Out With the Old

I’ll admit that I’m frugal. Some might say cheap. For whatever reason, in spite of my age, I have not become a part of the throwaway generation—those who replace things just for the sake of replacing them, not because they have outlived their usefulness. But even penny-pinchers like me have to break down and spend money on occasion.

Last week, in what arguably could be one of the coldest, messiest weeks ever in Texas, my flannel sheets died. They wore out. Split down the middle. And I mourned. It wasn’t just the thought that I’d have to go out and spend money on a new set of flannel sheets. These beautiful sheets adorned with bouquets of roses (very Victorian!) were given to us one Christmas by my husband’s grandmother. We’ve had them for over 20 years. Granted, we don’t use them all winter here. Most winters it’s two or three weeks, max. But when we’ve needed them, I’ve loved them. And now I must replace them.

We’ll muddle through, find an acceptable substitute for a decent price (even in replacing things my frugality reigns supreme!), but I’ll hate it. It will take years for those new sheets to feel like mine. And I guess that’s the crux of my frugality in terms of replacing things—a sentimental attachment, a sense of belonging. Unfortunately for both my sentiment and my pocketbook, we have many, many everyday items that are reaching the end of their very long lives. I have a feeling I’d better get used to some change.

Besides antiques, do you have anything you use on a regular basis that is over twenty years old? (Like my blender and my pots and pans, both received as wedding gifts almost 24 years ago?) Will you mourn at its end or rejoice? What kinds of items do you hold on to until they die?

A Sunday Psalm

Sing to the Lord a new song,
for He has done marvelous things;
His right hand and His holy arm have worked salvation for Him.
The Lord has made His salvation known and revealed
His righteousness to the nations.
He has remembered His love and His faithfulness
to the house of Israel;
all the ends of the earth have seen the salvation of our God.
     --Psalm 98:1-3

Winter Weather and the Past

Every time we have unusual winter happenings, my mind drifts back to the Ingalls family and The Long Winter. Blizzards that shut down the trains. Burning hay when the coal ran out. Grinding wheat in the coffee grinder to make small loaves of bread. Going to bed early and getting up late because they’re wasn’t much else to do. It always makes me thankful I live now, not then.

But the weather incident of the past few days has taken my thoughts in different historical directions. Before the days of TV—or radio--in the days before meteorologists made their findings known to us, how did Texas people cope with such an unusual onslaught? Think about our most recent scenario.

Sunday, January 30. Almost 80 degrees. Spring weather. Not terribly unusual, but definitely welcome. But a hundred years ago, no one warning of a coming cold—with ice and snow. No one encouraging them to stock up the pantry and turn up the heater.

Monday, January 31. More normal temperatures of 50s-60s. Back to “winter” for Texas. But our ancestors went through their day without the warnings of coming sleet, freezing rain, plummeting temperatures.

In the middle of the night, rain and thunder. In the days before media, I’d imagine those who woke to the thud of rain turned over with the thought of cooler temperatures on the way. But can you imagine their surprise at the tink of sleet against glass? The white covering the ground as day dawned with icy temperatures and biting wind.

What if all the canned goods were still in the cellar? What if your neighbors had gone visiting and asked you to milk their cow—at their farm? And they couldn’t get back for several days? And you had no telephone to call and find out their plans? And what if you were low on firewood or coal because you had no warning? A trip to the outhouse would be fun, wouldn’t it? Or dealing with chamber pots if you chose not to?

Yes, those are the things I thought of as my kids stayed home from school day after day, as my husband built a fire that I was thankful didn’t comprise my only source of heat. As we come out on the other end of this event and get back to our “regular” lives, I reflect on those that came before. But while I love to venture to that past in my reading and my writing, I’m very, very glad I live in the now!

What kinds of events make you wonder about life in the past? How far back does your imagination usually take you? Do you think about things you’ve read in regard to those events or do you wonder about the things you never read about?

150 Quick Questions to Get Your Kids Talking by Mary DeMuth

My friend Mary DeMuth is not only a very talented writer, she is also an awesome cook and facilitator of conversations. She has used these strengths to create a family dinner table that is much more than just a meal. It is a deepening of relationships. And now some of her methods have been captured into a helpful new book: 150 Quick Questions to Get Your Kids Talking.

This a small book, in length and in stature, which makes it perfect for the family who wants to keep it near the dinner table and use a question or two per mealtime, as the DeMuth family does. Or it’s just the right size to tuck in a glove compartment or other nook of a car if you are a family often on the go to your kids activities, such as we always were. But no matter when, no matter where, these questions will help your family get talking. And when talking—and listening—commences, families grow closer. They understand each other better.

I highly recommend this book for a jumping off place in deepening your relationship with your children.

Lady in the Mist by Laurie Alice Eakes

I’m generally a cross-genre reader, picking up everything from mystery to historical to romance to . . .  you name it. Pretty much everything except horror and erotica. And while I like each of these in their separateness, it’s even better when they all collide in one book.

Lady in the Mist by Laurie Alice Eakes is that kind of book. Set in 1809 on the coast of Virginia, it blends meticulous historical detail with mystery, suspense, political intrigue and romance. Tabitha is a midwife who not only wants a family of her own, she wants to stop the English from impressing the men of her town into their navy. Enter an Englishman turned indentured servant and the fun begins.

I loved learning about history from this book—not only the time period of some of the political issues, but about the role of midwives, a subject on which Laurie Alice has done extensive research. But she does so much more than convey history. She creates a book that is hard to put down. Not only are the characters and their stories completely engaging, the quality of the writing makes them even more so. Laurie Alice is truly a master of the craft, besides being a lovely person to know.

Lady in the Mist is the first book in Laurie Alice’s series The Midwives. I’m already excited to see what she’s come up with for the next one!

Disclaimer: I received this book free from the publisher.

A Sunday Psalm

I have seen You in the sanctuary and beheld Your power and Your glory.
Because your love is better than life, my lips will glorify You.
I will praise You as long as I live, and in Your name I will lift up my hands.
My soul will be satisfied as with the richest of foods;
with singing lips my mouth will praise You.
       --Psalm 63:2-5

How Readers Read

Readers have different methods, just like writers do. They choose their books differently. They read their books differently. As a reader, I used to be a die-hard one-at-a-time reader. I simply could not start reading one book if I was in the middle of another. It just didn’t happen. As I got older and had children, I had to learn to multitask. Eventually that spilled over to my reading, too. I would have two or three books going—one in my purse, one on my nightstand, one in the living room. I could put down one and pick up another without batting an eye. Usually they were wildly different books, too. A piece of classic literature, a more recently published novel and maybe, just maybe a non-fiction book sprinkled in.

But in the nine months since I’ve signed my book contract, my reading time has constricted. And in that shrinking, I find I can’t divide my attention between multiple books. I’m back to being a one-at-a-time reader. (The only exception to this is reading on the fly from the kindle app on my phone!)

