Monster-in-Law

Fast forward to 2020. So much has changed in the last several years. Graduations, marriages, births…these changes have made a monster out of me. TBF, a monster more in line with Cookie Monster than a Demogorgon, but a monster nonetheless. I’d like to think I’m a koala-esque, cuddly, and fun to be around Monster-in-Law. Here’s hoping there is agreement among my children! BTW, why the term “Monster-in-Law” to begin with? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

As a mom of only boys, I can without a doubt say that daughters-in-law are a different kind of happy. I can’t imagine what it would be like to not have awesome ones because that’s what I have: truly exceptional daughters-in-law each unique in their giftedness. It used to be a tradition of mine to give gifts to my loved ones around my birthday. They have been such a great gift to me that I wanted to share these words as my public gift to them. That gift is too great not to share so I decided to gloat here.

Periwinkle is a balanced mom with an admirable wellness focus. She is consistent, supportive, and I recently learned, an exceptional written word communicator. One of my greatest joys has been observing her interactions with my son and see the level of mutual respect they have. Since their little one, Mr. Squishy Face, was born some years back, it has been a pleasure watching them parent together. The other great joy I have is seeing how unconditionally she supports my son’s dreams and aspirations. Periwinkle is through and through the best life partner My Little Chicken could have!

Hard-working. If I had to select only one word to describe Smooth Operator, that’s the one I choose. I have a feeling she’s an employer’s dream! In the years I’ve known her, watching her work ethic and dependability has been impressive. She is stable yet forward thinking. Watching her give cuddles to her babies is so very sweet! She likes surprises and is unable to defer the joy of knowing what those are. As a life partner, she is patient, accepting, and compromising. She makes it happen for the good of her family. I frankly don’t know how she has the energy but I’m sure the three young ones will do their best to zap it from her!

Our newest family addition, Cassia, is warm, dedicated, and infectiously charming! When she says “Hi mom!” it warms my heart almost as much as her little one, Bubbles. Cassia is unassumingly bright and her love for her family cannot be confined to a few words. She has learned to just roll with the fact that our family’s sardonic humor is here to stay. When I pull an r/oldpeoplefacebook type question, she generally answers it without mocking me. Watching her love my son just the way he is and because of who he is makes me feel like my prayers for him have been answered.

Those prayers continue as Cinci’s future life partner is yet to be discovered/determined but I know that whoever they are will join a group of extraordinary young women who are exceptional life partners and excellent moms. They live out that “better than the promises is the day we got to keep them” and I love them!

You’re Doing it Wrong

I don’t know if your loved ones, or perhaps even your liked ones and you ever get into petty, unimportant, inconsequential disagreements about minor #firstworldproblems type stuff, but, I’ll admit that, in my family, sometimes we do. And, by sometimes, I mean sometimes in the literal sense not in a minimizing and/or sarcastic way. Full disclosure: I received a written release (by text) to include what I am about to share. 

The other day, Triple M was dutifully thinking about vehicle usage and miles traveled, probably for resale value purposes or some other guy reason I will never understand. He was contemplating the benefits of switching cars with me for a while because he travels three times as far as me, and his car is newer. During these types of conversations, he’s not only Triple M but rather Alpha Male Triple M. Think Don Draper meets Jack Reacher. At least that is my perception. And when he is “Alpha Male Triple M” you know he means business.

I don’t do well with change, particularly this kind of change because it seems it takes me forever to get used to driving a different car. Adjusting seats forward, mirrors, steering wheel, UGH! However, I lean towards attempting to be an Ephesians 5 kind of wife which meant my response should be, “Whatever you think is best”. 

This was fine until he started asking questions about the condition of my car, both aesthetically and mechanically. I mentioned I don’t do well with change, but, did I mention I do less well when feeling questioned? The first question was “How clean is your car? Do I need to clean it? Ephesians 5 was the last thing on my mind when I turned to look at him if you know what I mean. My version of “clean” and his version of “clean” are very different. He knows…why does he ask?!

He followed with, “When you let go of the wheel, does it veer to one side more than another?” This really confused me. I don’t know under what circumstances I would “let go of the wheel”. I think he was trying to ascertain any alignment issues. I don’t notice these things (hence his questions, right?). 

Then comes the whopper of the question: “When you drive, do you try to avoid the potholes or do you hit them?” he asked. Now, in his defense, I have in the past mentioned how perhaps, there was a certain pothole on my way to work that, somehow, I hit each and every time for weeks. It therefore wasn’t a wholly unreasonable question. Nonetheless, I was upset. My response was something along the lines of, I totally hit them pretending I was getting Mario points each time; perhaps I should keep score. All this was said in my most pouty, petulant voice I could muster. Then, I reminded him I am not a child :-)

Yet my reaction was one of a child more than of a reasonable, mature person. Here is an excellent idea based on a smart risk assessment but I didn't like it, or like the way it would inconvenience me for maybe a day or two until I got used to it. This encounter brings to the forefront my need of a greater worldview – a view that says, “I realize no one else is like me and I am not like them, but, the goal is not that. The goal is to be more like Him”. 

We get confused on this point. The invitation is not to be all alike but rather to be like-minded, having the same love (the love of God Himself), being one in spirit and in mind (Philippians 2:2), to be like minded-be sympathetic, love one another, be compassionate and humble (I Peter 3:8), so that with one mind and one voice you may glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ (Romans 15:6).

I “overheard” this from a good friend: “I truly believe that God will reconcile the world to His ways one day. It is not for me to say how that will look... it is not for me to say what will happen to those who don't follow that path. All I can say is that I believe their fate, and mine, is ultimately in the hands of a loving and merciful God.”

And this is why we share the Good News. Not so that others become like “us” but so that they make their choice, take their path and hopefully, choose to be like-minded as we truly begin to love God, love others, and serve our World. Otherwise, we are just doing “it” wrong.

The Canvas

I fondly yet a little embarrassed remember after school days when I was about 12 years old. Immediately upon leaving school, I would go to the library and check out a book. I would then head to a local bodega and purchase a Diet Pepsi and pork rinds. I’m pretty sure I was almost a complete vegetarian at that time, and I don’t think I knew what pork rinds were until many years later. This is way before I began reading the ingredients of most everything I ate. Those who know me best know about my aversion to BHT and high fructose corn syrup. Oh, and all things pork. But, I didn’t know pork rinds came from pork. I must have thought they were like buffalo wings.

