Chocolate versus Strawberry

I am always surprised when I hear someone say that they never wanted a sister -- or that a brother was as good as a sister. I suppose that some have had bad experiences with a sister and that is almost tragic. To borrow the words of my sister. "Sisters are like chocolate. Brothers are like strawberries." It's easy for someone to say that they like strawberries and don't miss chocolate, or even feel the desire to eat some, if they have never tasted it. But once you have tasted chocolate, it draws you in, it entices you. Perhaps chocolate covered strawberries are the best.

Dentist Jargon

Today in the mail I got a reminder postcard for my dental appointment. This is the first in a three step treatment program. I have never had dental work done on my teeth before and I'm starting to get a little nervous. The thing I am wondering is do dentists know they have an unpleasant (painful) reputation to uphold? Why do dentists have to use words like "scaling" and "planing". Do they like to scare patients? Wouldn't it be a lot less intimidating to say "remove tarter build up" or "deep clean", instead of "plane and scrape your teeth with a chisel". (I admit, I did add the chisel part.) At my initial check up they told me they would numb the gums so that it would be "bearable". Maybe I should just stay home and loose all my teeth before I'm fifty.

Worse than Death

I didn't want my brother to die. I still don't. I look at the big eyes of his small children as they tell me a story, and I cannot understand. I start feeling like something is being squeezed inside, becoming tighter and tighter. Next month his oldest son turns 7. My oldest son turns 7 next month too, and I can't imagine telling him that he will never see his dad in this life again. He adores his dad. Dad is the smartest. Dad is the strongest. Dad is the cutest. (I've brain-washed them a little.) One night this week, my husband worked until 8pm. I felt like the day dragged on and on. There was no one coming home signaling the end of the work day and time for the family to be together and play. No adult lingering conversation around the dinner table. It's sad to think that every day for my sister-in-law is like that day. It is hard to stay motivated. I would not want that for anyone.
Recently, though, I saw something much worse. A relative of my husband also had heart surgery. Things went badly and the doctors thought he wouldn't make it. I kept checking the updates on him and praying that God would spare his life. This man hung between life and Hell. Through Jesus our pain is temporary. Without Him death is tragic.
The man pulled through. God gave him another chance, but will he take it?

Brain-washing

My husband says that mothers are the reason that grown men cannot figure women out. From childhood they are led to believe things that are not true about women. For example, a little boy runs up to his mother to give her a beautiful yellow flower. (Okay, it's really a weed.) But does she tell him it's a weed? No, she says thank you and acts excited. Not only is it a weed, but she is also carrying a baby and has no free hand to conveniently hold anything without her baby eating it. On top of that she is allergic to pollen. Now the little boy runs away steeped in deception. Perhaps. But I prefer to think the mother is appreciating his genuine thoughtfulness. We do try to teach our boys, as hard as it is for them to believe, that Mom really doesn't want a truck book, but sometimes it really is the thought that counts. Maybe we should treat our husbands more like little boys.

Favorite Quote of the Day

"It's amazing how one person can have such an impact and leave such a gaping, bloody hole if they are gone -- you're that person to me. " -- EAN

I think of all the silly, embarrassing things that I have said to people, and comfort myself that they probably don't even remember half of them. Then I think, they probably remember the half that I don't remember.

A Call to Moms

Perhaps you have felt as I have that you must defend your existence if you are "just a mom". That somehow you are inferior or less interesting than the woman that has a job outside of the home. After all, a twelve year old girl can babysit. But babysitting is not parenting.
Being a mother is a high test of Spirit-filled living! It takes energy, commitment, discipline, discernment. It is the practical working out of Galatians 5:24 -- Those who are Christ's have crucified the flesh with it's passions and desires. Do you desire sleep? Do you desire peace? Quiet? Some time of your own? Do you desire to be appreciated? To see results? Mothering means daily laying down those desires as you walk worthy of your calling. Every day brings new opportunities to die to ourselves, to say no to our selfishness and instead choose to embrace love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faith, gentleness and self-control. Wow! Impossible without God. Our weakness and frailty are overwhelming, but his strength is made perfect in weakness.
So many times I am completely confused -- at a loss for direction. But God says, if any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask God, who gives generously to all who ask. How I need that wisdom. I am so inadequate for this task, but we must persevere. Someday we may look back on our lives and say with Paul, "I have fought the good fight. I have finished the race. I have kept the faith." Can you imagine hearing God say, "Well done, my good and faithful servant." Of course at that point we will fall on our knees knowing the foolishness of thinking we had achieved anything -- knowing that it is only by His power and faithfulness that we can be faithful.
We are walking in the footsteps of Jesus. Imitating Him as we walk in love, giving ourselves up for others -- a fragrant offering and pleasing sacrifice to God. We may never see all the harvest from the seeds we have sown, but out of faith continue to nurture and train your children in the Lord.

House Memories

I wonder if my husband died if I would ever do anything fun again. I do not understand God. Since my sister-in-law left to go back to Pennsylvania, I have been missing my brother a lot more. Reminders and pain are everywhere. I almost wrote WV earlier instead of PA. That's where she was suppose to be living. That was the craziest house my brother bought. I remember when he first e-mailed us pictures. We kept clicking through, with amused disbelief, wondering -- what has he gotten himself into now? He was so excited about that house. They tore out so many walls and found more and more things that needed to be fixed. (Which tends to happen with remodeling projects)
When I visited last, I think they only had 2 rooms with paint. They had managed to put drywall in most of the house -- even over half the windows in the porch to make a closet. He had made shelves in the drywall in the kitchen walls just large enough to hold the spices. There were only two inside doors in the whole house -- one to the bathroom and one to the porch (now part closet and part office).
They had wood heat on the lower level and he had attached the stove pipe to the heat registers in the upper level to direct the heat up. Unfortunately the register covers were plastic, so they melted.
He salvaged a free industrial sized fan from one of his employers. He first put it in the window, but he said it kept sucking the children to the window, so he moved it to the attic. He had cooked a turkey earlier and it had spilled and burned in the oven. He said if the oven started to smoke while he was gone and I was watching the kids, just plug in the fan. It's pretty noisy, but it works. Some might think cleaning the oven would be another solution. Now that I think about it, my sister-in-law asked me to help her clean the oven after my brother died and she was staying with my mom.
I noticed the back door of the house leading into the room with the freezer had a sign on it that read "No food or drink allowed". It looked like an industrial door. He probably got it free somewhere.
He had the dishwasher facing into the dining room, a little hard for rinsing because the sink was in the kitchen. He was so proud of that idea. You could just sit at the table and load the dishwasher.
The fridge was probably the nicest part of the house. It looked new and was stainless steel. It was so hard emptying the fridge after he died. I kept thinking about the things he liked to eat, and picturing him with his snacks.
The closet and office was hard too. He used oatmeal containers to hold his CDs. It was the perfect size. I put some of his tattered work clothes on the garbage pile and I felt like I was throwing my brother out. I kept going back to the pile and seeing him laying there.
How does a wife deal with this kind of pain? I am ready for this game to be over and I want him to come back. I know we will be together for eternity, but waiting 60 years just seems way too long. I think of his young wife climbing into a single bed at night. How can she go on? I look at his children and feel squeezing, pressure inside, pushing against a dam, about to break. Who would have thought that his son would have to face his 7th birthday without his dad? I do not understand. I cannot, I never will. Can I trust?