuggles up in my arms to read about The Lorax, The Cat in the Hat or Larry Boy's latest adventures, it is all worth it. The smile she gets on her face when I do different voices for each animal character in The Fly Went By, makes me long to do it all over again. The kiss and tight squeeze around my neck are worth so much more than money could ever buy. When I hear her sing "Amazing Grace" with me before bed at night and then she looks up at me with the sweetest grin and says, "You sing so beautiful" (referring to herself, of course), I know that I am the most blessed woman in the world.

Bring on the ironing, the itchy bottom, and all the hugs that go along with this gig. No matter how harried I may get, this is the best job in the world!

Artist In Training

I thought I would show you the results of our art session today. I know I have been way more personal than usual this week. Perhaps that is because my husband is not here, and I have a deep-seated need to share with someone. Or, maybe I felt like I could at least have a one-sided adult conversation since I am at home with a beagle and a 2 year-old for the week. Frankly, we just had so much fun that I wanted to share it even if no one wanted to see it!

Regardless of the reasons, here are photos of my budding artist's work.


This first one is all Avari. She had to use every colored pencil and every marker. Then we got into buttons, sequins, etc. Oh, and Avari cut out two of the flowers that we pasted on the page (with a little help). She really had fun.


Of course, this second picture was a joint effort. I wasn't really sure if she was going to take part at first. I drew the picture and started showing her how to glue the macaroni to it. She was more interested in eating the raw spaghetti noodles than gluing them down. Before it was all over, she was having a blast. We did all the gluing before nap time. Then we colored the picture (including the noodles) with markers later in the day. As a result, we have a great surprise for her daddy when he gets back from the mission trip to New Orleans.

So, what value is this to you? Well, if you know us, then I'm just sharing with friends. If you stumbled upon this post and you don't know us from Adam, then perhaps you found a fun project to do with your kids!

Blessings!

Out of the Mouths of Babes

I usually do not post more than once a day because I do not want to overwhelm people with my glorious prose. Actually, that is not true at all. Mostly, I just do not have the time nor the inclination to post multiple times each day. Today is the exception - lucky you, huh?!?

When the rain finally let up around noon today, I ran out to the store for some flour. I am supposed to be cooking dinner for a family in our congregation. However, I realized too late that I was running really low on flour. I tried to borrow some from a neighbor only to find out after I got soaked running to their house that they were offering whole wheat flour. That would normally be fine, but I did not think my friends would appreciate a "healthy" chicken pot pie dinner.

Anyway, back to the point - I took my daughter, jumped in the car and ran to the gas station thinking I would pay way too much for a small bag of flour, but it would at least be quick. Unfortunately, after unbuckling my daughter, convincing her to leave her favorite baby in the car, and lugging her into the store to keep her feet dry, I found they had no flour. I proceeded to return her to the car seat, buckle her back in, and return her baby to her. In the process, I made the statement aloud to my 2 1/2 year old, "I guess I could run all the way to Kroger to get the flour. At least I know they have some. But that would take so much longer. Maybe I should just try the gas station at the corner."

I'll tell you that what came out of my daughter's mouth next was sheer genius. She said, "No, Mama, don't go to Kroger. Go to Walgreens." She is a prodigy. I always suspected, but now, I'm sure it's true. I had not even considered going to Walgreens, which is much closer than Kroger, but also just as likely to have the flour I needed.

So, the moral of the story (at least the one I'm taking away from this) is Do Not Underestimate Your Children. They are so much smarter and tuned in than we give them credit for being. I'm seriously considering letting my daughter do my taxes next year. You never know, she may find a deduction I didn't know about!

Memory Lane - The Tropical Edition

As I sit here typing I can hear the rain pelting my windows and see my little oak tree out front weathering the winds of Edouard. It seems that here in Chambers county we are getting the worst of this storm. Even at that, so far, so good. I am really glad that we still have power, for the moment at least.

It is always a little strange to me that each time we get a tropical storm or a hurricane, as I sit listening to the rain and the wind, it reminds me of all the storms that have come before. Funny how that works, isn't it?

The first hurricane I remember was Alicia. She came in August 1983. I remember a few things about her. The biggest impact she had on me was ruining my 8th birthday party. I was devastated at the time. We went out in my dad's Chevrolet pick-up when the rain let up. The flood waters reached almost to the floorboard of the truck. We were living in Highlands at the time in a mobile home. We weathered Alicia with nothing more than the lifted corner at the top of my dad's tool shed/storage building. Oh, the other thing I remember about Alicia was that we used a lantern for light and listened to a radio all night for the weather. My dad told us a hundred times if he told us once not to get too close to the lantern or we'd get burned. My sister got close one too many times and burned her arm on it. Ah, Alicia, my first hurricane memory.

The next hurricane that impacted me remains nameless in my memory. The only thing I really remember about it was that it got me out of school for a day or so. I believe that one was in 1989 - my first year of high school.

