Wednesday, February 29, 2012

A List of Smiles

After several weeks of the "black dog on my back," I have decided to list some of the things that make me genuinely smile:

1.  Upon opening the kitchen cupboard, I find sparkling clean, hand-washed water glasses (instead of the cloudy, soapy dishwasher washed ones).

2.  Upon opening a second kitchen cupboard (not necessarily on the same day), I find the sugarbowl has been filled and the crusties cleaned off the adjoining spoon.

3.  A fresh snowfall, and the sunshine afterward.

4.  A friend stopping by.

5.  A friend stopping by with one or all of the following:
   - flowers
   - latte
   - pie/cheese cake (NOT CAKE)

6.  Watching my kids read.

7.  Picking up my dog from the groomers.

8.  Opening a new tub of margarine and getting the inner swirl first.

9.  Finding out my purse is big enough to fit an entire bag of Fudgeos inside.

10.  Eating those fudgeos.

11.  Tulips.

12.  Opening a new book.

13.  Rereading an excellent book.

14.  Listening to my children sing.

15.  Working with my hands.

16.  Jimmy Fallon's impersonations of Neil Young and Bob Dylan.

17.  Any episode of "Chuck," "The Big Bang Theory," and, I confess, anything with Colin Firth in it.

18.  Kittens.

19.  Good coffee.  Large double double at Timmy's.

20.  Making someone laugh.

And these are just a few.  I may have to remind myself of this list in the future, and possibly add to it now and again.  What are some of the things that make you smile?  Try and list three.  Or tell me how many are on your list.

Photo taken from http://pixtalpeep.blogspot.com/  Great site for smiles!

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

The Thief

I am invisible.
I creep quietly and no one sees me, my head hunkers down as
I sneak throughout the house.
I am the colour of darkness, awaiting my moment to strike.
I pause.  There is no sound.
I move slowly to prevent any evidence of my movements.

Suddenly,

I hear the master.  There is no time to waste.

My desire has overcome my obedience.

I charge forward.
I am exceptionally fast.

Her steps come closer.  

I jump, snatch the prize, and delve into it's deliciousness.
I have won!
I have -

"Mom!  The dog stole the last of the pizza again!"

"Bad dog!"

My powers have been stripped. 

I am clumsy, tripping over my tail.
I am embarrassed by the ticking of my feet, and the jingling of my tags as
I race to the mat.
I bow my head in guilt, and thump my tail for mercy.

And then give a big belch.

Satisfaction.

I am again invisible...



Sunday, February 19, 2012

Tougher'n Nails

This morning in church I was reminded of my later teen years, when I was "gung-ho" for Jesus.  The unabashed, blatant love for Christ that many church-going teenagers and young people can have.  In fact, my sister and I both had these gruesome, Good Friday-themed t-shirts with the saying "Jesus, tougher'n Nails" written on them.  They seriously grossed out my mother.  We have a picture of at least one of us donning it proudly.

After years of being raised in the United Church, dad let me venture out to other churches in search of young people and youth groups provided they were teaching about Jesus.  My mother, built of a mixture of worldly knowledge, girly knowledge, and incredible worry, sat me down and said, "You better know what information's coming at you, or you'll up in some cult like David Koresh."  Of course I rolled my eyes, but I never forgot it.

Over the years, I have met many wonderful caring people, in several different congregations.  I have also met several rather misguided, and perhaps scary, individuals who had "great" ideas in healing, and getting to know the Lord.  With my mother's words in my pocket, I managed to keep to the straight and narrow.  I surrounded myself with the Word, teachings of Christ, and the Apostle Paul, and books by Phillip Yancey, Kay Arthur and Max Lucado.

With years of real life chipping away at me, I confess that "gung-ho" attitude has been replaced with a more cautious and serious yet still sincere belief in Christ.  I have many more wounds on my armour than I did back then, but I still believe He is tougher'n nails.

So this morning when our pastor spoke of cults, their leaders, and misguided faith, I thought about the big "doomsday" billboards in the U.S. that proclaimed the end of the world.  Sure, they were wrong, and misguided, and a good laugh, but shouldn't we believe every day is going to be the end of the world?  Shouldn't we live our hours as if He is coming to meet us tomorrow morning?

Now, in hindsight, I do not mean spend all of your money, skip work, or don't have a shower.  I mean spiritually, folks, let get ourselves in gear!  How do we do that? I am probably not the best one to ask, but I know it starts with the little things: saying sorry to your kids for freaking out about something ridiculous; smiling at your neighbour whom you've never really enjoyed; or listening instead of talking.

Think about this: when you meet Christ, and He asks you, "What did you do yesterday?" what will be your answer?

