Notes from Super Churchlady

A Room Full of Broken Lives

2010-06-23T10:01:00.000-07:00

I went to Court today. (No, I'm not in trouble and nor have I gone back to practicing law.) I went to Family Court in support of a woman whose husband has been having an affair. She has two small children. I ran into her about a month ago while eating lunch with my new BFF. ("NBFF")

As we were chatting over lunch, we overheard another group of ladies comforting this young woman and asking about her church. The woman was crying. In the restaurant!! She was overwhelmed. How could we ignore this?? It was a divine appointment and NBFF and I asked her how we could help. She said she needed a babysitter and someone to accompany her to her laywer's office. That was easy. NBFF would babysit - and I would go with her to the lawyer's office. And so we did.

Over the past few weeks, I've had the opportunity (the privilege, really) to help her in ways that are unique to who I am and what I've experienced. God is amazing that way. As a lawyer - I can translate the legalese from her lawyer and help her navigate the legal system. As a mom who remembers what it was like to be single with 2 young children, I can comfort her and tell her that her children have to become her first priority - even when it means that her soon-to-be-ex husband appears to "win" on an issue.

The truth is....there are really no winners in Family Court. It struck me today as I sat in that historic courthouse that I was seated in a room full of broken lives. While waiting, I overheard a hearing about two children that were being removed from their father's house because of allegations of abuse. Husbands and Wives - now seated across the room from each other with their lawyers - accusing one another of insufficient notice to prepare for court. Weren't these same angry people once in love? They probably had a big wedding with family, friends, a white dress, a photographer, flowers....

It was hard for me to be there today. I was instantly transported back to a time when I was so discouraged, so lost. I patted my friend's back and wished that I had had a friend like me... way back then. I could have really used a friend like me.

My friend was brave. She didn't break down as she had feared. Flipping thru her index cards of scripture, she turned to me with teary eyes and said.."This isn't what I wanted for my life." I would venture to say that everyone in that room could express the same sentiment. I hope someday, my friend will be in a much better place (as I am!) and that, when God gives her the opportunity....the privilege, really.... she will reach over and pat the back of someone who is suffering.

"Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God." 1 Cor. 1:3-4

Allons dancé - Part II

2010-04-12T09:25:00.001-07:00

I just returned last night from the Crawfish Classic. I've written about this tennis tournament before. It's a crawfish eating, beer drinking, tennis playing extravaganza. Driving east on I-10 - in just about 4 hours, you can be knee-deep in Acadiana, listening to zydeco and an accent so pretty, you can forget that you have to stop dancing and play tennis the next day.

This year we played some women from Houma, Lousiana. Apparently, in Houma, tennis isn't high on the list of activities. In any event, the sweet women of Houma managed to scrape up 6 players and enter a team in the Crawfish Classic in Lafayette.

... I must say that it was one of my most memorable tennis experiences. They were awesome on and off the court. Hats off to Houma!

I had no idea that one could simultaneously dip snuff AND play doubles. Ladies and Gentlemen - brace yourselves! I've seen it and it can be done.

Cher, C'est tout!

Stay Buckled While Seated

2009-08-19T11:23:00.000-07:00

I love, love, love to travel but...I'm not a huge fan of flying. I tolerate it as a means to an end, i.e., me -- in some new and exciting locale. I'm not deathly afraid of flying, but I get a little freaked when the plane does a lot of rocking and rolling in turbulent air. Almost always now I am traveling with my husband. When the plane lurches, he reaches over and holds my hand because he knows. He knows I don't like it one bit. He smiles, reassures me it's just some warm air, and acts like he's calm as a cucumber. I check to make sure my seat belt is fastened, I squeeze his hand and I pray.

I'm really not afraid of dying. I'm afraid of crashing. I can't think of a more terrifying death than falling out of the sky. (Please Lord - if you're listening....I don't want to die in a plane crash.) Logically, I know that turbulence is not likely to result in a crash, but it doesn't make me feel any better on a really bumpy flight.

This feeling I have about flying is somewhat ironic because years ago, when Hubby and I first met - I was working for Continental Airlines and I traveled a lot. Every week I was flying to Miami for work - and then on the weekends, I might fly somewhere else just for fun. My friends flew, my parents flew, my kids flew - we all flew...a lot. It was free. It was fun. But even then I didn't like bumpy flights.

Needless to say the recent report about the Continental Flight from Rio to Houston that hit the clear air turbulence was unsettling to me. It's one thing to be told by the pilot that the plane might encounter some bumpy air. But this kind of "clear air turbulence" comes out of nowhere. The air looks clear. No sign of trouble. This is the kind of turbulence that leaves people injured. And...this is why the Captain always says - "stay buckled up while seated just in case we should encounter unexpected turbulence." You know the drill.

For the most part, I do always stay buckled when seated. On rare occasions - usually trans-Atlantic flights, I have found my seat belt unfastened. Oops. Probably I unhooked in my sleep. Or...returned from the restroom and was distracted. The principle here is....sometimes we think we're buckled in but we're not.

Most problems in life can be seen on the horizon. That is..most of what we stress about - marital problems, financial problems, and even some health problems - have precursors. Hints. Something isn't quite right and we know it. We have the opportunity to buckle down, buckle up, or...whatever you do when you begin to anticipate a problem. Spiritually, you can take it to God before it gets out of hand. You can search scripture and you can begin to pray for God's intervention - and even if it gets to be a full-blown problem, you have.. sort of "buckled your seat belt" for the bumpy flight.

But what about those "clear air turbulence" problems that simply appear out of nowhere. You're just flying along with clear skies and BAM! If we wrongly assume we are buckled in - we might get injured.

Times of testing reveal whether our seat belt is fastened - it reveals what we REALLY believe. When the "clear air turbulence" hits, I hope we're buckled in good and tight.

On Being Content...

2009-07-11T07:27:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure how all this fragmented information fits together into a cohesive message about being content, but somehow I feel that it does. You be the judge, I guess.

For the past month of so, I've been noticing this pink bird that hangs out in the retaining pond by my house. In ten years - I've never seen a bird like this. We live on a golf course and I suppose our proximity to the Gulf Coasts results in a high number of very interesting wildlife literally steps from my front door. There are ducks that refuse to get out of the way of the cars that come zooming down the street. The ducks just act annoyed and very slowly waddle out of the way when you honk at them. Turtles with shells 18 inches in diameter splash when I walk by and snowy white egrets and blue herrings are commonplace. Nutria that resemble huge beavers make rare appearances, but I see them. And...the squirrels. Lots and lots of squirrels. And the deer. It's like Wild Kingdom out there if you can stand the heat.

I have a friend how likes to run in the heat of the day. I don't know why I agree to join her - probably because it's easier to run in the heat with someone you can talk to than it is to run alone in the morning. Besides, I'd have to get up early. Anyway..it's usually when I'm out running or walking that I see the pink bird.

I'm not sure why but I'm obsessed with the pink bird. When I see it - I squeal with delight like a 2 year old that likes cows. My friends have begun to make fun of me now. The first time I saw it - I stopped and took off my sunglasses because I thought - hey - that bird looks pink. It was. It kind of looks like a flamingo, but it's not. It has a red stripe down the side and a spoon bill. It's really cool when it takes off in flight. It has a huge pink wingspan. It's glorious when it takes off and you can really get the full effect of its pinkness. (uh...you know what I mean.)

So - in describing the pink bird to my stepson who is an environmental animal loving kind of guy- he said .."oh...it's probably a Roseate Spoonbill" And...it is.
It's a Roseate Spoonbill. The pink bird has a name!

Why am I telling you all this? I don't know. I think because this pink bird gives me so much pleasure. The creativity of God in nature is right outside my front door!

God has revealed certain truths about Himself through nature or the created order.

“The heavens are telling of the glory of God; and their expanse is declaring the work of His hands.” Psalm 119:1-6

“For since the creation of the world His invisible attributes, His eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly seen, being understood through what has been made, so that they are without excuse." Romans 1:18-21

Nature reveals that God exists and that He is powerful. This testimony is so powerful that no person can claim that he or she knows nothing about God.

And this...all outside my front door!! When I am prone to, on the one hand - self-pity, or....on the other extreme, when I am tempted with self-aggrandizement (I've been wanting to use that word...) - I remember who God is and who I am and that I was created for His pleasure - kind of like that pink bird. I remember that God delights in His creation. And for a brief moment, I am content with all that I have and all that I am.

Singing Scared

2009-06-22T06:48:00.000-07:00

Don't laugh.

I sang a solo at church yesterday. Ok...it wasn't much of one - barely 10 measures, but still...my voice alone on a microphone. It's been years since I've sung alone with a microphone. I think the last solo I sang was probably about 25 years ago. When I was a young woman, I used to sing a lot of solos. I sang in ensembles and musicals. I was young and fearless.

Something happened in the last 25 years. I became.....terrified. I don't know why it scares me so. I think it's the fear that I really don't have a voice worthy of hearing by itself. It's fine in a group, but not good enough to listen to independently of others.

Interesting...I have no fear of getting up in front of a room full of people and talking, or teaching, or even trying a lawsuit....but singing? Now...that is terrifying. Except that it wasn't.

I guess it's kind of like riding a bike. When I was handed the mic - I just felt right something vaguely familiar wash over me. Some old recognizable feeling of my former self emerged and I was supernaturally calm. What happened? I think it was prayer and a Word from God, Himself.
Yes..Prayer. Lots of prayer to calm nerves, glorify God and enjoy the experience. And I did.

Psalm 63.... ⁷ Because you are my help, I sing in the shadow of your wings.

⁸ My soul clings to you;
your right hand upholds me.

That's some confidence right there when you think about singing in the shadow of the Father's wings...

And I did.

Cabo and My Life - Or the Lack Therof...

2009-06-02T05:20:00.000-07:00

We're back from beautiful Cabo in Mexico. I'm happy to report that everything appeared to be just the same. No drug traffickers, no swine flu....just perfect weather, cloudless skies and LA prices and Mexicans that speak better English than I do...

I guess that's kind of my issue with Cabo. It's really South Los Angeles and not the kind of Mexico that I find appealing. On the other hand - you can eat everything with impunity because you are not going to get sick here unless you eat from the most remote of taco stands. I ate a lot. Really. A lot.

It was great to sleep in for a few days and read a book by the pool. I've kind of forgotten what it's like to really relax. However...with the advent of the cell phone - can anyone really ever get away? And...it's not that anyone was bothering me. I was more likely bothering them.

Texts from Mom to Children:

"Where are you?"

"Who are you with?"

"What are you having to eat?"

"Don't forget to do this and that!"

"Don't forget to pick up this form from counselors' office!"

"Don't forget to wear blue to church on Sunday!"

They were in very good hands with Maricela, but I just can't help myself. I want to micromanage - even from CABO!

They say the cell phone is the longest umbilical cord. It's true. My poor children are having a hard time with my latest life transition. I am completely annoying them. I really can't help myself.

The truth is that I'm going through a stage --the stage of their not needing me nearly enough and I'm uncomfortable with that because for the last 16 years I have been defined by their needing me. And...it's basically over. They could very well survive now on their own. I guess I will have to get a life now. I think I used to have one. Now ---- where did I leave it? hmmm.....

Why Do I Avoid The Christian Bookstore?

2009-04-24T07:49:00.000-07:00

Uh...This is an uncomfortable topic for me, but the local Christian bookstore creeps me out. Occasionally, I'll go it to find a Christian Book and what's in there just astounds me. Instead of Chesterton, C.S. Lewis, Packer and Augustine...there is every kind of trinket and gadget splashed with the cross or the fish. Resurrection Eggs and Angel statues and other embarrassing Christian "gifts" that make me uncomfortable - like the Christian way to make tons of money, raise perfect kids, lose weight and the Christian way to decorate your home and ..well, you get the picture. It's a big self-help bookstore with some pink and plaid Bibles thrown in for good measure. A large majority of the books are "end times" related. We Americans seem obsessed with speculating on how and when and who will be around at the Second Coming. Don't get me wrong, there is room for prayer, thought and study about the "End Times" - but whip out your Bible and read it. Why succumb to the hundreds of bizarre and contradictory theories that are just that....theories?

Most of the other books are lacking doctrine, all devotion, no depth - cotton candy self-help crap. (The smiling preacher gets tons of space, by the way, because he wants you to have your best life now.)

Music? There is LOTS of music in the Christian Bookstore - but you'll have to look for it behind the display of Christian toe rings and Veggie Tale necklaces.

Hey There!

2009-04-14T10:33:00.000-07:00

Hey there!

I can hardly believe that my last post was more than a month ago. I promise I'm going to do better. I know that all 5 of you that sometimes read this blog are really disappointed...and....I'm sorry. It's not you...it's me. I just needed some space. I thought maybe some distance might do us some good.

When last we spoke, I was canceling our trip to Mexico for Spring Break. In the end, we decided that Baby Girl and I would go to New York together for the week. NEW YORK CITY? That's right. Just the two of us. We had a great time being big girls together. Seeing shows, navigating the subway system and visiting friends - I hardly wanted our time together in the Big Apple to end. Seriously.

We arrived on Wednesday and it was a whirl wind of adventure starting with a visit with our beloved and now Equity Card Holding Friend - Amber Ward.

On Thursday, we headed downtown to the Financial District and worked our way up to China Town and Soho. It rained. We were undeterred. Later that day, we had dinner at Sardi's and then the Coup D'Etat was Phantom of the Opera. On Friday, we shopped Midtown, saw NBC, when I'm away - it's only a few days into the vacation when I realize that I really miss home, miss my man, miss my dogs - and although I may be having fun, I am really longing for what is not with me. This trip was different in that I was never the least bit homesick until....Sunday.

I guess the whole worship experience in NYC, although meaningful, was really what brought me back home to Sugar Land. I missed my family, my church, my spot in the the choir. Funny - huh? What brought me back was worship. Interesting.

We did have a wonderful chance, however, to visit our friend Seth at his church on Park Ave. It is a beautiful, quite picturesque church built by Rockefeller. It's the perfect wedding church. Intimate, beautiful, reverent. And..I hear they have a rockin' new music director.

Really, the best part was just spending every waking moment with Baby Girl. She was fabulous. She LOVES New York - the energy, the art, the challenge. Here are some of my favorites photos of NYC thru her eyes.

The end.

Change of Plans, America!

2009-03-10T05:01:00.000-07:00

Many of you have probably seen the news about what is going on in Mexico. It's tragic. More than 6,000 people were killed in Mexico last year because of drug violence. This is staggering when you consider that there have been approximately 4500 Coalition deaths in Iraq since 2003. Beheadings, grenades thrown into restaurants, attacks on police, kidnappings and shootings have become a daily occurrence. Unfortunately, this is no longer limited to the border towns. It's spreading, like a cancer, to the beautiful interior and resort areas.

I fell in love with Mexico in college. Not only the country, but the people. I have traveled all over Mexico and I have never felt afraid - even in spite of the routine kidnappings and shoot-outs that have always occurred in Mexico. Until now.

My family was scheduled to go spend a week in beautiful Zihuatanejo. Remember at the end of the movie Shawshank Redemption, when Tim Robbins leaves Morgan Freeman with a post card showing a beautiful beach. That beach is in Zihuatanejo - a place I've never been. So....in January, when I had really had my fill of cold (ok...colder) days, we made plans to take the kids to Zihua and stay in a beautiful 3 bedroom condo overlooking the bay. One of the reasons I picked Zihua is because it is described as a "fishing village" - and I really don't like the Mega-Resort feel. I prefer to mingle with the locals and speak Spanish. I thought it would be great for my son to get to practice his Spanish. Oh...and I'd get a tan in the process.

After hearing SO much about Mexico, I decided to do a little digging just to make sure there were no problems in Zihua. What I discovered was that just 2 weeks ago, grenades were thrown in the police station - then the police went on strike. (If you think we have economic woes - the police make about $350 a month!) I think earlier that same week, police were ambushed on the main highway by men carrying AK-47s and...the same week, police reported finding the bound and bullet-ridden bodies of two men in a car in Zihuatanejo.

The government has deployed the army in Zihua due to the strike and because they feel that the police cannot be trusted. Not surprisingly, the drug cartels with their massive resources have been able to infiltrate the underpaid police. There is corruption at every level and some believe that Mexico is destined to become a failed state.

Needless to say... with great sadness, I cancelled our trip. After communicating with the American Consulate there, I decided that it just wouldn't be relaxing. I would be constantly looking over my shoulder. Every taxi driver would be scrutinized as a would-be kidnapper. Tourists are not targets, but these evil people don't care who gets in the way. It's just a matter of time before an American is the wrong place at the wrong time.

And...if you think this isn't your problem, think again. These thugs are already operating in every major U.S. city. This violence is spilling across the border and is already being felt here in Houston. Oh...and the demand for those drugs? Well...if we Americans didn't have an insatiable desire for their marijuana, cocaine and methamphetamines, they wouldn't be in business. Those AK-47's? They got them here in the U.S., too. Mexico's problem is our problem, Amigo.

