Set my heart at ease...

Remember that last long post? The one about nostalgia? Well, put on your rose-colored glasses cause this post is full of it. (nostalgia. not full of it... oh never mind.)

We were in Birmingham this weekend. The husband came for Upward training, and I just came to tag along. To keep him company. To have a much needed escape. To "renew fond memories." This was most definitely a Sentimental Journey. We met the summer before he moved to Birmingham to begin seminary. Then I moved down to attend school.

We lived there while we were engaged and scrambling to simultaneously plan a wedding and write long, boring papers (or in my case, long boring units about addition or Eric Carle).

We lived there for the first 2 1/2 years of our marriage.

We were a part of some of our favorite (and least favorite) church families there.

I endured those torturous first years of teaching there (my school was wonderful- I was just, you know, green. And not in a compost & bamboo flip flops good kind of way...) and he got his feet wet in real ministry.

We adopted Al Dog there- when we just went in the pet store to get fish food. (We're not at all the impulse buy types... ha!) A little less than a year later, someone brought a litter of Siamese kittens to school, and we added Keaton to our family too.

The first seven months of my pregnancy with Big Sister were there- those precious, wonder-filled experiences of meeting our first child.

We spent a little time, when he was not in session, catching up with this town we once called home. A lot has changed. And not just the restaurants that have closed or the new Whole Foods or the completely rerouted interchange where we used to get on I-459.

For one, many of our friends have moved on. John likened this trip to revisiting your college campus. Some of the buildings look the same, but there are small changes to be noticed everywhere, and very few familiar faces.

But looking around at all that has changed around us since our last visit caused me to notice what is perhaps the biggest change of all: us.

It has been a little more than 7 years since I moved down to Birmingham. I was living alone for the first time in my life (at a place we just found out is now known in the area for a giant Mexican drug cartel murder, no less!). John and I were students- we had crazy schedules including school, part-time church jobs, and lots of adventures. We were young & in young love. It really was a magical time.

It is easy for an idealist like me to get caught up in the idea of how life used to be there. To remember when we found the house we rented when we got married, the one within walking distance of the library and post office and Whistle Stop Cafe. To sigh when remembering strolling with a much younger Al Dog around Samford's campus or one of the lakes near my apartment. To think about how much time John and I spent together, even with those crazy student schedules...

Of course, there are realities that I remember too, if I allow myself to think hard enough. Some just a little less magical, some mundane, and some are downright harsh. There were days (and sometimes several of them in a row!) when we couldn't leave fast enough. But in some ways it's even nice to remember those. It's a reminder that we survived, even thrived, and came out better on the other side.

When I sat down to type this, I was ready to say that I loved our life together in Birmingham. I'm not sure that's the best way to say it anymore. I loved our life together, and I still love our life together. To use a trite stage analogy, Birmingham wasn't a player; it was only the backdrop.

The scenery has changed, some key characters have been added, and there has been some aging depth-adding for the leads, but the story continues. There are new plot twists and lots of adventure and even a few musical numbers, but it is our show. With an All-powerful Producer/Director, of course.

So yes, it has been fun to take this trip down memory lane. But when I think about Doris Day singing about her Sentimental Journey, I think she got part of it wrong (which is hard for me to say because I love me some Doris. Who doesn't?) My Sentimental Journey didn't lead me home. It reminded me with whom (and Whom) I've built a home. And how blessed I am to have them, no matter where I end up or what lies ahead.


I mean, it's just like Doris said, "Que sera, sera..." (You can't not reference this song in a post about Doris Day. It wouldn't be right...)

A little more conversation, a little less action...

I'm having a mini-retreat, shutting myself in the hotel room while hubby attends a conference and my mom and Aunt Lala keep my girls. I haven't been away since before Little Sister was born, but I really need a getaway. There are too many things to busy myself with at home, too many things demanding my attention. In my quest to fill all of the roles I've taken on in my life (mother, wife, homemaker, short-order cook, dog trainer chaser, kids worship leader, blogger, etc.) I've neglected an important one.

I'm going to try to focus on just being a Child of God. I'm going to try to be Mary and leave my Martha in the kitchen for a bit. I'd like to sit at the feet of Jesus.