Thursday, February 16, 2012

The Rescue (or The Break and Enter)


The internet was down in our little village today.  All satellite connections, telephone (landlines and cells), and interac were not working.  It was strange.  Business owners were standing outside with nothing to do, I bought a purchase with a handshake, (you can do that in a little town) and we actually had to walk to a neighbour’s house for a chat instead of via facebook.

So, midmorning, Little Miss and I went a few blocks over for tea at a friend’s house.  I walked, she ran back and forth.  We had planned it weeks ago, but were unable to double check with all communications down.  I explained to Little Miss that our friend may not be there, and that it will be nice just to go out for a stroll.  I had a note in my back pocket to leave in case we missed her.  Again, I couldn’t send an email. 

We were excited to see her van in the drive.  We rang the doorbell and peered through the side window, looking into the foyer.  The lights were off but we could see her infant car seat sitting there empty.

“She has to be there.” I said, “Maybe she’s in the bathroom.” (It’s happened before).  We rang the bell a couple more times, but no one came.  I looked again through the window and noticed a few more things.  Her shoes were there, as was a small pile of dirt that had obviously been swept up but not lifted into the trash.  I could see a light shining up from the basement.  Alarm bells went off in my mind.

You need to understand that I have a bit of a superhero complex.  (I know that teenagers have the same “complex” but mine is a bit different).  While theirs is the “I’m never going to get hurt” idea, mine is the “let’s save the day” idea.  I constantly go over in my mind different scenarios in which I would save someone’s life.  A lost elderly woman, a cat stuck in a tree, a car going down in the lake – you know, all of the normal things.  In fact, I have spent numerous Sunday mornings asking myself, “If our pastor were to clutch his heart and fall to the ground, how would I save him?” I’d look at who was in council that morning, where his wife was, whether my cell phone was on, and come up with an action plan.

So at the front door of my dear friend’s house, I decided there had to be something wrong.  A gas leak maybe, or perhaps she’d fallen.  I tried the doorknob and it was unlocked.  I poked my head in.  It didn’t smell like gas.  I called.  No answer.  Does she always leave her door open?  I keep calling, wandering to the stairs.  I tell Little Miss to stay at the front door.  As I look around, I see various lamps on, breakfast dishes out, and a vacuum cleaner that looked like it was about to start. 

Had the rapture happened, and I’d been left behind? 

I moved towards the bedrooms, still calling, wondering why I didn’t hear a baby crying.  Suddenly, through a partly open door, I see his little face lying on the bed.  He lifts his little face and gives me a big smile.  It was then that I see a person, covered up, lying beside him.  “Shit,” I think, “What am I going to do?”  Would a baby be that happy if he was lying beside a corpse?

And, in the few seconds it took for me to change my mind, and tiptoe back into the hall, the corpse opened her eyes, jerked her head up in my direction and gave a silent scream.  As my blood pressure dropped, and my heart skipped a beat, I realized that this is why we have internet and cell phones.  We do not live in the dark ages, we do not just “drop by” unannounced.  We facebook!  We email! We twitter! We allow ourselves the freedom to leave our front doors unlocked, and to fall asleep halfway through housecleaning.

Thankfully, my friend sits up and starts to laugh.  "Would you like some tea?" she asks.

Just then, Little Miss (who was supposed to waiting at the front door) wanders into the bedroom.  “Hey, look mom, they have a Justin Beiber doll!” And his latest tune, playing from his belly button, helps calm the atmosphere.

I'm officially hanging up my cape.

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

A Discovery

My little man came home from his grade two class with his first Math puzzle.  You know the one where each answer matches up to a letter, and once complete, it spells something?  It usually takes him a couple of nights to finish a homework page, so seeing as tonight was the second night, he'd gotten pretty far.  Suddenly he looks up at me, his eyes open wide, and yells really loud, "THIS SPELLS SOMETHING!!" I tried to hide my laughter as he was just SO THRILLED with his discovery...oh, the sweet taste of naiveté.

When was the last time as adults that we discovered something simple that knocked our socks off?  Pinterest?  A new latte flavour?  The perfect novel?  Please, let's share.


Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Excerpts from Valentine's Day 2012

It's Valentine's Day! Little Miss just asked me, after a full day at school handing out paper valentines and receiving a bag of goodies, what it was all about.

"Well, it's a day to show those people you love how much you love them.  I usually make daddy a nice supper (there was a roast in the slow cooker), daddy always buys me a gift (already handed over), and you hand out paper valentines to your friends!"

"And we give you stuff?" she says hopping off her chair.

"Well, I think maybe you've made something in class for me?"