Comfortably on the stoop with my Pepsi, pork rinds, and book, I would sit relaxing. If I read something interesting, I would make a note of it on my…jeans. I had one pair and they were my journal or perhaps more like a canvas as they kind of became a work of art. I was classy though, and only wrote on the front of the jeans. I mean, it’s tacky to have writing on the back, right? That and I didn’t reach the back.

I remember these jeans because they “grew with me”, not that there was much to me at the time. They went from full length jeans to crop to capris. At some point I must have come across another pair as an upgrade. In that transition, though I don’t remember it, my other jeans disappeared.

Though I don’t remember how I lost them, I do remember the devastation. These jeans had been through so much with me (and on me). So much of my heart was poured via black magic marker on them. Many times, I would sit there and reread what was written on them. I felt secure with them and in them. But, like so many things we outgrow, I needed to let them go to make space for something better.

Those jeans are very representative of life during those years. The canvas of my life had so much already covering it there was little to no room for anything new. And on a canvas, one can only use the front! I needed an upgrade on that too and I am thankful that I came across it. More precisely, I faced the Cross and was given a new canvas. Then the choice of what would go on this canvas – the canvas of my heart and mind began.

I won’t add quotes or song lyrics at this time. My favorite volumes are still non-fiction. Your life, my life are non-fiction. He wants to write in them. He wants to paint on the canvas of our lives.  I can only invite you to let Him. I can only tell you the joy of growing with Him and in Him brings. You have to make a choice on what you want to go on your canvas. Others will see what’s on it. All I can say is that the upgrade is worth your while!

“F” Words

Those who know me well know I do not like “F” words. There are certain ones that make me very uncomfortable when I hear them, to the point I tell the offending person (maybe not right at that moment but in the near future) “I do not like the “F” word”. For others, I question why it’s even necessary to use them.

According to all things Google, the English language has approximately 1,025,110 words.  On average, and although very difficult to document (no pun intended), a native English speaker may know and/or use between 35,000 to 50,000 words out of those over a million available.

That is not to say it’s necessary to use every word imaginable. George Orwell gives great advice when he said “Never use a long word where a short one will do” and “Never use a foreign phrase, a scientific word, or a jargon word if you can think of an everyday English equivalent.”

As Blaise Pascal said “Words differently arranged have a different meaning, and meanings differently arranged have a different effect.” I think Pascal could have used Orwell’s advice; nonetheless, words have meaning!

Because words have meaning, the overuse or misuse of these particular “F” words – failure, fear, and frantic -- really bothers me.  I hope you didn’t think I was speaking of other kinds of “F” words. It bothers me because sometimes, they should have no space in our brains the way they do, and even worse, take hold in our hearts in such a way that they skew our perspective.

Take failure. Why all the, as Cinci would say, hatorade towards it? I recently heard a lecture quoting NASA Administrator Charles Bolden regarding failure. He says “Risk intolerance is a guarantee of failure to accomplish anything of significance.”  I really love that! We fail when we refuse to try but unless we try, what do we accomplish? Another different perspective on failure is these words by Henry Ford:"Failure is an opportunity to begin again, this time more intelligently." It’s okay to fail as long as we learn and move forward. A good Bible verse to remember is:

“For the righteous falls seven times and rises again, but the wicked stumble in times of calamity.” - Proverbs 24:16 (ESV)

Then there is fear. In my personal experience, this one is tied closely to failure. I don't know about you, but I am sometimes afraid of failing at that which is important to me. I have feared not being a good enough mom, a good enough wife, a good enough Christian, a good enough worker, a good enough friend...basically, name a relationship, I have feared that my inadequacies may ruin them. I appreciate the wordsmithing of Andrew Peterson in the song "Just as I am". He says:

All of my life I've held on to this fear

These thistles and vines, ensnare and entwine

What flowers appeared

It's the fear that I'll fall one too many times

It's the fear that His love is no better than mine

And I have feared especially the last part. However, through faith I can believe that is not the mindset Jesus wants for me. 2 Timothy 1:7 (NKJV) says:

“For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind.”

And Isaiah 41:10 affirms:

“Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”

The chorus to the song quoted above says:

Just as I am and just as I was

Just as I will be He loves me, He does

He showed me the day that

He shed His own blood

He loves me, oh, He loves me, He does

I can believe this and not fear my shortcomings because of His sacrifice for me! And, you can too because of His sacrifice and love for you too!

Frantic is a little different. I don’t think I use the word as much as living it at times. Am I so hurried that the activity steals my peace? Am I so frenzied and full of worry about trivial things I cannot pause to reflect on His goodness? Do I let #firstworldproblems steal my joy? I know that is not how I should think and certainly not the way I should live.

From John 16:33 to Isaiah 26:3 to Psalm 27 to Matthew 6:31-34 to Psalm 46 to John 14:27 and more – the message is clear. He’s got this!

And since He’s got this, we can heed the advice of Philippians 4:6-7:

“Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.”

He will guard our hearts and minds and replace those “F” words. He will give us flawless instead of failure, faith instead of fear, fulfilled instead of frantic.

What’s your favorite positive “F” word?

Scrubbing Bubbles

I don’t know if like me you are fascinated with those little guys/gals zooming around, so happily clearing all sorts of grime, scum, dirt and entirely gross bathroom fixtures. It’s magical thinking about their dedication and precision, making such a task not only enjoyable, but even delightful!

The thought of how they work is whimsical, but the reality of how much they may not makes me sad. It makes me sad because I so want to believe it then, alas, I still have to get the scrubber for the ring around the tub. Even worse is the other cleaner that “guarantees” no scrubbing and deceitfully turns from blue to white when “ready” to be wiped. The problem is that when the grime, scum, dirt and other gross stuff is way beyond the surface, a simple “wiping” does not work.

Likewise, it’s the same when cleaning the closets of my heart. Wiping my heart just on the outside doesn’t work. It’s worse still when I am constantly trying to use rags filthy with unrighteousness (Isaiah 64:6). For real, consistent, and long-lasting cleansing, I can’t use my own rag. I need something more powerful. I can come close to appearing to those around me as “sanitized” (Matthew 23:27-28) through my behavioral changes, but the reality is different. And even if I am successful in appearing that way, what I truly need is to be sanctified. I need to be cleansed from the inside out. And for that, I need to be covered in red.