How about you? Do you keep multiple books going at one time or do you finish one and start another? Do you read all in the same genre or, like me, do you have to have to intersperse contemporary and historical and mystery and classics (and, okay, non-fiction if you must!)?

Head in the Clouds by Karen Witemeyer

I’ll admit that I often go into a new book with a bit of fear and trepidation if I have any kind of relationship with the author. I mean, what will I do if I don’t like it?

From the opening pages of Head in the Clouds by Karen Witemeyer, I knew that wouldn’t be a problem! Her story of a Texas rancher’s daughter who finds herself as a governess on the Texas sheep ranch of an English nobleman completely captivated me. It didn’t hurt that besides an English character or two Karen also sprinkled in references to some of my favorite classic English literature titles. And a great message of faith and following God’s plan for your life. Top it off with a heavy dose of romance and this was one of those books that I hated to see end.

I’m so glad Karen has more books waiting in the wings. And I’m even more excited to meet her face to face in a just a few weeks!

Studying the Master

When I first heard about Beth Moore’s study of Esther a while ago, I wanted to do it. Yet every time it came up, it wouldn’t work in my schedule. The time wasn’t right. But when a friend of mine, a gifted Bible teacher, said she was hosting this study in her home this semester, on a day I generally have free, I jumped at the chance to attend. When we went to our first session, my friend asked us all to tell why we chose to study Esther.

For me, that was an easy question. I’m drawn to the “stories” in the Bible. I learn best from them. So I love the Old Testament and the gospels, returning to them again and again, though I’ve come to love every part of God’s Word over the years. In Esther we are given a more drawn out story than most. And with a woman as its central character. I love that. I know that the study of this book over the course of several weeks will reveal so much about God, which of course tends to reveal so much about me and the areas where I fall short.

So I’m excited as I embark on a study of Esther. I know it will challenge me as a person of faith, but I also feel it will challenge me as a writer, to see how a story reveals the character of God even when He is not overtly mentioned. Because while I ultimately want the story of my life to be one that puts God on display, I also want to show Him through the stories I write. And what better way than to study the Ultimate Writer of Truth.

A Sunday Psalm

When I said, "My foot is slipping,"
Your love, O Lord, supported me.
When anxiety was great within me,
Your consolation brought joy to my soul.
     --Psalm 94:18-19

A Brand New Journal

I love the day I open a brand new journal, its lined pages pristine. It always reminds me of Anne Shirley saying “Every day is fresh with no mistakes in it.” And yet I know the pages before me will be filled with mistakes. Not just words crossed out and misspellings, but bigger things. Like sin. And struggle. It can be a depressing thought instead of a jubilant one. So I always recall the comfort of Lamentations:

Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness.

How do I know this holds true? Because when I open I new journal (which ends up being every year or so) I take a few moments to pull down all the old ones out of the top of my closet. Scattered remembrances of the last twenty-five years of my life. I flip through the pages. Sometimes I read the journals all the way through. Sometimes I read a few pages here and there. But one page or one hundred doesn’t change the fact that those journals—once filled with blank pages, now filled with words from my pen—are tangible evidence of that very promise of God’s new mercies and His faithfulness. I see from where He has brought me and I anticipate where He will take me through the pages yet unwritten.

My newest journal waits just a few last pages transcribed into the old one. And then I will look back—and look forward. And I’ll begin again.

Do you journal? Do you write every day or as the mood strikes?

PInch Me!

All of a sudden it feels really real!

Of Fuzzy Robes and Fireplaces

I love winter. I really do. But as I’ve grown older I’ve discovered that I love it most when I can spend it as I wish—in a fuzzy robe in front of a blazing fire. That hasn’t happened much this winter. I’ve had to leave the house on freezing temperature days much more often than I would like!

Still, there are Saturdays and Sundays, most of which don’t require me to go anywhere in the early mornings. My husband makes a fire. I hang out in a nearby chair wearing my fuzzy robe. I drink coffee and get a few things done at my computer or read a book, but then that’s not really the point. The point is the fuzzy robe and the warm fireplace, and the cozy feeling that accompanies them. I guess if I indulged that feeling every day of the winter it wouldn’t be as satisfying as it is when I only get it on occasion. But those fuzzy robe and fireplace days are really the part of winter I most enjoy.

What is your favorite season? What type of day during that season makes it most enjoyable for you?

A Sunday Psalm

The Lord is gracious and righteous;
our God is full of compassion.
The Lord protects the simplehearted;
when I was in great need, He saved me.
Be at rest, O my soul, for the Lord has been good to you.
        --Psalm 116:5-7

Reading List 2011

When my friend Carla mentioned that she’s looking forward to reading my book this year, it struck me how many friends I have with books releasing in 2011. Here’s just a partial list. I know there are more, but this is off the top of my head!

The Muir House by Mary DeMuth

Broken Wings by Carla Stewart

A Force of Habit by Alice Loweecey

Secrets of the Heart by Jillian Kent

Lady in the Mist by Laurie Alice Eakes

The Lady of Bolton Hill by Elizabeth Camden

Springtime of the Spirit by Maureen Lang 

Journey to Riverbend by Henry McLaughlin

Patti Lacy has one due out in fall, but I don’t know the title. And I believe Gina Holmes' second book comes out this year, too.

And all of those authors are just the ones I consider friends! That doesn’t count other authors I simply admire or might have met once. Good grief! I think I’ll definitely have to schedule more reading time.

Is there a specific title or author you are looking forward to reading this year?

What a Week!

Wow. What a week. After Christmas, we took a great trip to Colorado with our kids, arriving home the night of the 2^nd. I imagined it would take me all of Monday to get things sorted out, but then I would be back on my regular schedule.

Boy was I wrong!

How busy was it? Well, I posted to my blog once last week, on Tuesday—or so I thought. It didn’t post, but I didn’t realize it until Friday night! Laundry, unpacking, taking down Christmas, cleaning house, grocery shopping, answering emails, dealing with various details of life. Four basketball games, two nights of dinner guests, a few stolen minutes of revisions on my manuscript, a whole family gathering. It doesn’t sound like much when written out that way, but those things consumed all my waking hours.

This kind of week used to throw me into a tizzy, complete with emotional meltdowns. It isn’t easy for me to walk an unmarked path. It’s stressful—and scary. And though I’m better at it than I used to be, I long for the security of routine.

But the Lord never really promised us security—except in Him. He is the only thing that doesn’t change. And while none of the events in my week were earth shattering or life changing, I still needed to camp on the rock of God’s immutable nature.

So how do you cope when your plans are derailed in favor of things that absolutely must be done or dealt with? Are you flexible enough to set aside your agenda and go with the flow? Do you succumb to the moment but stress over all that is left undone? Is there a prayer or a verse that helps you make it through? I’d love to know!