And when his sessions are over, I'd like to sit at The Cheesecake Factory with my husband! See you in a few days...

The Good Old Days?

A friend of mine posted this hilarious (yet troubling) compilation of creepy vintage ads on her facebook page today. Never before have I nearly peed my pants laughing and wanted to hide my face in horror at the same time. Okay, maybe when I tried to watch 40 Year Old Virgin. (Did I just admit that? I'm getting a little too comfortable with this whole honesty thing... to be fair, it was the TBS version.)

Anyway... those ads, along with something I heard on Sunday, have got me thinking about "the good old days." Sunday night we had a community orchestra play at our church. Lately my ADD tendencies have been making it hard to sit for long sets of instrumental music, (something my music profs would just love to hear, I'm sure) but this was quite good. Except for the intros.

You know what I'm talking about. Band, orchestra and choir directors alike all feel the need to talk before their music. And I get that. I've introduced many a solo- explaining the significance, or the history, or whatever. But some people just take it too far. They tell you WAY too much information (I see that wry smile. You're the one who decided to read my blog. You chose to receive all of my TMI!) or they stammer through a long history involving lots of composers with horribly mispronounced German names. But this guy...

Well, he was introducing a section of the concert that was a tribute to Americana. And here is what he said: "How many of you remember when it was great to live in America?" after a confused mumbled affirmation from the audience, he then went on. "Those days will come again."

WHAT? If you don't have a problem with what this doodle-head said, let me share mine. It is three-fold:

1. Now, I am not the most patriotic person, but I think that sounds a little unsupportive of our country. But more than that, I think it sounds a little ridiculous. We have freedoms in our country that others can only long for: voting, worshiping, protesting, etc. etc. etc. We are also one of the wealthiest countries in terms of our Gross Domestic Product and our Per Capita Income. We have access to clean water. Most of us have more than enough food. We have access to medicine and doctors (while all around the world people are dying from things we can treat with a trip to CVS). We are not being driven from our homes or murdered because of our ethnicity or religious sect. We are not watching men (and boys) with automatic weapons walk past our homes, praying for the safety of our children. Women in our country are not routinely subject to female circumcision, or sold into sex slavery to pay off their families' insurmountable debt. I suppose this man was comparing present-day America with another time, but in the present, we are VERY fortunate to live where we live.
2. IF this guy was referring to the current president, he has made the assumption that everyone in the auditorium cast the same vote back in November that he did and was therefore disappointed with the outcome. Well, you know what happens when you assume...
3. IF he was not referring to the recent change in our country, I can only guess that maybe he was harkening back to the "good old days" like so many in the church like to do. The sweet, simpler times of the 1950s- when families ate dinner together. When you could leave your doors unlocked. When milk came to your door in cute little glass bottles. When TV shut off at night and never showed nudity or profanity or (gasp) music videos. AND when Sputnik launched and the irrational, overblown fear of communism had everyone, especially some guy named McCarthy, completely paranoid. When women were expected to fill a single, limited role in society. And when African American people couldn't sit with, eat with, share a water fountain with, or even pee near, white Americans. Seriously. I am going to make my own assumption here, but I would guess that none of the black audience members would really like to travel with you back to Mayberry, buddy. And frankly, when I think about it that way, neither would I.

See, I'm a fan of history. My home is decorated with a hodge podge of french country/primitive/eclectic hand-me-down stuff. I can spend hours in antique malls. I love reading about and studying different eras, especially in biographies. Some of my favorite places on earth are the ones that have such a tangible sense of history, you feel you can almost reach out & touch the spirits that once made them home (Shaker Village of Pleasant Hill and New Harmony, Indiana are just a few that come to mind). Nothing makes you feel more insignificant, yet at the same time, connected and filled with possibility, as standing where people have been standing for hundreds of years.

I'm also a very sentimental person. I get misty-eyed looking at old photo albums. I can spend hours talking about music from any given stage of my life. I keep everything. I might be extreme, but I think we all like to remember and cherish moments long since gone. We all like to think back to when things were simpler. But the truth is, our memories are probably the truly "simple" component. Hindsight may be 20/20, but nostalgia wears rose-colored glasses.