I can't tell you how disgusted I was when watching the Academy Awards to see a skit about Pineapple Express - the latest big screen comedy that is all about smoking pot. Let Hollywood explain to the innocent Mexican people why we joke about this, while they are too scared to walk to the village tienda because of all the narco-violence.

Last week, I ate dinner at church on Wednesday night at a table of teenagers. One of them had, unbeknownst to his parents, illegally downloaded this movie to his Ipod. As he laughed about it, I tried to explain to him why his support of this kind of movie was wrong on so many levels, but I was met with uninterested eyes.

No Monkey Business

2009-02-17T05:25:00.000-08:00

When I was little, I used to fantasize about having a pet chimpanzee. It would wear a diaper and real clothes and I could carry it around and teach it all kinds of human tricks that would impress neighbors and relatives. I think there was some TV show (other than Tarzan) that had a pet chimp. Of course, my parents would have never allowed a wild animal to live with us . I could never understand why they were so reluctant to have an exotic life. We would have been the hit of the neighborhood! I laughed the other day when my 13 year old said that when she grows up, she's going to have a monkey as a pet. I imagined her apartment (already messy) with chimp poop and chimp smell and chimp toys everywhere. I laughed.

Apparently, some people do grow up and have pet monkeys. Maybe they didn't listen to their mom and dad. I read this morning about a pet chimp that went bananas (yes...I am a clever wordsmith) and almost killed a woman, who remains in critical condition in Connecticut. This 15 year old chimp named Travis weighed about 200 pounds and was reportedly as strong as two men. He indicated to his owner that he wanted to go for a ride in the car and grabbed the keys and left. When she called a friend to help subdue him, he viciously attacked her and bit both her hands off. The owner finally had to stab he 15 year old chimp, but he managed to stay alive and tried to enter a police cruiser after tearing off the rear-view mirror. The police shot him twice, and he still was able to stagger home. They later found him dead in the apartment. They think Travis' recent bout with Lyme disease may have caused him to go berserk.

Uh...Mom and Dad were right. No pet monkeys, please.

Hey - How are you??

2009-02-07T07:36:00.000-08:00

Good! Thanks for asking. It's been a while, hasn't it? Well...Let's see. Here's a quick recap of the last week or so....

Everyone in my family has been taken his/her turn in the sick barrel. Baby Girl currently is running a fever and has taken to the bed. I'm sick of being sick. The only possible silver lining is that I sound like Kathleen Turner - and I could maybe make some extra money on the phone if I wanted to...(if you know what I mean...)

Roger Federer lost to Rafa Nadal in the finals of the Australian Open and cried uncontrollably at the trophy presentation. I was stunned - at the loss - AND the crying. You had to see it to believe it.

My tennis partner and I lost our first match of the season. It wasn't pretty. Since we've been together, we've only lost 3 matches. I hate to lose, but we played this woman that was - in a word... better. Hmmm.

I'm officially 43 since we last spoke. It was a fabulous birthday. Nothing fancy - just family and friends eating Mexican Food. Beautiful - 70 degree weather, low humidity - Perfect!

I'm teaching the Ten Commandments at church and it's SO interesting. Why is God's name supremely precious? Because in the expressing of His name, He reveals His character and all that He is and all that He does.

My soon-to-be 16 year old son is singing in the Adult Choir at church. I can't tell you how proud I am of him and how much it means to me that he is praising God with his voice. We are learning some very challenging Easter Music.

Scooter - our middle doggie - tore his ACL and has to have surgery. AND...there is an orthopedic veternarian surgeon that does this micro surgery on his tiny little knee. It will cost an arm and a leg - but if we don't do it - he will get arthritis and be crippled. I just can't do this to my 6 year old dog. He's too cute. He's the Scootie - Pootie. So...I will be poor, but my dog will run and be happy.

Husband shot below par today. He's still Da' MAN!

Hope you're doing ok, too.

Is your blog a job?

2009-01-25T11:28:00.000-08:00

I'm glad that I don't have to feed my family with this blog, because somedays... I just don't have anything to say.

Neti Pot

2009-01-22T19:39:00.000-08:00

I sick. I no feel good. I Neti Pot. No relief.

Last week I went to the doctor, an ENT. She looked up into my sinuses and said she wasn't sure if I had a sinus infection, but to be on the safe side, she gave me antibiotics and a steroid nasal spray. I was better for a few days and then, I took a nose dive. (Nose - literally) I think what happened was that I caught my son's cold virus on the tail end of the antibiotics. So....I still can't breathe. I'm sooooo tired of the chronic sinusitis. How much fluid is there in one person's head??? So, today I plodded into Walgreens and resorted to the Neti Pot like Dwight Shrute. The only thing is...it came out my mouth and not the other nostril. I think this is because I'm so congested. It did feel better afterward. For about 20 seconds... Now, I'm drinking my hot tea and watching the Australian Open and hoping that this, too, shall pass.

God Bless the United States of America

2009-01-21T11:36:00.001-08:00

It's been a fascinating week of U.S. History. I've been mesmorized by the Inauguration in all its Pomp and Circumstance. So ironic - that the inaguration of Barack H. Obama would fall on the heels of MLK day. I have to say - it was emotional for me. I cried watching it. The love and admiration that I have for my country and the happiness I felt for my fellow Americans of African descent was overwhelming. Since I've been born, black Americans have always had the same rights that I have. I use the word "rights" carefully. Certainly, I understand that those rights weren't always honored, but I'm really talking about the rights on the books, here. I went thru public school with black children. I went to college, law school and began practicing law at a prominent downtown Houston lawfirm with African-Americans. Not only were they were paid the same salary as I was, sometimes, they received promotions over and above those who were equally qualified with white skin, because it just looked better to have some African-American partners. Because I never witnessed a lot of blatant racism - shamefully, I guess I never realized how little those rights on the books mattered. The fact is...even in these days when Oprah reigns supreme, network news anchors and Supreme Court Justices are African Americans, and Colin Powell and Condi Rice have been Secretaries of State.....many many blacks didn't buy into the dream of Martin Luther King until yesterday. For them, I cry tears of happiness. Tears of true freedom. Finally. If the election of Obama does nothing else for our country - it has freed us from the slavery of our own emotions.

No, I didn't vote for Obama. We disagree on a lot of things. But, I have a deep admiration for him and I pray (and we should all pray) that he is able to unite us in a way and with wisdom that a white man never could.

So...enjoy this - and God Bless the United States of America.

Sure - I'll be your friend. Now...who are you, again?

2009-01-19T18:32:00.000-08:00

I have a new friend. On Facebook - you know...the social networking site. Wait. I'm not really sure. I kind of remember her. Name sounds familiar. Oh yeah.....I remember her now. OK. Let's facebook it (ha ha...that was clever, no?) FB can be a little weird with all these names coming up from the past. I keep asking myself - was I nice to this person in High School. How come I can't remember her and she can remember me? Sometimes, I have to cheat and message a common "friend" to refresh my memory. Especially if they add a married last name to the one they had in High School. Once I'm "refreshed" I'm like...

OHHHH....YEAH......I remember that girl. Then, you can see what happened to that girl. What she looks like now. What about her husband, her kids, her politics, her faith - does she have a Bible Verse or some funky liberal hippie bumpersticker. A blog? Did she vote for Obama or McCain? A foodie? A greenie? Why do even care? but...I do. It's like permission to cyber-spy on people. The most interesting thing about observing the teens on FB is that they ask everyone - I mean EVERYONE - they've ever had any contact with to be their "friend". Often that includes me - the mom of their friend (or acquaintance, as the case may be.) I never request children as my friend. It's seems kinda creepy. But...if they request me, I'll be their friend. After a while - I guess they forget who all their friends are...then they post some really racy, stupid, teenager photos or some atrociously bad language. (If I see one more 13 year old taking a photo of themselves in the bathroom mirror with their IPhone and their tongue sticking out making the rock and roll sign - I'm gonna puke.) I wonder if they know their future employers may be looking at their Facebook page someday.

For someone like me - who really isn't very good about keeping in touch - the really awesome thing about FB, however, is keeping in touch (but not really having to personally interact) with those people you never should have lost touch with in the first place. Today...for example - I talked (via keyboard) to my cousin in Arkansas, a friend from high school, a college roommate AND....my high-school band director. WEIRD - huh?

Your New Healthy Eating Plan

2009-01-12T10:25:00.000-08:00

So...you've already fallen off the wagon - eh? It's January 12th and you just can't keep the New Year's Resolutions. You're pathetic and flabby.

You're....

FAT!!!

Is this what you're telling yourself? STOP. Your head has more to do with your eating than your stomach. What??? You want SuperChurchlady to give you some healthy eating advice?? Ok...Since you asked (begged, really....) I'll give you the secret to jump-starting your year of healthy eating. My credentials?? Uh...let's just say that Oprah and I have a lot in common. Besides, everywhere you look these days - there's some advice on how you can lose weight. My advice is FREE. You don't even have to buy the magazine.

Ok. Ready?

1. No more self-defeating head language. You're awesome. You're strong. You're healthy. God gave you that incredible body shaped just like it is...(I think God must have been thinking about a lovely Anjou Pear when I was formed)...and it's miraculous. You love it. (Got it?)

2. No more mindless eating. No Pantry Loitering. Ya' hear me? Get outta there. Now. No chocolate chips out of the bag. No shoving your hand in the cereal boxes. For the next 7 days, you will write everything down that goes in your mouth. As the saying goes....."If you bite it - you write it." You'll be amazed at how often you eat without even realizing it.

3. Exercise is good. It's great. Especially if you're doing it for the right reasons, i.e., to maintain muscle and bone mass, increase your heart and lung capacity, etc., etc. However, if you're trying to lose weight - just realize that you can workout all day long, but if you're still hoovin' it down like a truckdriver, you're not going to get any smaller. One of my friends who was a personal trainer used to say that 80% of losing weight is what goes in your mouth. Incidentally, losing weight will make you want to work out more. (Oh...the irony!)

4. No sodas (even diet ones) for 7 days. Give it up. You can do it. Your body needs a break.

5. Most diets will work if you stick to it. Consistency is the key. Personally, I think any diet that makes you give up all bread, for example, is silly and not likely to last. You may lose weight, but who really wants to go through life never eating another pizza or biscuit or cinnamon roll. (ok....now forget about the cinnamon roll and the biscuit - focus!)

6. Wanna snack on something salty or crunchy? Go brush your teeth. Your mother's been meaning to tell you that they probably need a good brushing anyway. Or...chew some gum. Muscle thru it. Oh...You MUST eat something? Then see the patented SCL diet secrets below.

SCL patented diet secrets (just for you, my special readers...) -

The Veggie Hot Dog. Consists of....Healthy-Choice Sugar Free Hot Dog Bun, Veggie Dog (0 fat grams! and 17 grams of Protein). Ketchup (just a little - it's got sugar); Mustard (all you want) and if your breath is Ok with it....chopped onions.

Weight Watcher's Yogurt. (all flavors - but I really like Key Lime Pie)

100 Calorie mini-bag of Microwave Popcorn (NOT the Buttery, Garlic, Peppered, fancy-schmancey hoo ha kind)

Now, go and be healthy and check back with me in 7 days. I want to know how you're doing. Get busy. Hop to it. Time's a wastin'. You'll be wearing that bikini in no time.

Nobody Puts Baby in a Corner! and other holiday memories...

2009-01-06T05:31:00.000-08:00

It's 2009!! It makes one ask....who put the time machine in fast forward. As you know, January is not one of my favorite months. In fact - the least favorite. (Thus - the melancholy moment with the bad posture my daughter caught with her new Canon EOS) Good photo. Slumpy subject.

Nevertheless...I am trying to stay positive. There are good things about getting back to normal. Back to routine. Back to 6 a.m. -- making lunches, driving to school. It's good to be back in the saddle, and yet...there was something so wonderful about these holidays. I'm not exactly sure why, but I'm thinking that maybe people were a little bit more in tune with friends, family, hearth and home and..., perhaps, a little less concerned with the "stuff" of Christmas.

Here's a photo recap of my holidays...

Sang LOTs of Christmas music every Sunday of Advent. Even went Christmas Caroling with my favorite Popcorn family (Baby Girl in Red sweater, sunglasses and boots!)

Watched Dirty Dancing with my step-children. We marveled at the bad acting, but good dancing... and remembered that...."Nobody Puts Baby in a Corner"

Cooked and Cleaned more than I usually do - and Pretended to Be June Cleaver, wearing both Pearls and an Apron (and the ubiquitous Uggs)

Hosted a Fellowship of Christian Atheletes Christmas Party for 50 (yeah...that's right, there were F.I.F.T.Y ) Middle Schoolers all shoved into the game room for a gift exchange.

Watched A Christmas Story on Chistmas Eve in a chair with my son. Oh...Love these moments!

Shared a bonding moment with my 28 year old Step-Daughter and accompanied her to Bikram Yoga - taught by the Vietnamese Dragon Lady who screamed "TO THE MAXIMUM" and remembered what it was like to be flexible and in shape.

Ate and Ate and Ate..

It was good to be home for the holidays.

"Christmas Eve Gift!"

2008-12-24T07:50:00.000-08:00

My family has this bizarre tradition that originated on my dad's side of the family. On Christmas Eve - be the first person to yell out "Christmas Eve Gift" and you're suppose to get one, I guess. My family - always putting a new twist on things - reverses things by saying "Give it here!" - which I guess means that the 2nd person is then suppose to receive the gift. I'm not really sure. It's a very weird custom that I've never heard of in any other family.

My mom's family lived in Arkansas hours away and so we never visited them much at Christmas. My dad's family lived only about an hour away, so we used to go over there on Christmas Eve. I have the most wonderful memories of pulling up to my grandparents country home - with the rocking chairs on the front porch - and my grandfather hobbling out to the porch to greet us getting out of the car with a "CHRISTMAS EVE GIFT!" - Of course - we all yelled - GIVE IT HERE!

What followed was laughter. Food. Dogs. The smell of a wood-burning stove and old people. Old people have a distinctive smell. Know what I mean? My grandparents had a big living room that I thought was huge as a child. It was probably tiny in reality. They had all the children and grandchildren's photos framed and on the wall. You could look around and see all the photos of so-and-so in his army uniform and Little Johnny's toothless grin - posed on a bathmat at Sears. They didn't have a lot of money (OK...they had none) but they had 3 recliners all lined up in front of a big color TV. I used to love to visit them because it seemed worlds away from my everyday life. My grandfather had a wolf/dog that was found under the house with some hound dog pups. I was convinced he really was a wolf and that's what my grandfather called him - "Wolf." And...guess what? My grandfather fed him Wolf brand chili. Really.

Here's hoping your reminiscing about your Christmases past and more importantly, enjoying this one. I hope your gifts are all bought, wrapped and you can relax with your family today. I hope that if you couldn't spend as much as you wanted on Christmas, that you won't dwell on that part of Christmas and that you'll treat this as a gift from heaven to re-discover what Christmas is all about.

Finally - I hope you have the greatest Christmas Eve Gift of all - the gift of eternal life offered to us through Jesus Christ.

Merry Christmas!

Moms Make It Merry

2008-12-18T13:27:00.000-08:00

Do you have happy nostalgic memories of Christmas from your youth?

Chances are...you can thank your mom.

Was your home decorated at Christmas - with lights, garlands, a tree? Maybe you had those cute villages with the fake pond and snow?

Your mom probably packed and unpacked all those decorations. Maybe you helped her put them up - but did you help her take them down?

Did your family send out Christmas cards?

Your mom kept up with all the addresses and who sent what to whom and arranged for the photo if you had one. She probably coordinated all your outfits and made sure your hair looked nice, too.

Did you participate in the play at school or church?

Your mom found the angel costume for you - or the perfect red dress with matching head band, so you would look so....precious. Oh yeah...that was Mom on the front row with the video camera clapping the loudest.

Did you leave cookies for Santa?

Your mom baked those and all those other goodies that have become your Christmas favorites.

All those presents under the tree?

The didn't get there by magic, Buster. Mom schlepped around town with your ridiculous list and bought all those . She kept up with exactly how many each one of you children had so that no one got more. Oh yeah....she wrapped them all, too!

Those darling teacher gifts you gave to Mrs. So-and-So?

Dear Ole Mom ran out to Walgreens at the last minute so you could show up with the perfect present.

Remember when you ran off to play with all your Christmas presents on Christmas morning?

Your mom was picking up all the wrapping paper and trash strewn from here to kingdom come.

Did you have Christmas dinner with all the trimmings?

Your poor overworked, underappreciated mother cooked that too (that is...after she cleaned up all the wrapping paper. )

The birth of Christ was a miracle. Christmas, however, is not. It's not magic. It takes a world of moms to pull it off. Go hug your mom right now! NOW!

P.S. Dear Mom - In case I never told you, thanks for everything you did to give me all those wonderful Christmas memories. You're the best!

The Rest of the Story

2008-12-13T19:16:00.000-08:00

Baby Girl playing "Lady Bugg" in the Fall Theater Production with her BFF, Maggie.