In ways I can’t explain with logic, and unlike those household cleaners that turn from blue to white when “ready”, the blood that covers me does indeed turn my unrighteousness from red to white if I accept it. There is a step we can’t skip. We respond to His invitation in acceptance, and we let Him clean it all up. We let Him live in us and through us daily. This is the promise in Isaiah 1:18 (ESV):

“Come now, let us reason together, says the Lord: though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red like crimson, they shall become like wool.”

And this is true regardless of our past!

“…but you were washed, but you were sanctified, but you were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and in the Spirit of our God.”-  I Corinthians 6:11(NASB)

“But when the kindness of God our Savior and His love for mankind appeared, He saved us, not on the basis of deeds which we have done in righteousness, but according to His mercy, by the washing of regeneration and renewing by the Holy Spirit, whom He poured out upon us richly through Jesus Christ our Savior, so that being justified by His grace we would be made heirs according to the hope of eternal life.” – Titus 3:4-7

It isn’t magic, it is love and sacrifice. And if you are discouraged because of those layers of grime, scum, dirt and entirely gross sinful things from years past, take heart! Like Charles Spurgeon you can say:

 “I have a great need for Christ and I have a Great Christ for my need.”

My Cup Runneth Over...But with what?

Have you ever heard the story of the old farmer and his son? The farmer had worked in the fields for many years. One day his horse ran away. When the neighbors heard the news, they came to find out what happened. I don’t know if they were genuinely concerned or just curious. They wanted to comfort the farmer and said, "Such bad luck,” The farmer replied, "Who knows; we shall see."  

The next morning, the horse returned, bringing with him three other wild horses. The neighbors again heard the news (I don’t even think they learned about this through Facebook or Twitter but they came fast!). "How wonderful," the neighbors said. "Who knows; we shall see." once again replied the old man.

The day after, the farmer’s son tried to ride one of the wild horses. He was thrown from the horse and broke his leg. The neighbors came over again to offer their sympathy on their seemingly continuing bad luck. What do you think the farmer replied? You are correct! He replied, "Who knows; we shall see."

A few days later, military officials came to the village to draft young men into the army. Since the son's leg was broken, the son was not drafted. The neighbors attempted to celebrate with the farmer given how things turned out. The response? "Who knows; we shall see." said the farmer.

When we’ve had our fill of life circumstances, we are usually quick to assume they are either blessings or trials. At least I do. Even in the old “is the glass half full or half empty?” question, we are tasked with making the decision one way or another. What would happen if instead we replied, “Who knows; we shall see.”? What would happen if we allowed some time to determine God’s response to a particular situation and for Him to let us know His will throughout it?

As I think of the neighbors’ well-meaning assumptions about the various circumstances the farmer and his son endured, I think about how I assume blessings or trials on the “cups” of which other people must partake. This is especially true when thinking about the life paths of my own children and the decisions they must make. As I observe their “cup”, full of opportunity and blessing, I often ignore that to them, the cup is full of unknowns and bittersweet options. Their “cups runneth over” but I, even as a mom, cannot say with certainty with what.

I may be thinking their experience should be like David’s in Psalm 23:5 when David’s cup of blessings and good things overflows, when in their reality, the experience is more like Jesus’ experience asking the Father “if it be possible, let this cup pass from Me” like we see in Matthew 26:39 and Luke 22:42.

I am learning that I don’t always know best, but we can have assurance that “in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose” (Romans 8:28 NIV). I am also confident that, no matter what the cup is filled with, as we remain in God’s will He is faithful in providing the best options and outcomes, so that we can endure any challenge (my paraphrase of I Corinthians 10:13).

In the midst of any situation, I can say outwardly “Who knows; we shall see?”  Inwardly however, I can stand confident knowing He already knows and He has the best solution with our best interest in mind.

Putting Away Childish Things

Some years ago, a friend of mine gave me some bright and colorful plush toy spider monkeys. They were white with bright pink or bright purple. I thought they were super cute and, since they had long arms, I promptly got on my bed, on my tippy toes and hung all three of them on my ceiling fan because, that is what a mid-30s woman does with plush toy monkeys. It seemed a reasonable way to display them.

I quite enjoyed turning on the ceiling fan and watching them become flying monkeys! I would repeat this process multiple times a day. I reasoned that we can all be like children from time to time especially when you don’t share your room with another adult.  I had these monkeys (and followed my fun process) for about two years, then circumstances changed.

It was a good change. It was a fantastic change! It was even better than watching plush toy spider monkeys flying off my ceiling fan. It was love…a marriage proposal…a wedding…and moving.

I realized that the monkeys should not go with me when I married and moved in with my husband. For some reason, it seemed silly to take them with me since a) I don’t have small children, b) we wouldn’t have a ceiling fan, and c) I was pretty sure my husband would not appreciate them as much as I did. I can be perceptive like that. Because of my greater love for my husband than the fascination I had with these monkeys, I gave them to the friend who gave them to me. That seemed reasonable since, by this time, said friend had a toddler. A toddler would appreciate these monkeys for sure.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about how proud I was with myself for being able to give up my monkeys. It was a process for me to be okay with giving them up. One would think it should have been an obvious and easy decision but for me, it was a struggle as I did not want to feel as if I was “giving up who I am”. I was determined I wouldn’t do this for anyone, no matter how much I loved them. Yet because of love, this particular decision was easy.

More recently, I have also been thinking about other childish things I have been very unwilling to give up or how in many ways, I have been unwilling to mature. I have stubbornly said to myself “I am not giving up who I am” no matter how much I love someone and with that thought, I realized how very shallow my love is for others.

1 Corinthians 13 is knowns as “The Love Chapter”. It is often read at weddings. Because of its (in my opinion) overuse, I had developed a disdain for this chapter. I have rolled my eyes often when I’ve heard it. I forbade the officiant of our wedding to even think of quoting from this chapter. I now believe that, deep inside, I felt “called out” every time I heard it. Listening to this chapter reminds me how little I know how to love and how unlovable and unreasonable I can be.

