Come hither... let us think

It's funny the things you think about when you are thinking. After two miserably sick days for all of us, I felt surprisingly rested and well lying in bed last night waiting for sleep to take me. And it occurred to me- he made them disappear. Have you seen this movie, The Illusionist? At the beginnning of the movie, there is a scene where the best friends in young love run away trying to escape the powers that be forcing their separation and she says to the boy, newly practiced in magic tricks, "Make us disappear," in desperation hoping to escape forever, but he can't do it and they are ripped apart seemingly forever. But in the end- don't read this if you haven't seen it- he does it, he makes them disappear... it's fantastic writing! I'm lying there thinking, "He really did- he made them disappear! How brilliant!"

Which brings me to my next thought, "Is it inclusion or foreshadowing?" These simple literary lessons being stacked in sections as we continue -- let me interrupt here to say that Leila is standing next to the wall beside me; there's an arch between the dining room and living room and in the arch the wall is wide, also the floorboards are thick and high, but only in the sense of floorboards, in reality they are about half an inch out from the wall and the wall is maybe 6-7 inches thick. All that to say she's leaning against the wall and trying to sit on the top edge of the floorboard, and all the sudden she slides completely down, feet first, onto the floor in a *shwoop*. She is so funny! --as we continue the laborious process of studying HOW TO READ THE BIBLE FOR ALL ITS WORTH. That, my friends, is another feature of a narrative, where repitition resumes the narrative after it is interrupted. Repitition is a significant attention grabber pulling the reader's attention into the plot.

For months I have not been pressed to write... my ramblings, rather, I've ensconced in fiction requiring nothing but time and the energy it takes to type. However, the tide has changed and I have so much to think about that I'm compelled to write. Surely my readers have given up on finding anything new here because most of you talk to me on a regular basis, but if you have found me here before, you will certainly find me here again.

P.S. For HOW TO READ studiers: It's chaism(a)... if you have read the chapter, that was probably the most confusing feature, but here it is in simple terms. Not in the movie, it's in the paragraph above. The writer uses the ABCCBA plotline... it starts A:literary features B:Leila on the wall C: the structure of the wall C: detailed structure of the wall B: Leila back on the wall and falls A: literary features. S

*sigh*

Hello to you, my faithful friends and readers! Please forgive; I have not been available to attend to my current literary venture due to the gaping ditch running the length of my driveway. Having five children and no access to the facilities is an impossibility in the winter in Nebraska. SO I promise to attend to the afore mentioned venture in due time. Meanwhile if you are looking for a good read, I've heard there is a new post on www.bigafrican.blogspot.com that you might take an interest in. See you next post...

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas. Outside.

A litte here... I managed to clean up the masses of confetti from the 10:07 countdown to the new year with the kids and was thinking about the year we had New Years with the Suttons and Dana said she was cleaning it up for weeks. Fortunately I had the foresight to say, "We don't need to use all these," and tuck them behind the punch bowl. Thank you Sista bringing your party favors, and lucky for us we'll have some for next year! Woohoo!

Now we're waiting for the events of the day to unfold; looks like we'll head out into the cold, bundled to the hilt with sleds, boxes, and trash bags. I used to be fun. In college they called school off one time due to drastic weather conditions; and being that we lived on campus, the foot of snow meant we were stuck. So like resourceful students, we raided the kitchen of giant pots and serving trays and belly-flopped down the hill all morning, afternoon, and night. Let me tell you, it was the time of my life. (back then) I did risk life and limb for the thrill of one more trek down the hill after dark, which by that time was a sheet of ice, and I flew down the hill, into the ditch, up the other side in a spinning blur and landed hard in the middle of the street, which was something I failed to anticipate. Fun stuff.

Now I'm busy; a busy, boring mom with little energy for fun. So after the suggestion was brought to the table, I forged past the busy boringness of who I have become, back into the adventurous being I used to be and decided we should go. So we're going.

Woohoo.

Predictability

Sometimes I think my life is uneventful, unpredictable.

I just walked into my kitchen to find
a mysterious Wal-Mart bag in the
center of the floor.

The floor I meticulously mopped yesterday
afternoon just minutes before
Leila dumped the sugar bowl all over
the floor and before Tre
knocked his soda off the table onto
the floor where it splattered about a
three mile radius.

SO I was walking through
the yard picking up various pieces
of trash and I realized there were
piles of
dog poop
everywhere.
EVERYWHERE.