She's 13 and she is exceptional...so wise beyond her years. There's no one thing that stands out about her. She's just exceptional. She is not nearly as impulsive as I was at her age - she thinks things through and considers the long term implications. Ok..she's a bit spoiled. She is pig-headed and stubborn. (No, really. It makes me want to choke her sometimes.) She's not a real girly -girl, but enough to be feminine and attractive. She loves deeply; hurts deeply; and laughs heartily. She smells like cotton candy. AND....she has an "A" in math, which I believe may mean she has all "As" this semester. (We're shooting off guns in the street.) Now...onto the bragging: She plays volleyball and tennis. She's much more athletic than I ever was. She's a member of PALS. And..she's one darn good little actor. She can mimic any accent. She has a deep and abiding love for Jesus. She stands up for what she believes in despite some alienation by the "in" crowd. She is all black/white - no grey. She cares not what people think about her favorite shoes (they don't match! they are not a pair! It drives me insane...) She's obsessed with Coldplay and the Office. My favorite thing about her: everything.

So proud of them!

2008-12-12T11:58:00.000-08:00

Get ready...Big Brag session here. I'm in the mood. Loving my kids and thanking God for the privilege of raising two really wonderful people. Let's start with the oldest. My son --Isn't he so cute! Last week he wore a tuxedo and sang in Handel's Messiah. Tonight is he has another choir concert. (He's the President of the JV Men's Choir) Two weeks ago he received an award for Academic Excellence. Three weeks ago, we celebrated an undefeated season with his football team. He plays Center and his coaches seem to really like and respect him. My favorite thing about him: He is a loyal friend. He never talks badly about anyone. He is principled without being judgmental. He makes me laugh like no one else can. He turns 16 in 3 months and I still write his name on his paper lunch sack (sometimes I draw a heart). Occasionally, he will humor me by holding my hand in the car on the way to school. I am blessed.

Tomorrow - the girl.

Knock, Knock, Knocking on My Chamber Door

2008-12-05T04:39:00.001-08:00

Here we are in San Miguel de Allende on the Home and Garden Tour. Super-Churchlady, Birthday Girl, and BFF. Aren't we just precious? It was the first time in San Miguel for my friends and although, they've traveled to Mexico many times (in fact, my BFF used to have a home in Cabo), they were concerned about 3 girls in interior Mexico together alone. They kept joking about the possibility of being kidnapped - and although they were joking, I could tell that they were a little apprehensive about traveling to an unknown place with just lil' ole me as their guide.

My favorite place to stay in San Miguel for you travel buffs is Casa Luna.

I'll let you check out the link for yourself, but just trust me when I say this place is pure heaven. You open the door from the cobblestone street and you just can't believe what lies ahead. Anyway, back to my story....

I was staying in the Yellow Room and they were in the Sweet Suite, which is across an open-air courtyard. One morning, shortly before dawn, I was awakened by my two friends. They were still in their PJ's, they were freezing (because...they were technically outside in the courtyard- although behind a locked door to the street) and they were absolutely panic-stricken because of the cacophony (I always wanted to use that word) of noise coming from the streets of San Miguel. It was incredible. Loud bangs that echoed through the streets and mountains. It got closer and then went away. It came back again. (I have to admit - it was VERY loud, once I was awake.) My friends - whose room was closer to the street- swore there was banging on the front door. They had convinced themselves that there were rival drug cartels shooting it out in the streets. BFF had already determined how we would escape in the trunk of a fellow guest - a Mexican-American woman now living in Mexico City.

In my irritation at being awakened - I started to laugh.

Me: "It's just fireworks. Go back to bed!"

Them: "No! That is gunfire. I know gunfire when I hear it."

Me: (Losing my sense of humor and getting grumpier and colder with the door open... "Whatever. Gunfire or fireworks. Really. It's probably a Saint's day or something. It happens all the time here." And...I assured them that Ernesto, the faithful velador (night watch-man) of many years would protect us from any would-be intruders.

They went back to bed - but I could tell they weren't convinced it wasn't a new Mexican revolution.

Well...at breakfast...we heard the complete story. November 22nd is St. Cecilia's Day. St. Cecilia is the Patron Saint of the Musicians. There is a saying about San Miguel that they only have fireworks on days that end in a "y". San Miguel is famous for it's fiestas. San Miguel has more fiestas per square inch than any town in Mexico, the guidebooks tell you. In San Miguel - they have a fiesta to celebrate the fact that there is no fiesta.

So...if you're in San Miguel and right after 6 a.m. you hear something that makes you think the whole city is being attacked, go back to sleep. It's just some St. Somebody's day.

Recuerdos de San Miguel

2008-11-29T18:54:00.001-08:00

I'm hoping to share some specific memories from San Miguel with you this week. I always like to dole them out slowly so as not to overwhelm you or bore you to death - AND...the added benefit is... it makes me develop my posts and not just regurgitate the whole trip in one rambling post.

So...here is the first in a series. Please indulge me.

One of the things I love about Mexicans is their sense of humor. They love to laugh.

This was a couple I saw outside the Fabrica La Aurora - a former textile factory outside El Centro of San Miguel. It's now a very cool complex of art galleries, antique stores and a few restaurants. I couldn't resist taking their photo and I wanted to take more than one and not feel guilty getting close to them, so I offered ten pesos (about 75 cents) to La Señora and this conversation ensued:

Me: Buenos días, Señora ¿Còmo está? Me gustaría tomar su foto, por favor.
Translation: Good Morning, How are you? I would like to take your photo, please.
(And...I hand her the ten pesos and take a photo.)

La Señora: ¿Qué pasa con mi compañero?
Translation: What about my companion?
Me: Él, también?
Translation: "Oh...I have to pay him, too"
(I laugh ...and I hand him ten pesos and take a few more upclose photos of the Burro - say thanks and start to walk away..)

La Señora: ¿Qué pasa con el burro? Ha olvidado de él?
Translation: (As she is scurrying after me....) What about the burro??? You forgot about him.

Then we all had a good hearty laugh.

Happy Thanksgiving!!

2008-11-27T18:17:00.001-08:00

It was a Great Thanksgiving!

We shot guns, played with dogs, built a fire outside and drove the Kawasoki Mule over acres of Texas hill country.

Now we're home and I'm sooooooooo full.

Of turkey, prime rib, 2 kinds of dressing -- cornbread AND oyster dressin' made by my friend of 21 years from North Carolina. Sweet potatoes. Mashed potatoes. Roasted brussel sprouts with chestnuts, green beans with bacon. Oh. I'm never eating again. Pecan Pie. Apple Pie. An Orange Bevo Cake (for those heading to the UT vs. A&M game. No...I'm not kidding. The cake had Bevo on it.)

Dear Readers -- Here's hoping that you, too, had a great day of giving thanks to our great God.

"I thank my God in all my remembrance of you, always offering prayer with joy in my every prayer for you all!" Phil 1:3-4

Super Churchlady Travels to San Miguel de Allende

2008-11-21T05:54:00.000-08:00

Hurray! Today I'm leaving for San Miguel with my two best friends, one of whom just had her 50th birthday and we're celebrating the momentous occasion. A few observations:

1.) my friends are moving from the 40's to the 50's (when did this happen!!)

2.) I really need some R&R

3.) SMA is my favorite place in the world and when I'm an old lady - I fully intend to live there with my 17 cats. (Wait....I hate cats. 17 dogs)

Expect a report when I get back on Tuesday. In the meantime - think of me, walking the Colonial Streets, speaking Spanish, looking at art, shopping, laughing - and eating some really good authentic Mexican food.

Gotta go pack.

Out of Step

2008-11-19T13:00:00.000-08:00

When I was in Jr. High and High School - I was a majorette. Before achieving the illustrious (yes - dare I say ....coveted...) position of majorette - I marched in the band with my flugelhorn. Something about all that marching has stayed with me over the last 25+ years. To this day - I count my steps between cracks in the sidewalks like hash marks on a football field. Occasionally - I'll want to swing my arms like the majorettes do out in front of the band with the baton. I can still remember and appreciate those hours and hours of practice - our band director insisting on precision. Everyone's right heel hitting the hash mark at the exact same time. And when not....his screaming out at the people who were "out of step." Funny....it was always the same tuba player who was horribly out of step. I wanted him to die a slow painful death because when he did it wrong, we had to run laps in the hot humid East Texas sun.

Lately..I've felt "out of step." Most noticeably... I'm out of step with God. And my children. And my husband. My various duties and obligations are not being fulfilled with the same sense of joy and desire for excellence. I'm still marching. I'm still in the band. But...I'm just not quite hitting the mark. Do you know what I mean? I kind of feel that I'm carrying around a huge tuba - and I'm a few notes behind where I should be...

Mormons Baptize Dead Jews

2008-11-11T05:07:00.000-08:00

Mormons practice posthumous baptism by proxy- that is...baptizing someone after they're dead. They believe that someone can be saved simply to baptizing them into the Mormon faith- even if they've already left this world.

Apparently, for a few years now, the Mormons have been "baptizing" Jews killed in Nazi concentration camps, and the Jews are hopping mad about it. They want the Mormons to quit baptizing their dead. The Vatican has also directed its dioceses to withhold any and all databases from the Mormons so that the Catholics cannot be baptized posthumously.

I don't know why but I find extreme humor in this whole situation. As a Christian - the futility of the whole baptism/being mad process is so interesting. At the risk of being disrespectful....I guess I wanna say....'WHO CARES!" Who cares if they call out the name of a dead guy and they splash some water around. It only matters if it's a valid form of conversion and God really now considers that person a Mormon and lets them into the7th heaven..or whatever. And if this really works.....shouldn't the Jews want them to do it?

(Of course...I understand that the Jews and the Catholics consider it disrespectful - I'm being a little facetious here, people. But really...don't we have bigger fish to fry in this country than being upset about posthumous baptisms?)

A Big Important Week

2008-11-10T08:05:00.000-08:00

Last Tuesday was historical. Write it down. Keep a record of this momentous occasion. No - I'm not talking about how our country voted a quasi-black man into office (although - that certainly should be noted). I didn't vote for him, but he seems nice.

I'm talking about something much much more relevant to your life. More "hands-on" if you will.... I'm talking about the purchase of the year!!!! Last Tuesday, while I was on cold medication with a fever, I went out shopping to pick up a bath mat so my dear husband wouldn't have to have cold feet when he gets out of the shower.

That's when it happened. It was last Tuesday, November 4th, 2008 when I discovered these incredibly cute black riding boots from......TARGET!! Yes, I know - it's hard to believe that you could snatch up such trendy, good-looking boots from Tar-Gey - but run...don't walk...right now to your nearest Super-T and get these before they sell out. $35.00 You can't beat it.

Uh.. You didn't know I shopped at Target? Oh.

When Did Trick or Treating Get Sexy?

2008-10-31T14:08:00.000-07:00

Baby Girl (age 13) is going to a Halloween Party tonight. At the last minute her previous plans of going as Sarah Palin were nixed. She doesn't want to wear a business suit and heels and this other girl was also going as Sarah Palin and BG didn't want to wear the same thing, for goodness sake. So...being the good mother that I am....I dashed to the nearest Costume Store to get an option for tonight's party. I was looking for something friendly and funny and age-appropriate for my 13 year old. Well....HELLO? Have you seen what's out there lately for girls costumes? SEX, People. Let me tell you... There was not an outfit to be found that didn't show some kind of belly, booty or some bossom. Sexy nurses, pirates, cops, ghouls, witches, super-heroes, even.....SEXY Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz. Seriously. Dorothy never showed her belly in that movie. Not once. Well...there is that one part of the movie when the flying monkeys come out and I hid behind the couch. Maybe that's when she showed her belly and I just missed it.

Mean...or Menopausal

2008-10-28T05:45:00.000-07:00

Lately - my daughter has pointed out that I've been less than nice. I think she might have actually used he word "mean". (Ok..she did). Am I ....mean? I started to recount the past few days.

Yesterday: Waiting in car outside math tutor's home. Little boy playing with sling shot hits my car with pecan. I roll down window and yell...

"Hey you! Yeah...YOU! Did you just hit my car with a rock? You better hope you didn't dent my car or you're gonna pay?"

Is that mean?

I've heard this happens in menopause. But...at 42 - I'm not exactly menopausal; although for sure I've got some symptoms.

Menopause comes from the Greek language and literally translates to mean "the end of the monthlies".

There is a step before menopause. It's call "Perimenopause"

Perimenopause is the transition years, the years both before and after the last period , when most women find that they have at least some symptoms of hormonal change and fluctuation, such as hot flashes, mood changes, insomnia, fatigue, and memory problems. Hmmm.....

Here's what I learned about perimnopause...

During this time, the production of most of the reproductive hormones, diminishes and becomes more irregular, often with wide and unpredictable fluctuations in levels. During this period, fertility diminishes.

Symptoms of perimenopause begin as early as age 35, although most women become aware of the symptoms about 10 years later than this. Perimenopause can last for a few years, or possibly longer. The actual duration and severity of perimenopause in any individual woman cannot be predicted in advance or during the process. Not every woman experiences symptoms during perimenopause. Approximately one third of all women hardly notice symptoms at all other than their periods becoming erratic and then stopping. Another one third of women have moderate symptoms. The remaining one third of women have very strong symptoms which tend to have a longer duration. The tendency to have a very strong perimenopause may be inherited in some cases.

Common Symptoms of Menopause

Some of the most common symptoms of menopause are mood swings, (Oh yeah) anxiety and depression (Yes), unclear thinking (Definitely), endometriosis, fibroid tumors, lapses of memory, night sweats and hot flashes, unable to handle stressful situations (BINGO!), tender or lumpy breasts, chronic fatigue, body hair change (Must we really talk about this), yeast infections, irregular sleeping patterns, water retention, blood sugar fluctuations and headaches to name a few. (We just wont' go there.)

Normally menopause will start by the time a woman has reached the age of fifty (the average age is fifty one.) I think my mom was about 48. Oh yeah... I remember it well. It was a difficult time. She was really....(wait for it)....

MEAN.

Bubba's Big Adventure

2008-10-24T07:06:00.000-07:00

I couldn't decide if this post should be titled "Doggone!" or "Bubba's Big Adventure." I guess BBA won out.

Yesterday, amid the myriad of painters, carpenters, cleaners, contractors, etc. - Bubba Dog - the oldest Bichon quietly slipped out the side door and was missing for four hours. OK, I've admitted this before - quietly, but I'm going to officially come clean.

Bubba is my favorite dog. There...I've said it.

Maricela called me in a panic. Bubba was missing. I raced home from the lighting store sure that he was somewhere in the new house. This made perfect sense to me because he had inadvertently shut the door to the powder bath behind him the night before when he went to the nearest watering hole. "Tranquila!" I told Mari. He's somewhere in the house.

After looking everywhere, it became obvious that Bubba had flown the coop. I wanted to vomit. I called in the forces. We made posters. Four dear friends hit the streets armed with cell phones and pictures of the Bubba Dog. No Bubba. OMGosh - he's going to be a statistic. I had nightmares of finding my Bubba (and not in a good way...if you know what I mean.) How was I going to tell Baby Girl? Would she see the signs in the mailboxes as she rode home on the bus? How was I going to sleep without my Bubba's bad breath breathing into my face??

Finally - after covering many miles on foot and in the car, my friend, Carol - assured me that someone had probably picked him up and we should return home in case someone called. We rounded the corner and the landscape guys were flagging me down. They had the Bubba Dog!!! He was dirty and tired and seemed confused. I wonder if he was trying to go home to the old house.

God - I owe you yet another one!

God "Moves" In Mysterious Ways

2008-10-19T10:52:00.000-07:00

Moving.

I think it's up there with death and divorce as far as stress is concerned. We moved last Monday.

I hate moving. I can't find my "foundation garments", my dogs are peeing everywhere marking territory formerly owned by a cocker-spaniel, the painters we hired aren't finished and they knock on the door (where the door bell doesn't work) at 8 a.m. Boxes are everywhere and it smells weird.

Last week, I had as close to a mental breakdown as I've had in years. On Monday night, I cried inconsolably (you know....the "ugly cry" when the snot pours out and you get the hiccups). I realized that the movers had just shoved everything into my new house without regard to where it was going. The garage was also completely full and...did I mention we have a 10' x 20' storage facility we're renting. ALL FULL. Good Lord! Why do I have all this stuff?

I'm thinking that's exactly the point He was trying to make. Why DO I have all this stuff? Why have I spent my money, my time and my life accumulating STUFF? Stuff that's now out of style, or rusty, or dirty or too big, too small, or obsolete?

I am repulsed at all the stuff. Repulsed.

Packing Pitfalls

2008-10-06T05:27:00.000-07:00

One of the problems I have with packing is that I find things that make me stop packing. I stop packing when I find something that makes me laugh (or cry) and then I run downstairs to show my family. That's what happened last night when I found these two photos. Encouraged by my friend, Katy, who always cracks me up with her '80s photos - I decided to share - this...

In this photo (circa 1985) - I was just beginning to understand and appreciate my hair's full potential to defy gravity. I was in training, you might say.

In this photo (below) - I have reached the pinnacle of big hair (1989). Notice the other 2 girls are trying to stay in the game, but they just can't compete. I win.