Most days, I can be eloquent, knowledgeable, unwavering, hard-working, and generous. On those same days I can be inpatient, envious, arrogant, egocentric, rude, and/or easily offended. Many days I don’t want to think the best in people, not hoping for the best in circumstances or motives, especially relating to those I love. Certainly I don’t feel like enduring their shortcomings. And, because of my lack of true love for them, in my mind, they seem to return the favor.

Not “giving up who I am” often translates for me as an innate ability to hold grudges. The Hooligans have often told me I can hold a grudge like nobody’s business. I have been proud of that as if I received a medal.

This particular trait is in stark contrast with 1 Corinthians 13. This is probably another reason I have not appreciated this chapter as much as I should. “…bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things” in verse seven has been particularly challenging lately. It has challenged me to grow up. It is my challenge to continually put away the childish (self-centered) things that keep me from loving like Him. Monkeys are cute unless they are slinging vile at you! My grudge-holding abilities are like that. It’s not attractive.

In contrast to how I am, He suffers long and is kind; He does not envy. Never has He sought things for Himself and no matter how I behave, He is never provoked to despise me. He thinks great plans for me, and doesn’t quite like when I am unjust. When I am honest with myself and with Him, He rejoices! He bears all with me, believes in me, provides hope, and endures with me.

“Giving up who I am” – giving up childish things - provides the room so that I can be like Him not in part, but entirely and the true version of who I should be.

No monkeying around necessary or unreasonably holding grudges for that matter.

The Castle

When My Little Chicken was just that (about four years old), he wanted a medieval castle more than anything in the world, including tomatoes. It should almost go without saying, but I’ll say it anyway, since I’ve been known from time to time to state the obvious, that every four year old little boy wanted the particular castle for Christmas, except I didn’t know it at the time. I love My Little Chicken a lot and so there was nothing that I wanted to give him more than that castle.

I’m typically a planner (you can refer to http://pehrtinent.blogspot.com/2011/06/planny-planny.html) for an example) but somehow, I underestimated what it would take to find one of these castles. Surely, I thought, “how hard could it be”! From about the beginning of November to December 24th I searched high, I searched low, I searched nigh, I searched all…and nothing. Now, this is before the interwebs so shopping online was not possible which is probably a good thing since I would have had to give my right arm to the online bid poster for this castle.

I got tired of driving around various interstates during the winter in the Northeast to find this castle. Oh, did I mention I was six months along with Muscles? Then, I got smart! On Christmas Eve, I began calling all the stores in the immediate proximity of my workplace to see if they had the castle. Voila, I found one and begged the clerk to “hold it for me” promising that I would be there right away. She said she would hold it 15 minutes. I frantically wobbled to my supervisor and asked if I could leave to get this castle (I don’t think I spoke intelligibly but we’d worked together long enough for him to know “how I get” plus, who messes with a pregnant woman, right???).

It was snowing A LOT this day and I remember driving as fast as I could and as cautiously as I could to Caldor’s to get the castle…I arrived just in time to purchase the monstrosity. Now, I’m already short and VERY round. The box was about 3’ x. I don’t really know how I carried it to the car. I was successful and I just knew My Little Chicken would be thrilled with his gift.

My Little Chicken opened his gift on Christmas morning and played with it the whole day…then no more! I was pretty disgusted with him. He wanted that castle more than anything in the world including tomatoes. My Little Chicken LOVES tomatoes. How could he lose interest so quickly?

The answer lies in human nature, I imagine. We seem to constantly be chasing for the bigger, better, newer and not fully satisfied or content with the blessings we have. Now, he was only four and he has grown up to be a wonderful young man since then. But sometimes I think of how I am and how I perhaps haven’t grown up as much as I should and continue (sometimes) chasing after the wind and not appreciating the sacrifice of my Heavenly Father who searches high, searches low, searches nigh; searches for all.

God sent His Son – Christmas reminds us of this. Additionally, He, the Son, after completing His task here on earth, went to prepare a place for us so that where He is, we can also be. He’s prepared the best “castles” ever for us and I don’t think we’ll bore quickly of them. More importantly, though, we should want to be in His presence more than longing for the castle…I guess we should want Him as much as My Little Chicken likes tomatoes :-).

Getting it Straight

I shall have a Sophia Petrillo channeling moment – picture this, February 8, 2012. Southeast, United States. It is my birthday. I am opening presents at Triple M’s house (soon to be “our” house). On this day, he has already sent a gorgeous flower arrangement with a little teddy bear hanging from the vase to my job. Totally adorable! I am spoiled, I know. He wanted me to open the presents before we went out for my birthday dinner. I first opened the cards. His parents sent me a card that made me boo hoo in a good way, and then I opened his card. That was followed by hugs for him.

The first present I opened was purportedly from “The Hooligans” I say purportedly because they’ve never, ever purchased a birthday present for me previously and they have no money. It was a beautiful metal picture frame with the word “LOVE” above the actual frame and one of my favorite pictures of Triple M and me in it! This is now safely placed above my credenza at work. Great! Fantastic! The second present was a…flat iron.

Now, don’t go thinking, “A flat iron. What kind of present is a flat iron?” I actually asked for a flat iron. Just the day before, I had forwarded a Groupon offer for a specific flat iron at a great price to Triple M for a “hint, hint”. However, I neglected to specifically specify that I wanted that specific one and only that one. The look on my face was not one of joy or delight, I am sure, and for that, I am sorry.

I inspected the flat iron, as I knew he put a lot of effort into purchasing this for me. He didn’t grow up with sisters and he shaves his head so this flat iron arena is all new for him. I would imagine he has not visited that section of the store in many, many years, if ever. So for that, kudos, Triple M! As I inspected the iron I realized it has the round edging instead of squared!!! Why the excitement? Well, I’d been wanting a 1” curling iron and I knew this would do the trick! I tried it this morning, and VOILA!

I don’t know that there is a great lesson or moral to this story except perhaps to specifically specify what you want and/or need if you want to keep it straight! I’ll keep that in mind in the future…the future that continues…forever!

Liberated

I’ve been lied to! I’ve been lied to for a very long time. It took me an equally long time to realize I’ve been deceived. Marvel, D.C., Grimm…, shame y’all, and shame on me for being so gullible. It’s a good thing Hollywood set me straight. Phew! It would have been a sad state of affairs had the lie not been made known.