The 90's are a blur for me as far as hurricanes go. I remember that Florida had a few bad ones, but I cannot recall any that hit Texas. Maybe that's because I spent the majority of the 90's in Dallas. You know, we didn't really concern ourselves as much with tropical weather as we did hailstorms. Those are much more prevalent.

In any case, my next memory of significant tropical weather was Tropical Storm Allison. She was significant indeed. In June 2001 she dropped tons of rain on this area. Just about the time we thought we were rid of her, she'd move into the Gulf of Mexico to pick up more water to dump on us. I was working in downtown Houston at the time. My husband came to pick me up from work on one of the worst days of the storm, and a police officer yelled at him for stopping in front of my building. He threatened to ticket my husband for picking up his drenched wife in the middle of a tropical storm. Funny, I would think there would be more important duties on a day like that, my mistake. Seriously, I don't harbor any bitterness; at least, I don't think I do.

Fast forward to 2005 - hurricane Rita. Now, keep in mind that Katrina had just ravaged the Louisiana coast a few weeks earlier. I was 6 1/2 months pregnant with my daughter, and because I was considered high risk I was forbidden to travel. I went in to see my doctor a few days prior to the storm hitting, and he begged me to stay close to Houston, so he could treat me should anything go awry. We packed up our stuff and went a few miles down the road to stay with my parents. Of course, the worst of the storm went to the East of us, but it was a little scary, nevertheless - more so when Rita was churning up the Gulf as one of the strongest storms in recorded history. As a side note, my parents never even lost power during Rita. We had some minor roof damage, which our insurance company covered.

Now, in the grand scheme of things, as Edouard now stands, he will probably be but a blip on the radar screen of my life. Oh, I'll probably remember him because my husband is 6 hours away, so it's my first official storm alone (well, the lone adult). Thankfully, he's mild as storms go.

So, why do I reminisce about these storms? I'll tell you. It's a gentle reminder to me of how awesome my Papa truly is. He's helped me to weather countless storms in my life - some of the tropical variety and others of a spiritual and emotional nature. In whatever storm I've found myself He's always been there. Please do not mistake what I am saying. I have not emerged from all of these conflicts unscathed. However, the scars that I bear are testimonies of His faithfulness in my life. And each one of them provides me with the experience to be able to touch someone else who is struggling with battles that I have already fought.

As I listen to my friend, Edouard, rail outside my window, I know beyond the shadow of a doubt that no matter what storms I may encounter in this life, I serve a God who is bigger. I may stumble and falter at times. I may lose sight of what He is trying to accomplish, but His love is always stalwart, never-failing, never-ending.

So, rage on storms of life. Do your worst to me. I say with David, "The Lord is my light and my salvation; Whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life; Of whom shall I be afraid?" (Psalm 27:1).

I Don't Drink Beer

OK, so this made me laugh this morning. I think part of it was that this is set to a Steven Curtis Chapman tune that my husband sang to me at our wedding. The other half is just the image he creates. This should at least bring a smile to your face, and who couldn't use an extra smile on a Monday . . . or any other day for that matter? Enjoy!



Oh, and if you like this and you didn't see the "Kid's Rock" video that he did (I posted it a while back), check it out.

A Helping Hand

Well, my husband is off to New Orleans - actually, St. Bernard parish - for the week. He, along with several others from our congregation, have gone to help do some rebuilding. They will be spending the week doing drywall, painting and I suppose, whatever else is needed.

Here's the sad part. He's been gone less than 3 hours, and I already miss him like crazy!! I know, I'm such a sap. Seriously, this is only the second time in our 10+ years of marriage that we have been apart. The first time was when he went to Mexico last year.

I missed him last year, but I didn't miss him like I already miss him now. Maybe I was too busy with my daughter since she was only 18 months old when he went to Mexico. Perhaps, I just have a terrible memory, so I am not recollecting accurately. Or, maybe, I simply love him more this year than I did last.

It's true, and I know you are probably rolling your eyes as you read this thinking - "Seriously? This is so sappy." Well, that's just where I am right now - Sapville. It may be hard to believe, but I sincerely do love my husband more today than I did when I married him, more than I loved him last year, even more than I loved him last month. Somehow, each experience we share brings us that much closer together and we fall that much deeper in love.

We've known each other since we were 13 years old. We dated from the time we were 16 until we graduated college. We got married 3 months after my college graduation, and we've never looked back. My husband and I are a team; we are a package deal. If you want one of us, you get us both. We rarely do anything separately - with the exception of my new penchant for scrapbooking with my friends occasionally. But other than that, we are pretty much inseparable, and we wouldn't have it any other way!

The crazy, awesome part about all of it is that there is a direct correlation between how much I love Papa and how much I love my husband. I mean, the more I surrender myself to my Father's care, the more I allow His love to permeate my being, the more I see my husband loving our Father, the more I realize how much I love them both. I am just head over heels in love with them both. It's really a nice circle to be in.

Well, I will cease and desist with all of the mushiness now. I hope that you find yourself loving those around you more with each passing day. If you don't, then ask Papa for a nice pair of Love-vision glasses, which will help you to see them through His eyes. After you get a glimpse, the love will follow close behind.

Blessings!