A White Christmas

Two months ago we planned our family "Christmas” celebration for January 9. All of my siblings and their families would be in town—even my sister and her family on furlough from the mission field. We hadn’t all been under one roof for over two years. And my uncle was in town as well. We hadn't seen him for almost 5 years!

The kids were excited to exchange presents with their cousins, each having drawn a name to buy for in early December. We all looked forward to the food and the fellowship and yes, even the noise of 13 kids and all the adults trying to talk at one time. But in all our preparations we never imagined a white "Christmas." But that’s what we got. The cold rain we woke up to turned to snow just about the time we were all headed to Mom and Dad’s house. It was beautiful to watch, fun for the kids to play in, and generally added to the festive mood of the gathering. Quite an unexpected joy!

Have you had an unexpected take-your-breath-away moment catch you by surprise lately? I’d love to hear about it!

A Sunday Psalm

For who in the skies above can compare with the Lord?
Who is like the Lord among the heavenly beings?
In the council of the holy ones God is greatly feared,
He is more awesome than all who surround Him,
O Lord God Almighty, who is like you?
You are mighty, O Lord, and Your faithfulness surrounds You.
               --Psalm 89:6-8

Looking Ahead

I kind of tried to ignore the turn of the calendar this year. That’s really not like me. I usually revel in the newness of January, the clean slate of a new year. But the thought of 2011 really threw me for a loop.

It’s not that I’m not excited about this coming year. There are some really great things happening. But those great things have some scary edges on them, too. Want some examples?

In 2011:

• My son—my oldest boy, my middle child—will graduate from high school. While this is a big yippee in our lives, the thought of him going off to college is bittersweet. He is the child that instinctively knows me. The one that senses when I need help and steps in. The calm one. The steady one. The one that kind of holds us all together. The thought of our home without him on a day-to-day basis is a bit scary.
• My first novel will be published. A huge praise and an exciting time, but also a terrifying thought. Besides bracing myself for bad (or tepid) reviews and sparsely attended booksignings, I must plan a book launch party—and every party I’ve ever planned has flopped! Seeing my name on a book cover is a dream come true, but the reality is that the new road of published author is definitely a walk of faith up a steep mountain.
• I have several trips on my calendar: a writing retreat, a research trip, the ACFW conference, and possibly another one. I’m thrilled at the thought of seeing old friends and making new ones, and the travel itself doesn’t make me as nervous as it used to, but I do worry about how being gone slices into my productivity, both in writing and in my home duties.

Those are my major things at the moment, on top of the normal tug of war between the feelings of anticipation and trepidation when considering what the days in a new year will bring.

What about you? Are there things you see coming in 2011 that incite both excitement and fear in you? Are you leaning more to one side than the other? Please share!

Merry Christmas!

 

O Come Let Us Adore Him!

For unto you is born this day in the city of David, a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. 

--Luke 2:11 

The Attitude of Christmas

I’ve been banging my head against a brick wall, waiting for a breakthrough. Not literally, of course. But every minute of work on my current novel has felt this way. I wanted to get it done. Fast. Early. I wanted it to be at least good—though fabulous would have been better. In the meantime, I’ve been reading through Psalms and contemplating Christmas. And then it all came together.

Not my story, though that would have been nice. No, what came clearly into focus was that my focus had shifted. It had moved from being grateful to the Lord for letting me do what I love to do—write fiction that illustrates His truths—into a desire to be noticed, to be lauded, both for the story and for how quickly I turned it out. Not an attitude that fares well when put up against Mary’s song of praise at being told of her coming pregnancy or the angels lauding the birth of the Savior of men or shepherds leaving their flocks to come worship or kings who gave of their time and their wealth to bless the King of Kings. And when combined with the spotlight of David’s praise of his God even in the midst of dire circumstances, the darkness in my heart became evident. 

I guess I’m discovering yet again that this writing journey is about so much more than accomplishing the writing. It’s about recognizing my characters flaws, my weaknesses, and falling on His grace and strength. It’s about growing my faith and conquering my pride. But even with all of that, it really isn’t about me at all. It’s about God using His work in me to declare His own glory and power and strength. My purpose is simply to praise Him through my life and my words, even if the crafting of both of those things takes longer than I wish it would. And isn’t that the attitude of Christmas—our response of praise to God’s display of Himself all around us?

May your Christmas season be filled with the joy that comes from praising our God.

A Sunday Psalm

The Lord has made His salvation known and revealed His righteousness to the nations.
He has remembered His love and His faithfulness to the house of Israel;
all the ends of the earth have seen the salvation of our God.
Shout for joy to the Lord, all the earth, burst into jubilant song with music;
make music to the Lord with the harp, with the harp and the sound of singing,
with trumpets and the blast of the ram's horn--
shout for joy before the Lord, the King.
          --Psalm 98:2-6

Do You Hear Me?

Tuesday night, I writhed in anguish over one of my senior son’s quarterly grades. I’m not one to push at a teacher, especially when it’s a matter of an A versus a B—or even a C. But this was a matter of going into the final thinking he had a 93 average, then seeing a failing grade as his final average due to an overweighted zero on a review sheet it wasn’t clear was to be turned in before the final. (He wasn’t the only one, so I know it wasn’t made clear. After all, the rest in the class are girls!)

It was night when we discovered it. Nothing to do but wait until morning to check it out. And I would send my child in first, as is my modus operandi. (I want them to be ready to face their college professors with their questions, not always rely on their parents as their advocates.) But still, I worried. After all, this is my hard-working son. An average student but not a slacker student. My mama bear hackles rose and I wanted things made right. So in the quiet of the night, I tossed and turned—and I cried out to God. Please, I prayed. Please fix this. Don’t let all his hard work be for nothing. It isn’t right. Finally, I fell asleep.

When I woke the next morning, my stomach already churning over my son’s meeting with his teacher, I opened my Bible to the bookmarked place where I’ve been reading. Psalms. Psalm 61, to be exact. And here are the first words that met my eyes:

Hear my cry, O God; listen to my prayer.

From the ends of the earth I call to you, I call as my heart grows faint;

Lead me to the Rock that is higher than I.

In those words I knew God had heard me. I was still nervous, but more peaceful. We would deal with whatever happened, good or bad, for I knew that my Lord heard me and was working in our behalf, no matter the circumstantial outcome. Maybe there were lessons even in unfairness that my son or I or both of us needed to learn. But I prayed if it came out wrong, it wouldn’t have long-reaching consequences. Not after all of his labor.

My son, ironically, wasn’t worried at all. When he came home almost an hour later, he said it was all good. When I checked his grade online at lunchtime, it reflected the work he had done—he had not only passed the class, he had a fair grade as compensation.