It's not necessarily a bad thing- it allows us to remember more good than bad things about lost loved ones, to be grateful for the unique experiences and people that shaped us into who we are today. It probably guards us from guilt and unneeded heartache- let's face it, if we really wanted to dredge up all the bad stuff everytime we felt a little nostalgic, we'd all need a lot more therapy. (Raise your hand if those ads alone are going to require an extra session!)

I'm not trying to dump a big fat reality-check into the middle of all of our fond memories. I'm just asking that we remember how far we've come. I'm hoping that we are thankful for today, not just longing for yesterday. I'm suggesting that there are sometimes reasons why those days will never come again. I'm encouraging us to get up & dance, rather than waste time lamenting on how the music has changed.

I'm asking for a little less introduction, and a little more song.

A different kind of Not Me Monday...

Who knows the heartache of having a baby who is sick before he is even born, wondering if she will ever even get to hold him and tell him how much she has prayed for him? Not me.

Who has been a faithful servant and messenger for God throughout her troubled pregnancy and the first few months of her miracle baby's life? Not me.

Who has shared her heart, and her sweet baby's story, with thousands of mommies on her blog? Not me.

And who has stayed up all night, terrified for her baby's yet-again failing health, trying to keep up hope and keep her followers updated? Not me. I can't imagine this kind of pain, or strength.

But MckMama has. And she & Stellan desperately need our prayers now, as he is en route to (or possibly already in) Boston for a last hope at helping heal his little heart and save his life. Join with me & thousands of others praying for them.




Here are some other bloggers currently lifting them up in prayer.

Song for Sunday: He watches me...

His Eye Is On The Sparrow
by Civilla D. Martin


Why should I feel discouraged, why should the shadows come,
Why should my heart be lonely, and long for heav’n and home,
When Jesus is my portion? My constant Friend is He:
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me;
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.

I sing because I’m happy, I sing because I’m free,
For His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.

“Let not your heart be troubled,” His tender word I hear,
And resting on His goodness, I lose my doubts and fears;
Though by the path He leadeth, but one step I may see;
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me;
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.

Whenever I am tempted, whenever clouds arise,
When songs give place to sighing, when hope within me dies,
I draw the closer to Him, from care He sets me free;
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me;
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.


"Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten by God. Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows." Luke 12:6-7


Keep praying for Stellan, things are not looking very good.

A green giveaway!

Check out this great contest, running until tomorrow night (7/27).

You can visit Baby Loving Mama and learn about being green. AND you can enter to win a $200 Patagonia gift card, furnished by The Juice.

Or you know, don't, so I have a better chance ;)

Aha!

An ear infection.

That is what has turned Little Sister from laid-back, loving little one to frustrated, frightening, ferocious... um... foo-foo head? (I ran out of f's for my attempt at alliteration. To be fair, though, foo-foo head is one of the few allowed and more commonly used expletives in our house. I know, I'm a dork!)

We spent almost two hours waiting to see the doctor, and it took him about two minutes to diagnose her and prescribe my favorite... antibiotics. Ick. And even though I've read this article by Dr. Greene enough to know better, I still squirted the pink stuff into her mouth last night.

The truth is, I don't know for sure what is causing her congestion and ear pain- my guess is the problems she has been having with dairy & soy- but I waited it out for a while to see if it was just a "summer cold" or something that needed to run its course. It did not, and my darling toddler has become, well, not-so-darling some of the time because she feels terrible.

How do I know she feels terrible? I can guess because yesterday, I felt terrible. My minor sinus congestion turned into full-fledged body-aching, head pounding, chills, swollen throat, etc. My wonderful husband handled things so I could get some rest and I slept for 12 hours (well, I never really sleep that long. I still woke up too many times to count, listening to the girls, the dogs, the creaks in the house, the list of things to do in my head, and so on...)

When I got up this morning I felt a lot better, though still not 100%. But if this is what poor Little Sister has been dealing with for weeks now, I can completely understand all the biting and crabbiness! I just want to give the poor babe some relief, as quickly as possible.

So, acknowledging that sometimes mothering is choosing the lesser of two evils, pink stuff it is.



PS- our little health problems are nothing compared to what poor Stellan is going through again. Check out MckMama's blog and join me in praying for this family, won't you?