I'm convinced that this is proof that I could be a Vice-Presidential candidate some day - or a couch-sitting, pink haired wife of a tele-evangelist. Either one.

So they loaded up the truck and they moved to Beverly....Hills, that is.

2008-09-27T06:27:00.000-07:00

We're not moving to Beverly Hills. Actually, we're just moving about a half-mile to a new neighborhood. Still...I hate moving.

I have so much to do and I'm paralyzed. Here I sit...blogging. Yesterday -- I spent a lot of time putting Sarah Palin's hair-do on my photo. (Just so you know - I look best with Cindy McCain's do. Michelle Obama's is too severe for my features.)

I should be packing, contacting utilities, checking on the work being done in the new house, going to Sherwin Williams to get the paint sample I'm supposed to get. But...I'm not. I'm blogging. I am, however, formulating a plan.

Psychologically - if I take everything off the walls it will look like I've accomplished a lot. That will give me a boost of energy and then I'll start to really pack all my crap. I'm going to fake myself out. (*hysterical maniacal laughter inserted here)

Yeah...Let's have another cup of coffee and think about my plan for a while.

Do I look smart -uh..- er?

2008-09-26T06:28:00.000-07:00

Wearing the Robe

2008-09-23T20:28:00.000-07:00

Today I had my 3 month post-biopsy follow-up mammogram. I am relieved and grateful that all is well and I just have to go back in 6 months for my routine annual mammogram.

You know - when you're in the white robe waiting on the radiologist to read your diagnostic mammogram with the other weary robe-wearing women with the furrowed brows, there is an incredible bonding that takes place in those 20 to 30 minutes. It matters not what color, what age or what socio-economic differences may be apparent - you can look into that other woman's eyes and you know exactly what she's feeling. Women tend to open up while you're in the robe. I found myself today explaining to a friendly robe-wearer how it would be inconceivably inconvenient for me to have breast cancer at the present time due to our impending move. She seemed to understand and shook her head sympathetically. And....I found out about her previous cancers and how the radiation had caused her heart to fail. Now she's on the heart transplant list. Hurricane Ike caused her to move in with her daughter because she needs electricity for her heart machine. Her daughter gets on her nerves and isn't married to the man she's living with.

Robe-wearing will break down some barriers for sure.

Sometimes I have Weird Thoughts

2008-09-20T10:16:00.000-07:00

The federal government is involved in the biggest bailout in history. Seriously. Hurricane Ike left millions without power and water. A few nights ago we went to dinner and the only thing being discussed was high school football. Makes me wish Richard Brautigan was around to write a poem.

How do you think

it would go?

A Cup of Cold Water....Or Hot Coffee, as the case may be

2008-09-15T09:02:00.000-07:00

Hurricane Ike delivered terrible damage to the Houston area. Sugar Land's damage is mostly limited to power outages and trees and debris, thank goodness. We have several small trees down and our yard is littered with leaves and dead branches. AND.....We are STILL without power. I'd like to complain, but I really cannot. We have had really great food - thanks to our gas grill and careful freezer management. Today - we've been blessed with 60 degree weather. Ahhh..... Our windows are open - and we are experiencing a delightful cross breeze. But - the biggest blessing has been our church.

Our church has POWER (spriritual and electrical). It has swung open its doors to the community. Last night I dried my hair in the bathroom in the nursery. Right now I'm using the church's computer and doing my laundry in the church's washing machines. I got ice out of the church's huge ice maker. I love the church. The church is good.

For those of you that can....go into your kitchen, flip on the lights - open the fridge and take out something. Microwave it until it's good and hot. Pop the top on a cold diet coke and count your blessings.

We are.

Weird Calm Before the Storm

2008-09-12T14:21:00.000-07:00

It's been a beautiful day. Both kids had friends over. I napped. I cooked. Who would ever imagine that a monster is creeping up on the Gulf --a monster named Ike. 100 years ago we would have just thought that this was any other Friday in September. But we know better. We've seen the splash of red, purple and green on the satellite loop playing over and over again. You would have to be a complete recluse to be unaware of this big boy.

There is a surreal quality to waiting on a hurricane. Unlike an earthquake or a tornado, we can prepare. And boy! Are we prepared! We've got gas in the cars. We've moved all potential projectiles into the garage. We have magazines. We have 70 gallons of water. We have flashlights. More importantly, we have banana cake, we have cookies, we have chips, we have chicken salad, we have enchiladas, and we have enough peanut butter and jelly to survive for months. My friend, Maricela is here staying with us because her husband is working in Oklahoma. (I'm so glad. If I'm going to get caught up like Toto in the air, my Mari is going to be with me. ) Mari and I cooked almost everything in my freezer. I'm going to gain 10 pounds from waiting out the dang hurricane. There should be a word for this phenomenon: Hurrigain. I'm experiencing hurrigain. Definition: the nervous eating that occurs right before the hurricane hits and the continuous eating that occurs afterward ...when the electricity is out and there's nothing else to do.

We'll be in the closet tonight when Hurricane Ike passes over. With a bag of chips.

Praying for your safety and for ours...
SCL

My talented nephews

2008-09-08T05:37:00.000-07:00

This week I'm celebrating my family and the artistic genes that lurk about my DNA but have never chosen to reveal themselves in my life. Dang it.

These are my talented nephews - (my sister's boys). Aren't they handsome? They recently recorded their first CD with my friend, Tan (please visit his blog for the details about the recording). They recorded 5 original songs. They are SO good. I just can't believe how good they sound. They spent 2 nights with us this summer while they were recording and it was so much fun to have them here. Not only are they talented, they are hilarious. Really.

They're all grown up now, but ...I knew them when they wore Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle underwear. Yes...they did.

Kate's Creations

2008-09-06T21:22:00.000-07:00

My 15 year old niece, Kate, is pretty much an artistic genius (like her dad). I don't know exactly where in the family the artistic genes hide, but they didn't visit me. These are Kate's creations. Shoes. Each pair is uniquely hand-drawn by Kate. My daughter has her own pair. Aren't they incredible? Her younger sister (age 10) sings with the Houston Grand Opera. Pretty impressive - huh?

Tennis Anyone?? or...John McCain

2008-09-05T11:26:00.001-07:00

While you were probably watching John McCain's speech at the Republican Convention last night, I was watching Andy Roddick lose to Novak Djokovic in the 4th set after two double-faults at the US Open. We could debate the finer points of whether Roddick should have returned 2 of Novak's serves after he was up a break. Or, we could discuss whether Novak deserved to be booed by the crowd at Flushing Meadows or whether Roddick deserved to be smacked for implying that Novak's injuries were a big fake. But..you'd probably rather talk about whether John McCain made his point to the country that the Republicans know that they (we?) must change how the world and the country sees us. Let's talk tennis, instead. OK?

I can't stand election years. I hate politics. I love our democratic process and our country. I bleed red, white and blue and I understand how many men and women have died so that I can vote, etc., etc. Having said all that, however, I absolutely cannot stand politics. The "spin", the promises that are never intended to be fulfilled, the exaggerations, the downright lies and half-truths that are told by both parties make me sick. Where is the truth? Not in Denver or Minneapolis-Saint Paul, that's for sure.

How 'bout that Roger Federer?

What's Bothering Me about Sarah Palin

2008-09-02T05:50:00.000-07:00

I like Sarah Palin. She's the kind of gal that I want to go moose hunting with. There's just one thing that's bothering me.

She's 44? No. That doesn't bother me.
She has little experience? Nope. Actually - she has more executive experience than Obama.
She has big hair? Ok - this bothers me a little - but we can work with it.

The truth is - it's not any of her politics that has me concerned. It's much more important than that. Here's what's eating away at my gut...

Sarah Palin is the mother of 5 children - the youngest of whom was just born in April and has Down Syndrome. I have no experience with a special needs child, but I think that this child with Down Syndrome is going to need his mother even more than a normal 5 month old. With all due respect to working mothers (I was one for several years) the Vice Presidency carries with it an incredible amount of stress and demands that most of our jobs do not. I am certainly NOT taking the position that mothers of young children shouldn't work. But...this is like no other job in the world, in my opinion. She will be one heartbeat away from being the President of the United States.

While rejoicing in the choice of a woman - I am bothered with this question: should the mother of an infant, much less an infant with Down's be seeking even more responsibility than she already has? This, coupled with the fact that her 17 year old teenage daughter is pregnant. I can't help but ask ...(and God forgive me if I'm being self-righteous..my daughter is only 13 and I don't know what lies ahead)... if she had been around more to observe the relationship that her daughter was having with her boyfriend, could she have influenced her daughter to wait to have sex?? I don't know and we'll never know.

There. I've said it. I probably set women's rights back 50 years, but I've said it.

Frankly - I can't believe what a Super Churchlady I've become, but I feel so sorry for that little 5 month old baby. I know the toll a normal job takes on a mother and I can't believe that this woman can pull this off. .... I think we've all been fed a big fat lie and that is that women, like men, can have it all.

Wrong. Big Lie. We (women) can have a career - we can even have a "good" career - but it won't (and it can't) mirror those of our male peers who have wives at home taking care of the house, the kids, and all the thousands of details that make cozy homes. Something is going to suffer and if Sarah Palin is Pro-Life - perhaps she should give some thought to what kind of life she is offering to her children.

Or...maybe I'm just jealous that she's 44 and being considered for the V.P and I'm here in my pajamas writing my blog that no one reads.

May I present to you....Spiffy Griffy

2008-08-27T10:55:00.000-07:00

a worthy addition to the blogroll.... Griff's Thoughts.

Griff is our new Minister to Young Adults at church. I knew I liked him when we first met and I was wearing my turqoise "Lady of Guadalupe" bracelet. He asked me about it and I thought to my self..."uh-oh! He's going to chastise me for wearing the Virgin Mary on my bracelet." Nope. He thought it was cool. So...I thought he was cool.

Seen here with my 13 year old (not a "young adult" although she acts like she is most of the time) - this was taken on the beach at the College Retreat. Griff had been here all of 3 weeks when he organized and successfully orchestrated the First Annual College Retreat. I was amazed.

Griff and his cutest ever wife, Abby - are so young. And cute. They are like the "Ken and Barbie" of the church. (Frankly...I kind of want to throw up they are so young and cute.) And energetic. Did I mention that they are young? In fact - they are so young and cute that Baby Girl has nicknamed him "Spiffy Griffy." (She makes me laugh.)

Youth notwithstanding, I have already become close friends with Griff & Abby. I know you'll want to visit his blog and add it to your regulars. Unlike my random and sometimes stream-of-consciousness rants, his is extremely well written. You'll like it.

Most of the time, I agree with him on matters of theology. (I do have that quasi-Calvinist thing working that we don't like to talk about at my Baptist church.) Fortunately - he is loving and patient with those that don't see everything exactly the same. I think this is why I like him. Oh yeah.. and the fact that he doesn't care that I wear my Virgin Mary bracelet.

So Long Summer 2008!

2008-08-22T16:06:00.000-07:00

So long summer with your

High gas prices.

Summer Camp.

Lazy days.

Drivers' Ed.

Sunburns.

Veggie Dogs.

Afternoon showers.

Wet towels.

Sleepovers.

Way Too Much Facebook.

and...

Galveston with the Family.

So long.

Patience = Wisdom

2008-08-19T09:03:00.000-07:00

"On every level of life...hurry and impatience are the sure marks of an amateur."

Evelyn Underhill

One of the most difficult spiritual disciplines for me is waiting on God. You may have noticed this already if you regularly read this blog. My timing is almost always faster than God's. I just want out of the heat...and fast. God wants me to be still and settle down.

Today in my prayer time, I really felt that God was speaking to me the words of Psalm 46:10. "Be Still!"

What does that mean practically? It means that I trust that when my prayer isn't answered immediately, I don't freak out and think that God hasn't heard me. It means that when I speak impulsively (often hurtful, damaging words) that I am violating His perfectly timed plans. It means that I hear the Holy Spirit's voice louder than my own ego.

Relax. Wait. Be Still.

The Shack - Love it or Hate it?

2008-08-18T06:08:00.000-07:00

A friend of Hubby's sent him, The Shack, by William P. Young. Have you heard about it? It's a fictional account of one man's literal encounter with God (and the Holy Spirit and Jesus) in a Shack - where his daughter was brutally murdered.

This week as we were traveling across Texas (from Lake Travis to Galveston) he was reading - and I was watching. Then, he would look at me and say..."This is bizarre!" "This is strange!" I couldn't resist - so when he would put it down, I would snatch it up and read, read and read.

There have been more than a few reviews of The Shack - in fact, please visit the review by Blog Pal - Ken Brown, at C. Orthodoxy.

I'm fairly sensitive - even in fiction - to literature that borders on heresy. In fact - I never read the Da Vinci Code or saw the movie. I just wasn't comfortable with the propositions - even in fiction. A lot of similar claims have been made about The Shack. Personally, I don't have any of these problems with the book.

In my humble opinion ..The Shack is...

One man's metaphorical look at God - and love - and tragedy - and the Trinity - and problems with the church.
Good fiction
A way of getting around pre-conceived notions and religious stereotypes

More importantly, in my humble opinion, The Shack is not....

a complete look at God
perfect theology
promoting universalism, Eastern philopsophy, feminism, or ultimate reconciliation
suggesting that a relationship of God can be had without knowledge of scripture

So - I suggest that you read it for yourself and not take my word - or anyone else's word about it. If you find it helpful to you - keep reading. If you are uncomfortable in any manner with the way God is presented, put it down and don't feel guilty about it.

1 Thessalonians 5:21
Test everything; hold onto the good.

Hey France - Smash THIS!

2008-08-11T07:38:00.000-07:00

Ah - Alain...perhapz-ah, yu shud - ah - go back to ze pool for zom addicional practeez!

I'm Old...and Tired.

2008-08-10T19:05:00.000-07:00

Dude! I'm tired. I spent the weekend with college kids from our church. We went to the beach for the first annual College Beach Retreat. It was so much fun to be with so much...youth. Led by our new Minister to Young Adults (who is still in his 20's himself) we all had a great time getting to know each other and getting to know God a little better.

On Saturday, it was mostly R&R until evening.

I got up early and went for a long run on the beach. I love to run on the beach because there's so much free entertainment. Where else can you see nearly naked old men, smoking cigars with long pieces of hair that they comb over their bald head (only the long piece isn't cooperating in the wind so it just hangs down on one side.)

I shouldn't poke fun. At least they are comfortable in their skin. I debated about going out on the beach. You know, it takes a lot of chutzpah (Gentiles...look it up) to get into a 2 piece bathing suit and lie out on the beach with the 19 year olds. I gave thought to a one piece but decided that it would make me look even older. In the end, I embraced my 42 year old self and pranced myself out there with the pretty college girls. (OK - I was covered up the whole time with a sarong ...but underneath it was a 2 piece.)

My status as Dorm Mother became evident on the first night when the fire alarm at the beach house started blaring at 3:00 a.m. and everyone seemed to be looking to me for clues as to what we should do. "How the h*!! should I know" is really what I was thinking, but I quickly slipped into the role of Alice on the Brady Bunch and began giving orders. The next day, one of the 19 year old twins cut his foot. The girls ran over to me to let me know. "OK", I thought..."what do they want me to do about it." Then it occurred to me that I am 18 to 22 years older than these people. Obviously, I know EVERYTHING! Right???

One of the best parts of the Retreat was having my 13 year old there with me. Watching her interact with the college kids and vacillating - between being incredibly socially mature and being SO Middle School 13 year old - was amusing. At one very emotionally charged point in the Retreat she made a really valid and, I thought, really vulnerable comment about how pain that isn't dealt with can make people not want to take care of themselves. Later, I asked her privately about how she could be so insightful. This is where it gets interesting. The conversation went like this...

Me: Baby Girl - that was really insightful. Is this why you sometimes don't want to brush your hair and wear cute clothes?

BG - ME??? NO! I got that from The Office.

Me: What are you talking about? The Office - you mean the TV Show?

BG: Yeah...Remember when Pam and Roy broke up? Roy stopped taking care of himself and got a DWI.

Me: (Stunned beyond words...) Oh.

Guinea Pigs - BEWARE!

2008-08-07T14:39:00.000-07:00

I consider myself open to different cultures. I understand that Cambodians eat fried spiders. I'm OK with it. During the Kymer Rouge regime, they were starving so they learned to eat some different stuff. I - myself - have eaten escargot, alligator, squirrel, and raccoon.

But...this just blows my mind. In Peru - to celebrate the use of Guinea Pigs on the Andean dinner table - they dress up their little Guinea Pigs in the cutest costumes, then they parade them down the street, they cuddle them, and then THEY EAT THEM!!!
They cook them every which way.
With every kind of sauce.

I'm horrified. Not because they eat them (hey - people get hungry) but they don't have to dress them up and make them think they're going to the Prom and then.....

It's like a horror movie. I think I might go VEGAN!!! Watch this.