One day I hope my faith will override my tendency to worry. But until then, the Lord graciously continues to remind me that He hears—and that He loves and cares for my children even more than I do. And for today, that’s enough.

That Moment

This moment arrives every December—sometimes early, sometimes later. It’s the moment when I know that I know that I must finish my Christmas shopping. This year it came yesterday. I scrapped the to do list and shopped with a frenzy. I’d done a bit here and there, but this was the final push. And it’s done. Now I can relax. Or rather, work. This year relaxing takes a backseat to writing, at least until my children all show up at home again early next week.

So when do you finish shopping? Do you set yourself a deadline? Do you wing it? Do you finish with time to enjoy the anticipation of Christmas or do you scramble until the last available minute?

Christmas Rectial

We went to my son’s Christmas recital on Saturday. I know some find such events tedious, but I’ve always enjoyed them—even more so now because the time is short.

My son began his lessons with this teacher in 2^nd grade. Before that, my dear friend taught him sporadically at home. In fact, she was the one who encouraged me to find him a teacher to keep him going. So we did.

When he was younger, I loved the recitals because I got to see where we were headed. This teacher always had several older boy students, so it was good for my son to have role models and aspirations to keep going. In those middle years, it was seeing where he’d come from as we watched the youngest performers and where this road would lead with the older ones.

Now, at 16, he’s one of the older ones. And while the more classical pieces he plays in his lesson domain are not his most favorite—he prefers the two praise bands, school and church, that he plays with—I’m so proud of him for sticking with it. I love the discipline it brings to his playing and the things he continues to learn that help him be a creative asset to those worship teams.

Two more years of Christmas recitals and it will be over. I want to hold on and enjoy every minute until then. 

A Sunday Psalm

May my cry come before you, O Lord;
give me understanding according to Your word.
May my supplication come before You;
deliver me according to Your promise.
May my lips overflow with praise,
for You teach me Your decrees.
May my tongue sing of Your word,
for all  Your commands are righteous.
           ---Psalm 119:169-172

What's Waiting Up Ahead?

“It would be so much easier if I knew now that I’d be published later,” said my writer friend and first-time mom-to-be.

As our conversation continued past writing on to parenting, I came back to this thought. “If I’d have known in those early, horrible years that I’d have an awesome almost twenty-year-old, it would have been so much easier.”

And yet in neither case are we allowed to know the end at the beginning. Why? Because the Lord calls us to a life of faith, of trusting in Him for the future—of our work and our children—while we simply obey day by day. We run the race with the finish line veiled in secrecy. And really, would we want it any other way? If we knew difficult things were coming, we’d shrink back from facing them. If we knew good things were coming, we wouldn’t have to push through and learn the hard lessons of suffering and dependence on God in the moment.

And so we put one foot in front of the other, every moment of every day, trusting in the goodness of God and persevering in our pursuit of godliness. And when we cross that finish line, our circumstances won’t matter. It will be our character, forged during the race of life, which wins the prize.

Racing Cars?

A friend asked me recently about the new novel in progress.

“What’s it about?” she said.

I always feel a little funny answering that question, but I did. “About a girl who ends up driving a race car. In 1916.”

Now you must know: I’m not a car girl and I’m not an adventurous risk-taker (although my drivers ed teacher did nickname me “Lead Foot.”) So this story has been a stretch for me. A fun one, but a stretch all the same.

And yet not long after that conversation I was prompted into thinking through some of my favorite cartoons from childhood and I discovered something interesting: two of my favorites involved race cars! Yes, Speed Racer and Penelope Pitstop.

It’s interesting what they have in common, both with each other and with my story. Race cars. Money. Romance. A bit of mystery. Maybe this book isn’t such a far-fetched tale after all. Maybe it’s my inner child remembering the thrill of something long forgotten.

Happy Birthday to My Husband!

I met him when he was 19 years old, a confident college junior with plans to attend law school and practice constitutional law. A dreamer wanting to change the world.

Today he turns 45, has been practicing law for twenty years, and after nineteen years of pro bono constitutional work, his favorite branch of the law is now his full-time job. And he still wants to change the world.

His hair is graying a bit—and thinning—though he won’t admit to either. He’s battled eye issues for a year and isn’t as fit as he knows he should be. But he’s a more sensitive and compassionate man than that brash 19-year-old. He loves the Lord and his family more deeply than ever. And he serves others with joy and without complaint.

Happy birthday to my sweet husband. I look forward to many, many more years of loving you.

A Sunday Psalm

This kind of sums up the Christmas season:

Come, let us sing for joy to the Lord,
let us shout aloud to the Rock of our salvation.
Let us come before Him with thanksgiving
and extol Him with music and song.
For the Lord is the great God,
the great King above all gods.
         --Psalm 95:1-3

Working Together--Separately

My husband is working from home today. Now I know some women who enjoy that kind of thing. I’m not necessarily one of them.

As much as I love my husband and enjoy being with him, I do not like it when we are both trying to work from the house. Why is that? Maybe it’s simply the jolt to my usual routine—and boy do I thrive on routine! Maybe it’s that a writer’s work often looks like no work at all. I spend time thinking, often while I’m puttering around the house doing things that don’t really matter. Maybe it’s the possibility of being interrupted once the words start to flow—or when I’m struggling to put one word after another on the screen.

Whatever it is, we have certainly not mastered the art of working together separately. Or rather, I haven’t. He seems to do just fine.

Black Friday

We’ve never been Black Friday shoppers. Well, my husband did convince me to go one year—for a $20 DVD player. He woke me up, drove us to the store, saw the crowd in the store, and stayed outside while I waited in line to pay. Then we went home. Haven’t attempted it since.

But this year my kids decided they needed to experience Black Friday in its truest form. “More power to you,” we said as we went to bed. They went to Walmart.

They arrived at 11:30 in search of the $3 appliances for daughter’s upcoming move to a campus apartment. Not one in sight. What they did see were women stacking their carts with movies (heedless of titles), crockpots, and anything else they could find on sale. Apparently right before they arrived there was even a brawl over Wii games that resulted in police and ambulance presence.

So after bombing out at Walmart, you’d think they’d have learned their lesson and come home to their warm beds. (Did I mention it was in the 30s that night?) But no. Instead, they came home for blankets and chairs and got in line at the sporting goods store. After all, the first 85 people would receive a gift card valued anywhere from $10-$500. As you can imagine, visions of sporting goods danced in their heads. Five hours later they finally arrived home and dropped into bed, having spent their $10 gift cards. (The $500 one went to the person four behind them.)

My daughter loved the rush of it all. My older son (who is very much like his father) hated it but laughed and refused to admit that (after all, he got free headphones out of the deal). But my younger son didn’t mince words. When we asked if it was worth it—the cold and the waiting and the up-all-night—he promptly answered “I’m not doing that again.”