"Nope, I don't think so," as she's leaving the room.

"Maybe you lost it?" But she was gone...off onto another topic, another mission.

Hmmm.

*****

How did I get my Valentine's gift early this year?  Well, let me tell you.  Getting my kids ready for school this morning, I could not find the one decorated cookie I had set aside for my little man's teacher.  Mr. had left for work hours before, and I suddenly had this vision of him enjoying the cookie while watching a late night DVD.  I was fuming!  I left a VERY deep breathing, growly message on his voicemail demanding to know what had happened, and hung up sharply.

The kids quickly raced to do something useful as I ranted and paced throughout the house thinking of ways to make him pay, when the phone rang.

"I'll be there in half an hour." he says. (That's how far a drive it is from work.)

"There's nothing you can do about it now!!" I shout, thinking, what're you going to do, bake more?

"I have it here with me." He explains, and I suddenly breath.  So he took liberties but did not totally destroy my gift.  He saved himself a lot of pain, and I think he was glad for the half-hour he had for me to calm down.

I turn to my son and said, "Nobody wrecks mommy's surprises."

Within the half-hour, Mr. swoops in, beaming his best smile, hands over the merchandise and pulls out my Valentine's gift.  I give a little growl, but he has saved himself.

*****

As I drop off my son at his school, I tuck the little wrapped cookie into the front pocket of his winter coat.  "Now don't go and break this after all we've gone through to get it."  He heads to the door, watching his pocket the whole time, holding his hands gently around it.  Protecting it.  Holy crap, he is so sweet.

Or so afraid.

My anger has dissipated.  I sigh.  I seriously need to relax.  It's Valentine's day, for pete's sake, a day for love.

Maybe I'll look again in Little Miss's backpack for a craft for Mommy...


Sunday, February 12, 2012

The Five Love Languages

As Valentine's Day is approaching, I am hearing more and more about the book The Five Love Languages, by Dr. Gary Chapman.  Mr. Man and I actually learned about these love languages before we got married a decade (gasp) ago in our premarital course.

These are the five "languages":
1.  Affirmation
2.  Quality Time
3.  Receiving Gifts
4.  Acts of Service
5.  Physical Touch

It ends up that Mr.'s love language is 'receiving gifts' (I don't think he'd mind me telling you that).  A certain CD was the perfect example.  I have several love languages, to make his job a lot harder, but 'quality time' is a big one.

One particular day on our trip to NYC is the perfect example of how Mr. Man and I relate to each other:

After racing around the streets of New York City in taxis and on foot, we stop for a bite to eat on a tiny park bench under a tiny tree.  As it happens, close by is the retail store for NBC studios.  We walk over and open the doors to a room filled with The Office paraphernalia.  The sound of angels rings out as Mr.'s eyes scan the room.  "Happy Birthday," I say, with my arms open to the racks of clothes.  "Take your pick." It was the easiest birthday purchase I ever made for him.  At present, he wears his Dunder Mifflin t-shirt at least once a week.  Receiving Gifts.

Before we had left home, Mr. had said as long as we went to the Statue of Liberty I could take him anywhere.  So earlier on the same day as the NBC store visit, I took him into the The Metropolitan Museum of Art.  It was a huge place; the exhibit I wanted to see was closed; we got lost and wasted hours, but that's another story.  The point is, he hung out with me in unfamiliar territory. Quality Time.

Ironically, I heard on the radio just this week of a husband in a similar circumstance.  He took his wife to an art gallery.  His words were similar to this: "My wife enjoyed looking at the art, and I enjoyed looking at my wife."  So sweet.

Mr. Man's words in regards to our art experience?  "I got to see naked statues."


Saturday, February 11, 2012

The Goal, the Plan and the Lesson

The Goal:
I made a deal with a friend last week to be accountability partners in that which defeats us.  The task was to accomplish a certain disliked activity for ten minutes each day.  For me, it was exercise.  For 21 days.  Apparently, it takes 21 days to start a habit.

The Plan:
Every morning she calls my house, and in her five foot three frame bellows out her best drill sergeant voice, "GET YOUR BUTT IN GEAR!"  And every evening I give her a call and sweetly ask if she has accomplished her ten minute goal.

It's been six days.

Day One:
I wake every two hours thinking it is my wake up call and I might miss it.  I finally get the real call and grumble my way through my first workout.  Grumble, grumble.

Day Two:
I do a light workout, and eat two licks of chocolate ganache.  I'll do better tomorrow.

Day Three:
I start my exercise routine early, and call my friend before she even has a chance to call me.  Ha, HA! I am amazing! Watch me go! I do an extra 30 minutes of pilates later on.