Going Home

2008-08-05T14:07:00.000-07:00

I returned to East Texas this weekend to visit with my parents. Sleeping in the same room I had in college and awakening to my mom's sweet voice and the smell of bacon and coffee - I enjoyed no responsibilities. No dogs. No cooking. No cleaning (not that I do much of that anyway...) And, the kids were occupied with Mimi and Paw Paw. The feeling of being "home" is like none other.

My mom had just returned from Arkansas with some of my grandmother's things. In her things, I found photos that I've never seen before. Photos of my cousins and me and some of my family that must have been taken by my grandmother. That might have been a blessing in hindsight.... I went thru an awkward stage and I really did look like Danny Bonaduce in the Partridge Family. Really. It wasn't pretty.

While visiting my parents, we went to the Texas Shakespeare Festival, where my uncle is the Artistic Director. Nestled deep in the oil-rich, pine tree-laden, tiny town of Kilgore, Texas is the most sophisticated and professional Shakespeare Festival. For over 20 years now, the Van Cliburn Theater has been home to this jewel. You really must see one of the productions to believe me when I say that it rivals much of what I've seen in NYC and London. It's incredible, really. And...did I mention that my uncle is the Artistic Director?? Yes. He is. My mother describes him as having more talent in his little finger than the entire rest of the family. When I was a child, he directed Children's Theater each summer in the Van Cliburn Theater and while Mom worked, I traveled with my uncle and my cousin to Kilgore and we lived in the theater those summers. Every square inch. Making sets, picking music, and costumes. Oh! The costumes are my favorite part. The costume room was my favorite place. Well...the dressing room isn't bad, either. Actually, I was in a few of those productions. My uncle and I shared a laugh about those days.

When I think about my childhood, my uncle was a magical character. At Easter, he made cakes shaped like rabbits and held treasure hunts that ended in finding a Madame Alexander doll. His gifts were always wrapped so elaborately that I never wanted to open them. It must have made an impression on me because I spend an inordinate amount of time wrapping my Christmas gifts.

It's funny how going home can make you think of things you haven't thought of in years -- things that are dear to you. People you love.

No Candy

2008-08-04T12:26:00.000-07:00

I'm tagged. I'm it. Run, run... I think this is something like being "boo-ed" only you don't get no candy - just new readers.

(New readers - Beware...my posts are inconsistent -- sometimes stream- of-consciousness and usually...without social merit.)

My hilarious friend Katy tagged me - so I'll play the game (only I'm not sure I know 6 other bloggers!) I'll try. Here are the rules:

1) Link to the person who tagged you.

2) Post the rules on your blog (copy and paste 1-6).

3) Write 6 random things about yourself (see below).

4) Tag 6 people at the end of your post and link to them.

5) Let each person know they have been tagged and leave a comment on their blog.

6) Let the tagger know when your entry is up.

6 Random Things About Myself (not that you care...)

1. I go to Luby's to get Liver & Onions on a Lou Ann Platter because I think that Luby's is quite possibly the only place left in America that still serves it.

2. Had I not been a lawyer, I think I would have made a fine dermatologist. (Let's just say that I enjoy excising the blemishes of my immediate family members.)

3. Sometimes I write poetry and then I throw it away without anyone having seen it.

4. I hate chain letters, chain e-mails, chain anything. Now that I think about it...Why am I doing this tag thingy??

5. I've tried every kind of diet. You name it and I've tried it. My personal favorite and what works for me is Weight Watchers. I've had 8 points today. How many have you had?

Here are my 6 tags :

Popcorn's Page

Winning Through Losing

Keep Going

C. Orthodoxy

Godthots

My Nut Village

Though Troubles Assail Us

2008-08-04T12:12:00.000-07:00

Are you worried about the future? Meditate on the words of this beautiful old hymn and rest in the knowledge that not one Sparrow falls to the ground without your Heavenly Father's assent.

Though Troubles Assail Us
John Newton (1725-1807)

Though troubles assail us, and dangers affright,
Though friends should all fail us, and foes all unite,
Yet one thing secures us, whatever betide,
The promise assures us, "The Lord will provide."

The birds, without garner or storehouse, are fed;
From them let us learn to trust God for our bread:
His saints what is fitting shall ne'er be denied
So long as 'tis written, "The Lord will provide."

When Satan assails us to stop up our path,
And courage all fails us, we triumph by faith.
He cannot take from us, though oft he has tried,
This heart-cheering promise, "The Lord will provide."

No strength of our own, and no goodness we claim;
Yet, since we have known of the Saviour's great name,
In this our strong tower for safety we hide:
The Lord is our power, "The Lord will provide."

1978

2008-08-03T20:29:00.000-07:00

Easter 1978.
Saturday Night Fever
My cat, George
Diane Von Furstenberg Wrap Dress
Leisure suit
Married Sister
Home from College Brother
You CAN go home again.

In Praise of Hymns

2008-07-28T14:21:00.000-07:00

It's Monday - that means that all the songs that we sang at church yesterday are still floating around in my head.

I grew up singing hymns. Hymns with rock solid theology and doctrine.
We always sang the 1, 2 and 4th verses (why did that quirky 3rd verse always get left out???) Many times when I can't remember scripture, I can remember the words to a hymn. I've always had this crazy thought that if ever my Bible were taken away - I would always have my hymns!!

A few times in my life when I have asked God for guidance, I have awakened with the words to an obscure hymn. Sure enough -- when I went to the hymnal and looked at all 4 verses - there was some message there for me.

What shall I say about the recent trend away from hymns. I'm not sure. On the one hand - I understand why my kids don't want to sing words like "royal diadem", "ineffably sublime" and..."which wert and art, and evermore shall be!" On the other hand....I regret that my children possibly won't have this repertoire of hymns to draw from.

For the last 6 years - I've attended an inter-denominational Bible Study with its own Leaders' Hymnal. At first - I turned my nose up at many of these hymns that I didn't grow up singing, but I have at long last learned to LOVE them. So.....I've decided that every Monday, I'm going to share a favorite hymn with you and possibly the background on that hymn. It's going to be fun....just wait. Hey!! They don't call me Super Churchlady for Nothing!

The first favorite - yet not frequently sung in my church - hymn for today is (drumroll...........)

May the Mind of Christ My Savior

by Kate B. Wilkinson (1859-1928)

May the mind of Christ, my Savior,
Live in me from day to day,
By His love and power controlling
All I do and say.

May the Word of God dwell richly
In my heart from hour to hour,
So that all may see I triumph
Only through His power.

May the peace of God my Father
Rule my life in everything,
That I may be calm to comfort
Sick and sorrowing.

May the love of Jesus fill me
As the waters fill the sea;
Him exalting, self abasing,
This is victory.

May I run the race before me,
Strong and brave to face the foe,
Looking only unto Jesus
As I onward go.

May His beauty rest upon me,
As I seek the lost to win,
And may they forget the channel,
Seeing only Him.

Mis Padres Mexicanos

2008-07-21T12:41:00.000-07:00

Maricela's parents are here from Mexico this week. I always enjoy seeing them. After 12 years of their periodic visits, I can finally understand most of what they say. (in Spanish.) A little older and little more stooped, they still look relatively healthy and most importantly, happy. Mari's grandfather recently passed away at the age of 98. I doubt seriously if he ever saw a doctor or a dentist in his life.

El Señor y La Señora. I have to remind myself (and my semi-Spanish speaking 15 year old) to use the more formal Spanish word for "you" and "you guys" with the parents. It would be bad form not to do so.

I have a great deal of respect for these people. They live in a small ranching village in Northern Mexico. They own a two-story home where they raised 10 children. Next door to their home is a small store where they sell school supplies and small gifts and candy. Times are good for the Hernandez family now but Mari tells me of hard times when her mom would rake through the beans, pick out the bad ones and put them in a jar. These beans were kept for emergency situations when there was no money and no food to feed the 10 kids.

Now, Victor - the youngest went to college and is a CPA. His office is around the corner from the family home/store.

Through the almost 13 years of knowing Maricela, I've learned a lot of Mexican folklore. I am truly fascinated by these wives tales that are handed down from generation to generation.

Here are some of my favorites...

Never, never look at a dog while it goes poop. If you do...you'll get a sty on your eye.

Never have barefeet when you have a fever. You'll certainly die.

If you have the hiccups, put a piece of red thread on your forehead.

And the latest...told to me today by none other than El Señor....after I complained of stiff knees...

if you carry a small piece of rope in your back pocket (it's like a horse rein - called "mecate") you won't have any arthritis. He demonstrated by doing some deep knee bends at my kitchen island. He was downright spry, he was. So...I guess I'll go to Lowes this afternoon.

Old Mamma Mia

2008-07-19T07:16:00.000-07:00

Baby Girl and I were invited to a private showing of Mamma Mia yesterday. The whole theater packed with moms and daughters (no guys allowed). It was fun. Of course - I sat with the moms and the 13 year olds sat together in the back. When the older characters (that is...people my age) kissed - you could hear a collective "Ugh.....Yuck!" from the youth. Nice.

I never saw this on Broadway. I heard it was fabulous.

The movie fails to deliver if you ask me. I did not relish Meryl Streep in this role. Let me preface this by saying that I adore Meryl Streep. I love that she hasn't had her teeth capped. Her face has some imperfections and I find them beautiful. But...I didn't like her in this role. She seemed ill-at-ease on the screen -- kind of like she was uncomfortable with the "bigger than life" character of the role of Donna. Honestly - I think she was too old for the part of Donna. The character "Donna" got pregnant in the late '70s and is now the mother of a 20 year old getting married - who doesn't know who her father is, so she invites the 3 men who might be her father to her wedding. Ok. that character should be at the oldest - like maybe 45? Watching Meryl (who is 59) try to act 40-ish made me feel old. Because I'm 40-ish.

I think this is really why I didn't love the movie. It made me feel old.

Her singing was not the problem. Pierce Brosnan's singing made me laugh out loud it was so bad, but he's not hard on the eyes, so I guess it's OK.

Bottom line - wait for it to come out on pay-per-view. Unless you're 13 - in which case - "it's the best movie EVER!"

Satire Backfire (ha, ha..that rhymes...)

2008-07-15T11:29:00.000-07:00

What were they thinking?

Frankly, I don't know. Did they give the American public too much credit for recognizing satire?

I have a theory that even the Liberals at the New Yorker have a deep subconscious fear of who Obama really is. I think a lot of the attempts to portray him as a closet Muslim and his wife as Anti-American are shameful. But having said that, I will vote for McCain, albeit begrudgingly.

Phenomenon

2008-07-10T13:50:00.000-07:00

Has this ever happened to you before? You see someone in the grocery store or at the mall and you think that it's someone you know that you haven't seen in a while - but when you get closer, that person just looks like the person you know. Then, minutes later or perhaps even later that day - you see the person that you thought you saw in the first place. And, you haven't seen that person in months.

It happens to me all the time. It's so weird.

Please tell me this happens to someone else.

"Christian" Trial Lawyers - Not Just Oxymoronic

2008-07-04T18:52:00.000-07:00

While participating in the very American tradition of watching the mens' semi-finals of Wimbledon on the Fourth of July, a television commercial grabbed my attention and I can't quit thinking about it. An older sincere-looking gentleman in a courtroom, quoting Jesus in the passage in Luke - the parable of the feisty widow and the judge (Luke 18:1-8), and taking the position that Jesus said we should never give up on getting what we deserve (or something to this effect).

WHAT! Turns out it was a commercial for law firm. Christian Trial Lawyers. They'll get what you deserve in a Christian way. Now, don't misunderstand me. There are plenty of lawyers (even trial lawyers) who happen also to be Christian (e.g., yours truly), but.... I have a huge problem with trading on and using the name and words of Jesus to advance a law firm. I think the words of Jesus were totally taken out of context and twisted. I'm kinda outraged. I want to sue them for misrepresentation (in Jesus' name, of course.) Is it just me - or are we dangerously close to diluting the word "Christian"?

Read what Karl Barth said about using "Christian" as an adjective: (HT: The Fire and the Rose)

What, then, is meant by such phrases as “Christian” view of the universe, “Christian” morality, “Christian” art? Where are “Christian” personalities, “Christian” families, “Christian” groups, “Christian” newspapers, “Christian” societies, endeavors, and institutions? Who gives us permission to use this adjective so profusely? Especially when we must know that to confer this adjective, in its peculiarly serious import, is withdrawn altogether from any authority we have. This, if you like, unimportant misuse of language: does it not become evil to anybody who reflects at all? Is it not just a presumption that can allude to a most general thing as though existing . . . Ought not a serious consideration of the office of the Holy Spirit to the pardoned sinner to have this small result, at least, namely: to make it more difficult in the future for such an adjective as this to drip from our lips and our pen?

—Karl Barth, The Holy Spirit and the Christian Life: The Theological Basis of Ethics, trans. R. Birch Hoyle (Louisville: Westminster/John Knox, 1993), 37-38.

Your Most Memorable Fourth of July

2008-07-03T13:48:00.000-07:00

Happy Fourth of July !(also known as the official half-time of Summer)

Way back in the good ole days - before city ordinances and products liability attorneys and before parents hovered over their children like helicopters - kids were given dangerous fireworks to set off in celebration of our nation's birth.

I'm talkin' kids of all ages. Little bitty kids got sparklers, some matches and a few punks - sort of a firework starter kit. Bigger kids got smoke bombs and sparklers and really big kids got Roman Candles and bottle rockets and black cat firecrackers.

Once you had your stash of fireworks commensurate with your age, all the moms gave a cursory admonition about not blowing off your fingers and then you were let alone with the other pyromaniacs in the driveway or the back yard - away from most combustibles.

One such July 4th - we were in the driveway/backyard lighting Texas Whistlers. A Texas Whistler (known in other parts by other names) will fly through the air and make a whistling sound. Well...someone in my family (who shall remain nameless) lit a Texas Whistler and it whistled right up the driveway and underneath my aunt's dress. NOT kidding. She was about to stop, drop and roll. I can't really remember how we got it out or if she was burned. But I do remember that the Texas Whistler didn't make a sound any louder than the one she made when it happened.

Got a story to tell about the Fourth of July? Let's hear it.

Congratulations Tan and Karen!!!

2008-07-03T07:05:00.001-07:00

Koraline Maria Truong
June 30, 2008
6:45 p.m. 7 lb. 15 oz

Congrats to Tan and Karen - She's Beautiful!!

Will she grow Giant Pumpkins?
Will she be a Vegan? Will she play piano or clarinet?
Or Both? Que será, será

The Big Switcheroo

2008-07-02T05:13:00.001-07:00

There comes a time when a woman just doesn't want to do it anymore.
It's too physically demanding.
The heart and lungs can't keep up. The reactions are slower. The legs don't respond to what is being seen.
And.....The skirts are too short.

I'm talking about TENNIS, of course.

Somewhere in the mid to late 50's, a woman decides that it's time to hang up her tennis racquet and pick up the golf clubs. It's a slow process that begins, if she's smart, in her 40's. She's at the top of her tennis game, but she knows the slow decline is sure to begin.

Yes - I've seen it happen over and over again. Personally - I've decided that I'm not going to live in denial. I'm not going to put off the inevitable. I'm going to embrace the future of argyle sweaters and matching visors. So yesterday I declined an invitation to play tennis to join the Ladies Four Holers group at the Club. A lesson, 4 holes and lunch for free! Who knew??

Much to my husband's horror (read: OMG - do you think she's going to want to play golf with ME now?) , and after he reminded me that his first divorce decree specifically stated that he would never have to play couples golf again, my hubby retrieved my golf clubs from the back of the garage. It's been a few years, so he had to clean off the spider webs and remind me that my son lost my sand wedge when he used to be my same height and played with the Lady Callaways. You see, even tho' I'm not a golfer, my husband plays golf almost every day. I know a fair amount about golf - even the rules, since I sat through the Rules Class with my son a few summers ago when he qualified for the Houston Golf Association Juniors. I know golf etiquette. When to be quiet, when not to walk in someone's line, where to drive your golf cart and more importantly, where NOT to drive the cart. I can read a score card and tell you how far the ladies' tees are from the center of the green. I KNOW golf. I just can't play it.

Well...that's relative, I suppose. The three other 40-something tennis players I was paired with yesterday made me look like Tiger Woods. Why is that little ball so hard to hit??? It's not even moving. And - even tho' they had pink clubs (I'm NOT kidding - they had pink shafts), pink balls (seriously - they had PINK balls!), pink visors, and monogrammed tees.......

it took them 2 hours to play 4 holes!!!

(Oh yeah...now I remember why I hate this game.)

Happy Birthday, 'Tebe!

2008-06-27T05:12:00.000-07:00

Today is my one and only brother's birthday! Happy Birthday, 'Tebe. My brother has a few other nicknames (I know - it's hard to keep up, but hang in there...): Bubba, Spike, Jack...and the list goes on.

[Apparently, on my father's side of the family, if you are a male, you are persona non grata unless you have at least 3 names you're called in addition to your name given at birth. This was very confusing when I was a child. I could never figure out exactly who was being spoken about....Uncle Frog, Rooster, Uncle Booger, Tator Chip, Rum.]

Back to my brother....Today is his birthday, you know.