In various fairytales (insert your favorite right here; I actually loathe the “Knight in Shining Armor ones”) or in comic books (I was quite fond of the Batman myself until I realized I’d been duped), the hero of the story wears a uniform which consists of some sort of spandex fabric and a cape. I know there are some that don’t have the cape and perhaps others with some armor or something but since I am neither a 12 year old boy nor a fan of The Big Bang Theory, I am no expert in such matters. However, as insightful black and white Hollywood movies point out, heroes are dressed in trench overcoats and fedora hats. What say you? I am mistaken? I don’t think so!

In a reverse sort of classic movie scene (“of all the joints in all the world, he had to walk into mine”) this plays out. I say “reverse” because it’s typically the dame that’s doing the walking and the gentleman that’s doing the talking. In my story, the dame (yours truly) was minding her own business when he walked in. I’ve recounted this before (http://pehrtinent.blogspot.com/2011/04/bats-pecan-swirls-and-laundry-rooms.html) so I won’t repeat myself. I’ve been thinking lately how he has liberated parts of me just like that hero would untie the ropes off the railroad tracks or catch the damsel as she falls off some building. Usually, the “dame” has gotten HERSELF in trouble. I’ll admit, this is the same for me. He doesn’t wear spandex and capes, thankfully. I tell you, THAT would make for a rather interesting blog. He does wear fedoras…and overcoats.

That’s why I say Hollywood got it right. Or maybe it’s the part that real men open doors and say thank you. Perhaps it’s the part that real men let their affections be known, though usually privately. I probably have to take back the “Hollywood” as a whole but maybe keep the Old black and white Hollywood. There are things that are black and white such as decency and honesty; hard work and compassion. It’s exceptionally freeing to be liberated to share and act with someone on these.

So, out of all the joints in all the world, I am thankful he did indeed walk into “mine”.

Didn’t know it was You

There’s a line in the song “Sweet Little Jesus Boy” that has been playing over and over in my head. Now, so that we are clear, my head only plays the Mahalia Jackson version. I feel it’s imperative for you to be aware of this detail. The single line is “We didn’t know it was You”.

This brought me back to a time when I had all four of The Hooligans at home. This particular year would be a rough Christmas as I was only working 30 hours per week making about $12 per hour with no other income or assistance. I believe their ages were 4, 6, 11, and 13. Those were the best of times and the worst of times. I’m sorry that I quoted Dickens but it fits.

One of the better parts of that period was my developing friendship with Wistful. Wistful and I met through mutual friends coordinating an event earlier that spring. We continued getting together and were becoming pretty good friends. She knew of my struggles and how sad it made me that I couldn’t “do” for my boys that Christmas. This was the same year that she coordinated a trip to The Biltmore and had “sponsors” pay for our tickets. There’s another wonderful story associated with that trip and Cinci, but we’ll save that one for another time.

Hanging on my door when we got back was a bag. This was very curious because I lived in the boonies at the time. It was very odd. When I opened it, I was very surprised. The bag contained a Christmas card, and within it a very generous gift card! When you think “generous” think a few hundred dollars generous. The card was unsigned and anonymous. I immediately thought it was from my home church.

A day or two later Wistful came over to help decorate the tree I purchased with said gift card and I kept going on and on…and on…and on about how thankful I was that my church family (according to me) thought enough to help me in this way. I also unashamedly and unequivocally, rambled on about how the young adult group we were a part of (in a different church) could not possibly understand my struggles as a single mom but thank goodness for my home church. This went on probably about ten minutes and Wistful could not take it anymore! She finally said, “Look, I wanted it to be a secret but since you keep going on…and on…and on…about how your ‘church family’ understands and loves you so much, you need to know it was from us – the young adult group”. (Disclaimer – I don’t remember the exact words as I was very embarrassed so, Wistful, feel free to correct as needed). All I could say was, "I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was you".

During Christmas time, I believe my story has variations in others’ lives. We forget whom it is supposed to be about and we forget whom it is that provides for such merry. John 1:10 (ESV) says, “He was in the world, and the world was made through him, yet the world did not know him.” I’d spent countless hours with this group and I did not know them either! I didn’t realize they understood and loved us enough to be so gracious. The Good News Version of John 1:16 summarizes this point well as it relates to Jesus – "Out of the fullness of his grace he has blessed us all, giving us one blessing after another".

I am thankful that Wistful was gracious enough to forgive my ignorance and I even more thankful that "out of His fullness (abundance) we have all received [all had a share and we were all supplied with] one grace after another and spiritual blessing upon spiritual blessing and even favor upon favor and gift [heaped] upon gift". John 1:16, Amplified version.

Merry Christmas!

Excess

Excess can be defined as “more than or above what is necessary, usual, or specified; extra or superabundance”. I really like “superabundance” mostly because I really like the word “super”. I also really like “quotation marks”.

The words excess, and its cousin superabundance, articulate well how blessed I feel and the blessings I’ve experienced God share with me this year. The more I think about them, the more I think about how undeserving I am and how Wonderful He is! It’s a great place to be.

The One that says, “I have come that they may have life, and that they may have it more abundantly.” (John 10:10) and “who is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask” (Ephesians 3:20) has superabundantly proved it. Although I wonder, if I’ve just been paying more attention.

This year, though full of challenges professionally, and some economic uncertainties, has been abundantly and exceedingly filled with greatness. Cinci is the healthiest he’s been in years, Muscles continues to grow into an honorable young man, The Original Hooligans have made more appearances than usual, true friends are constant though not abounding, and I am loved beyond imagination.

Most of all, I understand more fully why “there is no law” against certain things. There is no excess when it comes to love, joy, peace, longsuffering, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control (Galatians 5:22-23). I want to live that superabundantly. It is the season when it’s better to give than to receive after all. However, I pray this, being filled by the Spirit, is not seasonal but always excessively obvious in me.

Beholding

The following is a quote on the awesome turquoise free “business” cards I have – “Everything has beauty; not everyone sees it.” I wonder if we look long enough, intently enough to catch the glimpses of beauty all around us.