A Sunday Psalm

Praise the Lord!
Give thanks to the Lord, for He his good;
His love endures forever.
Who can proclaim the mighty acts of the Lord
or fully declare His praise?
      --Psalm 106:1-2

A Very Different Day

I can’t remember ever spending a holiday without our extended family. I know I’m fortunate in that. But circumstances shifted this year and we found ourselves alone at the last minute. Just my husband and I and our three teenagers.

It wasn’t only the lack of numbers that made it a strange day. It was the quiet. Usually the holiday house is filled with the chaos of children, lots of women in the kitchen cooking and talking, and the occasional murmur from the men in front of the football games that lets us know they are still alive. Once we’ve cleaned up—together—there’s cheering for the Cowboys and the traditional halftime coffee and pies. At the end of the day, we divvy up the leftovers and head into the night, satisfied in both body and soul.

This Thanksgiving, I stressed over doing the whole meal myself, which led to tension that took a while to dissipate. We sat fairly docile as the Cowboys faltered, though we perked up a bit as they almost pulled off a great comeback. The upside: we had LOTS of leftovers, which was good since my husband and boys always complain that we don’t bring home enough of whatever they deem “the good stuff.”

In the end, it was a peaceful day, but not a normal one.

I think I prefer normal.

for so very much!

Thanksgiving Week

I love the week of Thanksgiving. It’s more than just that day of turkey and dressing and family and thankfulness. It’s a week off of school for my kids, time for us as a family. It’s meeting with friends and shopping and sleeping in. It’s movies and football and laughter and more food. It’s hauling out the Christmas decorations at the end of the week and transitioning from football to basketball. Thanksgiving, for me, is so much more than just the fourth Thursday in November. It’s a week I look forward to year after year.

The Child That Challenges

This is the child that challenges me—in a good way:

After a hard fought football playoff game, the last game of his high school career, we arrive at the restaurant. The boys had to line up at one register so I could pay their whole bill at once. The seniors took their rights of seniority to get closer to (or right at) the front of the line. Except my son. The senior. One of the team captains. He stood at the back. At the end. Making sure all the younger guys knew what they were doing, keeping them in line. Not complaining or huffing and puffing, no false humility or “please notice my sacrifice,” but truly exhibiting servant leadership.

I love that kid. He very often brings tears to my eyes. When I grow up, I want to be like him.

A Sunday Psalm

For who is God besides the Lord?
And who is the Rock except our God?
It is God who arms me with strength
and makes my ways perfect.
He makes my feet like the feet of a deer;
He enables me to stand on the heights.
He trains my hands for battle;
my arms can bend a bow of bronze.
You give me Your shield of victory,
and Your right hand sustains me;
You stoop down to make me great.
         --Psalm 18:31-35

Changing My Thinking

I found myself in our home office yesterday, staring at the papers strewn across the L-shaped desk. Noticing the overflow of the trash can spilling into the floor. The abandoned cups and bowls and silverware and headphones and cds. This office is not my own. I share it with teenagers doing homework and checking their email and surfing facebook. I pushed aside a bit of clutter and found myself thinking I can’t wait for the day when I have the office all to myself.

Then I stopped. I spend way too much time thinking “I can’t wait for the day when ________,” a day I have no guarantee will ever arrive.

That’s when it struck me that my problem wasn’t wishing for some future day—it was which day I was longing for! I should spend time thinking I can’t wait for the day when the Lord will wipe every tear from our eyes, when we will have no need of moon or sun for the Lord will be our illumination, when we worship before the Lamb that was slain. That isn’t futile wishing. That is longing for what the One who cannot lie has promised.

So it isn’t really my thought process that needs to change, just its focus. I can’t wait for the day when that won’t be such a problem for me—the day I will be like Him because I will see Him as He is.

The Master's Wall by Sandi Rog

I just got a new book in the mail. Nothing astonishing about that. But what is amazing is that I haven’t had time to pick it up and start reading yet! That’s how crazy my life has been lately.

But I wanted to tell you about this book now anyway. The Master’s Wall by Sandi Rog released earlier this month—on the same day that Sandi received the news of the tumor in her brain. A few days later, she learned it was an aggressive cancer. The writing community—including Sandi’s publisher—has rallied around Sandi and her family with prayer as well as physical support. To read a message from her publisher about the fund they’ve set up on Sandi’s behalf, click here.

But back to the book. You know I love historical fiction. Any era. Doesn’t matter. The Master’s Wall is set in 1^st century Rome and is the story of a Hebrew slave torn between his desire for freedom and his need to protect his master’s granddaughter. Sounds good, doesn’t it? I can’t wait to get started!

Click here to read a more in-depth synopsis and some reviews. If it sounds good, why don’t you get your own copy? And even if you don’t buy a copy, will you say a prayer for Sandi and her husband and their four children as they walk this difficult road?

Thanks!

Fill a Shoebox!

I love, love, love the Operation Christmas Child program run by Samaritan’s Purse. Our family has participated for many years and you may have read here before that during my daughter’s first mission trip to Ghana she was so blessed to help pass out these shoebox packages to the village children. When she came home she told us we needed to fill more boxes, even if with less things, because there were never enough for all the children. So we do. We save our shoeboxes all through the year and fill as many as we can. (This works very well during the years of kids with quickly growing feet!) Last year Samaritan’s Purse even implemented a tracking system where if you pay the shipping cost of each box online, you can print the label for it and they will email you later and let you know what country received your shoeboxes.

This is the official shoebox collection week and we are busy getting ours done. So how about you? Are you participating this year? Even one shoebox helps and is so appreciated by the child that receives it.

A Sunday Psalm

Keep me from deceitful ways;
be gracious to me through Your law.
I have chosen the way of truth;
I have set my heart on Your laws.
I hold fast to Your statutes, O Lord;
do not let me be put to shame.
I run in the path of Your commands,
for You have set my heart free.
       --Psalm 119:29-32

I Love the Early NIghts!

I know most people hate the most recent time change. I hear it all the time. But I want to go on record and say: I love it!

I know you are gasping and shaking your head, but let me explain. When it gets dark earlier, a couple of different things happen.

First, there is something about dark that discourages people from contacting you with immediate needs for information or action. Dark tends to be like pulling the curtains in around your family. While you still might get the phone call or email, something about it being dark outside seems give you a bit of space. It feels like night. Night is family time. And there is still something people respect about that.

The second reason I love this time change is that I’ve always worked better in the middle of the night. But working at night is not a good option for me these days. My eyes rebel at too many hours in contacts—and I need my contacts to function through the day. And my husband prefers it when I don’t climb in and out of bed, disturbing his sleep. Besides that, my days are full and I’m usually exhausted!

So when it gets dark earlier, my life slows down a bit and my body adjusts to its more natural body clock—and I actually become quite productive!