When I was about 5 or 6, I so loved my big brother that I wanted to marry him. I couldn't understand why everyone thought this was so wrong. I mean...afterall, we had the same last name. It seemed to make perfect sense to me. I used to beg him to "carry me like a married girl" - which meant like a fireman carries someone. Who knows? I guess I had seen someone being carried like this across the threshold in a movie.

My brother is kind and gentle. I'm not sure if this is historically true, or if I just made it up in my mind, but I seem to remember that my brother used to give his lunch to a stray dog everyday on his way to school -- until my mom found out.

My brother was often the only one that seemed to have time for me when I was a child. He would actually play some games with me. My favorite was called "high diving board". He would put me on his shoulders and I would dive off of his shoulders onto the bed in a fit of laughter. My brother can still make me laugh uncontrollably.

When he was in high school, I would secretly wait up until I saw the lights of his car turn into the driveway. Only then, could I rest - knowing he was safely home. ( I have a long history of worrying about things I have no control over...)

Growing up - I suppose that my sister and I were a bit easier to parent than my brother. (We never got into trouble and we always got good grades.) With all due respect to my very smart and talented sister, the truth is...my brother is arguably the smartest and the most talented of the three of us. Unfortunately for him, he was raised in a small town that valued football more than art; brawn more than brain. (Not that he wasn't brawny - he was! In fact, he was so hunky in high school - the girls called him "Hutch" because he looked like the cutie in Starsky & Hutch.) He's making up for all that now through his two girls, whose many talents are nurtured and appreciated.

My brother is truly a renaissance man. He ran before running was cool. He cooks. He blogs. He paints. He likes photography and music. He rides a Harley.

And ....just like when we were kids.... he still makes time for me. About 6 years ago - I trained and ran a marathon. It is still one of the top 5 things in my life that I am the most proud of, given my lack of natural ability. And...guess who was there....running the last 5 miles with me all the way into the finish line? My brother. (No wonder I wanted to marry him.)

I love you,'Tebe.
Happy Birthday!

Random Musings

2008-06-19T06:27:00.000-07:00

In celebration of this....my 100th post --- I give you...(drumroll)

Random Musings.....Five random things that you didn't know about SuperChurchlady (not that you care, but I'm going to tell you anyway):

5. I love Barry Manilow (not the man, but the music.)

4. I now officially have had every possible color of hair (naturally brown, once a red-head, currently blond-ish)

3. It bugs me when people fail to use the subjunctive. If I were an English teacher, I would fail them. Subjunctive mood:used to express wishes, commands, emotion, possibility, judgment, necessity, or statements that are contrary to fact at present.

2. I have a recurring dream (nightmare, really) that I have registered for a class at the beginning of the semester; forgotten that I have registered for that class; today is the final and I'm frantically searching the halls for the classroom, but I don't know where it is, or what's on the final, obviously.

1. I used to play the French Horn - and quite well for a non-professional high school student, if I do say so myself (hence, the real reason for this post)Once I mentioned my former french horn playing to my friend, Tan - who I've blogged about before - and Tan, being the kind of magical make-it-happen person that he is, called up some of his friends in the music business and lo and behold...he managed to borrow a horn for me to use this summer. Not one horn. Two. Just in case one needs to be returned.

So excited was I when I laid eyes on the two big horn cases awaiting me. I took the best one out of the hard case and examined the mouthpiece. Good. Then, after a long 25 year hiatus, I put the horn up to my lips and....

Horror.
Sputter. Sputter. A sound emerged that sounded something like a wounded deer dying in a far away woods. Could this be happening? All my french horn playing talent..... gone??? Stolen away by the tides of time??

Diagnosis: No embouchure.

You may be thinking...No WHAT?
Embouchure.

Embouchure is the use of facial muscles and the shaping of the lips to the mouth of an instrument.
Apparently - facial muscles can be out of shape just like the rest of our muscles. WHO KNEW?

So....(cue the theme from "Rocky")....I practice and I practice and I will come back. I will be a contender. I will play the french horn again and I will be the BEST 42 year old, former high-school playing french horn player, who hasn't played in 25 years, but wants to again, player. Yes I will!!!!

Question: Is this going to break down the collagen in my upper lip - exacerbating the tiny lines that already make my lipstick run into my face and causing me to need a lip enhancement, because if it is...maybe I won't.

Just asking.

Baby Girl at Camp; Mom and Son Have Time to Bond

2008-06-11T06:26:00.001-07:00

I love/hate when Baby Girl is at Camp. On the one hand...she is as close to heaven as she can get in this world when she's at Camp. Unlike my son, the Beast, she is NEVER homesick. She lives for camp. Crossing off days on a calendar in her closet, she can hardly wait to spend two weeks with the same girls she met 5 years ago when she was only 8. While she's gone, I clean out her closet and her drawers and every other nook and cranny where she leaves her tons and tons of stuff. My word! How does one 13 year old girl have so much stuff. Lotions and potions. Journals. Pony-tail holders and headbands. CD's. Cheap necklaces and earrings (not 2 the same). And...more recently...since we are now the same size - I find MY CLOTHES, MY EARRINGS, MY STUFF!! (I was wondering where that blouse went.)

Of course, I hate not kissing her good morning and smelling her freshly washed long hair. I miss her funny quips. I miss her constant music. I miss her stuff everywhere. (did I just say that?)

The benefit of Baby Girl being gone for 2 weeks is that I can spend some time with the Beast.

Speaking of The Beast.... he is going to get his drivers' permit today after 6 hours of Drivers' Ed. YOU'VE BEEN WARNED! Red-headed beast will be on the streets today driving a 2 ton automobile - as long as some 21 year old punk is in the passenger seat. What a crazy world we live in!

I digress...Most of the time I spend with the Beast is in the car. For example - here's my day yesterday. I bet I used $40 worth of gas (which is not hard to do these days.)

7 a.m. - Drive to conditioning class
9 a.m. - pick up from conditioning class
10 a.m. - drive to hair cut
10:40 - return from hair cut
11: 00 - drive to Drivers' Ed.
1:00 - pick up from Drivers' Ed
1:00 - 1:30 - Let Beast drive my car around High School parking lot while I perspired profusely but tried to look calm and collected
2:30 - 9:00 p.m. - Various friends of Beast show up, play video games, watch movie, swim and leave a pile of wet towels for me to remember them by. Sweet.

Oh...the joys of summer.

Big Sigh of Relief....

2008-06-09T12:16:00.000-07:00

Biopsy: Benign. Radiologist content to wait 3 months and do another mammogram.

What I learned from 4 weeks of contemplating my life and the possibility of cancer:

I have a lot of friends. Good friends. Caring and sincere friends. Friends that will pray for me and call and see how things are going. I am blessed with a plethora of Christian friends and family.
My husband is strong. Inside and out.
I am not in control, although, I like to pretend that I am.
Waiting is excruciating. Waiting is not what I want to do. I prefer to take matters into my own hands.
God tells us how to approach life. We are to come to every situation in faith, with an expectation of His goodness and a desire to do His will.
No. 5 is incredibly difficult for me.
Waiting quietly demonstrates trust in God like nothing else. It is a way to honor Him.
No. 7 is incredibly difficult for me.

I'll be a Monkey's Uncle!

2008-06-07T09:21:00.001-07:00

You need to read this.

Ummm... What can I say?

Wow.

Listen to Your Grandmother!

2008-06-04T06:33:00.001-07:00

God speaks to me in a lot of different ways. Sometimes He speaks loud and clear. Like when a friend gives advice that I know is confirmation about which I've already prayed. Other times His messages are subtle. Quiet. Like a "planned coincidence." Such was the case on Sunday.

On Sunday - for whatever reason - I was hanging out by the bookcase in my bedroom. OK. I never just hang out around the bookcase. (To be honest - I was waiting on the bathroom to be vacated - which....ironically.....was empty. The door was shut. For whatever reason.)

Perusing the bookcase in our bedroom, I picked up picture frames and thought how very much our 4 children have changed in 9 years. I straightened the bric-a-brac and made a mental note of how dusty the high shelves were. Then, my eye focused on a small guest book that hubby and I used to keep at the beachhouse. I picked it up and began reading the entries. Some were notes from perfect strangers that had rented our house. Most were funny expressions of thanks from family members. But...the most wonderful surprise was a note from my grandmother. One that I had forgotten about.

Some of you know that my grandmother passed away in March while I was in Mexico on a mission trip. I blogged about her life and how special she was. About 2 years ago, I began collecting her letters and notes and now I have them all in a book.

This entry in the beach house guest book was one that I had not remembered. She wrote...

9/17/02

My dear ones, this trip to your Beach house has been the very best "vacation" I've had in all my 90 years!

I stepped out on the deck early this morning hoping for a beautiful "Sun Rise" - a heavy cloud was between the Eastern Sky and me - I was so disappointed. And just when I was about to come back inside, a tiny hole appeared in the center of the cloud. Through that tiny hole the sun centered itself and there before me was the most beautiful sight I have ever seen!

It was as if God was showing me His wonders as a multi-carat diamond glistening brightly in the center of a big black cloud! Rays coming forth in all direction. I wish you could have seen it. It was a display God Himself put on -- just for me. I love you. MG

Did you hear that? Don't miss God behind the big black clouds. He is preparing to show His wonders if you are patient enough to wait. Now...be a good girl and listen to your grandmother!

It's Always Something - But It's Never Been Me!

2008-05-29T19:51:00.000-07:00

Today - as I lay upon the table after the diagnostic mammogram - waiting for the radiologist to come in and perform the ultrasound on my left breast, my legs were shaking with such force that I thought I would fly literally off the table and onto the floor. I wanted to get up and run out. "I have things to do" I kept thinking and it seemed a surreal experience. "What am I doing here?" "Why is this taking so long?" I feel perfectly healthy. Nothing hurts, but apparently, I have a suspicious cluster of microcalcifications in my left breast and they want to do a biopsy next week.

I just want this semi-bad dream to be over and for everyone at the Texas Medical Center to tell me that they have made a huge mistake and I don't need a biopsy after all and that I am as healthy as I feel. After all...I have children that aren't grown. I want to see them graduate high school, go to college, and marry. I want to see my grandchildren. I want to live!!!

I am reminded of David's psalm when he said...

"Oh,that I had the wings of a dove! I would fly away and be at rest --- I would flee far away and stay in the desert; I would hurry to my place of shelter, far from the tempest and storm." Psalm 55:6-8

David was a man after God's own heart, but he, too, wanted to run away in a crisis.
There are times when we just want God to remove us from a trial. We pray for ways of escape, but God often lets us feel the heat until His timing is right.

I am embarrassed by my lack of courage, but God isn't disappointed in me. He understands my impulse to run away. Even Jesus prayed that God would take the cup of suffering away from Him. But God also insists on our endurance, because it yields a spiritual result that there is simply no other way to accomplish. We cannot learn it in theory. Only in practice and pain can we learn the lesson of truly leaning on God. Experience is the only way to know Him.

I'm told that once the impulse to flee is broken, God delivers. When endurance is complete, God delivers. God does not leave us in our troubles. Indeed, He has lead us there to discover His provision.

Would you pray for me to courageously lean on God and to discover His peace?

I CAN HEAR AGAIN!!!

2008-05-20T12:58:00.000-07:00

Caution: This video is gross! (but strangely satisfying..)

What?

Excuse Me?

I Beg Your Pardon?

These have been my usual responses of late. I've had some on-and-off annoying problems with my ears for the past month or so, but 2 days ago, I woke up and couldn't hear anything out of my left ear. It was TOTALLY clogged. And..TOTALLY annoying. I could hear myself chewing and when I brushed my hair, I could hear it. Like I was in a cave. Yesterday I went running with BFF and she had to stay on my right side; otherwise, I couldn't hear a thing she was saying.

Finally, today I went to the ENT (otolaryngologist) and she looked in...or tried to look in...my ears. She couldn't see my eardrums at all. They were packed in with WAX.

GROSS!

Here's the cool part. She had me lie down on this examining table and she poured a little hydrogen peroxide into my ears. They bubbled. Then..she took a vacuum cleaner attachment (ok..maybe it wasn't a vacuum cleaner attachment, but it felt like it) and it sucked the wax right out of my ears. Too cool. I CAN HEAR AGAIN!

This may shock you, but I wanted to ask her if I could see the yucky plug of disgusting ear wax that came so begrudgingly out of my ear ...but I was too embarrassed. She didn't offer, so I let it go.

You know, I take my good health for granted. Even the little things like hearing. Not that hearing is a little thing...but the everyday things that we do with our healthy bodies. We are walking miracles. Ya' HEAR me?

The GREAT ALPHABET CHALLENGE

2008-05-19T13:11:00.000-07:00

First there was...

"Albanian bicyclists careening down Elm, forgetting good habits in judgement, kept leaning maniacally near Oriental people, quickly racing straight towards unsuspecting victims with xenophobic yowling zeal."

Then a weak attempt to stay in the game...

A big curly dog escaped from good handlers, insisting jumping kittens land mainly north of Paris, quietly reminding several travelers under veil with xylophones, yet zest.

A weaker attempt...

A burly cramp dug every *fart growing high in Jack's klondike lap. More nards over pizza quacked religious songs till underwear vanquished xavier's yodling zookeeper.

*(Super Churchlady never says the "F" word (F-A-R-T, that is..) and you can't have 2 sentences. That disqualifies you!)

and now the gauntlet has been thrown...

"Addictive blogging causes debilitating energy failure, growing heated indignation, juvenile kidding, lest my new open position quiet reproach suspiciously to undo virtually wholesale xenophobic yearning zealotry."

Let's hear 'em, People......

Top 10 Reasons Why My Mom is the BEST!

2008-05-09T15:49:00.001-07:00

Top 10 Reasons (inter alia) Why My Mom is the BEST!

10. She taught me to love music and singing. She sang songs to me every night when I was very small. I sang those very same songs to my children when they were small. She plays piano and wanted me to play, also. She drove me an hour each way for French Horn lessons when I was in High School and patiently waited outside many a try-out room.

9. She made sure I always had the latest trendy clothes in Jr. High and High School (even when she had to work extra hard to make sure we could afford it.)

8. She makes the best cornbread dressing IN THE WORLD. (Sorry, Seth. My Mom's is the best.) And pecan pie and chocolate pie, and …etc., etc.)

7. She smells good and she will rub my back until her hands fall off.

6. My whole life - she told me I was pretty (probably because I look like HER) and I believed her. My mom and I look scarily (is that a word?) alike. So...I know what I will look like at age 70 - and it's pretty darn good!

5. She hardly ever speaks negatively about anyone - UNLESS they're mean to her kids or grandkids and then...LOOK OUT! She'll bust a cap in your a$$, Bubba.

4. My whole life - she told me that I could be anything I wanted to be and I believed her. Mainly, because SHE was so successful, so accomplished and so respected in her career. I thought I could be, too.

3. She loves learning and she can scan photos, e-mail, do spreadsheets and even TEXT on her cell phone. Even today, after years of studying the Bible, she still goes to Bible Study and she always talks about what she's learned that's new to her.

2. She taught me, by her example, how to honor aging parents. I watched her care for my grandmother and I know that I will do the same for her.

AND... Most importantly...with regard to ETERNITY....

1. It was from HER beautiful lips, that I first heard that God loves me, that He sent His Son to die for my sins, and that He wants to live in my heart and be with me forever.

Need I say anything more....

Happy Mother's Day, Mom
I love you.

Dwight Shrute for VEEP!

2008-05-08T21:07:00.000-07:00

Fact: Dwight Shrute would make an excellent Assistant to the President.

BLOGERAPY

2008-05-08T20:16:00.000-07:00

I've found nothing to blog about this week. Really. It's been kind of a quiet, ordinary, pedestrian kind of week. Nothing irritated me or excited me enough to sit down and pound the keyboard. Frankly - I enjoyed visiting all of your blogs. I consider you all my Blog Neighbors. I dropped by for a little visit and you know what? You people are Funny! Odd! and...Intelligent!

I had myself a great time just makin' my rounds and makin' a comment here and there. It was a blog extravaganza. I visited:

the really funny blogs about everyday life (Meredith, Katy, Popcorn, and Staceystace)
the really interesting discussion of Eckhart Tolle's book A New Earth (Fancypants),
a really random and amusing post about Planet X, ADD and OCD (Seth )
and really well-written post about the recent Evangelical Manifesto (Ken)

Oh..and I shouldn't forget my friend Rob's blog. Rob likes to keep us in suspense by going 2 or 3 weeks between posts. ;-)

Interestingly, CNN had an article called: Your Blog Can Be Group Therapy
In it - they report that some 12 million people now have a blog and many use it for therapy. Men mostly blog about politics, technology and money and women tend to blog more about their private lives. Big shocker there, huh? My husband often tells me that he was unaware of my feelings about something until he read my blog. "Really!" I'll say... I guess I tend to use my blog as some kind of public journaling. It's definitely cheaper than group therapy.

So --why DO YOU blog?

Hee Hee Hee Haw Haw..

2008-05-02T18:15:00.000-07:00

Pfft....you were gone!