I remember when The Original Hooligans and The Hooligans were babies. I would stare into their precious faces and felt that their whole beings were beautiful by design because their Designer made them so. I saw art and uniqueness in their eyes, their little noses (some smaller than others), and the way their brain works. It seemed to me, there would be no time that they would be unlovely to this mom…and there has not been! I still see the art in them and I still believe they were designed specifically to be them.

Why is it that I can see the art in them but question the art and design in me? Oh, I very well know. It’s because instead of looking at the Designer, as I did in my children’s faces, I am looking only at me. I thought about this recently because I am blessed with people that see past the “me” in me but must see me through Him. I can think of no other reason why I should be unconditionally loved. It’s a beautiful thing to feel loved in that way.

Behold!, 1 John 3:1 reminds us that God Himself loves us and sees us this way! “Behold what manner of love the Father has bestowed on us, that we should be called children of God!” Yet, even though God and His Beauty is all around us, not everyone sees Him.

There’s another lovely passage I like that says, “...Christ is our example. By beholding Him we are to be changed into His image, from glory to glory, from character to character. This is our work. God help us rightly represent the Savior to the world." –1SM 172 (RH Aug. 13, 1901).

Therefore, my challenge is to choose to behold the beauty and art in each other, but most of all, to behold the Artist and Designer. He loves us in such a manner as to bestow the best of a Fantastic Father!

Built to Last

One of my favorite parables Jesus told was the parable of the men that wanted to live by the sea. We all know that in real estate it’s all about – location, location, location. Beachfront homes are fun even though insurance tends to be very expensive. You can read about it in Matthew 7:24-27.

There is also a cute children’s song about this very thing. I’ve abbreviated it for your enjoyment – “The wise man built his house upon the rock…And the rain came tumbling down…Oh, the rain came down. And the floods came up…And the wise man's house stood firm. The foolish man built his house upon the sand…And the rain came tumbling down. Oh, the rain came down. And the floods came up…And the foolish man's house went "splat!...”

I am continually amazed at how God, through such seemingly simple yet direct lessons, reminds us of what makes things, in this case, a building, lasting. The principle, though, can be applied to more than must building. I admit, however, that all this came to mind while I was hanging up my clothes yesterday.

The Hooligans and I moved to a rental this past summer. We’ve had to adapt to very different sleeping and space arrangements than any of us were previously used to experiencing. The new arrangements caused me to take a bedroom without a closet! I had a HUGE walk-in closet in my old house. Now, I would not only have to share the one bathroom with two teenage boys (I must give them kudos because they’ve been very cognizant of how important it is for them to keep the bathroom in reasonably decent and clean condition) but I had no place to hang up my clothes. In the greater scheme of life, this is minor, but you just don’t know the number of dresses I own! Much like a great superhero came Triple M to the rescue.

Triple M offered to put of a closet rod with brackets. Now, we had only been dating a few months and I was not 100% confident that I would like this little project. I was already upset I did not have a closet and I was concerned that this would turn out badly. In hindsight, I should have known better. INTJ males are not known for doing things 99.9% -- they tend to do things 100%+!

We went shopping for the supplies and he came over with all the things needed and some power tools. It was cute. I have to tell you, this is the fanciest exposed closet I have ever seen. I was apprehensive about loading up all the clothes but it held up. This is how Triple M builds things. He builds them with care and he builds them to last.

I am blessed that his “building” abilities don’t stop there. He is proactively helpful, and considerate. He is the kind of person that you can call in an emergency and have the confidence he can help you. He puts us first (The Hooligans and me) more than he should most times, and speaks the truths that need to be spoken in love most of the time (he’s human, after all). He puts God first and others right after. I’ve seen him be selfless beyond need. All of that reminds me of the rest of that children’s song – “So, build your house on the Lord Jesus Christ... And the blessings will come down. Oh, the blessings come down as your prayers go up…So build your house on the Lord Jesus Christ.”

I wonder if the beachfront houses had closets???

Cornucopia

Oh, the “horn of plenty”! It’s such a beautiful reminder of all that is good. It’s sort of a wonderfully filled cannoli; the kind with enough sugar crystals to make your mouth do a happy dance if mouths could dance. Or perhaps a reminder of Bugles stuffed with cream cheese. It’s overflowing with plenty. The “plenty” though for some people is not as beautiful or good as the “plenty for others…or so it seems.

I don’t know if your life is like mine – a life where in the last year you’ve experienced losses and wins, pain and enjoyment, disappointments and unexpected surprises, broken relationships and loving relationships, mental breakdowns and sanity, misfortune and blessings. I will guess that it is. There has been “plenty” of all the aforementioned filling my life this year. It’s been a cornucopia filled with all of life’s experiences that have somehow made me stronger and my life even more beautiful overall.

Since God’s “no” has manifested as “No, because I want something better for you” I have no logical reason to complain. Have I always liked it? No, I have not. In addition, I’ve told Him as much! Thankfully, He is very patient with me and has a great sense of humor. I am blessed with human relationships that mirror those qualities as well.

In response to such a beautiful life I lead with wonderful adventures awaiting and exceptional people to share it with, you know, like the cream of the cannoli, I choose to be grateful hopefully not just this Thanksgiving season but also every day.

Fill someone’s life with goodness today. It makes it sweeter.

Trees

I’ve recently become enthralled with the concept of specific trees as specific memorials for specific events. You might remember that I like things in triplicate so I had mention that specifically.

I’ve been thinking about a picture of Triple M and me…one where we look like total tree huggers and not because we are environmentalists in any way, shape or form, but because we were literally hugging a tree in his back yard as his right hand reached for my left hand. Aww. That sounds so beautiful. What made the event even more special was that I earlier spilled some coconut milk (seed from a tree…did you like that reference) on my T-shirt at an awkward angle above the waist while making piña coladas. Bama Girl did not think they were special enough. I got her back though. That’s another story. There is something romantic, even redeeming about trees.

The first tree that comes to mind is the tree of knowledge of good and evil as depicted in Genesis (first book of the Christian Bible). God is so Wonderful and He was willing to share everything, well, almost. He asked, ever so politely, I might add, for Adam and Eve to eat from everything else except that tree because it would not be good for them. I will venture to say most of you know the story but if not, I invite you to read Genesis Chapters one through at least four to get the full scoop. Somehow, even though I am sure the Garden of Eden was like, well, Eden or Paradise. Eve was fooled into thinking 99.9% wasn’t enough. She wanted that 0.01%. I don’t understand that. Regardless, even in the “hey, I’ve prepared a megabizzillion wonderful goodies for you from which you can feast…just don’t touch this one, or even go near it” invitation to all things wonderful, Eve chose stupidly.