I know I probably still haven’t convinced you, but I don’t mind. I’ll just enjoy my long evenings doing the things I need to do—at least until basketball season kicks in and steals my peaceful nighttime hours!

Teacher Gets a Failing Grade

Usually it turns out the other way around. Usually the youngest child gets things or gets to do things way earlier than the older ones did. Maybe I’ve become a slacker mom. Or maybe God is using my overstuffed life to work patience in my child. I don’t know. But either way, I feel bad.

My youngest son won’t get his drivers license on his 16^th birthday next week. His brother and sister each got theirs on the day. He will have to wait. He hasn’t complained. Or pitched a fit. Or blamed me. But that almost makes me feel worse! If I hadn’t insisted he get his permit a year before his license, like the other two did, we could have done the driving school in town. But there wasn’t time to take the class last fall. I should have just let him do it in early summer and forgone those five extra months of practice time rather than “homeschooling” him for drivers ed, a course we are frantically trying to completely finish, though he has been driving in bits and pieces for the past year.

I know in the scheme of things it really isn’t that big of a deal. It’s not like I need him to drive—not like I needed his older brother to because their sister was leaving for college. And I know it puts off the inevitable spike in the car insurance, too. I’m trying to find the positives, see the good, but in the back of my mind the only thing I can hear is “Teacher, you failed.”

At least it was only his driver’s license, not his entire education!

The Angst Over Names

I’ve been angsting over changing my main character’s name. I’d chosen one I liked. One that fit my spunky but kind of offbeat girl. An old-fashioned name (of course), with an unusual spelling. I knew it the moment I saw it. I wrote the synopsis. I wrote the first draft. Then I got my CBD catalog in the mail and read my main characters name—the exact spelling, too!—in a blurb for book releasing next month.

Ack!

Now you may be like my husband and think what’s the big deal? Change it. Don’t change it. He actually said to me, “It’s a character, not a real person.”

That’s what you think! To me, this is a friend. And changing her name is harder than it was to change my own. And yet, like a mother with a new baby, you don’t want to copycat the unusual name of another baby within your circle of friends. You want yours to be unique.

So I’ve pondered. And searched. And talked. And pondered. And prayed. I think I’ve come up with a new name, one that I hope fits my girl just as well as the other. Maybe when the story is edited and polished I’ll discover that should have been her name all along. At least I hope so!

A Sunday Psalm

The Lord is gracious and compassionate,
slow to anger and rich in love.
The Lord is good to all, He has compassion
on all He has made.
All You have made will praise You, O Lord;
Your saints will extol You.
They will tell of the glory of Your kingdom
and speak of Your might,
so that all men may know of Your mighty acts
and the glorious splendor of Your kingdom.
    --Psalm 145:8-12

I Hate Grocery Shopping

I went grocery shopping the other day. I know that doesn’t sound remarkable, but I hate grocery shopping. Absolutely hate it. So for the past several months I’ve been trying to spend less time at the grocery store. No, I haven’t been forcing my family to fast, I’ve simply come up with a way to streamline my time. But it about kills me to do it.

You see, I’ve taken to shopping once a month. Kind of. I do the major monthly grocery shopping in one day. That involves a trip to Costco and to Walmart, with a master list of not only groceries but toiletries, too. I spend several hours combing through kitchen and bathroom cabinets in order to make my list. Then, armed with said list and with coupons (the only time in the month I make an effort to use them!), I’m off.

It takes hours of time to shop and load and unload and put away. And at the end, I’m exhausted. (I have to bring my groceries up a flight of stairs from the garage, so it’s an extra workout!) But it’s a good exhaustion because I know that except for a few quick trips to the grocery store that is two minutes from my house (more expensive, but I’m in and out in five minutes!), I’m through shopping for the month. And it only cost me one day instead of three or four.

So I’m done for November—except, of course that I’ll have to do another decent sized trip when I figure out what I’m responsible for at Thanksgiving. Then again, the kids are off school that week. Maybe I will send one of them!

Too Much in My Head

I’ve written this post about twenty times—on twenty different subjects. And I’ve deleted every one of them. It seems there is too much in my head to say anything worthwhile about anything. So instead of blabbering nonsense, I’ll send you on your way for today!

That Persistent Weed

 

I generally think of myself as a generous and sacrificial person most of the time. I don’t have a real problem giving money and doing without for myself, whether that takes the form of giving to ministries and charities or paring down my lifestyle for my husband to take his dream job with a non-profit or to give my kids those “little” things (truly—they rarely get the “big” ones!) in life. But as always happens, pride wells up before I fall.

This week reminded me once again that while I might be generous and sacrificial when it comes to money and possessions, I am stingier than Mr. Scrooge when it comes to my time. Why is that? As if I think my time is “mine.” I am not the maker of time. And if my attitude is that of a servant of the Lord, I am not a master of my time, either. I am to do the Lord’s bidding, whatever that entails. And sometimes it entails sacrificing my time to others.

It’s not a pretty side of me, not something I reveal without cringing. But it is the truth. I’ve seen it over and over and over again. And whenever I convince myself I’m doing better, than another situation shows me this is still an issue. I’m tired of pulling this same dandelion out of the garden of my heart. Hopefully next time I’ll be able to sacrifice my time without complaint. And one day maybe I’ll be able to do it with joy.

Do you have an issue that keeps cropping up like a persistent weed? Care to share?

A Sunday Psalm

Though the Lord is on high, He looks upon the lowly,
but the proud He knows from afar.
Though I walk in the midst of trouble,  You preserve my life;
You stretch out Your hand against the anger of my foes,
with Your right hand You save me.
The Lord will fulfill His purpose for me;
Your love, O Lord, endures forever--do not abandon the works of Your hands.
         --Psalm 138:6-8

Oh, That Aroma!

For the past few years we’ve made our coffee in a French press. I love making it that way. It’s easy. Very little clean up. And I can make a small amount when it is just me. But since my in-laws arrived last week we’ve pulled out the old coffee maker again. And I’ve remembered how much I love the smell of coffee brewing.

You see, in the French press method you don’t get any of that house-filling aroma. The kind they show on coffee commercials. The kind that pulls you out of a warm bed on a (finally!) cool morning. I’d forgotten how good it smells, reminding me of winter and holidays even though I didn’t grow up with coffee drinkers.

I’m sure when they leave we’ll put the coffee maker away again and go back to our French press. But in the meantime, I’ll savor that smell that weaves its way from the kitchen into my bedroom and gently wakes me to greet a new day.

How about you? Are you a coffee drinker? What method do you use to brew it and why?

Our Texas Rangers

The World Series starts tonight. And our Texas Rangers are playing. I still can't believe it!