At first I thought it was just one corner of the yard,
but as I ventured from one end to the other,
I found it
everywhere.
It was disgusting.
I kept imagining all the
frolicking children that play
in the yard on Sundays after church and
wondered how many of them dragged
dog poop into
their minivans and suvs.
*snicker*
I know. It's gross, but
I called the poop patrol,
which gladly obliged my request to pick up
the poop when I offered
wal-mart bags and plastic gloves.
Am I crazy? That's how I'd do it,
if I had to be on poop patrol,
which I don't,
because I've got five able-bodied children that
take great pleasure in doing such things.

Which brings me to my next point of interest.
Here's my dog, our dog;
he's their dog when
I don't want to be part owner and caretaker.
I walked out the door today and
saw the greatest thing ever.
We have a pink dolly
stroller with a canopy,
just big enough that
Leila can still take rides in it
when she feels up for the adventure.
I saw this little bundle of blankets tucked inside
the stroller and assumed it was a doll until
I saw poor Scooter's face
sticking out of the blankets!
Kennedy had him wrapped up and
sitting on his tail,
like a baby would be positioned.
He was just riding along like
it was normal until
he saw me and was immediately embarrassed, then
he started squirming to get out.
I couldn't find my camera,
naturally, and the batteries to the
video camera were both dead so I only captured
a milisecond of the moment, but I caught it darn it!

I'm sitting here laughing
to myself as I merrily type along,
all the children are playing outside in the
remarkably warm-for-December weather, and
I think to myself, "I hope
Leila doesn't go out there.
Surely there are still piles of mashed
poop in the grass,
she'll get it all over her little feet.
That would be awful."
I knew the door was open, but I was so
engrossed
in getting this written that
I couldn't tear myself away.
Yeah.
In the meantime I hear a rustling
plastic bag.
Leila.
Kitchen.
Plastic bag.

You guessed it.
She had carried the bag out
the back door and was just starting to
rummage through it.
I laughed all the more and threw
the bag out into the yard for
the kids to dispose of properly and
Kennedy said,
"If she was playing with it, I know why. Cuz we were too; it's really fun!"

It's not. Predicable or uneventful. Ever.

These are a few of my favorite things...

Friends

One of the greatest things about life in Nebraska is that
we have friends.

I have LOVED living in Missouri because
we were surrounded by family.
My mom and dad were close,
my sister lived with us,
Dale's mom and dad and sister and nephew were a mile down the road,
we had aunts, uncles and cousins and grandparents
at every birthday party and holiday,
it was amazing.

The thing about Fremont is the spontaneity.
I LOVE it.
People stop by, make play dates, drive by to check on us...
we have friends.
I still have my sister,
who is the only person besides Dale that
I am COMPLETELY uninhibited
with, and for that
I am more than grateful.
God knows I need her; and
we think each
other is
the funniest person in the world.
But in addition to that,

I have people here that I am totally
comfortable with.
I don't feel pressure when they walk into my house and
it's messy.
It doesn't matter if I am already
in my jammies and slippers or
if I am in the middle of a project that involves
piles of books and papers
strewn throughout the room,
I love to be able to just drop it to
sit and chat whenever the opportunity arises.
I love it.
I love having friends that love us
and that love hanging out.

It never ceases to amaze me how God's blessing works.
We have lived for a long time without friends and
without social stimulation,
which naturally forced us to
rely on each other
for both of those things.
That was the greatest blessing we could've asked for because
it reinforced the fact that God,
in His infinite wisdom,
gave us everything we need in Him first and
each other secondly.
Now that we are both completely convinced
of that very thing,
He has lavished on us a multitude of
people to run the race with,
that will crack jokes or
cry with us, but above all
fight the good fight and
stand beside us.

For this I am more than grateful,
I am humbled.

On writing

Starting to feel a little more normal... a lot more normal,
adding elements back one at a time, now if I could just
get away from that wretched devil
food that haunts me and lures me
into the lair of gluttony...

But in the grand scheme of things, I am feeling the balance
starting to come back to middle ground.
So many great things in my life,

I feel hopeful. I feel
more than hopeful, I am excited
about life.
I am excited about the potential of the
things that are happening in my life and

I wake up ready to start the day before I have to.
I am writing again
and that, my friends, is exciting.
Something about writing frees me.
I can't explain it; I know I've said it before, but

writing, like running, gives me the exhileration of flying.
Now, I've never flown
but I have been on a contraption that simulates flying
to a certain degree.
(The rip cord, it's a thrill ride at
World's of Fun that is like bungee cord jumping,
only you don't jump,
they strap you in and then
string you up and you
drop and fly through the air.)