Day Four:
I am exhausted from Day Three.  I sleep in.  Mr. wakes me and says there's someone on the phone.  Oh, man!  I listen and hear, "GET YOUR BUTT IN GEAR, GIRL!!" I work out on the trampoline, like never before.  As it happens, Mr. has hurt his foot and cannot go running in the morning.  I roll my eyes at him.  Baby.

Day Five:
I wake up in agony, and find it hard to move.  My lower back has seized up so I take the day off from exercise.  I can't lift anything, I can't bend over the oven, and I certainly can't get in the van to drive the kids to school.  A neighbour takes my son to school.  Another friend takes Little Miss for the day.  The next day is my big cake sale and I am as stiff as a board!

Day Six:
At 2am, I am awoken by a 'charlie horse' in each butt cheek that even Mr. Man doesn't want to rub better.  I'm screaming in agony.  Memories flash before my eyes of squats, lunges, and trampoline jumps, and suddenly I feel so stupid.  Four days of exercise and I have killed my body.  I am old!  In the morning I can't even put my own underwear on.  I can't walk to the bathroom.  I can't even shuffle.  I am gasping, groaning, crying out in pain.  I look over and stare at Mr. "I sleep through anything" Man until he opens his eyes and says, "What?"

I am reminded of the time, a few years ago when I decided to go for a "run." I jogged a kilometre or two, collapsed on my parents' front lawn and crawled into the fetal position, screaming, because my core muscles had all seized up.  My mother came running out and kicked me because I had been so foolish.  It was all out of love.  I'm sure of it.

Well, today, several painkillers and a hot shower later, I determinably make it down the stairs and prepare for a successful sale. Which it was.  Mr. Man (whose foot is feeling better) and Mr. Advil did all of the heavy lifting.

The Lesson:
I'm not sure.  Maybe after the 21 days I'll let you know...

Saturday, February 4, 2012

"Love Mr."

I gave a little snort today after setting up these gift mugs at a local book store.  The store supplied the mugs, and I supplied the cookies.  I didn't think anything funny about it until I looked at this photo.

As much as I "love" my "Mr." Man, I am not going to buy him my own product for Valentine's Day.

It also looks very much like a command: "Love Mr."

Perhaps a message from God?

*****

My apologies to newcomers who may not catch the joke...feel free to get caught up starting here.

Thursday, February 2, 2012

Cookie Puzzles

Last night was the first night a long while that I woke up unable to sleep because of work.  In my dreams I was trying very hard to fit heart cookies of assorted sizes perfectly into a box.  They weren't shift around, and if the box tilted, they were not to disentangle themselves and break.  No matter how I tried I could not fit them in.  There was still too much space in the box.

Sometimes when my mind goes like this, nothing can stop it but to go down to the shop and solve the problem in reality.  As dreams go, it stemmed from reality:  the boxes had arrived the previous day, in the wrong size, and the cookies I had already painstakingly baked.

In church on Sunday, I was volunteering in the age 3-4 room where puzzles are big deal.  They don't like it when you put the puzzle together for them so you watch their precious little hands move pieces around and around until they fit just right.  Some give up, but some work at it, even if it takes awhile.  And I sit beside them, ready to help.

Nicely, there is a set pattern for each cardboard puzzle; a picture to follow and only one way to complete it.  Unfortunately, this makes it very disappointing when, after all of your work, a piece is missing.  At least with cookies, there are different sizes to work with - at least in my batch.

I realized while laying their looking at all the possible mathematical arrangements of cookies on my bedroom ceiling, that there are several things in life that involve putting pieces together to fit.  And I do not mean linen closets.  People tend to fill in those missing places in our puzzles, sometimes surprisingly.

In running a business, I know where I am gifted and where I am terrible.  An employee or two, may be gifted at those places in which you are lacking.  Voila! Puzzle pieces put together.

Marriage is a huge example.  Two people from different ways of life, come together, and with hard work, they make it fit.  When it's working, it feels like a well-oiled machine.  When one is down, the other is up (and can pick their partner up!)  When one is tired of the kids (and this never happens to me), the other can step in.  And when it comes to extended families, sometimes it's the grandmother who steps in take up the extra piece, or an aunt or a really great babysitter (or wow! even a housecleaner)!

But I know the biggest piece of the puzzle in everything is our Heavenly Father who is watching over us and divinely guiding us to the right people for the right needs.  He wisely designed us with unique gifts and talents, whether to help run a business, sit in Sunday School, or be a part of a family.

And since it is He who made my never-sleeping brain, I put it to you:  Who is the biggest cookie in your box?

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