I grew up in a family of sports fans. Some of my earliest memories are eating Thanksgiving dinner between the Detroit and Dallas games, watching college football games on New Years, and listening to Texas Rangers games on the radio. In the summer of 1976 I can remember our family going to a Ranger game to sit in the bleachers. The unusual thing about that trip? It even included my baby sister who was only a few weeks old!

All that to say: we are not bandwagon Rangers fans. I had a t-shirt replica of that old baby blue jersey. I was a card-carrying member of Jim Sundberg’s Junior Rangers. We had bats from bat night. T-shirts from t-shirt night. Gloves from glove night. For our family of six, we could sit in the bleachers and take our own food and have a fun family night that didn’t cost much. (I don’t think I had anything from the concession stand until I was an adult!)

When my husband, a huge fan of baseball in general, arrived in Texas, he immediately became a Rangers fan, joining a group at work with season tickets. We attended the opening day at The Ballpark, me more often in the bathroom than in my seat since I was newly pregnant with my third child. (Maybe that’s why baseball is his favorite game.) We won the lottery draw for the seats to the All-Star Game played there, too. We even attended one of the ill-fated playoff games in the 90s.

As our children got busier and we moved further from the stadium, we gave up our seats, but that didn’t change our love for the Rangers, our hope every spring that this would be the year. And now it is. Such a sweet victory for a life-long Ranger fan and her twenty-three year Ranger fan spouse. The only thing better: A World Series win.

Let’s go, Rangers!

A True Romance

I love the bride and groom imagery of the Bible. Over and over again, Old Testament and New, God uses this picture to convey His heart toward us—like a bridegroom to His bride. I ran across it again in Isaiah the other day. It made my chest ache and tears spring to my eyes.

“I delight greatly in the Lord; my soul rejoices in my God. For He has clothed me with garments of salvation and arrayed me in a robe of righteousness, as a bridegroom adorns his head like a priest, and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels.” (Isaiah 61:10)

“As a bridegroom rejoices over his bride, so will your God rejoice over you.” (Isaiah 62:5b)

I think it’s why an old fashioned romance-leading-to-marriage story always resonates with me. Because Jesus pursues my heart like a suitor, wooing me though I am unworthy of such love and devotion. Though I am incapable to returning it as perfectly as it is given. And isn’t that what a good romance is all about—overcoming obstacles and unworthiness (real or perceived) and receiving a love given without reservation? I used to imagine it was my husband’s job to fulfill my desires for romance. But over the years I’ve come to see that God is the true romancer of my heart. And His romance is perfect. Complete. And never-ending.

A Sunday Psalm

Blessed are they whose ways are blameless,
who walk according to the law of the Lord.
Blessed are they who keep His statutes
and seek Him with all their heart.
     --Psalm 119:1-2

A Change of Venue

I’m longing for the library these days. Not to peruse shelves or check out books, although I’m still in need of some research. No, what I’m longing for is the complete quiet and lack of distraction.

Lately it’s been getting more difficult to work at home. That happens when my life gets busy. Suddenly I feel compelled to attack the mound of dishes in the sink or the mountains of laundry taking over my closet. It’s not that I particularly enjoy those tasks, but when my days and nights are packed with activity, undone household chores haunt me. I have to have one area of my life that is order in the midst of chaos.

Thus my need for a change of venue. Where there is no pantry or refrigerator of food calling my name. Where no closet or shelf or drawer or desktop begs to be put in order. Where I can’t stop and just do “one thing.” Where I even have to turn off the sound on my phone and—gasp—potentially miss a rare and usually unimportant phone call or text.

It will be even harder to work from home for the next two weeks since my in-laws will be visiting. It’s not that they would care or interrupt, but I’d feel rude locking my self in a room while they are here. So I’ll be heading for a table and chair near a window or a study room with a door that shuts. Whichever the case, the quiet of the library will embrace me and the surroundings will not threaten to occupy my mind or body with any task other than finishing this book!

The Silent Governess by Julie Klassen

I had already read one of Julie Klassen’s books—The Apothecary’s Daughter—and thoroughly enjoyed it. So when I was given a copy of another of her books, The Silent Governess, I knew I had to read it. Especially after I’d met Julie face to face!

The Silent Governess did not disappoint. While not as dark as Jane Eyre can be, it follows in somewhat that vein of story—a governess, mysterious circumstances, and a somewhat moody master. What made this story even more fun for me was the setting, because I’ve been there! As I read about Arlington row cottages, a mill, an inn, and an E shaped manor house, I knew it matched my remembrance and my pictures of our trip to the Cotswolds in England. I emailed Julie—and I was right! In fact, Brightwell Court in the book is based on Bibury Court, the E shaped house in the picture below!

Isn’t that amazing? I loved that I’d been to the places being described—and that I recognized them from their descriptions! But more than just the setting held me riveted to the end of the book. Julie wove mystery and romance into one seamless story peopled by memorable characters. This one will definitely remain in my library!

Homecoming Hoopla!

My husband doesn’t understand homecoming. I guess homecoming hoopla is a Southern thing.  I love the excitement and the pageantry and the big, gaudy mums (which do seem to be a Texas thing). I love seeing the alumni and their parents at the football game. I love boutonnieres and corsages and the slew of parents taking pictures of dressed up couples going off to the dance the next evening.

Since our kids go to a small school, the senior year means an automatic place on the homecoming court. I loved watching my husband escort my daughter two years ago in her formal gown. And this year, I loved escorting my football player son, who didn’t stink quite as bad as I fear he would!

To top it off, we had the excitement of hearing his name called as Homecoming King, with his girlfriend named Homecoming Queen. Quite a weekend! Hope you enjoy this picture of the royal couple as much as I do!

A Sunday Psalm

Hear, O Lord, and answer me, for I am poor and needy.
Guard my life, for I am devoted to You.
You are my God; save Your servant who trusts You.
Have mercy on me, O Lord, for I call to You all day long.
Bring joy to Your servant, for to You, O Lord, I lift up my soul.
        --Psalm 86:1-4

No Time to Think

A house full of kids. Fun, but exhausting. I'll be able to think again on Sunday, so I'll see y'all again then!

Back at Home

It’s been a surreal two days. After ten years of writing, never knowing if anything more would come of it than a sense of having accomplished writing a novel, I found myself in meetings with Bethany House, my publisher, at the their offices in Minneapolis. It was an awesome time of getting to know the people who are handling my book. Walking through the offices, with paintings of many of their book covers adorning the walls, I again felt humbled and amazed.

I knew so many of those books. Read so many of them in ages past. To be numbered among those authors is just beyond my wildest imaginations. And the people! Their friendliness put even introvert me quite at ease. I met so many who could be my friend on a purely social level.

I talked with people about cover design and marketing. I met with editors to discuss the book that is finished and the book that is in progress. I met the woman who dealt with my contract and Julie Klassen, Bethany House editor and author, who I knew only via an email loop—and from reading her book! I even did a podcast interview and took author photos!