The next tree I am reminded of is a tree in transition. This tree became a cross. It was transformed into a redemptive tool for you and me. As Chris Rice wrote from Jesus’ point of view, “Now I can never forget how much you mean to me. 'Cause I will always remember whenever I see. Where I carved your name into my tree. Where I wrapped my heart around your name. Then I took your arrow through my heart…Just to say, ‘I love you’. ‘I really love you’.”

The last tree that comprises my enthrallment is the tree from the song “Don’t sit under the apple tree…” There is something very romantic about this song. I must admit that I thought the spirit and feeling of that song would be my experience with Triple M when we went apple picking. I’d pictured tall apple trees and small ladders leading to plentiful fruit filled trees. I even got a flannel shirt, the kind with the snaps for the outing.

I thought Triple M and I would skip along and he would say, “Don’t sit under the apple tree with anyone else but me”, and we would sit under the tree. At that very moment, he would take a bite out of a beautiful apple, and I would tilt my head, giggle, and respond, “I won’t sit under the apple tree with anyone else but you…” I was deceived by Groupon. And somewhere along the way I became dissatisfied with my 99.9% everyday experience with him, and wanted that 0.01%. We did get our picture taken…while standing up. It turned out to be one of my favorite M & M pictures.

I think back now and see how foolish it is to search for that 0.01% of what can never be instead of being filled with joy for the 99.9% that is – the reaching out in hands and heart to wrap me in the love of all things wonderful. I’ll be deceived no more.

The Buried Life

I like jars (oh, and he likes lemonade in case you have forgotten). I like jars so much that I repurpose them. I repurpose just about any glass jar type out there. So far, I’ve repurposed a jar to the following themes: snowmen, fishing, soccer, musical notes, birds, and various names and/or initials. Sometimes I wonder if this is just silly and possibly dangerous.

The times I specifically wonder are when I am watching one of those “hoarding” shows. For some reason I cannot fully understand, I get concerned I will end up with 17,295 jars in my 800 sq. ft. rental with every intent in the world to repurpose as a gift for someone…because we all know how many people MUST be lining up to receive a jar from me!

I’ve watched this show semi-regularly for about a year. I am always both disturbed and disheartened by the plight of the sufferer or “hoarder” on the show. There is almost always a defining moment that transformed some sort of collection activity to an obsession and usually tied in with severe and traumatic loss of a loved one. I’ve been thinking about defining moments and how they can (but don’t have to) overwhelm us or bury us in different ways. I’ve also been thinking about how our own actions further deepen the depth of our condition.

There are some specific ways we bury our life unnecessarily. I’ve listed some below but I bet we can come up with numerous others.

• We bury ourselves with worry
• We bury ourselves with our destructive behavior
• We bury ourselves with isolation
• We bury ourselves with our selves and our selfish desires
• We bury ourselves in our work

It seems to me that the more I let myself be buried by those things I listed above, the less likely I am to acknowledge the wonderful people around me that motivate me to make those cutesy jars to begin with! In addition, I marvel at the fact that Jesus likes to think of us as jars. 2 Corinthians 4:7 says that “But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us.” (ESV).

This is the buried life we should live – to know that within each of us is treasure, even though sometimes it seems hidden. The power of God reveals it, if we let Him. The only kind of “buried life” I want to live is the one I chose when I decided to follow Jesus…

Romans 6:4: We were buried therefore with Him by baptism into death, in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life. (ESV)

And so we can walk in newness of life instead of a buried life! I like that; I like that a lot! I invite you along and hey, I might even make you a jar! I will fill yours up with jellybeans...

Furiously Fasting for Donuts

(Warning: may not be suitable for those that have cravings of the circular sweet and delightfully cakey kind)

Those close to me can tell you I typically prefer green juice to sweets any day. Yes, I am weird like that and perfectly okay with it. There is something magical about this green beverage with its sprouts, kiwi, broccoli, green apples, celery, lime…As I used to tell the Original Hooligans and The Hooligans when they were small – “Yummy, yummy in my tummy”. Every once in a while, however, and as Muscles sometimes says, I get a hankering for something sweet. This past Saturday night, I got a hankering for a Krispy Kreme chocolate cake donut. Lucky for me, the closest Krispy Kreme is only a few miles from my house and on the way to and from Triple M’s house. Unluckily for my thighs, the closest Krispy Kreme is only a few miles from my house and on the way to and from Triple M’s house.

For those of you not familiar with Krispy Kreme donuts, they are like a guilty pleasure with glaze. Now, it’s amusing that my guilty pleasure (S-E-X and the get out of her my people) showcased this on one of their episodes. I can’t go into the episode here because then this will turn from G, or possibly PG to not so PG quickly. My favorite donut is the chocolate cake donut, with glaze, of course.

As I normally do on Saturday evenings, I was spending some much needed quality time with my favorite super hero, Triple M. I think Triple M would agree that I don’t ask for a lot. I am neither neurotic in my requests nor demanding. Somehow, though, when I do ask for something, my timing is impeccably inappropriate. It’s a gift; what can I say.

On the way to my house from Triple M’s house (by the way, his house is always appropriately impeccable), I saw the light! I literally saw the light…of the Krispy Kreme storefront all lit up! I asked if I could pretty please with wonderful glaze on top have a chocolate cake donut. “Are you sure? It’s so packed”, announced Triple M. Now, “Are you sure?” in Triple M dialect means, “I love you but I really would rather listen to Sara Groves than pull into a ridiculously packed small parking lot on a Saturday night…” I very whiningly said we didn’t have to but what a nice opportunity it would be if we did then he could teach me how to make a left turn on this busy complicated street (batting my dark chocolate brown eyes). I don’t ask for a lot, so to the turning lane he goes.