Pickin' and Grinnin'

Hey Grandpa - what's fur dinner?

and...BR549

If it weren't fur bad luck - I'd have no luck atall. Doom, despair and tragedy on me!

If you know what any of this stuff means you're probably at least 40. I read today that one of the twins on Hee Haw died at the age of 66. Ah, yes. Hee Haw. They don't make shows like that anymore. I distinctly remember my mother rolling my hair in pink sponge rollers on Saturday night so I'd look good for church on Sunday. While she rolled, I sat and watched Lawrence Welk and Hee Haw. We never went out on Saturday night. It was sacrosanct. There was no getting up on Sunday morning and saying "Hey - you know what? I don't really feel like going to church." We were all going and we knew it. Not an option. You had to be throwing up with a fever to miss church.

I want to say thank you to my parents for raising me this way. Although I have strayed from the church during different parts of my life - there is something that just doesn't feel right about staying home on Sunday morning. I don't feel right all week if I miss church. Yes - I believe it's possible to worship at home, but I think there is something powerful about collective worship. It's good. It's Biblical. So get your stuff ready on Saturday night and....GO!

Proverbs 22:6 Train a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not turn from it.

The Smell of Time

2008-04-29T09:31:00.000-07:00

"When nothing else subsists from the past, after the people are dead, after the things are broken and scattered· the smell and taste of things remain poised a long time, like souls· bearing resiliently, on tiny and almost impalpable drops of their essence, the immense edifice of memory" -Marcel Proust "The Remembrance of Things Past"

Smells can transport me faster than almost anything else to a former time. It's like magic. One whiff and I am automatically back at my desk at Coston Elementary (probably some disinfectant), or in the car with my first boyfriend (Polo cologne), or opening a new Barbie on Christmas (that rubbery new toy smell - you know the one!) People always talk about how sight and hearing are the two most important senses and I suppose that they are right, but wow....the ability to smell is important. I know a woman who lost her sense of smell in a car accident. When I first learned of this, I thought.... hmmm..that's not so bad. Imagine never smelling body odor, dog poop, or rotten eggs again. Then I thought again. Imagine never smelling lavender, coffee brewing, or the most sweetest smell of all....your own child. That baby smell (not the dirty diaper smell) but the sweet unmistakable smell of a baby's head. It's like heaven.

The reason for this post is that I recently held a sweet baby at our church crawfish boil. As my own 196 pound 15 year old son walked by with yet another plate of food and looked at me with questioning eyes, I swayed and rocked and cooed and sniffed. I sniffed her beautiful little blond head until I thought I could sniff no more. I was instantly removed to a time when my 196 pound son could still be cuddled in my arms. His red hair not fully grown out. It was only a red glow that I would bend down to kiss. I could sniff his head then without his complaint.

Oh time...why must you move so fast!

Fame. Who can resist its power?

2008-04-28T06:41:00.000-07:00

Don't laugh. I'm depressed. I'm depressed because fame has claimed another one. I thought this one was different. Another beautiful talented young girl has fallen prey to the power of fame. We can blame her parents, her agent, the photograher. But really...once inside the belly of the monster, who can resist it? Could you?

Timely Grace

2008-04-26T18:11:00.000-07:00

This morning was rainy and wonderful. Ah. Saturday. The only day that I don't have to get up at the CRACK. Sitting at the computer with my ginormous cup of coffee, enjoying the pitter patter of rain. Before I was out of my pajamas, I got a call from my BFF. Her voice sounded strange. She asked me to meet her at another woman's home right away. The woman had asked for me. Not because we're close, but because she had been served with divorce papers and she wanted me to translate them. She was, understandably, distraught.

I got dressed and jumped in the car and on the way over my mind was reeling. Vacillating between trying to remember specifics of family law and praying that the Holy Spirit would give me the words to comfort this woman, I drove. Once there, I think I gave her good and godly advice with a sprinkling of lawyerly interpretation.
I left emotionally exhausted. Instead of thanking God for His provision of words of comfort, I began to imagine myself in her place. Alone. Having to find a job. Starting over alone. Again. Memories rushed in and grace was nowhere to be found. I was gripped with fear and dread.

Sometimes, I think we can ignore the awesomeness of God's faithfulness in the present. Instead, we focus on some imagined trial of the future. I find that I do this all the time! Do you?

I am reminded that God reserves His grace for real situations and prepares to pour it out in abundance when we suffer real trials. There are so many women, who like me, give in to the temptation to fear. We need to turn off the imaginations, look backwards over our shoulder and remember how many real trials and tribulations that we've experienced, and how God was there for us, and how He will be there for us again. His grace is timely. When we really need Him.

2 Corinthians 10:5 :We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.

Extra Credit

2008-04-25T07:16:00.000-07:00

Remember what you used to do for extra credit? Recently, my son Jack was offered extra credit in his Honors World Geography class if he would attend a tour of the Hindu Temple in our area. We have a large Hindu population in this area and the temple is the one of its kind in North America. It is quite beautiful. The tours were offered at 10 a.m. and 4 p.m. on Sunday. This was a bit of a sticking point for me. I mean...I'm all for extra-credit, but going to a Hindu Temple on the Lord's Day?? It kind of creeped me out to tell you the truth. Well...the 10 a.m. tour was out of the question, because I would not allow him to miss church for the tour, but I did, finally, agree to the 4 p.m. tour. Apparently, the temple only gives tours on Sunday. So..I decided that I would go with him, lest there be any funny business. (I'm not sure what this means, but I just didn't want him to be made to bow down to any Hindu gods. Stop laughing...)

Anyway..the temple is the first traditional, stone and marble Mandir (temple) in North America. It took about two-and-a-half years to build.
It's stone and marble were brought from India. It has no iron or steel. The ancient Hindu scriptures describe exactly how the temple is to be built and prohibit these material. (I think they believe that the electro-magnetic waves interfere with their prayers. Someone correct me if I'm wrong about this.) About 3,000 craftsmen across India carved the temple out of Turkish limestone and Italian marble. The 11,500-square-foot covered open-air temple and its surrounding 25,620-square-foot deck was then shipped in 33,000 pieces to Texas and assembled like Legos.

The temple is a representation of nature. It is made up of a zillion hand carvings of dancers, musicians, elephants, horses, flowers and geometric designs. It reminded me of Romans 1:20 For since the creation of the world God's invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that men are without excuse.

My tour guide was very knowledgeable and talked about the Hindu faith. Some of what he said sounded so...rational. Like trying to work God into your life every day. How everything we have been given is from God and how we should give back to our community.

It occurred to me that there are basic truths in every religion. The problem is that we can only glean so much about God from nature. The rest of God has been revealed to us through His people, beginning with Abraham, and recorded for us in scripture. As I was talking about this with an unbelieving friend, he said..."but you hang everything you believe on the Bible." Those are YOUR truths. Their scripture is 10,000 years old. Those are THEIR truths. Then I said (in an agitated tone of voice)..."Their truths are wrong!"

Wow. That was profound, huh? I know that must've made an impression. I just couldn't argue passed my own faith that God has revealed Himself to us in the Bible. Faith... a gift. Is that the only response?

One of my new favorite blogs (because he writes so well and expresses himself like I only wish I could) is C. Orthodoxy. Ken wrote a post about why he is a Christian. Included in it is such a great explanation for why the Bible is credible. I kind of want to print it out and keep it in my purse for when the next time I'm left speechless. When hard questions come my way, I'll just say... "Uh...I know we're talking about serious issues of faith, but please excuse me for one moment, while I go put on some lipstick. Then I'll go to the ladies room, read Ken's post, and come back with a great explanation.

Yeah....that's the ticket.

Because you asked....

2008-04-24T11:09:00.001-07:00

At approximately 1:00 p.m. on April 23, 1999
-- a quite lovely day --
on secluded Ribera Beach
outside Carmel-by-the-Sea, California
............................
love overcame sanity.

Happy Anniversary, My Love!

2008-04-23T10:49:00.000-07:00

"and guess what..i love you, i love you, and... i looooooove you"

I'm breaking my blog-fast today for the sole purpose of telling you that today is my 9th wedding anniversary!!! It's been 9 years since I forced him to marry me.

For those family and friends that thought our anniversary was in August - I apologize... Actually, it's a long story, but the Readers' Digest version is that we were in Carmel, California for my college roommate's wedding. We were engaged to be married in August in Sugar Land. Through some strange twist of fate (except...you know I don't really believe in fate) we met a professional photographer, a professional singer and a licensed California minister. No, really! We absolutely didn't plan to be married in California. It just happened.

And yes...we kept the April marriage a secret because we didn't want to spoil our August wedding. 4 months of being married and acting like you're not married is difficult. Especially when you're 52 years old and your wife tells you that you have to sleep in a different bedroom at the family beach vacation. (He must have really loved me!)

We routinely look at each other and say..."how did this happen?" Then, we laugh and admit that this isn't what we thought it would look like. Then we kiss. (I'll skip the rest..)

The bottom line is this... the last 9 years have been the happiest of my life. I love him more today than I did 9 years ago. He isn't perfect. (Of course, neither am I.) We have peaks and valleys. We still fight. But...we're in this together. Forever and ever. AMEN.

Hasta Luego

2008-04-19T05:33:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, after a conversation with my very wise son, Jack, it occurred to me that I need to step away from the computer for a few days.

So - I'm going on a blog vacation.
I'm going to un-plug.
I need to re-focus.

I will miss you, but hopefully I'll come back a better person and a better blogger.
Over and out.........

A Gaggle of Super Churchladies

2008-04-17T16:57:00.000-07:00

This is a rare sighting of a gaggle of Super Churchladies. They are an endangered species in these parts. Suffering near extinction, they are working hard to survive and thrive in their hostile environment.

I have a Jewish stomach

2008-04-16T13:01:00.001-07:00

Last week, we attended a Bat Mitzvah and this week is Pesach or Passover. Unfortunately, our Jewish family is out of town this year, so we're not celebrating.

I'm kind of sad that we will be missing Passover this week. I say "kind of" because it's a lot of work for the organizer. Last year, we had hubby's brother, his wife and some other families over to celebrate Passover. It was fency-shmency hoo-ha! We had 20 people (Jews and Gentiles) over for a real authentic Passover Seder.

I have to tell you that even tho' I'm a devout Christian - my stomach is Jewish. I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE the Passover food. The chopped liver, the Gefilte Fish (ok...I don't really love this, but my son does!) , the Harroset, the Matzo Ball soup, and all the fixin's. Oy Vey! I can nosh with the best of the Hebrews.

And... I love the tradition. I love the songs in Hebrew. Haunting, beautiful and some are just funny and fun to sing. I love seeing Hubby in his yarmulke. So handsome. I love the story of redemption. And I love thinking that Jesus celebrated Passover. In fact - His last meal was a Passover Seder.

Passover is the oldest and most widely celebrated Jewish tradition. It celebrates the liberation of the Jews from slavery in Egypt. When my kids were very small...we went to Passover at hubby's brother's home. In the car on the way to their home, I was explaining why Jews celebrate Passover. About 2/3rd of the way into the explanation, my son began to tell me the whole story. I was so impressed. He was about 6 years old. "Jack - how did you know all that??" I asked. He said. "Mom - we saw the movie!"

I assume you saw the movie - so I won't regale you with the details - but as a Christian I am focused on this one point: The blood of the lamb. Remember that God's salvation to the Jews on that night was contingent on their application of the blood of the lamb to the door of their home. Knowledge of the blood or its power to save wasn't enough. They had to apply the blood to their own personal door. Their neighbor's blood on his door wouldn't suffice.

I am stuck on this little nuance. So often...we think our knowledge of God without further application is enough. What a beautiful picture God gave to the Jews... and to us, as Christians, of how He would redeem us - thru the blood of the most perfect Lamb if we would accept it and apply it personally to our lives.

I smell a rat!

2008-04-15T10:51:00.000-07:00

Today...I smell a rat. Or, something. We're still not really sure of the origin, but lemme tell ya' ...it smells bad. It started this morning. Early. I couldn't even enjoy my steamin' cup of Kroger-brand dark roasted. I sniffed all around. GAG. Hubby (who was sitting on the other side of the bar in the kitchen) couldn't smell it. The more insistent I became, the more agitated he became. "Call the Pest Control!!!" he finally yelled in exasperation as I became more and more convinced that a rat had climbed into the wall and expired. After cooler heads prevailed, I discovered that the smell was coming behind the ice maker in the bar. When Maricela arrived ...she agreed. "Huele FEO!" (Smells bad...in Spanish) Together, we were certain that a rat had crawled in behind the ice maker and was now rotting with rigamortis. Ugh.

So... I called Andy, the Handy Appliance Guy and he pulled the ice machine out away from the bar. After checking it over -- he assured me that it was not the ice machine, must be a dead rat. The good news is, he said, is that a dead rat will quit stinking after about a week.

A WEEK!!!

Miraculously - I do believe the smell is dissipating. So...maybe there was some stagnant water in the ice maker line that, once pulled out, went on down the pipe like it was supposed to. Or...maybe I'm just getting used to the dead rat smell.

Today...

2008-04-14T10:28:00.000-07:00

Wow.
I love today.
Kids left early for school.
Back in bed.
Extra cup of coffee.
57 degrees.
Cloudless Blue Sky.
Low, low humidity.
Tennis from 9 to 11.
Took Chick-Fil-A to Mer for lunch & got kisses.
Warm (not hot) afternoon sun on my face.
mmmmm.......
I love today.

OY VEY! - The Torah Portion !!

2008-04-13T05:29:00.000-07:00

One of the privileges of having Jewish friends when you're in the 7th grade is attending their Bar and Bat Mitzvahs. I know that most of Super Churchlady's readers are goyim (i.e., Yiddish for non-Jews) - so allow me to explain the process as it is here in Sugar Land (being a Shiksa myself - I don't profess to be the expert and I'm sure it's very different in the Northeast part of the country.)

Bar mitzvahs and bat mitzvahs usually take place on Shabbat (the Jewish Sabbath -- Friday night and Saturday morning) in synagogue. After about 3 years of Religious School - the 13 year old stands on the bimah (prayer altar) and recites their Torah Portion and Haftorah (a section of the Torah, the Jewish book of law and a section of the Prophets) in Hebrew. It's wonderful to see them read the Hebrew and when they do it, their parents are so proud. They sing a lot of the prayers in Hebrew and the congregation sings "A- A MEN" It's a beautiful service with a lot of tradition.

Anyway...here's the cool part. If you're a Jewish parent, once your baby is born - assuming you want to have his Bar Mitzvah around his 13th birthday, you can look at a calendar and see what portion of the Torah and the Prophets - from which he will read. (Here's a website and you can put in your birthday and see what your Torah portion would be. Pretty cool - huh?)

So this weekend, we had the privilege of attending one of Meredith's best friend's Bat Mitzvah. She did an outstanding job with her Hebrew. She was beautiful. She was poised. She gave her Bat Mitzvah speech with confidence. (Oh yeah...I forgot! The 13 year old gives a speech about his/her Torah portion) There was just one little thing that will forever differentiate her Bat Mitzvah from all the others I've attended.

Her Torah portion was on.......Leviticus. Uh...How do I say this delicately? Her Torah portion was on.......emissions. um........discharge. I'm totally not kidding. That brave girl gave a speech on that Torah portion in front of 30 or so of her 7th grade friends. And...she did a fine job, I might add. OY VEY!

Learning to Overcome Pettiness

2008-04-11T07:13:00.000-07:00

Don't say anything that would hurt [another person]. Instead, speak only what is good so that you can give help wherever it is needed. That way, what you say will help those who hear you. Ephesians 4:29

What is it in our human psyche that compels us to want to "be right" or quarrel about stupid things. Why do we enjoying setting people straight - as we deem it to be - even in the most petty of disagreements. Is it because we value our opinions more than we value our relationships?

By nature, I have a contentious spirit. To make matters worse, I've been trained at verbal sparring. I used to get paid to do it. Sometimes I feel offended when people disagree with me and then...I am compelled to establish right and wrong (often when there really is no right and wrong.) Blogging and commenting on blogs has stirred up this contentious nature in me. I'm asking God to quell it now.

Does this mean that there's no place for conflict. I think not. We are called to stand up for what is morally and spiritually right - to a point.

2 Timothy 4:2 "Preach the Word; be prepared in season and out of season; correct, rebuke and encourage--with great patience and careful instruction." But...take a look at this scripture. We are to rebuke and encourage with patience. Uh-oh.... Sometimes I have no patience with those whom I believe need correcting.

Jesus, himself, was no stranger to conflict, but we must ask God to help us discern what is worth fighting about, and what is simply unnecessary dissension.

Petty squabbles do not suit a child of God. I hope that I am learning to practice restraint. I hope that I will never run from an important issue. I hope that I will also never pursue a pointless one.

On Location with Tan

2008-04-10T19:47:00.001-07:00

Our friend, Tan - the talented musician, sound engineer, recording studio-owner, and giant pumpkin grower has just produced this cool music video of American Idol top- 20 finalist Kady Malloy with another American Idol contestant, Colton Berry.