Everywhere I turned I could again see the amazing hand of the Lord in this journey, even in the parts that stretched my comfort zone. There will be more stretching to come, I know. But after two days of business clothes and meetings, I’m definitely ready to be back home in my blue jeans, sitting in my comfy chair, computer in my lap, creating stories. And I’m pretty sure my husband and boys are glad to have me back there, too.

A Balancing Act

I have an interesting week coming up, one that is filled with activity that requires a balancing act like I’ve never before attempted. It has the potential for great fun—or a total meltdown.

I’m meeting with my publishing house this week—my editor, the marketing people, the art people, other writers, etc. I’ll be submerged in my new world as a writer. And while aspects of it are terrifying, I also imagine I’ll love every minute!

At the same time, it’s Homecoming week—and one son is a senior. Homecoming always kind of signals the first of the “last time” of so many things. So there will be dress up days and the big pep rally and escorting my boy who looks more and more like a man onto the field as part of Homecoming Court. The football game and mums and garters and dressing up for the dance and picture taking and corsages and boutonnieres.

Now add in fall break from college—and the daughter coming home with three friends in tow. I love college kids. Love having them in the house. They’ll participate in some of the Homecoming festivities, but they also have their own agenda for the weekend. I hope to get to talk with them, laugh with them, watch cooking shows instead of ESPN!

Three different aspects of my life converging into one very busy week. What I don’t want is to get overwhelmed, to let tiredness or frustration infiltrate my words and mar these special times. I’m praying I can find balance, have realistic expectations, live in each moment, so that when everything settles on Sunday afternoon I can savor every memory and regret none.

A Sunday Psalm

Out of the depths I cry to You, O Lord;
O Lord, hear my voice, let Your ears be attentive to my cry for mercy.
If You, O Lord, kept a record of sins, O Lord, who could stand?
But with You there is forgiveness; therefore You are feared.
I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in His word I put my hope.
My soul waits for the Lord more than watchmen wait for the morning,
more than watchmen wait for the morning.
O Israel, put your hope in the Lord, for with the Lord is unfailing love
and with Him is full redemption.
He Himself will redeem Israel from all their sins.
             --Psalm 130:1-8

Two New Loves

I’m in love—with two new-to-me web applications.

Of course I run the risk of all my readers rolling their eyes and saying, “Duh.” I’m usually the last one to jump on any bandwagon because frankly, if everyone is talking about something, I tend to ignore it completely. (I’m just rebellious that way.)

So here goes.


Google Reader

Thanks to my friend Patti Lacy for alerting me to this free aspect of Google. In Google Reader I can follow a ton of blogs and actually keep up with them! I even put the “subscribe” button on my bookmark bar in my browser. Now anytime I read an interesting new blog, I just hit my “subscribe” bookmark and it adds it to my Google Reader.

How does this help me read all these blogs I’ve subscribed to? First, by not cluttering up my email so that I just hit delete! No, now I go to Google Reader (bookmarked) in my web browser and scroll through the new posts. It marks each of them read as I pass it. Then poof! The “read” ones are gone. Still doesn’t mean I “read” every single post of every single blog, but it is there when I want it and doesn’t stress me out.

           

TeuxDeux

Thanks to Marti Pieper for singing the praises of this “To Do” list program. If you been around here for any length of time, you know I live by lists. I’ve kept them on paper for years. But sometimes I need my lists when I’m on the go. Enter TeuxDeux.

Their web-based application is free. Just sign up! But the really great thing is that for a mere $3 you can buy the iphone app as well. And they sync! And it is super easy to use! While I’m still keeping paper lists as a backup at the moment, I can feel the paperless transition coming now. Check it out: www.teuxdeux.com. It’s awesome!

So there you have it. My two new loves. Because of course I love anything that makes my life run just a bit more smoothly!

            

The Bad with the Good

Oh autumn, how I love you!

Kind of.

I love the changing colors of the leaves—but I hate raking the leaves that blanket my yard.

I love the coolness in the air—but I hate changing clothes throughout the day as the temperature makes wild swings.

I love football season—but I hate driving to far away games.

I love the tinge of smoke in the air on a cold afternoon, and a fire blazing in my own fireplace—but I hate buying and stacking the wood.

All good things have a down side. All strengths have a corresponding weakness. For the moment, I’m trying to enjoy the things I like about this time of year. But the things that irritate me keep getting in the way.

It comes down to a choice. Will I choose to take the good with the not as good—or will I spoil the good by dwelling on the parts I don’t particularly like? It’s not just an autumn thing. It’s a life thing.

“Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.

                        --Phillipians 4:8

The College Search

My daughter only had three colleges on her list. We looked at all three. She applied and got accepted to two. She picked one. By late September of her senior year, we were done.

Not so this go-round. I’ve now been with my son to visit six different colleges. My husband took him to another one without me. Seven universities. We still have at least 2-3 to visit—maybe more. And I’m getting tired.

I mean really, how many financial aid lectures can you listen to—especially after we pretty much have it down with one already in college? The dorms are all starting to look the same. And given that most of the schools he’s chosen to look at are small, Christian colleges, they are similar in tone and requirements. I think I could practically give the tours myself now, as long as I had a few key terms unique to that school.

At least football district play is about to begin, so that will table his thoughts of the college search for a few weeks. Maybe by then I can gear up for a few more drives, a few more informational sessions, a few more tours. But most of all I’ll be looking forward to the day when he makes a decision and we can all breathe a sigh of relief that the selection process is over!

A Sunday Psalm

How precious is Your lovingkindness, O God!
And the children of men take refuge in the shadow of Your wings.
They drink their fill of the abundance of Your house;
And You give them to drink of the river of Your delights.
For with You is the fountain of life;
In Your light we see light.
    --Psalm 36:7-9

Sense and Sensibility

I finally indulged myself. After listening to the music for the past few weeks, I finally watched Sense and Sensibility again. I love that movie. I think it is almost perfect. The writing. The acting. The music. The costumes. The cinematography. I can quote most of the lines, even after not watching it for a while.

I think much of the reason I love this story is the interplay between Elinor (Emma Thompson) and Marianne (Kate Winslet.) I can see myself in both of them. I can be the incurable romantic. Self-centered, impulsive, running on emotion. I can also be the practical one. Taking care of others, downplaying expectations, concealing the depth of my emotions. Yes, I’m both extremes warring in one body. I will admit that the older I get, the less I resemble Marianne. Which is good. And yet, even Elinor learns the value in acknowledging her feelings. A lesson I do well to remember.

If you haven’t ever seen this version of Jane Austen’s classic novel, or if you haven’t watched it recently, indulge yourself. And let me know whom you identify with most!