From this moment on, words cannot eloquently explain what happened next so you have to visualize it in terms of awesome cars like a Charger a la Fast and the Furious. He gets in the left turn lane with another car approaching head on to turn the opposite way. Triple M then moves over rather quickly (think my nails on the dashboard by now) and back around that car to make a left turn. He turns…almost unto vehicles leaving or at least attempting to leave the parking lot. Triple M tries to go through the drive-through and then rethinks this when there are literally about ten cars ahead of us…no room to park either. What happens next, is kind of a blur but it involves him backing out while a car is pulling in the lot behind us, turning around to turn left across three lanes of traffic. He did it by zig zagging between a few cars then says, “that’s how you turn left here…”

I was speechless, which was a good thing because from the looks of my Racer, he was in no mood to, well, for anything! We drove the rest of the few miles to my place without any sort of donut, not even a sprinkled one (insert sad face here). Triple M did offer to stop at a convenience store and get a donut, but you know, it’s just not the same. And that’s how I ended up fasting for a donut on a Saturday night.

Don’t fret friend! The story has a happy ending. We stopped by Krispy Kreme on the way to his house on Sunday afternoon. You didn’t think my super hero would fail me, did you? He never does. It’s always a circular way to a sweet delightful ending.

Jr.-like salvation (not the department store kind)

If you asked me my favorite ages in children, I would likely say the “tween” years (10-13) followed by two to three year olds and then teenagers overall. I am not certain what this says about my mind’s stability, but I can tell you that there are, in my opinion, no other more crucial times in a child’s life than during those years and in my opinion, in that order. We all know that I received my training in the school of “A Wing and a Prayer” so I must be 100% correct. That and spending the majority of my life raising children and continuing on, as Maureen says, to do so.

There is a certain je ne c'est quoi (I used that term just to try to impress Muscles) about pre-teen children that both attracts and eludes. They have developed their own little selves, are still playful, and are trying to figure out who they want to become, or even whom to pattern after. It’s such a formative time. Those of us that are blessed and responsible to contribute to their edification have a high calling and task ahead.

For many years, I taught the 10 to 13 year old age group at church. I cannot begin to tell you how AWESOME this experience was for me. In fact, I miss it, and miss it a lot. The kids were so inquisitive and attentive. I remember distinctly that I learned as much from them as I tried to share. If I had to pick the one thing I liked most about them was that they are exceptional readers of genuine communication versus canned attempts; they are great doo doo detectors.

If they asked a question about God, they didn’t want “textbook” answers. They wanted experiential answers. They wanted to know what it meant to “me” and why it should mean something to them. Oh, don’t get me wrong, my little group wanted to prove it with their Bibles but wanted to know how to apply and why they should even try to apply it to their lives.

Another reason they are my favorite age group is of all the groups, they are the most real in their skin and in their actions. Life is awkward. Life is always changing and is unscripted. They answer abruptly (the way I sometimes want to), they feel deeply (the way we all should), and they acknowledge they don’t really know what’s going on! I heartily believe that at the core and center of who we are, we are perennial seventh graders waiting for the braces to come off and hit the growth spurt!

I know it’s not always appropriate to be like a seventh grader (just like it’s not appropriate to continue shopping in the Jr.’s department past the age of 22 per Stacey and Clinton from What Not to Wear). But when it comes to salvation, I feel pretty certain that Jesus wants us to bring our awkwardness and grievances of unfairness to Him, just like Juniors tend to verbalize it. I think the kids get the excellent doo doo detection skills from Him! I am also certain He calls some of us to help these “kids” develop the script of their life. That’s even more fun than hitting the mall…

The Shedding Sweater

As I was removing lint from my awesome shrug/bolero style jacket, my mind’s eye went back to a bittersweet time in my life when the Original Hooligans and The Hooligans all lived with me and I worked with my sweet friend “Ageless”.

I’ve decided to name her Ageless for the following reasons:

• In an un-annoying way, she never seems to physically age. She looks beautiful even though years keep passing. They seem to pass her by.
• She is a classic and wonderful dresser! She is always trendy without being inappropriate. 
• Her core values transcend societal norms. She is a great mom and has been together with the same man for more than half her life. Some even dub her “Wonder Woman”. I agree
• No matter how much time passes between our “visits”, she remains a true friend; really more like a sister that lives across the country.

Ageless and I worked together almost ten years ago. We worked in a small office and became good friends. I think she won me over with her exceptional sweet tea and cheese ball. Those were great days…when she brought sweet tea and cheese balls. I was also chunkier. I’m not saying it was her fault or anything but…

We had little traditions like getting sweet tea (for her) and a Diet Coke with lemon and no ice (for me). I also would make smoothies for us from time to time. You should ask her sometime about the infamous “wheat germ” smoothie. That was something. I digress though.

Ageless listened to me throughout some of the worst years of my life. She listened more than she offered opinions although I know sometimes she wished she could shake some sense into me to take control of those things that I could control. Still, she always showed love and understanding, even when she wanted to intervene violently on my behalf.

I specifically remember the time that my home was robbed. It was a very curious event. The “robber(s)” entered with a key and only took all of my belongings including all my clothes, makeup, and those feminine products that are advertised with women only wearing white clothes. The “robber(s)” also took my journals that I had since I was a teenager which were hidden behind several other books. It was an interesting robbery. The police were pretty sure they knew who burglarized my home since none of the children’s belongings were taken, but could never prove it. Somehow, some things are never this person’s fault!

The next day, I went to work with the same exact clothes I had on the day before. Now, I am not a spiffy dresser like Ageless but she knew something was wrong. I shared my tale of nakedness and such and I could tell she once again wanted to intervene violently on my behalf. She is the kind of friend that suffers with you. She’s precious. Somewhere along the way, another coworker ran out and bought me a black sweater. It was lovely except for one thing – it shed a lot. For the next few days, I wore this sweater and left a trail of little black lint balls everywhere I went in the office. Thankfully for the vacuum cleaner, the insurance check came in and I could replace my clothes. Guess who agreed to go with me to the mall? Of course Ageless did! I think she did a better job than Stacey and Clinton on “What Not to Wear”.

It meant so much to me that she would take the time to do this for and with me. During this rough patch, her support and compassion helped me shed more than just that sweater. She helped me shed some negative thoughts and she helped me shed light on the person I really am. She even helped me shed my circumstances and take charge of the things I can control.

I can honestly attribute some of the successes I’ve enjoyed to her support and friendship. She helped me shed my shell of insecurity and embrace new ways to view and display myself without leaving a trail of little black anything behind.