(Some of you may recognize the location.)

Time After Time by Kady Malloy feat.Colton Berry

Where in the World is MajorSteve's Blog?

2008-04-09T15:14:00.000-07:00

Like me...I know many of you are sad that MajorSteve took down his very funny, very well-written blog. But...MajorSteve is a creative genius (I can say that because he's my brother) and creative geniuses sometimes do weird creative things. For example - he's set up a new blog. I think this idea is fascinating. Here is what he has in mind for this new blog in his own words....

"Some of the ideas I had for this blog are things like collaborative story telling, where someone writes the first part of a story and then someone else adds to it and still another person might take it in a totally new direction, collaborative digital are, or things like point / counter point on a particular issue, or competitive funny video submittal where readers try to outdo each other with outrageously funny video posts, or just anything chaotic. I want people to use their imaginations. I don't want people to ask me what rules are because there are none, if people want rules then they can make them up and publish them on the blog...get it? Ideally, the blog could either evolve into something interesting, devolve into chaotic sabotage and sniping, or most likely, it will be met with apathy and indifference and nothing will happen at all and then everyone can say "wow, what a stupid idea".

See! I told you he's a creative genius.

Girls Taken From YFZ Ranch. Is this Wrong?

2008-04-07T07:10:00.000-07:00

Have you read or seen this? You know...Super Churchlady is a conservative evangelical Christian. I deplore the abuse of children, the perversion of God's Word, and the evil of Warren Jeffs and his psycho cult masquerading as a church...but...I just have a weird feeling in my chest about this.

The lawyer in me says that this is a dangerous "the end justifies the means" precedent. Should our government go into private property and take over 50 children as young as 6 months old away from their mothers on the basis of an unverified phone call from an unidentified 16 year old..(and no other admissible evidence)?
In Baptist buses, no less...
What do you think?

"Id don madda"....

2008-04-07T06:20:00.000-07:00

Mawnin' Ya'll...

Just returned from the Oakbourne Crawfish Classic tennis tournament in Lafayette, Louisiana. Every April when the crawfish are the biggest, Oakbourne Country Club in Lafayette hosts the Oakbourne Crawfish Classic tennis tournament. This year I was invited to be one of a six person doubles team. Let me just say that this is a wild, beer-drinking, tennis-playin', crawfish eatin' event. (A complete and utter opposition to the Bible Study retreat I attended the weekend before - with 3000 Christians under one roof in Dallas).

There were about 600 tennis players from all over Louisiana, Mississippi, Arkansas and Texas. My team played one match on Friday night, two on Saturday and two on Sunday. We came in 2nd place out of 16 teams and the men (oh...I mean girls) we played yesterday in the Finals were truly the Champions. They beat us 6-0, 6-2.

Never having been to Lafayette or this tournament before, I have some observations.

1. Those Cajuns talk funny. Here's a little vignette of what we heard.

Us: Would you like to spin to see who serves first, or do you want us to?
Dem Cajuns: "Id don madda"
Us: OK. We won the serve. On which side would you all like to start?
Dem Cajuns: "Ova deah"
Us: You mean that side over there?
Dem Cajuns:"Yea, you right"
Us: (After we kicked their Cajun booties) Nice match, ladies.
Dem Cajuns:"Yall be good now" "Catchalayta"

2. Cajuns play better tennis when they are drinking beer. (Oh my word...I've never seen anything like it.) But...they don't play very well the next morning.

3. Crawfish are really messy and a lot of work for very little meat, but the spicy Cayennne used in the crawfish boil can make your lips puff up and look like Angelina Jolie. So....it's worth it.

4. That Zydeco music just makes you wanna dance, baby.

Alistair, Oh Alistair!

2008-04-02T12:31:00.001-07:00

Today I got a text message from my very good friend, Popcorn. I laughed out loud. She wanted me to know about Alistair Begg and when he came on the radio. (BTW - this is how I know she is a good friend. Among other reasons, anyone who shares Alistair with you is a friend, indeed.)

Who - you ask - is Alistair Begg???? Well...in my humble opinion, he is one of the greatest preachers (more like a teacher) of our day. He doesn't mince words so prepare yourself to be convicted. It doesn't hurt as much as it should, however, because Alistair has the most wonderful Scottish accent that it's like...hmmm...... taking your medicine with a spoon full of sugar.

If you want to try him out and see if you agree - go to the Truth for Life website and listen to one of his FREE podcasts. OR...

you can listen to one of his sermons here on Preaching the Word.

I am a fan. Big Time.

Shawshank Redemption

2008-04-01T18:30:00.000-07:00

Decided to let my kids see Shawshank. (Yes..I know it's "R". They've only seen one other "R" - Saving Private Ryan.).

My question to you: Christian undertones ?? (is Andy a Christ figure) or Christians vilified?? (i.e., remember the Warden is a Pharisical dude - is this Hollywood trying to portray Christians as murdering thieves?) Or...neither. Is it just a good movie?

Is He Safe? No - But He is Good.

2008-03-30T19:22:00.000-07:00

From the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, by C.S. Lewis, Mr. Beaver, in response to Lucy's question of whether the great lion Aslan is "quite safe," explodes, "Safe? Safe? Who said anything about safe? Of course he isn't safe. But he's good."

I'd like to know your ideas about what Lewis meant with this quote. Let's discuss.

Ana's Capirotada Recipe

2008-03-27T18:40:00.000-07:00

This is the last installment of the Tales from Guachochi. (maybe)

Two houses over from the parsonage/house/church that we were working on lives Ana, her husband and her daughter - Abigail.

We met Ana when she came over to visit one day. She explained that she would have been over earlier, but her husband is a very jealous man and at first she saw only men, so she stayed away. After we got to know her, she graciously agreed to wash the curtain in the kitchen. We took it down when we painted and it was filthy.

Because I had seen the neighbor directly next door washing the family's clothes on a river rock outside in the yard, I asked Ana if this is the way she washed clothes, too. She seemed almost insulted and quickly told me that she had a washing machine. (I was embarrassed.)

The next day we went to visit at Ana's home to retrieve the washed curtain. As it turns out, Ana is a medical doctor who quit working for a while to stay home with Abi. I was entirely shocked that she spoke really good English. She is quite intelligent and more importantly, she is very kind. Ana's family lives relatively well by area standards. They have 2 or 3 pigs and many chickens. They have 2 vehicles and a nice house. A nice house means that they have indoor plumbing. They have 2 main rooms in their house. A kitchen with a range/oven, a sink, a very small table and 2 chairs and a wood-burning stove in the corner. Very cozy. In the other room is a bed that doubles as a sofa and a computer, where Abi likes to watch TV. They have concrete floors that Ana is constantly sweeping. Ana seemed embarrassed to tell me that her husband conducts cock fights in the lot beside their home. But..as she explained it - he has no other vices, so she decided to let him enjoy this one. (I didn't want to mention that some may consider his jealousy a vice.)

While we were there, Ana was making capirotada - a Mexican bread pudding dish that is traditionally eaten during Lent. As I understand it, there are many versions. This recipe has bananas and is almost identical to the one Ana uses, only Ana used pecans and no bananas.
Ana allowed us to help her shell peanuts and she very patiently explained how to make this delicious dish. It was so cozy in her little kitchen with the wood-burning stove. When one of us dropped a peanut on the floor, she would scoop it up and toss it in the bucket by the door. Bucket. Pig Slop Bucket.

When the Capirotada was ready - Ana showered, changed clothes and brought it over with plates and forks for everyone to enjoy. Too wonderful.

Ana is a Christian. Before I left - I begged Ana to watch out for Willie.

Here's the recipe:

1/2 (1 lb.) loaf French bread
4 tbsp. butter
4 c. water
8 oz. piloncillo or 1 1/2 c. packed brown sugar (you can buy piloncillo at Fiesta - it's in a cone shape)
2 cinnamon sticks
2 whole cloves
1 tbsp. butter
8 oz. Longhorn or mild Cheddar cheese, shredded (2 c.)
1/2 c. roasted unsalted peanuts
1/4 c. slivered blanched almonds
1/2 c. raisins
1 lg. banana, thinly sliced
Ground cinnamon

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Cut a thin slice off heel of bread; reserve for another use. Cut remaining bread in 1/2 inch slices. Butter slices on 1 side with 4 tablespoons butter. Place buttered side up in a single layer on 1 or 2 baking sheets. Bake 15 minutes, until lightly toasted and dry. Remove and cool. Combine water, piloncillo or brown sugar, cinnamon sticks and cloves in a large saucepan. Bring to a boil; reduce heat. Simmer syrup uncovered 20 minutes. Strain out cinnamon sticks and cloves; set syrup aside. Capirotada may be prepared in advance to this point and the bread left out overnight to dry. Grease a deep 2 1/2 quart baking dish with about 1/2 tablespoon butter. Reserve remaining 1/2 tablespoons butter, 1/4 cup cheese and 2 tablespoons peanuts for topping.

In prepared baking dish, layer ingredients in the following order: a third of the toasted bread slices, half of the remaining peanuts, half of the almonds, half of the raisins and half of the banana slices. Cover with half of the remaining cheese. Pour 1 cup syrup evenly over cheese. Layer another third of the bread, remaining peanuts, almonds, raisins and banana slices. Cover with remaining cheese. Again pour 1 cup syrup evenly over cheese. Top with remaining bread. Sprinkle with reserved cheese and peanuts. Pour remaining syrup evenly over pudding. Dot with remaining butter and sprinkle lightly with ground cinnamon. Cover and bake 45 minutes. Let stand covered 30 minutes to 1 hour before serving. Makes 8 to 10 servings.

Uh...The Lord's Prayer Like I've Never Heard It Before

2008-03-27T11:05:00.000-07:00

I especially like the ending..."For thine is the kingdom, and the power...."

La Barranca de Sinforosa

2008-03-27T10:21:00.000-07:00

On Thursday, when the construction work was almost done - our fearless leader suggested that those of us who hadn't seen the Sinforosa Canyon go on a little excursion. (Frankly - I think he was tired of us being in the way and wanted to have a few hours by himself and one other to put the finishing touches on the 2 new rooms and bathroom - and who could blame him???)

So we set out for the Canyon via Cienega Prieta (or "CP" as the Gringos call it.)

In CP - a group from our church along with others from Oklahoma and other parts of Texas and Arkansas have built a clinic, where the local villagers can come and see a doctor or dentist once a week. You know...it occurs to me that you don't really know why we were in Mexico - do you? Ok.. Allow me to digress for a moment.

Our church has for several years partnered with an organization called Gloria al Padre (Glory to the Father) or "GAP" as the Gringos call it. We Gringos like to have simple names, apparently. GAP's main purpose is to link up churches and other volunteers with missions projects in Mexico - including constructing medical facilities, church buildings, health and spiritual education and agricultural support.

Back to the story...

The road from Guachochi thru CP and to the canyon is excruciatingly bumpy - even with good shocks. It's only about 16 miles but it will take you an hour to drive past all the rock fences through forests and rolling hills, and every now and then through farm land. The last thing you would ever expect to see at the end of this dry and bumpy road is a canyon. No. Not just a canyon. An unbelievably beautiful majestic incredible canyon.

This is the crazy part. You're driving down this bumpy dusty and, frankly, not very charming road and at the end of the road a huge pasture awaits you and a locked gate. A sweet old Mexican man with no teeth who won't make eye contact with you is ready to unlock this gate for you (probably for a small fee of about $1 per person) Still, you can't believe that there is a canyon in the immediate vicinity. Another half mile of pasture - and there it is. A sheer drop off of hundreds of feet. Unexpected. Untamed. Wild. You can't believe that you're really seeing it. Your eyes wander over miles and miles of the finest rock formations, in all shapes and colors you can imagine and more than that. Miles and miles of incredible evidence of God.

Hubby and I just stood and stared for a while a little bit speechless. One of the guys with us - George - began quoting Psalm 8. It seemed appropriate.

1 O LORD, our Lord,
how majestic is your name in all the earth!
You have set your glory
above the heavens.

2 From the lips of children and infants
you have ordained praise
because of your enemies,
to silence the foe and the avenger.

3 When I consider your heavens,
the work of your fingers,
the moon and the stars,
which you have set in place,

4 what is man that you are mindful of him,
the son of man that you care for him?

5 You made him a little lower than the heavenly beings ^[c]
and crowned him with glory and honor.

6 You made him ruler over the works of your hands;
you put everything under his feet:

7 all flocks and herds,
and the beasts of the field,

8 the birds of the air,
and the fish of the sea,
all that swim the paths of the seas.

9 O LORD, our Lord,
how majestic is your name in all the earth!

Wow!

Willie

2008-03-26T12:01:00.000-07:00

One day while we were painting in the parsonage - a young boy appeared in the door of the bedroom we were painting. He looked to be about 11 or 12. I tried speaking Spanish to him. He seemed to understand but wouldn't answer me (I would learn later that this is part of the Tarahumara Indian culture.) I asked him if he wanted to help us paint. He took the brush and began the most amazing detailed trim work. (I laughed and thought of Huck Finn hoodwinking Tom Sawyer into painting the fence.) He was also obsessed with NOT getting paint on himself and didn't like it that some of us had obviously not been as careful. (By now - I was wearing the same clothes for the 3rd day in a row and I had yellow paint, blue paint and plaster in places I didn't know I had...)

The boy stuck around and we offered him a sandwich. Jorge - the missionary that had been living in the parsonage told us that his name was "Willie" - a nickname for Guillermo. Willie was about 11 years old and apparently didn't like to go to school. Willie couldn't tell me when his birthday was or what his last name was. At first I thought he was lying. Turns out...probably not.

He had been living with Jorge off and on for about a month. For some reason - Willie didn't want to go back to his own house. We can only speculate about why...but Willie never wanted anyone to meet his parents. We learned later that it might have been violence, or simply...a lack of food. Willie said he had 5 brothers and sisters.

After we finished painting, I noticed that Willie was wearing the very traditional sandals of the Indian children. The only problem was that his heel was hanging off at least 2 to 3 inches of the worn sandals. Remember, it had snowed the day before. I started to think about whether my running shoes back at the hotel might fit him. Then, I remembered that they are sort of pink. Oh well...I was fixated on his feet. They were incredible.

His feet. The feet of this 11 year old boy. They looked like they belonged to an 80 year old man that had walked across the desert. I'm not kidding. He could have walked across hot coals and never felt a thing. They were gnarled and calloused and....heart-breaking.

After making sure with Jorge that it would be appropriate - the women in our group decided quickly that we were going to take him to buy new shoes. We grabbed up the keys to one of the vans and we headed to the nearest Zapateria (shoe store.) Down the dirt road and past the garbage dump and almost to town there was a shoe store and we decided that it would do, so we took Willie inside.

Once inside, I realized that this must appear strange. The well-dressed and almost white (i.e., not Indian) proprietors kept looking at me...then at Willie. Then me...then Willie. Then me...then Willie. It occurred to me at that point that we must look odd. A white woman - covered in paint and plaster, with a baseball cap on - with a street urchin - and my telling him in Tejano Spanish to pick out whatever dad-blasted pair he wanted in the whole flippin' store. Oh well... Soon enough, I think they got the picture that this was a humanitarian mission and even the snooty family got into it. I bent down and handed Willie a pair of socks. Truly - I'm not sure he knew what to do with them. I helped them on his calloused feet and then....I put them on. A pair of rad hiking boots that he picked out. I made sure they were at least one size too big. He loved them. He grew 3 inches when he stood up. Partly because they had a lug sole - but partly because he had on SHOES! He was so proud. And...I paid for them with a lump in my throat and we headed back to the van. Right outside of the store - Willie gave me a squeeze that almost knocked the air out of me. He hugged me so tightly - with the most incredible grin I have ever seen.

We invited him to eat dinner with us at the hotel and sure enough...right around dinner time, he showed up on the street outside the hotel. He came in and stuffed himself. And stretched his arms over his head to make room for a little bit more.

The next 2 days Willie was glued to my hip. And my heart.
I can't think of him without my eyes welling up with tears. I know that we did little, if anything, to change his life. Most of his life won't change. Because of this, there's a real temptation to distant yourself from these kinds of heartaches. Either you think - a) there's nothing I can do, so why get involved...or b) you have an inflated opinion of what you can do for the world and when you can't accomplish it, you get discouraged. I've struggled with both of these extremes and I've finally, thru prayer have come to this conclusion...God gave me Willie just for those 2 days. For those two days, Willie was hugged on, encouraged, and well-fed. He saw the love of Christ for those two days.

Funny....the day that Willie appeared was the day my grandmother passed away. When I took the call and began to get emotional - Willie followed me out into the yard to see if I was OK. Knowing my Momma Gladys was safely in the arms of Jesus and after a good cry, I turned my attention back to Willie. Now that I think about it...I'm not sure who needed whom more.

Since returning I've learned these statistics about Tarahumara Indians:

64% of the population over 15 years of age has no schooling.
26% of the population did not finish elementary school.
43% of the population between the ages of 6 and 14 do not attend school.
57% of the population is illiterate (compared to 6% in the State).

Pray for Willie.