So I can only guess
what flying must feel like
and this is the same thrill for me intellectually.
I love it.
I once read that writers cannot
not write, because it's not about the result
of the writing as much as
it is about the writing for the writer.
So adding that one simple element
has given me
a new lease on this new life.

So thank You God.
I know what it is that does it for me, and it's only because
You gave it to me.

Journey

Now blows the wind of change today just as the seasons pass;
And in my heart I tremble as the promise comes as last.
And yet I know that life is never just or right or true;
But I will cling incessantly to Him, He gets me through.

He's real and never failing, He's a diamond in the rough;
A standard for my vision and the hope in whom I trust.
He holds me as I tremble and speaks gently in the night;
Surrounds me with His kindness, pours His blessing as I fight.

Promises of courage never give much relief;
Until I've found my safety in the deep and safe reprieve.
It's ever climbing onward, ever looking to the end;
Up the mountains, down the valleys, with me journey, faithful friend.

Newness

Something about going home spawns growth. I see it most in my children, they always come home from Nana's saying new words or walking or potty trained... This time it's me. My journey there and back has given me a grasp on my world, or rather, a perspective that I have been scrambling to grasp and had yet to find. Sitting at the kitchen table with my parents turned the light on. It is the gravity of going back to the beginning- returning to my roots. I feel like I can see a little more clearly in order to remedy the "treading water forever" feelings.

I needed to find my footing on my own. And then I needed to come home because I can no longer find completion apart from Dale. He's my anchor. And then I needed to be with my family here, in the body of Christ. I need to worship with my brothers and sisters and eat with them and laugh with them. That's the air... In Christ I have life, and in that I have family and community and abundance. I have everything in the world, a deep resounding joy even if I'm teary, because I have found my place in the universe and it's right here. So thank You, Father, for sending us down the road least likely.

Changes

I was just telling a friend that even my dog is different. I feel like we've been here so long, but it's only been a couple of weeks; it just feels like we're settled. At the same time, we are not. So I'm scoffing at our poor little Scoo and saying he's whiny and clingy... In the meantime I was reading something that I wrote from Smalltown USA six weeks ago, and frankly, I'm not the same. It's strange. I feel like myself, I think I look like myself- except that I'm awake during the day and I *usually* sleep at night. But somehow, I'm not myself. My writing is not the same. My responses are not the same. I am have not become completely acclimated to our new life here. It's understandable. It's so new.

But one thing is real. One thing is the same, it's still true. God is here. He is here, and He is very real. I can never escape His watchful eye. His thoughts of me are endless. And that, my friends, is quite reassuring. I have always had this sort of made up idea of what "freedom" is. We sing about being free and having freedom. In my studies I have discovered that freedom is soul regeneration from death to life and in that not carrying dead weight through this life. But more than that, freedom is in God's sovereignty. Freedom is in belonging to Someone. And in all of that, all He wants from me is me.

I read an article about this hurried mother and her children that brings this into perspective. She was dragging her little one in to the day care provider's home so that she could get to work, but the little girl insisted on picking up a rock to give to the mother and one for her pocket. Her mother thanked her and cast it aside as they rushed up on the porch and into the house. As they entered, the care taker was also given a rock which she gratefully accepted and pocketed. The mother apologized and offered to take it out with her as she left, but the woman refused and lead the mother to the back porch where she watched as the woman dropped the little rock into a tub full of other rocks. She explained that while children are young, everything they have is given to them. They are given all of their clothes, their food, even the papers they color on are given by adults. So in order to give something away with sincerity, they find things that no one owns and offer them as gifts. She said she never refused a gift from a child. The woman set in her heart to do the same from that day on.

On a grander scale, everything I have is God's and so to give Him me, while it's sometimes a meager offering of weakness and poverty, He receives gladly because it's all He wants from me. It takes all the pressure off; it's makes living peaceably and with sincerity a sweet offering to Him and from Him. My life is His, all that I have have is His, everything else is peripheral.

2 Corinthians 2:14 But thanks be to God, who always leads us in triumphal procession in Christ and through us spreads everywhere the fragrance of the knowledge of him.